Chapter Text
Li Lianhua knows what hell looks like.
Ten years in Bicha poison's company will, inevitably and irrevocably, nurture the body for a study on suffering and drag the mind on a journey of humility. Every indignity the flesh may inflict has been experimented on Li Xiangyi's flawless body. Every hateful, contemptuous thought anyone ever had about Li Xiangyi, Li Lianhua thought them first. Even the most arrogant of brats will be brought down to his knees when the seething certainty of having failed the entire world walks hand in hand with outbursts of inflammatory arthritis.
For ten years, studies were properly conducted, journeys were crawled through to the end and back, and the conclusions of this life-long investigation are clear to its head researcher.
Hell, in its purest, unadulterated form, is a mirror.
"Sect Leader Li! Hero Li! Li Xiangyi's here! We're saved!"
Deep crimson and brisk white twirls in the middle of the battlefield, and the axis of gravity shifts to follow the swift line of Wenjing and the deep curve of Li Xiangyi's cocky grin. All fighters on either side adjust their stance accordingly, all unfortunate bystanders dragged into the conflict cheer up immediately. The wind appears to pick up in the exact right way to gently sway the end of Li Xiangyi's ponytail and the hem of his robes for peak visual effects. The stars have aligned, and here Li Xiangyi has appeared to save them all.
Li Lianhua, bemusingly, longs for death.
It doesn't last. Li Lianhua has longed for death frequently, and has even been granted its embrace once, so he's not in a hurry to dwell in Yama's palace anytime soon again. The sentiment passes over him like water on a duck's back, and as an expert connoisseur of shame, he sips in this peculiar wine of self-bought embarrassment from the lofty distance afforded by age. The indignity of a front row seat to the spectacle of his youthful transgressions is only the natural, if specifically excruciating, continuation of the journey in self-reflection he's been on as Li Lianhua.
There is nothing that can be done anyway but idly keeps on watching the fight from the balcony of the teahouse like he'd been doing all afternoon prior to Li Xiangyi's unnecessary intervention. If Li Lianhua disappears from Fang Duobing's line of sight, even a breath's time, the boy will turn rabid and go on a rampage for certain. It's not worth dealing with the aftermath, to subject himself to Fang Duobing's incessant fretting for several days until he has become reasonably convinced again that Li Lianhua is not going to kick the bucket if left to his own devices for an incense stick's time. There is also the dim, unlikely possibility that one of those mediocre buffoons might seize an opportunity that arose thanks to Fang Duobing's distraction and succeed to injure him.
"Sect Leader Li!" Fang Xiaobao exclaims, filled to the brim with excitement. If he were a dog, his tail would be wiggling uncontrollably, large dark eyes glistening with stars of adoration.
Perhaps Li Lianhua is overestimating the effect his absence would have on Fang Duobing in this specific instance. The full brunt of his attention, previously divided between the ongoing fight and the ever constant awareness of Li Lianhua's well being, has redirected on Li Xiangyi, and Li Xiangyi only.
The crowd goes Oh! and Ah! when Li Xiangyi swaps aside three of his opponents at once in one move Li Lianhua pretends, for the sake of his sanity, he doesn't remember the name of. Fang Xiaobao's level of excitement overflows to until then uncharted territories of puppy-eyed worship.
"Greeting, friend," Li Xiangyi announces in between a flamboyant middle kick and a needless display of Whirlings Steps. Not say, not explain, announce. "I took the liberty to intervene in your fight. I hope you will forgive the presumption."
The maiden in the adjacent balcony swoons. Li Lianhua reassesses every decision he has ever made in his wretched life to lead him to this point.
Fang Duobing laughs in crystal clear delight, which briefly reminds Li Lianhua that while life is mainly composed of suffering and shame, it does have its highlights too, such as the gentle swell of turnip grown well, the excited bark Hulijing greets him with every time he returns to Lotus Tower, and the barest hint of Fang Duobing's happiness.
"Only if you leave some of it to me, friend!" He retorts, then proceeds onward accordingly.
Before Li Xiangyi showed up uninvited and ruined the party, Fang Duobing had mostly indulged in what professionals in the martial world would describe as fucking around. Those disorganized, confused remnants of the Wansheng Sect who'd been terrorizing this modest town in the way of their manic flee away from the disaster, presented a non-existent threat to Li Lianhua's unofficial student.
Li Xiangyi's arrival changes everything. No more fucking around, no more playing with his prey, Fang Duobing is now fighting to impress, and impress he does. Li Lianhua, an unwilling but certified expert on the moods and woes of one Li Xiangy, spots the exact moment Li Xiangyi's vague curiosity turns into interest. His eyes keep flickering towards Fang Duobing's direction, not to check in on him and prepare to stage a rescue if necessary, but out of genuine fascination.
Li Xiangyi only cares for people who can beat up their adversaries in fancy, interesting fashion. He'd only started liking Qiao Wanmian after witnessing her proficiency in her own sect's martial arts. All his friends had been acquired in the midst of some outlandish jianghu adventures during which they had managed to make an impression on him through some feat of any kind.
The instant the last man standing has been brought to his knees, he pounces towards Fang Duoling with an unhinged glint in the eye, closer to a tiger than a human.
"Well met, friend." Li Xiangyi performs the traditional jianghu greeting. "You have me at the disadvantage of a name."
"Naturally, Sect Leader Li's reputation long precedes him." Fang Duobing returns the gesture with the perfect flare of an upright young master. "This one's name is Xiaobing, of the He family."
Li Xiangyi quickly reviews what he observed in the light of this new information, and seems to find the concordance fitting. "He-xiong, then. Of Tianji Mountain Manor?"
This greeting calls for yet another bow, delivered with awed admiration as if Fang Duobing just received the greatest compliment of his life. He, of all people, has no business fawning over Li Xiangyi. Who better than Fang Duobing to know the frailty of the facade beyond the legend, the gruesome reality of Li Lianhua's many imperfections, of his countless failures, of the weights of his mistakes?
Xiaobao has lived a better, wiser life than Li Xiangyi, is five years his elder and his superior in any area. It is wrong that he should still worship this fraud of a hero.
"Sect Leader Li honors me." Fang Duobing smiles.
Li Xiangyi's contenance falters.
Li Lianhua's abdomen clenches.
"Not at all," Li Xiangyi says. No one else except A-Mian would be able to spot the slightly dazzled inflection in Li Xiangyi's voice, but Li Lianhua's brain is hardwired to notice the oddity. "He-xiong's martial talents are remarkable. Sect Leader He must be proud of her kinsman."
The dread rooted in Li Lianhua's belly spreads upwards.
On a good day, while tethered to his many duties, his allies and his betrothal, Li Xiangyi is still likely to abandon everything to pester a stranger he finds compelling until they give up and just accept to join his sect.
This is not a good day. This is Li Xiangy after weeks spent roaming the jianghu in a feral state, erratically chasing down the leftovers of Shan Gudao's sham sect and associated Nanyin conspirators. This is Li Xiangyi at his most unhinged, at his most desperate, at his loneliest, bristling with the new hurt of the deepest of betrayal.
This Li Xiangyi could do anything. He's utterly unpredictable, even to Li Lianhua who knows him most.
The dread spreads so well it ends up clogged into Li Lianhua's throat. The cough that follows snaps Fang Duobing's attention back to him like a bow's string release. It was barely audible in the crowd, but Xiaobao's ears have been trained to spot the slightest sign of discomfort out of Li Lianhua and immediately make a big deal out of it.
"Please excuse me, Sect Leader Li," Fang Duobing says, no longer looking at Li Xiangyi, before he jumps up.
A wave crashes down atop Li Lianhua's head, and the ocean follows its lead one step behind. The easy-going puppy playing around and trying to impress his hero is nowhere in sight; Fang Duobing lands on the balcony with the single-minded focus of a starving predator on a hunt. It speaks volumes of the abysmal depths their relationship has sank into that Li Lianhua allows Fang Duobing to grab him by the hem of his robes without a protest, that he soaks in the overwhelming force of his Xiaobao's affections like it's a given, the natural order of life, like it's his due.
Li Lianhua swats Fang Duobing's grip away with one hand, his face hidden in the sleeve of his other arm. "Aiyah, He Xiaobing, I'm fine, I'm fine. No need to fret."
Fang Duobing's hand doesn't move an inch, and his face remains unmoved by Li Lianhua's words. Predators do not care for their preys' protests, the ocean has no concern for the woes of the sole soul drifting on its currents; the time Li Lianhua could easily convince Fang Duobing with delicate mistruths, nonsensical stories and outrageous lies has long passed. His wayward disciple dismisses his reassurances as he presses his free palm on Li Lianhua's forehead, takes his pulse, inspects his meridians, checks his clothes for traces of red.
"Did he cough up blood?" Fang Duobing asks the innocent bystanders that had the misguided idea to exist in the vicinity of Li Lianhua. "Did you see him hide it? Pay no mind to his words, he's a crafty old fox."
Underneath the weight of the sea, the sharp gaze of Li Xiangyi's strikes through him. Li Lianhua can practically see the cogs turn at all speed in his head, trying to figure out how that older, strange, weak man being fussed over like an indulgent husband lovingly bullied by his overeager younger wife fits in the storyline of the brilliant, righteous young hero He.
Hell is a mirror.
Mirrors can easily get fooled by a little trickery.
Li Lianhua coughs again behind his sleeve and wobbles on his feet; Fang Duobing responds accordingly. The sea level rises up once again, demanding the complete surrender of the remnants of land untouched by its water. Fang Duobing's right hand circles his forearm, the other rests on Li Lianhua's back, between his shoulder blades, the tips of his finger intertwined with Li Lianhua's hair strands. If he had that dreadful white fur coat at hand, no doubt Li Lianhua would have ended up smothered under the luxury like some prized concubine.
Ah, well, here goes the last remnant of his dignity. Any plausible deniability Li Lianhua would have left of an upright, proper relationship has been blasted away irrevocably by the sheer intimacy of the touch Xiaobao publicly and unabashedly lavishes upon him.
"What is it?" Fang Duobing asks urgently. "Did you get hurt?"
"It's nothing," Li Lianhua says in the meek tone of a martyr stoically enduring the worst pain ever experienced by mankind. "I just need to rest for a moment."
"Of course." Fang Duobing blinks up with such eager innocence Li Lianhua immediately suspects foul play and prepares for the worst. "You should rest on me then."
The hand on Li Lianhua's back travels up to curl in the curve of his nape, and gently but firmly guide his head in the crook of Fang Duobing's neck. The time where Fang Duobing's composure would flounder under the weight of Li Lianhua's shamelessness has long passed, and only has himself to blame for the predicament he finds himself in. Li Lianhua has taught the boy too well, he has gotten exceedingly skilled at escalating LI Lianhua's bullshit with even more outrageous bullshit of his own.
"You're quite determined not to let me save any face," Li Lianhua mutters.
"Your face is so thick, old fox, it doesn't need to be saved," Fang Duobing whispers back, too cheerful over his humiliation for Li Lianhua's taste. "Would you rather have him see you?"
Li Lianhua ticks his tongue. "You might have considered that before you dragged me into the spotlight."
Fang Duobing twists backwards, Li Lianhua's face secured against his collarbone, and says, louder: "Sect Leader Li, please accept my apologies, but may I leave the rest to you? I must attend to my master."
Intelligence is its own curse. If Li Lianhua were stupid, he might have successfully deluded himself into believing none of the hundreds of people present could possibly think this sleazy, suspicious man Fang Duobing had loudly proclaimed his master has any improper design upon his virtue. Li Lianhua must now keep on living with the knowledge that, in one universe, half of the jianghu's population, his younger self included, thinks of him as a perverted master preying upon his white lotus of a student and there is nothing he can do to clear this misconception.
No matter. Ultimately, Fang Duobing was right. Li Lianhua has no use for dignity or pride anymore. He can endure the embarrassment of staring at the face of his youthful foolishness, and have it stare back and find what it sees distasteful. It's better, actually; Li Xiangyi would never suspect that such a scumbag person could have any connection to him, even with the eerily similarity of their face.
"Apologies are unnecessary," Li Lianhua hears Li Xiangyi say from miles, years removed. "He-xiong must do what he must, I'll take it from there."
Fang Duobing somehow manages to perform a perfect bow without loosening an inch of his death grip on Li Lianhua's skull. "Humbly thanking Sect Leader Li for his understanding. I'm in his debt."
Li Xiangyi, bold and reckless and utterly shameless, responds: "What need is there for debt between friends?"
The ghost of the boy Li Lianhua has suffocated to death with his own two hands shines through Fang Xiaobao's smile, powered by the bloom of a thousand spring blossoms. It contains such a wide range of emotions, from graceful gratefulness to smug overconfidence, from playful mischief to the most sincere affection imaginable. Li Lianhua bears the full brunt of its radiance, stuck in mercilessly close proximity, and chokes on his own bitterness.
Li Xiangyi put that smile on Xiaobao's face.
"You're such a child still," Li Lianhua sighs into Fang Duobing's ear. "Pratting on and on about Sect Leader Li this, Sect Leader Li that-"
Retaliation strikes on the spot. The extent of Fang Duobing's impertinence reaches new, uncharted territories when his hand dips from Li Lianhua's back to the back of his knees and he swaps Li Lianhua into his arms in one smooth movement.
Li Lianhua, belatedly, longs for the days his uncontrollable student would at least condescend to carry him on his back. It truly does feel like his body doesn't belong to him alone anymore but has fallen to the colonization of shared custody, considering the proprietary boldness with which Fang Duobing manhandles him to his whims.
"He Xiaobing, you're going too far," Li Lianhua hisses.
Forlorn in expression, mischievous in truth, Fang Duobing bemoans loudly for the sake of the crowd. "My master is so sick, so fragile, so delicate. How could I let him walk and tire himself any further? The thought cannot be borne."
Some of the locals, who watched Li Lianhua walk on his two feet just fine all day, setting up his temporary shop to offer his services as a physician under the watchful and judgemental eye of his self-appointed bodyguard, rightfully emit sounds of skepticism. People who are 'so sick, so fragile, so delicate', do not usually reset people's hipbone while nagging at them for having an affair with the fisherman's wife.
Fang Duobing remains utterly impervious to the reception of his scheme. He leaps up to the sky with his armful of mortified 'master', abandoning to their fate the leftovers of Li Lianhua's self-esteem on the ground, at Li Xiangyi's feet. Cradled in his student's arms, burnt to the crisp by the heat of Li Xiangyi's glare, Li Lianhua stares up at the sky and waits to be stricken down by whichever deity had set him up to this clownery for their entertainment.
By this point, it's the least they can do.
.
.
No deity has the mercy to put an end to his misery by the time they reach Lotus Tower, so Li Lianhua falls back to the next best thing and drags Fang Xiaobao by the ear into their home. Fang Duobing has the nerve to complain to Hulijing about the tyranny he's been subjected to. Behold how he's mistreated! Behold how underappreciated he is! Behold how Li Lianhua never shows any gratitude for the hard work he invests in this enterprise!
In turn, Li Lianhua ticks his tongue, lets out aggravated sighs and waves his hand in dismissal; the performance of mutually beneficial annoyance keeps on going.
"He's going to come back anyway." Li Lianhua cuts in the middle of Fang Xiaobao's rant. "You've stroked his interest."
This outcome became inevitable the moment Li Xiangyi first caught sight of Xiaobao, really. He had an unparalleled eye to spot talents, and Fang Duobing couldn't help but shine through the dust. It was in his nature to always strive to do his best, and his best was nothing short of outstanding. He had been made for accomplishment and feats, for glory and recognition, to skyrock at the top of the jianghu and reach out to help others climb up.
Li Lianhua, admittedly, has no business keeping his light all to himself.
Fang Duobing takes the reproach as the compliment it wasn't intended as, and preens like a proud peacock. "So? It's not my fault I'm so interesting. Thanks to me, when Sect Leader Li does come visit, you'll have the perfect excuse to hide in the bedroom."
As if such a weak ploy would be enough to convince a nosy brat like Li Xiangyi. It wasn't merely out of a sense of duty and the urge to protect the innocent from the whims of the powerful that Li Xiangyi decided to add the function of a detective to his regular young hero roaming the jianghu credentials. He loved to solve a mystery, to entangle the truth from the lies, and, above all else, to humiliate fools through his wits as much as his martial skills.
Li Xiangyi had always been too intelligent for his own good. So intelligent in fact, so clever, so observant, that he couldn't even see what was right in front of him.
"What are you doing anyway?"
Li Lianhua idly fans the boiling pot. "Poison, to corroborate your ridiculous lies."
The sudden silence is what alerts him first. The playfulness with which Fang Duobing had been bragging, nagging and lamenting in a rotation disappears all at once. One instant, he's rubbing the back of Hulijing's ears with his foot on the stool, the other he's snatching Li Lianhua's fan away.
His face has the countenance of a windless sea, irresponsive, inflexible.
The ocean says: "Don't you dare."
Li Lianhua adjusts the position of his sail according to the abrupt meteorologic change. From the brisk pace of a prickly teacher, he slows down to the indolent rhythm of a doting parent, soothing, reassuring, safe. He puts his hand over Fang Duobing's and unravels the vicious grip keeping his fan imprisoned, one finger after the other.
"I'm only joking, Xiaobao. Of course I'm not going to poison myself."
Not a single wave appeases the harsh, polished surface of Fang Duobing's expression. Only the deepest of night reflects through the foggy texture of his eyes. The dull, dark quality of its shine should have nothing to do in the middle of Fang Duobing's handsome gentleman features. It had been completely foreign to the tender blossoms of the precious son of Tianji Mountains Halls before Li Lianhua's death.
Its existence is yet another crime Li Lianhua can add to his list of misdeeds.
"Li Lianhua. Don't lie to me." Fang Duobing says.
"I'm not lying."
The words 'I promise' remain stuck under his tongue. They both have weighed the values of Li Lianhua's vows and found them utterly worthless. Even the promises he made to himself had no standing whatsoever in the long run.
Still, Li Lianhua stays his course with a steady hand and unflinching glare. "This is a remedy for Granny Qin's lung disease. Your head might be filled entirely with battle nonsense and hero worship, but I haven't forgotten I said I would make it for her."
The winds end up turning back to his favor. The mourn mood in Fang Duobing lights up, if only by the margin, and Li Lianhua is granted the mercy to breathe again.
"Ah," he says, while Li Lianhua pretends not to hear the relief in his voice, tender like a fresh bruise. "I'll take it to her when you're done then."
"No need, her grandson will come fetch it. You should go meet up with Li Xiangyi instead."
The brief lull Li Lianhua had succeeded in cultivating out of the eye of the storm collapses at once.
"What for? Isn't the whole point of this charade to avoid Sect Leader Li?"
Li Lianhua flickers his fan in Fang Duobing's direction. "I told you, he's a noisy little brat, he'll seek you out anyway. Better you satisfy his curiosity on our own terms. Plus, that's a golden opportunity for you, Xiaobao. Don't you want to spend some quality time with your hero, hm?"
Unflinching, unabashedly, Fang Xiaobao says: "I'm already spending quality time with my hero."
Li Lianhua attempts to contextualize that bold statement in the favor of Fang Duobing's frequent dismissal of his character; just this morning, he had insulted Li Lianhua's cooking for fifteen whole minutes and called him a shameless quack three times.
The force of his Xiaobao's devotion still punches the breath of his lungs.
"Do me this favor, won't you? I'd rather not have him snooping around the house. I promise I'll still be there when you return. I won't leave the house."
It speaks volume of the depths of the abandonment fears Li Lianhua has so prosperously refined within Fang Duobing that he immediately jumps out towards the loophole in that promise and his eyes flicker towards the horses.
"And the house won't leave either," Li Lianhua amends.
It's a terrible dilemma Li Lianhua is putting Fang Duobing through. On one hand, in the one year they have spent together since Fang Duobing somehow managed to drag him out of the Yama King's claws and catapult them both into the past, he has categorically refused to leave Li Lianhua's side.
On the other, Li Xiangyi is right there.
Conflicted, Fang Duobing says: "I should drug you to be sure you won't pull yet another trickery on me the instant I have my back turned. You'd have it coming anyway, old fox, it's rightful payback for the number of times you left me on the side of the road."
Li Lianhuan snorts, without disagreeing. Karmic retribution would call for Li Lianhua to wake up alone, abandoned under a tree while Lotus Tower trudged ahead, forever inaccessible to him. Fang Duobing is, arguably, kinder than karma. He wouldn't abandon Li Lianhua to his grave, least of all on the side of the road. In this hypothetical scenario. Li Lianhua would most certainly wake up tucked in his bed under two silk blankets, layered down to his inner robes, his hair brushed down while his hair ornaments have been carefully set aside, his usually empty meridian filled with the joyful warmth of Fang Xiaobao's Yangzhouman, more beloved in sleep than he allows himself to be in consciousness.
"Is that so? And how would you poison me, young fox?"
"Your tea," Fang Xiaobao says with disturbing eagerness.
Li Lianhua scoffs, waving his hand in dismissal. He's not so senile yet he can't tell anymore if his tea is poisoned or not. "I expected better from my prized pupil."
Fang Duobing's smug smile doesn't falter in the least, strengthened both by the backhanded compliment and the knowledge of a trick he knows of and Li Lianhua, master of tricks, does not. "Your prized pupil would loath to disappoint your expectations, master."
Li Lianhua perks up, delighted despite himself. "Ah. Not the tea. The cup. Skin contamination. Through the cuts. You devil child."
"You'd deserve it. I told you to dress your wounds, didn't I?" Fang Duobing does the impossible and manages to channel at once the respective spirits of an overbearing grandmother scolding their offspring and a cheeky child that just successfully pulled a prank on their older sibling. "Next time, maybe you'll listen to me instead of calling me a busybody."
"You're a busybody, Sir Many Worries," Li Lianhua retorts, all too fondly.
There is a non-existent chance Fang Duobing will fail to spot the uncontrollable swell of pride in Li Lianhua's voice, the giddy grin cradled at the corner of his mouth. How far Fang Duobing has come under Li Lianhua's tutelage, from a dew-eyed white lotus, a beloved, spoiled young master who wouldn't recognize deception if it stole its purse under his nose, to this thick-faced schemer, shamelessly making him pay for refusing to attend to the meaningless papercuts he acquired while gardening and abusing Li Lianhua's guilt to his own end.
It is a disgusting feeling to indulge, this grim satisfaction to have changed Fang Xiaobao irrevocably to his image, to have successfully corrupted the pure soul put into his hands to his wicked ways in a fashion Li Xiangyi cannot and can never touch, and it shames Li Lianhua to his core.
Fang Duobing, equally attuned to the meteorology of Li Lianhua's moods than Li Lianhua is to his, feels the sudden downturn of his playfulness. Tentatively, he says: "I wouldn't really poison you though."
Li Lianhua smiles, and flicks a finger to his forehead. "I know. Go now, and be sure to act as much like a sycophant as you can. That should turn him off pretty quickly."
Fang Duobing swaps his hand away, indignant. "I'm not a sycophant!"
"Aren't you?" Li Lianhua tuts dryly, before swiftly changing his composure to that of a doe-eyed maiden in the throes of first love, batting his eyelashes in an outrageously exaggerated fashion. "Oh, Sect Leader Li! Sect Leader Li honors me! I'm in Sect Leader Li's debt, how may I ever repay him? Sect Leader Li, would you show me again how you yield your sword-"
Li Lianhua's laughter follows Fang Duobing's back until the boy cannot be seen anymore, then fades into obscurity.
.
.
The next hours are an exercise in self-inflicted torture.
Li Lianhua waters his plants, and pictures Li Xiangyi and Fang Duobing side by side, two talented geniuses at the peak of their youth, perfectly assorted together. He stirs the tincture in its pot and imagines a dazzled Fang Duobing laughing with his childhood hero and sharing candies, having fun instead of withering under the weight of Li Lianhua's mistakes, rejuvenated from the three years of grief Li Lianhua inflicted upon his innocence. He washes the dishes and plans in excruciating detail how he would proceed in Li Xiangyi's place to lure his charming new friend away from the claws of his old, lecherous master, the seeds of doubt he'd plant in his head, the glimpses of the wonderful adventures they could have together if only He-xiong came with him. He delivers the remedy to Granny Qin's grandon and sees in his mind, clear as day, Fang Duobing and his massive, bleeding heart, moved to the brink of tears by the extent of the agony Li Xiangyi barely manages to contain from spilling out by constantly moving, constantly chasing, constantly running.
At the end of the day, he sits on the porch with Hulijing and his blood boils with the debilitating fear Fang Duobing might not return to him and the seething certainly he shouldn't, that the brightest part of Li Linahua's life would be better off with the cleaner, less broken version of himself. Li Xiangyi might be a mess right now, shattered by the reality of his shixiong's betrayal, but he'll recover eventually if he doesn't manage to kill himself through sheer recklessness before then.
Fang Duobing would be the best thing to ever happen to him, just like he was the best thing to ever happen to Li Lianhua.
A finger flicks to his forehead.
"What was that for?" Li Lianhua scowls as he rubs at the tender spot of skin. "Is this how you treat your elders, Xiaobao?"
"Did you know," Fang Duobing drawls out, "that there might be the ruins of an ancient Nanyin stronghold in the mountains two cities over?"
"Aiyah, do you really expect me to know every petty crook of the country? You truly have such high esteem for me."
"What a funny coincidence we'd find out about that, just when Sect Leader Li was there, obviously very interested to explore those urgently. Apparently, Auntie Po heard it from the fisherman's son who heard it from his grandfather who heard it from Granny Qin."
"Why is that so surprising to you?" Li Lianhua says. "Those Wenshang disciples had to be going somewhere. Has he left already then? Feel free to follow him if you want."
Fang Duobing slips his thumb under Li Liuanhua's chin and tilts his head up. "My master is such a two-faced demon. You push me away with one hand, and secretly weave a web to keep me tied on the other."
Under the intensity of Fang Duobing's glare, the scorching heat of his judgment, Li Lianhua's heart swells to the overflow and spills into his throat. A dozen rebuttals, a dozen mistruths rise up to his tongue and remain stuck there, frozen in place by the crushing reality of Fang Duobing's sincerity.
Fang Xiaobao, Fang Xiaobao, why do you sound so pleased to finally understand the extent of Li Lianhua's deviancy, the expance of his wickedness, the depth of his hypocrisy?
"Whatever," Fang Duobing says as he releases Li Lianhua's face from his grip and saunters inside their home. "Have you made dinner already? I'm starving."