Chapter Text
Earthworms
“What are you doing?”
Mo Ran looks up unthinkingly when he hears the sudden question, and unintentionally makes eye contact with an unfamiliar boy dressed in pure white flowing robes.
It’s a little embarrassing, how he feels his breath literally catch, wondering for a ridiculous moment whether a benevolent god had descended from the heavens.
The rain had just ceased from pouring, and the sun is slowly starting to peek out between the gray, gloomy clouds hiding its radiance. The boy is gazing down at Mo Ran from where he’s sprawled ungracefully on the ground, expression gentle and curious. His form is framed gracefully by the emerging sunlight, adding to the strangely divine image being projected.
“Uh—the earthworms,” Mo Ran manages to remember to reply, feeling a little silly talking with both palms cupped, “I’m helping them get back to their home…”
He feels a little embarrassed saying it out loud. He knows it’s a childish and naive act…but he just felt sorry for the poor things.
“Do you want to help me?” Mo Ran’s mouth is faster than his manners, belatedly remembering he doesn’t even know this boy who was wearing an all white set of robes.
The boy doesn’t reply, but he does kneel beside Mo Ran, and wordlessly starts carefully cupping an earthworm in his hands. The expression on his face is entirely too serious and focused for the mundanity of the task at hand…and it might just be the cutest thing Mo Ran has seen, what the hell.
They spend a few minutes in companionable silence, putting back the stray earthworms into the moist soil. Mo Ran is itching to start a conversation, intensely curious about this kid that just showed up out of nowhere and helping him save earthworms. But the boy looked very focused, and Mo Ran didn’t want to interrupt.
“I guess that’s all of them,” Mo Ran eventually declares, huffing in relief. He winces in sympathy when he sees the boy’s now muddied robes as they stand up together, “I’m Mo Ran, by the way. I don’t think I’ve seen you around before…what’s your name?”
If the boy was new, Mo Ran didn’t want to make things awkward by just straight up declaring that he’s one of the Elders of Sisheng Peak.
Before the boy can respond, however, he hears the call of “Shizun!” from somewhere behind him. Mo Ran looks back to see a group of his disciples walking towards them. Is he late for their training? He must have lost track of the time.
“Sorry!” Mo Ran calls out to his disciples as he turns to face them fully, despite knowing he sounds unapologetic, “I got distracted…”
“By the way, these are my disciples—” Mo Ran trails off unexpectedly as he looks to where the boy had been, the space now vacant.
As he scans the vicinity, he can’t find any trace of the kid at all either…it’s a pity, he laments internally. He didn’t even get the boy’s name.
—
Who?!
Mo Ran is a little bit worried about the situation he’s found himself in. He eventually learns that the boy that helped him save the earthworms is called Chu Wanning. And that no, it’s not sheer coincidence that the kid shared a name with a famous cultivator who is quickly shaping up to becoming the greatest cultivator of their time.
It really, truly is that same Chu Wanning—the Beidou Xianjun. And that same Chu Wanning is going to be Mo Ran’s disciple. What. Anyone else would have probably been overjoyed to be named shizun to the cultivation realm’s greatest prodigy in their lifetime. But Mo Ran is…apprehensive.
Mo Ran isn’t unfamiliar with rich young masters from the Upper Cultivation realm coming to Sisheng Peak in order to become his disciple. He’s turned away every single one of them, though not entirely intentionally. He just found that he really didn’t have the patience to deal with spoiled, sheltered brats that only wanted to be his disciple because he was one of the strongest cultivators and was more accessible to being their shizun due to being a member of Sisheng Peak, a sect that accepted almost everybody.
Though Chu Wanning did seem like a good kid, humoring Mo Ran and even helping him save some silly little earthworms. It only makes him more confused, though. The kid must have known who Mo Ran was when they met. The Sect Leader did say that Chu Wanning asked for Mo Ran to be his shizun, if he was willing.
Did Chu Wanning think he needed to humor Mo Ran to get into his good graces? Maybe he thought there was something deeper to saving some earthworms, and left when he realized there wasn’t? Did Mo Ran accidentally make Chu Wanning do something humiliating and below him?
He can’t think of any viable, logical reason why someone like Chu Wanning—a once esteemed guest cultivator at Rufeng Sect—would lower himself into becoming a disciple of a sect in the Lower Cultivation realm. And even asking to become Mo Ran’s disciple.
Still, he can’t help but be curious about the boy and his reasons for coming here. There was also something his uncle told him that he wanted to dismiss as words said just to convince him into agreeing.
Xue Zhengyong had told him, “I also thought that you’d be a great fit as his shizun! You’d be able to teach and show him things the other Elders can’t, Ran’er.”
What things??? Mo Ran wants to ask. But he’d been a little too flabbergasted by the revelation that Chu Wanning wanted to be his disciple at the time to ask.
There are so many ways this could go awry. And yet when his mind briefly flashed the image of Chu Wanning’s cutely focused face, his dumb mouth had ended up agreeing to his uncle’s (and Chu Wanning’s) request.
—
Welcome
Mo Ran told himself that he wasn’t going to go through lengths to impress Chu Wanning. He would treat the boy the same as any of his other disciples. If his newest disciple wanted special treatment, he should have picked literally any other Elder or sect.
Still. Mo Ran wanted to make Chu Wanning feel welcomed, you know? So what if he maybe prepares a little welcome banquet at his residence when it’s time to introduce his newest disciple to the rest of his disciples?
It’s really fully on him for having any sort of expectations. Maybe the small moment of camaraderie they shared, saving earthworms together, made Mo Ran delude himself enough to think that someone like Chu Wanning would be grateful or even appreciate Mo Ran’s efforts at making him feel welcomed.
He tells himself it doesn’t hurt to see Chu Wanning’s apprehensive look upon seeing the spread of food on the table. Or the visibly disgusted and displeased expression when he takes one bite of the food Mo Ran prepared. Mo Ran feels his goodwill or the tentative questions he had prepared to ask fizzle out and evaporate.
What does the opinion of one kid matter, when all of his other disciples joyfully and gratefully dig into the food he made? The contentment and appreciation on their faces and words are worth way more than some spoiled gongzi’s opinion who he’s barely known for a week, anyway.
If anything, it reminds him of how lucky he is, and proves his decision to take in kids that reminded him of himself as disciples to be the right choice. They were all deprived of the fulfillment of even just their basic needs before arriving in Sisheng Peak, just like him. It takes so depressingly little to make them happy and content, and Mo Ran is more than honored to provide them a similarly comfortable and kind environment the Xue family had given him.
Chu Wanning remains damningly still and quiet for the entire duration of the welcome banquet, barely interacting with anyone except for the occasional nod or shake of his head when asked a question. Mo Ran was right to be worried. It’s only the beginning, and it’s already shaping up to be a mess.
—
Roommate
Mo Ran’s disciples are complaining that their new shidi is really, awfully disorganized. And they’re too scared of moving or breaking any of Chu Wanning’s things in case they were fragile or important. Also who in their right mind would move their scary little shidi’s stuff? Not to mention how Chu Wanning apparently gets up randomly at ungodly hours of the night to tinker with his prototypes or whatever.
The kid is obviously unused to rooming with other people. Or cleaning up after himself, for that matter. Is he really going to stoop so low and scold his disciple about something so petty? He’s not even sure he can keep up his patient, friendly expression—he really doesn’t like dealing with sheltered kids.
All his disciples have temporarily fled the quarters, leaving Mo Ran standing over Chu Wanning’s small makeshift table, and seeing for himself the absolute chaos the kid has wrought over the place in the short amount of time he’s stayed here.
“Chu Wanning,” Mo Ran sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Can I talk to you for a bit?”
Chu Wanning has absolutely no right looking adorably curious and confused as he blinks up at Mo Ran. The kid, surprisingly obediently stands and waits politely nearby, hands folded in front of him. Looking the perfect picture of innocence, as if he didn’t just indirectly cause multiple of his shixiong to trip on their faces this morning alone.
“You should learn to clean up after yourself,” Mo Ran works hard to remember to phrase things as a statement, not a request. He’s Chu Wanning’s shizun, not his babysitter, “It could be inconvenient to the others—I almost tripped walking here.”
His disciple’s eyes widen slightly, and flits away from him, looking down at the floor. Oh, oh no. Why does that simple gesture seem so dejected? Focus, Mo Ran, focus.
“Just…I know it must be new, rooming with other people,” Mo Ran shrugs, already feeling himself falter, “But try to be considerate and keep the mess to a minimum, alright?”
Chu Wanning bows his head shallowly and says in a stony but respectful tone, “I apologize, shizun. This disciple will keep shizun’s words in mind.”
“Right, that’s all,” Mo Ran awkwardly dismisses and clears his throat, before hesitantly walking out of the quarters.
When he looks back to take a peek, he thankfully sees Chu Wanning picking up his stuff. Hopefully it actually sticks…
—
Fitting in
Mo Ran is trying his best to get along with his newest disciple, he really is. It’s just that the more he gets to know the boy, the more his prejudice of Chu Wanning being just another entitled young master gets solidified. And it really doesn’t help when the kid has the skills to back his arrogance up.
Discomfort practically radiates from the boy whenever Mo Ran sees Chu Wanning. In the few weeks that the boy has been his disciple, Mo Ran has never seen him walk up to anyone to initiate a conversation. In Mengpo Hall, on the rare occasions Mo Ran sees Chu Wanning there, the boy always sits alone, unwilling to join the others.
Why did Chu Wanning join a lowly sect like Sisheng Peak, when it’s very clear he finds its inhabitants to be too below him to interact with? Even just the idea of physically brushing against someone seems to repulse the boy, always flinching away when anyone gets too near.
Not to mention, though Chu Wanning apparently wanted to be his disciple, that he’s very unreceptive to Mo Ran’s attempts at a conversation. Always looking at him with an unreadable stoic gaze, answering with a shrug, a nod or shake of the head. Very rarely even answering with full sentences.
But what’s really bothering him is the effect on his disciples of having Chu Wanning as their shidi.
Mo Ran has always had a soft spot for outcasts, and preferred to take in the disciples that needed extra help to fully reach their potential. The ones that the other Elders didn’t look at twice into taking in, not even Xuanji Elder. He’s reminded of his younger self, learning way too late, almost too late, to form a golden core. To even learn how to read and write.
Having someone like Chu Wanning as a shidi is just completely and utterly unfair. Even if his disciples had been the very cream of crop within Sisheng Peak or even in the entire cultivation realm, it just isn’t fair to anyone to be compared to someone on a linear path to the utmost peak of the cultivation realm.
He’s extremely worried how it’s going to hurt or affect his disciples’ perception of themselves, of their self-esteem, when Chu Wanning does and learns everything so easily and quickly. Mo Ran himself wonders what even is the point of him as Chu Wanning’s shizun, when there doesn’t seem to be anything he can teach the boy.
Chu Wanning himself doesn’t hold back either—not that Mo Ran wanted him to. The boy proudly displays his abilities and holds no punches. Mo Ran himself feels pathetically left in the dust in comparison to Chu Wanning’s academic background. Absolutely none of Mo Ran’s other disciples can keep up, not even just with the way Chu Wanning trains.
The kid seemed to have a ridiculous amount of stamina and endurance. Always training before the sun is up until when it has long set. It was excessive. Mo Ran has already stopped some of his disciples from attempting to do the same, thinking it would somehow net them the same outcome if they tried to emulate their shidi’s training method. They might actually die if they tried it for even a week.
It’s just a little bit difficult to explain to his disciples kindly that their shidi’s limits are not the same as their limits without making it obvious how vast the gap between their abilities were.
Hell, even Mo Ran found it a little unfair when he passed by Chu Wanning, who had been walking home from training all day, robes and hair damp with sweat. Yet still somehow, under the moonlight, he just looked…well, ethereal. Also for some reason he still smelled sweet, a bit like flowers.
It was frustrating for everyone, how perfect and immovable his youngest disciple seemed to be so effortlessly.
—
Weakness
Mo Ran learned that Chu Wanning may have a weakness after all. It all started when he announced to his disciples that he was going to teach them the Imperial Sword Technique. Mo Ran assumed that Chu Wanning already mastered it long ago, not even thinking twice about it.
But then when Mo Ran told them the reason he was teaching them the technique, which is that he’s going to bring them to Jincheng Lake to try to acquire a holy weapon, his usually unruffled disciple started acting a little cagey.
Chu Wanning approaches him at the end of morning practice and tells him, “Will I be allowed to stay behind, shizun? I already have my holy weapons.”
Emphasis on weapons. Mo Ran would think the boy was flaunting it if he didn’t know that Chu Wanning is above petty mortal things like showing off so obviously.
“Don’t you think it will be better then, for your shixiong and shijie to have you come along?” This must be the first time Chu Wanning has expressed aversion to doing something—that’s related to cultivation, anyway—and Mo Ran is itching to know why, “It might be helpful for them to have your guidance.”
“But shizun also has a holy weapon,” Chu Wanning’s brows furrow as he frowns, and it is an unfairly and unreasonably adorable expression on his normally aloof face, “They don’t need me.”
“Sure, but don’t you want to be there for your shixiong and shijie? What if one of them gets a holy weapon?” Mo Ran knows he’s one breath away from guilt tripping, but who knows if it will even work on Chu Wanning.
His disciple remains silent, and Mo Ran watches Chu Wanning’s expression tighten further as he bites his lower lip.
Eventually, Chu Wanning says in a quiet voice, almost inaudibly, “...I don’t know the Imperial Sword Technique.”
It takes Mo Ran a moment to process what the boy just said. Oh. Oh. That was utterly unexpected—and he knows his expression betrayed his shock completely. It’s a good thing though! At least, Chu Wanning seemed to finally learn to humble himself enough to admit a weakness to Mo Ran, and he needed to encourage said behavior instead of overreacting unduly.
“I see, thank you for telling me,” Mo Ran tries to keep his tone light and casual, “It’s my fault for assuming, too. I’ll make sure to teach you properly alongside everyone else starting tomorrow, okay?”
He wonders if he imagines the tension further coiling in Chu Wanning’s frame after his words, though.
—
Progress
It’s been a month and a half, and Mo Ran thinks they might be making some progress. His disciples have long since stopped complaining about the havoc their shidi wreaked on their shared quarters. Not to mention his disciples have given up trying to set Chu Wanning’s unreasonable standards for themselves when they realized how impossible it was for someone not Chu Wanning.
Also, he thinks that finally figuring out a weakness Chu Wanning has, no matter how simple or easily remedied, is finally humanizing the boy in his disciples’ eyes—and his too, really.
Though Mo Ran is quite proud of how far his disciples have come in just a few days. They seem to take training seriously these days, possibly because of Chu Wanning’s presence. A surprisingly more positive effect than Mo Ran had expected, despite worrying that his disciples’ self-esteem would be crushed in trying to futilely catch up to their shidi. Mo Ran makes sure to praise them individually when they do well, encouraging their efforts and growth.
The Imperial Sword Technique isn’t difficult or complicated, yet it seemed to be the one technique so far that Chu Wanning just seemed to be unable to comprehend or know how to do. Mo Ran has been trying not to hover too annoyingly, preferring to let Chu Wanning come to him if he needed help. The kid needs to learn to swallow his pride and ask for help when needed.
Still, when Chu Wanning seems to make no progress on their third session, when everyone else has flown at least a couple dozens of feet above the ground, Mo Ran decides he can’t wait anymore. The lesson about asking for help can come later, but for now, he needs to know what was hindering Chu Wanning from doing something that everyone else managed to get on the second session.
As he’s walking towards his disciple, Mo Ran formulates how to tell Chu Wanning that it’s okay not to know how to do everything on the first try, and that it doesn’t make him less of a genius, without sounding patronizing or effusive. It must be a real blow to his disciple’s confidence, and he doesn’t want to accidentally hurt Chu Wanning’s self-esteem just to elevate his other disciples’.
But then. Out of nowhere, Chu Wanning just—
His disciple, Chu Wanning, crumples down without warning.
Mo Ran feels himself move faster than even he thought he could, feeling like his heart got submerged into icy, freezing water as unadulterated dread and terror spreads from his chest throughout his person. Immediately, he checks Chu Wanning’s pulse, who looked worryingly pale, his fear doubling when he couldn’t even tell what was wrong from checking. Could it be that whatever is afflicting his disciple is undetectable to him?
With Chu Wanning’s surprisingly light weight in his arms, Mo Ran all but single-mindedly tears through Sisheng Peak as he brings his unconscious disciple to the healers.
—
Hunger
After the healers calm him down and reassure his panicked pacing and rising hysteria, they tell him that Chu Wanning just passed out from hunger.
Hunger. Hunger?!
Mo Ran wants to be annoyed. He really, really does. But instead, he just feels the wondrous relief wash over him gratifyingly, almost melting over a chair he all but slumps to as he repeats the healers’ words over and over again.
“Don’t worry, Elder—he’s fine! He just seems to have passed out from hunger. He must have not eaten anything today.”
He can still feel the phantom grip of sheer terror gripping him, when he saw Chu Wanning pass out, only tightening further when he saw Chu Wanning’s worryingly pale lips.
Really, though. Even though Chu Wanning’s cultivation practice is asceticism, doesn’t mean the boy was starving himself. Did his disciple just forget to eat or something? He can’t help but bitterly think of it being a habit born out of privilege. To just…forget to eat, to take for granted having food to eat. Would that Mo Ran had silly problems like that as a kid, instead of worrying about starving to death.
Mo Ran kind of wants to cry, a little envious of his disciple’s peacefully sleeping expression. He really thought he fucked up as a shizun, somehow. That Chu Wanning had been hiding an injury or something worse that he never noticed, and his poor disciple was going to be the one paying for his unintended neglect.
But it’s fine, Chu Wanning is fine—will be fine, anyway, once he finally wakes up and Mo Ran nags his disciple into eating. On one hand, he thinks he should be annoyed at having to remind his disciple to eat of all things. He’s Chu Wanning shizun, not his servant.
Still, Mo Ran finds he can’t hold onto his bitterness for too long, seeing Chu Wanning’s still wan and unconscious face. Not to mention how the boy was curled up on the small bed. Mo Ran wonders if Chu Wanning’s stomach is grumbling uncomfortably, causing him to sleep like this. It shouldn’t be as cute as it is, he should be more annoyed, and yet here they were.
—
Unfair
It thankfully doesn’t take long before Chu Wanning slowly blinks awake, though he looks understandably dazed. Combined with how Chu Wanning is sleeping on his side, cheek pressed against the sheets, it really does paint an unreasonably adorable picture. It annoys him a bit, how aggressively cute Chu Wanning is yet how Mo Ran can’t even squeeze his face or pinch his cheeks. The world is truly unfair.
Mo Ran watches his disciple’s expression with growing amusement. How Chu Wanning’s half-focused expression doesn’t seem to immediately recognize Mo Ran, blinking before widening briefly, which is all the warning he gets before Chu Wanning suddenly sits upright.
The swift, unprepared motion clearly causes discomfort, with the way Chu Wanning sways very slightly before tensing. All of it happens quickly and subtly, and Mo Ran only even notices because he had been expecting it. Mo Ran is already half out of his chair, hands hovering unsurely, uncertain if his touch would only cause more harm than comfort.
In the end, he decides to grab the pillows and put it behind Chu Wanning in his best attempt to help, “Here, lean back a bit.”
Luckily, his disciple doesn’t protest and easily obeys, leaning back on the pillows with his head slightly tilted up. Chu Wanning looks worryingly pale again. The sight is a little bit too pitiful for Mo Ran, and he’s already reaching out and running a light hand over Chu Wanning’s head in a gentle, soothing motion.
Mo Ran almost pulls away when he realizes what he’s doing—Chu Wanning seemed to hate even the idea of being touched, brushed against or just anyone in his personal space, after all. But his heart squeezes when the boy only closes his eyes, not leaning away or towards his touch.
After a few moments, color finally returns to his disciple’s previously pallid complexion. Chu Wanning opens his eyes slowly, looking at Mo Ran with his usual unreadable gaze. Mo Ran stares back, before slowly realizing he’s still petting his disciple’s head, and awkwardly, reluctantly pulls away.
His disciple’s gaze flits away, instead looking at somewhere on the side or ground. Mo Ran notes how there might be a little bit more color than usual on his disciple’s face after all…and his ears, for that matter. Chu Wanning looks flustered—embarrassed, he would say. Heavens please give him the strength required not to squish this boy’s cheeks.
“Do you think you can keep some water down? I’ll get you a cup, hold on,” Mo Ran asks rhetorically in an attempt to distract both of them, busying himself with the tray of a jug of water and cups on a nearby table.
Mo Ran definitely moves before thinking, because next thing he knows, he’s trying to guide Chu Wanning to drink out of the cup he’s holding. The small, flustered noise that escapes his disciple snaps him back to remembering himself, allowing Chu Wanning to take the cup from his hands and drink it on his own. Mo Ran’s hands twitch a little, worried that his disciple might not have the strength yet, but thankfully no water spills out.
If anything though, Chu Wanning looks positively redder than before, and Mo Ran sure hopes his disciple isn’t somehow coming down with a fever. Which is all but impossible anyway, what with the strength of Chu Wanning’s cultivation base.
“Are you feeling better?” Mo Ran asks with genuine concern, leaning down slightly to try to make eye contact with his disciple, whose eyes flit up to glance back but immediately looks away again.
Chu Wanning nods jerkily, hands fiddling with the cup in his hand, his index finger tapping impatiently against the ceramic.
“You should still take the rest of the day off,” Mo Ran suggests, expecting resistance.
Predictably, Chu Wanning straightens up at that, already looking indignant. The boy’s mouth opens briefly, before firmly shutting close. Mo Ran only notices it because his attention is fully on Chu Wanning, but the kid seems to tense up before sort of…subtly hunching inwards on himself.
Although Mo Ran finds it difficult to read Chu Wanning at the best of times, it’s undeniable that the kid seemed to be upset about something. It’s a little distressing, because he doesn’t know where to even begin to soothe it.
Since it’s Chu Wanning he’s dealing with, any more attempts at gauging the boy’s current state will likely only be misinterpreted as pointing out weaknesses. Not to mention bringing up the cause of Chu Wanning’s fainting—or the fact that his disciple passed out in the first place, will likely not be received well.
Desperately, he tries to fumble within his mind for something to cheer his disciple up. Uhhh. Food? Food! Food always cheered Mo Ran up, and really, most anyone he knows. Not to mention, the whole reason they were in this situation in the first place is because Chu Wanning apparently passed out from hunger.
“Mengpo Hall,” Mo Ran blurts out unthinkingly, “Um. Let’s go to Mengpo Hall…I’m kinda hungry, and you should eat to regain your energy too.”
Chu Wanning stares at him with a disbelieving, wildly confused expression, but remains quiet. It’s kind of oddly expressive, borderline uncharacteristic really. Mo Ran has probably seen more emotion and variety of it today on the boy’s face than he has in the entire month and a half they’ve known each other.
—
Annoyance
It is quite an arduous journey from the healers’ to Mengpo Hall, what with Mo Ran awkwardly hovering every time Chu Wanning wobbles slightly while walking. Of course his prideful little disciple refused to accept any of Mo Ran’s attempts to help, even just to get up from the bed to stand. Chu Wanning also never failed to glare mutinously at Mo Ran whenever his disciple catches him staring with both hands up ready to catch Chu Wanning if he falls.
“I’m not an invalid,” Chu Wanning snaps at him from where he’s leaning pitifully against a pillar, looking furious, cheeks flushed red, “I can take care of myself.”
It’s utterly petulant and irritable, and yet so annoyingly endearing. Mo Ran can’t help but be reminded of a feral kitten he once tried to approach. It walked shakily on its little legs, but hissed so aggressively when Mo Ran approached, before scurrying hurriedly away out of his sight. In hindsight, he really should have been more careful and moved slower.
With some amusement, Mo Ran wonders if he should take the same approach in his disciple. Though he thinks he may have already been subconsciously applying said tactics anyway. He’s mostly let Chu Wanning be, waiting for the kid to approach him if needed or when he’s ready. But a prodigious little zongshi may be a tad more complicated than a stray, feral kitten, no matter how similar in levels of aggression and cuteness.
Finally, they reach the inside of Mengpo Hall. Mo Ran had been a bit scared that Chu Wanning might actually bite his hand in annoyance when he reached out and steadied the boy before he almost fell face first on the ground. Chu Wanning only batted his hand away with a sullen glare, though Mo Ran noticed how the tips of his ears were practically glowing red with heat.
“I’ll get us some food,” Mo Ran addresses his disciple, who is now thankfully sitting down, arms crossed in obvious irritation. He doesn’t wait for a response or acknowledgement, and instead turns and heads to do as he said.
It’s currently at an odd hour to be in Mengpo Hall, somewhere in the afternoon, therefore it’s just the two of them around. There is luckily still food remaining, however, which he can easily heat up to make it more appetizing to eat. Mo Ran returns with the tray of food, happy and content with the variety and amount he managed to gather in a short amount of time. His disciple doesn’t seem to share his sentiment, however.
The disdainful expression on Chu Wanning’s face reminds Mo Ran unpleasantly of the time he wasted precious hours preparing perfectly good if humble food to try and welcome his new disciple with. He feels the beginnings of something bitter start to build within him, the annoyance that he couldn’t muster up earlier finally burgeoning.
Mo Ran blows air through his nose to try to mitigate his rising temper, and tries to talk in as neutral a tone as he can, “Look, I promise it’s good, at least try it. This is all you’re getting, I’m afraid.”
It’s belittling to talk about this spread of food as if it’s barely better than livestock feed. Mo Ran would have killed to be able to have food, especially food like this, be so readily accessible whenever he felt hungry or just wanted to eat.
“No,” Chu Wanning’s crossed arms tighten further, his expression twisting into something even more derisive, “I’m not hungry.”
“I don’t want to hear that from someone who just passed out from hunger,” Mo Ran bluntly, mercilessly points out, losing the patience to stay tactful, “Can you stop being difficult and just be grateful? I’m still your shizun and your elder. I’m not your servant, Chu-gongzi.”
Chu Wanning’s tight expression falls into something a little more pitiful looking, but Mo Ran holds his ground. So what if there was a flash of hurt and shame that crossed Chu Wanning’s face that was obvious even to Mo Ran’s eyes? He needs to draw a line somewhere—he’s already shown Chu Wanning far more patience than he gives anyone else.
—
Oh no
After minutes of simmering silence, to the point that Mo Ran almost decides to just get up and leave Chu Wanning alone, his disciple finally picks up his chopsticks, toying slightly with the food in front of him. Mo Ran sighs, a little fed up with the constant delaying. He feels just the tiniest bit guilty when Chu Wanning visibly tenses right after, though, clearly feeling his impatience.
Finally though, Chu Wanning picks up a piece of meat and raises it near his lips. Mo Ran doesn’t roll his eyes at the unnecessarily dramatically defeated and fearful look on the boy’s face, but it’s a near thing. Really, Chu Wanning acted like Mo Ran was holding him at swordpoint and forcing him to take poison or something.
It’s a bit comical to see Chu Wanning clench his eyes shut before shoving the small piece of meat in his mouth. Visibly reluctantly, his jaw finally starts moving slowly to signal that he’s chewing. When Chu Wanning finally swallows the first bite, he opens his eyes, looking unfairly reddened and moist.
Mo Ran snorts half in amusement, half in irritation, “See, it’s not so bad, right? You didn’t die from it, it’s perfectly edible.”
His disciple rebelliously ignores him, not even looking at him in acknowledgement. Whatever, at least Mo Ran can say he tried taking care of Chu Wanning, and will go with a clear conscience.
“Right, well, it’s up to you if you’ll eat the rest of it,” Mo Ran rises from the chair, ready to leave and go back to training his other disciples he left behind, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Chu Wanning keeps ignoring him, and Mo Ran takes that as his cue to leave his disciple alone. He’s had enough of dealing with this sulky behavior for today. There’s no point in even snapping or scolding someone who’s determined to give Mo Ran the silent treatment.
The loud thud of ceramic hitting wood causes Mo Ran to instinctively look towards the source of the noise. He feels confusion morph into annoyance morph back into confusion when he sees Chu Wanning’s head thrown back, looking like he couldn't drink water fast enough. His disciple immediately refills cup after cup, seemingly unable to quench his thirst.
Mo Ran feels a hint of something uncomfortable unfurling at the back of his mind, though doesn’t fully understand it yet. Unthinkingly, he walks back slightly closer, and from where he’s now standing, Mo Ran sees the slight tear tracks on Chu Wanning’s face. And the now unmistakably reddened, teary eyes and his slightly swollen lips, hissing through his teeth as he pours water on the cup.
Chu Wanning looked evidently pained, and it didn’t look like put upon nor exaggerated either. If anything, the expression is still very Chu Wanning. Tightly wounded and controlled, only the visible physical signs betraying that he must be feeling any sort of discomfort.
The fact is that it’s plain to see that Chu Wanning is utterly unable to handle spicy food. And Mo Ran is somehow only finding out now, after a whole month and half of having Chu Wanning as his disciple. Chu Wanning should have told him—but then on the other hand, Mo Ran should have noticed.
A discomfiting realization is crystallizing in Mo Ran’s mind, connecting little threads to the different small observations he had of Chu Wanning that he dismissed despite unconsciously noticing that something was wrong.
It’s probably a stupid theory, and he’s likely making a big deal out of something simple, Mo Ran tells himself. It’s one thing, it’s just one thing, yet he can’t help but feel a bit blindsided. Because it’s just one thing that kind of upends some things he thought he knew of Chu Wanning, and now, he can’t help but be concerned about what other possible things he might have missed.