Cultivation Retirement Plan (BL)

The skies seemed to have swallowed a pitcher of ink and spat it out across the expanse of clouds. It was gloomy and black when Mo Yixuan stepped out of the back door and lightly jumped onto the roof. His silent steps were muffled by the raindrops that soon soaked him to the skin, acting as an invisible cover as he walked to the front of the house.

There by the door, barely imperceptible in the storm, knelt Nan Wuyue. He was still staring at the ground, his clothes and hair a sad sodden mess. The line of his back was impossibly straight, but every now and then he swayed and had to catch himself again. Mo Yixuan watched on without a word. What he was looking for he didn’t know, beyond a need to wait.

—

Darkness drowned Nan Wuyue’s world. Without the sun to mark time, minutes had bled into hours, then faceless stretches of gray. Even the cold had left him, to be replaced by a numbing wetness from the rain that had grown into a second skin. He wasn’t sure how long it’d been since Mo Yixuan had left him, but the image of his master’s snow-white robes was seared into his mind. Bright and clean, light and soft—yet it burned with a merciless ferocity as it clawed its silhouette into the black.

He grit his teeth as another wave of dizziness passed through his head. Qing’er’s claims weren’t completely right—his body now was sturdier than the original Nan Wuyue at this point in time. But in the end, there was only so much he could do to improve in three months and his shortcomings were still glaring flaws. His knees ached for release, while his spine burned. His vision was blurry, but he couldn’t tell whether his own exhaustion or the rain was to blame. Sheets of it streamed past his face, making it difficult to keep his eyes open. Yet he forced the eyelids up, head bowed nearly to his chest to shield them from the downpour.

A little more...just a little longer…

He would find a way to wear his master down eventually. For once, his status as the “useless” core disciple could work in his favor—it would be too harsh for Mo Yixuan to punish someone like him this way, and Qing’er had already witnessed his plight. Mo Yixuan himself had provided proof when he so carelessly paid her for her goods, instead of rejecting her outright. Stay here long enough, and even the peak lords would talk. Four of them were disciples of the same master as Mo Yixuan, but the other four were not.

At most, he’d only fall ill. Mo Yixuan had done far worse to him in another life.

But despite his best intentions, his body refused to hold out. The next time Nan Wuyue swayed, he found himself unable to straighten up again. Never had his body felt so heavy, or so stiff. He blankly registered the fact the he was going to crash headfirst against the pavement and made an aborted movement to shield himself—only to fall into a cloud of fabric.

It was silk, as wet as he was but infinitely more warm. Only then did Nan Wuyue realized how cold he really was, a thought that sent his body trembling even as it sought desperately for more warmth.

White robes…

His eyelashes flickered as he vainly sought to find a face, but exhaustion over took him soon enough. The last thing he heard before blacking out was a voice muttering by his ear.

“That’s enough.”

—

Mo Yixuan rested Nan Wuyue’s head on his shoulder before bending down to pick up the boy. He was small for his age and thin enough for the man to heft him up like a child in his arms. The second he saw the youth falling forward, he had flashed off the roof to catch him. It was instinct that had led him here; his mind was still reeling from the sudden burst of speed in under three seconds.

All of his pleasant surprise at the surroundings had evaporated in an instant. What was this godforsaken place? First sleet, then rain? Both were equally freezing, and he hadn’t seen any heaters in the rooms!

The figure in his arms had started shuddering violently. Whatever will Nan Wuyue had used to control himself had completely shattered when he went unconscious, leaving his body to the mercy of the elements. Up close, Mo Yixuan could see that his lips were turning blue. With a muttered curse, he thought fast before heading for the back courtyard. There were plenty of ways a cultivator could summon heat, but Mo Yixuan had only been one a single week to know any of them by heart. Thus, he logically sought out the warmest place on the mountain: the hot springs.

He paused long enough to take off his shoes, then splashed right in. In any case, both of them were already soaked thorough. Steam from the water rose to meet them in waves, and it wasn’t long before Mo Yixuan’s fingers began to tingle pleasantly at the tips. He found a shallow section and sat down with legs crossed, adjusting Nan Wuyue until the boy was sprawled in his lap with his head resting against his shoulder. But that did nothing for his cold, wet hair, so Mo Yixuan adjusted them again until they were submerged from the neck down, his arms wrapped around the waist of his disciple lying above him.

Rain was still falling from the skies, but their cool drops were refreshing in the hot and humid surroundings. Mo Yixuan watched and waited as Nan Wuyue’s shuddering stilled, then stopped. His brows smoothed out as well, and the boy finally seem to relax as he was enveloped in warmth. Mo Yixuan exhaled at the sight, then leaned back to look at the stormy clouds above.

It looked like they’d be stuck here for a while.

Noon turned into afternoon, then dusk and dark again. Mo Yixuan watched the rain tamper away and turn into sleet, then snowflakes that illuminated the night with their fluffy white forms. He marveled at the fact that there was so much more time here, not only to do things, but simply to wait and watch the world pass by. Mo Yixuan didn’t sleep for fear of them falling into the water—although he could breath fine in the qi refining pool, he wouldn’t try that here with an unconscious companion present—and passed the night counting snowflakes while tracing their unique designs to memory.

As a boy, he’d loved building his own creations: towers, bridges, and mini-skyscrapers. But Nature’s own constructed masterpieces had never failed to charm him. That night, Mo Yixuan thought over everything from his childhood hobbies to the ancient architecture of the house behind them, before finally settling on the sleeping boy on his shoulder.

He supposed that Nan Wuyue, like other children, had aspirations of his own. Although he felt no connection to the boy, it was true that this body’s original owner held responsibility for his care. A disciple was supposed to follow his master; if his master failed in his job, then his charge couldn’t be fully blamed for the losses. If Mo Yixuan could find a way to solve some of his disciple’s problems, then he could consider his duties completed and send him away without compunctions.

Dawn was just beginning to peek through the dispersing clouds when Mo Yixuan came to this conclusion. It brightened his mood and graced his features with a small, pleased smile as he stared at the interplay of morning hues painting the horizon.

It was also at this moment that Nan Wuyue awoke.

He’d trained himself to be always on guard when he slept; although he hadn’t meant to black out this time, his senses kicked into gear as soon as his consciousness recovered. He didn’t stiffen any of his muscles, but forced them to relax, using his senses to determine his location. When he realized he was in the hot springs, a jolt of surprise went through his body. That grew into stunned shock when he sensed that someone was holding onto him to keep him afloat.

Slowly, cautiously, Nan Wuyue eased his eyes open. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see the side of Mo Yixuan’s face, and grew perplexed at the expression he was wearing.

Why is he smiling?

His stare must have been too intense, because Mo Yixuan suddenly looked down—only to see Nan Wuyue fast asleep. Deciding that sunlight was a good sign to get out of the waters, Mo Yixuan sat up, pulling the “unconscious” Nan Wuyue with him. His disciple was currently doing his best impression of a dead log as his master waded to the edge of the springs and laid him onshore. Nan Wuyue kept his eyes shut, listening to the stream of water as Mo Yixuan climbed out himself and then bent down to grab him. He forced himself not to tense: if his master tried anything now, he’d be too weak to resist. Bone weary exhaustion plagued his body, making Nan Wuyue regret his rash plans for the first time. His heart gave another jolt as Mo Yixuan stood up carrying him in his arms, bridal style.

What’s he doing?!

Still “sleeping,” Nan Wuyue felt Mo Yixuan carry him into a house, stepping through all the rooms until he set him on a bed. His confusion grew with every passing second. Although he resided at the top of Mt. Jingting with his master, he had his own disciples’ quarters. Judging from the length of time they walked to get here, these were Mo Yixuan’s own rooms. Why did he take him here?

The next second, Nan Wuyue had to fight to keep still when Mo Yixuan abruptly took off one of his shoes! After that came his other boot, then both socks. He couldn’t stop himself from tensing when the man next peeled off his outer robes, but Mo Yixuan didn’t seem to notice. When only a single garment separated Nan Wuyue from his bare skin and forced him to consider a sudden “wake-up call,” Mo Yixuan stopped stripping his clothes. As Nan Wuyue held his breath for whatever came next, he heard Mo Yixuan taking off his own robes, then climbing onto the bed.

….?!?

Again, Nan Wuyue debated waking up, but Mo Yixuan was faster. He pulled Nan Wuyue into a sitting position before settling down behind him. Before he could react, his master thrust two palms against his back and started channeling qi into his body. Nan Wuyue grew alert. Of course one could heal injuries in the body by transferring qi, but all he’d gotten was a chill! His old injuries weren’t that serious, so treatment like this was simply overkill. Was his master so eager to get rid of the traces of his maltreatment?

Meanwhile, Mo Yixuan’s thoughts were far more simple. He’d seen plenty of cultivators do palm channeling in TV shows—even practitioners of wuxia could master the art. Ouyang Che had mentioned it casually in their talk, so he thought to try it here. If the improving color in Nan Wuyue’s complexion was any sign, then it was working just fine.

In the end, this cultivation stuff doesn’t seem too hard.

The heat from his palms warmed Nan Wuyue up again and even dried his clothes. Soon enough, he was breathing more easily, and the chills and shallow breathing that had crept into his lungs receded away into deep, restful inhales. The only exception to the treatment was his hair, its strands still wet and cold. Mo Yixuan couldn’t find anything like a towel to dry Nan Wuyue off, so he ending up loosening the ponytail and combing through the strands with his bare hands.

Few words could describe the mixture of bewilderment, indignation, and fury that swept through Nan Wuyue’s mind at the spontaneous grooming. He wasn’t some sort of cat!

And yet the fingers that ran through his hair were steady and firm, smoothing out the knotted strands and drying them through the heat from the fingertips. For Mo Yixuan, this was something he’d done plenty of times for his late mother. As she grew older, it became more difficult to accomplish simple tasks with the arthritis in her bones. Thus, Mo Yixuan would help feed her, dress her, and comb her hair in place of her caretaker whenever he came to visit.

Once Nan Wuyue’s hair was mostly dry, it was simple enough to lie him down and tuck him in. Mo Yixuan hesitated before resting a hand on the boy’s forehead—would he have gotten a fever after all that?

Fortunately, his temperature seemed normal, so it wasn’t long before Mo Yixuan left the room. In his wake, the figure on the bed remained still for a cautiously long time before finally opening his eyes. His pupils constricted as he slowly recognized his surroundings.

What was he doing here.

What was he doing here?

What was he doing here?!

Important things needed to be said three times, and these were Mo Yixuan’s quarters! In all his eight plus ten years’ time at Star Pavilion Sect, he’d never spent more than an hour within his master’s house, to say nothing of the bedroom! For a second, Nan Wuyue felt like a sheep tossed into the tiger’s lair, just waiting to be shredded to pieces. His thoughts grew complex as he thought over everything that had happened in the past half hour.

He was used to touch—the old Mo Yixuan had been as affectionate as he was “kind”—but not care like this, that looked after every inch of him and then left him alone. It was attentive yet impersonal, as if Mo Yixuan was simply treating a patient and not his disciple. For that reason, Nan Wuyue had tolerated his actions while waiting to see what would happen next. Incomprehensibly, he’d been brought to his master’s most private quarters instead. But his gaze quickly sharpened as he took in his surroundings.

If there was anywhere that Mo Yixuan used to hide his most precious possessions, it would be this room…