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Taxian-jun has been gone for longer than usual.
Chu Wanning tells himself he should be pleased. He is pleased. This is a chance for him to be free from all demands, without Taxian-jun looming over him and using this body of his however he pleases. This is a chance to research, a chance to relax, a chance to find a solution to the Flower of Eightfold Sorrows without having to hide what he is doing.
And yet, as days turn into weeks without a glimpse of Taxian-jun, Chu Wanning cannot help the seed of worry that sprouts within him. He has grown accustomed to Taxian-jun’s unrelenting presence, the visits that have, over the years, become near nightly. Now, even in Taxian-jun’s absence, Chu Wanning cannot erase the man’s presence from his mind. Has Taxian-jun fallen victim to some scheme? Has he finally forgotten about Chu Wanning, finding solace in the arms of others more beautiful and welcoming? (He ignores the twinge of something too like jealousy within him.) Or has Taxian-jun been injured in battle? Has he been killed?
Chu Wanning flinches away from this last thought. Surely if it happened, someone would tell him. They would not just let him continue here in his solitary life if Taxian-jun were gone. But even the mere idea of Taxian-jun’s death sends a shiver of pain through Chu Wanning’s heart. Perhaps Chu Wanning would have once rejoiced in Taxian-jun’s misfortune. But now that he knows of the existence of the Flower of Eightfold Sorrows, he cannot help but remember all the fondness he once held for Mo Ran, love and hatred swirling through him in a confused muddle. Whatever crimes Taxian-jun has committed, Chu Wanning no longer wants him dead. Beyond that, anything is an impossible dream. Taxian-jun has done far too much that is unforgivable. But still, Chu Wanning does not think he could bear Taxian-jun’s death. He had a life before Mo Ran. Surely he could continue on after as well. Yet any time he tries to imagine what that might be like, there is nothing but a blank.
But finally, after long weeks of absence, Taxian-jun returns from wherever it is he went off to. At a clatter of the door, Chu Wanning looks up from where he sits reading. Yet it is not the expected servant. Instead he sees an unusually subdued Taxian-jun standing in the doorway.
Taxian-jun does not speak. He simply curls up on the ground beside Chu Wanning, rests his head on Chu Wanning’s thigh, and wraps his arms around Chu Wanning’s waist. His black robes flutter on the ground like fallen leaves. Despite the frigidity of his expression, he is warm in Chu Wanning’s lap. Alive and well.
With a sigh, Chu Wanning sets aside his book. He hesitates for a moment, but finally lets his hand fall against Taxian-jun’s hair. Chu Wanning cannot deny the unfurling of relief in his chest. Whatever has happened, at least Taxian-jun is still alive. At least he has returned. They sit like that, Taxian-jun holding tight while Chu Wanning strokes his hair, for long minutes.
Then Chu Wanning’s fingers brush against the curve of Taxian-jun’s ear, and Taxian-jun flinches. Chu Wanning freezes, no longer daring to move his hand.
“Wanning,” Taxian-jun says, finally breaking the silence. “I think there’s something wrong with me.”
Chu Wanning frowns. Has Taxian-jun discovered the Flower of Eightfold Sorrows? Or has something else happened to him? Chu Wanning’s fingers tremble where they rest in Taxian-jun’s silken hair.
“What is it?” Chu Wanning asks, his voice held steady by sheer force of will. “Do you need to see a physician?”
“I need…” Taxian-jun buries his face against Chu Wanning’s stomach, muffling the rest of his words. Yet still, they are unmistakable. “I need you.”
With a sudden motion, Taxian-jun lifts himself up and presses Chu Wanning against the wooden floor.
Chu Wanning’s eyebrows draw together and he lets out a faint sigh. He doesn’t know why he expected anything different from Taxian-jun. But he does not resist. There is no point to resisting, even if he wanted to. Taxian-jun will do as he pleases, regardless. And with his relief at finding Taxian-jun alive and his sympathy for whatever brought Taxian-jun to lie docile in his lap still running through him, Chu Wanning finds he does not quite want to push Taxian-jun away. At least he can provide comfort in his humiliation. What else is he good for these days?
It takes Taxian-jun only moments to strip them both of their belts, robes falling open around them. Yet at this point Chu Wanning’s desultory acceptance vanishes and his eyes widen in alarm.
“Mo Ran!” he cries out, his hand lifting to settle against Taxian-jun’s heart, drawn irresistibly to touch. “What happened?”
Perhaps he should not show his care so openly. But he cannot keep his shock in check. Even as Taxian-jun’s heart beats steady against Chu Wanning’s palm, what has appeared upon his body is truly too strange.
From Taxian-jun’s chest sprout vines. They thread under his skin, pulsing dark beneath the fragile pale surface. Leaves curl over muscle and bone, fronds twirling over each rib. Yet despite the unnatural sight, there’s an odd beauty to it, an allure that Chu Wanning cannot look away from. It almost reminds him of the shape of Tianwen burned into Mo Ran’s skin, back when Tianwen was still his to control.
“You think I know?” Taxian-jun says, his expression dark, words bitter. “All I know is these things started showing up one day, and no matter what I do they won’t go away.”
Chu Wanning frowns at the words. Now he can see lines scabbed over where he imagines vines once lay, only to be forcibly pulled out from their home nestled within flesh. Yet that has clearly been no hindrance, as they continue to ripple beneath far too much of Taxian-jun’s skin.
Chu Wanning lets his hand run tentatively over the surface of one vine. Taxian-jun hisses in a breath, but he does not stop Chu Wanning’s exploration. Chu Wanning can just barely feel the vine under its thin covering of skin, and can almost imagine it rustling as it burrows through Taxian-jun’s body, growing upon this firmament of flesh.
It must be related to the Flower of Eightfold Sorrows. It seems too coincidental for it to be otherwise, sprouting as it does from Taxian-jun’s heart. Yet in all of Chu Wanning’s research, he has encountered nothing resembling this.
“Does it hurt?” Chu Wanning asks, then bites his lip. He should not care if Taxian-jun is in pain, not after all the pain he himself has endured at Taxian-jun’s hands. Yet he cannot restrain himself. “Why not go to a doctor?”
“I tried. They were useless. But it doesn’t hurt. Just… itches, sometimes. And now that I’m with you…” Taxian-jun frowns. “It’s different.”
Taxian-jun does not elaborate further. But his hands have not been idle as they speak, and Chu Wanning feels his thoughts scattering as he realizes what they have been up to. Heat spreads through Chu Wanning’s cheeks as his robes fall ever further open, Taxian-jun’s hands trailing over his body.
Clearly tired of speaking, Taxian-jun presses his mouth against Chu Wanning’s. The kiss is ravishing, stealing the breath from Chu Wanning’s lungs. Yet even this has changed. Taxian-jun is as domineering as ever, his tongue pressing into Chu Wanning’s mouth as it seeks to conquer him. But there is an odd taste to Taxian-jun now, as if he has been permeated with the scent of fresh vegetation following rain. It is strangely soothing, and Chu Wanning falls into the kiss with no hope of return.
Taxian-jun finally pulls back, then drags Chu Wanning to the bed, shedding the last of their clothing on the way over. Cold air flits against Chu Wanning’s skin, but he has no attention left for that. (He can only be grateful on behalf of his ailing body that Taxian-jun has decided not to fuck him on the hard floor.)
Yet now that all of Taxian-jun’s body is revealed, the oddities are even more clear. Chu Wanning is usually eager to look at anything but Taxian-jun’s cock, that beastly thing that has invaded him far too many times, but now he cannot look away. The vines wrap even around here, verdant strands replacing veins on its surface. And at the head of his cock now rests something resembling a furled bud, or perhaps a seedpod, its head veiled in green.
Chu Wanning reaches out to touch it, only to jerk his hand back when he realizes what he is doing. But even that motion, devoid of any contact, is enough to make Taxian-jun’s cock harden further. The vines twitch along its length, wrapping around it as if they were always meant to be there.
Taxian-jun smirks. “Don’t be shy. It isn’t as if you haven’t held my cock before.” He reaches out and grabs Chu Wanning’s hand, pulling it back until Chu Wanning has no choice but to touch Taxian-jun’s cock. It is still hot and hard, yet that twining greenery pulses along its length, almost yet not quite something Chu Wanning is familiar with.
Chu Wanning frowns at him, though he fears the effect is ruined by his lack of clothing. He tries to pull his hand back, but Taxian-jun does not allow this freedom. “It’s never looked like this!”
“Whatever this is, I’m taking you with me, Wanning.” Taxian-jun’s words are oddly earnest even as they resound cruelly through the room.
“Don’t you dare—” But Taxian-jun has always dared what ordinary men would never approach.
Taxian-jun wastes no further time. He pulls apart Chu Wanning’s legs, then presses his fingers to Chu Wanning’s cunt, spreading it open. There has been so little preparation, yet Chu Wanning is already wet, his body too well trained to respond to Taxian-jun’s proximity.
When Taxian-jun pushes his cock into Chu Wanning’s body, it feels larger than before. Chu Wanning grits his teeth, hands fisting the sheets beneath him. He doesn’t want to see, yet he cannot look away. He watches as that vine wrapped cock slides into him, its odd protrusions all disappearing as it sinks into him. A whimper escapes his throat, a lost sound of horror and irresistible desire that Taxian-jun coaxes from him.
And then there is no more space for thought, only the heat and pressure of Taxian-jun using his body. Each thrust rushes deeper than the last, as if Taxian-jun is trying to meld them together through this strange growth. And Chu Wanning is not immune. He has never been able to be truly immune to Taxian-jun, no matter how he wished otherwise.
Chu Wanning loses track of time as Taxian-jun fucks him, his body consumed by heat and desire he cannot ever admit to wanting. Taxian-jun coaxes a climax from him, and Chu Wanning cannot resist, as he has never been able to resist, falling into that burning sea of arousal that flames so easily between them, no matter the hurt they have dealt one another.
Finally Taxian-jun stills, his cock buried deep in Chu Wanning’s body. Yet even as he holds still, Chu Wanning can feel something pushing deeper, unfurling within him. And now Chu Wanning begins to panic. This is not right. This is not how things are supposed to go. He tries to wriggle away, but Taxian-jun holds him steady, allowing no escape.
“Take it,” Taxian-jun says, an odd light in his eyes. “Take all of it.”
Pain shudders through Chu Wanning, as if something has pushed far, far too deep into him. Yet it is overlain with pleasure, his body warm and limp in Taxian-jun’s grasp. He wants to pull away, but it is much too late for that. It has been too late for a long, long time.
And Taxian-jun comes. But it is no ordinary orgasm. It is as if it is filling Chu Wanning to the brim, yet it does no stop. The vines beneath Taxian-jun’s skin pulse with odd flickers, as if something is traveling down its length. And all of it centers on where he is pushed into Chu Wanning.
It feels as if something is being forced into Chu Wanning. Something foreign and dangerous, yet also, somehow, part of Taxian-jun. It fills him with a sticky warmth, too much and too deep yet impossible to escape. Chu Wanning can only shudder in numb acceptance as he is filled, sweet pleasure mingling with uncomfortable fullness as something is pushed into the very depths of him.
Above him, a grimace crosses Taxian-jun’s face as well. “Shizun,” he says, his voice too like a whimper, the old honorific emerging as he presses his face to Chu Wanning’s shoulder and clings. “Shizun, what’s happening to me?”
And for once, Chu Wanning wishes he had an answer for Taxian-jun. For Mo Ran. But it has been so long since he has had the answers to anything. He feels now more like a piece of driftwood swept along in the ocean’s ceaseless waves, doomed to be worn down with no control over his own destiny. Useless. Pathetic.
With a sigh, Chu Wanning wraps his arms around Taxian-jun’s shoulders and holds him close. Their bodies are still linked, Taxian-jun’s cock wedged too deep within Chu Wanning. It feels almost as if these vines beneath Taxian-jun’s skin are binding them together, leaving them incapable of ever being separated again. Chu Wanning should probably hate this feeling.
(He finds, oddly, that he does not.)
After all these years in Taxian-jun’s bed, Chu Wanning had long since assumed his body was incapable of carrying a child. For surely, if it were possible, it would have happened long ago. Taxian-jun had certainly been eager in his attempts, and Chu Wanning was helpless to prevent him.
Yet month after month, year after year, no child ever appeared. It is better this way. No child deserves to be born into Taxian-jun’s clutches, no matter the disappointment in his eyes when he realizes that the seed he fills Chu Wanning with will never bear fruit. And Chu Wanning himself has already failed so miserably as a shizun, so he could only fail worse as a father.
And so, for weeks, he does not realize what has happened.
He feels ill and irritable, but he is always ill and irritable. He gains weight, but that can be attributed to the fact that Taxian-jun is in a good mood and keeps ordering Chu Wanning to eat dinner with him.
At night, Taxian-jun comes to Chu Wanning’s bed. The vines continue to writhe under his skin, strange and beautiful and dangerous. While Taxian-jun is asleep, Chu Wanning tries to probe them, but he can discover nothing beyond the fact that they seem to share a similar composition to the Flower of Eightfold Sorrows. They do not seem to be causing harm, yet, but the Flower of Eightfold Sorrows was insidious and slow in its work, and Chu Wanning fears this will just be yet another new drawn out torment.
It is Taxian-jun who notices, intimately familiar with every inch of Chu Wanning’s body as he is. After they fuck, his hand, now also shot through with fluttering green vines, trails over the subtle curve of Chu Wanning’s stomach.
“Wanning,” Taxian-jun says, an odd hesitance in his voice, “Are you… Are you pregnant?”
Chu Wanning frowns at him. “Don’t talk nonsense.”
“Look,” Taxian-jun says. He grabs one of Chu Wanning’s hands and places it together with his own on Chu Wanning’s stomach. “You’ve never been this round before.”
A flush rises hot on Chu Wanning’s face at those words, and his frown deepens. He has never liked paying particularly close attention to his body, but now that he does, he cannot deny that there is something odd about it now.
“Impossible,” he says. But even as he says the word, he already suspects he might be fighting a losing battle. It is, perhaps, only that he wishes it were impossible. How can this body, after all that it has endured, still be capable of carrying a child? Never mind that he’s already forty years old. He is far too old and far too weak to be getting with child now.
But something gleeful and bright fills Taxian-jun’s face, a smile spreading wide across his lips. It’s almost painfully reminiscent of the youthful and innocent Mo Ran of years ago. “I finally got you,” he says, pressing his head to Chu Wanning’s stomach.
Chu Wanning shudders, his mind in turmoil. It seems absurd that there could possibly be a life growing within him. And a life that was formed from this absurd entanglement between himself and Taxian-jun, at that. He doesn’t know what to feel. He still hopes this is a false alarm. Yet that strangely soft expression, so out of place on Taxian-jun’s usually harsh face, causes something to flutter in his heart all the same.
If this is a child, there is something distinctly wrong with it.
Chu Wanning’s body expands far too rapidly, his stomach swelling to full roundness within only a few months. There is certainly something inside of him, something alive and growing that has decided to make its home within Chu Wanning.
Taxian-jun rustles as he walks now, leaves poking through his skin. Chu Wanning tries to ignore this as well. There is nothing he can do to fix it. He has enough trouble finding the energy for his own daily life with this thing growing within him.
Yet despite the strangeness, Taxian-jun is obsessed. As if all prior hatred is forgotten, he pampers Chu Wanning as best he knows how, staying glued to Chu Wanning’s side as much as he can. He fucks Chu Wanning with fresh enthusiasm, his hands wrapped delightedly around Chu Wanning’s swelling belly.
Chu Wanning does not know how to handle this version of Taxian-jun. He smiles. He laughs. He is still not particularly kind, still prone to fits of anger, and his habitual cruelties are not completely gone. Yet there is an unmistakable shift in his demeanor from the Taxian-jun that Chu Wanning had thought he knew. And the way he treats Chu Wanning now is so horribly tempting. It makes Chu Wanning yearn for a life he cannot have, where Mo Ran’s innocence was never destroyed by the Flower of Eightfold Sorrows, where maybe, just maybe, they could have had joy instead of grief.
This must all be temporary. It cannot end well. When this thing is born, or expelled, or whatever it requires, surely Taxian-jun’s attention will once again turn to brutality. Yet still Chu Wanning finds himself drawing pathetic comfort from this illusion of happiness. He knows he should keep thinking of Taxian-jun as a monster, the disciple he failed forever lost. Yet with each passing day, and each smile Taxian-jun gives him, that becomes harder to do.
Soon Chu Wanning feels fit to burst. Each step he takes is awkward, his stomach heavy, unbalancing him. Each breath feels as if he cannot fill his lungs. Everything aches. He wants this thing inside of him out.
(And if afterwards Taxian-jun will go back to his cruel treatment of Chu Wanning, at least he is used to that. This interlude seems like nothing but a dream, albeit one interspersed with bodily discomfort. He will be fine if things go back to how they were before. He’s certain he will be fine. He will returns to his research into the Flower of Eightfold Sorrows and pretend he never knew what it was to once again experience Mo Ran’s kindness.)
And finally, something within him gives.
It hurts, pain searing through him as this thing inside him tries to seek freedom. Yet through it all, Taxian-jun sits beside him, holding him. Chu Wanning yells at Taxian-jun. This is all his fault. He put this thing that is causing all this agony in Chu Wanning. But Taxian-jun simply sits and accepts this anger, almost as if he is good natured.
Chu Wanning loses track of time, loses track of his surroundings, loses track of everything except the burning pain of something far too large trying to force its way out. But he can endure. He has already known so much pain in his life. He has felt what it is like to cut open his chest. He has felt what it is like to have his core shattered. (He has felt what it is like to have his heart broken, stomped to paste beneath Taxian-jun’s feet.)
Yet finally, the thing emerges. Chu Wanning lies panting, sweating and body still racked with pain. Yet Taxian-jun is still beside him, holding his hand in a vine striped one.
And before him, instead of a child, is… an orb? It is vaguely oval and brown, its surface smooth and covered in delicate leaflike patterns. Like an egg, or perhaps a seedpod. Chu Wanning frowns. He had already feared what grew within him was no child, but what is this?
“What did you do to me?” Chu Wanning asks Taxian-jun. But Taxian-jun just shrugs, his expression also one of bafflement.
Yet Taxian-jun reaches for the thing all the same, taking it into his arms. And once he touches it, it is as if the vines in his body come alive, darting forward to wrap around the… egg? Chu Wanning cannot think of anything else to call it.
Taxian-jun gasps, his expression changing just enough for Chu Wanning to recognize pain. But he does not let go of the thing in his arms. The vines that have infested his body for all these months seem to take on a life of their own, crawling out of him, leaving his skin the pale white it once was.
And then the egg shakes. A seam opens up along its circumference where the vines have wrapped.
Chu Wanning cannot help but watch it intensely, anticipation fluttering within him. He does not know what this is or what is about to happen, but it came from within his body, and he cannot look away.
Finally it pulls open, revealing its contents.
Within is, in fact, a human looking baby. Not a particularly attractive one, Chu Wanning thinks in annoyance, wrinkled and red faced with barely a wisp of hair upon its head. But it cannot be entirely human; along its limbs dance traces of greenery, merged far more perfectly than the ones that have now fled Taxian-jun.
And then the baby cries out, raising a tiny hand. Chu Wanning, in a daze, reaches forward to grasp it. At the same time, Taxian-jun reaches out as well. Their hands, so much larger, meet around this tiny child.
“Mo Ran…” Chu Wanning cannot keep the awe from his voice. “What have we made?”
“I don’t know.” Taxian-jun shrugs, clearly having no more answers than Chu Wanning. Yet he holds the child with such delicacy in its nest of vines. And there is a something about him that already seems different, as if the vines dropping from his body have changed him yet again. “But we made it.” And now he smiles, painfully sweet.
Chu Wanning cannot help smiling back. His body still aches, but there is a strange joy surging through him. They have a child now, it seems. Whether it will grow into a normal human or not remains to be seen. But, somehow, it exists, regardless of its impossibility.
And now the vines that slithered through Taxian-jun’s body are gone as well. Chu Wanning does not know what that means for the Flower of Eightfold Sorrows, but as he extends a tentative thread of energy, he can no longer sense its presence either.
Perhaps this will only end in tears. Perhaps this is only the start of yet another tragedy. Yet Chu Wanning finds that, for the first time in a very long time, there is hope blooming brilliant within his chest.