Futile Devices Scans

“Sigh…”

“What are you grumbling about?”

The new moon hung aloof at the edge of the sky like a distant golden hook beyond reach. The stars were scattered in fragments, and beneath the eaves, lanterns diffused great blooms of lingering warm yellow light into the spring night breeze. Under the osmanthus tree in the central courtyard stood two reclining chairs and a low table, laden with an abundant spread of dishes, pastries, and fresh fruit, accompanied by Wei Fu’s “dowry wine.” Having been stored for many years, it had turned a rich amber color, and when poured into snow-white porcelain cups, it looked like a bowl of pungent medicinal decoction.

If this had really been intended as the ceremonial wine for a wedding toast, one had to wonder which of the newlyweds it was meant to knock unconscious. In any case, Yu Gong Zhao Ye had no fortune to enjoy it. After a single cup, he promptly defected and switched to the peach yeast wine Wei Rong had bought from a distillery.

When he was not out slaughtering people and stirring up storms, his daily life was little different from that of an ascetic monk. He neither drank nor indulged in pleasures of the flesh, so his alcohol tolerance was quite average. Even the peach yeast wine, sweet as water, was more than he could comfortably handle. By contrast, Wei Fu, despite his young age, was an old hand in official circles and could drink an astonishing amount. Then again, to be honest, his mental state was such that whether he had been drinking or not hardly made any difference.

“A little jealous…”

“Of whom?”

“Xie You Lan.”

Wei Fu pretended to be admiring the heavens, but in truth he was secretly peeking at Yu Gong Zhao Ye from the corner of his eye, while still believing he was being subtle about it. “He was willing to fall out with his own brother over the Earth Mirror Map, but the moment Sect Master Cheng showed up, he abandoned the Earth Mirror Map without a second thought.”

“‘For a smile, he’d gladly cast aside a thousand pieces of gold.’” He sighed meaningfully. “I’d really like to live that freely just once.”

The implication was practically written across his face. How could Yu Gong Zhao Ye fail to understand what he meant? He thought to himself that Wei Fu had abandoned the prestigious position of a trusted minister of Xiling and come all the way to Longsha to become a thankless regent. Was that somehow a model of mature and rational decision-making?

“The Earth Mirror Map was never his to begin with. At most, what Xie You Lan did could be called ‘giving up halfway.’” Yu Gong Zhao Ye said blandly, “Besides, if Cheng Yu didn’t feel the same way, it wouldn’t matter even if he abandoned the entire Beizhu Palace.”

A small moth beat its wings through the darkness, thumping repeatedly against the bright, warm paper lantern. It had no idea how destructive the blazing light hidden inside that fragile shell truly was, how it could consume everything it possessed. It merely followed its most instinctive desire, hurling itself again and again toward that thin layer of paper, delicate as cicada wings.

Believing that breaking through the barrier would bring fulfillment, never realizing it was only wishful thinking carrying it headlong into the firepit of fate.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

Wei Fu simply rolled over on the reclining chair, resting his face on the back of his hand so that only a pair of hazy peach blossom eyes remained visible. Muttering under his breath, he asked, “Do you feel that way?”

“…”

Not only did Yu Gong Zhao Ye refuse to answer directly, he did not even turn to face him. Yet his profile, half-hidden within the shadows beneath the osmanthus tree, still possessed a sharp, solitary beauty. Backlit by the lantern glow, every detail—from his long, thick eyelashes to the bridge of his nose, straight and proud as a mountain ridge—stood out with startling clarity.

Bored and unable to keep his hands to himself, Wei Fu reached out and hooked a small lock of the cloudlike hair draped over Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s shoulder, winding it around his fingertip.

He watched Yu Gong Zhao Ye in silence, like a devout believer gazing up at a cold yet merciful deity carved into a cave wall. It was as though an invisible chisel were engraving this man’s silhouette, stroke by stroke, directly into his pupils.

Yu Gong Zhao Ye glanced down at the little trick he was playing, then returned his gaze to the lantern swaying gently in the wind. His voice was neither loud nor soft, devoid of emotion, as impenetrable as tempered steel.

“Don’t imitate your brother. Xie You Lan commands the entire Beizhu Palace. Giving up an Earth Mirror Map that never belonged to him in the first place is nothing more than throwing away a piece of meat he couldn’t eat. It doesn’t damage his foundation. You’re different.”

Wei Fu laughed softly. “Because I’m the poor kid who can’t afford to gamble on someone’s sincerity?”

At last, Yu Gong Zhao Ye turned and shot him a look. “You’re looking for trouble, aren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t dare.” Feeling his heartbeat growing increasingly frantic, Wei Fu said softly, “A’Ying, it isn’t that I insist on copying him. When you like someone, this is simply what it’s like.”

The haze of alcohol blurred away all the distracting thoughts that branched and wandered in every direction, leaving his mind unexpectedly clear. His heart finally shattered the last layer of ice laid down by the moonlight and flowed openly through the night, unobstructed and unhidden. Words that he had previously only dared to mutter in private to Wei Rong now slipped naturally from his lips.

“To me, you are more precious than my life, more precious than anything else in this world. There is nothing I would not give up for you.”

“From the very first moment I met you, I have liked you very, very much.”

The soft strand of hair wound around his finger formed a loop, and for a moment it felt as though countless threads had wrapped tightly around his heart, squeezing until it ached.

Wei Fu’s brilliant memory, capable of remembering anything at a glance, became like water rippling beneath the wind—a vast, blank expanse of white. Forget remembering anything; he was on the verge of forgetting who he was. All he could do was stare blankly as the fleeting surprise in Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s eyes gradually deepened. Then, as if he had noticed something, one eyebrow lifted suddenly. The solemn heaviness on his face dissolved like clouds parting before the moon, transforming into the familiar expression Wei Fu knew so well: gentle helplessness.

That face—clean and flawless as carved jade, yet warmer than jade itself—moved closer, enlarged, and stopped at a distance intimate enough to feel dangerous.

The dry, callused fingertips of a swordsman lightly brushed beneath his eye. Moisture spread where they touched, bringing with it a strange numbness amidst the dampness. Even his sigh was soft.

“That’s not how it works. You’re trying to confess your feelings, and you’ve already cried before I’ve even answered.”

Huh? Am I crying?

The moment Wei Fu blinked, a large tear rolled down and landed on Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s fingertip.

So this was what the word like truly was—a spell powerful enough to split mountains and crack stone. Merely speaking those two words felt like a hurricane sweeping through him, tearing away every last thing he had once considered solid: his reason, his composure, his identity, his dignity. All that remained was a naked, unguarded heart, completely defenseless and waiting for someone to do with it as they pleased.

There was no turning back after jumping from a cliff. Whether someone caught him or whether he shattered into pieces upon impact was no longer up to him.

Before Yu Gong Zhao Ye had even responded, the single word like had already reduced Wei Fu’s three souls and seven spirits to mush. He looked like a fox spirit that had surrendered itself willingly, waiting for the demon-subduing staff to come crashing down, eyes red as he gazed at the human he loved.

“So wronged…”

Yu Gong Zhao Ye used the fingertip that had caught that salty tear to dab it onto the trembling peak of Wei Fu’s lip. For once, he neither avoided the subject nor changed it. His voice was so gentle it was almost coaxing.

“Have you been doing something behind my back?”

In that instant, it felt as though thunder had exploded somewhere beyond the mortal world, like a great bell ringing through the vast heavens and earth. Wei Fu’s entire mind shook. He was like some small animal caught red-handed doing something naughty by its owner, startled out of its wits and guilty beyond measure.

Yet when he came back to himself, it was only a spring night. A soft warm breeze drifted through the courtyard. The moon shone down from high among the treetops. There was no thunder, no lightning, no demons or monsters.

There was only a Yu Gong Zhao Ye whose face practically said, I knew it.

Wei Fu: “…No.”

Yu Gong Zhao Ye: “Then that means yes.”

The moment Wei Fu had said, “There’s nothing I can’t give up,” alarm bells had begun screaming in Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s head. He would not claim to be especially perceptive regarding other people’s emotions, but he understood Wei Fu fairly well. He did not know exactly what Wei Fu had done, but he was certain he had done something.

Because that enormous life-saving debt always hung over them, Wei Fu had always shown a tendency to yield first in front of him. For the sake of concerns both of them understood perfectly well, he would temporarily restrain his true feelings. Faced with the boundaries Yu Gong Zhao Ye had drawn, he only dared to blur or circumvent them through teasing remarks and ambiguous jokes.

One could only speak of “giving something up” if one first possessed it. The confidence behind Wei Fu’s words had not appeared from nowhere. Otherwise, outside Yinhe Tower that day, he would have torn away that layer of unspoken probing and told him outright, as he was doing now, I like you, instead of obediently accepting his deliberate avoidance.

During the time Yu Gong Zhao Ye had been away from Bihan City, what exactly had Wei Fu gotten up to behind his back?

Anything pushed too far would bite, and Wei Fu was no exception. As though terrified Yu Gong Zhao Ye might start settling accounts with him, he leapt up before the man could utter another word and swiftly covered his mouth with a kiss.

The lips he had coveted for so long were neither prickly nor poisonous. At first they were soft and faintly warm, harmlessly allowing him to kiss them. Only when their limbs and bodies pressed tightly together did he instinctively begin learning how to suck and nibble at them. Then the heat became like sparks falling into strong liquor, exploding from deep within his chest and racing through his blood and meridians until his entire body burned.

It felt like falling into a lucid dream.

Yu Gong Zhao Ye had never been so passive in his life. He was pressed into an embrace and kneaded back and forth, treated like a delectable confection to be sampled repeatedly, swept along by a tide he could not control. He could not tell whether the dizziness came from too much wine or too little air. Or perhaps he simply did not want to escape at all.

He had so many concerns. He had hesitated again and again for the sake of future happiness and future pain. Yet the moment Wei Fu kissed him, the sky had not fallen.

Life was full of long regrets and precious little joy. How many unforgettable moments could a person truly possess? How many instances of unrestrained abandon? Even after being washed and worn away by the unpredictability of life and the merciless passage of time, those moments still gleamed at the farthest edge of memory.

At the end of one’s life, how many careful calculations and thoughtful deliberations would anyone still remember? In the end, was there anything left besides love that carved itself into the bones and hatred that pierced straight through them?

Their lips parted. Their noses brushed together intimately. Both of them breathed a little harder.

Wei Fu carefully threaded his fingers between Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s, locking them together. One knee braced against the reclining chair as he leaned over him, enclosing him beneath his shadow. He gazed at him with a look so open, so nearly reckless, that it contained not the slightest concealment. The affection in those eyes was hot enough to burn, yet sweet and rich as honey, sticky enough to leave a person unable to move.

“A’Ying… could you like me too? Only like me?”

He bent down. His eyelashes brushed Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s cheekbones. Every few words, he stole another kiss, pecking from ear tip to cheek, lingering just above those faintly tensed lips as he coaxed softly:

“You only have to nod…”

If you nodded and gave your consent, I would offer you everything I possess and willingly burn to ashes in the flames.

Yu Gong Zhao Ye tilted his head upward. His lips happened to catch Wei Fu’s trembling ones, producing a crisp sound that was almost embarrassingly loud.

Chu.

“I’ve been lying here letting you do whatever you want for half the night already. If that isn’t liking you, then what is?”

The scorching heat between them immediately tangled together again. After that brief restraint, desire surged wildly, demanding more and more of the sweetness hidden between lips and teeth. Their feelings spread like wildfire across a prairie, igniting desires that had slumbered for far too long.

The lantern paper looked as thin as cicada wings, yet it proved surprisingly sturdy and impossible for the wind to tear. After failing again and again, the little moth had vanished somewhere into the night. Meanwhile, a certain expert at causing trouble had already undone Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s waist sash and both leather belts.

With one hand, Yu Gong Zhao Ye brushed aside the loose strands of hair falling across his face. At last the lantern light found a gap through which to spill. It swept across the flushed corners of his eyes and the tiny mole half-hidden against his pale neck. His amber eyes lingered beneath half-lowered lids. His abundant dark hair spread across the back of the chair like silk, lending him an indescribable languor, like a lion roused from sleep.

The moment he raised his head, he could see a foreign moon hanging among the branches overhead. For no reason at all, heat spread across his face. He lightly nudged Wei Fu’s calf with his foot.

“Do we really have to do something this shameless out in the courtyard? Find somewhere else.”

Wei Fu stared into the crescent moon and scattered stars reflected in his eyes. One hand held that supple, lean waist while his shoulders and back formed a shelter above him. His long hair fell like curtains, hiding his moon completely within his embrace.

“It’s fine. I’ll block everything out. The stars, the moon, heaven and earth, gods and spirits—none of them will see you.”

Following the trail of his mark, he lowered his head and gently kissed that patch of pale skin like fresh snow.

“A’Ying… come hide here with me.”

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