Chu Wanning Quotes

When Shi Mei died, Mo Weiyu disappeared from the world. And when Chu Wanning died......? Mo Ran didn't know. All he knew was the feeling of the person in his arms slowly growing colder and colder on that day. He didn't cry, nor did he laugh; joy and sorrow both grew out of reach. When Chu Wanning died, Mo Weiyu no longer knew what the world even was anymore.

Where there was Shizun, there was light. Where there was Chu Wanning, there was a flame. He looked up evenly at Mo Ran from where he stood by the candle holder with his long eyelashes downcast, and gave him a small, serene smile. He said, "Go back to sleep, Mo Ran. See, the light is lit now. Don't be afraid

It wasn't that he didn't care for those around him, only that he did it quietly. Such solitude, day after day, without anyone to see or notice, was also a kind of torment.

He saw his God crying, Chu Wanning... he was crying.

Chu Wanning had spent two-and-a-half million… On sweets…

How could he have guessed that Chu Wanning was actually so kind to him… That Chu Wanning’s lingering regret in the living world was him.

If you don’t know how to save others, how will you save yourself?

Unconsciously, Mo Ran had been looking for Chu Wanning's shadow in the world; unable to find him, he had instead slowly become him.

Chu Wanning! You think you’re so tough?! Watch me fuck you to death!

Chu Wanning! This venerable one wasn’t wrong to treat you the way he did in his previous life! Even after coming back to life, the mere sight of you is still aggravating! Fuck all eighteen generations of your ancestors! Chu Wanning was unaware that his beast of a disciple was going to fuck all eighteen generations of his ancestors.

In fact, the little things that Chu Wanning had given him, even though they were very little, were all that he had left.

Chu Wanning held him, caressing his hair as if still in a dream, and sighed softly once more. "Did you know the most wonderful dreams are rarely ever true?" Then he pulled away, the hug swiftly finished, like the light touch of a dragonfly on water.

So what if you have money?” Chu Wanning snarled. “Does money allow you to flip right and wrong, to repay kindness with cruelty? Does money let you do whatever you want and break all your promises?

Chu Wanning was struck utterly speechless. He opened his eyes, and the blood that had been frozen in his veins began to circulate again. For a while, he didn’t know what to say as he stared silently at Mo Weiyu, who stood by the bed with a complicated expression. Then, slowly, a clear verdict formed in Chu Wanning’s gaze: Moron.

He murmured, “Three thousand, seven hundred and ninety-nine.” He had counted as he walked. That was the number of steps up to the main gate, the number of steps that Chu Wanning had climbed that day, carrying him on his back. He was certain that for as long as he lived, he would never forget Chu Wanning’s hands, cold as ice, chafed raw and bloody.

Later on, every daybreak was golden like Chu Wanning's soul. Every nightfall was dark like Chu Wanning's eyes. Later on, every beam of white moonlight was like the snow on his sleeves, every rising sun was like the warmth in his eyes. Later on, he'd seen Chu Wanning's silhouette in the vermillion clouds by the horizon, in the cerulean light of dawn, in the surging, billowing clouds. He was everywhere.

Chu Wanning’s thick curtain of lashes swept downward. “I like it,” he repeated quietly. “No one’s ever taken care of me like this before.” He lifted his eyes to glance at Mo Ran. When he spoke again, it was earnestly: “Thank you very much, Shixiong.

His heart raced in his chest, and his palms were covered with sweat, humiliated by his loss of self-control. He really had been alone for too long, if he could mistake a tiny sliver of kindness and care from someone for sincere tenderness. Like an idiot.

Fucking Chu Wanning.

Where his shizun was, there was a flame. Where Chu Wanning was, there was light.

In that moment, even if his chest were to be torn open, and his heart ripped out, veins, flesh, and all, it could not hurt as much as this. He saw Chu Wanning’s hands—raw and bloody from crawling up more than three thousand steps carrying him when he was still alive, he saw those hands slowly feeling along the table. On that table sat flour, seasoning, and mincemeat filling. And next to the table was a pot heating up water. The water was already boiling, but Chu Wanning, the dummy, didn’t even know to lower the flames a little, and the thick covering of steam made everything look hazy and blurry… (...) Mo Ran wished he could cut open his own chest and give him his heart, just to hear his heartbeat again. He wished he could drain his own blood to fill his veins, just to see color on his face again.

Mo Ran trembled and used all his strength to raise his head. He saw his God riding the dragon, swooping down from the sky. He saw the white clothes of his God, looking like an immortal exiled. As he got closer, the face next to the soaring dragon horn became clear . Mo Ran's heart suddenly hurt, and it was even more painful than being stabbed by a knife. He saw his God crying, Chu Wanning...he was crying .

Reckless affection and passionate, obsessive entanglements, these things only grew in the soil of youth. When Chu Wanning was young, he’d also hoped there might be someone who would stay by his side, with whom he might share wine beneath the moon, but he’d waited and waited, and still this person had never arrived.

It was I who wronged you. I won’t blame you, in life or in death.

Did you know the most wonderful dreams are rarely ever real?

Especially for Chu Wanning, it was as if an entire jar of vinegar had toppled over inside his chest, the sour taste of jealousy swelling without stop, getting under his skin. Sorry? How do you write sorry? Someone more apologetic, please teach him.

Ever since, holding onto the resentment he felt that grew by the day, he'd kept provoking Chu Wanning in attempts to get his attention, his praise, his astonishment. During that time, if Shi Mei had praised him with "well done", he would've flown into the sky with happiness. But if Chu Wanning had been willing to give him a "not bad", he would've gladly given his life.

No one in the world knows the real you; that you were good, that you were innocent. They do not know that you were troubled by the rain to save little earthworms, that you were filled with smiles for blooming lotuses. Everyone in the world resents you for being cold-blooded, but they don’t know that you once shyly scratched your head and said, 'I… I don’t have much ability. If I have some spare money in the future, I should build more houses and settle down with people who live in the same condition as I was before.' Everyone hates you for killing and slaughtering, but they don’t know that you had told me before, 'Shizun, I want a holy weapon that is like Tianwen. It can distinguish between black and white, and can save lives.' Everyone was cursing you, they want to punish you. I know the truth, but I can’t give you back your dignity.

Chu Wanning didn’t believe in love, nor in chance encounters, and he certainly didn’t want to go chasing after any such thing. If he were to arduously gnaw through the cocoon, getting cut and scraped all over in the process, and come crawling clumsily out only to find no one waiting for him on the other side—what would he do?

Next, use your left hand and pat at your right sleeve,” Chu Wanning instructed him expressionlessly. “Ooh, this action is deep and indiscernible. What move is this?” “Nothing deep and indiscernible about it,” Chu Wanning said flatly. “You were swinging too confidently earlier, and the weapon lit your sleeve on fire, that’s all.

Why wouldn’t I dare?” Chu Wanning gazed at her, unimpressed. “What ought I be afraid of?” He paused, then pulled Mo Ran closer. “Listen up: This person is mine. I’m taking him.

A lone Taxian-Jun, with no one to turn to, in an endless darkness he could barely breathe, holding Chu Wanning tightly in his arms as if he was holding the last embers of fire in this world.

Mo Ran, why is your face so cold…' It was as cold as ice. If I could, I would like to be a torch, waiting for you to turn back at the crossroads of the long winter night. I’m willing to burn my entire life away to light your path home. But why are you so cold? I don’t know how long I can burn, but what if when I’m exhausted and burnt out, and if when I’m extinguished, you still walk in the dark and refuse to look back?

Shizun visits my dreams, for he knows I think of him often.' When Mo Ran had high fever, he dreamt that Chu Wanning brought him a spark of flame in a cold dark night. Mo Ran said 'where his shizun was, there was a flame. Where Chu Wanning was, there was light.

Chu Wanning wasn’t stupid. Even if Mo Ran didn’t say anything, it was easy to see just how much he treasured the gentle and beautiful person beside him. Why would Mo Ran ever turn his gaze toward Chu Wanning, who stood in the corner like a puppet covered in dust?

But that person’s warmth and tenderness were bestowed upon others while the only things offered to him were barbs and thorns. So although Chu Wanning held him in his heart, whenever that person moved, his heart would start to bleed. Day after day, new wounds appeared before the old ones had a chance to heal.

From his dim and narrow perspective, Chu Wanning was like a plate of savory and aromatic crispy meat that had been placed into a filthy, broken box. Mo Ran was the only person in the entire world who had opened the box and been able to taste the deliciousness inside. He’d never had to worry about someone else finding out about this delicacy and drooling over it.

Hands full of sweet potato, Chu Wanning opened his mouth without a second thought; it wasn’t until Mo Ran had popped the warm, soft milk candy onto his tongue, the coarse pad of his thumb brushing lightly past the corner of his lips, that Chu Wanning abruptly realized that he had eaten a sweet right out of his own disciple’s hand. The tips of his ears grew bright red.

So Mo Ran endured it, and forced himself to pick up the pieces. He told himself, It doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t hurt. This wasn’t the first time he’d lived through Chu Wanning’s death. It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt… But how could it not hurt? Over three thousand steps Chu Wanning had crawled, carrying him on his back—how could it not hurt… He’d drained his very last reserves of spiritual energy, he’d given it all to Mo Ran, how could it not hurt… He had suffered an identical injury, but so as not to burden his disciple, he had adopted a heartless expression and left on his own. How could it not hurt… And in the past life, Chu Wanning had also suffered the same injury as Shi Mei. It was just that he hadn’t said anything about it. He hadn’t said, and Mo Ran hadn’t asked. He’d roared angrily at Chu Wanning, vented endless hatred on him, flung to the ground those wontons Chu Wanning, who had yet to recover from his own injuries, had worked so hard to make for him. Before his eyes, Chu Wanning had bent down, lowered his head, and then, one by one, had picked up each wonton and thrown them away. How could it not hurt… How could it not have hurt?! He had dug out Chu Wanning’s heart! How could it have not hurt?! How could it… Mo Ran couldn’t take a step further. He stood in place for a long spell, trying to suppress these feelings, trying to rescue his calm. His entire body trembled. It hurt. He buried his face in his hands, bit down on his lip, and swallowed his sobs with the blood.

A great tree like this didn’t have branches that quivered like flowers, stirring affection in people’s hearts, nor did it sway with the wind like strings of vines, seductive and enticing. He only stood there in silence and severity, very steady and dependable, blocking wind and rain for the passersby without a word, allowing those under the tree to hide from the scorching sun. Perhaps it was because he’d grown too tall, too luxuriant, that people had to intentionally look up before they’d discover——Ah, so this gentle shade had been bestowed by him. But all those travelers going to and fro, not one of them had looked up, and not one of them had ever noticed him. After all, people’s lines of sight were habitually aimed at places lower than themselves, or at eye level at most.

tao k’o tao, fei ch’ang tao. ming k’o ming, fei ch’ang ming. wu, ming t’ien ti chih shih. yu, ming wan wu chih mu. ku ch’ang wu, yü yi kuan ch’i miao. ch’ang yu, yü yi kuan ch’i chiao. tz’u liang chê, t’ung ch’u erh yi ming. t’ung wei chih hsüan. hsüan chih yu hsüan. chung miao chih mên.

Mo Ran only let the bestial savagery in his eyes slip for a moment, but Chu Wanning caught a glimpse of it. He glanced at Mo Ran’s face, his own graceful, scholarly mien completely devoid of expression. “What are you thinking about?” Shit! Tianwen hadn’t yet been withdrawn! Mo Ran once again felt the vine binding him squeeze and twist, making his organs feel like they were going to wrench into mush. He screamed in agony, letting loose the thoughts in his mind. “Chu Wanning! You think you’re so tough?! Watch me fuck you to death !” Silence fell. Chu Wanning was speechless. Even Xue Meng was dumbfounded. Tianwen abruptly returned to Chu Wanning’s palm, transforming into specks of golden light before eventually disappearing out of sight. Tianwen manifested from Chu Wanning’s essence, and it could appear when summoned and disappear at will. Xue Meng’s face was pale as he stammered, “Sh-Sh-Shizun…” Chu Wanning didn’t speak. His long, inky, delicate lashes were lowered as he looked at his own palm for a long moment. Then he raised his eyes, face unmoved other than for how it had become slightly icier than before. For a long moment, he pinned Mo Ran with a glare that said, “This beastly disciple deserves death.” Then he spoke, voice low: “Tianwen is broken. I’m going to fix it.” After dropping this statement, Chu Wanning turned and left. Xue Meng wasn’t a bright child. “H-how can a holy weapon like Tianwen be broken?” Chu Wanning heard him. He turned and once again used that “this beastly disciple deserves death” gaze to glance at him. Xue Meng felt a chill run down his spine.

Mo Ran walked briskly through the rain, ran through the rain, fled through the rain, hid in the rain from the thirty-two nonsensical years of his past life. He didn’t know if the torrential rain could wash away his sins; Chu Wanning had forgiven him, but he had not forgiven himself. His heart felt heavy, so heavy that he might suffocate from it. He wanted to use the rest of his life to do good, to make amends. But could the downpour in the rest of his life truly wash away the evil in his bones, the filth in his blood? He wished only that this rain could fall for five years straight. He wished only that, when Chu Wanning awakened, he would be able to stand before his shizun a little cleaner, and then cleaner still.

Te odio, Chu WanNing. Realmente te odio mucho... pero, eres todo lo que me queda" -Mo Ran

Te odio, Chu WanNing. Realmente te odio mucho... pero, eres todo lo que me queda" -Mo Ran-

Mo Ran lay on the ground, half-dead, his expression lifeless. Earlier, he really had been thinking about finding a chance to fuck Chu Wanning to death.

The final person’s pretext had been taken by the person before him, and he was left at a loss for words. Chu Wanning’s frosty gaze swept toward him, and he rambled out in a panic, “Yuheng Elder, Mo-shidi once helped me dual cultivate—” “Pfft.” Someone failed to hold in their laughter.

How could it be you?” Li Wuxin’s face was as pale as dry wax. His silver tongue that had been flapping away a moment ago tied itself into a knot as he stuttered, “We haven’t heard a word from you since you left Rufeng Sect. Here we thought you went off to wander the world; yet who knew you—you were actually down here in the muck, casting pearls before swine!” Chu Wanning snorted, his eyes cool. “You think I’m a pearl? I’m flattered.

He saw his god crying... Chu Wanning... he was crying...

Chu Wanning nodded. He suddenly said, “Don’t just randomly take off your clothes anymore.” Mo Ran’s face went red. “Got it.

Yes, the first stirrings of his heart. When he’d come to Sisheng Peak, the person he’d fallen for hadn’t been Shi Mei, but Chu Wanning.

If I can't be wronged for you. Mo Ran and Taxian-Jun. I am willing to be scorned with you for all eternity.

This venerable one’s dear shizun really ought to take a look in the mirror.” Mo Ran’s finger slid along Chu Wanning’s cheek to rest by his ear, his eyes dark and threatening. A moment passed in silence, then he let out a cold hmph and abruptly leaned over. This lean was accompanied by a soft, searing-hot sensation as he captured Chu Wanning’s lips with his own. Caught completely off guard, Chu Wanning’s head hummed with white noise. Something in his mind seemed to…snap…

Chu Wanning wanted to look away, as if burned by the intensity of Mo Ran’s predatory gaze, but Mo Ran saw through his intentions and gripped his face before he could. “Look at me.” Mo Ran’s voice was rough and heated, shaking faintly from arousal—or perhaps something else—and filled with the craving of a beast about to devour its prey. “I said, look at me!” Chu Wanning shakily closed his eyes. This dream was far too absurd…

For some reason, the Mo Ran in this dream was wholly different from the one Chu Wanning knew. That deferential ingratiation had vanished, replaced by a domineering presence. He could distinctly feel Mo Ran’s heated breaths as he exhaled, low and rapid, animalistic desire searing like lava and threatening to melt him down, flesh and bone alike.

Mo Ran backed him into a wall, then abruptly raised a hand to strike the hard surface. The other hand closed tightly around Chu Wanning’s shackled wrist. Not without malicious spite, but also not without timid desire, he bent down to capture the lobe of an ear between his lips. Chu Wanning shuddered violently, a frightening numbness shooting up his spine and spreading over his scalp. Mo Ran’s voice was husky, his breaths heavy and oppressive. “Let me screw you, and I’ll let you have what you demand.

He trembled in Mo Ran’s embrace; Mo Ran’s chest was furiously hot, so hot that it was like Chu Wanning would be burned and drowned even through the layers of fabric. He wanted desperately to struggle, but he couldn’t summon the strength.

He couldn’t remember anymore. Not clearly. In that life, Mo Ran had been entangled with Chu Wanning for so long that many things had become blurred at the edges. Eventually, like a beast, he had known only one thing: that Chu Wanning was his. Even if he didn’t care for Chu Wanning, he was still his to sunder and to ruin. He’d have preferred to rip Chu Wanning apart with his own hands—bite through his ribcage and tear out his organs like a beast—than allow someone else to touch him.

Jeffrey ran to his car parked outside Mr Roslan's block, not wanting to lose sight of the young man and remembering Faizal's number plate. He found the black Nissan and pursued it from two or three cars away. It had started to drizzle and he almost lost him a few times along the Bukit Timah and Kranji Expressways, but kept a close eye on the back of Faizal's car. For twenty minutes they drove like an invisible convoy, before Faizal turned off the highway into the Lim Chu Kang area. Keeping his distance, Jeffrey saw Faizal stop his car by the main gate of Pusara Abadi, the Muslim cemetery ground. Jeffrey swerved to the side and waited until he saw Faizal getting out of the car empty-handed and entering the cemetery. Then, getting out of his car he pried open the Nissan's boot with an Allan key that he always carried in his pocket. Inside was a black trash bag and a long machete, well-worn and used, crusted along its edges with a dark stain. It was soil, not blood, as he lifted his finger to taste it. Jeffrey put the machete back, closed the boot and went closer into the burial grounds, the long weeds brushing the sides of his trousers. Faizal stood in a far corner of the cemetery. Jeffrey stopped, crouched behind a large tombstone and watched. A darker, smaller man appeared next to Faizal. They talked for a few minutes; several crumpled dollar notes were exchanged. Faizal patted the man's back. The man departed. Then Faizal walked back to his car. Jeffrey continued to watch. Faizal returned with the machete. Taking his time, he hacked away at the overgrown scrub around a blue minaret tombstone. Slow and lethargic like a landscape gardenener, he pulled up the weeds and threw them into a pile at the side. Jeffrey waited until Faizal cleared the vegetation and left the grounds, before inching forward. On the minaret tombstone, he saw the engraved name, 'Rubianah binte Bakar' - she had died eight years ago.

After the initial surprise, Chu Wanning convinced himself that he had misheard. After all, Mo Ran had always called him “Shizun.” And it was one thing for Mo Ran to call him “Chu Wanning,” but to call him “Wanning”— His mind tracked back to that night at the Red Lotus Pavilion, when they had slept holding one another and Mo Ran, fast asleep, had clearly called out “Wanning,” then pressed a kiss to his lips, light as the touch of a dragonfly on water. Was it possible that, in Mo Ran’s heart, there actually was a little bit of…

In exchange, Mo Ran had given Chu Wanning some of his own firsts as well, regardless of whether his shizun had wanted them. His first apprenticeship, his first attempt to coax someone, his first gift of flowers. His first thorough disappointment. And the first stirrings of his heart. Yes, the first stirrings of his heart. When he’d come to Sisheng Peak, the person he’d fallen for hadn’t been Shi Mei, but Chu Wanning.

But Mo Ran also thought about the way the man looked when he was curled up asleep, lonely and unassuming, like a haitang blossom that nobody cared for because it had bloomed too high on the branch. The hatred he felt aside, Mo Ran’s past life entanglements with Chu Wanning had in fact been more intimate than any he had shared with anyone else in the world. He had taken many of Chu Wanning’s firsts, regardless of whether the man had been willing. His first kiss, his first time cooking, his first time crying. And his first time. Dammit, just thinking about it made Mo Ran’s body feel hot and his blood rush downward.

The scar… That scar! He had suddenly remembered that, on Chu Wanning’s chest, where his heart lay—there was a scar.

In his past life, he had never cared about Chu Wanning’s history and so had never asked how he’d acquired that scar, all the way until his death. Now, in this life, he no longer had the right to ask.

You don’t know him, but anytime anything happens, he always gives me hell… He really doesn’t like me at all.” However, Chu Wanning was asleep, and these words scattered weightlessly into the silence of night without an answer, just like the misunderstandings that had coiled around them for decades and decades, and across two lifetimes.

Chu Wanning glanced knowingly at Mo Ran and mentally filed away this weak point. He figured that since he was, at present, already in a child’s body, and since Mo Ran hadn’t the slightest idea who he actually was, there was nothing to be embarrassed about. He opened his mouth again, and out came a soft, saccharine sweet: “Ge.” “…” “Gege.” “………” “Mo Ran-gege.” “Aaaaaah! Okay, okay! I’ll take you, I’ll take you! Stop saying that!” Mo Ran jumped to his feet, face bright red, and rubbed at the goosebumps on his arms. “All right, fine. Come along, then. You win, okay? You win. Oh my god.