Chapter 46: Seeking Wine and Merriment to Soothe a Wounded Heart

“How could you two sneak out without a word? I searched everywhere for you!” Just when Xiaoyin was thoroughly enjoying himself inside, he noticed that Yushang had long vanished from his side. At first, he thought Yushang had simply gone to relieve himself and would be back soon, but after waiting so long without his return, Xiaoyin began to worry something might have happened. He set out to look for him, searching for a good while until he finally discovered Yushang, who was, under the moonlight, deep in conversation with a young woman. As Xiaoyin gazed at the woman’s silhouette, he drew in a sharp breath, convinced that she had returned.

Xiaoyin truly couldn’t believe what he was seeing with his own eyes. In terror, he rubbed his eyes and shook his head vigorously. Only after a closer look did he realize that the woman was actually Meng Youyuan. He immediately let out a breath of relief, chuckling at himself for being so drunk as to conjure such an absurd illusion—how could she possibly be standing alive before him? Yet, Meng Youyuan’s presence gave him an unsettling sense of déjà vu; she reminded him so much of that woman, though their temperaments, features, and voices were worlds apart. What shared trait could possibly make him feel such confusion? Perhaps that rascal had noticed it too—otherwise, why would he stand there for so long, unable to turn and look her in the eye?

“It was stifling inside, so I just came out for some fresh air,” Meng Youyuan replied softly, turning around as if intentionally concealing their earlier conversation from others.

But the moment she turned, Xiaoyin was once more spellbound. The moonlight bathed her, making her already fair and delicate face appear all the more pale, almost ghostly. It was a whiteness that seeped into the bones and spread to the heart, a chill so deep it could freeze one’s very soul. In her expression, he saw the look that woman had worn at the moment of her death—etched from the same mold: the same desolation, the same despair, even a hint of resentment. For an instant, Xiaoyin thought she had returned, unable to rest in peace, and had taken on another form to claim their lives. But he quickly dismissed this ludicrous notion. That woman had been utterly destroyed by Yushang; how could she possibly return? He must simply be drunk and exhausted, his mind playing tricks on him. A good night’s sleep, and all would be well. Still, best to get everyone back inside—the moonlight outside was far too eerie to be ignored.

“I’m not your Lanwu. Why are you staring at me so absentmindedly? You’ll make a girl shy!” Meng Youyuan smiled, her lips curving as she saw Xiaoyin’s dazed state. Why did everything seem so unusual tonight? Could it be he’d mistaken her for her elder sister in his drunkenness?

“I just think, in this dim moonlight, you look like one of those rare beauties who could outshine the flowers,” Xiaoyin teased, coming to his senses, his voice tinged with playful sarcasm as he looked her up and down with exaggerated attentiveness.

“So you’ve started making sport of me like the others, have you? Don’t think I can’t hear the hidden meaning in your words—you’re just saying I’m unbearable to look at in daylight! Hmph! When we’re back, I’ll have Sister Lanwu give you a good talking to!” With that, she pouted, feigning a touch of anger as she glanced at Xiaoyin.

“See, even when I finally manage to pay a compliment, you misunderstand me! Clearly, I should keep my honest words to myself in the future, so no one ends up unhappy,” Xiaoyin sighed in mock resignation.

“Fine, you win. I’ll go now, all right?” As Meng Youyuan reached the door, she turned back to give Yushang a meaningful smile before stepping inside. Xiaoyin was puzzled by her inscrutable expression, but he could clearly sense Yushang’s momentary startlement. Even though Yushang hadn’t dared look at her directly, it seemed that smile had truly reached him.

“You’re still here, staring at the stars as if you’re lost in deep thought. Do you really plan to keep that pose until dawn? Don’t think I don’t know what’s on your mind. What you feel, I feel too,” Xiaoyin bantered, but his tone soon turned wistful, as if recalling something that soured his mood from cheerful to somber in an instant.

“I’m only afraid that if I turn around, I’ll once again be unable to tell who she really is—how am I supposed to face her then?” Yushang’s voice was calm, almost detached, yet it carried a poignant ache.

“Don’t worry about who she is. All you need to know is that she belongs to Lan Bingxian now. Even if she truly were that woman, she is no longer yours. What right do you have to treat her any differently? Now, she and you—at best, you’re just friends.” At this moment, Xiaoyin spoke like an elder brother, offering guidance to the confused Yushang, so unlike his usual playful, childlike self. He became a guiding light, leading Yushang through the fog of uncertainty, giving him back the clarity he needed.

“You’re right. She doesn’t belong to me—perhaps she never did. Maybe I really am drunk, and my heart and eyes are drunk along with me. She can’t possibly be her. That woman vanished from our past and will never appear in our future,” Yushang replied, his every gesture heavy with melancholy.

“As long as you can see things clearly, that’s enough. Whatever you do, just keep your mind and heart clear, and no fog can ever cloud your soul,” Xiaoyin said, stepping forward to pat his shoulder in understanding, hoping he could shake off his gloom.

“Xiaoyin, I’m lucky to have you by my side,” Yushang suddenly blurted, his words so unlike his usual self. Perhaps even the strongest have moments of vulnerability. In such moments, the companion who stands by you becomes someone you’ll cherish for a lifetime—something beyond kinship, friendship, even love; someone who becomes an irreplaceable part of your very being.

“Enough of those sentimental words, or I’ll think you’ve fallen for me. With my charm, who wouldn’t be drawn to me? But my heart already belongs to my dear Lanwu, so there’s no room for you. We’d better keep being brothers. Hey! Don’t walk away! Some things are better made clear, or misunderstandings might arise!” Yushang was in no mood for Xiaoyin’s nonsense, and after giving him a sidelong glance, he returned indoors. After he left, Xiaoyin broke into a smile—one filled with an affection that transcended all worldly ties. It was as if, like Yushang, he too regarded the other as an irreplaceable part of his life, one even his beloved could not replace.

Inside the bamboo cottage, songs floated through the air, beauties swirled in dance, and the men drank and discussed the world—such a scene of pure delight. Yushang entered, saw the group still in high spirits, and took a seat. Just as he settled, Lan Bingxian spoke slowly, “I was only gone for a little while, and when I came back you’d already made her drink so many cups, she’s nearly lost her wits and is dead drunk. And you, Brother Yu, slipped out almost as soon as you sat down and only just returned. Don’t you think he should be punished by drinking straight from the jar?” It seemed Lan Bingxian was quite drunk himself—gone was his usual warmth, replaced by unexpected boisterousness.

“Yes, you can’t be so unfair! If you punished me, you should punish him too!” Meng Youyuan, who had just been dancing with other women, hurried over, swaying as she spoke.

“Don’t worry, with me here, there’s no way he’ll get away with it. I’ll bring out the wine jars for you!” Yuxiao Ran, who was still relatively sober, said gleefully. Clearly, those who indulge daily in wine and pleasure are built differently—even after so many cups of strong liquor, he could still keep his wits and make sport of the others.

“Brother Yu, this time I won’t help you. You were too much—when they were forcing me to drink, you didn’t stop them, and you even slipped away! Now, you have to taste it yourself so I can soothe my wounded pride!” Leng Huaiyi, sprawled across the table, complained like a man talking in his sleep. Even the usually abstemious gentleman had been trained into a drunkard by this crowd.

“Hahaha, I’m curious to see what the usually cool and collected Brother Yu is like when he’s drunk. Will he be even wilder than us?” Yan Xuesu staggered over and slumped at the table, her tipsy elegance making her all the more alluring.

“Just so you know, you’re not allowed to use your inner energy to force the liquor out. If we catch you cheating, you’ll be in for it!” Lanwu also came over, nearly collapsing, but Xiaoyin was quick enough to catch her before the drunken beauty fell to the floor.

“Who would’ve thought that these ever-polite, always restrained people would be so uninhibited after drinking? When they sober up, they might not believe how unruly they were!” Xiaoyin laughed, watching the group in their drunken state. Though he hadn’t joined in their wild revelry, he could feel the genuine relaxation in their hearts—a freedom they could never know in their daily lives. Perhaps only when they drank themselves past thought could they truly be happy.

“The wine jars are here! These are all rare vintages, aged for tens of thousands of years, and tonight they’re all yours, Brother Yu!” Yuxiao Ran waved several jars before Yushang, grinning as if intent on drowning him in wine.

“Very well, tonight I’ll drink with you all—let’s not stop until we’re drunk!” With that, Yushang grabbed a jar, pulled out the stopper, and drank deeply, as if determined to lose himself in intoxication. After all, if he was drunk, he wouldn’t have to think about his troubles; if he was drunk, he wouldn’t have to face the harshness of the world. Only now did he understand why so many people lose themselves in wine—everyone has their secrets, their lonely sorrows.

“Well said! I’ll drink with you!” Yuxiao Ran raised his jar and drained it, as if he too wished to forget his cares and let himself relax.

“How could I miss out on such a fine occasion?” After settling the now-sleeping Lanwu, Xiaoyin joined the two in their fierce drinking. What none of them realized was that the rest were not truly drunk; they were merely using the rare wine as a pretext to vent their suppressed selves. In truth, no matter how rare the vintage, with their cultivation, how could they ever get truly drunk? It was all an act—outwardly muddled, inwardly, they were clear-headed as ever. The more they forced themselves to drink, the clearer their minds became, and that clarity was the deepest pain of all.