UCS Chapter 118

Peaceful days always pass the fastest.

Gao Gusheng had by now gradually begun to get a handle on the Gao family’s affairs. Grandfather Gao had given him a small company to manage on his own. Gao Gusheng had inherited Gao Shi’s talent perfectly, and took to it with great ease. It was difficult to believe he was only eighteen.

The Gao family had no interest in adversity-based education or in pretending to be poor. Everything given to Gao Gusheng was of the highest standard. The Gao family had always believed that only by letting a child see the view from the very top could the child’s starting point be higher and their ambitions reach further.

Gao Gusheng was run off his feet, falling asleep the moment his head hit the pillow each day, but his life was full, and he loved that feeling.

Sometimes Gao Shi would think of the Gao Gusheng from the dreams, like a tender seedling growing in a wasteland, straining with everything it had just to survive.

Now Lele was living the life his dream-self had longed for most.

Gao Shi and Ying Bujie, during this period, had been kept busy managing affairs in the spirit world. As spiritual energy gradually recovered, more and more non-human entities began to appear, and the legal systems governing both the living and spirit realms had grown increasingly developed.

Ying Bujie had also planted a seed of reincarnation in this world.

That night, Gao Shi stirred with a feeling in his dream and woke to see silver points of light flickering and fading on the neighbouring balcony. He walked over and found Ying Bujie holding a black vortex in his cupped hands, with countless points of light drifting toward it from all directions. It was unmistakably black, and yet it was like a lighthouse on a vast dark sea, guiding lost souls home.

It was a galaxy forged from souls.

Afterward, Ying Bujie channelled a thread of reincarnation’s power into this world, and from that point he would no longer need to personally send souls to be reincarnated.

After this, the number of ghosts wandering the living realm visibly diminished, and the management of the spirit realm became considerably more straightforward.

The legal systems of both realms were being refined at a rapid pace. Because of Gao Shi’s unique standing as an Anomaly Management Bureau officer, he was invited to attend both living world and spirit world meetings alike, and found himself just as rushed off his feet.

Fortunately, two months on, the foundational frameworks for both legal systems had been completed.

With the passage of time, both would continue to grow more complete.

And amid this atmosphere of flourishing and renewal, as the spring breeze swept once more across the land, Xiao Yusheng’s new film wrapped production.

The name Xiao Yusheng alone was a gold-standard guarantee of the viewing experience. Add to that the dramatic incidents that had unfolded during the film’s production, and the movie had received the widest possible publicity without spending a single coin.

The film had not yet been released, and already a single behind-the-scenes clip had drawn a flood of praise.

In the clip, Xiao Yusheng was battered and dishevelled, yet his eyes burned with fierce flame as he glared at the unrepentant traffickers. He had not said a word, yet the emotion he conveyed moved everyone who watched.

[Worth it, worth it. Just for this clip alone, this film cannot be bad!]

[I don’t know why, but the male lead feels so upright and principled. And even though his battle-worn makeup is exactly the kind I love, I just can’t bring myself to have impure thoughts about him.]

[I hope everyone pays more attention to trafficking cases. That was the whole reason he made this film. May the world be free of trafficking.]

[Some things are written in the bones. They can’t be performed. I think he might just be as upright a person as the male lead in real life.]

Gao Shi read that last comment and let out a quiet, derisive click of his tongue.

He shook his head, set down the laptop, and looked no further.

Xiao Yusheng had been quiet and had not caused any trouble. But this silence felt more like the calm before a storm. Gao Shi had never relaxed his vigilance toward him.

More than that, there was another matter weighing on him more heavily.

Specifically, the Ying Bujie currently standing before him.

Ying Bujie, dressed in a white duck-print pyjama set, came over hugging a pillow, with two cups of warm water floating along behind him on spiritual energy.

One cup floated to each bedside table. Ying Bujie himself lay down on the bed as though this were the most natural thing in the world.

Noticing Gao Shi looking down at him, Ying Bujie gave the bed a light pat. “Time to sleep.”

Steam had tinged his cheeks faintly pink. His freshly washed long hair was tucked inside an oversized sleep cap, with a few loose strands escaping along his face, his eyes soft and bright.

Gao Shi looked away and switched off the light.

During this period Gao Shi would sometimes dream in scattered fragments: sometimes of Lele from the dreams, sometimes of his past life. Every time he fell into nightmare, Ying Bujie would come.

In dreams where Ying Bujie intervened, he no longer felt helpless or stifled. He could reach those scoundrels, and naturally he could beat them senseless again and again right there in the dream.

Each time Gao Shi woke feeling unburdened, he would always find Ying Bujie sitting quietly at the side of his bed.

One night, Ying Bujie had expended a great deal of spiritual energy and, growing drowsy, had fallen asleep slumped over Gao Shi’s bedside. Gao Shi felt a pang of concern and simply moved Ying Bujie onto the bed to sleep properly. It was a large bed, more than spacious enough.

When Ying Bujie woke, he looked at Gao Shi and then at his surroundings with a bewildered expression that was so disarming it made Gao Shi’s heart skip a beat. And so when Ying Bujie suggested that perhaps the two of them should simply sleep in the same room, Gao Shi agreed without a second thought.

At the time Gao Shi had merely found Ying Bujie endearingly adorable. It was only that evening that the full implications caught up with him.

Gao Shi looked at the cold moonlight filtering through the window curtain and let out a quiet inward sigh.

Why had he bought such an oversized bed in the first place? The thing could sleep five or six people comfortably, let alone two. Mostly it was because his sleeping habits were genuinely poor.

Anyone who regularly dreamed of their child being mistreated would probably develop poor sleeping habits as well.

Bad as his own were, he had not anticipated that Ying Bujie’s would be equally unfortunate. When he woke the next morning, Gao Shi found himself held firmly in Ying Bujie’s arms. The daytime image of a refined and otherworldly Daoist had, in sleep, transformed into something resembling a giant octopus. The zip on Ying Bujie’s pyjama top had been rubbed open, and when Gao Shi looked down, there was nothing left to the imagination.

Gao Shi’s mind let out a resounding hum.

He had seen everything back in the fitting room, and yet somehow this was a far greater blow to his composure.

Men are easily affected in the mornings to begin with, let alone a man with Gao Shi’s constitution, and the person he loved lying right beside him.

That particular morning, Gao Shi was in a thoroughly wretched state.

Ying Bujie, for his part, seemed entirely oblivious. He came over hugging his pillow every night with a happy expression, and several times Gao Shi had been on the verge of suggesting Ying Bujie go back to his own room to sleep, only to swallow the words down each time.

The breathing beside him deepened and grew steady.

Gao Shi turned over and saw Ying Bujie sleeping quietly, facing his direction.

His lashes were long, his skin very fair. When he was not smiling, he looked like a sculpture carved from white jade, indescribably cool and distant.

But when those eyes looked toward Gao Shi, they filled to the brim with the warmth of spring.

The thought alone sent a numbing warmth rushing up from the base of his spine. Gao Shi’s expression shifted immediately. He drew a deep breath, closed his eyes, and did not dare look again.

He was not by nature a person driven by desire. In truth, because of those nightmares, he had developed a visceral aversion to such things in his earlier years. As adolescence arrived, his aversion only deepened, and he was at one point even diagnosed with a psychological disorder.

Later, through counselling, he had adjusted his mindset, yet still found little enthusiasm for such things. When necessity arose he would deal with it perfunctorily, never finding any particular pleasure in it.

He maintained an attitude of understanding and respect toward love between men, yet had never been able to imagine it applying to himself, until he met Ying Bujie.

He had not anticipated that after Ying Bujie became the unexpected arrival in his heart, he would also become an unexpected arrival in this regard.

Gao Shi composed himself, thinking he should turn away. But his eyes fell once more on Ying Bujie’s face against his will.

With each breath Ying Bujie drew, his long lashes trembled faintly, like a butterfly alighting on his eyelids.

How could there be a person this perfect? Every feature seemed to be precisely the way he preferred it.

This person had not the slightest wariness about him, not even a trace of concern that Gao Shi might lose his self-control.

Had he, in his past life, always been unable to keep his hands to himself around Ying Bujie? Goodness, past-life him had been quite shameless.

Gao Shi was staring fixedly at Ying Bujie’s lashes when those long lashes stirred, and Ying Bujie slowly opened his eyes.

He blinked once, a faint smile in his expression. “What are you looking at?”

Those eyes were clear and bright. He had plainly not been asleep at all.

The moment Gao Shi realised this, his whole body went rigid. An indescribable mix of awkwardness and embarrassment crept over him. His expression remained blank, but his ears went completely red.

“…Nothing.”

Ying Bujie looked at him quietly, then suddenly leaned in and pressed a kiss to Gao Shi’s lips. It was quick and light, like a cherry blossom petal falling on the surface of a lake.

Gao Shi’s heart nearly stopped.

Ying Bujie drew back a little, watching him like a small animal, tentative and testing.

Seeing no response from Gao Shi, he slowly drew close again, and gently wrapped his arms around him. Gao Shi’s cheek was pressed against soft white fleece, both yielding and ticklish.

“Can we sleep like this? Just holding each other?”

Gao Shi was silent.

The curtain stirred faintly. Moonlight lay across the room like a reflection in still water.

After some time, Gao Shi’s voice finally emerged from within Ying Bujie’s arms.

“…Daoist Ying, you are genuinely not afraid of me at all.”

Ying Bujie leaned down and touched his forehead to Gao Shi’s. “Afraid of what?”

Gao Shi looked at his lips, barely parting with each breath, his gaze growing heavy. He reached up and took hold of the soft white fabric of Ying Bujie’s pyjama top, drawing him down.

This kiss carried all of Gao Shi’s long-accumulated fire, together with the embarrassment from moments before, returning it all to Ying Bujie with unrestrained force.

After a moment, Gao Shi pulled back, breathing slightly unsteadily, his gaze carrying an edge of aggression and challenge as he looked at Ying Bujie. “Like that.”

Ying Bujie looked at him, and slowly blinked again, his expression carrying his habitual innocence. And yet in that instant, Gao Shi felt something was different.

“Not afraid.”

Ying Bujie leaned down and kissed him back. His kiss was very gentle, like a wind that had travelled from somewhere far away, arriving at his side with great care, whispering of distant forests and rain.

And yet it stirred Gao Shi beyond all bearing.

This kiss was like scratching an itch through a boot. Each graze and light touch, rather than feeling tender, was more like a gentle form of exquisite torment.

His fingers clenched and released. His tongue gave chase with unruly persistence, like a completely unreasonable bandit intent on carrying the beloved before him back to his mountain stronghold as his captive.

What was strange was that Gao Shi never made this same mistake anywhere else, and yet when it came to Ying Bujie he had the memory of a goldfish, always forgetting the pain the moment the wound healed. One moment he seemed to be holding the upper hand, and the next he had fallen into disadvantage entirely.

Through the haze he heard Ying Bujie give a soft laugh.

In his past life, there had been a great peach tree in Ying Bujie’s courtyard. Sometimes, stepping out the door, he would see the young man in white lying back against the trunk, and when he appeared, Ying Bujie would smile brilliantly.

“Come. Have a drink.”

A wind blew petals drifting all across the courtyard, settling in Gao Shi’s hair and at the corners of his eyes. Ying Bujie’s heart stirred faintly. He brushed them away, then pressed a light kiss there instead.

Perhaps the peach blossom crushed at the corner of his eye lent him something of spring’s own colour, making him more vivid than spring itself by three degrees.

The tree swayed. Petals fell in a cascade, soft and tender, and where they touched, Gao Shi was dusted in scattered pink.

Ying Bujie rarely saw Gao Shi in any colour but his usual ones. He smiled and told him he looked beautiful.

Gao Shi turned his head away, cheeks faintly flushed, covering his eyes with his arm, his ears as red as a peach blossom.

Ying Bujie was seized by mischief. He pulled his arm down and kissed him.

Outside the window the moonlight was perfect. The night breeze was cool. Yet Gao Shi felt the very air had grown difficult to breathe.

After some time, he spoke in broken, low murmurs. “You… where did you learn… to kiss like… like that?”

Ying Bujie’s voice was faintly husky, full of smiling warmth.

“I had a good teacher.”

“Isn’t that right, Shanshan?”

***