Chapter Twenty-One: North, South, East, West

A few friends made plans to drink at the Four Directions, so they settled dinner early that evening. Mo Han drove them around the city, accompanying Chu Xingran and Dust Fate as they strolled through the streets with Gu Zhiheng.

It was almost unbelievable—Dust Fate, upon hearing there would be drinking, transformed immediately. Usually, she appeared as a cherubic child, but tonight, for the sake of the gathering, she took on the form of an adult woman. Alluring and elegant, she radiated the same dazzling beauty as Chu Xingran.

At first, the others were unaccustomed to her new appearance, almost hesitant to look at her, as if reality itself had become unsteady. She had always been a little doll, and in the blink of an eye, she was a sensual enchantress.

"Sister Dust Fate, I have to admit, your ability to turn heads is remarkable!" Gu Zhiheng exclaimed in admiration, acknowledging the unique allure of a captivating woman.

Of course, handsome men were not to be overlooked. He and Mo Han were equals in that regard, though Mo Han embodied the ascetic charm of a domineering tycoon. Gu Zhiheng, on the other hand, was the picture of a gentle puppy, the kind whose innocence only grows the more you look.

"My, Ninth Lord, you do have a sweet tongue. Sister likes it!" Dust Fate laughed heartily, reveling in the rare pleasure of appearing before others in this form—something she was still getting used to.

When she first assumed a human shape, it was this very guise. Yet the dangers her appearance attracted prompted her to adopt the look of a child, living quietly among mortals. By human standards, she was an orphan, having walked her path alone for many years.

Later, she met Chu Xingran and followed her lead.

"Ah, back in the day, I was quite the heartbreaker—but that was then." Dust Fate was confident and radiant now, free from the timidness that once clouded her gaze.

The four walked together, a striking group of handsome men and beautiful women, drawing every eye. They outshone even the brightest celebrities, commanding a hundred percent attention wherever they went.

Gu Zhiheng was unaccustomed to such scenes, unsettled by the attention and the strangers snapping photos. He grew uncomfortable, his serious demeanor amusing the others, who couldn’t help but laugh.

He was still a child at heart, unable to handle such situations.

"This is more nerve-wracking than having dozens of old men watching me do homework at home. I feel like cursing just to steady myself," Gu Zhiheng said, true to his character—though his comparison was questionable.

Truthfully, this was the first time Gu Zhiheng had seen so many people in one place. His village had only a dozen households, barely a hundred people in total.

The homes were distant from one another, making visits difficult. Because of his identity and physical condition, he never visited others, staying always in the ancestral hall, surrounded by old men.

And not ordinary old men—they were all ghosts.

Every day, they rambled on endlessly, or forced him to study various disciplines, never allowing him any fun.

While other children enjoyed vibrant childhoods, his was spent drawing talismans and practicing hand seals, day and night.

Compared to others, his first twenty-three years were monotonous and dull.

As he grew older, Chu Xingran would bring him things from the outside: toys, delicacies, and books.

Later, she taught him to use a mobile phone, a computer.

Gradually, he mastered the tools of the mortal world and began to understand it.

On his eighteenth birthday, Chu Xingran added his father, mother, and sister’s contacts. From then on, he could see his family from time to time.

Every weekend, his talkative sister would share stories from her day, gossip she’d heard, and news about their parents and herself.

Slowly, he began to yearn for something, though he didn’t know what it was.

As a child, no one taught him about longing for family, anticipation for events.

Time could stretch endlessly; not everything that was planned would come to fruition.

Other children had amusement parks, toy cars, and beautiful clothes.

He had never experienced parental love or the warmth of family.

Friendship, love, even joy and sorrow—he had no concept of these things.

Thankfully, he had Chu Xingran, who always returned after her busy days to see him, teaching him things he never knew.

She told him not to bottle everything up, but to speak, to share with those around him.

Over time, he changed, becoming like a normal person.

Once a puppet on strings, he began to have his own thoughts, his own emotions—even if only a little.

...

"What’s wrong? Why are you crying?" Mo Han asked Gu Zhiheng, perplexed.

Gu Zhiheng shook his head silently, saying nothing, but he knew why the tears had come.

He remembered too much, and his emotions overflowed.

Seeing Gu Zhiheng unwilling to speak, Mo Han turned to Chu Xingran. "What’s going on with Gu Zhiheng? He seems off."

At first, Chu Xingran thought he was simply drunk, but on second thought, that didn’t seem right. She considered the events of the day and quickly understood.

"He’s just a kid, remembering the past—it makes his heart ache." Indeed, his childhood had been full of hardship and exhaustion.

Fortunately, she had taken him away, though the so-called responsibilities could not be shirked.

"Young man, why worry so much? Come, have a drink with your brother!" Mo Han nodded, understanding.

No wonder—last night, Gu Zhiheng had fought him with such desperation. It wasn’t just about winning; during their sparring, he risked his life, gambling with fate.

Now he understood why the old men had wanted to thrash Gu Zhiheng the previous evening—they hoped to wake him up.

"I wouldn’t dare, you’re a senior," Gu Zhiheng replied, maintaining his manners despite the drink.

He acted as if nothing was wrong, smiling at the others.

"Ah, let’s not dwell on that. I say you’re my brother, and so you are. Drink!" Mo Han understood Gu Zhiheng well; he too had walked a similar path as a child.

"I’ll drink, but tonight you’re buying. This bar is yours," Gu Zhiheng grinned mischievously, unwilling to spend his own money.

His savings were for Chu Xingran—for villas, beautiful clothes, and jewelry. He wanted to find more people to serve her, and his money could not be spent carelessly.

Mo Han had no choice but to agree, "Yes, yes, the Four Directions are mine. Drinks are on me."

They raised their glasses, vowing not to leave until they were drunk.

Having shared similar experiences, perhaps they cherished their friendship all the more.

Even as their friendship deepened, their original intentions had never changed.