Having spoken up to that point, Zhou Zishu frowned. He’d merely heard of this tale and hadn’t added in his own conjecture, but talking like this left many areas of unknowns. What happened at Feng Ya Mountain then, for example? How did Rong Xuan’s wife die? How did a such prodigy that should have been the master of a generation fall into the Ghost Valley, keeping company with its people? Thankfully, Zhang Chengling was not an astute child, merely listening on in ignorance and not having epiphanies at all.

The details of this, buried for so many years… how many could be brought to light?

Those who participated had either died or kept their lips sealed. Even all of Tian Chuang couldn’t gather together the truth. Zhou Zishu had a suspicion… that the Lapis Armor was a relic of the day of the battle on Feng Ya Mountain.

In the evening, Zhou Zishu finally managed to pry open Wen Kexing’s hand that was tugging firmly at his clothes. He shot a few wild animals and brought them back, roasting them for eating. He mulled over how no matter where he went, bringing such a little thing along was cumbersome.

But he didn’t want to force him, only letting Zhang Chengling think of what path he should take himself.

Wen Kexing was so very drunk that the day had darkened and he was still not getting up from his mud-like paralysis. Zhou Zishu taught Zhang Chengling a few mnemonics, told him to catch onto them himself, then leaned to the side and closed his eyes to rest, falling into a dazed sleep an unclear amount of time later. He then suddenly sensed a single hand feeling about his body, very sneakily trying to undo the buttons on his upper clothes.

Zhou Zishu grasped the person by the wrist, opening his eyes.

Wen Kexing was still a bit drunk at the moment. He didn’t panic upon noticing that he’d been caught, simply smiling towards him in the darkness and then justifying himself. “I only wanted to see what the fabled Seven Aperture Nails look like, not to grab you in whatever way or deliberately act like a felon.”

The phrase went, ‘explaining is just concealment, concealment is just the beginning of a mistake’ — and this vulgar Wen man had given one specific elaboration. He’d been grabbed by Zhou Zishu on one wrist, the other hand propped up against the ground, and he was nearly half-stooping over Zhou Zishu’s form. Zhang Chengling was already dead asleep at this time; they breathed and spoke very lightly, and in the dark, that had a sort of indescribable ambiguity. Wen Kexing abruptly got closer, taking off his own outer robe and bundling the other in it, stirring up the hair on his temple as he spoke in a low voice. “Ah-Xu, is ‘Zhou Xu’ really your name?”