Guide of the Sichuan Tang Clan C11

Chapter 11

Mujin’s last memory before losing consciousness was of Eunmyeong running toward him. The moment their energies connected, an unfamiliar force surged through him—and then everything went dark.

When his eyes opened again, Eunmyeong was right there, murmuring something under his breath. His hair, tied neatly in a single knot, framed his face; beneath it were daring eyes that met his own without a hint of hesitation—and lips that moved ceaselessly, full and red as if tinted with rouge.

Mujin’s gaze fixed on them involuntarily.

Every time those lips moved, his throat tightened, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly.

“Um, are you even listening to me?”

Eunmyeong’s voice cut through the fog, but Mujin couldn’t answer. It was as if he were possessed—his senses could no longer focus on anything else. Everything except Eunmyeong blurred and vanished. He no longer knew where he was or whether it was day or night.

“Hello? Mujin doryeonnim?”

A strange thirst rose within him. It was the same burning thirst he’d felt before collapsing—a desire that screamed to press skin against skin, to taste those lips.

Danger. His instincts screamed of danger.

Mujin abruptly pushed himself up, moving with a speed unthinkable for someone who had been bedridden for a week.

He had to get away.

But just as he turned toward the door, Eunmyeong caught his hand.

Instantly, Mujin froze in place.

“Honestly, you’re so high-maintenance!”

Maybe he had said too much—but it was too late. Seeing the man’s energy spiking again, Eunmyeong began to pour his guiding energy into him.

“Ugh, can you please try to calm your qi down? Please?”

“…”

“Do you know how hard I worked to suppress this? And the moment you wake up, it’s all over the place again.”

Muttering complaints, Eunmyeong laced their fingers together. He wanted to climb back on top of Mujin’s body—because that always worked better—but judging from the look in Mujin’s eyes, he’d probably be murdered for it.

“You…”

Mujin’s gaze lowered to their entwined hands.

“What exactly are you?”

“Me?”

Eunmyeong blinked, pointing to himself.

“I’m, uh…”

“…”

“Tang Eunmyeong?”

Silence.

With no response, Eunmyeong’s shoulders drooped slightly.

What else could he say? He had already explained that he was a “living elixir” and given his name. What more could he possibly add?

A wandering ghost inside a novel? …No, that sounded insane.

While he hesitated, Mujin continued to stare down at their joined hands—then turned abruptly and walked out.

“Hey! Wait!”

Eunmyeong poked his head out into the corridor and called after him. Mujin stopped mid-step.

“You’ll need another session tomorrow. Should I come at the same time?”

No reply.

Did I mess up the guiding again? He glanced at his own palm anxiously.

“No need.”

“No—wait, doryeonnim!”

Too late. Mujin’s stride quickened, and within moments, he vanished. Even when Eunmyeong stepped out into the hallway, there wasn’t so much as a shadow left.

“How can anyone move that fast?”

He didn’t seem fully stabilized yet, though. Staring after him, Eunmyeong sighed.

Once a civil servant, always a civil servant—still worrying about people who clearly didn’t want his help.

“Ugh, stop thinking about work during your downtime, Eunmyeong.”

He’d just handle it tomorrow. That was the plan.

Or so he thought.

“Where’s the young master?”

“He was just over there—wait. That’s odd. He was polishing his sword a second ago.”

“Over there?”

“Yeah, right there by the courtyard… huh. Must’ve stepped out.”

Eunmyeong stared, dumbfounded.

“You’re telling me he was right there?”

“Yeah, until just now. Maybe you did something to upset him?”

“Upset him? Me?!”

By the third day of searching, he had scoured every inch of the manor without catching so much as a glimpse of Mujin’s sleeve.

“Why is he avoiding me?!”

At this point, there was no doubt about it. The man was deliberately avoiding him. No matter how vast this estate was, it made no sense that they hadn’t crossed paths once.

Eunmyeong’s gaze swept across the training grounds like a hawk.

Found him? No—just Jeongho.

Eunmyeong charged straight in.

“Honored Hero?”

Jeongho blinked as his wrist was suddenly seized, dragged out of formation. Eunmyeong’s expression was dark and stormy.

“Is something wrong?”

Dark circles under his eyes, energy of pure fury radiating from him—Eunmyeong smiled thinly.

“Where’s your lord?”

Let’s see if you can still hide when your superior’s involved.

Eunmyeong sprinted toward Cheongwoo’s quarters, Jeongho’s directions echoing in his head.

“I swear, I won’t let this slide.”

He panted heavily but didn’t stop running. The only skills he’d improved since arriving here were drying herbs and running marathons.

The herbs were his father’s fault. The running—Mujin’s.

At last, he reached Cheongwoo’s residence. The moment he crossed the gate, his legs gave out.

“Haaah… I’m gonna kill him when I catch him.”

As he gasped for breath, someone’s presence loomed before him.

“Are you all right?”

That voice—

Eunmyeong looked up. The very man he’d been chasing stood there, hair cascading like dark silk, face unfairly beautiful. If anything, his complexion looked even better than before—probably thanks to all the guiding sessions.

Meanwhile, he’d been running around like a stray dog.

Eunmyeong’s eyes sharpened dangerously.

“Are you feeling that unwell? You can’t even speak?”

As Mujin reached out a hand toward him, Eunmyeong seized the opportunity—literally.

“Got you!”

He yanked both of Mujin’s hands—but the man’s martial artist’s body didn’t so much as budge. Instead, the recoil sent Eunmyeong tumbling forward.

And of course, Mujin didn’t catch him.

He withdrew both hands behind his back like touching Eunmyeong would kill him.

“W-whoa—!”

Both of them lost balance and fell.

“Agh!”

Eunmyeong squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for pain—but surprisingly, his back didn’t hit the ground. His waist and hips were intact.

He opened his eyes—Mujin was underneath him.

The young master’s eyes widened, his brows knitting instantly. His cold features grew even colder.

“Would you kindly get off.”

He could easily push him away, yet Mujin didn’t. Instead, he kept his hands rigidly behind his back, as if determined to avoid even the slightest touch.

Oh, that was it.

“Do you hate me that much?”

“What are you saying?”

“Don’t ‘what are you saying’ me! You’ve been avoiding me, and now you’re even dodging this!“

Mujin blinked, as if genuinely bewildered.

“I have?”

“Yes, you have!”

Even the respectful “young master” had vanished from Eunmyeong’s vocabulary.

“What did I do? I merely stood here.”

“Oh, come on.”

Eunmyeong laughed dryly. What a load of nonsense.

Even while pinned beneath him, Mujin was doing everything possible not to touch him—muscles tensed, thighs locked, body arched slightly away.

And he says he’s done nothing?

“How insolent.”

Mujin turned his head sharply, as if even looking at Eunmyeong was distasteful.

But then Eunmyeong noticed something.

Wait. Is that…

The ear revealed by that sudden turn was bright red—from lobe to helix.

Oh-ho.

A smirk curved Eunmyeong’s lips.

So that’s what this is.

The anger and irritation evaporated instantly.

He’d always preferred the clean, pure type over flirtatious ones. And right now, Mujin—with his flushed ears and cold, flustered demeanor—was exactly his type.

Eunmyeong’s smile widened mischievously.

“Well, I am known for being insolent. Shall I show you how insolent I can be?”

He wrapped both arms around Mujin’s chest, pressing their bodies together until not an inch of space remained.

From chest to waist, their heat blended. Mujin’s heartbeat pounded wildly against him.

Not mine, obviously—it’s Tang Mujin’s, right?

It was… kind of adorable. The way Mujin stiffened at every small movement, holding his breath like physical contact might kill him. His entire body screamed: I’m definitely not into this—please believe me!

Just admit defeat already, it’ll be easier for both of us.

Eunmyeong lifted his gaze, smiling up prettily, his crescent-shaped eyes curving like moon petals.

“Maybe I should change my name. From Tang Eunmyeong to Tang Insolent?”

“Such… shameless insolence…”

Mujin ground the words between his teeth, still refusing to look him in the eye.

Footnote

1. Doryeonnim (도련님) respectful form of address for a young nobleman