Remnants of Filth(Yuwu) Volumes 1-5

MO XI'S FURY AND DISGUST blazed to life once more. His face was yet impassive, but his dark eyes hid an inferno of rage.

He felt hatred, but he didn't know whom he was hating. Of course he knew he shouldn't hate the people who came to bed Gu Mang- they were only paying for a night of fun. He shouldn't hate Wangshu- jun, either he was only debasing a guilty subject as ordered.

So he could only hate Gu Mang.

Mo Xi stared at the scarlet text on the plaque, the redness swiftly infecting his eyes like an incurable disease. How familiar this was, like the return of a nightmare.

Many years ago, Mo Xi had returned upon the completion of a mission to hear that, after the new emperor had stripped him of his rank, Gu Mang couldn't pull himself together. Mo Xi was told that Gu Mang was wasting away, drowning his woes in brothels-but he didn't believe it.

Yet when Mo Xi stood panting like a fool in the dim light, when he strode in amid the voices of the women and pushed aside the heavy sandalwood door, he saw that familiar silhouette in the depths of the room.

Only a few months had passed. Gu Mang's face hadn't changed, but he no longer seemed like the same person.

Gu Mang was lying in the bed, surrounded by glinting opulence.

Incense burned slowly inside the golden beast-shaped censers, and pale wisps of smoke rose in spirals, the fumes making everything misty and unclear. When Gu Mang heard the door, he opened hazy black eyes to glance at Mo Xi. As though he saw none of the anger and sadness on his old friend's face, he smiled.

Something in Mo Xi's heart seemed to shatter at the sight of that careless smile.

Gu Mang was right, he thought. Pleasure went only skin-deep.

It's just sleeping together. You can do that with anyone. Why take it so seriously? Gu Mang had said to him.

Gu Mang had never been shy about such things. Back in the day, he had been prone to cup Mo Xi's uneasy face as he lay beneath him, smiling as he panted. Shidi, don't worry, you don't need to be so gentle.

Your Gu Mang-gege is tough- you won't break me.

During the years of their wild entanglement, Gu Mang had been fucked to the point of tears more than once, to the point where he'd mindlessly murmured Mo Xi's name and tearily said,

I love you.

But he might not have meant it.

That was why Gu Mang could smile as he lay in the brothel, with not a single care for the past.

It was Mo Xi's own fault for being stupid. Like a silly kid, he'd actually believed that words said between the sheets were true.

It's not like it's anything important.

After the new emperor discarded him, Gu Mang refused to pull himself together. Perhaps the emperor's actions and the deaths of his soldiers had shattered his soul, so he wanted to languish in mud for the rest of his life.

In smoke, in wine, in women.

He would drown himself in whatever provided the most vivid illusions, as long as, in those illusions, he was still that young General Gu, who still had his brothers and his passion.

At this moment, in Luomei Pavilion, indistinct sounds of con- versation could be heard from inside the room in front of Mo Xi. Feeling faint, he walked to the window at the end of the hallway and gasped for air outside. His slender fingers tightened on the window frame so hard they left a crack in the wooden lattice.

Faithless bitch.

The rims of Mo Xi's eyes were scarlet as he stared out into the night. These blisteringly harsh words had come into his mind unbid- den. This was the first time he had ever thought to use such vicious language to describe someone.

Gu Mang, that bitch.

Mo Xi had once believed he understood Gu Mang well, that he knew Gu Mang better than anyone else. He had been so stupid, holding Gu Mang in his heart, treating him as the most intimate of friends.

He had been so ignorant. Gu Mang had been clear in his teach- ing: sleeping together didn't mean anything, and sleeping together multiple times only meant they liked each other's bodies. But Mo Xi still hadn't been able to stop himself from treating Gu Mang like a beloved, never to be betrayed. He was old-fashioned and stubborn when it came to this; no one could change his obstinate temperament.

That was why he'd once believed so firmly in Gu Mang. Even when Gu Mang became the target of a thousand grievances, Mo Xi had stood in the great hall of Chonghua's imperial palace and told everyone: "I, Mo Xi, can swear on my life that Gu Mang would never turn traitor."

But Gu Mang lied to him. Gu Mang betrayed him. Betrayed Mo Xi's trust, again and again. Betrayed his hope, day after day. In the end, Gu Mang personally stabbed Mo Xi in the chest and told him that everything had gone far past the point of return.

Mo Xi had once believed that things couldn't get any worse He never could have imagined that even now, Gu Mang could still crush his already fractured heart.

Before he came to Luomei Pavilion, Mo Xi had nursed a little bit of hope in his chest. He had hoped Gu Mang was still the same unyielding man whose conscience would never let him bow to the powerful. If that were the case, Mo Xi's heart, which Gu Mang had covered in scars, might have yet felt some measure of relief.

But Gu Mang wouldn't even grant him that slight bit of ease.

Mo Xi felt like the bones in his flesh were shaking, trembling from hatred.

Gu Mang had actually spent these years in Luomei Pavilion, where the slaves were treated worse than livestock...

Mo Xi didn't know whether he should feel satisfaction at a traitor's punishment as Xihe-jun, or anguish over an old friend's ruination as Mo Xi.

The door opened with a thump.

Mo Xi tensed instantly, like a falcon sighting prey. Without turning, he was certain the sound had come from Gu Mang's direction.

A man was leaving Gu Mang's room, cursing up a storm. He spat phlegm onto the ground, continuing to swear as he stomped down the stairs. The sharp scent of wine filled the hallway-the departing guest was obviously a drunken alcoholic.

Mo Xi stod frozen in place. Only after a long while, when the scent of wine had dissipated, did he lift his head and close his eyes.

When he slowly opened them again, he was filled with a strange calm. Stepping silently, he made his way back to Gu Mang's door. He paused, then lifted one black leather military boot and pushed open the carved lacquer door that someone else had closed moments ago.

The room was dark, lit by a single oil lamp, and was still filled with the nauseating scent of alcohol. Mo Xi walked in with his jaw clenched and glanced around, only to find the room empty.

Halfway through his second survey of the room, he heard splash- ing from behind a screen.

Mo Xi's blood surged fretfully once again. Gu Mang was bathing.

This realization felt like being hit with a rod, the strike making him dizzy. He had suppressed so many emotions-betrayal, disap- pointment, loathing, hatred to the point of madness, until his heart was bleeding, the blood rushing up against the current to dye his eyes red. Biting his lip, he forced himself to turn away. His nails had sunk deep into his palms before he managed, barely, to restrain that overflowing fury.

He hadn't realized he would be so angry even now; that his rage had only grown with the passage of time.

Mo Xi sat down at the little round table, closing his eyes to avoid losing control. As he waited for Gu Mang to emerge, he thought: When Gu Mang saw him, what expression would Gu Mang have? When he saw Gu Mang, what should he say?

Mo Xi gritted his teeth and sat in silence for a long time. He didn't even notice when the sound of water stopped; he was too busy hating Gu Mang's lack of dignity.

Only when the room was illuminated by a second lamp did Mo Xi come to his senses. Turning, he saw a young man, clad in only awhite robe, standing by the lampstand and quietly looking at him. Mo Xi didn't know how long he had been standing there.

The face was the same as the one in his memories. It was merely a little thinner.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

The young man stood without making a sound, a magical shackle visible where his robes hung loose at the collar. He was barefoot, his inky black hair unbound and draping obediently down over one shoul der. It set off the thinness and paleness of his face, making his eyes seem extraordinarily bright. His hair was still wet from his bath, and water streamed down his nape to his collarbones, to his chest...disappearing into the shadows beneath his robe and leaving faint smudges of wetness.

Gu Mang.

Gu Mang...

In the terrifying stillness, the sounds of pleasure from the next room over were all the more piercing.

The rims of Mo Xi's eyes were red, and his clenched knuckles were shaking. He stared at the man before him. He swallowed, want- ing to say something but rendered mute.

At last, they had met again. Finally, they were reunited.

Mo Xi had thought of so many questions, but he couldn't seem to remember a single one.

All that flashed in his blurry sight was that scene many years ago on the battleship. The blue-and-gold ribbon was askew on Gu Mang's forehead as he lifted Mo Xi's face with that bloody dagger, expression unreadable as he said, I really will kill you.

Back then, Mo Xi had thought that might be the end to their story.

Yet now their paths had crossed again. Gu Mang was standing right in front of Mo Xi, his expression serene as he regarded him silently.

To be honest, it was laughable. There was such hatred between them, but in this moment, Mo Xi's first reaction was distress: he had not seen Gu Mang come in, and therefore had missed the look in Gu Mang's eyes when he first caught sight of Mo Xi.

Now Gu Mang seemed serene and undisturbed, as if he were looking at any guest who had entered his room in the past two years. He was devoid of any emotion Mo Xi recognized.

Somehow, it was a peaceful reunion.

The two of them gazed at each other for a while. Then Gu Mang walked over and sat down next to Mo Xi.

Perhaps because Mo Xi had never expected Gu Mang to move so calmly, he unconsciously shifted back, although his face remained impassive. "What..."

Gu Mang retrieved a little bamboo scroll from the table and handed it to him without a word.

Mo Xi didn't know what Gu Mang meant by this, but he took the scroll and opened it under the faint lamplight. When he skimmed through it, his blood boiled then ran cold.

In the end, he closed his eyes and slammed the scroll on the table.

The peace shattered.

"Gu Mang..." Mo Xi stared at him, still restraining himself-but the lava in his eyes surged as his knuckles cracked. "Have you lost your fucking mind?"

Gu Mang said, "You need to choose." His voice was smooth as satin, slightly husky and very deep. Again, he picked up the scroll and passed it to Mo Xi. "Choose something."

"What do you think I came here to do?!"

Gu Mang's vocabulary seemed to have been reduced to only one word: "Choose."

Mo Xi was angry enough to ascend, his chest heaving, his bright black eyes ferocious. The red within their depths grew deeper and deeper; fury, disappointment, hatred, and sorrow all reflected in the bloody crimson of his eyes.

He held that little bamboo scroll for a long time before he flung it back onto the table. The scroll fell open. Luomei Pavilion's prices Were meticulously displayed within, from conversation and com panionable drinking, to venting rage, abuse, and...and...

Mo Xi looked away.

"If you don't choose, then what should I do?"

Mo Xi was about to lose his mind, but still he endured. In truth, his temper was horribly explosive, but he had become a master at suppressing it. "What do you mean?" he ground out.

Gu Mang looked at him placidly, his eyes like the still waters of an ancient well. "Aren't you here to bed whores?"

Mo Xi's expression froze on his face. He couldn't believe some- one had actually said these words to him. He felt a twisting in his gut. "Gu Mang, you..."

"Everyone comes here to do these things," Gu Mang said. "If you haven't, why come?"

He pulled the scroll closer for the third time, picking it up and unfolding it for Mo Xi.

"Choose. Or leave."