13: Life.

The night-hunt was fairly straightforward as they went. There was no mystery, no ghosts seeking revenge for their deaths nor offended wood spirits making people go insane. These were all things Jisung had learned from the books and had been absolutely ready to face.

A village sat in the middle of a forest, and there were missing villagers close to a crossroads that led to other villages. There was nothing to be found of the people lost, except for blood on the ground. And what seemed to have been huge loose scales.

After receiving the village chief's emotional instructions, finding the location and the monster was not difficult. Jisung would have run the entire distance if Minho had not put his foot down and forced Jisung to walk behind him; protected by Master Minho's imposing back.

“What’s the point in taking me with you if I can’t even do anything, Minho? Are you going to stop me the entire time?” he whined.

“The hunt is for the juniors. We will interfere if necessary,” Minho replied.

It made sense. Jisung still huffed in displeasure. “I should’ve asked you to take me alone.”

“Mn. Next time.”

Despite this, Jisung was sort of glad he got to watch. He expected it to be similar to the first time he went to the zoo and saw a real hippo without a television screen between them. Terrifying, but also fascinating.

He glanced over at the disciplines fighting against a monster that looked like,

“Is that a.. is that a snake?” he asked, part delighted, part mortified. His eyes were probably the size of plates.

“A double-headed serpent,” one of the kids replied helpfully.

The juniors wasted no time in their attack, swinging their swords at the massive green-brown reptile that was hissing and spitting something that resembled acid and sizzled when it hit the ground.

Jisung was practically buzzing with energy as he attempted to take a step closer but was quickly pulled back by Minho, who was used to this by now.

The kids circled the snake, sending talismans and dodging the two heads with practised leaps. The fighting style of Geumgangsan appeared effortless, even when it was not executed by Minho. Very graceful and firm. 

Jisung’s learned style was very unpredictable, Minho had told him. Well, ‘erratic’ was the word he had used, but then Jisung had actually gotten him to yield for once, so that must’ve been what Minho had really meant.

“Minho, won’t you let me fight it?” he asked, tugging at the white sleeves of the man. “Haven’t the kids had their fun already? Please?”

Please seem to really be the magic word here. Minho’s eyes were just a tad widened as he looked at Jisung, and then, with a slight nod, the permission was given. Jisung’s smile was radiant.

He wasted no time in jumping in, literally, with a double-flip he now knew how to do, because cultivation was amazing and he could leap around like a ninja.

The fight didn’t last very long after he joined. He’d always had good reflexes, and his sword skills really were exemplary. The juniors had to take a few steps back to give room to his swirling and jumping and swinging, but they didn’t seem discouraged.

It was the other way, really. Maybe an authority figure joining them made them feel safer, and more willing to go head-first into the serpent’s head zone.

Jisung leaped onto the snake's scaly back with ease and slashed the sword through one of its heads, laughing hysterically. At the same time, the juniors took care of the other one.

The monster slumped down, instantly dead. Jisung laughed and his shoulders heaved, partially from the exertion and partly from the adrenaline rush. This was so much fun. He didn’t remember when he’d had this much fun last.

“Minho, did you see that!” he called, running to the man who was still standing quietly to the side, one hand on his sword’s hilt and the other one behind his back.

Minho’s expression might have been a little pleased if Jisung could read him at all. If he had to guess, the look in his eyes was almost soft. He didn’t even step back as Jisung invaded his personal space.

“Jisung did well.”

Jisung clutched his heart. “Ahh, Minho, you can’t say that so earnestly! How is my poor heart supposed to take that? Now compliment the kids as well!”

“Mn. The juniors also did well.”

The words had the same effect on the kids as well, but they hid their red faces by bowing and thanking their master for his kind words.

Jisung couldn’t stop smiling the entire way to the camp.

_________

Back in the Geumgangsan they quickly fell into the familiar routine; Minho on his duties during daytime meanwhile Jisung made an attempt to not cause a disturbance, often with great success. He really liked reading the books here. He couldn’t remember the time he’d picked up a book back home when it wasn’t for school.

Jisung sometimes wondered if it was bad how quickly he’d gotten used to the drastic change of scenery and lifestyle. He felt like he was on a vacation.

Sometimes in the evenings, when Jisung was spread out onto the floor of the meditating room, listening to Minho practice songs with his gayageum, he felt the guilt creeping at the edges of his heart.

He wanted to miss the life he’d left. He wanted to miss the university and all the rush that came with it, and he wanted to miss the cramped apartment and busy streets and fast food and television. Mostly he just missed the people. The ones he was allowed to, and the ones he was not.

There were things in the modern world that were more convenient, of course. Like showers instead of bathtubs where you had to carry the water in yourself. And the variety of foods, and instant coffee, and the knowledge of the existence of other countries.

But here, in Geumgangsan, everything was beautiful. The buildings, the nature, the people. There were no police sirens going off at night, no pollution of any kind, the fog nor the light kind. He could hear his own thoughts, he could breathe, he could watch the stars at night.

And he really… really liked Minho.

While Jisung wasn’t especially hung up on having set routines or things being comfortably familiar to him, he liked that there was this one constant. That if he felt a bit like he might falter, there was a presence next to him that would not give out.

He’d never really had that. His foster parents were strict and their sons, his brothers were forced to follow them. His friends, no matter how much he liked them, had their own things to worry about.

Jisung believed that he would be staying here for the next few months because of Minho. That Minho would not cast him out or back away because he had promised, and if there was anyone in all of existence whose word was trustworthy, it was Minho’s.

He thought that kind of integrity was one in a million. Jisung, personally, was shit at keeping his word. The guilt gnawed to the melody of the gayageum strings ringing.

“What's the song?” Jisung asked once, a while after the night-hunt. He was lying on his side near the table, the tea set still out because he had not bothered to put it away in case he felt like having another cup.

Minho was playing by the doors that opened to the backyard, the view serene like from a painting. The tune was unique and even though it eased Jisung's heartache, it made it even more tender. Something beautiful, like yearning.

Long fingers stopped on the strings, but only momentarily. 

“It is not ready yet.” Minho said, not answering the question and managing to get Jisung’s interest.

“You composed it?” he asked, amazed. “It’s beautiful, Minho! You truly have a gift.”

The tips of Minho’s ears turned light pink. “Mn.”

“Wow. You know, my foster mother made us try out plenty of instruments as a kid. I sucked at most of them, but I kind of liked trying.” Jisung mused. "I kept trying, but my playing is still awful! You play so well it makes the rest of us ashamed.”

“We have many spare instruments, if Jisung wants to play.” Minho said, his fingers are still working on the melody.

Jisung began to pay attention now, and he saw the strange way the notes began and then paused before the next one. A work in process.

“That could be fun, right? I have a year. Well, like, ten months. There is more than enough time to review my skills!”

Minho's hands froze once more, and it took some time for them to move again. Jisung felt a throbbing pain.

“I...” Minho started, hesitatingly. “Jisung doesn’t often talk about his life prior.”

Jisung evaded. “What do you mean, I don’t? I talk about the modern world all the time. Often you tell me to stop because you hate that we’re so loose and immoral back there.”

Dodging the real question would usually result in the conversation being cut short, but Minho was persistent today.

“You do not mention your personal life.” Minho emphasised.

Jisung sighed regretfully. “There’s not a lot to mention, Minho. I was a business student, so that meant a lot of maths and diagrams and pie charts. Very boring stuff.”

“You did not enjoy your scholarly path.”

“No, I didn’t. It was very...not me. I wanted to be a change in the world, you know? Help people. You can’t do that with the career path I had in mind.”

“...Career path.”

Jisung fiddled with the sleeves of his robes, nice and black. Minho had noticed he preferred the colour and ordered more of them. His under robes were still white, but he’d taken the red ribbon that closed his perfume pouch and tied his hair with it.

“My younger brother, Felix, was going to take over the family business at some point, and I promised to stand by him in that. Become, like, his right-hand man. And for that, I needed a business degree.”

Minho’s gaze was on him, searching. Jisung focused on the embroidery in his sleeves.

“That’s not going to happen, now after…. um, I don’t think I’ll get to study there now after going silent for a year. So I need to start thinking of other options.” Jisung mused.

“I see.” was Minho’s reply, merciful in its lack of clarifying questions.

“What about you? I know how you spend your days now, but what was it like before I showed up?” Jisung pulled himself up onto his forearms, turning to look at Minho.

“The same.” Minho replied. Didn’t elaborate.

“Minho,” Jisung groaned. “Say more.”

Minho remained silent, only playing the melody, but Jisung recognized this as one of his contemplative silences.

“Before Jisung,” Minho said, finally. “I preferred silence and solidarity. I had not realised that conversations might be just as enjoyable.”

A small flushed smile spread across Jisung’s face. “Minho! I thought you only tolerated my constant chatter!"

Minho shook his head slightly. “Jisung is entertaining.”

Jisung wanted to ask more, but he chose to change the subject and instead let the music soothe him into contentment, the warmth of the complement spreading throughout him. Then, after the last note, Minho spoke,

“Jisung...” he sounded a bit hesitant. “You talk about yourself and your family separately.”

Oh, right.

“My parents died when I was young,” Jisung explained. “I was taken in by a foster family. My foster mother hated me. I wasn’t really their kid, but their kids were my siblings because we grew up together. So that’s why.”

He stared at the dark wooden ceiling. It was nothing like the one in his childhood room, the one he shared with Jeongin and Felix because neither of them liked to sleep alone.

“I am sorry.” Minho said. “About your parents.”

Jisung shrugged. “It’s fine. I don’t even really remember them. Though I’m told I have my mother’s smile.”

Minho nodded. After a moment of silence he spoke, “My parents have also passed. Mother when I was young. Father a few years ago.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, Minho.”

Jisung imagined what it would have been like to have a stronger memory of his parents, as Minho did. He was not sure whether knowing them before they were taken away would have been better or worse. The evening air was getting cooler as it streamed in from the open doorway.

He shook his head. “Minho, how about you play something a little happier, huh? How about I hum you a melody and you copy me?”

Minho nodded, strangely obedient. So Jisung hummed a song, lyrics-free version of a recent top hit about twerking, typical him. While Minho played with his shiny gayageum.

Later, when Jisung revealed this to him, Minho used the silencing technique on him for the first time to stop him from recounting the words to the song. So, all in all, a productive night.