Meet You Again

Seeking follows for the upcoming novel A Guide to Taking the Throne as a Martial Uncle, below this blurb

Childhood friends, reunited after a falling-out, with an older ruler as the pursuer.

Eleven years ago, little Shen Li was idling away his days at the Tianji Pavilion on Qiyang Mountain when he met Wen Yuming, young lord of Yueli.

Sixteen-year-old Young Lord Wen was a fine young gentleman, delicate and frail, with a faint air of melancholy. He captured the heart of twelve-year-old Shen Li at once.

The young boy's first stirrings of love began then.

Little Shen Li tried every trick he could think of, throwing tantrums and making a scene, desperate to keep Wen Yuming from leaving.

But the young lord, heir to a powerful family, eventually chose to descend the mountain and return home to fight for power.

Eleven years later, clutching the Tianji Order that authorized him to meddle in Yueli's affairs of state, Shen Li walked toward the imperial capital beneath the pitying, regretful gazes of the crowd.

“The previous Tianji Envoy died under suspicious circumstances. How dare the Tianji Pavilion send someone else?”

“What a pity. So young, and already doomed to die.”

Shen Li paid them no mind. All he knew was that behind those gold-and-red brick walls was the person he had longed for over eleven years.

In the golden palace, Shen Li stood among the ministers prostrated on the ground and looked up, meeting the gaze that had remained fixed on him.

Time left its mark in that moment.

The childhood nemesis had grown into a handsome, gentle young man.

But the once upright and proper Young Lord Wen had become a tyrannical ruler, one whose name inspired fear.

Hearing Wen Yuming ask coldly, “Why is it you?”

Shen Li gave a soft laugh. “The Tianji Order commands it. I dare not disobey.”

Yet late at night, when they were alone, he picked up a lock of Wen Yuming's black hair where it lay against his chest. Clinging close, he said, “Of course it would be me, Brother Zili. I've come to collect a debt.”

Wen Yuming looked at the little rascal coldly. “What debt?”

Shen Li leaned close to his ear, his breath fragrant as orchids, and enunciated each word: “A debt of love.”

Shen Li was full of confidence. He had spent ages carefully planning that move and that reply. Surely his thin-skinned Brother Zili wouldn't be able to withstand such a one-two punch!

But then an arm tightened around his waist. His face collided with the chest he remembered as slender, now firm with muscle. Wen Yuming's voice rang in his ear, ruthless and possessive: “Remember, you chose this yourself.”

At the darkest point in his life, Wen Yuming met a little nemesis who barged in carrying sunshine.

He fought to keep himself from dragging the boy into his darkness, even if it meant falling back into the abyss alone.

But he never expected the boy to bring his light and jump down to keep him company.

If that was how it would be, then he would never let go of this light, which he could keep all to himself.

Eleven years ago, sixteen-year-old Wen Yuming, an upright and proper young gentleman, watched as the boy called Shen Li carefully counted out his spring lotus candies, one by one. Then Shen Li pushed half toward him, waved a little hand, and declared with great generosity, “There are seventy-three in all. We each get thirty-six. You're a guest, so you can have the extra one.”

Wen Yuming's good manners made him swallow the words, “But I paid for these candies,” and accept little Shen Li's “generosity.”

Eleven years later, twenty-seven-year-old Wen Yuming, now a tyrant who did as he pleased, silently pushed a plate piled high with spring lotus candies toward Shen Li. When Shen Li looked at him questioningly, he said in a low voice, “You're a guest. They're all yours.”

But the little scoundrel from back then pushed the candies away, then boldly drew close despite the chill of the tyrant's presence. In a sweet, soft voice, he said, “But, Brother Zili, I don't want to be your guest. I want to be your wife.”

Wen Yuming's hand trembled beneath his sleeve. He closed his eyes and accepted his fate.

He hadn't been a match for this boy eleven years ago, and he still wasn't one now.

Wen Yuming (top) x Shen Li (bottom)

A brooding, brutal ruler, cool on the outside and secretly passionate within, top x a beauty with a healing touch, who talks a bold game but is pure-hearted inside and judges by looks, bottom

Reader's Guide:

1. This story is bottom-focused and told from the bottom's perspective.

2. Childhood friends reunite after a falling-out. The first part features them as children; the later part follows their reunion eleven years after their friendship broke apart. The story is told in chronological order.

3. A fictional setting with fantasy elements, but it is neither cultivation nor purely court politics.

4. There is a cannon-fodder top.

Seeking follows for the upcoming novel A Guide to Taking the Throne as a Martial Uncle

[Martial Uncle Becomes Master, Top x Reincarnated Little Disciple, with the Martial Uncle Taking the Upper Hand in Every Way]

As the last disciple of Chu Mu, the cold and indifferent Immortal Venerable Lingxiao,

Jing Xi had always carefully concealed his admiration for his master and strictly observed the boundaries between master and disciple.

He knew that as the greatest cultivator under heaven, Chu Mu had room in his heart only for all living beings.

So when Chu Mu pushed him into the rift in the sky, Jing Xi was surprised, yet relieved. Then he did the one improper thing he had ever done in his life:

He leaned forward and gently brushed his master's thin lips with his own. Then he let himself be swept into the rift in the sky and torn apart.

Pain tore through his whole body. He thought he heard someone cry out in anguish, and saw a ray of light fly toward him from the mouth of the rift.

But Jing Xi could no longer make sense of it. All he could think was:

It wasn't a bad deal, but I don't want to go through that again.

When Jing Xi opened his eyes again, he had become an ordinary boy with a mixed spiritual root. He had no chance of joining Xuanyang Mountain in this life.

Just as he was preparing to settle down and become one of the many lives waiting to be saved, a Daoist came to his door.

The Daoist had a defiant, unruly face, yet was doing his best to look aloof and refined as he asked:

“Young man, I can see that you have extraordinary bones and tremendous talent. Would you like to become my disciple, my last disciple?”

Jing Xi stared at him. The cry he had heard just before dying gradually became clear in his mind.

His voice hoarse, he softly called the man, “Martial Uncle.”

Yu Zheng's expression stiffened. His gentle false facade crumbled, revealing the irreverent man beneath.

He rubbed his nose and blinked. “You haven't lost your memories, then. So, can I have a chance this time, Xiao Xi?”

Chu Mu, the Immortal Venerable Lingxiao, had always known that his youngest disciple loved him. He neither rejected nor acknowledged it.

Too many people loved him; there were too many admiring gazes. Jing Xi was only one of them.

There was no need for him to respond, and he had no time to. The rift in the sky had always threatened this world, and he had no time to respond to such feelings.

He devised plan after plan and finally found a way to mend the rift in the sky.

But at the crucial moment, something went wrong. In the split second he had, he could only push his little disciple, whose body had already been turned into spiritual energy, into the formation meant to repair it.

The formation stabilized. His little disciple was swept into the rift in the sky, leaving him only a gentle kiss.

The rift in the sky closed successfully, and Chu Mu attained sainthood.

But he alone knew that an irreparable rift had opened in his heart.

Three thousand years later, Chu Mu followed the clues and found his reincarnated little disciple.

But he saw the boy throw himself into his junior brother's arms, happily calling him “Master.”

Chu Mu, now a revered saint of heaven and earth, felt boundless darkness spread through the crack in his heart.

Theme: Take control of your own destiny.