Chapter 4: The Red Thread

A thin flush crept over Lin Shijin’s face. Sheng Rufei, unaware of what was happening, clung to him and refused to let go, and Lin Shijin felt he no longer had the face to see anyone.

“Sheng-shidi, you’re badly injured. Let go of Lin-shidi first. We’ll take you for treatment.”

“Sheng-shidi has been tainted by demonic poison. If we delay any further, he may fall into qi deviation.”

“Lin-shidi, do try to talk some sense into him!”

Lin Shijin: “…”

In the end one of the shixiongs could no longer bear watching. He struck the back of Sheng Rufei’s neck, knocking him clean out.

Even as Sheng Rufei collapsed, he was still gripping Lin Shijin’s wrist with astonishing strength. It took a great deal of effort to pry him off.

What followed was rather chaotic. As Sheng Rufei’s condition was the most serious, they decided to take him back first. Meanwhile, some disciples searching the other side of the cavern found the injured Xue Ning.

The three of them were bundled up and brought back together.

Xue Ning was still conscious, though pale. His robes were stained with blood, yet he looked surprisingly alert. A gloomy shadow rested over his handsome features, and the look he gave Lin Shijin was far from friendly. It was more like he wished to hack him and Sheng Rufei into pieces.

Now that Sheng Rufei had fainted, Lin Shijin alone had to bear Xue Ning’s stare. A chill ran down his spine, and he instinctively edged closer to Sheng Rufei.

They travelled back on a paper boat, drifting through thick white mist. Lin Shijin stared at his wrist. The moment he had touched the corner of Sheng Rufei’s lips, a red thread had appeared there.

The red thread seemed almost intangible. When he moved his hand, an extremely thin red line passed straight through the disciple beside him. He tried to touch it, but could not feel a thing.

A red thread was tied around his wrist… and the other end was tied to Sheng Rufei’s.

Originally it had been on Sheng Rufei’s heart, yet now it connected their two wrists. Outwardly Lin Shijin remained calm, but inwardly he was tense; he had no idea what the red thread meant.

The original novel had certainly never mentioned Sheng Rufei being connected to anyone by a red thread. But now the plot had already gone off the rails.

He tugged at the thread again. He still couldn’t touch it, but as he moved his wrist, the red thread automatically lengthened or shortened along with the movement.

Soon the paper boat arrived at Fuguang. Mist coiled around countless towering peaks. Sheng Rufei was taken to Yaoshi Peak, while Lin Shijin returned directly to Changgao Peak.

Sheng Rufei soon vanished from sight. Lin Shijin watched helplessly as the thread on his wrist stretched further and further, until it disappeared into the horizon.

He first went to Changming Hall, the main hall of Changgao Peak. It was where the immortal who had taken him in, Feng Rugao, resided.

Changming Hall, despite its name, was almost never lit. He knelt outside the pitch-dark hall; inside, a faint cool fragrance lingered, and at its centre stood a statue of Lord Changming.

“Disciple greets Shizun.”

Kneeling on the floor, he could vaguely make out a figure in the side hall. As his words fell, the door slid open, revealing the person within.

The original novel had little to say about Feng Rugao. As Sheng Rufei’s shizun, he was not part of the core romantic entanglements. A renowned sword immortal, Lord Changming. His temperament was mysterious and unfathomable, and he hovered at the very edge of the plot.

No lamps were lit in the side hall either. The man’s features were sharply handsome, but with a cold, distant cast. His eyes were far too indifferent, as if nothing in the world could touch him, all beings much of a muchness.

“You’ve returned?” Feng Rugao set down the book in his hand. His gaze rested on Lin Shijin’s face, pausing a moment.

Lin Shijin nodded. He had come, as always, to greet his shizun and report his safe return. It was one of Feng Rugao’s rules: whenever he came up from the foot of the mountain, he had to come here first.

“Was the training smooth?”

With his head slightly bowed, Lin Shijin felt as though Feng Rugao could see straight through him. Nervous, he could only speak honestly.

“It was acceptable… This disciple’s cultivation is shallow; I did not manage to hunt any demonic beasts.”

As for Sheng Rufei and Xue Ning, and the red thread on his wrist, he hesitated, then decided against mentioning any of it. Sheng Rufei should decide for himself how to explain his own matters, and as for the thread between them, he would ask Sheng Rufei once he woke up.

The hall was utterly silent. His words faded, and the atmosphere grew heavier still. With his head lowered, he could see the gold-edged embroidery on Feng Rugao’s robes, and the octagonal incense burner placed to one side.

“I heard from the Sword Pavilion elders that you have been late or have left early at least ten times this past month. Is this true?”

There were certainly not ten… barely three or four. He had struggled to adjust when he first joined the sect; occasionally he overslept morning sword practice, and once he had been delayed by Feng Rugao himself, which had led to the elders catching him late several times.

Lin Shijin of course could not argue. All disciples of Fuguang—especially Feng Rugao’s disciples—knew one iron rule: one must never contradict Lord Changming.

Otherwise… the consequences were best left unimagined.

“This disciple knows his mistake,” Lin Shijin said softly. If asked who he feared most in the sect, it was undoubtedly Feng Rugao.

He did not even know why. Feng Rugao did not appear as cold or unapproachable as Sheng Rufei; perhaps it was simply that his air was too deep, too unreadable… too dangerous.

“Since you acknowledge it, correct it henceforth,” Feng Rugao said lightly. “Copy the sect rules a thousand times and deliver them personally. After that, attend classes with your sixteenth shixiong.”

Lin Shijin’s head throbbed instantly. A thousand copies of the sect rules? And he had to attend lessons with Sheng Rufei? The very person who woke far earlier than the Sword Pavilion schedule? A punishment for oversleeping, apparently.

Not to mention things were still rather awkward between him and Sheng Rufei. Feeling somewhat aggrieved, he bowed after replying, then prepared to leave.

As he stood up, he found two medicine bottles placed into his sleeve. Feng Rugao’s doing… no doubt from noticing the bruises on his wrist.

Lin Shijin carried the medicine back to his courtyard. His and Sheng Rufei’s courtyards were adjacent, though not too close. Still, he doubted Sheng Rufei would return for another couple of days.

……

Two days passed quickly. The medicine was clearly effective; the bruising faded. The red thread on his wrist remained visible, still untouchable.

Sheng Rufei had returned to Changgao Peak. Lin Shijin planned to visit. There were many who came to see Sheng Rufei; even outside the courtyard he saw several people gathered.

Since Sheng Rufei had woken, shixiongs and shidis alike had come to visit him.

As for Xue Ning, the medicine he had given Sheng Rufei combined with the demonic beast’s poison, but with no concrete evidence he was not executed. Everyone on the peak knew there had long been discord between him and Sheng Rufei; this incident had escalated it. Xue Ning had been sent to the Forbidden Mountain by several elders, and would likely not come out for a year and a half.

Lin Shijin waited for a time when no one was around. The gate to the courtyard stood open. Sheng Rufei leaned against the bed frame, looking far healthier than before.

A faint look of confusion lingered on Sheng Rufei’s face; he was staring down at the red thread on his wrist. When he heard movement, he turned, and their gazes met.

Then Sheng Rufei’s gaze dropped slowly to the red thread on Lin Shijin’s wrist.

Both of them: “…”

For some inexplicable reason, being looked at like that made Lin Shijin feel faintly guilty. He quickly shook his head and straightened his posture. He was the one who had been taken advantage of. He ought to be the one asking questions.

“Sixteenth shixiong, have you recovered?” Lin Shijin cleared his throat as he approached the bed, trying to sound casual.

Sheng Rufei, still staring at the red thread, eventually withdrew his gaze and gave a cool “Mm.”

“Do you remember what happened the other day?” Lin Shijin noted that Sheng Rufei treated him as usual. If Sheng Rufei wasn’t embarrassed, why should he be?

Sheng Rufei gave another faint nod. His fingertips moved slightly. “I was bewitched by the demonic beast at the time. What I did to you… was not my intention. If you feel wronged, I will take responsibility for you in future.”

Absolutely not. He did not need responsibility of that sort.

“There’s no need,” Lin Shijin coughed twice, still slightly embarrassed but forcing himself to speak plainly. “No one else knows about it. Let’s simply pretend it never happened.”

Sheng Rufei answered with another indifferent “Mm.”

Lin Shijin let out a small sigh of relief, then remembered something.

“I went to see Shizun two days ago. I didn’t say anything about what happened. He told me to attend lessons with you from now on.”

Sheng Rufei replied, “Shizun has already sent me a transmission.”

“Oh,” Lin Shijin said. He fell quiet. Sheng Rufei did too. The room grew still again. He fiddled with the edge of his robe, then looked at the red thread on his wrist.

“You can see the red thread on our wrists, can’t you?”

Sheng Rufei’s eyes flickered. He looked down, contemplated for a moment, and said, “It appeared after I woke.”

It absolutely did not. It had appeared when they had kissed… though only a brief brush of lips.

Watching Sheng Rufei’s expression, Lin Shijin spoke carefully. “You were unconscious then, so you don’t know… but this red thread appeared when we touched.”

“I haven’t asked Shizun either. I assumed you might know.”

Visible yet intangible, tied between two people, seen only by the pair. Everything about it felt strange.

Sheng Rufei lowered his gaze once more, clearly understanding the implication: the red thread had appeared the moment they became intimate. But at the time, in his muddled state, he had noticed nothing.

“Originally it was on your heart. Later it appeared on both our wrists. Visible, but untouchable…”

Lin Shijin continued speaking, while Sheng Rufei, lost in thought, reached out with his other hand to touch the thread.

And then something astonishing happened.

Sheng Rufei’s fingers touched the red thread. His pale fingertips brushed it, and the thread yielded, changing shape slightly in the air.

The next moment, Lin Shijin felt a powerful tug. An invisible force dragged him forward; his body swayed, and he nearly fell straight into Sheng Rufei’s arms.

Sheng Rufei’s fingers paused.

The red thread shifted beneath his touch, and every change manifested on Lin Shijin. The thread unwound from Lin Shijin’s wrist and climbed upwards.

Finally, it wrapped itself around his neck… and finishing with a neat little bow.

“…”

Lin Shijin: “!!?”