Chapter 5: Wife Falls From The Sky

The atmosphere in the room froze for a heartbeat. The difference between neither of them being able to touch the red thread and only him being unable to touch it was worlds apart.

Sheng Rufei’s fingertips were still resting on the thread; it was obvious he had done something.

Lin Shijin bristled. He reached up to touch the red thread at his neck, but his fingers passed straight through it. The thread itself didn’t tighten. Instead, as though it possessed a life of its own, it brushed lightly against the small mole on his collarbone.

“Hurry up and undo it,” Lin Shijin said irritably. “What’s going on? Why are you the only one who can touch the red thread?”

Sheng Rufei’s fingers twitched, a glimmer of curiosity flickering in his eyes. The thread retreated from Lin Shijin’s neck, curling itself gently around his own wrist.

“It’s this,” Sheng Rufei said, drawing two yellowed sheets of paper from inside his robes. The thread earlier that had emerged from right over his heart had come straight out of these.

“The marriage contract carries a soul-bond between us. To dissolve the marriage contract, we must first sever the soul-bond. I don’t know how.”

Lin Shijin caught Sheng Rufei’s unspoken implication. “A month ago you said we could only divorce once you’d taken your revenge. Was that because of the soul-bond?”

Sheng Rufei hummed an acknowledgement. He spread the two yellowed marriage documents open and pointed to the talismans. “This is the soul-bond. Originally, the two sigils were separate.”

Lin Shijin followed his finger. He couldn’t read talismanic script, but he could clearly see that the two soul-seals were now tightly entwined, tangled together as though they refused to part.

“Why didn’t you say so earlier?” Lin Shijin grumbled.

If he’d known there was a soul-bond, he’d have removed that first. Who would have thought a single kiss would trigger it? He still didn’t know what it actually did, but it was plainly bad for him.

After all, the control lay in Sheng Rufei’s hands.

Sheng Rufei said nothing.

Lin Shijin more or less knew why. They had almost never interacted before, and the marriage had been begged for by the original owner’s parents. Sheng Rufei, remembering his own parents’ instructions, hadn’t dissolved the contract. And given his personality, he rarely explained anything anyway.

“Does Shizun have a method?”

“I asked him years ago,” Sheng Rufei replied. “He said the soul-bond on the marriage contract cannot be interfered with by anyone else. Only the two bound can sever it.”

So they had to sort it out themselves?

Lin Shijin felt his headache returning. After thinking for a moment, he said, “I can’t touch the red thread. Only you can.”

“Out there, we’ll stay as ordinary shixiong-di. If either of us finds a way to break the bond, we’ll come find the other. But until then.. don’t touch the red thread…”

Before he could finish, Sheng Rufei, face perfectly blank, tugged lightly at the thread.

Lin Shijin’s entire body swayed with it.

“Sheng Rufei.” Lin Shijin, thrown off balance, flushed with anger. “Did you hear a word I said?”

“Three rules,” he continued, exasperated. “First, no one else needs to know about our relationship. We maintain the appearance of normal shixiong-di in the sect.”

After all, Sheng Rufei was the centre of a veritable battlefield. If anyone found out, he’d definitely get dragged into trouble. And who knew if his original-novel ending would replay itself.

“Second, the soul-bond is under your control. You’re not allowed to fiddle with the red thread.”

Otherwise he would be the one suffering for it.

As for the third… he hadn’t not thought of it yet. He said, “Um, I’ll tell you when I figure out the third one.”

Sheng Rufei raised no objection. Lin Shijin found a sheet of paper, wrote down the two rules… one copy each. His handwriting was the usual wobbly scrawl, like a dog had dragged a stick across the page.

Sheng Rufei’s expression had only been mildly cool before, but after stamping the agreement, he returned at once to his usual icy indifference.

Lin Shijin: “…” So that had counted as giving him a pleasant expression just now?

Half annoyed and half amused, head still buzzing, he didn’t linger in Sheng Rufei’s courtyard and soon returned to his own.

On the way back, the red thread on his wrist remained still. It seemed Sheng Rufei kept his word.

Sitting at his desk, he looked again at the thread. His earlier resentment faded. It wasn’t that bad. After all, he trusted Sheng Rufei’s character.

Sheng Rufei was reserved, strict with himself, and a man who honoured his word. He wasn’t someone who would go back on a promise or take advantage of him through the soul-bond.

A silver mirror lay on the table. He leaned on his hand and looked at himself. This body really did look exactly like him. The original marriage contract was between Sheng Rufei and the original owner… so why did the soul-bond affect him?

He couldn’t possibly be the original owner. He’d lived a full life in the real world.

The candlelight cast warm shadows across his features. Both the mole on his collarbone and the one on his earlobe were present, in exactly the same positions. The glow of the flame lent him an almost seductive colour.

He glanced down at the scrapes he’d received a few days earlier. His calves were smooth and pale again, the marks gone without a trace. He had already noticed that any injury on the original owner’s body involving blood would mysteriously vanish.

He lowered his trouser leg again. Though stressed about the soul-bond, another impending worry struck him: he would have to go to the Sword Pavilion in two days. With Sheng Rufei.

Sheng Rufei rose before half-past five every morning. Lessons at the Sword Pavilion began at half-past seven.

It was a whole shichen* earlier… which means two hours earlier than necessary.

(*TN: one shichen is two hours.)

Lin Shijin slumped over the desk with a sigh. He hated waking up early, and Feng Rugao was terrifying. Copying the sect rules a thousand times… he felt sleepy just thinking about it.

Before long, he fell asleep right there.

…

In another courtyard.

After Lin Shijin left, Sheng Rufei rose from the bed. With the gate closed, he still had texts to sort through. As Feng Rugao’s disciple, he bore many responsibilities on the peak.

A candle burned on the desk, filling the room with light. The red thread coiled softly around his wrist. He copied a passage, then paused, eyes resting on the thread.

His cold features shifted subtly, a thoughtful look softening his gaze.

He reached towards the thread, then halted mid-air and slowly withdrew.

He resumed copying. After a quarter of an hour, the thread stirred, tightening faintly, its shape shifting.

He watched as the thread lengthened and shrank, gradually weaving itself into a tiny red-thread figure.

The little figure walked about, then sat down. Another strand unfurled into a mirror, and the figure propped up its chin, admiring its reflection.

Sheng Rufei stared, surprise flickering in his eyes. It didn’t take long to recognise who it depicted. The thread had even formed clothes and hair.

After preening for a while, the little figure rolled up its trouser leg, examined its calf, then slumped over a table with a sigh.

Its gestures were uncannily lifelike, almost perfectly mimicked.

Sheng Rufei watched closely. The little figure lay motionless for a good while, clearly asleep.

His expression remained cold. He reached out and tapped the figure gently with a fingertip.

It didn’t react, merely shifting slightly, still fast asleep.

As he sorted through the texts, he lifted his eyes now and then to the little figure, which was endlessly fidgety. It was lazing about, playing with this and that.

The thread shifted with it, sometimes turning into pastries the figure munched on, sometimes a soft couch upon which it lounged, reading with its legs crossed.

After observing for an hour, Sheng Rufei understood. The thread still connected to his wrist, the soul-bond sigils still tightly entwined.

Obviously, the little misshapen red-thread figure was none other than his seemingly boneless shidi.

Several times he reached out to straighten its posture, only to remember his promise and draw back.

He stood. The little figure stood as well, still engrossed in its own activities, always hovering near him thanks to the connecting thread.

Reserved as he was, he rarely displayed emotion. But he understood: this was the effect of the soul-bond. More than once he wanted to touch the little figure, but he restrained himself.

So he didn’t move.

The figure followed him everywhere… even when he stepped into the cold spring. With closed eyes, he could still sense it nearby; upon opening them, he saw it sprawled on the couch, reading.

It laughed at something, then rolled straight off the couch.

Utterly idiotic.

Sheng Rufei frowned, instinctively reaching out. The moment his fingers brushed the figure, white light burst before his eyes.

The cold spring rippled violently.

……

Lin Shijin, having barely slept, jolted awake. His arm was numb. After eating a couple of pastries, he sprawled on his couch to read a picture-book he’d bought during his travels. He wasn’t close to the other disciples, and no one played with him.

It was all illustrations that were far more interesting than ordinary storybooks. And he’d spent nearly all his spirit stones on them. He was completely absorbed.

With no one else around, his posture was atrocious: half sprawling, half kneeling, laughing aloud at the funny bits, all thoughts of early rising forgotten.

He read on for some time. Just as he was about to roll off the couch again and before he could react…

Everything spun. His picture-book vanished. A completely different scene appeared.

He heard water. A heartbeat later, freezing cold enveloped him, and he shivered violently. Unable to understand what was happening, instinctively afraid of water, he clung at once to the only warmth in reach.

With a splash, Lin Shijin plunged under. He swallowed cold water and coughed violently, his hands grasping at warm skin.

His eyelashes were dripping. Dazed and breathless, he looked up…

…straight into Sheng Rufei’s cold, breathtakingly beautiful face.