Chapter 10: Begging Shixiong

Lin Shijin dreamt that the red thread took advantage of his sleep to wriggle about on him, first winding around his neck, then his chest, and then……

He woke at once and went to check the red thread on his wrist. It was still wrapped quietly around his wrist, the little raised arc unchanged, looking no different from usual.

Relieved, he set the strange dream aside. If he got up two days earlier, then once he set off for training he wouldn’t need to rise so early.

It was still dark outside. Beyond his courtyard he saw a familiar silhouette. Sheng Rufei came every day without fail. He never knew at what hour, only that every morning, Sheng Rufei was there when he stepped out.

“Sixteenth shixiong, I’ll be going down the mountain with Su-shixiong and the others in a few days. You won’t need to come and wake me.”

He had already arranged things with Jing Qiuhong. The Su-shixiong he mentioned was Su Lian, a disciple under the sect leader. Although the sect leader and their shizun, Feng Rugao, had never got on, the disciples under both men were on quite good terms.

Once in the city, he and Jing Qiuhong would visit the bookshops together, and besides that, there were plenty of places they could go for fun.

He was delighted at the thought of being on his own. If he went with Sheng Rufei, he certainly wouldn’t be so free. Sheng Rufei was forever full of rules.

Sheng Rufei listened quietly, then said, “I will accompany both of you on the training trip.”

“Shizun instructed me to look after you.”

There it was. Lin Shijin couldn’t hide his feelings; his expression visibly dimmed.

He glanced at the youth before him and, pretending to speak casually, said, “Shixiong, Su Lian-shixiong and the others can manage me perfectly well. You don’t need to come along; it’ll only delay your sword practice and waste your time.”

“This is Shizun’s order.” Sheng Rufei’s gaze lingered on him for a moment, his voice cool.

Lin Shijin was terrified of Feng Rugao; he would never dare go and negotiate with him. In fact, he didn’t even want to step foot in Changming Hall again.

“When I go down the mountain, I want to buy books with Jing Qiuhong. Will you be following me then as well, shixiong?”

Sheng Rufei replied, “The sect has rules. During training, disciples may not leave the grounds.”

Besides, his cultivation was low; he couldn’t simply leave him to wander about the city. If he went missing, there would be trouble.

“That rule’s from ages ago! Which training trip has ever had disciples who stayed put?” he muttered under his breath.

Sheng Rufei said nothing more. Once he made a decision, he did not retract it.

The two walked in single file, Lin Shijin slightly deflated. With Sheng Rufei trailing behind, what was the point of buying books? Sheng Rufei would probably deem everything he bought obscene and confiscate his little picture-books.

When they reached the Sword Pavilion, he told Jing Qiuhong about it.

Jing Qiuhong was also terrified of Sheng Rufei. Especially recently. Whenever he spoke to Lin Shijin, Sheng Rufei would always give him a faint, glacial glance. It made the back of his neck go cold.

“Why don’t you go and talk to him? Sheng-shixiong usually turns a blind eye when leading disciples. Maybe he’s only strict because you’re his shidi.”

“Go and beg him a bit. Perhaps he might make an exception.”

Lin Shijin felt Jing Qiuhong had a point, so after classes at the Sword Pavilion ended, he went to the Scripture Pavilion and exchanged some spirit stones for his favourite pastries, preparing to seek out Sheng Rufei.

Though Feng Rugao was strict with him, he sent him plenty of spirit stones each month. It was enough for him to spend freely, with some left over.

He had no idea what Sheng Rufei liked. Sheng Rufei did nothing besides practise the sword, and because he was in grain-abstinence*, Lin Shijin had barely seen him eat at all.

(*TN: grain-abstinence is not a diet; it is a spiritual detox and a metabolic transformation. It represents a cultivator’s first concrete step to sever their dependence on the physical, mortal world, allowing them to build a body of pure energy suitable for ascending to immortality.)

Arms full of pastries, he stood outside Sheng Rufei’s courtyard, wondering how to begin. He actually wanted Sheng Rufei not to follow him… but that was unlikely. He could only try to persuade Sheng Rufei to turn a blind eye, since disciples weren’t supposed to leave the grounds during training trips down the mountain.

But the rule was mostly for show. What disciple wasn’t curious about the world below? It was generally understood that they could go out to trade for things, so long as they didn’t linger too long.

It was said that in all these years, the only one who had obeyed the rule was Sheng Rufei. Sheng Rufei seemed wholly uninterested in the Three Thousand Worlds and had never once violated sect regulations.

He was practically Fuguang Sect’s model disciple in the flesh.

Inside the room, Sheng Rufei watched the little fellow outside, arms heaped with things, pacing back and forth at his gate, clearly torn over something.

He didn’t know what he was carrying, though he soon found out. It was pastries, because while hesitating, the youth absent-mindedly fished out two pieces and popped them into his mouth.

Then he watched him free a hand and knock on the door. The courtyard gate sounded.

Lin Shijin, in his dithering, had eaten two pieces by accident. He glanced down at his pile. Thankfully, it wasn’t obvious. One or two missing wouldn’t matter. Relieved, he knocked.

The gate opened. Sheng Rufei stood there without his outer robe, white hair falling by his sides. His cold, striking face was expressionless. His gaze landed on Lin Shijin, then on the pastries in his arms.

Lin Shijin called, “Shixiong,” met Sheng Rufei’s eyes, and pushed the pastries forward. “Sixteenth shixiong, these are for you.”

“I specially went to the Scripture Pavilion to buy them for you.”

He pressed the pastries forward, but Sheng Rufei didn’t take them. Instead, his gaze fell upon Lin Shijin’s lips, pausing for a moment.

Instinctively, Lin Shijin touched the side of his lips… and felt a crumb.

“…”

The air froze slightly. Lin Shijin felt a little embarrassed, his cheeks colouring. Seeing Sheng Rufei’s perpetually indifferent expression, he braced himself and wiped the crumb away.

Sheng Rufei stepped aside to let him enter. Lin Shijin followed him in and placed the pastries on the table. There were ancient texts on the table as well. He glanced at them. They looked familiar, like the texts the elders lectured on.

“Shixiong, what are you doing?” he asked off-handedly.

“Organising ancient texts.”

Lin Shijin gave an “Oh.” He’d only asked casually; the main purpose of his visit was to discuss something else. Feeling a bit awkward, he looked at the red thread on Sheng Rufei’s wrist and tentatively began:

“Shixiong, I came because there’s something I wanted to discuss with you.”

Meeting Sheng Rufei’s gaze, he said, “I’ve been cooped up on the mountain all day, except for last time. This time I want to walk around a little. They said that in the past, when you led disciples on training, you never blamed them for going out.”

As he spoke, he sneaked a glance at Sheng Rufei. “Shixiong, could you make an exception? I only want to buy some pastries and picture-books. I won’t wander.”

Hearing this, Sheng Rufei recalled that the youth seemed fond of picture-books. He said, “Your cultivation is low. If you encounter danger in the city, you will have no ability to defend yourself.”

This was the result of not practising the sword properly.

Lin Shijin had actually been fairly diligent this past month. He’d been practising swordsmanship and had barely learnt sword-flight, as well as various escape spells he was reasonably good at. Even so, he was still far from capable.

“I’ve learnt lots of escape spells. If I meet danger, I can run.”

“With such a difference in cultivation, running is useless.”

The other would catch up instantly; running would achieve nothing.

“But no one’s trying to kill me. I’ve no grudges with anyone…” Lin Shijin thought of his original fate, though his marriage contract with Sheng Rufei was at present unknown to anyone.

“Besides, we have a soul-bond. If I don’t return on time, you can just use it to summon me back.”

Sheng Rufei looked at him, gaze lingering for a moment, expression still cool. “We made a pact. I may not touch the red thread.”

“The pact only says you can’t touch it at will. Special circumstances can be exceptions,” Lin Shijin said, his mind wholly occupied with the idea of Sheng Rufei not following him. “If I don’t come back, just use the soul-bond to summon me.”

Sheng Rufei looked at him and asked, “I may touch the red thread?”

Lin Shijin: “Yes.”

“If you do not return, I will summon you back with the soul-bond. If you break the rules, I may touch the red thread under special circumstances.”

Sheng Rufei gazed at him quietly, emotion unchanged.

Lin Shijin felt that it all made sense, though something about it was faintly odd. Still, since Sheng Rufei had essentially agreed, he tossed the thought aside.

“That’s fine then.” He nodded, his mood brightening, and cheerfully added, “The pastries are really good. You should try some later.

“Shixiong, I’ll head back.”

With that, he left. As he stepped out of the courtyard, he failed to notice that the red thread around his wrist had quietly turned into a bow, fluttering happily with every step he took.

Sheng Rufei sat alone at the table. The pastries the youth had brought were still there. They were all top-grade from the Scripture Pavilion. He had noticed that the youth spent money freely and clearly didn’t lack spirit stones.

The youth himself had never taken on missions and didn’t know how hard spirit stones were to earn. Presumably, they were supplied by his shizun, allowing him to spend as he pleased.

Feng Rugao had always been strict with his disciples. His fellow shixiongs and shijies*, himself included, had never received spirit stones from him; they’d had to earn them on their own.

(*TN: senior martial sisters.)

Although he had some savings, he rarely spent spirit stones on pastries.

Sheng Rufei’s gaze fell on the pile of pastries, recalling how the youth was always cheerful when hugging them.

It seemed that simply eating delicious pastries made him happy.

The pastries were exquisite, carved with intricate cloud patterns, and came in many flavours. Sheng Rufei’s expression remained cold as he picked one up and placed it in his mouth.

So sweet.

The pastry melted between his teeth, and the red thread on his wrist turned into the little figure once more. The little figure returned to its own courtyard and rummaged about, looking for something, eventually producing a small pile of broken silver.

Spirit stones were worth far more than silver; one could exchange them for a considerable amount. The little figure sat there, legs swinging slowly while it counted the silver with delight. When it was done, it rested its chin on its hand, looking crestfallen.

Sheng Rufei understood. It was out of money.

…

Author’s Note:

The dream was fake. At present, little Sheng only dares to let the red thread rub against Mianmian’s* neck.

Lin Mianmian (agonising): I used up all my money buying pastries for Shixiong… Should I go and ask Shizun for more spirit stones?

(*TN: Mianmian 绵绵 is a term of endearment. It literally means “soft, downy, fluffy”. In danmei, it is a popular (nick) name for gentle, delicate shous.)