Chapter 11: Utterly Broke

Lin Shijin sat by the bed counting his silver. All he had left were a few broken bits of change. At first he felt rather pleased, tallying them up one by one, but once he’d reached the end, his happiness evaporated.

Feng Rugao had given him plenty of spirit stones before, yet now all he had were these scraps of silver. He tried to recall what he’d even spent them on, but it seemed he hadn’t bought much at all. They’d simply vanished.

He certainly didn’t want to go to Changming Hall and ask Feng Rugao for more. He was still fretting over this when a voice transmission arrived. It was Feng Rugao summoning him to Changming Hall.

The man’s voice was cold, sent directly to his mind.

“Come right now.”

He answered reluctantly, gathered up his loose silver, and dawdled his way to Changming Hall, where he saluted upon entry.

Feng Rugao sat in the principal seat and looked at him. “Come here.”

There was a black-lacquered box on the table. Lin Shijin glanced at it, wondering why he had been summoned. Surely not to hand him more spirit stones?

He looked at the box again. It didn’t look like something that held spirit stones. Upon meeting Feng Rugao’s emotionless, desireless gaze, he immediately looked away.

“Shizun, may I ask why you’ve called me?”

Feng Rugao said, “In two days you’ll leave the mountain for training. I’ve instructed your shixiong to accompany you. Don’t make trouble. Behave.”

Lin Shijin murmured a soft, “Is there anything else, Shizun?”

Hidden in the shadows, Feng Qing frowned. He couldn’t stand people speaking to his lord like that, though he knew it was simply because the youth couldn’t mask his feelings.

It was obvious the youth didn’t much like his lord.

And yet his lord indulged him, showing not the slightest displeasure.

Lin Shijin had no idea what Feng Qing was thinking. He was simply far too nervous and meant no offence at all.

In fact, he was so frightened he hardly dared look at Feng Rugao.

Standing this close, he could feel the chill of sword aura clinging to the man, making his whole body turn cold.

He only wanted to hurry this along and leave.

“Take this.”

Feng Rugao’s pale fingers rested upon the black box. He lifted the lid to reveal a piece of clear white jade, delicately carved with intricate patterns whose meaning Lin Shijin could not guess. There were even faint characters etched at the base.

Even without understanding, he could tell it was fine jade.

He reached out to take it, but Feng Rugao avoided his hand. A red cord was attached to the jade, and Feng Rugao’s fingertips slipped through his waistband, fastening it on for him himself.

Lin Shijin stiffened at once. Standing there while Feng Rugao tied a jade pendant at his waist was unbearably awkward. He had no idea what to do with his hands or feet; his spine went rigid, and even his breathing softened.

“Thank you, Shizun,” he said in a tiny voice.

He hadn’t the faintest idea what the pendant was for, but he accepted it anyway.

Feng Rugao’s gaze lingered on his face for a moment before he asked, lightly, “Have you enough spirit stones?”

Lin Shijin felt something was off about him today. His own heart was in turmoil, and he couldn’t worry about spirit stones at a time like this. “Enough,” he said quickly, since he just wanted to leave Changming Hall.

“Is there anything else, Shizun?”

His fingers rubbed the gold thread on his sleeve. He felt the man’s gaze resting on him for quite a while before, after a brief silence, Feng Rugao finally said: “You may go.”

Lin Shijin saluted and withdrew. Leaving Changming Hall, he felt oddly weighed down; glancing at the jade on his waist, he took it off.

Only afterwards did he feel a twinge of regret. He’d been too nervous just now. He hadn’t any spirit stones left at all and right now he was entirely penniless.

The day came to descend the mountain. Surprisingly, Sheng Rufei didn’t come to wake him. He slept blissfully until the hour of Chen*, then causally packed the few things he had, which were his scraps of silver and a sword.

(*TN: 7 – 9am.)

They were to assemble at Disciple Peak. There, a huge paper boat awaited them, patterned with elaborate designs that shimmered like gilt.

He saw Sheng Rufei, who was, as usual, surrounded by people. Lin Shijin boarded without going over, found a quiet corner, and hugged two picture-books to his chest, planning to buy another copy in Rakshasa City.

From a distance, he spotted Jing Qiuhong and waved. Jing Qiuhong trotted aboard and came over at once.

Their tastes in reading differed. Lin Shijin liked tales about saving the world, or simply funny ones. He had no interest in love and romance. 

Jing Qiuhong preferred “harem picture-books”, where one male lead had many female leads. Normally they didn’t touch each other’s books, but when they were truly bored, they’d swap.

As they were doing now.

“What mission do we have in Rakshasa City?” Lin Shijin asked as they exchanged picture-books.

“I heard a magical artefact belonging to the city lord’s manor was stolen and is linked to demons. We’re to go and clear them out.”

They leaned together, mockingly picking apart each other’s books.

“Look at yours,” Lin Shijin said. “All the jiejies look exactly the same and only the hairstyles change. Can you even tell who’s who?”

“Of course I can!” Jing Qiuhong retorted. “The prettiest is the female lead. She’s this one.”

Lin Shijin leaned closer to look. Just then, the red thread on his wrist to twitch, wind around him, and tug him back a little.

Startled, he turned to see Sheng Rufei standing a short distance behind him. He had no idea how long he’d been there.

Being tugged by the red thread made him panic a little. Had he done something wrong? Didn’t they agree that he was only supposed to tug the red thread when he was misbehaving?

He glanced at Jing Qiuhong’s picture-book. The women pictured all wore off-the-shoulder, flowing robes. Sheng Rufei probably thought he was looking at some improper material again.

“When did your shixiong get here?” Jing Qiuhong muttered.

“He already agreed to come with you, didn’t he?” He continued, putting his picture-book away.

“I’ll go over,” Lin Shijin said, getting up. He made his way to face Sheng Rufei. There were few people on that part of the boat; just the two of them.

“I was only swapping picture-books with Jing Qiuhong. I wasn’t reading anything improper. Both our picture-books were perfectly decent,” Lin Shijin explained.

He turned to leave, but the red thread tugged him again. Sheng Rufei called, “Hold it.”

He turned, baffled.

Sheng Rufei’s expression was cool, his lips faintly stiff. He pulled two worn, crumpled little picture-books from his robes. He saw that they were covered in crooked stick-figures. Sheng Rufei and handed them over.

“Read these here.”

“…?”

Lin Shijin was taken aback. Sheng Rufei was always strict, probably thinking he and Jing Qiuhong were bad influences on each other. But for Sheng Rufei to prepare picture-books for him was rare indeed. Curious, he took them.

They appeared extremely old. He turned a few pages and realised it was such a cliché story. It seems that this picture-book was rather vintage and the words were barely legible.

Sheng Rufei watched him quietly as he flipped through the picture-books. In a rare moment of earnestness, he’d obtained these picture-books from the Library Pavilion, and he was only able to find these after searching two floors.

Though he couldn’t understand what was supposed to be interesting about them. They were barely more than random sketches and the narrative was rather banal.

Lin Shijin also found them dull. They felt more like a cultivation manual than a story… utterly pointless. They weren’t half as entertaining as the twin sisters in Jing Qiuhong’s picture-books.

As such, he returned them to Sheng Rufei. “Sixteenth shixiong, I’ve read these already. Jing Qiuhong has some I haven’t seen yet. I’ll go back. I won’t wander.”

And off he went without looking back. Sheng Rufei held the two picture-books in hand; for a moment he very nearly used the red thread to pull the youth back.

He stood there, watching him return to Jing Qiuhong, laughing easily.

The paper cranes carried them through drifting clouds, past looming peaks and white mist, to the skies above Rakshasa City.

There were more than twenty disciples on this trip, divided into groups. The first day required no visit to the city lord’s manor. They were to rest at an inn and gather information on the situation within the city.

The inn had both double and single rooms. As Sheng Rufei and Lin Shijin were not disciples of the Sect Leader, they were assigned single rooms.

Lin Shijin couldn’t sit still. The Three Thousand Worlds had fifty cities. Twelve of which were capitals, and Rakshasa City was one of them.

It was lively here. His silver wouldn’t even buy him a single book. Jing Qiuhong waited for him at the door of the inn. Among all the disciples, he only knew Sheng Rufei a little better.

So he set his mind on Sheng Rufei.

He knocked; Sheng Rufei opened the door. Embarrassed, he asked, “Sixteenth shixiong, could you lend me some spirit stones? I’ll return them when I get back to the peak.”

“Not many. I’m heading out to buy a few things.”

“What are you buying?” Sheng Rufei asked.

Of course, it was for buying things. The silver he had with him was probably enough to only buy one book. 

“I want to buy picture-books.” 

Lin Shijin thought a bit. “And snacks, and we need to gather information… and I might see something I like on the way…”

But since he was asking to borrow from Sheng Rufei, he didn’t dare ask for too much. Sheng Rufei, being the protagonist, surely wasn’t short of spirit stones. It’s just whether or not he was willing to lend him any.

At this point, he didn’t yet know that Sheng Rufei was in fact utterly broke.

In the end, Sheng Rufei only handed him a few spirit stones and some loose silver. It was enough for buying stuff in the city.

“People in the city can handle information-gathering,” Sheng Rufei said. “Don’t buy too many picture-books. The inn has snacks.”

It wasn’t much, but Lin Shijin was quite pleased that Sheng Rufei had lent him anything at all. He said “All right,” took the spirit stones, and headed downstairs.

He glanced back as he went. Sheng Rufei was standing alone on the second floor, yet to return inside. With his naturally white hair hidden beneath a hood, he looked strangely solitary.

For a moment, Lin Shijin nearly asked if he wanted to come along. But he soon dismissed the thought.

He left the inn.

Upstairs, Sheng Rufei watched him go. He, too, had to investigate the city; the cities of the Three Thousand Worlds often cooperated with their sect, but the words of their officials weren’t always reliable. They needed to check things themselves.

Rakshasa City was bustling. Dressed in a hooded robe to hide his white hair, Sheng Rufei walked the streets. Within the sect, white hair is considered an auspicious mark of a sword-bone prodigy. However, in the mortal world, it is an unsettling anomaly.

He’d never explored a capital before. Fingering his sword and recalling the youth’s complaint that his picture-books were boring. He was still carrying those two useless picture-books.

With this thought still lingering in his mind, he found himself stopping in front of a bookshop, his black boots coming to a halt.