Chapter 13: He Wouldn’t Linger Too Long For Him

“Mmm mmm…” He instinctively tried to bite, but when he met Sheng Rufei’s cold, dignified face, his teeth merely grazed Sheng Rufei’s fingertips before slowly releasing them.

Sheng Rufei was not the type to toy with him; his eyes had remained lowered throughout, and there had always been slight calluses on his fingertips. Now they were even more pronounced.

Although uncomfortable, he knew Sheng Rufei was helping him, so he didn’t struggle.

With his lips forced open, he could clearly feel the calluses on Sheng Rufei’s fingertips… hot, rough, and faintly painful wherever they brushed.

At first it was only discomfort, but then the sensation shifted; he suddenly felt terribly self-conscious, the tips of his ears heating up. Sheng Rufei’s expression never changed. He was still serious, still composed. Lin Shijin’s mouth gradually cooled as the pain subsided.

Seated by the table with his head pushed back, the youth’s eyes grew slightly misty. Already delicate and appealing, his tea-coloured eyes carried a touch of grievance, his ears were utterly red, and his lips far more flushed than usual.

When Sheng Rufei finally let go, the soreness in his throat truly was gone. He cast a furtive glance at Sheng Rufei’s fingertips, feeling rather embarrassed.

Hopefully this would never happen again. Why did he always manage to disgrace himself in front of Sheng Rufei?

“Sixteenth shixiong… thank you for the trouble.”

Sheng Rufei remained impassive. Hearing the youth’s quiet thanks, he idly rubbed his fingertips together, his gaze pausing on those reddened lips for a beat before shifting away.

“It’s fine.”

His voice showed no change.

“Pack up your things, then we’re heading over.”

Lin Shijin could speak again; his earlier sulkiness vanished at once. There was nothing much to pack. He simply took up his sword and followed Sheng Rufei downstairs.

The red thread binding their wrists shifted with each of their movements. Lin Shijin, who never walked properly, headed with him directly towards the city lord’s manor, which wasn’t far.

Rakshasa City’s night market bustled with life, and Lin Shijin, curious as ever, stared about at all the stalls. He hadn’t explored enough during the day, and now everything on either side caught his eye.

Whenever he wandered too far, the red thread would tug gently, sometimes loosening only to poke him back, stopping him from darting about like a sparrow.

Sheng Rufei had never met anyone who enjoyed sticking his nose into everything quite so much. As though everything in the mortal world were new, Lin Shijin looked at everything with fascination. Normally Sheng Rufei needed only to mind his own path. No disciple required this much supervision.

This time was different. His gaze had to remain fixed on the youth ahead; take his eyes off him for a moment and the youth might vanish.

Lin Shijin paid no heed to the thread nudging him. He couldn’t touch the thread anyway. If he could, he would have fought that irritating thing long ago.

“Sixteenth shixiong, how many days are we staying in the city before going back?”

He truly found the mortal world livelier. Up on Fuguang, it was only him and Sheng Rufei, and Sheng Rufei barely bothered with him. Feng Rugao didn’t either… and he wasn’t close to the other disciples.

“I’m not sure at the moment. There’s a mission in the city. Once it’s done, we return.”

“Oh.” Lin Shijin still didn’t know what task they had. He was about to ask when a pipa melody drifted from the second floor of a carved pavilion, catching his attention.

The tune wound gently through the air, lively and lilting, setting one’s heart trembling with it.

It was the first time Lin Shijin had ever seen someone play the pipa. It wasn’t like anything he had heard before. It sounded surprisingly brilliant, though they were in an era where ancient instruments flourished.

Caught up in it, he failed to notice a speeding carriage. The carriage bore Rakshasa totems, and passers-by stepped aside. A fierce gust brushed past his ear, and heavy hooves thundered across the official road.

“Can’t you watch out for the road?” Before Lin Shijin could dodge, the red thread snapped taut and yanked him back. Sheng Rufei had not controlled his strength; the force of the pull made Lin Shijin sway like a roly-poly toy for several moments.

“Mummy, look! What’s that gege doing?” a child said, pointing.

People around them looked over in curiosity. Lin Shijin flushed with embarrassment, tugging lightly at Sheng Rufei’s sleeve before he could steady himself.

Sheng Rufei clearly wanted to pull away, but in the end didn’t move.

“I can walk on my own,” he muttered.

Sheng Rufei gave him a cold glance. “In this short stretch of road you nearly walked into people four or five times, almost got splashed with oil three times, and nearly tripped over stones twice.”

Those were all close calls. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been able to avoid them. Meeting Sheng Rufei’s gaze, he protested unhappily, “Still, you shouldn’t keep tugging on the red thread to yank me. That’s not how a soul-bond works.”

Sheng Rufei didn’t respond, but the thread around his wrist loosened a little, the slackened end brushing softly against Lin Shijin’s fingers.

Satisfied, Lin Shijin decided Sheng Rufei wasn’t entirely heartless. “Why are there still carriages in the night market?”

“Those are from the city lord’s manor,” Sheng Rufei said. “All twelve capital cities have a crest representing their city lord. You must give way when you see it.”

“Oh.” Lin Shijin behaved much better after that, following Sheng Rufei into the city lord’s manor.

Though called a residence, its scale was more akin to a palace with vermilion walls, soaring eaves. The city lord’s manor had arranged a banquet for them; servants guided them to their seats.

Apart from Fuguang disciples, the other attendants of the banquet were all the city lord’s people. Lin Shijin sat beside Sheng Rufei.

Su Lian and Jing Qiuhong were opposite, not far away. Disciples from other sects were present too. Evidently the city lord had summoned more than just them.

“See over there. The one in the hooded robe… is that Fuguang’s Sheng Liuguang?”

“Last year’s Four Peaks Sword Tournament champion. They say his beauty eclipses Bai Yujing.”

And so it began again. Wherever Sheng Rufei went, attention followed. His good looks, talent, cultivation were all exceptional.

“He was born with sword-bones. Do you know what that means? Genius in swordsmanship and a nature three degrees colder than the average person.”

Before Lin Shijin could touch the exquisite dishes before him, Sheng Rufei took away his chopsticks. 

He wasn’t allowed to eat; not to mention drink. Lin Shijin was speechless. What was the point of attending this banquet anyway?

Su Lian and the others were speaking with the city lord, their expressions grave.

His attention drifted to the opera dancers. There was also a musician playing the zither. It was a man wearing a veiled hat, clad in white with silver ripples embroidered across the robes. Tall, refined… strangely familiar.

He looked remarkably like the man who had bumped into him earlier. Lin Shijin couldn’t help staring. The more he looked, the more certain he became.

After a while, the red thread slowly tightened. Somebody was tugging at him to turn his gaze away.

He subconsciously turned to Sheng Rufei, who looked icy. “Don’t simply look anywhere.”

This wasn’t allowed, that wasn’t allowed.

Lin Shijin sulked, but they were outside, so he grudgingly obeyed. After all, Sheng Rufei’s cultivation was far higher; he could sense danger better.

“I’m going over to Su Lian-shixiong.” Sitting with Sheng Rufei was dull; Su Lian and Jing Qiuhong were at least from the same sect and there wouldn’t be any issues.

Sheng Rufei frowned faintly but didn’t object. However, when Lin Shijin tried to stand, he sensed the red thread was fixed and didn’t automatically lengthen. Instead, it tugged him back to his seat.

He reached for it but couldn’t touch the thread at all. So he grabbed Sheng Rufei’s hand, brushed his fingers until he found the red thread, and manually stretched it.

Satisfied with its obedience, he touched Sheng Rufei’s fingertip and placed his hand back.

“Call me if you need anything, Shixiong. And don’t fiddle with the red thread.”

Sheng Rufei was still staring at his own fingertip, expression unreadable.

Lin Shijin cheerfully walked away, leaving Sheng Rufei behind. Sheng Rufei’s gaze followed him. He surmised that it was because he was worried about him and thought nothing more.

Sheng Rufei stared as he left. It was like watching a butterfly, always flitting away. If he didn’t hold tight to it, it would fly off. He had no way to keep the butterfly lingering for too long.

Lin Shijin went to find Jing Qiuhong first. Their seats were close to the musician. As they chatted, he glimpsed the musician again.

The hall seemed to fall silent. It was just the two of them. The musician lifted his veil. He was handsome, gentle, with noble features; a tiny mole at his eye; exquisitely striking. His gaze met Lin Shijin’s, a slow smile curving his lips.

Lin Shijin stared… entranced.

Then his body moved of its own accord, walking towards the musician.

He lost control of himself. A tiny voice inside screamed “aaa aaa aaa aaa” that something was wrong. In the next instant, the musician vanished, and he followed him out of the hall.

In his dizzy, enchanted state, Lin Shijin walked out, his body feeling somewhat stiff. The city lord’s manor was massive. The night outside was vast and dark, and many areas were unlit for some reason.

He guessed that musician earlier was definitely trouble.

The red thread still clung to his wrist; that reassured him a little. But as he stepped into the darkness, cold dread pooled between his shoulder blades. A low, velvety laugh sounded behind him.

“Little beauty, were you looking at me just now?”

A hand slid around his waist; warm breath tickled his ear. The man gripped his waist easily, turning him around with one effortless motion.

Lin Shijin nearly lost his soul from fright. His body regained control and he struggled instinctively. He glimpsed the familiar face. It was the musician from before.

“Let go—”

Before Lin Shijin fingertips could reach his sword, the man seized them. Their eyes met. Gentle brows, a soft gaze. The man pinched his chin.

Pain shot through his cheek. The man studied him, voice amused. “This face… rather lovely. Shame it doesn’t look very clever.”

Lin Shijin glared through his frantic struggle. He tried to push him away, but the man pressed a hand to his waist. Every ounce of strength left him.

“Perfect… let’s try you, then.”

Lin Shijin suddenly felt weightless. The man, the darkness, everything disappeared. Voices filled his ears again. He was back in the main hall.

It seemed that everything earlier had been an illusion.

Heart pounding, his first thought was to find Sheng Rufei. Remembering the man’s face, fear rippled through him. He needed to tell his shixiong.

He hadn’t gone far when a laugh echoed beside his ear. It was the same voice from before.

He felt an invisible hand touch his neck, slowly stroking upwards, brushing his earlobe.

“Don’t be afraid. I won’t harm you.”

Cold sweat gathered on his brow. He felt the threat. This man could snap his neck with a flick.

Warm breath touched his ear again, the voice still soft, gentle, but anything but proper.

“Little beauty… go and seduce your shixiong for me, won’t you?”