Lin Shijin didn’t want to choose either of them. He’d read the original novel; he knew exactly how twisted Jun Yewu was. Instinctively, he shuffled backwards, his legs already shaking.
“C-can I not choose…?”
He spotted his sword beside him and reached out for it. Jun Yewu didn’t so much as blink, simply watching him with a faintly amused look in his eyes.
“Of course not. You may only pick one.”
Lin Shijin fell silent. His fingertips brushed the sword. Then, all at once, his fingers went numb, losing all strength. He was forced to let it go.
“How about I choose on your behalf?”
The other man lowered his gaze. Lin Shijin’s jaw still throbbed with pain. He was held immobile, his shoulders trembling uncontrollably. Struggling to remain composed, he finally squeezed out a few words.
“I-I don’t want to be made into a beauty bone.”
Jun Yewu’s eyes softened, his voice turning almost tender. “Then you’d prefer I bed you?”
Lin Shijin truly felt this man had no shame at all. He shook his head rapidly, but didn’t dare contradict him. After a long moment, he managed to force out, “Why did you pick me?”
“Didn’t you throw yourself at me?” Jun Yewu’s smile was neither a smile nor not. “First you ran straight into me and saw my face, then you stared at me throughout the banquet.”
Lin Shijin: “…”
It was absurd. Only then did he notice… or perhaps he imagined it, that Jun Yewu looked unusually pale.
“I only saw your face. I didn’t even know it was you…”
Before he could finish, Jun Yewu gripped his chin. His voice was gentle. “That’s the third time. I didn’t give you permission to speak. Have you already forgotten what I said?”
A chill crept up Lin Shijin’s spine. He clamped his mouth shut at once, pressing himself against the boulder behind him, quiet as a mouse, wishing he could merge with the stone.
“One more time, and you’ll be punished.”
Lin Shijin played dead. He dared not speak. The man before him was moody and deranged.
Jun Yewu vanished from sight. The invisible restraint on his body released, though the sword was now far out of reach. The red thread on his wrist remained; had Sheng Rufei still not noticed he was missing?
As he thought this, he heard movement deeper in the cave. The place reeked of blood. Jun Yewu’s voice carried out softly.
“Come.”
The rope round his ankle snapped of its own accord. Lin Shijin dawdled, unwilling to go, until he felt a sinister presence fix on him. Every hair on his body stood on end.
Sensing danger, he scrambled upright and carefully avoided the scattered white bones as he entered the cave.
The cave ran deep. Further in was a natural stone chamber, the blood‐scent even stronger. He reached the entrance… and froze.
Jun Yewu sat within, bare‐chested. A vicious wound carved across his abdomen and round towards his back, deep enough to expose bone. It looked as though he had nearly been cleaved in two.
Lin Shijin’s steps faltered, his eyelids twitching. He barely saw Jun Yewu’s body; his mind stuck fast on the wound.
It was poorly dealt with, faintly blackened. Blood-soaked gauze lay strewn across the floor.
He edged forward, eyes darting everywhere, wondering whether this was a good moment to bolt.
Jun Yewu, ghost-pale, tossed him a roll of gauze and a lump of black something. The meaning was clear: tend to the wound.
Lin Shijin held the foul-smelling herbs, wanting to ask something. Then remembered he wasn’t allowed to speak. He shut his mouth.
Jun Yewu kept his eyes closed, leaving just enough awareness on the little fool before him. Were he not gravely wounded, he’d never have chosen such a weak, clingy idiot.
A few looks, perhaps, but far from his taste.
He had meant to seize the beautiful one at the banquet, but with his cultivation suppressed, that had proved impractical.
A touch landed on his skin. Jun Yewu slowly opened his eyes.
The youth knelt before him, painstakingly applying the medicine. His tea-coloured eyes were bright; when he noticed Jun Yewu looking, he jumped back like a startled rabbit.
“You’re frightened of me?”
The youth shook his head, whispering, “No. Not frightened.”
His voice was soft and milky, like a small animal’s whimper. Jun Yewu smiled gently. The youth lowered his head at once and carried on, pretending not to recall the earlier warning.
Who forbids people to talk? Lin Shijin grumbled inwardly as he endured the stench, terrified of accidentally stabbing Jun Yewu and killing him outright.
The wound was terribly deep, the blood still welling until the herbs staunched it.
Jun Yewu wouldn’t die so easily. But if he was displeased, Lin Shijin might.
Lin Shijin had never handled delicate tasks. The most patient thing he’d ever done was doodle turtles with a brush. He couldn’t even tie his own sash properly, let alone patch someone up.
Despite his extreme caution, he still touched the wound several times. Blood smeared his fingertips and dripped to the floor.
A cold dread crawled across his neck. Without looking up, he could feel that gaze. He wiped the blood away and forced himself to continue.
The man said nothing. Lin Shijin kept applying the herbs, stealing nervous glances upward. Then he to meet Jun Yewu’s eyes directly.
The air seemed to freeze. Meeting that smiling gaze, his scalp tingled. Bracing himself, he slapped on two extra layers of herbs where he’d touched before.
“Do it again, and that hand’s useless. Might as well chop it off.”
Lin Shijin’s fingers went cold. He concentrated entirely on the wound, moving painfully slowly.
While he worked, Jun Yewu observed him for a long moment, then said, “You’re bound by a soul-bond?”
Lin Shijin stiffened. A belated chill spread through him, and for a second, his mind went blank.
His reaction gave everything away. Jun Yewu tapped his forehead lightly, sounding amused.
“I can see your bone pattern clearly. It’s a soul-bond. Though…”
Jun Yewu had discovered something interesting. He glanced at the fool’s face again. Handsome enough, at least. And the soul-bond was quite a prize. This idiot must have good luck.
Lin Shijin pretended to be dead. He plastered on a blank expression, as if he knew nothing.
If Jun Yewu understood the soul-bond, he was truly done for.
“A disciple of Fuguang…” Jun Yewu mused, then smiled. Just then, the wound to split again. His face twisted, growing even paler.
Serves you right, Lin Shijin thought, but it only meant more work for him. After finishing the treatment, he realised he couldn’t tell the time at all from within this deep cave.
Magic was sealed. He heard water dripping nearby and wanted to wash his hands. Before he could move, Jun Yewu looked over.
“I’m just going to wash my hands.”
Lin Shijin showed his palms, dark with herbs, smelling unbearable. Seeing no objection, he went to the cold spring and washed, glancing back at Jun Yewu. Now that the soul-bond was exposed, he needed to escape. Fast.
His last card was gone. As he fretted, he idly poked the air… and hit a barrier.
He wondered how Sheng Rufei was faring.
Returning, he noticed another pile of bones. Careful to avoid them, he felt his skin crawl.
Only the two of them remained in the cave. Jun Yewu sat cross-legged. Lin Shijin had originally sat by the entrance, facing the bones and blood, so he shuffled further inside, placing himself beside Jun Yewu.
At least Jun Yewu was a living person with breath in his lungs.
He kept a cautious distance, eyeing the red thread on his wrist.
It lay still. Only Sheng Rufei could sense it; he himself felt nothing.
Even with his eyes closed, Jun Yewu felt the youth’s movements slowly inching closer, only to shuffle further away when their eyes met.
The youth was terrified of him, yet his gaze roamed everywhere, clearly calculating how to escape.
*
A few hours earlier.
Sheng Rufei saw the youth sleeping soundly beside the bed. He pulled the blankets up properly. He was very much the conscientious shixiong.
He meditated for an hour; the room was silent. Opening his eyes, he glanced at the slumbering boy.
The youth slept deeply, curled around the blanket, lips faintly parted, still prone to kicking the covers.
Sheng Rufei tucked him in again and looked at him for a moment before withdrawing his gaze.
He meditated for several more hours. At dawn, Su Lian-shixiong knocked, calling them to the city lord’s residence.
Sheng Rufei approached the bed and found the youth still asleep. He poked Lin Shijin’s cheek twice with a fingertip, his voice cool.
“Up. We’re going to the city lord’s manor.”
Two pokes. No response. He didn’t wish to yank off the covers. His fingertip brushed soft skin… softer than the brocade blanket.
A little cold.
So he poked again, face expressionless.
With that single poke, the youth vanished, leaving only a thin quilt on the bed.
His shidi had simply disappeared.
Sheng Rufei: “……”
🙂