Lin Shijin had been waiting all day for Jun Yewu to make a move, wanting to see exactly what he was up to. Yet Jun Yewu never once stepped outside; he simply remained in the inn, so the two of them ended up spending the entire day indoors.
At one point Lin Shijin told him he wanted to pop out to buy something. Jun Yewu allowed it, but the moment he set foot on the street, the golden seal on his wrist began to flicker, warning him not to entertain any little schemes.
He tried straying a bit farther. Jun Yewu promptly hauled him back and shut him in the room, forbidding him to go anywhere.
By now Lin Shijin was truly at his limit. He looked at Jun Yewu, who was sitting at the edge of the bed reading, and asked, “Did you come to the city merely for a change of scenery in which to sleep?”
Jun Yewu lowered his book with deliberate slowness, gave a quiet hum, and said softly, “What do you think I came here for?”
“How should I know,” Lin Shijin muttered under his breath. He was half-mad from being cooped up. The inn where the Fuguang disciples were staying was only two streets away, yet he couldn’t return.
“Wait a while longer,” Jun Yewu murmured, lifting his eyelids. “No one noticed me entering the city, and it’s far too quiet. They may well have been prepared. If I go out now, I’d be stepping straight into their trap.”
Lin Shijin stared, dumbfounded. He hadn’t expected Jun Yewu to remain this suspicious after circling the city several times.
Such vigilance… but then, it was understandable.
Left alone, Lin Shijin kept his eyes fixed on the red thread about his wrist, hoping for some reaction, but it remained motionless.
Night had fallen. Jun Yewu looked dreadful; since entering the inn he had lain on the bed, unmoving. Lin Shijin glanced over and saw that the man’s wound had opened again. A faint trace of blood hung in the air.
“Come here,” Jun Yewu called.
Lin Shijin, who had been sitting on the floor, unwillingly stood and approached the bed. One glance at Jun Yewu’s abdomen showed blood seeping anew.
A packet of blackened medicine and fresh gauze landed in his hands. Evidently, he was to change the dressing. Jun Yewu sat up, voice still gentle.
“Don’t forget what I told you last time.”
Lin Shijin knew precisely what that meant. Last time, Jun Yewu had said that if he touched the wound again by accident, he’d chop his hand off.
He peeled away the gauze with meticulous care, being even more focused than he ever was reading picture-books since he was terrified of brushing the injury and losing a hand.
The old dressing came away sodden. He had no idea what that black concoction was made of, only that it stank.
His eyes showed a flicker of distaste, and immediately his ear was pinched, given a light twist. Jun Yewu’s voice drifted lazily:
“Are you looking down on me?”
“No,” Lin Shijin replied. Even if he were, he wouldn’t dare say so. “The medicine simply smells awful.”
“That’s Golden-Jade Beast blood. Do you even know what a Golden-Jade Beast is?”
Lin Shijin shook his head. He didn’t press; Jun Yewu didn’t elaborate. He finished the dressing, washed his hands, and realised it was nearly time to sleep. There was only one bed in the room. Where was he meant to sleep?
Just as he was thinking it, noise erupted outside. Someone banged on the door.
“City inspection, special period. Open up!”
A “special period” meant a demon had slipped into the city. Demons came in good and ill; normally no one interfered, but the moment an incident occurred, they locked down the city for inspection.
Lin Shijin glanced at Jun Yewu. The pounding grew fiercer. They would break down the door any moment. With the thick smell of blood in the room, if discovered they would certainly be detained.
He hesitated, unsure whether to open the door. In the next instant, his vision blurred. He and Jun Yewu had changed form yet again, this time into two women who looked as though they came straight from a brothel.
The blood-scent was drowned beneath heavy powder and perfume. Jun Yewu looped an arm about him; the hairpin in Lin Shijin’s hair wobbled with every step, and the powder on their faces was so thick it threatened to fall off. One look at the gaudy dress on himself, then at the one on Jun Yewu, and he felt gooseflesh prickle across his skin.
To his relief, no one was there to witness them. Both were far too tall for the roles, walking with awkward steps.
The door burst open. Jun Yewu held him close; they appeared as a pair of sisters. Jun Yewu’s acting was impeccable. His startled expression could have fooled anyone.
The intruders were disciples from another immortal sect, holding the portraits from the city gate and the inn, questioning their identities.
“These two disappeared two months ago. They returned today. Have you seen them?”
“And these two. They arrived today behaving suspiciously. They originally booked this room. Have you seen them?”
Jun Yewu, pale and frail-looking, spoke in a woman’s voice, “We’re only here because the gentlemen instructed us. They told us to guard this room until morning, and they’d pay us in silver.”
Lin Shijin, forced to cooperate, kept his expression stiff. None of the disciples so much as glanced at him. All were distracted by the beauty Jun Yewu had conjured.
The disciples exchanged glances. Jun Yewu looked displeased. “So you’re saying their identities were false? We came from the brothel. They said they’d give us a thousand spirit stones. Surely they’re not cheating us?”
“Their identities aren’t false, but they haven’t been verified. Without proper papers they shouldn’t be allowed in the city. But a demon infiltration isn’t impossible.”
At the word demon, Jun Yewu’s face turned white. Lin Shijin stared at him. The man’s acting was flawless, perfectly imitating a woman’s mannerisms.
In the end, not only did they fail to suspect him, they even tried to reassure him, offering to escort him back to the brothel.
“No need. It would be a waste leaving a superior room empty. It’s late. Lin-meimei* and I shall return tomorrow.”
(*TN: little sister)
“Lin-meimei, wouldn’t you say so?” Jun Yewu’s voice was soft, his gaze drifting towards him.
Lin Shijin: “…”
Still taking advantage at a time like this. Yet that very instinct dispelled the disciples’ final doubts; they moved on.
Once the door shut, their appearances reverted. Lin Shijin watched the disciples descend the stairs, then slowly withdrew his gaze.
“What’s this? Planning to go back with them?”
Lin Shijin pursed his lips and didn’t answer. Instead he eyed the bed. “Where do I sleep?”
Jun Yewu clearly wasn’t planning to act tonight, and they certainly couldn’t both sleep on the bed.
“You want to sleep with me?” Jun Yewu arched a brow.
Lin Shijin shook his head at once. He glanced at the bed and muttered, “I don’t want to sleep with you. I just want to sleep on the bed.”
Dream on. Jun Yewu tossed a blanket onto the floor as indication.
Lin Shijin took the blanket. At such a time, bargaining was courting death; the more he spoke, the worse it’d be. He sensibly retreated to a corner with the blanket.
The immortal sect disciples didn’t return. Lin Shijin huddled in a corner, staring at the red thread on his wrist. Naturally he didn’t sleep.
With Jun Yewu beside him, he didn’t dare. Once the candle went out, he lay awake, facing the window, gradually curling himself into a tight ball. Yet in his heart flickered a faint, stubborn hope.
The red thread was still there. Sheng Rufei would come for him.
He didn’t know how long he stared into the darkness. The night was cold; the floor was icy beneath him. He shifted part of the blanket beneath himself, leaving the rest of his body uncovered, curling into a miserable knot.
In the second half of the night, Jun Yewu tossed and turned, unable to sleep. He coughed twice. Lin Shijin stole a look. Moonlight lay across the bed; Jun Yewu’s face was chalk-white.
The faint blood-scent grew stronger. The wound had split open again. Lin Shijin wondered how it had been inflicted. Why wouldn’t it heal?
At this rate of blood loss, an ordinary man would already be dead.
Jun Yewu kept coughing, voice hoarse. Lin Shijin rose, making slight noise, but Jun Yewu didn’t notice.
Perhaps… now was the perfect chance to escape.
He tiptoed to the bed. Up close, Jun Yewu looked even worse, lips drained of colour, cold sweat beading his brow. The gauze was soaked red.
Lin Shijin stood there for a moment, then poked him lightly. No response.
His dark eyes brightened. Watching Jun Yewu’s pain-creased face, he silently muttered, Serves you right.
Now truly was the best chance to flee.
But how to remove the golden curse on his wrist? He looked at Jun Yewu’s outer robe. There seemed to be a storage pouch inside. Glancing at the delirious man, he gingerly reached for the robe.
His heart hammered. He touched the fabric, staring between Jun Yewu and the robe, feeling as though a taut string were stretched through his chest.
Don’t wake up. Don’t wake up. Please, for heaven’s sake, don’t wake up.
He chanted inwardly. The moment he secured the robe, tension drained from him, and he planned to bolt immediately.
The robe still in his arms, he barely shifted his toes when Jun Yewu coughed… and in the darkness, his eyes snapped open.
Lin Shijin froze, meeting that gaze. Caught in the act, he jumped; the tension inside him snapped like a bowstring.
The inn was deathly quiet. Jun Yewu’s gaze travelled from his face downwards to the robe clutched in his arms.
Lin Shijin’s heart thudded violently. His hands trembled. Under Jun Yewu’s calm yet faintly chilling stare, even his legs began shaking.
Before Jun Yewu could interrogate him, he forced himself to stay composed. He quietly draped the robe over Jun Yewu and even tucked it around him. His voice stammered:
“I-I was just coming over to cover you with your robe.”
In the moonlight, the youth standing beside the bed looked at him with earnest, nervous eyes, watching him anxiously, his pale fingertips trembling. Cautious to the extreme.
The robe, still warm, settled over him.
Jun Yewu faltered for a moment, distracted.
