Sheng Rufei couldn’t help but picture it in his mind: if the youth were to become the same as him… would the colour of that little red-thread figure change as well?
He didn’t answer. The youth on his back answered his own question anyway, forever wriggling as he clung to his neck.
Lin Shijin noticed that Sheng Rufei had slowed his pace. Thinking he had touched one of Sheng Rufei’s wounds, he immediately stilled, obediently looping his arms around him and refraining from fidgeting.
They were on higher ground here, the sky spread clearly above them. Lin Shijin could see the far-off moon. Clinging to Sheng Rufei’s back, he asked, “Shixiong, are you getting up early to practise swordsmanship tomorrow?”
Sheng Rufei made a quiet sound of affirmation. Feeling drowsy, Lin Shijin rested against him and murmured, “Then call me tomorrow. I’ll go with you.”
“I never quite manage what the elders teach… Shixiong, could you teach me?” He muttered to himself, “Shizun thinks I’m useless. I must be the worst disciple he’s ever taken.”
He’d never meant to become powerful. He had only wanted to find a sect far removed from immortal battlefields and live a quiet life. Yet now, he had been thoroughly dragged into the fray.
“You can rest properly these next few days,” Sheng Rufei said. “Few disciples can endure bone-refinement. You’re covered in injuries; there’s no need to rush.”
“Get yourself healed first.”
Lin Shijin mumbled a soft reply. Half-asleep, he felt Sheng Rufei carry him back to his own courtyard. Once they were on familiar ground, he heard Sheng Rufei say,
“Put the medicine on before sleeping.”
It was already terribly late. Lin Shijin could barely keep his eyes open. He mumbled something indistinct, not even sure what he’d said. It seemed to be something like asking Sheng Rufei for help.
“Tomorrow won’t be too late… we have to see Shizun anyway.”
“If you don’t apply it tonight, it’ll hurt badly tomorrow.”
Sheng Rufei looked at the youth sprawled on the soft couch. He seemed utterly boneless, melting into the bedding the moment he touched it. Sheng Rufei hadn’t even reached out yet when the youth turned away, clutching the blanket.
A while later, the youth turned back, as though the words “it’ll hurt” had reached him through the haze. His eyes opened a sliver and blinked up at him.
Then he stretched out his hand.
Sheng Rufei understood. He wanted help applying the medicine.
He took out the bottle he had brought. Su Lian-shixiong had exchanged it with him; it was said to ease the injuries caused during bone-refinement.
Lin Shijin felt his wrist being held. He was so sleepy that his vision doubled. The youth before him held his wrist steady, dabbing the dark medicine along it.
His fingertips were faintly cool… comfortably so. Lin Shijin stared at Sheng Rufei’s features: cold and elegant by nature, and now lowered in concentration as he worked with solemn care.
“Shixiong is so good,” he thought. Somehow, he’d muttered aloud, too softly to hear. Sheng Rufei’s hand paused for a heartbeat.
Candlelight gilded Sheng Rufei’s profile. Inwardly, he thought: I’m not as good as he thinks.
“Where does it hurt?”
Lin Shijin had undressed before Sheng Rufei once already, so he felt nothing unusual about it. He shed a layer, remembering to reveal only a strip of his waist as Sheng Rufei had instructed.
He was pale-skinned, with a slender waist. Now, many red marks mottled his skin from the medicinal spring. The bruise on his lower back that had been left by Jun Yewu’s dagger, had turned a deeper purple these past few days from further knocks.
Lin Shijin couldn’t see any of it. He merely lifted his clothes slightly and let Sheng Rufei tend to him. The medicine eased the ache from the spring, though it itched a little.
Especially when Sheng Rufei touched his sides. He instinctively flinched, the itch making him twitch. Last time, the medicine had simply been applied; this time it needed rubbing in, since the spring’s medicine had already seeped deep into his skin.
Sheng Rufei’s fingertips were cool and slightly ticklish, especially as he rubbed. Lin Shijin slowly inched away from him. Then he realised Sheng Rufei was watching, and shuffled back again.
“Shixiong, it tickles.”
“Could you be gentler?”
The rubbing cleared his drowsiness. He fixed his eyes on Sheng Rufei’s fingertips, realising that although he’d spoken up, Sheng Rufei didn’t react. He simply continued his task, as though completing a duty.
“It has to be rubbed in properly,” Sheng Rufei said. “Otherwise it’ll hurt again tomorrow.”
Lin Shijin feared pain. He didn’t insist on gentleness, but he couldn’t help squirming. His waist trembled, the dark medicine spreading unevenly because of his movements. He grabbed a corner of Sheng Rufei’s clothes.
“Shixiong—”
He called softly. Sheng Rufei’s expression remained cold, unmoved. Medicine stained his hand.
Sheng Rufei always finished what he started. Since Lin Shijin had asked for help, he wouldn’t stop until the job was done.
“Ticklish?”
Lin Shijin nodded, lips faintly pursed. It wasn’t his fault. Looking at Sheng Rufei’s icy face, he wasn’t exactly afraid. But some inexplicable tension pricked at him.
“I didn’t do it on purpose.”
He gripped the quilt. Even though he’d asked Sheng Rufei for help, he still couldn’t stop dodging. It was strangely itchy and odd. He kept wanting to escape it.
“I have a way,” Sheng Rufei said.
Lin Shijin wondered what method he meant… until the next second, the red thread on his wrist stirred. It lengthened, looping around his wrists and binding them behind him. In an instant, he was firmly restrained.
“…”
Red thread still wrapped Sheng Rufei’s own wrist. He lowered his gaze, looking at him for a moment before tapping the thread with his fingertip.
“This way, you won’t move.”
Lin Shijin’s arms were raised above his head, wrists crossed and bound. The red thread was supple, not hurting him at all. But the posture left him virtually powerless.
Sheng Rufei had never used the thread before. Lin Shijin wondered where he’d learnt to bind him so deftly.
His face flushed. He couldn’t tell whether it was in anger or embarrassment. It had to be intentional. But Sheng Rufei looked so calm, so matter-of-fact, as though nothing were amiss.
He tried to struggle. The thread didn’t budge, only brushed against him lightly, almost affectionately, gently nudging as though trying to comfort him.
“No, Shixiong, let me go!”
He bristled, unable to even touch the thread. His inner garment had ridden up because of the position, exposing more of his reddened skin.
“If I let go, you’ll wriggle again,” Sheng Rufei said.
He wiped the medicine from his fingertips, dipped more, and resumed applying it.
Fully awake now, Lin Shijin was in high spirits, struggling and wriggling. He called him “Shixiong,” then “Sixteenth Shixiong,” then “Sheng Rufei,” his tone growing increasingly disgruntled.
He nearly rolled off the couch. At first he fixated on the red thread; then Sheng Rufei’s touch distracted him; then he focused entirely on avoiding it.
Bound as he was, he couldn’t dodge at all. When Sheng Rufei’s palm pressed down, he tensed, calling “Sheng Rufei” several times, muttering under his breath.
“Shixiong, don’t pretend you didn’t hear me.”
“Sheng Rufei—”
He had thought Sheng Rufei was the least likely to bully him. Yet now he was treated like this. He contemplated complaining to Feng Rugao tomorrow, then hesitated. Sheng Rufei had been beaten only two days ago; he must still be hurting.
He instinctively believed Feng Rugao would side with him. Truly, he was spoiled.
While he was thinking all this, Sheng Rufei’s fingertips brushed his lower back. The touch was cool with medicine. It sent a strange sensation shooting upwards. He instinctively struggled.
Though he tried to dodge, the touch still grazed him. Heat spread across his face. The odd sensation hadn’t faded. He scooted deeper into the couch.
“Shixiong, I don’t need your help.”
“Let me go; I’ll do it myself in a moment.”
“It’s so late… you should just go back.”
His voice, tight with nerves, softened into something almost a whimper, though unmistakably unhappy.
Sheng Rufei looked at him. The youth’s face was red from his ears down, his wrists bound, his earlier irritation shifting into flustered discomfort, his skin practically turning rosy.
Sheng Rufei glanced at his own fingertips, thoughtful, then looked back at him.
His voice was cool.
“Comfortable?”
Lin Shijin went crimson. Anger rose instinctively, and he snapped back, “No.”
His face burned; he didn’t need a mirror to know how red he was. Otherwise Sheng Rufei wouldn’t be staring so fixedly.
Since he said no, Sheng Rufei asked nothing further, simply continued applying the medicine. This time, he avoided unnecessary touches.
They fell quiet. Lin Shijin felt the atmosphere turn odd… mostly because he himself was mortified. Sheng Rufei’s expression remained as calm as ever.
Sheng Rufei was always composed. Only he was panicking.
He stopped struggling, even forgot about the thread. A faint unhappiness simmered. Sheng Rufei had bullied him on purpose, so why was only he upset?
When Sheng Rufei finally loosened the red thread, he pulled down Lin Shijin’s inner garment and tied it neatly.
“Shixiong, don’t you think this is unfair?”
Lin Shijin watched him tie the sash. Sheng Rufei’s fingers were long and deft, the knot neat and elegant. It was much better than anything he tied himself.
“Only you can touch the red thread and bind me, and I can’t touch anything.”
Sheng Rufei gave a quiet “mm.” “It is unfair.”
Lin Shijin nearly said they ought to break the soul-bond soon, but swallowed it. Instead he said, “You bound me just now. Shouldn’t I bind you in return?”
Sheng Rufei paused slightly. “I bound you because you kept wriggling.”
The youth was always lively; even after the first day of bone-refinement, instead of being weak and listless, he was still spirited.
“That’s because you were tickling me. If I touched you, you’d react the same.”
Lin Shijin reached out, looping his arms around Sheng Rufei’s neck. He brushed him lightly with his fingertips. Sheng Rufei remained unmoved.
His fingers slipped across Sheng Rufei’s skin, the thumb brushing his Adam’s apple. Sheng Rufei looked at him without expression, his gaze sharp and cool.
Lin Shijin felt a faint sense of danger and shrank back. Then he remembered he couldn’t be cowardly, otherwise Sheng Rufei might very well take liberties and bind him with the red thread whenever he pleased.
So he forced himself to be serious. Meeting Sheng Rufei’s eyes, ears still burning, he whispered a warning.
“You’re not allowed to use the soul-bond to tie me up again.”
Sheng Rufei lowered his gaze and replied, his voice cool and clear,
“Last time, you said there could be exceptions for special circumstances.”
“This isn’t a special circumstance,” Lin Shijin said unhappily. He poked him with a fingertip… only to have his wrist caught.
“Next time, you need my permission. Otherwise…”
Sheng Rufei waited silently for him to finish.
Lin Shijin faltered. What else could he do? He couldn’t really threaten him.
“Otherwise…” He stared at Sheng Rufei, attempting a casual threat. “Otherwise I’ll tell everyone you’re my fiancé.”
