Lin Shijin had been sneaking looks, and very quickly noticed Sheng Rufei’s gaze fall upon him. Caught in the act, he flushed with embarrassment and hurriedly averted his eyes.
They walked back together. He ate the sweet Elder Song had given him, the sugary taste spreading warmly between his teeth.
Every so often, Lin Shijin would risk another glance at Sheng Rufei’s face, then at his lips.
He was conflicted. It felt as though Jing Qiuhong had tricked him. Wasn’t this essentially encouraging him to take the initiative and get close to Sheng Rufei? And if he really did get close, and the soul-bond hadn’t been dissolved yet, how on earth was he supposed to explain himself?
Besides, in the original text, Sheng Rufei loathed anyone making improper advances towards him because of his past. The only reason he had been willing to get close before was that Lin Shijin had been injured, they were fellow disciples, and Lin Shijin had never entertained any ulterior thoughts.
If he approached Sheng Rufei with intention now, Sheng Rufei might simply take his head off with one stroke. Forget being brothers afterwards.
Lin Shijin tangled himself in knots over it, but arrived at no answer. He nearly walked straight into someone, and a hand shot out to steady him.
“Watch where you’re going,” Sheng Rufei said, holding his wrist with a slight furrow between his brows.
“Something on your mind?”
Lin Shijin instinctively leaned towards him, but the faint scent of fallen plum blossoms clinging to Sheng Rufei made him retreat uneasily. “No… thank you, Shixiong.”
They returned to their respective courtyards. From a distance, he saw a figure dressed in red standing outside his door, and his eyelids twitched involuntarily.
After four or five days, his injuries had more or less healed, and Feng Rugao sent Feng Qing to fetch him. Had he calculated the timing?
No one knew how long Feng Qing had been waiting. Dressed in a blaze of scarlet robes, he said, “Young Master, Sword Master requests your presence.”
At those four words, Lin Shijin felt his scalp prickle. He stood frozen and asked, “For what matter does Shizun summon me?”
Feng Qing didn’t hide it. “A few days ago, Young Master was injured, so Sword Master did not call for you. Now that your wounds are nearly healed, it is time to continue refining your bones.”
How did Feng Rugao know the exact day his injuries healed? He wondered, but did not dare voice the question. It was because his wounds had indeed almost completely faded.
Most of them were bruises. Those that bled had healed swiftly and disappeared by the next morning.
Lin Shijin let out a reluctant “Oh,” then glanced towards Sheng Rufei’s courtyard, only to see Sheng Rufei looking in their direction. When Lin Shijin met his gaze, Sheng Rufei turned back inside.
“Young Master, please,” Feng Qing prompted.
Lin Shijin had the vague sense that Feng Qing wanted to say something, but in the end said nothing at all.
He followed without asking further. The agony of the previous bone-tempering was still vivid in his mind. He had been lucky enough to faint the first time, but he couldn’t rely on fainting every time.
They soon reached Changming Hall. The side hall door stood open. Feng Rugao was absent; Feng Qing withdrew. Lin Shijin hesitated only a moment before entering.
“Shizun?” he called. He saw the tall figure standing beside the medicinal spring. Feng Rugao turned when he heard him.
“How are your injuries?” Feng Rugao asked.
“Almost healed.” Lin Shijin retreated half a step, eyeing the bubbling medicinal spring. “Shizun, must I continue soaking in the spring?”
“Soaking is only the first step,” Feng Rugao replied. “Afterwards you must refine your inner strength. I will temper your bones with spiritual power.”
That sounded painful. Lin Shijin looked again at the medicinal spring. “Shizun, last time I came out of the spring covered in injuries.”
“What if I become injured again today?”
“I shall give you time to recover,” Feng Rugao said evenly.
So… three days of training, two days of resting. How was that supposed to work?
Feng Rugao seemed to see through him. “Until your body adapts to the medicinal spring and no longer sustains injury.”
Lin Shijin felt faintly speechless. Who trains like this? As he was thinking it, Feng Rugao instructed him to enter the spring, and he reluctantly began to undress.
He deliberately slowed down, and Feng Rugao simply watched without hurrying him. He worried about the pain; he also worried that Jun Yewu was loose outside, which meant two potential enemies waiting for him beyond these walls.
If his cultivation didn’t improve, what would he do when he encountered Xue Ning or Jun Yewu?
He continued to fumble at his garments, and the man beside him remained patient. Eventually he found he couldn’t loosen the knot. Only then did he realise he had tied a dead knot.
The moment grew awkward. Meeting Feng Rugao’s calm eyes, he pressed his lips together. “Shizun, I can’t untie it.”
The youth was indecisive, slow in all things. Left to his own devices, he might very well still be undressing next year.
He was, of course, stalling for time. His fingertips were still on the tie when they brushed cool fingers instead. A shadow fell over him.
Feng Rugao stood close, tilting his head slightly to undo the knot Lin Shijin had tied that morning.
He did not stop at the one knot. He undid all the others. His fingers paused briefly at Lin Shijin’s bare waist.
Lin Shijin understood. Once, Feng Rugao had given him a jade pendant. In anger, he hadn’t worn it. And it was inconvenient during sword practice. He didn’t know any of those flashy techniques that let one perform sword flowers while keeping a jade pendant intact.
“Shizun, it gets in the way when I practise.”
He explained. Feng Rugao said nothing, only removed the rest of his clothing and said, “If you will not go down, I shall carry you.”
Like last time? Just the thought suffocated him. Back then, Feng Rugao had pinned him in place while he writhed in agony.
The feeling of being controlled was far from pleasant. Instinctively, he stepped aside, putting distance between them.
He tested the water with his hand first. It didn’t seem as painful as before. Meeting Feng Rugao’s cold gaze, he braced himself. He’d never been so bold to do so before… And then he stepped in.
The pain returned instantly, sharp and stinging along his skin, but it no longer pierced straight into the bones.
Perhaps the memory of last time had been too traumatising; compared to that, this wasn’t so frightening. Still tense, he asked, “Shizun, how long today?”
“One shichen,” Feng Rugao answered, stepping into the spring as well, standing not far from him.
The same duration.
Lin Shijin was fully conscious this time. He touched the medicinal liquid. Yes, it wasn’t as bad… but it still hurt. A burning sensation rose belatedly.
His face gradually drained of colour as familiar pain swept through him: as though silver needles were pricking every inch of his skin, as though the marrow itself were aflame. He wavered, barely able to stand.
Feng Rugao watched him closely. He had already used a spell to reduce the usual pain by a third. Even so, the youth seemed unable to endure.
Too delicate.
Lin Shijin lasted a quarter of a shichen. Sweat trickled down his forehead, his vision doubled, and the burning in his feet made him stagger.
The medicinal spring was small; after several unsteady steps he drifted closer to Feng Rugao who remained entirely unaffected.
It felt as though a blazing fire had ignited in his chest, swallowing his organs one by one. He couldn’t even make a sound since he had no strength.
A voice seemed to whisper in his mind that being closer to Feng Rugao would ease the pain. But hadn’t he vowed last time that he’d rather die than go near him again?
If he went now, wouldn’t he be slapping his own face?
He still had the clarity to feel that Feng Rugao was doing this deliberately. Last time he’d been angry; Feng Rugao simply didn’t care. And now he watched from nearby.
No matter how wretched Lin Shijin looked, Feng Rugao didn’t move. It seemed as though he was waiting for him to come over on his own.
He met Feng Rugao’s eyes across the spring. Feng Rugao’s gaze was calm, emotion concealed as always.
The medicinal liquid soaked through his robes and into his skin. His head throbbed, his cheeks reddened unnaturally, his fair skin mottled with patches of harsh red.
Too conspicuous, too distressing to look at.
His will could not withstand the pain any longer. He tried to clamber out again. This time, Feng Rugao did nothing to stop him. Because an invisible barrier did the work.
He rebounded, stumbling backwards, swallowing mouthfuls of the medicinal liquid, coughing violently.
He crashed into a firm chest. Eyes stinging from the burning liquid, he could barely see. The man behind him steadied him.
Feng Rugao’s cool fingers closed around his wrist. Instantly, the pain subsided. Those fingers, cold and faintly scented with medicine, eased the agony wherever they touched.
Being close to Feng Rugao made it stop hurting.
All his earlier bravado evaporated. Hearing the splash of water, he clung to Feng Rugao with both hands, at first lightly.
The man’s light-coloured eyes deepened slightly. He lowered his gaze, allowing him to lean closer without a word.
“Shizun…” Lin Shijin spoke first. He couldn’t bear it. He saw double, saw several versions of Feng Rugao swimming in his vision.
“Shizun, it hurts… it hurts so much, I can’t bear it.”
“Please… let me out…”
His tenuous grip tightened. He slumped fully into Feng Rugao’s arms, fingers clutching the man’s robes. Here, the pain melted away.
His slender white fingers curled into the fabric. His dark hair spilled down his back. A feverish flush coloured his delicate face, turning his features hazy. When he looked up, there was a faint, pleading light in his eyes.
Soon he couldn’t even keep himself upright. Before he collapsed entirely, Feng Rugao caught him around the waist, and Lin Shijin slumped fully against his chest.
Just before he passed out, he faintly felt Feng Rugao’s body stiffen for a moment.
