The air seemed to quieten. Lin Shijin felt Sheng Rufei’s fingertips tighten ever so slightly around him. His face burned scarlet from the tips of his ears down to the base of his neck; he was so mortified he wished the earth would swallow him whole. He buried his face in Sheng Rufei’s chest, utterly unwilling to see his expression.
If Sheng Rufei were to ask him now why he had made that sound, he would probably faint on the spot and play dead.
In Sheng Rufei’s arms, he could sense the other’s gaze on him. His fingers curled into Sheng Rufei’s robes, his ears scorching.
Thankfully, Sheng Rufei did not ask. He merely paused for a moment before swiftly carrying him towards the medicinal spring.
Lin Shijin mentally counted the number of times he had embarrassed himself in front of Sheng Rufei, and found that even two hands wouldn’t be enough. He had lost face far too often.
At least this time he had only let out a gasp. It was better than going into heat against Sheng Rufei in the secret realm.
Only after leaving the secret realm had he realised what state he’d been in. He hadn’t merely been clingy, he’d been rubbing against Sheng Rufei nonstop. Fortunately, drugged by Xue Ning’s concoction, sleep had outweighed everything else and he had quickly dozed off.
The youth carried him to the medicinal spring. The water was warm, and he was placed inside.
Sheng Rufei released the hot potato he had been holding, tossing the youth into the spring. His fingertips twitched faintly, barely tamping down the flutter in his chest.
“You need to soak for two hours. If you feel uncomfortable, you may stay in for as long as you like.”
The water was warm, with a lingering herbal fragrance. As Lin Shijin sank into it, he felt his limbs gradually coming back to life.
His fingers regained movement first, then his arms. It felt as though his body were dissolving into the water… like a fish slipping back into its river, like returning to a warm nest.
The heat in his face eased slightly. His long black hair floated loosely at his sides as he asked, “Can I stay in the medicinal spring indefinitely?”
“If your body doesn’t adapt, soak for two hours and then come out. Continue for the next few days. It will suppress the Snow Lotus Sacred Heart’s assimilation.”
If he did adapt, staying in the spring indefinitely was not out of the question.
Lin Shijin murmured an “oh,” soaking quietly while Sheng Rufei kept watch beside him. Sheng Rufei remained cool and composed, leaning with his sword against the stone wall, long lashes lowered, ink-dark eyes half-hidden, lips moving faintly as if reciting something.
Lin Shijin looked around. Sword marks covered the stone wall. Long strokes, deep gouges, lighter scratches. Following them with his eyes, he realised they were all carved by Sheng Rufei.
Water dripped from the ceiling. At the edge of the spring, he spotted pastries and a pot of tea. He shuffled closer and touched one of the pastries. They were still warm.
Had Sheng Rufei prepared these for him?
He wandered from one side of the spring to the other. As he moved, he splashed water, droplets landing on his hair and cheeks, blurring his features in a light mist.
“Shixiong, are these for me?”
His voice drifted over. Sheng Rufei was still murmuring his calming mantra and had been avoiding looking at him. But hearing Lin Shijin call him, he opened his eyes.
The steam curled upwards. Lin Shijin’s hair drifted around him like ink in water; his complexion was pale and lovely, lashes lowered, a faint smile on his lips. He resembled a pure lotus blooming in the mist… clean, delicate, quietly enticing.
Sheng Rufei could still hear that hushed gasp echoing in his ears. His blood, moments ago placid as still water, now surged violently once more.
He tightened his grip on his sword. On the stone wall before him, the word “Restraint” was carved in large characters. He spared the youth in the spring only a fleeting glance before turning his eyes away.
“Mm.” His voice was slightly hoarse.
Pleased, Lin Shijin turned his attention back to the snacks… and noticed some small fruits beside them. They looked like the ones from the back mountain of the Sword Pavilion.
He had eyed them many times during sword practice. Sheng Rufei really had noticed.
Since Sheng Rufei had picked them, they must be edible.
Without turning back, Lin Shijin squeezed one and said, “Shixiong, I’m going to try one.”
Sheng Rufei did not respond. They had been prepared for him; he could eat anything there.
Lin Shijin tried a fruit. It resembled a tiny tomato, but more vibrant, with a rosy tint, and smelled sweet and fresh.
He lingered in the spring, tasting fruit, nibbling pastries, sipping the hot tea. His whole demeanour was bright and cheerful.
The lock around his neck swayed. Two hours were somewhat long, and the lock felt annoyingly heavy. He tugged at it again but couldn’t loosen it.
Unable to stay still, he soon drifted over to disturb Sheng Rufei again.
Sheng Rufei was meditating at the spring’s edge. Lin Shijin called, “Shixiong.”
“Shixiong, did you carve all those marks on the stone wall?”
The youth leaning against the wall glanced over and hummed in response.
Flushed from the rising steam, Lin Shijin asked, “What do the deep and shallow cuts mean?”
He recalled Jing Qiuhong’s words and realised he didn’t truly know much about Sheng Rufei. Sheng Rufei was taciturn, rarely speaking about himself.
“That’s a spirit-testing stone. You sweep it with sword qi; the deeper the mark, the higher the cultivation.”
Sheng Rufei’s gaze lingered on the stone. The newest mark that had been made a month ago was half a foot deep, like a long crack splitting the stone.
His cultivation had progressed rapidly… but still not fast enough.
It was said that Feng Rugao had cleaved the spirit-testing stone in two within three years.
Lin Shijin took a closer look. The marks varied in depth, but the recent ones were unmistakably deep, like bottomless fissures cut into rock.
“Shixiong is amazing.” Lin Shijin said this sincerely, fingertips brushing the soft pastries. Seeing Sheng Rufei’s progress made him genuinely pleased.
The youth who received the praise merely stayed silent. Two hours drifted by; Lin Shijin felt he could soak longer.
“Shixiong, you don’t need to stay with me. I’ll soak a bit more. You can go back first.”
Since he did have his own matters to attend to, Sheng Rufei replied quietly, “Call me if anything happens. If you want to leave, I’ll come fetch you.”
“Alright.”
Lin Shijin watched him leave. He soaked in silence for a while. He hadn’t felt anything while Sheng Rufei was present, but now that he had gone, an odd discomfort crept in.
The empty surroundings felt unsettling. He couldn’t stay alone in the spring.
He climbed out, dressed, and just as he was feeling refreshed. His entire body suddenly sagged with bone-deep laziness, as if every muscle had turned slack.
He heard that voice again, the Snow Lotus Sacred Heart grumbling in his ear:
“So tired, waaah… why can’t I lie down?”
Lin Shijin: “…”
His smile stiffened and he hesitated. Should he return to the spring to suppress the laziness, or go look for Sheng Rufei?
He had already soaked for two hours. Staying longer wouldn’t change much.
He decided quickly. He could still move; he was merely mentally influenced by the Snow Lotus Sacred Heart, which made even walking feel exhausting.
He just wanted somewhere soft to curl up like a little mushroom and not move at all.
He dragged himself from the spring room into the main chamber… and saw Sheng Rufei at the tea table.
Sheng Rufei appeared to be arranging scrolls. Bottles and jars were laid across the table.
At the sound of movement, Sheng Rufei looked up. “Finished soaking?”
Lin Shijin trudged over, feeling even his emotions dulled into a strange lethargy. He gave a soft “mm” and sat beside him.
The stool was cold; he wriggled uncomfortably and asked, “Shixiong, what are you doing?”
“Reading the records of Wuxiang Mountain,” Sheng Rufei replied. “This time, it’s not only the immortal sect disciples going. There will be Scourge-Slayer Envoys as well.”
The Scourge-Slayer Envoys had become an independent force. Lin Shijin skimmed the list of names, glancing casually… until he saw a familiar one:
Cui Haoxue.
The stock-investor gong of the original novel, a prodigious scourge-slayer, already well-known on the Four Peaks as the newly-appointed deputy commander.
Lin Shijin glanced away immediately, a twinge of dread rising. First Xue Ning, then Jun Yewu, and now Cui Haoxue.
He had to avoid him at all costs. Meeting a gong from the original book only ever meant trouble. Plot disasters meant for Sheng Rufei would shift onto him.
But then… if he avoided Cui Haoxue, Sheng Rufei might meet him instead. Intercepting these encounters was, in a sense, shielding Sheng Rufei. Ever since his involvement, Sheng Rufei had not suffered the original plot.
His inner struggle didn’t last long. The hallucination returned:
“So tired… can I lie down…?”
The Snow Lotus Sacred Heart was all but calling in his ear. Lin Shijin was affected by it; he would instinctively seek out whichever place he found most comfortable, and once there, he would simply curl up and stay.
And the place he found most comfortable… was Sheng Rufei’s arms.
But they were no longer in the secret realm, and he wasn’t an idiot. What on earth did it mean for him to go and burrow into Sheng Rufei’s embrace out here?
Lin Shijin lingered beside him instead, thick-skinned enough to quietly soak in Sheng Rufei’s presence.
The youth before him sat with a straight back, silver-white hair falling like frost, his features strikingly vivid, lips thin and tinged red. His pale fingers held a brush, each character he wrote elegant and orderly, every stroke appearing as though carved into jade.
Lin Shijin watched for a while. Then, he found he liked him more and more the longer he looked. A restless impulse rose within him; he couldn’t help wanting to lean closer, to press against Sheng Rufei.
He forced himself to look away, worried that if he continued he would repeat the same mistake. Moving at a snail’s pace, he stood up.
“Shixiong… I’m going to sleep.”
Lin Shijin clambered onto Sheng Rufei’s bed. The bedding was steeped in Sheng Rufei’s scent. He buried himself inside, rolling about, turning over and over, utterly unable to settle.
He made quite a racket. Sheng Rufei looked over to see the youth huddled beneath the quilt like a shifting mound, wriggling and squirming, resting whenever he grew tired, only to start again once he had caught his breath.
His gaze dropped to the text on the table. It recorded information about the Snow Lotus Sacred Heart. It stated how such a sacred object preferred to stay in whichever place it favoured, unnaturally nest-loving.
If embodied in a youth… the youth might well become unusually clingy.
Lin Shijin was still writhing about when a shadow fell over him. Sheng Rufei had walked to the bedside.
“Shixiong?”
He blinked up, startled. Sheng Rufei stood there with his eyes lowered, fingertips shifting almost imperceptibly, his voice dropping a few degrees.
“Do you want to sleep in my arms?”
Lin Shijin nearly thought he had misheard. He met Sheng Rufei’s gaze, and from within that cool, indifferent depth, he seemed to catch the faintest trace of tenderness. Only a trace, yet enough to seem as though it could sink directly into his heart.
His heartbeat thudded slowly, one measured beat after another, something soft and slender winding itself around his chest… tight, but sweet.
“How did you know, Shixiong?” Lin Shijin mumbled. He thought he had hidden it well. If one ignored the way he kept sneaking glances at Sheng Rufei’s arms.
He waited eagerly for Sheng Rufei’s reply, all his attention fixed on him, completely oblivious as the lock around his neck tightened once more, pressing closely against his skin. The two characters Changming glinted coldly in the dim light.
