Lin Shijin’s wrist was seized, the strength of the grip astonishing. He tried to pull free, shrinking back a little, but Feng Rugao’s aura only grew colder.
“Shizun…”
He opened his mouth, then fell silent again, fingertips twitching ever so slightly, refusing to look at Feng Rugao’s expression.
Feng Rugao held his wrist and led him into the side hall, releasing him only once they had entered.
“Sit.”
The air between them was taut with tension. Lin Shijin did not obey, but instead asked quietly, “Does Shizun have something to say to me?”
Feng Rugao replied, “The wound on your back needs tending.”
Only then did Lin Shijin belatedly recall the lash mark across his back. He had been so concerned about Sheng Rufei that he had forgotten it entirely. Now the pain surged back, sharp as if silver needles had been embedded there, piercing deep into skin and bone.
Though it hurt, he made no sound. Instead he said, “I’ll deal with the wound when I return. There’s no need to trouble Shizun.”
He kept his gaze lowered. He knew how easily his emotions could be read. If he met Feng Rugao’s eyes now, the man would see straight through him.
Feng Rugao was silent for a long moment before asking, “Are you resenting me?”
Lin Shijin could feel the man’s gaze on him. Even if resentment stirred in his heart, he could not admit it, so he said nothing.
He remained where he was as Feng Rugao’s fingertips reached towards him. Instinctively, he drew back, stepping away. The man’s hand froze in mid-air.
“You’ve forgotten what I told you,” Feng Rugao said, voice low, reining in his temper so as not to startle the youth. “You are not to have further contact with him.”
“It’s my fault I kept seeing Shixiong. Why must Shizun punish him?”
Lin Shijin’s restraint finally snapped. His voice was quiet, but the tension in his fingertips betrayed him. He looked up, displeasure clear in his eyes.
“Why must Shizun interfere in everything, even who I associate with?”
Sheng Rufei was hardly an outsider. He was his shixiong, and Feng Rugao’s disciple too. And even if it were someone else, why should it matter so much?
The youth looked up, his gaze stripped of its usual gentleness. A sharpness glinted there, like thorns bared, no longer the soft temper he usually presented.
Feng Rugao studied that face, momentarily dazed. His aura drew inward, his eyes dark with something unreadable.
Why interfere.
Why interfere.
Why interfere.
He longed to tell him: this life of yours, I gave it to you. Everything you have, I have protected. I waited over a thousand years. How could I possibly let go?
“Sixteen carries a blood feud yet to be avenged. If you become entangled with him, he will drag you down. That is the first reason.” Feng Rugao paused, lowering his voice even further. “Secondly, your age. To act on budding affections now will hinder future cultivation. I do not want you entangled with anyone.”
Lin Shijin’s eyes reflected Feng Rugao’s face. He disliked being controlled and answered, “And if I become entangled with someone else? Will Shizun punish them all?”
Feng Rugao did not speak for a long time before finally saying, “If it happens again, you and Sixteen will never meet again.”
“As for others…” He recalled those who had taken liberties with the youth before. His voice chilled. “Whoever it is, I will not spare them either.”
Lin Shijin barely heard the second part. His thoughts had snagged on the first.
If there’s a next time… he and Sheng Rufei will never be allowed to meet again.
What did that mean?
“Shizun, what does that mean? What do you mean we’ll never have the chance to meet again?”
Was he planning to expel one of them?
“If the Changming Lock reacts again,” Feng Rugao said, touching the lock at his neck, “I will send him into the mortal world.”
At the words into the mortal world, Lin Shijin’s mind buzzed empty. His ears rang. Entering the mortal world to fall into the red dust once more.
His memories would be wiped clean. Only after tasting the full breadth of mortal joys and sorrows, awakening and remembering everything, could he return to the sect.
He remembered Jing Qiuhong’s warning: such trials would never fall on him. Feng Rugao meant for Sheng Rufei to suffer it in his stead.
He stood stunned for ages. The hall was so quiet he could almost hear shadows shifting outside the window. He looked at the man before him, lips trembling faintly.
“What if I refuse?”
How many times had he asked Feng Rugao something like this? Or was this the first? He had never used to ask such foolish questions.
Feng Rugao’s words were commands. Since when had his wishes ever mattered?
Silence settled between them. Receiving no reply, Lin Shijin watched as the man lowered his eyes, his figure receding into shadow and wordlessly gave the answer.
“I understand.” The pain in his back throbbed faintly. His heart grew calm. “If Shizun has nothing else, this disciple will take his leave.”
His expression carried a hint of cold distance. He no longer had anything to say. When Feng Rugao remained silent, he bowed and left Changming Hall.
The effects of the Snow Lotus Sacred Heart lingered. He was exhausted, walking slowly. His mood was low already, but once outside, the pain in his back flared even more sharply.
A glimmer of red caught his eye. Feng Qing had followed him. He halted.
“Young Master,” Feng Qing called, carrying a tray with the Snow Lotus Sacred Heart and some medicine. “Sword Master asks that you take this before returning.”
Lin Shijin paused, staring at the limp, lifeless mass of Snow Lotus Sacred Heart lying on the tray.
He swallowed it as though completing a task, refusing the remaining medicine.
“The side effects will persist for several days. If Young Master feels unwell, you may come to Changming Hall. Sword Master will watch over you.”
“No need,” Lin Shijin said, lips tightening.
“I will go to the Sword Pavilion as usual. If it becomes unbearable, I’ll remain in my own courtyard.”
Feng Qing hesitated but ultimately said nothing as the youth walked off, his figure fading from sight.
Inside Changming Hall, Feng Qing reappeared, glancing towards Feng Rugao seated by the window. Light filtered through the paper screen, casting fractured shadows. The man sat like a faded painting, his back steeped in quiet desolation.
For a thousand years, time outside had flowed on. Changming Hall had remained frozen… and his master trapped within.
“Why not simply tell him, Sword Master?” Feng Qing finally asked, unable to endure it. “If this continues, he will only grow further away.”
He had watched from the beginning. The youth’s view of his master had only worsened, drifting ever further.
The person stood before him, yet his heart was elsewhere. Feng Qing feared his master might one day lose himself entirely.
He knew the answer even as he asked. His master never acted to be understood… only out of willingness.
He refused to use gratitude as chains.
Yet even without gratitude, it seemed they had taken another path. He was using identity and authority to bind him.
“I retrieved the Snow Lotus Sacred Heart for him. Do you think he feels any gratitude?”
Feng Rugao’s voice was quiet. Feng Qing said nothing. He knew well. The lad felt no gratitude. If anything, he shrank from it, unwilling to owe his master debts he could never repay.
After a long silence, Feng Qing murmured, “Perhaps Sword Master is too strict… the Young Master dislikes being controlled. His temperament is clear. He responds to softness, not severity. He needs coaxing.”
“Perhaps…” Feng Rugao’s eyes lowered, lashes casting shadows. A worn portrait lay on the table of three young men, edges yellowed with time.
“Shouque was right.”
At the long-forgotten name, Feng Qing froze, colour draining from his face. He dropped to his knees at once.
“Sword Master. Absolutely not.”
*
After taking the Snow Lotus Sacred Heart, Lin Shijin wanted only to curl up somewhere familiar. He remembered his Shixiong had been whipped and wondered how he was now.
He hesitated before Sheng Rufei’s courtyard, fingers brushing the lock at his neck. He didn’t know why the Changming Lock had reacted. He hadn’t realised he’d had any stray thoughts about Sheng Rufei.
He was slow when it came to feelings. He pondered and pondered but found no answer. Surely a brief visit would be harmless.
But if Feng Rugao found out… would he punish Sheng Rufei again?
Lin Shijin stood there wavering for ages. Still, his concern for Sheng Rufei won out. Thinking of his Shixiong’s wounded back made his chest tighten, as though stuffed full of cotton.
He was uncomfortable, still hesitating at the gate, when it suddenly opened.
Sheng Rufei stood there, pallid. He had changed robes, his cold-pale fingertips resting lightly on the doorframe as he stepped aside.
“Shixiong…” Lin Shijin murmured, surprised to have been caught. “Your injuries… how are they?”
In the hall earlier, Sheng Rufei’s back had been a blood-soaked mess. How was he even out of bed?
“It’s nothing,” Sheng Rufei said, his lips almost as pale as his fingertips. “Come in.”
Lin Shijin followed him, seeing the freshly bandaged wounds already seeping blood. He said softly:
“Shixiong, I caused you to be punished. I’m sorry.”
His lips tightened. He had even forgotten to bring medicine. He had rushed here without thinking, empty-handed.
As he fretted, Sheng Rufei stopped. A moment later, Lin Shijin’s fingertips were gently taken. Sheng Rufei held his hand, his voice low.
“It has nothing to do with you.”
“Rather, I should ask you this… The Changming Lock reacted. Was it because you developed feelings for me?”
Lin Shijin slowly lifted his head, momentarily stunned. He met Sheng Rufei’s eyes. Usually cool and detached, they now held some faint, indescribable emotion, reflecting his own figure. It was almost as if he had been drawn into them entirely.
Something in his chest flared hot. He tried to speak, but his throat felt blocked. After a long moment his fingertips twitched, and he finally managed:
“I truly don’t know. Shizun told me the Changming Lock would sense my emotions, but I’ve never noticed anything… never felt anything unusual.”
