Lin Shijin felt something was a little off, yet when he looked at Sheng Rufei’s cool, impassive face, the man seemed to be speaking of something utterly ordinary.
He was curious, but had a vague sense that he shouldn’t agree so readily.
Meeting Sheng Rufei’s gaze, he mumbled, “You said you wanted to try it, but what if you tie me up like before and I can’t move at all?”
Wouldn’t he just be meat on a chopping board, a lamb waiting for slaughter?
Sheng Rufei gave a quiet hum. He didn’t tell the youth that even if he refused, he could still tie him up all the same. But since the boy didn’t want it, he had no wish to force him.
He preferred the youth to let him tie him up of his own accord.
“If you don’t wish to, then we won’t.”
Lin Shijin glanced at him, feeling that Sheng Rufei had read him through entirely. The more Sheng Rufei spoke like this, the more embarrassed he felt; he almost couldn’t stop himself from agreeing then and there.
That block of wood rarely talked nonsense, and his outward composure was always immaculate.
“We’ll speak of it tonight,” Lin Shijin said, dodging the matter.
They went downstairs. The so-called floating dumplings were simply tangyuan*. Here, they were cooked in osmanthus wine, fragrant and sweet. He asked the waiter for two bowls.
(*TN: glutinous rice balls.)
There were seats on the first floor. Lin Shijin chose a corner table and tugged Sheng Rufei down beside him.
There were plenty of patrons about. The group of men in hooded black robes still sat at the next table; they looked to be on assignment and staying at the inn for the time being.
Where there were crowds, mealtimes stretched out; most of the time was passed in idle chatter.
Lin Shijin stared at the steaming tea before him. Sheng Rufei had poured it for him.
“Thank you, Shixiong.”
He drew the tea towards himself. The men beside them were speaking freely, not bothering to lower their voices, and he caught snatches of their conversation.
“Where d’you think the Deputy Envoy’s gone? Off to have his fortune told?”
“He swears by all that nonsense… saying your fated one can be divined from your birth characters.”
“But the Deputy Envoy can’t read. What if he picks the wrong person?”
The men roared with laughter.
“He came into the city today. Might see him tonight.”
“Mind he doesn’t hear you.”
Looking forward to the floating dumplings, Lin Shijin listened in, realising they were scourge-slayers. His thoughts drifted. An illiterate Deputy Envoy?
He quickly reined his mind in as he spotted the waiter bringing the soup over. He made to get up, but Sheng Rufei pressed him down.
“I’ll fetch it. You stay here.”
“I’ll go with Shixiong.”
Lin Shijin trailed after him like a little tail. The hot soup bowls steamed richly. He spotted pastries and fruit as well and asked, hands tucked into his sleeves, “Do you sell pastries here?”
“All sorts, young master. If you’re in a top-tier room, you can have one serving for free.”
Lin Shijin turned to see Sheng Rufei carrying the soup away. He eyed the pastries with fruit, brightening a little at the thought of a free serving.
“Then I’ll have two. Do I only pay for one?”
The waiter beamed. “Young master is sharp indeed. That’s right. Two servings for the price of one.”
Someone seemed to have come in, and Lin Shijin caught it at the corner of his eye. He didn’t pay much heed. Remembering he had loose silver in his sleeve, he fumbled around, but instead of silver, he drew out his token.
He felt something that seemed like broken silver, and as he took it out, the token slipped and fell to the floor with a soft clatter. Finding the silver at last, he handed it to the waiter, hugged his pastries, and bent down to pick up the token.
Before he could touch it, a long, pale hand reached from the side and passed it back to him.
“Thank you,” Lin Shijin said. He glanced up; the young man wore a black hooded robe, his face obscured.
He accepted the token and tucked it absently back into his sleeve, then went off to find Sheng Rufei.
“Shixiong, the waiter gave us a serving of pastries,” Lin Shijin said, placing them on the small table. The scent of osmanthus drifted up, his eyes brightening slightly.
Before he could sit down, his wrist was caught. Sheng Rufei held him and asked, “Did you bump into someone just now?”
“No, my token just fell when I was taking out the silver.”
His fingertips twitched. Knowing Sheng Rufei was concerned, he lowered his voice. “I didn’t bump into anyone. I only bought pastries, and that person picked it up for me.”
Only then did Sheng Rufei slowly release him. Lin Shijin sat down happily, stirred the hot soup, and scooped up a rice ball.
The round little tangyuan gleamed, steeped in wine. The young man opposite watched him, his voice cool. “Slowly. Mind you don’t burn yourself.”
“I know.” Lin Shijin let it cool, blew gently, and tasted one. Sweetness melted on his tongue with a faint wine fragrance.
He liked it very much. But there was so much. The bowl was bigger than his face. He managed half before surrendering, reluctant to waste it but far too full. He pushed it towards Sheng Rufei.
“Shixiong, I can’t finish. You have it.”
Sheng Rufei had already finished his own bowl. Hearing this, he did not refuse; Lin Shijin watched as he finished the rest with his spoon.
The young man’s thin lips brushed the wooden spoon Lin Shijin had used. After watching a while, Lin Shijin felt faintly embarrassed. Was that… an indirect kiss with Shixiong?
His thoughts drifted. His gaze shifted aside… and there sat the youth who had picked up his token. He seemed to be a scourge-slayer as well.
After he arrived, the others had gone quiet, eating in silence like scolded hens.
So this was the illiterate Deputy Envoy?
Lin Shijin recalled that Cui Haoxue was also a deputy slayer among the scourge-slayers. Would they meet him on Wuxiang Mountain? Quite likely.
He watched Sheng Rufei set down the wooden spoon, then looked again… slightly puzzled. The blockhead’s ears were red.
“Shixiong, why have your ears gone red after eating floating dumplings?”
He pointed at Sheng Rufei’s ears.
“A bit warm,” Sheng Rufei said, expression unchanging. But seeing the youth gaze at him with such curiosity, he felt a touch awkward, his back stiffening.
“All right,” Lin Shijin said, eyeing him a few more times.
They didn’t linger downstairs for long; they had to travel the next day. As Lin Shijin went upstairs, he felt a faint, flickering gaze on his back.
After the two of them left, the scourge-slayers hardly dared to speak. They had been gossiping about their master, only to find him right behind them. Nothing could be more horrifying.
“Master, why didn’t you tell us you were coming?” one man coughed. They had stationed people at the gate, but evidently no one had received him.
Cui Haoxue said nothing. The image of the youth he had just passed rose in his mind. He was cradling pastries in his arms, an arrestingly pretty sight. When the token fell, he had instinctively bent to pick it up.
He thought he had glanced at the word on the token. He paused, thoughtful, eyes deepening…
The scourge-slayers, receiving no reply, exchanged uneasy looks. Their Deputy Envoy might be illiterate, but his skill was beyond question. They only dared mutter behind his back.
They waited. At length, they watched as their deputy slayer drew a crumpled note from his robes, his whole demeanour shifting.
“Lin Mianmian…” Cui Haoxue murmured the name. So he hadn’t been mistaken. That youth was the one he was seeking?
The sword bore Fuguang’s pattern as well. It must be him.
Cui Haoxue suddenly rose to his feet.
“Deputy Envoy?”
…
In his room, Lin Shijin opened the window. Fireworks burst outside; with the coming of the mortal world’s seasonal festival, the city was strung with colourful lanterns and flickering lights.
He watched for a while, finished his pastries, and felt quite blissful with such carefree days. When he was done, the waiter arrived with hot water.
A bath, and then he could sleep.
“Shixiong, I’m going to bathe,” Lin Shijin said. He had no wish to use a cleansing spell. He had bathed for seventeen years… he still preferred water upon his skin.
Sheng Rufei seemed to be studying a map. Lin Shijin glanced at it, understood little, and carried his underclothes to the side chamber behind the screen.
He spent some time bathing. When he emerged, he felt thoroughly steamed, as though he might be cooked through.
He was surprised to find Sheng Rufei no longer at the table with the map but seated at the bedside. There was only one bed in the room.
“Come here,” Sheng Rufei called.
Hair loose around his shoulders, Lin Shijin ambled over, looking at him. Sheng Rufei usually slept alone. Was he planning to sleep with him tonight?
“Bring me your clothes and your sword.”
Lin Shijin was a little puzzled, but he still obeyed, carrying over his outer robe and his sword. “Shixiong, what are you doing?”
Sheng Rufei said nothing. Once Lin Shijin was close enough, he took hold of the clasp on the scabbard, and a thread of invisible light sank into it.
The moment the light merged, Feng Rugao’s lingering aura vanished completely.
“All right.” Sheng Rufei released the clasp.
Lin Shijin was baffled. “What did Shixiong do?”
“There was an array on it. Shizun could watch our every move,” Sheng Rufei explained.
Lin Shijin froze for a moment, then belated panic crawled up his spine. His eyelids twitched uncontrollably.
Wasn’t he utterly doomed?
He had just promised Feng Rugao, before leaving Fuguang, that he would keep his distance from Sheng Rufei. If Feng Rugao learnt that he had scarcely been gone a moment before clinging to Sheng Rufei and refusing to let go.
He could hardly bear to imagine it.
His expression shifted far too visibly. Sheng Rufei asked,
“What did Shizun say to you?”
“Nothing…” Lin Shijin opened his mouth, but he couldn’t tell Sheng Rufei about Feng Rugao’s threat. The relationship between the two was already poor; if he mentioned it, it would only make things worse.
More importantly, Sheng Rufei might be upset.
“If Shizun sees me with you, he might punish the both of us,” Lin Shijin muttered. He was worried for a moment, but then relaxed quickly enough.
Punishment was punishment; it would only be after they returned. And perhaps, after ten days or half a month, Feng Rugao’s temper might subside.
After he said this, the youth opposite him shifted slightly. Sheng Rufei murmured, “If punishment is due, it should fall on me. Don’t fret… I’ll protect you.”
The last few words were soft, the youth’s cool voice as light as a feather. Yet they landed heavily upon the heart.
Lin Shijin felt secretly pleased. His heartbeat quickened, his face grew warm, and he mumbled, “I don’t want Shixiong getting hit either… I’d feel awful.”
The youth opposite lowered his gaze to him. Lin Shijin turned a little away, embarrassed, lowering his voice to a whisper, “…It’d hurt, you know.”
