As soon as he said this, Sheng Rufei’s expression shifted again. Lin Shijin squirmed under his gaze, his face growing even hotter.
“Shixiong, you destroyed Shizun’s array. Won’t Shizun notice that as well?”
Sheng Rufei gave a soft “Mm”, his lowered lashes casting a faint shadow. “Our journey to Wuxiang Mountain is long. We may not return for several months.”
There was another matter he could not tell the youth. Not yet.
“Shizun cannot leave Changming Hall. Every time he steps beyond it, he grows weaker. He won’t come after us over something like this.”
Lin Shijin recalled the last time Feng Rugao had taken him down the mountain. He had indeed sensed it: the moment Feng Rugao stepped out of Changming Hall, his face went pale and his body faintly translucent.
He had thought it was his imagination. Clearly, it was not.
“So Shixiong knew…” Lin Shijin hesitated. “If we go back…”
Even if Feng Rugao could not come to trouble them now, once they returned, Sheng Rufei would hardly escape unscathed.
“Do you know why I am going to Wuxiang Mountain?” Sheng Rufei asked, his tone cool as he lifted his gaze.
Lin Shijin shook his head. He didn’t know, but he rather liked Sheng Rufei’s way of treating him… with explanations, with serious discussion, with reasons offered plainly.
Sheng Rufei truly respected him. Treated him like a person.
Not like those others. Jun Yewu, Xue Ning. None of them deserved to be compared to Sheng Rufei, and Feng Rugao least of all.
He thought this quietly to himself and asked, “Then why is Shixiong going to Wuxiang Mountain?”
He thought Sheng Rufei would tell him. Instead, Sheng Rufei merely brushed his hand over his head, lightly rubbing his hair. “I’ll tell you another day.”
Lin Shijin: “…”
Shixiong had grown wicked. He was teasing him!
Lin Shijin grew faintly displeased. His curiosity clawed at him. He tugged insistently at Sheng Rufei’s sleeve. “Shixiong, you were about to say. How can you stop halfway?”
“Tell me; I won’t breathe a word.”
Sheng Rufei gave a small shake of his head. The coldness in his eyes eased by a fraction. “One should not speak lightly of things not yet achieved.”
Things not yet achieved? He hadn’t reached it yet?
Lin Shijin was baffled. By the standards of their age, Sheng Rufei was already leagues beyond their peers.
“Even if Shixiong doesn’t tell me, I’ll find out sooner or later.” Lin Shijin crawled into the bed, still turning it over in his mind. He glanced back at Sheng Rufei, who seemed intent on meditating by the bedside.
He could see the red thread around Sheng Rufei’s wrist. He stared at it, recalling what Sheng Rufei had said earlier that evening… as well as the method for breaking the soul-bond he had learnt before.
He didn’t particularly want to break it now. A delicate, subtle emotion stirred in his heart. The red thread tied him to Sheng Rufei; without it, something felt missing.
He had grown used to Sheng Rufei being able to find him in a crowd. Without that thread, perhaps he would lose him. And he himself might not be able to hold onto him.
Lin Shijin reflected and realised, rather sheepishly, that he might have grown a little possessive.
The candlelight softened the room. Sheng Rufei’s profile was cool and serene, a scroll held lightly between his fingers. It was something on barriers and incantations.
Lin Shijin felt that even Sheng Rufei himself looked softer in this light. “Shixiong, why do you like binding spells and barrier arts so much?”
At this, the youth beside the bed turned slightly, his cold gaze flickering. After a brief silence, he asked softly, “Do you want to know?”
He’d already asked once. Was Sheng Rufei teasing him again? Lin Shijin nodded. “Is this also something I can’t be told?”
Why did Sheng Rufei have so many secrets, not willing to reveal even one of them?
Sheng Rufei gave a quiet hum, looking at Lin Shijin’s faintly indignant expression. His fingers trembled slightly before he said, after a pause, “Another day.”
“How long is ‘another day’? Tomorrow? The day after? Next year? The year after that…”
Sheng Rufei did not reply.
The reason was simple. And a little shameful.
For him, there were very few things he could truly hold onto. He liked binding and barrier techniques because he wanted to hide away the things he loved… keeping them from being taken by anyone else.
Lin Shijin tossed and turned for a moment; he was genuinely annoyed now. This was the second time Sheng Rufei had left him hanging, and it felt entirely unfair.
He thought about it. Sheng Rufei knew almost everything about him. And whenever Sheng Rufei asked about something, he always answered honestly, from beginning to end.
Lin Shijin piped up again in a small, disgruntled voice. “I tell Shixiong everything, but Shixiong won’t tell me anything.”
He tugged at Sheng Rufei’s sleeve, his fingertips brushing his wrist.
Sheng Rufei set aside the scroll, took the youth’s wrist, and tucked him back under the covers. He even smoothed down the quilt at the corners. “Go to sleep early. We’ve a long journey tomorrow.”
Hearing that, the youth under the covers grew restless, fidgeting about. Sheng Rufei added, “Before we leave in the morning, I’ll buy you some pastries.”
Lin Shijin immediately behaved a little better. “Shixiong, are you going to meditate?”
A quiet hum. “If you can’t sleep, you may get up and meditate with me.”
Lin Shijin very much did not want to. He simply wanted to pester Sheng Rufei. All of Sheng Rufei’s attention was on that scroll, not on him. He wanted that attention back.
There came a soft rustling beside him. Sheng Rufei split a fraction of his focus, listening to the youth fidget. A moment later the movements stopped… only for his sleeve to be tugged.
“Shixiong, perhaps we could try…”
Lin Shijin was a little embarrassed to say it outright. He sat up, facing Sheng Rufei, the last few words stuck in his throat.
“It’s… the soul-bond.” Meeting Sheng Rufei’s gaze, he murmured, “We still don’t really understand it.
“Shall we try it now?”
The moment he finished speaking, he wasn’t sure if he was imagining things, but Sheng Rufei’s gaze seemed to shift. Those lowered eyes rested on him; the scroll was slowly set aside.
“Truly?”
Lin Shijin hesitated under that look, a strange mistrust of his own courage rising up, but it was too late to take the words back.
“Then let us try.” There was no one else about. It would be better to understand the soul-bond sooner rather than later.
Sheng Rufei put the scroll away. The red thread at his wrist unfurled into fine strands. “Wait for me here.”
Lin Shijin blinked, uncomprehending. He waited at the edge of the bed until Sheng Rufei returned, a strip of white silk between his fingertips.
“Shixiong, what’s that for?”
“The red thread will blur your senses. It’s better to cover your eyes.”
Lin Shijin had always trusted Sheng Rufei. When the youth approached, he lifted his face slightly. The silk ribbon was cool as it settled across his eyes. He caught the faint scent of fallen plum blossom. “Is this Shixiong’s hair ribbon?”
A quiet sound of assent. With his sight gone, every other sense sharpened. Sheng Rufei’s fingertips brushed lightly against his skin, a delicate sensation blooming there.
Once the ribbon was tied, Sheng Rufei withdrew. With the darkness absolute, Lin Shijin could see nothing. The absence of light made him listen even more closely.
He felt the red thread lightly brush his wrist, fine strands winding round him. It had often grazed him in the past.
“The soul-bond is written on the marriage contract. The red thread binds us. Do you know what that usually signifies?”
Unable to see, Lin Shijin grew uneasy. His fingers reached out tentatively, brushing a corner of Sheng Rufei’s robes. He relaxed a little and softly tugged at them.
“I don’t know. Does Shixiong?”
“I have only a guess.” Sheng Rufei’s voice came close to his ear, as if checking the knot of the hair ribbon. His breath traced his skin, making him shrink a little.
His ear grew hot. Still holding on to Sheng Rufei’s robe, he murmured, “Oh,” and sat obediently still.
“How does Shixiong mean to test it? You’re not going to tie me up, are you?”
He certainly did not want to be tied up.
His ear was tapped lightly. “I’m not tying you.”
Lin Shijin turned slightly towards the sound, the silk brushing his face. Curiosity prickled at him. His attention fixed entirely on himself. Then he felt the red thread climbing up from his wrist. At first, it circled his neck, hanging softly, then brushing his chin, the corner of his lips, his cheek.
It tickled. He instinctively reached out to scratch, only to grasp at air. He remembered that he could not touch the red thread. Only Sheng Rufei could.
He thought little of it, until the thread slipped down his collar and rested against his chest. A jolt of awareness ran through him. His face flushed scarlet.
“Shixiong… what is that?”
He had just let go of Sheng Rufei. Now, unable to feel him, he asked again. Sheng Rufei still didn’t respond. Lin Shijin could feel a cold, measuring gaze on him.
“Shixiong—”
Suddenly he felt afraid. And something else… an uneasy, creeping sensation. Especially when the thread touched over his heart, he felt as though something within him were vanishing.
“Shixiong, I’m scared.”
Panic flared. He reached out blindly, finding no one. Instinctively, he leaned forwards. But Sheng Rufei didn’t answer, and the silence made his heart pound painfully.
The red thread had reached his heart. He felt it… fine, intangible strands winding into him, threading through the meridians.
A tugging force pulled. A dull ache bloomed in his chest. His face paled. “It hurts,” he whispered, trembling, pressing a hand to the bed for support.
“Shixiong, it hurts…”
He moved forwards without realising he was at the edge of the bed. Just as he tipped into empty air, he collided with warmth. Sheng Rufei had caught him.
“I’m right here. I haven’t gone.” Sheng Rufei felt the damp chill on the youth’s forehead.
“Where does it hurt?” he asked softly.
“Here.” Lin Shijin touched his chest. There was a hollow, aching emptiness there. Curled against Sheng Rufei, the earlier terror of not finding him still lingered terribly. He clutched at Sheng Rufei’s clothes.
“It hurts, Shixiong… it hurts so much.”
Sheng Rufei had already withdrawn the red thread. He had not expected such a reaction. Seeing the youth like this filled him with a faint guilt.
“It’s my fault. I didn’t think it through.” His fingers twitched slightly; his voice gentled, tinged with helplessness. “Where else does it hurt?”
Everything felt empty. Lin Shijin could not fill the hollow inside him. Only Sheng Rufei’s closeness eased it. His grip tightened, his voice dropping low.
“Everywhere. I called out for Shixiong earlier. Why didn’t you answer me?”
Saying it out loud made the emptiness yawn even wider. His mood plunged. He didn’t understand what was happening to him.
Even in Sheng Rufei’s arms he felt unsafe, yearning desperately for him to do something—anything—to anchor him. Not leave him. Not let him suffer alone.
He wanted…needed to feel Sheng Rufei truly there with him.
He wanted to melt into him.
*
Author’s Note:
The “Lin Mianmian” Cui Haoxue is reading is indeed Lin Shijin. His literacy is poor… he mistook the character “Jin” (锦) for “Mian” (绵), and assumed the “Si” (似) in the middle was written in cursive, essentially two “Mian.”
