The carriage rocked as they travelled. Sword-flight was forbidden in the Three Thousand Worlds City. Seeing Sheng Rufei preparing to step out again, Lin Shijin asked, “Shixiong, why are they following us?”
Sheng Rufei had disappeared suddenly earlier. Curious, Lin Shijin had lifted the curtain and spotted a carriage behind them. Its panels were carved with that same crescent-moon sword motif. The driver, the scourge-slayer, looked familiar.
Of course. It was the same man from outside the inn.
They had gone in the opposite direction earlier, and yet here they were, trailing doggedly. Heaven knew why.
Lin Shijin lifted the curtain once more for a sneaky look. Their pursuers’ carriage kept an impeccable distance. It wasn’t close enough to be threatening, not far enough to lose sight of them. Annoyingly persistent. They tried shaking them off, but the slayers always caught up again.
Almost as if they were doing it on purpose.
Following his line of sight, he saw the scourge-slayer still chewing his stalk of grass. Upon meeting Lin Shijin’s eyes, he raised an eyebrow at him from afar.
Lin Shijin: “…”
He silently lowered the curtain again.
“I’ve no idea,” Sheng Rufei replied calmly. “Best not to provoke them.”
Lin Shijin watched him step out. Sheng Rufei had originally left a puppet to handle the reins. It was one that could only follow simple commands and hadn’t spoken a word the entire journey.
He had long noticed Sheng Rufei’s guarded nature. In every matter, he trusted others very little. If something could be done by his own hand, he relied on no one else.
Now the puppet was gone, replaced by Sheng Rufei himself. Sitting at the front, his pale fingers held the reins. He spoke quietly: “Hold tight.”
Lin Shijin tugged at Sheng Rufei’s robe from behind. “Alright—”
Then came the rush of pounding hooves, followed by a sharp bang. Their carriage surged forward in an impossible arc. Lin Shijin stared in shock. He almost tumbled head-first into the carriage, saved only by clutching Sheng Rufei’s robe… though he still slid helplessly.
The black hood slipped back, revealing Sheng Rufei’s silver hair streaming in the wind. Lin Shijin cried out, “Shixiong!” then clung to him with both hands to avoid falling.
The hooves struck the ground heavily. A whistle of wind tore past. The entire carriage rocked with the momentum. Lin Shijin nearly flew off the platform, gripping Sheng Rufei like his life depended on it, hair in complete disarray.
Their speed had doubled, at least. He swallowed several lungfuls of cold wind before daring another backward glance. The crescent-moon carriage was gone.
“Shixiong, can we really shake them off?” he asked, still clinging to Sheng Rufei’s back, his lips practically brushing Sheng Rufei’s ear. His words were half-carried away by the wind.
“Unknown.” Sheng Rufei glanced at the map. He allowed the youth to cling to him, pale knuckles tight on the reins. “It’s freezing out here. It’ll be several hours before we arrive. Go inside.”
“I’m not cold at all when I’m holding Shixiong,” Lin Shijin murmured, tugging at his sleeve. “If I go inside I’ll probably crash into a wall. It’s safer holding onto Shixiong.”
The wind was indeed sharp. Lin Shijin brushed against his Shixiong’s skin; Sheng Rufei was the exact opposite of him. He was warm like a small furnace.
“Shixiong, I really did dream of someone who looks exactly like me last night. I wasn’t lying. He said all sorts of things.”
They were travelling along a narrow mountain path. A gloomy forest stretched into the distance. They passed the occasional village, the occasional ruined temple which appeared half-collapsed, long surrendered to time.
“What sort of person do you think he is?”
Sheng Rufei listened carefully, the youth’s breath brushing his ear as he spoke. “Has he only appeared today, or did he appear before?”
“He’s appeared before. He called me an idiot… and said I’m always seducing men.”
Lin Shijin, aggrieved, hugged him and whispered, “Shixiong… could he be some kind of demon? But he knows Shizun, and he knows a lot about things that happen around me.”
“Shizun?” Sheng Rufei paused ever so slightly. “What did he say about Shizun?”
Lin Shijin replied, “He told me there’s a sword waiting for me. That I must win first place on Wuxiang Mountain. And he said that if I lose this chance, Shizun will lock me up when I return.”
Sheng Rufei didn’t speak for a while. Then he said quietly, “Do not repeat this to anyone else.”
Lin Shijin half-understood but nodded. “Does Shixiong know something?”
“Perhaps… a prophecy.”
“People have a past, a present, and a future. The past is your previous life; the present is you; the future is your next incarnation.”
Sheng Rufei said, “There are records in old texts of an immortal sect disciple who once dreamt of a strange place. It’s a place that would grant him immortal fate. He followed the path shown in his dream, found a sacred relic, and later ascended smoothly to stand among the mighty.”
“Dreams like that are guidance… omens. A good sign. There is another kind, however… when your mind is unsettled and something unclean has latched onto you.”
He sensed no demonic taint on the youth. Anything foul leaves cracks, and he had detected none… unless the creature’s cultivation was so profound it left no trace at all.
“How it truly is, we’ll see soon enough. Jinyue Temple isn’t far. Let’s go.”
“It was only a dream,” Lin Shijin murmured, surprised Sheng Rufei had taken his rambling to heart. Looping an arm around him, he whispered, “I think what he said was a warning of sorts.”
“That I should take first place at Wuxiang Mountain? As if it were that easy.”
He couldn’t even take first at Fuguang. Wuxiang Mountain gathered prodigies from every region; it was practically harder than ascending to heaven.
“Shixiong, you should go and win first place and show those elders,” Lin Shijin said brightly. “No one could beat you!”
He remembered the original plot. Sheng Rufei had taken first with effortless grace, leaving every so-called genius faintly ashamed, his aura of a natural favourite standing unshaken.
Sheng Rufei made no reply. As the youth chattered, his fingertips stirred slightly. Then he asked, quite suddenly, “Do you wish to leave Fuguang?”
“Where would I go if I left Fuguang?” Lin Shijin rummaged in his robe and pulled out a warm packet of pastries. It was the ones Sheng Rufei had bought him that morning. “You’re at Fuguang, Shixiong. I won’t leave.”
“What if I were no longer there?”
“Where would Shixiong go?” Lin Shijin freed a hand, popped a pastry into his mouth, then wiped his crumb-dusted fingers on Sheng Rufei’s clothes.
“If you left, what would I do?” he complained softly. “Shixiong, are you going to abandon me?”
The youth’s soft little question held no threat at all, yet that very softness struck at the heart the most. Sheng Rufei stayed silent.
He had been weighing up how to speak when something caught his eye. The youth had been using him as a handkerchief, having smeared pastry crumbs across his shoulder.
Lin Shijin, quite pleased with himself, was about to wipe his hand again when his fingers were caught. Sheng Rufei’s breath dipped a fraction. After a moment, he said, “There’s a handkerchief inside. Don’t wipe things on me.”
Lin Shijin withdrew his hand, well aware of Sheng Rufei’s tidiness, and patted his robe. “All right.”
They travelled until nightfall, long having shaken off the scourge-slayers behind them, yet Sheng Rufei remained wary and led them along a longer route to a different city.
By dusk they arrived, but they did not enter. The gates were closed at night; only special cases were allowed through.
So they spent the night in a dilapidated temple outside the walls.
Sheng Rufei lit a fire and laid several layers of straw in a corner, covering it with an outer robe for him to sleep on.
Wrapped in Sheng Rufei’s robe, watching the unsteady glow of the flames, and knowing Sheng Rufei would keep watch, Lin Shijin drifted off contentedly.
Before sleep claimed him, he glanced at Sheng Rufei. He seemed tired as well, leaning lightly against the wall, firelight dancing over his cheek, eyelashes faintly lowered.
Lin Shijin watched him for a while and realised Sheng Rufei had dozed off. The ruined temple was quiet. It was just the two of them and the broken gods and Buddhas keeping vigil.
The fire crackled softly. Lin Shijin inched sideways, very discreetly, until he was closer to Sheng Rufei. Up close, Sheng Rufei’s sleeping face looked like it belonged in a painting.
His gaze rested on Sheng Rufei’s ear. Sheng Rufei had bitten his ear the day before. He wanted to try it too.
It couldn’t be that only Sheng Rufei got to bite him.
He hesitated, then steeled himself. A proper man couldn’t be this dithery. He leaned down slightly, his lips hovering near Sheng Rufei’s cheek.
Lin Fuheng had been painstakingly gathering his scattered soul to see what this useless little pastry was doing. He was speechless.
Just as Lin Shijin touched the tip of Sheng Rufei’s ear, before he could so much as nip it, a sharp pain shot through his own. That all-too-familiar sensation of his ear was being twisted.
“Ow—!” he yelped instinctively. His ear was being tugged back, hard enough to make his eyes water. Reflexively, he latched onto Sheng Rufei.
He clung to him like a startled rabbit, blurting, “Shixiong, someone’s pulling my ear!”
The movement stirred Sheng Rufei awake. He opened his eyes to find something warm and soft thrown into his arms. The youth was clinging to him, looking faintly aggrieved and refusing to let go.
Sheng Rufei’s fingers brushed the edge of his sword sheath. Still holding the youth, sword already half drawn, he lifted his gaze… and met Lin Fuheng across the empty air.
“Shixiong…”
Lin Fuheng was mildly impressed. The youth’s senses were sharper than expected. Watching the useless wretch burrow desperately into Sheng Rufei’s arms, he let out a cold laugh.
“Come here,” he said.
Lin Shijin thought he must have misheard. His ear still stung. There was absolutely no way he’d go over.
“Shixiong, he’s threatening me!”
Sheng Rufei sensed nothing in the surroundings… no aura, no presence at all. But the youth’s ear was visibly reddened from being pinched.
He paused, recalling something. With a brush of his fingertips, he set down a barrier silently, seamlessly. “If we can’t see a form, it must be a soul. This barrier will keep it out,” he murmured, coaxing the youth.
Lin Fuheng was truly isolated: “…”
Only then did Lin Shijin lift his head. He glanced back and saw nothing. Seeing depended entirely on whether the other party wanted to be seen.
If they wished to reveal themselves, he would see; if not, he wouldn’t.
The barrier shimmered faintly some distance away. He waited. There was no movement. He shuffled a little closer. Still no ear-tugging.
He listened carefully for a long moment. When he confirmed that the soul was indeed trapped outside, he finally relaxed.
He turned back and realised he was still wrapped around Sheng Rufei. In his panic, he had sat down as well; now their posture was rather compromising.
Lin Shijin flushed, his ears turning pink, clinging to Sheng Rufei in a flustered mess.
Outside the barrier, Lin Fuheng’s face darkened once more.
