Lin Shijin didn’t realise what it was at first. He paused, slightly dazed, then understood… and his face belatedly grew hot.
“Shixiong?”
Sheng Rufei’s lips brushed his earlobe, skimming past before withdrawing. His voice was low. “Wait a little longer.”
So he waited. The surroundings were silent; clearly, information-gathering was no easy task. It was far too trying on the nerves. He’d very nearly jumped out of his skin just now.
His back pressed against the uneven surface of the great stone, and he felt it digging into him. Leaning forward a little, he stumbled straight into Sheng Rufei’s arms. The familiar cool fragrance enveloped him; he almost made a sound before Sheng Rufei caught his wrist, steadying him.
Once he’d found his footing, Sheng Rufei let go. The heat around them seemed to rise; with only the two of them here, even the moonlight felt complicit. A slight movement, and his lips nearly brushed Sheng Rufei’s throat.
His cheeks grew increasingly hot. He couldn’t help wanting to lean closer, but now was hardly the time to cling to his shixiong… especially after several attempts in the past that had all met with complete indifference.
After quite some time, footsteps sounded again. Only when they faded to nothing did Sheng Rufei speak.
“It’s clear.”
They slipped out from the crack in the artificial hill. Lin Shijin exhaled softly. Thank heavens it was dark… otherwise his flushed face would have been impossible to hide.
The palace buildings here were remote, and Lin Shijin was utterly at sea. Sheng Rufei, however, seemed to know the roads. Perhaps he had memorised the map beforehand.
As they walked deeper, the number of monks increased. They passed a few along the way; since their façades appeared as monks, they managed to slip by unnoticed.
“Those two looked unfamiliar…”
“Probably newcomers.”
Bu Wen’s corpse lay on a platform at the centre of the hall, heavily guarded. Lin Shijin could no longer go any further. Sheng Rufei told him to wait, layering several concealment barriers around him, before entering the hall to inspect the corpse.
Lin Shijin waited outside. The monks, overwhelmingly clad in white robes, formed a dense and rigid sea of white. For reasons he couldn’t articulate, a cold shiver ran down his spine.
Obediently waiting within the barriers, he soon saw a familiar silhouette. The youth emerged, silver-white hair streaming behind him, wholly unnoticed by the monks.
Lin Shijin wanted to whisper for him, but fear of discovery kept him quiet. Only when Sheng Rufei reached him did his heart finally settle.
“Shixiong, did you find anything?”
Sheng Rufei gave a quiet “Mm.” “Let’s return first. We may have to stay here another day.”
“I don’t know why Bu Wen’s spirit dissipated, but I found a fatal wound on him.”
He did not finish the thought, but the trace of sword-qi left on it belonged to Feng Rugao.
“They must have their own answers; they won’t keep us here for long.”
Lin Shijin understood and yet didn’t. Before leaving, he stole a glance back. The monks stood rigidly in place, stiff as marionettes at a distance.
He brushed off the thought as imagination and followed Sheng Rufei back.
The two of them could not appear in the same courtyard. Lin Shijin was forced to part from Sheng Rufei, reluctant and aggrieved. Returning to his cold, empty hall, he felt an uncomfortable hollowness.
Sheng Rufei was only two courtyards away. Lin Shijin glanced at the red thread wound round his wrist. Only Sheng Rufei could control it. It was deeply unfair.
If he could control it as well, he would summon the thread to drag Sheng Rufei over to sleep with him.
Through the paper window he could see the monks outside. He stared at their bare heads for a while, then rolled over, hugging his blanket.
At that moment, thin red lines opened upon the throats of the monks standing guard. Their faces turned ghastly pale as blood-threads bound them in place. Had Lin Shijin seen it, he would have recognised the soul-capturing technique from Rakshasa City.
Just before falling asleep, Lin Shijin thought he glimpsed the hem of a snow-white robe. He thought he must be imagining it; his eyelids grew heavy, and he drifted off.
When he next opened his eyes, he was no longer in his original hall.
A faint scent of orchids reached him first. Lin Shijin blinked awake, confused. He caught sight of a snow-white monk’s robe. Then a handsome, pallid face… and above it, a smooth, bare scalp.
Lin Shijin froze. He realised he was in a different room altogether, and his vigilance rose. “You are…?”
Strangely, he’d never met this man before, but something about him felt oddly familiar.
“Young master need not be afraid… As for what happened to the holy monk, perhaps some demon slipped into the temple. Yesterday, when we were inspecting your hall, you had not yet woken, so we temporarily brought you here.”
Lin Shijin examined the room. He didn’t entirely believe the beautiful monk. The monk’s complexion was dreadful; every few sentences he coughed as though his lungs might give out.
“Where is my shixiong?”
“He is confined elsewhere.”
“These are special circumstances. The two of you cannot be kept together. Once matters are clarified, you will naturally be released.”
The explanation was watertight. Lin Shijin checked his belongings. His sword, storage bag and other items were all intact.
“May I see him now?” He felt uneasy. Several monks guarded outside.
The monk looked at him with gentle tone: “Certainly not.”
Lin Shijin: “…”
The hall was lavish. He tried to recall the previous day, only remembering that he’d fallen asleep. The rest was blank.
He didn’t even know who had moved him.
Sensing his unease, the monk added softly, “Young master will be staying here for a few days. I will be watching over you.”
The repeated “young master” held no courtesy at all. It was more as if he’d been brought here as an honoured guest.
He stepped out to the doorway, only for all the monks outside to look sharply at him. He quickly retreated.
“You still haven’t told me your name,” Lin Shijin realised belatedly. The man had answered only questions about him, revealing nothing of himself.
“This humble monk… my Dharma name…” He lowered his gaze to the dew tea, then said, “Xuesheng. You may call me Xuesheng, benefactor.”
Lin Shijin found the name strange. “Are you here to watch over me?”
Something about him didn’t match that role.
Xuesheng: “Indeed.”
“When can I see my shixiong?”
Xuesheng: “Please wait.”
“May I step outside the hall?”
Xuesheng: “Young master may try.”
“Not now?”
A flicker of annoyance crossed Xuesheng’s face. A shadowy look appeared in his eyes. Lin Shijin fell silent.
So polite a moment ago, and now he’d flipped entirely.
Unease gnawed at him. Xuesheng, meanwhile, seemed idle, sipping dew-infused tea. His pallid skin was almost translucent; he didn’t look much like a monk at all.
“Xuesheng…” Lin Shijin tried again. “Are you going to stay with me all the time?”
It would be impossible to sneak out like this.
Xuesheng: “Naturally.”
Lin Shijin had no reply. Their transmission spell didn’t work here. Coming to Jinyue Temple truly was trouble. He wondered how Sheng Rufei was faring.
Restless, he sneaked glances at the beautiful monk opposite him. He’d never seen a monk with such refined features, and though slender, he was tall. His monk’s robe barely concealed his height.
Noticing his gaze, Xuesheng said, “If young master is bored, you may read the Buddhist scriptures.”
Only then did Lin Shijin notice two thick volumes on the table, covered in densely packed script. His eyes hurt just looking at them.
“No need.”
Anxious but unwilling to show it, he fidgeted with the pastries, the scriptures, then the soft, furry carpet beneath his feet.
“Did young master come to Jinyue Temple for a divination?”
He was about to answer when the red thread at his wrist twitched. His heart leapt… surprised and relieved. He kept his expression neutral, raising his eyes to meet the unfathomable gaze opposite him. The word “yes” was on his lips, but he swallowed it and said instead, “No, I came here for business.”
“Oh? And what sort of business?”
A chill crept up his spine. For an instant, the monk across from him resembled a venomous serpent flicking its tongue. His back went cold, and he very much did not wish to answer.
He didn’t speak. The monk took a tray of divination sticks from the table and asked, “Would you like me to divine your fortune?”
The sticks scattered across the tabletop. Xue Sheng picked them up one by one and placed them back into the tray, then pushed it towards him.
Lin Shijin shook his head. “No need. I don’t believe in fate.”
“Don’t believe in fate?” Xue Sheng fell into another coughing fit, this one far worse than the last. His face turned deathly pale, as though he might breathe his last at any moment.
Then Xue Sheng suddenly laughed, as if he had heard the most delightful jest. His voice was slightly hoarse. “Then do you believe in karma?”
That, he did believe in. Lin Shijin hesitated for a moment before nodding, still unable to fathom why the monk was asking.
The next instant, the snow-white monk’s robes dissolved into demonic patterns. The monk’s figure shimmered, revealing his true form. Lin Shijin found himself staring at a familiar face.
He hadn’t even had time to react. It felt as though the stone hanging in his chest cracked apart with a sharp snap.
“You…” His eyes widened, disbelief flashing through them. He instinctively took a half-step back.
Jun Yewu!!?
The demonic robes closed in upon him. Jun Yewu’s complexion was ghastly pale, his lips curved in a smile that was not quite a smile. He spoke softly, enunciating every word, “Surprised?”
“You don’t believe in fate, but you do believe in karmic retribution.”
Jun Yewu’s tone remained gentle. “Little beauty, have you thought of how you intend to repay what you owe me?”
A shiver ran up Lin Shijin’s spine. He recalled what the Scourge-Slayer Envoy had said at the city gates. Jun Yewu had been active in the region recently. Of all places, of all times, how had he stumbled directly into him?
He had witnessed Jun Yewu being pierced through by countless swords in Rakshasa City. Yet the man had survived, and now they were meeting again. If that wasn’t retribution coming full circle, what was?
Lin Shijin decided then and there to play dumb. He kept his mouth shut, his heart pounding with nervous tension.
The man before him bent down. His pallid face was devoid of the slightest colour. He caught Lin Shijin by the wrist, guiding his fingertips to his own chest.
His voice was gentle, almost casual, carrying a faint, cold smile.
“There’s still a lingering injury in my heart. Every movement hurts like hell. All thanks to you, and your dear shixiong. Tell me… how should such karma be repaid?”
