Lin Shijin looked up and met a snow-pale, handsome face. The man instinctively steadied him with his fingers as Lin Shijin crashed straight into Jun Yewu’s arms. He had meant to run into Sheng Rufei. Yet somehow, he had collided with the wrong person.
He had no idea how he’d suddenly ended up here. Had he really gone through all that trouble only to circle right back?
He didn’t dare think too deeply about it; the more he thought, the more it felt like he might faint from sheer anger.
“Shixiong?” Jun Yewu suppressed the pain in his chest and lowered his gaze to the youth in his arms. A faint smile curved the corner of his eyes, but beneath it lurked an unmistakable chill.
Lin Shijin immediately tried to push himself up. He had barely risen when the hand at his waist tightened slightly, pressing him back down.
“What are you doing—” Lin Shijin bumped into Jun Yewu’s chest again. Remembering the wound there, he reflexively shifted aside a little.
Jun Yewu saw the movement. Even so, pain jolted through his chest, and he broke into violent coughing. The youth in his arms was jolted along with each cough, staring at him wide-eyed.
“Cough… cough…” Jun Yewu’s face went deathly pale. Even in this state, he refused to let go. Lin Shijin was completely pinned; worried Jun Yewu might cough spit onto his face, he carefully edged away a fraction.
“Saint Lord!” The guards rushed forward. Only then was Lin Shijin released. Though as Jun Yewu let go, he snapped a shackle onto Lin Shijin’s wrist.
Locked up again.
Lin Shijin stood to the side, watching Jun Yewu clutch his chest, his face nearly white as paper. Several guards gathered around him; one cast Lin Shijin a reproachful glance, clearly blaming him for triggering the relapse.
“Saint Lord—”
“Your Highness—”
“Master—”
They addressed him differently, but all knelt. Jun Yewu gasped for breath, fingers whitening where he gripped his collar. The gentle refinement usually on his face twisted into something dark and vicious.
Lin Shijin tucked his hands away and watched. Serves you right, he muttered inwardly. Better if it hurts you to death.
Almost at once, Jun Yewu looked over.
His brows and eyes were heavy with shadow. His voice was hoarse. “Come here.”
That single glance sent goosebumps racing over Lin Shijin’s skin. He didn’t dare move, frozen in place. As Jun Yewu’s aura grew heavier, darker, he reluctantly took a small step forward.
Hands still tucked in, he shuffled over unwillingly, slow and stiff. He was utterly unaware that he looked pitiful rather than defiant.
Jun Yewu’s chest tightened even more at the sight. This idiot dares look aggrieved?
Before Lin Shijin reached the bed, his wrist was seized and he was yanked forward, nearly crashing into Jun Yewu’s arms again.
He stopped just in time. Another collision, and he wouldn’t be able to explain himself even with a hundred mouths.
“You came from your shixiong,” Jun Yewu said. He pinched Lin Shijin’s cheek; his rough fingertips bit painfully into the skin. Lin Shijin shook his head, words muffled.
“I… I came back on my own…”
Jun Yewu’s gaze fixed on his face as he squeezed harder, warping his cheek slightly. “Do you take me for a fool?”
Lin Shijin shut up instantly.
From then on, he resolved to treat everything Jun Yewu said as nonsense. No matter what he asked, Lin Shijin would cling to the same answer: I came back myself.
He had no idea why he’d landed in Jun Yewu’s hall. Judging by his reaction, Jun Yewu didn’t know about the Hall of Enlightenment’s formation either. Stranger still, Lin Fuheng hadn’t said a word.
What Lin Shijin didn’t know was that Lin Fuheng spent most of his time asleep. His soul had been exhausted earlier, and he’d already sunk back into slumber.
“Not talking?” Jun Yewu said.
A crushing pressure descended. Lin Shijin’s knees buckled, and he hit the floor with a thud.
Jun Yewu’s expression smoothed back into calm as he slowly released him. “Then kneel. Kneel until you’re willing to speak.”
The cold floor bit into his knees. Lin Shijin knelt facing Jun Yewu, lips pressed into a reluctant line as he muttered, “Even if I told you, you wouldn’t believe me. Am I supposed to kneel forever, then?”
He glanced up to see Jun Yewu watching him, and he promptly shut up.
He quietly located the spiritual aperture in the shackle at his wrist. It would be easy to undo. Once Jun Yewu left the hall.
With that in mind, he waited stiffly for Jun Yewu to leave.
Jun Yewu didn’t.
He stayed by the bed, eyes closed at first, then open. He watched him for a long while.
Lin Shijin hated kneeling before others, especially on cold stone. Being watched made him uneasy, yet Jun Yewu’s cultivation pinned him in place.
Not only did Jun Yewu show no sign of leaving, he even began writing on the couch. A guard brought a message sealed with demonic fire lacquer; Jun Yewu glanced at it briefly.
The hall was silent.
After a quarter hour, Lin Shijin’s fingers pressed lightly against the floor. He was starting to lose patience, shifting slightly, making tiny, restless sounds.
Jun Yewu’s gaze swept over him. “Need me to fix that for you?”
Damn it.
Lin Shijin froze at once, submitting to brute power. He pressed his lips down, sulking but daring not show it, and muttered, “Kneeling hurts.”
Jun Yewu smiled faintly. “Shall I let you lie down, then?”
Lin Shijin went completely silent.
Lying down did sound better, but he wasn’t stupid. If he agreed, it definitely wouldn’t end there.
A long silence followed. Jun Yewu turned back to the letter in his hand.
Then a muffled voice drifted over. “A pillow would also work.”
One look from Jun Yewu shut him up instantly. Still, Lin Shijin kept making tiny noises. Just enough to draw attention.
Whenever Jun Yewu looked over, he was kneeling properly. Whenever he didn’t, Lin Shijin glared at him, aggrieved and indignant.
Another quarter hour later, Lin Shijin’s place of punishment shifted. From the floor to the bed.
He knelt on the bed with the wall behind him, facing Jun Yewu from a short distance away. It didn’t hurt at all.
He inched sideways a little.
One look.
He froze again.
Beds were dangerously soporific. With nothing to do, drowsiness crept up on him. His eyelids drooped; Jun Yewu’s profile doubled in his vision.
Jun Yewu noticed everything: the lotus patterns being tugged at, the wall being scratched, the yawns, the glances at the snacks, the constant fidgeting.
Annoying beyond belief.
He focused on his work. Eventually, the noise stopped.
He looked over, and paused.
The idiot had wrapped himself in a small blanket, found a comfortable angle against the wall, and fallen asleep. Soft snores escaped him.
Still kneeling. Still asleep.
Flexible enough to maintain a posture most people couldn’t.
The hall fell silent. Jun Yewu’s aura grew colder. But it had no effect on a sleeping fool. Lin Shijin stirred faintly, lashes fluttering, as if sensing something in his dreams.
He didn’t sleep long. Jun Yewu woke him.
Meeting his gaze, Lin Shijin instantly understood his mood.
…Awkward.
It really was easy to fall asleep on a bed. He cursed himself inwardly. Sleeping beside the great demon, utterly fearless.
Jun Yewu had called him for quite a while. His punishment had been completely ineffective; the youth’s skin was thick, his mouth slick, always lying without batting an eye.
“I’ll give you one more chance,” Jun Yewu said. “Did your shixiong help you escape?”
Lin Shijin shook his head immediately. Crystal clear on this point. “I don’t know. Stop asking.”
“I already said, I came back myself. You just won’t believe me.”
He touched his lips, confirmed there was no drool, and lowered his hand.
“Why did you come back?” Jun Yewu asked softly, eyes shadowed. He wanted to hear the lie.
“There was a barrier outside,” Lin Shijin said, picking at the lotus embroidery. “I couldn’t get out. My cultivation’s too low.”
“And you don’t know the consequences of returning?” Jun Yewu sneered. His fingers brushed Lin Shijin’s skin… pale, soft, warm.
Lin Shijin went rigid.
“If you stay here,” Jun Yewu said quietly, “I won’t let you go.”
Lin Shijin knew all of that already. What puzzled him was why Jun Yewu needed to say it.
He wasn’t some masochist who wanted to stay, but he caught something else flickering in Jun Yewu’s eyes.
…Was he expecting him to say he wanted to stay?
Still kneeling, Lin Shijin answered softly, “Of course I know.”
Which was why he’d been planning to run all along. He didn’t say the rest.
No matter what Jun Yewu asked, Lin Shijin repeated the same answers. Eventually, Jun Yewu lost patience and stopped questioning him.
Scourge-Slayers were still stationed in the temple. Lin Shijin remained in the hall. Jun Yewu didn’t leave either. They stayed together.
Night fell. Lin Shijin glanced at the moon outside. Many hours had passed, still no word from Sheng Rufei. Jun Yewu finally tossed him into the corner of the hall.
This time, he was merciful. Two blankets. One small pillow.
“If you snore,” Jun Yewu said coldly, “I’ll cut out your tongue.”
Lin Shijin hugged the pillow. “I don’t know if I’ll snore once I’m asleep.”
“Then don’t sleep.”
Cultivators didn’t need sleep. And this one was the laziest Jun Yewu had ever seen.
Apart from that face, there wasn’t a single redeeming feature.
Thinking so, Jun Yewu’s gaze drifted back to the corner. Lin Shijin was carefully smoothing his blankets, hugging his pillow, visibly pleased.
Why? Because he wasn’t sleeping on the floor.
Jun Yewu’s eyes lingered briefly on the slight smile at the corner of his lips, then turned away.
He would not let this fool go. And he definitely would not soften.
