Lin Shijin opened his eyes and met a familiar face.
The young man’s features were strikingly vivid, almost dazzling. He was looking down at him now, lashes lowered, fingertips resting against Lin Shijin’s cheek and tracing lightly along the curve of his face. There was a restrained gentleness in his eyes beneath the usual coolness.
“Shixiong?”
Lin Shijin’s mind was still echoing with the soft Xiao Jin Sheng Rufei had called earlier. His cheeks were still warm, and he felt inexplicably flustered.
His cheek brushed against Sheng Rufei’s fingers, the heat spreading further. He shifted slightly to the side.
“Why are you here…?”
Only then did Lin Shijin notice they were inside a carriage. He felt momentarily dazed. Just moments ago he’d been with Jun Yewu. Jun Yewu had warned him not to be misled by illusions.
Remembering that, he pinched himself hard. It hurt. This didn’t feel like a dream.
“I’ve been trapped here since the day before yesterday,” Sheng Rufei said evenly. “I couldn’t find the sacred object in the Hall of Enlightenment. I followed the flow of spiritual energy, passed through a barrier, and ended up here.”
The timing, the Hall of Enlightenment, the sacred object, the spiritual energy, the barrier. Everything aligned with Lin Shijin’s memories. He felt himself start to believe it.
“So… we’re inside an illusion now?” he asked.
Sheng Rufei gave a quiet hum and slowly withdrew his hand. “This is an illusion produced by the sacred object’s self-defence. If you stay here too long, you’ll lose your way.”
“We need to find a way out first.”
“Right—” Lin Shijin tugged at Sheng Rufei’s sleeve. “Jun Yewu. I came here with him.”
“Where is he?”
If Jun Yewu was nearby, danger could come at any moment. Dealing with him should come first.
“He shouldn’t be in the same illusion array as us,” Sheng Rufei replied.
He lifted his wrist slightly, revealing the red soul-bond thread, and said thoughtfully, “Perhaps because we’re linked by a soul-bond, we were drawn into the same array.”
The carriage rocked gently. Lin Shijin found the explanation plausible and looked around. It was an ordinary carriage, unremarkable in every way.
“Then do you know where we’re heading, Shixiong?”
Sheng Rufei shook his head. “I don’t. Possibly a city formed by the illusion itself.”
As he spoke, he lifted the curtain. Dusk had already fallen. The horizon was stained red, tangled tree branches clawing across half the sky, pressed low beneath the moonlight. The scene felt oppressive.
Lin Shijin followed his gaze. In the distance stood a city, still some way off. Against the edge of the night it looked grey and indistinct, as though veiled in mist.
“I’ve never seen that city before,” Lin Shijin murmured.
Over the past few months he’d travelled through several cities across the Three Thousand Worlds. Their gates were always guarded by purging envoys, deity statues embedded within spirit arrays to detect demons and bar their entry.
But that city had none of it. No statues, no guards. It looked abandoned, barren.
Sheng Rufei considered for a moment. “It likely isn’t part of the Three Thousand Worlds. It may belong to the outer realms, or perhaps to a far earlier age. We’ll know once we go closer.”
Lin Shijin nodded. It made sense. Now that the initial shock had passed, he belatedly realised his head felt light, his body unsettled.
“Shixiong… I feel dizzy. There’s this hollow feeling in my chest. Why?”
“Your spirit is fragile,” Sheng Rufei said, stepping closer, his voice cool. “Illusion arrays tend to affect you more.”
“Come here.”
Lin Shijin’s face was pale. He sat up and moved to Sheng Rufei’s side. Cool fingers touched his forehead. They were cold at first, then gradually warming as spiritual energy seeped in.
The faint scent of fallen plum blossoms filled his senses. He leaned unconsciously into Sheng Rufei’s chest, his forehead brushing those fingers again. He felt Sheng Rufei pause slightly. The dizziness ebbed.
“Before Jun Yewu left, he warned me that illusion arrays can deceive people,” Lin Shijin said softly, looking up at him. Sheng Rufei’s eyes seemed darker now, like ink spreading through water. “What do you think they’ll use to deceive us?”
“There are many ways,” Sheng Rufei replied. “Those with heart demons fall into heart demons. Those with desire fall into desire. Those with hatred fall into hatred. Those plagued by nightmares fall into nightmares…”
Lin Shijin froze.
Heart demons. Desire. Hatred. Nightmares.
Which did he have?
“And you, Shixiong?” he asked quietly.
Sheng Rufei’s breath brushed his ear. Sitting felt uncomfortable; without thinking, Lin Shijin edged closer, clinging to him, unwilling to let go, almost plastered against his side.
“I don’t know,” Sheng Rufei said, lowering his gaze. “I don’t know which.”
Did that mean all of them were possible?
Lin Shijin racked his brain. Aside from the enmity tied to his parents’ deaths, he couldn’t think of anything Sheng Rufei hadn’t let go of. It seemed Sheng Rufei carried more within him than Lin Shijin had realised.
“You’ve never told me,” Lin Shijin said hesitantly. “About your enemy… who is it?”
His voice dropped. He wasn’t sure it was appropriate… or whether Sheng Rufei would answer.
There was no reply for a long moment. Then a hand came down gently on his head, rubbing in quiet reassurance. Sheng Rufei clearly didn’t wish to speak of it.
The carriage interior was sparse. There were no benches, only a cushioned couch. Lin Shijin leaned fully into Sheng Rufei’s embrace, nearly melting into him. Before long, sleep crept up on him.
“If you don’t want to say, then forget it,” he muttered, yawning, already treating Sheng Rufei like a pillow again. “I’ll sleep for a bit. Wake me when we arrive, Shixiong.”
The wooden carriage gave no answer, but Lin Shijin knew he’d been heard. He drifted off, feeling a light touch brush his ear, his lashes trembling.
After he fell asleep, Sheng Rufei lowered his gaze. Darkness pooled beneath his lashes, deep and unfathomable. His fingers brushed the youth’s earlobe, tracing slowly down to his cheek, over pale, delicate skin. Trusting him completely, Lin Shijin even nuzzled against those fingers.
Sheng Rufei froze.
He withdrew his hand abruptly, forcing down the surge of emotion in his eyes.
Hoofbeats echoed. Lin Shijin was awakened by Sheng Rufei’s voice. Opening his eyes, he found Sheng Rufei’s face close. Too close. And realised he was entirely in his arms, wrapped in Sheng Rufei’s outer robe.
Sheng Rufei was still wearing the demon guard’s robe, the Heavenly Demon patterns vivid and lifelike. Lin Shijin could hear his heartbeat, feel their breaths mingle. His face flushed; his heart began to race.
“Shixiong?”
He started to shift away, but suddenly there was weight at his waist. Sheng Rufei pressed him back into his arms. Lin Shijin collided with him, feeling warm breath settle against his neck.
Electric shock rippled through him. His face burned. “Shixiong. What are you doing?”
Sheng Rufei did nothing further. Lin Shijin almost thought he was about to be kissed right there in the carriage, a treacherous flicker of anticipation stirring… before he forcefully shook himself awake.
Pull yourself together. They were still inside an illusion.
Warm breath brushed his neck. His body softened despite himself. He clutched Sheng Rufei’s sleeve, colour blooming across his cheeks. Sheng Rufei’s hold tightened.
“Shixiong…”
His voice came out unsteady. His ears burned red. He felt unbearably embarrassed and wanted to bury himself in Sheng Rufei’s chest.
Something warm brushed his neck… just the faint touch of a nose. It frightened him for reasons he couldn’t explain, like prey beneath a predator’s gaze, as though the next moment he might be seized and devoured whole.
“Mmn.”
Sheng Rufei’s voice was low, languid. His canines showed faintly, as though he wanted to bite, to leave a mark before he slowly let Lin Shijin go.
By the time Sheng Rufei released him, Lin Shijin was slick with sweat, dizzy and overheated. When they disembarked, Sheng Rufei steadied him so he wouldn’t stumble.
“Can’t walk?” Sheng Rufei brushed his fingertips. They tingled painfully. Lin Shijin neither nodded nor shook his head, allowing himself to be led.
“If you can’t walk, I can carry you.”
The calm remark made Lin Shijin’s ears flare red. Carrying him in public. What would people think? Only then did he realise, faintly startled, that he’d begun measuring things by Sheng Rufei’s standards.
“I can walk.”
Sheng Rufei said nothing more, but kept hold of his hand, fingers clasped tightly. Too tightly. Until Lin Shijin’s fingertips ached.
The carriage stopped at the city gates. Night had fallen fully. They weren’t the only ones waiting; a long queue stretched ahead of them.
A bronze basin burned near the gate. The guards’ armour looked ancient. They were nothing like a Scourge-Slayer’s. Lin Shijin couldn’t place the era.
“A thousand years ago,” Sheng Rufei said quietly. “Perhaps even earlier.”
They stood at the back of the crowd. Refugees filled the line ahead, faces heavy with exhaustion and despair.
From a distance, Lin Shijin saw that entry required silver. And a token.
“Shixiong, I still have silver,” he said.
He reached into his sleeve and retrieved his storage ring. The moment the silver emerged, it turned into stone.
…So it didn’t work here.
He stared at the two stones in his palm, then put them back. Instantly, they reverted to silver.
“……”
Sheng Rufei patted his head again, wordlessly reassuring him.
When their turn came, Sheng Rufei produced two tokens from nowhere.
The guard glanced at them. “Entrance tax. You’ll have to enter separately.”
“We don’t have any money,” Lin Shijin said flatly, already bracing himself to be turned away.
Instead, the guard efficiently produced two contracts… black ink on white paper… demanding triple payment at a later date.
Lin Shijin was dumbstruck.
Even heroes were defeated by lack of coin, it seemed. He and Sheng Rufei signed and stamped their marks. They entered the city without further trouble.
It was already past midnight, yet the streets remained lively, though clearly not for the poor.
“Shixiong,” Lin Shijin asked quietly, “where do we go now?”
