Warmth lingered at Lin Shijin’s fingertips. Though he was the one who had been bitten, a numbness spread through his hand, and a faint flush rose to his cheeks. He could not understand how something as simple as eating a pastry could leave him so flustered.
“Shixiong, you—” He meant to tell Sheng Rufei to stop teasing him, but the moment Sheng Rufei released his hand, he pulled it back at once, suddenly self-conscious.
Still holding the pastry, he stole a glance at Sheng Rufei and found him already looking down at him. Their eyes met, and it felt as though he had been scalded. He immediately looked away.
Lin Shijin changed tack. “Is it… sweet?”
The youth beside him replied quietly, “Very.”
Lin Shijin could feel the gaze resting above him. Those two words seemed to roll once around Sheng Rufei’s lips before being spoken, tinged with an unspoken linger, his eyes sweeping over Lin Shijin as the words fell.
For a fleeting moment, Lin Shijin had the strange impression that Sheng Rufei was not talking about the pastry at all, but about him.
The suffocating sensation from yesterday’s dream, of being tangled in a swamp, rose again unbidden. His head felt light, and he let out a small, indistinct sound through his nose.
Because Lin Shijin was holding the pastries, Sheng Rufei could not easily take his hand. Their pace slowed, and Sheng Rufei led him on a winding route through the city, until they reached the moat at the edge of the market district.
The moat was lined with moored vessels no longer in operation. Though called a moat, it was closer to a trading wharf. Merchants frequently transported goods through this channel, and guards stood watch, conducting strict inspections. Every shipment entering or leaving the city was tightly regulated.
Day labourers were hired here to carry cargo. Wages were settled daily, higher than most work within the city, with meals and rest included.
“Shixiong, aren’t we going to look for demon bones?” Lin Shijin asked, genuinely puzzled.
“We already made a circuit of the city,” Sheng Rufei replied. “There is no spiritual energy here.”
No spiritual energy?
Realisation dawned on Lin Shijin at once. Cultivation relied entirely on spiritual energy. Without it, there could be no immortal sects, not to mention demons, nor demonic cultivators. This was a self-contained mortal city, unlike the outside world with its interlocking powers.
“Then why would the illusion array trap us in a city with no spiritual energy?”
The situation felt profoundly strange. No spiritual energy, no monsters. It meant they would have to live as ordinary people, earning their keep through mundane labour. At most, they retained a few minor advantages.
He remembered Jun Yewu gripping his wrist before they entered the array. Spiritual energy could not be seen or touched, yet Jun Yewu could see it.
And had even allowed him to see it too.
Lin Shijin closed his eyes and opened them again. Nothing had changed. Then he remembered. There was no spiritual energy here. Even if he could see it, there was nothing to see.
A massive barge lay moored along the bank, rope ladders hanging from its side. Cargo sacks were piled high, carried by men in coarse cloth garments, their skin darkened by sun and labour. Sweat dripped from their boots, splashing onto the ground and leaving clear trails behind.
Sheng Rufei looked utterly out of place.
Merely standing there, he seemed as though he did not belong. It was as if he should have been in the city lord’s residence instead, or, had this been an imperial court, the newly appointed top scholar.
Glances kept drifting their way. Lin Shijin noticed, and displeasure crept in. He knew Sheng Rufei was striking to look at, and some of the men’s gazes carried an unpleasant, clinging quality that made his stomach turn.
He stepped forward slightly, trying to shield Sheng Rufei, though he was not tall enough to block him entirely. His fingers were caught instead, a cool touch closing around them.
“Xiao Jin. Don’t worry.”
The name made Lin Shijin pause. He felt faintly awkward hearing it. Yet coming from Sheng Rufei, it seemed to carry something else entirely. He answered obediently with a quiet “Mm,” and shifted aside a little.
They went together to the foreman. The man eyed Sheng Rufei up and down, suspicion plain on his face. “We don’t take in weak scholars here. We want people who can endure—”
He stopped short.
Beside them were stacked sacks of goods. Sheng Rufei lifted two at once with effortless ease, slinging them over his shoulder. Dust burst up, coating the foreman’s face, and he said nothing more.
“Take the token,” he muttered. “There are two of you?”
Sheng Rufei gave a brief assent. “We want a separate room.”
The foreman’s beady eyes widened, irritation flaring. “You’re here to work, aren’t you?”
Lin Shijin only half heard the exchange. He scratched at his ear, attention wandering. The area was crowded with labourers chasing quick money. Someone who was not watching his path collided with him, sending him stumbling back several steps.
“Sorry, are you alright?” The man set down his sack and came over.
Lin Shijin spat out grit. “I’m fine.” The man stepped closer, the heavy stench of sweat and fish hitting him full on. Instinctively, Lin Shijin held his breath.
“I wasn’t paying attention—” Before Lin Shijin could react, the man grabbed his wrist.
The clammy heat of the other’s palm made goosebumps rise along his spine. He yanked his hand back at once.
“I said I’m fine—” He glanced instinctively in Sheng Rufei’s direction. The man before him had dark skin and an honest-looking face, but his eyes roamed in a way that made Lin Shijin’s chest tighten with unease.
His view was abruptly blocked.
With a dull thud, Sheng Rufei struck the man’s hand away with his sword sheath, pulling Lin Shijin behind him and cutting off the man’s line of sight.
“Hey, little bro, don’t get the wrong idea,” the man said with a laugh. “I just bumped into him. He’s got such delicate skin. I was worried something might happen to him.”
“This place isn’t meant for people like that,” he added with a grin. “Since you brought him here, you’d best keep a close eye on him…”
He spat onto the ground, ground it out with his boot, and ambled off with his cargo.
Lin Shijin rubbed his wrist. A red ring had already formed, and the lingering stickiness made his skin crawl. He cast a cleansing spell without thinking.
For now, they could still use spells, but with no spiritual energy in the array, that might not last long.
“Shixiong.” Lin Shijin tugged lightly at Sheng Rufei’s sleeve. He could feel how dark his mood had turned. His wrist was caught again, Sheng Rufei lowering his gaze to him, voice subdued.
“He touched your wrist?”
Lin Shijin nodded. “I don’t like it here. The way he looked at me just now… it made me uncomfortable.”
As though he were being appraised as an object… and not even one meant for anything proper.
And to touch him so casually.
Disciples were forbidden from harming ordinary mortals of the Three Thousand Worlds. Had he acted earlier, Sheng Rufei’s efforts to secure work would have been wasted.
After a long moment, Sheng Rufei said quietly, “We won’t stay long.”
Lin Shijin nodded. He trusted him completely.
Sheng Rufei led him to the workers’ lodgings. Lin Shijin did not know how he had persuaded the foreman, only that he had.
The rest huts were clustered together and each room crammed with over a dozen men. They were crudely built, lined with shared sleeping platforms. Even from outside, some reeked of sweat and unwashed feet.
Without thinking, Lin Shijin edged closer to Sheng Rufei. Sheng Rufei smelled clean and faintly fragrant. Breathing became easier beside him.
By the roadside, he caught sight of the dark-skinned man again, laughing with several others. He looked away at once and noticed Sheng Rufei’s steps falter briefly before resuming.
“…That pair who just arrived,” one man muttered. “The tall one looks like a god, but he’s not someone to mess with. I saw him lift two sacks on his own.”
“The other one’s better,” another laughed. “Not much to look at, but that build? That waist, those wrists… thin enough to wrap one hand around. Bet he’d be lively.”
“He smells soft and sweet too. I brushed him earlier. Smoother than silk. Bet he’d taste even better…”
Their laughter was cut short when a supervisor approached, and they quickly dispersed.
Their assigned room lay far from the others. Calling it a room was generous. It held only a straw-laid mat and a small table. Nothing else.
Lin Shijin took out a long-burning candle from his storage ring. Once removed, it became an ordinary candle. This was proof that even such items would be exhausted within the array. He lit it without regret.
The candle cast a faint, wavering glow. Feeling stifled, Lin Shijin pulled off the human-skin mask.
“Shixiong, will you be working tomorrow? Can I come with you?”
When he turned back, Sheng Rufei was standing behind him, almost merged with the shadows. His gaze lingered on Lin Shijin’s face for a heartbeat before he answered coolly.
“No.”
Embarrassment crept in. He could hardly stand idle while Sheng Rufei worked.
“Then what will I do?”
“You’ll come with me and stay by my side.”
Cool fingers brushed his ear. Lin Shijin obediently rubbed his cheek against them. “Will I have to wear the mask every day?”
The touch stopped.
Sheng Rufei lifted his gaze, darkness pooling in his eyes. “You don’t want to wear it?”
The air turned colder.
Lin Shijin had noticed that lately, Sheng Rufei seemed quicker to anger. Before, he would have explained patiently. The change unsettled him, but he said nothing.
He knew his shixiong meant well.
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he said softly. “It’s just uncomfortable. It feels stuffy.”
“Don’t be angry.”
“I’ll wear it.”
Sheng Rufei looked down at him. Lin Shijin yielded without hesitation, dark eyes shining with unguarded trust.
“If you don’t wear it,” Sheng Rufei said quietly, “too many people will look at you. I don’t want them to see you.”
Lin Shijin answered with a vague “Mm,” not entirely understanding. He did not argue. He felt Sheng Rufei’s hand cup his cheek.
Pressed lightly back against the wall, Lin Shijin sensed the weight of Sheng Rufei’s gaze. Cool fingers traced along his temple, slow and deliberate.
“Xiao Jin.”
The voice was low, magnetic. A breath brushed his ear, fingers grazing his earlobe.
“Don’t make me angry.”
