Heat crept up to the tips of Lin Shijin’s ears. His whole body seemed to go slack, and when he met Sheng Rufei’s deep, unblinking gaze, he pressed his lips together and managed a dry little, “All right.”
“Shixiong… if you have something to say, say it properly. Don’t stand so close.”
He pushed lightly at the youth before him. His palm met a solid, unyielding chest; he could not move him at all. Instead, his own wrist was caught, and the moment he brushed against Sheng Rufei, all the strength drained from his arm.
After a moment, Sheng Rufei’s breathing eased. He slowly released him, fingers lifting to rub absently at Lin Shijin’s hair.
“We’ll need to be up early tomorrow. Go to sleep.”
“All right,” Lin Shijin replied. He knew they would probably have to rise before dawn if he was to follow Sheng Rufei. Then, recalling something, he asked, “Shixiong… there’s no spiritual energy in this city. Will we lose the ability to use spells in a few days?”
“Yes,” Sheng Rufei said calmly. “This illusion array sets layer upon layer of restrictions. Its purpose is to weaken our arts. In a few days, we may be no different from ordinary people.”
“Talismans, spells… even sword qi.”
Lin Shijin had already suspected as much. A thread of unease stirred in his chest, but when he met Sheng Rufei’s eyes, it was soothed away. As long as they were together, he believed they would find a way out of the array.
The room they were given had no lock. Sheng Rufei did not say where he found one, only that he fitted it into place. Cold air seeped through the gaps in the door, making the candle flame gutter and waver.
Lin Shijin reached out to feel the bedding. It was slightly damp. They were day labourers… of course no one would trouble themselves to prepare clean, dry quilts for them.
He had barely touched it when Sheng Rufei stepped forward, removed his outer robe, and spread it over the bedding, covering the dampness beneath.
Lin Shijin turned to look at him. With only his inner robe left, Sheng Rufei appeared thin, almost spare. He hesitated, then asked, “Shixiong… are you not sleeping?”
When Sheng Rufei shook his head, Lin Shijin did not press the matter. He would be accompanying him tomorrow, he thought, and with that thought lingering, he drifted towards sleep… until something caught his eye.
He stared at a centipede clinging to a crack in the wall. Scooping it up, he carried it over.
“Shixiong, there’s a bug here.”
The centipede writhed in his palm. Afraid of crushing it, Lin Shijin loosened his grip and tried to hand it over, but Sheng Rufei sidestepped his reach.
“Shixiong, throw it out. I won’t be able to sleep knowing it’s here.”
“…”
Seeing Sheng Rufei’s reluctance, Lin Shijin paid it no heed. He often indulged Sheng Rufei; it was only fair that Sheng Rufei indulge him in return. He took Sheng Rufei’s wrist and placed the centipede into his hand.
“Don’t crush it,” he added earnestly. “Even if it is very ugly.”
Withdrawing his hand, Lin Shijin yawned. He watched as Sheng Rufei flicked the centipede straight out through the crack in the door. Reassured, he finally relaxed and fell asleep.
After the youth’s breathing evened out, Sheng Rufei remained seated beside him. Candlelight flared and dimmed. He studied Lin Shijin’s sleeping profile for a long while. Then his figure vanished from the room.
Before dawn the next morning, the sound of water rose from the riverbank. Lamps were lit aboard the boats, and a gong rang out, once around. The area stirred to life. Most people hurried to collect their porridge. Latecomers would go without steamed buns.
The riverside was brightly lit. Lin Shijin followed Sheng Rufei into the long queue, each of them holding the same plain porridge bowl.
The man ladling it out was one of the overseers. The porridge was thin, but steaming hot and unexpectedly appetising. Each person received one bowl and two buns. Nothing more.
They found a corner to stand in. As cultivators, they did not truly need food, but within this illusion array, it was clear that their abilities were being stripped away, forcing them back into the limits of ordinary life.
Lin Shijin took a sip. Around them, people stood in loose clusters, murmuring quietly.
“Did you hear? One of the overseers didn’t show up this morning. Someone died last night.”
“Really…?”
“Not just one. A few others were injured for no reason. No one’s figured it out yet.”
Lin Shijin caught fragments of the talk. He could not finish his porridge, and the buns were too hard, so he passed them all to Sheng Rufei. Sheng Rufei ate the buns and drank the rest of his porridge without comment.
As they finished, a stir rippled through the crowd. Someone shouted nearby, and Lin Shijin edged closer, piecing together most of what had happened.
A body had been pulled from the river. It had soaked there all night, skin tinged blue, the stench of decay already rising. There was a dark ring around the neck. The cause of death was obvious. Strangled, then dumped into the water.
Lin Shijin went to look. He was surprised to recognise the man: the same labourer who had collided with him the day before. The coarse clothes were unchanged; the life inside them was gone.
The man’s face was twisted, veins bulging, eyes protruding slightly, staring wide as though he had seen something unspeakably terrifying.
“Not just him,” someone said. “The ones he usually ran with… I heard their arms and legs were broken too. No idea who they offended.”
“They were always bullying people,” another spat. “Serves them right.”
“Has the overseer found who did it?”
“Who would bother? Who cares if a hired hand lives or dies… Besides, anyone strong enough to strangle him so easily … there aren’t many like that around here.”
Lin Shijin looked at the corpse for a while, unease creeping up his spine. He drifted closer to Sheng Rufei, fingers catching lightly at the edge of his sleeve.
“Scared?” Sheng Rufei asked softly.
Lin Shijin nodded. “Shixiong… could there be robbers here who kill people just to steal their money?”
It seemed the only explanation. Day labourers were paid well, but had nowhere safe to keep their earnings. Many kept the money on them. Few would notice if they disappeared.
Frowning slightly, Lin Shijin said, “Once we’ve earned enough for the city tax, let’s leave. This place isn’t safe.”
Sheng Rufei studied him for a moment, then gave a quiet hum. “All right.”
The excitement soon faded and the crowd dispersed. By midday, the sun was blazing. Lin Shijin waited in the shade beneath the eaves, watching Sheng Rufei work.
Sheng Rufei looked slender, but his strength was formidable. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing pale wrists. Some had stared at them openly. It was until they watched him shoulder two heavy sacks again and again, more than ten trips without pause. After that, no one dared look too long.
Afraid that the next thing hoisted might be them.
Lin Shijin felt tired just watching. Sheng Rufei, however, seemed tireless. He worked in silence, speaking to no one, only glancing over from time to time to make sure Lin Shijin was still there. Seeing him unmoved, he would turn back to his labour.
Lin Shijin noticed a stall selling chilled mung bean soup. He fished out a few copper coins and scraps of silver from his belt. This was all money Sheng Rufei had given him.
After hesitating, he put the coins away. His gaze shifted instead to a patch of reeds by the river.
Sheng Rufei checked the corner repeatedly, uneasy if he did not. When an overseer stopped him to ask about the previous day, he answered perfunctorily. When he looked back again, the boy beneath the eaves was gone.
Besides merchant vessels, there were pleasure boats moored nearby for the city’s wealthy, and vendors crowded the area.
Lin Shijin plucked a few reeds and began weaving small rabbits. It was a trick he had learned from Jing Qiuhong in class. Jing Qiuhong had used a spirit herb from Fuguang; reeds worked just as well.
Unsure whether anyone would buy them, he set a few down anyway. Before long, a little girl with twin buns wandered over.
Judging by her dress, she was from a wealthy family. She crouched to inspect the rabbits, and her attendant promptly asked the price.
“Two coins each,” Lin Shijin said. He had spent nothing, only wanted to buy Sheng Rufei a bowl of soup and didn’t want to use Sheng Rufei’s money. Selling them at all was enough to please him.
“Two coins?” the girl asked in a soft, childish voice, eyes fixed on him. “What if I give you silver? Can I have all of them?”
Lin Shijin’s hands were clumsy, but the rabbits were undeniably cute. They were plump, foolish-looking things, their ears springing upright when their tails were tugged.
Silver was worth far more than copper. There was no reason to refuse. The girl left clutching a bundle of rabbits, and Lin Shijin accepted the silver happily, closing his warm palm around it, grinning to himself.
He glanced around to make sure no one noticed. Then he spotted a familiar figure in the distance.
“Shixiong—!”
His cheeks flushed with excitement. He jogged over, silver clutched tight. He nearly rushed straight into Sheng Rufei’s arms, but stopped short when he noticed the dirt on his robes.
“Shixiong, I earned silver!”
He presented it proudly, handing most of it over and keeping only a little loose change. “Shixiong, wait here.”
Sheng Rufei looked down at the silver in his hand. Following his gaze, he saw the unfinished rabbit Lin Shijin still held. It was missing its tail, round and awkward-looking.
The youth dashed off again, then returned with a bowl of icy mung bean soup cradled in his palms.
A smile tugged at Lin Shijin’s lips as he held it out, reeds still looped around his fingers.
“Shixiong, are you tired? Try this. I saw so many people buying it. Guess how much it costs.”
“I thought it was two coins a bowl. It’s already cheap, but it’s only one coin. Then again, most of the labourers here won’t spend much. If it were pricier, no one would buy it.”
“Go on, try it.”
Once Lin Shijin started talking, he could not stop. Seeing Sheng Rufei accept the bowl, he added eagerly, “There are so many reeds by the shore. I can weave hedgehogs and foxes too, not just rabbits. Maybe we could sell them tomorrow… though probably no one would buy them.”
He watched Sheng Rufei take a sip, fingers tightening slightly around the bowl.
“Is it sweet?”
He did not know whether Sheng Rufei found it sweet. He only felt that earning money to treat his shixiong filled him with a quiet, bubbling joy.
He looked up. Sheng Rufei was still gazing down at the soup, lashes casting a shadow over his eyes, offering no answer.
After a long pause, he finally spoke, voice low and even.
“Sweet.”
