After drinking the medicinal broth, Lin Shijin grew drowsy. He seemed to hear Sheng Rufei murmuring by his ear, yet could not make out the words. He only saw Sheng Rufei’s lips moving, while a dull ringing filled his ears.
He tried hard to focus and caught only half a sentence.
“I am here… I will stay with you.”
Lin Shijin’s eyelids trembled faintly. His fingertips tightened, then slowly relaxed. A measure of reassurance settled within him, and he drifted into sleep.
Yet even in sleep he was not at peace.
In his dream he fell into a viscous darkness. Before him stretched a blood-stained red sky, the crimson horizon entwining with endless black. From within that darkness, black mist gathered and coiled, condensing into patterns in mid-air.
A black Feathered Crane Chant sigil burned across the void. At its centre was a single crane’s eye. The eye, which had been closed, suddenly opened.
Its corners were long and narrow; the pupil deep, pitch-dark and thick with something unspeakably strange.
Lin Shijin did not move. The eye lowered slightly, gazing down at him with cold disdain. He felt it instinctively. It had come for him.
“The illusion array… was it your doing?”
The sigil did not answer. It burned to cinders in the air and scattered into ash.
Lin Shijin’s thoughts wavered.
If an illusion array beguiled the heart, then he had not been beguiled…
Had he?
Was it that he had not perceived it, or that the array harboured another design altogether?
He had come to a city devoid of spiritual power, without scourge-slayers or immortal sects. He had lost his cultivation, lost his status, become an ordinary man. Nothing earth-shaking had happened here… merely refugees entering the city, a strange sickness spreading… and then he himself falling ill.
No. Something was wrong.
Lin Shijin abruptly opened his eyes only to find darkness still before him. In his urgency he failed, at first, to register what that darkness meant. Cold sweat prickled across his back. Instinctively, he called out:
“Shixiong…”
His voice was low. His fingers reached out and caught hold of the hem of the person beside him. He heard Sheng Rufei answer softly.
“Those two labourers who contracted the strange illness… what became of them?”
He hesitated, then asked quietly, “Are many in the city afflicted with the same sickness?”
He suspected, but was not certain.
Suddenly he remembered Yixiu City. There, a city had perished beneath the ravages of an evil curse. Here too there was a strange illness. If it were contagious, then the ending was all but foretold. It would be destruction, just the same.
But the evil curse had been eradicated a thousand years ago by Fuheng’s own hand. It no longer existed.
Why, then, did it appear before him again and again?
Sheng Rufei did not answer for a long while. Silence itself was answer enough.
“Is it so?” Lin Shijin pressed, his fingertips trembling.
At length Sheng Rufei gave a quiet “Mm.”
“The city is under martial law. The refugees have been expelled. The sickness spreads swiftly, and its source remains unknown.”
An unknown source meant no cure. And without a cure, those infected faced certain death.
As if aware of his thoughts, Sheng Rufei touched his cheek.
“You need not worry. What you have is not that sickness. Those afflicted do not survive beyond a day.”
“You have been unconscious for three days. You have not dissolved into black water.”
Lin Shijin found little comfort in that. His fingers clutched weakly at Sheng Rufei’s robe. His vision swam; overlapping shadows blurred before him.
“Shixiong… do you remember Yixiu City? The curse destroyed the whole place in the end. Can this truly be coincidence?”
“Perhaps not,” Sheng Rufei said quietly, brushing his eyelids. “There is cause and effect in every seeming accident.”
Lin Shijin agreed. His sight grew dimmer still, a ringing filling his ears.
“Shixiong… have you ever seen—”
He meant to speak of the Feathered Crane Chant sigil. But before he could finish, darkness swallowed everything.
Silence pressed in from all sides. He heard leaves rustling in the courtyard beyond. He heard Sheng Rufei’s voice. Something within his body drew closer to the surface. It was as though it wished to tear through flesh and emerge.
“Shixiong.”
He steadied himself and slowly lifted his hand to his eyes.
“I cannot see.”
Sheng Rufei’s fingers rested against his eyelids. They were cold.
Usually Sheng Rufei’s touch was warm, like a small furnace. Now it felt almost icy.
The loss of sight had not been sudden but gradual; only Lin Shijin’s slow nature had delayed his awareness.
Deprived of vision, his other senses sharpened. He heard Sheng Rufei rise and move away. His own hand groped in the empty air.
“Shixiong?”
Why could he no longer see? What illness was this? What did the illusion array intend?
They said illusion arrays reflected the heart’s deepest thoughts. Yet he had never imagined himself falling ill. Never imagined losing his cultivation.
His head throbbed. He pressed at his temples and called again, “Shixiong.”
Soon footsteps returned. The scent of herbs reached him. It was stronger than before.
The bowl was raised to his lips. Though he could not see it, steam brushed his face.
“What illness do I have?”
“Drink, and you will recover,” Sheng Rufei replied.
Their fingers brushed. The chill startled him.
“I feel as though I know nothing,” Lin Shijin murmured. “Before, your hands were always warm… now they are cold.”
When he touched again, Sheng Rufei’s hand had grown warm.
“Why are they warm now?”
“They change as I will,” Sheng Rufei answered indifferently.
They turned cold again, like ice.
“I prefer warm Shixiong,” Lin Shijin said softly.
Warmth returned at once.
“Just now you felt like a ghost,” he added absently, then stiffened as the implication struck him.
Sheng Rufei lightly pinched his ear in warning. “Drink.”
Lin Shijin told himself it was only the illusion array. He must be patient. He drank.
“Will I recover after this?”
“You will,” Sheng Rufei murmured, stroking his hair. “Why think of Yixiu City now?”
“Because it feels similar…”
The bitterness spread across his tongue. He nearly retched.
“This is wretchedly bitter.”
He reached blindly for Sheng Rufei’s sleeve to wipe his mouth, but instead a cup was pressed to his lips.
“Tea.”
The sweetness washed some of the bitterness away. He swallowed the rest of the medicine in one draught. Sheng Rufei fed him candied fruit after; sweetness melted on his tongue.
His lips brushed Sheng Rufei’s fingers. Sheng Rufei did not withdraw them.
Lin Shijin, flustered, turned his head aside and gently pushed them away.
He grew sleepy again and soon fell into slumber.
…
The days that followed passed in darkness.
His sight did not return. Sheng Rufei tended to him. He changed his clothes, brought food, sometimes carried him into the courtyard for air.
Without cultivation, he was no more than an ordinary man.
He traced the bark of trees. His strength ebbed daily. Beneath his fingers he found the leaves of a camellia.
They were withered.
“Did you not say I would recover in a few days?” he asked softly. “Shixiong… do you know what is wrong with me?”
Deep within his bones the itching worsened. It was as though something were growing, preparing to break free.
“Are we to remain here indefinitely?”
Sheng Rufei’s hand touched his cheek.
“Is that not good?” he asked quietly. “Do you not wish to remain with me… always?”
To live as ordinary people.
Lin Shijin’s lips curved faintly downward. Unease lingered in his chest.
He wished to remain with Sheng Rufei.
Yet the red thread still wound about his wrist. Ever since it had stirred that day, he had been unable to quiet his heart.
“When shall we leave the illusion array?”
He had the distinct feeling that Sheng Rufei knew how to leave. And that it was by Sheng Rufei’s will alone that they remained trapped.
“Xiao Jin,” Sheng Rufei called from behind him, “do you wish to leave this place?”
“We cannot stay here forever,” Lin Shijin replied.
“If we cannot save this city, there is no point in remaining.”
The moment he said it, Sheng Rufei’s gaze upon him altered, ever so slightly. His voice lowered.
“You wish to save them?”
“This is what the illusion array wants us to see,” Lin Shijin said, though without certainty. He was not clever; he could only piece together fragments of what had happened before.
During their last mission, they too had stood by and watched as Yixiu City was destroyed.
An evil curse had consumed the entire city. They had been powerless to prevent it. Worse, they had even hastened its fall. Countless living beings had been twisted into monstrous things.
This time he had become an ordinary man. The strange illness afflicting the city seemed unrelated to him, yet he himself had contracted some unknown malady.
“No one can save them,” Sheng Rufei murmured, taking his fingertips in his own. “They perished long ago in the river of time. No one can save them.”
“An evil curse has never had a remedy.”
Lin Shijin did not wholly understand. The faint ache in his chest returned. Without drawing attention to it, he slipped his hand free and rubbed his fingertips together.
He was slow by nature, hesitant. That night they again shared the same bed. As before, Sheng Rufei leaned close and nuzzled at his neck.
Lin Shijin always had the uneasy impression that the other wished to bite through his throat. He wanted to press him down, watch him struggle, and slowly drink the marrow from his bones.
His scalp prickled.
His fingertips brushed Sheng Rufei’s wrist by accident.
It was icy.
Not the chill of cool skin, but the cold of something that had never lived.
He touched his own clothing. Aside from his inner garments, everything had been changed by Sheng Rufei. He slept in his underclothes for fear of the cold. His fingers found the fastening at his collar. Though he could not see it, Sheng Rufei had tied it smoothly, deftly… without the slightest fumbling.
The night was utterly still.
He lay awake, distracted and restless. Though the youth behind him did not touch him, his posture was one of unmistakable possession.
Time passed.
At length, Lin Shijin’s fingers stirred. He reached tentatively towards the person beside him.
The skin was still cool.
He sensed Sheng Rufei shift slightly. Summoning his courage, he slid an arm about Sheng Rufei’s neck.
The moment he embraced him, a strong arm clamped around his waist.
His breath caught.
The youth’s breathing grew heavier, warm against his throat. The grip tightened until it hurt. A muffled sound escaped him as Sheng Rufei’s breath brushed his ear, and a low murmur followed.
“Xiao Jin…”
There was nothing hazy in that voice.
He was perfectly lucid.
At the slightest encouragement, he abandoned restraint entirely. None of the former stiffness or uncertainty remained.
“Xiao Jin,” he whispered, “I want you.”
Lin Shijin struggled for breath. His fingers, which had been clutching at the other’s robe, trembled; the pale bones of his knuckles stood out white. Slowly, hesitantly, his hand slid downward, pressing through the fabric against the chest before him…
It was hollow.
There was no heartbeat.
