Upon hearing those words, Lin Shijin’s face flushed scarlet at once, his mind buzzing blankly. What sort of unreasonable demand was this? How could he possibly comply?
“Shixiong, let go of me first,” Lin Shijin said. His fingertips clutched at Sheng Rufei’s robe as he tried to avoid his breath, yet there was nowhere for him to retreat.
His fingers brushed against something cold, covered in a layer of silver scales. The snake’s tail had already coiled around him, wrapping him entirely within its grasp. Its tongue hovered at his neck, while Sheng Rufei’s pupils glimmered faintly red.
He looked to be on the brink of collapse, ready to erupt at any moment. The Illusion Serpent was violent by nature, and beyond that, it possessed another instinct. Sheng Rufei would not harm him, but there was another kind of yearning.
Lin Shijin’s heart softened. Seeing Sheng Rufei’s reddened eyes, he could not bear to resist him. He tried to reason with him, shrinking further into the corner.
“Shixiong, are you feeling unwell? This is inside an illusion array, it’s all false. Don’t let it deceive you.”
The snake’s tail tightened further, making it difficult for Lin Shijin to breathe, especially as it began slipping beneath his robes. He pressed down on the offending section.
His fingertips met a cold surface, faintly trembling. Lin Shijin felt at a loss. Sheng Rufei was clearly on the verge of losing control, and he knew he himself had to remain clear-headed.
“Shixiong—”
He called out again, voice soft. Sheng Rufei’s fingers traced his neck as he leaned against Lin Shijin’s shoulder, letting out a low hum. He did not move further, though the snake’s tail remained tightly coiled around him.
Lin Shijin did not dare move. Sheng Rufei in this state could not be provoked. He sensed something else as well, more than one presence. If things spiralled out of control here, he feared he would have to crawl his way out.
He met Sheng Rufei’s gaze. It remained deep and unfathomable, now tinged with a trace of crimson. Emotions usually concealed were laid bare.
Cold detachment intertwined with obsession, and a frenzied possessiveness revealed in full.
Lin Shijin stayed perfectly still. His fingers still grasped the snake’s tail, but as he met Sheng Rufei’s eyes, it was as though he were bewitched, his heart trembling in response.
In that moment of distraction, the snake’s tail slipped free from his grasp and slid elsewhere. His cheek was caught, and the serpent’s tongue pried open his lips.
His back pressed against the cold stone wall, his mind ringing. A muffled whimper escaped his throat. His fingers, which had clutched Sheng Rufei’s robe, faltered. The cold tongue felt like poison, and before he could swallow, a flush spread across his cheeks.
The chill spread through his entire body. At first he still had the strength to resist, but soon a strange sensation stirred within him. Meeting Sheng Rufei’s gaze, he saw that those eyes were filled entirely with him, and he felt himself sinking into them, wanting nothing more than to remain there.
To have those eyes hold only him.
He saw his own reflection in them. Tears welled at the corners of his eyes, blurring his vision. His body trembled, his fingertips brushing something cold, though there was not a part of him that was not burning.
“Shixiong… look at me… I’m afraid of pain…”
Lin Shijin was struggling to endure it. He felt as though something within him had changed. Just moments ago he had not been like this, yet after swallowing, everything had shifted.
His Daoist robe lay scattered on the ground, his wrists exposed, pale and smooth. His cheeks burned, his fingers barely holding onto Sheng Rufei’s robe, his breathing uneven.
The snake’s tail coiled around his legs, restraining him. Silver hair spilled around him. His ear was brushed lightly, and Sheng Rufei’s voice, hoarse and coaxing, sounded near.
“It won’t hurt. Let go.”
Sheng Rufei’s breath filled his ear. Lin Shijin could not bear the closeness of it. His fingers still clutched the fabric, his body damp with sweat, exuding a faint, sweet fragrance like frost-touched orchids.
His grip tightened until his knuckles paled. Sheng Rufei’s breathing grew heavier by his ear as he murmured his name.
“Xiao Jin…”
The flush at Lin Shijin’s ears spread to his cheeks. Hearing those two words left him dazed, especially spoken by Sheng Rufei.
It was as though something stirred deep within his soul, an instinctive urge to yield.
His fingers tangled in the silver hair as he gave a faint reply. He seemed like soaked paper, or a butterfly pinned in place, his neck slightly bent, his eyes glistening with moisture.
“Xiao Jin…”
Sheng Rufei’s murmurs echoed in his ear. The youth before him seemed almost to merge with him. His consciousness dimmed, his fingers brushing the snake’s tail, until he finally slipped into unconsciousness.
Before he lost awareness, all he saw was Sheng Rufei’s face. Those eyes held only him, cold yet tinged with madness and stubborn intensity, calling his name again and again, gripping his wrist so he could not escape.
Lin Shijin had no strength left to speak. He could not withstand it. Naturally averse to pain and somewhat indolent, it was already remarkable that he had held back his tears for so long, though in the end he still cried, his tears licked away by Sheng Rufei.
*
The Blood Tower had originally been used by Jinyue Temple to imprison malevolent entities, and later to suppress the Qiushui Sword.
Within the tower lay countless natural formations. At the very top were numerous water mirrors of varying sizes, one of which displayed the scene of the Serpent Aspect Hell.
The surroundings were pitch black. The mirrors embedded in the stone walls clearly reflected how the beautiful youth struggled briefly before yielding, his face suffused with colour.
His eyes brimmed with unmistakable feeling.
At the centre sat a man cloaked in a black hooded robe, his features hidden, only a pair of vermilion earrings visible. Shadows obscured his brows and eyes, rendering his expression unreadable.
Wisps of black mist flickered around him. One figure, wearing a mask patterned with crane feathers, emerged with a low laugh.
“If the master feels soft-hearted, taking him away would not be difficult.”
“In any case, he will eventually fall into the master’s hands. But do not forget… why you created that incarnation in the first place.”
Another figure appeared nearby, a demon-immortal mask covering his face, his tone lightly amused. “Feng Rugao’s plan has come to nothing.”
“If the master still cannot let go, then bring him back. Make him fall in love with you, tire of him, then kill him. Wuhui City has no need for such a plaything.”
Other shadowy figures flickered in and out. One raised a brow slightly.
“The master cannot possibly still care about him.”
“Otherwise he would not have placed a dark curse upon him. Our poor little prince’s reincarnation likely will not leave the Blood Tower alive.”
Their words were steeped in mockery. Having followed him for a thousand years, they knew his nature well. The man lifted his gaze towards them, a trace of emotion surfacing in his eyes, and they fell silent at once.
“The Blood Refining Array has not yet been activated?”
“Not yet,” someone replied. “Some disciples remain outside the tower.”
“Wait another day.”
The shadow answered in assent and vanished. The remaining figures dissipated as well. None dared to speak further.
If he did not care, why go to such lengths to torment him?
After they were gone, no one noticed the silver-haired youth in the mirror suddenly lift his gaze. With a sharp crack, the mirror shattered into fragments.
*
When Lin Shijin awoke, he did not know how much time had passed. He remained where he was, covered by an outer robe. His body felt as though it had been crushed; even the slightest movement brought pain.
His face was pale. His gaze first fell upon the robe draped over him, then slowly shifted to the small silver snake coiled around his hand.
His mind was still sluggish from waking. The little snake clung to his wrist, unusually dependent. His thoughts buzzed in confusion.
Could this really be… the snake he had given birth to?
The previous day, Sheng Rufei had been murmuring incessantly in his ear, leaving him thoroughly disoriented.
Lin Shijin sat there for a long while. His fingers remained still, yet the little snake coiled around them of its own accord, intimately attached.
He was still in the same place, though the floor tiles had opened, and Sheng Rufei was nowhere to be seen.
“Shixiong?” he called. His throat felt as though it had been split apart, his lips aching faintly. He moved his fingers slightly, but heard no movement from the Illusion Serpent outside.
His view was limited here; he could not see clearly.
At his call, a familiar figure passed by outside. Sheng Rufei had returned to his usual appearance, though faint silver scales still lingered at his neck.
He approached, something glinting in his fingers. Lin Shijin looked closer. It appeared to be a ring.
He felt a little embarrassed facing Sheng Rufei now. His gaze dropped to his own fingers, marked all over, and he shifted uneasily.
His mind briefly went blank, unable to form a question. Instead, he pointed at the small snake.
“Shixiong, what is this?”
Sheng Rufei glanced at the incarnation he had left behind, then at the youth’s flushed face. His gaze paused slightly, but he did not answer at once.
“No way…” Lin Shijin murmured, bewildered. His fingers tightened around Sheng Rufei’s robe. If Sheng Rufei could become a snake, then his own… seemed not entirely impossible.
He touched his eyelids, realising how absurd his thoughts were, and shook his head to clear them. Then he looked again at the ring in Sheng Rufei’s hand, silently questioning.
It looked familiar, as though it were the sacred object guarded by the Illusion Serpent.
“It is the sacred relic guarded by the Illusion Serpent,” Sheng Rufei said. He knelt on one knee, took Lin Shijin’s wrist, and slipped the ring onto his finger.
“The Illusion Serpent?” Lin Shijin frowned. “With it guarding the relic, how did you obtain it?”
“I killed it,” Sheng Rufei replied simply. His gaze lingered briefly at the youth’s neck before withdrawing, the tips of his ears tinged red. His tone remained cool, though faintly awkward.
“Does your body still hurt?”
Lin Shijin had not noticed until then. At the question, the pain returned in full. He clenched his teeth, his face paling further, tears gathering in his eyes.
“What do you think?”
There was a trace of grievance in his voice.
It had not been like this the day before. Seeing Sheng Rufei’s reddened ears again, Lin Shijin felt both embarrassed and annoyed. He would not be fooled again. That feigned innocence was all an act.
“It hurts everywhere,” he muttered, still aggrieved, still wrapped in Sheng Rufei’s robe.
Sheng Rufei fell silent for a moment, looking at him. As his fingers reached towards Lin Shijin’s face, Lin Shijin flushed instinctively.
“Stay away from me,” he said, pushing at him, though he could not move him at all, and ended up glaring instead.
Yet with moisture still at the corners of his eyes, the glare held no threat at all, more like a kitten raising its paw in protest.
Sheng Rufei withdrew his hand, his lips pressed tight. He produced several small bottles and jars, then reached for Lin Shijin’s fingers again, the gesture faintly soothing.
“It was my fault.”
His voice was cool, but there was a softness in his gaze.
Lin Shijin was easily softened. As Sheng Rufei held his fingers, he remembered something and asked, “Why can you return to normal now?”
He had clearly been half-serpent before.
The moment he asked, he looked up, only to see Sheng Rufei’s ears grow even redder.
