玉獸醫師

There was only one way to interpret the presence of a beautifully crafted jade tool made in the shape of a penis. Only one reason for it to be kept at his bedside.

A very, very small voice in the back of Lian Zhidiao’s head suggested that maybe the original Lian Zhidiao was using it on his partner. But this didn’t explain Sui Zhong interpreting his master’s appraisal of the dildo as a time to offer ‘ointment’, whatever that was. Nor was it likely to be the case, since Lian Zhidiao had a perfectly serviceable unit himself, and so a jade facsimile was not needed. There were also the lascivious presumptions that Zhou Xianzhi had made.

And so this (it must be said again, lovingly detailed) jade dick had sat here, when his other things clearly showed signs of tampering. Sui Zhong clearly knew, and so his father clearly knew. His mother? His sisters? How loose was Sui Zhong’s tongue? 

Investigation of the other boxes in the drawer once Sui Zhong had withdrawn didn’t produce anything better: one cock more roughly carved from ivory, and another one made from bronze, with a large ring attached to the base. Presumably this was so it could be pushed and pulled, with the ring as a handle. The verdict seemed clear. The original Lian Zhidiao was not only gay, he was a bottom. 

Not that it was any of this Lian Zhidiao’s business, who had to deal with the fallout from his sullied reputation.

He half-expected his father to call on him for dinner that first night, but no summons came, and Sui Zhong led a bunch of servants in with a meal for him. The food was good, it was true, but company was what made eating meals enjoyable. Sui Zhong and the other servants were loyal to his father. Inviting Yue Fengjian to join him probably wouldn’t be allowed, and him leaving the family estate after having so dearly bought his father’s support would not be prudent either. 

So he ate alone. 

His bed, for all the action it may have seen in the past, was quite comfortable. Better than any bed in this world he’d slept in yet. The cushion was thick and soft, and Sui Zhong made sure that his room was warmed by a brazier and he didn’t want for blankets. In the morning, Sui Zhong pulled aside the netting around his master’s bed and woke him with a soft voice. 

The days passed slowly; Lian Zhidiao didn’t see much of his father. His mother never called for him either. This made Lian Zhidiao suspect that even though Sui Zhong had spoken of her will as being something that had to be followed, that she was not in a position to exert her will directly. Perhaps his father had privately told her to give him the silent treatment. Lian Zhidiao supposed that it wasn’t all bad: if he had to also face a stranger-who-was-his-mother as well, it might be too much for him. He spent more time with Sui Zhong than he did with his family. 

In fact, if Lian Zhidiao had to guess, the longer Sui Zhong spent with him, the more at ease he was taking care of his master, and the more fondness he seemed to show. When Lian Zhidiao made an offhand comment about wanting more pickled peppers, the next meal had an extra dish of them. Every meal after that also came with a few extra peppers in a dish. Doubtless this Lian Zhidiao’s bathing requirements were more strenuous than the original’s, but Sui Zhong saw to it that the baths were ready promptly and scented with floral water. His hand was tender when he combed out Lian Zhidiao’s hair, as if he didn’t want to give his hair a painful jerk.

After days of this kind of behavior, Lian Zhidiao developed a nagging suspicion that Sui Zhong had stayed in the Lian family’s service only to have the chance to see him again. 

When a week had gone by, and a light frost overnight announced the arrival of winter, a messenger came bearing a small box, with no clue as to the sender. Sui Zhong presented it to Lian Zhidiao, his neutral expression hiding his curiosity. 

Desperate for something to break up the dreadful monotony, Lian Zhidiao opened it without a second thought. Inside were a few pieces of fragrant wood, labeled with minute brushstrokes, and a small slip of paper, with instructions written down on how many parts to use of each kind of wood. . 

“Incense?” Sui Zhong could not contain his curiosity any further, and had come forward to see what was inside. 

“Yes,” Lian Zhidiao said. But what kind of incense? “Bring me a knife and some scales.” 

Once Sui Zhong did so, Lian Zhidiao carefully shaved off splinters of incense wood. Using the scale, he weighed out shavings in the correct proportions, and then placed them in the incense burner. A coal to start them burning, and within a few seconds, a blue ribbon of smoke filled the room with an unmistakable fragrance. Lian Zhidiao covered his mouth with his hand. 

Yue Fengjian had sent the same incense that was used to perfume his robes. The smell was so comforting. If Lian Zhidiao closed his eyes, he could almost feel Yue Fengjian in the room with him. 

He looked at the list of proportions, at the neat and regimented brush strokes. To be so close to something Yue Fengjian had touched, and yet feel so far away from him! Lian Zhidiao wafted more of the incense toward his nose, feeling as if he had been a tightly wound spring that was only now able to relax. 

He thought about how isolated I would feel. He wanted to express his support, even if he couldn’t do it personally because of appearances. Then, recalling the lustful afternoon in the inn, another thought came forward. Perhaps, he is thinking of me being wrapped in his scent, as if I’d been wrapped in his robes. Used enough, the incense would impregnate his robes, making him always smell as if Yue Fengjian was by his side, even if Yue Fengjian had never been in the room. 

Yue Fengjian making sure that Lian Zhidiao was always reminded of him, wanting to stain him with fragrant oil, to claim him—heat began to rise in Lian Zhidiao’s face. 

“Gongzi?” 

Lian Zhidiao cleared his throat, well aware of his warm cheeks. “It’s a good proportion.” 

“Does the young master know who sent it?” 

“No,” Lian Zhidiao lied, as easily as he breathed. “But it would be a pity to waste it. I—” 

His eyes fell on the slip of paper with the instructions for proportions of each wood. “I’ll write down the instructions later,” he said, tucking the paper into his sleeve, “but this should be used to perfume my robes from now on.”  

Sui Zhong gave him a bow and removed the box to another room, while Lian Zhidiao enjoyed the rest of the incense. He even carried the burner around his bed, making sure the comforting smoke saturated the netting. 

That original Lian Zhidiao may have been onto something, making even his bed smell this good.

That evening, his father called him to join him for a meal. Although Lian Zhidiao was not at all looking forward to the idea of seeing Lian Angua, he was looking forward to seeing someone other than Sui Zhong. A low, round table was set up in the room just off the hall, clearly sized for at least three people, and seeming too big with just two. Lian Angua came into the room, looking more stately than he had when he blustered into the hall last week, and he even offered his son a smile.  

“You have settled back into your rooms. I trust Sui Zhong made sure that everything was satisfactory.” 

“Yes, Honored Father,” Lian Zhidiao said, forcing himself to give a gentle smile. “It is like I never left.” 

A curious look crossed Lian Angua’s face, but it passed and he didn’t comment on that statement. “You haven’t left to visit any of your old haunts.” 

Lian Zhidiao’s face fell into a serious expression. “My honored father is taking such extensive measures to restore my standing in the eyes of Sect Leader Wa. I dare not do anything to place such delicate negotiations in jeopardy.” 

“Not even for a visit to a teahouse?” 

“And pass by many eyes on the way there, to be entertained behind closed doors?” Lian Zhidiao shook his head. It was far too likely that his well-besmirched reputation would lead to someone getting the wrong idea, setting tongues wagging all over Jiuluwei City. With his luck, he’d end up at that kind of teahouse, and much worse off than before. 

The fine lines in Lian Angua’s face softened as he hummed in understanding.. “Your thoughtfulness is uncharacteristic, but perhaps spending the last two years as you have has been instructive for you.” 

Oh. Hearing that in his father’s voice made a lump rise in his throat.

Well, if the original Lian Zhidiao wasn’t exactly thoughtful, this Lian Zhidiao couldn’t really say he was surprised by the news. After all, he’d run away from his familial duty, lied about Hu Baitian’s involvement in a plot, stolen a jade beast, slept with two brothers, possibly at the same time—if anything, only someone else taking over his life could save his reputation. It was just unfortunate that he took his own life before things could really improve for him. 

“Your rectitude has not gone unnoticed.” Lian Angua said after finishing a bite. “Sui Zhong has told me that there are whispers of your return in the streets, but that you have not been seen. Sect Leader Wa himself expressed doubts that Yingyue could be convinced of your presence without seeing for herself.” 

A clammy feeling spread on the back of Lian Zhidiao’s neck. “I see. This foolish son did not consider that.” 

Lian Angua shook his head. “There is no need to worry. Sect Leader Wa has agreed to bring Yingyue to a dinner here in a few days where the two of you can become reacquainted.” He took a sip from his tea. “You will apologize to her for your behavior and seek her forgiveness.” 

Lian Zhidiao’s appetite fled; he laid down his chopsticks. “And if she does not forgive me?” 

“That is not something you, I, or even Sect Leader Wa can control,” Lian Angua said. “Which is why you should throw yourself on her mercy, without reserve.” He spoke in a distant, casual way, as if this were the easiest thing in the world to do. 

Throwing myself upon her mercy. As if he had not suffered embarrassment enough at throwing himself on his father’s mercy, at his business being the topic of discussion among the town. It would be worse still if everyone knew that he was gay, and that this marriage—

That this marriage will be a sham from the beginning. 

“This humble son will spare nothing in seeking Wa Yingyue’s grace,” Lian Zhidiao said in a hollow voice. 

Folding his hands in his lap, Lian Angua smiled, pleased with the change in his son’s attitude. “Once you have convinced Wa Yingyue of your sincerity, the preparations for the wedding will resume.” 

Bitterness flooded Lian Zhidiao’s heart. He should be grateful for the chance to regain his standing, to help his father secure the family’s future, but instead, he felt only resentment. He nodded, bowing his head to his father. “Of course, Honored Father.” 

Lian Angua sat back from the table, looking satisfied. “Once the future has been secured, you can work as you like on your own projects, of course. Master Guizai will want to see you back for more training. Long periods of seclusion will make time pass in the blink of an eye.” A slightly misty look entered his eye. “Before you know it, you’ll have children of your own that you will want to see married and successful, with children of their own.”

Lian Zhidiao wasn’t sure about that. But Lian Angua seemed to have made up his mind about it. Having yoked himself to his father’s ambitions, he could only nod. The dinner concluded, and Lian Zhidiao returned to his chambers, his outlook bleak. The braziers had been lit, but there were no lanterns lit; doubtless something had called Sui Zhong away. 

Upon smelling Yue Fengjian’s incense lingering in his room, his heart twisted painfully again. He sank to his knees next to his bed, pressing his face against the cushion. Already, it smelled of the man who wasn’t there, and this alone kept him from bursting into tears. 

It’s just a marriage. 

Would Yue Fengjian even be interested in him once he was married? Would they both be unfaithful? Historically, it had always been the prerogative of powerful men to have whatever they wished, but only as long as other prerequisites were satisfied. 

The wife, the kids. Lian Zhidiao inhaled the scent of Yue Fengjian’s incense. 

It’s just a marriage. 

Lian Zhidiao heard footsteps coming down the low wooden walkway that led to his buildings. Letting out a wistful sigh, he pulled himself together and got to his feet before a knock sounded on the door. 

“Enter,” he said wearily.  

Sui Zhong had the restrained, polite excitement of a servant who has just learned of his master’s windfall. He was a touch out-of-breath as he spoke. “Gongzi, your father has just told me about the visit to be made by Sect Leader Wa.” Sui Zhong gave him an earnest smile. “We will make every effort to impress her with your sincerity, gongzi.” 

Lian Zhidiao nodded. 

Sui Zhong at last seemed to realized his master’s enervation; concern slowly ate away at his smile. “Is there something wrong?” 

“I… have my own fears about the marriage meeting.” 

There was a long pause, so long that it seemed like Sui Zhong had been struck speechless or otherwise rendered mute. He was more subdued when he spoke again, quiet trepidation in his voice. “You said as much before.” 

Lian Zhidiao looked up. “Before?” 

“Those years ago.” Concern was written over Sui Zhong’s face. 

Ah, so original Lian Zhidiao did confide in him.  

“I see,” Lian Zhidiao said. “I didn’t know if you would remember that.” 

“How could this one forget?” Sui Zhong’s voice was soft. 

“What should I do?” It was probably inappropriate to ask his servant for advice, but by this point, the outcast Lian Zhidiao had no one else he could ask. Though he was heavily compromised to Lian Angua, Sui Zhong was still the closest thing Lian Zhidiao had to a friend at the moment.  

“All of us have our parts to play, gongzi.” He hesitated for a moment and then continued, “It brought me great joy to hear that you had returned and that this one could once again lift you up above the others. Our lives have been linked since we were young. Naturally, this one will do whatever he can to ensure your courtship goes well.” 

Hearing Sui Zhong profess such strong loyalty to him wasn’t the kind of comfort he wanted, but it sounded like it might be possible to steal such loyalty away from his father. 

Lian Zhidiao forced a smile. It wasn’t the way he’d thought sacrificing himself would work, but modern interpretations of cannon fodder could probably include this. “We’ll do our best, then,” he said gently. 

Sui Zhong smiled back, and Lian Zhidiao felt a sinking feeling at this display of genuine happiness and willingness to serve. It wasn’t Sui Zhong’s fault. It was his own personal failings that made it impossible for him to accept something offered so generously. 

The next few days dragged on, until at last the date of the dinner was fixed, eleven days after he arrived. For the occasion, Sui Zhong suggested a robe adorned with a motif of paired cranes under a gold-embroidered willow, to express his desire to be married in the approaching spring. Lian Zhidiao agreed without argument. 

The morning of Wa Zhuangzhou’s visit, Lian Zhidiao spent half the morning in a bath, and had his robes heavily perfumed with Yue Fengjian’s incense. Sui Zhong put his hair up in a sleek topknot with a gold xiaoguan, and accented his eyes with a small bit of rouge. Lian Zhidiao kept the Yue storage ring near him like a talisman, and waited. 

Wa Zhuangzhou and Wa Yingyue arrived in a litter, their family crest of a mist-shrouded lantern prominently emblazoned in gold on the side. No doubt the purpose of their slow crawl through city streets was being seen by those who would spread gossip. 

Lian Angua waited for Wa Zhuangzhou to alight from the litter before cupping his hands and offering him a bow that was appropriately respectful and conciliatory. 

The reclusive sect leader bowed back before turning his eyes to Lian Zhidiao. He had a high forehead, with a brooding brow, and thin, pursed lips. He did not look like a man who spent very much time being happy, but to Lian Zhidiao’s surprise he smiled, and offered him a bow. 

Lian Zhidiao bowed back. He doesn’t seem too bad. 

Wa Zhuangzhou turned, offering his hand to help his daughter out of the litter. 

Upon seeing her, Lian Zhidiao could not help but think that his original estimation was right: Wa Yingyue was the most beautiful of all the women he’d written. She had lips like ripe cherries, silken black hair pulled into loops on top of her head, decorated with flowers and jet-adorned hairpins. Her eyes were tilted upwards; phoenix eyes, like Yue Fengjian. She looked every inch the fairy maiden, her cheeks the color of pale peach blossoms, her skin as luminous as a pearl against her sheer black robes. These were embroidered with white peonies, edged with gold. On the robe underneath, a lantern. 

For all its beauty, her face was carefully set in a mask of pleasantness, as if it had been carved into stone.

Lian Zhidiao met her with a bow, which she returned gracefully, her demure smile giving him hope that perhaps she might actually forgive him. With his hand on the rudder, he could steer Wa Zhuangzhou’s goodwill to the Yue sect.

Previous Chapter < Chapter 57: A Chilled Parting, Floating in Gold 
Next Chapter > Chapter 59: Black Rabbit And Lambent Moon

Lian Zhidiao covered his eyes with his hand. Given his goals—to support the protagonist as he builds his harem of political brides—he might have thought that the untimely arrival of Lian Zhidiao’s sister saved him from making a mistake. But any efforts at a logical or thankful mindset were drowned by the tide of lust still pulsing in his blood. 

Of all times! I was so close! 

Yue Fengjian stood, his own arousal still obvious, and walked to the door. He opened it by a crack and spoke to the innkeeper in a low voice. “Stall her for a few minutes and then bring her up.” 

From the quick way the door was shut, Lian Zhidiao assumed that the innkeeper had agreed. 

He drew in and then let out a deep breath to try to dispel the ache in his lower body. As he pulled his robes together, he caught a glimpse of his nipples, so intensely sucked and pinched that they were still standing proud on his chest. His face flushed red and he stood up to tie his inner robes back together. 

Yue Fengjian walked back over, his expression dark. “Did you go to see your family while you were waiting for me?” 

“No,” Lian Zhidiao said shortly. He pulled his outer robes together, wishing his irritation would make his erection subside faster.  

Yue Fengjian narrowed his eyes. “And yet she has already heard of your arrival.” His eyes slid toward the door. “Your swamp contains many snakes, I see.” 

“I should have expected it,” Lian Zhidiao groused, half under his breath. “After all, I’m the one who—” He stopped himself just before the words slipped out of his mouth. 

I’m the one who wrote this secretive, intrigue-ridden sect! I should have known there would be people watching the inns, or the sect school!

Yue Fengjian waited to hear him finish his sentence, one brow arched. 

Lian Zhidiao shook his head. “Forget it. It has to be dealt with now.” He sighed with irritation and smoothed down his hair. A small voice in the back of his mind said that this left the thorny matter of nearly sleeping with Yue Fengjian unresolved, but that was a problem for another time. 

What was Lian Zhidiao’s sister like? Since he didn’t remember anything about the character Lian Zhidiao himself, it was likely that Lian Zhidiao’s sister wasn’t anyone he’d thought up or written at all. She was an entirely original person, created by the world itself. To deal with her, he would have to read and understand her without the luxury of any of the insider knowledge he’d been relying on with Yue Fengjian. 

Best to let her talk as much as she likes and try to draw information out of her. Lian Zhidiao tugged at his robes and then looked over at Yue Fengjian. 

Yue Fengjian’s collar was still slightly askew, his lips a telltale shade of pink, but at least his erection was slowly going down. If he sat and draped his robe a certain way, the bulge was sure to disappear. Lian Zhidiao stepped closer to him, straightening his collar. 

“What are you doing?” Yue Fengjian’s voice had a hard edge. 

“Making it look like we were not in the middle of…” Lian Zhidiao’s words caught in his throat, and he felt his cheeks heating up. 

“Why?” Yue Fengjian’s scowl was particularly uncharitable. “If she gets the idea she interrupted something, maybe she will leave suddenly.” 

“I haven’t seen her in years,” Lian Zhidiao protested. “I can’t just send her away for no reason.” 

Yue Fengjian’s face said that there was a very good reason, but he let Lian Zhidiao straighten his collar and make sure his hair wasn’t mussed. After a few seconds of Lian Zhidiao fussing over him, he caught one of Lian Zhidiao’s wrists in his hand. His sharp scowl had softened. It looked like he might embrace Lian Zhidiao again at any moment.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Lian Zhidiao whispered, that look stealing his breath as surely as any kiss.  

Yue Fengjian didn’t show any signs of contrition for his last-ditch appeal to Lian Zhidiao’s libido. But at soft approaching footsteps, he did let go of Lian Zhidiao’s wrist and turned away. He had just crossed his arms over his ample chest when a knock sounded at the door.  

Now he is sulking like a spoiled young master! 

Lian Zhidiao gave Yue Fengjian a look that entreated him to please just be good until this is over, and composed himself the best he could as he walked to the door. His heart pounded in his chest as he drew back the bar and opened it. 

The plump-cheeked innkeeper whispered, “She’s here, gongzi.” 

Lian Zhidiao opened the door wider and the innkeeper stood back against the wall to let a hooded figure in a black cloak slip inside. With a nod to the innkeeper, Lian Zhidiao closed the door and bolted it behind her. 

Lian Chanrong pushed back her hood, revealing a narrow face with high cheekbones made more severe by all her hair gathered in a round bun at the back of her head. She had the same sad eyes as Lian Zhidiao himself. Based on this alone, it was easy to see that they were brother and sister. 

“Jiejie,” Lian Zhidiao said slowly, unsure how friendly they had been. As he’d learned with Yue Fengjian’s family, there might be complications. 

“You might have sent a letter, or something,” she sniffled. Before he could reply, she immediately enfolded him in a soft, light hug, resting her head against his. “All this time with no word, never knowing what became of my crybaby little brother…” 

A catch in her voice lanced through Lian Zhidiao’s heart, as surely as if he’d heard his own big sister panicking over his disappearance. She must have cried over him when he died in the street, the same as Lian Chanrong must have worried for her brother. He could not dry his own sister’s tears, but he could keep Lian Chanrong from fretting so. “I’m sorry I didn’t send word,” he mumbled into her shoulder. 

“Stupid little brother,” she said, but her voice was so colored with tears of relief that the affectionate insult landed on his ear as softly as clouds. 

It was at this point that she realized at last that Lian Zhidiao wasn’t alone in his room. She froze stiff in Lian Zhidiao’s arms. 

Despite his scary countenance, Yue Fengjian gave her a proper bow. “I am Yue Hanqi, courtesy name Fengjian, of the Xinxue Yue sect.” 

Like a frightened deer, Lian Chanrong’s eyes flashed back to her brother. Seeing an expectant look on Lian Zhidiao’s face, she turned back to Yue Fengjian and returned his bow. “Lian Chanrong. Are you…” She hesitated for a moment and then an uneasy smile formed on her face. “I apologize, I wasn’t expecting anyone else here. I thought xiaodi and I would be able to speak privately.” 

“You can speak with him here,” Lian Zhidiao said, standing next to his sister and looking at Yue Fengjian. “He’s trustworthy.” 

Lian Chanrong unfastened her cloak and laid it aside, revealing a ruqun in green and purple with gold chrysanthemum embroidery climbing her sleeves. Over that were two sheer robes, the colors of pumpkin and padparadscha, that even together could not have offered her any warmth. She was thin and frail, just Lian Zhidiao’s height, and seemed to shiver the moment she doffed the cloak. She moved closer to the brazier and sat down, blessedly not on the bed that had just seen intense use.

Lian Zhidiao called for the innkeeper to bring them some tea and then sat down next to her, across from Yue Fengjian. Time to find a delicate way to open conversation. “I had intended to come see you soon. We only arrived in the city today.” 

“I know,” she said, facing him with her expression still pinched. “I couldn’t believe it.” She stared at Lian Zhidiao’s face for a moment, drinking him in. “What have you been doing?” 

“Traveling,” Lian Zhidiao said obliquely. “Found work where I could.” He didn’t want to say that Lian Zhidiao had been down to two taels of silver and fairly threadbare robes before falling in with the well-heeled ‘prince’ of the Yue sect. 

Lian Chanrong glanced at Yue Fengjian and she looked expectantly at Lian Zhidiao, as if to ask, And him?

Lian Zhidiao wanted to just let the obvious request for information slide—he hadn’t yet come up with a real reason that her little brother would have taken up with a Yue sect member—but he was saved by Yue Fengjian’s quick thinking. 

“He’s a skilled cultivator and magician. And he’s already proven himself essential in handling various problems,” Yue Fengjian offered. 

Lian Chanrong nodded in understanding. “Mother told me that the household received a payment for services you rendered to the Lin sect. Father wasn’t happy about it.” 

“I take it he didn’t like it?” 

“No,” Lian Chanrong said. 

So the rift between father and son is that deep. Given that I likely ruined a lot of his plans, that is to be expected. 

The tea arrived, and the act of pouring it out gave Lian Zhidiao time to think. But on the other hand, it’s quite normal to send money home to the family. With the Lin and Yue sects just sending remuneration on their own without checking with me, it’s like direct deposit! Why did it make him mad? 

“I see.” 

Lian Chanrong gratefully warmed her hands on her teacup. “Considering the circumstances you’d left in, he said he didn’t even want to hear your name. But then,” she paused, with a small nod to Yue Fengjian, “there was more money, coming from the Yue sect. There was a curious note on it which drove Father to distraction. It said, ‘for the destruction of a peach orchard’.”   

Lian Zhidiao slowly turned his head to look at Yue Fengjian. 

Yue Fengjian arched an eyebrow in response, daring Lian Zhidiao to say something. 

This man! 

“Is that so,” Lian Zhidiao said, setting his jaw. “I do seem to recall an incident regarding a few peach trees in the Western lands, but it hardly seems like something the Yue sect should offer payment for.” 

“He sent me a letter, asking if I knew anything about it—because of that time in the peach orchard when we were little. I had no idea. But,” she favored him with a sunny smile, “That was when I started to leave instructions with certain people to contact me if they saw anything. Especially anyone with the Yue sect.”  

No wonder they were found so quickly; Yue Fengjian was eye-catching even in a sea of red robes. One red-robed man in a city of black would have caught anyone’s attention, much less someone who was looking for a member of the Yue sect. Lian Zhidiao could only nod. 

“You’re going to see Father, right? That’s why you came back?” There was a hopeful note in her voice that made Lian Zhidiao’s heart sink. 

“Actually, we’re here on my business,” Yue Fengjian cut in. “I’ve sought an audience with Sect Leader Wa Zhuangzhou on a matter of some importance.” 

“Sect Leader Wa hasn’t been seen much lately, I’ve heard,” she said. “There was a moon-viewing party last month, and then a few weeks before that, my wedding.” 

Surprise showed on Lian Zhidiao’s face. “The wedding!” 

Roses bloomed in Lian Chanrong’s cheeks, and she lowered her eyes demurely and nodded. “That was the last time dajie was out as well.” 

She’s the middle sister! Lian Zhidiao’s brow wrinkled. “Is dajie okay?” 

Lian Chanrong looked stricken. “Her pregnancy has been difficult. The doctors have told her to stay in bed until the baby comes, with no excitement.” 

So the older sister is married too! And pregnant! I’m going to be an uncle?! Lian Zhidiao couldn’t keep a smile from breaking out on his face at the thought of having a little one running around. He nodded, trying to keep his smile sympathetic instead of looking like he was gleeful about the prospect of his sister losing her pregnancy. “It’ll be okay. Dajie will be fine.” 

He said it with the confidence of a writer who knew the story, but he didn’t know the story at all. Rather, he merely wished for it to be so with all his heart. 

Lian Chanrong nodded. “I hope so.” She glanced at Yue Fengjian again, and then met Lian Zhidiao’s eyes earnestly. “Please try to reconcile with Father.” 

“Erjie,” Lian Zhidiao started to protest. “I don’t think any amount of money is going to undo what I did.” 

“Please try. You have a little credit to your name now, having lined his pockets some. He would have to at least hear you out.” She looked him over, taking in the robes that Yue Fengjian had given him, which were thick and heavy compared to the gauzy layers that the Wa sect favored. She reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently. “You haven’t done so badly you can’t show your face to him. Please, for the good of the family.” 

Lian Zhidiao’s heart twisted. Usually when his own sister had said things like that, it was because whatever small peace offering his parents made hadn’t worked to repair their everyday interactions. ‘For the good of the family’ was always so he would paper over an insult, let go of a cutting remark, ignore the way others talked about him. So that he would forget when he was wronged to preserve happiness in the home. 

Now, to be asked to do something ‘for the good of family’ when he was surely the one at fault…

Lian Zhidiao let out a small sigh. Accepting consequences for the original Lian Zhidiao’s crimes had been galling, but he’d had no other choice. Likewise, he now had to make peace the same way. “I’ll go tomorrow.” 

Lian Chanrong gave him a dazzling smile, and wrapped him up in a hug. 

I miss my family. Lian Zhidiao’s heart twisted even more. But I can’t go back now. I can only stay here, and make the best of this one. He awkwardly hugged her back.

“I have to go; I didn’t tell my husband where I was going. He’ll be worried.” 

“Oh,” Lian Zhidiao looked at the windows; the light was fading. “Do you need an escort?” 

“I have my litter downstairs,” she said. “They’ll see me back safely.” She smiled at him again. “I’ll be waiting for a message from Mother. She will be so pleased.” 

Resigned to his choice, Lian Zhidiao nodded. He rose and fetched her cloak, hanging it around her shoulders. With a fond smile for Lian Zhidiao and a bow to Yue Fengjian, she left. 

Lian Zhidiao opened the shutter and looked down into the street. Sure enough, she got into a litter, and they trotted off into the gloaming. He heard Yue Fengjian pour himself some more tea, and closed the shutters against the chill in the night air. 

“We shouldn’t wait too much longer to eat,” Yue Fengjian said. 

“Mn,” Lian Zhidiao agreed.

Yue Fengjian finished his tea and then let out his own sigh. 

There wasn’t much to say. Lian Zhidiao knew how Yue Fengjian’s parents hemmed him into a tight spot, and how only his continued, demonstrated excellence kept him from being crushed under their expectations. He was a prince who acted like a prince, with the soul and heart of a prince. He could be exactly what he was supposed to be. 

Lian Zhidiao on the other hand, was a modest failure. Sneak thief and runaway groom, he squandered his natural talents with his unfilial choices. Who knew why he’d made them, but they’d ended up in his early death. Chen Jiajian also had his own failures, his own early death. The comparison created a deep well of realization in his mind that he didn’t want to draw from. The effort required in sliding his consciousness around it without looking left him sullen and withdrawn.

Even a sumptuous meal of crispy duck, lightly fried water chestnuts and green beans, spicy celtuce with wood ear, white soup with a luxurious texture, and silken tofu with syrup didn’t make him feel any better. He’d half-expected Yue Fengjian to continue trying to romance him after they had a bath, but Yue Fengjian seemed to have picked up on the muted mood without him saying anything. New coals were put in the brazier, and they went to sleep, each in their own beds, without much discussion. 

The morning dawned clear and cold; when Lian Zhidiao peeked outside, he could see his breath. He exhaled deeply, letting the cold air brace him against the unsettling dread that was already starting to build. 

Yue Fengjian opened his eyes when Lian Zhidiao closed the shutters. He gave a mighty stretch and then sat up in bed, looking across their bedroom at Lian Zhidiao. 

Lian Zhidiao started dressing for the day in silence, combing through his hair, lost in imagining how to react to a father he didn’t know when just seeing his not-sister had animated a pang of longing for home. 

“Do you want me to come with you?” 

Lian Zhidiao looked up at Yue Fengjian’s sleep-roughened voice. He opened his mouth to say no, that he didn’t need help, that he could handle it on his own. But then he closed his mouth and nodded. 

Yue Fengjian pushed back his blankets and stood up. As he walked past Lian Zhidiao to get to his own clothes, he put a reassuring hand on Lian Zhidiao’s shoulder. The warmth of his palm lingered long after he stepped away. 

Previous Chapter < Chapter 54: The City Of Nine Reeds
Next Chapter > Chapter 56: Home Is Wherever I’m With You

The little village that sprang up around the inn was not much more than one extended family, but it wasn’t far from the next little village. Lian Zhidiao and Yue Fengjian followed the Black Highway north; the land buckled into softly rolling hills below them. The broad, even road snaked to and fro through gentle valleys carpeted with rice fields. Villages sprang up along the way with barely a day’s ride between them. With the harvest collected, all that was left in the fields was straw which would be put to the torch as soon as it was dry enough to light. Manure crops were being planted to hold the winter sunlight for safekeeping in a green larder, waiting for spring.  

During their stays in smaller inns, they shared rooms (which did, indeed, only have one bed), and Yue Fengjian undertook the task of teaching Lian Zhidiao the art of demon tracking.

In principle, Lian Zhidiao understood how this fantastic form of cultivation worked, but he had always envisioned it with kind of a gamer mindset. One cultivated and leveled up by breaking bottlenecks, getting stronger with time. Like a character in a game, he would acquire new skills immediately when reaching a new level, and understand intuitively how to use them. It had certainly contributed to this viewpoint, that the original owner of his body had left all his techniques in a jade slip for him to learn instantly. Receiving Shanzhen (which made his spiritual techniques available) also added to this perception of ‘leveling up’. 

The actual process of learning a technique, however, was vastly different than he’d imagined. 

Yue Fengjian’s attitude toward Lian Zhidiao changed completely once the mantle of ‘student’ was bestowed upon him. Up to a point, Yue Fengjian was a patient teacher. But he continually described the technique of tracking as needing to ‘feel’ for something in the area, and Lian Zhidiao, try though he might, wasn’t very good at feeling things he couldn’t see. Frustrated by the conflict between their teaching and learning styles, Yue Fengjian let the matter rest.

Four days after stopping at that riverside inn, the gentle valleys were overwhelmed by flat farmland. 

At the foot of the last rolling hills, Yipan Town was a larger trading center that straddled the Caifeng River. The Black Highway ran through it, via a hump-shaped bridge that rose high over the river. Once on the northern bank, the road turned east, running roughly parallel to the river, but drifting to the north. Yipan Town was a center for the collection and production of items made of precious jet, and their first step deep into Wa territory. Most towns south were a mixture of Lin and Wa sect members, interspersed with the occasional Zhou sect member. Yipan was the first town along the Black Highway fully controlled by the Wa sect. 

Though the sun was still high in the sky, Lian Zhidiao motioned for them to land in the city below them. Almost immediately upon landing, several villagers turned to watch them walk past. It might have been that they didn’t often see Yue sect members. Despite their shared border, there was a mountain range between the two sects. But it also might have been Yue Fengjian himself: broad-shouldered, tall, handsome, obviously full of male vigor, he turned heads no matter where he was. It was hard to tell which was the bigger draw. 

After asking around for a map, Lian Zhidiao was directed to a mapmaker. Yue Fengjian let him lead the way, looking at the hustle and bustle around them. The streets here were dominated by Wa sect members in black robes with silk blackwork embroidered on the sleeves. Every sect member they saw was dressed to the nines, their multiple layers set apart so they could be easily seen by others, telling stories in the figures sewn over their shoulders and hems. One sect member wore inner clothes embroidered with pale yellow osmanthus, and a moon on her shoulder, barely visible through sheer black robes embroidered with black rabbits that had coral and pearl eyes. About half of the magicians wore a spindle belt dyed black instead of red, as Lian Zhidiao wore his. Many of the sect members wore jet in addition to their jade spindles, either in jewels suspended from their ears, or as beads garlanded around their necks. Some even wore the jewels threaded through their hair, making them sparkle mysteriously each time the subtle gems caught the light.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lian Zhidiao saw Yue Fengjian’s head turn slightly whenever a Wa sect member walked past. But whenever he sensed that Lian Zhidiao was watching him, he immediately acted like he hadn’t just been looking. Unexpectedly, Lian Zhidiao found himself eating vinegar every time he saw a Wa sect member approaching. Even more surprisingly, Yue Fengjian slowly started to show signs of a good mood, the corners of his mouth rising in an almost constant smile as they walked. When they reached the mapmaker, Lian Zhidiao was secretly relieved just to get Yue Fengjian out of the street.

The mapmaker worked out of his home, a siheyuan off the main streets. Upon arriving, they were offered tea while the mapmaker had his apprentice bring out the maps he had to offer for sale. After some back and forth between Lian Zhidiao and Yue Fengjian over which to invest in, and some haggling over prices, they selected a map of all the human lands and a map of the eastern shores: the eastern Lin sect, the Wa sect, and the Zhou sect. 

On a whim, Lian Zhidiao decided to ask a risky question. “Uncle, do you know where Guizai might be found?” 

“Hmm?” The mapmaker looked a little surprised. “Why would you need to know that?” His eyes shifted to Yue Fengjian. “Going to try to lose your swords?” 

“No, no,” Lian Zhidiao said. “He’s my Master, and I was thinking I would make a trip back to see him. I know the way from Jiuluwei City by landmarks, but when it comes to reading a map, I’m liable to get lost if the way isn’t pointed out for me.” 

“Ah,” the mapmaker said, and he took out a small stylus, making a gentle divot in the map. “Here, north of Ranzhao Village.” 

“Thank you, Uncle,” Lian Zhidiao said, smiling. “Even if I fly as high as I can, I can’t see as much land as your map shows, and certainly not with this level of painstaking detail.” 

The mapmaker couldn’t hide a pleased chuckle at having his work praised so effusively. Yue Fengjian paid him for the maps and tucked them away in his storage ring. They were barely out on the street again before Lian Zhidiao heard a scoff from Yue Fengjian. 

“That was quite a performance.” 

“What part of that was a performance?” 

“The sugary part at the end.” Yue Fengjian looked sidelong at him. “If you’re going to fawn over him, you could make it less obvious.” 

“It’s good manners,” Lian Zhidiao sniffed. 

“You don’t have to flatter someone you’re paying. He knows the value of his maps, given what he charges.” 

“A local mapmaker will know the area better than a distant one,” Lian Zhidiao replied, one corner of his mouth lifting. Not every mapmaker will be able to claim they sold to the Emperor. His prices will likely go even higher after you’ve taken the throne. “He’ll be happy to have had your custom later.” 

Yue Fengjian was giving him a quizzical look when he suddenly stopped still in his tracks and turned to look over his shoulder. They weren’t yet back to the main streets, but the sound of Yue Fengjian stopping made Lian Zhidiao halt as well. Yue Fengjian tilted his head, almost like he was listening, or considering someone’s words, and then his eyes flicked to Lian Zhidiao. 

He reached out and took Lian Zhidiao’s wrist, dragging him down the street in the opposite direction. 

“Where are we going?” 

They emerged onto a narrow street, which Yue Fengjian looked up and down. It was still early in the day, and there were plenty of people walking about. “Here,” he said in a clipped tone, releasing Lian Zhidiao’s wrist. “Follow me.” 

Bewildered, Lian Zhidiao followed him as he flew up and out of the town, just to the northeast, and alighted on the ridge of a field boundary. 

“We’ve been having trouble with teaching you,” Yue Fengjian said, before Lian Zhidiao had even sheathed Shanzhen. “Because if there’s no demon around, there’s nothing to track.” 

Lian Zhidiao turned and looked back at Yipan Town. “Is there a demon in there?” 

“Depends,” Yue Fengjian said. “But I’m going to show you how to find it. Sit down.” 

They sat down cross-legged along the dry, browning grasses, with Yue Fengjian sitting entirely too close. He pulled back his sleeve a little, offering his wrist to Lian Zhidiao. 

“Watch how I use the technique. Keep some distance,” he added hastily, as if he’d just remembered that Lian Zhidiao’s other core contained enough deviate qi to poison him. “Just watch what I do.” 

Lian Zhidiao made absolutely sure that the path to the other core was closed before taking Yue Fengjian’s forearm and concentrating on looking inside. A mighty sun blazed inside him, more brilliant than Lian Zhidiao’s own core, and without a core of shadow besides. He might have been able to better appreciate Yue Fengjian’s power if he wasn’t also looking at the bare skin revealed under his sleeve. 

The longer Lian Zhidiao looked, the more he was able to perceive certain things: an increase in qi collected around Yue Fengjian’s eyes and hands, and a soft exhale from his mouth. Like a scene from a spy movie, Yue Fengjian breathed out, and a small thread of light was visible, if only for a moment. 

Yue Fengjian lifted his hand and ran his fingers under the light, as if he might pluck the string of an instrument. Lian Zhidiao watched as he lifted his fingers ever so slightly, letting it pull against the pads of his fingers. Then he lowered his hand. 

“Did you see it?” 

Lian Zhidiao licked his lips; his mouth had gone dry. “Yes.” 

“Then give me your hand.” 

Yue Fengjian shifted in a flash, collecting Lian Zhidiao between his legs and sitting them back-to-front. He looked over Lian Zhidiao’s shoulder at their hands, and put his forearm back into Lian Zhidiao’s hand while holding the other hand ready. Lian Zhidiao was completely still as Yue Fengjian moved him into position. It was like they were a music teacher and his student, having his body moved to put him in the right position to play—but it was all right between Yue Fengjian’s legs! 

“Look inside again,” he directed, but his voice was low and close to Lian Zhidiao’s ear. It was less a request and more an entreaty. 

Why does he have to sound like that when we are like this?! Their closeness reminded Lian Zhidiao of the way they flew together. It was familiar, if not exactly comfortable, to be this near to him. Pushing down the emotions that churned in his heart, he focused on the technique. Again he saw Yue Fengjian’s qi gathered around his fingers and his eyes. This time, when he breathed out, he saw the thread of light a little more clearly. 

“See it?” 

“Yes,” Lian Zhidiao said. 

“You see how they disappear if you stop breathing?” Yue Fengjian murmured. “The land here is balanced, so you can see it with little effort. In areas with stained earth, it is easier to see correct qi, more difficult to see deviate qi.”

“And crawling earth?” 

“Very easy to see correct qi.” Yue Fengjian hesitated before adding, “In crawling earth, one does not usually need to track demons.” 

“Demons find you, I imagine,” Lian Zhidiao said. 

“Usually.”

Lian Zhidiao turned his head halfway. “Does this mean you can’t track a correct qi user in roaring earth?” 

“It’s nearly impossible.” 

“The trace disappears. Like red writing under red light,” Lian Zhidiao murmured. These traces, these threads of light, were visible only a little because they were of correct qi in a balanced environment. “Then, the demon…?” 

“Look up.” 

Behind him, Yue Fengjian drew in a deep pull of qi from the surrounding area, and breathed out his mouth at the same time. A small thread of purple light floated in front of his eyes. 

Yue Fengjian took Lian Zhidiao’s free hand and matched their fingers together. “Concentrate,” he ordered. 

Lian Zhidiao took a deep breath, and Yue Fengjian lifted their paired fingers up against the purple thread of light. Amazingly, he could feel it running over his fingers, like a vine whip, rough and knobbly. Yue Fengjian was careful never to let the thread go taut, and carefully guided Lian Zhidiao’s hand again. 

“This is a Yao,” Yue Fengjian said. “Maybe a half-Yao.” 

He let the purple thread move off their fingers. “Be careful not to pluck them or pull them like you would draw a bowstring,” he warned. “There are some who can tell they are being tracked.”

The purple light lingered much longer than their own traces, but it, too, disappeared. 

“And demons? What do their traces look like?” 

Yue Fengjian’s expression darkened. “A black rope that will shred your hand if you’re careless. Demons using their energy to fly will leave one behind them. Not the only way to track them, but the easiest.”

Lian Zhidiao’s thoughts drifted back to Zhang Hundun. So spotting him working in Shengmen City would have been difficult if he wasn’t using demonic energy, unless I’d used earth-seeing. If he hadn’t pursued me, he could have continued working in Shengmen City undetected. Who knew how many demons were still there who didn’t give chase? The realization sent a shiver down his spine at odds with the warmth of Yue Fengjian at his back.

“Cold?” 

Lian Zhidiao shook his head as he pulled his hand away from Yue Fengjian’s forearm. If anything, the proximity of their bodies was making him a little hot. Yue Fengjian’s arms were draped around him, his legs on either side of Lian Zhidiao’s, paired up like a set of spoons. He seemed quite content to be so close, enjoying a farm boy’s kind of privacy nestled in the tall, dry grass of a canal bank. 

“We should go,” Lian Zhidiao said, rocking forward and standing up. He dusted off his bottom and turned to look at Yue Fengjian, still on the ground. “We can still cover a long distance before nightfall.” 

Yue Fengjian’s scowl snapped into place on his face almost instantly. If Lian Zhidiao didn’t know better, he would have said he was pouting. But he grunted in agreement and got to his feet. 

They flew as fast as they dared, following the Black Highway. Just after sunset, they crossed a long bridge over another river, this one with heavy river traffic. A few lanterns were still lit on the boats lining up and down the banks; they bobbed slowly as a fisherman punted by. 

There were several ramshackle buildings that were piled almost on top of each other at the river crossing. Some of them had to be older than the Black Highway itself, their facades faded to a lustrous silver that glowed in the intense pink and orange sunset. The inn was in the process of barring the door when they saw Lian Zhidiao approach, and hurried him and Yue Fengjian inside. 

Having arrived so late, there wasn’t much in the way of a meal, but the innkeeper promised that in the morning, his wife would make them a breakfast like they’d never had before. With these words to fill their bellies, they retired to their room. It was modestly appointed, with two beds, a sitting area, and the finest feather mattresses to cradle them to sleep. 

The morning brought a heavy rain, and the promised palatial breakfast was even brought up to them in their room. Lian Zhidiao thought this was a little unusual, but it was appropriate for their rank and provided them a modicum of privacy. This was just fine with him, as he had an idea. 

“Take out the maps,” he said, once the dishes had been taken away. 

“What for?” 

“What else do you use maps for?” 

“Moving troops?” Yue Fengjian took out his storage ring, bemused. “Are you planning a battle in your own sect’s territory?” 

“I’ve been thinking about the demon. Wondering how many there are in human lands, how many could rise up if they were ordered to.” His lips thinned. “The presence of a Yao in that town isn’t encouraging.” 

“Your own Master is half-Yao,” Yue Fengjian responded, withdrawing the maps from the ring. 

Lian Zhidiao took the maps and unrolled them on their table. “Be that as it may, nothing prepares you for enemies on all sides like having enemies on all sides.” He looked over the map, his eyes darting until he found Yipan Town, then Ranzhao to the north of the Black Highway, and Guizai’s grotto further north than that. 

Yue Fengjian sat back, watching Lian Zhidiao pore over the maps for several minutes before speaking. “You’re scared.” 

Lian Zhidiao’s fingers paused as they followed the line of a river on the map: Caifeng, the Tailor’s River. Then he let out an inconclusive hum that was intended to neither confirm nor deny Yue Fengjian’s assertion. 

“Demons are selfish creatures,” Yue Fengjian said. “Working together goes against their nature.” 

“Even a wild animal understands fear,” Lian Zhidiao countered. “If a demon can be afraid of another demon, can’t it be made to obey? Out of fear?” 

Gentle thunder rolled over the land outside. 

“Why are you suggesting this?” 

“When I killed that demon—Zhang Hundun—he said, ‘we can continue our work’. He may have pursued me alone, but he wasn’t acting alone.” Lian Zhidiao looked back down at the map, despair creeping over him. “They are in Shengmen City, in the villages… they could be everywhere.” 

The measures Yuan Suwei had taken to root out demons in Shengmen City were starting to look less and less like paranoia.

Previous Chapter < Chapter 52: My My My How The Tables Have Turned
Next Chapter> Chapter 54: The City of Nine Reeds

They left behind the sweet grass meadow on the muddy flat, with its secret safely concealed in the storage ring in Lian Zhidiao’s robes. There was plenty of daylight left, and a great distance still to travel. They continued following the river east, then north. 

This time, Lian Zhidiao could fly without worrying about any demons breathing down his neck.  He could actually enjoy it. Though they were moving at speed, he flexed his ankles back and forth, lazily making wide sweeps to and fro behind Yue Fengjian. The freedom of having his own sword to fly around with hadn’t swept away the feeling of Yue Fengjian’s arm around him as they had soared over the landscape, but it did reveal just how close they had been when he’d ridden as a passenger on Wallbreaker.

Did I really cram onto that sword with him? How could there have been any room? The only way I could have been closer was if he’d carried me!

It was clear that Yue Fengjian didn’t treat flight as something to enjoy: he had the stern look on his face that he always did, like a factory foreman on the subway anticipating a difficult day on the job. 

But then again, he always looks like that. 

The soft look on Yue Fengjian’s face from not even a few hours prior flashed in front of his eyes. In spite of the chill wind blasting his face, his cheeks heated up. 

Well, almost always. 

Just before nightfall, they saw the Black Highway’s river crossing below them, with a large, venerable inn at the side of the road, and several long boats moored at a pier not far from it. The waning moon was already high above the horizon when they alighted on the Black Highway in front of the inn. The ends of the rafters were ornately carved, and decorated with flourishes of red and black paint. The tile roof was a dark gray that looked black in the dying light. Several small buildings were scattered around it. It was practically its own small town.  

The interior was well-appointed, especially for a roadside establishment that wouldn’t necessarily cater to an elite clientele. There were several other patrons inside, most of them dressed like merchants. The innkeeper was a thin man with bags under his eyes, who welcomed them with grace if not warmth. He paid special attention to Lian Zhidiao, offering him a hot bath immediately after dinner, and then turning to see if Yue Fengjian would like one as well. The reversal in their fortunes had Lian Zhidiao’s lips quirking in amusement. 

For once, I get to be the one treated like a prince at an inn! He could hardly hide how this improved his mood. 

They had a meal with white broth, a spicy-sour mix of peppers, some lightly pickled vegetables, and barbecued pork. There was also a delicious fish with water vegetables arranged to look like it was still swimming among the reeds, with little red pearls of chili oil skating on its back. Starving for the past few days made every plate a banquet; every bite had him smiling with pleasure. After eating what Lian Zhidiao presumed was his fill, Yue Fengjian seemed content to just drink wine and watch him stuff his mouth. He even waved away Lian Zhidiao’s attempt to offer him more fish or pork, and instead stood up when the innkeeper informed them the bath was ready. 

Lian Zhidiao took his time drinking the last of his soup and scraping the last of his rice into his mouth.Then, feeling the nicest he had in weeks, he followed the innkeeper’s direction to a room for bathing in the back half of the inn. There were some benefits to having written so many bath scenes in the original novel; many of the inns just offered baths as a matter of course.

When he arrived, there were two small lanterns placed in the room, which barely banished the shadows from the corners of it. There was no partition between the two tubs of water, owing to a lack of space for scrubbing in the smaller sitting tubs beside the larger soaking ones. Lian Zhidiao was pleased to discover that Yue Fengjian was already sitting in the soaking tub—no awkward moments of watching him get in or out!—and he could slip by without looking too closely at him. 

His own bath was steaming; he undressed as quickly as he could. The same little flower-scented orange soaps were here as well. After wetting down, he started scrubbing all the dirt off of him and out of his hair, festooning himself with suds. It had been days; he was pretty sure the last bath he’d had was under Yuan Suwei’s roof. The thought made him scrub his skin even harder until it turned pink. He didn’t stop until he was sure he’d gotten everywhere, and then rinsed himself in the small sitting tub, unable to hold back another sigh of satisfaction. 

Lowering himself into the larger tub, he groaned with delight and sank himself up to his neck. He was full of tasty food and finally clean after a few days of sleeping rough. He let his eyes flutter closed. 

Next to him, he heard Yue Fengjian shift. After a moment, he opened his eyes. 

Yue Fengjian was leaning against the side of his tub, supporting his temple on his fist. The dim lanterns still caught the water on his skin, making him almost glow in the low light. His hair was drying slowly, plastered against his shoulders. His eyes were half-lidded, but they roamed at liberty over what parts of Lian Zhidiao were visible. 

Lian Zhidiao sank a little lower in the tub. “You’re watching me so intently.” 

“Mn.” 

Thank goodness for the low light in here! After a few moments, Lian Zhidiao cleared his throat. “I got that demon’s name, by the way.” 

That made Yue Fengjian lift his head off his fist. 

“Does ‘Zhang Hundun’ mean anything to you?”

Yue Fengjian’s eyes narrowed and then he let out a breath. “No,” he said. 

Lian Zhidiao couldn’t help but feel crestfallen. “Would you recognize a specific name?” 

“I keep track of the ones we’ve killed.” Yue Fengjian lifted his hand and pushed it back over his head, collecting his hair under his palm and fluffing it a little. “Their numbers don’t feel endless if you can write down which ones are no longer a threat.” 

Lian Zhidiao’s eyes slipped under Yue Fengjian’s arm, following the trail of a drop of water down over his chest before he snapped his head back in front of him and sank even lower in the water. 

“How was your sword?” 

“Huh?” 

Yue Fengjian had sunk down in his tub as well, but he was so tall that his knees stuck out of the water. “Your sword,” he said. “What does it do?” 

“Ah.” Lian Zhidiao thought about teasing Yue Fengjian—you want to know more about the Betrayer’s sword?—but in the end, decided against it. “It calls lightning.” 

“Oh.” Yue Fengjian’s voice was soft. Maybe he didn’t expect the sword of the Emperor’s killer to be that good? “Was that how you killed him?” 

“Maybe. Probably?” Lian Zhidiao propped his feet up on the edge of the tub. “I cut off his head and took his core as well.” 

A small chuckle came from Yue Fengjian’s tub. 

“What?” 

“Striking him with lightning, cutting off his head and crushing his core? You’re very thorough.” 

“I saw you do it to Tangyi,” Lian Zhidiao said. There was no need to say that the core was still rolling around in his storage ring; he could still find some place to destroy it where it wouldn’t matter if it poisoned everything for kilometers in every direction. “Should I have done more or less?” 

“Usually cutting off the head is enough,” Yue Fengjian said. 

“I took the core because I didn’t know how many of them were following me.” 

Yue Fengjian arched an eyebrow. “Prudent.” Yue Fengjian shifted forward in the tub and then stood up. 

Lian Zhidiao kept his eyes firmly fixed on his toes at the end of his tub.

Just a few feet away, Yue Fengjian wrapped a cloth around himself, drying off with slow, thoughtful motions. “Come to think of it,” he mused aloud, “With your sword being…what it is, it might be good to teach you how to track a demon.” 

Lian Zhidiao couldn’t help but turn and look at Yue Fengjian. “Really?” The question was barely out of his mouth before his eyes caught up with everything they were seeing. All his attempts to give Yue Fengjian a little privacy—and himself a little sanity—were for naught. He saw everything. His full chest, the serratus muscles around his ribs laddering down the sides of his body, the lean planes of his abs that cut in around his hips, the girdle of Apollo that guided his eyes further down, the dusting of dark hair that trailed down between his hips… Without meaning to, Lian Zhidiao’s mouth fell open a little. The seconds passed like minutes, in which he sat in full knowledge of the magnificence of Yue Fengjian’s body. 

Mortified, he dragged his eyes up Yue Fengjian’s body to find that Yue Fengjian was looking directly at him, that same eyebrow lifted in interest. And then the corner of his mouth rose in a lopsided grin. 

“Yes,” Yue Fengjian said, continuing on with the conversation like Lian Zhidiao hadn’t just been caught admiring the art. “There’s techniques for tracking both over land and in the air. Normally, lightning is a spun spell, isn’t it?” 

“Yes,” Lian Zhidiao squeaked, his voice as small as he dearly wanted to be at that moment. 

“With the ability to call lightning while you fight, you could be a capable executioner.” Yue Fengjian sounded pleased with himself, and left the drying cloth on a small stool nearby while he put on his inner clothes. “Shipei and Kuaiyu are less adept at heavy killing, but I think you could really clear some terrain.” He sounded a little excited by the prospect. 

As expected of a great military man. 

Once Yue Fengjian had his inner clothes on, it was much less dangerous to look around the room. Spying his own drying cloth, Lian Zhidiao wrung out his hair and stood up to take his drying cloth. Attempting to keep the conversation light (and not directed at himself), Lian Zhidiao talked while he dried himself off. “It’s not as lively without them.” 

“Mn,” Yue Fengjian replied. 

With the rest of the cloth held against his body, Lian Zhidiao used one corner of it to blot his hair dry so he wouldn’t risk staining his robes. “Why don’t you travel with a retinue?” He looked over his shoulder at Yue Fengjian. 

Yue Fengjian was watching him. He had that same deceptively drowsy look as before, but in truth, he was like a lion at his repast, gobbling up the view of Lian Zhidiao’s water-slick legs and backside. 

Such a hungry look! 

And then, he met Lian Zhidiao’s eyes in a smooth rise up his body, without even bothering to look away or seem embarrassed until Lian Zhidiao turned to hide his naked flanks. Then, at last, he seemed to realize what he’d been doing, and averted his eyes. 

“I don’t see the need for a retinue,” he said, pulling on his middle clothes. “I can feed myself, wash myself, dress myself, and speak for myself without help. I don’t want to take competent people away from important work for the sake of vanity.” 

Lian Zhidiao slipped on his inner clothes as fast as he could, awkwardly holding up the drying cloth until he could at least get the lower ones on. The innkeeper knocked at the door and told them their room was on the second floor, which Yue Fengjian answered with only a grunt of acknowledgement. Yue Fengjian didn’t look at him again even after he had put on his outer clothes and hastily put up his damp hair. Without a word, he slipped out of the bathhouse.  

Did he get embarrassed by all the looking he was doing? Lian Zhidiao dressed himself thoughtfully, looking at the door. Serves him right, even if I was looking too. 

He combed out his hair and patted it dry one more time before putting it up for the night. I didn’t intend to look at him like that, but having seen that, it certainly makes some things crystal clear. 

As a writer of harem novels, he was familiar with several of the most widely-seen tropes across the genre. For the ones that dared to include any kind of lewd material, a certain amount of description was involved, and there were expectations about the harem protagonist. He would be strong, tall, and handsome. In the bedroom, he would be well-endowed, with the stamina of a bull and the sexual technique of a master of seduction. Convinced of the trope’s necessity by a vocal set of fans, Lian Zhidiao had just gone along with what everyone expected. He wrote a harem protagonist to be a paragon of masculinity and sexual prowess. He hadn’t yet seen the full reality of the situation, but from what he knew and what he had seen, there could be no doubt: Yue Fengjian was hung. 

It wasn’t supposed to be my concern! Except that now, it kind of was his concern. He began to pity the heroines he’d written, trying to handle something like that during their sexual debut. Just thinking about it made him blush to the tips of his ears at the same time that he felt an unbearably tense anticipation tighten in his stomach. 

It’s definitely a possibility that he’ll want to do something with me. Lian Zhidiao looked up at the ceiling, thinking about their room. They’d only kissed—really kissed—that day. He wasn’t ready to do anything else. 

And Yue Fengjian, given the way he’d run hot and cold today, wasn’t ready either. Lian Zhidiao tied his belt tightly shut and apprehensively mounted the stairs. Or if he wanted to, they’d regret it later. 

He stood in front of the door to their room, nervousness coiling and uncoiling in the pit of his stomach. Why was he so unsettled? Steeling himself, he opened the door and went in. Inside, there were two solidly-constructed wooden beds with black cushions, blankets, and bolsters, as well as a lantern, and a stone brazier with coals in it to keep the chill out. Yue Fengjian had picked one bed and was sitting on it, combing his hair out more thoroughly. He looked up as Lian Zhidiao came in, but closed his eyes again as he ran the comb through his hair. 

Lian Zhidiao went to the other bed and sat down on it, taking off his boots. The knot of tension in his stomach frayed and relaxed: there were two beds. 

But one bed wouldn’t have been so bad… 

The realization painted a heavy blush on his cheeks, and he silently reached up and covered his face with both hands for several long moments. 

“I take it you think I should be traveling with a retinue.” 

Lian Zhidiao talked around his hands. “It seems appropriate for your rank. But Liao Kuaiyu, Yue Yaosa and the others… they don’t seem like a retinue.”

“We’re a hunting team. It’s more important that we bring different skills that work well together.” 

He couldn’t help but think of how the ‘team’ wasn’t what it was before, with Hu Baitian and Yue Shipei in Shengmen City. “Hu Baitian was part of that team,” he said, trying to get his mind off the thought of just one bed with Yue Fengjian.

“Hu Baitian’s skills in the healing arts gave us a certain amount of autonomy. We could go on extended hunts, deep in enemy territory, without coming back for weeks.” Yue Fengjian put aside his comb, gathering his hair into a loose ponytail. “It will hurt to be without those skills, but he made his own decisions.” 

Even after all the business with the Hidden Realm and the cursed sword, he still thinks it’s okay for Hu Baitian to go and me to stay. Lian Zhidiao watched Yue Fengjian put up his hair, chewing over his words. “If he came to you with his problem about his brother, then there must have been a demon involved, right?” 

“He came to me and asked to be taught demon-hunting well before his brother disappeared.” Yue Fengjian carefully finished his ponytail, his hair as sleek as satin. “He asked for our help with his brother simply because we were friends. He’d had precious few of those, even after the Speakers cleared his name.” 

Ah. 

“He’ll be going back to learning his father’s medical techniques instead of spending time with other sects.” 

The scene in front of the Yuan palace replayed itself in his mind: the way Hu Baitian and his father dovetailed together, his father doting upon him, and Hu Baitian being relied upon for assistance in treating a very important client. They were close. Anything the elder Hu asked was something Hu Baitian would jump to accomplish. But given his father’s focus on medicine, it was unlikely that Hu Baitian’s time with the Wa and Yue sects was something his father approved of. 

It had been fine for Hu Baitian to seek a semester abroad until it looked like he had found a place for himself outside the Yuan sect. Add in the disappearance of his brother, and any father would be eager to have his son come home and participate in the family business. Learning his techniques, slowly taking over his clients. Hu Baitian’s father would be at ease. 

“Was his brother a doctor, too?” 

Yue Fengjian stood up. “I don’t know.” With one puff of air, he blew out the lantern. “But I doubt it. I always got the sense that he didn’t tell Hu Baitian what he was doing away from their sect, which is why we had so little to go on in looking for him.” 

Lian Zhidiao laid down and pulled a blanket over him, yawning. A vague memory tickled Lian Zhidiao’s brain. “Maybe like a Speaker? They travel a lot.” 

“Mn,” Yue Fengjian replied. “They do.” 

A few moments later, Yue Fengjian tucked his feet into bed. Lian Zhidiao heard Yue Fengjian stretch his body out the full length of the bed, and then roll over, facing away from him. After a few moments, Lian Zhidiao heard his breathing start to deepen.

He really can just lie down and fall right asleep in the middle of a conversation! Lian Zhidiao turned away from Yue Fengjian as well, letting out a small sigh. It’s for the best. He can tell when something is a bad idea. Restraining ourselves is the right choice. 

But their earlier roll in the grass on the riverbank had done much to strip away the careful barriers he’d constructed to blind himself to Yue Fengjian’s desire. He couldn’t ignore that, or the answering desire in his own heart. 

It kept him awake long after Yue Fengjian had nodded off. 

Previous Chapter < Chapter 51: What’s In The Box
Next Chapter > Chapter 53: The Inn On The River

After the night that Lian Zhidiao had gone through, lying in the warm, sweet grass with Yue Fengjian was Paradise. Yue Fengjian’s arms curled around his back like his hands were trying to push up the hem of his robe, or to pull it apart. Lian Zhidiao rested fully against him, rising and falling with every eager breath Yue Fengjian took. His palms lay on Yue Fengjian’s chest, with Yue Fengjian’s thigh sliding up to part his knees. His inner robe wasn’t tied shut—not really—and Yue Fengjian’s hands scorched through it anyway. Just being held by him lit up Lian Zhidiao’s skin like fireworks. 

Every kiss that ended was followed by Yue Fengjian lingering in his space, their lips just a hair’s breadth apart, as if he was weighing the price of kissing him again. Dazed by their embrace, Lian Zhidiao had no room to object as Yue Fengjian claimed his mouth with a deep kiss that made his toes curl. Lian Zhidiao sighed against him. It was a bad idea, and Yue Fengjian had to know it too. 

But his kisses were intoxicating, and Lian Zhidiao held on to Yue Fengjian’s neck even as he shifted and rolled him over. Lian Zhidiao held his breath at the delicious weight of Yue Fengjian settling on top of him. 

Is he going to do ‘something’ to me? Or with me? Here, in broad daylight on a riverbank in the middle of nowhere? The thought of something like ‘that’ happening made him shiver in anticipation. Lian Zhidiao could hardly put his wits back in order before Yue Fengjian pressed their foreheads together. This time, Yue Fengjian kissed him slowly, his hand at Lian Zhidiao’s jaw, the gentle pressure of his fingers enough to hold him still. Lian Zhidiao was caught by his touch, the whole of their embrace seeming to balance on his fingertips, until Yue Fengjian reluctantly ended the kiss. 

This shouldn’t be happening. I don’t want to stop him, but I should. This will ruin his chances in the Final Battle, leave him too weak to destroy the enemy that awaited them. Heavy-lidded, Lian Zhidiao eyes roamed down Yue Fengjian’s neckline, below the edge of his collar. If he doesn’t get the support of the sects, he won’t have enough men to face the demon hordes. Reluctantly, he placed a kiss at the corner of Yue Fengjian’s mouth, and let his head fall back into the grass. Even so, I’m glad he’s here. 

“How did you find me?” 

Yue Fengjian’s voice was hoarse. “I left as soon as I knew you were being pursued, picked up the trail of a demon not long after that,” he replied. “It wasn’t hard to work out who he was tracking. But he was being careful.” He paused, gathering his thoughts, brow furrowing as he looked at Lian Zhidiao underneath him. “He was nearly a day ahead of me.” With Lian Zhidiao’s life on the line, he’d been flying as fast as he could, all the time fearing he would be too late.

“How many were there?”

“Just one,” Yue Fengjian replied. “I lost his trail some distance back.” He searched Lian Zhidiao’s face, and then reached up and tucked one of the loose locks of Lian Zhidiao’s hair back behind his ear. “I feared the worst. But you’re safe.” 

Lian Zhidiao could hear the relief in Yue Fengjian’s voice, gusting out of him like a sigh he hardly dared to let go. His heart felt like it was going to burst. “You were worried he’d kill me.” 

The stern set of Yue Fengjian’s eyebrows softened. “Many months without a sword would have dulled your martial senses.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed tightness in his throat. 

“I flew out just fine,” Lian Zhidiao replied, feeling a little smug. “The demon wasn’t too much of a problem either.” The body of a prodigy certainly had its benefits. 

A guarded look slowly came over Yue Fengjian’s face. “It takes weeks to get used to a spiritual weapon.”

“I didn’t have weeks.” I barely had minutes before I was fleeing for my life. 

“Was…” Yue Fengjian hesitated. “Your spiritual weapon. It’s not Fengxueya, is it?” 

Lian Zhidiao grimaced. Did that demon just yell everything out to anyone within earshot?! Vigilant, Yue Fengjian’s eyes never left his face, Lian Zhidiao’s obvious discomfort absolutely excruciating. Yue Fengjian wanted to hear Lian Zhidiao deny it, to triumphantly announce that he’d gotten his sword back, that it was all a mistake. He could lie, but the truth of it was only ten feet away, bared to Yue Fengjian’s gaze. 

Lian Zhidiao let out a small, defeated puff of air. “It’s not Fengxueya anymore.” 

A hard edge entered Yue Fengjian’s voice. “So the rumors are true?” 

Lian Zhidiao swallowed a lump in his throat. “I don’t know what rumors you heard, so I don’t know if they’re true or not.” 

“That the sword that killed the Emperor has chosen a new master. The sword of the Betrayer is back, in the hands of a Wa cultivator—” Yue Fengjian cut himself short, as if there were other, less savory things that he’d heard. The stern look settled back on Yue Fengjian’s brow as his expression darkened. “The entire district around the Sacred Gate was in chaos.”  

“…It’s true.” Lian Zhidiao said, his ardor wilting. 

“I told you not to take long. I didn’t mean you should grab the first cursed sword you saw and dash right out again,” Yue Fengjian grumbled, easing his weight off of Lian Zhidiao. 

“I didn’t know how long it was going to take,” Lian Zhidiao protested, already missing the warmth of Yue Fengjian’s body, already wishing for that weight on top of him again in spite of himself. “And it’s not cursed.” 

“Most people take three or four days, not a day and a half.” Yue Fengjian stood up and picked up Wallbreaker from where it lay next to them in the grass. “And it is cursed.” 

“It…” Lian Zhidiao got to his feet and picked Shanzhen up. His tone was insistent. “It doesn’t feel cursed, not to me.” 

Yue Fengjian rubbed one of his temples. “You can’t keep it.” 

After all I went through to get it?!

“It’s my spiritual weapon, not a lost kitten,” Lian Zhidiao snapped. “And it can’t be returned until I’m dead, anyway.”  

Exasperated, Yue Fengjian put one hand on his hip. “Why? Why this sword? Why not any of the others?” 

Lian Zhidiao was brought up short by the question, and all the emotions that had flooded him when he picked up Shanzhen surged forth again. It’s not a simple answer…

“Does the sword of a traitor resonate with you?” Yue Fengjian’s voice was the sharpest Lian Zhidiao had ever heard it. “Does it speak to you?” 

“Did yours?” 

“What?” 

“When you got your spiritual weapon, did yours speak to you?” Lian Zhidiao fingers tightened around Shanzhen’s scabbard as he looked up into Yue Fengjian’s face. 

“It…” Yue Fengjian glanced down at Wallbreaker in his hand, and then shook his head. “No, it was silent.” 

“But there were others, right? Other swords you touched, and they had a feeling about them? Or maybe they even said something?” 

“You’re not supposed to touch all the swords, only your own!” 

Lian Zhidiao blinked. Is he actually angry at me? “…What do you think the sword of a betrayer would feel like?” 

“There’s nothing to feel or experience. It may be the most important tool you have, but it’s still just a tool.” Yue Fengjian’s expression was beleaguered. 

“It wasn’t like that in the Hidden Realm. Several of the swords… communicated with me. I waited until I felt one that was clearly for me.” 

“You’re supposed to do that in the first place,” Yue Fengjian scolded him. “Not walk around and touch everything like you’re looking to loot the place.” 

Lian Zhidiao “I was only able to take this one; the other swords refused my hand.”

“And it was the sword that killed the White Emperor.” 

Lian Zhidiao hesitated, and then looked down at Shanzhen’s black scabbard, the silver clouds rolling over the hilt. “I…know that is what is said or recorded about it. But I don’t know if I believe it.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yue Fengjian shaking his head, but he continued. “When I accepted the sword—or it accepted me—it was filled with devotion and duty.” He didn’t mention the love and yearning in the blade. Things were bad enough without Yue Fengjian realizing the love—not the traitorous murder—was the part that resonated with him. 

Yue Fengjian’s expression swung between anguish and derision. Lian Zhidiao’s heart twisted to see him struggling. He clearly didn’t want to even think about its loathsome history. Maybe he felt a little pity for Lian Zhidiao being the one to carry such a woe-stained weapon.  “What were you doing here, anyway?” he said in a muted tone. His eyes flitted over Lian Zhidiao dressed only in his inner clothes, as if the thought just occurred to him. “And in such disarray.” 

So he’s going to let it lie… Lian Zhidiao gladly accepted the change in subject. It was better than continuing to argue over something that couldn’t be changed. “Do you remember the memory in the jade slip?” 

“The one we left with Uncle.” Yue Fengjian nodded, his eyes narrowing. 

“Do you remember how he hid little bundles under a tree and in a box?” Lian Zhidiao fiddled with the closure of his inner robe, preparing to take it off again. 

“You think that’s here?” 

“There was a stump further upstream, with that same strange hollow in it.” 

“And?”

“There wasn’t anything there, but… I don’t think they were that important.” Lian Zhidiao pulled his inner robe off and started to pull a few fistfuls of grass up to make a pathway over the muddy flat. “Remember, ‘one more for A-Feng, the most important one’. I think he was trying to confuse whoever—whatever was following him.” 

Yue Fengjian mulled this over in silence, his arms folded over his chest. “…You really think the box is still down there?” 

Lian Zhidiao shrugged one shoulder. “I won’t know until I look.” He laid down the grass in a small raft over the mud, and then gave the cold, black river a resigned look. I really didn’t want to before, but maybe a dunk in a lot of freezing cold water would help me clear my head of those kisses. He gathered his fists to get up his determinination, and turned and looked over his bare shoulder at Yue Fengjian, who was giving the river an equally dubious look. “If you’d turn around, please.” 

Yue Fengjian bristled and then turned around to look up the bank.

With this gesture as his only shred of modesty, Lian Zhidiao skinnied out of his inner clothes, leaving them on the nearest tuft of grass, and picked his way down the grass bridge until he could dip a toe in the water. 

COLD! How the hell did he swim in this? But he couldn’t stop now, not with his suspicions about what might be waiting at the bottom. Maybe going in all at once is the best way, just rip the bandage off. He jumped forward till he was immersed up to his waist, and could not help but let out a whimpering yelp. 

“Are you okay?”

“I’m… fine,” Lian Zhidiao chattered, calming his breathing. It felt like his balls were trying to climb up inside his skull to get away from the river. “It’s really cold.” 

“I remember,” Yue Fengjian said, half-turning in place. 

“Stay facing that way,” Lian Zhidiao said through his clenched teeth.

Yue Fengjian turned back toward the bank. 

No reason to drag this out. Just get it over with as soon as possible. 

Carefully regulating his breathing, he strode down the river bank until he was up to his neck. When he was sure his cold-shocked body wouldn’t inadvertently gasp in the cold river water, he took a deep breath and plunged beneath the surface. 

The frigid water was fast-moving; he had to swim strongly to even stay in one place. Every time he peeled his eyes open even a little, the current threatened to tear his eyelids open. Swimming upstream and then turning himself underwater to protect his eyes from the current, he scanned the river bottom. Everything was blurry, and he was moving so much that it was hard to see any of the shapes at the bottom. 

Then, on his second pass over the river bottom, he saw a funny little pile of stones. 

Kicking his feet, he swam down to them, closing his eyes as much as he could. With one hand, he held on to a large flat stone jammed into the riverbed. With the other, he removed the stones one-by-one. When he was down to the last one, he groped his fingers into a crevice between the rocks and felt the hard, square edge of a box. 

He held down the box with one hand to keep it from floating away, and then shuffled the last rock aside with his feet. The box came loose from a coffin of sand, which had slowly filled in the cracks in the cairn, cementing its contents in place. With his prize in hand, Lian Zhidiao pushed up off the riverbed and kicked his feet toward shore. 

He broke the surface with a great gasp, looking toward the shore. Yue Fengjian was searching the river surface with his characteristic stern expression. 

After I told him not to look! 

Lian Zhidiao’s feet found the sandy part of the river bottom close to the muddy bank, and he crouched in the river, meeting Yue Fengjian’s judgemental gaze. 

“Are you waiting for me to freeze to death in this river? Or will you turn around?” 

Exasperated, Yue Fengjian chose the latter. 

Lian Zhidiao stood up out of the water, slinging his wet hair out of his face. 

“You were underwater for a long time,” Yue Fengjian called over his shoulder.

“It’s hard to see underwater.” He glanced at Yue Fengjian’s broad back, and thought for a moment about asking him to help comb his hair out. A few seconds of imagining Yue Fengjian’s fingers threading through his hair, and he was grateful that his body was still nearly frozen. 

“Did you find it?”

Lian Zhidiao looked down at the fatwood box in his hands. It was darkened with age, but water still beaded up at some places, so it may still have had some effect at conservation of the contents. “Yes.” Lian Zhidiao picked up his inner clothes, walking up the grass raft to keep his feet from being muddy. Once he was behind Yue Fengjian, he reached around him and offered him the box. “Hold it while I get dressed.” 

At Lian Zhidiao’s voice so close to him, Yue Fengjian stiffened, but he gently—almost reverently—took the fatwood box from Lian Zhidiao’s ice cold fingers. 

Getting dressed was a bit more difficult than he thought it would be; his clothes stuck to his still-wet skin. Annoyed, he blew a little qi out of his body, getting everything just dry enough that he could stand to put his clothes back on. Each layer was sun-warmed and dry, so he was positively toasty by the time he was tying his spindle-weight back around his body.

Yue Fengjian stopped averting his eyes once Lian Zhidiao was more modestly attired. He had the unflappable confidence of someone who felt he won the substance of an argument, even though the argument was far from decided. With nothing left for Lian Zhidiao to do, he walked forward and offered the small wooden box.

Faltering for a moment, Lian Zhidiao could hardly help but be reminded of a man offering a ring.

But looking at Yue Fengjian, it was clear he thought nothing of offering the box this way. The similarity to a modern romantic proposal for marriage existed only in Lian Zhidiao’s own mind, a product of wishful thinking. Pushing the frivolous thought away, he accepted the box with both hands. 

I hope there’s something inside here, for all the trouble it was to get it. 

He sat down in the grass. Yue Fengjian took that as an invitation and sat down next to him, so close their arms were almost touching. “Open it.” 

Fighting down the butterflies that fluttered in his stomach at Yue Fengjian saying that in his deep voice, Lian Zhidiao pushed at the lid of the fatwood box. Still impregnated with fat, the top slid aside easily. 

Inside, there was a wad of black silk. 

Lian Zhidiao’s heart started to race. He looked up at Yue Fengjian. 

Yue Fengjian leaned in even closer. 

Swallowing down his nervousness, Lian Zhidiao pulled out the bundle. Amazingly, the box had worked so well to protect it that the silk was still dry. Lian Zhidiao gingerly pulled the black silk apart, and the white-and-gold fabric came into view, stained dark brown with dried blood. The white-and-gold was a heavy brocade, with dragons grasping branches of peach blossoms in five claws. 

With trembling fingers, Lian Zhidiao pushed open the blood-stained brocade. 

Nestled inside was a small carving of a dragon about as long as his palm, made from magnificently pure, translucent green jade. 

Yue Fengjian was speechless, only able to let out a small breath. 

This can only be something of the White Emperor’s. Lian Zhidiao touched the small carving; it was so delicate and beautiful he worried that even touching it might damage it. 

“The man in the memory…” Even with his arm torn off, surely bleeding to death, he had risked everything to hide this jade figurine, a priceless piece of art with unknown personal meaning to Shanyin, the White Emperor. A Wa sect member close enough to the White Emperor to take his valued possession, wrapped in a scrap of silk brocade stained in his blood… “Doesn’t this mean he is Jiang Huolu?” 

“It doesn’t seem that he could be anyone else.” 

“‘They’re coming, they’ll find it,’” Lian Zhidiao quoted. “‘Have to hide it for A-Feng.’” 

“I know,” Yue Fengjian said. He sounded shaken. 

“Whatever this is,” Lian Zhidiao said, wrapping the silk back over the bundle, “he hid it at the cost of his own life.” 

“It doesn’t make any sense.” 

“No.” Lian Zhidiao said. Feeling like the dragon carving needed to be protected just as Jiang Huolu had protected it, Lian Zhidiao put it back in the fatwood box and then dropped it in his storage ring. “It doesn’t seem like the actions of a betrayer.”

“It’s too convenient for a Wa sect member to discover that his sect’s greatest shame may not be what it seems.” Yue Fengjian’s eyes lifted to meet Lian Zhidiao’s; he was measured and slow, laying out the evidence behind his suspicions. “Especially if he carries the sword that is the source of that shame.” 

There was still the note of accusation in his voice, as if Lian Zhidiao had any control over which sword he’d gotten. A pang of sadness rang in Lian Zhidiao’s heart. 

Yue Fengjian gave him an appraising look, and spoke slowly. “You have this memory of the betrayer that no one else recognizes. You were not able to use your spiritual weapon, only to have the Hidden Realm award you the sword of the Emperor’s murderer?” Yue Fengjian shook his head.

“You don’t trust me?”  

Yue Fengjian was silent. 

Lian Zhidiao’s stomach dropped like a stone. After all he’d done to be useful, after they’d spent so much time together, after they’d given in to something raw and passionate that had them clinging to each other in a riverside meadow? He was still so quick to suspect him? Lian Zhidiao folded his hands in his lap, considering his words carefully before he spoke up.  

“When I was in the Yue family castle, when I was at the Quanyuan with so much deviate qi in my other core that I could have poisoned the earth for generations, I didn’t. When your lands were threatened by the qilin, and the choice was between letting you be cursed or doing what needed to be done, I did what needed to be done.” He held back a sudden stinging in his eyes with an iron will. “Can you trust that?”  

Yue Fengjian was silent for a long time, all but caressing Lian Zhidiao’s face with his eyes. There was a conflict between suspicion and sorrow in his face, a back-and-forth that was rootless, writhing inside him. Then, with a short breath, he broke their eye contact and turned away from him. “For now.” 

END OF SHENGMEN CITY ARC

NEXT ARC: WA-GUIZAI

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