Golden light surged like a blade. When Shen Yunjin opened his eyes again, Wen Yuzhu had vanished, leaving him alone inside the Yellow Millet Scroll.
The world peeled away its desolate, snowy hue, inch by inch, until he found himself back in a vibrant, spring-filled field. This was the brief spring that the “Never-Ending Cold” saw for barely more than thirty days a year. Farmers and village women, their heads wrapped in sweat-stained towels, bent to sow seeds. Under the dappled light and shadow cast by pruned branches, mules lay on the ground, dozing off with low spirits.
This seemed to be a dream.
Shen Yunjin wandered the path through the fields in a daze, occasionally catching the inquisitive gazes of farmers leading mules and carrying baskets of greens. Suddenly, the rapid, thunderous sound of hooves thundered behind him. The fierce wind kicked up by the horses tangled his hair ribbon, leaving his dark hair to fall over one side of his face.
The heavy neighing of horses sounded right beside his ears, yet he remained standing there in a daze. Suddenly, a streak of pale green light slashed horizontally, striking Shen Yunjin mid-torso with moderate force. The spiritual energy sent him toppling to the side, where he landed face-first in the mud, his mouth filled with the raw, earthy taste of dirt.
Shen Yunjin gritted his teeth and stood up, just as the horses brushed past him. A rough-looking man sat atop the steed, showing no hint of apology as he rode off into the distance. Strapped to his back was a black cloth-wrapped iron chest; no one knew what was inside.
Only then did Shen Yunjin realize that the object that had struck him was the Yunyin Flute. The flute was wrapped in a pale, ethereal glow before falling into Xie Weiyuan’s hand.
“Are you an idiot? Didn’t you know to dodge?” Xie Weiyuan stood facing the wind, one hand behind his back, his expression impatient. The Yunyin Flute returned to his waist, its glow fading back to its ordinary appearance.
“Master… why did you follow me in?” His Adam’s apple bobbed, his gaze landing on Xie Weiyuan’s slightly rumpled sleeves.
Xie Weiyuan coughed twice and replied sternly: “A human furnace with your constitution is hard to find; it would be a pity if you were lost.” He felt awkward saying it, who would go through fire and water every day for a mere human furnace? “Enough. Follow me; we must first find a way out of this Yellow Millet Scroll.”
Shen Yunjin lowered his eyes, noncommittal.
The two followed the path, and before long, they reached a bustling small town. The streets were filled with vendors shouting their wares: roasted chestnuts with the charred, sweet aroma of sugar, sesame-scented flatbreads, and deep-fried dough sticks.
Spring was enticing, and the sight and smell of food even more so. The mingling scents of fried, roasted, and braised dishes caused Shen Yunjin’s stomach to let out a shameful growl. Xie Weiyuan shot him a cold glance before stopping in front of an inn. “The day is late; let’s go in and stay the night.”
As soon as they entered, the waiter at the black-wood counter threw his sweat towel over his shoulder: “Two guests, what will you have?”
Xie Weiyuan looked at the list of dishes and pondered for a moment: “Bring us a plate of Mapo tofu, stir-fried water spinach, two bowls of beef soup, and replace the tea with plain water.”
The inn was crowded, and the waiter was kept busy, dashing into the back room after a quick “Coming right up!” A storyteller sat on a low wooden platform, regaling the crowd with old tales from Feng’an City in the “Never-Ending Cold.” As soon as they sat down, they heard a familiar name. The storyteller brought his gavel down heavily:
“Listen well, dear guests—”
“This Miss Wen, Wen Yuzhu, was born a noblewoman of the highest order. Her ancestors were officials of three generations; even the current Prime Minister would have to address her grandfather as ‘Uncle’.”
The storyteller spoke with great animation, then snapped his folding fan open with a swish.
“And yet, this young lady loved the art of dance above all else. At seven, she could dance on the palms of hands; at fourteen, she became the star of ‘Heaven on Earth.’ Countless young princes and royals would throw away thousands of gold pieces just to catch a smile.”
“And guess what happened? Miss Wen cared nothing for gold or jade, but took a fancy to that sickly weakling of the Shen family a young master who coughed blood every five steps, clearly a short-lived ghost…”
Shen Yunjin listened to the rumors, thoughtful. Xie Weiyuan picked up his porcelain cup: “This Yellow Millet Scroll can actually trace memories and manifest them as reality.”
“Everything we are experiencing now is an illusion. Do not use your spiritual techniques casually, or you will suffer the backlash.”
The people around them were engrossed in the storyteller’s tall tales, each with their own unique expressions and movements. This Yellow Millet Scroll was capable of creating dreams complete down to the smallest detail.
“Why?”
“The Yellow Millet Scroll lives by consuming a person’s consciousness. It weaves dreams but does not allow one to create their own.”
Xie Weiyuan was about to continue when a sudden round of applause and cheering erupted beside them. “Wow!” “Well done! Bring her out!”
The two looked up and saw a graceful female silhouette behind a red-plum screen. The story was told vividly, and combined with a dance from a beauty it was truly a great business strategy. The innkeeper was a master of commerce. The woman, wearing a light veil, swayed out from behind the screen, her eyes filled with infinite allure, appearing even more charming than the red plums on the screen. She tiptoed lightly, her water-sleeves fluttering as she danced.
While this dancer lacked the innate natural grace of Wen Yuzhu, the crowd below was still captivated. It was easy to imagine that if the real Wen Yuzhu were here, she would have trampled the inn’s threshold flat.
As the music faded and twilight approached, Xie Weiyuan felt a bit weary. He wanted to call the waiter to settle the bill, but as his fingertips probed his money pouch…
…Oh no.
He had followed Shen Yunjin into the Yellow Millet Scroll in such a rush that he hadn’t brought any money.
“Do you have any silver on you?” Xie Weiyuan asked in a low voice.
“No,” Shen Yunjin replied bluntly and righteously.
Xie Weiyuan felt a rare sense of embarrassment, his earlobes turning red as he acted with feigned reserve: “Go tell the boss we will settle the bill later.” He paused and added: “Tell him… we will pay double next time.” He wasn’t even ashamed to say it what ‘next time’ could there be in a dream but Xie Weiyuan said it without batting an eye.
A quarter of an hour later, the negotiations had failed as expected. The innkeeper, bristling with rage, marched over to Xie Weiyuan with several burly men.
“You’re his master, right?”
“An educator of men, yet you bring your disciple here to eat for free? Have you not heard who covers this inn? Are you looking for a beating?”
Xie Weiyuan knew he was in the wrong; instead of getting angry, he bowed politely: “Innkeeper, please forgive us. We are truly sorry; it was an emergency, and neither of us brought money. Perhaps… we could offer something as collateral?”
The two looked at the innkeeper with pitiful expressions. The innkeeper frowned: “What are you offering?”
Xie Weiyuan regretted deeply that he hadn’t inherited the original body’s flamboyant tastes; he was currently so plain he couldn’t even produce anything valuable.
“Forget it, forget it. Just give me something to hold as collateral.”
Shen Yunjin, needless to say, looked like he couldn’t even produce ten coins’ worth of assets. Xie Weiyuan had no choice but to take off the Yunyin Flute, handing it to the innkeeper with a heart-wrenching pang. The innkeeper’s expression finally improved, and he tossed them a key.
“Why is there only one key?”
“We are busy these days; we don’t have enough rooms. It’s enough for two grown men to stay in one.”
“Wait—” Xie Weiyuan wanted to say more, but the innkeeper had already led the burly men away.
Xie Weiyuan took the key and led Shen Yunjin to the second floor. The room smelled dark, dank, and musty, as if it hadn’t been inhabited for a long time. He lit a candle and opened the window; the night wind rushed into the room, carrying a chill that dispersed the heavy mustiness.
Then came the question of bedding distribution. Xie Weiyuan coughed twice before he could speak, and Shen Yunjin, being very sensible, began laying out a pallet on the floor with his bedding. Seeing him so understanding, Xie Weiyuan felt a bit guilty, but he truly couldn’t bring himself to ask Shen Yunjin to sleep on the bed. It wasn’t about being finicky about two men sharing a bed, it was just that Shen Yunjin was… a little special.
This person might strangle me to death if he wakes up in the middle of the night.
After much hesitation, considering his personal safety, he took off his shoes and robes and lay down on the inner side of the bed.
The night was deep, and the “Never-Ending Cold” was freezing. The howling night wind beat against the wooden windows, making them creak, creak. Xie Weiyuan huddled tightly against the very edge of the bed. He stared at the ceiling, thinking that if Shen Yunjin woke up shivering from the cold, he would begrudgingly allow him onto the bed.
It’s just sleeping, after all.
The words “come up and sleep” were stuck in his throat like a budding sprout, only to be forcibly suppressed by Xie Weiyuan in the end. He pondered whether he should secretly add a quilt for Shen Yunjin.
…No.
Xie Weiyuan quickly pushed that disgusting thought to the back of his mind. A grown man tucking in another man? What kind of sense did that make?
Only a gay man would do such a thing!
He waited and waited, but nothing happened, only the sound of Shen Yunjin’s rhythmic breathing coming from beneath the bed. It seemed Shen Yunjin had fallen asleep, so Xie Weiyuan finally let his guard down and drifted off to sleep himself.
In the darkness, Shen Yunjin snapped his eyes open. His dark pupils were terrifyingly bright. He propped himself up and looked at Xie Weiyuan, who was huddled in the corner of the bed like a little cat.
The dim moonlight spilled onto his face through the window lattices; his raven-like eyelashes cast delicate, fragmented shadows on his fair face, like butterflies fluttering gently.
It had to be said that Xie Weiyuan was born with a good face. Those peach-blossom eyes were sharp and fearsome when awake, but softer and more moist when closed, with the corners of his eyes slightly upturned in a curve like spring-water peach blossoms. It was enough to make one feel intoxicated.
Further down were a sharp, tall nose, thin, chiseled lips, and a sharp jawline. Apart from those amorous peach-blossom eyes, his appearance was genuinely full of aggression; usually, his cold face alone was enough to chill one’s back and make one want to kneel and beg for mercy immediately.
His breathing grew heavier.
Xie Weiyuan—
The darkness at the bottom of Shen Yunjin’s heart quietly sprouted. He thought, with a sense of gloom, Does this aloof Lord Linghua also have a look of fear?
…
He had never seen any extra emotions from Xie Weiyuan; the man was always detached, icy, viewing all living things like ants. His gaze darkened, and a strange emotion sprouted in his heart. After watching for a long time, Shen Yunjin grew disgusted with this inexplicable emotion. He turned over, no longer looking at the man’s face.
Early the next morning, the sun was bright. Shen Yunjin woke up in a daze, only to feel that the surface beneath him was soft and comfortable. Still drowsy, he reached out and touched it.
He was actually lying on the bed!
He turned around, and Xie Weiyuan was sleeping right beside him!
There was nothing in the world more disgusting than waking up to find someone you hated sleeping next to you. Alarm bells rang in Shen Yunjin’s heart; he hurriedly scrambled out of bed. Xie Weiyuan was awakened by his movement and rubbed his sleepy eyes.
“What time is it?”
“Why am I on the bed?”