Chapter 13

“Don’t need it?” Yin Wuji stared at the Shadow Guard before him, asking expressionlessly.

“Yes.” Shadow Twelve gritted his teeth. “This Subordinate doesn’t need it.”

Dropping the book, Yin Wuji made his move, fingertips heading straight for the Shadow Guard’s eyes. Shadow Twelve held out as long as he could, but finally blinked, and the slender fingers came to rest beneath the Shadow Guard’s eye.

There was a pale little mole there. Yin Wuji rubbed it, his meaning unreadable.

Eyelashes trembling uneasily. Frightened? Yin Wuji gave a soft scoff. “I’ll give you one more chance to tell the truth.”

Shadow Twelve couldn’t help wondering what would happen if he lied. The Master wasn’t holding his lifeline; behind the punishment lay nothing more than the loss of a pair of eyes.

Then what answer, exactly, did the Master want?

The Shadow Guard’s face, so rarely seeing sunlight, was exceptionally fair, and his eyes were beautiful—whenever he looked at someone, or at him, they always shone. But Shadow Twelve was rigid and didn’t know his place; such merits counted for nothing on him.

Dull. Unappealing. Then how had things developed from disgust at a single touch to… this?

Unable to work it out, Yin Wuji moved his fingers and ground hard over that pale little mole.

Held in Yin Wuji’s grip, the Shadow Guard could only keep his head tilted up. Shadow Twelve said, somewhat dazed, “Master……”

The skin beneath his eye was a little red, much like the glistening, water-bright look of a man holding back tears in Shadow Nine’s room.

The Shadow Guard’s eyes really were beautiful.

His hand slid down, gripping the Shadow Guard’s jaw, applying some wicked force. Yin Wuji asked, half-smiling, “Still haven’t thought of your answer?”

He knew the Shadow Guard was sensitive; the red marks were already flickering in and out of view. He was doing it on purpose. Yin Wuji offered his “kind” reminder: “Lying to the Manor Master is covered under the Shadow Guard Code.”

Those who violated the Shadow Guard Code could, in serious cases, be expelled from Listening Crane Manor outright.

Yin Wuji’s threat was barely veiled. Haze cleared from the Shadow Guard’s eyes, replaced by panic. Shadow Twelve said urgently, “This Subordinate needs it.”

He continued, “Needs… your… com…fort.”

Every syllable landed precisely in Yin Wuji’s ears. It had only been about sharing a bed—but from the Shadow Guard’s mouth, the meaning transformed entirely.

In the ambiguous atmosphere, the candlelight swayed. Yin Wuji’s gaze fixed on the Shadow Guard’s exposed collarbone, white enough to gleam.

Only an instant—but the Shadow Guard still caught it.

Shadow Twelve had no attention to spare for anything else. Reaching one hand toward his waist sash, he asked, “Does the Master want it? This Subordinate can……”

Yin Wuji pressed down on Shadow Twelve’s hand in displeasure and said coldly, “Fantasizing again?”

The sentence fell on Shadow Twelve like a basin of cold water, head to toe.

Shadow Twelve’s fingers curled, his face full of humiliation. He forced out, “This Subordinate understands.”

He had bitten his tongue; the taste of rust finally brought Shadow Twelve back to his senses. Only this way could he climb out of the Master’s sweet trap.

Don’t fantasize. The phrase he’d recited to himself over and over these past days had been cast to the winds.

But if the Master didn’t allow him to fantasize, then… what would become of the child?

Yin Wuji stood up from the bed and, looking up, found the Shadow Guard absently stroking his belly. He asked, “Can’t walk?”

If he couldn’t walk, Yin Wuji would have someone bring the Shadow Guard’s meals in.

But in Shadow Twelve’s ears, it took on an entirely different meaning.

However else things stood, he was still the Master’s Shadow Guard, and the Master had no use for useless Shadow Guards at his side.

Shadow Twelve got off the bed neatly. His steps were unsteady, but he managed to steady himself. He said with resolve, “Master, this Subordinate can.”

In that instant, the fragile Shadow Guard flashed the sharpness of his former self—faint, gone in a blink.

Yin Wuji nodded and walked a few steps forward, only to find the Shadow Guard still rooted in place, apparently searching for something.

He paused. The Shadow Guard mumbled, “Master, this Subordinate’s outer robe… can’t be found.”

The image of that eyesore Shadow Guard uniform flashed past. Yin Wuji said, “Threw it out.”

The Shadow Guard froze. “Threw it out?”

Why on earth discard a perfectly wearable garment?

Reading the Shadow Guard’s reaction as reluctance to part with it, Yin Wuji went further. “Burned it. It’s a pile of ash by now.”

Shadow Twelve understood even less. He opened his mouth and asked, “Why burn it?”

Why?

Was he supposed to say it was because it caught his eye?

Yin Wuji didn’t answer, only said, “I’ll have the Steward send you new clothes.”

While waiting for the new clothes, Shadow Twelve was on tenterhooks. Why would the Master burn his Shadow Guard uniform?

Every Shadow Guard had his own dedicated uniform. Now his had been burned—was the Master trying to tell him he could never be a Shadow Guard again?

He had long known this would be the outcome, but when the fact actually crashed down, Shadow Twelve found it hard to accept.

Apart from being a Shadow Guard, following the Master, staying in Listening Crane Manor—Shadow Twelve didn’t know what else he could do.

The world beyond the Manor was vast, full of unrestrained jianghu wanderers. But for all the world’s breadth, apart from the Master’s side, he had nowhere to rest.

Shadow Twelve’s spirits sank, his heart pulled taut, and his stomach began acting up too. By the time the Steward delivered the clothes, his face was deathly pale.

The Physician was hauled over yet again, terrified half to death by all the roof-leaping and wall-scaling.

A few more trips like this, and his own life would probably be forfeit in Rose Garden.

Walking into the room on trembling legs, he found Yin Wuji and the Steward both at the bedside. The Shadow Guard, just as in the daytime, had sunk into unconsciousness.

After taking the pulse, the Physician told Yin Wuji tremulously, “Nausea and fright again. He must be carefully nursed.”

Yin Wuji decided this Physician was rather unreliable. He snorted coldly and asked in an icy voice, “Nauseated by me again?”

“…Not exactly. It’s only that Lord Shadow Guard’s emotional state is of the utmost importance. Please, Manor Master, refrain from upsetting him further.”

Yin Wuji had done nothing at all. Remembering that icy “fantasizing,” he looked irritably at the Shadow Guard lying on the bed. The abdominal pain had soaked the Shadow Guard’s hair through with sweat, clinging messily to his face.

Changing the Shadow Guard’s clothes personally—Yin Wuji was unwilling. Going out to fetch someone to change them—he was also unwilling.

In the end, Yin Wuji did it himself, stripping off the Shadow Guard’s clothes.

The Shadow Guard’s body bore plenty of old wounds—blade cuts, arrow wounds, whip scars… a whole assortment. Staring at them, Yin Wuji’s eyes flickered.

Tossing aside the sweat-damp undergarment, Yin Wuji pulled a fresh one onto the Shadow Guard.

As he tied the sash, Yin Wuji’s hand drifted lightly over the Shadow Guard’s slightly rounded belly. All around it the muscle was hard as stone; only here was it unbelievably soft… stranger and stranger.

Tucking the Shadow Guard back under the covers, that discarded undergarment caught his eye. Yin Wuji was about to call someone in to tidy up when he suddenly worked out the thread of it.

Yin Wuji ground his teeth. That Shadow Guard uniform that matched Shadow Nine so well—was it really that important?