Chapter 30: A Way to Have Both

With Yan Su helping him, Lin Zhuoyu’s odds improved considerably.

Wei Qingxiao would tell Daoist Lord Tongxu about the matter of the Origin Core, and judging by what Lin Zhuoyu knew of his Shizun, the man would likely cut Lu Qi down on the spot, neat and decisive, to eliminate future trouble.

For now, the priority was keeping Shizun calm.

After bidding farewell to Yan Su, Lin Zhuoyu streaked off to Deer Jade Terrace.

Daoist Lord Tongxu was regulating his breathing in the inner hall. At the sound of footsteps he gently opened his eyes, and saw Lin Zhuoyu sidling over with exaggerated bashfulness before dropping to his knees with a thump.

“Your disciple greets Shizun!”

Daoist Lord Tongxu looked at him coldly. “Kneeling to me for an outsider’s sake?”

“Of course not.” Eyes wide, Lin Zhuoyu wriggled forward and draped his claws over his Shizun’s knee, gazing up at him beseechingly. “I’m remorseful that my reckless impulsiveness worried Shizun. Boo hoo, your hair has gone white—I wish I could rip out my own hair and swap it for yours.”

Daoist Lord Tongxu gave a soft laugh. “Is that so?”

He raised a hand and stroked Lin Zhuoyu’s head—and three thousand strands of black hair turned snow-white in an instant.

“Wish granted.” Daoist Lord Tongxu waved a hand. “Go play.”

Lin Zhuoyu: “…”

Lin Zhuoyu’s skin was already jade-pale; his hair turning to snow only set off his delicate features all the more.

He buried his forehead against Daoist Lord Tongxu’s knee and rubbed, saying in a small voice, “Shizun, he met with catastrophe and still braved death and danger to save my life. By both sentiment and reason, I cannot be an ingrate—how would that be any different from a demon? If something truly happens to him, I will never know peace for the rest of my life.”

Daoist Lord Tongxu looked down at him.

Lin Zhuoyu’s white hair spilled across his knees, winding outward like trickling water.

His temperament was gentle as water, and yet he was stubborn enough to defy even his own Shizun.

It was I who raised him wrong, Daoist Lord Tongxu thought. Had I raised him to be a little more selfish, he wouldn’t be caught in this dilemma now.

Stroking Lin Zhuoyu’s hair, Daoist Lord Tongxu’s tone softened somewhat. “Can you not think of yourself for once?”

“I am thinking of myself,” Lin Zhuoyu said. “If I truly were some sage descended from the heavens, I’d have dug out my Origin Core and returned it to him without a second word the moment I learned the truth.”

But Lin Zhuoyu valued his own life, so he could only rack his brains for a solution that satisfied everyone.

Only if it truly came to a dead end, perhaps, would he be able to face death willingly.

Daoist Lord Tongxu sighed silently. He understood Lin Zhuoyu’s temperament all too well, and could only say, “I’ll have Qingxiao look for another method.”

Lin Zhuoyu’s eyes lit up. Knowing that his Shizun wouldn’t kill Lu Qi anytime soon, he said happily, “Thank you, Shizun!”

“Go play,” said Daoist Lord Tongxu.

Lin Zhuoyu grinned. “How come you’re chasing me off the moment I arrive? Don’t you want my company to relieve your boredom?”

Daoist Lord Tongxu laughed. “Relieve my boredom? You’re more likely to give me a headache.”

For all that, he didn’t chase him off again.

Lin Zhuoyu was lively and flamboyant; he alone seemed able to fill the empty expanse of Deer Jade Terrace, chattering nonstop.

One moment he talked about Lingshu Mountain, the next about how terribly well-behaved Lu Qi was, scheming to leave a good impression on his Shizun.

Daoist Lord Tongxu rarely paid attention even to his own disciples, let alone strangers. After all Lin Zhuoyu’s muttering, he couldn’t have recalled the man’s surname or name to save his life.

“…Your sword broke. Another day, Shizun will find you a better one.”

Lin Zhuoyu nodded obediently, then relentlessly continued singing Lu Qi’s praises. “Shizun, Lu Qi is only so frail because he was saving me. Once he’s recovered, can I bring him to meet you?”

Daoist Lord Tongxu’s brow creased slightly; for some reason, those words displeased him greatly.

But Lin Zhuoyu was rarely this well-behaved, so he simply nodded. “Fine.”

Lin Zhuoyu happily kept his Shizun company until sundown before reluctantly returning to Xuanxu Residence.

Qingshan Qi had been lodged in a remote little pavilion. By the time Lin Zhuoyu arrived, the lamp was already out. Peering through the window lattice, he could just make out Qingshan Qi lying on the daybed—not covered by the brocade quilt, but wrapped in that peach-blossom-patterned cloak.

Since his back was turned, Lin Zhuoyu only sensed that Qingshan Qi’s shoulders seemed to shift, accompanied by the sound of a long, deep breath.

“Lu Qi,” Lin Zhuoyu called, puzzled. “Are you asleep?”

The figure on the daybed stiffened violently for an instant, and only after a while came the reply, “Just about to sleep. Is something the matter?”

His voice seemed oddly taut to Lin Zhuoyu, but he thought nothing of it. “Oh, I was worried you wouldn’t be used to the room. I was going to tuck you in, even.”

Qingshan Qi: “…”

Qingshan Qi slowly sat up on the daybed and looked toward Lin Zhuoyu, who was sprawled against the window lattice, chin propped in one hand, gazing at him lazily.

Under the moonlight, his snow-white hair spilled over his shoulders and his azure robe shimmered with pale silver light, like an immortal beneath the moon—impossible to look away from.

Qingshan Qi stared for a good while before asking, “Your hair?”

“It’s nothing. It’ll change back in a few days,” said Lin Zhuoyu. “What, you really can’t sleep?”

Qingshan Qi had that cloak from their time on Lingshu Mountain draped over him, and—no one knew how he managed it, with such a tall frame—he conjured an impression of fragile weakness. He said softly, “Mm. The moment I close my eyes, I see my family dying before me…”

Lin Zhuoyu sighed, at a loss for how to comfort him, and could only toss him a piece of candy.

“Once our Union Ceremony is done and your spirit channels are stabilized, how about we return to Lingshu Mountain and move your parents’ graves to a better resting place?”

Qingshan Qi lowered his eyes, faintly impatient.

He couldn’t care less where ants died, and he didn’t want Lin Zhuoyu wasting effort besides. He shook his head. “No need for the trouble. Spare us another disaster.”

Lin Zhuoyu blinked, confusion only just beginning to rise—when Qingshan Qi spoke first, cutting off the thought.

“Elder Brother, I’m scared. Could you stay with me tonight?”

Lin Zhuoyu didn’t mind at all, and nodded. “Sure.”

He so rarely got to protect anyone that he hopped over the windowsill in high spirits, found a cushion by the window, and sat cross-legged, saying in a solemn voice, “Don’t be afraid. I’m right here. No demon will harm you.”

Qingshan Qi gave an “mm” and lay back down, wrapped in the cloak.

After Lin Zhuoyu sang a rambling, nonsensical little tune and lulled Qingshan Qi into pretended “sleep,” he settled into his own breathing exercise and entered meditation.

All was silent.

Qingshan Qi opened his eyes and stared unblinking at Lin Zhuoyu in the moonlight.

A fox’s senses of smell and hearing were extraordinarily keen—and in the dead of night, they magnified a hundredfold.

The scent on the cloak had nearly faded. Qingshan Qi’s nose twitched lightly, and he sharply caught that unique fragrance drifting from Lin Zhuoyu a short distance away.

Sweet and crisp and cold. It was merely the ordinary mingling of incense and peach blossom, and yet it ensorcelled him beyond all reason.

Lin Zhuoyu’s breathing was long and even; deep in meditation, he was entirely undefended.

Qingshan Qi slipped soundlessly off the daybed and knelt before Lin Zhuoyu, staring at that face with dark intent.

Unlike the skeletal, tormented child of years past, this man had been clothed in silk and fed on delicacies, blessed with a devastating face. Every time Qingshan Qi looked at it, he wanted to press himself against it, and an uncontrollable urge to destroy rose in his chest—to crush the man to pieces and merge him into his own body.

Qingshan Qi lifted a lock of Lin Zhuoyu’s white hair. Bright as moonlight, it drew him irresistibly to his lips.

The sweet, clean scent intoxicated him even more than the cloak had.

Qingshan Qi’s throat bobbed slightly. Caressing that lock of hair, he breathed in deep and soundless, greedily drawing the scent into his lungs.

But it wasn’t enough.

Qingshan Qi was not satisfied.

Lin Zhuoyu’s body carried countless protective restrictions; anything too outrageous would surely wake him.

Under the moonlight, Qingshan Qi slowly curled his lips into an eerie smile. His nails shifted into fox-sharp claws, and with a soundless motion, he severed a lock of Lin Zhuoyu’s hair.

The bright moon poured down over Lin Zhuoyu, seated there with eyes closed, like an immortal pitying the world.

In the shadow a single line away, Qingshan Qi stood tall and monstrous, like a vengeful ghost-beast crouching at the feet of the gods. He extended his tongue and hooked the lock of white hair from his palm.

Holding the snow-white strands in his mouth, the beast’s fox eyes fixed unblinking on Lin Zhuoyu’s face, his throat rolling up and down—and then he swallowed it straight down.

It was only a lock of cold hair, and yet the imagined “scent” finally filled his hollow viscera. Even this twisted, counterfeit union made Qingshan Qi tremble all over with excitement.

He traced Lin Zhuoyu’s features through the air, whispering his name.

Lin. Zhuo. Yu.

Qingshan Qi recuperated for a full three days.

He insisted repeatedly that he was fine, but Lin Zhuoyu worried he wasn’t imposing enough—afraid Shizun might lop off his head in a fit of rage—and stuffed him with a whole pile of spirit pills.

Finally, the fourth day arrived.

Lin Zhuoyu woke Qingshan Qi early in the morning and handed him the newly delivered robes. “Here. Put these on.”

Qingshan Qi donned them obediently, then lifted his cuff—and his brow creased faintly. “Wuyou?”

Lin Zhuoyu had made him switch to addressing him by courtesy name, to avoid being treated like a child by Shizun. “Mm? What is it?”

Qingshan Qi pressed his lips together. “These robes… aren’t the same as the last pair.”

“Huh?” Lin Zhuoyu was puzzled. “How are they different? Same style of Daoist robe. Try them on.”

“No—” Qingshan Qi was blunt about it, his tone flat yet somehow aggrieved. “There are no peach blossoms on the cuffs.”

At that, Lin Zhuoyu burst out laughing. “That last set was my Eldest Senior Brother’s clothes—I sewed the peach blossoms on myself, they looked awful. If you like them, next time I’ll have a tailor make you a proper robe and have the embroidery shop stitch you a whole bunch, all right?”

A trace of coldness flickered through Qingshan Qi’s eyes as he tied his sash. “It doesn’t matter. As long as it’s from you, I’ll like anything.”

Lin Zhuoyu couldn’t stop laughing. “We’re not even pledged yet and you’re already spouting sweet nothings. Look at you, so promising! Your true Dao Companion in the future is going to be grinning from ear to ear under your flattery.”

Qingshan Qi looked at Lin Zhuoyu.

Who was, in fact, grinning from ear to ear.

The day was clear and bright, and before heading out, Lin Zhuoyu had even gone through the motions of casting a divination for himself.

Seeing his frown, Qingshan Qi asked, “What, a bad reading?”

“Great fortune,” said Lin Zhuoyu.

“Then why the long face?”

“My divinations are never accurate.”

Qingshan Qi: “…”

“Eh, it’s fine. I won’t die.” Lin Zhuoyu was easygoing by nature. He’d survived certain death on Lingshu Mountain, let alone his own home.

Watching Lin Zhuoyu walk ahead, Qingshan Qi followed the hand swinging lazily at his side.

Suddenly, Qingshan Qi’s hand darted forward.

Lin Zhuoyu dodged neatly.

Refusing to believe it, Qingshan Qi reached out again.

Lin Zhuoyu dodged again.

Three attempts in, Qingshan Qi finally realized Lin Zhuoyu was doing it on purpose, and frowned. “Elder Brother.”

“Stop calling me that.” Lin Zhuoyu glared at him. “Did you forget everything I told you?”

Qingshan Qi said quietly, “If you truly despise me, there’s no need to force yourself into this pact.”

Lin Zhuoyu raised a brow. “Where’s that coming from?”

“You won’t even touch me.”

Lin Zhuoyu looked at him in surprise, then reached out and lightly patted his cheek.

“Lu Qi, Lu Qi. Our pact is a sham, and when we meet my elders I will explain the whole story to my Shizun plainly, without hiding a single thing. If we walked into Deer Jade Terrace hand in hand, my Shizun’s temper would have your blood spraying across the floor on the spot—believe me or not?”

Qingshan Qi’s throat moved, feeling the warmth near his cheek. Only after a while did he say, “That’s exactly why I’m scared.”

Lin Zhuoyu eyed him. “Back then you were so terrified of those wolves you wouldn’t even grab my sleeve, and you said you hated being touched. And now?”

Qingshan Qi: “…”

Lin Zhuoyu scolded him, “Little brother, where’s your backbone?!”

Qingshan Qi: “…”

Watching Lin Zhuoyu’s retreating back with chilly eyes, Qingshan Qi thought, One day I’ll show this man exactly how much backbone I have.

Xuanxu Residence was close to Deer Jade Terrace; a few sentences’ worth of walking brought them to the entrance.

Few people ever came to Deer Jade Terrace, but today two figures were visible in the distance. As Lin Zhuoyu drew near, he found it was Li Buwei and He Xing.

Li Buwei had skillfully rigged up a pavilion shade for himself and was leisurely drinking wine while admiring the scenery.

He Xing, meanwhile, stood far off beneath a peach tree, watching furtively.

Lin Zhuoyu tiptoed up and smacked He Xing’s shoulder. “Senior! Brother!”

He Xing nearly leapt three feet in fright, whirling around with his soul half-left his body, and snapped in exasperation, “Lin Zhuoyu! Are you trying to scare me to death?!”

“Heh heh.” Lin Zhuoyu said, “What are you doing here?”

“My Shizun sent me to deliver spirit medicine to a Senior Martial Uncle, but the moment I saw Senior Martial Uncle Li over there, I didn’t dare go over.”

Lin Zhuoyu was puzzled. “You’re afraid of Shishu Li?”

“I am. Doesn’t that smiling face of his make the soles of your feet go cold?”

“Not at all.”

He Xing said dolefully, “Well, of course—everyone loves you. Naturally you wouldn’t notice.”

“Look at you, spineless.” Playing the elder brother to Qingshan Qi had gone to Lin Zhuoyu’s head, and he cheerfully lectured He Xing. “Not a shred of nerve—worse than Little Buffalo. Come on, stick with me. If anything happens, I’ll protect you.”

He Xing: “…”

Thus Lin Zhuoyu marched grandly toward the doors of Deer Jade Terrace with two cowards in tow, greeting Li Buwei cheerfully on the way.

“Shishu! Shishu! Did my Shizun throw you out again?”

Li Buwei said, smiling, “Your Shishu never made it inside in the first place.”

“Wait here—I’ll go put in a few good words for you.”

Li Buwei shook his head, laughing despite himself, thinking that this child merely not causing him trouble would already be a blessing. “A few days ago I forgot to give you a gift, so I had your Eldest Senior Brother pass it along. Did you receive it?”

Lin Zhuoyu blinked. Afraid Li Buwei would blame his Senior Brother for slacking, his eyes curved. “I did! As expected of Shishu’s careful selection—how did you know I was just short of one?”

Li Buwei nodded in satisfaction.

So Yan Su had put some thought into it, after all.

After exchanging a few pleasantries, Lin Zhuoyu led the others inside.

Li Buwei’s gaze settled on the tall figure behind Lin Zhuoyu, his eyes narrowing a fraction.

This man was… exceedingly strange.

Deer Jade Terrace.

Yan Su had spent three days in secluded cultivation in the Cold Pond behind Daoist Lord Tongxu’s hall, purifying his heart and steadying his breath. Though he endured constant, excruciating pain as if his marrow and meridians were being severed inch by inch, he had finally forced down those licentious thoughts.

He stepped naked from the Cold Pond, water cascading down. White robes wrapped Yan Su’s lean, powerful frame, the wide sleeves slipping past his wrists—and faintly visible at the cuffs, peach blossom patterns.

Chattering voices could already be heard in the distance. On all of Floating Jade Mountain, no one but Lin Zhuoyu could be so noisy.

Gripping the Wuyou Sword, Yan Su walked out of the Cold Pond.

In the main hall of Deer Jade Terrace, Lin Zhuoyu was leading Lu Qi in paying respects to Shizun. The moment he spotted his Eldest Senior Brother coming through the side door, he relaxed enormously and shot him a reassuring look that said, Senior Brother, you’re finally here.

Yan Su gave him the smallest of nods, then looked at Qingshan Qi standing at his side.

Fortunately, Qingshan Qi wore purple robes today, with none of Lin Zhuoyu’s embroidered peach blossoms at the cuffs. Yan Su coldly looked away and inclined his head in salute to Shizun.

Daoist Lord Tongxu could hardly be bothered to see outsiders, and only granted this audience for the sake of Lin Zhuoyu’s desperate pleading. Without so much as a glance, he ordered them out. “Mm. Go back.”

Lin Zhuoyu said hastily, “Don’t, Shizun! Today I have big news.”

Daoist Lord Tongxu lifted his eyelids and glanced at him. “Speak.”

Lin Zhuoyu carefully studied the face of the man seated in the place of honor, then remembered Li Buwei outside adding to his Shizun’s troubles, and asked in a small voice, “Shizun, how’s your mood today?”

“Excellent,” Daoist Lord Tongxu said flatly.

Lin Zhuoyu coughed dryly. He didn’t believe a word of it, but there was no other choice now—might as well smash the cracked pot. He beckoned to Qingshan Qi.

Qingshan Qi stepped forward to stand beside him.

Lin Zhuoyu said, “Shizun, about that matter from before—I’ve found a better solution that works for everyone.”

Daoist Lord Tongxu stared at the man beside Lin Zhuoyu, his pupils contracting, and in a flash of lightning something seemed to dawn on him.

But he refused to believe Lin Zhuoyu could truly be foolish enough to choose this. Face cold, he said, “Speak.”

The tone clearly meant: Say it, and prepare for a beating.

Yan Su’s brow creased slightly.

Lin Zhuoyu shivered, glanced at his Eldest Senior Brother beside him to steady his nerves, and lifted Qingshan Qi’s hand in his own.

The young man’s voice was clear and ringing, each word resonant through the vast inner hall.

“Lu Qi and I—are to be joined as Dao Companions.”