Chapter 8

Bloodless, colorless lips spoke such words of love, yet the Shadow Guard’s expression was difficult to read.

Knowing the Master disliked being gazed at for too long, the Shadow Guard started to lower his head—only to have it tipped up again by two of the Master’s fingertips.

The fingertips were cool, but compared to that coolness, it was clearly the Master’s subsequent interrogation that was harder to withstand.

The Shadow Guard pressed his lips together, the picture of a man resigned to whatever Yin Wuji wished.

Yin Wuji’s fingertips curled slightly. He did nothing at all—he only wanted to keep studying the Shadow Guard’s expression.

Knowing it was hopeless, yet still baring his true heart. Within the contradiction hid some small private scheme of his own.

The Shadow Guard was using this opening to complete a grand dissection of himself.

…He really did like him that much.

The Shadow Guard’s fair, cool skin suddenly turned scalding. Yin Wuji’s face changed drastically and he snatched his hand back. The Shadow Guard, not understanding, tilted his head and asked in confusion, “Master?”

Yin Wuji tucked his hand behind his back, and where the Shadow Guard couldn’t see, scrubbed his fingers fiercely until that heart-stopping heat was gone.

He looked at the Shadow Guard still kneeling on the ground and said evenly, “Get up first.”

But the Shadow Guard was, for once, a little stubborn. He offered his Master only the crown of his dark head and asked, “Master… may Shadow Nine come out now?”

Silence. The scene deadlocked at once.

Even kneeling, that perfectly straight back swayed slightly. This time, Shadow Twelve truly had no way left.

If the Master wanted Shadow Nine’s life, they could only obey. That was a Shadow Guard’s duty.

Immersed in despair, the Shadow Guard failed to notice Yin Wuji’s nod. “He may.”

The Shadow Guard looked up, stunned. Not having heard clearly, he blinked. “Master, what did you say?”

“This Manor Master said,” Yin Wuji stared at this face that was impossible to like, enunciating each word, “he. May.”

Yin Wuji was grinding his teeth, but the Shadow Guard had no attention to spare.

His shoulders trembled slightly from the overwhelming joy. Shadow Twelve knocked his head to the floor and said happily, “Thank you, Master.”

Joy spread through his pupils bit by bit. The Master wasn’t so bad after all—at the very least, after putting him through hardship, he was still willing to give Ninth Brother a chance.

Was he truly that happy?

Feeling stifled, Yin Wuji glanced at the Shadow Guard’s belly. For a moment he thought Shadow Nine and Shadow Twelve were a match made in heaven.

Yin Wuji snorted coldly. Shadow Twelve asked, “Master, what’s wrong?”

Yin Wuji’s gaze slid over the Shadow Guard’s body. Even his clothes came in matched pairs. His face grew ever more expressionless. “Get up.”

Shadow Twelve rose as instructed. The Shadow Guard’s lines were fluid; though he’d grown thinner these days, there was still flesh where flesh belonged.

Yin Wuji surveyed him with a scorching gaze, and his single thought, incredibly, was to strip that uniform right off the Shadow Guard.

And so the mercurial Manor Master Yin promptly ordered, “Take off those clothes.”

“Wh… what?” Shadow Twelve asked with some difficulty.

“Too old. Patches everywhere. If word got out, it would stain Listening Crane Manor’s reputation.”

Shadow Twelve had no mind to puzzle out how an old uniform could possibly damage the Manor’s reputation. Only—he had to undress in front of the Master… His face burning red, he asked, “Then, Master, what will this Subordinate wear?”

He had only two sets of clothes here. He was wearing the Shadow Guard uniform; the moon-white set had naturally been sent out to be washed.

Looking at the somewhat flustered Shadow Guard, Yin Wuji’s wicked streak stirred. He said, dissatisfied, “This is This Manor Master’s Rose Garden. Naturally there are plenty of clothes.”

Rose Garden was the garden Yin Wuji lived in; everything in it was always the finest. Clothes would be no exception. But those clothes… were all the Master’s.

Was the Master going to bestow his own clothes on him?

By the time Shadow Twelve thought this far, Yin Wuji had already flung open the wardrobe, and a cascade of clothes came raining down onto the Shadow Guard.

Buried in the Master’s clothes, surrounded by the Master’s scent, the Shadow Guard’s breathing began to scorch.

Judging it about enough, Yin Wuji turned back—and a mountain of clothes met his eyes. Parting the pile revealed the Shadow Guard’s shame-flushed face.

Limp and yielding, like something already thoroughly watered. Far too evocative.

Yin Wuji pinched the Shadow Guard’s scarlet earlobe, his voice a little low and hoarse. “You really are too good at pretending.”

This Shadow Guard was, at every moment, finding new ways to seduce him.

In that case, Yin Wuji’s hand moved to the Shadow Guard’s collar—fine, he would simply help the Shadow Guard along.

The Shadow Guard’s clothes had been in disarray ever since that broken sash. With the slightest effort from Yin Wuji, the outer robe slid down.

The reason it didn’t fall completely away was that some other resistance remained.

Yin Wuji glanced at the hands the Shadow Guard had clamped on the outer robe. “What are you doing?”

He wanted it—would the Shadow Guard dare defy him?

The flush on the Shadow Guard’s face had vanished the moment Yin Wuji began stripping his clothes. Pale-faced, he asked, “Master… what are you going to do?”

His mind was a muddle, but he wasn’t without the capacity to think. That first time, the clothes on his body had been shredded completely by the Master.

He remembered everything.

The red spread down to the root of his neck, fading at the snow-white underclothes. The Shadow Guard now looked the very picture of contradiction—wanting, yet not daring to want.

Rather delicious. Yin Wuji gave a soft scoff. “What do you think?”

Shadow Twelve’s hand trembled. His grip loosened, the outer robe dropping to the floor. The Shadow Guard tilted back his slender neck, like an offering at an altar.

Bearing the shame, the Shadow Guard said, “Master, please enjoy.”

With a roar in his ears, Yin Wuji was so provoked by that single sentence that he nearly lost his reason. He gripped the Shadow Guard’s nape and demanded, “What did you just say?”

The reaction had already taken hold.

And yet the Shadow Guard asked, blankly, “Master… don’t you like it?”

He had always hoped for the Master’s liking. After that day, he had gone and specially learned. So the Master didn’t like this after all?

Shadow Twelve looked somewhat lost, the hands hanging at his sides clenching and unclenching uncontrollably. This was all he knew.

Innocent. Bewildered. As if everything he’d just done had nothing to do with him.

How could such a person exist—wanton one moment, remarkably green the next?

Like biting through the green skin of a fruit to find the flesh inside perfectly ripe.

The Shadow Guard had started it, Yin Wuji thought coldly. He could not possibly fail to repay such deliberate seduction.

Without warning, his nape was bitten. The biter didn’t let go, still grinding at the spot.

Mist rose in Shadow Twelve’s eyes. Clutching his belly, he called out pitifully, “Master……”