Chapter 19#
A Method#
The spring wind grew warmer by the day. Yin Yuheng’s coughing-up-blood episodes had gradually improved, and at last he no longer needed to be wrapped in layers of fur.
He walked through the willow-scented breeze in light robes, unhurried and elegant, with a quality that seemed to place him slightly apart from the mortal world. Yet there was a smile in his eyes and warmth in his gaze — and the palace maids passing by couldn’t help stealing more than one glance.
Seeing that Yin Yuheng’s sickly pallor had lifted and that he was diligently attending to his official memorials, Yin Shaozhu finally felt at ease and made preparations to enter seclusion.
“Elder Brother should focus entirely on the seclusion and not worry about me.” Yin Yuheng tucked a spiritual treasure into his brother’s hands with a cheerful smile. “You’ve been at the peak of the Yuan Ying stage for so long now — you’ve needed to break through for ages. You’ve been held back because of me all this time, and that makes me feel terrible.”
Yin Shaozhu hesitated, then reached out and ruffled his hair.
Yin Yuheng smiled, calm and gentle. “I know what Elder Brother wants to say. I’m aware of it all. Don’t you trust your own brother?”
Yin Shaozhu shook his head. “You’re remarkable in every way — but the moment Li Guanghan is involved, your judgment goes right out the window.”
He’d heard that his younger brother was still looking into Li Guanghan’s affairs. This steadfast devotion gave him a faint, persistent headache.
…Well. Li Guanghan was still Ah Heng’s teacher — he wouldn’t deliberately harm him. The feelings of the young rarely lasted if they were never returned. Perhaps it would quietly fade on its own.
Setting aside the matter of Li Guanghan, his younger brother had always been someone he could be proud of.
Yin Yuheng blinked at him, expression clear and guileless.
…
Once Yin Shaozhu had gone, the smile on Yin Yuheng’s face faded at once.
He dismissed the attendants and walked alone along the palace walls. The spring light was soft all around him, but a chill crept back into his chest without warning.
A vast palace, hundreds of servants. Not one person he could speak to from the heart.
Only himself.
The moment the smile left his face, Yin Yuheng’s striking features turned cool and remote. Sparrows hopped along the branches and sent peach blossoms raining down. The young man walked through the shower of petals and looked, somehow, as though he stood just outside the world rather than within it.
This was simply who he was — warm on the surface, cold at the core. There were very few people he truly allowed himself to care about.
When Lu Yan spotted him from a distance, the first thing he saw was Yin Yuheng’s detached expression. He paused, caught off guard.
But in the next moment, the smile was back — exactly as it always was, as though what Lu Yan had seen was nothing more than his imagination.
“Shao Jun Lu, feeling better?” Yin Yuheng walked over. “I’m still tracking down the Netherbloom. Once I have all the ingredients for the antidote, I can help clear the rest of the poison.”
Lu Yan studied him for a moment, then said quietly: “My poison is fine. You should focus on your own recovery first.”
Yin Yuheng’s eyes curved. “I’m much better already. Ah Yan — I won’t be back tonight. Don’t wait up for me.”
Yin Yuheng called Lu Yan whatever came to mind — Shao Jun Lu, Ah Yan — using them interchangeably with no apparent system. Yet somehow, no matter what he called him, his voice made it sound like something worth hearing.
“Not back?” Lu Yan’s expression darkened. “You’re going to the Guoshi Manor again?”
Yin Yuheng smiled ruefully. “Shidi’s still not recovering well — he coughed up blood again last night. I have to go check on him.”
Lu Yan pressed his jaw tight. “The First Prince just left and you’re already running off to the Guoshi Manor without a thought for your own health… fine. I’m coming with you.”
Yin Yuheng shook his head, helpless. “The Guoshi Manor won’t let you in.”
Lu Yan’s expression stiffened, and he felt a strange, sourceless irritation at being a demon.
Yin Yuheng suddenly leaned toward him with a smile, reaching out — and brushed past his ear.
“Why so serious? I’m going to see my teacher and Shidi, not walking into a den of wolves.”
Lu Yan went faintly still. Only after Yin Yuheng had stepped back did he raise his hand, dazed, and touch his ear.
At some point, without his noticing, Yin Yuheng had been hiding a peach blossom, and had tucked it behind his ear.
Lu Yan: “…”
Yin Yuheng laughed at him for a good while before turning to leave, giving a wave without looking back. “Bed early, up early, Shao Jun Lu! No need to think of me tonight.”
His white robes moved through the profusion of spring blossoms and gradually disappeared from view.
Leaving Lu Yan standing in place — who reached up, took the peach blossom from his ear, and held it carefully between his fingers.
…
The world was in full spring. Yet the Guoshi Manor still seemed to be in winter.
Yin Yuheng arrived carrying a food box, dressed in light layers. The cold hit him the moment he stepped inside, and what little color had returned to his face drained away again at once.
He paid no attention to the faint ache stirring again in his chest and made his way toward Zhu Anning’s courtyard.
Hearing a cough from within the room, Yin Yuheng’s brow furrowed with concern. He pushed the door open and found Zhu Anning curled alone in bed, his blanket half-fallen aside.
Yin Yuheng crossed the room in a few steps, pulled the blanket back up over him, and sighed quietly. “Sick as you are, you can’t even stay properly covered? Where’s Shifu?”
“Shixiong…” Seeing who it was, a flash of warmth crossed Zhu Anning’s face. He drew his hand out from the blanket and closed it lightly over Yin Yuheng’s sleeve. “Shifu has gone to the archive tower to search for a way to treat damaged spiritual veins.”
“If he finds something, I’ll be able to stop worrying.” Yin Yuheng touched Zhu Anning’s head gently. “I brought you ginseng and old duck soup — I added some medicinal herbs. Have at least a little.”
The ginseng duck soup had come from something Zhu Anning had mentioned, almost in passing, the last time Yin Yuheng visited — half a reminiscence, half a murmur: I still remember, when I was small, Gongzi used to make soup for me…
Yin Yuheng had remembered it, and brought it this time.
“Did Shixiong make it himself?” A smile touched Zhu Anning’s lips. His gaze was dark. “That’s nice.”
He obediently lifted the bowl and drank. Beneath Yin Yuheng’s warm, attentive gaze, something ugly stirred in his chest.
…It really does.
The careful tenderness. The gentle, loving attention. So like the Gongzi from his memory — the one who had rescued him, who had helped him.
But a substitute was always only a substitute. His Gongzi was irreplaceable.
Everyone who had harmed Gongzi would pay.
What’s come before has only been the interest on the debt. Shixiong — I can’t wait to see your face when you realize I’ve taken everything from you and left you with nothing.
The book containing the method for healing damaged spiritual veins had already been placed in the archive tower in advance. Once Li Guanghan found it…
Just thinking about what was about to happen made him tremble with anticipation.
Zhu Anning looked up at Yin Yuheng. “Shixiong — do you still remember my birthday?”
Yin Yuheng smiled. “How could I forget? I’ll definitely have a gift for you. Get better quickly — your birthday should be celebrated properly.”
A gift? Zhu Anning smiled inwardly.
Shixiong, I’ve already decided what I’m going to ask for. I hope it’s not too much for you.
He sipped his soup with practiced delicacy, feigning mild discontent. “Shixiong found qilin horn especially for Shifu. You can’t be careless with my gift!”
Yin Yuheng went still.
The box with the qilin horn — he had left it in this room last time, never having had the chance to deliver it to Li Guanghan himself. He hadn’t realized Zhu Anning had found it.
Watching the reaction on Yin Yuheng’s face, Zhu Anning laughed softly. “If Shixiong went to such trouble to find qilin horn, how did you leave it here so carelessly? You should have given it to Shifu in person.”
Yin Yuheng looked away, pained. “…I forgot, somehow.”
What was he supposed to say to that? Admit, in front of his junior brother — the person his teacher truly cherished — that Li Guanghan hadn’t cared enough to notice the gift? Admit that he hadn’t been able to find the courage to hand it over himself?
He was in love with Li Guanghan — but Yin Yuheng still had a sliver of pride, and he didn’t want to lay his wounds bare for anyone to see.
Especially not in front of his little Shidi.
Zhu Anning’s smile deepened. “Shixiong is so absentminded — forgetting something this important. But don’t worry — I already gave it to Shifu for you!”
Yin Yuheng startled. “You—”
“I gave the qilin horn to Shifu. He was genuinely pleased — he even smiled a little!” Zhu Anning said.
Yin Yuheng stilled for a moment. Something cautious and hopeful crept into his eyes. “Really?”
“Really.” Zhu Anning nodded, then paused deliberately before delivering the rest with a smile. “But then I told Shifu it was a gift from Shixiong. And Shifu… suddenly stopped smiling.”
“I honestly can’t imagine what made Shifu unhappy all of a sudden.” Zhu Anning arranged his expression into one of innocent puzzlement, watching Yin Yuheng from the corner of his eye.
As expected — the look of hope on Yin Yuheng’s face froze.
He lowered his head slowly. A grayness crept across his features.
In that moment, it seemed as though all the snow of the Guoshi Manor came rushing into his chest at once. The cold cut through him. Yin Yuheng couldn’t hold on any longer — he curved forward, pressing his hand over his heart, and breathed out something that sounded like despair.
…The only reason Shifu had been pleased was because he assumed the qilin horn was from Shidi.
Finding out the truth — Shifu must have been so disappointed.
Perhaps he even resented Yin Yuheng for it. Resented him for getting in the way.
…It hurts. More than when my heart meridian flares.
“Shixiong?” Zhu Anning’s voice came to him, soft with concern.
“Don’t look at me.” Yin Yuheng had his head bowed, too undone to let anyone see him like this. “Anning — don’t look at me…”
“…All right.”
Zhu Anning answered softly. But his eyes stayed fixed on Yin Yuheng, unwilling to look away.
Zhu Anning had always been perceptive, and he knew exactly which words would dig deeper, make the pain worse. He had intended to say more.
But in this moment, he found himself hesitating, for reasons he couldn’t quite name.
Looking at Yin Yuheng’s hands gripping the bedclothes white-knuckled with pain, Zhu Anning found, to his own surprise, that he felt less pleased than he had expected to.
Shixiong. Do you care about Li Guanghan that much?
Shixiong. Why won’t you look at me instead?
Shixiong. What you owe me, you’ll repay with everything you have. Your life will be mine sooner or later — and your gaze too, it should only ever fall on me…
Zhu Anning’s eyes grew slowly distant. He reached out, almost without thinking, and closed his hand quietly over Yin Yuheng’s pale fingers.
“Shixiong…”
Yin Yuheng breathed slowly, steadying himself. He managed, at last, to look up with a thin smile. “I’m all right. Did I frighten you?”
“…No.” Shixiong. Even in this much pain, you’re still thinking about whether you frightened me.
Don’t you feel even a little resentment…
Zhu Anning’s expression grew complicated. He was about to say something more — and then the door swung open.
A wave of cutting cold air rushed in. Yin Yuheng knew, without looking, that Shifu had returned.
He turned, heart lurching. In the doorway stood the white-robed sword cultivator — upright and sharp as a blade, his impassive expression like a mountain of snow that had not thawed in ten thousand years.
Yin Yuheng instinctively pressed his pain back down into the deep, and rose to his feet. “Shifu is back.”
Li Guanghan’s gaze moved between Yin Yuheng and Zhu Anning. His expression held an unusual complexity — and then, in a rarity, he sighed.
“…I went to the archive tower.”
“There is indeed a book there. It contains a method for healing damaged spiritual veins.”
Zhu Anning said nothing.
Yin Yuheng rallied. “What does it say? Whatever rare materials it requires, however difficult to find — I’ll do everything I can to get them for Shidi.”
Li Guanghan shook his head. “Anning’s injury is unusual. Rare materials won’t help.” If they would have, he would have sought them long ago.
“Then what is the method?” Yin Yuheng asked, puzzled.
Li Guanghan sighed again. His gaze settled on Yin Yuheng.
Yin Yuheng was seldom the focus of Shifu’s careful, sustained attention. Yet now, with it turned on him, he felt — not warmth. A quiet dread.
“The method is unconventional,” Li Guanghan said, his voice even. “It requires blood.”