Chapter 8#
An Old Friend#
“Lu Yan… I’m fine.” Yin Yuheng hung his head, his voice faint but stubborn.
A flash of hot anger rose in Lu Yan’s chest.
Fine. He calls this fine?
The blood had run down onto Lu Yan’s hands, seeping between his fingers and staining his cuffs.
Lu Yan forced his fury down and said quietly, “Please, National Preceptor Li — save him.”
Li Guanghan caught the undercurrent of hostility in Lu Yan’s tone and frowned slightly, puzzled, though he didn’t press the matter.
He cultivated the Way of Nine Coldnesses — a cold heart, cold emotions. In his eyes, nothing in this world was particularly different from anything else. Yin Yuheng, Lu Yan — neither was anything special.
“He is my disciple. Of course I will save him,” Li Guanghan said flatly. “But I would like to ask — what brings Shao Jun Lu to Chaoge?”
Shao Jun?
Yin Yuheng startled, struggling to raise his head. Lu Yan had gone rigid where he stood.
Li Guanghan glanced at the scorched black marks burned into the ground by the golden flames. His voice remained utterly unmoved. “The only ones who can wield the Golden Crow’s Sacred Fire are those of the Golden Crow clan.”
The Golden Crow was a divine bird by nature. In all the world today, only two existed — one was the Demon Emperor, and the other was the Demon Clan’s Shao Jun, their young lord.
The Demon Emperor could not possibly have come to Chaoge. So Lu Yan’s identity was rather obvious.
Lu Yan tightened his arms around Yin Yuheng and lowered his gaze. “What business is it of yours?”
The silence was as good as a confirmation.
“The Demon Clan’s Shao Jun, venturing into human territory — naturally I must ask,” Li Guanghan said, cool as ever. “I hear the Demon Clan has not been at peace of late. Leaving the Three Wilds, Shao Jun — I suspect that was not by your own choice.”
Lu Yan’s gaze was turning cold. He was about to speak when the person in his arms gave a faint tug at his sleeve.
Lu Yan’s thoughts snapped back to Yin Yuheng. Alarm flooded through him, and he forgot all about Li Guanghan. His eyes darted away, unable to meet Yin Yuheng’s gaze. “I… I didn’t mean to hide who I was…”
A thousand years ago, the three clans — human, demon, and devil — had warred in chaos, and the relationships between them had never been warm. In recent years, the world had gradually settled into an uneasy peace, and the tension between humans and demons had eased somewhat, though they were still far from any kind of brotherhood. Moreover, there had been no shortage of incidents in the Li Dynasty involving demons harming humans, and humans held a deep, instinctive wariness — even revulsion — toward the demon folk.
If he found out that the one he had risked his life to save was a demon… would he regret it?
Lost in that anxious, fluttering dread, Lu Yan felt a hand close gently around his.
He looked down, dazed. He was met with Yin Yuheng’s clear, bright gaze.
Yin Yuheng smiled. “I trust you.”
“…”
Lu Yan couldn’t find his voice. Something warm and bittersweet swelled inside his chest, filling it to the brim — an emotion he had no words for.
“I’ve been keeping something from you too. Don’t be angry with me, all right?” Yin Yuheng blinked. “My name isn’t actually Bai Heng.”
Lu Yan looked at him. “Your name is Yin Yuheng?”
Yin Yuheng blinked again. “You… how did you—”
Lu Yan gave a wry smile. “You said you were a disciple of the Guoshi Manor. As far as I know, Li Guanghan only has one disciple — the Crown Prince of the Li Dynasty, Prince Heng. And just now, the sword technique you used carried the unmistakable imperial violet aura. It wasn’t hard to figure out.”
Yin Yuheng looked a little abashed. “So you’d already guessed… Though Shifu has more than one disciple now.”
Lu Yan had no interest in the matter of disciples. His only concern was Yin Yuheng’s injuries.
He raised his head and fixed Li Guanghan with an impassive stare. “He trusted you with his whole heart. And yet just now, you didn’t come to save him.”
Li Guanghan’s brow furrowed. “You are reproaching me?”
Lu Yan tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I wouldn’t dare.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, then continued, “Regardless of anything else — he is your disciple. I am asking you to save him. I… I will leave Chaoge as soon as I am able. I won’t bring trouble to his door.”
“Lu Yan!” Yin Yuheng started.
Lu Yan held Yin Yuheng’s gaze for a long moment, then guided him to Li Guanghan’s side.
“Lu Yan, if you leave you’ll be in danger, you—”
“Shixiong!” A voice cut through the air. Zhu Anning had approached without anyone noticing, and now took hold of Yin Yuheng’s hand. “Shixiong, you’re already injured — and you’re still worrying about someone else?”
Yin Yuheng turned, blinking in surprise. Zhu Anning was staring at him with burning eyes, a tumult of unreadable emotions churning within them.
Yin Yuheng softened his voice. “Shidi, I’m fine. Don’t worry.”
Zhu Anning seemed not to have expected those to be the first words Yin Yuheng would say to him. He murmured under his breath, his tone layered and unsteady, “…Shixiong. Would you go save anyone? No matter who they were?”
Even someone you’ve never met before. Even someone who took the teacher you care so much about away from you.
Shifu didn’t come to save you — because of me. You must have been hurt by that. And yet the way you look at me is still so gentle, so patient. You’re in so much pain your hands are trembling, but you insist you’re fine. You still thought to worry about Lu Yan. You still thought to comfort me. But for yourself — you couldn’t spare a thought.
How am I supposed to harden my heart and take revenge against someone like you?
…
In the end, Yin Yuheng’s strength gave out entirely. He was carried to bed in a state somewhere between consciousness and sleep.
Outside, plum blossoms were in bloom. Inside, warm hearthstones lined the floor. The room was perfectly quiet.
Yin Yuheng “lay unconscious” for two shi chen. In his inner sea of consciousness, he spent two hours playing Gomoku with Xiao Bai.
“I give up.” Yin Yuheng lost another round and pursed his lips in boredom. “Playing against you is like playing against an AI. No fun at all.”
Every move precise and calculated. Not a single mistake.
Xiao Bai looked a little sheepish. “Then… shall I tell Heng-ge a story? We never finished The Sick and Obsessive Boyfriend of a White Lotus the other day.”
“Good boy,” Yin Yuheng said lazily. “Pick a different one. I just spent all that time playing a white lotus — I need a mental cleanse.”
The single “good boy” left Xiao Bai feeling pleasantly dazed.
Another half shi chen of storytelling passed before Yin Yuheng decided he’d rested enough.
“Where’s Lu Yan?”
“Lu Yan is a demon, so he can’t enter the Guoshi Manor. He’s waiting outside,” Xiao Bai answered. “He’s been standing there for two and a half shi chen.”
Yin Yuheng smiled. “And my dear Shifu and Shidi? I was unconscious for two whole hours and neither of them came to check on me once.”
Xiao Bai tried to gauge Yin Yuheng’s tone and couldn’t tell whether he was actually upset. He proceeded carefully. “Zhu Anning’s spiritual veins have been fragile ever since he was used as a blood slave in childhood. He had another dizzy spell just now, so Li Guanghan took him to the Wenhua Pool to recuperate.”
“So they left their injured patient here all by themselves?” Yin Yuheng adopted a mournful expression immediately. “How pitiful I am.”
“…” Not upset at all, then. Still has the energy to perform.
“Couldn’t go earlier, couldn’t go later — had to go now, of all times. Clearly meant to make me feel bad,” Yin Yuheng mused, his tone perfectly gentle. “I’ve underestimated my Shidi. He’s quite calculating.”
“…You are more so, I think,” Xiao Bai said sincerely.
“You flatter me.” Yin Yuheng smiled. “I’m going back to sleep. Wake me when Shifu and Shidi return.”
He slept until the moon was high overhead. Xiao Bai woke him.
Yin Yuheng surfaced from sleep reluctantly, brows creasing in mild petulance.
…
Zhu Anning stood before the window, gazing quietly at the figure asleep in the bed.
The blood-stained robes had been changed. The wound at his shoulder had been dressed and wrapped. Yet Zhu Anning could not stop seeing the image from earlier — Shixiong, half-drenched in blood.
The moment he’d seen those terrible stains, something had clenched painfully inside his chest.
He couldn’t name what he was feeling. But it bore no resemblance to the satisfaction of revenge.
Through the window, he could see Shixiong’s pallid face and furrowed brow. Even in sleep, there seemed to be no peace. Without thinking, Zhu Anning gripped the window frame tighter, a faint unease rising in his chest.
He had feigned illness on purpose — had made Li Guanghan take him to the Wenhua Pool.
Leaving Yin Yuheng alone, weak and wounded, with no one to attend to him — letting him taste that same helpless pain Zhu Anning had once endured — it should have been satisfying. But at the Wenhua Pool, Zhu Anning had been distracted the entire time.
The first thing he did upon returning was come here. He hadn’t been able to stop himself.
“Cough. Cough.”
A coughing fit broke the stillness of the room. Zhu Anning tensed. Yin Yuheng’s eyes blinked open, unfocused and dazed. He stared blankly at the empty room for a moment, then tried to push himself upright — and wrenched his shoulder. He lurched forward and nearly fell off the edge of the bed.
“Shixiong!” Zhu Anning couldn’t hold back. He stepped inside.
Yin Yuheng was hunched at the bedside, coughing as though something was tearing apart inside him. A thin thread of blood appeared at the corner of his lips. He wiped it away with practiced subtlety, then looked up at Zhu Anning with a smile. “Shidi? You’re still awake?”
Zhu Anning had caught it — he’d seen the blood Yin Yuheng coughed up — and his brow furrowed. He knew Shixiong had always been frail, that coughing up blood seemed to be an ongoing affliction, though the cause remained unknown.
One Netherbloom flower shouldn’t have left Yin Yuheng ill to this day. Could he have sustained internal injuries tonight?
No — why am I worrying about him? Zhu Anning thought, a flash of irritation cutting through him. He answered stiffly, “I was unwell today. Shifu took me to the Wenhua Pool. We only just returned, so naturally I haven’t slept yet.”
Yin Yuheng paused, then reached out and took hold of Zhu Anning’s wrist.
Zhu Anning was puzzled — until he felt two fingers pressed lightly against his pulse point, and realized Yin Yuheng was checking his condition.
Zhu Anning went very still.
“The Wenhua Pool is excellent for nurturing the spiritual veins, truly,” Yin Yuheng said earnestly. “Still — that Liyan Warm Jade I gave you before, you should keep it close to your body at all times…”
Zhu Anning finally snapped. “Shixiong! I said Shifu took me to the Wenhua Pool!”
You care so much about Shifu, don’t you? Someone came and took everything that was yours — so why aren’t you hurting? Why aren’t you jealous?
Yin Yuheng blinked at him, genuinely bewildered, as if he couldn’t understand why his Shidi was upset. “I know.”
A wave of defeat crashed through Zhu Anning, murky and unplaceable. “Shixiong — why are you so good to me?”
Yin Yuheng let out an amused breath, the way one might look at a willful child. “You’re my Shidi. Do I need a reason to be good to you?”
Zhu Anning wasn’t satisfied with that answer. He kept his eyes fixed on Yin Yuheng.
Yin Yuheng sighed. “All right, there’s another reason.”
“You… remind me of someone.”
A tender, wistful look crossed Yin Yuheng’s face. “It was a long time ago. Counting the years, he’d be about your age by now.”
An old friend?
The softness in Yin Yuheng’s expression dazzled him for a moment. But somewhere beneath it, a faint, inexplicable displeasure stirred in Zhu Anning’s chest. He didn’t understand where it came from, and in the end, he attributed it to his hatred of Yin Yuheng.
He gave a quiet, low laugh. “I have an old friend too.”
Yin Yuheng looked up with mild curiosity. “Oh? What was he like?”
Zhu Anning shook his head. “I can’t remember clearly.”
“I was injured once. A lot of my memories from when I was small went hazy after that.” His voice was soft. “I only remember — he was a very, very good person. The best I’ve ever known.”
Yin Yuheng listened quietly, his gaze intent, waiting for him to continue.
Then Zhu Anning’s tone shifted, suddenly and without warning.
“Later, he died.”
Zhu Anning bowed his head, concealing the cold light in his eyes. “After that, I made a vow. I would avenge him, no matter what.”
Yin Yuheng said nothing. A silence fell over the room, broken only by the faint rustle of winter wind through the plum branches outside.
After a long moment, Yin Yuheng let out a quiet laugh — low and oddly inflected.
“Is that so.”
“That’s very good.”
“I hope — you get exactly what you wish for.”