Chapter 16

“Senior Sister is unwilling?” Shen Anzhi raised a brow, leaning in slightly, twining a lock of his own dark hair around his fingertip.
Jiang Yu laughed softly as she continued wiping. “I didn’t say that.” She hurried to finish drying the last of his hair and started to lower the towel. “All done.”
His little finger brushed “accidentally” against the silver bell at her wrist, then his hand snapped closed around her, fingers wrapping firmly around her slender wrist. His thumb pressed lightly along the pulse under her skin, feeling it jump against his touch.
“Don’t move.” His expression shifted, something flickering across his face in the candlelight. His grip tightened abruptly… then released just as quickly. He turned his back, lay down facing the wall, and said flatly, “Sleep.”
Jiang Yu took one look at his back, then slipped off her shoes and socks, dove back under her blanket and pulled it over her head. “Good night, Junior Brother.”
“Good night…” Shen Anzhi repeated under his breath, frowning faintly. “What does that mean?”
Jiang Yu peeked at the boy lying on the bed in dark robes. “It means I’m wishing you a peaceful sleep and sweet dreams. So, we say ‘good night.’”
His lips twitched. Some unnamable feeling slid through his chest as he shut his eyes. He didn’t answer, just rolled the coin between his fingers and sank into thought, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing.
Jiang Yu closed her eyes and pretended to sleep until, eventually, her breathing slowed for real. From under the covers came a muffled murmur: “This time I’m really going to sleep…” The words melted into the candlelight.
When her soft, even breaths finally filled the room, Shen Anzhi found his own lashes growing heavy. Hearing her breathe somehow tugged him down toward sleep as well.
Then the old scar beneath his collar flared with dull pain. A thread of dark red light flickered briefly. Shen Anzhi’s brows drew together as he clutched his chest, breath hitching. He glanced once at her peaceful face, then swallowed down the metallic taste in his mouth. The sharp, needle-fine ache lasted a full stick of incense before it faded.
By the time the pain ebbed away, his forehead was slick with sweat. His pale lips moved soundlessly as he steadied his breathing.
He rarely slept well. Yet, when he lay back down, sleep took him quickly.
Half-awake, Jiang Yu heard faint rustling and turned over in her pallet, blinking groggily.
She didn’t dare open her eyes at first, she hoped it was just a dream.
When she finally looked, she made sure she wasn’t imagining it. Her breath caught as her fingers slid toward the blazing-sun talisman hidden in her sleeve.
Her pearl, which had been by her pillow, had somehow rolled across the floor to rest three inches from the door.
Outside the wooden door, smoke-thin shapes began to slither into being. Three black masses, each about the size of an infant’s head, peered through the cracks, their miasma seeping inside along with the stench of rotting leaves. The copper lock on the door creaked under some invisible strain as the shadows swelled, slowly twisting into vaguely human forms.
Jiang Yu bit down hard on her lower lip, swallowing the scream burning up her throat. She clapped a hand over her mouth, trying to calm her ragged breathing as her heart threatened to punch through her ribs.
She crawled up as quietly as she could, knuckles bone-white as she clenched her fists, and reached to tug at Shen Anzhi’s sleeve at the edge of the bed.
“Junior Brother… Junior Brother…” she whispered, shaking his hand with trembling fingers. “Wake up. Shen Anzhi, wake up, say something…”
He didn’t stir. No mocking “Senior Sister” slipped from his lips.
By candlelight, she saw how pale his face was. Pressing her palm to his forehead, she felt the cold sweat beading there.
“I’m not letting us die together here,” she muttered, forcing her gaze away from him and back toward the door, her eyes hardening.
She pulled out every blazing-sun talisman she’d bought and held them ready. If those shadows tried to force their way in, she’d plaster the entire door with talismans and blow them straight into the stars.
Outside, the black things slid from the door toward the window instead. The wooden frame creaked. The thin paper screens would shatter in an instant if struck by the demons’ force, but they didn’t attack. They crawled, back and forth, along the walls surrounding the inn, from right to left, circling and circling.
Jiang Yu glanced at the bed. There was a wide enough space behind him for her to sit. Gathering her skirt, she climbed up, reached for his hand again, and flinched at the heat radiating from his palm. It burned against her fingers.
Her breath hitched as she lowered her gaze. Her fingertips had brushed something else.
Shen Anzhi let out a faint groan. His long lashes fluttered like butterfly wings before his eyes opened.
His gaze snagged, for a heartbeat, on the sweep of scarlet at the foot of the bed. Jiang Yu was on her knees, halfway to climbing over him, frozen mid-motion. Her clear eyes collided with his shadowed ones, and he regarded her through a haze of restless darkness.
His fingers closed around a strip of her sash, thumb rubbing over it lightly. There was no warmth in the cloth now, but it felt as if it still held the echo of her body heat.
Amusement glinted in his eyes. His little finger gave the sash a subtle tug, and as she nearly toppled forward, he sat up, lowering his gaze until they were eye to eye.
“Those things can’t get in for now,” he said, voice rough but steady, an absolute reassurance.
Jiang Yu exhaled in relief, only for him to lean in, lips curling faintly. “But does Senior Sister realize she’s currently on my bed?”
Her entire body went stiff. She really didn’t want to admit she’d been worrying about him, and that fear had driven her onto his mattress.
“Your bed is plenty big,” she said, too quickly. As the words left her mouth, heat raced up to her ears. She yanked half the blanket over herself and rolled into a tight cocoon, leaving only her bright eyes exposed. “I’m sleeping here tonight.”
He watched her huddle at the foot of the bed, refusing to move, and rubbed his brow. Half-lidded eyes flicked toward the window, then back to her. He didn’t bother hiding his amusement.
She was wrapped up like a silkworm cocoon, no more than an arm’s length away, pretending to sleep.
If she’d turned her back and left him, the things outside would have devoured her clean. Instead, she stayed and declared she’d protect him.
His gaze drifted to his empty palm, then back to her curled figure.
Why?
For the third time, his thoughts slipped, pulled off-course by a single person.
Was it backlash from the True Word Technique…?
Jiang Yu had no idea how long she lay there, tense and pretending to sleep. At some point, real sleep finally claimed her. The next thing she remembered was a ticklish sensation on her cheek.
She blinked awake, bleary, staring up at the white canopy overhead.
Still wrapped like a burrito, she stretched languidly inside the blanket, then touched the corner of her lips and turned toward the door.
A tall silhouette stood there, backlit, framed by morning light. The glow carved out his profile in sharp relief.
Any lingering drowsiness vanished.
Shen Anzhi stood with his arms folded, expression almost relaxed. When his lashes lowered, the pressure in his gaze didn’t lessen. His phoenix eyes slanted upward by nature; with the demonic red mole at their corner, even if he were just staring at a stray dog, it would look deep and soulful.
“Is Senior Sister not planning to get up?” he asked.
Jiang Yu pressed her lips together, digging her nails lightly into her palm. Then she smiled and sat up. “Trouble Junior Brother to step outside a moment. I’ll wash up.”
“No need to stand on ceremony with me, Senior Sister,” he said, voice soft with a hint of a laugh. Still, he stepped out and closed the door, only halfway.
With his back to the wood, he said quietly, “Congratulations to Senior Sister on surviving another night.”
Jiang Yu forced a chuckle. “You too.”
By the time she came downstairs, freshly washed, Shen Anzhi was seated by the window, a single candied chestnut between his fingers. His tongue nudged it against his cheek as he bit down slowly.
She hadn’t yet reached the window when a clear, mist-cool voice called out to her. “Young lady, since you’re still at the inn, are you also here because of the demon problem?”
Ning Hechi’s hem was still damp with morning dew as he walked up to her.
Jiang Yu recalled the brief glimpse from the previous night. The candlelight had been dim; all she’d remembered clearly were his light green eyes and slightly exotic look. Now, seeing him properly, her gaze slid over the flowing cloud patterns woven discreetly at his collar. That was unmistakably the inner disciple uniform of Penglai Pavilion.
The same sect as the male lead, Fang Weiyun.
Jiang Yu’s eyes curved into crescents. “Yes. Pleased to meet you, Senior Brother of Penglai. I’m Jiang Yu, from Crane Sect’s Qingxin Courtyard. And that is Shen Anzhi of Taiqing Courtyard.”
Shen Anzhi’s fingers tightened around the chestnut until his knuckles went white. The more Ning Hechi’s attention lingered on Jiang Yu, the more something in him bristled. He only inclined his head slightly, gaze drifting away to the window.
Ning Hechi rolled the name on his tongue for a moment, then smiled, warm and polished. “I am of the Ning clan, Ning Hechi.” He offered Jiang Yu a formal bow, smile deepening. “An honor to meet Miss Jiang.” His tone paused for a half beat before he turned to Shen Anzhi, fists cupped. “And to meet Young Master Shen.”
Behind him stood a man a few years older, in his early twenties. “Disciple of Penglai Pavilion,” he said. “Surname Lu, given name Bin. Just a rough fellow.” His cheeks flushed shyly before he’d even finished speaking. Avoiding Jiang Yu’s gaze, he scratched his head. “So you are indeed disciples of Crane Sect. Might I ask… will your sect’s chief disciple, Junior Sister Gu, be coming to Tianji City to handle the demon?”
“She will,” Jiang Yu answered, almost automatically glancing at Shen Anzhi before adding, “But if this demon threatens an entire city… why have we seen so few people on our way here?”
Shen Anzhi tilted his head, flicking a brief glance over Lu Bin and Ning Hechi.
Ning Hechi replied in a low, even voice, “Tianji City is remote. To prevent the demons’ movements from spreading, we’re operating in secret, coming from various directions. There aren’t many disciples involved.”
Lu Bin rubbed the back of his head, elaborating, “A few of us were already on a mission in Liucheng, the closest city to Tianji in Zezhou, so we got here faster. But counting how long it takes to send word out and back, support from other sects should arrive in the next day or two.”
Once he got going, Lu Bin couldn’t seem to stop. He explained how complex Tianji City’s terrain was, and how they’d hired a local woodsman yesterday to guide them into the mountains.
The mountains were thick with miasma. Their expedition had turned up nothing, and they’d come back empty-handed. After finishing the story, Lu Bin glanced at Jiang Yu, curiosity in his eyes. “Forgive me, Junior Sister Jiang. Last night I heard you mention ‘Senior Zhuge’… Are you acquainted with this senior?”
At the name Zhuge, Jiang Yu instinctively thought of that Zhuge Liang from centuries in her own past. But that would make no sense here. She quickly shook her head. “No. Never heard of him.”
Lu Bin’s face fell with visible disappointment.
In the original book, the Tianji City arc had been brushed over in just a few lines. The city had been founded by the Zhuge clan; only after the last Zhuge descendant died over a decade ago did the city lord’s surname finally change.
After the meal, Jiang Yu excused herself and went out to “stroll” around Tianji City.
Under the leaden sky, the streets were nearly empty. A few scattered pedestrians hurried past, shoulders hunched, all heading in the same direction, toward the city gates.
The wind rolled in, carrying mountain humidity and heat, reminding her of the clammy fog of Lingnan’s rainy season. She had barely walked one lap around the bluestone street, half a cup of tea’s time, before her clothes clung to her back as if she’d been dipped in hot water.
Following the description in the original story, she did indeed spot a familiar detail in a narrow alley.
At the far end of the dark lane sat a small herb cottage. Two plain white lanterns hung under the eaves, and red couplet paper strips framed the doorway, completely blank, no ink, no characters. Just then, two staggering figures appeared, supporting each other as they shuffled inside.