Chapter 122

“…Where exactly are you going, you wild monkey?”

A sudden, sharp whisper from Yan Ji rang out in the empty room.

Following the previous quiet, that urgent hush struck startlingly clear, each word distinct despite its volume. Thankfully, Yun Shen’s window had closed earlier. Had it not, Yan Ji’s voice would have surely travelled through the nearly facing windows to the next room.

Yet even hearing it, Chen Shu seemed oblivious. She moved so fast, it was as if she floated on wind. Had Yan Ji not spotted the crisis and grabbed for her arm, it would only have taken moments before she bolted from the room.

“I asked: where are you— ” Yan Ji finally caught and held her, pulling her back by the shoulders. As he spoke, “It’s just a single character. Seen it? Then you know. That’s sufficient. I painstakingly found this very room, led you all around this long way, precisely to stop you rushing over just to pierce this thin paper covering… Are you even listening?”

“I am,” Chen Shu answered absentmindedly. But when she turned her head, her gaze fixed straight past Yan Ji’s shoulder towards the window. How could she be listening? At best, his words entered one ear and escaped the other. Half-hearted at best.

Seeing this, how could Yan Ji fail to understand? He reached out again to block Chen Shu’s backwards path, trying to hold her in place. But this time it proved far from the easy restraint seconds earlier. When Chen Shu was truly resolved, her momentum thunderous—who could ever withstand such force? It became apparent that it was only when Chen Shu herself had chosen to stop and turn earlier that Yan Ji had succeeded. Finally grasping the futility of his efforts, he withdrew his hands. Attempting reason, he spoke: “Did you actually register what I told you?”

“I understood!” Chen Shu finally paused her stride. Still without turning, she replied with palpable impatience: “Haven’t I understood? That’s exactly why I’m turning back now, taking this direct shortcut!”

“Wh— ”

Yan Ji’s words remained unfinished.

Indeed, even that syllable was left hanging as his voice abruptly ceased, replaced instead by the sharp, pained screech of the window wrenching upward beneath Chen Shu’s unrestrained force!

The window simply couldn’t withstand Chen Shu’s unchecked strength. Despite being so new, appearing so sturdy, had Chen Shu not kept one hand bracing it, it would have lost its support and plummeted long ago.

And Chen Shu’s movements didn’t stop. She stretched herself outward, immediately followed by another sharp crack. Without even needing to look, one knew the neighboring window had suffered the same fate under her “cruel hands,” being forcefully pried open until it barely offered enough space for someone to enter.

Faint sounds drifted through the opened window – Yun Shen turning in startlement, or perhaps the rustle of clothing being adjusted – accompanied by the deepening chill of the icy wind.

Then, precisely as both men stared out the window in utter astonishment, Chen Shu nimbly scrambled onto the sill and, with a single powerful leap, traversed the two windows and the empty gap between them in an instant too swift for the eye to follow. She slipped effortlessly into the other room.

Yan Ji’s mouth remained hanging open, unable to snap shut.

The sudden gust of wind from the courtyard surged into the room. Fortunately, devoid of support, the window slammed down hard against its frame with a dull, grunt-like thud, then, one after the other, the two windows effectively barricaded the biting winter chill outside.

Of course, it wasn’t just the chill that was blocked; all sounds from the other guest room ceased as well. The past few instants, a scene too swift for the eye to fully grasp, had vanished. The bright daylight was now shut out, and the room seemed to sink back into a semblance of vital calm. Yan Ji blinked, able to hear only the sound of his own breathing slowly settling.

Chen Shu hadn’t left behind a single word, nor any trace. As Yan Ji regained his senses, he involuntarily sucked in a sharp breath, as if abruptly awakening from a deep sleep. Instinctively resuming the interrupted conversation, he shouted towards the closed window:

“Then… then I’ll head into the city to investigate first!”

No reply came back. Yet, even Yan Ji, usually so composed, was flustered now. He paced restlessly around the room for a moment longer, seemingly convinced his counterpart could hear him. Clearly, with both windows closed, his somewhat muted shout might well have failed to reach the neighboring room. But he likely replayed Chen Shu’s earlier reaction in his mind once more and, feeling it insufficient, soon added, addressing the wall itself:

“You two talk properly, whatever you do, don’t fight! You absolutely must not bully someone weaker, Miss Chen!”

——

These last words, however much… were indeed quite inaudible to the party next door.

Chen Shu’s entry through the window naturally alerted Yun Shen. He shot up from the bed, grabbed his robe, and pulled it on over the trousers he had already changed into. Thus attired, he was practically fit to meet visitors, baring no indecent skin.

But Chen Shu stared at him, scrutinizing him with skepticism for the first time. It allowed her to detect an uncharacteristic tautness in his expression.

Of course. Having burst in so dramatically, so aggressively demanding an answer, only a fool wouldn’t realize the act was discovered, that she had noticed something.

Yun Shen was far from a fool.

Yet that composure swiftly returned to his face, soon showing no further irregularity. He even took the initiative to step forward, gave the window a sweeping glance, then let his gaze settle back on Chen Shu, asking gently, “Why the rush?”

A perfunctory facade, beating around the bush.

With Yun Shen’s acuity, he naturally could divine Chen Shu’s intent. Nevertheless, he chose this question that skirted the sharp edge. A cordial smile still in place, he acted the part of a clueless observer.

He was no fool, but he chose to play the fool, merely clinging to the faint hope of persuading Chen Shu to turn a blind eye.

Chen Shu had never minded this tactic of his before. She had even clumsily attempted to imitate it herself, finding the idea appealing: this ability to navigate the mortal world, to stir emotions like joy or sorrow with nothing but a persuasive tongue, to achieve one’s aim with just a few well-chosen words.

This time, however, was the first time she felt genuine revulsion.

Dislike without reason took root in the pit of her stomach and grew rapidly.

Perhaps it was because Yun Shen’s previous concealments had involved trivial, inconsequential matters too minor to mention. Or perhaps it was because, in her eyes before, Yun Shen had only been a kind acquaintance – neither stranger nor intimate confidant – making such secrets mundane, something naively accepted and ultimately tolerable.

Only until today. Only until she realized the matters Yun Shen had been hiding involved her deeply. Only until they had forged a bond, spoken happily of love just the night before. Only until she witnessed what she should not have seen, and chose a path that ignored consequences, a move as startling as rending the sky.

That little fire atop Yingqiu Weir Mountain? It was nothing. She herself was the most vigorous, the most scorching blaze, one the world needed to tread carefully around lest it be utterly consumed.

The mundane world had its mundane rules; it was Chen Shu who had descended the mountain, Chen Shu who needed to assimilate. But a Sword Cultivator also had a Sword Cultivator’s nature. She could theoretically learn those slick, worldly ways of maneuvering. Yet she remained the impulsive, artless girl, her joys and angers displayed plainly on her face – she would never tolerate injustice, nor suffer grievance indefinitely.

“Earlier,” she said, “you promised that once I found my sword, you would be open with me. That you would tell me every word you wished to say in detail.”

Just by looking at her clear and stubborn gaze, one could know her determination.

Yun Shen looked at her, momentarily dazed, then quickly composed himself. “You already know?” He did not specify whether it referred to knowing about the sword or the thoughts behind his unspoken words, but his fingers gripping the window ledge had unconsciously tightened, almost leaving white indents. “Actually—”

“—No.” Chen Shu interrupted him, saying, “I’m not here to listen to you repeat what I already know. Since I’ve guessed it, what’s the point of hearing it again?”

“… Fair point.” Yun Shen said, he finally showed a hint of genuine smile, yet it was edged with cold irony; then he clenched his teeth again, suppressing his expression while awkwardly stepping back to sit on the bed’s edge. He rested his hands on the bed frame as if gaining some support, raised his head to look at Chen Shu, and with a firm tone, slowly stated, “So you’re here to chastise me?”

“I’m here to fulfill your wish.” Chen Shu responded loudly, also lowering her head slightly to look at Yun Shen. “It was my ignorance that kept me clamoring about retrieving my sword. Now that things are clear, this whole ‘sword-searching’ affair naturally becomes unnecessary. I remember what you said before, about some ‘Blood Pact’ or being free and unfettered; thinking back now, I understand.”

Yun Shen looked up in utter shock.

The clothes Chen Shu had bought him were casually folded and placed beside the bed; at that moment, they slid down another inch, as if they might fall to the floor with just a blink. But no one in the room cared about them anymore, or even noticed them.

Perhaps up until that very moment, Yun Shen had still been alert enough to spare attention and reach for the clothes, but once Chen Shu spoke those words, instantly, he lost all color in his face, and the composure he had barely managed moments before completely crumbled.

This intense, fear-tinged surprise was something seen on Yun Shen’s face for the very first time.

“I didn’t mean it that way back then—”

“Don’t treat me like a childish fool anymore.” Chen Shu let out a brief, sharp laugh and went on, “Helping in Zhanglin Village was pity, turning back at Diancang Pass was sympathy, scheming at Valley of Villains was justice— then what about this time?”

“… I have deceived you, no doubt,” Yun Shen said, his tone growing much more urgent, “but that was only a temporary measure!”

“A temporary measure? What temporary measure?”

Chen Shu arched her eyebrows and asked,

“From Tianyu Mountain to Zhanglin Village, then to Diancang Pass, Mijiang Slope, Valley of Villains, and of course those two nights at Ping Chao Kou— I treated you with sincerity. Even when Elder Sister said you had shady origins, I dismissed it, thinking only of friends bonding and comrades journeying together for a long time, which had nothing to do with origins or status! Could it be that, in your view, all that was just temporary?”

Her words struck the ground with force, that clear, resonant voice echoing through the room, almost piercing the heart, shattering the flimsy facade of calm between them piece by piece until it lay scattered underfoot.

Winter had arrived. No matter how lush a tree, whether it once blotted out the blazing sun and offered shade to thousands, those yellow leaves would eventually fall entirely, exposing the hollowed trunks from bird pecks, branches broken by wind, and boughs weakened by heavy fruit.

Anyone knew that if it could just weather this winter, with the spring rain’s nourishment, the cloud-like cascade of leaves would regrow, brilliant and abundant with blossoms— yet no one really knew if the tree could survive this harsh season.

A bitter wind rattled the window frame, sending out creaking sounds that faintly resembled distant sobs from an unknown soul.