Chapter 27
Chapter 27
“Brother He would never say such strange things.”
Darkness had yet to fully fall, as the Sword Discussion Tournament continued outside. Disciples from various sects were out and about; some seized the opportunity during these match-free days to wander leisurely, while others, valuing the tournament, intently watched the techniques of the itinerant fighters from below the Sword Discussion Platform. Thus, the courtyard remained rather deserted. Initially, the presence of Yan Ji, who simply couldn’t be quiet, chattering away nearby, kept the atmosphere from feeling too desolate. But now, with Yan Ji whisked away by He Yu, after Chen Shu’s words trailed off and Yun Shen offered no response, the silence became palpably heavy.
Perhaps a long time passed, or perhaps only an instant. Yet the words vanished so abruptly that the ensuing quiet felt prolonged. Yun Shen slowly drew his hand back into his sleeve and only then spoke:
“Is it that strange? You two will part ways eventually.”
“‘Eventually’ and ‘should’ are two different things,” Chen Shu said. “And separation itself is a serious, sorrowful matter. It shouldn’t be spoken so lightly.”
Yun Shen remained silent, seemingly unconcerned. Undeterred, Chen Shu pressed her lips together thoughtfully before continuing on her own:
“If you say things like that, Brother Yun would be terribly upset.”
Her voice was soft, not sounding like a direct reply to Yun Shen. Yet perhaps the night was simply too quiet, or the silvery moonlight too gently poured and unchanging. Her words nonetheless rang clearly in Yun Shen’s ears.
He raised his hand again, feigning adjustment as he smoothed his sleeve, steadying his voice that hadn’t actually faltered, before meeting her gaze directly.
Though heavily intoxicated, Chen Shu’s eyes remained wide open out of instinct, pitch-black orbs seemingly burning with an inner fire, as if threatening to lick at Yun Shen’s sleeve cuffs the next moment.
“Precisely because it is something sorrowful, it needs to be stated so plainly,” Yun Shen said, his words gaining fluency as he spoke. His gaze remained locked on Chen Shu. They stared at each other for a prolonged, quiet moment, that icy fire within her eyes burning fiercer, turning ever calmer, until Yun Shen’s hand unconsciously stilled.
“But Brother Yun is different,” Chen Shu declared. “Brother Yun was the first decent man who believed me, a decent man who saved me. I understand that even his chattering comes from a good place.”
Even looking directly at Yun Shen, so near each other, she spoke quite loudly. Perhaps it was the drink, but it felt more like a solemn, earnest declaration, shocking hearts into clarity.
Unbeknownst to them, the moonlight had finally flooded the entire courtyard, casting a faint, cold glow even on the fine down on Chen Shu’s cheeks.
“Hah. A decent man,” Yun Shen finally laughed, shaking his head. Then, as if unable to suppress it, he lowered his voice. “Let me ask you, ‘Little Shu’—do you consider practically everyone you meet a decent person? Do you bare your soul to practically everyone you meet?”
“I do not!” Chen Shu exclaimed loudly. Finishing her retort despite her haze, she reached out in a fluster to cover Yun Shen’s mouth. But her mind was clouded; she misjudged the scene before her. Her hand landed on his shoulder instead. It slid off slightly before Yun Shen instinctively caught it and pulled her near.
Yun Shen didn’t stop speaking.
“Yun Shen: you think he’s decent. He Yu: you think he’s caring. Even Li Chou, for all his arrogance and belligerence, you still worried about him. Even a tiger owned by an imperial official—you kept that in your heart.”
“What I keep in my heart is far more than that,” Chen Shu protested, leaning against his chest, one hand clutching his lapel, the other gripping his sleeve, struggling to look up at him as she slowly, fiercely listed them off. “I keep my master in my heart! My senior brothers and sisters! The jade I left at the pawnshop! The two gossip-loving old draft horses at the inn…”
Cut off by her outburst, or perhaps made uneasy by how Chen Shu pulled at his robe, Yun Shen paused. His hands, which had been loosely supporting her back, rose slightly to hold her more securely. He embraced her, saying nothing more, lost in thought, silently listening.
“But what I keep in my heart the most is…”
Complete silence reigned, as if the world itself was holding its breath for this final name.
Yet Chen Shu suddenly broke off mid-sentence. As if her mind had snapped shut, she belatedly circled back to Yun Shen’s earlier question from moments before. Her arm half-draped over his neck remained, but she tilted her body fluidly backward, balancing securely on the arm Yun Shen used to support her.
The distance between them widened a little, yet her eyes could see Yun Shen all the clearer for it.
“You’re also so cool,” she murmured. “Cooler than autumn… You still haven’t told me. Who exactly are you?”
Yun Shen held her awkwardly with one arm, yet the physical weight in his grasp seemed far lighter than the crushing weight of her question.
“I am—”
The courtyard gate creaked open.
“Brother Yun?” He Yu stepped in, shaking his hand vigorously as if he’d just put down something heavy. He made his way towards the table in the yard.
He wore his eyepatch securely. Combined with the lack of lamps in the night-shrouded courtyard, relying only on the clear moonlight, he could at first only see that the seats at the table were empty. Chen Shu and Yun Shen were just out of sight in a blind spot. He Yu walked several paces forward, calling out again, before his gaze turned sideways and he finally noticed Yun Shen standing by the door to his own room.
Chen Shu nestled in his embrace, blushing silently.
“Why are you standing at the doorway instead of going in? Is she alright?” He Yu couldn’t help but ask. “Clutching you like this—so undignified?”
Chen Shu didn’t answer, staring dazedly at the moon. It was Yun Shen who coldly responded:
“She’s utterly drunk.”
——
And utterly drunk she was.
Upon waking the next day, she remembered nothing except clamoring noisily about being hungry.
Of course, even if she’d forgotten everything else, the rich creamy aroma lingered in her memory, leaving her wistful. Yet that night, Yan Ji had taken Yun Shen’s suggestion and truly delivered those jars of mare’s milk to Shen Jie overnight. Whether Shen Jie accepted them remained unknown, but according to He Yu, the Linbo Prefecture entourage was nowhere to be seen on the streets the following day.
This was partly because the Sword Discussion Tournament remained in its preliminary round, so those sects weren’t yet required to compete.
In stark contrast, before the sun even peeked over the horizon, Chen Shu was hauled out of bed by Yun Shen. Still half-asleep, she was draped in her outer robe, her hair hastily tied back, rubbing her eyes with her head drooping as she trailed Yun Shen out of the courtyard.
Just before exiting, Yun Shen halted abruptly and turned back. She nearly crashed into him. They stared at each other for a moment before he asked with a darkened expression, “Where’s the token?”
“The token? What token?” she blinked.
Yun Shen took a deep breath.
“What can you compete with if you don’t have the token?” he asked, seeming both exasperated and amused as he repeated, “Wouldn’t be able to participate and just watch others fight?”
They immediately scrambled around the room searching. This search lasted a full quarter of an hour. The room was sparse, containing only a few bare tables and cabinets, devoid of any clutter, yet the small wooden token remained elusive.
By the time He Yu, having risen, came knocking to hurry them up, Yun Shen stepped forward to open the door. The two exchanged words, and He Yu couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Did neither of you notice yesterday? The token fell right outside the doorway. I picked it up for safekeeping,” he explained, pulling out the small wooden piece. Then, as if remembering something, he added a playful jab, “With four eyes between you, how come you missed what my one eye caught?”
Yun Shen glanced at him, hesitation flickering across his face as if ready to offer comfort. Before he could speak, however, Chen Shu’s voice rang out loudly from within the room, utterly offhand:
“But I don’t remember throwing this token in front of the door!”
He Yu asked curiously, “Don’t you recall anything about what you did outside the door with him last night?”
“Huh?” Chen Shu gasped, horrified. “Did I hit Brother Yun?”
He Yu was momentarily stunned, then burst into hearty laughter. He patted Yun Shen’s shoulder, shook his head, and strode out into the vibrant dawn light, leaving the two of them inside. Chen Shu looked at Yun Shen, then stole a glance at the daylight beyond the door, torn between dashing after He Yu and staying put out of responsibility.
Her playful expression finally coaxed a resigned smirk from Yun Shen. Casually pulling the door wider open, his face betraying nothing, he asked, “And what would you do if you truly had hit me?”
“Then I’ll take responsibility for you!” Chen Shu answered crisply without missing a beat. But then, rubbing her neck, she peeked sneakily at Yun Shen’s expression before cautiously adding, “…But you don’t have any bruises on your face, nor are you missing any limbs. Pretty sure I didn’t hit you, otherwise you wouldn’t look this intact. I mean, considering how I… never mind, I shouldn’t say!”
Mid-sentence, perhaps noticing Yun Shen’s deepening smile, she shuddered quite deliberately and changed the subject abruptly. “Let’s hurry! We’ll miss our turn if we’re late! What if they schedule us for the first match today—we’ll be late—!” With that, not waiting for Yun Shen’s reply, she pulled him hastily across the threshold, shouting loudly towards He Yu to cover her actions: “Wait for us, Brother He!”
The midday sun blazed overhead, and the wind carried a refreshing dampness. The trio hastened to the Sword Discussion Tournament, stopping only briefly—following Chen Shu’s insistence, though He Yu was never one to refuse much—to buy her some snacks to fill her stomach. By the time they arrived, the rosy dawn hadn’t faded entirely, still showing faint streaks of fiery orange.
Up on the Xuanzi Platform, the third round was already underway.
Whether by fortune or misfortune, Chen Shu certainly wasn’t among the first three bouts. Just as they began to relax and before they properly felt relieved, round after round passed; ten rounds went by. The announcer called out numbers, ranging from single digits to the tens; almost all of the previous day’s winners were summoned… yet “Number Twenty-Eight,” held firmly in Chen Shu’s hand, remained unannounced—
The sun grew hotter, the crowd below the platform thickened, roaring with cheers or groans of frustration over the combatants above. Amidst this throng, a burly man with a thick beard shoved his way laboriously toward the platform, accidentally bumping into Chen Shu as he passed. He apologized hurriedly.
Chen Shu paid it no mind, but He Yu stared at the man. “He looks familiar,” He Yu murmured. Chen Shu promptly stood on tiptoe to get a better look, giggling: “Not some distant cousin of yours, Brother He?”
“No,” He Yu frowned. “I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere—”
Before he could finish, the burly man exchanged a few words with a yamen runner guarding the entrance. The announcer cleared his throat loudly and boomed:
—
“The twenty-third bout at the Xuanzi Platform, Contestant Number Two, Meng Xu, of the Martial World Alliance, skilled in swords and axes, versus Contestant Number Twenty-Eight, Chen Shu, with no sect affiliation, skilled in boxing!”