Chapter 84: In Your Dreams
Feng Shi’s breathing hitched.
Before he could react, Shen Songhe’s presence enveloped him from behind.
Immediately, Feng Shi’s slightly restless hand was grasped by the other’s cool hand.
A light, subtle scent drifted to his nose. It couldn’t exactly be called a fragrance, but it smelled wonderful.
Those jade-like fingers gently pried open his hand, which was gripping the brush in a death grip. He carefully repositioned the brush handle and lightly wrapped Feng Shi’s hand around it.
Feng Shi snapped out of his daze and wanted to snap at him, but he realized Shen Songhe was maintaining a proper distance. Their bodies weren’t touching at all; the man was merely encircling him, with one hand on the edge of the table and the other holding his hand.
Once the posture was adjusted, he lightly let go.
It was as if it had just been a casual act of assistance.
“…”
Feng Shi ground his teeth until they creaked, focusing on adjusting his grip.
After being corrected by Shen Songhe more than a dozen times, the “clumsy” Feng Shi finally… well… learned how to hold the brush.
Shen Songhe’s voice was pleasant. “Not bad. Shier is truly clever.”
Qingqing: [Doesn’t your conscience hurt when you tell lies?]
“Next is making the first stroke.”
“Drawing talismans consumes spiritual and mental energy. At the same time, it requires a steady hand.”
Shen Songhe leaned over, holding a brush to draw the same talisman script on paper. Only this time, he didn’t infuse spiritual power, so the talisman didn’t take effect.
“Drawing it in a single stroke like this results in a masterpiece. Even though it’s a low-grade talisman, it can exert its maximum power.”
Feng Shi nodded. Having had his first experience, he wasn’t as confident anymore. He carefully dipped the brush in cinnabar ink and set the brush to the paper with a stony face.
His focused, solemn appearance—looking as if he were facing a great enemy—seemed nothing but adorable in Shen Songhe’s eyes. He couldn’t help but want to reach out and rub the boy’s head.
“Ha!” Sweat broke out on Feng Shi’s forehead, and his eyes were practically bulging. He was serious, very serious.
However, his hand still wobbled upon the first stroke.
“Shit!”
If the first stroke failed, there was no point talking about the rest.
Although Feng Shi insisted on finishing the drawing, the lines were of uneven thickness and crooked. Calling it a centipede crawl would not be an exaggeration.
He truly had no artistic cells!
Shen Songhe’s eyes curved slightly, his vision filled with Feng Shi’s frustrated face: Just like when he was Senior Brother Liu Yi, he likes to say strange exclamations. But he’s still as lovable as ever.
Feng Shi was a bit irritated.
As expected, a person’s luck couldn’t be good all the time. There had to be something he tripped over.
He stood up and pushed the yellow paper on the desk aside, taking out plain white paper from his Qiankun bag, intending to practice on this first.
A man’s competitive streak is easily ignited. Feng Shi didn’t believe he couldn’t draw it, so he prepared to keep at it until he succeeded.
Shen Songhe guided from the side, stepping in to help whenever needed. By the end, they were simply sitting on the same chair, with Shen Songhe holding him in his arms and teaching him hand-in-hand.
Feng Shi was so engrossed in practicing that he had long since stopped caring about boundaries. He would even occasionally take the initiative to ask Shen Songhe questions, acting like a model student.
Feng Shi continued practicing until the sun set.
It wasn’t until the night wind grew cold that Shen Songhe couldn’t help but let out a slight cough.
Feeling the vibration of the other’s chest and the breath by his ear, Feng Shi felt as if he had just woken from a dream.
“Master, you…” Feng Shi set down the brush and turned his head, only to realize that their distance was so close that their noses were almost touching.
Shen Songhe’s face was pale. Wrapped in his cloak, he gave a small smile. “It’s fine.”
Feng Shi frowned and stood up, putting the brush away. “Forget it. We’ve been drawing for a long time today. Master should rest early.”
The courtyard was half-covered with white paper covered in red ink. Feng Shi leaned over to tidy everything up and organized the desk. When he looked up, he saw Shen Songhe sitting in the same spot without moving an inch, looking at him with eyes as clear as water.
Pitiful.
Deli…cious.
Feng Shi: “…”
“Master, it’s getting cold. Please go back inside.”
He turned his head and spoke harshly, yet for some reason, his heart felt a slight prickling sensation.
Shen Songhe offered a smile, his voice sounding weak. “Could Shier please help me up?”
Feng Shi was suspicious. “Has Master really become frail to this extent?”
Is he faking it?
Just as this thought occurred to Feng Shi, Shen Songhe slapped him in the face with his actions.
A bit of blood seeped from the corner of his faintly curved lips.
Feng Shi was horrified. He hurriedly stepped forward to help the man up and wrapped the cloak tightly around him, his brows knit together. “Why didn’t you say earlier that you were uncomfortable!”
Shen Songhe’s hands were extremely cold, not at all like a temperature a normal person should have. He covered his mouth and coughed twice more, smiling. “It’s no matter. It’s always like this around this time every year. I’m used to it.”
A weight sat in Feng Shi’s chest, but he didn’t know how to vent it. He said gloomily, “And you’re still smiling!”
Then, he silently ushered the man into the room.
Reaching the bedside, he supervised the man as he lay down under the covers. Feng Shi knelt before the fireplace to start a fire and set up a warming barrier. It wasn’t until he had worked himself into a sweat that he let out a breath and finally let the matter drop.
Outside the window, a fine rain began to fall at some unknown point. Like silver needles, the droplets descended into the dark world, striking leaves and eaves, moistening the earth and bringing a touch of chill.
Feng Shi wiped the hot sweat from his forehead and turned to look at Shen Songhe, who was lying obediently in bed but whose gaze had been following him the whole time.
“I won’t be coming tomorrow. Master should focus on recuperating.”
Over a hundred years old and still such a worry.
Shen Songhe’s brows knit almost imperceptibly. A pale hand reached out from under the covers and grabbed Feng Shi’s hand. “No, Master can still…”
“You can still my… ass!” Feng Shi lowered his head and irritably stuffed the hand back under the quilt.
Shen Songhe might be dying.
In such an abruptly arrived cool autumn, Feng Shi couldn’t stop himself from thinking this.
his eyes felt a bit hot, and a dull pain throbbed in his throat.
Shen Songhe seemed to sense his emotions. His smile faded slightly, but he brought up a sudden topic.
“Your divine soul is very strong.”
Feng Shi blinked and didn’t answer, not understanding what he meant.
Shen Songhe continued to himself, “It was that half-year in the Demon Slaying Tower…”
After that, neither of them spoke.
They both knew exactly what their relationship had been like back then.
A moment later, Shen Songhe reached out that hand again and touched Feng Shi’s temple.
The icy touch eased the throbbing pain there.
Shen Songhe suddenly asked, “Did it hurt?”
Feng Shi froze for a moment, then slowly processed the words.
Did it hurt?
Of course it did.
He had been in so much pain he wanted to die; he’d been in so much pain he didn’t want to live.
It was just that no one cared about him back then, so he felt it was just like that. It didn’t matter, as long as he didn’t die.
But now, someone was asking if it hurt.
Feng Shi’s eyes instantly reddened, but he put on a smile. “It hurt. It hurt to death. You have no idea how many times I died. Sometimes I died before I even realized what was happening… anyway… it hurt a lot.”
“Really, it hurt a lot.”
A look of deep guilt appeared in Shen Songhe’s eyes, but there was even more heartache.
He suddenly sat up from the bed and pulled Feng Shi into his arms with an undeniable force.
Feng Shi didn’t struggle. In fact, he was busy trying to blink back his tears.
Shen Songhe held him tightly. There were no unrealistic, false comforts or empty promises. Instead, he asked softly, “Then would you like to sleep with Master tonight?”
Then he added, “Master is afraid of the cold.”
Hearing this, Feng Shi laughed through his tears. He gave the man a shove on the shoulder, though he didn’t dare use too much force. “In your dreams!”
Translator’s Note: This chapter really hit me in the feels. That conversation about the Demon Slaying Tower… poor Feng Shi. He’s been through so much alone, and having Shen Songhe finally acknowledge that pain is a huge moment for their relationship. And Shen Songhe using his “frailty” to ask for cuddles? Smooth, Master, very smooth.
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