TSMITB Chapter28

Shen Que instantly froze, raising his eyelids without hesitation and concentrating for two seconds, but no further sound came.

Was he hallucinating? Shen Que unconsciously held his breath, letting his heart madly race back and forth in his chest before reluctantly returning to calmness.

After a few seconds of deathly silence, the voice sounded again, it was closer than before and tinged with anxiety, knocking repeatedly on his taut, fragile nerves.

“Shen Que!!”

It wasn’t a hallucination.

It was real, it was Sheng Qixiao.

How could he have found this place?

Shen Que’s mind slowly began to work. The thoughts of exploitation and calculation that usually filled his head the moment he saw Sheng Qixiao were now suppressed beneath that one call, leaving only an almost instinctive, absurd relief.

Shen Que opened his mouth, his throat seemingly clogged by something, barely able to produce any sound. He used all his strength and finally squeezed out a small sound from the depths of his throat before responding hoarsely, “…Sheng Qixiao, I’m here.”

After shouting those few words, it felt as though the last bit of his strength had been drained, leaving him unable to force out even a single syllable more. Yet tears welled up without warning, mingling with the sweat on his face and slipping into the corners of his mouth; it was salty and bitter.

In the darkness, a faint light flickered. A sense of urgency crept into the sound of approaching footsteps. Sheng Qixiao’s calls drew nearer, and the footsteps grew increasingly distinct.

Until his ears were filled with another person’s heartbeat, and Shen Que was finally embraced in a warm hug.

“Shen Que.” Sheng Qixiao’s voice was extremely gentle, but Shen Que vaguely heard something else within that tenderness; was it anger or the surprise or fear of having recovered something lost?

Shen Que didn’t know; he just turned his face away and pressed it against Sheng Qixiao’s chest to wipe away all his tears. Then, with an almost undetectable tremble of panic, he answered, “En.”

“Don’t move.” Sheng Qixiao bent down, one strong arm supporting Shen Que’s back while the other slipped beneath his bent knees before carefully lifting him sideways while avoiding the injured areas.

Even so, the pain caused Shen Que’s vision to darken in waves. He struggled to remain silent while forcing himself not to make a sound. The familiar scent of Sheng Qixiao filled his senses, and, little by little, the anxiety in his chest began to ease.

Sheng Qixiao held Shen Que securely in his arms, and in the dim light he carried him away from the blood-soaked ground, finding a relatively level spot before gently setting him down.

“The light…” Shen Que’s voice was terribly hoarse. He struggled to face the light. The long, lonely darkness had sown seeds of fear in his heart.

“I said, don’t move.” Sheng Qixiao looked down at Shen Que. His expression was indistinct in the gloom, but Shen Que knew that his usually calm tone finally held a ripple of emotion. “Your injuries are a bit serious, you might have broken bones. Do you want to be unable to stand for the rest of your life?”

Shen Que went still. The cave fell into utter silence, and within arm’s reach, only their two breaths could be heard.

“I’m sorry.” Sheng Qixiao took a deep breath, suppressing his emotions as he explained, “I just couldn’t find you, I was too anxious.”

The small lamp he brought lay crookedly next to the large pool of blood. He didn’t want to turn back to look or approach it, but Shen Que wanted it. After a moment of silence, he slowly got up. “I’ll go get it.”

“Sheng Qixiao.” Shen Que subconsciously grabbed the hem of Sheng Qixiao’s clothes, seemingly uneasy about his action of pulling away.

“I’ll be right back,” Sheng Qixiao gently reassured him. He didn’t know how he truly felt at that moment. He couldn’t distinguish whether his heartache for Shen Que was greater or if the satisfaction stemming from Shen Que’s subconscious dependence on him held the upper hand.

The footsteps faded and then grew near. The lamp pole was quickly passed to Shen Que, who gripped it tightly in his hands. The light was truly faint, only illuminating a small area. The distance beyond remained a dense, black expanse. Shen Que dared not look as if some all-consuming fierce beast lurked in that darkness.

Shen Que’s mind was turning slower and slower. He knew something was wrong. This wasn’t merely a symptom caused by excessive blood loss. He could feel the subtle granular sensation in the air, carrying an unknown smell with every breath he took. The more he inhaled it, the more his head felt as though it were being struck again and again by a blunt instrument, growing increasingly hazy and disoriented.

There was toxic fog in this cave too, perhaps even denser than outside. But even with his eyes open, Shen Que was gradually losing his vision.

He vaguely recalled what Sheng Qixiao had said at the dinner table that day: the toxic fog could cause hallucinations, even death within the delusion.

So, was this very moment a reality or an illusion?

The hand gripping the lamp pole suddenly tightened. Shen Que endured the pain before abruptly raised his hand, and squeezed Sheng Qixiao’s neck. Though it was more of a loose touch than a squeeze, his voice carried a feigned viciousness: “Who exactly are you!”

Sheng Qixiao grasped his wrist, his cool palm pressing against the back of Shen Que’s hand as his fingers interlaced with Shen Que’s, guiding him to tighten his grip around his own neck. His adam apple bobbed, sliding beneath Shen Que’s palm, “You tell me, who am I?”

Shen Que’s thoughts were drawn back to that chaotic night by this action. That hand felt like it was being burned between two branding irons, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t pull it back.

“Sheng Qixiao.”

“En.” Sheng Qixiao spoke slowly, “I am real, not a hallucination.”

Shen Que was once again pulled into Sheng Qixiao’s embrace. His tense nerves finally relaxed completely, followed by endless exhaustion. Initially, he could still feel Sheng Qixiao carefully checking his wound and stopping the bleeding. Later, the last remnants of his senses seemed to be exhausted. His consciousness receded like a tide, dizziness rising in successive waves, and even Sheng Qixiao’s voice sounded as though it were filtered through a transparent veil, faint and indistinct.

Sheng Qixiao tightened the arm hugging Shen Que while resting his chin against the top of his head and rubbing it gently. A moment later, he hardened his resolve and pinched Shen Que’s injured shoulder.

Shen Que let out a muffled groan, opened his eyes, and glared, his beautiful black pupils filled with annoyance. His eyes were redder than before, moist and glistening, as if tears were about to fall the next second.

“Don’t sleep, it will hurt your brain. You might become an idiot when you wake up.”

Hearing that he might become stupid, Shen Que immediately widened his eyes even more, even his eyelashes trembling from the effort. “Can we still get out?”

“Just hold on a little longer. Someone will come to save us soon.” Sheng Qixiao patiently coaxed him. He knew he couldn’t wait any longer, so he lifted his shirt to block half the light. In a spot where Shen Que couldn’t see, he picked up a loose stone from the ground and, without hesitation, inflicted a new wound on his wrist before fresh blood flowed down his forearm.

The next second, a warm, lively liquid was offered to Shen Que’s lips by Sheng Qixiao. Shen Que leaned back in Sheng Qixiao’s arms, unable to clearly see what it was, but he instinctively turned his head away. “What is this?”

Sheng Qixiao paused the movement for a moment, then gently wiped the corner of Shen Que’s mouth with his thumb with a soothing implication: “It’s the sap of a blood vine.” When Sheng Qixiao slowed his tone, it unconsciously carried a seductive quality. “It can reduce the damage from the toxic fog. Smell it, doesn’t it smell a little astringent?”

He deliberately held his wrist near Shen Que’s nose. Shen Que cooperated and sniffed, but he barely smelled anything. His sense of smell had long since become dull under the toxic fog’s corrosion.

Sheng Qixiao definitely knew this.

Shen Que closed his eyes. The liquid had already leaked through his lips and into his mouth, lingering on his tongue for a long enough time. It was warm and coppery-sweet and tasted like blood.

Sheng Qixiao was lying to him.

That was not blood vine sap at all; it was Sheng Qixiao’s blood.

“Really?” Shen Que’s voice was trembling because he vaguely felt that the wrist suspended in front of him was also trembling.

Doesn’t it hurt? Shen Que wanted to ask but didn’t.

“Really.”

The wound was likely deep. Every drop of liquid flowing down felt thousands of pounds heavy, striking directly onto Shen Que’s lips with an undeniable force.

Shen Que wanted to say something more, but Sheng Qixiao didn’t give him a chance: “Just be obedient, drink it, and you’ll be fine.”

Shen Que’s fingers curled tightly, his nails digging deep into his palm. He could not stop himself from recalling the shattered light in Sheng Qixiao’s eyes when he had held that bowl of drugged porridge, his own cautious probing and calculated testing toward him, and remembered…

But now, this person was putting his own blood to Shen Que’s lips to save him and even concocted such a clumsy lie.

His adam apple bobbed. Shen Que’s heart hammered away like drums. He slowly closed his eyes with his lips slightly parted. The warm liquid immediately surged in, carrying a metallic, rusty smell, scalding his tongue with nowhere to hide.

Yet, his throat felt clogged and constricted. No matter how much Sheng Qixiao urged him, he couldn’t swallow any of it. His stomach, which hadn’t received food for an unknown amount of time, was already empty, but at this moment, it uncontrollably resisted the arrival of anything.

The tears that had been swirling in his eyes for a long time dampened Shen Que’s cheeks. The sight of Shen Yi’s emaciated figure, tortured by the Gu poison, flickered before him. He could not die here.

What difference did that make him from those white-robed old men if he swallow Sheng Qixiao’s blood to exchange for a chance at life?

No, that’s not right.

It seemed there was no difference to begin with. It was all calculation and exploitation; could one really distinguish between high and low, noble and base?

Shen Que tugged at the corner of his mouth, wearing a look that was neither a smile nor a frown.

Had he been acting for so long that he genuinely considered himself a good person?

Finally, the liquid slid down his tongue and into his throat. An invisible yet sharp sting spread throughout his internal organs. He had drunk the fresh blood of his own kind.

Sheng Qixiao gently cradled the back of Shen Que’s neck, the force impossibly tender. He knew Shen Que hadn’t been fooled by his clumsy lie, and he also knew Shen Que’s inner struggle.

Shen Que drank his blood. Yet, the outside moral and ethical view considered it taboo. This was contrary to their culture and beliefs.

But what could he do? Sheng Qixiao sighed. He was just trying to save him. His blood was very precious; many people were scrambling to get it. How could Shen Que reject it?

The small lamp sputtered once as the light grew dimmer.

Amidst his disordered heartbeat, Shen Que silently swallowed the scorching blood, filled with deceit and lies, and then used it inch by inch to fill the conscience he had lacked since childhood, like acknowledging a debt that had long existed but had been avoided until now.