Chapter 27: Enticement

“Don’t get upset first,” Kunlun said. “Since the items went missing here at the inn, let’s go question the innkeeper first.”

“I’m not upset.” Chuci plopped down on the bed, patting the space beside her. “Do I look upset to you? Tired from all that walking, aren’t you? Come sit and rest a bit first.”

“You’re not upset?”

“What do I have to be upset about? A petty little thief, that’s all. Don’t tell me you think we can’t catch them? Come and sit down.”

Kunlun found herself pulled and tugged over to rest. Chuci casually formed a flame talisman with two fingers to light the candles in the room, then fixed her gaze squarely on Kunlun.

Years ago, Kunlun had grown accustomed to Chuci’s decisiveness in killing and ruthless, sharp methods. Though Chuci had kept her close for over a thousand years now, Kunlun still felt completely out of her depth whenever those eyes fell upon her. Chuci’s pupils were a light shade, somewhat like aged amber wine—warm and lustrous. But in the candlelight, by some trick of light and shadow, they took on an illusory, faintly bluish cast, appearing incredibly soft and endearing.

—Everyone else besides me is ugly. Understand?

—Naturally, I understand.

Meeting Chuci’s gaze now, Kunlun didn’t dare to even breathe too loudly.

Chuci placed both hands on Kunlun’s shoulders and pressed down slightly. Kunlun’s body went rigid.

Chuci gazed at her.

“Kunlun…” She slowly leaned in closer.

“Why does it still feel a bit thin to the touch?” Chuci’s palms slid downwards, tracing along Kunlun’s arms until she reached her hands. “Your hands are too cold.”

Her touch was far too restrained—so restrained that the sensation came through the fabric of her clothes more than skin.

Kunlun opened her mouth and found her tongue had gone completely numb with stiffness. For a long moment, she couldn’t utter a single word.

Chuci blinked. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

Kunlun shut her eyes and tried to remember how she used to handle moments like this. But perhaps it was a stone’s natural slowness, or perhaps her memory, vast and long, couldn’t recall quickly. She racked her brain but found no answer.

The dazed, faraway look in her eyes surfaced again. Yet the flutter in her heart had already calmed.

Chuci often caught her wearing that expression, and every single time it stirred an instinctive, primal discomfort deep within. She cut it off, commanding: “Don’t think. Kunlun, look at me.”

“Alright.” Kunlun pulled her mind back and looked at her.

Chuci leaned further forward, drawing so close that their foreheads were almost touching. She asked, “What do you see?”

“I can’t see clearly.”

Those three words swept away more than half of Chuci’s gloomy mood in an instant. The corner of her lips curved upward as she pulled back a little. “And now? What do you see?”

“You.”

“And how am I?”

“You’re smiling.”

“Good. What am I doing right now?”

“You’re holding my hand.”

“And now?”

“You’ve wrapped your arm around my waist and pulled me closer.”

“And now?”

“I still can’t quite see.”

“Silly stone, you don’t need to see. Close your eyes.”

When Kunlun opened her eyes again, her clear, dark pupils seemed moistened by the Butterfly Spring waters at the very peak of Mount Kunlun—glistening, impossibly limpid. Her lashes were damp, and every slight tremble looked as though it might release a droplet.

Chuci was still watching her. After a moment, she reached out a finger and gently wiped the corner of Kunlun’s lips.

“Little Ci,” Kunlun suddenly lowered her eyes and said in an uncharacteristically soft, almost bashful voice.

A sudden, electric numbness tingled in Chuci’s ears. She immediately shot to her feet.

“What are you doing?”

Chuci coughed dryly twice. “Getting some water to drink.”

As if chased by something, she fled from the bedside and indeed rushed to the table to pour water, downing three or four cups in rapid succession.

Kunlun stood to stop her. “Why are you drinking so much?”

Chuci hurriedly strode to the window, escaping once more, her back to Kunlun as she defended herself. “I was tired from walking all day. A bit thirsty, that’s all.”

“Little Ci…”

With lightning speed, Chuci covered both her ears and said in a muffled voice, “Go back and sit on the bed first. I’ll come to you when I’m done.”

“Is there something you can’t show me?”

“Of course not. Ugh, just don’t ask right now. I said sit, so sit.”

“Oh.”

Once Chuci was certain both her ears had returned to their normal state, she reached up and smoothed her long hair behind her, even untying her bell and retying it before going back to sit beside Kunlun. “I still hadn’t finished what I was saying earlier, and you interrupted me.”

Kunlun said, “I didn’t interrupt you.”

Chuci nearly choked. She wanted nothing more than to knock her on the head. Her fingers twitched but couldn’t bring herself to follow through — she’d already rapped her once today. What if more raps made her even more dim-witted? So instead, she patiently continued, “Fine, then. It’s just that my memory is bad.”

Kunlun hesitated. “Mmm… but your memory is far better than mine.”

“Now you’ve interrupted me, haven’t you?” She sounded as delighted as a child rewarded with candy. “Finally, I can finish. I hadn’t finished earlier when you interrupted me. I…”

She stopped, raising a hand to her forehead and grumbling in frustration. “This is all your fault. You interrupted me so many times I can’t remember what I was going to say anymore.”

Kunlun: “…”

With her inherently straightforward stone-born nature, Kunlun often fixated on one thing until it was settled. So she helpfully reminded Chuci, “If you can’t remember, set it aside for now. Our bundle and river lantern are still in someone else’s hands. When the time comes to pay for the clothes, how will we settle the silver?”

“It’s just a little thief,” Chuci scoffed. She unwound a thread of astonishingly fine silver wire from her wrist. So fine it was like a single filament — invisible to mortal eyes under the candlelight. Kunlun swiped two fingers across her own eyes before she could see that the silver wire stretched from Chuci’s hand all the way out the open window, pointing a clear path into the dark night.

“This little thing is called Silver Bind. It’s used for tracking silver, as the name suggests. I cast a little spell on the bundle. Follow it, and we’ll find that pilfering little thief. I’m curious to see just what sort of great being it is.”

“Where did this come from?”

“Oh,” Chuci said with an expressionless face. “This was tucked in your pack by Meng Zhaozhong. There’s all kinds of items in there, bottles and jars with their uses labeled on the outside. Must have been scavenged from his grandfather’s grandfather’s grandfather.”

For once, Kunlun was extraordinarily sharp. She caught Chuci’s hand and shook it gently left and right.

This was as close as it came to an act of coy compromise for her.

“I remember what I wanted to tell you,” Chuci declared, as if Kunlun’s shaking had brought a sudden moment of clarity. With a solemn expression, she said, “From now on, don’t keep getting lost in your memories. I don’t care whether you’re thinking about a past version of me. I am the only one who exists between heaven and earth right now.”

“Look at me,” she said. “I have something to tell you.”

Kunlun looked at her obediently, pressed her lips together, and asked in the most proper manner, “Should I close my eyes again?”

The coherent thoughts Chuci had just managed to string together were metaphorically cleaved in half by a single, devastating blow. She swallowed hard, her throat bobbing. “Do you want to?”

Kunlun’s lips moved wordlessly.

Yes.