WPCID 18: Token of Affection

Shen Zhou froze for a moment, his fingers slipping, only for Lu Buzhuo to pull them back.

“Why so surprised?” Lu Buzhuo pinched his hand lightly, speaking casually. “I remembered a bit of the past, but my mind’s still a mess… Let’s head into the city.”

Though it was early, the streets were already bustling with people.

Steam rose from the wonton stall, swirling with white mist.

Each of them had a bowl of wontons in front of them, with a packet of osmanthus milk cakes bought from the shop next door placed between.

Shen Zhou was genuinely hungry. He lifted his bowl and started slurping down the wontons.

A hand reached over, gently steadying the brim of his bamboo hat to keep it from dipping into the broth, then pushed the other bowl of wontons toward him.

“Eat more.”

Shen Zhou paused, sensing something off about Lu Buzhuo. They hadn’t been distant before—there were even more intimate moments—but this was different, like…

He couldn’t find the words, only feeling as if he’d become the wolf ears during ointment application, cherished and gently held in Lu Buzhuo’s hands.

His wolf ears twitched, but the hat held them down.

Shen Zhou set down his bowl, wiped his mouth, and asked suspiciously, “You said you remembered something from before. What exactly did you recall?”

“Not much.” Lu Buzhuo gazed at the towering city gate in the distance, answering absently. After a moment, he said, “Just that when I found you, you were tiny, sleeping in a burrow you’d dug in the snow. And…”

He paused, turning to look at the gate, his brow furrowing slightly.

If the memory of meeting Shen Zhou was real, and the ghost’s words were true, then he wasn’t just a wandering soul in this body, nor had he read some storybook. Every single event was his own experience.

Forcing dual cultivation, carving out a golden core, abandoning someone in a deadly place… Unforgivable. Lu Buzhuo mulled it over, puzzled. If that was true, why was Shen Zhou still at the bamboo grove when he awoke? Had he thrown him away only to pick him back up?

It didn’t add up.

And this city gate felt oddly familiar… as if he’d once stood closer, under a darker sky, heavy and oppressive, as if he could touch it with a raised hand.

…Right, there was a lantern.

The lantern swayed in the wind, its light glinting off a sword’s blade. The air was thick with the smell of blood, his vision swinging and shifting, occasionally blocked, with distant clamor rising from below.

Emotions surged with the fragmented memories, but they weren’t intense, nor was there fear. It was as if he’d only watched coldly from the sidelines back then, silently observing. After a long while, he sighed and said, Shen Zhou.

…

…

The scattered memories grew more chaotic, and Lu Buzhuo’s frown deepened. Suddenly, he was nudged.

Snapping back, he turned to see Shen Zhou, who had somehow come around to his side, his face clearly saying, “Are you sick again?”

“…I’m fine. I also remembered you eating all the pastries I bought, but nothing after that. Thinking about it gives me a headache.” Lu Buzhuo’s expression softened. He picked up an osmanthus cake, shaking it slightly, the chain on his wrist jingling crisply. “Want some?”

Shen Zhou glanced at him, leaned down, and ate it bite by bite from his hand, his tongue lightly brushing Lu’s fingers at the end.

Lu Buzhuo: “…??”

That snapped him fully back to reality. He pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his hand. “Who taught you to eat like that?”

Shen Zhou blinked. “You mind?”

Then pressed, “Why?”

Lu Buzhuo faltered. “Why what? It’s not clean…”

He trailed off.

Shen Zhou leaned in, lifting his hat to cover them both, and pressed his lips softly against Lu’s. Their warm, moist breaths mingled, his tongue grazing Lu’s lips, tasting the sweetness of osmanthus cake.

After the kiss, he whispered, “Not clean?”

Lu Buzhuo: “… …”

Up close, Shen Zhou’s features weren’t sharp—everything about him was soft, from his brows to his eyes, nose, and lips. Especially his eyes, like pools of cold ink, misty when softened, with a faint red flush at the corners.

The boy always radiated a lively warmth, and when he pressed close, it inexplicably felt reassuring.

Lu Buzhuo lowered his gaze, resting a hand on the back of Shen Zhou’s neck, gently pinching before leaning in for a light, fleeting kiss, then pulling back.

“People are watching,” he said, his thumb rubbing the corner of Shen Zhou’s eye, reddening the skin. After a moment of scrutiny, he kissed it again. “I was just talking nonsense—it’s not unclean. Once we find a place to settle, I’ll teach you more about being partners. How’s that?”

Shen Zhou, comfortable from the kiss, didn’t object and nodded.

From the first day of applying ointment to his wolf ears, he’d realized he liked being touched by Lu Buzhuo. The spots he touched would tremble, then warm slightly, feeling incredibly pleasant.

Even the demonic core in his qi sea would grow especially active, and over time, it could boost his cultivation.

The two kissed at the wonton stall, each lost in their thoughts, unaware that across the street, in a private room on the second floor of a tavern, someone nearly fell out of the window.

Xie Xianqing frantically tapped his communication jade tablet.

After a while, the other side finally answered: “What now?”

“Your senior brother, he…” Xie Xianqing swallowed, struggling to find words. After careful thought, he decided to be tactful. “He was just eating wontons with that demonic cultivator at the stall.”

“Didn’t pay?”

“They were eating and… their mouths ended up together.”

“…” A faint crack crack came from the other side, as if something had broken.

“You okay?” Xie Xianqing asked, concerned.

After a long pause, Chu Xuan’s voice came through: “I’m fine. My master’s the one with a problem.”

“Your master?” Xie Xianqing thought he’d misheard. “Didn’t your master ascend long ago?”

“The sect leader can’t leave the mountain without permission. I used a spirit-summoning ritual at my master’s grave, tossing coins all night, but he didn’t approve. Just now, his tombstone suddenly cracked…” Another clatter of coins, and Chu Xuan paused, seemingly caught off guard. “Hm? He agreed.”

Xie Xianqing: “…?”

Xie Xianqing: “So you’re coming down the mountain? Wait, by the time you get here, your senior brother might already be in bed with that demonic cultivator.”

“I’ll hurry,” Chu Xuan said calmly. “You try to stall them.”

“Stall? How? You know how fast Lu Buzhuo’s light-body talismans are. With his memory gone, if he’s set on staying with that demonic cultivator… Chu Xuan? Chu Xuan? Sect Leader Chu??” The line went dead, and Xie Xianqing, furious, threw the jade tablet down. “Bastard!”

Looking up, he realized the wonton stall was empty—they’d likely gone off to do something even more outrageous.

He hurriedly released his tracking night butterfly again, chasing after them as fast as he could.

When the glowing blue night butterfly flitted by for the third time, Lu Buzhuo remembered he owned a residence in Biancheng.

He led Shen Zhou through winding streets with familiar ease, heading to settle there.

The residence, maintained yearly by Chu Xuan’s orders through the Biancheng Taiping Branch, was kept clean and repaired, with even the couplets at the entrance replaced with new ones.

Neither of them—one barely literate, the other unaware of his age—noticed. They simply thought the place had little dust and was livable with minimal cleaning.

After tidying up, Shen Zhou found himself idle and noticed Lu Buzhuo was missing.

Searching around, he finally found him in the kitchen.

Lu Buzhuo, draped in white fox fur, stood lost in thought by the stove, the long chain hanging from his sleeve to the floor, covered in dust, yet he seemed entirely unbothered.

Shen Zhou stepped forward, tugging the chain. “What are you doing here?”

Lu Buzhuo turned, answering indirectly, “Shen Zhou, what’s your cultivation level now?”

Though puzzled, Shen Zhou replied, “…Foundation Establishment.”

Lu Buzhuo raised an eyebrow slightly.

Foundation Establishment? Where would a golden core come from? The sealed ghost in his spiritual platform was clearly spouting nonsense—one part truth, nine parts lies, not to be trusted. Those fragmented memories were likely influenced by the body’s lingering remnants, jumbled together.

Feeling relieved, he noticed Shen Zhou’s confused, swaying wolf ears and reached out to rub them.

The chain dangled in front of his eyes, swinging back and forth.

Shen Zhou, hit by it several times, frowned and grabbed the annoying chain. “I’ll take it off for you.”

Before he could finish, the chain was swiftly pulled away.

Lu Buzhuo weighed the chain in his hand, sensing that the soul in his spiritual platform could perceive it directly. It might be a treasure, potentially useful in the future. He said casually, “No, leave it. It makes me feel secure.”

Shen Zhou: “?”

Shen Zhou hesitated, about to speak.

“…” Realizing it sounded like he liked being chained, Lu Buzhuo cleared his throat, amending, “This is the first thing you gave me. Of course I’ll keep it—as a… token of affection.”

Shen Zhou: “???”