WPCID 48: May I Sleep Here?

Chu Xuan didn’t say if he would touch it or not.

Leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, he sized up the half-demon who had suddenly appeared at his door. He watched as one wolf ear, which was already folded down, was slowly joined by the other, both now drooping backwards.

“I can’t sleep here?” Shen Zhou confirmed again.

If Chu Xuan didn’t agree, he had nothing else to offer that was likable.

“You broke my sword,” Chu Xuan finally spoke, bringing up old scores the moment he opened his mouth. 

“And you stole it twice.”

Shen Zhou: “…”

Shen Zhou didn’t press the matter further and turned to leave.

“Come back,” Chu Xuan said from behind.

Shen Zhou turned his head and saw Chu Xuan step aside, leaving a gap. He tilted his chin up, “Come in.”

Shen Zhou was a little confused. But since Chu Xuan let him in, he entered the room with his bedding.

After looking around, he found there was no small couch to sleep on, so he spread his bedding on Chu Xuan’s bed, taking half.

The thought that he wouldn’t see the little paper figurine when he lifted the covers tomorrow made his wolf ears wag happily.

His happiness didn’t last long before a faint voice came from behind him again: “My bed isn’t that easy to sleep on.”

Shen Zhou: “?”

Shen Zhou pondered for a moment, then a look of realization crossed his face. He had plenty of spirit stones in his storage ring. He touched the surface of the ring, and a pile poured out with a “clatter.” “I won’t sleep here for free. Take it.”

“…I don’t want these.” Chu Xuan’s expression seemed to grow even colder. 

“Put them away. Go to sleep.”

Shen Zhou felt that this person named Chu was incredibly difficult to understand. He silently put the spirit stones away, pulled up the covers, and fell asleep facing the wall.

Soon, Shen Zhou learned what “my bed isn’t that easy to sleep on” meant.

The soundproofing in this room was a bit poor, and as it happened, someone in the next room liked to talk in their sleep.

Shen Zhou pretended not to hear, folding his wolf ears flat against his scalp, but the sleep-talking next door was truly a bit loud. It was endless, growing more and more outrageous, and the gaze from behind him felt increasingly like needles on his back.

One moment it was asking, “What kind of Dao companion do you actually like?” The next, it was mumbling, “When a child grows up, he doesn’t listen to his father, only knows how to use his status as Sect Master to pressure people.” After a brief moment of quiet, it suddenly said, “Your senior brother is already married, when do you plan on getting married?”

Shen Zhou: “…”

The wolf ears had been playing dead, but upon hearing this, they finally couldn’t hold back and shot up in shock.

Shen Zhou couldn’t pretend any longer either. He slowly turned over and came face to face with the very awake Sect Master Chu.

“You can still go back and share a bed with Senior Brother now,” Chu Xuan said calmly. 

“He’ll talk all night.”

The moonlight was beautiful tonight, filtering through the window and brightly illuminating half the bed.

Shen Zhou looked at him for a while, then suddenly said, “In that painting, what Xie Xianqing painted was your sword.”

Chu Xuan raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond, waiting for him to continue.

“But he doesn’t like your sword,” the half-demon said in confusion. 

“He wants to be Dao companions with you? Why? He’s clearly such a good person.”

“I don’t know,” Chu Xuan was indifferent.

“Then do you want to be Dao companions with him?”

“I don’t know.”

The sleep-talking from next door continued. Shen Zhou fell silent.

After a long while, unable to contain his curiosity, he sat up and nudged Chu Xuan, who seemed to be asleep, and asked, “Xie Xianqing is so good, why can’t you even figure out if you want to be Dao companions with him?”

Chu Xuan wasn’t asleep. He opened his eyes at the touch and glanced sideways at him.

“Senior Brother is so good, yet you can’t figure out whether you want to continue being Dao companions with him either, can you?”

Shen Zhou lay back down, gazing at the embroidered canopy above the bed. His tone wasn’t particularly cold as he said, “I have no intention of continuing to be Dao companions with Lu Buzhuo.”

The moment the words left his mouth, he felt a touch on his wolf ear.

“It’s drooping,” Chu Xuan’s voice seemed to be right by his pillow, inescapable, each word like a small hammer tapping gently on his heart. 

“Next time you tell a lie, remember to hide your ears.”

“…” Shen Zhou instinctively shrank under the covers, then poked his head out to argue, “They’re supposed to be down when I’m sleeping.”

“I told you, Senior Brother didn’t want to kill you,” Chu Xuan was more patient on this matter. 

“So you have no reason to keep ignoring him. You will make up.”

Shen Zhou suddenly felt that the sleep-talking next door wasn’t so annoying after all. He reached up and touched his droopy wolf ear. After a moment, he turned his head, “Hurt is hurt. If hurt feelings can heal, then why have you never used that sword again?”

The room fell silent.

Only Xie Xianqing’s sleep-talking echoed, and by the end, only the name “Chu Xuan” remained.

It’s unknown who fell asleep first, but the other slowly drifted off as well.

In a state of half-sleep, Shen Zhou felt someone move his pillow, pull out the wolf ear that was trapped underneath, and gently smooth its messy fur, placing it in a safe and comfortable spot.

“It’s different,” the man’s voice was clear and pleasant. 

“I no longer use that sword. But why do you still wear the earring Senior Brother gave you?”

…

The moon set, the stars faded, and the sky gradually brightened.

When Shen Zhou woke up, the space beside him was already empty. Chu Xuan had to return to Little Yin Peak to handle some sect affairs and always rose early; he would come back in the afternoon.

Breakfast was on the table: steaming hot soft tofu pudding and lard pancakes.

Xie Xianqing’s cooking skills weren’t so advanced as to cover everything; these were likely from the sect disciples’ dining hall. Still, it was very thoughtful of him to go get them so early in the morning.

Shen Zhou got up, washed up, and sat at the table to eat his breakfast.

He had been eating well recently. His cheeks had filled out a bit, his hair was much darker and smoother, and his clothes all fit properly, no longer dragging on the floor.

As he was eating, he suddenly felt something was off.

…

This was Chu Xuan’s room. Why would Xie Xianqing deliver breakfast here??

He put down the lard pancake and went out the door.

Sure enough, a familiar figure was leaning against the doorway, draped in fluffy white mink fur. His face was pale and bloodless, his lips dry and wrinkled. He looked even thinner than before, so thin he was almost just a bag of bones.

Seeing him come out, he smiled and asked, “Is breakfast to your liking?”

Shen Zhou stood for a long moment, carefully looking Lu Buzhuo over from head to toe. He answered with a completely different question, “Xie Xianqing just lets you run around like this?”

“I wanted to see you, so I came,” Lu Buzhuo also looked at him carefully. 

“There’s something I want to say to you.”

Shen Zhou pursed his lips and folded his wolf ears to show he didn’t want to listen. He shut the door with a “bang,” out of sight, out of mind.

But he stood before the closed door, not leaving. A faint light filtered through the cracks in the door, illuminating his cheek.

Soon, Lu Buzhuo’s voice drifted in through the cracks, drilling into his ears, impossible to block: “A few days ago, you left many trees and myna birds in my spiritual platform. Will you come back again?”

For the first time, Shen Zhou felt he had too many ears.

“I’m not coming back,” he answered through the door.

“Then I’ll keep them for you,” the person outside said, as if they were having two different conversations. 

“So you’ll be more comfortable next time you come.”

After a while, the sounds outside completely disappeared. He must have left.

Shen Zhou went back to continue his breakfast.

After two bites, his throat felt blocked, and he couldn’t swallow the food. His mood turned terrible, much worse than when he was being harassed by the little paper figurine.

It must be because Lu Buzhuo brought this food.

So he didn’t force himself to finish.

Shen Zhou usually didn’t make his bed, but Chu Xuan did. He knew he should follow the customs of the house when staying in someone else’s room. After giving up on breakfast, he folded the quilt into a crooked block of tofu and placed it to the side.

After tidying the bed, he wanted to find Xie Xianqing to do some chores. His hand had just touched the door when he pulled it back. After a moment of hesitation, he left through the window.

Unfortunately, there was already someone in Xie Xianqing’s room.

Lu Buzhuo sat at the table with his back to the window, his head propped up drowsily. On the stove next to him, a porridge with a strong medicinal aroma was cooking. Xie Xianqing, with a look of displeasure, lifted the lid and added a bottle of powder.

Then, with a “clang,” he slammed the lid back on, chipping a corner.

Shen Zhou, hiding under the window, was startled. He composed himself, pushed down his raised wolf ears, and continued to eavesdrop.

Lu Buzhuo lifted his eyelids, looking as if he couldn’t stand him. 

“Keep it down,” he said weakly. 

“I just woke up not long ago, my head still hurts. If you scold me a couple more times, I’m afraid I’ll pass out right on the table.”

Xie Xianqing grew even more annoyed: “You’re aware you just woke up? Your Sea of Qi is damaged, your spiritual platform is in chaos, and there isn’t a single good spot on your entire body. I was gone just for a trip to the warehouse, and the moment I took my eyes off you, you snuck out of Shuyu Peak to fight for food with the outer sect disciples in their dining hall!”

“It’s not like I died,” Lu Buzhuo said nonchalantly. 

“They’re pretty fast at snatching food. The future of our Kunlun Ruins is promising.”

“Don’t think I don’t know you eagerly delivered that breakfast to Shen Zhou.” Xie Xianqing paused, unable to help himself. 

“Ancestor, can’t you just rest for a few days before causing trouble?”

“No,” Lu Buzhuo said seriously. 

“Never mind a few days, even if I was late by one meal, Shen Zhou would ignore me forever.”

“So, did he talk to you?”

“He said a few words to me at the door.” He looked quite proud.

Xie Xianqing: “…”

Lu Buzhuo: “Don’t worry, I know my limits. Didn’t I come right back to you after delivering the food?”

Xie Xianqing was defeated.

He sighed, added two more heart-clearing and calming pills to the stove to burn, and said, “Why is your Sea of Qi damaged? Weren’t you just pulled into the punishment sword as a soul?”

“Because of the evil soul.” Lu Buzhuo disliked the smell and was choked into a coughing fit by the smoke. He frowned, his dizziness worsening, his voice as faint as a wisp of smoke. 

“That evil soul took the opportunity to escape the punishment sword. It had already gotten far away but came back, trying to seize my body. Then the punishment sword, without distinguishing right from wrong, pierced through my Sea of Qi with one strike and killed the evil soul. …Do you have a bed here? Let me lie down for a while.”

“It’s a good thing, in a way. Although you’ve lost your Sea of Qi and won’t reach a very high cultivation level in the future, at least that menace has been eliminated,” Xie Xianqing said. 

“The bed is behind you.”

“Is that so?” Lu Buzhuo stood up dizzily and picked a random direction, not forgetting to spout nonsense, “That one sword strike nearly ruined me, a genius formation cultivator. If the Founding Ancestor had a spirit, he’d probably be slapping his thigh in regret and wanting to snap that broken sword.”

Xie Xianqing: “.”

Xie Xianqing: “Wait, that’s the win—”

A pair of wolf ears suddenly shot up from under the window.

Xie Xianqing shut his mouth.

Lu Buzhuo reached out and felt the edge of the windowsill. Although he thought the edge of this bed was a bit high, he didn’t think much of it and relaxed, letting himself fall backward.

It wasn’t the soft bed he had imagined, but another familiar kind of softness, accompanied by the feeling of falling as if stepping on air. Before Lu Buzhuo had time to remember what it was, he completely passed out.

Shen Zhou, squatting under the window, had caught him.

The scent of bamboo was faint, so faint that only a trace remained. He hadn’t smelled it at the door earlier; it turned out it wasn’t because the smell of the lard pancake was too strong.

The white mink fur was as soft as ever. He buried his face in it and nuzzled it, hearing Lu Buzhuo let out a low “mm” by his ear, murmuring, “Shen Zhou.”

But the person didn’t wake up.

After burying his face for a while, a head poked out from above the window: “Excuse me, please return my patient.”

Shen Zhou carried the person back into the room and found a stool to sit on.

The medicinal porridge was just ready. Xie Xianqing ladled out a bowl and looked at him, “Do you want some? I didn’t have time to prepare breakfast for you this morning. Eat some of this to fill your stomach.”

Shen Zhou leaned over and sniffed it. He wrinkled his nose at the bitterness and shook his head.

“I’ve eaten.”

“Oh, you’ve eaten,” Xie Xianqing understood. 

“How was it?”

“Not that great.”

“I told you he was wasting his effort,” Xie Xianqing said. He then looked up and saw Shen Zhou with his head down, seemingly pondering something, so he added a few more words. 

“Given Lu Buzhuo’s current condition, I’m afraid he doesn’t have many years left to live. Even if you’re really angry, don’t torment him anymore. Just make things clear and let him give up.”

Shen Zhou was silent for a moment, then took Lu Buzhuo’s bowl of porridge and had a spoonful.

A very indescribable bitterness slid down his throat, much worse than it smelled, but after swallowing, it wasn’t so unacceptable.

He put down the bowl: “I’m not tormenting him.”

Xie Xianqing didn’t say anything more. He took the porridge from in front of him and brought it to the bedside to feed Lu Buzhuo.

Shen Zhou once again felt that sense of being vaguely unwelcome, like a small thorn embedded in his flesh. He usually didn’t feel it, but it became uncomfortable upon contact.

His wolf ears slowly drooped.

After Xie Xianqing finished feeding the porridge, he suddenly spoke: “Do you regret saving me?”

“…No.”

“You do regret it.” Shen Zhou’s expression turned cold, and a sour feeling rose in his heart, like the sting of licking a green tangerine, with a hint of bitterness. Then he felt it was only natural.

This wasn’t his home.

Nowhere was.

“Is there an empty bed?” Shen Zhou asked again.

“Lu Buzhuo will be moving out,” Xie Xianqing said. 

“I’ve prepared another room for him to rest and recuperate.”

Having received a definite answer, Shen Zhou got up and left.

Before returning to his room, he first went to Chu Xuan’s room to bring back his own bedding.

Lu Buzhuo’s bedding had already been cleared away. Shen Zhou stood blankly by the bed for a moment, then shook his quilt out with force, spreading it down and blowing away the lingering scent of bamboo.

A small paper figurine, tucked away somewhere, was blown into the air. It spun in midair and landed gently on his wolf ear.

Shen Zhou folded the tip of his wolf ear down slightly to support the paper figurine, then reached up and took it.

The paper figurine was dirty and smudged with ink, looking garish and very ugly. It seemed to be the one that had been hiding in the pastry box that day.

Shen Zhou looked at it for a while, then hid this little paper figurine under his own pillow.

Night fell.

Shen Zhou lit a lamp, holding the heavenly-script-like medical book that Xie Xianqing had casually handed him a few days ago. He painstakingly read it word by word, sentence by sentence, to lull himself to sleep.

It was very quiet all around, so quiet it was a little lonely.

Suddenly the door opened, and a slightly warm night breeze rushed in, carrying a hint of autumn night’s restlessness.

Shen Zhou looked up.

“I couldn’t find my room. I saw the light on here and came over to have a look.” Lu Buzhuo was standing at the door holding his bedding. His gentle eyes, like spring willows, blinked once as he asked, “Excuse me, may I sleep here?”