TSLSILMH Ch 33

Chapter 33

In that instant, Xie Shu’s breath caught.

The moment the Young Lord’s voice brushed softly against his ear, the moment his body leaned close, resting against his skin, Xie Shu’s whole frame stiffened. He could no longer feign sleep.

Almost at once, his eyes flew open.

In the clear stillness of the night, it was hard to see clearly, and yet he saw—those eyes of the Young Lord, luminous and deep as autumn waters.

At that moment, Xie Shu suddenly remembered—during excessive exercise, muscles often grew sore and tense. He had forgotten to warn the Young Lord, no wonder he had been unable to sleep.

Turning his head, he found Yu Chuxi flustered. In truth, Yu Chuxi had not known whether Xie Shu slept or not. But feeling aggrieved, he had acted on impulse. And now, having seen Xie Shu’s eyes open at once, he did not know if he should feel glad or mortified.

Yet quickly, he noticed that Xie Shu’s expression remained calm, his body only faintly rigid—otherwise, no visible response. He seemed utterly unmoved.

Yu Chuxi suddenly thought to retreat.

He understood. Even faced with such closeness, Xie Shu still would not cross the bounds. That proved—he harbored no feelings for him.

Once, Yu Chuxi had hoped to try again. Once, perhaps twice—yet what of the third time? Each refusal was not humiliation, for he knew this man was not one of those callous and unfaithful types found in romances and rumors. Xie Shu would never take advantage of his affections for his own conceit nor contempt.

Even so, Yu Chuxi still felt embarrassed. He was not shameless; he could not persistently entangle himself around someone who kept rejecting him—albeit kindly.

Thus, at this point, disheartened, Yu Chuxi suppressed the bitterness in his heart along with the ache of his limbs, turning his face away and preparing to roll back over, not wanting to meet that gaze again.

But then—a hand pressed gently, yet firmly, onto his calf, stopping him from pulling away.

Xie Shu no longer hesitated. When the Young Lord had stretched his leg toward him earlier, it had merely grazed his side, soft and light. He had not realized until grasping it now, even through the thin cloth, how delicate it felt beneath his palm.

When Yu Chuxi twitched, attempting to pull free, Xie Shu lowered his voice, explaining: “Young Lord, don’t be afraid. Your pain is from overexertion, the muscles too tense. There’s no time for heat compress now. Let me massage it—you’ll feel better.”

Then, seeing him still turned away, he coaxed softly: “Young Lord, put both legs on me.”

Yu Chuxi trembled all over. Looking back, in the darkness, he glimpsed Xie Shu’s gaze—it was not emotionless as he had feared, but carried a touch of pity.

Even pity was enough. He could not refuse.

As though bewitched, Yu Chuxi followed his instructions.

Xie Shu’s hands were hot as iron. Wherever they pressed, his skin shivered violently.

Soon the strain and soreness flared into sharp pangs; his brows furrowed and lips pressed tightly shut.

Xie Shu soothed him softly: “It’s all right, Young Lord. Once the tension eases, you’ll be fine.”

But Yu Chuxi could not endure. The soreness he’d had before was merely dull, but now, under that strong pressure, it was as though needles stabbed at his flesh. His strength could not match Xie Shu’s; he could not escape.

Breath short, he finally choked out, “Xie Shu, can’t you be gentler?”

Xie Shu looked at him helplessly, voice tender. “But if not heavier, you’ll still hurt tomorrow.”

But Yu Chuxi could not care. He could fetch the ointment Feng He had given him—but he would not.

Blinking through damp lashes, he whispered stubbornly, “I want you to be gentle.”

Xie Shu sighed inwardly. At last, he nodded, easing his strength until his touch was light, soft as moonlight.

Before long, Yu Chuxi drifted into slumber, leaning close against him. His black hair slipped silk-smooth against his shoulder, a faint trace of tears still glistening at his eyes, cheeks tinted with blush.

Xie Shu gazed upon him, smiling faintly, and pulled the quilt snug around him.

At dawn, clear birdsong rang through the trees outside.

Xie Shu awoke to warmth at his side. Looking down, he saw Yu Chuxi stirring. His long lashes quivered, eyes opening slowly—straight into Xie Shu’s steady, tranquil gaze. For a moment he froze, recalling what had happened last night.

Heat crept up his ears, though he had no time to speak before Xie Shu softly asked, “Young Lord, how do you feel now?”

Yu Chuxi moved his feet under the quilt. They were still weak, though better than the night before.

From his expression, Xie Shu understood, though he did not scold. Last night’s pain was not only the Young Lord’s fault. He too had not cared enough in preparation.

Thus he merely said, “We’re not returning until tomorrow. You should rest today.”

Yu Chuxi nodded. Indeed, he wished for nothing more than to stay in bed all day.

But then realizing how closely they lay, he retreated, burrowing into his quilt and shuffling a little aside.

Watching, Xie Shu laughed softly, then rose to dress, ready to call Feng He in for the morning.

As he pulled on his clothes, Yu Chuxi peeked out from the blankets, gazing at him in thought. He could no longer even recall how he had fallen asleep leaning against him last night—only that Xie Shu had not pushed him away.

When Xie Shu stepped outside, attendants were already waiting.

Seeing only Master Xie emerge, Feng He peered inside. “Young Lord has not risen yet?”

Xie Shu nodded. “Take good care of him. From climbing yesterday, his legs are still sore.”

She blinked in surprise. “Didn’t Master Xie apply the salve for him last night?”

Her eyes turned accusing, words sharp. “You’re the one who made Young Lord climb. He’s never suffered like this. Yet you couldn’t even pity him?”

Caught off guard, Xie Shu flushed, a guilt he could not quite explain weighing in him.

He opened his lips to respond, but Yu Chuxi’s voice came coolly from within: “Feng He, enough. Come inside.”

She sulked, ducking her head, and hurried in.

With the servants attending him, Xie Shu did not linger. After breakfast, with nothing pressing, he strolled about the monastery.

Qixia Monastery, built within the slopes of Mount She, basked now in the rising sun. Peaks glimmered gold under its glow. Following a small trail, Xie Shu climbed upward.

Soon he reached a mountaintop pavilion, clearly built for admiring the view.

Inside lay an unfinished game of go, black and white locked in deadlock.

Xie Shu, playing almost daily with Yu Chuxi, found himself intrigued. He stood still, mind tracing through the battle of stones.

The game had reached mid-stage. White, preparing to strike the lower right, had discovered black’s weakness below. Black countered, lunging at white’s central dragon, leaving white in peril. To save the center would leave the top vulnerable; to defend the top doomed the center.

How could white escape?

As he pondered, a familiar voice rose behind him. “Ha! Young friend, studying this board?”

Turning, Xie Shu recognized the elder from yesterday. Still dressed plainly, unremarkable in bearing.

Smiling, Xie Shu said, “I find this position interesting. My hands itch for play, but as this is another’s game, I dared not intrude.”

“Oh? To be honest, this was the very game between my friend and me. Do you truly know how white might break free?”

The old man’s eyes gleamed, half testing, half curious.

For last night, when he and Master Xuanzhen had played to this juncture, he had found himself cornered and refused to admit defeat. Claiming night had fallen, he postponed the game.

Yet even thinking long hours into the evening brought him no solution. Rising early today to study again, fate had instead led him to meet this same young man from yesterday.

Already, from Xuanzhen, he had learned Xie Shu’s name and background—and was surprised.

For Xie Shu was but a merchant’s son-in-law.

Had he not glimpsed him and his husband beforehand, Jiang Hong would have found only disdain. Yet after that one look—perhaps, he thought, there was room for exception…