7 Days CXS - 4

 CHAPTER 4: Day Four

The divine physician's forecast proved accurate once more as Yin Cheng fluttered his eyes open early the next morning. Just as I managed to dig him out from beneath the pile of straw—before I even had a chance to relocate him elsewhere to free up space for Treading Snow—our gazes collided head-on.

It was my first time locking eyes with him quite like this, and it was then I realized that despite being a flower thief, his martial arts were by no means weak. The chilling, murderous aura flashing through his eyes was enough to send a sharp shudder even through me.

Unlike the day before, he didn't fly into an immediate rage or start hurling insults. Instead, he simply fixed his gaze on me without blinking once, making me feel increasingly guilty under the scrutiny.

After a long silence, he finally spoke, his tone casual yet his pitch chillingly cold:

"Scoundrel."

I instinctively answered, "Coming."

The look in his eyes instantly grew even frostier.

I wanted to slap myself twice.

Awkward as it was, the business at hand still had to be attended to.

I scooped him up horizontally and carried him to the other side of the stable, where I had previously laid out my own outer robe. Though it wasn't as soft as a bed of straw, it was certainly better than letting him lie stark naked directly on the damp earth.

Though his acupoints hadn't been sealed, whatever concoction Ouyang had administered the day before left his limbs hanging limply, clearly devoid of strength. Exactly what was going on would have to wait until Ouyang arrived to deliver a verdict.

After laying him flat, I figured it looked rather unseemly for a grown man to be lying there completely bare, so I went ahead and unbuttoned the remainder of my own upper tunic—after all, I'd soon need to wash up Treading Snow, and going shirtless made little difference.

Yet the moment he saw me strip off my outer garment, the murderous intent in Yin Cheng's eyes intensified twofold.

"Scoundrel, to humiliate me so today—this debt, I, Yin Cheng, will return a hundredfold in the future!"

He growled through gritted teeth, leaving me frozen with the clothes in my hands.

He had evidently misunderstood, but this misunderstanding presented a rather difficult predicament.

If he lay there radiating an attitude of unyielding defiance and I didn't follow through, it would make the Shen Manor look entirely too lenient with its enemies. Once word got out, not to mention how I'd show my face in the jianghu, even the Shen Manor would become a laughingstock. On the other hand, if I did follow through, I figured Ouyang alone would slice me into pieces and drag me out to feed the courtyard dogs.

I was deeply torn.

In the end, I devised a compromise that neatly resolved this headache.

It spared him any further distress, kept me out of trouble, and would even sound remarkably proper if word ever got out.

I truly outdid myself.

By the time I returned with a bucket of water, I found that Ouyang had already arrived, currently stroking Treading Snow's mane. Upon seeing me, he still wore that aggrieved, bitter expression of a creditor, casually tossing two steamed buns my way. I set down the bucket, leaped up to snatch the buns out of the air, stuffed half of one into my mouth, and eyed him: "What brings you here?"

He began talking about everything except the point.

Deciding to ignore him, I placed the remaining bun on the nearby railing to save for a midday snack, picked up the water bucket, and shouted out to prepare for wiping down Treading Snow.

"I came to talk to you about that beauty."

Seeing me pay him no mind, Ouyang actually grew somewhat impatient; although his expression remained full of disdain, his tone softened considerably.

"What about him?"

I couldn't help my curiosity.

"The art of healing is nothing more than looking, listening, inquiring, and feeling the pulse," he said, shaking his head with a self-satisfied air. "Yesterday, I gave him a thorough, head-to-toe examination. Not a single inch was left uninspected..."

In truth, ever since yesterday, I'd been thinking that this leering fellow looked far more like a flower thief than Yin Cheng ever did.

I snorted, picking up the brush to comb Treading Snow's mane. "And?"

He dropped his voice into a mysterious whisper:

"I suspect he's a member of the Demonic Cult."

The horsehair brush in my hand slipped with a sharp clack onto the ground.

Actually, as I was falling asleep last night, I'd been pondering the situation. Although Yin Cheng had a rather fiery temper, he had only broken into the manor without managing to pull anything off—he merely possessed the heart and gall of a thief, and since he was already injured, letting him suffer a bit of hardship ought to be punishment enough. Handing him over to Eldest Brother to be "chopped into pieces and fed to the dogs" felt like an absolute waste of such a gorgeous face.

When Ouyang had previously gazed at him with infatuation, I'd felt a quiet sense of gladness on his behalf. If Ouyang took an interest, given his standing with Eldest Brother, requesting a captured flower thief to take back wouldn't be a big deal at all. Snatching a path to survival trumped everything else.

Yet the moment Ouyang uttered those words, it was equivalent to a thunderclap striking a clear sky.

The Shen Manor had always served as a minor pillar of the righteous path, swearing a life-and-death opposition against the Demonic Cult. Leaving aside myself, even Shen Pian and Shen Ke had campaigned against the cult on multiple occasions. If Yin Cheng truly belonged to the Demonic Cult, then even if ten Ouyangs joined forces to serenade Eldest Brother's ears, they wouldn't salvage half his life.

"Do you have proof?" I steadied my nerves and asked.

Ouyang rubbed his chin, a look of immense yearning spreading across his face.

"Having traveled the jianghu for all these years, I've never laid eyes on anyone whose skin is as fair as his—finer than any maiden's flesh, with a complexion that is simply exquisite..."

"...So?"

"That's just it." Ouyang looked at me as if stating the most obvious truth in the world. "If he weren't from the Demonic Cult, constantly hiding away in the dark shadows to practice his arts, how else could anyone cultivate such tender, flawless skin?"

I stared at him for a moment, fished out the leftover half-bun from earlier, and tossed it at him. He caught it with a flick of his hand, took one look, and discarded it with utter disgust.

"What are you playing at?" he snapped while wiping his hands as though I were filthy.

I picked up the brush and resumed grooming Treading Snow.

"Didn't you say he's from the Demonic Cult?"

"Huh?"

"If you're that fond of them, there happens to be a Demonic Cult leader right over there." I jerked my chin in a certain direction.

Resting on the railing nearby was the other untouched bun—plump, white, and irresistibly tempting.

Ouyang and I glared at each other in a stalemate for a moment until he likely realized he was in the wrong, backing down and starting to gaze about himself again.

"Speaking of which, where did you hide the beauty?" He circled the area. "He wasn't in sight when I walked over."

"Ah, hold on a second."

I set the brush aside, soothed Treading Snow, wiped my hands on my trousers, walked past Ouyang, and stopped beside the pile of straw at his feet. I began pushing the straw aside heap by heap until Yin Cheng was finally uncovered.

Previously, to prevent any misunderstandings, I had simply buried him under the straw so outsiders wouldn't see him or jump to wild conclusions—which was for the best, both for him and for me.

However, uncovering him now brought an unexpected shock. Yin Cheng, who had been glaring with icy, murderous intensity before I buried him, was now completely covered in straw chaff from head to toe. His face was flushed crimson, his eyes swimming with tears, and the moment he was exposed, he broke into a fit of choking coughs, his breathing ragged and shallow.

Perhaps I'd piled on a bit too much straw.

I felt a twinge of guilt. At that moment, Yin Cheng lifted his tear-filled eyes toward me, his voice reduced to a feeble whisper:

"Just... just kill me..."

Before the words faded, he closed his eyes, two clear streams of tears tracing down his cheeks, looking even more desolate and heart-wrenching than before.

"What did you do to him?!"

I couldn't help shivering.

Whether Yin Cheng genuinely wanted me to kill him remained a mystery; but I knew with absolute certainty that Ouyang, standing right behind me, likely wanted to kill me at that very moment.

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