7 Days CXS - 5

CHAPTER 5: Day Five

If Ouyang and I were to actually trade blows, speaking objectively, he wouldn't last thirty moves under my hands.

That said, if I beat him to death, I'd undoubtedly be dragged out to feed the dogs.

And if he beat me to death, I'd still get dragged out to feed the dogs.

Hence, while Ouyang was raring to go with eager anticipation, I was weighed down by hesitation.

The turning point arrived in an instant. The person who shattered the deadlock between Ouyang and me was none other than Shen Pian, calling out from afar:

"Second Brother, I brought the clothes you asked for over—oh, Qiqi, why are you here too?"

The target of murderous intent shifted instantly.

"What kind of tone is that? Pianpian, aren't you here as well?"

Ouyang squeezed those words out through gritted teeth, causing Shen Pian to instantly radiate a matching aura of pure murderous hostility.

Taking advantage of the distraction, I snatched the clothes from Shen Pian's grasp, darted over to the straw pile, scooped up Yin Cheng, grabbed my steamed buns, and swiftly relocated to the opposite end of the stable.

Ouyang got along famously with Eldest Brother, but he and Shen Pian couldn't stand the sight of each other. Thus, whenever he saw Shen Pian, he’d chirp in a delicate, teasing falsetto, "Pianpian~ Pianpian".

And while Shen Pian was universally adored everywhere he went, he harbored an equal dislike for Ouyang, routinely greeting him with a sweet-toned, melodious, "Qiqi~ Qiqi".

The pigsty sat at the farthest possible distance from the kitchen, with the horse stable positioned right dead-center between them.

I figured Eldest Brother must have assigned me to the stables not because Treading Snow loved me best, but purely to act as a buffer keeping this pair of mutual nemeses apart.

As I listened to them bickering away with no end in sight, figuring it would take hours for them to burn out, I lowered my head and gave Yin Cheng a reassuring pat on the back.

"Can you move? I'll help you get dressed."

Instead of looking at me, he didn't even have the energy to struggle, simply leaning against my shoulder with his eyes locked squarely on the two figures arguing in the distance.

"Th-That's the Seventh Young Master?"

I glanced up as well; Ouyang was standing in profile, so his features weren't entirely crystal clear. However, Ouyang was exceptionally handsome to begin with, and right now he was maintaining his usual glacial, icy demeanor. Combined with his massive renown in the jianghu, anyone who had crossed paths with him even once—or better yet, begged a favor of him—would easily recognize him without it being a stretch.

Yet hearing Yin Cheng blurt out that question made my heart sink yet again. In all his years wandering the jianghu, Ouyang's routine consisted entirely of either saving lives or purging the demonic path. Judging by Yin Cheng's scars, none of them were fresh or critical enough to warrant a divine physician's intervention, and a flower thief of all people wouldn't exactly have close connections with high-ranking righteous figures capable of petitioning Ouyang. Putting two and two together, the odds that Yin Cheng recognized him pointed overwhelmingly toward...

"It's him," I cleared my throat and answered, simultaneously reaching over to swivel his shoulder around so I could slip him into the spare set of servant's garments Shen Pian had brought over. He continued staring fixedly at Ouyang as if caught in a trance, completely docile and letting me handle him however I pleased, which drew a helpless sigh from me.

When he finally turned his gaze back to me, a fresh trace of hostility had crept back into his eyes.

"What are you trying to do?"

"Not a thing..." I muttered, smoothing down his lapels as I spoke. "Looking at you right now, you actually remind me a bit of Third Bro when he was a kid. He used to be so much more obedient than this—dressed wherever you told him to dress, went wherever you told him to go. Unlike nowadays, giving everyone a headache every single day and flirting with gilts down at the pigsty..."

He blinked in surprise, then whipped his head back around to stare at the pair again just as Shen Pian tossed his head, revealing his profile. That prompted yet another exclamation from Yin Cheng.

"Th-That's Shen Pian, the Third Young Master of Shen Manor?"

"Mm, that's him."

I answered while knotting his waistband.

He spun back around to look at me, though this time his expression was entirely stripped of hostility and murderous intent, replaced instead by sheer, unadulterated shock.

"Th-This is the Shen Manor?"

"You're lying to me."

He scrambled back a few paces, putting some distance between us with a face full of wariness.

I felt profoundly aggrieved. I had stated my background clearly the very moment I laid eyes on him, yet it wasn't until he laid eyes on Ouyang and Shen Pian that it finally clicked for him—and instead of realizing his own oversight, he turned around and accused me of lying. It felt genuinely unfair.

"Why would I lie to you?" I fished out my remaining steamed bun, broke it in half, and tossed a piece toward him. He caught it instinctively, looking as though he wanted nothing more than to fling it away, but having passed out for days on end, his body clearly remembered hunger. Hesitating for a moment, he took a bite, keeping his eyes locked on me the entire time as if trying to vet the truth of my words.

After a long while—by the time I'd finished off my half of the bun—he seemed to reach a silent verdict, and a lethal glint flashed through his eyes once more.

"You scoundrel, did you hire someone to put on a disguise just to trick me into letting my guard down?"

Why was he angry again?

I nearly choked on my final bite of bread as I watched Yin Cheng push himself to his feet, glaring down at me from above with a cold, mocking sneer.

"The Shen Manor is renowned across the righteous path, and I've held them in high regard since I was a child. It's just a pity that tricks like yours are utterly amateurish! How could a place like the Shen Manor ever harbor a shameless, depraved, vile scoundrel who preys on the vulnerable like you?!"

I mentally retraced the events: Ouyang was depraved, Shen Pian was vile, and Treading Snow was the one who had kicked him while he was down. As for myself, trying every scheme in the book to torment him, being called shameless wasn't entirely inaccurate either.

I couldn't help developing a shred of admiration for Yin Cheng. Having lived in the Shen Manor for so long, this was the first time I'd ever seen anyone summarize our collective character traits with such succinct, razor-sharp precision.

While I was secretly tipping my hat to him internally, Yin Cheng's final sentence dropped me straight back down into an abyss of despair.

"You Demonic Cult scum! Failing to take my life, you resort to these vile schemes trying to trick me into talking. Let me tell you—even if you kill me, you won't extract a single word from my lips!"

Demonic Cult?!

I felt a sudden, ominous shift in the atmosphere.

Swallowing hard, I found my throat drier than it had ever been before, and looked up at him: "Do you... have any idea who Shen Ke is?"

"Trying that trick again?" Yin Cheng sneered coldly. "Everyone under heaven knows who Young Miss Shen is; how could I possibly not know? Save your breath..."

His body swayed slightly as if exhaustion was catching up to him and he couldn't quite maintain his footing, though he quickly forced himself upright into an expression of utmost heroic defiance.

"If you're hoping to use Young Miss Shen's name to worm secrets out of me, keep dreaming! Since I, Yin Cheng, dared to execute one of your altar masters, how could I ever let myself be weighed down by such petty romantic attachments?!"

My jaw hung open for a solid stretch before I finally managed to squeeze out a single query:

"You aren't a flower thief?"

Yin Cheng flew into an absolute rage.

"Damn it, your whole family are flower thieves!"

Habits formed through slang can profoundly warp a person's life trajectory, often ruining a promising future.

Yin Cheng served as a prime textbook example.

As Ouyang analyzed it later, individuals blessed with natural beauty and delicate builds like Yin Cheng who practiced agile, flowing martial arts naturally felt compelled to adopt certain personas to project an aura of masculinity—such as wearing terrifying masks, peppering their speech with coarse vulgarities, or carrying around heavy books to hoodwink young maidens in the jianghu.

That final detail carried certain vague implications I preferred not to dwell on, though upon hearing it, Shen Pian flew into a towering rage, chased Ouyang all the way back to the kitchen, and engaged him in a broom-to-sword duel spanning hundreds of rounds before both were dragged out to feed the dogs by Eldest Brother—though that is a tale for another time.

At that exact moment, however, the only thing I could do was stand up, force a pained smile, and desperately attempt to wipe the cold sweat dripping down the back of my neck.

"A misunderstanding, a total misunderstanding... truly a misunderstanding."

With that, I fished a jade pendant out from my waistband and tossed it over to him.

"My apologies for the prior mix-up... this is indeed the Shen Manor, and this token belongs to us brothers. Have a look."

He caught the pendant out of the air, inspected it closely for a long while, and looked back up at me with an expression containing an even heavier layer of disdain.

"The Demonic Cult is truly going all out these days; to fool just one person, they even went so far as to forge this artifact..."

I was at the point of tears.

By dusk, the bickering duo had finally run out of steam and departed in opposite directions. Through my patient, earnest, and exhaustive rounds of persuasion, Yin Cheng finally came to accept the reality that everything thus far had simply been one massive, unfortunate misunderstanding. Even so, the way he kept gnawing on a steamed bun while eyeing me with lingering wariness left me feeling quite melancholy.

While he had freely disclosed his background and name, he kept his martial arts sect entirely under wraps, whereas I had already laid out our entire family tree down to the last detail. It was painfully clear that he still didn't fully trust me.

I figured my best bet was waiting until tomorrow when either Shen Pian or Ouyang dropped by so he could recognize a familiar face, which might finally prompt him to reveal his lineage.

Musing thus, I bent down to pick up the straw. The harrowing experience of nearly being buried alive earlier had evidently left a lasting trauma on Yin Cheng, causing him to instantly leap back three paces: "What are you doing?!"

"It's getting late, and your injuries haven't healed yet. Get some rest. Tomorrow I'll have Third Bro or Ouyang come over so you can meet them."

I forced my tone to sound as warm and amiable as humanly possible.

He stared at me, abruptly snatched the straw right out of my hands, and gave it a violent flick. The straw scattered through the air like falling blossoms, instantly claiming the safest and most comfortable patch of territory in the entire stable.

"If you really are part of the righteous path..." As he uttered the words righteous path, a cold, mocking smirk played across his lips, "...tonight I'm sleeping here, and you can go sleep over there!"

He jerked his chin toward a specific corner. Following the direction of his nod, I turned around—only to find myself locking eyes directly with Treading Snow.

The magnificent steed let out a disdainful snort and threateningly pawed the ground with a hoof.

When I turned back around, Yin Cheng was already lying flat on the straw with his back turned to me, his entire body rigid. I had the distinct impression that if I took even a single step closer in his direction, he would instantly spring back up and pierce me through with a glare like a sieve.

To put it simply, that night, I slept reasonably well.

Only about three of my ribs were kicked through or fractured.

--