[To Become a River of Stars] Dong Xiange - Chapter 83

Shiliu watched the figures of the two children, scratched her head, and turned to enter the inn.

She stood dazed at the entrance for a long while. By the time she went inside, Li Xuanci had already been led upstairs by the waiter, while Jin Zhan stayed behind at the counter to pay the bill.

The innkeeper greeted these clearly distinguished guests with great enthusiasm. Shiliu hurried over with eager, clattering steps, waiting excitedly.

But then she saw Jin Zhan hand a key to He Chong and tuck another into his own pocket—there was none for Shiliu.

Shiliu leaned over the counter, craning her neck as she asked expectantly, “What about mine? Where’s my key?”

Jin Zhan glanced down at her, clearly somewhat surprised. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then promptly closed it again, finally managing only, “This isn’t my responsibility. Go ask the Prince. You have a place to stay regardless.”

Shiliu frowned. Was she really supposed to dig money out from under the tiger’s claws? The Prince’s estate was vast and wealthy—how could they be so stingy?

But then she noticed the hesitant expression on Jin Zhan’s face and suddenly had an epiphany.

Could it be that she was supposed to continue sharing a room with Li Xuanci?

She absolutely did not want that.

Although they had already been intimate, Shiliu’s back ached and her body was sore. After a full day of travel, even her bottom felt numb from sitting. All she wanted was to sprawl freely across a bed; she had no interest in engaging in any further “intimacy” right now.

After a moment’s hesitation, Shiliu dug out a cloth pouch from a hidden corner of her robes, carefully counted out some silver fragments, and—as if parting with something precious—placed them on the counter to pay for her own single room.

Jin Zhan watched her pained expression with a complicated look on his face, sighing inwardly. This “cut-sleeve” propensity is truly unfathomable, he thought. Yesterday, they shared a bed, and today, they want separate rooms.

But Shiliu, having no memory of her earlier foolishness when she had shared a room with Li Xuanci, assumed that “sharing a room” necessarily meant “sharing intimacy.” Wanting a few more days to rest, she reluctantly parted with her silver to get her own room.

Key in hand, she happily headed upstairs, leaving behind one man sighing mournfully for his Prince and another inwardly cheering for his junior sect-sister.

Shiliu was pleased, but poor Jin Zhan still had to steel himself and report back. He pushed open the door to the largest room at the far end of the second floor. As expected, Li Xuanci’s expression remained cold, but with a touch of impatience.

“What is she dawdling about now?”

His slender fingertips traced the rim of the white-glazed porcelain cup, his touch light, but his brow was like gathering clouds before a storm, making one’s heart feel heavy.

Jin Zhan lowered his head, mentally steeling himself before speaking. “Daoist Shiliu… she has taken a single room.”

If the atmosphere had previously been merely overcast, it now grew heavy with impending rain.

Jin Zhan attempted to salvage the situation, whispering, “Perhaps it’s a Daoist practice… maybe Daoist Shiliu is temporarily fatigued…”

His unfinished words died under Li Xuanci’s gaze, which was as sharp as icicles in the deepest winter. Wisely, Jin Zhan fell silent and stood as still as a pillar.

“Let her be.” In the end, Li Xuanci only uttered these two cold words before dismissing Jin Zhan.

Once outside and around the corner, Jin Zhan finally dared to exhale the breath he had been holding. He Chong, who had been waiting nearby, watched the scene with amusement.

“Blockhead, do you know why your Prince is angry with you?”

Among his master’s disciples, He Chong was the youngest aside from Shiliu. While traveling, he had to manage affairs and thus acted more steady, but now his true nature emerged. Crossing his arms, he asked Jin Zhan in a teasing, hushed tone.

Jin Zhan pressed his lips together, looking about as talkative and loyal as the pillar beside him.

But He Chong smirked and continued in a low voice, “In our Daoist dual cultivation, there is both taking and replenishing. You said Shiliu was fatigued, but do you realize that emptiness and fatigue in a man indicate a deficiency in kidney essence? If those two were really, ahem, ‘cut-sleeves,’ wouldn’t that imply your Prince willingly takes the submissive role—”

Before the word “below” could escape his lips, Jin Zhan—wearing the expression of a widower who had lost his wife—clamped a hand over He Chong’s mouth. Even so, He Chong shook with muffled laughter. With a look of grim determination, Jin Zhan dragged him away, not daring to loosen his grip in the slightest.

The night passed surprisingly peacefully.

Shiliu was exhausted. She didn’t even order supper, merely washed up briefly before bundling herself in the blankets and falling fast asleep.

Short on funds, she had taken only a small room on the third floor. It was the top floor, facing west, and the residual heat from the day’s sun had not yet dissipated. Still, she slept deeply, her face flushed red under the covers.

But as the night wore on, she began to sweat profusely, and Shiliu started to dream.

In her dream, she seemed to be lying on her back, facing the sky but swaying unsteadily, unable to get up. The more she struggled, the heavier she felt.

After flailing her limbs for what felt like an age, she realized they had become short and stubby—and had turned green! Craning her neck, she discovered she had turned into a turtle—a turtle stuck on its back!

Shiliu attempted a hawk-like flip, but only succeeded in wobbling her shell pathetically. Resigned, she prepared to endure her fate as a sun-exposed turtle.

Just as she was giving up, the ground beside her trembled slightly. Looking up, she saw a pair of all-too-familiar black boots, the soles embroidered with an even more familiar cloud pattern, casting a shadow over her beady turtle eyes. In the next moment, they were about to stomp down on her plastron!

Li Xuanci, you bastard!

A moment before the impact, Shiliu woke up with a scream.

But reality seemed even worse than the dream. The room had become like a steamer, and choking tendrils of smoke coiled inside like poisonous vines. Through the cracks around the door, she could see the flickering of unruly tongues of flame.

Fire!

Shiliu leaped out of bed. Her first instinct was to shove the door open and escape, but she stopped herself. Instead, she grabbed the teapot from the table, tore off the tablecloth to wrap around herself, and poured the remaining tea over her head.

Then, she kicked the door open and fled.

Outside, the fire raged fiercely. Alone and trapped on the third floor, she was terrified—but in such a situation, hesitation was not an option. Biting the tip of her tongue to force clarity, she tried to find an escape route through the flames.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the dense smoke and roaring fire.

“Shiliu!”

For a moment, her face—flushed red by the firelight—stilled in surprise.

It was the first time he had ever called her by her name.