Don't Pick Up Disciples Randomly by the Roadside - Chapter 3

The young man lifted one leg and propped it against the table leg, tilting his stool with an air of utter nonchalance. “Yes,” he said.

 

Then he grinned mischievously. “Didn’t you already know that?”

 

Shen Chunyi pretended not to hear the latter part of his remark and simply replied, “Then you should also realize that I don’t need any help.”

 

The young man immediately twisted the truth. “But I’ve been secretly following you for days. If you won’t take me in, wouldn’t all my efforts be in vain?”

 

Shen Chunyi found it almost laughable. “Why should I take you in just because you’ve been following me?”

 

Such bandit logic. The young man enunciated clearly, circling back to his original point. “Because I can help you achieve what you want to do.”

 

Shen Chunyi turned his head away, refusing to look at him. “I don’t need it.”

As they spoke, the tea server approached with a pot of steaming hot tea, placing a cup in front of Shen Chunyi. Just as he was about to set another in front of the young man,

 

Shen Chunyi stopped him. Shen Chunyi’s expression was neither dark nor bright, but his tone was firm. “He doesn’t need one. Judging by how energetic he’s been all the way here, he doesn’t seem thirsty at all.”

 

It was a clear gesture of dismissal. Sitting across from him, the young man blinked in confusion. “Why?”

Shen Chunyi lowered his gaze and spoke gently. “The road is long and treacherous, and it’s getting late. You’re still young—you should head home early.”

 

The young man glanced out the window at the blazing sun, stubbornly demanding an answer. “Why?”

 

He pressed, “Why won’t you take me?”

 

To an outsider, it sounded like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum, pleading for some flashy trinket or sweets that would rot his teeth. Such unreasonable fussing was common—children knew that no matter how much they cried, their elders would never truly cast them out.

 

Once they’d had their fill of drama, they’d wipe their tears, take their elder’s hand, and go home as if nothing had happened. So why not make a scene?

But Shen Chunyi knew this wasn’t the case.

He fell silent for a moment before saying, “I…”

 

The young man cut him off abruptly. “I don’t have a home.”

“I have no parents. My master picked me up. If even he doesn’t want me, I have nowhere to go.”

 

Shen Chunyi’s heart skipped a beat. If not for the fact that he couldn’t squeeze out a single tear, the young man’s accusation would have been a tearful lament. “I’ve wandered outside for so long. No one likes me, and no one takes me in. It took me forever to find this place.”

 

The tea server’s hand slowed as he poured, glancing between Shen Chunyi and the empty cup in his hand, unsure whether to set it down or not. What kind of adult would truly abandon a child over a petty argument?

 

This was far too heartless! Many travelers were present, and quite a few were parents themselves. The young man’s pitiful plea was loud enough to draw the attention of nearby patrons, who turned to listen. Realizing it was a family dispute, they couldn’t help but feel sorry for the child. Some kind-hearted souls had already begun whispering and pointing:

 

How could an elder hold a grudge against a child?

 

The boy looks so well-behaved! At such a young age, what unforgivable crime could he have committed?

After a long silence, Shen Chunyi finally spoke. “I don’t have a home either.”

 

He said, “I’m a wandering Taoist with no place to return to. If you follow me, you’ll only end up starving nine times in three days.”

 

The youth seemed inexplicably well-acquainted with Shen Chunyi. As soon as he spoke, he knew— Shen Chunyi had softened!

Because if Shen Chunyi were truly displeased, in such a context, he would have responded like this: What does it matter to me whether you have a home or not?

Go wherever you like, find someplace cool to stay.

 

At this moment, the youth suddenly had an epiphany and learned to seize the opportunity. With a pitiful look in his eyes, he said, “I won’t even eat three meals a day. Master can take the bed, and I’ll just sleep on the floor beside it. It’s very economical.”

 

Shen Chunyi finally couldn’t take it anymore. He waved his hand, signaling the tea server to place a cup in front of the youth, and resignedly said, “Fine, fine, pour him a cup.”

In broad daylight, he didn’t want to be saddled with the reputation of being someone who only brings life into the world but doesn’t care for it, or who kills but doesn’t bury the dead.

 

Seeing Shen Chunyi relent, the youth chuckled softly. He took the teacup handed to him by the server and, indifferent to the scalding hot water, held the bottom of the cup, twirling it playfully in his hand for a moment before leisurely setting it down.

 

As the poem goes:

A thousand lanterns shine like the sun,

Candle smoke fills the azure clouds.

In the capital’s eternal peace,

The starry night is nowhere to be seen.

 

In the capital, the streets are never empty, bustling with people at all hours of the day.

As the sun sets in the west, the evening crowds show no signs of fatigue. Some hurry home, while others open new shops, ensuring neither task is neglected. On one side, small lantern-lit stalls; on the other, towering taverns and restaurants—all arranged in an elegant, staggered fashion.

Though the sun still stubbornly casts a faint golden glow on the horizon, the shops and stalls along both streets have already lit their ornate lanterns early, lest passing patrons mistake their signs and enter the wrong establishment.

 

In the early autumn, the air carries a lingering warmth. A waiter, dressed in a split-front robe, tossed a coarse cloth towel over his shoulder and gestured haphazardly up and down, shouting at the worker on the ladder to straighten the lantern.

 

The worker, nimble and efficient, climbed the ladder and replied, “Got it, got it. How many years have I been hanging these? Do you think I’d hang it crooked? Go back to the front hall. If a customer comes and can’t find you, don’t blame me when the manager scolds you.”

 

The waiter, a wooden toothpick dangling from his lips, flicked it up and down as he muttered, “Fine, fine, I’ll go. My good intentions wasted on the ungrateful.” He grumbled under his breath, “Who’s going to come at this hour? It’s neither midday nor evening.”

 

Before he could finish his sentence, two figures strode briskly through the front entrance.

 

The one in front wore a plain white robe with wide sleeves, holding a silk-fan folded in his hand. A long sword was strapped to his back, and his posture was upright, almost to the point of appearing slender. His hair was loosely tied in a low ponytail, not too tightly bound, giving him an inexplicably cool and ethereal air, like a refreshing breeze.

 

His features were strikingly sharp—his eyes and the tips of his eyebrows arched upward like unsheathed blades, exceptionally handsome and refined, even to the point of appearing severe. It was the kind of sharpness that could make others feel intimidated at a single glance. When he looked up, a subtle hint of the whites below his pupils—often overlooked—became visible.

 

When he lowered his gaze, his eyes would drop without tilting his head. Such features would seem cold and unfeeling if he weren’t smiling, but this person’s expression was gentle. Even when not speaking to anyone, the corners of his eyes curved slightly, making him appear less difficult to approach.

 

The one behind him wore a black robe embroidered with gold, the fabric looking exceedingly luxurious. Golden and silver threads were intricately woven into flamboyant patterns, with fine, dense stitching extending from the hem all the way to the collar. Bathed in the twilight, he shimmered with a golden glow, resembling a wealthy young master from a prominent family. A dark, gleaming longbow was slung across his back. Though he appeared quite young, he stood noticeably taller than the one in front.

 

This youth in black robes had features as deep and striking as ink paintings—exquisitely beautiful, dazzlingly gorgeous. His peach-blossom eyes shimmered, the inner corners sharp and curving downward, the outer corners seductively hooked upward. When he looked at someone, there was an innate sense of mischief, always giving the impression that he might reach out and grab their neck the next second.

 

This youth also liked to smile. When his eyes narrowed, they curved like gentle waves, revealing two symmetrical canine teeth that added a touch of childishness. Yet, not a hint of his sinister aura was diluted by this smile, making him appear quite difficult to get along with.

 

The streets were bustling with people, but finding two individuals with such striking appearances was exceedingly rare. Seeing that customers had actually arrived, the waiter quickly flung his cloth towel over his shoulder and greeted them with a smile, asking, “Will you be ordering food or staying the night?”

“Staying the night.”

 

Shen Chunyi lifted his sleeve to take out money.

 

The waiter rubbed his hands together eagerly. Observing that the two were dressed like wealthy clients with money to burn, he immediately beamed with delight. “How many rooms?”

 

“Two rooms,” Shen Chunyi replied.

 

“One room,” the youth said simultaneously.

 

Shen Chunyi paused, turning his head expressionlessly to look at him. The youth blinked innocently and said, “I was kicked out and left in a hurry, penniless. Since I still need Shizun to pay, I shouldn’t take up an extra room. I can just sleep on the floor.”

 

Shen Chunyi was no longer as extravagant as he had been during his tenure at Taiwu Mountain, but he was far from being so destitute that he couldn’t afford an extra room for one more person.

 

 

He turned back and said gently, “Two rooms. It’s just one extra room—I can afford it.”

 

Having feigned enough earlier, the youth now began acting shamelessly. “One room. I’ve already caused Shizun enough trouble; how could I let him spend more?”

 

Shen Chunyi replied indifferently, “You’re truly considerate.”

 

“Not at all, not at all.”

 

The youth’s insincere smile looked as if it had been carved from the same mold as Shen Chunyi’s, though on Shen Chunyi’s face it appeared gentle and warm, while on the youth’s it seemed full of mischief. “It’s only what a disciple should worry about.”

 

Shen Chunyi turned away without continuing the argument. He placed several silver ingots on the table and said, “One room, not sure how long we’ll stay. We’ll settle the difference later.”

 

The waiter glanced at the dazzling golden ornaments adorning the youth’s attire, then caught a glimpse of the impatience barely concealed beneath Shen Chunyi’s smile. He took the silver ingots, weighed them in his hand, and concluded that these two were likely not short on money.

 

Though it wasn’t his place to ponder the guests’ intentions, he felt it necessary to clarify for the sake of his establishment: “One room is fine too. Our beds are spacious—two people can toss and turn freely on one.”

 

With that, he buried his head in the ledger, clattering away on the abacus for a while, muttering and reciting the multiplication table forwards and backwards before jotting down a number to show Shen Chunyi. Without waiting to see if Shen Chunyi understood, he tucked away his sweat towel and led them upstairs.

 

The staircase wasn’t particularly long. The room Shen Chunyi had requested was located along the corridor, and they soon arrived at the door. Pushing it open, a clean, modest room came into view. The furnishings inside were neither sparse nor excessive. The waiter hadn’t lied—the bed was more than enough for two people. Shen Chunyi estimated it could comfortably fit three.

 

By the window stood a low table, neatly arranged with teacups and saucers. A hemp rug covered the floor, with several woven rush cushions stacked beside it. Against the wall was a dressing table, complete with a bronze mirror, a cosmetics case, and a wooden comb placed neatly alongside. Further in, a folding screen stood stacked against the wall, behind which were bathing essentials like a wooden tub and basin—everything one might need.

 

Seeing that neither of them seemed dissatisfied, the inn attendant made to leave but was suddenly stopped by Shen Chunyi, who said, “Also, bring an extra set of bedding and a pillow.”

 

The attendant and the youth exchanged puzzled glances.

Shen Chunyi pointed at the youth. “He’ll sleep on the floor.”

 

The attendant nodded repeatedly, flicked his cloth towel, and hurried downstairs.

Once the door closed again and the sound of the attendant’s footsteps faded, Shen Chunyi finally spoke slowly, “What exactly are you trying to do?”

 

Noticing that Shen Chunyi hadn’t removed his shoes or sword—clearly intending to have a conversation—the youth wasn’t in a hurry either. He picked up a rush cushion and settled into a corner of the hemp rug, sitting cross-legged and resting his chin lazily in his hand. “Guess?”

 

Shen Chunyi glanced up. “Can’t keep up the act anymore?”

 

The youth replied calmly, “I wasn’t acting.”

 

Shen Chunyi chuckled softly. “Even if I guess right, would you admit it?”

 

The youth took his time answering, his tone leisurely. “Does it matter whether I admit it or not?”

 

Shen Chunyi tilted his chin toward him, deciding not to dwell on a question with no clear answer. Instead, he changed the subject. “Isn’t your collar too high? Aren’t you suffocating?”

 

It was early autumn, still slightly warm, yet the youth’s collar was tightly fastened above his Adam’s apple, undoubtedly uncomfortably stuffy.

 

Hearing this, the youth raised a hand to touch his collar, the corners of his lips lifting slightly—it was unclear whether it was a smile or a smirk. “What do you think?”

Shen Chunyi replied indifferently, “If you don’t want to wear it, take it off.”

The youth laughed heartily, deliberately twisting the meaning. “You were so shy outside earlier, but now you’re in such a hurry?”

 

Shen Chunyi scoffed, laying his cards on the table. “Is there any part of you I haven’t seen before, Xuan Shuangxu?”

 

Hearing the name, the youth let out a low chuckle before slowly rising to his feet.

As he approached step by step, Shen Chunyi suddenly realized that this person was at least half a head taller than him. Perhaps he shouldn’t be called a youth anymore but a fully grown man—it was just that Shen Chunyi himself hadn’t adjusted to the change.

He stopped half a step away from Shen Chunyi, leaning forward slightly until their noses were almost touching.

 

Too close.

 

Their eyes met, and he smiled again before saying steadily, “Has Shizun finally acknowledged me?”

 

Shen Chunyi, having nothing left to lose, retorted, “You weren’t even trying to hide it.”

Xuan Shuangxu hummed softly. “I did hide, though not much—I was afraid of scaring you. Things like returning from the dead or vengeful spirits coming back to life can be quite frightening, right? I’d be heartbroken if you died of fright.”

 

Shen Chunyi met his gaze fearlessly. “You don’t have to think I’m that afraid of death.”

Xuan Shuangxu laughed softly. “Why would Shizun think I’d imagine you as that kind of person?”

 

His dark golden pupils stared unblinkingly at him. Just as Shen Chunyi was about to speak, he suddenly remembered something he had forgotten for many years—

 

Don’t look into his eyes. He gasped sharply. In an instant, everything in his vision vanished. It was a disappearance—a complete, abrupt vanishing. Everything before him twisted and melted into a strange, eerie darkness in the blink of an eye.

 

This overwhelming darkness held him in an iron grip, like a child toying with a puppet, harboring a faint, elusive malice as it clenched his consciousness in its palm, dangling him on the precipice of terror. He could think of nothing but fear, unable to comprehend what force was truly controlling him.

His head spun so violently he nearly retched. His knees gave way, and he collapsed to the floor, sweat beading densely on his forehead. His hands trembled, barely able to support his weight.

 

The youth looked down at the man kneeling before him, a hint of satisfaction flickering in his eyes. He lifted the tip of his boot and tapped it lightly against the floor.

Tap, tap-tap.

 

Three distinct knocks echoed through the room. Shen Chunyi jolted awake as if summoned from a midnight trance. His vision cleared instantly, only to find himself slumped on the floor. The youth stood over him, arms crossed, a playful smile on his lips. Seeing Shen regain awareness, he extended a hand with apparent goodwill to help him up.

 

With a deft motion, he scooped Shen Chunyi into his arms, carrying him horizontally.

The inn, the square table, the bed—the surroundings finally coalesced into something recognizable and normal.

 

Shen stiffly turned his head, surveying the room. Everything was calm and peaceful, and he realized with a dawning clarity that the all-consuming terror had been nothing but an illusion.

 

Xuan Shuangxu set him gently on the bed, removed his sword, tugged off his white boots, and tucked him snugly under the covers before speaking leisurely, “Does Shizun have something to say?”

 

Shen Chunyi opened his mouth. Say what?

He couldn’t make a sound!

 

Just as he was about to channel his spiritual energy to break free from this suppression, Xuan Shuangxu lightly patted his cheek.

 

In a cheerful tone, the youth said, “My restraint isn’t that strong. You should be able to break free.”

 

Then, with a gentle smile, he added, “But you’d better not say anything I don’t want to hear, or I’ll get angry. If you insist on speaking, I’ll have no choice but to dislocate your jaw.”

 

Having said that, he suddenly added with a hint of malicious teasing, “Shizun is a man too. Care to guess what I might do after dislocating your jaw?”

Shen Chunyi’s eyes widened abruptly.

 

It wasn’t disgust but shock: after just a few days apart, this little beast’s vulgarity had advanced to new heights.

 

The youth laughed softly a few times, patted his cheek again, and coaxed gently, “Don’t be angry. I’m just joking. I’m not that cruel.”

 

Shen Chunyi clearly didn’t believe him. Xuan Shuangxu then leaned in and planted a light kiss on his forehead. “Really, I won’t. Get some rest now. I can see you haven’t slept properly in days. It’s time to rest.”