Black Magic Rose Chapter 17

Chapter 17: The Silent Guardian

Wen Jingheng’s consciousness drifted in the darkness, like a speck of dust lost in the boundless universe. Time lost its meaning, space dissolved into nothingness, and only eternal silence enveloped him. However, at some unknown point, a coordinate appeared in this deadly silence—a stable and warm presence, like the only North Star in the night sky, guiding his direction.

That was Shu Yijin.

Initially, it was just a faint voice, gently penetrating layers of obstruction, bringing fragmented information from the outside world. He clung to it like a drowning man grasping a straw, focusing all his mind to listen, to capture every subtle change in that clear, moist voice. He could discern the deliberate pretense of tenderness in the voice, and he could also sense the coldness and calculation hidden beneath it, but even so, it remained his sole solace in the endless solitude.

Later, there was touch. Cool fingertips brushed against his skin, bringing a subtle tremor. Every contact was like a stone dropped into a lake, sending ripples through his dormant consciousness. He began to learn to distinguish different touches—the gentleness of wiping, the pressure during massage, and… that one time in the hot spring, the close embrace that nearly ignited his soul.

But the deepest connection came from the hidden mark on his chest. The Black Rose that had quietly bloomed seemed to be directly branded onto his soul, becoming an incredibly clear and stable Energy Anchor Point. Through it, he could perceive Shu Yijin’s state more clearly, and even vaguely capture the fluctuations of the other party’s emotions.

Yet, what was transmitted through this mark now was intense pain and disorder.

Shu Yijin was injured. Severely injured.

This realization pierced Wen Jingheng’s long-numbed mind like a sharp knife. Even in the abyss of unconsciousness, he felt an unprecedented urgency. The pain was so intense that it penetrated the layers of the Seal, directly shaking his sleeping soul.

He wanted to do something, but he couldn’t move. It was like being trapped in a glass box, watching someone important suffer right before his eyes, yet unable to even lift a finger. This sense of powerlessness nearly drove him mad.

Just then, he felt Shu Yijin’s wrist close by. Almost instinctively, he used all his will, driving this uncontrollable body to suddenly grasp that hand.

The moment skin touched skin, a clearer pain was transmitted, but it also brought a turning point. He felt the dormant power within him resonate with Shu Yijin’s pain. Without thinking, he followed that connection and transferred a faint thread of energy.

This action was purely instinctive, like a mother soothing a crying infant. He didn’t even know what he was doing, only relying on intuition to try and alleviate the other party’s suffering.

When that wisp of energy flowed out, he sensed Shu Yijin’s shock, and also felt his own vitality draining away. But that wasn’t important; what mattered was… the other party’s pain seemed to have lessened slightly.

However, the relief was short-lived. Shu Yijin forcibly cut off the connection and pulled his hand away. As the connection severed, Wen Jingheng’s consciousness sank back into deeper darkness, but this time, something was different.

The voice that had always lingered in his ears was gone.

Shu Yijin no longer came to the room as usual. There was no daily, unwavering “care,” no seemingly gentle whispers, and he couldn’t even hear footsteps.

One day, two days… time slipped by in silence. Wen Jingheng’s consciousness frantically searched the darkness for that familiar presence, but found nothing. Only the Black Rose mark on his chest remained, but the perception transmitted through it also became extremely faint, as if deliberately shielded by something.

Where had he gone? How badly was he injured? Why wasn’t he coming anymore?

Countless questions sprouted in the darkness, accompanied by growing anxiety. For the first time, Wen Jingheng hated his own helplessness so much. He tried to struggle, tried to break through the constraints of this body, but he was like a moth caught in a spiderweb; all his efforts were futile.

The real storm suddenly descended late on the third night after Shu Yijin left for recuperation.

Wen Jingheng’s consciousness tensed in the darkness. A sense of crisis, stemming from instinct, stung his dormant senses. The door was violently pushed open, without a knock or announcement. The footsteps of the newcomer were unsteady and messy, carrying an unpleasant arrogance and the smell of alcohol.

It was Shu Qing. The Shu Family legitimate son who had come to provoke Shu Yijin when he first entered the Wen Family, and ultimately brought humiliation upon himself.

“Tsk, truly a living dead man.” Shu Qing’s voice was particularly grating in the silent room, filled with undisguised contempt. He walked around the bed, but his gaze fell on Shu Yijin’s personal belongings in the room—the poetry collection often flipped through, a jacket draped over the chair back.

“My good ‘brother’ certainly knows how to find peace for himself.” He sneered, his fingertip unceremoniously tracing the pages, making an unpleasant sound. “Climbing onto the high branch of the Wen Family, does he really think he can escape the Shu Family? Dream on.”

Wen Jingheng’s “gaze” was fixed on this uninvited guest. He could sense that Shu Qing’s malice was not directed at him, the unconscious person, but entirely at the absent Shu Yijin.

“I heard he’s so sick he’s almost dead?” Shu Qing’s voice held a malicious anticipation. “Serves him right. An ill-omened Discarded Son, does he really think an Auspicious Marriage can change anything? When the Wen Family discovers he’s useless, and even a burden, let’s see where he can hide!”

The words spread through the room like a viper’s tongue. A strong surge of anger welled up in the depths of Wen Jingheng’s consciousness. This anger was so unfamiliar and hot that it almost scorched his cold thoughts. He wanted to stop him, to reprimand him, to make this noisy ant disappear immediately, but invisible shackles held him firmly bound, preventing him from uttering even a sound.

Shu Qing became more smug as he spoke, even walking a few steps closer to the bed, looking down at Wen Jingheng: “But speaking of which, I have to thank you, Young Master Wen. If you weren’t lying here, how would our family have the chance to send this unlucky thing out? You just lie there nicely, never wake up, that way…”

His words abruptly stopped.

It wasn’t that he was interrupted, but an invisible, bone-chilling pressure instantly filled the entire room like a tide. The air seemed to solidify, the temperature plummeted, and a suffocating sensation gripped Shu Qing’s throat.

“Wha, what’s going on?” The smugness on Shu Qing’s face was instantly replaced by terror. He looked around in panic; there was clearly only him and a vegetable in the room! But that power was so real, so immense, carrying an ancient and pure malice, as if darkness itself had gained consciousness and was staring at him coldly.

Was it a barrier? Or… the curse of that Ill-Omened Being?

Shu Qing’s face instantly turned pale. He recalled the bizarre rumors about Shu Yijin’s red eyes, and the experience of inexplicably falling down the last time he was here. Fear overwhelmed all bravado. He no longer cared about showing off, stumbling and fleeing out the door as if chased by a vengeful spirit, unable to even leave a final threat.

Silence returned to the room, but the icy pressure did not immediately dissipate. Like a loyal guard, it still lingered around the bed, isolating all external malice.

Wen Jingheng was stunned.

This was not Shu Yijin’s power. At least, not the kind of restrained and calculating power he usually sensed. This power was more primal, more vast, carrying an undeniable sense of protection, and even… a subtle, hard-to-detect murderous intent emanating from being provoked.

Was it the Black Rose mark? Or… did Shu Yijin leave something here before he left?

The answer was revealed the next evening. Shu Yijin returned. His face was still pale, and his steps were unsteady; clearly, his injuries were far from healed. But the first thing he did upon returning was to come to this room.

He didn’t immediately begin his care, but stood quietly by the bed, his gaze fixed on Wen Jingheng’s face. After a long while, he spoke very softly, his voice hoarse with fatigue:

“I heard… a mouse sneaked in and made some noise.”

His tone was flat, yet Wen Jingheng could almost “see” the fleeting cold killing intent in his crimson eyes.

“Don’t worry,” Shu Yijin leaned down slightly, his fingertips gently brushing Wen Jingheng’s forehead hair, the movement unprecedentedly soft. “I placed a ‘prohibition.’ From now on, no dirty things will be able to disturb your rest.”

At that moment, all of Wen Jingheng’s doubts were answered. The cold power that had protected him last night indeed came from Shu Yijin. Even though he himself was severely injured and not yet recovered, he still diverted his attention to set up a defense here, just to isolate petty individuals like Shu Qing.

This realization was like a strong light, piercing through the long-standing fog in Wen Jingheng’s consciousness. Shu Yijin’s various actions—the seemingly contradictory tenderness and coldness, calculation and protection—now seemed to have a new explanation that made his heart skip a beat.

He felt Shu Yijin begin to wipe his arm. The movements were still meticulous, but slower than before, carrying an indescribable sense of… cherish. When those cool fingers inadvertently brushed his wrist, Wen Jingheng used all the willpower he had accumulated since falling asleep, causing his fingertip to tremble slightly, almost imperceptibly.

Shu Yijin’s movements suddenly paused.

The room fell into absolute silence. Wen Jingheng could feel the gaze fixed on his hand, filled with disbelief and scrutiny.

After a long time, he heard Shu Yijin take a very soft breath, followed by a complex, almost inaudible sigh escaping his lips.

“…It’s not time yet.”

This whisper was partly addressed to Wen Jingheng, but more like a warning to himself. Then, he continued his actions without any further abnormality, as if that momentary tremor had been a shared illusion.

But Wen Jingheng knew that something had fundamentally changed. He was no longer just an audience trapped in darkness, an object of observation. In a state of mind that Shu Yijin himself might not have fully clarified, he had already become a special existence that needed to be guarded.

And this seed named “heart fluttering,” once fallen into the heart, could no longer be stopped from breaking through the soil.

When Shu Yijin finished his care and prepared to leave, he paused at the doorway. Moonlight streamed through the gap in the curtains, plating him with a silver edge.

“Good night, Jingheng,” he said. This time, there was no calculation in his tone, only complete tenderness.

The door closed softly. Wen Jingheng “looked” in the direction of the door in the darkness, hoping for the first time that tomorrow’s dawn would arrive sooner.