Suo Qingjun Chapter 15

Frost Imprisoned on Qihe Peak

The days flowed by one by one amidst the spiritual mist of Qihe Peak, like elongated threads of silk winding around every inch of Qing Feng’an’s time.

Jin Xianling protected him exceptionally well. Everything in the courtyard was arranged according to his past preferences, and the daily meals never repeated, consisting of carefully prepared nourishing foods. He was almost never more than a step away. During the day, he would sit quietly to one side reading, yet his gaze was always glued to Qing Feng’an, greedily tracing the lines of his face. Or he would accompany him on walks through the courtyard, his fingertips brushing against his sleeves as if touching a fragile dream. At night, he insisted on sharing a bed with Qing Feng’an, lying in each other’s arms. Even though Qing Feng’an remained cold-faced and stiff as ice, Jin Xianling found it as sweet as nectar.

Qing Feng’an gradually gave up his outward resistance. He no longer refused the decoctions and meals Jin Xianling offered, nor did he deliberately avoid his touch. He simply remained silent, the cold frost in his eyes never melting. He knew that only through obedience could he make Jin Xianling lower his guard and buy himself time to recover his internal strength.

Every morning, just as the sky began to brighten, Qing Feng’an would rise and go to the window to take down that moon-white longsword. The blade glinted coldly in the morning light, but Jin Xianling had tampered with it. A faint restriction was attached to the blade; while it didn’t affect daily practice, it prevented him from using internal strength to trigger sword qi. Holding the hilt, he slowly practiced his sword techniques in the courtyard. Every move was still graceful and fluid, but they lacked their former sharpness and majesty, leaving behind only an empty frame.

Jin Xianling would stand under the corridor watching, his eyes burning with obsession. He was familiar with every one of Qing Feng’an’s sword styles; they were what he had learned day after day from his master during his youth. Looking at them now, he felt that the sight of his master holding a sword was more moving than any painting. Occasionally, he couldn’t help but step forward, pressing against Qing Feng’an’s back. His hands would cover the hands holding the sword, leading him through the moves. His hot breath fanned against Qing Feng’an’s ear: Master, your sword moves are still so beautiful. I could never quite mimic them before, but now, being able to practice with you like this is truly wonderful.

Qing Feng’an’s entire body tensed. Feeling the body heat and strength coming from behind him, a wave of nausea rose in his throat. He wanted to break free, but Jin Xianling held him even tighter with an irresistible dominance, as if trying to rub him into his very blood and bone. Master, don’t move, Jin Xianling’s voice was low and lingering. Just let me stay with you like this for a while. Just a little while.

Qing Feng’an could only freeze in place, allowing the other to lead him in brandishing the longsword. His ears were filled with the man’s warm breath, and his nose was enveloped by the faint scent of ink and spiritual mist—a scent that made him feel suffocated.

After practicing the sword, Qing Feng’an would return indoors and sit by the window to read. He mostly read ancient medical texts, attempting to find a way to break Jin Xianling’s heterodox acupoint-sealing technique. Jin Xianling never interfered with his reading and even went out of his way to have various rare classics collected and placed on his desk. However, he would always sit beside Qing Feng’an, either accompanying him quietly or leaning against his shoulder, listening to him occasionally recite the contents in a low voice. Even if he didn’t understand a word of the obscure medical principles, his heart was full of joy.

Master, what you’re reading is truly interesting. Jin Xianling’s chin rested in the crook of Qing Feng’an’s shoulder, his voice carrying a hint of laziness. Before, I only thought about practicing the sword to catch up to your footsteps as soon as possible. I never settled my heart to read these things. Now that I’m with you, even these dry words seem to come alive.

Qing Feng’an did not respond, though his fingers tightened slightly as he turned the page. He could feel Jin Xianling’s breath and the warmth of his body. Those overly intimate contacts were like needles pricking his heart, leaving him without a moment’s peace.

As time passed, Qing Feng’an also figured out Jin Xianling’s temperament. He appeared gentle, but in reality, he was obsessive to the extreme. If Qing Feng’an showed even the slightest sign of wanting to flee or revealed any impatience toward him, the madness in his eyes would instantly surface.

Once, while walking in the courtyard, Qing Feng’an happened to notice that the spiritual mist outside the walls seemed a bit thinner, and he could faintly see the distant mountains. His heart stirred, and his feet unconsciously moved toward the wall. Before he could get close, his wrist was suddenly grabbed by Jin Xianling. The grip was so strong it nearly crushed his bones.

Master, where do you want to go? Jin Xianling’s voice was icy, his eyes churning with violent emotions, a complete departure from his usual tenderness. Have I been too indulgent, making you forget your place?

Qing Feng’an struggled but couldn’t break free. He could only say coldly, I was just looking.

Looking? Jin Xianling sneered. He suddenly yanked him into his arms, holding him in a death grip as if terrified he would suddenly vanish. Master, you can’t lie to me. Your eyes can’t lie. You’ve never given up the thought of escaping. You’ve never had me in your heart.

His voice carried an imperceptible tremor, like that of a wounded beast. I’ve already given you everything I can give. I’ve given myself to you. Why are you still not satisfied? Why do you still think of leaving me?

Qing Feng’an was held so tightly he could hardly breathe. Feeling the despair and madness radiating from the man, his heart was a mess of complex emotions. He knew Jin Xianling’s love was distorted and obsessive, yet within that love, there seemed to be a hidden, barely detectable fragility.

Jin Xianling, let me go, Qing Feng’an’s voice steadied. I wasn’t trying to escape.

Really? Jin Xianling loosened his grip slightly, his eyes fixed intently on him, carrying a sliver of hope and suspicion.

Really. Qing Feng’an avoided his gaze and looked at the ground. I just felt stifled in the courtyard and wanted to see the scenery outside.

Jin Xianling stared at him for a long time until he was certain there was no sign of a lie in his eyes. Only then did he slowly release his hand. The violence in his eyes gradually faded, replaced by deep grievance and infatuation. Master, if you want to see the scenery in the future, tell me. I will watch it with you. He raised his hand, gently stroking Qing Feng’an’s reddened wrist with tender movements. Don’t make me worry again, alright? I really can’t live without you.

Qing Feng’an didn’t speak. He simply pulled his hand back silently and turned to walk back into the house. He knew that the lie just now was only a temporary measure. Escaping this place was still a long and difficult road.

At night, Jin Xianling slept deeply, his arm tightly encircling Qing Feng’an’s waist as if guarding his most precious treasure. Qing Feng’an kept his eyes open, watching the hazy moonlight outside the window. His fingertips secretly began to circulate his internal strength. After these days of searching, he had finally found a flaw in Jin Xianling’s heterodox acupoint-sealing technique. However, to completely break it, he still needed time and an opportunity.

He could feel Jin Xianling’s warm breath and his steady heartbeat, and his heart was filled with a myriad of emotions. This disciple, whom he had once treated as his own and taught everything he knew, had now become his jailer. Between them lay betrayal, imprisonment, and a chasm as deep as a blood feud. They could never return to how they were before.

The spiritual mist permeated outside the window. Moonlight filtered through the lattice, spilling onto the bed and illuminating the figures of the two men held in an embrace, yet it could not bridge the distance in their hearts. Qing Feng’an closed his eyes, thinking to himself: Jin Xianling, you ultimately do not understand. The togetherness you desire was never meant to be like this. And I will never be trapped here for a lifetime.