"The chamber is already enough, Gōngzǐ. Chóng Féng Xiānsheng might be upset with you again if you take any decision without his permission." Lìngxiāo said, holding the five needles as he prepared to work on him now that he was finally relaxed.
"When did he ever show anything more than anger? I am terribly bored." Chóng Fēi mumbled to himself before tensing again at the sight of the needle in Lìngxiāo's hand. "Mph—no, use anything else." He lightly pushed away Lìngxiāo's hand like a stubborn rabbit avoiding a net. "I… hate needles."
He was also silently upset because Lìngxiāo had reminded him of his limitations. "I would not listen if you do not follow my order too. I am the heir of this freaking clan."
Lìngxiāo pulled his hand back. This time, he did not feel the need or intention to force him—the way he usually did when people made his task difficult. He simply sat back.
"What order do you have then, Gōngzǐ?" Lìngxiāo said, a little plainly but not fully bored—more like he already knew that this man still had the hunger of being obeyed.
"I would not use any needle unless your order is fulfilled. Is this enough?" He added.
Chóng Fēi wondered about it for a bit. He was still not going to make things easy. After a little while, he pointed at the needles in Lìngxiāo's hands. "Only small two. Put down the rest."
Lìngxiāo looked at the needles he was told not to use. He did not know if he should be annoyed or cry—while his face would show the never-leaving smile.
The needles this man did not want him to use were the most important ones—for the marks at his neck and his muscle pain.
'What would I do with the ones that would barely work on him? I do not think I can fully obey him without breaking his order—or him.'
"Gōngzǐ, these three needles are the most important for your healing progress." Lìngxiāo spoke slowly with patience. "But I promise you would not be hurt as much as you might think. All you have to do is trust me."
He raised a hand over his own chest with a deeper invitation for the truth. Chóng Fēi's tense gaze followed his hand—the same hand that had handled the needle snake.
"I understand you are uncomfortable with this, so I will be careful. You speak to me like nothing is happening… I am listening." He added.
Chóng Fēi swallowed hard—too hard—even when his gaze accidentally fell on the needles again. The faint yet sharp light was impossible to ignore. He stayed silent for the next minute, as if he could not focus on the present.
"Gōngzǐ?" Lìngxiāo called lightly, snapping his fingers in front of his eyes.
The snap made Chóng Fēi's breath catch as he quickly said, "I mean—l-like those would stop poking inside if you tell them to be gentle…"
'He seems like a cat who hates bathing.'
"Relax. They are just needles. You have been trained to kill supernaturals too…" Lìngxiāo reminded him as he prepared some backup herbs, mixing a few types of flower liquid with herbal leaves, adding something golden—spiritual pixie dust from his empty hands, like adding salt. "You may focus elsewhere."
'I have to seal it into the body too. And then if something tries to enter him, or if his soul is somehow being pulled, I can track it.'
'The needles would have been enough. But I should not be sure of anything yet—until Mō Qīn brings something to look forward to.'
'Perhaps I can roam around and understand the small details here. These few days have been more problematic.'
"Fine. If it works—or any betrayal of mind instead." Chóng Fēi mumbled dryly as he watched them, as if trying to memorize a different type of language. His gaze moved from the bowl to the herbs when Lìngxiāo moved them to mix—especially the golden dust, which was like tiny fireflies falling into the liquid.
Lìngxiāo exhaled like a small weight had been moved from his shoulder.
'At least he is not resisting completely. I cannot avoid this treatment, or the marks would spread. It would only increase the remaining risk on his soul.'
"I thought qì is in the hue form… What is this?" Chóng Fēi could not help but ask quietly, his voice still carrying the mark of the panic he was about to have again.
Lìngxiāo nodded once, agreeing with his fact. He had started to feel comfortable in the conversation, talking to him even if it was like a personal tutor. He leaned closer slowly again, gazing at the perfect spot to use the needle over the skin.
'I wonder how long Chóng Xiānsheng has kept him unknown about things… He would have been better by now if he belonged to the Hàngwō or Yìn Làn clan—he would have learned faster with interest, not just reciting as the Xuè Gusu side does.'
"It is also my qì. I am using a particular amount rather than my regular strength… that is why it has taken this form and is separately working on the herb." Lìngxiāo explained gently.
He finished making it within a minute and dipped the needles over it before pressing over the rim to remove the extra—ready to use.
"Perfect amount…" Chóng Fēi breathed thoughtfully, gazed at the ceiling.
When Lìngxiāo brought the needle just a little closer, his eyes shut tightly, his other hand gripping the bedsheet so hard that his fingers could have left five holes in the silk red sheets.
The needle slowly dug into the pressure point bit by bit, without breaking the skin with blood just yet.
When he realized Chóng Fēi was close to panicking dangerously again—the mark over his neck throbbing—he immediately increased his gentle talking to distract him, even though he was not really a man of talking too much. "Do you wish to learn, Gōngzǐ? I can teach you if you wish."
"Put the thing AWAY…" He hissed through his teeth, his hand trembling, almost reaching out to remove it.
'That panic again. It is too dangerous for him even now.'
Lìngxiāo stopped the arm firmly but carefully, guiding it back to where it was, while one needle had already gone deep into its proper place.
"LING. XIǍO!" Chóng Fēi hissed, his eyes snapping open, bloodshot, the veins and bones of his throat visibly gripping the skin as if a spiral was pulling it inside. "NO MORE. It is TOO MUCH. I CANNOT—!"
He really could not take it anymore. He looked like the needles were the ones killing him.
"YOU CAN. AND YOU WILL."
Lìngxiāo said with uncharacteristic firmness—silently higher than his usual tone, full of a determination he had not used.
The words rang in his head—the very words he had said that unforgettable night in the rain, in his father's arms, his childish mouth not knowing what he was throwing at the proudly standing clan:
'I WILL return one day.'
Chóng Fēi's breath caught again at his tone—which felt unrecognizable.