(BL) The Evil Sect Brother Quits

The storm rolled in just past dusk — thick clouds gathering over the Murong estate like bruises on an old wound. Rain battered the cracked roof tiles in a relentless percussion, drowning out every ordinary noise. The courtyard lanterns flickered once, twice — then went out for good, snuffed by wind that smelled faintly of lilies and decay.

They moved their bedding into a single room at Shen Jiu's insistence. Practical, he'd told them. If the manor really fed on their memories, they would be safer if they didn't sleep alone. A single barrier, a single warded threshold, a single anchor. Easier to protect.

Wen Li took the far side, arranging her talisman scrolls in neat little rows beside her pillow. She glanced up only once to see Shen Jiu lifting the protective array to test its edges — the thin glow like a dome over them. But her eyes slid past Luo Wen without meeting his, as if his mere gaze made her tongue feel heavy.

When the bedding was set, Luo Wen positioned himself right beside Shen Jiu's futon, close enough that the back of his hand brushed against Shen Jiu's sleeve whenever they shifted. His hair was still damp from the rain outside — stray droplets clung to his neck, catching the lantern light. When Shen Jiu told him he could sleep farther away, he only tilted his head, eyes soft, smile unchanging.

"Shixiong," he murmured. "Aren't we safer like this?"

Shen Jiu opened his mouth, but the words never made it out. Something about the way Luo Wen said we made it sound like a promise — like a chain slipped around his throat.

---

Sleep did not come easily.

Outside, the wind dragged branches across the courtyard walls, a scraping that set Shen Jiu's teeth on edge. His mind refused to quiet. The mirror across from his futon had been covered with talisman paper, yet in the flickering lamplight he imagined he could still see a gleam behind it — like an eye pressed to a keyhole.

His pulse fluttered beneath his ribs, echoing in the hollow spaces of his mind.

Then: warm fingers, feather-light, brushing his wrist.

Shen Jiu startled. He turned his head — and Luo Wen was lying there, half-propped on one elbow, face so close that Shen Jiu could see the shadow of his lashes against his pale skin.

"Shixiong," Luo Wen whispered. "Your heartbeat is loud."

"It's nothing," Shen Jiu said, voice rough from disuse. He tried to pull his hand back, but Luo Wen's fingers closed around his wrist, gentle yet unyielding.

"It's not nothing," Luo Wen said, softer now, leaning in until his breath stirred the hair near Shen Jiu's temple. "You always carry so much alone. Even your dreams bruise you."

Shen Jiu's throat tightened. The warmth of that touch seeped deeper than it should have. He forced a brittle laugh. "Don't speak nonsense. Sleep."

But Luo Wen's grip only eased enough for his thumb to brush the inside of Shen Jiu's wrist — a light, circular caress that made something coil unpleasantly in his chest.

"I'm here now," Luo Wen said. "I won't let it touch you."

---

Wen Li turned on her futon, pretending to be asleep.

She'd watched them from the corner of her half-lidded eyes: the way Luo Wen leaned close, the way he looked at Shen Jiu as if a single exhale might break him, or worse — make him his forever.

She had seen the faint shimmer in the boy's qi when he touched Shen Jiu's skin — a soft flicker like oil catching flame, something not righteous, not the Frost Moon's light but an old, sticky hunger. She clutched the charm hidden in her sleeve tighter, pressing its edge into her palm until she almost drew blood.

She'd asked herself once if she would tell Shen Jiu. But each time she saw his face — so calm, so convinced that kindness could fix anything — her words dried up.

Some things, she feared, were better buried. Or else they would bury all of them.

---

Sleep finally came in snatches — shallow and restless. But the dreams did not wait.

Shen Jiu found himself back in that white corridor. This time, the mirrors on either side stretched taller than temple gates, each pane alive with a reflection that did not belong to him.

In one, he saw his past self — Frost Moon robes crisp and bright, eyes narrow with contempt. Shen Jiu the Senior Brother, cold and vicious. In another, a glimpse of a boy kneeling in snow, clutching a letter with bloodied hands — Luo Wen, hair matted, eyes raw with betrayal.

Each step echoed like a drumbeat in the empty hall. The mirrors pulsed. The air was thick with the scent of lilies — sharp, sweet, cloying. He heard whispers, but they weren't the manor's ghosts. They were his own voice, repeating every cruel word he'd ever spat. Every promise broken.

He stumbled to a stop at the far end, breath shallow. One last mirror towered over him, bigger than any door he'd ever walked through.

Inside it: himself. Now. Pale, tired, eyes rimmed with regret.

And behind him — Luo Wen.

No longer the boy.

But older. Taller. Clad in dark robes that rippled like smoke, a faint red glow flickering beneath the sleeves. His hands rested on Shen Jiu's shoulders, gentle — yet in the reflection, the fingers left bruises that bloomed like ink stains.

The reflection smiled. Its lips brushed the shell of his ear. Its voice was his Luo Wen's, yet not.

"Don't look away, Shixiong."

The reflection's mouth pressed to his neck. Cold, then unbearably hot.

"You promised. Even if you never said the words, you did. You did."

---

He woke with a ragged gasp, heart pounding so violently that it almost drowned out the thunder outside.

The futon creaked. Luo Wen was kneeling beside him, fingers pressed to the pendant at his throat. His eyes were wide — too wide — pupils blown black in the lamplight.

"You were crying," Luo Wen murmured.

Shen Jiu swallowed hard. His lips felt chapped, like he'd been speaking for hours. "It was nothing. Just a nightmare."

Luo Wen's fingers slid from the pendant to his collarbone, tracing the line of skin as if to reassure himself that the flesh was still warm, still his. His thumb lingered on Shen Jiu's throat, pressing lightly where the pulse fluttered.

"Dreams lie," Luo Wen said. His voice was so soft it felt like silk dragged over a blade. "But the body doesn't. It remembers what you've given me."

Shen Jiu's breath hitched. He turned his face away, flinching when Luo Wen's thumb stroked the sensitive skin just below his jaw.

"You don't need to do this," he said, the words meant to be firm, yet sounding so small in the hush of the storm.

"But I want to," Luo Wen whispered. He leaned down, forehead brushing Shen Jiu's hairline. "I'll take your fear, too, if you let me."

He pressed his mouth to Shen Jiu's temple — a kiss too soft to be anything but wrong.

---

Wen Li sat rigid in her corner, eyes wide open now. She felt the spiritual thread that pulsed between Luo Wen's fingers and Shen Jiu's skin — subtle, almost gentle, but insidious in how it wrapped around the older man's qi. It felt like vines curling through flesh, stitching something together that had never asked to be bound.

When Luo Wen finally settled back on his futon — not more than an arm's reach away — he kept his eyes open. He watched Shen Jiu breathe, watched the tremor in his lashes as sleep refused to return. And when Shen Jiu did slip under again, exhausted and half-defeated, Luo Wen's hand slid out once more to touch the pendant that nestled against his collarbone.

A single word slipped from Luo Wen's lips — so faint Wen Li almost missed it.

"Mine."

---

They rose before dawn, the storm still churning overhead. The manor's corridors seemed narrower than before — the mirrors they had covered now peeling the talismans off like dead skin. Wen Li inspected the protective array with trembling hands, her eyes flicking to Shen Jiu's throat where the pendant glowed faintly, a heartbeat that did not belong to him.

She caught Luo Wen staring at her once — and for the briefest instant, his eyes were so dark that she thought she saw teeth inside them, grinning.

When Shen Jiu asked if she was alright, she lied.

They would not survive if he knew how deep this ran.

And Luo Wen — dear, sweet Luo Wen — would never let him go now.

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