Living to Suffer Chapter 3

III

Time seemed not to touch the mountains, and a month pa.s.sed in the blink of an eye. With his injuries largely healed, Shen Liangsheng set off on his journey back to the sect. Before leaving, he removed his hufa pa.s.s from his belt. The pa.s.s was made of a yin piece and a yang piece, and he gave Ch’in Ching the yin piece as the token for their future negotiation.

The doctor acted rather formally this time because of the forbidden notions that he harboured. He hid all the smiles and laughs, all the quips and remarks, and bid the man farewell. “While I will not see you out, Shen-hufa, I wish you a safe journey ahead.”

With Shen Liangsheng gone, Ch’in Ching was alone again in his little hut in the mountains, but phantoms of the man seemed to linger all around.

When he ate alone at the table, he would recall that he could not help but pay special attention to the man’s hands whenever they shared a meal.

Shen Liangsheng had skin paler than usual. His fingers were long and slender without protruding knuckles. The calluses that should belong to a swordsman were not discernible, but with one look anybody would be able to tell that the hands belonged to a martial arts pract.i.tioner, one who had the power to decapitate men with his bare hands. A few times he became so engrossed that his gaze followed hand, chopsticks and food up to the man’s lips. He saw the lips part and the food being carefully chewed and swallowed, but he was under the impression that the man did not give a second thought as to whether it was fish and meat entering his mouth or tofu and greens and that the man could not distinguish between them, either.

Perhaps a meal was nothing more than ingesting food to the man.

“Yes?” One time Ch’in Ching’s gaze lingered a moment too long, provoking Shen Liangsheng to question. The man’s voice carried no discontent, but it was more than enough to bring Ch’in Ching back to reality.

“Nothing. It shames me as a host that the food is so monotonous.” Ch’in Ching wore a polite smile but was secretly wondering what his mouth would taste like.

“It is of no concern.”

It likely had no taste at all, Ch’in Ching thought while smiling. The man probably could not taste all the flavours of life.

Sometimes when Ch’in Ching sat by the window with a book and a pot of fine tea, he would still see the man practising his sword in the courtyard.

Generally speaking, Ch’in Ching should give the man privacy, for not every swordsman was willing to let outsiders observe his techniques. Shen Liangsheng, however, did not seem to mind the doctor’s observance of his every stance, every strike. At times relaxed, at other times swift, the moves did not carry the man’s core ch’i or the intent to kill, but the essence of the sword was evident.

More than two centuries had pa.s.sed since the Hsing Sect shook the chianghu with apocalyptic carnage, and the event had nearly become a legend. Two hundred years later, the Hsing Sect had not waged another war, but the mere mention of its name struck fear into the heart of every person in the chianghu. The horror of the incident was apparent.

Shen Liangsheng likely was practising merely to pa.s.s the time and thus did not display the unearthly ability to force a dozen sects into extinction that a hufa of the demonic sect was fabled to have. All that could be perceived was his dancing sword and flowing charm.

Normally after watching for a while, Ch’in Ching would look back down at his book, lamenting. Nature’s creations were beautiful and mysterious, but no matter how awe-inspiring this man was, he was nothing more than a demonic weapon of the Hsing Sect. Rumour had it that the hufa of the Hsing Sect all reached a state of selflessness, abandoning all sense of self and mortal greed, and obeyed only the sect leader’s commands – if they were told to kill a thousand men, they would not rest until all one thousand souls had left their fleshly vessels. Ch’in Ching now judged the rumour to be true.

The yin pa.s.s that Shen Liangsheng left behind was initially also used by Ch’in Ching as a belt accessory. Its material was most peculiar. Neither stone nor metal, it was as cold as ice, and Ch’in Ching could feel its temperature even through two layers of clothing.

Late on one hot summer night, Ch’in Ching stuck the pa.s.s under his bamboo pillow. Rolling onto his side with one cheek against the pillow, he fell asleep quite easily with the indistinct coolness exuded by the pa.s.s.

Perhaps he should not have brought the man’s intimate possession to bed. That night, Ch’in Ching had a sensual dream.

When he woke in the middle of the night, his undergarments were wet with sweat and clung to his skin. The member between his legs was still hard and his body burning.

Unable to hold back, he reached underneath the pillow for the pa.s.s, its icy touch making the heat within him seem even more unbearable.

Closing his eyes and tightening his grip on the pa.s.s, Ch’in Ching slowly brought it to his collarbone as a shiver ran through him. In the dark room, an odd smile found its way to his face.

His fingers pushed the pa.s.s down over his shirt to a spot on the chest slightly to the right. Under the chilliness, his right nipple began to perk up without having been stimulated.

On the front face of the pa.s.s was a yenwei, the creature depicted in the Shan-hai Ching as having the body of a snake and the head of a human. He who lays eyes upon the creature shall dominate the realm. Ch’in Ching wondered delightedly if Shen-hufa­ would still be able to keep that emotionless, impa.s.sive expression of his after finding out he was using his hufa pa.s.s to do this.

The pa.s.s was rectangular, and its edges were polished to a blade-like point. A little absentmindedly, Ch’in Ching began toying with the nipple through his cotton undershirt using a corner of the pa.s.s. A slightly stronger move of the wrist brought a light p.r.i.c.k like that of a knife, but because of the sensitivity of the location, he gladly welcomed the pain.

His groin had already been frustratingly swollen, and now with the pleasure from the nipple being played with, the sprightly member jerked in Ch’in Ching’s pants as though it were trying to push its way out of its constraints. The head poked at the thin cotton, wetting it with the juices leaking out of the hole. The fluid seeped into the cloth and felt slightly damp on Ch’in Ching’s skin.

His fingers slid the pa.s.s down to his crotch, pressing the face with the carving against it. He applied more force to his fingertips and pushed the designs of the pa.s.s against the sac hanging below his erection, bringing on an indescribable, sinful sensation.

He then slid the pa.s.s up over the sac slowly rubbing it on his member on its way up. Over his underpants, the sensation felt vague and flirtatious and only made him more anxious. More and more juices spewed from his member, completely wetting the patch of cloth near the head. Wiggling around, Ch’in Ching eased his underpants down, and the head of his member leapt out from under the cloth to stick closely to his abdomen.

A sudden gust of wind blew across the cloudy night sky, letting a ray of moonlight into the dark room to illuminate more of the scene on the bed. Ch’in Ching kept rubbing the carvings on the pa.s.s against his member as if he had fallen in love with this vague and flirtatious sensation. The yin pa.s.s was eerily cold and his member fiery hot. The coolness slipped through the cotton and wrapped itself around the burning rod just as the lily-white, strong, slender fingers of the man might. Closing his eyes, Ch’in Ching imagined the pair of cold, heartless hands that had committed the most heinous, most sinful crimes taking a firm hold on his member and stroking it. A soft moan escaped his lips.

The sound was rather audible in the quietude of night. Opening his eyes, Ch’in Ching pushed his upper body up with his left hand and saw under the hazy moonlight his partly undressed bottom and his hips gyrating by themselves along with his right hand’s movement. The messy, slick head of his member was peeping from under his pants and had left a small pool of stickiness on his stomach erotically reflecting the moon’s radiance.

To be this aroused… Ch’in Ching chuckled. Although he mockingly called himself a pervert, it was naught but a name. Because he was born with an unusual heart, he harboured little l.u.s.t, and other than his gambling habits, he led a rather abstinent lifestyle.

But Shen Liangsheng was different. With a light smile about his lips, Ch’in Ching acknowledged that, to him, the man was different from the moment he knew his ident.i.ty.

But this “different” was different from the “different” he had initially expected.

What a funny little tongue-twister.

As these thoughts raced through his mind, his hands did not cease to move. That he had become this aroused because of the man induced in him a nearly m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.tic pleasure.

He watched himself m.a.s.t.u.r.b.a.t.e with the pa.s.s, rub his member with the man’s intimate possession, and become so uninhibited, all without even having direct contact, his skin shielded from the item by his pants.

He watched his p.e.n.i.s envalley with so much blood that the swollen head almost glowed red, and an endless flow of clear but impure fluids dripped from the hole. He made a sudden change in motion and brought a corner of the pa.s.s to the little hole on the head. The sharp pain mixed with the pleasure rushed to his head, and his member trembled a few times before reaching release.

Ch’in Ching lay back down, panting for a while. He held the pa.s.s up to study it under the moonlight.

A dribble of c.u.m had fallen just now on the pa.s.s, and the milky liquid was sliding down the designs, stopping between the two heads atop the thick serpentine body of the yenwei.

Word by word, Ch’in Ching recited the story in the Shan-hai Ching:

The yenwei has the head of man, body of serpent, and wears purple dress and a red crown, and he who sees it shall dominate the realm…

…huh.