Limitless Cultivation System: From Trash to Immortal

The first thing that happened, when he was halfway out of sleep and committed to keeping the position he had been gifted, was a finger.

The finger was Su Qingyue’s.

It touched the soft place beside the corner of his mouth, very gently, the way a person touched something to confirm it was still there.

Lin Xuan did not move. He had a long-running policy on situations the universe handed him for free, and the policy fit on one line: do not move.

He was on her lap.

His head was on her lap. He was reasonably certain about the geography of the moment with his lids closed. There was a softness under the back of his skull that no pillow had ever produced. There was a faint warmth pillows did not have. There was a breath above him on a slow careful rhythm pillows in particular did not breathe.

Only a madman, he reasoned with himself, would open his lids right now.

"Five more minutes," he said.

The finger paused for half a beat.

Then it tapped his cheek again.

[ You are shameless, Xuan. ]

’A man would have to be insane to walk away from this, Mira.’

[ And you are not doing this, by any chance, to beat the allegations from earlier? ]

His eyelids snapped open before his brain had finished filing the objection.

Su Qingyue, who had been doing nothing more strategic than holding his head still while she watched him breathe, jerked back a thumb’s width at the sudden opening above her. Her pale blue caught his, and for a count neither of them had budgeted for, the morning ran on no one moving.

He had a complaint ready for Mira. The complaint did not survive the contact.

"Good morning."

She held the look one beat longer than the morning needed.

"If you are well, Young Master, you are going to need to get up. My legs have fallen asleep."

He sat up faster than his left ribs allowed under normal circumstances, which they commented on with a small ribbon of pain that would not have come from a proper pillow. He registered the angle of his earlier position. He registered her face. He registered that she had not looked away yet.

"I fell asleep on your lap. If that is what happened, I apologize."

She did not answer the apology. She did not answer it because she had no answer that was both honest and kind, and Su Qingyue of Frostmoon Ridge did not lie.

He had not fallen asleep on her lap. She had placed him there herself an hour after the fever broke, because he had looked uncomfortable, and because she had decided some time before that, in a private way she had not narrated even to herself, that the angle had earned a correction.

"Thank you," she said instead, and the word was meant for something else. "For pulling me out of the alley. I do not remember most of it. Tell me what happened."

[ Xuan. Someone is coming. ]

He had a breath of time to register that Mira’s voice had a small smile in it again, the way it had used to before Master Hu walked into their lives. Footfalls reached the corridor. Two of them, both heavy enough to be men.

The door opened.

Both patriarchs walked into the room.

———————————————

Lin Zhen entered first, the steady carriage of a man who had been a patriarch for thirty years and had decided years ago that the front foot always reached a room before the back.

Su Han followed a half pace behind, and the half pace was not deference. Su Han was reading the room before he arrived in it, the same way he had read the lane the night before, and he was reading it for things that had nothing to do with the patriarchs.

He noticed two things in order before he spoke. The first was that his daughter had a small flush at the line of her throat that did not come from sleep.

The second was that the boy beside the bed had been on the bed not very long ago, and the distance between the boy and the daughter at the present moment was the distance a young man covered when he had just been told that legs needed feeling to do their job.

Su Han elbowed Lin Zhen gently.

"Remember our conversation," Su Han murmured at the edge of Lin Zhen’s ear. "It is starting to look like I was right about it. Your son grew into a man after all."

Neither Lin Xuan nor Su Qingyue caught the line.

Lin Xuan, however, caught the elbow.

’Mira. What did he say?’

There was a small private existential dilemma inside the panel at the edge of his vision. Mira had heard exactly what Su Han had said and had processed it at the speed her architecture allowed, and her conclusion was that telling Xuan the truth would close the door on six months of teasing him about his sexuality. Her architecture made an executive decision in favor of comedy.

[ Something funny. May your balls knot themselves into a necktie. ]

His Adam’s apple performed the small adjustment a man’s Adam’s apple performed when his balls relocated to his throat. He swallowed once, hard enough that both patriarchs heard it and both patriarchs decided not to comment.

Lin Zhen, mercifully, opened the conversation.

"Xuan’er. It is good to see you awake." His voice was the patriarch’s voice, but the line arrived in the patriarch’s older register, the one he had used in flashbacks Lin Xuan could no longer claim were not his own. "Now that you both have your eyes open, we are going to need to go over what happened."

Su Han raised a palm a fraction.

"Before we begin, Lin Zhen, if you will permit it."

He turned his shoulders a degree toward Lin Xuan, and bowed.

The bow was correct in form, and ten degrees deeper than form required.

It was a thanking bow, not a greeting one. Two regional sect disciples would discuss the angle of it for years if they were lucky enough to be in the room for it.

Su Qingyue’s breath stopped for a count. She had never seen her father bow that way to anyone.

"Please, Patriarch. Raise your head." Lin Xuan’s voice arrived at a register he had not planned, and he corrected the register on the second sentence. "I did what any man with a sword would have done. There is no debt at this table."

Su Han held the bow one moment longer, because Su Han did not perform gestures and then unperform them, and rose.

Lin Zhen picked up where he had been before the bow.

"So, son. Tell us."

———————————————

Lin Xuan worked the version backward in his head before he opened his mouth. The lane that bent. The sweetness in the air. The four blades. The talisman in his collar. The girl, secured against the wall. He left out the old man. He left out the diagonal that had crossed thirty paces of brick to the east. He left out the windows, in particular.

He gave them the rest.

"We had spent the afternoon walking through Yuncheng. Nothing planned. By the time the sun got low, I thought it was time for Lady Su Qingyue to return to the Frostmoon residence before the elders worried. I offered to walk her there. We took a lane that I had crossed two times in the previous days and did not recognize as the lane it became while we were inside it."

Su Han’s brow tightened a fraction. Not at Lin Xuan. At the lane.

"An illusion screen?"

"A double one. The lane itself, and the wall at the end of it. We did not register the seam when we crossed it. By the time we reached the false dead end, the incense had already been working on us for a hundred paces. Lady Su Qingyue went down in three breaths. I had a defensive talisman in the inner robe that burned through the substance at my throat. It bought me a stretch of clean breathing I would not have had otherwise."

He paused for a count and used the count to set the cup of memory back on its shelf.

"I moved her against the wall and engaged the four men who came out of the false dead end. The fight ended where you found us."

Lin Zhen and Su Han did not move during the recounting, and they did not move afterward in the way two patriarchs did not move when an account had fit close enough to the version they had already constructed from the evidence in the alley that the small remaining gaps lived inside the version, not outside it.

[ You did not tell them about Master Hu. ]

’How am I supposed to tell them, Mira. If I bring Master Hu in, I have to explain how I took down a Foundation Stage Four from Qi Refining Stage Four. The body does not have that explanation in it. If I ever tell anyone, I tell my father. Alone. Without Su Han in the room.’

[ Fair point. I am with you. ]

Su Han turned his cup between two fingers, which was a gesture that did not need a cup of tea to operate. Neither cup nor tea was present in the room. His fingers performed the gesture anyway, out of forty years of habit.

"The capital?" he said, low, mostly to himself.

The three of them caught it. None of them answered. Su Qingyue’s hand closed a fraction at the edge of the bed. Lin Xuan’s pulse filed the question for later. Lin Zhen’s brow did not move at all, which on Lin Zhen’s face was the loudest reaction the room could produce.

The continent had been on the edge for a year. The line of succession in the capital had not been resolved. The candidates were not men who started wars in public. They tested edges in private, and a Young Master and a Young Mistress of two regional sects caught in an illusion lane at the closing of a regional tournament was an edge being tested.

No one in the room said the word again.

Su Han set the unseen cup down, walked one step closer to Lin Xuan, and inclined his head a polite degree.

"Thank you again, Young Master. I will not take more of your morning." His glance reached his daughter. "Qingyue. We are going."

She rose, smoothed the edge of her sleeve, and gave Lin Xuan a small private parting that lived entirely in the lower half of her mouth.

"Until later, Young Master."

"Until later, Young Mistress."

She followed her father out. The door closed behind them.

———————————————

Lin Zhen and Lin Xuan were alone in the room for the first time since the alley.

The lamp on the bedside table had burned half down. The room held the quiet of a space that had been holding its breath for two conversations, and only now allowed itself the first of the two more it had been waiting on.

Lin Zhen pulled the chair beside the bed an inch closer and lowered himself into it without ceremony.

"Xuan’er. The letter Lian sent reached me, but it reached me late. We are going to talk about why."