Thousand Autumns: Qian Qiu Vol. 2 by Meng Xi Shi

Author:Meng Xi Shi [Shi, Meng Xi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: light novel
Publisher: Seven Seas Entertainment
Published: 2023-07-28T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 45:

Friends

IN TRUTH, unless Yan Wushi was willing to sleep in the abbot’s bed or simply leave in search of somewhere else to stay, then staying in a room with Shen Qiao was his only option.

But in any case, Shen Qiao had just cleaned, and the monastery’s young disciples had sunned the blankets two days prior—the fresh, sweet smell of sunshine was still on them.

The bed was meant for one person, and squeezing in a second would definitely feel somewhat cramped. “You sleep,” Shen Qiao told him. “I’ll sit and meditate. Catching a few winks afterward will be enough for me.”

The room was very crude and humble: moonlight trickled in through the cracks in the window paper, and the night breeze slipped in alongside it. Fortunately, it wasn’t too cold this time of the year, and both of them were top-class martial artists—catching a chill wasn’t a worry.

Shen Qiao sat cross-legged, his back like an evergreen pine or bamboo, resilient and enduring. It was already early summer, and little by little, his clothes had grown lighter—the outline of his waist was faintly visible through the fabric.

Time slipped by in drips and trickles. The moon climbed high, coolly tinting the rippling well water.

Yan Wushi stared at Shen Qiao’s figure from behind. Then, without warning, his finger darted forward quick as lighting, striking right at the center of Shen Qiao’s back.

Shen Qiao was immersed in meditation, having entered a deeply profound state. Most martial artists, unless they were in secluded cultivation, kept a portion of their awareness on watch for danger, especially when they were in a strange environment. This was to guard against an ambush. But Shen Qiao had only been guarding against outside enemies—he’d never expected Yan Wushi to launch a sneak attack against him.

That tiny sliver of vigilance quickly pulled him out of his meditation, but the significant gap between their martial arts and the recent closeness they’d shared combined so that, by the time Shen Qiao reacted, various important acupoints on his back were already sealed. He was completely unable to move.

Yan Wushi caressed Shen Qiao’s cheek, and a quiet sigh escaped him. “A-Qiao, why are you always so trusting of others?”

Shen Qiao frowned. “I thought we were friends.”

Yan Wushi smiled thinly. “You have only yourself to blame. If you hadn’t talked about being friends, I might have waited a little longer before moving against you. Just what kind of person do you think my venerable self is? Why would I need someone like you—some down-and-out laughingstock who can’t even recover his martial arts, who’s been exiled from his sect—to be my friend?”

Shen Qiao stopped talking.

Yan Wushi picked him up in his arms and left the room, heading right outside without further regard for Shen Qiao.

His footsteps remained featherlight, almost weightless, despite the person he carried in his arms. Beneath the moonlight, he glided across the fallen leaves soundlessly, his robes and sleeves billowing in the wind. His movements were peerlessly beautiful and poised—nobody who saw him would have believed that such a celestial being could be the Demon Lord whose name inspired such fear.

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