Life Contract

Lin Zhiyi found a set of her own clothes for Xie Jin.

It was a gray tracksuit she used to wear for morning runs. It was a bit short on him—the sleeves barely covered his wrists, and the pants revealed half of his ankles. But it was better than being bare-chested.

Xie Jin sat on the sofa, head lowered, letting the towel she threw hit him in the face.

"Wipe off the blood," she said.

Xie Jin picked up the towel and slowly wiped his hair and the golden bloodstains on his body. The blood disappeared after he wiped it, as if melting into the air. He wiped very slowly, rubbing each trace repeatedly, as if it weren't blood but something that shouldn't be seen.

Lin Zhiyi stood two steps away, arms crossed, watching him. "Explain."

Xie Jin paused, the towel frozen mid-air. "Where to start?"

"From the beginning," Lin Zhiyi said. "What are you? What is the Life Contract? Why did you marry me? Why can't you leave me now? And—" She pointed out the window, her voice trembling slightly with suppressed emotion, "Will that thing from earlier appear again?"

Xie Jin put the towel aside and looked up at her. His eyes had returned to their usual distant coldness, but the fatigue at the bottom was undeniable. "I am a dragon. The golden dragon who successfully completed my last scale shedding three hundred years ago, the only pure-blood heir of the Xie dragon clan."

Lin Zhiyi sneered. "Sounds impressive."

"It's a burden," Xie Jin said. He looked down at the spot over his heart, where a faint red mark from burns still remained. "Dragon clans undergo scale shedding every three hundred years. During shedding, we lose our minds and attack our closest kin. If we can't suppress it, we explode and die."

"So the Life Contract is the way to suppress the shedding?"

"Yes." Xie Jin unbuttoned his shirt—the one she had just given him; he frowned uncomfortably—revealing a scar over his heart. "By marrying a human, forming a contract in the name of husband and wife, sharing heartbeats. The steadier the human wife's heartbeat, the better the dragon can stay lucid."

Lin Zhiyi stared at the scar on his chest, suddenly feeling it was like a lock—a lock binding her and this man together.

"So three years ago, you married me to make me your tranquilizer?"

Xie Jin was silent for a moment. "Initially, yes."

"Initially?" Lin Zhiyi raised an eyebrow, her tone rising like a thin blade cutting through. "And later?"

Xie Jin was silent for a long time—so long that Lin Zhiyi thought he wouldn't answer. Then he spoke, his voice lower than before: "Later, I discovered your heartbeat is different from others'."

"What do you mean?"

"Others' heartbeats are soothing," he said, his gaze falling on the golden scar on her wrist, as if afraid to meet her eyes. "Your heartbeat... is a pull."

He said this very quietly, as if saying something he shouldn't. Lin Zhiyi's heart inexplicably skipped a beat, and then she felt annoyed at her own reaction. She gripped the belt of her bathrobe tighter and sneered, "Save it. That's not what you said last night. You said I just needed to fulfill my wifely duties."

Xie Jin lowered his eyes, his long lashes casting a small shadow beneath. "That's because..."

"Because what?"

"Because I didn't dare let you know."

He looked up, the gold in his eyes beginning to churn again, like magma rolling deep inside. He leaned forward slightly, clasping his hands together, knuckles white from tension. "The Life Contract isn't one-way. It ties two people's lives together. If I get hurt, you feel pain; if you're sad, I become manic. These three years I've been distant because I was afraid that getting too close would drag you into this."

Lin Zhiyi laughed bitterly, the sound sharp in the empty living room. "Xie Jin, do you think you're especially noble? To protect me, you gave me the cold shoulder for three years?"

"It's not nobility," Xie Jin said, his voice still calm, but his clasped fingers tightened. "It's cowardice."

Lin Zhiyi froze. She hadn't expected him to say that.

"I was scared," Xie Jin continued, his voice as calm as if he were telling someone else's story. He unclasped his hands and laid them palms up on his knees, as if displaying something irretrievable. "Three hundred years ago, I also had a Life Contract wife."

Lin Zhiyi's heart tightened. She instinctively stepped back half a step, her back pressing against the cold windowsill.

"Her name was Lin Zhi," Xie Jin said. "She was human. On our wedding day, internal strife broke out in the dragon clan. Someone attacked while I was in my shedding period and killed her."

He said it lightly, but Lin Zhiyi saw the knuckles of the hand gripping the towel turn white, veins faintly bulging on the back of his hand.

"When she died, I was in the next room. I heard her voice, but I couldn't move. I could only lie there, listening to her voice grow fainter until it was gone."

The room was silent for a long time. The rain outside suddenly became very clear, every drop seeming to fall on nerves.

"So you married me because I look like her?" Lin Zhiyi's voice was a bit hoarse. She didn't know why she asked the question when she already knew the answer.

Xie Jin looked up, his gaze straight into her eyes. His eyes were deep, as deep as a dry well. "You look exactly like her."

Lin Zhiyi closed her eyes. So that was it.

"And," Xie Jin continued, his voice growing softer, as if he couldn't bear to say it but had to, "the scar on your wrist—the same position and shape as the Life Contract mark she carved before she died."

"So you treat me like her?"

"No."

"No what?"

Xie Jin stood up and took a step toward her. Lin Zhiyi instinctively wanted to step back, but her feet seemed rooted to the spot.

"Lin Zhi is Lin Zhi, and you are you." Xie Jin stopped in front of her, close enough that she could smell the mix of rain and dragon blood on him. He looked down at her, his golden pupils showing a seriousness she had never seen before. "When I married you, I did think you were her reincarnation. But over these three years, watching you laugh, watching you cry, watching you sit alone in the living room late at night waiting for me to come home—"

He paused. His Adam's apple bobbed, as if something was stuck there. "I know you're not her. She wasn't as stubborn as you, and she wouldn't pretend she didn't care when she was dying inside."

Lin Zhiyi's eyes suddenly burned. She turned her face away abruptly, staring at the rain-streaked window. "Don't flatter yourself. I stopped being sad over you long ago."

"I know," Xie Jin said.

His voice was light, like a feather landing on water. Hearing those three words, an inexplicable bitterness surged in Lin Zhiyi's heart. She clenched her teeth and swallowed it down. "I don't love you anymore either."

"I know."

"Then why do you still—"

"But I still love you."

Lin Zhiyi froze. She slowly turned her head to look at him.

Xie Jin's eyes had turned completely gold, the vertical pupils contractile, looking inhuman yet carrying a strange sincerity. His face showed no expression, but something burned in the depths of his eyes—something that made her afraid to look directly.

"These three years I've been cold to you because I love you," he said, his voice low and hoarse. "I know it's ridiculous. But the more I love someone, the more afraid I am to let her get close. I was afraid she would die in front of me like Lin Zhi."

Lin Zhiyi opened her mouth, not knowing what to say. She wanted to argue, to tell him this kind of love was selfish and hurtful, but looking at the fire in his eyes, she couldn't say a word.

"But now," Xie Jin gave a bitter smile, pale and exhausted, "it seems I can't stay away anymore."

He pointed to his chest. The scar was glowing, pulsing like a heartbeat.

"The scale shedding period has come early. At most another month, and I'll completely lose control," he said. "In this month, I need your blood, your heartbeat, your Life Contract to stay lucid. Otherwise..."

"Otherwise you'll die," Lin Zhiyi finished for him. Her voice was very soft, almost drowned out by the rain.

"Yes."

Lin Zhiyi was silent for a long time. She walked to the window, watching the sky gradually brighten outside. The rain had lessened, and a pale gray light showed on the distant horizon, like a piece of paper crumpled and then smoothed out.

"One month of contract marriage," she said, her back to him. "After one month, if you survive, I'll be free?"

"Yes."

"What if you die in a month?"

No answer from behind.

Lin Zhiyi turned around. Xie Jin was looking at her, his golden eyes holding an emotion she couldn't read. It was too deep, like three hundred years of loneliness finally surfacing.

"If I die," he said, "you'll be safe. The Life Contract will break, and the dragon clan won't hunt you anymore. You can start over."

Lin Zhiyi sneered. "You make it sound like you're thinking of me."

"I am thinking of you."

"Then what about these three years?"

Xie Jin was silent. He looked down at the water stains on the floor—rain he had brought in earlier, almost dried now, leaving only faint marks.

Lin Zhiyi walked back in front of him, looked up at him. "Xie Jin, I won't forgive you. I won't forgive what you did to me these three years. But I won't watch you die either."

She reached out and pressed her hand against the scar on his chest. The scar was very hot, hot enough to tingle her palm. "For this month, I'll cooperate. But remember, this isn't love; it's because I still have a conscience."

Xie Jin looked down at her, the gold in his eyes slowly fading back to human. "Okay."

"And," Lin Zhiyi added, "for this month, you're not allowed to hide anything from me. Whatever I ask, you answer."

"Okay."

"Don't talk down to me anymore."

"Okay."

"I want to move back to the Xie family mansion, but we sleep in separate rooms."

"...Okay."

Lin Zhiyi withdrew her hand and turned to walk toward the bathroom. At the door, she stopped without looking back. "Xie Jin."

"Hmm?"

"What you said just now about loving me... is it true?"

There was a long silence behind her. So long that Lin Zhiyi thought he wouldn't answer. Then she heard his very low voice: "It's true."

Lin Zhiyi didn't say anything else. She pushed the door open and went into the bathroom.

She closed the door, slid down, and sat on the floor with her back against it. The faucet wasn't fully closed; a drop of water fell into the tub with a soft sound. She looked down at her wrist. The golden scar was glowing faintly with each heartbeat.

As if responding to something.