Chapter Text
Shi Qingxuan slowly opened his eyes.
He only dimly remembered the trip after leaving Yulong Mountain. They had walked for a while; there must have been a distance-shortening array involved somewhere. He vaguely recalled being carried for a portion of the journey when the darkness overwhelmed the lantern, and realized with a start that he must have fallen asleep along the way.
He sprung up in bed, wincing as his injured arm and leg burned with the movement, and took in his surroundings.
Sunlight filtered through the window along with the soft chirps of birds and insects. The scenery outside appeared to be a lush green forest packed with aging cypress and oak trees. Branches rustled in the gentle breeze, scattering dappled shadows across the floor.
Where was he?
He pulled himself out of bed, using the bamboo walking stick lying against the wall to gingerly maneuver around the house.
The house itself was a simple five-bay structure made of wooden frames and a bamboo roof, composed of a main room and two smaller living spaces on either side, including the one he woke up in. There was a bed, a table, and two chairs, but no other furniture nor sign that anyone lived in the house. He made his way outside and found a smaller building that had the minimal furnishing to serve as a kitchen, but was otherwise equally sparse.
The two buildings were completely empty. There was no sign of He Xuan.
He appeared to be in the clearing of a forest. Judging by the scenery, he guessed that he was somewhere in the southern regions whereas Yulong Mountain had been located in the north. Shi Qingxuan circled the buildings a couple of times but found nothing unusual. As he made his way back inside the larger building, his bad leg got caught on the threshold and he tripped forwards.
As he braced for the earthen floor, an arm suddenly reached around and caught him from behind.
He turned around to meet He Xuan’s scowl. “...Why can’t you stay still anywhere?”
Without waiting for a response, he was half-lifted, half-dragged inside and deposited into a chair.
Shi Qingxuan watched with wide eyes as the demon king wordlessly kneeled in front of him and reached for his injured leg. Pulling his robes aside, He Xuan began to carefully examine the condition of his leg, testing his pressure points and checking his joints.
Shi Qingxuan froze. “H-He Xuan…?”
He Xuan ignored him and continued pressing with firm but gentle fingers. The sight, the sensation — combined with the already-complicated emotions in his heart — was too much. Shi Qingxuan couldn’t stop a full-body shiver from passing though his body, and squirmed a little in the chair.
His movement seemed to break He Xuan out of his trance. The demon’s hands stilled. Finally, he stood up and said in a toneless voice, “Your arm will be fine, but your leg might never return to what it once was. Try to keep weight off it for the next few days.”
Shi Qingxuan experimentally flexed his arm and found that while it still burned, it was indeed getting easier to control. “I… thank you, but to use a treasure like ‘Guanyin’s Blessing’ on this, is kind of…” he trailed off, head hanging, thoughts jumbling together, “...you should have saved it for yourself.”
He Xuan didn’t reply.
“Anyways!” Shi Qingxuan raised his head, hurriedly changing the subject, “I’ve been wondering — where are we?”
“Bogu Town.”
“This is Bogu?” Shi Qingxuan asked in surprise.
“You have a problem with it?”
“No! No, I just— I just expected— ”I had just expected to be taken back to the Nether Water Manor, is all. He shook his head vigorously and said, “...nevermind!”
He Xuan seemed to be able to read his thoughts. “The array of the Black Water Island is designed to draw life force off of living creatures. It’s not a place meant for hosting living humans.”
Shi Qingxuan’s thoughts were unwittingly pulled back to the group of madmen that had been kept on the island. He winced.
…Even so, did He Xuan purposefully avoid the Nether Water Manor because he knew Shi Qingxuan would have a hard time going back? Was he acting out of consideration for Shi Qingxuan’s peace of mind?
A strange emotion seeped through Shi Qingxuan and he smiled in spite of himself. “Thank you, He Xuan. Is, ah, is this house… could this be your old home?”
He Xuan glanced at him then turned to look out the window, expression faraway. “No,” he replied, “My old home is gone now. This is a just a house I own, make use of it as you like.”
Shi Qingxuan let out a breath of relief.
He didn’t know how he could ever have the face to set foot in He Xuan’s home.
—
Days passed as they settled into a strange but compatible routine.
In the beginning, He Xuan would show up at random times, bringing food from the town then disappearing, leaving Shi Qingxuan to his own devices for the majority of the day. Other than being forbidden to move around without his walking stick, he was free to roam and explore the surroundings of the little house. His limbs steadily grew stronger as the days went on. He Xuan reexamined his leg on a few more occasions, and each time Shi Qingxuan’s heart would beat erratically for reasons he didn’t want to think too carefully about.
The fear that welled up at He Xuan’s appearances slowly, but gradually, decreased. He still wasn’t quite sure what to make of their situation. He Xuan wasn’t keeping him locked up; if fact, he had the feeling that if he ever wanted to leave, the demon wouldn’t stop him.
He Xuan never stayed long. They often exchanged less than a dozen sentences, each time leaving Shi Qingxuan with more questions and tiny sparks of disappointment.
From their exchanges, he learned that the house was located in the foot of the mountains surrounding Bogu. The town was close enough to reach by foot but far enough to avoid the hubbub of merchants and travellers.
He also learned that due to He Xuan’s frequent absence there was a rise in weaker ghosts who set their sights on Black Water Island, including several menace-leveled demons who had banded together to launch attacks on his territory. While they were of no threat to a supreme demon king, they were as persistent as insects — quick to escape and difficult to eradicate. He Xuan was frequently required to intervene in the disputes on the island caused by their troublesome ghosts.
But for most of the day, Shi Qingxuan was alone and bored. He dusted the house and cleaned the kitchen. He found a broom amongst a pile rusty tools behind the house and swept the yard. He wandered the mountainside, familiarizing himself with the scenery, roads, and streams. He headed into Bogu and explored the sights of the city. Truly, he was a person who couldn’t stay still at all.
After a few weeks, when his leg was strong enough for him to move around without his walking stick, he began plotting out a garden in the empty area behind the house; Yushi Huang had left him some seeds and the season was right. When he mentioned the idea to He Xuan, the demon merely shrugged, but returned the next day with a spade and some other tools.
Shi Qingxuan was on the verge of making a shovel-related joke but caught himself, realizing that there were some topics he couldn’t bring himself to treat lightly yet. Instead, he sheepishly said, “...Thanks.”
He Xuan continued to come by everyday, sometimes bringing various household items — dinnerware, kitchen utensils, a laundry board, books, ink and paper. Along with the miscellaneous things Shi Qingxuan acquired from the town, small piles of knick-knacks and pieces of furniture began accumulating in the once-empty house.
Until one day, He Xuan didn’t show up.
A few days passed. A week passed.
At first, Shi Qingxuan continued living like normal. He shopped at the markets in Bogu and tended to his garden. He swept the yard.
But the demon king had never disappeared for so long without a word before. In the span of a few weeks, Shi Qingxuan had grown used to seeing He Xuan on a near-daily basis and had begun looking forward to his visits. A sense of restlessness and unease grew within him as the days passed. He had no method of contacting He Xuan, nor a method of finding him.
After nine days without any sign of He Xuan, Shi Qingxuan was beginning to panic. Just as he was debating whether or not to go ask Xie Lian for help, the doors to the house were suddenly thrown open. Shi Qingxuan looked up in surprise and felt his blood run cold.
It was nighttime. He Xuan stood in the doorway, covered in a thick layer of blood and an aura of malicious energy.
“Oh my God! He Xuan?!” Shi Qingxuan leapt up from his seat and dashed over, “Gods, are you okay? What happened?”
“I’m fine.” He Xuan watched his panicked movement with a strange expression. “The blood isn’t mine, it’s the Sea Witch’s.”
“‘Sea Witch of Fuzhou’, the menace-level demon that was giving you trouble before? Is she that strong?” Shi Qingxuan blabbed, hands shaking at his sides. Part of him wanted to reach out and touch He Xuan, to verify that the other was actually real. “Oh God, there’s so much blood, are you hurt anywhere?”
“No, but…” He Xuan winced and brought a hand up to his forehead, swaying a little.
Shi Qingxuan instinctively reached out to steady him by the arm. He frowned. Beneath his fingers He Xuan’s spiritual energy was running wild, internally battling with itself like a turbulent storm. Guiding He Xuan over to one of the chairs, he asked, “What’s wrong with your meridians? Did she get you with a curse?”
“No.” Their gazes met. He Xuan paused, “...Do you know about the concept of ‘ghosts devouring ghosts’?”
“You… devoured, the Witch?” Shi Qingxuan asked, his voice a bit odd to his own ears.
He Xuan nodded. “When a ghost devours another ghost, the stronger spirit absorbs the weaker. But sometimes, there’s a backlash when assimilating the energy, especially when the spirit is strong. I just… need some time to adjust.”
Shi Qingxuan digested his words in silence.
“Here.” He pulled back his sleeves and offered his arms. “While I don’t have spiritual power, I can still help regulate and rebalance your energy. You can use me.”
He Xuan stilled. He looked down, seemingly torn for a moment then cautiously grabbed Shi Qingxuan’s hands with his own. His eyes closed in concentration. A current of agitated spiritual energy began circulating through Shi Qingxuan across their joined hands.
He Xuan seemed to be careful about controlling the transfer of energy, never letting too much spill over for it to be overwhelming. Shi Qingxuan too closed his eyes and focused on tempering the flow of energy, delicately cleansing the lingering malice from the stream. They stayed in silence with their hands joined for a long time. Eventually, the torrent of energy became a gentle spring, ebbing and flowing in unison with the rest of He Xuan’s spiritual power.
Shi Qingxuan opened his eyes as the last of the spiritual energy left him. It was well into the night and the oil lamp had grown dim. He Xuan was still holding onto his hands, face pale as he slowly formed words.
“Thank you, Qingxuan…” He trailed off, slowly closing his eyes and sagging forward against Shi Qingxuan.
Shi Qingxuan froze. It was the first time He Xuan had spoken his name after… everything that had happened. Even before, he could count the number of times Ming Yi had used his name on one hand. Shi Qingxuan shook his head to get rid of the sudden surge of inexplicable emotions.
He Xuan seemed to have fallen asleep, but was still covered in a layer of blood. Shi Qingxuan carefully removed his outer robes before laying him down on the bed. He dipped a clean cloth into the water basin and busied himself with cleaning the specks of dried blood from He Xuan’s face.
Ghosts didn’t need to breathe, so in the dim light He Xuan lay perfectly still. Shi Qingxuan took the opportunity to study his face — heavy brows, deep-set eyes, and a sharp jawline — his real appearance still painfully familiar. It was difficult for him to reconcile this peaceful sleeping face with the face that had haunted his dreams on many nights in the past two years. He Xuan’s skin was much paler than any living human’s when he wasn’t wearing a fake appearance. His body was cold, and if it were not for the faint flow of spiritual energy that Shi Qingxuan could still detect, he was truly no different from a corpse.
Without him realizing, his hands lingered for a bit longer than necessary over He Xuan’s cool skin. Hurriedly withdrawing his hands and mentally scolding himself for acting imprudent, he pulled the covers over He Xuan and laid down on the floor, using the thick coat Yushi Huang had given him as a makeshift blanket.
The next morning came, but He Xuan showed no signs of waking.
Shi Qingxuan frowned. He tried to remember everything he knew about ghosts. How long do ghosts usually sleep for? Do ghosts even need to sleep at all?
He should have asked Xie Lian or Yushi Huang more about ghosts when he had the chance!
Considering that it was He Xuan, he probably will be fine — Shi Qingxuan decided, and busied himself with mundane tasks for the rest of the day. He tried his best to wash the dried blood out of Xe Huan’s robes in the stream and hung them to dry in the yard. The demon continued to sleep until evening, just as Shi Qingxuan was putting rice on and getting dinner started in the kitchen.
Shi Qingxuan was busy preparing food and washing vegetables, lightly humming to himself. He didn’t notice He Xuan stepping into the kitchen until the latter spoke, “Qingxuan.”
Shi Qingxuan let out a short yelp and dropped the squash he was holding.
“You’re awake!” he turned around, heart hammering.
He Xuan’s face still showed some signs of lingering fatigue, but otherwise looked much better than the previous night. He seemed slightly wary as he asked, “How long was I asleep for?”
“About a day,” Shi Qingxuan replied, “How are you feeling?”
He Xuan glanced outside at his robes hanging on the laundry pole.
“...I’m fine. I usually sleep it off,” he responded, looking solemn, “but it usually lasts longer.”
“Oh. That’s good, then!”
They stared at each other in awkward silence for a few moments, then He Xuan’s gaze fell to the table behind him. “You’re cooking?”
Shi Qingxuan brightened. “Oh, yeah! You’re hungry, right? Let me make something for you.”
He Xuan walked over and muttered quietly, “I didn’t know you knew how to cook.”
“Of course I can!” Shi Qingxuan preened, “I learned from the villagers at Yulong Mountain. I mean, I had to make myself useful somehow, so I helped out with dinner all the time— ”
He Xuan watched him with what almost appeared to be a light of amusement in his eyes. “...Alright.”
With He Xuan watching, the fragrant aroma of stir-fry soon filled the kitchen. That night they ate around the small table, and Shi Qingxuan bombarded him with all sorts of questions.
Do ghosts need to eat? No.
Do ghosts need to sleep? Not necessarily.
Between him and Hua Cheng, who’s stronger? It depends.
Hua Cheng once said that he needed to hibernate, is that true? A glare.
Did he have to devour other ghosts to survive?
He Xuan blinked. “No. I don’t.”
He studied Shi Qingxuan with a thoughtful expression, as if picking up a common thread between all of his questions. “Food, drink, sleep, air — a ghost doesn’t need any of those to survive. While it may not be a fulfilling existence, for a ghost like me or Hua Cheng, there’s only two things we need to stay in this realm.”
“What are they?”
He Xuan held up two fingers. “A will, and a purpose. While a ghost is born out of unfulfilled desires, for it to continuing existing, it needs both. If a ghost has a will but no purpose, then it will eventually lose all semblance of humanity and become no better than a demonic beast. If a ghost has a purpose but no resolve, then it will inevitably fade away into nothingness with time.”
Shi Qingxuan was quiet for a long while as he pondered He Xuan’s words. To what unimaginable depths must He Xuan’s hatred have extended to have driven him during Tonglu Mountain, during those hundreds of years? He folded his arms close to his chest and lowered his head, then spoke with a small voice, “...Does that mean… if you still exist even now… then you still aren’t satisfied?”
Are you still unsatisfied with your revenge?
He couldn’t see He Xuan’s expression but heard his quiet reply, “...No, I’m not after revenge anymore.”
Shi Qingxuan glanced up from his folded arms, eyes glistening. “Huh? What? But you just said— so… there’s another reason keeping you in this world?”
Inexplicably, there seemed to be a shadow of a smile at the corner of He Xuan’s lips. “Something like that.”
—
After that night, their routine shifted as they began to eat dinner together on a regular basis. Shi Qingxuan discovered that not only could He Xuan also cook, he was particularly skilled, especially at the region’s southern style. As time went on He Xuan would show up more frequently in the afternoon and cook while Shi Qingxuan helped out in the kitchen, then they would sit down for a meal and talk until night fell.
Conversation between them had become an easy back-and-forth. Shi Qingxuan made jokes, laughed, complained, and gossiped. By silent agreement they both avoided certain topics but nonetheless, Shi Qingxuan was amazed at how easy it was to fall back into the comfortable rhythm they once had.
It was both familiar, and new.
He Xuan looked like Ming Yi, scowled like Ming Yi, and had the mannerisms of Ming Yi.
But it was as if Shi Qingxuan had always been looking at the reflection of the moon on the surface of the water, and was finally, finally catching glimpses of the person beneath the mask. He Xuan’s tone, his speech, and his actions all carried subtle differences from the friend Shi Qingxuan remembered. He Xuan seemed cold on the surface but was more receptive of Shi Qingxuan than Ming Yi had ever been. He was calm where Ming Yi had been irritable. He was expressive where Ming Yi had been reticent. Sometimes brash, sometimes cautious, it felt like He Xuan too was figuring out how to act around him — as if Ming Yi had been a carefully constructed facade that he had grown into, melded with, and was slowly relearning how to peel off.
By contrast, in the few months of knowing He Xuan, Shi Qingxuan realized that he had never really made the effort to get to know Ming Yi in the previous several hundreds of years. He had truly been a fool to proclaim ‘you are my best friend’ so adamantly, so mindlessly, when he never understood him in the first place.
One day, on a rare event when He Xuan accompanied him into the town for the markets, he remembered something. “You’re using a distance-shortening array to travel — the one on the outskirts of the city, right?”
He Xuan nodded, “Yes.”
“Well, I was just thinking, doesn’t it take a lot of spiritual energy to travel between here and Black Water Island? Back when I was still— ah, back when I used them, I remember it always being a difficult spell.”
“It’s fine,” He Xuan replied, “After the Witch the rest of the ghosts scattered. There’s fewer attacks on the island these days.”
“Oh, that’s great!” Shi Qingxuan exclaimed. “Why don’t you stay at the house here, then…?” he asked hesitantly.
...What was he saying? He Xuan had an entire palace that was far nicer than a little house in the forest! How could he expect a supreme demon king to live like a servant? Shi Qingxuan frantically waved his hand and quickly backtracked, “Nevermind! I mean, of course you’re free to do as you like, since it’s your house, after all! But I’m sure the manor is much more comfortable!”
He Xuan watched as he floundered then looked away, replying in a pensive tone, “Not now, but maybe someday."
“...Either way, Bogu is a really nice town,” A light smile played on Shi Qingxuan’s lips as they walked around the bustling markets. “It’s a decent size, lively, but not too loud. There’s good food and drink, and the people are a welcoming bunch.”
They were passing in front of a fabric shop. Wooden bolts of brightly-colored cloth hung from racks in shop’s interior as dresses and sashes of dyed silks fluttered in the wind in the storefront display. Shi Qingxuan’s gaze lingered.
“...Though I suppose, there are some things I miss,” he added wistfully, almost entirely to himself.
When they arrived back at the house, Shi Qingxuan was struck by a sudden inspiration. “Why don’t you set up a permanent distance-shortening array, right here? That should be a lot more convenient — you won’t have to walk the extra distance or redraw the seal everytime anymore.”
He Xuan looked around the yard thoughtfully, then agreed, “I could set up a new connection point here.”
Within a few days, a simple and unobstructive shack was constructed next to the house. He Xuan drew a complex seal of swirling symbols on the door with cinnabar.
“It’s done,” he stepped back, “I’ve set up the seal so that it’s restricted from the network; no one else will be able to use it.”
Shi Qingxuan grinned.
—
As the days passed peacefully, another realization made itself known in his heart —
The feelings that he had been carefully ignoring since the beginning had taken hold in his chest.
It wasn’t like he had never experienced the proverbial whirlwind of peach blossoms; back when they were gods, he had harbored somewhat of a tender affection for his sullen-faced companion, dragging the other on countless journeys that were less about godly duty and more about winning his attention. It had been safe and harmless, and all seemed like a blissful dream.
But they could never go back to those days. There was too much blood spilt between them, too many ill-fated circumstances for something new and fragile to grow.
Yet somewhere in his heart, the feelings he tried to squash stubbornly refused to die. Every time He Xuan brushed past him in the small kitchen he became hyper-aware of his surroundings. Every time he held He Xuan’s gaze for too long he felt his skin burn. Every accidental touch set his nerves on fire.
His head was a mess; guilt and shame settled deep in his stomach — why did it have to be He Xuan, of all people?
Ge, I don’t have the face to meet you in the next life…
So Shi Qingxuan continued to push his unwanted feelings down, as spring bled into summer.
—
Shi Qingxuan picked up a jar of rice wine while shopping one day.
He was in a good mood. The brewer told him that they had just unsealed a new batch made fresh from last autumn’s harvest. The sweet aroma of new wine was thick in the air, the timing just right for a moon viewing, and Shi Qingxuan couldn’t help but be tempted.
That night, he laughed made a toast with He Xuan under the brilliant full moon.
It was a hot night late into summer, so they moved the table outside to eat under the stars. The food was delicious and the local wine sweet, the faint fragrance of osmanthus flowers permeating the air. Insects chirped softly in the distance as the moon bathed everything in a gentle white light. Shi Qingxuan couldn’t tell which was more intoxicating — the atmosphere or the wine.
He threw back another cup and peered at He Xuan across the table. The demon was relaxed against a chair, long hair fanning down his back, the moonlight catching perfectly on the dip of his collarbones. Shi Qingxuan felt warm and tipsy with alcohol thrumming comfortably in his veins.
“Was it painful, in Tonglu Mountain?” he asked, his heartbeat loud in his ears.
He Xuan sipped on his own wine and met his eyes. This was the sort of topic they usually avoided.
“Yes.” he replied.
Shi Qingxuan tilted his head back to look at the sky and spoke in a quiet voice, “I wish… I wish I could have met you, before— before everything happened, back when you were alive. I think you would have been a great man. I think we could have… really been friends.”
Before He Xuan could say anything, Shi Qingxuan suddenly slammed his fists on the table and tossed back another cup.
“I mean it! If there wasn’t, wasn’t any Venerable of whatever, then we would have really been friends! You would have been a great Wind Master, better than I ever was. I can see it now — ‘Wind Master Xuan’, stalwart guardian of the southern wind, the indomitable yet gentle force,” Shi Qingxuan pointed at him and gestured excitedly with rosy cheeks, “And I, I would have been in Middle Heaven! We definitely would have met…”
He Xuan hid a smile in his cup. “Oh? And how would we meet?”
Shi Qingxuan rubbed his forehead, considering the question seriously. “...You’d save me from a demon, like a general on a white horse.”
He Xuan chuckled. “But I would be the Wind Master, not a general, remember?”
Shi Qingxuan crossed his arms and pouted, “You can be both an elemental master and a general, anyway, the point is… the point is that you would sweep me off my feet, and then I’d force you to give me your personal spiritual array password… then we’d become friends! You’d never be able to get rid of me.”
“Alright, alright. You’re drunk.”
“I’m not that drunk.” Shi Qingxuan retorted with a grin.
He Xuan stared at his cup in contemplation for a while, then said quietly, “...I think you made a great Wind Master, though.”
Eventually the wine grew low, and He Xuan said, “It’s getting late. I should be off.”
Shi Qingxuan was resting his head across his arms on the table, eyes closed. “Why do you always have to leave? I want to spend more time with you…”
He Xuan reached over and ruffled his hair. Shi Qingxuan leaned into the gesture.
“Go to bed, Qingxuan.”
Shi Qingxuan made an unintelligible noise. Sighing, He Xuan got up and carried him inside. Shi Qingxuan rested his head against He Xuan’s chest and murmured, “I don’t like being alone. I like being with you.”
He Xuan deposited him onto the bed, but Shi Qingxuan refused to let go.
“...Stay…” he mumbled.
He Xuan looked down at the sleepy figure clinging to his sleeve. He could leave if he wanted to.
He looked at the bed. It was large enough to fit them both.
He hadn’t slept in a while, anyway.
—
Shi Qingxuan woke up with a dull throb in his head. He had been drunk, but apparently not drunk enough to escape the vague recollection of some very embarrassing things he might have said the previous night. He groaned, turning to curl further into the cool embrace of the pillows.
After a few moments, his brain caught up with his senses and his eyes snapped open. Shi Qingxuan froze. He Xuan was sleeping on his side next to him, and from his distance he could see every detail of the demon’s peaceful sleeping face. His usually furrowed brows were smooth and a few strands of long hair were falling into his lashes, creating a surprisingly vulnerable scene that made Shi Qingxuan’s heart flutter. He had somehow rolled into He Xuan’s space during the night and one of the demon’s arms was casually thrown across his waist.
Shi Qingxuan yelped as he scrambled backwards, heart pounding, brain backpedaling as he tried to recall exactly how they had ended up in this situation. Woken by the disturbance, He Xuan’s eyes opened into slits as he scowled at him, “...Don’t be so loud in the morning.”
“I… I…”
He Xuan yawned and sat up slowly, as if completely unperturbed by their close proximity. The demon gave him a once-over and casually got out of the bed.
“...Well, do you want some breakfast?”
—
After that incident, Shi Qingxuan was very careful about not drinking too much around He Xuan. Thankfully, the demon never brought up that awkward morning again.
Summer rolled into autumn rolled into winter. One day, out of the blue, He Xuan asked, “Where’s your fan?”
“Hm?”
“Your fan. You still have it, right?”
“Oh yeah— I never did thank you for this,” Shi Qingxuan pulled the broken Wind Master fan from his robes and tapped it in He Xuan’s direction. “Thank you for returning it to me, but…” he trailed off, smiling wistfully and spreading the fan with both hands, “...I broke it again.”
He Xuan offered his hand and Shi Qingxuan passed the fan over. The paper body was tattered and a few of the wooden ribs had snapped as a result of his final display of power as the Wind Master more than two years ago. The ‘feng’ character was no longer recognizable. He Xuan carefully closed the fan and tucked it into his own robes. “Lend it to me for a bit.”
“Sure, but I don’t think it will do you any good now. Unless…” Shi Qingxuan’s gaze flitted to He Xuan’s face, voice uncertain, “There’s no point in fixing it again.”
He Xuan didn’t respond.
A few weeks later, He Xuan laid the fan on the table and slid it back to him.
Shi Qingxuan gingerly picked it up and unfolded it. The broken ribs had been replaced with new bamboo that had been selected with care, making it indistinguishable from the original wood of the guard. The fan had been remounted with new paper with the same level of skill as the very original he cultivated, all those hundreds of years ago. Even the paper was the same. He ran his fingers across the surface, relishing in the comforting sense of familiarity.
Divine weapons, however, could not be so easily fixed.
Even though the craftsmanship was meticulous, it was not the same Wind Master fan. Even if he had his powers, he probably would not be able to use it to wield the wind like he once had. It was a very nice, but ordinary, folding fan.
Most notably, the surface of the fan was blank. He Xuan reached over and placed a bottle of ink and a brush on the table in front of him. Shi Qingxuan stared at the fan, then the ink, then back at the fan. Infinite possibilities seemed to unfold on the blank screen before him and, in a moment of inspiration, he turned the fan around and set it down in front of He Xuan.
“Would you write it for me?” he asked shyly.
He Xuan looked surprised, but picked up the brush. He held the brush in the air for a few moments, then dipped the brush into the ink and wrote with slow, confident strokes.
He Xuan set the brush down and turned the fan back to him. On the fan was a single character — ‘xuan’ — the same character in both of their names, the same character that tied their fates together. ‘Profound’ and ‘mysterious’ indeed was the fate that led them to this moment. It felt like there was a special meaning in He Xuan bestowing this particular character to him, as if along with it the circle of fate had finally been completed. It felt right. A warmness slowly bloomed in his heart, spreading to his fingers and upwards to his cheeks. He smiled, carefully setting the fan aside to dry.
A tiny part of him thrilled at thought of He Xuan signing his own name, like a claim of ownership.
“Thank you,” feeling bold, he caught He Xuan’s wrist and grinned at him, “Will you lend me some spiritual power too? Haha, just kiddin—”
He Xuan reversed his his grip and clasped Shi Qingxuan’s wrist in return. Before he could react, He Xuan’s other palm darted forward and made contact with his chest, glowing with a white energy. The resulting force would have thrown him off his chair if it were not for He Xuan holding him in place.
Shi Qingxuan heaved several deep breaths, then shakily brought both hands in front of his eyes.
Spiritual energy! It was his spiritual energy!
He Xuan hadn’t just lent him spiritual energy, he had returned the spiritual energy that was taken from him that night by the Venerable of Empty Words!
...He Xuan had been the one controlling the Venerable. If he could take spiritual energy, then it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility for him to give it back.
“What… no— no, no no, I don’t want this!” Shi Qingxuan cried, falling out of his chair, “Why did you— take it back!” He looked at He Xuan in desperation. “...Take it back, please, I don’t want it. This… this isn’t mine!”
He Xuan walked over and crouched down next to him. He clasped his shoulder with a firm hand, grounding him with the single point of contact. “I’ve only returned what was rightfully yours. Like you said, you were an official of Middle Heaven once.”
Hesitantly, Shi Qingxuan tested the extent of the power. It indeed felt a lot weaker compared to when he was the Wind Master.
He slowly steadied his breathing. “...Why?”
With his other hand, He Xuan reached out and tucked a few strands of loose hair behind his ear, the gesture strangely intimate. “There are some things you miss, right?”
A complicated emotion went through Shi Qingxuan as he remembered the day at the market. He hadn’t expected the demon to be so perceptive, or perhaps, he hadn’t expected He Xuan to understand.
Shi Qingxuan shook his head and let out a long sigh. “That’s not the point. There’s no meaning to the punishment if you give it back. I don’t deserve it.”
He Xuan frowned. “I’ve changed my mind, is all.”
“You… why are you being so kind?”
He Xuan’s grip on his shoulder tightened painfully. Shi Qingxuan winced.
“Do you expect me to hurt you? Do you expect to be punished forever?”
“...No, I’m scared.” He murmured, pulling his legs up to his chest and burying his head in his knees. “You… you’re always kind. This year you’ve given me so many things. I’m scared you’re giving me too much, when I owe you so much, and can’t repay a single thing.”
The pressure on his shoulder disappeared. He Xuan was silent for a long time. From Shi Qingxuan’s position he could not see what sort of expression the other was making.
Eventually, He Xuan stood up, dusted off his robes, and spoke with a distant voice, “Qingming Festival is coming up soon, I’ll see you again on that day. There’s something I’ll have for you, then.”
—
It was early spring; a full year had passed since he and He Xuan had met again.
Ever since the night He Xuan returned his spiritual power, the demon had not appeared once. They had parted on an unpleasant note, but Qingming was only a few weeks away, so Shi Qingxuan tried to put worry out of his mind and focus on living normally.
He stood in the yard and ran his fingers along the familiar spine of his fan. Tentatively, he snapped it open and tried channeling spiritual power through it. A small gust of wind whirled around him, gentle and comforting, like the embrace of an old friend.
Laughter bubbled through him. He twirled in the yard and made a shower of dancing leaves.
After a few moments, he stilled and let the leaves rain down around him. The black character on the fan stood stark against the paper in He Xuan’s penmanship. When he told He Xuan that he was scared, he had meant it. The peaceful status quo of companionship over the past year had been safe, but recently he couldn’t help but feel like they were reaching the verge of something else, like they were barrelling towards some kind of irrevocable change in their relationship.
It made him uneasy.
On the day of the festival, Shi Qingxuan was cautiously waiting outside of the house when He Xuan stepped out of the distance-shortening array. A greeting was on his lips, but he stopped dead when he noticed a silk-wrapped bundle hanging from the other man’s hand. It was an inconspicuous package, but he was unable to tear his eyes away from it.
Qingming Festival, tomb-sweeping day.
Every hair stood up on Shi Qingxuan’s body as an overwhelming sense of dread engulfed him.
He Xuan wordlessly held up his hand and offered him the bundle.
Shi Qingxuan received it with shaking hands.
He knew; he knew what was wrapped in the silk. His head felt like it was underwater as he struggled to breathe, ears ringing. Slowly, he sagged to his knees. An indeterminable amount of time had passed before he registered that He Xuan was speaking to him.
“...with this, I’m declaring our debts cleared. You don’t owe me anything anymore, nor I you.”
“...Huh?” Shi Qingxuan blinked and looked up.
He Xuan’s face was flat, voice distant and emotionless, a complete shift from the person Shi Qingxuan had grown to know over the past few months. It scared him, but what scared him more was an unsettling sense that He Xuan was going somewhere far away.
He Xuan turned to leave. Shi Qingxuan cried out, “Wait!” He struggled to his feet, clutching the bundle tightly to his chest, and asked, “What are you talking about? Where are you going?”
He Xuan paused at the door of the distance-shortening array. “Shouldn’t you have other priorities, right now?”
Shi Qingxuan froze. He gripped the bundle tighter. There was something he needed to do. There was somewhere he needed to go. “Yes, but…”
“There’s nothing keeping you here anymore. Go anywhere you like.”
All of his words were wrong. Shi Qingxuan suddenly got the impression that there was an important misunderstanding somewhere between them, but things were happening too fast and his mind was still sluggish with shock. “Wait— He Xuan, wait!” Shi Qingxuan yelled as He Xuan stepped through the door, “Hang on, don’t go!”
The door closed, and Shi Qingxuan was left alone in the middle of the clearing, dumbfounded.
“I… I’ll be right back! Do you hear me?!” he yelled into the emptiness.
“I swear I’ll come back, so don’t leave…”
—
Ge… I’m here.
A stone memorial stood before Shi Qingxuan, ‘Water Master Wudu’ inscribed on its surface in proud, dignified lettering. It was his first time setting foot in the Immortal City after losing his godhood, his first time seeing and first time paying tribute to Shi Wudu’s grave. He kneeled and bowed several times, then lit a new offering of incense.
Ge, you can finally be at peace now.
You don’t have to worry about me anymore. I’ve grown up. I’m able to take care of myself now.
You might not approve of the choices I’ve made, but I’m not a kid anymore.
I’ve finally figured it out, I know what I need to do. I pray that you can forgive me in the next life.
I will be fine from now on.
So, ge, please rest in peace. I miss you, take care.
He straightened up as he finished praying. After deliberating for a few moments, he removed the longevity lock necklace from his neck and hung it around the memorial — he didn’t need it anymore; he would always carry the memory of his brother in his heart.
Pei Ming, who had been keeping a respectable distance to give him some privacy, approached silently. He clasped his hands together in a bow towards Shi Wudu’s memorial and spoke in a sombre voice, “Shui-shixiong, may you rest in peace now.”
Shi Qingxuan turned to bow to him as well, “General Pei, thank you for bringing me here on such short notice. And thank you for looking after my brother’s grave.” The fresh offering of flowers and incense had not escaped his notice.
“Ling Wen would come pay her respects too, but her freedom is limited. Needless to say, we both owe you our most sincere gratitude for bringing closure to our dear friend,” Pei Ming spoke with more seriousness than usual. He hesitated, then frowned at Shi Qingxuan. “Qingxuan, are you really going to go back? To that… man?”
“Yes.”
“You can always stay. Your brother would have wanted that for you.” There was an frustrated edge to his tone, almost pleading.
Shi Qingxuan smiled and softly shook his head. “I know. But still, I’ve made my decision. Take care, General Pei.”
His task was done. He turned and walked out of heaven.
As he left the Immortal City, Shi Qingxuan’s walk became a pace, then a sprint. He could not explain the urgency in his heart — as if pulled by an invisible force, he knew with a certainty that he needed to see He Xuan as soon as possible. When he landed in Bogu, he dashed through the yard and into the distance-shortening array in one breath.
Will this even work?
He haphazardly concentrated his spiritual power on the door, and yelled, “Nether Water Manor!”
The door flung open. Before him was a dark corridor, the salty tang of the sea hanging heavy in the stagnant air. How ironic it was that he was relieved to return when, the last time he was here, he had been desperately looking for an escape?
He leapt out and ran blindly through the corridors, yelling, “He Xuan! Are you here?” He rushed by some small water ghosts and doubled back. “Wait, you guys! Where is your master?”
The ghosts, who appeared to be weak palace servants, seemed alarmed and scared by his presence but dutifully led him to an inner chamber. He was about to charge in but the ghosts stopped him, crying, “Wait, young lord! The master had forbidden anyone from entering this chamber! It’s best if you…”
“He Xuan! I’m here!” He yelled at the door.
The wooden doors opened outwards. The servants squeaked in fear and scurried off. He Xuan stood in the doorway, a look of surprise flashing across his face before he scowled. “...Stop being so loud.”
Shi Qingxuan’s heart was in his throat. He took a few deep breaths and started, “He Xuan… We need to talk.”
He Xuan sighed. “Why did you come back? Like I said, there’s nothing here for you anymore.”
“No!” Shi Qingxuan blurted out, “No, that’s not it! Did you— did you think I would just leave once I got everything back from you? Do you think that’s the reason I’ve been staying with you?”
He Xuan looked at him strangely, “No. I thought you were staying because of a debt — and now that debt is cleared.”
His head was spinning; his heart felt like it was going to burst from the flood of a thousand conflicting emotions. What had He Xuan been thinking all this time? He reached out and grabbed He Xuan’s sleeve. “...Did you think I’ve been… forcing myself to stay? Don’t you remember what I said from the beginning? You haven’t been keeping me in Bogu — all along I’ve been staying because I want to… I don’t want to go back to Heaven or Rain Master or anywhere else… He Xuan… it’s you. It’s always been you. I want to stay with you, I want to keep being together with you! Even if it’s selfish, I… I…”
He was suddenly overcome with a sense of daring, and, moving without thinking, he stepped up on his tiptoes and pressed a kiss to the corner of He Xuan’s mouth.
From his angle, the view of the room behind He Xuan slowly emerged from the darkness. It took him several moments to realize the scene he was looking at: an altar with four urns in a row. Like a soap bubble bursting, the perfect illusion ending, he froze as the realization of what he was doing sunk in.
By the Heavens, what was he doing?!
Without even daring to glance at He Xuan’s face, he turned on his feet and bolted.
“—Qingxuan, wait!”
White noise filled his head as he scrambled down the corridor he came from, blindly turning corners and running down passageways. He internally wailed. What was he doing? What was he thinking?!
He Xuan had a fiancée. He Xuan was going to be married. He heaved as guilt twisted his guts into painful knots.
She died because of him.
What right did he have to steal her place?
After they had finally, finally, reached an understanding, how could he let his careless emotions destroy the one chance of salvaging the relationship they had left?
A few moments into his frantic escape, he felt a firm tug on the back of his robes and stopped struggling, not really expecting to outrun a supreme demon king in his own palace. He covered his burning face with both hands and lowered himself to the ground, facing away from He Xuan.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I couldn’t… I didn’t… I didn’t mean to...” he began mumbling incomprehensibly.
He Xuan cut him off, “Qingxuan, look at me.”
“I’m sorry, please forget it… t-there’s something wrong with me.” A sob wracked through his body as tears fell from his face.
With a sigh, He Xuan walked around and crouched in front of him. He grabbed both of Shi Qingxuan’s hands with his own and gently peeled them away from his face.
“Stop crying.”
“...” Shi Qingxuan resolutely refused to meet his eyes. The silence was only punctuated by his occasional sniffling.
He Xuan wordlessly pulled him up to his feet. The demon studied his tear-stained face in silence for a while, then spoke with an uncharacteristic softness.
“Qingxuan, I’ve long forgiven you.”
“...”
“There’s something I need you to understand: I don’t want you to feel that you owe me. I don’t want you to feel that you are obligated to me. I don’t like how you think you deserve to be punished for the crimes you didn’t commit.”
“...”
“You said you were afraid of me giving too much, but if you are willing to stay with me, then there’s still one thing left.”
“...?”
“The very last thing. My life, my fate — this time, I give it to you willingly.”
Before Shi Qingxuan had time to process his words, his right arm was being pulled forwards and he felt something cold come in contact with his skin.
He looked down.
He Xuan had slipped a black jade bracelet onto his wrist. As if in a trance, he slowly held his hand up and studied it. The stone looked like the highest quality of jade, an intense semi-transparent black with a smoky cloud curling around inside, as if the very torrents of the ocean itself have been crystalized around his wrist. He’d seen enough divine artefacts in his life to know at a glance that it was made of no ordinary material.
Somewhere in the back of Shi Qingxuan’s mind, the faint memory of a rumor he’d once heard began to surface.
An old tradition in the ghost realm.
Shi Qingxuan was suddenly frozen to the spot, unable to tear his eyes away from his hand. Against his pale skin, the black bracelet looked like a shackle.
His brain was working on overdrive. There must be a mistake somewhere. This can’t be, can’t be what he thinks this is—
He Xuan grasped his hand with both hands. Shi Qingxuan’s gaze flew up to meet He Xuan’s eyes and found an unexpected tenderness that took his breath away.
“Shi Qingxuan, second master of the house of Shi, ‘Young Lord who Poured Wine’ and former Wind Master,” He Xuan enunciated each word slowly and carefully, “this time, I promise myself to you. Would you be willing to become mine?”
The floor fell away from underneath Shi Qingxuan’s feet. He suddenly felt like he was falling, his mind blank and his hammering heart drowning out the sound of everything around him. The world narrowed until the person before his eyes became the only thing that existed. A sudden warmness surprised him as tears began to roll down his cheeks anew.
In a split second, he threw himself against He Xuan’s chest and was caught by a familiar pair of arms. He buried his tear-stained face in He Xuan’s shoulder and whispered in a hoarse voice, “...yes, if you’d have me.”
The next thing he blurted out was, “I want to have a big celebration at the wedding.”
He Xuan laughed. It was a deep, reverberating sound that Shi Qingxuan had never heard before. Wrapped in He Xuan’s embrace, he felt the vibrations against his skin. Nothing was clearer in that moment than the realization that he never, ever wanted He Xuan to stop laughing. He was dizzy and overwhelmed, heart beating so hard against his ribcage that he wondered if it were possible to die from feeling so much at once.
He Xuan tucked his head against Shi Qingxuan’s and spoke right against his ear, voice full of promise, “Yes, you’ll get everything you want.”
Shi Qingxuan shuddered. His entire head felt feverish and he could only bury himself further into He Xuan’s cool, welcoming embrace. Wrapped in He Xuan’s arms, he gazed at the black bracelet on his wrist in wonder.
Not a shackle, but a promise.
His grip tightened on He Xuan’s robes as he thought back to the altar room. “May I… may I pay my respects to your family?”
He Xuan paused for a moment then lightly shook his head, hold tightening on Shi Qingxuan. “Not here,” he said, looking around the island, “I want to bring you to meet them properly. It’s about time I laid them to rest, someplace better.”
—
Two figures stood before a stone memorial in the mountainside of Bogu. The sunlight was bright, the incense was new, and the fresh mountain breeze carried with it a shower of fallen petals.
Silently, the two figures bowed together.
—
There was an uproarious celebration in the small town of Bogu.
A wedding was taking place at the finest winehouse in the city, and the townsfolk were abuzz with excitement. Rumor had it that the couple recently moved to Bogu from somewhere far away and had booked the whole winehouse with free wine for all. Even more auspicious was the fact that the couple had the surname ‘He,’ just like the hero of old in their famous bloody fire social!
Prosperous! Truly prosperous!
As the red bridal sedan approached the winehouse, the townsfolk gathered around all craned their necks to catch a glimpse of the rumored beauty. The bride stepped out, dressed in a magnificent brocade wedding dress of red and gold with a red veil covering her face, the fabric billowing around her with an air of weightlessness.
The inside of the winehouse was packed full of people, many of whom seemed to be visitors from other regions, wearing a strange range of expressions varying from joy to barely-contained outrage.
Had any of the townsfolk been more perceptive or had practiced cultivation, they might have seen a truly strange and spectacular sight. For example, had our friend Heaven’s Eye been present, he’d have seen half of the visitors in the room glowing with a brilliant divine energy and the other half shrouded in unmistakably demonic auras!
But it went largely unnoticed by the excited citizens of Bogu, whose collective attention was glued onto the two figures in red at the center of the room.
A lady in green robes was holding the ceremony. For some reason, the bride and groom only bowed two times, instead of the traditional three. The townsfolk held their breath as the groom reached forward and lifted the red veil—
The entire room seemed to let out a gasp at the sight of the bride.
Her face was delicate, her cheeks rosy. Her hair was intricately pinned up, exposing the pale column of her neck. She possessed a carefree grace like that of the clear autumn breeze. More beautiful than the moon, more radiant than the sun, with finely drawn brows and delicate painted lips, she was the absolute image of a divine goddess!
Then she smiled at the groom, eyes glittering with unrestrained happiness.
Truly, looks that could move mountains and topple empires!
In time, the couple would go on to establish themselves as respected cultivators in the town of Bogu. The groom — a man named He Xuan — would be known for his sharp gaze and cool demeanor, and the lady would be known for her unparalleled beauty and her elegant techniques with a fan. They would live quietly and peacefully on the outskirts of Bogu, protecting the town from ghosts and demons alike.
At the present moment, however, the wine was just beginning to flow. The bride fluttered around the room, thanking and chatting with the guests while the groom stayed back and exchanged few words with others. The energy in the winehouse was palpable as more and more toasts were made to the health and happiness of the new couple. In the midst of the rowdy celebration, nobody noticed the bride and groom slip out of sight.
—
Shi Qingxuan giggled. “Did you see Pei Ming’s expression? He looked like he was going to whip out a sword right there if it weren’t for Lord Rain Master. He was really angry with me.”
“I saw.”
Shi Qingxuan was back to his usual form, hair loose and dressed in simple red robes. “Hmm, what about you?” he asked, carefulling filling two cups of wine to the brim and carrying them over, “Did you have a good chat with Crimson Rain Sought Flower?”
“He was insufferable as always.”
Shi Qingxuan laughed. He sat next to He Xuan on the bed and offered him one of the cups.
“Now, here’s the important part — do you want me like this, or do you prefer like earlier?” He asked with a coy smile, eyes glittering.
He Xuan accepted the wine and caught his hand before it could retreat. He pressed a kiss to the inside of his wrist, on his pulse. “I want you, in any way you like.”
Shi Qingxuan’s breath hitched.
Together, they crossed their arms and drank.
To a long life.
To a long time.
To be together, forevermore.
Shi Qingxuan set his cup aside and draped his arms loosely around He Xuan’s shoulders, face inches away, smiling with open adoration, “...Thank you, for going along with my whims again, husband.”
He Xuan’s hands settled themselves comfortably, possessively, on his waist as he leaned forward to capture his lips.
—
Seasons came and went, and it was autumn once again.
Shi Qingxuan propped himself up with his elbows on top of He Xuan’s chest, pouting slightly as he studied the other’s face under the moonlight. After a while, he reached out and poked He Xuan on the cheek.
Frowning, He Xuan caught his hand and asked, “What are you doing?”
Shi Qingxuan reached forward with his other hand to pinch He Xuan’s face, squashing and stretching his cheek. With a huff, He Xuan caught both wrists and leveled him with a half-hearted glare.
“I was just thinking, you really didn’t change your face much when you were pretending to be the Earth Master. You… didn’t take Ming Yi’s appearance, did you?” Shi Qingxuan frowned.
“No.” He Xuan let go of his wrists.
“What if someone in Heaven had known what the real Ming Yi looked like?”
“Then they just had bad luck.”
It wasn’t so much a joke as the truth and they both knew it; He Xuan would have personally disposed of anyone in heaven who knew the real Ming Yi.
Shi Qingxuan let out a breathless laugh and pulled himself up. He cupped He Xuan’s face with both hands and dropped a featherlight kiss on the bridge of his nose. “I’m glad you didn’t use his face,” he murmured, “I’m glad I met you first.”
Little confessions. Little truths he only dared half-whisper under the cover of night. He Xuan pulled him in for a proper kiss.
Later, Shi Qingxuan settled his head into the crook between He Xuan’s neck and shoulder, one hand splayed over the skin above He Xuan’s heart. The black jade bracelet nestled between their skin was warm with his body heat.
“Ah-Xuan,” he yawned, “I’m glad I met you… I’m really happy….”
He Xuan wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer into his embrace. Shi Qingxuan’s inky hair spilled like black rivers across the sheets, his face completely open and relaxed as he dozed. He Xuan was lost in thought as he brushed a few strands of hair out of his sleeping face, fingers lingering over his delicate features. Young lord, Wind Master, beggar — despite having tasted all the bitter flavors of life, Shi Qingxuan could still be so at peace, still so full of youthful passion, still smiling so brightly. Despite everything, he was still as dazzling as the sun scattered on the surface of the ocean.
Thank the Heavens.
How strange fate was, he mused, that hundreds of years of hatred could disappear, and the enemy who stole everything from him would one day become everything to him.
He looked down at the black bracelet resting against Shi Qingxuan’s pale skin and laced their fingers together. They’ve come a long way.
A blood debt repaid in blood.
Two fates finally converging in the end.
Against all odds, they had found the path they were looking for. As He Xuan held a sleeping Shi Qingxuan in his arms he realized that he would live through it all again — through the Reverend of Empty Words, through the Tonglu Mountain, through hundreds of years of deception — just for this outcome.
You have given meaning to my existence.
You are the reason I will go on living.
“Qingxuan, I’m glad I met you, too.”
He planted a kiss on the crown of Shi Qingxuan’s head, a silent vow to keep walking by his side wherever their path may lead. Through all the three realms, through every joy and sorrow of human life, into the horizon of their future.