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When Xie Lian received the invitation, he was somewhat mystified. Feng Xin had courteously requested his presence, at the next convenient interval, at a small, out-of-the-way Temple of Nan Yang.
It did not specify whether Xie Lian could bring a plus-one, but, well…with all of Heaven now in debt to Hua Cheng for his assistance in rebuilding the Heavenly Capital, Feng Xin was surely aware that he could do approximately nothing at all even if Crimson Rain were to stroll into his largest temple, put his feet up on the altar, and start issuing orders for Feng Xin to bring him tea. Thus, Xie Lian chose to not rub any further salt into the wound and set out on his own.
The journey was made short with travel arrays. Soon enough, Xie Lian found himself at the temple’s entryway.
【 Feng Xin? 】 Xie Lian called through the communication array. 【 Are you in? 】
There was a crashing noise, then cursing.
【 Your Highness? 】 Feng Xin said, when he was done telling whatever had fallen over to “suck a fuck.” Whatever that meant. 【 You’re here already? 】
【 Yes, at my convenience, 】 said Xie Lian. 【 I wasn’t sure when I’d next get the chance, so I thought I’d pop over. 】
There was a long pause, and the unmistakable sound of Feng Xin trying to think up a polite way to ask whether Xie Lian came accompanied by a certain special someone.
【 San Lang is overseeing a tournament at the Gambling Hall tonight, 】 Xie Lian said, as if unprompted. 【 The patrons get a bit rowdy when there are prizes on the line. 】
Feng Xin gave an audible sigh of relief. Then there were more crashing noises. And more cursing.
【 I’ll just show myself in, 】 said Xie Lian.
The temple was empty at this hour, and Xie Lian was able to follow the traces of spiritual energy to a secret room behind the stone idol of General Nan Yang. There, Xie Lian found Feng Xin sprawled out with many dazzling treasures surrounding him. The tiny room was packed with all manner of things: swords, heavy wooden chests, baskets filled with random bits of mismatched jewelry; haphazardly stuffed wherever they would fit. It resembled a bandits’ cove, or more accurately, a magpie nest.
Feng Xin groaned and tried unsuccessfully to pull himself to his feet before Xie Lian did it for him. “Your Highness…forgive the mess…it’s not complete, but…here.”
He made a vague gesture, then lowered his head in shame.
Xie Lian blinked. “…Come again?”
Feng Xin again made that vague gesture instead of making words with his mouth to express himself. He really needed to work on that, even after all this time.
Xie Lian looked around, squinting at the items around the room. “Are you…looking to sell off some things? I’m sorry, but San Lang is the one with the money-purse. And I’m sure these swords and jewels and things would be better off going to someone who’d use them…”
“They’re yours!” Feng Xin blurted out. “They’re all yours. From back then. It’s just like Hongjing, I–I couldn’t stand it, those fucking pawn brokers who knew we were desperate and scammed us blind, those looters knocking over your family’s rooms and grabbing whatever they could get their hands on…then selling it all off to some other bastards who just wanted a conversation piece for their sitting-rooms, or some shiny trinket to woo a new mistress with…”
He made that same vague gesture again, slower this time.
“I tracked down what I could over the years. It’s not everything; not nearly everything. I’ll keep looking, but…you can take anything that’s here. It’s yours.”
Xie Lian finally began to recognize some of the things flung about this magpie nest. Tangled amongst an unidentifiable ball of necklaces was the hairpin sent as a gift from a long-deceased aunt for his fourteenth birthday. Leaning against a stack of old books was the sword that he had pointed to the sky during the Shangyuan procession, in whose reflection he had seen a falling child. And there was a heavily-tarnished hand mirror; the very same one he’d had Feng Xin hold in front of him while he squinted into it, tongue poked out of his mouth in concentration, positioning the needle just right so he could pierce his own ears for the upcoming parade… Feng Xin had gone white at the sight of how much blood there was from just one ear, and when Xie Lian had just shrugged and moved to do ear number two, he fainted so soundly that Xie Lian thought his soul had left his mortal body…
Lost in nostalgic vertigo, Xie Lian didn’t hear Feng Xin as he continued to explain himself. That is, until Feng Xin took him by the elbow and led him in front of a certain wooden chest.
“—this one right here,” Feng Xin said.
Xie Lian hadn’t heard a word leading up to that. “…come again…?”
To his credit, Feng Xin seemed to understand and repeated himself without complaint. “I found this chest around a hundred years or two…afterward. The pawn broker claimed it was ‘a rare treasure from the lost Kingdom of Xianle,’ and well, I didn’t recognize it, but the style made it look like something that could’ve been the queen’s. That sleazy broker bastard couldn’t give any proof, said that the legends proclaim that only a scion of the Xianle royal bloodline could open it and behold the treasure within. More the better to keep his filthy hands off of it, but I haven’t been able to get it open to check.”
“So,” Xie Lian said. “It could be a fancy-looking trick box filled with rocks. Or it could have belonged to my mother.”
Feng Xin gave a single nod. It was a chance Xie Lian was willing to take. All the same, he’d never heard of any such enchantments on his own chests and drawers… When he needed to fetch something himself instead of having someone else do it for him, he’d always done it the old-fashioned way: Step 1: Lift the chest’s lid, or slide a drawer out. Step 2: Done.
This method proved to be unsuccessful with this particular chest—although it was clearly hinged and could be peeked inside through the crack between lid and chest proper, it did not budge even after a hearty tug fueled by Xie Lian’s not-inconsiderable arm strength. It was as solid as though it was carved from a single, mighty block of fragrant oak. Of course, there was often a key involved in these sorts of things. Xie Lian inspected the chest carefully but found no keyhole, hidden or otherwise.
“That broker bastard said back then that only someone of the Xianle royal bloodline could open it.” Feng Xin turned the chest to face Xie Lian and gave him an expectant look—as if he was presenting a prospective wife and was waiting for Xie Lian’s opinion. “Maybe order it to open?”
Young madam Chest, a thousand apologies, but I already have a spouse that thoroughly occupies my energy! Xie Lian thought. He coughed lightly, then tried to summon the tone of voice that once came so naturally to him. “In the name of the Xie household, I, the Crown Prince, command you to open!”
(In the far distance, in Ghost City’s wretched hive of gambling and sin, the Ghost King felt a delicious shiver run through his body. He had to quickly snap his knees shut before they spread fully, as if commanded by a mysterious force. Mysterious indeed.)
Such digressions aside, the chest stayed shut in the same way that the Ghost King’s legs did not. Xie Lian tried other methods, such as saying “please,” yelling it directly into the crack underneath the lid, threatening it with a sword, and threatening it with two swords. All was for naught. This devious chest was something beyond what martial gods were equipped to handle.
Xie Lian and Feng Xin thought for another few minutes. Suddenly, each had an epiphany.
“Let’s try three swords,” Feng Xin said.
“Why not call Mu Qing?” Xie Lian asked aloud, at the exact same time.
The choice was obvious for Feng Xin. Xie Lian had to stop him from trying to grab another sword with his teeth while he dual-wielded with his hands.
“Wait, wait,” Xie Lian said. “I know it’s not…ideal…but he had so much experience with getting me ready back in the day; surely he might have some sort of knowledge about how these enchanted chests function?”
Like a stubborn dog with a stick, Feng Xin would not let go of the sword in his mouth. Xie Lian sighed and sent off a message in the communication array.
Much like Xie Lian’s own arrival, Mu Qing arrived surprisingly quickly; unlike Xie Lian’s arrival, he did not care to announce himself before barging in. Thus, he was greeted by the sight of Feng Xin making menacing poses at a wooden chest while wielding as many swords as he could physically carry. Xie Lian played Good Cop while Feng Xin postured, assuring the chest that it would be much easier if it would just open up so they could take a look at what’s inside, please.
“Oh, you’re here!” Xie Lian greeted Mu Qing. “That was fast. Ah, is there something wrong?”
Naked disgust and horror were plain on Mu Qing’s face as he surveyed the state of the treasure room. The precious jewelry left unmatched and in snakelike tangles; tarnished and filthy. The faded silks tossed over the backs of chairs and crumpled on top of cabinets, the delicately-beaded slipper that Feng Xin was using as a paperweight on a desk. Mu Qing took one stumbling step forward, as if possessed, groping out a hand for something to sweep with.
“Wait, wait!” Xie Lian cried out. He seized Mu Qing before he could fully succumb and be lost to them forever, or at least for the next few hours. “We need your help! That chest over there; it’s locked by some strange mechanism, we’ve tried everything and just can’t get it open…”
Xie Lian physically turned Mu Qing’s chin so his hollow-eyed stare was focused in the general direction of the chest. Mu Qing stared for a moment, then seemed to return to himself enough to roll his eyes.
“Seriously?”
Mu Qing asked this burning question to no one in particular as he stepped over the piles of swords and other fallen artifacts strewn across the floor. He knelt in front of the chest, flipped open a previously-unseen compartment under the curved lip of the lid, and fiddled with some devilishly-complicated-looking levers with a few practiced flicks of his hand. There was a pleasant-sounding click, and the chest creaked open.
Xie Lian was elated, and Feng Xin less so. The latter gave an unimpressed grunt.
“Must be because it belonged to the queen,” he stated. “His Highness’ belongings were never so disagreeable.”
“No, they could have locked in the exact same way, if His Highness ever thought to lock them,” Mu Qing shot back. “Which he never did. Ever.”
Xie Lian allowed the two of them to expend some energy arguing with each other as he carefully opened the lid of the chest, holding his breath as he did so. He wasn’t sure what to expect. He wasn’t sure what he could dare to hope for.
Very little could have prepared him for what the chest contained.
Old silk doudous embroidered with flowers, peaches, swans in golden thread. Old toys and pieces of golden foil, stacks of childish drawings, calligraphy studies done with a shaky hand—some were clumsy copies of classic poems, some others were simple statements pulled from the writer’s mind as he learned to express them through his brush.
I like swinging. I like running in the garden. I love mother and father most!
All of it locked away so carefully. This sturdy, steadfast chest had protected the queen’s most precious possessions for such a very long time.
Mu Qing and Feng Xin had quieted down after they saw the chest’s contents.
“It’s…it’s the queen’s things, right?” Feng Xin asked quietly.
Mu Qing gave such an eyeroll, the likes of which had never been seen since the last time he rolled his eyes. Feng Xin cursed loudly as if Mu Qing had physically punched him.
“What?! I was just making sure!”
“It is,” Xie Lian confirmed. “My mother’s things. Thank you so much, Feng Xin. She’ll want to have them back. I’ll carry them to…to Mount Taicang, but I just need a moment or two…”
Underneath a too-thin stack of letters that Xie Lian had sent to her while studying at the Royal Holy Pavilion, Xie Lian found something strange; something that he didn’t immediately recognize, but that itched and prodded at the edge of his conscious. He tugged it out to inspect it in the lamplight.
It was a colorful sash of simple cloth; not hewn from the fine silks that made up the queen’s wardrobe, but a marvel still to behold. Upon the blazing red fabric, the embroidered geometric patterns were dizzying and dazzling; resembling sunlight fracturing through a splendid gemstone, or the complex, palace-spanning magical formation that made up the backbone of the Heavenly Communication Array. The embroidery itself was in such an expert hand that one could hardly distinguish it from the cloth itself.
“That certainly wasn’t made by His Highness,” Feng Xin said, stating the obvious. “And doesn’t look like anything the queen would’ve worn.”
“It’s not in the typical Xianle style,” Xie Lian agreed. “Mu Qing, was this kind of fashion popular outside the palace back then?”
Mu Qing inspected the sash with a critical—one might even say self-conscious—eye, as if he was comparing it to his own sewing skills and finding himself wanting. “You say that as if I had the spare time to just wander around looking at people’s clothing all day. But no, it doesn’t resemble the typical sort of thing court ladies found fashionable. More like the sort of thing you’d see some sketchy street vendor wearing.”
“Some fucking ‘sketchy’; you couldn’t find stitching like that even amongst the artisan gods!” Feng Xin snapped. “And that still doesn’t explain how it found its way to Her Majesty’s store of precious things!”
Xie Lian continued to gaze at the intricate patterns on the fabric as the din of Mu Qing and Feng Xin’s argument became nothing but a buzzing at the back of his mind. That itching at his conscious grew more pronounced, more unbearable, until—
Until a lost memory resurfaced and began to unfold on the fabric before him.
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It was a very exciting day for the little crown prince. Today was the day that he would make a trip up Mount Taicang to the Royal Holy Pavilion, where he would offer up incense to the Martial Emperor alongside Guoshi! And what’s more, he would be making the trip all by himself…or what passed for “by himself” in royal terms: only accompanied by Guoshi himself and twelve armed guards. None of his nursemaids, none of his tutors—who didn’t get along well with Guoshi, besides. It made the little prince feel very grown-up indeed.
Still, even for a grown-up little prince, he had no say in regards to how long his mother wished to cuddle him in the morning before he left. And cuddle him she did—in addition to fixing and re-fixing his hair-bun and ordering that the carriage transporting the prince be checked and properly stocked with treats and books and toys for the long (not very long at all) journey and educating Guoshi at length on the specifics of caring for the crown prince. Xie Lian heard nothing about being allowed to play on the swings at the Royal Holy Pavilion, but also heard nothing about not being allowed, so that matter was settled.
An hour after their scheduled departure time, Guoshi and Xie Lian were finally on their way. Guoshi sank into his seat, sighing deeply.
“It’s a wonder that this carriage can still move at all!” he grumbled. “One more set of golden foils or another change of clothes, and we’d surely have to hitch up another set of horses or three…”
Xie Lian was, of course, too excited to even consider reading or playing. The temple’s swing-sets were but minutes away! All the same, he was also too well-mannered to bounce around the carriage, or to fling himself onto Guoshi’s lap to play with his tasseled earrings that swayed and fluttered with the movement of the horses. What he was not too well-mannered for, was psychological warfare in the name of ensuring he would achieve his goals.
He waited until Guoshi was done grousing and grumbling, and when he next glanced at him, it was time to strike with all of his considerable might. Xie Lian’s doe-like eyes shone with hope, his rosy round cheeks puffed out, he shyly kicked his little feet in his tiny shoes and fiddled his fancy sleeves with his little fingers.
“Will Guoshi push me on the swings when we get to the temple?” Xie Lian asked, politely.
Guoshi paled and recoiled into his seat, trying to avert his eyes from the assault. Alas, once one gazed upon it, it was already over—there was no power in the three realms that could shield one against the inevitable.
“I…you…no, no, your mother will have my head if you dirty your robes…”
Xie Lian reached out both hands and smiled brightly. “Guoshi can catch me when I jump!”
There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Guoshi sank down, defeated, and despaired as he tried to think of how he could catch the little crown prince without breaking both his arms.
When in a sensitive and vulnerable state such as this, Guoshi was prone to unwise decisions. Above the clacking of the horses’ hooves, the rattling of the carriage wheels, and the barking of the guards commanding the crowds outside to make way, Guoshi’s highly-attuned senses heard the irresistible fluttering of cards being shuffled.
“Halt the carriage!” bellowed Guoshi.
Before the shocked guards could even fully process and put the command into practice, Guoshi had leapt out of the carriage with a grace and confidence that was wholly at odds with his normal standards of physical activity. On the landing, he stumbled, swayed, and crashed hard to the ground. This was more what was expected, but hardly stopped Guoshi in his quest. Spitting out blood, he scanned around wildly, and finally pinpointed his target: a gambling stall on the side of the road, where one could take up a challenge of cards in exchange for fabulous prizes. As the dignified Guoshi of Xianle and an immortal besides, he was above the want for fabulous things, and for prizes, but it was the allure—the thrill of the hunt—
“My lord! Lord Guoshi!” called one of the guards. “Where are you going?!”
Two of the guards disengaged from position long enough to try and herd Guoshi back into the carriage like a pair of farmhands pursuing a wandering sheep. They did not dare place hands on him, but their constant circling and complaining was wearing on Guoshi’s very last nerve. Such a scene they were causing, overreacting like this! People were staring!
“None of your concern! None! This teacher can find his way home on his own; he doesn’t need to be escorted like a maiden on her first day outside!”
If one didn’t know better, one would almost believe that Guoshi had instantly forgotten why he was even in the carriage the moment he heard the seductive shuffle of cards. The guards were forced to choose between disobeying a direct command from the Guoshi of Xianle, and allowing said Guoshi to gamble at a street vendor’s stall while the crown prince sat waiting in a carriage stuffed to the brim with imperial treasures.
Speaking of which, unbeknownst to the distracted guards, said carriage was minus another passenger. Xie Lian, too, agreed with Guoshi’s statement. He was quite grown-up, and didn’t need to be escorted. While Guoshi played with cards—which Xie Lian knew he would be quite awhile doing—he could take the opportunity to explore the capital on his own!
With the nimbleness of one who was destined to be a martial god, Xie Lian slipped from the carriage and into the gathered crowds.
It was already quite overwhelming for the little crown prince. The streets were packed with people who jostled him back and forth as he darted down a path that even he wasn’t sure of. It was loud and full of very unfamiliar sights and smells. It wasn’t at all like the palace. He knew how to find his way anywhere in the palace, and knew exactly where to find his mother, his nursemaids. Here, there was no one around at all that he knew, or that knew him. His foot landed in a muddy puddle, and his heart raced in panic and his eyes filled with tears. His mother would be so cross with him for getting his robes dirty. He wouldn’t ever get to swing at Mount Taicang again.
For that matter, would he ever see his mother again? It seemed so long since he’d bolted from the carriage; his feet had already carried him so far away. He had no idea where he was. He had no idea how to get home. Tears began to roll down his cheeks in earnest.
A heavy, dirty hand seized Xie Lian’s upper arm and yanked him back.
“Where ya headed, little young master? Heh.”
Two strange bulky men grinned down at him, and Xie Lian knew from the sight of them that they meant him harm. He tried yanking his arm back, but was unsuccessful.
“I’m going to Mount Taicang!” he said firmly. “Let me go!”
“Ohh? Whatcha goin’ there for, gonna be a cultivator? Looks like yer family can afford it, from those fancy clothes you’ve got on…”
“Bet they’re missing you,” the other man said, dripping with false sympathy. “C’mere, we’ll get you to Mount Taicang real quick…”
Xie Lian did not believe for a moment that these two men would escort him where he meant to go. In one swift, desperate move, he yanked his arm away and took off running.
If he could just run far enough—surely, surely he’d find the way—
His flight was stopped by the sudden swift appearance of a woman in colorful robes; her necklace and bracelets jingling as she moved. She caught him by the arm, her grip firm, but so much gentler than that horrible man’s. If not for the roughness of her calloused fingers, Xie Lian could have almost mistaken the touch for his mother’s. Slowly, Xie Lian looked up at the one holding him tight. He could only see her in profile from below. She was staring, unblinking, at the men who had been chasing Xie Lian. He could no longer hear their heavy thudding footsteps, nor their braying shouts. In fact, they were now making no noise at all.
Xie Lian looked back and saw the terror and hatred plain on the men’s faces. They no longer seemed interested in taking him away now that this woman was here by his side.
One of the men spat on the ground and cursed loudly at the woman. “Guess you’ll never be getting to Mount Taicang, brat! That fucking witch is sure to cut you into chunks; poison the water with whatever she’ll cook with you. Should’ve come with us!”
“No I shouldn’t have!” Xie Lian angrily retorted. “You were going to kidnap me!”
Indeed, the men’s ruse had been seen through. They cursed again and beat a hasty retreat into the capital’s crowds.
The woman sighed in disgust. “Can’t even take backtalk from kids,” she drawled.
Her voice was low and pleasant; much different than the bird-like tittering of the court ladies that fluttered about his mother’s quarters. She kneeled to get at eye level with Xie Lian. Though Xie Lian’s heart was still racing, he was awash with relief at the sight of the woman’s face. She was so pretty, and anyone that pretty surely couldn’t mean him any harm.
“Where did you come from?” she asked, then shook her head. “Never mind; I can guess from the looks of you. Gods only know how you managed to slip out. Did you leap over the walls from your garden swing?”
The very idea enchanted Xie Lian, but he couldn’t lie—she seemed so kind, and he couldn’t lie to someone kind.
“No,” Xie Lian said. “I was going to Mount Taicang with Guoshi and I ran from the carriage to explore. But I’ve never been here before, and I got lost… And then those awful men started chasing me, and my robes are dirty, and…”
Even talking about the events that landed him here was too overwhelming, and Xie Lian sniffled and let out a sob. At the sound of it, the bundle strapped to the woman’s front began to squirm. The woman briefly diverted her attention to whisper words of comfort. Xie Lian’s eyes went huge, and once again he was distracted from his distress by this wondrous and mysterious woman.
“You have a baby with you!” Xie Lian exclaimed in awe.
The mysterious woman raised her eyebrows and gave Xie Lian an incredulous look. “…Yes.”
“Can I see?” Xie Lian asked, trying to crane his neck to see inside the tightly-wrapped bundle.
The woman jerked away and clutched the bundle closer to her chest, as if she expected something bad would happen if Xie Lian looked. It was just that Xie Lian had never seen a baby, not in person. He had no siblings, and it wasn’t proper for any of the noble ladies to bring babies to mingle at the palace. He couldn’t help but be curious. Perhaps the woman would let him pet the baby, like his mother’s handmaidens would let him pet their tiny dogs.
“…you said you were expected at Mount Taicang,” the woman said, taking Xie Lian by the hand. “I’ll consider introducing the two of you after I learn some more about you on the way.”
Xie Lian’s brow furrowed in confusion, but only because the woman was continuing to keep her baby to herself. He had no doubt in his mind that she would lead him safely to Mount Taicang.
Her grip was firm and her pace swift but measured, ensuring that Xie Lian could keep up. She expertly guided him away from any puddles that could further dirty his robes, sidestepping them herself with a flutter of her colorful skirts and chiming silver jewelry. The intricately-embroidered patterns on her clothes entranced Xie Lian; truly, they were unlike anything he had ever seen. The stately painted cranes and plum blossoms on his own robes seemed dull and lifeless in comparison. His fingers itched to examine them further, but of course, he was too old now to be yanking on ladies’ skirts for attention.
“How are your skirts…like that?” he asked, unable to find the proper words. “It’s like…”
The woman waited for him to finish, an amused look on her face. Xie Lian thought it over for a minute or two, then decided.
“It’s like when the sun shines through my mother’s rings while she’s playing music on her zheng; like so many different colors and music notes sank into your clothes.”
The woman was briefly shocked, then laughed aloud. “Gods above, what do they teach you in that palace? Such pretension from someone who’s barely out of his baby wraps.”
“But I like it!” Xie Lian protested earnestly. “I’d dress like that every day if it came in white! I like wearing white, even if I get dirty easily.”
The woman nodded in mock-seriousness at Xie Lian’s explanation. “Well, next time I’m sewing into the wee hours of the night, I’ll think of the little young master who was inspired to poetry by my handiwork and feel revitalized.”
Xie Lian was awed. “You made it yourself?!”
He was aware that there were people who made all his fine clothes for him; after all, he often had to stand still for far too long as they measured him over and over and tutted at him for growing too quickly. But to have been saved by such a pretty lady who made such beautiful things, who guided him so expertly down these busy streets, who had a baby—Xie Lian wasn’t sure if he’d ever met someone so fascinating in his life. Running from the carriage almost seemed worth it.
As they walked towards Mount Taicang, not too far away, Guoshi was being poked repeatedly in his private communication channel by his deputies.
【 Have you arrived? 】
【 When will you arrive? 】
【 Will you be arriving soon? 】
Guoshi waved them off, looking even more like a madman than he already did. He stared at his cards raptly. Yes, this round, this round he would surely win—
【 Did the Little Highness need to take a break? 】
【 Is the Little Highness with you? 】
【 Is the Little Highness safe? 】
Guoshi blinked. Little Highness? …Oh, that’s right, he was supposed to be escorting the Little Highness to make offerings to His Highness at the mountain. And—and then he was supposed to push him on the swing…
Guoshi slowly turned and took in the scene before him. In his determination to play cards, he had evidently used his magical talents to freeze the members of the royal guard into blocks of ice. The evidence supporting that hypothesis was the fact that all twelve members of their guard entourage were currently frozen into blocks of ice. Guoshi leapt to his feet and raced to the carriage, and his own heart froze at the absence of the little prince he had promised to protect.
Frantic, Guoshi yanked out one of the pins holding up his headdress and scratched a search array into the dirt beneath him…
Unbeknownst to Guoshi (at least for the next few minutes, until the array could pinpoint him), Xie Lian was already in sight of the gates to Mount Taicang. Delighted, Xie Lian was the one to lead the woman by the hand up to their destination.
“We’re almost there! We can wait here for someone to let us in; then I can show you the swings, and the fruit orchard, and the temple with all the lanterns…”
The woman chuckled. “I don’t think I’ll be welcome. But I’ll wait here until you’re collected, don’t worry.”
Xie Lian was, again, confused by the woman’s words. She would be welcome on the mountain, because he was the crown prince and he had invited her. The woman sighed and sat at the side of the path to rest on a stone, and shifted the bag of fabrics off her back as she did so. The squirming bundle at her front stayed secured. Xie Lian remembered her earlier statement and eagerly sat beside her.
“Can I see your baby now?”
The woman’s hands instinctively went to press the bundle tighter to her chest. Her expression was unreadable. After a long moment, she asked, “Will you be kind to him?”
Confused, so confused. Xie Lian couldn’t imagine being anything but. He nodded. The woman rocked the bundle back and forth slowly, as if she was trying to build up courage—or faith in Xie Lian’s statement. The bundle continued to squirm like a little caterpillar climbing on a flower stem.
“He just won’t settle down.” The woman sighed in frustration. “Not since he heard you bawling your eyes out back there. It’s not like him; he’s usually too lazy to even wake up when I take him out. He doesn’t like people, generally.”
Xie Lian began to put the pieces together. “…Is it because people are mean to him?”
Righteous fury boiled his blood. How could anyone be mean to a baby!? As crown prince, he wouldn’t stand for it. He’d tell his parents straightaway when he got home, and have his father make a decree that no one could be mean to this baby anymore.
The woman laughed and poked Xie Lian’s forehead where his brow furrowed. “I can tell what the little young master is thinking; that he’ll defend my little one’s honor. We’ll manage on our own, I promise. But in the meantime, just so he’ll finally calm down and go back to sleep, I’ll let the two of you meet.”
She unwrapped the bundle carefully and allowed Xie Lian to peep inside.
“Little young master, this is my Honghong-er,” she said.
Xie Lian marveled. The baby had a head of shiny, raven-black hair that would be the envy of any court lady. His cheeks were even rounder and rosier than Xie Lian’s when he turned on his charms, and his bright and curious and marvelous eyes were framed by thick, dark lashes. One eye was as dark as night, and the other red as a ruby and endlessly segmented like that very jewel itself, or like a magnificent insect’s. Both eyes were raptly focused on Xie Lian. A tiny hand came out of the bundle and reached for Xie Lian’s face, landing on his nose. Xie Lian giggled in delight and reached out a finger to poke his nose right back.
“Hello there!” Xie Lian said. “I’m pleased to finally meet you.”
After that, it wasn’t long before Xie Lian was indeed collected—by Guoshi himself, no less. Guoshi came rushing up the path, wheezing from his mad dash through the city streets, looking very much like he was about to drop dead from exertion. The woman rose her eyebrows at him, unamused at the ruckus when she’d finally managed to get Honghong-er back to sleep.
“Guoshi!” Xie Lian scolded him. “Quiet, or you’ll wake the baby!”
Guoshi stared at him, wild-eyed and wilder-haired, and promptly blacked out for several minutes. When he came to, Xie Lian was staring down at him expectantly. The woman had not moved from her seat on the rock.
“Good, you’re awake,” she drawled. “I trust that this experience has taught you a lesson in child-rearing, oh venerable one.”
“You…” Guoshi’s head swam. He couldn’t finish that thought. He weakly patted himself down and found the lone money-purse he hadn’t managed to lose at the card table. “Please…take this as thanks…and don’t spread word of this around…”
Without comment, the woman plucked the purse from Guoshi’s limp hand and tucked it into her sleeves. After doing so, she knelt and took Xie Lian’s hands.
“Little young master, it was a special thing for my Honghong-er to have met you,” she said gently. “I can only hope that he finds someone like you one day. A silly little young master who will be kind to him and write poetry for him. It’s all a mother can ask for.”
“When he gets older, have him come here and train at Mount Taicang!” Xie Lian said eagerly. “I’m going to train here when I’m old enough, too. We’ll train together and I’ll be the best shixiong to him.”
The woman gave a rueful chuckle. “Yes, well, we’ll have to see. That’d be nice, wouldn’t it.”
She gazed off into the trees, and after a few moments, she dug around in her bag to produce a bright red sash that was embroidered in those dazzling patterns that Xie Lian so admired.
“Here,” she said. “Something to remember us by.”
Xie Lian took it, awed by the gift. “For me? Once I see him again, I’ll show him this and he’ll remember me for sure…”
The woman chuckled again and patted Xie Lian’s head. “I’m sure he will.”
--
Of course, of course. Even before the parade—the red string had been tied so much earlier. Xie Lian couldn’t possibly have expected otherwise. He could laugh until he cried; tears of joy, for once.
“Guoshi bought me a sword taller than I was to make sure I didn’t tell my mother what happened,” Xie Lian recalled wistfully. “I still told her about meeting…about meeting his mother, and showed her the sash. I don’t think she understood why I was so enchanted by it. She promised to keep it safe until I was old enough to leave for Mount Taicang, but…gods, I was so flighty back then. I didn’t remember it at all when the time came. So all these years, it just sat among her things.”
Feng Xin and Mu Qing had listened to the story in its entirety; Feng Xin sitting cross-legged, head in his hands in puzzlement, and Mu Qing fiddling with the tangled ball of necklaces while Xie Lian spoke. He'd actually managed to free a few pieces in the process.
“That has to be the real, actual first-time meeting?” Feng Xin said, racking his brain for other possibilities. “There can’t be any other surprises before that.”
“I fully expect there’s some way he managed to be there for His Highness’ birth,” Mu Qing replied flatly.
Xie Lian wasn’t even pretending to listen. He abruptly rose to his feet. He bowed once towards the two of them.
“Thank you for finding this, for keeping it safe,” Xie Lian said. “I’ll come back for my mother’s things to bring them to her gravesite, but if you can just keep them for a while longer while I bring this to San Lang…”
Feng Xin nodded. “Of course, of course…” He trailed off when it became clear that Mu Qing was not preparing to leave as Xie Lian was. “Are you just going to keep sitting there fiddling with that thing?!”
This question prompted Mu Qing to leap at Feng Xin and attempt to strangle him with a freed necklace. Xie Lian excused himself and left them to it.
It was only a short few jumps back to Paradise Manor. The sun was rising, and Hua Cheng was home from the gambling tournament. His clothes were remarkably unstained—it seemed no one had lost limbs tonight; a rare occasion. He was fresh from the baths, wrapped in his fine sleeping robes and stretched out like a great prowling cat on a divan. He was not asleep; he never slept unless Xie Lian was beside him. He smiled as Xie Lian entered and yawned performatively.
“I stayed up all night waiting for gege to come home,” he purred. “I missed you so terribly, having to spend my whole evening watching fools bet their lives away. Will you make it up to me by allowing me to brush out your hair for bed?”
“San Lang, I…” Xie Lian bit his lip, trying to decide how to broach the topic in a way that was at all graceful. “I…I have something to show you.”
Seeing that Xie Lian was quite serious, Hua Cheng likewise ceased his teasing. He sat up on the divan, making room for Xie Lian to sit beside him; an offer he was, as always, happy to take. Taking a page from his younger self’s confidence in the matter, Xie Lian slid the embroidered sash out of his sleeve and presented it to Hua Cheng with both hands.
As the silence stretched on, Xie Lian began to fret. Was I too presumptuous? Perhaps he doesn’t want to see it; perhaps it just brings him pain. Perhaps it’s been too long and he doesn’t recognize it at all—
“Gege.” Hua Cheng’s voice sounded so fragile that Xie Lian’s heart ached in kind. His fine pale fingers, trembling as they went, traced the embroidery on the sash with a familiarity that was untouched by time. “Where did you find this?”
--
Dawn was breaking, and the Scrap Immortal and Ghost King were fast asleep in their bed. There came a knocking from the locked wooden box on the nearby mantle.
Slowly, silently, as to not wake its master, Ruoye uncurled itself from Xie Lian’s arm and quietly swam through the air like a ghostly flying eel. It prodded and tapped the wooden box for a moment or two before finding the latch that held the thing shut and releasing it.
That embroidered sash already had quite enough of being locked up for so many years, and would not stand for further seclusion. It poked one end up and out of the wooden box to survey the room, and finally, its attention fell on the bed where two sleeping figures lay.
Xie Lian’s mother and father were long gone, passed from this world amidst sorrow and despair. It was as such for Hua Cheng’s own mother, as well. But love leaves an indelible lingering sentiment on all that it touches, and it is this sentiment that can live on in the things left behind.
The embroidered sash approached the bed and curled in on itself, looking like a colorful roiling dragon surveying its lands. What a pair the two made. How happy they seemed. How peaceful the Ghost King looked in his sleep!
Hua Cheng’s mother was long dead. Her spirit had departed this world. However, her love was woven into the embroidered sash, and the embroidered sash had just spent eight hundred years—give or take—cultivating a consciousness surrounded by artifacts of motherly devotion. Thus, it had a certain understanding: though it was the first time it had ever encountered this Ghost King, it was good and right to be overcome with happiness at the sight of him.
Satisfied that this new creature had reached the appropriate conclusions, Ruoye swam back to Xie Lian, curling back around his arm almost demonstratively; as if to provide a suggestion on where the embroidered sash could spend the night (or rather, day) instead of that cramped box. The embroidered sash seemed to think the suggestion over.
The Scrap Immortal and Ghost King continued to sleep, their fated red string connecting them, and each holding an end of that red sash in the curl of their sleeping fists.
--