Work Text:
A storm is brewing.
Good, he thought.
The world should break apart, too.
The world should melt from its core—the world should fall upon itself and he wants to watch it happen.
He knelt by the shore, watching the waves thrash around violently. Silently, he wondered, is the sea really as violent as it is, or is it merely reflecting its Master’s own storm? He scoffed—what storm? Is he even allowed to it? This is what he wanted in the first place. Everything back to its own place, the world has settled.
Except it hasn’t.
The world seemed to have crashed into him and he hates himself for it. There’s no reason to despair, everything is right.
Everything is alright.
—
He stood atop the Black Water Manor, cruel wind billowed against him, threatening to topple him over, he watched and started to wonder what Crimson Rain Sought Flower was doing walking across the shore and approaching.
They had other means to communicate and have never visited each other’s territories personally, and uninvited.
He was unaccompanied and walked while looking down on his feet. He did not want to assume be he seemed unsure, but He Xuan just let him be. He simply decided to come down from where he stood to ask him what he wanted face to face.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” he bit right when Hua Cheng was in front of him.
He shrugged, as if he didn’t just come alone to another Supreme’s territory for absolutely nothing. “I wondered if you were still here.”
He Xuan knotted his brows and watched as Hua Cheng walked around, looking up the trees and patting them gently as if he had good memories with them. He grew even more confused and at the same time, vigilant.
“How do I grow one of those?” He finally turned to ask.
“You can’t.”
“Pity.”
He Xuan stood there for a while just to wait for Hua Cheng to do something. He hasn’t seen him in a while; he hasn’t even talked to him in years. He has been holing himself up and waited for the day he finally fades into nothing. He no longer has an attachment to this world—he’s had his revenge, they day he ceases to be should be near. But it has been over ten years, and he was still here.
The only time he left the Black Water Lair was when he visits the Imperial City, dresses as a beggar and lines up for food.
But he hasn’t done that in months, either.
“Just cut it out,” he finally got enough of his pacing. “What are you doing here?”
Hua Cheng looked at him for a short while then sighed. “Might as well, you might not care anyway.”
“I won’t.”
“Shi Qingxuan died.”
For a while, all he registered was nothing.
Then it all came crashing down. He exhaled shakily and steadied himself despite feeling like he was just gutted.
He looked at Hua Cheng. “It happened a few days ago. He staggered into Puqi Shrine, bloodied and injured, asking for help. He was attacked by some street thugs and had to walk on an empty stomach for days to reach us. By the time he got there he didn’t have long.”
He didn’t know why Hua Cheng had to explain.
He didn’t care.
“I don’t care.”
The Ghost across him made a face, somewhere in between unbelieving and not caring. “Well, that’s it, really. After all, he was mortal. It was only a matter of time.”
It was.
And mortal lives are devastatingly short.
“As I’ve said,” he insisted. “I don’t care.”
Hua Cheng rolled his eyes and turned to leave, but he immediately turned back around. “Right, stupid,” he reached for something inside his sleeve. “While he was dying he found time to write this,” he stretched to give him a piece of paper, weathered and a little bloodied. “Just take it; my husband will kill me if you don’t.”
He stared at the piece of paper, the last piece of Shi Qingxuan in this world. “That’s not my problem.”
Hua Cheng stared at him pointedly and shook the piece of paper. “Take it.” The edge in his tone this time was to indicate that he was running out of patience. And at that very moment, he couldn’t find any strength in him to fight.
Eventually he reached for it and held it in his hand, wondering where it should go later—wondering if the water or flames would do.
It’s all over. The Shi Brothers, with their years of grandeur on the back of someone’s despair, finally both dead: Shi Wudu and his madness, with his bones decorating the bottom of the ocean, and Shi Qingxuan, with his persistent determination and bright smile, decorating the ground six feet under.
Shi Qingxuan. Gone.
It was good that he had stopped posing as a beggar, nothing good was there anyway.
“Gege didn’t know where to lay him to rest so we buried him at a flower patch near the shrine.”
“I don’t care.”
“One day you might.”
“I won’t.”
—
That night, the bloodied piece of paper lay on his bedroom floor, open and screaming in an upbeat voice.
He Xuan,
I will go straight to the point: I am sincerely sorry.
I know I have told you this already but I really am. And I know my apology will not take all your suffering and your family back. Nothing will. But at the same time, nothing I can do ever will, either. So I will say this, I am sorry. I have lived a life of luxury and excess, not knowing that it’s a life that I have stolen.
I am also sorry that it took me so long to call you by your correct name, I have had no time to adjust that last time and if I had the chance to talk to you again, I would have.
You have given me company these past two hundred years and kept my stupid self out of immediate danger. You might have done that for your reasons, but they were very well appreciated.
The best that I can do now is to make sure that you never see me again.
And you won’t, I promise you that.
Lastly, forgive me for saying this but I will miss you. I might not have been your best friend but you were mine.
I’ll make it up to you in my next life.
Qingxuan
—
Everything is alright.
Even as he watches the Black Demon Lair thrash around violently, he thinks, everything is alright.
At least now, he can finally leave.
With the only thing that’s tethering him to the ground is gone, he can finally fade, right?
—
“He said he doesn’t care?” Xie Lian frowned as soon as Hua Cheng arrives back from the East Sea and tells him about their conversation.
“He did.” Hua Cheng looks back at the dark, dark skies of the East Sea, winds crashing and howling, as if it was screaming and wailing when the skies were relatively clear when he went. “But I don’t think he meant it.”