Work Text:
“You’re a dragon too.” Changyuan appraised Shangque, molten eyes piercing through him. Shangque was very suddenly seized with an urge to bolt.
Shangque swallowed. “Er, yes. But I am young, and not a fraction as powerful. I’ve long heard the legends of—of the great dragon Changyuan.”
“Oh?” Changyuan didn’t move, but his presence seemed to fill the room, a great billow of heat and pressure. Shangque could see the dragon in his reptilian eye, a massive thing whose scales rippled in time with the galaxies. His voice, reasonably human and not at all deep, resonated with the vibrations of the stars. “What have you heard?”
Shangque took a breath. This was it. He was standing before the legend himself. He’d rehearsed what he’d say so many times Jieli had kicked him out of her shop. And then he opened his mouth, and all his carefully crafted poetry fled his mind. And when his mind failed him, his mouth took over.
“The great Changyuan is legendary! You fought for ten days and ten nights against the storm, and even stole your own destiny from the destiny tree before being arrested for—” Shangque coughed. “I mean, ahem.”
In the corner of his eye, Shangque saw Xiao Lanhua braiding her orchid cuttings into Jieli’s hair, Siming watching on with contented amusement. The Moon Supreme hadn’t been able to set aside his duties to accompany his wife, so instead he’d sent Shangque to protect her, and Jieli had decided on coming along. Changyuan followed his gaze. His impassive face softened, and a twitch tugged at his mouth.
“I have also heard about you.”
“Me?” Shangque resisted the urge to run and hide behind his wife.
Instead of answering him, Changyuan gestured behind him. Rising from the floor was a jade-carved weiqi board. The stones looked like eyes, and the bowls were blown glass lotus heads, petals so thin they cast pink light across the floor.
They played. Shangque was allowed to play first.
“Loyal Shangque,” said Changyuan, setting down a black stone. “Who slept for 30,000 years rather than cast aside his allegiance.”
Shangque lowered his eyes. “Some people say I abandoned my people,” he said softly. He played defensively, not winning pieces but not losing many either.
“You were a servant, not a king.” Changyuan continued his attack, methodically encroaching upon a corner of the board. “A king has many subjects. A servant has but one master.”
“You used to be feared among all of Cangyan Hai and Shuiyuntian. Now you accept your exile with no complaint. Does the Lord Changyuan serve or rule?” Shangque took a piece—it was an opening Changyuan had left him on purpose.
Changyuan looked again at Siming. “Neither.” He set down another stone, and with sudden clarity Shangque saw that he had been surrounded on all sides, on the brink of defeat without even noticing. “I don’t fight destiny, but neither do I submit to it. In non-action I achieve my contentment.”
Shangque shook his head with a smile. “Clearly I am not so enlightened as the Lord Changyuan.” He set down his last piece even as he already knew the outcome, and clasped his fist in deference. “My Lord, I admit de—”
Changyuan dropped two black stones on the board. Shangque froze mid-sentence. He looked up at Changyuan, incredulous.
“You and I are similar, Shangque,” he said. In the distance, Jieli glanced over at him. “I need not always win, if I can accept the one to whom I lose.”
Shangque gaped, wide-mouthed. After a long moment he recovered himself and bowed his head.
“Come,” said Changyuan. “From this day on, let us be as brothers.”
Shangque left with Xiao Lanhua and Jieli carrying loads of peach-flower cakes and the promise of a rematch.