Archive of Our Own

Song Lan is a hundred zhang away from the main gate of Yicheng when he steps on it.

He doesn't know what it is, only that it's jabbing into the ball of his foot with surprising force. Frowning, he takes a step back, removing his foot from the offending object.

It's a piece of obsidian, irregularly shaped and about the size of a lychee. Tiny white specks of mineral are embedded inside the sharp glass, shimmering and sparkling in the sunlit dawn like stars against a black sky. It's as if a piece of the night had crystallized and fallen down to earth.

Song Lan bends down and picks up the shard, gently holding it in the hollow of his palm. It's surprisingly light for a rock, weighing about as much as a small block of wood of the same size. He finds it strange that such a thing would in the middle of a place like Shudong, but he's not too worried about it. It's just a rock, after all. Besides, he has much more important things on his mind right now.

It's been years since he'd last seen Xiao XingChen, years since his best friend had given up his sight so that Song Lan could once again gaze upon this terrible but oh-so-beautiful world. And yet, Xiao XingChen had been cruel enough to disappear without a word, leaving behind no notes or letters mentioning his intentions or destination. It was the first heartless thing that Xiao XingChen had ever done – and perhaps ever will do – in his life. Song Lan's heart and mind aches every time he looks at his own reflection, every time he stares into those beautiful brown orbs that should not have been his.

He doesn't remember much of what happened on the mountain. Most of it had been a blur, a mix of aberrant fever dreams interspersed with short moments of painful consciousness. It had taken almost a year for his body to heal itself to the point where he could sit up straight without pain, and he had descended down the mountain the moment he could walk by himself. He’s been endlessly searching for Xiao XingChen ever since then.

He doesn't remember how many years it's been. It hurts too much to keep track. All he knows is that it's been far too long.

He's followed Xiao XingChen's trail to this isolated little town hidden away by imposing mountains had perpetual fog. Earlier, as he had passed through the small, well-worn path deeper into the wilderness, he had allowed himself to be filled with hope once again. But that hope had wavered as the gates of Yicheng entered his line of sight. For a moment, he had been terrified. Terrified that this place would be yet another dead end. Terrified that it would be another year wasted without Xiao XingChen at his side. It had almost been enough to make him around.

However, the doubt had vanished as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by raw determination. Even if he doesn't find Xiao XingChen here, he won't give up. He'll find another trail, another set of clues. He'll go to the ends of the earth to see his friend again, no matter how many lifetimes it takes.

He's got a good feeling about this place though. Yes, the feng shui here is absolutely appalling, but that's just the type of place that Xiao XingChen gravitates towards. No doubt he had his hands full with night hunts here, if he had passed through this place at all.

Song Lan glances down at the night-sky obsidian in his hand again. Perhaps this is a sign that this is the right place, a sign that he will finally find Xiao XingChen. He stuffs the shard into a pocket inside his sleeve and stands back up. Yes, he's definitely got a good feeling about this place. A faint smile crosses his face as he confidently strides forward into the lion's den.

 Everything had gone horribly wrong.

Seeing Xiao XingChen again should have been Song Lan's most wonderful dream, but it had turned out to be his worst nightmare.

Not only had Xiao XingChen been fraternizing with Xue Yang of all people, he had saved the bastard from certain death. And Xue Yang, being the street trash that he is, repaid Xiao XingChen's kindness by deceiving him into murdering innocents in cold blood. By deceiving him into murdering Song Lan.

As Song Lan stares up at the beautiful, tranquil face of Xiao XingChen, Shuanghua embedded deep into his flesh, he wonders what they had done to deserve this.

Are they not good people?

Have they not devoted their lives towards helping others?

It's a stark reminder that the universe is not, and never has been, fair. Sometimes the most heinous monsters receive the best fortunes, while the purest souls suffer the most gruesome fates. In that moment, he understands why Baoshansan hides herself and her disciples up on that mountain. He almost wishes that Xiao XingChen had stayed with them.

"Are you there?"

Xiao XingChen's voice is warm and melodious and everything that Song Lan had ever wanted.

(XingChen.)

He tries, he tries so damn hard to call out his friend's name. All that comes out of his throat is a pained gurgle, followed by another crimson waterfall.

But it's clear that the question had never been meant for him in the first place.

"I'm here. Why did you come?"

He doesn't need to see Xue Yang to know that he's smiling. He must be so proud of himself right now, having just tricked wonderful, kindhearted Xiao XingChen into slaughtering his only friend.

...No, that isn't true. Song Lan is not his only friend now.

Song Lan thinks back to that little blind girl who had been intuitive enough to see past Xue Yang's charms. He's glad that she doesn't have to see any of this.

Shuanghua slides out of Song Lan's chest with a wet squelch, the blood from his newest wound drenching his robes. It's nearly impossible to see the bright red liquid against the jet black fabric, but he feels it sticking to his skin. Tears prickle at the corners of his eyes, but they do not fall.

"Shuanghua was acting strange, so I followed its guidance here to have a look for myself. There haven't been any walking corpses around here in a while, and this one was on its own. Did it come from some faraway place?"

(Yes, XingChen. I've traveled long and far to find you again.)

Without the support of Shuanghua, Song Lan falls down to a kneel in front of Xiao XingChen. He knows that it's over for him – he can feel the life leaving his limbs with each passing second. Still, he cannot tear his eyes off Xiao XingChen. He has waited too long to see his face again, and not even these circumstances can change that.

"Probably. It was so fierce."

Song Lan feels Xue Yang's arrogant, haughty gaze on him, but he refuses to dignify the little fucker with a response. He is aware of the sword in his hand, the proof of his identity. He still has some vestige of strength left in his battered, broken body, and he considers passing it to Xiao XingChen, if only to keep it safe.

...No, that would be impossible. He cannot, will not let Xiao XingChen anywhere near Fuxue. His friend has suffered enough for his sake. From what he's heard from the blind girl – A-Qing – Xiao XingChen has been quite sad and lonely, even before he had met her. Perhaps he still feels guilty for what happened all those years ago. The last thing Song Lan wants to do is pile more guilt on him, to let him know the true extent of his crimes. It hurts, but Song Lan is resolute in his decision. He prays that Xue Yang won't reveal the truth in a petty attempt to destroy Xiao XingChen in the future.

"Let's go back and cook. I'm starving."

"Did you buy everything?"

His hearing is starting to fade, but he catches the words, clear as day. It's so utterly, painfully domestic, and his feeble heart jumps in jealously. Xiao XingChen sounds so normal, like he's finally made peace with the world. How long has Song Lan wanted to hear such words from his other half?

His physical wounds burn and throb, but the sting of betrayal in his heart overpowers them all.

"I got them all. I just happened to meet this plaything on the way back. How unfortunate."

Song Lang can only watch as Xiao XingChen's figure retreats from the road, away from himself. Suddenly, he feels as though he deserved this fate. Xiao XingChen had been nothing but caring and accommodating after the calamity at Baixue Temple, and yet he had done nothing but blame his dearest friend over what had been Xue Yang's fault alone. His own bitter, angry words replay over and over again in his head:

"There's no need for us to see each other again."

The fact that those words had come from his own mouth makes him sick to his stomach. Had he even given them an ounce of thought before he blurted them out in his rage? He had aimed straight for Xiao XingChen's heart and struck true. After all, was that not the reason that Xiao XingChen had disappeared after leaving him with Baoshansan?

"There's no portion for you."

Song Lan barely catches Xue Yang's snide remark. His hearing is practically gone now, and his vision isn't far behind. The darkness at the edges of his sight creeps closer and closer, and everything starts to blur out of focus. In spite of it all, he can still make out Xiao XingChen's pure, radiant form. It's only a small silhouette in the distance now, getting tinier and tinier as the seconds pass.

He clings to the sight, even though he knows he will have no use for it in death.

(I love you, XingChen.)

 Death is not what Song Lan had imagined it to be.

Actually, he would be hard pressed to call this 'death.'

He doesn't know what Xue Yang has done to him, but this is... sacrilegious. Song Lan is a prisoner inside his own body, his soul trapped and bound to his mortal shell despite his death. His thoughts are still his own, but his body belongs to Xue Yang now. Ironic, that he would be at the beck and call of his worst enemy.

Song Lan has little time to contemplate his newfound 'existence' – Xue Yang is already summoning him.

In an instant, he appears inside what looks to be a mausoleum. His heart sinks as he recognizes it to be Xiao XingChen's residence. His heart sinks further as his eyes hone in on a figure that shines like the morning frost.

"Fine! I'll shut up! Since you don't believe me, just turn around! Ask the person behind you and let him tell you that I'm not lying!"

Song Lan barely has time to process Xue Yang's intentions before he hears his first order. The command is simple: attack, but do not kill. It's not a command as much as a compulsion that he cannot resist. It's so unbearably strong that, for a split second, he finds his mind subconsciously agreeing with the order.

His limbs move on their own, despite his protests. He swings Fuxue at Xiao XingChen's unguarded back, praying that the other priest can block the attack before it connects.

He does.

Song Lan suddenly feels rather stupid for underestimating his friend like that, but the feeling only lasts for a brief moment before it's replaced by unadulterated fear.

He knew it had been too much to hope that Xue Yang wouldn't use him as ammunition against Xiao XingChen.

Xiao XingChen's angry-but-still-beautiful expression melts the moment their swords meet, his surprise and confusion evident in the way his brows rise and the way his lips part ever so slightly. Song Lan wishes he could have seen that expression under better circumstances, wishes that he could close the small-but-infinite distance between them.

"...Is that you, ZiChen?"

Song Lan's heart breaks for the second time in less than twenty-four hours.

Xiao XingChen's voice is full of hope, hurt, hesitation. Song Lan had never thought that he could have hated the sound of his own name coming from Xiao XingChen's lips, but the universe seems dead set on disproving all of his preconceptions today. He stares at Xiao XingChen, because it's the only thing he can do. He tries to ignore the way Xiao XingChen shakes ever-so-slightly, tries to ignore the crimson bandages and the streaks of dried blood on Xiao XingChen face.

A pale hand makes its way towards Fuxue's blade. It slowly slides up from the tip to where the blade meets the hilt, where its name is engraved. Song Lan wants to pull the sword away before Xiao XingChen's fingers reach those cursed words, but he's powerless under Xue Yang's spell.

Too distracted by his own scrambled thoughts, Xiao XingChen slices his palm on Fuxue.

The cut isn't deep, but it bleeds profusely. The red liquid slides down the edge of his sword and collects at the tip. The sight of it makes Song Lan dizzy. Even when they had sparred with each other in the past, Song Lan had been careful to avoid even scraping Xiao XingChen's delicate skin.

The pads of Xiao XingChen's fingers finally arrive at the engraving. Two simple words with enough power to bring everything crashing down. His fingers run over that patch of metal again and again, as if he can't fully comprehend – or perhaps doesn't want to comprehend – the words carved into the silver blade.

"ZiChen... Respected Priest Song... Respected Priest Song... Is that you...?"

Song Lan's heart screams yes, but his mind screams no.

That pale, bleeding hand reaches toward him, only to dart back moments later. The cycle repeats over and over, and if not for the ever-widening patches of red on Xiao XingChen's bandages, Song Lan would have believed that he was stuck in an unending time loop.

"...What's wrong... Say something..."

Song Lan wishes he could.

He would apologize for his every wrongdoing, for his every unfair misgiving, because he had been too caught up in his own selfish rage. He would beg for Xiao XingChen's forgiveness, because heaven knows he doesn't deserve it. He would tell Xiao XingChen that he loves him, because he was too cowardly to say it before.

But he can't.

He lost that opportunity a long time ago.

"Will someone say something?!"

Xiao XingChen's voice cracks on the last syllable. Song Lan has never heard him sound so unraveled in his life. There's no semblance of his characteristic calmness anywhere on his pallid face, not like yesterday.

"Do you need me to inform you of the identity of the walking corpse that you killed yesterday?"

Shaunghua's blade makes a clattering sound as it hits the ground, a physical representation of the way Xiao XingChen’s mind shatters upon processing those words. The once-illustrious priest sinks to his knees in front of Song Lan, his piercing wails resonating through the small mausoleum.

Song Lan vaguely registers Xue Yang's maniacal laughter in the background, but it's drowned out by Xiao XingChen's grief-stricken cries. Never before in his life has he heard such an awful sound.

Xiao XingChen's fingernails dig into his scalp, leaving deep crescent-shaped depressions. The bandages are no longer enough to hold back the endless streams of bloodied tears that leak from his empty sockets, and rivers of scarlet flow down his cheekbones. The liquid drips, no, rains onto his once cloud-white robes, now sullied by dust and blood.

Song Lan wishes that Xue Yang had made him blind and deaf too, so he wouldn't have to see or hear Xiao XingChen's anguish.

Xue Yang continues to mock Xiao XingChen.

"So it's like that! Two great friends finally meet face to face after so long, and one is moved to tears! Do you two want to hug?"

Song Lan knows that Xue Yang is being facetious, but some part of him hopes that the deranged little slimeball would actually command him to hold the sobbing Xiao XingChen.

"Salvation?! That's hilarious. You two couldn't even save yourselves!"

(No, he's wrong. You've saved me so many times, XingChen. More times than I can count. I would have been nothing without you.)

Xiao XingChen is oblivious to his thoughts and continues to gasp and whimper beside his feet.

"You have nothing! You're a fucking failure! You brought this down on yourself – you have no one else to blame for this!"

Song Lan sees red. Indignation, hatred, and despair mixing together to form a volatile concoction inside his mind that builds up and up and up but has nowhere to go. The pressure is so immense he can practically feel his soul fraying at the edges. He should have beheaded Xue Yang the first chance he got.

Xiao XingChen is huddled into a tiny ball on the floor. He looks so infinitesimally small, like he could vanish at any moment. Song Lan wants nothing but to hold Xiao XingChen in arms, to absolve him of the guilt that's eating him alive, because Xiao XingChen is truly the only innocent one here.

Two barely audible words escape from Xiao XingChen's lips:

"Forgive me."

(I never blamed you in the first place.)

The world turns to slow motion as Xiao XingChen grabs Shuanghua off the ground. For a moment, Song Lan thinks the blade is intended for him. An odd sense of euphoria passes over him at the thought of being freed from this hell. But as the second pass, it becomes increasingly obvious that Shuanghua is not flying towards his neck, but Xiao XingChen's own.

(XingChen, no, please, no –)

Light flashes off Shuanghua's brilliant silver blade as Xiao XingChen's arm makes a horizontal motion. His flesh gives easily under the sword's sharp edge, as if he's a pig in the midst of being slaughtered. Blood sprays into the air, splattering all over Song Lan's robes and the stone floor.  

Time freezes.

A memory flashes before Song Lan's eyes.

(It's night. He and Xiao XingChen are sitting on a rocky outcropping overlooking Baixue Temple. They're surrounded by piles of winter snow, which still have not yet melted even though it's well into spring. The mountain air is cool, crisp, and quiet. The cloudless sky above twinkles with countless stars, each shimmering like tiny, sparkling gems.

Xiao XingChen's face is serene as he takes in the vast expanse of the cosmos, his eyes reflecting the light from the stars. His cheeks and the tip of his nose are dusted with lightest hints of red from the cold breeze. A pleased smile rests on his lips, the corners of his mouth curved up ever so slightly. His lips look awfully soft, and Song Lan wonders what it would be like to kiss them.

A blush crosses Song Lan's face the moment the thought crosses his mind. He looks down, hoping that Xiao XingChen hasn't noticed his sudden flush. A quick glance upward tells him that Xiao XingChen is still staring up at the sky, oblivious to his racing heart. Slowly, Song Lan allows his eyes to wander again.

In his white robes, Xiao XingChen almost blends into the snow around them. If not for the dark hair flowing down from his scalp, Song Lan would have been hard-pressed to find him in the snow-capped mountains. Strands of Xiao XingChen's hair flutter in front of his face, dislodged from their original positions beside his face. Before Song Lan can even realize what he's doing, he reaches out and tucks the strands behind Xiao XingChen's ear.

Xiao XingChen definitely notices that.

He turns to face Song Lan with one eyebrow raised. He's not angry or weirded-out, but amused. His smile widens before he raises a sleeve to half hide it. "ZiChen," he says, his voice warm and affectionate. "I thought we agreed to see the stars together?  Why are you only staring at me?"

Ah. So he did notice.

'Because you outshine even the stars themselves. How can I stand to look at them when you're sitting right beside me?'

Song Lan sincerely hopes he didn't say any of that out loud. "

"Song ZiChen?"

"Ah... This... I'm..."

Xiao XingChen laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling. If Song Lan didn't know any better, he would have said that Xiao XingChen had been flirting with him.

"Y-you looked cold, is all."

It's a shoddy attempt at an excuse, but Xiao XingChen lets it slide. He shuffles closer to Song Lan, pressing their sides together until Song Lan can feel Xiao XingChen's body heat through their robes. The red flush returns to Song Lan's face as he stammers out something unintelligible. His heart feels like it's going to burst out of his chest at any moment. Xiao XingChen doesn't seem to detect anything wrong – he merely smiles again before resting his head on Song Lan's shoulder.

"Now neither of us will be too cold.")

The memory fades like dying embers. Song Lan is back in the present, and he can only watch helplessly as the life drains out of Xiao XingChen's body, leaving him the same color as the mountaintop snow. Song Lan screams, he screams so hard he can't think anymore, but no sound comes out of the tongue-less mouth that no longer belongs to him.

He would die a thousand more deaths at the Xiao XingChen's hands if it meant that he could forget the sight of his best friend taking his own life.

Xue Yang orders him away after that. His vision is once again filled with lush green forest and beams of sunlight filtering through leaves. Everything looks exactly the same as he had left it, as if the past hour had been a mere hallucination. If he tries hard enough, he could almost pretend that Xiao XingChen is still alive.

He stands there in the clearing, watching as the sky turns from azure to orange to purple. In the fading light, he can see the first stars awakening. The sight makes his heart ache, and he desperately wishes for the dark nothingness of blindness and death.

 The years pass by in a blur.

Song Lan retreats further into the recesses of his mind, trying his best to ignore the atrocities that Xue Yang forces him to commit. Even so, each murder, each life ended prematurely in senseless slaughter, is engraved deep into his soul. He opts not to think about it, losing himself in memories of happier times.

The first time he's forced to confront reality again is when someone from the Lan clan calls out to him via zither. He's dragged away from the safety of the mental walls he's constructed by three notes. It's a simple question: "Who are you?"

'A disgrace,' he thinks instinctively.

It takes his mind a while to catch up with everything that's happened. A part of him is angry at having to process all the information he's locked away, but a part of him is overjoyed at having a semblance of a voice again.

In the end, he answers with 'Song Lan.'

The group in front of him seems surprised to hear that. They say something about a blind man, and he laughs bitterly inside his head. Xue Yang isn't blind in the slightest. He just gets off on pretending to be Xiao XingChen. On sullying his name.

A second question comes: "Who killed you?"

The image of Xiao XingChen's serene face as he stabbed Shuanghua into Song Lan's heart immediately resurfaces. Song Lan forces it back down as he tries to lie to preserve whatever reputation Xiao XingChen has left. However, he finds himself unable to say anything other than the truth. He considers keeping quiet, so the world would not find out that respected Xiao XingChen had ended his own best friend's life.

As he continues to contemplate his next answer, or lack thereof, he comes to the uncomfortable realization that these cultivators honestly believe that Xue Yang is Xiao XingChen. If he says nothing, they will certainly meet a gruesome fate. Song Lan cannot have more innocent blood on his hands.

The emotional wounds from that unfateful day have not yet healed, but he pushes through the heartbreak as he answers, 'Xiao XingChen.'

The group immediately descends into chaos. Song Lan is relieved that they realize that something is wrong here, although their initial instinct is to blame the zither boy. Annoyance rushes through him as they continue to argue amongst themselves. Couldn't they tell that Xue Yang's eyes were still there?

One of the youths in the group comments on how Xiao XingChen 'doesn't seem like the type of person to do such a thing.' Melancholy suddenly replaces his annoyance. No, Xiao XingChen had not been that type of person at all. Xiao XingChen had been gentle and compassionate, virtuous and noble. Everything that Xue Yang is not.

A third question comes: "Who's controlling you?"

Behind them, Xue Yang sits up and smirks, like he's daring Song Lan to expose him. Fury consumes Song Lan as he remembers how Xue Yang had smirked just like that right before revealing the truth to Xiao XingChen. He doesn't need to think twice before he answers, 'The person sitting behind you.'

Xue Yang reacts to that immediately. He snaps as the others turn to face him. The order pierces Song Lan's brain like a bolt of lightning, wrestling his control away from him. As his limbs begin to move on their own again, he retreats back into the depths of his mind.

(Good luck. Perhaps you can finish what I could not.)

A splitting headache pulls Song Lan's consciousness out of hiding. It's a strange sensation, considering he stopped feeling physical pain after his undeath.

In front of him, the infamous Yiling Patriarch throws two black nails onto the ground.

Ah. So that's how Xue Yang had performed his blasphemous act. Without the offending objects in his head, Song Lan can feel his mind regaining control over his body. His first instinct is to find Xiao XingChen's corpse, but the return of control is not instantaneous. While he's confident that his limbs no longer belong to Xue Yang, his soul is still having some trouble readjusting to it. If the Ghost General had not been supporting him right then, Song Lan is sure that he would have collapsed onto the cobblestone street.

In the distance, he hears the sounds of a fight, as well as Xue Yang's self-absorbed voice. It sounds rather strained, as if he’s losing his composure.

(Must be nice to get a taste of your own medicine.)

The petty part of Song Lan relishes in every hit Xue Yang takes; whoever is fighting the little cretin must be damn good, judging by the fact that he's still going strong even in this thick, oppressive fog. Song Lan had been dueling Xue Yang out in the open, and he still lost. The circumstances may have been different, but in the end, the result had still been failure.

His thoughts go back to that day again and it takes all of his mental strength to pull himself out of that dark abyss. He's already spent a lifetime going over those moments in his mind, pouring countless hours over each and every single thing he could have done differently. He doesn't have the time to wallow in self-pity – he needs to see his best friend again before he's inevitably cut down for being an abomination. Thankfully, the Ghost General lets go of him to defend his master, leaving Song Lan free to limp and stagger to Xiao XingChen's final resting place.

The streets of Yicheng are not unfamiliar to him at this point. It's been the base of Xue Yang's operations for years now, and Song Lan is quite used to traversing the area blind. By the time he arrives at the mausoleum, most of his bodily functions are under his control again.

He minds the abnormally high doorstep as he enters, careful not to trip in this forsaken place. His appearance is badly received by the group of youngsters taking shelter here, who huddle together opposite him with their swords out and pointed in his direction. They look quite nervous as they stare him down, especially the one in the LanlingJin sect outfit. Song Lan pays them no mind. He's sure he can fend off all of them at the same time if the need arises. Besides, he's not after them.

In the center of the room is a mahogany-colored coffin on proud display. The lid had been removed some time earlier, revealing the peaceful-looking corpse of Xiao XingChen. Had Song Lan not personally experienced his friend's death, he would have thought that the other priest was merely sleeping. He strides over to the side of the coffin and rests a hesitant hand on the outer rim. He doesn't dare reach inside. He doesn't have the right to reach inside after everything that's happened.

A good while passes as he continues staring at Xiao XingChen's face. The sadness he's kept at bay for so long suddenly bursts from its prison, engulfing him in guilt and regret. His mind finally processes all the evil deeds he had committed in his years of servitude to Xue Yang, and the weight of it all threatens to suffocate him. 'Disgrace,' a voice inside his head hisses. 'You fucking disgrace of a priest.'

Eventually, he hears footsteps behind him, though he doesn't tear his eyes away from his friend until he hears his own name being called. Song Lan turns around slowly, his gaze settling on the two newcomers. It's the Yiling Patriarch, along with another man from the Lan family. The Lan cultivator has a zither on his back, and Song Lan can only presume that he's the famous Hanguang-jun. Droplets of blood stain his robes, evidence of his battle with Xue Yang. The fact that he's here at all is proof enough that the Hoodlum of Kuizhou is dead.

There are no questions, no interrogations on the horrors that Song Lan has seen. It's something that he's infinitely grateful for. He's not even sure he can answer even a simple question about his or Xiao XingChen's death without breaking down completely.

He waits patiently for Hanguang-jun to chop off his head with Bichen, but the attack never comes. Pity. He had made his peace years ago. Instead, the Yiling Patriarch hands him two spirit-locking bags. One of them he recognizes as holding Xiao XingChen's soul. The other is unfamiliar.

"Respected Priest Xiao XingChen and A-Qing."

Song Lan feels knives stabbing into his chest. A-Qing had been Xiao XingChen's last friend in this world, and Song Lan had failed at protecting her, too.

He carefully takes the two bags in his hands. They're so light, like the souls inside will evaporate if he so much as looks at them for too long.

"Respected Priest Song, what do you plan on doing with Respected Priest Xiao XingChen's body?"

The question surprises Song Lan. He didn't expect them to just let him go like that. He's supposed to be dead, like everyone else he's ever loved. Perhaps this is his punishment: eternal existence with the knowledge that he had caused the deaths of countless innocents, his own best friend included.

He thinks about it for a few moments, then pulls out Fuxue from its place on his back while carefully tucking away the two spirit-locking bags. With the tip the blade, he writes two sentences on the ground:

'Cremate the body. Provide care for the soul.'

It's hard for him to admit, but it's the best thing to do. He's felt Xiao XingChen's soul for himself – it's practically broken beyond repair, and had it not been for Xue Yang's meddling, it would have disappeared years ago. In spite of the remarkable preservation of his body, Xiao XingChen's soul would never return to that mortal shell ever again. It's for the best, really. It gives him the opportunity to reincarnate into a body that still has all its senses, assuming Song Lan doesn't fuck up again.

"What do you plan to do after today?"

Song Lan doesn't need to think over his answer this time.

'Carry Shuanghua on my back and travel the world. Eliminate demons and destroy evil, same as XingChen.'

It's the only way to honor Xiao XingChen's memory.

He pauses, wondering if he should write the other thing on his mind. It's personal, but he doesn't want to keep holding it in anymore.

'Wait for him to awaken. Apologize for letting him down. Tell him that it wasn't his fault.'

The thoughts had been running rampant in his head for years, gnawing at his sanity. Sharing them won't change what's happened, but it lifts one of the thousands of weights on his chest. He can only hope that those here today will keep Xiao XingChen's story alive.

With a heavy heart, he turns back towards Xiao XingChen's corpse. Cremation. Right. Song Lan's gaze sweeps over the mausoleum: the window in the front where he and A-Qing had spied on Xiao XingChen and Xue Yang; the little side room, with its bed and stove and eating utensils; the table where Xiao XingChen, A-Qing, and Xue Yang had eaten their meals; the spot where Xiao XingChen had killed himself. It all needs to go. He's sure no one will object.

He reaches into his robes, relieved to find the rest of his supplies still in one piece. It takes a moment for him to remember where everything is, but he eventually pulls out a fire talisman. The youngsters seem to understand his intentions, and scurry away towards the front doors of the mausoleum. A few of them continue to stare at him as they move past, either in suspicion or amazement. The Yiling Patriarch ushers them out, trailing behind them as they file out one by one. Hanguang-jun's gaze lingers on him for a while before he turns to leave as well.

Song Lan is alone in the mausoleum. He takes a deep breath and tosses the talisman towards Xiao XingChen's coffin. It bursts into flames as it lands on top of Xiao XingChen's chest, the white fabric of his robes catching fire immediately.

(I'm so, so sorry.)

He throws a couple more talismans towards the wooden walls, hoping that it would be enough to light the whole building on fire. The fog outside is slowly fading, so it should be dry enough for the whole place to burn down in an hour or two. He remains stationary inside the mausoleum, staring at Xiao XingChen's burning body, until the flames begin to creep up on the walls like ivy. His legs are unusually heavy as he steps over the high doorstep and rejoins the others on the streets of Yicheng.

They stay there for a while, watching as the inferno slowly consumes everything inside. Fortunately, the mausoleum is too isolated for the fire to spread to the other houses, not that Song Lan would have minded if the whole damn place went down in a conflagration. In a way, he blames this town for all the horrible things that happened in the past few years. Had Xiao XingChen not chosen this town, he wouldn't have found Xue Yang. He wouldn't have killed all those villagers, and he certainly wouldn't have killed himself. A sigh escapes Song Lan's lips as he shakes his head, chastising himself for thinking like that. That's not what Xiao XingChen would have wanted.

There's some rustling beside him, and he turns to see Hanguang-jun pulling Shuanghua out of his robes. The scabbard is nowhere to be found. Song Lan receives the sword with trembling hands.

It feels strange to hold Shuanghua by himself. He stares at the silver blade, the metal reflecting the sunlight that's just starting to pierce through the fog. It glistens like frost at dawn, still beautiful despite the ugly things it had seen.

It reminds him of Xiao XingChen.

He needs to treat it well, better than he treated Xiao XingChen all those years ago. The first thing he needs to do is procure a new scabbard for it. It'll never match up to the previous one, but it's better than not having one at all. He's getting ahead of himself – he hasn't even left Yicheng yet. He shifts Shuanghua to his left hand while he reaches for Fuxue with his right. On the ground he writes:

'Thank you.'

Hanguang-jun merely nods at him, while the Yiling Patriarch stares at him with pity and understanding in his eyes.

"Let's get out of here. I'm sure you don't want to spend another minute in this place."

Song Lan glances back at the blaze behind him one last time before he follows the cultivators out of Yicheng.

 They part ways at the city gates. The cultivators follow the path back to civilization, while Song Lan follows the path that leads further into the mountains. He's not sure where he's going; it's strange, not having a destination in mind after chasing clues for so many years. He supposes it doesn't matter. After all, Xiao XingChen had wandered like this for just as long.

Shuanghua hangs beside Fuxue on his back, wrapped in some white cloth he had found on the way out of town. It's surprisingly heavy, even though it had been so light in his hands. Maybe it's the guilt weighing him down.

Yicheng is almost out of sight behind him when something tumbles out of his sleeve. It's the night-sky obsidian he'd found years ago on his way into the city. A sad smile appears on his face as he bends down to pick it up. Things had been so much simpler back then. Yes, his heart had ached then as well, but it had been a different kind of ache: a dull throbbing in the back of his mind, compared to the chronic fatigue that now wracks his entire body.

Song Lan sighs and vaguely wonders if he could go back to a time where he still had hope. The obsidian shimmers brightly, as if it had understood his question.

Not a moment later, a searing pain overwhelms his senses.

It feels like someone has stuffed white-hot irons inside his eyes, mouth, and chest, incinerating him from the inside out.

He falls to his knees. His eyes squeeze shut as his mouth opens in a soundless scream. His fingers claw at his face, though he's careful to avoid his eyes. It's been a long time since he's felt such terrible agony, not since... Not since Baixue Temple. He can barely think through the pain, and it's a welcome relief when he finally slips into unconsciousness.

When Song Lan comes to again, he's distinctly aware of something jabbing into his foot. Hadn't he been kneeling earlier...? The question makes his head hurt more than it already does, and he quickly forgets it. He stays there, unmoving and unthinking for what seems like an eternity before he feels alright enough to do something.

Tentatively, he opens his eyes. The world is blurry around him, but gradually comes into focus. In the distance, he can barely make out the front gates of Yicheng. The jabbing in his foot... The gates off in the distance... It all feels oddly familiar.

Shaking his head, Song Lan takes his foot off the sharp object he's stepped on.

It's the obsidian shard.

He stares in disbelief at the rock, then back up at the gates. Now that he's looking at them more closely, he can tell that they're not the decrepit, run-down ones he had passed through when he left the town. The gates are red, not faded white, and there's no graffiti on the walls. The corner towers on the walls are still intact. It looks like the Yicheng of several years ago.

Song Lan's hand shakes uncontrollably as he reaches up to touch the scar at his heart. He feels nothing. His hand travels up further to his mouth and he slips a hesitant finger past his lips. It meets a warm tongue. A sob escapes him, and this time, it's accompanied by the sound of his own voice. It's strange and unfamiliar to his ears. He tries to say something, but it comes out garbled after years of disuse. It takes him a few tries, but two recognizable words finally come out: XingChen.

Song Lan doesn't know if this is another aberrant fever dream conjured up by his mind to deal with his heartbreak, or if he's actually traveled back in time. It all feels too real to be a delusion, though. It doesn't actually matter if it's real or fake, he figures after a while. A chance at undoing his mistakes, even if it's all a hallucination, is more than he could have ever hoped for.

He leans down and picks up the obsidian for the third time.

"Thank you."

Song Lan retraces his footsteps in Yicheng, trying to find A-Qing's distinctive figure. Sure, he could go straight to the mausoleum by himself, but he figures it would be better to have A-Qing at his side. She can back him up if Xiao XingChen refuses to believe him about Xue Yang.

 It doesn't take too long to find her – there's only so many blind girls with bamboo poles in this isolated mountain town. He tries to remember the sequence of events of this day, but it's all fuzzy after years of repression. People around him give him weird looks as he stands in the middle of the road with no indication of moving. Eventually, he approaches her. He doesn't need to remember exactly what he did or said, as long as it roughly follows the same template.

"Miss." Song Lan gently places his horsetail whisk on A-Qing's shoulder, causing her to stop in her tracks. "You shouldn't walk so fast if you're blind." She turns around and stares at him, her head tilted to the side slightly. Using his whisk, he guides her towards the side of the road. "There's less people here on the side of the road."

Her expression of surprise turns into one of happiness, her frown morphing into a wide grin. "A-Qing thanks the respected priest!"

A faint smile appears on Song Lan's face.

'Don't worry, A-Qing. I'll protect you this time.'

"This place has a lot of negative energies, so don't go wild playing and don't stay outside after dark." He's sure that Xiao XingChen's already told her all of this, but he needs to pretend like he hasn't seen or experienced the ruinous future ahead of them.

"Okay!"

Song Lan gives her a nod before he continues walking forward. He makes sure that she's within earshot as he stops a passerby. "Excuse me. Have you seen a blind priest with a sword around here?"

"I'm not sure," the man says. Song Lan wants to roll his eyes. Xiao XingChen has lived in this damn town for years, and the people still haven't noticed a blind priest with a sword? Really now. "Respected priest, there's probably some people up ahead that might know."

"Many thanks."

He hopes he doesn't sound too sarcastic.

Behind him, A-Qing's pole strikes the ground. He turns around and raises an eyebrow at her, though he knows that she can't see it. Her voice is guarded as she asks, "Why does this respected priest want to find the other respected priest?"

"...You know of this person?"

Song Lan already knows the answer to this question, but he asks it anyway.

"I might, or I might not."

"How can I find him?"

"If you answer a few of my questions, then it's quite possible that I've seen him around. Are you a friend of that respected priest?"

He doesn't hesitate to say yes.

A-Qing doesn't look convinced. Song Lan grimaces slightly as he wonders if he screwed up somewhere.

"Do you really know him? How tall is he? Is he pretty or ugly? What's his sword like?"

He vaguely remembers her asking him these very same questions before. Now that he's gotten a chance to hear them again, he finds it very odd that she would ask those questions in particular. She's blind, isn't she? How would she know how tall Xiao XingChen is, or what he looks like, or what Shuanghua looks like?

"He's a little bit shorter than I am, he's absolutely gorgeous, and his sword is engraved with a rime pattern."

He carefully gauges her reaction, but there's no sign of recognition in her eyes. Maybe she was just trying to see how he would answer? She does seem to think that his answer is sufficient though, and says, "I know where he is. Just follow me, respected priest!"

"Thank you."

Song Lan uses the walk to the mausoleum to think of a plan. The last time, they had arrived just in time to see Xue Yang returning. It was possible that they would miss him this time, since Song Lan had dillydallied outside Yicheng for a bit. However, that means that he might be leaving the mausoleum for groceries around this time. Song Lan prays that that won't be the case.

He still has no idea what he's going to say to Xiao XingChen when they arrive. Xue Yang isn't outside, but he can hear Xiao XingChen's laughter coming from within.

"Damn it, he's back."

"Who?"

A-Qing pouts, a whine coming from her throat. "A bad scoundrel. He never said his name, so I have no idea who he is. The respected priest rescued him outside of this town. He clings to the respected priest the entire day – it's really damn annoying!"

Song Lan nods, his lips curving downward into a scowl. He feels a trace of anger running through him, but it's nothing like the blinding rage he had felt the first time around. This time, Xue Yang will pay – he'll make sure of that. He still doesn't have a definitive plan yet for what he's going to do, but he knows that he won't make the same mistakes twice. Turning to face A-Qing, he tells her, "Please don't make any noise. I'd like to take a peek at who this 'bad scoundrel' is."

She nods, following him to the same window that they had used in the first run-through. He stands beside the window while she crouches underneath it. It's familiar, but that doesn't comfort him in the least.

The sound of Xiao XingChen's laughter rings out again. Song Lan closes his eyes, losing himself in that sound.

(He and Xiao XingChen are sitting at the shores of the West Lake under a small wooden pavilion. It's early morning and the rising sun tints the eastern horizon with pale gold, pink, and orange hues. The waters are calm, acting like a perfect mirror that reflects the colors of the sky. Xiao XingChen has his head on Song Lan's shoulder again as he patiently waits for the sun to peak over the trees.

"I don't know why you had to pick the sunrise," Song Lan mutters. His voice is quiet, matching the stillness of the lake. "Wouldn't it have been better to see the sun set behind the western mountains?"

Xiao XingChen gently smacks his arm with his horsetail whisk. "ZiChen, I believe you were the one who said 'the sunrise' when I asked you about it."

Song Lan actually doesn't remember being asked that, but that might have been because he was too busy thinking of how cute his friend looked with a flower tucked in his hair. He wracks his brain for an excuse, but in the end, he settles for the easiest answer:

"Your surname is Xiao, isn't it? Xiao as in dawn?"

Silence.

A sudden laugh erupts from Xiao XingChen's lips and his body shakes a little from the effort. It's deafening in the relative quiet, but Song Lan finds it more enchanting than the call of songbirds that accompanies the dawn. "You're so thoughtful, ZiChen. I didn't think you had it in you."

 An almost smug look appears on Song Lan's face as he crosses his arms in front of his chest.

"I'm always thoughtful."

The sun slowly emerges from behind trees, drenching the land and sky in its brilliant light. Song Lan turns his head to glance at Xiao XingChen, watching as the sun's rays light up his face. His skin practically glows in the yellow light, accentuating his cheekbones and nose. His hair, normally the color of ink, turns almost flame-colored. His brown eyes light up orange as he gazes into the distance. Suddenly, those eyes flick over to meet Song Lan's own.

"You're staring again, ZiChen."

"...So? Shouldn't I be allowed to stare at my best friend?"

He's had that shoddy excuse prepared ever since that night on the mountain, though what he really wants to say is, 'why shouldn't I stare at the most magnificent thing for miles around?'

Xiao XingChen laughs again as he directs his gaze back towards the sky. "Alright, but you're missing out," he hums.

'No, I don't think I am.')

"Yours is shorter, I win! You have to go!"

Xue Yang's voice snaps him out of his daydream. Song Lan knows how this part goes: Xiao XingChen gets ready to leave to get the groceries, but Xue Yang stops him and goes by himself instead.

Except that doesn't happen.

Something's changed, and Song Lan doesn't know what. He waits and waits, but for some reason Xue Yang doesn't tell Xiao XingChen the truth about his trick. This polymorphism is unanticipated, throwing a giant wrench into Song Lan's crudely-constructed plans. What is he supposed to do now? Confront Xiao XingChen outside the mausoleum? Wait for him to get back? Follow him? Leave A-Qing here? Take her along?

 He doesn't have much longer to decide. Xiao XingChen rises out of his seat, grabbing the nearby basket and heading towards the front doors. Song Lan's fist clenches around his horsetail whisk, a million different scenarios running through his head. They all stop the moment Xiao XingChen steps out of the mausoleum.

Song Lan will be the first to admit that he is not ready for this. His breathing hitches as he watches Xiao XingChen, still moving, still alive, walking down the street, oblivious to Song Lan's presence. His hand shakes so much that he almost hits A-Qing with his whisk.

Perhaps this is a blessing in disguise. He can talk to Xiao XingChen alone on the road while avoiding a confrontation with Xue Yang. Song Lan isn't stupid enough to try the same thing twice, especially in a populated town where Xue Yang can do even more damage. He waits until Xiao XingChen's a bit further away before he drags A-Qing with him in the same direction. Once they're far enough away from the mausoleum, he admits, "A-Qing. You need to know something about that man the respected priest has rescued."

She looks at him with a confused expression on her face.

"His real name is Xue Yang. He... has done some terrible things in the past."

The screams of his family and friends at Baixue Temple fills his ears once again. He can see the blood, their blood, staining the freshly-fallen snow on the temple steps. Men, women, children. All dead. Except for him. He swallows heavily and continues speaking.

"I'd like to spare you the details, but... He is a murderer, amongst other things. He slaughtered an entire temple and an entire cultivating sect in the span of a few years."

A-Qing's face twists in horror. She clenches her bamboo pole so hard that her arm shakes, and proceeds to slam the pole into the ground over and over. "I knew it! I knew there was something wrong with that no-good, troublemaking asshole!" She sounds both scared and indignant. "I knew we should have left him behind to die! Aiyah, we've been living with this murderous devil for years! Who knows what he's been planning?"

Song Lan knows exactly what Xue Yang had been planning. The words from that conversation are branded into his mind, now and forever.

"I am going to follow the respected priest out of Yicheng so I can talk with him without this scoundrel interfering. I'd like you to come with me, if that's alright. I think your support would be helpful."

A-Qing nods furiously, determination replacing the fear on her face. "I know which road the respected priest is taking. I have a shortcut, follow me!"

She takes him by the hand and immediately begins to tug him along, going at speeds that are way too high for someone who's blind. She's not even bothering to stick to the sides of the road like he had advised.

"A-Qing, shouldn't you slow down? What if you run into someone?"

"You'll warn me before I do that, I'm sure of it! And so what if I bump into a few people? We gotta catch up to the respected priest!"

He doesn't want to admit it, but she's right. By the time they finally leave Yicheng, Song Lan has steered her away from no less than seven pedestrians and two market stalls. Her lack of self-preservation is concerning, but also weirdly endearing. It reminds him of A-Mei, a little girl from Baixue Temple.

Song Lan remembers the day she was born: the plum blossoms at the temple had just started blooming, covering the courtyard in splashes of pink. Her mother had named her Mei after those flowers. She had looked up to him, like he was some legendary hero. Like he was invincible. She had been the little sister he never knew he wanted. He had wanted to see her grow up into a strong, capable priestess, but that never happened. She had been nine when the... incident occurred. He still remembers her terrified voice as she screamed out his name.  

A-Qing pokes him in the ribs, as if she had somehow noticed his solemn aura. "This is the road, respected priest. Now you're gonna have to keep an eye out for the other respected priest, because I can't."

Song Lan nods, turning his attention to the task at hand. He stares off into the distance, trying to find a speck of white inside the sea of green and brown. It's an easy task – Xiao XingChen is directly ahead of them, by about fifty zhang further down the road. Song Lan hadn't noticed his silhouette earlier because he was too busy thinking about the past. The sight of Xiao XingChen's retreating figure makes him wince internally. He feels like he's dying for the second time. "I see him," he tells A-Qing in a low voice. "I'm going to walk ahead. There's nothing in our path, so feel free to catch up at your own pace."

"Okay."

She lets go of his hand, allowing him to chase after Xiao XingChen. His steps are light, but he accidentally steps on a fallen branch, alerting Xiao XingChen to his presence. Other priest stops as his head swivels backward in Song Lan's direction, his brows furrowed slightly. His voice is like a bell, clear and crisp, as he asks, "Who's there?"

There's no trace of pain in his voice, and he looks calm, if not a little wary. Song Lan's mouth goes dry as he takes in the sight of his friend, still clean and pristine. His mind keeps flashing back to the sight of Xiao XingChen's crumpled body on the floor, lying in an ever-widening pool of his own blood. The image does not fade, no matter how much he wills it away. He tries to remind himself that things will be different this time, but the words stay stuck in this throat.

Xiao XingChen interprets his inability to answer as a refusal to answer, and his expression changes from calm to suspicious immediately. He grabs Shuanghua's hilt, pulling it a third of the way out of its scabbard, and all Song Lan can think of is the sound that the blade had made when Xiao XingChen had pulled it out of his chest. He flinches, expecting the sword to pierce through his body at any second.

"Respected priest!"

A-Qing's voice drifts over from behind him. She sounds exasperated and a little upset, which makes Xiao XingChen frown in confusion.

"A-Qing? What are you doing here?"

"I was helping the other respected priest find you! And what do I hear? You pulling your sword out!"

"...Other respected priest?"

There's a dash of hope within Xiao XingChen's guarded voice, and it's the push that Song Lan needs to finally speak.

"XingChen."

His voice is suddenly hoarse, even though he had been speaking just fine to the Yicheng residents and A-Qing.

"...ZiChen?"

The basket and horsetail whisk drop from Xiao XingChen's hand as he lets go of Shuanghua and rushes towards Song Lan. His hand extends toward his best friend but stops short of touching him. "Respected Priest Song, is that you?"

Song Lan is immediately reminded of the Xiao XingChen whose bandages and face had been covered in blood as he desperately called out to a dead man who would not, could not respond. He banishes the thought from his mind, because Xiao XingChen is standing in front of him right now, looking nothing like the bloodied mess from his memories.

He reaches out, lacing his fingers with Xiao XingChen's. "It's me," he whispers, his voice quivering like leaves in the wind.

A choked noise comes out of Xiao XingChen's mouth as he throws an arm around Song Lan's neck and pulls him close. His whole body is trembling, as if he's about to start crying any second. He radiates warmth, unlike the cold corpse lying in the coffin. Song Lan gently strokes Xiao XingChen's back to calm him down, though it's just as much for his own comfort as it is for Xiao XingChen's. "I missed you," he mumbles quietly, trying to take in the fact that his best friend is here. "So much."

"Me too. I... I'm... How did you find me?"

"Years of dedication and hope."

Xiao XingChen sniffles woefully, then chuckles. "I should have guessed. My tenacious ZiChen." A soft sigh escapes his lips before he buries his face in the crook of Song Lan's neck. Song Lan can feel two wet spots where Xiao XingChen's eyes should be, but he endures the sensation for now. "I'm so sorry about leaving you without a word. I was... I –"

Xiao XingChen's voice cracks a little.

The words that had been stuck in Song Lan's head for years upon years spill out of his mouth like water from a burst dam. "Shhh. You don't have to say anything. It was all my fault. I was so unbelievably angry and I lashed out at you. I didn't have the right to say any of the awful things I said. XingChen, you did nothing wrong, I promise you. I'm just so glad I found you again." A salty taste enters his mouth, and Song Lan is suddenly aware of the tears falling down his face. He raises a sleeve to dab at his face, but the tears just keep coming. Still, there's a wide smile on his face that refuses to go away.

A-Qing squeals behind them. "That is so touching! See, this is the kind of story you should be telling, respected priest! Not the one where everyone dies!"

Xiao XingChen laughs, though the sound is muffled against Song Lan's robes. "I'm sorry, A-Qing. Like I said, I'm not any good at telling stories. You should ask Respected Priest Song next time. He knows a lot of stories."  

"Speaking of which, what's the story behind you two?"

"A-Qing – "

"I wanna know! Tell me! I deserve to know for my help! Respected priest, you said it's only fair to pay someone for services rendered!"

Song Lan is the one laughing this time, because it's such a Xiao XingChen thing to say. "Well, you heard the young lady." Another chuckle comes from his best friend, who nods before reluctantly lifting his head. Two growing red spots are easily visible on his bandages. Song Lan frowns, reaching up and gently cupping Xiao XingChen's face. "XingChen, you're bleeding."

"I'm fine."

"Do you want me to change your bandages? Or I can wash these ones –"

"No, I'm fine. Really."

Xiao XingChen quickly turns away from him, a pained expression on his face.

Oh.

Song Lan pulls his hand away and subconsciously touches the corners of his eyes. The eyes that are supposed to belong to Xiao XingChen. The eyes that reflected a sea of stars and glowed with the light of the coming dawn. The eyes that had once looked at him with such adoration.

"...I'm sorry."

Xiao XingChen shakes his head and smiles, though there's a hint of sadness buried deep underneath. "Don't worry about it, ZiChen," he says, pulling away from their embrace. Their hands stay intertwined as he goes over to pick up the fallen basket. "Alright, A-Qing. How about I tell you that story on the way back? Respected Priest Song and I have a lot to catch up on."

Song Lan catches Xiao XingChen's hand before it reaches the basket. "Actually, XingChen, I don't think we should be getting the groceries. There's... something I need to tell you."

The confused look returns. "...What is it?"

Song Lan takes a deep breath, trying not to lose his nerve. He already knows that Xiao XingChen isn't going to react well to this, but he needs to get the truth out there before anything goes awry. "The man you rescued, the one's that been living with you. It's Xue Yang."

Xiao XingChen's face falls. He had been pale to begin with, but now he looked paper-white. "...Xue Yang?" he whispers, his voice barely audible. His grip on Song Lan's hand tightens, almost crushing Song Lan's fingers. "No, no. That can't be right, I've heard his voice. He sounds nothing like Xue Yang."

Song Lan shakes his head and firmly holds Xiao XingChen's shoulder with his free hand. "XingChen, would I lie to you? Would I throw that assertion out so lightly after all he's put us through? I've seen the guy for myself. He is Xue Yang, nine fingers and all. He's just disguising his voice."

Xiao XingChen's head shakes as he takes a step back. "Oh heavens, what have I done? He was this close to dying and I saved him. I saved him and let him get close to me and –" His hand slips from Song Lan's as he falls to his knees, the red patches on his bandages growing even bigger. "I thought he was my friend." Song Lan kneels down beside him, pulling Xiao XingChen back into his embrace.

"It's not your fault. You were just saving a life, like we always tried to do. How could you have known?"

A-Qing joins their little group hug, her cheek pressed against Xiao XingChen's back. "Yeah! Respected priest, it's not like you could see him!"

"But I should have known."

Guilt surges up from Song Lan's gut. His voice wavers a little as he says, "It's all my fault. You shouldn't have... I didn't deserve your eyes, XingChen."

Xiao XingChen's entire body stiffens upon hearing those words. He pulls away from Song Lan and glares at him, even though he has no eyes to glare with. "How dare you!" he hisses, gripping Song Lan's robes so hard that his knuckles turn white. "I made that sacrifice of my own volition and I have never regretted it for a second. Do not ever tell me that you are undeserving of anything, because you, Song ZiChen, deserve the world."

Song Lan can only stare stupidly at Xiao XingChen in the wake of his outburst. His jaws open and close, but no words come out. Xiao XingChen has never used that tone with him before. In fact, he can't recall a single time when his best friend has sounded so openly furious. Judging by the shocked look on A-Qing's face, she hasn't either.

Silence pervades for next few minutes as Xiao XingChen regains his composure. When he's finally calm enough to speak again, he releases his hold on Song Lan's lapel and begins smoothing it back down. "I'm going back to the mausoleum."

A-Qing blurts out, "What, why?"

"XingChen, that's a bad idea," Song Lan says in agreement. If Xiao XingChen goes back to interrogate Xue Yang, who knows what would happen? Just because Xue Yang can't hold the death of Song Lan over Xiao XingChen's head doesn't mean that he hasn't got anything else up his sleeve. There's always the slim but not impossible chance that he could succeed in killing Xiao XingChen and turning him into a fierce corpse puppet.

"Yeah! We should just run away, the three of us!"

Xiao XingChen shakes his head, seemingly resolute in his decision. "I need to question him. I need to find out just what he's planning, what his motives are. I can't just leave the people of Yicheng to endure his evil schemes. ZiChen – stay here and protect A-Qing. I'll be fine."

"No."

The forcefulness in Song Lan's voice surprises even himself. However, it does nothing to convince Xiao XingChen to stay.

"ZiChen, I can handle myself –"

"I said no."

"Why not?"

A growl escapes Song Lan's throat as frustration builds up in his chest. 'Why not?' Why couldn't Xiao XingChen understand? Why couldn't he realize what was going to happen if he confronted Xue Yang right there and then? A thousand words swirl around in Song Lan's head, but only a four come out: "Xue Yang is dangerous."

"Yes, I know that. But I've subdued him once before and I can do it again."

Subdue? Song Lan's tried that before – and he paid for it with his life. His and Xiao XingChen's. Years ago, he would have been the first to admit that Xiao XingChen was the better cultivator and swordsman out of the two of them. Now though... He's sure that Xiao XingChen would do fine on ordinary night hunts, but this is no ordinary night hunt. Xue Yang has already taken advantage of Xiao XingChen's blindness multiple times prior. What's to stop him from doing it again, this time with worse consequences?

"No, you can't."

Xiao XingChen's brows furrow slightly. "...Is this about my blindness?"

Song Lan wants to deny that allegation, even if it's true. But he can't. Not with Xiao XingChen's life potentially on the line.

"...Yes."

"Hey! Are you looking down on us blind people, too?!" A-Qing suddenly yells out from behind Xiao XingChen, her bamboo pole waving in the air. "The respected priest might be blind, but he's super powerful! And so is his sword! You should know that!" Xiao XingChen turns around, wrapping an arm around A-Qing in an attempt to console her. Song Lan had expected the outburst, but he feels no less guilty about being lectured.

"Yes, I do know that. But Shuanghua's power is limited." He swallows, looking conflicted as he tries to hint at the truth without revealing all of it. "There are things it can't tell you, XingChen. Things that you need eyes to notice."

"If you're trying to tell me something, ZiChen, just say it. There's no need to beat around the bush."

"It's not that simple."

"How hard can it be? We've always been honest with each other."

Song Lan has never been particularly good at refusing Xiao XingChen. Having Xiao XingChen in front of him after so many years of regret and longing makes it even harder. He bites his lip and shakes his head. "Forget I said anything."

"Song ZiChen."

Xiao XingChen uses that tone of his that implies he won't take no for an answer. He doesn't use it often, only when there's a situation where there's no compromise in sight. Song Lan's heard it plenty of times, but it's never been directed at himself. His resolve crumbles away into dust.

"...When you first arrived here, you went on night hunts for walking corpses, right? You killed a lot of them. Villages worth."

"How did you know about –"

"Xue Yang was with you for a majority of them."

"Yes, but he didn't do anything. He just pointed me towards them. Shuanghua confirmed their necrotic energies."

Song Lan takes a deep breath. This was not a truth that would set either of them free. This truth would ruin Xiao XingChen, driving him deeper into darkness that had been consuming him for the past few years. Song Lan already knows that he'll never forgive himself for the words he's about to say, but he convinces himself that it's better for Xiao XingChen to hear it from him rather than Xue Yang.

He shuts his eyes so he won't have to see Xiao XingChen's reaction and says, "Those weren't corpses. They were villagers who were corpse-poisoned. Xue Yang cut out their tongues beforehand so they couldn't confirm otherwise."

"...What."

Even though his eyes are closed and his vision is black, his brain automatically supplies the image of a disgusted and horrified Xiao XingChen.

"How do you know all of this...? You only got here today, didn't you?"

Xiao XingChen sounds... scared.

"It doesn't matter. You can't go back to that mausoleum. You can't. I won't let you. I... I..."

The tears are falling again, faster this time. He suddenly feels Xiao XingChen's hands at the sides of his face. His fingers feel cold as they brush against his cheekbones, and it reminds him of the cold corpse laying so haphazardly on the dirty ground. A shaky sigh escapes Song Lan's lips as his fingers dig into the dirt beneath him.

"What's happened to you, ZiChen?"

What hasn't happened to him? 

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

The hideous memories all rush forth to the front of his mind at the same time. The more he tries to sort them out, the more disorganized they become. The emotions they incite in him are stronger now that Xiao XingChen is in front of him, making Song Lan feel like a beast after its first taste of blood. His lips press into a thin line as he lifts opens his eyes again to stare at Xiao XingChen's face, blurred once again by tears.

"I died, XingChen. I died. Today. Here, on this very road."

"...What are you talking about? You're clearly quite alive."

Song Lan shakes his head. He wants to explain, he really does, but how can he put years of suffering and guilt and regret into words? Instead, he just lets the whirlwind of thoughts shoot out of his mouth, in whatever order they pleased.

"Xue Yang killed me. Right about this time. He cut out my tongue and killed me."

"You're not making any sense, ZiChen."

"Xue Yang killed me," Song Lan repeats again, almost like he's trying to convince himself of the fact instead of Xiao XingChen. His voice is emotionless, but his body shakes like a plucked zither string. "I confronted him about you and he killed me. He turned me into his corpse slave and showed me off to you and told you about all the awful things he tricked you into doing."

His hand reaches up to touch the carotid artery on his neck.

"I watched you die," he gasps. His breathing is uneven and he can barely get the words out.  "Y-you begged for my forgiveness and then you killed yourself. The blood... There was so much blood. XingChen, I can't go through that again. Please, don't go..."

Xiao XingChen's face is twisted into a mix of bewilderment and pity. Song Lan knows how crazy he must sound right now, raving on about things from the past that have not yet happened. Even so, Xiao XingChen seems to be taking it all in stride. He pulls Song Lan toward himself until Song Lan's head is resting on his shoulder, then softly dabs at his eyes with a white sleeve.

"I'm not quite sure I understand, still." His voice is calm, bordering on motherly. It soothes Song Lan's frazzled mind, easing him out of his frenzy somewhat.

A-Qing's pipes up from beside Xiao XingChen: "Yeah, Respected Priest Song, why were you using past tense?" She sounds a little shaken up, probably because he mentioned Xiao XingChen's rather gruesome death. He feels awful about bringing up such a morbid topic in front of someone as young as her, but it couldn't be helped. Fortunately, her direct question is a lot easier to answer than Xiao XingChen's open-ended one.

"I... This sequence of events... I've experienced it all before. Lived out its aftermath."

"Respected Priest Song, are you telling me that you're a time traveler?"

It's hard to miss the skepticism in her voice. "I know how this sounds, but –"

"I believe you, ZiChen."

Song Lan is speechless for a second. He hadn't expected it to be that easy, but then again, Xiao XingChen has always been the trusting sort. "...You do?"

Xiao XingChen offers him a sad smile, his slender fingers now running through Song Lan's hair. The movements are slow and methodical, as if he's carefully calculated each stroke. "You've always been a stoic one, ZiChen. Even when the snow turned the color of autumn leaves, you were still contained in your rage and despair. This is the first time I've seen you like this... How could I not believe you?

Song Lan sniffles, trying in vain to calm himself. In their years apart, he had forgotten how well Xiao XingChen knows him.

"I'm sorry."

"What's there to apologize for?"

A simple phrase, yet those five words were like a warm spring breeze blowing away the biting chill of winter. Song Lan releases the breath he didn’t know he had been holding as his entire body practically collapses in exhaustion. Was this his absolution? Not by a longshot. But it was something. The rest could come later… assuming everything went well.

A while later, Song Lan forces himself up off the ground, helping Xiao XingChen and A-Qing up along the way. He gives them both a once-over and carefully dusts off the dirt and debris on their clothes. He picks up Xiao XingChen’s fallen horsetail whisk and hands it back to him, while giving the basket a petty kick.

He swears someone is giving him a judging stare, but his conscience is probably making it up.

"If I don't return soon, Xue Yang will start getting suspicious. He'll likely come looking for me," Xiao XingChen mumbles, looking uncomfortable at the thought. The corners of his mouth are downturned and his brows are furrowed in the same way they always do when he’s about to engage a fearsome foe. A fierce, protective feeling floods Song Lan's heart and he resists the urge to take Xiao XingChen into his arms and never let him go. 

 "Ugh, that smarmy dog," A-Qing snaps, spitting angrily onto the path. "Why can't he just leave the respected priest alone?!"

Song Lan feels inclined to agree; Xue Yang's torment of Xiao XingChen never stops, it seems. His mind flashes back to when Xiao XingChen had found him and Xue Yang on this very road. He wonders if that Xiao XingChen had felt the same pull to investigate his missing 'roommate.' The thought causes another spark of jealousy to run through him. All those years that Xue Yang had spent at Xiao XingChen's side, all of the smiles that Xiao XingChen had given, all the kind words that he had said... They should have been Song Lan's.

His hand subconsciously grips Fuxue's hilt. "Then let him. Better to fight him here in the wilderness than surrounded by innocent bystanders."

"But what about A-Qing?"

The aforementioned girl interjects: "Don't worry, respected priests! I know a second way into town. If he finds me, I'll pretend like I've been there the whole time!"

Song Lan had seen A-Qing moving about the streets earlier, and frankly he's not sure if she should be allowed to wander about on her own in a flat field, let alone a forest. Xiao XingChen seems to mirror the sentiment, an unconvinced expression decorating his face. "I don't feel safe letting you do that. What if you get lost? What if he doesn't believe you?"

"Would you rather have me staying here? He's dangerous, Respected Priest Song said so himself!"

A-Qing is right, which only makes Song Lan feel more conflicted. His base instinct is to protect her at all costs, but his mind can't come up with a good solution to ensure her safety. Xue Yang still has that corpse-poison powder on his person, and Song Lan knows that neither he nor Xiao XingChen would forgive themselves if A-Qing accidentally inhaled that stuff.

As he ponders the situation, Xiao XingChen and A-Qing continue to argue amongst themselves. Neither of them show any indication of backing down, but Song Lan can practically see the ever-widening cracks in Xiao XingChen’s defenses. He understands exactly how his friend feels – if it had been A-Mei standing there, he would have given in, too.

Finally, he speaks up: “I agree with A-Qing.”

“ZiChen!”

The hint of scandalous betrayal in Xiao XingChen’s voice is enough to show his displeasure towards Song Lan’s decision.

“I don’t like it either, but what’s the alternative? Keep her with us and risk her getting injured, or worse?”

Xiao XingChen’s brows tighten for a split second before his expression turns into one of defeat. “Very well,” he sighs, his shoulders sagging just a little. He turns towards A-Qing and gently ruffles her hair. “I’ll go along with your plan, but please be careful. Avoid Xue Yang if you can.”

A-Qing nods vigorously, a big grin on her face. “I’ll be out until sundown, then I’ll go back to the mausoleum. I’ll lay down in my coffin-bed so he’ll think I’m asleep if he comes back.”

“Yes, that sounds good. Stay safe.”

“Stop worrying!”

As her petite figure disappears into the underbrush, Song Lan slides closer to Xiao XingChen. His fingers fiddle with his horsetail whisk, messing up the fine white hairs before smoothing them back down again. Xiao XingChen turns to face him, his head tilted slightly towards the side. “Anxious?”

Song Lan can’t wait for Xiao XingChen to change those bloodstained bandages, which mock him more and more the longer he stares at them. “I… Well… Yes.”

“Don’t be. We’ll get him this time.”

“That’s… That’s not what I’m worried about.”

Song Lan bites his lip, his eyes darting between the empty road and Xiao XingChen’s curious face. It’s now or never. “…XingChen, can I tell you something?” He can hear the way his voice wavers just slightly, and he’s sure Xiao XingChen’s already picked up on it.

“Of course.”

“Listen, if things don’t turn out the way we expect them to, I need you to know that… That…” His throat suddenly feels raw, the words stuck in their like balls of rice. The cowardice that had engulfed him once upon a time rears its ugly head again, creeping further up his spine with each passing millisecond. Xiao XingChen “looks” at him expectantly, waiting patiently for him to complete his statement.

Song Lan takes a good, long look at his friend’s face – his beautiful, lively face with the upturned smile and pale red lips and the few strands of hair that always seem to be out of place no matter how much he tries to fix it – and his mouth starts moving automatically. “I love you, Xiao XingChen. I always have, and I always will. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you because I said something out of line. Forgive me.”

The tips of his ears turn red and he lowers his head, starting intently at the specks of light brown dirt on his black shoes. His heart is racing, pumping a mix of trepidation and relief through his veins.

A hand reaches out and grabs his. Song Lan takes a tentative glance upward and is met with the most glowing smile he’s ever seen. “Oh, ZiChen…” Xiao XingChen whispers, his voice filled with what Song Lan can only classify as delight. He takes Song Lan’s hand and places it over his chest, directly on top of where his heart would be. Song Lan can feel the steady thump-thump of Xiao XingChen’s heart through his robes; he might be imagining it, but he swears it’s faster than normal. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that. I’ve loved you for a long time, too. I… I guess I was afraid, for the same reasons.”

Slack-jawed, Song Lan stares blankly at Xiao XingChen. Suddenly, he laughs. “We’re terrible at communicating, aren’t we?” he muses, pressing his forehead against Xiao XingChen’s. Their noses touch as Xiao XingChen leans in closer.

“Yes, I suppose so…”

Song Lan still can’t believe it. All this time, and they had felt the same way towards each other. So much heartache that could have been avoided, if only either of them had made a move. Sometimes, being so alike had its disadvantages.

They stay like that for what seems like an eternity, Song Lan’s heart doing endless summersaults inside his chest. Eventually, he speaks up again. “…Xiao XingChen, may… May I kiss you?”

Xiao XingChen giggles. “So formal, Respected Priest Song ZiChen,” he teases, revealing a hint of a younger, less troubled priest. “But yes, yes you may.”

Song Lan slowly closes the gap between their lips, as if he still can’t process what’s happening. When their lips meet, he’s suddenly aware of how Xiao XingChen’s lips feel the exact way he’d imagined: soft, warm, and the tiniest bit chapped. His hand slides up from Xiao XingChen’s chest to his neck, his thumb brushing against Xiao XingChen’s jaw. Xiao XingChen hums in approval, wrapping his arms around Song Lan’s neck.

The kiss ends too soon, but Song Lan doesn’t try to push his luck with a second one. The last thing they need is for Xue Yang to sneak up on them while they’re vulnerable.

While he’s aware of the approaching danger, Song Lan doesn’t pull away from their embrace.

“Promise you won’t leave me again.”

Desperation and sorrow fill his voice, as small as it is, and his eyes, Xiao XingChen’s eyes, reveal an endless torment that will never be seen by Xiao XingChen himself.

“I promise, ZiChen. I promise.” There’s a tone of finality in Xiao XingChen’s voice, as if he would stop at nothing to keep his promise. “Now you have to promise you’ll tell me everything. And I do mean everything.”

Song Lan swallows uncomfortably at the thought, anxiety gripping the edges of his mind. “XingChen, I don’t think that’s a good –“

“It sounds like you’ve been bottling those feelings up for much too long. It’ll do you good to let go of some of that.”

“…Alright,” he surrenders, if only to get Xiao XingChen to drop the subject for now. “I promise.” A satisfied smile appears on Xiao XingChen’s face and he carefully pulls himself away. Song Lan’s chest fills up with warm butterflies as he watches his friend (boyfriend?) touch up his messy hair in nervous anticipation for the oncoming fight.

“…Do we have an actual strategy?” Xiao XingChen asks, giving his whisk a few test swings in front of him.

“Uh…”

Song Lan had actually never planned this far ahead. He had been so preoccupied with thoughts of Xiao XingChen and what he was going to do with his second chance that he never considered just how they were supposed to take down Xue Yang.

He digs into his memories of his fight, his nails digging into the palms of his hands as he recalls the details of his humiliating defeat. “He still has Jiangzai, that disgusting sword. You know his physical condition better I do, but I’m sure he’s as nimble as ever. He’s also carrying around some sort of weird powder – inhaling it will slowly cause you to turn into a living corpse. It’ll take a while for that to happen, but as soon as that’s in your system, you’ll register as a corpse to Shuanghua and Fuxue. I don’t know if it’s reversible, and I’d rather not have to find out.”

Xiao XingChen nods, listening intently to his explanation while fiddling with Shuanghua’s tassel. “He plays dirty, which I’m sure you’re well aware of. He’ll say things, terrible things –“

(“You said some pretty awful things, didn't you? You said that the whole reason I exterminated your temple was because of him. You took your anger out him, and you thought that was excusable. Not only that –“)

“-things that will stab you right through the heart, to try and get you to make a mistake.”

“…Is that what happened to you?”

(“– you wanted to blame him.”)

 “…Yes.” The wound, still fresh after so many years, had clouded his judgement. He had gotten impulsive, let his anger and pain dictate his actions, and paid the price for it all. “And I can’t say that I won’t react the same way this time.”

A look of sympathy flashes across Xiao XingChen’s face, followed by what Song Lan hopes (but knows) is guilt. “Okay. I think it’ll be best if you stay hidden in the forest until I need your help.”

“But–”

“No. I understand that you have a grudge against him, but I don’t want you getting hurt again.”

Song Lan opens his mouth to argue, only to be lightly smacked on the face by a whisk. The face he’s making must be so ridiculous a blind man could sense it, because he swears he sees a smirk tugging at Xiao XingChen’s lips. “Just do as I say, ZiChen.”

And because Song Lan doesn’t know how to say no to Xiao XingChen, he does what he’s told and takes up post in the branches of a tree near the side of the road. It’s close enough that he can go to Xiao XingChen’s aid, but far enough away to avoid detection. He peeks out at where Xiao XingChen stands on the side of the road, basket in hand like he’s on the way home from grocery shopping. The afternoon sun is mostly hidden by the trees, but a few beams slip though the gaps in the leaves, illuminating the ground in beans of light. Xiao XingChen happens to be in the middle of one of the biggest beams, looking like a god with his blinding white robes and luminescent hair.

(The blistering midday sun bears down like a cruel mistress on Song Lan. His robes, black like the moonless night, absorbs the light and leaves him sweltering in his clothes. The only thing stopping him from taking them off is his pride as a priest.

Normally, such dark clothing poses no problem, as his hunts take place after sunset. Today, however, is different. The prey he chases, the sanzuwu, a three-legged crow, embodies the fallen sun, and as such, are most active during the day. Song Lan has chased a particularly unruly one who has been setting fire to rural villages to this deserted mountainside, but he honestly feels like he’s going to pass out before he can even get a single glimpse of it.

As he steps over the top of a hill, he’s blinded by a flash of light, the light comes from a sparkling sword, wielded by a cultivator dressed in robes of the purest white. The red crow in front of him, despite glowing with the power of the sun, cannot hold a candle to the man’s brilliance.

Song Lan watches, fascinated, as the man dual wields his horsetail whisk and his shimmering-like-frost sword. It’s not as if he’s unfamiliar with the combination of weapons – he has his own horsetail whisk and sword – but something about the way the man moves makes him seem otherworldly.

By the time Song Lan realizes he should be stepping in instead of gawking, the battle is practically over. The crow, missing a leg and part of its wing, looks less like the sun and more like an hours-old campfire. The man finishes it off with a single jab to the heart before turning in Song Lan’s direction.

Caught off guard, Song Lan can only stare as the immortal man approaches him with a smile.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says, voice clear of any exhaustion. “Were you after that beast, too?”

Song Lan takes a tad bit too long to answer because he’s busy marveling at how this man didn’t even break a sweat over fighting a sanzuwu in such heat. “O-oh, yes, but don’t worry about it, it was almost dead by the time I got here anyways.” Something about the way the man looks at him seems to convey that he knows that Song Lan is lying, but Song Lan starts talking before he can question it.

“My name is Song Lan, priest of Baixue Temple. May I have your name, respected priest?”

“You can call me Xiao XingChen.”)

Xiao XingChen’s cry of rage shocks him back into paying attention. He shakes his head to clear the memory and focuses his sight on where Xiao XingChen should be – only, he’s not there.

After a few frantic milliseconds of searching, Song Lan finds him further down the road, engaged in a sword fight with Xue Yang. Jiangzai makes a terrible screeching noise as it strikes Shuanghua, causing Xiao XingChen to flinch. Xue Yang takes advantage of the opportunity and takes aim at Xiao XingChen’s right hand. Xiao XingChen manages to dodge just in time, but receives a nasty cut on his shoulder instead.

“That year, Chang CiAn caused you to lose one of your fingers. The only revenge you should have sought was to cut off one of his fingers. And yet, you held on to your grudge, and multiplied it two-fold, ten-fold! You could have even cut off his entire arm! Why did you have to go and kill his entire family?! Are you trying to tell me that your one finger was worth the lives of fifty people?!" Xiao XingChen hisses, seemingly intent on having a conversation with Xue Yang, much to Song Lan’s confusion and frustration. Xiao XingChen’s natural kind-heartedness was truly a blessing and a curse.

"Of course. The finger was my own. The lives were of others. No matter how many people I kill, it will never be enough. How could fifty people ever compare to my own finger?"

The sound of Xue Yang’s voice grates on Song Lan’s nerves, but he stops himself from skewering the scheming rat where he stands. ‘Patience, ZiChen,’ he reminds himself, even as his resolve disappears little by little as he watches Xiao XingChen blatantly refuse to kill Xue Yang until he got the full story from him.

"And what about outsiders?! Why did you slaughter everyone at Baixue Temple?! Why did you have to destroy the eyes of Respected Priest Song ZiChen?!"

Song Lan freezes. Of course that had been Xiao XingChen’s intention from the start - finding out why such a horrible fate had befallen his most precious friend. Xiao XingChen is desperate for answers, but oddly enough, Song Lan is not. He cares little about the past. It’s what happens in the present that truly matters, and that’s Xiao XingChen and A-Qing.

"Why did you have to stop me? Why did you have to get in my way? Why did you have to help the Chang family over such a trivial matter? Were you helping Chang CiAn? Or were you helping Chang Ping?”

Xiao XingChen is getting sloppy in his hysteria; he’s too caught up in getting answers to fight Xue Yang properly. Xue Yang’s relentless parries pushes Xiao XingChen further and further back into the forest, where Xue Yang holds the advantage. Song Lan’s grip on Fuxue tightens. Xiao XingChen had not taken his warnings seriously enough.

“Chang Ping had shed tears of gratitude at first, had he not? And afterwards, he had begged you stop helping him, didn't he? Respected Xiao XingChen, this matter had been your fault from the start!”

Ah, those cursed words. Words that speak of fault and blame, that twist truth into lies. Song Lan has heard them before, in a moment very similar to this. He had let Xue Yang get into his head, let his false accusations cripple his thoughts. He knows what’s about to happen next –

(Corpse-poison powder fills the air like a sudden sandstorm. Caught unawares, he inhales a mouthful, only to be assaulted with a taste unlike any he’s experienced before. He coughs and wheezes, but that only causes more powder to fill his lungs, drowning him in toxins. When he least expects it, a sword slices off his tongue, and suddenly all he can taste is the coppery tang of his own blood rushing down his throat.)

No.

He will not let Xiao XingChen suffer the same fate.

Never.

“You shouldn't have interfered in the gratitudes and grudges of others! Can any outsider decide what is right or wrong? Can any outsider understand the kindnesses and complaints? You should have never left the mountain. Your teacher was so smart – why didn't you listen to her? Why didn't you stay on the mountain –“

Xue Yang suddenly chokes on his words. A sword juts out from his chest, right where his heart is.

“Surprise, bitch.”

Eyes filled with pure, boiling hatred glare back at Song Lan. “…You!”

It’s nothing more than a weak rasp, but that one word holds more venom than a rattlesnake. It’s odd – Song Lan has never reveled in another’s hatred of himself, and yet… he feels quite smug about the whole thing. He leans forward, his expression blank as he whispers, “There’s no portion for you.”

“ZiChen!”

Xiao XingChen’s expression is a blend of grateful and annoyed.

                “I warned you about his tactics, XingChen,” Song Lan replies matter-of-factly as he pulls Fuxue out from Xue Yang’s chest. He ought to give his sword a good wipe afterwards, just in case Xue Yang’s blood is tainted by the devils he conspires with. “You were letting him get to you.”

“You could have waited until he finished –“

“No, XingChen, I couldn’t. Besides, what good could it have done? He wasn’t going to repent for his sins, and you weren’t going to get any closure. Trust me, it wouldn’t have ended well.”

Xue Yang, now collapsed on the ground, reaches feebly towards Xiao XingChen. A lone piece of candy falls from his hand onto the forest floor. In a burst of envious rage, Song Lan raises his blade to slice off Xue Yang’s arm, only to be stopped at the last second by Shuanghua blocking his way.

“Don’t do this, ZiChen,” Xiao XingChen whispers, shaking his head. “I understand how you must feel, but we made a vow to walk a savior’s path. Cutting off his arm is not part of that.”

Fuxue shakes like a leaf in the wind as Song Lan slowly lowers his arm. Everything that he’s been through demands he take revenge, but he knows that would only be feeding into the cycle of suffering that Xue Yang’s been perpetuating.

He heaves a heavy sigh. “Leave him to rot, then. No one will save him this time.”

As promised, Song Lan reveals the details of his ‘previous life’ on the way back to Yicheng. He can tell that Xiao XingChen is walking slower on purpose so he can get more information from him, but he doesn’t object. Xiao XingChen’s had a terrible day, and if more information is what he wants, Song Lan will happily give it to him. Not all of it, of course – Xiao XingChen doesn’t need to hear about his own gorey suicide, nor about how A-Qing spent the rest of her life and afterlife fighting Xue Yang – but enough to form a general picture. By the end of it, Xiao XingChen’s bandages are fully soaked with blood, and he has to excuse himself to change them before they enter the town. Unlike the Yicheng of his memories, this one still has a semblance of life to it, and the townspeople would be quite concerned if a man walked in with bloody bandages around his eyes.

It’s nearing dinnertime when they arrive back at the mausoleum. Since they had spent a good part of the day on not buying groceries, they both agree that whatever food was left over from yesterday would be given to A-Qing first.

The mausoleum looks the same as it always has – dreary, worn-down, and suffocating. Xue Yang is no longer there, but Song Lan can still feel his lingering presence as they walk towards the entryway.

A spike of pain pricks his temples as Xiao XingChen pushes open the front gates. He winces, almost expecting to see blood-drenched walls and a lone corpse lying on the floor. But the walls are the same off-white color they’ve always been, and the only one lying down is A-Qing, who is neither a corpse, nor on the floor.

“We’re back,” Xiao XingChen announces.

A-Qing springs out of her coffin bed and practically leaps towards Xiao XingChen. Her arms wrap tightly around his torso as she asks, “…So is it done? Has that asshole been… dealt with?”

“Language, young lady.”

She sticks her tongue out, though it’s not like Xiao XingChen can see it. “He won’t be bothering anyone else now,” Song Lan replies, giving her a smile and a pat on the head. She beams.

“Great! I never liked that piece of shit. He always gave me the fucking creeps.”

A look of guilt embeds itself on Xiao XingChen’s face, as if he had just realized how much discomfort he had put A-Qing through by keeping Xue Yang with them. Song Lan puts a comforting hand on his back, trying to tell his friend that it wasn’t his fault without having to vocalize it. Xiao XingChen manages a strained smile.

Seemingly oblivious to the interactions between the two priests, A-Qing drags them to the table near the little side room. “Let’s have dinner to celebrate!”

Xiao XingChen and Song Lan both shift uncomfortably, but Xiao XingChen is the one who breaks the news to her. “A-Qing, I never got any groceries.” Her face quickly shifts from excited to dejected. “But don’t worry,” Xiao XingChen continues, “you can have all the leftovers. Respected Priest Song and I will be fine for tonight.”

“It’s not a celebration without food!” she whines, stamping her feet. Song Lan opens his mouth to say something about how celebrations don’t have to involve eating, but he stops when he sees her sliding something towards him with a serious expression on her face.

It’s… a piece of candy.

“Here, Respected Priest Song. To celebrate your victory.”

…She’s fucking with him, isn’t she.

“A-Qing, this is a piece of candy.”

“I know,” she says, taking out another piece and popping it into her mouth. “The respected priest gave it to me, so ya better appreciate it.”

Xiao XingChen, who had no idea what was going on until now, chuckles and claps Song Lan on the back. “Well, you heard the young lady, ZiChen. Appreciate it, because it’s the only thing you’ll have to eat until tomorrow.”

Song Lan nods, picking up the candy from the table and examining it. It’s an amber colored and slightly translucent, like caramelized sugar. Xiao XingChen never admitted it to anyone, but Song Lan had always known that it was his favorite sweet. He’s right about to eat it when he realizes that Xiao XingChen hasn’t made any movements to get his own, despite his love of the treat.

“You’re not having any?”

“I don’t have any more. I usually stock up when I buy groceries, but…”

Song Lan frowns, placing the candy back on the table. He unsheathes Fuxue, cuts the candy into two pieces, and hands off the bigger half to Xiao XingChen. “ZiChen, this is –“

“Oh, come on, XingChen. It’s your favorite. Just take it.”

(Besides, I can’t have my future husband starving.)

The way Xiao XingChen flushes a dusty pink while A-Qing screeches like a harpy alerts him to the fact that he may have actually said that last part out loud. “I mean… um…” Song Lan coughs, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly as his face and the tips of his ears turn bright red.

“What the fuck that’s so adorable, holy shit!!” A-Qing yells, slamming her bamboo pole on the floor while smacking her hand against the table. “You two are so cute!!”

Xiao XingChen hides a laugh behind his sleeve and leans his head against Song Lan’s shoulder. “So when are we having the wedding, hm?”

Song Lan’s brain skips the overheating stage and jumps right into the emergency shutdown stage. His cheeks burn hotter than what he had once considered possible, and he’s pretty sure he looks like a ripe apple. Syllables come out of his mouth, but none of them make any sense when stringed together. While he’s busy stammering, Xiao XingChen feeds him his half of the candy with a wide smile.

The crunch of his jaws crushing the brittle sugar snaps him out of it, and he grimaces in pain as his teeth throb from biting down so hard on a solid candy. “Did you have to do that?” he complains, rubbing the side of his face.

“You were going to be like that for hours if I didn’t.”

A-Qing, who has mysteriously reappeared with a small bowl of rice, interrupts them. “Okay, now I really need to know the story behind you two.”

“A-Qing –“

“I was promised a story!”

“Alright, alright,” Song Lan concedes, because he doesn’t know how to say no to A-Qing either, it seems. For once, a fond smile appears on his face as he recounts his memories. “It all started back in Jiangnan…”

By the time Song Lan finishes his tale, the moon is high up in the sky. Xiao XingChen carries the tired A-Qing to bed, then leads Song Lan to the mausoleum’s tiny living quarters.

Despite having ‘lived’ in Yicheng for so long, Song Lan has never really seen this room in its entirety before. Xue Yang had hoarded it all to himself, refusing to let anyone see even a peek of it. The area is fully furnished, with a bed, a stove, and some kitchen utensils. A few plates are drying by the window, presumably from this morning’s breakfast.

While he’s inspecting the room, Xiao XingChen begins to settle down for the night. He places Shuanghua and his horsetail whisk on top of a chest, then sits down on the edge of the bed and starts to remove his hair ornaments. Seeing this, Song Lan immediately steps in, the muscle memory from years of living together never truly disappearing from his body. Xiao XingChen whispers a quick ‘thank you’ and lays down on the bed. He pats the space next to him expectantly, even though the bed looks like it can barely fit one person, let alone two. Song Lan glares at the thing, refusing to budge from where he stands next to Xiao XingChen.

“ZiChen?”

“I’m here.”

“Yes, but you’re not there.”

“Because he’s slept there.”

Xiao XingChen sighs, as if Song Lan is being unreasonable. “I know. It’s… not the best sleeping arrangements, but it’ll have to do for now. We can set out tomorrow morning and be rid of this place, okay?” The tiredness in his voice is obvious and Song Lan immediately feels guilty for arguing. While he would have rather slept on the floor and let Xiao XingChen have the entire bed to himself, he crams all of his one-hundred-and-ninety-centimeter self into the space beside Xiao XingChen. He knows his back is going to kill him the next day, but he figures it’s worth it.

And yet, no matter how long he lays there, sleep refuses to come.

He shifts for the hundredth time that night, his eyes settling on the sleeping form of Xiao XingChen. The moonlight streaming in through the window makes Xiao XingChen’s skin look like the frosted-over snow that always clings to the tops of mountains. Song Lan has to brush a finger against his cheek to make sure that Xiao XingChen is actually asleep and not dead.

The touch causes Xiao XingChen’s face to twitch slightly, confirming that, yes, he’s simply unconscious.

Song Lan releases the breath he hadn’t known he was holding. The relief that floods his veins soon gives way to overwhelming terror. He’s fixed everything, but was any of it real? If he closes his eyes, will he still be here the next morning? Or will he be lying on the ground on the road out of Yicheng, years later, voiceless and undead?

He wraps his arms around Xiao XingChen’s waist and pulls him closer, as if that would change the outcome. He had believed that he would be content if this all turned out to be a fever dream, but now that he’s here, he can’t accept that possibility.

Suddenly, he hears a voice in the back of his head. ‘Why are you so scared, ZiChen?’ it asks, sounding awfully familiar, yet awfully foreign. ‘Even if none of this is real, they will return to you one day. Give up now, and they’ll be gone forever.’

Song Lan thinks back to the two pouches that hold Xiao XingChen and A-Qing’s souls. Fragile as they might be, given enough time and care, they will return to this land. Xiao XingChen and A-Qing are his family, in this world and all others, whether they are corporeal or not. They will be forever at his side, even if his mortal sight cannot perceive them.

He feels… at ease with that thought.

The exhaustion of the past few years hits him like a rolling boulder, and he struggles to keep his eyes open. Perhaps he’s just unused to being tired after being a fierce corpse for so long. He leans forward, kissing Xiao XingChen’s forehead and breathing in his scent.

He closes his eyes.

The coming dawn does not frighten him anymore.

"Sleep well, big brother ZiChen.’