Work Text:
Yue Qingyuan turned the token over in his hands. Carved in dark stone, it was uniquely simple for the power it represented.
This was the reason he had persevered. He had never known if his teacher revealed the information on purpose. But not long after he returned from his ill-fated trip to retrieve Xiao Jiu, she had set him to the job of copying out the inventory of Qiong Ding's great vaults.
Yue Qingyuan had hated the task. Gold, gems, treasures and artifacts, just sitting there and helping no one. He and Xiao Jiu had nearly died a dozen times, of starvation or cold that a single coin from the vaults could have relieved. And now Xiao Jiu was gone forever, when a tiny fraction of the sect's power and wealth could have brought him to safety.
But he didn't say anything, then. Even the resentment--dangerous in a cultivator--felt dull and distant. He'd been little more than a puppet at the time, living more through habit than intent. He sometimes wondered what it meant, that so few people in the sect had seemed to notice.
Transcribing the inventory was a quiet, solitary task that kept him away from people--away from the need to keep up that mask of a good shixiong. He didn't know what would have happened--what he would have done, if he'd gotten to the end of the inventory without a change. Yue Qingyuan thought he might have died. A qi deviation, maybe. Or perhaps he would have walked away from the sect. Perhaps the Sect Leader would have replaced him, demoting him to an ordinary disciple.
But in one of the enormous ledgers he was assigned to copy, he found a description of this carved, dark token. It had a page to itself, prefaced with warnings. It was said to be the legacy of a favor, a way to locate a being that could grant even the most impossible wish--for a price. The token was marked as one of Cang Qiong's most valuable treasures, something so precious it should be destroyed rather than allowed to fall into an outsider's hands. And it was accessible only to the Sect Leader.
Beginning with that day, Yue Qingyuan had a new purpose. He committed himself, anew, to keeping and defending his position as succeeding sect leader. After a trial period, his teacher once again began sending him out on missions representing the sect. And if his methods had a little less kindness than in the past...well, he had a different motivation, now. His teacher, notoriously ruthless herself when needed, didn't object.
*
After the handover ceremony, when their teachers had Ascended to the next world and the Qing generation had taken their place, Yue Qingyuan could barely restrain himself from fetching the token immediately. But time no longer mattered to Xiao Jiu, and if this did work, he wanted a safe place to bring him.
So Yue Qingyuan waited for some time, sorting out the changeover, smoothing the inevitable clashes as the little unrecorded compromises between the peaks were renegotiated, and making an example of a few unlucky parties who had thought the build-up to the generational change-over meant Cang Qiong wasn't paying attention.
Then, he went to the vault.
The token was extensively documented. Cang Qiong had had dealings with the mysterious shop for almost the entirety of the sect's existence. Its origin and purpose were unknown. But every item of information confirmed that it could make miracles--for a price. And that price could be more fantastic, or more dreadful, than one could imagine.
The previous Qing Jing peak lord had made meticulous notes on handling such bargains. It is critical, he had written, To be straightforward from the outset about what one is willing to bargain with. In the everyday world, one is prudent to conceal the size of one's treasury when making a trade. In the Shop, such caution can lead to disaster.
The Shop, itself, doesn't seem capable of making an extortionate exchange. Dealing as it does with desperate people, perhaps it's some protection built in by ancient covenant. Whatever the reason, any bargain made will be a free and fair trade.
This old scholar has personally spoken to a man who offered fifty years of his life, so that his son could be healed of a devastating injury. The Shop accepted only five years, for the same service--
*
When matters on Cang Qiong were as settled as he could make them, Yue Qingyuan activated the token and waited the requisite three days. Then he went down to the small city that sat at the foot of the mountain sect.
Following the directions of the token was a game of hot-and-cold; eventually, it led him to an unremarkable alley between two shops at the edge of the market district. Yue Qingyuan turned in and studied the doorway. The door was a glossy, auspicious red and the shop's sign read 'Suixin Trading House,' carved in bas relief and painted in cheerful orange script on a bright blue background. An odd choice, but unremarkable otherwise. Yue Qingyuan might have walked right past, if not for the token. The other side of that wall held a shop selling fur and leather, Yue Qingyuan knew. It was an impossible door.
His mouth was dry and his legs were shaky. This was his last, his only, hope. If it didn't work... he didn't know what he would do.
He entered, to the incongruously normal tinkling of a bell as the door opened. One room was visible, with a few shelves holding small and commonplace items. It didn't look like much. But moving through the doorway, he felt a shift. He'd entered a hidden realm, connected to that ordinary-looking door.
A man came out of the back to greet him; he was entirely unremarkable. Strangely unremarkable; even when looking right at him Yue Qingyuan wouldn't have been able to describe his appearance. But he was willing to bargain.
When Yue Qingyuan stepped out of the door just a quarter-shichen later, it was like waking from a dream. He turned immediately, to find the shop had vanished. He stood for awhile to get himself back under control, then returned to the sect. In the next few months, he had much to do.
*
The city of Linyang was utterly ordinary; Yue Qingyuan had been there for some days already, and found no sign of Xiao Jiu. He'd arrived early, to avoid any possibility of being delayed at the crucial time.
Waiting for Xiao Jiu at the market, Yue Qingyuan was almost nauseated with anticipation. He'd made every preparation he could think of. Would it be enough? Would Xiao Jiu know him? Would he be traumatized by the memories of his death, or have forgotten himself entirely? Xiao Jiu had been so wary; Yue Qingyuan didn't know if he'd be able to convince him of his good intentions in the time he had--
"Qi-ge."
Yue Qi spun to find the source of that familiar-unfamiliar voice. There was a young man, beautiful and beautifully dressed, looking at him from a little distance away. There was something familiar in the bridge of his nose, and those shining dark eyes.
There had never been much flesh on Xiao Jiu's pinched little face; they had never had enough food. But the shape of the eyes and the brow ridge, the set of his chin--and above all, those dark eyes boring into him--
"Xiao Jiu?" His lungs were frozen; he spoke, but no sound emerged. He reached out, but hesitated. What if making contact was what would complete the bargain? He wanted, desperately, to talk to Xiao Jiu, to know he was alright--to explain, if he could. "Are--are you real?"
That familiar-unfamiliar adult face gave him a look that was entirely Xiao Jiu. "Of course I'm real," the man said. And reached up to touch Yue Qingyuan's hand. It felt like he'd been given a breath when he was drowning, so good it almost hurt.
Yue Qingyuan gasped at the contact. "You're grown up now--I was expecting--" He broke off, eyes fixed on this dear and unknown face.
Xiao Jiu looked away, as he always had when he was trying to hide some small injury or wrongdoing from Yue Qingyuan. "I didn't die," he said. "The Shop--the Shopkeeper found me. He said you were looking for me."
"I was--Xiao Jiu, you're alive?" If he was here, really here, really real--
"Come off the street. You're scaring the merchants."
*
Back at the inn, Xiao Jiu kept staring, before quickly drawing his eyes away to look anywhere but at Yue Qingyuan. And he was unraveling--the disintegrating composure of a man who rarely permitted himself emotional outbursts, suddenly being overwhelmed by one.
Yue Qingyuan was fascinated by the similarities and differences in Xiao Jiu's face. Or--perhaps it wasn't appropriate to call him that any more. He'd grown up, after all. But Yue Qingyuan would wait until he objected to the endearment.
His Xiao Jiu was beautiful, now--and powerful. Yue Qingyuan could feel his qi without trying, a constant draw like a cold ocean current. He was still thin, but now he stood as tall and straight as a stalk of bamboo. Yue Qingyuan had imagined, many times, what Xiao Jiu would be like if he'd been allowed to grow up.
He was transfixed by the duality. It was like an optical illusion; a turn of the head or a flicker of the eyelids would suddenly tell him Xiao Jiu without any change in the underlying face or posture. His voice was entirely changed, his street urchin's cant replaced with scholarly locution and a well-educated dialect. But the rhythm of his speech was as familiar as his heartbeat.
But one thing hadn't changed; he still looked at Yue Qingyuan as if he was the most important person in his world.