Chapter Text
The passage of time, while almost imperceptible to gods, walked as an ever-present companion in the lives of mortals.
Shi Qingxuan landed in the Imperial City at the end of autumn with no brother, no best friend, and nothing left in the world.
The heavens went up in flames that winter, yet the near-collapse of the three realms caused but a ripple on the waters of time — by spring, humans had well forgotten the commotion and had moved on with their lives.
The seasons followed ceaselessly. A year that used to pass in the blink of an eye now flowed like a stream of sand, constant and steady. Day after day, sunrise to sunset. Shi Qingxuan found that savoring mortal life one day at a time wasn’t too bad, after all.
Before he realized, two years had passed and it was autumn once again.
Shi Qingxuan awoke to the crisp chilliness of a September morning in the dilapidated Fengshui shrine where he made his home. He folded his thin, threadbare blanket and began stretching his sore limbs. He had learned quickly that his broken arm and leg had a tendency to become stuck in uncomfortable positions during the night, but thankfully, the others had shown him early on how to massage his joints to keep blood circulating and avoid further damage. He carefully limped over to the center of the shrine, taking care to avoid stepping on any of the slumbering figures, and kneeled in front of the broken altar for his daily ritual.
Good morning, ge.
It’s almost the mid-autumn festival. Old Zhang said there will be a big celebration in the Imperial City again this year. Lots of restaurants are going to be throwing banquets and there will be plenty of food and wine. Some of the others are already celebrating, haha, it looks like we will be eating well for the next few days.
He blinked slowly. It really has been two years.
I miss you, ge. Take care.
Gathering his robes tighter around his body, Shi Qingxuan pulled himself up and began cheerfully calling out to the sleeping bodies huddled around on the floor.
“Alright, rise and shine, everybody! It’s about time to head out to the city to grab some breakfast. It’s almost the mid-autumn festival — the porridge shop is sure to have extra leftovers today!”
People began stirring. Shi Qingxuan walked around, checking up on the elderly and playfully teasing the young. The camp soon gathered their bowls and began heading into the city as a group, promising to bring back food for the ones who were too sick to leave.
As Shi Qingxuan predicted, the shops were much livelier as the festival drew close, and in good spirit there were more leftovers than usual for the group of beggars. Thanks to Shi Qingxuan’s skilled negotiation, many restaurants in the city had established a cooperative system with the beggar camps — daily leftovers were given out in exchange for odd jobs like sweeping or cargo lifting. Everyone was in a cheery mood as they sat around the street to enjoy a rare warm breakfast. Shi Qingxuan picked his way over to sit next to Old Zhang, one of the first people he had met when he arrived at the Imperial City.
Old Zhang was a kind-hearted old man in his fifties, with a boisterous temperament and a face full of smile lines. Many of the others — Shi Qingxuan included — looked up to him as the leader of the camp. Two years ago he had found a feverish Shi Qingxuan wandering around the city, injured, barely conscious, rambling nonsense about gods and demons. He brought him back to the Fengshui shrine and had looked after him in the following weeks as he recovered. Since then, Old Zhang had grown a soft spot in his heart for the young man and doted on him like a father.
That’s why, as he watched Shi Qingxuan gingerly sit down with a bowl of porridge and start blabbing about his next grand idea for the camp, he felt a pang of melancholy in his chest. Old Zhang had always been a sentimental man with a too-big heart, but he was no fool. From the impeccably dressed people that occasionally came to see Shi Qingxuan to his own hazy memory of a night with unbelievable, otherworldly sights two years ago, it was clear that the young man was no beggar or young lord down on his luck. But Old Zhang was a man of worldly affairs, and as such did not speculate over matters of the divine that did not concern him. What did concern him, however, was the faraway look he sometimes caught in Shi Qingxuan’s eyes and the knowledge that somewhere out there, there were people who cared for him that he could return to.
As he watched the young man he saw as a son — with dirt on his face, clothes, and hair — gently nurse a bowl of porridge with one arm, chattering happily about nothing in particular, he felt another ache in his heart.
“Old Feng,” he interrupted Shi Qingxuan mid-speech, “the other day, didn’t one of your old friends come by to visit again? Old...Xie or something?”
Surprised, Shi Qingxuan paused in thought for a few moments, then brightened. “Oh yeah! His High-......Old Xie dropped by the other day to ask for my expertise in divine artefacts! Let me tell you, Old Zhang— I may not look like it, but if you have a question about any divine treasure, then there’s not another soul more knowledgeable than me, hahaha!” he boasted.
“Bah, forget divine treasures, I wouldn’t know one if it was staring at me in the face! No, Old Feng, what I wanted to ask was… I remember seeing him from before, are you sure you don’t want to go back with him?”
Shi Qingxuan sobered up instantly. After deliberating for a few moments, he sighed and replied with a tired smile, “Haha, it’s… a little complicated, I guess. I… I don’t really belong with that crowd anymore.”
Xie Lian might be more preoccupied these days now that the red demon is back, but he definitely still drops not-so-subtle hints that they’d welcome him back at any time — like casually mentioning that they were lacking in manpower, and oh, by the way, did he know that the wind seat was still open? Pei Ming also still stubbornly visits him every few months, progressing from gentle cajoling to ‘I swear to the Heavens, Qingxuan, you’re coming back with me or I’m going to appoint you whether you like it or not.’
Despite threats or otherwise, neither of them actually forced him to return. He knew that it was because they both understood and respected his decisions — and for that, he was grateful (even to Pei Ming). Choosing favorites among mortals was definitely against the rules, but if Shi Qingxuan’s learned one thing after all this time it was that everyone in heaven was human, in the end.
He had no brother in heaven. No best friend in heaven. There was no one waiting for him in heaven, so why bother returning?
Scratching lightly at his scalp, Shi Qingxuan deliberated for a while and said, “Old Zhang, care to hear a story — the wild ramblings of a crazed man?”
Old Zhang saw through his obvious facade and nodded gently, “Go ahead.”
Shi Qingxuan took a deep breath, “Once upon a time, I had a dear brother and a dear friend who was my very best friend in the world. The three of us did lots of important things! I was really good at my job, too! We lived happily together for a really long time… Thinking back on it, those days I really thought we were destined to stand at the top of the world forever.
“But, as it turns out, the brother that I loved very dearly had tricked me from the very beginning. I was never supposed to walk that glorious path with the two of them. My brother had… done a terrible thing to put me on that road.
“And the friend that I cared for very dearly never existed from the very beginning. He was my enemy, all along. All those years — all of it — was a lie. I lived in ignorance for so long, chasing after frivolous and meaningless things and not once understanding a single thing.”
Shi Qingxuan smiled, “Anyways, no matter how my old friends bend the rules for me, I can’t go back because I didn’t deserve to be with them in the first place.”
Shi Qingxuan had never shared his personal history with any of the others. While Old Zhang didn’t understand the details of the story, he seemed to sense Shi Qingxuan’s uncharacteristic seriousness and understood its significance. He was deep in thought for a few minutes, then put a hand on Shi Qingxuan’s back and replied with the wisdom and gravitas of the elderly, “Old Feng, I don’t understand exactly what happened, but you have a natural ability to draw people to you. You’re earnest. You’re sincere. You’re easy to like, and hard to hate. If you were anything like you are now, I know that both your brother and friend would have cared for you deeply.”
Shi Qingxuan was surprised, but Old Zhang gently pressed on, “Look, I’ve lived for a long time. I’ve seen all kinds of suffering in this mortal life. ‘Birth, age, sickness, death’ — I’ve seen it all. I can tell that you’ve experienced much more suffering than a lot of kids your age, but you are much stronger than you think, and I’m immensely proud of you.
“That’s why it pains me to see that you are here by choice and not by circumstance. You deserve a better life than this. While I can’t know what wrongs were committed in your past, I can take a guess at what what’s keeping you here: guilt, repentance, atonement — some combination of the three, right? That’s because I know that you are a good and kind person at heart, Old Feng.” Old Zhang gave a hearty laugh and clapped Shi Qingxuan on the back, then continued earnestly, “That’s why I’ve gotta say this since you’re still young — this human life is too short to waste. I care about you, so I don’t want to see you shackling yourself down here with us when you have the potential to make a better life for yourself. If you don’t want to go back you your old friends, then don’t go back. Go somewhere else, because I know that you are strong enough to move forward.”
Shi Qingxuan was silent as he listened to the old man’s passionate words. After Old Zhang finished, he quietly mumbled, “....Thank you, Old Zhang, for looking after me. But look at me, I’m just a beggar with a limp arm and leg, where else can I go?”
Old Zhang’s face lit up with a grin, “What are you talking about, Old Feng? Who’s the first one to jump up and rush in whenever anything’s happening? Who’s the one always trying to run ahead even on a broken leg? Is there anywhere you can’t go? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to kick you out here; everyone in the camp loves having you around — even Old Zhao, despite how grumpy he acts. You’re free to stay with us as long as you like.
“But at the same time, I’ve seen you this year, and your head is in the clouds. Your heart is far away sometimes. So I just want you to understand this — you are allowed to want more. You deserve more happiness than you think.” Old Zhang smiled at him and added, “I want you to be happy.”
Shi Qingxuan’s eyes misted. He wiped his face on his dirty sleeve and said, “Old Zhang, thank you, really, for everything. I… I’ll take your words to heart.”
Old Zhang warmly patted his shoulder a few times.
—
The Mid-Autumn festival passed in an uproar of activity and celebration. Shi Qingxuan’s group spent a lively night wandering around the streets of the Imperial City among boisterous crowds of townsfolk. The good mood was infectious, seemingly heightening the generosity of passers-by, and in the end there was even more food and drink to go around than the group of beggars had expected.
Shi Qingxuan nursed a cup of wine and gazed up at the moon. While the lanterns that floated up around him weren’t nearly as extravagant as the ones his followers used to light at his temples, the warm camaraderie of joining the crowd in cheering brought a simple kind of joy, too. He smiled, and made a toast to the moon.
Ge, happy mid-autumn festival.
A few days after the festivities died down, Shi Qingxuan spent a few of the coppers he’d gathered throughout the year to buy a bundle of incense sticks.
He swept the floor of the Fengshui shrine and wiped down the broken altar with an old rag. He lit three incense sticks, bowed a few times before the altar, and carefully placed them in the incense urn. He took out a couple of stale steamed buns that he had saved from the festival, dusted them off, then placed them in the offering dishes on the counter.
Then, he kneeled in front of the altar, and prayed for a long time.
Afterwards, he took the buns from the offering plate and passed them out to the younger kids, instructing them to share amongst themselves. Turning to the camp, he announced, “Hey guys, I’m going to be taking a trip for a couple of days!”
“Old Feng, you’re going to that place again, huh?”
“Yup!”
Old Zhang and the others knew about his yearly trip and offered him some leftovers for the journey. After thanking everyone and repeatedly promising that he would be careful, he packed a small bundle and parted ways from the camp.
The Imperial City was laid out in a rectangle with the imperial court at the center. Multiple gates were set into the four walls along the edges of the city with a near-constant stream of merchants and farmers flowing through. Shi Qingxuan set out from the Eastern Gate. His destination was about a day’s journey on foot, but fortunately, this year he caught a ride with some farmers heading in the same direction on an ox-driven cart. Emerging from a thin canopy of trees, Shi Qingxuan found himself at the edge of a massive, forest-green lake shimmering with the rays of the setting sun.
Just as he burned paper money for his brother during the Zhongyuan festival, he made a trip to this quiet, peaceful lake during this particular time each year. Ideally, he would have liked to go the ocean, but the Imperial City was landlocked and he had no means of using the distance-shortening array anymore.
It was the last day of autumn. It was the day he allowed himself to remember him.
He limped over onto a rocky outcropping over the banks and spread a thin blanket across the ground. He set up the spare incense urn he packed and lit a few sticks of incense. Then, he performed a series of kowtows to a family of five that he had never met.
For his father. For his mother. For his sister. For his fiancée. For him.
As he settled in to pray, the thoughts he dared not think throughout the year came rushing in at once, unbidden.
Ming-xiong... He Xuan…
I’m sorry, He Xuan, I’m sorry I called you the wrong name all those years, I’m sorry I didn’t know anything, I’m sorry I can’t repay you—
I’m sorry.
And
I wish I could meet you again.
The last thought caught him by surprise. Did he really want to see him again?
In the early days he had often awoken in the middle of the night in cold sweat from feverish nightmares — always vivid and distinct, always about that night on Black Water Island. He had long since locked the memories of that night away deep in his heart. He wasn’t ready to confront them, not yet. He didn’t know if he would ever really be ready to face He Xuan without those memories being dragged to the surface. He remembered trembling at the sight of the Earth Master shovel, when Yin Yu’s black form had for a split second looked just a little too familiar.
But ever since the night ‘Hua Cheng’ returned his fan to him, a tiny, tiny spark of hope had been born in his heart. The fear was still there, but there was also a timid curiosity that had grown over the years to a burning question that constantly plagued his mind.
Why?
Why did he show himself? Why did he repair his fan?
The more he thought and the more he allowed himself to hope, the more his mind twisted itself into a tangled mess. In the end, He Xuan never switched his fate. His arm and leg were really his own fault; he had gotten into an unlucky run-in with a horse-drawn carriage back in the first few days of arriving in the city, when he was still delirious. That was when Old Zhang had found him.
Though he understood now that the Ming Yi he knew was an act, memories strewn across hundreds of years of interacting with the Earth Master still sprung themselves upon him when he least expected it. Scattered fragments snuck up on him regardless of how hard he willed to forget them — how Ming Yi was easily bribed with the promise of food, how Ming Yi accompanied him in female form for the first time, how Ming Yi shielded in front of him without hesitation, how Ming Yi looked when he smiled (a rare, tiny pull at the corner of his mouth). Throughout the year, they came in the predawn hours of the morning and in the twilight hours of the night, in the lull of quiet summer evenings, and in the freezing stillness of winter. Old Zhang’s voice resounded in his ears. Your head’s been in the clouds, Old Feng.
He really was a mess.
...I wish I could talk to you again.
—
It was afternoon, two days later, by the time he made it back to the Imperial City. As the shrine came into view, there appeared to be an unusual buzz of activity.
Shi Qingxuan saw a group of beggars gathered around a basket outside of the shrine doors in animated discussion and high spirits. They eagerly waved at him as he approached, “Old Feng! You’re back!”
“You came just in time, Old Feng! Come look! We just got somethin’ real good!”
“I’m coming!” Shi Qingxuan made his way over and peered over their shoulders. In the center of the huddle was a basket full of fresh vegetables — turnips, squash, cabbages — tender and crisp, all freshly picked at peak ripeness. Shi Qingxuan was speechless; with this much food they could feed the whole camp for days. “How did you guys manage to get these? The vegetables at the market don’t even look this fresh at opening time!”
One of the beggars clapped, “Oh, that’s right. A really generous lady farmer gave them to us! Actually, she’s still inside—”
He was interrupted as the door to the shrine creaked opened and Old Zhang emerged. Upon seeing Shi Qingxuan, his face lit up and he hurried over, calling, “Old Feng! Old Feng!”
He grabbed Shi Qingxuan’s good arm and began gently steering him towards the shrine. Old Zhang was normally easygoing, but at the current moment seemed to be so distracted that he didn’t even apologize for cutting the other beggar off mid-sentence. He began excitedly, “I thought I heard your voice, Old Feng. I’m glad to see you back safe, but no time to waste right now — there’s someone here for you.”
As he spoke those words, he half-dragged, half-pushed Shi Qingxuan into the Fengshui shrine.
Shi Qingxuan stepped over the threshold and froze. Sitting in the middle of the shrine, offering medicine to a person lying on the ground, was a familiar figure he had not seen in the past two years.
“L-Lord Rain Master?” he whispered.
Yushi Huang looked up at him with warm eyes and a small smile. “Qingxuan.”
She brushed the dust off her clothes and stood up. Even though she was dressed in plain farmer’s clothes — a change from the simple gowns she wore in Yushi Country — she still carried herself with her natural grace. The Rain Master bamboo hat was on her back but her longsword was nowhere to be seen.
Shi Qingxuan ducked his head. He suddenly felt an inexplicable shame wash over him that he had never experienced when other gods visited. For some unfathomable reason, a part of him didn’t want Yushi Huang to see him in his current state.
“Qingxuan, would you accompany me for a bit?” Yushi Huang spoke with her airy voice.
Shi Qingxuan nodded sheepishly, “Ah, certainly.”
They stepped out of the Fengshui shrine together and passed the cluster of people arguing over vegetables. Yushi Huang led him into a clearing a short distance away, out of earshot of the camp, and turned to face him. “Qingxuan, it’s good to see you.”
“Lord Rain Master, it’s good to see you too,” Shi Qingxuan bowed lightly, still in disbelief, then asked, “What brings you here of all places?”
“When His Highness of Xian Le visited a short while back, he mentioned by chance that you were still here in the Imperial City. Since I have some business to attend to in the city, I figured I would take the opportunity to pay you a visit.” Yushi Huang’s gaze grew more serious as she studied his face, “Qingxuan, how have you been?”
A wave of shame crept over him again. He scratched at his hair and grinned, “Ah, many thanks then to Lord Rain Master for taking the time to see me! And, well… considering everything that’s happened… It’s actually not too bad. Honestly! I’ve made a lot of friends at the camp, and everyone here treats me well. There’s usually enough to eat, too. If there’s one thing I miss, it’s being able to bathe more… ” he finished a little self-consciously, rubbing his hair.
Yushi Huang listened with a serene expression until he finished, then placed a hand on his shoulder. “Qingxuan, let me be direct. The main reason I came to the Imperial City is because of you. Would you like to go back with me to Yulong Mountain?”
He wasn’t sure he heard correctly. “Huh?”
“I would like for you to come back with me.”
“Back to… your village?”
“Yes. My village is quiet, but my people are kind,” reading his expression, she added, “I have no intention of coercing you to go back to heaven, and I can imagine that you have no interest in doing so. Instead, I want to offer you my protection and my home because you are an important friend to me, Qingxuan.”
Her voice was soft and gentle as ever. Her words warmed Shi Qingxuan as if a blanket had been draped around him. “Lord Rain Master… I, I…” he stammered.
Yushi Huang saw his hesitation and smiled, “No need to rush. I will be staying in the city until tomorrow. I will be back again tomorrow morning, so please, think about it.”
With that said, she patted him lightly on the shoulder then gestured for them to head back. She parted ways with him at the threshold of the Fengshui shrine among vigorous thank-yous from the camp for the food and medicine. Old Zhang eagerly came up to Shi Qingxuan and sat him down in a quiet corner of the shrine, clearly expectant of details.
When he relayed her offer, Old Zhang burst into the brightest smile Shi Qingxuan had ever seen the old man wear.
“Well, Old Feng?”
Shi Qingxuan was silent for a long time. He thought about his newfound friends at the camp, about Old Zhang, the kids, and all of the others.
He thought about Yushi Huang’s smile, her warmth, her understanding.
Slowly, he nodded. “...I’d like to go.”
Old Zhang pulled him into a tight hug. When they parted, there were tears in the old man’s eyes.
“Oh, Old Feng… I’m glad, I’m so glad. I’ll miss you dearly, but I’m really happy for you. This calls for a celebration!” he swung an arm around Shi Qingxuan’s shoulders and hollered at the rest of the camp, “Hey, you guys! Quit arguing over your vegetables, we’re throwing a feast in Old Feng’s honor tonight!”
—
The next morning, Yushi Huang waited with her black ox as Shi Qingxuan exchanged farewells with the camp. Old Zhang was teary-eyed, and after making him promise to take care of himself, gave him another tight hug. The younger kids cried while the adults patted him on the shoulders, sending him off with a multitude of well-wishes and teary goodbyes.
As they made their way to exit the city, Yushi Huang took him on an unexpected detour to an inn on the side of the street. She paid for a room and a bath, then presented Shi Qingxuan with a set of clean white robes.
“Take as much time as you’d like. I will be downstairs when you are ready.”
With that said, Shi Qingxuan was left alone with his thoughts for the second time in two short days.
He immediately stripped out of his dirty robes and folded them, then carefully laid out the only two pieces of personal belongings he owned on the table. One was the twice-ripped Wind Master fan and the other was the longevity lock necklace from his brother — the last reminders of his past life.
He made his way over to the tub full of steaming water. Thankfully, the wooden tub was shallow enough for him to sit on the edge. With some difficulty, he maneuvered his paralyzed leg into the tub and then gingerly submerged himself in its warm depths. The water was still too hot to be comfortable, but the sting made him feel clean, and the heat of the water and steam combined soothed the deep-rooted ache in his limbs. He let out a long sigh and relaxed fully; he really needed make sure to thank Yushi Huang properly later.
After soaking for a while, he began washing the dirt from his body. Using a rag and soap ingot he meticulously scrubbed at his face, his arm, his legs, until he could feel layers and layers of grime fall away. He washed his hair and tried to undo years’ worth of knots from the tangled mess with a comb, starting from the bottom and working his way to the top.
The bathwater had become murky and lukewarm by the time he was done. Unfortunately, getting out of the tub was much more difficult than getting in. He carefully pulled himself up along the edge into a sitting position and shifted his bad leg out, almost losing balance a couple of times in the process but ending surprisingly without injury. After leaving the tub fully, Shi Qinxuan dried himself with a towel and put on the fresh new set of robes gifted by Yushi Huang.
He walked over to a bronze mirror resting on a side table and took a proper look at himself for the first time in two years. His face stared back at him, both familiar and foreign, framed by long tresses of wet hair leaving trails in his new clothes. What did he look like at the height of Wind Master’s glory again? He couldn’t remember anymore — he was no longer the Shi Qingxuan who used to be so meticulous about personal appearances. That Shi Qingxuan who prided himself in the peerless beauty of Lady Wind Master and preened in the attention of others seemed like a distant memory, lifetimes ago.
Shi Qingxuan smiled at himself in the mirror. His cheeks seemed thinner and his eyes looked tired but, freshly washed, hair loose, he still looked the part of the playful youth from the oft-described tale ‘Young Lord Who Poured Wine’.
He was still him, after all. And all things considered, his current life was good.
He tied his hair into a loose ponytail with a string and made his way downstairs. Yushi Huang was seated at a table near a window facing the busy city street, holding a pot of tea. She gestured at the open seat across from her when he approached and poured a cup for him as well. Shi Qingxuan sat down and graciously accepted the tea from her.
“Lord Rain Master, thank you again, truly… I am forever in your debt.” He inclined his head and held his limp arm in a small bow.
“There’s no need to thank me,” she smiled, “From now on you are part of my family. Hot water is a rare commodity in the country, so we should take advantage of it while we are still here.”
When she mentioned ‘family,’ Shi Qingxuan suddenly felt a swelling in his heart and tears stinging in his eyes. He blinked rapidly and tried to laugh it off, but Yushi Huang reached across the table and placed her hand firmly on his. Her voice was wispy but her gaze held a seriousness that conveyed the gravity of her words.
Without breaking eye contact, she said, “Qingxuan, thank you for agreeing to come with me. I’m truly glad to see you again, I only wish I had come sooner.”
Shi Qingxuan hung his head. He struggled to keep his voice steady as he mumbled. “...I am undeserving of your kindness.”
Her hand tightened on his. “Shi Qingxuan. Everything that happened, happened between your brother and that other person. There is nothing that you have done wrong. There is nothing that you deserve to be punished for.”
He stared out the window at a random spot in the distance, focus blurring. “But… everything started because of me.”
“It was never your fault,” she replied.
“I’ll never be able to atone for what happened.”
“You’ve atoned more than enough.”
Tears streaked down his face as he finally whispered, “I miss my brother.”
Yushi Huang squeezed his hand again and closed her eyes. “As you will. So remember him, mourn him, honor him, but it’s time for you to take care of yourself.”
“...I miss him, too,” he confessed, like an admission of guilt.
Yushi Huang was silent for a long time.
“...There are many things in this world that cannot be judged in terms as simple as ‘right’ or ‘wrong’. Likewise, human emotions are far too complex to be separated into clear distinctions, like love or hate. That too, is a part of living — and not even gods nor ghosts can escape it. I cannot tell you what you should or should not feel, but all of your feelings are an important part of you; do not be ashamed of them.”
She held his hand as silent sobs wracked through his body. It was the first time that he had been able to talk about his brother with someone and, like a dam breaking, he could not stop the sudden tears that had welled up from somewhere deep within. They sat together for a long time in the little inn as their tea cooled to room temperature. Eventually, Yushi Huang offered him a silk handkerchief and he wiped his face with a small twinge of self-consciousness.
As they were getting ready to leave, Yushi Huang seemed to remember something, and called out, “Qingxuan, your arm and leg...” she trailed off, but Shi Qingxuan shook his head.
“Don’t worry about it. I don’t think they can be healed, but it’s okay, I’m used to it,” he said, then added in a hurry, “I will start looking after myself now, I promise.”
Yushi Huang nodded, “I understand.”
“Can I trouble you with one request, though? Do you mind if we take a detour on the way back?”
—
Xie Lian was sweeping the front of Puji Shrine when he saw the telltale figure of a black ox in the distance.
There was no mistaking the seated figures as it grew closer. He ducked into the shrine and called out, “San Lang, we have guests!”
“Oh? Shall I put on some tea, gege?”
“Please. Thank you.”
Xie Lian came back out in time to see Yushi Huang help Shi Qingxuan off of the black ox. She nodded at him and greeted, “I hope you have been well since our last meeting, Your Highness.”
Xie Lian bowed. “Same to you, Lord Rain Master.”
Shi Qingxuan hopped over and began talking excitedly. “Your Highness! How have you been since the last time you came to the Imperial City? Did everything work out with the present?”
Xie Lian remembered the disastrous proceedings of Hua Cheng’s birthday celebration and coughed. “Well, there were some complications, but it turned out alright in the end! Anyways…” hurriedly waving the subject aside, he said, “It’s good to see you again, Qingxuan, Lord Rain Master. To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing the two of you together?”
The two visitors nodded at each other. To Xie Lian’s mild surprise, Yushi Huang began leading her ox further along the road. Shi Qingxuan seemed to become more serious as he said, “Your Highness, can we talk for a bit?”
Xie Lian nodded, and held the doors of Puji Shrine open for him.
There were two freshly brewed cups of tea waiting for them on the table in the middle of the hall. Hua Cheng was leaning casually against a wall on the far side of the shrine. He tipped his head in acknowledgement as Shi Qingxuan waved at him.
Xie Lian gestured at the table and sat down.
“Is Lord Rain Master not going to be joining us?”
Shi Qingxuan shook his head and pulled up a chair. “She’s going to wait outside. Your Highness, I came by today to let you know that I’ve decided to leave the Imperial City. I’m going to go with Lord Rain Master back to her village.”
Xie Lian was both surprised and delighted.
“Oh, Qingxuan, that’s wonderful!”
God or mortal, Shi Qingxuan had been his first genuine friend upon his third ascension. His integrity had always been a rare jewel among the ranks of heaven. Xie Lian briefly recalled the bleak year without Hua Cheng where Shi Qingxuan had even personally made a few trips to Puji Shrine to check up on him, despite his bad leg.
Ever since Xie Lian found him again in the Imperial City, he had been determined to keep an eye on him. Even between the restoration of heaven and Xie Lian’s newfound duties, he made time to visit Shi Qingxuan every few months. Nevertheless, Xie Lian had never been content with leaving the former Wind Master to the harsh hand fate had dealt him in the end. Something in his heart ached every time he saw Shi Qingxuan in the Imperial City. Having experienced too well all the hardships of mortal life, Xie Lian was conflicted; he wanted to help, but didn’t know how. He truly had nothing to offer except his company.
During his last visit to Yushi Huang he really had only mentioned Shi Qingxuan in a passing remark. Never would he have imagined that she would take matters into her own hands.
He was beyond grateful.
Shi Qingxuan grinned. “Yeah, I wanted to say goodbye before I left, ‘cause you won’t be able to find me in the usual spots next time.”
“Thank you. Next time I’ll pay a visit to Yulong Mountain instead,” he promised
Shi Qingxuan laughed, then began in a more solemn tone, “Your Highness, there’s also something I wanted to ask you about. Have you heard of any news of… He Xuan?”
Hua Cheng, who had been keeping a respectful distance away from their conversation up until this point, strode up behind Xie Lian and chimed in, “He’s still around.”
“I see,” Shi Qingxuan said quietly, staring at his cup of tea with a torn expression, “so he hasn’t moved on.”
Hua Cheng nodded. “He was quite active a while back, but there are still reports of activity in Black Water’s territory recently.”
Xie Lian pondered. Ghosts are born from unfulfilled desires. If the Ship-Sinking Black Water still lingered in the mortal world, then his revenge wasn’t resolved; there must be something else that kept him on the earth.
Xie Lian studied Shi Qingxuan’s expression and hesitantly asked a question he had been burning to know the answer to for a long time. “Qingxuan… what do you think of He Xuan?”
Shi Qingxuan’s face turned a little pale.
Xie Lian mentally knocked himself on the head for overstepping his bounds and amended, “No, nevermind. I was being intrusive.”
“No, no! Let me think about it for a minute…”
Shi Qingxuan seemed to struggle to find words. “...Honestly, I’m not sure anymore. I’m scared of him. Even though it’s been two years, it’s hard for me to think about him without remembering the… the other things. But— but I also know that he’s not… a bad person.”
He quickly took a sip of tea as if to clear his throat. He continued more steadily, “This year, I’ve been thinking a lot about why I was allowed to live. The more I think about it, the more confused I became. When I think about all of the things he’s done I can’t help but feel like it was always… mercy that he was showing me.
“To be honest, I would be fine with staying in the Imperial City forever. But I’ve come to realize that, all this time, what I’ve been thinking of as repentance… isn’t really that at all. I’ve… I’ve just been trying to appease my own guilt. It’s a personal, selfish desire, and it’s probably also…” Shi Qingxuan swallowed with difficulty, and continued, “...not what he had wanted.”
He looked up at Xie Lian and smiled, “That’s why I’ve made up my mind — I’m going to start valuing this life that’s been spared for me.”
Xie Lian’s heart swelled.
“Qingxuan, you’ve really grown up.” He murmured.
Shi Qingxuan laughed and waved his hand, “I owe it to all of the people who have been looking out for me, like the Rain Master and yourself, Your Highness! And besides,” he gazed out the window into the distance, “if I stay with the Rain Master, I might get to learn more about ghosts and spirits. Maybe one day I could…”
He trailed off, then seemed to catch himself and shook his head. Hua Cheng unexpectedly spoke up again, “If Black Water comes looking for you, what will you do?”
Shi Qingxuan was quiet for a while as he twisted a strand of hair between his fingers. “I… don’t think he will ever want to see me again, but I… I would like to talk to him. There’s are some things I want to say to him.”
Hua Cheng nodded.
“And of course! I might just come to bother you at the Ghost City, too, O City Lord!” He mock-bowed at Hua Cheng.
Hua Cheng scoffed and smirked. “If you burn anything down again, be prepared to pay for it.”
Shi Qingxuan laughed, then stood up. “Thank you for everything, Your Highness — and you too, Crimson Rain Sought Flower. I’ll be off now.”
Xie Lian looked fondly at the young man in front of him — freshly dressed, clean, with a new sparkle in his eyes — and felt a weight lifting from his chest. He walked Shi Qingxuan out the door to where Yushi Huang and the ox was waiting. With a few exchanges of farewells, the two travellers once again mounted the black ox and began heading off into the forest. Xie Lian couldn’t help but feel a surge of protectiveness as he watched Shi Qingxuan’s retreating figure wave back, and asked aloud, “San Lang, do you really think Black Water will go looking for him?”
Hua Cheng sat himself down in one of the chairs and propped his chin up on one arm. He seemed contemplative for a few moments, then said in a quiet but firm tone, “Gege, I do. I won’t say that we were close, but as ghosts, I understand on some level how he must feel right now. For someone of his calibre, letting go is probably not an option.”
Xie Lian nodded and replied, “I see. I feel the same, too.”
For both of their sakes, he prayed — may the outcome of their tangled fates be a fortunate one.