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Chapter Text

Xue Yang hasn’t always been an insolent brat.

At the age of five, his earliest memory, he remembers the housewife who slammed the door in his face. He was young, but he was intuitive. He knew that women, particularly older women, had softer hearts and were more likely to fall victim to his big, shaky eyes that held the remnants of childlike innocence. This one was no different. She took him in, introduced him to candy, the sweetest thing in the world. All was well until she lost her necklace. She was so certain that he had stolen it and kicked him out without hesitation. Word must’ve had gotten around the town then—watch out for the Little Thief, lest we know, his awful father could be ordering him to trick us!  Contrary to rumors, Xue Yang did not have a father.

At the age of six, his fondest memory, he remembers being “it.” Five . . four . . three . . two . . one, here I come!  His short legs carried him through the town, his small fingers lifting cloths and covers to find his friends. He found the first one curled into a ball behind a rather large plant. Then together, they found the second one hiding underneath a broken table. Now with their joined forces, they searched the market for their third friend—the smallest of them all and always the best at this game.

Come out, come out, wherever you are!

There was a giggle that emitted from one of the stray pots lying to the side of the road. There!  The pot tipped over and out rolled a small girl. She caught one glimpse of the boys, then took off running. Xue Yang, never one to lose, ran after her. They took to the busier road where dogs roamed alongside their human counterparts. During the chase, a stray dog joined the fun, tailing her closer than Xue Yang could ever get.

And then the unsuspected happened: the dog jumped on her, pinning her down with its heavy weight. She screamed, her gleeful giggling turning into scared sobs when the dog licked her face, presumably out of playfulness. The townspeople did not see it like that, though, and came to her quick rescue. They kicked the dog off. It whimpered, its brow furrowed in shame, but the townspeople did not care. By this time, Xue Yang had slowed to a stop around the crowd. The dog recognized him as the one who was playfully chasing the girl and quickly trotted over to hide behind him.

It was in this moment that the girl’s mother rushed over, her face panic-stricken as she cupped her daughter’s tearful face. Who did this?  The crowd all looked to the dog cowering behind Xue Yang, but the mother misunderstood.

Insolent boy!

She slapped him across the face so hard that he fell and began crying from the pain that blossomed along his cheeks. The mother, while gentle to her own daughter, did not show any of that gentleness to him, though he was a child, dearly innocent.

Control your stray!

Later on, he discovered that the girl and her twin brothers were no longer allowed to play with him.  

It’s your fault!  Xue Yang shoved the loyal stray dog away. It whimpered and came closer once more to nudge his leg with his nose. I said leave!  He stood up abruptly, and the dog cowered in fear. It was in this precise instance that five-year-old Xue Yang felt unfairly wronged. He lost his friends because of this stupid dog, and the dog still had the audacity to follow him around.

He moved to kick the dog, but the dog, sensing danger, darted away. It never came back.

At the age of seven, Xue Yang did not trust housewives anymore. In fact, he didn’t trust women. They used their gentle nature and beautiful face to mask their monstrosity. Master tricksters, all of them. Just by whispering, they destroyed all hope and chances of him ever finding a home.

Men were tougher, more resilient to these rumors. That was what he thought when a middle-aged man sitting in front of a liquor store waved him over and asked him to deliver a letter in return for a plate of pastries. Happy to be entrusted and rewarded, he ran with the letter and presented it to the recipient. Like a good child, he waited for the man to read the letter, in the likelihood that the man would want to write a response and reward him with more sweets if he were to deliver it back to the first man.

Instead of gleefully replying, the man’s hands trembled as his eyes continued down the page. By its end, he threw the paper on the ground and stood up, knocking his chair over in the process. The man slapped him across the face with such tenacity that it rivaled the mother of the small girl, but unlike her, he did not stop there. He yanked Xue Yang up by his hair and demanded him to tell where the first man was. Xue Yang, with tears prickling the corner of his eyes, pointed in the direction of the liquor shop.

Pain seared through his scalp as the man pulled him along in the direction he had pointed. Where is that bastard?  The man threw him on the ground and kicked a chair over. He then narrowed his eyes on Xue Yang and reached out to lift him up by the collar. Xue Yang wheezed, his short legs kicking out to no avail. Everyone watched, no one interfered.

When the man figured out that Xue Yang did not know where the first man went, he threw him back down against the toppled chair. Filth. The man spat on him, then left him there to coddle his reddened cheek.

The waiter came over then, and for a moment, Xue Yang thought he was going to help him. Instead, the waiter told him to get out of the shop, that they didn’t need trouble here. Xue Yang face lit up. The pastries!  He had delivered the letter, right? So the first man must’ve left the pastries for him. He asked the waiter where they were, but the waiter didn’t listen. Get out before I throw you out!  When he didn’t do as he was told, the waiter kicked him in the stomach and lugged him out onto the middle of the street, dumping him in the midst of traffic.

It wasn’t fair. He earned those pastries. He’d been eating nothing but bad cabbages for the last few days, so he wanted the pastries, sweet and straight out of the oven. Though no matter how much he wanted them, he wasn’t stupid enough to go back to the liquor shop. The waiter was vicious.

He ran in the opposite direction, his vision blurred considerably by tears. It was because of his distorted sight that he ran into someone’s back. The man turned around and presented his familiar face, though this time, marred by cuts. Xue Yang initially felt betrayed by this man, but when he saw the blood and bruises that pepper his skin, Xue Yang understood: this man feared the second man, so that’s why he ran.

I delivered your letter!  Xue Yang told him, his expression scrunched in distress as he clung to the man’s leg. I want my pastries!   

He thought the kind, but fearful, man would pat his head and tell him okay, let’s get cleaned up and I’ll buy you another plate—but that did not happen. The man kicked him off, told him to Get lost!  He then boarded an oxcart and rode away, unperturbed by the harsh reality he had shown to an innocent child.

Xue Yang was a chaser, so he chased. He was much faster than he had been the previous year. Had he still been friends with the little girl, he would’ve caught up to her easily, but the little girl was gone now, and his new target was the oxcart. He wheeled around easily to the front, jumping up and down and waving his arms to get the man’s attention.

What came next was striking pain across his chest. It seared through him hotter than the many times he’d been slapped. He fell down, face first. It seemed like defeat at the time, but he was determined to get those pastries. So he lifted his head—just in time to see the oxcart approaching him from the corner of his eyes. Then suddenly, there was more pain. Unbearable pain. He screamed, crammed his broken hand and bloodied fingers in-between his legs, and curled into a tight ball, but the pain did not stop.  

Amidst his wails came a young lady with a baby sleeping soundly in her arms. She soothed him with kind words, brushing his dampened hair from his face. Then with soft words, she led him to her room in one of the inns and washed the blood and dirt away. You should be more careful, she chastised him, gently but firmly. It’s an unkind world out there.

That night, he slept soundly on the inn’s floor. In his dream, he saw himself playing hide-and-seek and sharing candies with the little girl and her twin brothers. Whether they ate the candies or not, he did not find out. The young lady had shaken him awake. I must leave now.  He immediately latched to her leg. Lemme go with you!  She smiled at him, then reached down to help him up. She changed the bandages around his fingers, then placed something in the palm of his hand. A custard bun!  He ate it diligently as she wandered off with her baby for what he assumed was tea.

Only, she never came back with it.

At the age of fourteen, Xue Yang did not trust men or women. In fact, he did not trust humankind at all. Not only did they put themselves first, but they always took and took without giving back. So to survive in this cruel world, he became one of them.

He found the second man who had spat on him many years ago. Capturing him was easier, now that Xue Yang was taller, larger, stronger, and faster. He hung that man up by his hair and hands, letting gravity torture him through days and nights.

Do you remember what you did to me?

Xue Yang paced around the battered figure. On previous days, the man would only grunt and spit, but tonight was different. The man lifted his head for the first time and looked Xue Yang straight in the eye. I remember, he said. Xue Yang searched the man’s expression for an ounce of regret and found none.

You don’t remember. Xue Yang laughed. Of course! How could I expect you to remember something so insignificant?   

With a smile still perched on his lips, he reached over and grabbed the man’s sword, unsheathing it to examine the dried blood on the blade. Let me guess, you don’t remember whose blood it is on this blade either. He pointed the tip at the man’s right eye. Do you think I’ll remember what I’m about to do to you?  He drew the sword down to the man’s heart, ghosting its tip along bare skin.

Put Ri Shi down.

Ri Shi? No, no. This isn’t your Ri Shi. This is my Jiangzai. It’s a prettier, more creative name, don’t you think? More so than your Ri Shi. Poor thing, having to be named after such a dark event. His smile didn’t waver as he pierced the tip of the blade into the man’s chest. I’m repurposing it. Consider this a favor. Jiangzai, the sword that calms catastrophes. Sounds heroic, doesn’t it?

He plunged the sword into through man’s heart. What’s this? It went in so cleanly. Aha, right! Because you don’t have a heart!  He yanked the blade back, allowing the blood to gush from the fresh wound. It’s a joke. You’re supposed to laugh. The man did not laugh. Rather, he wheezed through his last breaths, cursing him. When he finally passed minutes later, Xue Yang released his bound wrists, allowing the corpse to drop to the ground. He scoffed and kicked the body. Filth, he said, spitting on the man’s grimy face.

At fourteen, he didn’t need a master. He took care of himself, taught himself everything that he would ever care to know. When he practiced sword wielding, he did so with the waiter’s family. Fortunately, the waiter had three small children, each of them holding rather distinct features from their mother’s own. They were talentless, but they were small and fast and made good practice, because they were rather unpredictable.  

He pitied the family, he truly did. The mother did not deserve a dishonest husband, and the children did not deserve the scars from years of lashing. If anything, he’s almost certain in their deaths that they were happy to splashed with the blood that came from beheading the head of the family first.

At the age of fifteen, he found a new toy, and he practiced using it with a good game of hide and seek.

I’ll give you two minutes to hide. Run as far as your little legs can carry you and hide well, because if I find all of you . . . the game is over. He smirked as he closed his eyes and began counting back from 120. It took three seconds for them to make the first move, and five seconds for him to kill both assailants with his eyes still closed. He wasn’t a cheater.

He seemed to have killed the right people, since the crowd erupted with terror and footsteps took them in wild directions.

Five . . four . . three . . two . . one, here I come!

He opened his eyes to see the empty courtyard, save for the two men bleeding near his feet. No fun, he tsked as he crouched down to look at their faces. The first man was quite young and handsome—and the second man looked exactly like the first. Twins, huh? He laughed. We played this game so many times when we were children. Have you forgotten how to run and hide? It’s okay. He patted them both on the head before drawing out his amulet. We can still play. The game isn’t over until everyone’s found, right?

It worked beautifully. Eyes now darkened, the twins set out to find the rest of the family. He followed leisurely, his ears perked at the familiar sound of blood gushing and bodies falling. The amulet throbbed in his hand. More corpses, more soldiers.

Suddenly, a scream ripped through the night. He quickened his pace to see a group of corpses milling about. One . . two . . three . . fourteen. They’re still missing one. A young lady, if he wasn’t mistaken.

He smiled to himself. You’ve always been the best at hiding, haven’t you?  He paced alongside his soldiers, eyes peering into every little space that a slim woman could cower in. Lemme ask you a question, since you seem very bright—why do you think I wanted to be “it” all the time? No answer? I’ll tell you. It’s because “it” will always win. The game doesn’t end ‘til everyone’s found, and if everyone’s found, that means “it” wins by default. Don’t you see? The game has always been in my favor.

One of the twins kicked over a table, and there she was, huddled in her own warmth, not bothering to look up, because she knew the inevitable. Xue Yang clapped gleefully. Good job! You found the last survivor!  Ghastly hands plunged into her body. Oops, I spoke too soon, didn’t I? Oh, well.

He surveyed the handiwork, the blood strewn across the corridors and courtyard. Surely, news would break tomorrow morning. What a sight that would be, but unfortunately, it would not be wise for him to stick around and watch. He already had a reputation for being a troublesome thief. Oh, the look on their faces when they realize that he had moved on from stealing candies and steam buns to stealing lives—it would surely give them more to whisper about!

A few months later, he massacred the Chang clan. He made them beg for their lives, and they did. It was all music to his ears, particularly the pleads that bubbled from an elderly woman’s trembling lips. Don’t do this, don’t do this. He recognized her as the housewife who initially took him in and introduced him to candy. Once upon a time, he had clung to her leg, and now, she was clinging to his. Don’t do this, please, don’t do this. He kicked her off and into the courtyard where bloodshed was, and when she came crawling back, he slammed the door in her face.

He saved Chang Cian for last so he could enjoy the show. They sat on either ends of the table, Chang Cian tied down, a plate of pastries, presumably for the family’s dinner dessert, sitting daintily in-between them. You’re finally rewarding me for delivering that letter. It’s a little late, don’t you think? But better late than never. He bit into one of the pastries before offering it to his company.

Chang Cian did not bite.

Come now. Wouldn’t want to die on an empty stomach.

Chang Cian peered over at him, sneered, All of this for a plate of pastries.

Xue Yang scoffed. Sect leader Chang Cian, you’re being modest. Have you forgotten what happened afterwards?

As if I have the capacity to recall something so insignificant.

The tragedy of having a small brain, Xue Yang tsked. Allow me to remind you. After you boarded the oxcart, I chased after you. I was just seven, young, naive, and so very innocent, yet you hit me with the whip used for the ox. It hurt, you know? To be whipped like a disobedient animal, to be compared to such. He leaned across the table. I fell, and do you know what happened next? The oxcart rode over my small hands. Finger by finger, crushed under your weight. Fortunately, most of them survived. It was only this little one . . . He turned the pastry in his hand to reveal the nub where his pinky should be. . . . that had a bad day.

Xue Yang drew back and took another bite of the pastry.

Chang Cian was trembling. You dare compare my family to your little finger. Are you that self-centered?

It’s a small price to pay. He finished the last bite of the pastry as he walked to the other side of the table. Then, with Jiangzai, he lifted Chang Cian’s chin up. Truthfully, you’re not even worth a drop of my blood, let alone my entire finger.

Chang Cian cursed him once, twice, and on the third time, Xue Yang silenced him.

He stayed amidst the bloodbath and the ringing silence. Had he ran, he would’ve gotten away—but running was not fun if no one was there to chase him. So he waited for that chase, and on the third day, it came, disguised as a brilliant white fluttering in the wind.

Chapter Text

Xiao Xingchen has always been a fair judge of good and evil.

At a young age, two core principles were instilled in him. First, there will always be evil in the world; and second, evil spreads much faster and is far more influential than good, so he must not hesitate to eradicate any trace of it.

He was no older than twelve when he began to question these principles. Demons and ghosts were, of course, undeniably evil; but humankind was incredibly complex, and in an unforgiving world, the best they could do was adapt and overcome. The fellow disciples called him foolish and chided that this belief would be his demise. To them, there was no hesitation, no second guessing. A person was either good or evil.

Still, he was firm in his belief and later found another who reasoned with him. They took the world one stride at a time, side-by-side, and learned that truly, there was much more than the black and white they had learned. They believed in redemption and forgiveness and that humanity was innately good, if given the chance to be. He never thought he could hate someone for doing what they could to survive in this world.

At the age of eighteen, he met someone wicked.

Xue Yang, the teenager announced as their blades clashed for the first time. Have the decency to remember my name, will you?

I only remember those who leave a lasting impression.

Xue Yang quirked an eyebrow, then tilted his head in the direction of the family massacre. Xiao Xingchen, you underestimate my ability to leave not only a lasting impression, but one that cuts so deep, it’s impossible to ever forget.

You’re young. What resentment do you have towards them?

Who said anything about resentment? Xue Yang smiled. We were playing hide and seek, and I just happened to find them all.

Xiao Xingchen knew there was much more than that, but he did not ask. Their blades clashed again. Once, twice, then on the third time, Xue Yang jumped back to the opposite side of the rooftop.

Wearing all white is a bold choice for the work you do, or are you simply that confident? When Xiao Xingchen did not speak, Xue Yang continued, Allow me to be the first to stain it.

They continued to fight until Song Lan appeared. It was then that Xue Yang fled with a promise to meet again.

You went easy on him, was Song Lan's greeting.

Xiao Xingchen closed his eyes. Misjudgment.

For what felt like months thereafter, he chased Xue Yang. Each time, the delinquent would slip through his fingers. It was only at the Chang clan massacre that he finally caught up, but he knew, innately, that it’s only because Xue Yang waited for him to.

You two seem close, Xue Yang drawled as he strolled between them, his wrists bound tight. How did you meet?

Song Lan peered over to Xiao Xingchen.

Xue Yang scoffed. We’ve got a two-day trip ahead of us. I’m just making small talk to lighten the mood.

Lighten the mood? Song Lan echoed. We’re not here for your amusement.

Xue Yang’s head lulled to the side so he could look at Xiao Xingchen. Has he always been a pain in the ass? When neither answered, he rolled his eyes. Is this how the two of you travel? In absolute silence? Must be so dreadfully boring. Are you even friends?

Xiao Xingchen chose to respond, An assessment of a relationship based on verbal communication alone is poor speculation.

Relationship?  

Xiao Xingchen looked at Xue Yang. Do not misinterpret.

How did you meet? Xue Yang asked again.

After a moment of silence, Xiao Xingchen answered, On a night hunt.

Song Lan pursed his lips but said nothing.

Night hunt. Killing things together. How romantic.

This time, Song Lan spoke firmly, He said not to misinterpret.

Oh? Touchy topic, I see. Xue Yang smirked. How much does he mean to you?

Don’t answer that, Song Lan said. He’s toying with us.

It’s an innocent question. There’s no ill intent.

Again, neither of them acknowledged Xue Yang, and so they traveled the rest of the way as such. Aside from the occasional jest, they were silent.

On the night before the Discussion Conference, with Xue Yang safely tucked away in the Jin Sect’s dungeons, Xiao Xingchen stood with Song Lan under the bright moon. Song Lan asked him, What punishment will you recommend?

Xiao Xingchen did not hesitate to reply, I intend to present them with the evidence, and the appropriate punishment will be at their discretion.

Death sentence would be the most appropriate. Xue Yang has killed too many, too mercilessly to deserve redemption. Song Lan turned to him. Xingchen, he’s different from anyone we’ve ever encountered. You must not pity him. Given the opportunity, he will create chaos once more. You cannot deny that.

Where do we draw the line between who deserves forgiveness and who does not?

Song Lan frowned. You’ve seen what he’s done and what he’s capable of. Do not defend him.

It’s now Xiao Xingchen’s turn to look at Song Lan. As you said, he is different from those we’ve encountered. What has he done, in comparison to others, that is irredeemable? He is not the only one who has blood on his hands.

He does not see where he is wrong. That is the difference between a bad person and an evil one. Evil is innate and has no place in our world. It’s not what we want to believe, but Xue Yang is evidence that there are people who are beyond redemption.

Xiao Xingchen looked into the distance and said nothing more.

The next day, at the Discussion Conference, he presented the evidence against Xue Yang.

What punishment do you recommend? Sect Leader Jin asked.

Xiao Xingchen felt Song Lan’s eyes on him. I do not have a recommendation, but I ask that you give a fair and appropriate punishment.

A life sentence, then.

Nie Mingjue rose to his feet. A life sentence for the annihilation of numerous minor clans?

What do you propose then, Sect Leader Nie?

Execution.

After some time, it was decided that Xue Yang would be executed. Before he was escorted off, he stopped in front of Xiao Xingchen, and with a mischievous glint in his eye, asked, Xiao Xingchen, you wouldn’t forget me, would you?  

True to his words, Xue Yang was hard to forget. There was a small part of him that resented that he hadn’t recommended the death sentence as Song Lan had suggested, but in the end, the clans chose to execute Xue Yang regardless. He thought to leave that all behind—until he received a cry for help from Song Lan a year later.

Zichen! He grabbed Song Lan’s shaking hands and removed them from the bleeding pockets where his eyes should’ve been. What happened? Who did this? For the first time, Xiao Xingchen felt the subtle rise of panic. He looked around at the slain bodies of those Song Lan had grown up with and taught. A merciless killing, and for what purpose? Zichen! Be still! His grip tightened around his dear friend's wrists as he searched his expression for an answer.

Xue Yang . . 

Xiao Xingchen’s grip faltered. Xue Yang?

Song Lan trembled, and at first, Xiao Xingchen perceived it as fear. He was quick to learn that it was the opposite.

It was that damned Xue Yang!

They executed him.

Song Lan jerked his hands away. I know what I saw.

I am not denying that— 

They pitied him. You pitied him. Had they executed that damned Xue Yang . . had you recommended that they execute him, then this wouldn’t have happened! Song Lan lurched forward and grabbed him by the shoulders, his eye sockets now brimming with blood. Do you know what he said to me as he left me like this? He said that I should be grateful, that I should thank him for blinding me so I don’t have to see the faces of those he had killed, so I don’t have to see his face!

Unforgivable— 

How many people did he have to kill for you to understand that? Song Lan’s voice steadily rose in volume. Was the Zhu family not enough? Was the Chang clan not enough? It took the entire annihilation of Baixue Temple, my people— 

I understand that you— 

How can you understand? Song Lan’s face was wrought with such distress that it left him speechless. How can you understand anything? Song Lan repeated, voice cracking with each syllable. He never took from you, but he took everything away from me. My master, my friends, my students, my eyes . . .

Xiao Xingchen didn't notice it at first, but a stray tear had rolled down his cheek. He didn't wipe it away, though; he let it escape, let it fall. Song Lan was right. He should’ve been firmer with his recommendation. He knew the clan leaders trusted his word, knew that his judgment was held above all. Had he listened to Song Lan, this wouldn’t have happened. He had failed his dearest friend.

Song Lan released him in numb defeat. It’s better if we part ways.

What are you saying?

Amidst it all, Song Lan scoffed. I can’t even see your face. I don’t know what kind of expression you’re making. Maybe it is better like this. His eyelids closed, the blood began to dry. Leave.

Let me help you— 

You’ve helped enough! Song Lan snapped. If you truly wish to help, then give me my master, my friends, and my students back. If you can’t do that, then leave.

Xiao Xingchen fell silent, his eyes taking in the anguish that was written in every crevasse of Song Lan's face. A man so headstrong, so firm in his beliefs and his ambitions—beaten, tarnished, just like that. Lips pressed tight, he rose to his feet, and for a moment, made it seem like he was turning away to leave. Instead, he quickly jabbed Song Lan in the back of the neck and knocked him out. Then, with his dear friend in his arms, he sought his own master.

Please, he begged as he laid Song Lan in front of her. Help me. This is the only favor I ask of you.

Baoshan Sanren lifted her head, then in a gentle voice, asked, What is your request?

Allow him to see once more.

I’m afraid I cannot do that. With two slender fingers, she pulled open Song Lan's left lid. His eyes were burnt. There is nothing left to reconstruct.

Xiao Xingchen, who had never been the impulsive type, said without thought: Take mine.

Baoshan Sanren peered up at him, her expression neutral and non-judgmental. Do you understand the gravity of your offer?

Yes, he said, again, without thought. Give him my eyes. I owe him that much.

A steady string of air left her parted lips. Very well.

Two days later, Xiao Xingchen woke up to darkness and, for the first time, felt the burden of loneliness.

Chapter Text

Present day.

Xue Yang does not believe in fate, but a part of him has always known that they’d reunite. In past days, he had hoped that they would meet once more with another brilliant clash of mismatched blades—Xiao Xingchen’s sturdy frost against his fickle ash. But now that they’ve met under this strange condition, he thinks fate has a twisted and rather sadistic sense of humor, one that he can certainly entertain. Xiao Xingchen has no idea who he has saved, which allows Xue Yang the most perfect opportunity to play him like the fool he is.

At first, he is wary. It’s in his nature to trust no one, to take care of himself even in the most dire circumstance. For this reason, he keeps his guard up, despite Xiao Xingchen’s kindness. In fact, it is his kindness that is the source of his discomfort. Does Xiao Xingchen know and is simply playing the part so he can capture Xue Yang when he least expects it? It's an amusing thought, but it wouldn’t make sense. He is at his most vulnerable, being wounded like this, so if Xiao Xingchen wanted to turn him in, he would’ve done so by now. Yet the doubt, though irrational, persists.

Xiao Xingchen’s kindness does not waver over the days. He is gentle in his care, his hands fluttering over Xue Yang’s skin to clean the wounds that have reopened on several occasions. Not once does he chastise him, and not once does he pry him with questions. Respectful, Xue Yang decides, but so incredibly stupid to blindly trust—no pun intended. He looks forward to the day when the truth is revealed. Ah, the look on Xiao Xingchen’s face would be priceless!

But until then, he intends to revel in the fate that has given him the upper-hand. 

“Daozhang.”

Across the room, Xiao Xingchen raises his head.

“The bandages.”

Like an obedient dog, Xiao Xingchen makes his way over and crouches next to his straw bed. He moves to unwrap the bandages that are bound tightly around Xue Yang’s chest, but before he actually can, Xue Yang stops him.

“Your own, I mean.”

Xiao Xingchen reaches up to touch the white fabric that shields his eyes from the world. “My apologies,” he says, after realizing it’s damp with blood. “It must be unsightly.”

“Doesn’t bother me, but A-Qing . .” He pauses. “Never mind. I forgot that she was blind.” The corners of his mouth curl in amusement as he recalls pointing Jiangzai at the poor thing and nearly gutting her on the spot. If Xiao Xingchen knew, surely he wouldn’t be as kind to him. “Lemme help ya.”

Xiao Xingchen shakes his head. “No need. I wouldn’t want to frighten you.”

“I’m not easily frightened. ‘sides, how do you know if it looks scary?” His eyes narrow.

“I was unfortunate enough to witness a similar incident.”

Song Lan, his memory supplies. As he suspected, Xiao Xingchen had given his sight to his dear friend. What a selfless, stupid act. Xue Yang can only roll his eyes.

“How unfortunate indeed. At least you won’t be able to see something like that again.”

He’s certain that Xiao Xingchen would take offense to his dismissive comment, but instead, a small smile stretches across the other man’s lips and he laughs, albeit softly. “That’s true,” he says before excusing himself to change his bandages.

Xiao Xingchen is strange, Xue Yang decides. For someone who’s so respected in the cultivation world, he lets his guard down easily, which leaves him susceptible to harm, particularly when he has lost one of his senses. It’s a choice that Xue Yang cannot understand; he hasn’t been the most trustworthy character on his end. In fact, the only information he has fed Xiao Xingchen is that he’s a fellow cultivator. Had he been in Xiao Xingchen’s position, that tidbit of knowledge would’ve put him on edge, but instead of going on defense, Xiao Xingchen merely smiled and said We have much in common to Xue Yang’s absolute dismay and disgust.

Such a complacent reaction only makes him curious as to what would make the other uncomfortable.

He tries to pry it out of A-Qing.

“Little Blind, what makes Daozhang mad?” He can't say uncomfortable, because that would be far too strange.

She bristles immediately. “Why do you want to make him mad?”

“It’s a simple question. I won’t make him mad. I’m just wondering, ‘cause he doesn’t seem like the type to get mad.”

“Well, that’s because he doesn’t,” she huffs. “Why do you care, anyway? Shouldn’t you be asking what makes him happy? Why mad? That’s such a weird question!”

He is suddenly very, very close to strangling the young girl. Whereas Xiao Xingchen lacks in defense, she makes up. In a sense, they’re suited for one another.

“Then tell me, what makes him happy?”

“Why should I tell you that? Are you going to use it against him?”

“I find it offensive that you think I have ill intent.” He tilts his head. “Why don’t you trust me? I’ve been kind. I gave you candy.”

She folds her arms across her chest stubbornly. “You threw candy at me.”

“I forgot that you were blind. What? You think I was testing you? Now, why would I do that?”

“I-I don’t know! But it was mean!”

“You’re the one being mean to me. Aside from that little mistake, I haven’t done anything to you.” He leans forward and presents a piece of candy to her. “But I’ll forgive you this time. Here. Truce.”

A rather intelligent girl, she understands immediately what he means and reaches out, palm up. He drops the piece of candy in, and she quickly unwraps it and stuffs it in her mouth.

He decides not to push this time and settles on feeding her until she stomps away with the accusation that he’s using sweets to win her favor.

A few days later, he overhears her whining to Xiao Xingchen.

“Please let me go with you. Pleaseee. I don’t want to stay with that Bad Man!” Bad Man? Is that what she’s been calling him behind his back? And she has the audacity to call him mean!

“You shouldn’t over-exert yourself.” Xiao Xingchen touches the back of his head to her forehead. “You should stay here and rest. I will be back with the medicine.”

“But—”

“Don’t worry, Daozhang.” Xue Yang appears around the corner and leans against the door. “I’ll take care of Little Blind.”

A-Qing purses her lips. “I don’t want you to take care of me!”

“A-Qing,” Xiao Xingchen starts, sounding a bit more exasperated than before. “I will only be gone for a few hours.”

“Well, why can’t he go instead?”

“He is still healing. I don’t want him to over-exert himself either.” Xiao Xingchen pats her head before straightening up and looking in the direction of Xue Yang’s voice. “Please make sure she doesn’t do anything rash,” he says.

Amidst A-Qing’s protests, Xue Yang agrees. “Come back soon,” he says. “I don’t think I can deal with her for more than an hour.”

She makes a flabbergasted noise but eventually admits defeat and allows Xiao Xingchen to pass. After he leaves, she scurries back to her room. Naturally, Xue Yang follows.

“That wasn’t very nice, Little Blind.”

Her grip tightens on her stick as she brings it closer to her body. Defensive. “My name isn’t Little Blind. It’s A-Qing.”

“Little Blind, A-Qing. Same thing.”

“No, it isn’t!”

He takes a step closer. Her ears perk and immediately, she lifts the stick up and points it at him. “Stay back!”

“There you go again, thinking I’ll hurt you.” He raises both hands in surrender, but after realizing that she won’t be able to see his gesture, he lets his arms fall back to his side. “What would I gain from harming you? Don’t flatter yourself, little girl.”

He takes another step. She takes one back, eyes narrowing.

“Daozhang said you shouldn’t over-exert yourself, so why don’t you lie down?”

“As if I can relax when you’re here! Why are you here, anyway? This is my room, isn’t it? Don’t you know anything about privacy?”

He smiles to himself and takes a leisurely stroll around the small room. A-Qing’s stick follows him in each direction. Good ears, he muses as he brushes his fingers along her belongings, which are thrown carelessly into one corner.

“Wh-What are you doing? Why did you stop walking? Are you trying to scare me? It won’t work, you know! I have very sharp ears.” She draws the stick closer to her body, her grip tightening.

“Very sharp ears, you say?” Xue Yang plucks a stray candy wrapper peeking out from under her bag and scrunches it in his hand. “Wanna tell me what that was?”

A-Qing visibly tenses. “It’s a candy wrapper,” she says.

“Yes, a candy wrapper.” He moves her bag to the side, and as expected, there are more scattered about—all empty of their sweets. “Little Blind, have you been stealing from me?”

Her mouth drops open. “Of—Of course not! Those wrappers came from all the candy you gave me.”

“Is that so?” He picks up a wrapper from the ground and casually makes his way over. She takes a step back, then holds her position, her stance now firm. He continues, “You’re lying. Do you know how I know that?” He lifts the yellow wrapper up in front of her face. “I only gave you yellow candy, but this one . . is red.”

She does not bite the bait, and instead, huffs. “Maybe you forgot that you gave me a red one.”

“Out of all the flavors, I like the red one the most. Why would I give those away? Maybe if I were nice , I would, but according to you, I’m a bad man.”

A-Qing folds her arms over her chest stubbornly. “I didn’t steal.”

“Do you think Daozhang would believe that?”

“Of course, he would! He trusts me!”

“Does he now?” The candy wrapper crinkles in his palm. “Let’s wait and see.”

An hour later, the familiar footsteps of Xiao Xingchen reach their ears, and A-Qing immediately clamors to her feet. “Don’t listen to anything Bad Man says! He’s lying!”

Xue Yang tsks from the wall where he sits against. “Little Blind stole from me.”

“I did not! He’s a liar!”

“Really now? Daozhang, I only gave her yellow candy, but do you know what I found in her room?” He raises the yellow wrapper once more and crumples it so it can be heard. “A red wrapper.”

Xiao Xingchen looks in A-Qing’s direction. “A-Qing . .”

“Bad Man just forgot that he gave me a red one!” She reaches out and grabs Xiao Xingchen’s sleeve.

“The red candies are my favorite,” Xue Yang says again. “Why would I want to give away the ones I like the most?” It’s a lie. Of the candies in his possession, he doesn’t have a strict preference for whichever flavor. He did, however, only give A-Qing the yellow ones; that is not a lie.

“Are you saying you gave me your least favorite flavor?!”

Xue Yang snickers. “That’s right.”

Xiao Xingchen places a hand on A-Qing’s shoulder. “Please forgive her this time.”

“But I didn’t—”

“A-Qing.”

She huffs, then jerks away and storms off, beating her stick angrily against the ground on her way out.

Xiao Xingchen lets out a slow breath, then turns to Xue Yang. “I apologize on her behalf. I will buy candy next time I go to town. What flavor is the red one?”

“Pomegranate.” For a moment, he considers leaving it at that. Xiao Xingchen is offering to buy him candy, and he’d be foolish not to take advantage of that. But at the same time, he doesn’t want to give the impression that he’s a little brat like A-Qing. Little brats are harder to get close to and trust. This in mind, he follows with, “Don’t worry ‘bout it. She’s a child. She’ll learn her manners.”

A small smile tugs on Xiao Xingchen’s lips. “Thank you for understanding.”

“You don’t have to be so formal around me.”

“My apologies.”

Xue Yang rolls his eyes, then pushes himself off the ground so he can stroll over to where Xiao Xingchen stands. Unlike A-Qing, Xiao Xingchen does not tense, falter, nor does he take a step back. Instead, he holds his ground and allows Xue Yang to put a hand on his shoulder. “By the way, the bandages.”

On cue, Xiao Xingchen raises his hand to touch the fabric around his eyes, only to find it dry.

“My own, I mean,” Xue Yang says.

“Ah, right.” Xiao Xingchen’s hand drops back to his side. “Let’s get that changed for you.”

Later that night, while Xiao Xingchen is out washing himself by the stream, Xue Yang sees A-Qing milling about and beckons her over. “Little Blind, come here.”

“Why should I?” Her chin juts out in childish disobedience.

“I have candy.”

“I don’t want your candy.”

“Are you sure? It’s a flavor you’ve never tried before.”

She narrows her eyes in his direction before tapping her way over and sticking out her hand, palm face up. He gives her a red candy this time, and she eagerly unwraps it and shoves it in her mouth.

“It’s good. What flavor is it?”

“Pomegranate.”

She falls silent for a moment. “What flavor is the red candy?”

His grin widens. “Pomegranate.”

“You—You tricked me!”

“So what if I did? What are you gonna do, tell Daozhang? Do you really think he would believe you over me? I have no reason to lie.” Especially since he turned down Xiao Xingchen’s offer to buy him candy; he gains nothing but pure amusement from this.

A-Qing stomps her foot. “I was right! You are a bad man!” With a hefty hmph, she turns on her heel and walks away.

He pops a pomegranate candy in his mouth and watches her go. At least, with this, he has confirmed for a third and final time that she’s truly blind. That, and he has loosened Xiao Xingchen’s trust in her.

Chapter Text

In a darkened world, Xiao Xingchen chooses to see the light. Many have prodded him—why are you so trusting of others? They would never vocalize it, but he would always hear it in their tone: are you a fool? To which he would answer, Is it wrong to believe that people are good? They’re steadfast in dismissing his honesty as a cardinal weakness. He disagrees; he thinks of it as one of his greatest strengths. Not many people can wear their vulnerabilities visibly. They fear hurt, betrayal. He fears a life where he’s always having to look over his shoulder.

He resolves to give everyone the benefit of the doubt until proven otherwise. It drives a bit of tension between him and A-Qing at first. Unlike him, she doesn’t trust easily. She clings to him as an ally, a confidante, but she’s quick to dismiss the nameless man that they’d saved. She calls him “Bad Man” and reasons that it’s “just a feeling,” all while accepting every candy offering from said man. He is not denying what her gut instincts are telling her, and thereby telling him, but without evidence, he cannot indict.

The nameless man is not kind, but he is also not rude, nor has he done anything questionable. In truth, he is a difficult character for Xiao Xingchen to judge, and perhaps it’s because the nameless man does not entirely trust him, and therefore, keeps a distance. Xiao Xingchen does not mind. Once the man has fully healed, he will be on his way. He does not seek friendship in their interaction, and that seems to be an unspoken agreement between them.

But as the weeks pass, they see a slow shift.

Every time Xiao Xingchen returns from his trip to town, the nameless man greets him at the gate and helps him carry the vegetables inside. Xiao Xingchen suspects it’s because he buys him pomegranate candy but is quick to brush away the thought. It doesn’t matter why the nameless man is helping out, as long as the work gets done in the end.

This time, though, he hears the nameless man set the basket down and rustle through its contents. A few seconds later, the man scoffs. “They gave you the worst of the batch.”

“The farmer said the crops were best around this time of year.”

“And you trusted him?”

“Yes.”

The nameless man scoffs again, and Xiao Xingchen can almost see him roll his eyes.

“Next time you go to town, I’ll go with you.”

“. . Are they edible?”

“The cabbages? Sure. Anything can be made edible.” He hears a shuffle, then, “It’s not like good cabbage would’ve made a difference.”

Xiao Xingchen can’t help but softly laugh at that. It’s true. None of them are brilliant cooks, so the majority of their meals are boiled vegetables, seasoned lightly with salt, and whatever meat they can cook over a fire. If only he had helped Song Lan with food preparation back when they'd traveled together, then he’d be able to apply that knowledge here. But Song Lan had always insisted that he sit and wait. It’s only fair, he used to say. You bought the vegetables, so I cook.

The smile that sits upon his lips falters just a bit.

Song Lan . .

He can only wonder how he is doing. Surely, by now, his eyes have healed, and he’d be able to see. Likely, he’s fighting alone, and likely, he’s more than all right. Song Lan knows how to take care of himself, so Xiao Xingchen knows it’s futile to worry. Perhaps sometime in the future, if Song Lan forgives him, they’ll cross paths. Until then, Xiao Xingchen can only wait.

“Daozhang.”

He peers up.

“The water’s boiling.”

Usually, that’s as much as the nameless man does to help with meal preparation. He obtains the firewood, creates the fire, fetches the water. Chopping the vegetables, seasoning them, and tossing them into the pot are Xiao Xingchen’s tasks. Today does not differ. After cooking the cabbage long enough for them to wither, he announces that the meal is ready, and like clockwork, the nameless man and A-Qing settle into their seats around the short stone table.

“Bleh,” A-Qing makes a noise to his right. “It’s too salty.”

The nameless man challenges that notion by drinking all his soup. “Weak.”

“Am not! I just have good taste!”

Xiao Xingchen takes a sip of the soup, and agrees that it is, in fact, far too salty. “We can dilute it with more hot water.”

None of them move.

“What?” A-Qing pipes up after a moment of awkward silence. “Are you expecting us to get the water? Shouldn’t you offer to get it, since you can see?”

The nameless man shifts. “You’re the one who has a problem with the soup, aren’t you? Besides, weren’t you just lecturing me about not looking down on blind people, and now you can’t even fetch your own hot water?”

“I’ll get it,” Xiao Xingchen says.

“No! It’s fine.” A-Qing tugs on his sleeve. “I’ll get it.”

“Sit down, Little Blind. I’ll grab it.”

“Oh, so now you offer to get it? What made you change your mind, huh? What are you trying to pull?” When the nameless man does not rise to her provoking questions and instead takes his leave, she huffs. “He doesn’t help out with anything,” she grumbles. “What good is he anyway? He has eyes, but he doesn’t use them!”

“A-Qing, let’s not speak ill of him behind his back.”

“But it’s true,” she presses. “He just lies around all day and doesn’t do anything.”

“His leg is not in the best shape. I do not want to push him, especially if it delays his healing.”

“His leg seems fine. I-I mean, it sounds fine. When he walks, it sounds like even steps. He’s perfectly capable of doing every day tasks. He’s just pretending to be more hurt than he actually is so he doesn’t have to do anything!”

“What strong accusations,” the nameless man tsks, alerting them both of his return. “I’ve done my fair share. If Daozhang wants me to do more, he can just ask.” He says this as he pours the hot water into both of their bowls.

Xiao Xingchen bids him a thank you, but it’s lost to A-Qing’s rising voice: “Daozhang shouldn’t have to ask! You’re an adult, aren’t you? You’re supposed to know what to do.”

“A-Qing,” Xiao Xingchen starts, turning towards her. “Please finish your soup.” He senses her tension as she settles back down to quickly drink her soup as told. When she finishes, she nearly slams her bowl against the table before leaving the table. Xiao Xingchen lets out a sigh. “I apologize for her behavior.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not offended. Find it amusing actually.”

Xiao Xingchen shakes his head. “She should be more respectful.” He takes a moment to sip his soup, and when he finally finishes, he feels his bowl leaving his grasp. The nameless man stacks the dishes together and scoots them to the side. “You don’t have to. I can wash them,” Xiao Xingchen says.

“It’s three bowls and a pot. It’s whatever.” A pause. “Did you buy more candy?”

Xiao Xingchen smiles and reaches into his sachet to fish out a small piece of candy, which he then places in the nameless man’s open palm. “The pomegranate ones are the most popular. They were almost sold out, so I bought the rest.”

The nameless man briefly stops unwrapping the candy. “You’re really gullible, aren’t you? The shop owner was just tricking you into buying more.”

His smile does not falter. “I know.” He does not mention that he negotiated the bulk purchase. “We have a surplus now.”

“Where’s the rest?”

“They’ll stay with me.”

“Daozhang, you never struck me as the selfish type.”

“Too much candy is not good for your health.” He raises a finger. “One piece a day, after dinner.”

The nameless man draws closer. “How ‘bout a piece after each meal? Dessert.”

“One piece a day,” he repeats, “after dinner.”

He imagines the other is pouting now. “We’ll see about that,” he says with a playful hint, before standing up and grabbing the three stacked bowls. After the nameless man disappears to wash the dishes, Xiao Xingchen rises from his own seat and makes his way to A-Qing’s room, where he offers her a piece as well.

“I would like to speak to you about your behavior,” he says, sitting down at the end of her bed. “Your tone was not very respectful.”

“But I’m right, aren’t I? Daozhang saved him, cleaned his wounds, bought vegetables, and cooked for him! He’s so ungrateful, it’s frustrating!” She taps her bamboo stick angrily. “Not once have I heard him say ‘thank you’ for your kindness. Where did he learn those bad manners from? Does he think he’s above Daozhang, that he doesn’t have to thank you for all that you’ve done?”

Her words, though incriminating, hold some truth that he cannot deny. The nameless man has yet to relay a word of thanks to him, but at the same time, Xiao Xingchen is not the type to seek gratitude for doing what he is supposed to do. His only expectation is that the man heals quickly so he can be on his way; he does not ask for any more than that.

“There is a kinder way to communicate that to him.” When she doesn’t respond, he continues, “He did offer to do the dishes.”

“It’s not like he was thoughtful enough to do that in the first place. He’s only helping, ‘cause I called him useless.”

Xiao Xingchen wishes to sigh again but restrains himself, in the off chance that A-Qing misinterprets it. “You are being unfair, A-Qing. If he does not help, you will judge him. If he does help, as he did today, you will still judge him. If you perceive him as bad, then no matter what he does or say, your perception will not sway.” He reaches out to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Should I be concerned?”

She stiffens, and for a moment, she doesn’t say anything. When she does, her voice is a bit softer: “N-No . . it’s just a feeling.” She then unwraps the piece of candy he had given her. “Daozhang should still be careful. I don’t like the way he talks.”

He smiles gently. “Don't worry, A-Qing. I will not let anyone harm me, or you. You have my word.”

“Okay.” Her response is quieter than ever.

He leans over and presses a kiss against her temple. “Rest well.” After tucking her in, he leaves her room with that sigh he’s been holding back. He doesn’t know what to make of her intuition. What is she sensing that he is not? Likely, it’s due to her tendency to distrust—that, he cannot undo nor deny. For now, he supposes the best he can do is heed her warning, but not to the point of influence. Fortunately, neutrality has always been his forte.

As the night approaches and the temperature begins to steadily drop, he grabs Shuanghua and heads out.

When he returns hours later, the nameless man greets him.

“Where did ya go?” An innocent question.

“Night hunt.”

His ears perk to the sound of the man approaching him, though slowly, almost as if he’s taking a rather casual stroll.

“Without me?”

Another small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. He can’t help it; he smiles easily. “You’re welcome to join me when your leg heals.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t need my leg to hunt. They tend to flock to me.”

“That would put you in more danger.”

The nameless man snickers. “You underestimate me, Daozhang. I’m not easily defeated. Tell ya what.” He steps even closer. “Let’s make it into a friendly competition. Whoever loses has to cook dinner the next day.”

Xiao Xingchen does not falter to the challenge. “I accept your conditions. Please go lightly on the salt.”

That makes the man laugh. “Confident, are we? Just you wait. I’ll show you how good I am.”

“I look forward to it.”

A few days later, when the nameless man insists that his leg is no bother, they—along with A-Qing—visit town for the first time. Xiao Xingchen is used to people whispering about him. A blind man in striking white is an uncommon sight indeed. This time, however, they whisper about all of them. Two blinded and a crippled, they muse, how unfortunate. 

A-Qing, ever the confrontational sort, huffs loudly. “So what? Do you have anything against the blind and the wounded?”

The nameless man follows suit. “Better blind and crippled than brainless,” he drawls.

Xiao Xingchen hides his smile. It’s not something he should be amused by, even though admittedly, it is kind of funny.

They continue on, stopping by tables every so often to pick up vegetables for dinner. When they approach a man selling cabbages, the nameless man tells Xiao Xingchen to put both of his hands out, palms face up. He does as he’s told, and a moment later, feels a head of cabbage weighing him down.

“This is what he’s tryin’ to sell ya. If you just hold it, you can tell whether it’s good or bad.” As the nameless man continues to explain, Xiao Xingchen allows his fingers to gently graze the vegetable. A few seconds afterwards, the nameless man removes the cabbage and places another in his hands. “Feel the difference?”

He gives the cabbage a squeeze. True to the man’s claim, they do feel different. “This one is firmer,” he says so that A-Qing is included in the lesson. “The leaves are crisper, not as rubbery and flimsy.”

The nameless man takes the weight from him and a second later, to his left, he hears A-Qing exclaim, “You’re right! It does feel different!”

“Now you know, so this piece of shit here can’t trick you again.” The nameless man says this in the seller’s direction, almost as if he’s inviting him to argue. “We’ll take these two for the price of one, ‘cause you cheated him last time.”

“Wh-What?” the seller sputters. “He chose the cabbage himself!”

Xiao Xingchen hears something thump against the table, and then in a low, guttural voice, the nameless man says, “Don’t think I didn’t see you move the bad cabbages to the front when you saw us. Do you really wanna play this game?”

“A-All right, fine! Just take them and go!”

“That’s more like it.” He hears something akin to skin hitting leather and figures it’s just the nameless man giving the seller a nice pat on the shoulder. Before he can actually figure it out, the basket in his grasp doubles in weight. 

As they’re walking away, A-Qing stomps her foot in frustration. “How dare they take advantage of our blindness! They should try being blind for once and see how difficult it is!”

“Don’t worry, Little Blind. As long as I’m here, they wouldn’t dare.”

To Xiao Xingchen, that sounds like gratitude. Of course, A-Qing would disagree, but he’s starting to understand how the nameless man operates—not with words, and not necessarily with actions, but with camaraderie, and in his mind, that is as loud and as valued as words and actions.

They wander down the market and eventually make their final stop at a spice shop. 

“Every meal needs this,” the seller insists. “Here, taste.”

Two seconds later, the nameless man sputters and curses. Then, two seconds after that, he says, “Let Daozhang try it.”

A spoon presses against his lower lip. Xiao Xingchen opens his mouth obediently and takes in the spoonful of . . chili pepper. His face scrunches just a bit, but other than that, he doesn’t give the reaction that he suspects the nameless man wants to see.

“It has a nice kick,” he says.

“Seriously?”

“Lemme try!” A-Qing pipes up.

Xiao Xingchen turns in her direction. “It’ll be too spicy for you.”

“You’re saying it’s not spicy?” the nameless man asks, disbelief distinct in his voice.

Xiao Xingchen shakes his head. “My master believed that spice cleansed the body, so I grew accustomed to peppers.”

“You sure she wasn’t just sadistic?”

He shakes his head again, his lips quirking ever so slightly. “She just wanted the best for us. Questionable methods from time to time, but she always meant well.” He then turns to the seller. “Do you have anything milder?”

“Of course!” the seller chirps. “This one is a paste made with—”

They leave the shop nearly an hour later after chatting with the seller about their meal preparations—all of which she’s appalled by. Just salt?!  In the end, she gifted them ginger and onions, insisting that those are staple products for a hearty meal. 

Later that day, after dinner, Xiao Xingchen prepares to leave for the night once more. This time around, the nameless man stops him.

“Sneaking out?”

Caught, Xiao Xingchen turns to him and lowers his chin ever so slightly in apology. “If you come along and speak, then I will laugh, and my blade will not be steady.”

The nameless man does not budge. “I’ll be quiet.”

“I wouldn’t want you to strain your leg.”

“It’s better.”

“I can hear your mismatched footsteps. You’re not fully recovered.”

“Then I’ll just watch this time.” He strolls closer to Xiao Xingchen until they’re an arm’s length away. “I trust Daozhang would protect me.”

Seeing that he’s rather stubborn, Xiao Xingchen gives in. “Bring your weapon just in case.”

“Got it ~”

Chapter Text

There’s something striking and oddly satisfying about red tarnishing white. Perhaps, on second thought, it’s the irony of it all. White is associated with death, ghosts, yet it also represents the purified soul, the innocent and the innocuous. Red, in stark contrast, is the color of good fortune and happiness, but it is also the color of blood, of rage and revenge.

Xiao Xingchen is skilled. His sword strikes in areas that are less likely to spurt blood, thereby avoiding splatter. It’s an absolute shame in Xue Yang’s humble opinion. He likes the contrast, likes the mess. It’s for this reason that he dons all black.

As he watches Xiao Xingchen capture and slaughter the evil spirits and puppets, he can’t help but roll his eyes. The two of them are drastically different in each and every regard. Whereas he would leave the slain bodies strewn across the ground in proud display, Xiao Xingchen would line them up and rest their hands over their chests, wishing them retribution.

Despite their mismatched methods, Xue Yang can’t look away. Xiao Xingchen is graceful, his white robes fluttering in the wind as he danced among the swirling darkness. Not once does he stumble, not once does his mind stir. And when the moonlight hits his pronounced cheekbones and casts an eerie glow around his form, Xue Yang feels the gradual effect of adrenaline.

He wants to fight Xiao Xingchen.

He wants to force him into a corner, onto his knees, begging, pleading. And he wants that speckless face, so sure and righteous, to be splattered with blood. His own blood.

The world believes that Xiao Xingchen is pure, untouchable. But there’s no such thing as purity in this world, and Xue Yang is determined to prove that.

“Daozhang.”

Xiao Xingchen stills, his blade slowly returning to his side. “Yes?”

“How do you know where they are?” He’s been wondering for a while now. If Xiao Xingchen were truly blind, then night hunting would be a guessing game.

“Shuanghua can detect the energies of those with malicious intent.”

Oh? That’s fun.

“How fitting.”

Xiao Xingchen peers over in his direction. “. . . You know who I am.”

“‘Course I do. You’re renowned among cultivators. Xiao Xingchen, the righteous who trained under the great Baoshan Sanren.” As these words slip from his tongue in an almost taunting manner, he takes steady steps around the other, his eyes flickering over the slim form, sizing him up. “When we first met, you said there were some things you didn’t want to be asked about. I never mentioned it ‘cause I assumed this was one of those things.”

Xue Yang stops abruptly and silently extends Jiangzai to threaten Xiao Xingchen’s heart. He envisions sweet, sweet revenge—how his blade would pierce the kind man’s chest open, how it would carve its way into his flesh and his very soul. It would be a torturous symphony, one that would last for many days.

His eyes widen in delight as Xiao Xingchen raises Shuanghua in response and plunges it forward without hesitation.

Silence falls between them. It’s so quiet that Xue Yang can nearly hear Xiao Xingchen’s heart thundering against his chest as his grip noticeably tightens around Shuanghua’s hilt. At long last, its victim slumps and drops to the ground with a thump.

Then, there’s clapping. Slow and steady, but sound.

“Impressive,” Xue Yang says, his tone clearly enunciating his amusement. He reaches up and moves the tip of Shuanghua from the space above his shoulder to the center of his throat. The shift is relatively nonexistent; Xiao Xingchen had been incredibly precise. “Had you been a just a bit off . . you would’ve gotten me.”

Xiao Xingchen must’ve sensed danger, and immediately draws his sword back, tucking it into its holster. “You should not endanger yourself like that. It could’ve been fatal.”

“But it wasn’t.” He tilts his head, feigning innocence that Xiao Xingchen cannot see, lest be fooled into believing. “I trusted Daozhang to protect me.”

“I wasn’t referring to the corpse.”

A smile grows on Xue Yang’s lips. “I know.”

It wasn’t a test of sight. He knows Xiao Xingchen is blind without doubt; he just wanted to see how accurate Shuanghua is at detecting malicious intent. The blade had nearly missed Xue Yang’s throat as it struck the corpse that was going to attack him from behind. The important fact here is that it didn’t, not even when Xue Yang had Jiangzai pointed at the other’s heart. This means Shuanghua can only detect the malicious intent of the deceased. He toys with the idea of pure luck, but in the end, doubts he was saved by chance. The resentment that he held in that moment would greatly surpass that of any corpse.

Xue Yang retracts his blade.

“Let’s go back.”

For some time, that was the only memorable night hunt incident. In the subsequent week, he finds himself situated on any rooftop, watching Xiao Xingchen hunt alone. He minds the movements, studies the slight of hand. Unlike him, Xiao Xingchen is straightforward; the tip of his blade is his first and only greeting. It’s a clean cut. Xue Yang, in stark contrast, likes to play. He strikes in non-vital areas so his victim has hope of winning—hope that he never fails to take away.

The more he watches Xiao Xingchen, the more thrilling it becomes. He wants nothing more than to draw his blade against the other’s pale neck, pressing silver into pooling red—and what a pretty sight his fear would be. They haven’t known each other for all that long, but from simple observation, Xue Yang can see that Xiao Xingchen shows his fear differently. While others cower and tremble, Xiao Xingchen becomes motionless. He chooses not to breathe so that he can tune in to the sounds that surround him. His ears are sharper, his strike more accurate.

A formidable opponent, really.

Drawing Jiangzai, Xue Yang leaps off the rooftop, landing right in front of Xiao Xingchen, who does not react in surprise.

“After insisting to come along, you finally decide to join me on the ground?” If not for the small smile that tugs at the corners of Xiao Xingchen’s mouth, Xue Yang would’ve misinterpreted the taunt as pettiness.

“Let’s fight, Daozhang.”

The smile fades. “You’re not fully healed to spar me.”

Xue Yang swings his blade out, and Xiao Xingchen blocks it effortlessly. The sound of their blades clashing is all too familiar to Xue Yang since they’ve had many encounters before, and for a moment, he stills so he can watch Xiao Xingchen’s expression closely. Does the other recognize the familiarity of their blades clashing? Would he remember how Xue Yang fights?

“Lower your sword.”

Xue Yang does not listen and instead, draws back and swings his blade around to Xiao Xingchen’s other side. Shuanghua blocks his attack with another brilliant clash.

“Quick reflexes.”

Xiao Xingchen’s expression remains astute, unchanging. It doesn’t seem like he remembers how their blades sound. A part of Xue Yang is offended by this stale reaction—who else has fought Xiao Xingchen, and what sort of impression did they leave? Surely not a stronger one than Xue Yang himself.

“I don’t want to wound you further.”

“Confident, aren’t ya?” He presses inward, so that their faces are now inches apart, with a pair of mismatched blades separating them. He drops his voice, asks, “Or are you just afraid that I’d win?”

Most others would rise to the bait, but Xiao Xingchen doesn’t. “Lower your sword,” he says again, this time firmer.

Xue Yang weighs his options. He can, hypothetically, force Xiao Xingchen to fight him. That would very likely result in Xiao Xingchen finding out who he is, and then Xue Yang would have to kill him. Say, for instance, they don’t fight tonight. They’d continue on as so, grocery shopping trips during the day, hunts at night. How long can he fool Xiao Xingchen for, and how long does he intend to stay? It’s been around a month since Xiao Xingchen had saved him from the side of the road—what’s a week more? A month more?

It’ll be fun to see how far he can push someone who’s known for being patient.

That in mind, Xue Yang finally relinquishes control of his sword.

“You’re no fun,” he tells him.

Xiao Xingchen lowers his own. “It’s against my belief to spar someone who is already injured.”

Wait ‘til you find out who I am, then you’ll regret not fighting me while I’m in this state.

“Daozhang has a kind heart, doesn’t he?” Xue Yang folds his arms across his chest, cocks his head. “Tell ya what. Since watching you fight has gotten me all sorts of excited, let’s have a friendly competition.”

Xiao Xingchen doesn’t miss a beat. “Whoever loses has to cook dinner the next day?”

Ah, he remembers. “‘Course.” Xue Yang turns away to walk to their next location, but pauses and glances over his shoulder. “Go lightly on the salt,” he mocks.

That seems to amuse Xiao Xingchen, who tightens his grip on Shuanghua and says, “I look forward to your cooking.”

At the end of the night, Xiao Xingchen emerges victorious.

The next day, as agreed upon, Xue Yang takes over the dinner preparation. He’s accompanied by Xiao Xingchen, who seats himself on a nearby rock and asks if there’s any way he can help every so often—to which Xue Yang declines up until the taste-test.

“Daozhang.”

Xiao Xingchen lifts his head.

“Come here.”

He makes his way over, and Xue Yang presses a spoon to his lips.

“Try it with this.”

After feeding Xiao Xingchen the soup, he shoves a piece of fried fish, lightly seasoned with salt and chili pepper, into his mouth.

Xiao Xingchen falls silent after swallowing. Then, “You didn’t tell us you could cook.”

“I can’t.” Xue Yang grins. “I just have good taste.”

“What did you do differently?”

Xue Yang lifts a small bag to Xiao Xingchen’s nose. “Seasoning we bought from the hag the other day, and a bit of her chili sauce on the fish.”

“It’s delicious. I’ll have to make sure to win more often, so you’ll continue cooking for us.”

“Such high praise ~”

Xiao Xingchen extends both of his hands. “Anything I can help take to the table?”

“Depends on whether you intend to steal it all for yourself.”

That makes him laugh. “No worries. Food tastes better shared.”

Once they’ve set up the table, Xiao Xingchen goes to call A-Qing, who bounces over and plops herself down in the seat opposite of Xue Yang.

“It smells different! Is that fish? Did we fry fish?”

“Yes, there’s fish. Here.” Xiao Xingchen pokes around with his chopsticks and places one of the three pieces of fish on her plate, to which she picks up with her hands and takes a bite.

“Wahh, it’s really good! The perfect amount of crispiness! A little spicy, though.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re eating my fish.” One of the two remaining fish does not have any chili, while the other has double the amount as the one on A-Qing’s plate.

Xiao Xingchen, ever the intuitive man, quickly follows with, “My apologies. I didn’t realize there were differing levels of spice.”

“You don’t have to apologize for anything!” A-Qing takes another bite to prove her point. “I’ll just have to work up my spice tolerance so I can eat Daozhang’s delicious cooking.”

“I cooked.”

A-Qing stops chewing. “What?”

“He prepared dinner for us today.”

The fish drops from A-Qing’s hands. “You—You knew how to cook all along?!”

Xue Yang musters a nonchalant shrug. “Maybe.”

A-Qing huffs, and in the same moment, Xiao Xingchen nudges a bowl of soup in her direction. “Try this to ease the spiciness.”

Her eyes narrow in Xue Yang’s direction before she picks up the bowl and takes a sip. She ends up drinking it in its entirety before placing the bowl down—rather loudly at that—and declaring, “I-I mean, I guess it’s all right. It’s still a little salty, and it has too much pepper.”

“A-Qing . .”

“It’s fine, Daozhang.” Xue Yang reaches over and draws the plate with the half-eaten fish away from her. “If she doesn’t like it, she doesn’t have to eat.”

“Hey! Gimme back my fish! I didn’t say anything bad about that . . other than it’s spicy, but that’s because I ate the wrong fish!”

Xue Yang tugs the plate farther away. “Admit that my cooking’s delicious.”

“I said it’s okay! It’s decent!”

“Daozhang, does that sound like ‘delicious’ to you?”

“Fine, it’s delicious, okay? Now gimme back the fish, I’m hungry!”

“Now say I’m the most wonderful and nicest person you’ve ever met.”

For once, Xiao Xingchen doesn’t quell the bickering. He’s gotten used to it over the last few weeks.

“Like hell I’ll say that! Daozhang is the most wonderful and nicest person ever. You’re a long way from that . You’re not even in his league!”

“How do you know? Maybe I’m the strongest cultivator out there. Daozhang has fought me—” It slips, and for a moment, Xue Yang feels the rush kick in.

Fortunately, Xiao Xingchen doesn’t make much out of it. “We only clashed blades. We didn’t fight.” A pause. “Though he is strong.”

Saved!

Xue Yang breaks into a grin. “See? Now say it.”

A-Qing huffs. “No way.”

“Just say it.”

“Let’s eat,” Xiao Xingchen interjects. “Please.”

Xue Yang pushes her plate back in place. “Truce for now.”

In a surprising twist, Xiao Xingchen does win every night hunt competition they have for the next few weeks. It’s not because Xue Yang is significantly weaker—far from that, actually. He loses to give the impression that he is weaker, thus lowering the other’s guard. Of course, Xiao Xingchen doesn’t perceive it this way.

“I’m starting to think you’re losing on purpose to prevent me from cooking,” Xiao Xingchen tells him during dinner preparation one day. “Was it that bad? You can be honest.”

“Like I said, anything can be made edible.”

“‘Edible’ is different from ‘good.’”

Xue Yang peers over at Xiao Xingchen, who sits pitifully on the same rock, weaving a basket out of boredom. “Come here.”

There’s no delay. Xiao Xingchen immediately puts the basket to the side and rises to his feet.

Xue Yang hands him a few bags of seasoning. “You use this one if you want a lighter soup base . . this one if you want something warmer, stronger . . this one pairs best with fish and . .”

As he continues to explain what days of trial and error has taught him, Xiao Xingchen listens intently, sniffing the bags of seasonings when presented, and nodding indefinitely at all the recommendations Xue Yang’s spewing.

Trust.

Though it’s only been a couple of months, Xiao Xingchen has learned to trust his words—and that is very, very dangerous.

Chapter Text

“Why is he still here? He’s healed already, isn’t he?”

“If he wishes to stay with us, then I do not mind his company.” When A-Qing makes a disgruntled noise, Xiao Xingchen reaches over and gives her head a few pats. “A-Qing, the man has been nothing but good to us.”

He understands where she comes from. As evident in nearly ever encounter they’ve had in town, it’s hard to trust others. It has been nearly three months, however, and A-Qing is still as stiff as ever.

“Allow me to ask you this: why do you trust me?”

“It’s because you’re blind too!” She answers immediately, almost as if she’s spent time thinking about this. “You understand what it’s like to be fooled, so you wouldn’t fool others. That and . . you’re kind and honest, so I feel safe with you. But that man . . he doesn’t sound kind or honest! He threw candy at me once!”

“. . . Did you anger him?”

“Of course not! He just randomly threw it at me, like he was testing me or something . .” Her words trail off and, for a moment, she remains silent.

Xiao Xingchen’s brow creases ever so slightly. “Why would he want to test you?” And for what is the question left unasked.

“I-I don’t know, but it’s weird!” She falls quiet again, offering no more information for him to decipher.

True to her statement, it is strange that the nameless man would throw a piece of candy at her, knowing that she cannot catch it. Perhaps he was testing her ears? But surely, there are more elegant ways of testing that—though the idea of testing itself is unusual. What was the intent? Or was there even an intent? Could it be that the nameless man was being playful, as he usually is?

“Has he done anything to you since?”

A-Qing misses a beat in her answer, “No . . not really.” She sounds uncharacteristically meek, as if she’s carefully considering her words. “But he still gives me weird vibes!”

They’ve had this conversation before, and even now, she cannot present him with any evidence other than gut feeling.

Xiao Xingchen rises to his feet. “I will speak to him.”

This time, her reaction is immediate. She grabs a hold of his robes, tugging it. “It’s okay, Daozhang! You don’t have to!”

It confuses him.

“If it’s bothering you, then let me speak to him about it. He may not recognize that he’s not giving you a good impression of himself.”

Her grip tightens, and she gives another firm tug. “It’s okay. I . . I’m just wary of strangers, that’s all!”

For her sake, he settles down, but once she lulls to sleep, he ventures out to find the nameless man. It’s not hard to find him. He often lounges on the rooftops, and whenever Xiao Xingchen steps out, the nameless man would always greet him with a cheerful “Daozhang ~” Tonight, that does not differ.

“Can I speak with you?” Xiao Xingchen asks, tilting his face up in the direction the nameless man sits.

A few seconds later, he hears robes fluttering and someone landing in front of him.

“I’m not good with serious talk, y’know.”

“Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble.” He spreads one of his arms to indicate the log seats they’ve assembled weeks prior. “Let’s sit.”

After making themselves comfortable, Xiao Xingchen starts, his words delicately and slowly spoken. “You’ve been good to us—”

“Is this about Little Blind?”

Xiao Xingchen presses his lips together, then says, “Yes. How did you know?”

“Lucky guess.”

He hears the nameless man shift forward, then an amused scoff.

“There’s nothing I can do to make her feel at ease.”

Xiao Xingchen nods ever so slightly. “That is true. Do forgive her, though. Certain circumstances have shaped how she perceives others and maneuvers her way through. I’m sure she’ll come around in time. Until then, please be gentler.”

“What about you, Daozhang? Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” Xiao Xingchen answers, a gentle smile gracing his lips. “If you wanted to harm me, you would’ve done so already.”

(That’s where you’re wrong, Xue Yang thinks.)

“I am curious, though. Are you comfortable here?”

The nameless man hums. “Very much.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Your wounds have healed for the most part, and I was concerned that you may feel obligated to stay with us, since we are . .” Xiao Xingchen drifts off for a moment, then quickly regains composure. “Rest assured, we will be fine on our own, if you choose to return home.”

“Hm? Do you want me to leave?”

“Truthfully, I enjoy your company.”

“Then I’ll stay ~” There’s a hint of playfulness in the nameless man’s tone. “I can’t have you and Little Blind eating salt for every meal.”

Xiao Xingchen’s eyebrows string together, his lips parting in a defeated sigh. “My cooking was truly that awful?”

“We have time to improve it.” The nameless man snaps his fingers. “Ah, we should eat somewhere and steal their recipe.”

“Cooking isn’t only about the ingredients.”

“I know. We’ll figure it out. Don’t worry, Daozhang, I’ll take care of ya.”

He softens at the sound of that. “Then I’ll be in your care.”

In a surprising twist, they actually do sit down in a restaurant the next time they visit town.

“Little Blind, you ask.”

“Why should I ask? Why can’t you do it?”

The nameless man sniffs. “It’s ‘cause you’re the youngest. Old ladies like to pity and dot on small, helpless, blind girls.”

A-Qing makes a choked noise. “I-I’m not helpless!”

“Then ask.”

“Fine!”

When the waitress comes around again, A-Qing pipes up. “Jie jie, this soup is really good! What’s in it?”

“Ah . . that’s a secret. If we tell you, then we wouldn’t have a business.”

“Oh, okay. I was just wondering, because where I come from . . we never had anything that tasted like this. Our food is really bland, so this is the first time I’ve tasted something so delicious.” 

She sounds convincing, more-so than she ever has. 

“It’s really a shame . .” He hears her tap her spoon against the bowl sadly. “I was hoping to buy the seasonings from this town to bring home, so I could show my people that food can be tasty. Ah . . we’re so far, too, so I wouldn’t be able to bring them back any soup without it going bad.”

The waitress draws in a breath, then shuffles down between Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing.

“The secret isn’t really in the seasoning, but in the bone.” She speaks quietly, hurriedly. “The longer you cook the bones for, the stronger and heartier the flavor. What you add in addition to that only enhances the flavor. This soup here is cooked with pork bone, along with onion, garlic, and ginger. We also have our special seasoning.” A pause. “. . I’ll try to sneak you a bag.”

“We would be so grateful!” A-Qing exclaims, her happiness very clear in her tone.

The waitress hushes her. “This must stay between us, though.” She then scurries away.

The nameless man is the first to comment on A-Qing’s brilliant acting: “Not bad, Little Blind.”

A-Qing sniffs. “How’s that for ‘helpless’?”

Within a few minutes, the waitress returns with the seasoning and stuffs it in A-Qing’s hand. She thanks the lady profusely before promising to return one day with her people, so they can try the authentic and original pork bone soup.

Dinner for the next week is significantly better. Xiao Xingchen, himself, is rather impressed by his companions’ keen senses.

“Paprika,” the nameless man says.

A-Qing sniffs. “Definitely paprika.”

They stick the bag of seasoning under Xiao Xingchen’s nose. He gives a small sniff, then nods. “Agreed.”

“Then that’s the last item of their secret seasoning mix!” A-Qing chirps proudly. “Knew we could figure it out.”

“Gimme some credit. I did most of the guessing.”

“That’s ‘cause you would always smell it first! If you let me smell it first, then I would definitely get it before you!”

Xiao Xingchen puts a calming hand on A-Qing’s shoulder. “You did well.” He then turns to the nameless man. “You as well.”

For weeks, the two continue to bicker, and eventually, it comes to a point where Xiao Xingchen does not interfere. He recognizes that it’s nothing more than playful banter between the duo, and that neither are truly offended by the other’s comments. 

It makes him feel at ease. A-Qing seems to be a bit less tense around the nameless man now, as evident by her no longer muttering baseless insults under her breath. The nameless man, in a similar sense, seems to have grown on them. He occasionally peels the apples that Xiao Xingchen brings back and offers slices to them both, taking the last piece for himself.

Night hunts have gotten less competitive between them, but Xiao Xingchen does not mind. They’ve moved on from declaring final counts to small talk by the river.

“Have you always travelled alone?” Xiao Xingchen asks as he wipes the blood from Shuanghua.

“Mm . . for the most part, yeah. You?”

“Only for a brief time.” Song Lan appears in his memories once more, and he can only wonder where his dear friend had gone—and whether he has found another companion to walk alongside. “I prefer to be in the company of others.”

Song Lan had always preferred to be on his own. Even though they’d met up various times, their meetings had always been too short for Xiao Xingchen’s liking. Sometimes, they wouldn’t see each other for months, but once they reunite, it would be as if they’d never left one another’s side.

Unfortunately, this time, they may never reunite. Song Lan had made it clear that he did not want to see him anymore, and he must respect that wish. A peace of mind is the last thing he can give to his dear friend.

“Daozhang—”

The nameless man’s hand is on his. Shuanghua shakes, and it’s in this moment that Xiao Xingchen realizes the blade has pierced his left hand. He lets go.

“Here. Let me.” The nameless man takes his sword from him, and for a second, he tenses. No one has ever handled Shuanghua before. “Relax, I won’t run away with it.”

He hears the nameless man set down the blade before guiding his hand toward the water.

“Thank you,” Xiao Xingchen says as he feels gentle fingers running along his cut. It hurts, of course it hurts, but he doesn’t make a sound.

After some time, his hand is drawn out. There’s a brief pause, then the nameless man asks, “May I?”

Xiao Xingchen, for some reason unbeknownst to him, knows exactly what he is asking permission for. He nods, and the nameless man removes the bandages around his eyes to wrap them around his hand.

“Daozhang should be more careful,” he chastises. There’s another bounce of silence before he follows with a question: “Were you thinking of a past companion?”

It’s not widely known that he used to travel with Song Lan, but it’s not a secret either. The two of them were known as the distant snow and cold frost that trailed alongside the cool moon and gentle breeze. They were, though Xiao Xingchen would never admit it out loud for modesty’s sake, an enigma among the cultivators who knew of them. Their unaffiliated status was often praised instead of shunned, their words always quoted, never silenced.

He chooses not to answer the question, and the nameless man does not press.

“All clean ~”

Shuanghua’s hilt returns to his unwounded hand.

“Thank you.”

There’s silence for a moment too long, and Xiao Xingchen knows exactly why. He feels the nameless man’s gaze piercing him, feels the curiosity that filters through the air separating them. He is proven correct two seconds later when the nameless man says, “Daozhang, lemme see.”

His eyes, or lack thereof, isn’t exactly a sensitive topic, but this man had pried once before, and Xiao Xingchen had denied him then. It’s not because he thinks it’s too frightening to look at, though it is rather grotesque—but it’s because he doesn’t want pity. Unlike those born blind or those who become blind, there is emptiness behind his lids: twin gaps where eyeballs should sit. He doesn’t want to be seen as weak, foolish, or worse, damaged because of his decision. The choice was made without an ounce of regret, and it’s this choice that has come to define who he is as an individual: selfless, loyal, and just. He knows the world does not and will never see it any more than a stupid self-sacrificial act, but he’ll bite his tongue to that. Let them think what they want. As long as it feels right to him, then it’s his right choice.

(Stubborn, Baoshan Sanren used to say, Just like your sworn sister, Cangse Sanren.)

“I’m not easily scared,” the nameless man says, echoing the words he had spoken weeks prior when this same topic came up. “How bad can it be?”

Xiao Xingchen feels the shift of distance and knows that the man is now leaning in, his face just centimeters away from his own. Still, he does not falter.

“I’ve chosen to wear bandages around my eyes for a reason,” he says simply. “My eyes are different than A-Qing’s.”

“So what if it’s a lil battered up?”

“I would appreciate it if we can drop this topic.”

“Sounds like Daozhang’s hiding somethin’ from me,” the nameless says in a sing-song manner. “I’ll see it sooner or later.”

For the first time in a while, Xiao Xingchen frowns. “You’re overstepping.”

“Am I?” He leans back and lets out a short laugh. “What are you afraid of? It’s not ‘cause you think I’ll be scared off, right?”

Intuitive, Xiao Xingchen thinks. “There is nothing I am afraid of regarding this matter.”

“Then why not show me?”

“I can choose secrecy, as you have chosen yours.” 

The last part slips out without thought, and unfortunately, the nameless man latches onto it: “Ask me what you wanna know. I’ll tell ya.” There’s a bite to his words now. He can sense the urgency, the slight fluctuation in energy. This isn’t good.

Xiao Xingchen parts his lips, lets out a soft breath. “Let’s not do this.”

“Do what?” 

“Argue.”

“This is barely an argument. Have you heard me and Little Blind?”

Xiao Xingchen stands and sheaths his sword.

The nameless man follows him up. “Have I angered you?”

“No.”

“Ha, never thought I’d witness you angry.”

For some reason, that doesn’t sit well with him. Those words imply that the man is purposely pushing him to see a reaction. It’s this sort of behavior that he admittedly does not like. It’s invasive and insensitive, and he never wants to give any of them the satisfaction of seeing him bothered.

“Not angry,” he tells him, “but disappointed.”

“Disappointed?”

“That you are disrespecting my wish to drop this.”

“Sounds like anger.”

“If that is what you think, then I cannot change your mind.” He turns away. “I’m going back. Thank you for bandaging my hand.”

The nameless man catches up quickly. “I was just teasing.”

Xiao Xingchen considers giving him silence, but in the last moment, decides to respond: “Teasing or not, you overstepped.”

“My bad ~” Then, a few minutes later, “Are you still mad at me?”

“No.”

“So you were mad.”

“I was not.”

“Every time you lie, you have to give me candy.”

“I’m not lying.”

A pause.

He pulls out a piece of candy from his sachet and hands it over. The nameless man snickers. “I admire your honesty.”

A couple more minutes pass before the man asks again, “Still mad?”

“No.”

“Still disappointed?”

Xiao Xingchen does not answer and chooses to hand over another piece of candy. The nameless man unwraps it, but instead of eating it himself, he presses it against Xiao Xingchen’s lips, which he accepts without word. The other piece bumps against the man’s teeth, and for some time, they suck on the sweet in silence.

It’s only when the candy has fully melted on his tongue that the nameless man pipes up once more, “How ‘bout now?”

“No,” and when he gets a sense that the man is waiting for more, he asks with a twinge of amusement, “Are you swindling me for candy?”

“I wouldn’t call it swindling, since you’re the one deciding whether I get another piece or not.”

“My last answer was truthful.”

The nameless man gives off a soft hmph that reminds him much of A-Qing herself. “Second one shouldn’t count ‘cause I didn’t eat it.”

“But you chose to give it to me.” A smile touches his lips. “You’ll get another piece tomorrow.”

“I better.” He lightly bumps Xiao Xingchen’s shoulder. “We’re back.”

That night, Xiao Xingchen finds it a little difficult to fall asleep. He’s far from upset, but his mind continues to buzz from their recent interaction. In the end, he makes his way over to the nameless man’s room and places a piece of candy on the pillow. He leaves quietly, and a few seconds later, he hears an amused scoff and the candy wrapper crinkling. He smiles to himself and returns to bed.

Chapter Text

A few mornings later, Xue Yang is awoken by a shrill scream. Judging by the volume, it’s A-Qing.

He naturally assume the worst—that she’s getting murdered (and in a surprising twist, it’s not his blade against her throat). What he doesn’t expect to see when he makes his way over is blood on her hands and cheeks dampened by tears.

“Am I—Am I bleeding?” she asks, words trembling past her dry lips.

Xiao Xingchen, ever the savior, sweeps by him and resumes the position by her side. “What happened?” His voice is gentle, his touch courteous.

“She’s bleeding.”

A part of him expects Xiao Xingchen to turn to him and demand an explanation for what he did to her—but the question never comes. In fact, Xiao Xingchen doesn’t even look in his direction.

“Bleeding? From where? Where does it hurt?”

As he consoles the distraught girl, Xue Yang’s eyes trail down, narrowing at the drying crimson that coats her fingers. Blood on her hands, a few droplets on the floor in-between her pigeon-toed feet. Wordless, he makes his way over to her coffin bed and peers in. His nose immediately crinkles at the sight.

So that’s it.

“She’s fine,” he says dismissively, turning back to the two, though for once, his gaze lands on the shorter. “Welcome to womanhood.”

A-Qing sobers up almost instantaneously. “Wo-Womanhood? What does that mean? What’s happening to me? Am I . . am I dying?”

Xiao Xingchen, while initially slow on the uptake, appears to understand a few moments later. His worried expression eventually sinks into one of relief. “A-Qing.” He lets go of her arms and straightens up. “Go to the river and wash off.”

Her fingers tighten around the tail of her shirt, and though she looks timid, her words still retain their usual bite: “What’s happening? Tell me. It doesn’t . . it doesn’t hurt, but I’m bleed—I’m bleeding, so it should hurt, shouldn’t it?”

“Do not fret. It’s nothing to worry about,” Xiao Xingchen says after a bounce of awkward silence. “We will tell you once you return.”

She stutters in a step forward, tentative, almost as if she’s waiting for them to stop her so they can explain what’s going on. When neither of them do, she hobbles to the corner of the room to grab her bamboo stick before tapping her way out. Once she disappears and is sure out of earshot, Xue Yang turns to Xiao Xingchen.

“We?”

“I can have that conversation with her. Could you go into town and find something that is more—” His lips press together, his head turning ever so slightly to the side. It’s clear to him that Xiao Xingchen does not feel the most comfortable talking about this topic, but hell if he has to be the one explaining it to A-Qing. “—Unless you prefer that I go instead?”

“No, I’ll go.”

Xiao Xingchen looks in his direction. “Then we’ll await your return.”

Turns out, going to town on this very special quest for very special items is a lot more difficult than he’d originally anticipated.

“Out!” The shopkeeper barks. “Only women are allowed in here.”

His lips curl a bit as he steps closer to her, his eyes glowering with impatience that had built over the last half-hour. “Listen, lady. I don’t want to be here either, so the faster you give me what I want, the faster I’ll get outta here.”

She stands her ground, her fingers gripping the edge of the countertop as she tilts her cleft chin upward in a haughty manner. “What do you need then?”

“An absorbent cloth.”

“All cloths are absorbent.”

He stares at her. “Are you daft? If I wanted regular cloth, I wouldn’t have come to this store.” He draws in a deep breath through his nose and rolls his eyes. “It’s not for me.”

The shopkeeper lifts an eyebrow then, ever so gradually, her expression morphs from one of disdain to that of pure amusement. She throws her head back and laughs, her delightful sound echoing through the small wooden shop. His fingernails dig into his palms, his right fist drawing toward his waistline where a dagger sits in hiding. Before he can whip it out, though, her laughter dies off, and she looks at him with now gleaming eyes. “How many do you need?”

“Shouldn’t you know that?”

Her gaze levels with his own for a moment before she turns to her right and jerks open one of the drawers. She removes a few pieces of thicker fabric and holds them out to him. He squints at them for a moment before snatching them from her grasp.

“They’re reusable, but she must wash them thoroughly every two hours. Does she feel any pain?”

He shakes his head.

“Hm. She will. Nothing to worry about, though.” The shopkeeper offers him a small cloth bag. “When she does feel pain, tell her to take one—just one.”

His fingers close around the item. “What is it?”

“Medicine. It’ll knock her out for a few hours, so she wouldn’t have to suffer.” She thrusts her hand out, palm faced up. “That’ll be two silver pieces.”

Xue Yang exits the shop a moment later with a lighter pocket, grumbling something about women being damn expensive. Two silver pieces for some cloth and a handful of herbs? Little Blind’s not worth that much. Next time, it’ll be on her. Actually. Had she tagged along, he’s certain she would’ve swindled her way into free items. She does, after all, have the look of childhood innocence despite being an absolute brat.

But what’s done is done.

He pockets the purchases and takes a step out into the sunlight—only to be pulled back by a scoff to his immediate right. His eyes draw downward, falling upon an elderly man with a crooked mouth.

“What?”

“It’s a shame ta see such a prideless youn’ man,” the man drawls, rocking back in his seat, his eye swiveling up to look at Xue Yang. “Ask for one thin’, an’ next thin’ ya know, she’ll be askin’ ya to cook, clean, an’ look after the lil ones. Women—they think like that, y’know.”

Xue Yang stares.

“You done?”

The elderly man snorts through his laughter, then motions him off with a warning to never let a woman take away his pride as a man. He does not rise to the bait and instead, turns to leave; but right as he takes his first step, his ears perk to the man muttering something about young men these days being kept on a leash like dogs, among other crude, grotesque comments that he'd usually not care for, if not for the scoff that follows.

It happens in a blink—without warning, and without regard. He shoves his hand into the man’s mouth and grabs his tongue, his fingers tightening around the slick muscle, saliva pooling underneath his fingernails. The elderly man thrashes against him, wrinkled palms closing around Xue Yang’s wrist, cursing him with muffled words that sound less discordant and more like a pleasant symphony.

He leans in, his head tilting just a bit as he drinks in the fear that glimmers within the heathen’s eyes.

The man shakes his head violently, his eyes bulging as Xue Yang yanks the tongue out into the open air. He watches the wet muscle squirm in-between fingers, relishing at how pink it is and how red it can become. It reminds him, though briefly, of the color of A-Qing’s tongue when he fed her candy just that once.

A-Qing . . . right. He has to get back to her and Xiao Xingchen.

In the spur of a moment’s decision, he lets go, and not a second later, something wet hits the side of his face.

Mistake.

He reaches up, slowly, touches the patch of skin the spit has dampened, rubs its slick in-between his thumb and forefinger.

Mistake.

The man’s mistake.

A brilliant glint flicks out as he jams his hand back into the other’s mouth. He grabs the tongue, pulls it out dry, his grip on it now tighter than ever before. Then, with stroke of silver, the tongue loosens and becomes his. He clutches it in the palm of his hand, squeezes it 'til the blood seeps through, then holds it up so the man can see.

The man sees. He sees, and he screams.

Xue Yang immediately slaps a hand over his mouth, muffling the cries for help. “Stop squealin’ like a lil pig.”

Tears prick at the corner of the man’s eyes, but he quiets down upon command.

“I’m gonna let go now, and if you make a sound . . .”

He lifts his hand.

The man stares at him.

Then his mouth opens, and he lets out another strangled noise that is quickly silenced by Xue Yang’s hand—this time, the hand that holds the man’s tongue. He pushes the muscle back into the open cavern, pressing his palm firmly against the dry lips so there’s no escape.

Strange delight meets silent terror as his dagger trails along the flabby skin that hangs from the man’s neck. He presses the blade against the throat, resting it right on top of the protruding lump; there's no pressure, though. He holds it gingerly, leisurely almost.

The man struggles against him, shaking his head, craning his neck, feeble hands groping at Xue Yang’s wrists—anything to deter him, but Xue Yang is not easily deterred, nor is he particularly weak. He watches the struggle, saying nothing, feeling nothing. It’s only when the man begins to hyperventilate that he asks, “Can’t breathe?”

He smiles, cruelly so.

“Chew.”

His palm pushes firmer against the warm mouth.

The man shakes his head, wild, eyes remaining wide in such horror that it reminds Xue Yang much of his delinquent youth.

“Swallow it.”

His blade creases against the man’s throat, and red begins to seep more and more and more until he feels the Adam’s apple bob upward.

Immediately thereafter, Xue Yang releases him, and the man falls to his knees, sputtering, coughing, his face as red as his tongue, which now resides daintily on the dirt in front of him, as it should.

“No good?” He taunts as he crouches down in front of his victim. “Didn’t think so, seeing that all it’s ever tasted was the shit comin’ outta your mouth.”

Laughing, he rises to his feet. He looks at how the man, once so prideful, once so boastful, grovels before his own tongue. What a sight to behold.

He leaves him there after a swift kick to the stomach, whistling as he leaves town for a quieter place.

Xiao Xingchen greets him with his usual smile. “You took a while,” he says, leading him back to A-Qing’s room. “Did you have trouble?”

“Yeah.” Xue Yang eyes drop to his bloodied hand, his fingers curling inward as he recalls holding that disgusting severed tongue. “The shopkeeper lady was being hard-headed.”

He wipes the evidence—not that it mattered, since neither of his companions can see—off on the back of his robes, then reaches into his inner pocket and retrieves the purchased items.

“You explained?”

Xiao Xingchen nods. “She took it well, though now . . .”

“Now?”

“She refuses to leave her room.”

They come to a stop in front of the closed door.

“A-Qing.”

“I’m not coming out!”

Xiao Xingchen lets out a soft sigh and lifts his chin to try once more, but Xue Yang beats him to it. He raises a foot and jams it into the door. It swings open, and A-Qing jolts upward from her fetal position.

“I said leave!” 

It’s evident by the sudden bite in her demand that she knows he’s here. For a moment, his eyes narrow, but then he realizes that Xiao Xingchen would never kick a door down, so that in itself announced his distinct arrival.

“He has something that will help you.”

“Don’t want it!”

Xue Yang rolls his eyes and tosses the three pieces of cloth and the small bag of herbs at her. They hit her in the chest, warranting a loud hey! All of which he ignores and says bitterly instead, “They cost two silver pieces.”

It’s now her turn to ignore him. Her hands grapple at the items, feeling each bit of them before she holds up the bag and asks, “What’s this?” She jiggles it a bit but hears nothing.

“Medicine.”

“Medicine?” Xiao Xingchen echoes, sounding a little concerned.

“In case she feels pain.” A pause. “It’s normal.”

Beside him, Xiao Xingchen visibly relaxes. It seems as if he doesn’t know too much about women either. Xue Yang, himself, is only knowledgeable since he’s crashed with a few, and slept with a few more.

Silence sinks in while A-Qing opens the bag to give it a sniff, her nose wrinkling quickly thereafter. She doesn’t say anything, though, so he pipes up instead: “What, no thank you?”

Her head snaps up in his direction. “I didn’t ask you to buy anything.”

“A-Qing,” Xiao Xingchen begins. It's all he needs to say.

She huffs. “Fine. Thank you.” Her fingers clutch the items, her cheeks pinking. “Now, can you leave me alone?”

“Of course. We’ll call you when the meal is ready.” 

Xiao Xingchen exits the room then, and Xue Yang tails him out. Once the door is safely closed behind them, he turns to him. “What’s good for her?”

“What makes you think I know?”

Xiao Xingchen doesn’t respond, his patience endearing. 

Xue Yang rolls his eyes again. “Soup,” he says finally.

The answer brings a small smile to the taller man’s face. 

“Soup, it is then.”