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Chapter Text

Beneath the surface of the mortal realm, lurking under the waters of Shuiyuntian and the soil of Cangyan Sea and even the lush green grasses of Xishan, before time itself, something was sleeping. The oldest of the immortals did not know of it, nor would’ve the evil god Taisui or the original Xishan Goddess, or even the first Moon Supreme herself. There was no rhyme or reason to its existence, or at least, any that we would understand. Perhaps it made sense in another world—the world it originally existed in, before it was changed so irrevocably by its awakening and destruction that no record of it exists. Maybe the reason it came into existence and the power it held were perfectly in line with the gods and mortals—demons and beasts that may have lived in the lost world of the before times, a before times they never even knew had been until recently. 

But for the ones who fought against it now—the people of Cangyan Sea and Shuiyuntian—they were beginning to lose hope.

The Goddess of War, Danyin of Shuiyuntian, her power exhausted and her hair now white from the exertion. 

Changheng, no longer a god of war but still a formidable foe. He’d been slipping in and out of consciousness for weeks. He would survive, but his primordial spirit was damaged, and he’d be in danger if he didn’t attempt a tribulation soon. 

The Black Dragon, Shangque, would have to recover for years to be able to transform into his dragon form again, so diminished was his cultivation. He didn’t have years. He had no time at all. 

Jieli tried to help, but her cultivation had always been low; it was her mind that did the work for her, and she used it where she could. But what could she do against a foe so beyond her knowledge? 

Prince Xunfeng of the Moon Tribe fought alongside his brother and his sister-in-law, but he found himself feeling inadequate once more. It had been a long time since he’d been plagued with such concerns, but perhaps, if he were close to as powerful as his brother, if he’d been able to master the Hellfire or the Glazed Fire, he could make more of a difference.

It was no matter. It wouldn't be enough. 

The two most powerful immortals in the three realms, the Moon Supreme Dongfang Qingcang, and the Moon Queen and Goddess of Xishan, Xiao Lanhua, were not enough.

He’d been mastering Glazed Fire for almost eight hundred years now. It was more powerful than Hellfire could ever have dreamed of being. It did not seem to be enough. 

For her, since she’d come into her powers so many centuries ago, she had been cultivating herself with the assistance of all the knowledge previous goddesses had left behind. This was in addition to the powers she’d gained with her coronation as Queen of Cangyan Sea. How could it still not be enough? 

Every day the buildings of Shuiyuntian crashed into the deep waters below, mountains of Cangyan Sea quaked and cracked, and people didn’t just die, they vanished. There was no fight for them; just a sudden absence of existence. Armies and battles were proving mostly useless against such an unpredictable enemy; one that moved beneath the surface of their world and existed in a state that always seemed not fully in the same reality as them. It lived at the corner of their eyes, that flicker of something one sees in their peripheral vision, barely perceptible at times before it struck, and they were running out of time.

If over a millennia ago, love had saved the world, could it save it again now?

Xiao Lanhua woke up to almost complete darkness. There were just two slivers of light creating a soft glow surrounding her, and she recognized them both. It was the vivid green of her own power, and the vibrant, comforting red of Dongfang Qingcang’s Glazed Fire. She blinked owlishly, feeling groggy and fuzzy-minded, as she usually did when she had to wake up early in the morning. 

But it was very clear she was not in their bed, not bundled up in the luxurious soft comforters and pillows that she usually woke up to, nor surrounded by the warmth of the sunrise sneaking into their window at Silent Moon Palace.

He was there though. She knew it; from the presence of his Glazed Fire, but more importantly, from the warmth of his hand clasped in hers, still and stable. 

Then his fingers twitched, and he gasped, apparently suffering a much ruder awakening than she had. Xiao Lanhua felt Dongfang Qingcang squeeze her fingers tightly, his own hand shaking as he did so. 

“We’re awake.” He sounded as if the wind had been knocked out of him. “How long has it been?” 

“What do you—” Xiao Lanhua covered her free hand over her mouth and gulped, as she came into full consciousness. Everything from before they’d fallen into this peaceful slumber started returning to her; memories quickly coming into focus, the blur of sleep vanishing from her mind. The edges of her eyes stung, tears pricking at them. “Oh— oh …” 

Dongfang Qingcang put his hand behind her back and gently pushed her up to a seated position. Around them was blacker than night. It had been a cave—a cave in the mortal realm that no one could possibly find them in. That’s where it was then, and she assumed it was the same now. 

But green and red light emanating from their powers did provide enough for her to see her surroundings to a degree, and the cave looked... different. When she’d been in it before, they were in such a hurry and emotions were so high that she hadn’t had time to commit every nook and cranny of it to memory, but the way the rocks formed, the way the pinnacles from the top and the bottom were shaped, were sized, and where they were, did not at all look familiar to her. There was a trickle of water, and she looked across to see a small pond with a creek leading into it, the source coming from the wall of the cave. That had not been there before either. 

Xiao Lanhua did not know much about how caves were formed, but she knew enough to know that it didn’t happen overnight. She recalled the cave that Taisui had once been sealed in, which, as the goddess, she still went to check on occasionally. In her millennia in the role, it had not changed to any degree she found noticeable. 

How long has it been?

So her husband had noticed immediately. He had always been one to evaluate and observe quickly. He’d had to be since the moment he became Moon Supreme. 

He took a deep breath, and there was a quake to it, like a shudder. She squeezed his hand. 

“Xiao Lanhua...” he said, and his voice echoed in the emptiness of the cave. “Do you feel all right?”

She nodded. “Mm, I feel fine. I don’t feel any different than when I wake up in the morning after a night’s sleep.”

“It’s the same for me.” Silence. Only the drip-drop of the water on the stalactites and the soft whisper of the creek. Xiao Lanhua took a deep breath.

“W-we should get up.” She looked to Dongfang Qingcang, who shook his head in agreement. “I’m sure Shangque and Jieli and your brother and everyone else are all waiting for us.”

Xiao Lanhua smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She’d managed to will the tears that were trying to escape away, but Dongfang Qingcang still noticed. 

“Right, of course.” He reached up and pressed a finger to the corner of her eyes, wiping away what little remained, and he gave her a soft, barely there smile. It had been so many years, but sometimes, when he did that, it still felt as if her heart were caught in her throat, growing so large that it was trying to escape her. And the only thing she could do once it had done so was give it to him, like she had time and time again. 

She leaned forward with a slight shudder, but there was warmth in her eyes and a promise on her tongue, and she pressed a brief kiss to his lips. I’m with you, I’m with you, no matter what’s happening, I’m with you.

Where they’d lain was a bed like no other. Imbued with their power, it glowed green and red and almost thrummed with a strange energy. There were no blankets or sheets, because there was no need. This was not a normal sleep, but a spell. They would fall asleep when it was cast, and they would wake up when it was right of them to do so. They could not get cold. They could not be awoken by a nightmare. 

Only when it was safe for Cangyan Sea, for the world, for them to wake up, would they do so. 

Even after they’d stepped far away from it, the bed still glowed. If the magic was done correctly, it would never stop doing so. Around the bed, the glow continued, their power seeping into the ground as if it were molten, becoming one with the earth. 

Xiao Lanhua leaned on his shoulder as they walked away from where they’d slept for, they did not yet know how long, and he angled his head down, resting his chin on top of hers. They stepped across the creek, lifting their gowns as they did so, and there in front of them was the entrance to the small cave they slumbered in. It was indiscernible from the rest of the cave, but they knew better. 

She pressed her hand to it, and the Xilan Holy Seal activated. From the ancient rock, a carved stone door formed. She took a shaky breath, and they pushed it open together. 

Whatever they’d expected to see, it was not this. In front of them, barreling at a speed that even Shangque could not match when he was in his dragon form, was a massive mechanism. 

It rumbled and rankled, and Xiao Lanhua saw people inside it, as if a carriage had just decided to be utterly terrifying. And within moments, that beast of a mechanism was going to run into them if they didn’t— 

She let out a yelp, and Dongfang Qingcang grabbed her around the waist, transporting them away instantly. 

When they reappeared, they seemed to be on a platform of some sort. Xiao Lanhua threw her arms around his neck in relief. “Where are we?” she asked, not trying to whisper, but the shock of the event causing it to come out as such.

They both surveyed their surroundings. The platform was filled with people, but the people were… strange, not at all like the mortals of Lucheng that they were familiar with. While some people had long hair like theirs, many men and women had short hair, shorter than she’d seen on anyone but the mortal men who pledged their lives to the temples. 

Their clothes were unique. Though some wore robes and hanfu, even more wore pants and tops; ranging from ones that looked like mortal hanfu to styles they didn’t recognize at all; short sleeves with buttons going all up the front, plain shirts with strange designs on them and letters they could not read. Most of them carried bags; some hard and some soft, and in many hands were small rectangular devices that glowed as they stared at them. Perhaps cultivation was more widespread in the mortal realm now. This looked like magic. 

It was so at odds with their own appearances, for they weren’t even dressed in mortal clothing that would be appropriate for Lucheng. Dongfang Qingcang wore his normal rich dark robes, a crown of bark and buds upon his head, and Xiao Lanhua wore a light pink dress of the Moon Tribe, with the golden, flower filigree crown that designated her as the goddess of Xishan. They did get a few strange, bewildered looks. They did not just look out of place, but they had appeared out of nowhere. 

However, one glare in return from Dongfang Qingcang was enough to make them regret that. One of them even ran. It almost made Xiao Lanhua want to laugh. 

Behind them was one of the strange mechanisms that had nearly run them over earlier, and it was stopped. So it was a mode of transportation. The doors opened, and people exited and entered them. Above said doors was a glowing red sign that they could read: 

Lingkong Road Station

Was this the destination of the mechanism? 

Above the mechanism was black text that read: East Huaxia Road .

And was this where they were now? But where was East Huaxia Road in the first place? They’d spent plenty of time in the mortal realm, but the name did not sound familiar at all. 

Nothing was familiar, really. 

Dongfang Qingcang finally broke the silence, “I don’t think we are going to find anyone we know here, Xiao Lanhua.” 

What they found above ground was even stranger; bright lights and much smaller versions of the giant forms of transport that they’d been almost run over by before. It was night, and the streets were filled with more of the same people that they’d seen before, with their unusual clothing and glowing devices. Much of the architecture looked familiar in shape, but it was made of different materials—steel and glass and things they didn’t recognize. Nestled between some of these larger buildings were smaller ones that looked more familiar to them, but the strange ones dominated the landscape. 

Xiao Lanhua held tight to Dongfang Qingcang’s hand. He did the same in return. They slipped into an alley between a building that looked like the type of home they were familiar with in Lucheng and a glass behemoth that must have been as tall as Silent Moon Palace. 

“We should get back to Cangyan Sea,” he said, his breaths coming quickly. He sounded as if he were winded. 

She merely nodded and made a sound of acknowledgement. 

He held out his other hand in front of him, and she took it as well. They both summoned power from their dantians and pictured their destination in mind: Silent Moon Palace. 

Nothing happened.

They tried again.

The alley remained. Dongfang Qingcang’s eyebrows creased in bewilderment, and Xiao Lanhua frowned. 

“Damutou…” 

“Perhaps it’s all the magic in the air,” he reasoned.

“Mm, it could be throwing things off. Let’s try somewhere closer.” 

He nodded. “Memory Loss River then.” 

They tried again. 

Nothing. 

Again.

The lights, the buildings, and the loud noises of the strange mechanisms that lined the streets were there, but no Memory Loss River.

Xiao Lanhua’s face went white, and Dongfang Qingcang pulled one hand away from hers and clenched his fist by his side. His expression was grim. 

“We need to find someone to ask!” Xiao Lanhua almost shouted, panicking. 

“What should we say?” He snapped in response and immediately regretted it when he saw her frown deepen. “Just ask a mortal if they know the way to Cangyan Sea?”

Xiao Lanhua bit her lip and sighed. “You’ve noticed how much more advanced the cultivation is here, right?” 

He nodded. “How could I not? It appears that almost everyone is capable of it now.” 

“Right,” she continued, “so even if they can’t tell us how to get to Cangyan Sea, they might be able to give us some information that could help.” 

Dongfang Qingcang exhaled deeply and crossed his arms. “You may be correct.” 

They left the alley together and surveyed their surroundings again. Xiao Lanhua spotted a man sitting on a bench by himself looking at one of those glowing devices. “Let’s go talk to him. He doesn’t look busy.”

“All right.”

“And no matter what happens, don’t threaten him!” She gave her husband a gentle nudge. He furrowed his brows.

“You tell me that every time we go to Lucheng, and when was the last time I did it?” 

She smiled at him and squeezed his hand. “I know, I know. You’ve grown so much, Damutou.” 

He had the decency to look only a little offended. 

The man on the bench started at Xiao Lanhua’s voice, and she gave him a sweet smile. Dongfang Qingcang did not smile. 

He glanced at them quizzically. “Yes?” he answered in reply to her ‘excuse me, sir.” 

The man was wearing a baggy shirt with a design that they did not recognize—a line that tipped upward and became thinner at the top, thicker at the bottom, and curved from there. There was text below the design in a language she could not read. Perhaps the emblem of another kingdom? 

He stared at them strangely, and ah yes, they were still in their Moon Tribe clothing, weren’t they? Even in the Lucheng they knew, it was unusual. 

“Do you mind answering a few questions?” she continued, doing her best at perky and kind, despite the fact that her whole body was a taut bundle of nerves. 

The device in his hand made a sound, and he looked down at it, but Dongfang Qingcang interrupted his action. 

“This venerable one will not take much of your time,” he said. “We just wanted to ask you some questions about the cultivation in the area. It seems to be at a very high level.” 

The man wrinkled his nose and scratched his cheek, then stared at them dead-on, confusion evident in his expression. 

“Wow, I thought you two were just cosplayers, but...” he laughed, “are you filming a drama?” 

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Xiao Lanhua smiled. “We noticed that everyone around here seems to have the ability to do magic.” She gestured at the device in his hand. “That’s unusual where we are from, so we wanted to ask about it.” 

He held up the object in his hand and laughed. “You mean my cell phone? Okay, is this for a variety show?”

“A what?” Dongfang Qingcang asked. 

“A variety show? Like, is this a prank?” he explained.  “I don’t really want to be on TV, man. My friends will never stop teasing me about it.” 

“I am growing annoyed with you,” Dongfang Qingcang said, and one could hear the edge of a knife in his words. Xiao Lanhua grasped his arm and glanced up at him, shaking her head. He sighed. “If you do not have answers, do you perhaps know someone who may?”

“I legitimately have no idea what you two are asking me for, sorry dude.” 

Dongfang Qingcang’s frown grew deeper, and Xiao Lanhua tugged his hand and mouthed ‘let’s go’. He nodded in agreement, and she turned back to the man on the bench. 

“Oh well, thank you so much for your help!” She gave him a smile and waved as they left before he could respond. 

Once they were far enough away, Dongfang Qingcang broke the silence. “I wasn’t going to do anything.”

“I know you weren’t, but we weren’t getting anywhere.”

“He was mocking us.”

She rubbed her forehead and pressed a gentle touch to his shoulder. “I don’t think he was. I really think he had no idea what we were talking about.” 

“Hmph.”

She smiled, just a bit, and shook her head. “We should change clothes. I don’t think it helped much that we looked so out of place.” She pulled him back into the alley they’d been standing in before. 

“All right,” he agreed. “How is this?” Within a moment, he had transformed his elaborate robes into something that matched what the men around them wore. He had a black shirt, done in the style that the man they’d just spoken to was wearing, and he wore a pair of blue pants. 

They were, um, tight. Xiao Lanhua let out a snort of a laugh. "Damutou, why are your pants so tight?” 

He looked down and turned around, giving Xiao Lanhua a very good look at the way his... assets were accentuated by the garment. “I just copied them from the man we spoke to. Now that you mention it, perhaps they are a bit—”

Xiao Lanhua grinned, and there was an edge to it that wasn’t entirely appropriate for being in public. “I like them.” 

He did not change his pants.

She transformed into a beautiful green top that echoed a fitted hanfu with a crossed collar and frog clasps and a pair of relaxed, khaki slacks. 

Their clothes were an illusion. If they were going to be here longer than a night, they’d have to actually purchase some. 

At this point, there was little else they could do that evening. The sky had grown dark, and they were both feeling, if not physically exhausted, emotionally so, as well as overstimulated. There was so much noise; so many lights and people. Only on festival days in Cangyan Sea did their home surpass the hustle and bustle that surrounded them on what appeared to be a normal night in this strange version of Lucheng. 

They’d found an inn, one that looked similar to architecture they were familiar with, and booked a room to stay the night. 

It had been... an ordeal. They’d had the foresight to have a small pouch filled with currency from Lucheng with them, but the little paper bills and the plastic cards that people were using now to pay for their stays at the inn did not bear any resemblance to the silver, brass, and gold coinage they carried. The woman working at the inn had given them a strange look, and Xiao Lanhua had resorted to begging. 

In desperation, she’d run to the bathroom and come back with the hairpin she had been wearing with her goddess headdress. It was jewel-encrusted, pure gold. It was worth a fortune. 

“Well, these coins might have been worth something if they were old enough, but they look so new that I’m pretty sure they’re forgeries. Hold on, let me go grab my manager.” 

Dongfang Qingcang turned to Xiao Lanhua, arms crossed and a frown on his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but she interrupted him.

“We’re not going to scare them into giving us a room.” 

“I wasn’t going to—”

She pressed a finger to his lips and gave him a fond smile. “Damutou…” 

The woman came back with her manager by her side. He was holding one of those glowing objects in his hand, and he looked thoughtful.

“Everything I’m seeing online says these match up to authentic ancient coinage, but they seem impossibly well preserved.” 

It's not as if they could explain that they’d been frozen in time and that nothing on them or in them had deteriorated—clothes, bodies, or coins. 

“What about the hairpin?” Dongfang Qingcang asked. “It’s worth far more than a night at an inn.” 

“I looked into that too,” the manager said. “It seems real.”

“Of course it’s real,” he scoffed. 

The other man shrugged. “Okay. My family owns this hotel, and I’m sure they won’t mind. We’ll take the hairpin for a night here. You can keep the coins.”

“Wait—” Xiao Lanhua said. “That’s very kind of you, but as my husband said, the hairpin is worth far more than a night at an inn. Could you also exchange it for some currency we could use elsewhere?” 

Dongfang Qingcang turned to her, his lips quirking up in a half smile. “Indeed. This seems fair to me.” 

The manager tapped his chin in thought for a few moments, then nodded. “I don’t see why not. Let me do some math and see how much I can give you for it.” 

They both breathed sighs of relief.

Within a few minutes, the exchange had been completed, and Xiao Lanhua and Dongfang Qingcang were escorted to the room they’d be staying in for the night.  

“I’m okay now, but I’m going to be so hungry in the morning,” Xiao Lanhua said as she scooted back on the bed. Dongfang Qingcang sat next to her and winced.

“This bed is very hard.” 

Xiao Lanhua laughed and leaned against him. “It’s not that bad. You’re just used to having the most comfortable bed in the three realms.” 

He shook his head, then tapped his finger to her nose. “And I shall settle for no less, nor should you.” 

She smiled into his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer to his side. “I missed you,” she finally said. 

“How so? We were never apart.” 

Xiao Lanhua shook her head. “It didn’t feel like it, but when I think about how long it must have been, and I have no idea how long it’s been, just that I know it’s been a long time, my mind goes, ‘all of that time I could have spent with Daqiang; laughing and smiling with you and helping you run Cangyan Sea while you help me out with Xishan.” She fiddled her fingers together and tapped her feet to the ground. “Making flower cakes and spending the days we can in Lucheng... and spending the nights together...” she trailed off. “All of that and so much more. But instead we just... slept.” 

“Xiao Lanhua,” he replied, “we will make up for all the time we lost in the future. We will do all of those things once more, and everything will be just as it was.”

Dongfang Qingcang tried to give her a reassuring smile, but it wavered. 

“Will it really be ‘as it was’?” she asked, but she knew the answer. She felt her heart thump, as if it were a rabbit, and tears pooled at the corner of her eyes. 

“No,” he finally said, and there was ever so slightly a crack in his voice. “I—I don’t know what it will be like, but it won’t be the same. This Yunmeng Lake bears almost no resemblance to the one we left behind.” 

Xiao Lanhua let out a quake of a sigh, and she pressed closer, if possible, to Dongfang Qingcang. “And the people…” 

He shuddered. “Yes.”

Neither of them spoke. Neither wanted to say what was on their mind. They were immortals, yes, but even immortals did not live forever. Surely those they cared about would still be around, but if so much time had passed, how different would they be? Would they still be young like they were? Would some of them, perhaps, have passed on? Shangque, Jieli, Xunfeng, Changheng, Danyin...

Who would be there to greet them when they returned? 

“I spent so much of my life alone,” Xiao Lanhua began, “and so did you, though in a different sense. I was physically alone, and you were well…” She shook her head. “You suffered so much.” He squeezed her hand. “But then I met you, and not only you; I made so many friends and even gained a family. And now I’m used to that…” 

“You will never be alone again,” Dongfang Qingcang said firmly. “There is nothing in the world that could keep me from you. Not ever again.” He pulled away just enough to turn her cheek to face him. His eyes were bright and full of conviction, and his stare was intense, almost piercing. 

Xiao Lanhua gave him a soft, slight smile and pressed her hand to his cheek. “Dongfang Qingcang,” she said, “I hope you know how much I love you.”

He froze for a moment, then turned his head slightly to press a kiss to the hand that was upon his cheek. “Xiaohuayao, the only thing in the three realms I’m as certain of, is how much I love you in return.” 

Her slight smile brightened into a grin, and she sniffled, wiping away the tears that had fallen. “My Daqiang has gotten so good at being romantic.” 

“I’ve had many years of practice now.” He leaned forward until their faces were almost touching. “And a very patient Queen.” 

Xiao Lanhua shook her head slightly, giving in, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling her body to his the rest of the way and pressing a deep, lingering kiss to his lips. He returned in fervor, his hair falling forward like a curtain. She pushed some of it away, bunching up the soft strands at the nape of his neck as she clung to him tightly, deepening the kiss as she did so.

His tongue flickered into her mouth, and oh, how she remembered how hesitant he’d been at first to do simple things like that, how he was happy to kiss her, but she had to initiate going further with it. 

He had been so cautious about everything at first. It wasn’t as if she had experience, but she had knowledge as well as the fact that she’d actually thought about doing these things before. He’d never done so, until her. 

For Dongfang Qingcang, the idea of holding someone else in his arms, the idea of being loved and cherished and doing so in return—that alone was beyond his understanding. 

Sex? Making out? That was a whole other realm. 

He’d been built for war; body, soul, and mind. It had been centuries, and sometimes she still felt as if her heart were going to crack open; so strong was the ache when she thought about it too much. He’d never deserved that. 

Sometimes she thought about a world in which he’d never had his heart stolen from him, a world where he’d been able to grow up into adulthood and be the Moon Supreme his childhood self had wanted to be from the beginning. In that world, maybe she wouldn’t have existed in his life. Perhaps he’d have found someone else even by the time her life as the goddess Xiyun began, over thirty thousand years before they met. But at least he wouldn’t have suffered.

Xiao Lanhua knew what he’d say if presented with this; he’d say he’d rather be where he was, that he’d rather have suffered the way he did and lived all those years void of love, if it meant meeting her eventually. And he’d mean it. 

Sometimes she thought that he was so full of love that the Glazed Fire was a manifestation of his inability to keep it inside, as if it were bursting out of his body, out of his pores, because there was simply too much to be contained within him; not just his love for her, but love for his kingdom, his people. 

She loved him so, so much; adored him, and she knew that regardless of what they discovered when they finally reached Cangyan Sea… she’d be okay, because he’d be there beside her. 

Xiao Lanhua wrapped her legs around his center and took a moment to breathe before returning to the kiss. They kissed, and they kissed, and they both knew they were teetering over the edge. 

Dongfang Qingcang let out a brief moan and pushed her down on the bed, marveling at the red of her cheeks and the way her pretty brown hair splayed behind her. The green top she’d changed her dress into was lower cut than what she usually wore, and her chest rose and fell in a manner in which he couldn’t tear his eyes away from. Her nipples were pert beneath the thin, breezy shirt. 

And it wasn’t just her shirt; he knew his pants were… far from his normal attire as well. He’d caught Xiao Lanhua staring at them multiple times, and perhaps, maybe he was just a little bit vain and liked it when his wife visibly found him attractive. The pants, in his opinion, were impractical, but if she liked them, they could stay.

He was reminded of this when he caught her gaze shifting toward his bottom half again. Her eyes were blown wide, and she pressed her lips together, wetting them. 

The tight pants made what she was staring at even more obvious, although, of course, it’s not as if he couldn’t feel himself straining against the fabric between his legs. 

“Damutou…” she said, and her voice was husky. “I know you hate this bed, but I have an idea for how we could make it a lot better…”

She reached up and held his face between her hands, and her eyes were lidded, coaxing him. She had a lazy smile on her face, and her cheeks were flushed high. 

His goddess, his Moon Queen. She was so lovely. Once upon a time he’d told her she was at her most beautiful in a wedding gown, but this was beyond compare. When he’d said that, he hadn’t thought to imagine a moment like this.

But now he’d had so many moments like this, and every single time, it took his breath away. In one hundred thousand years, he thought, it would still be the same. 

Poets of the Moon Tribe and Shuiyuntian both had written verses upon verses about the goddess of Xishan, the Moon Queen, over time. But although they tried, in his eyes, their attempts were foolish. They could never understand the way life itself glittered in her eyes, the way she glowed not just with her power but with love, the way her lips formed a special smile when they said his name, and the way that she looked at him, as if he hung the stars. She was more beautiful than any of their words could possibly capture. 

Even if she wasn’t a goddess, even if she really were just a little orchid flower with a damaged immortal root, she would have been no less worthy of the songs of the bards and the verses of the poets that were written about her. 

Xiao Lanhua was his lost and returned. He was hers.

“I think you are onto something,” Dongfang Qingcang responded. His hair fell forward again, as if it were a curtain, giving them privacy that they did not need. “That said, it is, I believe, against the laws of Cangyan Sea for the Moon Queen to not be served and cared for at all times, especially when she is sad.”

She stifled a giggle at that. “We’re not in Cangyan Sea; does that still apply?” 

“I abide by the laws of my kingdom wherever I am,” he answered, then leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. He could feel her eyelids flutter against his skin, and he shuddered. “Let me take care of you tonight.” His erection was pressed against her front, and it ached as it strained against the too tight pants. 

He felt her hot breath against his neck, and he gulped. She nodded. “Yes… please.” 

Xiao Lanhua yawned and sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and almost instantly collapsing against Dongfang Qingcang’s shoulder. “What are you doing?” she mumbled. 

He was concentrating hard, staring forward with a furrow in his brow and a purse to his lips. 

“I’m watching this play.” 

She turned to where he was looking. At the end of the bed, several feet away, the black object she’d ignored the night before was glowing bright with moving images. 

“We saw some of these outside, but I was too distracted to think much of them,” he explained. “These aren’t tiny people. They’re some kind of projection. It’s fascinating.” 

She squinted at the screen. The people on it were clearly acting out a story, so it made sense he’d said play. She couldn’t comprehend how it was done. Mortal cultivation was incredible now.

“This is amazing.”

He nodded. “And watch.” He held up a black rectangular object. “If I push this button, it turns into another play.” He did so, and the story on screen changed. This time the actors were in clothing she was familiar with, like what may have been worn in Lucheng back... before everything. “There are at least a hundred of these.” 

“This all seems impossible,” she replied with a slight frown. “Did you sleep okay?” 

“I think so.”

Xiao Lanhua giggled and pressed a kiss to his temple. “I guess I managed to wear you out well enough.” His lips quirked up in a half smile in response. 

“You slept in so much that I already went downstairs and got some information,” Dongfang Qingcang said. She did not look ashamed, nor did she ever. His little flower demon may have been a goddess now, but she was still the same Xiao Lanhua. She was, to her credit, better at getting up early than she used to be. Her immortal root no longer being damaged legitimately did help her retain energy. But if it were up to her? She’d sleep until noon if she could. 

It was not noon, but it was far past dawn. And it was a good thing she had woken up, because he’d discovered upon investigating that this inn had complimentary breakfast, and he would hate for her to have missed it. She would certainly pout. 

“What did you find out?”

He rubbed his forehead. “As is becoming a pattern, she clearly thought that I was insane.” 

“But?”

“She gave me information on how to get to a Daoist temple on the edge of the city.” He shrugged. “It’s called ‘Shanghai’ by the way.”

“The city? It’s not Lucheng?” He shook his head in the negative. “All right, so let’s go to the temple. There will be cultivators there, and I’m sure they can give us some information.”

“I hope.”

On the screen in front of them, the play they were watching appeared to be at an intermission. In the meantime, there were two people on the screen trying to sell what looked to be the same small glowing objects they’d seen everyone carrying the evening before.

“One more thing.” He pulled away from her hold and rolled off the bed, picking up a paper bag that he’d sat on the bedside table. “I got us clothing of the non-illusionary variety.” 

He reached in the bag and handed Xiao Lanhua a pair of pants that resembled the light-colored ones she’d transformed into the night before, as well as a short sleeved green shirt with red poppies on it that tied closed. 

She smiled. “I like it. Thank you.” 

Xiao Lanhua appreciated the food, and to be honest, so did he. As midmorning hit the city of Shanghai, they headed out into it, armed with directions from the woman who had checked them out at the inn. She’d given them a strange look when they’d asked for walking directions, but neither of them were in the mood to brave figuring out how to be transported in those enormous, loud, mechanisms. They’d stick to dragons, thank you very much. 

Much like her outfit was similar to what they’d given themselves via illusion magic the evening before, so was Dongfang Qingcang’s. Xiao Lanhua was a bit delighted that his new pants, black this time, were just as tight. Perhaps he’d noticed the way she’d appreciated him.

Like before, he had a black shirt with short sleeves, but this time there was a design on the front. It was... cute—a little white cat, drawn to be standing up like a human, with a red bow in its hair. 

Xiao Lanhua grinned when she saw it. Perhaps he’d been too focused on the color and style to concern himself with the design. She loved it. 

There weren’t many people who, like her, understood how cute the Moon Supreme could be. Maybe this would help on that front. 

The two fell into comfortable conversation as they journeyed to the temple, and for a while, they felt light. Xiao Lanhua pointed out plants that they saw scattered throughout the city, and he listened attentively, as he always did. Their surroundings were as strange as ever, but they were starting to recognize things they’d seen before, so the newness and shock were beginning to wear off. At one point, Xiao Lanhua had spotted a counter selling baozi and bamboo kebab, and her eyes widened as she stared. He knew that look.

Dongfang Qingcang handed over some of the money they’d gotten from the inn and asked for two of each, which they ate and shared. They still had plenty of money left. He had no idea if he’d gotten a good deal when they’d traded the hairpin for a night’s stay and some of Shanghai’s currency, but it was no matter. What they had was sufficient for the moment.

The walk was long enough that both of them were sore-footed by the end of it. It must have been two shichen before they arrived at the temple, upon which they were greeted with a massive flight of stairs. He heard Xiao Lanhua grumble under her breath about it, and he let out a quiet laugh. 

“No magic,” he repeated the rule she was always so insistent on when they were in the mortal world. She pouted and took his hand, swinging it between them. 

The temple was large, beautiful, and well-kept, with a rich green lake winding between the buildings. Small crowds wandered around, and there were a few monks about the grounds, some attending to their own duties and some assisting visitors. The monk that Dongfang Qingcang and Xiao Lanhua approached was quite old, but his eyes shone with intelligence behind his thin, wire framed spectacles. Thin, sparse white hair peeked out from beneath the blue cap he wore, and he glanced up at the pair with a smile. “May I help you?” 

“May we speak to you in private?” Dongfang Qingcang asked. The monk raised his brows in surprise but then nodded his head. 

“Do I know you?”

“You don’t, but what we have to discuss is nonetheless important.” 

He shrugged. “All right. Come into the West Hall with me. These old bones want to sit.” 

The pair followed him into a lushly lacquered hall. On each side of the door, a couplet.

To do good or to do evil, that is all up to you in the world of the living;

From the past to the present, no one escapes the judgment of death.

The hall was relaxingly familiar. The gold statues, the tapestries, the wood floors; everything reminded them of what Lucheng temples had looked like so long ago. It wasn’t exactly the same, but the familiarity put them at ease. The old monk sat down cross-legged, and they did the same across from him.

“It’s clear from the urgency in your voice that you truly need assistance, but I admit my bewilderment as to what a young couple such as you would need a monk like me with such immediacy for.” 

“We have some questions about the cultivation in the area,” Xiao Lanhua began, repeating what they’d said to the young man on the bench the night before. “It’s really advanced. We haven’t seen mo—magic like this from regular people before we came to Shanghai.” 

The monk squinted and cocked his head at her, just a bit. “My dear, what are you talking about?” 

Dongfang Qingcang and Xiao Lanhua went quiet for a moment, then turned to glance at each other. The monk watched as their eyes met, and they appeared to be trying to communicate what to do next. 

“Is it not cultivation?” Xiao Lanhua finally asked. “The glowing objects you carry? The mechanisms that transport people and move without horses?” 

The old man chuckled. “I’m beginning to believe I am being pranked.”

“It’s not a joke,” Dongfang Qingcang cut in. “We are not from here or anywhere near here. We came here for information we could not find elsewhere. If you can’t assist us, we will not waste your time further.” 

He sighed and shook his head, then smiled. “Humans have not been able to do magic for longer than this temple has records. We still cultivate, to improve ourselves, to live in harmony with the Tao, but there is no power we gain from it. What you’re discussing is merely modern technology.” 

“Humans cannot cultivate?” Xiao Lanhua covered her mouth in surprise. “How did it happen?”

“It was so long ago that only fragmented legends exist, and there are so many versions of the stories I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Tell us the main one.” Dongfang Qingcang rested his chin on his hand.

“It must have been... hundreds of thousands of years ago,” he began. “It’s impossible to say. Back then, there were cultivation sects all across China. They were skilled, and the most powerful of the cultivators could go toe to toe with gods.”

Xiao Lanhua gasped and reached for Dongfang Qingcang’s hand, trembling as she did so. His eyes had grown wide as well. Last time they’d been in Lucheng, cultivation was alive and well. 

“The mortal and immortal realms still rarely interacted, but it was not unheard of,” he continued. “But one day... something awoke.  An ancient power beyond anything the immortals had faced before. It wiped out whole villages in an instant. Nothing was left behind. There were no bodies, no shadows or bones, or even echoes of their existence in the form of spirits and ghosts. Or at least that’s what they say...”

“It had no name, because what could you even call it?” Dongfang Qingcang cut in, and his voice was measured but softer than usual. “A being that came in as if it were nothing and left nothing behind.”

“It wasn’t made of resentment, hatred, or evil,” Xiao Lanhua continued, and her voice trembled as she did so, as if she were stopping herself from choking up. “That was ascribing more to it than it existed for. It was like the thing you see out of the corner of your eye, and when you look, nothing is there.” 

“A lack of existence, that if it did have desires, only wanted everything else to lack existence as well,” Dongfang Qingcang finished. He stared straight at the monk, his eyes bright and his gaze firm. “Am I correct?”

“So you already know the story?” 

“It had some aspects that sounded familiar, but we’d still like to hear the rest,” Dongfang Qingcang replied. 

The monk gave him a strange look but kept going. “The most powerful mortal cultivators were helpless against it, as were all but the strongest immortals. The fairies and the demons were forced to join hands to conquer it, and in the end...

“You mean the Moon Tribe?” Xiao Lanhua cut in. “Not the demons, the Moon Tribe.”

“Young lady, perhaps you’ve heard another version of the story? I’ve never heard the demon tribe called the Moon Tribe.”

Dongfang Qingcang wrinkled his nose so slightly that only Xiao Lanhua fully registered his expression of disdain. “The audacity.” 

“The queen of the fairy tribe and the king of the demon tribe proposed a union of marriage to boost their power, but it—”

“Most certainly not,” Dongfang Qingcang said, and Xiao Lanhua gently elbowed him. He cleared his throat. “I mean, are you sure she was queen of the fairies?” 

The old monk shrugged. “This is an ancient story, young man. I do not know.” He sighed. “Even their combined power was not enough, so they made a decision…”

At this, Xiao Lanhua stiffened, and next to her, Dongfang Qingcang took a quaking breath. He squeezed her hand tighter, and she rubbed circles on top of his.

“They sacrificed themselves to seal away the enemy beneath the earth.” 

They knew this story. This was their story.

Chapter Text

“Is this truly the only option we have?” Shangque asked, a rare, grim expression on his face. 

“I’ve said it a thousand times,” Jieli snapped, and she immediately regretted it. They were all suffering. She didn’t need to get angry at her husband for hoping, praying there was another option. “There’s nothing else, and we’re running out of time.”

“Shangque,” Dongfang Qingcang said, and he put his hand on the taller man’s shoulder. “We will be fine. We will see you again.” 

“In a better world,” Xiao Lanhua continued. “I’m certain this will work. Jieli is right. Daqiang and I are the only people who have been able to even affect the entity.” 

“We are the only ones who can do this.”

Xiao Lanhua had tried to remain firm and calm around her people, but surrounded by just her friends, as well as her husband, she found her eyes welling up, and she sniffled loudly. A group of sorcerers stood outside the cave, waiting to be called in for their assistance. 

“Once the incantation is finished, Xiao Lanhua and I will fall into a deep sleep,” Dongfang Qingcang explained. “The Glazed Fire and her powers will be channeled into the earth below without ceasing. This will keep the seal in place.”

“And once the seal is sturdy enough, you two will wake up,” Jieli said with a smile. “In the meantime, some of your power will also reach Cangyan Sea. Moon Supreme, the Glazed Fire is the power of love and compassion. With it, the Moon Tribe will not be allowed to perish.”

“It will bring stability and hope, your highness.” Shangque said, “Just as you have always done. We will be able to rebuild our kingdom.”

“Xiao Lanhua is our goddess of life,” Jieli said. “With her power, the land of Cangyan Sea will remain a place where the Moon Tribe can live. They will always have food and water, and they will flourish.” 

Xunfeng had been quiet, a look of deep contemplation on his face. He’d been sullen the past few days since their plan had been put in place. 

Dongfang Qingcang turned to him and frowned, his eyes averting away in a rare moment of shame. “Xunfeng, over and over I have asked you to take charge of Cangyan Sea. You have ruled over it far longer than I have even been present in this world.” He referred to the thirty thousand years he’d been sealed, to the five hundred years he’d been nothing but a sliver of primordial spirit. “You were not trained for this, and you were not raised for this. It is not fair.” 

He leveled his gaze at his brother. “But I must ask you again, and I don’t know how long it will be for.”

“I understand,” Xunfeng replied, and he tried his best to not let his voice waver.

Dongfang Qingcang nodded. “You must not allow yourself to be isolated. There are many people out there who will support you. Surround yourself with them.”

“However long it takes, I will.”

“And...” he cleared his throat. “If you do find someone, as I assume that someday you may, make sure it’s someone who will stand beside you, not above or below you, at all times.”

“Brother, are you saying I need to find someone as good as my sister-in-law?” he replied, and there was a hint of a smile on his face. 

“Don’t be foolish,” Dongfang Qingcang hmphed. “There is no one as good as my Xiao Lanhua.” He put an arm around her shoulders proudly, and she smiled and shook her head. 

“Time is running out,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I can feel it in the earth. It will not be long before the momentary seal we put down will break.” 

“Right, call the sorcerers in.” 

Shangque nodded and opened the stone door behind him, gesturing them inside. 

Xiao Lanhua turned to her friends, her family, not all of whom were there, but she hoped her messages would be passed along to those who were not. 

“Tell Creeper to take good care of the destiny books. I know it’s a lot. She’s just cultivated herself recently, but she’s the only one I’ve taught.” She bit her lip and fiddled with her fingers a bit. “Tell Danyin and Changheng to be well, and...” Her eyes glittered with tears. “Tell everyone that they have to be here when we awaken. I want to hear everything that happened while we were gone.” She glanced around at everyone surrounding her: family, friends, and the man she loved. “And... know that I love you all, and so does Moon Supreme, even if he won’t say it out loud.” Dongfang Qingcang’s mouth dropped open, but he did not argue. “I love you, and thank you.”

“What happened next?” Xiao Lanhua asked, and her voice was quiet. She... didn’t know the rest of the story. 

“It worked,” the monk said. “The danger was no more, and the mortal realm continued to prosper. As for the immortal realms... well...

“Well?” Dongfang Qingcang leaned forward. 

“I assume they also recovered, but we don’t know.” The monk sighed and shook his head. “What tenuous links existed between the mortal and immortal realm were severed, at least on our end.”

“What do you mean?” Xiao Lanhua asked. They had not planned on anything like that occurring. 

“Perhaps the power of the seal was too much, but mortal humans lost the ability to cultivate. There was no longer any way for us to channel a reality beyond what we could see right in front of us.”

“And immortals?”

“Occasionally, a new story of the conquests of the immortals would spread around the mortal world, so it seems they still had a connection to us, but that was rarer than it used to be.” He shrugged. 

“Then they must have had a way to get back and forth!” Xiao Lanhua exclaimed. 

The old monk tapped his chin. “Yes? I did say they appeared to still have a connection to the mortal realm.” He shucked. “This is just an old tale, young lady. You two are taking it awful seriously.

“It’s not a tale,” Dongfang Qingcang interrupted. His expression was intense, as was his tone, and he swung his arm in front of him, as if physically cutting the other man off. 

“Dongfang Qingcang!” Xiao Lanhua berated him. 

“What’s the point in not being truthful?” he asked. “We’re not altering his fate; we are just trying to get information.” 

She bit her lip, then sighed. “Good Monk, how do you think the immortals went back and forth between worlds?”

He went silent for a moment, his brow furrowed. “I suppose... there are some objects they may have used. Cultivators used them once upon a time. They required immense power, but after the bond with the mortal world was severed, they became useless to humans.” 

“And do you know where they might be?” 

"Well, we have one in this temple.”

“Show it to us,” Dongfang Qingcang commanded. His expression made it clear he was not taking no for an answer. 

The old man blanched and held up his hands. “You two are beginning to alarm me. I can’t show you. It’s a sacred artifact of our temple, and it’s forbidden to show to guests.” 

“What do you want in exchange for showing us?” he asked, ignoring his protests. “We will not take no for an answer.”

“Good sir, I may need to ask you and the young lady to leave.” The monk pushed himself up off the floor, dusting off his robes with his hands once he’d done so. “Unless you have something else to ask, this ends—”

“Wait,” Xiao Lanhua said. She stood up and bowed kindly to the monk, then offered her hand to Dongfang Qingcang. “Please hear us out.” 

He raised his brows but motioned for her to speak.

“You can tell him,” she said, squeezing her husband’s hand. “I just want to go home... So just... we’ll tell him.” 

Dongfang Qingcang nodded. “Your story is mostly true, old monk,” he began, “but I am not a demon king, as much as my opponents may believe me to be so, and the goddess of Xishan is not the queen of the fairies.” 

“Excuse me?”

“The people in your story,” Xiao Lanhua said, “are us. My name is Xiao Lanhua, and this is my husband, the Moon Supreme of Cangyan Sea, Dongfang Qingcang. We only just now awoke.

He stared at them bug-eyed for a few moments, then stifled a laugh. “Think you can prank me because I’m an old man?” He waved his hands forward. "Now, shoo, you two. It was nice to share the story with you, but that’s all I can do.”

“We’re not kidding!” She exclaimed, then groaned loudly. “I am so tired of everyone thinking we’re kidding.” 

She stood up straight and stepped closer to the monk, her eyes blazing. “I am Xiao Lanhua. Some call me Xiyun. I am the goddess of Xishan and the Moon Queen of Cangyan Sea. I want to go home, so please show us the artifact so we can try.” 

The monk had the decency to tremble. As Dongfang Qingcang knew, his sweet-natured wife could be scary in her own right. He stepped forward, next to her, and towered over the old man.

“I don’t wish to threaten you, but perhaps this could convince you.”

And in his hand, a flame burned red. The red was unlike any fire that could be found elsewhere in heaven or earth—a color more crimson than scarlet. He stepped back, and it burst forth around him, surrounding his body in a ring of fire.

Xiao Lanhua moved beside him and unleashed her own power, her hands and arms glowing with emerald light. She placed one on the floor of the temple, and the wood cracked beneath her touch. Stems and vines snaked out of the break in the floor, and within just a blink of an eye, a small, but brightly blooming rose bush glowed in the dim light of the temple. 

The monk backed up so far that he nearly smacked against the main altar of the hall. For a moment, Xiao Lanhua was concerned the poor man was about to have a heart attack. Then, they really would have meddled in fate. But he composed himself as best he could. 

And kowtowed before them. “Yes, sir, and lady immortal. Please do not harm our humble temple or my fellow monks. If you must punish—”

“Silence,” Dongfang Qingcang shouted. He extinguished the Glazed Fire, though it made him only marginally less intimidating. “We will not harm you. Just show us the artifact. We will not be seen. You won’t get in trouble.”

“Sir…?”

Dongfang Qingcang snapped his fingers. “We are all three invisible now. Guide the way, with haste.” 

“We didn’t want to scare you,” Xiao Lanhua said as they entered the locked hall, the monk with a key in hand. It was in the back of the temple complex, past where visitors cared to venture. “We can usually just transport ourselves home in an instant, but there seems to be something stopping us. It must be whatever our seal did to sever the link between realms.”

“Perhaps it was done for protection,” Dongfang Qingcang mused. “Breaking the ties between the mortal and immortal realm could make it more difficult for that being to reawaken.”

“Mmm, both the Glazed Fire and Xilan seal do sometimes seem to have a mind of their own.” 

“Perhaps it was fate?” The monk cut in, and his voice had grown cautious. 

“I’ve never much cared for fate,” Dongfang Qingcang responded, and Xiao Lanhua bit her lip to stop herself from grinning. He was really so much, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t love that aspect of him. “Our will was to protect. Our powers merely enacted that.” 

The monk did not reply, instead approaching a glass case, which he also unlocked. With great care, he removed a small stone relief. 

It looked ancient. The design carved into the relief was almost indiscernible. It was the figure of a person, but they could not make out the details. 

Nonetheless, it thrummed with power. 

“Legend tells us that this belonged to one of the last great cultivators,” the monk said. “She fell in love with one of the warriors of the fairy realm and was gifted this by said immortal. The immortal, a woman who had been lauded for her accomplishments on the battlefield for centuries, told her it could be used once, and only once, to bring her to the realm of the immortals.” 

“Did she use it?”

The monk shook his head. “No, the cultivator died in battle against the same being you sealed.” Xiao Lanhua frowned. “But it is said that the cultivator’s life had actually been an immortal’s tribulation, so the two were able to reunite once again after her death.”

A happy ending. Though not the happiest. Xiao Lanhua was more aware than most that the tribulation of an immortal created its own, independent person. Mortals were their own people, as opposed to being simply tools used by the immortal realm to gain more power. Xiao Run had not been Changheng, and Changheng had not been Xiao Run. Still, she was glad their souls had found contentment. 

“It still holds its power,” Dongfang Qingcang said. “I think it may work.” 

“If this works, the artifact may go with you.” The monk sighed. “Will I be found out?”

“Lock the case now,” Xiao Lanhua said. “The invisibility spell should hold for some time after we leave; you should be okay.” The old man handed her the relief, and she rubbed her fingers over it. It was so old and so delicate that it frightened her. How long had it been?

“We should both touch it,” Dongfang Qingcang said. “And think of the shore of the Memory Loss River. If the power it holds has at all diminished, Silent Moon Palace may be too far away.” 

“Yeah…” She held the relief out to him, and he placed his hands on top of it, gently, as not to damage it. “Are you ready?” 

He smiled at her. “I’m ready. Let’s go home.” 

Transporting oneself from the mortal to the immortal realm was not a particularly intense or memorable experience. It was almost instant; a blink of an eye and you were there. 

This time was not like that. Dongfang Qingcang and Xiao Lanhua felt pressure at their dantians, and then it was as if they were being sucked inside the stone relief. It was painful, although not unbearably so, and in the background, they could hear the sound of the artifact clattering on the floor and splitting in half. For a moment, they felt panic set upon them. They opened their eyes, and their surroundings were strange—a glowing starscape, shooting stars of all colors darting past. Xiao Lanhua was reminded of when she’d first entered Haotian Tower and the strange realm where her kiss had awoken Dongfang Qingcang from what had been intended to be eternal sleep. 

An in-between space of sorts; a place between worlds. Perhaps they could have appreciated the beauty of it on another day. 

And then, heat . 

The pair of them landed on their rears, and their hands made contact with hot sand? The shore of the Memory Loss River was more rocky than sandy, and Cangyan Sea was rarely this warm. Behind them they could hear the telltale current of the river they knew so well though; it was a river like no other, imbued with magic, and it flowed with a distinct, melodious sound. There was nothing else like it. 

Dongfang Qingcang pulled Xiao Lanhua to her feet, and they surveyed their surroundings. 

Sand in all directions. The river behind them was the only break in it.

There was sparse vegetation, bushes and grasses growing stubbornly out of the ground. There were dunes in the distance. Even further away, they could see the peaks of craggy mountains. The sun blazed bright in the daytime sky, and it shone down bright upon the golden sand. The air was dry, but it was not still. The wind whipped around them, blowing their hair into their faces. Xiao Lanhua spit a piece out and frowned, and Dongfang Qingcang tossed his behind his shoulders. 

It was not desolate in the same way the Xuanxu Realm was. Xiao Lanhua could sense there was life, and plenty of it. But it was not...

“This is Cangyan Sea,” Dongfang Qingcang said, and he sounded breathless. 

“But how…”

“Feel, Xiao Lanhua,” he replied. 

And she concentrated on the pulse of the land around her, beneath her. There it was: the familiar rush of her own power and the warmth of her husband’s Glazed Fire, swirling beneath their feet. They were not in the mortal realm, where that being had been sealed, and this is the only other place they’d be able to feel such a thing.

Were they in Xishan, she’d have been able to feel her own power, but not his. 

This strange land was Cangyan Sea. Their home, a land of deep forests, temperate, cool air, and gentle sun, was gone. 

“What should we do?” she nearly whispered. 

“We move. We find our people.” 

“They’re still here.”

“Yes, yes they are,” he replied. He straightened his posture and took a deep breath. “And I think... they aren’t far.” 

She could see the way he forced himself to stand up straight, to stiffen his body and harden his expression into a neutral, determined one. This time, she held back her tears.

“Are you okay?’

Silence for several moments before he let out a shuddering breath and allowed his body to go limp, just a bit. “No, no, I’m not.” 

And Xiao Lanhua leaned up and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing his cheek to her own. She squeezed, and she squeezed, and he held her back, clutching the fabric of her clothing with such force she felt it may tear, but she paid it no mind. 

“It’s okay to cry. I’ve done it so much the past day, and you’ve done so much to comfort me,” Xiao Lanhua cooed. She felt moisture against her cheek, and she smiled, relieved he was allowing himself a minute to grieve. “You know better than to think you have to be strong for me. This has been my home for many years, but it’s been yours for your whole life.” 

Gently, she pushed him down onto his knees, and he willingly complied, his body loose and pliable under her touch. She went down with him, never letting go for a moment. 

“My whole life,” he said, and it was muffled by the sound of his lips against her skin, but she could still make out what he said. “I lived for nothing but protecting the people of Cangyan Sea.”

“I know…”

“By any means necessary,” he added, and he shuddered, a sob ripping out of his center as he did so, “even if it hurt, even if it changed me irrevocably.”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

He shook his head and pulled away. She reached up and wiped his eyes, her expression one of such great tenderness that he almost found himself unable to breathe.

“Xiao Lanhua,” he said, “I am so frightened of what we will find beyond those dunes.” 

She moved her fingers from beside his eyes to his cheek. “Take all the time you need. We can go when you’re ready.” 

Dongfang Qingcang shifted, moving his hand up to cover where hers rested on his face. “No, I don’t want to sit here and ruminate. That will just make it worse.” He leveled her a firm gaze, and she noticed how the tears still glittered in the corner of his eyes as he did so. “Are you ready?” 

“Mmm, don’t worry about me.” She glanced down with a small smile. 

“I will always worry about you.” 

“I know,” Xiao Lanhua said. “But I really will be okay. If you are ready, I think it’s time for the Moon Supreme to greet his people once more.” 

“And the Moon Queen as well.”

“Yes, I will be beside you.” She pulled his hand down and reached for the other, clasping both of them between her own. “I-if Xunfeng is not Moon Supreme and someone else is instead, what happens?”

Dongfang Qingcang cocked his head just a bit. “If they will not relinquish the throne to me, I will have to fight them for it.”

“I don’t want you to fight them.” Xiao Lanhua bit her lip and swayed their clasped hands. 

“I know you don’t.” He gave her a soft smile, one that she was certain no one else got to see. “But that is the way of Cangyan Sea. Don’t worry, I will win.”

She hmphed. “Damutou, I know you will,” she grumbled. “I’m not worried about that. I just... wish you didn’t have to.” He merely nodded. “That you could always use your hands to... I don’t know; help me grow flowers instead.” She smiled a little sheepishly. He was the ruler of Cangyan Sea, and while they had experienced relative peace for centuries upon end, before the spirit, the creature that had taken them away from everything they’d known, had appeared, she still knew that fighting came with the territory. She had grown to accept this, to understand that the duties and responsibilities he held as Moon Supreme might not always be in line with the life she wished they could lead. In fact, she was usually by his side. As the goddess of Xishan, she was the only person in the three realms who could stand toe to toe with his power.

But she did not have to like it. She would never like it. And she knew he had become the same—that he’d rather be at home with her; planting their garden or practicing his qin or reading books. He didn’t have the bone-deep opposition to war that she did; he considered it a necessary evil, and even without the Hellfire, even with his emotions returned, he was still a man who had been sharpened into a sword. But in his heart, for the safety of his people, of his soldiers, and of those he loved, he wished for permanent peace. And for himself. He didn’t want to risk his life on the battlefield if he wasn’t forced to. There were things in this world that brought him more joy than winning a battle every single day. 

“Xiao Lanhua,” he said, and his voice was soft but wary. “Do you think flowers can even grow in this version of Cangyan Sea?”

She blinked at him and sighed, then pulled him down closer to the ground and released his hands. “Dongfang Qingcang, don’t be foolish,” she said. She placed her hands on the hot sand, and there was a gentle pulse as her power was released. In mere seconds, a green glow, and a tiny, but tenacious bushel of flaming red poppies had blossomed under her touch. “There is nowhere that I haven’t been able to make flowers grow.” 

With great care and a deft touch, he rubbed a fingertip along one velvety petal, ever amazed at what his wife could do. 

Xiao Lanhua held out a hand to pull him to his feet, but then started. “Do you hear that?” 

A roar, in the distance, and it was growing louder by the moment. If she had to guess, it sounded a bit like some of the mechanisms they’d heard in Shanghai, but it was different enough to be distinct. 

“Of course I do.” He squinted in the distance and spotted a vehicle of some sort, a long object with an occupied seat in the middle and two large wheels on each end. It almost resembled what would happen if you tried to make a mechanical horse. And it was coming fast, blazing hot sand dusting up under the wheels as it did so. 

Within moments, it stopped directly in front of them, and a young woman hopped off. Her hair was cropped short and messy, and she wore a long duster jacket made of what appeared to be several different types of brocade. Beige leather gloves covered most of her hands, and her fingers stuck out at the end of them. There was a scarf around her neck that wrapped up and covered her ears. The design of it was familiar with them; the iconography of the Moon Tribe was emblazoned upon it, a red dragon curled up as if forming a seal, as well as the crescent moon with a flower vining around it as had been adopted by many upon Dongfang Qingcang’s second return to life. A pair of goggles covered her eyes, and she raised them up so they rested atop her hair. 

“You two sure made a ruckus,” she said with a laugh. 

“We did?” Xiao Lanhua asked.

“Yeah, when you transported yourselves, it was like a boom!” She spread her arms in a gesture to convey just exactly how loud it was. “Usually when people return from the mortal realm, we don’t even notice. What did you two use?” 

“It’s hard to explain,” Dongfang Qingcang said, his brows furrowed downward. “Who are you?”

Her grin grew wider, and she pointed directly at him. “Oh wow, Hello Kitty!”

“Kitty?” He cocked his head. “Why would you assume I have such a ridiculous name?”

She laughed loudly. “Your shirt!” She slapped her hand on his shoulder, and he bristled. “The character on your shirt is named Hello Kitty.”

“Oh…”

Xiao Lanhua giggled. “Miss…”

“Qiuyue, my name is Qiuyue,” she replied. “All right, are you two tourists? I’ll take you back to the capital. Usually tourists transport themselves from Shuiyuntian or Haishi City directly to the capital, but I guess you two decided to make an adventure of it.” 

Dongfang Qingcang shook his head and leveled her a glare. “Absolutely not. We are Moon Tribe.” 

She shrugged. “Okay, well, do you want a ride to the city? It might be a tight squeeze, but my motorcycle should be able to fit all three of us.” 

Xiao Lanhua grasped Dongfang Qingcang’s hand and took a deep breath. “Qiuyue, could you tell us the name of the Moon Supreme right now?”

She looked at them both as if they’d grown an extra head. “Are you sure you two aren’t tourists? Maybe from a parallel world.”

“What do you mean?”

Qiuyue frowned. “There is no ‘Moon Supreme,’ and there hasn’t been one since His Highness Lord Xunfeng was the last of them.”

“How is this the case?” Dongfang Qingcang said, and he knew his tone was, perhaps, a bit frightening, but he’d felt his pulse lodge in his throat, and he had no idea how else to react. 

“His Highness Lord Xunfeng retired the title when he abdicated the throne in old age,” she explained, seemingly unphased by his tone. “According to legend, the last Moon Supreme said that the only way it will be reinstated is if Dongfang Qingcang himself comes back to claim it.” Qiuyue shook her head. “But it really does just sound like the stuff of storybooks, doesn’t it? A ruler with the power of love and compassion who saved us from Shuiyuntian and helped defeat the evil god Taisui. His goddess wife, who could return things to life and had the ability to turn even the most desolate places into a garden.” As if drawn to it, Qiuyue glanced down at the tiny bushel of poppies growing by Xiao Lanhua’s feet. “It would be nice if it were true.” 

She let out a nervous laugh. “A-anyway, hop on the motorcycle; I’ll take you to the city.” 

Xiao Lanhua turned to Dongfang Qingcang, and her eyes were wide and scared. Of course, they’d been speculating it without speaking it out loud, but Xunfeng, the man who had become her brother, was gone. And this had long been the case. Blood had rushed to her ears, and she could feel her heart hammering in them. Dongfang Qingcang’s jaw was set straight, full mask on, not a trace of the man who Xiao Lanhua knew could feel his emotions so deeply. 

“Should we tell...”

“No,” he cut her off. “Let’s wait. Let’s just have her take us to the city.” 

Xiao Lanhua mimicked what Qiuyue had done and climbed astride the motorcycle behind her. Dongfang Qingcang followed suit. It was a tight squeeze, to be sure. His rear sat awkwardly on the raised edge of the leather seat. He thought of it as a horse and wrapped his arms around his wife’s center. She had wrapped her own arms around the waist of the woman in front of her. 

“How is this powered?” Dongfang Qingcang thought to ask.

“Cultivation of course,” Qiuyue said. 

“That’s what we thought!” Xiao Lanhua replied. “But in the mortal world, they don’t have that.”

“They don’t have cultivation period.” The other woman waved dismissively. “But we do, and it’s the greatest natural resource in the three realms. We don’t run out of it, and we can use it to do almost anything we need, including powering this motorcycle.” She patted the handlebars. “Honestly, how do you not know these things? They do the same thing in Haishi City and Shuiyuntian.

They mused on how to answer, but it turned out she wasn’t waiting for their response. 

“Okay, let’s go.” Qiuyue grinned. “Giddy-yup.” 

The motorcycle started with such suddenness that Dongfang Qingcang felt he was going to be thrown off the back. It was loud, and soon it was cutting through the sand as if it were a beast swimming through water; with total ease. 

The wind whipped by them, so quickly as to disorient him, and his hair blew every which way. There wasn’t a moment where he wasn’t spitting it out of his mouth. And sand too. That was everywhere. In his clothes, in his hair, and in his mouth. 

And Xiao Lanhua? She was laughing. She was letting out little whoops, and she had whipped her head back in pure joy as to what they were experiencing. She was having the time of her life.  Her hair still flew into her face, but it wasn’t quite as long as his, and it seemed to be cooperating better. 

At one point she removed one hand from around Qiuyue’s waist and screamed in glee as she raised her arm above her head, as if skimming the sky. 

“Daqiang…” she yelled over the din of the motorcycle. She glanced back at him, and upon seeing his chagrined expression and his hair flying every which way, covering so much of his face that it looked like he’d just been doing handstands, she laughed even harder, almost shrieking. 

When they’d met, Xiao Lanhua had been terrified at first when they rode Shangque. This may have been in part because she was being spirited away from her home on the back of a dragon by the man who had been called the greatest enemy of the four realms. But nonetheless, she got over it, and soon she started to enjoy flying in the sky on the back of her black dragon friend. He had no idea how much her tolerance had increased until now. 

But a ride on Shangque, unless he was being deliberately obstinate, which he had only done once or twice to his credit, was, in Dongfang Qingcang’s opinion, smooth as silk compared to this. Was it just the environment that made this ride so unpleasant? He did not want to know. He just wanted to stop eating sand.

Chapter Text

When the trio of riders crossed the dunes, the new capital of Cangyan Sea almost immediately came into view. 

Dongfang Qingcang did not know what to expect, but it was not this. 

The city was bigger than the previous capital had ever been. The streets were full to the brim with people and with cultivation powered vehicles. There were tall buildings and storefronts and homes everywhere; most made of clay and stone, but a few appeared to be bamboo. Repurposed items were abundant; old motorcycles had been taken apart to be used as chairs, as bases for tables. He saw a woman pulling around a streetside noodle cart that had clearly been one in its previous life. Most of their clothing resembled Qiuyue’s; sturdy clothes meant for desert living. 

The sun blazed down on the city, and both Xiao Lanhua and Dongfang Qingcang were squinting, but the people were well adapted. It was, judging by the sky, around mid-day, when it was brightest and hottest, and most had parasols or hats to assist, or like Qiuyue wore a scarf. 

His people. They were laughing and working. Despite the inhospitable environment, they looked healthy and well fed; thriving. And there were so, so many of them. 

Qiuyue had slowed the motorcycle, allowing them to observe the city around them. Xiao Lanhua’s eyes were wide and full of wonder, an open mouthed smile on her face. 

She reached back and squeezed Dongfang Qingcang’s hand. He was similarly, surveying his surroundings with awe. 

“The Moon Tribe looks… well,” he finally managed, with a veneer of impassivity. 

Qiuyue laughed. “Why wouldn’t it?” 

He shook his head. “I did not assume that the environment was ideal for our people, that’s it.”

“People can thrive anywhere, Daqiang.”

“She’s right,” Qiuyue said. She swerved and parked the motorcycle on the side of the street, something many others had done with their own vehicles. “But there is something else too. Come here.”

Dongfang Qingcang offered Xiao Lanhua his hand as she jumped off the motorcycle. Once he’d done so, he immediately took to trying to salvage whatever had happened to his hair. He pushed it behind his neck and attempted to comb some of the sand out of it. 

“Should we follow her?” 

He shrugged. “I don’t see why not.” 

She led them to a rusty colored stone gate, above which was a beautiful arch. In the center of it was painted a woman in white, holding a sphere of green light and with a peaceful smile on her face. She wore a gold crown.

“Xiao Lanhua,” Dongfang Qingcang whispered, pointing up at the arch, “look at that.”

A small smile crossed her lips. “I noticed.”

“It does not capture your beauty,” he said matter-of-factly. 

She let out a quiet snort. “That’s what you say every single time.” 

“And it never ceases to be true. Though my people can make the finest art in the three realms, perhaps there are some things that can never be properly captured.” 

She bit her lip and giggled. “You’re so sappy Damutou…”

“Are you two coming?” Qiuyue yelled back. They joined her at the entrance to the gate, and she pushed it open.

Inside, in the space of what appeared to be a normal courtyard, was a miniature oasis. 

The center of the space held a pond with crystal clear water, a fountain spouting from the middle of it and making soft tinkling noises. Around it were small flowering trees and bushes of roses and camellias and begonias and so, so many orchids. The color of it was more than she’d seen anywhere since they had awoken. 

Several stone benches were littered about the garden, and people sat on them, conversing and generally enjoying themselves. Some were even eating. 

At the head of the garden was a small pavilion, and Qiuyue led them to it to take advantage of its unoccupied state. 

“What is this place?” Xiao Lanhua asked, nearly breathless. While it wasn’t as if her power had been depleted before, here she felt it almost overflow. 

Qiuyue ran a fingertip along the table idly. “When the Moon Supreme and Moon Queen were sealed, their power was left behind to protect us,” she began. “What happened back then irrevocably changed the land. It never recovered, and eventually it… changed to what you see now.” She rested her hands behind her head and shrugged. “But the people of the Moon Tribe realized that things were easier than they’d expected them to be. They still had to rebuild, but water was always plentiful, and even in this environment, they still found places where, somehow, it was easy to grow crops, grow fruits and vegetables. And there are a few very small areas like this, where there seems to be almost no end to what we can grow.” She let out a short laugh. “Outside of this city? There’s an oasis, a lake that never empties. Our people have been using it for hundreds of thousands of years, and it’s always remained full. How is that possible?” 

“Xiao Lanhua…” Dongfang Qingcang said, and his voice was hushed, as if he were speaking of a miracle. 

Xiao Lanhua’s eyes were wide in surprise, in disbelief she had managed something that huge. 

“I don’t want to make it sound like everything is easy all the time. Is it anywhere? I’m sure that was true even in the Cangyan Sea of long ago. A lot of the rivers still dry up every year, sometimes sandstorms obliterate crops. You know? But overall, it’s not bad at all.” She leaned her chin on her hand. “Of course, the legend is that it’s the powers of the Moon Queen, giving life to the land even in ways that defy logic.” 

“And why wouldn’t it be that?” he asked, his brows narrowed.

“I’m not saying it isn’t,” she replied. “It’s just been so long. I suppose there’s no other explanation for it though…” 

“All of this should be archived in Silent Moon Palace,” Dongfang Qingcang said, “so there should be no doubt as to the veracity of it.” 

“Did you really not go to school at all? No one has been able to get inside the Silent Moon Palace since His Highness Lord Xunfeng dissolved the title of Moon Supreme. When they decided to rebuild the capital, they rebuilt it to be close to this lake, and every high official relocated here. The palace was sealed. The only one who would be able to get in is…”

“Dongfang Qingcang,” Xiao Lanhua finished. She nodded. “Qiuyue, this city is beautiful. The people of Cangyan Sea are amazing.” 

Dongfang Qingcang himself had grown quiet, clearly having slipped into deep contemplation. There was so much to concern himself with, and that didn’t even touch on the grief he must have been feeling. Discreetly, she rubbed his back. 

“Of course,” she replied, then leaned over the table, very pointedly toward Xiao Lanhua. “Say if you want to get to know the city a bit better, I could show you around later? We don’t often get tourists as pretty as you.” 

Within moments, Qiuyue was tugged backward with such force that she fell flat on the pavilion floor. There was no one behind her, but when she looked up, she saw Dongfang Qingcang with his elbow on the table and his fingers flicked forward, a dangerous look on his face. 

“S-sorry I was just shooting my shot!” she said with a nervous chuckle. “I didn’t know what your relationship was so…”

“We have been married longer than you can possibly imagine,” he said, his tone flat, but with an edge. 

“Congratulations on your marriage!” she held up her hands in surrender. “Well, your wife is very pretty.”

“I know.” He was smirking now. Xiao Lanhua had her hand on her forehead, but she was trying to conceal a smile. “But I will take you up on the offer of showing us around. Take us to Silent Moon Palace.” 

Qiuyue looked at him as if he’d grown an extra head. “You do realize I’m not actually a tour guide, right? Silent Moon Palace takes a full day to get to.” 

“That’s acceptable. We will reward you well for your assistance.”

She leaned back and rested her hands behind her head. “That is not why I offered to show your wife around.” 

“I am aware,” Dongfang Qingcang replied. “If gold is not sufficient, we can offer you treasure. It’s no trouble.” 

She paused for a moment, contemplative, then leaned forward. “Who in the heck are you two anyway? You talk like you think you’re a king, but both of you act like you haven’t left your house in your entire lives.”

Xiao Lanhua took a deep breath and frowned. “Daqiang, I think we should tell her…” She turned to him and placed a hand on his forearm. “She can help us out more if she knows.” 

He nodded. “Qiuyue, we need to speak to you in private. Take us somewhere we can do so.”

“We need your help,” Xiao Lanhua pleaded, and she batted her eyelashes for impact. 

The other woman froze. Her cheeks flooded pink, and she placed a hand over her heart before laughing nervously and rubbing the back of her head. “All right, all right you got me. Come with me, my shop is just a few buildings down.”  

With haste, they followed her out of the garden and down to her shop; a grungy looking space filled top to bottom with metal, parts, and several entire motorcycles.

Qiuyue called herself a mechanic, and they took advantage of what she did to finally get some information about the mechanisms that populated both the mortal and immortal landscape. Motorcycles, cars, vans, buses, and non cultivation based vehicles like bicycles and scooters. There were trains as well, but they didn’t have many of those in Cangyan Sea since the population was so centralized. They were vehicles. They were machines. The pair were beginning to wrap their heads around this. 

She sent her three employees home for the day and turned the sign beside the door around, marking her business closed, then took the pair of them to the back room and offered them tea. 

Xiao Lanhua accepted. Dongfang Qingcang held a hand up and told her “no need.” Qiuyue pulled a chair up and sat across next to them, interest keen in her expression. 

“Okay, so what was so important that you couldn’t tell me in the garden?” 

There was no way in the whole of the three realms she could have prepared for what she was about to hear next. 

It had been a full shichen since they’d revealed their true identities to Qiuyue, and she was jittery. Xiao Lanhua and Dongfang Qingcang did not fully understand why, but assumed it must have been connected to the fact that she’d been chain drinking tea since she found out. He’d counted at least three full pots. 

She’d already secured them a motorcycle to travel to Silent Moon Palace, as well as clothing that would be fit for their journey. Their current attire was wildly inappropriate for traveling in a desert environment. She’d placed a pair of goggles from her shop atop each pile of clothing. 

Dongfang Qingcang had argued against the motorcycle. They didn’t even know how to drive one. But, Qiuyue explained, it was easy. “Anyone who can use their cultivation to move objects can do it. You just have to use your power to direct where you want to go and how fast you want to move.” She smiled. “It’s a lot harder in the mortal realm. I promise you will have no trouble with it.” 

This did not solve Dongfang Qingcang’s other problem, which is how miserable he’d been on the cycle, but luckily, Xiao Lanhua had noticed that. “I’ll drive,” she offered. He accepted. 

Qiuyue glanced down to her feet and bit her lip. “Your highnesses, if my presence is required, I’m happy to go with you on my cycle, but is this not a journey you should make on your own?” 

Dongfang Qingcang let out a quiet hmm and nodded. “You don’t need to come. As long as your directions are sufficient, that is adequate enough. This is indeed, perhaps, something the Moon Queen and I should do on our own.”

“And we’ll still reward you,” Xiao Lanhua said, beaming in her direction. “We appreciate your help so much. Can you continue and assist us with setting off in the morning?” 

“O-of course, anything you need!” 

“Could we bathe? Eat?” she asked. 

“Your highnesses I am at your command in every word and deed.” Qiuyue held her hands clasped in front of her and bowed, with all the conviction of someone who had no idea what she was doing. And she was still shaking a bit, which Dongfang Qingcang found irritating, but graciously kept to himself. 

It turned out, there was no true royalty in Cangyan Sea now. There was a high official, his excellency the premier of the Moon Tribe, but he was chosen by the rest of the high court, as opposed to inheriting the title or gaining it in battle. The current premier had been in charge for twenty thousand years, and they’d been rather uneventful ones, lucky for him. 

There had been war in the past; occasional skirmishes with Shuiyuntian, although not at the level of the all out near endless war that had once dominated the two realms. But Qiuyue said, things had been calm since she had been a child, which was ‘around thirty thousand years ago.’

She had gone out to go get dinner for the pair because, in her words, ‘there is no way I’m feeding two of the most legendary figures in history my cooking.’ Before she’d done so though, she’d shown Dongfang Qingcang and Xiao Lanhua how to use the shower. 

That is where they were now, and Dongfang Qingcang had stepped in first, adjusting the water to the perfect temperature for Xiao Lanhua. When one has been married to a fussy little flower demon for eight hundred years, such things are learned. 

Xiao Lanhua no longer struggled with thriving if she did not receive morning dew with honey, or if she did not get the exact amount of sun an orchid plant requires. If she were to take the universe pill now, it would not burn her up inside. 

But, and this did not surprise Dongfang Qingcang in the least, it turned out that a Xiao Lanhua with her immortal root restored, with her body thrumming with so much more power than it had before, was still just as finicky. 

If a part of him was well aware that she would perhaps not be as picky if he did not cater to her whims, well, he didn’t mind. He was happy to do it. He enjoyed it. 

And Xiao Lanhua? Only she was worthy of it. 

Once the shower was ready, Xiao Lanhua removed her blouse and stepped in after him. Almost immediately, she pressed against his back and wrapped her arms around his center. 

And she breathed, deep and shuddering. Dongfang Qingcang rubbed soft circles on her hands. 

“Are you doing all right?”

She shook her head, and against his back, he could feel it. “Everyone is really gone, aren’t they?”

He didn’t respond. Instead he squeezed her hands tight and pulled one up and pressed a kiss to it. They sat there like that; for moments or minutes, neither was sure. 

Then he turned around so they were facing each other. The hot water fell around them, but even it could not conceal the tear tracks on Xiao Lanhua’s cheeks. He knew her. She’d likely been holding this in since they’d arrived in Cangyan Sea. And she’d done it for him.

“I’m here, and you’re here. Everyone is not gone.”

She sniffled and rubbed her nose. “You know what I mean.” 

Xiao Lanhua turned her cheek sideways and pressed it against his chest, over his heart. “Cangyan Sea seems to be thriving now. It’s different, and… it’s a little scary, but the people are happy and well.” 

“Yes, they appear to be.”

“Do they even need us now?” she asked, and it was only a murmur, like she wasn’t sure she wanted Dongfang Qingcang to hear it. 

He sucked in a breath and pushed her away, then held her by the forearms and stared down. There was a flash of anger in his eyes, but it was belied by softness. “You are the reason my people have thrived. The people of the Moon Tribe are strong. I believe they would have lived on nonetheless, but with your power, look at them now?”

“The garden… the lake…” 

“Between bringing back our men and what you’ve done since we were sealed, in the history of the Moon Tribe, the only woman who could stand up to you in importance is Yannv herself.” Dongfang Qingcang moved his hands up to her shoulders. “My people will always love you, and they do need you, just as I do.”

She sniffled and let out a giggle, then rubbed her cheek against the hand that rested on her shoulder. “You are always so honest.”

“Why would I not be?” His lips quirked up in a small smile. 

“I like it,” she replied. “I always have. Even if it means you’re rude sometimes.” She tapped his nose and smiled. The water washed away her tears. “And Damutou,” she looked straight up at him, her eyes clear and determined. “You are also needed. Your people thrived with your protection while we were gone. You have always been there for them, even when you physically could not be.” 

He nodded, then in thanks pressed a brief kiss to her lips. They lingered there. 

“Now turn back around.” She eventually pulled away and motioned. 

“Hmm?”

“I’m going to wash your hair! Look how much sand you had in it.” She glanced down at the shower floor beneath them, and he followed her gaze. There was… a lot of sand. He was beginning to understand why Qiuyue, who worked with motorcycles for a living, wore her hair short. 

Dongfang Qingcang turned and Xiao Lanhua grabbed the bottle that she had been informed was shampoo. She made sure his hair was soaked from bottom to top, then began to work the lather in, starting from the scalp. He tensed at her touch, then relaxed, becoming almost fluid under it. He thought he might melt into the shower floor as she rubbed it in, using her knuckles and the tips of her fingers to massage him as she did so. 

“Once it’s dryer, I’m going to braid it,” Xiao Lanhua said, her voice almost a hum in his ears.

“Braid? Hm, I’ve not really done that. Is that something the men of Cangyan Sea do now? I admit, I did not notice such a custom…” 

She leaned down and squeezed some of the water out of the end of his hair before rubbing the shampoo in down there as well. “No,” she let out a light laugh. “Not that I know of at least. I just want you to be a little less miserable on the motorcycle tomorrow.” 

“Oh. I appreciate that.” He pressed into her touch more. “I like this, by the way. The shower? We should install one when we go home.”

“I agree.” She moved his heavy hair aside and pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck, which caused him to shudder in delight. “How much do you think Silent Moon Palace will have changed?”

“If it’s sealed away, probably not much,” Dongfang Qingcang answered. “Before, Xunfeng barely changed anything in the thirty thousand years I was absent.” He tapped his chin. “We must also install flushable toilets. They are so useful.” 

Xiao Lanhua giggled at that before lathering his hair for a good thirty seconds more. “Now to rinse,” she said. 

He grabbed her wrist before she continued. “I will do you next.”

“Of course.”  Her expression was one of tenderness, and his was the same. They’d be okay.

In the morning, on the edge of the city, Dongfang Qingcang and Xiao Lanhua prepared to leave for Silent Moon Palace. Qiuyue was there to see them off. 

She handed them a leather pack. “This is some food. It’s mostly buns and dried fruit, things that will keep well. There’s also two big canteens of water. There is water to drink that’s safe along the way, so make sure to refill them when you have the chance.” 

“Will we meet anyone along the way?” Xiao Lanhua asked. She fiddled with the straps of the helmet she’d been given to wear. 

“There are a few small farming settlements between here and there. If you run out of food, you can pick some up at one of them. You could also stop for the night, though if you start now you should get to Silent Moon Palace by late afternoon without incident.” 

“Perhaps on the way back,” Dongfang Qingcang said. “We cannot stay long.”

“But it’s your home, isn’t it?” Qiuyue asked. 

“Of course it is,” he replied. “But I have a throne to reclaim, and I can’t do that with no one else there but Xiao Lanhua.” 

“You have to keep this secret,” Xiao Lanhua said. “Don’t let anyone know you met us.” 

“It goes without saying what may happen to you if you do.” Dongfang Qingcang leveled her a glare. Knowing who he was, his intimidating stare did make her tremble now. 

She held up her hands in front of her and nodded quickly.

Xiao Lanhua gave her a soft smile then turned to her husband. She thought he looked very regal in the apparel of this new, modern Moon Tribe. He wore a long, deep blue duster embroidered with birds, flowers, and plants vining up the back and on the sleeves in rich, gold thread. He had heavy, clasped boots on, and black fingerless gloves much like Qiuyue had worn. His pants were the same tight black pair he’d bought in the mortal realm, and the shirt he wore beneath his duster was also as such. She’d braided his hair, starting from the crown of his head. It was loose, but flush against his scalp until his neck. At the moment, the braid hung over his shoulder. 

That morning, Dongfang Qingcang had woken up before her and gone to a store closeby, where he’d picked her up a gift; it was a piece of hair jewelry much like the ones she’d worn since she’d first started fashioning herself in Cangyan Sea’s clothing so many years ago. She’d used a few of the gold chains from it to braid into his hair, and he’d done the same for her. 

For her part, she wore a light plum jacket, made of patchwork brocade, and a pair of boots that she admittedly loved. They were dark leather like Dongfang Qingcang’s, but with floral embroidery in rich pastels. She already knew the clothing would work well for the trip. Qiuyue had spent some time that morning showing her the ropes, how to use the cycle, and she was right, it was easy enough.  

The directions were simple. ‘A straight shot east’, and she’d given them a few landmarks to make sure they remained on track. The mountains near Silent Moon Palace, those that held the Mountain and Moon Festival in the past, would be the biggest signifier.

“Well we should be off,” Xiao Lanhua said. She mounted the motorcycle. “Thank you for the help. We will see you again.”

“Um, you will?”

“We have to return the motorcycle,” she replied with a smile. “And we promised to compensate you for helping us.” Dongfang Qingcang had pushed himself astride the motorcycle behind her, and he was now clasping the helmet on and fitting the goggles over his eyes. Xiao Lanhua followed suit. 

Qiuyue scratched the back of her head and grinned. “You don’t need to return it. You can consider it a gift for uh, saving the world?” 

“That’s not necessary. I’m sure we can easily acquire one of higher quality when we return,” Dongfang Qingcang replied. He wrapped his arms around Xiao Lanhua’s waist, secure in his protective gear.

“Dongfang Qingcang!” she whispered. Sure, it was easy to tell that the motorcycle was, while more than adequate functionality wise, not the newest or fanciest they’d seen in the city, but the poor woman had acquired it for them in two hours for free. 

“You said you liked my honesty.” He pushed up closer to her ear. She batted at his face, an exasperated expression on her face. 

Qiuyue frowned. “I didn’t claim it was pretty, but it will get you wherever you need to go, and it won’t break down.” She straightened her back and leveled her eyes with the pair. “I don’t know what it was like before, but you’ll discover that in this world, things might not look as perfect as they once did. The roughness of the sand has chipped the paint on this cycle, I replaced the handlebars with ones I made myself out of repurposed parts, and the wheel covers don’t match. I know all this, but I also know that it will work better than any motorcycle you could buy brand new.” 

She paused, for only a moment. “I’ve told you that the Moon Tribe is prosperous and thriving, and we are. We can thank you and her highness the Moon Queen for that, but we can also thank ourselves, and our own ingenuity. We are well off, but we are not rich. We have more than enough resources, via our own land and via trade, but we don’t have extravagance. We use our hands and our minds for things that are beautiful because they will last forever, not because they’re coated in gold and jewels. If we can use them again, for another purpose, we will do so.” And then Qiuyue was down on her knees, her hands clasped in front of her and her head bowed. “We are proud of the people we have become, and we hope that you can be proud of us as well.” 

Dongfang Qingcang’s eyes grew wide, and a small smile crossed his lips, before his expression hardened into something firm and resolute. He was quiet for several moments, deep in thought. 

“Rise,” he finally said. She did so, trembling. He took a deep breath. “What you have said is wise. I apologize for my insult to what you worked hard to provide us.” Qiuyue let out a quiet gasp. “Though the last days have been difficult for us, that is no excuse.” He shifted the pack they’d been given so it was secure on both shoulders. 

“When the Moon Queen and I were sealed, Cangyan Sea was indeed at its most prosperous, but our people spent many millennia before that struggling. One hundred thousand men were absent, and what men we did have were always fighting to protect our borders. There were not enough people to keep the kingdom afloat, to work the land and till the fields.” 

He frowned. “Shuiyuntian chipped at our lands every day, causing the resources we did have to become even scarcer. But the Moon Tribe has always been a proud and resourceful people, and it appears to be no different now.” Dongfang Qingcang angled his face toward Qiuyue and nodded, a soft smile on his lips. “We need to be off, as Xiao Lanhua said, but thank you again for your help.”

Qiuyue’s eyes closed in a wide, delighted smile. “We will show you the truth of your words.” 

Xiao Lanhua grinned and waved a goodbye to her, then turned on the motorcycle, the revving sound drowning out anything else they may have said. 

They were off, and already, Dongfang Qingcang could tell that he was going to have a better time on this motorcycle ride. Firstly, the ride was much calmer with Xiao Lanhua at the helm. It appeared that Qiuyue drove like a maniac, although he suspected, deliberately so. Perhaps he could get used to motorcycles if she was not driving. The braid helped as well. He was grateful Xiao Lanhua had suggested it. 

Second, and most importantly, he was not sharing the space with a third person, a stranger no less. Much of the time this was his preferred arrangement. Although he cherished the (very small) group of friends and family he’d acquired, he’d always felt he could do a limited amount of socializing each day. Unfortunately much of that socializing was dedicated to work each morning and afternoon, and so by the start of the evening, often the only person he wanted to see and spend time with was Xiao Lanhua. And on nights after especially stressful days, when all he wanted to do was read, or nights when there was so much going on that he couldn’t keep his brain quiet and all he wanted was silence, she was happy to sit there quietly with him, whether holding him, being held, indulging in her own hobbies, or even, on some occasions, reading the book aloud to him as he dozed off in her arms. 

But right now, as much as he was pleased to be in the presence of only Xiao Lanhua, he ached to see another friendly face. His best and oldest friend, his younger brother, even the former god of war.

Dongfang Qingcang leaned his head against Xiao Lanhua’s back and sighed. He wasn’t sure how long they’d driven, but the city was getting smaller in the distance.

Here, he could see the full scope of it. They’d only seen such a tiny amount so far. The breadth of the capital was enormous compared to the old one near Silent Moon Palace. This new Cangyan Sea was more centralized, but it did not change the fact that this beautiful city spread as far as his eye could see. There were no buildings as tall as some of the structures he was familiar with, nor was there a glittering palace on the horizon, but it was… breathtaking. 

“Xiao Lanhua,” he said, and he had to speak loudly, though not quite shout, against the wind. She glanced back for just a moment to acknowledge him. “Thank you for… this.”

“For what?”

He turned, just a bit, and held out his arm toward the city behind him. “For this.”

She bit her lip to hold back an even bigger smile. “You heard Qiuyue, that was the work of you and the Moon Tribe as well.”

“I know.”

Xiao Lanhua went quiet, then as if recalling something, let out a hmmph. “You were so rude to her.”

“I apologized.” 

“Not for throwing her off her seat.” 

“She asked you on a date.”

Xiao Lanhua laughed, enjoying both the feel of the wind on her face, and the steady, sure hold of her husband’s arms around her waist. “And? Just a minute before you’d told me that paintings couldn’t capture my beauty. Is it surprising a pretty girl might be interested in me?”

“Pretty, really?” He looked doubtful, but Xiao Lanhua knew that this time, he did not even mean it as an insult. He had no eye for beauty when it came to other people. They were not Xiao Lanhua, so why would he even pay mind to how attractive or unattractive they were? It was… sweet in its own way. Though, as with so many things related to the man she loved, also a little sad. Before her, beauty was irrelevant to him outside of his own need to look his best as a leader. Beauty in his surroundings, beauty in his own life? What time did he have for such things? How could a heart frozen from love fully appreciate the blooms of Simingdian, or the smells of the flower cakes she’d made so many times? 

It had been so long, but sometimes, she still wanted to cry for him.  

Xiao Lanhua shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Not half as pretty as you of course.”

Dongfang Qingcang would have preened, had he not been on a motorcycle, or had he been a bird.  

As they rode further, the city became a blur in the distance, almost a mirage, and the pair discovered just how much there was to see in the wilder parts of Cangyan Sea. They drove through shifting sand and tall dunes, through areas where the ground was rock hard, covered in only the thinnest layer of sand, and bushes and shrubs pushed up through the rigid ground. There was the steppe, grasslands that spread further than the eye could see made up of hardy grasses. Livestock fed on them, in fenced areas, and if they’d gone further toward them, they were sure they would lead to settlements. They outpaced rushing rivers and even followed along the bottom of a winding canyon; rocks of reds and golds, layered as if they’d been painted, rising up on both sides of them. And there was so much wildlife; as much as they’d ever seen in the Cangyan Sea of old. They had only seen a few people on the route, all either in their own vehicles, or on horses (finally, something they recognized), but Xiao Lanhua had waved at all them. 

Just past dunes that sounded as if they were singing, they found an oasis, a crescent moon shaped lake with a pagoda next to it. A beautiful tree lined path led up to the entrance. They stopped there to eat and drink, and they sat on the grassy knoll next to the lake, sharing fruits and mantou. There were a few other people there, seemingly also stopped over on their travels, and at one point a man, burly and middle aged, came over and insisted on offering them some steamed meat and rice. He owned the building, and he’d been excited to see someone new in the area. According to him, it tended to be the same flock of people that came through over and over; merchants, traders, farmers traveling between settlements. 

“Do you do well here?” Dongfang Qingcang asked. 

“Sure.” The man shrugged. “Most of my family has moved into the capital by now, but I like it out here. And every once in a while we get tourists like you, although this isn’t usually the season for it. Sometimes a couple will want to see where they used to hold the Mountain and Moon Festival, or even go all the way to Silent Moon Palace. There are some ruins too, of course, of the old capital.”

“We are close then,” Dongfang Qingcang replied. He was certain they had been. The mountains up ahead looked different; covered in sparse vegetation as opposed to the conifers that used to cover the tree line, but the shapes looked familiar. At their tops, he could see that their peaks were snow capped. At that height, it would snow no matter the environment. “To Silent Moon Palace, that is?”

“That’s where you’re going?” 

Xiao Lanhua nodded, taking another bite of the dried fruit and following it up with a swig of water. 

“Then yes, you’ve just a couple more hours before you’ll see it.” He took their empty rice bowls and stood up, stretching as he did so. “You know, if it weren’t for those mountains, I bet you’d be able to see it from here. It’s almost impossible how tall it is. When I first saw it,” he chuckled, “I remember thinking it might be a mirage. Legend says that from the top of it, you can see every star and planet visible with the naked eye.”

“We should be off,” Dongfang Qingcang cut in. He stood stiffly and walked down the small knoll to the lake with the canteen in hand to refill. 

Xiao Lanhua frowned as she watched him from behind. His back was squared, tense, and the tone of his voice had been short.

It was one thing to become a legend. It was another to exist in a world where that’s all that you were. 

The other man merely nodded, nonplussed but unbothered by their behavior. “Good luck with the rest of your trip then. You are more than welcome to stop on the way back again if you need a place to rest.” 

“Thank you so much for the meal,” she said kindly with a small bow toward him. She jogged down to join Dongfang Qingcang by the lake, swinging the pack onto her back as she did so. When she reached his side, she rested her head against his shoulder and wrapped an arm around his center. 

“It’s hard,” she murmured into his jacket.

“Mmm.” He frowned. “Let’s get to the palace. I think… I’ll feel more grounded there.”

They walked back to the motorcycle, up the grassy hill and down to the tree lined path, and Xiao Lanhua began to drive east again.

They drove east, past the singing sands and through the craggy peaks that separated the rest of the desert from what used to be the capital of Cangyan Sea. They drove east, through what must have once been woods where widows wept and through a valley where, if you looked up, you could see what remained of what must have been the last version of love lock bridge. They drove east, through ruins of the city they’d once known and loved, and then, on the horizon, there it was. It reigned high above the rest of the land; the towers and spires, the majestic spiral steps, the sheer scale of it. Untouched. 

Xiao Lanhua stopped the motorcycle and took off her helmet and goggles, and Dongfang Qingcang did the same. She bowed her head. This moment felt almost like mourning. Mourning a friend, the world she’d known and come to love in her time with Dongfang Qingcang so long ago. The Cangyan Sea that had become her home; the days they spent in the market buying whatsoever the other desired, the mornings in the courtyards of Silent Moon Palace, watering her flowers. Sometimes Daqiang would lift her up onto his shoulders so she could trim the low hanging branches of the magnolia trees. There were so many ghosts visible. How many more lay beneath the sand? 

She glanced over to him, out of the corner of her eyes. His head was bowed as well, and his hands were clasped around the strap of the helmet and goggles. 

Xiao Lanhua lifted her head toward him. She gently placed her fingers under his chin and pushed it up, turning his face toward hers. 

Anything they could say, they said in silence. Neither of them wept. This moment was not for them, but the memories that they’d never be able to relive; fleeting, ephemeral, and so long ago. Being an immortal meant comprehending the passage of time on a completely different scale than anyone else in the four realms, so how was it that against the passing of the eras, even they were powerless? 

Silent Moon Palace gleamed in the distance, beautiful as ever, but strange in this landscape; like a spirit that still haunted this land, an elder god ruling over a forgotten realm. 

Xiao Lanhua felt his hand slip into hers, and he pulled her toward him in an embrace. Dongfang Qingcang buried his nose in her hair, taking in the feel of it, the smell of it. It may have been trite to say, being that she was the Xishan goddess, but she always smelled of life, of flowers, of a green spring day when everything has just started to bloom. Even now, over four shichen into a drive across the hot desert, he could still smell that on her. He grounded himself with it. This was real. This was not a memory, not a dream. This was not a ruin or a legend or a ghost. 

Xiao Lanhua was here, she was rubbing his back and he could feel her breath against the hollow of his neck, and she was not going anywhere. 

“Let’s go Xiao Lanhua,” he near whispered. “Our home awaits us.” 

Chapter Text

The first thing that struck them was the silence. Despite the moniker, Silent Moon Palace had never been quiet like this before. Even in the middle of the night, someone would be up and about; whether it was cooks making breakfast for the next day, or guards on sentry, never allowing the perimeter to go unprotected for even a moment. But there was nothing; just Xiao Lanhua and Dongfang Qingcang’s footsteps echoing across a vast, empty, void of an entry hall. Although it was still light out, the palace was dim, so Dongfang Qingcang tossed a large orb of Glazed Fire up, allowing it to float close to the ceiling and illuminate their surroundings. 

 As they ventured forward, the pair walked without speaking, and Xiao Lanhua was certain that if they peeled open the walls, not even mice would be living in this forgotten place. 

The massive doors of the palace had opened to Dongfang Qingcang almost immediately, as if they were eager to greet him, had been anticipating him.

The furniture and floors shone; no dust, no cobwebs, not a single sign of age or decay. This magic had preserved Silent Moon Palace in the exact moment of Xunfeng’s departure, and it was only now, so many hundreds of thousands of years later, that it was allowed to breathe again, to exist again, in their world.

“Just like us…” Xiao Lanhua murmured, more to herself than anything else. 

But Dongfang Qingcang heard, and he nodded. He brushed a fingertip across the top of a table, deliberately leaving his fingerprint behind. 

An odd thing to do, perhaps, but Xiao Lanhua understood. Proof that he was here. Proof that he existed, that Silent Moon Palace existed, and that neither were lost to the past. A tangible mark. 

This was their home, but it felt so strange, so alien, and so lacking in warmth. 

Could they make it feel like theirs again? 

She felt a hand slide into hers and she squeezed. “If Xunfeng left anything behind for us, it’s probably in the throne room,” Dongfang Qingcang finally spoke. 

Xiao Lanhua nodded. The throne room was at the front of the palace, so they were already in the right place, but they both stopped when a massive silk painting came into view near the entrance, taller than Dongfang Qingcang and Xiao Lanhua put together. 

It was them. They sat next to each other, both resplendent and radiant in bold strokes of color that were far too bright and fresh looking for how ancient this painting must be. Dongfang Qingcang wore his heavy, twisting gold crown and one of the black, red, and gold robes that was familiar to them, and Xiao Lanhua glittered in the crescent moon headdress she wore when she attended court by his side. Her robes were a brilliant gold, stitched with embroidery of lavender blossoms. They both sat, poised on their thrones, and Xiao Lanhua’s hand rested on top of his open palm between them. 

“This is new…” 

“I guess Xunfeng must have had it done,” Xiao Lanhua said with a thoughtful hum.

“That’s not something I’d expect,” Dongfang Qingcang replied. “Silent Moon Palace has never had much in the way of portraits of previous rulers.” 

Xiao Lanhua reached out toward the tapestry, her fingers hovering over but not touching the fine silk. “I’m not the only one who loves you.”

He nodded, rueful, and sighed. “I know.” 

The throne room opened up in front of them as they entered, cavernous and empty, lit by the blazing red of Dongfang Qingcang’s Glazed Fire. At the front of the room, up cold stone stairs, were their thrones, side by side and empty. Had Xunfeng ever had anyone to sit beside him? Or had Xiao Lanhua’s throne been unused all this time?

The air in the room was chillier than they’d expected, and the hairs on their arms prickled at the presence of magic.  

“That’s strange, I’m certain there’s no one here,” Xiao Lanhua said, her voice pitched low. She rubbed her arm thoughtlessly. 

Dongfang Qingcang cocked his head and let out a quiet ‘hmmm.’ 

He snapped his fingers. 

Like smoke rising from a fire, soft tendrils began to form a shape in front of them. A vague outline, in almost transparent smoke, and then like a watercolor painting come to life, it burst into color. 

The tableau in front of them was large and detailed, and if they could describe it as such, it resembled more the strange machines that showed plays in the mortal realm than anything else. But that was still not accurate. There was a softness to the image, like the edges were blurred, and Dongfang Qingcang did not think this was showing a play, nor was it a machine. 

“It’s a spell,” he said. “I’ve seen this before, but never on this scale. It’s meant for spying. I’m guessing Xunfeng had this set up to keep an eye on other realms.” 

“And where is this?”

They stepped closer and examined the image in front of them. A massive body of water, and upon it, huge structures built tall instead of wide on small rocky islands, flat barges that were joined together to form cities, and near the edge of this great settlement, a small strip of land that was covered in a dense forest. People were everywhere, but they were mere specks at this wide view.

As they surveyed the image, it moved with their eyes, giving them a closer up view of wherever they were staring. It was a magic that Dongfang Qingcang admittedly found impressive.

And when Xiao Lanhua finally fixed her gaze upon the sky, she understood. “That’s the Water Pavilion. That’s Spirit Lock Gate.” 

Before, they’d been miles up in the clouds, but now, they hovered only a thousand or so feet above the water. “Daqiang, this is Shuiyuntian.” 

“It appears so…” He cleared his throat, seemingly unimpressed. “Do you want to continue looking? We can always do more later.”

“I want to ummm…” Xiao Lanhua bit her lip.

“You want to see Arbiter Hall, right?” He gave her a soft smile. 

“What if it’s not there anymore,” she said meekly, glancing down, and at this moment she was so like the timid Xiao Lanhua he’d met millennia ago. “I’m scared to look.” 

Dongfang Qingcang rubbed his hand across her back and pulled her closer to him, warm against her side. He had always run warm, ever since she met him, but the warmth that coursed through his veins when he held Hellfire had nothing on what Glazed Fire did. 

Hellfire was apathetic; it was powered by a void of emotion, an absence of love. He always felt the same when he had Hellfire, the same level of warmth. 

But Glazed Fire was different; it was powered by the strength of his feelings, and it was intuitive to them and to the people he loved. If she was cold, it would blaze brighter when he held her in his arms, turning him into what may as well have been a human furnace. There was nothing better than curling up in his embrace on a cold winter’s night. If it was hot out, he’d still be warm, but never to the point that he felt warmer than the air surrounding them. 

“You don’t have to look,” he said kindly. 

Xiao Lanhua nodded. “I’ll look later, I promise. I just…”  She sighed. “Can we see another realm?” 

“I’m not sure, why don’t you ask?”

She took a deep breath. “Show us Xishan.” 

The smoke like magic dissipated and then began to reform, and when it burst into color, it was green, green, green. 

Xiao Lanhua gasped in delight. Her Xishan looked almost the same as ever. There were clear differences in the topography, hills and small mountains and streams and waterfalls that were no longer there, or that were newly present, but it was Xishan, as it always had been, verdant and full of lush grass and clear waters and sunlit peaks. 

And then they both stared at the center, the rolling valley beneath Shaking Light Peak, and there it was; the Arbiter Hall that Dongfang Qingcang had built for her. Not far away, the little pavilion that he had spent his days and nights in, watching over her when she had been but a tiny plant. 

“Can it go closer?”

Before he could reply, the view of Arbiter Hall changed. It was closer now, and Xiao Lanhua could see that although it was for the most part, unchanged, there were… differences. 

For Xiao Lanhua, the Xishan copy of Arbiter Hall wasn’t somewhere she still spent a lot of time at, so it wasn’t filled to the brim with her belongings like Shuiyuntian’s original had been, but she did use it as a meeting place when she was fulfilling her role as the goddess, and it was important to her. 

The differences were mostly in material; light wood had been replaced with deep cherry reds and dark browns in places, and the outside furniture was similar, but different enough that there were some pieces that, while nice, were not to Xiao Lanhua’s taste. 

“It seems someone is caring for this Arbiter Hall,” Dongfang Qingcang said. 

“I wonder if someone else lives there now…”

“Would you be upset if they did? I can make them leave.”

She huffed. “Damutou, it’s been abandoned for hundreds of thousands of years. I should just be happy someone has taken care of it. They must have had to do a lot of work to maintain it.” 

“Are you sure?” He frowned. 

She nodded, resolute. “It’s okay. It’s just so… nice Xishan is the same as it always has been.” 

And Xiao Lanhua sniffled, quickly wiping a tear away and shaking her head. “I’m glad I got to see it.”

“We can go there,” Dongfang Qingcang offered, and she rested her head on his shoulder and smiled. 

“Later, of course. I’d love to go there later,” she murmured. 

“Whenever you wish.” 

He snapped his fingers, and the spell dissipated, leaving the throne room empty once more. 

“We can use that again any time, but I believe there is another spell underneath it,” he said. 

“Do you think Xunfeng did leave something for us?”  She bit her lip in thought, concentrating on what she could sense of the spell.

It was something Dongfang Qingcang had noticed she’d taken to doing during his five hundred year absence. He imagined that endless hours studying the texts of the Xilan tribe and learning to cultivate her new powers alone had birthed such habits. 

“No it’s not just him. There’s several people involved in this spell.” She tapped her cheek, pensive. “Daqiang, follow me.” 

She grabbed his hand and led him to the stairs below the thrones, where she sat down and patted the spot next to her. He looked nonplussed, but joined her at her side. 

Then, she gave him an impish smile and snapped her fingers, just as he’d done earlier. 

This time, it was small spheres of blue light that began to take shape, and within a minute, maybe two, they fully formed into a figure. The figure did not burst into color, but remained a muted, glowing blue; semi transparent, but with clearly defined lines, almost like a spirit. It was perhaps a bit too on the nose for Dongfang Qingcang’s taste, because the man standing in front of him was none other than… 

“Xunfeng…”

“Older brother, Moon Queen, if you are seeing this, that means you have returned.” 

The image of Xunfeng stared straight at them, and it smiled, just a bit. “That’s good. I hope it’s sooner rather than later. It’s been five hundred years since we sealed you away, and every day, the people hope for your return.” He let out a sigh. “This spell is from Xilan, and Changheng was the one to find it and bring it to us.” Xunfeng’s nose wrinkled, just a bit at this, and Dongfang Qingcang couldn’t help but let out a small hmph of a laugh. “We can continue adding messages to it, over time, so when you come back you can…” 

Xunfeng shook his head. “Never mind. I truly don’t know what to say today, but Shangque insisted on setting this up as soon as we heard about the spell. He couldn’t wait to speak to you, as much as this even counts as such.”

And then Xunfeng bowed his head, and as soon as he’d appeared, he vanished; his form dispersing into a swarm of blue spheres. 

The blue spheres began to reform, this time into the familiar, comforting shape of Shangque. He bowed to them.

“I think… there are a lot of these,” Xiao Lanhua said. Dongfang Qingcang inhaled and nodded. “Do you want to watch right now?”

He frowned, but took her hand in his and rubbed circles over the top of it. “Yes, I think we must.”

[Greetings my Lord and Lady.

It has been so long since we’ve seen you. Every day Cangyan Sea rebuilds, and every day, the people carry on with your sacrifice in their hearts and minds. 

We are safe, and we continue to be safe. Yunmeng Lake, Shuiyuntian, and Xishan are also safe. I’ve long since recovered my lost cultivation, and I can freely transform again. It’s much easier to help move construction materials when I’m able to do so in my dragon form. The capital looks beautiful once more. 

The Moon Tribe thrives, but we miss both of you.]

[The King of Nanyou abdicated the throne recently. He never did fully recover after what happened to him… that day when he was nearly killed by the… entity. God, I wish we had a fucking name for it.

Anyway, his son inherited the position, and he is insufferable. He’s like you, but if you were stupid and a bad tactician. He does listen to me most of the time though, which is more than I expected. 

Recovery has been hard, but we have managed. I’m not sure what you did, but the people are thriving. Even in places where it seems like it’s impossible for crops to grow, they have enough to eat. It’s made it easier than I expected. 

But they still miss you. I’ve ruled Cangyan Sea for so long, but I’ll never be you in their eyes. 

Or… her. 

I met someone recently. I’m not telling you anything about them though. You’ll just have to return and find out for yourself. ]

[I feel strange doing this. I know that we are friends, companions even. Xiao Lanhua, Dongfang Qingcang, over the centuries after Taisui was defeated, you two became the unlikeliest constants in my life. But I’m not your brother, and I’m not your best friend and lieutenant. I’m just a wayward immortal from Shuiyuntian. 

After you two left, I had to go through three mortal tribulations before my primordial spirit was fully recovered. I had more fun as Xiao Run than I did in any of those.

You would not believe how different Shuiyuntian looks now. So much of it was destroyed, and it turns out that rebuilding a city in the air is extremely difficult. I had no choice but to stay in the immortal realm for all that time. My assistance was needed for the rebuilding. 

Your Arbiter Hall remains intact though, you will be happy to know. 

Xiao Lanhua, Creeper does her job wonderfully. You would be proud of how hard a worker she is and how efficient she is with the destiny books. She even has her own apprentice now. You would like her. 

It has been so long. I hope for the sake of not just me, but for the three realms, that we can see you both again soon.]

[ Cangyan Sea is so hot lately. It’s getting hotter and hotter and it’s weird and a little frightening. No one really wants to talk about it, but the Dark Pine Forest is a lot smaller than it was even a few centuries ago. 

Shangque and I have taken to letting the kids take a dip in the cold stream every day, because they complain otherwise. The only upside is that there’s a lot of business in helping people beat the heat. A girl’s got to take advantage of opportunities that come her way, right? 

Especially because we’ll have another mouth to feed soon. Because yeah, I got pregnant. We didn't plan on having any kids, as I told you before. Adopting was fine for us, but it just… happened. 

I was hoping that since Shangque is a dragon, I might just… lay an egg, but I’m not so lucky. I think I got the worst of both worlds. Did you know dragon eggs take an average of sixty years to hatch? 

I’ve been pregnant for forty-five years. I think the help of a goddess of life and healing might be the only way I can get through this. Do you think you could throw us a bone and wake up? ]

[My Lord, my Lady, I can’t wait for you to meet our new son.] 

[I’m here for my sister. She’s been convalescing at home for the past century. According to her, giving birth to a half dragon is more difficult than giving birth to a human. Well, she might be right. I have no idea. That kid never stops screaming though, so maybe she’s onto something. 

Me on the other hand, you know I’m the god of war, but you’ll be happy to know I haven’t had much actual work to do the last several thousand years. Mostly I just train troops for Shuiyuntian. 

I met a girl by the way. We’ve been together a long time now. We actually first met during what turned out to be her mortal tribulation. She teases me about the fact that I have white hair like my father. Jieli teases me about that too. ]

[That bastard Yunzhong is finally stepping down. I’m glad he’s gone, but just imagining him having a peaceful retirement gets under my skin. I expected his father would have returned from seclusion long ago, but at this point I’m wondering if he died. 

Sansheng is taking his place. She seems to be an improvement. 

Yunzhong was never scared of me. I think it was only the threat of you and the Moon Queen’s return that has kept him in line all these years. He should have been scared of himself though. In the end it was his own hubris that brought him down. ]

[I’m sure you’ve already seen how much the terrain of Cangyan Sea has changed since your departure. Shuiyuntian is the same, of course. We’re desert and sea now. It’s so different from before…

Xishan remains the same. It’s as green and untouched as ever. 

My older brother wanted to use it. He was insistent on claiming the land for Shuiyuntian, even though we are doing fine with the resources we have and what we acquire via trade. He’s never been the most reasonable person. According to him it was just sitting there, ripe for the taking. 

We never did start getting along again after… you know, but this made it so much worse. It’s also the closest we’ve come to war since you two left.

Xiao Lanhua, your people were willing to do anything to protect Xishan. They really do love you. Both realms are lucky there was not much blood spilled. It ended up blowing up in my brother’s face, and he was forced to abdicate the throne. 

It feels like… that’s the right result. I do not know if my father will ever return from seclusion. If he does, he can retake the throne, but in the meantime, the three realms are better off with Lady Sansheng.]

[Moon Queen, our son is already well into adulthood. Are we going to have to have another baby to get you to come back?

Ha. No, even for your return, I’m not going through that again.

We miss you.]

[Our people are migrating. They’re building a beautiful city near Memory Loss River. My Lord, there is a lake there that never empties. It’s the power of our Goddess and Moon Queen that keeps it full. Our crops grow, our lakes refill, and flowers even bloom. 

But I do miss the forest. I miss flying over it and the smell of the trees and the cooler weather. I got to teach my son to fly, but the view had nothing in common with the one I had when I first learned how to do so. He’s just had his first daughter, by the way, so I am a grandfather.

Jieli is getting older. So am I.]

[Moon Supreme, I think your brother should move the capital. I know it’s not my place, but most of the population has long since moved to the settlement near Memory Loss River. The business there is so much better too. I always thought he should have hired me on as a financial advisor, but I’d probably have turned down the position anyway. 

Xiao Lanhua, you know an immortal like me, one that doesn’t have the highest cultivation in the world, only lives about one hundred thousand years. I don’t have forever. 

Sure, there are ways to strengthen my primordial spirit and prolong my lifespan so I’ll live as long as Shangque, but dragons don’t live forever either. ]

[I have no children, and at this point, I know I never will. I have trained someone to take over as Moon Supreme when the time comes. She’s precocious and powerful, a distant cousin of our family. She will make us proud. When the time comes, I will make sure tradition is honored and she will defeat me in battle. 

I hope that she doesn’t ever have to take the throne. I hope you come back before she does. 

Shangque and I commissioned a silk painting of the two of you. It’s only right that your presence remains in the palace, even now.  

I’m going to move the capital. The area around Silent Moon Palace is almost uninhabited now. You have to travel a couple hours to even get to a settlement. I wondered if doing this would make you angry, but it’s no matter. I need to stop thinking about what you would want. 

You are long gone. I want to believe you will return, but I just don’t know if I can. Shangque remains faithful. He believes with his whole body and soul that you will, but I’m not him, nor will I ever be. ]

[ My Lord, since I was a child, abandoned and left to die, you have always been my best friend.

My Lady, your kindness and bravery saved my lord and made him what he is now. You are also my precious friend. 

I have so many grandchildren now, great grandchildren too. Our family is larger than you can imagine. All the children we adopted have grown up and are living their own lives. They have children and their children have children. Jieli remains ever the same, which is exactly what I have always hoped for.

I am living a life I never could have dreamed of, but I wish, more than anything else in the three realms, that you two were beside me to share it with. 

I hope you understand what, even in your absence, you two have done for this kingdom. My Lord, your Glazed Fire blazes through the ground along with the powers of the Xishan goddess, but it does not burn anything. It keeps us safe. It protects our lands. 

We are at peace, and yes, that is because Shuiyuntian has not initiated a full scale war with us, but it’s also because Cangyan Sea is a land that will rise up against you if you attempt to attack its people. Mountains would move to stop an enemy force from entering our capital, if it was necessary. You did that.  

You are still out there, and I know you two will return someday, but I pray that I am able to be there for it. Even if I am but an old bedridden dragon on that day, just seeing you again would be enough. ]

[Xiao Lanhua, my friend, Dongfang Qingcang… my confidant. Even in Shuiyuntian, I will never let anyone forget what you did for the world, no matter if I am long gone from it. All of us are better for having met each other.]

[You might be a goddess and the queen of Cangyan Sea, but in my heart, you’ll always be the gullible little fairy that came to my shop. Thank you for annoying your way into my heart. And Moon Supreme? You’re not so bad either.]

[It’s time for me to leave. I’m sorry, but I can’t wait any longer. Do you know how long I’ve ruled this kingdom? No, no you have no idea, do you? 

I didn’t think that the day I agreed with that plan, I’d be agreeing to… this. 

But it doesn’t matter. Of course I’d still have done it. The other option was unfathomable. 

Almost all your life, all you’ve done is sleep. Moon Queen, you are no different. I know I have no right to be angry at you. I know you’d have come back by now if you could. I know that if you ever do come back, you’ll probably return to a world without anyone you knew and loved. Those of us alive now are not the only ones who will suffer because of this. 

But it doesn’t mean that sometimes I don’t feel like tearing down that silk painting in the hall. 

I’m too old to continue ruling, and my chosen replacement has been ready for tens of thousands of years. 

I am not handing her the throne though. I’m dissolving the title of Moon Supreme. I’m sealing Silent Moon Palace away, and I am going to spend the rest of my life free of its fetters. 

This world I live in now doesn’t need Xunfeng, Moon Supreme of Cangyan Sea, nor does it need his protege. She will govern over Cangyan Sea in a new role, from the capital city 

The Moon Supreme and his Moon Queen are a thing of the past, of myth and folklore and legend. I’ve feebly carried the banner the past thousands of years, but here in Silent Moon Palace, so far away from where the people now live, there wasn’t much to do. 

There is only one person that this palace will allow itself open to, only one person allowed to reinstate the title of Moon Supreme. Well, two actually, since the Moon Queen has the same power. You are the only ones for which this title should be revived, the only ones that hold rights to it. 

I only know that now you are both buried deep in the earth of the mortal realm, and that I don’t think that will ever change. But if it does, if you ever come here and see this message, you should hear me say that… regardless of everything, you were my one and only family for most of my life. I hate that I spent immeasurable years longer as acting Moon Supreme than you did, and that despite that you’re still considered the hope of the Moon Tribe. Though I get it; you two saved the world after all, over and over. 

But I made mistakes, and you forgave me. You both saw me as your brother, and treated me with the respect that warranted. For that, I will always be thankful. ]

[As long as there is a moon in the sky, the three realms will remember my Lord, Dongfang Qingcang, and my Lady, Xiao Lanhua, the Goddess of Xishan. Thank you, and I love you.] 

Shangque bowed, and then his figure vanished, like blue smoke into the ether. The glowing spheres of light dissipated, and the vast room was left silent once more. 

Except for the sound of crying; Xiao Lanhua’s soft hiccuping sniffles and Dongang Qingcang’s deep shuddering, as they clung to each other like lifelines. 

It had been hours and hours and dozens, no hundreds of messages, left behind by the vestiges of their friends, their companions, their family. They’d watched time pass in front of their very eyes. They’d watched clothes change and heard about the seismic shifts the three realms had gone through, and they’d watched those they loved… age . 

Immortal was a misnomer. Very long lived was not the same thing as forever. 

In his heart, Dongfang Qingcang knew that no matter what, he’d have outlasted most of those he cared for. Not much was known about true immortals like himself; where they came from, why they were born. Those who had the propensity for ancient magic like he held, and those who had souls and bodies strong enough to withstand being a vessel for Taisui, were a mystery of existence. 

He was only lucky that the woman he fell in love with was the Goddess of Xishan. She was likely the only woman in the three realms who had the capacity for cultivation that he had, a spirit and body burning bright enough to live a life as long as he could naturally live. As Moon Supreme and Moon Queen, it was their obligation to live as long as possible. 

But, he still fully expected that he and Xiao Lanhua would have spent this vast spread of their lives, all one hundred thousand, even two hundred thousand years (he did not know when his friends and family actually passed, for they left their last messages before that time), with them by their sides. 

Instead he’d had to watch them live their lives, grow older, and move on, leaving them and their Silent Moon Palace behind, all within the span of a few hours.

It ached. It throbbed in his chest, and he knew for a fact it had been over a millennia since he’d felt grief greater than this. Not since… 

He shuddered. But Xiao Lanhua was here now. 

A loud sniffle, and Xiao Lanhua glanced up and pulled away from him, just a bit, to meet his eyes. His own were watery, and in his vision, she was blurred, but he could see a wan smile on her face. 

“I’m really glad they did that,” she said. Her voice was a bit raspy, but sturdy. 

Dongfang Qingcang nodded. “Me too.” 

Xiao Lanhua laughed, quiet and awkward. “I’m um… a little hungry.” 

And he smiled, small and gentle, and just barely, pinched one of her cheeks. “Xiaohuayao, even now?”

“It’s been hours!” 

He moved his hand to cup her face. “I know.”

She pressed her forehead to his. “And then while we eat… I want to go upstairs, to the highest tower, and look at the stars.”

“Why so?” He raised his eyebrows, curious, and the motion tickled Xiao Lanhua’s forehead. 

She shook her head. “The past couple of days have been so much. I’m not sure… how long it will take my heart to stop hurting.” She shuddered. “It’s strange, but I feel bigger than everything, bigger than the world, bigger than everyone. I’ve been the goddess for so long, the Moon Queen for even longer, but I’ve never really considered myself… as important as everything we’ve seen makes me seem.” She shook her head. “I’m just Xiao Lanhua.” 

“That’s ridiculous. There is no ‘just’ about you,” Dongfang Qingcang replied. 

She let out a hmph. “I knew you’d say something like that.”

“It’s a compliment.”

“I know.” She sighed. “Even when I was a little girl my parents raised me just as if I were a normal kid. I knew I was important, and there were lessons and sometimes ceremonies because of that, but I was also just another child growing up in Xishan.”

Dongfang Qingcang had spent his whole life being viewed as more important than everyone else, more powerful than everyone else, and it wasn’t until Xiao Lanhua came along and acted as if he were her equal, just a sinful immortal who talked big but still brought her morning dew and counted every flower in her greenhouse, that that changed. He couldn’t relate to ever feeling normal, but he thought perhaps he understood what she meant by the overwhelming hugeness of everything at the moment. 

“I think I know what you mean…”

“Really?” 

“Mm,” he said. “The feeling that every part of our existence echoes through Cangyan Sea. The way they speak of us, both the people living in our realm now, and our… companions of the past. It’s heady and strange. Feeling our power within the land itself?”

 “It’s almost overwhelming.” She patted his cheek. “Yes, you do get it! And… maybe it wouldn’t be bad, but I also feel… helpless.” She frowned. “Despite all that, we’re alone, and we couldn’t control any of this.”

“It was our wills though.” 

Xiao Lanhua bit her lip and sighed. “I know, but if we had more control over it… maybe we could have….”

Dongfang Qingcang shook his head and clasped his hands around hers between them. “No, we couldn’t. If we truly did not wake up until the seal was set, then neither of us would have been willing to do so before. You know that’s not a risk we would take.”

She glanced down and nodded. He was right, of course. “I wanted to see the stars because they’re something bigger than we could ever be. I want to feel small again, for just a bit. Small and helpless is less frustrating than big and helpless.” 

And he stood up, brushing off his front and pulling her to her feet alongside him. He held out his hand in a manner she’d always found very charming, and she couldn’t help a small smile. Her face was not completely free of tears, and while his appeared to be by now, she could still spot tear tracks on his cheeks. “Then let’s go see the stars.” 

She took his hand and squeezed. As they walked out of the throne room, they stopped for a moment in front of the silk painting and once again took it in, now aware of its context, its age. A pang echoed through both their hearts. 

“Why did it take so long?” she asked, her voice soft and indistinct.

“I do not know,” was all he could reply with. 

The man at the oasis was right; the top of Silent Moon Palace really did offer the most breathtaking starscape in the three realms. It wasn’t the highest point in the three realms, but the only time they’d seen a more expansive view of the sky was when they’d visited Siming in the Destruction of Heaven. 

It was even brighter now. There was no civilization within hours, no lights dotting the ground below. There were no ships in the salty bay that lapped against the rear of the palace. In fact, the sea level had fallen to the point that they could only see the shore, just barely, in the far distance beyond a further expanse of desert. 

“This is the first time in so long that I’ve seen a desert moon,” Dongfang Qingcang mused. Xiao Lanhua handed him some of the dried fruit they’d been sharing. She wasn’t sure how long they’d been up there; hours, maybe. 

“When was the last?” Xiao Lanhua asked, finishing a bun as she did so. He reached over and flicked a crumb off her cheek, a fond smile crossing his features. 

The moon was massive, glowing bright and almost full. The stars sparkled like gems, and there were so many that Xiao Lanhua thought she could see forever; like even if she had eternity to travel among the stars and visit every single one, she still wasn’t sure she could do it. 

“Over thirty thousand years ago,” he replied. “Or… thirty thousand years ago for us, back when I fought Chidi and Shuiyuntian.” 

“The Xuanxu Realm…” 

He nodded. His legs hung over the edge of the precipice of the palace, his arms spread out beside him and his hands pressed against the cool stone of the floor. 

It was cold. Nights in the desert were chilly, they both knew this, but thousands of feet up in the air, that was intensified. Xiao Lanhua leaned against him, finding herself seeking his warmth, and he moved his arm to wrap around her shoulders. 

“The stars do look different,” he said. “I will have to learn to navigate with this new sky.” 

“Maybe they have something to make that easier now too,” Xiao Lanhua murmured against his shoulder. 

“Perhaps,” Dongfang Qingcang replied. He ran a hand idly through her hair. “Do you feel better now?”

“A little, I think.” 

“We can stay up here as long as you’d like, I don’t mind.” His voice rumbled near her ear and Xiao Lanhua exhaled, feeling soothed by it. 

“Mm,” she acknowledged, then after a few moment’s silence, she pushed away from him. He raised his eyebrows in curiosity as she turned to face him, then coaxed him to do the same. 

In the night, amidst the vast starscape and the golden moon, she stared at him. It was quiet up here, so quiet, the only sound being their breathing and the slight rustling of their clothes. 

His eyes sparkled in the night, warm, soft brown with a flash of starlight. The braid she’d done his hair up in had stayed put, although there were plenty of tendrils that had come loose. The gold jewelry in his hair glimmered, as did the embroidery on his deep blue coat. She liked it so much. His expression was pensive, questing, his lips set in a curious line. 

“You look beautiful,” she finally said, and her voice was so warm, so fond, that his heart felt as if it stopped for a moment. 

Dongfang Qingcang exhaled deeply, and let out a short, quiet laugh. “What brought this on?” 

She shook her head and smiled. “Nothing… I’m just– so happy I’m here with you.” 

He placed his hand on the back of her head and pulled her toward him. 

She closed the distance between them, pressing their lips together and moving her fingers up, past his ear and into this thick, black hair. He gasped at her fingernails on his scalp and deepened the kiss, flicking his tongue into her mouth and cupping her cheek and chin in his hand.

They stayed like that for a moment, a minute, who knew (time felt strange now), before they pulled apart. 

Xiao Lanhua’s eyes were glittering, and her lips were swollen pink. She let out a light laugh and took a deep breath. “I think… I think I want to go see Arbiter Hall now.” 

Dongfang Qingcang smiled, his own lips still burning with her touch. “Let’s go then.”

They had no idea what time it was. By their estimate, it was the middle of the night, but there was no sign of the wan of twilight, nor was it yet the blue hour. 

In the deep night, the palace felt emptier than ever. Not even ghosts remained. Dongfang Qingcang’s Glazed Fire warmed them as they made their way back down the myriad stairs and into the throne room. 

“Are you ready?” he asked. 

She nodded. “Yes. I’m ready.”

He snapped his fingers, and the silver smoke formed once again into the shape of a grassy meadow and a familiar building. It burst into color, and there was exactly what they had left it at when they were using the spell before; the strange, new version of Arbiter Hall in Xishan. 

Xiao Lanhua took a deep breath, and then said with conviction, “Show me Arbiter Hall.” 

It was the last remainder of before that she had yet to see, had yet to find out if it still stood. It had been her home for most of her life, and to this day, despite the fact that she’d trained an apprentice, she viewed it as her responsibility. Her Master, Siming, had entrusted it to her back when she’d been such a young fairy, and she’d held it steadfast to her heart since. 

The tendrils of smoke like magic dissipated and reformed, and Xiao Lanhua squinted as she tried to make out what she was seeing before color bled into it. The shape was familiar, just as she remembered, but the sky behind it was… darker? Mottled?

In the flicker of a moment before it burst into color, Xiao Lanhua had a realization. She’d seen that sky before; only a couple times, when she’d been lucky enough to visit, but…

“This is the Destruction of Heaven,” she gasped, and color exploded in front of her. The galaxies and planets and endless vivid hues that made up the realm in which her Master had been exiled. And right in front of her eyes, lit with hundreds of candles, was her Master’s own Arbiter Hall. 

“C-closer,” Xiao Lanhua commanded. “Where’s my Arbiter Hall? How is Master still…”

“Siming…?” Dongfang Qingcang questioned, his voice low. “You still live?”

And indeed, she emerged onto the platform of her Arbiter Hall, her long, cream gown trailing behind her and a wry smile on her face. She looked not a day older than when they’d last seen her, hundreds of thousands of years ago. And she stared right at them. 

“Do you think the arbiter of fate itself would not still be around?” she let out a short laugh and did not wait for them to answer. “Xiao Lanhua, Dongfang Qingcang, you have no idea how glad I am to see you again.”