Chapter Text
Xie Lian knows all about letting go. That is what he would like to think, at least. He has lived for 800 years, after all, and that is a long time to get used to people leaving; either by their own impulse, fate or death. Sometimes abandoning him, sometimes saying proper good-byes. Sometimes, they did not have time for either, passing too early.
It is easy to let go of others when others are quick to let go of yourself. When fate is playing a game, making every parting look inevitable. And that had been the case for many years.
Now there is Hua Cheng. Now there are continuous reunions with certain two generals.
And yet, now there is no Shi Qingxuan.
There is no Shi Qingxuan, and in another time, he would let go. That is a matter of fate, after all.
But he does not believe in fate anymore. He has been at peace with its tricks for far too long.
So here he is, in the imperial capital, breathing in humid air, his brand new bamboo hat lowered to protect him from the sun.
He is familiar with the streets. With their bustling liveliness, and their quiet misery. With the vendor’ calls, and with the silence of beggars. In the world within, you can blend into the crowd. In the world within, finding a mortal being is even beyond a god’s power.
This is what Shi Qingxuan chose. And now, Xie Lian does not dwell on it, for he made the same decision once. He cannot find Shi Qingxuan and at first, he is not worried.
Until.
He passes a Water Master’s temple and stops. Once ostentatious, now it is a shadow of the place it used to be. The gold of the ornaments seems to have been scraped off even before the fire had a chance to cover it with smoke. The lettering at the top of the entrance is no more.
He steps in, taking his hat off, and welcoming the darkness inside. There are ashes on the floor, and remnants of flashy decor scattered here and there.
Xie Lian is not sure what he hopes to find. He looks up to meet the unmoving gaze of an image of Shi Wudu carved in stone. Would Shi Qingxuan hide here, at the feet of statues portraying a well-known figure? Would they, once again, seek comfort in their brother’s shadow, even so desacralised?
They have not talked about it a lot, in the aftermath. Xie Lian thinks of their previous encounters, of the quiet conversations under one of many capital’s bridges. It was almost a year ago, summer as well, the light breeze having nothing to do with the presence of Shi Qingxuan, but the relief it brought genuine either way. A silly thought entered Xie Lian’s mind. Nature did not need them. The empty vacancy of the Wind’s deity had not changed much down there, in the mortals’ world, the status quo preserved as if the tale of the Shi siblings was merely a myth. Maybe Shi Qinxuan thought of it too, as they turned their face in the wind’s direction, not mindful of the hair covering their face.
“I think you’re in need of a hairpin,” Xie Lian said then, and Shi Qingxuan shook their head with a small smile.
“Not a lot of use in looking all pretty now,” they said, their voice smaller than usual.
“Madam Tao,” Xie Lian replied.
“What about her?”
She was one of the beggars in Shi Qingxuan’s group, who used to be a courtesan, famous for her beauty and artistic talent. She got older, if forty seven years was actually old by mortals’ standards, her face gained a few wrinkles, a single lock of hair got grey. She was still childless by the time her husband died, and the first wife together with her son threw her out of the mansion the very next day. One would think a woman like her would not survive on the streets. And yet, she remained as proud as ever, guarding her little possession fiercely.
“She doesn’t have a reason either, but she still combs her hair everyday, and even puts makeup on…” Xie Lian noticed. It was a lot of effort, for sure, to do it only with the river for a mirror, and using little money she had on powder rather than an extra portion of congee. But it made her feel better, Xie Lian knew, more confident. And for people like him, like Shi Qingxuan, a chance to make their appearance match their heart would probably mean even more than for an ex-courtesan.
“You’re right. But she has a body for it, and I…” Shi Qingxuan started, and laughed out silly, as if they realised that they were too honest for their own taste. “Now, don’t focus on nonsense like that, your Highness. Care to share another bun?”
Xie Lian nodded, and passed the snack into their hands.
He would not push, no. But he saw the longing in Shi Qingxuan’s eyes, when they looked at the women passing the street, as the ladies walked hand in hand. And he could not help, but feel for them, because they were so similar.
Shi Qingxuan changed the topic promptly, talking about the street performance they saw the other day. Xie Lian replied with an anecdote that made them laugh, nothing close to what their cheerfulness used to be.
Next time, Xie Lian came with a hairpin, jade earrings and a set of green robes. He remembers choosing them and struggling, as he did not consider himself to have any taste in fashion whatsoever. Yet, he recalled the trends of Xian Le, and what Mu Qing and Shi Qingxuan themself used to say about hanfu, and he did his best.
They were not too fancy, but they were feminine, and they made Shi Qingxuan’s sigh with delight.
“They match the jades so well,” they added, and teased: “You should have mentioned that you were so adept in these matters earlier, dear prince.”
They liked the hairpin, too, a fragile silver thing with a strand of leaves that moved along with their hair as the wind got stronger in autumn.
“I could not thank you enough, your Highness,” they said.
“It’s nothing. We’re friends after all,” Xie Lian replied. He was so pleased with the outcome, with the little comfort he could offer them.
He was dumb for it, and he knows it now, as his eyes catch the glittering piece in the temple’s corner.
It lies there, a broken piece of jewellery, the leaves shattered as if someone stomped on them with malice. It makes him think of a broken fan, when he looks up at the headless statue of Shi Wudu. He does not know if he should laugh or cry.
He walks out of the temple, trying to find any other traces of Shi Qingxuan. He does not find any.
He comes back to the place everyday for a week, and asks around. The little group of beggars that Shi Qingxuan gathered has scattered around the city, as if the only force pulling them together was his friend. No one seems to know anything, all shrugs and head shakes.
“Young Master, you always brought something with you, didn't you? You’re wearing this hat, but you’re no farmer. You’ve got money, we know it. And Ol’ Feng was getting worse and worse, a bit crazy, if you ask me… Why didn’t you just take him with you?” One of the beggars asks. It is a genuine question, no venom in his voice.
“They wouldn’t let me,” he says. I made the same decision once, he does not say. Except now he is not so sure of how much of it was a decision, and cannot recall if he ever actually asked Shi Qingxuan if they would accept real help. And he feels angry, and tired. He moves on to the next person who could know something, anything.
He finds Madam Tao in a brothel. A young girl leads him to a room where she is doing laundry, hair pinned up as high as always.
“I don’t serve any clients, obviously, '' she says, even though Xie Lian did not ask. She looks up, a flash of recognition going through her face. “Ah, it’s you, I remember you, boy. I haven’t seen A’Feng, no.”
Xie Lian waits, standing in the door frame awkwardly and holding to his hat. He knows the ex-courtesan likes chatting.
“Nearly half a year, sweetheart… The streets are rough, you know how it is, I wouldn’t expect to see any more of her. She didn’t have the health to work, that one, did she… That leg… And her mind, something was consuming her, eating her up alive, I could tell... A bit mad, your A’Feng. Poor thing. She could have come here otherwise. The gods must be cruel, to leave a girl so lovely to rot.” Madam Tao goes on, adding more soap to the water. Xie Lian does not entertain her with a response, as she is obviously rambling, she is wrong-
He leaves the beggars alone.
They let go of Shi Qingxuan so easily, he thinks. And yet Xie Lian, a god of hundreds years, cannot.
He should have power beyond these mortals. And here he is, with no solutions on his mind, going back home with empty hands.
Mortals are of no help. He is out of ideas, too. Heavens, that is.
***
No one really cares about the ex-Lady Wind Master in the Heavens, he finds, as he mentions the situation to Feng Xin and Mu Qing. They both shrug it off, telling Xie Lian that he should focus on himself for once, instead of looking for trouble.
Maybe Madam Tao was right, after all.
But if anyone, he presumes Shi Wudu’s friends would care about Shi Qingxuan’s whereabouts. That is the reasoning that makes him visit the Martial God of the North. He makes himself comfortable in his palace, the man surprised, albeit happy to receive him. And so he recounts the recent events to the general, observing the change in his mood.
Pei Ming sighs, his expression unusually solemn.
“Chances are, they’re already dead, your highness.” He is sipping alcohol. It’s only noon.
“Dead?” Xie Lian repeats. “It has been only a couple of years…” Shi Qingxuan’s body is around 20 years old, if he is right. That is too young for mortals to die.
“Your highness, I know that you think… Highly of Shi Qingxuan,” the official exclaims, not as subtle in his message as he is probably hoping to be. His face reveals the quiet judgement.
“Highly,” Xie Lian repeats again, scolding himself internally. “Shi Qingxuan is hundreds of years old, surely they would be able to…” Xie Lian stops talking to himself, not sure what to say. Survive? That is what it was about, wasn’t it? Survival, merely keeping themself alive on the streets.
“Shi Qingxuan is a child. They were never, in their life, left to take care of themself. There had always been someone keeping an eye on them–“
Xie Lian is not listening anymore. Keeping themself alive, he repeats in his mind, mouthing the words to himself. Because then he remembers the quiet pledge.
I want to die, Shi Qingxuan said back then.
Xie Lian made the same decision once. And yet, he clenches his fist around the broken hairpin.
***
He is back home, at the Paradise Manor. Somehow, he cannot find peace even here. So he is pacing, and shaking his hands, and trying n o t to chew on his sleeve, or, worse, on Ruoye.
“Gege?” he hears and snaps out of his thoughts immediately, standing in place. He wraps his hands together.
“Yes, San Lang?”
“You’ve been restless lately, gege,” Hua Cheng says, coming into the room. He would look regal as always, if not for a trace of worry on his face.
“Ah? Everything is alright, San Lang… Everything is alright with me…” Xie Lian says, smiling a bit nervously. He does not want to bother Hua Cheng with his own concerns, least of all concerns that he has about other people. Especially when he is aware his husband is hardly keen on anyone other than him. And as far as he remembers, he was not really sympathetic towards Shi Qingxuan either.
He would help if Xie Lian asked him, of course, but that would still be about Xie Lian, for Xie Lian, not anyone else. Hua Cheng is not inclined to care more about those his lover considers dear to his heart. There is no particular jealousy in that, no, more of an assumption that they do not deserve his highness’ attention. And Xie Lian does not want to get into that, not now.
Xie Lian does not want to use his husband according to his own morals, either.
And then, there is He Xuan. No matter what Hua Cheng says, he knows that they are friends.
Xie Lian is staring at his hands again, thinking.
“Gege, whatever it is, you know that you can tell me about it, right?” Hua Cheng asks. Xie Lian shakes his head, and then realises it could have come across wrong, and so nods right after.
“San Lang… I appreciate that, but this… This is about Shi Qingxuan.”
There is a moment of silence, and Hua Cheng moves to him, grasping his hand in his own gently.
“Wind Master is your friend,” he begins softly. He is rubbing his palm now; then, touching his fingers, one by one.
“There is no Wind Master,” Xie Lian replies, his voice hitching a bit before he takes a deep breath. His hand twitches too.
“Gege, they might not be a heavenly official anymore–“
“Oh, no, San Lang… That’s not what I meant,” he says, because, for a moment, he forgot that Shi Qingxuan did not hold that title anymore either. “Shi Qingxuan is gone. I don’t know where they are.”
He tells Hua Cheng of the past week, resenting that he has to live through all the uncertainty again. Hua Cheng pulls him closer, wrapping his arms around him.
“Gege, do you want me to...?”
“Do you think he…? No, San Lang, I don’t want to involve him. But you would tell me, if he had anything to do with it, right?” Xie Lian says, shaking his head.
Here is a thing about He Xuan. He knows that He Xuan and Shi Qingxuan have history, and he tries to respect it, but then… There is history between Shi Qingxuan and Xie Lian too, a much happier one, and he does not want to lose it. He also does not want to bother Black Water, when he likely has nothing to do with the whole situation. His revenge plan has already been executed, after all. There is no reason to reopen the closed wounds, Xie Lian reasons.
“I don’t think he has, gege,” Hua Cheng confirms his assumptions.
“Good. Then let’s take care of it without him, alright?” Xie Lian says, a bit more hopeful.
“Alright,” his husband agrees and places a kiss on his forehead.
Maybe not all is lost.
***
If the mortals and gods don’t know anything, the dead should. Hua Cheng proposes to ask the low-ranked ghosts in the area.
They are not very enthusiastic to talk to Xie Lian, but as soon as Crimson Rain shows up behind his back, they start to sing out the answers.
“Shi Xuan is dead,” one of them utters, and disappears before Xie Lian manages to blink. Hua Cheng wants to go after them. Xie Lian grabs his hand.
“No bother, they’re obviously wrong,” he lies to himself, but also wonders about the usage of his friend’s birth name. It is becoming a pattern.
They question a couple of other ghosts, but none of them are very helpful, only mentioning that they heard the name, or saying that Shi Qingxuan is among the dead.
By the end of the night, they have more questions than answers.
Xie Lian searches for the hairpin hidden in his robes, while gazing in the dead night, and waiting for his lover to come back from the hunt of the last of the Wraths in the area. And this is when it strikes him, as he takes another look at the shattered silver leaves, still unfixed.
The Xian Le prince does not cry often, not since his kingdom fell, not since he thought he learned all about grief and misery. But now he can feel the sting in his eyes, and the tears building up behind his eyelids when he closes them.
“Gege. Easy,” he hears the voice before he hears the steps.
Why didn’t you take him with you?, the beggar’s repeats in his mind.
The gods must be cruel, Madam Tao adds.
His lover’s hands cover his own before he digs his nails into them.
“San Lang… San Lang, do you think it’s my fault?” he asks, trying to keep his voice steady. “They’re dead, aren’t they? And it’s my doing.”
“Of course it’s not,” Hua Cheng cuts in.
Xie Lian shakes his head, looking up at him.
“The hairpin… I gave them these robes, and the earrings, but I never asked if they would like to come with me. I assumed… They were the same as I was, you know? But no one asked me either. No one asked me. And they had nothing too, on the streets, just the hanfu, the jades, wouldn’t it make them a target? I made them a walking target, San Lang.”
His husband doesn’t interrupt him this time, letting Xie Lian talk, even when his tone gets more frantic, eventually turning into sobbing.
“I made a mistake, San Lang.”
There is a hand in his hair, and the lightest touch of lips on his forehead. He tries to focus on this feeling so much that he doesn’t notice that they’re back in the manor until Hua Cheng makes him sit on the bed and kneels in front of him.
“They wouldn’t go with you, gege. You know they wouldn’t. And this,” he unlocks Xie Lian’s hand to grasp the hairpin. “can be fixed. I promise you. We will find them.”
Xie Lian wants to thank him, he really does, but he finds that no words can escape his mouth. All he can do is to encourage the hug and hide face in his husband’s arms. He cries until he is lulled into sleep like a child.
He hopes to see Shi Qingxuan in his sleep, as a sign, or maybe the last goodbye.
His rest is dreamless.
***
The other side of the bed is empty when he wakes up, but he can feel his husband’s presence. He opens his eyes to the dim lights of the candle, and Hua Cheng’s gentle smile.
“I found them.”
That is enough to make Xie Lian wake up. He sits up, letting Hua Cheng to caress his hair lovingly.
“Let’s go then,” he pleads. He knows San Lang would rather he took care of himself first, but this is no time for that.
“One more thing, gege.”
He follows Hua Cheng’s gaze.
There is a hairpin on the bedside, he notices. Unbroken.