Chapter Text
The next morning, Xie Lian realized that he still had San Lang’s white cloak. It was covered in mud, just like the robes he’d borrowed from Shi Qingxuan. He felt this sick feeling in his belly, like he was shrinking in on himself. Like he was a horrible friend, a horrible person in general. Maybe if he curled up in a small enough ball, he could disappear.
Although Xie Lian did his best to wash the clothes, the cloak remained stained. Some things could never be white and pure again, he thought. Shi Qingxuan’s robes fared better, thankfully. By some miracle, Xie Lian managed not to tear the fabric. The colors seemed less vibrant than before, but maybe Shi Qingxuan wouldn’t notice. Speaking of his dragon friend, Xie Lian hadn’t seen them again since before he’d gone to meet San Lang. He hoped that they were alright.
Xie Lian got dressed in his usual worn white robes - none of the splendor of the day before - and resolved to go check on Shi Qingxuan before starting on his chores. When he went to the dining room, he found breakfast set out on the table, but there was no sign of Shi Qingxuan. This was odd, because usually they ate together in the mornings. The congee was still warm, so it couldn’t have been there for too long.
Growing worried about his friend, Xie Lian ate the meal quickly, then grabbed a steamed bun and left to go look for them. He didn’t know where to start in such a big manor. As he walked through the halls, which were even more eerily quiet than usual, he ate bites of the bun. Xie Lian didn’t see any sign of Shi Qingxuan, and wandered out into the courtyard. Had Bai Wuxiang done something to them as punishment for helping Xie Lian leave the manor? Knowing Bai Wuxiang’s cruelty, he certainly hoped not. He didn’t think he would ever be able to forgive himself.
The sky was as gray as ever, and Xie Lian peered around the courtyard to see if his friend was there. Suddenly, a giant, dark shape arced over Xie Lian’s head, blocking out the light. It gracefully landed on the cobblestone in front of him. He was so shocked that the bun fell out of his hand, and he glanced down at it forlornly.
Standing before him was a huge white dragon with pearly scales, body long and elegant. His horns were pitted and twisted like coral, his eyes blue, deep as the sea. It was Shi Qingxuan’s older brother and Bai Wuxiang’s servant, as well as his personal mount. Shi Wudu. Xie Lian’s eyes darted to the dragon’s back, panicked at the thought that Bai Wuxiang could be with him. He felt a little relief when he saw that his back was empty. So, what was he here for then?
Shi Wudu slashed his tail through the air like a whip. Xie Lian bowed and greeted him, and Shi Wudu nodded curtly in return.
“What brings you here?” Xie Lian asked placidly.
Shi Wudu lifted his chin high. “Don’t play dumb with me. The master told me what happened.”
Xie Lian stiffened, his eyes wide. It was like the ground had fallen out from under him. Did Bai Wuxiang know that he had been leaving?
“What do you mean?” he asked, careful to keep his voice even.
Shi Wudu’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t care what you do, but leave Qingxuan out of it.”
Oh no… Xie Lian’s heart sank, and terror set in. It was all over.
“I heard that he defied the master to defend you,” Shi Wudu continued coldly. When he heard this, Xie Lian could breathe again. This wasn’t about him meeting San Lang, it was about what happened last time Bai Wuxiang visited, when Shi Qingxuan had spoken up for him. “He is not to speak to you any longer. He will carry out his duties, and that is all,” Shi Wudu said.
Xie Lian couldn’t even argue – Shi Wudu had voiced what had long bothered him. By being friendly with Xie Lian, Shi Qingxuan could turn into a new target for Bai Wuxiang’s abuse. And Xie Lian didn’t want anything happening to his sweet friend.
“Do not seek him out; he is not here to be your friend,” Shi Wudu emphasized.
“Yes,” Xie Lian agreed, although his heart was breaking. Shi Qingxuan had been his only friend for as long as he could remember. Before them, the manor had been even more lonely and isolated. Although their connection was one of the only things he had left, Xie Lian would willingly give it up if he could keep Shi Qingxuan safe.
Shi Wudu relaxed a little, but there was still genuine concern in his eyes. “My brother is naive and foolish. He has proven that he cannot be trusted to make his own judgments.”
On the contrary, Xie Lian thought that although Shi Qingxuan was young in dragon years, they were strong and bright. And besides that, they were the type of person to never give up on their friends. Xie Lian knew that they would fight against their brother’s wishes, even if it was for the best. Maybe it would make things easier for both of them if he went along with it.
“I will make sure that I don’t cause any more trouble for Shi Qingxuan or you,” Xie Lian said.
The two of them gave stiff farewells, and Shi Wudu leapt into the air and flew away. Xie Lian’s clothes and hair flapped in the wind he’d created, and then the air settled back to its usual dead stillness. It matched the empty hole inside of him. If he didn’t allow himself to dwell on it too much, then he wouldn’t have the chance to feel sad about it.
Numbly, Xie Lian rolled up his sleeves to pour himself into his pointless chores. It was like meditation, almost, letting his mind become completely blank as he methodically scrubbed. He had tried to be something he was not, tried to live a life that wasn’t meant for him, if only for a little bit. This was his place, cleaning an empty house for a master that was never home.
It took him a while to notice that his fingers had started bleeding from the repetition, red blood mixing with the soap suds.
~~~~~~~~~~~
When Xie Lian went back up to his room that night, he was almost too tired to notice the note on his dresser. He opened it and recognized Shi Qingxuan’s lovely, loopy handwriting. It said, “My dear friend, I’m sorry for my absence recently. My brother treats me like a child and thinks I shouldn’t see you anymore.”
Xie Lian could picture his friend’s annoyed pout.
“He’s placed a spell on me so that I can’t get close to you. I’ve been trying, but it’s impossible. Not to worry though, just because I can’t talk to you doesn’t mean I can’t write! I miss you, I’m going crazy by myself. There’s nobody to see my outfits, and nobody to dress up. How did it go with you-know-who? Don’t leave out any details. Please write me a reply and leave it by the kitchen door. I don’t care what my brother says. He can’t force me to do what I don’t want to, and I’ll always have your back.”
Shi Qingxuan finished off the letter with, “I’ll figure out a loophole or some way to break the spell, just you wait,” and signed their name. Tears welled up in Xie Lian’s eyes as he read the last words. As always, his friend was so earnest and true. He’d told their brother that he’d stay away from them, but surely a letter wouldn’t hurt, right?
Xie Lian got out his writing materials and pondered what to say. He ended up recounting it all – the market, San Lang’s strange reaction to the guards, their farewells, and even the kiss. It was a relief to put what he’d kept inside onto paper. At the end of the letter, he told Shi Qingxuan not to lose hope, and it was like he was telling himself as well.
As he read over what he’d written, Xie Lian realized in a panic that if Bai Wuxiang got his hands on it, it would be very incriminating. He swallowed and stared down at the letter, wondering if he should just forget the whole thing and destroy it. And yet, he still wanted to tell his friend everything that had happened… Xie Lian ended up writing “BURN THIS” in large characters at the bottom of the page. He folded it up and set it by his bedside, resolving to decide in the morning whether he would actually give it to Shi Qingxuan.
Xie Lian didn’t unbraid his hair before bed, too tired to manage it on his own. Sluggishly, he washed up, changed clothes, and slipped under the covers.