Chapter Text
On the days where Shi Qing Xuan finds it easier to move his limbs around, he goes to the Royal Capital for work. It’s one of the many new things he learned after stepping foot in the mortal realm as a human. He came to the quick realization that compared to immortals like heavenly officials and ghosts, humans are the most fragile when it comes to health. In order to survive, they need food and shelter. But in order to have food and shelter, they need a source of income.
It didn’t take long for Shi Qing Xuan to discover that finding jobs was harder than he thought. It also doesn’t help that half of his limbs are pretty much useless when it comes to manual labor, and so it doesn’t come quite as a surprise that work, for him, is never stable.
Despite his physical disabilities, he can’t allow himself to be a burden to the people who took him in. They already struggled enough trying to figure out how to put food on their table every day. The least he can do is provide for himself in every way possible.
So today, he works.
He places the Wind Master Fan in a brown pouch and slides it in between layers of robes. Tucked tightly around the waist area where his cloth belt hangs, the fan barely moves during the day. Attached to his belt is a small money bag passed down to him by one of the older beggars in the community. With a walking stick in one hand and a sling wrapped around the other, Shi Qing Xuan starts his journey just after the sun has risen.
Around the western side of the Capital stands a small inn with two floors owned by an old man named Chen Sheng and his daughter Chen Ling. When Shi Qing Xuan first came knocking on their door looking for a job, they mistook him for a beggar asking for food. It wasn’t far from the truth but it wasn’t exactly what he wanted from them either. As soon as everything was clarified, they did not hesitate to hire him.
The compensation is not the best — the inn is small and mostly deserted after all — but the owners would always give him leftovers or untouched food and tea before sending him home. On especially good days, they would set aside a jar of stale wine just for him. In the grand scheme of things, this arrangement was more than what Shi Qing Xuan could have ever bargained for.
“Ling-jie!” Shi Qing Xuan waves at the older woman setting the inn up for the day.
She turns around at the sound of his voice and waves back with the same energy. “xiao-Feng, you’re here! Good morning.” She comes closer to help him walk to the entrance of the inn.
“Up and early just as I always promise!” His tone is as bright as the morning sun which makes her smile even bigger.
She shakes her head. “xiao-Feng, we told you there’s no need to be this early! No one goes to an inn at this time of the day.”
“But what if someone does? You’ll need my charm to convince them to rent a room!”
She laughs at his remark and goes back to cleaning the surfaces before opening for the day. “You praise yourself too much. We also don’t want you to strain your leg. We know how far this is from the temple, so you should at least take your time.”
Shi Qing Xuan waves her off and walks to his usual spot behind the counter. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me!”
“You should take care of yourself more, you know?”
He freezes when he hears this. Remembers a young boy whose eyes never met Shi Qing Xuan’s when he said something similar. He blinks rapidly and laughs. “You and your father do more than enough of that for me! Now all I gotta do is sit pretty and wait for the customers to come rushing in.”
“You keep saying that, but…” She trails off.
He scoffs at this. “Do you not believe in my prowess? I can lure them all in before you know it.”
“Aiyah, xiao-Feng, you really are too much sometimes.” She laughs. “Have you eaten already? We have leftover steamed buns from the other day.”
“You spoil me too much, Ling-jie. Steamed buns sound great right now.”
After wiping the tables clean, she tosses the dirty cloth in a nearby basket. “I’ll heat them up for ‘ya, okay? Just stay there and…” She grimaces when she passes by him. “Do what you just said you would do.”
“It’s called sitting pretty, Ling-jie! You should try it some time!” He shouts at the figure retreating back to the kitchen and laughs to himself after.
As one of the inn’s staff, Shi Qing Xuan’s task is not labor-intensive. Everyday, he sits behind a counter that is situated right at the center for entering guests to see. When someone wants to book a room or order an extra jar of wine, they walk over to him, slide pieces of silver (sometimes gold if they’re feeling generous), maybe drop a compliment or two, and then head back to their tables.
The one thing the owners realized after hiring him is that his charm is unmatched (“a blessing from the heavens” as the old man once said). His cheery tone and vibrant aura have managed to pull in more customers than ever before and the small box for tips grows heavier each day.
The scent of reheated steamed buns wafts through the air when Chen Ling walks out of the kitchen and back to where Shi Qing Xuan is sitting. She hands him a plate with four small buns on top and he whispers his thanks with a smile.
“How’s the walking stick we gave you?” Chen Ling inquires.
A few weeks ago, he was helping out in wiping down the tables and counters when Chen Sheng noticed him struggling more than usual to move around. Thankfully, the old man had just recently purchased a new walking stick and his old one was just lying around in their house nearby. Seeing him struggling, Chen Sheng retrieved his old walking stick and gave it to Shi Qing Xuan to make his journey back to the temple less difficult (and if Chen Ling snuck in freshly steamed meat buns in the sack that he straps to his back, then she doesn’t mention anything about it).
Having heard her question, he raises his walking stick proudly for her to see. “Good as new! It makes me feel like both of my legs work now!” His giggles are only met with a worried look on her face.
“Does it really help? Father might have better walking sticks back at home that will suit you. You should also change your sling more often! Otherwise, it’s useless and might just hurt your arm more.”
He shakes his head and laughs. “Ling-jie, you worry too much! This walking stick is fine. I’ll ask the people back at the temple if they can help me change my sling soon. I’ll be okay.”
Chen Ling looks at him like she still has something she wants to say but she just shakes her head. “If you say so.”
Together, he munches on the steamed buns and she sips on her freshly brewed tea.
“Today might be a little busier than usual. If things get too much or your leg starts hurting, you tell me right away, okay? I can have someone else sit in for you.”
“And have someone else steal my regular customers?” He scoffs. “I don’t think so.”
“Shi Feng.” Chen Ling says his whole name as a warning.
Shi Qing Xuan smiles. “Alright, alright. I promise to tell you when I need a break.”
“Good.” Chen Ling stands up and gathers the plates and cups they used. While heading back to the kitchen, she calls over her shoulder and says “I’ll be opening up after I clean this. Father should be heading here soon. Don’t go walking around too much, okay?”
Humming in response, he hides his walking stick under the counter, readjusts the sling on his broken arm, and mentally prepares himself for the day.
As it turned out, Chen Ling was right about the day being a lot busier than usual.
Around the afternoon, a large group of young cultivators on their way back from a long night hunt came in to rest, drink, and eat to their heart’s content. Even if Shi Qing Xuan’s job does not require him to walk around and serve tables, entertaining them as they enter was still a tiring task. He doesn’t mind, though. Throughout the day, he greeted them with the biggest, brightest grin and everyone was completely enamored.
Shi Qing Xuan’s work finishes hours after sunset. Though the inn closes way past midnight, Chen Ling usually sends him away earlier. Before heading back to the temple, she hands him a small box full of Jian Dui to share with the children and elders in the community. Next to the box of snacks, she gives him a few silver coins — more than what he received a few days ago — for a job well done.
Despite the fact that the streets are usually lively and filled with people at this time of night, the side of the Royal Capital that he passes through is relatively quiet. The lit oil lamps by the windows of the nearby houses emits an orange afterglow on the streets and it helps Shi Qing Xuan immensely on his walk back.
There is a stillness that comes with how completely deserted the road is. Aside from the gentle breeze that makes the tendrils of his hair sway from side to side, the only noise that can be heard comes from the soft thud his walking stick makes when it hits the ground.
Above him, the moon shines bright and the stars twinkle like they’re keeping it company. From where he stands, he can make out some of the constellations his brother used to point out to him excitedly back when they were children. It’s a beautiful sight and he savors it as he walks, taking his sweet time to admire every single one.
Shi Qing Xuan looks at the sparkling lights in the sky and wonders if his brother is one of them.
He thinks about his life as the Lord Wind Master. For all the time he spent as an elemental god in the heavenly realm, he never once thought of taking a step back from everything to appreciate all that was around him. He doesn’t even remember if he had ever seen the sky from up there.
He pulls the walking stick closer to his body and sighs.
At least there’s one good thing about this life, he thinks, seeing the stars like this.
When he turns around the corner, he’s surprised to find a few market stalls open. It isn’t quite as busy as the night market in the central square, but a good number of people are walking around and looking for things to buy.
The small street market is home to all kinds of things. He spots vendors selling little trinkets from travels, butterfly toys for children, brand new sets of robes of all colors, and even pouches of different tea leaves ready for brewing.
While passing through each one, he overhears a man around his age in front of a display of bamboo hats. When he comes closer, he hears the man muttering to himself as he picks up the hats one by one to carefully examine them.
“... don’t even know why he needs a stupid bamboo hat to match with his husband,” The man grumbles. “Asking me to get one just because I owe him big money.”
Shi Qing Xuan crinkles his nose in amusement at the whiny tone of the man. He shakes his head and continues walking.
Near the bamboo hat stall and towards the end of the row of market vendors, he spots a few street children who were talking among themselves. When he looks closely, they seem to be arguing among themselves.
“Beibei,” One of the young boys starts. “We can’t get food with this money!”
A young girl — Beibei, he thinks — rolls her eyes at the young boy. “I told you that’s all I have! There should be something worth that much.”
The children look at the stalls desperately, but they slump their shoulders in the end. The boy who was holding the money stared at it for a good few seconds, chewing on his bottom lip in hesitation until he spoke up. “Do you think we should just—”
“Oi!” Shi Qing Xuan calls their attention and they all turn their heads to him simultaneously. The boy he cut off quickly hides his hand behind his back.
“Are you guys hungry?” He bends over to put down his walking stick. “I’ve got a few snacks here if ‘ya want!”
They look at each other before approaching him slowly. With his only working hand, he pulls the sack of food over his head to bring out the Jian Dui that Chen Ling packed for him. He intended to eat some of it when he got back to the temple, but he couldn’t stand seeing these kids struggling to find something to eat.
He’d been in their position not too long ago. He wouldn’t wish for someone else to experience that — let alone children.
When he pulls out the box of Jian Dui, their eyes sparkle with delight and move closer to take what he’s about to give them until it slips from his hand.
He manages to save the Jian Dui in time before it can even hit the ground, but in doing so, the strap that ties his money pouch to his belt goes loose. In a span of seconds, it falls open and makes a soft thump where it meets the dirt.
A few silver coins slip out. The children freeze when they see.
He’s not certain why, but he stops in his tracks when he sees the look in their eyes. He knows that look all too well. It was the same look on his face in the first few days of his life as a beggar. He remembered the consuming feeling of desperation from long days without food, shelter, or—
Money.
The shift happens in a second — maybe even less. When he blinks, the children are no longer frozen in their place.
Their movements are quick when they snatch the money pouch from the ground and make a run for it. Shi Qing Xuan’s eyes widen and the first thing he does is scream.
“Hey! Give that back!” He screams at the top of his lungs. He hurriedly restraps the sack of food behind him and grabs his walking stick. He tries to stand up as fast as he can, but he loses balance and ends up falling. Instantly, a jolt of pain surges through his chest and he yelps.
“Help!” He croaks. “Those kids stole my money!”
The people around him looked at where he was pointing, but the children were too fast. They had vanished in the shadows and the vendors and passersby alike didn’t know what to do.
Suddenly, the man who was grumbling about bamboo hats a while ago bolts past Shi Qing Xuan’s limp body on the ground and runs towards the place where the street children disappeared.
He readjusts his grip on the walking stick, steadies himself, and ignores the way his arm throbs when he pulls himself up. Limping as he goes, he follows the bamboo hat man and hopes for the best.
The path that he took led him to an area he’s never been to. Around him, trees around twice as tall as him and shrubs that reach just below his knees covered the majority of the street. The moonlight is mostly blocked by the towering trees and it engulfs him in darkness.
He blinks a few times and squints his eyes to see more clearly.
Somewhere not that far from where he’s standing, he can hear the rustling of leaves and hushed whispers. Cautiously, he pulls himself with his walking stick to the sound of those voices.
A few moments later, he gets close enough to pick up the words being said.
“...We didn’t steal anything!” The voice of the young girl is high-pitched and shaky. From the sound of it, Shi Qing Xuan assumes it’s Beibei.
“Listen, kid,” An older, much calmer person speaks. “Everyone saw what you all did. There’s no use lying to my face.”
“It’s just a few silver coins! It ain’t even that much! Why’s it such a big deal?”
“Stealing is one thing.” The same older person — presumably the man from the bamboo hat stall — talks once more. “But stealing from someone who doesn’t even have that much to begin with? That’s something else entirely.”
“Why do you care so much? Are ‘ya his friend or something?” Beibei’s voice rises when she asks this.
When Shi Qing Xuan doesn’t hear anything after that, he starts thinking they’ve moved someplace else or stopped talking entirely. But it doesn’t take long for the man to respond.
“I don’t have to be friends with them to know what you did was wrong.”
“And what are you gonna do about it, huh? You can’t beat us up! We’re children!”
From where he stands, he hears low, rumbling laughter, and then, “I can’t beat you up.”
A chilling breeze makes Shi Qing Xuan shiver.
“But I can do things way, way worse.”
In a matter of seconds, he hears high-pitched screams and a rush of footsteps heading away from his direction. He walks faster to where he heard the conversation and spots the man crouching on the floor.
He watches the man move aside some fallen leaves to pick up a pouch and dust it off. When the man turns around and his eyes fall on him, he halts.
Under the scarce moonlight filtering through the trees, Shi Qing Xuan sees long, dark brown hair flowing down to the man’s waist with the top half tied neatly in a bun and eyes as blue as ocean water.
The man clears his throat and extends a hand to him. Resting in his palm is the worn-out money pouch that Shi Qing Xuan owns.
“Thank you.” He whispers when he takes the pouch.
“It’s nothing.” The man watches him as he ties the pouch back to his belt, and when he looks back up, the man quickly averts his gaze.
The man clears his throat and wipes his hands on the back of his robes. “I’ll go ahead.”
Before the man can take another step, “Wait!”
Shi Qing Xuan blocks the man’s path, panting slightly from the sudden movement, but a smile graces his face anyway. “How can I thank you for this?” He motions towards the tattered money pouch.
The man looks at his face pensively, furrows his brows, and tucks his hand in his robes’ pockets. “You don’t have to thank me for anything.” He looks down.
He starts walking again but his pace is considerably slower — almost as if he was patiently waiting for the disabled man to catch up.
“Please!” Shi Qing Xuan’s tone is vibrant amidst the darkness that engulfs this side of town. “Thanks to you, I got this back. I don’t really mind them getting the coins. I can earn them again some other day.” He shrugs and his smile shifts into something more subtle — thoughtful. “But this money pouch was a gift. I have to treat it with utmost care.”
The man stays silent the whole time Shi Qing Xuan rambles on their way back to the small market. When they return, the market vendors are doing business as usual and do not bat a single eye at them. As they walk, he listens to the lame-legged man talk about an old woman who patched the pouch up just so he can use it for his travels. He fondly recalls the mismatched colors of the scraps of cloth holding it together and laughs.
“It really doesn’t make sense,” He shakes his head. “But I think it does add a lot of personality to it.”
The man does not call him out when he follows him all the way back to the bamboo hat stall, and when he notices where they are, Shi Qing Xuan’s eyes light up.
“I know!” He turns to the man excitedly. “I saw you browsing through this a while ago. You must be looking to buy one, right?”
The man just stares at him and slowly nods.
He squeals and quickly peruses the row of bamboo hats displayed on the table. Leaning on his walking stick, he moves his hand above the hats in thought until he points out the one on the far right. “This looks the best!”
Before the man can react, a hat is messily plopped on top of his head.
Shi Qing Xuan leans back to give it a look and he positively beams. His eyes take the shape of crescent moons when they crinkle and he hums in satisfaction. “It looks even better when placed on you!”
“Oi!” The market vendor calls their attention grumpily. “‘Ya can’t go around trying things if ‘ya don’t plan on buying them!”
The man watches in wonder as Shi Qing Xuan’s cheeks turn the lightest shade of rose.
Readjusting his walking stick once more, he faces the man and asks, “Do you like it? I think it goes well with your hair.”
“My hair?”
“Mhm!” Shi Qing Xuan giggles. “It turns light brown under the moonlight! Whenever my best friend—”
He suddenly stops talking. Drags his walking stick closer to his body and his eyes cast downward. The man carefully watches the way he chews on his bottom lip in hesitation while his shoulders slump. The sequence of movements was subtle — imperceptible almost — and though the man is quiet, he is observant.
Just like that, his posture changes back to the way it was a few minutes ago. A smile returns to his face even though the man notices it is not quite the same. The brightness in his eyes has dulled significantly, but he acts like nothing has changed.
“An old friend of mine has hair the darkest shade of black, but whenever we travelled at night, it would shine similarly to yours every time the moonlight hit.”
When the man doesn’t respond, he laughs shyly. “I’m sorry, that must have sounded very strange. Anyway, do you like the hat?”
The man continues to stare at him in silence. He shakes his head and shifts his gaze to the market stall vendor waiting impatiently. He pries his money pouch open, grabs a few coins and places it down on the table. “Is this enough?”
The vendor looks at the small coins in front of him. “This should do.”
Shi Qing Xuan looks back at the man who hasn’t uttered a single word for the past few minutes. He straightens his back and smiles. He pulls the strings of his money pouch closed and changes the position of the cloth sack on his back.
“Thank you again.” He tells the man softly. “I wish you safe travels and blessings.”
Without waiting for a reply, Shi Qing Xuan turns around to leave the market and continue his journey back to the temple.
Behind him, the man still stands frozen, eyes trained on his retreating figure, and throat closed in on words that are left unsaid.