Chapter Text
He had known for a while that this day would arrive faster than he would expect. But staring down the failings of his immortality, of promise, in a mirror encrusted with brown muck at the sides, bothered Bai Yi more than he let on. The white that had once transversed but limited itself to a narrow streak across the side of his scalp had now spread to a good half of his hair, and to see physical evidence of his troubles was less vindicating and more depressing than he had prepared himself for.
At least there was one person who found the humour in it.
“Finally catching up, I see.” Wen Kexing tapped his fan against his chin, all smugly pouting insouciance in the sunlight that streamed through every nook and cranny of the manor. Now that spring had finally decided to show itself one bout of hunger and an entire month of complaining disciples later, Zhou Zishu had seized the opportunity to go on a peaceful trip out by himself, leaving the controlled chaos of the manor in the less than capable hands of Wen Kexing.
“Brat. I may be older, but I can still fling you to the next mountain.” Bai Yi poured himself tea.
“We’d all love to see that.” Xie’er swept into the room, carrying a tray of roasted nuts and an assortment of pastries. Where he got the flour and sugar and whatnot was always a bit of a mystery, not that Bai Yi got the chance to ponder much. He’d crammed in two pastries before Wen Kexing even had the chance to reach for the tray, chewing thoughtfully. Sweet snowskin wrapped around some kind of tart filling. It was good. He reached for one more before a hand promptly smacked him away.
“Those are for the disciples, you greedy old man.”
“Old man is right.” Bai Yi settled back, licking the sticky dough from his teeth. He caught the way Xie’er’s gaze snagged on the white of his hair, before darting to his face. To his credit, he didn’t seem fazed. They could all remain impervious to it then. Bai Yi quite liked the idea of that.
“I didn’t realise such things would happen overnight.”
Bai Yi grunted, swilling his tea. It’d been boiled way too hot for such midday heat. “Well, now you know. It’d be my shoulder popping out of its socket next. Perhaps that would happen overnight too.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Xie’er raise a brow and exchange a look with Wen Kexing.
When had they gotten all chummy?
“Are you teaching today?”
Xie’er quirked a wry smile, glancing out the room at the chirping birds, the growing leaves. “I am to bring the disciples out to celebrate the coming of spring.”
“Why, old monster? Planning to lure him someplace to leach the youth out of him?”
“Funny.” Bai Yi spat out the chrysanthemum bud in his tea and stood. “The marketplace is open. You should take them there.”
“And are you gracing us with your presence?”
“Worried I’ll slow you all down? Fear not. It is still a long way yet before these knees give out.”
“Of course. Ye qian bei will always be a step ahead.” Xie’er followed him out of the pavilion.
Bai Yi wondered about his assured grace and silver tongue sometimes. A solid month had passed since they had had their little spat, and he and the little bastard both held a silent, mutual agreement to overlook whatever it was that had transpired between them. But that didn’t necessarily mean no grudges were being held.
In any case, Bai Yi no longer visited the inns in town. He didn’t have the heart to.
All that, and he wasn’t sure anyone would be any more forgiving of age than they were of stale bread.
The disciples swarmed Xie’er like a pack of rabid ducklings the moment he announced their trip, and off the lot of them went, with Bai Yi forced to trail behind to keep count lest a disciple wander off the beaten path down the steep mountain. Not that there was a chance of that happening. They clearly adored Xie’er, and listened well to his instructions. It was quite a sight, one Bai Yi wished Xie’er could see for himself if he weren’t so hyper-focussed on his duties.
The marketplace was where things got a little rowdier and the scorpion a little more flushed. Who could blame the kids, anyway? Everywhere they turned was a sight for sore eyes; sugar-spun dragon candies, coloured paper kites, cricket matches, lanterns, wooden dragonflies that balanced on sticks by the tips… Shop owners hurriedly prepped their stands, eager to make good money after the drought of winter. Bai Yi grabbed a disciple by the collar before the boy could launch away like a water demon exposed to fire.
“Alright, we will walk in a group, is that clear?”
Bai Yi noted how Xie’er had donned his wide-brimmed straw hat, translucent cloth shielding the sides of his face. There was scarcely any chance for recognition, not when the whole Scorpion King fiasco had blown over for months now, but he supposed it never hurt for some extra precaution.
“Yes, Xie lao shi!”
Bai Yi bought a packet of nuts and was munching in dissatisfaction soon enough. They were brittle, and not sweet enough given the season. But they would do. He tossed one at Cheng Ling. The boy had been keeping a lookout for his counterparts the entire time. Someone around here should be responsible for having a little fun, he thought sagely.
“Ye qian bei, tell me if you’re tired, alright?”
“What? So you can carry me, brat?” Bai Yi swatted a sleeve at the boy.
“No, no! So I can tell Xie-xiong to slow down.”
“I was kidding. I’m not weak yet, rascal.”
Cheng Ling looked slightly buoyed at that. Bai Yi wondered if the boy had assumed his death was imminent the moment the silver in his hair had spread. What a thought. Things were not so easy, and glancing at the gaggle of children and the big one leading the troop, he wasn’t sure he was no longer grateful for that.
The group took a turn into a wide square filled with even more stalls and peasants padded in dull clothes to ward off the chilly remnants of winter in the air. The boys had all been given a couple of coins each, and they split in different directions to spend their cash on frivolous trinkets. Xie’er hung back, drifting to a stall with jewellery and fans laid out. Bai Yi clucked his tongue when he reached for some silver bangles. Predictable.
Bai Yi drifted closer for a better look.
“Is Ye qian bei going to purchase some of his own or stare over my shoulder all day?”
The fans were the kind Wen Kexing favoured, red designs unfurling over glossy paper stretched across the traditional wooden slats. Perhaps he would like one. Bai Yi glanced into his coin pouch. Perhaps not.
Xie’er caught his vacillating intention. “Such generosity. Perhaps spring suits your temperament better.”
Bai Yi rapped the fan on his forehead. “Don’t be glib in front of the children.”
Cheng Ling grumbled under his breath.
“Especially this child. Where are your manners?”
Xie’er turned away, the cloth shielding the curving of his mouth.
———
The children were predictably excitable, and he’d packed a rope just in case he’d had to herd them in a more old-fashioned way. Silently, he’d been grateful for Ye Bai Yi’s help in watching out for any stragglers. He hadn’t expected the immortal to go out of his way, but Xie’er’s life was packing a lot of surprises as of late.
At present, Zhen Feng’s little brother, Zhen Ye, was staring up at him with a sheepish look, his little satchel emptied of coins. An orange stain flecked the corner of his mouth.
“Xie lao shi.”
“You spent it all on food, didn’t you?”
A nod.
“Well, I don’t have any coins to spare for you.”
His bottom lip began to tremble, the way Xie’er’s used to whenever he got caught doing something wrong and hot incense was pressed into the backs of his knuckles by tutors Zhao Jing appointed specially for him. He turned away. He was not about to inflict such abominable pain on the innocent child, and over such a trivial matter to boot. Simply doing nothing would serve as a good enough lesson. Ye Bai Yi seemed to think otherwise, and he could only watch, flabbergasted, as the old man scooped Zhen Ye into his arms, cutting off the beginnings of a sniff.
“Xie lao shi sure is mean, isn’t he?”
“He will not learn if you spoil him.”
“Oh, come on. He’s six.” Ye Bai Yi wiped the boy’s candy-stained mouth with with his sleeve, leaving a smear that was sure to stay. “What did you want, boy?”
Zhen Ye pointed a small, chubby finger in the direction of a stall selling miniature toy carts. Unless the boy was planning to personally deliver cabbages to the ants festering at the gate of the manor, Xie’er had no idea what he wanted them for.
Ye Bai Yi chuckled. “Those little things? Alright then.”
After a minute or so of haggling with the stall owner (over toy carts, Xie’er thought with impressed disgust), Zhen Ye’s face brightened when the cart was handed to him, fist closing over it protectively. “Thank you, Ye qian bei!”
Ye Bai Yi swung the boy back down, and he ran off to rejoin his brother’s group.
Xie’er disapproved strongly. This was how children were made weaker in their resolve. He had long since given up the prospect of getting the immortal to see reason however, and simply stated, “You realise the rest of them are going to hound you now?”
A merry whistle. “I’ll have you to stop them taking advantage of me then.”
Xie’er would have slapped him. He restrained himself. It was spring after all. Perhaps the spirit of giving was cause for more tolerance. They walked on after Ye Bai Yi deigned the fans too expensive and grand for the likes of Wen Kexing, but not before Xie’er bought a silver anklet for himself, liking the way it rested just below the cuff of his pant legs. Ye Bai Yi had only hummed, commenting on the looseness of the chain and tossing a few more coins to buy a replica for Xie’er to keep in case the first slipped off.
They headed back just before nightfall, the children —sated with bellies full of all kinds of treats— trudging in palpable disappointment.
Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing looked up from a Weiqi (a Chinese board game) set when he and Ye Bai Yi entered the pavilion. The children had been sent off to their rooms to retire for the night, a tedious task given the excitement of the day.
“How was the trip?” Zhou Zishu inquired, deftly placing a black stone on the board and eliciting a groan from Wen Kexing.
“The disciples had fun. I suspect late-comers for tomorrow’s training, however.” Xie’er glanced at the board. Zhou Zishu was clearly toying with his partner; Wen Kexing had no flair for this game if the poorly allocated white stones were any indication.
Ye Bai Yi looked indignant from where he sat sprawled on his ledge. “It’s the first week of spring! Surely the disciples deserve a longer break?”
“There’s a schedule to be followed.” Xie’er said, his tone a smudge icier than he had intended. He was tired, and his resolve to tamp down the habitual bite of his words tended to lapse during his sour moods. As usual, Ye Bai Yi took no offence, good-naturedly pulling a face that mocked what must have been his self-serious expression. Xie’er huffed, fighting the urge to smile at the ridicule.
“It’s nice to know that someone else is maintaining some structure.” Zhou Zishu had successfully seized the board, Wen Kexing’s white stones having all been “captured” by Zhou Zishu’s black ones.
“The disciples follow your word well.”
“It is only because you’ve taught them well.” Xie’er admitted, not begrudgingly. It was merely the truth.
“Just accept the praise, brat.”
Zhou Zishu inclined his head. “Leadership is not something that spreads by association. They will not follow you simply because I tell them to, which I have never done. They follow you because they see something deserving of their loyalty.”
No one had ever complimented him in such a forthcoming, unambiguous way in his entire life and Xie’er did not quite know how to respond beyond a stiff nod. Was he touched? Not precisely. Xie’er knew he was jaded past the childish stirrings of pleased embarrassment. But he felt good. Different. Seen by just a few utterances.
“Thank you.”
“Look what you’ve done, Ah-xu! His ears are all red.”
Xie’er helped himself to some wine. “They aren’t.”
“How would you feel about leading the disciples in my stead?”
He promptly choked. Wiping his mouth, he wondered vaguely if Zhou Zishu was simply musing aloud. He was not amused. Who was he to be entrusted with such a great responsibility? It would only be a matter of time before he did something to throw Zhou Zishu’s plans for the disciples askew, and he would rather not have them lie in wait for his failure before declaring him unfit for the job.
“Where are you going?” He asked instead.
“Nowhere. I simply think you would do a good job, do you not agree?”
“I doubt I am in the position to make such a decision.”
“All the better for us to decide for you.” Ye Bai Yi raised his jug in a toast, ignoring Xie’er’s dumbfounded splutter. “Congratulations, you have officially dethroned your elder.”
They couldn’t be serious, could they? Xie’er had an inkling of the faith Zhou Zishu tended to place in people, no matter how twisted or ugly they could seem, but this extended beyond mere trust. A full year had not even passed since he had last ended his reign over his Scorpions, and the transition to caring for children —affiliated with his former enemies at that— was jarring. The ghosts of his past selves must have been twisting with laughter in the air, and Xie’er felt a faint twinge of hilarity at how ludicrous this all was.
Ye Bai Yi was looking at him, something registering behind his laughing eyes. “You don’t have to overthink this, Xie’er.”
“It is only a matter of whether you are willing, or not.”
Xie’er did not know. His heart was full with the children, that much was certain. Such a privilege did not belong to one with so much wretchedness within, no matter how distant or suppressed. He no longer harboured any grudges toward those who had tainted him. It was a fickle, useless thing to carry on stomping the ground where Zhao Jing’s ashes lay beneath. But hatred was a shadow, not a cloak, and Xie’er knew better than to delude himself into believing that it would not find a way to follow him through the light of the days ahead.
Zhou Zishu must have picked up on his reticence. He stood, hand resting lightly on Xie’er’s shoulder. “An immediate answer is not needed. But know that my offers are not made with inhibitions. I have good judgment, which you do not have to make on my behalf.”
Wen Kexing cleared his throat behind his ridiculously large fan. “Ah-xu may be generous to a fault, but pull any kind of stunt and I will burn all your jewellery, is that clear?”
Strange. The stoic man. The unhinged sorcerer. Twin memories that had once boiled Xie’er’s blood. But now, under the fading light of their small pavilion, both unguarded and regarding him like he had every right to be there despite the torment he had put them through, Xie’er had the fleeting, unmistakable urge to bring his hands to his face and sob.
But he merely blinked. Once, twice, before nodding.
“It would be an honour.”
He and Ye Bai Yi did not converse with their usual energy that night. He was sure the old man was exhausted. He scarcely did anything more than drink and grate on Wen Kexing’s nerves on a typical day, and corralling a rowdy crowd must have taken a lot out of him. Not that he would have admitted it. For what could have been the fourth time that day, Xie’er wondered when the effects of age would begin to set in, if Ye Bai Yi would no longer be able to eat the Wolong nuts he was addicted to next week, no longer be able to conjure witty conjectures as quickly as he presently did next month, no longer be able to wield his sword with the same strength next year.
He could sense that Ye Bai Yi had already read his thoughts. He guffawed when Xie’er tentatively voiced his doubts, then, perhaps out of sympathy, contained his humour in quieter chuckles.
“Age doesn’t just ravage an immortal’s body. It doesn’t work like a broken dam.” Ye Bai Yi spoke into the dark. “It’s more like a winding stream, if we’re really going to wax poetic here.”
“So you’ll just be aging like the rest of us?” Xie’er had said it just to annoy him, and was surprised at the consenting “hrmph” exhaled into the distance between them.
“Isn’t as bad as I thought.”
“The world truly is ending.”
“Oi.”
It went silent for a moment. The air was no longer quite so frigid, and Xie’er no longer balled himself up in blankets. The moonlight was more blue than silver, and he pondered what his new role would entail; whether he would take the reins as naturally as breathing or flounder.
“I can hear you thinking. Sleep, if you wish to be on your feet to holler at the sleepyheads tomorrow.”
A winding stream, he supposed, applied to most things. Perhaps in time, his shadows would melt like ice off the wood of the manor’s walls, and let him breathe without feeling like the world was caving in on him.
Until then, Xie’er could dream of nothing but light.