Chapter Text
I. if seventy were young and death uncommon,
The first morning he spent in the coffin home was unnerving — confusing in all of its sense.
His body ached all over, but it did not bother him as much as the white cultivator standing out of his door, holding a mellow smile. It was an expression that fit the cultivator, he imagined as much — but not when faced to him; absolutely not when directed at him.
“Come and eat.” The gullible Daozhang said, and Xue Yang could not help but snicker at the irony of the whole situation. He marvelled at its stupidity, enough to make him full that he could most definitely skip breakfast.
However, for he was weak, and needed as much mending as he could, he rose from bed and followed the blind man. A certain feeling nestles within him — there was the thrill of sharing the same table as the man who had hunted him weeks ago, who probably cursed Xue Yang’s being even if he never said so himself;
and there was also that tingling in stomach, this feeling of playing house — as if he’s waiting to be noticed, a part of him looking forward to how this Daozhang will find him out, and they would fight it off until one of them falls.
“Daozhang, what are we going to do today?” The little blind asked, her pitch evidently out of excitement and joy.
“Hm. For today, I need to repair the roof.” They both chattered freely in front of him, and there is a new emotion that sinks in his stomach, almost disabling him from touching the food in front of him.
What kind of fear will their faces hold if he just decides to stab them both here, right now? Over this table? Xue Yang smirks, but pondering for a moment more, he decides that it is not enough. That will not be satisfying.
He’s not in the right physical disposition either to engage in another killing spree. They’ve actually proven themselves useful, although that could be debatable when it comes to the little blind. He can let it off for a few days, or even weeks, before killing them off.
Ah, what would Xiao Xingchen look like if the man he’s been hunting down is the one living with him? The one he’s been feeding? Will he scream as his Jiangzai plunges into the Daozhang?
A wicked idea plagues Xue Yang’s mind and he was more than happy to acknowledge it. Why go the easy way, when he can use this Daozhang to kill innocent lives? Nothing tastes sweeter to Xue Yang than have something so pure corrupted by his own hands.
What he wants is simple, and it is to kill them slowly — starting from innocence, then the soul, then —
“Is the food not to your liking?” The pleasant tone cuts through his contrasting thoughts. Xue Yang wondered how that gentle smile could stay so long on his face, when he would’ve surely worn a scowl by now just by hearing the little blind utter a single word.
“Uh…no, it’s fine.” Xiao Xingchen beams, then he goes back to eating.
To be completely honest, the breakfast is too bland for Xue Yang’s taste -- steamed vegetables, a boiled potato and a chicken leg. Seems like the cultivator did not indulge in many good things in life, including some real, salty food, being pampered and all on the top of a mountain.
Since he was already distracted, he spent time watching the cultivator’s every move. The closer he saw, the less he understood.
He doesn’t get how a flick of his tongue can be kind, or how holding a spoon can look like such. Hell, it could be a single strand of hair that fell on the sides of Daozhang’s face, and it will still look so kind. Every part of Xiao Xingchen is brimming with kindness, and Xue Yang does not understand how this cultivator had never once gone mad at some point in his life, because just looking at him is enough to drive Xue Yang to the edge.
“Daozhang spent so much effort trying to make breakfast and you won’t even eat?” A-Qing barked at him. He narrows his eyes.
“How sure are you I have not eaten?” Xue Yang swore she choked on her drink, but she expertly gulps it away.
“Obviously, I did not hear your spoon or fork being lifted from the table. If you chewed, I would’ve heard it as well. Are you saying that just because I am blind, I can no longer determine such trivial things?”
“I’ve never heard a blind take so much offence about a single question. Do you think that just because I can see, I will waste my time taunting a blind child every chance I get?” Xue Yang smirks, biting into the chicken leg.
“You-!”
“Now, you two.” Xiao Xingchen’s smile deepens. Xue Yang throws him a questioning stare. “You are acting like children.”
“She is a child.” Xue Yang raises his brow at her, and he boils with contentment upon seeing her face turn red, both out of anger and embarrassment.
Before they could explode into another fit, something else stops them both entirely. Xiao Xingchen’s laugh fills the air, deep and rather cordial; smooth like a lively river, and the type of laugh that warms.
It is the first time Xue Yang heard of such a laugh. Not a sardonic one, or an evil laugh — not a laugh that stemmed from the happiness of seeing someone’s misery, which he heard often growing up — but a true laugh that felt intimate, as if it is meant to be heard only by those around him.
“Finish eating now.”
“Hmph! I’m all full now, Daozhang.” A-Qing brings her plate as she stomps away from the table.
Xue Yang was almost left in a daze, but he hears the Daozhang clatter his utensils as well, and as if that day couldn't get anymore unexpected, he sees more food being transferred to his plate.
The Daozhang fumbled, and he lifted his own chicken leg and placed it on Xue Yang’s plate. He huffs, soft and delighted.
“You need to eat more to regain your strength.”
It was an action he only saw between two close people — a mother to her child, a brother to his sister. A husband to his wife, or the reverse.
It was a simple gesture, and perhaps the Daozhang had done it many times before. Xue Yang stared at his plate stupefied before eating in silence. It didn't leave Xue Yang’s mind the whole day. He also didn’t know what was beginning to weigh at the bottom of his stomach, almost warm and opposite to the void it usually was.