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The forest was silent, each of his steps ringing hollowly between lifeless woods.
Anyone who grew up near such mountains would be well acquainted with these forests. From playing through them as children and exploring their secrets to working and finding rest in them while growing into adulthood and old age, the forests were always constant. The chirping of birds, the rustling of something unseen, and the swaying of leaves in the wind were the forest’s song, one which chased away loneliness and silence. They were many colors—green in the summer, warmth made color in the autumn, white during winter’s snow, and bursting with the blooms of spring—but always were they constant.
Now, they were black and silent.
What morons, he found himself thinking. What a horrible thing to do, to burn a proud and once sacred forest such as this one to the ground.
He raised a hand up to his face. Instead of flesh, he was met with only the smooth surface of polished wood. He adjusted the mask for what must have been the hundredth time that day, but it never felt as though it rested over his features right.
More than anything, he was terrified of it falling off and revealing the monster that hid behind it.
He nearly tripped over a root, and he forced himself to pay more attention to his path. He would be of no use to anyone if he was so lost in thought he wound up accidentally braining himself on the way to his destination.
The forest around him began to whisper anew. Slowly but surely, it blossomed around him, once again brimming with life. It was nothing like the forest’s edge, where the branches laid barren and scorched while the creatures dared not sing. It gave him the assurance he needed that he was finally close to the forest’s heart.
“Halt.”
His skin crawled, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He scanned the treeline looking for the source of the order, but even without being able to spot the voice’s owner, he knew a weapon was trained on him.
“Are you human?”
That was the question posed, but he knew it to mean, ‘Are you foe?’
The smile beneath his mask widened. Perhaps this was where he should sink to one knee, to proclaim himself a friend in a show of derence, but he didn’t. He would only bow or kneel for one.
“I am not an enemy,” he answered in lue of a response to the spoken question. “I have come to meet with his Royal Highness the Crown Prince of Xian Le, god of this forest.” The words tumbled foreign from his lips, but he knew there was no mistake in them. He had ingrained the title in his heart long ago, along with everything else about that person.
“...His Highness is not taking visitors. Turn back.”
“No.” It was a simple response, but it was dangerous. That was fine by him. His worthless life hadn’t been his own for a long time now, so if he died here, by that person’s will, then that would be a satisfying end for him. He didn’t care one way or another.
But he knew that person, and he knew he wouldn’t be struck down here. That person wouldn’t have it in him, to order the death of a person without just cause. He was too kind for that.
That was why, when an arrow whistled past him and dug a bloody trench through his exposed ear, he didn’t so much as flinch. He saw it for the empty threat it was, and the blood trailing down the side of his neck didn’t bother him. Let it stain his shirt, his skin. It wasn’t as though it was the first time he walked bloodstained, and it wouldn’t be the last.
“This is your last warning,” the voice said. “Turn back now or face the consequences.”
He was unwavering. “I’m not leaving.”
The air shifted, and he found a man before him. He wore elegant but practical robes befitting a warrior with a scowl to match, and a sleek, ornate bow rested in one hand. “Very well. If you’re so intent on staying, then consider yourself our prisoner. His Highness shall decide your fate.”
He wouldn’t have it any other way.
-/-/-
The heart of the forest was beautiful. Of course, when he said that, it was with the man sleeping at its center and not the scenery itself in mind, but that was also nothing less than breathtaking.
The beauty was tainted, however. Just as many of the trees and life that didn’t reside in its center liad barren and scorched, a massive tree that stretched far beyond the canopy of the other trees was a black, empty husk. He watched the man with the bow, and his scowl deepened at the sight of the dead tree.
It was once a magnificent thing, he knew. The tree was the heart of the forest, as much as its prince and god was. Rumor had it that the prince was born from that tree, and thus, the tree stood as both King and Queen of this forest.
And now, it was dead.
Not much could move him, but even his heart ached at the sight. The ache only grew worse as his eyes trailed down from it, returning to the person curled at its base and cradled by its roots.
“A human?”
“...No? A spirit?”
“Why did Feng Xin let him pass?”
“He must be a god!”
The whispers persisted, only having grown louder in the silence at the forest’s heart. Still, they brought a small smile to his face. The mask was working—none of the beings who occupied the forest could tell what he was.
“Shut up!” the man, who must be Feng Xin, snapped. The whispers died abruptly, replaced by playful shrieks and the rustling of leaves as the little spirits dove into the safety of the underbrush.
He wanted to punch Feng Xin for raising his voice, because the moment he did, the prince’s peaceful face twisted with the weight of consciousness. His eyes fluttered open, and he sat up. He raised his head, eyes reflecting nothing as he stared up at the empty and darkened branches of his tree. His face fell, as though he had forgotten the tragedy in his dreams and was now once again reminded of it.
Feng Xin coughed. “Your Highness. You have a… person, who wished to see you. I couldn’t drive him away, so I took him prisoner instead. You need to decide what we do with him.”
“I told you, send everyone away. I don’t want…” The prince, Xie Lian, trailed off. His eyes narrowed at the mask, and it made his heart skip a beat. There was no possibility that Xie Lian recognized him, not with the mask and after all this time, but the hope in his chest refused to die. “...You may leave, Feng Xin. Everyone else, too.”
Feng Xin’s eyes widened in surprise, however brief it was. “Your Highness, is that wise? Do you know this person?”
“No, but I said to leave.”
“I can’t leave you alone with an unknown party.”
“Feng Xin.” Xie Lian’s voice was low, colder than what he’d thought the prince was capable of. “Are you questioning my orders? If so, you can get out of the forest, too. I don’t understand why you’re still here.”
He watched quietly, not intervening since things were playing out to his favor, but the chill to Xie Lian… He found it deeply disturbing. The Xie Lian of his memories was warm, but this Xie Lian hadn’t smiled once and had shown Feng Xin, his oldest friend, nothing but hostility.
To see Xie Lian, pushed down to this point and so downtrodden… It set his blood aflame.
The hurt that flashed through Feng Xin’s face was undeniable and raw. It lasted only a moment, just as the surprise from earlier had, before the guard schooled his expression and ducked his head. “As you command, Your Highness. I will return at dusk to check on your wellbeing.”
With that, Feng Xin turned on his heel and disappeared into the foliage. The rustling and whispering in the trees had died to nothing but silence, so he guessed the little spirits must have fled, as well. They were alone at last.
Unfortunately, from that moment on, things didn’t go exactly as he’d imagined.
Before he could process it, Xie Lian was lunging for him. Anger was written over his features, and he barely had the time to feel the pange in his chest before there was a hand around his throat. It hauled him up, and the world twisted around him. The next moment, his back slammed against the bark of the tree, the crushing grip over his throat never once loosening.
Xie Lian smiled, but it was an uggly thing. “What a joke. What are you here for, human? You must have a death wish, to come here after what your kind did to this forest. Or perhaps it’s fate, delivering you to my hands as reparation for your crimes? Don’t think that mask was enough to hide your nature. It may have fooled the others, but it cannot fool me.”
Ah. So Xie Lian sent the others away not because he wanted to speak with him in private, but because he didn’t want anyone to witness this.
Subconsciously, his fingers had flown up to claw at the hand crushing his neck in a vain attempt to pry them off him. They were still there now, nails digging into the inhuman flesh of Xie Lian’s wrist. When he noticed this, he forced himself to relax his grip and let them fall limp to his side, even as black spots danced through his vision.
The tightness over his throat, the inability to draw breath into his lungs… It wasn’t unfamiliar, but this time, he felt no panic, only forced calm. His life wasn’t his own. If Xie Lian wanted it, then it was his.
And then, suddenly, the grip was gone, and he was sliding to the ground with desperate heaves wracking his frame. Air filled his lungs again, and it felt like heaven. A part of him, the treacherous part, was relieved.
But still… Curious eyes slid up to meet Xie Lian’s, all the while wondering what they would find there.
It was not what he was expecting.
“...Why?” The sound was broken, a tragedy written in sound. Xie Lian’s features twisted with confusion and pain, his fingers twitching with anger and eager to lash out again, but something held him back. “Why did you give up? Did you just come here to die by my hand?”
He coughed once more before answering in a voice far weaker and hoarser than he would’ve liked. “If taking my life if what you want, then I will not go against you, Dianxia.”
“Why?”
He had no answer for that. The Xie Lian before him… He had no answer this Xie Lian wanted to hear, he knew that. He considered recounting the tale of a lost human child, hated by everyone, who ran into a rumored cursed woods to seek his own death. Instead, a charming prince found that child, played with him, treated him kindly, and then led him safely back to the forest’s edge.
The prince wouldn’t remember this child, and he doubted he wanted to hear stories of how he’d once shown humans such kindness when all they repaid him with was a dead heart and dying wood.
So he merely ducked his head and refused to answer.
Xie Lian’s form trembled. He made a false start forward, then another, wavering before each strike and never following through. Finally, he screamed. He ripped the sword at his hip from its sheath and swung, but the attack was not aimed at him. It gouged the earth and nothing else, a scar of the prince’s frustration carved into the dirt and grass.
With that, he grit his teeth and jammed the sword into the earth. “What a joke. At least flinch, get angry… A human shows up on my doorstep, and yet you…” Xie Lian turned his head to the side, but he didn’t miss the way the prince’s lip trembled. “I can’t kill someone who won’t fight back. Even if you are a human. Get out of my sight.”
He pulled himself to his feet. His fingers lingered over the edge of the mask, ensuring it was still firmly fixed over his features to hide his face, before he squared his shoulders.
“My life is yours,” he said. “I don’t intend to leave.”
“If it’s mine, then leave and forget me. That’s my wish.” The response was curt and harsh, and Xie Lian’s lip curled up into the beginnings of a snarl. He couldn’t sustain the expression, though, his eyes falling back down.
He titled his head. Of all the things Xie Lian asked, that was the one thing he couldn’t do. So he fell silent, and he watched as the prince’s anger melted under tired eyes.
His lips curled again, but it had nowhere near the same ferocity. “You talk big, but you don’t follow through… Fine, whatever. I hardly care about one lousy human. You’re not even worth chasing off.” Xie Lian drifted past him, to another part of the tree. He curled at its base again, until he could see nothing but the prince’s back.
He waited, but Xie Lian did not stir again. He dared not approach while the prince’s back was turned, not when he had so much anger and mistrust for humans. He wanted to prove he wasn’t a threat, so he backed away instead. He picked a tree at the clearing’s edge, far enough away from the prince’s resting spot at the hulking shell of a tree’s base to pose no threat. There, he sat, and he waited.
-/-/-
He must have nodded off at some point, because when he opened bleary eyes, he was met with Xie Lian’s face again. The initial anger was gone, leaving only a blank and tired coldness to it.
“I have to admit,” Xie Lian said, “I didn’t expect you not to try to stab me in the back. I was waiting for it, you know. For you to give me that excuse to kill you.”
Despite himself, he felt a smile curve up his lips beneath the mask. He wouldn’t be giving Xie Lian that excuse, he knew. If Xie Lian wanted his life, it was his, but he wouldn’t betray Xie Lian to reach that end. “I would never hurt you, Dianxia.”
“I doubt that,” he snorted. “Well, human, you have your wish. I won’t chase you off, but I refuse to trust you. I want to know why you’re here.”
He was silent, again. Until he thought to say, “For your sake.”
Xie Lian shook his head as a broken laugh tore through him. “Very likely. For my sake? What worth is that, doing something for the sake of someone who couldn’t even protect what gave birth to him? Whatever you pretend to hold for me, it’s misplaced.”
“No, it’s not.” On that, he would never budge. Xie Lian was worth it, and he would always be worth it.
Xie Lian shot him a glare. “What would you know? Refrain from commenting on matters you’re ignorant of.”
“...If you wish,” he conceded. Personally, he didn’t think he was wholly ignorant when it came to Xie Lian, but he had only been here thrice before. He couldn’t mention that either, not without having to explain who he was to someone who probably didn’t remember him.
“What is your name?”
He paused at that. His mind ran through all the things he’d been called over the years, most spat like curses. A name was something dear, a declaration that one was important enough to distinguish from the thousands of faceless others. Perhaps he should have made something up, or maybe he should have let one of the many curses echo between them, but he did neither. Instead, he said, “I have no name.”
“Really?” Xie Lian snorted. “Anyone with no name is Wu Ming.”
“Then I am Wu Ming,” he replied, a smile tugging at his lips.
Xie Lian baulked at that. His mouth hung open until he managed, “It was a joke, don’t take it seriously. That’s not a proper name.”
“I have no other. I might as well be Wu Ming, at least until I feel like something different.”
Wu Ming… He rolled the name around in his mind, and he found he liked the sound of it. It may have been spoken in jest, but it wasn’t unkind. That was far more kindness than he was used to.
“...Very well. If you happen to feel like telling me a different name to use for you, then please do.”
Wu Ming grinned. “I will.”
Xie Lian was silent again for some time. He wandered away from Wu Ming again, returning to the husk of a tree at the clearing’s center. He sat and pulled his knees to his chest, curling further into dead bark. Wu Ming didn’t try to follow after him.
“I’m not the only one angry with humans, I hope you’re aware. If you stay here, and any of the other spirits learn of what you are, they will tear you to shreds.”
“Because a human killed the tree?” Wu Ming wondered aloud, his voice sounding unconcerned.
“Why else?” Xie Lian’s face twisted. “You came here without knowing?”
Wu Ming nodded. “I’ve only heard rumors here and there, nothing solid.”
“Well, I suppose that makes sense…” Xie Lian’s anger seemed to fade again, and he sighed. “It was a man from a land called Yong An. His name was Lang Ying, and he came to this forest twice. The first was for medicine for his sick son and to beg for rain, but there’s nothing I can do about the weather of a far-off land. I gave him the medicine and sent him on his way, but he returned a year later with a fake smile and false good news.
“He claimed his son was saved. Unfortunately, that was a lie. He came back for revenge, nothing more. I didn’t once think to question him, not until he used his own soul to place a curse on the tree. This curse poisoned and killed it, and as hard as I tried, nothing I did helped. He explained everything before doing it, you know? If I had only acted quickly and killed him the moment he betrayed us, this wouldn’t have happened. It was his hand that did it, but it was my own misplaced honor that didn’t stop him.
“And now, without its heart, the rest of the forest is also dying. So tell me, human, what do you say in the face of the crimes of your kind?”
Waiting with a piercing, expectant gaze, Xie Lian watched him. He still hadn’t placed his full trust in Wu Ming, but he wasn’t expecting the prince’s trust to come so easily. This was a final test, he thought, a final airing of the grievances between them.
Wu Ming drummed his fingers on one knee. He knew exactly what he wanted to say, but he had no clue if it was the answer Xie Lian was looking for. But… what else could he say but the truth? Xie Lian deserved at least that much.
“Why would I defend my kind?” Wu Ming wondered aloud, the beginning of his answer spun with much the same anger Xie Lian possessed. “From the moment my memory began, other humans have only given me pain and hate. If you hate humans, then fine. I hate them, too, so don’t ask me to defend them.”
Xie Lian stared at him. Obviously, it wasn’t the answer he was expecting, but what could Wu Ming do? It was the truth. If he was offered the power to raze the human race to the ground, he wasn’t sure he would refuse it. There was so much anger crawling beneath his skin, the memories needles in his skull. Why on earth would he defend humans when he saw nothing good in them?
Finally, Xie Lian shook his head. “A human that hates other humans, huh? I think I may understand a bit better why you’ve come, but I’m sorry to say I can’t welcome you with open and warm arms and promise nothing bad will happen to you ever again. This is a dying place. If you’re looking for a haven, then keep searching. You’ll find better luck elsewhere.”
“I don’t need or want a haven,” Wu Ming replied. “I doubt one exists, and if it does, I'm certainly never going to find it.” That was, perhaps, the first lie he’d told Xie Lian. He had a haven, but it wasn’t a place.
Xie Lian stared at him for some time, so much so that Wu Ming worried he would call him on his lie. Thankfully, Xie Lian only sighed and said, “Just keep your mask on. So long as you do, no one will be able to tell your nature but me.”
Wu Ming ducked his head, and somehow, his chest felt light. “Understood.”
-/-/-
Feng Xin returned later that evening, after Xie Lian had already curled in the tree’s cradle again. He hadn’t spoken or moved, so Wu Ming assumed he was sleeping, unless he was faking it again. He wasn’t even sure if forest gods needed to sleep, or maybe this was an effect of the heart of the forest having passed on already.
Xie Lian had called it a dying place, the forest crumbling along without a heart to pump life into it… So what would happen to the forest’s prince, Xie Lian?
Wu Ming frowned beneath the mask, watching silently as Feng Xin strode into the clearing. After letting himself slip and fall asleep that afternoon, he wasn’t about to make the same mistake, and he was glad for it now. If Feng Xin had caught him asleep in one of the low-lying branches at the edge of the clearing, there was no telling what the prince’s guard might do.
Feng Xin’s eyes first fell on the still form of Xie Lian, freezing for only a moment before seeming to relax at the slow rise and fall of the prince’s chest. Then, he turned his gaze to Wu Ming, and his eyes grew cold.
It lasted only for a moment before Feng Xin thought better of saying anything. He instead made his way to Xie Lian’s side. He stooped, reaching out as if to shake his shoulder to stir him, but pulled back at the last moment, as though he’d changed his mind.
“Your Highness.”
“Go away.”
Wu Ming was surprised, to hear such a cold and blunt response from Xie Lian. He thought he might have just been in a poor mood when Feng Xin had spoken with him earlier, but his tone had been lighter when speaking to Wu Ming (save for the part where Xie Lian had been contemplating the merits of killing him). He was a stranger, while Feng Xin was supposed to be a friend. This wasn’t how the Xie Lian of his memories had spoken to Feng Xin.
Had something changed between them, in all these years? Or perhaps it was just Xie Lian who had changed?
Wu Ming shook his head. Whether or not this was the Xie Lian of his memories… He was still Xie Lian. Nothing would change that.
“Your Highness.” Feng Xin was unphased, save for the slightest twitch of his brow that betrayed him. “It is time to eat.”
Xie Lian sat up, his hair trailing over one shoulder. Then, he glared. “Did I order you to tell me that? If you can’t follow orders, get out.”
Wu Ming watched silently.
Feng Xin’s cool facade finally broke, exposing it for the brittle thing it was. “You’re treating me like a servant. I’m just trying to help! You don’t have to be an ass about it!”
“Are you not a servant? I never asked you. Your help is unwanted and unwelcome, and what right do you have to speak to your master like that?” Xie Lian snapped back. They weren’t shouting yet, but it was a near thing. “I told you, follow orders. If you can’t do that, then there’s no reason for you to stay here.”
“No reason—Xie Lian!” Finally, Feng Xin’s voice raised to a shout. “We’re fucking friends, aren’t we?! Isn’t that enough reason for me to stay?!”
And suddenly, Xie Lian raised a hand. Feng Xin’s eyes widened as he brought it down, striking him across the cheek. Feng Xin staggered back, shock clearly written on his face.
The only thing that betrayed Xie Lian was the slight shake to his fingers. But by then, hurt twisted through Feng Xin’s features as his hand rose to rub his cheek, and he undoubtedly missed it.
“...Okay,” he said, numbly. “I will… I will return later.” Like a ghost, Feng Xin wandered out of the clearing, his steps scraping over the dirt as he went. Both Xie Lian and Wu Ming watched, but the latter’s eyes flew to the prince the moment Feng Xin disappeared from sight.
He fell heavily back onto the base of the tree to bury his face in his hands.
Wu Ming wondered if he should intervene at all, but… Something about leaving Xie Lian alone like this after having witnessed that didn’t sit well with him. As quietly as he could, he slunk down to the ground. If Xie Lian heard his footsteps as he approached, he didn’t react.
“Are you trying to drive him off?” Wu Ming wondered.
Xie Lian tensed, but he didn’t raise his head. “...Refrain from commenting on matters you’re ignorant of.”
“Well, if you want to talk, I’m here. Then I won’t be ignorant.”
“What good will that do?” Xie Lian snorted, and finally, his hands fell away from his face. It was slightly red, his eyes shining, and Wu Ming felt his breath catch in his throat.
Still, he could only think to shrug. “No idea.”
Despite the splotchiness to his face, a smile tugged at his lips, frail and brittle. “...You certainly have a way with words, don’t you, nameless one?”
“I have a name,” he replied. “It’s Wu Ming, remember?”
“...You were serious about that?”
It was Wu Ming’s turn to smile. “Serious as the grave.”
“You’re ridiculous.” Perhaps it should be an insult, but Xie Lian’s words help no bite. Even better, the shine of unshed tears in his eyes had glossed into something softer, the emotions steadily evening out. It eased the pang in Wu Ming’s chest.
Then, Xie Lian’s eyes fell lower, and his face darkened again.
Wu Ming titled his head, wondering what it could be, but he froze when Xie Lian reached for him. He stopped just short of his fingers brushing his neck, and his eyes rose to meet Wu Ming’s mask.
“May I?”
He didn’t need to ask, not when Wu Ming was willing to give him anything he asked for and beyond, but it was kind nonetheless. Wu Ming nodded, his breath frozen in his lungs. Xie Lian’s fingers brushed skin, and Wu Ming felt warmth flood him.
Then, the touch was gone, as was the ache Wu Ming hadn’t noticed until it was no longer there.
Xie Lian settled back into the tree, his gaze going anywhere but Wu Ming. “I’m sorry. I acted rashly, before. I hope it didn’t hurt too much.”
Ah. With what Xie Lian had done when Wu Ming had first arrived, he must have developed bruises over his neck. Wu Ming didn’t particularly care—he hadn’t even noticed them. But now, as his own fingers ran over the skin, it wasn’t tender in the slightest.
“You can heal?” Wu Ming wondered.
Xie Lian simply nodded. “Only a little. Bruises are easy, but anything more serious is beyond me. I’m glad I didn’t get carried away, or it wouldn’t have been so easy to fix. I forget how fragile humans are.”
“Dianxia must have been holding back, then.” Despite himself, Wu Ming felt another smile tug at his lips beneath the mask. “This one is grateful.”
“Don’t be. I could’ve killed you.”
“But you didn’t.”
Xie Lian didn’t reply, his gaze again fixed on the ground. “Have you noticed? The edge of the forest is burned. Do you know why?”
“It was set on fire,” Wu Ming answered. He didn’t miss a beat, even when Xie Lian so abruptly changed the subject. “The village has been wanting to use the land for farming for a while now, but they were scared of facing the retribution of the forest’s god. They started burning it after they heard the god was dead.”
“I see. You know a lot.” Xie Lian raised his head, and this time, there was an accusation shining in those eyes.
He wasn’t scared; he’d faced worse, so he only nodded. “I’m from that village.”
“Then you benefited from its burning.”
“No,” he argued, “because I left. They haven’t had the time to cultivate the land yet, so I wouldn’t have benefitted.” Well, to say he left was generous when the situation was closer to having been driven out. He was the only to argue against the burning of the wood, and the other villagers had always hated him. They certainly wouldn’t listen to him, not even when he was an adult.
At this, Xie Lian seemed to relax. When he next looked at Wu Ming, it was with a tired softness. “I see. I can’t imagine it was easy, to leave your village when it was so close to more prosperity. For that, you have my thanks.”
“Actually, Dianxia, it was the easiest thing in the world. You don’t need to thank me.”
And then, finally, Xie Lian smiled.
It was dazzling, just as Wu Ming remembered it. But as an adult, that smile also had his heart fluttering.
“Still, important things should be said. So, thank you, Wu Ming.”
-/-/-
Xie Lian wasn’t restored to his former glory or temperament, not by a long shot, but as the days and nights passed, he grew softer and softer towards Wu Ming. The prince of the forest spench much of his time sleeping, but when he was awake, Wu Ming quickly grew addicted to teasing every smile and laugh he possibly could from Xie Lian.
It was more grueling than he imagined, and Wu Ming honestly didn’t have much practice with people. There were times when a careless word earned him Xie Lian’s ire, but it never lasted, thankfully.
The same couldn’t be said of Feng Xin. The servant dutifully checked on Xie Lian each day, and each day, the prince’s words and actions grew more and more vitriol. It was painful to watch, and no matter what, it never ceased to bother Wu Ming.
The moment Feng Xin left, the anger always evaporated, and Xie Lian would deflate like a puppet with its strings cut. Wu Ming thought about commenting, about asking, but he refrained. Instead, he always sat next to Xie Lian in these times, a show of quiet support.
No matter Xie Lian’s reasons, Wu Ming would support him.
And then, one day, “Why?”
Wu Ming blinked. The question came from nowhere, and Xie Lian refused to meet his eyes. Or... mask. “What are you asking about, Dianxia?”
“Why stay? You’ve seen what I’m like now. Why haven’t you left yet?”
That’s what he said, but Wu Ming could almost hear another question behind Xie Lian’s words. Why hasn’t Feng Xin left yet?
“The you who smiles is you,” Wu Ming said, “but the you who cries is also you. No matter what you feel, or the state you’re in, you are you, and that’s enough for me. Perhaps… There are others who feel the same as me.”
“Foolish.”
Wu Ming laughed. He couldn’t deny that. “Maybe. But Dianxia, isn’t it lonely to abandon people the moment they start to cry? Even when winter comes, the resolute will soldier through. You’re worth that.”
“I wonder,” Xie Lian sighed. “Mu Qing already left. Many of the little spirits have fled. I suspect it’s only a matter of time before everyone else leaves. But that’s for the best. This is a dying place, so moving on is better than this becoming everyone’s grave.”
Wu Ming only hummed non-commitaly at that. He pulled himself to his feet and extended a hand to Xie Lian, to where he was still curled against the bark of the tree.
“Will you take a walk with me?” Wu Ming asked. He had only been in the prince’s presence for a few weeks at the most, but never once had he seen Xie Lian leave this clearing. It was about time to change that, he thought.
Xie Lian’s face twisted, his eyes flitting between Wu Ming’s hand and the tree to his back. Its bark had withered and flaked in these weeks, so much so that it tugged at Xie Lian’s robes and frayed them now. Still, he always seemed to want to keep near the dead husk, reluctant to so much as break contact with it.
But Wu Ming could tell he wanted to take his hand.
“No,” he said finally. “But please, don’t let me keep you cooped up here. If you want to take a walk, then take a walk.”
Wu Ming withdrew his hand, grateful his mask hid the disappointment that must be plainly written over his features. He dipped his head and replied, “Then, I’ll see you when I’m back.”
The forest, at least, was a somewhat pleasant place to stroll through, even if it meant having to temporarily turn his back on Xie Lian. The scenery towards the forest’s heart was still lush with greenery, though Wu Ming noticed some of the leaves beginning to brown at the tips. It was easier to walk, too, with the underbrush growing more brittle and dry. It snapped with little resistance under his boots.
The forest really was dying. Time was running short.
It made him want to turn around immediately to return to Xie Lian’s side, but after hearing his words, there was something he needed to confirm.
The path was familiar, one he’d walked many times as a child and once before as an adult. It was easy enough to listen, to divert his path when he heard something, and to let his hand fall to the sword at his hip for the first time since setting foot in the forest.
The sound of metal scraping against a scabbard filled the forest air, and it was not Wu Ming’s own sword.
“I’d think carefully about that,” Wu Ming warned as he drew his own blade. “I won’t go easy on you. I’m kind of pissed, honestly.”
“Those should be my lines, stranger.” From behind a tree, a man with long silver hair pulled high and scowl that marred what others might consider a pretty face. His sword wasn’t raised, not yet, but it remained poised in one hand, ready to strike at a moment’s notice.
Wu Ming mirrored the stance. “Oh? So you’re actually good for something other than turning tail and hiding?”
“You—” The man nearly bit off his own lip in anger. “What do you know?! And what’s more, why are you hanging around His Highness?!”
“You’d know if you hadn’t run off.”
The man who must be Mu Qing raised his sword, and Wu Ming wasn’t one to back down from a fight.
He’d thought he’d noticed someone before Feng Xin had apprehended him and brought him to Xie Lian. He knew Xie Lian had two servants, so he had merely assumed one, Mu Qing, was keeping his distance. But after hearing Xie Lian talk… He believed the servant gone.
Except Mu Qing still hadn’t left the forest. He lingered in its outskirts, either out of cowardice or hesitance, and he never left for the same reasons. He simply wavered on the edge, refusing to fall one way or the other.
A traitor but not.
Their swords met, a clash of metal amidst the woods. It was surprisingly easy to keep pace with Mu Qing—Wu Ming’s experience was limited and he had the disadvantage of being human, but Mu Qing’s movements were slow. Bags darkened his eyes, and his arms shook each time his blade absorbed one of Wu Ming’s strikes.
He looked just as unwell as Xie Lian.
Still, even if it was unfair to press such an advantage, no one had played fair with Wu Ming when he had been nothing but a weak child. He pushed forward, until Mu Qing’s back hit a tree and the servant baulked in surprise. Wu Ming took the chance to wrench the blade from his grasp and poise his own blade at Mu Qing’s neck.
“It seems this match is mine,” Wu Ming said, his smile prevalent in his voice. “What do you have to say for yourself, traitor?”
Mu Qing’s eyes narrowed, and he betrayed not a hint of fear at having his life dangled before him. “If you’re going to end it, end it. I’m not going to stoop to begging a human for my life, if that’s what you want.”
Wu Ming did think about it. The reason for much of Xie Lian’s anguish, his insecurity, the insistence that everyone would leave… It was this man’s fault. Xie Lian’s happiness was worth hundreds of lives to him, so one shouldn’t faze him.
And yet. This was Xie Lian’s friend, traitor or not.
What reason he had for appearing to leave Xie Lian while still lingering in the woods like a lost soul, Wu Ming couldn’t guess. And from the prideful sneer marring Mu Qing’s face even as cold metal nipped at the skin of his neck, Wu Ming doubted he would explain.
So he withdrew his sword and stepped back, watching with a prideful resentment as Mu Qing’s sneer faded to confusion. “Consider this a warning. No one likes an indecisive brat, so you need to decide to stay or go.”
“Brat?!”
Wu Ming snorted, ignoring Mu Qing’s indignance in favor of starting down the path he’d come from. Mu Qing didn’t follow after him, but Wu Ming could feel the force of his glare until he was well out of sight.
He tried to bottle down the frustration as he made his way back to Xie Lian, but… He couldn’t settle his mind. He’d gotten confirmation on not one but two suspicions, both of which explained Xie Lian’s behavior, but none of it changed anything.
Time was still running out.
-/-/-
“Would you care to take a walk with me?”
Wu Ming always asked, and Xie Lian always looked at him with uncertainty shining in his eyes. He would always look at Wu Ming’s hand, always so close to saying yes, but he would always curl back into dead bark and refuse.
Except this time, he finally nodded and reached forward. His hand wasn’t warm in Wu Ming’s, but it was still enough to have his heart racing. It only raced faster when he pulled Xie Lian to his feet, but instead of letting go, the prince's hand squeezed his own.
“Are you sure, Dianxia?”
“You’ve asked so many times,” Xie Lian replied. “I… One stroll won’t hurt anything, will it?”
Wu Ming smiled beneath the mask. “Then I’m honored, Dianxia.”
Xie Lian walked at a leisurely pace, his steps dragging in the dirt. Wu Ming didn’t comment and matched his pace. He relished the feeling of Xie Lian’s hand in his. Xie Lian hadn’t let go yet, so…
“Where are we going?” Xie Lian asked, after they’d walked war enough for the tree to disappear from sight. Xie Lian still looked over his shoulder, his eyes flying over the horizon and the treeline in search of it again. He looked almost ready to jump out of his own skin.
“Just around.” Wu Ming traced patterns into the back of Xie Lian’s hand, though he didn’t seem to notice the action. That Xie Lian would step out of the comfort of his den just for Wu Ming’s sake… It both warmed his heart and made it ache. “If Dianxia wants to return, just say the word. I don’t want you to go out of your way for my sake.”
“No, it’s alright. It’s just a stroll.”
Wu Ming smiled again, but he knew Xie Lian couldn’t see it. Xie Lian really was too good, wasn’t he? Even in pain, he was good. “Thank you. But please, let me know if you change your mind.”
“Alright, if Wu Ming insists, then I will.” Xie Lian shot him a shaky smile back, and Wu Ming gently squeezed his hand.
It was said there was no worse luck than his, but for all he’d suffered at the hands of others, maybe his luck wasn’t so bad if it had brought him to Xie Lian.
They walked in silence from then on, with Mu Wing continuing to trace comforting patterns into Xie Lian’s hand. He never once tried to pull away or protest, so Wu Ming never stopped. Even as the greenery around them died, replaced by burnt husks, and Xie Lian’s smile died along with.
He quietly endured until he finally asked, “Wu Ming, what is this? Why are we going this way?” Xie Lian’s gait stopped in its tracks, and with their hands still connected, Wu Ming stopped along with it.
“I saw something interesting the other day,” Wu Ming answered. “I wanted to show it to Gege, if that’s alright? If you want to turn back, then we can.”
Xie Lian chewed at his lower lip. “I… No, let’s continue.”
“Thank you, Dianxia.”
Wu Ming truly was thankful, because they were already so close to where he wanted to take Xie Lian. Still, if he had wanted to return without seeing it, Wu Ming wouldn’t have protested. He refused to force Xie Lian into doing anything he didn’t want, or anything at all that might break the tenuous trust between them.
It took only another hundred or so heartbeats for them to arrive. Wu Ming grinned beneath the mask as he stepped to the side, allowing Xie Lian to take in the sight.
A small brook ran through the forest here, and although much of what was once life was now ashes, new growth had sprung from the water’s banks. Vines curled up the charred remains of trees, and several trees that looked for all the world like they were dead had the buds of new branches sprouting from them. Tiny seedlings were peaking over through the ashe, a promise of a new future to come.
“The forest isn’t dying,” Wu Ming said. “It’s coming back. No matter how many times something is beat down, so long as a speck of life remains, it can always stand anew again.”
Xie Lian frowned. He strode forward, leaving Wu Ming in his wake, and he crossed the little stream headless of the way the water lapped at the ends of his robes and soaked them. He knelt next to the nearest growth and cupped it gently in his hands.
The little thing burst to life, growing at an impossible rate. Xie Lian drew himself up to his feet and stepped back as a tree rose before him. Branches took shape, then leaves, and finally thousands of flowers bloomed, all in the span of seconds. The newly born wisteria tree decorated the air with its petals, and Wu Ming couldn’t help but have the breath stolen from him at the sight.
And then, they faded to dust, their color and scent nothing but a memory. They left nothing behind but barren branches.
Xie Lian sighed, but his back was still turned to Wu Ming. He couldn’t tell what kind of expression the prince might be wearing. “It’s not enough. This is the only possible result. My power can only take the forest so far; without a heart, it’s still doomed to die.”
“That can’t be right,” Wu Ming said. Still, Xie Lian refused to turn around and face him. “The forest has two hearts. You are as much its heart as the tree was—you were its child, its successor.”
At that, Xie Lian visibly stiffened. When he next spoke, his voice was low. “You seem to know a lot. Where did you hear all this nonsense?”
“An old wandering priest who stopped by the village,” Wu Ming answered honestly. At this point, there was no use in hiding anything from Xie Lian. If he asked, Wu Ming would answer. “He was also the one who gave me this mask.”
“And old man?” Xie Lian clicked his tongue and turned on a heel to face Wu Ming. His eyes shone, but no tears stained his cheeks. “Did he enjoy card games and reading fortunes?”
“You know him,” Wu Ming guessed.
“Yes. I’d assumed he’d stopped caring, since all this managed to happen without me seeing a trace of him.”
Ah, well. If Xie Lian and that priest were acquainted with one another, then why he urged Wu Ming to return to this forest made sense.
“Your life is short. You were destined to die before your eighteenth birthday, but you’ve already overstayed your lot. Do you want a choice in how it ends, or are you happy to wait for your misfortune to catch up with you?”
Wu Ming sighed. “He said that you, too, are the forest’s heart.”
“Perhaps, in a manner of speaking,” Xie Lian relented, “but gods grow in power with age and belief. I don’t compare to the tree; it was over a millennia old, and I’m not even a century. I was meant to serve as its guardian until I was able to take over some of its domain, but I failed. It’s impossible—I couldn’t even protect it from a weak human. How could I replace it?”
“If anyone could do it, it would be you.”
Something flashed through Xie Lian’s eyes, a mix of pain and gratitude. “I used to think that, that I could do anything I put my mind to. But look where that led me. There’s nothing left. It doesn’t matter, one way or another.”
“It matters to me,” Wu Ming insisted. Frustration getting the better of him, he vaulted over the stream in a single leap to land right before Xie Lian. The prince’s only response was a blank stare, but it didn’t deter Wu Ming. “To me, you will always be that same prince. Not because you’re perfect, or because I think you can do anything, but because the you who is kind is still you. Your strength isn’t your power or talent, it’s your character. Of course it’s harder now. It’s always harder to smile when crawling through the mud, but you still do, even now. So it matters to me, because you are you, and I will always believe in you.”
It took Wu Ming’s brain a few moments to catch up with what he’d said, and he had to resist the urge to kick himself. Such a declaration… He was aware of his own feelings, but Xie Lian didn’t need to know of them. That’d he had said all that was practically a dead giveaway when Wu Ming had meant to keep his silence on the matter.
And yet, Xie Lian’s eyes widened. Not with disgust, but with unshed tears. And his mouth didn’t downturn into a frown—instead, a brilliant smile broke over his features. “Wu Ming… you really are a strange human. But thank you. That someone still feels this way…” Suddenly, Xie Lian squeezed his eyes shut and slapped his face. The tears fell, and Wu Ming’s hands twitched to pull his hands from his face and wipe them away. But then, Xie Lian looked up at him and again smiled through the tears. “I’ve been a bit selfish, haven’t I? Giving up on everything… But if I have even one believer, if even one human can be kind, then that should be enough. No, it is enough. I’m not sure if I can still do anything, but I’ll try. It’s not fair to everyone else in the forest for me to give up without doing so.”
Wu Ming felt himself warm at the words. He couldn’t help the ear splitting smile beneath his mask, and never had he felt so light before. “Whatever you decide, I’ll support you, but those are good words. I’ll do what I can, too.”
“Silly,” Xie Lian laughed. “You’re a human. Although humans caused this problem, it’s not yours to fix. It’s beyond you, anyway. But I appreciate the sentiment.”
“Dianxia is underestimating me,” Wu Ming chided, but his tone was light. “There are things even this one can do.”
Unbidden, a smile to match Wu Ming’s own bloomed over Xie Lian’s lips. “I’ll be looking forward to seeing what that is, then, but you’ve already done so much for me. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to properly repay you.”
“Just you is enough. Just keep being yourself, and I will be happy.”
Eyes glistening, Xie Lian stared at him for a moment before he took a step forward. With the last bit of distance between them, Xie Lian reached up. His fingers ghosted the edge of Wu Ming’s mask.
Wu Ming stepped back, a hand rushing up to firmly clasp the mask against his face.
Xie Lian blinked in surprise. Then, his face twisted. “Ah, forgive me. I should have asked, but… I wanted to see your face, to know what kind of expression you were making when saying such words. There weren’t any other spirits to see you, so I thought… But please, the fault is mine. I was the one who told you not to take the mask off. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Dianxia…” Slowly, Mu Wing shook his head. “I’m sorry. If I could, I’d take it off. But…”
“Don’t worry. You may keep the mask on or off—the decision is yours, and yours alone. It was a selfish impulse, and I’m sorry to let it bother you.”
Again, Wu Ming shook his head, but he had no clue how to alay Xie Lian’s guilt. “Please, you don’t need to apologize to me. It’s fine.”
If he could, he’d show Xie Lian everything. His scars, his ugliness, his hatred. He’d already seen some of it, and he hadn’t cast Wu Ming out or called him a monster for it. That was enough to give him hope, but not enough to chase away years of self-hatred and abuse.
His eye… He simply wasn’t ready for Xie Lian to see it.
“Let’s return,” Wu Ming said, holding out his hand for Xie Lian.
The prince smiled again, warm and soft. Some of the edge had faded, so while it was still a sad and old smile, it seemed much less fake than before.
It was a start.
And, Xie Lian took his hand without hesitating, even still.
Wu Ming felt like he could stay here, holding Xie Lian’s hand and strolling through the new beginnings of his forest, forever. It was a shame it would all end soon.
-/-/-
Wu Ming watched the steady rise and fall of Xie Lian’s chest, the only light cast on him from the waning light of the moon. He was cradled in the arms of dead bark, as he always was when he slept. The tree’s branches still stretched far into the sky, its roots so deep as to split the rock of the earth’s core, even dead. It was truly a magnificent sight, even without its former power or life, and its son was a reflection of that.
Wu Ming pulled himself up from his seat and approached the tree without making a sound. Had it been his fight night here, he had no doubt Xie Lian would have stirred and stopped him from drawing near. But he’d watched as Xie Lian grew weaker and weaker, his sleep lasting longer and longer and less and less able to draw him from it.
When Xie Lian said the forest’s end was near, it was not an empty sentiment. And as its heart, Xie Lian would die along with it, if nothing was done.
He ran a hand over chipped bark, and it flaked away with each brush of his fingers. “I remember you,” he said in a voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. “I never saw your power, but your flowers were pretty. And... I love your son. I hate the gods, but for birthing and protecting Xie Lian… you must not have been all that bad.”
He withdrew his hand and let his eyes fall to Xie Lian’s still sleeping form.
“The black sword he wields is a dangerous one he should’ve thrown away long ago, but at least, you can use it now. It’s powerful enough to shatter a human soul, given the right circumstances.”
He’d left his own sword back at the clearing’s edge, since he hadn’t had a need for it in a long time. Quietly, Wu Ming knelt next to the prince. He held his breath as he unfastened the sword from Xie Lian’s belt. He thought for sure this would wake him, but his breathing remained even.
When Wu Ming pulled back with the black sword in hand, he almost breathed out in relief. But no, his job wasn’t done quite yet.
But…
He leaned forward, tipping his mask back. He stared at Xie Lian for the first time in a decade without the mask filtering the sight, without bandages blocking the vision from one eye. He couldn’t help but shiver at the idea that his eye was uncovered, but he gathered his courage to lean down and brush his lips against Xie Lian’s forehead.
“I wish I had time to show you,” he said quietly. “Continue to be you. Continue to live. That will be enough for me.”
With that, Wu Ming began the arduous task of scaling the massive tree. The crumbling bark was both a help and hindrance. While it made it easier to make handholds from himself when there were no branches to rely on, those handholds were just as likely to fracture under his weight. It was a miracle he didn’t once tumble to the ground.
It took what felt like too long for him to catch sight of his goal. Whispers tickled his ears, but he ignored them. The little spirits were gathering, their voices too weak to be heard and their light faint enough to almost be drowned out by the moonlight, but Wu Ming just hoped they wouldn’t stir Xie Lian or call Feng Xin here before he could finish what needed to be done.
“That tree grew a bit funny. It has a ‘heart’ just as any living creature. I’m guessing it was once a god with flesh, but one of the ways to obtain immortality is to become one with nature in such a way. The tree is probably what remains of a god who gave up their flesh, which is why it was still able to generate offspring of its original nature.
“But… Ah, history and speculation aside, this just means you need to unleash the spell at the thing’s ‘heart’ for it to work. Just climb it without dying, and I’m sure you’ll see it.”
“Thanks for nothing, you useless old man,” Wu Ming muttered under his breath, though the insults were pointless with the object unable to hear them.
Still, it was not a moment later when a break in the seemingly endless trunk of the monstrously behemoth tree came into view. Grateful for horizontal ground, Wu Ming pulled himself up onto it with breath coming short from the exertion, but he was breathless for an entirely different reason not a moment later.
The tree had grown oddly to allow this to happen, but where the trunk ended and branched out into the towering canopy of dead wood, there was a large hallow. Large enough, in fact, for a temple of wood, which once must have lived and breathed with the tree as a living part of it, the walls growing directly from the tree’s own trunk.
It was a temple crafted for the worship of the gods by the gods’ own hands. It was simple and plain, but it was also far larger than the humble temple the village had managed to construct to honor the gods of rain and fertility.
With only another moment of hesitation, Wu Ming strode towards the plain temple with black sword in hand. If the old man spoke of heart to the tree, then this temple must be what housed it. Not a temple of worship, he realized, but one meant to shield and protect something sacred.
“Trespasser, trespasser!”
“A traitor! Another traitor!”
“End him!”
The air around him sparked, pricking at his skin, and the little voices of the many spirits which lived in the forest buzzed for the first time since Wu Ming arrived. He wanted to console them, or to dispel them for giving him away, but he knew he could do neither.
For now, he could only ignore them and hope they were as unable to stop him as he was powerless to silence them.
The pricking of the spirits’ presence turned to shooting pain as Wu Ming crossed the temple’s threshold. Their voices grew angrier, as well. They morphed into an incoherent rage, one of which Wu Ming didn’t even try to listen to or comprehend.
He was used to being hated. He was used to pain. With just this, they couldn’t stop him.
Pressing as his situation may be, Wu Ming did take a moment to survey the inside of the temple to pick a suitable location. It was nearly as plain as the outside, save for two statues that stretched from the wood like blooming branches. The wood sculpted itself into the likeness of a dragon and a phoenix, standing guard at the center of the temple around nothing.
The voices in his ear shrieked as he stepped between them and knelt to run his hand over what must have once been the tree’s heart. What else would a phoenix and a dragon guard?
A rustling of fabric was the only thing that alerted Wu Ming to a newcomer before, in a voice he would recognize anywhere, he shouted, “Don’t hurt him! That’s an order!”
The words did nothing to ease the pain running through his skin, but it did make him smile. He spared a glance back to watch as a new growth deposited Xie Lian on the tree. It withered the moment Xie Lian’s touch left it, but he was too busy scrambling towards Wu Ming and stumbling along the way to notice or care.
Wu Ming had to hurry.
It took nearly every ounce of his willpower to turn away from Xie Lian and bring a hand to his mask. Slowly, he lifted it, and he ignored the way it made the pain so, so much worse. The screaming was nearly deafening.
“Wu Ming! Put it back on! They’re not listening, please!”
Xie Lian’s voice was still far off enough that Wu Ming had plenty of time to drop the mask to the ground and raise the black sword.
“Human souls are a bit tricky to shatter on your own… But I’ll make it a bit easier for you. I’ll bind your soul to that mask, and that way, it’ll help shield you, too. Destroying it will also destroy your soul.”
“A human soul to curse the wood,” Wu Ming said, not daring to turn around, “and a human soul to save it. Not a bad trade, right?”
“Wu Ming! Stop!”
Xie Lian’s words ran empty. They did nothing to stop the blade as it struck true, as it pierced the mask and shattered it beyond repair.
Wu Ming felt nothing but light as he turned back for one last look at Xie Lian. He knew he must look like a monster, red eye and scars completely uncovered, but…
Xie Lian wasn’t disgusted. Not a trace of the hatred he’d shown the first day, of the hatred he’d shown humanity, of the hatred Wu Ming had endured from the beginning of his memory—Wu Ming couldn’t even see a hint of it.
No. For once, someone was crying. For him.
Xie Lian was crying for him.
Wu Ming smiled, before it ended. And in that moment, selfishly, he was happy.
-/-/-
The seasons passed, and the forest grew anew. Nature always found a way, whether against the will of humans or by the will of the gods.
Neither of those allowed this forest to grow, though. Rather, it was the hatred of a human who loved that poisoned it, and the love of a human who hated that revived it.
Xie Lian would not forget. He refused.
He leaned against the walls of the temple, staring at the place Wu Ming had stood before shattering. The bark beneath his hands breathed new life, but it was not the same life it once had. A seedling had been planted in place of the tree’s dead heart, and it was what grew now.
A new life tree, fit for the rebirth of a forest, created from the remains of the former tree.
It had been difficult for Xie Lian to do, and it wasn’t exactly what he had wanted. It had been difficult to gather his thoughts after Wu Ming had departed, but waiting wasn’t an option. Wu Ming’s shattered soul had undone Lang Ying’s curse. Only because of that was Xie Lian able to plant the seeds of new life within the dead husk of a tree.
The new seedling was still small, but as Xie Lian knelt before it, he knew it would grow well. The presence of the phoenix and the dragon to either side was weak but present. All the sapling needed was time, and Xie Lian would fulfill his duty and give it just that.
He pulled himself to his feet and left the temple, white robes untouched by time and wear billowing around him. He jumped once he reached the edge, and the forest air rushed up to meet him and slow his descent. When his feet met the ground, the grass sang beneath his feet.
Finally, the forest breathed again.
As joyful a sound it was, Xie Lian ignored it in favor of rushing to the divet in the tree he used to spend so much time in. There, new greenery grew, but it was nothing like the flourishing tree it stemmed from. Red speckled its stem, and its leaves were barbed. It was too young to bear flowers, but Xie Lian knew, when it did, they would be beautiful and bloom the color of blood.
He touched one of the still small leaves, breathing a sigh of relief when he felt the life coursing through it. It was growing well. It would take time, but it would eventually bear flowers.
And when it did…
“Is that wise?”
Xie Lian didn’t have to turn around to know who it was, but that was fine. He’d always trusted Feng Xin with his back in the past. “Most likely… It’s not. But I’m doing it.”
A sigh. Then, rustling, as though Feng Xin intended to turn and leave it at that. Guilt coursed through Xie Lian, and all the vile things he’d spat at Feng Xin swam up to the forefront of his mind. Perhaps it was best if Feng Xin left, but he hadn’t. He stubbornly stayed by Xie Lian’s side, no matter how terrible he’d been or how low he’d sunk.
It was not a loyalty to be taken lightly, or a friendship to be so easily discarded.
“Wait,” Xie Lian called back. Feng Xin froze. “Would you come sit with me?”
“...Is that an order?”
Xie Lian shook his head and felt a sad smile take over his features. “No. It’s a request from a friend.”
With quiet steps, Feng Xin returned. He sat in the grass next to Xie Lian, just as he’d asked. Xie Lian knew, whether it was an order from the prince or a request from a friend, he would have joined him.
“I’m sorry,” Xie Lian said, diverting his eyes towards the plant in front of them. “I won’t make excuses. I acted horribly.”
Feng Xin sighed. “You were trying to get me to leave. I guessed that much.”
“...The forest was dying. Mu Qing had already left. I thought it for the best, but you seemed like you were going to stay no matter what. But also…”
Xie Lian’s hands were shaking, so he quietly tucked them into his lap. Feng Xin waited with a patience unlike him. It was enough to have Xie Lian smiling through the fear.
“...I was terrified you would leave, too.”
Feng Xin snorted. “You were scared I would leave, so you tried to get me to leave? You’re almost as dumb as Mu Qing.”
“I know.”
“Mu Qing didn’t leave, not fully. He’s been lurking at the edge of the woods,” Feng Xin said.
Xie Lian blinked, and he finally turned to face Feng Xin. He thought it must be some sort of cheap lie to make him feel better, but he caught himself. Feng Xin, honest to a fault, wasn’t one to do that. If Feng Xin said something, then it was because it was true or because he believed it to be so.
“Mu Qing is still here?” Xie Lian breathed. “I thought… I thought there was no way he’d stay. He said he was leaving, and I haven’t seen him since.”
Feng Xin shook his head. “He’s lingering at the edge, just outside of your domain, the indecisive ass.”
“Well…” Xie Lian sighed, feeling both lighter and heavier all at once. That Mu Qing hadn’t left meant there was still hope where Xie Lian had seen none before, but what if he failed again? What if, whatever he did, it wouldn’t be enough to repair the friendship they’d once shared? Did he even want to make amends with him?
As if guessing his thoughts, Feng Xin added, “Give it time. If he hasn’t left yet, he’s not going anywhere. I say good riddance, but whatever you decide, I’ll support you. Just take things at your own pace.”
“Thank you,” Xie Lian whispered, because he wasn’t sure what else to say. He’d have to start untangling his own feelings and most likely Mu Qing’s eventually, but for now, it was a matter to worry about when he was ready for it.
“And I wasn’t leaving, for the record,” Feng Xin said. “Not when you were weak and the tree had just died. I didn’t help much, but…”
Xie Lian shook his head, then turned to shoot Feng Xin a smile. “My problems are mine, whether we are friends or not. No matter the circumstances, it was wrong of me to lash out at you. Just staying by my side in spite of that is already more than I deserved at the time.”
Feng Xin looked like he may want to argue, but Xie Lian didn’t give him the chance to.
“So… thank you, Feng Xin.”
Slowly, a smile tugged at his lips. “Of course, Your Highness.”
They sat in silence for several more moments, but Xie Lian didn’t miss the way Feng Xin’s eyes kept wandering to the unnatural growth on the tree’s bark.
“A demon flower,” Xie Lian finally explained. “It’s said to have the power to gather the shattered fragments of souls and give birth to a demon. The new seedling’s roots haven’t spread this far and won’t for some time, so I’m using the husk of the old tree to fertilize it. It should speed the process along faster.”
“You’re trying to bring that human back as a demon.”
Xie Lian smiled, but it felt forced. “Guilty as charged. He shattered his soul while still living, which will make it difficult for the soul to ever become whole again on its own. As matters stand, it will be hard for him to pass on or even become a ghost… This way, at least, if I can gather the fragments of his soul for him, he can make the choice of what to do from there. If he doesn’t want to live as a demon, then I will purify him and send him off.”
Feng Xin hummed. Obviously, he didn’t seem too happy with Xie Lian’s plans, but he wasn’t arguing against them, either. Creating a demon was no small matter, and to use the empty husk of the old tree for it…
How low Xie Lian had sunk, but for once, he didn’t care. He didn’t feel like he was doing the wrong thing, repaying that human for his kindness, for his smile, for his sacrifice. To leave things as they were was just too sad, and Xie Lian refused to accept such an ending.
And… There was a small part of him that hoped Wu Ming wouldn’t mind living as a demon. That he would be happy to stay by Xie Lian’s side, to talk and smile more and more.
For that possibility, Xie Lian would wait as long as necessary.
“How long?” Feng Xin asked.
“A long time, probably.”
“Then, I’ll be waiting here with you.”
Xie Lian couldn’t help the smile, nor the tears that pricked at the corners of his eyes. “Thank you.”
At the very least, no matter how long it took, he wouldn’t be alone.