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“Have you heard, have you heard?” Cangse Sanren shifts closer to Yu Ziyuan, knocking their knees together. She leans in, mischief and moonlight painting her features. “Jiang Fengmian is apparently beginning to court for a wife.”
Yu Ziyuan folds her hands into the sleeves of her robes, keeping her eyes fixed on the night sky. She shifts her feet underneath her, settling just so into her spot on the roof, highly aware that Cangse Sanren is still waiting for her response. Yu Ziyuan likes to keep Cangse Sanren waiting— likes to think that she might be the only one capable of doing so. Finally, when Cangse Sanren is practically vibrating out of her seat, Yu Ziyuan murmurs, “Is that so?” She lets the words trickle out of her mouth, one by one, pausing again, before saying, “I suppose you heard it from the horse’s mouth directly.”
Cangse Sanren’s sparkling eyes go wider, if that’s even possible. “Why yes I did!” she says, brushing her long ponytail back. “How’d you possibly guess?”
Yu Ziyuan sniffs. “You’re as obtuse as ever,” she says. “As if everyone doesn’t know he’s three quarters of the way in love with you.”
“Jiang Fengmian? No way!” Cangse Sanren pulls back, a frown now pulling at the edges of her mouth. “We’re friends. Good friends.”
“I bet you were the first one to know, weren’t you,” Yu Ziyuan says, voice lighter now. “He lowered his voice all manly like and said he wanted you to be the first to know.”
Cangse Sanren nods vigorously and laughs. “He did! He did! Why Yu-guniang, who would know that you were so observant?”
“You’re just oblivious.” Yu Ziyuan stands from her spot on the roof. She supposes a quiet night is no longer in question now that Cangse Sanren has arrived. The other girl, barely seventeen, had arrived at the Yu’s main household two days ago, complaining that her feet were much too tired to go. And as a respected cultivator and student of Baoshan Sanren’s, of course she was granted a place to stay, no matter how much Yu Ziyuan would like to protest. Cangse Sanren’s presence made Yu Ziyuan restless in a way that she normally isn’t.
Tonight, the restlessness has settled into an itch on her shoulders. She feels the tension coiled underneath them, and tries to soothe it away. No luck.
“Hey, I heard your sister talking about some unwanted creatures in a cave that are causing trouble for everyone,” Cangse Sanren says.
Yu Ziyuan tears her gaze from the stars. The other girl is sprawled in the most undignified way, but her gaze is solely fixed on Yu Ziyuan. “Is that so?” Yu Ziyuan says, carefully keeping her voice neutral.
“Mhmmm.” Cangse Sanren’s dark brown eyes don’t wave from Yu Ziyuan. “How about it? I could use a partner.”
Yu Ziyuan hums again, considering, clenching her fist. If Zidian were an actual snake, she thinks it might positively hiss in joy. “Surely, the powerful Cangse Sanren doesn’t need my help?”
“Night hunting is boring on your own,” Cangse Sanren practically whines.
“Not necessarily a reason for me to join.” Oh she’d desperately like to wrap Zidian around some poor creature’s neck.
“Ah! Unless the formidable Yu Ziyuan is scared? ”
Yu Ziyuan bares her teeth in a grin. “Surely, you don’t think I’m some dimwitted man that would fall for that trick.” Tossing her head, she gracefully drops from the roof, intent on heading back to her rooms. She has better things to do than entertain a girl with air in her head.
Cangse Sanren drops in front of Yu Ziyuan without a sound. When she straightens, her eyes glitter with the brightness of the stars themselves. “Come on. I want to see the Violet Spider in action.”
Yu Ziyuan tilts her head at her. The wind whistles past them, whipping Cangse Sanren’s hair all the way back. She looks like a wind spirit sent in the middle of the night to whisk Yu Ziyuan away. Straightening to her full height, Yu Ziyuan says, “Well, I suppose I can’t ignore such a request.”
***
Between the two of them, it should have been an easy night hunt. Somehow, Yu Ziyuan thinks as she catches the fangs of an unreported demon wolf with her sword, that Cangse Sanren has never had an easy night hunt in her life. Yu Ziyuan, flicks her sword, and kicks the wolf back with her right foot, sending it flying, and twirls just in time to catch the next one. It’s pitch black, and her nose is filled with the smells of rotting flesh and sulfur. Yu Ziyuan disposes of the second wolf, only to hear the howls of another. How many of them are there? she wonders, incredulously. And how had no one reported them?
“Cangse Sanren,” she calls out, voice crisp and clear. “Jump!”
“What? Why?” the other yells back. “I don’t think the wolf’s really scared of acrobatics!”
“Just trust me!” It sounds ridiculous—Yu Ziyuan surely wouldn't do such a thing. But Cangse Sanren looks behind her and nods. With all her might, she disengages with the creature and takes to the air.
And Yu Ziyuan, Yu Ziyuan flicks her right wrist and the blinding, purplle light of Zidian crackles into existence, blasting the darkness aside, rage and thunder all wrapped in one. She whips it a circle once, twice, thrice, cutting easily through flesh and fur and fangs. When she calls Zidian back, the night is absent of any howling or snarling.
Cangse Sanren laughs with fierce joy as she lands in front of Yu Ziyuan. “You’re amazing! ” she crows, swinging an arm around Yu Ziyuan’s neck. She smells like blood and dog breath and oranges all mixed into one. “An electric whip, ahh , how inspired, how wonderful! Truly a weapon class of its own.”
Yu Ziyuan disentangles herself from Cangse Sanren, pleased despite herself. She shakes that off and sneers. “Truly, I’m glad to live up to your expectations. I couldn’t bear to live with myself if I didn’t.”
Cangse Sanren stares a bit longer than Yu Ziyuan expects—long enough that she wonders if she’s finally offended her. Then, she lets out a cackle. An actual godforsaken cackle . “I like you. You’re funnier than others have said,” she declares.
Yu Ziyuan thinks she should be offended. Instead, she’s too busy tracing Cangse Sanren’s face with her eyes: the blood streaked down her chin, and the freckles softened in the moonlight.
She closes her eyes. “Come. Let’s head back.”
Cangse Sanren agrees cheerfully, looping an arm back through Yu Ziyuan’s. They travel back slower, adrenaline fading. Yu Ziyuan finds she doesn’t mind so much. The fall night is crisp and cool, a welcome respite from the punishing summer they had. Leaves crunch underneath her feet, and the air sighs as they walk past the woods and back home. Soon, she thinks wistfully, it will be winter, and snow will come, and they will hide in their mountains, with little to no visitors.
Just a few feet away from the compound’s gate, Cangse Sanren comes up short. “Hey,” she says.
Yu Ziyuan slows her stride. “Yes?”
There’s no response. Instead: Cangse Sanren places two hands gently on Yu Ziyuan’s face and pulls her in closely. Yu Ziyuan’s nearly too shocked to stop her—and then there’s no stopping her. Years later, Yu Ziyuan will remember this: Cangse Sanren’s mouth covers her own smoothly, without regrets, as if it was simply the only right thing to do at that moment.
When she pulls away, Cangse Sanren smiles and says, “I’ve wanted to do that since I saw your frowning face this morning.”
***
Cangse Sanren stays for a few days. She leaves for a week, and Yu Ziyuan forgets her presence, until suddenly she’s back again for a few weeks. And then it’s two months, and the leaves are blooming beautifully orange and deep reds and white flowers blooming next to the mountains. They share tea and they go night hunting and Cangse Sanren flirts with everyone imaginable, including Yu Ziyuan. Yu Ziyuan never breaks in front of the others, but after a night hunt, when their adrenaline is high and her heart is still racing, she lets Cangse Sanren capture her mouth and press her down into the leaves and the cool dirt, and curl her hands underneath her robes. And then Yu Ziyuan feels her heart beat faster than she has ever, even when she snuck her own hands down, and she arches into Cangse Sanren, until her mind goes blank.
Of all the time they spend together, this is the only time when Cangse Sanren doesn’t speak. In those evenings, she’s almost muted. Yu Ziyuan wonders how someone can feel so close during the day, and yet like a half finished painting in the night. Like the painter hasn’t quite finished the edges of her, rounded out the personality. Every moment, she changes, moving with the evening. Yu Ziyuan tries to hold her in place, paint her with her mind, with her mouth, with her fingers. She imagines the two of them side-by-side: two of the most powerful female cultivators their generation had seen. What could stop them? she thinks fervently.
The leaves of autumn begin to drop, one by one, and the flowers curl back in on themselves. On the coldest day so far, Cangse Sanren stands at the front gates, eyes now going far past them. Yu Ziyuan follows her gaze and sees them go beyond their mountains, beyond their fields, and beyond her. Her bags are already packed; she only had one to begin with, that she had carried on her shoulder almost every day for the past months.
“I’m not really one for the winter,” Cangse Sanren laments. She raises a hand to her hair, running one hand through it, already restless. “I think I might go stay in Yumeng for a bit.”
Yu Ziyuan frowns. “With Jiang Fengmian?” she says.
“Of course, who else! I bet that slow bastard still hasn’t picked out a beautiful lady to court,” Cangse Sanren flicks her hair back. “He’s an absolute disaster without me, ya know?”
“Aren’t we all,” Yu Ziyuan says, icy. “Just beholden to the whims of the prestigious Cangse Sanren.”
“Aww, don’t be like that.” She takes Yu Ziyuan’s hands between her. “I’ll be back here before you know it. Mark my words, the first day of spring!”
“And if spring takes too long to come?” Yu Ziyuan says, now amused.
“Then I’ll whisk away to the heavens and see that they speed the seasons up.”
Yu Ziyuan almost laughs. If anyone could do that, she thinks Cangse Sanren could.
***
The first snow of winter falls that evening, coating all of Meishan Yu. The children run out into the streets, giggles and laughter filling the air. Sticky, sweet buns are passed back and forth along with piping hot tea, as the sect settles in quietly. Yu Ziyuan returns to her duties that she neglected: helping the disciples train, coordinating the winter festival. There are less night hunts now, and even less that thrill her. Zidian crackles listlessly when they hunt ghosts, and to her horror, she finds herself thinking of Cangse Sanren in her spare time. Of her laugh that filled the air: a challenge to any creature that walked in her way.
Somehow, Yu Ziyuan doubts Cangse Sanren spends so much time thinking about her.
The new year comes and goes, and then the snow begins to thaw. Spring appears, and Yu Ziyuan keeps looking toward the gates. But no one shows. The spring blooms nicely, and their farmers begin to lay the seeds of her land.
And then, a lone visitor shows up, and her mother calls her frantically into the room. Without any warning, she’s shoved into their welcoming area.
She allows herself exactly one moment to hope. And is promptly let down.
“Jiang-gongzi.” Yu Ziyuan salutes, then scans the man up and down. “This is quite a surprise.”
Jiang Fengmian bows properly, a benign smile pasted on his face. Yu Ziyuan doesn’t think she’s ever seen him without it. Truly, an uninspiring person if she’s ever seen one. “I hope you’re well.”
“I am.” She hesitates. Though she and Jiang Fengmian had been classmates and had gone on many night hunts with Cangse Sanren together, she can't recall the last time they had a full conversation. She decides to start safe: “Would you like some tea?”
Jiang Fengmian looks instantly relieved. “That would be most welcomed, yes, thank you.”
Yu Ziyuan inclines her head and calls a few servants. They are served much too quickly, and then the two are facing one another across the way.
Jiang Fengmian clears his throat. “Well, I suppose I shall start, as I’m the one who has rudely shown up unannounced.”
“That would be appropriate,” Yu Ziyuan says.
“Yes well. To put it bluntly,” he hedges, heaves a sigh, sips his tea. “I was wondering Yu-guniang.” He shakes his head. “No. I was hoping. Am hoping. That you might consider me as a good partner for the future.”
Yu Ziyuan raises her cup to her lips, eyeing him over it. “And what,” she asks, “Of Cangse Sanren?”
“Cangse Sanren?” Jiang Fengmian blinks. “Whatever does she have to do with this?”
“Well, I assumed… she has been staying at Lotus Pier, last I heard, anyway.” She sounds stiff even to her own ears.
Jiang Fengmian lowers his eyes, as if his tea will hold any answers. “I guess you haven’t heard yet. Feels like it’s the only thing the cultivation world has been talking about, but then again, I know Meishan Yu is more solitary.”
“I don’t suppose you’re planning on getting to the point soon,” she says, delicately.
“Of course, of course, my apologies.” He takes a deep breath, face carefully blank. “Cangse Sanren and Wei Cangze eloped nearly three months ago.”
Silence falls over them. Yu Ziyuan places her tea down, unsure what her face must look like. Three months ago.
Oddly, she’s just hurt that she didn’t receive a letter.
Six months ago, she remembers, Cangse Sanren had stared out at the gates like the world awaited for her to do something great. Seven months ago, she thought Cangse Sanren had stared at her like she planned to do something great for Yu Ziyuan, and Yu Ziyuan alone.
What a fool, Yu Ziyuan had been. A passing fancy.
“I see,” she finally says, voice cold. “So I am the second choice.” In every way.
Jiang Fengmian shakes his head. “I would not wish you to think that.” He picks up the box that had been sitting next to him the whole time. “I hoped this might make you consider.”
Gingerly, Yu Ziyuan opens the box, to find a beautiful dagger, encrusted with a jade hilt. She lifts it, surprised to find it light to the touch. As she replaces it gently in the box, she considers him. It’ll be fitting, Yu Ziyuan thinks. Two people cast aside by the same person, bound forever.
Yu Ziyuan always did like irony.
They marry in summer, and the crowd whispers that their new Madame Yu is a beauty sprung deep from the mountains—face carved like stone, and tone cold as the mountain springs. Not a tear falls down her face.
And so the seasons pass, and Lotus Pier becomes her home, and she bears two beautiful children. Cangse Sanren becomes but a memory of her youth, and when she passes, she becomes a name for legends and myths. Stories about her are passed around during festivals and dinners, like folklore. But Yu Ziyuan can say this: in the waning months of fall, in between the days, Cangse Sanren had been hers. And she thinks that might have been enough.