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Returning to Rain Village, they slot back into the slow rhythm of day to day life like broken pieces seamlessly fitting together. They ask no questions, Wu Xie offers no answers about the events in Tamutuo. Zhang Qiling lets everything – countless questions, concerns, thoughts sink into the depth of his consciousness; those he cannot and will not voice.
Wu Xie was at the prime of his health - no more body-racking coughs, no more shaky limbs, no more weakness. He ate more, actually able to keep the food down. Pangzi delirious with joy, created culinary delights for days that Wu Xie consumed and praised. Zhang Qiling found himself following Wu Xie closely, something he had been doing for months now; since Wu Xie told them of his declining health. Lungs breathing in breath, heart pulsing in beat with Wu Xie. It was morbid and unnecessary now, but Zhang Qiling couldn’t stop; had to ensure he always had a line of sight to Wu Xie. The constant uncertainty and the fear of Wu Xie disappearing from his life had him track Wu Xie through the days: sometimes a few steps behind other times a long distance away. Every night, he ended up in Wu Xie's room observing Wu Xie's chest rise and fall, making sure he was breathing. More than once he had walked past Pangzi doing the same as him. The two of them like satellites orbiting their world. Their fragile world that had barely escaped devastation. Zhang Qiling has never understood better Wu Xie’s cautious clinginess when he returned after a decade.
On the fourth night back, Pangzi grabbed onto the front of Wu Xie’s jumper during dinner, pulling him close, shaking the man as if he were a misbehaving kitten. “Tian Zhen, if you ever do something like that again, I will not survive it,” Pangzi said, voice hoarse and full of deep anguish, and under the harsh kitchen lights, the lines of his face were carved in deep with age. It was another reminder for Zhang Qiling that he was the outlier, the unmoving pebble, worn smooth by time. Pangzi’s words were a reflection of the truths the two of them had lived these past months. It had eroded their pain and anger, and by the end the two of them had been worn out shades.
These past few months had nearly taken every bit of his self-control to not commit stupidity. He had started absent-mindedly plotting the fastest route to the Spirit Tree, to make the damning wish and bring back dead. He had thought of running to Banai and ripping through every scrap of information the Zhang Family had acquired through the millennia, convinced he must have missed something. The only thing that stopped him was the thought of Wu Xie fading while he was away. There was no point - he knew what the Spirit Tree was capable of and it wouldn't have brought back Wu Xie, not his Wu Xie, only bringing back a facsimile, wrong in all the ways that mattered. He has read all the secrets the Zhang Family kept in that room, over millennia of secrets enshrining the stark truth; true resurrection is impossible. The dead are gone forever.
And yet. There was Wu Xie, living and breathing, the same laughing voice and fleeting touches. Zhang Qiling couldn't go, couldn't leave what was possibly the last few moments of Wu Xie's life. He held on impossibly tight, white-knuckled; watched Wu Xie's voice fail, his touches loosen.
He watched Wu Xie slowly die.
Not again; not again. He sat there, watching Pangzi cry and Wu Xie patting the man on the back reassuring him. Zhang Qiling took a slow deep breath and let himself have this moment, carving it into memory.
The second week back, Wu Xie renewed his regular walks through the village, greeting the elderly grandparents by name. They flocked around Wu Xie, pressing home pickled vegetables and freshly made chili sauce into his protesting. Gossiping with the nice, ever-smiling young man who would stop to listen to them talk about their children and grandchildren. They asked after Wu Xie’s brother, and he shook his head smiling brightly, saying that his twin had gotten better and returned home to his exciting life in the city. Wu Xie soaked it all in, the laughter, the cadence of the chatter, the warmth of their smiles; as if trying to reacquaint himself with the world, reconnecting to it person by person.
Zhang Qiling watched all of this, face blank. He followed behind Wu Xie: sometimes a few steps behind, other times a long distance away. Storing those moments away, hoarding them close to his chest, repeating to himself that these moments were too important to forget. He knew it was all for naught because one day he will wake up, and forget this man like he had forgotten so many things in the past. The only way to guarantee that he would remember Wu Xie was to leave memories of the man across the tombs and engrave him into his soul.
Zhang Qiling spent his time in the village carefully navigating the space around Wu Xie, not asking, just observing and memorizing. It was Wu Xie as he was; before drained him of color and vibrancy- talking, moving the way he always did. Turning exasperated, fond looks toward Pangzi and deep gazes toward Zhang Qiling. In every single way, he was Wu Xie.
But.
Doubts, like blood corpses born from the darkness of his heart, kept clawing into his consciousness. He knew that he was avoiding what his mind had been whispering to him since before Tamutuo. He feared digging deeper, he feared what he may discover if he kept on asking. He has ignored what he knew to be the truth; he has ignored it since Wu Xie let them know of his and Wu Xie’s plan. Zhang Qiling was one of two people on this earth who had returned from behind the Gate, he was one of two living people who have seen the Ultimate, and he knew with a quiet certainty that there were only two ways they could have saved Wu Xie from death. Both would have left Wu Xie changed, wrong and not the Wu Xie that he would have given up his life for. Except by some miracle Wu Xie had returned whole and healthy with all of his memories intact. It was impossible; nothing he knew could have cured Wu Xie so completely.
Finally, he took several strands of Wu Xie’s hair, making sure the follicles were still attached, and sent it away for testing. Five days later he received the results – both Y-DNA and atDNA came back positive, black ink on white paper informed him that the person whose hair this has belonged to was Wu Xie, same blood type even down to the abnormalities. The only thing that was flagged as different from Wu Xie’s last blood test over three months ago was a high level of copper and several other metals in the body, the same abnormal amount of metals that would be in Zhang Qiling’s body if he was to be tested. Perhaps Qi Yu did find a way to bring Wu Xie back that Zhang Qiling didn’t know of, the man was older than him, older than Xiazi. Except his mind wouldn’t let it go; a dog with a bone.
A month after Wu Xie returned with them from Tamutuo, Zhang Qiling had to leave. The decision didn’t come as a surprise. He wasn’t known for staying in one spot for a long duration, and he already stayed in the village longer than he had ever done, either since he was a child or due to imprisonment. Pangzi gave him a quick half shoulder hug. “Go meditate or whatever the fuck you do up there in that freezing ice mountain. I’ll be here looking after Tian Zhen. Once you reach your inner Zen or whatever shit you do, come back.”
Zhang Qiling returned the hug with a strong one of his own. Pangzi rarest type of man- the type of person you meet once in a lifetime, who would put everything on hold for the people he considered family. And somehow, despite his own efforts, Zhang Qiling had become family.
Wu Xie waited for him at the gate, a resigned slope to his shoulders; the sinking sun changing the faded red paint into burnt orange. His back faced him as he looked out to the village. Zhang Qiling walked up next to him, and waited in silence.
“Thanks for the last few months,” Wu Xie said, voice tight with unnamed emotion. before turning his gaze to Zhang Qiling. “I know you have questions, but I don’t have any answers for you. I was unconscious and when I woke up I was laying on the ground close to the exit of the city, healthy. I don’t know what he did.” Every part of Wu Xie’s body seemed to project he was telling the truth, and Zhang Qiling wanted to believe in it so very much, but his instincts were compelling him to dig, dig, dig. And Zhang Qiling couldn’t, couldn’t allow himself to dig any deeper than he already had.
Wu Xie let out a long sigh at his silence, he turned his head away, breathed in deep and then turned back towards him. “Take care of yourself, Xiaoge. Keep in contact, and come back when you are ready.” Wu Xie put his hand on his shoulder, tightened his fingers as if trying to force him to stay. Wu Xie held on tightly for several seconds as if waiting for an acknowledgement or response, he received neither. Wu Xie finally let his fingers loosen and stepped back. He took one last look at Zhang Qiling, complex emotions flashing behind his eyes. Wu Xie half smiled, nodded and then walked back into the siheyun.
Zhang Qiling doesn’t look back as he leaves the village through the gate, cold ice sinking deep into his stomach.
…
Zhang Qiling had left the village for less than three hours before the messages started coming in. He suspected Pangzi had let their friends know that he was on the move again, that or the many people who had the village under surveillance had reported him leaving the village to those who hired them. He flicked through the messages, mentally sorting the ones he could ignore and the ones he had to respond to or the consequence could be incredibly annoying. Xiazi’s text message was easy to respond to, it was a simple query, [Are all you still alive? You guys have been too quiet, people are starting to worry.]. He had to pause and take a shaky breath as he shook off the sense of crushing defeat he had felt for all these months, those thoughts wouldn't be of help now. He typed back a quick response, [Fine.].
Xiaohua’s message was trickier, the text glared back at him, somehow managing to carry judgment through digital space, [The three of you have been rather quiet these past few months. I heard that there was some major movement around three weeks back in Rain Village and then Tamutuo. Are all of you okay?]. He distantly wondered when he had been assigned as the designated contact point for when the Iron Triangle does things out of their set pattern. Probably due to the fact he doesn’t lie. But that didn’t mean he would provide an essay. He carefully typed his response, [Fine.].
Before he could turn his phone off, a message popped up. A message from Zhang Rishan. [Cousin, I would like to have a proper conversation with you, face to face. Come to Beijing, I have left a message with my assistant to allow you to see me at any time. Within the next week would be greatly appreciated.].
Zhang Qiling turned off his phone.
…
Originally he planned to take a flight and then a train, and making the last part of the journey to Medog by car. It would have taken him less than three days to reach his destination if he pushed it. Instead, he meandered, wasting over a week staying in out-of-the-way and run-down inns, the sort that would never pass a health-and-safety inspection. Here he ate and slept, not for long, always gone in two to three days. He felt the constant tension and anxiety just beneath his skin, his brain screaming at him to keep moving, don't stop or he would disappear into the abyss. So he kept on moving.
And somehow between the shitty inns, the bad food, and the multitudes of transport options, he ended up in Hangzhou two weeks later. He decidedly stayed at a small hotel half a city away from Wu Shanju. He sent status updates to Pangzi and Wu Xie, that he was alive, and tried not to type out half incoherent messages about not knowing where he was going. He couldn’t decide whether he was trying to discover the cracks in the lie about the living breathing Wu Xie in Fujian or whether he was going mad, creating reasons to not believe in this miracle, that perhaps the world could be kind despite its prior experience.
He doesn’t type those messages.
...
On his third day in Hangzhou, sitting at a small café staring out through the window into the busy street, Zhang Rishan pulled out the blue plastic chair opposite him and sat down. “Is the food good here?” He was in a dark gray three piece suit, hands gloved in black leather. He remembered Zhang Rishan as an overly exuberant puppy, round cheeks and loyal yaps, always chasing after Foye. Cute and adorable until his loved ones were threatened, and then he was vicious teeth and claws. He was easy to anger but quick to forgive. This Zhang Rishan had decades to smooth the edges of his personality, to hide behind masks, to wield power because no one else could. Whereas before he was fire and passion, now he was precise and calculated.
Zhang Rishan ignored his scrutiny and instead pulled out his phone from his front pocket and carefully placed it down on the square plastic table. After that he removed his gloves, and then picked up the plastic sheet covered menu goazing over it. Within seconds a waitress magically popped up next to him, asking for his order. “I’ll have the house special tea, and a slice of the honey cake,” Zhang Rishan answered, an easy smile on his face. The waitress stuttered, wrote down his order and made a hasty retreat.
Zhang Rishan sat back, and gave Zhang Qiling a long, considering look, there was a hint of annoyance behind the calm facade. “If you do not visit Buddha, then the Buddha will visit you,” Zhang Rishan said. “Wu Er Bai is getting agitated. He is not stupid, while not as canny as Wu Sansheng and Wu Lao Guo, but smart none-the-less,” Zhang Rishan gently tapped the fingers of his right hand on the table.
“I don’t know what the three of you have been hiding these past months, I don’t really care. I’m not even particularly worried about the copy you and your friends stole from the Warehouse,” amusement colored his voice. “Foye would probably be even happy that someone has shaken that little cult up twice in the period of a year,” the amusement leeched away leaving a cold mask. “However, I expect you to keep me in the loop on matters that will affect the Zhang Family. The three of you and one other made the trip to Tamutuo roughly a month ago. You know what’s down there, the only reason none of you were shot in the head and buried in an unmarked grave was that I stayed their hands,” Zhang Rishan’s fingers stopped its tapping on the table. “Now, I ask you, the current Head of Zhang Family Zhang Qiling, what you did in Tamutuo, will it affect the Zhang Family.”
Zhang Qiling stared off into the distance, and after several minutes, after Zhang Qishan’s tea and cake had been delivered, he answered. “No, what we did in Tamutuo will not endanger the Zhang Family.”
Zhang Rishan nodded, accepting his answer as the truth. The tension disappeared from the air, replaced by a deep curiosity as Zhang Rishan stared at the tea in front of him. He picked it up, carefully sniffed it and took an experimental sip. “I have had worse, very fruity,” and then moved onto the honey cake. Zhang Qiling sat back and waited, Zhang Rishan ate about a third of the cake before he stopped, checked his phone -smiling at whatever he read, and then carefully placed his phone back in this pocket. He refocused back onto Zhang Qiling. "Er Bai and other parties are not aware that you and your friends picked up the copy, I have shifted their focus to other areas. I trust in your ability to keep it out of way," Zhang Rishan said, cocking his head slightly to the right. "And how is Wu Xie in his new retirement?"
Zhang Qiling's gaze sharpened, "Wu Xie is healthy and well," he said. He had nothing else to say, Zhang Rishan like Zhang Qishan, was far too smart for his own good. And like Foye, his tactics tended to fall within the category of discovering an opponent’s weak spots and repeatedly prodding those spots until he got the response he wanted. “Well, this has been extremely helpful, next time try to come and visit me in Beijing instead of making me travel all the way down south,” Zhang Rishan said, as he carefully stood up.
“One last thing, as I said I don’t know the details of exactly what happened these few months, but I do know what a man looks like when it seems like he is questioning the foundation of his world." And Zhang Qiling was reminded that this man in front of him had lost his whole world twice. And despite the soul crushing pain and the quiet despair he was willing to try again, because sometimes there wasn't really a choice, your heart had decided on the course for you before you even realized.
Zhang Rishan stood there and looked down at him. “You might not like me or even trust me, but know your survival is essential to the Zhang Family and the world,” a heavy pause and then a small shrug, “Figure it out.” With that kernel of wisdom, Zhang Rishan walked away, stopping to pay for his order to the still flustered waitress. Five minutes later it was as if he had never been here.
Zhang Qiling stubbornly spent another two days in the small hotel before his feet unwaveringly took him to Wu Shanju, he doesn’t enter the store, staring at it from across the street. There was no point, Wu Xie wasn’t there, safely tucked away in Rain Village in Fujian. He stood there for several moments before letting himself be carried away by the crowd’s movement. That night he received a text from Wu Xie; the first that wasn’t just pictures of the Village or random knicks-knacks that Zhang Qiling brought back from his travels these past few years labeled with question marks. The words were innocent in principle, in practice Zhang Qiling decided it was time to leave Hangzhuo.
[So, a little bird told me that you might have visited Wu Shanju recently?] And another message two minutes later, [Well, more like you stood across from the shop for like half an hour today and gave off some serious stalker vibes, which is pretty normal.] And then another minute later, [Are you okay?]
No questions about why he was in Hangzhuo, Wu Xie was still so careful. He thought about his response carefully and typed back, [I’m fine.]. And after a few minutes of consideration, [Your team has gotten better at spotting security risks.].
It wasn’t till he was at the front counter desk, checking out of the hotel that he got a response back, [AHAHAHA. They have photos of you printed and stuck on the office walls! They are told to let me know asap if they spot you.].
Zhang Qiling doesn’t bother responding.
…
He wandered for the next three months, slowly made his way up north. Still adamant he was heading to Medog, just taking the scenic route. He crossed through Hubei, not bothering with planes and trains. Instead he walked when he could and hitchhiked when he wanted to reach somewhere before dark. Despite the advent and reach of technology, there were still small pockets of this country that didn't feel the touches of modernity, untouched by modernity, entire villages forgotten by the rest of the world. He could get lost here, in the forests and mountains they were often situated on. He would pay to stay in small mud and brick houses, and would wander through forests and mountains that would soon all disappear in the face of human advancement. He didn't think much, he just existed.
He repeated similar steps through Henan, the air becoming colder the farther north he got. Wu Xie and Pangzi continued to message him every few days; nothing of importance, just random observations, photos of food, animals and the plants that Wu Xie still insisted on growing. He saved the pictures, responded with one-word comments, and tried not to think about Wu Xie, waiting for him to make the first move, to reach out.
At the end of the third month of him avoiding civilization in such a heavily populated country, the futility of his endeavor sunk in. Yes, he felt calmer but nothing was solved, and he could only run and hide for so long. He booked himself into a small inn that looked like it was about to collapse on itself, to get access to plumbing and electricity. He showered, shaved, and ate a hot meal that actually tasted semi-decent. The following morning, he set out for Fujian.
…
He doesn't end up in Fujian.
Somehow he found himself booking a train ticket to Changsha. He spent the rest of the night napping on the train. Over eight hours later, he was in Changsha. He checked himself into a mid-tier hotel; there was no mold in the bathroom, and they actually had a cleaning service. Pulling the thick curtains closed, turning the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign up, he went to sleep. Six hours later he got out of bed, and after a shower and a quick check of his sabre and gear, he went out to get some food. He chose a small little hole in the wall place that he distantly remembered served good wonton noodle soup; simple and homemade. Waiting for his order, a bottle of unopened water was dropped in front of him, and a dark blur crashed into the creaky wooden chair opposite of him.
Hei Xiazi stared back at him with a shit eating grin. “Long time no see, old-timer,” Xiazi said, his customary leather jacket was hung over the back of his seat, and as usual, he looked exactly the same as Zhang Qiling last saw him. One of the things they had in common, two old men in young men’s body, untouched by time. “I wasn’t expecting you in Changsha?” For a prompt to expand on what he and the other two had been up to these past few months, this was by far the softest approach Xiazi could have chosen. It almost felt like he was being handled with kid gloves.
“Who spotted me?” Zhang Qiling countered.
Xiazi shouted out an order for fried rice and beer, and looked back at Xiaoge, “Honestly speaking, no one spotted you. I have been here for a month or so, had a quick job for Er Ye to do, wrapped it up about three days back,” Gulping down his beer with a careless shrug. “Didn’t feel like going further north, actually was thinking about visiting you guys down at Rain Village, and who do I see on my way to the train station?” A wide grin and a lazy wave of his hand punctuated his words; as if that encompassed this unlikely chance encounter between two well preserved old fossils.
Zhang Qiling didn’t often feel the urge to roll his eyes, but Xiazi brought his inner child uncomfortably close to the surface.
“So, why are you in Changsha?” Xiazi asked. “It isn’t often you stay around modern civilization on your own. I had expected you to be on top of a snow mountain or crawling in a tomb.”
Zhang Qiling shrugged, “On my way to Medog."
“Oh, that winter hell-scape." Their food arrived, and all conversation was put on hold as they ate their meals in silence.
“Funny, after such a long stretch of short texts, weeks of complete silence from Pangzi and Wu Xie, I now get 24/7 updates on the village, the food Pangzi is cooking and Wu Xie’s new hobby of attempting to grow some sort of plants,” Xiazi spoke casually as he burped and ordered another bottle of beer. “And you,” a wagging finger at Zhang Qiling’s face, “Go from spending more time in one place than I can remember you have ever done, back to wandering; roughly around the time I hear from the grapevine that the Iron Triangle and an unconfirmed fourth had headed into the desert destination unknown and returned sans fourth member, and are now playing house again.”
For better or worse Zhang Qiling’s associates and friends were all too smart for their own good. It doesn’t mean he has to say anything.
“Now, Xiaohua got concerned when Pangzi talked him out of visiting earlier in the year, and he was truly worried when he called me a month back to say that the three of you had gone complete radio silence.” It would have been around the time that they had made their treck to Tamutuo, and neither Pangzi nor he could have handled any other external contact. They had been balancing on a gossamer thin tightrope. “So, friend, are you and the two other idiots okay? Should I be walking into Rain Village with an arsenal or can I wonder in with only my pretty little self?”
Zhang Qiling let out a slow breath, broke the seal on the bottle of water and took a careful sip, “You can visit them at Rain Village. Wu Xie and Pangzi would probably be glad to have visitors.” Xiazi nodded, accepting his answer. With nothing much else to say to one another Xiazi stood up and grabbed his leather jacket from the chair. “It was nice chatting and all, but I think I’ll see if I can catch the train to Fujian, take care of yourself.”
He tipped his head in goodbye, wondering if he was going to get a surprise visit from Xie Chen Yu at his next destination. The thought of Xie Chen Yu visiting him in Medog was laughable. As if reading his mind, Xiazi laughed and patted him on the back. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell Xiao Hua to stop his highly involved rescue plan.” And with that ominous statement, Xiazi sauntered out of the small restaurant.
Of course, the man had left him with the bill.
…
Zhang Qiling didn’t like to delude himself; he had to fill the blanks of his memories often enough in the past that lying to himself was anathema to his being. It didn’t take him long to reason it out; he was going to places he knew Wu Xie had spent time on his own in between the gaps of Zhang Qiling and his life-threatening adventures. It wasn’t the tombs he was interested in. It was the places he knew Wu Xie had visited and stayed at during those ten years when he had been a void in Wu Xie’s life.
A few months after he returned from the Gate, Pangzi had gotten drunk and had told him the things Wu Xie did during those ten years. Not everything – nobody on earth truly knew the extent of the schemes and things Wu Xie did in those ten years. But those that Zhang Qiling learned left him cold with fury and pain, fury at himself and pain for Wu Xie.
Over fifteen years ago he hadn’t realized what he meant to Wu Xie. He couldn’t allow himself to think of it, to name the nascent feelings between the two of them. The time was upon them, someone with the right blood and genetics had to enter the Gate. He couldn’t let Wu Xie enter the Gate; he knew Wu Xie would have done it, walked through the Gate with a smile in order to honour the debt the Nine Gate owed Zhang Qiling without a second thought, because he was that type of person. But Zhang Qiling couldn’t let it happen, three generations of the Old Nine Gate Family, finally a person who would have taken on the responsibility of the Zhang Family and survived, and Zhang Qiling couldn’t do it, couldn’t let what was behind the Gate to colour Wu Xie. He couldn’t let Wu Xie to see the Ultimate, to let it destroy him, to force the burden of several millennia of humanity upon his shoulders. Wu Xie had become too important to him, a single point of humanity that kept him connected to the world.
But of course Wu Xie took the path less travelled, and did the impossible. Wu Xie took on the heavy burden of hundreds generations of people’s wishes and hopes, and broke the Wang Family apart. It was an act that the Zhang Family couldn’t achieve even with all of their knowledge and power. And every time he saw the signs of what achieving the goal did to Wu Xie; the scar on his neck left by a stranger in the night, a wound that was meant to end his life. There were the scars on his forearm, a deep cut for every person he had failed, voids left in his life. The nightmares, the far off looks when Wu Xie didn’t think anyone was paying attention to him. Zhang Qiling saw and knew, and he wanted to break the world apart. To lash out and scream at Wu Xie. Why Wu Xie couldn’t had stayed out of it, lived his life like the carefree young man he had known, who he had lo- it wasn’t important anymore.
Whatever was done was in the past, and after he returned from the Gate he had thought for a brief time that Wu Xie would finally have the life he deserved, that he was recovering, healing so that he was the Tian Zhen Wu Xie of the past. Then his world quietly shattered again, as he heard Wu Xie tell him he was dying over the phone’s tinny speaker. It was a lethargic devastation, eradicating all thoughts and feelings; it had left him a cold numbness. Nothing had mattered except to get to Wu Xie as fast as possible, to see the man for himself, to make sure that he hadn't disappeared during the time he was away. Everything they did after was worth it, they had saved Wu Xie.
But life was never kind or fair, when he found out that Wu Xie was still dying, that what they did in the City of Thunder wasn't enough, he didn’t have anything left to feel. Just the ceaseless need to stay with Wu Xie, to remember every little thing of this man, Wu Xie had been the only person in all his years to have cared if he was to disappear from the world, which had saved him from more than he would ever know.
And now, now that Wu Xie was alive, well and happy, and Zhang Qiling couldn’t stay, because if he had stayed, if he had kept looking he knew with certainty that he couldn’t lie to himself anymore. Whatever was living in Rain Village now couldn’t be Wu Xie, not his Wu Xie. It was an impossibility, a facsimile of the man he knew. It could be another copy, a left over from Wu Sansheng and Wu Lao Guo’s plans, or it could be Qi Yu.
But it wasn't a complete lie or he wouldn’t have escaped, ran, as his mind and heart clashed. The man in Rain Village was so similar, too similar. Zhang Qiling had always been able to tell the difference between Qi Yu and Wu Xie apart, no matter how much the former had tried to imitate Wu Xie. But after Tamutuo, after he had put his head on the man’s shoulder and his hand on the nape of his neck, he had breathed and had lost his true north. For the first time since he had met Wu Xie he couldn’t tell who was leaning against him, he couldn’t tell if it was truly Wu Xie. And now, even now he wasn’t a hundred percent certain, his logic informed him that there was no way Wu Xie could have survived, but every other sense he had howled at him to run back to Rain Village, because Wu Xie was there, waiting for him.
It took a very long time to fall asleep.
…
He was woken up in the morning by a series of knocks at the door, and for a split second Zhang Qiling wondered if Hei Xiazi had followed him, had waited till morning to wake him up to set the mood for his day. He scoffed softly at his own thoughts and climbed out of the bed. Picking up the black sword on his way toward the door, holding it behind his back, he opened the door.
Standing there, alive and smiling at him was Wu Xie.
"Hi!" Wu Xie said, and then his eyes glanced up and down and a flush overtook his cheeks.
Belatedly, Zhang Qiling realized he was shirtless.
…
"I was in the area, and I thought why not come and see how you are!" Wu Xie said, gaze wandered around the room, hands waved around, obviously nervous.
Zhang Qiling couldn't stop staring; it has been months since he had last seen Wu Xie in person. The random corners of the man captured in photos sent by Pangzi didn’t count; it couldn’t fully realize the reality that was Wu Xie who was in movement. Wu Xie had walked past him to enter the room, dumped his backpack on the bed and hadn’t stopped moving since. There really wasn’t much to see in the room. It had a queen-sized bed, a desk and chair against the wall, and a small bathroom to the right. Wu Xie eventually stilled and dropped onto the bed. He looked down at his hands resting on his lap for several seconds until he seemed to have reached a decision. Wu Xie looked up to where a now dressed Zhang Qiling had leaned against the wall.
“Hei Xiazi dropped by and told us you were in Changsha, and I thought why not come and visit,” Wu Xie said, a nervous smile on his face, uncertain but hopeful. “Pangzi decided to stay back with Xiazi, I think they are planning to clean out the cellar of the homemade wine. But also, he told me to clean up the fucking air between the two us before I head back to Fujian,” Wu Xie stared at him expectantly.
He stared back. After several seconds of silence he shrugged, “There really isn’t anything to clear up.”
Wu Xie looked at him in disbelief and a hint of anger. “Right. You just decided to abandon ship as soon as it seemed I wasn’t going to have a relapse. And instead of going to Medog and live like a lama like you normally do, you disappeared off the face of the fucking earth for four months. What? You decided that you needed a midlife crisis? Get in touch with your inner self?” Wu Xie was at his most exasperated, voice sharp and sneering. “I know there’s shit we don’t talk about,” Wu Xie pushed his raised palm out in the direction of him to stall any comments. “We can continue to not talk about them, it isn’t important here. But for fucks sake, Xiaoge, Pangzi and I aren’t idiots. You have been off since we returned from Tamutuo. What’s wrong?”
What’s wrong, such a simple question that was an armed bomb ready to explode in their faces at any second. He recognized the look on Wu Xie’s face now; it was the look he had seen Wu Xie wear since his return from the Gate. A look of fear interlaced with hunger, the look that appeared when Wu Xie looked at him in between the moments of normalcy. It was fear that Wu Xie had done something so irreversible that Zhang Qiling would never forgive him for, that he would leave and never return. He despised that look, hated the fact he was the only one who could put it on Wu Xie’s face, the cause of so much of Wu Xie’s pain.
He slowly let his body relax, muscle by muscle letting out a quiet breath. “There is nothing wrong - I’m just trying to sort through some things. Your illness -” he had to stop for a brief second and let that deep well of darkness sink back into the pit where he buried all his grief, “Your death was difficult. I – we mourned you, and I needed to process. It isn’t your fault. I was returning to Fujian.”
“And have you processed everything?” Wu Xie asked, voice gentle and containing a million unsaid words.
“No. But staying away wasn’t helping.”
Wu Xie considered the statement carefully; he could see the way Wu Xie’s mind was examining what he said from all different directions, trying to find a solution. The gears turning behind those deep eyes. After several moments of silence, Wu Xie seemed to have come back to himself, body engaging with his mind, a decision has been reached.
“That’s fine. I will help,” Wu Xie smiled with determination. “There is no need to return to Fujian. I’ll come with you; we can figure this out. Together.”
And Zhang Qiling could do nothing but agree in the face of a Wu Xie who looked at him with determination and trust, and a depth of love he couldn’t quantify.
…
They stayed in Changsha for another week. The two of them walked the city; visiting all the places Wu Xie's grandfather had written about in his journals, where the members of the Old Nine Gate Family used to live. And Zhang Qiling listened, tried to slot the people and places mentioned in Wu Lao Guo's journals into that of his own memories of them.
They walked the city as it was then, not what it was now.
Wu Xie was healthy; he walked with strength and purpose. Taking in the people and places with open curiosity. And Zhang Qiling followed, always aware of Wu Xie's presence, able to predict Wu Xie's movement and the outline of his thoughts. There was a connection between the two of them; always had been there even when Wu Xie didn't trust him. The feeling of rightness he always felt at being by Wu Xie's side.
They visited the night market, ate the local cuisine, and Wu Xie got stupidly excited about some knock off jade charms. An old man with two missing front teeth tried to offload them as real ninth century jade antique charms. Wu Xie grinned as he picked up one of them; the charm was about a centimeter wide and looked like a demented cat face hanging from a red cord.
"It is the head of a great lion!" The old man argued.
"Oh, come on, old man. Do you think I was born yesterday?" Wu Xie swung the charm back and forth in front of the seller. "This is no way in hell real? And I'm for sure not paying 500 Yuan for a fugly cat head." Wu Xie and the old man argued back and forth for a few minutes till Wu Xie picked up two more charms from the table, "I'll buy all three for 50 Yuan!" The old man looked offended but then looked at the time on his blindingly shiny fake gold watch. "Fine. 50 Yuan. Now fuck off."
Wu Xie laughed, handed over the money and took the three charms in hand. He walked towards Zhang Qiling waving a charm at him, "This is for you, it is a qilin!"
Zhang Qiling inspected the charm and realized that it did look like a qilin's head if you were being kind and half-blind. Wu Xie had hurriedly tied the fugly cat charm around his own left wrist before he grabbed onto Zhang Qiling's right hand. With intense focus Wu Xie carefully tied the twisted red cord around his wrist. He looked up at him with a large grin, "Now we match!"
The charm around his right wrist was a qilin missing whiskers from one side of its face. "And the last one is for Pangzi!" Wu Xie said excitedly, waving the last charm - what could be said as a busted lion's head swinging back and forth, "It will fit his sense of fashion perfectly." Zhang Qiling looked at the ugly charms hanging off red cords from their wrists and smiled.
They spent a lot of time visiting small shops and eating local treats. Everything was so easy; like how it has always been between the two of them. He could let himself sink into this life. He could be happy in this. But, there would be moments when he looked at Wu Xie, and he would see a cold distance that crept into Wu Xie's gaze. And Zhang Qiling felt chilled to his bones, because before-before Wu Xie's gaze was never so remote and alien. It was as if this world they inhabited was a dream, an experiment that Wu Xie at times wanted to dissect to see how it worked.
"What are you thinking about?" Wu Xie asked. "You looked very worried there."
"Nothing," Zhang Qiling answered, and tried to ignore what he saw in Wu Xie's eyes not a moment ago.
Wu Xie shrugged his shoulders. "If you say so," His voice coldly disinterested.
…
They started to make their way west. They didn't talk about it, but it was obvious that they were headed to Medog. Somewhere in Zhang Qiling's mind, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Pangzi shouted finally. Medog was where he went to think, to achieve a sense of peace and balance, to feel closer to his mother. It didn't escape him that he hadn't been able to get there these past four months, but a week with Wu Xie beside him and he suddenly felt clear-headed enough, ready enough to head to Medog. Even when doubts about Wu Xie clung to his mind, he still felt more centered and content with Wu Xie by his side. Every part of him calmed in Wu Xie's presence.
Before he meandered and stayed in hotels; now he was focused, an itch building beneath his skin, his consciousness wailing at him with thoughts that he doesn’t want to listen. Zhang Qiling contacted a Zhang affiliated business with a list of items that they needed for the trip to Medog. The next day they got a four-wheel drive, food, and more gear suited for the weather and terrain of Medog.
The drive to Medog was long but picturesque; forests that morphed into snow-covered plains merging into mountains only to change back. Before he entered the Gate, the way to Medog was dangerous and the journey to the temple would have taken weeks. Now they could head to Bomi then onto the highway and just drive. The highway was long and seemed unending; they could go for hours without spotting another car. Providing an illusion that it was just the two of them in the world cocooned away in the car – a world of two. The completed construction of the highway several years ago meant that they could reach their destination in three days.
Nearing the evening of the first day, Wu Xie started to actively campaign for a rest. “I don’t want to drive through the night, and we are both tired. We have got the camping gear in the back so I’m voting to camp for the night, and we can start again tomorrow morning.”
They camp. Clearing out the snow around their campsite, he set about setting the tent and securing the perimeter while Wu Xie set up the fire and started boiling some water. “Mala or seafood?” Wu Xie asked, waving the two brightly colored instant noodles packet in front of him. Wu Xie somehow interpreted the look on his face and threw the seafood flavored noodles back in the bag and grabbed three more bags of mala flavor.
They don’t talk as they eat. Afterwards, Wu Xie cleaned out the pot with some melted snow, packed everything away and crashed down next to him, close to the fire. He passed Wu Xie a mug of hot tea. The two of them sipped their tea in silence. It felt as if they were the only two people left in the world, and a part of Zhang Qiling was at peace with that thought if it became reality.
“I traveled this exact road about five years ago,” Wu Xie sipped his tea and looked into the clear sky, a galaxy of stars above their heads. “This would be the third time I have traveled to Medog.”
He tightened his hand around his steel mug and waited, sometimes the only thing to do was wait, and it felt like he had waited for Wu Xie his entire life. Wu Xie turned to look at him with calm and contentment, and after a few seconds he smiled, warmth and a deep ocean of love constrained within one single smile, “I finally get to make this journey with you.”
His world quivered, a seismic shift in the foundation of his being. He gazed at Wu Xie, trying to convey all his feelings, the unspoken words between them over fifteen years of space. Time has etched fine lines at the corners of Wu Xie’s eyes and around his mouth. Wu Xie doesn’t look anywhere near his real age, but he has aged, time having left its imprints on him, “I’m glad to be here.”
Wu Xie laughed softly and shifted his weight against him, their sides touching. The two of them sat in silence, a sea of stars their lights, and Zhang Qiling at this moment was willing to let go of all of his doubts.
…
It felt as something was finally knocked lose in his chest, and the two of them moved around each other with ease, familiarity, and no hidden mines ready to explode. They reached Medog in the early afternoon two days later, driving through the Galung Pass tunnel. They drove through Medog itself, and he was glad that they had arrived near the end of tourist season. After the crowd dissipated and before the road became too dangerous to drive. They parked and left their car with a small family that had worked with the Zhang for generations.
The way to the temple could only be made by foot, being situated on the rocky and grassy outcrop of the mountain. They made it to the temple by evening, the lamas greeting them as if the temple was their home. They didn’t talk about it but stayed in the same room, the one that both he and Wu Xie had separately stayed in through the years. They unpacked and changed into the orange jiasha robes provided by the lama.
Zhang Qiling used to imagine what Wu Xie would have been like at Medog. He had heard the stories about Wu Xie living in the temple, walking the paths he had, praying, and meditating. Searching for whispers of person who passed by a long time ago. But those thoughts never solidified into images that he could capture. However, at this very moment, as he saw Wu Xie draped in the jiasha robes, he could suddenly see the images that his friends had muttered to him. Wu Xie alone, in the orange robes, silent and remote, like a mortal whose failings had been removed, his attachments detached, leaving behind an empty vessel ready to receive divinity.
Then the image shifted, Wu Xie turned and grinned at him, waving his arms around exuberantly, “I don’t look half bad in this!”
And here was Wu Xie, wholly mortal, and so very proud of himself.
…
The lamas knew Zhang Qiling’s habits already, and it seemed they knew of Wu Xie’s preferences as well. The two are left alone to their own devices. Zhang Qiling had expected that he and Wu Xie would spend their time here, together. Instead, Wu Xie seemed to have his own reasons to have come here; beyond just keeping him company, accompanying him in mediation. He had a set regime that seemed to have developed during his last stay. Wu Xie woke early, had a quick meal and would then wander the temple and its surroundings. Always returning to the temple before Zhang Qiling got worried.
While Wu Xie wandered the grounds and re-familiarized himself with the temple, he meditated. He took walks along the mountain paths, helped where he could - cleaning the paths and mending what was needed to be fixed in the temple. He flourished in the simple tasks and the structure of daily life, enjoyed the moments with Wu Xie, ignoring the small discrepancies.
They spent two weeks in this fragile calm, before the small differences itched at him again. Wu Xie didn’t feel the cold as much as he used to, coming in from the cold without additional layers beneath the thin layers of the jiasha. He only slept for about four hours a night, leaving the warmth of his bed to take walks in the early morning when the sky was still dark. He felt the calm he achieved being slowly, inevitably eroded. It wasn’t just these minor changes and the things behind Wu Xie's eyes that made his heart race in fear. Wu Xie was stronger and faster than he was before; it wasn’t obvious but it was there. Wu Xie had snatched a fallen cup before it smashed onto the stone floor at dinner. Before, Wu Xie would have never been able to catch the cup, he was not fast enough.
That night he couldn’t sleep, couldn't stay anymore, couldn’t ignore the signs. He couldn’t be in the same room as this Wu Xie shaped person anymore. No more.
He escaped, left the temple, ran, stumbling into the cold. Following his instincts, he trusted them to guide him to a place where he could curl around himself, hide until his world stopped ending. He ran until his lungs burnt, legs screaming in agony. He was up high, the air thin, snow crunching beneath his feet, the edge of a cliff a few meters away. He breathed in cold air, trying to calm down, trying to stop the downward spiral of thoughts.
There was a Wu Xie who talked, moved and remembered everything Wu Xie would have, who now lived in the temple. But he couldn’t be Wu Xie, there was no way Wu Xie could have walked out of Tamutuo alive. He couldn’t face the void of Wu Xie’s absence.
Except it wasn’t all true was it? There was a Wu Xie here in the temple, almost exactly like the Wu Xie he knew. A person that Zhang Qiling liked, cared for, even if he wasn’t Wu Xie.
And that was unforgivable.
Wu Xie; he was the only connection to him to this world, who created a family and pulled him in, forced him to be part of the world. Who gave him a home. Wu Xie was the person who changed the world for Zhang Qiling, Wu Xie was an irreplaceable person. Yet, he couldn’t say with certainty that the Wu Xie who shared his room was the Wu Xie who he walked into the Bronze Door for.
“I was wondering when you would snap,” Wu Xie's voice cracked like a whip in the silence of the night. Too close. He hadn’t heard the man come so close to him. No matter how distracted he was, Wu Xie shouldn't have been able to walk up behind him without detection. Before, Wu Xie couldn't have achieved it. This person, who couldn't have possibly been Wu Xie, stood in his place with his face under the cold moonlight, a statue void of any emotions.
The person who looked and acted like Wu Xie walked up to him, his shoulder a breadth away from brushing against him, “We had hoped that you would let this go, but honestly speaking we knew you couldn’t have accepted this.”
He stumbled backward, away from this person who was Wu Xie but not. "Qi Yu," His voice didn't sound like his own, soft and broken, and so quiet that it could have been swallowed up by the void of where Wu Xie should have been.
The man cocked his head slightly to the right and gave him a long considered look. "Xiaoge," a pause, and the man’s face softened like the way Wu Xie’s always had, “I'm Wu Xie in all the ways that matter.” And Zhang Qiling was paralyzed, he couldn’t think, couldn’t verbalize the jagged outline of his emotions and his shattered thoughts.
The man looked hurt, disappointed by his silence, turned his eyes, gazing upon the snow-covered landscape, as if he couldn’t bear to look at Zhang Qiling’s rejection. “I climbed up here once with someone, years and years ago. So long ago that I had almost forgotten, I climbed up here, and I thought that this would be a place that I wouldn’t mind dying at.” He turned to Zhang Qiling. “That it would be nice to die with the person I loved.” He slowly reached his hands out, as if placating an animal in fear, and Zhang Qiling distantly thought that perhaps it was the most appropriate behavior to enact, perhaps he was a terrified animal in its final death throes waiting for someone’s mercy to take him out of his misery. His warm hands slowly and carefully folded around Zhang Qiling’s frozen digits, and he realized they were shaking, he didn’t know how long they had been shaking, he couldn't feel them.
“Xiaoge, I am here,” the man carefully placed Zhang Qiling’s hands against his chest, and he felt the steady heartbeat beneath his shaking hands. His focus shrunk, away from the doubts and the screaming void in his head, focusing all of his attention on the heat coming from this man's body and the stable pulse beneath his hand.
“You said to me years ago that you would give up your life for me. To give me a life free of grief and pain,” the man's voice was soft and gentle but there was a hint of deep buried anger, the man's hands became tighter around his, as if afraid he would disappear like dust into the wind. Leaning forward until their heads touched, “I now ask you to let me give you a life free from grief and pain.”
And he was suddenly so very tired, tired of second guessing, tired of the doubts, tired of the constant fight. In front of him, with love and care shining from behind his eyes was Wu Xie. A Wu Xie who was slightly different, but a Wu Xie who was warm and alive, a Wu Xie who remembered everything they shared, who loved him with gentle care.
Zhang Qiling closed his eyes, slumping into a warm and breathing Wu Xie.
.
.
.
.
...End of Part 2...