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At first, Song Lan thinks it’s another cultivator. The water here is dark and murky and it stings his eyes. It’s the middle of the night, and although he’s close – so close – to the river’s surface, the moonlight doesn’t penetrate the water very well. All he sees is the rough outline of another body behind the creature that’s dragging him down, a streak of dark hair, then the flash of a sword.
The water feels cold, suddenly, and if Song Lan had air to spare in his lungs he might gasp. The blade must make contact with the creature trying to drown him; its claws in his shoulders tighten and then loosen, there’s a squeal that sends bubbles spilling from its aching maw, and then it lets go of him to fight the newcomer.
Strange, Song Lan thinks. He tries to find the strength to swim upwards, but he barely knows which way is up anymore, and his lungs are burning and his limbs are so heavy. The villagers had said that no cultivators – rogue or otherwise – had passed through in many moons. Perhaps fortune has smiled upon Song Lan today and led a second to this isolated spot to rescue him. He struggles but his robes feel so heavy now, he can barely move Fuxue, it’s as if the very water around him is solidifying and turning sticky. There is water in his lungs. He feels like a fly caught in a spider’s web. Distantly, he realises that he is losing consciousness. If he loses consciousness in the water, he shall die.
Strong arms wrap around his shoulders. Song Lan has barely registered them before they’re moving up towards the surface. The other cultivator must be a strong swimmer. Song Lan is coughing even as his head breaks the surface, spitting resentment-polluted river water out of his mouth and gulping in mouthfuls of the sweet night air. He flails a bit, graceless in his relief to be alive, and registers, for a moment, nothing but the roaring of blood in his ears and the ability to finally, finally breathe.
He treads water, his companion finally letting him go now that he’s capable of not drowning himself. “Is it dead?” Song Lan asks, voice raspy.
It must be. They wouldn’t be here otherwise. The cultivator says something, but the words don’t sound like any language Song Lan has ever heard. The cultivator must realise so, because he bites the tip of a finger in order to draw a talisman – one unlike any Song Lan has ever seen. It’s this action that prompts him to notice that this cultivator’s fingers are webbed, and his nails are long and sharp. There’s a flutter of movement when he breathes deeply, and Song Lan sees a flash of red across the sides of his neck, like a terrible wound. Did the creature injure him too? But the cultivator breathes again, and there’s that flicker of movement, and Song Lan realises that they’re gills.
It must be a translation talisman, because the cultivator – no, this isn’t a cultivator – speaks again.
“Hello,” he says, and at the same time the moon peaks out from behind a cloud, and in the light Song Lan can see that the cultivator has a tail. This time, he does lose consciousness.
He wakes up on solid ground. Song Lan is very thankful for this and doesn’t particularly want to move, but he’s still cold and damp. He opens his eyes. He’s on a rocky outcropping on the riverbank. There’s something – moss? – on the claw punctures in his shoulders.
The cultivator is there. He sits, bathed in moonlight, looking out to the river. Is Song Lan still dreaming?
No.
The cultivator – he’s not a cultivator, but Song Lan doesn’t know what to call him other than that – has long dark hair – it’s wet, and clings to his skin – and his back and shoulders look like any other man Song Lan has seen. From the waist up, he could almost be human – except for the gills, and the fins protruding from his elbow. Even his face looks remarkably human from what Song Lan can see; eyes, nose, lips, he has all the usual characteristics.
There is a smattering of scales across the skin of his lower back, silver fish scales that shine in the light, before the skin merges completely into the scales, his hips sloping down into a long, powerful tail. It’s beautiful, in a surreal sort of way. No wonder he was able to navigate through the water so easily, even while tugging Song Lan alongside him. The – person, Song Lan decides – sits with his tail curled up before the bottom fins dip into the shallows of the water.
Decidedly unhuman.
There is a sword by the rocks. About as long as Fuxue, but its hilt is snow white.
“You’re awake.” Song Lan snaps his eyes towards the person. His fingers flex for Fuxue. “I’m sorry if I scared you earlier. You have no reason to be afraid. I mean no harm.”
The person smiles at him. It’s disarming.
“You…” Song Lan doesn’t know what to say. He prefers to choose silence when he can. He completely lacks the vocabulary for this.
“My name is Xiao Xingchen.” Xiao Xingchen picks up his sword, and before Song Lan can reach for his own, he folds in a half bow. “I understand this is the greeting between your people,” he says. “I apologise for not being able to complete it properly right now.”
The instinct to be mannerly and polite overrides Song Lan’s general confusion. He pulls himself to his feet, bows to Xiao Xingchen. He isn’t sure what he is, but – but it doesn’t seem to matter. He owes him his life. “I am Song Lan,” he says, throat still sore, “courtesy name Song Zichen. I apologise for my earlier rudeness. I have never…” bizarrely, he feels a rush of heat jump across his cheeks, “I have never encountered…someone like you before.”
Xiao Xingchen doesn’t notice his flush. “A courtesy name?”
Song Lan swallows. “A name given to us when we reach adulthood.“
Xingchen nods slowly, as if digesting this information. “I only have one name. What should I call you?”
The entire scenario is so bizarre and Song Lan is caught off guard. “You can call me whichever you like.”
“Well, Song Zichen. It’s not unusual that you’ve never seen…someone like me before. Our kind, we keep our distance from humans, especially cultivators,” he says. He looks almost sheepish. “They don’t always take kindly to us.”
Us? Our kind? “There are more of you?”
“There is a whole society of us,” Xingchen says, with a laugh. “There is much more to the world than you humans know. My people are a part of it. But…our societies are not dissimilar. You’re a cultivator, right?”
Song Lan nods numbly.
“We know much more of your kind than you do ours,” Xiao Xingchen says, “but we share certain qualities in common.” His eyes are bright. “My family…I believe they would be similar to what you call a cultivator.”
Song Lan swallows, curiosity winning out over the headache forming at his temples. “So…so you were chasing that…that thing? To stop it? If you are cultivators, why don’t we know of you?”
Xiao Xingchen’s smile is slightly awkward. “Ah…usually we keep to the waters. We can move elsewhere, but often…often humans mistake us for demons or monsters or…something of the sort. We dare not break the surface. Usually.”
“Yet here you are,” Song Lan says, mind reeling from this onslaught of new information. “Why?”
"There is evil on the land," Xiao Xingchen says, simply. “There is evil in the waters. There is evil in the skies. There is evil everywhere. I may be just a drop in an ocean against it, but I will pursue it wherever it takes me."
Song Lan finds himself nodding. "I understand. Some things are worth leaving for."
Xiao Xingchen raises one eyebrow, and Song Lan finds himself stumbling to explain. "I left my own home too," he says. "I still return regularly, but I don't practice in Baixue Temple anymore. My grandmaster was saddened by my choice to leave, but he couldn't fault my reasoning." He doesn't usually feel the need to explain this, but somehow he knows Xiao Xingchen will understand.
Xiao Xingchen tilts his head, damp hair falling over his shoulder. "I thought you humans had great cultivation sects to pursue evil," he says. "But you travel alone?"
"Most of the great sects are more preoccupied with politics and bloodlines than the plight of normal people," Song Lan says, unable to keep bitterness from bleeding into his words. "In places like this, far away from any great town or roads, many villagers depend on wandering cultivators like me."
"It's a good thing you were the one who passed this way, then," Xiao Xingchen says. "It seems like you carry remarkable integrity, Song Zichen. I would rather enlist no other cultivator's help."
"Help?" Song Lan's brow furrows. "What could I help you with?"
"The creature that you fought today is a creature of the deep," Xiao Xingchen explains, splashing a little water up with his tail. He's looking tired. Song Lan wonders if being out of water exhausts him. "Its usual victims are my own people, or other creatures out in the oceans of the world. This one must have come too close to shore, then swam upriver."
"Why?"
"It feeds off resentful energy."
Song Lan nods. Even now, he can feel it, the presence of something sinister, pulsing alongside the current. "Something is polluting the water."
Xiao Xingchen nods. "There must be a large source, if it's enticing these creatures."
"I heard there was an incident with an aqua demon further downriver," Song Lan says thoughtfully. "From what I understand, cultivators from Yunmeng dealt with the demon, but they don't seem to have tackled the underlying source."
"The water is rife with it," Xiao Xingchen says. "I intend to purify it. To do that, I will have to find the source. I am not sure I can do that alone."
Song Lan feels both a grim determination and an unusual swirl of relief. He doesn't want to part from Xiao Xingchen yet. If he slips underneath the river, Song Lan will have no proof he ever existed. "It must be hard to engage with humans while confined to the water."
Xiao Xingchen's smile is sheepish. "Well, that's just it. I'm not...completely confined to the water. The ancestors of my people were once humans. It's possible for us to regain our human characteristics for short periods of time -- it takes a great deal of spiritual energy, and focus, but I know the correct talismans. I can produce a pair of legs, if needs be, but I have never navigated through land, or through human social interactions, or fought on two legs...having a companion who can guide me through such things while also being adept in battle and investigation would be quite an advantage."
It takes a moment for Song Lan to realise Xiao Xingchen is talking about him. "I'm not sure how good of a guide I am," he admits. "I usually prefer travelling alone, and people often think me distant because of this. If you're looking for help navigating social interactions, I'm not..."
"You are just perfect, Song Zichen," Xiao Xingchen says, perfectly unaffected and earnest. "If you are willing to take this task on, of course. I have no wish to burden you—”
"It is no burden," Song Lan says. "I should like to journey with you." The words fly off his tongue before he can reconsider them, but Xiao Xingchen smiles brightly.
"Then it is settled," he says. "It is late - you need rest. I certainly do. I will need time to prepare my talismans - can you meet me here tomorrow, when the sun is at its highest point?"
Song Lan nods. "I will return to the village and write a report. I'll leave no mention of you. In the morning, I'll ask around the marketplace, to see if any know of anything strange that happened along the water."
Xiao Xingchen nods. "Until tomorrow, then. Thank you, Song Daozhang." He grins. His teeth are sharper than a human's. "That is the correct title?"
"You have already saved my life, and we will be travelling in close quarters for the foreseeable future," Song Lan says, because everything that has happened tonight transcends normal conventions. "There is no need for you to address me with a title."
Another sharp toothed smile. "Then you must simply call me Xingchen.”
“Alright.”
“Goodnight, Zichen."
"Goodnight."
There's a sudden movement of that strong tail, and Xiao Xingchen dives gracefully into the smooth surface of the river. The ripples fade, and it is like he was never there. Song Lan watches the space where he disappeared for several moments, before beginning his journey back to the inn.
It's not every day that someone makes the acquaintance of a species they never knew existed. It's understandable, then, to feel excited to see that acquaintance again, to learn more about them and their life, to enjoy that personal awe and wonder. Song Lan doesn't think that's the sole reason for his eagerness to see Xiao Xingchen again.
He feels a little lost and utterly disarmed, but not in a bad way. Quite the opposite - Song Lan travels a lonely road, and he prefers it that way. But when he wakes up the next morning, he finds himself heartened at the thought of a companion. He isn't sure why he's so attached to Xiao Xingchen after a single conversation - besides the obvious reasons, of course.
He represents a whole existence that was previously unknown to Song Lan - unknown to most humans, probably. He wonders if even the great libraries of the Cloud Recesses or Nightless City record the existence of Xiao Xingchen's people. And yet despite this huge gulf, he can recognise a kindred spirit when he sees one. It doesn't matter their origin, he and Xiao Xingchen have the same goals. He's not just talking about destroying the source of resentment polluting the river.
Xiao Xingchen is also...a lot. Song Lan remembers how he moved in the water; strength equalled only by his grace. If he wants to take a look at him in the clear light of day, that's nobody's business but his own.
When he finds the alcove he left him in last night, Xiao Xingchen is already there, flailing on the ground like a fish out of water.
"Oh," Song Lan says, blinking.
Xiao Xingchen gives him a sheepish smile. "Hello, Zichen." He kicks a leg - a leg - in the same way an animal might flick its tail to ward off flies. Both legs seem to be somewhat connected still. Xiao Xingchen kicks them free of each other, disrupting a few remaining scales off of his skin. "Damn it," he grumbles. "I'm not quite used to this."
In the same place where his tail had once been, Xiao Xingchen has somehow summoned himself human anatomy. His toes are still webbed. Two legs, not lacking for strength, but clearly never having been used before - he almost makes it to his feet before stumbling.
Song Lan catches his arm. He dislikes touch, usually, but he doesn't hesitate to catch him.
"Humans," he says, tongue thick, "humans wear clothing when out in public."
"Oh! Of course. How do I get them? Will I have to go to a marketplace?" Even trembling on his legs, weight on Song Lan's arm, Xiao Xingchen's eyes are bright with curiosity.
Song Lan helps him back safely to the ground. "You - you can't walk into a marketplace unclothed. Even if it is to buy clothes," he says, and he can see no other way around this, so he begins to peel off his outer robe. "This will have to do for now." He wraps it around Xiao Xingchen, guiding one arm through the sleeve, then the other. His skin has the pallor of one who has not spent much time in the sun, and the dark of Song Lan's black robes only accentuate this. Perhaps Xiao Xingchen would look good in white. "We'll buy you some of your own, soon."
"I am already in your debt," Xiao Xingchen says, with a bow of his head, as if an outer robe is the same price of a life.
Once, after a night-hunt, Song Lan had spent the night in the farmhouse of a young family that had been troubled by spirits. During the early hours of the morning their sole mare went into a rough labour, and Song Lan toiled along with husband, wife, and son to bring the animal through. Song Lan remembers watching with a dull awe how the new-born foal had wobbled around on knobbly joints, taking its first steps.
That's what he thinks of as he watches Xiao Xingchen learn - or relearn - how to walk, making laps up and down the riverbank. He is strong, but his balance is off. He's not used to being so high off the ground, his centre of balance has transformed, and he has two limbs to worry about now, instead of one fluid tail.
Song Lan is patient. "One leg at a time," he says gently, catching his elbow when he stumbles again.
"I'm used to only having a tail," Xiao Xingchen says, sounding slightly put-out, slightly embarrassed. "Everything works in one smooth motion. How do you humans stand it?" He puts his right foot forward in a jerky movement, followed by his left.
Song Lan finds himself filling the silence. "You saw my flailing in the water," he says. "You're managing this with much more grace than I would."
"You're too modest, Song Daozhang."
"You've nearly gotten it. Soon we can begin our journey - it's rather isolated until the next town. If you need help balancing, you can take my arm; by the time we meet other travellers it will be natural."
Xiao Xingchen looks almost bashful for a moment, but it must be a trick of the light. "How far until the next village?"
If Song Lan was travelling alone, he'd be there by nightfall. "It depends," he says. "I am used to the roads. Usually I travel through much of the night."
"Don't worry. I have good stamina."
"We should arrive before daybreak, then."
"A human village," Xingchen says, eyes once again filling with wonder. "Will we stay in - oh, what do you call them - an inn?"
Song Lan feels himself smiling. "If you would like to."
"And will they have a market?"
"Most likely."
"Then let's not waste a moment," Xiao Xingchen says, straightening up in his excitement. He wobbles, just slightly, but steadies himself before Song Lan can reach out.
"How long can you keep this form?"
"I'm not sure yet," Xiao Xingchen says. He bends down in a precarious moment to pick up his sword and fasten its strap across his chest. Song Lan hovers, but is unneeded. "At least a day. I might have to return to the water the following morning, however."
"I can take a boat," Song Lan says. He is terrible at rowing. "We can travel by river, if you need a break."
Something moves quickly across Xiao Xingchen's face, too fast for Song Lan to catch it, or interpret it. Xingchen smiles. "Shall we begin?"
Song Lan offers his arm. Xiao Xingchen takes it.
Aside from several attacks from the creature yesterday, the villagers Song Lan spoke to have reported little else unusual. The fishing has been less plentiful, but both fishermen and fish were scared off by the presence of the creature. Nothing else has been reported, but the woman from whom Song Lan bought his breakfast told him that in the next village upriver, where her niece lives, several people have gone missing. Apparently, cultivators had to get involved in something even further beyond the next village, but the woman didn’t know anything more than that.
Song Lan tells all of this to Xiao Xingchen as they walk.
The terrain is rough for Xingchen - who insists on walking barefoot - but the further they go, the more progress they make. It's easier once they come off the bank and onto the wagon-flattened road.
"Word would have travelled if there was a battle," Xiao Xingchen says, thoughtful. "Maybe there was a sickness and some of the bodies ended up in the river. I've seen that happen before."
"Oh?"
"At sea, many are buried by being thrown overboard. If there are many corpses thrown at once, it can cause a current of resentful energy. It's possible something like this could have struck a village or town."
"Maybe," Song Lan says. "But it's too soon to come to any conclusions."
They walk in a companionable silence. Xiao Xingchen takes delight in his surroundings, and Song Lan, free from the awkward social obligation to make conversation or be deemed aloof, contents himself with observing him. Xingchen stops to examine flowers, he laughs with delight when a butterfly floats by, and reaches out with webbed fingers to touch the bark of different trees or trail his hand through the grass. Every moment is filled with curiosity, and Song Lan finds himself overcome for an appreciation of the things he takes for granted.
Xiao Xingchen's delight only increases as they enter the town. He waits while Song Lan goes ahead to purchase proper clothing for him and is practically bouncing on the balls of his feet by the time they enter the marketplace. Now sturdy enough to manage on his own two legs - Song Lan should be relieved to step away - he flits through the street, polite but eyes large and taking in everything he sees. He inspects all the trinkets, even the children's toys, squints at the food for sale, even chats merrily (if awkwardly) with the vendors. Song Lan watches as his fingertips trail over necklaces and ribbons and combs.
"Oh, sir - buy a comb for your sweetheart! There is no better gift."
"I have no sweetheart," Xiao Xingchen says, "or money. But your wares are beautiful."
The shopkeeper loses interest quickly, instead drifting over to a different customer. "Are they really supposed to be for one's beloved?" Xingchen asks Song Lan.
Song Lan shrugs. "I think that's just something the shopkeepers say to convince people to buy them." He glances at Xingchen's hair. "Surely you must have combs under...where you're from. Your hair is so long."
"We do," Xingchen says. "Usually they're made from seashells. I've never seen one like this before," he says. It's nothing special, Song Lan thinks, a simple comb of darkened wood. A seashell comb would be far more beautiful. Xiao Xingchen quickly moves on, interest piqued by the next stall. Song Lan quietly buys the comb.
Song Lan spends more on dinner than he usually does. Xiao Xingchen eats with a mixture of trepidation and gusto; eager to try human dishes, though slightly wary of them. They all seem to go down well - apart from the fish, which he says, humans have no idea how to cook - and Song Lan doesn't regret it.
"I'm costing you money," Xiao Xingchen says eventually. "I can fend for myself, you know."
Song Lan shakes his head. "You don't carry money. It can't be expected. I don't care too much for money, anyway." He tilts his head to take a drink of tea.
"I thought all humans cared about money," Xiao Xingchen says.
"I need to eat and drink, and I need a place to rest my head at night," Song Lan says. "Occasionally, I need to buy new clothes or supplies. That's as far as my need for money goes."
Xiao Xingchen smiles to himself. "I seemed to have caught a rare catch among humans," he says.
The innkeep shows them to their rooms. Xiao Xingchen sits on the bed carefully. "How do you keep from falling?" he says. "Especially while sleeping?"
"You won't fall," Song Lan says. "I'll be in the next room, if you need anything."
He places the comb onto the bed beside Xiao Xingchen on the bed. "For your hair," he says, and he leaves, feeling very silly, before he can study Xiao Xingchen's expression.
They walk for another day. That evening, Xiao Xingchen stands at the riverbank and strips off his new clothes, gives them and the comb to Song Lan before diving gracefully underneath the water. The next morning, Song Lan collects him, looking more refreshed than before.
"Does it damage you?" he asks. It's noon, and the sun blares down upon them. They sit under a tree, sharing an orange. "Being out of the water for so long?"
"It doesn't damage me," Xiao Xingchen says. "It's a little tiring. It takes a lot of energy to maintain this form, so I'm not at my full power. I get tired quickly, or I can't heal minor injuries as easily. That's also because I'm so far upriver, though." Xingchen laughs, showing his sharp teeth. "I do best in saltwater."
"If you need any breaks—”
"I will tell you at once."
Song Lan takes a bite of orange. "Do others of your kind ever come ashore?"
"Not usually. It’s dangerous. My teacher always warned us that once we left her, we could never return in case we brought foreign danger back to her realm. Two of my elder siblings still took human forms and lived on the land."
Song Lan remembers he said his family were akin to cultivators.
"What happened to them?"
"One of them died. Another fell in love with a human and made the change permanently, so I haven't seen her since. I haven’t seen her since I was very young, but…I should like to see her again, if the opportunity arises."
"It's possible? To make it permanent?"
"It's supposed to be." Xingchen licks a drop of juice off his thumb. "Are all your fruits so sticky?"
"Don't you like it?"
"It's tasty. I prefer the ones from yesterday - the, what were they called?"
"Lychees."
"Yes. They were delicious."
"I'm glad you like human food," Song Lan says.
"If not, I'd be back in the water already," Xingchen says, and Song Lan gets the distinct impression that he's being teased.
There is a sombre mood in the next village they cross. It's quite small, and there's only a single, tiny inn. "Has anything strange happened here recently?" Xiao Xingchen asks the man who pours them tea.
The man grimaces. "You're cultivators?" He seems reluctant to talk about it.
"We can help," Song Lan says firmly.
"Well...it's about the river."
They both sit up. "Any disappearances? Creatures? Ghosts?"
"What? No." The man shakes his head. "We're a small village, you see, and many of the residents rely on the river. For fishing, for travel, for washing and cooking...it's always been an important part of the community. But recently, Magistrate Liu has forbidden fishing in the village."
"Magistrate Liu?"
"They say he is trying to forbid fishing in the areas immediately down and upriver of his estate, in order to keep his waters plentiful. All of the land on the riverbank in the next town has already been claimed by him."
Song Lan exchanges a look with Xingchen.
"Of course, the citizens here didn't listen - he cannot lay claim to a river which has been here long before he was or will be. But he sends men, and only this morning several of the local men were arrested for illegal fishing. You came at a bad time – everything is very tense here."
"Have you tried appealing to him?"
The man glances over his shoulder. "Master Huang, he's the most respected man in this village. Last week, he and two of his sons went to speak to the magistrate. They haven't returned. Three others have disappeared by the river recently - nobody knows if it's because of the magistrate or..." he whispers. "Or something else."
"We're heading that way," Song Lan says, "we will speak with the magistrate. He may pay us no attention. If so, I'll entreat the nearest cultivation sect to intervene."
"Thank you, Daozhang. If you're travelling upriver, don't travel near the water. The magistrate or his men might come across you and charge you of trespassing."
The man leaves. Xiao Xingchen is fuming. "How can a human think to lay claim to a realm he doesn't understand? What right does he have?"
"He has no right," Song Lan agrees. "But he has power, and money, and men, so who can stop him?"
"Us?"
Song Lan grimaces. "Maybe."
Xiao Xingchen reaches across the table and grasps his wrist. "I'm sure he's involved," he says. "A greedy magistrate trying to control the river and preventing the people from accessing it can't be a coincidence."
"Do you think he's causing the resentful energy?" Song Lan frowns. "There are people disappearing..."
Xiao Xingchen frowns, pursing his lips as he thinks. "I don't know much about magistrates," he says. "Are they rich?"
"They're usually from good families," Song Lan says. "Some of them take advantage. Not all of them, of course. But there are always those who will try to line their pockets at the expense of others."
There is only one bed in the inn that night.
Two days later, and Song Lan watches as Xiao Xingchen, in his natural form, floats on the surface of the water. Wandering cultivators like him have long since become used to the road. He hasn't noticed blisters on his feet in years. He's a fool to not have considered Xiao Xingchen until he stumbled.
Now, he swims freely. "Even an hour in the water will restore me," he promised Song Lan, so he believes him.
He swims in short laps, magnificent tail making it seem as easy as breathing.
"Song Daozhang should smile more often," Xingchen calls.
"Don't call me that."
"Why? You always flush when I say it, Zichen."
Song Lan doesn't know what to say to that, so he doesn't answer.
"Zichen? Why aren't you answering me? Am I bothering you?"
Song Lan thinks that his name sounds nicest out of Xiao Xingchen's mouth. He tries to come up with a response but before he can, Xingchen kicks his tail up, splashing water towards him. "Zichen!"
"What!"
He raises an eyebrow. "Don't ignore me."
"I never ignore you."
"Good. You're my only human companion. You need to keep me company!"
Song Lan can't stop himself from laughing. "You're currently my only companion, human or otherwise. I'm not going anywhere."
So he says, but in the distance he hears something - someone.
Xingchen hears it too. "Is someone approaching?"
"I'll be back."
Song Lan moves quickly through the trees that cover this area of the riverbank. Four men on horseback are approaching from the direction of the next town. He can tell by their dress they work for the magistrate’s office. He grimaces. If what the locals from the last village said is to be trusted, they don't take kindly to people trespassing in what they consider their property (there had been a sign, earlier, that Song Lan had translated, that said this stretch of the river was the property of Magistrate Liu and trespassers would be persecuted. In anger, Xingchen had torn it down).
It would be best, if their suspicions are correct and the magistrate is involved somehow with the current resentful energy polluting the water, if their arrival went unnoticed.
Song Lan hurries back to Xingchen.
"We need to leave, quickly," he says, as Xingchen hauls himself out of the river. "If we want to go unnoticed by the magistrate's office."
Xingchen looks at his sword - Shuanghua, Song Lan has since found out. "How many of them?"
"We don't want a fight, not now. Remaining unseen is the best option. How long will it take you to grow your legs back?"
Xingchen grimaces. "The time it takes an incense stick to burn."
Underneath everything, there's a rush of fondness - Song Lan had used the phrase the previous afternoon, and Xiao Xingchen, who has lived his life underneath the water, hadn't understood it. They had sat side by side, watching the incense Song Lan lit burn down. Xiao Xingchen adapts fast.
But primarily, he feels that they need to hurry. "We don't have enough time for that," he says, "they're on horseback."
"What are we going to do?" Xingchen asks, as Song Lan pulls him up and into his arms, hauling him over his shoulder.
"Zichen!"
"We need to go."
Xiao Xingchen is heavy, especially his tail, and Song Lan's robes get damp where they touch his skin. He doesn't squirm too much, though, so he sets off without difficulty.
He makes for the trees, and the horses are close now, so he moves as quickly and quietly as he can, moving away from the horses. Once they go far enough, they can go back out onto the road, without arising suspicion that they were in the water.
"If they know the water is polluted and they know cultivators were nearby, they'll figure out what we're looking for," Xingchen says quietly. For his initial protestations, he's wrapped himself over Song Lan's shoulder quite comfortably.
Song Lan hadn't thought about that, and his grip on Xingchen's waist tightens slightly, just where the skin merges into scales. He had barely even thought about their skin touching. Somehow, Xingchen leaps over so many of his barriers. "We'll have to be careful."
"Yes," Xingchen says, "especially because I still have my tail out. A little bit of notice would have been nice." His voice very rarely sounds strained, but it does when he says; "I can't be found out by other humans. I trust you, of course, but there are few who would take as kindly to a creature like me."
This time, when his grip tightens, Song Lan doesn't loosen it. "You make a better human than most of these real humans," he says. "You won't be found out."
Xingchen's hand reaches to where Song Lan holds him. "Thank you."
They travel hidden in the trees until the natural break of the forest. Song Lan reluctantly leaves Xingchen, who can finally begin the talismans to grow back into his legs, and tracks down a farmer, offering him a gold coin for his small wagon. Xingchen protests that he will be fine, he just needs a few more moments - but Song Lan wraps him up in his new outer robe so that his tail is completely concealed and dumps him (gently) in the cart.
Xingchen's ears are terribly red.
"Most would be very envious," he says, smoothing over the silence as Song Lan begins to push the cart, "to have a strong and handsome man wheeling them around like this."
Song Lan gives him a quiet smile. He knows Xingchen’s teasing, but he won’t take the bait. "Then you should enjoy it while it lasts."
The innkeeper in this town won't speak about the magistrate. "If you want to talk to someone," she says, "you should consult Zhu Huiqing."
Zhu Huiqing is one of the richest men in town, and apparently the most respected. According to the person they ask for directions, he increased his wealth and status solely through his own work, earning the reluctant respect of the wealthy and the admiration of the poor. He welcomes both of them into his manor, and Xiao Xingchen follows Song Lan's social cues carefully.
"Magistrate Liu has been here for almost two years," he says after the tea is poured. "And the area has been steadily declining since."
"Will he be reassigned soon?" Song Lan asks.
"One would expect - magistrates are often relocated. When he first moved here, he relied on me lots - but his near departure worries me more."
"Do you suspect him of wrongdoing?"
Zhu Huiqing has a thick moustache and even thicker brows, under which he examines Song Lan. "I do. There are three prominent families around here whose patriarch went missing after protesting Magistrate Liu's measures. With them gone, there has been no opposition as he's subsumed more communal land into his personal estate. The rivers for fifty li have been claimed by him, the forests around this town too. Anyone who enters risks persecution, and he isn't afraid to punish trespassers."
"Why?" Xiao Xingchen asks. "What does he have to gain?"
Zhu Huiqing grunts. "Officially, it's for the safety of the people. There have been sightings of ghosts, recently, and he claims these are measures to protect the people while the issue is being dealt with. However, if you pay a fee, he grants access - it's little more than an excuse to charge for entry into natural grounds."
"If there are ghosts, why not ask cultivators for assistance?" Song Lan asks.
"He has. Every few weeks we see them - always the same four, from the Hou sect nearby. If they have ever met success it does not last long; we see them after another few weeks. Magistrate Liu has cited the cost as a reason for raising local taxes."
Zhu Huiqing hesitates. "Madam Sun wouldn't speak with you earlier. Many don't like cultivators around here. The people believe they are taking orders from the magistrate instead of doing their duty. As for the taxes...A friend, Long Ru, like many of us, questioned the legitimacy of these sudden taxes. He accused Magistrate Liu of falsifying taxes to increase his own wealth. Magistrate Liu invited him to his estate to discuss matters. I haven't seen Long Ru since."
Song Lan feels distaste curdling in his stomach. The magistrate seems to be seizing public property and neglecting his duties of protecting the people in order to further his own interests. It seems unlikely to be a coincidence that the resentful energy is originating from the river - if he really is...disappearing people, it could be the source of the energy.
"He is very blatant," Xiao Xingchen comments. "He lacks subtlety if he is murdering or abducting those who question him."
Zhu Huiqing nods. "It wasn't always like this."
"Then he must be making his next move soon, if he’s getting so clumsy," Xingchen says. "Perhaps he will disappear with all his wealth, or relocate for a promotion, or use this amassed wealth for...something."
"The Hou sect cultivators failed us," Zhu Huiqing says. "Will you help us?"
Song Lan bows. "If I might make a suggestion. Send for Sect Leader Hou. If it is outer disciples accepting these bribes, it is likely without his awareness and he will punish them himself. They're likely to be expelled if it's true."
"And the magistrate?"
"We are only cultivators. We cannot take action without proof, particularly when not against other cultivators." Zhu Huiqing bristles, but Song Lan continues. "We will investigate tonight. Resentful energy is polluting the river, and we believe the source is connected to Magistrate Liu. If we find evidence of his crimes, we shall apprehend him. I'd suggest you contact the nearest lord or an official from a different county so that the proper authorities can take him into custody."
"How will you investigate?" Zhu Huiqing asks as they say their goodbyes. "His estate is tightly guarded. Even the section of the river that runs through it is guarded day and night."
"You can access his manor through the river?" Xingchen asks.
"It winds around the east side of the estate and a tributary flows through his private walled garden. Before, in better days – many of us had been invited to enjoy the garden. Now, the entire estate is well guarded, and nobody enters without an invitation from the magistrate. There is a bridge so that no boat can enter, and guards man this bridge day and night."
Xiao Xingchen has a twinkle in his eye when he turns to Song Lan. "We may have a way around that."
Song Lan is in the river.
Song Lan is in the water as he never has been before.
The bubble - from Xingchen's intricate talisman - forms a sphere around his head. It's not air, Xingchen had told him so, but a layer of protection that enables him to breathe as easily as on land, even when he's under the surface.
Xingchen clutches his hand. Song Lan lets him drag him along. His tail slinks in gentle but powerful movement, propelling them through the water more gracefully and efficiently than Song Lan could ever swim.
Xiao Xingchen is in his element. His hair flows back in a cloud behind him, and the scales and gills which Song Lan once found so perplexing have an ethereal beauty underneath the surface.
"I only wish I could bring you out to sea," Xingchen had said, preparing Song Lan for the dive. "There is so much life that humans never see. A haunted river cannot compare to the ocean."
Even so, Song Lan is filled with wonder, this far beneath the surface without the agonising pressure on his lungs.
Xiao Xingchen brings them deep as they cross under the bridge. They can both feel the resentful energy, pulsing, growing stronger. They are nearly upon it.
They follow the resentful energy into a small creek. When they surface, Song Lan realises at once that they have risen inside the private garden of the magistrate, if the shrubs and blooms and carefully stoned paths are anything to go by. It may have been a beautiful garden once, but even now in summer, when the flowers should be in full bloom, the plants are dead from lack of care. The small leisure boat tied down must have been a pretty thing once, but now is largely rotted and moulded would that bobs gently in the water. Nobody has been here in some time. What once were carefully stoned pathways have weeds sprouting up, and the slope up from the river has turned into a sludge of mud.
Further along this barrier of mud between river and garden, there is a body. Song Lan recognises the stench immediately.
Beside him, Xiao Xingchen coughs. "Human flesh?"
They approach. It's not a pretty sight. There are bodies, half-buried, half-dumped in the mud, in various state of decomposition. Maybe seven, maybe eight.
"This is the source," Xingchen says, and Song Lan agrees, the resentful energy is so strong here. "These spirits want justice."
Song Lan swims toward the riverbank. "We need to investigate," he says, "to be beyond doubt that the magistrate is responsible for this." He already is thinking of which purification talismans he can draw to put a temporary stopper on the resentful energy oozing out of the place.
"Who else could it be?" Xingchen asks, exasperated.
Song Lan puts a hand on the riverbank, and as soon as his hand touches the land he knows he's made a mistake. He feels a tremor. There were wards.
He turns to Xingchen. "Go under," he says.
Song Lan pulls himself to his feet, and sure enough the gate to the garden bursts open just as Xingchen conceals himself under the surface.
There are two cultivators, four more men, and an elaborately dressed man who can only be Magistrate Liu.
"They said new cultivators had entered town," the magistrate says casually. He has a mean little face, which he tries to compensate for with his beautiful clothing. "I didn't expect you to get this far. Tell me, which sect do you belong to?"
Song Lan reaches for Fuxue, but the other blades rise.
"I am a rogue cultivator," he says, reluctantly. "Investigating the resentful energy plaguing the river communities."
The magistrate smiles in a thin line. "You're clearly better than this lot if you got past their posts," he says, "so perhaps I may interest you with an offer."
"A bribe, you mean?"
"Surely a rogue cultivator such as yourself tires. Wouldn't you like to stay here a while? We can arrange a price. All you would have to do is deal with the disturbances in the village."
"The disturbances in the village are arising from the people you have murdered," Song Lan says, anger flaring in his gut. He can smell the dead in the air. "Slaughtering opposition is one thing, refusing to give them proper burials is another."
The magistrate pretends to look confused. Overhead, the sky rumbles. "Of course we refused them proper burials," he says, as if it’s obvious. "How else could I create a source of resentful energy? The regular presence of cultivators raises expenses, so I can raise taxes - if I want the people to obey, I need them to have something to fear. Oh, Daozhang, don't look at me like that - I can tell you've already worked it out, there's no need for me to lie, don't you think?"
The intentional desecration of corpses in order to cheat people out of their money...Song Lan can hardly believe what he is hearing. "Are you aware that people for many miles are suffering because of resentful energy?" he finds himself asking, despite knowing that the magistrate doesn't care. "Are you aware that the resentful energy is attracting demons and ghosts all along the river?"
Song Lan can feel - something, behind him. Anger. From the water. The spirits know their murderer is here. He would wager that the magistrate does not come here often.
Magistrate Liu simply waves him off. "No need to boast of your moral high ground, Daozhang. If I may give a word of advice - the morals and principles you cultivators in your temples study so diligently are no longer the currency of the people. Currency is the currency of the people. The sooner one accepts this, the sooner they prosper - but ah, I suppose there will be no time for you to amend your ways. I assume your answer is no?"
Song Lan draws Fuxue, hand tight on its hilt. "No."
"As I thought. Kill him."
The sky opens, and it begins to rain.
The first cultivator lunges towards Song Lan, and suddenly it gets very cold.
The cultivator strikes with his sword, and his form is good, but Song Lan is better. He meets the blow and Fuxue sings, and he pivots in order to slash through the talisman the other cultivator sends him. The rain is so cold now that he almost flinches, but he ducks out of reach of the first cultivator's sword before he slashes across the second's chest.
He doesn't want to kill them.
The second cultivator stumbles back, grasping at his chest as blood seeps through. It's a serious wound, but he immediately turns his golden core's attention to stopping the blood, and Song Lan has a bit of breathing space.
The first dives back into the fight in earnest, and Song Lan has to duck backwards to avoid the blow, side-stepping in an attempt to strike him from the side, but the cultivator knows how fast he is now and anticipates it. Their swords meet once, twice, three times, and over the din of it all he hears the magistrate commanding his men to help kill him if they want to eat tonight.
The magistrate's men, the ones who aren't cultivators, they pose an even worse problem. Song Lan will not strike a normal person with a spiritual weapon.
Two of them are armed with bows. They take aim.
Fuck.
Song Lan jumps, moving towards the high wall of the garden, making as if he's about to flee. The cultivator follows in pursuit, but Song Lan kicks off the wall to give himself momentum, his abrupt change not giving the cultivator anytime to react before Fuxue digs into his shoulder. Arrows fly, but none meet their mark.
"You dispatched my cultivators," the magistrate says, fear in his voice as Song Lan thuds to the ground.
His men stand in a half-circle, arms shaking. They're terrified of him.
"You won't kill ordinary men, would you Daozhang? They wouldn't stand a chance against you." Magistrate Liu edges along the opposite wall. Song Lan lowers Fuxue.
"You're a coward," he says.
"If you're not a coward, go die a good death," the magistrate counters. "Get him, you worthless rats."
Bows raise again, and other crude weapons, and Song Lan doesn't know how to do this without bloodshed-
A cracking sound rips through the garden. Song Lan watches, astonished, as the water on the rain-soaked ground begins to freeze. It's too quick to be natural, and as the men yelp in fear, it moves up to their ankles. One drops his bow in fright, and as soon as it touches the ground it too is subsumed by the ice. It spreads, crawling up the entrance of the walled garden, sealing it shut, fractures of frost spider-webbing across its surface. It’s terrifying. It’s strangely beautiful. It’s—
Song Lan looks to his right, toward the river, where Xingchen has pulled himself up out of the creek, Shuanghua's tip dug into the earth, eyes closed.
Something he can't name swells in his chest.
"What -- a demon!" the magistrate shouts, back pressed against the wall and yet untouched by Xingchen's ice. "Kill it!"
The poor man still holding his bow fires a shaky arrow at Xingchen.
At Xingchen, whose eyes are still closed, brow furrowed in concentration as he spreads his cultivation through the ground, through the ice.
Song Lan might have been able to knock the arrow out of the air with Fuxue. He has successfully performed similar stunts before. His brain doesn't seem to function properly around Xingchen, however, so he dives in front of him, grunting in pain when the arrow enters his arm. He crumbles to one knee, mainly from the shock of the pain, and even as his golden core whirs into action against the wound the tip of a blade rests against his neck. The first cultivator he struck down, earlier.
Fuck.
Song Lan dropped Fuxue when his arm was struck. Her sheath is in his left hand, but it's not enough - the cold steel digs into the tender flesh of his neck.
"Drop your weapon," cries the magistrate, and when Song Lan turns, he realises why Xiao Xingchen spent so much energy sealing up the entrance to the walled garden. Of course; the magistrate is a coward, and when he saw that the entrance was sealed he made for the old boat tied in the creek, the only way he could see out.
He didn't know that a creature like Xingchen - incredible, strong, Xingchen - was in the water.
The magistrate is on his knees now, half in the mud, half in the water, and Shuanghua is at his throat.
Xingchen's smile is wonderfully polite. "I suggest you mind your employer's suggestion," he says.
The cultivator in front of Song Lan looks unsure whether to run or to attack.
"Don't worry - we're not interested in killing. However, your magistrate will suffer the consequences if you don't obey—”
The cultivator's sword drops to the ground with a loud clang.
"Zichen," XIngchen says, casually.
"Yes?"
"Your cultivators can seal off their spiritual energy, yes?"
Pressing his hand against the wound on his arm, Song Lan stands, kicking the cultivator's sword away before picking up Fuxue. "Yes."
Xingchen nods at the cultivator. He does as ordered.
"Please," the magistrate begs, tears spilling down his cheeks. "Please - let me go. I can pay you; I'll leave this town and never return, I'll dedicate my life to repenting, please-"
"Zichen," Xingchen cuts through him as if he doesn't hear him. "Are you okay? You're injured." He hesitates. "Because of me."
Song Lan shakes his head, that same unknowable emotion filling his lungs. He jerks his head towards the men still frozen in spot, to the cultivators on the ground. "You saved me. You better let go of the ice, though. They might lose their toes."
"You underestimate me," Xingchen says, "if you think I hadn't factored that in." And just like that, the ice melts, the sharp freezing breath in the wind dissipates.
Song Lan is about to start hunting for his rope, with the intention of binding their wrists together, when he sees something move.
He straightens his back. "Xingchen," he says.
"What?"
"Xingchen. There's something in the water."
Xingchen looks behind him, ignoring the magistrate's continued pleas and begging. There are shapes, small but dark, and lots of them, flitting down, and—
"It's an aqua demon," Song Lan says, and he breaks into a run toward the creek. He'll haul Xingchen out of there if he has to, he's carried him in his tailed form as well, it won't make a difference now—
Xingchen looks at him, eyes wide, opens his mouth to say something—
—then is pulled underwater. He and the magistrate both disappear under the surface, now dark as the night sky.
Song Lan skids to a stop, falling on all fours at the riverbank. Fool! Of course, he should have anticipated this - anticipated something. The resentful energy was directed at the magistrate, and it was pooled so heavily in the water - of course it would react to the magistrate splashing around in it. And Xingchen - Xingchen was securing him, securing the magistrate in order to protect Song Lan, and now—
"Xiao Xingchen!" he shouts, voice reflecting dully off the water, now still.
Song Lan rows the boat further out into the river.
Zhu Heiqing had arrived shortly after Xingchen and the magistrate had disappeared. He took care of everything else; the cultivators have been punished and expelled from their sect, their sect leader having come in person to offer profuse apologies and purify the remaining resentful energy himself. There hadn't been too much left. They had gotten their revenge on the magistrate, after all. The people will no longer be bothered by the river.
What comes next is the politics, and Song Lan leaves that to the community. He's never been good at any of that; he can't conceal his goals or hide agendas in the way others can. People call him aloof. Song Lan thinks he is an open book.
Helping people by doing what he's good at, that's all he can offer. So instead, he returns to the river and finds himself a boat.
The moon is full and bright.
There's a quiet splash. He turns.
Xingchen swims up to the boat, crossing his arms on the wood and resting his chin on them. "I apologise for the abrupt exit."
He looks a little haggard, and there's an ugly little wound under his right eye, but his smile is true.
"You scared me," Song Lan says, allowing himself to be as open as he wants to be, "until the others arrived, and I realised you couldn't show yourself."
"I'm glad you worked it out. I was worried you wouldn't, but I trusted you," Xiao Xingchen says. "I would have waited in this river until you came."
Fondness threatens to suffocate Song Lan. It swells inside him, making it difficult to speak. "The magistrate?"
Xingchen's smile falters. "I couldn't save him." In a smaller voice, "I'm not sure if I wanted to. The resentful energy is gone. The river is pure again."
Song Lan looks at Xiao Xingchen's hands resting in front of him. So far, he has pushed through touching Xingchen - out of necessity, and practicality, but it has been easier than with others. But now...there is no need, or necessity, or practical reason to hold his hand, but Song Lan craves this casual touch like he never has before.
He takes a deep breath, placing his hand next to Xingchen's. His little finger grazes the skin of Xingchen's.
"So," he asks, not wanting to ask this question at all. "What next?"
It's almost time for him to return to Baixue Temple. His home, located at the foot of a mountain, the journey of rocky terrain and dense forestry and—
And he desperately wants Xingchen to come with him, but how can he ask this of him?
Xingchen looks down. "I need to return to the ocean," he says quietly. "The ice - back there, it takes a strain on me. I may have pushed myself. I won't fully recover until I'm back in the ocean."
Song Lan nods. "You need to do what you must," he says.
Xingchen looks up, eyes bright and earnest. Song Lan once thought that Xiao Xingchen, at least in regard to facial features, looked like a human. He sees how wrong he is now; no human could ever hold a flame to Xingchen, especially not as he looks at Song Lan like this, illuminated in the moonlight.
"I'll come back," he promises. "I will find you again, strong, handsome cultivator."
"Will you tease me even through a goodbye?"
Xingchen smiles, showing a flash of teeth, and Song Lan finds himself smiling too, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt, smiling like he hasn't smiled in - in years, even when he is filled with the inexplicable urge to cry. Why does this parting fill him with so much sadness?
"Next time, you will have to tease me back." Xiao Xingchen's little finger presses against his own.
"Next time." Song Lan nods.
Xiao Xingchen smiles. "I'm glad it was you I found," he says, before pushing himself away from the boat. "Travel near rivers, Zichen."
Song Lan raises a hand, but Xiao Xingchen has already disappeared from sight, down under the surface. He stays and watches until even his ripples have gone, and the water is still in the moonlight.