Archive of Our Own ^beta

Zhou Zishu never leaves the armory. Wen Kexing was a fool to believe otherwise.

Perhaps the other man had hoped his dearly beloved A-Xu would make a different decision this time around. Perhaps he hadn’t learnt a thing from the last incident. Perhaps he hadn’t been thinking. Perhaps the other man had never truly known Zhou Zishu at all.

As soon as he opened his eyes to the lifeless body of his confidant, the former head of the Window of Heaven immediately knew what had happened. Wen Kexing had lied to him. In a twisted act of hypocrisy, the very same man who had been berating him for going off to die alone had done so himself a mere few shichen later.

If he weren’t feeling nothing, Zhou Zishu was certain he would be enraged.

For a while he had sat there, desperately searching for any sign of life within the quiet, still body of his best friend. The stark white hair atop the other’s head seemed as though it were a reflection of the emptiness found within, the bright and lively color drained completely from the silent corpse.

Memories flew by the now-immortal’s mind, looping in a seemingly never-ending show. Every moment they had spent together, every smile, every fight, every touch--as though his mind were trying to burn each single breath into his memory so he might never forget it.

The color of his shidi’s hair. That insufferable smile. The flirtatious poetry. The vicious fighting style. A lilting voice.

Trapped within the confines of the infamous armory, Zhou Zishu now found himself with more time than he had ever imagined.

Alone.

With only the body of his very heart and soul growing ever-colder in his arms.

Out of nowhere, a sudden desperation took hold within the martial artist’s heart, reaching up to grasp at his lungs. Choking out a breath, the man gently put his reason for living back down on the platform and scrambled towards the packed bookshelves on shaking limbs.

It had been just a glimpse he had caught, during those moments before that foolish companion of his had suggested the idea that would lead to their current situation. The pair had been exploring the treasures hidden within the hideaway, scrolling through the various bound pages and scrolls that seemed to fill up even the very floors of the fortress. Zhou Zishu had scanned over a few of the texts here and there, more interested in the more famous pieces said to be within.

At the time he had merely glazed over the words, throwing aside anything that didn’t have some relation to one of the greatly coveted secrets of the stronghold.

It was lucky he had managed to remember such a small moment while recalling his memories.

Remembering the exact location of the scroll he had been glancing over at the time proved to be more difficult than expected. There were quite a number of rooms within this large bunker, so many that it felt as though a century had passed by the time Zhou Zishu found what he had been looking for once more.

Given how he was now an immortal trapped without the sun to show the passing of days, it might have been.

Shaking hands scrambled to pick up the familiar cylinder, quickly opening up the scroll. It was lucky that the material used for this particular tome was on the sturdier side, any weaker one might have ripped at the force the man used to throw it open.

A pair of dark brown eyes quickly flew across the page, searching for the key words he knew to be found there with a sort of profoundly frantic desperation found in only those who had been pushed to the very edge of their limits.

“It’s possible with this array…” Zhou Zishu mumbled to himself, a pale finger coming up to trace over the diagram surrounded by the instructions on how to successfully power it.

If he were still the Zhou Zishu of before, a martial artist with damaged meridians and little internal power left to even survive the next few years, it would be impossible. Now, as an immortal with overwhelming power, as long as he could cultivate himself, there remained a chance he could use this ability.

Zhou Zishu had not been raised as a cultivator, at least, not the sort who had these sorts of abilities. Even immortality had seemed more of a legend than a reality only a year or so ago.

Now, though, he had an entire armory filled with knowledge, and an eternity to practice. Surely this was not what Wen Kexing had wanted him to do with this new beginning--with this second chance at life he had been gifted. But Zhou Zishu found he didn’t care much. This was his life, the life of a weary man who had been content to die, now thrust into a solitary immortality.

If he could not have this goal to keep him going, to have this plan to work for, this hope for another chance; Zhou Zishu was more than certain he would go insane.

And so he read and cultivated. With all the time in the world and all the knowledge of the pugilist realm at his fingertips, it was impossible for the former assassin not to reach his goal. Time was impossible to count within the confines of the armory, perhaps days passed, perhaps years, decades, even centuries. At some point the sole surviving member of their little not-family had covered up his love’s--for he could say with certainty that was what the other man was, had been--body with his own outer robe, as though shielding the forever frozen cadaver from the cold that had long sunken through his bones.

Something seemed to keep the body from decaying, whether it be a byproduct of the spell or something having to do with the fortress, something Zhou Zishu both abhorred and felt beholden to. At times he would speak to the empty vessel, as though his beloved were merely sleeping, saying all the words he had never gotten the chance to.

An anger at the betrayal. The grief over everything that had happened in those whirlwind days before the end. Of the pain and hurt, the never-ending loneliness and regret. Of a love never shared aloud.

By the time the head of Four Seasons Manor had finally achieved his goal, the amount of snow that had piled up outside the entrance would make sure no one else could enter the armory for any sort of foreseeable future. Zhou Zishu had no way of knowing this, he had never attempted to leave his prison, working day and night tirelessly to strengthen his cultivation, never once stopping to rest or eat. It truly was a lucky thing he had become an immortal.

Thin snow-white hands drew the array on that accursed platform with a piece of charcoal. There had been a number of them in one of the desks, Zhou Zishu had made notes now and again while he worked on strengthening himself.

Once triple-checking to make sure he had drawn it correctly, the immortal took the armory key he had been keeping out of his hair and put it down in the middle of the array, sitting with it between his crossed legs. If all went well, he would be able to use the array and all of his own cultivation power to send himself back in time. It was unclear just when he would be sent back to within his own past, though he hoped to use the armory key as an anchor to tie the point down to sometime after he and Wen Kexing had met once more that fateful sunny day.

With a deep breath, Zhou Zishu took one last look at the corpse now laying against the wall across from him, unable to tear his eyes away as the painful process began. It felt like fire within his meridians, even more intense than the worst of his attacks under the nails had been.

“Lao Wen...I’m going to save you this time,” he spoke, though whether to the unmoving corpse or himself, there was no one else around to say.

As the pain grew, Zhou Zishu’s vision began to fade away, a darkness creeping into the corner of his eyes. He held on for as long as he could, trying his hardest to avoid fainting at the horrendous pain, a stark coldness growing ever stronger within him. With his teeth grit in concentration, nails digging into his palms, the man continued to stare at the man motivating his attempts, refusing to give in.

Before the immortal had the chance to realize it, darkness took hold of him.

“Ge!” a voice called out, snapping the man from the nothingness he had found himself encased in. Zhou Zishu looked down at the ground in confusion, dark-colored eyes rising to take in his surroundings.

With shock, the former immortal immediately recognized where and when he was, gaze snapping to meet the other people standing near him. Gu Xiang stood dressed in her wedding robes, looking as brilliant as she had this very day so long ago, face eager as she looked upon him. The rest of their little entourage stood around in a cluster, red decorations covering the usually desolate Ghost Valley as far as the eye could see.

Seeing these young faces again was almost more than the man could take, those who had once been long dead and gone beamed at him, his little disciple he had never seen again bouncing on the heels of his boots, excited at the idea of attending a wedding, even his two friends he had last parted with when he galloped towards his impending death were in high spirits.

Dark eyes moved to the side, barely able to believe the array he had bet everything on had truly worked.

The man in red standing with his back towards them was the most familiar of them all. It was a figure Zhou Zishu had memorized, the only other human being trapped within that armory with him for those endless years. Memories had done his heart no justice, the Ghost Valley Master’s wonderfully long dark hair trailing down his back.

Even without seeing his beloved’s face, he knew this had been worth it.

“Ge! Are you listening? Convince Master to let them in,” their not-quite blushing bride repeated, her short temper already fraying at the lack of response.

Quickly shaking himself from his surprise, the head of Four Seasons Manor focused in on what was going on around him. He could take time to marvel at his trip to the past after he had dealt with this. If he could change what happened today, how much better a future would there be for them all? When he had used the method found within that scroll, Zhou Zishu had been hoping for a chance to go back far enough to save as many people as he possibly could from the mistakes he had made. While it seemed like he wouldn’t be able to do anything for the deceased members of his sect who had followed him in servitude to the Prince, at least now he could make up for convincing Lao Wen to let these deceitful bastards inside.

He had never gotten the chance to apologize for it, in the end.

It was one of the many regrets he had been stewing over during those endless days.

With a serious look, the blue-garbed man placed one hand on the girl’s shoulder, looking her straight in the eye, “Why don’t you let me go see what they want first. I know you two trust them, but it doesn’t hurt to be cautious,” it was impossible for him to say he already knew the true reason the members of Cao Weining’s sect were here. Not only because it would reveal he had traveled from the future, a ludicrous enough idea on its own, but because he knew how much trust the couple had in the kindness of the groom’s sect.

Unhappy, Gu Xiang grumbled, looking down, “What’s there to check on, Cao da-ge’s sect wouldn’t do anything to us…”

Cao Weining shared her sentiments, “Zhou-xiong, really, there’s no need to be cautious! Shifu was probably persuaded by the others and came to give their regards, you don’t have to trouble yourself,” wide eyes pleading. If Zhou Zishu hadn’t known the truth, he would have agreed easily, weak as ever to such tactics.

“No. You two wait here. Chengling, stay with them. I’ll bring them back here to greet you all,” he lied, ordering his ever-filal disciple to stay out of the way. It wouldn’t do for the kid to get in the way somehow.

The boy gave a nod with a sound of agreement, turning to the two elder teens near him, “It’ll be alright, Shifu just wants to make sure everything goes okay,” doing his best to assuage the obvious unease the couple shared.

“Mm, but--” the former Amethyst Fiend began, ever-eager to argue more.

A clear voice cut through the complaint, someone moving to stand beside Zhou Zishu, waving a fan just enough to provide air for the two of them, “Your attempt to try and get A-Xu to convince me failed and you still want to argue? Stay here, the two of us will go greet our future in-laws,” the tone light and teasing, just as it had been in the memories the time traveler had drowned himself in for years on end.

Zhou Zishu was almost unable to bring himself not to turn and look at the other man, frozen on the spot with the overwhelming tidal wave of emotions crashing over his heart and soul. He had thought he would never hear that voice again for the longest time, only able to attempt to recall it through recollections and daydreaming. To be standing here, with that person beside him, to hear him speak, feel his presence alive, the warmth of another living being by his side--

If he turned to look now, he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep up the act of normalcy.

Without directly looking at the other man, Zhou Zishu turned his head towards the gates and spoke, “No. Lao Wen,” it was an onerous effort to keep his voice from shaking at the all-too familiar address on his tongue, long-unused, “stay here and help get everything ready. I’m enough alone to go talk to them,” he paused here, forcing a light joke, “unless you think A-Xiang should be in charge of putting the rest of the event together?”

He couldn’t allow the taller man to come with him. Lao Wen was strong, strong enough he could take on Mo Huaiyang alone, but the injuries he would sustain still haunted the back of Zhou Zishu’s mind. Not to mention, if the two fought together with greater ease, it would be difficult to explain how the supposedly sickly ex-assassin had gotten his martial arts back to the level they were at his peak.

“A-Xu, are you hiding something from me?” the playful response came back, more truth to the jab than the other man could ever possibly know. Continuing to leisurely wave the fan he had seemingly pulled out of nowhere, he continued, “But, you do have a point. If we let this girl run everything, this auspicious day would lose any fortune it might bring,” closing the accessory to gently point it towards the young woman’s forehead.

His grey mood had obviously been improved by Zhou Zishu’s agreement, the former aggravation clouding his day at the prospect of marrying his little girl off to what he considered a simultaneously worthy and unworthy boy lightening a bit.

“Master!” said girl stomped, looking as put-out as could be.

Zhou Zishu had missed this. The bantering, the playful talks back-and-forth among the people he cared for. Being around others, listening to conversation around him had seemed like nothing but a distant dream.

Taking his chance to excuse himself, the elder martial artist spoke, “Then, I’ll be going. You all keep getting ready, it shouldn’t take too long,” dismissing himself without another word.

It was simple to get the ghosts guarding the entrance way to open the door for him. Simpler still to walk out along among the beating of the drums, the gate closed quickly behind him once again as he had instructed the underlings to do. A few of the subordinates chose to come out with him, as though sensing what would be taking place.

Mo Huaiyang stood among a spattering of his disciples, looking for all the world of a faux-righteous pugilist. Just like the rest of them.

“Zhou-daxia, I wasn’t expecting you to be the one to come and greet us,” he spoke plainly, bowing in a mockery of respect. As if he were truly here to give anything of the sort.

Not taking any of the falsities for the illusions they tried to show, Zhou Zishu put one hand on the handle of his sword, staring straight at the other man, “I’ll give you this chance to turn and walk away. If you don’t, you can’t blame me for killing all of you here and now,” his tone leaving no room for argument.

Evidently not bothering to keep up the act, the elder man put one hand to his own sword, the disciples around him similarly moving into a ready stance, “...It seems you already found out. Do you really think you can take all of us alone? Zhou-daxia, you are not one of the ghosts of Ghost Valley, you can leave instead of throwing your lot in with them,” the words spat out with disgust. As though it were the most revolting thing in the world to stand by the side of those he loved.

Pulling out his sword, Zhou Zishu held it out in front of him, eyes blocks of ice, “Better than to run away like a coward,” sheer confidence in his every movement. Not in his abilities, but in his decision.

Last time around, the drums had been used as a signal to let the waiting martial artists lead an even greater ambush into the open Ghost Valley doors. Zhou Zishu would not let it come to that situation again.

Although the cultivation he had gained in the previous timeline was used up to allow himself to return to the past, the former head of the Window of Heaven still remained one of the strongest martial arts masters in the pugilist world with his abilities at their peak once more. The disciples were fairly easy to take down on their own, more of a struggle when it came to dealing with the large number of them.

It had been a long time since Zhou Zishu had needed to move so quickly, longer still when including his years alone in the armory. Thankfully this body seemed to remember how to move as fast as it had during his time as an assassin, the man turning this way and that, his sword flying out as he cut down disciple after disciple.

Mo Huaiyang seemed to be hanging back, as though waiting for the correct moment to strike out at him. Unsurprisingly, the man appeared to prefer sneak attacks. Not that the head of the Four Seasons Manor would allow him the chance to conduct any.

With most of the disciples either dead or heavily injured, Zhou Zishu himself with nary a cut on him, the two men faced each other silently. It was a testament to the other’s character that he showed no concern for any of the fallen students, only keeping his attention on the other martial artist before him.

Not wanting to waste words, Zhou Zishu lunged forward, sword aiming for the other man’s chest. His opponent answered with a quick dodge, thrusting his own weapon out towards the time traveler’s left arm.

The two danced around each other, exchanging blows and leaping back before either could get a hit in. Mo Huaiyang would jump towards him, aiming for his neck or chest, while the former assassin would use his footwork to lightly go just out of reach, turning to have the other man’s back now facing him.

He had gotten a few light cuts in here and there, always just missing the deadly injury he was trying to inflict on the other.

At this point it seemed that if things remained as they were, it would be more of a battle of endurance than anything else. That wouldn’t do.

Leaping backwards, Zhou Zishu held his sword out in front of him, flicking the little bit of blood he had managed to draw off of its body without a sound. The other stared him down, unminding of the small wounds on his arm.

The two stood silently for a moment, both staying in a ready position, before leaping forward at the same time. Mo Huaiyang dodged the thrust aimed for his chest, throwing out his own blade with an intensity the ex-assassin had not had aimed towards him in a long time.

Blood spilled from the wound the shorter man had been unable to completely avoid, missing his chest directly, yet getting him in the side. Paying it no attention, Zhou Zishu threw out a palm filled with qi, slamming it right into the other man’s chest.

Letting out a gasp, the Gentle Wind Sword Sect member flew back, unable to help spurting out a mouthful of blood. The sword was pulled out as well, fresh blood flowing from the new wound in the younger martial artist’s side. And yet, Zhou Zishu paid it no mind.

He was more than used to pain. This sort of thing was nothing in the face of everything he had experienced.

Feet moving quickly, the Four Seasons Manor master took the chance to attack as the other grasped at his chest in pain. Before the elder could even raise his hand back to the sword that had lay limp at his side, Baiyi had already cut through his chest, skewering him all the way through.

“Y..ou..trai..tor…” the dying man spat out, more blood escaping his mouth as he did.

Uncaring, the former assassin coldly pulled his blade back out, leaving the other to fall onto the dirty ground amongst his fallen disciples. Zhou Zishu stood there for a moment, making sure that no reinforcements were coming nor that the other man would be able to rise again.

Satisfied after a few moments, he turned back towards the gates, ignoring the shock of the ghosts left out on lookout. A few of them had rushed ahead at the attack, helping to defeat a number of the disciples converging on their lone target. He’d have to find some way to thank them later.

With a nod, he signaled for the underlings to let him back inside, waiting patiently as the doors opened once more. As he walked inside, Zhou Zishu thought about how he would possibly explain away the injury he had sustained in the fight. It seemed improbable to come up with a believable lie without telling at least some of the truth, unfortunately. He had been hoping to avoid putting any sort of damper on the wedding with the news of Cao Weining’s master’s treachery, but it seemed as though that was an inevitability.

Still, it was better than the alternative.

One hand casually holding his still-bleeding wound, the former head of the Window of Heaven strolled back inside, searching for someone that might be able to give him a hand. If he could bandage the wound now, it was less likely that Lao Wen would fret over it. He didn’t want his first real interaction with the other man to be diluted with unnecessary fussing on his soulmate’s part.

It’s a simple thing to get one of the ghost underlings to bring him a roll of bandages and a bucket of water. Less simple is actually wrapping his wound. There are few empty rooms left for him to treat his injuries in, but one of the women serving under the Tragicomic Ghost points him towards a quiet room inside the main building, off down to the side. No one seems to notice his wound as he walks through the hallways filled with people going this way and that, all too preoccupied with setting up everything necessary for the wedding.

Not that he was complaining.

Sliding the door closed behind him, Zhou Zishu lets out a breath of relief and pulls at his outer robe, untying his sash while simultaneously putting down the bucket and rag he had been carrying. It’s a shame these now had a hole in them, even worse that the deep noble blue is stained with rust going almost entirely down one side. There had to be some way he could clean it discreetly, though getting enough water to be able to clean the thing might prove difficult with how busy everyone is.

The clothing sticks to his skin, blood coagulating, binding the clothes to his bare side. It’s a bit of an effort to peel them away, the painful tug at his wound somehow more jarring than the initial stab had been on its own. The bandages he had hidden in his clothing pop out too, only to be put on a nearby table to wait until he’s ready for them.

Dipping the rag he had been given into the water, the former assassin slowly and methodically cleans his wound of any excess blood. It’s still bleeding now, albeit much less heavily than before. The slightly lessened flow of blood is quickly stifled by the now-reddened rag, the schmatte thrown back into the equally red-dyed bucket of water once he’s deemed himself clean enough. Rummaging around his pockets produced a small container of salve, one of his stash of hidden antidotes and medicines, slathering some over the wound.

Now comes the hard part. Bandaging has never been his most impressive of skills; he’s passable at best, downright awful at worst. Back turned towards the door, the man works on winding the white gauze around his torso, covering up more of his chest than absolutely necessary. In his mind he makes up the excuse he’s doing it to hide the lack of nails in his chest, but a part of him knows he’s just a wretch at neatly tying it together.

“A-Xu, what are you doing?”

The door opens behind him and he freezes, almost turning around before he registers the voice that had spoken.

He absolutely cannot allow Lao Wen to see his chest.

Feeling no need to lie to the Ghost Valley Master, it was not his wedding that would be ruined by this information, Zhou Zishu replies honestly, “Mo Huaiyang and his disciples came to show their feelings on the wedding taking place today,” hands still winding the seemingly never-ending bandage. It seemed as though he had forgotten to bring something to cut it with, having nothing to do but endlessly wrap the gauze further and further down his chest.

The other man approaches him, a frustration emanating from his person, “I knew I should have gone with you, your martial arts are still hampered by the nails. How badly are you hurt? Where is he? I’ll go and kill them right now. That stupid boy and that foolish girl are still too naiive, believing he came here with good intentions,” the poor mood returning once again, unsuprising given the circumstances.

“Lao Wen, you worry too much. I already took care of it, the guards helped, he only got me in the side once,” gesturing towards his injury, now wrapped up in layers upon layers of white.

His confidant couldn’t help but let out a laugh at the sight, his anger dissipating slightly as he reached forward with gentle hands, “A-Xu, I think you should avoid a future in healing, I’m afraid all of your patients would end up needing someone to save them from your work. Here, let me,” unwrapping the mess Zhou Zishu had made, meticulously doing a proper job this time around.

Standing still, the ex-assassin allowed the other to tend to his wound, keeping his back straight as he did so. Once his companion had finished the job, tying the ends neatly, the shorter quickly moved to shrug back on his inner robe, stopped by a hand on his arm.

Although he couldn’t see them, the martial artist felt eyes on him. The other man spoke, “I’ll get you a different set of clothes, to think these are already ruined,” he tsked lightly, “A-Xu, what am I to do with you?”

“Get me a new set of robes, that wasn’t a problem for you before,” in fact, all of his current robes had been gifted to him by Lao Wen. Zhou Zishu hadn’t exactly been packing up various sets of clothing for him to wear on his grand adventure as a dying beggar.

With a faux-sigh, the taller man turned to leave, “Yes, yes, this servant will go bring new clothes for Manor Lord Zhou. You stay here, I shouldn’t be too long,” closing the door shut behind him.

While he waited, never once shifting in his spot, the former immortal pondered on how easy it was to slip back into bantering. He had expected it to be difficult, if not outright impossible, for him to act as normally as he had the first time around, but things were proving more easy than he had expected. It felt as though he were slipping back into an old pair of boots he had well-worn, found once again in the storeroom after searching for them for what seemed an eternity.

Soon enough the younger man returned, Zhou Zishu now willing to turn around as the bandages managed to successfully cover almost the entirety of his chest. His shidi helped him to get dressed, holding the sleeves up so the injured man could slip his arms through without pulling at his wounded side.

This was the first time he let himself look upon his love once more in this lifetime, the sight almost knocking the breath right out of his lungs. It took everything in him to remain acting as normal, eyes drinking in the sight of a living, healthy Lao Wen. His brown hair. The shade of his skin, so different from the ice-white of his corpse. His bright eyes, no longer forever closed in eternal sleep. His movements. His breathing. All things he could never witness ever again.

It was impossible for him to look away once he had finally granted himself access, the man unable to bear moving his eyes from the living, breathing heart and soul helping him put his clothes on.

It felt as though, after a long period of cold, he could finally feel the sun again.

Tying the sash once more, this outfit practically identical to the last, the Four Seasons Manor Lord looked as though he weren’t injured at all. If one didn’t know beforehand, they might think him to be just as healthy as he had been earlier this afternoon.

Lao Wen looked him over, as though searching for anything that might give away the truth to the soon-to-be newlyweds before nodding to himself in satisfaction. It went without needing to be said out loud that they both wanted to keep this from the teens.

The two walked out of the room together, his soulmate sliding the door closed behind them as the elder man waited for him to catch up.

Side by side, they walked back over to where the ceremony would soon be taking place.

Not once the whole way did Zhou Zishu keep his eyes away from the other’s face.

The wedding had been quite the affair, full of laughter and tears. Lao Wen had insisted that Zhou Zishu sit by his side, citing the older man’s pale complexion. The male himself hadn’t noticed his own faltering, too overwhelmed by everything that had happened today to realize how his injury had affected him.

It had been a breathtaking ceremony. The two teens had chosen to bow to the two of them and the two female ghosts in lieu of their biological parents, an honor the former assassin could barely bring himself to accept.

After everything was said and done, the newly wedded couple had decided to forego any further ceremony and shuffled back to Saijun Mansion for a celebratory dinner with everyone. Lao Wen had gotten a break from cooking, a few of the female servants had put their all into creating an impressive spread for their fellow sister-in-arms. Gu Xiang was close to a number of the girls, this meal was their way to show their own joy at the new matrimonial bond.

Seated between Chengling and the grudgingly happy Valley Master, Zhou Zishu felt a wave of relief wash over him.

He had done it. He had managed to stop the tragedy of their original timeline from taking place, saving the lives of more people here than would have lived otherwise. If being able to see his group of companions again hadn’t been enough to make his journey to the past worthwhile, this success did that and more.

Now these two young lives would have a chance to find a future. Scorpion hadn’t deigned to appear this time, likely pilfering the pieces of the glazed armor from the corpse the former head of the Window of Heaven had specifically left out for him to find. Without the need to enter Qingya Mountain, there had been no reason for the other head of an assassination group to confront the Valley Master. Lao Wen hadn’t been injured, and Ye-qianbei had yet to appear and reveal the truth of Zhou Zish’s condition. In fact, no one had yet to know by this point.

If things kept going as the time traveler wanted them to, no one would find out.

The joyful faces around him only fueled the man’s confidence in his decision, knowing the news of his impending death in a mere few days would do nothing but ruin the fragile happiness those he cared for had finally reached after struggling for years on end. It would be cruel of him to announce it now, and a selfish part of him didn’t want to in the first place.

Zhou Zishu had never changed his opinion from the beginning. While it would have been nice to live out a long life with his soulmate, the dying man had no qualms about meeting death. He was long overdue by this point, his soul decades older than it had ever had any right to be.

Lao Wen would be hurt, he was sure, but the other had everyone around him as a support system this time around. It wouldn’t be right to leave Chengling and A-Xiang without either of them, and after experiencing years on end alone with only the frozen body of his soulmate for company, Zhou Zishu felt it was his turn to wait by the Naihe Bridge.

It would be nice to be able to rest, knowing he had managed to save all of their futures.

The din of conversation quickly began to overtake the room, a comforting buzz that the former immortal had been missing for those years he had been alone. It seemed like their little group could never be quiet for too long, with such an array of personalities it was more shocking when they were quiet for a period of time.

Looking up from his previously empty plate, the surface somehow now piled high with meats and vegetables, the Four Seasons Manor Lord turned his attention to the laughing man next to him. The taller martial artist seemed to be having a conversation with Beiyuan, something Zhou Zishu might dread in any other circumstance. For now, though, he could only drink in the sight of the other once more.

Lao Wen was talking. Lao Wen was breathing. Lao Wen was laughing, his face lit up with a smile the injured man had thought he would never get the chance to see again.

If he were to speak the truth, to pull his shidi aside to another room and reveal his own untimely doom, it would ruin everything. This was the happiest time of his love’s life, he knew that; it was the part the younger had been waiting forever for, with his revenge finished, his little girl married off to a man he could just barely approve of, and his soulmate by his side. Seemingly to be cured. Nothing could go wrong, nothing could possibly be wrong now that everything was done and solved. All that remained in his eyes must be for the two of them to go off, to create grave stones for the Zhen couple, find a peasant house, and live their days out peacefully together.

No, Zhou Zishu could not break this happiness.

He could not let the truth be known.

He could never let Lao Wen know of the other future that had just avoided coming to pass, never let him know that there was no acceptable cure for the former assassin’s injuries. Could never let him know it was already too late.

Even if Zhou Zishu were to die, this future was still better than the last in every possible way. If this was the price that must be paid for the others to live on, even if Lao Wen would be pained by his death, then it was a price the man was more than willing to pay. Perhaps it might even give him good karma for the afterlife, shortening his time in the boiling pot by a few years.

They all deserved this contentment. After the endless struggles all of them had faced, the suffering, pain, and death, this was what they deserved--a full table, food covering everything available surface, laughter and smiles all around.

Zhou Zishu had never thought himself worthy of a happy ending, from the moment he had thrust the first of the nails into his chest the most he had wished for was to see a few sights before meeting his punishment in the Underworld.

A good person could be forgiven, he had told Lao Wen this, but the former head of the Window of Heaven had never once considered himself a good person. Despite whatever illusions his shidi held about his character, the man himself knew he was irredeemable. He could spit out words towards his soulmate, telling him not to kill, to do good, to move on, and be better, but Zhou Zishu knew he himself had already passed the point of no return.

All of these people around him, each and every single one of them--those were good people. He wasn’t like them. The selfish cruelty within him emanated from his very core, doing nothing but poisoning those around him. From the moment he had taken up the mantle of the Window of Heaven, Zhou Zishu had known it was too late for him. When he remained the only member of the Four Seasons Manor left alive, he had known he could never be forgiven.

A coward who ran away.

Scum.

He was nothing better than that.

Despite everything, despite knowing he would hurt them all, despite knowing he did nothing but harm those around him, Zhou Zishu made a selfish choice once again. He wouldn’t run off his time to die alone. He would stay here, would stay by his soulmate’s side, snug in this little place in the world he had managed to carve out for himself until he died. He would wake up in the morning and see his beloved alive, would eat with their small family, would go walk through the gardens and laze around while watching his best friend cook. He would teach his disciple for as long as he could, would watch the new couple fumble around each other, would avoid Wu Xi’s quick hands and Beiyuan’s concerned looks.

He would die, but he would die happy.

When the time finally came a few days from now, he would lie down, knowing he wouldn’t wake up in the morning. He would leave his last words for each of them, disguised as casual comments the day before. His sword could go to Chengling, everything else to Lao Wen. They would be upset when they realized he was gone, hopefully his confidant would be the one to find his body, be allowed enough time in the morning to sit and grieve before the others awoke.

Lao Wen might not forgive him, but Zhou Zishu wouldn’t forgive himself if things were any other way. He could never stand to experience a future as he had before. He would be waiting at the Naihe Bridge for his soulmate to come down, hopefully wizened and grey, meet his anger head on and accept any harsh words thrown in anger.

But first, he had to make sure Ye Baiyi would not reveal his secret this time.

Luckily, it seemed the man had heard there was a large amount of food to be found at the mansion, flying down and through the door without so much as a greeting. Ignoring the greeting of “Ye-qianbei!” he received, the immortal took an open seat and began to pile his plate high.

“Old Monster,” Wen Kexing shifted his attention away from his previous conversation with the runaway Prince, giving the man gorging himself an incredulous look, “Who invited you?” though the words lacked the scorn they had once held. It seemed working together had softened the bristles between the pair to some degree.

Without looking up from his food, the elder replied, “Do I need an invitation? It was laughably easy to get in. You’re lucky I let you go already, brat, the least you can do is feed me,” half of the dishes surrounding him already almost completely emptied. It seemed as though he had guessed at what had occurred outside the gates of the Ghost Valley, making no mention of the bodies left for Scorpion to find. Was it possible he had come to stick around in case the still-waiting members of the failed ambush came to attack?

It was difficult for the Ghost Valley Master to argue against this, merely letting out a sigh, “A-Xu, we’ll have to make sure never to invite the old toad to our home in the future or he’ll eat us out of house and home,” the words half in jest, though knowing what he knew now, Zhou Zishu doubted the immortal would have made it to that point in time even if he himself were to live on.

With a small smile, he admonished lightly, “Lao Wen, Ye-qianbei, can you two not behave yourselves even at this moment?” lifting up his small cup to drink. No one seemed to notice he had poured alcohol into the cup despite explicitly being told not to--there seemed to be a habit of the others becoming too distracted during group meals to realize he broke this rule every single time since it had been thrust upon him.

This time the cultivator sitting across from the pair looked up, a clear shot at the man beside his ex-assassin on his tongue before he paused, gaze stopping on Zhou Zishu. Lowering his chopsticks, he narrowed his eyes, “Qin Huaizang’s idiot disciple, you--”

“Ye-qianbei, there’s something I’d like to speak with you about. Would you mind coming with me to another room to speak in private?” the younger man quickly cut in, shooting his soulmate a look. If he could play this off as trying to get the elder martial artist to calm down with the bickering, Lao Wen wouldn’t suspect anything.

Catching the intended meaning, and how the Manor Lord hated lying to his best friend, the taller gave a subtle nod and encouraged, “Go, go, we don’t want A-Xiang’s wedding banquet to disappear before any of the rest of us can finish eating,” dismissing the pair.

Ye Baiyi looked at the two for a moment, as though gauging something, before letting out a sigh and putting his utensils down. Placing his hands on his legs, he sighed for a moment before standing up, white cloth flying, “Fine. Lead the way,” inclining his head towards the door behind them.

With a pat to his soulmate’s shoulder, Zhou Zishu stood up, catching himself on the other for a moment before straightening up. He really had underestimated the effects of blood loss, to still have it be affecting him from such a meager wound. There were probably a few pieces of medicine left in his things, he’d have to go take one after they all retired for the night. It wouldn’t do to spend his last few days stumbling around.

Leading the way, the time traveler brought the other man into a room far enough away from the others that none of them should be able to hear the discussion, if the loud noise of the room they were eating in wasn’t enough itself.

The immortal walked in first, Zhou Zishu following after, sliding the door closed. It looked to be a small unused side room, not much inside aside a table and a few scrolls thrown here and there.

Turning around, the dying man found himself faced with a grave expression, his senior reaching out to grab his wrist before he could even move. Not that he tried to prevent it. The former immortal knew that Ye Baiyi had already been able to get a gist of his current situation from a glance alone.

After a moment of silence, the other let go, looking at him as though he were the biggest fool in the world, “You stupid boy, what have you done to yourself? After all that trouble I went through to find the Shaman that you apparently already knew,” tone harsh with what he would likely never admit to being concern.

It was impossible to explain the situation without having the other take him for a fool. Still, if there were anyone he would confess the entire reality of the situation to, it was the person standing in front of him, “I took out the nails when I thought Lao Wen had died. I wanted to be at my full power to be able to get revenge for him,” remembering that horrible day so long ago now. Or perhaps, for this body, only a day or two ago.

“Revenge,” the elder laughed in disbelief at the word, “The two of you fools are too obsessed with that. To throw your life away for it,” then paused, as though thinking of something.

Knowing the other had realized his other reason, Zhou Zishu spoke them aloud, “I also thought there was no reason to live anymore. I had planned to die in the first place, the only reason I agreed to the treatment was so I could be with him. To continue living on in a world where I was meant to die while the one I loved was gone didn’t seem worth it,” a truth, in more ways than one, that he hoped to never reveal to his best friend waiting for them in the other room.

Ye Baiyi stood silently, expression twisting as he waved his fist in the air in thought. Turning around, he walked a few steps towards one of the windows streaming light into the room, pacing in thought. The shorter of the pair considered speaking again, unwilling to bear with such a long silence, when the man spun back around suddenly on his heel, “Alright. I owe you. It’s partially my fault for leaving you alone after your first little suicide attempt. Stay here, I’ll go get a solution. I knew about it before, but I wanted to leave it as a last resort,” throwing his sleeves, already making his way back towards the door.

“If it’s the Combined Six Cultivation Power, I’d rather you didn’t,” the younger man’s voice caused the cultivator to pause, stopping in his trek towards the exit.

Giving the other a sharp look, Ye Baiyi questioned, “How do you know about that?” suspicion coating his voice.

This was the moment of truth. Gathering his courage and hoping the elder man would believe him, Zhou Zishu began, “Because you helped Lao Wen to use it last time, and he died. I don’t know if something went wrong, but I ended up alone trapped in the armory as an immortal,” his eyes staring straight into darker ones. With everything he had, the time traveler wanted to show his sincerity. If Ye-qianbei didn’t believe him, it would cause more problems than he wanted to handle right now. He had to convince the other man not to tell Lao Wen.

Now turned completely back around, the immortal cultivator stared at him searchingly, “You...Are you telling me you somehow traveled back in time from a future where that happened?”

Zhou Zishu walked closer to the other, continuing, “I did. Ye-qianbei, you probably know this, but there’s a forbidden technique hidden within the armory. I found it and cultivated myself until I was able to use it to come back to this day,” never once showing a sign he was making a joke.

The elder martial artist looked straight into his eyes, as though searching for something, before turning to the side with a huff, “You wouldn’t know that unless you had really been there. You’re supposed to be the smarter one of your little pair, how could you be so stupid to mess with forbidden techniques,” raising his head in judgement.

“Living alone up there was unbearable. I wanted to come back and see if I could fix things.”

For a moment, the other man remained silent, as though digesting the words. With a sigh this time, he nodded, “...I can’t say I don’t understand. I was tempted myself in the past,” the sudden admittance a shock to the former immortal, “Alright. Fine. But what do you plan to do then? I don’t know of any other possible way to save you,” Ye Baiyi now back to facing Zhou Zishu.

With his most serious expression, the Four Seasons Manor Lord pleaded, “Ye-qianbei, all I ask is that you keep this a secret. All of it. From all of them, but especially from Lao Wen,” every hope against hope in his chest pleading for the elder to agree. He knew Ye-qianbei wouldn’t like it, but it was truly all he wanted now.

There was another long silence. It was obvious the immortal was not a fan of this request, though it was difficult for him to argue against it given the circumstances. After a while, he spoke up, “That brat will be destroyed without you. You know what it’s like to live without the person you love still in this world. He’ll try to follow you when you do go, just like you did before during his little plan,” a truth to those words that Zhou Zishu had wished to ignore more than anything else.

With a sigh, the shorter man turned his head to gaze out the window, vision looking at something far and beyond as he replied, “I know. But this time he has Chengling and A-Xiang. He needs to live on for them. Even if I die, it won’t be too long until we meet again in the Underworld. Compared to an immortal existence alone, it’s much more bearable,” knowing the cultivator would be able to understand.

Periods of quiet seemed to dot every few lines of their conversation. Ye Baiyi was obviously hit by his words, wanting to refute them but knowing he couldn’t entirely do so. If anyone could understand what Zhou Zishu had gone through, this man would be the only one. A lonely existence. A cold eternity. It was a worse punishment than anything any of the Kings of the Underworld could hope to come up with.

“I should never have left you alone after you jumped,” Ye Baiyi cursed himself, pacing once more. Closing his eyes, he let out a deep breath, turning to face the other fully again, “Fine. I won’t tell any of them, but I will go search for another solution, even if you don’t want me to. No one dies on my watch,” his tone accusatory, as though blaming Zhou Zishu for possibly breaking that vow of his. To be fair, if anyone were to be blamed for it, the ex-assassin would be it.

A shaky sigh of relief left the other, the man quickly bowing his thanks, “Thank you, Ye-qianbei. I plan to stay here with Lao Wen for the next three days I have left, though there is a detour I’m going to make for a shichen or two after the banquet is finished,” thinking back to the avalanche that had taken out Scorpion and Duan Pengju. If he could, he’d like to replicate that situation and get rid of all of them. Once Scorpion knew the key he had been given was fake, he would make his way here, the Window of Heaven doubtlessly behind him.

Zhou Zishu couldn’t allow that to happen.

With a nod, the other replied, “Good. Don’t go anywhere else. I’ll be back as quickly as I can. Tell your idiot that I’m taking my leave. If we want to have any hope of finding something in time, I have to go now,” already walking out the door.

Following behind him, the younger once again expressed his thanks, watching the man turn the opposite way and walk down the hallway to the entrance. Without another word, the former head of the Window of Heaven turned and walked back to the dinner party, an excuse already formulated in his mind.

The door opened with ease, the same comfortable atmosphere just as loud and warm as when he had left it.

“A-Xu! Where did that old monster go?” his shidi asked, holding his two chopsticks up in the air.

With a huff, the man’s expression melted into a smile, returning to his seat, “He said he had something he had to do. Has the young bride insulted anyone too badly yet?” he asked, sitting down once more.

At his other side, Chengling shook his head, “Xiang-jiejie has been too happy to insult anyone,” a smile crossing his own features.

Lao Wen clearly couldn’t contain his own grin, nudging at Zhou Zishu’s plate, “With that old toad gone, we won’t have to worry about running out of food. Come on A-Xu, eat! Eat! You haven’t touched a single piece yet,” a hint of worry found within the tease.

Not wanting to cause the other any concern, the elder acquiesced, picking up his own utensils, “Alright, alright. Are you my servant or my pushy wife?” he joked, picking up one of the pieces of pork on his still untouched plate.

“A-Xu, I am more than happy to be both and more,” the taller male drawled, concern quickly transforming back into his old flirtatious nature.

Dinner went on for the rest of the night with little to no trouble. Or, if there were any trouble, it was no more than usual. By the time everyone was ready to retire for an early evening, Zhou Zishu had made his way out towards the entrance, knowing time was of the essence if he wanted to make it to the armory and accomplish what needed to be done.

He had sent Lao Wen to bed with a promise of joining him soon, claiming the need to go check up on something for a bit. Drunk as he was, the other man had agreed with a whine begging for his swift return, hugging the shorter man’s waist once more in a facsimile of the previous evening before falling asleep. Just as he had that night the day before, Zhou Zishu tucked the younger one into bed.

Walking out the doors, the former immortal moved to make his way towards the pathway leading to the frozen mountains when a voice behind him stopped him in his tracks.

“Zishu, where are you going?”

Beiyuan. Of course, how could he have possibly forgotten just how perceptive his old friend was? If there were anyone left awake who would be able to find out that the injured man was planning to go out somewhere right now, it was Lord Seventh.

With a sigh, half-good-natured half-truly exasperated, the martial artist turned towards his old comrade with something akin to a smile, “Beiyuan. Did you need something?”

In an instant the other had walked closer, now barely even a chi or so away from him, “Do you think your deflection will work on me? We’ve known each other too long for that,” all-too familiar with the tactics of a man he considered one of his closest friends.

There was a truth to that. The two of them had been the ones most involved with Prince Jin in their youth, plotting and planning together among the noblemen of the court. Zhou Zishu had been the one to hide the Prince of Nan’ning’s escape, keeping his new location and secret survival from their superior. Aside from Lao Wen, Beiyuan was indeed the person still left alive that the former assassin would be able to consider a close friend.

Looking down for a moment, the male replied, “I’m just going to go take care of something. I should be back in a shichen or two, there’s no reason to worry,” doing his best to sound convincing. It wasn’t necessarily a lie, he was merely omitting some details.

“Zishu, do you think I don’t know you? You can tell me the truth, among everyone back during our youth, the two of us could always trust in and rely on each other,” the nobleman persuaded, clearly unwilling to drop the subject.

This was a problem. Beiyuan was usually a fairly laid back and eccentric person, but when it came to certain things he truly was determined to see through, it would be almost impossible to stop him.

Just as Zhou Zishu was formulating a response, he felt someone grab at his wrist, taking his pulse before he could even react. Given that there remained only one person around who was sober enough to be able to overpower him at his current level, he knew that he had been duped once again.

Wu Xi stood at his side, expression twisted as he pulled his hand back as the other shook him off, looking at the former leader of the Window of Heaven with a mixture of horror and reproach, “Manor Lord Zhou, you pulled out the nails?”

Stricken by the news, Beiyuan questioned, “Zishu, how could you do that to yourself? You...When did you do such a thing?” looking somehow even more affected than he had in the previous timeline.

It seemed as though some things would never be able to be changed. This conversation was almost word-to-word identical to the one in the time traveler’s memories. At least this time Chengling wasn’t around to hear the harsh truth. With a huff of mock-laughter, the exposed liar replied with all-too familiar words, “Before the Heroes Conference. I wanted to recover all of my power to get revenge for him,” no need to specify who said “him” was. They all knew immediately.

Turning to face his husband, Lord Seventh questioned, “Wu Xi, is there any other way? Zishu’s health looks to be better than before, is there no treatment he would now be able to withstand that you hadn’t considered earlier?” unable to stand the idea of losing the one friend he had kept in contact with.

Wu Xi seemed to be frantically thinking, as though searching for some miracle cure he may have forgotten. It was nice to know his friends cared so much for him, a selfish part of Zhou Zishu couldn’t help to think, but he wasn’t looking to be saved this time around.

Shaking his head in answer, the Manor Lord answered for the other, “Even if the head of the Healer’s Valley were still around, it would be impossible. Beiyuan, it’s alright. I’ve been preparing for this day for a long time now. I want to live out the rest of my days here with you all, the medicine Wu Xi made should keep me alive for another two or three days, but first, there’s something I have to do,” turning his gaze back towards the path he had been planning to take earlier.

His friends both seemed to quiet at his words, Lord Seventh the one to break the silence, “I’ll respect your decision, Zishu. Even if I don’t like it,” he sighed, as though recalling old memories from long ago, “To have him spare not even you, Prince Jin’s cruelty knows no bounds…”

“What is it you need to do?” Wu Xi questioned, latching onto that particular part of the elder man’s response. It seemed even now he was concerned about how much qi the injured martial artist would use, even though it truly didn’t matter anymore.

Seeing no harm in telling them, Zhou Zishu explained, “I have to go stop Prince Jin and the Scorpions from opening the armory. They don’t have the real key so they won’t be able to either way, but I need to take the chance to get rid of them now before they realize the true key is still here with us and come for it,” thinking of said item still resting on his head. To think Lao Wen had given him the key so long ago and he had never noticed until it had been revealed to him, his observational skills had become too lax in his retirement.

No one spoke for a moment, each of them digesting the information that had just been revealed for the first time to anyone other than Ye Baiyi. Unsurprisingly, it was Beiyuan who broke the silence. Surprisingly, his response was, “So, where are we going?”

Zhou Zishu gave the other an incredulous look, “‘We’?” he repeated, as though barely able to comprehend what he had just heard.

Nodding, the other man replied, “Of course, do you think I would let you go off on your own like that? If you don’t return, I would have to be the one to break the news of your death to your dear shidi and child,” nudging the person next to him. Not to mention it would be quite the sight to see the Prince they had all longed to escape from finally meet his end.

The Great Shaman knew better than to try and talk his husband out of going along on this trip by now. When Jing Beiyuan put his mind on doing something, it was impossible to stop him. With a slight nod to their old friend, he added on, “I can monitor your health if we go. Even with the medicine, who’s to say complications won’t arise from an excess use of qi,” and because someone needed to keep an eye on the former Prince insistent on going.

Knowing just as well how useless it was to argue, Zhou Zishu let out a sigh before nodding, “Alright, good. Then first we have to stop somewhere along the way,” it would be best if he could recreate the avalanche with some of the explosives he had stashed away in the safe house he had put his first disguise on in.

The three of them stood high above where the man had himself stood waiting to die the last time around. Below them, the various groups vying for the contents of the armory stood in front of its frozen doors with greedy excitement, palpable even at such a distance. Wu Xi and Zhou Zishu had brought Beiyuan to one of the smaller cliff sides, the trio just far enough away to remain undetectable from any of the cultivators down below. They were, of course, out of range from any possible collateral damage the explosives they had set up might cause.

Duan Pengju appeared with the rest of the Window of Heaven, the Scorpion and his ensemble along with them. Surprisingly, it seemed as though the members of the pugilist world who had never appeared in their failed ambush were now here instead, proving their true goal all along had never been to wipe out the “evil” in the world.

It was impossible to hear what was going on down there, though the former assassin didn’t doubt it was more or less unchanged from the original timeline.

“Is Prince Jin down there?” Beiyuan asked, moving his head this way and that, as though it would somehow help him to see better.

Wu Xi shook his head, “He’s not, unfortunately,” his skills the highest among the trio, most able to tell who was and who was not among those gathered underneath them.

Zhou Zishu had known the Prince wouldn’t be there of course, he hadn’t been there the first time, there was no reason to think he would this time. Either way, what mattered was that with the snowslide this time, the doorway to the armory would be buried for years to come.

Then again, given what they had found in the armory, perhaps it didn’t even matter.

It wasn’t long before the explosions went off, rocking the mountainsides surrounding those within the small valley. They all looked shocked at the sudden barrage, moving too slowly to ever hope of being able to escape with their lives.

While Zhou Zishu couldn’t hear what any of them were saying, it was an incredible sight to see. All of those who had threatened his life and the lives of those he cared for, all of the self-righteous hypocrites of the jianghu, the Scorpion, Zhao Jing, Duan Pengju who had taken such glee in his torture, that armory that had caused all of their troubles in the first place--

In an instant, they were all buried underneath a silent pure white expanse.

The three of them continued to stand there for a moment, as though making sure no one would suddenly pop out of the snow, still alive and raring to fight. It was impossible to know just how long they remained there, not a single one of them speaking a word. Even Beiyuan, who usually had a comment to make or bullshit wisdom to spout, remained quiet.

After a while, Zhou Zishu was the one to break the silence, turning on his heel, “We should get back, I don’t want Lao Wen or Chengling coming to find me and realize that I’m missing,” choosing not to comment on what had just occurred. There were so many words that could be spoken, too many, that it was impossible to speak a single one.

“Am I correct in thinking you want no one else to know of your current condition?” Wu Xi asked, turning along with him, seeming to have no problem moving on from what they had just witnessed.

The elder man gave a nod, already beginning his walk back down the mountain. If he never had to come here again in any lifetime, he could be happy no matter what he must endure, “I want these last few days to be happy. If Lao Wen and the others knew, they would insist on trying to use the time to find a cure. You could say it’s my last selfish wish,” he spoke, eyes downcast.

Lord Seventh walked up next to him, doing his best to keep pace, “If that’s what you wish for Zishu, we will respect it. I just hope you won’t come to regret this later when you two meet again by the boulder near Naihe Bridge,” a strange sense in his words. As though he knew exactly what the Underworld was like.

Beiyuan had always had something odd about him.

“He can be angry with me then, for now, I’d like him to remain as happy as he can,” the dying man replied.

And that was that.

Later that evening found the trio back at the mansion, countless jugs of alcohol littering the floor of the Southern couple’s room. They had decided to take the evening to drink and reminisce on their memories, catching up on lost time that could never be made back. It hadn’t taken long for Wu Xi to get drunk, his tolerance still much lower than that of the other two who were more accustomed to drinking.

“Zishu...I’ve always wanted to apologize to you,” Beiyuan murmured, clearly tipsy, sitting beside his passed out husband.

Still completely sober, the former head of the Window of Heaven questioned, “Apologize for what?” trying to think back to any incident the other man might feel the need to express regret over. The two of them had conducted most of the dirty deeds Prince Jin had needed to bolster his position under the Emperor, with the younger man planning them and Zhou Zishu putting them into action. Among the two of them, neither had ever once blamed the other for any single moment.

With a sigh, Lord Seventh looked to the matted flooring, “If I hadn’t met Jiuxiao in this lifetime…” trailing off for a moment, before catching himself and continuing the thought, “If I hadn’t, he wouldn’t have…”

The name Jiuxiao still managed to make the time traveler freeze for a moment, even when he hadn’t seen the other for years upon years. Breaking himself away from the automatic reaction, Zhou Zishu let out a small laugh of disbelief, “Beiyuan, of all the things we’ve caused, you choose to blame yourself for one you had no hand in? Don’t speak such nonsense,” shaking his head at the idea.

There was no reason for his friend to blame himself for Jiuxiao’s death, the other had absolutely nothing to do with it. Zhou Zishu would know.

“No, I...this lifetime, I…” the other continued, unable to finish his sentence before passing out himself, limbs entangled with those of his partner’s.

Shaking his head once more, both at the ridiculous admission of guilt and at the sight before him, the former assassin put down the cup he had been drinking and stood up. It took a lot more to get him even slightly drunk when compared to the average person, Beiyuan had a fairly good tolerance himself, but they had been drinking fairly high quality wine.

Walking over to the bed that would likely remain cold tonight, Zhou Zishu picked up the blanket laying across it and threw it over the sleeping pair. He stood for a moment, watching them, before blowing out the light and walking back down the hallway.

The room he shared with his own partner was still quiet, the only light coming from the moonbeams streaming through the side window. Wen Kexing remained tucked into the bed, clearly having moved not even the tiniest bit in his sleep. Good. That meant the other hadn’t woken up while he was gone.

Unable to control himself, the time traveler walked over to the bed and kneeled down, sitting by the sleeping man’s side. For a while he only stared at the other, as though doing his best to drink in every detail he could. Lao Wen looked peaceful in his sleep, more so than Zhou Zishu could remember having ever seen him before. The steady rise and fall of his chest was a mesmerizing sight, one the former immortal had been dreaming of seeing once more every day while trapped undying and alone.

Perhaps, if he looked long enough, the corpse haunting decades of his memories could be replaced with this happy, healthy version of his love.

Once again the time traveler couldn’t help but to marvel at everything that had occurred. So much had changed for the better this time around, he was almost afraid he would suddenly wake up and find himself back there in the armory once more, scrolls and bound books scattered around him.

Before he could even realize it, Zhou Zishu had reached one hand forward, gently brushing some of the wonderfully brown hair out of his soulmate’s face. Pulling his hand back quickly, the man held his breath, as though waiting for the illusion before him to shatter into pieces of ice and snow.

An indeterminable amount of time passed in silence, the former immortal finally letting out a breath once he determined the man in front of him wasn’t going to suddenly disappear.

Emboldened, the dying Manor Lord reached forward under the covers, grasping lightly at the other’s hand. He had learned long ago that, while Lao Wen was not a deep sleeper, he was comfortable enough around his confidant to remain within the throes of his dreams even when his confidant held his hand.

Sitting there in Wen Kexing’s room, the moonlight flowing across the floor in waves, Zhou Zishu quietly indulged in the warmth held within his grasp. He would make sure to keep hold of this hand this time around, never letting it slip through his fingers up until the very end.

Morning came before the man knew it. When the object of his affections began to stir, Zhou Zishu had remained seated where he was, foregoing his knee-jerk reaction to stand up and keep this night of tenderness an embarrassing secret known only to the corners of his own mind. Brown eyes blinked open slowly, coming to meet the other’s waiting gaze.

“A-Xu...to think the day would come that I would be blessed with waking to your beautiful face as the first thing I see,” the sleepy comment a jab at how the elder man tended to wake up late mixed with the flirtation that had become more and more sincere throughout their time together.

With a huff of amusement, the Manor Lord squeezed the hand in his grasp lightly, “Get up. I want to go into town today,” his sharp features softened as he sat, nestled between the sunlight pouring into the room.

The taller man gave a small laugh at that, a smile breaking across his face, “Yes, yes, as my Lord commands,” slowly moving to sit up from his finished rest. Wen Kexing gave the hand in his grasp a light squeeze of his own, pure contentment radiating from his every pore.

It was this exact reason that Zhou Zishu knew he could not tell his shidi the truth. To break this hard-fought for happiness, to shatter the peace and joy that his best friend had worked through decades of agony for was impossible. If he were to cause this brilliant smile to break with his harsh reality, his soul would never be able to make it to the Underworld peacefully.

“You’re paying this time, I think my funds have almost completely run out with how you keep stealing my sachet,” the former assassin stood up, letting his hand linger for a moment longer than he usually would in that long-missed warmth before slipping it back to his side.

Laughing once more, his seated companion replied, “A-Xu, do you think this Wen has endless funds? Did I not just prepare a large dowry the night before? Still, I suppose if my dear shixiong requests it, this shidi cannot refuse,” as though he were being bullied by his senior into giving him money. Among the two of them, who had finagled more money out of whom, exactly?

Almost rolling his eyes at the words, Zhou Zishu gave a smile and made his way towards the door, “I’ll be waiting for you by the entrance, don’t take too long to get ready,” foregoing his desire to offer his services to brush the other’s hair. The man himself had yet to prepare for the new day, still in his clothing from last night. Once outside the closed door, he lifted the sleeve of his robe to smell, finding the all-too familiar scent of alcohol staining his clothing. Well, it would be best to change out of these robes either way, they were a bit too nice to be wandering around a marketplace in.

A difficult change of bloodied bandages--thankfully the wound had stopped bleeding at some point the night previous despite his lack of rest--and a new pair of white and light-blue colored robes later found the former assassin walking to the courtyard of the manor. The new couple seemed to have decided they wanted to spend their first full day of marriage together in one of the covered pavilions, the pair sitting with tea and dried fruits between them.

It was an odd but pleasant sight to see, the girl who usually bounced around spitting out harsh words smiling at the man she loved seated across from her. To see the two of them alive and well, happily conversing, lifted off something from Zhou Zishu’s chest he hadn’t realized was there before. Of course, just as he thought this, A-Xiang reached out and punched Weining in the arm, scowling at something the boy had said.

Shaking his head with a small smile, the time traveler walked over to the entryway, coming up to meet his waiting partner.

“A-Xu, weren’t you supposed to be waiting for me? Why is it that I arrived here first--it couldn’t be you had gone to visit someone else while I was getting ready, could it?” the other teased as he reached his soulmate’s side. The younger man wore a weimao this time, a necessity now that his identity had recently been revealed to the entire jianghu.

Barely resisting an eye roll, the shorter martial artist replied, “I had to change. Shall we go?” inclining his head towards the pathway down into town.

The two began their short walk to the busy marketplace, Wen Kexing’s light expression turning into one of concern, “How is your wound? Do you need help fixing the bandages?”

Waving away the concern, the injured man shook his head, “They’re fine, no need to worry. Look, there’s the market up ahead,” gesturing towards the crowded street not three chi from them.

It was a completely different experience to stand in the market with his senses fully restored. The streets were much louder than Zhou Zishu remembered them to be, almost to the point of being overwhelming to him. After spending years in the quiet with only your own voice to be heard, the recent stimulus he had received was beginning to seem almost too much.

The smells were just as distracting, sweets, savory, spicy, sour--there were so many scents that the man had all-but forgotten, congregated in one small space. Yesterday’s dinner had brought about smells of its own, but nothing to the extent of the wafting aromas mixed with the scent of human sweat coating every cobblestone.

Just as the last time they had the chance to leisurely walk around the market, Lao Wen had taken it upon himself to dart from one stall to the next, buying any and every food that caught his eye. The other raced ahead, excited as a child, buying fruit and soup, candies and meat sticks, each one bought in pairs, one gifted to his soulmate while the other disappeared into his own stomach.

Watching the other man with amusement, Zhou Zishu nibbled on the treats handed off to him here and there, finding the over-flavored tastes of street food just as difficult to handle as the smell. The food was good, the piquancy undoubtedly delicious, but he could only get a few bites in before giving the rest back to his companion.

His shidi didn’t seem to find this behavior unusual, given how little the dying man had been eating since their re-acquaintance, it wasn’t too concerning or unusual a thing.

Watching his beloved scurry around happily, darting between the throes of people, was an indescribably comforting view for the time traveler. Every moment he spent with his family seemed to hit him harder than the last, their voices and movements knocking the breath out of him every time he witnessed them.

It was as Wen Kexing was distracted, talking to one of the vendors selling some sort of sweet soup, that Zhou Zishu’s eye caught on one of the stalls selling trinkets and goods. It was a fairly small setup, a lone elderly woman standing behind the table with no customers around. There were various hair sticks and clasps scattered across the surface of the stand, some simple, some more complex.

Pausing in front of the stall, the former assassin looked at the lines of wares, one in particular drawing his attention. It was a silver hair stick, the end fashioned to look as though it were surrounded by flowing clouds, a gold-colored chain hanging down with light blue and white flowers suspended at the ends. Thinking on it, Lao Wen had given Zhou Zishu the armory key--which had been disguised as the hair stick the other had been using since childhood.

Without even thinking about it, the former assassin bought the accessory and hid it in one of his sachets, realizing only as he walked away what he had just done. Would this be alright? Would it be cruel? To give this gift to his soulmate, this first and final one, to remember him by? Would Lao Wen want to even keep it, after finding out what Zhou Zishu had been hiding from him?

The rest of the day passed without incident, Wen Kexing pulling the other man around the market all day despite Zhou Zishu being the one who wanted to come in the first place. It was only by nightfall that the Valley Master decided it was time to go back and rest, the pair walking side by side under the increasingly darkening sky. No one seemed surprised by their trip out and subsequent return, greeted with knowing looks from the teens and a different sort of knowing looks from Beiyuan and the Shaman.

The hair stick remained hidden within the Manor Lord’s bag, later inside a drawer in his room. Staring down at his hand resting on the surface of the drawer, Zhou Zishu let out a deep breath.

Two more days.

Day two of his last three found the Manor Lord once again meeting his soulmate early in the morning, this time the other man the one with a request for a trip out.

“A-Xu, would you come with me to look for that house today?” Lao Wen had come to his room with eyes downcast, one hand on the sliding door, referring back to their conversation two nights previous.

Immediately realizing what was being asked of him, Zhou Zishu walked forward, grabbing the other’s dangling hand in an uncharacteristically bold move, “Mm, let’s go. I already promised you I would escort you,” two pairs of eyes staring into each other.

After a moment, the taller of the duo gave a small smile, looking back down and towards the side for a beat before looking back up.

The two left without informing anyone of their departure, seeing no point in doing so after realizing no one ever seemed shocked by their trip out alone yesterday. Their first stop was to the market once more, the taller of the two stopping to pick up something he had ordered there the day before. Even without needing to look, Zhou Zishu knew what it was. From there they followed Wen Kexing’s memory, the past that had been seared into his brain giving them a fairly clear picture of where their destination might be.

It was back by Mount Qinya, a few li or so away from the gates, that they had found it. The home was miraculously still standing, albeit only barely. Wood and straw lay half-rotten, the building looking as though it might last only another year or so at most before finally collapsing into an eternal rest.

There was an odd sort of kinship there, between the building and himself, Zhou Zishu found.

It had been over twenty years since the Zhen couple had been killed here, it would be unreasonable to expect any signs of their remains to be found. All things considered, it was more than likely their bodies had been picked clean by scavengers, bones scattered to who knows where. He and Lao Wen were more than aware of this.

They both looked at the spot without saying anything for a moment, the elder waiting for his companion to move first. Wen Kexing took the two engraved markers he had commissioned, the name of his father on one, his mother on the other. Making a rough approximation, he drove the stones into the ground one-by-one, taking a step back once he felt they were secure. More than prepared for this moment, the younger man placed two candles on each with incense burners in-between, small plates of fruit alongside them. Yesterday had been more than just wandering around having fun, the other had been making sure he had everything ready to give his parents a proper grave as well.

Zhou Zishu stood quietly, watching as his partner bowed thrice and lit the incense sticks. They had no paper money to burn, but at the very least, there was always alcohol to be found. Having quickly poured out wine from a flask pulled from his sleeve, Wen Kexing stepped back once more, kowtowing to the empty space before the home that must have been where his parents' bodies had lay. The other man seemed on the verge of tears, reporting to the two long-gone spirits of what he had managed to accomplish. Of his revenge, of Zhao Jing’s fall from grace, of the new future he had to look forward to.

“Mother, Father...I’ve managed to get revenge for you at long last. I’m sorry it took so long, this unworthy son of yours has been unfilial, but I’ve finally brought a gravemarker for you today. Zhao Jing fell in front of the entire jianghu, there’s no one who does not know of what he’s done. I know you must be smiling at me now, you and shifu, and everyone else who fell for that evil man’s greed,” the words seemed to stream out, a rawness to them that Zhou Zishu had not heard for a while now. A rawness that, this time, held healing.

Sitting back up on folded knees, the man gestured behind him to the head of Four Seasons Manor, “I’ve met with Shixiong again, he’s injured, but his friend is going to heal him. Yesterday the little girl I picked up got married, I don’t need to look after her anymore with her husband around. A-Xu and I are going to go off on our own and travel the jianghu together with his little disciple. I hope that…” he cut himself off with a choked sound, quickly catching himself before continuing, “I hope that you will watch us from the Underworld,” bowing one more time, keeping his position bent over for a few moments.

A part of Zhou Zishu wanted to kneel down as well and pay his respects to the couple that had done so much for the world and been treated so cruelly in return, but felt he had no right to. What would his shidi’s parents think if he, the one who was about to so cruelly leave their only son alone and heartbroken, bowed to them?

After a period of silence, Wen Kexing stood up, dusting some of the dirt off of his robes and turning back to Zhou Zishu. The two stared at each other, the younger smiling a soft sort of smile he had only rarely dared to show before, “A-Xu...thank you for coming with me,” a new lightness to his words that had never been there before.

With a nod, the Manor Lord replied, “There’s no need to thank me for this. I’m glad...that I could come with you like I promised you,” a hidden depth to his words. In the previous timeline, the pair of them had never managed to make it here. He had been worried about breaking that promise once again in this lifetime.

The two once again stared at each other quietly, the stand-off broken by Wen Kexing leaping forward to wrap his arms around the other. Zhou Zishu raised his arms on instinct, hugging the taller man back. With his head bent down, the Valley Master, his shidi, buried his head into the older martial artist’s shoulder, speaking softly, “A-Xu...A-Xu...I’m so happy....Everything is finally done...I’ve finally done it, I can finally be happy with you,” the words spoken into the ex-assassin’s robes.

Without the courage to give a response, the dying man raised an arm just as he had that night two days previous and pet the others head, holding their bodies flush against each other.

He could do nothing but curse himself for what was to come.

The final day of Zhou Zishu’s life came without much fanfare. Rather than going out again, the two had decided to stay at the house in a facsimile to their time at the Four Seasons Manor before it had been burnt down. Chengling had taken the chance to stick to the pair like a bramble, sick of having to dodge around the loving newlyweds and too intimidated by his shifu’s friends.

Beiyuan and Wu Xi had also chosen to hover nearby, the two of them watching from the adjacent room as Zhou Zishu sat on a bench in the kitchen. Wen Kexing was dithering around the place, making up a lunch for them all with their disciple as his helper. This was, of course, just as doomed to fail as the last time.

The two of them had spent the morning walking through the surrounding trees, taking in the beauty around them. For the younger man, it was a new look at the world around him he was ready to finally allow himself to truly enjoy, for the elder, it was a last goodbye to the world he had barely gotten a taste of.

And yet, the dying man found that today was the best day he had ever had.

Sitting there, watching their disciple and his soulmate rush back and forth around the kitchen brought a sense of peace he hadn’t allowed himself to feel since their New Years celebration. If he had a choice, if he could continue to experience days like these forever…

Well, it didn’t matter what he wanted, in the end.

By the time night had rolled around, Zhou Zishu found himself once again walking to his confidant’s room. It was doubtful the other man was asleep yet, the night was just starting to take a turn for the late, only the young ones among them already having turned in for the night.

Ye Baiyi had yet to return, this alone letting the Manor Lord know the other man had yet to find anything. The small spark of hope he had allowed himself died. It wasn’t that he had been counting on their senior to find some other miracle cure out there, but a part of him, a human part, couldn’t help but to hope.

With that in mind, the former head of the Window of Heaven gave a knock at the door, wanting to make sure the other was inside before just walking in.

A call of “A-Xu?” was his answer, sliding open the door to find his soulmate getting ready for bed. Stalking forward, Zhou Zishu, in his inner robes, used all of his last dredges of bravery to speak, “Lao Wen, I…”

The other looked at him in surprise for a moment, expression quickly morphing into a brilliant smile, “A-Xu! To come alone into my room while in only your inner robes...could it be you want to sleep with this shidi?” cutting off whatever it was the elder man was going to say.

Quickly losing all of his push to say whatever it was he had meant to, the Manor Lord gave a small smirk, joking back, “And if I do?” refusing to turn around and leave. If this were his last night, his last chance to spend time with the object of his affections, he had to make the most of it.

Startled for a moment, Wen Kexing pulled up the blankets he had just gotten under with a smirk, “Then, by all means,” coy as he ever was in these moments between them.

Taking the invitation for what it was, Zhou Zishu slid under the covers next to the other, the pair just barely fitting together on the bed. It was clearly a resting place meant for only one person, with both of them on top, they had to be slotted so close together that not a piece of skin on either of their sides was left not touching.

The duo faced each other for a moment, two smiles meeting. After a moment of quiet, Zhou Zishu turned to the side, looking up at the ceiling above their heads. As though unable to bear looking at his love for even a moment longer.

“Lao Wen...I’m happy we got to meet again. I never expected to find you. I had been planning to drink myself to death, traveling around until the nails became too much,” words spilling out from his lips like a fountain, knowing this would be the last conversation they would ever have with each other.

Still looking at his companion, Wen Kexing replied, “Once the Shaman heals you, we can travel around for as long as you like. We can wander as far away as we please, Chengling can take care of the Four Seasons Manor with the other new disciples, A-Xiang and Weining will be there too whenever we want to come back and visit,” reaching down to grasp the other’s cold hand in his. It wasn’t unusual for Zhou Zishu’s body temperature to be lower than the average person’s after the nails were put in, much less after his time as an immortal frozen in time, though the other man would never know that.

Holding back the tears he knew were threatening to fall--for Lao Wen and the future they would never, could never have, for his little disciple who would be left in charge of an entire sect on his lonesome at an age just barely younger than he himself had been when he had fallen into the role, for the two newly weds whose bright new start would be darkened with his sudden death, for his friends who he had made to keep silent, who would have to witness the aftermath--the man turned again to look at the other. He gave a light squeeze to the hand holding his own in its grasp, continuing on with the words he had been trying to say all night, “In our next lives, and the one after that, and forever into the future, I hope that we can meet again,” his voice stronger than he had expected it to be.

“A-Xu...why are you thinking about such things? We still have our whole lives to wander together,” squeezing back the hand in his own, “Of course we will, not even the ten kings of the Underworld could separate us. I wouldn’t let them. I already told you, we’ll be boiling in that pot together,” the younger grinned, and though he spoke in a light matter, it was obvious he wasn’t joking.

With a huff turned to a smile, Zhou Zishu spoke, “Beiyuan had mentioned something about a past life, so I was thinking about it,” the excuse, a lie, came so naturally. He had never wanted to lie to his soulmate if he could help it, yet now it seemed as though he did nothing but.

Pursing his lips, the other man complained, “A-Xu, can you not talk about other men while we’re in bed together?” giving his companion an incredulous look, as though he were shocked the other man had the gall to mention another while they lay together.

“I forgot how jealous my shidi can be,” the elder teased back, emphasizing their relationship light-heartedly. They both knew Wen Kexing was much more than that.

Darkness continued to creep in, the time well-past when everyone else in the mansion had already gone to turn in. The pair remained quiet in the night, staring at each other, one half-asleep, the other wide awake.

Mumbling as he drifted off, the taller of the two remarked, “Tomorrow...let’s decide where we’ll wander to first…” words trailing off as his breathing evened out.

Zhou Zishu watched the other fall asleep, never letting go of the hand in his grasp, though relaxing his grip so his own hand lay on top of the other’s. With a tired expression, he quietly replied, “...Forgive me, Lao Wen.”

He would be leaving first.

Wen Kexing awoke to the bright rays of the sun floating down across his room. A pair of birds chirped back and forth at each outside his window, making it difficult to keep his eyes closed for any longer. While he usually was the type to rise early, A-Xu the one who slept in late, today he wanted to stay right where he was for as long as he could. Memories of the previous night floated around the expanse of his mind, bringing a warm smile to his face.

The last few days had felt like a dream, the long-sought after happiness he had never even dared to hope for was more of a reality now than he could have ever imagined. Zhao Jing had gotten his comeuppance, A-Xiang had found a husband to settle down with, he had given his parents proper tombs, and A-Xu was going to be cured by the Shaman. For once, there was no heavy oppression laying over him, not hidden schemes, no secret pain; the guilt he had felt for over twenty years was finally lifted off of his shoulders.
It felt as though he were free. At long last, for the first time in his life, Wen Kexing felt alive.

If things went well, he and A-Xu could go off to explore the world soon. Perhaps they’d drop Chengling off at the Four Seasons Manor with the other new disciples, he hadn’t told A-Xu yet, but they had been working on rebuilding the manor ever since their rescue. His companion would no doubt be ecstatic to be able to see a newly rebuilt Four Seasons Manor filled with eager disciples. While he had reached the dream he had never dared to hope for, this would do the same for his dear shixiong.

Speaking of said man, it seemed as though Wen Kexing himself had turned over at some point last night, no longer face-to-face with his beloved. He had been hoping to wake up to see that beautiful face first thing in the morning, instead finding the bland ceiling above. Perhaps even worse was that, in his moving, the now-former Ghost Valley head had slipped his hand out of that reassuring grasp.

Surely A-Xu was still asleep, it was rare for the other man to wake up before morning were already halfway through nowadays. He warred with himself, trying to decide his next course of action. He could keep laying here, perhaps turn over and take that hand back in his own, but his dear might awaken from that and lash out; he could also go all-in and wake the other man up, start their day off early. If he could convince the elder man, he’d like to see if they could go back to Yuefan Tower again.

Still, it might also be nice to just lay here side-by-side.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Wen Kexing decided that, at the very least, he could turn over to look at his confidant face-to-face. If A-Xu had been able to fall asleep with the taller man’s eyes on him, that meant he felt comfortable enough with his shidi’s presence to stay asleep even if Wen Kexing stared at him, didn’t it?

Mind made up, the former Ghost Valley Master smiled and gently turned towards his side, once again meeting that stunning visage.

He didn’t realize it at first, still half-asleep, caught up in his fantasies at what they would do today. Staring at the other’s still, pale face, he felt as though something were off, the happy smile dropping off of his face into a confuddled look. It took a few moments of watching before he worked out what was wrong.

A-Xu wasn’t breathing.

His A-Xu,

His confidant,

His best friend,

His beloved,

His only light in this dark world…

Immediately jolting up from his drowsy state, Wen Kexing fumbled for the other’s wrist, trying to take a pulse despite already knowing what he would find from the cold temperature of the elder’s skin.

Wide brown eyes stared down disbelieving at the unmoving figure, as though unable to comprehend the truth of what he was feeling. Still holding the limp, too-thin wrist in his grasp, the younger man reached forward, lightly shaking the other’s shoulder.

“A-Xu...A-Xu...wake up…” he called, voice getting more and more hysterical as he continued to try to rouse the other. As though Zhou Zishu were merely sleeping.

With a wild smile, he continued on, “A-Xu...you have to wake up...we’re going to travel the jianghu together, aren’t we? You have to wake up so we can go. I know you don’t like waking up early in the mornings,” too afraid to shake the other any harder.

At the lack of response, Wen Kexing stopped in place, staring blankly. The body remained still. Zhou Zishu’s chest silent and still. That pale face forever frozen in sleep.

Unbidden, tears began to gather at the corner of the younger man’s eyes, falling freely without his consent. His breathing soon turned ragged, speeding up faster and faster as he watched for any sign of life. He was willing to sacrifice anything, to follow any orders, subscribe to any religion in and around the Central Plains if those familiar eyes opened once more.

Of course, that was impossible by now.

With a shuddering breath, Wen Kexing lunged forward, tugging the body close to his chest. Curling himself inwards, as though to protect the still, silent man in his arms, the younger of the two let his mind fall through, drowning in a rushing stream of thoughts.

Was this how his A-Xu had felt back then, when he had thought Wen Kexing had died? Had it been this painful? This cold? Had the world suddenly seemed so vast and empty, so worthless without his soulmate? What had happened? How had his A-Xu suddenly died like this, had his friends not said they would be treating him? Even if they weren’t yet, did his A-Xu not still have at least two and a half years time left to live? How? Why?

He had thought no pain would ever compare to what he had endured up to today. That the worst he had ever experienced was the loss of his parents, something he would never have to go through once again.

It had hurt when he learnt his A-Xu was dying for the first time. Back then he had felt as though his world had splintered, the hurt akin to what he had felt those twenty years ago in front of that peasant’s home. At the time he had convinced himself he would keep a distance from his A-Xu, that they could still spend time together, but when the time came, he would be prepared.

He had never expected this.

Compared to now, to his entire world shattering into unsalvageable pieces, that pain was nothing.

Where had all of their time gone? Their promise to spend their lives together traveling the pugilist world? Even if his A-Xu only had those three or so years left, that would be enough. It would have been enough. He had been too greedy, too selfish, for the world to let him have this. The Ghost Valley Master didn’t deserve to have a light in his life, he would do no more than smother it.

“What’s going on? Why is there screaming?” someone questioned, throwing open the door to the room with a bang.

Screaming? Who was screaming? Wen Kexing was sure he and A-Xu were the only two in here, and it wasn’t either of them. At the thought, the young man suddenly became aware of an odd soreness to his throat, the static that had filled his ears clearing to find that there was indeed someone screaming.

Broken, sharp jagged edges scraping over each word, his own voice cried out repeatedly, “A-Xu…! A-Xu...I’m sorry...I’m sorry...Come back...A-Xu…!”

From somewhere in front of him that he couldn’t see, his gaze stuck on the unmoving body in his grasp, another voice chimed in, “Wu Xi, can you calm him down? He’ll hurt himself if he keeps going,” floating over from the long-forgotten doorway.

There must have been some sort of affirmation, because before Wen Kexing knew what was happening, a sudden sweet aroma filled the air. Drunk like a Dream.

Struggling to stay awake, he pulled the body in his arms impossible closer to himself, the stiffness awkward against his side. He didn’t care. Breathing heavy, his voice quieted, tears never stopping, “A...A-Xu...Come..back…”

Jing Beiyuan looked down at the passed out man with a frown, looking to his partner, “Put him back down on the bed and give me one of the blankets, I’ll move Zishu to the floor. The kids probably heard the commotion, I wouldn’t be surprised if they came in looking,” moving forward to try and pry the corpse from the sleeping man’s grasp.

It took some effort from the two of them, but they were eventually successful, placing their long-time friend down on the floor. Neither were sure what to do from here. Would Zishu want them to let his disciple see? Should they bury him now or allow Wen Kexing to be there? How long could they keep the hysterical man in the world of dreams before telling him the truth of what had occurred?

Before either could make another move, another person entered the opened door-way, clearly having run there.

Ye Baiyi stood, staring down at the two figures lying down in the room. His gaze moved from one to the other, as though assessing the situation inside. Walking further in, he placed his fingers under Zhou Zishu’s nose, checking for any sign of breath. There was none.

With a sigh, the immortal stood up, not taking his eyes off of the body, “I told him I would search for a cure, but there was nothing anywhere I looked. I had hoped he would be able to hold out a day or two longer, but it looks like I was too late,” turning his gaze to the incense burner. With a frown, he questioned, “What stupid things are you doing this time?”

“Zishu’s shidi was the one who found him first, we had to calm him down the only way we could. He was on the verge of a qi deviation,” the former Prince explained, letting out a sigh of his own. None of them were close with Wen Kexing, it would have been difficult if not impossible to have calmed him down in any other way.

Annoyed, the elder man scoffed, throwing the incense burner aside, “Idiots. Let me handle this,” hopping onto the bed and shoving the unconscious martial artist into a sitting position. Placing his hands on the younger’s back, Ye Baiyi worked on smoothing out the other’s qi with utmost precision.

It didn’t take long for the former Valley Master to wake up, brown eyes blearily blinking open. Almost immediately he lurched up, scanning the room with reckless abandon, “A-Xu! Where’s A-Xu…! I dreamt that he--”

“He’s dead,” Ye Baiyi cut-in, forcing the other to turn and look him in the eyes, “He pulled the nails out before the Heroes Conference. I tried to find a way to save him, but it was too late. He said he didn’t want you to know,” then gave a sigh and looked down to the side, as though he himself were unable to look into those horror-stricken eyes, “It’s my fault for leaving him alone after he tried to jump with you. I said no one dies before me, but of course Qin Huaizhang’s disciple had to break that vow,” sounding more defeated than annoyed.

The new information ran through the newly awakened man’s brain, repeating endlessly, the sentences running into each other until they became a jumbled mess of words and feelings.

A-Xu had taken the nails out? When had he done that? If it had been before the Heroes Conference but after he had witnessed Wen Kexing’s fake death, that meant…

Blank eyes stared down, the former Valley Master’s body tense to the point of snapping. With a stilled voice, he spoke, “It was my fault...A-Xu died because of me.”

Wu Xi took this moment to step in, staff in hand, “No, I’m also to blame. I told you not to tell him because I was concerned it would worsen his condition. I didn’t think he would do what he did,” not willing to let these two take the entirety of the blame.

“Zishu wanted to spend his last days happy with you all, he asked us not to say anything because he didn’t want to upset you,” Lord Seventh tried to explain, “He didn’t blame you.”

Turning to look at the pair by the bed, Wen Kexing questioned, “You all knew…? Ha, how ironic,” he laughed, a sharp ugly thing, “A-Xu was one of the only ones who didn’t know about the plan back then, and now I’m the one who didn’t know about him dying,” was this how A-Xu had felt, knowing he had been left in the dark? Glancing down at the still form of his shixiong on the floor, he couldn’t help but to wonder.

A sudden thought seemed to come to the distraught man’s mind, reinvigorated gaze turning to the elder behind him, “Old Monster, you said you could bring someone back from the dead before. Bring him back, I’ll do anything you want, whatever you say,” a wild desperation to him.

Frowning, Ye Baiyi looked down at the body himself, “I can only bring him back for a ke at most, the only other option would be to use the forbidden technique of the Healer’s Valley,” the memory of learning his own disciple had undergone such a procedure coming to mind.

“You can’t. There’s no one here whose heart we can use, not to mention the risk of him coming back insane, just as Rong Xuan did,” Wu Xi vetoed, hitting his staff against the floor as did so to emphasize his point.

A part of Wen Kexing wanted to push that point, more than willing to sacrifice one of the ghost underlings to bring his beloved back to life. At the same time, he knew he couldn’t. Not only would A-Xu never want that, but the risk of causing another tragedy like what his own family had experienced was too great. If he caused his soulmate to come back from the dead with a fractured mind, violent and unstable, suffering through the inability to regain control, he would never be able to forgive himself.

Still, a ke. Even a ke was enough. He needed to speak to him one more time, to apologize to A-Xu and tell him how much he cared for him with the words he had kept hidden in his heart.

“A ke is enough. Please, Ye-qianbei,” looking straight into the elder man’s eyes, trying to convince him with his look alone, “I’ll do anything. I’ll apologize for every time I’ve insulted you. I’ll kneel outside in the town calling myself a fool for a hundred years. I’ll give up my cultivation and live as a peasant,” fists clenched in the sheets.

The other man looked at him for a moment with a small frown, eventually sighing with a nod, “Fine. Brat, you don’t have to do any of that. I owe you already. Help prop him up, I need to get to his palms,” moving to get off the bed and down onto the floor.

Beiyuan held back Wu Xi as he moved to help, shaking his head and gesturing for Wen Kexing to be the one to touch the cooled body. Letting out a shaky breath, the seated man nodded, getting up from his own position to pull up the stiffened corpse, allowing the relaxed hands on each side of the dead man’s hips to show.

Ye Baiyi touched his own palms down on the exposed hands, channeling his power into the empty vessel. His hair gradually turned more and more white, the coloring now about half-white and half-dark brown. No one commented on this, too focused on watching the remains for any sign of life.

All of a sudden, Zhou Zishu lurched forward in Wen Kexing’s arms, coughing up a storm. He seemed to be having trouble getting used to breathing again, choking on air and gasping for breath. It was the most beautiful thing Wen Kexing had ever seen.

Feeling the body in his arms moving, the former Valley Master felt an indescribable sense of joy, keeping his arms hooked around the other steady. After taking a few moments to get his bearings, Zhou Zishu blinked in confusion, looking around, “I...How am I here? Ye-qianbei, you--”

“Don’t worry about it. I wanted to do it so I did it. Now shut up and talk to the fool behind you,” the man in front of him spat, gesturing for the other to turn around.

It was somewhat difficult to move in a body that had just been dead mere moments ago. Slowly turning around, the former assassin found himself face to face with his soulmate once more, the other staring at him with wide eyes, “Lao Wen…” he trailed off, taking note of the obvious tear tracks marring the other’s face.

“A-Xu...A-Xu, you’re back…” the younger martial artist spoke, hands moving up to touch at the quickly warming skin of Zhou Zishu’s face.

A sense of guilt welled-up within the Manor Lord’s stomach, the man speaking, “Lao Wen, I...I’m sorry I--” only to be cut-off once again.

With an intense look, the former Valley Master spoke, “No, A-Xu, I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have hidden the truth from you. If I had known, if I had…” he trailed off, looking off into the past. If he had found out earlier, he might have been angry, spitting out indignation at the possibility of being left behind. But A-Xu had already died. They only had a ke at most. He didn’t want to waste any of these precious moments on anger.

“A-Xu, I…” he began, then cut himself off, “I can’t live in a world without you,” forcing the words out of his torn throat. The familiar burn of tears made themselves known once more, those traitorous drops already beginning to form once more, “What is the world worth without my light in it? A-Xu...you’re the only light in this world for me. You can’t go,” the tears now falling freely once more.

Stiff warm fingers reached up, a gentle thumb wiping away the burning tears, “Lao Wen...You need to live on...A-Xiang and Chengling still need you. Promise me you’ll live,” Zhou Zishu spoke, voice serious.

Reaching up to hold the hand touching his face, the younger man replied, “How am I supposed to survive without you...A-Xiang has Cao Weining now, Chengling can be taken care of by the other disciples of Four Seasons Manor. Weren’t we supposed to travel the world together? Don’t leave me...don’t die,” he begged, reveling in the warmth he felt grasped in his hands.

“Lao Wen,” the elder man started, his own expression softened, "You have to live on, promise me you will. I don’t want you to end your life before you’re meant to die,” moving to hold one of the hands clutching at his own. Looking into the other’s dark eyes, he continued, “I’ll wait for you at Naihe Bridge. I was already there talking with one of the Messengers about how I was waiting for you,” gently squeezing the appendage.

Wet eyes met the other man’s pale face, a shaky voice calling out, “A-Xu..I…” for a moment Wen Kexing was sure he was going to faint. That he would fall over and then wake up back in the world where everything was still alright. Where his A-Xu was going to be cured, where they were planning their future together. He would wake up with his beloved sleeping by his side, their warm hands connected.

“Lao Wen. Promise me.”

If this were his A-Xu’s last request, the least he could do was agree. Even if he didn’t know if he would truly keep it. Choking back another sob, the man nodded, first slowly, then faster, “Alright...Alright, A-Xu. I...I’ll live. I’ll watch Chengling, I’ll take care of the Four Seasons Manor until he’s old enough, I’ll do everything and you can watch from the Underworld, waiting for me,” he turned frantic, hands clutching almost painfully at those holding his own, “You can’t go! You can’t...A-Xu...I...I…you’re my….”

All too soon the grip in his own loosened, going limp against his palm. Those eyes he had longed to see dulled once more, the body pitching forward against Wen Kexing’s chest, no longer able to hold itself up. Unable to comprehend what had just happened, the younger male stared down at his soulmate’s corpse, words dying on his lips.

“My…”

“You’re my...”

There was nothing more to say. There was no one there to listen.

They had buried A-Xu at the Four Seasons Manor. The sect was newly rebuilt in all of it’s splendor. It had been difficult at first, to even approach the place. Four Seasons Manor had been where the two of them and their little disciple had spent their first true days of happiness together. Back then, Wen Kexing had wondered if he would ever be able to, ever be allowed to, enjoy such a happy future.

Now, he knew better.

Without the manuals left behind, written in meticulous, familiar handwriting, it would have been impossible for the Four Seasons Manor’s sword style to be passed down. It seemed as though at some point A-Xu had been concerned about this very idea, gathering together materials for the future that he foretold would pass without him.

Wen Kexing had needed to take charge in the beginning. Chengling had been devastated when he found out what had happened that day, that he had missed saying farewell to his shifu while he had the chance. A part of the former Valley Master felt guilty for not coming to get the boy, another part felt it didn’t matter. It would have taken up some of the precious time he had been given to speak with the other one last time. He was selfish enough to think that.

A-Xiang had been upset as well, more-so than even she had expected. Apparently the girl had yet to realize just how much she had come to care for that sickly man that her Master had clung to, never having expected to become attached to what she had initially seen as a pest. Even Weining felt the loss, although he was not nearly as close to either of the older martial artists, he had come to know them both and had thought of them as his father-in-laws.

The young husband had felt guilty for a time, for having advised the other two teens to leave Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishu alone that fateful day. It was impossible for them not to have heard the screaming, the sound frightening enough to get the two younger ones up and ready to rush out. Weining had been the one to stop them. He had had a feeling of what had happened at the time. That night he had held A-Xiang back, the way the elder man had spoken. When the other man had returned later, safe and sound, he had put the vague worry out of his mind. Now, he found he had been wrong to believe he had over thought it. He knew, just as he had told A-Xiang before, that those two were more to each other than any of them could understand. If they were to walk in on that…

Well, it didn’t feel right. To intrude like that.

So he had lied and told them to wait, had convinced A-Xiang to join him, the girl herself believing her Master had just had another emotional breakdown and was being comforted by his elder companion. It wasn’t unusual, apparently. Weining had hoped it was the case.

Wen Kexing only knew this because the other had admitted it to him one night. The new head of the Four Seasons Manor couldn’t bring himself to feel any sort of anger at the confession. In fact, he was thankful. Back then, none of them were in a state to deal with comforting upset teenagers, especially Chengling who had clearly taken to seeing his Shifu as his new father figure. The man himself had barely been able to keep it together, there was no way he would have been able to reassure the boy.

A-Xu had always been better at that, when it really came down to it.

They had put the grave out among the peach blossom trees A-Xu had seemed to like the most. While initially the disciples had wanted to bury their previous Manor Lord near the man’s own master and deceased shidi, Wen Kexing had vetoed the idea. Knowing A-Xu, he wouldn’t have wanted that. Wouldn’t have found himself worthy of it, after everything he had done.

Not that the younger man agreed with the idea, but he understood. The least he could do was understand and respect his shixiong’s wishes.

It had seemed impossible to go on, at first. Standing there in front of that silent, grey stone. They had carved his name and title, his real title of the Lord of Four Seasons Manor, into the grave marker. Knowing his love, he wouldn’t appreciate food as much as alcohol when it came to offerings, so Wen Kexing always made sure to bring a jug of wine to pour out for the other man during his daily visits. The other disciples might bring food now and again, Chengling in particular bringing bread and buns when he had the chance to come. A-Xiang would visit at times herself, bringing Weining and their child with her. Wen Kexing found it hard to force a smile for even his little girl these days.

Living had never gotten easier for the one left behind, he had merely come to learn how to deal with it. Waking up in the morning to a world without A-Xu. Walking the halls of the manor his love had grown in. Standing in front of the grave with a poem on his lips. Poetry had always been how he showed his affections, the only way he dared to voice the truth of them aloud. Every time he visited, he would make sure to recite some, even when he could barely stand.

Some nights Wen Kexing would stumble over, drunk out of his mind, voice raw and broken;

“Last night the wind and rain together blew,
The wall-curtains rustled in their autumn song.
The candle died, the water-clock was exhausted,
I rose and sat, but could not be at peace.
Man's affairs are like the flow of floodwater,
A life is just like floating in a dream.
I should more often go drunken through the country,
For otherwise I could not bear to live.”

Other times he would stand in silence, bringing out his jade flute to play for one who could no longer hear it, reciting only after he had played that familiar song;

“How many tears
Criss-cross your cheeks and run across your face!
Don't try to speak when worry makes you weep,
Nor play the flute when it will bring your tears,
Or surely then your heart will break.”

Li Yu had become his most read poet of late. Often he would find himself sitting and rereading these poems again and again, the anguish buried within them resonating with his own grief and longing. One night he had walked out alone, long after everyone had fallen asleep, having woken from a dream he didn’t dare return to. With bound book in hand, he read to his A-Xu’s grave. He poured out the feelings he could not dare to put into his own words through them, quoting them into the silent night;

“How can a man escape life's sorrow and regret?
What limit is there to my solitary grief?
I returned to my homeland in a dream,
As I awakened, I shed two tears.
Who now will climb up those high towers,
I remember those clear autumn scenes.
Those past events have lost their meaning,
They disappear as in a dream. “

There were times he would rage. Scream and accuse, spit out all of the anger and pain he felt at being left behind. Sometimes he would sit and cry, barely able to bring himself to look at the silent stone. Often, when he was drunk enough, he would lean against the stone and laugh, laugh until he could barely breathe. He would talk and give his missing love updates on their life, telling him how Chengling was coming along, how well the Manor was doing, how much Wen Kexing missed him. Longed for him.

Years passed like that, somehow crawling at the pace of a tortoise and racing forward as quickly as a rabbit at the same time. By the time their little disciple was finally of age, no longer little and needing Wen Kexing to help him manage things, the man had made up his mind.

At some point, Baiyi had made it into the man’s hands. It was given to him one night by Chengling, the adolescent determinedly walking in and placing the sword on the table Wen Kexing had been leaning against, half-way to drunk out of his mind for the third night in a row. He had tried to turn down the item at first, not wanting to take the memento away from A-Xu’s disciple, but the boy had been insistent he take it. Since then, he would carry it around with him wherever he went, wrapped around his waist underneath his clothes just as A-Xu had always worn it.

After the first year, the former Valley Master had made a decision. It was impossible to get the dream of their future out of his mind, the image of traveling the jianghu with his soulmate by his side was something he could never forget. A-Xu had only ever wanted that, to be able to go out and freely see the world after a lifetime shackled down by the Prince.

If Wen Kexing could give him that, he would.

So, on the day Chengling reached crowning age, the elder man packed up a bag for himself and left the Four Seasons Manor. It had been an unspoken agreement that the elder man was only staying until their little disciple came of age, the newly matured man made no move to stop his martial uncle from leaving when he did.

Before setting off, Wen Kexing had stopped in the peach blossom forest for one last time, gazing at the gravestone with unreadable eyes. While he did have the sword with him, there was a different sort of weight to standing in front of the spot his beloved was buried in.

Fingers tracing the carved words, the man spoke, “‘Sorrowful parting has cut, but not severed our ties’,” eyes soft, “A-Xu...Even still, I can’t live without you. Chengling became an adult today, there’s no more reason for me to stay. I’m planning to travel around the jianghu with you like we never got the chance to,” slipping the sword off of his person for the other to see, “I’ll take you around, and then I’m going to come back here and die. I know you wanted me to live until the end, but...Ah, you’re so cruel, my A-Xu,” he laughed.

“To leave me alone here, making me promise to live on without you...isn’t this enough? This poor shidi has brought the Four Seasons Manor back to the fame it once had, there’s nothing left for me to do,” the man sighed, looking down for a moment before moving his gaze back to meet the name written on the stone, “A-Xu…’How much sorrow can one man have to bear? As much as a river of spring water flowing east.’ I miss you.”

He missed the other like he missed his heart, like he missed the other half of his soul. He missed the moments the other man would hug him, missed those comforting words, that easy camaraderie. He missed their fights, the moments they would sweep in to save each other, the stolen looks, the shared glances. He missed Zhou Zishu like he had never missed before. He missed wanting to be alive.

With a small laugh, the man stood up, putting the sword back where he usually hid it under his robes, “A-Xu...I’m going to go now. Chengling and the others have already promised to burn you paper money here. Let’s go travel around like we wanted to, like we had planned to, before…” stopping himself, unwilling to go on.

Trying to control his expression, the man pasted on a smile, a facsimile to those now long gone, and repeated, “Let’s go, the jianghu isn’t going to come and visit us,” giving one last bow to the grave before turning and walking away.

For years Wen Kexing traveled the pugilist world, Baiyi always on hand, yet never once used in any altercation he found himself embroiled in. He visited the rivers and valleys, the mountains and streams--from the smallest of villages to the biggest of towns. Everywhere he went, the man would take in the sights of the world he had never truly been able to experience while growing up in the Ghost Valley, buying new foods and goods to show off to the sword when he took to resting in one place.

Traveling helped him to better understand the world, to see more than what he had always known. There were good and bad people everywhere, he would come to know. One small village might have a friendly elder sister to everyone while another might have a cruel leader who ruled over the others with an iron fist. A big town might have thieves lurking the streets at night while another might have kindly Taoists who patrolled the streets and gave whatever they had to the poor.

The world was not as black and white as he had once thought, it was made up of shades of grey so innumerable he could never hope to see them all. It was a lifetime of experience packed into two years of wandering near and far. If only his A-Xu could see him now, see all that he had come to understand.

His journeying ended not long after it had begun. While the jianghu was vast, Wen Kexing had truly only been interested in traveling to the more famous areas, stopping along the way wherever struck his fancy.

But in the end, he always truly had wanted to go home.

It was hard to feel truly free without his soulmate by his side.

Coming back to the Four Seasons Manor was a quiet affair. Wen Kexing hadn’t told Chengling about his plans, though he was certain the boy-turned-man would be able to guess at what he had been planning.

The gravestone stood where it always had, still just as clean as it was the last time the former Ghost Valley Master had seen it. Putting his bag down, the man moved to lay against it, the stone uncomfortably digging into his side.

“A-Xu...we’re back home now. Did you like travelling? Did you see everything you had wanted to? I wanted to ask you where you wanted to go that night, but I fell asleep before I could…” his voice trailed off, the chill of late Autumn slicing through his bones.

One cold hand reaching up, he gently rubbed his hand over the engravings, continuing, “A-Xu...are you still there waiting for me? I’ll be coming soon, you had better be prepared, this wife won’t forgive you so easily for leaving me alone like this,” chuckling a bit, his thin clothing doing little to keep out the cold.

He knew he wouldn’t last long outside, dressed as he was. He had planned on it. When he met his beloved once again in the Underworld, he could easily claim he had truly died of natural causes. This wasn’t breaking his promise, the cold was part of nature, after all…

Feeling his consciousness beginning to wane, the man leaned his head against the hard stone, voice quiet, “‘Although this body yet survives...Finally...we’ll be dust together…'”

When morning came, as it always did, Chengling would come to sweep the grave. It would be no surprise to find the other body there, he and A-Xiang had long expected something like this.

By the next day, a second tomb would be erected beside his Shifu’s. At least this way, they could forever remain at each other’s side.

Dying was, Wen Kexing found, much less painful than he had expected it to be. Perhaps part of that was due to how he had died, slowly falling into a frozen eternal sleep rather than the painful and bloody end he had always envisioned.

It was as though he had closed his eyes one minute, his body so numb he could barely feel it, only to wake up perfectly fine somewhere he had never been before. A long road stretched out before the man, seeming almost endless. The Yellow Spring Road. He knew exactly what it was.

At the end he would find the Naihe Bridge. At the end, he would find his A-Xu.

Four-thousand, four-hundred, and forty-four zhang was a long way to walk, and yet, to him it felt almost like an instant. A Soulhook Envoy had approached him at some point, saying something he couldn’t care less to listen to. He only had one thing on his mind, only one goal he needed to reach. Rebirth? Judgement? Punishment for his sins? He could deal with those later. Right now, he only needed to see someone again. Someone who had been waiting for him. Someone who he had been waiting for.

As soon as he caught the first glimpse of a figure standing by the bridge, he ran. Ignoring the Soulhook Envoy behind him, he dashed ahead, expression growing brighter and brighter as the other person’s features became more clear.

Those sharp features, that long dark hair, that slim waist, and long legs. His A-Xu looked to be in conversation with someone standing next to him, though they were too far away for him to hear what they were talking about. An elderly woman stood to the side with a large bowl of soup she would stir now and again.

Never before had Wen Kexing been as happy as he was at that moment.

Without warning, he jumped forward, latching onto the other man who had been staring at him in shock. Unable to control himself, the newly deceased martial artist felt his eyes grow wet, crying out, “A-Xu...A-Xu, you really waited…!”

Zhou Zishu looked down at the man in his arms, as though unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Pulling the other back so they faced each other, he looked the younger man up and down, “Lao Wen, you...what are you doing here so early? Didn’t you promise you would live? What happened? How is Chengling? How are A-Xiang and Weining?” holding the others arms tightly.

To hear that familiar nickname once more, to see his A-Xu standing there, moving and speaking. It was almost too much. Biting back his tears, the man explained, “Chengling is fine, he’s taken over the Four Seasons Manor now as an adult. A-Xiang has a son, and I...well, I did die of natural causes,” he smiled in that sly way he sometimes showed, making it obvious he was telling only something akin to the truth.

Part of the elder man wanted to shake the other back and forth, demand to know how exactly he had died. Another part knew what it was like, how impossibly painful it was to live in a world without your soulmate. At the very least, Lao Wen had kept his promise to see Chengling to adulthood. Zhou Zishu was not cruel enough to demand more of that.

With a sigh, the former assassin spoke, “Lao Wen, you…”

“A-Xu...who is this man you’ve been talking with?” the taller changed the subject quickly, turning with a tight smile to the person standing by his beloved’s side. They hadn’t been spending those entire years A-Xu was down here talking, right?

Barely resisting at rolling his eyes, the elder man let his grip on the other relax and explained, “This one of the Messengers, Hu Jia. I told you before, he’s the one I’ve been talking about you with,” referring to that last ke they had together. As though it hadn’t been years ago. As though it had been just yesterday.

With a slight bow, the former Ghost Valley Master greeted, “How nice to meet you, have you spent all this time talking with him?” the jealousy palpable in the air.

Hu Jia laughed, shaking his head, “You’ve got yourself a jealous man here. Don’t worry, I’m not interested in coming in the way of you two. Why don’t you get going now that you’ve finally met, you don’t want to miss your time of rebirth,” gesturing towards the waiting elderly woman before them.

Confused, Wen Kexing spoke, “Are we not going to be punished? I had been looking forward to boiling together with A-Xu for an eternity,” half-joking, half-serious. Come to think of it, should they not have already been placed into their pot to boil by now? How had the two of them come to the bridge so easily?

“You two are already good to go, now hurry up or it’ll be too late,” the Messenger shooed them, not bothering to explain. It didn’t really matter, in the end. They had been judged to be allowed back into the cycle of rebirth once they met again in the Underworld and that was that.

Knowing better than to question the other further, Zhou Zishu pulled his partner along to stand in front of Meng Po, getting a portion of the soup for both of them. The two stared down at the soup, the old woman stared at them.

Wen Kexing hesitated, squeezing his hand in his soulmate’s, “A-Xu, if we forget, then…”

With a smile, the elder turned to face the other, his own portion still left untouched “Lao Wen, even if we forget this life, we’ll still find each other again in the next one. Even if it takes years for it to happen, it doesn’t matter. A soulmate lasts for more than one lifetime,” squeezing back in turn.

For a moment, the taller man stared at the other, as though drinking in his words. The elderly woman behind the soup bowl cleared her throat pointedly, her eyes seeming to tell them to hurry up.

Sharing one last glance, the two drank the soup together, never once letting go.

Zhou Zishu sighed with contentment and leaned against the stone wall behind him, stretching under the smile with a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He had managed to escape the Window of Heaven, but what did he want to do now? It was strangely difficult to figure out. He had done so much, thought himself so great, but what was it that he truly desired? Hadn’t he lost more than he had gained, in the end?

Feeling pity for himself, the man resented his own stupidity.

It was ridiculous. He was ridiculous. What had he been doing, running around the royal court all those years? He had helped shape the current kingdom, had been an important figure in putting the current Emperor on the throne, but had he not thrown away his freedom for it? When was the last time he had done something he truly wanted to do, something even as simple as sitting here in the warm sunlight?

There was something funny about watching the people around him bustling about while he, a man who had once not had the time to even take a moment to rest, now laid comfortably on the ground.

“Master, look at that man!”

With his enhanced hearing, it was easy to overhear a young girl pointing him out from outside a tavern nearby, questioning what he may be doing, calling him an idiot. Ha. As if she could understand him. Then again, he likely looked as much of a fool as she thought. Had he himself not just been thinking he was one?

“He’s just sunbathing,” a warm voice spoke, distinctly male in its baritone.

Something about that voice gave the faux-beggar pause, the man turning to look up towards where the two speakers were sitting. A young girl in purple, the girl who must have spoken earlier, sat leaning over the balcony. Beside her sat a man in grey, a darkness to him that seemed to consume anything and everything within range.

Two pairs of eyes met.