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Chapter Text

Young Marshal Lin Shu is fifteen, and new to his current rank. He has commanded his Chiyu battalion of three hundred for almost two years now, has trained them to be the best of the best and led them from one victory to another. But this promotion has come with another hundred men, and his father’s best officers who had been guiding him have been transferred back out to their own commands.

They are marching to a winter camp, where they will be garrisoned for the next months while Lin Shu trains new officers to replace those taken out of Chiyu and gets the new recruits trained to his standards. He’s riding at the head of the column along a small mountain road when his horse suddenly bolts.

There’s a deafening roar. The ground trembles and the air is opaque with dust. Just behind Lin Shu men and horses scream as they fall down the mountainside. His horse trips and Lin Shu throws himself from the saddle, rolls with the momentum as far as he can.

He has only a moment to breathe, to scramble up and turn to look at the wall of mud and rock that now cuts through the road. Then a rain of arrows descends on them.

The few men on the same side of the landslide as Lin Shu are disoriented, but well-trained. They dive for what little cover there is. Lin Shu presses his back against a stone road marker, curling up to fit his body behind it.

As soon as he’s no longer a tempting target for arrows, masked men descend down the mountainside. Their movements are light and bodies almost weightless in a way that speaks of high-level martial arts, and they have a numerical advantage as well – until reinforcements can get over the landslide, at least. The men with Lin Shu go for their weapons and try to gather up, to get allies at their back.

The combat is chaotic. Lin Shu's ears still ring and nobody has time to stop and listen for orders anyway.

He is light and quick on his feet and manages to keep from getting surrounded, but there are more assilants waiting for him everywhere. One of the enemies, a huge man with an ax, follows him closely and forces him to constantly duck out of range. He doesn’t have enough reach to use his sword against this foe. He thinks of ducking under the next swing to get close, but then what if the bandit kicks or grabs him? Lin Shu might be fast enough to dodge even at that range, but if he’s not, then it’s over. There is no way he can compete on strength.

And then the treacherous, unstable footing collapses under him. He throws himself into a roll, intending to be at least a moving target, but has to drop his sword to do it.

Lin Shu is used to life-or-death battles. He is used to fighting men bigger than him, stronger than him. He has even been surrounded by enemies before. But he has always had a plan, known the terrain, been in control.

He has no control now.

An enemy grabs him, hauls him up. Twists his wrist to slice at Lin Shu's throat. Lin Shu sees death coming. And his men – he can’t see them, but he can hear them, calling his name. He doesn’t know if they’re losing now, but they will be soon. They’ll be reckless, either in trying to rescue him or avenge him. Let themselves be slaughtered for the slightest chance to help.

That is not allowed.

A warmth ignites in his veins, spreads through his blood. Everything feels so clear. He grabs the hand holding the blade, squeezes. A scream fills the air, the hand jerks, opens. Lin Shu grabs the blade from the air, kicks back with the heel of his boot, hits a shin. The hold on him loosens and he turns, blade singing through the air.

He burns through the bandits, like fire igniting dry straw. He feels fluid, calm, tireless. He flickers through the combat, sees where his men need help, where they have things on hand. Feels where he should be.

The tide turns, the enemies rout. Lin Shu finds a discarded bow, aims unerringly time after another, until none of the enemies remain. His hand falls. His fingers slacken. Quiet rings in his ears.

He falls.

Meng-dage is upset, Lin Shu can feel it. Meng-dage never yells, but he does speak sharply at people. Like now.

Lin Shu reaches out a hand to where he can feel Meng-dage, catches his arm. The noises fall quiet. Meng-dage grasps his hand. Squeezes.

Lin Shu relaxes. Feels safe. Falls back into exhaustion once more.

The second time he wakes, he’s actually lucid. There are noises around, hoofbeats, clinking armor, men talking in low voices. Meng-dage is carrying him in his arms, one hand tucked under his helmet and supporting his head. It should be utterly humiliating. Perhaps he’s just too tired to feel it.

He does feel a bone-deep weariness, but it’s not the utter exhaustion that dragged him under anymore. He thinks he could walk. If he had to. But he is feeling very comfortable right now. As long as no-one knows he’s awake, might as well take his time.

“You might want to get up”, Meng-dage murmurs quietly. “If you want to ride into camp and not be carried there.”

Lin Shu groans quietly, then opens his eyes. Meng-dage stops and lets him stand, but keeps a supporting hand on his shoulder. Lin Shu’s men are keeping at some distance, but he can feel their eyes on them.

“Just in time!” Meng-dage says. “We’re only half an hour at most from the garrison”, which meant they’d be passing the outer watchposts soon. “Your horse had to be put down, but you can take mine if you think you can ride?”

“Of course”, Lin Shu says, then pauses. Why did Meng-dage carry him and walk, anyway? Just to give him more time to recover before they arrived? Or did he think he’d be able to protect Lin Shu better that way? “Thanks.”

Meng-dage squeezes his shoulder one last time, then lets go and steps back almost – reluctantly? Lin Shu watches as Meng-dage clenches that hand to a fist, hard. He’s not wearing his gloves for some reason.

Lin Shu feels less steady without his touch. Not dizzy or anything, just – off. A little lonely, even though Meng-dage is just barely at a respectful distance. He shakes his head and tries to let it go.

“Report what happened after I – blacked out – while we ride”, Lin Shu says.

At first the report is what he expected. Meng-dage had been at the back of the column, but had rushed forward as soon as the roar of the landslide alerted him. He’d taken some ten minutes to make it to the front, but had still been one of the first people to make it over the landslide.

He’d arrived just in time to see the men he’d left with Lin Shu start tending to their wounds. Lin Shu's mount had been full of arrows, and he hadn’t seen Lin Shu himself anywhere at first. There’s a pause in the report, then, which Lin Shu reads as 'I was terrified'.

“But I could sense you, as soon as I got close enough”, Meng-dage continues. “Congratulations on going active.”

Lin Shu turns to stare at him. “Active? As in, flame active?”

“Yeah”, says Meng Zhi, one of the very few flame active people Lin Shu knows. A very strong flame, as befits a martial artist of Meng Zhi’s caliber.

Lin Shu had dreamed of going active, almost everyone does. But it’s very rare outside of the best martial artists of the Jianghu. His father isn’t active, in fact he doesn’t think anyone in the court is apart from some hand-picked imperial guards.

Everyone knows Meng Zhi is headed for the imperial guards. That has been obvious ever since he went active at sixteen. Once he has enough command experience in the field the palace will claim him, as it does to most flame actives in the army.

It won’t happen to Lin Shu. He’s too high-born for the imperial guards, who are supposed to be completely uninvolved in politics. Which is good, because he doesn’t want to be stuck in the palace anyway.

“What flame?” He asks eagerly. “How strong?”

“Sky”, Meng-dage says, tilting Lin Shu’s world on its axis once more. “Very strong.”

There are myths about skies. They are natural leaders, some say. They bewitch people into their unthinking slaves, some say. They can read minds, they can know your most intimate secrets just by looking at you. It’s impossible to disobey them. You’d do anything to please them. Their touch is healing, is magical, is ecstasy unlike anything in the world. They break bonds and take you from your family. They make bonds and found families.

Lin Shu doesn’t know where the grains of truth are, in all those legends. He doesn’t feel that much different from how he was before. There’s a crackling, simmering warmth under his skin which bolsters him and keeps him warm even in the coldest winter winds – but that is only different in magnitude, not in essence. He’s very aware of everything and everyone around him – but then he’s always been very observant.

The only thing that he knows is different is this – he can always feel Meng-dage when he’s around. He turns by instinct just in time to watch Meng-dage step into the tent, ducks just in time when Meng-dage reaches out a hand to ruffle his hair. (Feels instantly bad for ducking, wants to lean into Meng-dage’s hand.)

Perhaps it’s because they’re the only two flame active people around. Lin Shu doesn’t know if he wants it to be something else. He’s heard of flame bonds, but he doesn’t know which of the stories about them are real any more than he knows which of the stories about skies are real.

But something inside him aches, and he thinks Meng-dage could soothe that ache, if they only knew how.

“I know a sky”, his father says. “He’s not a subject of Da-Liang, but I think I can convince him to at least show you the basics. I’ll write to him immediately.”

While they wait for an answer, they thank every spirit and ancestor they can think of for the blessing of a sky in the Lin family. Lin Shu begins training his new officers, and Meng-dage shadows him like an overenthusiastic guard dog when he can. Lin Shu allows it. Partly because Meng-dage is a perfect example of what Lin Shu wants from his officers, and partly because he can tell how unsettled Meng-dage is by Lin Shu’s near-death experience.

Meng-dage also shows Lin Shu how his flames work, and how he calls for them. But Meng-dage is a sun (or mostly a sun, Lin Shu thinks, sensing something else in him as well) and his flames are active and lively, jumping to his command and all but begging to be used.

Lin Shu’s flames are calmer, steadier. He has to draw them out, and doesn’t even always succeed. Sometimes it’s instinctive, for a breath or two, and he’ll do something without even realizing what he’s done until afterwards. But the more he thinks of what he’s doing, the less he can actually accomplish. He doesn’t know how to not think.

“Are you sure these are the right flames?” He complains to Meng-dage, flopping dramatically down onto his bedding. “They’d suit a buffalo like Jingyan more than they suit me.”

Meng-dage chuckles. “They feel exactly like you to me.”

Lin Shu scowls at him, but also feels pleased. He’s a sky, and Meng-dage feels it is right.

The answer to his father’s letter comes in, and Lin Shu departs from camp with a honor guard and what gifts his father has been able to scrounge up. Lin Shu knows they’re in the right place halfway up Langya mountain – the air is suffused with a warm haze that wraps around them, welcoming and sage, and Lin Shu instinctively knows that he has entered the territory of another sky. It makes him wary at first, but the flames drenching the mountaintop do not turn hostile even as he arrives at the gates of Langya Hall. Perhaps it is true that in Langya Hall all are welcome.

Lin Shu presents himself and the gifts at the courtyard of Langya Hall and petitions for whatever instruction the Master is willing to bestow on him. Almost immediately he is summoned inside so that the Master can evaluate his worth.

The Master is spry and looks – young. Not obviously ageless in the way Lin Shu has seen some cultivators look, but like he could blend in among youths barely older than Lin Shu. But his body language gives him away. The Master walks with calm fluidity, carrying an air of quiet dignity and wisdom like an immaterial cloak. Lin Shu can see why people come from across the world to ask his guidance, and how Langya Hall stays a center of peace and harmony no matter who enters its walls.

Lin Shu drops to his knees and bows. He keeps down until told to rise, and gives his hand to the Master when asked for it. The Master stays still a long time, feeling his spiritual roots, his fingers curled on Lin Shu’s pulse. Then he lets go, folds his arms into his sleeves and steps back.

“You are indeed a sky of strength and purity”, the Master says, while Lin Shu tries to discreetly shake his arm to get rid of the lingering feeling of ghostly fingerprints pressing into his wrist. “Lin Xie assures me you are also keen of mind and a quick study. It would be unwise to let you go blundering about without knowing what you’re doing, if I can only be assured you will learn and not simply waste my time. You may stay here for the usual fee for room and board, and I will judge your character in time. There are scrolls you can be given access to, for now.”

“Thank you, Master. I will follow your instructions.”

Since he has been given a chance to prove himself, Lin Shu sets to studying with all his resolution. The rooms he has been given offer a gorgeous view down the mountainside, and when he needs to stretch his legs, he takes a bamboo scroll with him for a stroll in the numerous gardens and mountain paths. It is still spring and the winds are cold, but Lin Shu only finds them refreshing. The manor and the mountain it rests on hold the same kind of wild, majestic beauty, more stunning than any manor or palace Lin Shu has ever visited.

The master questions him on his studies after three days, and then again five days after that. Lin Shu’s progress and dedication is deemed satisfactory, though the Master does not start teaching him yet. “It will still take time for you to get an adequate grasp on the theory”, the Master says. “And I have duties that require me to travel. I will return within a month. We will proceed to practical work then, if your studies have advanced sufficiently.”

The Master leaves the following morning, and Lin Shu sends the soldiers who followed him to Langya Hall back to the army. Since he is staying, he has no need for them. If his father had not trusted the Master, he would never have sent Lin Shu to Langya Hall in the first place. He also starts his usual morning training once more, reasoning that since he is to stay for a while, he needs to stay in shape.

On his tenth day at Langya Hall he settles in for an evening of reading, sitting under a flowering magnolia tree planted in the gardens, when a splash of cold water soaks him through. He jumps up to see a boy around his age, dressed in flowing white and holding an empty basin.

The boy widens his eyes slightly and exclaims: “Oh, this one was watering the magnolias and couldn’t discern the young master among them! Pray young master doesn’t strike this humble one down.”

Lin Shu grits his teeth. He is a guest, and it would not be right to start trouble. But he’s hardly about to let the other walk all over him. “I see”, he says, “it would hardly be good of me to hold your poor wits against you, then.”

“Our guest is very gracious”, the boy says, with a dip of his body too small to be called a bow. “May this commoner inquire about the name of our illustrious guest?”

“Lin Shu.”

“The Liang emperor's nephew! Dear me, this humble servant was not aware we were hosting a young master of such pedigree.” Quickly the boy snatches a blooming flower from the tree and tucks it behind Lin Shu's ear, narrowly making it before Lin Shu's reflexive grab captures the offending hand. “There, a pretty royal flower as an apology for the pretty royal descendant.” Then, before Lin Shu can give words to his indignation, the boy vanishes.

That’s too much, Lin Shu thinks. No matter who this boy is, Lin Shu will pay him back in kind.

The first step Lin Shu takes is inquiring about the boy. He will need to know who the boy is and where he spends time in order to form a plan. The absent-minded senior archivist he speaks to doesn’t seem to think on his answer at all, which is why Lin Shu chose him as his first target.

“That would be the young master of Langya Hall, Lin Chen. He occasionally travels with one of his tutors, a wandering doctor, to gain more practical experience in the medicinal arts. He must have returned recently.”

Lin Shu didn’t know the Master had a son. Interesting. He asks a few more leading questions, trying to build a profile of the boys habits, and adjusts his plans accordingly. He doesn’t want to do anything too dangerous or disruptive, or anything that might get him thrown out or put someone else in danger. If this Lin Chen works as a doctor, or a doctor's assistant at least, he should not be disturbed in his duties.

He needs a plan where he can control when, and on who, it is unleashed. Using the boys room is an option, but servants might enter it as well. The other option is that Lin Shu needs to be present himself, in order to be in control of the situation.

Well, the boy seems to think him an arrogant noble fool. Why not use that against him?

He finds a suitable place for his plan in the garden pool located right next to the main house. The pool is roughly rectangular, over three times longer in one direction than the other, and there is a curved bridge halfway thorough it, put together with mortise-tenon joints. The pieces of railing slot together like puzzle pieces, and there is a single peg driven through every join that goes through the separate pieces and holds them together firmly. Lin Shu removes the pegs from the whole length of the railing in the early hours of the morning, then tests how much force is now required to make the railing come apart without them. It’s still a fair bit, more than anyone holding the railing while passing through should exert, but a careless step on it should do.

Then he only needs to draw this Lin Chen's ire enough that he doesn’t remember to be careful.

Some hours later Lin Shu is practicing his qinggong by jumping over the pool in the shorter direction. When he hears the doors to the main house open, he times his next jump over the pool so that he lands right in front of the house just as Lin Chen comes out.

“Oh”, Lin Shu says as if noticing him for the first time. “Little gardener.” Then he takes off for another jump without giving Lin Chen time to answer.

As expected, Lin Chen is still there when he turns back around.

“You’re staring, little gardener”, Lin Shu says as he jumps again. “Wishing you could learn?”

“I already know”, Lin Chen says.

“Know what? How to dredge a pool? Is that why you’re here?”

“Young master is very amusing, quite hysterical”, Lin Chen says, folding his arms and leaning against a pillar. “I know you asked about me.”

I should have expected that. “I did ask, but it’s rather hard to believe. Young Master of Langya Hall, working in the gardens? Well, I suppose you are just a commoner.”

Lin Chen's eyes narrow a fraction, but it still looks more thoughtful than annoyed.

“So, is this too difficult for the young master?” Lin Shu says in the most irritating way he can manage. “I suppose even Langya Hall’s education can only do so much to make up for some deficiencies.”

At this, Lin Chen's eyes glint. Lin Shu suppresses a grin. It’s good to be right – he thought slighting Langya Hall would do it.

Lin Chen crosses the pool with one easy leap, the same way that Lin Shu had. “That’s not too bad”, Lin Shu says condescendingly. “For a warm-up.”

“Young master is too kind,” Lin Chen says, gliding back just as easily.

Lin Shu rounds the corner of the pool so that he stands on the short end. The jump from there to the bridge is a fair bit longer, and you have to land higher up as well. For Lin Shu, it is challenging enough to be interesting, but not dangerous to try, and he trusts Lin Chen is of a similar enough skill level.

Lin Shu takes the jump, still without any run-up just to show off. He lands a little off the center of the bridge, touching down on the railing right on top of the only vertical support beam he left untouched. He turns immediately to face toward Lin Chen, forcing himself to seem nonchalant.

“Think you can do it?” Lin Shu says, channeling all the smugness he can scrounge up to his voice.

Lin Chen eyes the distance, sighs, and takes the jump. Lin Shu watches as his foot touches on the railing, lightly at first. Then his weight starts to come down and the beam slips from its place.

The boy falls backwards, arms windmilling. The splash as he hits water is delightful. Lin Shu has to cover his grin with his sleeve.

He jumps to the side of the pond and extends his arm as Lin Chen surfaces, ready to pull him to dry land and look plausibly upset and apologetic. Instead, Lin Chen’s hand darts out, grabs his wrist and pulls him to the pond as well.

After a while the doctor that mentors Lin Chen comes looking for him. He finds the boys still in the pond, with Lin Shu holding Lin Chen in an armlock and trying to force him down while both of their feet keep slipping in the mud. One of Lin Shu's arms is useless – Lin Chen had hit a pressure point in his shoulder which made his whole arm go limp.

While the doctor shouts at them, Lin Chen finally manages to hit something in Lin Shu's leg, and he lets out an an undignified eep and barely closes his mouth in time as he falls face first into the murky, freezing water. He still hangs on to Lin Chen's arm, though, and they both go under again.

There is a moment of utter chaos, both of them scrambling to get up again, and Lin Shu gets a kick in the chin as his reward for letting go of Lin Chen's arm. When they stand up, muddy and dripping, the doctor bellows at them until they stop glaring at each other.

They’re both hustled out of the pond and into a hot bath, and afterwards the doctor lectures them and pours them both a cup of foul-smelling hot brew. Lin Shu pretends to drink, and when Lin Chen has finished his cup and set it down, discreetly switches their cups. Lin Chen gives him a look, but when Doctor Yan notices and admonishes Lin Chen for not drinking his share, he doesn’t snitch on Lin Shu. When Doctor Yan lets them go they trade a glance of mutual understanding: they’re even now.

It doesn’t stop them from pranking each other on the next day, or the day after that. But after the disaster where Lin Shu tries and fails to sneak up on Lin Chen and they both end up rolling into an anthill, they make a mutual pact of non-agression - at least until all the adults have stopped watching them so carefully.

The day after that Lin Chen joins Lin Shu in his morning exercises, and Lin Shu kicks his ass in three spars, goading him all the while. The next day Lin Chen insist on dragging him into the nearest village instead.

“Is the sparring too much hard work for the young masters taste?” Lin Shu teases, and doesn’t admit that he’d love a day free from studying as well.

“I have an errand in the village, and we can chance upon some lovely ladies on the way”, Lin Chen proclaims. “I can’t believe you haven’t paid your respects to the local maidens yet!”

“So vulgar”, Lin Shu complains, but lets himself be herded out of the gardens. "I'm engaged."

“You’re such a pampered prince”, Lin Chen says, waving a fan at him. “Listen, if you want to impress anyone here, you need to follow my lead.”

Lin Shu rolls his eyes and swats the fan away. “The Young Master orders me to come, dare I refuse?”

“Come then, if you need practice with your qinggong, we can race to the road.”

Lin Chen wins that race by a lot, being more familiar with the terrain, but the thrill of the chase keeps Lin Shu in good spirits despite the loss. Lin Chen's company is easy, and his mind is quick and agile. Though they have very different areas of expertise, they’re both knowledgeable about most topics, and their conversation flows effortlessly all the way to the village.

Once there Lin Shu discovers the errand - a traveling merchant Lin Chen seems to hold a grudge toward is in the village, and Lin Chen wants to ruin his day. Lin Shu shakes his head but joins in the planning, and together they manage to convince all the locals that his wares are infested with woodworms.

“Not that the truth is much better”, Lin Chen assures him. “His workmanship is shoddy, and he overprices his wares.”

(Lin Shu has friends who are enablers, but he’s never before had a friend who keeps up with, and even surpasses, the amount of trouble he creates.)

When the Master eventually returns, Lin Shu is almost thrown out of the gates. He paces anxiously in his room while Lin Chen follows after his father with loud protests. After three hours of tense waiting, Lin Shu's things already packed and ready to go, Lin Chen returns triumphant.

“You’ll get to stay!” Lin Chen says, tapping Lin Shu on the cheek with his fan as emphasis. “But father wishes to speak with you. He is waiting for you in his study.”

Lin Shu goes, apprehensive and worried. He hopes he won’t be prohibited from seeing Lin Chen. He knows they’ve gotten into plenty of trouble, but nothing that serious! And Lin Chen has been beside him every step of the way!

He drops into a kowtow in front of the Master, waits with his heart in his throat until finally the Master sighs and commands him to rise. Lin Shu lifts his head and looks, for the first time, but the fury the Master displayed hours ago has been replaced with resignation.

“Lin Chen has chosen you as his sky.”

Lin Shu blinks in bafflement for a moment, before the words sink in. “I haven’t – we’ve bonded? How?” How didn’t I notice?

“Not yet. But you’re well on your way there. You’re a stronger sky than me, strongest I’ve met. Equal in strength to my son. I should have seen this coming.”

“I swear didn’t try to-”

“I know”, the Master says. “Chen-er did, and he should have known better, but what is done is done. Now we will have to mitigate the damage. Langya Hall has been neutral for generations, and Chen-er will be the master after me. You will swear an Oath that the bond between you, should it form-” when it forms, lingers between them- “will be a secret. You will tell no-one of it. The outside world will not be allowed to think that Langya Hall is an extension of Da-Liang.”

“Of course, Master. Your disciple will not involve Lin Chen in any matters of court.”

“You will not be able to avoid it. Your lives will be tied together, and he will pay more attention to events in Da-Liang because of it. Favor them, even.”

Lin Shu bows again in acknowledgment, not knowing what to say. He hasn’t read anything on flame bonds yet, just the different types of flames and their common uses. He suspects this will change after this.

Lin Chen has chosen him. It’s an enormous honor. But also – what does it even mean, in practical terms?

“You’ve probably heard all kinds of nonsensical tales about bonds”, the Master continues. Lin Shu takes notice of his tone and settles in for a long lecture. “Discard all of it. Most of the common beliefs are misconceptions, and the few that hold some truth are oversimplifications. There are as many types of bonds as there are people. Some of them are shallow enough that they fade as soon as the bonded leave the same room, some last lifetimes.”

You were hoping ours would fade if I left, Lin Shu thinks, and feels a surge of possessive triumph. Clearly Lin Chen had convinced his father that it wouldn’t, and in this Lin Shu trusts Lin Chen's judgment over anything else.

“Bonds between equals”, the Master's glare makes it very clear that had better be what they were, “are at least as common as those between a master and a subordinate. Bonds are not restricted for a sky and his elements, either. Elements will also bond with each other.

“Some bonded can feel each other across countries, can walk in each others dreams and see through each others eyes. Most only report a feeling of constant presence with them, and gain no other powers with it.”

That’s not us, Lin Shu thinks, but can’t tell where the certainty comes from. Still, he is sure. They’d be more than that.

For the rest of spring, nothing changes except that Lin Chen takes over some of the lessons. He’s been flame active for years – multiple flames, with mist barely overpowering sun and cloud, and a generous dash of lightning and rain in the mix as well. With a sky for a father, it isn’t as extraordinary as it would have been otherwise. (It’s still impressive. Lin Shu knows that as a sky he technically holds all those flames as well – sky is a composite flame made of all the six elements of sky – but he doesn’t know how to call on them individually. He’s seen the Master do it, though, and he vows to learn.)

Even outside of Lin Chen's practical flame demonstrations and lectures, they continue spending almost all of their time together. Studying together, exploring, getting into mischief. It is always a good time, and freeing in a way that Lin Shu has rarely known. There are far fewer rules and limitations in Langya Hall than at his home in Jinling, or anywhere he’s ever been. As long as they’re on track with their studies he and Lin Chen can come and go as they please. The Master shakes his head at them, but doesn’t try to interfere with them any longer.

Lin Shu hasn’t felt lonely since they met.

Over a month into his stay Lin Chen extends a hand, summons all his flame into it and offers it to Lin Shu. “Feel it”, he commands, and Lin Shu sticks his hand into the steaming flame. It doesn’t burn him, or hurt him at all, though he knows it could. It just feels like Lin Chen. Self-assured, curious, persistent, loyal yet with a wide independent streak. That’s what it feels like.

Lin Chen withdraws the flame, then presses one hand against Lin Shu's chest. “Feel it here?”

Lin Shu closes his eyes. There is something there, an ephemeral wisp wrapped together with his own core. He grasps it with his own flame and it pulses, molds and twist even closer into it. Lin Chen's hand trembles for a moment.

“That’s you”, Lin Shu says. It is not a question. “Is there – do you have some of my flame as well?”

Lin Chen takes Lin Shu’s hand and brings it to his chest. Lin Shu can feel it – a tiny ember of his own strength under Lin Chen's skin, suffusing him entirely.

“What can we do with it?” Lin Shu murmurs, presses even closer as though they could meld into one.

“We’ll find out”, Lin Chen breathes.

As the spring turns into summer, the Master finally starts teaching Lin Shu how to draw on and control his flame.

“Once you know how to get it out when you want it”, the Master says, “you’ll need at least as much training in how to keep it in when you don’t want it. Among flame users it is the height of rudeness to wave your flame out all the time. It might be construed a threat, or in the case of skies, trying to claim what isn’t yours, whether territory or people. Only in your own territory and among your own people should you ever relax your control and let it do what it will.”

Lin Shu works hard on it for the month, and by the end of it he feels like he’s been taught every single type of meditation there is. But it also has the side benefit of enhancing his flame senses. Most of the people are tiny flickers and sparks and he can barely sense them even in the same room, but those that are active he can feel several rooms over. He can feel Lin Chen all the way from the village down in the valley. (He bets this is how Lin Chen always avoids his pranks these days, and always knew when he approached even when they first met. He wonders what he feels like, to Lin Chen.)

When the Master leaves for his next trip, Lin Shu still doesn’t know how to actually use his flame for anything. He knows sky flames have the property of harmony, and he’s seen the Master use it occasionally. To shift through data and find the one thing out of place, to enhance his abilities to a supernatural level, to sweep a patients body and find the things out of alignment. But he doesn’t know how to do any of it.

Especially that second one, enhancing his own abilities, sounds very nice. If he could do that no assassin would ever be a threat again. He might even impress Meng-dage when they next meet!

(He thinks he knows what that whole thing with Meng-dage was, now. They are compatible, could bond, but the situation wasn’t ideal enough that it would have happened just like that. Perhaps they weren’t quite on the same wavelength about it, or they didn’t spend enough time together, or something (Meng-dage serving under Lin Shu’s father, or perhaps the nine year age difference) complicated the relationship too much. They were compatible, but something was off.)

While the Master is away, Lin Shu and Lin Chen experiment with their bond and their flames. They find out that Lin Chen in very adept at using his flames on Lin Shu, and Lin Shu can fuel Lin Chen's flame creations and effects (mist illusions, cloud-propagated items and so on) with his own flames without effort. Their pranks and mischief reach new heights, with Lin Shu spending entire days hyped up on Lin Chen's sun-activation, unable to stop the frantic energy coursing through his muscles and making his mind race at lightning speed, or doped up in his rain-tranquility, relaxed and calm and unable to get worked up about anything. Lin Shu can’t wait until he can do the same things himself.

“Can you teach me?” He asks Lin Chen on one night, as they lie out under the stars. There’s still lingering traces of Lin Chen’s lightning in Lin Shu's system, and it makes him feel too on edge to sleep.

“You’re so bothersome”, Lin Chen complains. He has one arm thrown over his eyes, and his feet are buried under Lin Shu's knees. “I haven’t had a moment’s rest since you came here.”

“You’re the one who approached me first”, Lin Shu says. He means to sound teasing but can’t help the fondness in his voice.

“Ugh, fine”, Lin Chen says, rising up on one elbow, though he immediately flops against Lin Shu's shoulder. “This is the payment for that mistake, I suppose. So. Everyones flames combine in their natural state, even if skies are the only ones where result is more than the sum of its parts, so to say, so everyone who has more than one flame needs to learn how to control which one they summon. These days it’s instinctive for me but in the beginning I had to find the right mindset for each flame. That’s where the mantras will be useful.”

Lin Shu nods. He’s come across them in his readings – a four-character description of each flame type that the Master ordered him to memorize. Sky-bonds-comprehension-harmony was the one he was ordered to contemplate when meditating on his flame. He still needs it sometimes, to summon the warm, deep glow of his flames.

“You’re very well balanced, flame-wise, so I suppose it doesn’t really matter where we start. Pick one. Except storm, since that I don’t have.”

Lin Shu shrugs. “Let’s go with… rain.” He’d thought it would be extremely helpful in emotional control. He knows he can be brash.

“Rain-purpose-empathy-tranquility then. That means that for rain, you should meditate on your feelings. Acknowledge them. Feel them. But do not react to them or control them, just let them go. In the calm you find there, you will find rain.”

Lin Shu nods and meditates as Lin Chen falls asleep against his shoulder. A lot of the things he feels that night are about Lin Chen.

He hasn’t succeeded yet when the sun rises, but even that feels fine. He’s willing to take his time. That, in itself, is new and wonderful.

Chapter Text

Lin Shu leaves before winter, when the Master says he knows enough to not be a danger to himself or others. Lin Xie will soon be returning to the capital himself, and Lin Shu is meant to return with him to avoid raising too many questions about his absence. Langya Hall is neutral, and the Master doesn’t want anyone to assume otherwise. (Lin Shu also gets the impression that his father is just as hesitant to reveal the connection, though the reason for this he can only guess at.)

He’s learned a few uses for his flames, though he still requires practice. Among them are plenty of healing applications, because Lin Chen knew Lin Shu was heading for battlefields and Lin Chen can be quite protective of him. And he can summon all the individual flames of the sky as well – most of the time. It still doesn’t come instinctively to him, and his mood affects the results.

Lin Chen travels with him all the way to the Chiyan army, but then they separate. Lin Shu hates it, but they both have their duties, and they will find reasons to see each other again. A small piece of Lin Chen's flame burns in his chest, and he will know how Lin Chen is no matter how far apart they are. They are part of each other now.

Lin Shu feels much more settled in himself than he has ever been. That feeling stays even after Lin Chen leaves and shows in every interaction he has. His loves his father and obeys him, but it lacks the urgency of before. He feels less eager to please and more willing to stand up for himself. His center, his heart, is elsewhere, safe and sound.

When he sees Meng-dage again, he scoots in for a hug and doesn’t feel self-conscious at all. Meng-dage has been a mentor and a friend for a long time, it’s only weird if they make it so.

Meng-dage looks moved, though, and Lin Shu makes fun of him for it, but gently.

By the time the army reaches the capital Lin Shu has three flame bonds, but only one official guardian. Lin Shu has kept his word and hasn’t mentioned Lin Chen to anyone. With Meng-dage they’ve made a mutual decision to keep their bond quiet. Meng-dage has gotten a message that it is time for him to be transferred to the imperial guards. If the Emperor knew he was also a guardian, it might make Meng-dage seem less trustworthy, or else make the Emperor cross that Lin Shu has poached the most promising recruit the imperial guards have seen in living memory. No reason to let that happen, when Meng-dage is perfectly happy to join the guard and stay home in the capital.

The one bond the public is going to know about is to an officer from good family named Wei Zheng, who went active during their last campaign. Wei Zheng doesn’t want to be recruited to the imperial guards for the rest of his life, he wants to serve out his time in the army and then return home to marry his sweetheart. They hope the guardianship will make him ineligible for imperial guards, regardless of flames.

Lin Xie sends word ahead, informing the court of Lin Shu's activation. They’re welcomed in Jinling with fanfare and celebrations.

There has not been a Sky in Jinling for decades. The Ministry of Rites digs up rituals and celebrations meant for the occasion which few people still living have seen. In private Jingyan rolls his eyes at Lin Shu, saying that he has a big enough head already. Lin Shu laughs and takes every opportunity to show off his flames, what little he has had time to learn during those months. Since his studies at Langya Hall are not publicly known, his reputation as a prodigy gains even more fuel.

No matter how much Lin Shu loves being the center of attention, seeing Jingyan and Nihuang is of course the best part of being back in Jinling. They fit together like puzzle pieces, all of them clever and passionate and full of life. They spar and explore and make up elaborate daydreams about serving together in the future, bringing glory to Da-Liang. Jingyan is the oldest and most responsible, grounding Lin Shu and Nihuang, and Lin Shu is most carefree, dragging Jingyan and Nihuang out to have fun amid all their responsibilities. Nihuang is the youngest but also the most sensible and insightful of them, not to mention clever enough to keep up with them despite the age difference. Lin Shu doesn’t know what he’d do without them.

The days in pass, with nine in ten officials visiting Lin manor regularly to pay their respects to the new sky, and commoners on the street bowing and scraping to him even more than usual. It’s easy to see how that would go into his head, or someones head anyway, but luckily Lin Shu has plenty of sensible people in his immediate circle to associate with.

Nie Feng-dage takes him to Xuanjing Bureau every few days to train with the senior officers there. They are all flame active – it’s part of how the director of the bureau chooses his disciples. Lin Shu also makes time to meet Meng-dage regularly in the name of training, drags Wei Zheng with him everywhere until they are almost synonymous, and writes long, rambling letters to Lin Chen at least once a week. The pidgeons Langya Hall uses as messengers become commonplace in the Lin manor.

A month into his stay in Jinling his parents call for him. They sit down in a pavilion that offers no way for anyone to approach without being seen, and his mother manages to dismiss all the servants without making it obvious. Lin Shu admires her subtlety and poise.

His mother, Grand Princess Jinyang, is fierce and elegant, a sly smile compared to his fathers hearty laugh. People may say that Lin Shu takes after his father, but there is plenty of his mother in him as well.

Theirs was an arranged marriage, but they are well-matched regardless. Perhaps they would have chosen differently given a chance, Lin Shu doesn’t know. But they’ve grown intertwined, like a pair of braided roses, their thorns interlocking and protecting their union.

They take their time, pouring tea and chatting about nothing. Lin Shu prepares for them to ask about his stay in the Langya Hall – what else could be this secret? But instead his father informs him he’s going to the western border.

“I know you just came back”, his father says, “but they need reinforcements, and you need for things in Jinling to calm down. When you return, you must not let it get this out of hand. I know you’ve dreamed of this. Every child does, I think, those from military families such as us even more so. And children from the royal family – perhaps even more than us.”

Lin Shu blinks and takes this in, listens to what his father isn’t spelling out. Did the Emperor dream of being active, when you were children?

“An active sky in the royal family”, his mother whispers, “is almost always the next Emperor.”

I wouldn’t do that! Lin Shu thinks. Even if he is the Emperor's nephew, of the royal line even if only on his mothers side, he’s never thought of wanting the throne. Who would? No matter the power, it can’t compare to the thrill of combat, to the virtue of protecting the country, to the freedom of life outside the palace. Besides, the Emperor has plenty of sons, the Emperor has Qi-wangxiang – whom Lin Shu still calls Jingyu-dage inside his head – his talented, virtuous eldest. Jingyu-dage is meant for the throne, everyone knows it.

The Emperor wasn’t meant for the throne, Lin Shu remembers. It isn’t talked about, but he still knows – the Emperor took his throne by force, with the aid of Lin Xie and the Chiyan army. Lin Shu wonders, for the first time, if the Emperor resents Jingyu-dage's popularity. If he’ll grow to resent Lin Shu's own popularity, which isn’t a new thing, even if recent events have made it even more intense than before.

His mother sweeps her sleeves aside elegantly, piles more snacks on Lin Shu's plate. “Do you remember when the engagement between you and Nihuang was announced?” Lin Shu nods, and his mother continues. “It was quite sudden, wasn’t it? Did you ever wonder why?”

This time he shakes his head. It had been around the time he’d joined the Chiyan properly. His father had taken him along before, made him run messages and shadow him in strategy meetings. But it had been his first real taste of responsibility. He thinks he can be excused for focusing his attention on the army.

“Your great-grandmother got the idea, after seeing how close you two were. She approached Nihuang's parents first, and they loved the idea. They want Nihuang to join a family who will appreciate her considerable talents, and not stifle her. After that, how were we supposed to say no?”

“Don’t mistake us”, Lin Xie said, “Nihuang is wonderful and we are lucky to have her. But we did wonder if it would be better for stability at court to refuse the engagement. Yet in every way you two are a perfect match – and if she had married someone else, who knows if you could ever have seen her again?”

“My imperial brother is not very pleased with us”, his mother says. “It was a surprise for him. Even with grandmother championing us, we did not trust he would support us if we didn’t present him with a done deal. We knew it might anger him, and it did, but he could not offend Nihuang's family lightly. Though Nihuang is a lady with a brother, and is not going to inherit Yunnan or its troops, the power of her family is not to be underestimated.”

Lin Shu nods. The Mu and the Chiyan are the two strongest armies in Da-Liang. If they combined their efforts, they could rival all the other armies put together. But he knows his father is loyal, this he has never held in doubt, so he hasn’t quite thought throught of what that means for their engagement.

“That is good protection for both you and Nihuang”, his mother continues. “Even if things at court get unstable, it’s very unlikely that anyone would risk upsetting both our house and the house of Mu. But my imperial brother does not like so much power converging in so few hands.”

“Do you – expect things to get unstable?” Lin Shu asks, unnerved.

His father purses his lips, and his mother occupies her hands with pouring more tea. Neither of them meet his eyes.

“There have been – signs”, his mother says. “The Emperor and Qi-wangxiang clash more than ever. Your aunt Yueyao and aunt Jingyi are both out of favor. There’s been talk of reducing the Chiyan army numbers by a third.”

“A third!” Lin Shu exclaims. Sure, their numbers right now are higher than any other army except the Mu – but that’s because both Chiyan and Mu are border armies, the first lines of defense against any attack. How are they supposed to be the wall that protects Da-Liang if people start ripping stones from the foundation?

“Your cousin is doing what he can to put a stop to those plans”, his father says. “Qi-wangxiang trained under me in Chiyan, he knows how critical we are for Da-Liang. But his power is not quite as stable as it once was.”

“So at this time, we absolutely must not upset my imperial brother”, his mother says. “Are you clear on this point, my little fireball?”

Lin Shu nods, his mind whirling.

The next day, Lin Shu goes out on a ride in the extensive palace gardens. It’s supposed to be a day for fun and easy companionship with his two best friends, a break before he’s off to war once more. But the conversation with his parents weighs on his mind. He wants to talk to them about it – to Nihuang in particular, whose judgment he trusts perhaps even more than his own.

He tries to seem carefree and unworried as he meets up with Jingyan and Nihuang, but of course the two of them can read him as well as anyone can.

“What’s made you so solemn?” Nihuang teases. “Afraid of going to the battlefront once more? If you are, just give your command to me. You can be the pretty princess socialite, and I can lead the troops.”

Jingyan snorts. “I can see it now. Xiao Shu in all your pretty jewelry, shadowing his mother around, and you resplendent in armor.”

Lin Shu scowls at them. “I’ll have you know I’d look fabulous, and be great at it besides.”

“I’m sure you would”, Nihuang smirks. “You’d rule the inner palace from the shadows within a week, I bet. But seriously. What is it?”

Lin Shu flicks his eyes away. They are still fairly close to the more traversed areas of the palace, and there are too many potential ears around. “Just sad to leave so soon, you know?”

Nihuang frowns, obviously sensing the lie, but Jingyan just rolls his eyes at them. “Nihuang, xiao Shu will talk when he wants to. Let it be.”

Nihuang stares at Lin Shu a moment longer, then huffs. “Fine.” She nudges her horse into gallop, adapting fluidly to the horses movement. She always makes riding look completely effortless. Lin Shu and Jingyan hurry after her.

They stop at a familiar riverbank, away from the main paths, and let the horses graze while they pile on top of each other in the shade. Lin Shu's head ends up on Jingyan's thigh, and Nihuang leans against Jingyan's shoulder. “Ugh, you two”, Jingyan complains, “you’re such clingy little children.” But he still shrugs his shoulders so that he can wrap an arm around Nihuang.

“But water buffaloes are herd animals”, Lin Shu says, eyes wide and innocent.

“We’re just providing for your instincts”, Nihuang giggles in agreement.

Lin Shu gazes at them fondly. It would be scandalous if anyone saw – their lack of personal space with each other might have been acceptable as little children, but they’re almost of age. These days they mostly have to act with decorum, especially with Jingyan. Can’t be seen disrespecting a prince and all that. So they take these moments when they can.

“So, Lin Shu-gege?” Nihuang asks, reaching with a blade of grass to tickle his nose. “You look almost as serious as his highness here.”

Lin Shu recounts the conversation with his parents. The other two listen attentively, and as he finishes, Nihuang gets right into the heart of the matter.

“So, what are we worried about here? That the Emperor will break our engagement off? That he’ll post you permanently somewhere remote, away from all centers of power? That he’ll come down on your family as a preventative measure, to keep you in line? That people will spread rumors about you to make the Emperor worried and drive a further wedge between you?”

Lin Shu shrugs. “All of it?”

“You two are paranoid”, Jingyan scoffs. “What does this matter? Father knows you. Maybe he’ll keep his eyes and ears open, because there’s a chance someone might try to use you as a rallying point regardless of what you want. But he won’t turn on you just for that.”

Lin Shu and Nihuang exchange glances. Jingyan is not close with his father, but he is a filial child. Which is good, of course. But it also means people are extremely careful they don’t even hint at the Emperor's faults in front of him, and that leaves him with some blind spots.

“Look at it this way”, Nihuang says, “there’s a ton of stories and legends about skies. It’s even more glorified than being an immortal. It’d be really easy to convince people that this is a sign of heaven's mandate moving to Lin Shu-gege's line, maybe even say that the Emperor only won the throne because of them and the mandate was theirs all along. Right? So it doesn’t really matter if Lin Shu-gege does anything, he’s already a source of unrest. And the Emperor will put stability ahead of any familial feelings, so it’s no wonder if he starts to consider Lin Shu-gege a threat.”

Jingyan looks disgruntled and not quite convinced, but huffs in agreement anyway. That’s to be expected – he trusts his father more than Lin Shu and Nihuang do, and one argument won’t change that, but Jingyan is not stupid and won’t argue with making plans even if he thinks them useless. He mostly stays out of it as Lin Shu and Nihuang brainstorm possible things that could happen, and how to deal with them, but occasionally inserts a comment that shows he’s still listening.

Lin Shu goes home feeling lighter. Jingyan and Nihuang have his back, and what more could he want? Also, contingency plans always make him feel better.

Lin Shu pays close attention to things at court in the days before he leaves. When the officials defer for him like they would to a prince, he thinks he sees a flash of suppressed anger in the Emperor's eyes, but it’s gone before he can be sure.

He stays at the western border for six months, and Lin Chen visits him twice during that time. His battalion sees combat eleven times, and Lin Shu absolutely understands why his reinforcements were needed.

He returns to Jinling in the autumn, once things have started to calm down at the borders. He’s just turned seventeen. He comes back to find a third of the Chiyan transferred to other armies and even more tension between his father and the Emperor. His mother is busy trying to mediate between them, so when Lin Shu returns, his mother immediately delegates Yujin to him.

Yujin is the only son of Lin Shu's Que-shushu. Que-shushu is always off somewhere new, and in his absence, the Yan household is reduced to two members; his small and sickly son, too frail to accompany his father on his frequent travels, and his elderly and sickly father, too frail to keep up with a young child.

When Yan Que travels for long he leaves little Yujin at either the Lin manor or the Xie manor. Lin Xie, Yan Que and Xie Yu are old friends, though Lin Shu can’t remember a time when there wasn’t some tension between Xie Yu and the others. He doesn’t know the details, but he knows his mother loathes Xie Yu, and only ever visits her sister at the Xie manor when he’s out on campaign.

(The two Grand Princesses, Lin Shu's mother Jinyang and Xie Yu's wife Liyang, are twins. Lin Shu has often heard his mother reminiscence about their youth, and according to the stories they used to be very close. As close as he and Jingyan, he thinks. He can’t imagine what has driven them apart – he’s sure he and Jingyan would never drift apart like that.)

More often Yujin is left at the Xie manor, which has plenty of children for Yujin to play with. There’s always Bi, Qi and Xu, and Jingrui every other year as well. And the three Zhuo children visit regularly when Jingrui is there. But this time Que-shushu left Yujin at Lin manor, and Lin Shu's mother has been looking after him, taking him to his lessons in the palace, tutoring him at home, making sure he’s well. Lin Shu takes over with some resignation, but he doesn’t envy his mothers task one bit.

Jingyan returns to Jinling from his own assignment a few days after Lin Shu. Lin Shu begs the imperial tutors for a free day, delivers Yujin to his lessons, and rides out to meet Jingyan. They’ve barely spent two months together in the past two years, though they’ve written back and forth often. Lin Shu can feel his flame flare up involuntarily in joy and excitement, feels the urge to rush his horse, to meet Jingyan faster.

He finds Jingyan riding at the head of his men, stands on his stirrups and waves with wide, excited motions. Jingyan lifts his hand in answer. When they’re close, Lin Shu gathers the reins and sits down heavily, preparing for a turn back with them. Wei Zheng has fallen behind, not being as reckless of a rider as Lin Shu, and has already stopped to wait for them, since he’s on the road they’re taking back to the capital in any case.

Then Jingyan falls off his horse, one hand pressed to his chest.

It’s shocking enough that Lin Shu doesn’t even want to laugh. Instead he jumps off his horse before it’s even stopped completely and throws himself on to knees, calling for Jingyan, asking what is wrong, reaching out his hand.

Jingyan lifts up a hand wreathed in sky flames, eyes wide, and without thinking Lin Shu grasps the hand.

Home.

Even Langya Hall does not have any verified sources for flame bonds between skies. Sure, there are legends – usually about Emperors and their generals, but sometimes about great heroes in the jianghu. But they’re either clearly just legends, or from a time and place where there are no primary sources to consult.

Lin Shu didn’t expect this. He sits there, feeling like Jingyans touch has turned the inside of his head into warm, happy goo, until Jingyan's panicked voice finally penetrates his skull.

“Xiao-Shu, what is it? Are you fine? Did I hurt you?”

“No, no”, Lin Shu hastens to say. He withdraws his hand, feels his head clear a bit. “I’m just surprised. You’re a sky, Jingyan!” He rallies, jumps to his feet. “That’s great!”

And though he wants to scream from the rooftops that Jingyan is his (his Jingyan, their harmony, if anyone tried to intrude on that he would rip them apart), he’s had time to consider the situation at court. The Emperor would not be proud that he and Jingyan were close enough to bond instantly. He would be wary of Jingyan having the first loyalty of one of Da-Liang’s strongest armies.

“Lucky for you that I’ve been active for ages already”, Lin Shu rambles, his thoughts racing in circles. “I can teach you how to use it! Did you activate it during the campaign, what happened?”

“No”, Jingyan says, rising as well. “Just now when I saw you, I just felt a – tug, I suppose, and there it was.”

Lin Shu wants to hug him so much he feels jittery with it. “Oh, you must have activated it during a fight and not just noticed, I wouldn’t have noticed either if Meng-dage hadn’t been there, you know?” he fabricates.

Jingyan eyes him but doesn’t disagree. Lin Shu widens his eyes a bit, like he would when they were kids and he needed Jingyan to play along with his alibi. He knows Jingyan will, at least until he can confront Lin Shu about it in private.

Skies can sometimes make extremely compatible people become active just through their presence, especially if they are close to activating anyway. But this, Jingyan going active from just seeing Lin Shu, is still too much for anyone to guess.

And a good thing too.

Lin Chen will want to know immediately, Lin Shu thinks, feeling slightly hysterical.

The celebrations for Jingyan activating as a Sky last even longer than those for Lin Shu. It is frustrating for them both. The Emperor seats Jingyan at the best places in every feast and boasts of him at every occasion. His brothers try to court favor with him, and every single court official or high-ranking family want to meet him. Everyone seems to hope Jingyan would take their son or daughter as his guardian, even when the youths in question have no hope of activating their flames.

Jingyan hates the attention but bears it with a dignified, if stiff, patience. Lin Shu bears it less gracefully on the inside, feeling resentful of all the people hogging Jingyan's time and worried that the Emperor might develop doubts about Jingyan's loyalty. But he keeps it in and acts cheerful. Sometimes he feels Jingyan's fond exasperation with him, and the act becomes more truthful for a while.

For once, bringing Yujin with him everywhere is a blessing. He bribes Yujin to wander off, interrupt conversations or eavesdrop on people at a signal from him. This gets him an easy way to duck in and out of the celebrations whenever it pleases him, and plenty of gossip to bring back home to his mother.

His mother has ordered Lin Shu to not draw too much attention, to seem harmless and uninterested in the events at court, and babysitting his younger cousin helps with directing perceptions as well. Though Yujin is eleven now, he could still pass for an eight- or seven-year-old, and though he’s never been excluded from any lessons the other royal-and-royal-adjacent children have, he has trouble keeping up with others in the more physically demanding subjects like martial arts. It makes him easy to overlook and even easier to underestimate.

When the celebrations wind down, Lin Shu can finally get to the business of teaching Jingyan more about flames. Lin Shu digs through the imperial libraries and finds as many of the texts he had read at Langya Hall as he can. Then he starts Jingyan on the meditation practices.

Summoning his flames is easy and instinctive for Jingyan – it is the one thing he’s ever learned faster than Lin Shu. Soon he is better than Lin Shu at using his flames.

Lin Shu throws dramatic, half-true tantrums and laments the unfairness. Jingyan rolls his eyes a lot.

And before a month has passed from Jingyan's return, a message arrives from Yunnan. Nihuang has activated sky flames as well, and is arriving to Jinling in days.

“How much do you want to bet we bond with her too?” Lin Shu asks Jingyan.

“No bet.”

”I think we’d better see her in private as soon as possible, before we accidentally see her in public.”

So they ride out to escort Nihuang to Jinling. Nihuang fits into their bond without issue, like it was meant to be. Lin Shu can’t regret it, not when it feels so right, even though it makes it even more crucial to keep their bond secret. Now Jingyan has potentially two of Da-Liang's strongest armies at his beck and call. Not that Lin Shu and Nihuang are any more subordinate to Jingyan than they had been before – their bond is that of friends and equals. But it would not appease the Emperor to know that.

So they don’t tell anyone. The Heavens have bestowed three strong skies in the court that has been devoid of them for decades, and none know that they are even more miraculous than that.

Nihuang learns to use her flames methodically, and has excellent control from the start. She is the most versatile with her flames. Lin Shu still has trouble calling on a specific part of his flame.

“We haven’t found the right method for you”, Xia Dong-jiejie tells him. Lin Shu is sitting on the sidelines, watching as Dong-jie trains Nihuang and moodily flicking sparks from his fingers. “Jingyan was instinctive and didn’t really need to be taught. Nihuang learns very intentionally and works hard at it. Neither of these seem to suit you. What haven’t we tried yet?”

Lin Shu thinks on it for the next days, but arrives nowhere. To calm his frustration he digs out his qin; not the only instrument he plays, but the one that he finds needs most of his concentration, and therefore is best at forcing him to focus.

He tunes the instrument and picks a piece of music meant to soothe and cleanse the soul. ‘The Joy of Peace and Tranquility’ rings through the gardens, gentle as water flowing down a stream.

He picks another piece after that, one that is passionate and demanding. Then a steady beat with the occasional spark of unexpected motion. Then a rhythm that builds and builds into a crescendo that envelops the listener like a whirlwind. Then a determined beat, fast and almost uncontrollable, that makes sparks dance among his racing fingers.

Last, he makes up a melody, something creative and new, something beguiling and secretive.

Rain. Storm. Lightning. Cloud. Sun. Mist.

He thinks he knows what his way is, now.

Lin Shu's Que-shushu returns to the capital right before winter starts. Que-shushu always visits Lin manor within a day or two of his return, but this time he calls on them straight from his travels. He doesn’t come to greet his son, who is getting tutored in his classics that evening. Instead Que-shushu and Lin Xie hole up in the study.

Yujin is fidgety, glancing up at every sound, obviously waiting for his father to come pick him up. Eventually Lin Shu gives up on the classics, and uses this time to practice his music, since it’s useful and also the easiest way to keep Yujin entertained. Later a servant comes to summon him to greet Que-shushu, and he leaves Yujin with his dizi and instructions to not make a mess of his rooms.

One of his fathers right hand men stands guard outside the study door. It makes Lin Shu wary. But Que-shushu rarely meddles in politics, so he cannot think of what they’ve been discussing that needs to be so secret.

Lin Shu enters and bows to his respected uncle. “Greetings, Que-shushu. Father commander.”

“Sit”, his father says, gesturing to the free pillow on his side. “Your Que-shushu has a request of you, which you will listen to, but we do not know how reasonable it is. It is flame-related, and neither of us are active.”

Lin Shu nods and sits down. Que-shushu is wise and knows as much about flames as any non-active person, having cultivated his own inner strength through taoist practices. He fully expects the request to be feasible.

“I’ve been in correspondence with an old friend”, Que-shushu says. “He is a scholar and a doctor, and I’ve described my sons symptoms to him throughout the years. He thinks it is a wasting sickness that will get worse with time. Even if he is not dying today, or even this year, he does not expect Yu’er to live a long life. A skilled flame-healer might help him, he has said, but this healer would need to work on Yu’er every day to counteract the sickness, and Yu’er would relapse as soon as the healer left. We have kept that in mind, but tried to find a better solution while there still is time for it.

“I have researched medicine, but none of it has worked. The only thought we have had is that if Yu’er becomes active, and his flame type is suitable, he might be taught to keep himself healthy. Then he might live a normal life, and only relapse if he accidentally used too much flames on other things. But the most common way of becoming active is right at the moment when you’re about to die, and I’ve not wanted to risk killing my son for the small chance of activation. I’ve taught him all the meditations I know, but they haven’t made any difference as far as I’ve seen.

“But then, a year ago, my friend sent me a message which gave me hope. A sky that already has a close bond with someone, and is compatible with them, can sometimes activate their flames simply with the weight of their presence. Of you, Jingyan and Nihuang, Yujin knows you best and is most fond of you. Would you try to activate his flames on purpose?”

How can Lin Shu say anything but yes? He cautions Que-shushu that he’s less advanced with his flames than Jingyan and Nihuang, and that this is new ground for any of them. Que-shushu assures him that should Lin Shu fail, he’ll approach Nihuang next. But they intend to keep this quiet, in order to not give ideas for anyone else. Lin Shu shudders; he can just imagine what kind of pressure the three of them would be under if people at court thought they could activate other people at will.

When Lin Shu returns to his room, Yujin is where he left him, though looking forlornly at the qin placed on a high shelf, out of his reach. Lin Shu looks at the brat and feels overwhelmed – he has absolutely no idea how to go about this. But he has agreed, and the cause is important, so he will do his best. He is prepared to spend every moment of the next months with Yujin, if need be, even if he was looking forward to his free time without Yujin just an hour ago.

“You won’t be leaving today after all”, Lin Shu says, and turns his gaze away so that he won’t see Yujin's face fall. He knows it’s happening anyway – Yujin is packed already, and has been asking for updates on his fathers return ever since Que-shushu's letter arrived a week ago.

“There is something your father wants me to teach you”, Lin Shu continues. “I wish he had left word, so we could have started already when I came back to Jinling, but no matter.”

After a moment, he can hear Yujin take in a deep breath, and knows Yujin has gathered himself back together. Lin Shu turns back to Yujin, then, and takes a seat next to him. “Well, aren’t you curious at all what you’re going to be taught?”

“Shu-gege”, Yujin whines. “My head is already full, if you try to stuff anything more in it’ll just pour straight back out! And my hands and feet are tired from trying to keep up with you, and I’ve got bruises on my bruises from Dong-jie's lessons! Take pity on your poor student, he is not capable of anything more!”

“If you learn this one thing, I promise you’ll be the envy of all the kids. When Jingrui comes back again, he’ll be so impressed he’ll bow down to you on the street.”

At this, there is a tiny spark of interest in Yujin's eyes. Lin Shu hides a smile. “It’s not true”, Yujin says. “You’re just trying to get me to work harder.”

“Sure it is true! Would your Shu-gege lie to you? Besides, they can both be true – Jingrui will be impressed, and I want to get you to work hard.”

“But I always work hard, Shu-gege!”

“You can never have too much motivation.”

Yujin pouts at him. “Fine. What is it?”

“We’ll try to activate your flames! Your father thinks it’ll improve your health. Think on that, you could go from the last in Dong-jie's lessons to her best student!”

Yujin makes a theatrical shudder. “And have her eye on me even more? No thanks!” But he’s leaning forward now, curious and eager. And if there’s a brittle edge in Yujin's eyes, Lin Shu graciously does not comment.

He tries to imagine how the Master, or Lin Chen, would approach this and resolves to write both of them that same day. He takes Yujin's wrist, trying to feel for any energy under his skin. When there is no success, and Yujin starts to get too fidgety, Lin Shu tells him to go and find his mother, who loves doting on Yujin, and goes to seek out Que-shushu.

He tries the same thing with Que-shushu, asking Que-shushu to circulate his inner energy in different ways and thinking on how it feels. After a few sessions Lin Shu is fairly sure Que-shushu is a rain/cloud mix. The rain part was very expected – Que-shushu is always calm and purposeful in anything he does – while the cloud makes sense in retrospect, what with Que-shushu's wandering and independent lifestyle.

Satisfied with his results for now, Lin Shu hunts down all the soldiers he knows to be talented with their inner energy, and tries the same trick on them. It becomes increasingly difficult as his subjects skill with it decreases, but Lin Shu starts getting the hang of it. The next evening he is ready to try it on Yujin again.

Through a lot of trying and grounding himself with music and trying again, he decides Yujin is a sun/rain mix. This is good news in that sun is absolutely the best flame for healing, which means this whole thing might work. He starts Yujin on the sun-mantra (sun-interest-persistence-activation) which Yujin memorizes easily, and meditation, which Yujin has clearly been taught but finds impossibly boring. After several days of Lin Shu snapping at Yujin when he can’t seem to concentrate, they settle on a moving meditation that incorporates katas into it, which Lin Shu decides is just as well. Sun is an energetic flame, of course you should move while trying to activate it.

After a few days he teaches Yujin the rain-mantra as well, just in case. Yujin isn’t just a sun, after all, and he doesn’t know if trying to activate just the sun might even be possible.

Sun and rain. Interest and persistence, purpose and empathy. He tries to incorporate these ideas in the practice he has Yujin do, making Yujin follow and mirror his own movements and giving him purposeful tasks to accomplish. They play weigi and music, things which both require concentration and which Yujin finds interesting. And after each session he takes Yujin's wrist and flares his own flame, trying to call Yujin's flame to the surface.

He eventually returns to most of his routine, except with his tiny cousin following him anywhere. It’s hardly the first time he’s been co-opted into a babysitter, so no-one finds it strange. The only odd thing is that Que-shushu is actually in the city, but Lin Shu explains that Que-shushu is busy with his studies, and everyone responds with bemusement but no surprise.

Yujin is often uncharacteristically quiet when they return to Lin manor, and when it happens for the third day in row, Lin Shu decides it should be addressed. He waits until they retire for the evening, when he can slip into Yujin's room and trust that they won’t be disturbed.

“What troubles you, Yujin?” When he can see Yujin making up something, he lifts his hand. “Don’t bother with that. I’ll know.”

When Yujin still doesn’t say anything, Lin Shu changes tactics. “Are you worried about… nightmares about the grasshopper we saw today?” It surprises Yujin enough to startle him out of his brooding, so Lin Shu continues. “What? Grasshoppers can be pretty scary, no? Okay, if not that, then… Did Xu’er say something to you? Will we need gag him again?” Which he absolutely has done before, when Xu’er has been a brat.

The memory brings a smile out of Yujin, so Lin Shu preserves.

“Did you accidentally eat a bird when climbing the tree this morning? Do we need to go and steal pastries from the kitchen to get the taste out of your mouth?”

He continues with more and more ridiculous guesses, slips a few more serious questions among them for contrast and actual information. Yujin relaxes slowly when Lin Shu doesn’t confront him head-on, until Yujin is ready and the problem explodes out of him with force.

“Father is never here, it’s like he’s running away. And now he spends all his time at home in the laboratory as well. I never see him. Jinghuan says I’m too weak to uphold the noble name of the Yan family. Is that why-”

So it is about Que-shushu. Lin Shu thought it might be. He thinks he can understand, a bit. Lin Xie has been off guarding the borders more than he has been at home for most of Lin Shu's life. Yan Que is much the same way, if for different reasons, but Yan manor doesn’t have a mother or a constant stream of doting visitors, just Yujin's old grandfather and an occasional scholar coming to pay him his respects. Lin Shu's aunts in the palace love to have him over, while Yujin's aunt, the Empress, is estranged from her brother and has never paid much attention to Yujin. Both of the Grand Princesses dote on Yujin, but they have their own children and responsibilities – Lin Shu's mother manages a military household and all their troops and servants, while aunt Liyang has all that plus four children of her own.

Que-shushu is the only parent-figure Yujin has all to himself, and he is almost never around. Lin Shu knows Que-shushu loves Yujin, but if he doesn’t show it, if he’s never around, what good does telling that to Yujin do? It would just make Yujin feel guilty about wanting more. He doesn’t want Yujin to feel it’s unfilial to wish for his father’s attention.

“If someone thinks you aren’t good enough, then either you need let them have their mistaken presumptions, or you need to get good enough to show them up”, Lin Shu proclaims, making up his mind. “Get up”, he commands, and Yujin's eyes widen in surprise. “You have a great ear for music, but your qin playing has fallen behind. We will work on it tonight.”

He herds Yujin to his room and makes Yujin sit on his bed, brings a low table and the qin next to it. He drills Yujin in a new song, one that is cheerful enough to evaporate the sad atmosphere. Yujin keeps sneaking glances at Lin Shu, as if expecting him to sneak away the moment he glances away. Well, Lin Shu has done it before, he has to admit.

When Yujin's eyes start to droop, Lin Shu tells Yujin to have a break and plays the qin himself until he is sure that Yujin is solidly asleep. After that, he draws a blanket over the curled-up boy, moves the qin silently up to its shelf, and makes a little nest out of extra bedding for himself. He falls asleep on one end of the bed, with his back leaning against the wall.

Once, during the night, he wakes up to an indistinct feeling of something being off. Yujin has curled into an even tighter ball, tiny enough that Lin Shu has to reach out and pat the bedding to find him. He’s breathing quickly, but is otherwise completely silent.

Lin Shu curls his fingers into Yujin's hair and hums, tugs softly, until Yujin mumbles something and relaxes. He waits for a while, quietly in the dark, but Yujin seems deeply asleep now, so he goes back to sleep himself. His hand stays on Yujin’s head until the morning.

Next day they take a break, lazing around and stealing treats from the kitchens all morning. Around midday they head out and visit some music stores, where Lin Shu teaches Yujin to judge the quality and craftsmanship of an instrument. On the way home they make a detour to bug aunt Liyang's children for a few hours. Lin Shu rarely subjects himself to the whole brood without at least one shield in the form of Jingyan, Nihuang, Jingyu-dage or even Dong-jie. But with Jingrui out of town, Bi’er is Yujin's closest friend, and Lin Shu judges that his company will do Yujin some good. Bi’er is scrupulous when it comes to the needs of others; if there is a way to cheer up Yujin that Lin Shu has overlooked, he trusts Bi’er to think of it.

That night he swallows his pride and writes a note to Que-shushu, then crumples the first version and writes a new one. He apologizes for not having made any progress yet, but suggests that since Que-shushu is Yujin’s father, he might wish to visit their training sometimes, in case it helps in some way.

It’s not much – Lin Shu isn’t quite brash enough to tell respected Que-shushu how to parent, but at least this way Yujin will know his father hasn’t forgotten about him. That must be better than nothing.

In the following days he teaches Yujin the songs he uses himself to focus on his rain and sun, which finally start making Yujin's inner energy react, even if not activate. Que-shushu shows up a few times, and stays to spend some time with Lin Shu's father or joins them for meals. Yujin is both more nervous and more determined to learn when his father is there, which shows up as more effort but also more mistakes.

The winter snow arrives, and Yujin builds snow forts in the Lin manor training grounds while Meng-dage drills Lin Shu and Wei Zheng on hand-to-hand. Afterwards they join Yujin for a snowball fight, until Lin Shu's mother herds them all inside for hot drinks and fresh pastries delivered from Lin Shu's aunts in the palace. Eventually the others leave. Meng-dage returns home to his wife and Wei Zheng retreats to his room in the same wing of the mansion where Lin Shu lives. Lin Shu thinks on how to change his approach with Yujin. So far he’s been trying to activate Yujin in similar ways as he himself learned in Langya Hall, but for him, the first activation had already been done. He’d already been ‘active’, he just hadn’t known how to use it.

Perhaps Yujin needs a catalyst as well. Not a battle, like Lin Shu had, but – something he wants enough, wants all the way down to his marrow. He thinks Que-shushu might be the key to this, but if Que-shushu training and teaching him hasn’t ever done anything, then Lin Shu doesn’t know what would.

“Shu-gege?”

Lin Shu returns to the present. Yujin is fiddling with his sleeves, staring into the distance. Lin Shu has to blink his eyes a few times to clear them, the image reminds himself so much of himself as a child. They don’t look alike, but he and Yujin have almost exactly the same tells.

“Yes, Yujin?”

“I know I’m not making any progress”, Yujin mumbles, “despite all the time you’ve put in, but I swear I’m trying.”

“Yujin”, Lin Shu huffs, “I know you are, and I know we’ll figure this out. Don’t you have faith in your Shu-gege's teaching?”

Yujin rolls his eyes. “You’re the worst tutor, you always forget to explain things and then get impatient with us because we’re not as smart as you. But you’re trying. I appreciate it. Father wouldn’t be angry with you if you wanted to quit.”

Lin Shu absolutely disagrees with that. Yujin is the only Yan of his generation, the only legacy his family has, and Que-shushu's only child. If Lin Shu truly ran out of ideas Que-shushu would merely be disappointed. If he stopped for any other reason, he couldn’t bear to face Que-shushu for the rest of his life.

But that’s beside the point. Yujin is a brat, and Lin Shu has little patience for most people, let alone a boy six years his junior. But Yujin is family, and Lin Shu is very possessive of his family. And reluctantly fond of the brat as well. He would continue this for Yujin's own sake even if Que-shushu bid him to give up tomorrow.

The thought lights up a warmth somewhere inside him, and Yujin leans back, startled. Lin Shu wonders what it is – are his flames glowing through his skin, or lighting up his eyes? He can’t tell, he feels like every cell of his body is completely focused on Yujin.

He reaches out a hand wreathed in flames, deep orange and wispy, dancing down his arm as if in an invisible wind. Yujin seems frozen in place, like he can’t tear his eyes off them.

Lin Shu places his hand on Yujin's head, focuses on not doing anything. Harmony is a deceptively dangerous attribute, one than can twist minds if used carelessly. He doesn’t want to change Yujin, to fix him this way by force, he just wants to feel.

Yujin is a deep well of loyalty and affection, a bright star that burns and burns, shining light on all who come close. Giving and giving, never demanding anything back. So achingly lonely, in the vast darkness of space.

Lin Shu folds him in his arms. “It’s okay, Yujin. You’re allowed to ask. You’re allowed to want. You’re allowed to demand. You’re allowed to be. Whatever you need. Whatever you want. You’ll always have a place here. You don’t need to be scared.”

Yujin doesn’t respond, doesn’t move, doesn’t make a sound. Lin Shu starts humming a slow, calming tune, and keeps it up until Yujin relaxes.

“Lin Shu-gege”, Yujin says. His voice trembles faintly. “Lin Shu-gege.” And nothing else.

“Yes, Yujin. Yes, didi.”

Yujin's hands, still gripping his sleeves, go white with strain. Lin Shu waits, humming more, until Yujin unfolds his fingers, one by one, and hugs him back.

“You’re good, Yujin”, Lin Shu whispers. He barely knows what he’s saying, but it feels right. “You’re loved. You’re important. You don’t need to do anything for it, you’re already good.”

“But- but I’m not-”

“You have a wonderful ear for music and sharp eyes. You’re good with people. You get Jingrui to relax and Qi'er to laugh and Xu'er to play and Bi'er to take himself less seriously. You make people happy. You don’t need to, it’s not required, you know. But you do, because you care.” There’s a pause, both of them silent and still and breathing deeply, then Lin Shu continues more softly. “You’ll be a credit to the house of Yan, in whatever you decide to do. I know you will.”

Lin Shu thinks long into the night, staying up in the dark, watching Yujin sleep. In the morning he has a new idea.

Yujin needs a better motivation. Something he wants with every cell of his body, something he’d die to achieve. Something he can’t achieve without flames, or thinks so anyway.

Lin Shu and Yujin are very obviously different in many ways – but also similar in others. And if Lin Shu thinks on who he’d die for – the list is not short, but Jingyan and Nihuang are at the top of it.

Jingyan, his often too solemn and serious best friend, who occasionally needs to be dragged out to play and have fun for his own good. And much the same sentence could be used to describe Yujin and Jingrui's relationship.

Jingrui, the child of two families, who spends one year in the capital where Yujin can see him, then one year in the jianghu, being taught their ways. Surely Yujin has wanted to follow him there before.

When they sit down for music practice that evening, Lin Shu tests the waters.

“Jingrui's away year is about halfway, isn’t it? Have you heard from him?”

“He’s sent me one letter, and a few more to aunt Liyang and uncle Xie.”

“Just one? I’ve seen you write him at least two letters in the past month. Have you sent them?”

Yujin shrugs, affecting nonchalance. “Yes.”

“More than he has, huh? I suppose he’s busy, but still. You’ve been busy recently too.”

“I use my calligraphy practice time for writing him, I suppose his Zhuo parents don’t much care for that.”

“Hmm. They’re not savages, surely they know he needs to master all four arts.” The conversation dies away for a moment, then Lin Shu pushes forward. “Have you ever wanted to follow him to jianghu?”

“Sure.”

“I guess Que-shushu wouldn’t let you. Unless…” Yujin glances up at him, and Lin Shu suppresses a smile. “Unless you went active. Why, then he’d practically have to find you a flame teacher, and non-military flame users almost always join the jianghu. Think about it! You could watch Jingrui's back, have adventures in the jianghu with him like our fathers did in their youth. You wouldn’t be too frail to travel with your father either, in fact you would be able to protect him! You could be part of both of their lives even when they’re not here in Jinling.”

Yujin looks – wistful.

“What, you doubt my ability to teach you how to activate? I’m hurt, Yujin! There’s nothing your Shu-gege can’t do. You just wait and see.”

In a few more days, news comes that Lin Shu and Lin Xie are to leave for the northern border soon. Jingyan is leaving for the east coast around the same time, for a diplomatic mission in Donghai, and Nihuang is going back to Yunnan to visit her family. They try to cram as much time together as they can into the last few weeks.

The day before Lin Shu and Lin Xie are to leave for their new assignment, Lin Shu visits the Yan manor and asks to speak with Que-shushu in private.

“How are Yujin's studies? Any progress?” Que-shushu asks.

“They are well. Yujin is a good child, and I’ve left him with plenty to practice on. I do think we’re on the right path, now, and Yujin becoming active is only a matter of time. He knows what to do, but if he requests any help, I know Que-shushu has the skills to assist him.”

Que-shushu nods. “When I am here, of course. But I am leaving myself right after the new year, to visit a taoist temple in the mountains.”

Lin Shu tries to keep his ire out of his face. “Que-shushu is devout and dedicated. There is much to admire in this. And if your studies can help Yujin, that is well. But a child needs more than just a healthy body and a good education. A child needs love and affection, and though we all love him, he is still your son!” Lin Shu takes a deep breath, calms himself. “Yujin is very loyal to you, and I know that if you encouraged him more, he would value it greatly. Please spend time with Yujin while you are still here.”

With that Lin Shu bows and takes his leave, without waiting for an answer. It’s the rudest he’s ever been to Que-shushu, but right now Lin Shu is upset with him.

He says goodbye to Yujin and reminds him to work on all that Lin Shu has taught him. He’s left a present in Yujin's still unpacked things, which he hopes will make up for not being here. They’re expected to stay up north for most of a year, which means Lin Shu will not only miss new years and the spring hunt, he won’t even be home in time for Yujin's birthday. Not that that’s anything new. But he’s taken on a role as Yujin's mentor, now, so he feels bad for it in a way he hasn’t for previous years.

Most of Chiyan has spent the winter garrisoned at the northern line of Ganzhou. Lin Shu and Lin Xie join them, with orders to stay put for now. Lin Shu thinks that the Emperor just wanted them out of Jinling. Lin Xie doesn’t argue with the Emperor – no-one does, except Jingyu-dage. But Lin Xie has been making his silent disapproval of the Emperor's decisions very loud lately.

They’ve only been with the army for a few days when word comes that Da Yu's imperial army has taken Sutai. Da Yu is a militant country, and their imperial army is 200 000 strong. The troops stationed at Sutai would have offered little resistance.

The best place to defend will be at Meiling, but Chiyan has to move fast to make it there in time to fortify their position. Lin Xie sends an urgent report to the Emperor far away at Jinling, and the army moves. Lin Shu scrambles to organize his men and their supplies, and to familiarize himself with the geography at Meiling. His Chiyu battalion is meant to march quickly and arrive at Meiling first and hold it until the bulk of the army can arrive.

He spends the days of travel interrogating those of his men who have fought at Meiling before and making plans for their arrival. Once there, the scouts return to tell them Da Yu has already started arriving. There are already troops holding the southern valley, which is the widest and easiest to traverse. Chiyu is fewer in number and tired from their relentless pace – they cannot oust them by force.

Lin Shu takes a few bodyguards and sneaks up the mountainside with them, using mist flames as cover when necessary. None of the patrols they come across have flame sensitives, which is what lets them past the camps without alarm. Up on the mountain cloud propagates and storm disintegrates, destabilizing the snowdrifts and cliffsides. A mist construction holds back the inevitable avalanche, as they move on and repeat the same again and again.

When they’ve circled the camp, Lin Shu and his men hide. He’s left Wei Zheng in charge of the next part, and trusts his vice-generals to manage it well. As the sun sets he dismisses his mist constructions and listens to the roar of falling snow and rock. When things settle, they start the long trek down the mountainside, and some time after that Lin Shu lets go of his propagated snow and boulders. They had been real enough to bury and crush those of Da Yu who could not defend themselves, but now they are in the way, so he lets them evaporate into nothing.

By the time sun rises and he sets foot in the southern valley, Chiyu battalion has taken it over. Despite his exhaustion, Lin Shu sets to helping his men clear the real snow and rock where the are in the way. They both evaporate just as easily under his storm flames.

Chiyu weathers three days of attacks, including attempts to replicate how Lin Shu took over the valley in the first place. Then the main army arrives and Chiyu withdraws. They are run ragged, but they’ve had surprisingly few losses. There had been only a handful of flame users among the attacking Da Yu troops, and none of them could hold a candle to Lin Shu's strength. But he has been constantly on alert for days, knowing that if multiple flame users attacked, he was their best line of defense.

Chiyu rests for a day, then starts the march to the northern valley. It’s not as convenient as the southern one, being higher up and steeper, too difficult to traverse for horses or supply trains. Though it can’t be used to move huge numbers of troops, it can be used to attack from the flank or sneak a small number of men to their back. They take it over as a precaution, as some other groups have done for other valleys. There are attempts on it for a few days, then they cease.

Word arrives from Lin Xie – Da Yu is gathering for a final, decisive push. The next days will be crucial. There is a plan for Lin Shu to lead his force to attack Da Yu's flank, with Nie Feng doing the same from the other side. That should distract and divide Da Yu's forces during the final attack, and after the quick blow, they have a defensible position at their back to which they can retreat if needed.

Lin Shu takes his troops as close as he dares using the heavy snowfall as cover, and then gathers his flames and covers them in a veil of mist for a short while longer. When the signal comes they fall onto the unprepared enemy with fire, shooting grease-soaked flaming pieces of cloth into their tents.

The Da Yu troops pour out into the cold, some trying to put out the fires, some heading straight for Chiyu. Lin Shu rains arrows down on them with his men, dropping dozens. But then Da Yu soldiers reach his troops, and all else disappears in the midst of the carnage.

Lin Shu fights in the front of his men, flames coursing through his veins. Rock crumbles under his footsteps and armor offers no resistance. He feels his men around him, grabs them with his flames and pulls. They flare into life, like fireflies bursting into candleflames. They follow him with berserk enthusiasm and fierce cries of joy. The enemy falls back in terror.

When the enemy regroups and Lin Shu signals a withdrawal, he has lost a handful of men, but far fewer than it was reasonable to expect. He still mourns their loss, has felt each of them extinguish in his grasp.

They aren’t pursued far. When they reach a good vantage point Lin Shu turns and takes a look at the battlefield.

Some of it is expected – they left the flank on their side in disarray and chaos. The fighting is fiercest at the front, and Lin Shu can feel the men dying all the way from where he stands. But the other side of the army is organized and untouched, fielding reinforcements – which were supposed to be tied up – to the front.

“Where is General Nie Feng?” Wei Zheng asks, vocalizing what Lin Shu is wondering.

“Good question”, Lin Shu says grimly. “Hopefully he’s just late – the terrain in Jiehun valley is treacherous. Perhaps it’s been blocked by an avalanche during last nights snowstorm.”

He casts one last look at the opposing flank. Then he shakes his head to get rid of the lingering bad feeling, posts guards and goes to see what he can do for his men. They have injured, and he has Lin Chen's training in flame healing.

He returns to his vantage point every so often, between pushing through exhaustion to return each and every one of his remaining men to top fighting condition. The battle wavers, first going well, then poorly, then well again. Again and again Lin Shu takes his freshly healed men, brimming with energy and will once more, and they push back into Da Yu's flank. He feels less like a whirlwind of death and destruction now, with his flames almost completely depleted. Now he has to rely on skill and precision, to save his flames for when he really needs them. But though they return every time with fewer men, their morale remains high.

On the third day they tie up enough men that the main army at front can finally reach a decisive victory. Da Yu breaks. There is a rout, and they chase back the fleeing men as long as it’s feasible. Then there’s the grim work of gathering their injured and finishing Da Yu's. Nie Feng still hasn’t turned up.

Lin Shu grabs Wei Zheng's arm, measures his flames. They are depleted, perhaps by half, but already recovering.

Lin Shu can’t leave his command. Barring him, Wei Zheng with his flames is by far their fastest runner.

“Go and head back to the main army, find one of the generals. They must have realized that something is wrong, but they might not know that General Nie Feng failed to arrive at all. If Da Yu managed to take him out and send some of their troops to flank us…”

Wei Zheng nods and goes.

Hours later Lin Shu is kneeling down next to yet another injured, trying to drag up enough sun to heal the gaping wound on his side, when one of his men shouts. He’s up and with a weapon in his hand before he makes out the words.

They’re lower in the valley than the main army is, and their visibility is poor, but there’s clearly more fighting back there. Perhaps Da Yu did manage to send troops through the same route Nie Feng was meant to take, he thinks, and feels a pang of loss. If they’re gotten past Feng-dage, then it’s unlikely he’s still alive.

He posts some more guards – once the Da Yu troops attacking the main army flank turn and run, they’ll come thorough the part of valley Chiyu holds. Lin Shu will finish them off for Feng-dage.

Except the battle seems to continue too long, be too even. But surely his father can not lose to whatever handful of Da Yu troops managed to round the army?

There must be flame users among them, Lin Shu thinks. Not that unthinkable, and even a handful of flame users would be a serious danger to exhausted troops with no defense against them. But Lin Shu is too tired, can’t make it to the main army fast enough to make any difference anyway. Wei Zheng is there, that should count for something. If he concentrates on their bond, he can feel Wei Zheng using his flames. Perhaps he has already joined the fight.

He rests until the scouts alert him of something new. There are troops in Da Liang armor coming out of Jiehun valley. It’s confusing – if Feng-dage is alive, then why is he here only now? And where did the force attacking the main camp come from? Something is wrong.

Lin Shu prepares his men to retreat at the first sign of trouble, sends scouts to get a look at the troops coming out of Jiehun valley. They return with word of the flag those troops carry. It’s one of the smaller armies stationed near this border.

Perhaps the Emperor sent them as reinforcements after receiving fathers message?

But they are supposed to be friendly troops, and so he waits to receive them. When the troops start to round them and surround them, he grits his teeth and makes a choice.

If this is some trap, if Da Yu troops have managed to get a hold of their armor, they can not stay here. If it’s not a trap, then he might be ridiculed for being paranoid later, but it’s unlikely anything worse will come out of it. And so he commands his troops to retreat up back into the northern valley. It’s almost routine at this point.

The army sends a rider out. Lin Shu could hit him with an arrow, itches to arm himself. Doesn’t.

“This is the Feilian army, under command of Xie Yu by the will of the Emperor! Turn over young marshal Lin Shu!”

For a moment, Lin Shu's heartbeat flutters, like the frantically beating wings of a captured butterfly.

“Do you have an imperial edict or a military seal to show me?” He demands, knowing there will be no such thing. But he needs time, time to think. His head is full of fog and he can not afford that right now.

The messenger repeats his demands, Lin Shu parries with his own. After a while the messenger leaves. Lin Shu grabs the arm of one of his sergeants, one with swift movements and talent in martial arts. A man who has proven himself over and over these past days.

“Zhen Ping, take a few men and make for the other end of the valley as swiftly as you can. Try to connect with the main force and find out what’s going on. Go!”

Zhen Ping startles into a run, not even pausing when he gestures a few of his men to follow. Lin Shu shivers, feels a bright burning fear deep in his core.

“We retreat a bit further”, he says to the rest of his men. “Don’t provoke, don’t attack. Just keep them at a distance.”

The army blocks the valley entrance, follows them a bit further in. An hour passes, the wind blows harder. The chill buries deep in Lin Shu's bones, but he reserves his strength. He can feel a storm coming in.

One of the men Zhen Ping took with him comes back, gasping for breath. “We saw – the valley is blocked off – by more – Feilian troops. Zhen Ping will try to sneak past them.”

They’ve already blocked off our best escape, Lin Shu thinks. “Up the valley, quickly. We need to break line of sight with them, then go off-road. Up the mountainside.”

I can keep them warm, he thinks, keep them going with my flames. If we only make it to the main camp…

Another hour goes by. Feilian troops follow them too closely for them to make a clean escape, but there is still hope. It has started to snow, an almost horizontal torrent that beats down on them and makes visibility low. His eyes hurt from the cold. Then Zhen Ping returns, with Wei Zheng with him.

“Young marshal!” Wei Zheng gasps. There’s ice frozen on his cheeks, his eyelashes. He must be running low on flames as well. “The main camp was completely overrun. They’re killing anyone, not taking any prisoners. Your father was specifically targeted, Xia Jiang killed him – I couldn’t defeat him, Marshal Lin ordered me to run -”

A final, futile hope dies in Lin Shu that moment. Xia Jiang is the Emperor's right hand. If he is here, then there is no solving this. He doesn’t feel grief for his father right now; or his fathers officers, many of whom Lin Shu has known all his life; or his fathers soldiers, who only had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. All he feels is an immense weight on his shoulders, a loss so profound it should shatter him on the spot.

They’ll want him too. Xia Jiang, and whoever. They won’t leave without Lin Shu's head.

“Vice general”, he hears his voice say. It echoes oddly in his ears. “Take the men, get them out of here. I might need to trigger another avalanche, and I want all of you out of here before it.”

“Young Marshal-”

“They are your responsibility! Do you understand, Vice General?”

“...yes, Marshal Lin.”

Lin Shu nods. “You’ll take the western slopes. Go up, go fast, cover your tracks if you can. Get out safely and covertly, do not engage unless you’re seen. I’ll go up east.”

With that he breathes out a mist illusion, sapping his depleted reserves. It settles over his men, rendering them invisible to strange eyes, while insubstantial images of them move to follow Lin Shu. He can’t make them solid right now, he is already so empty.

“What are you waiting for? You have your orders!”

Wei Zheng leaves first, ordering the men to follow him. Lin Shu closes his eyes, breathes. He takes off up the western slope himself, keeping an eye on the tracks he leaves. It should look like a lot of men went through and then tried to cover it – otherwise this will not be enough.

The images of his men climb around him, eerily silent. Here is Wei Zheng, pushing forward at the front. Zhen Ping, serious, keeping an eye on the path behind them. Li Gang, holding out a hand to help one of the newest recruits over a ridge.

My men. Mine. Please – don’t go down with me. Please – live.

Lin Shu holds his head high as he climbs among lengthening shadows. Eventually the images start to flicker out, one by one. He thinks they’ve been seen by now, and he has to conserve his strength.

His hair has frozen solid, his fingers and toes go numb. He hopes his men have found shelter, or that Wei Zheng has enough flames to keep them warm. He hasn’t felt cold since he activated his flames, but he’s running so low now.

He thinks of home at Jinling. His rooms, books and scrolls piled on every surface, instruments and weapons both lining the walls. His mother, bright and free, laughing her airy, cherished laugh. Nihuang’s smile, which always makes Lin Shu feel light enough to fly. Jingyan, eyes twinkling with suppressed amusement. His father, grinning from ear to ear.

Darkness falls. The last of the mist illusions fade away. Lin Shu is alone.

He turns and looks down into the valley. The bright spots he can sense are Da Liang's soldiers, just like him. Can he bring himself to kill them, just for following orders?

(Would your father want you to do this?)

But if he doesn’t. If he doesn’t, his mens chances of getting out alive go down. Way down.

He gathers himself. Sits down in the cold snow, hums a melody. A building crescendo.

The snow around him balloons, drifts reaching higher and higher. Just the tiniest push, now.

He slices out with his flames, pulverizing a whole swathe of mountainside. Solid rock crumbles into gravel, settled snowdrifts slide on ice.

He closes his eyes as the avalanche starts. He is so tired.

He rests until he feels a bit like himself once more, then starts climbing again. They know where the avalanche started, they’ll find him. But he has to at least look like he’s trying to escape.

It’s Xie Yu who comes for him. Lin Shu is happy for that, as much as he can feel anything right now. Xia Jiang would have seen through this at once, but he thinks Xie Yu probably won’t.

He forms illusions of some of his men, the most recognizable ones. This time they’re solid, and Lin Shu feels his heart stutter and almost stop as he pours strength into them.

Soldiers surround them, shoot them with flaming arrows, then run them down. Xie Yu slices out with his sword, hacking into solid illusions, until he slices into Lin Shu's stomach. Lin Shu watches his blood on his uncles blade and feels nothing.

Lin Shu can feel his flames trying to drop the illusions, trying to withdraw into his body and heal him. But those illusions are crucial – Xie Yu has to believe his men are dead. Otherwise they’ll have no hope.

The thought brings forth a final, desperate burst of strength. Lin Shu slices into the mountainside once more, can feel men around him stumbling as ground starts moving out from underneath them.

Lin Shu falls among the others, his blood falling in a crimson arc around him. Snow is everywhere, on his skin, inside his clothes, in his mouth and nose.

But he has done everything he could for his men.

His flames finally extinguish. His heart stops. Cold and alone, Lin Shu dies.

Chapter Text

Lin Chen has been feeling off all day. He’s been jittery and lethargic by turns, and in the evening he was hit with an inexplicable exhaustion. Yet his pulse seems normal – if he is coming down with something, it’s not anything he can diagnose. Which should rule out just about anything, but the world is full of strange things.

He retires early, but his sleep is restless and his dreams dark. He gets up in the night, feeling like he hasn’t rested at all but utterly unwilling to waste more time feeling so miserable.

He has barely started the day when it hits. There’s a yank in his core, like his very soul is trying to tear out of his body, and he knows. Lin Shu needs him. Lin Shu is dying.

His knees hit the floor. The howl he lets out is mindless, the pain of a dying beast. Lin Shu has sunk into Lin Chen's bones, and feeling him torn out is like being ripped to pieces.

No, no, no! He needs his sky, his heart. He does not know where the one he yearns for is; all he wants, all he needs, is to see him again. It wouldn't matter to him if he died trying.

His flames flare and he pushes them into their bond. There is a small pull on them at first, then the floodgates open and Lin Chen can feel his flame draining from him. Some part of him knows the speed of it is alarming, potentially fatal, but most of him just rejoices. Lin Shu is still there, fighting for his life, and if Lin Chen drains himself dry, he will at least die knowing he’s given his all to his sky.

He surrenders to that instinct and lets himself be consumed.

When his head clears enough to be aware of his surroundings, he’s on the floor of his rooms, his vision refusing to focus. He feels dizzy, scraped raw and flayed open, drained of all strength.

But his bond with Lin Shu is still there. The relief it brings is overwhelming.

Lin Shu lives still. Lin Chen has to get him.

He struggles to rise to his hands and knees, but gives up when his hands start to shake and just crawls. The door is so far away, takes too long to reach. Needles of pain run up his limbs, along his spine, and his vision flashes. He presses the palms of his hands on his eyes until colors dance behind his eyelids, forces himself to continue.

He has to reach somewhere he will be found. His rooms are isolated, his usual wake-up time still hours away.

When he finally drags himself to a more frequently used footpath, he is shivering with cold and too exhausted to care. His throat hurts when he tries to yell, but he does so anyway until his voice gives out. Then he curls up and shivers until running footsteps find him.

They pick him up and carry him to his father. Hearing their panicked chatter is too much, makes his skin crawl and heart race. He presses his palms to his ears until his father orders them all out. Then he can speak, or at least croak, without feeling his words turn to mush.

He tries to make himself understood but his body keeps failing him, wrecked with shivers, mind blanking out, voice stuttering or just giving out entirely. He hopes his father can glean enough off it. Hopes that when his father leaves in a hurry, it means he is going to find Lin Chen's heart.

Lin Chen curls in on himself like he can protect it that way, but it is not with him – it is buried somewhere cold and dark, nine-tenths dead, dragging Lin Chen down with it.

It starts as a normal day. Servants take Yujin to the palace, where imperial tutors hold their lessons to all the royal children. Yujin's lessons are mostly with Xie Bi and Xie Qi, who are a year older and a year younger than him. They make a good team – Yujin is social, Xie Bi steady and hardworking, Xie Qi is thoughtful and earnest. And if Yujin misses Jingrui, the forthright one of their group – Bi-ge and Qi-mei are almost good.

When they leave their lessons, the palace seems more busy, more chaotic than usual. Yujin takes the opportunity to skulk around while waiting for someone to fetch him, but hears only a few whispers, quickly broken off when anyone approaches.

Yan manor is quiet. Yujin's father has left the city (again), but decreed that Yujin is now old enough to stay home and take care of his grandfather, instead of being taken care of. And so Yujin spends some time reading and discussing his studies with grandfather, until one of grandfathers old scholar friends comes to call.

Yujin withdraws to his room to meditate, but within an hour there is already another quest. And then a third. They all leave looking worried. Yujin grows curious and goes to see his grandfather.

“Grandfather, is something happening?”

“I don’t quite know, Yujin, but there are some troubling rumors coming from the palace.” His grandfather looks disturbed.

That night the Lin manor is seized. All who resist are put to death, the women are confined in the manor under guard, the men are taken to custody. Rumors run rampant, now, but they’re still spoken in whispers. Lin Xie has defected to Da Yu. Lin Xie has died in battle and his son has taken over his army to make his own kingdom. Lin Xie is gathering a rebellion to put his own son on the throne.

Yujin doesn’t believe a single one of them, but something must have happened. No, he corrects himself, something has been happening. He remembers all the furtive, worried comments Lin Shu-gege had made, those months they spent together. Whispered secrets with Jingyan and Nihuang. How he paid full attention as Yujin relayed all he had heard in the palace that day.

If only Shu-gege was here to ask! But if Shu-gege was here, he’d be locked in the celestial prison, so it’s good he isn’t.

Days pass, full of uncertainty. Yujin doesn’t go to his lessons in the palace. Grandfather keeps him home, keeps him close. Shouts for Yujin if he’s too long out of sight. News arrive sporadically if at all. When they come, they’re bad news.

“When is father coming home?” Yujin asks, when they hear Feilian army has been sent to capture Chiyan. Father would know how to solve this.

His grandfather just purses his lips together and doesn’t answer.

When news arrive of Chiyan's destruction, it doesn’t feel real. Yujin goes through the motions all day, without thinking, without feeling. The blow of it hits when he goes to his room for the night and sees Shu-gege's qin, in the place of pride on his bedside table. Yujin has been envious of it for as long as he remembers, but Shu-gege never allowed him to touch it. Until he left it for Yujin with a note, this time when he went away.

Yujin falls without a single sound, stares at it. It’s starting to sink in now, that Shu-gege will not come home. Yujin has been making up a new song, to present to Shu-gege when he returns. But Shu-gege will never hear it. Will never interrogate Yujin on his training, scoff when Yujin whines it’s too difficult or nod approvingly when he makes progress. Not ride recklessly ahead during spring hunt or tie the younger kids to a tree to keep them from following him all the time.

Jingrui always thought Lin Shu knew everything. Yujin had tought himself wiser, more cynical, but in this moment he realizes he hadn’t been far from that himself. It feels unthinkable that Shu-gege wouldn’t – didn’t – survive.

The next day Grand Princess Jinyang carries a sword with her to the palace, refuses to be stopped by any guard or servant. Walks all the way up to the Emperor holding morning court, and in front of all the ministers, slits her own throat. “They say the Emperor was splattered with her blood and had to retire to change clothes”, people on the street whisper. “She did it to bring ill luck on the empire”, some say. “She did it so she can haunt the palace.”

Yujin remembers how aunt Jinyang was in the court, how she was in Lin manor. Sharp but subdued in the one, free and lively in the other. How much she embodied the house she’d married into – loyal and strong and fierce.

Perhaps she did it as the only revenge she could have, but Yujin thinks he can see another motive as well. I won’t come back. You will never lock me up again.

When prince Qi is locked up in the prison, and the whole eastern palace with him, Yujin's grandfather dresses for court despite his frail health. Yujin watches his carriage until it disappears from sight, then goes to sit in front of Lin Shu-gege's qin. Servants run out and bring him news when there are any to be had.

Ministers are imprisoned one by one, corpses pile high in their manors. Every time soldiers march by, everyone in Yan manor holds their breath. Surely Yujin's grandfather is safe? More than half of the officials owe him their jobs. But as those officials and ministers Yujin's grandfather has trained or chosen fall, Yujin becomes less and less certain.

He lights incense on the family shrine, prays fervently into the evening. If only grandfather comes back. If only this nightmare ends. If only everyone he loves survives until morning, there is nothing he wouldn’t give for it.

Sparks crackle on his fingers, pressed together in front of his face. He blinks at them, momentarily distracted, and they disappear. He almost thinks he imagined it. But no – there are tiny burn marks on his sleeves.

He has done what his father wanted, but what use is it now, when their house might not last the night?

But grandfather returns, pale and shaky. He leaves the next day, and every day after that. Returns, each time, frailer than before. Yujin fusses over him when he is home, once or twice tries to suggest he shouldn’t go, but backs out at the last minute. He grows numb to the terror, surrounded by servants who look like they might flee for their lives at any moment. Learns to function while his heart is trying to tear free from his chest and his hands grow heavy and numb.

The spring executions finish everything. The largest executions in Yujin's lifetime. But Yujin is alive, his grandfather is alive – for now. Jingrui has been out in jianghu with the Zhuos, hasn’t been touched by all of this at all. The Xie siblings are better than fine, with their father rising in rank and having the Emperor's ear. They haven’t heard of Yujin's father since the Chiyan case started, but he hasn’t been in Jinling, he can’t have gotten mixed up in this.

He has lost Shu-gege and the entire Lin household, Qi-wangxiang and his household, consort Chen. But the rest are alive. He still has people he loves. People still living under the rule of this Emperor, who ordered his own son to drink poison in a cell, without once seeing him face-to-face. Who sent an army to exterminate his former best friend and nephew. Who, even now, rages in the palace.

Betrayed or the betrayer, who knows? Not Yujin. But he thinks not all who were executed could be guilty. If half the government had been conspiring to rebel, with the aid of Chiyan no less, there would have been more resistance when the Emperor turned on them all.

Will the Emperor turn on Yujin's family as well? So many times during these dark days he’s been sure he would, shaking like a leaf with the fear of it. Still he feels like it must only be a matter of time. Yujin's father was best friends with Lin Xie, saw him more often than anyone else in court. And Yujin's grandfather has been making himself a target.

Shu-ge had motivated Yujin with traveling the jianghu with Jingrui, able to watch his back from swords. But it is not jianghu swordsmen who are the greatest risk to the people Yujin loves. It is the court and its poisonous politics.

Kneeling in front of the family shrine, Yujin decides. Bright fire races along his forearms, shines in his eyes. He will fashion himself into a shield, for Jingrui, for his family. Someone who can be in court and hear all the rumors, defuse all the risks, without being considered a threat by anyone.

Next time Yujin visits the palace, his eyes don’t linger on Chaoyang hall. There wouldn’t be any blood splatter left from aunt Jinyang even if he looked, but he feels like there should be.

The palace is full of gleeful powerplays, the princes and officials that remain gorging themselves on the spoils of this massacre. Yujin watches it and his stomach roils in disgust, but he keeps a friendly smile on his face. He cultivates a mask of a thoughtless, happy child. If anyone would see through it, Shu-gege would be the one to understand without a single word spared or glance shared. But Shu-gege is gone, father is not home, grandfather rarely gets up from bed these days. There is no-one to look closely enough.

Lin Jingyi, concubine Jing, spends more time at her sisters palace than in her own. First it was because she was Yueyao-jiejie's doctor, then it was because Yueyao was her only support. Then it was because Yueyao's son, Jingyu, was raising her Jingyan.

A mere concubine isn’t allowed to raise her own children. Imperial concubines aren’t supposed to have children – they are supposed to be too low-ranking to bear them for the Emperor. And so Jingyan was taken from her in his first month of life, and given to Jingyu. She is eternally grateful for Yueyao for arranging is so, can’t bear the thought of any of the higher consorts raising Jingyan. Well, Consort Hui would have tried her best. But even then, would she have had the power to let her meet Jingyan each day? Or would Jingyi have been isolated from her son, like she was meant to be?

Jingyi wonders often if she should have run, back when she was just Yueyao's doctor and the Emperor approached her the first time. She could see where it led, from the first time his eyes lingered on her. She was a game to the Emperor – another piece of the Lin family he could bend to his power. Yueyao tried to draw his attention from her, made herself attentive and needy in a way that wasn’t in her personality, just so the Emperor would not look at Jingyi. Jingyi is grateful for that too, even if it was for naught in the end.

Perhaps she should have run when she found out she was pregnant? She was a child of jianghu, perhaps she could have disappeared. But a life on the run, without any protection, would have been hard for a pregnant woman, might have harmed her child. At least in the palace Jingyan will never lack for anything.

Jingyan, she reminds herself, steeling herself. Not reacting. Most people are watching Yueyao, but some will be watching her as well. Looking at how they take the news of their brothers and nephews death. Of Jinyang's death, who grew to be a close friend these past twenty years.

They cannot give them any reason to turn on them as well. She hopes Yueyao manages it, but calm is not in her nature. Jingyi knows how to breathe to still her heart, how to keep her hands steady when distressed. She was trained for surgery and acupuncture as well as herbal medicine. But Yueyao is a soldier at heart, like Xie-ge – brave and honest, but perhaps too open.

Jingyi sits behind Yueyao, trying to not draw attention, as visitors come and go. They claim to be coming with news, offering covert condolences, but really they’re vultures circling a hurt animal.

When she leaves, Yueyao takes her hands and catches her eyes. “Meimei”, Yueyao says, “perhaps tomorrow it would be better for you not to come.”

Jingyi closes her eyes, keeps her tears on the inside. Nods. She is just a concubine, none will bother her the way they will bother Yueyao. She can be out of their sight, out of their mind. It kills her to be unable to support her sister, who has supported her so many times. But Jingyan comes first.

“I think I will spend the day baking”, Jingyi says lightly. “I will send you some.” So that her sister will know she’s thinking of her.

“Thank you. Your creations are always the best.”

They don’t meet again. Jingyi stays in her manor as much as she can. When Jingyu is taken captive Yueyao sends her a note. It doesn’t say much of anything – there is no guarantee of privacy – but Jingyi understands the meaning. Stay away for your own safety.

It’s painful. Jingyi is a doctor, standing aside when people need help is against her nature. Jingyi is a Lin, she wants to be by her sister, even if it means going down with her family. But Jingyi has endured many painful things in her life. She can endure this too.

Yueyao doesn’t write her again. Even though the Emperor pardons her, Jingyi doesn’t hold much hope and isn’t proven wrong. With her son dead, her family dead, only Jingyi remaining, Yueyao is for the first time without any support. The Empress takes this opportunity.

Jingyi doesn’t know the exact threats, but she can guess. She is the only one Yueyao has left. She is only a concubine, now without the support of a powerful family, with a son who is young and away. If the Empress wanted to arrange Jingyi's death, it wouldn’t be hard.

The Empress has always felt threatened by Yueyao, who had the Emperor's oldest son and enjoyed many years of favor. Yueyao is still too visible, too cherished, to be killed. Her death will be investigated in detail. But no-one would care about Jingyi, and Yueyao is a loving, protective sister. She is a Lin, unafraid of sacrifice.

Jingyi is not surprised when the news of her death comes.

It seems she can never repay her sister in this life, but she prays they will meet again in the next. Perhaps then fates will be kinder and she will not be left the last Lin alive.

Liyang's husband returns triumphant. Liyang welcomes him back dutifully. She smiles at his elation, doesn’t flinch from his hands. She has years of practice.

She can endure being touched by the hands soaked in her nephews blood. Can keep from slitting his throat in his sleep.

When they married she started off terribly afraid of him, and also ashamed. Neither of these feelings has ever left her, only found new forms. This is no different. She knows how to keep him happy, how to be the perfect wife. She makes herself small, vanishes inside her body and detaches from it. For her, it is a matter of survival.

(Sometimes, for a moment, she can convince herself to forget things long enough to enjoy his attention, his devotion. It always makes her hate herself that much more, afterwards – that she can enjoy his touch.)

Her twin sister had the foresight and intelligence to pursue marriage to an acceptable target. Liyang had scoffed at her sister then, who wanted to be tied down to a man so young? But her sister chose well, grew happy. And Liyang waited until her hand was forced and ended up with a man who makes her shrink and feel like a shell of a woman.

Liyang doesn’t cry for her sister. She does cry for her bright, young nephew, but only once all the children have fallen asleep and she is alone in her rooms.

Her daughter still cries for Jinyang. When Qi’er got into her head that she wanted to learn swords, at the very mature age of seven, Liyang quietly took her to her sister. Jinyang arranged it, took Qi’er to outings outside the capital and arranged covert lessons for her. If anyone questioned her, she’d laugh and say she wanted a daughter of her own, and since Liyang was so busy with her sons, Jinyang was only taking the opportunity to spend time with her niece. And then Jinyang would coo over how cute Qi’er was, look at her new hanfu, we went to visit this famous silkmaker in Langzhou, isn’t she just adorable?

Liyang has thought that Qi’er takes after Jinyang more than her mother, before. Jinyang was quiet as a youth as well, good at concealing her intelligence under demure words and shy smiles. Before Jinyang blossomed in her marriage Liyang was the unruly one.

But now Qi’er starts to resemble her, and it breaks Liyang's heart. She doesn’t want her daughter to drown in fear as she has. She confines her daughter to home, tells everyone Qi’er has taken ill. Tries to comfort and support her daughter as much as she can. Hopes that this will pass. Thinks that her daughter is already small and quiet – if she shrinks any further, she might just disappear.

Like Liyang's sister and nephew have.

Jingyan wakes in pain. It pierces through his abdomen and echoes through his chest, flaring with each breath drawn. A film of sweat and sickness clings to his skin.

But worst of all is the sensation of phantom limbs reaching inside him, crushing his insides.

What is this? He doesn’t remember anything off from when he went to sleep. Was he poisoned? Attacked? No, those don’t feel right. It’s something inside him. He’s wrong, somehow.

He’s dizzy and lonely and panicked, and it makes no sense at all. Something is wrong at home, he thinks, knows he’s right.

A warm nose pushes into his ear, and a heavy warmth settles into his side. He turns his head, buries his face into thick wolf-fur. Foya is panting and alert, but not tense enough that Jingyan is worried. If Foya is here and this calm, they must not be in immediate danger.

“Your highness?”

It’s Zhanying. How did Jingyan not sense him? They’ve been bonded for months, now, and usually he can feel Zhanying's presence all the time, like spring-cool fingerprints pressed on his pulse. Clear, calming, steadying.

He forces his eyes open – it’s the same room he went to sleep in. Zhanying sits by his bedside, mostly put together – but there are worry lines etched into his face and shadows under his eyes.

“Zhanying?”

“This servant is here! How does your highness feel?”

“...Exhausted. What is this, Zhanying?”

Zhanying hurries to help him sit up, speaking rapidly as he does so. “We do not know. Last night I felt something off, and Foya started howling. You wouldn’t wake up, no matter what I did. We didn’t dare ask our hosts to provide a doctor, in case it was their doing, and our own medics couldn’t find anything wrong. I told our hosts that Foya was sick and you wouldn’t leave his side. Was that acceptable?”

Jingyan considers this. His thoughts come sluggishly. They are not on friendly territory, and even if their hosts have nothing to do with this, they might get ideas if they knew Jingyan was unconscious. It’s probably better for them to see Foya as his weakness than to know he’s actually out of the picture himself. Foya is full-grown and battle-trained, he can defend himself.

“Yes. That’s fine. Did I miss anything important?”

“Just a planned hunt, there were no important meetings scheduled for today. Yesterday? It’s night, I don’t know how late. In the morning there is a meeting you’re meant to attend, considering the mutual defense agreement…”

Jingyan refreshes himself, eats and lets Zhanying organize his schedule and go through their plans for the meeting. The empty feeling doesn’t abate. His flames are exhausted, like he’d been fighting a battle all day instead of laying in bed. Is that why his bonds feel off? Lin Shu's bond is the worst, he can’t grasp that at all, but Nihuang and Zhanying feel slightly muted as well.

Getting through the next days is hard. The world feels fake. A good imitation of a true thing, but still lacking. (In what way? He doesn’t know.) He needs all his focus just to stay awake and alert, to be ready to argue in the negotiations and present in the festivities. It doesn’t get better. He doesn’t dare to shorten this stay, no matter how much he needs to get home, to find out what happened.

When the time to return comes, Jingyan asks Zhanying to plan the fastest route possible. That means changing horses often, which means Foya can’t keep up on his own, which means they need a carriage for him. And since Jingyan doesn’t want his own exhaustion to slow them down either, that means joining Foya in the carriage. No matter how much it smarts.

The first days of travel he spends anxious, imagining increasingly improbable disaster scenarios. What is off at home? Is there another plaque? A coup? A rebellion? An invasion?

Halfway on their route home, a letter arrives with a courier. Jingyan hopes it’s from home. It’s not.

Water Buffalo,

you do not know me, but we have some common ties. In his interest, I am here to offer a word of warning. You must feel quite lost at the moment, but it is not safe to show it or ask questions. Not all is lost – our friend still depends on us, and there are many more lives on the line that you may risk if you step wrong. Remember this when you hear things, and especially do not draw the ire of the Emperor.

What does that mean? Jingyan rereads the letter, frustrated, but finds no more sense in it. Common ties with someone who calls him water buffalo – Xiao Shu. Does the writer know he is bonded to Xiao Shu? And ‘our friend still depends on us’ – is Xiao Shu in trouble? Is that why Jingyan can’t feel him? And what does father Emperor have to do with it? Jingyan knows Xiao Shu was worried about the Emperor's opinion, but surely it can’t have turned that bad, this quickly?

He doesn’t recognize the writing, it doesn’t have any signs of who sent the letter. The courier is gone, like he never existed. But – water buffalo. Surely Xiao Shu would only use that with friends, surely he would never tell strangers about their bond when even their parents don’t know?

Soon after, rumors start reaching them. Jingyan sends Zhanying out to listen and bring them back. At first he can barely believe them – but one person after another collaborates the facts. Qi-wangxiang is dead. The Lin family are dead. Consort Chen. These ministers, these nobles, all allies of one or the other.

Xiao Shu’s parents are dead. Aunt Yueyao is dead. No word of his own mother, and Jingyan has to trust that means she still lives. (Lonely and grieving, but she lives. She must.)

Chiyan, all 70 000 of them, are dead. That is a number too large to comprehend, but he can weather it.

Jingyu-gege is dead. That breaks him, a little.

Xiao Shu can’t be dead. I’d know. This emptiness, it’s not that Xiao Shu is dead. He’s just going through a lot. Right. That must be it.

He arrives at Jinling, goes straight to the palace. It’s the best way to find out more.

Do not show that you know anything, he reminds himself as he’s let in. More than your life depends on it. His mother, if no-one else. Maybe Zhanying, maybe Nihuang, maybe Xiao Shu. If he still lives.

“Father Emperor”, he greets, kneeling, gaze on the floor. “Your son is here to report back from Donghai.”

It takes the Emperor long moments to let him rise from his bow, and Jingyan can feel his stare. It’s easy to keep from reacting outwardly, but inside he feels like he’s burning, for the first time in weeks. His flames, rising once more under his eggshell-thin skin, until he feels like they should shine through.

He presents his report. Goes through the motions as though everything is normal. Father is obviously waiting for something, waiting for a reaction. Jingyan waits as well.

Get to it, father, he thinks, disrespectful, uncharacteristic. I need to know.

(The fury inside him is deep and boiling. It vaporizes any other emotion. Any fear.)

Finally his father sets the report aside. “And there is nothing else? Nothing you want to ask me?”

“Your son has indeed heard some rumours on his way back”, Jingyan says. Father would not believe anything else. “But has not paid any attention to them. It is much more common for rumours to be baseless than true.”

“And what have you heard?”

“Some nonsense about a planned coup”, Jingyan says. Please laugh and agree, he thinks, and already knows that’s not happening.

“Nonsense?” The Emperor’s expression is growing darker and stormier, but Jingyan expected this, thought of what to say to be believable. He knows that he can’t avoid this mess entirely (wouldn’t want to, anyway), but he can make father Emperor believe he doesn’t know anything.

“Father knows your son was raised in the household of Prince Qi. Your son has been a friend to Lin Shu for as long as he can remember. Your son may be foolish, but not foolish enough to listen to malicious rumours without any actual proof about people he knows as just and loyal.”

Jingyan stops himself. That came out much sharper than he meant it. For all he feels like screaming, he needs to stay sharp now. He can’t allow his emotions to ruin everything. (More lives than your own depend on this.)

There are no words that express how angry he is, anyway. How could there be? The world is burnt to a husk and somehow still bleeding at the same time, his eyes haven’t yet shed any tears but he feels as though he’s spent his life crying.

“Just and loyal?” his father barks. “That rebel Lin Xie was always imperious and defiant, refused to give up any power and did as he pleased! And Lin Shu activating Sky flames was a threat to the stability and loyalty of the empire. Who knows how many ministers he had twisted to his will with his powers? I saw Lin Shu after you activated your flames – how resentful he was, to not be the only one and the center of attention anymore, to have someone to oppose him. He must have had ambitions for the throne!”

“Neither Xiao Shu nor I ever sought the throne!” Jingyan snaps. “Prince Qi was the crown prince!”

“Prince Qi, what prince Qi? That traitorous Jingyu, always talking behind my back! He must have seen you as an obstacle for himself as well, why else would he not take you in his confidence in his plot? You ungrateful, unfilial child, can’t you see I did this for you too!”

Would it be better or worse if Jingyan actually believed that? Does it matter, since he doesn’t. Not for a moment.

The worst part is that some part of him does want to believe. To think that his father actually did this for the country, for the people, even for Jingyan himself. So that at least this wouldn’t be selfish. So that Jingyan could believe there was an excuse, a reason, for the father he still somehow (stupidly, selfishly) loves to have done this. That there was some sort of greater good in his mind.

He doesn’t.

With an effort, he remains as still as carved stone, eyes tilted downwards. Who knows what they look like? Filled with deep fury, glowing in sky colors? But he’s already said too much, pushed too far.

“Of course we had no imperial ambitions”, he says, “the decision to choose the crown prince belongs only to father Emperor. Regardless of recent circumstances, your son does not believe father Emperor chose wrong.”

The silence after that is suffocating, lasts for ages. Jingyan waits, repeats in his mind: Do not draw his ire. More than one life may depend on it.

(Is Xiao Shu still alive or not? The letter said our friend still depends on us, but was that a hint or not?)

“Go”, his father says. “Go to your manor and do not leave. You are to stay in and reflect on your character until I summon you. And by then you had better see some sense, if you still want to keep my favour.”

Your favour, which will last only as long as I hold no power compared to you? Jingyan thinks, once more uncharacteristically malicious. But he just acknowledges and leaves.

It takes months for his father to remember his existence, which is probably just as well.

(No word, no letter arrives after the first, and Jingyan can only hope it’s because it’s too risky to contact him in the capital. Not that Xiao Shu is dead, or the sender is dead, or -

The possibilities keep him up at night.)

Chapter Text

He feels like death. Still and cold, no strength, no energy. No will. He falls.

The white pavilion is a shining beacon on the dark road. His weary feet take him up the stairs, stop in the middle of a hexagram painted on the floor. He lifts his eyes.

The roof is there, yet not – he can see the stars through it, and they look brighter than they did outside, as if their light is directed straight at this spot. They cleanse his tired soul. He wants to reach out and touch them.

Instead he walks to the side of the pavilion, where dark waters plunge down into nothingness. He looks down into the mists below, sees the world. His mother, her fingertips pressed together and brow furrowed. Tai nai nai, kneeling in front of a shrine, her hair flowing free around her. Nihuang, sleeping in a bare tent, her little brother curled against her side. Jingyan in a bed, the first rays of sunlight just touching his face, people fussing around him. Meng-dage grasping his heart, arms trembling, talking to his wife. Lin Chen curled up and buried in furs. Wei Zheng on one knee on a snowy slope, eyes tightly shut. Yujin, tossing and turning in his bed.

He wants – reaches out –

There is pain, pain everywhere. He is made of pain, of screaming bones and disintegrating flesh, of nerves firing without any control.

Is he on fire? It feels like he’s on fire, but then why is he so cold?

The city is flooded with people yet deadly silent, almost insubstantial. Lin Shu keeps reaching out, brushing walls with his fingertips, digging his nails into door frames. The crowd sweeps him along, yet there seems to be no destination. They are lost.

He recognizes too many of these faces. Soldiers he has commanded, trained with, servants who have cared for him. They are all grey and lifeless, weeping without words or eyes empty and despairing.

He turns his head, sees another familiar face, but this time so dear – turns to shout, mother! -

He feels like there is someone with him, holding him, keeping him still against a strong current. Many people, desperately holding on.

He doesn’t know why. Isn’t he dead already?

Oh, my precious little boy, his mother mouths. No sound comes out, but he understands regardless. You must get out of here.

Mother, what is -

He blinks awake. Doesn’t move, can’t find the energy or motivation. Every part of him is still in pain, but this time it is not so all-consuming. Pain of torn and recently mended flesh, numbness born of long stillness. Not the pain of burning alive.

He is still so cold.

-going on?

This is the City of Innocent Deaths. You must not stay here, go, return, before it is too late.

I – I can’t, mother, the pain – it’s too much.

Yes, I imagine it is. But just think of all you left behind, all you still wanted to do. There is nothing you can do from here. But out there –

He blinks in and out of consciousness, barely any difference between those states. No awareness of how long he is awake, how long are the pauses between. At some point he gathers enough energy to open his eyes, then immediately falls into an exhausted stupor. Just as well, he couldn’t see anything anyway.

Mother – I don’t know if I can return the same.

Follow that which keeps your inner light burning. Who cares about anything else, as long as you know what is most important to you? That is your unchanging center. Hold that in your heart, and you can adapt to anything else.

I – can’t you come with me, mother?

Oh, my boy, I have nothing left there. But you do, your people still need you. I’ll be here in your place. Take your time, don’t you dare hurry back.

Lin Shu wakes up slowly, takes his time. He’s lying on his side, next to a sleeping Lin Chen. He’s not even sure how he knows this – it’s intrinsic.

His head is still fuzzy from pain and exhaustion, but at least he finally feels human. He opens his eyes gradually, and though the light spears straight through his brain, this time he doesn’t pass out.

Lin Shus head is pillowed on Lin Chens forearm, and Lin Chens hand is resting just barely away from his wrist. It looks like Lin Chen fell asleep either trying his pulse or hugging him. Maybe both. Lin Chen is secretly an emotional sap.

He traces Lin Chens features with his eyes. There are new lines etched on his brow, deeper shadows under his eyes. His hair is messed up – Lin Shu can spot tangles in it the size of a fist. That, if anything, is a sign of how bad things must be.

Lin Shu twitches all his fingers and toes, one at a time. Even that causes the pain to flare up. But they all seem to be there and functioning, which must be a miracle. He’s wrapped in bandages from head to toe, but he doesn’t think he has any wounds. He remembers being stabbed by Xie Yu, but that part of him doesn’t hurt any more or less than any other part does. He tries to move his head, his scalp feels odd – ah, he doesn’t have any hair. Compared to everything else, it’s such a tiny detail. He knows his parents would care more about actual wounds. The loss of it still staggers him, makes him gasp.

Lin Chen mumbles in his sleep and then his eyes snap open. They stare at each other, flashes of emotion flickering in their bond too fast for Lin Shu to identify.

”Well, don’t you look crappy. Sure you don’t need another month of beauty sleep?”

Lin Shu’s fingers twitch. He tries to lift his head up and concedes it might be a bad idea when his vision starts to swim. Lin Chen immediately scowls, waving his free hand in an admonishing manner.

”Now don’t get more stupid ideas like that! I am your doctor and I tell you when you get to move, and otherwise you’ll stay put, or else I’ll knock you out! Hear me?”

Lin Shu sighs. Closes his eyes. Waits until Lin Chen starts to feel a little uneasy – probably wondering if Lin Shu fell unconscious out of sheer pettiness – then speaks. Or tries to. His voice cracks, doesn’t properly work.

”Oh”, Lin Chen says. “You really did a ton of damage on yourself. We fixed everything that was obviously wrong, of course, but we had to be careful not to tax your body too much. And there are lots of things that we didn’t know if they’re wrong or just – different. Now that you’re awake we can get to those.”

Lin Shu manages to turn his head, stares at Lin Chen.

”What, you want a list? We’d be here all day. Nah, I’ll do that once we know you’ll stay awake for it. Now – does that hurt? Wait, you can’t say – okay, that works, hiss if this hurts then. Oh yeah, thought so…”

Lin Shu looks at Lin Chen fussing, touching places on and around his throat, obediently opens his mouth so that Lin Chen can look into it. Resigns himself to this being his life for now.

Lin Chen, bright and alive, makes him feel languid and safe in a way he didn’t think he could feel anymore.

Lin Chen stays by his bedside, chattering incessantly, and Lin Shu gleans from it what he can. He can’t ask things, but he can glare at Lin Chen and hiss disagreement or grunt agreement, trace patterns with his fingertips. Lin Chen is very good as guessing what he means from the first stroke or two.

”Yeah, yeah, Wei Zheng is alive. As are a handful of other people. Some of your other soldiers activated flames while escaping, which is probably the only reason they survived the cold after Wei Zheng passed out after your suicidal swim in the snowdrifts. Yeah, he passed out, I think we all might have? I know I did. Lucky for me, I was at home in bed, I’d bet most others were as well. Except Wei Zheng of course. Yeah, that’s how I knew to send my father fetch you. I would have liked to go myself of course but I wasn’t at my best and he was faster. Wei Zheng’s here, and the other survivors we found as well. Forty-two, most from Chiyu. I’ll list them…”

Lin Shu drinks in hungrily every name that Lin Chen offers, clings to the knowledge that some of his men made it out. Less than fifty out of seventy thousand, but still, more than were meant to. There might be more out there, from other battalions, who ran in a different direction from the Chiyu survivors.

The Master comes by, asks Lin Shu questions about how he feels. Lin Shu rolls his eyes until he gets a headache – a worse headache that he had already. He hurts everywhere, he can barely move, he can’t speak. How are questions going to help?

But the Master seems encouraged enough. “Well you’re in better shape than I expected, that is good. You’re absolutely forbidden from trying to access your flames, or moving. Better you keep quiet as well for now. The surviving Chiyan soldiers can visit you a few at a time if you want them to, but only when Lin Chen is here to supervise. No news until you’ve been awake for three days in a row.”

Lin Shu tries to plead with his gaze – that just makes him worry more about what the news might be. He already knows his father and his father’s army are dead – and mother? Somehow he thinks his mother is dead as well, though he can’t quite remember why. Maybe someone has spoken of it on his bedside while he slept?

Perhaps that’s all there is, he thinks. Maybe the news they are worried I can’t take is my mother’s death.

He tries not to think on his parents, or Chiyan, for the next days. He gets enough of that in his nightmares. Sometimes of the battles at Meiling, sometimes of cold or snow or dark. Once he dreams of his uncle, the Emperor – from that dream he wakes up crying. Somehow the sheer normalcy of it was worse than anything else.

Silence grates on his nerves, makes him shiver from bone-deep cold that must be imagined, but he isn’t left alone for long periods anyway. Lin Chen only leaves when he needs to make his rounds among whatever other injured they have, and all of the Chiyan survivors visit Lin Shu when he’s awake. Most of them weep when they see him. Lin Shu wishes he could comfort them, but if he so much as lifts a finger, Lin Chen shoos them away.

His bandages are changed often, and under them Lin Shu can see his arms are thin and their skin is almost snow-white. It’s also amazingly sensitive and peels from the slightest touch, leaving painful welts behind. Only Lin Chen can touch him without tearing straight through it, and Lin Shu thinks he must have had a lot of practice while Lin Shu slept.

On the third day the Master deems him stable enough, and finally sits down to explain things. He starts with the news from capital – the treason charges, the massive purge the court has undergone, Qi-wangxiang- Lin Shu shakes through it, the words falling on his mind like an avalanche. How could this happen? How could anyone believe it? How could uncle Emperor do this?

The betrayal slices through him like fire, like ice. Like being burned and buried in the snows of Meiling, all at the same time.

Lin Chen scolds him for getting worked up. “There is nothing that can be done for those who died in the purge, and I have taken what steps I can to see nobody else follows them to the grave. You just need to heal. Do not stress yourself in vain.”

It’s not untrue, but Lin Shu can’t just – just -

He can hear Lin Chen and his father speaking, but their words blur in his ears. He startles when Lin Chen sits next to him and touches his shoulder. The Master is gone – Lin Shu didn’t even notice him leave – and everything is quiet.

Quiet except the wind, like the climb at Meiling, alone and ready to die. Like the hum in his ears as uncle Xie stabbed him, a cold light in his eyes. Like his ears full of snow, frozen skin peeling off with the ice covering him.

Lin Chen’s flames sink into him, calm his heart until he can breathe once more. Rain, he thinks, tranquility. I need -

There’s nothing in him, he’s empty – if he’s empty why isn’t he dead, is he dead? The world flickers in his eyes, his sickroom at Langya hall overlapping with dark streets, a crowd with desolate eyes -

His eyes fly open with a gasp. It takes him no time to remember – it’s like his mind was simply waiting to wake up. Lin Chen is at once by his side, hands hovering above him, not quite daring to touch.

“Don’t try to draw on your flames!”

Lin Shu breathes, tries not to panic. He doesn’t panic in a battlefield when surrounded by enemies. There is nothing dangerous here, why would he panic now?

Lin Chen hovers while he compartmentalizes. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, Lin Shu thinks, detached in his own hollowed-out body.

He needs to know why he doesn’t have flames, what has been done to him. If only he could speak -

(Is he dead? Is he a corpse? Rotting alive, flesh falling off his bones -)

He closes his eyes, focuses on what he can feel. Not the pain which is his constant companion, not the faint not-quite-right awareness of his limbs, not the dull, almost numbed feel in every part of him touching the bed.

He feels Lin Chen, right here, in his chest. Others, too. His bond with Wei Zheng feels almost normal, if not as strong as his bond with Lin Chen, but the others – they feel frailer, like they might break from the slightest touch. Just like me.

But all his bonded are still alive, all his bonds are still there, and his bond with Lin Chen feels even stronger than before. He tries to pull on it and suddenly feels warm, feels more present, more awake.

Lin Chen, he thinks to it. Lin Chen, I need to know, Lin Chen, what has happened to me – what is this -

He lets go in exhaustion. Realizes he’s crying. He tries to stop the low keening noises, but it only makes his eyes burn more, makes the tears pooling in the corners of his eyes roll down his cheeks.

Shh, I’m here, I’m taking care of you. It takes him a moment to realize the words didn’t come through his ears. Next he gets a sensation of a hand on his cheek, wiping the tears away, even though nobody is touching him.

It relaxes the tension in his chest, knowing he can be understood, can still communicate even if only a little. The keening stops and he gulps air, feels the tears slow and then stop. Lin Chen has sat down next to him, laid his actual physical hand on his chest, lightly enough it barely hurts.

Even that pain is a little grounding.

“You were buried in snow for over two days”, Lin Chen whispers. “Your body stopped producing flames at some point, but it could draw on your bonded still. Without that there’s no way you could have survived. Even with all of us to draw on, you barely made it.

“Father dug you up. All of your skin had frozen and died, as had your extremities. Hands. Feet. All of the muscles close to your skin. Your left lung had been pierced, either in the avalanche or before that, and as it filled with fluid your body gave up on it and it died.”

Lin Chen takes a deep breath, then continues, sounding as detached as Lin Shu feels.“We had to storm-disintegrate the dead flesh so that it wouldn’t rot, hold mist constructions in place to keep your body from noticing and going into shock, sun-activate your own cells to repair you, bit by bit. You’re pretty much a new man. But the new muscles and joints you have built have never been used. The skin has never known touch. New nerves on every part of your skin, every muscle in your body. A new lung that doesn’t know how to breathe. A voice box that hasn’t been used.

“And, well, this kind of work – making your body rebuild itself from the ground up – isn’t exact in the best of circumstances. And we were in a hurry. So there will be differences. Some things might be misaligned. And your body is close enough to crashing completely that we don’t want to break things again. One day we might fix everything, but for now, we’re just satisfied you’re alive.”

Lin Shu breathes, grunts in sort-of-agreement. He’s feeling too many things right now, yet he might as well be feeling nothing at all.

Weeks pass. Some things get better – the shaking of every exerted muscle, the constant ache in his bones – some do not. His voice recovers agonizingly slowly – he may be able to make some sounds, but he would never call it speech. This is fine when Lin Chen is in an agreeable mood, willing to interpret for Lin Shu. When Lin Chen is not willing, like when he wants Lin Shu to sleep, he just makes awful guesses and pretends to not understand until Lin Shu throws his hands up in defeat. Metaphorically, because his muscles have nowhere near enough strength for that kind of movement.

He gets to start ‘exercising’ his new muscles, but only under supervision and only for an hour a day at most. Even that is sometimes too much. He gets dizzy from trying to lift a hand. It’s ridiculous, and he can’t even complain out loud.

Lin Chen reads him intelligence reports to pass time and asks him questions – sometimes asinine ones meant to make Lin Shu glare at him, sometimes real questions that require actual thought. Both of them are good distractions.

He knows Lin Chen doesn’t want him to dwell or brood, tries to keep his spirits up. The Master thinks that Lin Shu not producing any flames is just exhaustion, and that it will fix itself as he recovers, but the secondary possibility is that it’s psychosomatic. Or something like that.

“Just try to feel more alive!” Lin Chen says cheerfully when this is brought up. It is the most aggravating thing ever, and therefore Lin Chen makes sure to repeat it every day after that.

At some point the pain ceases to matter. It is there all the time anyway, and the difference between the pain of staying still and moving isn’t that significant. At least movement distracts him from it.

“Don’t overexert yourself”, Lin Chen keeps repeating. “The less strain you put on your body, the less flame you drain from all of us to keep it from falling to pieces. So lay down.”

His skin recovers enough that he can be carried around, which means he can finally get out of his room. He isn’t allowed in direct sunlight, or in rain, or in the mildest of winds – but being outside at all, even if just leaning against a wall and watching Lin Chen spar with his men, is a welcome change in his routine.

“We’ll try to leave the bandages off soon”, Lin Chen promises him after that.

They do, and though the revealed skin is extremely sensitive once more, it’s a step in the right direction. His soldiers gasp when they see him, and at first Lin Shu just thinks it’s because of how skinny he is now, but the staring goes on long enough that he starts to get suspicious.

“You grew a new face when most of it died of frostbite”, Lin Chen says, “but I wouldn’t have let you become ugly, you know! It’s just a little different.”

When he gets to see a mirror, he stares at it for a long time. He’s not completely unrecognizable, he doesn’t think. There are enough similarities that he might pass for a relative. A cousin, maybe a brother. But still… He’s like a sculpture an amateur tried to make of Lin Shu. The general lines are right, all the detail is wrong.

The strong, healthy body his parents gave him has transformed into something different, something gaunt and frail. His skin is stretched thin over his new bony form, almost translucent, with veins shoving prominently through it in places. He looks – and feels – like he’s fading away.

No scars, he notes absently, running a hand over where uncle Xie stabbed him. All the scars are on the inside.

“You need a lot more of meat and muscle on your bones”, Lin Chen prattles, “but then I think you’ll look quite distinguished. Not quite as good as me, of course, but then when have you?”

Later that night, when Lin Chen is away making his rounds, he runs his fingers all over his form, feeling the bones jutting out of his thin skin. His hands start shaking from exhaustion but he doesn’t stop, can’t stop, needs to remind himself that this is his body. He feels wrong, somehow – he feels like he should be a charred husk, yet also feels like he should be a young healthy man.

He burns with the betrayal, the hatred, the loss. He feels it all the time when Lin Chen isn’t distracting him from it. Surely there should be some sign of it on his skin.

He tries not to show how fragile he feels, how out of place. The other Chiyan survivors are coping with their own losses, it isn’t fair to heap his up on them. But his days feel like he’s sleepwalking his way through them. He’s so precariously balanced, just waiting for a misstep which will let him fall and shatter.

He clings to Lin Chen, and Lin Chen clings back in return. Some days Lin Chen and Wei Zheng are the only reasons he wakes up at all, the only reason he tries to not bury himself in grief. Other days he feels like a burden to them. Without him, Lin Chen would not be locked in his small sickroom, his whole life derailed. Without him, Wei Zheng would have already left for his home and his family, the girl he promised himself to and still loves.

He doesn’t want to die, but sometimes he feels like he should be dead.

Yet, there are also moments that remind him why he must preserve. When he wakes up to Lin Chen frantically grabbing his wrist and taking his pulse, and knows Lin Chens nightmares involve his death. When the Chiyan survivors kneel at his bedside and draw straws on who gets to keep him company this time. He doesn’t deserve their love, their worship, but they’ve already lost too much. He can’t hurt them by pushing them away.

(Can’t let them see how wrong he feels, how changed. Must stay the young marshal for them.)

Months pass. Lin Shu learns to eat by himself again, manages to wash without assistance. Eventually he graduates to standing up with Lin Chens support, then leaning on walls and walking until his legs, predictably, give out. He thinks his way through the pain, the constant feeling of being on the edge of breaking. He doesn’t much care about himself, but he needs to make a life to those that followed him who still live. Needs to make a plan to set up everyone else with a new identity, a new life.

Lin Chen and his father have put the uninjured survivors to work, and Lin Shu doesn’t doubt that Lin Chen would let them stay for the rest of his days. For some, that will be enough. But Wei Zheng has his beloved, who is too well known to just disappear with him without raising a fuss. Others may have families that are under watch or suspicion. They can’t just walk up to them without more time and distance from Meiling, and without an identity that will stand up to scrutiny. It wouldn’t hurt to have a power base with which to protect them as well. Lin Shu isn’t willing to let Langya Hall be implicated, should one of his men be discovered.

The answer is obvious – there is really only one option. They can’t associate with anyone too familiar with the army, or too close to court, for fear of being recognized. Lin Shu doesn’t want to travel far – he still has people and loyalties in Da-Liang. That only leaves the jianghu. Lin Shu and his men certainly know enough to establish a martial arts sect of their own, and Lin Chen can fill in the gaps in his knowledge.

He thinks of making Nie Duo the sect leader, or Wei Zheng. Either of them would be more than capable. But they are also too well known. He could probably train one of the less well known soldiers for it, but then would it ever be more than a front? Would any of his men ever command Wei Zheng or Nie Duo in their own right, or would it just be Lin Shu speaking through them? And could he even let go of the reins enough for that, or would he just control everything from the shadows?

Perhaps I should be a sect Elder, he thinks without humor. With his health, it might be for the best. A sect leader is supposed to be a martial arts master. No matter how much knowledge Lin Shu possesses, can he ever gain respect in the jianghu if he’s too frail to fight?

(Can he bear anyone seeing him in his current condition?)

He doesn’t tell anyone of his musings, not that he really could, just considers things from all angles, until terrible news arrives.

He hears rumors at first, whispered among his soldiers. Mentions of Yunnan, of southern Chu, of house of Mu. Lin Chen has not barred Lin Shu from anywhere, so he searches the incoming reports for facts.

He hears of the disastrous rout that caused both of Nihuangs parents’ deaths, learns of Nihuang riding into battle to avenge them still dressed in funeral white. Thinks of the timing, the facts they know. Chiyan case is well over a year old, still fresh enough to linger in the minds at court, but not as all-consuming as it once was. Perfect time for the Emperor to consider what loose ends it left behind. Mu Shen has led the armies of Yunnan for close to three decades now, and their bravery and discipline is without equal now that the Chiyan is gone. How could such a thing happen?

Lin Chen finds him staring at the wall, the reports clenched in his hand, bloody from where his nails bit into his palms. He unfurls Lin Shu’s fingers one by one with gentle hands, but Lin Shu can’t pay any mind to it. His mind is south in Yunnan, in the grand halls of the imperial court, mired in blood and betrayal.

Do you know? He turns to Lin Chen, grabs his hand, begs with his eyes. Do you know if it was arranged, and by whom?

(Was it my fault, was this because of our engagement? Have I bought this grief on Nihuang?)

“We do not know”, Lin Chen says, soothing yet grave. “We can find out, but it won’t change anything. What has happened is already over.”

Could Lin Shu have foreseen this, had he not been so lost in his own grief, his own lost health and failing heart? Was there anything to do, any warning he could have sent? He doesn’t know, his mind is murky and tired. Lost.

“We will find out the truth”, Lin Chen says. “I promise.”

Lin Shu lets himself be led to bed. He dreams of breaking - just shattering into a million pieces and falling into a place so deep and dark even Lin Chen will not be able to ever find him again.

News drift in bit by bit, with Lin Shu and Lin Chen sending queries and directing their agents to gather all relevant information. How was the battle going, who was where? Which units broke, in what circumstances? What about the personal guard, did any survive? What tactics where the Southern Chu using, who led them, what do their soldiers say?

It’s frustrating work, with no certainty. No assassin is dug up, eager to confess their blade is the one that slayed Nihuangs parents. No personal guard is found alive, no-one saw the deaths happen.

It’s not impossible that this could have been an accident. War is ever unpredictable and chaotic. But the more they dig, the less Lin Shu is inclined to believe so. It’s too neat, too professional. And that, if anything, is the signature of Xuanjing bureau.

Xia Jiang, Lin Shu thinks, running his hands over his robes, trying to ground himself with the touch. Is it you? Does Nihuang know anything, suspect anything, is she in any danger?

Surely Xia Dong would protect Nihuang – or would she? She has not spoken a word in the defense of Chiyan, of the Lin family. Quite the opposite. He doesn’t quite hate her for it, but it still hurts, hammers it home that nothing can ever be right again.

Lin Shu closes his eyes, centers himself. He can’t write to Nihuang – if there is any foul play in this, she will be watched even more carefully than usual. And he trusts her to draw her own conclusions, which may be more accurate than his, since she is there in person and he is not.

What do I do? He mouths the words silently, not expecting an answer, but Lin Chen speaks up.

“Four things come not back: the spoken word, the spent arrow, the past life, and the neglected opportunity. Is there any point in dwelling on this?”

Lin Shus temper flares and he spins around, wants to raise his voice but has to do with a glare. And what, he mouths, do you expect me to do instead?

“Anything you want. Travel the world. Cultivate to immortality and retire to a mountaintop. Plot actual rebellion. Become a merchant, a bandit king, a teacher, a healer.”

It is completely unthinkable. Lin Shu knows his people, the few that remain, would not blame him. Some of them might even be happy for him. But he has to know, to understand how things got this way. It’s a burning need inside him, a fire just as hot as his flames once were.

So many good, loyal people have been lost to this tragedy. Does Lin Shu deserve to be different? No. He needs to get a hold of himself and get to work, to make sure there will be no more corpses from this frustrating mess.

Lin Chen watches him with a crooked smile, and Lin Shu scowls at him. Lin Chen truly does know him too well.

So he gets to work. He combs through Langya Halls records, decides where to focus their initial efforts in building a power base. Familiarizes himself with all the sects in the area that will be their neighbors. Lin Chen coaches him in jianghu customs and jianghu politics until Lin Shu trusts he can pass as a native.

Still his flames show no sign of recovery.

He gathers all of his men and explains his plans. They deserve a choice and a chance to have their voices heard before he puts anything in motion. His voice gives out quickly, and Lin Chen forces him to sit down with tea and continues the speech according to Lin Shus commands.

None of his men have left yet, and none protest now. There are reasonable concerns, of course, like how they will avoid suspicion – a new sect full of talented swordsmen does not just appear out of nowhere. That one Langya Hall can help them with. They won’t lie to people, but they can watch what information they give and let people draw their own conclusions.

They will also need to lay the groundwork in Langzhou. Zhen Ping and Li Gang will get trained for that task. While escaping from Meiling, Li Gang activated lightning flames and Zhen Ping cloud and rain flames. Both of them are smart, talented swordsmen, and good with people. Until Lin Shu can show himself, they will represent the sect in his name. He doesn’t have any worries, knows they will do just fine, and finds it excessive just how grateful and touched they are by this.

They’ll claim they’re from a reclusive sect, which seeks to relocate to a more hospitable climate due to its leaders recently worsened health. They will contact the neighboring sects while scouting the area, establish contacts and make sure they’re not stepping on anyone’s toes. And they will spread the name of their sect among the people, so that the move will be old news by the time Lin Shu is well enough to leave Langya Hall.

They name their sect Clinging Flame, a name Lin Shu dug from Langya Halls endless archives. The original sect had died out over fifty years previous, and wasn’t famous enough that their martial arts style would have been well known. Just in case, Lin Shu studies all the information on it he can find, and makes his men train in their style. In fifty years, teachings can change and memories can fade – they don’t need to fight in the exact same way, but knowing a few familiar moves might convince anyone who is old enough to have heard of the sect.

Li Gang and Zhen Ping leave in the spring, reluctant to go but eager to please.

“Of course they are”, Lin Chen scoffs. “They practically worship you. Stupid of us, I know.”

“If the young master of Langya Hall says so, it must be true.”

“It is. I really should make you pay for listening to my wisdom all day long.”

It’s hard to believe, but Lin Shu tries.

Soon enough rumors about them trickle back to Langya Hall. Li Gang and Zhen Ping become known as a pair of wandering heroes from a mysterious sect. The name of their sect spreads along with their deeds. They collect favors and establish contacts – Lin Shu soon has a long list of people he can call on, when it’s time.

He learns how to write again, learns all his new limitations. The hope that they’re temporary doesn’t extinguish, but he puts it aside. If nothing can be done for now, then there are more important things to focus on.

He’s slowly honing himself into a bright flame, into a blade pointed at the heart of this country. Yet he still remains empty, has to lean into Lin Chens flames without any of his own.

Is he anything except a burden, at this point?

Some days he’s just so tired. Of everything. Getting up is somehow harder now than it was when his limbs shook and his legs couldn’t hold him up. He watches Lin Chen fight with ridiculous, flashy twirls and has no energy to mock him for it. He reads and reads and reads, but instead of it occupying his mind he finds that his eyes glaze over and his thoughts keep spinning in circles.

He misses his parents, Jingyan and Nihuang, Meng-dage… but most of all he misses himself. The Lin Shu who ran more often than he walked, who was loud and lively and sure.

He’s not even a ghost, now.

Lin Chen drags him out of bed when he has trouble finding the energy for it, makes him sit out in the sun and comment on his sword dances and training plans, fills the air with chatter when Lin Shu can’t find anything to say. Rolls his eyes at him if Lin Shu apologizes for any of it.

“Of course it changed you. A betrayal of that magnitude, dying at the hands of people you trusted, coming back to life to find so much gone – it is right and proper for it to affect you. But even if you change more, or faster, than most people, it doesn’t mean you’re not still you. Just a new version. You’re still who I chose, and I’d choose you again even if I only met you now. You’re stuck with me.”

A bitter smile twists Lin Shus lips. He doesn’t think he’s even begun the change. “We’ll see how long you think that.”

“No”, Lin Chen snaps. Lin Shu glances at him, finds Lin Chen staring at him, half heartbroken, half furious. “You don’t get to disbelieve me, not about this!” He grabs Lin Shus arms, turns him by force and stares him in the eyes. “Check the bond. Check it! Now!”

Lin Shu focuses on the bond, feels what Lin Chen feels. Cranky and tired, concerned, determined. But also – earnestly, ardently loving. An ocean of care and worry and possessiveness under a thin veil of empathetic grief, mirroring Lin Shus own.

“Feel that? That’s how I feel about your morose, frustrating flameless self! Right now, at this moment! Tell me what it is.”

Lin Shu can’t find the words, but he lifts his hand and presses it to his own chest, where a part of Lin Chen’s flame still burns. Stronger than it did before – before this all.

“That’s right”, Lin Chen hisses, folds his arms, a bit of self-consciousness sneaking into the bond. “And you don’t get to doubt that.”

The next day Lin Shu introduces himself as Mei Changsu, and ignores Lin Chens laughter. It’s a name he will have to live for the foreseeable future, of course he’s put plenty of thought into it. For all the mockery that follows, Lin Chen switches to using the new name effortlessly.

When summer comes, Mei Changsu steps into a carriage with Lin Chens help. He’s as straight-backed and unflinching as a soldier, but his robes are scholarly and his hands soft. He speaks like an educated man and watches with sharp eyes trained on jianghu duels. His every movement is graceful and deliberate, his every expression unperturbed.

Mei Changsu is a suit of armor, under which Lin Shus fury can hide.

Chapter Text

Lin Chen keeps his hand steady at Changsus back as the carriage shakes and bumps, throwing them against the sides and each other by turns. He presses down the desire to wrap his arm around Changsus shoulder. This is Changsu’s first impression to the place and the people he has chosen as his. There’s no disguising his poor health, but Changsu won’t thank him for bringing attention to it. It’s stupid, poor health is hardly a character flaw – but sometimes people take pride in the silliest things.

Lin Chen eyes the pockmarked road judgmentally, then the other people on the road. Their clothes are patched and starting to lose color from the sun, their eyes either wary or curious. Langzhou as a whole may be prosperous, but not this remote mountain village. It’s not terribly poor either – everyone looks well enough fed – but it’s obviously a small, tight-knit community with nothing to attract outsiders. One of hundreds tucked away in empty corners of the map.

”This is nice”, he comments. Changsu chuckles in response. His voice is breathless. Travel even on good roads exhausts him easily, and they’ve been thrown about for half an hour.

”It has it’s good sides.”

Lin Chen doesn’t doubt that – the people must be eager for new employment and opportunities, which a new sect in the area will certainly provide. And the two Langya Hall doctors they’ve brought with them will of course be invaluable.

Easy enough place to earn or buy loyalty, but not so poor that building it up will be terribly expensive. And just as remote as Lin Chen expected. It’s too soon for memories to have faded, and Wei Zheng and Nie Duo in particular are well-known. Each passing court official, soldier, bureaucrat or noble increases their chances of being recognized.

Changsu shifts, almost leaning out of the window, and Lin Chen crushes a panicked thought that he might fall out of it. Changsu is light, but not so light as to be blown away by the wind. It’s just second nature to fret about him, these days.

The carriage stops and Lin Chen helps Changsu descend before turning to look at their surroundings. Changsus new home base is not even half-ready, but there are some finished buildings in the center of a large, cleared area. The layout reminds him faintly of home. Not surprising, since Langya Halls people drew up the plans and taught the Chiyan soldiers how to follow them. Poor fellows might have known how to set up camp, but only a handful had any idea how to build anything permanent.

Even now their workmanship is inexpert, the buildings utilitarian and simple. This place holds no beauty like Langya Hall. No gardens have been built yet, nothing extraneous – they probably had better accommodations on the road than here.

Still. Half his home, the more vulnerable half, is here. Where else could Lin Chen be?

Two dozen men run from the worksite and kneel to welcome Changsu, their voices rising in an unsynchronized mess of a greeting. Their eyes shine with sincerity and Zhen Pings flames throw visible sparks, as if in celebration. The locals who are working with them stare unabashedly.

”Rise”, Changsu says. ”Zhen Ping. Show me around.”

Lin Chen takes a position by his elbow, supporting him like he’s a frail noble lady, bound feet and all. Changsu lifts an eyebrow at him, but does not protest further. He’s probably too tired, and he receives teasing shows of support better than sincere ones anyway.

They make a round of the empty grounds and half-built empty houses, ending up at the center where the buildings are finished. Lin Chen knows Changsus personal rooms were among the first to be built. Changsu gave up on fighting his men on it. Lin Chen bought Zhen Ping a new hat to commemorate this achievement.

The room intended for Changsu is bigger than the plans called for, which Lin Chen knew to anticipate. There are hand-made shelves full of knickknacks Changsus subordinates must have collected for him while he was too far away to protest.

Plush pillows and blankets pile on them, the sitting mats are thick and quality fabric, and a few pieces of Lin Chens beautiful calligraphy decorate the walls. He can see several hand-warmers and braziers even though it’s still summer. (They never take away the chill that lives inside Changsu now, but they make it more bearable. It’s wrong. Skies are meant to be warm. But Lin Chen is first and foremost a mist, and mists run cool. He can’t spare the energy to help with this.)

Changsu spots the shelf of books and scrolls and turns to Lin Chen. He shrugs, unrepentant. “You expect to drag me to the ends of earth and not bring anything to entertain myself? What kind of barbarian do you take me for?”

And if among the books are local histories and martial arts manuals, collections of maps and lists of sects and their members – well. Who says Lin Chen won’t need those as well as Changsu? He will need reference texts to see if any of the information he collects is new to Langya Hall, for one.

Changsu doesn’t comment on the implication that Lin Chen will stay in his rooms. That’s how it’s been since Meiling. It brings both of them comfort.

Instead Changsu turns to Zhen Ping, who has been waiting quietly for his judgment. “Everything looks to be in order”, he says. “Have the two Langya Hall doctors we brought with us settled in. Provide them with anything they need, and spread the word that their services are free among the locals.”

”Yes, Chief”, Zhen Ping says with a sharp salute. Changsu nods in approval, sways a little as if unbalanced. Not long now…

”Unless there’s anything urgent, I will listen to reports tomorrow. You may leave.”

After Zhen Ping goes, Changsu allows himself to collapse. Lin Chen helps him to settle on a mat and then drops to sprawl next to him. He sneaks his hand into Changsu’s sleeve, taking his pulse while distracting him with chatter.

”You manage to make even sitting down a health hazard. One day I’ll wake up and find out you’ve strangled yourself in your sleep, or something equally ridiculous. No respect for my tireless effort to keep you alive. Why, I should leave you to your own devices and join those two doctors, I bet the villagers would appreciate my efforts. Not that they would know their luck – these poor fellows would probably treat a disgraced apprentice who barely knows how to make a splint with as much regard as they’d show me and my flames -”

”Go on then”, Changsu says. He stops rubbing his eyes with his other hand – his face is lined with exhaustion, but there is life in his eyes. “But don’t nag them like you nag me, or else you’ll get all of us thrown out in short order.”

”Slander! I’ve treated many a patient on our way and brought you some delicious pieces of gossip, and still you doubt my bedside manner? And how do you intend to finance this altruistic streak? The loan we gave you will run out eventually, you know.”

It won’t – Lin Chen wouldn’t bankrupt Langya Hall for Changsu, but they have funds enough to set up a dozen sects. Still. He knows Changsu intends to keep their connection unknown, and for that, he needs to have another source of income.

Changsu nods. “I’ve already sent people to scope out some lesser-known Lin family investments far from the capital. They’re probably still standing but I’ll need to gauge their loyalty before I contact them. And I have other plans as well.”

”You asked the archivists about Taihang thieves before we left”, Lin Chen says. “And I know they have a ‘secret’ base close by. But what do you intend to do with them? Take them over or turn them in?”

”You’ll see”, Changsu says, infuriatingly smug. “Tomorrow, I think I’ll go visit the nearest town and pay my respects to the local yamen and the sects. Courtesy must be observed.”

Lin Chen puts on a scowl instead of beaming. He then begins his campaign to pester Changsu into resting before beginning any of his plans.

Lin Chen manages to make Changsu take a few days to recover from the travel, but that only means Changsu doesn’t leave the grounds. He still goes out to speak with his men and offer encouragement, and to get familiar with the locals working with them. In their sight Changsu is the very definition of a wise and tranquil scholar. All of them shy away at first, but inevitably get drawn in.

Before Meiling, people fluttered around Lin Shu like moths around a flame. When he was happy, you could feel his approval like sunlight on your soul. When he was furious, it was like the entire sky pressed down on your shoulders. Just him noticing you made your heart jump. Most people wouldn’t know why they reacted the way they did – but that only made resisting more difficult. A sky as strong as Lin Shu could pull on even dormant flames.

And to someone as Flame Sensitive as Lin Chen, Lin Shu had been a beacon. Even when not using his flames he radiated them, made everything he touched his and left trail of sky behind him. Lin Chen could track him in the darkest of nights and knew where he looked just from the weight his gaze bestowed on everything.

Changsu feels like an empty void, a loneliness beyond human understanding. It’s a testament to their loyalty that the flame sensitive Chiyan soldiers do not flinch from him. Changsu doesn’t feel human, let alone a sky. Touching him should be revolting.

Yet Changsu is not as different as he thinks he is. His presence still holds a gravity that makes him seem like the center of the world to anyone observing. His people still adore him without any flame or bond influencing them. Even now his people orbit him, almost desperate to see if he’ll approve of their work here. Eager for the slightest word or acknowledgment.

He still bends the world to his will. That’s what makes Lin Chen sure that Changsu can recover.

(Mists function on belief. Mist twists reality to suit their needs, or even their whims, simply with will and intent. Lin Chen believes in Changsu. He can’t afford not to.

What if his belief is the only thing keeping Changsu's heart beating?)

When Changsu meets the local magistrate, he is all politeness and calm, his emotions buried in the emptiness inside his chest.

The magistrate is a slimy old man, just the type to require incentive to do his job at all, let alone well. Changsu still has enough of soldier in him that he finds him utterly repulsive. Such people delay vital supplies and skim from budgets, making the already heavy burden of maintaining an army all the more impossible.

Good thing he was planning on removing the man already. It will take time, but there will be a way. The vase in the corner, too grand for this small place, would have convinced him of it if he didn’t already know.

Arrogant of him, to have it on display. Or just complacent?

It doesn’t really matter. It wouldn’t matter if he was the kindest and most conscientious man in the world. He is in Changsus way, and he will be gone.

Afterwards, he shrugs off his scholarly posture and goes to visit the local sects. He can’t look strong in body, but he can look strong in character, and strong in flame – if he draws on Lin Chens flames. That will have to do.

The first sect he visits is also the smallest. Their leader is a local cloud, and she claims the nearest town as her territory. Changsu is setting up his own base just outside hers.

She’ll be the most difficult one to win over. Her interests lie in the safety of her town and her people, and Changsu knows he’s a troublemaker.

It doesn’t help that she has the common wariness – prejudice, even – towards mists, and that is what Changsu currently reads as. Many people even in the jianghu see mist flames as a dirty trick, because of how hard they are to counter. It’s an unfair but understandable view. He is fairly sure she only agrees to meet him because his men have already made a favorable impression on her.

Changsu likes her. She reminds him of Nihuang and Jingyan – Nihuangs deep, uncompromising love for her home and her people, Jingyans straightforward stubbornness. She doesn’t like him back.

Meeting Heaven’s Secret sect goes better. They are a mercenary sect, but their true focus is collecting martial arts styles and teaching them. Changsu has been elbow-deep in Langya Hall archives for months and has come prepared to impress.

He trades parts of his knowledge for minor favors, to buy good will, but keeps things in reserve. Just in case.

Green Helms of the Canals and the Walkers Sect also have an established local presence, simply because Langzhou is mostly rich with plenty of trade, so most towns have plenty of business for them – to transport goods and to guard trade caravans. Green Helms of the Canals is a rain sect, with their own secret rain style that focuses on water manipulation, and an army of small riverboats and bigger barges. The Walkers are not very martial arts-focused, with only their high ranking members needing to be flame active – but any bandit knows that touching one of theirs is going to bring the whole sect down on their heads. It’s rarely worth it.

Their sect leaders are based elsewhere, in bigger cities, but they both have an office in town that is in charge of their local operations, and Changsu visits them both as well to round things up. By then he’s standing up with only force of will and Lin Chens flames. When the carriage stops at home, Lin Chen sweeps in to carry him to bed, and practically sits on him the next day to keep him there.

Changsu hates being still. He’s allowed too little work and has too little to think about. Changsu needs to be busy, because if he’s not his thoughts turn to ghosts and restless spirits, to death and family and loss.

He misses his old life fiercely. Sometimes he’s tempted to make excuses for his uncle the Emperor. His advisors must have lied to him. I bet there was some forged evidence. There must have been -

But no reason he ever thinks of is sufficient. Not for all the blood and grief and broken families, not for the northern border left near-defenseless, not for the loss of so many good, loyal people. Changsu counts Lin Shu among their number.

The new moon brings with it news of Grand Tutor Lis death. It happened far away in a secluded temple, but Langya hall is the first to know.

When Lin Shu woke, his teachers departure from capital had been a small stone in an avalanche of bad news. He hadn’t thought to worry about his wise teacher, who had pupils and friends scattered all across the land. Like he hadn’t thought to worry about Nihuangs family.

Here, too, he has been wrong.

He turns and gazes over the room. Lin Chen is who brought the news to him, and stands there, sharp eyes watching how he’ll react. Zhen Ping and Li Gang wait by the side, but they seem ready to catch him if he looks ready to collapse. It rankles him. In this moment, it is hard to not be Lin Shu. His muscles strain to maintain a military posture.

“How did he die?”

“Old age”, Lin Chen says, “what else?”

Is that all there is to it? Is this one place where he could have done nothing?

Or perhaps he died of something the Langya Hall could have prevented, or weakened by a grieving heart and harsh travel. Perhaps helping Lin Shu would have been the purpose he needed to go on.

Perhaps he was another loose end cut – unlikely, but not impossible. Would Lin Chen tell him if it was so, when he has been so weakened by their travel? Or would they keep secrets to ‘protect’ him?

He’s so blind here. No news arrives to him that his men do not bring, and he is dependent on them to act for him. And he needs to know everything, to be completely in control, to accomplish even a fraction of what he needs.

Yet for all that he uses them like it, his men are not his arms and legs, Lin Chen is not his subordinate. They love him, he knows, but can he trust them to do what’s necessary, and not try to manage him? (He would be so easy to manage.)

Lin Chen breaks his concentration. “Mourning him properly will set back your health for weeks, perhaps months. Can you afford that delay?”

Changsus frustration and anger spikes – he can’t, but not mourning his teacher is out of the question. He hurls his cup at Lin Chen. His arm still lacks strength and it shatters at his feet. Lin Chen doesn’t even blink, but Li Gang and Zhen Ping drop, their knees giving out instinctively beneath them. Lin Chen folds his arms and lifts an eyebrow at him. The others kowtow, folding beneath his anger.

It reminds him of the court. There, under the emperors anger, Jingyu-dage was the only one to stand. Changsu may as well be an emperor to these people. He is their leader, their chief, their young marshal – their only hope of truth and justice and better life. He is their everything.

Abruptly, he feels ill.

Is this what he’s come to? The kind of leader he is, freed from supervision and given unquestioned power? Driven by anger and hurt, inflicting it on others in turn. Paranoid about the people he should trust the most.

“Rise”, he says, “please rise. I’m not angry at you, and it was unworthy of me to take it out on you. I apologize.”

He bows over clasped hands, and only straightens when Zhen Ping and Li Gang are on their feet, their voices rising in chorus to absolve him. It doesn’t make the guilt go away.

Mei Changsu will become a monster to his enemies, but he must be better to his friends. Teacher would tell him that as well. He must meditate on this, and think on what else he's getting wrong due to his own weaknesses.

He did not tell his teacher of his survival and let him die with a broken heart, but perhaps – no, grandmother can’t be contacted, she’s too closely guarded in the palace. And Nihuang and Jingyan will probably still be watched closely as well.

But he has another, better idea.

Eventually they get word that the Taihang thieves have struck nearby. By then Lin Chen has wormed the whole plan out of Changsu, in exchange for his co-operation.

It was not necessary. Any request from Changsu is like dry tinder to his flames. They flare in his chest, flaring and pushing and struggling. He grips them with iron will, feeling like they’d burn him to ashes just to prove themselves.

But it is better if they are not connected, and so Lin Chen will not take part in the fight openly. He will just be there to make sure it goes as planned. And looks like an accident.

The thieves will soon be delivering their loot to the hideout, where it will rest until the uproar is gone and the loot can be sold with less risk. Langya Halls spies have ascertained several possible routes they might take, and Lin Chen does the scouting to make sure. He suspects the thieves also have a strong mist among them. If they do, they could walk straight by Changsus men without being noticed at all. They have no mist of their own to counter him, no storm to disintegrate illusions, and no sky to see through them.

(Lin Shu had been very good at that.)

He spends most of his time with his attention divided, these days – one part always monitoring his bond with Changsu, sometimes even watching out of his eyes, eavesdropping on his thoughts. (Changsu knows, of course, and as long as he doesn’t mind Lin Chen sees no reason to break the habit. He wonders how far he could sense Changsu from, these days, how far they’d have to be for Lin Chens thoughts not to reach him. If he could go that far at all.)

It has been good training for his flame senses, which reach halfway to the nearest town now. No-one but another mist of at least equal strength will ever be able to ambush him or Changsu.

So he doesn’t need to see the thieves to find them, only to travel to the right direction until he senses their flames. He slips into the mind of one of his birds. It’s used to this and doesn’t startle, just lets him nudge it into flight and to the right direction.

First he can feel a bubble of mist flames – just a veil of nothing-to-see-here, not anything stronger. He directs the bird towards it. Soon he can sense the mist holding the bubble, and two dozen other minds – unguarded and open, but he doesn’t like possessing people much, and it leaves very obvious traces behind regardless.

He takes notes on the flame types. Over half of them are rains, but the rest span the spectrum of the sky – though no actual skies obviously. No lightnings of significant strength either, which is good, they are a hassle to take down. Better that the only ones impervious to weapons are on their side.

They’re on a riverboat. He doesn’t land on it, since he can’t be sure if the mist would sense him from that close. But it seems safe enough to swoop around it high in the sky. With this amount of rains, he suspects the boat belongs to the Green Helms of the Canals, but he wants more to go on than a guess. The techniques he sees the crew use seem to match.

He brings home this interesting news. “I wonder if they know who, and what, they’re carrying”, Changsu muses, fingers worrying the edge of his sleeve. “Arrange a confrontation just as they disembark. Get the canals men caught on it.”

Lin Chen heckles him for trying to give him orders, and makes sure to boss Changsu around in equal measure. And does as he’s told.

Lin Chen knows his heart, but Changsu has a big enough head already.

Zhen Ping stumbles on the ship on a ‘routine patrol’ that had gotten the tiniest bit lost. When the mist is distracted by ensnaring them in illusions, Lin Chen suppresses his flames best he can he sneaks up to the ship. When he knows anyone detecting his flames will assume it’s just one of the canals – he’s on their ship, isn’t he? - he lets slip a tiny sliver of rain.

The thieves' mist user slips on a patch of ice and knocks himself out. Tragic, really. That Lin Chen can’t brag about it.

After that he fades out of sight without having to worry about the other mist noticing. He hangs back to watch the fight. Zhen Ping is really coming along nicely, but still forgets to use his cloud flames in the midst of battle. They’ve been practicing both enhancing Zhen Pings own strength and propagating his sword to adjust its range and weight mid-strike. When he masters that, he’ll truly be something to behold.

Zhen Ping is more natural with using his rain to slow his opponents. But the canals sect members are all active rains as well, and barely notice. They’re suffusing the water with flames and wielding it in some very clever ways. The shields and whips and waves are expected, but there’s even one man that manages to form a thick fog, obscuring visibility and slowing down any non-rain who crosses it. Lin Chen makes notes on the technique in case he ever wants to reverse-engineer it. Probably on a river or sea journey that gets boring.

Non-optimal flame use aside, the battle still goes as planned. The thieves’ storms have excellent control, but Changsus men are forewarned and take them out from a distance, without risk of getting disintegrated. The only cloud is slowed by all the rain in the air and not very strong to begin with, and the sun fares better but seems an inexperienced combatant.

The mist user used his flames first, so Changsus men were not the aggressors. All of them make it out alive if not unscathed, and captives are taken, including the boat with its illicit loot. Changsu should be able to do quite a bit with that.

He turns home by pure instinct. He never has trouble finding Changsu, even though his presence is shrunken and distorted, a hole in the fabric of life. It pulls him with a force like gravity.

(It shouldn’t affect Lin Chen like this. He’s not some newly activated fledgling, or a pup raised on sky worship. His father is a sky, and meets and corresponds with skies all over. One broken sky shouldn’t overwhelm him like this.

But this is the sky Lin Chen chose, and that makes all the difference.)

This time Changsu doesn’t bother setting up a meeting. Instead he walks into the canals’ local offices and informs them that he has a meeting with the branch leader – whether he knows it or not. Unless the man would prefer that Changsu informs the other sects without hearing him out first – yes, that’s what he thought. No, his men will not stay outside. No, he’s not here to fight, but he’s not stupid.

(Granted, Lin Chen would probably be enough security and the canals might never even notice, but Changsu is not risking it. He owes Langya Hall everything he still has. And it would be an unnecessary complication.)

The branch leader has a few guards of his own, but not many. Good. It probably means the co-operation with the Taihang Thieves is not widely known, which probably means that the canals won’t be collateral damage. The power vacuum a sect their size would leave would be inconvenient.

“I seem to have something of yours”, Changsu says after their greetings. “Ten somethings, if you count the ship itself.”

The branch leader draws himself to full height. “Indeed! How wise of you to come and make amends yourself. If not, I would have been forced to approach the other sects and inform them. An unprovoked attack on our territory! But perhaps we can still work something out, keep your reputation intact.”

Changsu listens to the huffing and puffing without a change in expression. “I think”, he says mildly, “you’ll find we’re not the ones who want to keep this quiet. Attacking my men, well, this is the jianghu and none of mine were significantly injured, so that could be excused. And unloading cargo in the night in the middle of nowhere? Perhaps some officials would take a closer look at your ships in the future, but there’s no proof of smuggling in just that, is there?

“But the cargo in question, now that is a different thing. I admit I was very curious to see what your men defended with such fervor, so I took a look.” He draws a jade token from his sleeve, holds it to the light. “Isn’t it beautiful? Look at the detailing, masterful work. Fit for an emperor, would you not say? And wouldn’t you know, just such an item is rumored to have been stolen just some days ago upstream from here. It was a gift from one of the princes, I hear.

“But tokens are everywhere.” At his gesture, one of the guards opens a case they were carrying and unrolls a painting. “But this! Either this is an original painting of Sun Boqin, which has been on display in the manor of the Zhen family for thirty years, or else your customers are very convincing forgers as well as excellent fighters.”

The branch leader has paled – he certainly couldn’t have known exactly what they were smuggling, exactly, but surely he knew who their clients were? Or perhaps not. Better to make sure.

“You did know you were ferrying a group of Taihang Thieves, did you not?”

“Well”, the branch leader blusters, “we ferry all sorts of people! Nothing wrong with taking clients and not asking questions!”

“So this is a one-time occurrence, then?” Changsu says, knowing it isn’t. “Your men seemed very eager to help these clients and fight on their side, enough to attack my men. Quite commendable dedication to duty, for not even repeat clients.”

“Look. So maybe they’re stealing. But we’re jianghu, what do we care for their laws?”

“Laws? No. But stability? Jianghu and the government are very careful not to cross certain lines. And with who the owners were”, he taps the jade carving with a finger, “one could certainly argue the thieves are overstepping them. If the Emperors closest have to be afraid of thieves slipping into their houses and carrying off their valuables, then surely someone with similar skills could slip in to slit their throats. And that is just the thing to – tip the power balance. With an emperor such as ours, and with the recent events…”

He trails off and lets their imaginations handle the rest.

After a long, exhausting conference, Changsu and the Canals' branch leader turn in the thieves and their loot to the local magistrate. With an honest, decent magistrate, this would be the end of it. He is fairly certain that this magistrate is in league with the thieves, but even if not, he's sure the loot will be too big of a temptation.

They also call for a meeting of the local Sects. The Taihang thieves may view this as a betrayal from the Canals, and may desire retribution for their capture. (The magistrate may wish to eliminate anyone who knows he has the loot.) It's only sensible to expect trouble, and only honorable to warn the other sects in case they get caught in the crossfire.

None of the other sects are exactly thrilled with them. They don't care for the rich or the official, whereas the thieves are also jianghu of sorts.

Still, Changsu doesn't worry about any of them siding with the thieves. He isn't asking anything of them (for now), merely warning that there might be some unrest ahead, and why.

The thieves disappear – it is announced that they are executed, but Changsu doubts this.

The expect retaliation comes some time later, with an attack on the canals' branch leader. Changsu has men constantly watching over the town now, so Li Gang is there to prevent a catastrophe.

There are still injuries, some of them quite severe. And collateral damage where they were attacked in the marketplace. And the attackers got away.

Changsu goes to pay and to apologize for the damages in person. For once he doesn't try to disguise his sickly and frail nature, which lures the thieves in for a second try. They first try to kill him from a distance – rightly worried that a mist of 'his' caliber would sense them if they tried to come close. When Zhen Ping leaves his side to chase down the attacker, the rest try to take him on.

Foolish. Lin Chens illusions ensnare all but the storm, who can disintegrate them with a flare of his flames. For him they put on a bit of a show.

The storm disintegrates the mud he sinks in, the chains that shoot out to catch him, the roots that try to trip him, the weapons that appear out of nowhere and hurl themselves toward him. He's strong.

With the amount of storm the thief is throwing around not even the subtlest of illusions will take hold, anything conjured will be reduced to ashes, and even possession would be risky. That rules out most mist skills. Lin Chen could still defeat him, Changsu has no doubt, but it is sufficient to keep him back. He wants the thieves to feel like they have a fighting chance, or else they might just cut their losses.

The storm retreats when he realizes he's tiring faster than 'Changsu' is. Which is not true, the amount of dodging has him dizzy. But Lin Chen is the one actually controlling and supplying the flames, so that his attention is not divided, and Lin Chen is not tiring yet.

This fight has caused a significant amount of damage, and Changsu sends his men immediately to offer repairs and build replacements. He also goes personally around to offer his apologies and promise compensation for the inconvenience. In the local clouds eyes, this almost makes up for causing trouble in her territory in the first place.

The yamen is suspiciously silent that day. No soldiers have interrupted either fight. It is policy to not interfere in Jianghu squabbles. But when civilians get involved and the fight comes practically to their doorstep, most magistrates would act anyway.

That, and some of their attackers' strong resemblance to the 'executed' thieves, is enough proof to take to the local sects.

Balance between jianghu and the government is always a little precarious. Just one strong sect has enough flame users to overwhelm the palace and kill the emperor, if they have surprise on their side. The jianghu combined could take out all of Da Liangs armies. Not without heavy losses – but they could.

At the same time, any one sect could be wiped out by the armies without too much trouble. Only combined is the jianghu too much for them. The emperors are always very careful to let the jianghu do their thing without too much interference, lest the sects unite against him. But the emperors always react extremely violently to any sect involving itself in politics, lest they set a precedent.

To avoid the government meddling in their affairs, and the losses and collateral damage of an all-out battle, the sects also police each other. And while bribing a single magistrate is not always enough for a sect to become an outcast, in this case...

"The thieves already have the ire of the government simply due to what they are", Changsu says to the gathered Sect representatives. "Adding to that who they target, and co-operation with the local government... If the Emperor ever finds them, the armies are descending on them. And possibly on any other local sects who failed to police their own. Let the thieves operate somewhere else, but we can not afford to have one of their bases here."

There is no arguing that basic point, but the sects are still too divided. The local cloud wants to go and kick the thieves out of her town, but they don't know where their hideout is (Changsu doesn't expect them to actually stay in the yamen, that would eliminate all plausible deniability). The heavens secret sect doesn't intend to act unless the thieves make more trouble. The walkers want to report the thieves in to a higher authority to spite the canals. The canals oppose this fiercely, as any of this becoming public knowledge would be a huge blow to their reputation.

Mei Changsu bites his lip and tells himself this is good practice. These honor-before-reason types are everywhere in the jianghu, and he needs to be able to manipulate them.

Lin Chen wakes up gasping for breath, trying to curl around the emptiness in his chest. He can barely see Changsu in the dark. He is sitting up, eyes turned toward Meiling, like there’s some mystical sense that always tells him his relation to it.

The bond is quiet, nearly imperceptible. That is what woke Lin Chen to begin with. It’s not the first time, but it always panics him. It’s not natural for Changsu to be like this – unfeeling. Cold. Barely present at all.

Pain, fury, grief – they are all easier to deal with than this.

He reaches out, both with his hands and his flames. Now that Changsu he relies on Lin Chens flames and has none of his own, his body and mind offer no resistance to them. Lin Chen could probably puppet Changsu with barely a thought.

Changsu doesn’t react at all. The bond between them feels almost gone.

A bond is not meant to be held up from only one side. It drains Lin Chen like it never did before, and he fears it may one day snap entirely. If his will falters even for a heartbeat – just one moment of weakness, just one thought of I wish I didn’t -

No matter. He won’t let it happen.

He turns Changsu to look towards him, and that makes Changsu stir slightly. Still so quiet, but at least reacting. A sense of self-loathing suffuses the bond, before it withdraws. Changsu is pulling away.

Lin Chen wants to shake him. Instead he just holds tighter.

“And what are you thinking now, hm?” He doesn’t want to name any of the things that come to mind – if Changsu is not thinking of being a burden, or of how broken he feels, or any of the myriad things that have launched an episode like this before, well. Lin Chen won’t be the one to remind him. “Something silly, I don’t doubt. Tell me, so I can tell you exactly how stupid you are being.”

It takes long moments for Changsu to respond. “Today. Today I gave orders that will end with the magistrate in ruin, and me ruling over this area.”

It takes Lin Chen a moment to formulate a response. That's such a nothing reason. Lin Chen pulls strings from Langya Hall and governments crumble, families fall to ruin, economies collapse. He doesn't feel a moments regret. He's not responsible for them.

"And why do you care?"

"After today, those who think me a traitor will be right."

This is not just from what he did today. Even after the massacre, Lin Shu (and he is Lin Shu right now) could hold his innocence in his heart. Know he was loyal to the end.

"And in this land, this government, who remains that would be worth your loyalty?"

Lin Shu scoffs. “Of course you don’t understand. You’re Jianghu.” Lawless, his tone says, full of old dismissiveness.

Ah. Lin Shu was trained to be a soldier from birth. Loyalty and obedience would have been hammered into his head from all directions.

Lin Chen shrugs. “So it may not have been lawful, or what the people in power want. But it was the right thing to do. And don’t try to tell me you would have done it even if it wasn’t, you don’t fool me. You’re still as much of an idealist as you ever were, you just no longer expect other people to be.” He taps Changsu on the forehead, forces him to focus. “If it wasn’t the right thing. You would find another way. A way to turn him to the right path instead. You really will fit into the Jianghu just fine. And is that such a bad thing? I’m hurt.”

Changsu startles, just the tiniest flinch, and for a moment he feels more present. Almost alive.

Lin Chen takes a deep, deliberate breath, turns his sigh of relief into a pout. That wasn’t a flinch from being like Lin Chen – but from implying it was a bad thing to be. Just as always they way to get at Changsu is through his precious people. Sky indeed.

And Lin Chen is not at all above using it to his advantage. He’ll dig Changsu out of this hole in his mind as many times as it takes. And if his hands or heart bleed from the effort – that’s just more motivation for Changsu to pull his own weight in his own healing.

The first pawn to fall in line is the local cloud. Her sect has been sweeping the whole area, intending to challenge the thieves and drive them off. Changsu warns her that the thieves must have incredible stealth skills, considering who they are, but his warnings fall on deaf ears.

As expected.

The thieves manage to ambush her forces, because of course they do. Changsu is there to save the day. She's far from happy about that. But she is a honorable woman who pays her debts, and that is all he needs from her.

The next thing to do is to fan the rumors about how good fighters the thieves must be, to best her so easily. That gets heavens secret sect interested. Now the thieves are worthy opponents to learn from.

By then there have been two more attempts, more subtle ones, on the canals' branch leader. He's getting decently paranoid and desperate to get this all over with.

The walkers finally get fed up with the local unrest and rumors about thieves, which are starting to hurt their business. Now that everyone wants the thieves gone, the only thing to do is to arrange things so that Mei Changsu can be in charge of the strategy.

The cloud already owes him, the walkers are not a militaristic sect, the canals are desperate. Mei Changsu arranges a bet with the sect leader of Heavens secret sect, and wins it by finding the thieves' base first. After he's secured the unquestioned right to dictate their strategy, the only thing to do is to win.

Mei Changsu stands at the head of their charge, Lin Chens flames at his fingertips, making him seem more like a fallen ruin of a man. The battle swirls around him and he arranges it as he pleases, shifting terrain to their advantage, distracting enemy combatants, helping his men set up ambushes.

He's no longer a fierce fighter. But he still knows the flow of battle, still knows where an intervention will cascade into a victory. And he needs to show it. This common fight will fertile ground for building an alliance, but only if his strategy is flawless.

After the fight is over and the thieves' hideout is theirs, he sweeps through it in person. He finds more than he bargained for.

The piles of trinkets left over from long-past heists are to be expected. The cages are not.

Until then, Mei Changsu had thought to fold the thieves into his growing network, if he could. After this, he takes the sect leaders to see what he has found.

Locked up in the hideout are flame-active children. Many of them are thin, others bruised. Some are orphans, some stolen from their families.

Where the thieves saw potential, they didn't stop to ask. They took. Perhaps some of the thieves they fought were once like these children. Taken far from home, trained and broken until they joined their captors just to survive. Made to commit crimes and told there was now no other place for them.

The local cloud takes the children away with her. Mei Changsu helps the branch leader of the canals to a seat when it looks like he may faint. Others give him part-judging, part-pitying glances.

None of them knew, how could the canals have known?

After, when the sect leaders meet, they agree to spread the word. Even the canals, who may suffer from their involvement with the thieves becoming public knowledge.

But there are other branches of the thieves, other hideouts. The Jianghu polices itself. These crimes must be told.

As this is going on, Mei Changsu makes note of every piece of recently stolen loot that isn't in the hideout. Particularly things he knows where turned over with the thieves to the magistrate.

His people, abusing Langya Hall connections, track the origins of these pieces. He can’t take the law into his own hands – for stability, the jianghu and the government must be kept separate. But he can send an anonymous letter to the former owners of these pieces, some of whom are high ranking and temperamental enough to come and see things for themselves.

The magistrate tries to kill him a few more times, then tries to convince his high-ranking visitors of his innocence. Within the month, the magistrate has been disgraced. Mei Changsu visits the new magistrate as soon as the post is filled once more, when autumn winds are rising and days growing shorter. He’s easy to read – ambitious and conceited, hates being relegated to this lonely, insignificant corner of the world. If there’s an opportunity to buy, bribe or blackmail his way up the ranks, he’ll take it. So Mei Changsus ever growing network feeds him a few lies that convince him he can do just that, and he digs his grave eagerly.

His superiors are eager to destroy him, after he tries to blackmail them with faulty and incomplete information.

After that Mei Changsu starts getting quite a few sideways looks. Being known as a mist is not helping with that – common prejudice paints mists as deceptive and twisty opportunists. It is not all true, but for some people, prejudice is all the knowledge they have.

But he has gone out of his way to learn to know the locals, to speak with them when he sees them, to be the wise and tranquil scholar in front of them. They might suspect some part of it is a mask, but they’re not about to throw away a good thing by drawing his ire.

He spreads rumors that he despises corruption. From that angle, the people will see principles behind his manipulation, and not self-interest. Or at least not only self-interest. And cleaning out the corruption he sees is useful. Money that would go to line pockets can be used to fix the roads, posts that would go to bootlickers can go to competent civil servants.

It is satisfying, watching his little territory blossom like a spring flower. It makes him feel accomplished.

In a town small as theirs there are few unsolved crimes and abuses of power, but he pokes around until he finds what he can and brings justice to the wronged parties. It’s good for building loyalty and good for his reputation, so he starts to do the same on his infrequent visits into the nearby towns.

By the time the third official is sent in, the locals come to him when he tries to demand favors and confiscate any possessions he likes. Mei Changsu arranges for his downfall by intercepting his correspondence and tweaking it in minor ways, until the perceived incompetence gets him summoned home in shame.

It’s a bit more underhanded than he’d prefer – he would get into massive trouble if it came out. Sect-ending, running for their lives levels of trouble. But the man wasn’t really doing anything illegal by harassing peasants, and didn’t have a shady past he could reveal, so the best angle to exploit was his already frayed relationship with his proud, aristocratic family. And he trusts Lin Chen and his flames to not leave any trace.

The fourth person is a young civil official, almost fresh off the civil service exams. Mei Changsu reads a report on him – he’s from a distant branch family of some noble house, grown up in a small town much like theirs. Meeting him and giving him the now-familiar courtesy gifts takes a few days, and by then he’s already started cleaning up the administration.

Mei Changsu likes him. He’s eager to serve, but not completely naive, and has a good grasp of finances.

Mei Changsu has him watched just in case, but mostly washes his hands off the matter. He has no intent to interfere with a competent, or at least well-meaning, magistrate.

The building of their sect grounds is advancing nicely, and Mei Changsu sends a few more letters. When Zhen Ping and Li Gang traveled the area, they made allies. Now is about time to invite those allies to meet Mei Changsu himself.

He has a town with nothing but good things to say about him, where he employs almost half of the people. He has neighboring sects that think well of him. It is time to make his name known in the wider jianghu.

Chapter Text

Mei Changsu has been trying to relearn his skills, one by one, but it’s slow going. Lin Chen has been bugging him to focus more on music, instead of anything practical. He probably hopes that as music helped Changsu to call on his flames once, they might help him reignite them now.

Playing a qin tears his fingertips to shreds, now that they are without the calluses born of long practice. When he points this out, Lin Chen just rolls his eyes and puts a flute in his hands. The amount of effort he needs to put into playing is frustrating and his fingers are lacking in dexterity. Even a few notes leave him winded.

Changsu resigns himself to relearning anyway. It’s not just Lin Chens nagging – he’s missed playing music. But he’s not going to let all and sundry hear his amateur attempts, and there is currently absolutely no privacy anywhere on the half-built grounds. Even his rooms are not necessarily safe, so Changsu takes to bringing his flute on walks as he familiarizes himself with the area.

On one if these, he stops for a moment sit by a pond. Zhen Ping – his designated minder on these walks – leans against a tree nearby, a large hat shading his eyes. It’s a nice day, sunny and mild, with no wind to speak of. He doesn’t have any plans at all. No morning training, no tutors to hound him, no younger cousins and their chatter -

He loses himself in a challenging song, just to stop thinking. It’s a nice day.

When opens his eyes, his bag is gone. He looks around, wondering if a fox or some other animal had smelled the snacks Lin Chen forces on him. Zhen Ping comes alert as he moves, looking around as well.

There’s a little boy in the tree. He’s thrown things out of the bag, scattering everything inedible on the forest floor, and currently he’s tearing through the bundle of rice he’s found like a starving animal. His clothes are tattered – rags, really – and his hair as wild as any Changsu has ever seen.

Zhen Ping follows his gaze, but doesn’t seem to see the boy. Changsu blinks, focuses. Now that he is paying attention the air is heavy with the thick, damp feeling of Mist flames. The boy must be using them, which helps explain why neither Zhen Ping nor Changsu sensed him at all.

The boy finishes the rice, rummages around in the bag once more, then throws it away. Then the boy notices Changsu watching him even through the curtain of obfuscating mist. They stare at each other for a heartbeat, then the boy bolts.

Changsu cocks his head. He doesn’t have the strength to chase the boy, and Zhen Ping didn’t see him at all. There’s nothing he can really do.

But the boy did look very hungry.

(His mind flashes to the emaciated kids in the Taihang thieves' hideout. There were empty cages, there. He can't be sure, but a mist of that caliber might well have escaped.)

The next day Changsu comes back, drops a bundle of food at the foot of the tree where he saw the boy last time, sits exactly where he sat before and starts to play. This time he takes care to keep paying attention to his surroundings, and notices when the thick feeling of mist settles on the clearing once more. It’s strong, roughly equal in strength to Lin Chens. It’s probably only their bond that lets Changsu see through it.

He doesn’t react, and when he next stops his playing the food has vanished. The boy is nowhere to be seen, but Changsu didn’t expect him to linger.

Lin Chen takes one look at his face when he returns and asks: “Is there something I should know?”

"Probably." Changsu hopes he can bring the boy home, soon.

The winds get colder and stronger, settling into his bones as autumn approaches. After three more trips to feed the boy, with Lin Chen hovering and glowering more after each one, he comes back with a fever.

“You’re so reckless with your health”, Lin Chen complains. “I should have puppeteered you back at the first sign of rain. Apparently I can’t trust your guard dogs to keep you safe from the weather.”

“Don’t blame Zhen Ping”, Changsu says between coughs.

“No, I blame you!”

The fever locks him inside, makes him shiver even under blankets and feel constantly ill. His nightmares flare up with a vengeance once more, and he spends his nights buried and stabbed and betrayed over and over again.

Lin Chen tries teas and salves and brews to ease his sleep, and some work for a while. None work for long. All Lin Chen can do is to enter his dreams.

"It's not necessary", Changsu says after Lin Chen pulls him from yet another snowdrift. The guilt of making Lin Chen relive this with him is almost as heavy on his shoulders as the memory itself.

"I am so sick and tired of your self-sacrificing bullshit", Lin Chen says. He waves his hand, and their surroundings shift into Langya Hall in summer.

Lin Chen gains a snappish disposition from lack of sleep and dark rings under his eyes. Yet nothing will dissuade him from cutting short his own sleep to drag Changsu out of his nightmares. Changsu is profoundly grateful for the care and immensely resentful for needing it.

When Changsu finally gets to go out again, after weeks and weeks of convalescence, the boy is there waiting. Changsu keeps his body language relaxed and open, opens the bag and shows the boy the food inside. Leaves it open and closes his eyes.

He can still feel Zhen Ping stiffen. Apparently the boy is less careful today, if Zhen Ping can see him. He’s known what they were doing here, of course. He doesn’t like it that there’s a mist around he can’t see and can’t protect Changsu from. But Zhen Ping was once upon a time an orphan and a street kid. He’s sympathetic.

He repeats the trip as many times as it takes for the boy to stay and eat in his vicinity, then a few more until the boy won’t bolt even after eating. Changsu still doesn’t approach the boy, keeps his body language relaxed and open. He’d prefer to get this done before winter – both for his own heath, and for the boys sake. But hurrying might undo his progress thus far. Besides, it’s nice to have a project that doesn’t have anything to do with Meiling, or Da-Liang, or anything from his former life.

He wishes they could speak. Maybe then he could better convince the boy to follow him. But the boy never seems to understand when Changsu tries, just bolts faster. He’s not deaf, Changsu has seen him react to sounds plenty of times – but who knows when a person last spoke to him. Or even in what language.

“You were gone for a long time today”, Lin Chen comments, and pushes hot flame-soaked drinks in his hands every time as he leaves.

One day the boy approaches him, darting glances at the bag which still contains Changsus own snack. Changsu digs it out and offers it for the boy, and the boy stares at him for a long time before coming close enough to snatch it and bolt. This repeats until the boy is sure Changsu isn’t going to try and grab him even if he’s in arms reach.

The boy starts to linger. Changsu glances at him occasionally, notes which songs the boy seems to like listening to more than others, plays his favorites more often. He can’t tell if the boy even notices, but he starts bringing food to Changsu. Animals he caught, sometimes a fish. Changsu cleans them – it’s more practice for fine motor skills, he doesn’t mind – cooks them over a fire, offers them back to the boy. He appreciates the reciprocity, but he doesn’t need the food as much as the boy does.

Eventually he manages to get the boy to sit close, then to let him touch his hair and take out the twigs and leaves he seems to collect by the handful. By then they can communicate quite well. Changsu has to be intentional and clear with his own signals, but the boys body language is easy to understand. He doesn’t guard it at all, yet when Changsu reads it the boy becomes just as amazed and fascinated and afraid as if he’d read his thoughts.

Now that he has been able to get close, to touch, he knows there is more wrong with the boy than malnutrition. His flames are warped, corrupted, painful. So strong, yet so wrong. What could have twisted him so, Changsu can’t say and barely dares to think. (The boy reminds him of himself.)

Lin Chen is the best doctor around. If Changsu can get the boy to cooperate, Lin Chen will help.

Next time he leaves to see the boy, he tells Lin Chen to follow after. Lin Chen lifts his eyebrows.

“I finally get to see what you’ve been up to?”

"Are you trying to imply you haven't spied on me even once?" Lin Chen is incurably curious. Changsu sympathizes. He has the same affliction.

Lin Chens sleeves flap like wings as he turns to swat at Changsu, enviably light on his feet. "I have more things to do than to just watch over you night and day. Perhaps you should do something for me, once. I got a new pile of tricky questions from Langya Hall just this morning..."

They keep up the chatter, until Lin Chen all but blinks out of existence and materializes on the other side of the clearing, with the boy tugged under one arm.

"Is this little ruffian where all the snacks I hand-picked for you have gone?" Lin Chen says, containing the twisting and kicking child with enviable ease, swatting his flames down like brushing off a fly. "No wonder you can't keep any weight if you feed all your food to the local wildlife."

Changsu pries Lin Chens arms off the child. "Behave", he says, flicking Lin Chen on the forehead as the child hides behind him. Lin Chen pouts.

"Changsu, he might have fleas. He might have ticks. Look at all that matted hair! Let me check him over."

"And you will", Changsu says, redirecting Lin Chens grabby hands and holding the boy close. Internally, he is delighted that he boy lets him do it. He was by no means sure that the boy viewed him as safe yet. "Later. Sit down, Lin Chen."

The boy looks on admiringly as he bullies Lin Chen. He's a little jumpy but settles in for their usual routine, eating his snack with one wary eye on Lin Chen but barely noticing as Changsu picks leaves off his hair.

He plays for both of them and bickers with Lin Chen and bribes the kid with more food.

"Would you let us see that you're not hurt anywhere?" Changsu says. "We'd need to touch your wrist, nothing else for now. I promise."

The boy offers him his hand hesitantly. Changsu lets it rest on his palm, careful to keep from restraining the boy.

Lin Chen leans closer, and the boy tenses. Changsu pats his head. "Lin Chen is mine, and I promise he means you no harm. He speaks a lot of nonsense but he is the best doctor you could ask for. Will you let him touch here?"

He taps his finger on the veins on the much too thin wrist. The boy glances between them, but doesn't bolt when Lin Chen sets two of his fingers there, their touch light as a feather.

"Thank you", Changsu says, petting the boy some more. "You're really brave." He keeps complimenting the boy until Lin Chen withdraws, discreetly wiping his fingers on his hems.

The boy's flames are truly a mess. Lin Chen has never felt the like. Whether the reason is how they were activated, or how he's been taught...

They're knotted and frayed like old yarn at the mercy of a hundred kittens. Any flame but mist in such a state would have broken irreparably.

But mist flames are adaptable. When you try to force them, they slip through your fingers.

Still, the damage is severe and Lin Chen has no cure. Injuries of flame are always tricky. Every individual reacts differently. Some find their flames weakening, or even lose them entirely. Some have trouble activating them or lose all control of them.

But though the boy may never recover fully, he is still clearly able to use his mist. And he has two strong secondaries. Sun and cloud. He hasn't learned to call on them yet. With the state of his mist flame that can only be good. They've thus far been spared the mangling the mist flames have endured.

The boy will need to be taught to access them carefully. A wrong step in the process might make things worse, might set up a feedback loop with his secondaries fueling the corruption and mangling of his primary flame. But sun is a healing flame, and from the damage Lin Chen felt in his body, the boy will probably need it, should he ever wish to grow up.

He watches as Changsu slowly coaxes the boy into accompanying them back. It's plain the boy is already halfway wrapped around his finger. Lin Chen owns a mirror, he knows what senseless devotion looks like.

The boy follows them to the sect but not inside any buildings. Changsu orders a bath built outside and has Lin Chen keep the water warm enough to steam in the late autumn air. Then he spends an hour talking the boy into a bath and another hour combing all the tangles out of his hair while his little body slowly relaxes into the warmth.

The boy still refuses to follow them inside, so Changsu orders a futon and a big pile of blankets to be left on his rooftop. Lin Chen lifts him up so that he can show the boy what they're supposed to do.

(What kind of life must a child lead that he doesn't recognize a bed?)

Lin Chen shakes his head and goes to find a drink. He'll come back to get Changsu down before the chill of the evening really sets in.

The new project seems to invigorate Changsu. He has always liked to be kept busy, and a feral child certainly keeps him so. Lin Chen commandeers an empty room for a laboratory and makes concoctions to keep both of them from keeling over in the winter cold. He and Changsu make up a regimen of exercises to correct growth defects in both his body and hid flame, and to prepare him for activating the secondary flames in the future.

Changsu can not keep up with the child, and he can disappear from all other Changsus men, so actual teaching is tragically left to Lin Chen. The child is a biter.

Changsu laughs at him as he disinfects and heals tiny teethmarks from his hands for the third day in a row.

"This is not funny!" Lin Chen hisses. He feels like he's bathing in sunlight. How long has it been since he saw Changsu laugh with such abandon?

"Like master, like student", Changsu cackles.

Lin Chen rounds on him in affront. "I was never this bad! Who has been telling lies?"

Changsu just muffles laughter into his sleeves.

But he can be trusted to coax the boy into drinking his medicine. And after the first lecture Lin Chen gives about 'setting a good example', he can also be trusted to drink his own without complaint. Even if he makes faces at the taste.

Perhaps the child will turn into a strength instead of a burden.

They name the child Fei Liu, after calling him 'boy' starts to feel awkward. He is such a willful child, but then, is Changsu any better? They suit each other.

Lin Shu is truly a sky, and a fairly external one – of course his biggest motivations focus on other people. What does he care about his own heart? But the people he loves… for them, he will try his hardest.

The more people he has to worry over him, the more guilt and pain his death would cause, the more fiercely he fights. Though Changsus men are excellent, they are also foolish to try to shield Changsu from their troubles and grief. Changsu needs to see how irreplaceable he is in their hearts.

Lin Chens greatest wish is for Changsu to have the strength to live in full and follow his heart. To make the world where that could be achieved... he will use any tool necessary. Including this child.

In the deepest winter months, a letter arrives. It has taken many a detour from Jinling. Mei Changsu snatches it from Lin Chens curious hands (he knows the shape and feel of each of his calluses, by this point) and lets Lin Chen read it over his shoulder.

There are precious few people from Lin Shus life that aren't in some way connected to the court. Writing the people he misses most would be foolish. Might as well line them up for the executioner himself.

But mistress Meng is an unassuming young woman from a poor background, married to a man famous for his honesty. She spends her time keeping house and doing charity work. They don't have money to give, but she donates her time and effort and skills at organizing.

If you haven't met mistress Meng, you wouldn't know she's keen-witted and wise-hearted and good at keeping secrets. Her kind smiles and worn hands are enough to get even the high-born women, used to harem intrigue, to dismiss her.

(Lin Shu grew up around aunt Jingyi. Changsu knows not to conflate a soft heart with a dull mind.)

So Mei Changsu felt confident enough to write her – under a pseudonym and in code, which he knew she would find curious enough to put the effort into cracking.

Meng-dage can't afford any suspicion, but who would suspect his wife?

She has addressed the letter to 'her favorite niece'. Mei Changsu knows she does truly have several nieces, but she also used to call him her 'favorite didi', while he called her 'sister-in-law'. His hands tremble and he wills himself to breathe.

We are overjoyed that you have arrived safely. I know moving so far away can be hard, and so much can happen on the way. The distance from your loved ones is particularly hard to bear. But be reassured that we keep you in our hearts.

Why, my husband was so startled by your departure that he was ready to pack up and leave after you, or at least admonish your father for sending you off so suddenly. But I talked him down. It is simply a part of life we must live with, now.

How are things in your new life? You must write us and tell us all about it. But do not linger on thoughts of us too much. Be sure to enjoy new things as well!

Still. Should you need something, both of us urge you to simply ask. What else is family for?

I confess I have not kept up with the gossip, which I know you delight in. Our adopted son has been in uncommonly delicate health, and I have not found much enjoyment in society. Now that the worst has passed I will try to do better. But I will tell you what I do know.

My husband has recently found a new minister particularly irritating, -

She segues into a long list of innocuous rumors. From them, Mei Changsu can glean who was replaced (probably dead), who is in favor at court and who isn't, and whether that favor has anything to do with the chiyan case.

"A woman after my own heart", Lin Chen says admiringly. "She is wasted in her marriage."

Mei Changsu feels light. He truly has such good people in his life.