Chapter Text
The steps of the Zhao manor were usually a pristine, shining slate grey, polished to perfection on a weekly basis to ensure that no visitor could arrive without bearing witness to Zhao Jing's many resources. That night, though, the blood had soaked them through to the core of the stone so that they appeared sticky and black. Bodies tumbled down the steps and onto the street from the gateway, pushed one by one by reluctant servants, who dragged the unlucky victims of their master's wrath out from the courtyard where they had met their doom.
"Don't," one of the corpses spat out hoarsely, lifting his head with his last stretch of life. Both of the servants dropped the bodies they were carrying in surprise, and the body in front of the corpse that had spoken fell forwards, rolling down the steps with dull thuds and the scrape of bone. As if possessed - and perhaps he had been - the still living corpse grabbed at the sleeve of his deceased companion, and he pulled him close until they were falling together, wheezing air out of broken ribs as he tried to cushion the fall of his friend.
The two servants watched the scene with growing discomfort. One of them looked away, tugging his sleeve over his dirtied hand. The other leaned forward, as fascinated as he was disgusted, until he saw the two land in a pile at the foot of the stairs, the bodies of the rest of their companions surrounding them.
"Tragic," he said. "They must have loved each other."
"It's what they deserve," the other spoke quick and harsh, shaking his head with fervour. "They were fools to think that they could assassinate our master - tonight of all nights."
"Yeah...do you think he's still alive?"
"Don't check. If you check you'll have to take care of it. He won't be alive for long, anyway. Come and clean the courtyard, or it'll stink for days."
The two servants turned their back on the stairs. At the base, one man continued to cradle the other close. He was too near death to cry, eyes dry of any sheen or substance, but his lips moved silently, flecked with the blood of his companion as well as his own. His fingers shook, tangling in the corpse's matted hair, the syllables of an apology failing to escape his throat.
It was this sight that Wen Kexing came upon, drawn by the scent of blood to the threshold of his enemy. He padded among the bodies, the tendrils of his essence reaching out to investigate like a hungry cat, but there was no vitality here for him to feed on, not even in the one that was still living. He stood over the pair, looking down with an expression of apathy, and the pale hem of his robes turned red with their blood.
The corpse shouldn't have been able to see, but he still managed to open his eyes, locking his gaze with Kexing's and stealing the breath from his lungs. It should have been the other way round - a man so close to death, seeing the ornate robes, vulpine ears and nine restless tails that Kexing bore behind him would have thought that he was seeing a god. For all intents and purposes, that was what Kexing was; what he had made himself to be. Instead it was Kexing that was made speechless. Before he had been torn by Zhao Jing's swords, his features had been sharp and clear; his jaw was square and set. Kexing had never seen this man before. And yet those black eyes held Kexing in captivity, the shine of the moon fading fast in them as he was seen, completely and utterly, by this dying soul.
Kexing crouched. He grasped the dying man's hand.
"What's your name?" he commanded. There was no human that could resist his words, even if they had the energy to try. He spoke even though he had no voice left, and Kexing heard him clearly.
"Zhou Zishu. Please... Save him."
He was talking about the ragdoll he held onto, gutted and spilling onto the stomach of Zhou Zishu, who only held him tighter as if he could press his own essence into his ward. Zhou Zishu's own pulse stuttered like a struggling candle, eager to join his friend in silence.
"It's too late for him," Kexing spoke quietly. "You, though..."
Zhou Zishu was unconscious before Wen Kexing cut his own palm. When he used his thumb to part Zhou Zishu's lips, they were cold and pliant, his tongue stiff in his mouth. The blood ran freely as a channel down his fingers, pressed deep against the base of Zhou Zishu's throat.
They stayed that way for an incense burn, until the blood on Kexing's palm began to congeal and slow its course. He rose, walking away slowly, and smiled when he heard a weak cough from behind him.
"I'll see you again soon, Zhou Zishu."
The sun was beginning to set beneath the water that surrounded the Jing Hu Mountain Pavilion; its bright orange flame glanced off the lake and stung Kexing's eyes from his lazy perch in a cherry blossom tree. He opened his fan to shield his eyes, the pink sleeve of his robe scattering blush petals onto the grass below him, and turned pointed copper ears, as burnt as the sun that kissed them, towards the swift splash of an oar cutting a path through the lake. There was little activity as the Pavilion transitioned from the work day to the gentle relaxation of dusk, and Kexing's ears were sharp, leaving plenty of space for eavesdropping on the voices that carried across from the water.
A brash bark was the first voice that came to him: someone old, who had spent so much of his life talking that even with little voice left he could make himself heard. His cussing would have made anyone else blush, but Kexing simply tucked his tails in his lap and grinned.
"Do you think you are a navy man? Keep your filthy boot inside my boat, you beggar! If you're not going to pay me, you can at least keep all your arms and legs in one place."
Kexing could just about make out the silhouette of two figures on the boat when he located it, gliding towards the docks at a steady, even pace. The figure at the front moved his knee from the prow, his back curving in a lazy arc, and the other shook the matchstick shadow of an oar at him. Kexing imagined the passenger scowling as droplets of water scattered over him, and the reply that made its way to Kexing's ears matched the picture perfectly; a low grumble coated in thick, gelatinous alto.
"I'm going to pay you, old man. When did I ever give you the impression that I wouldn't?"
"Little bastard thinks he can act like he owns the place. The Manor Lord is kind to us local folk, you watch, when you try to cheat me I'll get him to cut off your hand."
The boat came to a stop by the pier; Kexing stood up on the branch that supported him. He passed his fan over his face and around his waist, and his tails and ears vanished, leaving in their place a handsome but ordinary human dressed in pink and red, balanced on the edge of a cherry blossom tree as if he weighed no more than the fruit it would bear. Grasping the trunk with one hand, he leaned sideways, not bothering to contain his laughter when he observed the passenger's silhouette leap from the boat. His form was graceful: the height of his spring spoke of strength in what were no doubt elegant calves, and his sleeves billowed behind him as he fled in the direction of the orchard, approaching Kexing's hiding place at a rapid speed.
"Animal! Low life bastard! Pay me now or I'll curse your bloodline for centuries!"
Using the cherry blossoms for shelter, Kexing's sharp eyes watched the traveller come closer, propelling himself across the orchard with feather-light leaps. His worn and ragged robes floated behind him like tails, the definition of his cheekbones revealing itself to be a combination of dirt and lack of shaving. His hair was too matted to respond to the fresh wind around him; if he looked close enough he could spot small pieces of seed and grass entangled in the roots of it. Kexing frowned, but then he caught the flash of clean white teeth as the man laughed to himself.
He landed in a clearing just below Kexing's feet. He was breathless, but it seemed to be out of exhilaration more than exertion. Kexing wondered how much farther he could have leapt.
"You're a little late to wish that on me," the traveller said, dusting off his sleeves. The corners of his lips curled upwards in self-satisfaction, and Kexing crouched low on the branch, listening keenly. The things one said when alone were often the most revealing, after all. "Low life bastard! How far you've come, Zhou Zishu."
There was a shine in his eyes that Kexing couldn't pin down as Zhou Zishu examined his own hands, curling and flexing his fingers in the fading sunlight. It might have been wonder; it might have been peace. Kexing's own fingers twitched in response.
Zhou Zishu reacted to the incursion of Kexing's fan with the same vigour he exhibited on the pier, rotating on his toes just enough for the blade on its rim to skim his nose, casting the stray strands of his hair into the breeze. The expression on his face shifted into one of honed vigilance, and though he didn't think to look up in the tree he pinpointed the arc of the fan perfectly to identify where Kexing had been standing only moments ago, his hand moving swiftly to his sword. By then, though, Kexing had made a move, and he landed quietly to Zhou Zishu's side, only alerting him to his presence when he reached out to catch the fan, pink sleeve rustling as he moved.
Zhou Zishu drew his sword as Kexing did his breath. A smile played across his lips for a fraction of a second and then burst into life as Zhou Zishu stepped forward to make an attack. It wasn't difficult to block, but then Zhou Zishu was clearly not aiming to land his blow, instead pressing forward with a frowning insistence, testing Wen Kexing's every reaction to his movements.
It was a long time since Kexing had engaged in a dance like this. Most of his opponents were too weak or too afraid to challenge him, and he could disarm them in seconds, tired of their clumsy charges and trembling limbs. The last time they had seen each other Kexing had barely been certain that Zhou Zishu had legs at all, and he had longed to see him at full strength - at better than, now that he had been given Kexing's blessing. He could never have expected to have his wish granted so soon.
Zhou Zishu's footwork was a dream, and Wen Kexing could barely follow it, abandoning thought and responding with pure instinct to parry and return the conversation of their weapons. From a distance, it would have appeared as if the two were one; as if one misstep would have entangled their ankles and sent them both crashing to the ground, but Kexing had no fear of that. He showed off his canines with a laughing grin, standing to the side and snapping his fan shut when he could see that Zhou Zishu had acknowledged they were evenly matched.
"What do you want?" The voice Zhou Zishu chose to use with Kexing was gruffer than the one he had used with the boatman; he felt an envy that he was deemed less worthy of those more playful, dulcet tones and pouted.
"I'm simply a wandering man with a conscience," he said, nodding back towards the pier. "It wasn't very kind of you to cheat him."
"There's no way you could have seen that..." Zhou Zishu muttered, but he had sheathed his sword, and Kexing tucked his fan back into his robes out of courtesy. He could see Zhou Zishu checking him for other weapons, but there were none that he would be able to find, even with the keen observation skills he so clearly possessed. "What, then, is he a relative of yours?"
Kexing's laugh was like the call of a magpie, and he relished the way it made Zhou Zishu blink when it reached his ears, shaking blossom petals loose around them.
"Not at all. Truthfully, I simply wanted to see those legs in action close up. Long and graceful like a crane, with the speed of a grasshopper and the lightness of falling snow...how could they not arouse the interest of a cultured man like myself?" he leered. "If you would lift your skirts so I could see them properly..."
It was with some joy that Kexing watched Zhou Zishu lean back, an unguarded flash of puzzlement crossing his features for just a second before they shuttered. He wondered if he was more perturbed by another man hitting on him, or that Wen Kexing had chosen to hit on him specifically, with his rags and his broken nose and the patchy stubble over his neck.
"Are you blind?" Zhou Zishu asked, and Kexing laughed.
"Exactly the opposite. I see what lies beneath." He pulled out his fan again, tapping Zhou Zishu lightly on the nose with it before he could draw his sword to guard against him. "May I have your name, handsome stranger?"
"You didn't hear it?" Zhou Zishu's eyes narrowed.
"When would I have?"
"When you - fine." Zhou Zishu relented at Wen Kexing's placid smile. "It's Zhou Xu."
Kexing gave away nothing. "A beautiful name for an elegant man," he said. "For flying catkins?"
"...Yes."
"Wonderful," he spoke as if he had tasted something sweet. "May I call you A-Xu?"
"You can call me whatever you want. It's unlikely we'll meet again," Zhou Zishu replied, striding away from Kexing. His posture was upright and proud, bearing none of the distortion that a beggar's spine may have had to endure. Kexing tilted his head to one side, admiring the pull of the coarse cloth against his shoulder blades and the draping of the belt, looped around a thin waist. Then he gave chase, a spring in his step.
"A-Xu, how could you? We're to be bed mates after all."
Zhou Zishu only looked back for a second, but the shock and derision on his face was palatable enough for Kexing to let another barking laugh loose, folding his arms behind his back as he fell into step behind him.
"The Mirror Lake Sect houses all travellers in the same building. They're not one to show favour to someone because of a few extra pieces of silver."
"I wouldn't know," Zhou Zishu said dryly. "It's my first time here."
"Is that so? Mine too. Don't you think we should stick together in an unfamiliar place?"
"I'm more worried about unfamiliar humanitarians," Zhou Zishu retorted, pulling his sleeve out of reach before Kexing could grasp it.
"Then it's a good thing you have a friend like me to protect you," Wen Kexing answered smoothly. "No humanitarian can get closer to you than I!"
Jing Hu Mountain Pavillion could be seen from all points of the lake and surrounding orchard, but up close it loomed impressive and beautiful. The gate was strong but had been designed to welcome rather than to guard; it stood as wide as it did tall, water dragons engraved into the painted cherry-wood dougong that held up the roof of the gatehouse. Kexing slowed his pace, taking the chance to admire the carefully modest statement of wealth. No one who walked past this gate daily would hold any resentment towards its owners, perhaps even going so far as to tut over the excess of the other Sects along the lakes.
"Cleverly done," he said, low and appreciative. His elegance was enough to make Kexing's heartbeat skitter, and Zhou Zishu took advantage of his momentary distraction to move ahead of him towards the gatehouse.
One of the young manor lords was standing in Zhou Zishu's way; it took no time at all for Kexing to identify him as the youngest, though he must have been at least fourteen, with more money and time to burn than sense. His limbs hung uselessly from his torso, both fat and bony, unused to sword or pen. The finery he was draped in slanted lopsidedly over his form, as if aware that its owner did not suit it and trying to escape. Similarly, his scholar's cap had fallen forward on his forehead, almost covering his eyes. When he noticed that his home had two new visitors, he turned to them with a big-toothed, foolish smile, without a single hint of malice or caution.
Kexing smiled back with narrowed eyes. To be so sheltered was a privilege. Such a young boy had no idea of the lives that his joy was built at the cost of; by the time he was old enough to learn, he would have lost too much of his compassion to care. When the lordling bowed deeply he didn't replicate any of the attempts Zhou Zishu made to pull him up, instead offering his own, perfunctory show at human deference. The uncle behind the gatehouse window clicked his tongue at him, and Kexing tossed his hair in retaliation. He had no patience for this sort of thing.
"Welcome, travellers!" the boy spoke with his face to the floor, finally lifting it when Zhou Zishu tugged roughly at his elbows. "My name is Zhang Chengling. I hope your journey was smooth."
"Please don't group me with him," Zhou Zishu said, pained. "We are travelling separately."
"But we arrived together," Kexing said, stepping up to Zhou Zishu's shoulder. "So why not greet us together? Surely you wouldn't want the boy to exhaust his tongue, A-Xu?"
"It's...no trouble..." Zhang Chengling began. Kexing noted with amusement the way his eyes flickered between the two of them and his brow furrowed in confusion. Zhou Zishu responded with a sigh, brushing off Kexing's encroaching hand as if it were dust on his grimed up robes.
"Forget it." Zhou Zishu spoke as if he had been travelling for days, world-weary and worn. "Just show us where we stay. And if there's wine, all the better...I'll need it if he's planning on sticking around."
"Oh! Yes, xiansheng, absolutely...This way, please, both of you," Zhang Chengling bounced through the gate, turning to ensure that they followed close. Zhou Zishu's eye roll in Kexing's direction only served to delight him, and he grasped at Zhou Zishu's arm, clinging on tightly when he tried to shake it off. Unable to appreciate the play between adults, the lordling kept on chattering. "I don't drink - well, I've had a few sips every now and again, but I don't like the flavour - but my father and brothers appreciate the wine of this region very much. I'm sure you'll find it to your tastes. I can send for an additional few jars to be brought to the traveller's quarters, if you'd like?"
"There's no need to roll out the welcome wagon for us, Zhang-shaoye," Kexing tittered. "We're the same as everyone else, no matter how ethereally beautiful A-Xu here might seem."
Zhang Chengling laughed as Zhou Zishu hissed at Kexing, his nose scrunching up so high that Kexing found himself wanting to pull at it until it peeled off.
"Perhaps you should ask the kid if you can see a doctor about your eyes while you're here."
"Oh, there's nothing wrong with my eyes," Kexing responded. He blinked and narrowed them to emphasise his point. "They're better than most, in fact, which is why I can tell that you're one to sink fish beneath that disguise."
Zhou Zishu was a master of pretense. If it wasn't for the blood that sung in both of their veins, Kexing would have scarcely been able to ascertain the tension that drew across his shoulders, or the sudden increase of his heart-rate. Outwardly, he looked bored, as if Kexing had just asked him to make observations on the weather. Zhang Chengling stumbled over his feet, pausing again to look at them both.
"Does it look like I'm wearing a disguise to you?" Zhou Zishu asked, his tone level. Kexing held on to the note of it and pitched his answer in harmony.
"Not at all," he smiled. "And that's what's so interesting about the fact that you're wearing one."
"Ah..." Zhang Chengling adjusted his hat. "I don't know if I - are you wearing a disguise, Zhou-xiansheng?"
"I'm not," Zhou Zishu replied.
"Would he tell you if he was?" Kexing pointed out, barely resisting the urge to stick out his tongue. Zhou Zishu muttered something, too vulgar and deliberately obscured for Kexing to allow his vulpine ears to pick up.
"That's true..." Zhang Chengling said thoughtfully. "But I believe that Zhou-xiansheng is a good person. Even if you have a disguise, I respect that you can wear it, and you'll respect that you're a guest here, right?"
Kexing scoffed. Zhang Chengling's eyes were as wide as they were empty; empty of thought and awareness, Zhang Yusen had all but skinned his son as a rabbit for the slaughter. He would hop, neat and willing, into any trap, and bare his throat over the grass so that his blood didn't spill on your robes.
"I respect that," Zhou Zishu responded. The amused light dancing in his eyes betrayed his youth, even with the grey shadows that surrounded it. Something about the sight made Kexing shiver; the last time they had met, Zhou Zishu's gaze had been despondent as his own. What had changed? Was it something that Kexing could take from him, if he wanted? Was it something that Kexing could share? "Guests get food and drink, right? Those are both things I can respect, the latter more than the former."
Zhang Chengling nodded again, and Kexing began to fear for the safety of his neck, too scrawny to withstand such vigorous oscillation. He bowed twice, stopping at the entrance to a small off-centre courtyard.
"This is where the travellers stay. If you can make yourselves comfortable, I'll send someone right away with the wine."
"Such a good boy; you do your father proud," Kexing said without sincerity, but Zhang Chengling beamed all the same.
"Thank you, xiansheng, you're too kind," he said, scurrying off towards the main manor. Immediately, Kexing felt himself relax; too much time around the lordlings of the jianghu was bad for his constitution.
"Shall we see our quarters, A-Xu?" Kexing asked. Zhou Zishu rolled up his sleeves, exposing taut, muscular forearms, and strode on ahead.
The courtyard was a simple affair; even more so than the rest of the pavillion houses, which had traces of ornate carvings and delicate features. Here practicality reigned, with a central hearth that some travel-weary merchants had already gathered around, roasting mantou on hot pokers. There was an elevated platform, with some sleeping mats placed out in the open for the summer nights, and others in the shelter of a modest wooden building which had a small pit of heated stones. Some of the mats had already been claimed, and a girl in purple sat with her legs spread across the two mats closest to the heater, snarling at anyone who came close. Her robes were elegant enough that one might mistake her for a servant of the Zhang family, or perhaps even a visiting noble, since the purple hue was so out of place here, but Kexing knew better, and he raised a hand in greeting. Gu Xiang leapt to her feet, running past Zhou Zishu with heavy-footed, eager steps, and fussed around Kexing like a butterfly who hadn't yet learned to land on a flower.
"Zhuren!" she whined, and Kexing smiled as she patted over his elbows and biceps. One would think she was his mother, not his ward. "Where have you been? You've taken so long that the tea I brewed for you is almost cold, and those vultures were trying to steal your bed. I even set up your blankets for you."
Zhou Zishu had walked away from them, sitting on the steps of the platform and adopting an air of indifference, but Kexing didn't miss the sideways glance he cast Gu Xiang, and was grateful for the opportunity to play on his curiosity. He reached out and pinched Gu Xiang's soft cheek until she whined. When he released it, blood rushed to the skin, youthful and oh-so-human. She rubbed it hard with a pout and Kexing laughed.
"Now, now, little brat, I'm not spoiled, remember. If one of these men would appreciate the comfort, I would happily let them," he said with a sweeping gesture. The merchants, who - though dressed in all manner of regional robes and belts - had grouped together as one unit, cast eyes over him that ranked each of his layers by value. He drew his outer robe tighter around himself with a shudder, and Gu Xiang punched him neatly in the arm.
"How dare you, after I worked so hard to keep it for you! No, you'll take the good spot and you'll enjoy it. Come, sit down and have some tea."
"Won't you join us, A-Xu?" Kexing asked, casting a hopeful glance in his direction. Zhou Zishu acted as if he had not been watching, sitting himself firmly in the midst of the money grubbing vultures they were to share their quarters with. None of them gave him a second glance - he wasn't one of them, and they had determined in less time than it would take to light an incense stick that he carried nothing of value. How foolish of them, to look with their marble eyes instead of anything else. If Kexing was a peacock, drawing eyes wherever he went, then Zhou Zishu was a stick insect; or perhaps a mantis would have been a better comparison. If he sat by the fire for long enough, Wen Kexing had no doubt that one cast or another would absorb him, not noticing that he had accompanied them on their travels until long after they had reached the next destination. Perhaps that was his aim.
Kexing had always been on the outside of things; it was where he was supposed to be. He had never yearned for the humanity that had been denied him, spurning his father's kind as wicked at their worst and useless at their best. The elites were petty and cunning, willing to sell their sons for a glimpse of power, and the commonfolk kept their necks down so far in the dirt their heads threatened to sprout from the other side of the earth. Merchants felt themself above and beneath all of that, and could consider no one but themselves. They were dull to barter with and even duller to break fast with, but Zhou Zishu listened to their stories and laughed, drinking wine from a shared jar with a smile on his lips that said the banality of it all pleased him.
Watching from the steps with his silk robes while Gu Xiang poured him tea, Kexing felt as if the stones that paved the courtyard to the fire spread endlessly. The little sprouts of grass peeking through the joints ached with him, whispering of the forests that he had once called home. Zhou Zishu laughed, and in its place Kexing heard the laughter of a young boy, and felt the phantom pain of a sharp tug on a single tail.
Kexing had not been to that home in a long time. Not since...
"Lao Wen," Zhou Zishu spoke at the same time as Gu Xiang hissed 'Zhuren...!', snapping her fingers in front of his face with wide eyes that mimicked concern. Kexing grasped her fingers to pull at them hard, sticking out his tongue, and looked over to where Zhou Zishu was propped up on his elbows, being offered wine by a servant boy. It seemed as if one Zhang was still shamefully true to his word, at least.
Kexing drained his cup, the scald of the tea on his throat pleasantly biting, and stood to join him. Despite the seeming vastness of the courtyard, it only took a few strides to reach Zhou Zishu's side.
"Are you inviting me to drink, A-Xu?"
"It's not an invitation, but the young master sent this for the two of us," he responded with a careful air, holding out the jar towards Kexing. He took it with a smile, lifting his robes to sit cross-legged beside Zhou Zishu. "It would be remiss of me to take it all for myself, and I'd hate to get thrown out so soon."
"Of course, of course," Kexing nodded sagely. He smiled even as he lifted the jar to his lips, warmed by the servant and mellow in flavour. Gu Xiang stood at his side, gawking so openly that he wondered if an insect might make a home inside her mouth.
"Who's this ugly fellow?" She asked; then held up her hands and stepped backwards when she caught sight of Kexing's curled upper lip and exposed fang. "I mean - this gentleman? Why are you abandoning me for him?"
"A beautiful girl like you is always welcome to join us," Zhou Zishu responded, leaning back on his palms and smiling up at her without shame. Gu Xiang shuddered, and Kexing felt the wine sour in his stomach. "If I'd known you kept such attractive company I might not have tried so hard to shake you off."
"It's impossible to shake off my zhuren," Gu Xiang said with pride, her arms folded across her chest. "He's like a leech."
"I've noticed," Zhou Zishu commented drily, and then lapsed into a comfortable silence. He took the jar of wine when Kexing offered it, the rest of them cradled like eggs in a nest of robes between his folded legs. Conversation flowed over them both with the spring breeze, the scent of cherry and early apple blossom carrying beneath the smoke of the fire. The merchants' voices grew louder as they tried to escalate one another's stories, injecting dull tales of long journies with supersition and folk rumours of terror.
"...and I barely escaped from the hulijing in the forest outside Heifei, you know. A whole pack of them; they wanted my goods even though there's no essence left in my old bones!"
Kexing turned his head towards the fire as the old man slapped his thigh; Zhou Zishu mirrored his gesture. Beside him, a man of the same age with a silvering moustache shoved him hard.
"Don't be absurd! Hulijing don't travel in packs, and they're not interested in your trash. If you really were attacked, it's because you didn't respect them. Did you curse them or forget to make an offering at their shrine?"
A couple of the men hummed in agreement while others tittered.
"What respect should we give to those demons? The ghost realm is led by a hulijing now, you know, and that place is nothing but trouble. Terrorising markets and villages, day and night, you can't get any peace. It used to be that the ghost realm only bothered with our world during festivals, and you could prepare yourself. But these hulijing fancy themselves human, think that they own both realms, and the Ghost King is giving the rest of them ideas."
"No one knows whether the Ghost King is really a hulijing," an uncle spoke quickly, throwing a hand over his frightened son's eyes. "No one's seen him since the last one died. There's plenty of villages that have a peaceful relationship with the spirits in the mountains and forests, hulijing included."
"Mm, and those villages aren't hit by the ghost realm either, I'll bet. It's demon worship! Who knows what they're giving to appease the beasts. Maybe all of their virgin daughters have been sullied!"
"Maybe their virgin sons, too," a younger man piped up, propping his elbow up on his knee. "I heard the old Ghost King was drained by the current one, if you know what I mean. That's how he got his ninth tail."
"...If he has nine tails, wouldn't that make him a god?"
"Don't talk nonsense! A demon can't be a god."
Their gossiping came to a halt when Zhou Zishu barked out a laugh, brash and loud enough to cut through the chatter. For the first time since he had arrived all eyes turned to him, and the fire flickered dangerously in the coal of his eyes.
"If you fear him so much, you probably shouldn't be making yourselves a target by spreading such insidious rumours," he said darkly. Silence reigned for a long beat until he spoke again.
"Do any of you know where to find this Ghost King, if you've been so terrorised by him? Just one of his lackeys would do."
"Of course not!" the original speaker sputtered. "Who dares to find the entrance to Ghost Valley?"
"I do," Zhou Zishu replied, the tincture of his voice lazy enough to ring sultry in Kexing's ears. Kexing was pinned by it, looking at Zhou Zishu with wide eyes; the words struck him, a tuning fork against cold glass."Though it's proving rather difficult, what with half of the rumours being spread by idiots like you."
At this, the group of merchants muttered, and the old man who had cursed out the hulijing folded his arms defensively. Gu Xiang leaned her body into Kexing's side, and he struggled to ignore her sharp elbow jabbing his ribs as he continued to watch the flat, impassive line of Zhou Zishu's expression.
"You don't know more than I do," he said. "What do you want with the Ghost King, anyway, are you going to offer yourself to him? It doesn't look like you have any essence left in you either, demon worshipper."
"That's between me and him," Zhou Zishu said. He stood up abruptly, light on his feet and more agile than the lines etched into his face would have portrayed him capable of. "If that's all you've got, I'm going to sleep. Thank you for the stories, yeye."
He walked back towards the roofed shelter, and Kexing hurried to follow, gathering the last two jars of wine in his arms. As he fell into step beside Zhou Zishu, he heard Gu Xiang speak up, mimicking the sound of spitting at all of the men gathered around the fire.
"You're all fools, you know. A fox will do you favours if you treat it kindly, but if one met any of you... peh, you're not even fit to be dog food."
Kexing shook his head, grasping at Zhou Zishu's sleeve and tugging him closer to the indoor hearth. He nudged Gu Xiang's blankets aside with his toe, patting the sleeping mat beside his own with vigour.
"A-Xu, A-Xu, sleep here where it's warm," he said, a wisp of disappointment curling in his gut when Zhou Zishu walked right past him to a cold corner, taking a mat that was far away from anyone else.
"Your maid is young; I'd hate to see her suffer," he retorted, and Kexing sighed. He had not felt his pulse quicken so easily in more than a decade, and his blood flowed restlessly through his veins, as energetic as a cub. With difficulty he lay down at the same time as Zhou Zishu, clasping his hands over his chest and staring at the ceiling. There were several mats between himself and Zhou Zishu's body, curled tightly on his side like a tortoise climbing into its shell, but Kexing could still hear his breathing, unrushed and strong.
"Are you really looking for the king of the ghost realm?"
"If I weren't, would I dare say it?"
It seemed unreal, that Zhou Zishu could be searching for him, when he himself had only just managed to find Zhou Zishu again after their last meeting. Perhaps Kexing's blood was drawing them to one another; perhaps it was something stronger, like the fate Kexing had turned his back on.
"What a grand adventure. And here I thought you just wanted to travel and drink good wine."
"Well, that too."
"What will you do when you find him?"
Zhou Zishu's answering huff was easy to distinguish across the room. It spoke of weariness, disdain and amusement all in one. If he were a fox, Kexing could imagine him curling his lip, ears flicked backwards to show his irritation.
"You're as bad as those old gossips. I wouldn't tell them and I won't tell you either. Good night, Lao Wen."
It was not a custom for anyone to wish Kexing a good night. He hadn't practiced it with Gu Xiang, as they would only sleep when it was safe, and later, he would not have let anyone close enough. He caught Zhou Zishu's words in his palm and swallowed them to warm his stomach with.
"Good night, A-Xu."
Kexing waited until Zhou Zishu's breathing had turned rhythmic with sleep before sitting up with the last of the wine jars. Gu Xiang came to join him, laying down at his side with only a few mutters, and by the time Kexing had drunk himself into unconsciousness the room was filled with the snores of strangers, kept warm and safe for the night by the hospitality of a traitor.
The smoke reached Kexing's nose long before anyone else in the traveller's quarters, and his form almost slipped as he jerked into alertness, his haunches tense and ready for danger. It wasn't a good smoke; there was no laughter or spit of a pot to accompany it, and though Kexing could smell meat, it wasn't prey that was charring in the flames. His face twisted - though he had no particular empathy for humans, burning flesh had never been a pleasant scent to inhale - and as he turned his face away from its direction he met the gaze of the only other to have been woken by the smoke.
Zhou Zishu's dark eyes shone in the near complete darkness of the room. Kexing nodded, and the pair sprang into action.
"Fire!" Zhou Zishu yelled, his firm voice carrying through the room in a way that spoke of authority; of a familiarity with rousing people with a single word. "Get up, take only what you can carry, get to the lake!"
Amidst the grumbles and slow scramble of the merchants, Gu Xiang blinked sleepily awake. She gazed hazily at Kexing, her eyelids heavy and cheeks round. A distant sound of metal clashing against metal rang out in the night, and Gu Xiang immediately leapt to her feet, her hand clutching the dagger hidden in her belt.
Affection and possessive pride surged in Kexing all at once; he drew her close, ushering her away from the mob of travellers who were now eager to escape the hospitality they had crawled towards only hours earlier. The gap in the wooden panels of the wall was just large enough for them both to slip through, and Kexing urged Gu Xiang forwards, pointing up to the roof before casting one last glance back into the room. Zhou Zishu was placing a young boy into his father's hands, hurrying them forwards with a crisp efficiency, and he looked up when he heard the call of the Zhang guards with laser focus.
"The ghost realm is attacking! Defend our leader!"
By the time Zhou Zishu had turned to find Kexing, he had taken advantage of the distraction and slipped away, jumping up and onto the tiled roof beside Gu Xiang with ease. Resting a hand on her shoulder, Kexing could feel that her posture was tense and stiff. She peered out over the rooftops, through the smoke to the source of the blaze, and her lip stuck out in an irritated frown.
"How dare they say the ghost realm is attacking! Zhuren, it's not us, is it? Why would we attack a place while we're sleeping?"
Kexing smiled at her; truthfully he knew as little as she did, and he was unwilling to let her see the uneasiness that stirred in his chest. The smoke smelled acrid and unnatural, an eerie green glow emitting just beneath the aura of the fire; it couldn't have been generated by someone from this realm.
"That would be foolish of us, wouldn't it, A-Xiang?" he answered, and she huffed in response. "After all, we'd rouse suspicion as visitors."
"Right? We're not that stupid," Gu Xiang stomped her foot against the roof, startling and clinging to Kexing's arm when a tile came loose. "Let's get out of here before the fire spreads."
"You aren't curious as to who would use our name?" he asked. Gu Xiang hesitated, watching her warily. She had the same wide-eyed look in her eyes that she used to get when he would test her on which plants were edible, and whether she ought to run or fight from someone bigger than her.
"...Not if it means getting burned up or stabbbed by some clumsy sect discple," she muttered, grinning when she made Kexing laugh. She tugged on his hand. "There's nothing worth staying for here, zhuren, let's go."
Kexing nodded, turning on the balls of his feet and opening his fan to shield his nose from the scent. He took two steps along the rooftop, intending to move toward the lake, when he caught sight of a dark blur moving in the opposite direction of an escape. His narrowed eyes locked onto the torn sleeve of navy robes, recognising them in an instant, and he held out his hand to stop Gu Xiang before she could leap.
"Wait for me on the other side of the lake," he told her. Her responding whine was no different to the way she would complain when he denied her dessert.
"What? Why aren't you coming too? If you're staying, then I definitely have to."
"Nonsense. You'll wait for me, and I'll find you soon," he flashed her a smile. "Do you worry for me?"
Gu Xiang scoffed. "Only for whatever's caught your eye. Fine, but if you take too long I'll leave without you."
"Brat," he scolded, not bothering to raise his voice as she jumped from the rooftop, scampering forward to find a safe place to cross the lake. She didn't have his hearing, but familiarity told her what he had called her all the same, and she turned once, jogging in place for half a second to stick her tongue out at his sillouhette. Then she was gone, and Kexing was free to focus his attention on why Zhou Zishu had bothered to return.
"Nothing worth staying for..." he muttered. "It should have been."
It wasn't difficult for Kexing to track Zhou Zishu even with the smoke, blood and burning flesh that sought to confound his nose. Their scents were nearly identical now after all, and the distinguishing features of pine and human sweat only became apparent when he drew closer. He could smell fear, but it wasn't Zhou Zishu's; no, it came from the Lordling, whose barely developed scent was drowned out by the salt of his tears.
"Die! Die!"
Kexing came upon the scene in moments. He saw Zhou Zishu's robes, now blackened with soot and disintegrating at the sleeves, hand wrapped tightly around Zhang Chengling's shoulder and pulling hard enough to dislocate it. In turn, Zhang Chengling twisted away from him, clinging onto what could only be the remains of his father. Kexing couldn't see Chengling's face, but he observed that the Zhang manor lord had been cut down before he was burned, his nose torn from his face and ribcage pulled apart. He knew all too well, then, what Zhang Chengling must look like right now - a broken shell of a boy. He wondered idly what kind of monster would emerge if the child survived.
"We have to go," Zhou Zishu barked, tugging him again. He might as well have been pulling at a sack of rice.
"Not without my die! My brothers..." Zhang Chengling sobbed, surging forward.
"Would they want you to die for their corpses? Be less filial, brat, get moving!"
Kexing stepped forward, intending to knock the boy out for Zhou Zishu's convenience - if they lingered too long the ash would be difficult to remove from his robes - but he stopped short at the approach of two masked figures. They cackled, brandishing a sabre and cleaver between them, and the paint on their masks glowed with demonic markings. Zhou Zishu shoved their target behind him, and Kexing hung back, clutching his fan. He would intervene if it looked like Zhou Zishu was going to get himself killed for the boy, but for now he had a rare opportunity to witness the orchestrators of his own insurrection.
"Step aside, old man! The kid is ours. We've orders not to leave anyone from the manor alive!"
Kexing sniffed. Whose orders were these? The Zhang manor was last on his list.
Zhang Chengling was still collapsed on the floor, ash stuck to his face by snot and tears, and he only looked up when Zhou Zishu drew a sword from his robed. It caught the light of the flames as it bent, whip-like around Zhou Zishu's form, and the two assailants hesitated for a moment before pressing on.
"Nice sword," the one wielding the cleaver said; Kexing had to agree. It moved as a willow branch but blocked the force of the cleaver's blow with ease, as strong and effortless as Zhou Zishu's footwork. "I think I'll take it after your head."
"You're welcome to try," Zhou Zishu said. Even with his back to Kexing, he could imagine the fierce snarl on Zhou Zishu's face as if he had seen it before. Kexing's blood raced in both of their veins, pumping in a call and response to the unfolding fight, and he found himself restless in spite of his lack of investment in the outcome. It was inevitable that Zhou Zishu would survive, after all - Kexing would make sure of that. The only variable was the child, and he would most likely be more thankful for a quick and early death than the orphanhood that awaited him.
The fight was decided in less than five moves. Both assailants charged Zhou Zishu head on, and even Kexing's keen eyes struggled to follow his responding footwork, side-stepping and retaliating with clean cuts. If it wasn't for the smoke in his eyes and his concern for the boy, Kexing thought that he might have killed them both in one strike. As it was, he allowed the sabre wielder to retreat, focusing his attention on the demon with the cleaver and slicing his throat neatly. Kexing watched as Zhou Zishu paused to ensure he hit the ground, clearly uncertain of what supernatural powers the enemies he was facing might posess.
That was his mistake, and it was a costly one. The demon with the sabre clearly had more of a semblance of loyalty to whomever had given the orders, and Kexing noted with some interest that he quickly wrote Zhou Zishu off as an opponent that was too strong for him to face. Instead of getting caught up in his bloodlust, he used the combination of the smoke and his companion's distraction to target Zhang Chengling, who curled around the corpse of his father like a turtle stripped of his shell. The demon moved with deadly efficiency, sabre slicing through smoke and air; even with Zhou Zishu's finely cultivated footwork, there was no way that a human could move quickly enough to block it. Zhang Chengling seemed to have accepted his fate, eyes closed and ready to die in the flesh of his father.
It was fortunate, then, that Zhou Zishu was no longer fully human. Across the space between them, Kexing could feel his own blood roar into action as it coursed through both of their veins. It took a concentrated effort to contain his own human disguise when grey fox ears sprouted from the top of Zhou Zishu's head, a bushy grey and brown tail whirling around when Zhou Zishu spun. Even as his heart thudded faster, Kexing was surprised that Zhou Zishu only had one tail. He had thought that his blood was stronger than that, even in small doses.
The strength that Kexing's blood lent Zhou Zishu was enough to propel him forward faster than anyone else could track, growling low and feral as he blocked the sabre with his sword, sending vibrations back through the hilt so strong that the demon dropped his weapon. He leapt back in surprise, but Zhou Zishu was on him in an instant, ears back and canine teeth bared. His elastic sword struck the demon at an angle, and before he could cry out he was split at the seam. Zhou Zishu's shoulders were tense, his taut forearms exposed by the shredded sleeves of his robes, and Kexing felt himself take a step forward, pulled by something stronger than his own blood.
A cry caught Zhou Zishu's attention, and Kexing dragged his gaze away to follow its source, sighing when he saw that Zhang Chengling had by some miracle survived. He was staring at Zhou Zishu, wide-eyed and fearful, and it was only then that Zhou Zishu seemed to become aware that his hulijing form had overtaken him. He touched his fox ears with an expression that almost looked sheepish, ill fitted to his state of recent victory.
"This - I'm not with them, but I can't control that. I don't know how to make it go away. You're gonna have to trust me for now, kid, so I can get you out of here."
Zhang Chengling was silent, as was the rest of the manor. Some time during the fight, the rest of the screams had died down, their owners with it, leaving only the flicker and crackle of flames, and the snap of breaking wood. He opened his fist, exposing red-ringed, trembling fingers that had been hanging onto a pocket mirror. Kexing could see the melted flesh of Zhang Yusen still clinging to it, but otherwise the mirror remained miraculously undamaged, the bronze sculpted like flower petals and the dragon circling its centre gleaming menacingly.
"Why am I alive?" he rasped. It was difficult to parse whether his throat was ruined from the smoke or from his tears. Kexing paused again in his steps, waiting for Zhou Zishu's response. He didn't know what to make of the way his tail tucked between his legs and his shoulders sagged, as if the question had sapped from him all of the adrenaline that the fight had given him.
"Fuck, kid... I've been asking myself that for too long to be able to give you a good answer. You are, so deal with it. You can kill yourself when you're out of my sight."
He hauled Zhang Chengling up by the shoulders, wincing when the body of Zhang Yusen dropped from his trembling hands. It landed with a squelch that would have sickened lesser ears. When he pushed Zhang Chengling forward, Zhou Zishu finally caught sight of Kexing, and their eyes met across the broken path.
"You just got here..?" he asked warily, and Kexing smiled.
"I was worried about you."
Trusting, foolish Zhang Chengling stumbled forward, his legs wobbling like a newborn fawn, and Kexing caught him when he fell into his arms, imitating a smile that he had marked as compassionate. It seemed to work, because Zhang Chengling's lip trembled and he held onto Kexing's elbows a little tighter. Seeing Zhou Zishu relax at the gesture, Kexing didn't pull away, instead drawing the boy closer to him.
His thoughts felt as clouded as the air around him. Something in his chest rumbled, his mouth opening before he was aware that he wanted to speak.
"You'll have your venegeance, little one. You'll have it, or you'll fade away before long. There's nothing to worry about."
Zhang Chengling only whimpered, and Kexing knew that he hadn't been heard. It didn't matter anyway; he wasn't sure why he had said it, only that it felt true. When Zhou Zishu caught up with them he turned Zhang Chengling around and pushed at the small of his back, propelling him into his first steps forward as an orphan.
"Let's go to the lake," Zhou Zishu and Kexing spoke in unison, and Kexing beamed while Zhou Zihsu frowned.
They walked mostly in silence; the manor was still burning, and though Zhang Chengling made a noble attempt he was unable to stop snivelling. The ash he rubbed into his eyes when he wiped them only served to exacerbate his tears and make him wince in pain. All of the boats were gone - some had been destroyed by the demons and others had been taken by the merchants, none of whom had spared a thought for the man that had roused and saved them. Kexing kicked at the splintered wood, of half a mind to hunt them down. It wouldn't take long, as the scent of frankincense and sandalwood had clung to them with a sickly intensity.
"Where are you going to go?" Zhou Zishu was asking Zhang Chengling. Kexing startled when he felt his sleeve grasped at, though the lordling kept looking at Zhou Zishu, his eyes wide. "Do you have a relative you can go to?"
"I have - an uncle -" Chengling started, hiccuping with sobs. Kexing sneered and Zhang Chengling trembled, his lower lip an impressive, watery ridge. "But I've only met him once. Die stopped speaking to him long ago, and no one came to aid us now. Why would I go to him? Can't I go with you, at least to the next town?"
"You think I'm going to a town like this?" Zhou Zishu said, gesturing at his fox ears.
"I don't see why not. They're very handsome," Kexing spoke up, delighting in Zhou Zishu's answering glare. "Ah, I understand. You don't want all of the eligible lords and ladies to fight over you."
"Can't you hide them?" Zhang Chengling asked. He was regaining his voice, bolder the more distant he got from the manor. Perhaps he'd be able to dissociate enough to survive after all. "You didn't have them when you arrived."
"I don't know how," Zhou Zishu's teeth were gritted through the confession. "Besides, I have something to do. I don't have time to waste on a brat like you."
"Then don't waste it. Take me with you. I promise I won't be a brat. I'll - I'll be useful. I have to be useful, or -"
Zhang Chengling cast a shakey glance towards the dying embers of his former home. Kexing couldn't tell if he was performing or not, but it was clear that he was pulling on Zhou Zishu's heartstrings. He wavered both physically and emotionally, pacing on the balls of slender feet.
"Maybe - you can travel with me until we find a safe space for you to stay. Not a town, but just outside, if these don't go away then I can't -"
Kexing felt that it was his turn to step in. He waved his fan in an elegant manner, drying off the sweat from the fire on Zhou Zishu's skin.
"I think I can help with that," he said, jabbing his fan into two of Zhou Zishu's acupoints before he had the chance to protest. If it wasn't for the exhaustion of the fire, Kexing didn't think that he would be able to take the element of surprise like that, and he relished the moment of power. Zhou Zishu yelped, but his ire was interrupted by Zhang Chengling's sharp gasp. To prove his point, Kexing ran his fingers through Zhou Zishu's scalp, and though Zhou Zishu caught his wrist immediately in an iron grip, he didn't miss that there were no more ears for Kexing to pull at.
A shame, really, as Kexing would have liked to have felt them.
Zhou Zishu had been watching Kexing with suspicion ever since they had reunited; he had no memory of Kexing, but Kexing knew full well that he cut an intimidating figure, even at his most disguised. Short of using his spiritual powers to disappear, Kexing would not have been able to throw Zhou Zishu off, and he had wanted Zhou Zishu to notice him. Until now he had enjoyed the wary manner in which Zhou Zishu's gaze had reluctantly returned to him around the fire; his eyes were piercing in a way that most humans couldn't acheive.
This was the first time that Zhou Zishu had looked at him with interest, though, and all at once Kexing felt as if he had underestimated him. There were parts of Kexing's soul locked away even from himself, but at the steady, intense stare of Zhou Zishu, they flared up, white-hot and roaring in a tongue Kexing could not begin to parse. He suppressed a shudder.
"How did you know how to do that?" Zhou Zishu asked, suspicion replaced by intrigue. Kexing hid his face behind his fan.
"I travel; I know a lot of things," he offered. "Come on, A-Xu. Let's take the boy on a family trip."
"We're a family now?" Zhou Zishu asked, eyebrows raised.
"It's not like he has any better options."
Zhou Zishu sucked in his teeth, and Kexing held his head high as Zhang Chengling winced. He didn't care for the boy's comfort - no one else was going to ever again, so why should he?
"I told you, you won't like where I'm going."
"To find the king of the ghost realm, right? Doesn't that concern him more than anyone?"
At the name, Zhang Chengling jolted, and he released his hold on Kexing to prostrate himself on the floor in front of Zhou Zishu.
"Please, you have to take me with you both! I'll do anything."
"You won't leave me alone," Zhou Zishu commented, and Kexing laughed.
"I'll do anything else. I have to find out why -"
"You might not get the chance, even if I find him. Not to mention there's no us," he gestured between himself and Kexing. "He's not coming with me either."
"Are you sure about that, A-Xu? You've been having difficulty on your own, haven't you?"
"I don't see what acquiring an entourage of mosquitos would do for me," Zhou Zishu replied dryly. Kexing laughed again.
"Well, if one of these 'mosquitos' you speak so cruelly of happens to know where the entrance to the ghost realm is...
Zhang Chengling and Zhou Zishu's expressions were twin portraits of consternation. Kexing raised his eyebrows, waiting as Zhou Zishu's shoulders fell, his entire posture slouching as he resigned himself to his fate.
"We have to get across the lake before we can sleep," he said in lieu of confirmation, and Kexing ruffled Zhang Chengling's hair.
"We're in," he whispered, and a little colour returned to Zhang Chengling's cheeks. "A-Xiang should be here with a boat any minute. In the meantime, why don't you share with the class what you want with the ghost king? Aren't you a hulijing too?"
Zhou Zishu flinched, and Kexing mimicked the gesture. He hadn't expected his gift to be such a sore point - hadn't Zhou Zishu been seeking his place with Kexing as Kexing had been seeking him? But there was nothing in the tense lines of Zhou Zishu's muscles, in the way his hands clenched behind his back as he faced the lake, that spoke of the magnetic pull that Kexing himself had designed for them.
"I don't want to be," Zhou Zishu responded. "That's why I have to find him. First, I'll get the bastard to cure me. Then I'm going to kill him."