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Chapter Text

Xiao Xingchen felt sick, bone-deep shame and terror before he was even fully awake. His empty stomach roiled, and he rolled from his side onto his belly, and pressed his mouth against the sun-warmed turf.

His throat spasmed but only harsh, cawing breaths came out. He was empty, an ache that might be hunger twining with convulsive misery.

Memory tried to intrude, and he shook his head against it and forced himself up to his elbows and knees. He opened his eyes to a blinding green, the leaves and fronds lit by a bright glare of sunlight.

He closed his eyes, and then he opened them again, and closed them again and sat back on his heels so he could feel for them with his fingers. His eyes shifted in their sockets at his hasty press, and bright colours bloomed; he gentled his touch and felt them flicker under the lids, like trapped moths.

He opened his eyes. He looked at his hands, which were unbloodied, the nails clean-scrubbed and neatly trimmed. There should be blood, and his breath quickened as memory pressed in on him, clenching its fist around his lungs.

Panic wouldn't help. He forced himself to look up, around, just enough to tell himself he was alone, in the countryside, surrounded by nothing more than rocks and plants. Stillness, silence, but for thin, unmusical bird-calls.

He focused inward, on his breathing, on the flow of his qi. His shifu would say -

- no, no, that made the guilt twist harder at his liver, not his shifu -

He breathed, as he had been taught, thinking only of the flow of his breath and energy, bringing life to him. Slow, steady. The intensity of feeling receded, though he still felt sick with it, a tremor in his limbs and a tension in his gut. That was for later; there was only this moment. No past, and no future, just the eternal moment in which he existed.

In that same moment, he opened his eyes - yes, it was curious that he had eyes. In this moment, he had eyes. His hands were clean. His robes were white, trimmed with black, and that made his throat tighten, so he closed his eyes again, and retreated to calm. In this moment, there was black trim on his robes and - he moved a hand to touch his sleeve - yes, they were fine and soft.

Curiosity rose in him, and he reached for his hair, which was pulled up onto his head, and held by an intricate jade hairpiece his shifu had gifted him. He had given it back to her, when -

He pressed his hands to his mouth. Was there nothing in his life that hadn't turned sour and foul? Nothing he could look at and not feel shame for how badly he had failed? He slid one hand lower, over his jaw, felt his fast-beating pulse tucked under it. A few inches lower, he would find -

He dropped his hands back to his lap, and opened his eyes again. He looked at the ground, at the tiny, delicate leaves curling over the earth. A beetle trundled among them, a shiny blue thing unfamiliar to him, and he let his gaze follow it a while.

The plants were unfamiliar, too. When he lifted his eyes a little higher, he didn't recognise any of the bushes. Not the low. It took several minutes of looking around to be sure, but the trees beneath him on the slope, the bushes, the beetles, the tiny plants under his knees - he knew none of it.

He stood, his legs wobbly and uncertain, and looked about. There was no path, no footprints of crushed leaves, no indication how he might have come here. The air was fresh, clear any of the rough smells of civilisation, no smoke or sewage, and there were only those strange bird-calls in the air.

When he came down from the mountain, from the high, cold place with its sparse life and thin air, he had been amazed by the richness of life he'd found, from the shapes of the leaves to the songs of birds. The first time he'd seen a fox, it had grinned at him, and he'd followed the white tip of its tail for miles, wondering if it would prove to be a fox-spirit. How could a beast smile with such knowing?

How could men be so corrupt, surrounded as they were with so many enchanting things?

Pain bubbled in his chest, but it was more manageable, this time, and he kept breathing in, and out. He had failed in his effort to heal the corruption of the world, as his shifu had warned him. It had not taken him very long to realise how futile a dream that was, but by then he had Zichen, and he had been content to make smaller plans; a sect, that would set a good example, that would be a source of healing for some, at least. An antidote to corruption.

His eyes. Was Song Zichen blind again, wherever he was? No, no, surely not. He touched his hairpiece again; that was safe with his shifu, not even the wrath and hate of - there was nothing that could touch his shifu. What was happening now was much stranger.

His throat was dry, and his eyes ached, and his face was sticky with tears. There would be water here, somewhere nearby, with all this lush greenery. The heat was the soaked-in heat of afternoon, the sunlight ageing into mellow gold, and he glanced at the sky for direction and sent himself east, across the slope, ears pricked for the sound of water.

Within the hour, he had found a trickling stream, and scooped it up to wash his face, and take a few sips. His stomach lurched at the chill of the stream, coming down from the high places, and he looked up the mountain with longing. But this was not the mountain he had once come down, his heart full of hope.

Song Zichen was dead, he told himself, and it stung like icewater in his veins. He couldn't doubt it; he'd felt that familiar sword sticky with blood.

His hand closed on empty air over his shoulder. Shuanghua was not there. He touched his throat, and found smooth unblemished skin, though he remembered the feel of it splitting open like a plum, of his soul shattering into pieces, Shuanghua destroying evil one last time at his behest.

He had failed Shuanghua, too.

He had expected oblivion to follow, but perhaps nothing was ever truly destroyed. Perhaps this was the land where failed souls went, to reside with their failures and regrets. A gentler fate than he deserved.

For want of a better option, he followed the stream downwards, over rocky slopes. Tiny lizards scuttled away into cracks before his steps, and he wished, idly, he could pass through without disturbing them them. Perhaps he should have stayed where he woke, still and silent, troubling not even these little creatures. He had been thirsty, but did it even matter? It wasn't as if he could die again.

But he kept walking, only casting a doubtful glance back up the stream when it joined another, thickened into a bright torrent. He could go back, if he needed to - he could find his way back up the stream, find where he had drunk, turn west until he found the marks of his hands in the earth. The damage he'd left.

Dusk gathered swiftly, purple seeping up the eastern sky as orange stained the west, and the stream widened and slowed, turning a slow curve through green ferns. Xiao Xingchen stopped up on the rocks, and watched unfamiliar creatures come and drink, lifting their heads to search about for predators. He stayed still and quiet, letting them drink and scamper away to their burrows and nests as the stars lit up one by one.

No nest for him, no warm bed, no arms to throw over him in the night and hold him close. He went down to the stream, where the feet of countless animals had trodden down the leaves, and pulled off his boots and tied up his robes into his belt. The water was numbing on his feet, lapping around his ankles. He wanted to strip off his clothes and lie down in the water and let it sap all the pain from him, all the feeling.

Could he even drown?

He looked up, instead of down. The river of heaven was as bright as he'd ever seen it, from horizon to horizon.

It would be a relief to think that he might see his beloved once a year. It had never occurred to him before what a kindness that was, compared to going on without them, forever.

Your life is so much harder than those mythic lovers, daozhang, he heard, and he laughed; and then he gasped out loud and looked around, heart pounding. No, he was alone. Tears streaked his face once more. His little friend would wipe them up, scold him for wetting his bandage, hands brisk and careful.

No wonder, no wonder - while Xiao Xingchen had felt only gratitude for his little friend's kindness, his friend was revelling in the pain he'd caused, feeding on it like some foul leech. He pushed away the thought, and searched the stars for the two lovers, held apart.

He couldn't find them; perhaps it was the wrong time of year, or the wrong time of night. But he didn't recognise any of the constellations. He shook his head, and looked again, and again, but there were just... stars, scattered and unrecognisable, maps of unknown lands. Even the Moon looked bigger, hanging silver and swollen as it hung over the trees.

This really was death, then. He had hoped for the absence of pain.

Something touched his ankle, and he looked down at his feet, pale under the water. Stars flickered around them; a whole troop of tiny fish, shining in the moonlight.

"Hello, little ones," Xiao Xingchen whispered, his voice scraping in his throat. He swallowed down the scratchiness, licked his lips. "Are you ghosts too? Are you the spirits of animals that no longer walk the earth?" That would explain why he didn't recognise anything. Ghosts, all of them, just like him.

He once thought of cultivating to immortality, but abandoned it for the cares of the world. Would he face eternity here, alone? That would be fitting. Safer.

As if summoned by his thoughts, he heard noises from downriver, the crunch of branches and the rustle of leaves. He looked towards the sound, his heart speeding again.

It could be some kind of large animal, but he didn't think so, crashing through the night like that. His ears caught what might have been a curse, and fear welled up in him.

He couldn't be with people; whatever evils he could bring down in this strange world, he surely would. He stumbled around, searching for the bank where he'd left his boots, the fish scattering as broken ripples obscured them from his eyes.

Downriver, a dark shape formed out of the trees, and Xiao Xingchen stared in mounting horror as it strode towards him, black robes flapping.

*

"Fuck," Song Lan barked, and jolted at the word. Scared by his own fucking voice, like a - puppy, or something. He wrenched his hand off the tree it had stuck to, and inspected the sticky sap. Vile. A brief distraction from the vileness of the sweat collecting in his stiff hair, the vileness of the green, wet feel of air in his lungs, the slow unpleasant churn of his guts. Worst of all, the wet, moving sensation of his tongue in his mouth, moving restlessly, probing at his teeth and lips as if he'd trapped a slug in there.

Even the thrum of his blood, the golden note of his qi, were disturbing. How had he never noticed before how loud and insistent his body was? Even his brain was too loud, now, without his master's voice drowning out all the other sounds. A thousand different impulses, and his master's final order only rang loud because it was what he wanted to do.

Find Xiao Xingchen.

He'd said other things, too - told Song Lan to watch for a signal - but the trees were thick and he couldn't see the sky through the canopy. He followed the river upstream, hoping for the treeline, for clear space and a vantage point, but these were no managed woodlands for hunting, or even a well-trodden forest full of charcoal burners and woodcutters. This was deep, wild forest, and he ploughed gracelessly through waist-high undergrowth, making enough noise to scare off every beast in a mile.

He tried to wipe his hand clean on a leaf, but it crumpled and tore at the sticky pull, and he grimaced at the sharp smell that rose from it. The stream was rushing fast and the rocks were slick; he would go a little further, and hope for a place he could wash. His body was foul with life; tiny insects settled on him, and he felt their legs tickle at him.

It was dark before he finally tore free of the woods and into silver-washed meadow. And there standing in the black water saw Xiao Xingchen, pale as moonlight, serenely beautiful and whole for just a moment before he saw Song Lan. And then he crumpled in despair. He cried out as if wounded mortally, and Song Lan's gaze jumped over him, looking for a dark stain on his white robes, a sign that he was too late.

But no, Xiao Xingchen wept helplessly as Song Lan hurried towards him but the life stayed in him, and Song Lan clutched at him and said, "Xiao Xingchen, Xiao Xingchen," no other words coming to his lips.

"Zichen," he said, voice cracking, and it was the first time Song Lan had heard that name in a decade or more. He clasped Xiao Xingchen close, regardless of the sweat and muck and freezing water, and heard him say, "I'm so sorry, Zichen, I'm sorry that you're here, I'm sorry I failed you."

"No," Song Lan said, and "What?" and he tried to pull back, but Xiao Xingchen's face was buried in his shoulder. They were soaking wet, crouched in the shallows - no wonder Xiao Xingchen felt so cold. "Let's get out," he said, and tried to draw Xiao Xingchen up, and yanked on his hair.

"Ow!" Xiao Xingchen jerked back, and said "Ow!" again, with a sort of wounded bewilderment. His dark eyes met Song Lan's, questioning.

"My hand's stuck," Song Lan said, and a foolish heat rose in his cheeks. "It's - I got something on it, it's sticky, it's stuck, I'm sorry - "

Xiao Xingchen grabbed his wrist, frowned at his hand, plastered now with dark hair. Then he let out a short, abrupt noise that Song Lan did not recognise. Then another.

He was laughing, Song Lan realised, he must be hysterical. He assured Xiao Xingchen they could wash it out easily, but the water proved very little help, though he did get it peeled free of his hand. He set the soiled lock of hair gingerly over Xiao Xingchen's shoulder, aware he was dirtying his robes but unsure of what else to do. Xiao Xingchen was still letting out hiccupy laughs while Song Lan determinedly used the wet hem of his robe to scrub some of the stickiness off his hand.

Song Lan had never been easy with words; they came quickly only in wrath, when he needed them least. Seeing Xiao Xingchen's beloved, beautiful eyes fixed on him stilled even his horrible wriggling tongue from its escape attempts.

"Zichen," he said, after a little while, sounding more composed, "I think some oil would help."

"Oil?" Song Lan parroted stupidly.

"For - I think it's tree sap. Some oil will be better than water." He frowned. "Is there oil here, do you think? I didn't think death would be... sticky."

"We're not dead," Song Lan said, and corrected himself, "I don't think we're dead."

"But we must be. We died. And we're here, aren't we?" Xiao Xingchen waved a hand around him. "This isn't... Nothing is the same, haven't you noticed? The plants, the sky, the beasts. This is where we go when... I'm sorry, Zichen. It's my fault. Your soul was - tainted, by what happened to you, and so you're here with me."

Song Lan stared at him, his head bowed now, dark lashes fanned out over his cheekbones. If death meant finding him again, then it was no punishment at all, but -

"I don't think that's right," he said finally. "I was dead, and this doesn't - " his tongue poked at the corner of his mouth again. He had been truly dead for a while before he was raised. There hadn't been any of this, and being a fierce corpse hadn't been anything like this either. "I don't know. I do know I'm cold. Let's get out of the water. Where are your shoes?"

Song Lan's shoes were soaked and squelching, which at this point was just one more horrible bodily sensation in a long list. Xiao Xingchen stretched his slim, pale legs out to dry against the dark vegetation, and Song Lan sat next to him, fanning out the layers of his robes, black and grey. If they were dead, it wasn't so bad. He was chilly, and still clammy with sweat, his spine itching. Midges kept landing on his sweaty hairline, but none of that really mattered.

Xiao Xingchen looked at him, and a line appeared between his brows, marring his serenity. He said, "You - you have Shuanghua."

Song Lan looked down, and saw Shuanghua's pale belt crossed over Fuxue's.

At the very last moment, surrounded by threads and talismans and coins, Xue Yang had placed Shuanghua in his hands, talismans fluttering from hilt and scabbard. Xue Yang's hands had settled over his, fever-warm against his dead skin, his eyes huge and compelling. His own face, not Xiao Xingchen's, that vulpine grin sharp enough to cut.

Look at me, he'd ordered, look at me, listen. Don't give this to Xiao Xingchen unless you're sure he won't use it on himself, you understand me? If I find you and he's opened his throat again -

There had been threats. Xue Yang didn't bother with threats, not to Song Lan, his slave. They hadn't been for the loyal, obedient fierce corpse. They had been for this Song Lan, freed of his control, telling him not to give Xiao Xingchen his sword back.

And that meant, surely, that they weren't dead. Xue Yang had not planned to send them into death together, surely. Such an act of compassion was beyond him; and if they were dead, then what would it matter if Xiao Xingchen - did that?

He reached out, and very gently touched Xiao Xingchen's jaw with his clean hand, urged him to lift his chin and turn it, display the long line of his throat, unblemished from the curve of his jaw to the deep hollow of his collarbone.

"I don't understand what's happened," Song Lan said, and he couldn't resist brushing his fingertips down the moon-pale skin to feel it whole. "But I think Xue Yang did it." He felt Xingchen's throat work, lifted his hand away and wiped it clean once more on his wet robes. "I think he's here."

"No," Xingchen breathed, his eyes going wide and hollow. "I can't - I can't." He put his hands up to cover his face.

When they travelled together, Xiao Xingchen had always been the one to offer comfort and reassurance; his easy well of compassion for all the people they met giving him words to stop tears and inspire hope. Song Lan had his sword, and so now all he could say was, "I won't let - " and then stop, because he'd failed again and again to prevent Xue Yang from hurting Xiao Xingchen. Had wounded him terribly at Xue Yang's will, like the fool he was. He bit his lip, and tried again; bare facts, instead of empty promises.

"We were dead," Song Lan said, "And I was - a fierce corpse." Xiao Xingchen shuddered. "And Xue Yang has been trying to bring you back."

"No," Xiao Xingchen said again, and then, voice cracking, "Is there no escape from him? Isn't death enough? How can he hate so much?"

Song Lan had no words for that. Hate, of course, Xue Yang had in abundance, but it hadn't taken him long to realise that Xue Yang didn't intend to torment Xiao Xingchen.

But he would. It was inevitable. Xue Yang was poisonous, and he poisoned anything he touched.

Xiao Xingchen uncovered his eyes, face bone-white in the moonlight. He looked like the walking dead, like a white-robed ghost, eyes dark pits. He said, "I'm a coward."

"No. No, Xiao Xingchen, you're not - " Song Lan began, and then a bright spark in the sky caught their attention, sizzling high and then bursting into a fountain of light. They sat in silence as the sparks faded among the stars.

Had Xue Yang told him to watch for Xiao Xingchen's signal, or for his? Either way, that must be Xue Yang, trying to catch their attention. Luring them in.

Xiao Xingchen caught his sleeve as he went to rise, and said, "Let's just go. Leave him. What harm can he do here? There aren't any people, are there? We can go away. Up into the mountain, maybe."

"He'll follow us," Song Lan said. "He won't let you go."

It was a mistake, of course. Confronting Xue Yang was a mistake; but surely running from him was a mistake, too. There was no safe way to deal with Xue Yang, once you had caught his interest.

Interfered, said that tiny vicious part of him that still resented Xiao Xingchen for so cavalierly intervening in Xue Yang's actions. He pushed it away, and got to his feet. Xiao Xingchen followed him down the hill; unarmed, but Song Lan could not believe Xue Yang would harm him. Not physically.

The forest was dark, and the noises of it were subtly different from the forests he knew, an aura of unfamiliar danger. He had faced plenty of strange creatures, and he was sure the most dangerous in this forest was Xue Yang, but -

Xue Yang might not harm Xiao Xingchen, but there was no guarantee he was the only beast here.

Song Lan did not offer Shuanghua, and Xiao Xingchen did not ask for it.

The same sizzle and crack sounded, though the canopy was too thick to admit light. It sounded very close. Xiao XIngchen's footsteps stopped. Song Lan turned to him.

"Wait here," he said, and Xiao Xingchen stared, silent. "I'll be back soon."

Stupid to confront Xue Yang, stupid to do it when he expected it, stupid to go alone. He was doing it anyway. Perhaps he would make all his stupid choices over again, even knowing better, unable to fight them.

The trees gave way to a sloping spur of rock, jutting out over the hillside. Xue Yang, above him, was a dark shadow against the colours of the night sky, and when he turned Song Lan could only just make out the light glinting in his eyes. He knew Xue Yang was smiling, even before he spoke.

"There you are. I suppose I can't blame you for getting lost - come here, will you, have you seen this?"

Song Lan's legs moved automatically at Xue Yang's command, up the steep rock. Xue Yang clicked his tongue.

"You're a mess. Did you land in a river or something? Even your stupid hair is wonky - but it is your stupid hair! It worked, didn't it?" He reached for Song Lan, pulling at his outer robe, smoothing the collar, and Song Lan stared up at the shadow before him, talking as if it were just another day in the dust of Yi City. "Are you - you're sticky, Song Lan, are you a revered folk hero or a fucking toddler?"

He pulled Song Lan almost off-balance, and Song Lan shifted his weight to catch himself. Because he could move unbidden, he wasn't Xue Yang's puppet anymore, and with the thought Fuxue came to hand and swept out.

He smelled blood, but Xue Yang darted away, back up the rock.

"Oh, clever," he said, his voice a little ragged. "That was close. Listen - "

Song Lan knew better than to listen to a single word out of that venomous mouth. He charged up the rock, closing his ears to Xue Yang's rattle of words, and then a shower of sparkling dust filled the air, and Song Lan cartwheeled sideways with desperation and no grace to avoid it. He'd learned that much, at least.

Xue Yang dived off the side of the spur of rock and Song Lan followed, crashing through branches. He charged after Xue Yang knowing that it was foolish to run like this through unknown territory where there might be traps laid, knowing equally it was foolish to give Xue Yang a second to regroup, that he had to keep the pressure up. Xue Yang was smaller, agile, darting between the trees like a weasel, where Song Lan's sleeves caught in the lower branches and the spaces were all too small for him.

But he was stronger in qi and body, and he bulled his way through, Xue Yang just a little more than a sword's length ahead when they broke out of the trees, and tumbled in quick succession down a slope so steep it was almost a cliff. Xue Yang had been expecting it, and he got a headstart across the plain, the uncovered moon lighting it like a silver sea, the wind moving the vegetation in soft tidal ripples.

Song Lan's pursuit faltered as he glanced out over the waves; there were great moving shapes out there the size of whales, Xue Yang pelting ahead into the shadow of a beast as big as a temple. A neck reared up, and a massive foot - hoof? - stamped at the ground, and Song Lan's steps slowed and stopped. Xue Yang was lost somewhere beyond that terrible mass of flesh, and Song Lan could only take it in in glimpses; a head on the end of a towering neck, so tall it might take bites from the clouds. A tail that vanished away into the darkness like a road. The body, the body impossibly huge; Song Lan could have walked under it without his topknot brushing its belly, if he dared.

He didn't dare. This is death Xiao Xingchen had said, nothing here is the same, the stars or the beasts. Song Lan had seen his share of monsters, but this was beyond all reason. When he could finally look away from the one before him - when it settled, and dipped its long neck to rip at the bushes around its feet - he saw that at least a dozen similar beasts walked beyond it, grazing like the cattle of a giant. Perhaps these were the beasts the heavenly cowherd tended.

"Let's try again," said that loathsome voice behind him, and a blade pricked his back. Song Lan hissed out a breath of pure fury, and Xue Yang laughed, his self-satisfied laugh. "You only need one kidney, Song Lan, but you'll be uncomfortable without this one. Put the sword away, and we'll talk. Or don't, I pop out your organ, and we talk while I put you back together. And I will put you back together, but it won't be fun for you." Song Lan hesitated, considered the timings. Could he finish Xue Yang? He'd gladly die to do it, but to leave him alive once more - leave Xingchen to his dubious mercy -

He slowly, reluctantly, slid Fuxue into its sheath. He expected Xue Yang to take it away, but he didn't; he didn't even take Shuanghua. He just stepped away, and when Song Lan turned he was spinning his dagger in his hand, face alight.

"All right," he said, and his grin widened impossibly, as if he were some foul flesh-eating spirit that had nothing but teeth and hunger beneath his skin, "Let's talk."

*

"Quite something, aren't they?" Xue Yang said, sparing a flick of his gaze to the huge animals. He'd been unable to resist a closer inspection earlier; they seemed largely uninterested in something Xue Yang size hopping around their feet, although they got a little twitchy if he moved too fast. He'd tried to climb one, and it had shaken him off with an irritated huff, and stamped one foot in what was probably warning. "Now. Beside falling into rivers and rolling in... whatever the fuck that sticky stuff is, have you done anything useful?"

Song Lan's head cocked in silent question, gaze empty. He was alive, though, he was breathing, and Xue Yang couldn't taste the resentful energy that had shrouded him when he was a fierce corpse.

"Have you seen any sign of Xiao Xingchen?" Xue Yang said, tapping his dagger against his cheek. Song Lan had left a shallow cut over his throat; close, but not enough. Easily patched with a scarf, not like -

Song Lan shook his head.

"You do have your tongue back, right? No, you're just being a bitch." He stepped into range, dagger ready, keeping an eye on Song Lan's hands. He pressed his fingers to Song Lan's throat, and felt his speeding pulse, and the powerful surge of his qi. "Look at that," he crooned, "Look at that, your heart is beating, Song Lan! Your golden core is back! Even Wei Wuxian never managed that! Open your mouth, will you?"

Song Lan stepped back from him, nose wrinkling, and Xue Yang followed. "Just let me see," he said, and a note of undignified pleading entered his voice. "Don't you get it, Song Lan? If you haven't got your tongue back, then Xiao Xingchen doesn't have his eyes, and - " he stopped, swallowed, and Song Lan gave him a mean look from his eyes - his eyes! His own eyes, paler than Xiao Xingchen's - it was hard to tell in the moonlight, and it had been a very long time since he'd seen Xiao Xingchen's eyes, but he was sure -

"Xiao Xingchen is no business of yours," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang let out a long sigh. Song Lan had his stupid tongue. Song Lan was in perfect condition, and bitchy with it, so - well, Xiao Xingchen had to be pleased. Unless Song Lan decided to say bitch things to him again, of course, but Xue Yang wasn't a miracle worker.

Except he kind of was, wasn't he? He took a deep breath, and said, "Song Lan, look at you," and reached out for his face again, only to have his hand knocked away. He laughed. "You could be grateful, you know."

"I'll be grateful when you're dead," he snapped, and Xue Yang sighed.

"Well, if you ever want to get home, you'll have to wait on that. Do you even know where we are?"

"It doesn't matter."

"You know what does matter?" Xue Yang said. He could feel his patience fraying; Song Lan was such a fucking nightmare to deal with. "Xiao Xingchen matters. He should have his eyes, but souls aren't eyes, Song Lan. I don't even know if that's fixed, he could be just lying around, a corpse, being chewed on by a giant reptile - " he stopped. Song Lan's gaze had darted away for a second. "You've seen him," he said, cold, and then, "He's alive? His soul is repaired? Tell me, Song Lan!"

Song Lan was silent as his stupid fierce corpse form; Xue Yang should cut his fucking tongue out again if he wanted to be silent so badly. But surely if Xiao Xingchen was still dead, Song Lan would have thrown it in his face, railed against him. No, Xiao Xingchen was alive, and Song Lan was keeping him from Xue Yang.

"Song Lan," he said, sweet, and saw Song Lan's eyes widen. He breathed deep, feeling wrath expand in him like the wings of a great black crow. "Are you trying to hurt him? Don't you know how delicate he is right now, after what you did to him? Shouldn't you be more careful?"

"What you did to him," he said, and Xue Yang shook his head, smiled.

"He was happy in Yi City," he said. "He laughed all the time. He'd forgotten all about you, you know, how you hurt him, the things you said, and then you came back and you ruined it. If you'd had the sense to stay away from him he wouldn't have died that way, and neither would you!"

Song Lan spun away from him, Xue Yang's dagger too slow in pursuit, and then Fuxue was out and Xue Yang laughed. He drew Jiangzai and danced backwards, heat racing through him.

Then he swore, and dived away from Song Lan's blade. This was all wrong; he'd let his words run away with him again.

"I don't want you dead, Song Lan," he said, and ducked and leapt, kicking dirt into the air. The nearest of the beasts was eyeing them, and Xue Yang wasn't sure if it would attack or flee under stress. What if it stomped on Song Lan? Xue Yang had put a lot of work into him.

"I want you dead," Song Lan said, with his usual gift for repartee, and advanced. Xue Yang darted away, considering the treeline. He could likely lose Song Lan in there; take to the branches, perhaps, where Song Lan's weight would tell against him.

"You'll never get back if you kill me," he tried, but Song Lan was beyond reason, teeth bared, swinging like his sword was a hammer. He surely couldn't keep it up for long, but neither could Xue Yang. It had been a long day.

He glanced towards the treeline again, and almost lost his head as he hesitated, the blade so close he swore it clipped a few stray hairs. There, in the trees - he ran, turning his back heedlessly on Song Lan.

Xiao Xingchen came drifting out of the trees like a man in a dream. He walked straight off the cliff, floating down like a cloud to the earth. He didn't seem to see either of them, his big dark eyes - his eyes! fixed on some distant point.

Xue Yang skidded to his knees, heard Fuxue slice over his head, and clutched at Xiao Xingchen's robes, unpleasantly damp under his hands. Song Lan's breath rasped behind him, but he didn't swing his blade again; unwilling to spatter Xiao Xingchen's robe with his foul blood, no doubt. That was fine. That was fine.

Xiao Xingchen was here, alive, moving, his soul intact. Xue Yang breathed light and glory. His greatest work, greater than the Chang massacre - anyone could murder a clan, after all, that was a petty triumph by comparison. The ecstasy he'd felt then was a poor shadow of the tumult in his heart now.

"See," Xiao Xingchen said, speaking from somewhere far away, "We must be dead. Those are dragons."

Well, that wasn't good. Didn't sound healthy at all. Xue Yang pulled insistently at his robe, and said, "Daozhang!" when ignored.

Xiao Xingchen looked at him, finally, his dark eyes widening, and his lip curled up in the sneer he'd worn that day he - Xue Yang shook the memory away, and said, "Daozhang, you're not dead, I - no!"

Shuanghua had flown to his outstretched hand, and Song Lan and Xue Yang both cried out in alarm as the white blade arced through the air, Xiao Xingchen tearing out of Xue Yang's grip.

This time, though, he didn't turn the blade on himself. The point settled on the hollow of Xue Yang's throat, light and chill as a snowflake, and Xue Yang sagged in relief.

It was hideous, to depend so heavily on another person's actions; to know that with one careless moment they could take away the most precious thing you had. The point of the blade scratched over the hastily bandaged wound Song Lan had given him, rose to the soft place under his chin. One good thrust could open his throat and separate his skull from his spine. He looked up the blade, into Xiao Xingchen's eyes, cold and distant as the stars, but there, and fixed on him. Seeing him.

After the Chang massacre, he'd looked at death in Nie Mingjue's eyes, seen Baxia an inch from his nose. It had seemed a fitting death, and well-timed; the thrill of the massacre was wearing off, and he'd known he'd never feel such glory again.

He was truly gifted, to have made himself an even greater victory, but once again he could feel the blunt and tedious edges of consequences fraying at him. Perhaps it was time. Xiao Xingchen would never forget him, after all, alone in this world with only Song Lan to keep him company.

Xue Yang ducked his head, and rubbed his cheek affectionately on Shuanghua. It opened his skin, and he smiled. He'd carried it for years, but it knew its true master. He kissed the blade, ice and blood, and said, "If it makes you feel better, Daozhang."

"Don't call me that," Xiao Xingchen said, voice throbbing. Xue Yang didn't speak; waited. His knees were cold, the damp earth soaking through. Xiao Xingchen stared down at him, sword perfectly steady. Unmoving, like Song Lan had stood that day, waiting for a command; but alive.

Then Song Lan spoke, each word slow and grudging. "He says we'll never find our way back if he dies."

"Does it matter?" Xiao Xingchen said, gaze flicking up to him and then back before Xue Yang had a chance to miss it. "Hasn't our mistake been, again and again, not killing this creature when we had the chance? Listening to him?"

Xue Yang's mouth opened, lip curling back from his teeth, and he could taste the words. Daozhang, where to start with your mistakes -

He looked at the blood on Shuanghua and then at Xiao Xingchen's clean white throat, and he wrapped his hands around the blade. Xiao XIngchen drew it back too slow, and Xue Yang spread his hands silently, his palms and fingers wet with blood. He'd smeared them with Xiao Xingchen's blood, once, as if he could somehow force it back into his body.

Xue Yang was not going to make the same mistake again, not after so many years putting it right. He raised his head to look at Xiao Xingchen once more, and smiled at the sight of clear tears on his face. He looked at Song Lan, now, and Xue Yang turned his head enough he could keep him in view. He wouldn't lie down and die for Song Lan.

"We haven't seen any sign of anyone else," Song Lan said, sounding like it pained him, "And as you say, nothing is familiar. No smoke, no paths. Not even the moutains look familiar, and those - those things. And how can this be the land of the dead? Why would I have your sword? Why would Xue Yang kill himself? We're alive, but far from home. The world is vast. We could be ten thousand miles from home." He paused, and then said, "But I have nothing to return for. Xue Yang should die."

Well, fuck him, then. Xue Yang said, "We're in Yueyang," and they both looked at him, Xiao Xingchen puzzled, and Song Lan's mouth set in that flat line of disgust that itched at Xue Yang's nerves. As if Xue Yang wasn't even worth his notice. Xue Yang had made him notice, again and again, and he'd do it some more.

"That seems a very pointless lie," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang grinned up at him.

"If you paid attention, or had an original thought in your narrow little brain, you might have figured it out, Song Lan. You have your tongue back; all right. But why would your hair be in that stupid style? Why would you be in your old clothes? Don't you understand yet? I couldn't repair what had broken, so the answer was to stop it ever breaking. I reversed the course of time and took us back. Only... I seem to have taken us just a little too far. How long have people been around for, Song Lan?"

Song Lan's mouth hung open; at the question, he blinked a couple of times, and then said, "Written history... dates from the time of the Yellow Emperor, who - but there was already an empire then. That was said to be five thousand years ago, so - perhaps ten thousand years?"

"Look at that, you do have uses," Xue Yang said. He saw Shuanghua's blade twitch, and hurried on. "So I missed a little bit. Put too much force into it, probably. I wanted to go a few years, ended up ten thousand. Or so. Maybe a bit more. This is Dafan mountain, I think? But clearly, the principle is sound, it's just a case of - the point is, you can't just walk back because back doesn't exist yet. You can cultivate to immortality and wait for ten thousand years, or you can let me build a new array and take us all back, with all our... all our body parts." He curled his hand in on itself, flexing the leather glove. "And our intact souls. Or you can just live and die here without ever seeing another person aside from each other again. It's your choice, Xiao Xingchen. You can have some time to think it over."

Chapter Text

Xiao Xingchen knew he was making a mistake even as he made it; as Song Lan said wait here for me and walked away. He was failing Song Lan once again, his weakness winding through him and forcing his limbs to stillness and his mouth to silence as Song Lan vanished away into the trees once more.

It took him long minutes to move; if he could not kill Xue Yang to avenge Song Lan, surely he could do it to protect him? The feel of Fuxue's blade under his fingertips, cold, blood-sticky -

Fright spurred him, and he followed the path Song Lan had left, dim with only the occasional spear of moonlight piercing the canopy. He found broken ferns and footprints, and then a broader path where people had run headlong, leaving a tunnel through the undergrowth. His heart rose into his throat, and he was suddenly sure he was too late, would break into light to see Song Lan in a pool of his own blood, Xue Yang's nightmare smile turned on him.

And now with Xue Yang on his knees, his blood cold, he couldn't do it. Xue Yang should die Song Lan said, but he made no move to do it himself. Only Xue Yang seemed willing to draw his own blood, a red crescent on his cheek mirroring the curve of his white smile, his hands stained as he'd stained Xiao Xingchen's.

He'd thought that seeing that cruel smile would make it easier, but it did not. Xue Yang said daozhang in the voice Xiao Xingchen loved, and his will failed once more. Xue Yang didn't drip poison or spit fire, only stared with wide black eyes, and Xiao Xingchen turned away and looked helplessly at Song Lan.

"You're shaking," Song Lan said, carefully, and sure enough the tip of Shuanghua wavered through the air. Xiao Xingchen stooped to wipe the blade clean of Xue Yang's blood in the damp grass, and then polished it to dryness on the hem of his robe. He hesitated, and Song Lan dipped his shoulder, stooping slightly to let Xiao Xingchen sheathe the blade on his back again.

He did not deserve to carry Shuanghua, after he had failed the blade so badly.

"We should find shelter," Song Lan said. "Get you warm. This has been a shock. We can decide what to do about Xue Yang tomorrow - he's clearly not a danger to you."

But he was a danger to Song Lan, and Xiao Xingchen could hardly let that pass. He looked down at Xue Yang, still on his knees, watching with interest, his smile luminous in the night. Other men seemed weakened and diminished on their knees or bound, but Xue Yang gave up nothing, no less dangerous than a viper drawing in its coils to strike.

"Give me your sword," Xiao Xingchen said, and had the sour pleasure of seeing Xue Yang's expression falter. Unlike a viper, he was dangerous without his fangs, but it was a start. "We'd be fools to leave you armed."

Xue Yang's lips pursed, and he looked up at the night sky for a moment, revealing the stained scarf wrapped around his throat. Song Lan had - Xiao Xingchen's stomach lurched at the thought of coming out onto the plain to find Xue Yang already dead, the decision made.

Then Xue Yang laughed, not the nightmarish laugh that had presided over charnel houses, but the easy laugh that followed Xiao Xingchen's tentative attempts at jokes, or A-Qing's sharp remarks. He flexed his hand, and the sword appeared - Jiangzai. It was safely sheathed, but with its energy unhidden, it was as vibrant with dark light as Xue Yang himself. He eyed Xiao Xingchen, fingers drumming against the grip, and then he twisted and flipped the sword, fast enough to make Xiao Xingchen flinch back.

Xue Yang offered the hilt to Song Lan, one eyebrow arching up, grin wide.

"Be careful with her," he said, voice low and crooning. "She bites."

Song Lan took it gingerly, holding it in a loose grip, and said, "You have a dagger."

"Song-daozhang, there are dragons as tall as the sky here, and who knows what else. Will you say you'll protect me if I give up all my weapons? Of course not. You have my sword, be satisfied. Here, look - " he drew his fingers across his chest, making the gestures. "There, I've sealed my qi. Don't ask more."

Song Lan glanced at Xiao Xingchen, who could only manage a weary shake of his head. It wasn't as if that was any guarantee of safety. Other cultivators, denied sword and qi, were feeble things, but Xue Yang -

"There are some more rocky outcrops along the basin," Xue Yang said. "Some of them looked like good shelter. Let's get you somewhere warmer, daozhang, you - "

"Don't call me that!" Xiao Xingchen cried out, and Xue Yang's smile wavered, turned wry.

"Xiao Xingchen," he said. Smiled. "Let's find shelter. I'll go in front, so you can stab me in the back if you need to."

He trotted ahead, the fast soft sound of his footsteps very familiar, almost as familiar as Song Lan's falling into step beside him. Xiao Xingchen could not look at him, but he knew that warm, steady presence.

Would have said once that he could recognise it anywhere.

"You should do as you think best," Xiao Xingchen said, his gaze roaming out across the silver plain, the shadowy giants moving through it.

"I wish I knew," Song Lan said quietly. His voice was level, but Xiao Xingchen could hear the tension humming in it. "Is he telling the truth?"

"Who can say, with Xue Yang?" His own bitterness surprised him. "Perhaps things will seem different, in the daylight."

Song Lan made a neutral little noise, the noise he made when he neither agreed nor disagreed, but wished to acknowledge that he had heard and considered Xiao Xingchen's words. It made tears well in Xiao Xingchen's eyes; he let them spill over, did not brush them away. Perhaps they might escape notice in this deceptive silver light.

This plain might have been a lake once; it looked to be a vast circle, though the edges were crumbling. It was too big to have been the work of man, surely, though men would have made some myth, attributed it to the mark of a god. Xiao Xingchen took another look at the beasts, and wondered if the presence of dragons might also mean the presence of godly beings, walking here in the land before men.

Surely it could not be true. Surely, they had been transported to some far-distant land by a new transportation array, and their homeland was walking or perhaps sailing distance, not the abyss of ten thousand years.

His shifu was an immortal, an impossibly old being, and yet she counted her age in centuries. Ten thousand years was an uncountable stretch of time. Well. He had wanted to retire from the world, hadn't he? It was bitter irony he was here with the two he had sought to leave behind.

No, not irony. The deliberate work of Xue Yang. He looked ahead at the sheet of black hair, the bouncing stride. Xue Yang, who had lived at his side for three years, planning the most malicious of revenges, speaking to him as a dear friend. What was his end now? What was there left he could strip from them?

There was little in the way of shelter. They settled on a nook of stone and wood, where a large fallen tree leaned against a short pane of rock. There was a sheltered area the cool wind did not reach, and it was dry and smelled only faintly of decaying wood. Not unpleasant. He settled in, knees drawn up, and Xue Yang said, "I'll get some wood, you get a fire started," to Song Lan.

"I don't," Song Lan said, and his hand went to his sleeve, and then he drew out a qiankun pouch, and frowned at it.

"You have your things," Xue Yang said. "Start a fire before Xiao Xingchen freezes solid." Xiao Xingchen thought about stopping him, but he was off, running, before Xiao Xingchen could assemble a sentence. Song Lan pursed his lips, but knelt and used a stick to sweep clear a patch of dirt and then make a pile of browned, curling fern fronds. By the time he had a little blaze going, Xue Yang was back, dropping a bundle of twigs, and off again.

When he had first limped from his bed in Yi City, he had turned instantly to helpful tasks, taking them out of Xiao Xingchen's very hands; forcing his helpfulness on them, making himself useful. Gaining Xiao Xingchen's trust, so easily given. It wouldn't work this time.

"There's a lot of fallen wood," he remarked on his next trip back, dropping a large armful, and beginning to break it up. "I suppose there's no-one else to gather it. Is this enough for the night? I'll be going, then."

"Going?" The word burst out of Xiao Xingchen's mouth. "Where?"

"You'll stay where we can see you," Song Lan said, rising, and Xue Yang fled back from him, a malicious little chuckle escaping him.

"Going to chase me into the dark and leave Xiao Xingchen alone?" he said, and Song Lan's jaw flexed. Xue Yang couldn't outrun Song Lan, not with his qi sealed, but no doubt in desperation he would do terrible things. He wouldn't have done it in the first place if he didn't have other options.

He was, Xiao Xingchen remembered abruptly, a demonic cultivator. Sealing his qi did nothing to stop up those abilities.

"I'm not your prisoner. You have Jiangzai, and you have Xiao Xingchen, so you can rest assured you'll see me again soon. But you're the biggest fool alive if you think I'll sleep in your company. I'd never wake. Sleep well, Xiao Xingchen." And he turned and sprinted away, gone into the shadow of the trees before either of them had made up their minds to pursue.

Did it really matter? Very likely. The wrong choices made, again and again, but what good choices were there? Xiao Xingchen rubbed at his face, and sighed, and Song Lan sank down on his dancing shadow and began to build the fire higher. After a minute, he checked the qiankun bag, and drew out the iron kettle, and a waterskin.

"We'll have to find the stream again tomorrow," he said, and began to heat the water. "When we are rested..." he shook his head. "I don't understand what's happening, Xiao Xingchen."

Xiao Xingchen was silent. He extended his hands for the cup of tisane when Song Lan held it out for him, his fingers burning; he was very cold indeed, he realised, and hitched himself closer to the fire. He thought it smelled a little more pungent than the usual fire they burned, but perhaps that was his imagination leading him astray with the knowledge that these were not familiar trees.

He almost dropped the cup, catching it just before he nodded off. He passed it back to Song Lan, and Song Lan said, "Sleep. You must be - it's been a long day."

Perhaps it had. By any measure, it had been a long time since he slept. The last time, he had been tangled up with his little friend, a blanket tucked tightly around them. Hold me tight, daozhang, it's cold out there for a petty cultivator -

He shivered, and Song Lan shrugged out of his heavy grey robe and tucked it around Xiao Xingchen's shoulders, as if it weren't as cold for him. "Sleep," he said, firmly, and pressed down on his shoulder, and Xiao Xingchen curled up on his side, the flames shining red through his closed lids. He felt a hand brush along his hair, hesitant and gentle, and shivered again; his little friend had used to seek affection with all the casual roughness of a horse nudging its rider.

He forced his breathing to regularity, his mind to emptiness, until he fell asleep.

He sat up in a hurry only a few hours later, and looked wildly about him, startled by jumble of shapes that crowded his vision. The light of the fire made his eyes water, and the shadows made him flinch back as they leapt and grabbed.

His gaze settled on Song Lan, Fuxue laid across his lap, eyes sharp and alert, and his pounding heart slowed. Xiao Xingchen had never thought to set eyes on him again, and he looked, and breathed, and steadied.

"A dream," he said, though he couldn't remember it. "You should get some sleep, you'll feel better."

"I haven't slept in a long time," Song Lan admitted, and Xiao Xingchen stared at him. How long - he would ask later. His head ached with all he had been forced to know.

The darkness had lost its velvet quality, was smearing like watered silk. The moon had set, leaving them in shadow until dawn came. He spread Song Lan's grey robe over his shoulders when he lay down, and resisted the urge to smooth Song Lan's hair.

Tomorrow - later today - they would talk, and Xiao Xingchen could once again apologise to him. Would Song Lan turn away from him once more? He didn't seem inclined to it, but Xue Yang's presence inevitably brought them together, as it had driven them apart. He rubbed his hands over his arms, and hunched closer to the fire. Sleep had clarified little for him.

He wondered now if he had truly seen the dragon-like beasts, or merely imagined them. He looked down at Song Lan, again and again; his deep breaths, the way his brow crumpled a little even in sleep, as if his dreams worried him. He was as real as Xiao Xingchen, however real that was.

As real as Xue Yang. Was he watching them now? They would be easy to spot, the fire a bright point in the darkness. What was he planning? Had he truly brought them here by accident, or was that just another lie?

Xue Yang is cunning, he had said once, assured of himself, confident the situation was under control, that Xue Yang's machinations were at an end, though Xue Yang had laughed. Had he been so sure that he was going to live? Xiao Xingchen remembered feeling just a touch of pity, assuming that the reality of his situation, his certain death, had not sunk in. That fear and regret would come in time.

Xue Yang wanted revenge. In all the days Xiao Xingchen had known him - and then not known him - he'd sought for that, and he'd brought it about with unspeakable cruelty. And death, it seemed, was not enough. He wanted them alive to suffer further. Perhaps he just wanted to see them struggle alone, far from any new lives they could ever had built. Perhaps he'd brought them together for the pleasure of seeing them turn against each other again.

But they were together, and that was another chance. He could do better by Song Lan, this time. He would.

The sun rose. It could be that Xiao Xingchen was the only person in the world to see it. Unlike the moon, the stars, it appeared unchanged by whatever had happened to them. He watched long shadows stretch across the grass, and saw the tall shapes like the masts of ships, swaying and dipping; the dragon-beasts were there, then, not a dream. They were coloured in blue-greys and lilac in a dappled pattern; he could barely make them out against the hazy morning sky.

Well, ten thousand years or not, dragons or not, they still needed to eat. He took up Song Lan's qiankun pouch, and found the pot, the water, and the rice. This was still the same; and it was almost the same how Song Lan woke slowly, rubbing his eyes with his hand, pushing up onto an elbow. Xiao Xingchen smiled at him, and Song Lan smiled back, sweet and open.

"You're here," he said, and Xiao Xingchen said, "Yes, I'm here."

Song Lan sat up, and grimaced. There was dirt on his face, and his hair was severely dishevelled. But he was beautiful, alive and whole and his mouth still falling into a sweet curve every time he glanced at Xiao Xingchen. A miracle Xiao Xingchen had never expected. He wrinkled his nose at his dirty hands, and then said, "We must find the stream again today."

"And perhaps better shelter," Xiao Xingchen agreed, passing him the waterskin so he could clean his hands a little. "It must rain here, wherever we are."

They ate their breakfast; Xiao Xingchen found, despite everything, he was not quite hungry enough to finish his bowl, and dumped it back into the pot in case Song Lan wanted it. The fire was almost out, but the sun was bright now, and Xiao Xingchen didn't feel cold at all.

But shivered when he a familiar step, and turned his head to see Xue Yang approaching. Alarm piped up at the sight of him, that terrible face that Xiao Xingchen had seen once and had nightmares about for years. He didn't look dishevelled at all, his hair and robes neat, but he did look tired, his face all sharp lines and shadows. Xiao Xingchen's hand curled, but he didn't call for Shuanghua, sitting safe across Song Lan's back.

Jiangzai was stuffed into his belt; Xue Yang could call it back to him, if he were close enough.

But Xue Yang stopped a distance away, and theatrically made the gestures to lock his qi before coming closer. He stopped again some ten paces away, and stared at Xiao Xingchen, his smile widening. "Look at that," he said. Low, almost reverent. "Just like new."

"Hardly," Xiao Xingchen said, and Xue Yang's mouth twisted before settling back into a small smile. He looked away, and his eyes settled on the pot. He came forward and settled down on the other side of the dying fire, and wrapped his hands in the hem of his robe to pick up the pot.

"Cold at night," he remarked, setting it in his lap and pressing his covered hands to the side. "Oh, you left me some." He drew chopsticks from his sleeve and began to eat, as if there was nothing unusual about the day. Xiao Xingchen should protest; he did not. Neither did Song Lan, who eyed Xue Yang with a sort of baffled fury.

When it became clear Xue Yang was not going to volunteer anything, Song Lan said, "I don't remember you putting my qiankun bag into my sleeve."

"I didn't," Xue Yang said. He chewed another mouthful of rice, gaze flicking between them, then said, "Okay, it's been a rough time. But isn't it obvious? I was trying to take us to a time when you were... intact. You've got your tongue, you've got your old clothes, you've got your stupid hair, which by the way is looking really stupid. You've got all the stuff you had then, which I assume includes a comb, so you've no excuse. Xiao Xingchen, you too - I don't know what you used to carry around with you, but you should have it."

Xiao Xingchen stared at him, then reached into his sleeve, and felt around. His qiankun pouch, sure enough. And it did explain his hairpiece.

"But I had Shuanghua," Song Lan said, "And you're still wearing all that." He nodded at Xue Yang's robe, which... Xiao Xingchen couldn't remember what Xue Yang had worn all those years ago. Black, certainly. He mainly remembered Xue Yang's vivid eyes and flashing smile, the sharp edges to his words, the way his laugh echoed off the walls.

His little friend had worn very fine clothes, he could tell that by touch; smooth silks and elaborate brocades. These looked similar enough, black and green, close around his narrow frame, one hand partially gloved as always.

He'd claimed his hand was maimed in battle, and it had been plausible enough. There were many wounded in the Sunshot campaign, after all. Xiao Xingchen had never pried.

"Very good, Song Lan," Xue Yang said. "I didn't want Xiao Xingchen waking up alone and confused with his sword, so I bound it to you with a talisman. Same for my things - I wanted to bring all my notes and tools, in case something went wrong. Good thing, too; I wouldn't have half the paper I needed if I just had my things from then. The sword was hardest, though. You see, I have this theory that swords are like souls, they can only - all right, you don't know the theory about souls, which is how I thought - "

"I don't care," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang closed his mouth, looking irritated for a moment before he smiled. "Can you take us back?"

"Yes. I'll take some time to go over my notes - clearly, it's easy to go much further than you mean to. I have no idea what would happen if I took us to a time that hasn't happened yet."

Xiao Xingchen said, "Is that possible?" and Xue Yang shrugged, as if it were no matter at all.

"Say the word, daozhang, and I'll find out for you."

"Don't call me that," Xiao Xingchen snapped, and Xue Yang gave an impatient roll of his eyes. "What are you planning, Xue Yang?"

"I told you - " Xue Yang began, and Xiao Xingchen cut him off.

"Don't deceive me. You restore our bodies, our lives, take us home - then what? What fate do you intend for us then?"

Xue Yang's mouth fell into a flat line. Then it curled, not pleasantly. "Xiao Xingchen," he said. "Did you enjoy our time in Yi City?"

Xiao Xingchen flinched. Song Lan reached up and curled his fingers around Fuxue's hilt with slow deliberation. Xue Yang flicked him a glance in which scorn and wariness mingled. "I did," Xue Yang said. "We can go back. Only you can have your eyes, and your Zichen, all alive and well, and if you like I can disguise myself - put on the face of some petty cultivator who's never killed anything bigger than a baby ghost - and I'll be your little friend and you can pretend you never knew I was Xue Yang. Doesn't that sound nice?"

"You're insane," Song Lan said, disgust vibrating in his voice. "Do you think I'd let - "

"Do you think it's up to you?" Xue Yang said, sharp, and grinned with all his teeth. "I brought you back from the dead, Song Lan, I made your corpse my slave and now I've brought you back to true life for Xiao Xingchen." His smiled softened as he looked back at Xiao Xingchen. "For you, Xiao Xingchen. If you want him that's fine, I can tolerate him."

"No," Xiao Xingchen said, head whirling. "Tell me the truth, Xue Yang. What is it that you want?"

Xue Yang stared at him, and then he said, "You're tired. Think it over. Rest. There's time. Well, there's all the time you want, here. I'm going to go re-read my notes, maybe take a nap. I know you need a little time to adjust to things." He looked at Song Lan and said, "Be careful with him," and Song Lan visibly swelled with rage. Xue Yang snickered, and then he was up and away, pot discarded on the ground.

"I hate him so much," Song Lan said. His teeth were gritted, so the words came out mangled.

Strange, to hear him speak like that. He had always been so calm, passion rarely moving him. Hate had been an unfamiliar emotion to him. Even faced with the Chang massacre, he had been grieved, but not indignant. Something Xue Yang had taught him.

"If you want, you…" Xiao Xingchen said, and illustrated with an airy, indistinct gesture. "I won't stop you."

"And then we'll be trapped here," he said. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad."

"It might be the right thing to do," Xiao Xingchen said, "If the alternative would be taking him back to more people he can harm." Song Lan sighed agreement, and Xiao Xingchen said, "Tell me. How long has it been?"

Song Lan closed his eyes. He said, "A while."

"More than a year?" Xiao Xingchen hazarded, and Song Lan nodded. It didn't feel like a year. It felt as though it had all just happened, every bruise still fresh. He felt his neck, where he should have carried, at least, a scar. Xue Yang had wiped it away as if it had never been.

"We should find water," Song Lan said. "First of all. Whether we stay or go, we'll need it."

That was unarguable. They gathered their small possessions and made sure the fire was properly stamped out, and then Xiao Xingchen said, "Can we walk close to the... dragons."

"Of course," Song Lan said. "We might get a better view of where there's water on the slope from further away."

They walked, side by side, and Xiao Xingchen wondered if Xue Yang would be able to find them if they just walked away. A pretty dream, but it would be foolish to leave him alive and angered.

What if he travelled back alone, and left them here?

They'd never have to face him again. Xiao Xingchen would never again be faced with the choice of killing him. And he'd have Song Lan -

A selfish thought, unconcerned for either Song Lan, or the innocents who would surely fall victim to Xue Yang upon his furious return to their own time. He sighed, and Song Lan looked at him.

"Just worried about... everything," Xiao Xingchen said with a shake of his head, and Song Lan nodded. He looked so completely, beautifully himself, but his hair was listing at a foolish angle. Xingchen's own hair was still sticky and snarled. At least they would have hair oil to wash out the mess, for a little while.

They would have to check over their resources; see how much food they had packed away. Xue Yang said he had prepared for the trip -

"We probably shouldn't get too close," Song Lan said, and they stopped perhaps fifty paces from the nearest dragon-beast, which had turned itself towards them. It was not, quite, the largest thing Xiao Xingchen had ever seen; he thought some tall towers outdid it. But for such a thing to be living was truly astonishing. He watched the head dip down towards the ground, tearing at leaves, and then rear up again, a ripple passing down the long throat, which was frilled with hanging flesh like wattles on a chicken. How much did it eat? They had been grazing in the night, and they grazed now. Perhaps they could do nothing else, working constantly to support their vast size. Xiao Xingchen longed to touch one, to feel the vast size under his fingers, the muscles rippling. Perhaps feel a slow heartbeat thudding away.

"I wonder where they drink," Xiao Xingchen said. "They must need a lot of water."

"True," Song Lan said, and they skirted the herd until they found a well-trodden path towards the basin edge, where a small ravine poured a waterfall into a shallow pool. It was populated by a colony of - birds, Xiao Xingchen supposed, knee-high half-plucked looking things that picked their way through the water and snapped up whatever small creatures swam in it with chunky beaks.

The pool itself was one-half disturbed mud, but they made their way up the steep slope and followed the stream to an accessible point. Xiao Xingchen thought it was a different stream from yesterday's, but he couldn't be sure. It would be easy to be lost, here, with only the expanse of the natural world, and no familiar stars to steer by.

His hair oil was safe in his qiankun pouch, and he poured a little into Song Lan's palm before attending to the patch of sap in his own hair. He was distracted by the way the oil glowed like amber in the sunlight, and then by the way the water sparkled, and then by Song Lan's hands, steady working oil into his skin, his thumb rubbing circles into the sap stains. There was so much to look at.

Some of the tension went out of Song Lan when he'd oiled and then soaped his hands clean. He was working under his nails with a bone pin when he echoed Xiao Xingchen's earlier thoughts. "I have no idea how to make soap, or oil."

"Soap is easy," Xiao Xingchen said. "Ashes from the fire and fat in the pan will make a soap." He watched Song Lan's nose wrinkle, and smiled. "Boiling it down makes a softer, cleaner soap, but - well, we don't have pans, or buckets. We made most of our own things on the mountain, but we had years of tools and equipment and of course the elders among us had many decades of experience. Shifu could make a watertight bucket from a slab of wood using only a hatchet. I... can't."

Even in Yi City, they had bought soap for their hair and bodies. They could forage for food in the woods, but the coffin house was unpleasant when filled with the scent of unwashed bodies or animal fat. His little friend had been particular about his own appearance, washing clean even in the depths of winter when A-Qing refused to wash more than her face and hands. He would threaten to toss her into the iced-over river, but it had never quite come to that.

A-Qing had run away to safety. He pressed his tongue to the back of his teeth, and turned his attention to combing his hair. Song Lan was brushing the mud from the hem of his grey robe, his hair down, loose and wavy with damp.

"What are we going to do?" Xiao Xingchen said, and Song Lan shook his head. Xiao Xingchen could not remember them having this sort of conversation; they had always been deeply in accord. Or perhaps - Xiao Xingchen flushed - he had always assumed they were in accord, and acted, and Song Lan had bowed politely to his will, until he had gone too far in his assumptions.

"I want to kill him," Song Lan said. "Don't you?"

"It should be done," Xiao Xingchen said, and could not meet Song Lan's gaze, both of them aware of what he did not say. The silence stretched, and Xiao Xingchen said "I know," as if Song Lan had accused him.

"I don't understand," Song Lan said. When Xiao Xingchen dared to look, he was focused hard on the dust flaking away under each stroke of the brush.

"I don't either." Xingchen smoothed a strand of hair, running his fingers down it again and again. "For me, it was only yesterday that he - he was my friend. I thought. I can't - I know it was a lie. But my heart doesn't know it, and my swordarm falters at the thought - " Tears welled up, suddenly, and he said, "I killed a friend only yesterday, and I can't do it again. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

His throat burned; he swallowed, again and again, trying to choke down the feelings that engulfed him. It was unfair to Song Lan, who had his own feelings, who had far more grievance to hold against Xue Yang and Xiao Xingchen both.

"Will you stop me?" Song Lan said, voice expressionless, and Xiao Xingchen shook his head.

"I know it should be done. And even if I were in doubt, I trust your judgement far more than my own."

Is it wise to involve ourselves in the business of the sects? Song Lan had said, once, and Xiao Xingchen had not heeded his caution, and set this whole chain of events in motion.

"It will be a hard life, here," Xiao Xingchen said. "But we can live, I think." He tried for a smile. "If you will accept my company."

Something moved at the corner of his vision; he looked up, and found Song Lan's hand, extended to him. He bit his lip, and carefully took hold of it, holding it loosely so Song Lan could pull away if he wanted to, if it became too much. But Song Lan only squeezed his hand and said, "Your company is what I want most in the world, Xiao Xingchen."

Xiao Xingchen breathed through the knot of regret and pain in his chest, and smiled more easily. "We will have plenty of time to cultivate, at least," he said, and Song Lan smiled back.

He had wanted to retreat from the world, and could there be any deeper retreat than this?

Clean, and with filled waterskins, the walk back down to the basin was more comfortable. It was strange to think they would not encounter a path or a road, that they would have no chance of running into a woodcutter or hunter.

"Look," Song Lan said softly, once, and Xiao Xingchen looked up to see a strange-shaped yellow lizard the size of a hare darting on its hind legs through the undergrowth. It hesitated, catching sight of them; tilted its crested head to inspect them with each eye in turn. Then it ran on, dismissing them.

"I've never seen an animal walk on its hind legs," Xiao Xingchen said, and then, "Oh, no, I once saw a dancing dog at a fair. It had bells on its collar."

He remembered sitting amid a crowd of children, watching the dog dance; it had taken him a little while to realise the dog was painfully thin, and the owner had a bamboo cane he used to chastise it when it dropped down to all fours. It had danced with a wild look in its eyes, and the young girl who played the pipes it danced to had been thin as well. But the man who held the cane hadn't been fat, either. If the dog didn't dance, none of them ate. But the performance hadn't been very enjoyable, after he'd noticed.

"These aren't like the beasts we have at home," Song Lan agreed. "We haven't seen anything with fur yet."

"The birds barely seem to have feathers."

"Xiao Xingchen!" A familiar voice, and yet not; the voice of his little friend entwined with the memory of Xue Yang's terrible voice. But it could be no-one else, of course. They turned in unison and looked up; Xue Yang had found himself a vantage point, sitting on the edge of a small cliff. He smiled down at them, bright as sunlight, and then opened his hands and tossed down a handful of something.

Song Lan reversed sharply, Fuxue instantly in hand; Xiao Xingchen reached out, and caught a leaf, turning it over.

"So wary, Song-daozhang, didn't I tell you you were safe from me?" Xue Yang chided.

"Yesterday you threw one of your vile powders at me," Song Lan snapped.

"Just smoke. I told you, I don't want you hurt. Unless Xiao Xingchen tires of you."

Xiao Xingchen looked up, and said, as clear and cutting as he could, "I could never tire of Zichen."

"Fine. Anyway. I found those for you." Xiao Xingchen turned the leaf again, and realised.

"It's a dawn redwood leaf."

"Not everything is different. There are still - already? - redwood trees."

Xiao Xingchen hadn't really been in doubt. This was the past. And here was a redwood tree, familiar to him; some things were the same. He thought it was a comfort.

"They're all a nice, bright green, and there are still some furled up, so I think it's still early in the year," Xue Yang added. "Good, I don't want to winter here."

"You won't," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang stilled, and his smile sharpened.

"Will you give me Jiangzai back, Song-daozhang? Make it a fair fight?"

"I've killed unarmed men at your command," Song Lan said. "I don't think one more will sully my soul any deeper."

"What?" Xiao Xingchen said, and Song Lan gave him a furtive, guilty glance. "What - "

Of course. Xue Yang had raised Song Lan as a fierce corpse. He wouldn't hesitate to command Song Lan to do evil, as he'd coaxed Xiao Xingchen to do.

By time they looked away from each other, Xue Yang was gone. Song Lan glared at the empty space.

"Perhaps he'll just leave," he said. "Now you're alive, he'll soon realise what a fantasy he's been living in. I don't know. I would have thought a man like him would give up faster, every time."

"He doesn't let go of what he has," Xiao Xingchen murmured, and Song Lan frowned. Xiao Xingchen's little friend had been fiercely possessive, and it was only now he could see that what had seemed... sweet, when he took a firm grip on Xiao Xingchen's sleeve, or shared out the food with careful precision, was merely one side of an obsessive nature.

The sun was high now, but the day felt colder. They walked on in silence, and finally Xiao Xingchen said, "He made you kill his enemies?"

"No." Song Lan didn't look at him. "He killed his own enemies. I killed the people he didn't care about."

That was all Xiao Xingchen's fault. He had thought only of removing himself from the horror of the situation; of what he could not bear. And so Song Lan had to bear that intolerable burden, and who knew how many people had died under Fuxue, a sword meant to protect them? Xue Yang had perverted them both, turned them to his own foul uses, Xiao Xingchen by trickery and Song Lan by force.

They found a hollow in the rock that night, sheltered but still cool. There was no question of them both sleeping. Xue Yang could not be predicted even if the animals were giving them a wide berth. Xiao Xingchen slept from dusk until around midnight, and then he sat up feeding the fire as dawn came, readying the pot and the kettle.

Xue Yang came prowling up as they were eating; he stopped a distance away, and did not lock his qi, but called out, "How many days of rice do you have?"

"I suppose you packed for a long trip?" Song Lan said, and Xue Yang shrugged.

"Not as long as I could have. I didn't expect to be here, after all. But probably more than you. Do you need any?"

"And what do you want in return?" Song Lan looked at him with disdain, and Xue Yang sneered back.

"I brought you back from the dead, Song Lan, what will it take for you to get it into your thick head that I want you alive? Well, I'll assume you aren't starving."

"Are you eating?" Xiao Xingchen said, without really meaning to, and Xue Yang flashed a grin at him.

"I found a nest of eggs each the size of two fists," he said. "They tasted fine. I'll bring you some tomorrow, if you'll take them."

Xiao Xingchen curled his hands into fists and looked away. Xue Yang sighed. "Well, take your time."

"Xue Yang," he began, and could not continue. Xue Yang hummed encouragingly, and Xiao Xingchen shook his head.

"I'm not going to lie down and die," Xue Yang said. "And I'll defend myself from Song Zichen. Remember that."

"It seemed like you were ready to die," Song Lan said, "When Xiao Xingchen held Shuanghua to your throat."

Xue Yang giggled, sharp as shattered glass. "And it was you who gave him a reason not to kill me."

"One of many regrets I hold," Song Lan said, and he rose to his feet. Xiao Xingchen kept his breathing steady, and looked at Xue Yang's bright eyes, pictured them glazed with death, his blood staining the moss underfoot. "I can correct one, I think."

"You could correct them all, if you just listened to me," Xue Yang said, with a touch of vexation. "You talk about regrets but you don't seem to want to make any changes. Oh, of course you hate me - don't you think I hate you? - but do you hate me more than your own mistakes?"

Song Lan was still; his hand curled and uncurled around Fuxue's hilt, and then he said, "I won't listen to your lies."

"Why lie to you, Song-daozhang? The truth has always been enough." Xue Yang tipped his chin up. "And if you'd rather kill me than - "

"You can never undo the destruction you caused!" Song Lan snarled. Xue Yang was thrumming with tension, balanced on the balls of his feet. Hands empty, though anything could be in his sleeves. He had packed for this trip with who knew what horrors. "Do you intend to bring back every corpse you made, whole and happy? Do you - "

"Yes!" Xue Yang interrupted. "You don't listen! We're in Yueyang. I was trying to take us to when everyone in your stupid Temple was still alive. You hate me for my crimes; well, then, they won't be done. You can have your precious shifu back, and he'll never even know he might have died."

Song Lan sat down with a thump.

Xue Yang turned the dark glitter of his eyes onto Xiao Xingchen, who sat frozen as if by the sway of a cobra. "Won't that be better? It was years before Yi City. Your blade will be clean. You can keep your eyes on me and be sure I don't kill the innocent."

"It's a lie," Song Lan said, hoarse, and Xue Yang gave a dismissive wave, not even looking in his direction.

"Obviously it's not. I killed your temple for good reasons, but I have better ones to keep them alive now. When I wish things were different, I do something about them instead of dithering around about it."

"Am I meant to believe in your goodwill?" Song Lan said. Xue Yang shrugged.

"You've known me a while, Song Lan. How badly do you think I want to change things?" He paused, and laughed again. "All right. I'll be seeing you." He flitted away, silent on the soft ground, and he was barely out of sight before Song Lan lurched to his feet and started after him. He ran only a few steps before realising it was futile, and turned back to Xiao Xingchen with a face twisted by conflicting emotions.

They weren't going to kill Xue Yang, Xiao Xingchen knew, and he hated himself when he took a clear, deep breath without the knot in his chest impeding him at all.

*

It was impossible, Song Lan told himself, but so was the heartbeat in his chest, so was Xiao Xingchen sitting alive by the fire, so was the strange world around them.

His younger self, so confident and naive, unaware of the fate that lay ahead of him - Song Lan could barely think of that foolish child and the mistakes he was going to make. To be able to correct them -

He could go home. He could enter the temple doors and see the white floor unstained by blood, see his shifu's quiet pride, the younger disciples trying to gather unobtrusively to hear an interesting titbit. Sleep in the familiar room, rise for prayers, eat a simple breakfast in silence - all things he had never truly appreciated until they were lost to the past.

And Xue Yang thought he could just drag them up from the grave? Impossible. Intolerable.

And yet -

He breathed. His qi flowed through him. Xiao Xingchen had been remade from the shattered remnants of body and soul. Xue Yang had successfully flung them back here, bodies and souls healed. Or - not healed. But intact.

He walked back to the fire, his joints unstable. Xiao Xingchen stared blankly out at the sky until Song Lan touched his sleeve, and was instantly attended to, worry marring his serene brow. Xiao Xingchen made him more tea, which he should protest. They did not have much of it, after all, and it might be the last they would ever have.

Unless they let Xue Yang return them.

"Everything is your decision," Xiao Xinghen assured him, which was small comfort when it all seemed so unclear. "I will support you whatever you choose."

"Is it possible?" Song Lan demanded, and Xiao Xingchen shook his head, slow. Not a no. How could he know, after all? Song Lan himself had probably the most experience of what Xue Yang was capable of, and he had never imagined that Xue Yang could act on this scale. He had seen Xue Yang fail, time and again, to have any effect on the mute soul and inert body of Xiao Xingchen; had been subjected to his experiments, Xue Yang refining his work to make Song Lan the most lifelike fierce corpse imaginable, the closest mimicry of true life. Had seen him destroy Yi City and rebuild it from corpses, controlling resentful energy in ways that should have torn him apart.

Xue Yang would have done anything, stopped at nothing, to restore Xiao Xingchen in any form. For this - alive and whole - what would he not have done?

But if they allowed Xue Yang to travel to the future once more, new victims surely awaited him. And for that matter, what assurance did Song Lan had that Xue Yang would not commit his crimes over again for the sheer joy and malice of it? To murder them all again, and revel in Song Lan's foolishness -

He drank the tea, and said, "We should explore a little more. Try and find better shelter for tonight." Then, "I have questions to ask him."

"He said he'd return," Xiao Xingchen said, packing away their breakfast implements.

"Are you glad?"

"I don't know." Well, that was honest. "Surely he's lying to us? He said he didn't lie to you, but... he lied to me. Every day. He - I thought he was as dear as friend to me as - " he breathed deeply. "Forgive me. I was thoroughly fooled by him. He was so kind, and it was all a lie. He won't hesitate to deceive us to get his way."

"And yet," Song Lan said, "Here we are."

"Here we are," Xiao Xingchen agreed. He stood, shaking out his robes. "I don't trust my judgement, Song Lan. I'm sorry."

"I trust you," Song Lan said, and Xiao Xingchen's face turned to him, stricken. "I trust that every decision you made, you made out of compassion, and love."

"Perhaps it would have been better if I'd had a little less compassion and a little more judgement," Xiao Xingchen said, and he stamped out the fire.

They had gone some way before Song Lan asked, "Was he so dear to you?" and Xiao Xingchen nodded.

"I was lonely, I suppose," he said. "There was A-Qing, but she was a young girl, and her life was hard. How could I burden her with my petty troubles? And she - I dismissed her concerns about the stranger. I knew he, too, had had a hard life, but I thought. Well, I thought perhaps he was like me. A man who'd made terrible errors in judgement. Who had regrets. I tried to offer him kindness, and he gave it back to me - or so I thought. All along, he was lying to me. He used me to kill."

"All along?" Song Lan said, and Xiao Xingchen glanced at him.

"I suppose, eventually, he ran out of small households to destroy," he said. "I remember when - I was surprised. When Shuanghua detected a fierce corpse in the street. It had been so long - " he fell silent, shook his head. "He found other entertainments, I think." His face blanched even paler, whiter than bone.

How could Song Lan allow Xue Yang anywhere near Xiao Xingchen again? If they went back, they'd have to either execute him on the spot, or watch him incessantly, glorified jailers. No doubt, faced with temptation, Xue Yang would kill again. Could they weigh those lives against the ones they might restore?

"Is it even right?" he said. "To undo what has been done?"

"I have wanted nothing more," Xiao Xingchen said. "Which perhaps is a sign that it is not something we should have. Don't we bear the consequences of our own actions?"

"Don't others sometimes bear us for them?" he countered, as he had so many times in their debates, and saw Xiao Xingchen flinch so violently he stumbled. "Ah, no, I didn't mean - "

"No, no, you're right," Xiao Xingchen said quickly. "The consequences of our actions can be unpredictably wide, for good and evil, and reflect on people we have never even met; we can never know them all - " he frowned, and then said, "I should say now that undoing an action will undo all its good consequences, which we may not even know, but -"

"Should we not apply the same standard to the doing of actions to the undoing, then?" Song Lan said. His voice came out commendably level. "We would not hesitate to prevent an evil action with the thought some unknown consequences might be good." That, too, had barbs he did not intend; Xiao Xingchen had not hesitated to intervene without thought for consequences.

Xiao Xingchen said, "I suppose you are right, but it seems as though the events having already occurred make them seem more significant. Should we apply the same standard?"

"From a purely practical point of view, I don't like the idea that the right thing to do is undo the sins of the past," Song Lan said. "Where would it end?"

"To undo all the crimes of humanity? Here, probably." Xiao Xingchen shook his head. "Isn't it exciting to know we are the first people ever to cause hurt in the world?" His mouth twisted, bitterly. "Here we are in the dawn of the world, bringing all our evils with us."

"We didn't bring us here," Song Lan said. Then he said, "Perhaps we're arguing about nothing and Xue Yang can't undo what he's done."

"Perhaps," Xiao Xingchen said. "We could ask to see his notes."

"Mm." Song Lan had severe doubts about their ability to understand Xue Yang's work; he'd been watching Xue Yang work for years, and grasped very little of it. He had probably seen those notes already, and hadn't even noticed that the direction of Xue Yang's research had changed. It might be different, with his full consciousness restored to him, but he wasn't sure. "You can ask him tomorrow, perhaps."

They walked on slowly, each lost in their own thoughts. It was familiar and yet not, to walk with Xiao Xingchen at his side. For years, he had turned unthinking, expecting to see his friend and finding only emptiness. Now, whenever he glanced, he started a little as if a ghost were there. The strangeness of the world around them only added to his disjunction. He could have been convinced it was a dream, if it were not for the very real and unfamiliar demands of his body. Sweat lodged stickily under his arms, and it took him a considerable time to realise the aching discomfort in his belly meant he needed to relieve himself.

They made camp that night under a slight overhang, finding nothing better. Fortunately the night was warm. They were still in the vast basin, and Song Lan wondered if they should leave it, explore further. In search of what? It would be nice to think that Xue Yang was lying, and if they walked far enough the would see the rising smoke of cooking fires. But he couldn't fool himself.

In the morning, Xue Yang was already there when he awoke. Song Lan propped himself on his elbow and watched Xue Yang approach with a swagger, his eyes alert while his mouth smiled. He kept Song Lan in the corner of his eye even as he gave his attention to Xiao Xingchen, speaking fondly as he unloaded several huge eggs from the pouch he'd made of his skirt, like a farmwife gathering from the hens.

"I cracked them open and drank them like a snake," he said, "But I would think you could just pour them over your rice."

He began to move back again, and Xiao Xingchen put out a hand, not quite touching his hem. Xue Yang stilled, and Song Lan felt, suddenly, he had ceased to exist, that Xiao Xingchen took up all the space in the world. Xue Yang looked at him with wide eyes, and Xiao Xingchen said, halting, "Your hands. Are they - "

"They're fine," Xude Yang tucked his hands behind his back. "Superficial."

The cut on his face was a thin silver line, the one on his throat still bound up in white. Had he cut himself to draw out sympathy? Hardly beyond him. Although wounding his hands was risky -

So was giving up his sword. This close to his goal, perhaps Xue Yang was desperate.

"Tell us about your... ritual," Xiao Xingchen said, and Xue Yang brightened, eyes crinkling up. He settled down and crossed his legs, and then turned his head to watch as Song Lan sat up. Song Lan put his hands on his knees, and tried to look like a man who was alert for treachery, but not about to leap up and behead anyone. Which was probably how he'd try and look if he were actually planning to behead Xue Yang.

It was still an intense temptation, to see him right there, smiling, alive, making eyes at Xiao Xingchen while he explained daoist concepts in a way a toddler at Baixue would have found patronising.

"We know this," Song Lan interrupted. "The self exists in a sequence of moments, and the past and present exist only in our minds."

Xue Yang paused, and eyed him. "Did you read over my shoulder, Song-daozhang?" he said, eyebrow arching.

"It's a very basic daoist idea," Song Lan said. "It's integral to the idea of enlightenment."

"Really?" Xue Yang wrinkled his nose. "And here I wasted all this time figuring it out. Anyway, it was while I was thinking about - " he looked at Xiao Xingchen. "You slit your throat," he said, and Xiao Xingchen curled in on himself like a woodlouse. "And you know, the first thing I thought was I wish he hadn't done that. And I kept on and on thinking, what if he hadn't done that? And then, what if I'd done something different? Wouldn't it be great if I could just change things?"

"We know about regret, too," Song Lan said. "That's a very basic human emotion."

Xue Yang stared at him for a long moment, and then said, "Well, that seems unlikely, or why hasn't anyone done this before?" Then he frowned, and said, "Or maybe they have, and we just don't notice."

That was so disturbing a thought Song Lan spent only a second on it before setting it aside. "People don't tamper with the flow of time for the same reason they don't raise the dead," he said, and Xue Yang nodded.

"Because they're cowards," he said.

"Because it's interfering with the proper order of things."

"Oh, yesterday you didn't even believe in it, and now you've done all the philosophy and concluded it's against the order of things? All right, then, if it's a basic daoist concept that past and present are the same, why is it all right to change the future and not the past?"

Song Lan hesitated; Xue Yang lifted his chin, smug, and Song Lan said, "The difference is that we remember the past, and not the future. We can't know whether or not we change the future; we only ever know one, and for all we know that was the only future there ever was."

"Huh," Xue Yang said, and he gave Song Lan a look from his black-glass eyes, long and assessing, like he was a dog that had unexpectedly gotten on its hind legs and danced.

Xiao Xingchen cracked one of the big eggs into his bowl, and sniffed it; Xue Yang glanced at him, and said, "Want me to eat some first?"

"I'll trust that you're not trying to poison us," Xiao Xingchen said, and tipped the bowl into the pot of rice. "I suppose we might as well eat all three."

"It's what I brought them for," Xue Yang said. "Everything lays eggs round here, seems like, so there's no shortage."

Xiao Xingchen shared out rice between their bowls, and then set the pot on the ground and nudged it towards Xue Yang, who brightened at the sight of the good amount of rice still in there. He lifted the pot into his lap, and hugged it for a second. He was very pale; if he was sleeping without a fire and living off raw eggs -

Well, it was none of their concern. If he wanted to sleep by their fire under guard, he could choose that.

It was hard to see Xue Yang sit there wielding his chopsticks, eating neatly but very quickly. Song Lan kept blinking, shaking his head, as if his vision would clear and there would be no Xue Yang at all, just the blue sky and greenery and a day on the road for Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan.

Xue Yang accepted tea with a bright smile, and then looked back at Song Lan.

"Song-daozhang," he said, with a mocking lilt to his voice, and Song Lan braced himself. "You explained why we can't change the past. Not why we shouldn't."

"If we can't," Song Lan began, and realised instantly what Xue Yang's answer would be. So if I can - He started again. "Things that have happened have happened. Our minds know that. How can we live other lives remembering the first lives?"

"People's lives change all the time," Xue Yang said. "Don't tell me you never looked at your life and wondered how it had come to this." His upper lip lifted slightly, revealing his pointed canines. "You're living with the bad memories either way, aren't you?"

Song Lan looked at Xiao Xingchen, who was watching them with faint confusion in his eyes, as if he were watching the dragons again. He said, carefully, "Perhaps it's fitting we live with the consequences of our actions."

"Bullshit," Xue Yang said. "You going to tell me that, Song-daozhang? You going to sit there and tell me Xiao Xingchen bleeding out in the dirt in some shitty town that thought he was a freak was fitting? Your shifu, dying slowly - "

Song Lan was on his feet, Fuxue in his hands. Xue Yang rolled back into a crouch, pot dangling from one hand, dagger appearing in the other.

"No!" Xiao Xingchen said, and then clapped his hands over his mouth. Xue Yang's grin faltered, and then he straightened, tossing down the pot, tucking the dagger hand behind his back.

"Those things weren't some kind of consequence handed down by the universe that you have to endure as a punishment," Xue Yang said, each word dropping like a stone. "I did them, because I wanted to. Because I thought it would be fitting. Consequences are just what people do to each other when they can't be stopped. If you want to live with what I did to you because you think it's right, like I'm some kind of divine punishment instead of a man who wanted his revenge, well, I'm not going to let you." He grinned, wide, fierce. A little insane, a lot insane. Song Lan didn't move, held in guard position. He watched Xue Yang step backwards, slow and deliberate, until he was a safe distance away, and turned and broke into a trot, casting a brief, "See you soon," over his shoulder.

Song Lan watched him out of sight; knew that Xue Yang could double back and slink up to their camp any time. He was light on his feet and they could not be constantly on alert. He looked down at Xiao Xingchen, who said, "I'm sorry," without looking up.

"For what?"

"For stopping - " an airy gesture of his hand. "I didn't mean to - I meant it when I said it was your decision."

"No, you were right. It wasn't a decision, it was just impulse. If I'm going to do anything, I need it to be - I need to think it through." He sheathed Fuxue, and went to collect the pot, handling it gingerly; there was some blood on the handle, no doubt from Xue Yang reopening his wounds. Xiao Xingchen sighed when he noticed.

"For a man so determined to survive, he's careless with his wounds," he murmured, rinsing it with a little water. They would clean it properly at the stream, perhaps scrub with some sand. Song Lan did not like the idea of Xue Yang's blood tainting their food. It would not surprise him if resentment ran through his very veins.

"Should we keep circling around the basin?" Xiao Xingchen said, when they were ready to move on, and Song Lan considered.

"We haven't had much luck finding good cover," he said. "The land seems flatter to the west, out of the basin. We could go that way. It's heavily forested, though; we'll be slow."

"Well," Xiao Xingchen said, and gave him a small smile. "We're not in a hurry."

They walked on a little, until they found a crumbling part of the basin where they could climb with ease, overgrown with vines. Song Lan felt a prickle on his neck as they surveyed the thickly clustered trees, and he wasn't surprised when a voice called out to them.

"The forest is full of life, Song-daozhang, and not much room to swing a sword. Be careful, now, don't lose my daozhang."

"He's not yours," Song Lan snapped back, and got only silence in return. "I suppose this is where he's been gathering eggs," he said, and Xiao Xingchen nodded.

"Whatever laid them would, I think, be larger than a typical bird." He paused, and added, "Xue Yang had a fresh bite on his hand. I didn't get a good look, but... about the size of the average dog."

"Xue Yang's very quick on his feet," Song Lan said, and looked into the trees. "Well. I suppose if he can survive it, we can too."

Song Lan made sure there was a dagger easily accessible at his belt, and they plunged into the forest, heading as close to west as they could manage when the sky was obscured. It was dim and shady, dense with huge trees, and smelled both acrid and mellow, dank scents rising up as they stepped through the thick mulch underfoot.

"It's strange to think," Xiao Xingchen said, "That we may be the first people ever to walk here." He brushed his fingers over the corrugated bark of a tree Song Lan didn't recognise. "That this tree will die, and its seeds will root and grow and die, all before there are more people."

Song Lan, walking through town after town, farmstead after teahouse, asking again and again have you seen a white-robed cultivator had thought that he was alone in the world, untied from every bond but the one he'd severed himself and now sought to repair. Now, the polite smiles of townsfolk and willingness of farmers to pass a few minutes in conversation seemed as precious and distant as starlight.

But it was infinitely better to be here, with Xiao Xingchen, his mind his alone, than in the waking nightmare of slavery to Xue Yang.

He supposed he had Xue Yang to thank for this, too; Xue Yang to thank or curse for every development in his life since he'd set eyes on the man. If he hadn't stopped his blade then, had let it swing and slit Xue Yang's throat like a butcher with a pig -

If he could go back and undo that hesitation, he absolutely would. Xiao XIngchen would be a little surprised by his brutality; Song Lan would say he thought it necessary, and Xiao Xingchen would debate the point, but concede his right to make the decision. Xue Yang would be a footnote in their lives, a ghost story of the tragedy of the Chang clan.

Xiao Xingchen turned his head slightly, and Song Lan followed his gaze. There was a shape moving through the trees. More than one, though it was hard to be sure how many as they flickered between the thick trees like shadows from a shuttered lantern.

About thigh-high, moving fast. Pacing them; stalking them.

He wondered where Xue Yang was. Pictured him torn open on the floor, strange creatures tearing at his insides; he might once have been angry at the thought of his revenge taken from him, but now it would be a relief to have the decision taken out of his hands. To say, we'll stay, then.

Of course, it would be preferable not to be torn open themselves.

"If we don't find suitable shelter in the next few hours," Xiao Xingchen said, quiet, "We'll have to turn back."

In the world they came from, the animals were hunted; they were cleared ruthlessly from herd animals, driven back to deep forests, and even there, they knew to be cautious of humans, would not attack unless they seemed like very easy targets. These creatures - who knew? Were they cautious or bold?

There would be no tumbledown crofter's cottage to take shelter in, no farmhouse to offer them hospitality, not even an old broken-down corner of a wall to put their backs to. They could climb a tree, but what might lurk in the branches? Could the beasts climb after them? Was their night vision good, or would they retreat?

The forest changed little as they pressed on, and Song Lan wondered how far it went, if it continued til the land met the sea, just endless trees. Eventually, they turned back, still paced by flickering shadows.

Dusk came on them fast, and Song Lan said, "We should fly."

Xiao Xingchen looked at him, and then away at their silent escort. Were they closer? Song Lan drew Shuanghua, and offered it to him, and he took it in a loose hand, as if it were made of something unpleasant. He had used to wield it as if they were one. Now he stepped onto it as gingerly as if it were a mud puddle. They should have turned back earlier; Song Lan had not thought - well, he hadn't thought.

Song Lan mounted Fuxue, and they rose slowly through the canopy, which rattled with startled shrieks as various small creatures fled the disturbance. It was much lighter here, without the muffling of the trees; the sun was still sending out golden light, plenty of time to get back to the basin. They should find their last night's camp again.

There was a rush of wind, and Song Lan looked up, and then jerked his sword violently aside, swaying as his balance stuttered. A dragon - no lumbering land-bound beast, a dragon plummeted down on him, its wing catching him a blow like a mace, sending him skidding through the sky like a child on a sledge, the trees spinning below him. Xiao Xingchen cried out, and flew to intercept as he lost his balance; they crashed down through the branches together, followed by the discordant shriek of the dragon. They hit a tangle of bushes and then soft mulch, Xingchen's sword slowing their impact.

Song Lan blinked up at the patch of sky, letting light into the dimness of the forest, and then said, "Up, up quickly!" Xingchen was trying to pat him over for injuries, and Song Lan pushed him as gently as he could in a hurry. "Those pack animals, Xingchen, if they're around -"

Xiao Xingchen caught his urgency, rising with Shuanghua ready, but it seemed that their loud descent had scared off everything. The forest was silent around them as Song Lan hastily searched for Fuxue. It surged to his hand, and he sighed in relief, running his fingers down the gleaming blade, the edge un-nicked.

"Well," he said, "That could have gone better."

"That thing was enormous," Xiao Xingchen said. "I wouldn't have thought such a thing could fly, but... it had no tang at all of resentful energy. Just an animal? Or some kind of spiritual beast?"

"I have no idea. I suppose it just plummeted on me like a bird." Song Lan rolled his shoulders, and winced; he had been struck quite painfully across the back, and the landing had bruised him from shoulder to hip on one side. "So. Fly or walk?"

"Fly," Xiao Xingchen said, "At least to the basin. We can stay low, near the trees, and keep watch. We can't be very far now."

They weren't, and when they flew low into the basin and stepped down, Song Lan felt the relief at familiar ground, even after a few days of knowing it. Xiao Xingchen winced as he stepped down, and Song Lan said, "Are you injured?"

"Bruised only," he said. "I landed awkwardly. A little walking will get the blood flowing."

His limp became more pronounced as they made their way back, though, and set up their camp under the same overhang. Xiao Xingchen agreed to stay put while Song Lan collected wood; suspiciously, he found a stack of it at the treeline, and wondered just how closely Xue Yang stalked them. They would have seen him if he'd flown after them that evening. Perhaps he had remained in the basin, sure they would return.

Xiao Xingchen raised a brow at how quickly he returned, but didn't comment. He had his leg stretched out, and was massaging along the length of his thigh with his knuckles.

"Quite badly bruised," he admitted. "Perhaps we'll rest tomorrow."

"Do you need anything for it? We have some tisanes that would help with pain." He thought they did, anyway. He'd used to carry them. Xiao Xingchen shook his head.

"It's not very bad. Let's not waste our supplies. Who knows..." his voice trailed off, and he shook his head. He picked up Shuanghua, and returned it to Song Lan.

"Zichen," Xiao Xingchen murmured to him, and he uncovered his face, squinting against the blaze of the fire. "I think something's out there."

That jolted him right awake; he sat up, and said, "Xue Yang?"

"No, I don't think - I think it's animals."

Song Lan stripped off Shuanghua and its sheath, and laid it down by Xingchen's hip. The fire was burning low, but it was still bright enough that the darkness outside its ring was impenetrable. Song Lan listened, and he thought he heard rustling that was not the wind. He repositioned himself with his shoulder turned to the fire, looking out to one side of the outcropping, and Xingchen mirrored him, their backs to each other.

As his eyes adjusted, Song Lan could see movement, see the light reflecting, occasionally, from eyes.

"We could fly away," Song Lan said, and Xiao Xingchen hummed.

"I wonder what flies here at night," he said, and Song Lan looked up, half expecting to see dark wings blotting out the stars. No, then, because the sky was dangerous, and they'd land in the dark with no fire.

He reached back and tossed another piece of wood into the flames, sending them higher. The circle of light flickered outwards; he thought he saw the light shape a hunched, two-legged figure, long-tailed and large-headed, before it melted into the darkness.

Certainly not Xue Yang.

Silence fell after about an hour, but they sat on watch until the sun came up, revealing only the gentle movement of the wind in the ferns, and the distant shapes of the great beasts.

"We have to find better shelter," Xiao Xingchen said with a sigh. "Perhaps if we head back up the slopes of the mountain; it might have caves."

Xue Yang arrived as they cooked; he stopped at a distance and inspected the earth, head cocked.

"Are there tracks?" Song Lan said, and Xue Yang looked up from under his lashes, mouth curling.

"Did you make friends in the forest, Song-daozhang?" He shook his head and said, "Looks like a pack followed you home."

"We were knocked out of the sky by a dragon bigger than an ox," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang's gaze swept over them, checking for injuries. His lips thinned as he saw the way Xiao Xingchen sat, with his bruised leg extended in front of him.

"You have to be more careful," he said. "You don't have any nice farmhouse to take in the brave folk heroes, or a sect who'll give you shelter. If you get badly hurt, and those things come along - " he nodded towards the tracks. Xiao Xingchen looked away, and Xue Yang sighed. "I brought more eggs," he said, voice going softer, and he unloaded a handful of them at Xiao Xingchen's side. Smaller than the previous day's, delicate pink like seashells. "Aren't they pretty?"

Xiao Xingchen drifted his fingers over the curved shells, but didn't comment. Xue Yang watched his face intently.

"Are there any other animals you've seen we should know about?" Song Lan said, and Xue Yang gave him half a glance.

"I didn't go far into the forest," he said. "There's a flat, clearish expanse to the east of the basin - scrubland and sparse trees - and I think there are larger animals there. I saw prints. As long as my forearm, thin toes." He shrugged. "Something big. And there are some packs of things on the lower slopes of the mountains, but they're eating leaves and ferns."

Now Song Lan was looking, he could see the bite mark on Xue Yang's right hand, a deep scrape; he must have yanked it away fast. Song Lan said, "What did that?" and pointed. Xue Yang whipped his hands behind his back, and glared. "Something bit you," Song Lan prompted, and after a moment, Xue Yang giggled.

"Some of the nests are just covered up and left," he said. "Some of them aren't. It was just a little thing but the fucker jumped up three feet and latched on. Fortunately it didn't have much of a bite, I just yanked it off and threw it."

"That's not a small bite."

"They have big heads compared to their bodies, didn't you notice? Not like those giants out there with the pinheads."

"Did you clean it?" Xiao Xingchen said, not looking up, and Xue Yang's voice went soft again in return.

"Of course, dao - Xiao Xingchen. It's healing well, not warm."

Xiao Xingchen nodded, and cracked the eggs one at a time into the bowl before pouring them into the pot. Song Lan wondered how you found salt in the wild. Perhaps Xiao Xingchen knew. If they were in Yueyang, they were a long way from the sea.

What would they do if they lost the pot? They could never replace that.

He shook away the worry - they'd just have to not lose the pot - and said, "Have you seen any caves?"

"Probably your best bet," Xue Yang agreed. "No, try up the mountain a bit, there's a lot of bare rock. Be careful, you're not the only thing that wants shelter out here."

Cave bears, or some similar beast. They didn't want to fight for possession of a cave, but it might come to that.

"Where are you sleeping?" Xiao Xingchen said, pushing the pot and its remains to Xue Yang. "Are you safe?"

"Safer than you, looks like. Worry about yourself." He paused, and said, "Thought about it any more, Song-daozhang?"

Song Lan ate his rice in silence, feeling the weight of Xue Yang's gaze. Xue Yang waited with surprising patience, and finally, Song Lan said, "How do I know you won't just kill them again?"

"Travelling through time to kill people twice?" Xue Yang snorted. "Now you say it, I suppose that does sound like something I'd do." He scratched his chin contemplatively. "Imagine, Song Lan! Maybe I could travel back to before you were born, and kill your parents so you'd never exist!"

"You - " Song Lan hesitated, anger warring with curiosity. "Would that work?"

"I don't see why not."

"But I do exist."

"Maybe you'd just... stop?" Xue Yang eyed him, looking somewhat doubtful. "Just blink out of existence."

"No," Xiao Xingchen said, in sudden tones of distress, and Xue Yang patted his knee.

"It's all right, it's not going to happen, we're just talking theoretically, we're stuck with Song Zichen as long as you want him."

"But if I never existed," Song Lan said, picking his way through the logic, "Why would you travel back in time to kill my parents?"

"Oh, yeah. You know, I didn't really think about going back? To the same time, I mean. If I went back and stopped Xiao Xingchen being blind without bringing him along, everything would have happened differently so there would be no point going forward again, everything would be different, and I wouldn't know how, because it hadn't happened yet. I just figured I'd stay."

He looked at them expectantly. Xiao Xingchen looked as confused as Song Lan felt. It went against the grain to ask for further explanations, but he had to know.

"I don't understand," Song Lan said. "It makes a difference if you bring him?"

"Yeah, of course, I - I'll explain if you don't put on a snooty face and tell me it's a basic daoist concept." Xue Yang raised his eyebrows.

"So if it's a basic daoist concept you don't want me to tell you?"

"Well. If you can do it without being an asshole." Xue Yang grinned. "Anyway. Souls are unique, right? They're the basic... unit of humanity."

"That's broadly agreed upon by scholars, yes."

"They hold what makes us us. And I figured they can't be duplicated. If you put two of the same souls in one place, they'll stop being two. So if Song Lan goes back in time to when there's already a Song Lan, their souls join. We didn't physically travel, not in our flesh. Except then we did, because here we are. As far as I can tell, our souls went back to join our bodies, and then those bodies came here. I'm guessing because there weren't bodies here for our souls."

"That's how you repaired Xiao Xingchen's soul," Song Lan said. It would be impressive if it weren't horrible. "The broken parts combined with the whole."

"Right!" Xue Yang agreed. "But he's one soul not two, now, so if I took him back to Yi City, his whole soul would come along and there wouldn't be one in the past, so he wouldn't have done any of the things that meant we got to Yi City. So would we be in Yi City, or not?"

"If he hadn't done any of that you wouldn't have gone back to get him," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang shook his head.

"It would have happened but not happened. Because of the daoist moment bullshit, right? The past and future don't exist except in our head, so everyone's head can have a different past and future."

"But things are physically different because of changes in the past," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang shrugged. "Like - if you and Xiao Xingchen never do any of those things, you won't murder me, but you'll remember doing it, but I'll still be alive - "

Xiao Xingchen made a small noise of distress, and they both turned to look at him. His eyes were very wide.

"It's all right, he's fine," Xue Yang said. "Give him your wrist, Song-daozhang, let him check for himself."

Song Lan extended his arm, and after a second Xue Yang grabbed Xiao Xingchen's hand and leaned over to set his fingers against Song Lan's wrist, his own hands not quite touching. Song Lan stared down in repulsion at them, as he might at a huge spider creeping by; calloused, scarred, the fresh bite wound puffy with scabs, his fingers white with scarring where he'd grabbed Shuanghua, his half-glove ill-fitting on his left hand.

Xue Yang pulled back, tucked his hands in his lap, and gave Song Lan a narrow-eyed look. Song Lan looked away from his piercing gaze, at Xiao Xingchen, whose face was softening into relief as he felt Song Lan's pulse and qi. He didn't look back; he stared into space, as if he'd forgotten his eyes worked.

"So getting back to the question," Xue Yang said quietly, "I killed them for revenge on Xiao Xingchen and you, and I don't want that any more."

Xiao Xingchen's lips thinned, though he still stared unseeing towards the horizon. Xue Yang noticed, and his mouth tightened too. "Well," he said. "I can see you still need - "

"No," Song Lan said as Xue Yang started to shift, and Xue Yang sank back down and looked at him expectantly. "Xiao Xingchen needs to rest, but we need to find shelter."

Xue Yang said, "I know you're not asking me to stay and take care of him."

"He's not incapacitated, and he'll have Shuanghua."

Xue Yang's gaze found the sword lying next to Xiao Xingchen, and then looked at Xiao Xingchen's face, still lost in contemplation of Song Lan's energies. He looked at Song Lan, and arched an eyebrow in silent question.

They couldn't guard Xiao Xingchen every moment of the day, and perhaps - if that was what he wanted -

If it was selfish to force his soul back into his body, was it selfish to force him to stay in it?

"Xiao Xingchen," Song Lan said, and Xiao Xingchen's gaze finally lost its glossy, not-there quality and he looked at Song Lan. After a second, he withdrew his hand with an apologetic murmur. It was little relief; Song Lan did not like to be touched, but he found he did not much like it when Xiao Xingchen stopped touching him. "Will you be safe here, alone, if Xue Yang and I go scouting for shelter?"

Xiao Xingchen's eyes widened and he glanced at Xue Yang, furtive as if Xue Yang could possibly not notice. Xue Yang said, "He's safe from me, Xiao Xingchen. Will you be safe here?"

"Yes," Xiao Xingchen said, and looked again at Song Lan. "Be careful."

Xue Yang stood, and then he said, "Xiao Xingchen," and again, "Xiao Xingchen," until Xiao Xingchen finally looked up at him. "Song Lan is very valuable to me, because of you. Only because of you. You understand? He's safe from me because you're here."

Xiao Xingchen's eyes blazed, a sudden and startling animation; Song Lan had not realised quite how detached his manner had been until he saw him lit up with emotion again. "Similarly, Xue Yang," he said, clipped, "Song Lan is the only thing that holds me here. You had better not let anything happen to him." He curled his fingers round Shuanghua's hilt, and Xue Yang nodded, a downward jerk of his chin.

"If we're going to fly, I need Jiangzai," he said.

Song Lan pulled the sheathed sword from his belt, and held it for a second. It was all jagged angles, beautiful but hostile. The relief of the sheath scraped at his palms. Xue Yang watched him. He was right, of course, and it was not as if Xue Yang's sword were his deadliest weapon.

Still. He felt his belly roil as he held it out, and Xue Yang accepted it, a mockery of gravity in his face and manner. He folded it into his arms, running his fingers possessively over the hilt and sheath.

"All right," he said, brisk. "Where do you want to go? I think we should scout to the east of the mountain, well away from the forest."

"Yes," Song Lan said, and rose. He looked down at Xiao Xingchen, and said, "You have signal talismans?" Xiao Xingchen nodded.

As soon as they had walked a safe distance, he said, "Stop antagonising him. Do you think it does your case any favours?"

"Song Lan, my case is over if he dies." Xue Yang shook his head. "If antagonising him ensures he's breathing when we get back, I'll throw rocks at your stupid block head. Once I'm sure he's stable - well, then I can start making nice to him."

"Making nice," Song Lan said, disgust heavy in his tone, and Xue Yang shot him a sideways glance. He held Jiangzai in his hand, ready; he could draw quicker than Song Lan, but Song Lan was fairly sure he was safe until a decision had been reached. "You still think he can forgive you?"

"If I undo it all, why not?" Xue Yang said. "He was happy in Yi City, you know. I know you want to believe he was miserable with me - "

"I don't," Song Lan snapped. "I don't want him unhappy."

"Sure," Xue Yang said. "Well, he was happy with me, and I don't see why he can't be again, if all the stuff he hates goes away."

"He hates you," Song Lan said, and watched Xue Yang's jaw flex. "Not just the things you did. He killed himself to get away from you."

Xue Yang smiled down at the ground, and said, "Song Lan, do you really want to convince me my case is hopeless?"

Song Lan did not. He gritted his teeth, and they came to a low point in the edge of the basin, and rose up on their swords. Xue Yang was not as fast in the air as Song Lan; neither of them were very experienced in flight, but Xue Yang rarely flew if he could help it.

"We should get above the treeline," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang nodded. The trees on these slopes were sparser than the deep forest, plenty of room to move around, not hard to see through. Behind them, the basin stretched out for miles. It looked perfectly round, and Song Lan wondered again what had created it. It was a short trip across the band of trees, and they touched down amidst ferns. There was a herd of animals there, about the size of sheep, but with the rough-looking skin of crocodiles, and strange headpieces that haloed them like phoenix crowns. They barely looked up, cropping away at the ferns with single-minded interest.

"So why did you want me to come?" Xue Yang said, as they walked, and Song Lan glanced at him. "You didn't want my company, you don't want me guarding your back. You just want me where you can see me?"

"I didn't want you approaching Xiao Xingchen," Song Lan admitted, and Xue Yang snorted. "And I wanted to ask more about the - process. It seemed to upset him."

"The process," Xue Yang said under his breath. "All right, ask away."

"I don't understand how it works," he said, blunt. "Can you change the future and then go back to a different future?"

"No idea," Xue Yang said, and smiled when Song Lan gave him a dismayed look. "If the past and future are the same and the future is just unrevealed to us: yes. If the future is just a, a potential, then maybe it just wouldn't work, or would kill us all, or maybe it would just make a lot of random things happen and we'd be in a future where Nie Mingjue quit being sect leader and took up fan dancing. Might have worked out better for him."

"But if you change the past so that you never thought of time travel," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang nodded.

"But I remember it, so I could work up all the notes again if I hadn't brought them with me."

"No, but I don't understand how it could ever have happened if it doesn't happen now," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang cocked his head. "I mean, what happens if you go back in time and kill your parents so you didn't exist? Surely then you can't have come back and killed them because you won't exist to do that?"

There was a pause as Xue Yang contemplated that. Then he said, "First of all, I don't think we have enough tenses for this conversation," and Song Lan let out a noise that was distressingly close to a laugh. "Second of all, I think things keep on having happened, even if they don't go on to happen."

"So you think that if you went back in time and killed your parents, it would just be you, appearing out of nowhere with no past, doing the murder?" Song Lan said. "You'd never go back in time but still exist?"

"That seems to make sense," Xue Yang said, "But it's really just a guess, Song-daozhang. I suppose if you want we could test it, although I'd rather not do it with my own existence."

"You're not planning to keep doing this, are you?" Song Lan said, and then with sudden horror, "Is this even the first time you've tried it?"

Xue Yang laughed, and then he frowned, and then said, "You know, that's a terrifying thought. People could be doing this all the time and we wouldn't know about it. And what if we did just cease to exist when someone killed us in the past? Someone could just travel back and kill you as a baby and you'd pop right out of existence." He rubbed his chin, and said, "Maybe I should try doing that to my enemies."

"Me?" Song Lan said, trying to sound sarcastic, though his heart was in his throat. How could you stop an enemy who wasn't even in the same time as you?

"Not you, I need you for Xiao Xingchen," Xue Yang said. "He'd still remember you, and I don't think he'd believe me if I said you just happened to stop existing, would he?"

"I doubt it," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang giggled. "But - " he paused, thinking it out. "If you killed me before I existed, then - "

"Oh, Xiao Xingchen would never meet you, of course, but this Xiao Xingchen would still remember you," Xue Yang said. "I'm sure of that."

"But," Song Lan said, "If you went back to Yueyang alone, you would meet a Xiao Xingchen who didn't even remember your crimes, wouldn't you? Wouldn't that be - easier, than trying to convince him to forgive you?"

Xue Yang stopped dead, and Song Lan turned to face him; it was that, or leave him at his back. Xue Yang was frowning in concentration, attention turned inward.

"Probably," he said, slowly. "I mean - he got to like me once, he could do it again, right? Especially if he didn't have you around. But." He folded his arms, rested his scarred cheek against Jiangzai's pommel. Rubbed against it, like he had Shuanghua's blade. "He wouldn't be my Xiao Xingchen. Maybe he'd be yours, but - " he shook his head. "That one in the basin hates me right now, but he's mine. He - " He was silent for a long moment, and then said, "I'd be the only one who remembered the coffin house, then. No, it wouldn't be any good."

Song Lan stared at him as he unfolded his arms and looked up, and Xue Yang cocked an eyebrow at him. "What, Song Lan? You should be pleased, it doesn't work for me to remove you from existence. I need this Xiao Xingchen, and this Xiao Xingchen needs you. Your guarantee of safety."

"What a relief," Song Lan said, dry, and Xue Yang laughed, and started forward again, keeping his safe distance from Song Lan.

Song Lan watched him from the corner of his eye, and Xue Yang watched him, though they both tried to avoid their gazes meeting. Song Lan had thought - assumed - that Xue Yang's feelings for Xiao Xingchen were -

He'd seen Xue Yang sit with Xiao Xingchen's body for hours at a time. Whisper to it, threaten it, gather up its limp hands and hold them. Seen him slip his hand inside his robe to touch the spirit-trapping pouch, cup it protectively. Address it conversationally. Say when you're back a hundred times. He'd seen Xue Yang's obsession as bright as his swordblade, as his smile.

It was selfish, and ruthless, and so Song Lan refused to consider it anything like love, anything like the feelings a decent person might hold. And yet - it seemed that whether or not he called it love, it was a real feeling creeping through Xue Yang's monstrous nature. Xiao Xingchen had managed to coax life on that barren ground; twisted and toxic, but green and alive nonetheless.

Maybe he'd be yours, but no, this Xiao Xingchen was Song Lan's. That Xiao Xingchen belonged to a Song Lan who didn't exist any more, as naive and innocently arrogant as he was. It was nice to imagine a Xiao Xingchen who he hadn't wounded, but what he wanted was one who had healed and forgiven him.

As Xue Yang did, he realised with a curl of sour amusement. He looked at Xue Yang, who turned his head in time, like they were joined by a string.

"I'm going to fly up and see if any caves are visible," he said. "Keep looking, I'll be back soon."

"Keep checking upwards, I'm not carrying you back if you get knocked out of the sky."

"You'll have to," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang laughed at him. He mounted Fuxue and spiraled up, looking about him for shadows on the rocks. Even a deep crevice would do; they could rig up an overhead shelter, but they needed a way to stop animals coming at them. At least they seemed to be afraid of fire. He glanced upwards again, but the skies were empty; distantly, he could see a few circling creatures, but they were far away, he thought. It was hard to estimate when he wasn't sure how big they were.

The terrain got rougher ahead, the rocks forming hollows and sharp drops; more likely to have something cave-like, Song Lan thought. He found Xue Yang's small form picking its way across the rocks, and swooped down on him. Xue Yang dodged in close to the cliff, eyeing him with suspicion as if Song Lan couldn't land a sword safely.

"Promising up ahead," he said, and Xue Yang said, "Saw something in the trees, about my height."

Song Lan looked downslope. Nothing was stirring now, and he said, "Well, let's go on. If we find a cave we can explore around it, but there's no point going looking for trouble."

"Hm," Xue Yang said, and grinned at him. "Well, maybe you're right."

They walked on, slower as the ground became uneven. The grey rock was splashed with lichen and small, clingy plants, though there were none of the little mountain flowers Song Lan would have expected. Xue Yang slid up and down the slopes, darted about like a dragonfly, one eye always on Song Lan.

They found a deep fold of rock that wasn't quite a cave; too open, and there was a puddle of stagnant water in the back.

"Better than what you've got," Xue Yang said, "But there's got to be something better."

It took them most of the day to find something suitable. The sun was turning late afternoon gold by the time they found a grotto just tall enough for Song Lan to stand upright, small enough a fire would cast a bright light over the whole entrance. There were several other small caves nearby, one with a stream flowing out of it; another, higher up the slope, had old bones in it, a skull shaped like no animal Song Lan had ever seen, the upper jaw like a beak and a high crest like a guan above the brow. Nothing living was there now, but Song Lan didn't like the idea of living in an animal den.

"The one below will do well," Song Lan said. "Will you stay here and gather firewood if I go and fetch Xiao Xingchen?"

"Sure," Xue Yang said. "Will you be able to find it from the sky?"

That was a fair question; he didn't usually have to find random spots in the wilderness, and there weren't really landmarks. He flew up slowly, marking the position of the treeline, the angle of the mountain peaks, and then flew off. They'd have to find some way to mark it, if they were to be using it as their new... base.

Home didn't seem the right word. He hadn't had a home since Xue Yang destroyed his.

Xiao Xingchen sat where he had left him; he swooped in, and Xiao Xingchen looked up, and then jumped to his feet.

"Zichen!" he said, voice cracking, and Song Lan hurried to his side. Xiao Xingchen grabbed his sleeve, careless of Song Lan's startled flinch. "What did you - what - "

"We found a cave," Song Lan said. "Xiao Xingchen, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"No, you - " Xiao Xingchen flushed, suddenly, his voice dropping from its pitch of alarm. "You didn't - "

"Didn't - "

"Xue Yang," Xiao Xingchen said, quietly. "He's still alive?"

Song Lan's lips parted but no words came out. He looked at Xiao Xingchen's panicked face, shifting now into embarrassment as he realised no, Song Lan hadn't - executed Xue Yang.

Though who could blame him if he had? Not Xiao Xingchen, who had assured him it was Song Lan's decision.

"I'm sorry," Xiao Xingchen said, and he let of Song Lan's sleeve with a startled look, as if he'd just realised he was holding it. "I was just - I saw you coming back alone - "

"He's collecting firewood, or should be," Song Lan said.

"Oh. I - " Xiao Xingchen gestured behind him, were there was a bundle of firewood. He managed a weak smile at Song Lan's look of disapproval.

"I went for a few short walks, to help my circulation," he said. "I feel much better; the swelling is gone. I didn't see any of those animals from last night, though a few small creatures passed me by."

Xiao Xingchen was a strong cultivator, and his injury was not severe; there was no reason he shouldn't have moved around, and for that matter, there was no reason to think he was safer here than anywhere else.

Shuanghua still lay on the ground. Song Lan wasn't sure if it had moved since he had set it down this morning, and he didn't like to ask.

"Are you well enough to fly?" he asked. "I'll take the firewood in case it affects your balance."

"Thank you. Yes, I can fly."

Later, tucked safely behind a fire in their cave, Xue Yang vanished away into the night, Xiao Xingchen setting his blanket out for sleep, he said, "I'm sorry, Zichen. I shouldn't have assumed - well, it would be understandable. I would have understood."

"You thought I took him off alone to kill him where you wouldn't interfere," Song Lan said, and Xiao Xingchen sighed.

"It would be understandable," he said again. "I trust your judgement."

"And I trust yours. I'd talk to you about it first," Song Lan said. It was true; he didn't like the idea of shocking Xiao Xingchen, not while he was still so - fragile, and it was not as if Song Lan had made much better choices with his life. "Xue Yang was - surprisingly unprovoking. I had wondered how he could pass as a - as a person, but he seemed..." Not normal with his sharp mind and sharper words, but just a person.

"Don't be fooled," Xiao Xingchen said, his voice dreary. "He fooled me for years, but it was all an act, wasn't it? Whatever he wants, he's pretending to be nice to get it. Maybe just to get back; maybe he needs us for the ritual, somehow."

Song Lan stared into the fire. He struggled with himself, and finally said, "You were dead for at least seven years," and didn't look round at Xiao Xingchen's sharp intake of breath.

He could not expect Xiao Xingchen to make wise decisions if he did not have the correct information, and Song Lan would not be the man to hide the truth from him.

"Xue Yang spent that whole time searching for a way to bring you back. He preserved your body perfectly with arrays and qi infusions. He carried your soul fragments - " next to his heart"- on his person at all times. I don't say that what he feels is - " he shook his head. "It's unpleasant, it's twisted, selfish. But his feelings are not a performance. Who was he acting for, all those years? Me? I was barely conscious."

"Ah, Zichen," Xiao Xingchen said. "It must have been so painful for you, and here I am -

"I didn't mean," Song Lan began, and then sighed. "It was terrible, yes. Xue Yang was - is - terrible. And a liar, of course, a killer, capable of any crime. All I am saying is that he is - that he's just a man, after all. Not some demonic being."

Xingchen was quiet long enough that Song Lan thought he'd fallen asleep. Then he said, "I'm sorry, Zichen. I know this must be very hard on you, and here I am - "

"Don't apologise," Song Lan interrupted him. "It's hard on both of us. Let's not try and rank our sufferings."

"You're right, of course," Xingchen said, and then he did go to sleep, and Song Lan sat in silence, feeding the fire in between bouts of light meditation, some part of his attention always on the cave mouth, where Xue Yang or strange beasts could be watching them from the dark.

*

Xue Yang thudded down out of his tree in the grey dawn, shivering violently. He jogged around to get himself warmer, flexing his stiff hands. Then he brushed down his outer robe and tidied his hair with his comb by feel, and set out for the stream to clean his face and hands with chill water, freezing himself again.

If it were just Xiao Xingchen, he might have let himself be scruffy, but there was no way he would appear at a disadvantage before Song Lan. It was bad enough he had to be polite in the face of his sneers and insults; he had regretted, at times, cutting out the man's tongue, but now he understood anew why he'd done it.

It was too bad one couldn't cut the insults out of a tongue and leave the interesting parts behind. Song Lan was almost intelligent when he forgot to hold his grievances. Xue Yang had missed having someone to talk his plans over with, and he didn't want to risk shocking or upsetting Xiao Xingchen when he was still fragile.

He gathered eggs - the pretty pink ones seemed to have neglectful parents, the eggs hidden under a little mound of dirt but otherwise unattended - and made his way up to the cave. Xiao Xingchen sat to the front, watching the sun rise, face pensive. Xue Yang watched him for a little while. He was not, quite, Xue Yang's daozhang. Xue Yang missed his blindness, just a little, the way he would tilt his head to listen, the way he moved with careful deliberation. The way he would let Xue Yang steer him about with perfect trust, occasionally putting out a hand to search for him, a tiny smile lighting his face when he made contact.

And of course, he missed the way Xiao Xingchen would smile at the sound of his voice, lean into him, hang on his words, take his arm on walks even though he could manage quite well without it.

Well; Xiao Xingchen preferred not being blind, so he could have that, and as for the rest, perhaps it would come in time. He stepped forward, and watched Xiao Xingchen's expression twist through moods before settling into a calm façade.

"Are you late or am I early?" Xue Yang said, setting down the eggs. "Do you want me to go wash the rice?"

"I can," Xiao Xingchen said, and then glanced back towards the bundle of blanket that was Song Lan, and visibly changed his mind. "That would be kind of you, thank you."

Song Lan was sitting up when he got back, still half-wrapped in his blanket, staring at the kettle as if willing it to boil faster. How much tea did they have? Xue Yang hadn't brought any of that. He'd prepared to spend time on the run, avoiding the Wen, maybe even avoiding the pair of them for a time while they got things hashed out. This was not what he had planned for.

He hadn't seen a single bee, so perhaps there wasn't even honey here. When the rice ran out, they'd be living on eggs and whatever else they could hunt or forage. He hadn't seen any fruit growing, though perhaps it was the wrong time of year. Xiao Xingchen had been reasonably skilled at foraging in Yi City, supplementing their meagre diet with various roots and herbs gathered in the woods, but everything was different here. They'd have to start from scratch.

Getting murdered by Song Lan was probably the easier option, but dying was often the easier option, and Xue Yang hadn't picked it yet.

Surely they would soon decide that restoring Song Lan's stupid temple to life was the right thing to do, and he could start work on their return without constantly looking over his shoulder to see if he was going to get stabbed.

Xiao Xingchen poured him tea and passed it to him as if he had a right to be there, which he thought was progress.

He ate the tedious rice and egg, curled around the pot to steal its warmth, and when he was done, said, "So do you want me to start on getting us back, or not?"

He had Jiangzai, he was fed and warm. If there was going to be a fight, it might as well be now. He had a powder close to hand, but was reluctant to use it; it caused disorientation, which would have been fine normally, but not in a strange wilderness surrounded by weird, aggressive animals. If he used it he'd have to babysit them until it wore off, which was very much not the point of using it in the first place.

Keeping people alive was surprisingly tough. Killing them was much simpler.

Xiao Xingchen looked at Song Lan, who looked sort of constipated, as usual. "It's your decision," Xiao Xingchen said, and Xue Yang bit his tongue on arguments. Surely Song Lan -

"It's our decision," Song Lan said, right on cue. "I trust your judgement, Xiao Xingchen."

"You shouldn't."

And they went round in circles about that for a bit, and then Xiao Xingchen said, "Will it even work, really?" and Xue Yang could make his case. Xiao Xingchen kept looking at Song Lan for confirmation, which was deeply annoying, but it was some consolation to hear Song Lan reluctantly saying, "That does make sense," or "It does seem logical," and once, "Yes, I think Xue Yang's right." The face he made at the last was hilarious.

"And how do we know we can trust you?" Xiao Xingchen said, turning to Xue Yang, and Xue Yang blinked at him.

"What do you mean?"

"How do we know you won't betray us as soon as you find it amusing? Trick us into doing terrible things? Murder our loved ones all over again? Are we supposed to take your word for it?"

Xiao Xingchen had beautiful eyes, of course, but Xue Yang had never really liked the way they looked while he talked to Xue Yang. They were unpleasantly judgmental in a way the blind Xiao Xingchen had never been. It would be nice - and offer an easy solution - if the judgement came along with the eyes, but Xue Yang knew the truth too deeply to pretend. The judgement came with Xue Yang.

"You can't know that," Xue Yang said. "Obviously. You know I can do it. You know I'm willing to do it if I want to. But I don't want to. I did it once, and now I'm trying to undo it, because it - well, it didn't work out, did it? I want you alive, and me alive, and while Song Lan's a pain in my ass, I don't mind if he lives if he's not going to try and murder me." Song Lan let out a scornful noise, and Xue Yang added, generously, "I'll even let him be a bitch to me, though I think it's unfair if I bring back his temple."

"You can't undo the years I spent enslaved to you," Song Lan snapped, which wasn't quite true, but before Xue Yang could set that out, he said, "I still remember what I experienced, so it doesn't matter if it really happened! We both remember what you did to me."

Xue Yang said, "I mean, if it didn't really happen, isn't it just the same as if you dreamed it? Hardly fair to blame me." It was a good try, but Song Lan didn't even dignify it with a reply; he folded his arms and glared. "All right, then, what should I do about it?"

Some uncertainty came into Song Lan's self-righteous expression. He glanced at Xiao Xingchen, who was looking into his empty cup and didn't notice. Xue Yang pressed the issue. "You want to know how you can trust me, well, what would you accept as a reason? I've already gone to considerable effort to undo my crimes."

"For your own benefit," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang shrugged. "You're not undoing it because you're a better person, you're just trying to get what you want."

"Isn't wanting better things the mark of a better person?" Xue Yang said, and Song Lan frowned at him. "I mean, come on, surely wanting someone alive is better than wanting them dead. If you go around wanting justice, it's better than wanting revenge, right?" He would have countered that the difference between justice and revenge was just that you called one better, so the logic was circular, but Song Lan's nose scrunched a little, like he was thinking it over.

"But you want them for selfish reasons," he said.

"If you kill someone for a good reason they're just as dead," Xue Yang says. "If I bring you back from the dead because it makes Xiao Xingchen happy, and that makes me happy, you're just as alive, aren't you? Or are you saying that a bad person can never do anything good because their intentions are always bad?"

Song Lan opened his mouth, clearly ready to snap back, but Xue Yang saw the moment the logical consequence hit him; could a good person not do bad things? He closed his mouth, and glared at Xue Yang.

"I think," Xiao Xingchen said, quietly, without looking up, "That it is less important to determine if your actions are good or bad by some cosmic standard, than to try and judge what you will do in the future."

"Yes, that," Song Lan said. "Just because some good things result from your selfish actions doesn't mean that your future selfish actions will end well."

The obvious answer to that was that unselfish actions had ended disastrously for Xiao Xingchen, but that would hurt Xiao Xingchen, and would also invite the observation that Xue Yang had been a significant factor there, which would lead to Xue Yang pointing out that Song Lan and A-Qing's good intentions had also played their part, and it would get loud and messy again.

So he said, "Well, I want Xiao Xingchen alive, happy, and well-disposed towards me. I've spent years working on it, I've brought back the dead and reversed the flow of time. I'll undo my revenge and let Song Lan hang around and talk to me like a dog. I'm committed. I don't see what more I can do. What, you want me to plead that I'm a good person now? You wouldn't believe me if I were." He paused, considering. Song Lan was thinking deeply, Xiao Xingchen still contemplating the cup, turning it in his hands. "You know," he said, and his heart fluttered uneasily. "It doesn't have to be me, if that's easier."

"What?" That got Xiao Xingchen's attention. He looked at Xue Yang with a faint frown. Xue Yang knew what his smooth skin felt like under his fingers, had smoothed that line away and said, don't pout, daozhang, to make his worries disperse. It had been very easy, then, to make Xiao Xingchen smile.

"I can disguise myself. I could put on a new face, use a new name, you could pretend - "

"No," Xiao Xingchen said, his lovely voice turning harsh. "Don't deceive me."

"That's why I asked," Xue Yang said. The discomfort settled. He didn't, really, want Xiao Xingchen to pretend. It had been funny once, but that had been a long time ago. He wasn't quite sure he would rather feel Xiao Xingchen's distrust and dislike than his affection for a lie, but he was glad Xiao Xingchen had ruled it out so firmly. "So what will convince you I mean what I say?"

"I'm not sure anything can," Xiao Xingchen said, and Xue Yang kept his smile with an effort. Not a surprise; but still, he didn't like hearing it.

"Well," he said. "Think it over." He started to get up, and Song Lan said, "Wait. You can help us set up a camp here."

Xue Yang raised an eyebrow at Xiao Xingchen, who looked at Song Lan with his frown deepening. Song Lan said, "He might as well be useful while we're considering it. He said that designing the new array would take time, so we should make our camp safer."

"I'm extremely useful," Xue Yang said, "You wouldn't believe the people I've been useful to in my time, Song-daozhang. I worked for the Chief Cultivator, you know." He grinned, toothy, and Song Lan looked up as if seeking suppport from the heavens. "What do you want?"

"More wood," Song Lan said, "And I want to build some kind of barrier for the cave mouth; I'm not sure what. Something to stop animals wandering in. I don't think we can build anything that would withstand an assault, but -" he shook his head. "Nothing's attacked us yet, but nothing here has learned to be wary of humans."

"Yeah, I don't know." Xue Yang looked assessingly at the cave. It wasn't big, but how did you even build a wall? He'd patched the walls of their coffin house, filled in gaps where the wind came through, but he'd never had to build anything. You needed tools, and things. "What did you have in mind?"

Song Lan didn't seem to have thought of anything. He looked at the cave mouth, and said, "Maybe logs? We could sink the ends into the ground."

"Do you have an axe? A shovel?"

"Yes," Xiao Xingchen said, to his mild surprise. "We have a small shovel for the latrine, and a hatchet for collecting wood. They were never intended for building works, though."

They were barely more than toys, when Xiao Xingchen dug them out of his qiankun pouch. Xue Yang grimaced at the thought of trying to hack down a tree with the little hatchet, which was suitable for lopping off thin tree limbs.

"I take it you don't have any tools," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang shrugged.

"Not this sort. I've got my... surgical kit." A euphemism that deceived no one, by the expressions. "Either of you ever built anything?"

"Yes," Xiao Xingchen said, while Song Lan shook his head. "Not like this, though. On the mountain, we had very simple homes, built from sod and woven bamboo."

"Haven't seen any bamboo, but I don't see why we couldn't weave thin saplings," Xue Yang said. "Not like we have anything to fit the wood together."

"You don't have any nails?" Song Lan said, dry as dust, and Xue Yang decided to ignore that one. Xiao Xingchen looked between them, frowning.

"Well, it all takes wood," Xue Yang said, standing. "Guess I'll start collecting."

They didn't stop him this time, turned to each other and began talking quietly as Xue Yang walked away. There was plenty of fallen wood, and he carried it in bundles to the treeline, idly turning over ideas in his head to soften Xiao Xingchen up. The bribe of Baixue Temple seemed to be keeping Song Lan neutral for now; he wasn't looking openly murderous most of the time.

And Xiao Xingchen had given him permission, basically, to kill Xue Yang - Xue Yang bared his teeth at nothing - and Song Lan hadn't tried, so presumably he was leaning towards travelling back. Once back on familiar ground, Xue Yang would have more resources available to him, safe boltholes, and the two of them would settle into a new reality where Xue Yang's crimes had never occurred. How could Xiao Xingchen not soften towards him, with all the effort he had made to restore the life Xiao Xingchen had loved, with his victims alive and well? Xue Yang could be patient when it was necessary. Xiao Xingchen would come round in time.

He heard Xiao Xingchen's light step, and turned, arms full of branches. He wasn't carrying Shuanghua, and Xue Yang wasn't sure how he felt about that, if it was safer or not.

"How are your hands?" he said, and Xue Yang shifted his armful so his hands sank into the branches, barely visible. "I wish you'd let me..."

"They're fine, Xiao Xingchen. You worry too much. I kept them clean and my fingers are all healed, and the bite's scabbed up fine."

Xiao Xingchen just stood there, staring at him. Xue Yang's heart thudded, though Xiao Xingchen wasn't armed and didn't even seem tense.

He could drop the branches and step forward, touch Xiao Xingchen's throat. Feel the lovely intact line of his throat, blood beating like wings under the surface. But Xiao Xingchen would probably object. He didn't even let Xue Yang call him daozhang any more. In Yi City he'd let his little friend touch him whenever and however he liked, but now, here, with Xue Yang -

"Here, take the wood back, I'll get more," he said, and shoved the bundle into Xiao Xingchen's arms. He took it, but didn't turn away.

"You don't have anything to say to me?" Xiao Xingchen said, and Xue Yang shrugged. He'd said enough. He didn't want to come over too desperate, or make him suspicious. Xiao Xingchen didn't have the best record of believing him when he was telling the truth, after all.

"If you've got any questions I'll answer them," he said, leading the way through the trees, looking for more fallen branches, kicking them up into his arms. All firewood; none of this was really suitable for building. How much time did Song Lan intend to waste building a shack?

"Did you plan for me to find you?" Xiao Xingchen said, and Xue Yang almost dropped his branches.

"No," he said, after resettling them. "I almost died and I ended up where I fell while getting away. I got the shit beaten out of me a couple of times in a couple of days, and I just... ran out of energy." An ignominious death that would have been, bleeding out in the dirt just like he almost had at seven. If he were the sort of man who believed in fate he might believe that fate had been lying in wait for him. He'd cheated it again, if so. "You just had real shitty luck, Xiao Xingchen."

"Yes," Xiao Xingchen agreed. "And so you decided to destroy me, again."

"That's right." He added the new armful of branches to Xiao Xingchen's stack, and tied his dangling sleeves around them so they wouldn't slip. "Take these back, would you?"

"Why?" Xiao Xingchen said. "Why did you do that to someone who had saved your life? Why not just walk away?"

"I was still angry that you tried to kill me, obviously," Xue Yang said. "You're still mad about dying even though I brought you back, so you should get that."

And Xue Yang hadn't even killed him, absolutely hadn't wanted him dead. Unlike Xiao Xingchen, who'd spoken of justice and meant kill him. Hadn't even had the conviction to do it himself. He thought about saying that, but - Xiao Xingchen was still fragile. He was looking baffled now.

"I didn't try to kill you," he said. "You murdered fifty innocent people! All I did - "

"You tried to have me killed," Xue Yang said, flat. "I'm not going to do anything about it now, Xiao Xingchen, but don't try and tell me that's not what happened. You caught me, tied me up, and shipped me off for execution. It was close, you know?" He'd seen Baxia's gleaming edge fog a little under his breath as he laughed. "Bad time for you to start believing in the justice of the great sects."

"I couldn't just let you keep killing people," Xiao Xingchen said, and Xue Yang shrugged.

"Sure you could. I almost killed you. If Song Zichen hadn't shown up when he did, you would have been toast." Xue Yang considered that. "Then I'd probably have died in that ditch. Funny how things work out."

"If I almost killed you, and you almost killed me, doesn't it balance out?" Xiao Xingchen said, and Xue Yang laughed.

"Xiao Xingchen, I could say that you started it, and I only tried to run away from you until I was tied down, but the truth is I don't care about balance or fairness or justice. I care about myself, and the people who fuck with me. The Chang clan fucked with me. You fucked with me. Left me for dead and swanned on with your nice, shiny life. No. Fuck you. You wanted to get involved, well, you were involved."

Xue Yang bit down on his tongue, stilling the flow of words. He surveyed Xiao Xingchen's face; no tears, no tremble around his soft mouth. He looked composed, calm. All right, then. Xue Yang turned away, and after a short time Xiao Xingchen said, "You don't sound like you've forgiven me."

"I don't know what people mean when they talk about forgiveness," Xue Yang said, not looking around. "I think it's a lie."

"So you still want revenge on me?"

"Oh, is that what you're getting at? No. I haven't forgiven you, but I don't want revenge. It's not like you're sorry for it, are you?" He looked around to check. Xiao Xingchen's lips were pursed up in that near unbearable prissy look he got sometimes, when the world and its people were disappointing him terribly. "No, of course not. You trying to kill me was justice. Me killing people is just murder. Funny how that works."

"Do you really see no difference?"

"I see the difference. It's a lot of yapping about justice and authority and rights, like the great sects don't wipe out entire clans when they feel like it. If you're important enough, powerful enough, your revenge is called justice. Well, I was never important enough to get justice, so I took revenge, and you know what? It felt good."

"Did it feel good when I died?" Xiao Xingchen said, in that same calm voice. Xue Yang threw the branch he was holding. It was light, and didn't make a very satisfactory noise when it hit the tree trunk.

"No," he said. "It didn't feel good at all. Second worst I ever felt in my life."

"Second?"

"Finger," Xue Yang said, and bared his teeth. "Anyway. I tried to... undo it. And here we are. I fucked up and I fixed it, mostly. If you let me finish fixing it - "

"You think bringing me back fixes it?"

"Bringing you back, bringing Song Zichen back, bringing his temple back, your eyes, his tongue..." Xue Yang considered. "What else do you want, dao- Xiao Xingchen?"

"I'd like it if my dear friend hadn't betrayed me," Xiao Xingchen said, and Xue Yang sighed.

"The people you killed will be back."

"But you," Xiao Xingchen said, "You're the same person who took my hand and led me to a house of tormented, wounded people, and urged me to kill them. Let them die begging for their lives. Soiled my soul, my blade. You can bring them all back, but you did that to me. You made me kill - " he swallowed, and Xue Yang gave him a sharp look. He didn't like the tremor in Xiao Xingchen's voice.

"Let's just both go back to the cave," he said. "Song Zichen's probably... digging a hole, or whatever. We should check on him."

"How can I trust you again, Xue Yang?"

"I don't know. Why did you trust me in the first place? I was a stranger, a cultivator, and you were blind. I could have stolen everything you had, hurt you - murdered you. You had to know all that, even if you couldn't know that I could do what I'd do. Stupid." He shrugged, and stepped in close; Xiao Xingchen took a step back, and then frowned. "Turn around, Xiao Xingchen, the cave is that way."

Xiao Xingchen turned, and Xue Yang wondered at him; how can I trust you in one breath, and turning his back to Xue Yang the next. Had he forgotten Xue Yang had Jiangzai? Song Lan wouldn't have dreamed of it. When they came into view of the cave, he looked up at them and frowned with clear dismay. Xue Yang frowned back at him, and tilted his head towards Xiao Xingchen in a way he hoped conveyed meaning. The whole point of Song Lan was keeping Xiao Xingchen happy. If he couldn't, then -

Well, Xue Yang still couldn't kill him, but maybe he could arrange some sort of unfortunate dragon incident. If a completely deniable accident happened to Song Lan, Xiao Xingchen might be more inclined to cling to Xue Yang.

Or he might just blame Xue Yang for the whole sorry mess. Or himself. No, Song Lan was going to have to get his act together and start being a little more supportive.

Song Lan untied the knot in Xiao Xingchen's sleeves, and started talking to him about his plans to build a fortification or whatever, and Xue Yang slipped silently away.

He found another nest of eggs, and cracked one into his palm for a sniff before drinking it in a gulp, and finishing off the the other half-dozen. He wasn't hungry, really, but he didn't like the uncertainty of it. Even in Yi City, where the food supplies had been slim, at a pinch he could have flown out and robbed a farmhouse somewhere. He'd had options. Here, there was just whatever he could scrape out of the landscape.

At least Xiao Xingchen was still too kindhearted to let him go hungry, but the converse of that was that he needed to keep them alive, too, and when their rice ran out he'd have to hand over the sack in his qiankun pouch.

Had Song Lan ever had to dig around in the dirt for roots to boil? Probably not. Those daoist temples were all fat with stolen wealth, clawing money for prayers and services out of the commoners. Song Lan talked a good game about not liking the way the sects exploited the people, but his sword was fine quality.

He found a stream and dangled his hands in it for a bit, stripping off his gloves and soaking his cuts and abrasions. He stretched out his fingers and curled them in, contemplative, as they turned numb with cold. As long as he could really remember, his left hand had pained him; something he'd learned to ignore or work through. Now, watching them move underwater, they both felt the same.

The cuts were just silver scars now. Shuanghua's sharp edge hadn't bitten so deep. Perhaps it knew him, after all these years - but it hadn't hesitated to bloody itself on Xiao Xingchen's throat.

He shuddered, and took his hands out of the water, dried them thoroughly on his inner robe before putting his glove back on. He'd go down the slope a little, search for something interesting to show Xiao Xingchen. Hopefully Song Lan would have calmed him down by talking about boring shit by then.

The landscape was full of life, though it was a little less noisy wherever he walked. Not unusual for things to be wary of him. He inspected trees - treelike - and bushes, which had curled leaves and pliable branches. It was subtly different to the places he'd passed through before, alone or with Xiao Xingchen. Different smells, different sounds underfoot, the birds - or whatever - different sounding.

He heard a crunching noise and drifted towards it, making his step light, but by the time he saw the beast, it had already detected him, head peering about. It was almost as tall as him, balanced on two powerful legs, long tail sweeping out behind it. Scaly, like a lizard, a rippled pattern like his green-gold brocade. It inspected him, and then turned back to the tree it stood by, pulling down a clump of leaves with its long tongue. Crunch, crunch. Xue Yang thought it probably wouldn't be too hard to kill; its skin looked tough, but his sword was sharp. A sprint, a leap, and he could strike down at the base of the neck.

But was big, and in this weather the meat would turn bad fast. Xiao Xingchen would probably chide him for wastefulness. He'd have to keep an eye out for something smaller. He gave the thing a politely wide berth, its head swiveling to watch him go; there were more beyond it, all crunching away.

Something had to be eating them. There were no fat, happy herds of man or beast without predators lurking nearby. Song Lan's fixation on walls might not be so foolish. Though no wall they could build would last long against one of those creatures; the legs would kick harder than a mule, and there were hooked claws on them.

He finally found a suitable prize under a tree. Some small carnage had taken place, with scraps of flesh lying about, but importantly, there were feathers, as long as his fingers, dark blue with flashes of azure when turned to the light. He tucked them away, and set his way back to the cave, alert for rustling that might mean something was stalking him. Who knew what might see him as a strange, tailless leaf-eater, an easy target?

He brought up another stack of wood, and paused to look at the two of them, moving round their shitty little campsite. The fire was built ready, and they'd surrounded it with flat rocks. Trenches dug either side of the cave mouth; looked like they were going to try for some kind of porch. Not the worst idea. He and Xingchen had some roof experience, at least.

He strolled up and dumped his wood on the pile, ignored Song Lan's look, and said, "Look, Xiao Xingchen," and pulled out the feathers. Xiao Xingchen looked at him with a puzzled air, and Xue Yang leaned over to brush them over his cheekbone, keeping a weather eye out as Song Lan's hand twitched upwards and then back down into his lap. "Feathers. From birds, I expect."

"Oh," Xiao Xingchen's expression lit with interest, and he took the feathers from Xue Yang's hand, held them up to the fading light. "We haven't seen many birds, not… what I would usually consider birds. They look more like bats, mostly. I wonder what this one is like?"

"I hope they're not as big as the dragon," Song Lan muttered. "That thing was the size of a horse."

"Well, that one probably wasn't, it was down in the trees. I would have seen a horse-sized bird nest. Would've checked it for eggs." Xiao Xingchen smiled at that, which was nice. "I bet the things down on the plain lay eggs as big as my head."

"You think they lay eggs?" Song Lan said, and Xue Yang shrugged. "I thought... like elephants. Calves."

"I've never seen an elephant," Xue Yang said with sudden interest, and was promptly disappointed as Song Lan explained he'd seen them in books.

"I thought the descriptions were exaggerations, that an animal wouldn't grow so big, but - " he shrugged.

"They're so big," Xue Yang said. "I expect if they were still around people would be using them as siege engines. Can you imagine a troop of them charging up? Do you think they can charge? They barely move."

"I wouldn't want to bet they don't," Song Lan said, dryly, and Xue Yang laughed at him. "Feel free to go find out." Xue Yang stuck his tongue out and Song Lan very nearly smiled; his eyes creased at the edges, but then he frowned and looked away.

Xiao Xingchen was smiling, slightly, looking almost as he did when Xue Yang used to bicker with A-Qing. A-Qing at least pretended to be blind, so she couldn't say anything if he stared at Xiao Xingchen, or shuffled over to lean against him, citing the cold weather. Song Lan wouldn't pretend to be blind, and no doubt Xiao Xingchen wouldn't risk offending his judgmental eyes even if he did want Xue Yang to touch him.

It wasn't necessary to touch Xiao Xingchen to coax him into a better mood, but it was Xue Yang's favourite way. He perked up so nicely just from having his hand held or hair stroked. A stolen kiss would have him pink and smiling for the rest of the day.

But he couldn't touch, and so he kept his hands to himself until he grew itchy with the need to move, and then he said, "See you tomorrow," and stood up.

"Xue Yang," Xiao Xingchen said, "I wish you'd stay close. It's not safe out there."

"It's not safe here," he said. "Don't even try; you wouldn't stop Song Lan from killing me."

"I wouldn't kill you in your sleep," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang snorted.

"You're an idiot, then. What if you tried and failed, again?"

Probably, he decided too late, a bad idea to persuade Song Lan around to murder, and a bad idea to remind Xiao Xingchen of their previous squabbles. Xiao Xingchen didn't try to stop him leaving again, at least, and Xue Yang went to his preferred tree, which had a nice hollow in the crook of the branches which he had lined with a patch of turf and was gradually piling crinkly brown fern fronds into. He'd arranged a few broken-off limbs for cover, so he wasn't easily visible from without, and curled up inside he felt safe enough to sleep.

It was funny that for the last few years, he'd felt safest with Song Lan standing guard over him, and before that packed into the bed with Xiao Xingchen pressed close, but now he was hiding from them. Ironic, maybe. No more ironic than being saved from death by the man who sent you to it, he supposed. Life could be very surprising.

He woke unpleasantly damp, more so than usual, and found there was a gentle patter of rain coming down on him. He hoped one of them had had the sense to bring the firewood into cave, and he hoped there was a place for the water to run out of his comfortable hollow, because he didn't fancy sleeping in a puddle. Perhaps he could pick one of the other caves to take cover in tonight. It wasn't like they'd be out searching them in the hope he'd be asleep and murderable. Probably.

There was nowhere to run away to, either. At least, he could run off in any direction, but it would just be more of the same and it would probably take a long while to find them again if they decided to move too. He wasn't about to lose Xiao Xingchen to this stupid world full of weird animals and ferns.

He washed himself in the cold river, on the grounds he was already pretty wet, and searched up more eggs. He couldn't find any of the pink ones, but he spotted a nest in a tree and found a clutch of speckled creamy ones, holding them up to the light to make sure they had yolks and not half-grown scaly things in them.

Song Lan looked about as pleased with the rain as he felt, which cheered him up enough to greet them brightly. At Xiao Xingchen's slightly testy insistence, he came under the edge of the cave out of the rain. His robes steamed in the heat, and Xiao Xingchen pressed tea into his hands and said, "You have to be careful. If you get sick, there's no medicine."

"A little rain isn't going to kill me, and it's not cold," he said. "You worry too much."

"A lot of rain, and sleeping wet through," Xiao Xingchen said, and he lifted his hand as if he might feel Xue Yang's forehead, then changed it into brushing his own hair back with an embarrassed glance at Song Lan. "If it keeps raining - "

"I'm fine," Xue Yang said. "Do you have plans you need me for today? Dig more holes? Fetch more wood?"

"Why, did you have plans?" Song Lan said, fixing his suspicious gaze on Xue Yang.

"Just explore more, probably."

"I don't like you going too far," Xiao Xingchen said, predictably, like Xue Yang was going to come back riding a dragon or something. Which would be very cool, obviously, but Xue Yang didn't have any plans for it.

He wondered, idly, if he could take one of them back through time. Or maybe some eggs. You could do wonderful things with something that could pass for a dragon.

That was a consideration for later. He said now, "I won't go into the deep forest, and if anything tries to eat me I'll fly away, and if I fly I'll keep an eye out and not get knocked out of the sky by dragons. I'm not in the habit of getting myself killed." Unlike the pair of you he refrained from saying. He was getting better at biting his tongue on snideness. Had he done it so much in the years he'd spent with Xiao Xingchen and A-QIng? He wasn't sure. He'd felt less snide, then, and the conversation had rarely demanded malice when instead he could make Xiao Xingchen laugh or smile.

It had been a long time ago. He was remembering it... slanted. He'd said his cruel things, probably, and Xiao Xingchen hadn't always smiled. He was remembering the good days, and not the bad.

But the good days, he was sure, had really been good. He'd waited years for another of those days, and he'd wait years more if necessary.

He accepted his share of the rice, and ate in silence for a while, the hot food warming him from without as the fire baked him from the outside. He wanted to stay a little longer, so he could go out again radiant with heat; he said, "Have you thought about it?"

"Hm?" Xiao Xingchen looked at him as if there were a thousand things he could be talking about.

"Have you discussed whether or not you want me to take you back," Xue Yang said, patiently. "Save Baixue Temple, and all that."

Xiao Xingchen looked at Song Lan, who sighed and looked away. They weren't in that accord Xue Yang had noticed and disliked, so long ago, but Xue Yang didn't think they were fighting. He amused himself, nonetheless, with a little fantasy where they drifted apart and Xiao Xingchen decided Xue Yang was better company and Song Lan went back to Baixue Temple and meditated in silence a lot.

Finally Song Lan said, "We've been talking it over. We haven't come to any conclusions."

"Let me guess, you're going round in circles about morality and so on," Xue Yang said. "I bet you argued about whether it's okay to punish me for crimes I haven't committed yet, right?"

"You have committed them," Song Lan said, "But also they wouldn't have been committed. Which would make bringing you to justice... tricky."

"Because bringing me to justice worked out so well last time," Xue Yang said. "I hope at least you'd kill me yourself, Song-daozhang, after all these years we've spent together."

"It's not funny," Xiao Xingchen said, and Xue Yang said, "I wasn't joking."

It wasn't like he wanted to die, but all things being equal, Song Lan seemed appropriate. He wouldn't be able to do it if Xue Yang hadn't raised him from the dead and then raised him... more from the dead, so in a way it was Xue Yang's own work.

Although there was at least half a chance he'd kill or maim Song Lan, and then Xiao Xingchen would be upset; Xue Yang wouldn't be around to mind if they both died, of course, but -

Somehow he didn't like the idea of Xiao Xingchen's misery even if he wasn't around to see it, especially if he ruined the hard work Xue Yang had done bringing him back to life.

"Anyway," Xue Yang said, "You could go around on that forever. Why not worry about if it's fair to your Temple to leave them dead? Or if it's fair for Song-daozhang to go around all lonely and guilty without them."

"Your show of concern is touching," Song Lan said sourly, and Xue Yang shrugged. "I'm not going to reverse the natural order of life to alleviate my own guilt."

"The dao teaches compliance with events as they occur, and seeking to live a calm life while following the flow of the natural order," Xiao Xingchen said.

"What, so me going about killing people is the natural order of things - "

"No," Song Lan snapped.

"Then changing it so I don't do that is more natural, right? Do you feel unnatural, Song-daozhang? You know what it's like to be an abomination to the natural order, after all."

"No," Song Lan admitted, face twisting. "I feel as alive as I ever did. Not like..." he shook his head. Xue Yang should ask him, sometimes, about what it had been like; he might get some ideas, for -

Well, if this worked out,he wouldn't work for the Jin again, and if it didn't work out, well, who cared about the Jin anyway? Either way, they wouldn't have anything he wanted. It wasn't like Jin Guangyao would even know he could be useful, really.

"Anyway, the natural order of things is more changed by us staying here, isn't it?" Xue Yang said changing his angle of attack. "If we're meant to be anywhere, it's certainly not here."

"I doubt that anything we do here can affect anyone," Xiao Xingchen said, and Xue Yang shrugged.

"Daozhang - Xiao Xingchen. Don't you want to give Song Lan his temple back? The people I tricked you into killing, they'll live again. Yi City will be back, just the same; the people - "

"What happened to Yi City?" Xiao Xingchen interrupted him, and Xue Yang glanced at Song Lan, who met his eyes for a second and then looked away, mouth setting into a grim line. No help there, then. Xiao Xingchen sat up straight, fixed his sternest look on Xue Yang, and said, "What happened to A-Qing?"

Xue Yang's body tried to curl up like a burning leaf. He resisted it, but couldn't hold Xiao Xingchen's gaze. He was too hot, suddenly, and thought about moving away from the fire. But he just sat there, and after a moment Xiao Xingchen said, "Xue Yang. What happened to A-Qing?"

"I was angry," Xue Yang said. It was an entirely insufficient word for what he'd felt. "A-Qing - if she hadn't - if she'd kept her mouth shut - " He shook his head. "But she had to drag Song-daozhang into it, and then -"

Xiao Xingchen had bled himself out so quickly there was nothing Xue Yang could do to stop it. Funny, really, that all of them had desperately wanted Xiao Xingchen to be all right, and it had ended like that.

"What happened?" Xiao Xingchen said.

"I went after her. She'd only gone to the river. I don't - " He rubbed his brow. "It was a long time ago," he said finally. "I can't remember - "

"You can't remember what you did?" Xiao Xingchen said, scornful, and Xue Yang jerked his head up and glared.

"I remember that," he said. "I can't remember why. I didn't - I was going to bring her back. I knew you'd want her when - when I brought you back. But then she said some shit - couldn't keep her fucking mouth shut, I wouldn't have - " he stopped. He didn't make excuses; he did what he did, and that was that. "She talked shit to me," he said, flat. "I cut out her tongue, so she couldn't talk it any more, and I cut out her eyes, so she was blind like she lied she was."

Xiao Xingchen's face went soft, not in a good way. Slack and pliable, like he didn't have the strength to hold an expression.

"Then I killed everyone in Yi City and turned them into fierce corpses. I made Song Lan help," Xue Yang said. That was easier. "I needed test subjects. I used what I learned to improve Song Lan - he was the most lifelike fierce corpse imaginable, he could pass for a human easily. ~You should've - but nothing I did fixed your soul. So eventually - "

"I thought," Xiao Xingchen said, "That you liked A-Qing, under it all."

"Yeah, well. Seems like she didn't like me at all." Xue Yang picked at his nails. "She'll come back, too. I thought about bringing her along with us, but she'd have ended up back in a kid's body who knows where. And - I thought maybe it was better if she just didn't remember any of - that. When we get back we can head over to Yi City and search for her - she won't be too hard to find, she won't be that far away, probably. Worst case we'll just have to go where and when you met her before."

"You once offered to beat the boys who bullied her," Xiao Xingchen said, and he snorted.

"And she threw a tantrum about that, too! No pleasing her. I got the ringleader, though. Dangled him off a roof with a knife under his chin. He pissed himself, little shit, but there wasn't a mark on him. A-Qing knew something was up, but she couldn't prove it." He laughed; her suspicious little face over the dinner table had amused him for a week, and Xiao Xingchen hadn't had to waste his time comforting her after she'd been pushed over or whatever. A win for everyone, really.

"Why did you do that?" Xiao Xingchen said, and Xue Yang looked up. Xiao Xingchen had recovered his composure, his face serene again, his eyes bright and steady.

"Do what?"

"Hurt the boy who bullied her."

"If this is some lecture about justice, I don't want to hear it," Xue Yang said. "He hurt A-Qing and I didn't even hurt him. That's not even justice, let alone vengeance. If she wouldn't have thrown a tantrum I would have kicked him halfway to Lanling."

"Why did you care A-Qing was hurt?" Xiao Xingchen said again. Xue Yang stared at him. He seemed serious.

"She whined about it all over the house," he said, and then, "She had a black eye once, remember? You couldn't see it but you felt it, it swelled up. They sent her home with a fucked-up face because they thought she was a beggar no one cared about. Like no one would notice, or care, or do shit about it."

"And then you hurt her worse than her bullies ever did," Xiao Xingchen said, and Xue Yang's gut lurched unpleasantly. His skin prickled with heat, as if he were starting a fever.

"Yeah," he said. "You got any more questions, Xiao Xingchen? I might go out into the basin today. It's a big place. Maybe there's something interesting out there."

Xiao Xingchen stared at him. Not scornful, this time. If Xue Yang had to name it, he'd call it puzzlement, like he couldn't understand what he was seeing.

Then he said, "I don't think we can go back," and Xue Yang blinked at him.

"What? But we can stop that ever happening to A-Qing, we can stop - "

"I don't think it's safe," Xiao Xingchen said, steadily. He looked at Song Lan, who was struggling to maintain his calm face. Xue Yang was fairly sure that was dismay seeking a hold. "I'm sorry, Zichen; I've said I'll defer to your decision and I will, but I feel very strongly that we cannot allow Xue Yang to return to a world where there are so many potential victims for him. It's deeply, deeply irresponsible. I know you have lost far more than I, so - "

"No," Song Lan interrupted. He looked away, and then said, voice strained, "You're right. I agree."

Xue Yang's stomach dropped, sharp, like he was diving off a roof. He curled his fingers around the iron pot, and watched them both, tense for movement. Any minute now, Song Lan would realise there was no need to keep Xue Yang alive.

"If," Xingchen said, and now he was watching Xue Yang just as carefully, "If you really do want my company, then you will have to stay here, with me. And in return I will - do my best to forgive you. What you did."

Song Lan's head snapped back round, and he frowned at Xiao Xingchen; Xiao Xingchen added, "Of course, if you harm Song Lan again, I won't forgive that."

"Oh, but I bet it's open season on me," Xue Yang said, his mouth coming out with a suitable response even while his mind whirled like a top. Too many things were happening right now; he needed time to chew this over, somewhere Song Lan might not murder him at any moment. "You know, you can talk this over, I'm going to go - do some things."

He set the pot down and backed away, eyes on Song Lan, who just sat there, attention still on Xiao Xingchen. Xiao Xingchen, in the corner of his eye, was just as still, and Xue Yang turned and fled away down the slope, too hot, shivery, a mass of wild sensation far stronger than the constant patter of rain.

Chapter Text

The rain blew a light mist of rain onto them, mingled with the smoke of the fire. Xiao Xingchen swallowed, and swallowed again. His gorge rose in his throat and he choked it back. Bring her with us Xue Yang had said, so bright, talkative A-Qing had lived for years without her tongue, and newly blinded.

We'll look out for each other, she'd said to him once, and she'd kept her end of the bargain and he'd failed so terribly at his.

"Xiao Xingchen?" Song Lan said, gently, and Xiao Xingchen sighed.

"I won't stop you if -" he couldn't finish saying it. Song Lan hummed.

"Would you be all right if I killed him?" he said, blunt, and Xiao Xingchen pulled his knees up to his chest, hugged them. He thought of A-Qing, her smile, her valiant spirit.

"I could endure it," he said. Song Lan was watching him with a quiet question in his eyes, and Xiao Xingchen said, "You're wondering why I made up my mind?"

"Yes. Of course it was terrible, but... not new. He's done worse." Song Lan's mouth bent in disgust; Xiao Xingchen wasn't brave enough to ask for details.

"He cared about A-Qing," Xiao Xingchen said, and caught Song Lan's dubious look. "You don't believe me, and why would you? But we lived together three years and she was - well, they were both rude, but she said things I would never have expected Xue Yang to take. And he never laid a hand on her - she would have told me. She was always suspicious of him, and he treated her like... perhaps not a little sister, but not unlike."

"But he hurt her," Song Lan said, and Xiao Xingchen shuddered.

"Yes. He cared, and he still did that to her. He cared about me, and he still - he didn't hesitate to use me as a tool and break my spirit with his cruel words. How can you trust a man who'll do that to the people he cares for? We could take him back, confident he'll try his hardest to behave himself for my approval, and then he could just - " he shivered at the memory of Xue Yang's voice going metallic, savage; the way he spoke had been horribly reminiscent of his playful teasing, as if a cat had tired of patting its velvet paws and put out its knives. "He might even regret it afterwards."

"He might undo it," Song Lan said, and Xiao Xingchen's eyes widened at the thought. "Whenever he erred he could simply step back in time and try again, and we'd never know."

"And that's another thing," Xiao Xingchen. "Did he say he worked for the Chief Cultivator? What if he decided to hire this new power out? Who knows what he might not undo, for enough money?"

Song Lan looked as alarmed as Xiao Xingchen felt at the prospect. Xue Yang skipping back through time - sending others back in time -

"Even done with the very best of intentions, I think it is a very risky endeavour," Song Lan said. "And I have my doubts as to the intentions of the sort of man who would want this."

"Ah, I don't say that," Xiao Xingchen said. "I'm sure we all have things we'd take back if we could. And with the Sunshot campaign so recent - " he frowned. "Recent to me. But I'm sure many would want to save a loved one. Avert a battle. Take a different path."

"If there was one thing," Song Lan said, slow, "That I wish I had done differently, it's what I said to you that day in Baixue. So much evil came because I spoke hastily and cruelly, and I should have known better."

"Zichen, no, you were right," Xiao Xingchen said, and Song Lan said "No," so fiercely Xiao Xingchen started.

"It wasn't your fault. It wasn't - consequences. Xue Yang was right about that. It was him, choosing to hurt us both as badly as he could, and I was foolish enough to be his tool, to worsen the wounds. I regretted it so quickly, afterwards; he took almost everything from me, and I thrust aside what little he'd left. I was a fool. I was cruel."

"You were in pain," Xiao Xingchen said. "There is no need... I never held it against you, Zichen, I swear."

"But you believed it," Song Lan said, and Xiao Xingchen looked away. "You believed it was your fault. It wasn't."

"You warned me against interfering with the business of the sects," Xiao Xingchen said, "You were right."

"Perhaps," Song Lan said. "But I didn't think that would happen, or that the Nies would fail us so badly."

"I have no idea how he survived that," Xiao Xingchen said, and Song Lan shook his head.

"We could... question him," Song Lan said, after a moment. "He doesn't seem to mind talking about... anything, really."

Except A-Qing, Xiao Xingchen thought bitterly. His expression had been close to shame, an alien look on his features. Song Lan continued, "We could go and find him, if you want."

"No," Xiao Xingchen said. "He'll be back, if you want to question him. I don't want to see him again for a while." He gave a dry laugh. "It's not as if there's a hurry. There's nothing we can do with the information he tells us. We should work on our shelter, it's..."

They looked at it. It wasn't much more than a few piles of wood. Xiao Xingchen sighed. "Well. We will have to learn, if we're going to live here."

"We'll manage," Song Lan said. "We should dig a proper latrine pit, and gather more firewood; we can put it against the walls to dry out. Who knows how long it will rain for?"

Xiao Xingchen took the hatchet, and went out into the woods to find himself lean and supple saplings that might be used to weave some sort of wall or roof. He felt the smooth wood of the handle, the way the air smelled, the sound of the trees leaves rustling. That, at least, was familiar; the leaves had changed but they rattled together under the pressure of the wind and made the same noises. It was pleasant to work, to feel his body do simple tasks. To be able to look up and around, and see the light coming green and amber through the trees.

To take his saplings back up the slope and set his gaze on Song Lan, who had stripped out of his overrobe and tucked the hem of his inner robe into his belt. With his hair dressed so simply, he could almost pass for a labourer; but of course, they would never wear that deep black dye. He looked up when Xiao Xingchen approached, and he looked so quietly happy Xiao Xingchen's heart lifted higher.

Xiao Xingchen set his few saplings against the cave wall, and they studied them. It would take a lot of them to build a wall. "We have plenty of time," Xiao Xingchen said, and Song Lan nodded.

"We should think about beds, too," he said. "As it gets colder it won't be healthy to sleep on the ground with just a blanket. But I'm not really sure..." he frowned.

"There isn't much in the way of grass, or I'd say we should try and dry some straw," Xiao Xingchen said. "Perhaps we can experiment with ferns. Or leaf piles."

"Mm," Song Lan said, sounding unconvinced. Well, Xiao Xingchen wasn't convinced either. They'd think of something. Perhaps they could find some way to split wood to get flat surfaces; he was sure that could be done with just an axe, if he could remember how.

The day passed well enough with no sign of Xue Yang. He didn't come at dawn, when it was grey and bleak; another day of gathering wood with the little hatchet while Song Lan worried over their lack of supplies and picked at the wood with his knife, trying to find a way to make it stay together. They didn't carry rope as a matter of course, and it seemed unwise to use the spirit-binding ropes.

Xue Yang didn't come the next day, or the next, and fear and relief warred in Xiao Xingchen's heart. Could it be that his luck had finally run out? Had he tangled with something beyond even his considerable powers?

It wasn't as if they were going back. Xue Yang was a danger to Song Lan at worst, and a constant goad at worst, a reminder of all he had lost. If he just died, the burden would be lifted from them both.

And yet he missed his little friend so terribly. It was selfish, when he had Song Lan beside him; but his little friend had never quite packed the wound Song Lan had left, and now Song Lan similarly failed to occupy the space his - that Xue Yang had taken up.

And A-Qing. Still he half-expected to be called from his work by an explosion of rage and laughter, one of them tormenting the other, her light footsteps fleeing or giving chase to Xue Yang's; despite his cultivation, he never caught her in these fits of anger, and never ran so fast she lost track of him. He laughed at her hurled insults, and cursed her back with vigour, and let her hit him with her stick, yelping and feigning a limp to demand sympathy from Xiao Xingchen. The worst he'd ever done was shove her too roughly, tumbling her down into the dirt, leaving her grumbling as Xiao Xingchen helped her up and scolded him.

The thought of him actually hurting her still seemed incomprehensible, though he'd heard it from Xue Yang's own mouth.

He had let her down so badly; he and Xue Yang, surely, deserved each other.

It was five days until Xue Yang returned, as dusk was coming in. The sight of him shocked Xiao Xingchen anew; Xue Yang, that terrible enemy who had haunted Xiao Xingchen's nightmares. But he walked with a familiar tread, and when he stopped at a wary distance, he called out, "Xiao Xingchen, I'm here!" just as he used to when approaching the coffin house. A bundle of wood was tucked under one arm and some kind of greenery under the other. He waited, watching them intently, until Song Lan called out, "All right, I won't kill you tonight," and Xue Yang came closer, smiling.

He had a string of three fish dangling from one hand, bulky things as long as Xue Yang's thigh. Song Lan's expression brightened at the sight of them, and they picked out sticks from the firewood stock to sharpen and impale with. Xiao Xingchen found his thin hunting knife, and gutted them; the scales were much bigger and tougher than he was used to, but the insides looked normal enough, a layer of brownish flesh that didn't smell of much.

"I suppose we'd need iron for a spit," Xiao Xingchen said, as he passed the fish out, and they huddled closer to the fire to heat them. Xue Yang sat with his back to the darkness, opposite Song Lan; before, Xiao Xingchen recalled, he had always sat facing the door. The danger to him here was inside. Xiao Xingchen swallowed, and said, attempting lightness, "Does anyone know how to make it?"

"You have to mine it first," Song Lan said, and then frowned. "And then you do something with it when it's mined, to make it usable, and then you forge it."

"Something," Xue Yang said, and he giggled, one of his gentler laughs. Song Lan frowned more deeply, but Xue Yang smiled at him, and said, "A revered daoist master, a student of the great immortal, and the man who unraveled time itself, and all we can come up with is that you do something to the iron."

"Well, if you can figure out time itself, I'm sure smelting iron won't take you long," Song Lan said, frown clearing, and then he said, "Smelting! That's what it's called."

"Oh, well, if we know what it's called," Xue Yang said. He poked at the fish, tapping his nail on the thick scales down the spine. "I don't know if these are safe to eat, by the way."

"They don't smell bad. Well, if we get sick, we'll know better next time. We have to eat something; our rice won't last forever." Xiao Xingchen glanced at Song Lan, who was eyeing his fish with new suspicion. "They looked and smelled all right, inside." It wasn't as if Xue Yang could have tampered with them, after all. Or had any reason to do so.

That they knew of, of course. He grimaced, and caught quick sideways glances from both of them.

He wasn't sure what they'd do if it emerged they couldn't eat the fish or beasts here; they had supplemented their diet with foraging in Yi City, of course, but their rice would not last indefinitely and the thought of living on roots for the foreseeable future was not pleasant. The simple life of the daoist; but rice and paper and robes were all surprisingly complex when you considered them.

Xue Yang and Song Lan were - bickering - over whether an animal could be poisonous if its eggs weren't. At least, Song Lan was setting his arguments in his usual grave, dignified way, and Xue Yang was bickering, taking little nips from his reasoning to see how it tasted before spitting it out.

"Snakes aren't poisonous, they're venomous," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang cocked his head. "You can eat them without getting poisoned."

"Huh," Xue Yang. "I knew some people ate snakes but I thought they were just risk-takers."

"Well," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang raised an eyebrow when he hesitated. "It can be unsafe. With careless butchers, if the poison gets into the meat, and then..."

"Not really the same, though," Xue Yang said. "Anything's poisonous if you get poison in it."

"But it is true that if you ate an entire venomous snake you would be at risk from the poison," Song Lan said.

"Crunch, crunch," Xue Yang said, and knocked on his fish again. "I just think if one part of an animal can be poisonous, any part of it can or can't be."

"Well, it would be strange for an animal to lay poisonous eggs that then hatched into not-poisonous animals," Song Lan said. "Where would the poison come from?"

Xiao Xingchen cleared his throat and they both looked at him. "Elderberries - the whole plant - are poisonous, but if you let the berries ripen, and cook them, they will be edible and you can make an excellent medicinal wine from them," he offered.

"You can make wine, Xiao Xingchen? You never said." Xue Yang twirled his stick idly in his hand, the fish sliding around on it. "Think of the parties we could have thrown in the coffin house, making wine out of old potatoes."

"I've seen it done," Xiao Xingchen temporised, "But it needs containers."

"Right, of course," Xue Yang said. "Everything needs something else to make it." He blew out an irritated breath, and then said, "Maybe we can find clay? That's just... earth, right."

"But it needs a kiln to fire in," Song Lan said.

"You can do it in a firepit," Xiao Xingchen offered.

"You've seen it done?" Xue Yang said, and laughed when Xiao Xingchen nodded. "Xiao Xingchen, all that time wasted on sword forms when you should have been learning how to fire a pot."

"There were a lot of things I should have learned," Xiao Xingchen agreed, and Xue Yang gave him a sharp look. He avoided it, peering into the empty gut of his fish, testing the dark flesh with his fingertip. "I think this is done," he decided. "I'm going to try it."

He laid it over his bowl and began to pick it apart, knife in one hand and chopsticks in the other; the scales peeled free without too much trouble, and he sampled a piece of the flesh. Song Lan and Xue Yang watched him intently, like he was about to do something dangerous. Maybe he was. He chewed the fish carefully; it was meatier than most fish, didn't flake so easily. The taste was... fine. Not delicate, but not offensively strong.

He shrugged, and said, "Tastes fine."

"Well, okay," Xue Yang said. He laid his own fish down on one of the flat stones around the fire and began to take it apart with his dagger.

It wasn't the best meal he'd ever had, but it was good. The rice was growing monotonous; if asked before, he would have said he could eat rice indefinitely, but he'd underestimated how much difference a little supplementation to the diet made. Garlic scapes, or some mushrooms, some fruit found in a tree, buns or dumplings from a generous householder when they passed.

"What did you do for the Chief Cultivator?" Song Lan said, and Xue Yang glanced up, the fire sparking in his dark eyes. He answered readily enough, though his smile was guarded.

"Which one? All of the last three had work for me." He smiled at their evident dismay. "For Jin Guangyao - you remember him, right? That nice young Nie deputy, Meng Yao? For him, anything he wanted. He had plenty of servants, but most of them had... scruples, limits. Or they weren't smart enough, or strong enough, or willing to take the risks." His smile deepened. Xiao Xingchen had never seen Xue Yang like this, relaxed and conversational. He'd half-thought there would be something in his demeanour, some terrible fire in his eyes or snarl to his mouth, but he was very… normal. If Xiao Xingchen hadn't known the truth, he would have seen simply a handsome young man with a charming smile. "People like me aren't usually looking for employers."

"Oh?" Xiao Xingchen said. "You were working for Wen Ruohan, weren't you?"

"Not really," Xue Yang said. "I dealt with Wen Ruohan, because I couldn't escape him." His nose wrinkled up in distaste. Then he smiled. "And I cheated him, because what he gave me was worthless. I didn't need his permission to massacre the Chang clan."

"So he wasn't behind it after all?" Song Lan said. "It was all your grudge?"

"Well, he did give me permission," Xue Yang said. "But I think he would have preferred to hold off on slaughtering clans for a while. He had to rush. He went after Qinghe Nie because I was there."

"Is that how you survived?" Xiao Xingchen said, his heart lightening a little. It would be nice to believe they hadn't been mistaken in Nie Mingjue, at least.

"Mm. Nie Mingjue would have executed me right there, but that nice young gentleman Meng Yao advised I be kept for further questioning. Then, when the Wen came for me, he let me out. I think he was hoping the Wen would take me and go, but I gave them all the slip." He scratched idly at his chin, shiny with the oil from the fish, and said, "Or maybe he was already thinking of infiltrating the Wen, and hoped I'd vouch for him? Maybe both, or something else. He's a tricky one. So when I heard Meng Yao was Jin Guangyao now, I figured he was someone smart enough to find me useful."

"What did he pay you with?" Song Lan said, and Xue Yang blinked at him, and then smiled.

"The Yiling Lazou's notes, of course. I was running out of avenues to research. There was a lot of interesting stuff in there, but- " Xue Yang looked away, lashes dropping over his bright eyes. The fire flicked light over the curve of his jaw, his neck with the scar Song Lan had left on him, almost gone. "He talked a lot about how he wished things had been different. He was starting to play around with the idea of fixing it, somehow, going back and - well, he had a lot of ideas about when it all went really wrong. I didn't -" he smiled wider, the faint shadow of a dimple on his cheek. "Well, that was his life, not mine, so I didn't care. But he did have some notes that were useful, and I combined them with my ideas, and. Here we are." He cocked his head, turning back to them, and laughed. "I suppose if I'd gone back to the time I meant to, I would have cheated Jin Guangyao too, wouldn't I? I still have the notes, but my work would have been undone." Xue Yang's expression turned considering. "Hey, Song-daozhang, if I steal something, and travel back in time with it to the day before I stole it, and then not steal it, so now there are two of them and the original owner has their own, is mine still stolen?"

Song Lan sighed. Xiao Xingchen said, "Imagine if you could do that with sacks of rice during a famine."

"That seems," Song Lan said, and frowned. "I don't know. It sounds like it shouldn't work."

"Well, I don't think it's a good idea to test it here, it takes a lot of talisman paper," Xue Yang said, and then, "Although we could actually do with more rice, so maybe we should try it?" And then, brightening, "Wait, if I go back in time, I won't even have used the talisman paper."

"No, the talisman paper goes with you, doesn't it? If you bind it all to yourself - "

"Yeah, I'd have to only bind the sack of rice, and just step back into my old body, one bag of rice richer, but with all the talisman paper I used to have - no, actually, I don't know what happens if I bind something to myself and then step back to where it was - I think I'd double it, like the rice."

They paused to think it through. Then Song Lan said, "So you went back in time in those clothes. What happened to the clothes you were wearing - I mean, what would have happened if you'd stepped into that body. Wait, if we have the clothes we were wearing then, are we naked there now?"

Xue Yang let out a peal of gleeful laughter, and then said, "I have no idea! I hope so! I hope you were walking down the road and suddenly all your clothes vanished and you had to take cover in a hedge and they make it into a folksong." Xiao Xingchen let out a laugh, surprised by the absurdity of the image, and Song Lan gave him a startled look. Xue Yang paused, and then said, "Hey, maybe that happened, and the future already changed. Maybe you both had to go and get new clothes and the Wen caught me at Chang Manor. That would mean they didn't go to Qinghe Nie so soon, and... no idea, actually. Anything could happen."

"So even if we don't go back we might have permanently changed the future," Song Lan concluded.

"Well, if that did happen, I never met you, so I never took revenge against you," Xue Yang said. "Okay. If I'm less to blame for crimes I did and then undid, am I less to blame for crimes I did and then may have undone?" He grinned as if it were a fun game, as if there were not the lives of real people hanging on it, and Song Lan just looked faintly puzzled.

"I'm not sure," he said, finally. "I suppose it would be as if you threw a rock at someone, closed your eyes and shouted a warning... Certainly, under normal circumstances, you would deserve punishment for trying to harm them, but the outcome of your actions should be factored in..."

"It's not an academic exercise," Xiao Xingchen snapped. "Those people suffered."

Song Lan looked a little abashed at that, ducking his head, focusing on wiping his hands clean with a cloth. Xue Yang blinked as if he didn't understand the statement, and then said, "Oh, I forgot," and reached for the greenery he'd brought up, long shafts of grass almost as long as he was tall. He leaned over to place it in Xiao Xingchen's lap, nudging it under his hand. "These look like rushes, what do you think?"

Xiao Xingchen picked it up and examined it. It did look like a rush, and flexed in his hand the same way. He knew, at least, how to weave rush matting; that was a suitable occupation for a child, and he was sure his fingers still remembered the way.

"That's good," he said. "Are there many? We'll need to dry them, but we could weave a mat for the porch roof, and one to lie down to sleep on. In time."

"Oh yes, lots. There's a waterlogged patch down in the basin where a lot of streams meet; it's very marshy, some pools. It's near where I found the fish. I can get more tomorrow." Xue Yang rose, and said, "Where are you burying the scraps?"

"Put them in the pot; we can boil them in the water for the rice tomorrow," Song Lan said, and as Xue Yang stooped to gather up the wreckage of his fish, Song Lan stepped quietly round the fire, pot in his hand. Xue Yang rose to find him within touching distance, and threw the scraps at him, bouncing backwards, dagger reappearing in his hand.

"No!" Xiao Xingchen said, sharply, and Song Lan just stood there. He stared at Xue Yang, jaw flexing, and Xue Yang laughed, high and strained.

"Oops," he said. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow."

And he fled off into the night before Xiao Xingchen could think what to say. With him gone, it was easier; he got up to pick the fish scraps off Song Lan, dropping them into the pot.

"He didn't," Xiao Xingchen said, and paused. "I think you startled him."

"Really, throwing fish in my face is a minor offence," Song Lan said. "And yet, with the fish on me, I find it's a very pressing concern." He shook his head. "It's… very difficult to balance my own desires with what I know to be right. To kill him now would achieve only my own satisfaction; but it would be such a satisfaction. Is that so wrong?"

"No," Xiao Xingchen said, which didn't seem to reassure Song Lan.

"I shouldn't want revenge. That's not the way. But how can I ever enact justice on Xue Yang? Whatever I do, it'll never be enough for all the lives he destroyed." He snorted, unamused. "If I could travel through time and kill him once for every murder he committed..."

Xiao Xingchen set the pot down, and said, "Are you going to? Kill him, I mean."

"I'd be right to. Who could blame me?"

"No one."

There was a pause, and Song Lan's mouth quirked a little. "It seems strange to have you give way to me so easily."

"Perhaps I should have done it more often."

"Would you be all right? If I did kill him?"

"I'd recover," Xiao Xingchen said, pleased with how steady his voice was. "I'm sorry. I know it must seem repulsive to you that I'd mourn his loss, but - "

"No," Song Lan said, and sighed. "Never, Xiao Xingchen. You knew him as a… friend." He paused, and then said quietly, "I forgot there, for a few minutes. I thought how clever he was, and - I wished that my shifu were here. He would have enjoyed that sort of talk, I think. And now I wish he were here to guide me through my feelings, and help me reason."

They fell silent. Xiao Xingchen's fingers trembled with the desire to reach out and enfold Song Lan's hands, but he wasn't sure it would be welcomed. He had met Song Lan's shifu, a few times; he had been amiably tolerant of the young man who'd appeared from nowhere and annexed his best student. A kind man, a clever one. He and Song Lan had loved each other, in their quiet and understated way. There had been elderly monks and very young disciples at Baixue, and Xue Yang had slaughtered them all, flung their bodies about like animals.

And still, Xiao Xingchen's cowardly heart longed to forgive Xue Yang, to believe his assurances, to find a path that would let him live and make jokes and tease Xiao Xingchen.

He looked up at Song Lan, familiar and dear, his beautiful eyes and his solemn stare. Taken from him by Xue Yang; given back to him by the same. His heart thudded painfully, and he said again, "I'd recover. You should act as you think best."

"I will," Song Lan said. "Go to sleep; I'll sit up first."

Song Lan was brisk the next morning, when he had drunk his tea and woken up fully. He insisted they all go down to the basin and gather as many rushes as they could carry, and Xue Yang, who had reappeared bearing eggs for breakfast, just shrugged, and said, "Okay, Song-daozhang." He stayed at a careful distance from the pair of them as they made their way down; once in a while, on ground made slippery by the persistent drizzle, his hand would reach out, as if towards an elbow, and then he would pull it back and make a face.

If Song Lan weren't here, no doubt he would be hovering closer. It was just as well that Song Lan was here.

There was a very large patch of marsh at the eastern curve of the basin; the slope had been eaten into, ravined and cracked by the many streams that flowed over them. It was a pool of unknown depth close to the basin wall, and then shallower pools and sodden ground and finally squishy mud that made Song Lan's nose wrinkle.

"Are those the dragons?" Xiao Xingchen said, pointing. Some way into the marsh, there were what looked like enormous birds, with beaks as long as Xue Yang was tall. They waddled along using their wings as legs, sticking those terrible beaks into the water.

"Let's keep our distance," Song Lan said. "We know they can fly, so a fast escape could be tricky."

"If they fly, they can't weigh much," Xue Yang said. "Don't worry so much."

They all kilted up their robes, and Xue Yang took off his boots.

"My feet are like leather, Xiao Xingchen," he said, when Xiao Xingchen gave a tentative protest, and he recalled his little friend saying something like that, when he had told A-Qing she shouldn't run about without shoes. I didn't have shoes until I was fourteen, his little friend had said, indifferently. She'll be fine.

A-Qing had huffed, unwilling to ally with the bad one against her white brother, but equally unwilling to put her shoes on in the sticky summer weather. His little friend had laughed, and tossed candy down the path to distract her; she had - she had pretended to search for it, while he had gently scolded his little friend, and his little friend had laughed at him and not even pretended at remorse, his fingers sliding between Xiao Xingchen's, holding his hand in the folds of his sleeve while Xiao Xingchen tried not to smile, his nose and cheeks warm from the sun.

Song Lan did not venture into the mud, padding about with his knife and gathering the outer clumps of reeds. Xiao Xingchen followed Xue Yang a little deeper.

"Be careful," Song Lan called after them. "There could be... crocodiles, or something."

"There could be anything," Xue Yang said, cheerfully, mud sucking at his bare calves, the legs of his inner clothes rolled above his bony knees. Xiao Xingchen picked a more cautious route in water that didn't cover his boots. Xue Yang, of course, splashed around with sublime unconcern for mud and water and underwater creatures, wielding a tool with a curved, wickedly sharp blade only as long as his palm. Xiao Xingchen didn't think it had been intended for this, but it sliced easily through the rushes.

There were plenty of strange, small creatures in the swamp; they leapt like frogs and squirmed like worms, things like little puddles of flesh that nevertheless contrived to wriggled away when prodded, and things that lifted small quivering spines in threat. It was easy to become distracted, and Xue Yang teased him for it, comparing the size of their rush bundles, offering him an extra armful so Song Lan wouldn't think he'd been slacking.

Song Lan, well within earshot, rolled his eyes, and Xue Yang giggled. Xiao Xingchen glanced back at him, and made his way further. Xue Yang followed him without prompting, scooping up reeds as they went.

"Xue Yang," Xiao Xingchen said, quietly, and Xue Yang gave him an assessing look.

"Don't just stand there," he said. "At least pretend to be gathering reeds or Song-daozhang's going to come poke his nose in."

Xiao Xingchen stooped, sliced, gathered. It would be easier, he thought, if there was some kind of basket to hold the reeds; it was awkward to hold them and gather them. When they'd dried the reeds, the first thing he made would have to be a basket for more reeds. At least there were plenty of them; the marshy area covered a few miles by the look of it.

"The… time," he began. "You brought us here. Did you have to come?"

"Pointless if I didn't, Xiao Xingchen," Xue Yang said.

"No. I mean, could you send a person through time, without accompanying them?"

Xue Yang's blade stilled. He held Xiao Xingchen's gaze for a long moment, and then he looked over his shoulder at Song Lan, who glanced up as if feeling the weight of his gaze. Xue Yang's blade had already resumed its flickering motion. He smiled down at the stubble that jutted above the water, and said, "If you want it, daozhang, I can make it happen. Just one person?"

"Just one."

Xue Yang looked up at him, eyes crinkling. "Co-operating, or not?"

Xiao Xingchen said, "Co-operating, of course," and Xue Yang's nose wrinkled, and then he shrugged and smiled.

"Much easier, then. He's not an idiot, I can teach him how to do the array when it's set up, and he can take himself."

"Safe and well," Xiao Xingchen said, "Going to the right place."

"If he's going away forever he can be Chief Cultivator for all I care," Xue Yang said. "You can both check my work when it's done and he'll run the array." He paused, and said, "I could probably work out a way to send him even if he didn't want to go. You know. If you thought it was best."

He smiled, curved like his knife blade, and Xiao Xingchen said, "Willing only. If he - if I - "

"However you like it," Xue Yang said. "It's your decision."

"It's just in case," Xiao Xingchen said. "I don't think I can manage any more reeds."

"Sure. You want to get some more fish?" Xue Yang's knife vanished into his sleeve and he wrapped both arms around the huge bundle of reeds, like a child clutching a toy. "I got them up out of the basin, there's a pool further up - it has currents, though, so be careful if you go in. Hey! Song-daozhang!"

They bundled the reeds and tied them with some cord - they didn't have much cord, Xiao Xingchen would have to test the plants to see if he could roll any without tools - and then flew up out of the basin, careful with the loads unbalancing them. The reeds weren't that heavy, but they were awkward in length and balance.

The pool Xue Yang had promised was there, with half a dozen inlets and a dozen more outlets, and Xue Yang sat on an overhanging rock and cleaned his muddy legs in the water. It looked quite calm, but must have plenty of movement underneath, by the force of the various streams. Xiao Xingchen cleaned off his boots, and Song Lan approached carefully, making his footsteps loud, to do the same. Xue Yang watched him carefully, but didn't move, and said, "So yesterday I just went in the pool and stabbed the little fuckers with Jiangzai, but I'm open to suggestions if anyone knows more about fishing. I assume that's not how fishermen do it."

"Nets are usual," Xiao Xingchen said, and Xue Yang laughed. "If it works, it works I suppose."

Xue Yang hummed agreement, and Song Lan said, "Perhaps a knife tied to a pole might work as a spear?" in doubtful tones.

"Maybe," Xue Yang said, and they got up to search for a suitable piece of wood. "I suppose the worst that could happen is the knife falls off and I have to go in after it. Not like we're not all wet through in this shitty weather." He flicked his wet sheet of hair, and Song Lan made a noise of annoyed agreement. He disliked being wet.

On rainy nights they would usually be able to find some cover; if their reputations were a little embarrassing at times, they did generally ensure them hospitality, even if only a barn warm with animal bodies and fragrant with hay.

Here, they would have to steam themselves to merely damp front of the fire, and sleep in shifts on a dirt and rock floor.

The knife did eventually drop in, working free of its bindings, and Xue Yang sighed and pulled off his outer robe, unbinding his bracers. He stuffed the whole bundle under his arm, and when Xiao Xingchen reached for it, he shook his head with a gleaming smile.

"I think I'll keep it by me," he said, and Xiao Xingchen was reminded that his weapons and tools were all safely tucked into the sleeves, and he still thought that Song Lan -

He still knew, Xiao Xingchen reminded himself. He knew that Song Lan wanted him dead and Xiao Xingchen would not lift a finger to stop it. It was well-deserved, it was justice, but Xiao Xingchen still felt the miserable chill of guilt as Xue Yang waded waist-deep, his green silk floating around him, his expression intent as he felt around with his feet.

"Be careful, it's sharp," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang raised his eyebrows in silent really? Song Lan offered the pole, and Xue Yang accepted it, and began to rattle it around. Then he said, "Ah!" and dropped the pole and drew Jiangzai in one smooth movement. Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan both recoiled, but Xue Yang stabbed his sword into the water, going shoulder deep - he was entirely soaked, even his hair was floating in the water now - as he pulled up a fish as long as his arm, still twitching despite the sword embedded in its flank.

"Catch," Xue Yang said, grinning, and flicked it off his blade towards them. Song Lan drew back, and Xiao Xingchen caught it in his arms, the dying twitches of its body flicking water over him.

"Careful," he scolded, as Xue Yang kicked the pole up into his hand, Jiangzai vanishing again.

Song Lan peered at the fish, and said, "That beak thing looks sharp," and Xiao Xingchen touched it gingerly; sharp, hard edge on a jaw that was still stiff with muscle. "Little friend, take care," he said. "This could be a nasty bite."

"You should get out. If you're injured..." Song Lan's voice trailed off, and he made a conflicted face. Xue Yang laughed, clearly following the direction of his thoughts; surely, a wounded or hobbled Xue Yang would be an improvement for him.

He chose not to rub that in; said only, "I'll heal, but these are all the knives we'll ever have. We can't be - ah!" His face brightened, and then he brought his knee up and propped the pole against his shoulder so he could reach down for the knife held in his toes. "All right, that one fish is probably enough for three, isn't it?"

"Please get out," Xiao Xingchen said. He kept picturing one of those beaked jaws snapping down on Xue Yang's skinny ankle, perhaps severing the tendons - blood in the water, attracting more of them - he shivered, the rain trickling down his spine like cold fingers.

Song Lan leaned over and grabbed the end of the pole, and Xue Yang allowed himself to be dragged out of the water, feet scrabbling at the rock. He shrugged back into his outer robe and put himself back into order; he looked smaller with his dark clothes plastered to him, his pale legs sticking out from the sodden mess of his robe. He looked up at Song Lan looming above them, and grinned. But he only said, "We going to walk back through the basin, or around the rim?"

They walked around the rim, mostly to get an idea of the terrain. The bundles of reeds weren't that heavy, but the cords holding them in place dug and pulled against Xiao Xingchen's shoulders. Xue Yang had his boots tied to his belt; when Xiao Xingchen ventured to advise against it, he said, "Xiao Xingchen, these are going to be the last pair of proper boots I ever own. I'd better take care of them. Unless you can make boots?"

"If we had leather and glue, I... might," Xiao Xingchen said. "I think you can make glue from boiling bones."

"Glue and soup and abominations to defeat your enemies; is there anything bones can't do?" Xue Yang said, and Xiao Xingchen let out a noise that started as a laugh and then trailed off as he remembered that Xue Yang really meant that last one. How many jokes had Xiao Xingchen laughed at that were actually just matter of fact statements, or even cruel jibes? Had Xue Yang taken pleasure in that?

The rain eased off as they trekked along, and the late afternoon sun warmed them. Even Xue Yang's boundless vitality was diminished by the time they made their way up to their cave.

"Footprints," Song Lan said, the first time he'd spoken in an hour, and Xiao Xingchen came up beside him. There was a print the length of his own foot, with three spreading toes and one behind.

Song Lan dropped the rushes and drew Fuxue; Xiao Xingchen copied him. Xue Yang picked up the dropped bundles, one in each hand, and shuffled along behind them.

Their sparse campsite had been turned over; the nascent wall pulled down, the stones around the fire tipped up and scattered. More footprints where the ground was damp.

There was no sign, now, of anything alive. Xiao Xingchen looked around, then up at the slopes of the mountain, and wondered if they were being watched.

"They dug up the fish scraps," Song Lan said, nodding towards them, and then turned a frown on Xue Yang. "They must have smelled the cooking last night."

Xue Yang blinked at him, and then he grinned and threw one of his bundles at Song Lan. Song Lan dodged backwards, bringing Fuxue up, and Xiao Xingchen managed, this time, not to cry out. He stood there, tense, but Xue Yang just dropped the other bundle and stripped out of one over his shoulders.

"You should have thought of that last night, then," he said. "I didn't hear you complain while you were eating. But I guess that's how you go, right? Do dumb shit and then blame it on someone else."

"Xue Yang," Xiao Xingchen said, sharp, and Xue Yang ostentatiously turned his back on the pair of them and stomped off towards the trees. "They might still be out there."

"Yeah, well, we'll see," Xue Yang said, not breaking pace. It was still raining, and he was already drenched; Xiao Xingchen was fairly sure his golden core was strong enough to keep off illness, but Xue Yang disliked the cold. He looked at Song Lan, who sheathed Fuxue and silently began to set the fire stones back into place. After all, there was no reason they should care if Xue Yang was cold.

The fish was in Xiao Xingchen's bundle. He pulled it out, and said, "Should I get rid of this?"

"No," Song Lan said, clipped. "We have to eat, I suppose. I would have preferred to avoid conflict for longer, though." Xiao Xingchen, for want of a better place, slid a cord through the fish's jaw and hung it up. It would serve for breakfast. Perhaps they could slice it into steaks and cook it on the flat stones. He spread the reeds out at the back of the cave, and wondered if it would be dry enough for them to dry out.

They lit the fire as the night darkened, and gathered their thrown-about firewood. Xiao Xingchen looked out into the darkness, and imagined the light reflecting off their eyes in the night.

They'd been stalked once by a leopard, territorial or hungry; it had come close enough to see, one night, shadowy and lovely, staring at Xiao Xingchen with unknowable thoughts in its wide eyes. They had settled that it was no real danger, a day's walk out from any settlements, and flown out on their swords rather than lead it further. But here, there were no settlements, nowhere but the wilderness. If they flew away, they would just settle where some other threat lived.

"I don't think I can sleep yet," he said, and Song Lan nodded.

"I will, then. It was a long day." He spread his outer and then inner robes to dry out, and crouched closer to the fire, sighing at the heat. Xiao Xingchen looked from under his lashes; Song Lan did not look smaller wet through, with his inner clothes clinging to his broad shoulders and powerful chest.

It had been so long since he saw Song Lan, and here he was, alive and vital. It was a gift -

Not a gift, he corrected himself, a bribe, a calculated act by Xue Yang. And a well-calculated one at that. It should disturb him more, when Xue Yang had used his knowledge so adeptly, to sink his claws into the cracks in Xiao Xingchen's soul, and pry them open...

Song Lan yawned, and went a little deeper into the cave to stretch out with his blanket. Xiao Xingchen let the thoughts chase around his mind. Song Lan did not deserve these consequences; if Xiao Xingchen could lift them from him, wasn't that the right thing to do? With his consent, of course; Xiao Xingchen would not decide for him, not again.

But if Song Lan returned home, then Xiao Xingchen could live in retreat from the world once more, assured that he would be the only possible victim of Xue Yang here. And Song Lan - if Xiao Xingchen understood correctly, Song Lan could return, take appropriate action against Xue Yang, and prevent the tragedies ever coming to pass.

Appropriate action. Kill Xue Yang, take revenge for his crimes and at the same time ensure they never occurred. A neat solution; Xue Yang really was very clever.

He'd miss Song Lan, of course, but that was a pain he was accustomed to. It might be easier than this fragile tension where from day to day he wasn't sure who'd live to see the next day.

But of course, you could never be sure of that. The last day in Yi City, he'd been untroubled until the moment he wasn't, and catastrophe unfolded around them.

Xiao Xingchen saw nothing in the firelight that night, but when he slept he wandered a forest packed with lizard-like creatures that all had Xue Yang's glossy black eyes. Wherever he turned there were more of them, but when they cornered him, all they wanted to do was stroke their clawed forefeet through his hair, and smile predatory smiles at him.

*

Song Lan watched the sun struggle up, shining wet and watercolour through the greyness, making the smoking fire appear even more feeble. He felt an unwelcome twinge of gratitude when Xue Yang slid out of the trees, as drenched as he had been the night before, with an armful of wood.

It would probably be possible for Song Lan to pity him, soaked and bony and exhausted looking, if Xue Yang didn't set his shoulders, lift his chin and strut towards him as confidently as if he still had nails in Song Lan's skull. It was impossible to pity that grin, that manner. As well pity the pack lizards that watched them from the trees.

"Why are you up first?" he said, eyes bright with malice. He kept an eye on Song Lan while he set the damp wood just inside the cave, and backed out into the rain again.

"To spite you," Song Lan said flatly, and Xue Yang's eyes narrowed, as if he weren't sure whether Song Lan actually meant it. Song Lan sighed. "Xiao Xingchen couldn't sleep right away, that's all." They both glanced into the cave, where Xiao Xingchen was bundled in his blanket. "Sit, I'm not planning to kill you."

"I brought more eggs." Xue Yang knelt and laid them out. His hand injuries seemed to have healed, at least, so Xiao Xingchen could stop worrying about them. "We can just boil them if you think the smell will attract things."

"No," Song Lan said. Anyone else, he might have apologised to. Instead he said, "We have to eat, and we have to deal with animals. We can't live solely on eggs, especially not going into winter."

Certainly, it would be impossible to maintain the diet he would prefer; he had never eaten so much meat. But they hadn't seen anything that looked recognisably like fruit. They would have to experiment with digging up plants to see if any of them had edible roots.

"I found some other stuff." Xue Yang produced several lumps of some kind of fungus - several different kinds, on closer inspection. "And I think I can probably catch those little flying ones, they roost on branches in the dark, I think I could probably just... snatch them and snap their necks." He paused, and then said, "I didn't see any sign of that pack of lizards."

"They could have gone back to the forest," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang nodded. Song Lan eyed him. "You don't think so?"

"I don't know anything about normal animals, much less these," Xue Yang said. "Maybe they'll come back if you cook again. Maybe they'll figure they didn't get anything out of the last trip, and stay away." He paused, and then said. "They tore your shitty wall apart, though. I wonder why?"

"You think they have reasons?"

"Well, sometimes it's just fun to destroy things," Xue Yang said, and he smiled, sweet, only his pointed canines giving it an edge. "Maybe it's just that." Song Lan eyed him, and Xue Yang dropped his gaze, and poked at the fungus. "You want to try some of these?"

"You try them," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang giggled almost silently, shoulders hitching.

"The way I see it, if you get sick, Xiao Xingchen and I will do our best to save you. But if I get sick, you'll just kick dirt over me and say oh well. So you should try them."

"Xiao Xingchen won't just let you die," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang rolled his eyes. Song Lan bit back the urge to argue with him, and said, "Let's both try a different mushroom."

"Okay. You can choose which, as I picked them," Xue Yang said, and then he obediently slivered off a piece of the orange-red one Song Lan pointed to, and popped it in his mouth. "Tastes kind of nutty," he concluded. "If it's not poisonous I could eat it."

Song Lan's fungus was a yellowish-white thing that flaked weirdly. It tasted of nothing in particular, and he shrugged at Xue Yang.

"I don't know much about plants, but I didn't see anything that looked like rice," Xue Yang said. "Or tea. Xiao Xingchen says all the plants are different, so maybe there isn't any yet."

"How far back are we?" Song Lan said, and Xue Yang rubbed at his chin, and looked at Song Lan with calculation in his eyes. "What?"

"You're a… scholar, or whatever. You know about the zodiac, right?"

"I'm not an expert," Song Lan said, doubtfully, and Xue Yang shrugged.

"Well, how old are the zodiac stars?"

"They're - " Song Lan stopped as the implications caught up to him. "My shifu told me the constellations in older documents weren't positioned quite the same as now," he said, slowly. "He said it was because thousands of years ago, they couldn't measure as precisely." Xue Yang waited, smiling, as Song Lan wrestled with the implications, and said, "If they've barely moved in thousands of years, how long would it take for them to move until they can't be recognised at all?"

"A very big number indeed," Xue Yang said, and he laughed, low. "I had no idea there was so much of the past. This world isn't for people, Song-daozhang, it's for big lizards and little lizards and flying lizards. They don't drink tea or eat rice. They don't use soap, or wear clothes. They don't make candy or forge iron or bake bread or make paper. If we live here we're going to live like animals."

"Not new for you, then," Song Lan said, and regretted it instantly as Xue Yang's expression went flat. He smiled, slow, and Song Lan braced himself for savagery.

Xue Yang said, levelly, "Do you know what it's like to live with nothing, Song Lan? And don't tell me about the simple life of a daoist when I know you can't even build a wall. Because you're going to learn. You'll build walls and they'll fall down, you'll build roofs and they'll leak. Over the years your robes will wear out, and we'll wear poorly-cured lizard skin. The blankets, too; we'll wrap ourselves in shitty sleeping mats. Over time, our knives will blunt and wear down and break. Will you use your pretty Fuxue to gut fish? In winter we'll be hungry, and scratch at frozen ground with sharp stones, looking for roots. We'll be hunted, when everything else is starving. If someone gets injured, well. That's a person to defend and not fight or forage for however long it takes. Even that iron pot will wear out eventually, and then it's cold water from the stream for the rest of your life, washing with animal fat and ashes, stinking and greasy." He smiled wider at Song Lan's involuntary shudder. "How long will you live, Song Lan? A hundred years? Cultivate to immortality, and sit around dirty and naked for a thousand, thousand years, until the first human being stumbles into being?" He cocked his head. "Maybe in a hundred years you could figure out smelting?"

"What's your point?" Song Lan said, voice steady.

"Just that going back would be the more sensible option," Xue Yang said, and shrugged. He smiled, toothy. "You could be in a bathhouse in a few days, cleaning under your fingernails."

Song Lan curled his fingers into his palms, and Xue Yang laughed again. Song Lan said, "We can't in good conscience unleash you on people again."

"I don't care about them," Xue Yang said. "They can live if Xiao Xingchen wants them to."

"You can't just - " Song Lan shook his head. It was futile, Xue Yang was futile, but - "You can't expect him to babysit you. How can he live knowing that if he takes his eyes off you you might do something terrible?"

"Song-daozhang, I know you like to pretend I'm a wild animal, but I spent two years in Yi City not killing anyone," Xue Yang said. "I'll admit I wanted to sometimes, but there's only so many people you can kill before people start catching on. So I didn't, and I would have kept right on if you hadn't stuck your oversized nose in."

Xue Yang was in no position to call anyone else out for having an oversized nose, but Song Lan was above childish insults. He said instead, "So you spent a year making him murder people?"

"About six months. Maybe half a dozen households? Less than ten. After that, a few people who pissed me off." He spoke casually; murder, deceit as natural, easy, as doing the laundry or a trip to market.

"What was your plan, then?" Song Lan said. "Did you plan all along, to make Xiao Xingchen - to make him fond of you? Break his heart?"

Xue Yang got one hiccup into a giggle before muffling it with his hand, glancing into the cave. His eyes danced bright and glossy over his scarred hand. When he dropped it, he was smiling scornfully.

"Don't be stupid. How could I have predicted that? I was just trying to make myself useful so he'd keep me around long enough to ruin him. But then he..." Xue Yang frowned. "Well, he did want me around," he said after a long moment's contemplation, "And I wanted to stay, so I had to stop killing people. So I can do it." He shrugged, and said, "Anyway, how do you feel?"

"How do I feel?" Song Lan said, incredulously. "Angry? Grieving? Furious? Bitter?"

"Okay," Xue Yang said. He twirled a strand of hair between his fingers. "I was thinking more like... fungus related."

They fell silent. Xue Yang stared at the fire. Song Lan said, after a pause, "You can't be trusted around people."

"You mean you don't trust me around people."

"What happens if you lose your temper?" Song Lan said. "Like you did with Xiao Xingchen - "

"I never touched Xiao Xingchen - "

"Or A-Qing?"

That shut him up, but there was no triumph in it. Xue Yang drew his knees into his chest and put his arms around them, and Song Lan couldn't find more words for him. Would A-Qing stay, after they'd all left Yi City? Strike out alone, mute and blind? He knew Xue Yang had left food out for her, when he was in the city, and when he was not, Song Lan had had just enough leeway that he could catch rabbits and leave them broken on the steps of the coffin house. He could smell her cooking them, sometimes; she never dared a fire when Xue Yang was in the city.

She would never come near Song Lan. He'd never known if it was because she thought he would catch her for Xue Yang, or if she blamed him for failing her and Xiao Xingchen. He never would know, now.

Xiao Xingchen stirred, and they both turned to look as he sat up; he smiled in their direction, face soft and happy, and then it crumpled into worry. Xue Yang said, "I'll go wash the rice."

Xiao Xingchen settled himself beside Song Lan, in the space between him and where Xue Yang had sat, and began to fillet the fish. He said, "I wonder when the rain will stop?"

"I suppose we were lucky it wasn't raining when we arrived," Song Lan said. "For all we know that was the only week it doesn't rain here."

"Cheerful," Xue Yang said, returning, and set the pot in the edge of the fire. "By the way, if Song Lan starts frothing at the mouth, he took the poison willingly."

Xiao Xingchen froze, and Song Lan said, "That was a joke, I suppose. We tried some mushrooms to see if they made us feel unwell. All right so far."

"Ah," Xiao Xingchen said, and resumed cutting. "And you, Xue Yang?"

"Well, I assume if I fall down dead you'd just politely approve of Song Lan," Xue Yang said, and Xiao Xingchen said, "That's not funny," in a cold voice.

"It's a bit funny. A couple of weeks ago you'd run to my rescue and now you're standing back going feel free." Xue Yang leaned back on his hands, and fixed his bird-bright gaze on Xiao Xingchen. "It's my death, Xiao Xingchen, can't I joke about it?"

"I can't stop you, but I can leave," Xiao Xingchen said, and made as if to set down the knife.

"No, don't go," Xue Yang said hastily. "I'll stop."

To Song Lan's surprise, he kept his mouth shut until he opened it to put in the fish, which tasted gamey but not too bad. With some herbs, it might have been quite good.

When it was done, and Xue Yang had meekly taken the scraps to the river to throw to any fish that might be in the vicinity, Xiao Xingchen said, "I need to meditate. I'm going further up the mountain." Xue Yang and Song Lan looked at each other in a moment of reluctant accord, and Xiao Xingchen said, sharp, "I have Shuanghua; I'm perfectly safe," and turned to stomp away. Xue Yang watched after him for a long minute, and then gave a startled twitch and moved away from Song Lan with a wary glance.

"I'm not going to murder you as soon as his back is turned," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang raised an eyebrow, and settled by the dying fire again.

"And why not?" he said. "I know you want to. I see the way you look at me; you want me dead. Admit it, you hope Xiao Xingchen will change his mind. You want to go back."

"We're in agreement," Song Lan said. It was the truth; no matter how much he ached to restore what he had lost, Xiao Xingchen was quite right that the risk was too great. It was just another act of cruelty from Xue Yang to dangle it before them.

His voice, somehow, did not reflect his certainty. Xue Yang smiled his horrible smile.

"You mean you've agreed with his decision."

"I agree that you're no safer than a wild tiger on a leash," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang's lip curled. "You're not dead because Xiao Xingchen wants you alive. Keep angering him, by all means; as soon as I think he'll be happy with it, I'll kill you in a heartbeat."

Xue Yang turned his eyes down. For a moment, he didn't smile, and Song Lan looked at the uncertain curve of his mouth, the weight of his lashes on his cheeks. Impossible to tell what he was thinking. Then he looked up, smiling again, and said, "So, I have an idea."

"That sounds terrible," Song Lan said, flat, and Xue Yang laughed. He would only try and persuade Xiao Xingchen of it if shut down, Song Lan supposed. "Tell me, then."

"I'll show you. It's back down in the basin." He widened his eyes in a show of innocence that wasn't remotely convincing. Song Lan could remember him doing it at Chang Manor, with the blood of his victims dried onto the floor. "Come on."

"You're still damp. Dry out, at least. You'll grow mould."

"I could grow my own mushrooms," Xue Yang said. "Disgusting." But he huddled down in front of the fire, and took his boots off to rest his toes on the hot stones. His head turned as Song Lan moved about the campsite, clearly not trusting him not to succumb to temptation if he saw Xue Yang unawares.

Song Lan was not entirely sure he'd trust himself, come to that. After so many years under someone else's control, perhaps it wasn't surprising he wasn't entirely confident of his own. One well-timed stroke could have Xue Yang's head off his skinny neck.

Xue Yang extracted a comb from his sleeve and began to take down his hair, grimacing at the feel of it. Song Lan could empathise there. He didn't think his hair had been properly dry since the rain started. He settled on the other side of the embers and watched in silence as Xue Yang smoothed out and rebraided his hair. Xue Yang used to comb his hair sitting on the steps in the courtyard of the coffin house, in the afternoon when the sunlight hit it; Song Lan would watch him in frozen silence, waiting for Xue Yang to say -

"You want yours done?" Xue Yang said, a wicked grin crossing his face. "Like old times."

"Fuck you," Song Lan said, and got up. He had no clue if being kept neat and clean had been a mercy or simply an outgrowth of Xue Yang's own vanity. He'd been proud of Song Lan as a project; he could pass for a living human if the inspection was not too close.

"Fire's about done, I'm not getting any drier," Xue Yang said, throwing his wet hair back. "Fly or walk?"

They walked down the slope, a careful distance between them, keeping each other in peripheral vision the whole way. Then they rode their swords into the centre of the basin, keeping low and skirting the herd of gigantic beasts, who stood foursquare and turned their long necks to watch them pass.

Xue Yang drifted a little closer, and said, "Do you think anything hunts them?"

Song Lan stared at the sheer size of the things. They were as hard to conceptualise as the length of time it would take for the stars to move, but they were right there. He tried to picture something big enough to hunt one, and winced. "I hope not," he said fervently, and Xue Yang laughed.

"Well, at least we'd notice, right? We couldn't exactly overlook them."

"Unless they were pack animals," Song Lan said. "Wolves can take down oxen."

"Oh, true." Xue Yang looked at them again. "They'd still have to be... very big. Enough to eat us in one bite, probably."

"Stop borrowing trouble. Where are we going?"

"Almost there," Xue Yang said, and Song Lan looked ahead, to an odd, twisted copse, spreading out from the centre of the basin. There were few actual trees there, he realised as they closed in; they were tangled with some kind of thick creeper or bush.

He still hadn't figured out what it was when he dismounted from his sword, and looked down at the rock he stood by to find that it was a skull the size of his torso gazing up at him with empty sockets.

"Xue Yang," he said, flat with annoyance, and Xue Yang looked over at him, eyebrows arching. "What is this?"

The trees weren't choked by creepers; the smooth, curved shapes that rose from the mud were bones, a ribcage that a person could walk into. And by the looks of it, there was more than one.

At least the bones weren't fresh. He had no idea if Xue Yang could slaughter one of those beasts, and he didn't want to find out.

"It's a... graveyard, I suppose," Xue Yang said, squishing ahead, his head swivelling back and forth as he tried to keep Song Lan in sight and watch where he was going. "I don't know if they come here to die or something moves their corpses, but I counted at least a dozen skulls."

"More than ten thousand years before people exist and you've found a charnel house," Song Lan said sourly. He picked his way after Xue Yang with some reluctance. They were just animal bones, of course, and yet...

He eyed Xue Yang, and wondered what he could do with these dead. Once he would have said nothing but he was trying to avoid underestimating him. Too late, if he had already walked into a trap.

But Xue Yang just stooped, and with a grunt of effort hoisted an enormous bone, propping it up on one end. It was just slightly taller than him; Xue Yang rocked up onto the balls of his feet, but sank further into the mud, and Song Lan felt his mouth twitch.

"What do you intend to do with that," he said. "If you're planning to make glue, I think we should start with something smaller." Xue Yang rolled his eyes, and laughed a little hiccup that might have been scorn or amusement.

"There are lots of them," like that was an answer. Perhaps, in his head, it was. Xue Yang sighed, pointedly, and said, "We don't even have to cut them, Song Lan, and bone's got to be about as tough as wood, right?"

Song Lan looked at the bone with new eyes. Each end was enlarged, so they wouldn't lie flush against each other, but the gaps would be small enough not to admit most dangerous animals. And they could always stuff the gaps. And it was better than nothing, which was what they had now. It would take them a long time to cut trees of a comparable size down.

And the curved rib bones could be used to support a porch roof to cover the fire. He expressed that opinion, and Xue Yang nodded, smiling.

"And we can mount the skulls on poles to warn off the other dinosaurs," he said. He might have been joking.

"I don't think we'll do that," Song Lan said firmly, and Xue Yang sighed.

"It's worth a try," he said, but didn't press the issue, and let Song Lan divert the conversation to how they were going to get the damn things back. They had to weigh as much as Xue Yang; he didn't even attempt to balance one on his sword. That was left to Song Lan, ferrying giant bones back and forth while Xue Yang searched them out in the undergrowth.

The ribs were lighter, at least. As the sun began to lower, Xue Yang made a last appeal for a skull, and brightly suggested they could make bowls out of skulls.

"No," Song Lan said. "That sounds disgusting."

"You're so boring," Xue Yang said, but for a change he let it drop, and took his armful of ribs onto his sword, skimming back not too high over the basin floor.

When they got back to camp, Xue Yang began to push the bones about, humming to himself, and Song Lan said, "Why are you limping?"

"Stepped on a rock funny, fuck off," Xue Yang said, and he turned his whole back on Song Lan, which was highly suspicious. Song Lan walked round to peer at him, and Xue Yang shied back and bared his teeth. His face was flushed and sweating, more than the effort should have caused.

"Is it the mushroom?" Song Lan said. Xue Yang glared at him, breathing heavily, and said, "Nothing's wrong, you busybody. Stick your stupid nose back up Xiao Xingchen's ass and keep it out of mine."

"Go and sit down, we need to build the fire soon," Song Lan said, and stretched out an arm with the vague intention of herding Xue Yang back to the fire stones.

Xue Yang drew his dagger, and Song Lan recoiled sharply, reaching for his sword. He had a moment to call himself an idiot for forgetting just how casually violent Xue Yang could be, and then noted that Xue Yang didn't gesture towards him with it, just stood there, eyes slightly unfocused but still glaring.

"Don't fucking - touch me," he said, like Song Lan wanted to touch him, gross and sweaty and murderous. "I'm going. I need to get into cover before dark."

It was deeply, deeply tempting to let him stagger out into the wilderness and get eaten by a pack of oversized lizards. It wouldn't be Song Lan's fault at all; he'd tried to help, and got a dagger waved at him. Xiao Xingchen would assure him he'd done all he could if they found Xue Yang torn apart in the morning. Xiao Xingchen would grieve, no doubt, but it was a fate Xue Yang had both brought on himself and justly deserved, and without him, the two of them could search for some balance in this strange world, live a life of companionship together.

"One minute you're concerned about how fragile Xiao Xingchen's soul is, the next you're ready to drop dead," he said. "Haven't you taken enough from him? Do you have to hurt him even more?"

Xue Yang's eyes went big and surprised; he rocked back on his heels, and seemed to consider it for a moment, very serious, before hauling his scowl back on. "I'm not going to die," he said. "I'm a fucking cultivator, I just need a little time."

"Well, you can spend it here," Song Lan said, and when Xue Yang looked ready to argue, he tugged a signal talisman from his sleeve and sent it up.

"Oh, you fucker," Xue Yang snarled, and Song Lan shrugged.

"If you're going to die, I plan on doing it, he said, and to his surprise Xue Yang's laugh sounded genuinely amused at that.

Xiao Xingchen flew down on his sword minutes later, and looked surprised to see them both there. Song Lan said, "I think the mushroom got Xue Yang," and Xue Yang said, "It's not the fucking mushroom, idiot."

Xiao Xingchen stepped in close, ignoring the dagger; Xue Yang hastily put it back into his sleeve and tried to push Xiao Xingchen's hands away, but Xiao Xingchen felt his forehead and his pulse and then his wrist, and said, "What happened?"

"Nothing," Xue Yang said sullenly, and yanked his wrist away, as if it weren't the first time Xiao Xingchen had laid willing hands on him since his death and rebirth. "Don't fuss, you know I hate it."

"Go and sit down, we'll start the fire and get a tisane into you," Xiao Xingchen said. "Maybe an emetic?"

"Not the fucking mushroom," Xue Yang said, as he let Xiao Xingchen steer him to the campfire site. "Something bit me, all right, I'm dealing with it."

Well, that explained the limp. "Right leg, I think," Song Lan said, and ignored the glare Xue Yang shot at him. He crouched to light the fire as Xiao Xingchen flicked Xue Yang's robes into his lap, and rolled up the leg of his inner clothes, revealing a black and red swelling that stretched from ankle to knee, tight and shiny. Song Lan said, incredulous, "How were you even walking on that?"

"I'm going to take your fucking tongue again," Xue Yang said, teeth bared in a crazed smile, and Xiao Xingchen said, "Xue Yang, behave yourself."

Xue Yang tried to get up, and Xiao Xingchen held him in place with one hand until he gave up struggling and just slumped, panting.

"It needs a poultice," Xiao Xingchen said. "Stay right here, Xue Yang. If you leave, I will chase you down and drag you back here, you understand?" Xue Yang smiled, false-sweet, and Xiao Xingchen sighed. He glanced at Song Lan, and clearly thought better of asking him for help. He swept away, leaving the two of them together.

"Come near me and I'll stab you," Xue Yang said.

"You couldn't," Song Lan said. "You probably can't even stand. Just stay where you are and if you don't piss me off I'll let you live." He observed with dark amusement how much this seemed to annoy Xue Yang; he got his expression under control, and smiled. Strained for a second, and then it loosened into something more genuine.

"Song Lan," he cooed spitefully. "Always taking such good care of me. My own favourite fierce corpse. I liked you better when you didn't have a will of your own, but I guess you still don't, huh? You just do what Xiao Xingchen wants."

It really was astonishing how deep Xue Yang's malice ran. Was he even aware that playing a little bit helpless would get him infinitely more sympathy from Xiao Xingchen? Hadn't they met when Xue Yang was severely injured? He must know that compassion was one of Xiao Xingchen's most powerful urges. Instead he lashed out like a trapped animal, wanting only his den to lick his wounds until he healed or died. A rabid animal, too far gone to recognise kindness.

Song Lan didn't reply, and Xiao Xingchen came back with his hands full of leaves, explaining that the smell seemed right, and they weren't irritating, so he hoped they'd serve to draw some of the poison out.

"Although it would have worked better as soon as you were bitten," he said reproachfully, fishing out his mortar and pestle. Xue Yang shrugged.

"We were busy," he said, and Xiao Xingchen's gaze flicked to the piled-up bones. He didn't ask, but used a bandage to wrap a pack of squashed plant matter around Xue Yang's leg before starting on the tisane.

"It's cooling plants; they'd help you fight off - well, if it's like snakebite, it'll help." He brushed his fingertips over Xue Yang's red brow again. "Yes, you're very hot, it must be like snakebite."

Xue Yang drank the tisane, and then he tried to get up again. Xiao Xingchen said, "Go and lie down," and Xue Yang said, "I'm going to."

"In the cave" Xiao Xingchen said. "You're in no state - "

"Right, except maybe Song Lan thinks it over and decides it's time for me to die, and you've promised not to stop him, so - "

"Little friend," Xiao Xingchen interrupted, and Xue Yang stopped talking, and stared at Xiao Xingchen, eyes suddenly wide and plaintive. "You're safe here tonight. Song Lan won't hurt you. I promise. Go and lie down."

Xue Yang bit down on his lower lip, chewed it for a second, brow furrowed as if in deep thought. Then, wordless, he turned and stumbled into the cave, dropping to his knees and then prone. Xiao Xingchen tutted, and got up to spread his blanket over Xue Yang, who didn't so much as twitch.

"I'm sorry," he said, when he came back to the fire, and Song Lan shrugged. "I shouldn't have spoken for you - "

"It's all right," Song Lan said. "If I didn't agree, I would have said so." He tried a a smile. "We usually agree, you know."

"I... am very glad to hear that," Xiao Xingchen said. "But still, I shouldn't take it for granted, especially not - " He shook his head. "I shouldn't - "

"Xiao Xingchen," Song Lan said, and Xiao Xingchen fell silent, his head tilting towards Song Lan with grave attention. "I know... perhaps your choices weren't always as wise as they could have been. But you made them out of love and compassion. I don't blame you for them. I only ever did for a few days, when I was - " he swallowed. "I was wrong."

"Oh, my friend," Xiao Xingchen said, and his eyes glimmered in the firelight. "It's kind of you to say so, but so much evil came of my choices; how can I say I meant well and expect to be excused?"

"What else could you do?" Song Lan demanded. "What, should we all walk past the injured and helpless in case they turn out to be our enemies, and wreak a brutal revenge? Would that make the world safer or better?"

"I could have at least asked his name," Xiao Xingchen said, bitterly. "I should have known that if he meant well, he would have told me."

"And what? He would have lied." Probably, Song Lan amended. It was entirely possible even a severely wounded Xue Yang would announce himself to see what would happen; but there was a good chance that would have just brought a tragic end a few years sooner. Xiao Xingchen was by far the stronger cultivator, but his blindness had left him vulnerable and Xue Yang was a master of targeting vulnerabilities. "How could you possibly have predicted Xue Yang's behaviour? He acts without proportion or restraint."

Xiao Xingchen ducked his head, his dark hair falling down over his shoulder. He said. "It's strange. Looking back, I can see some of... Xue Yang in my little friend. But there was so much that made it an inconceivable idea. It still seems that way. I don't understand how he could have lived by me all those years without ever slipping up."

Song Lan had nothing to say to that; Xue Yang was volatile and goading. But it was disturbing how quickly his malice could blow out, leaving an apparently sincere good mood. It wasn't as if they'd known Xue Yang before capturing him; how could Xiao Xingchen have known him when they met again? Song Lan didn't know what to make of him even now.

Xiao Xingchen got up and went to check on Xue Yang; he damped a cloth and wiped his face, and Xue Yang muttered, "Daozhang," and clutched at his robe. Xiao Xingchen sighed, and stroked his hair until he settled back into his restless sleep. Xiao Xingchen unpinned his hair and combed it out with his fingers, laying it gently back from Xue Yang's damp face.

"Will he recover?" Song Lan said, as neutrally as he could, and Xiao Xingchen looked up at him.

"Oh yes, I think so. Xue Yangs's cultivation is not high, but his vitality is very strong. If not, he probably wouldn't have survived long enough for me to find him on the road." He managed a smile at Song Lan. "You might as well sleep, if you're tired. I'll stay on watch."

Song Lan glanced at Xiao Xingchen's hand, his slender fingers still carding through the loose fall of hair. Xue Yang, face slack and flushed, looked entirely unfamiliar.

Xiao Xingchen settled by the fire again, and Song Lan lay down at a careful distance, so Xue Yang wouldn't kick or clutch at in his fever-sleep. He would certainly react violently to Xue Yang's touch, and Xiao Xingchen had promised, after all. Song Lan would not make a liar out of him.

He woke, some time later; the fire had dimmed, and Xue Yang's face was tucked into his arm, only the curve of his cheek and the tumble of his hair visible. He lay very still, and Song Lan stared for a long moment before he saw a tiny hitch of breathing.

When he sat up, he saw that Xiao Xingchen was on his feet, Shuanghua in hand. Song Lan rose quietly, and went to him. Xiao Xingchen inclined his head forward slightly, not moving, and Song Lan followed his gaze.

"They're getting bolder," he said. One of the animals was there, within the light of the fire, and behind it there were more shapes moving. For the first time he had a good view, and he looked at the long, heavy tail, the head that seemed mostly jaw.The skin was oddly textured, not quite scales, with a band of bristling quills down the spine, thickening over the tail.

The eyes were - they were just eyes, but Song Lan didn't like them. The animal reminded him, just a bit, of a spiritual beast; it knew things that true animals did not. It looked at his eyes as if it knew there was another intelligence in him.

It took a step forward. Xiao Xingchen brought Shuanghua up to guard, and the animal cocked its head, stared. It had likely never seen a weapon, did not understand a threat.

Song Lan stepped a little aside from Xiao Xingchen, and extended his arms, shaking out his sleeves. He was a large man, and his draperies made him look larger, but who knew what their usual prey looked like? Perhaps it was those tree-eaters, easily the size of a man. For now, it seemed to do the trick; as if an alarm had been sounded, all the shapes whirled and darted off into the darkness, unified as a flock of sparrows wheeling in the autumn sky.

"I suppose they're not used to fire being like this," Xiao Xingchen said. "I mean - tame. They'll know to be afraid of wildfires, but this..."

"They're testing us," Song Lan said, and Xiao Xingchen nodded. "Well. Hopefully, that's it for tonight. You want to sleep?"

Xiao Xingchen gave him an apologetic look, and said, "I trust you, but..."

"Right." Song Lan sighed. Xue Yang would not react well to finding out he'd been left vulnerable. "Well, I can get caught up, unless you want company?"

"No, sleep." His mouth quirked. "I may want a few extra hours tomorrow night to make up."

Song Lan lay back down, checking that Xue Yang's body was still making the small motions of breathing; he closed his eyes, and heard Xiao Xingchen moving around, the sound of him wiping Xue Yang's face clean again. A discontented whimper, and Xiao Xingchen soothing him back to sleep.

He didn't know if they'd been lovers. He thought they had; certainly, Xue Yang had treated body and spirit with intense tenderness, however harsh his words became. But Xue Yang didn't seem to set his feelings by those of others. His obsessions could very well be forged in his own delusions. Xiao Xingchen's tenderness was no sign, either; Song Lan had seen him wipe dirt from a strange child's face with just as much care. He could ask. Xiao Xingchen would not lie to him.

Would Xiao Xingchen have been angrier if Xue Yang had taken that advantage, too? Or was the scale of his hurt an indication of how deep that betrayal had been?

Song Lan drifted into muddled dreams, and woke again to morning light, and Xue Yang's voice croaking, "Daozhang?"

He opened his eyes, and Xue Yang was peering at him, eyes huge and dark beneath his tumble of hair, fully dry for the first time in days. It had dried fluffy and wild, and Song Lan felt his lips twitch with amusement. Xue Yang's mouth formed a petulant little pout, and he looked around and said, "Daozhang?" in a plaintive voice.

Song Lan remembered, in vivid detail, the sight of blood on his shifu's body; dried blood, days old; dark sticky blood, hours old; and fresh blood, from wounds inflicted recently. A kind old man, tortured for days, just to drive Song Lan near-mad, so he in turn would lash out at a good man. He held the image in his mind as he watched Xue Yang push his tangle of hair back and blink his big dark eyes.

"Drink some water," Xiao Xingchen said, and he came over and crouched beside Xue Yang, gently supporting his head and holding a cup to his lips. Xue Yang let out a tiny sigh and leaned into the hand, eyes fluttering closed as he drank. "How do you feel?"

Xue Yang blinked a few times, and Song Lan watched, fascinated, as focus returned to his eyes, his soft mouth taking on a harsher set. Even his cheekbones seemed to sharpen. He shook free of Xiao Xingchen's hands, and pushed himself to sitting.

"I'm fine," he said, and cleared his throat, shook his head. He ran his fingers through his hair, attempting to order it. "Where are my hair pins?"

"I have them. You should rest." Xiao Xingchen sat back, clearly expecting it as Xue Yang got up and stumbled to the cave mouth. Xiao Xingchen looked at Song Lan, who rolled his eyes, and sat up.

"Breakfast?" he said.

"I can go find eggs," Xue Yang said, standing in the cave mouth, tugging at his robe.

"Not today," Xiao Xingchen said. "I want you to stay here today, Xue Yang, stay dry and warm."

"I'm fine," Xue Yang said, and then sat down quite abruptly next to the fire.

"You can help me make cord," Xiao Xingchen said, which attracted Xue Yang's attention. While the rice cooked, Xiao Xingchen showed them both how to roll cord out of the pith he'd collected from bark. "It's not the strongest, but it's good enough," he said. "We can use it to make bags and hold things together; maybe even bind some logs together to make a sleeping platform. It'll be very cold sleeping on the ground in winter."

"We can use it to tie the bones together," Xue Yang said, rolling it in his hands. At least he was sitting still now.

"Why do we have all these bones?" Xiao Xingchen said, mildly, and Song Lan explained about his plans for their new wall. Xiao Xingchen considered that, and then said, "They have a graveyard? How interesting."

"Well, maybe," Xue Yang said, focused on his busy hands. "Or maybe when it floods the bones all get floated there. Or a giant predator drags their bodies there to chew on." Then he said, "No, there'd be more bite marks on the bones, right?"

Song Lan couldn't recall seeing anything more than shallow scrapes on the bones; a carcass of that size was surely a feast for scavengers. The point was moot; they'd have to keep an eye out for a dead beast, and see what happened to it. Surely even here they'd notice the noise of the banquet, the sky full of spiralling birds and lizard-birds waiting for their chance to snatch mouthfuls without becoming a mouthful.

After breakfast, Xiao Xingchen laid his hand on Xue Yang's knee. "Will you stay here while I get a few hours sleep?"

"Fine," Xue Yang said, focused on his cord. He was a little clumsy with it, his fingers not as deft as Song Lan knew they could be; he was still flushed and miserable looking. He didn't look up to see the softness in Xiao Xingchen's dark eyes as he watched, just said, "I said fine, daozhang. Go and sleep."

Xiao Xingchen looked at Song Lan, a touch of guilt returning to his expression; Song Lan just nodded. Xue Yang didn't seem inclined to talk, which made him tolerable company.

Song Lan sat, his fingers working rhythmically over the bark, his mind drifting in and out of light meditation. The rain fell gently on the muddy ground, the angle of the wind keeping it mostly away from them, and only Xue Yang's rough breathing disturbed the peace of nature.

After a time, Xue Yang set down his cord, and said, "Where's the shovel?"

"Xiao Xingchen has it. Why?"

"I was going to start digging for the wall."

"You're not even sitting upright," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang frowned, and straightened from his list. "You're worrying Xiao Xingchen. Can't you just stay put?"

"He wouldn't have to be worrying if he'd let me leave," Xue Yang said childishly. He was very flushed; Song Lan was sure his skin would be hot to the touch. "Anyway, why should he worry?"

"He doesn't want you to die," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang's pout deepened. His eyes were glassy. "Go and get some more sleep."

"So you can kill me? No thanks."

Song Lan pinched his brow, debated pointing out that he could probably execute Xue Yang before Xue Yang even noticed he'd drawn his sword right now, and then said. "Go and sleep by Xiao Xingchen. You can't possibly think I'd wake him up by covering him with your blood."

Xue Yang's brow furrowed as he chewed that one over. He seemed to concede Song Lan's point, because he dragged himself slowly to his feet, and went and collapsed by Xiao Xingchen, not quite touching him. After a second, Xiao Xingchen mumbled, "Little friend?" and threw his arm over Xue Yang, and Xue Yang pushed closer with a tiny noise.

Song Lan looked away, and began to twist another length of cord. He thought of his shifu. The librarian, who had been in his role only a few years and was delighted when Song Lan brought home new books he'd found on his travels. The youngest children, who were mostly an undiffentiated mass of smiling faces and demands for stories. He couldn't match names to faces, couldn't even clearly remember their faces, to his shame. The older ones were more distinct; A-Li, who never asked for stories but always appeared when one was being told. A-Ying, who wrote so beautifully at twelve that he already had his work sent as gifts on behalf of the temple. A-Huan, who was quiet and dutiful and reminded Song Lan a little of himself. All dead, and Song Lan had blamed Xiao Xingchen because his own guilt seared him.

But the responsibility, as Xue Yang had said with his cruel indifference, belonged solely to Xue Yang. If the two of them had made unwise choices, it was Xue Yang who had ensured they paid prices beyond reason.

Xue Yang, sleeping restlessly under the light weight of Xiao Xingchen's arm, and Xiao Xingchen wouldn't speak a word of blame if he woke to the spatter of hot blood on his face, Xue Yang sinking into a death more peaceful than any of his victims'.

Xiao Xingchen, with blood like tears on his snow-white face. Blood on his white throat and slim hands.

Song Lan wound more cord, looped it into a figure eight, and tied it off.

*

Xue Yang yawned, and curled up tighter. He was warm, almost too warm, and that was good. Xiao Xingchen -

He opened his eyes fast, and found he was lying on the cave floor, Xiao Xingchen's outer robe tucked around him as well as a blanket. He rubbed his cheek against his shoulder, as if it were Xiao Xingchen's shoulder, but though the robe smelled right, it felt wrong; the fine linen of his folk hero days, and not the rougher weave he'd worn in Yi City. Dissatisfied, he sat up and peered towards the light at the cave entrance. Dim and grey, impossible to tell what time it was, but the fire was out. Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan sat like bookends, heads bent over their hands working the pith into cords. They weren't speaking, and Xue Yang couldn't tell if the silence was comfortable or not. Xiao Xingchen usually looked serene, and Song Lan usually looked like a bitch.

Xue Yang draped the robe over Xiao Xingchen's shoulders, and Xiao Xingchen looked up at him. His dark eyes had a softness to them that Xue Yang hadn't seen before; he turned away from it, feeling an uncomfortable tightness in his throat, and said, "Give me the waterskins, I'm going to the stream."

"Let me check you over first," Xiao Xingchen said, and added, "Please," when Xue Yang made to leave. Song Lan gave him a nasty look from under his lashes, and Xue Yang bared his teeth.

He stooped when Xiao Xingchen tugged at his robe, though, and let his forehead and pulse and qi be felt, and only grumbled a little when Xiao Xingchen unpeeled the gross mass of leaves from his leg, which was back to looking like a leg instead of a chunk of oozing meat.

"I want you to drink another tisane so it doesn't get infected," Xiao Xingchen told him, and Xue Yang rolled his eyes.

"It has to last the rest of our lives, Xiao Xingchen, don't use it all up. I won't get infected. I'll go wash it out, all right?"

Xiao Xingchen finally let go of him, and Xue Yang went to wash, irritated with himself, with Xiao Xingchen, and with Song Lan. His hair was loose and untidy, and he was sticky and foul with his fever-sweat. It was tempting to just strip down and bathe himself, but he still felt unpleasantly shivery and Xiao Xingchen would use that fussing tone again if he caught him at it, like Xue Yang was a child.

He filled the waterskins and went back to find them building the fire.

"Song Lan found some eggs when he went for more bark," Xiao Xingchen said. "We thought we'd boil them."

"They were under a pile of dirt, like you said," Song Lan said, which obviously. It wasn't like Xue Yang would have just made that up.

"Hair pins," he said to Xiao Xingchen, who returned them, and he began to put his hair into proper order. Song Lan was watching him again, with a prissy disapproving look; in retrospect, Xue Yang wished he'd let his hair turn into a tangled mess when he was a fierce corpse. See how he liked it.

They peeled half the eggs and ate them, and set the rest aside for morning; Xiao Xingchen made the tisane despite Xue Yang's objections, and while he was drinking it, he said, "You were a much better patient when I found you in a ditch."

"No, I wasn't. You spent the whole time telling me to lie down and rest," Xue Yang said.

"But you were nicer to me," Xiao Xingchen said, and his lips curved in a tentative smile. Xue Yang ducked his head.

"I was trying to get you to trust me, remember?" he said. "Back when I thought it would take effort."

A pause, and then Song Lan said in his dry voice, "Aren't you trying to get us to trust you now?"

"No? You'd have to be stupid. Not that I think you're clever or anything, but you can't be that stupid." Xue Yang eyed him, wondering what was going through his head. Not completely stupid, Song Lan, for all he had strings that were easy to pull. "And it's not like pretending to be sweet and nice would fool you, is it? So why bother?"

"You want us to believe you're not planning to kill or hurt us," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang shrugged.

"That's not trust. That's you knowing what I want and what I'll do to get it."

"Were you pretending, all those years?" Xiao Xingchen said, level, and Xue Yang shrugged again. He wasn't about to talk about that in front of Song Lan, and Song Lan didn't seem inclined to leave them to it.

It had just turned out it was infinitely easier to treat someone nicely when they were being nice to you, was all. He hadn't been himself, but he also hadn't been pretending; it was just... different.

"I'm going to go," he decided, and of course Xiao Xingchen protested. "I want to be back under cover in case those things come back." They exchanged a glance, and Xue Yang said, "They came back?"

"They were here in the night," Xiao Xingchen said. "They seem to be losing their fear of the fire."

"Not great," Xue Yang said. Probably, they couldn't climb trees, but he didn't really want to be caught out by them. He rose, and Xiao Xingchen said, "Xue Yang," in his firmest voice, and then, "Yang'er, please," in a coaxing tone.

Xue Yang's lips parted; he couldn't speak for a moment. No one had ever - he shook off the shock, and said, "You need to sleep, daozhang."

"Then stay awake while he sleeps, and sleep at the same time I do," Song Lan said. "I'm not going to kill you tonight."

Xiao Xingchen looked at him with those strangely soft eyes, and his lips parted; to stop him saying the thing again, Xue Yang sank down, and said, "Fine."

"Thank you," Xiao Xingchen said, like Xue Yang was actually doing him a favour. "I think I'll sleep now; wake me if the animals..."

"Yeah, sure," Xue Yang said. He didn't look at Xiao Xingchen, but he felt the brief touch of a hand on his hair. He stared into the fire, unwilling to meet Song Lan's judgemental stare.

It wasn't as if Xiao Xingchen hadn't touched him before, of course, more intimately and fondly than that. Xiao Xingchen had called him sweet pet names before, too, murmured against his ear, his smile luminous.

It was altogether different to hear it directed at Xue Yang, instead of the nameless little friend, to meet Xiao Xingchen's gaze while he said it. Yang'er, he'd said, like -

Like Xue Yang was a child, as if showing his weakness had sapped the threat from him. Xue Yang bared his teeth at the fire. Unfortunately, there was nothing at all he could do to remind them he was dangerous, not without risking the tiny scraps of goodwill he'd earned.

Song Lan shifted, and Xue Yang spared him a glance. He nudged the stack of bark pieces across the the gap between them, and Xue Yang grabbed up a handful. It wasn't enough to occupy his mind, but it sapped a little of the tension out of him, let him ponder the way Xiao Xingchen had washed his face and taken his pulse, gentle and careful. It had been so long since Xiao Xingchen had touched him; he'd missed it so desperately, holding the cold fingers of the corpse against his cheek, dreaming of the day they'd warm and curl against his skin. It had been just as sweet a feeling as the memory had promised.

Yang'er, he'd said, and Xue Yang wanted to hear it again. Xiao Xingchen had promised he'd try and forgive Xue Yang if they stayed here, and he was living up to that; Xue Yang would do almost anything to keep him at it.

It was several days before the animals reappeared, and they settled into a cautious new routine. Xue Yang would forage up food to accompany their rice, which they ate in ever smaller portions as the supply dwindled; Song Lan dug and built their new porch, with dubiously helpful input from the two of them; and Xiao Xingchen made cord and carved wood and tried different mushrooms, making the reasonable case that he had the strongest golden core of the three of them. Xue Yang didn't like it, and neither did Song Lan, but they couldn't fault his logic.

Xiao Xingchen had vomited twice, and Xue Yang had held his hair and brought him water and buried the mess while Song Lan hovered, wringing his hands ineffectually, unable even to come too close in case the smell set him off. A surprisingly delicate constitution, considering all Xue Yang had put him through.

But the new wall he'd built was pretty good, the big bones buried securely in the earth in a semi-circle, wide enough for them all to sit around the fire. The ribs formed a half-dome overhead. Xue Yang had to concede it looked okay, after climbing up on it and giving it a good shake. He used some of the cord to tie the big horned skull from the other cave at the apex of the arch, which earned him a flat glare from Song Lan and a shake of the head from Xiao Xingchen. But they didn't take it down.

Even the weather had cleared up a bit, though Xue Yang still slept in the cave, at the same times as Song Lan. Xiao Xingchen had called him Yang'er again while talking him into it, and Xue Yang had agreed out of sheer need for the conversation to end.

Song Lan was shitty company, mostly. They made cord, because they'd used a startling amount holding the porch together, and occasionally Song Lan would want to bicker about the moral implications of undoing your actions or whatever. Sometimes he could be drawn into bickering about the mechanics of time travel, which was amusing as there was no actual answer without trying it.

"But," Song Lan said, "If you committed the same murder twice, I don't see that you'd be twice as guilty. He's still just as dead."

"What if I tortured him to death?" Xue Yang said. "Wouldn't that be twice as much - no, wait, if I tortured him to death the first time, but then went back and killed him cleanly, that would be an improvement, right?"

"I suppose it would be a slight improvement," Song Lan said, "But still really bad."

"Yes, I know," Xue Yang said impatiently, "But - " movement caught his eye, and he snapped his fingers, low. Song Lan went stiff, and Xue Yang inclined his head sideways, continuing to speak in the same tone. "Do you see them?"

"No," Song Lan said, and then, "Yes. I think they're coming close to the walls."

The gaps in the bone walls were still open, and now Xue Yang looked, he could see the shapes moving in and out, the occasional bright glimpse of an eye. Claws hooked through one gap, and rattled; the wall stood firm, which was reassuring.

There was a gap in the wall, of course. Song Lan hadn't worked out how to make a door yet. A head peered round it, and Xue Yang said, "You think the wall made them happy to come closer?"

"Maybe," Song Lan said. Xue Yang had no idea what went on in those heads, but they did seem to feel as though the wall was cover for them. "Maybe they're just curious?"

"Feel free to try and make friends," Xue Yang said, and Song Lan grimaced. "We could try feeding them, if you want. Not tonight, we don't have any meat, but - "

"I doubt that's a good idea."

None of them had crossed the threshold, but they were massing outside. Song Lan rose, and drew Fuxue; Xue Yang's fingers slid inside his sleeve, watching Song Lan as he looked warily about him. "We should wake Xiao Xingchen."

"Or I could scare them off," Xue Yang said, and shot a grin up at Song Lan, who spared him a dubious glance.

"If you can," he said. Xue Yang snorted, and let off a signal talisman, directed between the feet of the foremost animal. Their little bone shack flared bright white, even through Xue Yang's closed eyelids, and he heard Song Lan swear, and the shrieking and scrambling of the animals fleeing. Xue Yang laughed.

Behind him, Xiao Xingchen said, "Little friend?" and there was the sound of Shuanghua leaving its sheath.

"Sorry, daozhang, go back to sleep," Xue Yang said, and Song Lan added, "It's fine now," in a voice that was only slightly pissed off. There was a pause; then Xiao Xingchen sheathed his sword and thudded back down again. When he'd settled, Song Lan stared down at him, face blank as it had been when he was a fierce corpse, Fuxue held low. He said quietly, "Warn me if you're going to do that."

"I said I'd scare them. What did you think I was going to do, shout 'boo' at them?"

"I never know what you're going to do."

"Thank you," Xue Yang said, with his best beaming smile, and Song Lan gave him a narrow-eyed look. He raised Fuxue with the relaxed grip that meant he was sheathing it, but Xue Yang didn't let his attention drift until it was safely away, and Song Lan was settling back down.

"Xue Yang," he said after a moment, when Xue Yang was reaching for his half-twisted cord. Song Lan didn't look away from the fire. "Don't snap your fingers at me."

"It can't do anything to you," Xue Yang said.

"I don't like it." His jaw flexed; Song Lan was having an emotion. Xue Yang glanced back towards the sleeping heap of Xiao Xingchen, as a reminder why he was putting up with this.

"Sure," he said, and the frown subsided to its usual level. Song Lan had been a great fierce corpse, but his company as a living being was of very variable quality. Much better when not having emotions. Xue Yang said, "Hey, you know how to make paper?" on the grounds that Song Lan relaying useful information was significantly less annoying.

"Yes," he said, to Xue Yang's mild surprise, "But it used specialised tools."

"Of course it does. Doesn't everything?"

"We could mash tree bark, but we'd need a fine screen to spread it on, and then something to flatten it, and a sort of…" Song Lan made a vague gesture. "They had a sort of… wheel, they used to make it very flat and thin, suitable for books or talismans."

"You know, I always thought other people were a waste of valuable space, but it turns out they have their uses," Xue Yang said, and got frowned at. "When did you learn how to make paper?"

Song Lan didn't answer that for a little while, frowning down at his cord although it was clearly doing just fine. Eventually he said, "The temple used quite a lot of paper - we would copy books. I went with my shifu once to the papermill."

Ah. He'd tortured that guy to death. But Song Lan kept talking. "They made paper out of all kinds of things - rags and old netting and plants - but it was making it white and fine and flat that was difficult, needed tools. We could make bad paper, but it wouldn't be very reliable for talismans, I think. And we'd need ink, too. At least pens are easy to carve."

"Maybe I could try talismans on other surfaces," Xue Yang said idly. "Those animals have skin, maybe thin leather would work."

"Do you think the signal talismans will keep working on them?" Song Lan said, and Xue Yang made a face.

"Seems unlikely. We'll probably get a couple more goes before they realise they're not getting hurt. They stopped being wary of fire quickly. Better get that door up… though I don't know how long that'll last, either." He eyed Song Lan, considering, and then said, "Might end up having to just kill them."

"I'm not even sure how many there are," Song Lan said. "At least a dozen. In fact, I think there were more tonight than there were the first time we saw them."

"You think they're getting reinforcements?" Song Lan lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "I have no idea if that's possible. Do wolves do that shit? But these aren't wolves anyway."

"Did you have to deal with wild animals in Yi City?" Song Lan asked. "Before… when you and Xiao Xingchen lived there." That was the first time he'd asked about that time; at least, asked Xue Yang. For all he knew they'd talked about it for hours when he wasn't there.

"Not really. It had been cultivated and farmed for centuries, there. Barely enough wilderness to forage in, much less sustain a wolf pack or a bear. We once spent a whole day trekking out after a horrible demonic beast that turned out to be someone's huge fucking pig that had got out and was tearing shit up. A magnificent triumph, we took a shitload of pork home, though it probably wouldn't make a good song. Maybe it would make a funny song. You should have seen Xiao Xingchen's face; he was so confused. Not a sliver of resentful energy in the place but he could hear it squealing. He shook Shuanghua like it was broken. Almost got trampled."

"How did he defeat it?" Song Lan said, and Xue Yang shrugged.

"Oh, I did it. It was big and mean but just a pig; Jiangzai took its head off in one swing. Xiao Xingchen poked its corpse for a bit and said it had some kind of abscess that was making it crazy. He said it was a shame we had to kill it, but we did get all that pork. I wonder what those things taste like?" Song Lan looked quizzical, and Xue Yang said, "The animals trying to eat us, Song-daozhang."

"You want to eat them back?" Song Lan said. "Predators don't usually have tasty meat."

"Too bad, they're a good size. I bet Xiao Xingchen would say killing a tree-eater is wasteful, unless we figure out… salt meat?"

"We might be able to smoke it," Song Lan said, doubtfully.

It was a pointless conversation, overall, but it kept them occupied and not arguing until Xiao Xingchen woke up for his turn on watch, and Xue Yang and Song Lan retreated to their separate sides of the cave to sleep.

The days settled into rhythms; you could get used to anything. They ate. They strengthened their little camp's defences. They stuffed the gaps in the walls with moss and turf, which wasn't much good for defence but did keep out the drafts. They got rained on most days and steamed gently around the fire. Xue Yang didn't bitch out Song Lan, and Song Lan kept his snide remarks mostly under control. Xue Yang, under the guise of foraging, carved out an hour or so a day to go over his notes, and work on altering the ritual. Song Lan eyed him with suspicion, sometimes, when he came back late, but he liked having Xue Yang out of his hair way too much to actually ask.

It would be nice if he repaid the favour by fucking off for a bit. Xue Yang hardly got any time with just Xiao Xingchen. If he woke before Song Lan, he could steal a few minutes at midnight or dawn, sitting close to him. Sometimes, if Xiao Xingchen had the soft look in his eyes, Xue Yang would twine their fingers together, and Xiao Xingchen didn't stop him, though he'd let go when Song Lan woke up.

Sometimes he was chill and distant, but that was fine too. Xue Yang had gone long years without so much as the flutter of an eyelash; just seeing Xiao Xingchen frown made his heart swell with pride and triumph.

It wasn't Yi City, but Xue Yang didn't feel the need to change much. It would be better, of course, if they'd just let him take them back, and he could actually fix all the shit they were mad about, but it would do. Second best would be if Song Lan let them send him back, and Xiao Xingchen could just forget about him, but Xue Yang wasn't very optimistic about that. Song Lan looked at Xiao Xingchen as if he were the only star in the sky. Annoying, but it wasn't as if Xue Yang wasn't used to sharing Xiao Xingchen's attention.

They saw footprints, sometimes, but the animals didn't reappear. Xiao Xingchen took the optimistic view that they'd been scared off for good. Xue Yang raised an eyebrow at Song Lan, and he made the face that meant no but I'm not going to say it so Xue Yang didn't say it either.

It seemed like forever, but was probably about two weeks when there was a clear, pearly dawn, not a single cloud from horizon to horizon, blue sky rising with the sun. They spent that day drying and airing all their damp clothes, and when the next morning dawned bright and clear as well, Xue Yang announced his intention to do some more exploring.

"East, away from the forest," he said. "I'll find some more eggs, maybe, we're having to look harder close to home."

"Let's all go," Xiao Xingchen said, and they bickered idly over their breakfast about whether or not it was safe to leave their camp, finally concluding that they'd just have to see what happened, and if the animals dismantled the whole thing, well, it was valuable information on their behaviour.

Song Lan didn't seem impressed by the reasoning, but he was unwilling to let them go off alone, presumably worried Xue Yang would do something. Kidnap Xiao Xingchen and carry him off to a different cave, maybe, or forcibly drag him back through time.

He wasn't quite sure what would happen if he did drag Xiao Xingchen back to that day in Yueyang, to the young Song Lan who didn't know enough to hate him. This Song Lan being stuck alone with all the lizards, or blinking out of existence, would probably make Xiao Xingchen very annoyed indeed, so he wasn't going to do that. Really, he was making good progress with Xiao Xingchen; no point taking stupid risks.

Now that he was sleeping dry at night, and Song Lan wasn't actually frothing for his death, it wasn't too bad.

They packed up all their goods into qiankun pouches, just in case. The very worst any camp invaders could do was tear down their bone wall and scatter their reeds, which would be a nuisance but not the worst. Then they flew their swords out to the pool where Xue Yang did his fishing, and proceeded east from there, flying over the squishy delta before dismounting to walk east. It was still very early, the sky smudged dark behind them, but the air smelled fresh and green, the turf wet enough to be springy but not waterlogged.

"The sky is so blue, like blue they use on porcelain," he told Xiao Xingchen, and Song Lan shot him a baffled glance. Right, not blind.

"What are we hoping to find?" Song Lan said, and Xiao Xingchen looked at Xue Yang.

"I was just bored," Xue Yang said, and Song Lan looked at him with that flat mouth that meant he was unimpressed. "But as we're here, we should keep an eye out for mushrooms, eggs..." he considered. "Anything that looks like rice plants, I guess. Animals that look like they could feed three people for a couple of days. More caves, in case we need to move. Fruit, maybe? Oh! Animals with fur. Xiao Xingchen, do you know how to make fur from a furry animal?"

"Yes, actually."

"But it takes specialised tools?" Xue Yang guessed, and Xiao Xinchen gave him a look that was unfairly cool.

"There are specialised knives for cleaning the flesh from the pelt, but your surgical kit will probably suffice." Xue Yang assembled a joke, and then dismissed it; Xiao Xingchen's sense of humour still wasn't what it used to be. "They need to be stretched to dry, but that should be simple enough. I think."

"Well, now all we need is the animal," Xue Yang said. "So keep your eyes open." He didn't say peeled out of consideration for their feelings, but Song Lan looked faintly suspicious, like he'd somehow sensed the thought. "Would you recognise a tea plant? I've never really looked at them."

Xiao Xingchen was confident in his ability to identify tea, at least. If the stuff even existed.

"What is that," Song Lan said, and they swivelled to follow his pointing finger. The answer was, clearly, an absolutely giant fucker. If he'd seen it a few weeks ago it would be hands down the biggest animal he'd ever seen, but it was still a solid second. It was also walking on two legs, like the smaller pack lizards, with grabby little hands in front and a huge tail swinging back and forth.

"We should go and look," Xue Yang said. "Look, it looks fluffy! Maybe it has fur."

"We should give it a wide berth," Song Lan said because he was boring. Xiao Xingchen looked a little wistful. "It might follow us back," Song Lan added, which settled Xiao Xingchen's view.

"We have enough problems without searching for more," he said, which was unfair because no one had searched for that thing, it had just shown up.

"Xiao Xingchen," he said, plaintively, and gave him the best big-eyed pleading look he was capable of. He caught a strange noise from Song Lan, and whipped his head round, but Song Lan had looked away, apparently more interested in the scrubby forest than the giant fucking monster.

"Keep walking," Xiao Xingchen said, and he was pressing his lips together in the way that meant he was trying not to smile. Well, that was something, at least. Maybe on the way back they could check it out a little closer.

"I wonder what happened to all these creatures," Song Lan said. "They all just... died?"

"Maybe they're an early stage of spiritual development," Xiao Xingchen said. "Souls pass up and down the ranks of living beings; perhaps it was necessary for them to reach a certain stage of maturity before there could be people."

"An interesting idea," Song Lan said. "Hard to prove either way."

"Imagine," Xue Yang said, "If I'd brought us here and our souls had joined with their previous selves in fuck-off great dragons. That would have been amazing."

There was another brief passage of silence; Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen both made very interesting faces.

"Our robes wouldn't have fitted," Song Lan said, finally and Xue Yang cackled. "Is that... possible?"

"Well, it depends if what we were saying about souls being unable to be duplicated in the same time is true, which it seems to be. But if these are actually little baby souls, then maybe they don't have room to have human souls fitted into them?"

"Wait so - " Song Lan frowned. "So if you took us to, say, ten years before we were born, and we end up in other people's bodies, that will prove that reincarnation happens?"

"I guess," Xue Yang said. "Risky, though, what if my last life was very short and I end up in a baby and can't do the ritual to travel back? Would I die and reincarnate into myself again? Or would I reincarnate as whatever I was due to be after Xue Yang? And if I took someone back with me, they could end up anywhere, and we wouldn't know how to find each other."

"You wouldn't reincarnate," Song Lan said, gaze going flinty, and Xue Yang sighed, and smiled his bright friendly smile, and didn't say well you were a Fierce Corpse who killed hundreds.

"Do you want to talk about reincarnation and time travel, or just insult each other? Because I can do either."

Song Lan looked away, lips pursed, and Xiao Xingchen said, "Time travel seems very risky."

"Most of the fun stuff is," Xue Yang said. "But ending up a baby would not be fun. Probably just safest to travel within our lifetimes, like I meant to."

"How did that happen?" Song Lan said, and Xue Yang hummed, tapped his fingers on his thigh, considered his answer.

"Well, it was the first time it had ever been done, and I really couldn't tell how much power it could take. Like if the past and future are the same and we exist in an endless moment, it shouldn't be that hard to just hop to another moment, right? But if you have to rip the nature of reality apart, then it might take a lot of power. Apparently it takes less than I thought, and I used way too much."

He glanced at Xiao Xingchen, who was watching him with not-quite suspicion. "Would you like to see my notes, daozhang? It's very interesting. See, I started looking at it from the perspective of - "

"Thank you, Xue Yang, but I doubt I'd be able to follow the technical aspects," Xiao Xingchen said hastily, and Xue Yang smiled at him.

"I'd like to see them," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang shrugged, deliberately casual.

"Sure, if you want. You can tell me how much of it is basic daoist concepts. Probably you could have invented it yourself if you weren't busy saving the world or whatever." Then he said, "Are we running out of ground?"

That was quite enough distraction for the other two. They were walking towards a cliff edge; and beyond that, there was the sea, going on forever, making a racket like the world's biggest broom sweeping back and forth, slapping against the rock face. Even the air smelled different, a crisp breeze that yanked at the two daoshi's billowy robes until they looked more like kites than people.

"We can't be near the sea," Song Lan said, staring out at the horizon, and then, "We can't be in Yueyang. You must have moved us."

"Well, maybe," Xue Yang said, trying not to bristle too obviously. "Or maybe the sea moved. If the stars can, why not the sea?"

"I wonder if there's a beach nearby," Xiao Xingchen said, stepping close to the crumbling edge. He had his sword, of course, but Xue Yang took hold of his elbow and pulled him back just in case a particularly strong gust launched him off the edge. "There are birds - bird-things - nesting all along the cliffs."

"Yeah, let's not scare them, daozhang." Xue Yang eyed them suspiciously. They were a lot of them up top, formed into - not mobs, exactly, not clustered together like crows or starlings. But they were all spread out along the edge of the cliff, staying at careful distances from each other. When one would hop a few paces, the others would hop, keeping their distance, rippling through the mass of small bodies. They kept their weird batlike wings extended, and sometimes they'd hop from foot to foot, letting out honking noises, and that too would spread through them.

It was weird. Xue Yang didn't like it much; they were small, sure, but there were hundreds of them, and enough starlings could force even an eagle to fuck off.

Song Lan had sat himself down on a convenient rock to watch the sea, indifferent to lizard-bird behaviour. Xue Yang was, for once, inclined to agree with him, but Xiao Xingchen continued to stare.

"Oh, they're displaying," he said, and pointed to a different mob of lizard-birds, an actual mob this time, clustered together watching a honking fit spread through the group. "It must be mating season."

"What, the lady lizard birds just hang around and yell fuck me until one of the boys can get it up?"

"No, no, those - well, if it's anything like birds, those will be the males displaying, and the females choosing a suitable mate."

"Oh. Not like people, then."

"Do you think so?" Xiao Xingchen laughed at him. "You never noticed the young men in Yi City collecting up in gangs, showing off for the maidens who giggled and pretended not to notice?"

"...no," Xue Yang said. Typical of Xiao Xingchen, noticing what all those boring people were about. He couldn't even see them. He cast about for something relevant, and grinned. "But I've seen what the women do in brothels to attract customers. Hopping and yelling, just like that."

Xiao Xingchen raised an eyebrow, and said, "And what were you doing in a brothel, Xue Yang?"

"Working, of course," Xue Yang said, and both eyebrows went up, and Song Lan made a peculiar noise. He wasn't watching the sea any more. "You'd think a man would be in a brothel half an hour, tops, but at the fancy ones there's this whole routine they go through. I spent hours sitting around there waiting for Jin Guangshun. At least there are snacks while you're waiting."

"Oh, I see," Xiao Xingchen said, and laughed like Xue Yang had made a joke. "Snacks, really?"

"Oh yes. Fancy cakes, and wine full of honey, and the women play musical instruments at you and giggle a lot." Brothel women laughed at any joke you made, however bad, just like Xiao Xingchen. He stooped down, and selected a large fern leaf with dozens of fronds, breaking it off at the stem. He held it up like a fan, and batted his lashes at Xiao Xingchen, who let out a startled laugh. "Hopping about," Xue Yang added, and shaped his arms into curves and took a few sliding steps. He'd seen fan dances time after time, applauding them cheerfully partly just to see Jin Guangyao's smile calcify even further as they waited for Jin Guangshun. It wasn't very interesting, but the snacks were good and Jin Guangyao was generous with his tips, which meant they were always fluttered around very enthusiastically. There were worse ways to spend a evening.

The dances weren't exactly complicated; wave your arms, roll your hips, bend your knees and slide your feet. Sway from side to side, shoulders then hips. No doubt Xue Yang lacked grace and elegance and all that, but Xiao Xingchen was laughing. Xue Yang winked at him from behind his fern-fan and then made his expression into perfect maidenly demureness, eyes cast down, mouth just slightly pouting. He brushed the fern down his body, leaning back in an arch deep enough his hair swept the vegetation.

Song Lan had gone back to staring at the sea, flushed pink; probably this sort of talk was too daringly risque for a daoist monk.

Xiao Xingchen let out a breathless little laugh as Xue Yang came back upright, and said, "Well, that's very - impressive. You've been holding out! I'm sure you could have put on a very fine display if you'd wanted."

"No point, daozhang, you're blind," Xue Yang said, and Xiao Xingchen blinked at him. "Were blind," Xue Yang corrected himself, and then laughed. "I bet Little Blind would have given herself away if I'd done that!"

He batted the fern at Xiao Xingchen's face and Xiao Xingchen plucked it from his hand, pink and smiling. His eyes were soft, luminous, looking at Xue Yang like he was precious. Xue Yang would have kissed him, if Song Lan weren't right there; would have kissed him right in front of Song Lan if he hadn't been sure Xiao Xingchen would push him away.

"Perhaps we should go on," Song Lan said, blank-faced again. "The day is getting older."

"Sure." Xue Yang turned to look along the line of the sea. "Looks like the cliffs lower a bit if we go along them, you want to? Song Lan, you ever made a map?"

"...yes," Song Lan conceded, like it pained him. "How far are you planning on going?"

"I don't know. If we're staying here for the rest of our lives, a long way, eventually. Maybe we'll find somewhere better to live, with fewer giant monsters and more... sheep, or whatever."

"Do you think we might find people, somewhere?" Xiao Xingchen said, and Xue Yang shook his head. "Why are you so sure?"

"I'm not sure sure," Xue Yang said. "It just doesn't seem likely. But Song Lan knows about history and stuff, ask him."

"The stars," Song Lan said, reluctantly. "No one seemed to know the stars could move. Someone would have noticed, surely, that the measurements..."

"I see," Xiao Xingchen said. He either didn't try and calculate that, or was unbothered by the depth of time they'd sunk into. "So you think sheep might predate people?"

"Well, it would match what you said about spiritual maturing, if animals had to happen to get the souls up to standard for humans," Xue Yang said. "Although if the big lizards didn't stick around, I don't know why the sheep would. You'd think they'd last better."

"There's a beach," Xiao Xingchen said, pointing. "Let's go down. I've never seen the sea before, you know?"

"I don't see how it can be the sea," Song Lan said, but he flew down with them and said, "Taste it," to Xue Yang.

"Taste what now?" Xue Yang said, eyeing him suspiciously. Song Lan pointed at the water.

"Taste the water. See if it's salt."

"Who cares if it's a lake or a sea, Song Lan?" Xue Yang said impatiently, but he shuffled into the surf and dipped his fingers in, raising them to his mouth. "Salt, all right? Hey, is all seaweed edible?"

"I don't think so," Xiao Xingchen said. Song Lan wrinkled his nose at the water like it had let him down. "We should test it like the mushrooms, probably. If we can find some edible stuff, we can dry it for the winter. Oh! And we can make salt from the water. This is very good news."

Xue Yang smiled back at his pleasure. He didn't really see the point of salting meat - it wasn't wasteful to throw away half a carcass when the scavengers would eat it - but if it made Xiao Xingchen happy, they'd salt a whole fucking dragon.

The cliff had partly tumbled down, here and there, rocks piling along the edge of the sea. Xue Yang assumed that the line of debris close to the cliffs was high tide, but he hadn't seen the sea before either.

"Is it your name, Yang'er?" Xiao Xingchen said, and Xue Yang almost slid down from the rock he was clambering onto.

"What?" he barked, steadying himself, and Xiao Xingchen's fingers folded around his elbow to help him.

"Is the character for your name the one for ocean?"

"Oh. Yes." Xue Yang blinked out at the sea, or maybe the ocean. He supposed if you couldn't see the other side, it was all the same.

Really, it was just a lot of water sloshing about. He shrugged. "Let's get some seaweed, daozhang."

He had a bag knotted out of the cord they'd twisted up, and they stuffed it with three different kinds of seaweed. They found a couple of old turtle shells, wide as two spread hands, and Xiao Xingchen decided they'd make good bowls though Song Lan wrinkled his nose at the thought. Then they crouched over the rockpools, looking at tiny... creatures? plants? that clung to rocks and waved in the water. Even Song Lan deigned to stoop over and peer into the tiny scenes of trapped life, interest animating his severe mouth and eyes. There were tiny fish caught in the little pools, too small to be worth catching, and small armoured creatures with pincered limbs that Song Lan said were called crabs. He also said they were a delicacy, but admitted he had no idea how to cook them or strip them from their armour.

"Well, if we get really hungry we'll have to try it," Xue Yang said. There were smaller rocks stuck to the big rocks, and he pried one off with a tool he usually used for prying open joints; then he said, "Oh, look, there's something alive in here," and both Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen leaned over his shoulders, curtaining him with dark hair as they stared at the small shape still fumbling for its grip. "I'm going to eat it," he decided, and Song Lan huffed and Xiao Xingchen laughed, soft. They both watched as he impaled it on the end of his knife, and then popped it into his mouth and chewed. Song Lan's nose wrinkled; Xiao Xingchen smiled.

Xue Yang coughed. His eyes widened and unfocused. He clawed at his throat, and let out a desperate wheeze, and sagged backwards, Xiao Xingchen's hands grabbing to support him.

"Little friend!" he said, and the raw panic in his voice was startling, enough so that Xue Yang's eyes focused on him once more. He looked terrified. "Song Lan - "

"No, shit, it's fine," Xue Yang said, sitting up fast. "I was joking, I'm fine, it's all right, it was a little chewy but I'm fine."

Xiao Xingchen stared at him for a long moment, mouth round and open, and then he said, voice simmering with banked fury, "How dare you!" and flung Xue Yang away with such force he thumped into Song Lan's legs and almost unbalanced him. By the time they were disentangled, Xiao Xingchen was storming away down the beach, robes fluttering around you.

"This is the most I've felt like killing you all week," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang scuttled back like a crab. Song Lan looked down on him, all cold disdain. He didn't reach for his sword, but Xue Yang wanted to hurt him anyway, strip that scorn right off his superior face. "Must you torment him?"

"I didn't think he'd freak out like that," Xue Yang said. "I mean. He said he'd step aside and let you kill me, I didn't think he'd worry that much."

"Xue Yang," Song Lan said, with an audible creak as he ground his teeth together, "Xiao Xingchen's worry is why I've let you live. You think I'd do that if I thought the risk was trivial? I won't have him tear himself apart over you again. Though the worse you treat him, I suppose the more likely it is he'll come round to my point of view."

"I didn't," Xue Yang said, and then, "He's not - what's killing me got to do with that? He killed himself because of you. Because he killed you."

"Because he knew he had to kill you," Song Lan, "And he couldn't. And he couldn't live with that. He says he won't stop me, but who knows if he'll be able to live with himself for that?"

"But," Xue Yang said, and then, "But he knew - he knew who I was? He said - " Xiao Xingchen had said cruel things to him, unforgivable things -

"You might be able to throw your affection aside in a heartbeat, but Xiao Xingchen can't," Song Lan snapped. "He still cares about you for all he knows he shouldn't."

Xue Yang stared at him, lost for words. Song Lan's lip curled, and he leapt down from the rocks, racing after Xiao Xingchen, who'd gotten a good way down the beach. Xue Yang sat there with his bag of seaweed, and tried not to think about that day, like he'd not thought about it for years. Blood running down Xiao Xingchen's face. His desperate plea for someone to say something. The way his mouth had curled into an unfamiliar savagery as he poured scorn on Xue Yang -

Xue Yang curled around his left hand, and hissed out a curse. He had never, would never accept that he wasn't as entitled to his revenge as any sect leader.

But, well. They had both said things that were - almost unforgivable, and Xiao Xingchen was still here, wasn't he? And Xue Yang had, sort of, let go what he said, so -

He'd thought Xiao Xingchen's promise had been merely a hasty bribe to keep him from fleeing forward in time, but. But if Xiao Xingchen really could forgive him -

And he was willing to send Song Lan away, too. Everything Xue Yang wanted was within his grasp, if he could just be patient a little longer, behave himself as Xiao Xingchen wanted him to.

Chapter Text

Xiao Xingchen had always wanted to see the sea; it had never been an urgent desire, because he knew he had many years in front of him. The moment he realised he didn't have years was the moment he gave up his eyes, and the dream of the sea went with all his other dreams.

But here he was, and here was the sea, and here was Song Lan, settling into place beside him, worry in his dark eyes.

"Don't worry," Xiao Xingchen said. "I'm not fragile, Song Lan. I'm not going to - " he looked away. He could still recall how Shuanghua had felt, biting ice into his throat, cold creeping through his veins. "I worry you too much."

"Xue Yang worries me," Song Lan said. "You comfort me."

Xiao Xingchen breathed in and out, slow, matching the tide as it rolled and swept. It was retreating, he thought; there were stretches of damper sand banded above the surf. The waves marched up, bannered with white, and collapsed into nothing and left only more emptiness. But they'd be back again, reclaiming what they'd lost.

"It's selfish to say so," he said, "But I am so glad you are here with me, Zichen."

"I wouldn't be anywhere else," Song Lan said with a tiny smile. "Even if it does lack certain conveniences."

Was that true, though? Surely, he would rather be in Baixue Temple, listening to his shifu, surrounded by his fellow monks. The day he'd chosen the path of the rogue cultivator at Xiao Xingchen's side was the day he'd unknowingly chosen his doom.

"I'm going to miss tea," Xiao Xingchen admitted, looking away. "Well, perhaps I can find some leaves to make more tisanes. They're almost as good, I suppose." He glanced back at the rocky causeway; Xue Yang was still sitting there, his arms around his knees. He looked so much smaller when he wasn't moving. Xiao Xingchen sighed, and looked back to Song Lan. "I forget, sometimes," he said. "And then - I remember." Song Lan didn't say anything, and Xiao Xingchen tried for a smile. "You don't forget, of course."

"I don't think about it all the time," Song Lan said, and Xiao Xingchen looked up at him, to his face settled back into distant calm. "Sometimes, he's just - a person." He paused, and said, "It's tiring, you know. To hate someone."

"I don't think I ever did," Xiao Xingchen said, and Song Lan nodded.

"You're a better man than I am," he said, and hushed Xiao Xingchen when he started to object. "I have a temper, and I resent people, and I - hate Xue Yang. But it's tiring. It wears you out, and makes everything bitter. But to put it down... feels like a betrayal. It feels like a betrayal to let him live, and now, since he's offered to bring them back, it'll feel like a betrayal to kill him." He paused, and said, "I don't think he even did it on purpose, but once again all my choices are just terrible, and whatever I choose I know I'll regret it."

"Song Lan," Xiao Xingchen said. "I'm not better than you because you feel hate for a man who destroyed your whole family. You've chosen to resist your hate out of your deep compassion, and I admire that more than I can say. When you hurt me, you spent years searching to heal the wound."

"And then I let my rage control me," Song Lan said.

"And I let my soft heart stop me from administering justice," Xiao Xingchen said, "And A-Qing died of it. We've both failed, Song Lan, and - and Xue Yang made sure the smallest failings in us became chasms."

"And you still care for him," Song Lan said, and Xiao Xingchen head drooped. "It's all right, Xiao Xingchen."

"It isn't, really," he said. "And it's a burden I don't even want to put down, for all it's brought me so much pain. I keep. I keep thinking, surely he -" he shook his head. "For days he's nothing but my friend, and then he's so cruel."

"He's a fool," Song Lan said, and he looked honestly puzzled. "How a man who can aim his hurt so precisely on one day can't even see the damage he does on other days - "

Xiao Xingchen sighed, and said, "We should go back, if we want to be back before dark." He waved to attract Xue Yang's attention, and Xue Yang gathered himself and his bag of seaweed and came trotting over the sand, face that easy smile that concealed so much.

The trip back was uneventful; Xue Yang walked at a distance from them, either sulking or wary. He drifted in the direction where they'd seen the huge two-legged beast earlier, and Xiao Xingchen had to call out to him, warning him not to wander. Xue Yang didn't even protest, just nodded and came a little closer. He didn't look angry, at least; not that he had any right to be angry, but that had never stopped Xue Yang before.

They'd timed their return well, climbing the final slope to their camp as the sun turned red. Xiao Xingchen was preoccupied thinking about seaweed when Song Lan stopped dead on the edge of their campsite.

"Something's wrong," he said, and drew Fuxue.

Xiao Xingchen looked back over his shoulder; Xue Yang was some fifty paces below them, poking around at the base of a tree. He wasn't making any trouble, at least, and Xiao Xingchen scanned the trees, which weren't really enough to hide anything, the slopes above them, which could hide almost anything. Nothing looked out of place; Xiao Xingchen moved to check on their bone porch, which was as sturdy and vile-looking as it had been when they left.

He'd barely glanced into the interior when it boiled up and spilled out teeth and claws. He drew Shuanghua, but assaulted on at least three levels, he had to leap backwards or be slashed. The animals were fast, and the gape of their jaws alarmingly wide.

Song Lan was there instantly, swinging Fuxue; high yelps scratched at Xiao Xingchen's ears as skin and flesh split. Shuanghua severed a skinny forepaw, came back and drew a line of blood over a flank, but then jaws closed on his sleeve and he had to fling the creature hurriedly away, the fabric ripping through its sharp teeth.

Song Lan spun and dipped, and then Fuxue sliced through a neck, and a head thudded to the ground. Xiao Xingchen raised his sword to finish off the one that rolled stunned on the ground, but then he went down hard as a too-strong impact hit him from behind. He gasped, and a knee dug into his back.

"Stay down, daozhang," Xue Yang snapped, and then, "Oh fuck, you dumbshit - "

High-pitched shrieking rose up around them, and Song Lan let out a bellow of pain and rage; Xiao Xingchen struggled to his feet, throwing off Xue Yang's slight weight, and saw the animals shrieking away into the woods and Song Lan with his hands over his eyes.

"No, no, no," he said, hysteria rising in his throat, "Not again, please, not again - "

"It's not, it's not," Xue Yang was saying, and Xiao Xingchen turned on him, sword in hand, suddenly flooded with the knowledge he could kill Xue Yang.

Xue Yang didn't even attempt to defend himself. He fled into the trees as fast as the animals had, and Xiao Xingchen started after him before the ringing in his ears gave way to the desperate noises Song Lan was making, and he realised he couldn't just leave him, not even to hunt down Xue Yang.

"Zichen!" he called out, keeping his distance. "Zichen, please, let me see, let me check your wounds." Song Lan turned blindly towards him, his hands splayed over his face, and he groaned.

"Xiao Xingchen," he said, and Xiao Xingchen's heart sank inside him. When Song Lan had been blinded, when he'd thrown Xiao Xingchen back - had he sounded like that, or was it just memory failing? But whichever it was, he couldn't just leave Song Lan, had to do what he could first.

"Let me see. Let me see," Xiao Xingchen said, and he came close and took tentative hold of Song Lan's wrists. He didn't even twitch; whatever he was feeling was too intense to allow for his customary discomfort with touch. "Song Lan, come, let me look at you."

Song Lan let his hands be drawn down, and Xiao Xingchen let out a little relieved noise. His eyes were still there, rimmed with the red of irritation and not blood. There were a couple of scratches on his brow and cheekbones, likely from his own nails.

"Can you see me?" Xiao Xingchen said, watching him blink, gaze skittering erratically. "Zichen, look at me, can you see me?"

"Xiao Xingchen?" he said, and winced, "I can't -"

"Can you see me?" Xiao Xingchen pressed, and Song Lan frowned, and looked directly at Xiao Xingchen.

"Is it you?" he said, and then he lifted his hands to cup Xiao Xingchen's face. He didn't fumble or search; he settled his thumbs on Xiao Xingchen's cheekbones and stroked them gently. "I searched for you for so long - " then he recoiled, throwing himself out of Xiao Xingchen's grip. "I can't, what - Xue Yang - "

"Zichen," Xiao Xingchen said, and Song Lan swung back towards him, face screwed up in confusion.

"Xiao Xingchen?" he said, and took a step towards him. "Is that you?"

"Come inside," Xiao Xingchen said, "Come here, Zichen, come and lie down." He kept talking, coaxing like he would a nervous animal, and gently guided Song Lan into the cave. It smelled subtly different, a dry, dusty smell.

"My eyes," Song Lan said, and he touched his face, more carefully. "I can see."

"You're all right, Zichen," Xiao Xingchen said, and Song Lan grabbed for him, holding on tight to his waist.

"Don't leave," he said, urgent. "I didn't mean it, Xingchen, please, I didn't mean it."

"I'm not leaving. I'm here. Here, sit down - I won't leave. Drink some water."

He got Song Lan to sit, and fed him a little water, and wiped his face. Got him to tip his face back and have his eyes rinsed out; they seemed fine, tracking when Xiao Xingchen snapped his fingers for attention, dilating when he covered them with his hand for a minute. Whatever had happened to him was happening inside his head. He was calm as long as Xingchen talked to him, as long as he could keep his hand wrapped around Xingchen's wrist or resting on his leg, but if he thought he was alone, he began to panic.

A couple of times, he thought he saw Xue Yang, and Xiao Xingchen had to comfort him, and promise he wouldn't let Xue Yang hurt him. His mouth tasted of bile as he did it. How had he been such a fool, to forget the damage Xue Yang could do? Once again, treating him like a tame creature, but worse this time, because they knew.

He lit the fire at dusk, and settled Song Lan close behind him, where he could keep a eye on him but still stand between him and danger. Song Lan slept restlessly, his confusion seemingly pursuing him into his dreams; a few times he woke, and cried out Xiao Xingchen's name.

Xiao Xingchen soothed him back to sleep each time, taking pleasure at the way Song Lan calmed at his touch even as guilt crept in alongside it. Song Lan would not welcome it under normal circumstances, but it could hardly be taking advantage, when he reached anxiously to touch Xiao Xingchen, stared up at his face with open concern.

The fear went out of him as the night wore on, and he crawled closer and pillowed his head on Xiao Xingchen's thigh. He said, "I missed you so much, Xiao Xingchen."

"I missed you too," Xiao Xingchen assured him. "So much," and Song Lan smiled up at him, a broad loopy smile unlike anything he'd ever seen Song Lan wear.

Dawn came, and Song Lan woke again; this time, he propped himself on his elbow, stared around him, and said, "My eyes?" in questioning tones, and then looked up at Xiao Xingchen.

"They seem fine," Xiao Xingchen said, and was pleased to see the words registering; Song Lan seemed fully lucid. He sat up, blinked a few times, rolled his head on his neck and grimaced. Xiao Xingchen busied himself with the kettle while Song Lan gathered himself.

"I was - confused," he said, slow, unable to look at Xiao Xingchen. "Did I - I said some things - "

"Nothing bad," Xiao Xingchen said, and Song Lan's shoulders loosened a little. "You thought you were elsewhere, you didn't say anything bad." He paused, and then said, "You had every right to, anyway. You were hurt again because - "

"No," Song Lan said. "We were both careless. We forgot Xue Yang - " he paused. Rubbed at his mouth. Said, "What happened to Xue Yang?"

"He ran away," Xiao Xingchen admitted, and Song Lan sighed, soft. "I thought it best to take care of you."

"Thank you," he said, and then, "What... why..."

"I don't know. He knocked me over, and then threw his powder. The animals seemed to experience a similar effect to you, and fled."

Song Lan considered that for a long moment, then reached for the waterskin, drinking and then splashing his face. He said, "Do you think he was trying to help?"

"We didn't need help!" Xiao Xingchen snapped. "And if he did want to, why not simply use his sword? We'd be safer if we'd killed the pack; we've driven them away before, and they've come back. And you -" he forced his breathing to steady. "I was afraid for you."

"I was afraid for me," Song Lan said, and then, grudgingly, "But I'm all right, now. I think."

"What are you saying?" Xiao Xingchen said, and Song Lan looked at him.

"Nothing," he said, untruthfully. Xiao Xingchen knew exactly what he was saying, but he was in no mood to be understanding towards Xue Yang. "What are you going to do if he comes back?"

"You were worried that I'd - be damaged, if you killed him," Xiao Xingchen said. "I won't be. All right? I still care about him. I don't think I can stop. But -"

"Xiao Xingchen," Song Lan said, gently. "Take it from someone who knows; don't hurry to judgement when you're hurt."

"This isn't like that," Xiao Xingchen said, and Song Lan nodded.

"Not a lot, no. But I'm not so desperate for his death I'll risk you making a decision that will break your heart."

"I won't - " Xiao Xingchen shook his head. "If you - thatwould break my heart. If I'd failed you like - " like A-Qing, he couldn't say. Like he'd failed Song Lan once before, stabbed him through the heart in the serene conviction he was doing a good thing. Left him to enslavement. "If I had killed Xue Yang then, as I should have - "

He'd had no excuse but the softness of his own heart; his weakness.

"You said you wouldn't stop me. It was my decision not to kill him," Song Lan said steadily. "And I'm not hurt, Xiao Xingchen."

"So what?"

"So we should probably just ask him what happened. Maybe he won't have a good explanation, but - " Song Lan shrugged.

"If you were hurt," Xiao Xingchen said, "Because I failed again - "

"Xiao Xingchen," and Song Lan touched him, as he so rarely did, took hold of his shoulder and turned him so they could look into each other's eyes. "You're not doing this. We are. We'll decide together and share the blame. All right?"

"That would be easier to accept if I were sure we'd share the punishment," Xiao Xingchen said, and Song Lan sighed. "The consequences never seem... just."

"That's because, as Xue Yang said, the consequences are usually him, not the universe enacting justice." He let go, and said, "I'm going to wash up, I feel revolting."

"We should eat, too," Xingchen said, and went with him to wash the rice. At the stream, he said, "I can't believe you're quoting Xue Yang to me."

"Well, he's not always wrong. Especially when he says things are his fault."

They walked back to the cave, and found that there was a large, armoured fish laid out on the fire stones, and a stack of fungus and a full dozen eggs. Song Lan raised an eyebrow at Xiao Xingchen, who sighed.

"Well, I suppose there's no point in wasting it."

Xue Yang had never, that Xiao Xingchen recalled, apologised. But if he'd fought particularly hard with A-Qing, often there would turn out to be red bean buns after dinner, or fruit carved into shapes she could feel out with her fingers, and guess -

She hadn't guessed, of course. She hadn't been blind, then. He wondered if Xue Yang had left her carved apples after he'd blinded her, and felt a little sick.

"It's funny," Song Lan said, halfway through a quite tasty congee, "I actually felt betrayed. I really had started to think he wouldn't hurt me. Tell me how stupid that is."

"We're both stupid, then," Xiao Xingchen said. "I can't seem to learn..."

Song Lan made an indeterminate noise, and then said, "Well, it's less damage. Maybe he's learning."

It was quieter, without Xue Yang there. Xiao Xingchen enjoyed silence with Song Lan, he always had, and he enjoyed their talks, where they each took time to think and consider, without racing off down tangents, or questioning basic premises for the fun of it.

But, he would concede, he missed being teased and joked with, and he worried about Xue Yang. Every morning they returned from the stream to find offerings left for them, fish and eggs, various small lizards with neatly snapped necks, and Xiao Xingchen's heart would beat freely before winding tight over the day and night, wondering where he was and what was happening to him.

Worrying about Xue Yang was the most ridiculous thing he'd done in his life, but he couldn't stop himself; when he heard a distant roar, his head would jerk up, and he'd picture Xue Yang caught in the teeth of that great two-legged lizard. Perhaps one day the gifts would just stop appearing, and he'd never know if Xue Yang had been bitten by another poisonous beast, or torn apart by the beaks of fish, or stepped on by one of the huge creatures in the basin.

Maybe one day Xue Yang would just leave them here; he'd agreed to stay on condition Xiao Xingchen treat him nicely, after all. Maybe, after those years spent bringing Xiao Xingchen back from oblivion, he'd decide it hadn't been worth it, and toss them aside.

Xiao Xingchen might never know how much damage he'd done, if Xue Yang returned home and picked up his life of malice and destruction where he'd left off.

And then one morning Song Lan said, "All right, this is pointless. Go on and wash the rice," as they walked to the stream, and he doubled back to their cave. Xiao Xingchen went on, and washed the rice, and dawdled a little to splash cold water on his face as he prepared for the conversation to come. He had still not been able to imagine Xue Yang's excuses.

Despite everything, something in Xiao Xingchen settled at the sight of Xue Yang sat in his usual place, back straight, chin up, not a scratch on him. When Xiao Xingchen appeared he seemed to puff up, like a cat asserting itself.

Xiao Xingchen set the pot on the edge of the fire, and sat down, and Xue Yang relaxed a little. "Would you care to explain yourself?" Xiao Xingchen said. The usual offering was on the stones, a fish this time, with a double handful of the red-orange mushrooms, and he picked it up and began to fillet it. Song Lan lingered in their doorway, blocking the retreat. There was no sign of Jiangzai, so presumably Xue Yang still had it.

"I didn't mean to hit him," Xue Yang said. "Obviously I didn't mean to hit him. He just jumped into the dust. I don't know what the fuck he was thinking! If I'd meant to hit him I would have done something afterwards, wouldn't I, not just run away. Why would I waste my time - "

"I jumped into it because you knocked Xiao Xingchen down, and I thought he was going to get torn apart by lizards," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang looked up at him. "Why did you do that?"

"To stop him killing that lizard," Xue Yang said, as if it were obvious. "He was going to stab it, and I didn't think he'd listen if I told him not to, so I thought I'd just push him over while I got rid of the rest of them. But then you got in the way of my powder, and it all went to shit. It's harmless! I wouldn't have risked using anything serious at that range, not with Xiao Xingchen - and I was right there, if the breeze shifted I could have gotten a faceful. It's harmless. I just had it at hand in case of... emergencies."

"Emergencies," Song Lan echoed dryly, and Xue Yang shrugged, tossed his hair back.

"I had a harmless powder to hand in case you tried to kill me, yes. I'm not going to apologise for that."

"I doubt you're going to apologise for anything," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang shrugged again. His mouth curled, lopsided, his gaze flicking between them, alert for movement.

He thought he was on trial for his life, Xiao Xingchen realised, misery curling cold through his guts. And wasn't he? Was this destined to be their life, acting as his captors, jailors, judges? Executioners, one day? Perhaps it was inevitable from when they'd first put the ropes on him.

Song Lan sighed. "Are you going to tell us why you suddenly decided you had respect for all living beings?"

"Obviously I don't," Xue Yang said, "But I thought Xiao Xingchen would be mad if I let him kill them - "

"Why would I... what are you talking about?" Xiao Xingchen threw up his hands, and Xue Yang eyed the one with the knife, not exactly nervously.

"You were upset about all those people," he pointed out. Xiao Xingchen wasn't really prone to headaches, as he had such strong cultivation, but he was starting to feel like one was coming.

"People aren't animals," he said, feeling foolish for having to say it. Xue Yang wasn't exactly an authority on ethics, but Xiao Xingchen was quite sure he understood that distinction. They hadn't eaten much meat in Yi City, but they'd eaten a lot of it here without a word from Xue Yang.

"But the resentful energy - "

"What resentful energy? I didn't feel any. Shuanghua - " he stopped, remembering that he had made mistakes before, relying too heavily on Shuanghua - except that Shuanghua had never failed, he just hadn't understood.

"I'm trying to tell you," Xue Yang said, with an air of strained patience. "Shuanghua detects resentful energy in corpses, right, or - corpse poisoned people. It doesn't detect it when it's just hanging around. When Song Lan took the head off that animal, I felt it die. There was resentful energy."

Xiao Xingchen looked up at Song Lan, who frowned back at him and said, "Bestial energy?"

"Song Lan. Song Lan. Are you going to stand there and tell me to my face I can't tell the difference between resentful energy and bestial energy?" Xue Yang raised his hands, gestured with them, and settled them onto his head. "I have no idea what to do when I'm mad if I can't threaten people, fuck. I can't believe you'd say that to me. What the fuck. How dare you. We're even now for the disorienting powder."

"That still leaves you very considerably indebted," Song Lan said, but the corner of his mouth turned up fractionally, to Xiao Xingchen's surprise. "So what, you're saying they're... you're not saying they're corpse poisoned, because Shuanghua would have known - "

"You're the daoist," Xue Yang said, and grinned. "Isn't it a basic concept that only people make resentful energy?"

Song Lan opened his mouth, and then left it open for several seconds as he processed the implications of that. Xiao Xingchen said, "But they're not - they're animals. Aren't they?"

"Well, you decide, Xiao Xingchen." Xue Yang shrugged. "I don't mind if you want to kill them, I just figured you'd get really mad if I knew and let you kill them anyway, so that's why I stopped you. And I didn't mean to hit Song Lan! Why would I? Everything was going well for me."

There was another pause. Xiao Xingchen laid the steaks of fish out on the flat rock, and began slicing the fungus, neat and quick. Song Lan was thinking deeply; Xue Yang was watching him, chin in his hand.

Song Lan said, "There are stories of beings who aren't human but are nevertheless generate and control resentful energies, but they're always similar to humans; they're intelligent. The beasts that are empowered by resentful energy are those infused by it from other sources, like burial grounds." He paused, and then said, "I can't think of any cases of resentful energy being generated by an animal. But I suppose that doesn't mean it couldn't be."

"They ambushed us," Xiao Xingchen said, thinking back. "They watched and waited until we left, and then they waited in here for us so they could surprise us."

"So they're smart," Xue Yang said. "I wonder if they can cultivate? Some animals can, right? Seems like smart ones would be better at it."

"Oh no," Xiao Xingchen said. "That would be - what if the big ones can cultivate?"

Xue Yang's expression turned dreamy, and he twirled a strand of hair round his finger. "That would be incredible," he said wistfully. "Hey, do you think you could teach - "

"You are not teaching anything to them," Song Lan said, very firmly, and Xue Yang looked up at him with big, innocent eyes.

"But Song-daozhang, didn't you say you wanted to start a sect based on ability, not bloodlines? Here's your chance!"

Song Lan pressed his fingers between his brow, and didn't answer. Xue Yang turned his huge eyes on Xiao Xingchen, who shook his head firmly.

"Absolutely not." Although they were going to be here for years, with nothing to do but survive. And if their... neighbours... truly were intelligent... "Do you think it's actually possible?" Song Lan sighed, and Xue Yang beamed at him.

"Who knows? We'd have to see if we can communicate with them, first."

"They don't seem friendly even if they are intelligent," Song Lan said, which was very true. "I appreciate that they may be intelligent, but they don't hesitate to attack us."

"Well, we invaded their home and we're raiding their nests," Xue Yang said. "Probably. I don't know, we're eating all the eggs we found. I don't know if they care about their eggs, though. Maybe they just think we look tasty."

"Whose side are you on?" Song Lan said.

"Mine, obviously. But you get pissed when I kill people. If I moved into someone's house and ate their kids, you'd be all, oh, Xue Yang, how dare you, you should face justice - "

"It's obviously not the same," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang raised his eyebrows challengingly. Song Lan frowned, and then said, "Although... we have eaten some animals. Were they full-grown or..."

"I think they were full-grown bird things," Xue Yang said. "No actual baby animals. I think."

"This is a very silly conversation," Xiao Xingchen said, and Song Lan blinked at him, and then looked sheepish.

"It really is," he said. "We have to survive. Those animals are hunting us. We'll defend ourselves as necessary."

"Seems like a double standard to me, but fine," Xue Yang said. "So to be clear: I can kill anything here as long as it doesn't look like a human person?"

"This is a very bad precedent to set," Song Lan remarked, "But in general, yes. I suppose it would be better if you avoided killing things that gave off resentful energy, just... just in case." He wrinkled his nose, clearly not best pleased by the caveat.

"But there's no need to go out of your way to kill things," Xiao Xingchen added, and Xue Yang blinked his big dark eyes and didn't reply. Xiao Xingchen sighed. "Why would you even want to?"

"Not sure yet," Xue Yang said. "But you never know when something might come up."

He would have found that funny once, before he knew how casually Xue Yang killed. The rice was done, so he served it into bowls and nudged the pot over to Xue Yang. He smiled, clearly seeing the food as an act of friendliness.

It was, of course; Xiao Xingchen was still annoyed, but the anger had drained out of him. He should probably be more concerned about Xue Yang's odd priorities, but - well, no real harm done. And Song Lan, after all, wasn't angry.

Perhaps it wasn't surprising; perhaps when one had to tolerate the murderer of one's family, smaller offences felt trivial.

Song Lan moved out of the doorway to sit and eat, and Xue Yang said, "Going to kill me, Song-daozhang?" with his weight shifted a little, ready to bolt for the gap.

"Maybe," Song Lan said, and Xiao Xingchen tensed as he reached out and took hold of Xue Yang's shoulder. Xue Yang, though, just tipped his head back and inspected Song Lan's face. "Probably not today. Stop fucking throwing things in my eyes, though, or I'll beat you bloody and trust you love Xiao Xingchen enough not to retaliate." He gave Xue Yang a rough shake before he let go, and moved to his own place.

"Unkind," Xue Yang said, and pulled the pot onto his lap, smiling.

Xiao Xingchen had known his little friend well, he thought, but he had little idea how to parse the expressions he wore. He smiled so much even when he was angry, or wary, or apologetic, or exhausted. He couldn't place this smile.

"Do you need anything?" Xue Yang said, between bites. "I've been exploring some. Nothing new, really. I went and watched that big guy for a while; it hunts tree-eaters, but bigger ones. I think the ones round here might be younger ones, or maybe a different kind. It runs. It grabbed one of them like a dog with a rat and shook it to break its neck. There are at least a dozen of them wandering around out there; they seem to range pretty far." He smiled wider, clearly pleased. Xiao Xingchen tried to picture the beast they'd seen running, and couldn't quite manage it. The ground must shake under it. "Anyway. Wood, bones, seaweed..?"

"I thought we might look at making a bed," Xiao Xingchen said. "If we're going to stay here for the winter."

Xue Yang shrugged, and looked at Song Lan. "I don't care where we are," he said. "You?"

"I think we should stay here," Song Lan said, "Though it's not a bad idea to look for a place we could retreat to, if things became... difficult, here."

"Closer to the sea, maybe," Xue Yang said. "There's seaweed all year, right, and there were a lot of those shellfish. We might even figure out the crabs in time." He beamed. "There might be caves in the cliffs. If there are caves you can only get to by flying, they'd be really safe, right?"

"I suppose so," Song Lan said, almost smiling.

Xue Yang slipped away after breakfast, declaring his intent to look for suitable materials for a bed. Xiao Xingchen didn't try to stop him; he was clearly more than able to negotiate this strange world on his own. Better than them, really.

"Do you believe him?" Xiao Xingchen asked Song Lan, who looked surprised.

"Don't you?"

"I've learned to question my judgement of him," Xiao Xingchen said, and Song Lan nodded.

"It's a plausible story. And I can't think of other reasons for him to do it. Of course he could have lost his temper and lashed out, but I don't see what could have triggered it."

"I was curt with him at the beach," Xiao Xingchen said. "Not unjustly, but Xue Yang has his own views of justice."

"I was too, but he didn't seem particularly angry on the way back," Song Lan said. "It seems unlikely he would lash out... so harmlessly, and then change his mind immediately."

"You're right, of course. It's not as if..." Xiao Xingchen shook his head. "It's natural to believe the worst of him, and I don't want to, and it's so hard to strike a balance between my head and my heart."

Song Lan reached out, and touched the back of his hand with light fingers; Xiao Xingchen froze, as if a butterfly had alighted on his skin. "Your heart is what makes you a good man," Song Lan said. "Never stop listening to it."

"Thank you," was all Xiao Xingchen could think to say, and he stayed perfectly still as Song Lan withdrew his hand, looking a little self-conscious.

The same old churn of worries turned over in Xiao Xingchen's mind as he went about his morning routine; collecting firewood, turning over the piles of reeds - he thought they were almost dry enough to weave into matting - and searching for nests to rob of eggs. He couldn't help but recall what Xue Yang had said about eating children. Were the animals really clever enough to know that? Surely they'd guard their nests, or hide them better, if so.

He held an egg up to the light, and made out a tiny curled form within, and hastily tucked it back into the pile, smoothing the dirt back over it.

Double standard, Xue Yang had said, as if the lives of other people and the lives of unusually clever lizards were all the same to him, as if he were unimpressed that they made a distinction.

Perhaps they should try to communicate with the animals, somehow; even if they could just warn them off, somehow... If they were looking for food, they'd likely grow hungrier, more desperate towards winter.

Xiao Xingchen wasn't looking forward to winter. It seemed warmer here than in their own time, but he still expected winter to be cold. In Yi City, the nights had been cold, but Xue Yang had been shameless about insinuating himself into Xiao Xingchen's bed, even when all he wanted was the closeness and body heat.

There was no way he could allow that here, even if Xue Yang were willing to attempt it under Song Lan's judgemental eye.

The thought of what Xue Yang might be shameless enough to attempt made him flush with embarrassment, and he dismissed the thought.

They would be very cold, unless they found some furred animals. They could heat stones in the fire, but even so, they had one blanket apiece, and their robes were not heavy. Food would be scarce, and rain and snow were likely, making it harder to gather firewood; they'd have to build a good stack inside their cave, and check it regularly for damp.

In the coldest part of winter, he and Song Lan had gone back to Baixue, where they had slept side by side on a small platform in a cool room. Close enough that when Xiao Xingchen woke first, he could count Song Lan's eyelashes. Never touching, even when his breath smoked in the air.

When he got back to the cave, Song Lan and Xue Yang were bickering over more lizard bones, and whether they were suitable supports for a bed.

"They're nicely dried out," Xue Yang said. "Tough. They'll last for years."

"But it's creepy," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang giggled. "I don't want to sleep on something that you might re-animate into a horrible monster."

"And do what, walk it to the stream and tip you in?" His expression turned contemplative, as did Song Lan's. "Not sure I could pull that off," he said after a minute.

"Well, good. Ah, Xiao Xingchen, Xue Yang wants us to live in a charnel house -"

"Xiao Xingchen and I lived in a coffin house, this is hardly worse -"

"I'm open to better ideas," Xiao Xingchen said, "But with only a hatchet, it's difficult to cut wood with much accuracy."

"See?" Xue Yang said, and then, "Let me get that for you, daozhang," and took the bundle of wood from his arms without waiting for permission.

"Once we've used the reeds, we'll need to fill the space with wood for winter," Xingchen said, and Xue Yang hummed agreement. "We may need to keep the fire burning at all hours to stop it from getting cold in here."

"We could make a smaller space inside, maybe," Xue Yang said. "They heat up easier. Song-daozhang will complain about sleeping in a room made of bones, I expect."

"I don't understand why your first idea for everything is dead bodies," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang giggled. "Can't we use the reed matting we're going to make for the sleeping platform?"

"Hm," Xue Yang said, and his nose wrinkled up. "What do you think, daozhang?"

"I think we'd still need something for the supports and frame," he said, "But it could be mostly reeds, I suppose."

"There you are." Xue Yang beamed. "If you find anything else suitable before we've made the actual platform, we can use that," he added. "I'm not wedded to dead bodies, as a concept. They're just so useful. I remember -"

"Please don't," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang laughed again. He seemed perfectly happy, unalarmed, his shoulders loose despite the fact he was in easy arm's reach of Song Lan. And Song Lan wasn't even tense, didn't even seem to worry about putting Xue Yang at his back when he turned to look at the thick, stubby bones Xue Yang had brought back.

"How much of that powder do you have?" Xiao Xingchen said, and Xue Yang gave him a wary smile.

"Some. I expected that after I got things sorted out, you'd take a while to... calm down again. And of course, the fucking Wen would be on my tail. So I expected to be on the run, lying low, for a while."

"You didn't exactly lie low last time," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang shrugged.

"And I got the shit kicked out of me a lot, actually, barely escaped with my life. But now I want to live it's different. I've packed some shit the Wen wouldn't believe. Too bad I'll never get to spring it on them." Then he said, "Don't worry, Song-daozhang, I didn't actually bring any blinding powder. I thought it might upset you."

"Really?" Song Lan said, sounding distinctly sceptical.

"Well, and that would upset Xiao Xingchen," Xue Yang said, and Song Lan shook his head. "I didn't bring any corpse powder either! Although it would serve the Wen right."

"So you just have that... disorienting stuff."

"I have lots of stuff." Xue Yang shrugged. "In the absence of a firm commitment to not killing me, I'll be keeping my secrets, thanks." He paused, and raised an eyebrow at Song Lan, who shook his head.

"I'll say not tonight, how's that," he said, and Xue Yang smiled. He lingered as they lit the fire, and sat down as usual. It felt good to have him there. Comfortable, with the two of them. If only A-Qing -

She would have enjoyed the animals, probably. Denied being able to see them, called Xue Yang a liar for insisting they were as tall as the sky. Complained about the food, and accused Xue Yang -

He winced at the thought, and glanced back up to find Song Lan trying to pry more information out of Xue Yang.

"What did you use in Yi City, then?" Xue Yang looked cagey, glancing at Xiao Xingchen and then ducking his head. "Apart from corpse powder. You did go on legitimate night hunts, didn't you? You said - "

"Yes, of course," Xue Yang said.

"We did?" Xiao Xingchen said, and Xue Yang looked surprised.

"Of course, daozhang. You said it yourself, it had been a long time since we'd seen a fierce corpse." When he'd killed Song Lan, of course. Well, the day was a bit of a blur to him. Xue Yang was still talking, "After about six months I just didn't find it fun any more, so I thought I'd just stop. The actual night hunting was more fun, really. Much more variety."

Of course it couldn't all have been a lie. He'd killed beasts and dismissed ghosts and talked to grateful householders. Xue Yang could hardly have faked all that. There had been truth in their lives together.

"So what did you use for that?" Song Lan said, with heavy patience.

"Oh, nothing really. I just stood back and applauded Xiao Xingchen. Except when it was pigs, of course."

"That's not true, little friend, you were -" Xiao Xingchen hesitated. "I thought you were very helpful," he said, and then more confidently, "You were. Your talismans, in particular."

"Well. It was my fault you couldn't use them." Xue Yang's smile was a little lopsided. "Only fair."

"Mm, well. You were very good with them. And generally a very helpful partner."

"Of course I'm not incompetent, daozhang. But don't build me up, Song-daozhang will get expectations."

"I know you're competent." Song Lan gave him a flat look. "It would have been better if you weren't."

"Yes, yes, I'm always so inconvenient to my betters, the world would have been a better place if I'd died in the street that time." Xue Yang rolled his eyes so dramatically his whole body swayed.

"Which time?"

"Any time, I suppose. I've only been making it worse."

"Except when you helped with night hunts," Xiao Xingchen said, because Xue Yang's smile was getting a little too… toothy, and this topic - wasn't good. The smile reshaped itself to something softer when he turned to Xiao Xingchen again.

"Ah, I helped with that ghost case, remember? Where the grandmother was haunting them?"

Xiao Xingchen let out a surprised laugh, and then said to Song Lan, "I was so confused. It didn't behave like any ghost I'd ever heard of, and it turned out it wasn't. Her younger son was faking the haunting, in an attempt to gain more of the inheritance. We found out when - " he frowned. "When an actual ghost appeared, and denounced him, which now I say it does sound extremely convenient."

"It was convenient, wasn't it?" Xue Yang said, cheerfully. "He pissed himself and begged us to protect him and confessed all his crimes, and then the ghost just faded away."

"Xue Yang," Xiao Xingchen said, trying to sound scolding, but Xue Yang looked so pleased with himself, it was difficult. "Demonic cultivation isn't a toy."

"No, it's a tool." Xue Yang shrugged. "Let's not fight; it's not like I can use it much now, unless I want to raise lizard ghosts."

"Do you want to raise lizard ghosts?" Song Lan said, and Xue Yang gave him a sweet smile.

He said, "Talking of dead bodies," and Song Lan sighed, long and drawn-out. Xue Yang grinned. "Seriously, though, I meant to ask but I forgot, what with everything. What did you do with the body?"

"Which body?" Xiao Xingchen said, blank. Surely he couldn't mean that night hunt. "The - the fish?"

"No, the animal Song Lan killed. Did you get rid of the body?"

Xiao Xingchen had forgotten all about the body, hadn't noticed it had gone, hadn't noticed anything unusual.

"No, I - Song Lan was very disoriented, I didn't like to leave him. I thought - I didn't think of it. It wasn't there any more. You didn't - "

"No. It was gone the next morning, when you went to the stream," Xue Yang said. "So either a big predator came by in the night and took it while you weren't watching..." Xiao Xingchen shook his head; he'd been awake all night, and would surely have noticed anything big, even when distracted by Song Lan's distress. "Or when they'd recovered from the powder, they came back to retrieve their dead."

*

It was the soap that was worst. Song Lan was used to life in the wilds, trekking through rough terrain in search of people in need. But he'd never gone this long without a bath in his whole life, even when he'd had to haul the water himself. And his clothes - well, fortunately he had spare inner clothes, so he could air them in turn, but it really wasn't enough.

He was trying to be restrained with his soap, but already his herbal-scented little ingot was wearing away. Xiao Xingchen was experimenting with burning various plants, but as yet had only managed to make himself even grubbier. At least soot rinsed off.

"Oh, you're washing," Xue Yang said, and Song Lan gave him a narrow-eyed look at the statement. Xue Yang was supposed to be safely away, wrist-deep in bones or whatever project he'd decided on, so Song Lan had felt comfortable taking their pot - too small for laundry, but there was no help for that - down to the river, building up a fire, and boiling up water to get his clothes clean again. It was inappropriate to be wandering about in just his inner clothes, but it wasn't like they had a laundry house.

Xue Yang didn't remark on his state of undress; he just said, "I'll use the pot after you, then," and wandered away, coming back shortly after with an armful of white that was presumably Xiao Xingchen's.

"Did you do his laundry in Yi City too?" Song Lan said, and Xue Yang shrugged.

"Be reasonable, Song-daozhang, it's not like he could see what was dirty. I did A-Qing's too, little liar." He dropped the clothes on the ground and started to strip off his own clothes.

"I'm not done yet," Song Lan said.

"If I'm going to clean my clothes I might as well get myself clean," Xue Yang said, not unreasonably. He bundled up his inner robe, wrapping it in a sash and tying it over his bare shoulders; it must have Jiangzai in it.

It wasn't like he hadn't seen Xue Yang naked before; Xue Yang hadn't been self-conscious in Yi City, treating him more like a piece of furniture than a person. And he'd seen Song Lan in every possible state, of course. He'd pressed talismans against Song Lan's cold flesh, pried his skin open to inspect various organs. Put his hands inside him, feeling around, muttering about glands and nerves. Nothing about Song Lan's body was unfamiliar to him, but it was different when Song Lan was in control of that body.

Xue Yang, of course, didn't care. He just twisted his hair on top of his head and waded into the stream, which was about waist-deep at the deepest. Song Lan shifted to keep him in view, and watched him scrub himself down vigorously with a cloth, pale skin reddening.

"If I'd known I was never going to have a hot bath again I would have had one before we came here," Xue Yang said. "Oh well. I found some plants that smelled interesting and Xiao Xingchen's going to try burning them. Of course he's all like on the mountain we all just scrubbed ourselves with the beautiful silver sand that was in every sparkling spring. I tried that with some of the sand from the beach and it about cleaned off my skin. I think I'm missing some freckles."

"You don't have freckles," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang arched an eyebrow at him.

"Not anymore."

Song Lan's mouth curled a little, treacherous, and Xue Yang's smile widened. He dropped to his knees in the stream, the water coming up to just below his nose, and watched Song Lan scrub at his clothes, dunk another section of them in the hot water, scrub again.

"I hope we find something with fur," Xue Yang said, lifting his head enough to speak. "I don't want to wear clothes made out of reed matting. How would we even wash them?"

"It'll take years for our clothes to wear out," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang shrugged.

"Well, we'll be here for years, unless we die. Which, go ahead, more clothes for the rest of us."

Song Lan looked at him, his untroubled expression, a stray lock of hair floating in the water next to the end of his sash. He blinked back, appearing utterly guileless.

He'd seen Xue Yang impersonate Xiao Xingchen for long stretches of time; mimicking his voice, his manner, his soft yet assured way of speaking, the slightly high-handed way in which he declared solutions, his open sympathy. Sometimes, even Song Lan had sunk into the warmth of fantasy, able to pretend for a few minutes it was truly Xiao Xingchen by his side.

So there was no reason to suppose there was ever sincerity in Xue Yang; he was deceit all the way to his core. Still, though, Song Lan asked, "You seem surprisingly happy with the situation."

"What, you dying? Don't actually, Xiao Xingchen would be sad, and then I'd have to bring you back, and you wouldn't like that at all." Xue Yang stood up again, and came splashing out of the water to collect up Xiao Xingchen's clothes, taking them back into the stream with him.

"No, I mean... everything. Staying here." Xue Yang looked puzzled, and Song Lan said, "At first you kept telling me reasons I should talk Xiao Xingchen into going back, but now..."

"Oh, yeah. Well, that was when I thought Xiao Xingchen was bullshitting me and the only way he'd actually get over it all was if I put everything back like it was. But you were right, he really does..." Xue Yang made a vague gesture, sloshing the fabric about. "He's being nicer," he concluded, "If we're going to go back to normal without going back, that's fine, we can stay."

"You're fine spending the rest of your life here living off lizard eggs and wearing rush matting," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang shrugged.

"In some ways it's better than Yi City," he said. "There's a lot of stuff we can't have but there's a lot to eat. Winter's going to be harder, probably, but there'll still be fish. I won't starve and I've got Xiao Xingchen."

"I remember," Song Lan said, the words a little slow on his tongue, "You loved Jinlintai."

He'd only been there once; he thought Xue Yang was making some kind of point by having his fierce corpse at his heels, silent and obedient. But Xue Yang had enjoyed himself immensely in the golden luxury.

"That was nice, wasn't it?" Xue Yang said. "And yes, I could travel back and do all that again. I could travel back and get a shiny fresh Xiao Xingchen, and even a new you. Maybe I could put on a whole new face, and persuade you both to like me. There's a lot of things I could do. I could have done them after Xiao Xingchen died, too, but I didn't. I know what I want, and I'll give up candy and nice clothes and soap to have him. So if you're waiting for me to get bored and fuck off, you'd better be prepared to wait a long time." He smiled, wide and cheerful.

"He's not," Song Lan said, picking his words carefully, "Being that nice."

Xue Yang gave him a blank look, and when Song Lan didn't say anything, he said, "Nice enough." A longer silence, and Xue Yang sighed.

"Song Lan, you are very spoiled, what with having a whole temple to like you - "

"Not any more," Song Lan snapped.

"Chronologically, not yet," Xue Yang said. "The point is, Xiao Xingchen is good to me, and he knows who I am. Maybe he doesn't like me as much as before, but he still likes me. You were right. He can't help it! So I don't care if he's kind of a bitch sometimes. I've lived with worse from people who weren't even polite. You wouldn't believe the shit that went on in Nightless City."

There wasn't much to say to that. An expression of sympathy was clearly out of place, but Song Lan found he was curious about the life that had made Xue Yang. Finally he tried, "You must have had a family."

"I must have," Xue Yang agreed. "I'm here. I have a name, even. So there must have been someone once."

Song Lan paused again before giving in, and asked, "But who raised you?"

"Well, fuck, Song Lan, who raised you? Don't ask rude questions."

"My parents died when I was nine," Song Lan said. Perhaps if he made it seem like a conversation, rather than an interrogation, Xue Yang might disclose more. "After that... my shifu, I suppose. The temple took me in while they tried to find a relative, but I didn't have any, or they couldn't find any. So they kept me."

"Just like that," Xue Yang said, and laughed.

"Not just my shifu. My shixiong, of course, and there were plenty of other monks, not all of them cultivators.. And there were a few servants; the cook, the steward. They were all very kind to me. I was - lonely, and grieving, and they made me welcome. My shifu asked if I wanted to stay, and be a monk and perhaps a cultivator, or if I wanted them to find a family who wanted another son, and I said I wanted to stay."

Xue Yang laughed again, and said again, "Just like that. What did you do to deserve that, Song Lan?"

"Nothing. I was nine. I didn't do anything to deserve my parents, or my temple, or not being cold or hungry. Children don't have to do anything to be taken care of." He paused, and then said, "And it was a bad investment for them, as it turned out. I brought disaster down on them. I lashed out at Xiao Xingchen, but it was denying my own part in it."

"Stupid," Xue Yang said. "It wasn't Xiao Xingchen or you. I killed your temple."

"There were over fifty of them," Song Lan said. "It was my shifu's birthday. I'd brought him a gift; I still have it. He was a very good man."

Xue Yang's nose scrunched up a little. He said, "Are you trying to make me feel guilty about it?"

He said it with curiosity, like the idea was mildly interesting. Song Lan remembered his laughter ringing off the blood-spattered walls of the temple. He'd been smug, delighted. Playful, even. Like all those deaths were just a game to him.

"Do you even feel guilt?" Song Lan said, and heard curiosity in his own voice. "Do you feel guilty about any of this?"

"I'm trying to fix it, aren't I?" Xue Yang said. "You're alive, you've got your tongue back, and I did try to get your temple back. There's nothing more I can do. I mean, except die for your revenge, but I'm not going to do that."

How do you feel about it? Song Lan wanted to ask, but he was unsure Xue Yang would even have an answer; he was fairly sure he wouldn't like the answer if he got it.

Then he said, "What about A-Qing? Do you feel guilty about that?" and Xue Yang's face shuttered up. He sank back into the water til it covered his nose and mouth, and stared at Song Lan like a malicious water ghost. Song Lan waited, not lifting his gaze, staying expectant. He wasn't sure if Xue Yang was refusing to answer, or just working on one.

Finally, he lifted his chin out of the water and said, "I'm trying to fix that, too." He wasn't smiling, and his mouth worked a little, as if deciding between words. Then he said, "That was a weird day."

"A weird day," Song Lan said, his voice flat.

"I don't know what I felt, Song-daozhang. I was busy. I didn't have any time to sit around and meditate. But at the end of the day I wanted things to be different. So I decided to change them."

Song Lan eyed him. He looked back, and smiled, a lazy unconcerned thing. Song Lan shrugged, and said, "Done with the pot," and stepped away to drape his robes over low-hanging branches. The wind should dry them fairly quickly. He wasn't used to being mostly-naked, especially not outside, but it was not as if there were anyone to see him.

Apart from Xiao Xingchen and Xue Yang, of course, who didn't count for entirely different reasons.

Xue Yang splashed out of the river, and said, "Here," and tossed something to him. He caught it, and frowned down at the ingot of soap. Xue Yang shrugged at him.

"That's my spare. Try not to use it all up before Xiao Xingchen figures out his horrible ash and fat recipe."

He should probably thank Xue Yang, but Xue Yang had already turned his attention to the pile of clothes. Song Lan tucked the new piece of soap away - at least another month of decent cleanliness there - and then waded into the river and began to wash himself through his inner clothes, which were thin enough linen it seemed more practical than washing them separately.

He twisted his hair up and out of the way to immerse himself, and let the water rinse over him. It was cool enough to make him shiver; if they were here in winter - well, if they were here in winter the fire would be burning long enough he could boil all the water he wanted to wash with. He had no idea how Xue Yang could spend so long in it.

When he got out, Xue Yang had carefully hung up all the clothes he'd washed, and was sprawled out next to the fire in an ungraceful splay of limbs. He was as skinny as the most ascetic monk; despite his taste for sweets, he'd never carried much weight. Jiangzai was tucked under his neck, the back of his hand resting against the hilt. Song Lan frowned at him, and as if feeling it, Xue Yang opened one eye.

"What's that sour face for?" he said, and Song Lan considered him. Xue Yang made a beckoning gesture, as if to say go on.

"It would be more polite if you were to cover yourself," he said, settling cross-legged down by the fire so he could see Xue Yang's face. Xue Yang stared at him.

"Well, you'd get dry quicker if you uncovered yourself," he said. "My clothes are wet, Song-daozhang. I've just had a bath. Are you really going to say it's rude to be naked?"

"The scholar Mencius was once offended by finding his wife improperly clad in her private room," Song Lan said, at least partly to see the face Xue Yang made. It didn't disappoint; one eyebrow went up, and his mouth formed a lopsided sneer, nostrils flaring.

"Why would you marry someone you didn't want to see naked?" he demanded. "Was she ugly?"

"No - at least, the story doesn't say. He was just a stickler for proper behaviour. He wanted to divorce her - "

"He sounds terrible," Xue Yang said, and Song Lan kept talking.

"But his mother said he should have announced himself before entering her private room, so she could be prepared for his arrival."

Xue Yang considered this, and then said, "Sounds like he was just looking for an excuse to divorce her. I hope she made his life miserable."

"The story is supposed to reflect Mencius' great regard for propriety," Song Lan said, and waited. Sure enough, Xue Yang said, "But he was in the wrong, wasn't he? Are you sure this is the moral you want me to take from this?"

"This isn't a private room, though."

"Oh, true. I suppose you can divorce me after all." Xue Yang giggled. "No, but we don't have any private rooms, that's not fair. You can only be proper if you have the money to afford a private bath?"

"Or cover up," Song Lan said, mildly, and Xue Yang grinned at him, sharp.

"If you don't dry out properly, you get mould. Mildew. Rot." He rolled onto his belly and pushed up onto all fours, hair hanging fluffy and wild. "Your clothes will rot and you'll get fungus in your armpits, Song Lan." He advanced on all fours, a wicked light in his eyes, and Song Lan hastily unfolded his legs and drew his knees up between them. "And then you'll itch, Song Lan, you'll itch in all your corners and you'll be too proper and well behaved to scratch and you'll just have to sit there itching." He lunged at Song Lan with hooked fingers, like he was going to tickle him, and Song Lan grabbed for his wrists, and they tumbled, undignified.

In theory, Xue Yang was a full head shorter than him, much skinnier, and had a weaker golden core. In practice, it was like trying to take hold of a fish, if the fish also had plenty of places it would be embarrassing to put your hands, and wouldn't stop laughing like the whole thing was just hilarious. It took several minutes to get Xue Yang securely pinned, and Xue Yang just grinned up at him, sunny, eyes pushed narrow by the roundness of his cheeks.

"Isn't this undignified, Song-daozhang? Improper?"

"Completely unbecoming a proper cultivator," Song Lan agreed, and transferred both of Xue Yang's bony wrists to one hand so he could administer a stinging flick to the tip of Xue Yang's nose. Xue Yang made an outraged face, and then giggled again, twisting his arms free and getting one hand to Song Lan's armpit. Song Lan let out a highly undignified noise, and Xue Yang cackled like a hen laying an egg and redoubled his struggles.

The problem was it was hard to contain Xue Yang without actually hurting him; he almost dislocated his own shoulder before Song Lan let go of his wrist. His elbow dug hard into Song Lan's ribs; not as hard as he could, not bone-breaking, but Song Lan wouldn't call it playful despite his wild grin.

The other problem was that Song Lan hadn't wrestled like this since he was a small child, and his body responded very differently to the press of another body, the sounds of exertion breathed into his ear and the grip of strong hands. He jerked back, flushed with sudden embarrassed heat, and Xue Yang said ha! and dug his fingers in again, dragging a near-hysterical giggle from Song Lan's throat. He tried to writhe out from under Song Lan, a ripple of muscle that made the blood rush in Song Lan's veins, and it was about to get very embarrassing.

The surge of panic made him reckless, and he tossed Xue Yang bodily away, so he landed with a breath-stealing thud. He just rolled over and laughed, and Song Lan said, "Enough, please," almost desperately. To his surprise, it worked, and Xue Yang just smiled, toothy, and stretched out on the green earth. His skin was stained green here and there. He'd have to wash again. Song Lan was relying on the black of his inner clothes to hide any marks, and he pulled his knees up again, to hide everything else. The scent of the crushed leaves wasn't unpleasant, no worse than the woodsmoke that inevitably sank into their clothes.

Xue Yang sat up, and said, "Your hair," in tones of glee, and Song Lan sighed. Xue Yang laughed at him, and crawled back towards him; this time he just sat up on his heels and began to unpick the tangles with his fingers. Song Lan allowed it, rather than risk another bout of wrestling.

"I don't understand why you're so disdainful of appropriate behaviour," Song Lan said. "You dress like a cultivator."

"I am a cultivator," Xue Yang said, with a pointed tug to his hair. "I like fancy things. And expensive things. But it doesn't matter, does it?"

"Of course it does. Proper behaviour - "

"I murdered your entire temple, Song Lan," Xue Yang said, and Song Lan breathed in, out. Xue Yang's fingers picked through his hair. Jiangzai lay on the other side of the fire and Fuxue was at his side. Xue Yang said it as easily as he said I hope she made his life miserable. "Does it really make a difference to your opinion of me if I wear pants?"

"Aren't you trying to be better?" Song Lan said, and heard the fresh chill in his voice. Xue Yang heard it too, his hands hesitating briefly before returning to work.

"So what, you can get past the murder but you draw the line at me getting my dick out?" Xue Yang laughed. "Not even getting it out, it's just out incidentally."

"It's a part of the same thing," Song Lan said. "Proper conduct. Treating others respectfully, to maintain the proper order of things."

"But I hate the proper order of things. Where's your comb?" Xue Yang's fingers wiggled in the corner of his vision, and Song Lan obediently passed up his comb. "You don't like the proper order of things either, you hate the sect system."

"I dislike the corruption of the sect system," Song Lan said. "The general principle that proper education should cultivate moral principles is sound."

"Well, Song-daozhang, there you are. I can't be expected to have moral principles, I didn't get a proper education."

"How did you cultivate a golden core, then?"

"I needed one," Xue Yang said. "So I cultivated one. No one taught me how to do it." Song Lan half-turned, trying to get a look at Xue Yang, who lifted the comb and raised an eyebrow. He was smiling, small and mean. "Someone must have done it first to teach others, right?" Xue Yang said. "I guess they needed it, too."

Song Lan had never considered that before. He had been taught that the cultivation of golden cores was naturally discovered through the development of more sophisticated meditation and intense self-discipline. He had pictured some particularly wise and serene ancient master blooming with the fruits of wisdom.

It hadn't occurred to him that need, desperation, desire, could draw that out. No wonder Xue Yang had so little discipline.

Xue Yang laid Song Lan's hair out over his shoulder in neat swathes, and then braided the sides, fast and deft. He put it up neatly, at the back of the head, and Song Lan touched it lightly to make sure it was smooth. Xue Yang put his hairpin into his hand, and he put it in place.

Xue Yang sprawled back down beside him, and looked up at him with assessing eyes. "So do you just assume that anyone with bad manners has no moral principles, Song-daozhang?" Song Lan just looked back at him, and Xue Yang grinned, toothy. "Because the worst people I've met - apart from me, of course - have had had good manners. Remember how perfect little Meng Yao's manners were? Such a gentleman. And then, of course, Jin Guangshun and Wen Ruohan. They all had work for a delinquent like me."

"Jin Guangshun?"

"Oh yes. He wanted to be the next Wen Ruohan. Didn't work out for him." Xue Yang laughed. "It's funny, isn't it? Jin Guangyao and the Yiling Patriarch stopped Wen Ruohan. Jin Guangshun brought down Wei Wuxian. Jin Guangyao brought down Jin Guangshun. I don't know where all the moral and well-behaved cultivators were. Getting their asses kicked, probably." He kicked his bare feet, and then said, "A-Qing."

"What about A-Qing?" Song Lan said, stiffness coming back to his shoulders.

"She barely had table manners, let alone proper conduct. Stole shit and cursed like a master. And then she spent all those years creeping round Yi City, driving away people she didn't even know so I couldn't hurt them." Xue Yang looked up, smile crooked. "Seems like she knew the important morals, according to you, even if she didn't have proper conduct."

"I don't say you can't have proper morals without proper conduct," Song Lan said. "Only that a person who treats others well in small things is likely to treat them well in the larger things."

"I don't see what that's got to do with being naked while my clothes dry," Xue Yang said. "Don't you daoists have better things to worry about?"

"Mencius wasn't a daoist," Song Lan said. "But he is a widely respected scholar with many interesting points of view."

"I don't respect any man who doesn't want to see his wife's tits," Xue Yang said. "How's that for a point of view?"

"Well," Song Lan said, and unfortunately a smile was trying to form, "It's interesting."

Xue Yang laughed, head tipping back, hair a messy torrent. His skinny body was flushed up after their wrestling; a surreptitious glance showed it hadn't affected him otherwise, his cock lying limp against his thigh. There were fine silver lines on his belly, areas of discoloration on his thighs, an ugly ridge of poorly-healed flesh up under his ribs. More scars than Song Lan would have imagined.

"That one almost killed me," Xue Yang said, and Song Lan jerked his gaze up. Xue Yang watched him, touched his fingers to the ugly scar. "The Wen did it to me. It was Wen Qing sewed me up; Wen Ruohan wanted me alive after I said I knew about the Yin iron. Wen Qing was a bitch but I liked her." He smiled. "I hear they burned her at the stake."

"Oh," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang arched an eyebrow. "I met her once. She was - kind."

"If it weren't for her I probably would have died in Nightless City," he said, and grinned. "Funny how things work out."

"She didn't deserve - " Song Lan fell silent.

"The Jins executed her. The justice of proper gentlemanly cultivators." He shook his head. "Some people say she never killed anyone, went to her death with clean hands. But then she healed me, Song Lan, and that's a river of blood right there."

"Like Xiao Xingchen," Song Lan said, and he gave a considering hum.

"Xiao Xingchen, at least, didn't know. Wen Qing healed me to get the Yin iron for Wen Ruohan, which..." Xue Yang scratched idly at the scar. "I don't know, actually, maybe he would have killed less than the Yiling Patriarch? Maybe I should have given the powerful weapon to the maniacal overlord."

"Was he maniacal?"

"Song Lan, I, Xue Yang, am telling you that Wen Ruohan was a crazy bastard with no respect for human life." Xue Yang tossed his head. "I don't know why anyone wants to rule the world anyway. It's a lot of work for not much reward."

They fell silent. Xue Yang closed his eyes, and smiled at some unknowable thought. Song Lan looked at him again, his scarred and bony body. Little better than an animal, without shame or guilt.

What would an animal be like if it were intelligent enough to defend its behaviour? Would those pack lizards say you kill us freely enough, why shouldn't we do the same?

When he went back to the cave, wearing just his inner clothes, robes hanging still slightly damp over his arm, he found Xiao Xingchen feeding scraps of fish to a small lizard, no taller than his knee.

"Zichen," he said, "Look, isn't it cute?"

"It's very small. Why are you feeding it?"

"I was thinking about what Xue Yang said. Maybe he's got a point. Oh, of course we have to defend ourselves, but maybe they are clever enough we could talk to them? I thought I'd try feeding one of these first, and look how well it's going." He gently ran his fingertips over its small head, and it made a chirruping noise and nosed at his hand. "No more, that's all our scraps, little one." He rose, shaking out his robes, and the lizard hopped hopefully around him for a minute or two before giving up and scuttling off into the undergrowth. He wasn't wearing his inner clothes, of course, and his robe gaped around his collarbones. Song Lan looked away, feeling his ears warm.

"So if they return again, you intend to try bribery?"

"Well," Xiao Xingchen said, and he laughed a little. "Perhaps. We'll see. We're all alive, and one of theirs is dead. I wonder if they can... have feelings about that?"

"You think they might want revenge?" Song Lan turned to hang his robes again, on the bony structure of their porch.

"It sounds ridiculous, I suppose."

"No, not really. We don't know anything about them." He turned back, and found Xiao Xingchen very close to him, looking up at him with wide dark eyes. "Is everything all right?"

"I don't know, really," he said. "Are you all right? I know this is very hard for you."

"I've had worse times," he said honestly, which didn't seem to comfort Xiao Xingchen. "You know, there was a time I would have said I'd give anything to be able to apologise to you. To tell you it wasn't your fault. And I've done that now, so - " he sighed. "I don't know that I would have paid the price it cost, in the end. But here, now, it feels - good." He wanted to reach out, to touch Xiao Xingchen; but his hands were grubby with fish and lizard, and instead Song Lan smiled at him. "I'd rather be here with you than anywhere else without you."

"Ah, Zichen," he said, and smiled his wide, beautiful smile. "The same is true for me."

Of course, Xue Yang chose that moment to reappear. He was still naked, arms full of damp clothes, and Xiao Xingchen gave him a startled look before looking away, flushed. Xue Yang cocked his head, and then laughed.

"I forgot, you've never seen before," he said, and then, "Fuck, A-Qing wasn't blind, was she? Probably peeped on us bathing all the time."

"Oh dear," Xiao Xinghen said, blushing deeper. "But really she was a polite girl, she wouldn't - "

"Mm hm." Xue Yang brushed past Song Lan and draped his and Xiao Xingchen's inner clothes along the porch. Then he unrolled his inner robe and hung it, too. Finally he shrugged back into his outer robe and pulled it around him. The near-translucent fabric didn't help much.

Song Lan looked away, again, and found that Xiao Xingchen was looking at Xue Yang.

"Xiao Xingchen," Xue Yang said, as indifferent as he had been to Song Lan's gaze, "You said the reeds were ready. Show us how to braid them."

"We need to soak them," Xiao Xingchen said, and Xue Yang threw up his hands. "I know, we just dried them."

"And what do we do after we soak them?" Xue Yang said.

"We... squeeze the water out of them," Xiao Xingchen said, sheepishly. "I don't know, it makes them flexible? They're not flexible now, they're stiff. It's just how it works. Get them wet and dry them out."

"How long do they need soaking for?" Xue Yang demanded, already starting to bundle up the reeds.

"A few hours? Are you going to put them in the stream?"

"Yeah, I'll wait with them. Tie them up into bundles and hopefully they won't all float away." He bounded away, and Song Lan looked at Xiao Xingchen and felt the question on his lips.

He didn't want to know. Perhaps it would be cruel to ask. It wasn't as if he'd ever been Xiao Xingchen's lover, though he'd thought about it, from time to time, had thought maybe, one day, there would be a time for him to ask.

"I know it must be difficult for you," Xiao Xingchen said, and Song Lan blinked at him, wondering if his thoughts had been read. "Perhaps I can talk to him, and we can work out a way for you to spend less time around each other."

"Some sort of rota?" Song Lan said. "It's... fine. He doesn't bother me, much."

It would be more accurate to say that Xue Yang bothered him constantly, even when he didn't appear to intend to. His opinions, words, and behaviour were all unsettling; perhaps his friendly gestures were even worse than the hostility. Song Lan could know where he stood, with hostility, but now he had neat braids and extra soap and no clear idea of why.

And any arrangement of time would lead to both Song Lan spending less time with Xiao Xingchen, and Xue Yang spending time alone with Xiao Xingchen, neither of which were desirable outcomes.

That evening they used rocks to try and squash the excess water out of the reeds, with indifferent success. At least they were flexible now, and Xiao Xingchen showed them the braiding patterns to make palm-wide strips that could then be bound together into mats. Xue Yang picked it up deftly, probably practised from the way he braided his own hair. Song Lan kept up reasonably well, if slower.

"Too bad we can't tell stories to while away the time," Xue Yang said, wrinkling his nose at Xiao Xingchen, who smiled, and then frowned as if remembering something troubling. "Although we've got Song-daozhang now, don't we? Do you know any good stories?"

"Not really," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang sighed. He tipped his head sideways, and pouted like a sulking child.

"Don't be boring, Song-daozhang," he said. "Didn't anyone ever tell you a story?"

Song Lan let out a huff of amused breath, and then said, "What, do you want to hear a children's story? Or an educational fable, perhaps with a moral you can learn from?"

"Ah, that's what went wrong in my childhood," Xue Yang said. "Not enough educational fables. Well, it's never too late, is it?"

Song Lan didn't tell stories well; he'd instructed the younger students at the temple from time to time, but not the very young ones. He would have refused, but Xiao Xingchen's frown had gone, and he was looked at Song Lan with interest.

"Once there was a wealthy and powerful man," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang booed him. "Do you want to hear the story or not?"

"Song Lan, you'll never be a travelling storyteller if you curl up at the first boo. You have to be able to shout while they throw rotten fruit at you."

"Hush, Yang'er," Xiao Xingchen said, and Xue Yang scowled and bent over his braiding. "Go on, Zichen."

"A wealthy and powerful man, who lived by the sea and loved to watch the gulls as they flew overhead. One morning, a seagull fell down wounded onto the terrace he watched from, and he called for his doctors to heal it. He put it in a cage as its wound healed, and called for his cooks to bring it fine foods, sweets, fruit. It wouldn't eat, and though its wound healed, it wasted away and died."

There was a pause. Xiao Xingchen looked a little puzzled. Xue Yang said, "Then what happened?"

"That's the end," Song Lan said.

"What's the moral?" Xue Yang said, and grinned. "Is it don't pick up wounded scavengers because that's a little bit close to home, Song-daozhang -"

"No, that's not it."

"What is it, then?" Xiao Xingchen said.

"It teaches that sometimes love is just selfishness. The wealthy man thought of himself and his own desires, caging the seagull and feeding it food he would have liked."

Xiao Xingchen nodded. Xue Yang lifted his head and gave Song Lan a long, considering look, but didn't say anything. Perhaps it had been a bad choice.

"I think I'll get some sleep," Xiao Xingchen said, and rose. Xue Yang raised an eyebrow at Song Lan, who raised his in turn.

"You didn't say it," Xue Yang said, his grin wide, and Song Lan sighed.

"I won't kill you tonight," he said, dutifully, and Xue Yang settled back to his braiding. Xiao Xingchen was already curled up in his blanket, leaving them to sort it out.

Xue Yang worked on his braid steadily, though his fingers turned rough and red. Song Lan set his own down after an hour, the soreness verging on pain. "Doesn't it hurt?" he said, and Xue Yang shrugged.

"Not really," he said, though there was visible swelling around the joints of his forefingers. When the skin finally split, a fine line of blood appearing, he just switched his grip to pull with his middle fingers, and began to work bruises into them.

The next morning, Xue Yang was braiding patiently away when Xiao Xingchen said, "Xue Yang!" in the most startled voice Song Lan had ever heard from him. Xue Yang froze, and looked up at him, and Xiao Xingchen said, "Your finger."

Xue Yang dropped the braid and curled his hands into fists, hiding them in his lap.

All ten fingers tucked neatly away, and Song Lan said, "But - "

"What?" Xue Yang said, sullen, defensive; a startling change of demeanour, his eyes opaque and lightless black.

"I - how?" Xiao Xingchen said. "I don't understand. I thought you said we were going back to Yueyang, and you had nine fingers then - "

"Shut up," Xue Yang said. "I didn't - I told you, I got things wrong."

Song Lan said, "We must have gone to Yueyang... in passing, at least, because we have our things. But then - "

"I don't know," Xue Yang said. "Or at least, I don't know much."

Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan exchanged a glance, and Xiao Xingchen said, carefully, "I'm glad your hand isn't injured any more, Xue Yang, but I'm concerned about what you're keeping from us."

He sat down close to Xue Yang, and tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear. Xue Yang sighed, and leaned closer, his mouth relaxing into a lopsided smile.

"I don't suppose you'd trust me if I said it wasn't important?" Xue Yang said. "No, well, I suppose I can't blame you." He pulled off his glove, and the leather finger peeled right off a real finger. "I took the stuffing out on the first day," he admitted. "There was a lot happening. And then we weren't going back, so it didn't matter."

"What's that got to do with it?" Song Lan said.

"I wasn't entirely truthful about what happened when I brought us here. It had been a long... well, long fucking decade, really. The years just got longer. And I had a feeling. I don't know. Jin Guangyao was freaking out, which I wouldn't care about, but I had a feeling. I needed the ritual done as fast as possible, and I didn't get much sleep working on it. I was going to catch up afterwards, then take my time setting up the talismans, maybe test it, but... feeling. So as soon as it was done I just rolled straight on, didn't even nap. Really should have taken a nap. Because I'd thought about when to take us back to, and I'd finally settled on Yueyang, because that was where shit got personal. Before Yueyang, we were strangers." He shook his head, as if the idea was strange to him. "But then when I was doing it - I was really tired. I remembered what I'd said about you coming down from the mountain and I thought maybe I should take you back before that, so you'd wake up on your mountain and never have to have any of that fucked up shit happen to you.

"And then I thought, why stop there? Why not go back to - to before - when I had all my fingers. And then I thought, if we were going to go back to before any bad shit happened at all, we'd have to go back before there were any people at all.

"And, well, here we are. I don't know why you've got your Yueyang shit and I've got my finger back. Maybe we didn't even go to those times. Maybe it's not even a different time and it's all just some weird dream I'm having sacked out on the floor in the coffin house." Xue Yang's expression flickered, and he looked between them. "Maybe I'm going to wake up with two corpses again."

"Yang'er," Xiao Xingchen said, and Xue Yang shook his head, and looked away.

"Would you like me to pinch you," Song Lan said, "To make sure you're not dreaming? Or stick you with a pin? Or a knife?"

"That's very generous of you," Xue Yang said, looking back, smile in place. "I'll pass. Look, I didn't mention it because it didn't matter because we're not going back."

"Does that mean we can't go back?" Song Lan said with a sudden lurch of alarm. He was resigned to staying, he was, and yet -

"Oh, we can, I just need to not get distracted or who the fuck knows where we could end up. I thought if I told you all that you might not be very confident about it. I was just - I was really tired."

Xiao Xingchen glanced at Song Lan, and Song Lan shrugged.

"He never slept enough. He was up at all hours the weeks before we came here, though." He remembered, but it was like looking through thick glass at the memories.

"Oh shit, were you paying attention all that time?" Xue Yang said, and giggled. "It didn't occur to me you'd ever be able to tell anyone." Then he frowned. "You already told about, uh…"

"That you made him kill," Xiao Xingchen said, and Xue Yang said, "Yeah." Then he said, quietly, "I was mad at you. I thought - you might come back. To stop me."

"Xue Yang," Xiao Xingchen said, and he sounded more tired than anything. Xue Yang sat up, lifted his chin and stared Xiao Xingchen down. Xiao Xingchen sighed, and then said, "I was going to find some trees today, for the sleeping platform. You'll come with me?"

"Sure," Xue Yang said. He relaxed a little, glancing between them as if he expected a trap. Song Lan shrugged at him.

Time passed. They built two acceptable beds, with frames of wood and bone and straps of reed braid stretched across them. One solely for Song Lan, and the other traded between Xue Yang and Xiao Xingchen. Sometimes, Xiao Xingchen would wake Xue Yang up by stroking his hair; once or twice he saw Xue Yang curl himself around Xiao Xingchen's waist and murmur something to make him laugh.

If Song Lan wasn't there -

Well, if Song Lan wasn't there, they'd be sleeping shifts anyway. But he didn't think they'd stop at hair-stroking.

They didn't seem to mind, though; Xiao Xingchen smiled at him every day, delighted with him, and Xue Yang showed no particular inclination to separate Xiao Xingchen from him. The worst he would do was grumble if Xiao Xingchen decided he wanted to spend time alone with Song Lan, walking and talking, like the old days, and he could soon be returned to a better mood by the renewal of Xiao Xingchen's attention. A smile, a touch from Xiao Xingchen's hand. Yang'er in fond tones had him hunching up, flustered.

Xue Yang was busying himself designing a protective array to seal their porch, so nothing could come in. It would be useful to have, but it was apparently a tricky job due to the shape of the porch and that he wasn't sure if a ward against animals would protect against creatures that generated their own resentful energy. It would be nice, not to have to be alert all night.

He still refused to sleep unless Xiao Xingchen was watching over him. Xiao Xingchen had said, exasperated, that Song Lan wouldn't kill him in his sleep, and Xue Yang had just shrugged.

"I murdered his whole family," he said. "Why wouldn't he kill me in my sleep? It's not the sort of thing you forgive, is it?"

It wasn't. But Song Lan found it hard to imagine killing Xue Yang in his sleep. He still thought, sometimes, about killing him; he'd once found deep satisfaction in the idea. Now, he just pictured Xue Yang's wide dark eyes, blood pooling out onto the dirt, and wondered if he'd laugh.

He might yet kill Xue Yang. He wouldn't mourn, or feel regret. But he wouldn't enjoy it, and that was good. Bloodlust and vengeance were not qualities he admired in himself, and he didn't want them clouding his judgement.

Xue Yang, after all, thrived on the bad judgement of others.

*

Xue Yang finished his perimeter talisman, and proudly demonstrated it; it fit smoothly to the cave mouth, enclosed their porch, let the smoke out, and chimed musically when anything did pass through it.

"And it should stop anything without a golden core passing through," he said. "We could throw Xiao Xingchen's pet lizard at it to check."

"Leave him alone," Xingchen said. "He's a good boy."

Said good boy was napping in the remains of the fire, smeared with soot but apparently enjoying the last of the heat. Xiao Xingchen really would adopt anything.

Song Lan stepped through their door, which hung at a weird angle but worked okay, considering. The perimeter chimed, and again when he stepped back through. He went to check the awkward join between bone and rock - there was a huge thigh bone set just inside the mouth of the cave each side, but there was enough space for a slender creature to squirm through. Song Lan wriggled his hand through the gap, and the alarm chimed.

"Impressive," Song Lan conceded, and Xue Yang beamed at him. "I wouldn't have thought you could build a ward around such an impermanent structure."

"I can take you through the workings if you like," Xue Yang said.

"Save them for the long winter evenings," Song Lan said dryly, and Xue Yang laughed. The back of the cave was stacked head-high with firewood, now, and they'd started to fill a second cave. The leaves were falling steadily, and there was a chill snap in the air.

Xiao Xingchen's pet woke up, and hopped to the door; it bounced off the invisible wall, which chimed. It made an annoyed chirp, and tried again.

"Oh no," Xiao Xingchen said.

"It's fine, just carry him through," Xue Yang said. He wasn't an idiot, after all; it had taken him about thirty seconds to realise Xiao Xingchen would want his pet.

Xiao Xingchen carefully hooked his hand under the animal and hoisted it through; it made an alarmed little noise, and then settled, nosing back at the invisible barrier.

"I think it'll work against the pack lizards," Xue Yang said, "But I can't guarantee it because I don't really know what they are. It'll stop spiritual beasts, animals, fierce corpses, but I don't know if any of that will cover them. But then, we haven't seen them in a while, so maybe they gave up."

"But they might come back if they get desperate," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang nodded. Desperation could do a lot. Song Lan looked considering, and Xue Yang waited to see if he was going to come up with anything good. "We could leave for the day," Song Lan suggested. "See if anything... gets in."

Xiao Xingchen pursed his lips. They hadn't seen so much as a shining eye of the pack lizards since their failed ambush, though Xue Yang had done a little poking about, following their tracks when the sun was high. He hadn't mentioned it, on the grounds the daoshi might tell him to stop, and then he'd be actually deceiving them instead of just not telling them. It wasn't like they asked what he was up to, after all, and that was what he'd tell them if, in the course of events, they found reason to complain.

"I suppose we might as well," Xiao Xingchen said. "The sea, again, or somewhere new? We could collect more seaweed. Two of them were quite nice. If we can dry them, and lay in a stock for winter - "

"That sounds like a good idea," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang didn't mind either way, so that was decided. They set out just as a cold dawn was greying in, skimming just over the treetops on their swords, casting wary glances up towards distantly circling shapes which were probably just the gull-sized ones.

They walked from the edge of the basin again, because it wasn't much more than an hour from there. Xue Yang suspected they were showing courtesy to his weak golden core, which was annoying. On the other hand, he'd rather conserve his energy, in case one day Song Lan just snapped and went for him.

It was always a bad idea to get complacent. Xue Yang had been stabbed over that before.

He seemed in a decent mood now, wading through knee-high ferns, his black robes decorated with tiny green particles like delicate embroidery. He didn't even scowl when he caught Xue Yang's eye. Xue Yang said, "You know, this place could be packed with rabbits, and we wouldn't see them because of the ferns."

"True," Song Lan said, looking down at the deep vegetation. "Perhaps we should set traps, and see what we catch?"

"Snares are very cruel," Xiao Xingchen said, and Xue Yang sighed.

"I know, daozhang, no snares." A thought occurred, and he said, "Maybe we could train your little lizard to hunt them." Xiao Xingchen smiled, and Xue Yang elaborated, "We could get a whole pack, chasing down food for us."

"But then we'd have to feed them," Song Lan said.

"Well, the theory is they'd catch more food than they eat," Xue Yang said. "Like people use dogs and hawks to hunt. I wonder if we could tame the flying lizards?"

"It sounds like a lot of work," Song Lan said.

"Did you have an important job elsewhere, Song-daozhang?"

"I thought I might try paper-making," Song Lan said. "I can make a frame the same way we made the sleeping platforms, and stretch some fine fabric over it. Maybe that outer robe you have?"

The silk gauze robe was very nice, but it wasn't like it was warm. He'd rather have paper, and then he could work on making suitable talismans to keep their cave warm.

"Do that then," Xue Yang said. "If we can get talisman paper then everything else gets easier."

"We'll see," Song Lan said. "It's something to work on over winter. I wish we knew how cold it was going to be."

"Maybe we should fill in some more of the gaps in the porch," Xue Yang said. "The moss will probably fall out eventually, right? Smaller bones?"

"You can build with blocks of earth," Xiao Xingchen said, and Xue Yang considered that. It wasn't like they had many options. Perhaps an outer ring of dirt wall to cut the wind would help?

Their home in Yi City had been cosy in comparison, really. "Maybe we could make screens out of more rush matting," he suggested, and Xiao Xingchen smiled at him.

"We'll need to collect more reeds," he said, and Xue Yang shrugged. His fingers were still rough from the braiding, but the soreness would be gone long before they'd dried and wetted and dried another batch of reeds.

What else did they have to do, after all?

They wandered down the cliff a little further, this time, and found another cove. This one had what seemed to be a rotting carcase swept up by the tide, longer than Song Lan. Its belly had been torn open by something, and it seethed with feasting small life, clouds of the lizard-birds like flies. Song Lan wrinkled his nose even from the top of the cliff at the smell that reached them. So they went further, and the cliff plunged far enough they could probably have reached the beach even if they didn't fly. It had collapsed into a spill of rocks that tumbled out into the sea like a causeway, and the glitter of rockpools were clearly visible, as well as rich fields of seaweed and what looked like more of those shelled things he'd pretended to choke on. He could collect some of those, probably; they'd been all right. He'd find a sharp rock instead of using his knife.

He should really work on finding substitutes for knives, so he could save them for emergencies. It was hard to get into the mindset of knowing they'd be the last knives he'd ever had, these were the last robes he'd ever have, these two men were the only other people he'd ever see.

Anyone would pick Xiao Xingchen as the person to spend eternity trapped with, and there were certainly worse options than Song Lan. If it hadn't been for the murderous grudge it would have been quite a pleasant arrangement.

The beach was only partly sand. Some of it was big, flat rocks, with even more seaweed clinging to it, and crabs making their idle way across it. Xue Yang trotted down towards the water, and Song Lan said, "Be careful, don't get bitten."

Xue Yang made a face at the water. Song Lan walked on along the beach, and Xue Yang selected a suitable knife and began cropping seaweed. If they didn't eat it, it would probably make good fuel, but it looked close to the stuff that had tasted okay.

There were white crystals of salt dried on, too, so maybe they could scrape some of that off, or soak it in the water they used to cook rice.

Xiao Xingchen was looking up at the cliff they'd flown down over; he said, "There are some small caves, but I think they're being used for nesting."

"Great. You got that basket you made?" Xue Yang scanned the sky; the lizard-birds were all in flight today, maybe spurred into effort by the carcass a cove over. "Or maybe not. If you get mobbed by those things you might fall off your sword."

"I'll just go and have a look," Xiao Xingchen said, and set up off the beach. Xue Yang took off his boots and hitched up his robe to wade into the sea. The rock platform dropped away sharply, and he peered down into dark water. How deep did it go? He could swim, but not very well - maybe he'd get some practice in. Probably in shallower waters to start, though. It might be fun to dive down and see how deep it went. Were there interesting things at the bottom of the sea? Bigger fish, probably.

"There's a cave here!" Xiao Xingchen called, the wind shredding his voice to barely anything. Xue Yang turned, feet sliding on the smooth rock, and squinted at him. Xiao Xingchen waved, white sleeve like a gull's wing, and yelled again, "There's a cave! It looks big!"

"Don't go in!" Song Lan yelled from the rocks, where he'd picked his way down the causeway, over the sea like an oversized cormorant ready to dive.

"I'm going to go in!" Xiao Xingchen yelled, and Xue Yang laughed, and saw Song Lan shake his head. Well, Xiao Xingchen probably wouldn't encounter anything he couldn't handle in there. Almost certainly.

He paddled along the rock edge, keeping half an eye on his feet to make sure he didn't actually step on a crab, and half an eye on Song Lan, whose attention was equally divided between watching his feet and looking back in Xiao Xingchen's general direction.

When it happened, Song Lan was looking over his shoulder and Xue Yang was looking right at him. One moment Song Lan stood with his robe a billowing black flag against the blue sky; the next there was a head as big as a horse, water surging around it, and Song Lan vanished down into the water without even making a sound.

The water slapped hard against the rocks, and then there was nothing.

Xue Yang's mouth opened. He blinked at the empty space, the sloshing water. It seemed simply impossible that Song Lan should be gone, just like that - one moment present, the next - not.

"Daozhang!" he bellowed, a bubble of wild energy bursting in him, and he set a signal flare off in the general direction of the cliff. Jiangzai bloomed to life in his hand, and he dived into the water, trailing behind Jiangzai like the tail of a comet.

It wasn't as dark as he'd thought. He could see in shades of blue and grey, and below there was a massive cloud of bubbles and disturbed water and dislodged silt. He plunged towards it, and Jiangzai scraped along something harder than flesh, the shock jolting against his hand. Blood flowered, and a shockwave of force tumbled him as whatever the fuck it was rolled and thrashed.

Xue Yang bolted upwards, breaking the surface for long enough to breathe, and dived again, into a blinding confusion of water that spun him about. Something hit him and cracked him against the wall of rock. His mouth tasted of blood and salt.

Something died, down in the darkness, and Xue Yang closed his eyes, saw only throbbing darkness for a second.

It wasn't Song Lan, he realised after an endless moment, it was a tiny feeble life letting loose a breath of bestial energy. But it would be soon.

Xue Yang had never tested his qiankun sleeve underwater, but it worked. He folded his fingers around the Yin Tiger Tally, and for the first time in weeks he felt his spirit expand.

He opened his eyes. Beneath him, he saw the great pulsing vitality of the monstrous fish, and a dozen smaller beasts caught up in the turmoil, and hundreds of minuscule spirits. He could hear great thundering heartbeats out in the depths, bigger things even than this beast, and the decaying ruins of them on the sea floor.

The blood in the water spread wider and wider, and hungry attention was turning to them, as if they'd spilt it in a graveyard.

And there, beneath him, was the soul he'd know anywhere in the world, that he'd dragged back from death once to walk at his side, and then again into true life. He wasn't going to give up what was his, not to death or to a giant fucking fish.

He dived towards the dense golden energy that was Song Lan, held deep down in the jaws of the animal. His closed fist bumped along roughly textured skin, and dark spots danced in Xue Yang's vision. He gritted his teeth against his body's clamour for air, and kicked deeper, his hand rubbing along a great curved tooth, and finally finding a billow of fabric. Song Lan's body was limp, but he wasn't dead yet, and Xue Yang wrapped one arm around him, and stabbed Jiangzai into where he thought an eye might be.

The water rushed around him as the monster thrashed, jerking Song Lan's body, and Xue Yang curled tighter around him and worked Jiangzai deeper into flesh. His lungs burned. It seemed an age before the monster finally opened its mouth to let out a bellow of agony, and Xue Yang kicked his leg against the vibrating skull, yanked Jiangzai free, and pointed her skywards.

Light and air crashed in on him, and he sucked in a massive breath and tumbled them both onto the nearest rock. Song Lan was too fucking heavy for him to fly with, but that thing had grabbed him off the rock in the first place, so Xue Yang hauled him desperately up with his arms hooked under his armpits, dragging him further from the wild surf that indicated something was still going on under the water. His leg wasn't responding right, the muscles spasming and twitching, but Xue Yang had never taken shit from his body in the past and wasn't about to start.

He cast a desperate look towards the shore, and saw Xiao Xingchen racing down the ridge of rocks, barely brushing his feet against them as he took great leaps like a gazelle. Thank fuck.

"He's too heavy for me," he croaked out as Xiao Xingchen closed in. "Fly him out of here, go on, I can't carry him."

Xiao Xingchen hauled Song Lan up and threw him over his shoulder with enviable ease; he drew Shuanghua and stepped onto it, and said, "Get on - "

"I've got Jiangzai, go on," Xue Yang said. It was true as far as it went, but he didn't think he was quite up to flying yet. It was also true that steering a sword while bodily carrying one person and with another as a passenger would be a lot even for Xiao Xingchen's golden core.

Xiao Xingchen, trusting as ever, took him at his word and launched up towards the cliff edge. Xue Yang limped up the rocks to the highest point, his leg trembling. He thought it had gotten fucked it up when he got smacked against the rock wall, and his head and back were aching, too. He dragged his hand over his mouth and grimaced at the pink smear. At least all his teeth were firmly seated.

He heard the water tear, and the scrape of rough skin on rock. Turning, he saw that the monster was more like a giant lizard than a fish, with stubby legs clawing at the rocks as it dragged itself up. Blood ran freely from the gash on its muzzle, and it looked at him with stone-black eyes, with an intensity that said it knew he'd been the one to hurt it. Xue Yang giggled, and let Jiangzai fall away, back to his sleeve.

"Song Lan says you assholes haven't learned to fear humans yet," he said, as its mouth gaped open, bellow ringing off the cliffs and sending every lizard-bird startling away. He lifted the Yin Tiger Tally, and the sweet ecstasy of power swirled around him. He smiled. "You're going to."

He snapped his fingers, and felt the sea heave as the wreckage of some ancient beast tore itself from the sea floor, shaking off scavengers, shoals of fish flying from its cavities. It rose up on a tide of resentful energy to sink its teeth into the trailing tail of the beast that had dared to touch what was Xue Yang's.

He could swear there was a look of surprise in its black eyes as it was dragged back down into the water; Xue Yang laughed at it, loud and jangling, and watched the water froth and toss and turn pink and finally bubble up in a great surge of resentful energy that Xue Yang pulled into the Yin Tiger Tally.

"Thanks," he told the sinking corpse, and sat down, just for a moment. He let the fierce corpse fall, tumbling apart into its component parts of flesh and bone, and checked himself over to make sure blood wasn't pouring out anywhere. Something might be up inside - there was a small cut in his inner cheek, but he'd spat out more blood than that could really account for. His hair was matted with blood at the back of his head, already scabbing up, so that was fine.

Well. Time to get out of here while he still held the field. He trudged back along the rocks, watching his feet, and was almost at the shore when Xiao Xingchen swooped back down out of nowhere and scooped him firmly onto Shuanghua.

"I'm fine, daozhang," he said, and got a loud, dissatisfied sigh as they rose into the air. "What did you do with Song Lan?"

Xiao Xingchen's face was severe with concern, lips tight and brow furrowed, and Xue Yang was fairly sure that meant Song Lan was mostly all right. He let Xiao Xingchen support his weight to the top of the cliff, where Song Lan was propped in a sitting position against a rock, face pale and slack with unconsciousness. There was one of the lizard-birds perched on the rock, inspecting him closely; when they landed, it took off, winging away. Xiao Xingchen frowned after it.

"I can't put him down for long, not with so many beasts, and I'm not sure I can manage you both." He knelt down at Song Lan's side and beginning to feel at his leg. "And Yang'er, if the word fine crosses your lips again - "

"Fi- all right," Xue Yang said. "Give me a minute to just... catch my breath, okay, then I can fly. Or why don't you go ahead? I'll catch up."

Xiao Xingchen gave him a narrow-eyed look, and said, "Sit down." Xue Yang obeyed, and then reached for Song Lan's wrist. His pulse was fluttery, but his qi felt stable, so hopefully the healing would go well.

Xue Yang hadn't seen him like this, limp and bloody, since he'd lain in the dirt of Yi City. Then, of course, it hadn't mattered, but now Xiao Xingchen would know if he died, would be hurt and grieve, and Xue Yang didn't want that.

"His leg is badly broken," Xiao Xingchen said. "And he must have breathed in water; I think I got it all out of him, but..."

"Daozhang, be reasonable," Xue Yang said, in his most reasonable voice. He picked some seaweed out of the disaster of Song Lan's hair. "Take him back. You have to get him warm and splint his leg. I'm not going to pass out, and I can fly if I have to. I'll start back, and if I'm not there by the time you've got him settled, you can come fetch me."

Xiao Xingchen bit his lip, visibly torn. It was sweet, really, and Xue Yang would have very much enjoyed seeing him torn between who to take care of, if he hadn't had a strong opinion himself.

"I'll wrap his leg up for now," Xiao Xingchen decided, and his own belt and Xue Yang's served for that. Hopefully they didn't get stained. It was hard to tell on all that black, but he thought there was a lot of blood. Xiao Xingchen sat on his heels, and stared at Xue Yang. "Promise me you'll be careful."

"Promise. You know I'm hard to kill. I'll walk back slow, and if anything looks at me like I'm dinner, I'll get on the sword. Go on, the longer you leave his leg the more fucked up it will be.

"Be careful," Xiao Xingchen said again, and he touched Xue Yang's cheek, and then leaned in and brushed his lips over Xue Yang's forehead, light as a moth's touch. Xue Yang blinked at him, and Xiao Xingchen turned away, gathering Song Lan's limp form up and slinging it over his shoulders. Song Lan groaned, but didn't wake up, and Xue Yang took his place against the rock, not letting his hurt leg give way.

"I'll stay here for a bit then start back," he said, with his best careless smile. "Go on."

Finally, Xiao Xingchen stepped on his sword and flew away, and Xue Yang let his smile slide off and closed his eyes, just for a second. After an indeterminate time, there was a little scratching sound, and he turned his head to see the lizard bird was back, eyeing him speculatively.

"If I die here, it's going to be bitten in half by one of those big fuckers, you hear me?" Xue Yang said. "I won't be scavenged.." The lizard-bird hopped away as he got up, slowly. He rummaged in his sleeve and found his waterskin, and swilled his mouth clean, spitting afterwards. Whatever was happening inside, he didn't want to mess with it. His whole abdomen was bloated, and his breathing was coming shallower than he'd like.

But his leg seemed to be working better, or at least it didn't seem like it was going to give way. Xue Yang found he could amble along without his muscles seizing, if he moved at a tediously slow speed. That was fine. Xiao Xingchen was going to be fully occupied for a while fussing over Song Lan. Xue Yang was just going to enjoy the memory of Xiao Xingchen's lips on his brow, the warm look in his eyes.

He couldn't even say he'd missed it. Xiao Xingchen had never looked at him like that, never seen him. Xue Yang shivered. That look had been all for Xue Yang.

Too bad Song Lan was going to be flopping and bleeding all over the place. The man was nothing but an inconvenience.

But if hauling his carcass out of the deep got him Xiao Xingchen's gratitude, well, that almost made it worthwhile to put up with him. And it had been satisfying, to stretch himself again. The size of that fierce corpse. If Xue Yang had one of those in their own time - he gave a happy sigh at the thought of the havoc he could wreak.

Xiao Xingchen wouldn't like it, of course, but maybe he could persuade him that the Wens deserved it. Picturing the look on Wen Ruohan's face when Xue Yang rode a rotting undead dragon into his throne room was - well, not the most beautiful dream he'd ever had, but certainly in his top five.

He'd made Jin Guangyao tell him the story of Wen Ruohan's death half a dozen times; he'd been reticent at first, until he realised Xue Yang didn't care about all the petty drama with Nie Mingjue and just wanted to know the face Wen Ruohan made when he realised he'd fallen for flattery and fawning and been stabbed in the back again, literally this time. Jin Guangyao had smiled very bright and dimpled when telling that part of the story.

Time travel, he reflected, opened up plenty of exciting opportunities for revenge. You could revenge yourself on people before they'd even wronged you, which was clearly the best time, as they wouldn't be expecting it at all.

It took him far too long to reach the basin, and he sat down at the edge of the fishing pool. He could see the long, rearing necks of the giants wandering the basin, and wondered again if there was anything that could kill them, or if they were just too damn big.

He was gearing up to get on his sword and make the hop across the stream when he saw Xiao Xingchen flying towards him, and got up with a sigh of relief. Not that he couldn't manage, but it was definitely easier to ride with him. And Xiao Xingchen didn't object when Xue Yang put his face down in Xiao Xingchen's shoulder, and breathed in the smell of his body, sweaty and warm. Xiao Xingchen even put an arm around his waist to hold him steady, which made the journey feel all too short.

"The sealing talisman either worked or wasn't tested," he said as they stepped down into their campsite. "Come and let me look at you."

Xue Yang went into the cave; the fire was lit, and a pot of water was simmering away on the stones. He checked Song Lan's pulse again; he was lying still as death, but it took more than that to fool Xue Yang. Still, it wasn't pleasant to see him like that, worrying Xiao Xingchen.

His leg was strapped up with sticks, their belts, and some of the reed braid. It didn't look comfortable at all. The skin of his thigh was already glossy purple with blood pooled under the surface. Xue Yang laid the blanket back down.

"Sit down, let me look at your head."

"Song Lan's cold," he said, feeling the chill skin of his shoulder, and Xiao Xingchen sighed.

"We don't have any more blankets. The fire will warm him soon," he said, and took firm hold of Xue Yang. "Sit."

Xue Yang sat, and let Xiao Xingchen wash the wound on his head. Really, it had already been washed out thoroughly with salt water, but Xiao Xingchen didn't seem to find that reasoning compelling. He prodded his long fingers against Xue Yang's scalp, ignoring his complaint, and concluded he hadn't cracked his skull, which Xue Yang could have told him.

"Let me worry," Xiao Xingchen said, like he didn't spend far too much time worrying, and then he tipped Xue Yang's head back and kissed him on the forehead again, so he could worry a little bit if he really wanted to. Xue Yang's fingers curled unbidden into the soft white fall of his robes.

"We can heat up rocks," he said, and Xiao Xingchen raised his eyebrows. "Rocks, fire, bed."

"Oh, of course," Xiao Xingchen said, brightening, and Xue Yang hauled himself up. "Stay where you are."

"No, you have to watch Song Lan," Xue Yang said. "You know he won't be happy if you let me alone with him while he's sleeping."

"It would be a waste of your afternoon if you did something to him now," Xiao Xingchen said, following him out, and Xue Yang giggled.

"Well, you can explain that to him. Give me the waterskins, too, I'll fill them up so you can clean him. There's sea stuff in his hair, he'll be so grossed out."

Lifting rocks half the size of his head wasn't exactly comfortable, his interior clenching tight with every move, but he got three of them back to sit almost in the fire, and then went for more water.

"You're limping," Xiao Xingchen said when he got back with that.

"No I'm not," Xue Yang said, not very convincingly, and Xiao Xingchen, the bitch, poked him in the belly.

Xue Yang doubled over with a savage curse, and snapped at Xiao Xingchen's hand when he reached out again.

"I'm sorry, Yang'er," he said, sounding contrite. "I didn't realise it was that bad."

"It's not," Xue Yang said, and then, "Fuck off."

Xiao Xingchen, of course, didn't fuck off, because he'd figured out Xue Yang was whipped, which was so infuriating Xue Yang wanted to bite him for real. But Xiao Xingchen gently took hold of his arm and urged him to straighten, and then began untying his robes.

"Forward, Xiao Xingchen," Xue Yang said, and Xiao Xingchen shook his head, smiling.

"Your clothes are still damp, and you need to get warm and dry and let me look at your injuries," he said. "If you want me to stop worrying, you can stop worrying me."

Xue Yang's stomach had an nasty swollen look to it; Xiao Xingchen frowned over it, and gave him an elixir, which tasted unpleasant. Xue Yang endured it with a sigh, and obediently washed himself clean of salt and blood when Xiao Xingchen brought the pot of hot water over. Xiao Xingchen made a little noise of distress at the sight of his back where he'd been slammed against the rock.

"It's just bruising," Xue Yang said, and sat docile to let Xiao Xingchen stroke featherlight down over his ribs and feel each bump of his spine.

"Nothing seems to be cracked or broken," Xiao Xingchen said, when Xue Yang's skin was tingling with the touch. "You should heal very quickly, if you rest." He gave Xue Yang his own outer robe, and then lifted the blanket covering Song Lan. "Get in next to him, will you? I'm going to put the hot stones on his other side."

"You're joking," Xue Yang said, but Xiao Xingchen looked calmly back at him.

"We don't have any more blankets and you both need to be warm," Xiao Xingchen said. "It's not going to get much warmer than this, and I'm concerned about Song Lan's lungs; he breathed in water as well as swallowing it. I'm afraid of infection and fever."

"He's a cultivator," Xue Yang said. This was, clearly, all bullshit designed to make Xue Yang lie down and rest, which he really didn't want to do, but Xiao Xingchen fixed those dark, imploring eyes on him.

"His leg is badly broken, his lungs are at risk, he's almost as badly bruised as you are," Xiao Xingchen said. "It's not like there's a doctor we can go to. Please."

They could go to any doctor in the world, pretty much, with the right application of the time-travel ritual. Or hell, he was fairly sure he could just push them back into nice healthy bodies in their own time.

But he was tired and his body was being distracting, and he doubted he could talk Xiao Xingchen into it right now. So he slid onto the bed beside Song Lan, who grunted in his sleep and shifted towards him. He really was cold; Xue Yang could feel it even through Xiao Xingchen's robe. He fitted himself carefully into Song Lan's side, threw an arm and a leg over him, and Xiao Xingchen carefully tucked him in, and went to fetch the stones. He put one of them down by their feet, and Xue Yang let out a sigh of pleasure at the heat.

"He's going to be mad at you," Xue Yang predicted, and then, "Where's his stupid sword?"

"I have it," Xiao Xingchen said. "If you want to do each other any harm, you'll have to do it with your fingernails."

Xue Yang turned that one over for a few seconds, and then realised he'd let Xiao Xingchen take his robe, take Jiangzai. He started to sit up, and Xiao Xingchen put a hand on his shoulder.

"I won't let anything happen," he said. "Zichen won't even be able to get up for days, all right? Just lie still. Let me get your hair, it's a mess." He sat down on the other platform, and began to take down Xue Yang's hair.

He was really fucked tired, honestly. And it wasn't like Xiao Xingchen was a risk to him. He was pretty sure. If he ever was, it surely wasn't today when Xue Yang had fished Song Lan out of the sea. That had definitely earned him credit. If he'd known Xiao Xingchen would kiss him over it, he would have shoved Song Lan in himself.

Xiao Xingchen very gently untangled the mess of his hair, careful not to pull on his scalp wound. Xue Yang pressed his cheek against Song Lan's shoulder, which was broad and comfortable. If he angled his head right he could hear Song Lan's heartbeat, which was reassuring, and a faint wheeze in his breathing, which was less so. Still, he had a strong golden core, and Xiao Xingchen looking out for him. He'd recover.

"Daozhang," he murmured, and stayed awake just long enough to hear Xiao Xingchen say, "Yang'er?"

He woke up in the warm dim flicker of firelight, and said, "Daozhang?" again, mumbled against Song Lan's skin. He was much warmer now, which Xue Yang decided to feel proud of.

"I'm here," Xiao Xingchen said, in the remote voice that meant he was still pretty deep in meditation. "Do you need anything? Don't get up."

"Water?"

Xue Yang could get up, obviously. The crunchy feeling in his back wouldn't stop him and neither would the jumping twitch in his thigh muscle. But if Xiao Xingchen was offering, well, he was comfortable and doing his job of keeping Song Lan warm.

Xiao Xingchen cradled his head gently, avoiding the wound, and held the cup to his lips, which was entirely unnecessary. Xue Yang drank it, and settled his cheek back against Song Lan's chest. "His heartbeat is better," he reported.

"Good. How are you feeling?" His cool hand rested on Xue Yang's forehead for a minute.

"Fine. I didn't drink any seawater, this is just bruising."

"Mm hm. And your stomach?" His hand drifted down Xue Yang's side, squeezed his hip. Xue Yang flinched a little. "How much does it hurt? Has the swelling gotten bigger?"

Xue Yang wriggled a little, so he could feel around. His lower belly was tender, and felt hard under his fingers, but the swelling wasn't actually bigger, so he said, "No," and then when Xiao Xingchen eyed him sceptically, said, "It's still swollen but it's not bigger or smaller."

"Another elixir," Xiao Xingchen concluded, and Xue Yang sighed, but accepted it, and some more water, and got his hair petted for his troubles. "You're doing well."

"Don't patronise me," Xue Yang said, and Xiao Xingchen laughed softly.

"You're doing very well at enduring my fussing and going along with me so I don't worry," he said, and Xue Yang had to concede that point. "Go back to sleep. It's still hours until dawn."

"I could..."

"No, you said yourself Song Lan wouldn't like it if I slept while you were awake," Xiao Xingchen said with a touch of smugness. "If you're good, in the morning you can get up and help me make breakfast, all right?"

Xue Yang wanted to quibble with good, but he was still tired and he was mostly comfortable, and he thought some more sleep might fix whatever was happening in his gut, so he put his head back down, and Xiao Xingchen stroked his hair and kissed his temple, his lips cool.

"Don't let Song Lan strangle me," he said, and Xiao Xingchen laughed, soft, and said, "I promise."

When he next woke up, it was to a rumble under his ear, and he moved his head and grumbled until a big hand settled on the back of his head to hold him still.

"Fuck," Xue Yang said, realising that Song Lan was awake. "Let go of me, I need to piss." Threats of pissing himself were a comedown from his usual, but he was fairly sure they'd work on Song Lan. Sure enough, he made a disgusted noise and let go.

Xiao Xingchen helped him up, and Xue Yang hitched up Xiao Xingchen's robe and stumbled out to the latrine, and then to the stream to wash up. The swelling was still there; he probed at it with is fingers, and grunted. Not great. That was the sort of injury he'd prefer to go to ground with, not nurse in close quarters with someone who wanted him dead and someone who was willing to let it happen.

It occurred to him then that he didn't have Jiangzai to hand, he was injured, and there could be anything hanging around waiting for its chance to eat him. He groaned, and made his way back to the cave, slow and careful, so he couldn't be accused of limping.

Song Lan was sitting up, and Xiao Xingchen was looking him over, apparently unwilling to touch. Xue Yang took his own robe down from where it was hanging, still smelling of the sea and a little of smoke, and took it out with him. More water, and he gathered some more mushrooms.

His legs felt uncomfortably wobbly when he got back, and he flopped down next to the fire and watched Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen interact. Xiao Xingchen was barely touching him, and Xue Yang, in theory, was pleased about that. But it got kind of stupid when Xiao Xingchen was trying to wipe some of the sweat and grime off him without actually touching him.

"What are you even doing?" Xue Yang said, and rolled up to his feet without a wince, though he had to bite his tongue. "Give me that."

"Yang'er, don't - " Xiao Xingchen said, and then fell silent as Xue Yang briskly wiped down the broad expanse of Song Lan's back. Song Lan didn't flinch, and he let out a sigh of relief when Xue Yang scrubbed away the patches of dried blood. They were probably itchy.

"How's he going to piss?" Xue Yang said. "Won't moving him around fuck up his leg?"

"We'll have to use a bowl as a chamber pot," Xiao Xingchen said. "I'm sorry, Zichen. Xue Yang, don't - "

"It's fine," Song Lan said as Xue Yang nudged him to shift his weight so Xue Yang could clean between his legs. "Xue Yang once opened me up and poked around to see if he could make me able to eat. This is nothing."

"He did what?" Xiao Xingchen said, and Xue Yang scowled.

"I was trying to fix him," he said. "To be more human. It's not like he could really feel pain."

Xiao Xingchen looked at Song Lan, who shrugged. "Not exactly," he said, finally. "I wouldn't put it like that, but no, the... surgery didn't hurt."

"Not that I would have cared," Xue Yang felt obliged to point out, "But." He tossed the cloth back in the pot, and pulled the blanket back into place; Xiao Xingchen stopped politely averting his eyes and helped Song Lan lie flat again.

"I'll make breakfast," he said, and went forward to the fire. Xue Yang started to get up, and Song Lan's fingers curled in his sleeve - well, Xiao Xingchen's sleeve, really. Xue Yang's own robe was stuffed into his belt, the qiankun sleeve within reach, although he couldn't really do anything to Song Lan right now without risking fucking up his leg worse, which would leave Xiao Xingchen righteously pissed off.

"Apparently I should be grateful to you." Song Lan said, which sounded like a trap.

"No?" Xue Yang said. "You weren't grateful when I brought you back from the dead, why start now?"

"You were the reason I was dead in the first place."

"Well, I'm also the reason you were on a rock next to a giant... fish-lizard, or whatever," Xue Yang said. "Anyway, I didn't bring you back from the dead so you could die again and fuck everything up."

Song Lan sighed. Then he said, "Thank you for not letting me get drowned and eaten by a fish monster."

"Okay," Xue Yang said, and then, "Be more careful."

Xiao Xingchen hadn't fixed up Song Lan's hair, either, and he didn't like being messy any more than Xue Yang did, so he found his comb and began to tidy out the tangles. Song Lan watched him through half-closed eyes, and Xue Yang focused on his hands in Song Lan's hair, which was dry and salty. You could get oil from fish, but he wasn't sure if dry hair or fish-smelling hair would be worse.

"Hey, Song-daozhang," he said, and Song Lan raised an eyebrow. "Would Mencius divorce you for having your dick out like this?"

Song Lan sighed again, and closed his eyes. His mouth was almost smiling. Xue Yang poked him in the temple to make him turn his head so he could get at more hair. Xiao Xingchen brought a bowl over, and settled back on the other sleeping platform; Song Lan said, "Help me sit up," and Xiao Xingchen said, "No," very sweetly, and picked up a morsel of rice in his chopsticks. Song Lan let out an exasperated sigh.

Well, it was nice that Xue Yang wasn't the only one getting smothered by concern. Xue Yang braided Song Lan's hair into a neat tail, so it wouldn't get too fucked up, and tied it off with a length of the bark cord.

"Thank you," Song Lan said, which made two thank yous in the last few minutes and also in their entire... acquaintanceship, or whatever you wanted to call it. Xue Yang went and got his own rice instead of dealing with that; what did you say when people thanked you? With Xiao Xingchen, of course, he'd tease him, but he was fairly sure Song Lan wouldn't welcome that.

He wasn't very hungry, and ended up tipping his bowl back into the pot for Xiao Xingchen to finish. He thought about dressing properly, and maybe going and finding some more fish; it would be better than plain rice with Song Lan sick. But his stomach was growling uneasily and walking was going to tire him out.

"Fill the kettle, would you?" Xiao Xingchen said. "I want both of you to drink tisanes against infection."

Xue Yang filled the kettle without objection. Whatever was going on with his insides, a tisane probably wouldn't hurt. He obediently lifted up Song Lan's head as instructed so Xiao Xingchen could hold the cup to his lips.

"How do you feel," Xiao Xingchen said, pressing the back of his hand to Song Lan's brow.

"Fine," Song Lan said, clearly lying; his whole face was tense with strain, clammy with the effort of just having breakfast. Xue Yang laid him down as gently as he could, but his eyes still tightened in discomfort.

"All right," Xiao Xingchen said. "Xue Yang, lie down, please."

"No," Xue Yang said, startled. "What the fuck, daozhang."

"I'm going to go out for food," Xiao Xingchen said, "And I don't trust either of you not to hurt yourselves worse. So you're going to keep an eye on each other for me."

"No, we're not," Xue Yang said. "I'm going out too."

"I'd really prefer you didn't," Xiao Xingchen said, and he had the nerve to reach out and link his fingers with Xue Yang's, his gaze soft and imploring. "I don't want to leave Song Lan alone in case he takes a turn for the worse."

"I am right here," Song Lan said, and Xiao Xingchen turned his soft gaze down on Song Lan.

"Xue Yang has an internal injury," he said, "And he won't stop running around and lifting things. I need you to keep an eye on him."

"I am also right here," Xue Yang said, and got the eyes again. "Daozhang, I'm fine."

"No, you're not," Song Lan said, despite the clear benefits of maintaining a united front. "Lie down." And then, to Xiao Xingchen, "I won't let him kill himself."

"Thank you, Zichen," Xiao Xingchen said sweetly, and tugged on Xue Yang's hand until he gave it up as a bad job and lay gingerly down next to Song Lan, who put an arm around his shoulders. He did feel cold, actually, or maybe Xue Yang was overheated. Whatever.

Xiao Xingchen fitted more heated rocks around them - and okay, it was nice to be actively warm again, instead of just getting by. He leaned over to kiss Xue Yang on the temple, not brief, a lingering press of soft lips. Then said, "I'll be back soon, Zichen," in a tender voice. Song Lan's grip tightened around Xue Yang, probably not on purpose, and he said, "Be safe, Xiao Xingchen."

Xue Yang waited until he was safely gone before trying to disentangle himself, just testing. He wasn't very surprised when Song Lan's grip tightened.

"Stop squirming, you'll make my bruising worse," Song Lan said, sounding smug about it.

"You're so fucking annoying," Xue Yang said, and rubbed his face on Song Lan's shoulder. "I can't believe you almost got killed by a fish. That wouldn't have happened to a fierce corpse, you know, they don't need to breathe and they don't get knocked out like chumps."

"What's wrong with you?" Song Lan said.

"Lots of things, probably."

"Your internal injury."

"Just something's swollen. It'll heal. If I go to sleep, will you kill me?"

"Maybe." Xue Yang lifted his head to check on that; Song Lan watched him through one slitted eye. "Go to sleep, Xue Yang." He slid his palm up Xue Yang's spine and squeezed the back of his neck. Xue Yang gave an uneasy twitch; no one had ever touched him there but Xiao Xingchen. No one had held him but Xiao Xingchen.

But Song Lan was -

Song Lan wouldn't want Xiao Xingchen to think badly of him, which he surely would if he murdered Xue Yang right after Xue Yang saved his life. Almost certainly. He closed his eyes, and let sleep envelop him once more.

This time he woke feeling sick as hell; he gave an urgent wriggle, and when Song Lan muttered something disapproving said, "Gonna puke," which got him his freedom. He made it several steps outside before throwing up his breakfast, and glared at the sad little puddle. Waste of food. He kicked some dirt over it, and winced.

His gut was cramping hideously, and his legs were weak. He retreated back to the fire, which was burning low, and stoked it a little higher before filling the kettle.

"What are you doing," Song Lan said, and he shifted like he was going to get up. Idiot.

"Making some tea. My mouth is gross. Don't get up." The sun was still high, so there was no call to worry about Xiao Xingchen yet. He was perfectly capable, Xue Yang told himself, and said out loud, "Do you want some?"

"Please."

He stood up and checked the talismans, making his slow way around their porch to inspect each one. He should have done it earlier. They all looked fine.

"You're limping," Song Lan observed.

"I got smacked into a rock, hurt my thigh. It'll be fine." An awkward stoop to fill the cups, and he took them back and sat down on the platform by Song Lan's head. Song Lan stared at him judgmentally, and he shrugged back. "What do you want me to do about it? Drink more tisanes?"

"Let me see," Song Lan said, glancing at his stomach. Apparently he wasn't doing a great job of hiding the injury. Sucked.

"Yeah, no. You can't do shit about it except worry, and neither can Xiao Xingchen. It's going to be fucked up until it heals, and he's not going to let me get an infection, which is all he can do. Okay?"

Song Lan didn't look convinced, but he let Xue Yang prop his head on his thigh and hold the teacup to his lips. Xue Yang smoothed his hair, and wondered how long it took to heal a broken leg. Song Lan was no good to anyone like this.

But Xiao Xingchen didn't seem to mind. He liked weighing himself down with useless burdens, so he probably wouldn't care if Song Lan had to lie there for months. He'd still feel the same way, and as Xiao Xingchen's feelings about Song Lan were exactly what Song Lan was here for, it didn't really matter.

A-Qing hadn't been much use, either, and - well, he hadn't minded her for those years.

"Hey," he said, and dug into his sleeve. Song Lan half turned his head. "Open your mouth."

Song Lan held out his hand instead, which was probably fair. Xue Yang dropped a candy into his palm, and Song Lan snorted.

"You've been hoarding these, have you?"

"I finished my candy ages ago," Xue Yang said, a little sourly. Song Lan popped the candy in his mouth, and made a satisfied little noise. "This is -" He folded up the scrap of coloured rice paper. "It's some fancy stuff I got in Jinlintai," he said finally. "The chief cultivator serves it to his particularly important guests, served on little silver plates. I was... saving it."

"Were you one of his important guests?" Song Lan said. He lifted the edge of the blanket, and there wasn't a compelling reason to stay sitting up, so Xue Yang shifted Song Lan's head down again, and tucked himself in. Lying on his side eased the internal pressure, and his breathing came deeper, easier. Song Lan hand rested on the back of his neck again, cool. Maybe soothing. He blinked, and tried to focus on the question.

"Yeah," he said, finally. "Not like the sect leaders, obviously, but there was no one else who could do what I did. Course, there was no one else who could give me what he could, so. Yeah. We both knew where we stood, and he was..." Xue Yang considered it. "It wasn't a big deal for him to treat me like I was important. Didn't cost more than just one of his fancy embroidered satin boots to make sure I was spoiled rotten the whole time I was there. Lavish rooms, hot baths, the best food." Xue Yang had never lived like that; even as a guest at Nightless City, he'd been in comfort, not luxury. He could see how the great sects got to believing the whole world was theirs, living in silk cocoons like that from the day they screamed their way out of the right cunt. "I fucked over Wen Ruohan, but I played nice for Jin Guangyao, because he bribed me instead of threatening. And hell, he paid enough attention to know what to bribe me with."

"Candy?" Song Lan said, sounding amused. Xue Yang took hold of the end of his braid, and brushed his thumb over the neat strands, all bundled together. On his third day in Jinlintai, when both he and Jin Guangyao were still playing their cards close, the food brought to him had changed; there were more sweet dumplings than savoury, there were three different plates of dessert, there was a bowl of candied ginger to snack on. From then on Jin Guangyao never offered him tea without also offering him cakes or candies, always as polite as if Xue Yang were truly a guest disciple, smiling as if they were friends.

It wasn't the same, it wasn't real, but sweets were sweets.

"I suppose lots of people gave you candy," he said, and felt Song Lan's chest hitch in a huff of almost-laughter.

"Well, you."

"No, just because... not because they wanted something. Just because."

"Still you," Song Lan said, like he was trying to not get it. Xue Yang wondered how much it would hurt Song Lan to kick him. But then he said, "And my parents. My shifu. The cook. Older students, sometimes. We were a temple, so we weren't supposed to indulge too much in worldly pleasures, but my shifu always said a little wouldn't hurt. How could we learn moderation otherwise, he used to say. At New Year the younger disciples used to be sent around to give sweets in red and gold rice paper to all the children in the village. Candied lotus seeds, or red-dyed melon seeds. Then he'd complain for the next week that all his students were sticky, and there were scraps of rice paper all over the place."

"Yeah," Xue Yang said. There was a simmering acidic feeling in his chest; if he puked again it would be right on Song Lan. "Well, Jin Guangyao gave me real sweets and fake smiles, and I did a lot of murders and demonic cultivation for him. Cheap at the price, but no one ever thought of it, I guess."

Probably, he shouldn't mention all the murders, even if Song Lan was off killing him right now, but he felt disjointed and weird, and talking felt good. Song Lan just gave a gentle squeeze to the back of his neck.

"Jin Guangyao understood me," he said. "And you know what, I think he actually did like me. He's the only person who's ever done both, I think." He let out a contented noise at the rub of Song Lan's thumb along the length of his neck.

"Do a lot of people like you?" Song Lan said, sounding like it was funny.

"Sure. Usually til they find out I'm not joking." He grinned, teeth pressed against Song Lan's cool skin. "If they're not too rude about it, they survive it."

"Is that what happened to Xiao Xingchen?" Song Lan said, and his voice was level, but Xue Yang tensed, and grunted as the tension reverberated through his belly.

"Shut the fuck up, you're supposed to be sleeping," he said, and shoved his face into Song Lan's armpit, which was close and dark and didn't smell too awful for a sick person.

You could say that about Song Lan in general, really; not as awful as expected.

Chapter Text

Xue Yang was passed out again when he got back, and he didn't wake when Xiao Xingchen gingerly peeled down the blanket to peer at his belly. It didn't look good at all.

"He vomited," Song Lan said, "And he was limping when he came back. Said it was his thigh." He had his hand cupped round the back of Xue Yang's head, as if touching him was the easiest thing in the world. Well, Xiao Xingchen should be glad that Song Lan had someone he was comfortable touching. He put the blanket back in place, careful not to touch Song Lan himself. "How serious is it?"

"Bad," was all Xiao Xingchen could say. If it were Song Lan, Xiao Xingchen would feel more confident of his ability to fight off infection and rot long enough to heal, but Xue Yang, for all his ability to push through injury, was not skilled at the art of healing himself or others. He had a high fever, and his pulse was shallow.

"He was sounding a little confused," Song Lan said, carefully, and Xiao Xingchen bit his lip. "Is there anything..."

"Not really," Xiao Xingchen said. "I can... transfer him some qi, if you - I know you're injured too - "

"I'm healing, though," Song Lan said, and Xiao Xingchen curled his fingers in his lap. Xue Yang might well die with all he could do; should he even work to save him? Perhaps it would be better if he just let Xue Yang sink into death.

But if Xue Yang had died in the last few weeks, he would have lost Song Lan to the sea. He would have come out of that cave later, and looked at the empty shore, and never known what had happened to him for sure. It had been bad enough when he'd run out after Xue Yang's signal and seen the thrashing water, and Xue Yang crawling out of it; the thought of just emptiness and not knowing, forever...

What if Xue Yang lived, and tired of their lives, and travelled home again and killed fifty people for some slight? What if he died, and Song Lan died of something Xue Yang could have prevented?

Of course, Song Lan's life wasn't more valuable than fifty people.

Of course it is, he heard Xue Yang say, as clearly as if it had come out of his mouth. Because Song Lan is mine.

A very selfish thought.

But they had agreed - more or less, he thought, without ever saying it - that they weren't going to kill Xue Yang, and surely, letting him die was just the same? And to connive at his death when he was beginning to trust them, was sleeping calmly with his face pressed into Song Lan's side -

"You think I should transfuse qi into him, instead of you," Xiao Xingchen said, because he needed Song Lan to say it, so he wouldn't think, later, that he had seen what he had wanted to see in Song Lan's calm reticence.

"Yes, of course," Song Lan said. "I'll be fine."

Xiao Xingchen silently laid his palms on Xue Yang's bare back, where the bruising was still putrid. It should have faded to paler shades by now; Xue Yang's body was turning all its attention inwards, to the mess inside him. Song Lan said, "It wasn't like he was close," and Xiao Xingchen glanced up at him. "He was on the beach, still, when that thing dragged me under. I would have said there was nothing he could do. I only caught a glimpse of it, but it was colossal."

"Yes," Xiao Xingchen said. "I saw it. It came out of the water, after the two of you. It was - " he hesitated, resisting the urge to describe it as monstrous, foul, demonic. It was just an animal; no demonic beast. "It was very big," he said, lamely. "I was - I wouldn't have left Xue Yang down there, but he told me he'd come after me. But I suppose his leg wasn't steady enough to fly. He -"

He bit his lip. He'd landed with Song Lan, laid him out on the rough undergrowth, forced the water out of his lungs and made sure he was breathing, and then he'd realised Xue Yang hadn't followed him, and a great surge of terror had overwhelmed him. He'd rushed to the edge of the cliff, expecting to see an empty shore once more, but instead Xue Yang had been there, wreathed in resentful energy. Laughing, as he drew up a ghastly disintegrating horror to destroy the animal that had wounded him and almost killed Song Lan.

Nothing justified the use of resentful energy, Xiao Xingchen reminded himself. And yet. And yet.

Xue Yang stirred under his hands, and said, "Daozhang?" in a blurred, uncertain voice. He spread his palm over Song Lan's chest, and made a confused little noise.

"I'm here," Xiao Xingchen said. "Sh, rest."

Xue Yang made a dubious noise, but seemed to sink back into sleep. Song Lan said, "I wondered," and then stopped. Xiao Xingchen looked at him, and said, "You can ask me anything, Zichen."

Song Lan pursed his lips, and then said, "You and Xue Yang... were lovers."

He didn't say it like a question, but of course, it must be obvious from Xiao Xingchen's behaviour. Perhaps from the start, when his attachment had been so much stronger than his reason. Xiao Xingchen felt as hot as Xue Yang's fever; he said, "I don't... perhaps," and Song Lan's eyebrows rose a little. "I suppose..."

There was an awkward silence. Xiao Xingchen sighed. "We did... share a bed," he conceded. "He kissed me quite often, would touch me, but we never - I don't know. It seemed like a flirtation at the time, and I assumed that eventually - I was in no hurry." He dropped his gaze. "And now I wonder if that, too, was just some means of manipulating me." He paused, and said, "You must be - "

"No," Song Lan said, and Xiao Xingchen looked up at him. "I already knew you loved him, and didn't think less of you. I wouldn't think less of you for that, either."

"I don't know how you couldn't," Xiao Xingchen said. "I thought I loved him. I didn't even know him."

"You and I didn't know each other as deeply as we thought," Song Lan said. "But I loved you then and I still do."

"I don't deserve that," Xiao Xingchen said, and Song Lan smiled at him.

"Even if that were true, you have no high ground there," he said, and brushed his hand over Xue Yang's tumbled hair. Xiao Xingchen laughed, surprised. "Can we ever deserve love? Maybe we should just be grateful for it."

"I am," Xiao Xingchen said. His throat felt uncomfortably tight. "I - love you too, you know. I never stopped, even when - I love you both."

Song Lan shifted his hand, and laid it gently over Xiao Xingchen's for a moment. "I'm glad."

Xiao Xingchen breathed hard through his nose rather than cry, and Song Lan moved his hand back to Xue Yang's hair.

"If you're comfortable staying awake for a while, I'm going to get some sleep," Xiao Xingchen said finally. "I want to sit up for the night, just in case..." he wasn't entirely sure what he was worried about. It had been a long time since they saw the aggressive animals, and despite Xue Yang's caveats, Xingchen was confident in his talisman wards. But he still didn't want to let the night pass unobserved, not with Song Lan and Xue Yang so wounded.

"Of course," Song Lan said. "Sleep."

Xue Yang slept like the dead throughout the night, so deep that Xiao Xingchen rose to check on him several times. When he had shared Xiao Xingchen's bed, he had been restless, clingy; now he just slept, limp, his arm loose over Song Lan's chest. His pulse was weak.

Perhaps it was some ironic justice, if Xue Yang died of saving Song Lan's life. The sort of consequences Xue Yang scornfully dismissed. No doubt if he were awake, he would point out that Xiao Xingchen struggling to save his life was hardly poetic justice.

Xiao Xingchen would not have said it out loud, but it occurred to him now that it might be poetic justice for Xiao Xingchen, to see Xue Yang die under his hands.

Xue Yang's skin was dry and felt tight. He had to stir him awake and feed him water, which he scowled at.

"Drink, Yang'er," Xiao Xingchen coaxed, and Xue Yang went still.

"You know," he said, and it was a moment before Xiao Xingchen realised what he meant. Xue Yang's eyes were glassy and the cave was dim with firelight; he probably couldn't see Xiao Xingchen's intact, unbandaged face.

"I know," Xiao Xingchen said softly, and rubbed his thumb against Xue Yang's scalp where he was supporting it. "Drink."

"You're not angry," Xue Yang said, after a few more mouthfuls.

"I'm not happy about it," Xiao Xingchen said. He wanted to ask how could you and did it ever mean anything but he doubted delirium would bring him any more truth than he already had. Xue Yang simply did not think like most people, and he could do things that others could not.

"Oh," Xue Yang said, frowning, and then, "But you know." His hand scuffled out of the top of the blankets, apparently unaware there was an entire human body sleeping peacefully there, and reached for Xiao Xingchen's hand, pulled it to his mouth and gave it a scalding hot kiss.

He shuddered, with fever or some unknown emotion, and then he stretched open his hand and stared at it. His left hand, intact and strong. "Oh," he said, his voice dropping. "All right." He heaved a great sigh, and shrank into himself, pulling Xiao Xingchen's hand under his chin, cup and all. And then quietly, "I miss you, daozhang. Come back to me, won't you?"

"I'm here," Xiao Xingchen said. "Will you drink a little more water for me?"

Xue Yang shook his head, eyes shut tight. Xiao Xingchen laid his head back down, and stroked his hair until he drifted over the boundary to unconsciousness once more, and he could reclaim his hand.

He woke them both in the morning for more of the tisane to resist infection, though he wasn't sure if it was helping Xue Yang. He was flushed red and spoke confusedly, though he recognised them and seemed to know where they were. Xiao Xingchen had no idea what he could do if Xue Yang turned confused and violent. Song Lan was in no state to defend himself, though at least he showed no signs of fever or infection. He volunteered to hold Xue Yang in place while Xiao Xingchen wiped him down with cold water to bring down his fever.

Xue Yang complained bitterly, of course, but it helped a little, and his gaze became clearer. He drank water when Xiao Xingchen held it to his mouth, and turned his slightly unfocused gaze on Song Lan and said, "Forward, Song-daozhang, very forward, what would Mencius say?"

"I'm sure he'd let you divorce me," Song Lan said, and Xiao Xingchen opened his mouth and then closed it again as Xue Yang giggled. He was almost sure Song Lan wasn't delirious. "How are you feeling?"

Xue Yang's face creased up into an intense scowl, attention directed inward for a long moment. Then he assumed a look of deep cunning, and he said, "I need to piss, Xiao Xingchen, will you help me?"

"Go in the bowl," Xiao Xingchen said, and Xue Yang considered that, and then shook his head. He pushed at Song Lan's hands, and after an exchanged glance Song Lan let him go.

Xue Yang forced himself upright, sitting and then standing with slow deliberation. His face turned parchment white, and Xiao Xingchen caught his arm to steady him. Xue Yang would force himself to motion til he dropped dead in his tracks, most likely.

Xiao Xingchen would have carried him, but he thought that picking him up might jolt him worse than the slow, deliberate steps he took. Xiao Xingchen looked back at Song Lan to see him easing himself up onto his elbows, and snapped, "Don't you start! At least wait until Xue Yang is done!" and Song Lan meekly lay down again, thought he looked after them with clear worry. Xue Yang laughed, though it was breathy and uncertain.

After he'd relieved himself - at least there wasn't blood in it - Xue Yang refused to be turned around, and took a few more steps towards the stream, ignoring Xiao Xingchen's insistence he'd bring Xue Yang all the water he needed. He used Xiao Xingchen's arm to lower himself to his knees beside the water, and then he said, "I'm just going to. Look at it," and cast a strange glance at Xiao Xingchen as he fumbled at the belt to his robe.

That was just fine by Xiao Xingchen. He helped Xue Yang shrug out of the white robe, and tried to tug it free; but Xue Yang clutched at it - no, at his own robe that had still been tied to it. Even now, he wouldn't let go of his weapons. Xiao Xingchen stroked his hair, and said, "It's all right, little friend, Yang'er, you're safe," and crouched to inspect his belly.

The swelling hadn't grown, but it looked much worse. The skin was almost black, and trailing away from it were blackened veins, as if he were becoming one of his own fierce corpses.

"I feel a little better," Xue Yang, and Xiao Xingchen gave him an incredulous look. Xue Yang, incredibly, smiled at him, bright although his skin was shining red, sweat-damp hair clinging to it. "Fresh air. Leave me here for a bit. It's nice and cool." He leaned sideways, wincing, and splashed a handful of water onto himself. "Go help Song Lan and then come back for me."

"You'll - " Xiao Xingchen stopped, unsure of what he was worried about. Xue Yang rolled his eyes.

"I promise not to run off. I'll yell if anything tries to eat me. Go on."

Xue Yang was clearly not about to cooperate, and Xiao Xingchen didn't want to risk making it worse. Whatever was happening inside him wasn't good. Perhaps the fresh air would help. He trudged back to the cave, nerves prickling, and Song Lan said, "What happened? Is he all right?" and made like he was going to get up. Xiao Xingchen pressed him back down, and said, "Sh. He just needs a little time outside. I'll go get him as soon as..."

Helping Song Lan use the bowl was awkward, trying to touch Song Lan as little as possible, but Song Lan didn't flinch away from him, at least, and when he was clean and tucked back in, Xingchen hurried back out to fetch Xue Yang.

He was ten paces away when he smelled the foetid reek, and covered the ground in one leap; Xue Yang was curled forward, panting, and there was a vile mix of blood and pus smeared down his belly and thighs, stinking of decay.

"What did you do?" Xiao Xingchen hissed, and Xue Yang gave him a sideways look, and raised one hand, holding once of his wickedly sharp little surgical knives.

"Had to open it up," Xue Yang said, barely audible. "Help me... empty it." His other hand fumbled at the wound, as wide as Xue Yang's palm. Xiao Xingchen thought he could see the slick gleam of viscera within.

It was too late to do anything about it now. Xiao Xingchen pushed his hands away, and inspected the wound; deep, opening up the abdominal cavity, but he didn't seem to have nicked anything. All the blood inside was dark and old. Xue Yang, even in this state, had a precise hand for cutting flesh. Xiao Xingchen scooped up water from the river to clean it out, trying to ignore the way things shifted under his hands, the guts twitching like a coiled snake.

"Lie back," he said when everything seemed clean, and there was just the thin slick of blood from the edges of the wound. "It needs - do you have needles?"

"Mm." Xue Yang tapped the roll of leather at his hip, and Xiao Xingchen picked it up to find an array of wicked-looking tools and a range of needles, and several different types of thread.

It was a bad idea to do this out in the open; anything could smell the blood. Xiao Xingchen scooped him up, carefully, and Xue Yang said, "It's fine, it feels less fucked up now, I'm going to be fine," in a groggy voice.

"What's wrong, is he all right?" Song Lan said when he came in, though thankfully he didn't try and get up. Xiao Xingchen laid Xue Yang out on the other platform, and Song Lan said, "What happened, did he get attacked?"

"Abscess," Xue Yang said.

"He decided to open it with a knife," Xiao Xingchen said grimly, and Song Lan swore. "Exactly that, yes."

"Yeah, well," Xue Yang said, and he smiled, bright and sharp. "If you don't want to stitch it, I can manage."

"You can stay still," Xiao Xingchen snapped. "What if you'd nicked an artery? You could have bled out before I got back!"

"Didn't think you'd let me," Xue Yang said. He rolled his head sideways, and his smile turned sour. "Would've wanted to wait."

Xiao Xingchen pursed his lips and didn't answer; surgery like this was risky, and he hadn't even been sure it was an abscess. It could equally have been an rupture of the gut, or a blockage. Resorting to the knife so soon - no, Xiao Xingchen would have argued strongly against it.

"You've done this before?" Xue Yang said, as he threaded the needle.

"Yes," he said, curt. Not often, but he'd performed a few medical treatments, in distant villages that didn't even have a midwife or wise woman. He put small stitches in, careful to catch muscle as well as skin so it wouldn't just tear as soon as it was under strain. No doubt Xue Yang would strain it at the first opportunity.

Xue Yang didn't even tense up, just lay lax and trusting as Xiao Xingchen drove the needle through. He said, "I feel so much better already," in a slightly dreamy tone.

"Probably blood loss," Song Lan said. He was still lying flat, but he'd turned his head to watch, a frown between his brows. "I can't believe you just gutted yourself out there. What if something had smelled you?"

"Eh," Xue Yang flapped a dismissive hand. Xiao Xingchen tied off the last stitch, and went for warm water to wash him properly clean. Xue Yang said, "Thanks, daozhang, wasn't looking forward to stitching that up."

"I wouldn't," Xiao Xingchen said, and then let out a hiss of irritation. "You should have told me," he said, and looked at Song Lan. "He's clean, will you - "

"It's fine," Song Lan said, lifting his arm to make room, and Xiao Xingchen wrapped Xue Yang up in the black robe that was dry and clean now, and transferred him to Song Lan's side, with the blankets wrapped close around him. Xue Yang shifted very slowly onto the side that wasn't wounded, tucked his nose into the hollow between Song Lan's chest and shoulder, and let out a little sigh. Song Lan's arm curled around him.

"I'll be okay now," he promised, words slurring, and Xiao Xingchen made an exasperated noise. Before he could think of anything to say, Xue Yang fell into unconsciousness, limp and still. Xiao Xingchen hastily put a hand to his neck, heart in his throat, and felt his pulse and breathing and qi, all weak but steady.

"Will he?" Song Lan said, and Xiao Xingchen shrugged.

"Well, it's better all that - " he wrinkled his nose. "It was an abscess that was poisoning him," he said. "But now he's got a open gut wound, and he's already very weak. I don't know, Zichen. I wish we had a doctor. I wish none of this had happened at all."

"We've always lead dangerous lives," Song Lan said, reasonably, and Xiao Xingchen shook his head.

"Not like this. Not where you can just be walking along a beach one moment, and the next dead. You had no idea you were even in danger! And then - you almost died. Again." He stroked Xue Yang's hair, because he wanted to stroke Song Lan's, and it was almost close enough. "This isn't like our world. Who knows what else is lurking out there, ready to eat us in one bite? What if that giant hunter lizard we saw comes into the mountains in winter searching for more food? What if the lizard-birds turn aggressive and tear us apart?"

"Xiao Xingchen," Song Lan said, gently. "It's going to be all right. We've endured worse."

"We didn't endure it well," Xiao Xingchen said, and then he sighed. "You're right, of course, I'm just -"

"You're worried," Song Lan said. "I'm surprised you're not used to it, honestly. Wasn't Xue Yang like this in Yi City?"

"He never got hurt like this," Xiao Xingchen said, and he pressed his face into his hands, and sighed again. He was being unreasonable. Xue Yang made him unreasonable.

By the next morning, Xue Yang's fever had subsided. He was pale, and could barely sit up and even consented to use the bowl to piss, but his skin wasn't nearly so hot and the discolouration around his wound was already fading.

"Told you," he said, and thumped back down onto the bed. "I'll be up by... tomorrow."

"You'll rest until you're well enough," Song Lan said, wrapping a secure arm around him once more. "Sit up and eat something, if you're so well."

Xue Yang made a rude noise at him, and said, "In a bit. Just letting Xiao Xingchen check you over."

Song Lan's leg seemed to be healing well enough, though it was a slow process even for a cultivator. The bruising had healed to shadows, and he could wiggle his toes; now it was just a case of letting the bone and muscle knit properly. Both he and Xue Yang ate, Xue Yang sticking with a small bowl. He was, apparently, still having weird internal feelings, and he made odd faces as his stomach worked on it.

"I suppose we might as well have these," he said, and dug some fancy candy out of his sleeve, and dropped one into Song Lan's mouth. "Daozhang, you want one? Nothing to save them for, now."

"What were you saving them for?" Xiao Xingchen said, accepting a candy. He didn't have much of a sweet tooth, but it was a nice change from rice and fish.

Xue Yang hesitated, and Xiao Xinghen said "What?" because there was something odd in the way Xue Yang refused to meet his eyes.

"It was for A-Qing," he said. "I figured when we'd... sorted things out between us, we could go find her, and... I got these for her. She never had the really nice stuff, just what we could get at the market. I thought she'd like these." He tucked the bag away again.

"She's still in Yi City," Xiao Xingchen said.

"Yeah. I did tell her we were leaving... I mean, I yelled it near her a few times. If I'd known - " he considered. "No, I couldn't have brought her. She could have ended up anywhere. I think we ended up roughly where we were in Yueyang, and she'd probably be hundreds of miles away, with no core, and she might be years younger, depending on... how that works." He paused, and then said, "I left her some food and some money. She might have moved on, now we're gone. She's smart."

It was nice to imagine that A-Qing had stepped out of the city, onto the road, and met someone who would be kind to her. But Xiao Xingchen had no faith in the kindness of strangers, any more.

"Rest," he said. "You still have a lot of healing to do."

Xue Yang settled down, and his eyes fell closed. Xiao Xingchen laid his hand over Xue Yang's spine, just below Song Lan's hand, to transfer some qi. It probably wasn't necessary, any more. He did it anyway.

He thought of A-Qing, stumbling round the city she had been so familiar with; learning it anew, blind, the way Xiao Xingchen had known it. She had always been exasperated by how kindly he treated his little friend, scornful of how affectionate to him his little friend was. If he had listened to her more -

He wasn't sure if it would have made the ultimate outcome any better. Perhaps he would just have a different set of regrets. Still; he wished he could tell her that he was sorry. That he was grateful to her.

"Xiao Xingchen?" Song Lan said, and Xiao Xingchen sighed, and felt Xue Yang's slow heartbeat, the quiet pulse of his energy; deeply asleep.

"I'm doubting my decision," he said, very softly, and forced himself to meet Song Lan's gaze. It was soft, which hurt almost as much as a glare would have; Song Lan had forgiven him so much.

"Our decision," Song Lan corrected him, and Xiao Xingchen grimaced.

"It seems wrong to... blame you, when -"

"If they're our decisions we share responsibility," Song Lan said, and then gently, "Don't close me out again, please."

"No, no, I - " Xiao Xingchen sighed, and then said, "All right, I doubt our decision, and now I feel I should apologise for doubting you." He paused, considered, and then said, "But I don't think your decision would be made for selfish reasons, so now I'm feeling better about it. Oh dear."

Song Lan smiled, and said, "Why are you doubting it?"

"If it were just us, well, we chose this - but I still don't like the thought of easy is it is for any of us to die - and for that matter, if I die here, who's to say Xue Yang won't... do whatever he would have done?" Song Lan nodded. Xiao Xingchen didn't think Xue Yang would choose to hurt Song Lan, not now, but - well, if Xue Yang reverted to his old ways in Xiao Xingchen's absence then Song Lan might try and stop him, and then - "And then there's A-Qing. Her suffering could last indefinitely - people are so cruel to... people who are blind, and poor. And we could stop that - undo it entirely - and save so many people, and - " he took a deep breath, and Song Lan nodded.

"This was true before," he said, and Xiao Xingchen sighed.

You should go back, he thought, but couldn't bring himself to say. If Song Lan went back, he could deal with Xue Yang before he killed all those people, could find A-Qing and take care of her. Xue Yang would be content here with Xiao Xingchen, and Xiao Xingchen -

Well, he could live without Song Lan. Xue Yang would be both a comfort and a prison to him, here, and neither of them would be able to hurt anyone but the other.

But he was still too weak to say it. He waited for Song Lan's thoughts, hoped they would make their way to that conclusion and spare Xiao Xingchen from having to propose it.

Instead he said, "I agreed with you it was an impossible risk, to let Xue Yang go back. Now… it seems a smaller risk. But it's still a risk."

Xiao Xingchen stared at him, and then felt his forehead, suspicious. He didn't seem feverish, and Song Lan looked at him with a wry twist to his mouth, and said, "I suppose the question is just how much of Xue Yang's behaviour is feigned and how much is real."

"I don't know. Reason tells me that Xue Yang doesn't feel... regret. That he isn't..." he lifted his hands, helplessly. Song Lan's hand was still resting in Xue Yang's hair.

"I don't know," Song Lan said, with a sigh. "He saved my life, but I don't have any conviction he values human life in general." He paused, and then said, "I don't want him dead. Not any more, not if he's not going to hurt any more people. It serves no good purpose and would wound you. If we were to choose between killing Xue Yang and returning, and staying here with him - I'm happy to stay." He looked away, frowned. "If it were just us to worry about... but I can't help but think about my temple. And A-Qing, and all the other people... But could we even stop Xue Yang from anything he chose to do? Would we even know? He's perfectly capable of smiling to our faces and killing behind our backs."

"He's a talented liar," Xiao Xingchen said, with a touch of bitterness. Placing trust in Xue Yang had ended so badly for him. How could he even consider it again? It was madness, and yet. And yet Song Lan was considering it, too.

"True," Song Lan said. "I don't think we can rely on him to abstain from murder out of any moral conviction, either. He's always going to be a risk. The question is whether we're confident we can keep him contained, and we can't do that by force. He's too clever and too determined. He'd have to choose it himself."

"Do you think," Xiao Xingchen said, and stopped. It was a foolish question; Song Lan was still holding Xue Yang close. Xiao Xingchen couldn't imagine - well, he wouldn't imagine it if he weren't seeing it. But he certainly couldn't imagine it if Song Lan didn't believe Xue Yang was acting sincerely.

"It's been years," Song Lan said. "If he was going to get bored of you I think he would have done it when you were a corpse. And it doesn't sound like Yi City was very entertaining. But he stayed."

"You think we can... control him."

"I wouldn't bet a single coin that we could control Xue Yang," he said. "But I think he might control himself, for you. It will take the rest of our lives, of course, but... either way, we're apparently spending the rest of our lives with him." He said, in a lower voice, "I'm not more detached than you. My home, the lives I ended, A-Qing - I'd gladly die to bring them back, but that's not an option."

"Is it selfish to want to help the people we care about?" Xiao Xingchen said, "Isn't that just what Xue Yang is doing?"

Song Lan shook his head, slow; not a denial. One day, perhaps, they'd look back on today with fresh regrets.

"We shouldn't rush into anything," Xiao Xingchen said, "But. If you think we should consider..."

"We'll consider it," Song Lan agreed, and left Xiao Xingchen with entirely new thoughts to worry about.

It was a beautiful morning, the wind as cold as mountain air on his cheeks, the ferns frosted like silver filigree. Xiao Xingchen gathered fungus, and brushed through the dirt in search of eggs; he found only cracked-open shells.

They'd have to rely on fish, perhaps hunt one of the smaller beasts. Xue Yang would do that, no doubt; just as Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan were beginning to admit the necessity, he would appear with a carcase. If he were in a good mood, he would say something like there's no waste, I'll dump what's left in the forest to fatten up the pack lizards so they don't come hunting for us. A bad mood, perhaps I hope your daoist principles aren't so strict you'll go hungry.

Either way, Song Lan would roll his eyes, and wrinkle his nose at the blood, fetching water to make sure everything was cleaned after the butchery.

Now he had spilled out his fears to Song Lan, the sweetness of a simple life here, with two of the three people he loved most, seemed very clear. Was it ever possible to be truly, uncomplicatedly happy, without some duty or regret tugging urgently at one's sleeve? Was it a betrayal of that duty to be happy at all, when those you had an obligation to those who suffered?

Because he was happy, this morning. Xue Yang was healing, and so was Song Lan, and they were all well.

If they'd known at Chang Manor, in Yi City, how it would end, was it possible they could have been spared all that pain? Surely not. Xiao Xingchen couldn't have forgiven the people he'd been fooled into murdering, and Song Lan could not have forgiven the slaughter of Baixue.

And yet Song Lan's temple was still dead, and Song Lan no longer wanted revenge. And if Song Lan had slain Xue Yang, Xiao Xingchen would still have loved Song Lan with all his broken heart. Was it a betrayal of the dead, to keep loving their killers? No doubt. But the heart was as stubborn as Xue Yang, it seemed, and clung as desperately.

He had so many regrets, so many impulsive, foolish choices made, but still he wanted, desperately, to imagine happiness for them all, the restoration of what was lost.

Song Lan, he assured himself, Song Lan wouldn't let him act blindly on the promptings of his heart, he wasn't weak to Xue Yang as Xiao Xingchen was. If he thought there was possibility there, it must be so.

*

Song Lan knew full well that Xue Yang had saved him for his own reasons, but it was still harder to mistrust him so much after he'd dived into the sea to drag Song Lan out.

He didn't actually remember it. One moment he'd been looking after Xiao Xingchen, the next in blinding pain, and then he'd waking up in their cave. Xue Yang seemed to regard the entire thing as an inconvenience, and Song Lan would swear he'd been confused at the suggestion Song Lan might be grateful.

Xue Yang had also gotten over his fear of sleeping around Song Lan, though he still kept his weapons close at hand.

"Theoretically," Song Lan said, as Xue Yang was helping him back from the latrine, "Could you take us all back right away?"

"Back where? You're not going anywhere for at least a week." The splint was finally off, the bone stable, but Song Lan's muscle was still healing. Xue Yang prodded him in the thigh, and Song Lan smacked the back of his head, hissing at the pain. "See?"

"No, I mean - back to our own time."

Xue Yang took a furtive look about, as if someone might be spying, and said, "Does Xiao Xingchen know you're asking me this?"

"No. I'm not asking you to do it, Xue Yang, I'm just asking about the... process."

Xue Yang settled him by the fire, his injured leg stretched out flat, and crouched to stare into his face. Xue Yang was behaving as if he were completely healed, but Song Lan was fairly sure he wasn't back at full strength. He'd submitted without much complaint to Xiao Xingchen's demands he babysit Song Lan, rather go chase around in the woods, so he must be feeling weak.

"Okay," Xue Yang said, "If you tell Xiao Xingchen I'm making secret plans to go back, I'll be mad, okay? Because I'm not. But obviously, I've thought about it."

"You said back when we got here you could do it in a few days," Song Lan said, as neutrally as he could, and Xue Yang pulled a face.

"In my defence I didn't realise how far we'd travelled," he said. "It's a complication. I'm confident I can do it, but... yeah, there are some difficulties. You know, when I started planning this, I wasn't going to bring you."

"You weren't?" Song Lan blinked at him. "Well, that's cold."

"It's a long way down the list of cold things I've done to you, Song-daozhang," Xue Yang said, which was obviously true, but Song Lan still didn't like the thought of being left behind. "If I had, you'd be there now to keep an eye on A-Qing," he said thoughtfully. "Maybe that would have been better? I like you here but I don't like..." he made a vague gesture. Song Lan looked at him, and he laughed. "You look like your feelings are hurt. We were going back to a Song Lan, remember? I figured you'd prefer it, not to remember any of the bad shit, like A-Qing. You wouldn't have lost your family or your eyes or been a bitch to Xiao Xingchen or anything. You wouldn't even know me. We wouldn't have to hate each other."

"You'd remember," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang shrugged.

"Yes, but if none of that had really happened I could let it go. I've let it go now and we both remember. But I figured you'd rather forget."

"You could always have asked me," Song Lan said. He wasn't sure which he'd have chosen, honestly. He'd been a dumb, self-righteous kid all those years ago; looking back at how naive he'd been made his heart ache with a peculiar tenderness. "If I don't remember making all those mistakes, won't I just make them again?"

"Well," Xue Yang said, "I mean yes, probably, but your mistakes are pretty trivial, it's just that I was committed to making them really awful for you. If you try not to make a personal enemy of the Yiling Patriarch, probably no one's going to die of you not being perfect." He looked at Song Lan, and said "Do you... want to go back?"

"I'm just trying to work through the philosophical consequences," Song Lan temporised. "I've been turning it over for a while."

"Oh. Because I might be able to send just you back, if that was what you wanted, but I'm not sure how well you'd be able to change things that way. At least, I suppose you'd just take my head off at Chang Manor, which - "

"No," Song Lan said.

"Okay," Xue Yang said. He smiled, wide and apparently sincere. "Anyway, it didn't occur to me to ask, I didn't actually care what you thought then."

"I'm not sure I'd want to lose my memories," Song Lan admitted, and Xue Yang looked interested.

"How come? Didn't you hate... literally everything after that?"

"None of it was fun, but - it's been a long time. I'm a different person than I used to be. I don't want to lose all that." He gave a wry smile. "Being able to remember the lessons you've learned while correcting the disasters they caused would be quite the privilege."

A-Qing, and the terrible courage she'd found in extremity. She could have left Yi City, but she stayed, out of loyalty to Xiao Xingchen's memory or just an unwillingness for anyone else to fall victim to Xue Yang if she could save them. It felt like murder, to undo the hero she'd become, but didn't she deserve a life that hadn't been blighted by the evil and poor judgement of others? They'd all failed A-Qing. He wondered what she would have chosen, if she could.

She wouldn't have forgiven Xue Yang, he was sure.

"Well, I did what I did," Xue Yang said. "Too late now. Or at least, too late unless I undo it all. Can I undo undoing A-Qing? I suppose I could try taking Xiao Xingchen forward, getting him to coax her out, and then take her back..."

"If you start trying to undo your previous time travel, things are going to get very confusing," Song Lan said.

"Yeah." He sank his chin onto his knees, and then perked up, "Anyway, I did end up bringing you, but it was because you were dead. Like I said before, I needed - thought I needed - all the resentful energy I could gather, so I absolutely stuffed you with it. You were leaking that stuff from every corner."

"And then you brought us here," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang sighed.

"Yeah. I should have slept. I just lost my focus. I'd never really thought about it, you know? What I'd change in my life. But then I did."

"And you thought before humans existed was the best place to go." He sounded sceptical to his own ears, but Xue Yang didn't seem to notice.

"Maybe I was right," Xue Yang said. "It's better here than anywhere but Yi City. If we had A-Qing it'd be a clear winner."

Song Lan shook his head. He knew the value of Xiao Xingchen's affection, and what it was like to live without it; but it still startled him that Xue Yang, of all people could value it appropriately, when every other belief he held was so utterly alien to Song Lan. He turned his focus back to simpler things, like the unravelling of time.

There was a chime from the perimeter talisman, and then another, and then an annoyed chirp. Xue Yang sighed, and reached over to haul the small lizard through. It shook itself, and then went to investigate the upturned turtle shell that had the breakfast scraps in it. Xue Yang settled back down, and Song Lan poked him to get his attention again.

"But you can't do the same thing again," Song Lan said, "Because I can't hold resentful energy."

"Right!" Xue Yang said, and pointed a finger at him. "And?" Song Lan stared, and Xue Yang nudged his outstretched foot, sending a jolt of pain through the injured leg. "Come on, you know this."

"There's less resentful energy here?" Song Lan guessed, after a moment's consideration, and Xue Yang nodded.

"I mean, Xiao Xingchen wouldn't let me murder a bunch of people anyway, but there's other methods, like graveyards and ghosts and so on. But here - well, there aren't really any ghosts. Fortunately, because I brought you, the YinTiger Tally wasn't completely drained. Now, Yin iron naturally absorbs resentful energy, but I guess there hasn't been resentful energy around for long, or not many of these lizards have it, because there's nothing like the stuff we have at home. So it's not working quite as well." He shrugged. "Now, we do have two very strong golden cores to work with that I didn't before, so there's that. And I might be able to work something out with bestial energy. Or I can go fishing." Song Lan raised his eyebrows, and Xue Yang said, "The thing that tried to eat you let off resentful energy. That thing was pissed. For all I know the ocean is actually seething with resentful energy because of them."

"Xiao Xingchen said it chased us," Song Lan said.

"Fucker," Xue Yang said, and then patted Song Lan's leg. "Don't worry. I tore it apart with a zombie fish, and I'll do the same again. But maybe I could -"

"No, it's too dangerous. You were badly hurt."

"It wasn't that bad," Xue Yang lied, smiling. "All right, put it at the bottom of the list of plans we're not going to use anyway. The bestial energy's more promising, if I can get it to work; we could start hunting for meat and gather the energy as well, maybe."

"What exactly is the risk of qi deviation here?" Song Lan said, and Xue Yang shrugged. "Really?

"I've never cultivated with bestial energy before but it's not like the Nie explode as soon as they try it," Xue Yang said. "And in case you hadn't noticed, I've cultivated with resentful energy for over twenty years and haven't gone insane or sick or tried to take over the world or been torn apart by my own wicked creations. Although I'm sure you would have if you could," he said, and grinned. Song Lan wrinkled his nose. "Come on, I know you thought about it."

"Of course I did," Song Lan said, and his voice came out very tired. "It's no more than you deserve, really." Xue Yang gave him a sharp, assessing look, and Song Lan shrugged. "You deserve it but no, I'm not going to."

Xue Yang cocked his head, like the concept was confusing, and then shrugged. "Okay, then. Anyway, I think the dangers of demonic cultivation are vastly exaggerated."

"Or you're just unusually attuned to resentful energy," Song Lan suggested, and Xue Yang eyed him. "Some people are more naturally attuned to qi, after all. When did you start using it? Twenty years, you said? You must have been young."

Xue Yang's expression cooled, his bright smile becoming smaller, more cynical. "Not really your business, Song-daozhang," he said.

"All right," Song Lan said. There was clearly a story there, but it wasn't like he needed to know it. "But I think you should be careful."

"Didn't hear you complaining when I used it to save your ass," Xue Yang said, smile returning, ignoring Song Lan's protest that he'd been unconscious. "You should have seen my monster, it was huge. Seaweed and crabs all over it." Song Lan made a face, and Xue Yang giggled at him. "Aw, don't worry, Song Lan. You'll always be my greatest creation. I put so much work into you, you know?" He closed his hand around Song Lan's ankle and squeezed it. He rested his thumb in the hollow of Song Lan's ankle, against his pulse.

"I know," Song Lan said, snappish, but he didn't kick free of the touch; his leg would pain him if he did. "I'm not your - creation."

"You kind of are, I suppose," Xue Yang said, tilting his head. "Everything you've done since the Baixue massacre is because of me, one way or another."

"That's not - " Song Lan shook his head. "I made my own choices, good or bad."

"That's a nice idea," Xue Yang said, and smiled. It was patronising, and Song Lan narrowed his eyes. "What? I said it was nice."

"You didn't mean it," Song Lan said. "Spit it out."

"We don't choose our fates. They're forced on us by others. You just had a period of getting lucky where you got to do what you wanted."

"Haven't you spent your entire life doing what you wanted to?" Song Lan said, and Xue Yang shrugged.

"Have I?" he said. "I suppose so. It didn't really... feel that way, at the time. It all felt like stuff I had to do."

Xiao Xingchen returned, with a healthy colour in his cheeks and a brisk swing to his step. He looked better, Song Lan thought, the shadow mostly gone from his eyes. He touched Xue Yang's hair, and Xue Yang tangled a hand in his robe and pulled him down to sit between the two of them, narrowly avoiding Song Lan's bad leg. He shifted closer to Xue Yang with an apologetic smile, and Song Lan said, "It's fine."

The lizard let out a happy chirp, and jumped into Xiao Xingchen's lap to be petted. Xue Yang rested his cheek against Xiao Xingchen's sleeve, made big eyes, and said, "When are you going to let me out of prison, Xiao Xingchen?"

"You're not in prison," Xiao Xingchen said, smiling at him, "You can leave any time."

"I can't while Song Lan's leg is fucked up," Xue Yang said sourly. "You know that. Let me do the foraging, you can nursemaid him."

"I don't need a nursemaid," Song Lan said, because he was still a cultivator and his leg was mostly healed. Xue Yang and Xiao Xingchen gave him matching sceptical looks, which was particularly annoying from Xue Yang, the hypocrite.

"I'm bored," Xue Yang said, and then, "Daozhang. Do you want me to figure out how to take us back? Or if you want, I'll give you my notes. You can burn them."

Well. It had probably been stupid to expect he could question Xue Yang about it and Xue Yang would just let it pass.

Xiao Xingchen's smile faded. He looked down at Xue Yang, and Xue Yang looked up at him from his dark-glass eyes, his mouth slightly tilted. "Obviously, they're my notes, I could reconstruct them eventually," he said. "I can't un-know it. But it would take me months to reassemble it all. So. If it would make you feel better."

Xue Yang shifted his weight, and dug a bundle of papers out from his sleeve. He laid them in Xiao Xingchen's lap, getting a hiss from the lizard, and Xiao Xingchen looked at Song Lan, who picked them up, and riffled through them.

"Those are my notes," Xue Yang said. "I can cut the relevant pages out of the Yiling Patriarch's notes too, if you want. You can keep them, or burn them, or whatever you want."

Song Lan could barely follow the first page; Xue Yang's notes were clearly not intended to be read by anyone but himself, and the concepts were... complicated. He turned to inspect the diagrams of the array; he vaguely recalled seeing Xue Yang set this up in a complicated web of thread and paper, Xiao Xingchen's body lying serene and perfect in the centre, Xue Yang standing at his head, Song Lan at his feet.

"It needs tweaking for three living people instead of... what we were," Xue Yang said, "And for the energy, that's going to be different, and I need to figure that out.

Song Lan folded the papers and handed them back to Xiao Xingchen, who said, "What do you think?"

"I think... it wouldn't hurt to have the option available," Song Lan said, slowly. "Just in case."

Xue Yang's gaze flicked between them, and Xiao Xingchen handed him the papers back. He said, "We don't have any immediate plans to go back, but..."

"Just in case," Xue Yang echoed, and his eyebrows arched. He wasn't stupid, and he knew a closed door had just been cracked open. "Okay, daozhang, I'll work on it. No hurry, but it'll be nice to have something to keep me busy."

"Figure out smelting iron," Song Lan advised, and Xue Yang laughed.

"I'm going to get some sleep," Xiao Xingchen said, and when he got up, Xue Yang silently followed him, throwing a glance at Song Lan he couldn't quite interpret. He listened to the rustle of their robes, the creak of the sleeping platform, and when he looked around, he wasn't surprised to see Xue Yang curled against Xiao Xingchen's side.

When he woke the next morning, he found Xiao Xingchen at the fire, feeding his pet lizard little scraps of meat.

"Xue Yang's gone out," he said, and smiled. "He said you were feeling neglected by me, which I imagine is a lie, but he is mostly healed, and a restless Xue Yang..." he frowned, clearly recalling that it wasn't so funny as all that.

"Not neglected," Song Lan said. He limped over, waving Xiao Xingchen down when he made to get up. "But I always like spending time with you."

Xiao Xingchen's smile returned. He said, "Xue Yang's presence didn't burden you too much."

Song Lan could hardly deny it, though he wasn't sure what to say about it. He couldn't say he'd forgiven Xue Yang; how could forgiveness even be possible for such crimes? But if he didn't seek to punish Xue Yang, no longer sought to hold him to account, how wasn't it forgiveness? He tried to express the tangle of his feelings, and Xiao Xingchen nodded.

"Xue Yang told me not longer after we came here he didn't know what forgiveness was," he said. "It seemed strange to me at the time, but I suppose I understand what he means, now. I can talk about it as a ideal, but I no longer know how it should feel. Perhaps it doesn't matter." Song Lan raised his eyebrows, and Xiao Xingchen smiled, wry. "I suppose the important question is not whether we have achieved some philosophical ideal of forgiveness, but whether we can live with him, day to day, for a very long time, even when we could turn and walk away from him. Whether we would be able to do so without resentment."

Clearly, there would be no walking away from Xue Yang. He had bound himself to Xiao Xingchen, and had set tentative claws into Song Lan, too. Given time, Song Lan thought that he, too, would be inextricably tangled in Xue Yang's possessiveness.

He looked at Xiao Xingchen's smooth profile, and said, "You don't want to walk away from him," and got a sigh of agreement. "And I will never walk away from you."

"And will you resent me for it?" Xiao Xingchen said. "Fifty years from now, will you want Xue Yang dead and regret missing your chance, and blame me for it?"

Song Lan took the time to think about it, rather than let loose the quick promises that rose to his lips. In fifty years, Xiao Xingchen would likely look much the same. Some of the bloom of youth gone from his features, replaced with… what? Gravity, he would have said once, Xiao Xingchen would grow into gravity, but now he wondered what fifty years of laughing at Xue Yang's jokes would do to him. The lines around his eyes would persist, and his dimples deepen.

Or perhaps there would be strain, from reining in Xue Yang's cruelty, from always being watchful of his behaviour. Regret, from binding his life to a violent madman.

And Xue Yang - would his irrepressible energy have slowed? Would he have learned diplomacy at some point on their journeys, or tact? His golden core wasn't strong, so perhaps there would be grey in his black hair, and he would certainly have laugh lines. He'd look like a man who'd spent his life smiling, which would be true, but extremely misleading to the unwary.

Or would it? Xue Yang had spent perhaps fifteen years committing atrocities. If he spent fifty years night hunting with them, destroying evil beings and laying the unquiet dead to rest, would that make him better? The dao taught that good deeds were not enough, that you should cultivate your nature to be a good person, but surely you could not do good for that long, love and be loved for all that time, and not change for the better.

Maybe that was just wishful thinking. Song Lan wanted so badly for it to be true, to believe that love and compassion and mercy could do what vengeance and bitterness had not. He wanted his temple back, busy and content.

"I don't know what will happen in fifty years," he said finally. "But I would like to travel there with you, and with Xue Yang."

The cold turned deep and bitter, still water icing over, thick frost and fine snow settling overnight. Though Song Lan's leg was mostly healed, it still ached harshly when he was too long away from the fire, and developed a limp after an hour or two.

Xue Yang must have felt it too, with how deep his wound had been. He didn't say anything about it, but he'd abandoned the practise of sleeping alone, and would curl up to either of them, shameless in the way he pressed close. Song Lan should, probably, have protested. There was no real need, the cold was merely uncomfortable. Easily endurable.

Instead he let it become habit. Either he or Xiao Xingchen would retire to bed, and Xue Yang would follow. If it were Xiao Xingchen, Song Lan would hear the sound of them kissing goodnight. If it were Song Lan, Xue Yang would tuck his head under Song Lan's chin and slide his hands under his outer robe.

After a few hours they would trade places, Xue Yang shifting just enough to snuggle up to a new bedmate, muttering complaints about the cold but still wrapping himself around the offending person. A few hours later, when it was absolutely frigid, they would all be packed into the one bed together, huddling under the blankets, hands tucked into armpits or pressed between thighs, faces pushed into shoulders, Xue Yang squashed between them so Song Lan would not touch where he was uncomfortable to be. And then in the hours before dawn Xue Yang would squirm out of bed, build the fire up again, and vanish into the icy darkness to do his foraging, plucking lizard-birds from their nests and breaking the ice to find sluggish fish.

While he was gone, Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen dozed opposite each other, barely touching for all the empty air grew cold between them. Sometimes Song Lan would dare to join his cold hands with Xiao Xingchen's, and breathe heat onto them. He thought about kissing Xiao Xingchen, the way Xue Yang did, easy and sweet, occasionally drawing a muffle giggle from him.

One day, he might. The thought of their lips meeting didn't leave him queasy and unsettled any more. Just unsettled.

He wasn't sure if Xiao Xingchen would let him, or how Xue Yang would feel about it if he did, but he was increasingly sure it was a necessary risk for him to take. One day, when Xiao Xingchen blinked awake, and saw Song Lan, and smiled slow and sweet, Song Lan would kiss him.

Xue Yang caught them one morning after breakfast, when Song Lan had nerved himself to tangle his fingers with Xiao Xingchen, and leaned close enough to stir his hair with every breath.

He was preparing himself to lean a little closer when he heard Xue Yang's footsteps hurrying, and they both turned to see him bounding up the slope. He grinned at them, one eyebrow flying up at the sight of them so close together.

"Busy?" he said in a tone rich with innuendo, and Xiao Xingchen flushed a delicate rose. "If you're not, come see something cool. Get your swords out." He winked, and Song Lan pretended he didn't catch that implication.

They followed Xue Yang out east to the scrubland, close to the lower slopes of the mountain, and found themselves faced with a bewildering sight. The huge two-legged lizards were spread out, stamping and bellowing, scraping their clawed feet against the earth.

"Are they going to fight?" Song Lan called, but Xue Yang was already landing, and Xiao Xingchen followed him before Song Lan could suggest that actually, maybe they should stay aloft.

Song Lan went after them, and to his relief the great lizards seemed uninterested in them. They continued to toss their huge heads back and cry out, slashing at the floor as if it were an enemy; like bulls pawing the ground. They were strange creatures, their backs covered with pale feathery hairs, their tails plumed like fuchen as they swung through the air.

"Some kind of preparation for war?" Song Lan said, uneasy.

"Can animals go to war?" Xiao Xingchen said. "I suppose if they're intelligent..."

"Intelligent animals get to war before fire and clothes," Xue Yang said, and laughed. "Sad. But no, I don't think it's that. Look over there."

There was another band of the lizards, watching the scraping with what seemed to be mild curiosity. Their tails swayed a little as they moved, but they didn't have the same plumes there.

"Oh!" Xiao Xingchen said. "They're displaying, like the birds!"

"Apparently scratching the ground is unbearably sexy," Xue Yang said. He lifted his robe a little, and drew his booted foot along the earth. "What do you think, daozhang? Better than the fan dance? I could yell if it would help."

"I don't think there's any need for that," Xiao Xingchen said, and he laughed easily and took Xue Yang's hand in his. Xue Yang laughed back at him, and then winked at Song Lan again when Xiao Xingchen's attention turned back to the lizards. They wandered, trying to count them; there were several dozen displaying, and slightly more watching.

"They must have come from quite a distance," Xiao Xingchen said. "I wouldn't have thought there would be enough food for them all here."

"Yeah, anything edible must be running a mile," Xue Yang agreed, and then, "Except us, obviously. Try not to look tasty, daozhang." He snapped his teeth near Xiao Xingchen's ear, and Xiao Xingchen laughed again, clear and lovely. "I suppose this means eggs, soon? We should try and figure out where their nests are. Bet the eggs are big."

"You've been bitten raiding a nest at least once," Song Lan said. "Don't risk annoying one of these." Xue Yang grinned and dropped back beside Song Lan, bumping their shoulders together. Song Lan sighed, and said, "Xiao Xingchen will be very annoyed if you come back with a chunk missing." Or don't come back at all, he didn't say, but Xiao Xingchen cast a frown back over his shoulder that conveyed it clearly.

"So boring," Xue Yang said, with a sigh. "You'll have to keep me entertained, Song Lan." There was a wicked glitter in his eye. He brushed his fingers against Song Lan's palm, curling them away before Song Lan could capture them. Song Lan looked at him, looked away; Xiao Xingchen had stopped to inspect a tree, picking hopefully at the bark. Song Lan said, quietly, "You don't - mind?"

"Mind?" Xue Yang said, eyes narrowing slightly, and Song Lan tilted his head towards Xiao Xingchen. Xue Yang stared, and Song Lan started to flush. Fortunately, that apparently made it clear to Xue Yang, and he laughed. "No, Song Lan, you're supposed to be making him happy. If you need any tips -"

"But you're - " Song Lan stopped. Xue Yang looked up at him, silent inquiry in every line of him, as if there were no question he'd be content to share Xiao Xingchen's - favours.

Not that anyone was getting them right now - and not that Song Lan could assume - the heat of his face deepened, and Xue Yang giggled. Well, it was foolishness to expect Xue Yang to behave like a normal person, but he'd assumed Xue Yang would be possessive of what he considered his.

Their attention was drawn by a particularly loud bellow; one of the lizards had wandered too close to another, it seemed, and they were bellowing at each other directly.

"Fight, fight, fight," Xue Yang crowed, and darted off before Song Lan could catch hold of him. Song Lan went after him, after a glance to see Xingchen gathering bark with no apparent interest in the fight.

The lizards had all turned to watch the fight, and they paid no attention to Xue Yang joining the audience; Song Lan hesitated further back, and then stayed there, where he could keep an eye on the broader situation but pluck Xue Yang out of it if necessary.

They moved with surprising speed, for creatures that must weigh as much as half a dozen oxen. The tails whipped back and forth, they swayed on their huge legs, their teeth snapped on air. Neither seemed inclined to back down, and as the noise and posturing crescendoed, one charged at the other.

The earth rang like a bell with the impact; they swayed, but didn't fall, lashing at each other with the claws on their small arms, their feet sliding on the green leaves as they scrabbled to shove each other down. No more bellowing, just throttled snarls through gaping jaws as they angled for a bite. That was it, Song Lan realised, whichever beast could clamp down those horrifying jaws would win. The struggle, the blood, the straining of muscle, was all to the end of getting to the killing strike.

They broke off suddenly, reeling back, and Song Lan thought perhaps one of them might back away. But they paced each other in a circle, snarling in a rise-and-fall pattern that made his hairs stand on end. The watching lizards made noise, too, low reverberating growls, and Xue Yang, of course, stuck his fingers in his mouth and let out a piercing whistle.

"If they were people," Xiao Xingchen said, making Song Lan flinch in surprise, "I suppose I would try and break up the fight. But is it any of my business? Would it be, if they were people?"

"It seems an unnecessary conflict over a small area of earth to me," Song Lan said, and then, considering, "But aren't most wars fought over the same?"

Xiao Xingchen smiled, wry. "Land, dominion over others, the attentions of the loveliest... giant lizards. And who knows? Perhaps they're intelligent enough to hold grudges, even if not to fight wars. We could be watching the culmination of years of conflict."

The beasts crashed together again, and this time one of them slipped, foot skidding in a patch of mud or wet leaves. It dropped to one haunch, and the other pressed its advantage, clawing at exposed belly with both clawed hands and raising one foot to slash with those claws, too.

That was a mistake. Off-balance as it was, when the lizard on the ground kicked out, it tumbled back, and the moments it took to recover were fatal. The lizard sprang up and lunged at the other's throat, and got the killing hold.

The crunch was a disgusting noise, as if a hundred men had bitten carelessly into a hundred chicken wings, slicing flesh and bone uncaring. A gurgle of blood, a tearing noise, and then the remaining lizard, smeared from muzzle to haunches with blood, nosed carefully along the corpse. It sniffed and prodded it here and there as if checking for signs of life.

"You got it," Xue Yang announced, and he turned up his hand, and the Yin Tiger Tally shimmered into it, black and gold like a wasp. "Oh, he was mad, feel that energy?"

Song Lan couldn't feel a thing, or see it; he wondered just how attuned to resentful energy Xue Yang was. He was distracted by the victor of the fight rearing up and howling at the sky, joined seconds later by all the other displaying lizards and, of course, Xue Yang.

The females, Song Lan noted, didn't cry out, but they were on the move. The males stepped aside for them, ceding ground, as they moved in a troop towards the site of the fight. They crowded round the corpse, nudging at it with their great muzzles, and making low, vibrating noises, like gigantic cats purring.

The largest, a beast with a scarred muzzle and sharp eyes, fastened its teeth in the corpse's thick neck, and Song Lan winced in the expectation of a feeding frenzy; but the others followed suit, gripping but not chewing, and they began to drag the body along the ground.

"Look at that!" Xue Yang swung to look at them, face alight, eyes glittering with something beyond his usual animation. Song Lan had no clear idea of how resentful energy affected a person, and certainly no idea how it affected Xue Yang, in particular. It was probably his imagination that sharpened Xue Yang's pointed teeth, the angles of his face. "Looks like they have a graveyard, right?"

"Or a larder," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang conceded the point with a wave of his hand.

"One way to find out," he said, and turned to follow the crowd of females. Song Lan was swift enough this time, catching his robe and drawing him firmly back to Xiao Xingchen. "What? What now?"

"It's getting late," Song Lan said, and nodded west, where the sun was fat and orange. "I would prefer you not be in a giant lizard graveyard - or larder - in the dark."

"Song-daozhang, when people say you can find horrible things in graveyards, they mean people like me and the things I create." Xue Yang squirmed, but not with much force, and when Song Lan tugged him closer, he went obediently, let Xingchen link their arms together and smile at him. "Well, I'll go look another time, if you insist."

"Must you?" Xiao Xingchen said. "It seems rude."

"Rude to the lizards?" Xue Yang said, and Xiao Xingchen wrinkled his nose, and sighed.

"I suppose it's a hopeless task to try and imbue you with respect for the dead?"

"Daozhang," Xue Yang said, and bumped their hips together, sending Xiao Xingchen stumbling, pulling him back by their linked arms. "It's sweet of you, but we have so much to do already."

Song Lan, having considered the matter, said, "You think there'll be resentful energy there."

"Exactly," Xue Yang said. "Which, isn't that an improvement over just massacring things?"

"I suppose so," Xiao Xingchen said. "But there's really no hurry, is there?"

"Hm," Xue Yang said, and tipped his head consideringly. "It's almost spring - must be, right, if they've started to fuck? So it'll get warmer, and there'll be more food. We should try and find something like rice, then next winter would be easier. And we can build a smoker, maybe? There's lots to do." He smiled, and said, "It could take years to just pick up enough resentful energy from what's lying around, you know."

"That's fine," Xiao Xingchen said. "Isn't it, Zichen?"

"I think we should prioritise our soap experiments," Song Lan said, "And then I'm content to wait as long as it takes." He watched Xue Yang's expression, which showed no signs of irritation; not that it would, probably, if he were deliberately hiding something.

But Song Lan found that he believed Xue Yang when he said, "All right, daozhang, I'll leave them alone. But the eggs - "

"There will be plenty of other eggs," Xiao Xingchen said, and Xue Yang laughed, tossing his head back.

They lingered a little on the slope down from their cave, looking up at the moon, almost full. The stars glittered, and the longer they looked, the more colours emerged from the black night and the pale river.

"I wonder why they move," Xiao Xingchen said, and Xue Yang shrugged.

"Maybe they're alive," he said.

"They're probably not alive," Song Lan said, because if he said they're not alive Xue Yang would demand proof. "I've read some astronomical writings, but not many."

"I really should have looked through the Baixue library," Xue Yang said. "I could have all those books up my sleeve right now."

Song Lan sighed. Xue Yang glanced up at him, and then nudged against him, a line of warmth along Song Lan's side. An apology? Reassurance? Xue Yang checking to see if Song Lan were angry enough to shove him away? Song Lan lifted his hand and knocked lightly on the back of Xue Yang's head, as if it were a door, as if he could just open it up and inspect Xue Yang's strange thoughts.

Would they make any sense at all, or would it be like kicking over a termite nest, and trying to deduce the mind of the hive?

Xue Yang just leaned into the touch, smiling.

"If we go back, will you stop using demonic cultivation?" Xiao Xingchen said, when they were in the cave and Xue Yang was taking his hair down. The strange eldritch cast was gone from his features - or perhaps Song Lan had imagined it - but he still glowed with satisfaction. His eyes were velvet black and creased up with cheer, and he smiled at them both.

"If it makes you happy, daozhang," he said. As far as Song Lan could tell, he was sincere; indifferent, even, to the prospect. "I can still do talisman work, I'm good at that. And I have plenty of tricks. Not saying I won't use it to save my life, but I can do without it."

"And no more murders," Xiao Xingchen pressed, and Xue Yang rolled his eyes.

"If you're not convinced, we don't have to go back," he said, with no bite in his voice. "I like it okay here."

Xiao Xingchen gnawed on his lip, and looked at Song Lan, who said, "If you don't believe him the first time he says it, I'm not sure him saying it again will help."

"He does have a point," Xue Yang said, and flicked his hair out of his face to grin at Song Lan. "Song-daozhang, you won't let me get bored, will you? I won't have to resort to crime to stay amused."

"It would also help Xiao Xingchen's nerves if you toned down the jokes," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang shrugged.

"What have you got if you can't laugh?" he said. "Have you seen the world? If you don't find it funny, what's left? Look at us; you tried to have me executed, I killed your family, and I - was very cruel to Xiao Xingchen. You had your own shit going on. And now we're all here together, no one killing anyone, and we're trying to undo all the bad things we did to each other. Isn't it a little bit funny?"

"There's a certain irony to the situation, I suppose," Song Lan conceded, "But I wouldn't call it funny."

"You're going to be spending years with me, Song-daozhang. If you can't tolerate me laughing, they're going to be very long years," Xue Yang quirked an eyebrow upwards. "How long before you snap and go for me with a sword?"

"That's not funny either," Xiao Xingchen snapped, and Xue Yang blinked at him, and then put a hand on his knee and gave it a shake.

"I mean, he's still mad about the whole fierce corpse thing," he said. "If he gets pissed again, it might come out. Be realistic - "

"Also not helping," Song Lan said, dry. "I've said I don't want you dead. Unless you commit new crimes, we can leave it at that."

"Hm," Xue Yang said. "Nothing lasts forever."

Song Lan raised his eyebrows, and looked pointedly at Xue Yang and then Xiao Xingchen; Xue Yang actually flushed a little before giggling and looking away. Song Lan had never known Xue Yang to even be close to abashed. A fascinating sight.

"Well, anyway, the resentful energy will take years to gather, so you have plenty of time to fret about it. I've already got the array mostly worked out, though I'll want to run some tests. I've got a ten day window, but when you're travelling uncountable thousands of years, well, that's still a small window."

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Song Lan said, and Xue Yang shrugged.

"Wouldn't hurt to have a second set of eyes look at the talismans, I suppose. It's probably not going to make much sense, but maybe you'll learn something." He grinned. Song Lan looked up and sighed.

"Why a ten day window?" Xiao Xingchen said, perhaps just to keep Xue Yang talking. It was pleasant to sit and talk, with Xiao Xingchen quietly amused and Xue Yang cheerful, reassuring. It was easy to picture a future just like this - for years, just like they'd discussed.

"I waited ten days for you on that rooftop, Xiao Xingchen," Xue Yang said, batting his eyelashes. "Honestly, I was starting to get worried you'd found a more charming murderer to chase."

"But that means," Xiao Xingchen swallowed, the smile dropping off his face. A cold sensation began to build in Song Lan's belly. "You're still planning to massacre the Chang clan?"

"No, of course not!" Xue Yang said, but the icy feeling didn't disperse. "I said no more murder, didn't I? That's why I need to get it just right, so I arrive after I've already done it."

Xiao Xingchen stared at him. Song Lan let out a sigh, and pinched the bridge of his nose. Xue Yang's cheerful expression dimmed a little. "I'm not going to do it," he said. "I'm just going to not undo it. It's different." He looked at Song Lan and said, "You said you weren't even sure it was ethical to undo - "

"This is just sophistry," Song Lan said, and lifted his head to look steadily at Xue Yang. "And you know we won't accept it."

Xue Yang scowled, and tossed his hair back. "Oh? So what are you going to do, kill me? You just said that if I didn't commit any new crimes you wouldn't. I know I said nothing lasts forever, but- "

"Xue Yang," Xiao Xingchen said, and there was frost as sharp as Shuanghua in his tone. "That's not acceptable to us. If you do this - " he shook his head. "We're not going to allow it."

"Then what, Xiao Xingchen? What happened to not being able to bear it if I died?" Xue Yang's eyes were dark and lightless; he was smiling again, savage. "Would you cut your throat right there in Chang Manor? Leave Zichen to my mercies again?"

Xiao Xingchen hitched in a sharp breath, and Xue Yang's face twisted in some unidentifiable emotion. Song Lan said, quietly, "Xue Yang - " and Xiao Xingchen found words.

"But Xue Yang," he said over Song Lan's voice. "You have your finger back, don't you? Doesn't that mean you don't have anything to take vengeance for?"

Xue Yang's eyes went very wide. The smile slipped off his face, leaving his mouth soft and uncertain.

"You have your finger back," Xiao Xingchen said again. "So all your pain and suffering is undone, and you can forgive Chang Ci'an."

There should probably be satisfaction in seeing Xue Yang wounded so deeply, but Song Lan didn't feel it. Xiao Xingchen looked like a sculpture of ice and jade, staring at Xue Yang with a cold judgement Song Lan had never seen on his face before.

Xue Yang's breathing hitched, and then again, and then it rattled out into something like a lagh and he said, "Well. Guess you were right all along, Xiao Xingchen. There really isn't going to be any forgiveness."

He rose, and Song Lan tensed; but he just turned to the door and stumbled out into the darkness. Xiao Xingchen sat, staring into empty space.

Song Lan dropped to his knees at Xiao Xingchen's side, hands hesitating in the air before he settled one on Xiao Xingchen's shoulder and the other on his knee. Xiao Xingchen collapsed in on himself, face in his hands, shoulders curving inwards.

"Fuck," Xiao Xingchen said, the word dropping from his lips with surprising force, and then, "I didn't -" and then, with sudden fury, "Why must he - "

"Xiao Xingchen," Song Lan said, careful. "You can't expect miracles - "

"I'm a fool, I know," Xiao Xingchen said, bitter now. He dropped his hands, revealing dry eyes, bright and fierce. "I just thought - how can he be - is it all an act, Zichen? How can he be so... normal and then speak so casually of murder?"

"I don't think it's an act," Song Lan said. "He doesn't see the value of human life as we do."

Xiao Xingchen shook his head, and said, "I should have known. I can't... I suppose at least I didn't make Xue Yang this way, but what does it say of me that I love him anyway?"

"It says you have a compassionate heart," Song Lan said, and Xiao Xingchen shook his head again.

"What good is my compassion for Xue Yang to his victims?" Then he laughed, brokenly, and said, "And it was the thought of his future victims that spurred me to pursue him in the first place, and so here we are again, where I am high-handed enough to think I can change the course of events. And once more, I dragged you into it... you should never have been involved in any of this."

"Xiao Xingchen," he said, helpless, "I - "

The words I would always choose to share your burdens trembled on his tongue. But how could he say that, when those burdens had also been shouldered by innocents whose only sin was their association with Song Lan?

The silence stretched too long, and Xiao Xingchen, gently, turned away from Song Lan, shaking off his touch with great care, as if shooing a butterfly from its perch.

"You shouldn't be here," he said, softly, and Song Lan rose, and after a moment, left their little bone hut.

Song Lan had to guess at where he'd find Xue Yang, and fortunately he got it right. He was in the cave up the slope from theirs, where they'd found the horned skull, and it had undergone some changes. It had its own protective array, and the floor was covered with a thick layer of sand with rocks and drawn grooves to mimic an array.

Xue Yang was pacing around the array, and he had Jiangzai in his hands, rolling the hilt from palm to palm. Song Lan's hand stole up to check his swordbelt, and then he took a breath and stepped forward, the ward chiming. Xue Yang whirled towards him, raising his sword; the blade lay against his cheek, almost touching. He smiled, a smile that brought back bad days. Xue Yang looked like he wanted to see death.

"I said I wouldn't lie down and die so easily for you," he said, voice pitched like a poorly made xiao. "Do you want to keep your tongue?"

Song Lan winced, and a shadow crossed Xue Yang's face. Xue Yang had never laid hand or blade on Xiao Xingchen, but he hadn't held back with A-Qing. Where did Song Lan sit in that spectrum? He moved slowly, stepping sideways, keeping his hands visible. He sat down on a conveniently sized rock, and said, "Come here."

"Fuck off," Xue Yang snapped, but then he lowered the sword, smile dying for a second before flickering back to life. "What's your game, Song Lan?"

"No game," Song Lan said. "You're upset. Come sit with me. I'd prefer you put the sword away first."

Xue Yang cocked his head, and said, "Xiao Xingchen's upset. You're upset."

"Let's not make it worse. That's an option, you know. Come here, sit down. You'll feel better soon."

"It's not about feeling better!" Xue Yang bared his teeth, and Song Lan shrugged.

"Maybe it should be." He eyed Xue Yang, who was holding Jiangzai loosely now, forefinger rubbing over the hilt. "Yang'er," he said, and watched him twitch. Xue Yang narrowed his eyes, mouth pursing up. "Come here. Please?"

"You're not fucking subtle," Xue Yang said, and Song Lan shrugged. To his intense relief, the sword vanished away. Song Lan held out his hand, and Xue Yang took a slow step, then another, until Song Lan could take his wrist and pull him closer. Xue Yang went obediently to his knees at Song Lan's side, tucked under his arm. Then he made a noise, low and wounded. He turned his face against Song Lan's shoulder and Song Lan gently combed his fingers through Xue Yang's hair, loose and uncombed.

"Don't you have things to say, Song Lan?" he said. "How I'm disgusting, a beast?"

"Unlike Xiao Xingchen, I didn't think you'd transformed overnight into a virtuous person," Song Lan said. "I can't say I'm happy you still want fifty innocent people dead, but I'm not surprised. So. Here we are."

Xue Yang lifted his head, and inspected Song Lan's face. He could have been looking for anything, and Song Lan had no idea what he'd find. He would have expected this, if it had occurred to him, but Xiao Xingchen - Xiao Xingchen had hoped for better. For too much.

Song Lan looked away rather than endure his stare. He looked at the array instead, drawn with painstaking precision, rocks that were flat discs and rocks that were mostly spheres, all neatly labelled in charcoal. Whatever the chaos in Xue Yang's brain, his work was neat. He absently followed the lines of it, and then he stood up, almost tipping Xue Yang over.

"What?" Xue Yang said, and scrambled up to his feet. He wrapped his hand in Song Lan's robe, pressing close.

"The array," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang made a questioning noise. Song Lan turned to look at him, so he could see Xue Yang's face when he said, "It's only for one person."

Xue Yang giggled, though it came out uncertain. He looked upwards, his whole manner saying oops! You caught me. "Song-daozhang," he began, in a wheedling tone, and Song Lan shook him off, pushed him away. It seemed as though he, too, had hoped for too much of Xue Yang.

"Amazing," he said tightly. "You've managed to surprise me. All your supposed devotion to Xiao Xingchen, and yet you've been planning your escape all along? Is there anything truthful about you, Xue Yang?"

For a second, Xue Yang's mouth went round and soft, and then his grin blazed back, bright and sharp.

"Song-daozhang," he said again, and this time his tone wasn't soft at all. "You don't read arrays well, do you? Look again. Look at that." He pointed, and Song Lan looked at the nearest point on the array, where all the lines joined, marked by a gleaming black spiral stone.

It must represent the Yin iron, he realised - but it was a good four paces from the centre of the array, where the traveler would stand. So either Xue Yang had planned to abandon the Yin Tiger Tally -

"It's not for me, idiot," Xue Yang said, and then he shoved Song Lan, throwing him forward with shocking force into the centre of the array. Song Lan whirled, and found him standing over the shining spiral rock, the Yin Tiger Tally in hand. "It's for you."

Fuxue came easily to hand; Song Lan lunged at him, and his blade met Jiangzai. Xue Yang laughed, high and wild, and Song Lan feinted towards his leg, and drew back. Xue Yang smiled at him, teeth bared, and said, "Come on, Song Lan. This is what you wanted all along. Now's your chance! Xiao Xingchen won't mind. Fucking finish it, you coward!"

And he still didn't move; stood there with his hands full of weapons and didn't strike out. Song Lan's grip loosened on his sword, his heart pounding.

"No," he said, and something like betrayal flashed over Xue Yang's face. Then his smile came back, sweeter than ever. He lowered his sword, and every word was sugar.

"Ask yourself - haven't I been good? Haven't I done everything my daozhang asked of me until today? Do you think I'd just send you away unbidden, Song-daozhang, leave him heartbroken?"

Song Lan's mouth opened, and then closed. Xue Yang giggled, and said, "He doesn't want me, but he doesn't want you, either. Maybe it's time we said goodbye to him, eh?" Jiangzai twitched up, darted forwards; Song Lan caught it on Fuxue easily.

Running footsteps, light as deer, heralded Xiao Xingchen. He cried out, "No, stop, please," and then Shuanghua was in his hand. Xue Yang turned to meet him, smiling, and Song Lan lunged forward and grabbed him by the scruff, pulling him back before the white blade could touch him.

He wasn't sure if that had been a killing strike from Xiao Xingchen. Judging from the startled look in his eyes, neither was he.

"Xue Yang," he said, "What are you doing now? Do you never tire of bleeding those who show you kindness?"

"Fuck off, Xiao Xingchen," Xue Yang spat, and pulled out of Song Lan's grasp. "Here to stab me again, is it? So much for no new crimes. Remember the last time you told me my crimes were in the past? It's always lies from you!"

Xiao Xingchen faltered, Shunghua lowering, and that was space enough for Xue Yang to dart past him, away into the night, leaving Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan staring at each other.

"You shouldn't have confronted him alone," Xiao Xingchen said, tiredly, and Song Lan shook his head.

"I wasn't, I - " he looked down at the array around him. Charcoal on rock and lines in dirt, not a single real talisman. Xue Yang could no more have sent him away with this than with the sketches in his notes. He'd just been trying to provoke Song Lan to attack.

So what he'd said -

The truth has always been enough for you, Xue Yang had said once, and Song Lan looked at Xiao Xingchen again.

"Did you ask him to send me back?"

Unlike Xue Yang, Xiao Xingchen's face was utterly truthful. His skin paled even further, and he said, "Zichen -"

"You wanted -" Song Lan's voice faltered.

"Zichen, no, it wasn't like that - "

"Haven't I said, time and again, I want to be with you?"

"But you shouldn't," Xiao Xingchen said, and now his eyes welled up. "You'd be safer away from here, away from me, away from - from him. All we do is hurt you; we bring disaster with us, everywhere we go."

"Xiao Xingchen, you can't decide that for me - "

"I didn't!" He stepped forward, hands lifting and falling before Song Lan could summon the will to take hold of them. "I just asked - I thought, if you wanted it - it would be ready. Xue Yang said it would be easy, so I thought, why not?"

"Easy, was it?" Song Lan looked down at the intricate pattern.

"Yes, the first designs were for just one person, I think - we didn't talk about it much, but..."

"So," Song Lan said, feeling it out, "Xue Yang already has an array for sending one person through time? He could have left whenever he wanted?"

"Not without resentful energy, I suppose," Xiao Xingchen said, and then his eyes widened. Song Lan remembered at the same moment. "The graveyard -"

"We have to find him," Song Lan said. "Letting him go back without us - "

"We can't allow it," Xiao Xingchen said. He pulled his hands down over his face. "Can we stop him? We have to."

"He didn't hurt me," Song Lan said. "And he didn't hurt you. Let's not lose control." Again, he didn't say; he'd let Xue Yang goad him again.

But not quite so thoroughly, this time. Perhaps he could learn better after all.

*

The graveyard was trivially simple to find. A dozen enormous lizards dragging a corpse left a broad, muddy trail, easily discernable in the bright moonlight. It passed through an area Xue Yang guessed to be a nesting area; he thought briefly of eggs, and dismissed it.

He tasted resentment on the air, and picked up the pace. The graveyard was a bare, exposed stretch of slope, the wind cold. Not like the sheltered nesting grounds. Skulls almost as long as his body lay about, ribcages arching, bony limbs curled up.

Ahead, he saw the fresh corpse. He approached it, for no real reason, and found it had dozens of broad fern fronds laid over it. The tail had been curled up, the plumes draped over the head.

He laughed, and put his hand over his mouth to muffle it. He wondered if Xiao Xingchen would have so much as closed his eyes if it had been him who died that day in Yi City. Song Lan would certainly have thrown his body to the dogs, but Xiao Xingchen claimed -

Xue Yang pressed harder, teeth cutting into his lip. He had washed Xiao Xingchen's body, fed him qi almost every day, never straying from Yi City for more than a few days.

It was funny, probably, that a big fucking lizard would have a better funeral than him. More mourners, too. Well, Xiao Xingchen would have to remember him, every day he looked around him at this strange world.

He turned his back on the massive corpse, and let the Yin Tiger Tally draw in resentful energy. The beasts didn't have that much, less than a human who'd died by violence, but he thought they must have been using this graveyard for a very long time. It was layered thickly, and he breathed it in, and thought of the little coffin house, where so many corpses had lain, kept so clean and neat for all those years.

Maybe he'd just go back there. Back to his wounded body; let Xiao Xingchen heal him again, and then urge him and A-Qing to travel on with him. Song Lan would never find them.

Of course it wouldn't be the same, but would it be enough? Could he enjoy Xiao Xingchen's smile, his touches, his surprised laughter, the scent of his hair and the sweet touch of his mouth, knowing that none of it would be allowed to Xue Yang? He'd known before that none of it was for him.

Perhaps it would be enough. Xue Yang had lived on scraps before, and some part of him must always have known the truth.

He leaned over, clasping his knees, and grimaced against the grind of sensation in his belly, where the abscess should have been long healed. He didn't like to think of Yi City, nor of Xiao Xingchen's disgusted face, nor of the way Song Lan had pushed him away. If tearing them apart would untangle the horrible knots inside him, he'd do it; but he knew that it would be like A-Qing, and just make it worse.

He should just go back to Yueyang, before his massacre, and tear the place apart again. That, he was sure, would never lose its savour. And instead of waiting around for the celestial cultivator to catch up and see his failure - Xue Yang's triumph - he could...

What, though? He could turn on Wen Ruohan, with the Yin Tiger Tally in hand; turn his own fierce corpses back on him. That would be funny. But then what? He could find A-Qing - she wouldn't trust him, of course, but he could give her money, buy her tolerance for as long as it took to get her set up somewhere safe.

And then what? She wouldn't want him around.

He ran his thumb along the curved edge of the Yin Tiger Tally. It was beautiful work; he hadn't repaired it perfectly, but it was still lovely, even a little asymmetric. It was his, now. The Yiling Patriarch's legacy.

If he'd had this when he was younger -

If he'd had this when he was seven -

He hadn't had a golden core at seven, but you didn't need a golden core to cultivate demonic energy. His body would be frail, but he would have all the knowledge - and perhaps more importantly, the will - of his adult self.

Chang Ci'an wouldn't be expecting to be attacked by resentful energy, and he wouldn't expect it to be a small child controlling it. Sect leader he was, but he was far from the strongest cultivator Xue Yang had destroyed.

And why stop there? The man who'd beaten him, the waiter who'd thrown him into the street. The man who'd driven the cart. Every person there who'd looked away from the child bleeding in the street. All of them who'd let that child be hungry and alone in the first place. Let every last one of them die, and instead of a city of fierce corpses like Yi City, he could build another Burial Mounds.

Or his small body would prove incapable of containing those forces, and be torn apart. A good enough end, with all his enemies dead around him.

The Yin Tiger Tally pulsed sweetly in his hand, as if it liked the idea. It had never let him down. Of all the things in his life that had turned on him, wounded him, resentful energy had never been one. Perhaps Song Lan had been more right than he knew when he said Xue Yang was attuned to resentful energy.

Twin shadows came racing over the boneyard towards him, and he looked up, and sighed. He couldn't outrun them, so he waited as they came spiralling down, all flowing robes and stern stares.

"Fuck off," he said, which had about as much effect as spitting in the wind.

"It's dangerous here," Song Lan said, like Xue Yang wasn't the most dangerous thing here, like he couldn't make the enormous corpse behind him get up and dance. "Come on. Get on your sword."

"Fuck off. I'm not going back with you. You want me to spare the Chang clan? Well, I'll fucking do it. I'm going to go to Kuizhou and kill Chang Ci'an. Isn't that fair? Isn't it self-defence, even? If I never touch the Chang Clan, you'll be -"

Song Lan lifted his hands in the air, as if exasperated beyond measure, and said, "Will you stop murdering people."

"What, now you care about Kuizhou? You've never even been there!"

"Where's - never mind. Can't you do anything but plot revenges? What's wrong with you?"

"You don't understand," Xue Yang said. It was a perfect plan. The revenge he most wanted, and Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan would never meet him and he wouldn't be around to care, except apparently it still wasn't good enough.

"Then explain it to me! You've got words enough when you want them. Tell me why you're so obsessed with - with revenge."

Xue Yang giggled, and caught a wary look from Song Lan that would have gratified him once. "I've tried before," he said. "It didn't - work out so well. I don't want to tell you too."

Xiao Xingchen raised his head, and gave Xue Yang a steady look. Xue Yang turned away from it, uninterested in another dose of the noble folk hero's judgement. There was still resentful energy to gather. Xiao Xingchen cleared his throat; Xue Yang didn't look back.

Xiao Xingchen said, in a distant voice, like the bitter frost of Song Lan's nickname, "You didn't express a moment's remorse - "

"I don't feel any. I don't give a fuck! And I don't understand why you care so much about the Chang clan!"

"You killed fifty people - "

"We know," Song Lan said. "Xue Yang - "

"Shut the fuck up," Xue Yang. "Fine. Fine. Okay. Don't fucking - " he turned and looked at Song Lan, at his stupid serious stare that Xue Yang had hated so much. He didn't hate it now, and his stomach roiled unpleasantly at the thought of seeing it curdle into the disgust that was already lurking around the corners of Xiao Xingchen's mouth.

Maybe it was better. Maybe if they both looked at him like that, he could cut the cord, untether himself. Leave them here lost in time.

Well, what then? It would be just the same as last time. No purpose left in his life.

"Okay," he said. "Song Lan. When you were a little kid your parents died and you had nothing, nothing at all. And then Baixue Temple, or your shifu or whatever, came along and picked you out of the gutter and fed you and taught you and gave you sweets and shit. Right? Well, I didn't have Baixue Temple. When I was a kid on the streets, when people kicked the shit out of me or stole the food I'd begged or drove me off when I tried to sit against the wall of their house because there was a fire inside and it was just a bit warmer - " he heaved in a breath, and grinned. "It was revenge that picked me up when I was shoved down. It was revenge that kept me warm in the snow. Revenge had me eat out of the midden to survive. Revenge that cultivated my golden core."

When he'd been the delinquent of Kuizhou, he'd taken revenge tenfold, fiftyfold for every blow and insult. But all the food he took couldn't fill the belly of the child he'd been; hunger had consumed him as he cultivated enough rage and power to go after the Chang clan.

None of the wounds he inflicted did anything for that child.

"So when you say oh, Xue Yang, why don't you just let go of revenge, remember what it felt like to let go of Baixue," Xue Yang said, sliding the words home, seeing outrage and indignation widen Song Lan's eyes.

"That's not the same," he began, predictably, and the sheer force of anger that swelled up in Xue Yang surprised even him.

"I know!" he bellowed, and Song Lan flinched back. Had he ever yelled at them? Probably not. He already felt emptied out by his loss of control, as if he was vomiting up something foul that scraped him raw as he expelled it. "I know it wasn't the same but it was all I had, Song Lan. I'll cling to what's mine as long as I'm alive, and if you say it doesn't matter because it's not as good as what you had, I'll burn it to the fucking ground all over again!"

Revenge. A coffin house. A girl who hated him, a blind enemy who didn't know him. A dead body, a fierce corpse, a maimed enemy.

A man who judged him but occasionally let himself be touched affectionately. Song Lan, whatever the fuck he was. Xue Yang couldn't let go now, either.

The anger had gone, and this was the part he hated; when it was done and he was left hollow. Like resentful energy, it took a while to build back up, and he could feel other sensations crawling in the space inside him, things he didn't want to know. He wanted -

He wanted to cling, still, but they were staring at him like he was something strange and terrible. They hadn't looked at him like that in a while. Probably starting to think they knew Xue Yang.

"You're," Song Lan gestured. "You, ah - "

There was resentful energy coiling round him, black and thick. It would coil down into the empty space inside him, or fold into the Yin Tiger Tally. Instead Xue Yang turned and stomped down the slope. Maybe he'd kill some lizards. Raise their corpses to kill some more. It was something to do.

Xiao Xingchen's light footsteps came after him, and he said, "Fuck off, Xiao Xingchen. I'm so fucking tired of your judgment." Xue Yang called Jiangzai to his hand, and levelled it. The emptiest of threats; Xiao Xingchen didn't even have the grace to look nervous.

"Didn't I offer you kindness?" Xiao Xingchen said, and Xue Yang sighed. The spark inside him failed to kindle. He was hollow; there was nothing to reach for, no anger to light him up. "A home with us? Did it mean nothing to you, to have someone save your life?"

"You have it the wrong way round," he said. "You weren't someone. You were Xiao Xingchen. And you didn't save my life, not Xue Yang's life. You saved some poor stranger's life. Why do I care what Xiao Xingchen does for a nameless stranger? I care what you did to Xue Yang. And when you said things like your past doesn't matter to me and I don't need to know your name, I knew none of it was meant for Xue Yang."

There was a long silence, and then Xiao Xingchen said, "Did that change?" and Xue Yang looked up at him. A jade statue, a finely carved god of justice. God, but Xue Yang missed his own daozhang, who had disorderly hair and bandaged eyes and a ready smile. "You stopped, you said. We lived in peace."

Another silence. Xue Yang said, "You never knew Xue Yang. But after a while..." A longer pause, and Xue Yang said, "I really expected you to figure it out, at first. I was waiting for that. I know there are a lot of cultivators, but there aren't many missing a finger, and I wasn't exactly acting. I was just - myself, even if I wasn't Xue Yang." He laughed, crackling and humourless. "But then I was Xue Yang, and you were still Xiao Xingchen, so..." a shrug. "You wouldn't save Xue Yang's life. You stuck that sword in me the moment you found out."

"You had just killed - someone," Xiao Xingchen said, with a quick glance at Song Lan, who had come up beside him.

"Another stranger, as far as you knew. But he mattered to you more than Xue Yang." He grinned, humourless. "You knew as soon as you heard the name it was me in the wrong, even though this stranger tracked me down and came at me with a sword, without so much as a word - "

"Would you ever have told me?"

"Never," Xue Yang said. "I knew how you'd react. Don't lie, Xiao Xingchen. Even if there hadn't been a body, you'd have drawn your sword on me, and maybe it would all have ended the same."

Xiao Xingchen looked away, gaze catching on Song Lan's grim face. "I don't know," he said. "You're probably right. Your cruelty - against Song Lan, myself - "

"I know," Xue Yang said. "Do you think I don't? For all your feeling towards me, you wouldn't lift a finger to stop me dying. You would have let any enemy kill me, let me die of that abscess. Who can commit a crime against Xue Yang? Might as well ask for justice for a dog in the gutter."

"Xue Yang -"

"If I died it would be a relief to you," Xue Yang said, tiredly, and closed his eyes. "Now you're over the shock. You'd say it was for the best."

"That's not true," Xiao Xingchen said, but Xue Yang saw colour mount up into his cheeks even in the uncertain moonlight. Xiao Xingchen was not a good liar. "What do you even know about - feelings?"

Xue Yang laughed, and then he said, "Everything I know about it, you taught me. Isn't that funny, Xiao Xingchen? If you don't like what I know, who's to blame?"

"Then blame me instead of spilling your poison on everyone else!" Xiao Xingchen snapped, and stepped forward, right into the blade. Xue Yang jerked Jiangzai up just in time; even so, she sliced a thin line in Xiao Xingchen's robe, and Xue Yang's hand spasmed open, and Jiangzai fell.

Xue Yang stared down at her, heart pulsing in his throat. Song Lan stooped and picked her up. "We're going," Song Lan said firmly, and instead of giving Xue Yang back his sword, he bodily lifted him onto Fuxue. Xue Yang kicked him in the ankle, not very hard, and then thunked his head down on Song Lan's shoulder, daring him to object.

He was so tired. Xiao Xingchen didn't look much better; as soon as they were back at the cave, with a murmur to Song Lan, he retreated to the bed. That should have been Xue Yang's cue to follow him, curl up and share his warmth.

Instead, he stood with his back to the fire, and watched him for a little while. He couldn't really pretend it was the Xiao Xingchen from before - even when his blindfold had come loose, it was clear enough that his eyes were gone - but like this he was soft and sweet, and Xue Yang liked to look at him.

To think he might smile at Xue Yang, or speak kindly to him.

He sighed, and turned around. Song Lan sat by the fire, and his eyes slitted open when Xue Yang sat, a careful distance between them.

They stared at each other for a while. There was something on Song Lan's mind, and Xue Yang waited with moths swirling in his hollow ribcage.

"So how soon can you do it?" he said, and it took a moment for Xue Yang to figure out what the fuck he meant. Then he snorted, and had to exert a lot of self-control not to laugh out loud, bellow it out like a giant lizard looking to fuck.

"I'm not going to do it," he said when his ribcage had stopped shaking, and Song Lan frowned at him.

"I meant me."

"I know what you fucking meant. Don't be stupid, Song-daozhang."

"Isn't it what you want?" Song Lan said bitterly. "Send me back, and stay here with him. He'd forget about me in time."

Xue Yang giggled. It was funny, how by the time his plans came to fruition he wanted something else. He'd been spoiled by Chang manor, which had gone off so beautifully and brought him perfect happiness for ten whole days.

"Not forget," Xue Yang said. "But yeah, I expect he'd cheer up in time. At first I thought he wanted me to send you to safety and then kill me, but… I don't think so. After all, it's not like I couldn't chase you down again, right?"

"Then do it," Song Lan said. "What's stopping you? Afraid he'll change his mind about you when he doesn't have anything to distract himself from what you've done?"

A weak barb, and Xue Yang shrugged it off. He took hold of a strand of his hair, rolled it between his fingers.

"Not sure," he said. "Just doesn't seem like a good idea."

Song Lan stared. He seemed serious. "What does that mean?" he said, and Xue Yang shrugged.

"I just think about getting rid of you and I don't like it. And Xiao Xingchen won't like it, and you won't like it. So it seems like a waste of my time and talisman paper."

"Xiao Xingchen wants me to go."

"Sure," Xue Yang said, smiling. "And when you're gone Xiao Xingchen will be like - " He straightened his back, let his shoulders slump gracefully; not a slump, just a gentle droop. He turned his head a little, mouth soft and downturned, let his lashes weigh down his eyelids. After a second, he twitched up the corner of his mouth, and he said in Xiao Xingchen's voice, "I'm all right, little friend. What shall we have for dinner?"

Xiao Xingchen's voice, but thick with grief. Song Lan's mouth opened, but no sound came out. Xue Yang watched him from the corner of his eye, even as his lips twisted into a tremulous smile.

"Stop that," Song Lan said, turning quickly away, and Xue Yang let Xiao Xingchen's expression fall away, put on Xue Yang. His mouth curled reluctantly into a mocking smile.

"I was three years with him in Yi City," he said. "I'm really not interested in sitting through it again."

"Don't," he said, and put his hands over his eyes. Xue Yang considered the space beside him, but Song Lan had shoved him away earlier.

"Maybe I can make him happy again, but he doesn't seem very pleased with me right now," Xue Yang continued. And he wasn't in the mood to make up to Xiao Xingchen, either. "He doesn't want you to go. But he thinks you - "

"That's the problem," Song Lan said. "He thinks I want to leave him again."

Xue Yang fell silent for a moment, and then said, "You did just ask me - "

"Because he -" Song Lan shook his head. "How can he - I spent so long looking for him, waiting for him - "

"Well, you know Xiao Xingchen," Xue Yang said. "Everything's up to him. Don't be stupid, Song-daozhang. He dropped hints I should leave for the first three months I was in Yi City, and even after that he'd come in every two months all are you sure you want to stay with us, little friend, it's a poor place for a talented cultivator like you - " He shrugged. "If I'd hadn't been out for revenge, I'd probably just have torched the place and moved on. But I stayed, and then I realised he wanted me to stay. Like he wants you to stay. He just thinks you'll be better off somewhere else."

"I wouldn't be."

"Yeah, so don't be stupid."

"It's your fault he's like this," Song Lan said, which actually did sting. Xue Yang looked away.

"Yeah. Haven't worked out how to fix it yet, though, so you just have to live with it. Not by running off." He considered it, and then said, "He hasn't tried to make me leave. Probably because I'm too dangerous. I don't think that would work for you."

"Congratulations, you're low enough he doesn't think you'd be better without him," Song Lan spat, and that one landed. Xue Yang winced, bared his teeth, and then laughed, a wild note in it.

"You're not wrong, Song-daozhang! Do you know, that was what I planned, originally? To make him commit the same crimes as I did. So he'd see he wasn't better than me."

"That's vile," Song Lan said, "You're vile - "

"But I'm smarter than you, Song Lan, because I'm not doing the same stupid shit all over again. I'm not going to kill you and I'm not going to get rid of you."

The bed creaked, and they both looked round to see Xiao Xingchen sit up.

Xue Yang couldn't face him, not now. He rose, and went out into the night, which was slowly becoming pre-dawn.

"Xue Yang," Song Lan said behind him, with a rustle of his robes, and Xue Yang said without looking round, "I'm not going far, Song-daozhang. What, am I a prisoner now?"

Song Lan didn't reply, but he didn't follow when Xue Yang left.

The moon had set, and only the glitter of stars lit his way.

The air was dead ice. The lizards might feel the spring coming, but Xue Yang couldn't. Xiao Xingchen had always been better at it, even blind; when they were out, he would hear a chirping bird, or smell something green, and declare finer days right around the corner. Just a caged bird, Xue Yang would say, or tell him he was smelling someone's dinner. There was going to be winter forever; well, they'd had a good run.

And Xiao Xingchen would laugh, and soon enough the bitter cold would turn to the damp cold of early spring, which wasn't really an improvement, but encouraged them in the unlikely belief that warm weather was coming.

It was warmer to run than to fly, and he jogged a decent way from their camp, to where the trees were older, closer. He skirted the deep forest, listening intently for signs of life.

There was nothing, and he had to slow and make his way under the canopy, where it was quiet. He picked his way through delicately, focused entirely on putting his feet down as gently as possible, so he could listen.

Finally, he heard the breathing. One of the tree-eaters breathing was barely audible, but they huddled together to sleep, for warmth or for safety.

He hoped it was for warmth, because it wasn't doing shit for their safety. He ghosted up to the packed bodies, picked out the most available neck, and sliced it. By the time the herd had raised the alarm, the smell of blood sending them into shrilling panic, Xue Yang was well away with the body over his shoulders.

The pack lizards were waiting for him up on the rocky slopes. They'd learned fast, and just watched as he laid down the body and slit it open down the belly. Then he sliced off a big strip of flesh, and chewed pointedly on one end before retreating twenty paces or so with it, and sitting down on a rock. They swarmed in with minimal jostling, ordering themselves according to their own hierarchy. The biggest seemed to eat the choicest parts, so Xue Yang had begun to take his own share before backing off, to make his position clear.

Song Lan would call him disgusting for it, no doubt. He'd rather be eating rice and root vegetables. Well, he was stuck here with lizards to eat as long as Xue Yang felt like it.

One of the smaller lizards, the one that had been chewing on the end of the tail, slunk up towards him, hunched low as if it thought it could somehow escape his notice. It stopped just out of range - or what would have been out of range, if Xue Yang didn't have a sword - and tilted its head, and looked at him.

It wasn't like Xue Yang was planning to eat the raw meat, after all. He dangled the strip, and watched the tail switch back and forth, quills rattling, the clawed feet shifting uneasily. It looked back at the carcass, which was being thoroughly shredded, and then it hopped forward and snapped up the end of the strip. Xue Yang let go, and it wolfed the whole thing and eyed him with obvious consideration. Then, concluding he was no more use to it, it scuttled back down to the carcass and began to gnaw on the tail again.

One tree-eater a day kept the pack sated enough not to bother them. He thought they were intelligent enough to figure out that if they killed him, he couldn't feed them.

He'd thought Xiao Xingchen might be pleased. The tree-eaters didn't seem to release resentful energy, so killing them probably didn't count against him, but not having to kill the pack lizards was good. Safer, certainly, but maybe good if they were actually... if the resentful energy made them enough to matter.

Because everyone fucking mattered to Xiao Xingchen except Xue Yang.

He managed a wisp of anger, but it dispersed quickly, like a fragmented spirit slipping through his fingers. He'd thought he'd give up anything to have Xiao Xingchen back. Had already given up so much, let go of so much anger. You're vile, Song Lan had said, and once he'd have burned the man's eyes out for that crime.

But it seemed as though it would never be enough. As long as he was Xue Yang, Xiao Xingchen would always be nipping bites off him. Prying parts of him away. Until he wasn't Xue Yang at all. Maybe Xiao Xingchen could forgive him then; but if he'd wanted to be unmade, there were far easier ways.

There was no point in Xiao Xingchen's affections if Xue Yang were no longer Xue Yang.

Chapter Text

When morning came, Xue Yang retreated to the empty bed, and stayed there. Xiao Xingchen hadn't been planning to speak to him, but it annoyed him to be ignored in turn.

He didn't move until it was past midnight again, and then went out on his early morning errands; and when he came back he dropped a fish on the fire stones and went back to bed.

Song Lan tried to get him up for breakfast; he wouldn't come. So Song Lan bodily picked him up and dumped him on his feet, and Xue Yang tipped his head back and stared up at him.

"Eat something," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang laughed the horrible laugh that made Xiao Xingchen's spine freeze.

"I'm practising inedia," he said. "Let me be." He tried to squirm free, but Song Lan tightened his grip. Xue Yang sighed, and let his head loll forward again. "No," he said, and then he wouldn't reply to anything Song Lan tried, stayed silent until Song Lan finally let him go.

He sat down against the wall, knees gathered to his chest. Small, almost, without his smile and swinging hair and buoyant attitude.

They left fish in the pot for him, in case he changed his mind, and went out under the guise of wood-gathering. After a while, Song Lan said, "Xue Yang told me you didn't want me to leave."

"I'm sorry," Xiao Xingchen began, and Song Lan shook his head.

"Don't say that. Tell me why. Have I - was it something I did - "

"No!"

"Didn't I tell you, again and again, that I wanted to be here? With you?" Song Lan said, and Xiao Xingchen nodded. "You don't believe me. Why did you believe me when i sent you away, but you won't believe me when I beg to stay with you?"

Why do you believe my lies, but not believe me when I'm telling the truth? Xue Yang's voice spoke, and Xiao Xingchen closed his eyes against the prickle of tears.

"I just," he said, and he swallowed, and again. "Zichen, how long before - perhaps it's already too late, I - I am going to break this, if I haven't already. I knew - I knew eventually I would drive you away, that your patience would not be infinite, and I just wanted you to have the choice. I thought it would be - fitting." He let out a dry, humourless laugh. "You know, I didn't think I could drive Xue Yang away, but it seems I have. They say there's a curse on Baoshan Sanren's disciples, you know, but the truth is that my judgement is flawed, and - "

"Xiao Xingchen," Song Lan interrupted, pained. He lifted his hand, ghosted it over Xiao Xingchen's cheek. "You haven't - "

"You have forgiven so much," Xiao Xingchen said, "And all I have done is demand more from you - "

"Xingchen," he interrupted again, louder. "Will you listen to me, instead of your doubts?"

"I - yes." Xiao Xingchen blinked up at him. "I'm sorry, Zichen."

"What I want is to stay by your side. I want to love you and be loved by you. And if sometimes we hurt each other, I want us to come back together and forgive each other." Song Lan brushed his thumb over Xiao Xingchen's cheekbone. Xiao Xingchen blinked, and a tear spilled over; he didn't want to close his eyes against it, not as long as he could look up into the tender light in Song Lan's eyes. And then Song Lan said, "And I want Xue Yang, too."

Xiao Xingchen blinked at him, and Song Lan ducked his head, a faint colour in his cheeks. "You say you don't want to burden me, but I no longer find his presence a burden. He's a dangerous and cruel man. But I understand why you care about him." He took a breath, and said, "I don't want to kill him. I want the future we talked about, where we're together and are happy. We rushed towards it too quickly, but I think it's still possible."

"I don't know if I do," Xiao Xingchen sighed. Every day, he became more confused about his feelings for Xue Yang. "It might be - too late."

"Is it too late for you and me?"

"I hope not. I don't want it to be. It's selfish, but I don't want to let go of you."

"We've let go of each other too easily, in the past," Song Lan said, and a tentative smile curled his mouth. "I can't accuse Xue Yang of that."

"I suppose not, no. Do you think - "

"Well, we won't let go of him just yet," Song Lan said. He took Xiao Xingchen's hand in his, their fingers linking together, and he smiled.

Later, Xiao Xingchen knelt in front of Xue Yang, and said, "Will you talk to me?"

Xue Yang didn't speak, but he didn't brush off Xiao Xingchen's hand when he pushed back Xue Yang's messy hair, touched his cheek so he looked up. With his mouth set into that small, unhappy line he was all eyes and misery. He looked young, and Xiao Xingchen reminded himself that Xue Yang was older than him now, by years. That Xiao Xingchen had been dead, and Xue Yang had spent years refusing to let him go.

He had, all things considered, changed surprisingly little. This, now, was different.

"Yang'er," he said, and Xue Yang shook his head. "Please."

"It's funny," Xue Yang said, and his upper lip curled just a little, exposing the white line of his teeth, the pointed canines. "I was thinking you should let me go, but you're not even keeping me here. It is funny, isn't it?"

Xiao Xingchen's breath hitched in his chest. Even now, months later - in his own memory, at least - that day hurt savagely to recall. Yes, he'd begged Xue Yang to let him go, but the only thing keeping him there was himself. For a moment, he thought he'd found his way free, and then - then he'd woken here.

Xue Yang's gaze was focused, now, intent. "Did it feel good?" he said, and Xiao Xingchen shook his head, confused. "Hurting me," Xue Yang clarified. Did it feel good? I felt good when I was hurting you. Right up to the moment you opened your throat. I thought maybe hurting A-Qing would help, but it didn't. You know, I regretted that while I was doing it. I thought if I pushed through it I'd feel better at the end, but - I didn't." He blinked his wide dark eyes, and said, "Did it feel good?"

"Yes. For a moment." Xiao Xingchen stared back, watched his lashes flutter down and his mouth make a ghost of his usual smile.

"How about that?" he said. "I brought you down to my level after all." His head lolled sideways, a crude imitation of his curious head-tilt. "I don't like this, either." He giggled, and then he got up, swaying a little, and made for the door. Xiao Xingchen chased after him; he turned upslope, presumably to the other cave, and Xiao Xingchen turned a helpless look on Song Lan, who grimaced.

It felt strange with only the two of them in the cave; quieter, colder. Sometimes hours went by with only the little lizard's chirping. Song Lan got up each morning just before dawn and went to check on Xue Yang; he would return and say, he's alive, he's not building an array. He would only shrug when Xiao Xingchen asked if he was warm enough, if he was eating.

He was afraid to confront Xue Yang again, in case he made it worse again, in case Xue Yang made it worse, in case he drove Xue Yang further away, in case he provoked Xue Yang's rage against him, or worse, Song Lan. And it angered him that he was afraid.

After breakfast each morning, they would walk out, and Song Lan would lead them up through the rocks to inspect some feeding ground. There always seemed to be a fresh kill there; he might have thought it one of the graveyards if they weren't so obviously fed upon by larger beasts than the lizard-birds that scattered away when they approached. Egg season had started, fortunately, because neither of them were skilled at catching the lizard-birds or fish.

"Do you remember," Xiao Xingchen said, and Song Lan looked at him. "When you said that you'd expected Xue Yang not to hurt you, and how foolish of you that was?"

"It was," Song Lan said, and shrugged. "Well, he didn't hurt us. Physically. We were foolish but not actually wrong."

"I'd started to think he wouldn't... be Xue Yang, I suppose." Xingchen shook his head. "That was foolish."

"It was," Song Lan said, so promptly Xiao Xingchen winced a little. They had come to the edge of the basin, and Xiao Xingchen felt that familiar uplift of his heart as he looked at the vast, distant shapes of the great dragonlike beasts. Such strange and miraculous creatures. It was a beautiful world, for all it was harsh and hostile to them. A lesson, perhaps, on how small they were, against the size and duration of the world.

"Spare my feelings, won't you," he said, and Song Lan smiled at him. "I just - I wanted so badly for him to be - better."

"That's not foolish. And it's not even wrong. He is better. But he's still Xue Yang. He's spent most of his life killing for fun, vengeance and research. He's not going to become a completely different person in a few months."

"Is that why you're not upset?" Xiao Xingchen picked at an orange smear on a tree, which turned out to be some kind of lichen. It lodged under his fingernails, and left a stain like tobacco when he scraped it out.

"I'm not not upset," Song Lan said. "But I'm not surprised, either."

"Do you think people can change?"

"Of course I do," Song Lan said, unhesitating. "Haven't I changed? Haven't you changed? Isn't the entire point of cultivation to for us to become better, stronger?"

"I don't think I've done that," Xiao Xingchen said, and Song Lan's hand touched his elbow for a second. Xiao Xingchen refrained from leaning into the touch; he missed Xue Yang's handsiness.

"We know the answers to far fewer questions now," he said, "And many great scholars would say that is a sign of increased wisdom."

That was very probably true, but it was no comfort at all. He looked at Song Lan's profile, turned up to the sunlight. His eyes were almost closed, his expression serene.

"You think Xue Yang can change," Xiao Xingchen said, almost sure of Song Lan's reply.

"He has. You know that. He'll change more, I expect, but it could take years - decades - before he acts well out of his own will, rather than to follow ours." Song Lan turned to him, his gaze steady, sweet. "Xiao Xingchen, even if he tells us today he'll let the Chang clan live, he won't be doing it because he's seen the wisdom of forgiveness, or the value of human life. It'll be because he's decided it's worth the trade for your affection."

"That's no good," Xiao Xingchen said, and Song Lan shrugged.

"It's better," he said. "If you had asked me once whether Xue Yang was capable of love, of restraining his violence, of risking his life for another, I would have said no every time, and I would have been wrong. He's changed, whether he likes it or not."

"I'm not sure he does like it. And I don't think he wants to change any more."

"I don't know. Do you still care about him?"

"Yes." Xiao Xingchen didn't even have to think about it; his heart was still engaged, aching as it was. Could you learn not to love someone? He'd never tried. The pain of loving Song Lan when he was gone had felt like a fitting punishment, but this seemed unfair, like most of Xue Yang's effects.

"Then I think Xue Yang will come round in time." He paused, and said, "He goes out before dawn every morning to kill one of the tree-eaters and feed it to the lizard pack. If you wanted to catch him."

"He - why?"

"I don't know. Maybe he thinks if they're fed they won't go hunting for more difficult prey?"

"Or he's decided to train a pack of hunting lizards," Xiao Xingchen said, and sighed. It could be anything, really. Xue Yang was unpredictable; it was what made him so dangerous.

But if he were predictable, he certainly wouldn't be Xue Yang. Xiao Xingchen pinched the bridge of his nose. Xue Yang hadn't killed anyone for two years or so in Yi City, and for all his lack of name, he'd still been the clever, irrepressible, charming man who was easy to care for.

"What do you think we should do?" he said.

"The dao teaches there are many daos," Song Lan said. "If Xue Yang is willing to stay here, still, I'm happy to stay here. With him and you. Without expectation that he'll be better."

"Is that enough?"

"It's enough for me," Song Lan said. "He's unwilling to hurt you, or me. We're the only people in the world. It seems quite suitable, really." His mouth curved, small. Did Song Lan used to make jokes? Xiao Xingchen wasn't sure if he'd only recently begun to notice, or if Song Lan had developed the habit.

"He might never be... fixed."

"Then we'll stay here forever," Song Lan said. "Which would be the same result as if we decided now he could never be fixed and didn't try."

"You won't be - " Xiao Xingchen shook his head, "I would be disappointed. If he were never - " He bit his lip. "I want him to be a person I don't feel bad about loving," he admitted. "Selfish, isn't it?"

"You shouldn't feel bad about loving him," Song Lan said. From a philosophical point of view, it was true enough; love was a great virtue, and to extend it to those who might be considered unlovable was an act of great compassion.

But it wasn't a virtuous act on Xiao Xingchen's part; it was nothing he had any say in. He loved whether he wanted to or not.

Song Lan just smiled at him when he said that. "The purpose of cultivation is to become people who act instinctively in accordance with the dao," he said, "So our natures are in alignment with what should be, without our even needing to think about it."

"It's not as if I love everyone who is low and terrible," Xiao Xingchen said sourly, and Song Lan gave a minute shrug.

"But you do have compassion for them, I think. And that's what allows you to love him."

"I haven't been very compassionate to him lately."

"Still not perfect," Song Lan said, and Xiao Xingchen jabbed an elbow at him, avoiding contact but making the point. "There's plenty of time for you, too. I don't think he's going anywhere. Take your time. He made an obscene gesture at me yesterday. Which is an improvement over refusing to look at me."

"I should be better than this."

"But you're not," Song Lan said. "That's all right."

Xiao Xingchen pursed his lips, annoyed. Then he laughed. "You're right, of course."

"I hope it helps," Song Lan said.

"You're sure about this," Xiao Xingchen said, and Song Lan smiled at him. "You're happy? I know, I should trust you, I just - want to hear it again."

"Ask me as often as you like," Song Lan said. "Just don't shut me out." His hand brushed lightly over Xiao Xingchen's arm. "You know, I thought for years I would never be happy again. Wandering alone, and then being Xue Yang's puppet. There was nothing but grief and pain and regret for me. For a long while, I thought I wouldn't even be allowed to die. But here I am. I'm alive. You've forgiven me - hush - and we love each other. And I don't - " he shook his head. "I can't say if Xue Yang is a good thing or a bad thing, but I feel... better. I don't say things wouldn't have been better if I could have killed him in Yi City, but... I'm happy with him alive. Perhaps it's not worth what it cost, to bring us here, now, but I know if he died now, it would grieve me, and not just for the hurt it would cause you."

"It's hardly fair," Xiao Xingchen said, "To place such a burden on you."

"On us," Song Lan said. "Well, few things in life are fair, are they? I don't know anyone who hasn't been wronged in some way. And, well. We did, once, agree that we would take on the burdens of others, and help those whose pleas fell on deaf ears."

"Even now, I wouldn't let Xue Yang hear you describe him as pleading," Xiao Xingchen said, and watched the faint smile flit across Song Lan's face. Terrible, that they could joke about it.

He paused, and said, "The Chang clan - "

Xiao Xingchen sighed.

"Why does he have such a grudge against Chang Ci'an, anyway?"

"Didn't he ever tell you?" Xiao Xingchen said, and Song Lan shook his head.

"I could ask him, I suppose, but - " and Xiao Xingchen said, "No!" a little too fast.

He didn't think that Xue Yang would strike out physically, but - well. Xue Yang was exquisitely sensitive on that topic.

"I can tell you," he said. "He told me - we were upset at the time, but - " Upset was one way of putting it. He could remember how fast Xue Yang had been breathing, the shudder in his voice. If Xiao Xingchen hadn't been having his own terrible, awful time, would he have -

"Tell me," Song Lan said, and his fingertips brushed Xiao Xingchen's arm again. "Did they catch him committing a crime?"

"Oh, he - it wasn't even on purpose - it's a sad story, really. Chang Ci'an was the last sect leader, and he gave Xue Yang a job to do, but it was a trick, and then he was beaten, and then Chang Ci'an beat him, and ran over his hand with his cart... his hand was badly damaged, and the finger lost entirely."

"Well, that's terrible behaviour," Song Lan said, frowning, and then, "How did Chang Ci'an manage to beat Xue Yang? He must have been a powerful cultivator."

"No, you don't understand," Xiao Xingchen said. "It was before he had a golden core - he was just a street child. Seven, he said. I suppose Chang Ci'an saw an easy target - "

"Seven?" Song Lan said, his voice sharpening. "Seven years old and a cultivator cut off his finger?"

"It doesn't justify what he did!" Xiao Xingchen flared out, and Song Lan shook his head.

"Of course it doesn't," he agreed, and Xiao Xingchen subsided, flushing. Of course, Song Lan wouldn't think that. "I know that, but - how did Xue Yang even survive that? He told me he never had anyone caring for him."

"No, he just kept living on the streets, I think," Xiao Xingchen said. "I suppose he was just... lucky." He looked at Song Lan's face, the deep frown, and said, "It still doesn't - "

"Justify it, I know," Song Lan said. "I know. Don't think for a second I excuse Xue Yang's murder of innocent people who didn't even do anything to him. I just..." he hesitated. Shrugged. "I suppose I thought Xue Yang was born broken. Not that someone broke him."

Xiao Xingchen took a deep, shaky breath, and then another. Song Lan's face was so dear and familiar, making that expression of intense concern. He'd always loved Song Lan's carefully considered compassion. Compassion had always been something that happened to Xiao Xingchen, welling up as easily as his qi; for Song Lan, it was something he chose, again and again.

"We can't do anything about it now," Xiao Xingchen said, and Song Lan nodded. "He's had his revenge, and he won't undo it, and I can't live with it."

Song Lan, very carefully, tugged on his sleeve, and Xiao Xingchen leaned against his shoulder, and closed his eyes. Song Lan was stiff and awkward, but he put his arms around Xiao Xingchen, and Xiao Xingchen buried his face in Song Lan's shoulder. It was nice. He'd really only been hugged like this by Xue Yang, before; A-Qing was smaller and slighter and fluttering away when he tried to hug her back. The thought made him ache; even now, he wanted to feel Xue Yang's hands in his hair, his teasing voice trying to coax out a laugh.

"The thing I loved most about you, right from the start, was how kind you are," Song Lan said, quietly. "It doesn't surprised me you were kind to Xue Yang. I know that you only pursued him in the first place because he'd killed, and you were worried for those he might kill in the future. Everything you do is because you care about people, more than anyone I've ever met."

"I don't deserve that," Xiao Xingchen said, into the soft dark cloth. "But I'm glad of it anyway."

Song Lan said, "The three years I spent without you were the worst in my life. I had no one. Not you, not my shifu, not anyone I'd grown up with. There was no one in the world I could turn to. I wandered, searching for you, longing for you. It was painful, so painful. I cannot imagine living my whole life without love. When I was hurt, I was given healing. When I was orphaned, I was taken into a new family. I was never hungry, I didn't sleep on the streets, and if anyone had hurt me like Chang Ci'an had - " he shook his head. "Well, my parents were peasants, so perhaps there would have been no recourse for them, either. But they would have tried. Where would I have been without people reaching out to me? So I'll never blame you for reaching out to help someone in need, Xiao Xingchen. Never."

Xiao Xingchen made a miserable, choked sound, and then said, "I've failed at that, too." Song Lan patted his head, cautiously, and Xiao Xingchen's mouth, almost against his will, turned up into a smile. "I hurt Xue Yang," he said, and admitting it made something ease in his chest. Xue Yang had caused so many hurts in revenge for his own, but that didn't make his wounds less real.

"Xue Yang hurt you," Song Lan said. "These things… do happen." He patted Xiao Xingchen's head again. "It's not the end of the world," he said.

"No," Xiao Xingchen agreed. He thought of Xue Yang, seven years old, the world ending.

He wished his little friend had told him earlier. He wished that just once, Xue Yang could have felt as though someone cared for that wounded child.

Would it even do any good, now? He didn't want to believe it was too late for kindness to make a difference in anyone's life.

"You think Xue Yang can change," he said again, because he trusted Song Lan more than he trusted himself and his unreasonable heart, that was already longing to reach out again to a fire that had burnt him again and again.

"I do," Song Lan said. "And I think that even if he can't, your compassion is never wasted."

*

That evening, Song Lan went to find Xue Yang. He was still in his cave, staring at nothing. Song Lan touched his fingers to the perimeter, and Xue Yang looked up sharply at the chime. Then he looked away. The array was still just rocks and grooves in the sand.

"Can I come in?" Song Lan said. Xue Yang shrugged, which wasn't a no. Song Lan considered him, and then he passed through the perimeter, and sat down next to Xue Yang, and put his arm around Xue Yang, gathering him close as if they going to sleep. Xue Yang tensed, but then he leaned his weight into Song Lan. Song Lan rubbed his shoulder, and felt him relax.

"Xiao Xingchen told me about your finger," he said, and the tension slammed back into Xue Yang. Song Lan kept stroking him, said, "I'm sorry that happened to you."

"That helps," Xue Yang said. He relaxed more slowly, this time, but he did it, going loose under Song Lan's touch. "Are you going to let me kill some people for revenge?"

"No." He rested his other hand on Xue Yang's knee, and Xue Yang turned into him and slid his arms around Song Lan's waist. "I'm sorry that happened but no, I won't let you kill people over it. It's not like you even got Chang Ci'an."

"He died too early, that fucker," Xue Yang said. "It doesn't matter. Him, his whole family, his clan. Nothing can make up for it." He paused, and said, "Aren't you going to tell me it's the same as what I did to you? That I can never make up for it?"

"You can't," Song Lan said. "You know that."

"I hated you then. I don't hate you now. Why should I feel bad about what I did then?" Xue Yang growled against his throat. Song Lan could feel his teeth, pressing in against soft flesh. It should worry him more. He rubbed the back of Xue Yang's neck, and Xue Yang said, "That's unreasonable." He lifted his head, and glared. "You don't feel bad about sending me to execution."

"Is this really the time to talk about the difference between justice and vengeance?"

"It's just how many people you can get to agree with you," Xue Yang said. "I worked for the Chief Cultivator, remember? You should have seen his justice. I didn't get justice against Chang Ci'an; why shouldn't I take vengeance? I deserved it."

Song Lan sighed, and said, "You do have a point," and Xue Yang pulled free of his grip. Song Lan tensed, but Xue Yang was just staring at him, wariness in his gaze. Song Lan reached out and linked their hands together, and Xue Yang let him, looking down at their tangled fingers. His left hand, Song Lan realised, whole and strong.

"Do I?" he said.

"You deserved justice, not vengeance, but - " Song Lan shook his head. "You didn't get that. You deserved people who cared about you, and you didn't deserve to be hurt. If Chang Ci'an had been one-tenth the man he pretended to be he would have seen a little child in need and helped them. It would have been nothing to him; he cheated you and he hurt you because he was a terrible person."

"I deserved justice," Xue Yang repeated, and he put his hand on Song Lan's chin, tilting it up so he could stare into his eyes.

"Of course you did," Song Lan said. "Not the whole clan dead, but Chang Ci'an and whoever else hurt you should have been held to account, and someone should have taken care of you when you were small and helpless, just like they did for me. I wish someone had helped you. I wish I could have helped you."

Xue Yang kissed him, biting down on his lip painfully hard, fingers digging in. Song Lan lifted his hands, hesitated, then set them on Xue Yang's waist, and Xue Yang made a low, urgent noise and crowded closer, pushing onto his knees. Song Lan gently pried Xue Yang's hand away from his face and moved it to his shoulder, and Xue Yang dug in there instead. His left hand was clutching Song Lan's hand with painful force, but his mouth was moving hot and slow over Song Lan's, and Song Lan wanted -

"Hey, let me suck your dick," Xue Yang muttered into his mouth, and let go of Song Lan's shoulder to tug on his belt. Heat rolled down Song Lan from his scalp to his belly, and he grabbed Xue Yang's wrist.

"No," he said, because it was already far too much, his neck prickling with heat and his nerves unsteady. Xue Yang pulled away and frowned at him, and Song Lan said, "Kiss me again," and pressed an insistent hand to the back of his neck, and Xue Yang's frown smoothed away.

"I'm good at it," he said, but he let Song Lan kiss him. He shoved his tongue into Song Lan's mouth, and Song Lan was inexorably reminded of the strange day when he was still getting used to his own tongue crowding his mouth.

Xue Yang's mouth tasted of nothing but warmth and water, and Song Lan kissed him back, touched his tongue over the sharp edges of his teeth, his pointed canines. Xue Yang caught his tongue between his teeth, and squeezed tight enough to make Song Lan's nerves flutter; then he shook with muffled laughter, and let it go.

"Not funny," Song Lan mumbled, and put one hand between Xue Yang's shoulderblades and the other at his hip, and tipped them both onto the sandy ground, covering Xue Yang with his body. Xue Yang made a pleased noise, and wrapped his legs round Song Lan's hips, holding on tight.

He felt so strange pinned under Song Lan; alive, moving, his chest heaving in breaths, his back arching. Song Lan wanted to hold him in cupped hands like a trapped moth. He fitted his hands over the round bones of his shoulders, the narrow curve of his waist. Touched his fingers to Xue Yang's throat to feel his pulse hammering. Xue Yang clutched at him as though he might try and escape, burrowing into him with his fingers and teeth.

Song Lan lifted his head, and Xue Yang fastened his mouth on Song Lan's throat, and Song Lan said, "No, stop, it's almost dark," and then had to peel him off and hold him down by the wrists. Xue Yang scowled at him, and turned his head away; Song Lan kissed his cheek, and Xue Yang turned back at once, nuzzling against him.

"Come back to the cave, please. I don't like you all alone out here."

"Fuck off then, I'm not going back."

"Yes, you are," Song Lan said, and scrambled up onto his knees, pulled him upright. Xue Yang went limp in his grip, and Song Lan sighed. "It's not like you're heavy. Come on, Yang'er."

"Ugh, stop calling me that," Xue Yang said, but he got his feet under him when Song Lan got up, and butted his head against Song Lan's chest. "Xiao Xingchen -" he stopped.

"Come on, come back," Song Lan said. "Try not to say anything actively horrible, and he'll try too."

"You never think the things he says are hurtful," Xue Yang said. "You agree with them."

"Murder is bad," Song Lan said, and when Xue Yang bit his neck, added, "Yang'er," and Xue Yang actually laughed, though it came out weak and straggling. He made a face.

"That's going to stop working," he warned, and Song Lan shrugged, and looped an arm around his waist to pull him down the slope, towards their cave.

The fire was burning low; Xiao Xingchen lay on one of the beds, hair spilling around him. His eyes were still bruised looking from earlier tears. Xue Yang touched his cheek and looked faintly guilty; he said, "I didn't mean - fuck, it's not my fault."

Song Lan's heart gave a painful thud at the sight, a welcome reminder that he was alive. How often had he stood, silent, while Xue Yang looked at Xiao Xingchen's body with despair?

But it was different, now. Song Lan took hold of Xiao Xingchen's hand and rubbed the palm, and Xiao Xingchen blinked his eyes open and looked up at them for a moment, sweet and puzzled. The little lizard was curled up under his chin, in defiance of Song Lan's rule about pets in the bed.

"Oh, you're all right," he said in tones of intense relief, and looked at Xue Yang, open doubt in his eyes.

"Let's not fight now," Song Lan said.

"I just - " Xue Yang began, and Song Lan lifted him off the ground and dumped him beside Xiao Xingchen, earning a sleepy chirp from the lizard, which turned its head and nosed at Xue Yang's face. "Fuck off, Song Lan."

"Get some sleep, both of you," he said. "I'll wake someone in a few hours. Maybe in the morning you can argue without hurting each other."

Xiao Xingchen looked appropriately chastened, and Xue Yang rolled his eyes. But he tucked his head into Xiao Xingchen's shoulder, and Xiao Xingchen held him close, hand smoothing down his rumpled hair.

Song Lan sat, and meditated, and tried not to dwell on the memory of Xue Yang's mouth. It hadn't been the first kiss of Song Lan's life - there had been a little experimentation with another boy at the temple, and when he was fifteen there had been a rogue cultivator who was very pretty and had left him with the conviction he preferred boys.

Xue Yang was not remotely like the careful kisses he'd exchanged then. He wondered how Xue Yang's messy, sharp-edged smile would feel around his dick, and shuddered with nerves and disgust and anticipation. Wondered if Xue Yang would go pliant and co-operative so easily, if Song Lan stroked his hair and pushed his dick between those soft, cruel lips.

It was very difficult to meditate, having thoughts like those. He shifted his position, and sent his thoughts down another path. Xue Yang, going from cheerful to wounded to pliant to furious, his moods changing faster than the weather. No restraint in him at all, no discipline. Song Lan could not imagine living that way, like the heart of a swordfight where thought became action instantly, because hesitation killed.

No, no restfulness there, either. It would be a long night.

Xue Yang slipped out before dawn again, but he came back this time clean and a little damp from washing, and laid his forage out on the stones. Song Lan would admit it was a relief not to have to go hunting. Xue Yang really was as useful as he claimed.

But he left without eating, and stayed out all day; he wasn't at the other cave when Song Lan checked. He didn't reappear until dusk, and then he sat against the cave wall instead of joining them at the fire.

Xiao Xingchen gave Song Lan a questioning look, and Song Lan shrugged. He was fairly sure he was back on good terms with Xue Yang, but he wasn't entirely sure about Xiao Xingchen. Take your time, he'd said, but Xiao Xingchen seemed equally confused. A Xue Yang who simply refused to do anything was strange and daunting.

Less trouble, certainly. And yet.

Finally, Xiao Xingchen rose, and went to sit by Xue Yang, who eyed him suspiciously. Xiao Xingchen said, "I hurt you - "

"Well, that works out, doesn't it," Xue Yang said. Xiao Xingchen pursed his lips. "Isn't hurting each other what justice is all about?"

That was certainly a way of putting it. Song Lan gave up on pretending not to notice, and went to sit on Xue Yang's other side, pressed against him from shoulder to hip.

"Yang'er," he said, and got a grumble, but not an outright rejection. "It's not so bad here, is it? We can stay."

Xue Yang lifted his face, the paleness gone to a shiny flush. His eyes were hard. "It's been all right," he allowed. "But it's different now, right? Because I won't - "

"No," Xiao Xingchen said. "We're going to stay and it will be like it was, if you want it."

Xue Yang eyed him, looking doubtful. "Even though -"

"Yes."

"I don't understand the logic," Xue Yang said. "The Chang clan are dead whether we stay or go. But if we go, we can stop a lot of people dying. It seems simple to me."

It was difficult to argue with. Song Lan might have tried, but Xue Yang was sharp enough to tear apart any arguments, and the truth was simply that Xue Yang was dangerous, and they didn't trust him, which would likely not go down well.

Xiao Xingchen began to work out the tangles in Xue Yang's hair with his fingers, and said, "Do you need to understand it?"

Xue Yang's nose wrinkled. He said, "I want to."

"You might, in time. But do you need to now? Will it make it impossible for you to stay here with us?"

Xue Yang leaned his head back against Song Lan's shoulder, and watched Xiao Xingchen for a long minute. Song Lan wondered what he saw, when he looked. Xiao Xingchen's eyes were focused somewhere around Song Lan's knees while he smoothed Xue Yang's hair by touch. His eyelashes quivered.

"No," Xue Yang said at last, "Not if - " he shrugged, and leaned into Xiao Xingchen's touch, knocking their brows together, calling back his bright-eyed gaze. "You don't hate me? You don't have to - I get it, you can't forgive me, just don't hate me - "

"I care about you a great deal, Yang'er," Xiao Xingchen said. "As much as anyone in my life. That's why you can hurt me so badly. And because I was hurt, I - I hurt you in return."

Xue Yang blinked at him, and Song Lan saw comprehension dawn on his face. "Oh," he said, and his mouth curved in a soft, disbelieving smile "I thought you hated me."

"I was hurt and angry and so I made it worse," Xiao Xingchen said. His mouth twisted, not quite a smile. "I'm sure you understand."

Xue Yang managed something like his usual giggle, and he let Xiao Xingchen hug him close, kiss his forehead.

Will you come and eat?" Xiao Xingchen said, and Xue Yang grimaced, but came and sat on his usual rock, and ate eggs fried in the oily remnants of fish. Some colour came back to his face, but he was still quiet, lacking his usual animation.

Song Lan just shrugged when Xiao Xingchen looked at him. Well, it was a start. Xue Yang sat up with Xiao Xingchen on watch, winding cord in silence, and though he slept in the other bed, he got out of it in the morning and shook his robes into order and combed his fingers through his hair, and said, in a reasonable attempt at his usual tone, "I was thinking that we should start testing eggs to see how long they'll keep for, then in late autumn we can collect a shitload to keep into winter."

That wasn't the end of it, of course; Xue Yang itched at it like a burr under his saddle.

"I just don't understand," he said one day, too early to be arguing, "Why Xiao Xingchen cares more about the fucking Chang clan than he does about me."

"That's not the - " Xiao Xingchen started.

"He doesn't," Song Lan said, refraining from a lengthy sigh. He could definitely have slept longer, but Xue Yang was wiggling about with the force of his emotions. Song Lan leaned on him, partly to still him and partly to not get tipped out of the narrow bed.

"Of course I don't, but that's not the point - "

"Yes, it is!" Xue Yang said. He shifted like he was going to get out of bed; Song Lan put a hand on the back of his neck, and Xue Yang made a low grumbling noise but subsided. Song Lan propped himself up on his elbow, shivering at the slice of cold air against his skin. The two of them were tangled close together even as they glared at each other, soft and shadowy in the low firelight.

"I don't care about the Chang clan," Xiao Xingchen said, speaking almost into Xue Yang's mouth. "It's you. I don't want you to be a mass murderer, even of people I hate! Chang Ci'an was an awful, awful person and if you'd just killed him, well - "

"I wanted to," Xue Yang said, "Maybe if I'd been able to - "

"No," Xiao Xingchen said, and Xue Yang eyed him, suspicious. "You said yourself fifty lives couldn't make up for it. Nothing makes up for it. Having my eyes back doesn't, Song Lan having his tongue back doesn't, killing you wouldn't heal it either, Xue Yang, none of it is going to work. I don't say Chang Ci'an didn't deserve to be killed. But it won't fix what happened to you. It'll always be with you."

Xue Yang stared at him for a long moment; some unknown emotion flexed his mouth, and then he said, "You can never forgive me."

Xiao Xingchen shook his head. "I don't know. I love you, though. Is that enough?"

"I don't know," Xue Yang said. "It doesn't seem to have stopped any of the awful shit that's happened so far."

"I suppose we'll find out, as no one's going anywhere," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang giggled. Then he leaned in and kissed Xiao Xingchen, light and quick. Song Lan put his hand carefully on Xue Yang's hip, just to… be there.

"All right, all right," Xue Yang muttered. Then he said, "But I don't care about anyone else's feelings - "

"A-Qing," Xiao Xingchen said.

"Apart from A-Qing. No more, fuck them all. You can't expect me to care about people I don't even know."

"You don't have to care," Song Lan said. "Just don't murder them."

"Demanding," Xue Yang said. "Okay, well." He fell silent. Song Lan lay down again, and closed his eyes.

There was a soft sound; then a gasp, and a wetter noise. Xue Yang was kissing Xiao Xingchen again, and Song Lan didn't need to look to confirm that. He pushed up again anyway to see Xue Yang pressing swift kisses to Xiao Xingchen's face while Xiao Xingchen pawed at him, trying to hold him still.

"Xue Yang," he said, a giggle in his voice, "Come here."

Xue Yang laughed and kissed the tip of his noise, and then Xiao Xingchen jerked back, and looked up. His gaze met Song Lan's, and Song Lan honestly wasn't sure who was more embarrassed.

"It's fine, Song Lan doesn't mind," Xue Yang said. It was true, of course, but Xue Yang didn't need to just... say it. Xue Yang nuzzled at Xiao Xingchen's throat, and said, "Maybe he wants to join us?"

"Xue Yang," Xiao Xingchen hissed, and tried to hide his face in Xue Yang's hair.

"I know he's got touching issues but he can watch, right?" Xue Yang said.

Xiao Xingchen pulled his face out of Xue Yang's hair and said, "Are you going to touch me, then?" and Xue Yang gaze skittered away.

"I'm touching you now, aren't I?" Xue Yang said, and Xiao Xingchen made an exasperated noise. "Aren't you a daoist, anyway? Song Lan won't let me touch his dick, so -"

Xiao Xinghen's eyebrows shot up. He looked at Song Lan, who sincerely hoped the firelight hid the depths of his blush. Xiao Xingchen looked between the two of them, and then said, "What does he let you do?"

Xue Yang giggled, and said, "Do you like to watch, Xiao Xingchen?"

Xiao Xingchen looked up at Song Lan again, and his lower lip slipped between his teeth for a second. Xue Yang said, "Come here, Song-daozhang."

"Don't call me that if you want me to -" Song Lan said, and he couldn't finish the sentence, but he put his hand on Xue Yang's shoulder and tipped him onto his back, Xiao Xingchen's arms loosening around him. They both looked at him, dark eyes lit by sparks from the fire, and desire coiled tight in Song Lan's belly, pulling away all his words. He looked at them, and Xue Yang put his hand up and stroked Song Lan's cheek.

"Song Lan?" he offered, and Song Lan wrinkled his nose. That was what Xue Yang used to call him, when -

"Zichen, please," he said, and Xue Yang smiled at him.

"Come here, Zichen," he said. "Xiao Xingchen wants to see."

Song Lan let Xue Yang pull him down, hand fisting tight in his hair, and nudge his mouth open, bite at his lip. Song Lan's hands shook, and he curled them in his sleeves. He could hear Xiao Xingchen's breathing; knew if he opened his eyes, he'd see those spark-filled eyes fixed on him. Xue Yang's fingertips brushed over his throat, guided him to tilt his head so he could slide his tongue into Song Lan's mouth, deep and wet, so intimate Song Lan's gut clenched. His scalp prickled as Xue Yang gripped tighter, not quite pain.

Finally Xue Yang eased away from him, and Song Lan opened his eyes enough to see Xue Yang's face for a second, all heavy eyes and curling smile, before Xiao Xingchen leaned in and covered that smile with his own mouth. Xiao Xingchen's hair fell in a curtain, and before Song Lan could make up his mind to touch it, Xue Yang gathered it up and threw it back over his shoulder, so Song Lan could see the angle of Xiao Xingchen's cheekbone, the spread of his mouth, the way his lashes fluttered again his cheek.

Xiao Xingchen had always been beautiful, of course, but seeing him like this made Song Lan hot and prickly in his robes. He wanted -impossible things, probably, or at least impossible for the Song Lan that he was. A more assured Song Lan, who could touch and take, might find more things possible for him.

When they broke the kiss, they both looked towards him; another Song Lan might have kissed Xiao Xingchen, but instead he lay still with his hands curled tightly into the fabric of the sleeves and stared at them, silent.

"So," Xue Yang said, "Are you going to let me suck your dick now?"

"No," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang laughed.

"You can suck mine," Xiao Xingchen said. "I don't know why you haven't already. I would have let you. For years."

Xue Yang groaned, and turned his head aside. Xiao Xingchen nuzzled his cheek, and said, "Why not?"

"I don't know how - " Xue Yang said, and shot Song Lan a sheepish look.

"I thought you said you were good at it," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang sighed.

"I am. But I'm not good at being... nice about it." Xue Yang trailed his fingers down over Xiao Xingchen's cheek, and Song Lan remembered the way they'd clawed at his skin, pulled at his hair. His mouth, not tender but ravenous.

He looked at Xiao Xingchen, all pale, untouched skin, a faint frown on his perfect face. Between the two of them, they'd marked and stained him so badly.

"You would have realised... I'm not..." Xue Yang said, not looking at either of them now, head tipped back to stare at the cave roof. His throat flexed as he swallowed.

"We know," Xiao Xingchen said, gentle, sharp. Xue Yang winced. Song Lan felt like wincing, too. Instead he forced his hands to uncurl, and put them on Xue Yang, earning himself a wary glance. Xue Yang went easily when Song Lan tipped him onto his side, though. Didn't resist when Song Lan lay close behind him, put an arm under his neck and the other over his waist.

When Song Lan gathered up his wrists and held them, Xue Yang's head turned towards him again, eyes bright and alert.

Song Lan looked at Xiao Xingchen, still warm and flushed from sleep, his robes and hair disordered. He looked like one of the suggestive pictures in the books that the temple librarian guarded with particular care. Song Lan would have given anything to be able to touch him as simply as he touched Xue Yang. He looked at Song Lan with warmth, with bright interest, with invitation.

"You touch him," Song Lan said to Xiao Xingchen. "I'll make sure he's nice."

Xue Yang giggled, and his arms went slack in Song Lan's grip. "Will you, now?" he said. Xiao Xingchen smiled, luminous.

"Maybe between us we can manage it," he said to Xue Yang, and leaned in to kiss him. His hair, loose and tumbled, fell over Song Lan's hands; not too much, Song Lan decided after a second, Xue Yang's hair was everywhere and it wasn't much different, and neither was the smooth linen of Xiao Xingchen's robes.

They looked so lovely like this; all the sharp edges gone from Xue Yang, made into soft shadows and curves, the arches of his cheekbones and nose pressed against the angles of Xiao Xingchen. He squirmed a little in Song Lan's grip, tugging very lightly, and Song Lan secured his grip. Xiao Xingchen put a firm hand on Xue Yang's hip, and murmured, "Be nice, Yang'er," in a tone full of amusement. He smiled against Xue Yang's lips, and Xue Yang smiled too.

"Maybe," Xue Yang said, and then he caught Xiao Xingchen's lower lip between his teeth and tugged on it. Song Lan wasn't entirely sure how to meet that challenge, but he thought Xue Yang might be flexible. He leaned in and bit the lobe of Xue Yang's ear, firmly enough to make him shudder, and Xue Yang softened his mouth, used his lips instead of his teeth on Xiao Xingchen. Xiao Xingchen let out a breathy moan, and then pulled back. He tried to nuzzle under Xue Yang's chin; Xue Yang tried to catch his mouth again. Xiao Xingchen laughed, and said, "Zichen, would you - "

Song Lan found he could just about wrap both of Xue Yang's bony wrists in one hand; it wouldn't stand up to a determined struggle, but Xue Yang just flexed his wrists experimentally and then settled into it as Song Lan put his hand around Xue Yang's throat. The pulse beat against his palm, breathing fast but steady, the golden flow of qi all held in his hand. He pressed gently upwards, felt Xue Yang swallow, and then he surrendered, arching back against Song Lan, throat bared to Xiao Xingchen's mouth.

"Can I - " Xiao Xingchen said, and then more firmly, "I'm going to leave marks."

Xue Yang let out a shaky breath that edged on a giggle, and deepened the arch of his spine, all of him offered up easy and trusting. Xiao Xingchen pressed his mouth against Xue Yang's neck, over the pulse, and Xue Yang went so still and quiet that the noise of Xiao Xingchen's mouth, the wet sucking sound, was clearly audible.

Song Lan's mouth was still on Xue Yang's ear; they were all so close he could count Xiao Xingchen's eyelashes, see the delicate flush over his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. As if feeling the weight of his stare, Xiao Xingchen's eyes fluttered open, and he met Song Lan's gaze.

It was tempting to look away, hide his face in Xue Yang's hair; but if touch and words both failed him, surely he could at least do this. He watched, and Xiao Xingchen scraped the edge of his teeth along Xue Yang's skin, and he tensed in Song Lan's arms and moaned. The mark on his throat was deep red; it would bruise, and he had no doubt Xue Yang would wear it with obnoxious pleasure.

He used the hand on Xue Yang's throat to turn his head, and fastened his own mouth over his, rough and demanding. Xue Yang moaned louder, and writhed almost hard enough to break free; Song Lan squeezed him tighter, and he stilled. It was strange, to demand things from Xue Yang. Stranger still to have them given so easily.

There was the rustling of fabric, Xiao Xingchen's hands moving carefully around Song Lan's arm, his soft voice asking Zichen, if you would - and between kisses and bites they got Xue Yang stripped out of his clothes; he didn't co-operate, exactly, but his resistance was punctuated by laughter, and he returned the kisses eagerly whether they came from Xiao Xingchen or Song Lan. Song Lan lay behind him, held him with one arm banded over his hips, the other containing his arms, and Xue Yang braced himself and pressed back instead of forward, his skinny ass pushing into the cradle of Song Lan's hips. Song Lan gasped, and hid his face in Xue Yang's hair. With the layers of his own robes still between him, the pressure was diffuse, good, not too much, and he wanted -

Only the thought of the sticky aftermath kept him from holding Xue Yang still and grinding his way to completion against him. Xue Yang would like it; he thought Xiao Xingchen would like to see it.

Maybe sometime. Now, he heard the sounds of the fire hissing, and looked up to see Xiao Xingchen coming back from building it up, lit up golden in his pale inner clothes, the shape and shades of him visible through the thin linen. Song Lan stared, struck dumb; and Xue Yang said, "Come here, daozhang. Xingchen," and gave a restless little twist, pressing into Song Lan again, making him groan. Xiao Xingchen's gaze flicked to him, and his mouth curved in a soft, devastating smile.

"Do you like it?" he said, and before Song Lan could even begin the struggle for words, he looked at Xue Yang and said, "Does he?"

"His dick sure does," Xue Yang said. "Who wouldn't? Come here." He wriggled. Song Lan held him close. Xiao Xingchen smiled, and settled in the narrow space left for him. He put his hand on Xue Yang's belly, and scraped his nails there. Xue Yang hitched in a breath, muscles tightening, and Xiao Xingchen petted the trail of dark hair under his navel, hesitated just above Song Lan's arm. Song Lan shifted his grip so Xiao Xingchen could continue, and Xue Yang moaned as those slim fingers traced the root of his dick.

"That feels good," Xue Yang said, and he rolled his hips, back into Song Lan, then trying to nudge up into Xiao Xingchen's hand. Song Lan held him steady, and Xiao Xingchen braced a hand against his thigh.

"Hold still for me," he said, sounding absolutely delighted. "I have to figure this out for myself, you know, since you wouldn't tell me."

Xue Yang laughed, and then moaned, and then said, "Daozhang, I didn't think you'd be a tease."

"Neither did I," Xiao Xingchen said. Softer, "I can't say any of this is anything like I pictured."

His gaze caught on Song Lan's again, and there was the strangest churn of feelings inside Song Lan; regret, love, resignation. What was happening now was happening, messy and imperfect and Song Lan already thought he might regret it, but right now, he didn't want to be anywhere else.

Xue Yang started to laugh, one of his loud wild laughs; he pressed his mouth against his own shoulder to try and muffle it, but it kept coming in extravagant whoops. "What," he said, after a short struggle, "What's the weirdest part, daozhang? The mass murderer? The threesome? The dragons?"

Xiao Xingchen started to giggle, too. He rested his head against Xue Yang's chest. "Oh, all of it," he said. "Well, things happen as they happen, I suppose. And here we are." He closed his fingers around Xue Yang's dick, and the laughter hiccuped into silence. Xiao Xingchen's mouth curled into a pleased smile, and he stroked Xue Yang with a grip that even Song Lan could tell was too light.

Song Lan held him still when he tried to buck into it, and pressed his mouth against Xue Yang's neck, where the bruises were blooming up.

He put his teeth against skin and Xue Yang tilted his head down; he couldn't really expose more of his neck, but he was trying, a blatant invitation. Heat rose in Song Lan's face, but he didn't resist. Put his own mark under Xue Yang's ear. Far enough from Xingchen's that he'd be able to tell, tomorrow, which were his.

The noises coming out of Xue Yang's mouth belonged to both of them, though, Xiao Xingchen's touch gaining confidence, his other hand stroking Xue Yang's belly, his balls, his thighs. Xue Yang lifted his leg and hooked it back over Song Lan's thigh, spreading himself open with an utter lack of shame. Song Lan couldn't imagine it, could barely picture being naked before the two of them without being overwhelmed by dizzying heat.

"You can - " Xue Yang let out a throaty groan as Xiao Xingchen's hand slipped down between his thighs. "Anything you want, daozhang."

Xiao Xingchen bit his lip, evidently considering his options. "I want to make you come," he decided, and Xue Yang made an agreeable noise. The colour on Xiao Xingchen's face deepened as he said, "Then - maybe your mouth?"

"Yes," Xue Yang said, low and fervent, "Yes, please - oh fuck." Xiao Xingchen was stroking him faster, tighter, and Song Lan could feel his other hand moving, and whatever he was doing made Xue Yang struggle with increasing force; not like he was trying to get away, but like he couldn't help himself.

Song Lan kissed his neck, squeezed his wrists and waist. He murmured, "Come on, that's it," in Xue Yang's ear, and Xue Yang turned his head, demanding another kiss. Song Lan gave it to him, drank the desperate noises from his lips, felt it roll through him from shoulders to hips as he came into Xiao Xingchen's hand.

He went loose and floppy, rubbed his cheek against Song Lan's robe and giggled. Song Lan felt a light-headed with his own want, settling almost like pain in his lower belly. Xiao Xingchen had lifted his head to stare at Xue Yang's face, cheeks lit with bright colour, eyes wide. Then he glanced down, and made a cute little face, lifting his hand with an air of confusion.

Xue Yang giggled again, and said, "Give it here, daozhang." Song Lan watched him lick his own seed off Xiao Xingchen's hand, unsure if the coiling tightness in his belly was disgust or arousal. It was definitely arousal when Xue Yang sucked two of Xiao Xingchen's fingers into his mouth.

Xiao Xingchen's cock looked as hard as Song Lan's felt, flushed dark pink, curved up tight to his belly. He palmed it while watching Xue Yang suck on his fingers, and Xue Yang pulled back enough to say, "Hey. Wasn't that for me?"

Xiao Xingchen smiled, eyes bright. "Was it?" he said, and Xue Yang rolled his eyes, and lapped showily at Xiao Xingchen's fingertips with his pink tongue. He nipped them, and Song Lan squeezed him.

"Watch the teeth," he said in Xue Yang's ear, and felt Xue Yang's attention turn back to him, like a blaze of heat on cool skin.

"Make me," he said, smiling, all teeth, and Song Lan cupped his hand tight under Xue Yang's chin, pressed his thumb into the soft hollow at the hinge of Xue Yang's jaw.

"Open your mouth," he said, quiet, and Xue Yang shivered. "And Xiao Xingchen will put his dick in it."

"Ah, fuck," Xue Yang sighed, and he sagged back against Song Lan and let his mouth gape open.

Xiao Xingchen shifted his weight; there was a loud creak, and he froze, and then laughed.

"If it breaks we'll fix it tomorrow," Xue Yang said. "C'mon. Give it to me." He opened his mouth again, and Xiao Xingchen settled himself, one foot on the floor, the other knee tucked against Xue Yang's chest, so Xue Yang could tip his head back against Song Lan and take his cock.

Xiao Xingchen let out a low noise, the amusement dropping from his face, replaced with something wild. He pushed deeper, more of his cock vanishing between Xue Yang's lips, and his eyes fluttered shut.

Xue Yang pulled on his grip again, and Song Lan squeezed his wrists. He slid his thumb along Xue Yang's cheek, and he could feel Xiao Xinghen's cock through it. He felt Xue Yang's stretched lips, the heat radiating off them both.

He closed his eyes, and hooked the first joint of his thumb into Xue Yang's mouth, slick and soft, pressed against the velvet hardness of Xiao Xingchen's cock. He heard them both moan in unison, and Xue Yang's hips pressed back against his again in silent invitation.

Anything you want, Xue Yang had said, an alarming freedom. He pushed his face into Xue Yang's neck and sucked in a new bruise. He felt Xiao Xingchen's cock slide slowly against his thumb, felt the flicker of Xue Yang's tongue on the outstroke, the point of Xue Yang's canine pressing into his knuckle. It was already close to too much; the thought of more intimate touches made him shake.

"That feels," Xiao Xingchen said, and his voice was hoarse, as if he'd been yelling, or weeping. "Yang'er, your mouth. I had no idea - " his words dissolved into a soft moan, and he pushed deeper, careful, and Xue Yang made an encouraging noise, opening his mouth even wider. Song Lan's fingertips brushed along his throat, feeling him swallow, feeling the push of Xiao Xingchen's cock.

"I'm - " Xiao Xingchen choked on the words, and Song Lan felt his cock flex, felt Xue Yang shudder, and then go limp and willing as Xiao Xingchen shook through his orgasm.

They remained still for a long moment, Xiao Xingchen's cock softening in Xue Yang's mouth, Xue Yang still and quiet in Song Lan's arms. Then Xiao Xingchen flinched back, and said, "Xue Yang, are you all right?" in faintly alarmed tones.

"Mm?" Xue Yang said, and closed his mouth around Song Lan's thumb. Xiao Xingchen let out a relieved sound, and said, "I didn't hurt you?" Xue Yang let out a vague noise, and mumbled around Song Lan's thumb, encouraging him back down with them. Song Lan lifted his head enough to see Xiao Xingchen's face, flushed and pleased. Xue Yang tugged one wrist out of Song Lan's hold, and pulled Xiao Xingchen into a kiss, and Song Lan's breath caught at the feel of Xiao Xingchen's mouth, his tongue sliding against Xue Yang's. Xiao Xingchen stilled, as if waiting for an objection; Song Lan slowly unwrapped his hand from Xue Yang's wrist, and turned it to press flat against Xingchen's chest, over his heart. Felt the quick inhalation of his breath, and then Xiao Xingchen's mouth pressed harder against Xue Yang's, his tongue slick over Song Lan's skin.

Song Lan was still hard, so much so it was almost nauseating when Xue Yang pushed back against him. He groaned, and they broke the kiss, both of them turning towards him.

"Can we - " Xiao Xingchen said, and broke off.

"What do you want, Zichen?" Xue Yang said, lazy, promising. "Mouth? Ass? Hand?"

"No," Song Lan said, flushing with heat at the thought. He drew his hand away from Xue Yang's neck, and propped himself up on his elbow. Xue Yang wriggled onto his back, and blinked up at him with sharp, assessing eyes. Xiao Xingchen was frowning slightly, some of the beautiful ease leaving him. "I - " he hesitated, unsure. He wanted something, but he didn't want to be touched, or touch.

"You should jerk off," Xue Yang said. "Let us watch. You can come on my face if you want."

"Is that," Song Lan said, and hesitated. Enough seemed like the wrong thing to ask. Xiao Xingchen looked hopeful, though, and Xue Yang threw his arms up over his head, stretched out his lean, scarred body. There was a mole just under his collarbone, and Song Lan thought about touching it, rubbing his thumb over the slight rise of flesh. Next time, maybe he'd do that.

"Or anywhere on me, really," Xue Yang said. "On my dick, or my belly. Not in my hair. I mean, if you're really into my hair, I guess I'd let you, but -"

"Shh," Xiao Xingchen said, and he pushed his fingers into Xue Yang's mouth to enforce it. Xue Yang grinned around them, but fell silent, looking expectantly at Song Lan, who hesitated only a second before beginning to undo his belt. Outer robe laid open, then inner, and he undid his pants with unsteady hands, exposing himself to them. Xue Yang sighed out a pleased noise, and worked his mouth around Xiao Xingchen's fingers; Xingchen looked at him with steady interest, lips a little parted, pink tongue just visible.

He was too aroused to feel embarrassed; he liked them looking. The sensation of his own hand on his dick was almost too much, but he looked at Xiao Xingchen's fingers in the tight hold of Xue Yang's mouth and thought about it.

In just a few strokes he was close, shaking, and Xue Yang opened his mouth wide. Xiao Xingchen's fingers slid over his tongue, traced the curve of his lower lip, full and red. Song Lan moved, clumsy, kneeling by Xue Yang's shoulder, hunched over him. His hair brushed against Xiao Xingchen's shoulder, and Song Lan shuddered as if it had been his skin.

He came into Xue Yang's open mouth, closed his eyes against the visual of white on red, and then opened them again when he realised how quickly it would vanish. Xue Yang waited for him to get a good look, eyes bright with amusement. Xiao Xingchen smeared his fingers through the mess, and then Xue Yang closed his mouth around them, and swallowed. Song Lan slumped down against Xue Yang's side, shivering, hand still wrapped protectively around his dick. He watched Xiao Xingchen pull his fingers out of Xue Yang's mouth, and replace them with his tongue, licking his mouth open, kissing like he was trying to chase Song Lan's taste.

Song Lan's dick fucking hurt. He tucked it away gingerly, and touched Xue Yang's hair, smoothing the soft tangle of it back from his temples. Xue Yang gently pressed Xiao Xingchen back and looked up at Song Lan, eyes bright.

"How was that, Zichen?" he said, and Song Lan shivered. He wanted to kiss Xue Yang, a little, but the prospect of their mingled flavours on his tongue made his stomach churn. He nodded, and Xue Yang grinned at him.

"You're going to pass out," he predicted cheerfully, and stretched, his back arching. "Okay, let me get up, dawn's coming and I have things to do."

"Oh, are you sure?" They shuffled around; Xingchen pulling on his inner robe again, Xue Yang dressing fully, and gently pushing Xingchen back down, blanket over him. Song Lan's knees brushed against Xiao Xingchen's, the layers of fabric between them sapping the tension from it. Xue Yang leaned over and kissed his temple.

"Go to sleep, both of you," he said, sounding utterly assured, as if nothing strange or new had happened, and he went to the fire. Xiao Xingchen smiled at Song Lan, eyes soft.

"Was that all right?" he said, quiet, and Song Lan nodded. He reached out, and touched Xiao Xingchen's wrist, the fine pale skin over his pulse, the jut of bone. He tucked his fingers into Xiao Xingchen's palm, and Xiao Xingchen curled his hand around them, and smiled.

*

Xue Yang watched Song Lan curl his hand around Xiao Xingchen's, squeeze it for a second, then pull back. Xiao Xingchen blushed, and Song Lan turned his attention firmly back to his reed braid.

It was cute, Xue Yang supposed. Weird, but it was nice to watch. It would be nicer when Song Lan got around to more touching, but there was no hurry, not when he had all the Xiao Xingchen touching he wanted.

"We're running low on bark," Xiao Xingchen said, and rose. He kissed the top of Xue Yang's head.

"You want me to - "

"No, stay," Xiao Xingchen said. "I'm not going far."

Xue Yang had his hands full of rushes, because now they were working on more matting for the floor, which they were apparently going to level out a bit. And he had Song Lan for company, which was fine. Song Lan gave him a small smile, and Xue Yang said, "Do you think those weird feathery bits on the lizards would be warm like feathers?"

Song Lan considered that, and then said, "We don't have the fabric to make a featherbed."

"Ugh, true." Xue Yang tugged on the reeds. His hands were getting calloused in weird places. He sighed. "I miss candy. I'm just going to start putting everything in my mouth until I find something sweet."

Song Lan gave a slightly distracted smile. After a minute, he said, "Yang'er," and Xue Yang's attention was instantly caught. Song Lan didn't use that much, and it still hooked right into some simple, animal part of him. Song Lan was frowning down at his hands, and Xue Yang said, "You out of rushes? I've still got some."

"No, not that. I was thinking."

"Oh? Go on, then." That would while away the time until Xiao Xingchen got back, and maybe after that, if he'd been chewing over the sort of philosophical knot they liked to bicker over.

But Song Lan said, "I was thinking about Yi City," which wasn't likely to be that much fun. Xue Yang sighed, and Song Lan looked at him.

"Go on," Xue Yang said, because, well, it was only fair. "Which part? The bit where I was lying to Xiao Xingchen, or the bit where I enslaved you?"

"Neither of those," Song Lan said, which was something of a relief, but only really left one period, which hadn't been much fun for anyone involved. Xue Yang focused on the rushes, biting into his skin. "I was thinking about how I came to the city looking for Xiao Xingchen. For years, I'd been looking for him, my only goal to apologise to him, to take back my cruelty. And then I saw you."

"That must have been weird," Xue Yang said. Funny, he didn't say. What would it be like, to see that? The way he felt when Xiao Xingchen defended the Chang clan, maybe. But it was different, of course, because Xiao Xingchen knew what the Chang clan had done and he didn't know who his little friend was. When he did know -

Song Lan was watching him, brows drawn together. "And?" Xue Yang said. "What were you thinking about?"

"I was thinking," Song Lan said, in his soft, level voice, "That I had what I'd longed for, searched for, for years, in my grasp. And the temptation to take revenge took me over, and so precipitated a terrible tragedy."

"Subtle."

"Looking back, I can hardly believe I made that decision," Song Lan continued. "I knew, I knew, that Xiao Xingchen was infinitely more important than my revenge. I should have gone straight to him and made my apologies."

"Don't know that that would have ended better, Song-daozhang," Xue Yang said. "Especially not for me."

Song Lan said, "From my perspective, it's hard to see how it could have gone worse," which was fair. And then he said, "If I could have begun to conceive of a world where forgiveness was possible, where you could be a person Xiao Xingchen could love, we might all have survived."

"Come on. That's bullshit. Neither of you would have gone for that."

"No, I don't think we would have," Song Lan said. "But here we are, now."

"You haven't..." Xue Yang stopped, unsure. Song Lan shrugged.

"I'm not really sure what forgiveness is, any more. I used to know. But I care about you. You haven't undone most of what you did, but... I still do. But perhaps there was no way to get to that without the tragedy, the same way as if I went back and didn't remember anything I'd make the same mistakes again."

"This is all dancing around the fact you want me to forgive the Changs so you can go back to your life," Xue Yang said, and Song Lan shook his head. "Don't lie to me. You care about me as long as it's not inconvenient - "

"Do you think it's convenient?" Song Lan said, his voice rising suddenly. "You think it's easy to look at you and remember seeing you smile as my eyes melted in my head? My shifu's body? Xiao Xingchen killed himself because he couldn't bear it - "

He fell silent. Xue Yang was on his feet, breathing hard. He could taste malice on his tongue, wanted to drive Song Lan to despair, to tears - but Song Lan's eyes were already wet. He looked up at Xue Yang with no challenge in his eyes, and said, "Yang'er. Nothing about caring for you is convenient."

Xue Yang stumbled forward a step and dropped to his knees, butting his head against Song Lan's shoulder. Song Lan's arm was around him instantly, holding him close, and Xue Yang breathed hard into his robes.

"You don't understand," he said, thick. "I can't - I can't. Destroying the Chang clan was everything to me. It was the only reason I survived. It was all I lived for; I might as well have been a resentful ghost searching for appeasement. What am I if I let them live?"

Song Lan stroked his hair, steady, repetitive.

"I don't know," he said. "I know that destroying the Chang clan destroyed your life, too; it ruined everything you had after that. Chang Ci'an almost killed you once. Why let him keep destroying you? He's dead, Yang'er. Let him go. Whatever you are without him, we'll be with you." He paused, and said, "If you don't, we'll still be with you. We'll stay here. But it will be so much better if you can. We can go home, and build a new life. Travel wherever you like. Maybe one day we'll settle and built that sect Xiao Xingchen and I used to talk about."

"I can't have that life."

"You can. Isn't that why you did this in the first place? So we can let go of all the things that destroyed us?" His hand was still in Xue Yang's hair, and Xue Yang whined, a humiliatingly animal sound, and dropped his face into Song Lan's lap, breathing in the warm scent of him. He was shaking like he was feverish.

"Yang'er?" there was a rush of footsteps, and Xiao Xingchen crouched beside him, arm around his shoulders. "Are you hurt? Sick?"

"Emotional," Song Lan said, and Xiao Xingchen's grip relaxed a little, and he stroked Xue Yang's back.

"I was barely gone," Xiao Xingchen said, a little scolding, "And you break him?"

"I'm not broken," Xue Yang said, his voice thick. "Fuck off."

And he wasn't; Xiao Xingchen fussed over him a little and wiped his eyes with a damp cloth and put the stupid lizard in his lap to be petted, like that would help. And everything just went back to normal, like nothing had been broken at all.

He woke Xiao Xingchen up one night, when he couldn't sleep. Xiao Xingchen yawned, and pulled him down for a kiss. Song Lan shifted, and Xue Yang caught a glimpse of his half-open eye.

"What if Chang Ci'an were still alive?" he said, and Xiao Xingchen blinked up at him, sleepy and beautiful. "Would you let me take revenge on him?"

"Yes," Xiao Xingchen said, unhesitating, and then he frowned, and said, "But - not torture, or mass murder, or - "

"Would you let me kill him?" Xue Yang pressed. Song Lan pushed up onto his elbow, but Xue Yang didn't look at him. "If I did it clean."

"I...." Xiao Xingchen looked away. He closed his eyes, and sighed. "Yes. I would try to persuade you against it, but I wouldn't stand in your way."

"Would you bring me to justice?" he said, and this time there was a longer pause.

"No," Xiao Xingchen said, wretchedly. "Please don't ask me what I'd do if someone else came to take you in. I don't know."

"Okay," Xue Yang said, and kissed his closed eyelids, turning him gently by the chin. "Go back to sleep, daozhang." Xiao Xingchen opened his eyes, and Xue Yang covered them with his hand. "No, sh."

A few minutes after he'd gone back to the fire, though, there was a soft series of creaks and Song Lan sat down beside him, reaching out to pull him close. Xue Yang gave a little contented hum at his warmth, his solidity, and tucked his head under Song Lan's chin. They sat quietly for a few minutes.

"If you started a sect, what would I do?" Xue Yang asked.

"If we started a sect," Song Lan said, firm, "You'd teach talismans and arrays, of course. Perhaps handling of resentful energy, to advanced students... not all you know, of course."

"Of course."

"But you could train some superb ghost hunters. And we'd recruit street children, too. You'd know better than Xiao Xingchen and I what they... what they'd need. And you'd show everyone that you're as clever and skilful as any cultivator I've ever met despite not having formal training." Song Lan kissed the top of his head, and then said, "And you can train with Xingchen and me, you know. You're good, but your swordplay could definitely improve."

"Well, your fucking talismans could improve," Xue Yang said, snippy, and felt a silent laugh shake him. "I suppose you'd teach sword."

"And history, and reading and writing. Philosophy. I suppose if we want to confuse the students we should all teach philosophy." Xue Yang turned his face into Song Lan's shoulder to muffle a giggle. "Xiao Xingchen, cultivation and meditation, of course, and sword. We'll have to start small, just a few students. A few buildings, maybe someone to do the cooking for us. A proper bathhouse," and Song Lan sounded a little dreamy about that.

"And what will you say when people ask why you've got a delinquent in your sect?" Xue Yang said, and Song Lan kissed him again.

"I don't answer rude questions," he said, and Xue Yang muffled another laugh. "But Xiao Xingchen will probably take the chance to lecture them on his principles of redemption and forgiveness. And how valuable you are to our sect. Because you will be."

In this fantasy, of course, he was just a petty delinquent, with no massacres to his name. Not notorious. Perhaps no one ever would ask; that delinquent wasn't exactly famous. No one would fear his name, or spit on it.

He pleated the hem of Song Lan's sleeve between his fingers, and said, "Song-daozhang, you can't let me take care of children."

Song Lan made a considering noise. Then he said, "We hadn't planned on starting our sect for years. Who knows? Maybe by then we can."

"What if you can't?"

"Then I suppose we won't start a sect. There's always something for rogue cultivators to do."

"But," Xue Yang said, annoyed, "I want you to have your stupid sect. The whole point of this is so you - Xiao Xingchen - so you can have what you want."

"Mm," Song Lan said, annoyingly.

Xue Yang considered that from all angles, and said, with outrage restrained enough not to wake Xiao Xingchen, "That's blackmail."

"I don't think it is," Song Lan said. He rubbed his hand in a circle on Xue Yang's back, so clearly he knew he was feeding Xue Yang a line of bullshit. "We can't make you do anything you don't want to, clearly. We'd just have to trust you."

He said it like it was funny. Xue Yang sank his teeth into Song Lan's collarbone, and Song Lan chuckled. Xue Yang found, to his disgust, that he couldn't make his teeth cut the skin. He could get away with it. They'd put up with much worse from him, after all. Song Lan might not even stop holding him.

He sighed, and unfastened his teeth. Song Lan stroked his hair.

When Xiao Xingchen joined them for breakfast, Xue Yang was mostly asleep on Song Lan, and Xiao Xingchen pinched his cheek and told him he was cute.

"Fuck off," Xue Yang said, and Xiao Xingchen pinched him again, smiling, unconcerned.

About as threatening as lapdog to these two. Disgusting.

"What about the Wen?" he said, later, and Xiao Xingchen said, "What about them?"

"The Wen," Xue Yang said. "They were the whole reason you were on my tail. The Wen I killed before Chang Manor. They'd all die during the Sunshot campaign, right? It doesn't matter I killed them?"

Xiao Xingchen looked at Song Lan; they both looked confused. Finally Song Lan said, "I thought you were working for the Wen? Why did you kill them?"

"I didn't realise..." Xiao Xingchen said, in pure bewilderment.

"Yeah, they were incognito. They were supposed to be tracking me and making sure I did the job, and dragging me back to Wen Ruohan after," Xue Yang said. "I don't really care about them, so theoretically I might be able to go back earlier and let them live, but then they'd show up to Chang manor to look for me, and they might find Wei Wuxian and all the others, which would be bad, right? And like I said, all the Wen will die soon after anyway - "

"I think - " Xiao Xingchen looked at Song Lan. "I think that's... theoretically acceptable?"

"It's sort of self-defence," Song Lan said doubtfully. "They're certainly not innocents, and they were comfortable letting you perform a massacre - "

"I was comfortable performing a massacre," Xue Yang said, mostly to be difficult. "Perhaps if you were kind enough to them they'd regret it and be better people."

"That's true," Xiao Xingchen said, taking it entirely too seriously, "And it must be very hard for them to resist their sect leader, who's a powerful and unstable man. But how could we persuade them to accept that kindness?"

"If they came to Chang manor we would have had to fight them anyway, I expect," Song Lan said, more sensibly. "They'd be interested in capturing the young masters - hostages from three of the great sects - and they'd certainly want to take Xue Yang."

"Of course we couldn't allow that," Xiao Xingchen agreed, and took firm hold of Xue Yang's hand, like Xue Yang hadn't already, in a different past or future, taken perfectly good care of all those people.

It was almost tempting to go back and let those Wen live, and lead them to Chang manor just to see Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan draw their swords in his defence; perhaps, even, the Chang clan would come out in support of Wen Ruohan, who was, after all, the Chief Cultivator, and then Xue Yang would really have no choice -

"What are you smiling about?" Song Lan said, and took his other hand. The two of them would probably be upset if they ended up slaughtering the Chang clan. And it wouldn't be the same, anyway; so much less satisfying than tearing them apart with his own power.

"I think I'd like it if you killed someone to protect me," Xue Yang settled on, and Song Lan made a very strange face. "But you probably wouldn't like it."

"Hm," Song Lan said, and kissed Xue Yang's temple, clearly an avoidance tactic.

"So theoretically all those murders are okay, even though they're the original reason you were chasing me?"

There was a decent chance Wen Ruohan would go after the Chang clan anyway, what with him thinking they were sitting on the Yin iron. But then, if Xue Yang bolted without even touching them, maybe Wen Ruohan would think Xue Yang had been lying about that.

Predicting other people's behaviour got very complicated.

"I'm sure questions like this used to be easier," Xiao Xingchen said, after considering it for a while.

"Maybe we just weren't thinking about them enough," Song Lan said, and Xiao Xingchen sighed.

"That seems very likely true. As time passes, the more I understand how little the wisest act."

"Sounds boring," Xue Yang said. "And anyway, if wise people don't do anything that just leaves idiots doing everything."

"If the wise choice is doing nothing then all acts are foolish," Song Lan said.

"Maybe people are just scared of making choices," Xue Yang said. "Bad shit's going to happen; might as well choose it for yourself."

"Hm," Song Lan said. His eyes creased a little at the corners. "That's probably a factor, yes. Have you ever been scared of the consequences of your actions?"

"No." Then, "Yes. When Xiao Xingchen drew on me, the first night we came here. I thought he was going to slit his throat again, and I wouldn't be able to fix it."

"You weren't afraid we'd kill you?" Song Lan said, a touch dryly. Xiao Xingchen squeezed his hand.

"Not really," Xue Yang said. "You'll never get anything done if you're scared of dying, Song-daozhang. Particularly if you're someone everyone wants dead. I'm amazed I'm not dead, really. You'd think someone would have finished me off. Guess they all had other shit going on." He smiled, bright, and Song Lan looked up at as if seeking help from the cave roof.

"It's selfish of me to be glad," Xiao Xingchen said, "But I am."

Xue Yang lifted Xiao Xingchen's hand to his lips. Xiao Xingchen had slim hands, all bone and sinew like a chicken's wing. He set his teeth against the pad of flesh at the base of his thumb, and Xiao Xingchen smiled at him.

He sat up with Song Lan that night; he wanted to crawl in with Xiao Xingchen, but he was still restless. He braided reeds, sitting close enough to Song Lan for their robes to brush, and tried to bait him into bickering.

Song Lan refused to get annoyed with him. He even smiled a few times.

"Song-daozhang," he crooned, and leaned sideways into him, nudging their shoulders together. "Tell me another story about Mencius and his wife."

"You want to hear more about Mencius' writings?" Song Lan said, mildly.

"Yeah, tell me what else he got up to," Xue Yang said. Song Lan was wrapping more cord, his big hands moving assured and steady. Xue Yang put out his own hand to cover them for a moment, feeling them move like a caught animal under his touch. Song Lan's hands were only slightly bigger than his, and he wondered if he'd be as tall as Song Lan if he hadn't spent so much time hungry as a kid.

Song Lan raised an eyebrow at him, and Xue Yang rubbed his thumb over the back of Song Lan's hand before going back to his braiding. Song Lan watched him a little longer, that small smile on his lips, before saying, "Mencius wrote that people would not have constant hearts unless they had constant means. And if they didn't have constant hearts, they would behave improperly."

"Tits out?" Xue Yang said, and Song Lan's smile widened.

"Probably, but he was concerned about more serious matters. Crimes. He said that to then punish people who had broken the law due to being improperly governed was to set a trap for them."

Xue Yang kept braiding. Over, under, loop, tighten. The rushes scraped against the callous he was building on his forefinger; a peasant's callous, not a swordsman's callous. Song Lan watched him.

"And what do you think about that?"

"I used to think it was a very lenient attitude. I thought that a moral person wouldn't let adversity change their nature or fall into bad ways." He shrugged. "I suppose I thought it was always as simple as a choice between doing a good thing, and a bad thing."

"Are you trying to teach me ethics, Song-daozhang?"

"You did ask." Song Lan's eyes creased at the corners, and Xue Yang smiled back at him automatically. "I suppose… I wondered."

"Wondered," Xue Yang parroted.

"I wondered if that was the case with you. That you weren't just a bad person; that you had fallen into a trap set for you."

Xue Yang smiled wider, and Song Lan's brow pinched a little, so it probably wasn't a good smile. He breathed deeper, let his shoulders roll back and relaxed his neck. He didn't want to hurt Song Lan, he just -

"Song-daozhang, I don't have a fancy temple education, so I don't know the difference between a good person and a bad person. Or a good thing or a bad thing, come to that. I only know the way they treat me, and the way I feel about it. Let the most virtuous person in the world take up arms against me, and I'll ruin them." He glanced at Xiao Xingchen, tucked up in his blanket. "Should I choose to die instead, for some philosophical ideal?"

"I suppose I thought," Song Lan said, and he spoke even more slowly and deliberately than usual, picking his words with care, "That if you had had a - a fancy temple education, then you might have felt differently. Acted differently."

"But I didn't." Xue Yang's breathing was faster, and he forced his hands to relax, not to pull the braid too tight, snap the reeds. "I didn't get it, and I don't feel differently, and I didn't act differently. I remember you saying it - even if I change things, I'm still the person who did them. I'll never be the person who got picked off the street and educated and was just given things."

"I know that - "

"I don't think you do." Xue Yang's smile felt wild even to him. He looked at Xiao Xingchen again, breathing, alive. He'd let Xue Yang hold his hand again today, called him Yang'er in that soft voice. He'd probably do it again tomorrow if Xue Yang kept his composure now. He said, as nicely as he could manage, "Song-daozhang, it would be easier if you could believe I was a good person at heart, wouldn't it? That I just had bad teachers and masters and leaders. It wasn't my fault, I was made to do things. You just need to teach me better. But it's too late. I can undo my crimes but I'll always be Xue Yang, and I will never, ever regret that. If I never kill another person, I'll still be a killer."

"I remember you asking if wanting better things didn't make you a better person," Song Lan said, with an inconveniently good memory.

"You didn't really answer me," Xue Yang said. "But back then you wanted to say no and now you want to say yes. And it's not because you've worked out the philosophy."

"You seem… annoyed about that," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang tipped his head back, swallowed his laughter. Xiao Xingchen needed his sleep. But it was funny. It really was funny.

"Because if you're twisting your dao or Mencius or ethics as an excuse to forgive me now, then it was always an excuse. It was just an excuse when you were sending me to my death."

Song Lan's face pursed up like he'd bitten down on a persimmon and found a wasp. Xue Yang put the tip of his tongue between his teeth and held it there, so he wouldn't press his advantage, cut at Song Lan's hypocrisy. It wasn't a fight; he didn't want to destroy Song Lan. Didn't even really enjoy that face on him, in all honesty. He liked the smiles better. They were just talking about things, anyway. Not even arguing.

"You… have a point," Song Lan admitted, his expression easing, taking some of Xue Yang's tension along with it. "I've always sought to live by the dao, by ethical principles, but of course we are in the world, and can never detach ourselves fully from our own concerns this side of enlightenment."

"That's a nicer way of putting it," Xue Yang said, and Song Lan cast his gaze up in mild exasperation, which was probably fair. Xue Yang swayed in and bumped their shoulders again, and Song Lan set the cord down, and put one hand on Xue Yang's back. His layers were too many for Xue Yang to feel the warmth of it, but it was a pleasant weight, and Xue Yang leaned more heavily against him. "You can say it, Song-daozhang, you wanted to kill me in Yi City because you hated me, and now you want me alive because you love Xiao Xingchen. It's got nothing to do with ethics."

"Oh, I know that everything I did in Yi City was for the wrong reasons," Song Lan said with surprising ease. "I was consumed by vengeance. I didn't think - or at least, when I had thoughts, I shoved them away, telling myself there would be time later. I let my fury cloud my reason, and then, already unbalanced with passion, I was easy prey for your taunting. I don't say I was wrong to want you dead, but I didn't make that decision with reason." He turned his head, and Xue Yang looked down at his hands, still braiding rushes, more slowly now. Song Lan had lovely eyes, and their stare was intense this close. He said, breath warm against Xue Yang's temple, "I don't want to kill you now, because I care about you. I enjoy your company. I like how much you make Xiao Xingchen smile. But I can't say whether or not I like you because I think you can be a better person, or if I think you can be a better person because I like you." He paused. Xue Yang didn't look up, didn't speak, and Song Lan said, "Perhaps they go hand in hand."

Xue Yang had to swallow three times before he was sure he could get words out, and he said very levelly, "I can change that, Song-daozhang. If you'd rather hate me again, it'll take me - ten minutes."

Song Lan rubbed his hand over Xue Yang's back, up and down the line of his spine. Xue Yang shivered. "I don't want to hate you. And, as it happens, many eminent scholars have advocated for letting go of destructive emotions such as hate."

"Convenient."

"Perhaps." Song Lan gave a small shrug, not enough to dislodge Xue Yang. He grumbled anyway, and shuffled closer. Song Lan's hand shifted, curled around his waist. "I expect, given time, I could find ancient scholars to support any point of view I wanted to hold. Ancient scholar really just means someone who had paper, pen and some time to spare."

"Then why bother?" Xue Yang said. "Why not just believe what you want?"

"I know you think it's hypocrisy. But it seems a worthy goal to me, to try and be a good man. Of course the demands of the world, my own nature, the work of my enemies," and he squeezed Xue Yang's waist, "Will mean I fail, again and again."

There were a lot of responses to that. Most of them were cruel. A lot of them were cruel while being completely true.

He settled on, "I don't see why you need scholars for that. You seem judgemental enough on your own."

"I'm sure that was a compliment," Song Lan said, sedately. "It's good to get different perspectives. For instance, it wouldn't have occurred to me that you can't trust a man who doesn't want to see his wife's tits."

Xue Yang bit a mouthful of Song Lan's robes to keep in a whoop of laughter. His shoulders shook. Song Lan continued serenely, "As you say, perhaps our reason is merely an excuse for our feelings. Would Mencius have been so committed to propriety if he'd liked his wife's tits better? Perhaps if he had, he would have come to the same conclusion his mother did; that her conduct was acceptable."

The bed creaked behind them, and Xiao Xingchen said, in a slightly puzzled voice, "Zichen, did you just say tits?"

Xue Yang wheezed in a breath and cackled it out, almost drowning out Song Lan's explanation that they were having a discussion about the roles of reason and feeling in philosophical debate.

Xiao Xingchen came and sat down on Xue Yang's other side, and before he'd made up his mind to stop leaning on Song Lan, Xiao Xingchen laid himself along Xue Yang's side, and Xue Yang hastily lifted his arm so Xiao Xingchen fitted under it, loose and smiling.

"Don't stop on my account," Xiao Xingchen said, and Xue Yang hesitated, glancing up at Song Lan.

"The question is whether we use reason, philosophy, scholarly works, to justify our decisions when in truth, we have already made them based on our feelings," Song Lan said, dry and boring. Xiao Xingchen gave a considering hum.

"What do you think, Yang'er?"

"I make all my decisions based on what feels good at the time," Xue Yang said. "No reason in it." Almost all, he corrected himself, and grimaced.

"Ah, just as the dao teaches," Xiao Xingchen said, and giggled when Xue Yang jostled him. "Isn't it, Zichen?"

"The dao teaches that we seek to be in harmony with the world, and so we act instinctively in accordance with our nature," Song Lan said, "But one is supposed, by study and contemplation, to cultivate a nature which is in harmony with the world. Not opposed to it in every possible way."

"So we're supposed to think hard about our actions being in harmony except when we're actually doing them?"

"The dao is inherently contradictory."

"Well, so am I," Xue Yang said, and Xingchen laughed again. Song Lan was even smiling, just a bit. He patted Xue Yang's back and then leaned heavily into him, pushing him back upright, making Xiao Xingchen grumble.

"I'm going to sleep," he said. "Argue quietly if you must."

Xiao Xingchen was sleep-warm, flushed and still a little heavy-eyed. He smiled under Xue Yang's gaze, and took Xue Yang's hand in his own.

"I suppose I have always acted as I felt right," he said. "But perhaps I should have used reason more?" His mouth turned, wryly. "How can we judge the rightness of an action? By our intent? By its consequences?"

"Yeah, daozhang. When you were chasing me around Yueyang, you should have known it would end up with Song-daozhang getting chewed up by a dragon-fish. Shame on you, right?"

"But it didn't end there," Xiao Xingchen said. "It hasn't ended yet, has it?" He squeezed Xue Yang's hand.

"Not for us, but it's ended for a lot of people." Xue Yang looked away from the shadow that crossed Xiao Xingchen's face. "How do you you add up that account? Seems impossible to me."

"We can never know all the consequences of our actions, I suppose." Xiao Xingchen felt for the last finger on Xue Yang's left hand, ran his fingertip along it. "The cruelties or the kindnesses. But then, would a cruel man hesitate in his cruelty because others might suffer painful consequences? Would a kind man act with cruelty for the same reason?"

"I dunno, daozhang. If you'd send a man for execution, I don't see why you would save the same man's life." Xiao Xingchen sighed, and Xue Yang said, "You worry too much."

"You might do less to worry me, then," Xiao Xingchen said tartly, but he smiled.

Xue Yang leaned close, brushed his nose against Xiao Xingchen's cheek, watched his eyelashes flutter down. His lips were soft, a little rough, curling into a slight smile under Xue Yang's.

He shifted, brushed his lips light over Xiao Xingchen's eyelids. They felt different from the crumpled, sore skin they'd used to be, the eyeballs moving gently under the lids. but he felt the same gut-deep thrill as he thought I did this. Made him whole again, instead of broken him.

"I'm going to sleep," he said, and Xiao Xingchen smiled, and took the pin out of his hair for him, tucking it away and then loosening the braids with his fingers. He kissed Xue Yang again, and said, "Sleep well, Yang'er."

Song Lan was stretched out on his back, hands folded over his chest, blanket up to his chin. Xue Yang got in beside him, pressed up tight.

Song Lan's eyes opened the second the bed started to creak. In Yi City Xue Yang would say it's cold, daozhang or the roof leaked right on my bed or even, in plaintive tones, I'm lonely. Lies to make Xiao Xingchen smile and tuck him in close. My poor little friend, how you suffer, he'd say, and sometimes he'd giggle, pale and blue-tinted in the moonlight that seeped in around their shutters.

Now Xue Yang just snuggled close, head under Song Lan's chin.

Song Lan squirmed, and the arm between them slid under Xue Yang's armpit, folded loosely around his back. He settled.

Xue Yang could still taste Xiao Xingchen's sleep-sour mouth, had the scent of Song Lan's sweat in his nose. The bed was itchy and the smoke had blown into the cave a little, so each breath was gritty. But Xue Yang was light as a feather.

It had been better in Yi City. He didn't have regrets weighing at him then; barely understood what they were, had never grieved. He had floated blissfully in Xiao Xingchen's affection without a care in the world.

Now, though, Xiao Xingchen knew. He knew, and Song Lan knew, and Xue Yang was still held close against the night.

It reminded Xue Yang of fresh snowfall; of coming back from a night hunt with Xiao Xingchen, snow whirling all around them, the sky a faint yellowy light instead of the velvet black it should be. Stopping so Xue Yang could look out over the untouched white fields, and for a few moments just the deep silence, snow melting into tears on his face, Xiao Xingchen's hand warm in his. Feeling very small and completely surrounded and not at all alone, Xiao Xingchen waiting patiently for him to find words to describe the world to him.

He felt like that now; like snow, horizon to horizon, til his body could barely encompass it, but he was still perfectly warm.

"Fine," Xue Yang said, one day in midsummer, when the long days and heat meant they'd given up on having a fire apart from cooking, and didn't sit around for hours talking. They were sitting up on a rock outcropping, enjoying the sunset over the basin, the shadows of the long necks of dragon stretching on forever.

It might have been the same rock outcropping he'd met Song Lan on the night they first got here, but he didn't think so. It would have been more symmetrical, but you had to make do with what you had.

Xiao Xingchen raised his eyebrows. Song Lan tipped his head in silent question. Xue Yang's heart pounded against his ribs, and he wondered if it was fear; not of dying, but of living directionless, with no vengeance to shape his life. Drifting, waiting for things to happen, clinging to other debris on the tide instead of cutting a path through the waves. He steeled himself, and said, "If you care about the Chang clan so much, you can have them."

"It's not about - " Xiao Xingchen began, and then stopped. He stared with his eyes wide and luminous. "Yang'er?" he said, in the most ruinous way yet. Xue Yang had to look away, but Song Lan's steady gaze was no better.

"I'll take us to before, if you want to go back. I'll let them live." The words were just words, but he was lighter after he'd said them, breathed in air like it would float him away.

He remembered killing the Chang clan, and that would be enough. Had to be enough, because there were things he wanted more, now.

Xiao Xingchen pressed his face against Xue Yang's hair, breathing shaky. He rubbed his hands over Xue Yang's back, his neck, cupped his face and kissed his forehead. Song Lan laid a hand on the small of his back, and just sat there behind him, silent. Xue Yang knew if he leaned back a little, he'd be able to feel the living beat of Song Lan's heart.

"Thank you," Xiao Xingchen said, and Song Lan rubbed a circle on his back.

"Don't," Xue Yang said.

"I know you- "

"Maybe you do," Xue Yang said, because after all, Xiao Xingchen had had to give up his dreams, too, had settled down into a tiny circumscribed life with a couple of liars and a coffin house. Was it better or worse that he hadn't had a choice? "Let's not fucking - talk about it."

"Okay," Xiao Xingchen said. He still wanted to, obviously. Xue Yang could feel him all swelled up with effusive words and praise and affection, but it was all too much, right now. Xue Yang was, after all, still being intensely selfish; it was just that what he wanted badly enough to tear the world apart had changed.

He wanted to say you'd better not get tired of me but it would probably sound like a threat, instead of the very real prediction it was. They had to know, though; had to be sure. They knew what he was.

They still wanted him.

"Will you buy me candy again, daozhang?" he said, instead of any one of the other things he could say, and Xiao Xingchen laughed, bright and clear.

"Every day," he said. "You and A-Qing."

A-Qing would be well again, and her usual fierce, quarrelsome self. No one but Xue Yang would remember that hour by the river. This time he wouldn't destroy everything he cared for, no matter how much it hurt him to keep.

"When?" he said, and some of the glow faded from Xiao Xingchen's face, and he looked up at Song Lan.

"No hurry," Song Lan said. "It's summer, there's plenty of food."

"I'm not going to change my mind," Xue Yang said.

"Good," Xiao Xingchen said, "But there's still no hurry." He coiled a strand of Xue Yang's hair around his finger, and smiled at him, and Xue Yang's irritation settled. It didn't matter how long they spent here, when they'd be returning to the same moment, the same bodies. It was for them, after all; they could choose when.

It turned out none of them wanted to put up with another winter, and when the first frost came, Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen spent the week whispering about it when they thought he wasn't paying attention, before telling him they thought it was time.

Part of him didn't want to leave their cave behind. He'd felt the same sad, strange tug about leaving the coffin house. Maybe you felt it whenever you left home. He thought, idly, of taking some keepsake, but that was foolish; he was taking Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan, after all, and they were the things that mattered.

He did collect a couple of the more dramatic claws and teeth, because they were the sort of things that could be useful. He came back to find Song Lan had carefully rolled up their mats and stacked them in the corner, like it mattered if they left the place neat. He even latched the door as they left, and Xue Yang laughed at him.

"Maybe the pack lizards will move in, when the sealing talisman finally fails," he suggested. Song Lan didn't look particularly happy about that idea. "Come on, Xiao Xingchen's waiting."

He looked about for Xiao Xingchen's pet lizard, but didn't see it; he left a little pile of scraps against the rock face, just to tide it over when it came looking for him.

Xiao Xingchen was standing on a rock outcropping, staring out over the sweep of the landscape, the great moving shapes of the huge beasts in the basin. "It's very beautiful here," he said. "In some ways, I'll miss it."

"Me too," Xue Yang said. Rejoining the world meant he'd have to share Xiao Xingchen's attention again; and he'd be a folk hero again, not just a poor blind wandering cultivator. Really, Xue Yang was making a lot of sacrifices. At least he wouldn't have to share Song Lan as much. He was much less chatty and friendly. "But think how nice it will be to sleep through the night!"

"Baths," Song Lan said, with a little sigh.

"Very true," Xiao Xingchen said, smiling, and stepped down. "Xue Yang. Zichen and I talked it over - "

"What now," Xue Yang said, and Xiao Xingchen took his hands.

"We just wanted to say that if you want to go back to before you ever met Chang Ci'an, then that's - we don't mind," Xiao Xingchen said. "It'll be strange, of course - and it'll be years til we meet again, but - "

"Perhaps I would be allowed to come and find you in Kuizhou and bring you back," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang laughed, jangling and mechanical. "If I explained."

"Don't be stupid," he said, and he looked down at his hands, the left one strong and intact. "You were right," he said, a little reluctantly. "It's not the - the finger."

Not the finger, not the tongue, not the eyes. You couldn't undo it as long as you remembered it, and if you undid that, you weren't the same person any more. Xue Yang had spent too much time and spilt too much blood surviving to wipe himself out, even if he could.

"Anyway," he said, "I'd be an adult in a seven year old body. Pretty fucked up. I'd have to get lucky again; who knows what might happen to me this time? No. We'll go back to Yueyang." He stepped forward into their space, and Xiao Xingchen's arm slipped around his waist. He rested his head against Song Lan's shoulder, and said, "Thanks, though."

"Well, it's probably for the best," Xiao Xingchen said. "I am sure my shizun would have noticed a difference."

And also, it occurred to Xue Yang, with another eight years or so to contemplate it, Xiao Xingchen might decide against leaving the mountain, and Xue Yang and Song Lan would be left waiting for him to come back, forever this time.

It would be better than the last time, of course - they didn't hate each other, they could night hunt and so on, even if they never got round to a sect - but there would always be something missing.

He looked up at Song Lan, and Song Lan kissed his forehead, and said, "We'll see you very soon, then. Good."

"We'll meet outside Chang manor," Xue Yang said. "Don't go in. Don't - talk to them."

"All right." Xiao Xingchen rubbed his back, soothing. "We'll meet up with those young men outside. I want to see my martial nephew, and I suppose we should try and keep things on track as best we can."

"If the Chang clan live that's a big difference," Xue Yang said. "Unless you want to give them another reason to arrest me?"

"Absolutely not," Song Lan said.

"Far too dangerous. What if they execute you?" Xiao Xingchen said, and Xue Yang laughed.

"They almost did, you know," he said. "Nie Mingjue's fuckoff great sabre was so close I could've licked it."

"It can't have changed that much, having you there," Song Lan said, dubiously.

"Probably not," Xue Yang lied. He had meddled with a lot of shit, but really, what was the point of worrying about it? If things were meant to happen, they'd happen, and if they weren't meant to it didn't matter if they didn't.

If Wen Ruohan ended up winning the Sunshot campaign, then Xue Yang was going to have to use the Yin Tiger Tally and be his own Yiling Patriarch, which would be extremely funny, though he wasn't sure Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen would see it that way.

"All right, last chance for changes to the plan," he said. "Seriously, make up your minds. I'm about to knock you both out and take you back whether you like it or not."

He went into the cave, which was just as he'd left it; nevertheless, he checked every talisman once more before pinning the relevant ones to his own body, to ensure his gear stayed with him. Too bad he couldn't glue one to his hand; he didn't want to risk ending up with some horrible fleshy mess. No, he'd take his old body back, even if it hurt him sometimes. It was probably fair, the amount he put it through.

One more check of the talismans. He inspected the Yin Tiger Tally, gleaming dark and beautiful in his hand, thrumming with resentment.

If it went wrong -

Well, last time it had gone wrong, and that had worked out better than he could have imagined. This time, he'd keep his focus.

If things went wrong, he'd figure it out again.

"Okay, come in, and do exactly what I tell you to," he said. "Seriously. This was easier with two corpses."

Song Lan wrinkled his nose in disapproval of that sentiment; Xiao Xingchen smiled, a little cautiously. They took up their positions, obedient, and Xue Yang said, "Okay, lean down a bit, Zichen," and then kissed him before turning to do the same to Xiao Xingchen, who was easier to reach.

"Chang Manor," he said, his pulse beating uncomfortably fast. "If we miss each other there, leave word for me in the nearby village, not the manor. And if it all gets fucked up for some reason, I'll wait for you in Yi City, all right?"

Don't forget about me, don't walk away, he didn't say. It would be tempting, surely, to see each other again and just turn and flee, going as far and fast from him as they could.

"Be careful," Xiao Xingchen said, and Song Lan added, "Don't take any risks. We don't want to have to break you out of Wen Ruohan's cells."

"Don't even try," Xue Yang ordered. "Seriously. All right, I won't take any risks, don't even think about tangling with Wen Ruohan, he'd turn you into the shittiest fierce corpses." He didn't say you'll be nostalgic for nails in your head, out of tact, because he didn't want to see Song Lan's expression turn shadowy and sad. "Okay. You just need to clear your heads. Meditate. Empty it out. Definitely don't start thinking about other times you'd like to be in."

It probably wouldn't make a difference; the control was with Xue Yang, after all. He raised the Yin Tiger Tally, glanced back and forth between them, white and black and grey, the warmth of their eyes hidden behind pale lids, still and silent. But he could feel their qi as the talismans began to glow, felt it flow around the circle. His own golden core, weaker, was dedicated to controlling the resentful energy, not letting it touch their qi. This was the hardest part; before, the only qi had been his own, and it was already hopelessly entangled with resentment.

Yueyang Chang. Xiao Xingchen. Song Lan. Himself on the road, expectation surging high in his heart, his victory within his grasp. The Chang clan, sleeping sweet and peaceful, relying on their defences to keep them safe from spirits. The Yin iron in his hand. The greatest moment of his life, about to happen.

"There," he said, picturing the hill, the gate, the night sky and the familiar stars. "There. Then."

The array lit up like the sun; the Yin Tiger Tally's darkness eclipsed it, and they fell into the great river of time.

Chapter Text

Ten days and an uncountable number of years later, Xue Yang jogged up the hill, and let out a tiny sigh of relief at the sight that met his eyes. The whole lot of them, all safe and well; the young masters, the Qinghe lot, and his daoshi, chattering away in the pearl-grey dawn.

"Ah," Xiao Xingchen said, and his face lit up in a smile that had everyone looking at him like the only light in a dark night. Except Song Lan, who was looking at Xue Yang too. He beamed back at them as Xiao Xingchen explained, "Our friend, Xue Yang. We've been waiting for him..." he pursed his lips.

"Feels like ten thousand years, daozhang," Xue Yang said breezily, and Song Lan shook his head, eyes creasing. "Had to dodge some Wen patrols, they're crawling all over. Did you tell these nice young masters about the Wen?"

"We've explained the situation, somewhat," Xiao Xingchen said. He reached out when Xue Yang came close, and smoothed his robe, quite unnecessarily. His gaze flicked over Xue Yang, caught on his gloved hand, returned to his face. "Meng Yao has promised to convey our concerns. You're quite well? They didn't catch you?"

"Don't fuss," Xue Yang said, grinning. "But I do have a little surprise." Xiao Xingchen raised his eyebrows, and Xue Yang turned his attention to the young masters. They were probably going to make all the same mistakes again, poor bastards; although Meng Yao would be denied the chance to let Xue Yang out of his cell, and who knew what that would change.

And Wei Wuxian - Xue Yang grinned at him, and Wei Wuxian folded his arms, and looked back with a sceptical expression.

"I don't remember a Xue Yang in any of the songs," he said, and Xue Yang giggled.

"I'm shy," he said, and batted his lashes. Wei Wuxian's sceptical expression deepened.

Xue Yang owed him for his help, really, owed the Yiling Patriarch, and he had the perfect gift for that.

He plucked it from his sleeve and stepped forward, holding it up. It drew the eye, dark and ominous. Xiao Xingchen drew in a breath, but then let it out without speaking.

"Wen Ruohan thinks the Chang clan are harbouring a piece of the Yin metal," he said. "Best he doesn't think that any more. So here it is."

"Yin metal," Wei Wuxian said, and behind him, the Lan kid's attention sharpened.

"They're powerful and Wen Ruohan is looking for them." He took another step, right into Wei Wuxian's space, and put it into his hand. Wei Wuxian flinched away, but Xue Yang had hold of his wrist. He spoke low and intent, smiling the smile that put people on edge, that made even Jin Guangyao choose his words with care. "For you, Wei-qianbei. You're not a sect heir. You take this and you study it. And don't think oh, Lotus Pier is safe or Gusu will be fine. I've come down from Qishan Wen and I've seen Wen Ruohan raise the dead with my own eyes. From his own mouth I've heard he's going to conquer and subjugate you. If it can burn, he's going to burn it. Understand? Study this, because he's going looking for more of them, and if he finds them, he'll use them."

Wei Wuxian looked at it, and then at Xue Yang. He was as sharp as Xue Yang had expected; after that flood of information, he said, "How do you know my name?"

Xue Yang stepped back and laughed, tossing his hair back over his shoulder. "Guess you just have one of those faces, Wei-qianbei. Go on. Get to safety while there still is some." He caught Meng Yao's piercing eye, and grinned at him. Smart as Meng Yao was, he almost certainly wouldn't figure that one out.

He clearly wanted to ask further questions, but Xue Yang stepped back between Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen, and they said their goodbyes very politely - Xue Yang even bowed and didn't laugh, like a proper young master - and finally they all flew off on their swords, and Xue Yang resisted the urge to wave.

A tiny creeping thread of unease drifted through him as the silence persisted; with all his crimes undone, it would be just the right moment to kill him, and remove the risk of him doing more.

"I can't see them any more," Xiao Xingchen said finally, and then he turned and wrapped his arms around Xue Yang. "Where have you been?"

Song Lan stroked his hair, and kissed his cheek, and Xue Yang leaned happily into the touches. It had been a very long ten days without anyone to worry over him; he was out of the habit of being alone, had kept glancing around for someone to talk to. Had lifted his hand to snap his fingers, once, and felt stupid when he realised.

"I couldn't stay here," he said, and nodded up the hill to the manor, full and bustling with Chang Ci'an's relatives, his loved ones. "It was - I couldn't. So I decided I needed to be somewhere else until I was sure you'd be here."

The temptation had almost overwhelmed him, like a fox faced with a henhouse. The pain in his hand had been new and fresh after a year without it, and he'd burned. He'd almost given in to the urge to rip off the doors, to have that triumph all over again; another piece of Yin iron, he could gorge it on death, he could turn back on Wen Ruohan and use the Yin Tiger Tally to turn his city into a charnel house -

But he'd made up his mind already, and while Xue Yang wasn't great at resisting temptation, he knew how to go after what he wanted. And he wanted something different, this time, and so he'd turned away into the night, gone safely to ground while he waited for them.

He'd always remember Chang Manor stained with blood and resentful energy, the corpses hung like meat, and that would do.

"That was probably sensible," Song Lan said, not sounding like he was annoyed at Xue Yang's bloodlust. "Perhaps we should get away from here ourselves."

"In a moment," Xiao Xingchen said, holding on a little tighter, like he'd missed Xue Yang. Well, Song Lan wasn't as cuddly. Xue Yang patted him. "The Yin iron?"

"I just figured I might as well give it to him," he said with a shrug. "I still have mine, the one I rebuilt. But there's extra, now, because of the time travel shit."

"That seems... bad?" Song Lan said, and Xue Yang shrugged again.

"Well, it's probably safe, unless the Wen get hold of me and shake it out of me. In that case, the Sunshot campaign's probably going to go the other way, so..."

That prompted Xiao Xingchen to unwrap them from each other, looking concerned.

"But I gave that other piece to Wei Wuxian, so hopefully Wen Ruohan'll think I don't have any," Xue Yang added. Song Lan was frowning, like he was trying to work through the possibilities in his head. "So where are we going? Song-daozhang, do you..." he made a vague gesture. "Are we going to..."

Song Lan looked at him blankly, and Xue Yang sighed. "If you want to visit Baixue," he said, "I can probably find somewhere to go to ground and wait."

Song Lan closed his eyes; longing shaped his face for a moment, and then he said, "I have no intention of letting either of you out of my sight again. Possibly for the rest of my life. Certainly not until after the Sunshot campaign. Especially not with you carrying a second Yin Tiger Tally around. No, we'll go and find A-Qing, and get as far as we can from the war. And after, then we'll go back to Baixue."

Xue Yang had some questions about that we. He didn't really want to meet Song Lan's shifu; he'd felt enough regret for one lifetime, and he didn't need to start feeling it about things he already hadn't done. But that could be a problem for later. Years away; when had he ever worried about years away?

He might have to start, now.

His gaze fell on Xiao Xingchen's sleeve, which was billowing very strangely. He said, "Daozhang, what's - " and then stopped, stunned, as Xiao Xingchen's little pet lizard hopped down into the road and shook itself. He looked up at Song Lan, who shrugged.

"I had no idea until we got here," he said.

"Did you seriously load another spirit into my insanely complicated and dangerous spiritual transformation array," Xue Yang said, and Xiao Xingchen blinked at him.

"Oh. I didn't think of it like that. That was risky, wasn't it?" He frowned. "I just didn't like the idea of leaving him all alone."

"No harm done," Song Lan said, and Xue Yang glared at him. Song Lan's lips twitched, and he added, "I've gotten used to Xingchen's tendency to - "

"Don't even say it," Xue Yang warned.

Xiao Xingchen touched his elbow, turning him towards the road, and said, "I think A-Qing was travelling towards Yi City when I found her; she likes crowds where she can pickpocket, so we should try the major towns on that road."

"I need to buy more candy for her," Xue Yang remembered, "And markets are good for stealing. And we can find an inn, and Song-daozhang can get a real bath."

"That sounds sensible," Song Lan said, and he looked at them both with that subtle smile that barely touched his mouth, but made his eyes warm and clear as afternoon sunlight. "Let's go."