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            By the time he was ten years old, Luo Binghe was already an orphan - twice - and living off the streets of Bai Shi. Surrounded by big plains and green grass, the small town was composed of mostly farmers that made their living by trading and selling their crops to the surrounding towns. Opportunities outside of being a farmhand were also present, but tended to be more limited and selective– the town barely had its own physician, and there were only so many tailors, butchers, and even musicians who could offer apprenticeships.

Luo Binghe, who was young, small, and malnourished, could make a living in the town if a farmer employed him. He was not new to hard labor, and while his job experience mostly consisted of household chores, he was an outstanding learner. Normally there was no way that he wouldn’t be able to at least make a living, even at the young age of ten, yet his lineage had cursed him.

Ten years ago, when his mother found him on the currents of the icy Luo River, gossip and tales of the witches had been spreading like wildfire. One, in particular, made everyone worry– a local farmer had overheard two witches talking about the upcoming birth of a new witch, a babe that would hold the power of the demons in the palm of their hands. But before they could call the witch hunters to kill them off, the witches had already disappeared from town. Not long after, Luo Binghe was found. 

As far as he knew, there had been a very wild and passionate conversation about him in the town hall to discuss what to do with the orphan/possible witch baby. Most people had voted to kill him while others argued that they should send him a town over to prevent being cursed if they spilled his blood. Only his mother, a maid working for one of the richest farmers in town, had mentioned the idea of keeping him.

Everyone had been angry and afraid to do such a thing. Let a witch live among them? No way! But she had insisted with twice their passion, and in the end, she managed to prevent Binghe’s exile or death. 

She had decided to take him, insisting that he was a regular baby like any other, not a witch, and raised him as her own. Somehow, she had also managed to keep her job and their little home.

What she hadn’t managed to get rid of was the constant prejudice that surrounded him. As he grew up, no kid wanted to play with him, and no adult ever felt the need to disguise their disdain for him. While he was loved by his mother, he was hated by the rest of the town.

He might be a witch. 

He was not able to call the wind or curse anyone, or turn his body into shadows, not that he would even if he knew how, but he did have an oddity. 

Wrapped around his pinky finger, a bright red string was stubbornly tied. He had been able to see the red string for as long as he had been alive, a constant little thing that he never thought odd for the first few years of his life. The realization didn’t come until he casually asked a pair of out-of-town kids if they too had the same little string. He would never forget the horror on their faces, or how they screamed as they ran away from him.

Luo Binghe had thought that their reactions were disproportionate. After all, the little string was harmless. It was just… there, swaying with his movements and the wind. He had tried to find what was on the other side, or maybe whom, but no matter how much he ran, he was never able to find the end.

When his mother died with no knowledge of the red string, it did not take long for the farmers to take back the house that was rightfully his and ignore his suffering. No one wanted to employ a witch, and he was too afraid to venture to an unknown town. 

During the first week, he slept out in the open in a patch of green grass that was owned by no man. He survived by rationing what little food he had been able to smuggle out of his home, and made do with the river close by. It was alright that first week, but when the second week rolled around, it was clear that he needed to find a stable source of food.

He did not choose to be a beggar. He had tried to gain work in any of the farms to no avail, then went to the other little stores in the town. The doctor, the tailors, anyone, but he remained jobless. On the third day with no food, he started to beg. 

He proved to be not a good beggar, for not many spared him even a glance, only those out of town that didn’t know who he was would throw a coin or two in his way. His bed remained that little green patch and a thin blanket, but as winter loomed over, he knew needed a better place to stay.

He had not expected to be saved, life had always been cruel, and if you were worthless then no one would lend you a hand. But luck was on his side that day.

From afar, the man looked just like anyone else. A tall man drowned in green robes and long hair, but as he approached Binghe, the delicate features and bright green eyes looking at him set the man apart from everyone else. Most notably, wrapped around his slender pinky finger, was a familiar red string. Following the red trail, he found that at the other end, it was Binghe who stood.

As the man got closer and closer, the red string between them got shorter and shorter. It did not tangle, it disappeared within itself. It was so enticing and mesmerizing that Binghe almost did not hear the man say, “Found you.”

He was swept off the floor and into slender but strong arms. Against his better judgment, he let the man carry him away from the town and into the far mountain.

            His name was Shen Qingqiu and he was a witch. Binghe almost ran out the door. 

            “I don’t eat children.” Shen Qingqiu grabbed the hem of his robes, impeding his escape. “No witch eats children or turns people into toads. Sit down.” Against his better judgment, again , Luo Binghe did as ordered.  

The witch let go of him and moved to pour tea on delicate porcelain cups. Luo Binghe frowned as he eyed the kettle with suspicious eyes. Shen Qingqiu had not made a fire, and yet steam escaped from within it. “You might make it explode if you keep staring at it,” the witch said. “There’s nothing to worry about, it’s just tea.”

“It’s not a normal kettle.” 

The witch laughed, his hand reaching across the table. It landed on Binghe’s matted hair. “Clever little man, but you are not quite right,” he said as he petted Binghe's hair with a casualness and familiarity that made him uncomfortable. “The kettle is normal, but I’ve cast a spell on it to boil the water without the need for fire. Come, drink before it gets cold.”

With suspicion, Binghe drank the tea. It had been a while since he’d had anything warm, and with the chilly nights out in the open, he wasn’t in a place to refuse. The warmth spread throughout his body, and the tea felt heavenly on his tongue. It tasted expensive. “Good. Now, do you know why I brought you here?”

Luo Binghe did not even know why he let himself be taken here, to this little cabin high on Qing Jing Mountain.  “You see this?” Shen Qingqiu signaled to the red string tied to his finger. Binghe nodded. “Do you know what it is?” A shake, at the biggest mystery in his life. “This is a red string of fate. Only witches are born with them.” Green eyes looked earnestly at him.

Binghe didn’t know what to say, or what Shen Qingqiu expected him to, so he only said, “Ah.”

Shen Qingqiu let out a defeated sigh. “You have no idea what I am talking about, what did your parents teach you?” At that, Binghe felt tears filling up his eyes at the mention of his recently deceased mother, trembling hands spilling tea on his clothes. 

“Ah, don’t cry!” The man rushed beside Binghe, a hand rubbing circles on his back. He should have probably shaken the hand off and gotten away from the witch, but the touch was so comforting. It was warm and it carried a sort of kindness he hadn’t experienced in the past two weeks.  

At least he managed to not spill any tears. “That’s good,” the witch said in a soft tone. “You are the child the town talks about, right? The witch kid?” Binghe’s response was a small nod. “I see. I didn’t know you existed; I should have gone there sooner.”

Luo Binghe turned his eyes to look at Shen Qingqiu. There was true regret in the man’s words that was reflected in his face, and it confused him to death. Why would he feel regretful about not finding Binghe earlier? 

His eyes fell to the red string looking for comfort, a habit that he had ingrained in himself at a young age, and that's when he concluded that the man had probably meant that he felt regretful for not finding Binghe because Binghe meant something to him.

His brow furrowed. He didn’t want someone else’s pity because of the red string. It felt like he had done nothing and earned nothing, like the witch beside him might only like him because he needed him or something. 

“I should have realized it sooner.” His eyes shifted back to Shen Qingqiu. “You were probably raised a non-witch, and you don’t know what all of this is about.” He moved his right hand, the one with the red string attached, and it lightly tugged on Binghe’s hand. 

“Witches are evil and mean. I am not a witch,” Binghe emphasized. He felt determined to prove that he was not the witch everyone had always thought he was, that he was a good, perfectly normal kid. When his eyes trailed back to the man– he needed to stop letting his eyes deviate so much– Shen Qingqiu was looking down at him with pity. 

He expected himself to be angry to be the receiver of such a gaze, but instead of telling the man to stop looking at him like that, Luo Binghe’s eyes swelled up with tears again. “You do cry a lot.” 

Two times is not a lot , he wanted to protest, but he kept his mouth shut. Panic started to rise in his throat, the lack of proper food making his head throb painfully. He swayed ever so slightly, but those green eyes caught even the slightest of his moves, and before he knew it, Luo Binghe was being laid down on a proper, fluffy bed. He felt warm all around, from the warmth of the sheets covering his body, over to his cheeks, which were cupped by Shen Qingqiu’s equally warm hands. “Sleep, child.”

He wanted to protest for the sake of protesting, but in the end, he closed his eyes.

            The next day Luo Binghe woke up to his stomach growling at the smell of food. He was tired, and would have liked to have slept some more, but the hunger was too much at this point. 

He sat on the bed, his eyes searching for the owner of the little cabin, but found no one in the room. There were sounds of sizzling and dishes clanking against each other past a pale green curtain where the kitchen was located. 

Soon, those curtains parted, and Shen Qingqiu walked into the room, two bowls floating before him. “You’re awake.” Binghe nodded, not feeling like talking right then. 

The witch walked across the room and sat beside him. He opened his hands, palms up, and the two bowls sat on top of them. “I hope the bed was comfortable.” He offered Binghe one of the bowls, which he grabbed with gusto, and briefly inspected the contents before diving in.

They ate in silence for the first few minutes before Shen Qingqiu said, “I did not do a good job at explaining myself yesterday.” The witch covered his lower face with a paper fan, an item he had not spotted on the man yesterday, and which he had summoned from across the room. “You are a witch, or at least you have the potential to be one. I want you to stay here as my apprentice, so I can instruct you in the arts and help you develop your magic.” 

Luo Binghe didn’t know what to do with those words. All his life, he had been treated like a nasty witch by almost everyone he met. He had been condemned as one even when he couldn’t do anything that everyone had accused him of. He had grown to fear the witches just as everyone in the town had.

His mother had always described him as a good kid with a kind heart, and while he couldn’t quite attest to his kindness– his mother would say he was humble– the only thing he had ever fostered hatred for was witches. He did not even hate the angry farmers or scared kids. At the end of the day, it was the existence of the witches that had doomed him.

And here he was now, in front of a witch, the only thing he hated, being fed and given the option to stay and have a roof over his head after being told he was one of them. He tried to summon all the hatred and fear he had for witches to say no, but he came up completely blank.

Nervously, he looked around the cabin at the fans decorating the opposite wall, the low table they should probably be eating at, and the bookshelves with thick tomes, before settling on Shen Qingqiu. 

The witch gave a gentle smile, encouraging him to accept. Luo Binghe liked the smile, and while he couldn’t quite trust this witch, this had been the only person to ever have extended a hand without Luo Binghe needing to beg or hide his identity. More than that, this was his only option if he wanted to survive winter. “Okay.”

A one-word answer was probably not what Shen Qingqiu had been hoping for, but for now it was enough. “Okay, then we shall start right away.” The witch placed his bowl on the nightstand. “This is the red string of fate,” he said as he tugged at the string for emphasis. “This red string can only appear on a witch, whether that witch has any knowledge of their power or not, and it connects a fated pair.” The words tugged at something inside his heart just like Shen Qingqiu did to his- no, their string. “We are soulmates. We were meant to meet and take care of each other.”

Shen Qingqiu smiled softly. That smile did something to Luo Binghe that he didn't quite understand. Everything was happening too fast and it was overwhelming, but he found himself thinking that living with Shen Qingqiu might not be so bad.

            Growing up, Shen Qingqiu had been through plenty of lessons regarding the red string of fate. He hadn’t been born with one, unlike his younger sister, who wore that thin string wrapped tightly around her little finger and stretched for eternity. He had been jealous at the time, but that same jealousy had dissolved over the years, and in the blink of an eye, Shen Qingqiu had spent most of his life with no string and no hope of getting one.

No string when born or during childhood meant one of two things: either his soulmate had not been born yet, or he had no soulmate. 

The pessimistic teenager he had been, he had decided that he had no fated soulmate, and thus moved forward with his lessons of witchcraft and adventures out in the wild without looking back.

Years later, out of nowhere, a string appeared on his finger one winter afternoon. Shen Qingqiu had been twenty years old, which meant that his soulmate had been born twenty years after him and had died twenty years after him in their last reincarnation (according to the theories). 

When it happened, he dropped his book and went outside. He ran through the cold and freezing air, following his red string and wanting to set eyes on his newly born fated one.

As it usually happened, no matter how much he ran, the string seemed to be endless. He had come to a stop an hour later, realizing how silly he was acting. They were a fated pair, and they would meet at some point in their lives. More importantly, his soulmate was a baby at the moment.

The thought, although a little weird depending on who you asked, sent warmth through his chest. He wanted to meet his soulmate even if they were a baby. He could take care of them, teach them their first spell, and get them toys and cute clothes. He would be like a third parent to the child, his duty was to protect them after all.

For the next few years, he hoped and waited so as to not tempt fate, to meet his soulmate. Their meeting never came in their early days, and Shen Qingqiu was left to wonder when they said their first word or took their first step. He wondered, if he had met them back then, whether Shen Qingqiu's name would have been their first word. 

He waited patiently while traveling from land to land, teaching in various institutes and gathering a crowd of esteemed disciples before he settled on Qing Jing Mountain. 

After a decade of lone adventures, he felt like finding a permanent place to stay. A small cozy cabin up in the mountains and away from the general population was a great place to practice his witchcraft and live a peaceful life.

For the upcoming year after he settled residence, he would only rarely go down the mountain and into Zun Shan for any supplies he needed. Most people knew he did not live in town, but since he always came down with a basket of vegetables in hand, they probably just deduced he was a farmer living in seclusion.

A month ago, he had gone down to Zun Shan to refill his supplies of his favorite tea and ink. When he had gotten to the small hut of the woman he usually buys from, he was informed that they no longer carried his favorite flavor. Dejected, he had asked if anyone else in town would have a stash of the stuff when she directed him to Bai Shi, the town on the other side of his cabin. 

Shen Qingqiu had never gone to that town after hearing of their rather strong hatred for witches. Zun Shan was no haven, they carried their own prejudices after all, but he had heard that Bai Shi was much worse.

He was there to live a peaceful life, not to get a sword through his chest. But tea was tea, and he wanted to stock up on as many of the savory leaves as he could in preparation for winter. With no other option, he made his way across the mountain the next day.

Bai Shi wasn’t too different from Zun Shan. Most people were farmers, most of the space was used for crops, most houses were miles from each other, and there was a main street by the town hall for the market. He had been strolling through the market stalls on the lookout for the tea vendor when he felt a tug on his hand. At first, he thought his sleeve had gotten stuck somewhere and dismissed it. When it happened again, Shen Qingqiu finally looked down.

His eyes fell to his finger, then to the red string that was still tugging lightly. It almost felt like the person on the other side was accidentally pulling rather than trying to catch his attention. 

He followed the string diligently with small and steady steps to avoid drawing any unwanted attention. Then, he finally caught sight of a small child sitting on the ground. 

Even from far away he could see the child’s dirty clothes, and a few steps later, he could smell the sweat and trash that clung to him. He did not mind as he lifted the child, his soulmate, into his arms and carried him away.

“Found you,” he said softly.

Now that he thought about it, it was a little weird the way he had come into town and just kidnapped a child off the streets in broad daylight. If Luo Binghe hadn’t been an orphan, something that he had not even stopped to even think about due to the state of his clothes, he could have gotten himself into a lot of trouble.

But it had worked out. He found his little soulmate and put a roof over his head and food in his belly, all while also taking the time to teach him about meditation and curses, magic, and the art of the sword. Shen Qingqiu was, at last, living his dream from ten years ago!

            Shen Qingqiu watched as Luo Binghe diligently wiped the floors in the kitchen. The green curtains he used as a door were parted, and the image of his apprentice was clear. The kid was so adorably concentrated on wiping the wood just right to get all the nonexistent grime off.

They had regarded each other with careful eyes those first weeks, or at least Binghe had. It was clear that the child did not trust him regardless of the bond, something that mildly annoyed Shen Qingqiu at first, but ultimately he was happy that Binghe didn’t simply lend his trust to anyone who dared to be decent to him. Shen Qingqiu’s mistrust was born out of his mild fear that the child would run away and get hurt by someone or something.

As time wore on, Luo Binghe’s trust came to him like a steady stream, and before long, the child was clinging to him and wearing a bright smile on his face more often than not. That’s when Shen Qingqiu learned that under that initial shock, doubt, and fear, Binghe was a little white sheep. He was so cute in that way that only the purest of souls could be. So polite, so kind, so fluffy with that hair of his, his soulmate was an adorable apprentice!

“Does Shizun need something?” And that title that he insisted on calling Shen Qingqiu. It’s too much, too cute. 

“I am fine, Binghe, come sit with me.” Before the child could protest, he continued, “the floors are clean, come sit for a small lesson.”

So far, he had only assigned Binghe to read tomes with small scale spells that he could conjure with his low level of magic. They were easy, and the small child had mastered those spells almost immediately, a sign that his aptitude was above the average witch child’s even with his lack of training.

Winter would end in a month or so, it was the perfect time to start practicing small nature binding spells. He was sure that Binghe would be able to master them with the same ease with which he learned the warming spell, but he also needed to be instructed in lessons of stealth and surveillance.

“Once winter ends, we will be able to take our lessons outside,” he said as Binghe sat down beside him. He beamed at Shen Qingqiu, probably excited to see the outside world for longer than just a few minutes. The warming spell could only be used in enclosed rooms, and while the individual warming spell was useful during this time, it took a lot more energy to be worth the hassle. “But when we do, we need to be extra careful with how we manage our magic and where. We don’t want to get caught.”

“You mean the witch hunters.” Always a step ahead.

“Precisely. What do you know about the witch hunters?”

“I’ve only seen them once in town.” Shen Qingqiu nods in encouragement, looking at the way Binghe mindlessly played with his curly hair. “They all dress in black, and they work in big numbers. They carry a lot of weapons. Swords, bows, torches, pitchforks, anything that could kill a witch.” Binghe nervously looked at him. “They said they don’t know how to effectively kill a witch, so they usually cut the bodies into parts and set them on fire to stop them from growing their limbs back or reattaching them.”

A shiver runs down Shen Qingqiu’s spine, a grimace on his face. There were hundreds of witch hunter mobs and groups from north to south and east to west. All witches, be they rogue witches or witches that live or work in groups, have always maintained their secrets behind closed doors and away from regular humans. Their secrecy made rumors easy to spread and hard to stop, but also ensured that no one knew what they could do or how to kill them. At least none that did not work with them.

Thus, it was this same mixture of rumors and secrets that had demanded the foundation of the first witch hunters. Regular people who, in the name of protecting their families and communities, gathered groups to find, and more often than not, kill them. 

They all had different methods of doing so. Some of them believed that burning was the only way to kill a witch, while others decided that dismemberment was a safer choice, and for others still, beheading was the way to go.

Witches, regardless of the magic living inside of them, had human hearts just like everyone else. 

“Yes, all of the witch hunters are more or less like that, though some are more merciful than others. There might not be a witch hunter mob living near Qing Jing Mountain, but regardless, we always need to be extra careful when we use magic outside. We need to be able to tell if anyone besides us is watching, and make sure that our magic stays within the perimeters of control that we wish to use. Do you understand?” A nod. “Good, this is an important lesson for the safety of any witch.”

“But Shizun, the townspeople say the witch hunters were created because witches were doing unspeakable things to the regular folk… Is- is that true? Or were they just afraid of the things they couldn’t do?”

As expected of his student, he always had the right question to ask. “Witches can be good or bad, just like any of the regular folk. Not all witches will treat you like I did. Some might be indifferent to your pain or need for help, some others might hate you on sight.” Reaching forward, he patted Binghe’s head. “It is all the same.”

            “This is a good spot.” Luo Binghe came to a stop just before bumping into Shen Qingqiu’s back. Spring had arrived, and they were finally able to go outside to practice some new spells. Binghe was thrilled- in the last three months, he had been making incredible progress on his magic. He could boil water in the kettle at the perfect temperature for Shizun’s tea and move light objects from one surface to another. He had learned how to prepare witch medicine for colds and fevers, how to summon light in the darkness, and much more.

Unsurprisingly, he found himself enjoying the lessons and all the new tricks Shizun had taught him. What he had been afraid of, he now looked forward to. He enjoyed the quiet lessons and watching Shizun do magic in front of him. It was a pleasure that he would have forever ingrained in his brain, one that he wished to savor forever.

“You have a steady blow as it is, but you need to learn how to increase its strength and how to direct its precise direction.” They were standing in a clear patch of grass. The surrounding trees acted as a natural cover from any prying eyes, the wind blew softly in the perfect conditions for manipulating it. “Stand right here.”

Binghe scrambled to the middle of the patch and glanced up at Shen Qingqiu with excited eyes. As much as he liked the demonstrations of magic and the feeling of energy flowing through his body, nothing could quite compare to Shizun’s proud praise when Binghe made more progress. 

“Take a deep breath, yes, just like that, and concentrate on the wind. It is soft just like the wind you’ve been practicing with, but it’s more abundant here, can you feel it?” Yes. “Choose a target, maybe a tree or a bush.  I want you to take the wind under your control and blow. You should hit your target and nothing else.”

Binghe tried and failed the first time, as well as the next three times before Shen Qingqiu came forward to show him a demonstration, all while making comments on Binghe’s stance. 

Luo Binghe took the advice to heart, and after two more tries, was able to move the leaves of a nearby tree without shaking any of the ones nearby. A wide smile appeared on his face as he turned back to look at his teacher. “Shizun did you-”

A hand covers his mouth. Shen Qingqiu was looking down at him with brows furrowed and head tilted. “Do you hear that?” he asks softly. 

Faintly, so much that he could barely hear, the rustle of leaves and branches could be heard. It was not the same sound of the wind breaking through the leaves, but rather the sound of something solid walking through them. Tales of monsters, witch hunters, and evil witches rushed through his mind, rendering him immobile. Whatever, or whoever, it was, they were getting closer.

Moments later, a small ball of white fur jumped out of the bushes. They remained silent as the bunny approached them, and the rustling sound stopped. 

They laughed the incident off together when they got home, but when night came and Binghe was lying on his bed, he couldn’t stop thinking about what could have happened if it hadn’t just been a bunny. He promised himself to never make such a mistake.

            It didn’t occur to him until months later that the red string tying Shen Qingqiu and him together meant that they were fated lovers. When it did, his face turned five shades of red, and he almost passed out.

He just about choked on the water he was drinking, making a mess in the kitchen that he had to clean up, but his mind was preoccupied the whole time. He had been living with Shen Qingqiu for about a year, and even though he was too young to be really thinking about it, the idea of marrying Shen Qingqiu didn’t sound bad. He liked it. He liked the idea of marrying the only person in the world that had shown him kindness besides his mother. 

During dinner, he brought it up. “If we are connected,” he said, softly making waves in his string that drifted to the other end, “does that mean that we’re going to get married?” He earnestly looked at Shen Qingqiu as the man froze mid-bite. “I’ve been doing some reading, and that’s what it means, right? That we’re fated lovers, and that we'll be married one day.”

Slowly, Shizun lowered his chopsticks. “Binghe…” the tone is soft yet stern. “We cannot see what the future will hold for us- no, let me finish,” he said as Binghe opened his mouth to interject.  “We don't know what will happen in the future, and making plans that far out will only bring disappointment.” 

Binghe must have made some type of face because before long, Shen Qingqiu was patting the top of his head. The gesture, one that brought him confusion the first time that it happened, had become a habit, one that now always brought Binghe comfort and content. 

“Don’t make that face, I don’t want you to be sad.” Binghe knows, but the thought of not marrying or being with Shizun just didn’t sit right with him. 

“But I want to marry-”

Soft lips placed a kiss against his forehead. “Binghe, I can’t marry you.” So soft, so cruel. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you. Hey, look at me. That’s good. Listen to me, you are my student and I am your teacher. I can’t see you as anything but what you are, my young disciple. It would be inappropriate and abusive if I were to encourage your ideas.” Binghe opened his mouth to protest, but Shen Qingqiu cut him off. “The red string does not strictly symbolize romantic love. It means we are a fated pair, that our paths will cross in all of our lives, and that we will love each other. Is that love strictly romantic? No, that’s not the only kind of love.”

“The books don’t say that.” It is a weak protest, he is scrambling for anything to change Shizun’s mind.

“Don’t believe everything the books say,” the witch chastised. “The red string of fate is a mystery regardless of all the books out there. We don’t know much about it besides the basics, and even those are highly contested.” He already knew this, all the books he had read differed in one way or another. “It is not certain that the red string is exclusively a sign of fated romantic love, and every witch will only tell you what they want to believe.” 

 “And what does Shizun believe?” Binghe knew that even his master was likely not above more or less believing what he wanted, but regardless of what the books said, his master’s opinion was far more important. 

“Unconditional love, regardless of the nature of the relationship.” His words were spoken with the same matter-of-fact tone that he used during their lessons. 

Shen Qingqiu made a gesture, and Binghe moved closer, the arms of the other wrapping around his back. It was a comforting hug. “Regardless of what life will bring us, I will still love you. Is that not good enough?”

It was and it wasn’t, but he nodded anyway.

            Life went on even as he mended his broken heart. Luo Binghe, ever the stubborn kid-now-teen he was, took his master's words to heart, though not in the way Shen Qingqiu intended. Instead of giving up on his dream of marrying the older witch, the firm ‘no’ had awakened a determination in him that wouldn’t give up until Shen Qingqiu, at the very least, considered him as a candidate for a romantic life partner.

He knew it wouldn’t happen anytime soon- he was on his way to fifteen and still too young for Shizun to even look at him as a man. He would not waste his time with outright romantic gestures that would only result in Shizun raising his walls even further. 

No, instead he would focus on intel. What was Shizun’s favorite color? Favorite song? Did he prefer walks during the night for sightseeing, or did he prefer the warm sunlight against his skin?

He took all the little details that composed Shizun and memorized them carefully. Slowly but surely, as he aged and became the man he was meant to be, he would  use all those little details to his advantage to woo his beloved.

Even now, as he tried to concentrate on one of his fire exercises, he couldn’t help but be distracted by the thought of the perfect date he would arrange for Shen Qingqiu once he was old enough to court him. The wind rustled the nearby leaves and  echoed through the  field, blowing through the flame between his fingers, which he was supposed to swirl around as practice, briefly shaking his control. The swirl became erratic, and Luo Binghe quickly extinguished the flame to prevent a fire.

Signing, he kicked some of the leaves piled under his boots. He was back to the little spot he had visited with Shizun to practice his wind control all those years ago. The small yet comfortable place had become the spot for his training, and now the formation of trees and flowers had become as familiar as the back of his hand.

He frowned and dejectedly sat against the trunk of the nearest tree. He had come to realize that it was futile to work on his magic once his brain was filled with romantic scenarios and the smile of the kind man who deserved the world. 

“Already tired?” 

“Shizun!” he exclaimed, a hand pressed against his fast beating heart. He hadn’t even heard Shen Qingqiu approaching him. “No! I was just too distracted! I’m sorry.” His cheeks turned red from embarrassment. “I will practice an extra hour to make up for it.”

Shizun rolled his eyes and shook his head in a way that said ‘silly child.’ “No need. I came to take you back home anyways.”

Now with curious eyes, Luo Binghe quizzically looked at Shen Qingqiu. His master was kind and patient, yet he was very strict when it came to his teaching. He never let Luo Binghe run away from his studies and always encouraged the teen to expand his learning as much as possible. It was weird he was being taken back to the cabin an hour earlier than expected during their outside practice time.

“A lesson?” he asked. Lesson or practice, he didn’t mind the studying and was always happy to spend time with Shizun.

“No, I have a surprise for you.” Luo Binghe’s curiosity increased tenfold. “Don’t act as if I don’t spoil you rotten.” Shizun scoffed, soft and playful.

They walked together up the mountain in silence, Binghe beaming with excitement and mild embarrassment. It was true that Shen Qingqiu was very generous and spoiled him at any given opportunity. If Binghe wanted a book, it would appear on their bookshelf the next day. If he commented that he missed the sweets from downtown, Shizun would take him to the market. He tried not to be greedy and take advantage of this privilege, but he admitted that it was useful at times.

The red string softly waved between them as they walked. Luo Binghe had learned that even though the string was not physical, nor could be disturbed by nature, he could manipulate it somewhat. If he wanted to, he could will the string to shrink when he was within its proximity. Their hands would be forced against one another. They might intertwine, and if Shizun did not notice, he might take his hand and walk them the rest of the way.

Of course, he didn't dare to do it, so they walked side by side in blissful silence.

When they got home, a shining long sword was sitting on the table, and Luo Binghe let out a small squeak. It was beautiful. Shining stainless steel, an intricate golden swirl pattern on the hilt, a green tassel tied at its end, and engraved on its hilt, the words “Zheng Yang.” 

“Well, are you gonna take it?”

He enthusiastically nodded and took the sword. It was heavy in his hand, a sign that he was still too young to bear a true sword like this one, but he was already imagining wielding it on the road as he and Shen Qingqiu traveled throughout the land. It was perfect. Small tears gathered in the corner of his eyes, and it was Shizun who wiped them away with his finger. “Is it that bad? I can always take the sword back if Binghe dislikes it.”

Luo Binghe rapidly shakes his head. “No! It’s perfect! Thank you so much, Shizun!” He attempted to hug him, but the sword got in the way. 

“Careful! Don’t go waving it around!” Shizun lightly scolded him and guided the sword back to the table. It only took two seconds before Binghe was all over him. “So sticky.” Even when he was buried against the many layers of fabric, Binghe could see the smile on his master as Shen Qingqiu hugged him back.

Outside, the sound of rustling leaves persisted.

            If there was something that Luo Binghe had learned about his soulmate, it was that, despite Shizun’s kindness and warmth, Shen Qingqiu had no friends. He had a sister, a fellow witch who was off traveling the icy lands in the south and whom Binghe had never met before. She sent letters every now and then. Shizun would send a letter back and make no mention of her afterward.

When Binghe had asked, Shen Qingqiu responded, “We are not very talkative.”

It seemed like the two siblings lived peaceful lives away from each other without building any sort of resentment or strain in their relationship. They were five years apart and had been somewhat close in their early lives, yet did not feel the need to arrange a holiday every year. Luo Binghe found this a little strange. If his mother was still alive and he was living away from her, he would try to pay her visits as much as he could.

If Shen Qingqiu barely bothered to keep in contact with his sister, then he practically ignored everyone else. He had no close friends and made no mention of any friends either. He was on speaking terms with the merchants in Zun Shang, but even then he did not refer to them as anything more than acquaintances.

“But why don’t you have any friends?” Binghe inquired one day. “Weren’t you lonely before?”

Shizun had been annoyed at being interrupted from his reading, but he put down his book to respond anyway. “I used to travel from city to city teaching at any school or institute that would take me,” he said. “It’s hard to make friends when you don’t have a permanent home to stay in. Exchanging letters becomes harder and harder with time, so I unintentionally steered away from becoming too dependent on others.”

“Weren’t you sad?”

Shizun thought about it. “No,” he concluded. “I never felt alone or sad whilst I traveled alone. I liked the quiet and tranquility more than gathering a collection of friends in every city. Oh, don’t look sad, I wasn’t lonely.” Then, “You don’t have friends either, Binghe.”

“I have Shizun!”

“I am hardly capable of being your friend, I’m too old to keep up with modern interests.” Luo Binghe aggressively shook his head.

“But we are friends, we can be friends,” Binghe stubbornly said. “When I grow up, you will stop looking at me as if I was a child. I’ll be more qualified to be your friend than anyone else.”

Shizun laughed, a quiet beautiful little laugh that narrowed his eyes into slits. “You will.” He patted Binghe’s head. “We were meant to be best friends, weren’t we?” He would have inquired more about his life before he met Luo Binghe, but Shizun’s kind words were enough to distract him.

A man with no close family or friends, that’s why Luo Binghe had been so surprised when a group of three witches - a woman and two men - knocked on their door three weeks later. He hadn’t known they were witches at first, and the first thing Luo Binghe had done was panic, thinking that the witch hunters had found them.

Before he could do anything like reach for his sword to try and defend his home, Shen Qingqiu’s voice spoke from behind him. “What are you doing here?” He did not sound hostile, just indifferent.

“Shen Qingqiu, we came here to speak with you,” the woman said.

As Shen Qingqiu let them inside, Luo Binghe was sent to the kitchen to make tea for their guests. Thanks to the thin fabric separating the rooms, he was able to hear their conversation.

“It’s been years since we last heard from you, Qingqiu,” one of the men said. “We’ve been trying to find you for over a year.”

“I am terrible at keeping contact when my home always changes depending on my mood,” Shizun responded. “Please forgive me for all the trouble that I have caused you, Feng Ru.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for, although keeping in touch with one of the witch networks would be highly appreciated for the next time you vanished.”

“I will keep that in mind.What’s the reason for your arduous search for this lowly teacher?”

A scoff. “We’re here to talk about the Witch Covenant.”

It is then that Luo Binghe stepped out of the kitchen with a tray in hand. He strode over to the low table and poured tea for every member until finally, he made a cup for himself and sat beside Shizun.

“Who is this kid? One of your disciples?” Asked the other man. Binghe wanted to add ‘and his soulmate’ but Shizun spoke before he could.

“Yes, his name is Luo Binghe.” Shizun did not add any more information. “Since you are here to talk about the Witch Covenant, then it will be a very short conversation.” Shen Qingqiu made a gesture as if to say, ‘go on.’ 

“We are hoping you will join the Witch Covenant. Your vast knowledge in elemental magic and martial arts will greatly strengthen our guard.” He couldn’t see it, but he could picture the way Shizun was frowning. “We are finally gathering enough people to create our guard and protect our community from the witch hunters. Our fort is three days from this mountain, families are moving in, and they need a knowledgeable teacher to guide them. Soon we are going to elect our leader, and we hope to extend our territory as more people arrive.”

There was a long pause before Shizun responded. “I will have to decline your offer, Xiong Guiren.” Lifting his cup of tea, Shizun let the light steam hover over his nose, inhaling the sweet smell of lavender. “I am not interested in joining the Witch Covenant.You know how I feel about centralizing our people and establishing a hierarchy. I won’t partake in it.”

Angrily, the female witch loudly set her cup down on the table. Startled by the sudden shift in tone, Luo Binghe leaned closer to Shizun. “Wu Meifeng, please restrain yourself from breaking my set. There is no need to make a ruckus.” 

“So stubborn, don’t you see this is the only way we can protect ourselves!”

“As witches, we do need each other for protection against the witch hunters, but gathering our strength in one place will only serve to make us look more threatening to outsiders. Not to mention, that the witch hunters will know where we are at all times.” Shizun spoke calmly. “If a sort of government is established, then whoever governs will want to dictate what we can and cannot do, there will be laws beyond common sense that will create a vast displeasure for many witches.”

Luo Binghe knows that Shizun always knows best, but if he could go off just the things that he heard the group saying, the Witch Covenant sounded like a great idea. It would mean order and protection for any witch that joins, even if that meant they would all gather in one place. 

“Laws will be placed, but they’ll be good laws for the betterment of all witches. Qingqiu, you know that it is a good idea. You just don’t like Wen Fu,” said Xiong Guiren.

Now it was Shizun who loudly slammed his cup down. “That’s right, I don’t like Wen Fu and her tyrannical ideals. The Witch Covenant is her idea, and she will want herself to be the utmost authority. I would rather jump off a cliff than be in her covenant.”

“Stubborn!”

“Enough!” Shizun stands up, teacup abandoned and cold. “I am happy to see you all again after so long, but my disciple needs to study, and for that he needs silence.” The three witches stood up, receiving the message that their welcome had expired.

They all walked over to the door, Shizun ushering the witches out and Binghe trailing behind him. “If you change your mind-”

“I won’t.”

“If your disciple-”

Shizun closed the door in their faces and waited until the sound of the witches’ footsteps disappeared down the path before he turned to look at Luo Binghe. “You do have studies to complete.” He guided them to Binghe’s desk and pulled a scroll from within his robes. “You are doing wonderful in your elemental studies, but you still have to review your theory analysis assignment-”

“Shizun, who were those people?” His cheeks shamefully reddened. “Binghe apologizes for his rudeness, but he is too curious to concentrate on studies at the moment.”

Shizun sighs in defeat. “Binghe should learn to keep his curiosity in check, but this is a matter that he should learn sooner rather than later. Let’s sit down.” He let Shen Qingqiu take the chair whilst Binghe took the floor. He could get an extra chair from across the room, but that would mean wasting time. 

As expected of the highly intelligent teacher, it took him no time at all to form an impromptu lesson.

“Wen Fu was one of my very first disciples. She is a very powerful and brilliant witch. A few years back, she came up with the idea of the Witch Covenant, a sort of safe settlement for witches to live in a community and in plain light amidst non-witches,” Shizun explains. “It’s a great idea. It would be a safe haven for all of us.We wouldn’t need to keep looking over our shoulders every second, and we would be able to practice our magic freely. Places like that already exist, but they are small and prone to being attacked, so witches prefer to stay hidden and in small groups.” 

“If Shizun thinks the Witch Covenant is a great idea, then why did he refuse?”

“Because of Wen Fu herself. She is brilliant, but she also has a lot of ideas that go against my principles. For one, she wants to establish herself as the ruler of the Witch Covenant on the sole merit that it was her idea. She is power hungry, and leaving the community’s members with no choice in who leads them rubs me the wrong way.” Another sigh.”Secondly, she wants to form her guard solely from demonic witches. Do you know what those are, Binghe?”

He enthusiastically nods. “Yes, they get their power from resentful energy. Their magic  feeds on a witch's living essence, and it can drive them mad or to death.”

Shen Qingqiu nods, earning Binghe some head pats. “Binghe is correct. It is a very powerful kind of magic- one lone wielder could take down a dozen witches, but it inevitably hurts the wielder. Wen Fu wants to build an army of demonic witches to protect her covenant.” Taking a random book from the desk, Shizun slides his fingertips along the edge. It was a sort of habit that Binghe had just recently discovered. “She wants to encourage the practice of such powerful and destructive magic, but what will happen if her army gets too caught up and the magic renders them mad? They would be so weak that the witch hunters would race through the covenant, or the witches themselves would kill their people before going after the regular population. It is not much safer than the witch hunters.”

Shizun disapprovingly shakes his head. “If I join, then I will encourage the practice of that magic by association and be involved in the making of a ticking bomb that goes against my own principles and teachings.” A flash of darkness passed through Shizun’s eyes before it disappeared, a sign of how important this conversation was. “Of course, I don’t want Binghe to be in harm's way either.” Soft fingertips lightly explore Binghe’s cheek. “Those witches from earlier will come by from today on, trying to convince me to join them or trying to convince you to go with them.” 

The thought of leaving Shizun behind to join some person’s guard who he had never met before was unthinkable. “Binghe has to promise me that regardless of what they offer you, you won’t go with them.”

He felt horrified to be asked such a thing, Shizun shouldn’t need any reassurance. Luo Binghe wouldn’t leave his side ever, and no matter what offers of wealth and power they gave, no witch would make him leave nor fall to evil practices.

He nodded earnestly. “This discipline will never abandon Shizun for anyone else!” His statement provoked a smile on Shen Qingqiu’s face, a feat he proudly beamed for.

“Good boy, but you also have to promise me you will never practice demonic magic.” Shizun was still looking fondly at him,  an edge of sternness on his face. “Do you promise, Binghe?”

“Yes, Shizun! Your disciple will never practice demonic magic!” He meant it, anything short of that would mean disrespecting the man that had given him so much.

Shen Qingqiu looked happier. “Good, now let’s go back to your studies.” In turn, Binghe whined, earning him an eye roll.

            As Shizun had said, the three witches came back over the course of the next three weeks. They came at random times of the day, sometimes in their original trio, other times in a duo, and every now and then a single one of them would approach their cabin.

Shizun, who was the epitome of grace and good manners, would invite them in every time and have Binghe serve them tea. The witches would try to coax Shizun into joining the covenant with books, a private house, glittery trinkets, and other objects that Binghe knew wouldn’t make Shizun happy. Every now and then they would try their tactics on him too.

His master would decline all the things offered to himself and chose to only accept the gifts offered to Binghe- a new robe made of silk, a beautiful comb for his hair, a book that will help his studies- before ushering the covenant witches out of their home, tired of the persistent covenant talk.

Luo Binghe would rather ignore the knocks on their door if it meant making Shizun happier, but the one time he had tried Shizun had looked at him disappointedly. 

“I didn’t raise you to disrespect your elders.” Luo Binghe had moped the whole day until Shizun accepted his apology that same evening. He was now waiting for the day Shen Qingqiu dropped the formalities and instructed him to keep the door shut.

Today, there had been no sign of the witches from the covenant. Shen Qingqiu had decided to take advantage of the absence of their unwanted guests and had gone down the mountain to Zun Shang to buy some of their necessary supplies while Binghe tended to the cabin and studied for the upcoming test.

Luo Binghe had cleaned the kitchen, changed the bedding, and polished the floors before settling down with pen and paper beside his open book, head down and mind concentrated to make Shen Qingqiu proud of his scores. 

By the time he emerged from his studying, he realized that Shen Qingqiu wasn’t home. The sun was high in the sky and his master’s absence was like a loud tiger roading on his ear. It was still early, but Shizun had been gone for hours, way longer than the usual trip.

Binghe took a deep breath to calm down his nerves, busying his mind with polishing the wood again and dusting Shen Qingqiu’s collection of fans, all the while telling himself that Shizun was a strong witch and that he could take care of himself way better than any protection Binghe could offer him at the moment. 

By the time he finished making dinner and his master's absence was crossing the line of sanity, Luo Binghe was ready to storm down the mountain to look for him. Maybe Shizun was injured on his way back or he had gotten lost, or, even worse, those witches had kidnapped him and taken him to the covenant.

He set their dinner on the table and hurriedly grabbed his sword, tired of waiting. He was ready to go running down the slope of the mountain and scream for his soulmate at the top of his lungs. Determined, he opened the door with a loud bang and found Shen Qingqiu on the other side.

His master’s body collided with his as Binghe practically launched himself at him. “Binghe!” There was a nervousness in his voice, a kind that instantly sent a shiver of fear down Binghe’s spine. It was different than the usual nervousness from when Shizun broke Binghe's favorite cup, it was the kind that signaled urgency.

“Shizun?”

Shen Qingqiu did not respond. He pushed Binghe back inside their cabin, locking their door with a piece of wood sitting by the door, the one that they had never needed to use in the past. 

“Binghe, everything is going to be alright.” His tone indicated that nothing was going to be alright.

When Shen Qingqiu turned back, Luo Binghe could see the state that his master was in. His robes were unruly, torn at different angles, and covered in mud and blood. “Shizun is injured!” He fussed over Shen Qingqiu, hurt and anger reflected in his voice.

Before he could take a look at the possible injury, his hands were shaken off. “I am fine, it is Binghe who will not be unless we hurry up.” 

Confused, Binghe followed him into their shared room. Moderately sized and with two beds inside, their room lacked lavish decorations in exchange for piles of books lying around. 

Shizun barreled inside, leaving Binghe to observe the way his master aggressively opened his thick oak chest and rummaged inside from a sizable distance. 

“Shizun, what is happening?” His heart was thumping with fear, the sound so loud he would not be surprised if Shizun could hear it. His soulmate was not doing anything to explain his odd behavior, a clear sign that something was very very wrong.

“Binghe, everything is going to be alright.” Turning back, Binghe recognizes the witch binding cable in the elder's hand. It was thick and red, and it contained a special spell that was able to suppress a witch's magic.

He takes a step back. “Shizun?” 

“Everything is going to be okay.” Before he could do something like run away or cast a spell, Shen Qingqiu was over him, wrapping the binding cable around his back and arms. Binghe, who was getting incredibly scared, squirmed around trying to escape. “Shizun! Wait!”

“Hush.” It worked. “I said everything was going to be okay, Binghe.” The cable wrapped around his wrist and a second time around his ankles. In minutes, Luo Binghe was all tied up and unable to move. Tears had started to run down his cheeks, and he pitifully looked at Shizun for further reassurance, and if possible, an explanation.

“Shizun, why?” His voice was raw and broken. For the second time in his life, he felt scared of Shen Qingqiu.

“Oh, Binghe…” Fingertips wiped the tears off his face, “I am sorry, but this is for your own good. It’s going to be okay, alright? There’s nothing to be scared of.”

Except that there was, and he didn’t know exactly what it was. To his utter horror, the second time Shen Qingiu rummaged through the chest was for a piece of clean, soft fabric. He didn't need to ask any questions, it was clear what Shen Qingqiu meant to do.

“I’m sorry,” Shizun said before he tied the fabric around his head and his mouth, rendering Luo Binghe wordless. The silence stretched over when it was done, Shizun’s eyes shining as he looked down at the pitiful image he had created. 

The alarm of their protective wards made them jump, the sound shaking Shen Qingqiu from his trance, and Binghe looked around for any possible threat.

Binghe couldn’t walk thanks to the way he was tied, in fact, it was hard to even keep his balance when his feet were pressed together, so Shen Qingqiu had to pick him up as if he was carrying a bride to take him to their living room.

If Binghe wasn’t in such a distressing position, he would have ogled over the display of strength shown by his master, who had picked him up as if Binghe was weightless. 

“They’re coming.” The sounds of footsteps and angry screams finally reached his ears, and they were getting increasingly louder. Binghe didn’t need to be told who was coming. A master with no friends and no family. If it was not the covenant, then it was something worse.

Their protective wards were harmless for all creatures, they were used more as an alarm. It meant that Shizun would have to face those who were coming for them. He tried to scream at Shen Qingqiu, demanding the cables to be untied so he could wield his sword and fight alongside him. The witch hunters were coming and they needed to leave before they got there. His pleas went unanswered again.

Shen Qingqiu peeled the rug off the floor, revealing the little secret compartment under it. Shizun usually stored their most valuable possessions there. It was small but big enough to fit a small person. His eyes widened. No way, there was no way Shizun was going to do this!

Shen Qingqiu was in front of him, warm hands cradling his cheeks. “I will handle this matter.” His voice is soft, but there was a slight touch of fear the witch couldn’t contain. “I will make sure they leave and everything will be okay, just be quiet and be a good boy.”

Calmly, Shen Qingqiu placed a kiss on his forehead. "Remember, none of this is your fault." 

Luo Binghe was lowered inside the secret compartment, his slender and short body barely fitting in the dark space. Binghe’s eyes never left Shizun until the rug was placed on top and he was engulfed in complete darkness. As the shouts increased and the sound of their door being knocked down emerged, Binghe wrapped his hand around their red string. Shizun knew best, Luo Binghe knew, but for some reason, it felt as if Shizun had tried to lie to him. He did know best, but that did not mean he had done what Binghe wanted.

“Where is the witch!” Shouted a man. The witch hunters were inside their cabin, their heavy steps telling Binghe that there were at least five. 

“No witch inhabits this place,” Shen Qingqiu responds, his voice coming just above where Binghe was hidden.

“Lies! A local saw that witch kid distort the air and create fire!”

“No witch lives here. The girl must have been confused.”

“You must be his master, a witch too!”

The next sounds were muffled by the ring of his ears, the heavy steps as the witch hunters came down on Shen Qingqiu, swords clashing against each other, and the thuds of grown men and women falling to the ground. He couldn’t see anything, but he could imagine Shen Qingqiu gracefully swinging his sword left and right, dodging attacks and injuring his enemies, their vases and ceramic clutter breaking, Binghe’s food on the floor.

Shen Qingqiu was a master of sword fighting, but witch hunters attacked in mobs, too many for even a single witch. Luo Binghe let himself hope, and prayed for his master to defeat the witch hunters, but he knew that that wouldn’t be the case.

It was proof of their shared bond and Binghe’s adoration and familiarity for his soulmate, that helped him recognize the sound of Shizun’s body falling down to the floor. There was a struggle, and then the sound of a man choking on his own blood, frantic movement, then nothing. 

“The witch is dead!” Declared one of the witch hunters.

The mob cheered, a cruel and vile sound that ingrained itself in Luo Binghe’s memory before he inevitably passed out.

            He had tried to get out as soon as he woke up. His hands were tightly tied up to prevent them from sliding off, so he had to try and push the door with his head.

He couldn’t even lift the door, there was a dead weight sitting on top that he couldn’t move. Shizun’s blood had long slipped past the thick rug down the door, small droplets landing on his face. When he got too tired and had a headache from all the banging, Luo Binghe slumped down in the compartment, his body slack as he hopelessly stared up at the door. 

He must have passed out a second time because when he woke up again, it was to the sound of Wu Meifeng and some other lady frantically chattering with one another in low voices. Recognizing one of them, Luo Binghe bumped his head against the door over and over again. This time it felt lighter.

“What the hell is that?” Wu Meifeng said.

“It’s coming from- under-” There was shuffling, the rug was removed, and the door was open, rays of light blinding him. 

“It’s Shen Qingqiu’s disciple.” They helped him out of the tight space, removing the ropes around his feet and chest. The ropes had been tied tightly around him, but his thick clothes had acted as a cushion so that his skin was unharmed, a detail that of course wouldn't have bypassed Shizun.

Rolling his sore wrists around, Luo Binghe took off his gag. The soft fabric was covered in saliva, snot, and damped in salty tears from all of his crying. He tossed it aside, and using the sleeve of his robe, wiped away the remaining dampness off his chin.

Finally, someone asked the obvious question. "What happened to you?”

Luo Binghe ignored her. Now that his eyes were adjusted to the light, his eyes scanned the room and came to a stop at the couch. There was a very familiar figure laying on it, pristine green robes now a muddy brown, hair tousled in all directions, and limbs lying unmoved.

His heart threatened to spill out of his chest, and when he desperately set eyes on the body's equally unmoving hand, he found the red thread sharply cut off. 

The color was a deeper red, close to the color of red on their floor where a puddle of blood was drying, and the end was frayed as if it had worn down. 

“Shizun!” He shambled to his feet, legs wobbling as he ran to the couch. He did not look at his own hand, knowing that his string would be in an equally if not worse condition. Cut, their bond broken, and red as clotted blood. 

“Shizun, please wake up!” He screamed at the dead body, hands grabbing Shizun’s shoulder, shaking the motionless teacher. “Please, you said it was going to be okay!”

A pair of hands grabbed his shoulder trying to pull him away. Luo Binghe slapped them off. “Shizun! Why is our string broken! Please wake up!” Fat tears run down his cheeks, his breath coming in ragged short breaths, his lungs burning. 

After some more back and forth, Wu Meifeng managed to shift him off Shizun. He stood by his master’s side rather than on top of him, red string hand grabbing his master’s. 

“Luo Binghe, what happened?” There is an edge on her voice devoid of sympathy, she was getting impatient with his show of grief.

Between tears, Binghe gave them a rundown of what had happened yesterday. How Shen Qingqiu had stuffed him inside their secret compartment and fought the witch hunters. Of how the witch hunters had won. By the end, his hiccups had subsided, but he still felt as empty as he had ever been.

Wu Meifeng sighed, a melancholy had begun to weigh on her shoulders at some point. “I told him he should have come with us. It was safer.” 

“No!” Binghe interrupts her, eyes filled with anger. “Shizun didn’t want to go! It wasn’t his fault! It was those witch hunters' fault that Shizun is… is…” 

He can't say it, not yet. Saying it would mean accepting Shizun's death, and even though the pale body lay in front of him, Binghe was stuck in a made-up memory where Shizun had gotten home unharmed and happy. He had gotten Binghe a bag of his favorite sweets and had bought himself a new book for his collection. Luo Binghe had attended to his needs, taking the bags from his hands and ushering Shizun to the table where they ate dinner while Binghe told Shizun what he had done all day. They cleaned before retiring to bed together. Binghe asked Shizun if he could sleep in his bed as he used to when he was younger, and Shizun said something about Binghe being all grown up but would nod anyway.

Luo Binghe would have climbed beside his master, familiar arms wrapped around his body in an innocent hug, despising his desires. And they would have fallen asleep in bed together, safe and unharmed.

If he ignored Wu Meifeng and the other intruders, he could almost believe that it happened and that this was just a nightmare. He would wake up at any minute and Shizun would wipe away his tears. 

Wu Meifeng looked like she wanted to argue back, but it was the other lady who spoke first. 

“Shen Qingqiu didn’t want to come to the Witch Covenant, and his death is not his fault. What Luo Binghe said is correct, the witch hunters are the ones who are responsible for this cruel murder.” Luo Binghe nods, feeling relief that someone here could understand. “We need to alert the covenant and transport Shen Qingqiu’s body for a proper burial. He will be buried in our cemetery.”

“NO!” He screamed. “Shizun didn't want to be part of the covenant alive, and he definitely didn’t want to be buried there!”

“Then where do you want him to be buried, you insolent child?”

“He will be buried here, in our home,” Binghe's eyes met Wu Meifeng’s, a clear challenge in his voice. “I’ll bury him here. He loved this place.”

A scoff. “And you? What are you going to do now that your master is dead?”

“We would be happy to take you,” the other lady said. “Shen Qingqiu’s soulmate is welcome to join the Witch Covenant.”

Turning his head around, his eyes settled on Shizun’s limp body. He didn’t need to search for an answer in Shen Qingqiu’s eyes, but it was a sort of habit. “I won’t. I’ll stay here with Shizun.”

“And live by what? Study with whom?-”

“Leave it, Meifeng. The kid wants to stay here and he will. We will help in Shen Qingqiu’s burial and then we’ll never come back.”

            They buried Shen Qingqiu the next day, right in the center of their bamboo forest. The burial ceremony was short and brief, with only the three witches that Shizun knew and the lady from the day before, who he now knew was Wen Fu, one of Shizun’s other disciples.

He didn’t know what to think about the woman coming all the way here to talk to Shizun, trying to get him to join the Witch Covenant, but finding his dead body instead. She had been very soft and understanding, letting Binghe stay by his master’s dead body through the night.

Shizun, I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.

He wiped tears off his face, his heart filling with guilt. Shizun had saved his life twice, and Luo Binghe hadn’t been able to repay him even once in this lifetime. He should have prevented his master’s death, fought alongside him, to win or to lose. 

He took his frayed string between his fingertips. There was nothing connecting them anymore, and there wouldn’t be until Shizun got reborn. It could be in ten years, twenty, much later in his life, or never. 

Next time, he would not let Shizun get hurt by the witch hunters or anything else. When he reincarnated, Luo Binghe would be grown and powerful, and fully capable of taking care of Shizun. Protecting him. Providing for him. 

“This is the final goodbye," Wen Fu announced as the other three witches left. “Perhaps we’ll meet again someday.”

He didn't say anything and was only aware that the witches had left because the silence was louder.

“Shizun, I am sorry,” he said to the gravestone. Engraved in white marble, Shizun's name looked back at him. “I promise I will not let this happen again.”

He pinched the string tighter, the length too short for Binghe to twirl it around his finger as he had always been used to. He had a lot to work on. 

He needed to clean the house, get stronger, and find the mob of witch hunters that were responsible for his soulmate’s death. He needed to attend to their house, scrub the blood off the floor, and think about what to do with the extra bed. He needed to cook something for himself, sweep up the broken pieces of Shizun's favorite tea set, and sharpen his sword.

He needed to adjust to an empty cabin with no lively laughter and no warm hugs, no scolding and no improv lessons, no fans fluttering in the wind, and no green robes. A cabin with no Shizun to return to.