Chapter Text
On the glorious mountains north of Da Qing stretched miles and miles of forests, wide rivers, and beautiful flora that all led to the Siji Manor. The sect manor sat atop a mountain surrounded by water. A trip up the mountain took a few days, but it was worth it to see the manor in its now restored glory.
Zhang Chengling dedicated the last eight years of his life to restoring the manor and the sect. He recruited young martial artists and rebuilt whole sections that were lost to time and weather wear. Over the years, some said it looked more beautiful than it had in decades.
In the Orchid Pavilion sat Zhang Chengling, his wife of five years Gao Xiaolian, his newly appointed head disciple Wang Ziqian, and a younger disciple who had a habit of following Wang Ziqian around. Zhang Chengling often took down his hair in his offices around the people closest to him. His daughter, Nianxiang, toddled about the room as the four adults sat at a low table pouring tea for one another and arranging papers. Gao Xiaolian watched her run about as she rocked their newborn son, Jingwen, in her arms. Jingwen was antsy, despite it being past his bedtime, and he grabbed at parts of his father’s hair to hold in his tiny hands.
“Forgive me, shifu, but I don’t think I understand. From our history lessons with Song-laoshi, all of this you’re telling us just isn’t adding up.” Liu Weizhu was watching the baby pull on the hair. He turned to make eye contact with whom he was speaking.
“Ah yes, I tell my story to so many sets of disciples, I forget who I’ve told it to and who I haven’t. Perhaps it’s time, Weizhu, that you learned a little more about your shifu.” Zhang Chengling gave a silly wink that made Ziqian groan.
Zhang Jingwen let out a gurgle and threw his hands away from Gao Xiaolian. Zhang Chengling smiled softly and reached out to his son, “Okay, yes, my little monster, you can have front row seats for story time.”
The sect leader took a slow swallow of his cooling tea and began. “When I was your age, Weizhu, I was the victim of a tragic attack on my family.”
He paused, his tone adequately serious. “Out of everyone, I was the only one left. My father, while dying, entrusted me with a precious artifact that I wasn’t to let anyone know I had.”
He took a deep breath and placed a hand on his hip where his scar sat. “While escaping, I was graciously met with an amazing martial artist. He was reluctant at first, but he protected me at every turn from all those who attacked me.”
“Why were people attacking you?” interrupted Liu Weizhu.
“Greed, my boy. Pride, envy, anger; they wanted the treasure I was entrusted with because they knew my father had one. If it wasn’t in the manor, it was surely with the last living survivor, and your shigong protected me with his life. When he realized I had no skill of my own to survive, he obliged to teach me his sect’s practice.”
“The Swift Moving Steps!”
Zhang Chengling smiled over to the younger man who had just started to learn the technique. “That’s right. And he taught me everything I know about martial arts. All my tutors before him gave up on me, saying I was just a lazy good for nothing. Shifu taught me what it meant to follow the path of a martial artist. On our journey we met Wen-shishu, who was the one who ultimately convinced him to accept me as a student.” He giggled to himself slightly, “He has the same kind of sway over shifu that the furen has over me, but I proved myself, practicing all day and dreaming of practicing all night. Things were really bad in our world and sects were destroyed left and right. No one was safe. We traveled all about trying to understand the friction, but you know this part from your studies.”
The two disciples, even the older of the two, nodded, waiting to hear more of the story.
“So when the battle at the Ghost Valley occurred, shishu was gravely injured. He fought ferociously when my Xiang-jie and her betrothed disappeared, thinking the enemy had done something to them. I’m still looking for their location, just to prove to myself they made it out. Shifu took care of Wen-shishu in an inn where I had stayed with their highnesses, the Nanning Wang and the Great Shaman. The Great Shaman did his best to stabilize Wen-shishu, but he noticed right away that shifu’s condition had worsened. None of us had known that shifu pulled out the device keeping him alive when he thought shishu died. But that’s another story. The Great Shaman tried to convince him to attempt a lifesaving surgery, but he refused. This is where the story gets a little hazy for me.”
Gao Xiaolian rubbed a hand on his back for assurance. “Shifu entrusted me to The Great Shaman and the Nanning Wang. He told me to tell shishu that he was going to find a cure and would be back. I never got to do that since we found shishu at the hotel being woken up by the First Great Immortal, Ye Baiyi. Ye-qianbei had been in and out of our journey, but he was determined to make up a debt to shifu. He must have known he would go to the mountain to sacrifice himself and went to send shishu after him. I never really knew what happened after that. Eventually, the Great Shaman had people go to the mountain to check on them. When they were found alive, the Nanning Wang helped furnish their library where they now stay together as Immortals like Ye-qianbei had.”
“What about you? How did you get here?” asked Liu Weizhu.
“Well, I went back to Nanjiang with their highnesses and was trained alongside the Young Shaman. When the Great Shaman felt I was at a level to take care of myself, they let me come back to Da Qing and find the Siji Manor again. When it was livable, I went to confess to yours truly and brought her back here. The rest is history.” Zhang Chengling bounced little Jingwen on his knee, listening to the baby giggle and coo.
“As for the rest of the martial arts world, as I’m sure you know, Prince Jin made a recovery out of nowhere and went back to ruling. The Great Shaman said that when shifu went to fight him, he used a poison that would kill him whenever he himself died. When shifu didn’t die, neither did the Prince. It’s unfortunate, really, that he lived. I told shifu that he should have killed him. The Scorpion King died in the avalanche, as well as quite a few high ranking Tian Chuang members. Prince Jin wasn’t in the avalanche, unfortunately.”
Wang Ziqian and Liu Weizhu shared a look. There was clearly something more to the shifu’s dislike of Prince Jin than just him being a weird old ruler.
“And you see, Tian Chuang works in a way that even if the top ranking officer dies operations continue because every individual knows all the information that is needed for everyday operations. They simply moved on. The Scorpions were very quiet for years without the king. Before long sects of martial artists were resurging and forming alliances. A few years ago, one of our allies said they saw the mark of the Scorpions. Now we’re seeing them on our territory and around Da Qing. It begs the question, why?”
Liu Weizhu looked as though everything was starting to click into place. This was nothing like Song-laoshi’s history lessons. He skipped over a lot of these important events in their shifu’s life. A knock at the door took them all out of the quiet contemplation.
“Pardon the intrusion, shifu,” said a young disciple, timidly looking through a crack in the door. “There was a letter at the gate.”
Zhang Chengling waved the boy in and took the letter from him. The boy scrambled back out of the door in a hurry. The sect leader read over the letter, growing in excitement as he went.
“Dearest little idiot,” he read aloud, not caring who heard. “I have located the name of the village in which a’Xiang lives. It is quite a distance from the manor. You must prepare for a journey of about a month. However, if you think this is the answer, I am fully at your service and wishing you the best. A’Xu sends his love to you and the family. He didn’t say it that way but you know that’s what he means. Give a kiss to Nianxiang and Jingwen for us. Wen-yeye and Zhou-yeye will meet them someday. All the best, Master of the Ghost Valley.”
“Why must he sign his letters that way after saying such sweet things?” laughed Gao Xiaolian.
The sect leader shrugged his shoulders. “Something about keeping it intimidating so that no one steals our mail.”
Liu Weizhu perked up. “Does this mean we’re going to find the shifu’s Xiang-jie?”
“That’s exactly what it means,” agreed Ziqian conspiratorially.
“Shishu writes that we’ll know it’s them because they have purple flowers on their signs and there’s always kids playing around their house.” Zhang Chengling smiled at his disciples and placed a kiss on his wife’s forehead.
—
Every morning, like clockwork, the kids from next door would wait. They would bang on the door, run around, tease each other, play games, make up new games, but every morning they waited.
They waited for him to come bellowing out of the front door with a basket of fresh steamed buns and the day old loaves of bread. The village operated mostly on bartering and their parents supplied the young bakers with eggs, both for baking and eating. It was an easy trade to make their kids breakfast each morning in exchange for fresh eggs each week.
“Come on over, kiddos,” laughed Cao Weining. All the kids in the village loved that he always had a smile on his face. Their parents appreciated the opposite in his wife, no nonsense meant a good trade. Gu Xiang acted serious in the way that made you feel that she was never cheating you.
“Yay! Ning-shushu is here with breakfast,” one of the little ones yelled out as they all turned, the sound of the door opening acted like an alarm taking them from their play. Cao Weining handed her a bun wrapped in a cloth from a basket weaved by the old woman on the other side of the village. She liked Cao Weining’s sweets in exchange for her baskets, bowls, and boxes. He experimented with all sorts of fruits in the candies for her, just to see her face light up when she tried it.
“Is Xiang-yiyi feeling better?” asked the one in the middle as he grabbed up his bun and tore it in half.
“How polite of you to ask, xiao-gongzi!” Cao Weining exclaimed, making the little kids giggle with excitement. The truth was Gu Xiang was never actually sick. She just couldn’t deal with children before the sun was set high enough in the sky to her liking.
“I will have to tell her you asked about her,” he continued, giving two buns to the oldest boy who now complained of hunger after just one. The inside of the buns rotated between sweet and savory, depending on the ingredients available that morning. Cao Weining had only vegetables available to him on this particular morning, so he knew the oldest would want more than one.
He patted each one on the head and waited for them to place the cloths back in the basket. While the oldest finished up, he wet an unused towel in the pump shared by a few houses around. Gently, he wiped down the littlest one’s face, getting crumbs and oil from her cheeks. He did the same for the middle child, needing to put in less effort, and then ushered all three back towards home.
Across the wide, unpaved street, the stationary vendor was opening his store front. “I say, Cao Weining, you’re so good with those kids every morning. Hard to believe you’re not a father yourself, young man.”
This was a weekly occurrence. The older gentleman who lived across the path would yell over, asking ‘if the missus was carrying yet.’
Cao Weining smiled and waved at him, pretending he didn’t hear the content of the other man’s greeting. This was his approach most of the time. The older man kept them stocked with paper and ink in exchange for weeks worth of shaobing that Gu Xiang helped him store properly to avoid going bad. They had a good thing going and a comment about their family planning didn’t need to stop it.
He shook his head to himself as the door closed with the ring of their little bell behind him.
“Old man Shou asked if we’re having kids again?”
Gu Xiang smirked behind the counter of goods: baked, steamed, fried, candied, or otherwise created by them. Her lavender wrap hung at her sides, not yet tucked into the shop apron. Cao Weining stopped to admire her as she leaned over the counter toward him. It always reminded him of when they first met, her leaning over the table at him. She looked even more beautiful now, her figure filled out in her light gray frock. The bun at the top of her head hung loose to the side like an adult woman’s, no longer adorned with jewelry, but shiny in Cao Weining’s eyes nonetheless.
“You done ogling, da-ge?”
Cao Weining’s eyes lowered — since he could now, never could when they were teens — and traveled back up to hers. “Never.”
Gu Xiang scrunched her face up in a half blushing, half annoyed grin. He would never cease, so long as he got to see that little annoyed blush of hers.
Cao Weining walked towards the side of their shop where they hung their aprons, intending to put it over his shirt and take off his belt in its place. A loud rapping on the door made him jump and drop the apron to the floor.
“Shushu!” cried the voice outside. “Cao shushu, hurry!”
The little one sounded more anxious than frightened. Maybe he was nervous to ask for another helping? Cao Weining pulled on the door and put on his gentle smile for the kid, “Yes xiao-gongzi? Did you get hungry again already?”
The smaller neighbor boy pulled on his sleeve to guide him out to the road. Cao Weining was then faced with an entire village of anxious people. On the road ahead of him, as he picked up the boy, he saw a procession of what he knew could only be sect members traveling through from the martial arts world.
The whole village had known of his past (not Gu Xiang’s, of course, they assumed her to be his wife from the sect) and knew him to be the expert on all things heroes. Members of the village were flocking to the bakery by the dozens. The village was on the outskirts of the jianghu and not likely to see many visitors, let alone those from the martial arts world. It made sense for them to be anxious. It was also increasingly clear that these heroes were here for a purpose and not just passing through, and they were coming this way.
A troupe of light blue robes walking on foot followed by a few men in a darker turquoise color on horses came up the center road of the village. They did nothing to invoke fear, but Cao Weining watched as the people he interacted with everyday nearly shook in terror or anticipation, something.
He started to turn and bring the little boy inside the bakery until the commotion died down. That was when he heard, “Cao da-ge! It really is you!”
Cao Weining slowly turned on his heel to face the men on the horses that were suddenly in front of their shop. In the center, hair pulled up in an ornate silver guan, was the little idiot. Not so little now, of course. Zhang Chengling sat in the middle of an array of men under his command and had a chiseled jaw and, from the letters from Wen da-ren, apparently children of his own.
“Shidi, what a surprise!” Cao Weining heard a gasp from somewhere in the flurry of light blue and white. “Or should I say Zhang zhongzhu?”
“Absolutely you should not. If you called me anything but xiao-shazi, shifu would have a heart attack just from laughter.” Zhang Chengling hopped down from his horse to run into a hug with Cao Weining.
The older of the two laughed, “Good to know some things don’t change.” His eyes drifted towards all of the company the sect leader brought. “I am not sure what we will do with your horses, I’m afraid.”
Zhang Chengling waved him off with both hands. “A problem for later. Where is Xiang jiejie? She owes me about nine years of hugs and smacks over the head. And who is this fellow?”
Chengling bent down to meet the boy’s eyes in Weining’s arms. “Hello there, might you be the littlest master of the house?”
The boy shook his head and placed a finger in his mouth nervously. “No, zhongzhu, this is shushu. I have my own a’die.”
“And I won’t keep you from him, xiao-gongzi. Run along and Auntie Xiang will give you each a candy tomorrow,” Cao Weining set the boy down with an encouraging pat on his back.
When the boy ran off towards his parent’s store, Cao Weining leaned against the door to his. “Hey, honey, we have a surprise…”
“What could that little brat possibly have?” yelled back Gu Xiang.
Zhang Chengling smiled, “Ah, yes, some things don’t change.” He walked himself ahead of Cao Weining to find a woman he barely recognized. Truly an auntie, wearing an apron, working over some wheat flour while her jelly paste boiled.
“Oh, a grown up brat,” Gu Xiang spit out, but her face melted into a smile.
“I may have accidentally taken over your village, Xiang-jie.” Zhang Chengling walked behind the counter to give her a hug, flour and all.
While Gu Xiang scolded the grown up sect leader, Cao Weining turned back around towards their front window that normally displayed their cakes. Instead today it was a viewing spot to watch as roughly twenty heroes mulled about in the dirt road. His stable was barely big enough for their donkey, let alone five horses. He wasn’t even sure their village had an inn.
—
Over dinner that night, which only included the couple, the sect leader, and the head disciple, Zhang Chengling described to the pair everything that he’s been going through in the past year.
“Why me?” Gu Xiang said finally after some thought. “Why not ask your shifu… or your shishu, huh? He’s literally immortal and the master at devising schemes like this against enemies.”
Zhang Chengling let a long noodle slurp up as he looked at her with a blank expression. “Of course I’ve sent letters to shishu. How do you think I found you in this tiny place at the edge of the country limits?”
Cao Weining was still taking this all in. He hadn’t had to think about politics in so long. It was bliss. He got scrolls sent by the latest poets, poets of old, he read the Tao, he read Confucius, and never once did he have to consider how that knowledge would one day have to be for the benefit of a sect. “That is a very good point. I picked this place so we would be far from anywhere that a’Xiang might be recognized. You must have traveled a great distance.”
“We did. Because it’s that serious. It’s never been our people getting threatened when these strange sightings occur but any time they need leverage on us they go after the cooks. Xiaolian is so worried; she picked those folks out herself. She’s even threatened to go out there herself, something about ‘I brought them here and promised them work and safety, not weird scorpion markings’. And you know she will. What would I look like if my wife went out to beat up some guys we haven’t gotten rid of?”
Zhang Chengling sighed into his hands, the pin in his guan beginning to slip after the long day.
“So is this more about the safety of your sect, or you looking lame compared to Gao Xiaolian?” Gu Xiang began to gather the bowls around the table. “Because if it's the latter, you were never not a loser compared to her.”
The head disciple, whose name the couple learned was Wang Ziqian, let out a laugh before recovering quickly. Everyone close to his master was good at making fun of him, especially the furen, not that Ziqian would ever admit that to his master.
“Listen,” Zhang Chengling pinched the bridge of his nose in a way that made him look like an old man. “If you can find the source of the commotion and put a stop to it, not just the SiJi-NanHe Sect, but others will pitch in to provide you with generous compensation.”
“Okay, I’m listening,” replied his shijie.
“So far we’ve pooled a few pouches of silver. It’s enough to buy you three houses, for all I care.”
Wang Ziqian nodded along as if the couple wouldn’t have believed his master had that all prepared. Gu Xiang plopped back in her chair at the dining table, the last of the sunlight coming through their many windows in the back house connected to the shop. She eyed him suspiciously for a minute. She still couldn’t wholly believe the little idiot was here in their kitchen as a strapping twenty-something sect leader.
“We’ll need to talk about it. I’m not a kid anymore. I can’t just do mercenary work willy nilly.” Gu Xiang set a mooncake down in front of the younger man as she said it.
Zhang Chengling’s eyes widened with joy. Gu Xiang made a disgusted face and looked at Wang Ziqian. “Xiao-shazi don’t look at me like that. I just remembered you liked them with red bean paste is all. Kid, what do you like? We make it all ourselves.”
Wang Ziqian looked surprised to be offered anything. “Oh, I’ll take anything, ma’am, you've been such a gracious host already.”
“You can eat it while we walk. I need sleep, plenty of adventuring for me.” Zhang Chengling stood up and bowed to the couple as the young man received his cakes in a piece of wax paper.
Wang Ziqian scrambled out their door after his shifu into the streets, the wooden door slamming behind him.
Cao Weining stayed sitting at the table for a moment, taking it all in. He watched his wife take her hair out to place it higher on her head. Gu Xiang silently took the last of the dishes to their wash bin and began to clean them.
Their house wasn’t much, thought Cao Weining. But that was exactly what they wanted. Just one big room behind the shop with a half wall that separated their bedroom from the rest of it. From his spot at the table, he had a clear view of her working. Like nightly meditation, he watched the flow of her wool pants as she moved about their kitchen.
It was their routine after five years of truly being settled down together. No more running, no more building, just living together, being married like they dreamed of in all their nightly fantasies as they walked by moonlight from town to town gauging if the people there knew of the Ghost Valley. He would wake up first to let her sleep in and clean the kitchens for the day, prepare breakfast for her and maybe their little family someday. She would start up the steamer and the oven for a day of confectionery. They would spend the day doing what they love and selling things together. Their kids would run around in the back. At night, she would cook dinner while he closed the shop. He would put the kids to bed and watch as she cleaned and got them ready for the next day.
They pretty much did all of that here in their one room house in this village at the end of the world, except the kids weren’t theirs and they didn’t have to feed them at night.
Cao Weining was content with it all. “A’Xiang, I love you.”
“A’Xiang loves you, a’Ning,” she replied absentmindedly from the kitchen, barely looking up from the bowl in her hand. There was an unforgiving piece of rice stuck to the side as she scrubbed.
Cao Weining chuckled and walked over to her. He didn’t offer to help, just wrapped his arms around her waist, making her face scrunch up more.
When the bowl was clean, he whispered into her neck, “What do you think about the offer?”
She turned to face him, his arms still around her. “I think the village could use the money. Our water pump is slow. Old man Lan needs a new wagon before you all harvest soon. Auntie Yu says they’re running out of dye for the weaving and we get a lot of income from that with the traders. I think the couple on the corner are gonna have that baby any day, poor woman…”
Cao Weining brushed a loose piece of hair behind her ear. “And if we want that someday…”
“Don’t push your luck, Cao-gongzi,” Gu Xiang placed a soft kiss on his lips anyway. “I know we should do it, but it just feels wrong when we finally just gave it up.”
“I know, my love.”
Despite that, it felt like their decision was made.
—
The couple was cleaning the kitchens for the day as the sun nestled in the horizon, making its place of rest for the night. Gu Xiang untied her apron and set it on the hook on the back wall. She adjusted her wrap, placing it higher on her shoulders as she headed into the house. The day was easy enough on them that she felt in the mood to prepare a decently sized meal for the two of them. Humming to herself, she set up the kitchen utensils and started a small fire.
Cao Weining found himself cleaning the rest alone, closing up part of the shop that would need to be protected while they were gone, before removing his apron as well.
“Dinner is starting to smell good, a’Xiang,” complemented Cao Weining as he sat at their kitchen table. He picked up a small flute he had been whittling for a few weeks. The artist a few houses down started to teach him how to do it for a few extra cakes for his kids. Truthfully, Cao Weining would have given those kids anything no questions asked, but he was excited to have a new hobby.
The neighbor children have a favorite story they like to pretend when they play. A story about a villain who uses a flute for a weapon and his do-gooder rival who has a famous sword seemed awfully strange to him, but they adored it. Cao Weining had carved a fairly detailed sword already and was now almost to the finishing details on this flute. The boy from up the road likes to be the flute villain and his xiao-gongzi likes to be the sword hero. The littlest one always finds her way in by being someone’s sister or best friend. (Cao Weining would need to make her a sword, or maybe whip like a’Xiang. No, definitely too dangerous for that crew. Maybe just a sword.) The eldest always says that the story is for girls and never joins in at first, but eventually he starts telling them all they do wrong and directs the play.
Gu Xiang brought their meal over to the table, as well as their utensils. She set some side dishes around them: vegetables, flour dumplings, fried eggs. She poured tea for each of them before sitting down. With a giggle, she wet her napkin with her tongue and scrubbed at the side of her husband’s forehead.
“You had loquat paste on your forehead where you wipe your hair back.” Gu Xiang didn’t need to explain, simple domestic touches like this had been exchanged for some time. Cao Weining still smiled and leaned into her touch.
“Eat. You must be ravenous by now. We have an early start tomorrow too.” Cao Weining scooped a serving of stir fried vegetables onto Gu Xiang’s bowl and motioned for her to focus.
She nodded softly, taking her orders, perhaps too willingly. It unsettled him. “Everything alright?”
Gu Xiang looked up. “I’ve just been thinking about a plan of action for this mission. It’s a lot to take on. Neither of us have fought anyone in years.”
Cao Weining considered this, holding a spoonful of yolky rice, mid bite. “I’ve been staying fit. It doesn’t hurt that I help with the harvest. During the festivals, they always ask me to do martial arts routines so I keep up with a lot of skills. You're as talented as ever, my love. I’m certain we’ll be fine.”
“I don’t feel as talented as ever. I had to search the luggage just to find my whip.” She sighed and despondently monched a spoonful. “I used to never go anywhere without it.”
“Then you be the brains and I’ll be the brawn. Hopefully, we won’t even need to fight anyone. We’ll just solve the confusion and take the money.” Cao Weining wiggled his eyebrows at her.
He then held up a finger and turned his nose up studiously. “When we worry too much about our next step, a’Xiang, we always stay on one leg.”
“Thank you, Philosopher Cao,” Gu Xiang laughed. “I feel so much better. Ready to take on that next step. What makes you think you can do the brawn alone?”
Cao Weining was infinitely happier to see her devilish smirk rest on her lightly tanned skin. His world was brightest when his wife wore a smile. “Oh, I don’t know. I wouldn’t want my delicate porcelain doll to have to lift a finger when her brain is her strongest muscle,” he teased.
Her spoon hit the table. Gu Xiang scoffed, her smirk deepening. “Cao. Wei. Ning. You take that back.” As she stood to walk over to his side of the table, her laugh sounded more like the squeal from a release of air. “Delicate. Porcelain. Doll?”
Cao Weining laughed excitedly, pushing back in his chair. His eyes widened like a little kid about to get the older kid to play tag. “My delicate wife has to be cared for. It was in our vows.”
He knew better than to stay seated after that one. With a wild, silly laugh, he took off for the back of the house. “Cao Weining, I’ll show you: delicate and docile!”
Laughter rang through the house as they chased each other, jittery on the nerves of what would come the next day. Eventually, Gu Xiang caught her husband in a corner and backed him onto their bed with silly giggles and light, teasing punches.
With the kitchen empty, Zhou Zishu released his hand from the crystal, breaking the connection. He and Wen Kexing took a minute to do deep breathing and bring their minds back to their own experience.
In the innermost chamber of the library, the immortal couple kept all of the pieces of wisdom and qi enhancing devices found in the library. The move was originally to create rooms and have a livable space for the two of them, but soon they realized it was best if the coveted items were in the least accessible part of the library.
On the third shelf in, two from the top (they memorized it) sat a box containing a large crystal that belonged to a sect long since gone. They were a nomadic people who traveled about the jianghu to search for peoples in crisis. It was their creed to make the lives of others better. They used this crystal to search for those who needed their help, but also to find their loved ones if they got separated. Its history was studied and recorded diligently, kept neatly next to the box when the couple found it.
Their first instinct was to place their qi into it to search for A’Xiang. They saw her and Cao Weining at an inn in a town they could hardly recognize, but they were safe and they were together. They tracked down Zhang Chengling and found him with his little family. The writings didn’t include it, but they quickly learned that anyone could use it as a qi amplifying device to find those in crisis or a random person, but it had to be used together to find your loved ones.
Closing the box, Zhou Zishu could feel the pull of the crystal as he and Wen Kexing stood close together. Their proximity to it and to each other felt powerful and eerie, but it was their connection to the outside world. It was how they got their communications through, and it was how they checked on those important to them. Zhou Zishu has gotten to watch Lu Ta grow and see the time approach for Wu Xi to pass on the title. Wen Kexing has seen Gu Xiang’s little shop grow and her marriage prosper. The crystal showed them for the first time that they were the grandparents of little Zhang Nianxiang.
“They’re going on a mission?” Wen Kexing asked, although it’s more of a statement.
Zhou Zishu nodded as he placed the box in its rightful place on the shelf. “It seems that way, yes.”
“I wonder if it has something to do with that issue we heard Chengling talk about the last time we checked in on him?” Wen Kexing started to exit the treasure hold, passing the living area into their bedroom to sit on the bed.
Zhou Zishu was following but did not respond.
“You know, it would make sense if he tried to enlist a’Xiang. She grew up in a private crime organization. She knows how to get information and make people talk. I’m sure she could figure it all out for them.” Wen Kexing turned to his husband who still stood in the doorway.
His little bout of thinking out loud didn’t sound preplanned but didn’t not sound preplanned. He saw the attempt at analysis all over his husband’s face. Zhou Zishu thought he could read anyone without their knowing, but Wen Kexing had lived alone with him for too long for that to work anymore.
“And what about that silly Cao kid.” Wen Kexing scoffed, changing the subject. “Thinking he needs to protect my a’Xiang. As if… I trained her to fight on muscle memory, like using chopsticks, you can’t just lose that. I’m certain he’s the one who will need protecting, the useless clutz.” Wen Kexing flopped back on the bed to avoid the eyes on him.
“I don’t know, he looked awfully agile when escaping her wrath.” Zhou Zishu walked into the room, finally, and sat on the bed. “He might still have it in him to fight a bad guy or two.”
“A’Xu, how dare you doubt her ability?”
“It’s not that I doubt her, I just don’t think you give him enough credit.”
“I guarantee you, by the end of whatever this is, a’Xiang will have needed to rescue that stupid little husband of hers.” Wen Kexing sighed languidly, feeling the blanket under him.
“What are you willing to bet on it?”
Wen Kexing was taken aback. Normally, he was the one who made silly bets on things: mundane daily tasks, village people they found in the crystal, when they would get a letter.
Suddenly, he whipped his head toward his husband on the other side of the bed. “The walnuts.”
Zhou Zishu blinked slowly, “the walnuts?”
“Yes, a’Xu, the walnuts. If I win, you stop arguing with me about it. If you win, I stop arguing with you about it.”
“Deal.”
“Deal.” Wen Kexing giggled, slightly maniacally. “Kiss me to seal the deal.”
Zhou Zishu leaned down to slot his lips against his husband’s when a hand pressed to his chest. “Wait! I have a stipulation.”
Zhou Zishu nodded with eyebrows raised as though to say, ‘well, on with it’.
“We can’t interfere. The bet is off if either of us helps them.”
“Okay…” He then continued with his intended goal, placing a soft, long kiss. Wen Kexing wrapped his arm around his neck, pulling him down to deepen the kiss. Any other rules of the bet could wait.