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Sisheng Peak was quiet at night. Xue Meng tried to enjoy the twinkle of stars, the gentle rustle of the wind, the simple pleasure of being safe at home.
It wasn’t working.
He was bored.
If his mother was here, Xue Meng suspected she’d tell him to use his time wisely—check the accounts, write letters, train disciples, decoct medicines. That kind of thing. His father would probably tell him to cheer up, things could be worse. And then send him off to train or something.
Xue Meng had tried all of that. Still bored.
It was ridiculous for a sect leader to be bored. It was especially ridiculous for Xue Meng to be bored. He should be glad that no one was currently trying to kill him. Or start the apocalypse. He should be glad that, three years after the world almost ended, he was a respected leader of a respectable sect. And he was. Really. Xue Meng knew he was lucky. People told him all the time. And yeah, he had everything he needed and was alive to enjoy it. But something was missing. He just didn’t know what. And since he didn’t know what, he couldn’t find it. Since he couldn’t find it—well, everything else seemed sort of pointless.
Maybe this is all there is, he thought, swinging his legs over the edge of the balcony. The same old shit until I die.
Xue Meng stared at the horizon until dawn, but nothing interesting happened.
⪻ ⪼
“You could get a cat,” Mo Ran suggested, waggling his eyebrows. “It’s done wonders for my life.”
It was a sign of how desperate Xue Meng was that he’d dropped by to see Mo Ran and Shizun without notice. He’d done that once and had learned his eye-gouging lesson. Luckily, they’d only been weeding in the garden this morning.
Even after everything they’d gone through, even after everything he’d seen with his own eyes, it was still a little hard for Xue Meng to believe Mo Ran and Shizun…uh…had a garden. Together. But the more time he spent with them, the more sense it made. They practically glowed with happiness, and that, Xue Meng had learned, couldn’t be taken for granted.
Xue Meng rolled his eyes at his cousin—they were still cousins, no matter who had contributed their blood and bones—who brayed with laughter. Without looking up, Shizun hurled a sizable loofah in their direction. Mo Ran avoided the flying gourd with deft ease that could only have come from experience. Xue Meng only barely managed to catch the projectile before it bashed his head in.
“I’m not sure that’ll work for me,” he said, tossing the loofah into Mo Ran’s basket. “For one thing, Mihe Zhanglao is allergic to animals, and she already hates me.”
“Nonsense,” Shizun interjected. “It is only that she is a woman of reason, order, and science, and you…”
He was seized by a sudden coughing fit, and when finally he cleared his throat, he went back to silently weeding like he’d forgotten he was talking. Xue Meng was perfectly content not hearing the second half of Shizun’s opinion, but of course, Mo Ran couldn’t shut up.
“What my beloved Wanning is trying to find a polite way to say, Mengmeng, is that you are a creature of instinct, uncertainty, and chaos,” Mo Ran finished helpfully. “But we accept you anyway, don’t we, baobei.”
Unfortunately for Mo Ran, he wasn’t able to dodge loofahs flying at him from two directions.
Later, after Shizun had made them a simple lunch of loofah salad and loofah soup from their loofah bounty—and Xue Meng had endured Mo Ran raving about its sumptuous perfection—Shizun folded his hands.
“What is it you wish to feel, Ziming?”
If I knew that, I wouldn’t be asking you two, Xue Meng thought crossly. But Shizun was still Shizun—well, not technically, but Chu Wanning would always be Shizun in Xue Meng’s head and heart—so he thought about it.
“Uh,” he finally said. “Something different. Something…good?”
At least Xue Meng could be certain of one thing: he wasn’t going to be topping the list of most eloquent sect leaders this year. Along with not being the richest, not the most successful, not the happiest. He wasn’t even the tallest.
Shizun’s expression softened, like he could hear Xue Meng’s self-flagellation. “You are a good leader, Ziming. That means a great deal to many people.”
A tight knot clogged Xue Meng’s throat, and he scoffed to clear it. “Anyone could do it. I just say ‘yes’ and ‘no’ and ‘what do you think you should do’ all day long. The sect pretty much runs without me doing anything.”
Shizun covered his mouth, but the corners of his eyes crinkled with laughter. “As I said. You are a good leader. Your parents would be so proud of you. As I am.”
Xue Meng did not come here to cry, and he was definitely going to cry if Shizun didn’t stop saying such nice things. What did he do to deserve this torture?
“Hey,” Mo Ran interrupted, handing Xue Meng a bowl of wine. “You should ask Hanxue and HanXue. You’re with them all the time these days. Maybe they can tell you what you want.”
Mo Ran winked at Shizun, who blushed and looked away for no reason Xue Meng could comprehend. However, the instinctive recoil of seeing Mo Ran flirting helped stifle Xue Meng’s tears. He sipped his wine and studiously ignored his embarrassing cousin.
Xue Meng couldn’t imagine that the proud and privileged Mei twins would have any useful advice, but he didn’t have any other great ideas. Maybe it was worth a try.
⪻ ⪼
“Mengmeng, it would be my pleasure to alleviate your boredom,” Hanxue said with a genial leer. He tugged Xue Meng’s long ponytail teasingly. “I keep offering.”
Xue Meng rolled his eyes. Could no one take his problem seriously?
“Aren’t you busy enough alleviating the boredom of my disciples? And every barmaid from here to Taohuayuan?” Xue Meng shot back, snatching his hair away from Hanxue. “How would you ever find the time?”
Hanxue clutched his chest and pretended to be shot, falling over dramatically and writhing on Xue Meng’s bed like a dying snake. It was ridiculous, but Xue Meng laughed despite himself. Even HanXue’s lips were tipped up in the corners like he was considering a laugh. They might not have a solution for him, but he always had fun with the Mei twins.
“Ziming, perhaps you need something to do,” HanXue said, once Hanxue had died sufficiently. He held up a hand when Xue Meng opened his mouth to argue that actually, he had plenty to do, it was all just very boring. “I mean, something meaningful.”
Xue Meng slouched in his chair. “Isn’t leading a sect meaningful?”
HanXue tipped his head, considering. His green eyes were just a shade darker than his brother’s, Xue Meng thought, and his nose was a smidge wider. There were so many differences, in fact, that it was strange to think there’d ever been a time when Xue Meng couldn’t tell them apart.
“Is it meaningful to you?” HanXue asked, instead of answering the question.
Xue Meng was pretty sure it was. Or at least, it was supposed to be.
“Alright, then what do you think I should do?” he growled. This was so embarrassing. He was a grown man. What kind of grown man needed someone else to tell him what to do?
“Well,” HanXue said slowly, glancing at his brother.
Hanxue sat up, raising his eyebrows. He looked genuinely startled, which made Xue Meng immediately curious.
The brothers had one of those creepy, silent, twin conversations before Hanxue finished HanXue’s thought, sounding as serious as Xue Meng had ever heard him. “You could come with us.”
There was a plague downriver, it seemed. It wasn’t a particularly deadly plague, they assured him, nothing that could hurt a cultivator as strong as they all were. But it was a virulent one. And at this time of year, the start of planting season, losing so much of the local workforce would be devastating.
“We’re on our way there now,” HanXue said. “It didn’t seem like your kind of work; there’s nothing to fight. But every hand would help.”
Xue Meng hesitated. Was fieldwork suitable for a sect leader?
Hanxue shrugged. “You’re probably right,” he said, like Xue Meng had argued.
“Perhaps Chu-zongshi can be dragged away from Mo Weiyu,” HanXue suggested, his low voice thoughtful. “Or…”
“You’re right. Let’s invite Mo Weiyu too. He’s a decent healer, and he’s probably handy with a plow…”
Xue Meng threw a plum at Hanxue. Amazing how cathartic throwing produce was. “Alright, alright, stop that, you devious monsters. I’ll go with you.”
He stomped away from their laughter, but there was a small bloom of something new inside him. It felt like something nice.
⪻ ⪼
From sunup to sundown, it was the hardest work Xue Meng had ever done. But to his surprise, he enjoyed it. Of course, he couldn’t let Hanxue and HanXue know that. He took his turns planting and weeding with Hanxue, moaning that he’d never had blisters and calluses before. Hanxue just laughed and used his spiritual energy to pour cold ice through Xue Meng until he was shivering. He spent time going house to house with HanXue, healing sick farmers and children. He was quite good at it, actually, since all that required was a quick burst of targeted energy to burn out the infection. But as soon as they were outside, he staggered and whined that even Shizun would never have forced him to use so much of his qi this way. He was positively faint. HanXue smiled and bought him a drink.
Xue Meng even helped with mealtimes for the first time in his life, although after his first try, Hanxue would only let him stir the congee.
“I’d hate for you to injure your pretty hands,” he’d said by way of explanation, but Xue Meng had a feeling his demotion was actually thanks to mildly burning a pork loin. In his defense, he’d never made pork loin before. And, in his further defense, it had still been edible. Mostly.
After three weeks, Xue Meng returned to Sisheng Peak invigorated. He inventoried weapons. He marshaled a group of young disciples to help him catalog and pack the things Shizun had left behind. He even volunteered for kitchen duty, where he learned to cut turnips thin enough to see through from one of his best chefs. Xue Meng was told the boy was fourteen, but he shouted orders like a seasoned general. He cursed like one too. Fourteen. Xue Meng couldn’t remember what he was doing at fourteen, but it certainly wasn’t working all day in the heat of the kitchen.
Strutting around like the darling of the Heavens, a snide voice whispered, and Xue Meng frowned. He had been spoiled, hadn’t he. He frowned again when the voice added, maybe you still are.
Summer passed, and right when nights were starting to grow shorter and the oppressive humidity was starting to relent, the boredom returned with a vengeance. But just as Xue Meng was about to pull out his hair with the tedium of sorting herbs for Pingwen Zhanglao, HanXue flew in from Chencang Shi. Xue Meng had never been so happy to see anyone in his life.
HanXue staggered off his sword when he landed, and Xue Meng had to catch him before he fell. Xue Meng half-dragged, half-carried his friend to a table, yelling for someone to bring a bowl of beef noodles. HanXue had never looked anything less than pristine, even fighting for his life against an entire demon realm, but now he seemed fragile and exhausted. Even so, Xue Meng had to practically force HanXue to eat before he passed out.
“I’m sorry,” HanXue mumbled around a mouthful of broth. His color was starting to return, and when Xue Meng touched his forehead, he didn’t feel cold and clammy anymore. “I can’t stay. Chencang Shi is beset by the dead. A powerful necromancer has raised an army. We could use the help, if you aren’t busy.”
Xue Meng was not, in fact, busy at all.
A few days after they defeated the necromancer, Xue Meng and the Mei twins dug a new well for a town whose water supply had been consumed by a demon. The demon was long gone, but the people still needed water.
Then there was a fire in Linyi, and Xue Meng learned another new skill: construction.
Then Jiang Xi asked for assistance investigating the disappearance of a town doctor, a former member of his sect. Everyone thought she’d been kidnapped, but as it turned out, she’d fallen in love with a wandering cultivator and had left her old life behind.
Days turned into weeks. Weeks stretched into months, and Xue Meng stopped keeping track. No matter where the three of them went, there were people with problems. Babies to feed and love triangles to sort out. Barns to build and rice to harvest. These were not problems that required the full might of Sisheng Peak or Taxue Palace. They just needed someone who was willing and able to help. And Xue Meng loved being that person.
More than ever, Xue Meng wished he could talk to his father, and yet more than ever, he understood him. Xue Zhengyong had started a sect because he’d believed his life should be spent helping anyone who needed it. The last few years, Xue Meng had been so determined to save Sisheng Peak and make it prosper, he’d forgotten the core of its foundation. The universe had given him this gift of another chance, and Xue Meng planned to use his future the way his father would have—helping people and leaving them better off than they’d been. Maybe it was a shallow kind of happiness, he didn’t know, but the thought filled him with joy he’d never found in cultivation or as sect leader.
Is this enough, he wondered. Surely, this was enough.
But it wasn’t. Not quite.
⪻ ⪼
“I’m not a complete idiot,” Xue Meng said one night. He was lying flat on his back in a field, too tired to stand, too tired to even wipe the grime off his face. They’d been harvesting melons all week, and Xue Meng had decided he was never eating a melon again. He never wanted to see a melon again. “I know you don’t really need me.”
Hanxue, laying on his left, gasped in mock horror. “Mengmeng, how could you say that! Of course we need you. Who else would have thought to chop cabbage with their sword?”
“Or slap a necromancer in the face with a fish,” HanXue added from the right.
Xue Meng laughed weakly. Not the claims to fame he’d dreamed of. “Oh hush. Let me say this. I know you don’t really need me, but it’s been nice to be…”
Oh. Actually, this was far more embarrassing than he’d expected. Maybe he’d pretend to fall asleep.
“Nice to be what?” HanXue asked.
Xue Meng groaned. He couldn’t ignore a direct question. Maybe they wouldn’t make too much fun of him for being pathetic.
“I like this. Traveling and helping people with you. I guess—I’m glad that you want me around, because I know you don’t really need me. Thank you. For being my friends.”
HanXue inhaled, a sharp, wounded sound, and Xue Meng glanced over at him, puzzled. But then, he couldn’t look away. HanXue had leaned up on one elbow and was staring intently at Xue Meng, an odd expression on his handsome face. His hair flowed over his shoulder and onto the ground like a pool of golden light. It seemed wrong, somehow, a treasure too wondrous to drag in the grass and dirt.
“Ziming.” HanXue always called Xue Meng by his courtesy name, and it usually seemed—courteous. But not now. Not the way he turned the syllables gently in his mouth. Not the way his eyes softened when they met Xue Meng’s. “Those two things are not mutually exclusive.”
Xue Meng frowned. He’d said more than two things. He felt like he should ask a question or say—something. He wanted to say something. But he didn’t know exactly what HanXue meant, and it seemed vitally important that he know. He wondered what Shizun would do in this situation. Probably say something clever and mysterious. Mo Ran would probably take command and get what he wanted.
“Ah,” Xue Meng tried, which did not help in any way at all. Evidently, neither clever nor commanding were options today.
“Mengmeng,” Hanxue said, close to Xue Meng’s ear, so close, he could feel the tickle of warm breath. He sounded amused, but there was a hint of steel in his voice, too. “We do need you.”
Carefully, he slid his hand over Xue Meng’s chest, but the light touch may as well have been an explosion. Xue Meng could feel the impact everywhere in his body—a rush of heat, a burst of light and sound that nearly knocked him unconscious.
“And we want you,” HanXue said, tracing the curve of Xue Meng’s jaw with the tip of his finger. His voice trembled slightly, and he looked uncertain. But beautiful. Beautiful and beloved.
Slowly, Xue Meng twined his fingers with HanXue’s and cupped Hanxue’s hand in theirs. He felt like he was part of the earth, part of the sky, and yet, wholly, completely himself. This was so much more than he’d hoped, so much more than he’d expected.
Hanxue shifted to pillow his head on Xue Meng’s shoulder, and HanXue kissed Xue Meng’s fingers one by one. Xue Meng closed his eyes. Once again, he understood his father and all the things he had done for love.
“Where will we go next?” Hanxue murmured. “After our long melon nightmare has ended?”
This is it, Xue Meng thought. This is enough. Everything he’d been missing was here.
“Wherever you want,” he answered. A soft breeze brushed Xue Meng’s cheek, and he opened his eyes, gazing in wonder at the glittering blanket of stars above him. “Wherever we’re needed.”