Chapter Text
The stone-carved statue is cold where Xiao Lanhua’s head rests on it.
Daqiang— no, he was Dongfang Qingcang now, wasn’t he?— had cradled her head so gently as he’d laid her there, making sure she wouldn’t hit or bruise anything. He’d set her down like she weighed nothing, had gotten back up like he hadn’t just incited a war in her name.
He’d held her like he never lied to her at all.
She supposes she’s being unfair in that aspect. The clues were all there from the beginning, with his defensiveness towards the Yuezu and Dongfang Qingcang himself, the details of the war only he would have known, and how he’d snapped at her when she’d made fun of him.
Oh, God. She’d made fun of the most hated and feared man in the three realms to his face. What did he say that one time? That Dongfang Qingcang ate tens of thousands of fairies like herself for breakfast, lunch and dinner? That he had them boiled, roasted, fried, steamed, and even raw?
She was so screwed.
But despite all of that, Dongfang Qingcang wasn’t… Well, he wasn’t anything like the storybooks described him to be. He didn’t have an ugly green face and fangs. He wasn’t a crazed killer or a weak and defeated old hag rotting away in Haotian Tower.
He was… he was kind, in his own strange way. He brought her morning dew, collected dutifully by dawn every day, just to nurture her plant spirit. He snuck her to the restricted palace rooftops just so she could see the sunrise. He’d brought her eternal fire from the raging magma of Cangyanhai to keep her warm. He made her baihuageng, terrible tasting as it was, just because she was missing her shifu.
He had only ever wanted her to be happy. Could she really hate him for that?
She could still see traces of Daqiang in him. That’s what was making this situation so difficult. How could she separate the two into their own identities when the way he’d set her here reminded her of nights long ago where he’d tuck her into bed, his movements ever-so cautious?
Daqiang was Dongfang Qingcang, but Dongfang Qingcang was also Daqiang, and she couldn’t split them apart. They were the same person. They were not. But they were.
Ugh! Her head hurts. She’s just Xiao Lanhua, a nameless and ordinary orchid plant! What had she done in her past life to deserve any of this?!
She can’t think about this anymore. Not at this current moment, anyway; she’ll find time to cry about this at night later. With great struggle to keep her eyes open, she tunes back into the fight, because apparently Dongfang Qingcang has not gotten them out yet and is fighting someone…
She blinks. Changheng-xianjun? He’s fighting Changheng over her, and Changheng is fighting him back? She feels something hysterical bubble in her throat, a half-sob half-laugh. Oh, this is too much.
She doesn’t really know what they’re doing. They’re not using their swords, which makes sense; even she knows hand-to-hand combat would be ineffective at best for this. Instead, Changheng is wielding what looks like blades made from ice, throwing them in Dongfang Qingcang’s direction, but his hellfire melts them upon contact.
It’s a useless chase; for every blow landed, Changheng is sent back tenfold. He’s coughing up blood; Dongfang Qingcang is just fine, but even he’s starting to look a little tired. Using so much power in such rapid succession can’t be good for anyone, let alone one whose powers had been locked away for so long.
This won’t do. She cannot have people getting hurt over her. She isn’t worth this.
“Daqiang!” she yells, her throat burning with the volume of it. To her it’s as if she’s screamed her lungs out; to them, though, it’s as if they haven’t heard her at all. “Changheng-xianjun! Stop fighting! Stop fighting, please!”
Dongfang Qingcang narrowly dodges another shard of ice and touches down next to her, barely casting her a glance.
“Don’t wear out your voice, Xiao Huayao,” he instructs. “Stay back and do not move. Benzuo will protect you.”
And then he’s shooting back up into the sky again, sending out more bursts of hellfire. Changheng is nothing but persistent, meeting his every flame, and Xiao Lanhua brings her hands up to her face, closing her eyes. She can’t watch this. She brushes a finger over her cheek; it comes away wet, salty and tear-stained.
Suddenly, there’s a loud thud, causing Xiao Lanhua’s hands to drop and her eyes to fly open. Changheng slams to the ground, sprawled on his front. He coughs, wheezing and clutching at his chest, forcing spiritual energy into his system. Dongfang Qingcang lands on his feet, his arms crossed as his fire extinguishes.
He gives him a look, irritated. “So? Are you done?”
Changheng pushes himself up, shaking all over. With a sluggish gait, he draws on more of his spiritual energy, summoning more wavering blades in the air.
“No,” he says. “As long as I’m alive, I’m not letting you leave Shuiyuntian with her.”
Dongfang Qingcang sighs in exasperation, relighting the fire in his palm. “If you insist.”
Xiao Lanhua gasps, unable to help herself. He won’t kill him, will he? He wouldn’t, not with her here, not with her asking—
“Don’t!” she cries, reaching out towards him. She crawls over, grabbing at his sleeve, pulling with all of her might, praying that she can sway him. “Daqiang, you promised me you wouldn’t hurt anyone! Don’t attack him anymore!”
That’s all it takes, in the end. The simple binding of a seal. A split second distraction leads to a momentary loss of focus and a turn of his head. Dongfang Qingcang’s hand freezes, and he breaks his gaze with Changheng to look at her, about to open his mouth to reply, and—
Ice-sharp knives slice through the air all at once, so many she cannot count. Xiao Lanhua screams— “Watch out!”— but even someone of his power can’t withstand this blow, not when that someone has a life to save that isn’t his own.
Dongfang Qingcang shoves her backwards and drops to his knees, whisking his cape open to shield her. He doesn’t summon any hellfire in defense, just blocks her with his body, and the Xilan Holy Seal glows on his forehead as he grits his teeth.
“Xiao Huayao,” he hisses, wincing as a blade stabs him in the leg. “Undo your command!”
What? Is she responsible for this?—
“Xiao Huayao!”
“I—” Her eyes grow wide, panicked. She searches her brain for what he means and— Oh. “Daqiang, I take it back!” she quickly amends. “Defend yourself! You can go on and— You can attack him—”
It’s too late. Just as the command undoes itself, his cape falls to shredded scraps of fabric, and a blade dives straight for his heart.
Xiao Lanhua’s face melts into horror. She goes to leap at the blade, but Dongfang Qingcang throws a blast of energy at her so she stumbles back. It pierces through him in a sickening sound, and he crumples into a heap on the ground on impact.
The world goes still. The blades stop coming, but it doesn’t change the ones that did. Xiao Lanhua crawls over to Dongfang Qingcang, crimson pooling fast beneath him, and she slides her arm under his shoulders, holding him close.
He gasps, a broken, wretched noise, wet with blood. “Xiao— Xiao Huayao—”
“Daqiang, I’m here, I’m here—”
Then the corners of his lips quirk up, forming the smallest smile as he gives her one last look. “Good. You’re unharmed.”
His eyelids flutter closed, at peace. Xiao Lanhua cups his cheek, shaking.
“Daqiang,” she sobs, burying her head in the crook of his neck. “Daqiang, wake up!”
There’s no witty remark this time. He doesn’t smirk at her, or scold her, or make any empty threats he’d never truly follow through on. His chest doesn’t rise or fall in an incredulous laugh at her antics. He doesn’t make a single sound.
Xiao Lanhua slaps a hand over her mouth, weeping silently.
“Daqiang, I know you’re not gone,” she cries, pulling back to shake him. “Wake up! I— I command you to open your eyes! Do you hear me? I command you to live!”
On his forehead, the seal glimmers slightly, then fades. Dongfang Qingcang’s eyes remain firmly shut. Breath and colour doesn’t return to his lungs and skin like she’d hopelessly expected.
She wails, clutching his lifeless frame to her tightly, like he’ll revive himself just to push her away. Please, please, please push me away, she begs. Tell me not to touch you. Tell me to go away. Tell me to get out of your sight.
He doesn’t. She’s crying so hard that she can’t breathe, heavy with grief. She knows she can’t stay like this— she needs to get them back to Simingdian. She’ll find a way to heal him there. She’s brought back plants from the dead before, hasn’t she? A life can’t be any different.
Her cultivation may be weak, but she clenches her teeth, mustering all of her strength. She’ll transport them back. She has to.
“Xiao Lanhua.”
Changheng’s call for her interrupts her concentration, and whatever energy she’d conjured up disappears. She lets out another sob and arranges Dongfang Qingcang’s body so he’s lying in a better position on the ground, resting his head on her lap.
“Changheng-xianjun,” she replies, less out of respect and more out of aggravation. You have a palace to report your lies to, don’t you? “I know what you’re thinking. You can’t stop me.”
His voice is soft and pleading, as if his hands aren’t fresh with blood. “Xiao Lanhua,” he urges, crouching down to lift her into his arms. His white robes are speckled with red, red, and red, evidence of the crime beside them. At the sight, she tastes bile on her tongue; vaguely, she thinks: I’m going to be sick. “Xiao Lanhua, come with me. I’ll bring you somewhere safe. I’ll make sure no one can hurt you.”
And weren’t those such pretty words? Hasn’t she dreamed of this? Hasn’t she imagined the earnest look in his eyes as he’d sweep her off her feet and take her home?
Distantly, she thinks of a torn-up painting, one that she’d spent days piecing back together. But that phrase: I’ll make sure no one can hurt you. That oath that only one person had ever succeeded in upholding, and now he was gone, killed by the very man who dared to echo him.
Shuddering, Xiao Lanhua turns away from him. She shakes her head madly in refusal, back and forth until she’s dizzy.
“No,” she chokes. “No. I’m not going with you. I’m not going anywhere with you. Just leave. Leave me here. I’m— I’m taking Daqiang, and we’re going home.”
She can’t see him, but she can picture Changheng’s eyebrows furrowing, the confusion in his face. Wasn’t I all you wanted? Didn’t you always wish to serve me and be by my side?
“Xiao Lanhua,” he tries again, more desperate this time. He inches forward closer, arms spread for her to fit in them. She recoils, scrambling backwards, crying out in fear.
“Stop!” she shouts, terrified. He’s dead. You killed him. “Don’t come closer or— or I’ll!—”
Changheng does stop moving forward, but a flurry of spellcasting actions comes from his hands. White sparks dot her vision, disorienting her, lulling her into oblivion. Her head spins; what is he doing? She’s never seen a spell like this before.
She waves her hands in front of her face, her nose scrunching up. Why is everything blurry? Why can’t she see? She yawns, struck with drowsiness, and feels herself slumping over.
“I’ll… I’ll get us out…” she mutters, her words slurring into something unintelligible. She grasps blindly at Dongfang Qingcang’s hand, lacing their fingers together as she falls into a dreamless sleep. “Wait for me, okay? Just wait… a few more minutes…”
She’s out cold by the time Changheng makes his vow to her, a deception in itself.
“Don’t worry, Xiao Lanhua,” he says, prying her and Dongfang Qingcang’s fingers apart. Once they’re separated, he takes her in his arms, carrying her back to the palace. “Everything will be okay, I promise.”