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Shen Qingqiu had no idea what was going on with this world.

When he woke up, Binghe wasn’t there. Strange, but understandable: perhaps his husband had left to cook breakfast or was away on urgent business. Shen Qingqiu used the chance to pay a visit to Baizhan without being distracted by jealousy scenes or attempts to calm down the vinegar-chugging Binghe.

The training with Liu-shidi was overall successful, even though Shen Qingqiu’s new robe gathered all the dust from the training ground. Liu Qingge snorted, looking at the dirty hems; Shen Qingqiu tried to take out his fan but couldn’t find it on his belt, Liu Qingge snorted again and picked up the fan from the ground, where Shen Qingqiu had apparently dropped it.

“Many thanks, shidi,” Shen Qingqiu hastily hid his burning cheeks behind it.

“No need. Are you staying for tea?”

Liu Qingge’s tea was always top-notch, and before his wedding Shen Qingqiu would have gladly accepted the invitation… but he was already late.

“Some other time. Binghe must be worried.”

“Who?”

Liu Qingge looked at Shen Qingqiu uncomprehendingly. Shen Qingqiu frowned.

“You’re pretending not to know him now? It’s your business, of course, but personally I think it’s too childish.”

“Not to know whom?” Liu Qingge’s bafflement seemed genuine, and Shen Qingqiu felt worried. Liu Qingge wasn’t a good actor.

“Luo Binghe? My husband?”

“Husband?.. What are you talking about? You’re married?”

Liu Qingge looked so lost Shen Qingqiu couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. There could be no mistake: Liu-shidi had been affected by a curse and had lost his memory.

“Shidi, do you trust me?”

Liu Qingge nodded without the slightest hesitation.

“Very well. Then can you please do as I ask? Go home, stay with Yang Yixuan, and I’ll call Mu-shidi, all right? I think you may be under a spell.”

Liu Qingge frowned incredulously, but nodded. Shen Qingqiu walked his shidi home.

“Promise me not to go anywhere. Try to speak to Yang Yixuan, find out what you could’ve missed or forgotten… speak to your sister too.”

“What sister?” Liu Qingge was still looking at Shen Qingqiu with suspicion. Shen Qingqiu felt dizzy.

“Your sister, shidi. Liu Mingyan. Have you?..”

“I’ve never had a sister,” Liu Qingge said without a trace of doubt. “And we’re both flying to Mu Qingfang… let him decide who’s right.”

Mu Qingfang confidently sided with Liu Qingge. Mu Qingfang didn’t remember about Luo Binghe’s and Liu Mingyan’s existence. Neither did Ming Fan, Ning Yingying and other people whom Shen Qingqiu managed to interrogate before Mu Qingfang prescribed him peace and bed rest. Lying in his bedroom in the bamboo hut, Shen Qingqiu wrapped himself in the blanket and pondered.

The reality had somehow changed in the course of one night: Luo Binghe and Liu Mingyan had disappeared. No one remembered about the Maigu ridge events; the shitty porn books were also forgotten, even the copy Binghe had once brought home disappeared from the shelf. Anding Peak was no longer managed by Shang Qinghua, but by a woman Shen Qingqiu didn’t know. And Liu Qingge had two younger brothers instead of a beautiful sister. 

***

Lan Wangji was looking at a chopped-off head. The head was looking back at him.

Lan Wangji had never encountered such monsters before: the head wasn’t decomposing, attacking passersby or trying to suck out his yang energy, but it started such a huge storm that only a dozen people in the three coastal villages survived. Other cultivators would likely kill the dangerous creature immediately, but Lan Wangji hesitated. The remains seemed human – which meant the deceased had to be interrogated first to find out what was holding him in this world.

Lan Wangji sat on the ground, put the head in front of him and took Wangji out of a qiankun bag. His fingers lay on the strings.

‘What is your name?’

‘It doesn’t matter anymore.’

Curious. Ordinary dead wouldn’t be able to evade the question if it was asked by Lan Wangji… but he’d known immediately that his find was anything but ordinary.

‘How did you die?’

‘My head was torn off.’

Lan Wangji suppressed the feeling that the dead man was mocking him.

‘Who killed you?’

‘Why do you care?’

‘I could help you go in peace.’

‘And what would you want for that? An underwater treasure?’

‘Nothing. I’m a cultivator, it is my duty to put those like you to rest.’

‘Everyone wants something for their work.’

Lan Wangji frowned. He didn’t want to argue with the dead man, besides, he wasn’t good at word play. Putting more spiritual power into the melody, Lan Wangji asked again.

‘Who killed you?’

‘Even if I answer, what are you going to do?’

‘Find that person and bring him to justice.’

Lan Wangji definitely heard mockery in the answering melody.

‘No need. Trust me, he’s already gotten what he deserved. If you interfere, you’ll only make it worse.’

Well… the dead man’s wish wasn’t revenge. Had he come back for his loved ones?

‘Do you have family?’

‘I do, and if you touch him, you’ll end up wishing you were like me.’

‘Are you here to protect him? Help him?’

‘Protect from what? The danger is over. And he’s no longer on his own.’

Not loved ones, then. What was it that prevented the dead man from resting in peace?

‘Do you have regrets?’

‘None. I lived the way I wanted and died the way I chose. Then he said, I could live after forgetting him or die knowing he was alive and safe. I made my choice.’

Lan Wangji was slightly curious what the dead man was talking about, but he’d already understood asking the strange creature again was meaningless. Anyway, he got the main idea: it wasn’t about regrets.

‘What wish is holding you in this world?’

‘No wish. I would have left a long time ago if I had a body.’

‘Do you know where your body is now?’

‘The bottom of the sea. You can’t reach it.’

Lan Wangji stood up, hid Wangji in one qiankun and put the head in another one. True, he wouldn’t be able to get to the bottom of the sea… but it did not befit a noble man to be afraid of hardships.

***

White No-Face waved his arm, and the whelp fell on the ground howling. Faces appeared all over his body – screaming, wailing, whispering curses. Funny… how many people had this sorry excuse of a demon killed? And their hatred for him was so powerful… White No-Face had never seen anything like that either in Tonglu, or in Xianle.

Suppressing his disappointment, White No-Face slowly approached the throne, spread the hems of his white clothes and calmly sat down. The little demon’s subordinates and wives uncertainly moved around, reluctant to do anything: from what White No-Face had gathered, the little demon had been the local emperor and the strongest cultivator who’d conquered the three realms. No one could compare to him in terms of power; of course, all servants were scared of the stranger who’d destroyed their 'lord' with one careless gesture. Boring. White No-Face hoped this strange new world would have more surprises for him.

***

Tianlang-jun looked around in bafflement: he’d just been celebrating in a small settlement, flirting left and right with young maidens, then a ray of light had fallen on him and something like a teleportation array had sent Tianlang-jun… somewhere. A road paved with gold was under his feet, palaces standing on both sides of the road – impressive but fairly dilapidated. His nephew was nowhere to be seen.

Zhuzhi-lang was no longer a child and could find him if he wanted, so Tianlang-jun went to investigate the new lands. He was terribly curious where he was, how he’d ended up here, what was there to see… Unfortunately, the streets were quiet, with no passersby. Tianlang-jun tried to enter one palace, admired the decorations, got bored and left.

Aimlessly roaming the streets soon became melancholic. Tianlang-jun covered his eyes and released his energy: this way it was easier to feel living beings nearby. He immediately noticed a few bright spots not far away: cultivators, judging by their burning qi. Well, right now Tianlang-jun was willing to take what he could get.

The palace his feelings led him to wasn’t as extravagant as the ones near it. Its inside was an awful mess: desks buried under piles of paper, ink blocks lying on the ground; three identical girls were running around as if stung by blighted hornets, and didn't even notice a new face – a very pretty face! – so Tianlang-jun went forth instead of distracting them.

He quickly noticed the decorations of this palace weren’t as opulent as the previous ones'. The walls were covered in book shelves from top to bottom; no gold, no marvellous marble floors, no statues. Disappointed, Tianlang-jun exited to the garden. It was also nothing to write home about: all very strict, gray and dull, no interesting bright flowers or fruit trees.

An alcove could be seen deep in the garden; a slender maiden curled up on a bench inside. After coming closer Tianlang-jun realised he’d judged the garden prematurely: there was only one flower, but bright enough to light everything around with its beauty. Now the maiden was crying her heart out, but neither her reddened eyelids, nor the puffed nose spoilt her looks.

“What happened?” Tianlang-jun came closer, gave the maiden a piece of cloth he’d found nearby, bent over and ‘accidentally’ cast a glance at her chest, rising and falling from her sobs. “And may I find out your name?”

“They hate me,” the maiden spoke through her nose, deftly putting the cloth on her face. That turned out to be some sort of a veil that the beauty must have thrown away in the heat of emotions. Perhaps she was from a nomadic tribe? Or from the far west? Tianlang-jun had heard that in some lands women were forbidden to show their faces.

“Impossible!” Tianlang-jun said confidently. “No one in their right mind would hate you! I wouldn’t.”

The beauty sniffed.

“They think a woman can’t be a literature goddess. They burn my books, say they’re immoral and spread depravities. Send me rubbish instead of offerings… a few days ago my subordinates found a few chi of white burlap covered in blood. Before that there was a white scarf with the words ‘hang yourself on it’. And the essays… that I’m a no-good, that my books and songs are harmful, that I should be ashamed of myself. All of my admirers left, only three the most devoted ones stayed. My brother disappeared somewhere. I’m trying to deal with all of it, but they don’t even pray properly, just curse instead of asking for things.”

A ’literature goddess’? Well, that explained a lot. Of course, a beauty like that must have been at the very least a divine being.

“Don’t believe that nonsense! I haven’t read your books, but I’m sure they aren’t so bad. After all, people are just jealous of you! Exaggerating!” Tianlang-jun said with feeling. He slightly hoped that the maiden, speechless from the praise, would want to cry on his wide manly chest, and then… then they’d figure it out.

“Exactly, you haven’t read them,” the beauty lowered her gaze. “Although perhaps you’ve heard some? Resentment of Chunshan?”

“You’re the author?” now Tianlang-jun’s admiration turned sincere. “Don’t listen to anyone’s badmouthing! Brilliant turns of phrase, easily understandable plot, wonderful melody… I know the song by heart! The characters might have been a little better though…”

The beauty – Liusu Mianhua, if Tianlang-jun remembered correctly, – cheered up, but then immediately pouted.

“What’s wrong with the characters?”

“How do I put it… I liked Immortal master Shen, a lot! A curious person, I wouldn’t mind a chance to know him better. But Luo Binghe… I don’t know, I just think master Shen deserved better. For example, a modest but sincere and loyal youth with eyes as deep and clear as a mountain lake. The youth may be a half-demon, but without human blood, and dream of protecting Shen Qingqiu from the horrors of the cultivation world…”

“Nonsense!” Liusu Mianhua jumped off the bench. “Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe should be together! It’s a story of a passionate love! Take the moment when Luo Binghe thought himself unworthy of master Shen and believed that only when master Shen lost everything, including his reputation, Luo Binghe would have a chance to get close to him…”

“What’s so good about that? An incredibly selfish motivation! The youth I’m talking about would only slander Shen Qingqiu to protect him and take him to a safe place. And would never touch him without permission.”

“Boring and dry! Where’s the passion, the fight, the spark between the two lovers, the hurdles to overcome? No one wants to read a story where the characters simply love each other! You need at least one attempt to coerce, take by force…”

“You don’t understand anything!”

“No, you don’t understand anything!”

The beauty straightened her back, stomped her foot, glared, and Tianlang-jun realised that he was gone. And that they’d argue for a very, very long time.

***

A tour of the palace didn’t take long and was fairly disappointing: heavenly officials’ castles had been way more opulent. The servants were leading their new master to the treasury, the harem, the garden without questions. The first time White No-Face felt something akin to curiosity was when he heard of a prison: judging by the stories, the little demon had been incredibly vindictive; White No-Face wondered whether he’d thought of something really unusual, or whether he'd been a mediocrity even in torture.

The waterfall and the acid lake left White No-Face unimpressed, but the stump hanging in the middle of the island… With a wave of his hand White No-Face relieved his attendants, waited for them to close the door and only then approached the prisoner.

“Hello there… Never expected for us to meet in such circumstances.”

The lord of Black Waters, who was hanging on the chains, raised the burning gaze of a single eye. White No-Face smirked. Well, there seemed to be something worthy in the palace after all.

“I’ve seen a lot of your body doubles in heaven, of course… but as far as I remember, this is the first time we officially meet. So let us get acquainted, student He. You must have already realised who I am.”

The lord of Black Water – student He – snarled but stayed silent. White No-Face raised an eyebrow, then, struck by the sudden thought, clutched the prisoner’s jaw and made him open his mouth. Just like he expected, there was no tongue behind three rows of sharp teeth.

“A spy without a tongue, hands, an eye… Now, it seems the princeling did have some imagination after all. One might even say I underestimated him… no wonder. He was so weak; I can’t fathom how you’ve lost to him. You’ve survived in the Tonglu mountain, you must know how to fight… or did your little friend Blood Rain carry you on his back the whole way?”

Surprise flashed in He Xuan’s only remaining eye. White No-Face smirked, even though he knew his expression was hidden behind the mask.

“Oh yes, I know that too. You two aren’t anywhere near as smart as you believe yourselves to be… nor are you experienced enough. Although your effort is worthy of admiration. Perhaps if your friend decides to get you out, he can take a place of honour next to you.”

He Xuan closed his eye; his emaciated face twisted in a stubborn expression.

“What shall I do with you?” White No-Face asked with fake pity, knowing his victim wouldn’t reply. No matter: all of them broke down sooner or later. Even Xianle, although he’d outlasted all others. “I know! I shall keep you. I’ve wanted to get a pet for a long time, and a Supreme demon without his fangs is a great trophey.”

White No-Face stretched his hand out and tenderly moved He Xuan’s tangled, blood-marred hair out of his face. He Xuan showed no emotions; never mind. They had time. Of course, if the boy wanted, he could dissipate, leave this world and the enemy behind, but White No-Face didn’t believe that. People like student He never gave up. People like student He waited for centuries to get out and take revenge. He was just unlucky that this time the enemy was out of reach.

“We shall meet again… Lord Blackwater.”

***

“Ascension?” Tianlang-jun repeated perplexedly. Mingyan nodded.

“You must have accomplished a great feat. Defeated a powerful monster, for instance,” Mingyan suddenly turned sad. “Or… I don’t know, saved a lot of people from a disaster. Or gained great fame… has anyone written songs about you?”

Tianlang-jun shrugged. He remembered how he and his nephew had almost accidentally protected some merchants from a herd of terrified bronze bulls, helped a far-off village suppress a spirit that had been bothering the villagers, killed a corrupt civil servant, but that nonsense could hardly count as great feats. It must have been the Heavenly Demon blood – people said Heavenly Demons had once lived among deities.

Anyway, Tianlang-jun now understood the gist of the situation. Heavenly officials became more powerful when they received offerings. People brought offerings as gratitude for fulfilled prayers. In order to fulfil prayers one would have to listen to them and separate them into suitable and unsuitable… although Tianlang-jun intended to leave this headache to his nephew. He was more interested in something else.

“Are we the only heavenly officials in the Celestial Empire? There are many palaces, yet I haven’t seen their inhabitants. Is everyone busy?”

Mingyan hesitated.

“As far as I know, there was a huge cataclysm recently. The heavenly officials are missing… there is a popular legend in the mortal world about the Heavenly Emperor seeking out his loyal servants and helping them come back, lest the heaven falls. I don’t know if it’s true… I’ve wanted to look for them myself, hoped to meet my brother – he loves tough fights and constantly gets into the heat of battle. But then there were all those prayers, insults for the most part… and I still have to listen to them to understand what they’re about and if there’s anything important.”

Tianlang-jun stopped her with a gesture.

“Worry not! Since we need to gather the lost heavenly officials, we shall do so. The Heavenly Emperor is already here, am I not?” he winked, and Mingyan blushed for a moment.

Previously Tianlang-jun had been a demon king. He’d never ruled heavenly officials… but he’d once resolved a long-standing feud between the blue-skinned southern tribe and the Mobei clan, so he would be able to easily deal with the heavenly officials’ squabbles.

***

“Let’s be honest with each other,” Shen Qingqiu tried to look like a cold and aloof villain. “You’re not of this world.”

The new Anding peak lord – Ling Wen – tensely nodded. Shen Qingqiu tried to make his sigh of relief inconspicuous. Perhaps it wasn’t as bad as he’d expected.

“Very well. Do you know what is going on?”

“I don’t,” Ling Wen’s voice was surprisingly low. “I fell asleep in my palace and woke up here. People around me were calling me a ‘peak lord’ and asking for instructions. I helped them. No one noticed anything amiss. I tried a few ways to dispel an illusion, but they didn’t work.”

“Because it’s not an illusion. Do you… remember the world you’re from?”

“Of course,” Ling Wen said shortly and immediately went silent. Shen Qingqiu just sighed.

“Was there something in your world that could create a situation like this? An artifact or…”

“I don’t know. If I had access to my palace, I’d make my subordinates find the information or die trying, but here…”

Shen Qingqiu shook his head.

“Our library has no answers. Trust me, I’ve been looking for days. Well… I’ll continue searching, you can also carefully question the people around. As far as I’ve seen, only the two of us remember the past. The others notice nothing strange, they’re not bothered even by direct questions. So don’t be afraid to give yourself away with a careless word.”

“Tell me about this place,” Ling Wen asked suddenly when Shen Qingqiu was about to leave.

“This is Cangqiong mountain sect. Now it’s the most powerful cultivation sect in the world. It consists of twelve peaks; you’re the lord of the fourth peak, Anding, it’s in charge of supply and administrative business.”

“Anding peak lord,” Ling Wen repeated slowly, as if pondering over something.

“That’s right,” Shen Qingqiu didn’t want to waste time when he could be looking for a way to bring his husband back. “You may ask other peak lords for advice… Qi Qingqi, for instance. She’ll likely help you out of female solidarity.”

“How many of the peak lords are women?” Ling Wen asked sharply.

“Five in this generation,” Shen Qingqiu replied, slightly surprised. Ling Wen’t expression confused him. “Is something wrong?”

“And no one objects? Is everyone fine with that?”

“As far as I know… who is there to object?”

Ling Wen shook her head and stood up.

“Thank you for the advice. I should indeed go speak to maiden Qi.”

“Qi-shimei,” Shen Qingqiu corrected automatically. Ling Wen gave him a bland smile and left. Looking at her back, Shen Qingqiu waved his fan and tried to get rid of the feeling he’d made a mistake.

***

Ship was rocking on the waves, and Shang Qinghua pressed his hand to his mouth before he’d had time to properly wake up. It was useless: he couldn’t suppress his urge to vomit. Thankfully, someone almost immediately gave him a wooden bucket, carefully pulled his loose hair out of his face and held him by the nape. Shang Qinghua tried to squeak out something grateful, but then leaned over the bucket again, barfed out the contents of his stomach and finally went quiet.

The stranger, who was covered up to his throat in unadorned but durable clothes, helped Shang Qinghua wipe and rinse his mouth, replace his dirty shirt, then apologised and left the… cabin? Where Shang Qinghua somehow ended up even though he clearly remembered falling asleep back at Anding peak while working through the quarterly reports.

Shang Qinghua looked around. Well, it wasn’t a luxury suite, of course, – not that he’d ever been in any luxury suite in his life, even the cheapest one, – but it was tolerable. There were two bunks, one taken by Shang Qinghua himself, another one, apparently, by the thoughtful stranger. Something like a chest was fixed under the stranger’s bunk; Shang Qinghua looked around, intending to use his companion’s absence to go through the contents of it, but the first attempt to rise made his stomach jump to his throat. Shang Qinghua accepted his defeat and leaned on a hard pillow.

He’d been suffering from travel sickness all his life. When he’d been seven, his parents had chosen to celebrate his father’s promotion with a voyage on a liner, and the little not-yet-Shang-Qinghua had been vomiting up his gastric juices from the moment he'd stepped on the deck. They’d had to get off at the first port and come back home by train, where Shang Qinghua had still felt sick but had been able to hold back his nausea. He'd hated cars, buses, trolleys, and the thought of airplanes had made him balk in horror. It hadn’t become easier even after his reincarnation in the world of “Proud Immortal Demon Way”: Shang Qinghua used any chance to avoid flying on his sword and didn’t particularly like travelling in carts either. Good thing he’d come up with and written medicine that could temporarily suppress sickness and nausea! Shang Qinghua had a large stock of it at home and never departed without it.

Now he apparently had to wait for his companion. Simulate a memory loss, question him about where they were, what was going on, where they were going… There was no point in crying: his tears and pathetic appearance would hardly help now. Shang Qinghua carefully tried to call the System, but received no reply. Perhaps it was for the best: at least no one could make him “follow the plot”… if the plot even existed.

He should start with gathering some information. Shang Qinghua was a shitty cultivator in his martial siblings’ eyes, but he could still do something: for example, send his spiritual energy to his ears to eavesdrop on important conversations even a kilometer away.

Waves were making noise behind the wall, someone was screaming in an unknown language – giving orders, judging by the tone, – but Shang Qinghua concentrated and was able to single out his companion’s voice from the cacophony.

“…Doesn’t feel well. No matter: we still have three months of travel ahead.”

Shang Qinghua suppressed his nausea. Three months?! He wouldn’t survive it!

“Sect leader, we could stop at a port and buy medicine there.”

“Absolutely not,” Shang Qinghua’s companion said sharply. The person talking to him hastily mumbled an apology.

“Why not, Mingshan?” someone else joined the conversation. If their voice was any indication, they weren’t very young. “First you come back alone, without your people, say they’ve died on Luanzang, then you make us gather on the ship without any explanation…”

“I don’t have to explain anything,” Mingshan’s voice turned cold. His conversation partner huffed angrily, then Shang Qinghua heard the sound of someone unsheathing their sword. “Or is my word not enough for anyone here?”

The conversation was immediately over. Shang Qinghua buried himself in the blankets and started absorbing the information. So, his companion turned out to be an important figure: a “sect leader”, even. Which sect? He was apparently running away, having taken only a few people with him… and Shang Qinghua, most likely: Mingshan cared after him so tenderly, he wouldn’t do that for a stranger. Besides, the “sect leader” would have some money for his own cabin.

His musings were interrupted by a knock on the door. Mingshan entered, holding a tray with a sealed bottle.

“Drinking water,” he explained, seeing Shang Qinghua’s surprise. Shang Qinghua wondered how he should call his new acquaintance. 'Sect leader'? Or use his name after all? Unsuspecting, Mingshan put the bottle on his bunk, took a few qiankun bags out of the chest, then pulled out some dried herbs, threw a handful into a deep cup, then poured some water into it and drew an array on the cup with his finger. Steam rose from the water; Mingshan blew on it, poured some more cold water and brought the cup to Shang Qinghua’s lips.

“Drink, you’ll feel better.”

Shang Qinghua felt the familiar smell of a tisane against travel sickness and downed the cup in one gulp.

“Thank you,” after a short contemplation Shang Qinghua chose to take a risk, “Mingshan.”

Mingshan beamed at him. Shang Qinghua smiled back: he was right! A sect leader would hardly care so much for an ordinary adept. No, in his eyes Shang Qinghua was an equal, or at least someone valuable.

The potion worked fast, and Shang Qinghua was finally able to stand up. It was hard to keep his balance, but Mingshan immediately held him by the elbow.

“Careful… I’ll help you.”

“Mingshan, you’re indispensable,” Shang Qinghua said with feeling. He was rewarded with another blissful smile. Well, it seemed Mingshan thought highly of him… very highly. It was time to act: the three months of traveling together might ruin Mingshan’s feelings for his companion. “I’m sorry, but… I must have had a minor qi deviation… I barely remember anything. I mean, I know the herbs that were used for this potion, I know the array you’ve drawn, but as for the events of my life, the people, the faces… they’re all lost. I’m afraid that’s beyond retrieval. I don’t even know where we’re going and why.”

Mingshan’s expression turned more and more complicated; then he frowned and fell deep in thought.

“No memory?.. Perhaps it’s for the best. There was too much grief and injustice in your life. We’re going to Dongying now: no one knows us there, no one will be looking for us. We’ll start a new life…”

They must have been escaping something, Shang Qinghua concluded. Or someone. He could think about it later: for now Mingshan’s gaze made him tense. His eyes were burning so brightly they might set the ship on fire.

“Wait… you don’t remember anything? Guangyin temple? The Koi Tower? Lan Xichen? Nothing?”

Shang Qinghua nodded uncertainly.

“But you remember me?”

Shang Qinghua was unable to suppress his nervous laughter and rushed to fix the blunder.

“How could I forget you, Mingshan?”

Mingshan suddenly fell on his knees and pressed his forehead to Shang Qinghua’s hip.

“I… thank you, oh, thank you! Chief Cultivator… I swear, I’ll never let you down again! I’ll follow you for eternity!”

Shang Qinghua buried his left hand in Mingshan’s hair, his fingers sliding on the nape. Mingshan shuddered but didn’t pull away, and Shang Qinghua started petting him like a giant cat.

No one had ever knelt for Shang Qinghua.

No one had ever sworn loyalty to him.

No one had ever cared for him so tenderly.

‘Chief cultivator’, huh?.. Shang Qinghua had never been chief anything. He wasn’t even respected on his own peak, sometimes his adepts openly mocked him.

He could stay in this unknown world for a little while longer. It couldn’t be worse than “Proud Immortal Demon Way”.

***

Lan Wangji didn’t even know himself why he wanted to go to Yiling so desperately. The area wasn’t remarkable in any way, the barriers around the Burial Mounds remained strong, and Lan Wangji expected to find neither monsters nor any unusual events there. Yet he kept coming back time and again, sometimes even taking a detour after – or during – missions.

This time was different. The dwellers were avidly discussing news: allegedly an immortal cultivator had made his home on the Burial Mounds and sometimes came to the market to shop. Everyone who’d met the cultivator described him differently: some people confidently said they’d never seen such a beauty in their lives, others told of blood-curdling deformities; some claimed the cultivator was incredibly strong, others mocked the “simpleton”. However, Lan Wangji didn’t believe the latter: a simpleton wouldn’t survive on the Burial Mounds.

Feeling his heart beating in his throat, Lan Wangji approached the base of the mountain. Surprisingly, the barriers let him through without any effort, even though Lan Wangji saw a few recently-drawn talismans among old arrays. He didn’t recognise the handwriting.

Soon Lan Wangji felt someone watching him and stopped.

“I came in peace. Apologies for the intrusion.”

“That’s all right,” a young man wearing a bamboo hat came out of the shadows. Not very tall for a cultivator – shorter than Lan Wangji himself, – with a clean and handsome face and a clear gaze. That must have been the cultivator that had taken up residence on the mountain. Lan Wangji felt disappointed and didn’t know why. What had he expected to find here?

The young man stepped forth, folded his hands in a greeting gesture and bowed respectfully. Lan Wangji did the same.

“Good afternoon, young master. My name is Lian, surname Xie. My abilities are very limited, but perhaps I could help you with something?”

Xie Lian’s voice was clear and bright, with a barely noticeable accent, but the turn of phrase clearly showed him to be an educated man. Lan Wangji adjusted to his manner of speaking before he knew it.

“I am Lan Wangji of the Lan clan; I was passing by and heard of an immortal having claimed the mountain. My apologies for distracting you… to be honest, I came without a purpose.”

The reply was too easy and frivolous, but Lan Wangji didn’t want to explain to a stranger how he’d felt drawn to the mountain. Not that he was able to: he could barely justify it to himself.

“That’s quite all right!” Xie Lian waved his hands. “Perhaps you would like to rest after your travels? Our home isn’t wealthy, but there is enough space for a guest.”

“Our home? You’re not living on your own?”

Lan Wangji felt hope again, even if he didn’t know for what. Xie Lian beamed at him; his polite smile turned warm and loving.

“Yes, my… companion is at home now. We’ve only arrived to the area recently and were hoping to avoid attention.”

“So there are only the two of you?”

“Yes, just me and San Lang. Is something the matter, young master Lan?”

Lan Wangji shook his head. He didn’t know what he had been hoping to find here, so why was he so painfully sad?

A slender youth came out to meet them; his face was hidden in shadows, but his lean figure and the red ribbon braided in his hair made Lan Wangji’s heart skip a beat. However, the illusion was quickly gone: the youth stepped into the sunlight, and Lan Wangji clearly saw he didn’t resemble…

Whom?

“Gege, do we have guests?” the youth gave them a charming smile, with dimples appearing on his cheeks. Now Lan Wangji could see that ‘San Lang’ was slightly younger than Xie Lian: Xie Lian himself seemed about seventeen, and San Lang was no older than fifteen. They chatted like old friends or brothers – understanding each other without words, finishing each other’s sentences. Then they laughed in unison.

What did two youths have to do in one of the cultivation world’s most dangerous places?

Now, basked in sunlight, the Burial Mounds didn’t seem dangerous at all. Lan Wangji saw traces of old fires, saw some ruins far ahead, but fresh grass was growing on the earth touched by war and death, and green leaves were fluttering on maple trees. Still, Lan Wangji wasn’t deceived: no one had left the Burial Mounds alive, at least until those two.

His heart ached again. Lan Wangji rubbed his forehead and forced himself to calm down.

“Why did you choose to settle here?”

“This place… had been badly damaged,” Xie Lian replied after a pause; the accent in his voice became more noticeable. “I’ve made my home here because I wanted peace and solitude… then I decided I could help a little. Clean the earth from the dark energy, bury the bodies and release the souls.”

Lan Wangji felt ashamed. The man young enough to be his little brother took such a burden upon himself while Lan Wangji was neglecting his duty in favor of looking for heavens knew what. He was supposed to take care of business: find the unknown dead man’s body, give him a proper burial and come back home. To his brother.

Awkwardly excusing himself, Lan Wangji came down from the mountain. He didn’t go to the city; instead Lan Wangji found a remote clearing, took the head out of the qiankun and placed it across from himself, then took out his guqin.

‘Do you know where your body is?’

‘I can feel the direction.’

‘Good. We are going to go to the person who can help us get to the bottom of the sea. Apologies for the delay.’

The dead man didn’t reply. Lan Wangji thought the conversation over, when the guqin strings suddenly moved.

‘If you really gather my body and bury it with honours… I’ll tell you what you’ve forgotten and who you’re looking for.’

Lan Wangji gulped.

‘How can a stranger know anything about my soul?’

The phrase seemed odd, not in his usual style at all. Lan Wangji was certain he’d heard it from someone else, but he didn’t remember where or under what circumstances. The thought was on the tip of his tongue, it seemed like he just needed a little push to be able to say the name… but that was nothing more than an illusion.

The guqin strings sang again.

‘I know who arranged it. Even know why.’

‘And who was it? Why?’

‘To give me a decent burial, of course.’

The dead man went quiet after that phrase. Lan Wangji spent at least one insence stick sitting with his guqin, asking more and more questions, but he never received an answer: the dead man was remarkably powerful. It seemed that Lan Wangji had no choice but to obey his last wish… although he was going to do it anyway.

There was no reason to linger. Lan Wangji put away his things and went on the road.

***

“Didn’t I deal with you already?” White No-Face said perplexedly, looking at the boy. His face had no traces of the disease… had he healed himself? If so, he was to be captured and interrogated: White No-Face would stop at nothing for a chance to get rid of the sordid stuff once and for all.

“Not with me… and that won’t save you anyway,” the red mark on the boy’s forehead was burning like a flame, his eyes shining with grim madness. “That’s all your doing, isn’t it?”

‘Not with me’? They must have been twins. Pity, but there was no reason to hold back now. White No-Face stepped forward and appeared behind the little demon’s back; the whelp jerked aside, but he wasn’t fast enough. Both of them – the little emperor and this moron – were quite good for mortal cultivators, but had a long way to crawl until they could reach the level of a war god.

White No-Face grabbed the child by the neck and threw him onto the stones back-first. The boy immediately jumped on his feet, tried to reach his sword – an ordinary cultivator’s piece, not the demonic weapon his twin had used. Of course, White No-Face could have killed the whelp immediately, but… he seemed more fun than the previous one. The little emperor had been unable to believe that someone had been stronger than him up until the last moment. This little demon was scared of something, but was hiding his horror behind anger.

“What have you done to him?!” the little demon’s sword drew an arch, but White No-Face easily avoided the attack. He’d been fighting for more than a thousand years, and the mortal snotnose wasn’t a danger for him no matter how hard he tried. “Where is he? Where’s my shizun?!”

White No-Face froze, then grabbed the whelp’s wrist and broke the bone in one move. The whelp’s expression barely changed; the bone healed right under his fingers. Well… White No-Face squeezed his hand, breaking the little demon’s wrist in half.

“Next time I’ll tear it off,” he said with fake disinterest. “So you’re his disciple?”

This might have been a mistake. The whelp might be talking of another teacher… there were a lot of people White No-Face had killed. Still…

“Do you know where he is? What’s going on with him?! Answer me, you fiend!”

The boy rushed forward. White No-Face smirked under his mask – angrily and without a drop of genuine laughter – then pressed his palm to the boy’s face. The little demon had fewer sins than his twin, but still enough to ruin his pretty mien. One of the faces appeared right on the cheekbone, which made the little demon’s eye swell and almost close.

“Has he taken a disciple?” White No-Face leaned over the kneeling whelp and grabbed his hair, dragging him along. The whelp tried to strike, and White No-Face tore his hand off with a careless movement, just like he’d promised. “Does he think that he can replace me? That you’re better than me? Well… let’s see how you fare when you’re in my shoes. Let’s see how low you can fall once I’m done with you. And let’s see what your shizun is going to say if you dare to come back to him. Will he accept you, or will he leave you just like he’s left me?!”

***

Lan Wangji had never liked Yunmeng: it was too hot, too humid, too sticky. Too many mosquitoes buzzing in his ears. Too loud, mouthy people. Too spicy food. And yet the road took him there again and again. Lan Wangji even dimly remembered being eager to come here, again and again, to forget all inconveniences just so he could…

Could do what?

What good could possibly wait for him in Yunmeng? Why was Lan Wangji feeling like he was about to see an old friend? He didn’t have any close people here; yes, Lan Wangji had met Yunmeng dwellers on some gatherings, but he barely remembered their faces, let alone names. The only person Lan Wangji knew more or less well was Jiang Cheng: they’d fought side by side, they’d sat next to the same fires, discussing common issues. But Jiang Cheng wasn’t Lan Wangji’s friend; Lan Wangji couldn’t stand that person, openly despised him after…

After what?

Lan Wangji suddenly realised he didn’t remember when and why he’d had a falling out with Jiang Cheng. That scared and comforted him at the same time: something was amiss, the vague feeling of the world being wrong wasn’t just an illusion. The spirit of the dead man that Lan Wangji had taken an obligation to bury had also mentioned something similar and had promised to tell him the cause…

Well. Another reason to help him. And in order to do that, he needed to speak to Jiang Cheng: Yunmeng Jiang had a special relationship with water. If anyone could come up with a way to get a decapitated body from the bottom of the deep sea, that inventor would live in Yunmeng. Lan Wangji simply hoped Jiang Cheng also didn’t remember the reasons behind their mutual dislike: he’d still have to ask for help and promise something in return.

Lan Wangji didn’t like gossip, didn’t know how to discuss people behind their backs, but now he forced himself to listen to the merchants’ and passersby’s chatter. He needed to find out what was going on in Jiang Cheng’s domain, what mood he was in, whether he would agree to help. Thankfully, fortune quickly smiled upon Lan Wangji: a young adept in purple, eager to impress a pretty fruit seller, was bragging about their sect leader having caught a demonic cultivator recently.

His mood, already not too good, was completely ruined. Lan Wangji didn’t believe that the man Jiang Cheng had caught was guilty. Lan Wangji didn’t believe Jiang Cheng was hunting demonic cultivators in pursuit of justice. To be honest, Lan Wangji doubted Jiang Cheng was even looking for the proof of guilt, not just grabbing any fools with evil-summoning talismans who were unlucky enough to cross his path.

Lan Wangji confidently headed to the Lotus Pier gate, not letting his inner tumult show on his face. On the one hand, he should stand up for Jiang Cheng’s innocent victim. Take the person with him. Demand a fair trial: technically, demonic cultivation on its own wasn’t a crime. But that would ruin his relationship with Jiang Cheng even further, and Lan Wangji needed help. After a contemplation Lan Wangji deemed the still living demonic cultivator to be more important than a nameless spirit of the dead. After all, even if Jiang Cheng refused to help him, Lan Wangji could look for a solution in the library of his clan.

Yunmeng Jiang adepts, well-trained and short-spoken, led Lan Wangji to the guest pavilion, brought him some tea and bowed out to “report to the sect leader about the guest’s arrival”. Lan Wangji wondered whether he should go look for Jiang Cheng himself… but a stranger would hardly be allowed to roam the Jiang sect residence unsupervised. Lan Wangji was certain that even now someone was secretly watching him.

Finally Jiang Cheng entered the pavillion with heavy steps: he was habitually frowning and arrogant. Lan Wangji narrowed his eyes and bowed: as deep as it was necessary and not a cun lower. Jiang Cheng did the same and sat opposite him.

“Hanguang-jun. Your rare visits are always an honour for us.”

Each word was oozing poison. Lan Wangji reminded himself that he’d come to seek help: he wouldn’t be able to keep his silence.

“I’m afraid I am in need of sect leader Jiang’s assistance.”

“Oh,” Jiang Cheng smiled scantly. “And as far as I understand, the assistance is not for your clan’s benefit, otherwise your brother would be sitting here instead. Well, I am curious… let’s hear it.”

“But before that,” Lan Wangji continued, as if not hearing Jiang Cheng’s words, “I would like to ask you a question.”

“Ask,” Jiang Cheng curled his lips, and for a moment Lan Wangji felt happy that his behavior had offended and upset the person he disliked.

“On my way here I heard that sect leader Jiang had caught a demonic cultivator.”

Jiang Cheng raised an eyebrow, but stayed silent to show he still hadn’t heard any questions. Now it was Lan Wangji’s turn to get angry: people rarely managed to give him a taste of his own medicine.

“May I ask if that’s true?”

“Let’s say it is,” Jiang Cheng smirked, as if happy with something… or remembering something pleasant. Lan Wangji barely managed to suppress a shudder of disgust.

“I would like to speak with that person.”

“He’s already dead,” Jiang Cheng said with fake nonchalance. “Of course, I could call my adepts that were tasked to get rid of the body… if you’d like to claim the remains.”

Lan Wangji lowered his eyelashes and forced himself to calm down. He couldn’t lose his patience in a conversation with Jiang Cheng. He couldn’t stoop down to his level.

“I hope sect leader Jiang had sufficient proof of guilt.”

“Oh no, nowhere near sufficient,” Jiang Cheng laughed poisonously. “Only the words of the late Chang Ping… but he’d retracted his statement, had he not?”

Lan Wangji raised a disbelieving gaze to Jiang Cheng. Jiang Cheng curled his thin lips.

“Let us speak honestly, Hanguang-jun. I know what you think of me. I know you believe the scum that dies of my hands doesn’t really deserve death. It’s your business. But Xue Yang is a criminal, you know that as well as I do. He broke into the Lotus Pier a few days ago, tried to steal from me, and during the interrogation he mumbled something about ‘bringing everything back’… He acted like a madman. Do you think I treated him unjustly? Perhaps I should have brought the bastard to the next sect conference and put him on trial?”

Listening to Jiang Cheng’s reproach, Lan Wangji felt easier. He didn’t have to start a fight with Jiang Cheng, he didn’t have to waste his time on quarrels or doubt his choice. He could move straight to business.

Why had he even thought the demonic cultivator caught by Jiang Cheng had been innocent? Why had he accused Jiang Cheng so readily without trying to investigate first?

“Sect leader Jiang. You said you know how I think of you.”

“You certainly make no secret of it,” Jiang Cheng replied drily.

“And do you know why I think of you like that?”

“Enlighten me,” Jiang Cheng raised an eyebrow. Lan Wangji shook his head.

“That wasn’t a trick question. I don’t remember why we do not… get along.”

Jiang Cheng snorted, then froze, dumbfounded. Judging by his face, he was hastily remembering his past meetings with Lan Wangji… unable to find the answer.

“I also think,” Lan Wangji continued, “that I have forgotten something important. That it is somehow connected to Yunmeng… and to you. But my memory fails me.”

“You’ve disapproved of me for a long time,” Jiang Cheng said slowly. “But I’ve always believed that’s because of… because of…”

Jiang Cheng rubbed his forehead.

“What are you saying, Hanguang-jun? That someone erased our memories?” 

“Or cursed us. Or… I don’t know. However, recently I’ve encountered a spirit claiming he could reveal the secret.”

Jiang Cheng tensed and gestured for Lan Wangji to continue.

“The dead man is very powerful – far more powerful than any of those I’ve ever dealt with. Someone killed him and chopped his head off, hiding the body at the bottom of the sea. I need to get the body and give him a proper burial –the spirit promised to tell me the truth after that.”

Jiang Cheng only shook his head.

“You want me to drop everything and go heavens know where with you, find a way to get someone’s fish-eaten bones from the bottom of the sea, all in hopes of some suspicious spirit bringing light to the secret we’ve forgotten?”

“The head had started a few storms that claimed many lives. I am certain if we leave the body as it is, the trouble will not take long to appear,” Lan Wangji said drily. Jiang Cheng’s doubts were strange and unfamiliar to him: a worthy man didn’t need a reason to help those around him.

Jiang Cheng sighed.

“You’re lucky, Hanguang-jun, that it’s peaceful now and I have a free week for you. But only a week. Whether we find the remains or not, I’m going back to the Lotus Pier in seven days.”

Lan Wangji forced himself to fold his palms and bow.

“Thanking sect leader Jiang for his generosity.”

He knew his voice sounded dispassionate, but Jiang Cheng’s face still twisted in anger.

“How could I refuse you?”

***

The Blackwater Island was exactly like Tianlang-jun had imagined: a dark and gloomy place. Skeletons of giant fish were circling it, sometimes gnawing on the sunken ships’ remains. Although finding the island and getting there had been way easier that Tianlang-jun had expected.

Tianlang-jun felt too lazy to walk on the sand looking for any living beings, especially since he’d gone to the Black Waters on a detour: some sailors had complained that they had been unable to take a faster and more convenient way and had asked him to solve the issue, and his nephew had convinced him to fulfil their plea. There were no news on the missing heavenly officials yet, nor on Mingyan’s brother, and the heaven was badly shaken in their absense. The palaces had started chipping and collapsing, the fruits in the gardens had begun to rot, the large bronze bell had cracked. They needed new believers, and Tianlang-jun, the self-proclaimed emperor, had to work on that.

Releasing his demonic energy, Tianlang-jun immediately felt the presense of two living creatures on the island and went their way. Even if they were merely victims of a shipwreck, Tianlang-jun could get them home in exchange for a promise of prayers; and if the living knew what was going on here and how to stop it…

He didn’t feel any threat. He'd felt nothing at all – before a sword touched his ribs from the back, marking an attack. Tianlang-jun raised his arms and slowly turned around.

A man clothed in black was looking at him coldly. Though was he a man? No matter how hard Tianlang-jun tried, he was unable to feel any energy coming off him. If he closed his eyes, he wouldn’t notice the stranger’s presense at all.

That was scary. And exilarating.

“Lord Blackwater, I assume?”

The man in black nodded. Tianlang-jun bowed briefly.

“I am Tianlang-jun, the Heavenly Emperor. Nice to meet you.”

The man in black tilted his head, then lowered his sword and started writing on wet sand.

‘To what does my humble residence owe the pleasure?’

“Oh, a trifle thing: I just wanted to reach an agreement with you, so that you’d stop sinking ships that come to your waters. I’m sure that we’re both reasonable… beings and will be able to discuss the price.”

The man in black shook his head.

‘It wasn’t me who created the fog and the fish. Nor is it me who’s sinking ships. My companion is trying to help me break the spell, but he lacks spiritual power.’

Tianlang-jun perked up.

“I could help with that!” spiritual power was something Heavenly demons always had in abundance. “Will you introduce me to your companion?”

‘Know that I will not let you harm him. Will not let anyone harm him.’

After listening to a lengthy reassuarance that Tianlang-jun had no intention of harming anyone and was an incredibly harmless and peaceful guy, the Lord of Black Waters waved his hand and went forth. Tianlang-jun hurried after him.

Luck smiled upon him: there was a cultivator in white, looking like a heavenly official, in a gloomy dilapidated castle. He turned around after hearing footsteps, and Tianlang-jun saw that his eyes were covered with a snow-white bandage.

“Do we have guests, Zichen?”

For a moment Tianlang-jun wondered how a mute and a blind man were able to communicate. The mystery was immediately solved: a young girl jumped from behind the heavenly official’s back and read the message out loud.

“’The Heavenly Emperor has come to help us break the array’… Are you the Heavenly Emperor?” she cast a disdainful glance at Tianlang-jun.

“A-Qing,” the heavenly official said reproachfully, then turned to Tianlang-jun and bowed. “Xiao Xingchen, the god of wind, welcomes my lord.”

Tianlang-jun bowed back, even knowing his new acquaintance wouldn’t see it.

“Glad to meet you. As far as I understand, we’re both here to deal with the same disaster, right? And once the Black Water is safe again, will you return to Heaven with me?”

“I don’t even know,” Xiao Xingchen frowned in contemplation. “I wouldn’t want to leave Zichen alone…”

“Let him come too!” Tianlang-jun suggested generously. “You see, we have absolutely no one to fulfil the prayers now, and I don’t have any time left to look for other heavenly officials. And since I can’t find them, there’s no one to fulfil the prayers… it’s a vicious cycle.”

“In that case we have to help,” Xiao Xingchen said confidently. Tianlang-jun gave him a relieved smile in response.

“Well… the sooner we start, the sooner we finish! What kind of a complicated array are we dealing with?..”

***

Shen Qingqiu threw another useless scroll aside and buried his face in his palms with a groan.

Nothing. He’d gone through the entire library of Qingjing peak, the Qiongding peak archives, read every rough draft Airplane had left behind – good thing Ling Wen had kept them! – but found no clues about the cause of the situation. Airplane, damn him, was still missing, so there was no way to question him. How was Shen Qingqiu supposed to look for Binghe at a time like that? And Binghe must have been in danger, otherwise he’d have gone back to his husband a long time ago. The idea of his little black sheep being far away, alone, crying in despair, made Shen Qingqiu wince and rub his suddenly aching chest. No, he had to return everything to the way it had been!

A doorslam took him out of his grim thoughts.

“Leave the trophey at the clearing and go,” Shen Qingqiu yelled, knowing Liu Qingge wouldn’t be offended. The next moment he was harshly dragged to his feet.

“A demonic cuckoo. You’re coming with me.”

Shen Qingqiu perked up. A demonic cuckoo was a remarkably powerful, dangerous, vile and curious monster. Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t mind seeing it with his own two eyes… from behind Liu Qingge’s back, to stay safe and protected from any harm. Only when he reached the door did Shen Qingqiu suddenly remember he had more important business.

“Listen, I can’t. I’d be happy, but…”

“Have you found what you’re looking for?” Liu Qingge interrupted. Shen Qingqiu frowned and shook his head. Liu Qingge raised an eyebrow. “And how long have you been looking?”

Shen Qingqiu stayed silent. Liu Qingge huffed.

“You need a distraction. Perhaps then you’d have a good idea. Or at least some rest.”

Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t call a dangerous hunt “rest”, but Liu Qingge was right. Besides, that was “Proud Immortal Demon Way”, with plot devices lying under every bush. Perhaps the cuckoo’s appearance wasn’t a coincidence, and it was somehow connected to the trouble? Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t be surprised: the monster could manipulate reality. The more he thought, the more appealing he found the idea to agree to Liu Qingge’s proposal.

“Wait a bit,” Shen Qingqiu finally gave up. “Let me clean myself up.”

Liu Qingge scrutinised him.

“That wouldn’t hurt.”

Shen Qingqiu blushed and tried to pull his fan out of his sleeve, but his fingers found nothing. Liu Qingge habitually took a fan out of his clothes and gave it to Shen Qingqiu.

“Thank you,” Shen Qingqiu grabbed the handle, but Liu Qingge didn’t release the fan. Instead he stepped closer and looked into Shen Qingqiu’s eyes.

“Always. For you – always.”

Shen Qingqiu gulped. He wasn’t a fool… and was good at catching hints. He just… didn’t know what to say. Liu Qingge didn’t remember that Shen Qingqiu was married. Liu Qingge didn’t remember Huayue, the five years of fighting for the body, Maigu ridge. Liu Qingge was Shen Qingqiu’s closest friend in this world… in any world. Shen Qingqiu was terrified of losing him and didn’t want to push him away with a careless word.

The silence dragged on. Liu Qingge averted his gaze, and Shen Qingqiu was terrified that he’d try to make everything into a joke, say 'that’s not what I meant, forget it', look pitiful, and then Shen Qingqiu would have no choice but to agree, because he’d gotten used to it with Binghe. Shen Qingqiu couldn’t resist when someone was looking at him miserably and hinting 'it’s your fault I’m upset'.

Unsuspecting of Shen Qingqiu’s thoughts, Liu Qingge looked him straight in the face.

“You don’t have to answer right now. Think as long as you need – I won’t rush you.”

Shen Qingqiu nodded in gratitude. Liu Qingge released the fan and took a step away.

“Get cleaned up. I’ll wait outside.”

Shen Qingqiu hastily opened the fan and hid his burning cheeks behind it. When Liu Qingge got to the door, he turned around.

“Shen Qingqiu.”

“Yes?” Shen Qingqiu almost squeaked and tried to clean his throat as inconspicuously as he could. “What is it, shidi?”

“I’ll accept any answer. Any choice you make.”

Liu Qingge turned around and finally left, and it took Shen Qingqiu a lot of effort to remain in place: his relief and gratitude were so powerful Shen Qingqiu almost threw himself at his shidi. Whatever he chose, he wouldn’t have to lose Liu Qingge’s friendship. They’d spend a lot of time together tracking the cuckoo, and then…

Lost in his dreams, Shen Qingqiu almost walked into the doorframe. He had to hastily grab the wood to keep his balance. His fingers found a rough spot; Shen Qingqiu looked at the indentation in bafflement and suddenly remembered marking Binghe’s growth every three months.

His cheeks burned from shame. Binghe was still missing, and Shen Qingqiu almost agreed to a relationship with someone else! A bit longer – and he would’ve forgotten of his husband’s existence, absorbed in his thoughts of Liu Qingge!

Shaking his head, Shen Qingqiu changed his clothes for something clean and suitable for flying. He had to say ‘no’ to Liu Qingge as soon as possible. As soon as Shen Qingqiu stepped out the door… no, as soon as they dealt with the cuckoo, otherwise their whole hunt would be horribly awkward. After all, he had no reason to hurry. Binghe would never learn of the conversation unless Shen Qingqiu told him, so he’d have no reason to be jealous. And once Shen Qingqiu returned from the hunt, he’d resume his search. Perhaps Liu-shidi would even agree to help… keep him company. Shen Qingqiu imagined long evenings together in the library and couldn’t suppress a smile.

He had to think carefully before he made his choice, didn’t he?

***

After Xiao Xingchen and his silent companion had come to heaven, things went better: Tianlang-jun was relieved to hand over the prayers to him and dedicate his time to the search for other heavenly officials – and to his courtship with Mingyan. Sometimes these two pleasant activities could be combined into one: when Tianlang-jun and Liu Mingyan were sitting in her palace shoulder to shoulder looking through her subordinates’ reports to find anything unusual.

More often than not those mentions turned out to be nothing, but sometimes they hit the mark: that was how Tianlang-jun met Yushi Huang. Sadly, the rain master refused to come back to heaven, but she advised Tianlang-jun to visit a small settlement in the east.

The settlement proved too small and very well-hidden: Tianlang-jun and Zhuzhi-lang spent at least a shichen and a half wandering mountain paths until Zhuzhi-lang had an idea to catch and interrogate a local snake. Whoever had raised the shields around the godforsaken (ha!) village, they’d done a remarkable job. Tianlang-jun didn’t even feel any spiritual energy or presence of mortals until he punched his way through the dark energy veil.

Tianlang-jun let his nephew go and froze on the spot, perplexed. A strange creature was moving towards him, something the likes of which Tianlang-jun had never met: not dead, but definitely not alive, and strangely separated, but joined at the same time. The utter abnormality of the creature made Tianlang-jun sick. He barely managed to collect himself and prepared for a fight: there was nothing good to expect from this aberration.

Yet Tianlang-jun missed the first attack: a black chain slid on the ground and circled around his shin, sweeping his foot. Tianlang-jun fell down, rolled over, jumped back up and looked around.

A pale slender youth was standing next to him, the chains circling him like pet snakes. A silouette of another person could be seen further away… at least it seemed human. Tianlang-jun shook his head: those two didn’t look strange, but they felt… as one. Well, he met the abhorrent creature whose presence he’d sensed a long time ago. He didn’t know how two people could be one and the same, even though he felt some unhealthy curiosity.

“Who are you?” the youth with the chain asked, his voice strangely hoarse. “And why did you come here?”

“Tianlang-jun, the Heavenly Emperor, came following rain master Yushi Huang’s advice. And you are?..”

The youth slightly relaxed and called the chain away. His companion stepped out of the tree shadow, and Tianlang-jun couldn’t hold back a sigh of admiration at the sight of his broad shoulders, his hair, messily tied with a red ribbon, his tanned chest visible in the low neck of his clothing, his narrow waist… If this young man wasn’t something weird and unnatural – and if Tianlang-jun’s heart hadn’t been given to the most beautiful goddess in heavens, – Tianlang-jun would try and make a pass at him.

“Wei Wuxian, Wushangxie-zun,” the beautiful stranger introduced himself with a light smile, twirling a bamboo flute in his fingers. “Accompanied by Wen Ning, the Ghost General. May I ask what brought the Heavenly Emperor to our humble village… and if the Emperor has any wine?”

Tianlang-jun did have some wine with him: he’d taken it following Yushi Huang’s advice. Wei Wuxian cheered up and asked Tianlang-jun to share a meal with them to celebrate the acquaintance, which Tianlang-jun gladly agreed to: even if Wei Wuxian was an unknown, he was clearly powerful.

When they approached the settlement, a tiny human child ran out to meet them. Wei Wuxian laughed and took them in his arms, put the child on his hip. The child laughed back and encircled Wei Wuxian’s neck with their slender arms.

“Xian-gege, do we have guests?”

“That’s right, A-Yuan!” Wei Wuxian laughed. “So run to Qing-jie and tell her to come out and meet the esteemed master. All right?”

“I’m already here,” a tall tanned womann said harshly, wiping her hands with a towel. “A-Yuan, go to your grandma… Wei Ying, who did you bring?”

“This is Qing-jie, a goddess of healing,” Wei Wuxian released the child and turned to Tianlang-jun. “She’s our leader.”

“Did you install the barrier around the settlement?” Tianlang-jun asked curiously when the introductions were over. Wen Qing shook her head.

“No, that was Wei Ying. He’s also a former heavenly official, by the way… he left the Heaven and had a falling out with everyone to protect my family.”

“I see… Well, I’m happy to inform you that Heaven has changed for the better. Personally, I have no intention of denying Wei Wuxian the right to take his well-earned position among my subjects… whatever Wei Wuxian is.”

Wen Qing raised an eyebrow. Tianlang-jun spread his arms.

“I couldn’t help but notice the connection between him and his… Ghost General? An unnatural connection.”

“Hey!” Wei Wuxian snapped. “We might be cutsleeves, but that doesn’t mean you’re allowed to insult us!”

Tianlang-jun choked and waved his arms.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant! I’m saying that you feel as one entity… I don’t care about your preferences!”

Wei Wuxian glared at Tianlang-jun for a few moments, his gaze strangely perceptive, then relaxed.

“That’s a, hm, side effect. You see, our Wen Ning is a little dead… or he was until very recently. We’re working on it.”

Tianlang-jun internally admired the gall behind such a statement. However, that wasn’t what he said out loud.

“Will you come back to Heaven? We already have an… alternatively-alive, erm, heavenly official. I think you two could find common ground.”

“Are you talking about daozhang Song Zichen?” Wei Wuxian snorted. “We’re acquainted. And if he and Xiao Xingchen confirm that Heaven really changed and it’s safe to come back there… then why not? A-Yuan will play with golden foil, Uncle Four will make wine out of the garden fruits, others will find themselves something to do as well.”

Tianlang-jun felt that Wei Wuxian wasn’t serious, and there was even some bitter mockery in his words, but he didn’t pay much attention to it. Heavens needed people way more than nonsense like golden toys, and Tianlang-jun was willing to gift every one of Wei Wuxian’s wards their own palace to get a goddess of healing and a god of… war? Element? Whatever Wei Wuxian’s domain was.

***

The voyage to the sea took three days; they travelled in a richly decorated boat. Lan Wangji found the ostentatious show of wealth repulsive, he didn’t like being in the same narrow quarters as Jiang Cheng, but their time was limited, so Lan Wangji clenched his teeth and forced himself not to show any signs of displeasure. Thankfully, the dead man didn’t turn violent or try to get out of the qiankun, and he showed the direction without arguments. When asked how they were going to get the body, Jiang Cheng reluctantly said he had an idea, but refused to elaborate.

They soon found out their arrival wasn’t in vain: the people at the port spoke of nothing but ships missing without a trace. There had been no storms or attacks, the ships had simply disappeared. Lan Wangji gave Jiang Cheng a meaningful glance, but Jiang Cheng huffed back, obviously not considering himself in any way obligated to help the sailors without payment.

They had to mount their swords to go above the sea. Jiang Cheng flew surrounded by his adepts and holding a compass of ill winds. Lan Wangji bowed and gave the dead man’s head to a Yunmeng Jiang cultivator with a plain and unremarkable face: even Lan Wangji wouldn’t be able to play the qin and hold something in his hands at the same time. The compass and the dead man’s directions helped them find the location fairly quickly. Jiang Cheng signalled to his adepts, and they quickly arranged into an air formation Lan Wangji wasn’t acquainted with, as if trying to make their bodies into conduits for an array. Then each adept pulled a talisman out of their sleeve, added a few lines drawn with their blood and set the array in the air. Lan Wangji squinted and was slightly surprised to realise a giant evil-summoning array was hanging over the sea surface.

The idea was simple yet elegant. Apparently, Jiang Cheng had no intention of diving to the bottom, but instead chose to lure the prey out. Lan Wangji simply had to wait and be ready for anything.

Soon the sky turned cloudy, the wind blew, and the adepts had to fly higher to escape the raising waves. Lan Wangji observed the beginning of the storm with worry. He’d heard the strongest fierce corpses were always accompanied by bad weather, but that was the first time he’d seen something like this.

How powerful was the unknown spirit? Who had he been in his lifetime?

The wind turned stronger. The sea waters formed a vortex leading straight to the sea bottom. The adepts had trouble staying on their swords, and Lan Wangji touched the qin strings to cover them with a shield. Jiang Cheng didn’t join him, although he hadn’t participated in the array formation either: judging by his expression, he was waiting for something. Lan Wangji followed his gaze: darkness was raising from the bottom of the vortex, and it seemed to cover and engulf the whole world. A little more, and Lan Wangji wasn’t certain he’d be able to see the fingers of his outstretched hand.

A flash suddenly pierced the darkness. Jiang Cheng turned his ring into a whip and was pulling something out of the water like a fisherman. The veins bulged on Jiang Cheng’s arms, he went red with effort; for a moment Lan Wangji felt surprised why Jiang Cheng didn’t try to pour more spiritual power into the whip, but he immediately realised that sending lightning to water would be dangerous.

Lan Wangji didn’t notice the storm’s end: it was too dark. He was holding the shield and didn’t pay attention to anything else, then he suddenly realised it cleared off, the wind died down, and the Yunmeng Jiang adepts, swaying from fatigue, splashed the evil summoning talismans with seawater to smear the lines of the spell. Jiang Cheng approached Lan Wangji.

“Is that it? I think we have a full set: arms and legs attached, only the head is missing. We’re lucky this guy wasn’t quartered.”

Lan Wangji tiredly nodded and swayed. Jiang Cheng hastily grabbed him under the elbow and dragged him onto Sandu unceremoniously.

“Thank you, Hanguang-jun, for helping my people. If you allow, I would like to help you back.”

Jiang Cheng said that evenly, without poison or mockery, and Lan Wangji had no strength left to argue: he was exhausted. Besides, now, after their cooperation, he didn’t find Jiang Cheng’s company so repulsive anymore.

Holding Lan Wangji by the shoulder, Jiang Cheng turned around and signalled for his adepts to leave, but one of the cultivators in purple suddenly cried out, pointing at the sea. Now Lan Wangji also saw something dark and giant rising from the bottom. The Yunmeng Jiang adepts surrounded their sect leader to protect him from possible attacks.

It soon became obvious that their wariness was unnecessary: remains of shipwrecks were rising from the sea bottom one by one. Some adept cursed, and Jiang Cheng glared at him.

“That must be the ships sunk by your friend, Hanguang-jun. Once we come back to the port, we’ll point in their direction. I’m willing to split the reward from the authorities in half to share with you.”

Yesterday Lan Wangji would have proudly refused, but now he could no longer think of Jiang Cheng as an enemy.

***

Tianlang-jun had also learnt of the bride-kidnapping ghost from his nephew. His attempts to have someone else handle the problem were thwarted by Mingyan: according to her, Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen were already busy, Wei Wuxian was helping his wards, and Yushi Huang never interfered in such affairs. Tianlang-jun sighed and tried to wave his eyelashes at her to appear pathetic, but Mingyan was relentless: the lord of Heaven was supposed to be a good example to his subordinates. However, Tianlang-jun was still able to get a scroll describing the issue and a goodbye kiss from the heartless woman.

The first surprise was waiting for Tianlang-jun in the village: the locals said some fighter had already promised to rid them of the disaster and gone to Yujun mountain on his own. Tianlang-jun felt better: if the unknown cultivator had been acting so confidently, he might have been one of the missing heavenly officials. After interrogating the villagers, Tianlang-jun was left completely baffled: they said the fighter had been tall, bulky, gray-skinned, easily angered and quickly forgiving. The unknown warrior had scared the maidens, but the men were speaking of him with admiration.

Well, at least the stranger clearly knew what he was doing: remains of traps and barriers, destroyed with a sword, could be found on the way. Tianlang-jun paused a little to examine the slaughtered binu, then stepped forward and almost got pierced by a saber.

More and more curious. The stranger probably was not a heavenly official, but a creature similar to Song Zichen – a demon? A dead man? In any case, Tianlang-jun was still unable to feel his presence. No matter: Song Zichen handled the duties of a heavenly official as well as his companion, and Tianlang-jun had no intention to chase him away because of a thing so minor as an untimely demise. Perhaps he’d be able to lure the unknown warrior to heavens as well?

“Nice to meet you,” Tianlang-jun smiled broadly. “I’ve been called by the locals to deal with the bride-stealer, but I see you’re ahead of me?”

The unknown warrior grunted and threw a cloth bag to Tianlang-jun’s feet. A chopped-off head with a red point on the forehead rolled out.

“Here’s your criminal. Kidnapped maidens to violate them, then murdered them… scum. And a weakling, too: couldn’t even last two strikes. Still, he got what he deserved: I cut off everything that had to be cut off.”

Tianlang-jun nodded and opted not to ask what remained in the bag: what if the unknown fighter decided to demonstrate the chopped-off parts?

“What about the maidens? Their families will probably want to see them…”

“All dead. The bodies are at the top of the mountain, in this sleazeball’s temple.”

“Is this a heavenly official?” Tianlang-jun gaped. The unknown warrior huffed angrily.

“What heavenly official?.. He’s just a godling who granted virility… and chased anything in a skirt.”

“I see,” Tianlang-jun fell into contemplation. Heavens still desperately needed people, and it would be stupid to miss such an opportunity – such a fighter. Perhaps this fan of brawls would take the most dangerous assignments, and Tianlang-jun would be able to spend more time with Mingyan.

Having made up his mind, Tianlang-jun hesitated no longer.

“Would you like to visit me? In Heaven? I’d like to thank you for helping those people.”

“Heaven? Are you a heavenly official?” The warrior seemed to tense. Tianlang-jun’s smile turned wider.

“The Heavenly Emperor, at your service.”

“I see,” the warrior hummed and sheathed his saber. “I’m Nie Mingjue. A Supreme Demon.”

“How captivating!.. Will you tell me on the way?” 

Tianlang-jun had long understood that the only thing in common between the ‘demons’ of this world and the ‘heavenly demons’ was the name. Nie Mingjue’s story only reassured him.

“…Felt drawn to it, no idea why. I quickly realised I wasn’t the only one: other demons and the dead were going in the same direction. At first there were only weaklings, but the further I advanced, the stronger the enemies became. At last we found our way to the heart of the mountain and fought there until all but one were dead. The winner could get out of the volcano.”

“And that was you?”

“Me,” Nie Mingjue said without any pride or false modesty. Tianlang-jun simply shook his head.

“The mountain that attracts ghosts and demons and forces them to fight each other… sounds dangerous. Perhaps I should deal with it.”

“It’s nothing but ruins now,” Nie Mingjue shrugged. “Sometimes vile things get out of the volcano, at least I get to fight them. Most of the time it’s quiet. I’m slowly cleaning the lands when I have nothing better to do.”

The conversation kept Tianlang-jun so enthralled he didn’t notice their return to heavens. He proudly showed his new acquaintance the sights, introduced him to junior employees, then wondered how he could get rid of Nie Mingjue for a short while to meet Mingyan without company. However, the lady of his heart didn’t wait, ran out to meet him and rushed forward as fast as she could. Tianlang-jun opened his arms, but Mingyan barely noticed him: she threw herself at Nie Mingjue with a loud sob.

“Big brother!”

“Come now, stop crying,” Nie Mingjue grunted, tenderly embracing Mingyan’s waist. “It’s all right. Enough of your tears.”

Tianlang-jun politely stepped aside and did not comment on the fact that the siblings had different surnames. After all, that was their business. As for his business, though…

After Liu Mingyan released her embrace and wiped her tears off, Tianlang-jun smiled as widely as he was able to.

“If I’d known you were Mingyan’s brother, I would have paid more respect to you.”

“Why is that?” Nie Mingjue huffed. Tianlang-jun prepared for the worst.

“Please allow me to introduce myself again. I am Tianlang-jun, the Heavenly Emperor, a god of war… your younger sister’s husband.”

***

Finally.

So many years of searching, interrogations, trailing, arriving too late…

And now they finally met.

Jun Wu removed his mask: why would he need it now? Lan Qiren already knew full well what it was hiding. Knew what the crown prince of Wuyong looked like – now.

Lan Qiren was standing with his back straight, taut as a guqin string. Anger, disgust, scorn and a little bit of sadness mixed strangely in his gaze.

Jun Wu smiled – with White No-Face’s insane smile.

“Long time no see.”

“I would be happy to avoid seeing you ever again,” Lan Qiren snapped. Jun Wu tried not to show that the words had hurt. Years of separation, suppressed anger, resentment against betrayal, dreams of revenge, attempts to come up with a better insult – and Lan Qiren still managed to touch a sore spot with the very first phrase.

“Come now, teacher Lan,” Jun Wu drawled mockingly, “don’t you wish to know how your disciple is faring?”

Lan Qiren’s face contorted minutely, but immediately froze into a dispassionate mask.

“If he couldn’t defeat you, then he didn’t live up to my expectations.”

Jun Wu laughed without a drop of sincerity.

“Did you expect him to defeat me? Did you honestly believe that the brat would be able to compare to me? That you’ve found a replacement for me?”

“I had no intention of looking for a replacement,” Lan Qiren said coldly. “Why would I wish for the company of a creature such as you? My only mistake was not leaving sooner, staying with you for so long.”

Jun Wu bared his teeth, clenched his fist, raised his arm but couldn’t strike. Lan Qiren was standing in front of him, as stubborn, unbent, rigid in his bookish values as ever – and Jun Wu couldn’t hurt him.

Anyone but him.

Instead he lowered his arm, almost tenderly stroked the air next to Lan Qiren's hair, not touching it: his old fear of dirtying, ruining the only dear and pure thing Jun Wu still had left suddenly resurfaced. He only touched the tip of the white ribbon for a moment, drunk on the smell of mist and ink, deeply inhaled and stepped away.

“I’ll pass your words to your brat. I’m certain, before he dies he’ll be pleased to learn his dear ‘shizun’ abandoned him so readily.”

Lan Qiren stayed unmoving, looking straight ahead. Jun Wu winked at him and put on the mask again.

“See you soon, teacher Lan. Now that I’ve found you, I won’t lose you anymore. Not again.”

“Not again,” Lan Qiren echoed, looking in the slits of the eyes: one curved in a smile, the other one with a tear in its corner.

***

Tianlang-jun went outside and winced. The day began with a smell of smoke and sounds of crying, which was surely an ominous sign. Thankfully, he didn’t have to look for the source of the commotion: the siblings’ loud screaming could be heard from afar.

“…How could you?! Burn all my books, all drafts, even those I haven’t shown anyone yet! All my creations…”

“You call that garbage creations?! You dare! I thought you were doing something important in my absence, practicing with your sword, and you’re wasting your time on obscene filth!”

“It’s art!”

“It’s vile! Have you ever seen anyone violated? Forced into bed? You describe such evil with anticipation and delight… no wonder you have no believers! It’s a wonder someone is still willing to speak to you after that!”

“And you!.. You!..”

“I what? Why don’t you do something useful instead of savouring this dirt?”

“I am doing something useful! I’m a literature goddess!”

“So write literature! Not the yellow books! Even the bride-kidnapping ghost would consider them beneath it!”

“You just hate books! And know nothing about love! You only care for fighting! You think you can come once in ten years after a fight, tell me how to live my life, and I will obey you? No way!”

“You should! Here I am, believing your stories that you’re oppressed because you’re a woman… rubbish! You should work hard, and in time people will accept and respect you. Pay more attention to your work, and you’ll see how things change.”

“How would you know? You’ve been adored by everyone around since the day you were born! The first-born, the best sword of your generation, the god of war… No one has ever asked me what I want! Perhaps I like the brush more than the sword!”

Tianlang-jun quietly stepped aside and sat under a tree. He didn’t feel like intervening in a family quarrel, even if he was a part of the family and not a stranger.

Good thing Zhuzhi-lang was so calm and obedient. At least Tianlang-jun’s nephew never gave him a headache first thing in the morning.

***

Ling Wen chased everyone out of the room, locked the door and sat at the desk, quietly staring at a blank sheet of paper.

She had gradually gotten used to the new world, and the life here no longer seemed strange and terrifying. Still, Ling Wen had a habit of preparing several escape routes in advance, just in case. That had been easier to do in Heaven: every – almost every – heavenly official had had dirty secrets and dark past, besides, Ling Wen had worked very hard to make herself indispensable. Cangqiong… there was no point in worrying about indispensability at Cangqiong: no one could banish a peak lord, no matter what. Shen Qingqiu had mentioned that the previous Anding peak lord hadn’t been punished even for betraying the sect and working for demons. Ling Wen hadn’t believed him and had personally spent several nights at the library reading fragile dusty scrolls of the sect history until she’d made sure Shen Qingqiu hadn’t been lying: no peak lord in a thousand years had lost their position.

That… opened certain possibilities. If Ling Wen didn’t have to worry about losing her power, she could finally give some of her work to someone else. Pick a smart assistant – previously she’d been afraid of giving other female heavenly officials a chance to show their merit. Ling Wen knew full well that women could be more talented and clever than men, and she hadn't needed rivals in her own palace. But an assistant… or better yet, three of them. Teach them, explain some minor subtle details, so that work could run smoothly even in Ling Wen’s absence – and she could allow herself to relax for the first time in centuries.

Only one thought prevented Ling Wen from implementing her ambitious plans: the thought that the real Anding peak lord would return, and Ling Wen would lose everything again because of a stupid man. That’s why Ling Wen spared no effort on studying old texts, asked Shen Qingqiu and others, tried to look for patterns.

She hadn’t found much. The world where Cangqiong sect existed had once been almost destroyed – allegedly someone had wanted to merge the human and the demonic realms. According to Shen Qingqiu, Maigu Ridge had barely been affected, but Ling Wen had visited the mountain herself and was certain that the fabric of reality there was still damaged. The mountain where two worlds had almost split. Maigu Ridge. Tonglu Mountain. Could they be connected in some way? Ling Wen didn’t know the answer; she only had her vague speculation to fall back on.

There was another legend that had made Ling Wen shudder: of an evil sealed under Bailu Mountain. The story of a cultivator who’d wished to destroy the world painfully resembled the story of White No-Face – Jun Wu. But when asked, Shen Qingqiu had merely shrugged and said the demon sealed under the mountain had escaped a long time ago and had been slandered in any case. Ling Wen hadn’t believed him and had gone on a journey: to see the “sealed evil” with her own two eyes, to make sure it wasn’t wearing white clothes and a mask.

Sealed under the mountain was an ordinary mortal, neither a heavenly official nor a demon. Ling Wen hadn’t examined him closely: she had felt sick seeing the rotting flesh, hearing the low pained moans, looking at the “Chief Cultivator's" bleak and resigned expresion. Ling Wen didn’t know what that person had done and whether he’d deserved this end, nor did she wish to find out. She had only needed the confirmation that the Chief Cultivator had had nothing to do with the merge of two worlds.

But who had?

Out of all the people around her only Shen Qingqiu still remembered the past; the others had completely forgotten Shang Qinghua’s and “Luo Binghe's" existence. Even Liu Qingge, who, according to Shen Qingqiu, had had a sister, noticed nothing unusual and genuinely believed Shi Qingxuan to be his blood brother. Alas, Ling Wen had been unable to find out what Shi Qingxuan himself thought of that: just like in the past life, the younger Shi was always surrounded by a crowd of admirers, and it was impossible to speak to him without witnesses. And there was no spiritual communication network at Cangqiong sect – not yet. Ling Wen planned to rectify it soon.

Why was Shen Qingqiu the only one who hadn’t lost his memory? Ling Wen didn’t know that either. Shen Qingqiu was a mystery, he didn’t like speaking of his past and successfully evaded interrogations and traps. He didn’t even talk much about his so-called husband; or rather, he liked calling ‘Luo Binghe’ powerful, smart and talented, but that was… impersonal. As if Shen Qingqiu was describing a character from a play he'd liked, not his lover. Ling Wen didn’t know much about matters of the heart, but she remembered well how the crown prince of Xianle had spoken of the Blood Rain. Ling Wen had seen nothing similar in Shen Qingqiu’s eyes.

Moreover, Shen Qingqiu almost scared her lately. Not intentionally, no – but sometimes Shen Qingqiu took time to understand who or what they were talking about when Ling Wen tried to speak of the history of their worlds. He seemed to slowly forget the past himself – which meant Ling Wen’s memory was also at risk. A few days ago Ling Wen had taken time to write down the most important events of her life only to find clean sheets of paper on her desk the next morning.

If in time both she and Shen Qingqiu were destined to succumb to the illusion and lose the rest of their memories… well, Ling Wen would gladly get rid of some of them. Her life in prison, broken fingers, Jing Wen’s harrassment, Bai Jin’s sad fate. But there were also good things in her life, things she didn’t want to lose: Bai Jin’s puppy eyes, her friendship with old Pei and older Shi, their rare joint adventures in the mortal world. Not a lot, come to think of it.

After all, even if Ling Wen lost her memory – what of it? Everyone believed the Anding peak lord position to be hers by right. Even if Shang Qinghua came and tried to reclaim what he’d lost, he would be the one considered a pathetic impostor. Here Ling Wen could gossip with Qi Qingqi, unafraid of seeming stupid and unworthy. Could enjoy the recognition of her merits, Yue Qingyuan’s soft respectful attitude, admiration of her disciples. Even if Ling Wen hadn’t earned that – so what? She’d rightfully earned her position in Heaven, and that hadn’t brought her much happiness.

***

“Wei Wuxian,” Nie Mingjue said without a trace of a smile, holding the handle of his saber.

“Chifeng-zun,” Wei Wuxian was twirling his flute in his hand. Tianlang-jun admired the view for a moment, but Zhuzhi-lang quietly pushed him in the back. Sighing heavily, Tianlang-jun went to pull his subjects apart until they started a fight.

“Do you know each other?”

“Know each other?.. You could say that,” Nie Mingjue curled his lips. Wei Wuxian shrugged.

“Me and Chifeng-zun ascended at about the same time… we’d met in Heaven.”

“And you,” Nie Mingjue turned to Tianlang-jun, “don’t even know whom you’ve brought here?”

“Enlighten me,” Tianlang-jun suggested placidly. He’d already understood his brother-in-law didn’t like to be opposed.

Nie Mingjue huffed.

“Wei Wuxian used to be a talented god… everyone believed he had a grand future ahead of him. But then he went astray. Protected those dogs. And got exiled from Heaven.”

“Don’t listen to my brother, he’s telling it wrong,” Mingyan interrupted. “Wei Wuxian is a kind and self-sacrificial person, an ally of justice! He was misunderstood and slandered!”

Wei Wuxian choked.

“My lady, I appreciate that, but… how do I put it… you’re not exactly right.”

Tianlang-jun raised his palm.

“Stop it! I’m going to speak to each of you individually. I’ll listen to your versions. Then I’ll decide who’s right. But let me tell you now, I have no intention of exiling Wei Wuxian because of past events. We have a shortage of people as it is.”

A shichen later Tianlang-jun was clutching his temples and deeply regretting his ill-considered choice. Turned out, Nie Mingjue hadn’t been close to Wei Wuxian and only knew rumours about him. Mingyan had only ascended after Wei Wuxian’s exile, but she’d collected a lot of gossip about him – Tianlang-jun was willing to bet that she’d taken so many creative liberties her story of Wushangxie-zun’s life had nothing in common with the truth. Wei Wuxian himself only spoke of his past tersely and reluctantly. Wen siblings were the most useful – they gave Tianlang-jun a consistent retelling of events.

“Wei Ying found a way to cure the human-face disease,” Wen Qing said drily, clenching her fists on her knees. “Common folk loved him, while heavenly officials felt jealous of his power and fame. Later someone – don’t know who – started a rumour: allegedly, Wei Ying could not only chase the disease away, but also summon it. If you insulted him, he’d kill all your family. And he had been the one to send the human-face disease to Yunmeng in the first place, because he’d been mistreated there.”

“That’s not true,” Wen Qionglin added quietly. “Young master loved his family dearly.”

“Of course it’s not,” Wen Qing huffed. “A bit later, when I ascended, everyone was against me: a goddess of healing, and a Wen to boot… that was right after the war, everyone hated us. Especially Chifeng-zun, but others too. Wei Ying openly stood up for me, which caused a lot of people to stop talking to him. I gradually acquired more believers, people realised that I could really cure their ailments. For a while it seemed to go well. And then…”

“Then someone cursed sister’s temple,” Wen Qionglin said. “And they started accusing young master Wei: they claimed he’d taken revenge against the people who’d spoken badly of my sister.”

“Later we found out it was one of the minor heavenly officials, who'd wanted to kiss up to his patron,” Wen Qing blinked a few times, then continued. “A lot of believers left me after that. I barely managed to stay in Heaven: my family was praying to me. Once…” Wen Qing heaved a broken sigh. “Once I left to fulfil some prayers, and when I returned, I found out a monster had attacked my family. Wei Ying had defeated it, but…”

“But I tried to lead the monster away from the village to protect the others. And it killed me,” Wen Qionglin said casually.

“I begged Wei Ying to do something. He found a way to bring A-Ning back to life. After that people started saying he was breaking the natural order of things, he wanted to defeat death itself, wanted to become a new heavenly emperor… That’s when he got exiled. And there was no reason for me to stay either.”

Tianlang-jun remained silent and depressed. He wasn’t a naïve youth, but the stories of human duplicity and malice never failed to strike a chord. His heart clenched in his chest: Wen Qing’s story did touch a raw nerve.

“And still you chose to return? After all this?”

“Someone has to heal people,” Wen Qing said simply. Tianlang-jun shook his head.

“I promise, you’re safe now. I’ll make sure of it personally… and I’ll speak to my brother-in-law.”

After all, even if Tianlang-jun couldn’t broker peace between Nie Mingjue and Wei Wuxian, he could always keep them apart. And find them assignments on different sides of the continent.

Nie Mingjue listened to Tianlang-jun wordlessly. Judging by his stubborn expression, Nie Mingjue had already made up his mind and had no intention of changing it. Mingyan, though… something Tianlang-jun could not quite name was brewing behind her eyes.

“That’s not fair. What happened to them wasn’t fair. We have to fix it!”

“They got what they deserved if you ask me,” Nie Mingjue said with contempt. Mingyan jumped on her feet.

“You’re such a hypocrite! You’ve taught me to judge everyone justly and without bias, to never blindly believe in gossip, and now?.. You can’t even set a good example for me!”

“Shut your mouth!” Nie Mingjue growled. That only made Mingyan angrier.

“Say that to your believers! I’m not your property! I’m a goddess of literature! You wanted me to use my abilities properly? Well, that’s what I’m going to do!”

Mingyan turned around and ran off, forgetting her veil on a bench. Tianlang-jun opted to wait for his spouse to cool down and then go after her. 

“I only want what’s best for her,” Nie Mingjue grumbled, clutching the handle of his sabre. Tianlang-jun suddenly realised that sometimes Nie Mingjue didn’t grasp his weapon in anger, but in uncertainty: Baxia was like a silent support for him.

“I don’t doubt it,” Tianlang-jun hesitated, then continued. “But Mingyan is an adult; you can’t spend all your life making decisions for her. Even if she’s wrong, let her make her own mistakes. She’s not like you, but that doesn’t make her worse than you.”

***

Ruling this world was no more or less complicated than ruling Heavens. White No-Face kept reviewing pleas, holding court, promoting some people and kicking out others, sustaining petty squabbles between court officials and ministers – everything to assert his power. Although at first it was funny to sit on the throne without hiding his true self: he’d chased away all advisors, and the others were shaking in fear, not knowing whether their new lord would decide to kill someone just for fun. But lately even that felt boring.

The news of the Ghost Town now being a part of his territory almost made White No-Face happy. He’d always wanted to duel Blood Rain: he’d seemed stronger than his water friend. An arrogant, haughty tall poppy – once White No-Face had loved breaking people like him, gradually destroying their pride and their will to live. And White No-Face had no doubt he’d be able to break Blood Rain: all Tonglu creatures succumbed to his power to some extent. A demon born from the Kiln would be no exception; White No-Face had temporarily let him have his fun, waiting until Blood Rain would forget his place and give him a reason to kill him.

There was no point in waiting any further. White No-Face decided to start from taking a stroll in Ghost City to see what was interesting there and to check the extent of Blood Rain’s power: would he be able to notice an intruder in his domain? Of course, White No-Face had no intention of making the task easier and replaced one mask with another. Now a bulky middle-aged merchant was looking at him from the mirror – just another mortal willing to try his hand at the gambling house.

The house that, as White No-Face soon learnt, existed no longer. Just like Blood Rain – the ghosts had completely forgotten their ruler. The streets of the Ghost City were crowded with people, but White No-Face saw nothing interesting there.

“Hey, handsome! Would you like to have some fun? I won’t charge much!”

A not-too-young dead woman had the audacity to grab White No-Face’s hand and try to pull him into a dark alley. Perhaps a few sturdy men with weapons were waiting there, or perhaps the slattern fully intended to work for the money – it didn’t matter. White No-Face needed neither a fight with lowly ghosts nor bedroom activities; he wanted to say it openly, but took a closer look at the whore and paused. He’d met her somewhere… although the slattern obviously didn’t recognise him under the illusion. Well… perhaps it would be worth it to accept her offer? Even a ghost could be tortured to absorb the energy of its pain and despair. Although this whore’s ghost was too weak to be worth the time.

The slattern noticed her 'client’s' hesitation and started a ruckus. She alternated between promising bliss the likes of which he’d never experienced and swearing at the 'indecisive moron'. A crowd of bystanders gathered around; some of them laughing at the hapless fool, others – at her 'victim'. A bit more – and White No-Face would kill them all for a few moments of peace.

Thankfully, there was someone who shared his annoyance.

“Shut up already!” a bag of money fell from the balcony of a nearby building. “I’ll give you twice this amount if you finally shut your mouth. You may come into my room and sit here as long as you stay silent.”

A youth in qin-coloured clothes was looking at the crowd from above, angrily curling his thin lips. Half-dressed dead women clinging to him giggled and chirped, praising ‘lord cultivator’s’ generosity and kindness. The slattern that White No-Face had vaguely recognised immediately grabbed the bag and ran into the brothel, bowing and mumbling her thanks.

“And what are you all looking at? Waiting for me to throw a talisman at you?”

The youth frowned angrily, which made his pretty face incredibly unpleasant. White No-Face just hummed: the youth had unknowingly saved the whole crowd from the second death, while also dispelling all of White No-Face’s doubts. Blood Rain hadn’t tolerated cultivators in his city and wouldn’t have allowed one of them to threaten the locals. Whoever was now called the city lord by the town folk, they clearly had no power over it.

After coming back to the palace, White No-Face fell deep into thought. Apparently, he had no worthy opponents left in this world. Of course, he could still build a torture palace, introduce a new tax, execute a few traitors, but that was petty. He wanted some fun. He wanted something new.

“Share your wisdom with me, teacher Lan,” White No-Face said sweetly. Lan Qiren only snorted, pursing his lips. The people around them shuddered, but immediately calmed down: everyone knew the ‘emperor’s advisor’ had far more privileges than others, even if Lan Qiren was still a prisoner in the palace.

“Do something useful. Your subjects are suffering from demonic attacks, draughts, diseases, famine. You’re their ruler, so make their lives easier.”

The sycophants of the court started whispering. White No-Face felt his lips stretching in a smile.

“Teacher Lan’s wisdom is as incredible as ever. You’re absolutely right.”

Lan Qiren’s expression didn’t change. People around them went quiet in disbelief.

White No-Face stood up from his throne.

“Everyone, listen to me! Since my people are suffering, I cannot leave it unattended.”

Silence fell upon the hall. People seemed to have stopped breathing, afraid of missing a word.

White No-Face smiled – good thing the mask covered his smile.

“Let them build temples. Build temples and pray. I shall answer their prayers.”

After all, White No-Face already ruled mortals and demons. Why shouldn’t he claim the heaven as well?

***

Lan Wangji parted with Jiang Cheng at the border of Yunmeng Jiang: they were no longer enemies, but not yet friends. Having made sure that Lan Wangji had fully recovered and wouldn’t fall from exhaustion, Jiang Cheng politely excused himself and invited Lan Wangji to visit Yunmeng some other time. Lan Wangji thought the invitation was fairly sincere and wondered whether to accept it. However, Jiang Cheng left without receiving an answer.

Lan Wangji had to bury the dead man in Gusu: Jiang Cheng vehemently refused to ‘allow the creature into Yunmeng’. Lan Wangji didn’t argue: the revenant clearly could control water, which meant he’d get weaker in the mountains. Lan Wangji hoped that a worthy burial would end the trouble, but he had to take measures in case the dead man wouldn’t want to simply rest in peace.

Brother met Lan Wangji near the gate: either he’d heard the news from adepts or somehow felt Lan Wangji had returned home. After briefly explaining the situation, Lan Wangji asked for advice. Brother smiled.

“You can ask uncle. He’s playing cards now… your dead man will have to wait until the evening.”

‘Cards?’ Lan Wangji thought with surprise. ‘Does uncle like gambling?’

The next moment he found the thought absurd. Uncle had always been an incorrigible gambler, there was nothing strange about him spending time at the card table with his friends. Lan Wangji must have been more tired than he’d thought if he was imagining things.

Uncle found some free time the next day. Turned out, he knew a suitable cave with good fengshui, where the spirit would be able to find his final resting place. Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji performed all the necessary rites together and sealed the cave with talismans. Lan Xichen left after that: he needed to order the adepts to block the entrance with stones. Even if the dead man rose again, it wouldn’t be easy for him.

Alone, Lan Wangji took out his guqin.

‘Are you satisfied?’

‘I am. Didn’t expect you to keep your promise. Well, mortal, claim your reward. Should I tell you what you’ve forgotten?”

Lan Wangji frowned perplexedly. He could’ve sworn he remembered everything perfectly.

‘What are you trying to say?’

The strings began to sing, as if the dead man was laughing.

‘I see… you didn’t need much time, did you? But that’s none of my business. What about the reward?’

‘Does an honourable man need a reward to fulfil his duty?’

Lan Wangji would rather avoid taking anything from the dead: his gifts might be dangerous or even cursed. The strings sang again.

‘Well, I offered, you refused.’

The cave seemed to brighten, and Lan Wangji knew the spirit had left to reincarnate. Before that Lan Wangji hadn’t realised how hard it had been to stay in his presence, how heavy his energy had been. What kind of a creature had Lan Wangji met? A demon? A Diyu attendant? And if so, who had been able to kill him and how?

“Wangji?”

Brother was standing next to the cave entrance, looking at Lan Wangji with clear worry. Lan Wangji bowed his head and silently followed him; as soon as they left, Gusu Lan adepts dexterously began blocking the passage with stones.

“Will you stay in the Cloud Recesses for a few days?” brother asked softly. Lan Wangji nodded without hesitation: he needed to meditate, clear his mind, restore his powers. Brother sighed in relief. “Very well. What are you planning to do next? Or have you not thought of it yet?”

“I’ll go travel,” Lan Wangji said evenly. “Help ordinary people.”

And maybe one day the road would once again lead him to Yunmeng.

***

The Autumn Festival this year was successful: Uncle Four’s wine flowed like water, Yushi Huang had sent some gifts, so the food was abundant, and the people for once chose to put their differences aside and have some fun. Wei Wuxian was holding A-Yuan in his lap and laughing at something, while Wen Qionglin was staring at him adoringly. A-Qing and Song Zichen took turns feeding Xiao Xingchen from their chopsticks; Xiao Xingchen was blushing but eating – he seemed to have had a drink of courage and forgotten of any propriety. Nie Mingjue was excitedly discussing a recent hunt with Quan Yizhen. Mingyan was waving her hands, happily explaining something to her three assistants. 

Tianlang-jun stood up, waited for everyone to get quiet and raised his cup.

“My friends! This is the first speech tonight, and I am glad I can share this evening with you. Which is only possible thanks to the lady of my heart, who worked tirelessly, gathered information to help me find you and invite you all back to Heaven. Let me raise this cup for my empress, Liu Mingyan!”

The people sitting at the table smiled and drank. Nie Mingjue frowned, inhaled, then rose to his feet.

“I was wrong.”

Everyone went quiet. Nie Mingjue clutched the handle of his sabre and continued.

“I’ve always considered writing fiction a waste of time. I never thought it could be useful. And I tried to stop Mingyan from doing that… I was wrong.”

Nie Mingjue went quiet and sat down. An awkward silence was interrupted by Mingyan, who sobbed and threw herself at her brother. The others laughed, congratulated the siblings, the cups clinked again, and Tianlang-jun sighed in relief.

Nie Mingjue wasn’t the sort of person who could easily admit their mistakes. But even he couldn’t deny that Mingyan had done magnificently once she’d used her head to tackle the problem. Even if her songs hadn’t been successful – Tianlang-jun still believed it to be the fault of the wrong love interest, – Mingyan was still the best in gathering and spreading rumours. Soon mortals had started writing plays and singing songs of an unjustly slandered hero and his loyal companion, of an unrivaled healer, a noble warrior who protected common folk from disaster even after his death… Seeing her hard labour pay off, Mingyan had bloomed. She no longer cared for the insults and the weird offerings, the amount of which was steadily decreasing. Perhaps Nie Mingjue had been right: everything had gone better once Mingyan had started paying more attention to her work. Or perhaps, people were just afraid to speak ill of the Heavenly Emperor’s spouse.

While Tianlang-jun had been distracted, A-Yuan had crawled into Zhuzhi-lang’s lap and was now concentrated on a staring contest with a snake. Tianlang-jun lovingly looked at his baffled nephew, then at his wife and brother-in-law, and felt his heart skip a bit, unable to bear the full power of his love. To his family, to his friends, to the whole world.

***

Shen Qingqiu was sitting at his desk, clutching a piece of paper in his pale fingers. The sound of footsteps startled him, and he tried to hide the paper behind his back, then saw Liu Qingge and relaxed, even beamed at him with his usual shiny smile.

Liu Qingge smiled back: it was harder and harder to keep a straight face next to Shen Qingqiu. Besides, he’d always liked seeing Shen Qingqiu trust him and feel safe next to him. Seeing his smile, Shen Qingqiu leaned in for a kiss.

Their welcoming embrace took longer than expected. Abandoning the idea to take Shen Qingqiu by the hand and lead him to the new trophey, Liu Qingge sat down next to him. Shen Qingqiu immediately pressed his back to Liu Qingge’s chest, shamelessly leaning on him.

“What are you reading?” Liu Qingge asked, trying to speak as indifferently as possible. If Shen Qingqiu wanted, he’d share, if not, there was no need to pressure him.

Instead of a reply Shen Qingqiu silently unfolded the paper he was still holding in his fist. On closer inspection, the paper turned out to be a letter.

‘Shizun,

Forgive me for not writing with my own hands, but I assure you, this message is from me. I’m in danger and cannot tell you everything in detail, just know: I am alive and I have not given up. There is a way to fix everything: two people from the two worlds should conduct a simple ritual. I will find a description soon and send it to you with another letter. For now I know this: the ritual demands a large amount of spiritual energy. Besides, the cultivators who perform it have to deeply and sincerely wish to return everything back to normal.

I know you remember me. And I know now that you will not abandon me, that you will accept me even the way I am now. Please, trust me, and we can be together again.

Your loving husband,

Binghe’

“Are you married?” Liu Qingge asked, not knowing what to feel. Shen Qingqiu shook his head.

“Never have been. And it’s the first time I hear of this ‘Binghe’… perhaps he’s insane? I would suspect I got the letter by mistake, but it’s addressed to me. Weird, right?”

Liu Qingge just nodded:

“Do you want me to find this… ‘Binghe’?”

“Why? It might be a mistake after all. Or someone’s stupid joke. Don’t waste your time,” Shen Qingqiu relaxed in Liu Qingge’s embrace, looking at him from under his eyelashes. Liu Qingge didn’t argue, just kissed his temple. Shen Qingqiu’s smile suddenly turned bitter.

“It’s a good thing you’re not prone to jealousy.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… someone else might have suspected something and asked whether I really have nothing to do with this ‘Binghe’. Demanded that I prove my fidelity…”

“Nonsense!” Liu Qingge said sharply. “Why would I insult you with such suspicions?”

Shen Qingqiu looked at him sadly and tenderly.

“I’m so lucky to have you, you know.”

“Something happened,” Liu Qingge said without a doubt. “Can I help?”

Shen Qingqiu just shook his head.

“No need… I just felt melancholic all of a sudden. It’ll pass on its own.” 

Someone stomped outside. Liu Qingge didn’t even move: no one but his younger brothers would dare to break into the bamboo hut without a warning, and his brothers wouldn’t be surprised by a simple embrace.

“Ge!”

“I lost my fan!”

“My favourite!”

“I have no idea where it could be!”

Liu Qingge just rolled his eyes. Shen Qingqiu snorted quietly, looking at his expression.

“All right, calm down, we’ll look for it. You can borrow something from my collection for now.”

Liu Qingge hid a smile in Shen Qingqiu’s hair. In his opinion, Shen Qingqiu spoilt the two klutzes… although Liu Qingge himself fared little better.

“Are you busy?”

“Are we distracting you?”

“Or is there something important?”

Having obtained a silent permission from Shen Qingqiu, Liu Qingge threw the letter from ‘Binghe’ behind his back: his younger brothers sometimes knew the most unexpected things and closely followed gossip. Besides, they wouldn’t reveal their brother’s secrets.

“Any idea what it’s about?”

“Oh, ge… I don’t even know,” Huaisang said perplexedly, scratching the back of his head with his fan.

“I don’t know anything,” Qingxian continued.

“Anything at all!” they finished in unison.