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Confused, He Xuan narrows his eyes.

“A boat?” he asks, gaze drifting towards the horizon; the line he sees between a pitch-black mirror and endless, blueish sky. He knows he can’t see past his domain from the island in its heart.

It’s not unusual for fishermen to not have gotten accustomed to the new ruler off their coasts. Word will need to spread of his arrival, so that they’ll avoid the place.

The creature in front of him trills a series of click-sounds, slapping its fins down into the shallow water He Xuan is standing on.

No fishers, it had said, only one person on the boat. A mortal.

“If it’s a mortal, why do you bother telling me?” He Xuan asks, irritated. “Go back immediately. I do not care about mortals.”

Was here before, the creature clicks. Expectantly, it ogles him from where it’s propped up on the slick of sand and algae. Its chest swells with pride and its smile widens when it sees him pause, like it’s accomplished a goal.

He Xuan hurls it off to the side in a flash of anger, pursing his lips to whistle.

The noise echoes and resounds, loud and powerful. Soon enough, the waters rumble with something large beneath their surface.

A gigantic skull bends the mirror, then makes it explode into a million shards and droplets, before the shape of a long, bone-white dragon breaks through and slithers his direction at breath-taking speed. Its eyes glare like ghost fires, fixed on him as it spirals into a halt, bowing its head towards his feet.

With a small push, he lands at the crown of its head to order, “Ahead.”

There is only one mortal who’s been here before. He doesn’t know what possesses him, but he feels like his own waters will swallow him if he’s not there to watch them die.

The boat’s body is fully submerged by the time he spots it in the distance, its mast the only thing to remain above the mouth of the waves. Clinging to the mast is a figure, their hair a pitchy mess, clothes stitched from scraps. By the time He Xuan is close enough to dismount the dragon, the water has already dragged them down.

He doesn’t think before he jumps in head-first.

Being a ghost, he doesn’t need air, and being the governor of the sea around, it doesn’t dare tug at him.

The man from the ship lacks these advantages and sinks faster than a stone, flailing about like a mad child with his eyes squeezed shut. The greenish sheen over his figure intensifying rapidly, he descends away, his efforts going unnoticed by the hungry sea around. After a few seconds, it’s like he starts to realise it is no use, cheeks puffing and his limbs slowing.

Only when He Xuan grabs him by the collar do his eyes fly open. That’s when he halts all his attempts to preserve his life and freezes.

Memories of countless encounters rest in those irises, too bright to process among the crippling dark of water that wants to eat them up. He Xuan’s reaction of looking elsewhere is quick, but not instantaneous, and the damage is done.

To make up for it, he abruptly yanks the man back up, sending him to fly high out of the water and into the skies. He believes to hear the scream when he breaks the surface as well, pointing in the person’s vague direction to signal the bone dragon to fetch them.

He watches from below as the bone dragon crackles through the sky, catches the bundle at its highest point and then spins back down to its master.

When He Xuan sees clearly, he wants to puke.

Atop one of the bone dragon’s many large vertebrae, there’s a lump of rags and hair. The puddle around the lump is brown with dirt that has been drawn out by the water, particles swimming among crystal darkness.

It’s a filthy person in their filthy mud.

Shi  Qingxuan is unconscious, he assesses when he doesn’t move. He’s covered in dirt and messiness, missing two out of four limbs and bearing a face that can hardly be attributed to a former heavenly official.

Angered by the view, He Xuan sweeps a curtain of dripping wet hair out of his face as the bone dragon soars along the waves.

This inconvenience disrupts his plans. Ghost City’sCity Lord will need to wait another day or two for his services, and Ghost City’s City Lord heavily dislikes waiting.

The bone dragon drops them at the island’s shore.

He Xuan jumps off and takes Shi Qingxuan by his collar to pull him along, letting his body slump heavily onto the beach. He has to control himself to not slap him back into consciousness when he still doesn’t wake up.

Shi Qingxuan’s single foot leaves a trail as he tugs him through the sand, and he feels every earth mound it gets stuck on when they cross the tall grass guarding his place.

He’s dragged him into the very centre of the fortress in the middle of the island, into a lonely throne room that is forged from ink-black stone, when Shi Qingxuan’s bleary eyes finally greet him.

Spread over the stone floor, foot and hand shackled together, drenched and dripping, he blinks, once, twice. His drowsiness quickly switches into alarm, and with a jolt, he sits up straight.

The corner of his lip twitches as he eyes his company.

“Is this your idea of fun?” He Xuan greets, inadvertently leaning forward as he speaks. His brows are a deep arch, mouth forcefully bent down. “Was lolling about under my nose not enough?”

From across the room, Shi Qingxuan gawks at him.

His voice ebbs off, an unknown silence befalling them. He Xuan has hardly ever been subjected to silence when Shi Qingxuan is around, so he doesn’t know what to do with it.

“Huh,” the other finally drops, puzzled.

It’s enough to make He Xuan want to drown him in his own disgusting puddle.

Suddenly, Shi Qingxuan is laughing, bright as the sunlight that falls from the high windows, yet leaves them both in shadow. His laughter is victorious, joyful, relieved, all the things he should not be feeling at all. It irritates He Xuan more.

“I knew you wouldn’t let me drown, hahaha! Ah, those waters of yours are truly merciless. I didn’t remember them to sink a ship so quickly …”

He can’t help himself.

“Last time you trespassed, you were on a heavenly vessel,” he snarls, “Do you think a mere fishing boat can compare?”

Shi Qingxuan’s eyes go empty, then he comes to. “Oh, right.”

On top of the unsettling atmosphere, He Xuan is less acquainted with this male form. The lack of familiarity doesn’t help his desire to snap the former Wind Master’s neck.

“Why have you come?” he inquires.

This is the second time that Shi Qingxuan has sought him out. The first time, it seems his confidence wasn’t enough to let him cross into his territory, but now …

Shi Qingxuan is silent for a while, not daring to speak. He looks at his shackles, and his hand that the dirt holds so dear it doesn’t want to be washed off.

It’s a pitiful picture, but even as a mortal beggar with little more than three coins a day to live for, he somehow hasn’t lost his aura of carefreeness. He ignores the question.

“Are the shackles really necessary? I mean, it’s not like I could do anything to you …”

He Xuan’s patience has run out over the years.

“Enough!” he shouts, silencing Shi Qingxuan, “Why would you drown yourself in my waters, of all the places available? Can’t you go somewhere else to die? After getting on my nerves for years and years, do you still need to make it worse?”

For more years than he can count, he’s been by the Wind Master’s side, analysed the patterns of his behaviour and mapped out every single possible detail of his personality. Yet, it is beyond him why Shi Qingxuan would ever want to come face to face with him again.

He’s clearly come here on purpose. There is no way he would have chosen the Black Sea as the site for suicide if he isn’t harbouring hidden intentions.

Taken aback, Shi Qingxuan looks at him. He Xuan almost lashes out once more just because of that look.

“I didn’t want to kill myself,” he then says, with a leisureliness that befits a god. “I’m sorry I dirtied your water. I won’t do it again, I promise.”

He waves it off with his one shackled hand.

He Xuan glares at that hand from squinted eyes.

Anger boils hot in his stomach, but he knows he can’t act on it. Another surge of hatred crashes over him at the thought.

He wishes he would have impaled Shi Qingxuan on a blunt stick as soon as he had the chance.

Not having lost that awful, merciless curiosity, Shi Qingxuan has long proceeded to look around, seeming intrigued by the simplistic carvings on a jet-black column nearby.

“Have you changed your style?” he asks, “This room is so much prettier than the ones from before. A very well-crafted place, suited for a Supreme Ghost King like yourself. From where do you get architects to build such a thing …?”

He Xuan is speechless at so much audacity. Fortunately, Shi Qingxuan keeps talking.

“I know you’ll probably throw me into the prison, but before you do that, could I say hi to your bone fish maybe? Ah, while you saved me, I was all unconscious, so I didn’t get to see them … I’m sure I can pet them when you keep them under control!”

Ah.

He’s been thinking that the fallen Wind Master acts suspicious, but Shi Qingxuan is a good actor. The momentary, miniscule rattle of metal chain is the only thing that makes He Xuan notice his hand is shivering.

Shi Qingxuan must have followed his line of sight, because his face drops.

“Uh,” he makes, “Aha, it’s alright … I’m sorry, it must be the cold, hahaha …”

He’s sputtering utter nonsense. It’s so much nonsense that it fuels the flames, and He Xuan stiffly rises from his seat.

“Get up,” he demands, voice raw with gravel.

Shi Qingxuan stares at him like a frightened deer, not moving.

He seems to shrink, confidence an extinguished candle. The shackles rattle when he tries to pull his remaining limbs close.

“So— So … All those years, it was really only for the sake of revenge?”

More out of rage and disbelief than anything else, He Xuan barks a laugh. “What did you think?”

Shi Qingxuan nods hastily, as if he’d been given a tough new piece of information. He Xuan feels himself shy away from the determination he finds when Shi Qingxuan looks up again.

“Well, I don’t buy it.”

His fingers flex around the throne’s protruding armrest.

“I’m scared of you, yes,” Shi Qingxuan goes on, chin held amazingly high, “So what? I can still talk to you. We were friends once, remember? Just because you never spared me more than cold looks doesn’t mean I’m stupid. I know you, too, just like you know me. Don’t pretend I’m just another idiot.”

It’s the final straw, and He Xuan rids himself of the armrest to cross the stairs between them.

“You will have plenty of time to overthink your words when you watch the snowflakes from your cell,” he rasps.

Shi Qingxuan’s face slips, but it’s back within a moment’s notice. He immediately starts complaining. “I understood it! I got it, I got it – I never saw you for yourself. I get it, I really do! I’ve had time to think, now!”

He Xuan grabs for the chain connecting the shackles and yanks, forcing Shi Qingxuan to hop up onto his one leg.

“He Xuan!”

His name makes him pause long enough for Shi Qingxuan to wonder, “Oh, that’s weird.”

Then he drags them out.

“I’m sorry, you hear? I’m sorry!”

The hallways lie silent and looming, dark as the night and empty aside from a few courageous spirits that flit through the corners. Each of them detonates into a splatter of blood and spiritual energy as soon as they cross He Xuan’s sight.

Shi Qingxuan doesn’t comment on their insides painting the paths they wander, but his gaze lingers.

It’s not long before his mouth opens again.

“He Xuan. Black Water. Black Water Sinking Ships. Have you even listened? I said I’m sorry. I really am. What my brother has done is terrible too. I know that he committed the wrong first. He’s more wrong than you. He’s more wrong than you, I said! It’s all his own fault, I know!”

He Xuan has somewhat slowed over the course of the speech, eyes drifting towards Shi Qingxuan. It’s arduous to keep it ahead. Shi Qingxuan, of course, barges through the slit in the door.

“I’m sorry that you lost your family. I’m so sorry – But my brother, you will understand, he was family too, for me. Up in the heavens, when has anyone truly stood up for me? Didn’t they all drop me as soon as I didn’t benefit them anymore? My brother was the only one who truly cared for me!”

He makes a pause, mouth agape, and He Xuan knows what’s coming.

Taking a breath to steady his voice, Shi Qingxuan presses, “But my brother didn’t accompany me to my silly missions, he didn’t let me play my pranks, he isn’t the one who was always by my side. That was you.”

He Xuan stops, Shi Qingxuan stumbling to a halt beside him. Their eyes meet, and for a split second, it feels like time passes slower.

Abruptly, he shoves Shi Qingxuan to the side, past the open door of a space carved from the stone and closed off by metal bars. The door slams shut, locking him inside.

At the sight of Shi Qingxuan sprawled on the floor, staring at the prison door as if he can’t believe it, He Xuan shakes his head.

“You’re too naive,” he says.

It’s a cold statement, judgement of the situation, no insult.

Shi Qingxuan understands it as such, and doesn’t try to stop him when he leaves.

It’s not long before he returns.

Two days later, to be exact. After he’s spent some time patrolling his waters and reinforcing barriers.

Shi Qingxuan is curled at the back of the cell, in a corner. He’s made sure he doesn’t make noise before he’s standing in front of the bars, startling the other and making him hastily jump to his feet—foot.

He Xuan doesn’t look at it, and instead opens the door. In he tosses a packet.

“Ration it,” he instructs. “And don’t try anything while I’m gone. Most things on this island do not like you.”

Dumbfounded, Shi Qingxuan stares at the packet. He bows furiously a few times, repeating, “Thank you, thank you very much!”

His form is horrible.

He Xuan turns around, striding away both faster and louder than he came.

The Ghost City is boisterous as always, littered with crimson lanterns and glowing in an eerie shine. It’s loud and overwhelming, the polar opposite of He Xuan’s favoured conditions.

He has to put effort into not pulling a grimace as he walks from smell to smell. The sizzles of street cooking and the chatter of countless ghosts alongside the unintelligible bellow of vendors fighting to sell their items are enough to drive one mad.

One ghost wants to pull him into his shop, loudly shouting his ears off while dragging him, but that ghost doesn’t get far until others grab him by the collar and tell him to please shut up.

At least He Xuan doesn’t need to speak once he reaches Paradise Manor. All doors open on their own, and a servant immediately takes the spot by his side to lead him through wide, ornamented halls.

It’s not long before the noise ceases behind a pair of doors shutting.

Hua Cheng sits more or less upright on a divan, legs crossed and an arm supporting himself on one side. His free hand rests in his lap, ready to gesture for whatever purpose.

He doesn’t say anything, but he raises a brow.

“I apologise,” He Xuan starts. “Something came up.”

“Oh?” Hua Cheng’s brow rises higher.

While the question is unspoken, that doesn’t mean He Xuan can afford to ignore it. He connects his hands behind his back so he can choke his fingers.

“A past acquaintance. I had to assure he does no harm.”

Hua Cheng nods, presumably able to guess the acquaintance. “I didn’t mean to question. I’m sure you know why I called.”

Posture strict, He Xuan shakes his head.

Crimson Rain Sought Flower isn’t one to contact at random. Each of his moves is calculated, and he plans miles ahead. That he calls someone in means he needs assistance with something, which He Xuan is obligated to give.

As Hua Cheng had once put it, ‘If you can’t return a loan in material goods, it’s up to the lender how you pay your debt instead.’

Only mildly sarcastic, he asks, “Is there anything I can aid with, Chengzhu?”

Contented, Hua Cheng smiles. “I’m afraid so. There seems to have been a riot in the Royal Capital not long ago. I’d like to have someone look into it, just stay around and notify me of remarkable changes.”

He’s good at just staying around, so He Xuan inclines his head in acknowledgement.

“Is that all?” he asks, preparing to leave as quickly as he can.

But Hua Cheng only tilts his head, like he’s evaluating something curious. “You can take breaks. If your acquaintance needs to be tended to, you can do so.”

That means Hua Cheng won’t take care of his animals and their habitat, sparing him any further monetary debt. It’s a piece of kindness.

“Thank Chengzhu for his generosity,” He Xuan speaks, and Hua Cheng gives another placative smile.

“No problem,” he says. “I assume you’ll find out by yourself.”

With any usual house, that wouldn’t be much of a problem, but Paradise Manor is big. Even He Xuan has gotten lost before. Finding out by himself means that someone will lead him out.

As expected, the ghost that has brought him detaches from the door when he passes through, showing him which paths to take.

He Xuan has no desire to look around, so his step is brisk, and the ghost accommodates.

“The Royal Capital suffered riots. Is that why you’re here?”

Shi Qingxuan blinks, a half-eaten, half-wrapped steamed bun in his hand. It doesn’t seem like he’s expected a return so soon, but He Xuan hasn’t either.

Coldly, he crosses his arms.

Shi Qingxuan finally reacts, the bun sinking to his lap as he swallows to respond, “Well … There’s been some disagreements. And I kind of got myself on the wrong side of things. But it’s fine now! I mean, I can spend you company, I get fed, I have a window …”

“What kind of disagreements?”

Teetering on the ground, Shi Qingxuan averts his eyes. He doesn’t look like he wants to talk about it.

“Political. Something going on with the royal family … Some people accused the king of claiming their land, yada yada. Everyone was getting worked up about it because they were influential merchants and taxes have gone up, so no one liked the king anymore and they want a different court or whatever.”

He Xuan blows a breath, even though he doesn’t need air.

“How did you get involved?”

It’s obvious that Shi Qingxuan isn’t a mere viewer in this affair. At the very least, he must have been a bystander.

Shi Qingxuan sighs, peeling at the wrap of his bun.

“Ah, I don’t know either. After word spread that I was a god, a few of those merchants started fighting to be favoured by me. I guess they thought I wouldn’t notice, but I did.”

He gave a short laugh. “Rumours really are powerful.”

Silently, He Xuan listens. He memorises what he can relay to Hua Cheng later. As he doesn’t interrupt, Shi Qingxuan keeps going.

“But after a few years, it wasn’t so nice anymore … They started asking me about the heavens and life as a heavenly official. I think they were getting impatient. I pulled up a few lies here and there, nothing big, just to make sure they wouldn’t kick out my servant friends, haha. Ah, I didn’t have to work anyway, not like I’m good for much …”

He lifts what is left of his limbs for emphasis.

“I think they were trying to get the king in their hands, but I didn’t dare say it to their faces. So I talked to some of the folks who were employed there.”

He shrugs, still playing with the wrap of his bun. He looks like he wants to stop talking so he can bite off, which makes He Xuan look to the side to examine the opened packet.

Most of what he’s left is still inside.

He never gave a timeframe, so Shi Qingxuan must have assumed the worst and kept from devouring all the buns when he was hungry. Of course, now that He Xuan is back, he doesn’t need to worry about starving due to badly controlled portions anymore.

Shi Qingxuan doesn’t whine about it.

“Well, they cast me out. But I understand them – It really must feel bad when you’re working all your life just to see someone who doesn’t do anything get all the riches handed on a silver platter, and then they even start complaining.”

At once, he laughs again. “I suppose I’ve just really, haha, learnt to question things more, because of all …” He gestures to the empty space between them, bun in his lap. “… this.”

He Xuan stares at him in disbelief. Shi Qingxuan is really the only one who still manages to pull something positive from having his brother beheaded by the bare hands of someone he’d thought his best friend.

Is this what his revenge amounts to?

“Do you know more?” he asks.

Forehead wrinkling, Shi Qingxuan thinks. “I can tell you their names, if you want …”

After he’s done so without much question, He Xuan can’t hold anything against him. For the lack of reason to bash him, he says nothing, and instead turns on his heel to leave; but Shi Qingxuan calls him back.

“Ah, hey, M— Young Master He, I don’t wanna be impolite, but you don’t need to come by yourself every time, I’d tell a servant the—”

Standing sideways in relation to the bars, He Xuan interrupts, “There are no servants here.”

His face practically radiating excitement at the answer, Shi Qingxuan forcefully suppresses his smile, “Oh, really? Hua Chengzhu’s place is full of them, you know, oh, nevermind, of course you know. Do you really prefer living just by yourself?”

With a jolt, He Xuan snaps, “Shut up!”

It’s not like he can afford servants. With how much debt he’s in, if he’s not careful, he’ll turn into one himself someday, depending on Crimson Rain Sought Flower’s mood.

He doesn’t expect Shi Qingxuan to know of that, but he loathes him for the reminder.

At the outburst, Shi Qingxuan has immediately scampered to the back wall of his cell, hiding in the corner to continue eating his bun. While he does, he babbles on, “Alright, alright … Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean to …”

His face is long back to being dirty and bland.

It’s noticeable that Shi Qingxuan is not very good with his words in dire circumstances. He Xuan remembers the most unfortunate time he’s messed them up in his presence, which resulted in the ultimate decapitation of that dear older brother.

Naturally, he’d rather relent than risk anything of similar impact.

He Xuan turns and leaves without another sound.

The Royal Capital is large.

Quieter than Ghost City, reigned in a way that makes it almost pleasant to walk sun-kissed, peaceful streets.

He Xuan has donned the plain robes of a man living a moderate lifestyle, and basically melts into the crowd on the market, pretending to be checking out the ripeness of a watermelon by knocking on it.

When he sticks, the vendor latches on.

“Take this one, take this one! This one’s the best. They’re all very sweet!” he boasts, pointing furiously at one of the melons.

He Xuan takes it in hand and knocks on it as well.

“Thank you,” he says when he finds this is indeed the most promising one. As he sets it back down, the vendor’s eyes follow his hands diligently.

“Good Sir, can you tell me a good place to work? I’ve travelled here recently and need a source of income.”

Still hoping, the vendor is eager to reply, “Naturally. I know a lot of wealthy merchants – They’re always recruiting. If you can show your skill with the sword or present them a good meal, they’ll definitely appoint you as a guard or servant, and you can make good money to feed your family.”

He Xuan’s expression is hard as steel. It makes the vendor fidget behind his watermelons.

“And where do I go if I want to prove myself?” he asks.

The vendor hoists his arm into one direction. “Right over there is a big mansion. I know the owner – I can lose a good word or two about you!”

His eyes twinkle, and He Xuan doubts that.

“Thank you,” he says nonetheless, tossing a few coins across the melons. The vendor gathers them, but is too surprised to express gratitude before He Xuan is off.

“Very good. Your form is extremely proper. You can expect to be taken in soon.”

Submissively, He Xuan bows his head. “Pray Master will find a spot for me.”

The head of guards gives a curt nod, gesturing for him to step aside. The next contestant enters the courtyard when he exits.

It’s far too easy. He wonders whether he’s just used to worse conditions or if that merchant really is so careless.

It turns out the second option is true.

The merchant is so careless, because he needs whatever force he can get. He’s part of the alliance that got involved with the king, and He Xuan is now one of his guards.

Working his way up is no problem, and a matter of one week at most.

The tension in the house is palpable, and it presses on the rush of serving a master. Servants do their work quietly and as quickly as possible.

He sleeps in barracks together with various other servants, who all avoid him after he’s held a sword to the throat of the first one that came up to him. Since he’s already burdened with one Shi Qingxuan in his life, he takes precautions to avoid acquiring another.

By the time he starts returning for his prisoner, he’s a trusted member of the inner circle. Nobody dares ask where he’s been the night, and nobody dares report it either.

“Sheng Qi, you’re a real treasure. A real treasure!” the merchant exclaims one day after He Xuan provided him with several appropriate strategies to get the population on his side.

“I’m merely doing my job,” he responds.

His skills with the sword are beyond those of any regular soldier, soon promoting him to the position of the wealthy merchant’s personal bodyguard. As such, he receives almost all information about the operation first-hand.

Hua Cheng is pleased with his work, ridding him of that issue for the time being. Back in the Black Fortress, Shi Qingxuan barely notices his leave, so he doesn’t need to bother with that as well.

For a fleeting moment, everything is fine, until he once ventures into the dungeons, only to find a few familiar faces.

They’re gone within the next two days, and he notices the merchant speak less to him.

After a while, he asks.

“Master, did I displease you in some way?”

The merchant looks up from where he’s been deep into some scrolls, wetting his lips.

“But, you’re doing good work, what do you mean?”

He Xuan eyes him with coldness, in the kind of unsettling, passive way he knows makes people talk. The merchant looks like he’s starting to sweat.

“You know, I’ve just been very busy lately. I don’t want to annoy you with my worries all the time.”

He immediately knows what He Xuan was referring to.

Even if He Xuan doesn’t believe one word, he stays quiet. He can’t be sure none of the servants provided intel on his nightly escapades, and the merchant is already in a high-stress situation, currently in the middle of secretive negotiations with the king.

Apparently, it’s time to abandon this master before the master abandons him.

The next day, a muscled, tan-skinned brute from the crowd arises to attack the merchant. He Xuan strikes him down before he can do harm, right before the eyes of rest of the alliance.

His own master is happy to let him go, letting this very fellow that takes him over run into the blade with a false smile on his face. Their alliance is only one for the sake of mutual benefit, after all, and if there’s no benefit to be found in honesty and righteousness, neither is relevant.

This next household is even more interesting.

The merchant who has taken him in is much more experienced, much more calculating, as anticipated. He Xuan would have had a hard time collecting information if not for his past in the other merchant’s household, but like this, he’s already involved in the roughs, and the new merchant has less qualms letting him partake in their planning once He Xuan tells him, in every detail, how his former master intends to backstab them.

At this rate, he’s going to have destroyed the alliance before major harm can be done. But that’s not his goal; after all, Hua Cheng only asked him to investigate. So, he stays below eye level and keeps himself guarded, always with an ear against every door in the estate.

Shi Qingxuan, eventually, does take note of his prolonged disappearances.

He’s free to roam the prison tract now. Since so far, no one has come to get him, it’s unlikely to ever happen, and he’s complained about leg pain from constantly hopping around.

When He Xuan returns to throw the lost leg prosthetic at his head, he finds him crouching next to a small spirit he’s coaxed into talking to him.

“Haha, I don’t understand one word. But your voice is funny,” he says just this moment, when he hears the clatter of something wooden behind him.

Visibly, he flinches, then turns around with wide eyes.

“Since you asked about servants, I’ve thought about it. You’re useless as a prisoner, so you’ll be one from now on,” He Xuan gives him, before he kicks the leg prosthetic so hard it flies into Shi Qingxuan’s stomach.

With judging eyes, he watches as Shi Qingxuan wraps his head around the thing that has been thrown into him.

“That’s my leg!” he exclaims, clutching his stomach. “Thank you!”

“Don’t thank me,” He Xuan forces, grossed out. “What are you waiting for? You have work to do.”

Hastily, Shi Qingxuan pulls over the wooden prosthetic and begins clasping it to the leftover of his thigh. When he jumps to his feet, it looks wonky, and he has to tread back and forth a few times before he can walk.

He’s clearly excited, but he crams it all into a broad smile, bowing as a means to burn his happy energy.

“I’m so grateful, Master He! You’re very benevolent!”

“Stop that,” he snarls, even though Shi Qingxuan was probably not trying to make fun of him.

Shi Qingxuan hurries to follow, not speaking another unnecessary word. He’s quiet until they reach the throne room, where He Xuan stops, turns around, and raises his hand.

Between his fingers, a silvery pair of scissors appears, intricately carved and finely polished.

He can take about one step in Shi Qingxuan’s direction before the latter’s face blanks, and he backs away with his eyes trained on that metal object in He Xuan’s hand.

At first, He Xuan doesn’t get what he’s doing, until he realises what Shi Qingxuan must be thinking.

Confused, he furrows his brows. “Are you stupid? If I wanted to torture you, I wouldn’t do it with a pair of scissors.”

Shi Qingxuan, pressed into the wall behind him, seems sceptical.

“Then why would you take them out?”

He Xuan can only look at him in disbelief.

“Have you ever thought about what a servant does? Do you think everything a master needs is for food plates to be carried around?”

He can tell by the look on Shi Qingxuan’s face that the other hasn’t.

With a huff, he tosses the scissors, in a way that a mortal can easily catch them without bothersome injuries.

“You’ll be cutting the grass in the courtyard for today.”

With that, he turns around, heading up the stairs towards the lonely throne in the middle of the pedestal. Before Shi Qingxuan can wonder, he’s brought an assembly of strokes and sigils to its back.

When Shi Qingxuan blinks next, what he finds isn’t a polished black wall, but instead the luscious green of a garden.

A humbly sized patch of soft, flourishing grass stretches out in front of them, caged in by high walls that resemble the architectural style of the rest of the fortress. It’s surrounded by a path that leads around in a full rectangle, separated from the inside of the yard by black pillars. While the grass glows under the sun, the pathway around it is shaded by a low roof.

In the middle of the arrangement sits a crystal clear pond with waterlilies floating atop its glistening surface.

He Xuan steps aside, into the shadows. He sinks down onto one of the benches that are placed all around, crossing both arms and legs.

Without further prompt, Shi Qingxuan follows outside, but he walks ahead and right into the grass.

He Xuan sees it in his posture that he wants to sprawl himself across that grass, smother himself with the scent of nature and freedom. But, being quite strong-willed when he wants to, Shi Qingxuan squares his shoulders and starts cutting away.

He operates diligently, He Xuan can tell that much.

Tongue between his teeth, he tries to get every stalk to the same length, changing angles passionately like he’s never known anything else.

Though he doesn’t like to admit it, He Xuan is impressed.

For hundreds of years, Shi Qingxuan has only ever known wealth and prosperity, both of which had once been stolen from himself. He’d fallen so low, from a spot among the top ten most worshipped gods to a lowly mortal, a beggar, kneeling among earth that’s cleaner than him, and still he’s somehow maintained that very same upright attitude.

Now, he might need to work hard for a bearable life, but he still shoulders it like he always has. Maybe not proudly, but … certainly with determination.

As his mind goes astray, he doesn’t note the harmless spirit by his foot until it nudges his boot.

He resists the urge to kick it away, for he knows that won’t be of use, and lets it curl up there to keep watching Shi Qingxuan.

While Shi Qingxuan wipes beads of sweat from his forehead, he’s getting surrounded by a whole bunch of low-ranking spirits, all of which try to grab his attention first. Just then, Shi Qingxuan turns his head, first cautious, then openly interested.

“Did you get new pets?” he asks, tracing those small spirits in longing as they hop around the monochromatic figure in their middle.

“They only latch on to the most powerful presence around,” He Xuan replies. “They’re worthless.”

Shi Qingxuan tilts his head. “Then doesn’t that still count as pets?”

He Xuan narrows his eyes, and it’s all that’s needed for Shi Qingxuan to resume his work.

Soon enough, he’ll need to return to the Royal Capital, before anyone notices his absence. He is granted days off, but a day only lasts so long, and this one is coming to an end. By the evening, he has to be back in the barracks.

Little time passes before Shi Qingxuan breaks next.

“Ah, Master He, when did you get my prosthetic from the water? Right after you pulled me up or when you thought I should do duties as a servant?”

He’s stopped cutting, so, before He Xuan grants him an answer, he flicks his hand with a spike of water that he pulls from the damp ground. Shi Qingxuan almost hurls himself back at the grass.

“Why?” He Xuan gives back, “Does it not fit anymore?”

“It fits, it fits, I just wanted to ask.”

“Ask less,” he instructs, voice icy.

On the day of Shi Qingxuan’s arrival, after he returned to the site of prior shipwreck, it didn’t take him long to find the leg substitute. He’s given back because he doesn’t want Shi Qingxuan’s slow walking speed to annoy him.

Upon searching for both, he came across the ship as well, which has roused a question in his mind.

He loses grasp on it once it sees an opening.

“Did you steal that vessel you came with?”

Shi Qingxuan halts his cutting for the second time, but a twitch of He Xuan’s fingers is enough to have him pick it up again. He answers while evaluating a single green stalk, pruning here and there at random.

“Nope. I bought it. It’s all honest work, Master He, I wouldn’t just go ahead and sink someone else’s property. If I’d only lent it, the owner for sure would have been very mad at the late me – or, not the late me, but the imprisoned me.”

He Xuan glares at the back of his head. Shi Qingxuan doesn’t bother looking back anymore, so he can glare all he wants.

After a while, he rises from the bench, clasping his hands behind his back. The spirits scram at his movement.

“I’ll return when you’ve finished the courtyard,” he says.

In the grass, Shi Qingxuan rolls around. “Where’re you going?”

“None of your business,” He Xuan responds, and turns to head back inside through the throne room. Behind him, the wall wards off the hidden courtyard anew, and Shi Qingxuan is trapped.

With a few turns, he’s reached a chamber, where a half-finished array awaits completion.

An assassin’s blade clatters to the ground when He Xuan’s wrist is caught by the hand of a guard, the room illuminating instantly and upset voices exploding throughout.

“Take his sword, take his sword! Remove all weapons!” the man holding his wrist yells. He Xuan grits his teeth, slamming his elbow into the guard’s face and trying to kick him off, but he’s immediately restrained and forced to the ground by two more.

He wants to grab for the dagger that now lies nearby, but someone sends their full weight to crash onto his arm and he can only groan in pain. His head is smacked into the tiled floor, then squashed against it by a heavy knee, so hard he tastes blood.

With four large men restraining all four of his limbs, another one pressing down on his head, he’s sufficiently incapacitated.

While they strip him of several small knives and his sword as ordered, someone tears the hood from his head, but they don’t seem to recognise him.

“Who is this? An assassin?”

A gasp emerges, and someone howls, “It’s that bodyguard of Shen Zhicheng! I’ve definitely seen him before, didn’t he impress everyone with his swordsmanship?”

Among all the scandalised noises and exclamations of ‘Impossible!’, ‘I’ve always said it, that Shen Zhicheng is up to no good!’ and ‘Wait, who’s his master now?’, a groggy voice suddenly emerges.

“What’s going on? Something the matter? Why’re you all standing in my bedroom?”

He Xuan recognises the voice, even though he can’t see who speaks. It’s a third merchant, whose chambers he’s broken into; finally startled awake by the clamour.

He stays still, waiting for them to calm their master down until he causes ruckus again.

“Don’t touch me,” he spits at the guards, one of which now wrestles a piece of cloth into his mouth so he can’t speak anymore. In response, he struggles harder, straining against their bounds and clenching his hands into fists.

“Everyone relax! This matter will be dealt with in no time!” one of those sitting on his legs, presumably the commander of the guards, shouts, which makes the whispers cease.

The merchant, apparently stricken, takes a moment to say, “Into the dungeons. I’ll deal with him myself.”

Being dutiful men, they do just that, and He Xuan is shoved into a prison cell. Metal clangs against metal behind him as the door is shut. He gives the soldiers another chilling glare before they can hurry out.

Once they’ve left and the dungeons go quiet, he goes to sit on the ground in a corner. It’s time to wait.

While he’s used to waiting, and the waiting wouldn’t be an issue – The scenery doesn’t do well on his mind.

He’s already uptight about the situation in his lair, where that disturbance seems to lurk in the shadows wherever he sets foot. He swears he hears Shi Qingxuan’s laughter sometimes, even though he’s at the other end of the fortress, and Shi Qingxuan has no reason to laugh about anything.

Still, the fortress gradually becomes infested with his presence, a disease that spreads like vines throughout the place.

He Xuan doesn’t know how much more of it he can take.

He’s already doing what he can to flee, spending his thoughts on that alliance of merchants instead. It’s not like it’ll benefit him, because Hua Cheng has only ordered him to monitor, not to step in.

It’s too dull, spending his years by himself without a purpose. He almost wishes Shi Wudu were still wandering the heavens. At least he’d have a lead on how to soothe his restless soul, then. The restless, unchanging cycle of existence bores him to death, and he knows how far out of reach his peace is.

Right now, busying his mind with something else is the only way he can shut those vicious, contagious, alluring giggles out.

The life they stem from is no longer his to live, one it would be pathetic to not recognise as a life fake from root to petal. All that is real, all that ever has been real about it, is probably Shi Qingxuan’s laughter, and He Xuan can hardly bear the thought of that.

Locked up in a cell himself, he’s granted a vivid reminder to what he’s once experienced when he could still feel pain.

Although there are no other inmates, he’s not alone in the prison – There’s a bunch of low-ranked prison guards to patrol his cell, several faces he believes to recognise from years ago. It’s the beggars that had once served in the dungeons of that first merchant, who he’s followed all the way here.

These low-ranking ones are those that bring him food and try to pick up conversation with him. A week passes easily while he’s in their custody, but he never opens his mouth for either occasion.

One is prohibited by a bad habit he’s gotten used to, which is worsened by the setting of being barred in.

Since he knows nothing will fill his insatiable stomach, it happens often enough that he’s appalled by food entirely, which results in heavy alternations between eating too much and too little.

The prior worsens his debt, so he makes a conscious effort to stay with the cheaper extreme, though it doesn’t always work out.

In his everyday Royal Capital life, he’s managed, having skipped just about every single meal.

The second reason for not opening his mouth is that there’s no use in talking.

During jail time, he simply rejects any form of conversation that isn’t necessary, even when a guard yells vulgarities at him because he isn’t looking any worse after not drinking for three days.

Something along the lines of ‘Ey, ol’ man, still alive? Too good for food, aren’t ya? Or’re ya one of those people too, hmm?’ become the norm for every visit.

He begins to expect an upcoming exorcism at any moment, until the merchant himself stoops to seeing him.

The landlord looks dishevelled when he comes, robes not adjusted and strands of hair sticking off his head.

He Xuan guesses that me must have a lot to do, seeing as he can’t trust any of the members of his alliance any longer, and the population is breathing down his neck with their unmet desire for quick change.

“Are you a demon?” he asks, breathlessly, over the course of their talk.

“You may call me one,” He Xuan replies.

When the man wants to run more than ever after having spoken to him, he stops him by calling, “Merchant.”

The one he’s spoken to stops in his step, turning his head over his shoulder and ogling him from frightful, uncomprehending eyes.

“Do not trust the people who will gain from your demise. Warn those you’re familiar with of the same thing.”

The merchant stares at him, then, suddenly, he bows.

In the same moment, he’s surprised about his own action, his body freezing with his head still low and mouth hanging open while he stutters, “Thank you, ah … The court will expect you in a few weeks’ time …”

With that, he quickly stumbles out.

Their talk is finished, and it’s almost time for He Xuan to call it a day.

Pleased, he goes to sit on the bed at the side of the cell. He won’t wait too much longer, but for the moment, he has to expand his patience until dinner arrives.

After that, he’s done. Crimson Rain Sought Flower can deal with the rest by himself.

Since his current identity is lost to suspicion, he’ll need to build a new one should Hua Cheng want him to stay in the Royal Capital. But even so, he’ll just take on a different face and continue investigating unnoticed. After keeping the role of the Earth Master for centuries, no amount of acting required seems too difficult anymore.

When the former beggar steps before his cell to push a tray through the small opening designated for this purpose, it’s the first time he speaks to any of his regular visitors.

“Tell me of the god that used to be among your kind.”

The man is so surprised his jaw drops, but not a word comes out. He Xuan gives him a few seconds, before he adds, “Do it soon. My time is limited.”

Such arrogance is enough to pull the man from his daze, and instead, he now pulls a grimace to complain, “You know, for someone who’s gonna be buried soon you’ve got a pretty big mouth.”

Wordlessly, He Xuan raises his brows.

After a few seconds of steady nothing, the man throws his hands into the air. “Fine, fine, I’ll tell ya.  What’s the matter with him? You wanna have him as your pet too?”

He Xuan stands unmoved with his hands behind his back, not following the extensive gestures the man makes with his arms as he speaks.

“Pet?” he asks, though it comes out as an order.

The man obeys, “Indeed, that’s what he was. A little pet, nothing more. Din’t have to work, was fed what he wanted all day long – But, ah, I don’t wanna talk about him so badly, it’s not his fault. Actually, our Ol’ Feng was a good person. It’s just that dumb merchants, you know.”

Obviously, this man has no real loyalty towards those merchants in his heart. He’s here for the money and the place to sleep.

“He got all classy once he was treated like a god. Nothing like the one that hung out with us beggars,” he reminisces, leaning on the stick with an iron tip he has for protection. “At the start, he didn’t want the clothes and jewellery, but over time, you know. In the end, he din’t even know how to talk properly anymore, can ya imagine.”

Shi Qingxuan had indeed been speaking in a less beggarly manner, but He Xuan had blamed it on his own no-mistake-permitting presence.

“At some point, he just left,” the guard shrugged. “Din’t even say goodbye to us.”

Not like they made him feel welcome to do so.

“Well, but it’s not my business anymore, anyway. ‘m sure he’s having a good life wherever he is, being a god and all that stuff.”

Being a god definitely didn’t warrant having a good life. After years in the Upper Court, He Xuan can attest that. And he also doubts Shi Qingxuan is living a life anywhere near good at the moment, carrying stuff around a Ghost King’s fortress that doesn’t need to be carried and painstakingly cutting grass that doesn’t need to be cut with a pair of scissors, all while said Ghost King looms over his every move just to catch the slightest mistake.

Despite all of that, he’s always smiling when he does those things. He’s, without fail, smiling at least once during whatever unnecessary work He Xuan puts him through, like he finds genuine fun in it. He Xuan doesn’t understand it.

“How did you end up here?” the Ghost King asks, tearing the man from a trance. He has the answer laid out.

“Huh? The Ol’ Feng let me in, of course. Whad’ya think, why I don’t wanna talk badly about him? He’s still good, still good. ‘m sorry for the others, really am! A bunch of ungrateful pigs, if you ask me.”

He Xuan pricks his ears. “What do you mean?”

“Aye, what do I mean?” the man drawls, “They cast him out! They’d rather trust those filthy merchants than Ol’ Feng. If it had been me, I’d have never done such a thing, my Lord can be sure.”

His chest bulged, he stands proudly against the bruising glare He Xuan scrutinises him with.

“Is that all?” he asks.

“Yep. Haven’t seen him in ages, can’t tell ya more. If you want him, you’re gonna have to find him yourself, young man.”

He Xuan does not want him. However, now that he has him, he can’t help the sour taste in his mouth at the thought of Shi Qingxuan’s unfaltering attempts to serve as best of a purpose as he can.

When he doesn’t respond anymore, the former beggar mutters a mild insult under his breath and leaves, babbling to himself about ungrateful youths. Not soon after the door shuts behind him, the dungeons are empty again, and all that remains of their one inhabitant is a memory.

Flicked to the cheek with a drop of water, Shi Qingxuan startles awake.

“Who!?” he shouts, tangling up in his rags, only to spot the black-robed figure behind the bars of his bedroom and immediately go quiet.

He Xuan waits until he’s cleared his vision of sleep and risen to his feet.

“Shi Qingxuan,” he croaks, then. “I’ll be gone for a while.”

He doesn’t move, yet the lock of Shi Qingxuan’s cell gives a click. Shi Qingxuan’s eyes automatically snap towards it, and his forehead wrinkles with the hint of a frown.

“Utilise my absence.”

As he walks down the hallway, his ears are trained on the sound of hinges screeching, footsteps hurrying to catch up with him – But nothing of the sort happens. On one side, it’s a relief, on the other, it gives him that sour taste again.

He ignores it and seeks out the chamber with the distance shortening array – He should leave before he thinks better of it.

Ghost City hasn’t changed, it’s still bustling and rustling with vivid impressions.

Hua Cheng welcomes him in the same place as last time, a spacious room accentuated with the crimson hues of veils and velvet carpet.

He tries to focus on the eye that musters him, and the unreadable, faint smile Hua Cheng wears.

“Black Water,” he opens, “I hope you’ve had fun in the Royal Capital.”

He Xuan doesn’t say anything.

“I thought I’d tell you. One of the merchants, Shen Zhicheng, was killed by his own former bodyguard. The alliance has fallen apart, in result of the internal tension following this incident.”

“I didn’t kill him,” He Xuan drily replies. “One of his colleagues did.”

Hua Cheng nods in acknowledgement. “I know. Their relationships are none of my concern. I’d like to keep the situation under watch nonetheless.”

So you can show off to your Crown Prince, He Xuan thinks. He refrains from saying it.

From what he can hear, Hua Cheng will ask him to go back. Not like he can bother, since there’s little else he has to do with his life now that the sole source of his malice is gone.

“Do you want me to stay?” he asks.

Hua Cheng’s eye twinkles at him, then he responds, “No. You’re overqualified for the usual monitoring. I would have asked that old acquaintance of yours, but I understand if you don’t want me to interfere in this matter.”

Of course Hua Cheng knows. He Xuan wonders whether there’s a single piece of information in the world that he doesn’t know, or at least knows how to get to.

He doesn’t let his displeasure show on his face, lest he give away that Shi Qingxuan’s mere mention vexes him.

“Do what you want with him, if you find him,” he says icily.

Hua Cheng’s stare is inevitable and inescapable, and his one eye seems to hold the power of ten. Looking at it makes one pity his enemies.

“Oh?” he questions, in a tone He Xuan has learnt he doesn’t like. “You don’t know where he is?”

Feeling familiar annoyance rise in his throat, He Xuan shakes his head. “I don’t want anything to do with him. If you have tasks for him, go tell him yourself.”

His words are bold, more bold than he tries to be in front of Hua Cheng.

Ensuing from said words, Hua Cheng’s brows lift, but he doesn’t address it further. Instead, he concludes, “Very well. I’ll come back to you.”

Hua Cheng always comes back to him.

A hint of bitterness in his still heart, He Xuan lets his face sink. Hua Cheng has declared their conversation finished, and is now expecting him to leave.

“I want to stay in Ghost City for a few days,” he keeps it going. “Are there any quiet places here?”

For a moment, Hua Cheng considers, before he waves it off. “Don’t bother searching. Be my guest.”

This time, He Xuan gives a full bow of his head. At least he isn’t further increasing his debt, and Shi Qingxuan has time to make up a way to navigate out of his waters.

A few days pass like that, which he spends half pacing around, half eating, since he doesn’t have to pay for anything as long as he’s Hua Cheng’s guest.

He stays for more than two weeks, to be sure to eliminate every hope of Shi Qingxuan’s that he’s testing his endurance. By now, he must have either died of thirst or starved to the point of not having any other possibility than to leave, so when He Xuan departs, he doesn’t worry too much that he’s still around.

If he’s busy dying in some corner of the island, he can do that just fine, He Xuan just doesn’t want anything to do with it.

He even takes the longer route across the water instead of using a distance shortening array.

When he arrives at the beach, all is quiet. A few spirits have followed him, silently watching from within the black water as he climbs ashore and makes his way towards the man-height grass within which the fortress is hidden. Before he crosses the next barrier, he looks to the side; towards the spot where he’s left a ship that can float in his domain.

It’s empty.

Mind at peace, he’s about to enter the grass, but all of a sudden, the silence is no more.

From behind him sound the trills and chirps of water creatures, erratic as they splash about to capture his attention.

“What?” he shoots, before he spots movement in the distance, and his jaw drops with how little he can believe it.

It’s the boat that can float on the Black Sea, sails high and wide, approaching at rapid speeds. Of course, the one standing at the front, disregarding whatever steering he should be doing, is Shi Qingxuan.

It doesn’t take long until he’s close enough to be heard yelling, and within another blink of an eye, the boat has dug its bow into the sand beneath a shallow layer of water. Shi Qingxuan accidentally overruns a few spirits in this manoeuvre, which causes them to complain loudly and snap their teeth at him when he jumps down to speed-hobble towards the beach.

His prosthetic is missing, and he hops by supporting himself half on his remaining leg and a stick, still having the mind to reprimand the spirits for biting at him.

“Now, now! Stop it! I’m sorry I drove into you again, maybe you just shouldn’t sit where I wanna park my ship!”

Unconsciously, He Xuan has taken a few steps back down towards the water, if only because he stumbled.

“He-Xiong! He-Xiong!” Shi Qingxuan shouts as he makes his arduous way through the sand, “Why did you stay away for so long, where did you go? You let me out and then you just leave? Your mansion wouldn’t let me back inside, so I was all alone with the nasty stuff on this island! You can be happy I’m such a survival artist and didn’t get eaten or something!”

He Xuan does not have words for how much he wishes Shi Qingxuan had been eaten.

He’s so shocked he doesn’t know what to say, and as Shi Qingxuan hops into a halt in front of him, he only stares at him in confusion.

Leaning on the stick, Shi Qingxuan tilts his head, mustering He Xuan’s face for some clues on his thoughts. That’s something he’s done very frequently during their time in the heavenly realm, but recently, for the time they were in the fortress together, He Xuan has found Shi Qingxuan wouldn’t look straight at him at all, always somewhere lower or off to the side.

He opens his mouth, forcing himself to say something.

“Why are you still here?”

Not only that Shi Qingxuan is of no use whatsoever to him, he’s much more of a burden. How he fails to realise this after so many centuries of being nothing but a pest is beyond He Xuan.

The pest, meanwhile, states, “Hey, I’m doing you a favour right now. I’m offering my work capacities! I’m still your servant.”

“I don’t want you here,” He Xuan snaps back, but Shi Qingxuan doesn’t even flinch. “You are useless.”

“Ah, there’s no need to be so mean! I’m sure you’ll find something I can do so I’m not useless anymore.”

Once again, He Xuan finds himself in disbelief. Shi Qingxuan’s rank of servant didn’t come from necessity, it is at most another means to harrow him. Truthfully, Shi Qingxuan takes days for a task he could accomplish with a sweep of his hand. As a servant, a mortal has to be about the most useless thing He Xuan has ever come across.

There aren’t even words to express all of this, and with how hopeful Shi Qingxuan looks, it doesn’t seem like he’s to convince, either.

For he cannot say anything, He Xuan seals his lips, boiling in silence at both the stupidity with which he has to bother and his lack of ability to do anything about that.

Being a Ghost King when he should have been a god is already pathetic, but it’s even more pathetic to be a powerless Ghost King.

When Shi Qingxuan opens his mouth, he can’t hold himself any longer.

“Why do you keep trying?” he queries, almost giving too much away. He feels his ice cracking, and it intimidates him how fast Shi Qingxuan has gotten under his skin. His true skin, this time.

He’s not used to blatant confrontation like this. He’s used to observing, keeping his thoughts to himself and being free to do so because no one bothers, or dares, to get too close to him. And now, a pesky mortal is enough to make him want to turn on his heel and go anywhere he isn’t.

Shi Qingxuan doesn’t look like he gets the problem. Straightening his back a little while relying on the stick for support, he says, “Because you were my best friend.”

That’s the last straw, and He Xuan explodes, “I was not!”

Frustration gets the best of him and he’s about to grab Shi Qingxuan by the lapels of his tattered robes, when the other abruptly starts hopping backwards. Shaking his head, he repeats, “I still don’t buy it! I won’t! If you want to get rid of me, you’re gonna have to kill me. How’s that?”

Irritated, He Xuan furrows his brows. The temperature shifts around him.

“You’ve been wanting me to die for so long, why don’t you just finish it yourself?”

It’s like Shi Qingxuan takes off a mask. His expression is hard, untouchable, foreign in a way that feels terribly off.

“Quiet,” He Xuan retorts. “Since wanted to stay so bad, you’re going back to your cell.”

But Shi Qingxuan only moves back when he tries to reach for him, evading him just by the breadth of a hand each time.

“What? You can’t do it? After all those years, am I not even worth a quick death?”

He Xuan stops moving to look at him. He’s been spoiled by people unable to hold his stare, and he forgets that Shi Qingxuan has never been afraid of it.

“Just get it over with,” he says. “Get rid of me.”

In a gut-twisting way, his words remind of the Wind Master’s ever-present, careless pragmatism.

He Xuan doesn’t get to shoot back, because Shi Qingxuan continues right away. Like he’s gathered his strength during the time he was alone.

“Don’t you want to rip my head off too? If so, I invite you. Please do! I ask you to, actually!”

Speechless, He Xuan lets his hand hover in the air.

“Make me suffer all you want, I’m not going. You’ve brought it on yourself. It’s your own fault that I came here, so you can also just stop sulking and leave it be. Is that so hard?”

Gaze stern and unwavering, Shi Qingxuan glares.

It appears he regrets speaking a slight bit, his posture tense, like he’s ready to bolt at any moment. As if that would save him.

He Xuan’s hands itch with the urge to take Shi Qingxuan by the neck and hurl him into the water, yet he doesn’t move a finger. He’s still like a statue, stricken to stone by such raw, courageous words.

Because he can’t even begin to search for what part of that speech deserves his hatred most, he says nothing at all.

“What’s the matter?” Shi Qingxuan says, in another bout of confidence. He must feel backed by He Xuan’s lack of response. “I’m still immortal, so I’ll always come back for you. I suggest you do rip my head off or something.”

At the last part, He Xuan’s question of how after so many years, Shi Qingxuan could still not have grown tired of pestering and annoying him, dies before it reaches his tongue.

Voice shivering with an emotion he can’t name, he starts instead, “This is what you want?”

Within the blink of an eye, he has one hand on Shi Qingxuan’s shoulder and one tangled in his hair.

Shi Qingxuan’s breathing goes frantic, but his expression doesn’t change. If anything, it deepens in intensity. From between He Xuan’s hands, he still has the strength to speak, even if with a noticeable tremor.

“That’s right. Come on – Do what you must!”

Controlling the impulse becomes harder and harder. With every word Shi Qingxuan speaks, he’s fuelling the fire of his own damnation. He Xuan tightens the grip in his hair, and Shi Qingxuan squeezes his eyes shut. Tears that must have collected over months have begun to run down his face, yet he doesn’t make the slightest attempt at evading the source of his suffering.

Without a word, he awaits it. Waits for the numbness to settle, for the painless separation of his mind and body to free his soul.

A whisper slips past He Xuan’s lips before he can hold it back.

“You’re not worth the effort.”

Shi Qingxuan collapses as his hands retreat, folding into himself like a puppet with cut strings. He’s sobbing into his sleeves, working hard to wipe the heavy tears that fall from his lashes in a string of pearls. His sleeves are too stained to wipe anything clean, and instead of clearing his countenance, he smears dirt and fluids all across his cheeks. It makes him look even more pitiful.

He Xuan leans down until they’re at the same level, but Shi Qingxuan barely takes note of him.

“Stop crying,” he says, plainly. “You look ugly.”

Having lost his earlier outspokenness, Shi Qingxuan doesn’t say anything, and lets He Xuan scrutinise without protest. His head drops like a weakened sapling, and his quiet sniffing goes on when He Xuan rises.

“Stop wiping your face,” the latter instructs when he can’t watch any longer, “You’re making it even more dirty.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Shi Qingxuan sobs back, continuing to wipe.

He Xuan’s eyelid twitches, but nothing has changed. He can’t do anything. So, he awkwardly waits until Shi Qingxuan is done bawling, and uses the stick to pull himself up.

“Ah,” he makes, the snot that wants to run down his face unceasing, “I – I have fish. I’ve caught it earlier. Do you want some?”

Having given up on any expectations he might have had towards the lump that was once his greatest nemesis, He Xuan makes a noise that Shi Qingxuan interprets as confirmation.

“Alright,” he sniffs, “It’s, it’s on the boat …”

He fumbles with turning around in the sand to scuttle back down to the water. Without another word, He Xuan follows behind him.

It goes quiet, aside from Shi Qingxuan’s timid attempts to keep various fluids inside him.

When the air thickens while they traverse, He Xuan makes himself ask, “Did you catch fish to eat for the time I was gone?”

It’s among the stupider questions he’s asked, since there’s not much else to eat among weeds and sand.

Hard to make out with the shaky nature of his gait, Shi Qingxuan nods, seeming to pick up speed before he loses it. “What else was I supposed to eat? It’s not like I had many options – Mean little creatures you’ve got there in your water though, aha. I didn’t even see them when I first fell in …”

Suddenly, Shi Qingxuan stops, whipping his head around.

“I didn’t eat any of your pets, did I?” he asks, tone unsteady with a mild touch of mortification.

“It’s fine,” He Xuan replies, defeated.

Shi Qingxuan’s mortification breaks into a meagre smile. “Oh, then I’m relieved.”

They climb up the side of the boat, and Shi Qingxuan heads towards the net that is mounted at the stern. When he pulls it up, there are exactly two small fish inside. Puzzled, he blinks at them.

Looking over his shoulder, He Xuan says flatly, “You’re very talented.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Shi Qingxuan drops the net, struggling to fetch it from the air.

“Aha, I am!” he confirms once he’s managed, “It’s your sea, there aren’t many fish here! Do you have something to put them in? Ah, I don’t want to touch them too much …” He wiggles the muddy fingers of his one hand.

It’s a mystery how he manages to keep them so filthy at all times.

For some reason, his face has lit up – the brightness in his eyes has returned in beaming glory.

After storing the fish in a qiankun pouch, they jump back down the ship, into the shallow water that now is devoid of little water ghosts.

“Where did they go?” Shi Qingxuan wonders, but receives no answer.

While they work up the sandy slope, He Xuan has time to examine him from behind. His unkempt hair, his empty sleeve, the ripped trousers that need to cover one sole leg – The rags that barely hide the bruises on his rough, tanned skin, scars that are etched all across the bared parts of his body.

The way he stumbles and trips his way up the beach, threatening to fall over any moment, how he’s panting with exhaustion at such mild exercise.

He Xuan stops walking, which in turn makes Shi Qingxuan stop. At first, he looks back, then turns his full body.

From a few feet away, He Xuan speaks, “Shi Qingxuan. There is a question I’ve been meaning to ask.”

Shi Qingxuan raises his brows, curious. “Then there’s no need to stop walking, is there? You can just ask.”

He Xuan stays where he is.

“Why would you forgive me?”

There is another attempt at adapting better posture from Shi Qingxuan, but the result looks rather mediocre. With only one leg and arm, he needs the stick to keep from falling over, so he gives up on it not soon after.

His mouth opens and closes a few times, and it takes a moment until he replies.

“I just think … What has been said and done can’t be changed now, anyway, so it’s no use to fuss about it so much. That … that business, I didn’t have much to do with it. I know my brother did something very bad.”

Such a mentality has to be about the dumbest He Xuan has heard in a while.

“What?” he snarls, “Do you just forgive all the bad anyone has ever done to you? That’s basically asking to get butchered.”

Someone with such a mindset would hardly achieve anything, nevermind building up the tiniest pinch of respect for their person – Save for with the help of good fate, of course. He Xuan grinds his teeth unnoticeably.

Shi Qingxuan hesitates, then sighs.

“Honestly, I kind of knew he was going to end up like that one day. And I don’t want him to decide my life for me when he’s not even here anymore. That doesn’t mean I don’t miss him, of course, I miss him a lot, actually …”

He smiles again, tucking the hurt hat had crept onto his face away behind it.

“But it’s not like there’s any use in it if I’m mad. I can’t do something against you anyway, haha.”

“So you don’t even try?”

He Xuan doesn’t get the appeal of relenting so easily. It’s weak just as much as it is lazy.

Across from him, Shi Qingxuan does something akin to a shrug, though it’s hard to tell with his impeded shoulders. “I don’t want to try. What would it help me to condemn you? It can’t bring my brother back, either. So … there’s really no point.”

How idiotic of a view. It hasn’t been thought through one bit.

If Shi Qingxuan forgets about every bad thing someone does to him, it leads to the other party believing they’re free to do however they like. Without punishment, people would use and abuse Shi Qingxuan’s benevolence for their own gain over and over again, and he’d take it all with a smile. Obnoxious and naive.

“This is how you get people to trample on you and use you as a stepping stone,” He Xuan says, but Shi Qingxuan dismissively flicks his head to the side.

“It’s not like I’d do that for everyone, of course.”

To that, He Xuan doesn’t know what to say.

His mouth stays closed, so Shi Qingxuan takes up the word once more. “I knew Ming-Xiong like the back of my hand. I can get to know He-Xiong just as well.”

It sounds like a pledge, a promise. The consequence of everything he’s said before, a conclusion he’s lead them to reach. It sounds so very believable.

He Xuan studies him with suspicion. When he starts speaking, he half-chokes on his own words.

“Fine. Stay.”

Watching the expression slip off Shi Qingxuan’s features, he adds tightly, “One misstep, and I’ll chop you up and turn you to fish feed.”

He can’t back off as quickly as Shi Qingxuan closes the gap between them, and before he can realise what the other is up to, the arm around his torso already scares the breath out of him.

Not that he breathes, but with this, for certain, he feels like he can’t.

If Shi Qingxuan was still the Wind Master, He Xuan probably would have sent him through several walls. But, for some reason, the only thing happening now is that he freezes from head to toe.

He’s still like a rock within the arm Shi Qingxuan is pressing the life out of him with, not even capable of turning his head away so the stray ends of Shi Qingxuan’s hair don’t tickle him.

A mortal body grows warm after a moment or two, and it seeps through his layers like Shi Qingxuan tries to burn him with full intention.

It costs time until he breaks through and is finally able to propel Shi Qingxuan to the other side of the beach.

Hand still risen from where it erupted into a blast against Shi Qingxuan’s shoulder, he watches as the other rolls through the sand a distance away, limp and strengthless.

No matter flying through the air and smacking into the sand, Shi Qingxuan gets up right away like a persistent cockroach. Without the stick that is now lost in the dunes, he has to quite literally hop and flail back.

“Alright, alright, no need to get so mad!” he calls over, “Woah, He-Xiong, that was a blast. Were you always so powerful when you pretended to be the Earth Master? It must have been so hard to keep a low profile!”

Once he’s returned to within a reasonable space between them, He Xuan rasps, “Never do that again.”

Looking unconvinced, Shi Qingxuan babbles, “Of course, of course, I won’t. Well, what do we do now?”

“I don’t care what you do!” He Xuan tells, about to turn around and stomp towards his fortress, but Shi Qingxuan comes up with something quicker than he can escape.

“Oh! I’ll go pet the creatures then.”

Since there is a small chance they’ll bite his other arm off as well, He Xuan unwillingly decides to join.

The water spirits surprise him with serenity, crowding around Shi Qingxuan once he gives them permission. They coo into his palm and let him caress their faces, fighting for his attention so much that he has to apologise, “I’m sorry, I only have one hand!”

By the fourth time he almost falls over, He Xuan asks with annoyance, “What happened to your leg?”

Irritated, Shi Qingxuan looks down at himself, not pausing in his caretaking, “Huh? It’s fine?”

“… The false one.”

“Oh. I lost it again.”

He Xuan subconsciously moves his gaze towards the open sea, fighting the urge to drag Shi Qingxuan through the wet sand.

“In the water?”

Pinching a spirit’s cheeks, Shi Qingxuan nods. The spirit grins, showing rows upon rows of small, razor-sharp teeth. “He-Xiong, He-Xiong, don’t be mad. I’m very sorry! You don’t need to get it for me again. I’ll just make a new one from a tree or something.”

He Xuan would be astonished if Shi Qingxuan knew what chisel and mallet are. He’ll send a bone dragon to collect the prosthetic some time later.

“Crimson Rain Sought Flower said he might have a use for you,” he switches topic. Since Shi Qingxuan is already on his island, he might as well help him pay off his debt and serve in that way.

“If you intend to return to the Royal Capital, he’d appreciate you for correspondence about politically relevant changes.”

The spirit now nagging at his fingertips, Shi Qingxuan laughs, “Oh, haha, ow! Well, I don’t know if I want to go back yet. I’ve been here for so long, and they didn’t really like me anymore … Maybe later.”

Suddenly, the spirit that was nagging at him screeches, scurrying back into deeper water and out of sight. Shi Qingxuan doesn’t have time to ask himself about it, because the next one has long taken the spot in his lap. So, he just accepts it and starts stroking that one instead.

“Are … are you in contact with Crimson Rain Sought Flower, then?”

He Xuan side-eyes him. “Yes.”

He’s aware of what Shi Qingxuan wants to ask, but since he doesn’t, the question dissipates. Quietly, he continues indulging the spirits.

Maybe another time.

The scent of nature welcomes him when He Xuan steps outside, the courtyard that’s carved into the dark body of the fortress unfolding with colour in front of him.

Aside from soft, green grass, there’s now a lot of subtle specks decorating it, burgundy and white and pale yellow distributed evenly across. The pond in the middle rests idly, reflecting sunlight in a way that makes it glitter like made of diamonds.

The inconspicuous figure to the side is harder to see among so many vibrant, fanciable flowers, but He Xuan spots it right away.

Shi Qingxuan is crouching on the ground, leaning forward for better view on the bumblebees that crowd the shrub in front of him. He’s so invested he only notices He Xuan when the latter kicks his side with the tip of a boot.

Used to this method of having his attention roused, Shi Qingxuan tilts his head up, eyes locking with the stick in He Xuan’s hand and brightening in an instant.

“Thank you!” he exclaims before diving into the roasted fish at its end, his thoughts back on the bumblebees not one moment later while he eats away.

A few small spirits have crowded around him, some leaning against him and dozing there, but He Xuan isn’t sure if he’s noticed. He doubts it, since Shi Qingxuan is so busy with the bumblebees.

He’s talking to them through a mouthful of fish, asking where they’re headed and why they’ve come to this gloomy place. As if he’s talking to people he wants to befriend.

Even He Xuan’s lonesome home hasn’t affected his habit of scheming to befriend at least one living, or non-living, creature a day.

At once, Shi Qingxuan’s face snaps towards him. The way it loses structure after that is comical.

“Hey, do that again!” Shi Qingxuan demands, hurrying to his feet to grab He Xuan by the inky fabric of his robes. “I saw that!”

“What?” He Xuan snarls, wiping his hands off, but Shi Qingxuan isn’t so easy to get rid of.

“You were smiling!”

He Xuan was, at most, straightening his lips.

“I wasn’t,” he snaps.

Shi Qingxuan lets go. His eyes glow bright as the sun behind him, like he’s discovered the meaning of life. To not need to endure their glare any longer, He Xuan crudely smacks a few pieces of vegetation from his shoulders and points his attention there.

“Why are you rolling around in the grass with new robes? I think you’re living too well, maybe you should wear the rags again instead.”

Quickly, Shi Qingxuan shakes his head. “Apologise! I’m just not used to it, you see … Oh, you’re not worsening your debt to Hua Chengzhu by getting me new clothes, are you?”

“Get lost.”

He Xuan turns on his heel, heading back inside. Faint cackling sounds from behind him, but Shi Qingxuan doesn’t say any more.

At least he tends well to He Xuan’s family, planting flowers on their graves and filling their resting place with chatter. It’s better than anything he himself could do.

When he’s gone, Shi Qingxuan crouches before the bumblebees again, munching on his fish.

“What?” he asks them, “It’s his own fault for pulling me out of the water.”