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Di Feisheng’s life was upended one week ago, when the letter arrived on the shore of the Eastern Sea. Since then his days have been a flurry of trying to organize the search parties, while his nights have been spent alone at Wangjiang Pavilion, gazing numbly at the hilltops gilded in silver moonlight, fearing the dreams that might come if he dared sleep for more than a few hours. Even the fleet-footed, eagle-eyed Jinyuan scouts under his command needed their rest, though there would be none for himself until Li Xiangyi was found.
A small table and two stools had been moved into the pavilion, a token of trusty Wuyan’s thoughtfulness. He sat, his only company a small vessel of wine and two matching cups. He poured for two, entertaining the foolish notion that the presence of liquor might entice Li Xiangyi to return. He had even tracked down the same vintage as the one they had shared that night.
He took a drink and chastised himself for having left Lotus Tower, for having felt the need to clean house at Jinyuan Alliance. He shouldn’t have let Li Xiangyi out of his sight nor insisted on a duel that the man had clearly never wanted, even though he had meant the challenge as more of a friendly sparring match than a decisive contest. That was the last time he was going to leave Fang Duobing in charge of Li Xiangyi, a lesson that came hard learned. He took another drink, the wine helping his mind wander down the fanciful what-ifs—if he’d stayed and badgered Li Xiangyi into taking the Wangchuan Flower, Emperor be damned. Lotus Tower would be hundreds of li from here, and perhaps he would be sharing this wine instead of drinking alone.
There wasn’t enough for him to get drunk—he had some self-discipline left—but there was enough to let him nurse his regrets all night. He spent this night as he had many, glumly watching the moon traverse the night sky, its reflection slowly processing across the rippling surface of the Wangjiang River.
It wasn’t until the horizon beyond the hills began to lighten that he heard the first sound that wasn’t the burble of the water nor the chirp of the crickets near the riverbed, but the crunch of dirt beneath light footfalls. Di Feisheng stilled, but neglected to reach for his blade. There was no one left in the world who could hurt him, no one equal to his skill or strength against whom he had to be on his guard. He would have been on his feet in a second if the footsteps belonged to Li Xiangyi, but the cadence was all wrong.
Qiao Wanmian appeared on the path a few moments later, her sword in her left hand and a travel bag slung over the same shoulder. She looked weary, her light pink robes smudged with dust from the road, but her eyes lit up when she spotted him. Her pace quickened, as if she was afraid that he might depart if he saw her. She must have been looking for him, though to what end Di Feisheng did not know. From her expression, from the way she gathered herself as she reached him, it did not seem that she came bearing good news.
It better not be bad news, Di Feisheng thought darkly and then pushed that possibility out of his mind as quickly as it had come.
Di Feisheng called out to her. "Qiao-guniang. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Di-mengzhu." She raised her sword in greeting.
Qiao Wanmian had been in command of Sigu Sect when they had taken down Shan Gudao and rescued the princess and Minister Fang. Though Sigu and Jinyuan were allies now instead of enemies, there was no personal enmity nor friendship between them—no favors rendered and nothing owed in kind. There was little reason for her to be here, for nothing linked them together in the stories of their lives, save for the fact that they were the only two people who knew what it felt like to be loved by Li Xiangyi. However, Di Feisheng hadn’t told anyone what transpired the night that he'd been saved from the clutches of Jiao Liqiao, so he and Qiao Wanmian remained at best acquaintances.
Di Feisheng gestured for her to sit opposite him. A few weeks ago he would have left her standing, but on account of her history with Li Xiangyi, he offered her this courtesy.
"I am afraid I have just finished the wine," he said, though it was a bald-faced lie, for his cup and the one reserved for Li Xiangyi were still filled. He always saved the last of the liquor, on the off chance that Li Xiangyi might be thirsty upon his return.
Qiao Wanmian shook her head in polite refusal, willing to overlook the lack of hospitality he was in no state of mind to offer.
"How goes the search?" she asked gently. She did not insult him by inquiring after how he was doing, surely that was obvious enough.
"It continues.” Di Feisheng took note that she did not answer his initial question, so he extended further perfunctory pleasantries, a little curious what Li Xiangyi's ex-fiancée wanted with the Chief of Jinyuan Alliance. "How goes the search with you?"
"Unfortunately, we have no leads. Fang Duobing doesn't have any either.” Qiao Wanmian lowered her eyes. “I'm sorry."
Of course. It wasn’t as if he'd been expecting good news, Di Feisheng had to remind himself. He felt his chest constrict, his throat tighten, and he forced himself to draw a deep breath. It was a moment before he was able to speak again.
"Then we keep searching until we find him." There was no other alternative.
Qiao Wanmian nodded in agreement. She regarded him, studying his expression, a hint of concern knitting her brows. Di Feisheng sensed that she was hesitating about something, and schooled his face into a mask of neutrality.
"Anything else, Qiao-guniang?" he asked, giving her the opening she needed to say whatever it was she needed to say. He hoped she would spit it out quickly, and then be on her way.
"Yes, there is.” She hefted her bag onto her lap and reached inside. “I have something that belongs to you."
Di Feisheng frowned. He couldn't recall anything of his that might have fallen into Qiao Wanmian's hands.
Instead of any of his belongings, what she pulled from her bag and placed between them was the hilt of the broken Shaoshi Jian. Di Feisheng's first instinct was to snatch it, but he restrained himself. Sigu Sect had laid claim to the pieces of the sword when they had first searched the area. Why was it here? He glanced up at her with alarm. What did she know?
Qiao Wanmian began softly. "Xiangyi told me everything," she said.
Everything. The word echoed all the way down into the deepest recesses of Di Feisheng's mind.
"He told me how you first met all those years ago, how you challenged him when he was on the road, and how the two of you then traveled together for a month." Qiao Wanmian said. "Did you know that he went missing for so long, we ended up mobilizing all of Sigu Sect to look for him?" Her gaze was distant, lost in memory. "Now that I am able to piece things together, I realize that that must have been the month you spent in his company."
Di Feisheng blinked slowly as the memories came in a flood. It felt like almost a lifetime ago, when he had fought and killed his way up the martial rankings, until only Li Xiangyi had been left. He had been on his way to Sigu Sect to throw down the challenge when he’d run into him purely by accident en route. They had been nearly evenly matched back then, their first duel lasting from noon until midnight with no victor. Di Feisheng had refused to leave until the match was decided, but Li Xiangyi claimed that he'd had a long list of important Sigu business to attend to, so they had agreed that they would spar every day for no more than fifty moves, until a clear winner emerged. Days and days of duels had ended in draws, which had turned into days and days spent traveling together–battling off the same bandits, sharing the same fire, getting soaked in the same rain, sleeping under the same sky. Toward the end of their journey they'd had to dodge scouts sent from both Sigu Sect and Jinyuan Alliance, for they hadn't wanted their travels to end, hadn't wanted to return to the responsibilities of leading their sects.
"I remember," Di Feisheng said, allowing his mouth to twist in a rare, wry smile. He wished so fiercely to relive those days with Li Xiangyi that he almost trembled with it.
Qiao Wanmian continued. "He also told me how you used to meet in secret, that you two came up with the peace treaty on one of your trysts.”
So she knew that Li Xiangyi hadn't been true to her, then, that Li Xiangyi had promised her marriage, but then dallied on the side with him. Di Feisheng tensed, one hand half ready to reach for his dao in case she might make a move, but there was no acrimony in her voice, no jealousy. She held his gaze, her back upright, her eyes bright, the corners of them crinkled upward in a smile even though her eyes were damp.
"He told me all about how you and Fang Duobing uncovered Shan Gudao's plot, and how he rescued you from the hands of Jiao Liqiao." She cast an understanding at the still full cups on the table between them.
"What else did he tell you about that night?" Di Feisheng asked, still wary.
"He told me about the promises you exchanged, and that it felt to him as if he had finally done something he should have done long ago."
That was an interesting perspective on their marriage, after such a long association, Di Feisheng supposed. He wondered what Li Xiangyi was doing now, abandoning him, abandoning everyone, after they’d all just found him again.
"Di-mengzhu, I think he was happy. So I am happy for you too. Xiangyi doesn't know how fortunate he is to have someone like you, someone who will never give up on him."
"You really think that?" Di Feisheng asked, unable to keep a tinge of bitterness from coloring his words.
"I do." Qiao Wanmian said. She was earnest, open, and kind, and thus utterly unlike any woman Di Feisheng had ever known.
"Because you have been able to keep up with him every step of the way, no matter how fast or how far he strides,” Qiao Wanmian explained. “He shines so bright, he's blinding. You've caught the sun, Di-mengzhu, and yet you live, and desire to embrace it again. I know that you would overthrow the heavens for him. Even if you search the four corners of the world only to find him with one foot in the underworld, I know that you are the only person able to save him."
Her smile widened into a grin, radiating warmth as the first rays of the morning broke free from the hills. Belatedly, it occurred to Di Feisheng that she was the one person in the world who understood him, who had felt what he was feeling now—the agony of having been loved and then abandoned by Li Xiangyi. Whether he liked it or not, they shared that common bond between them.
Had she come to comfort him? If so, Di Feisheng could not find it in him to turn her away, or even think ill of her intentions.
Qiao Wanmian nudged the remains of the Shaoshi Jian toward him, encouraging him to take it. "This should be yours,” she insisted. “Xiangyi would want you to have it."
Di Feisheng drew another breath, and this time it shuddered in his chest, like a mournful gale howling through a forest. He had to close his eyes to steady himself. He refused to shed any tears in front of Qiao Wanmian, even though he’d just discovered that they ought to be closer than they were, that they had probably shed more already than they had ever meant or wanted to.
She waited patiently while he stilled the tumult of his emotions. Then he reached forward, and took her gift in his hand. He had touched this sword but a few times. He had always admired its craftsmanship, the fine details on the clouds decorating its hilt. Broken by its bearer, the Shaoshi Jian was now disappeared from Jianghu, and Li Xiangyi with it. Even if he were to have the sword reforged, it would no longer be the same, it would no longer carry the essence of its master, if its master was no longer around to wield it.
Di Feisheng's fingers closed so tightly around the hilt that his hand began to ache, but he could not bear to let go. He had nothing of Li Xiangyi or Li Lianhua with him, he hadn’t even had the heart to take anything from Lotus Tower, afraid that disturbing anything from its rightful place might amount to admitting defeat, to opening himself to the possibility that Li Lianhua was gone for good. He was not ready for that, he would never be ready for that.
"If anyone can find him, it's you, Di-mengzhu," Qiao Wanmian said.
"Thank you." Di Feisheng found that her words were a balm, a mortar, holding together the cracks in his heart which threatened to break it asunder. He did not know how long he gripped Li Xiangyi’s sword, but when he finally let go, he found the shape of clouds deeply imprinted into the palm of his hand.
"What do you want from me in exchange?” he asked her. “I don't like owing others a kindness."
"You don't owe me anything. Just keep looking for Xiangyi, that's all. I suppose we should call him Li Lianhua now, or whatever new name he’ll invent for himself when he comes back."
Di Feisheng snorted. "Sly Old Fox," he muttered, and that nickname—half-insulting, half-affectionate—elicited a smile of amusement from Qiao Wanmian. She didn't know Li Lianhua as well as he did, the man's excuses, his cheek, his insouciance, but Di Feisheng got the feeling that she was content with not knowing. Her time with Li Xiangyi had come and gone, and she had made her peace with those memories.
"I think it is about time I took my leave. You have a busy day ahead of you," said Qiao Wanmian as she rose to her feet.
"What are your plans?" Di Feisheng asked, finding that he suddenly cared what she was going to do next.
"I will search with the rest of Baichuan Court for a few more days, but after that…I have my own life I must live. There are places I want to go and people I want to visit." Qiao Wanmian seemed satisfied with her choice to give him the Shaoshi Jian, satisfied with her choice to live her life free of the weight of Li Xiangyi. She turned to him one last time, her expression hopeful.
"Di-mengzhu. I have seen how much you love him, more deeply than I ever did. Xiangyi knows this too, and that is why I believe that you will find him, and why he will come back to you.” She raised her sword, and gave him a short bow. ”One day, I want to share a toast with the both of you—to a prosperous, happy, and very long union."
“I would like that.” Di Feisheng rose too, and clasped his fist in salute.
"Farewell, Di-mengzhu."
"Qiao-guniang, farewell."
He remained standing as she retreated back down the hill, heading in the direction of Baichuan Court. By the time she was gone, dawn had brightened into a brilliant, clear morning. He took his seat again, knowing it wouldn’t be long until Wuyan came to find him. Until then, the cups were still full, so he finished his nightly ritual, and downed the contents of both at once—his portion, and Li Xiangyi’s as well.
Not long after, Wuyan appeared, using his lightness skill to climb the hill swiftly.
"My Lord," he bowed. Wuyan cast a glance at the table, and eyes widening as he spotted the Shaoshi Jian.
Where did you get that? he seemed to ask, but knew better than to voice the question aloud.
"Qiao Wanmian paid me a visit.” Di Feisheng picked it up again, his spirits buoyed by the weight of it in his hand. “Make sure the men and women of Jinyuan Alliance know to come to her aid, if she happens upon any harm during her travels.”
"Understood."
Di Feisheng tucked the Shaoshi hilt into his belt. He would have to find a more permanent place for it later, perhaps a strap so that he could wear it around his hip, to keep it by his side, a reminder of what he’d lost and what he still had to find. Li Xiangyi, Li Lianhua, his erstwhile rival, his friend, his husband, the man that he wanted to live out the rest of his days with. He was out there, somewhere. Di Feisheng decided that he was going to be the one to bring him back.