Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Warning: Depiction of Blood and Death

His eyes closed before his brain could completely stop.

He could feel the countless wounds on his body and the fatal hole in his chest bleeding out, soaking his clothes and the already blood-spilled ground beneath him. Sound fell deaf on his ears, blood flooding his ear canals. 

There was nobody who could heal him during this war. 

Not on this battlefield. 

Not in this battle. 

He remembered his own last words before his voice was completely drowned by the blood in his throat. His last wish for his beloved family to be taken care of — one last request.

They haven’t even faced the Heavenly Demon yet, but Tang Bo was already going to lose his life here after fighting so hard. Could he think of a shittier way to die?

…Well, dying without meeting his hyung, probably. 

At the thought of his lover, he was suddenly shaken awake—although it is unable to keep him from meeting death’s palms. Jadedly, he opened his eyes once again, the mere action feeling so numb and heavy. He was quickly losing the feeling of his own body. 

He could barely make out the silhouette of a man kneeled above him, his eyes conflicted on whether to hold onto Tang Bo’s dying body or focus on the battlefield before them. Perhaps he could even feel the teardrops falling on his cheeks—if only his skin hadn’t grown so cold. He could almost laugh. When was the last time his hyung cried…?

But he didn’t dwell on that thought. He couldn’t dwell on that thought. His brain began to feel fuzzy. He was quickly losing his thoughts in his battle with death. There was no other thought in his brain than death, death and death. He knew he was dying, but he couldn’t even think that he knew.

The world was quickly turning cold, and numb. But even though he was near the end and quickly fading away, he could feel it.

The weight of someone else’s sadness.

He could not feel it, but tears dripped down from above him, slipping away from his white, cold-nipped cheeks. 

He could not hear it, but the voice of a man who was usually loud and boisterous was now quiet and forbidden, unwilling to let him go. 

But it was not his choice whether Tang Bo would live or not. 

His soul was slipping away, fading into a darkness he would not be able to wake up from anymore.

But like a miracle, the world was suddenly lifted from its silence. And from the mouth of the man he loved the most, the last words he heard.

“–on’t… leave me….. …diot… Tang Bo ……

–Bo… Bo-ah……"

"Tang Bo!!!"

The body jerked awake.

"Gods, hurry up and out of bed! The disciples of Mount Hua are about to leave, we must see them off!"

….What? What was happening?

Mount Hua….?

Before he could process even a single thought, Tang Bo was hurriedly pulled out of bed. His brain was in a jumble as he was pushed all the way out of a room and then suddenly urged to put on shoes that didn't belong to him. 

Wasn’t he dead? Was he in heaven? Was he just recalling a memory before his soul finally rose to see god?

But he had no recollection of a scene like this. Not the layout of this house he was supposedly sleeping in, and certainly not the unfamiliar face of the person pushing him all the way out of the house, speaking to him as if they knew each other closely.

However, things were even stranger beyond this house and that person. Every sensation felt unfamiliar: his vision was lower, his head was lighter and his hair was shorter; even his feet, which he thought wouldn't fit the tiny leather boots, fit them perfectly!

"Quick! Quick! Quick! Aghh, I knew I shouldn't have let you take a nap! You keep oversleeping these days… If there's something wrong with you, you better make your own medicine!"

Due to the incessant fussing of the man who was repeatedly hitting his back, he slowly became more and more awake, and less focused on the past and more on the present. He couldn't help but be irked at the person pushing him around like he was some kid. He may not be as strong as his hyung, but he wasn’t not powerful! Being able to be around someone like hyung was a skill in itself, as said by his hyung’s acquaintances! 

But despite his internal fussing, his body refused to emanate any aura to communicate his thoughts. Instead, he continued to be shoved out of the front door and pulled towards a small crowd just standing by the street. When they saw him behind them, a few voices started speaking up.

“He’s alive!”

“Bo-yah, were you sleeping again?”

“Oh! You finally brought him out, Beom? Come here quickly, child. They’re already leaving!”

The older woman reached out for his smaller hand and pulled him towards the front of the crowd. He could barely catch sight of the scene at the gate, as the group that crowded in front of the house was not the only group to crowd the area. Their bodies towered over him, he was definitely a few inches shorter than before. 

But before he could brood any further, the sound of a smooth sword deafened every other noise. The crowd stayed silent as they watched what seemed like a splendour. Tang Bo’s shoulders were propped by two hands to guide him near the sound, but before he could even catch sight of the source— it disappeared. 

Instead, as he finally appeared in front of the crowd, he was met with that undeniably acquainted scent. Cherry-colored plum blossoms fell, and tained the sky.

Dazzlingly… beautiful plum blossoms.

So beautiful, and so familiar.

The crowd surrounding him let out gasps of awe at the scene, seemingg as though the plum blossoms bloomed from the edge and flow of a sword. The flowers appeared and flowed in the air, but like an illusion, disappeared before they touched the ground. 

“Woah, look at that! The gate is engraved with plum blossoms!”

“I guess this means we really are “friends” with the Mount Hua sect, then?”

“Those plum blossoms were beautiful…”

But Tang Bo could not hear the words of the bystanders around him. In fact, every sound became quiet in his ears as he watched the man standing on top of an iron carriage turn his back to the gates, sheathing his plum blossom sword. 

Tang Bo eyes stared and stared at that back, seemingly entranced by that man.

Because they were so similar.

The body was smaller and thinner—almost delicate, but his long, messy black hair tied sloppily with a long, pine green ribbon, and the way he stood so self-assuredly was something Tang Bo had been familiarised with for the majority of his life. It was also something that he was sure to memorize; his nature, his temperament, the way he walked, the way he fought, the way he held his sword, and even the way stood. 

How could he not? He had always been staring at him, was it so wrong for a love-stricken man to admire his muse? 

Suddenly, something in Tang Bo roused awake. As if the eyes of his soul had been closed in this body until this very moment, that distant memory replayed itself in his mind.

The man stood amongst a grove of flowering plum blossom trees, in one of the most secluded yet most beautiful spots on the peaks of Mount Hua. The trees surrounding the two figures towered above, filling the air with its signature scent—something both of them had become accustomed to.

However, despite the flowers from the trees threatening to fall off and come down, plum blossoms fell not from the wavering branches of the trees, but from the man’s performance of Mount Hua Sect’s most dangerous sword techniques. 

It was simply the execution of a deadly skill, capable of taking and breaking countless lives with a single touch of a razor sharp plum flower. Even from the moment he drew his sword, Tang Bo felt his own breath being taken away.

Tang Bo had personally requested the man to perform this for him, unknowing of the effects it would have on his being: Plum blossoms danced beautifully from the tip of his sword; blooming in the midst of its own illusion. It kissed the air with its edge, holding a power as gorgeous as it was dangerous. It lasted for only a few moments, but it felt like Tang Bo would never be able to take those few moments off of his mind.

It was unforgettable.

He was unforgettable.

And even until now, Tang Bo had never been able to forget.

His first love, and his last.

. . .

Tang Bo later found out, that he was in fact, not Tang Bo.

At least, not the Tang Bo he was.

No, he wasn’t Tang Bo, the Dark Saint. He was Tang Bo, a 15-year-old distant descendant of the Tang Family, with parents who decided it would be great to take the name of his ancestor, unknowing of the fact that they were giving him his own name.

Yes, it was a truly dizzying matter. 

It dizzied Tang Bo even further when he saw his reflection in the mirror, and found that he had almost the same face he had before, but as if he had gone back in time and became his old 15-year-old self around 50 years ago. Of course, that was an unquestionably, absolutely wrong assumption. Because he did not go back 50 years in time. Instead, he went forward 100 years after the death of the Heavenly Demon, and correspondingly, his death.

His supposed family was startled by his sudden barrage of bizarre questions, even urging him to go back to sleep and rest even though he has allegedly been stuck in constant slumber these past few days. 

He guessed that the reason for that was, of course, for his reincarnation.

However, he would receive answers soon enough. His older brother, (the guy who woke him up that day), Tang Beom entertained his bizarre queries, answering everything he could with half a face full of skepticism. And after that, his most immediate questions were answered.

First, the fall of the Mount Hua Sect.

The most surprising one of all. 

Or that was so, until he learned of the name of the man who performed that Mount Hua sword technique in front of their gates before departing.

Mount Hua’s Divine Dragon, Chung Myung.

Chung Myung.

His brother described him to be a genius, a master who was strong enough to win a wager with the current family head and an elder, as well as establishing a friendship between Mount Hua and the Tang family. He was going to become the strongest in the entire world, he said. 

And Tang Bo couldn’t refute those words.

He didn’t doubt his eyes. Although he wasn’t able to see him perform the whole technique, it wasn’t just about being able to recognize him from his skills. Tang Bo knew Chung Myung best, whether it was his body or his soul. He recognized the distinct look of the plum blossoms he created, the way he sheathed his sword, and even the way he stood on top of that iron carriage like he was already a king. 

Tang Bo didn’t doubt his ability to recognize his hyung at all.

But he needed to see him again. He needed to meet him, and ask him if he knew who he was 100 years ago. 

If he was truly the Chung Myung he knew.

Chapter Text

Mount Hua Sect’s disciples were training hard that morning.

…Actually, training ‘hard’ was an understatement. A complete understatement. Even adding ‘very’ before it would not be able to convey how terrifyingly arduously they were training. 

But in fact, this was all a very normal day for the disciples of Mount Hua! Under Chung Myung’s control— ahem — supervision , they finished their daily early morning climb on Mount Hua. 

And as always, the disciples came out of training looking like they had been run over multiple times by iron wagons filled to the brim with all the gold and money Chung Myung had ever scammed out of in his entire life.

Which was always why they looked like they were close to dying.

Baek Cheon was the first to step back into the training grounds of Mount Hua after Chung Myung, who'd already settled comfortably on a stone ledge and was downing another bottle of alcohol. 

Baek Cheon groaned before he collapsed to the ground,

‘We’ve gotten a lot stronger, but why does it feel like training doesn’t get any less harder…?’

"...."

‘And that bastard is still as faultlessly unscathed as ever.’

After a brief moment of internal griefing and cursing Chung Myung, the other disciples of Mount Hua arrived slowly behind him; from a few of the second-class disciples to the swords of Mount Hua and Hae Yeon, they all dragged their worn-out selves to the sect—the finish line.

“Oh god… I’m going to die… I-I’m going to die…!”

“Fuck… shit…. Hahh…. fuck….. Fucking shit…..”

"Help me… help me……!"

“Ahh— w-wait, don’t touch me I think I’m going to throw uu—!”

“Shut up! If your mouths still have the strength to complain then you should still have the strength to train! Get up! We don’t have any time to waste!”

‘B-bastard…!!"

At Chung Myung’s scolding, everyone lamented their decision to gripe about the difficulty of his new training methods. However, they didn’t even have time for regrets as Chung Myung began kicking their collapsed bodies to get them back up. Now, this wasn't just simple, motivating kicks (when was it ever…?), but it was full-on, terrifyingly powerful punches except with feet; capable of breaking bones if one wasn’t careful to control their strength.

Of course, Chung Myung’s controlled strength was still capable of breaking their bones.

“Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Stop, stop, stop!!!!”

Unfortunately, Jo Gul was the victim of Chung Myung’s daily (hourly) beatings this time. Although everyone felt sorry for him, they were also grateful they weren’t him. 

All the disciples continued to arrive one by one, either gasping for water or lying dead on the ground. Tang Soso arrived a little later than a lot of them.

“Urghh… I can’t take this… I can’t take this anymore…!”

Tang Soso gritted her teeth as she finally stepped onto the sect grounds and then quickly collapsed. However, just as quickly as she’d collapsed, Chung Myung appeared right beside her to berate her.

“Hey, you! Why did you fall behind all of your sahyungs?! What was the point of bringing you along to Chengdu if you weren’t going to get stronger, huh? Get up! All of you must have been slacking off while we were gone, haven’t you!"

Chung Myung began, looking at his sahyungs around him. Each and every one of them avoided eye contact with Chung Myung, trying to get the lesser of all of his evils.

“But you have no excuses, Tang Soso. Really…! If your ancestors had seen this scene— ahh, seriously!!”

‘There he goes again…’ 

It was that time with another one of Chung Myung’s strange musings. The disciples had all learned not to question these moments of Chung Myung acting strangely; unless they wanted a beating, of course. At this point, this scene was typical for the disciples.

Chung Myung was just about to continue when he was suddenly interrupted by Un Geom, who appeared and called out for him.

“Chung Myung! The sect leader is asking for you by the main gate, you have visitors!” 

Chung Myung stopped his actions and looked puzzledly at Un Geom. 

“Huh? Who is it?”

“Apparently they’re from the Tang Family, someone wants to meet you.”

“Eh? The Tang Family? They better have some goods for me if they insist on meeting me so suddenly…" He muttered that last part quietly to himself. It’s only been a few days since they left Sichuan, and it was now very early in the morning. What could be the concern if they’d set off so early for Mount Hua? 

‘Someone wants to meet me…?’

To Chung Myung, the current situation all seemed very strange and sudden. It also coincidentally seemed like a great opportunity to receive some great alcohol for absolutely free. 

And so, unfortunately , he seemed to have no other choice but to go and meet them. 

After humming positively in response, Chung Myung began to follow Un Geom back to the main gate— but not without turning around sharply to glare at his sahyungs first.

'Don't. slack off while I’m gone.'

—was what his glare communicated. His victims gulped whatever saliva was still in their throats from the threat. And when he finally turned his back on them, they all breathed out in relief.

'He's gone… The devil's gone…'

'It’s not our fault his training methods have become harder! This is unbearable!’

‘I think I might die at this rate.’

Some of them internally complained, but most of them didn’t even have the energy to think pettily. A few of them had even begun to take a nap on the comfortable ground. Nevertheless, they were all glad the mad dog’s attention had been put on something other than them.

However, beyond their better judgment, the disciples who were still capable of getting on their legs—which included Baek Cheon, Jo Gul, Yoon Jong, Yu Iseol, Hae Yeon, and somehow Tang Soso—followed Chung Myung to the main gate, also curious about the sudden guest who came specifically for Chung Myung. 

“Soso, you don’t suppose you have any idea who it is, do you?”

“Hm? Oh, no. When we went to Sichuan and everyone saw me again, they didn’t seem to even want to step a foot in Mount Hua! I doubt it’d be anyone who’d want to stay, they’re probably just going to meet Chung Myung sahyung and leave.”

“Amitabha… If they are trying to join Mount Hua, I will do everything in my power to save them.”

“Thanks, Hae Yeon. If they see that even a monk of Shaolin advices them not to join, I’m sure they’ll get the hint.”

“Well… Just in case it’s one of my siblings from the family or something, I should be there too!”

They all walked—a bit slowly and carefully out of care for their overworked bodies—in pursuit of Un Geom and Chung Myung, who had already reached the main division of the sect. In the distance by the main gate, they could see the sect leaders, the elders, and two unfamiliar standing figures in front of them. 

The visitors had their backs faced towards the disciples, but they could easily make out their overall appearances. Their attire seemed luxurious from the look alone; their shoes shone in the light despite having travelled above the heights of Mount Hua. Although their hair seemed to have been fixed up in a rush, the ornaments adorning their chestnut locks glimmered in all of its luxuriousness. Above all, the deep green robes they wore were of a very familiar design to the disciples, along with its luscious, radiant pigment, the signature shade of one of the Five Great Families.

Anyone on Mount Hua could tell that they were of the Tang Family. Even if a number of disciples had never met a member of the clan before, the magnificent shade of pine green would lead anyone to guess correctly.

But the disciples were used to the sight. In fact, they only grew more curious after seeing their appearances.

“Huh, I wonder if they encountered any robbers on the way here. You know, with how obvious they’re being with their identities. And they don’t seem like hard targets at all~”

“....”

Everyone stared at Jo Gul in disbelief.

“...Jo Gul. Have you actually become a bandit? Are you one of Chung Myung’s kind now?”

“........”

"...Anyway, they seem quite young. I wonder if they might be here to join Mount Hua…"

At Baek Cheon's words, the group simultaneously looked at Hae Yeon's worn and worried figure muttering.

"I hope they don't make the same mistake as me. Amitabha… They look far too young to have their hopes and dreams all crushed by that….."

'... Devil .'

They all thought at the same time. And again, the group turned to look back at Chung Myung, who had arrived in front of the two Tang Family members and the elders. The group had also swiftly arrived, though putting a bit more space between them and Chung Myung. It was like they were in a triangle formation, with the visitors and Mount Hua’s elders and Mad Dog on the two ends facing each other, and the unrelated group of disciples and Hae Yeon on the top.

Chung Myung gave them a bothered glance, but continued to put his two fists together and bow, shouting:

"This third-rate disciple, Chung Myung greets the sect leader and elders!"

Hyung Jong’s attention immediately diverted to Chung Myung. He smiled merrily and beckoned over to the boy. 

"Ah, this is Chung Myung, and those beside him are Mount Hua’s disciples and a monk from Shaolin who’s come to stay with us for a while— they just came fresh from training, so please excuse their slightly dirty appearances… Chung Myung, these two young men are from the Tang Family. They've come to meet you!"

For some reason, Hyun Jong seemed to be in a pleasant mood. Chung Myung walked closer until he was beside Hyun Jong, but he kept his eye on the two strangers: 

One seemed to be around his age. He was a bit taller than him, with broad shoulders and short chestnut hair. His deep-set emerald eyes were framed by his rough eyebrows, and was accompanied by the fearsome look on his good-looking face. 

But despite his gruff appearance, he seemed to carry himself with humble grace, bowing shortly to Chung Myung when he seized him up. 

On the other hand, the boy beside him seemed to be the complete opposite of his confident figure. The boy’s head was bowed low, and his shoulder-length dark brown hair draped his face, covering it from anyone’s view. He was shorter than Chung Myung and appeared to be younger, displaying an apprehensive nature as he fidgeted and avoided Chung Myung’s gaze.

Yoon Jong whispered to the disciples, “Hm? Why does this feel a bit awkward…?” 

Tang Soso nodded, whispering back, “Right? Should I go and talk to them myself?”

Baek Cheon however, immediately shook his head in response to her suggestion. 

“No, no. We shouldn’t meddle in the sect’s affairs. They aren’t here for us, anyway.” He concluded, receiving a quiet affirmation from the others.

“Tang Beom of the Tang Family greets the Divine Dragon of Mount Hua!”

The older boy—Tang Beom addressed, his strong voice reaching the keen ears of the disciples. Chung Myung stared at him and huffed loftily, and then finally opened his mouth. The disciples hoped that nothing stupid would come out of that mouth.

"Alright, let's cut the chit-chat. What are you people here for?"

'...That stupid mouth .'

They all groaned. The elders of Mount Hua had similar reactions as well, telling from the exasperated expressions on their faces.

Tang Beom visibly twitched at Chung Myung's arrogant attitude but tried not to show any further conflicted emotion. Instead, as Chung Myung asked, Tang Beom looked and gestured to the boy beside him, pushing him slightly with his arm as if to tell him to stop dandering and looking stupid. However, the boy continued to stand still with his head bowed, as if he were completely frozen.

“.....Huhuhu, you have come from quite a distance, and at such a fast rate! You must be dying to meet your old friend again as much as you are exhausted,” Hyung Jong tried to reason, but he looked at the younger boy worriedly.

“Well, young man… this is Chung Myung. He is the person you are looking for, is he not?"

“........”

An uncomfortable silence spread throughout the group and the onlookers. Everyone awkwardly glanced at each other as they waited for an actual response from the boy. 

The disciples shuffled on their feet, giving each other looks. They were dying to say something to try and smoothen the atmosphere, but they felt that they were in no position to do so. Chung Myung himself seemed extremely bothered, and they knew that if nothing was going to happen in the next second or two, he was going to burst.

On the other hand, the sect leader and the elders were extremely puzzled. Just earlier, the young man was very lively, seeming nervous yet excited to see Chung Myung. But now that Chung Myung was here, his demeanour had completely changed! 

' Maybe it's from surprise? ' 

They all thought. Perhaps the Chung Myung here now wasn't the same Chung Myung he was when they had met? Chung Myung most certainly wasn't on his best behaviour today, being all moody and bothered. However, it wasn’t much different from the other days, just that he was showing it more obviously in front of his elders this time. These kids are getting bolder and bolder with each passing day…

The disciples were watching Chung Myung with anxious expressions on their faces. They all silently prayed and hoped to whatever god out there that’s been ignoring their previous prayers to please, please grant Chung Myung some patience.

But suddenly, as if his patience had completely lost, Tang Beom gave the younger boy a quick yet deadly jab to the side with his elbow. The boy jerked sideways with a hurt groan and finally— finally looked up. 

And for a split second, the world changed.

The disciples all turned and watched this: The boy’s face looking up was a canvas, smeared and painted with all the beauties of the universe and kept inside the shape of a human face. He seemed almost as delicate as a rose, and as beautiful as one. 

And it was breathtaking; the harmony of all of his features, the seemingly perfect strands of hair dancing on the curve of his cheeks. And it was glorious; the tall slide of his nose bridge, the slip of his scarlet-stained lips. It was the gentle curve of his mouth, every single plane and angle of skin, even the graceful arch of his dark, unruly brows.

His beauty was soul-binding. 

It felt as if they couldn’t breathe.

The boy’s eyes glanced upwards, and they took notice of the fact they were a deeper green than his clothes. They were almost beige; tinted with a slight yellow but still so intensely emerald that the disciples doubted their ability to see. 

But his flawless looks and graciously-given features weren’t what caught their souls the most. 

It was the look in his eyes, the impression of his irises. It was as if someone had carved their blood-filled experiences into his eyes and made their way into his soul. They were lucent, strange yet marvellous, too. Anyone could peer into his eyes and see: curiosity, fear, anxiety, and excitement; all from one look into those green, green irises.

The disciples didn’t understand how something from Earth could rival even the moon. They had met their fair share of good-looking people in the world, but this boy was different. His beauty wasn't the kind that would make anyone pause and stare, but he looked like he was from somewhere they could never reach—a different world. The sight hit the disciples like an iron wagon.

…And yet, it was not their breaths that stuttered, but Chung Myung's.

The disciples pulled their gazes away from the boy and looked back to the elders and the mad dog of Mount Hua. The elders seemed completely unperturbed, but Chung Myung was an entirely different matter. 

Nobody could tell what expression Chung Myung had before that moment, but all they knew was that it fell— and was replaced by an expression that was even harder to describe by the onlookers of the scene.

And they knew it was not because of the delicacy of the boy’s face or his otherworldly beauty. It was not his mind-shattering charm, nor was it the hypnotizing look in his eyes when he met Chung Myung’s gaze.

It felt as if Chung Myung was looking at someone beyond the body of the boy. And that person was staring back at him with the same familiarity. 

“Tang Bo of the Tang Family greets Chung Myung, the Divine Dragon!”

He shouted, a slight tremble in his voice, but he still delivered with determination. His voice wasn’t as deep as his companion, but it still carried the great essence of a man from one of the Five Great Families. The tone of his voice was pleasant to the ears of the disciples, carried with the lilt and cadence in his speech.

But contrary to their pleased reactions, Chung Myung could not be any more different from them. There was a deep-set frown on his face, but at the same time, he stared at the boy with so much fear and disbelief engrained into his expression and his plum-coloured eyes—as if the boy was a terrible thing to be existing in this world. 

His lips were strained tight into a thin line and seemed to be trembling . The disciples were confused by his strange reactions to the boy, but with a quivering breath, Chung Myung slowly asked.

“You… said you knew me…?”

Tang Bo avoided his gaze, looking instead at the grainy ground. His own reddened lips were wobbling. His head hung even lower, and his umber-painted locks hid his tear-glistening eyes from their audience.

 A still silence hung in the air before a whisper:

“...Taoist Hyung.”

The disciples almost had to strain their ears to hear it. They didn’t even know the weight of those two words to a certain disciple of Mount Hua—until Tang Bo was suddenly ambushed.

Chung Myung had run out of his spot and crashed against the smaller boy; his strong arms encircling his body and his face hiding in the crook of his neck. Tang Bo made a brief noise of surprise before he surrendered to his embrace, allowing them both to fall to the ground.

And everyone there gasped in surprise at his actions: the sect leader, the elders, the disciples and Hae Yeon, and even the boy’s older brother.

“Bo-yah?!”

“C-Chung Myung?!”

But as if deaf to their dumbfounded shouts, Tang Bo surrounded Chung Myung’s neck with his own thin, trembling hands. And even though they were on the ground, Chung Myung clasped to Tang Bo and nestled his face even deeper in his skin. 

Tang Bo felt it clearly: the trembling of Chung Myung’s hand cradling his head, the other almost hesitating to press harder around his waist; as if afraid that he could break him. Tang Bo could feel his shaky breath puffing against his neck and noticed his messily tied ponytail trailing across the ground—not expecting the shade of an emerald ribbon hanging from the base of his hair.

And as if no one else was there, Chung Myung whispered to Tang Bo, to him and him alone.

"Is it… really you…?"

And Tang Bo's expression crumbled, and his arms hugged Chung Myung's neck even tighter than before. No longer able to keep himself from crying, he whispered back.

"Hyung…"

Uncontrollable tears flowed down his blood-warm cheeks.

He succumbed to the larger body towering over him, cradling him like he was the most precious thing he had ever held in his life. He closed his eyes, but this time, he would open them again.

And he couldn't feel it, but someone else's tears were slowly soaking his outer robe, darkening the colour of the ivy green of the fabric.

He couldn't see it, but the older man in his arms was being broken apart once again. Only this time, he could slowly be fixed.

And although he may not be able to see his face, Tang Bo knew it was him. 

He was the man he was looking for, the man he had always been following. 

"How… What the…"

Chung Myung whispered in disbelief. He had a multitude of questions to ask, but before he could finish asking even one, the voices outside interrupted him.

"Chung Myung, what is wrong with you!?" The disciples shouted, rushing to get the eighteen-year-old man off the fifteen-year-old boy. But Chung Myung seemed to have suddenly become a ton heavier. He stayed stuck—as if attached to the boy, refusing to be pulled away.

The disciples, over their initial shellshock, tried their hardest to separate the two. They were worried that this was a part of some immoral plan Chung Myung was scheming. 

They didn’t notice that Chung Myung had tears running down his face, barely able to keep his body from trembling.

“What is with this guy!?

“Has he gone insane?! Sahyung, help me get him away!”

“You’re going to suffocate him, you damn bastard!”

The disciples exclaimed, Hae Yeon coming in to help them.

But despite the commotion that mostly the disciples caused, it was only Yoon Jong who stayed back and didn’t try to reprimand Chung Myung. 

Yoon Jong stood in his place, and his mind went back to the expression on Chung Myung’s face when the boy revealed who he was. Yoon Jong was the one who had gotten the best view of Chung Myung at that moment of his surprise, and in his perspective, it didn’t look like Chung Myung was trying to scheme something at all. In fact, instead of his usual sly plotting face—

He looked like he was about to cry.

Even the elders had come over to help mitigate the situation. Tang Beom ran up to them, half-worried about his brother and half-cursing Chung Myung. Despite now being surrounded by practically a crowd, the two boys on the ground still refused to move away from each other, clutching to each other like a lifeline.

And when Tang Beom saw them, he exclaimed.

 “...Bo-yah, a– are you crying?” 

Scrunching his tear-stained face, a loud sob came out of Tang Bo’s mouth in response, “N-no!”

Only then did the disciples begin to back off a little, recognizing that the situation was perhaps not as they assumed.

“U-um, what’s happening?”

“Why isn’t this bastard moving? Did he pass out?”

“Amitabha… What is this situation…?”

Jo Gul, Baek Cheon, and Hae Yeon uttered puzzeldly. Tang Soso stared at Tang Bo’s pathetically sobbing self and looked back up at Tang Beom. 

“Hey… Do you know what their relationship is…?”

Tang Beom stayed silent for a moment, staring at Chung Myung and Tang Bo with a conflicted expression before sighing.

“...I don’t know. Tang Bo told me they knew each other, but…”

“?”

“...I’ve never met the Divine Dragon before. At least, not until the disciples of Mount Hua and the lord of the Beast Palace came to visit. We only came here on a whim on my brother’s behalf. I don’t know…”

His words had quickly run out. Although Tang Beom was older than Tang Bo, he wasn’t that better at speaking than him. In fact, Tang Bo had always been the smartest of the two. 

The younger brother had always been more interested in knowledge and the art of medicine, while Tang Beom was more interested in helping out their mother and learning more practical skills with his hands. He had learned a bit of martial arts in the past, but it was nothing compared to the other sons in the clan, or the disciples of the Mount Hua sect. 

Ever since his brother woke up from his days-long slumber, he’d been acting strangely. He was suddenly interested in the Mount Hua sect after he woke up and saw their sword technique, and then he suddenly decided that he didn’t want to learn medicine, and then suddenly, he has past ties with the Divine Dragon— ties that allowed them to act like this when they met each other.

Tang Beom had always been a plain, direct man who cared for his family the most. But now, he questioned their purpose.

‘What are we even doing here…?’

“....”

Meanwhile, Tang Bo had completely laid flat on the ground, his head still being cradled by Chung Myung’s hand but he was staring into the sky; the last of his tears staining his sky-filled vision. 

He breathed heavily, but now without a weight on his shoulders. Of course, it was now the weight of an 18-year-old man on top of his body, but he still felt freer than he had ever been in this life.

He hugged Chung Myung tight, still unbelieving of the events that had transpired. Just like his hyung, he had tens of questions circling around his head: how he came back to life one hundred years into the future, how he didn’t just come back to life, but had gone into the body of a fifteen-year-old boy with the same name as him; and how his hyung had also come to life, probably before him as well. 

But for now, he wanted to savour the warmth of his hyung’s embrace. He knew that their situation was different now, but he couldn’t help but feel that this could still be the last time they’d ever touch; the remnants of the war still burning alive in his mind.

And right now, his hyung was breathing alive against his body. Right now, even the feeling of his breath felt overwhelming. It reminded Tang Bo that life still existed in the world, that the war that took place a hundred years ago was over, that he was living and breathing in his hyung’s arms.

“...Okay Chung Myung, let’s stop this. Get off the poor boy, he’s crying because you’re suffocating him!”

One of Mount Hua’s disciples said, almost provocatively. Unfortunately for him, Chung Myung was still pretending to be dead in his arms—as obvious as his loud puffs of breath were to Tang Bo.

The disciple was promptly ignored, by both boys. Quite frankly, it almost felt as if they could take a nap right then and there; it felt like all the willpower and strength they had ever spent in both their lives were hitting them now. 

“....”

Before Tang Bo could savour the moment of their reunion any further, however, the footsteps of multiple people came closer and closer to Tang Bo’s ears, until the elders of Mount Hua came into the corner of his vision. 

“Chung Myung… Young man… What is this situation?”

He recognized that it was Mount Hua’s sect leader, Hyung Jong who spoke up. In response to his call, Chung Myung stayed dead as a fish on land. It was as if he was trying to block out every other noise outside of his and Tang Bo’s little bubble. 

“Chung Myung! This is completely unacceptable behaviour! What would your ancestors think if they’d seen this scene?!”

“....”

Unknowingly, Tang Bo’s eyes met one of the elder’s, but he quickly looked away.

And Tang Bo continued to ignore all the eyes on him by staring back up at the sky.

His tears had already all dried up, and only now was he realizing the awkwardness of the situation and position they were in. His cheeks blushed a faint red as his hold around Chung Myung’s neck faltered. There were almost ten pairs of eyes on them, and Tang Bo considered the overall situation.

This reunion may have felt long-awaited for Tang Bo, but it was definitely too unexpected for the disciples and elders of Mount Hua— no matter how much Tang Bo had talked about how he and Chung Myung were the greatest of friends to the elders beforehand.

Well… They were more than friends but, they didn’t need to know that yet.

Tang Bo was ready to get up and finally remove Chung Myung’s body from his. Although he’d still suffer from embarrassment, he needed to save even the last bit of his pride…

But before Tang Bo could even make a move, Chung Myung abruptly removed himself from him and stood up before he could. Chung Myung's body faced the worried disciples and elders, but he refused to look them in the eye and kept his eyes firmly on the ground.

And as quickly as he got up, he announced loudly:

“I’m leaving!”

He began to swiftly make his exit; but before leaving the scene, he paused and turned back to look at Tang Bo’s stunned self.

“And you… stay here for a while!”

He declared, leaving poor Tang Bo alone to deal with a group of information-hungry hyenas.

Chapter Text

Chung Myung didn't want to believe it.

…Actually, scratch that. He was desperate for it to be true. 

The moment his eyes locked onto the youthful gaze of “Tang Bo”, the world felt as if it was frozen. 

His heart seemed to stop, his movement suddenly faltered, and his breath was taken away by the cold breeze of the early morning. But his brain didn't even have the chance to process the sight before his heart began to beat again, and it felt like there was something inexplicable drawing him towards the boy. 

Chung Myung couldn't describe it. He knew that that was his face—his gorgeous ivy eyes, his plush and upturned lips—his otherworldly beauty. The logical part of himself told him that it was just a boy from the family who miraculously inherited his looks, but at the same time, it felt as though there was something besides himself inside of him that knew it was him .

And despite his conflicting, turbulent thoughts and seemingly uncontrollable body, he just barely managed to rip the words out of his throat:

“You… said you knew me…?”

If it were anyone else… If it were literally anyone else, he would have called bullshit. 

If it hadn’t been a boy who was the same age as Chung Myung when he first woke up in this body, if it hadn’t been a boy who had the tantalizing eyes, the never-fading furrow between his brows, the same stance and bearing of his own body…

Then he wouldn’t have acted like this—like he was surprised to see a boy he’d never met before—like he was looking at someone else.

Because he was dead. He IS fucking dead, he’s always been dead! It’s been over a hundred years since he died!

It’s been a hundred years and yet he still can’t seem to forget him. 

Perhaps fate was trying to pull his strings. Trying to punish him, torment him, because he dared to reincarnate with the memories of his past life. 

Because this kid wasn’t Tang Bo; he wasn’t the Tang Bo who died in his arms so many years ago. He wasn’t Tang Bo, the only person he’d trusted to always be there when he looked back while on the battlefield. This kid didn’t know him—this kid didn’t know him like he knew his ancestor. 

His entire body, all of his organs, every cell in his brain was telling him no .

And yet, why did his soul ache at the sight of him?

The Mount Hua disciples and Tang family members stood still, letting the silence embrace the air as they waited for something— anything to come out of the child in front of them. But the boy avoided their gazes, eyes stuck on the dirt as his lips trembled with the weight of his words. He breathed, in and out. He opened his lips, anything to come past coming out only in a whisper. 

And from the mouth of the fifteen-year-old boy, the only words he ever wanted to hear again.

“...Taoist Hyung.”

And the world was thawed. 

The trees began to sway once more, the sun continued to rise amongst the clouds, and Chung Myung’s eyes became burdened with uncontrollably heavy tears. 

And then Chung Myung tackled him.

. . .

Almost a week before…

“...What? You want to go to Mount Hua!?”

Tang Bo’s apparently uncle exclaimed at his sudden declaration. 

After learning about the situation of the current world and Mount Hua, Tang Bo went back outside the residence to find this man lying on a beach chair and eating a bowl of hard candies.

And after being called ‘his wonderful nephew,’ Tang Bo decided that this man could be someone he turned to about travelling to Mount Hua. He’d seen this man alongside many others amongst the group crowding outside the house earlier, so he had no reason to doubt that he was one of his closer family members.

Tang Bo responded to the uncle’s loud outburst with words sweetly laden with a childishness completely unlike his ancestral age.

“Yes uncle, I really want to! Can I?”

At Tang Bo’s words, the uncle faltered and sat back down on his beach chair, scratching his head, “Well, kid… you better ask your mother about that. But are you really sure you want to go? This better not just be a whim because of the sight we saw earlier!"

"No, uncle!"

The middle-aged man sighed, scratching his stubble this time.

“Look, my nephew. I don’t know why you’ve suddenly taken an interest in the Mount Hua sect, but I’ll have you know… Those plum blossoms may have been beautiful then, but they can also cause harm to people. And it’s not just whoever you’re pointing your sword at, but yourself too!"

"..."

"Anyway, I thought you didn’t like the idea of training with swords and such. Didn’t you want to learn our family’s medicine techniques from your grandmother?”

‘No thanks!’

“Yes. And, I don’t want to learn their sword techniques, I just want to visit. But uncle, do you know where my mother is?”

After being pointed into the house, Tang Bo entered and explored the residence—noticing a few noticeable details he didn’t catch when he first woke up. 

The interior somehow seemed… sleeker , modest and plain when he compared it to the interior of residences in his previous life. There were some designs he wasn’t familiar with, and a multitude of new materials used in the construction of the house. Tang Bo wasn’t surprised. Of course, architecture had advanced in the years he was gone.

He ran his hand across the smooth, polished surfaces of tables and doorways, marvelling at the fundamental yet luxurious craftsmanship.

However, his thoughts were cut short when he caught sight of an older woman peeling fruits in the farthest room in the house. Tang Bo briefly wondered why the kitchen and dining room were so far away from the front door, but nevertheless.

He pattered silently across the stained floors, hoping not to disturb the humming woman as he passed the corridor. He'd never seen her before, which matched up with a statement he'd previously heard from his older brother:

“Mother’s taking a nap so don’t disturb her. You can go and see her later when she wakes up— if you'll still be awake by then,” his brother ended spookily.

The flashback made Tang Bo want to roll his eyes. 

As he slowly approached the woman; newly named Mother , he mentally prepared himself to do some baby talking and naviety acting. 

He couldn’t act like a seventy-something-year-old man in a fifteen-year-old's body, of course! 

“...Mother.”

Their mother turned back at the call, seemingly startled but then thrilled once she caught sight of him. She exclaimed as she stood up,

“Oh, Bo, my beautiful boy—you’re finally awake!” She immediately rushed over to his side, cupping his face with her soft, warm hands and pecking the top of Tang Bo’s head. “Did you wake up just this morning? Are you feeling sleepy at all? I heard that the Mount Hua Sect's disciples put on a show before they left, were you there to see it?”

“Yes, well, uh–” 

“Do you know what day it is today? Oh dear, I didn't tell you about the incredible things that have happened in the past few days—that extremely talented disciple of Mount Hua, he won against the Family Head!”

“Huh?”

…Well, that was a first. Assuming that this extremely talented disciple was his hyung, then he would have no suspicions. 

His mother continued to talk about the event conspiring between the Mount Hua disciples, the family head, and elders, and Tang Bo nodded along, gathering his thoughts.

It should have been no challenge for his Taoist hyung-nim to defeat any family head, not excluding his own. Although the age he did it was certainly surprising, Tang Bo wholeheartedly believed that his Taoist hyung-nim was just that good.

But then again, when he looks at it from an elder’s view…

What the hell?! The Sichuan Tang Family Head lost to a child ? A third-rate disciple? They didn't even just lose, but they tainted the family’s reputation due to the first-in-line son's disgraceful actions after realizing their inevitable defeat! What has happened to this family?! He should have lived at least twenty years longer to teach the next generation how to teach the next generation! This news was absolutely disgraceful !

‘....’

There was no doubt that if the child who defeated the family head wasn't his hyung-nim, then those would be his exact thoughts.

Mother coughed, “Anyway, I keep rambling. Have you even eaten yet? Come, come, you’ve barely eaten these past few days—I need to put some fat on my beautiful baby boy!” She wrapped her arm warmly around Tang Bo’s shoulder, guiding him to the dining table.

Tang Bo smiled awkwardly as he was led to sit down, finding her words a bit funny as nobody had ever spoken to him like that in his previous life, especially at his age. His mother sat him down and then pulled out multiple dishes from the kitchen. It seemed that the family had eaten before Tang Bo had even woken up.

A few of the dishes she brought to the table were slightly familiar to Tang Bo, but most of them were completely new to him. Well, it’s not like he expected the food to be exactly the same after a hundred years—at least they still made some of the old recipes.

“Here, this is your favourite, right? You’re lucky you woke up right when I made it for lunch! Ah, we also have some leftover pastries if you want some. Eat as much as you like, Bo-yah.”

Tang Bo’s mother filled the table with food and then pulled a chair out beside him, continuing to peel her fruits with a small blade. In the meanwhile, Tang Bo slowly began to reach out for the many plates served in front of him. He actually didn’t feel hungry at all before a feast suddenly appeared in front of him, but the moment he took his first bite of a still slightly warm piece of bread, it was as if some sort of monster inside of his appetite had awoken.

‘Ugh, why am I so hungry…?’

He didn’t even mind the doting eyes watching him gobble up each plate one by one. Tang Bo was sure that this kid wasn’t eating right even before he went into that deep sleep phase everybody talked about. He did feel it when he woke up, that this body was extremely thin.

Anyway, it was almost comforting, having a caring figure accompany Tang Bo at the unfamiliar table. Halfway through Tang Bo’s ravenous feast, their mother went outside to give the other family members the bowls of fruit she had prepared. And when she came back, her brows shot up after seeing the empty plates in front of Tang Bo, who was already cleaning up his dishes after himself. She exclaimed,

“Wow—you ate everything? I’m so proud of you, baby! You can finally finish your meals!”

That….. didn’t make Tang Bo feel good at all. And it made him really think of what this body’s situation was like before he came. He laughed awkwardly as the mother came closer and cleaned up Tang Bo’s dishes for him, affectionately stroking the top of his head before going into the kitchen. 

After being told to just sit down and rest, he let his mother do all the dishwork as he pondered at the table.

‘Now… How should I say it…?’

He didn’t forget his purpose of coming here. While he did get his stomach filled and was very satisfied from that late lunch, he was still going to have to mention his plan to visit the Mount Hua Sect. From his mother’s actions, it certainly seemed that she loved and cared for this body, and so he was concerned that telling his mother his intentions would make her worry—or even worse, forbid him from leaving.

But, despite all of these possible roadblocks, Tang Bo knew what he had to do. In his past life and his current life, his goal has always been to take care of his clan. But in this unusual situation, it was dire for him to reconnect with his Taoist Hyung. He was given an incredible advantage; having the knowledge and memories from his past life. He would surely surpass his previous self and bring his family to greater heights, something he previously wasn’t able to do even as an elder of the family.

But after watching the members of this body’s immediate family, his resolve almost seemed to waver. This family and their members were all so close-knit, caring and loving and strong even when a great tragedy was seeming to fall on the youngest member of the family. 

He didn’t know their situation, if this body’s father was still in the picture; and he had absolutely no idea what to do when everyone showered him with worries and affection after the parade. He was afraid that he’d act too off character, or too unfamiliar with people who obviously knew this body since his very birth.

And it hurt Tang Bo’s heart a little bit, to think that a bizarre situation such as this would separate a boy and his loving family, probably for as long as Tang Bo would live—which is, a lifetime.

…However, it wasn’t his decision to reincarnate into this body. Ever since the moment he opened his eyes once more, when his body was plunged into the deepest of depths a hundred years ago, the Dark Saint of the Tang Family was revived.

And no matter what life or body he was in, he was always going to be Tang Bo, the Dark Saint of the Tang Family. He would never cease being that person. 

And so, he simply blurted it out.

“Mother, I want to go to the Mount Hua sect.”

Tang Bo had turned his chair to face her and caught his mother frozen. Her eyes slowly dazed and glanced up to meet Tang Bo’s eyes.

Almost forbiddenly, she muttered.

“...Why?”

Tang Bo took a deep breath, “I think, the reason why my body’s become like this lies in the mountains of the Mount Hua Sect.”

His mother paused (not that she ever moved), and looked down at the dirty plates and dishes in her hands. Then, she promptly put them down and looked at Tang Bo again.

“No.”

“...Huh?”

“No, Bo-yah. You cannot.”

“...”

This was going to be harder than Tang Bo expected.

“Can I at least know why…?”

His mother began to put the dishes into a bucket of water inside the sink and answered, “Simple. Why would you? You already have enough here. You have me, your brother, your uncles and aunts and grandparents, and you’re a son of the Tang Family!” She took a deep breath and looked at him again, “If you want to learn martial arts, then learn it from here! You may not be taught the most vital skills because you’re not a direct son, but it’s not like you’ve ever wanted to be a martial artist, so just stay with your family; why would you need to leave us?”

“It’s not that I want to leave you—!"

She dipped the last dish into the water harshly and stressed, “Even so! You’ve been waking up and then falling asleep for hours at a time this past week, I don’t ever get to see you with your eyes open anymore! You can’t even walk across the street straight, and you want to go to Mount Hua? You may as well kill me! Then maybe I can spend some more time with you when we’re both asleep!”

“...”

“...You just, can’t. Okay? Maybe in a few years when you’re older and healthier, but not now. You need to heal and rest and find out what on Earth is wrong with you that’s making you fall asleep for so long. Your condition is too unstable for travel!”

“But I’m still awake now… And I feel good, really good! I don’t feel sick at all!”

It was true. Tang Bo felt nothing wrong with this— his body. He didn’t feel even a tiny bit sleepy. 

However, it seemed that this wasn’t going to change her mind.

“No, Tang Bo. The answer is no. Now go back to your room and go sle— no, go play with your brother or something!”

Tang Bo frowned. He was lucky enough that he had been reincarnated into the world again after a century, but he couldn’t waste any more time.

But, despite that, he couldn’t even try to retaliate before the boy’s mother interrupted his attempted retort and sent him to his room. He sighed as he walked through the hallway. 

‘I just need to see my taoist hyung-nim again.’

Chapter Text

Courtesy of his mom’s orders, Tang Bo is forced to stay shut in his room.

He lingers by the door, unsure of what to do next to try and change her mind, but eventually, the thought gets dropped. With a sigh, Tang Bo resigns to explore the room instead.

Tang Bo roams the unfamiliar-familiar bedroom; nothing he was truly accustomed to, but the only thing in this house he recognizes. He woke up in this very place, after all. 

He snooped around, not feeling the slightest hint of familiarity in all the personal trinkets and ornaments decorating the tables and shelves. There were colored diagrams of the human body on the walls, books for different remedies and tonics stacked and organized neatly on the desk— and there were a few that seemed to be this original body's works in progress. Knowing that there was no one to be embarrassed if he looked, Tang Bo took a peek at the pages.

Tang Bo hummed at the drawings and notes, ‘ Not bad ,’ he thought. This child seemed to be quite talented in the art of medicine already. How much more capable would he be if he explored his physical abilities? Tang Bo thought that this body’s core was quite doable. Despite the family’s overflowing worries and complaints, the body actually seemed very healthy from the inside!

‘ Perhaps all of those abnormalities were caused by me? ’ Tang Bo peered outside the lightly-stained windows, and watched the trees fall with the autumn season. It was a peaceful sight; so, so serene compared to any other sight he’d become used to before his death.

Transmigrating into this body felt like waking up from a second-long nap; it didn't feel as though a hundred years had passed, let alone a minute! Again, Tang Bo grew thoughtful, and with his thoughts, came unease. 

‘ This situation is truly… insane . I knew some people believed in rebirth—reincarnation, at most. But to come back to life one hundred years into the future , inside a brand new, already taken body, and with all of my past memories intact…?’ 

Tang Bo sat down on the unmade bed and tangled quilt, staring pensively at the beautifully painted mahogany walls. He then recalls the responses he had received when he was questioning everyone in his sight, after the plum blossoms had all fallen and he had snapped out of his reverie.

“What? The Mount Hua Sect? In the Ten Great Sects? Hahahaha! Well, they certainly seem to be on the right track to regaining that title, but not everyone believes that!”

“The war? You should know this, Bo-yah! It ended with a great defeat for the Demonic Sect and the fall of their great Heavenly Demon! Why are you bringing that up now?”

“Of course the Plum Blossom Sword Saint is dead! What is going on in that mind of yours, Bo-yah?”

Tang Bo’s unscarred hands clenched the unmade quilt beneath them, his chest unconsciously tightening and his breath slowly trembling. He blinks, regaining his mind for a moment; and then he methodically breaths in and out to calm himself.

‘No, whatever happened in the past doesn't matter anymore. I’m in the future— the present now, and I have goals that have been left unfinished.’

Heart steeled and resolve hardened, Tang Bo settled his body into a deep meditative pose and started to work on this child’s body.

. . . 

Knocking, along with a familiar voice came behind his door. 

“Bo-yah… I heard you upset Mom. What did you say to make her so sad?”

It was the voice of the same person who had rushed him to catch the Mount Hua’s disciples’ departure, this body's older brother. The boy's voice, unlike his previously loud and urging tone, was now quieter, unfamiliarly soft. Tang Bo opened his eyes from where he was sitting to stare at the door, then, with an exasperated sigh, he answered sulkily.

 “I didn’t say anything bad.”

There was a brief silence across the door, before the voice continued. “I heard you wanted to go to Mount Hua and meet the Divine Dragon. Is that true?”

“...”

When Tang Bo didn’t reply, the older boy suddenly flung the door open and barged into the room, startling Tang Bo who was “ laying defeatedly ” on his bed. He sat up, annoyed, “Hey! At least say something before you come in!”

His brother—Tang Beom, snorted. “No. Anyway, what were you telling Mom this time? I heard from uncle that you didn’t want to learn medicine anymore either. I can't believe that.”

Tang Beom sat on the foot of his bed, without any permission whatsoever. Tang Bo felt his temple pulse with annoyance, but he didn't waste any energy trying to get the boy off. This wasn't his own bed either, anyway . Instead, he snapped crankily as a true younger brother would.

“Nothing happened. And leave!”

Tang Bo hoped he was imitating this body’s personality well enough, though he didn't try to count on it. If he wasn’t, then he just hoped he would be able to chalk off the attitude as having been newly awoken from a very long nap, thus being much grumpier than usual.

Tang Beom, on the foot of his bed, huffed dismissively as he looked around the room. Tang Bo narrowed his eyes, wondering what his reason for being here was because he would really like to get back to meditating, please!

“...Were you really that enchanted by those flowers?”

Tang Bo looked back up at the boy, who had just made a very curious comment. Enchanted ? What made him say that?

“What makes you say that?”

Tang Beom kicked out his legs, leaning back on his arms. “Nothing; it’s just that, you absolutely despise any type of travel, or even just going out. Why on earth would you want to travel such a distance, and up a faithfully treacherous mountain, if not for that Mount Hua disciple's display of martial arts?”

“.....”

Tang Bo turned his eyes away, pointedly moving his gaze to the window. For a moment, he thought that Tang Beom was insinuating something else! A relieved sigh escaped from his nose before he replied curtly, “Not sure what you’re talking about.”

“.....Well, anyway. Are you really sure you want to go to Mount Hua?” Tang Beom pried, “This isn’t just some whim? You’re not gonna complain about your feet or back all the time on the way?” 

He was staring right at Tang Bo now, who seemed to be idly watching the falling leaves.

 “I’ll really kill you if I end up having to carry you up that damn mountain.”

Tang Bo’s eyes left the mid-autumn scene, and before he could stop himself, he replied with a steadfast voice as he looked back at Tang Beom: “It’s not a whim; out of everything you would have to worry about, that's the last.” 

The two Tang brothers continued this staring contest, with Tang Beom staring into Tang Bo’s soul and Tang Bo meeting his gaze with the same fervor. After a few moments of this, the older brother finally turned away and pulled himself up onto his feet, sighing. He patted the imaginary dust off his robes and without turning back, he voiced out.

“Well, then. I’ll try to persuade our mother as best as I can.”

It took a half-beat for Tang Bo to realize the implications of his words, but before he could reply, Tang Beom had already swiftly left and shut the door. 

“What?!”

……………

That was… sudden . 

Tang Bo stared at the place where Tang Beom had just been. After a few moments, he shook his head and blinked back at his twisted quilt. 

Ah… maybe he shouldn't have replied like that. Tang Bo hadn't yet conjured up a believable story for his desire to go to Mount Hua, and now he's saying that he was definitely sure— as if his decision seemed like anything but a whim from an outsider's view! Now the family was more likely to question his intentions, of the why's and how's and, ugh, just the thought of it made Tang Bo want to roll his tired eyes and go to sleep.

But, still.

Of all the things he thought he’d have to do to gain this body’s mother’s trust, he would have never guessed that it was to say ‘it’s not a whim’ to his older brother. An amused huff left Tang Bo's mouth as his thoughts wandered back to Tang Beom’s prying, and then back to his previous words, and distantly, he thinks that perhaps the boy wasn’t as rude and snotty as he had thought.

. . .

In his time, some hours passed with Tang Bo educating himself on the state of affairs in the world—or, more like Tang Bo attempted to draw conclusions from the myriad of infuriatingly twisted history books and pleasantly updated medicinal guides. 

There were books containing “common” information about metals and materials and flora and fauna (much of this information was extremely innovative and almost bizarre to Tang Bo!) and travel books containing guides to the most recognizable cities across the land; everything he had found was either neatly set across the two huge bookshelves in the room, in multiple stacks underneath the bed, or simply just laying around, left unfinished by the last owner of the books.

Tang Bo both lazed and studied at the same time, finding the new information extremely interesting but also very boring when the world was outside right before him! Not to mention, he had just died! Let a man breathe and discover the older world around him!

Though, technically he didn’t die recently . Over one hundred years ago, more or less, if everything he had heard and read was true. 

Ah, he was still having trouble processing all of this. 

However, Tang Bo was finally saved from his harrowing by a knock on the door. He sat up properly on his chair, closing his book and calling, “Come in!”

A woman—his mother came in first, with Tang Beom behind her, both wearing vaguely serious expressions that made Tang Bo believe he would have to turn his chair towards the centre of the room for this. 

His mother smiled at him as soon as she stepped in, “Bo-yah, how are you feeling?” 

She took a seat on the edge of his bed, seeing as there were no other places left to sit. Tang Beom stuck to standing instead, crossing his arms as he stared at Tang Bo with a vaguely challenging expression. 

Tang Bo answered honestly enough, “Good. I was reading a book, it’s good.” 

Tang Bo began sweating bullets as soon as he decided to extend his sentence after “reading a book”. He had no idea if the book was something the original Tang Bo always read or liked or, or what! So, he ended up choosing a very plain, awkward description that just repeated his previous sayings. Tang Bo smiled, trying not to strain it. 

Thankfully, his mother didn’t seem too caught up with his words. She nodded, saying, “That’s nice. Well, your brother and I have been talking.” 

‘Oh? Tang Beom, have you worked your magical words? Could it be…?’

His mother paused, then shook her head. 

“ Oh , my darling Bo. You have been so listless and idle these past few weeks, we thought you would never go back to being so bright and full of curiosity.” Her words were quickly becoming hesitant, but she looked at him headstrong. “But, now, if… if you’ve found Mount Hua’s flowers and martial arts so fascinating, then, there is nothing I can… I can’t stop you.”

“...Huh?”

His mother sighed, “I’ll let you go to the plum blossom sect… but only on all of my conditions.”

Tang Bo gaped internally, but externally, showed a strong face to reassure her mother that he was a very, very healthy and big boy. Uh, but this change was very sudden. What was this strange, pitless feeling in his chest? 

Nevermind! Well , it had only been a few hours since his mother had turned him down with a temper! What changed? Or more like… What did Tang Beom say? Tang Bo found himself gaping at his mother, then moving his gaze to Tang Beom. 

He said, “Ah, really?”

Almost helplessly, his mother sighed again. Her expression took one of almost deep lament as she looked at him, but Tang Bo couldn’t see past it. 

She then smiled at him, petting her own hand on her lap as she said, “It’s true that you’ve been having problems with sleeping, and it might not have stopped, but this is also the first time you’ve truly…”

‘Truly what?’

Tang Bo didn’t voice that thought, almost afraid of the answer. His mother shook her head. 

“Nevermind. I want you to enjoy this time, Bo-yah. Your family loves you, we all want the best for you. I will try to be in correspondence with the Mount Hua Sect, I’m sure they will welcome your arrival with our clan’s alliance. And, if you wish to go now, you may.” 

Tang Bo sat his butt on the hard wood of his chair, fairly shocked at this turn of events. 

However, a success was a success! Despite what… strange exchanges might have happened beyond his closed door. Tang Bo stared at his mother with great joy evident on his face, and inadvertently pulled his mother’s lips into a fond smile. 

“Now, here are my conditions.”

. . .

Right now, Tang Bo was inside a small yet comfortable carriage with Tang Beom leading the horse. 

During the past few hours, he and Tang Beom’s apparently-grandmother had returned, came with a lot of concerned pampering, with abundances of unprompted forehead kisses, and a bunch of gifts— but that's besides the point. Him and his family's goodbyes had been quite hectic, with a lot more hugging and wet eyes than he expected, and which ultimately ended like this:

“Goodbye Mother! Goodbye aunts and uncles! Goodbye grandma, goodbye grandpa! I will make sure to come back with plum blossom brooches and souvenirs!”

Tang Bo clamored out the window of the carriage, having to crane his head sideways to wave to the small group of greenly-dressed strangers. The original Tang Bo’s (wait, wasn’t he the original?) family seemed very close and loving, something he silently grieved for the previous owner of this body. So, he made sure to greet all of the relatives properly— of course, not explicitly, or by name, or by their correct titles.

As the carriage moved further away, his mother called out sadly, “Please… just make sure you come back home, my son. You don’t need to bring back anything else but your brother and yourself.”

Tang Bo hurriedly exclaimed, “I will!”

Tang Bo and his brother waved one last time to their relatives, before settling back from the window of the carriage. Tang Beom turned their horse around, setting their gaze forward and past the horizon.

. . .

“Alright, Bo-yah. I'm setting some ground rules for the trip.”

Tang Beom's voice reverberated from outside, the horse and the carriage’s noisy movement in the background. Tang Bo raised his head from where he was reading another one of those history books, one of few he’d packed for the trip. 

Tang Beom continued loudly, “First, no loitering around forests, mountains, woods, lakes, rivers and markets— I am absolutely taking no chances at losing you in a crowd or what else. There will not be a repeat of last time.” 

‘What an extensive list.’

Tang Bo nodded but stayed quiet, aware that Tang Beom couldn’t exactly see his agreement, but honestly, he didn’t care much about that. Tang Beom continued anyway. 

“Mother trusts me to take care of you, so I trust that you will also take care of yourself whenever I’m not around. Please, please, please , don’t put yourself into some stupid situation. When we get there, and if we’re welcomed kindly, you have to stick with a disciple or someone trust-worthy—preferably an adult—whenever you wish to explore the sect or head down to the foot of the mountain. And if no one can accompany you, well, and if I can’t accompany you, you cannot go. Alright?”

Tang Bo groaned and grumbled out loud, “Alright, alright…”

“Lastly…” Tang Beom said, and Tang Bo didn’t expect the words that came out next. “Enjoy yourself. Our mother… She's been making sacrifices for us, and especially for you ever since things got hard. She agreed to this trip because you’re finally acting semi-yourself again, and she wants to see you happy. Everyone wants to see you happy. So, if you have curiosity about anything, ask, but don’t get too excited.”

Tang Bo nodded again, slowly, before dropping his head down to continue reading his book. Their journey continued in this long-lived silence, the only sound breaking it was the cutting of hooves, the fluttering of tree leaves and, in passage, the bustling of the restored cities. 

. . .

Tang Bo and Tang Beom had spent a night at an inn before quickly departing again in the morning. Oddly enough, Tang Beom’s worry about this body’s “oversleeping” problems quickly became apparent to even Tang Bo himself. When he was being awoken, he found his body overridden with numbness and the inability to open his eyelids, even when all he wanted to do was wake up and get Tang Beom to stop trying to shake him awake already. 

Thankfully, after a few long seconds, feeling came back to him; though, the weakness of his limbs didn’t leave until a few hours after they’d departed. It was extremely unusual, but Tang Bo had thoroughly inspected this body and its meridians the day before, and had seen nothing wrong. These were also no symptoms he had ever seen or read about before, so he had no choice but to quietly brush it off and wait for a better time to inspect the state of this body. Tang Bo knew these things didn’t happen without an underlying cause; he just hoped he would be able to catch it—or it made itself known—before it was too late.

Tang Bo had long finished the book he’d been reading during their travels yesterday, and he was already halfway into a new one. He decided on a different sort of book this time — a novel, something that would hopefully bring the sluggishness of his body and mind back to life. Once again, the familiar silence of a carriage’s motion drove their journey for another hour or so, before Tang Beom suddenly spoke up from outside.

"Okay, I think you're hiding something. Spill it."

Tang Bo almost flinched. What on Earth? That was so sudden! And, what secrets were Tang Beom talking about? Which one? His identity? The “Original” Tang Bo’s fate? His own inquisitiveness about the Mount Hua Sect?

Ah, it was probably that last one. 

Tang Bo asked loudly in a dull tone, “What are you talking about?”

He could hear Tang Beom’s huff. “Well, I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”

Tang Bo’s face twitched from where it was looking at the page. As he closed the book, his mouth straightened into a tight smile with the words, “Hyung, I really don’t know what you’re talking about. Please, tell me what you want to hear from me.”

Suddenly, the carriage stopped moving. Tang Bo looked up towards the window and outside. Did something happen?

A few moments passed, and Tang Bo heard the crunch of boots on dirt. Suddenly, the door to the carriage swung open, revealing an impish Tang Beom.

“Uh? What are you doing?”

Tang Beom smiled and sat on the opposite side of Tang Bo, “Seems like a perfect time for a break, don’t you think?”

“Wh—”

“Shut it. So, are you going to tell me something about it or not?”

Tang Bo clamped his mouth shut, annoyance pulling his brows downwards. He flicked his eyes sideways, swearing on the inside about how youths these days really knew how to press their elders’ buttons—

‘.....’

Tang Bo revealed, "I know that person."

A pause. 

Then, "The one who performed the Mount Hua sword technique?"

“Yes.”

He really didn’t know where he was going with this. There was even a chance that this was all going to be a big mistake. 

But, it didn’t really matter, did it? This wasn’t his family; this wasn’t his body, this wasn’t even his life. If he was found out, then that would be a good thing, wouldn’t it? Then, the world would find out that a prodigy had been born into the Tang Family, but the clan would know that they had just revived an exalted elder. Their close-knitted family would lose one child, but the clan would gain fame and power at the same time. 

For a second, carelessness overtook Tang Bo’s mind. 

…There was no better thing than being reincarnated a hundred years into the future. Hah . 

"Huh… When did you even meet him?" Tang Beom articulated, staring at Tang Bo in confusion, as if he was still trying to process those words.

Tang Bo promptly replied, “It’s a secret.”

"....."

"You know, there may be plenty of things about me you don’t know about.” Tang Bo beamed, resting his hands behind his head and leaning back. 

Tang Beom continued to stare, and said almost skeptically, “...Did you meet him in your dreams or something?”

“....”

“....”

Tang Bo smiled, “...Maybe.”

“??”

Tang Beom stared exasperatedly at Tang Bo, who knew very well that he was leading this conversation into absolutely nothing. Tang Beom took a deep, exasperated breath, shaking his head as he said, “At least tell me if he’s a friend, or just an acquaintance, or what.”

Tang Bo stared off into the distance for a bit, before finally replying, “He’s a close friend.”

Tang Beom blinked, “Huh? Close friend— since when ? You rarely go out anywhere alone, where would you even meet up with him without our family knowing?”

Well, that was new information for Tang Bo to put into his headspace. He decided to play with Tang Beom a bit more. 

“Hmm…” Tang Bo fake pondered, putting his hand underneath his chin and his gaze wandering up to the trees outside. “Maybe, it was… In my dreams…?”

Tang Beom stayed silent for a moment, his patience reaching below zero that it just became utterly stunned silence.

“...Will you at least tell me why you’ve only just mentioned him now if you were ‘ close friends ’?”

Tang Bo snorted, “In your dreams.”

“...........”

Tang Bo turned away from the older boy at this point, gleeful in his successful diversions and entirely ignorant to the burning holes being glared into the side of his head. 

. . .

“Yes, we are very close friends! As close as friends could be!”

As he waited for the first-grade disciple to come back, a nervousness floated inside Tang Bo. He knew that by having essentially advertised his and his taoist hyung-nim’s relations, there was no turning back. 

And if it turned out that the Divine Dragon of Mount Hua was just a stranger after all, then it would all be over. 

Tang Bo felt like was grasping onto thin straws. Anything could break, anything could loosen at any point in time, but that was the scale Tang Bo put himself on. Anyone in the world could have told him at that moment that he should have been more careful, more meticulous, more patient , and they would have been damn right.

But, all he knew was that at one point, he was dying; and after that, the world had changed.

…While Tang Bo himself had stayed the same, stuck in a time that had already passed a hundred years ago. 

The thread Tang Bo hung onto was quietly breaking apart, the threads ripping as silently as the clouds veiling the moon. Tang Bo didn’t pray, but he hoped. 

He hoped, weeped, and pleaded; as quietly as he could. 

. . .

“...Bo-yah.”

His brother called out before Tang Bo could quickly escape into the guest room given to him. After that morning, Tang Bo and Tang Beom had been awkwardly toured around the sect, as per Chung Myung’s (kind of) request. Tang Beom tried to talk to his brother during the intervals in which they were left alone, but Tang Bo ceremoniously ignored him and ran away every time.

He had hoped he could sneak away and leave Tang Beom’s questions for tomorrow’s Tang Bo, but he had miscalculated one thing. The keys to both of their individual guest rooms were handed over to Tang Beom, and in the end, Tang Bo was left trying to open a locked door. 

And Tang Beom had no intention of letting him go. Tang Beom called out from behind him, “Can you explain what happened earlier?”

‘Damn it.’

Tang Bo cursed internally. He let his hand fall from where it was gripping the door knob and slowly turned to face the brother. He mentally prepared himself as he replied, “…No.”

 A tick flickered onto Tang Beom’s face, “Huh? What do you mean No ? Be serious, Bo. You didn’t say a word about the intensity of you and the Divine Dragon’s relations on the way here. And do you know how shameful your actions were earlier? If Mom was there she would have dragged you up and back home.”

“....”

Tang Bo could feel his cheeks heating up from his scolding. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to let the whole world know about his undying love and devotion for his taoist hyung-nim! But, but, it was a different thing when people tell you that you’re shameful for it… Tang Bo racked his brain for an adequate response.

“Um, I omitted some details. I-I was embarrassed, you know, as a fifteen-year-old boy talking about his relationships with his family. Hehe.”

Aw, crap. Tang Bo had no idea what to say or how to act. 

Tang Beom stared tediously at him for a second before seemingly having given up. He dragged a hand down his face and sighed, “...Fine. Just get some sleep for now. You are going to give me a full explanation tomorrow, and you’re going to help me write a letter to Mom.”

“Yes.”

‘Future Tang Bo… don’t fuck up!’ Tang Bo thought cheekily as he received the keys to his room. 

Tang Beom lost the sternness in his voice as he spoke, “Goodnight. Make sure to change your clothes and fix your things, and don’t stay up too long fiddling or exploring. I’ll come by tomorrow to wake you up, so don’t stay in dreamland for too long.”

“Okay. Good night, hyung!”

Tang Bo waved to the brother as Tang Beom shook his head and left. 

. . .

. . .

. . .

. . .

Okay.

Tang Bo did say “yep” to all of Tang Beom’s nagging earlier before they went to their respective rooms, but he couldn’t help it. 

He tossed and turned in his bed, unable to get back into that wonderful, totally not painless slumber no matter how many minutes he’d pretended to be asleep. Perhaps it was restlessness. 

And so, he dealt with restlessness the only way he knew how.

He snuck out of his room through the window.

Chapter Text

Tang Bo walked along the rebuilt paths of Mount Hua.

The trees were flowering, dropping petals across the air each time the wind shook their branches. The night was brought alight by the moon, making the houses and dormitories on Mount Hua glow.

The night was gorgeous, and Tang Bo yearned to enjoy it.

He picked up his walking pace, flitting across the vast training grounds and quiet buildings. Past the dormitories, the sect leader’s house, and along the main gate walls, Tang Bo began to heave. He groaned, puffing quietly, ‘What an unfit body…!’

Just a short distance beyond the walls, a small grove of plum blossom trees captivated Tang Bo and inspired his tired legs. He managed to trudge further. The closer he got, the larger the trees grew; until the smallest trees were at least the height of a cabin, and the tallest ones seemed to tower against the mountains. He slid underneath the blossoming grove, flowers falling with every gust of wind.

Tang Bo clutched his outer robe, pulling it closer to himself— at the height of such a peak, no doubt would the air be cooler. He walked between the towering trunks, crumpling plum blossoms beneath his feet with every step. The ground was rich in them, pink and red and pink.

Eventually, Tang Bo caught sight of a particularly tall and heavy plum blossom tree. Its branches extended outwards, almost perfectly horizontal, making it seem a perfect perching spot. Approaching the trunk, he began to climb.

This body’s hands were still so soft, and climbing was much more difficult than he’d initially thought. The wind blew gently into the tree again, briefly creating a ripple in its branches and showering the air with newly-plucked flowers—but its howls couldn’t move the thick trunk, still holding steady as Tang Bo clasped onto its bark to keep stable. Tang Bo breathed, then began to climb again.

Soon, Tang Bo parted the twigs with his hands, finally reaching the sturdy branch high above the ground. He heaved himself up, watching the branch diverge into multiple small offshoots that held even more pink foliage.

But, when he looked to the end of the branch, he was surprised to find a pair of familiar rouge-pink eyes staring back at him.

After a brief pause, Tang Bo crawled close to Chung Myung. Then, he sat and hung his shortened legs over the thick branch, letting his legs gently nudge the plum blossoms below.

His vision was filled with things of pink. Those eyes continued to stare. The wind grew—softly, but not unnoticeably—and gently lifted the hair off their shoulders. It created a chill on Tang Bo’s neck, and he hugged himself tighter.

With his shoulders hunched, he looked across the sea of trees and the mountains behind them.

Only to still be unable to focus on the view.

So, with little difficulty, Tang Bo tore his eyes away from the scenery and finally met Chung Myung’s persistent gaze. The older boy did not avert his eyes for even a second. He watched Tang Bo, studied every unfamiliar quality on the younger boy’s face. His eyes traced the windthrown strands stuck on Tang Bo’s neck, and then he opened his mouth.

“Your hair’s shorter.”

Tang Bo stared and stared at Chung Myung.

And, suddenly, the night did not seem as beautiful at all.

Tang Bo smiled softly, “You’ve gotten shorter, hyung-nim.”

Tang Bo stared at the once-more splendid night. His head spun from the firm smack he’d received on the back of his head, but still, the smile on his face did not falter. Chung Myung, with annoyance, pretended not to notice.

He looked at the same view Tang Bo beheld in his youthful eyes. The peaks of Mount Hua only served to deepen the landscape, and with the plum blossoms falling over their heads, Chung Myung was merely a victim to be drawn towards the subject of the painting.

Tang Bo's cheeks glowed hotly when he noticed Chung Myung staring at him again. With his heart skipping, he looked back, facing his gaze with a confidence once held by a man who lived years ago.

Tang Bo’s smile grew into a toothy grin,
“Oh, hyung-nim. If I'd known you'd miss me so much as to weep and cry on my clothed shoulder, in front of your sahyungs…” Chung Myung’s brow twitched. “I should have met you in the middle of a street market! Who would've known that the great Plum Blossom Saint could be so endea—”

His mouth was slapped shut. “And where in the world did you get this much confidence— when just this morning, you were acting like a shrivelling, nervous little brat?” Chung Myung grinned but narrowed his eyes, “you Tang kids… have you never been taught to respect your elders?”

After a pause, Tang Bo quickly spluttered in laughter, releasing himself from Chung Myung's touch and cradling his stomach in an attempt to dampen it from the root. “Respect?! Hyung-nim, you honor the premise of respect now?!”

Chung Myung chuckled deeply, with bright eyes and an unbreakable, satisfied smile, “Aahhh… this little brat, if you don’t understand, then let me beat the sense into you, ah?”

Chung Myung tried to violently smack him again, but Tang Bo barely dodged and instead gently gripped Chung Myung’s hand. Chung Myung faltered.

The branches shook with Tang Bo’s parting giggles. He couldn’t even close his mouth to create an intelligible response. It wasn't that he was laughing at his hyung-nim's words anymore—he was just so, so happy. Plum blossoms covered his head with deep pink and bright pink; his cheeks all red and warmed up and his eyes tearing up in the glistening of the moon.

When he opened his eyes once more, Chung Myung’s face was set into an exaggerated yet adorable frown. His lips were downturned, yet his doll-pink eyes shone in absolute contentment. If anyone else had seen this face, they would have spit blood and cursed the heavens. But for Tang Bo, he had already done all of those things, and he still wanted to see it and spit blood and curse all over again.

This weight on his shoulders, he feels that he can carry it now. At least, now he knows he has someone to take off the weight when it becomes too heavy.

As his laughter faded into the air, and all that was left was their untroubled smiles, Chung Myung finally asked, “Aren’t you tired?”

A gentle sigh left Tang Bo’s lips, and in perfect timing, leaned his body sideways and rested his head on Chung Myung’s shoulder, “I feel that it’s a little hypocritical to ask that to someone you’ve bodily toppled over just a few of hours ago.”

Chung Myung scoffed, and after a moment, pushed him away. Tang Bo deflated sadly, aware that this was probably the moment the spell was going to be broken, and Chung Myung stopped being soft for the night.

He closed his eyes, feeling the pull of exhaustion trying to take him. Too much softness made him drowsy, like a baby.

But it startles him awake when he feels Chung Myung’s arm around his shoulders, and then under his knees—

He tries not to squirm when Chung Myung picks him up bridal-style, shocking even the man who'd once constantly, playfully joke about bringing Chung Myung home just like this.

And now here they were again, in a situation they would find themselves in back in those days. It brought Tang Bo into a quiet lull, a kind of relaxation he hadn't felt these past few days.

Chung Myung flew across the grove and the roofs, keeping Tang Bo firmly within his arms.

Before he knew it, they were back in his room, and he was being placed gently beneath the covers. His consciousness was leaving him sooner than he wished it would, sooner than he could greet Chung Myung goodbye, goodnight.

Chung Myung lingered for a second, gazing back at the bed and the young man sleeping within it, before fleeing.