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It was Feng Xin who used to yell at him to eat something, to remind him to put on extra layers because it was cold, to tell him he can't be seen with his hair undone and hanging around him in messy clumps. 

But now Feng Xin is gone, and there isn’t really a point in doing any of these things anymore, is there?

All Xie Lian does is lie on the threadbare bed of the small cottage they were seeking refuge in, and stare listlessly at his empty hands.

His best friend really did leave.

Xie Lian knew what he had been doing, kicking Feng Xin out, pushing him away. But some part of him still wanted to believe that Feng Xin would prove him wrong. That he would not leave.

That he would stay by Xie Lian's side, to the very end.

But of course he left. 

Feng Xin may have loved Xie Lian, may have revolved around him like the earth around the sun, but in the end even the loyalty of the most faithful bodyguard has its limits. 

Who could blame him? Even Feng Xin cannot love a broken man.

Especially not Feng Xin.

A shichen goes by, and then two, and slowly the sharp gnawing of the hunger in his belly evens out to a hollow ache. Xie Lian can barely tell how much time has passed, cannot muster enough energy to care.

So he lets time pass by like this, an endless blur of nothingness. Occasionally punctuated by the ghastly white mask that still haunts him.

The crying-smiling mask follows him everywhere. At first, he still jumps and calls for someone when it creeps up on him when he’s least expecting - in the corners of the room, when he closes his eyes, when he forces them awake - 

But there is no one around to listen. Feng Xin is - gone, and his parents are heavily ill, bedridden. He knows they are in urgent need of medicine, and even greater need of food, that he is being an unfilial son, but he cannot muster up the strength to lift even a finger.

All he can do is lie and scream. And soon even his throat is too raw to scream anymore. 

So he falls silent.

On the third morning, Xie Lian caresses the white silk band, idly imagining what it would feel like to have that white band wrapped around him. He's just turning the white band in his hands, idly lifting it up towards the streak of sunlight streaming into the room through the boarded windows, when a single noise permeates the silent haze of his thoughts.

Xie Lian assumes that it’s simply a new hallucination at first, the telltale creak of the wooden cottage door opening. It could hardly be a human. Who would come to visit? Everyone has long since left. 

So he continues to lie listlessly on the bed, idly counting the cracks in the ceiling.

Something that sounds an awful lot like footsteps approach - strong footfalls drawing near. Xie Lian pauses and listens. The manner in which they land on the creaking wooden floor somehow rings familiar.

It’s just a hallucination, he tells himself. Xie Lian, you’re hallucinating again. Wishful thinking, a figment of your imagination, conjured up by a man whose very last dredges of sanity have disintegrated.

The footsteps conjured up by his broken mind gradually draw nearer and nearer, until they stop somewhere outside his room. 

And then comes a voice. One that he would know anywhere.

“Taizi Dianxia - “

Sighing, Xie Lian caves to curiosity. He turns his head, glancing behind him at the door. 

And there, standing at the doorway is - 

Feng Xin.

He looks just the same as he did the last time Xie Lian saw him - tired, dark circles under his eyes, gaunt cheekbones, ragged clothes. But his eyes - 

Those wide brown eyes are roving, taking in the sight of Xie Lian on the threadbare bed, lying listlessly, hair unkempt and matted, and something in Feng Xin’s face stiffens, as if flinching from a stinging blow. 

He doesn’t say anything, simply crosses the short distance between them, kneels on one knee before Xie Lian and blurts out, “Taizi Dianxia! I’m sorry for leaving you. I’ll take any punishment you see fit.”

Xie Lian blinks. Stares.

“Feng Xin,” he croaks. The words scrape the back of his throat, his voice rough from disuse. 

He clears his throat, tries again. “Feng Xin. What are you doing here. Why have you…”

Feng Xin’s head sinks even lower. “Dianxia. I came to apologize. I walked out in a moment of hurt, but I wasn't thinking clearly, and I — needed air, I needed to clear my head — but I should never have left you! I have thought about what you said, and even if I don't agree with some of the things you do, you're still my prince. I'm sorry, will Dianxia forgive me?” 

Xie Lian flinches. 

He doesn't understand. What is happening? Why is Feng Xin apologizing? This is… This is all wrong.

 “...But I told you to leave.”

He doesn’t say it like a question, nor an implied order; instead it is simply a statement of factual events. He told Feng Xin to leave. He drove Feng Xin away. Why is Feng Xin back?

Feng Xin shouldn't be here. Feng Xin should have left him, for good. Xie Lian is damaged, Xie Lian is cursed, Xie Lian is a rotten, broken shell of a man, and it’s only a matter of time before Feng Xin sees the stark truth of exactly what he has become, and then Feng Xin will finally walk away and never look back - 

“I know you told me to leave!" Feng Xin retorts, finally lifting his head to meet Xie Lian's eyes. "But I — how can I just abandon you, Dianxia? At your lowest?"

He swallows, expression completely serious, voice heavy with gravitas. "If you truly want me to be gone, then I'll go. But I swore an oath. I’m not going to break it just because we fought, not when you need me most!”

His eyes on Xie Lian’s are intent, steadfast and true, every part the loyal bodyguard, the faithful best friend that Xie Lian has always known — 

And Xie Lian can’t stand it. 

He can’t stand the way Feng Xin looks at him. He can't stand that expression in his best friend's eyes, as if Feng Xin still sees the old Taizi Dianxia, the Crown Prince Who Pleased the Gods, standing in all his magnificent glory, ceremonial robes fluttering in the wind. 

Xie Lian can’t stand it. It makes something in his chest flare, something angry and bright and destructive. It makes him want to draw his sword and rip something up, tear it all to shreds, cut down both Feng Xin and himself.

He rips his gaze away, turns so that he's facing the wall instead of Feng Xin. 

“I’m not Taizi Dianxia anymore,” he rasps.

Feng Xin sucks in a breath. "Dianxia, I — "

"I'm not him anymore!" Xie Lian yells, interrupting Feng Xin before he can say something that Xie Lian cannot bear to hear. "I'm not your Taizi Dianxia anymore. That prince you swore to follow. I'm not him anymore.” 

He doesn't even have a kingdom any longer. Fallen, overthrown, collapsed into ruins — because of him. 

What Flower-Crowned Martial God? What God-Pleasing Crown Prince? What a joke! If any of his former worshippers saw him now, he would be the laughingstock of the kingdom.

“Don’t you understand?” Xie Lian yells. “That prince, whoever he was, is gone now, Feng Xin. And all that’s left is me!" 

A burned-out, hollow, empty husk of a man, who can’t even rise from the threadbare bed to eat.

And in an instant, all the bitter burning anger deflates from Xie Lian's chest. 

His voice is blank once more, wiped clean of all emotion. He lost control earlier with that outburst, but it will not happen again.

He says blankly, "The Taizi Dianxia you knew is gone. I'm sorry, Feng Xin. Perhaps you should leave." 

He hears Feng Xin suck in a harsh breath from somewhere behind Xie Lian, sounding winded, pained. 

Xie Lian doesn't turn to look. He can't bear it. He doesn't want to see the expression on Feng Xin's face right now.

Silence. A long moment passes.

Then, emphatically, Feng Xin says, "You're my friend."

Xie Lian stiffens. 

"You are my best friend," Feng Xin argues. "I don't care about all the rest of that bullshit, about whether you are a god or a goddamn prince, I only care that you are my friend!"

Xie Lian feels something rise in his throat, something sharp and brittle and agonizing, with claws and teeth that catch against his skin. 

How can Feng Xin still consider Xie Lian his friend, after everything Xie Lian has done?

“Feng Xin,” Xie Lian repeats, trying to pitch his tone as icy as possible. “I’m not a prince anymore, and you're not my bodyguard any longer. There's no need to hold yourself still to some oath that no longer exists.” 

“Taizi Dianxia, you’re not just my prince!” Feng Xin cries. “You’re my best friend!”

Xie Lian hears movement, fabric rustling, and dares a glance back.

Feng Xin has moved to sit cross-legged on the floor a short way from the foot of the bed, gazing up at Xie Lian. He's always been gazing up at Xie Lian, eyes squinting slightly in that familiar look, as if Xie Lian was something just a tad too bright to look at full-on.

Even now, after everything, too bright to look at. 

Something sharp digs its edges in Xie Lian's ribs, and he grips his left arm with his right, digs his own nails into his skin.

Turning sharply, he stares at the wall again instead of Feng Xin's gaze.

"Dianxia, remember when we were fifteen?” Feng Xin begins. "You wanted to sneak out of the palace to see the celebrations on the street for Shangyuan Festival, and I followed you?”

Xie Lian flinches. 

That particular memory feels like two lifetimes ago, but of course he remembers. They were so young back then, young and bright-eyed and full of awe. Completely unwitting of what awaited them. Back before Xie Lian crashed from the pedestal he was on, before Xianle fell, before Mu Qing left, before Xie Lian shattered, before everything. 

Feng Xin continues, “And we walked the streets in disguise, like two commoners, and bought lanterns to write wishes on, to send them off into the sky - I remember your wish, Taizi Dianxia.”

So does Xie Lian. That had been one of the most jubilant memories of his youth, glimmering like a pearl in the shell of his memories, and he misses those easy days with Feng Xin so much that it stings.

“The wish you wrote on that lantern was that you wanted to be the best of friends forever. And then we found out that we had written the same wish, because mine was to always be by your side — and, Dianxia, I still want that — as long as you’ll let me.” 

"No matter what happens," Feng Xin says, his voice honest and insistent in the stillness of the threadbare cottage, “you will always be my best friend. Whether you are a god or a prince or a beggar or even a fucking thief, I’ll still follow you! I made a promise to always be by your side, keep you safe. I'm never going to break it, Dianxia, not for anything!"

Finally, Xie Lian risks a glance back.

Feng Xin’s eyes are raw with emotion, with conviction, and Xie Lian — Xie Lian can't speak, his throat closing up abruptly. 

He wants to yell at Feng Xin to stop, to leave now before he regrets it, that he won’t think the same of Xie Lian anymore once he finds out exactly how fucked up Xie Lian is, but Xie Lian’s tongue won't move. It’s like his tongue has become lead in his mouth, heavy and useless.

“After all,” Feng Xin adds upon noticing Xie Lian's silence, “haven’t I already stayed this long? Haven't I busked for hours and hours with you? Why would I abandon you now? And haven't we already seen each other’s ugliest sides? So what if I don't agree with everything you do? So what if you aren't your usual self? You're still Dian — Xie… Lian.” Here, Feng Xin’s jaw twitches, as if the name is strange on his tongue. Yet he is trying, making an effort, for Xie Lian. "You're still my best friend."

As Feng Xin finishes, he hesitantly stretches a hand out to Xie Lian, gently touching a finger to Xie Lian's cheek.

“So, please don't push me away anymore. Please, talk to me, let me help, please…” Desperation and worry color Feng Xin’s voice. “I don't want to see you in so much pain, I don't want to see you cry!” 

Xie Lian starts at that.

Cry? What is Feng Xin talking about?

But then he blinks and all of a sudden his vision is blurry, blotted with tears. He blinks again swiftly, willing his eyes to rid themselves of moisture.

"Dianxia…" 

Feng Xin carefully wipes the tears from Xie Lian’s cheeks, with more tenderness than one would expect from calloused archer's fingers.

Xie Lian recalls a remark Mu Qing had made to him one day, Don’t you know that he’s always following you around like a lovesick puppy?, and how Feng Xin has always disliked the maidens who mooned after Xie Lian. The look in Feng Xin’s eyes sometimes when he catches sight of Xie Lian in the moonlight.

For a long time, Xie Lian had failed to notice, too caught up in cultivation and chasing his childhood ambitions. Then, finally he did notice, but by then it was too late, for everything was falling apart — first Xianle, and then Xie Lian.

And now, despite the rift that has cut between them, Feng Xin is taking that first step forward to bridge the walls between them, the barriers of their differing status, the distance that grows ever larger between them these days, the canyon of circumstance and catastrophe that had pulled apart the two who were once inseparable in their youth.

This is Feng Xin taking a step forward, stretching out a hand to Xie Lian, asking Xie Lian to meet him somewhere beyond all of the boundaries and baggage that kept them both trapped.

And Xie Lian feels something in him shatter, like a dam breaking. 

I don't know how to be him anymore! Xie Lian wants to shout. 

I don't know how to be your Taizi Dianxia, your best friend, the man you knew and chose to follow all these years, swearing to guard with your life.

I don't know how to be someone worthy of your loyalty, your faith, your friendship, your love.

I don't know if I can ever again be anything like who I used to be. “Taizi Dianxia” is dead and gone!

All these words bubble in his throat, rising and swirling and threatening to choke him, to suffocate his lungs.

Half of him wants to push Feng Xin away, wants to scream at Feng Xin to stop following him, stop forgiving him, stop looking at him like that - like Xie Lian is the very sun — because Xie Lian is broken, Xie Lian doesn't work right anymore, doesn’t Feng Xin understand? 

But the other half of him only wants to pull Feng Xin blindly, desperately towards himself, against his own broken body and cracked heart — and beg Feng Xin never to walk away from him again.

Xie Lian opens his mouth to scream, to wail, to shove Feng Xin away, before Feng Xin can give him false hope, before Feng Xin can break him even worse than Xie Lian has already broken —

But all that comes out is a whisper.

"Feng Xin… Please, don't leave me again." 

Even to his own ears, his voice sounds small, strangled, and cracks on the last word.

Feng Xin’s face crumples, pinched and grief-stricken, and he grips Xie Lian’s hand tightly.

"I won't leave you again," Feng Xin vows. "Dianxia, I promise. I swear on my life, I won't leave you again."

Xie Lian draws a shaky, teary breath, trembling, splintering —

And that's when the dam finally bursts, and just like that Xie Lian is sobbing, full-body heaves and sobs that wrack through him and streak his vision.

His limbs move of their own accord, and before he can catch himself he's wrapping his arms around Feng Xin, pulling his best friend close, just like when they were fourteen and Feng Xin had a nightmare and Xie Lian would hug him and tell him everything will be alright. Just like the way Feng Xin would do the same when it was Xie Lian who woke up teary from a nightmare.

"Dianxia," Feng Xin says, as if that word is all he can say, and even Feng Xin, who never cries, sounds tear-stricken too now. Xie Lian has never heard Feng Xin sound like this, all desperate and shaky and sick with worry. “If you really want me to go, then I will, but, if you… If you’ll still allow me to be by your side… Then, Dian — Xie Lian, please, talk to me, don't push me away again... We'll figure it out, we’ll figure it together, okay?”

And Xie Lian can't even answer, all he can do is sob in Feng Xin's arms and choke out incoherently, please don't leave me, please don't leave, please, you’re all I have left, I can’t lose you too, I can’t bear to be without you...

This is his best friend whom he used to swordfight with wooden toy blades in the light of stolen torches when they snuck out to the gardens at night, and then later sparring with their own, real weapons.

His best friend who patched up Xie Lian’s wounds with calloused but tender hands whenever Xie Lian injured himself in training or in real battles. Who once broke his own arm for Xie Lian, just so Xie Lian would not have to be punished; who laughed with him and sobbed with him and busked with him and was there through all the tears, all the screams, all the nights when Xie Lian was consumed by panic attacks at the very sight of a white crying-smiling mask.

It's Feng Xin, Xie Lian’s best friend, who has seen Xie Lian's best and worst, and still somehow chose to come back, still somehow wants to stay. Who pledged his lifetime to protecting Xie Lian not just because of his oath but because he knows Xie Lian better than anyone and yet somehow still finds Xie Lian worthy of allegiance. Who is and has always been steady as the tautest drawstring on a sturdy oak bow, and loves Xie Lian with a loyalty and devotion that Xie Lian doesn't deserve.

Xie Lian doesn’t know how things will ever be okay again — he isn't himself, his parents are gravely ill, they are barely surviving on a meal a day, their home is gone, nothing is alright —

But then he shuts his eyelids and shuts out the world, and just for this moment, in Feng Xin’s arms, they are young again, just two boys desperately reaching for one another for comfort in a world where they are all each other has left.

And as he cries and lets himself be held by his best friend, cradled in Feng Xin’s steadfast arms, the broken pieces of Xie Lian at last begin the slow process of knitting themselves back together.