Chapter Text
“Tell me about him,” Fang Duobing said. They shared a campfire in the middle of the woods, having met by chance. Mostly. Di Feisheng kept a weather eye out for Li Xiangyi’s silly little disciple since Li Xiangyi had the bad manners to fuck off to the netherworld and leave them both behind. So, when he heard Fang Duobing was going to be looking for their favorite wild goose in a rather remote and dangerous sort of place, Di Feisheng headed that way personally in case he needed to collect the young fox’s corpse.
“What, you want a bedtime story?” Di Feisheng asked. “Bit old for that, aren’t you?”
Fang Duobing’s expression flattened, but in the next moment, it was replaced with a sort of sad, doe-eyed pleading. Di Feisheng stared back, unimpressed.
Fang Duobing heaved a sigh. “He wouldn’t tell me anything, either. Even when I knew who he was, he didn’t want to talk about the past. Not with me, anyway.” He stared dejectedly into the fire and poked it with a stick.
Di Feisheng grunted and chewed on his rations. Sounded like Li Lianhua. Li Xiangyi had been imperious and bossy, but he was far more transparent. He hadn’t learned how to hide or lie half so well. He simply hadn’t needed those skills. Li Lianhua, however, had a multitude of secrets hidden up each sleeve and lies that rolled off his tongue smoother than the plum wine he favored.
He thought the matter had dropped. Right when he was settling back against his bedroll to meditate, Fang Duobing asked, “How did you meet? He said you had known each other for more than ten years.”
“I spent ten of those years in seclusion. I’m not sure I knew him at all, in the end.” Di Feisheng could only make that admission quietly and in the dead of night. If he had known Li Xiangyi or Li Lianhua better, perhaps the other man wouldn’t have felt the need to keep escaping him all the way to the Nàihé River.
“I knew him in the end, you knew him in the beginning. Let’s swap a story for a story. Tell me how you met Li Xiangyi, and I’ll tell you how I met Li Lianhua.”
Di Feisheng didn’t quite smile at the young fox, but it was a near thing. Unlike the old fox, if Di Feisheng gave him a story, he’d get one back that was more than a vague sentence or two in turn. It might be worth it. Maybe.
“I already know how you met Li Lianhua,” Di Feisheng said. He crossed his arms, affecting nonchalance.
Fang Duobing snorted. “Like you can believe anything he said? I’ll tell you the real story. I’ll even tell it first. I was on my first assignment…”
Di Feisheng, captive audience of one animated chatterbox, idly wondered if he’d be able to top a frankly ridiculous story about a wily old fox who could raise a petty criminal from the dead for a recipe book.
***
Di Feisheng remembered the first time he saw Li Xiangyi. He’d heard about him – it was hard not to hear all about the reputation of the 15-year-old prodigy who went on to start his own Sigu Sect at the tender age of 17 when you spent most of your time killing your way through the who’s who ranking of the Jianghu.
Di Feisheng mentally added him to the list of people he’d get around to probably killing someday and dismissed Li Xiangyi as a problem for future him to sort out. Around that time, he was still building his own Jinyuan Alliance, and had just forcibly taken the position of 10th in the world.
He paid Li Xiangyi no more mind.
Then came the 36 Drunken Moves on the rooftop. Ostensibly, it was to amuse his betrothed, but Di Feisheng saw something different. Although he was under the light of full moon, Li Xiangyi gleamed like the sun. Bright, powerful, and almost fiercely joyful. Whether Qiao Wanmian was amused or not, Di Feisheng did not care. He’d never seen a martial artist sword dance with as much unbridled pleasure and confidence. Hell, he’d never seen a courtesan trained in sword dancing look so lively, either.
Di Feisheng watched him throw the sword away, the red ribbon sliding through Li Xiangyi’s fingertips, before a light tug pulled the sword swirling back to Li Xiangyi’s hand. Di Feisheng certainly felt some sort of way about it. Li Xiangyi didn’t dance like the sword was a prop. Rather, he danced with the sword as a partner.
The sword was not an instrument of beauty for Di Feisheng. He didn’t even bother to give his sword a fancy name like the pretentious heroes of the Jianghu, including the one whirling across the rooftop. A sword was a tool, and another layer of protection between himself and his many enemies. A sword was probably how he was going to die someday when he finally met someone beyond his abilities. It had never occurred to him that it could be…art. Something to enjoy for the sake of enjoyment, plain and simple.
Li Xiangyi finished his performance and his drink before floating down to the street level, surrounded by admirers and friends.
Di Feisheng remained propping up a shadowy wall, reassessing. As an opponent, Li Xiangyi would be remarkable. If he fought as beautifully as he sword-danced, it would be the most exhilarating fight of Di Feisheng’s life.
He looked forward to it.
***
By the time Di Feisheng met Li Xiangyi formally, they had been circling each other for a while. If Li Xiangyi was the undisputed first of the martial arts world, Di Feisheng was not far behind. Their sects, both young and vigorous, occasionally clashed and were evenly matched.
Li Xiangyi’s Sigu Sect was founded on the premise that it would bring peace and stability to the martial world, and he was accomplishing it with an iron fist in a velvet glove. Di Feisheng always thought Li Xiangyi’s ruthlessness was well camouflaged by his youth and sparkling good looks. He was no more likely to leave an opponent alive than Di Feisheng was, if given proper motivation, but no one vilified him for it.
Di Feisheng’s Jinyuan Alliance was founded purely on the premise that he needed to put as much cannon fodder between himself and Di Fortress as he could, so he didn’t particularly care what they did in their spare time. If they were troublesome to the righteous sects, all the better.
Things came to a head one day after one of Di Feisheng’s newer recruits, an unhinged wench by the name of Jiao Liqiao, made a noisy splash in the martial arts world. She’d had a tiff with a beautiful female disciple of one of the righteous sects and decided not only to disfigure the girl’s face, but to also to burn the whole sect down to cinders in front of her.
Li Xiangyi had arrived in time to see the very end of things, and pursued Jiao Liqiao through the forest, fully intending on capturing or killing her. Di Feisheng saw them exchange no more than a half dozen moves before he knew that for all of Jiao Liqiao’s crazy, Li Xiangyi was the superior swordsman by far.
Di Feisheng could not very well stand around and watch as one of his subordinates was killed in front of him, so for the second time, he stepped in and rescued Jiao Liqiao, tangling with Li Xiangyi’s blade to give her time to escape.
Li Xiangyi was like quicksilver. His Whirling Steps were light on the air. His technique was as clean and as lovely as Di Feisheng thought it might be, but he could tell that Li Xiangyi’s attention was not on him. He was more focused on getting around him to go after Jiao Liqiao. It rather stung. Di Feisheng met that astonishing speed with equally astonishing power, determined to get Li Xiangyi look at him.
“She killed an entire sect,” Li Xiangyi said, teeth gritted. “Move aside.”
Di Feisheng’s sword whistled through the air a hair’s breadth from Li Xiangyi’s neck. Only by the virtue of excellent qigong did he keep his head.
“If one sect is so incompetent that they can be exterminated by one woman, they had it coming,” Di Feisheng said.
Voices echoing through the forest alerted Di Feisheng to the approach of the rest of Sigu Sect. Time to go. He disengaged with a solid kick to Li Xiangyi’s chest.
“Di-mengzhu!” Li Xiangyi sounded furious. Good. At least he knew who Di Feisheng was on sight. He was fearless, his pale face as cold as jade.
The arrival of Shan Gudao and his ilk sent Di Feisheng off through the trees, stepping lightly on thin branches as his own qigong skills carried him fast and far.
If Di Feisheng was smarter, he’d probably leave well enough alone. Withdraw to his fortress and think of a way to punish the crazy wench in such a way that she avoided causing such a scene in the future while also ensuring she didn’t poison his breakfast. It was mildly nauseating to consider that any of the usual punishment methods involving pain would probably egg her on and have the opposite effect. She seemed to be the type to like the whips and chains, which was inconvenient.
Leadership wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, sometimes.
But instead, he doubled back to the nearest city where he knew the Sigu Sect would stay for the night. Finding them wasn’t difficult – look for the nicest inn and follow the line of swooning maidens along the way.
Donning a half mask, he found a table in the corner and ordered some plain rice and tea. He had a view of Sigu Sect, still supping and fawning over their leader. Li Xiangyi’s cup was never empty, and there was always someone around him, hand on his shoulder, a voice in his ear making him laugh. It was a bright sound that cut through the room.
Although they had technically been handed a defeat by the Jinyuan Alliance, they were high-spirited. Di Feisheng’s lip curled in contempt.
Li Xiangyi did not need another friend or confidant, or sycophant, Di Feisheng thought. No, what he needed was a worthy rival. An opponent that could make him step back.
He finished his meal and left, but he was only halfway across the courtyard when the hair on the back of his neck prickled. It was all the warning he got before he saw a flash of red and felt the whistle of a sword just missing him as he slipped to the side.
“Come back to finish the job on the last survivor?” Li Xiangyi asked. He stood neatly in Di Feisheng’s path in a loose guard stance, his Shaoshi sword gleaming behind him. It was a habit he seemed to have, tucking his sword along the back of his arm and shoulder when he wasn’t using it but wasn’t ready to sheath it yet.
“The girl survived?” Di Feisheng asked, surprised. Poor thing. It would have been kinder if Jiao Liqiao had finished the job.
Li Xiangyi’s eyebrows rose. “She’s under my protection.”
Di Feisheng snorted. “I’m not interested in her.”
Now Li Xiangyi frowned. “Wasn’t it the disagreement between her and you that led to this?”
“Hardly. I don’t kill women. Or kids.” Anymore, but he didn’t say so. “This was Jiao Liqiao’s private quarrel.”
“She needs to face justice,” Li Xiangyi said.
“I will handle her.”
“With a pat on the back and a ‘good job’?”
Di Feisheng scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “What good job? She left an unfinished mess. Disgraceful.”
Li Xiangyi just blinked at him owlishly. “Is that your professional opinion?” he asked, almost sounding…amused.
Interesting. Di Feisheng tipped his head to one side, not responding.
“So why are you here, then? If you aren’t interested in the last survivor.”
“You,” Di Feisheng said, startling them both. “Duel me.”
“What?”
“Duel me. We were interrupted before.” Di Feisheng’s eyes raked up and down Li Xiangyi’s slender form, assessing his opponent with a clinical appreciation. Li Xiangyi was built like a dancer, lean and flexible and so fast. “You could use the challenge of someone capable of putting you in your place. Second place.”
It was hard to tell in the courtyard’s lamplight, but Li Xiangyi’s face seemed a little flushed and his eyes were bright and intent on Di Feisheng. Rage, probably. Or the wine he’d drunk earlier. It was a heady feeling, being the sole object of Li Xiangyi’s attention. It almost made up for his earlier dismissiveness during their bout.
“And you think that’s you?” Li Xiangyi said, with an arrogant twist of his lip, but the question was genuine.
Di Feisheng stepped close, until he towered over Li Xiangyi. He leaned in, catching the scent of hair and sword oils. Li Xiangyi stood his ground.
“Who else?”
Di Feisheng brushed past Li Xiangyi. He was confident he’d get his duel. Just not tonight.
He was right.
***
“That’s how I met Li Xiangyi.”
Fang Duobing stared at him from across the fire, silent and looking gob smacked for some reason.
“There. You had your bedtime story. You can also have first watch.” Di Feisheng let him sputter, before closing his eyes to meditate and circulate his qi. He still felt Li Xiangyi’s Yangzhouman wrapping around his Windy Poplar, a warm energy smoothing the feral, desperate edges of his own lifeforce.
It was the coldest of comforts.