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The night was cool. A refreshing breeze blowing across the ocean, bringing the scent of approaching waves. A full moon’s reflection cast itself across the water near the mouth of the dragon bone prison.
Tushan Jing found her there. Dressed in white and sitting on an outcroping of of rock. It wasn’t Xaio Yao or even Wen XiaoLiu who sat there, back turned toward him. Instead, as evidenced by the silver-grey tresses, it was the visage of Xiang Liu.
Tushan Jing had witnessed her wandering in this form from afar for the first time only days ago. He wasn’t quite sure how she managed the semblance of Xiang Liu’s hair, although he assumed it was an illusion she’d somehow mastered that could be part of The Rejuvenating Flower. The first time he saw her like this, it had taken a moment to realize it was Xiao Yao. He’d believed he’d seen a ghost, a phantom returned from the netherworld to steal Xiao Yao away.
But in a sense, that’s exactly what this was. The ghost of a nine-headed demon who lived in her heart, coming for her from within and not without. Xiang Liu was far from dead to her. He was her whole entire being.
Jing could tell she heard his approach, footfalls hard to mask on the rocky shore unless he wanted to use his inner force and then she would have likely sensed that too. Her back, slightly more slender than the real one, tensed.
Tushan Jing called out, “I know it’s you.”
Standing with flowing hair whipping to one side, and a glance over the shoulder—that quick movement and sharp stare belonged to a being that would never truly exist in the world again, yet was so like the original to be uncanny.
The illusion would fail though, would it? The moment she spoke a word, it would shatter as though it never existed. He was sure, and yet his heart pounded hard in his chest. Fear.
“What do you know?” It wasn’t Xaoi Yao’s voice, it was Xiang Liu’s. Resonant and deep, as though from the depths of the rolling waves.
Jing stopped short. His breath stolen now. Everything he’d believed breaking into tiny pieces like the ocean eroding rock to sand. This couldn’t be Xiang Liu, it wasn’t the demon returned.
He found his footing again and advanced until they stood side by side, the other figure finally turning to face him. “I know you, Xiao Yao.”
A slight, if condescending lift of the corner of the mouth and shake of the head. Those eyes, just as piercing as they’d been in life. Full of ferocity still but something else now—a deep abiding sadness. An endless well of sorrow deeper than the ocean and stretching beyond towards infinity.
“Leave.” The word spoken in the demon’s voice was threatening.
Tushan Jing had no idea how she could take on his voice—perhaps The Rejuvinating Flower was more formidable than anyone had realized. For Jing, it was truly a weapon. One that was as destructive and deadly as any sword or bow.
Despite his perception of danger, Tushan Jing stepped forward. The visage of Xiang Liu stepped back, with the usual grace of the demon general. She hadn’t just copied his body and voice, she’d adapted his movements. This simulacrum of him was almost flawless.
Jing was at a loss. “I’m here to help you,” he managed, again advancing toward the figure, this time catching an errant strand of white hair between his fingers. Those threatening eyes watching his movements, as Jing released the soft tress and lifted the same hand to the face as beautiful and cold as marble.
Xiang Liu shrugged away from the touch. “You dare.”
Jing dropped his hand. “I do,” he said. “I want to help you. I want to help you heal.” He hadn’t realized he was crying until he heard the break in his own voice, the sensation of the breeze drying the tear tracks finally breaking through the thoughts of Xiao Yao suffering beneath the shell of Xiang Liu.
The laugh, like Xiang Liu’s own was devoid of humor, the gaze becoming more cold. Jing swore he could feel a chill emanating from the figure, but that couldn’t possibly be so. “Look to your own safety,” Xiang Liu’s voice said to him. And in a sudden rush of swirling snowflakes, he was gone.
No, she was gone. Xiao Yao had left Tushan Jing standing alone by the dragon bone prison. Trembling in the moonlight darkness, the crashing waves and his own sinking thoughts his only companions.
It was dawn when Tushan Jing returned to the cabin on the Chenrong Mountain he shared with Xiao Yao—the same that her ill-fated parents had once owned. When he walked in the door, Xiao Yao greeted him, looking as she usually did. She was dressed in a green gown, her hair adorned with delicate ornaments. Her eyes shined, as she carried a tray of tea to the table, placing it down carefully.
“Where have you been?” she asked him, as though the previous night had been some dream…some nightmare. As though her soul weren’t leading two lives, impossibly torn.
When he didn’t respond, she tilted her head and stepped toward him. He unconsciously took a step back. “Jing? Are you unwell?” She reached up with the back of her hand, touching his forehead delicately. He caught himself before he flinched. Reminding himself that he had to help and support her. He would never leave her, even if this double life of her’s never ended. Even if the choices she’d made weren’t the ones that would have made her truly happy.
He wouldn’t ever leave her.
Tushan Jing took Xiao Yao’s hand in his own and kissed it. “I’m well. Don’t worry yourself.” He motioned to the table. “Sit, let’s have some tea.” He smiled at her, leading her towards the tray. His mind was a jumble of thoughts and fears, but his determination remained unwavering.
Jing would care for Xiao Yao always—he loved her more than his own life. And he owed the one who’d sacrificed everything for them both. That nine-headed demon who still lived on in her soul.