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"Xiaohua?"
Fang Duobing could not remember the last time he was anywhere this dark. The air around was still, not heavy and consumed but rather suspended in temperate equilibrium with the total blackness. He was unable to see his feet when he looked nor the distance where his lapels would be. He closed his eyes shut and held on to a count of three before re-opening them to his surroundings, unchanged. It was unlike the minutes that had stretched obligingly into hours sitting outdoors with a companion, or in bed with the windows slightly opened, sheltered by creaking wooden planks, where words and dreams crescendoed and were illuminated by the natural light of the moon.
Yet, Duochou-gongzi was unafraid. It had been four years since he began going by the title he once penned in his defiant youth. Relying on his accumulated experience, Fang Duobing could hear beyond walls and feel between crevices to map out the spaces he had entered. This time, he listened and traced, it was a black concave room, intact and free of loose parts. By logic, he was safe for the time being before the next clue surfaced or the daylight broke through. No matter the array or obstacle, he had found the Door of Life in every mechanism eventually. It was a test of collectedness and patience.
And, by heart, he knew he was not alone. He rather enjoyed the silence. It was finally just him and believing in that something and someone left in space, no distractions, obstructions, or however much convincing he would hear to let go and move on, got in between. It was intrinsic dating back to childhood as much as it was tangible in the here and now.
Just when he turned to find the center of gravity for a good seat for the temporary repose, Fang Duobing's finger caught a ripple that danced off his skin. It was sourced ten or so strides away, he estimated. He reflexively reached for Erya, only to find it disappeared along with his pouch of tools around his waist.
He carefully raised his arm in the direction of the cue and felt a faint breeze. It did not seem unsafe. He felt the temperature gradient cascading towards him, and his eyes caught the first colour since he came into the dark. Time squeezed and bent in this black array. The ground and walls were dense and flattened the approaching footsteps, but a longing familiarity surged and settled in his chest. A candlelight came into focus. It was Li Lianhua.
"I'm here, Xiaobao."
Have a belief strong enough to will the person whole into the present.
Fang Duobing ran all the way towards that figure he would know anywhere, creating waves from one flicker of light in the stillness of space. He found him, he found him, he found him. When he got close enough to be dyed in the same warm, orange glow after what seemed too long to bear and too short to be real, he stopped just two breaths away. Li Lianhua looked at him and smiled at his brakes in the way he remembered, gentle, playful, and unruffled all in one. Their skin did not touch, but their robes lapped against one another in an unspoken embrace.
"Neither of us lost our way," Li Lianhua's soft, steady voice travelled the last of the distance.
Fang Duobing stood drinking in his existence with his all. It was his favourite set of light grey robes, not the set he had worn most often in his memories but one that was subtly patterned and brought out his mellow elegance just so. He could see the evenings spent reading by candlelight, the kettle bubbling over the crackling firewood, and the tea leaves laid out ready in two cups. The lights and shadows ebbed and flowed past his collar, rising up to his slender neck and lips. His usually pale cheeks were flushed with the hues lent by the candle that he held. Its ambers and golds painted both fabric and skin, emitting a beautiful, comfortable warmth that belonged to only Li Lianhua.
Fang Duobing was far too occupied to reply, and Li Lianhua's eyes flickered knowingly before turning to his side and scanning their surroundings. He stepped out of the center the two had filled to illuminate the walls of the enclosure. He circled along the edges a few rounds and more.
"This array... it's just like the designs you told me about," Li Lianhua began. "The mechanisms the great Young Master of Tianji Manor trained in also operated on such well-controlled, alternating sectors that only revealed its exits when the set time was up."
"You remember."
Fang Duobing breathed, barely audible, his eyes never leaving the person he had yearned for in wake and sleep. He could not tell whether it was the imperturbability he had learned these years apart in body that old friends praised with melancholy to resemble the late Physician Li they knew, or if it was the undiminished connectedness he carried in spirit between him and Li Lianhua that allowed presumptions of his death to overpass him without weight, that held him strong and gathered even now. As natural as it would be, he would be here; they would never be too far separated. He strode over to where Li Lianhua was in his thoughts and investigating.
Even with the candle flame, the black wall remained the same, without signs of contraptions that he might have missed earlier. Fang Duobing thought, if he were alone, he could wait for as long as the mysterious array wanted them to, but Xiaohua was here, too. On their feet and moving around, he would be fine, but once they settled down for the long wait, the chill would wash in and inhabit every membrane. Xiaohua’s robes were far too thin, Fang Duobing always thought.
Whenever the cold fronts hit, Li Lianhua would sleep in a mountain of fabrics made of whatever he owned. Fang Duobing had wanted to gift him a thick, white fur cloak for that very reason; it doubled as both clothing and quilt so that leaving his bed in the dead of the night or the next early, cool morning would not be leaving a nest of warmth to fend for himself. He could take it with him anywhere he went. Fang Duobing never could find that soft wrap of warmth exchanged between them when he cleaned out Lotus Tower and preserved what he could from the elements before renovation. He hoped he took it wherever he went.
Where did you go?
His vision tilted ever so slightly—
How did I get here?
"Li Lianhua—"
The sole candle between them had moved back to the center of space. The walls offered no further clues, and Li Lianhua lowered himself to sit and patiently wait it out. Fang Duobing instinctively reached for something, for anything, a handkerchief or other to pat down a spot for him until he realized he did not have anything on him to offer. Before he could say more, Li Lianhua had made himself comfortable on the floor, motioning for him to join in the half circle illuminated on the ground by the light in his hand.
Fang Duobing and Li Lianhua sat side by side in the quiet, enclosed by the dark outer shell that stretched on. A single, small flame burned in the middle and crackled, enough for two.
"We've been here before."
Fang Duobing looked up at those words. He had left a distance of a palm between them when he sat down, but again their robes had gathered together, and again did Li Lianhua's breath glide through the gap to reach him.
"That time at Shishou Village..."
"You said you were scared of ghosts."
"I am scared of ghosts."
Fang Duobing's lips upturned slightly at the memory despite himself. He responded a little louder than his first whisper, a little surer.
"You found Erya and held on to it so tightly."
"In the palace underground..."
"I said you would never have to face what was ahead alone."
"And so you walked towards me step after step."
"We jumped down together to the Pagoda of Paradise."
"I found the paintings by candlelight and you the rendezvous tunnel."
"Madam Qin always tells me of how mischievous you were."
Fang Duobing continued before Li Lianhua could respond: "I visit her often. So one day I thought, Li Xiangyi would have teased me to the ends of the Earth for boldly taking your hand in mine and leading you through Consort Ying and Feng Ahlu's chamber of amour. But, you said nothing. You couldn't. Li Lianhua had too much on his mind. Ten years ago and ten years later the same, you had too much to face alone. There was not ever enough time."
Fang Duobing had nothing on him to gift or grant him. From that day, that year, Guan Hemeng had disclosed to him Li Lianhua's remaining life span, he was torn with the thought that he was born ten years too late. In the following seasons when Su Xiaoyong found him on her own travels as student doctor, she had brought him to her sworn brother's to reason with. Fang Duobing had not laid down and slept in weeks, and Guan Hemeng could only quietly say, he fell in love six months too deep. Fang Duobing missed the chance to accompany Li Xiangyi for a lifetime, and the ghost of Li Lianhua would forever be etched in the alcoves of his bones. He did not have anything on him to keep him, yet here, Xiaohua was sat like he always was, sentient and calm.
The gentle fire sparkled, parting Fang Duobing from dwelling on cumbrous thoughts. A bead of wax, shiny and ablaze, gathered and dripped down the candlestick. Just before it could graze Li Lianhua on its shaft, Fang Duobing's hand wrapped around his. The small draft from his sudden movement rustled the invisible window paper between them.
"I'll hold it. We can take turns," he said, hardly registering the burn of the melted oil on his flesh over the smooth and cool skin fitted against him underneath. He loosened his clutch ever so, enough to let Li Lianhua retract his hand from the candle and from their entwinement.
He did let go, and Fang Duobing held on to their light alone, yet Li Lianhua reached across once more. This time, much further, the sheeted veil that was beginning to rest uplifted from his end. Fang Duobing blinked as the same hand that he had just pressed upon touched his face, fingers dabbing on the corners of his eyes, before settling to cup his dampened cheek in his palm.
Only then did Fang Duobing realize his tears had already spilled on their own. He was so close to Li Lianhua. He had done holding back again and again in the past but not this time. His free hand reached for the one brushed against his skin. He took it and guided him down his cheek and over his chin. Cold fingers trickled along the sensitive area of his neck and rustled his collar, then his lapels. Their two hands stilled over Fang Duobing's heartbeat.
Fang Duobing's pulse was as bold and strong as he was whole, reverberating steadily against them both, warming the one who had always been the cooler of the two. When their temperatures were the same, Fang Duobing hovered their hands just enough to intertwine their fingers. He clung on, and he looked down. This time, he could see them at the distance of his chest. The light from the candle rekindled the two, and Li Lianhua—
Fang Duobing's heart thumped. The depths of his navy robes dyed and seeped through the flesh of Li Lianhua's palm to his fingertips. His hand was pale as it always was, but it was glimmering in translucence.
Alarmed and stricken, Fang Duobing threw away all boundaries and whatever propriety and ambiguity that remained between them and took Li Lianhua's hands in the both of his. The candle holder left unsupported clanged on the floor beside them. He rolled up his sleeves and felt his forearms entirely over. He was not—
It's a dream.
He steadied the breath that had surged in a flash before trepidation flooded him once more.
"If you're here, are you......"
I could find the way out of every array except yours.
He clambered to squeeze his eyes shut, hoping to wake, hoping for anything and nothing all at once. Fang Duobing was the only person Li Lianhua withheld from a farewell, and he vowed that as long as he did not receive word from that person's own brush and lips, he would live as though he was still alive in this world.
Have you come to say goodbye to me?
"Hey, you're okay. You're okay."
Fang Duobing instantly unfastened the agitated hold on his five senses. The intonation was as familiar as it was distinct from the voice he had walked with, ate with, cried with, and slept with under one roof for six months. It was slightly higher, slightly rosier. He looked up to where Li Lianhua had been, their arms still entangled.
Li Xiangyi.
He was in crisp white just as they had opened their chapter. Red gauze wrapped around his waist and boyish edges. A young, crestfallen dreamer met with his cool breeze and bright moon. Clear and pure spring waters met with his small protector.
"I've always been here."
Yes, one meeting was where it had begun. A trail of candy and a painting at an altar outlived every detracting hearsay. For ten years, little Fang Duobing dreamt of Li Xiangyi, and he was never gone with the parting wind. Two fox tails and a scheme crossed unexpected waters, and he found him, he found him, he found him. Li Lianhua was Li Xiangyi, and he was here. Guan Hemeng had given Fang Duobing the ingredients for a sleeping, relaxant brew when Su Xiaoyong caught him that time. It would be tough to wake before the effects wore out, but his bodily systems could rejuvenate as they were meant to at nightfall. And dreams—dream he would.
As though testing out new meadows, Fang Duobing tentatively reached for the band of red silk that had dangled closest to him. He patted and smoothed out its folds over twice. Li Xiangyi sat there, quiet and waiting, a mischievous smile matched the one Li Lianhua had whenever he had caught Fang Duobing's tracks.
Since it's a dream......
Fang Duobing disentangled himself and gathered the ends of his own heaping robes aside to lie down flat, resting half on the floor, half on Xiaohua's lap stretched out beside him. When he settled down and quelled his embarrassment, he looked up straight and saw that it was Li Lianhua again.
"Ah, children."
"Only you would say that about the Duochou-gongzi now," Fang Duobing said softly as he relished, on the contrary, in the chance to be childlike silly again. "Do you know, I solve a hundred cases a year. And, only you would play sly, when we first met at the inn, with the great Young Master Fang."
Li Lianhua chuckled and maneuvered so that his arm was free, folding his sleeves into a cushioned patch to pat around Fang Duobing's face. Then, he tidied the wisps of hair that framed the man’s features, brushing and tucking them beyond his ears with his tickling fingers.
"Xiaohua."
"Mmm?"
"The first year Li Xiangyi disappeared, I had just begun to walk the distance to the woods out back at the Manor without support. Mother watched as I practiced my sword. She knew I was too hasty. Every time I fell, she couldn't bear it and carried my entire self back inside. It would be yet another dark bowl of medicine before I slept. My eyes must have still been red, not from falling, but from the news of your death, that she didn't have the heart to scold me about following your footsteps even if nothing would be at the other end waiting for me."
"But, I dreamt of you. We would just sit, side by side. Somehow, I knew you would still be there. So, I rose in the middle of the night and snuck out to the clearing on my own to pick up my sword. First, it was the wooden sword you gave me, then my first metal cast......"
"......You were my spiritual guidance."
"But, after entering the Baichuan Academy examinations for the first time, and I was rejected, I spent half my time doing community work with my father to and from his expeditions to the Capital. Training to be the best qualifier and then the best martial artist was one thing, but it's another to be on the ground, face-to-face......"
"I felt the closest to Li Xiangyi then. Father and I would stay at our outpost residences on the road, and I would sneak out in the evenings in disguise. They were just small stunts, finding a resident's lost dog or cat, a missing pot heirloom......"
Fang Duobing smiled, "But, if I had known you were the White-Clothed Hero under different circumstances, I would have told you earlier we were a match."
"On the day I turned eighteen, another year Baichuan Academy weaved an excuse to not admit me, I gazed up at your portrait at your altar and found, I didn't want you to guide me if I were to find you."
"I wanted to protect you as much as you guarded me."
"And, I thought I had enough to keep you......"
"I waited ten years and found you. I could wait ten more......"
Li Lianhua's hand patted Fang Duobing's hair one soothing beat after another, the rhythm falling deep into his heart like rain drops on a plain that finally saw precipitation. Fang Duobing's eyes closed and opened again heavily as though he were in a dream within itself.
"Xiaobao, you've set out dried mugwort on the porch?" It was Li Lianhua's remedy for keeping the evening insects and bad omens away.
"And, you've pickled mustard greens under the kitchen counter." It was their favourite topping for when they craved extra flavour over their clear broth noodle soup staple.
"Winter has arrived. The white, pink, and red plum blossoms......"
"Xiaohua."
Fang Duobing shook himself from his stupor before Li Lianhua's words could send him back to the present, conscious realm. He felt all around, searching for Li Lianhua's slender wrist.
"Don't leave."
"I won't."
Fang Duobing mapped Li Lianhua's hand in his, every crevice, every shape, and every line, as though he could imprint it in his heart for as long as forever. His thumb caressed his palm in the same reassuring rhythm that Li Lianhua continued to brush his hair, reluctant to let go.
"Duochou-gongzi's hundred cases......"
"I travel to ten remote villages in ten months for a week long each. I'm a private detective now...... but Shi-jiejie occasionally sends me a profile of long and forgotten cases.”
"Eerie legends, unexplainable mysteries, like we used to, usually of missing women. But I discerned, not everyone wants to be found. Some have gone for good reason to escape a land that refused to acknowledge their existence and worth beyond selfish gains and fears. We must listen for the voices they've left behind."
"I have two months off a year......"
"And, travelling in between brings me splendid sights I've never seen before......"
"Li Lianhua, in spring, the pear blossoms prosper and leave behind a gentle scent on every fabric. In summer, the loquats are ripe to be plucked, peeled, and enjoyed with a companion. In autumn, the fish swim upstream and can be prepared delicious in any way. And, in winter, the plum blossoms must be picked in the early morning when they've opened just halfway. Preserve them in porcelain until summer......"
"......Xiaohua, I do live well."
"My feet tread on every day. Originally, it was so I could retrace where we had gone together, thinking one day you'll appear out of the memories that I can't let go. But, I've made new paths...... I'm a travelling detective. Su Xiaoyong, too, up-and-coming jianghu student physician. You'll be happy to hear we’ve both grown up."
"Xiaohua, we've always found each other walking on our own paths. If you want to come back, that's where I'll be. And, the plum blossoms recipe was from your playbooks I kept. I haven't seen them to summer, yet. You were always better at keeping track of the seasons......"
"The pages spelled, when summer arrived, uncover the vase and add three to four blossoms to a teacup with some honey. Submerge in boiling water...... and flowers that were once in half bloom would float to the surface in full as if encountering life once again......"
Li Lianhua hummed, his strokes slowing to a faintly perceivable pulse.
"Hulijing...... she misses you often. Not long ago when we traversed the riverbed, she saw two bear cubs on the other side collecting chestnuts. I ushered us away before the mother bear could appear, but she curled up next to the seat you always had tea and fed her snacks from. She wouldn't budge until I brought back the roasted chestnuts that you loved in autumn......"
Fang Duobing squeezed his frail hand one last time. Li Lianhua's voice was but a whisper now.
"Hulijing will be good."
"She will."
"Xiaobao, be brave."
"I will."
Fang Duobing awoke to the brisk winter air. His hands were nestled safe under the soft covers, warmth lingering at every thread of fabric where they were touched. It was still all around, not the silence of solitude at a graveyard that could gnaw at your limbs but one that painted a day brighter than the one before. He blinked, scrunching his eyes slightly at the rays refracting through the window slit. It was a crisp, crystal white.
The first snow.
As he pushed himself up, and the fabrics around him rustled, the all-too-familiar pitter-patter of paws on wooden floor sounded a room away. He dug out the worn blanket he had held tenderly in his hands as he dreamt all night long from under the pile at his lap. On one of his last mornings with Li Lianhua, Fang Duobing awoke to it after one-too-many drinks tucked over him like a cocoon. It had smelled like Li Lianhua then—
A gentle weight burrowed against him.
Just Hulijing and him now.
Winter had begun, but Fang Duobing was not alone. The cozy crackle of coal in the brazier, a fuzzy companion who wouldn't stop wagging her beige tail, and the serene snowflakes that swirled and glided, piling up like the stone that had settled within him, never so far out of reach. The first snowfall was meant for reunions and promises, but although he could not wake to see the person he desired lying beside him, Li Lianhua's imprints were abundant over his beating heart, on their marks on the world, and in every step and path he would take. He would always carry that with him against the impermanence of time.
"Xiaohua."
Hulijing barked and then purred contently in tandem, as though calling for Li Lianhua, too. Fang Duobing hoisted Hulijing up and close, embracing and cajoling her about what they could have for breakfast today.
"We'll see you again."