Chapter Text
Xie Lian did not expect his poor luck to continue even after his cursed shackles were shattered. He understood that his problems would not go away instantly after his San Lang swiftly broke free from the accursed shackles, but he expected his bad luck to reduce. At least by a small amount. But when he awoke alone, on a bed he knew wasn't his- their's, he couldn't help but sigh and cross another bad occurrence off his mental count. How many was it again? Definitely outnumbered the centuries he has lived, that's for sure.
His eyesight cleared as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, stretching his arms slightly, feeling his muscles tighten. When he peered up, he was confused by the off-white silk of the canopy drapes hung above his bed. When he was renovating their cottage, he never hung up a canopy? He pulled himself up, taking his eyes off the canopy and took in the room he was in.
Oh. It was his old bedroom.
His old bedroom?! What was he doing in his old bedroom?!
It had been ages since he had ever seen the place for obvious reasons, but he would never, ever misunderstand this location.
This was the room he'd stay up late at night in to read about the different fighting techniques used in history, the room he found out his red coral pearl was missing. He gazed down at his attire, and sure enough, he wasn't donning his old worn-out cultivator robes, but a smooth silky inner-robe. His white inner robes was beautifully crafted, with golden accents sewed into the loose sleeves hanging off his slender arms.
He got out of the sandalwood bed and headed to his vanity, his reflection confirming his suspicions. His gaze was not met with the current him, but the past him! That embarrassing, pampered, and naive Crown Prince!
He'd always jest that if he could go back in time, he would probably throttle himself, but this wasn't the experience he imagined. His gaze traced his features: high brows, appealing eyes on the cusp of hazel or a more golden hue, and hair that was more brownish than usual and slightly shorter than he was used to.
Every second he spent examining himself, every second, he felt himself die inside. Officials remain the same age they were when they ascended, so Xie Lian didn't appear much different, but it was clear when he rubbed his fingertips together and didn't feel the callouses, and the way his eyes glistened with the naivety of a youth, that his years of experience that reflected on his body had been washed away. It was a nightmare!
Xie Lian understood he was supposed to figure out what had even happened to lead him to this bad of a situation. Maybe he was having one of those hyper--realistic dreams he sometimes had. Or maybe it was a hallucination? But before he could gather his scattered thoughts, there were two loud knocks on the door. And he knew who they belonged to.
“Your Highness? Are you awake?”
“You told us yourself to wake you up earlier for rehearsal.”
He recognized the two youthful voices, one respectful and one slightly harsh, as Feng Xin and Mu Qing. But what rehearsal..?
He sprang out of bed, throwing on his snow-white boots that were carelessly thrown around the room. God, he was so embarrassing when he was young. Maybe he could still throttle himself. "Uh, yes! Please give me a moment." He answered, quickly garnering his open hair, tying it up in his signature half-up, half-down manner. Old habits die hard.
"Your Highness-"
"Mu Qing! You can't just open the door!"
"..You should wash-"
"I apologise on behalf of him, your Highness-"
"Can't you be quiet for a few-"
They really had to do this right off the bat, didn’t they?
Surpressing a sigh, Xie Lian rose up and walked to stand between the two, leveling them with the same look he typically gave when telling them to recite idioms. It effectively shut them up. "Okay, alright. Let it be."
"As I was saying," Mu Qing began, turning to stare pointedly at Feng Xin as he drawled out the last word, "Please go wash up so I can help you get ready for rehearsal."
Ah right, rehearsal.
Rehearsal?
Apparently, he said it out loud, because Mu Qing struggled to mask his disbelief after hearing him. Feng Xin tapped Xie Lian on the shoulder to catch his attention, “Your Highness, you were so excited for this event once you were assigned your role. How could you forget..”
However, despite Mu Qing's obvious weirded out expression, he answered, “The Shangyuan festival.”
Damn it all!
The Shangyuan festival? If this was a dream, please somebody wake him up! Sap him awake, pour water on him, whatever the method! Why was he dreaming about this? This wasn't the usual stream of plot his past dreams usually followed. Where was the horror? The feeling of dread? Where was the-
“Your Highness?”
Feng Xin's concerned voice interrupted his string of thoughts, bringing him back to reality. He blinked, clearing his throat, "..Yeah?"
With the look on both of their faces, it was clear that he wasn’t doing a good job pretending to be normal. He rubbed his temples, closing his eyes and pretending he was having some sort of headache– anything to excuse his irrational behaviour. “Uh, I’m sorry. I was too excited to sleep last night, and only got a few hours of rest.” He blurted out.
That horrible excuse must’ve been believable to some degree with the way Mu Qing subtly rolled his eyes and sighed, “I told you to sleep earlier. How will you do well at the ceremony when you’re tired?”
Xie Lian nodded, trying to hide the disbelief that his acting was passable, and spoke, “You’re right, the fault is mine.”
Feng Xin chimed in, “Your Highness, let’s get ready.”
Mu Qing and several other stylists assisted him with his clothes--which he truly wanted to dress himself! And he really did try. But surviving for eight centuries with only two sets of bland cultivator robes that were worn out from wash highly contrasted the costume he was putting on now. All of those layers and accessories were difficult for him to put on himself. When Mu Qing noticed him struggling with layering the outer robes, he snorted and went to help.
After the clothing was ready, it was time for cosmetics. Because he already looked fine without it, the stylists insisted on simply adding some highlights and lip balm. Nothing really extravagant.
Xie Lian sat in front of his vanity, too busy staring off into the distance– purposefully away from the mirror– as he thought about what to do. He pinched himself on the forearm, biting back a sigh of distress when he felt the sting. So it wasn't a dream.
He found himself digging his nails into his cuticles, picking at his fingernails until they reddened with irritation, his sleeves acting as a cover from the sight. Ruoye would have snuck from under there, twirling around his fingers to prevent him from picking at them. Then, it would turn it’s “head” towards him, like it was scolding him. But it didn’t. It wasn’t with him.
“Your Highness,” A stylist gently called his attention, her voice sweet and patient, “Please look ahead.”
Xie Lian nodded and whispered an apology, turning his head to face whom he didn’t want to.
But wait..
It was his reflection indeed, but the reflection wasn’t showing him what he used to be, but what was him after his fall!
He schooled his expression, studying the grime state of his robes in the reflection, how his eye bags were the color of coal, how he used a bandage to shamefully cover the lower half of his face. How he was such a failure.
He moved his gaze to one of the stylists beside him, deciding to ignore the reflection. But once he moved his gaze back to the mirror, it returned to normal. How strange.
Paying it no mind, Xie Lian stood up from the stool once the stylists allowed him. He was about to pass Mu Qing when he suddenly remembered something. He knew that he was going to arrive a little later to the Shangyuan festival for some extra grand entrance– since in the past, he was so excited to perform. But the present him knew that Mu Qing almost got in trouble because of a misunderstanding with the.. Guoshi? He didn’t really remember anymore, but since he was experienced and already lived through this, he was able to prevent the headache, so he turned around and went to go to look for his Guoshi.
However, Feng Xin stopped him, looking confused, “Your highness, the training ground is that way.”
Xie Lian was about to sigh. “I’m looking for Guoshi.”
Mu Qing noticed them speaking, and went over to listen in too, “What for?”
Hearing this, Xie Lian turned to him, his expression slightly sympathetic, “Just to make sure he approves of and understands the entrance I will make.” He decided to blurt out, before turning and running away down the hall.
Feng Xin and Mu Qing blinked.
….
During the Shangyuan festival, everything was the exact same, plus the way Xie Lian was even more graceful during his show, with practiced ease and yet precise like a cultivator with years of experience. But the most important blessing he was waiting for, didn't slip and fall from the railings above.
It was strange; If he really was somehow back in the past, a little boy wrapped in bandages should’ve fallen into his arms already, but as the ceremonial marching parade continued on just as it was supposed to before Hong'er fell, he knew that something was off. It was a cruel reminder that Hua Cheng really was gone.
As he turned and parried off the “Ghost” clad in black, he continued the ceremony as if nothing happened, which was a little unsettling. If this really wasn't a dream, and he somehow travelled back to the past, Hong'er was definitely supposed to fall by now.
He parried off a strike from Mu Qing's zanbato, feeling that familiar sense of thrill wash over his body whenever he sparred. However, when he caught sight of a familiar face above, he realised that Hong’er not falling was not the only difference.
He saw a young man dressed in a light turquoise brocade with a necklace, looking uninterested and leaning back in his seat next to the King and Queen. (Him and Xie Lian shared the same similarity of refusing to look at them.)
This young man was no more than fifteen or sixteen, his face was pale and his furrowed brows black, rather good looking, but his face was twisted into a rather uncomfortable expression, almost as if he was glaring at Xie Lian.
Xie Lian couldn’t bear to look at the person anymore, especially since he knew his late parents were in the same line of sight. He was afraid to look. He was afraid and he wouldn't dare. If he looked, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from his eyes glistening, but even thinking about it made him feel heavy.
He decided to continue paying attention to the sparring match, watching how Mu Qing continued to play the role of the ghost languidly, swinging the zanbato, pretending to slaughter humans. On either sides of the Martial Avenue, crowds were going wild like a sea of crashing waves. Hundreds and thousands of men and women alike so excited they pushed against the royal guards, wanting to approach closer to their Prince.
They were cheering for the very man that brought them to their demise.
It unsettled Xie Lian, listening to their excited cheers. So, he ignored them. He focused entirely on the familiar heavy feeling of the handle in his hands, falling into a rhythmic dance that always managed to soothe his neurotic nerves. The crowds burst with renewed excitement when they noticed Xie Lian’s extra efforts, creating a flourish that showcased his beauty, but having a sharp undertone, representing his Martial power. Mu Qing, after noticing the sudden change in their sparring, increased his strength too, swinging his zanbato effortlessly.
Upon the grand stage, two forms, one white, one black, faced each other. Each with their own weapon in hand, Official and Ghost would finally face off.
…
When Mu Qing, with his ghost mask on, clutched his ‘wound’, stumbled back a few steps, struggling for a moment before finally thud falling to the ground when he drove the sword to his abdomen, he finally marked the finish of the ceremonial performance.
Xie Lian was finally away from everyone, except Mu Qing and Feng Xin. They were accompanying him as he walked down the luxurious hallway and back to his room. Although Xie Lian acted like normal, and wasn’t giving any indication that something was bothering him at all, his mind told a different tale. When the other nobles and his Guoshi praised him for the successful ceremony without any problems, it left a bitter taste in his mouth. Hong’er wasn’t a problem. What was a problem was the fact that he was here at all!
He first had to figure out what caused the change of his reflection in the mirror, why Hong’er didn’t fall, and how he even got into this position in the first place.
“Your Highness?”
The title broke his line of thoughts, turning to look at Feng Xin, who was looking at him with an equally confused expression as Mu Qing. Sigh, they never brush things off, don't they? Xie Lian gave them a beaming smile. He was sure he gave lots of them in the past.
Once Feng Xin realised that Xie Lian was waiting for him to continue, he started, “Your Highness, are you alright? We thought you’d be more ecstatic that everything went well-”
“You’re acting weird.”
“Mu Qing! You-”
Xie Lian muffled Feng Xin’s mouth before he could say anything, looking at Mu Qing with a slightly apologetic expression, “I’m fine. Just tired. Remember? I didn’t sleep well.” He looked back at Feng Xin, who looked like he’d just been betrayed, his protests unheard as Xie Lian’s mouth ceased him from speaking.
“Speaking of, I am sure you both are tired too, and should go rest. Especially Mu Qing,” He smiled at Mu Qing, “You did very well. You’d suit a sabre.”
Mu Qing’s eyes widened, looking taken-aback, before looking away. Xie Lian and Feng Xin knew him well enough to know that the blush rising up his neck and tainting his ears was because of embarrassment- and because he was pleased.
Without waiting for a response, Xie Lian waved at them and ran away before they could catch up to him.
After Mu Qing’s fluster, he schooled his demeanour, looking at the retreating white figure, “Did all that excitement from before burst a brain cell? He’s acting strange.”
Meanwhile, Xie Lian closed the door behind him, letting out a deep sigh. Did he really have to time travel to the time before the festival? He shuddered as he remembered the endless praise the crowds- his people gave him. Singing praises that he didn’t deserve to be sung to.
He walked up to the mirror at his vanity, half-expecting to see the banished form of his in the reflection, but it looked normal. Maybe it was some hallucination. He couldn’t tell.
That outer white robe of the costume was of high quality, the threads delicate and exquisite, the fringes sewn with intricate light golden patterns.
He wanted it off.
He wanted it off.
He wasn't their Prince anymore, nor was he someone they could rely on; he felt like an imposter in disguise. His fingers violently untied the layers and layers of robes, and the weight of the accessories lifted off of him, almost as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. After removing his outer robes, he reached to remove the golden crown that symbolized royal authority and wealth. It felt wrong to wear it.
He went to sit down on his bed, kicking off his boots as he did so. He knew that he was reliving his past, and that he was going to have to until he figured out how to get out of it, but for the meantime, he tried to recall what happened afterwards.
Oh, he had to see his parents.
…
He descended down the mountain with Feng Xin and Mu Qing in tow.
Once they reached the foot of the mountain, right outside the giant mountain gates, they saw a shining, golden carriage. Xie Lian remembered that it was Qi Rong’s carriage, mainly because of the horrific ride they went through, but there was no Qi Rong inside. Honestly, thank goodness for that. That one ride with Qi Rong was enough for a lifetime.
Mu Qing and Feng Xin didn’t pay it any mind, since it wasn’t unusual for nobles to park their carriages here and there, but once they saw how Xie Lian was staring at it, they stopped walking.
“Your Highness, are you tired of walking?” Feng Xin asked, ever the concerned one.
Xie Lian shook his head frantically, almost dislodging his headpiece- much to Mu Qing’s horror, “No, no. Just curious.”
With every single moment that he was reminded of his Princely status back then, how everyone attended to every whim he threw out, he wanted to dig a hole with his bare hands, crawl inside, and just die. Although, on second thought, he would probably be fine with just dying on the ground. He’s been in a hole long enough, courtesy of his past disciple.
The Palace of Xianle was the most distinguished place in the entirety of Mount Taicang. Traversing through the large courtyard, walking down the crimson hallway, masterpiece paintings hung all around, and soft music wafting in the air, creating the illusion of paradise.
Did Xie Lian mention he wanted to die?
As he stood outside the doors to where his mother would be, he felt lightheaded. Despite the meditation and long, grueling hours at night trying to convince himself to not feel upset, he felt the blood drain from his body. It was until Mu Qing and Feng Xin were staring at him weirdly, one more concerned than the other, that he realised that he took a good few steps back.
How could he face his mother after causing her death? How could he face his mother at all?
Xie Lian took a deep breath, relaxing his furrowed brows as he pushed open the doors.
The Queen was resting at the QiFeng Manor, leaning on a small tea table tasting new leaves. Xie Lian knew that she was aware of his visit long before they even descended down the mountain by the smile on her face and her crescent shaped eyes, and it only caused him more pain. She extended both arms before her son even walked near and said, “Finally willing to come home to see mom?”
It wasn’t long before Xie Lian walked across the room and embraced her.
He buried his face against the crook of her neck, blinking rapidly to try and stop his eyes from swelling up with tears. He focused on the feel of his mother’s body, how his nose picked up the faint scent of her jasmine. But at the same time, he wanted to pull away from her. He didn’t deserve to hug her, not when they parted on bad terms.
His mother embraced him back, only causing him more conflicting emotions. She gave a little laugh, and asked, “How come you haven't visited recently?”
Xie Lian mustered up the courage to finally look at her face, studying the features of his late mother. It was nice to be able to finally remember what she looked like. All his memories were blurry, and he didn’t want to think about his parents anyway. “I.. am sorry.” He found himself blurting out, but he meant every word.
The queen grumbled, “What a heartless child. Even Rong-Er knew to keep an old woman like me company but here you are sounding all self-righteous when you haven’t come home for two months.”
Xie Lian hoped he could have watched her grow old. Not in the manner that she appeared disheveled and wrecked from stress, which made her appear older than she was during banishment, but in the natural way, wishing he could have seen her age by the day.
But, at the mention of Qi Rong, he couldn’t help but remember the young man, staring at him with a stiff expression rather than with the sheer awe he remembered. “Speaking of.. Where is he?”
The Queen smiled, “He’s in his room. Now,” She led Xie Lian to the tea table, “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”
As much as Xie Lian yearned to stay, yearned to reconnect with his mother, yearned for another chance to be with her once more, he just couldn’t. His chest tightening wasn’t a good start to answering the question, however, and the shortness of breath wasn’t a great secondary either. His fingers started to hurt, only after he unconsciously picked at them. He looked down at his fingers, spotting the increase of hangnails and uneven nails.
“Lian’er?” His mother’s worried tone of voice made him snap his head right up.
“Mother, I am afraid I cannot join you as of now,” Xie Lian said with a face he could only hope was a worry-free smile. “I need to lecture Qi Rong about something, so is it alright if you could host my two friends?” He gestured at Feng Xin and Mu Qing who were guarding the doors outside. Hearing this, Feng Xin lit up, while Mu Qing shrank away, trying to get out of sight.
The Queen looked a bit confused, but soon gave Xie Lian a big smile, “Well, alright.”
Xie Lian beckoned Feng Xin and Mu Qing over, before turning and running down the lavish halls of the Xianle Palace he itched to run out of, and maybe burn it down for good measure. Before his people did. It had been long since he had been here, twisting and turning in the halls of the Palace, as if it was an endless maze. What a bringer of misfortune he was..
While making his search, he accidentally ran head-first into a younger person, almost tripping over them. He stumbled back, ready to make an apology when he was interrupted with a loud, “Watch where you’re goin! This ancestor..” The younger man was slightly shorter than Xie Lian, donned in a dark turquoise brocade covered with jewels with an emerald-accented headpiece that held up his silky hair, like an inky waterfall cascading down his back. Once the man fully turned around to tell off what he thought was a servant, all the insults were swallowed back down when he saw Xie Lian, his expression caught off-guard for a moment.
It was only for a moment though, because he was Qi Rong, and Qi Rong never kept his mouth shut. But it was because of that, that Xie Lian realised that there really was something wrong with this Qi Rong. The young cousin of his in the past was such a big flatterer, and often ridiculed anybody who glanced at Xie Lian, since apparently, his main insult was that a frog’s eyes shouldn't be looking at a swan, or something like that. So how come this cousin of his would look at him with more disgruntlement than anybody had before?
“Cousin Crown Prince.” Qi Rong called, with false enthusiasm, and a false smile- or, well, something that was supposed to resemble one.
Xie Lian mirrored his expression with a smile of his own, “This ancestor?” He repeated. It was when Qi Rong’s face visibly dropped when Xie Lian realised that there really was something going on. Was Qi Rong also put in the same situation?
Xie Lian decided to test it out before acting any further. He took a step forward, noting how Qi Rong sucked up his chest and (tried to) act as normal as he could. Then, Xie Lian leaned down, whispering, “Would you like to try some of the food I made? It's congee.”
Qi Rong fell to his knees.
“Blegh! Absolutely not! Absolutely fucking not! Your congee is chewy and hard! I'd rather shit in my hands and clap..”
His gig was out!
Xie Lian wasn't too troubled by Qi Rong’s words, he knew that his food was atrocious when he somehow made Black Water faint when he ate his dish, and he was a supreme.
Looking at Qi Rong’s even more terrified face made him almost laugh if he wasn’t so plagued about the circumstances. This wasn’t right, they weren’t supposed to be in this timeline. “So,” He found himself speaking, “You’ve also been transported to the past, somehow?” He asked, looking down at Qi Rong.
The latter was silent for a moment, before he leaned backwards and sat on his bottom, crossing his arms, “Duh? The me back then wasn’t aware of your shitty ass cooking.”
Xie Lian sighed, crouching down to meet his eye, “How long have you been here for?”
Qi Rong rolled his eyes, his tone of voice low and grudging, as if he was being held hostage, “Before that shitshow of a festival.”
So he had been affected at the same time Xie Lian had. But why? Xie Lian understood that he really did carry misfortune with him everywhere he went, but how come had Qi Rong been involved too? He tried to think of a situation where it was plausible; Maybe a curse that was misplaced? Or did Xie Lian’s luck show no bounds and roped in his cousin along with him for a joyride?
The movement of Qi Rong getting up from the marble floors regained his focus of the present. He could only sigh. How come he had been involved?
“Qi Rong. We’ve been cursed.” He chose to say, watching as his cousin’s expression changed from a slight fear of his food to one of the arrogance he was most familiar with.
“Yeah, no shit.” Qi Rong spat out, rolling his eyes as he dusted off his attire.
Xie Lian hummed, “I am sure there is a library in the Imperial City with answers to this somewhere.” He looked at Qi Rong, who had his brows furrowed and his eyes full of unease and other emotions he couldn’t name at the moment. Qi Rong spoke up, “Doesn’t Cousin Crown Prince, darling of the yadda yadda, know all about cultivation?”
Xie Lian shook his head, “I was focused on cultivation in the martial and spiritual sense, not curses.” He clarified, his face solemn as he rubbed his chin, “Especially not with something like this. A curse that reverses time? Unheard of. But we can go to the city and see.” As Xie Lian spoke, he picked a random direction and started walking. A groan was heard from behind him, the source of the voice now next to him.
“I don’t know about you, but I ain’t walking up from here.” Qi Rong declared, crossing his arms in determination. And Xie Lian knew that he was a stubborn one, and there was no use speaking to someone that feeds off of the irritation and exasperation of other people as if it was his lifeline.
“Then,” He started, keeping a composed demeanor, “How do you propose we get up the mountain?” But Xie Lian wished he hadn’t asked after seeing the familiar curve of Qi Rong’s lips into a smirk, full of mischief and destruction.
“Qi Rong, no. ”
…
Xie Lian held onto whatever he could steady himself with like it was his only choice of survival. He should’ve learnt from last time, never ever to trust Qi Rong and carriages in the same line of path. Qi Rong drove like a madman, the whip in his hand lashing nonstop, screaming who knows what, and the white horse neighed in shock, the wheels spinning frantically as they thrashed down the streets, refusing to stop no matter how much Xie Lian screamed for him to. Xie Lian, sitting in the front of the coach, grabbed the reins and sidetracked the horse from trampling a number of pedestrians and stalls set up next to the roads they were so painfully offtrack of.
Once the carriage finally slowed down in front of the Imperial City gates, Xie Lian could finally let out a sigh of relief that they didn’t kill anybody on their berserk journey. Meanwhile, Qi Rong had the audacity to look upset at the fact they didn’t hurt anyone, but that was short-lived. Qi Rong rose to his feet, one leg stepping on the white horse’s behind, and proclaimed proudly, ”Yo! You’ve never seen anybody drive like this ancestor has, huh?”
After hearing this, Xie Lian couldn’t hold in a long exhale, furrowing his brows as he grounded himself before he could wobble from the dizziness that carriage ride bestowed upon him. “I’m sure I haven’t seen anybody drive like you. You even tried to deliberately run over an elder!” He scolded in the familiar tone he slipped into whenever his cousin would misbehave.
The slightly exasperated and chiding tone of his caused a wave of familiarity to wash over Qi Rong, causing him to respond in the same way he would have back then. With an excuse.
“It’s not my fuckin’ fault that bastard was standing in the middle of the road! He was asking for it!” Qi Rong defended himself, pointing a jagged nail at Xie Lian’s face.
“He was at a stall!”
“..And?”
Xie Lian sighed, shaking his head for the nth time. After his vision regained focus and his surroundings stopped spinning, he started to walk in front of the gates. Qi Rong, after getting no response, was highly unsatisfied, choosing to fight off his boredom by glaring down at some of the guards lined up in front of the gates. One by one, they all bowed deeply at Xie Lian.
Looking at what used to be his guards bowing for him- not out of mockery, not how the thirty-three officials towered over him that day out of pure ridicule, but out of respect, was the cause for him to feel a knot in his stomach. He forgot what it was like to be deeply revered, to be respected and to have never been the focus of impertinence, to be foolishly optimistic about his future, and bear no regrets for the past. He desperately wanted to tell them to stop bowing, but the constricting feeling in his throat didn’t let him muster a word out.
“Can one of y'all open the damn gates?!” Qi Rong shouted, his voice tearing the string of heavy thoughts Xie Lian was used to having. “We don’t have all day.” He huffed, stomping to show his impatience.
Once the guards stopped bowing, two of them hastily going to open the gates, Xie Lian found himself closing his eyes and exhaling in relief. Once he opened his eyes, he noticed that Qi Rong was subtly glancing at him, as if he was studying his expression, waiting for a reaction. But once Xie Lian met his gaze with a puzzled one, Qi Rong rolled his eyes and looked away.
The two of them ventured out onto the streets of the Imperial City, where numerous stalls were set up on both sides of the roads, carriages passing them left and right. Despite the reason for their trip, Xie Lian felt his stomach rumble. He was too focused on other things, and caused his appetite to falter. He reached under his sleeve to rummage through his pockets.
The only thing he found in one was a pouch that was heavy and full of golden coins. He shoved it right back inside and laughed at himself. He didn’t have a rock-hard steamed bun in this timeline. Qi Rong noticed his laugh, and gave him a weird look.
They passed one stall that appeared to be a family business, the parents making the buns while their twin children packed and gave them out. The mother looked up at the two figures approaching, and gasped when she saw the familiar attire and mask that covered the half of his face. It was their highness! The mother nudged the father and exchanged a look, nodding as they prepared their freshest ingredients.
Xie Lian politely smiled at the pair, “Hello,” He bowed his head in respect, “Would you mind If I..” He trailed off as the children excitedly gave him a packed bun. He was slightly speechless, and turned his head to look up at the mother and father. The pair smiled brightly at him, “We thank your Highness for blessing our stall.”
If anything, Xie Lian thought as he accepted the bun, I probably cursed it.
He smiled at the twins, “I am honored to have been served by your business.” The twins, after hearing the compliment, exclaimed excitedly as they rushed up to their parents to tell them about what he said.
Xie Lian could only ignore the heavy pit in his stomach as he placed some of the gold coins onto the table before they could notice, rushing off to Qi Rong. Qi Rong was standing where Xie Lian left him, on the side of the road. His expression, although snotty, looked a little complicated, staring off to the side somewhere. Xie Lian followed his gaze to a little boy, his hair up in buns, wearing sage green robes, running around and playing with a bamboo dragonfly.
“He’s safe,” He answered Qi Rong’s unspoken question, watching as the latter’s face changed, his eyebrows softening slightly before returning to its original arch, but more furrowed.
“I didn’t say shit. Has Cousin Crown Prince finally gone crazy like me?” He scorned, ignoring the implications of what Xie Lian had answered for him, taking a step forward towards the Royal Pavilion. Xie Lian shook his head slowly in resignation and walked alongside him.
He unwrapped the bun’s cover, holding it in his hands and using his thumbs to split it into two, handing one over to Qi Rong. The latter glanced at the halved bun, before gagging in an exaggerated way. “I want to eat the twins.”
Xie Lian retreated his offer.
After a while, the two of them reached the imperial palace. The palace was luxurious, with a baroque chandelier, with opulent furnishings, and ornate tapestries, creating an atmosphere of grandeur and opulence.
Xie Lian spoke up, “The hall is very big, and it has been a long time,” He looked towards Qi Rong, “We should split up and look for it.”
Qi Rong crossed his arms with a sneer, “Can't you just ask one of your servants or something?”
“That would be suspicious, no?” He asked.
Qi Rong groaned, rolling his eyes so hard that Mu Qing would be intimidated, “Cousin Crown Prince, who fucking cares?” He scoffed, “They're all dead anyway.”
Oh, right.
Xie Lian looked around, spotting a cleaner that was dusting off the furniture with her broom. He walked up to her with a polite smile, “Excuse me,” He called to get her attention.
The cleaner turned around, her eyes lighting up when she saw him, before breaking out into a smile. “Your Highness?”
Xie Lian smiled back at her, “I’m sorry, where is the library? My mind is a bit hazy.”
The lady looked slightly confused for a moment, before pointing to the right side of the hall.
Xie Lian nodded and thanked her with a bow, much to her surprise, and dashed off with Qi Rong lazily following behind him.
The library was large, with tall beautifully constructed golden shelves around the circumference, a stained opaque glass dome in the center of the ceiling, and cylinder pillars on opposite sides of the library with a mirror in the centre. It brought out a feeling of nostalgia for him, seeing how scrolls upon scrolls were neatly organised in each section of the library, stacked on the shelves horizontally with a ribbon tying each one closed. He remembered reading all of the scrolls he could find about cultivation, getting lost in the texts depicting what his future would’ve looked like.
While Xie Lian was busy reminiscing about the past with a twinkle in his eyes, Qi Rong was busy getting ready to gripe about how they were never going to get through those scrolls, gaping at each of the shelves. “How in the fuck are we gonna find anything that will help us?!” He exclaimed in disbelief, his eyes wide as his gaze trailed over the seemingly endless halls of the library.
Xie Lian broke out of the tenth trance he had in a day, shaking his head a bit as if shaking his thoughts away. “Let’s narrow it down, then,” He looked at the different sections organised by different ribbon colors. While looking, something popped into his mind, and he spoke up, “Like, have you experienced any hallucinations of some sorts?”
When Qi Rong’s irritated face turned slightly contemplative, Xie Lian nodded, “You have,” He concluded, using the back of his right hand to support his left arm, stroking his chin. Qi Rong clicked his tongue, “Some weird ass shit happened in my mirror.”
“So maybe it is an illusion-related curse,” He mumbled, tracing the detailed floral carvings on the sides of one of the shelves towering over him, “Then we can search the section over there,” He pointed at one of the columns on a nearby shelf.
After a while of rummaging through the scrolls of the column, they couldn’t find anything other than outdated superstitions, and other mild cases of dreams being invaded by ghosts creating illusions to scare their victims. Anyhow, all useless in their case. While Xie Lian was skimming through an unimportant scroll, he found himself on the floor the next second. He was too distracted to break his fall, so he hit his head on the wooden floor.
Seeing the whole thing happen, Qi Rong broke into hysterical laughter, pointing at Xie Lian. He walked up to him to seemingly make fun of him before he tripped over something, falling flat on his face. “What the fuck?!”
Not so funny now?, Xie Lian thought to himself, politely holding back a snort. He checked what made them fall, and saw the loosened floorboard. Xie Lian ripped the board off, revealing a hidden black compartment inside. How convenient.
Qi Rong reached for it before Xie Lian could, grumbling about a bruise tainting his pretty face as he busted open the compartment. Inside was a black cylinder case. How suspicious.
Qi Rong threw away the cap and dug for the supposed scroll that was inside, but what he pulled out wasn't a scroll. Well, it was supposed to be one, but it was a very damaged one. Xie Lian saw how the scroll was torn in half, only the top part of the scroll visible to read from.
Qi Rong was going to burst his vocal chords if he groaned any louder than before. He slammed the scroll on the floor, huffing, “Seriously?!” He turned to Xie Lian, “This is all your fucking fault, misfortune bearer.”
Xie Lian politely ignored him- it wasn't the first time he had been called that. He picked up the scroll off of the floor, unraveling the cylinder-like form it took so that they could read the first part of the page. Something was better than nothing, after all.
It was like this: The Anamnesis curse makes the victim that was accursed, live out their regretful past experiences in a dream-like state. This curse was rarely used because of how much spiritual power it took to even conjure the spell, and the fact that this curse was dangerous- mostly causing both the curse placer and the victim to both be significantly weakened.
However, there was a cure for it, but since Xie Lian was a harbinger for unfortunate situations, the text was ripped just when it was about to explain the way to break the curse. Of course.
But Xie Lian knew the one who cursed him.
Qi Rong glared at the scroll, “Who dares to curse this ancestor?!”
Ah, that was right. Qi Rong definitely did have a point. Xie Lian knew that the Emperor- well, Jun Wu, wanted to push Xie Lian over the edge and finally join him as disciple and master. (He had to control a shudder.) He knew that much. But Qi Rong getting cursed too? Not so much.
Xie Lian hummed, “The text mentions something about mirrors,” He traced the jagged edge of the scroll where the text unfortunately cuts off, “That explains the weird illusions. Maybe to psychologically damage us.”
Qi Rong huffed, getting up from the spot he fell on, brushing off his attire. Xie Lian was rather proud of him for the fact that he actually didn’t cause too much trouble– besides the horrible carriage ride he never wants to experience again.
Then he heard the sound of glass shattering before his world turned dark.