Work Text:
Shi Qingxuan gazed upon the ocean. The vast view across the slate-grey mirror under a pale, reluctant sun and the rhythmic roar of the waves soothed his mind.
He was sitting on the edge of a steep cliff, a good walk from the bustling streets of the Imperial capital, overlooking the ocean. A place he had found a few months ago, and had visited often since. It was quiet here. Here he could be alone with his thoughts, and he had found himself drawn to it more and more these past weeks.
A gentle breeze from the sea played with his long hair, whispering low and mournful. But despite the wind carrying the bite of late autumn in its breath, boding the coming winter, Shi Qingxuan didn’t feel cold. The wind was like an old friend, it had been a part of him for so long that it couldn’t harm him despite having lost his divinity. Here in this place, where the wind met the water, creating waves, rising, cresting, and collapsing in a never-ending dance, Shi Qingxuan remembered.
He remembered another life. A life full of luxury and carelessness. A life full of lies and naivety. A life not meant for him. Looking back at it now, almost two years after losing everything, he could hardly see himself in those memories anymore. It was like looking at the life of a different person. He wasn’t that person anymore, he should never have been that person.
Still, he missed some things from that time. It would be a lie to say otherwise. Controlling the wind, being able to travel in seconds – it was an ordeal to cover even the shortest distances with his bad leg nowadays – being able to change into a female form,…
But most of all, he missed those who had been closest to him. He had surrounded himself with many people back then, but only two had truly been there for him for centuries. And yet he had taken them for granted, never seeing beyond appearances. Both had betrayed him. But he had been too blind to see the signs. Too ignorant to see their struggles. Too naive to ask the important questions. And now he was alone.
Both were dead.
Both had died because of him.
Only one was still around. And he never wanted to see Shi Qingxuan again.
Shi Qingxuan watched a wave crash violently into the cliff he was sitting on and wondered how it would feel to be the target of its might.
His life was simpler now. It was harsh, but sufficient. Every day he felt the struggles of mortality. His bad leg and arm made even the simplest chores straining. But working hard every day to earn a meal was, in a way, satisfying. He had learned to be grateful for the smallest things.
He wouldn’t complain. He was content. However, there was an emptiness within him that couldn’t be filled. He was still surrounded by people – mortals these days, rather than gods. Beggars like him. ‘Old Feng’, they were calling him, and he had become a popular member among their midst. And yet he was lonely.
Every now and then, His Highness would visit him, bringing him food or clothes or other things he needed. And while Shi Qingxuan was grateful, he found that he couldn’t stay in His Highness’ company for too long. The bliss and pure joy he could see in Xie Lian ever since Crimson Rain Sought Flower had returned caused a painful sting inside his own heart every time. And Shi Qingxuan hated himself for feeling that way. His Highness had only ever helped him, he had been through so much worse himself, which Shi Qingxuan surely did not even know half of. He truly deserved all the happiness in the world. But even so, it reminded Shi Qingxuan so much of what he had lost.
Shi Qingxuan took his fan from his robes and looked at it as the waves kept rolling in and the wind picked up speed.
Ever since it had been returned to him, he had kept it close. He couldn’t use its powers anymore, but it was a reminder of who he had once been. A reminder of his sins and his naivety. A reminder of his brother and his best friend. A reminder of a stolen fate and a stolen life.
In the first few months, there had been so much turmoil inside him, and the fan had only fueled his chaotic emotions. He had screamed, cried, despaired. He had been angry, at his brother, at his best friend, at himself. He had felt betrayed, he had hated himself.
Until one day, all those feelings were gone and he was just empty. When he looked at the fan now, all he felt was a deep void. And yet there was still something inside him that wouldn’t let him part with it, either.
He tucked the fan back into his robes and let his eyes wander back to the ocean.
He Xuan had been on his mind a lot these days. The last time he had seen him was when he had returned the fan to him. And that had been more than a year and a half ago. Shi Qingxuan didn’t know if he wanted to see him again, and he had no idea what he would even say to him. So maybe it was better like this. Better not to see him at all than to see the hatred, or worse, the indifference, in the ghost’s eyes when he looked at Shi Qingxuan.
Sometimes, he felt he was being watched and imagined running into He Xuan. He never did, though, feeling both relieved and disappointed at the same time. And then he felt stupid for even thinking that He Xuan might be keeping an eye on him. It was clear that he would never want to see him again.
At times, Shi Qingxuan wondered if He Xuan was still around at all. His revenge – his reason for becoming a ghost, his tether for staying in this world – had been fulfilled. So perhaps he had dispersed himself, maybe his ashes now rested alongside his family. For some reason, this idea terrified him more than the possibility of He Xuan still seeking revenge against Shi Qingxuan. But he didn’t dare ask Xie Lian or Hua Cheng about He Xuan.
And so, he often found himself here at this spot, watching the waves crash against the shore, wondering what He Xuan might be doing, and if he was even allowed to think about him.
What did a Ghost King do after reaching his goal? Did he still have eyes in the Heavens, or had he withdrawn to his own domain? Was he building a new life for himself, free from the disguise he had donned in his quest for revenge? Could he be working on his reputation as a terrifying Ghost King, so that the Heavens would fear him more than seeking retribution for deceiving them and killing one of their own? Did he throw lavish parties now, surrounding himself with followers and admirers?
Or was he lonely too?
Did he sometimes think about Shi Qingxuan?
Shi Qingxuan couldn’t imagine He Xuan as a king ruling over terrified subjects, and even less as an outgoing host of social gatherings, he had never been the type to enjoy such things. But then again, how much did Shi Qingxuan even know about the real He Xuan? He had only ever known Ming Yi. And that had been a fake. How much of it had been He Xuan?
The fallen god sighed deeply, the wind carrying the sound away.
Now that he thought back, he had never really tried to get to know the person he had claimed to be his best friend. It had always been him who had chattered about everything, dragging Ming Yi wherever Shi Qingxuan wanted to go. He thought they had been so close, but what had he ever truly known about Ming Yi? Had he ever asked him about his past? Had he ever listened to his opinions?
The wind was changing directions now and the gusts that tore at his robes were growing stronger, pulling him towards the roaring sea below.
He was tired. He didn’t sleep well – nightmares kept him awake most nights – but this exhaustion went deeper. It was part of him now. And not from of the struggles he put his injured, mortal body through during the day. Nor was it from the lack of sleep at night caused by dreams where he relived his brother’s death, which woke him in fear and panic, or the dreams of the lost past he had shared with Ming Yi, which left him longing and grieving.
No, this exhaustion went beyond any physical ailments. The loneliness and the memory of what – who – he had lost gnawed at him every day, and he couldn’t shake the guilt he felt for the part he had played in all this. Sometimes he felt like choking on it and it was on days like this that he sought this place out.
The fallen god watched the turbulent waters below. The strong, shifting gusts of wind set the sea into restless motion, sculpting towering waves and sending them crashing down in a symphony of thunder. It was a terrifying yet beautiful dance that Shi Qingxuan found himself drawn to. How easy it would be to let go, to let himself be drowned by these forces of nature. Let the water swallow him so that he could be one with it, never to separate again. Just a little push…
But no! This was not the way to go. He may not have known Shi Wudu and He Xuan as well as he should have, but he knew he would dishonor their sacrifices if he threw away the life they had given him. So he would endure, remembering the lost past, cherishing the time he had with those he had treasured, even if it had been under false pretenses and he had been too ignorant to see it.
Not for the first time, Shi Qingxuan wondered if things could have been different. If he had listened more, could he have picked up on the signs? Could he have figured out the truth sooner and would it have made a difference? He often thought back to those last days of ignorant bliss. Ming Yi – He Xuan – had given him choices. Choices that his brother had never given him. But Shi Qingxuan hadn’t listened, not really. Not until it was too late. And every time he had made the wrong choice.
In retrospect, it had seemed as if He Xuan had tried to give him an opening, a chance to realize the truth sooner, to escape or maybe… to change things. Several times. Maybe even long before. But even if Shi Qingxuan had known the truth earlier, would he have made a different choice? Would he have turned against his own brother? Shi Wudu had tried to protect him all his life. Could he have stayed out of this matter between his best friend and his brother that involved him so much? He was the one whose fate had been swapped with He Xuan’s. He had ascended to a life of luxury and ease while He Xuan had tragically lost his family, his love, and his life.
If he had known… He never would have wanted that. Someone else to suffer instead of him? Four lives lost so that he could live in happiness? Never would he have chosen that. But knowing the truth of what had happened… would it have changed anything? Could he have changed anything?
He had loved his brother. He had loved his best friend. How could he have chosen between the two?
Shi Qingxuan didn’t know the answer to that. And it didn’t matter anymore. He couldn’t change the past. What had been done was done, and it had cost him both of them. He would miss them both for as long as his mortal body allowed him to live.
He would never see his brother again. For he had been killed for his sins, and his severed head was hidden away somewhere, never to be found.
He would never see his best friend again. For he was done with the Shi brothers and never wanted to see the one who had stolen his fate ever again.
Shi Qingxuan felt a single tear running down his face. And just before it fell, the wind picked it up and carried it towards the crushing waves below, feeding it to the mass of water.
The former Wind Master sent a prayer to each master of water, knowing that neither of them would hear him anymore, but hoping that both of them were doing well.
The sun was beginning to set when Shi Qingxuan decided to return to the city. The air was getting much cooler now, but the wind had calmed down, creating only small ripples on the water’s surface now that shimmered in the setting sun.
Spending most of the day here on this cliff overlooking the ocean had cleared some of his swirling thoughts. He wasn’t happy – he would probably never truly be again – but being here, in a place that reminded him so much of both Shi Wudu and He Xuan, and allowing himself his feelings for both of them, despite everything that had happened, made breathing a little easier and he felt like he could go on for another day, and then maybe another.
There would always be something missing and he knew he could never be the person he once had been – he didn’t want to be – but that was alright. He was grateful for what he still had and he would continue to live this life his brother had given his own for and his best friend had let him keep. He treated it as a gift from the ones he had and still loved the most. And when one day he met either of them again, in this life or the next, he would apologize and thank them.