Chapter Text
The moment Ning Yuanzhou got stabbed so brutally in that battle, no one believed he’d survive. Even his wife gave up on him after seeing it, leading her to go on a final suicide mission that would be the beginning of the end the war.
But deep down, Li Tongguang hadn’t given up on him. If his shifu was gone, his shizhang had to at least survive – that was his reasoning. Leader Ning was the closest person to his shifu, and he couldn’t accept letting go of the last thing that would connect him to her. Though Duke Qing had previously been loath to admit it, Ning Yuanzhou had been good to him and helped him grow as a person despite the many fronts on which they disagreed.
Besides, reasoned Li Tongguang, since his shifu was so excellent in every way, the man she’d chosen as her husband surely couldn’t be too much weaker than her.
After Ruyi set off, he went back to get changed, then walked to the city gates. Watching all the dead bodies being brought in and seeing faces of those he recognised and those that were beyond recognising caused him to furrow his brows deeply. Too many people had died – it was bound to take an emotional toll on even the strongest of men. But as regent he had to keep morale up, so he took a few deep breaths, fought down the lump in his throat and tried to school his expression, giving some sombre words of encouragement to the people entering the gates with the last few bodies.
He pulled his robe around himself tightly as he looked towards that fateful spot where Ning Yuanzhou had collapsed, kneeling for a heroically long time before finally keeling over. Everyone else had looked away and continued to battle before seeing him fall, but Li Tongguang had been unable to tear his eyes away, as if staring long enough would make him get up once again instead of falling as only the Duke himself witnessed.
There lay Ning Yuanzhou, untouched, still not brought in. It seemed there was an unspoken agreement to leave his body for last to delay having to face the reality of his death once again, after seeing it happen before their very eyes.
Shizhang, Ning tou er, Ning da ge.
All those titles he could call him went through his mind as he remembered the two times he’d called him that specific sequence. The first – quite reluctantly in battle as they had a serious talk – and the last – screamed as he’d seen him get stabbed. Very little time had passed between them but there was such a difference in how he’d said them – one had been when he was still willing to act cold, and the other had been with all the shock and pain he couldn’t hold back.
Knowing that the shifu whose husband Ning was had left and would be dead soon – forever this time – made the word shizhang hurt more. Ning Yuanzhou had acted as a leader to all the allied forces’ leaders, and seeing how demoralised everyone had become after seeing their leader get stabbed made tou er feel empty as a title. Da ge felt right: Ning had treated Li Tongguang with the kindness and patience of an older and wiser mentor. But what did titles matter except for being fancy ways to refer to a man who wouldn’t even know what people said about him if he was dead?
Delusion was futile, he full well knew that, but he couldn’t help but secretly hold on to the smallest sliver of hope that Yuanzhou might still be alive. But if he was actually dead, Duke Qing would ask the Emperor of Wu if they could jointly recognise Ning Yuanzhou and Ren Ruyi with titles from both An and Wu for the efforts they’d made for the peace of both countries. If Danyang refused, he’d give them titles from An as regent, screw bureaucracy or anything else that would deny Ning the rightful acknowledgement he deserved.
Li Tongguang stationed his guards at the gates, passing on the instructions that he’d deal with Ning’s body personally and to not let anyone near, not even to observe. Then, he left through those same gates, knowing that no one could go up on the wall at this time.
Soon, he’d reached Ning Yuanzhou and his heart wrenched at the sight before him. The stab wounds were horribly bloody, but miraculously didn’t look like they’d dragged out any major organs. Quickly scanning past those, his eyes fell on the sword gripped tightly in his hands. Duke Qing remembered hearing he’d originally played dead and planned to leave his country and any form of politics behind, but went on this mission purely to clear his brothers’ names. Even now he was unable to part with his sword, almost like fate was laughing at him, telling him he’d never exchange the life of danger for peace until he was truly dead.
He then looked up at Ning’s chest to see the name badge every Liudao member had – except it was missing. He knew it wouldn’t easily get dislodged, and his heart lurched at the thought that Ning Yuanzhou had taken it off willingly while expecting death.
He scanned the area all around, looking for the badge. Now that the bodies had been taken away it was easier to search, and soon he spotted something by the city walls. Walking closer he spotted a bit of blood staining the sandy ground on one side. On the other side, lay a shiny badge. He knelt to pick it up, and his grip tightened when he saw the familiar characters on it. Having read countless reports and records of his great achievements, that sequence of characters was basically engraved in his mind. But the envy he’d felt back then was gone. Now? He wasn’t even sure how to process his feelings into thoughts, so he simply carefully dusted both sides of the badge off using his cloak, gently traced his hand across the markings on the top, then flipped it and rubbed his thumb against the smooth side.
Something about the way that elaborately carved badge fit so well in his palm, and how the smooth metal back combined with the matte characters of Ning Yuanzhou’s name felt on his thumb, stirred his heart again. He slowly walked back, subconsciously continuing to move his thumb back and forth over the badge in his other hand like it was his lifeline, and as he reached Ning Yuanzhou once more, he glanced over at the wall then the gates to confirm no one was looking.
Facing away from the city gates, he stopped rubbing the badge only momentarily as he carefully sat by the man’s side. His shifu had told him to only spill blood and not tears, but crying privately like this should be fine, right? Now that he had confirmed he was alone, he finally was free to let himself feel the pain, starting to tear up as he hunched over as much as his thick layers would let him. He gripped Ning Yuanzhou’s badge tighter in his left fist like it was his lifeline as he wrapped his arms around himself, unable to stop the full-body shakes as waves of grief tumbled out with each stifled sob.
He looked at Ning Yuanzhou again through teary eyes, feeling his heart being torn apart once more as he finally saw the lifeless face. Li Tongguang wished he could feel those eyes staring into his soul once more, examining him inside out, but the eyes that once showed all sorts of emotions when alive were now glassy and empty.
Realising he couldn’t hold it in anymore, he let himself cry out loud, vocalising all the pain he’d been keeping in: from the loss of his shifu, his shizhang, the innocent civilians in the initial war and the various subordinates he’d lead in many battles up to and including this one. He bawled uncontrollably, uninhibited by the titles or decorum he had to maintain when everyone’s eyes were on him, letting himself process the pain he’d been keeping in for longer than he could remember.
After a long time, his shoulders finally stopped shaking and his breaths began to come out steadier. He wiped his tear-streaked face on the sleeves of his robe, then gently took off his outer cloak and lay it on Ning Yuanzhou. Putting the name badge in his own robes, Li Tongguang closed Ning’s eyes with one hand, then gently tucked his left arm in under the cloak. He tried to pry the sword from his right hand, but was unable to. Furrowing his eyebrows, he shifted a little and held his wrist, trying to tap at various acupoints in case they’d still work on a dead person. Focusing his energy, Li Tongguang gripped Yuanzhou’s wrist once more and pushed some of his internal force onto his fingers as he finally saw the death grip loosen.
Duke Qing took the sword out of his now-outstretched hand and put it carefully back in his scabbard. He gently moved Ning’s wrist down to his side, but paused, eyes widening as he felt something.
Thump.
It was extremely faint, and if he hadn’t been holding his wrist in that very specific way he wouldn’t have noticed it. Li bent close to Ning Yuanzhou’s wrist, readjusting his grip so his fingers held onto where he should feel the pulse, and listened for what felt like an eternity. Just when he thought it had been a hallucination or perhaps something triggered by the sudden flow of internal energy, he heard it again.
Thump.
Dozens of possibilities raced through his mind as to how he could have survived, but right now he wasn’t sure what was real or not. He slotted his arms under Ning Yuanzhou, picking him up with ease and almost running back to the gates. Speeding past everyone he saw without any acknowledgement, he headed straight to the field hospitals that had been set up nearby. Confused voices floated around him, wondering why he’d brought a corpse to the tent, but he paid no attention to them, instead frantically calling for a doctor.
It turned out he wasn’t wrong to have hope. After being closely examined by the field doctors, they confirmed he had a very slow and weak pulse and was just barely breathing, merely resembling a corpse to the casual observer. But he wasn’t out of danger yet, since he hadn’t woken up – only then could they assess his condition properly. For now, they simply treated him with what medicine they had and recommended the Duke find someone who’d be willing to care for Ning after the temporary hospital was closed.
Still, this news made Li Tongguang’s heart sing, and solidified his resolve to ensure the battered and bandaged man before him woke up. He sent for the best doctors from An, even asking Emperor Danyang once he arrived to recommend the best doctors from Wu, and begged the army doctors to keep an eye on him in the meantime and not give up on Ning while he was out on the battlefield.
Soon, it was time to dismantle the temporary camps and hospitals at the city wall. Li Tongguang had already made inquiries about Ning Yuanzhou’s family. From what he could gather, Ning had no living family – the closest surviving person that fit that descriptor was Yang Ying for how he’d treated her like a little sister. After discussing with Danyang, Yang Ying, and the rest of the delegation, they agreed for Yang Ying and Li Tongguang to take Ning back to An. The Wu doctor who’d agreed to go along would be personally paid for by the Emperor, despite Li’s insistence that he could cover it.
“You’re not trying to get overthrown so early in your regentship for misusing An’s funds are you?” Emperor Danyang had wryly remarked. “Your personal money is now the same as your country’s, and you understand the present instability better than I do.”
Duke Qing decided to avoid broaching the topic of honours for both Ren and Ning, but surprisingly the Emperor of Wu brought it up himself in their final meeting. It turned out that he’d given Ning Yuanzhou the title of Marquis Jingyuan and recognised Ren Ruyi as Lady Ning, but they’d rejected the honours.
“Can you keep those honours for them?” asked Duke Qing. “My shifu… I’ll have to think of a title for her, but can they both be honoured in Wu’s historical records as well as An’s?”
Emperor Danyang smiled, “No doubt they’ll be lauded in the records of our country, just as I trust Ning will be lauded in yours.”
After some discussion, they decided on the title Marquis Xuanping for Ren Ruyi. Taking a few strokes off Xin would hopefully lighten her burden and give her peace, and Ping has similar meaning to the Jing in Yuanzhou’s own title. The Xuan of Ruyi’s title also doubled as a more permanent reminder of the gathered leaders’ final promise – to announce the good deeds of all the heroes that had fought in the war and to not let them die silently.
Well wishes were solemnly exchanged, bodies all accounted for, and it was finally time for the many gathered groups to set off to their homes. It wasn’t the first time that Li Tongguang had made this journey, but it felt more bitter than ever. Having buried the barely-recognisable remains of his shifu here, he finally had to let go of the woman who’d moulded him into the man he was today.
Yang Ying and Li Tongguang had initially had a somewhat strange relationship after their marriage alliance: not quite friends, but not just acquaintances either. The man had been trying to get rid of the final remnants of jealousy towards his shimei. The turning point was after their shared grief over the loss of Ren Ruyi had them unexpectedly meet at her grave when each thought no one else was around.
Both of them had tears in their eyes – tears they’d been unable to shed in the public funeral and had saved for a later, private visit. That night, they stood side-by-side, solemnly remembering Ren Ruyi as they burned incense for their shifu. When Yang Ying screamed out loud in pain, Li Tongguang simply patted her back, wordlessly reassuring her while his own sobs echoed in his ears. He thought he’d cried enough outside the city gates, but seeing the grave brought more pain again, even if it was to a lesser intensity than before.
When she stretched her arms out questioningly, he gently pulled her in for a hug as they both fell to the ground and shed tears together, not caring for how hard their knees hit the floor or their surroundings. Seeing how the strong woman who’d asked to marry him for a political alliance had also let her guard down enough to cry in front of him only made him feel silly for ever having hated her – she didn’t have any bad will towards him and was even so trusting of him. They left their shifu’s memorial a few incense sticks lighter – and for Li Tongguang, a whole weight that was the old envy seemed to have disappeared in that warm hug before they left for An.
On the carriage ride back, Yang Ying and Li Tongguang took turns taking care of Ning Yuanzhou, perfectly in sync and stressing the doctor out with their fervent questioning. “Doctor, how is he? Is he getting better?” asked Tongguang, as desperate as the first day. A shaken head, a grim face, and prescribing more rest were the doctor’s contributions for the first few weeks after they arrived in An’s capital and set up in the palace.
Every night he’d sit for hours, patiently passing his own internal energy to the near-dead man he’d given up his bed for, then nap for a short while on a chair nearby before going about his day. It was exhausting work to rule a nation and care for someone to say the least, but as long as Ning still breathed, he’d care for him like his shifu would.
Over time, the patient began to regain the colour in his face, and the wounds on his waist began to heal. Finally, the doctor told them that Ning’s pulse and breathing were much better and all they needed to do was wait for him to wake up. Li Tongguang and Yang Ying jumped, looking at each other and clasping hands in the joy of the moment. They thanked the doctor hugely and sent him back to Wu with a letter for the Emperor.
The way Li Tongguang found out that Ning Yuanzhou had woken up was through his attendant rushing into a court meeting. He coldly stared at the intruder, “What are you doing here?”
“It’s related to the order you gave me.” Zhu Yin replied sheepishly, as Li beckoned him up. Lowering his voice and whispering in his ear, he continued, “He’s standing outside the hall – the guards that tried to stop him were all knocked out, and he only spared me for your sake.”
Despite his heart feeling like it was about to burst with joy, he kept his expression neutral and whispered back to his attendant. “I’ll meet him later, so offer to take him anywhere he wants before then. Yang Ying will be so happy to see him.” After hearing his reply, Li Tongguang furrowed his brows a bit, and with a small sigh dismissed the gathered court officials, thinking there wasn’t much left of their meeting anyway.
What Zhu Yin had said to make Li Tongguang frown was this: “I already did – he even refused to speak to Yang Ying – but he says he wants to go see her. ”
As the officials left, they bowed politely to the man that stood so stiffly in front of the doors, with those who recognised him quickly acknowledging Marquis Jingyuan by title before walking past him. Ning Yuanzhou strode into the large hallway where the court officials gathered, only pausing when he was a few metres before the desk. He bowed formally, greeting Li Tongguang as regent.
“Please stand at ease, I wouldn’t want you to bow to me like that.” said Tongguang, allowing his worry to show on his face. The regent stood and quickly moved towards the surprise guest, kneeling as he scanned his face to see if he was truly better, then grabbing his arms as he gently pulled him into a standing position.
Ning barked out a small, mirthless laugh, and said, “I must show the benevolent leader of this country my respect since I’m trapped in his capital.”
The cold and formal tone of these accusatory words twisted into Li Tongguang’s heart like a dagger. He took a shaky step back, both physically and emotionally staggered, and raised a hand to stop Zhu Yin who had already indignantly stepped forward, ready to intervene.
“No one trapped you here,” he began, trying to change his clearly pained expression into a welcoming one, “as you can tell from how easily you were able to reach this hall.”
“The number of guards who tried to stop me on the way makes me believe otherwise.” Yuanzhou returned, clearly unimpressed by the answer. “If it wasn’t for the fact that he’s your personal guard, he’d have been knocked out too.”
The last few words were said with a finger pointed lazily at Zhu Yin, but holding the duke’s gaze. The stare wasn’t intense at all, but Li Tongguang couldn’t help but feel unsettled. Perhaps it was a combination of factors that put him on edge: the way the man had purposefully come to the main hall where court was being held; the fact that he’d knocked out a large number guards so easily straight after he woke up; the way he treated him like a stranger–
Oh.
His eyes widened and his heart constricted, brain screaming that this couldn’t be happening yet again. It was eerily similar to how his shifu had acted when she was pretending to be Princess Huyang, except there was no obvious reason for Ning Yuanzhou to treat him that way. Taking a few deep breaths, he looked back once more then prompted the man to speak.
“Where is Ruyi?” As Li Tongguang stared back at him helplessly, face betraying his pain once again, Ning Yuanzhou nodded his understanding. “Did you guys win the war?” Facing more silence yet again, he asked another question, “Where is she buried?”
The answers to all three of his questions were so short – so simple. Yet Li Tongguang struggled to speak, feeling like his mouth was sealed shut by the weight of the pain on his mind. He swallowed and took a few moments to recompose himself, then quickly answered. Ning Yuanzhou’s eyes glazed over and he nodded again, robotically bowing and stepping back to leave.
“Wait, where are you going?” called Li Tongguang, confused. Ning Yuanzhou turned around and looked at him plainly, not breaking eye contact as the duke continued to question him. “You’ve only just woken up from your injury – surely you don’t mean to go all the way to He county alone and unarmed?”
“I must make the journey to pay respects to my friends and my wife. What I do from here on does not concern you.”
“What will you do after you see her?” continued Li Tongguang, frantically probing. “Where do you plan to live?” So many questions crossed his mind, but no more came out once he noticed the change in Ning Yuanzhou’s demeanour.
“I won’t die, because Yang Ying put in so much work to keep me alive. But I can’t live either.” said Yuanzhou, eyes vacant and voice devoid of emotion. “Surviving is the most I can do, since trying to live feels too difficult without someone who loves me so unconditionally like Ruyi did.”
Li Tongguang simply kept quiet, suppressing the hurt he felt. He walked back to his desk then sat down, using the slow walk back to neutralise his facial expression entirely.
“How could you say that?” came a voice yelling from the doorway.
“A’Ying?”
Yang Ying stood there, face flushed and looking slightly dishevelled from running after Ning Yuanzhou. It turned out she had been trying to catch her breath at the doorway for a while before she spoke, and had overheard part of their conversation.
“You have no right to call me that after being so rude to Duke Qing.” She spoke angrily, storming right up to Ning who had turned around in surprise.
He gave her a slight smile and reached for her head, saying, “You’ve gotten more dignified – truly fit to be the ruler of a country.”
She pulled away before he could make contact and began to pace, angrily continuing her speech at an almost inhuman speed. “I only had a small part in your recovery. Who do you think carried you back and begged the army doctors to check your corpse – we all thought you were dead – only to find the slowest and weakest pulse they’d ever seen? Who kept watch over you despite the doctors telling him it was futile and that your pulse would soon stop? Who was it that begged me to keep watch over you while he went to fight because he didn’t trust anyone else to do so, lest they bury you while he was gone?”
She took a deep breath, almost bowling over with how long she’d been speaking, and continued, “Who dealt with people badmouthing him and calling him an obsessive fool for believing you could survive? Who called doctors from everywhere to treat you and even told my brother he’d pay for the expenses himself? Who sacrificed sleep just to pass his internal energy to you, no matter how tired he was from the day?”
Taking another pause, she stopped pacing and held Ning Yuanzhou’s gaze with an intensity that pulled him out of his trance and was felt by all in the room. “It wasn’t me. I gave up on you the moment you were stabbed, but he didn’t give up even after seeing your corpse. You think you would’ve healed this fast if it wasn’t for him? No. You wouldn’t have even survived.” Yang Ying took in Ning Yuanzhou’s unreadable expression with tears filling her eyes and bowed to Li Tongguang, nodded at Zhu Yin then left the room.
Li Tongguang had already stood from his seat while Yang Ying had been monologuing, but now he walked right up to Ning Yuanzhou and bowed slightly at him, eyes clearly tinged with pain. “Zhu Yin, accompany him. Go where you need, and ask him and anyone else for what you wish. They’ll listen to you.” he said in a rush, but not so quickly that his voice came out emotionlessly, then sped out of the door after Yang Ying.
Zhu Yin gawked after his master in slight shock, then looked back at the man before him. Ning Yuanzhou simply stared into space, put in a trance again by those final words, and began to quietly mumble to himself with remorse. Feeling extremely awkward, Zhu Yin decided he’d have to speak to him at some point, so walked forward and waved, breaking the trance.
“What do I do?” wailed Ning Yuanzhou hopelessly, more of a mess than Zhu Yin had ever seen him in the time he’d been part of the delegation.
“What do you mean?” asked Zhu Yin. “You can do anything. I can take you to the graves of your wife and colleagues, as we’ve already made the journey before.”
“And after that?” He stared expectantly, to Zhu Yin’s confusion.
He hesitantly replied, with the end of the sentence going up in question, “Well, you can go wherever you want. If you want, I can find you a suitable–”
He found himself cut off by Ning Yuanzhou shaking his head with an intense stare. The next words made his eyes widen and brows rise so high they almost ascended.
“I will go to pay my respects, but I must return to apologise and repay Li Tongguang. Find me a place to stay as close to him as possible.”