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It was still early in the morning when they set off towards town, closing their temple doors behind themselves, and descending the mountain path.

Song Lan was no more than ten years of age, there was no bringing him anywhere close to actual night hunts, or severe issues ailing the townspeople around them. He was often brought along by the senior disciples on untaxing commissions or chores, to get accustomed to the town’s surroundings and neighbourhoods.

He did not mind the routine, the village was small and mostly quiet, never overwhelming: he was grateful for that.

No yelling, no carts driving recklessly through the streets, no crowds of people pressing up against him.

Getting slowly introduced to their peaceful lives by lending a simple helping hand had been the usual ritual each young disciple of Baixue had gone through; their shifu believed in building community, in strengthening bonds, so that simple villagers wouldn’t hesitate to ask for help when it was urgently needed.

Many cultivators and sects held themselves with such detachment from the mortal world that, at times, the people they were supposed to aid did not even bother to send a cry for help.

Their shifu wanted to blur those lines, break apart the disconnection so that they could all regard one another as equals, simple humans with different skills, none more important than the other.

And so, Song Lan was following his shixiong, Wan Yunliao, to carry out protection spells against the incoming wintry frost for the local farmers.

Wan Yunliao explained that they tended to wake as early as the first morning light, sometimes before that, to work on their produce and tend to their animals. That was why they could already head out before any market vendor had yet to start displaying their goods.

In the quiet of the main street, all Song Lan could hear was the occasional rattle of something, – animals, presumably – in alleys adjacent to the path they were walking.

Sometimes, he believed he saw eyes staring at him from the darker corners, ones he couldn’t pay much attention to due to his seniors pointing him towards different directions.

It wasn’t unusual to meet homeless people, or street kids, even in a town as small as that one. The same happened in the surrounding ones, where Song Lan visited only seldom as they were far more packed with citizens rather than the one closest to their temple.

Orphaned children often caused chaos for food scraps, or to rob someone to survive within the following few days … Song Lan had never been allowed to intervene, usually it was his shijie or shixiong who took care of the commotion, and he stood to the side to watch, to think his own thoughts, and then discuss the event with other temple disciples. They encouraged him to form his own opinions, to train his mind to question his own criticism at times, too.

He only disobeyed their instructions once.

There was a red-eyed scrawny boy, younger than him, who looked younger than he probably even was. His hair was a mess despite an obvious attempt at keeping them out of his face, and his clothes were soiled and full of holes, bigger than his form.

He carried an interesting gait, like he could defy the world with his trembling limbs.

Song Lan had been quite taken by that sight the first time, and had ignored the conversation his shijie had been having with a shopkeeper.

The little boy had tried to steal off an auntie with sharp eyes, who had caught him instantly, and her husband certainly hadn’t taken the matter lightly. The boy had grinned the whole time nonetheless, with a challenging stare, despite the clear intention they had to beat some sense into him.

Song Lan had moved before any coherent thought even formed in his mind, which he had been warned against in the past.

But, he had thought to himself, I’m the only one watching. I’m the only one who can intervene.

And so he had found himself between the big man and the smirking child, who’d lost his footing and displayed confusion and shock.

The same expression had been plastered on the husband’s face. It drained of colour upon setting his gaze on familiar dark robes, realising he’d just struck a Baixue disciple instead of his real target.

Song Lan hadn’t particularly cared for the pain, but the words had stuck on his tongue when he’d looked back to lecture the couple. Thinking back on it, a little child lecturing grown adults sounded very silly.

The husband had profusely apologised before his shijie even reached his side, said that he hadn’t even heard him move.

All Song Lan had wanted to do, as she resolved the matter, was look back and tell the child he would pay for his food.

When he did, there had only been an empty spot left behind himself.

His shijie had cleverly discussed the incident with him, and later that day, he had noticed his shifu sending his way a polite smile with grinning eyes during dinner.

Thankfully, there was another instance where Song Lan caught sight of him.

The boy had been all wary eyes and tense muscles, ready for a fight, although all Song Lan had done was buy him all the candy he requested and insisted on getting him new clothes. They compromised on something to cover his hand, because the boy had said his glove was torn and tight, and not warm enough.

Song Lan never asked what happened, he complied, and the boy had seemed delighted in spending his money, as though it had been all a ploy of his own, as if Song Lan hadn’t been willing to offer him all of it on his own terms.

When he had returned with an empty money pouch, he’d tilted his head at the long sigh he had been given by the senior disciple he’d travelled with. There was both amusement and exasperation in their tone, and he hadn’t been able to understand if he’d done the right thing or if he had been in trouble again.

His shifu had asked him what he’d thought.

Song Lan had always been taught to help those in need, and he had deemed the younger boy to be in particularly more need of food and clothes than himself. He had a roof over his head, guaranteed meals thanks to his temple siblings, he had no use for money, other than to help others.

Wasn’t it right to give it out for that reason, no matter the amount?

« Let me ask you this, then, » his shifu had said, with the same grinning eyes of weeks earlier. « Say those coins were the only things you possessed. No home, no food to your name, just like that child. Would you still have given him all your money? »

Song Lan had thought about it: he’d been sure it was a trick question, and he had crossed his arms with furrowing brows. « It depends. If up until that moment, I’ve been well fed and only lost everything all of a sudden, then I would. He still needs it more than I do. »

« So, you would push yourself until you reached your limit? »

« I would want to help someone until the very last moment I am able to, » Song Lan had asserted, with the self-assurance of a learnt, wise scholar. It’d been almost cute. He had noticed his shifu trying to sow the seeds of doubt in his idea, but he’d been steadfast. « Is it wrong? » he still asked, a drop of uncertainty in his voice.

He’d only been gifted a simple smile at the time. « You’ll remember I believe there’s no right or wrong answer to most things in this world. But, I can give you a word of advice, » his shifu had said, stopping to turn fully towards him. « It is easier to keep helping those around you, if you make sure you can fully take care of yourself first. »

Song Lan had wondered if that meant he’d made the wrong choice, or said the wrong answer.

When he had tried to apologise, his shifu had brushed him off, complimenting him on such a noble act not many people would do now.

The conversation had left him confused at first, but ever since he had made sure to never run out of resources and plan ahead, think things through before he’d made certain decisions.

He met the scrawny boy often in town, whenever he was allowed to come with.

An auntie had called him “candy thief” during one of his outings, and had given him the affectionate nickname of “xiao Tang”.

It was as far as Song Lan could have gone for a name, as the little boy still refused to reveal his identity. Part of himself wondered if, perhaps, the kid had no name in the first place. It had made a sour expression crawl onto his face, one that xiao Tang had wiped off of him by throwing a candy square between his eyes.

« What’s wrong with you! You always look like someone just died! And who cares if someone died, all that you should care about is you’re the one alive! You’re the one coming out on top. Stop sulking all the time. You’re so boring. »

The boy had then gone off a tangent about death that Song Lan wasn’t actually listening to; to be fair, he’d already made that argument plenty of times before, and he wasn’t sure, as a child, that they needed to have any particular opinion on the subject just yet.

Xiao Tang talked about death as though he’d met it countless times and spit in its face, but it wasn’t a detail Song Lan was eager to dig into.

« I mean– did you die? I don’t think so! So what’re you looking sad for?! »

« I’m not sad, » he’d replied automatically. All the people that didn’t know him were unable to read his subtle expressions, or his mood altogether.

« Then buy me more candy! »

« Shouldn’t you have enough? »

« Nope! » xiao Tang had made a show of his empty pockets and too-long sleeves, a bright grin on his face.

Song Lan had paused, and studied him with a hint of skepticism. « I saw you yesterday, » he’d said, slowly. Usually, they met sporadically, any time that his seniors had chores to attend to. As of late, they’d stopped bringing him along the tasks, and parted from him each time xiao Tang came into view.

Maybe there was some lesson to be learnt? Were they testing him not to spend all of his money again? They didn’t check in with him when they returned, though. How strange.

« And? » xiao Tang had had annoyance twisting on his face increasing by the minute. « I obviously already ate them all! I’m a starving child, you know. »

« Impossible, » Song Lan had deadpanned, tilting his head, and held back a smug when xiao Tang grew pissed that his bluff had been called. « I gave you enough. And my shijie bought you a meal. »

The boy had scowled, rolled his eyes so far up that they almost met the sky itself, and stomped away as though Song Lan had denied him a vital item.

Just like in his conversation with his shifu, uncertainty returned to him. Song Lan had calculated the exact amount of food or candies to gift xiao Tang whenever they saw each other, so they could last well enough until their next meeting. His calculations couldn’t be wrong, and sure, kids of their age tended to be greedy. Why had that boy’s anger made him unhappy?

What if someone had stolen xiao Tang’s candies, and now he was left with nothing? That boy held so much pride within himself, he would have never admitted someone had bested him. Song Lan had made the wrong choice, again. What was the difference between getting him more candies on a certain day, when he’d still give him some on their next meeting?

Although, that same argument could be made in favour of not getting him any more.

A hand coming to ruffle his hair took him away from his thoughts. « Shidi, you might as well grow wrinkles with how deep you’re thinking, » his shijie teased him. Her name was Ke Yun, and she was both one of the liveliest souls of Baixue, and one of the top disciples. She’d recently gotten injured in a night hunt, and had decided to take it easy after her recovery period. « What’s on your mind? Is it about your friend? »

« He’s not my friend, » Song Lan replied, almost instinctively. An epiphany hit him right at that moment, and he turned towards his shijie as they made to return to the temple. « I don’t think he likes me. »

Ke Yun hummed, conceding the hypothesis. « What makes you say that? »

« He’s always yelling at me. It feels like he’s always angry at me, even if I gave him everything he asked for. »

« Why would he stick with you, then? »

Song Lan paused. That was a good point. « … because I give him everything he asks for? » he tried, and his shijie giggled at him. « But I didn’t today. I don’t think he’ll want to see me next time. »

« Why didn’t you? » she prompted, neutral but curious of his choice.

« I didn’t think he needed it. But I didn’t ask him why he wanted more candies so early on. I made an assumption, and now he’s angry at me, and I … » Song Lan’s mouth twisted, and Ke Yun waited patiently. « I regret it. »

Ke Yun put a gentle hand on his shoulder, her smiling eyes put some of his unease to rest. « Would you like to come find him together? I can see it bothers you a lot, shidi. »

Somehow, facing xiao Tang was an idea that intrigued him even less. His mouth twisted further, and his shijie sighed, though a hint of amusement tinted her tone. « Alright, alright. Don’t think about it anymore. If you want my opinion, I think you have nothing to worry about. You children tend to blow up and then forget about what angered you in the blink of an eye, » she shook her head, remembering countless of the same episodes happening to her juniors in the past. « Let’s come back in a few days, and you’ll see he’s already eagerly waiting for you. »

Ke Yun had, thankfully, been right.

Song Lan had approached xiao Tang with a slight tremble in his heart the next time they saw each other, but all the younger boy did was grin widely at him and pull him by the sleeve, despite the numerous amount of times that Song Lan had asked him not to do that.

It seemed some days apart had done enough to ease the boy’s anger. If anything, Song Lan thought xiao Tang was holding onto him tighter than usual now.

He would’ve been more bothered, if he hadn’t been happy about the boy’s usual carefree nonchalance surrounding him.

Whenever he wasn’t brought to town, his seniors would often tell him of their sightings of the boy, and how creepy he looked, lurking in the shadows, staring at them as though he expected them to do something.

They never managed to approach him, that he’d fly away swiftly.

One of them said he was sure he’d been followed all the way to the temple. He’d felt those red eyes on him his entire walk back.

The others had called him too apprehensive, and had chuckled at his story.

Until a certain red-eyed boy was found fleeing the temple kitchens, running so fast none of the disciples were able to catch him: Wan Yunliao’s pace was relentless, but he was always kept a few steps behind the little devil.

« Shidi! » Ke Yun waved her arms at Song Lan – he’d been just making his way back to his room after training when the scene played out in front of him, straight out of a fever dream. « Isn’t that xiao Tang? »

« Xiao Tang?! » another disciple called out, trying to catch the little boy from the other side of the courtyard as he kept changing direction to throw Wan Yunliao off. « Tang as in candy? Who names someone like that! » he yelled at them distractedly, barely missing the kid by an inch.

« Hey! Don’t be mean! » Ke Yun called out, finally reaching Song Lan. Her breath was coming short, she must have been running after everyone too.

« What is happening? » Song Lan wondered out loud, just about starting to process the scene before him. More kids that had been training with him had come to watch the little criminal around him.

« Don’t just stand there, shimei! » the second running disciple yelled again, as Wan Yunliao was tricked into tripping and falling on his face. « Okay, that’s it. »

Ke Yun had to hide a grin behind her hand. « Uh– I think that kid was caught stealing food. He’s still clutching some cake to his chest. »

« A- Yun! » she was reprimanded, her shixiong’s steps starting to falter from exhaustion.

She cupped her hands around her mouth to retort. « Just let him go, Geng-ge! » she said, then shook her head. « At least save some of your pride … » Ke Yun muttered under her breath, watching xiao Tang make a run for the temple doors and disappearing back into the wilderness.

Wan Yunliao had already given up the moment his body hit the ground, covering his face with his hands to block out at least some of the embarrassment about being bested by an eight-year-old.

Mu Xianggeng caught his breath before walking up to the others with a frown directed at his shimei. « Why didn’t you do anything? »

« Hey, I did follow you guys, » Ke Yun defended herself, matching his frown. « Anyway, what were you running after him for? It was just some cake. Not like he stole important equipment. He could have it, he must've been hungry. »

« He doesn’t need a whole cake … » he retorted, sullen. He was known for his equally sweet tooth, after all.

Song Lan’s head hurt. All of his peers jumped in with questions and excitement over the event, a thrilling break from monotony, while he looked between the half-ajar temple doors, and his shixiong still miserably lying on the grass.

Later that day, he’d found cake crumbs spilled all over his bed, and he left to go practice breathing exercises not to tear the hair out of his own scalp.

The kitchen episode wasn’t isolated.

It happened often enough that the disciples in charge started leaving out some extra food in case the scrawny boy came for a visit, under their shifu’s suggestion.

Wan Yunliao had sighed but thrown his hands up in defeat, whilst Ke Yun had grinned and bowed in vigorous agreement.

Honestly, Song Lan didn’t exactly know what to make of it.

The food thing wasn’t an issue per se, it was just that xiao Tang – seriously, he ought to find out his name – kept breaking into their temple undetected, and after a while nobody tried to really stop him, for some reason. He wasn’t an official guest, nor was he acknowledged much with everyone busying around with their daily tasks and classes.

For a while, it felt like Song Lan was the only person who was aware of the little boy.

It started bothering him. It was too much of a sudden, incomprehensible change that he could not handle: each time the kid came barging in was a surprise, and as someone who took comfort in the safe bubble of his surroundings, of always knowing what to expect and being able to organise his days through that, it was too destabilising.

When xiao Tang was around, everyone’s plans few into disarray, and even more so Song Lan’s: the boy had developed a fixation on him at that point.

On a particular jittery day, Song Lan took the advantage of that disadvantage.

The boy had come disrupt yet another practice hour, and he had tried to walk away to subdue the rising tremble of anger in his hands and chest.

Obviously, to no avail. Xiao Tang had followed him, squawking about things he wasn’t paying attention to, and only stopped when Song Lan turned abruptly with his arms crossed before himself.

He had an air of authority that was much too foreign on an eleven-year-old boy. « Get out of our temple, » he said, and watched the kid’s eyes widen and his grin stiffening before growing bigger.

« Why would I do that, you’re too funny! »

Funny? Song Lan had never been called that before, and he was sure he was not ever making jokes. « You are distracting. Either you join us, or at least watch quietly. »

Xiao Tang rolled his eyes up to the sky. « That’s boring. You’re all boring, » he stared for a few moments, and disliking whatever he found in Song Lan’s hard gaze, he surprisingly turned around and left.

Song Lan felt relief wash over him like a rivulet of water making its way through thawed ice.

There was still a part of him that felt bad about it, after all the child must have simply been curious, maybe even interested, but– the temple was the only place where he felt comfortable, where everyone respected his somewhat demanding boundaries. He’d been granted a routine and its disruption was something he’d never learnt to handle.

He was only able to control his emotions when it came to leaving for the villages, because he was informed beforehand, and had the time to prepare mentally for whatever unforeseen events might occur there.

« Ohi, shidi, what happened there? » Ke Huangqi walked up to him, but cleverly remained at a distance. She was good at noticing when his days were more difficult to bear. « Little guy left stomping the ground, but you weren’t coming back. »

Song Lan didn’t respond, he only pouted and wrapped his arms tighter around himself. The last thing he needed was getting scolded for being mean out of selfish reasons.

Fortunate for him, Ke Yun not only had a bright and vibrant side, but also a gentler, calming one she changed into whenever she understood the younger disciples felt troubled.

She sat on the ground, her smile warm, and opened her arms, inviting him forward.

He seemed to consider, but swallowed whatever voice in his head was screaming at him to run away and hide under the blankets instead.

Song Lan’s lower lip wobbled, but he steadied himself as he took a few careful strides towards her and fell into her embrace. It was a bit of a miserable fall.

Ke Huangqi wrapped her arms around the boy tightly, stroking his hair and whispering soothing words when he started shaking in small sobs.

« You should have said it was bothering you this much, » she hugged him tighter, despite the apprehensive tone. « I’ll make sure to keep a closer eye on him from now on. I’ll team up with the others! You’ll see, he won’t escape our grasp next time. »

He only hummed in response when he calmed down enough to not sound broken and raspy.

« I really thought you two were friends … » Ke Yun mused, and Song Lan kept his eyes closed and didn’t say anything.

One would think that was enough to keep xiao Tang at bay.

Song Lan wasn’t surprised when not all the strategies of his seniors worked, but as he learnt to cope with sudden changes in plans, he also had to deal with the younger boy much less than before. Which made him more bearable.

Xiao Tang actually appeared far less than before, growing up. Sometimes, he’d leave the village for days on end, and no one would catch sight of him.

The candy merchant auntie had even gotten worried over his disappearance on the first occasions, but the boy always came back. It seemed each time, he’d return with a strange tilt in his eyes that he laughed off with a cheekier smile.

He did not stop bothering Song Lan well into his teens, of course, but for him growing older also meant growing contempt for everyone around you, and thusly he started bothering innocent village members who were only going about their days in solitude.

Kicking over stalls, stealing not only food, but also materials and supplies that the shopkeepers worked hard on … he did not care for any of it.

As long as Song Lan showed up to stop him and drag him away from the scene after promising the offended part help, then it was all worth it.

The same auntie that had worried over him now looked at him with sad eyes whenever he swaggered around town; xiao Tang was no longer his sweet little candy child, and she struggled to come to terms with that.

Song Lan could not understand him for the longest time.

There was so much sudden resentment in that boy, as though he grew angrier by the minute, out of nowhere. Surely there were a lot of reasons for someone like him to hold grudges against others, but– what exactly had he met with whenever he had left town? He’d never been particularly hostile to that village’s members, why the turnabout?

Granted, there were a lot of things about him that Song Lan didn’t know. Namely, his real name, and everything about his past before he ended up in their mountain lands. He didn’t know what happened to his hand; there was an evident story there, from all the times xiao Tang had clutched at his arm unknowingly.

Song Lan had learnt to accept people as they were, and to never find different features as a weird, anomalous sight, so he never brought it up.

Thinking back on it, he really didn’t know anything about him.

But he knew the way he used to act, and he hadn’t thought maturing would make him angrier. He couldn’t help but wonder … had he pushed him away?

Baixue could have been a good place for xiao Tang to grow past his grievances into a respectable young man, or at least a good place for him to find comfort as well. On numerous occasions, Song Lan himself had heard him make clever connections from lectures he’d only half-listened to. Yet, he never searched for acceptance, no matter how many times his seniors and shifu had tried to talk him into it, xiao Tang had refused.

A little after Song Lan had told him to get lost, his visits had become scarce. At first, the boy had really been mad at him, and then it’d just faded like any other fight they’d had.

Then came the uncharacteristic disappearances.

And now, xiao Tang’s words were more scathing and charged with venom at anyone who dealt with him. Even Song Lan wasn’t spared, but he’d learnt not to let it get to him.

Maybe that was why xiao Tang enjoyed bickering with him the most.

By the years, Song Lan had learnt to get a hold on his emotions to a point where he was mostly in total control of them, so each time xiao Tang came knocking, he would meet him before he could get to anyone else.

One day, he’d stolen a sword from their fighting grounds, and before Song Lan could’ve chased him, the other had returned it. He’d deemed it too “boring” and “useless” for his own endeavours.

Song Lan had asking him then, what kind of endeavours he was talking about, and what he had been doing outside of the village.

He’d only gotten a scoff and a derisive laugh in response, before xiao Tang walked down the path from the temple leading to the town.

A bitter presentiment had settled in his chest then, but he did not want to give in to the meaner voices that told him the boy might really become dangerous: that was what xiao Tang hoped everyone thought of him. He would not give him the satisfaction.

Mistakes were still made along the way.

Song Lan had been tasked with bringing one of his juniors along to the village. Despite the looming threat of xiao Tang, he agreed that the juniors still needed to be taken there and learn how they helped and were helped in kind by the villagers.

If anything were to happen, Song Lan was also the best at dealing with the disastrous teen, and xiao Tang’s outbursts would be less extreme.

So Song Lan had taken a-Yin’s hand and led him down the rocky path, confident that it was going to be a quite regular stroll.

Was he wrong …

An edged voice came from right behind them, as they were making their way to an old couple in need of a few items delivered – a wife who had been taking care of her husband who had gotten injured at work. « And who’s this toddler? » said xiao Tang, with not little contempt in his voice and eyes both.

A-Yin all but burrowed further into Song Lan’s side; the poor eight-year-old had so far been used to gentle words and kind gazes from his temple seniors, seeing someone direct such a cutting tone towards him terrified him at once.

Xiao Tang did not enjoy the sight either. If anything, he looked like he was about to jump the child the more he clung to his shixiong.

« You’re not that much older than him, » retorted Song Lan, trying to divert his attention with practiced tranquillity. How old was he now, about thirteen?

« So? He still smells of milk, » xiao Tang shrugged, and glared at him. « Who is he? And why bring him? Look at him, everything scares him, he’s just gonna slow you down, » he took a step forward, the start of a smirk on his lips. A-Yin retreated, he held onto Song Lan’s robes with both of his tiny hands and kept his wide eyes fixed to the ground. « Pathetic. Leave him here, walk with me and come back later to collect him. This is how you really learn to live down here. »

The kid gasped, horrified at the idea of being left alone in the village crowd, but Song Lan reassured him with a hand on his shoulder. « You think I’d let you insult my shidi and then happily walk around with you? »

Xiao Tang gave him a long look. « Yes? I bet you barely even know the kid, you never talk to anyone! What, is he suddenly the most important child in the world? Is he the son of your shifu or something? »

« He doesn’t have to be anyone to deserve my care, » Song Lan countered, holding his ground steadily. « A-Yin is my junior and I promised to take him to fulfill our tasks together. If you really need something, at least wait until later. »

A rather dramatic huff filled xiao Tang’s cheeks. « I need you to stop being so fucking boring. »

« Watch your language! »

« Boo-hoo, does it look like I care?! You bring this idiot with you to learn, good! Let him learn! This is how we speak down here! »

« I don’t have time for your tantrums. If you wanted company, you’d be kinder about it. Come on, » Song Lan turned away from him to nudge his shidi in the opposite direction, which was his first mistake, judging by the way something seemed to break in the other’s eyes. 

« Okay fine! » xiao Tang threw up his arms in defeat. He made his way to them in quick, big steps, and took a hold of a-Yin’s arm, earning a surprised yelp from the child. « Watch how kind I am! I can show him around! »

Song Lan’s annoyance turned his expression hard. « No. Let him go, » he said, firm and keeping a safe hand on a-Yin.

He held xiao Tang’s stare, not giving in. This was when the latter usually relented, pretended to be offended and left, all nonchalance and uncaring for whether or not Song Lan wanted to comply to his wishes.

Song Lan would check on him after he was done, and that would settle him.

This time, xiao Tang’s own expression hardened. It was an imperceptible thing, one Song Lan unfortunately did not catch on.

« What do you even see in this rat that you’d so badly rather spend a stupidly boring day with him?! » xiao Tang watched him ignore him and pick up the child, unfazed by his choice of words. « Really? »

Song Lan only made it not enough steps ahead that a commotion broke out: bowls and teacups came crashing down from a vendor’s table, some rolling up to his own foot, barely unscathed. Shouts came from the direction where xiao Tang was standing, grinning proudly after having kicked a poor uncle’s stall so hard, half of his wares fell to the ground.

Because of course he would.

Song Lan did his best to school his emotion and not lash out, to focus wholly on helping the villager and ignore the way xiao Tang followed his every move.

He picked up bowls, and asked to assess the damage together to figure out a way to fix it, and made another clear, unthinkable mistake: not keeping a careful eye on xiao Tang.

With the buzzing of the other villagers, he hadn’t noticed, nor heard his shidi being dragged away.

That was, until a fight broke out; « Shixiong! » was all Song Lan needed to hear, a-Yin’s voice equal parts scared and broken. He turned at once, and he was moving before his heart could have a chance of sinking at the sight farther from him.

« What the hell is wrong with you?! » Song Lan reached where xiao Tang had pushed a-Yin to the ground and had started fighting him. He pulled the older boy back from his clothes, perhaps a bit too roughly, but that was not exactly the moment to think to calibrate his strength. « He’s just a boy! »

Xiao Tang still wore a wide smirk that, coupled with the mad glint in his eyes, just looked wrong. He remained surprisingly immobile, staring with that frenzied gaze. « He certainly fights like a pussy! An ant would’ve done better than him! »

Song Lan was focusing mostly on his junior – thankfully, a-Yin was more terrified than he was really injured – , but turned to him with furious incredulity. « Why would you do this?! He’s done nothing to you! »

« Didn’t you say it yourself? You brought him here to teach him about the village. Well, I taught him that sometimes bad things just happen! »

« You are sick, » he said, letting unfiltered anger speak for him. He could not understand. How had it come to this?

There was an emotion in xiao Tang’s words, in the way he was still breathing unevenly,  that he couldn’t find the name of. What in the world happened to the kid who used to be a mild inconvenience at best?

Before he turned, he caught a glimpse of xiao Tang’s strange expression shattering. An unlucky fraction of a second where he couldn’t school himself, before his face hardened. « Oh I am? How about all these people who didn’t do shit to stop me, huh?! They’re all saints? »

If the chatter in the background had already died down, now the silence had become even deader. Song Lan, though, was not going to listen to any of that: he stood up from a-Yin’s side, towering over the other boy, and xiao Tang wavered, almost taking a step back. « Stop shifting the blame! You’re selfish! You’re doing this just to get my attention? What a great job you did! » said Song Lan, gesturing toward his shidi.

Xiao Tang’s eyes darkened so much they nearly looked pitch black. « Unbelievable, » he said, quiet all of a sudden. « You’re so fucking stupid. »

« Shut up. Shut up! » Song Lan turned away once more and knelt. He picked up a-Yin, carefully avoiding hurting him further, and secured him in his arms. « I’m not coming here ever again, » he asserted, without looking back.

« What? » and there it was again, in xiao Tang’s voice, the minute fracture of his mask, one he wasn’t yet skilled in hiding behind. But Song Lan was already walking away, too far to notice it. « Yeah right, see if I care! Go ahead and run! Fuck you! »

As soon as Song Lan crossed the temple’s threshold, still holding an injured a-Yin in his arms, two of his peers came rushing down to meet him. « What happened?! Oh my god, Song-xiong, are you harmed? »

They were carrying swords, which meant they had been heading back from the sword practice grounds together.

« I’m fine, » he said, shaking off their worry, and did not falter once in his step towards their common medical room. The other two followed. « That difficult boy from the village attacked him. I don’t– » his frown deepened. « I don’t know why. I don’t know what I did wrong. He was extremely out of control today. »

« I hardly think you did something wrong! That kid’s got the rudest mouth and meanest punch I’ve ever heard of. Isn’t it about time someone did something about him? » one of his peers suggested, and his sense of justice was understandable, but Song Lan still felt like the situation was more complicated than that.

« Who can even lecture him? He doesn’t have guardians. »

« But he hurt our shidi! This is an attack on us! I’m sick of this story worsening. Let’s tell– »

The boy who’d kept quiet so far sighed next to them. « Alright, a-Le, we won’t achieve anything if we respond to violence with violence. Go take a breather, you know you get too emotionally invested in these things. »

A-Le rolled his eyes, and promptly scoffed, but complied. He was one of the more reactive ones amongst their peers.

Song Lan’s arms hurt by the time they reached the medical room, but he was at least glad about the relative silence and understanding from his friend.

« There we go, » said the latter, Hua Guo’en, pushing the door open for him.

They were met with a tearful Xianggeng sitting on a bed and leaning onto a bashful Huangqi, her arm wrapped in several bandages.

Wan Yunliao looked in the middle of a scolding, when the three of them locked in onto the two kids quickly coming into the room, and froze.

« Is that a-Yin? » Yunliao muttered half to himself, forgetting about his friends to reach his shidi; he was often in charge of the medical room, and it was his turn that day to help take care of other disciples.

A-Yin was laid in bed, wincing in pain, but bravely keeping his tears back. He just had a few scrapes and bruises, xiao Tang hadn’t actually gone hard on him, but still …

Yunliao started on cleaning the only open wounds caused by his body colliding with the ground, and focused. « What happened? »

« He was beaten up, » Song Lan replied, keeping his answers diligently short. His other shixiong and shijie remained silent when they walked to a-Yin’s bed and assessed the situation themselves.

« An accident? A person, or a monster? If monsters start getting confident enough to barge into town, we need to tell shifu. »

« It wasn’t a monster. » Song Lan could have easily laid out the truth, and the others already suspected the identity of the culprit, there was no point in confirming it. « It … doesn’t matter, » he said. Thinking back on it, hadn’t he been the one to turn his back on a-Yin? « It was my fault. I didn’t keep an eye on him properly. I’m sorry. »

Yunliao turned to him then, eyes methodical. « Did you hurt him? »

Song Lan tilted his head. He was suddenly confused, why would he ask him that? « No? »

His shixiong waved him off. « Then it isn’t your fault. I think you’re lying to me. Or rather, you’re telling me what you think, » said Wan Yunliao, dabbing some numbing medicine on the child’s bruises. « But not the truth. No matter, go tidy yourself up. I’ll take care of him. He’ll be okay, he was just shaken up. »

Defeated, despite uncertain, Song Lan nodded and bowed to his senior. He gave a half-hearted smile to Guo’en, who responded in kind, but stayed behind to watch their shixiong’s work.

Ke Huangqi followed Song Lan with her eyes before making her way to him.

« Where do you think you’re going? » Wan Yunliao was scary. He was really scary, and most juniors believed he had eyes in the back of his head.

She held no fear towards him, though, and dared defy him at any given chance, gaining everyone’s respect. « Aiya! To do just a little chat with our Lan-didi, leave me be. »

« We thought you were dead an hour ago! » Mu Xianggeng held her back by her good arm, ignoring her eye-roll. His eyes were still a bit puffy. She’d gotten injured again on another night hunt, doing too much too quickly, and had scared them quite a bit by passing out a few minutes too long after a concussion.

Typical Ke Yun behaviour.

« Don’t be that dramatic, you’re scaring our shidi! I promise I’ll come back after I talk to him, okay? » there was no restraining her anyway, and she smiled brightly at Xianggeng’s scowl and Yunliao’s quiet “whatever”.

When she closed the door behind herself and Song Lan, she let out a deep sigh. « It’s so hard to get them off my back every time. So! Wanna tell me what happened? It was our little candy-loving boy, wasn’t it? »

Song Lan still thought the nickname was too old and worn out now. « It was. He was acting off. I don’t think he liked that I brought someone instead of coming alone, » he said, without leaving out the sarcasm. Well, at least the walk up the mountain had calmed him down enough to joke about it.

Although, maybe if he’d come alone, no one would’ve gotten injured. Or would xiao Tang have attacked him? Had he been itching for a fight? It was so much harder to read him, lately.

Ke Huangqi hummed in understanding. Ah, jealousy, and not any ordinary one. Always so rampant with teens. « I see. Hardly your problem, though. Why did you say it’s your fault? »

Song Lan wanted to say that whenever he met with him, he somehow felt like any and all mishaps that xiao Tang created should have been within his control. Whenever he disappeared and reappeared whilst harassing someone, it felt like a failure of his own.

Realistically, he knew the boy was ungovernable, but sometimes he would listen to Song Lan and stop being an inconvenience to the villagers as long as he was there.

That morning, too, he should have known better than to act on instinct, but xiao Tang had too cleverly distracted him with his mind already running in all directions.

« He kicked over a stall, so I decided to help the uncle pick up all his wares first, but I didn’t tell a-Yin to help me. I turned away from him and that’s when he was attacked. He was my responsibility, and I wasn’t careful. »

Song Lan was left with silence at first, as his shijie played the scene in her mind.

Who was to say that xiao Tang wouldn’t have attacked a-Yin regardless of what Song Lan was doing? Still, in a different occasion, he could have intercepted the fight before it began.

« Mhm. Hey, it was your first time handling someone else. Mistakes are bound to happen, and now you learnt from it. » Ke Huangqi extended a careful hand towards him, and when he didn’t lean away, she placed it on his shoulder.

« My shidi got hurt, » Song Lan said, and his posture sagged. « What kind of mistake is that? »

« You couldn’t have foreseen that, didi, let’s be realistic, » her tone shifted, displaying a seriousness that she rarely manifested. Ke Huangqi looked at him for a long moment, like she was studying an enigmatic scroll. « Is there something else? »

Song Lan thought about whether or not to tell her. It sounded stupid, in a situation where there was a clear injured party, to feel like he owed xiao Tang an apology.

He couldn’t have handled it worse, and he knew to take responsibility for his own actions. He should have mitigated a fight rather than fed the fire. « I lost my patience. I yelled at him, and I offended him. I’m not exactly a good role model. Maybe I should have talked with him more evenly, but– I saw red when a-Yin was on the ground. Xiao Tang had kept throwing insulting remarks towards him the entire time we were there, I had enough. He hasn’t done this before. »

Ke Huangqi chuckled at him in sympathy. « It’s good that you can recognise where you went wrong, that way you can think about how to handle it better next time, » she said, and to that he nodded in agreement. « Well, xiao Tang. From your retelling of events, he did seem more bothered than usual. Maybe he’s been going hungry? Who knows. That boy has such a volatile mood but won’t ever say what’s wrong. I can’t tell when he’s begging for attention and when he is subtly asking for help. »

Song Lan related to that. He had all the ways to catch your focus and pick at all your grievances with an impressively skilled mind, but his own were always a mystery. « I should apologise, but I don’t want to see him yet. I feel like I’d blow up again. »

Just why had he done that? He had discussed situations like that plenty of times before, acting on patience and understanding had never been an issue before.

If he did apologise, maybe xiao Tang would feel more inclined to tell him what was going on?

« Of course, don’t beat yourself up over it. I can check on him tomorrow, » Ke Huangqi offered him a bright smile, and he glared at her bandaged, immobilised arm. « Okay fine, I’ll send Yunliao, but he’s going to hate every second of it. You rest today, too. Meditate, and think about how you really feel, and what you’d like to say, » she said, and then leaned closer, using one of her authoritative expressions. « And allow yourself to be rightfully angry, sometimes. »

Song Lan finally let himself smile a little. « I will, shijie. Thank you, » he said, and bowed to her for good measure.

They’d reached the hall where his room was, so his shijie waved him off before he turned. « Come visit me! »

The day Mu Xianggeng died, Song Lan didn’t leave his room.

The white belt around his clothes weighed him down as much as the sorrow freezing his limbs; he was in bed, hugging his knees to his chest, trying hard to push away the images of his shifu and all the seniors he’d never seen crying before.

He was around for the ritual, the burial, and to pay respects, and then he made an immediate escape within the eerily silent halls, and the darker walls of his bedroom.

None of the other disciples minded him or his absence when all they could focus on was keeping themselves together, trying to be strong in the face of tragedy.

The natural course of things, although unbalanced, drenched in the existence of monsters overturning its peaceful flow; if death was part of nature, then technically there was no point to Song Lan’s awful feelings, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to remember the teachings he’d so carefully reviewed years before.

Was it the same to die of old age and for a friend’s life to be severed too soon? Severed by the same monsters they swore to slay?

His mind was blank. It was then that he realised, no matter how many books he could read on the matter, he’d never be able to see anyone go. Natural course of things or not.

Song Lan curled in over himself further, gaze still in the void.

Everything was bound to change. Though life would be the same, though the wind, the fire and rain would stay the same, the heartache would remain. Blaring in their minds, impossible to forget, always lingering in each room like a haunted mansion.

He wasn’t ready. He wished he could ignore anything happened at all.

A head sprouted from the window in his room, blocking some of the light.

Normally he would not have paid it any mind, nor raised his tired eyes to it, if not for the fact that a wild mass of hair, uncharacteristic to any of his seniors or juniors, came along with it.

Xiao Tang was expressionless when he climbed in from that window with little effort. Swift as ever, he landed on his feet, dusted off his clothes a bit, and only then did he look back.

Neither spoke. They hadn’t seen each other since that eventful day in the village, and Song Lan hadn’t yet had the right words in his mind to discuss the matter with him.

Xiao Tang held his gaze, unmoving, as though waiting, a challenge to dare throw him out silently spoken.

When nothing else happened, he walked to him, and climbed on the bed to sit next to him, kicking his shoes off ungracefully. It came as a surprise that he even had the decency to take them off.

Song Lan expected some stupid remark, like “who cares if someone died, all that you should care about is you’re the one alive!”, or “at least now you look sullen for a reason.”

Only silence came. Xiao Tang just … sat there, next to him, looking at the same void he’d been staring into.

For once, touch he wasn’t initiating did not send Song Lan recoiling. The way the other boy was pressed slightly against his side set something else into motion: a slow realisation, as though by touching Song Lan he reminded him he was a real, solid presence, and not some fleeting moment in space. As though Song Lan had stopped breathing, and the entire world around him had halted alongside him.

After that, followed its debilitating and sudden push forward, all of the feelings that he had ignored colliding into one another simultaneously.

He tried to swallow the biting knot in his throat, but it only served to make the tears in his eyes worse.

Xiao Tang pressed the slightest bit more into his side, and Song Lan broke the silence of his grief.

He hid his face behind his hands; the first exhale came out shuddering, like it didn’t know whether to be a sob or a sigh. His palms pressed into his eyes, but his lips wobbled and betrayed him until his breath hitched and the first tears came.

Song Lan couldn’t understand why, but he found himself wishing he wasn’t crying. The more he was reminded of his body, the worse it got, and the more he wished for it to stop. He felt like a small child again, with no safe bubble to return to, no comfort, soul in disarray.

Lost like he couldn’t recognise his surroundings. Song Lan wiped away his own tears, although they kept running down his face, and sat back.

Xiao Tang was turned to him now, and despite blurry, there was still a blank expression on his face.

Song Lan kept his stare on him for maybe an instant, before his face twisted again, and inexplicably his mind told him to reach for the first anchor he could find: xiao Tang was warm, a firm and unmoving body in his arms.

It was the closest thing to comfort he could think to experience.

He held onto him more than he was holding him at all, and if he let go he might as well have stumbled into the pit of despair that was waiting for him.

Xiao Tang’s arms eventually came around him, steadying them into a proper hug, and that had been the only time he moved in their entire interaction.

Song Lan stopped holding himself back. He sobbed into the crook of his neck, and tried not to think of the uncomfortable way his tears were sticking the boy’s clothes to his face.

Just like a real anchor, xiao Tang kept him right there, his arms never tired of keeping him close, no matter how many hours passed as Song Lan tried to hide from the world.

He must have fallen asleep that way, and waking up in the same old loneliness – his roommates nowhere in sight – awakened disappointment in him, after that comforting promise he’d passed out into.

Perhaps xiao Tang hadn’t come at all. It could have all very well been a feverish, life-like dream.

But his arms had felt warm, in a soothing way he’d forgotten, and that was all Song Lan desired to remember.

« I don’t know why I said that, » Song Lan looked at xiao Tang and hoped he could see the honesty in the face he so often called dull.

It had been … a while, since their argument, since- quite a lot of things.

Song Lan hadn’t descended from the temple, and coincidentally xiao Tang had remained out of sight as well, if not for the few times in which other Baixue disciples would notice things going missing. It hadn’t been food anymore, only records, writings … Ke Huangqi had tried to ask her shidi if he’d known anything about it, but all Song Lan could focus on had been how much the light in her eyes had dimmed.

Nobody pointed it out, but it was clear as day.

He’d only recently decided to walk back into the village, not with any chore in mind, only for an aimless stroll: he still wore a white belt, and the villagers took precious care in interacting with him.

Xiao Tang had been nowhere to be seen on the first occasions, until one day he caught him staring from a distance as he apprehended a particularly reluctant thief.

The situation had been handled easily, and Song Lan had come out of it a little more hopeful towards humanity; xiao Tang had disappeared into a corner right after the two locked eyes.

His expression had been as blank as the day he’d broken into his bedroom.

Song Lan took wide steps to follow him into whatever abandoned road he’d crawled into: part of him still held onto the anger from their last real encounter, but … he’d also been musing over his own actions, and needing to apologise for raising his voice at him.

Xiao Tang looked three parts tired and seven parts unimpressed when Song Lan did catch up with him. He seemed even more closed off than usual.

« Mainly, I was disappointed. »

A scoff that morphed into a derisive laugh came from the other. « Why, did you think you could fix me? »

Song Lan held his stare, his brows knitting. He always had this … peculiar talent for twisting his words, as though he were looking for a fight. « I’ve been trying to apologise to you for months, » Song Lan said, deciding to change direction.

If he thought xiao Tang was going to mutually apologise, he’d be in for a very long conversation, in which “sorry” would never be uttered once.

« Yeah? Well, I’ve been here and there. »

There was a detachment in his tone that Song Lan did not like. Up until then, their conversation had felt off from what he’d been used to. « Don’t I deserve to at least know what was going on in your head back then? »

Xiao Tang grinned, sharp and cutting as he leaned forward with his arms crossed. « You want a trip inside my mind, Song-daozhang? I don’t recommend it. I don’t believe for half a second you’d understand anything in there. »

« So I’m never going to get at least an explanation? »

« Why, what’d you even expect me to say? » he raised his eyebrows, as though he could not believe his words. When Song Lan stood his ground, xiao Tang rolled his eyes and doubled back. « Listen, you’re not the type to ever get the urge to fuck up a kid with your fists. So no, you won’t. »

Song Lan winced internally. He wasn’t exactly eager to find out how that thought process even happened, but if it could be avoided … « Can you at least not do that ever again? »

« What, touch your friends? Don’t worry, I won’t be your problem anymore. » xiao Tang smiled wide, and that too looked wrong on him. « I’m going on a little journey. Might leave tomorrow, or maybe later today. Maybe right now. Sounds like a good idea, actually. So, if you’re done moping around about your little shidi, I’ll be on my way. »

He didn’t even wait for Song Lan’s reaction, xiao Tang was already walking away, following the little beaten path at the border of the village: all he’d given him was a half-hearted wave and not even the shred of a glance.

Song Lan was left to stare at his figure, almost dumbfounded, unable to string together the boy’s stream of consciousness. Where was he going, and for how long? By himself? Why? Was he going to be safe?

Each time he left, he’d come back … worse. He didn’t want to admit the specifics to himself, but he came back worse, and a stupidly naïve part of himself almost asked him if he could come with.

As he watched him, xiao Tang’s words swam in his mind.

I won’t be your problem anymore.

« Will I ever see you again? » Song Lan called out, a bitter presentiment constricting his heart.

The boy stopped in his tracks, as if considering. When he turned and started making his way back, he sported a bright grin that only mellowed when he leaned close enough that Song Lan had to fight the urge to lean away. « My name is Xue Yang, » he said, boring his eyes into him. « Make sure you remember me. »

Seven years later, Song Lan found himself in a predicament.

He was well over the age of taking on night hunts by himself, despite the precaution they still took since … their last incident, and by then, the majority of the temple’s disciples were awed by his honed skills. Many of the younger ones talked of admirable talent, and he constantly reminded them that they, too, could reach his level if they went back to practice instead of leisurely chatting about in their gardens.

They always smiled sheepishly and scurried away at that, which made him smile inwardly in turn. Others were often inspired by him, and he couldn’t be prouder of his family.

He was a little less proud of himself now, though, struggling against the jaws of a yaoguai which wasn’t even that powerful spiritually speaking, just so damn annoying.

What it lacked in powers, it certainly gained in strength.

Song Lan frowned at the way his sword was stuck at the roof of its mouth, and grimaced when saliva started dripping off of its jaw, way too close to his body.

The yaoguai pushed forward against his steadiness, and Song Lan started feeling himself struggle to get a hold of the situation; he tried to pull his sword out with a clean, precise movement, yet all it did was shake the beast’s head around. Had it become of stone?! What was its deal!

To his demise, the yaoguai seemed to gain an ounce of intelligence, and thrust its head from side to side violently until it sent Song Lan recoiling, almost hitting a trunk in the process of regaining his momentum.

It roared in its own annoyance and he watched in a moment of frozen horror as it chomped down onto the hilt of his sword, plunging the blade further into its skull.

Ugh.

That beast must have been graced with the thickest skull, given having a blade piercing right through its mouth did nothing to stall it.

It just seemed as annoyed as he was about the whole thing.

Song Lan dodged its next attacks, tried to get at a comfortable distance whilst still being in its general range – apparently, it hated the knowledge of its prey getting away, and grew even more offensive in that case.

He wished he had brought his bow and arrows.

Change of plans: it was time to endure, and wait until the creature tired out or did something extremely stupid. Considering its behaviour, it probably wasn’t going to take much.

Just as he thought of that, the yaoguai flailed around too hard, and Song Lan’s blade got stuck into a tree, trapping the beast by consequence.

Great. Now, if he could just somehow pull Fuxue out of it …

Song Lan’s eyes widened and he retreated as the beast’s claws dug into the root of the tree, eradicating it completely and lifting its head with it. An exceptional show of strength no less.

The yaoguai’s movement grew more sluggish, and it tried to shake off the tree: it only served to strain its body too hard, pushing Fuxue’s hilt further and further into the roof of its mouth until it finally broke free, piercing its way through and falling on the ground along with the tree it had previously been stuck on.

A shrill scream roared out of the beast, coupled with sloshing sounds of blood and meat falling off its gaping hole.

Song Lan had to stay strong more for the sensory nightmare, than the fight itself. More so when he realised he had to get his poor, soiled sword back if he really wanted to put an end to this.

Thankfully, due to its stupid theatrics, the yaoguai had suffered a stunning injury: it no longer registered Song Lan’s movements, nor his presence.

It was going to be easy.

He quickly wiped Fuxue’s hilt and let muscle memory do the rest; he muttered a spell under his breath before his attack, and next thing he knew, the yaoguai’s head had been cut clean off, and he was pulling Fuxue from where he’d stabbed it at the centre of its chest.

In an instant, the creature’s body frosted over and crumbled in on itself into a million shards of ice.

Song Lan allowed himself a moment of respite, breathing in and out, waiting for his shaking arms to steady and for tranquillity to claim his body back.

A bit of a close call, but it was over.

Until it wasn’t, and something struck him hard, sending him to fall and hit the back of his head on the ground.

He squeezed his eyes shut tight, groaned and tried to lift himself from his elbows: when he peered at his new attacker, his vision swam, and he dropped on his back again.

Two. There were two more of them. How had he not felt their presence? They were inching closer to him, and he could hear them snarl and unhinge their jaws in anticipation.

Song Lan reached for his sword, but found an empty scabbard. A pounding headache pervaded him: was this really how it was going to end? Had he learnt nothing?

No, he could do something– anything. Still wincing, he reached into the folds of his robes, for whatever talisman he could find, anything to throw off the beasts’ momentum– it couldn’t end like this.

All of a sudden, the resentful energy surrounding them grew to an unbearable amount.

Song Lan wasn’t even sure he’d ever perceived dark qi that strongly before, even in a place crawling with demons. It felt– suffocating, and perhaps that was really how it was going to go down. Death by yin energy asphyxiation.

It kept him down, as though his body were being crushed by a physical weight, and the migraine made sure he didn’t dare crack an eye open.

He braced for the inevitable impact.

Loud screeches pierced his ears, grating his insides, so doleful Song Lan nearly thought the creatures were actually writhing in pain.

He managed to cover his eyes and ears in time with the yaoguai’s screams reaching their highest peak and then–

Nothing.

Pure, wonderful silence, as the resentful energy slowly seeped away from that land.

Song Lan didn’t let himself rest until the silence stretched out enough for it to be deemed safe: of course, it did not.

There were steps, leisure, slow, heading towards him and very much human, if he was lucky enough.

Those steps stopped right in front of him, and Song Lan peeked his eyes open with difficulty over the pounding headache.

All he could see was a young man towering over him in the dark, a wild mass of hair and a pair of bright crimson eyes.

« Remember me? » he asked, grinning with familiar sharpness.

Song Lan blacked out.

He must have had the order of events wrong. Song Lan had probably hit his head, in some way, after having killed the yaoguai, and then he must have hallucinated everything else consequently.

Otherwise he wouldn’t still have been in one piece once he’d woken up, because there was no way that … someone else had been there.

Yaoguai were known for hallucinations, that must have been its last effort in incapacitating Song Lan. Surely.

Once he’d purified the zone and met back with the afflicted townspeople, he had returned to Baixue to rest, and at least make some sense of what had happened to him by looking up their scrolls for the umpteenth time. As though he didn’t know them by heart already.

At the back of his mind, something prickled, something bothered him. Why would he hallucinate Xue Yang, after all those years?

He’d never come back, gone without a trace or a lead to find him with: it shouldn’t even bother him as much as it still did, that he’d told him to remember him for the sole purpose of haunting his memories every now and then.

Though that sounded exactly like something he would do.

Song Lan should have set out to travel the cultivation world long ago, and yet … he could never quite bring himself to. Part of him wondered if he actually wanted to leave Baixue for the sole purpose of solving that enigma and find Xue Yang himself, the other wondered if he’d have rather stayed because maybe, some day, he might have come back.

Both sounded increasingly pathetic and desperate the more time passed.

And yet, looking at his peers and his seniors, at Ke Huangqi and Wan Yunliao, he now knew some marks people left on you never really faded.

Song Lan was walking across the mountain village on a day where he was returning from a blessing requested by a family that was soon expanding.

Time passed by quietly now, for the most part, an idyllium he never thought he’d find himself in eventually.

Without a constant, metaphorical storm thrashing up everyone’s daily life, there wasn’t much else to keep track of down there; Song Lan tried not to think about it, but the quiet felt uncharacteristic, like he almost missed the way the little rascal used to break the monotony.

As though trained by their past strifes, Song Lan was still attentive when it came to the slightest commotion, he was always quick to check wherever a fight or a dispute started.

Most times, it was petty, silly arguments.

That day, it was a foreign group of cultivators surrounding someone on the ground, and the villagers at either sides of the street looking on in shock and whispering to one another.

The villagers quickly informed him that they’d never seen that group before, and they might have just been passing when they tried to apprehend someone – another stranger – who apparently retaliated. And that was when they fought back and cornered him.

Song Lan thanked them quickly and nodded, reaching the cultivators from the side, so he could get a good look at what exactly they were handling.

He would have intervened immediately, would have introduced himself and politely asked if he could assist, to resolve the conflict in the most peaceful way possible – he knew the villagers disliked the kind of brutal force cultivators from clans in bigger cities tended to handle things with.

Yes, he would have certainly done that, if the sight hadn’t struck him as hard as when he’d hit his head in that night hunt.

Xue Yang was kneeling on the ground, his trademark smirk wide and glimmering on his face: he was staring up at the cultivator that had his sword pointed right under his chin, defiance and a challenge in his eyes.

… maybe the hallucination hadn’t worn out just yet.

Xue Yang’s own sword was forgotten a few paces away from him, and another cultivator was keeping his arms behind his back.

Goodness, what had he done this time?!

« Go ahead, » Xue Yang said, inviting. « C’mon, » he taunted, presenting his neck like he was just– accepting death.

The cultivator on the other side of the sword wavered, thrown off by his confidence, and his mouth twisted. « Stop that! You will also refrain from attacking us! Unhand whatever you’ve stolen right now! »

Xue Yang was shaking with barely contained laughter, a snort escaped from his throat. « Stolen? »

« Still pretending not to know what I’m talking about? »

At that moment, the same old auntie who had always tended to the candy selling in the neighbourhood appeared at the stall where her husband had taken over for the day while she had been busy: her eyes widened at Xue Yang, and then she locked eyes with Song Lan.

Her eyes widened some more when her husband whispered something to her and her jaw hung in disbelief, hitting his harm for good measure.

She moved forward, and Song Lan did the same. He placed himself next to Xue Yang, and when he bowed to the group, he could see the young man stare at him with a rawer kind of shock.

« Forgive me for interrupting, » he said, and slowly rose to greet them and properly introduce himself. « May I know what happened? » he asked then, neutral and placid as ever, ignoring Xue Yang’s scoff below him.

The cultivators all straightened and mellowed at his intervention as well. The one at the front removed his sword with a glare at Xue Yang, but returned Song Lan’s kind regards when he sheathed it. « We apologise if we disturbed the peace too much, Song-daozhang. This rascal happily stole precious wares from that poor merchant, » explained the man, pointing at the auntie’s husband – ah, that’s how it was. « And he thought he could simply walk it off like nothing happened! We couldn’t stand and stare, surely you would understand. »

« It’s not like that! » the candy auntie immediately jumped in, waving her hands high. « It was all a misunderstanding! »

« I hardly believe so, furen. No one in this village seems to know this man, and neither did the merchant! »

« Listen- »

« There’s no shame in admitting you’re the victim, madam! »

« If I may … » Song Lan interrupted, something about the gentle tone of his voice seemed to enthrall everyone into listening to him. The cultivator immediately shut up. « It is as she says, a misunderstanding. This lady is the merchant’s wife, she has lived here for decades, and she knows exactly who this man is, » he nodded at her smile of gratitude. « As do I. »

The cultivator’s eyes widened at once, and Song Lan found it entirely amusing. « Oh … uhm. Is that so …? »

« Yes. Though I understand, to outsiders he may seem like any regular thief, » Song Lan dared to look at Xue Yang. He found him glaring back at him with the force of three tigers. « He actually has had this pact with the candy vendor since childhood. Anything he takes, he can do so without paying. Our temple has handled payment ever since. »

« What the fuck? » mumbled Xue Yang, glaring even harder at him, but Song Lan wasn’t paying attention to him.

« Oh, I see– » the cultivators started talking amongst themselves, partially embarrassed by making such a ruckus over nothing. « Candy vendor … you say? »

« Yes, » Song Lan confirmed, impassive. « They’ve always sold candy. I assume she asked her husband to take over today, and he hadn’t been aware of this arrangement. »

« That’s exactly like it, » the candy auntie confirmed, nodding vigorously.

« Ah, » the cultivator displayed a tight smile, sheepish and tense. « How strange that nobody recognised him … »

Song Lan ignored the bout of suspicion in his tone. « He has been missing for quite a while. Thank you for bringing my attention to him. »

He was gawked at, the cultivators completely at a loss in the way he calmly handled the entire situation. Perhaps they were more used to violent outcomes.

« Of course, » one of them said. « We were just passing by on our way to a night hunt. We’ll take our leave, then, if everything’s alright. »

« It is, » Song Lan bowed at the same time as they did. « Please don’t hesitate to contact us if you’re in need of help. »

The one he’d talked to just gave him another tight-lipped smile, and walked past him, hitting on the forehead the one cultivator who was still holding Xue Yang’s arms.

« Let him go, idiot. »

« Ah– sorry! I was too focused … »

Xue Yang was a giggling mess by the time the group was out of sight, and when Song Lan regarded him, he did so with a raised eyebrow. « Get up. »

« What the hell was that! » Xue Yang did get up, nearly falling over himself with laughter. « Did you seriously just argue about candy theft? »

Song Lan levelled him with a stare: the grin Xue Yang faced him with was still the same one that used to mean trouble in the past. He wouldn’t get fazed by it now, though. « It wasn’t theft, » he said, quick, cut-and-dry.

The way Xue Yang’s expression shifted minutely into irritation was nothing short of a reward. « You’re still so fucking stupid, » he muttered, but Song Lan did not dignify that with an answer and went to the candy auntie to settle the matter.

When she gave Xue Yang one of those strangely warm, but concerned looks that she used to send him whenever he came back after weeks of radio silence, he turned around in disgust. « Whatever. » He took the candies he’d stolen from his pocket, and dangled one in front of his eyes, chuckling to himself. « Precious wares. »

The auntie took a bit of convincing to accept payment after the whole mess with the cultivators: needless to say, she could not hold off much longer when it came to Song Lan’s reasoning.

He wasn’t expecting Xue Yang to be waiting for him – though he’d never admit it – when he walked back to him and found him stealing a furtive glance.

It would’ve been endearing, if he didn’t also want to shake him violently for having disappeared for so long.

« Welcome back, » he said, settling on simplicity, because throwing hands with an old … acquaintance wouldn’t have been decorous.

Xue Yang did the head tilt thing, the one that suggested an underlying challenge in his narrowed eyes. He gave him a slow once over before replying. « Who says I’m staying? »

« Then leave, » Song Lan had no time, nor will to argue. It was a little funny to see him thrown off balance over and over at his every answer, like he’d expected him to have kept the same temperament of his teenage years.

Xue Yang’s face twisted in a funny way, like it wasn’t sure whether to display a frown or a smirk. 

« Sure, » he shrugged, sounding in no way affected by his apparent coldness.

He didn’t waste any time whirling around and skipping away, down into one of the usual weird corners of the village. It seemed he was the one that hadn’t changed much.

Song Lan allowed himself an imperceptible smile that he ducked his chin to hide; he shook his head, and resumed his walk back to Baixue.

It wasn’t that he wanted to come off as detached in any sort of way. If anything, if Xue Yang had been able to see through him, he would have definitely detected how all of his emotions were currently in disarray after having the confirmation that yes, he really was back.

Which meant, on that night hunt … yes, that couldn’t have been a coincidence.

Xue Yang had willingly saved him.

Song Lan smiled a bit wider.

Alas, it had been almost a decade since they’d spent any time together, so it wasn’t unreasonable that Xue Yang could no longer read him as well. Although it hurt to admit, for some reason.

On the other hand, he wondered how different Xue Yang was from back then: so far, the way an edged smile was stuck on his face mirrored the way he’d always been. There was an air of pure confidence laced with it now, both in the way he held himself and how he spoke with others.

In a way, Song Lan almost saw him … more relaxed? As though a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, even if that bright alertness never truly left his eyes.

He wasn’t sure whether or not that was a good thing.

Not with the way he looked with a blade against his throat.

What was worse was that, between Xue Yang and the sword he picked off the ground before leaving, Song Lan had experienced the same dark, choking feeling he felt in his night hunt.

If there was something that never changed, it was how Xue Yang said something to appear nonchalant, and then did the exact opposite.

Song Lan wouldn’t say that he joined him on night hunts, but he often swept in last second to deal the killing blow to whatever monster Song Lan was trying to subdue.

He’d raise a questioning eyebrow at Xue Yang, and the latter would laugh at him, point out how stupid he looked, and leave into the darkness.

Once, he’d almost asked him why he was watching him fight, or following him, but then … did he really want to know the answer to that?

Xue Yang would’ve definitely worked his way around the topic and respond with something incomprehensible.

Song Lan hadn’t felt any more resentful energy ooze off of him on those hunts, and he wondered whether it had all been a trick of his mind, or if Xue Yang had been purposefully concealing it.

Again, asking him about it was not going to lead anywhere. He did not like his odds, regardless.

When he thought about it, his long disappearances and how Xue Yang looked and sounded worse each time, the strange power he was hypothetically trying to hide away from him … he knew he should have confronted him about it, but without solid proof, he risked accusing him based on simple conjecture and really pushing him away.

And, well … he wasn’t exactly eager to.

No matter how bothersome Xue Yang was, it was like something had lit up again after his return, and Song Lan didn’t want to let it go.

He didn’t know what it meant yet.

Xue Yang did not stop antagonising him no matter how many times Song Lan met his hostility with a tranquil, observing mind. It still threw him off, causing his aggression to waver, like Song Lan was not sticking to the script he’d made in his mind.

Really, it was simple, bad guy and righteous guy, they both hate each other, they both want to kill each other: that was what Xue Yang labelled their relationship like.

As much as the walls around his heart were still raised high, with the way he kept seeing himself against the world, there was indeed a change.

Xue Yang had become more ruthless. Song Lan hadn’t foreseen it as something possible; he was aware he did not have a familiar relationship with empathy … perhaps part of him still saw that little kid in rags trembling with rage he couldn’t deal with. And so, he hadn’t given it enough thought, and him not enough fault.

He’d travelled to a town farther from the village for yet another request, when he found Xue Yang with a dagger against a man’s throat, the threat of slashing it open very real in the intent burning in his eyes.

Song Lan couldn’t tell you how he managed to de-escalate whatever had happened there. All he remembered was his heart sinking, and the intense urge to shake Xue Yang, to keep him in place, look into his unfocused, terrifying eyes and beg him to please, let Song Lan help him.

He hadn’t done that. He’d stayed with Xue Yang after the stranger had fled, until anger stopped his arms from trembling with the need to tear something or someone into pieces.

Xue Yang had turned his wide eyes to him then, still somewhat dazed, looking like he’d personally offended him.

Whatever he found in Song Lan’s stare disgusted him. « Not your goddamn pity party, » he’d muttered, wrenching out of the hold Song Lan hadn’t even registered he had on his wrist.

There was so much chaos within Xue Yang that Song Lan’s own ears rung.

« Get the fuck out of here, you don’t want to risk soiling your perfect reputation, do you? » he had regarded him with a derisive smile that was more of a twist of his lips. Xue Yang had scrunched his nose at him when he didn’t reply. « Don’t you dare act surprised. »

Song Lan hesitated. « I’m not– »

« Shut up. Stop fantasising about saving me or whatever, that’s not how the world works! I don’t know what stupid daoshi stories you read at your temple, but they’re not real. Get it in your fucking head, aren’t you smarter than that? »

And there it was, the implication that he believed Song Lan thought of him as broken. « I’m allowed to believe in whichever philosophy I prefer, » he said, and tried not to hurt at the knowledge that he would never let him help.

« And one day, that’s going to get you killed. »

Song Lan’s gaze changed from pained to perplexed. « Xue Yang. Do you think the world is out to get you? »

Xue Yang did not answer that. He grinned at him in a way that was almost mocking and snickered under his breath, as though there was a joke lying there that Song Lan could not understand.

Whilst Xue Yang was left perpetuating his own drastic vision of the world, Song Lan remained in Baixue.

In his free time from the training lessons he held, he thought about his current situation.

The image of Xue Yang’s dazed state kept dancing in his mind. His disturbed spiritual energy, how his eyes trembled in the same way they did as a helpless kid who still tried to stand up for himself.

Song Lan wondered why he had shut himself away completely. Wondered if Xue Yang had noticed the shred of vulnerability he’d shown against his will, and decided to mend it by going far away enough to become the worst version of himself behind his back. To stay in the comfortability of the monster others wanted him to become, the only thing he’d ever known.

He still didn’t want to believe it. Still wanted to believe it was all a mask, or a protective shield that he hid himself behind. There couldn’t only be disturbing things in him.

Song Lan was outside, walking along the walls of their temple, still deep in thought when a noise out of the ordinary caught his attention.

Familiar as the feeling of someone creeping up on him in every single recent night hunt, Song Lan countered Xue Yang’s attack easily.

An amused grin sparked on his opponent’s face, and Song Lan quirked at eyebrow at him. « Back to breaking in? »

Xue Yang shrugged. « No, they let me in. »

That was hardly believable. When he gave him a puzzled look, Xue Yang took the opportunity to strike again, and Song Lan had to dodge to the side. Tricky little thing, but Fuxue responded easily to every blow, no matter how chaotic Xue Yang’s swordplay was.

« This spot isn’t suitable, we have fighting grounds for a reason, » Song Lan said eventually, watching him take a moment to catch his breath from how hard he was cackling.

Xue Yang burst into a fit of giggles again. « You think I want to spar with you? »

« Then what are you doing? » he asked, earnest, because he was starting to get a headache trying to figure out what in the world had been going on in his mind lately.

Obviously, he didn’t get a straight answer. « I guess we’ll find out, » said Xue Yang, never devoid of that cockiness bordering on danger.

The glint in his eye was different from the one Song Lan had seen on him in town. There was no actual murderous intent there, only a hint of amusement, perhaps elation, like fighting Song Lan was the most entertaining thing in the world for him to do.

Xue Yang grew restless by the second, each hit more aggressive than the other until his onslaught had Song Lan pinned against the wall.

He couldn’t tell what was going on in his mind, what his goal was, what exactly he was trying to prove: it was always a show with him, now, ruffling his feathers for the sole purpose of exhibiting how much of a bad person he was to Song Lan, and how much worse he could be.

Obviously, Song Lan did not care for the way he painted himself. Not until he learnt how to break down those endless layers of defensiveness.

They were at a stalemate, blades crossed between them with barely any effort in fighting off one another now. Stuck in the pretense of a fight, like a metaphor for their entire relationship.

Xue Yang was closer, looked up at him with a grin like he had won whatever match he’d conjured in his head.

Song Lan really didn’t understand him anymore. He wanted to pull him close and take away all the edges he’d sharpened on himself just to seem bigger, scarier.

« Have you had enough fun? »

« If you stopped holding back, I just might, » was Xue Yang’s sugary answer. He’d seen Song Lan’s fierceness attacking monsters during night hunts, and wished for that to be turned against him.

« Can we not talk like regular people? »

« Sure, and get some tea and desserts on the side too, while we’re at it? »

« It certainly would be more pleasant than meeting like this. »

« Why do you pretend you want to catch up with me as if we were friends? »

Ah, that’s what he was looking for. An hint of truth hidden in his mockery. « All I hear is you do wish we were. » It was always gratifying to watch Xue Yang’s expression falter. « I wouldn’t be against talking, for the record. »

« Yeah, that’s all you fucking do around here, » Xue Yang grumbled. Deflection. « Talk and ponder useless points, wander back and forth, I don’t need to ask you how you’ve been doing these years. »

« What about you? »

« Alright, here’s the thing … » he stepped back from Song Lan, dropped the grin and lowered his sword at his side.

That was … quick? Strangely easy? Song Lan shouldn’t have let his guard down, especially knowing him, but the sudden genuinity in his tone had taken him by surprise.

Only a moment after Song Lan had also relaxed, Xue Yang attacked again: his back was once again pressed against the wall, Fuxue kicked off of his grip, and Xue Yang’s sword – Jiangzai, if he remembered correctly, another attempt at showing off his malignity  – was a breadth away from cutting into his neck. One of his wrists was trapped in Xue Yang’s hold, the other hand kept Xue Yang’s own arm from getting too close for comfort.

Really, that was on him. He should have seen it coming, clear as day.

« Do you really want to know? » Xue Yang tried to press closer, and that stupid grin was back on.

Song Lan wished he could have wiped it off of him. He wasn’t bothered by their position, if Xue Yang really wanted to hurt him, he wouldn’t have the same calculated and precise care in keeping Jiangzai the perfect amount of space away for it not to cut him if he accidentally slipped. It was all a game, all the same show of pretense, Xue Yang wanted him to see the persona he’d crafted as a real part of him. He wanted Song Lan to push him away and have the gratification of being right all along.

To him, Song Lan was like a loose end that bothered him, one he had to cut off once and for all.

He was not going to give him the satisfaction. Not if he didn’t give him a proper reason.

« Why did you come back? » he asked.

Xue Yang tilted his head at him, as though he was studying him. « It’s not for sentimentalism, though I missed fucking around here. Did you see the looks I got last time? Poetry. »

Song Lan sighed. Who up above had decided to punish him so? « Xue Yang. Can you stop avoiding the matter and tell me the truth for once? »

« What’s there to say? » Xue Yang’s smile widened, turned sharper.

« Where have you been, for starters? »

There, he looked at Song Lan with such condescension, as though he’d figured him all out. « Why, wanna know where to chase me to finally bring me to justice, or something? »

Song Lan was done with his line of thought. « Fine, » he said, « If you won’t be honest, I will. » He focused on that fake smile of his, so he could watch it crumble along with that godforsaken mask. « I’ve been worried about you. »

Imperceptible, but the first crack showed in a twitch of Xue Yang’s eyes. « Worried? About what? What I might do without your holy supervision? »

« About you becoming something you aren’t, » Song Lan continued, undeterred.

« Pray tell, then, Song-daozhang. What am I? » Xue Yang’s gaze turned piercing as well. Good, he knew he was calling his bluff.

« You learnt to read by yourself, didn’t you? The texts you stole– I still remember them, and they were not topics easily understood by someone your age. »

Xue Yang shrugged. « They were stupid concepts about stupid ideas. »

« It doesn’t change the fact that a thirteen-year-old with no prior education usually wouldn’t understand the scrolls you stole. » Song Lan stood his ground, although within he kept pleading for him to actually understand what he meant for once, to accept there was at least someone who could see the best part of him.

There was something in Xue Yang that seemed to have started shifting, and maybe, maybe he was starting to recognise his words despite the wall he hid behind. « And? It’s not my fault other people are stupid. »

Song Lan paused. He saw it then, the quiet curiosity in Xue Yang’s gaze, almost leaning closer, almost desperate to know what he truly thought. With the hand holding Xue Yang’s arm back, he found himself brushing the spot of skin that joined his wrist and palm. « You ask me who you are, I say you’re much more than you give yourself credit for. More than you think you can be. » Xue Yang had lost his smile, his stare travelling between his eyes and mouth as though he couldn’t quite make out what he was saying. Song Lan swallowed, and found that if he pushed at his arm a little, Xue Yang allowed him to move the sword away. « If you’d let me– »

The words died in his throat as the sound of pierced flesh filled the space between them.

Xue Yang stiffened under him. Careful, slow and clinical, he let go and turned around without even sparing a single glance at the blood rapidly staining his clothes.

Behind him, his gaze met with a boy no more than fifteen years of age, staring back with both terror and anger in his eyes. The hold on his sword, still stuck in Xue Yang’s body, was a shaky one.

Song Lan could barely get out of his shock. « A-Yin! » he called out, in a mixture of reproach and disbelief. He still held onto Xue Yang’s arm as the latter softly giggled his way through his own surprise.

A-Yin startled into retracting his sword on instinct, and Song Lan couldn’t have possibly predicted this encounter to have gone worse.

Xue Yang staggered backwards, caught himself, and took more steps away from them, wrenching out of Song Lan’s hold; his laughter grew, half-wheezed out as he held a hand to the gaping hole above his left hip, like it could do anything about the blood starting to trickle its way through his fingers. He raised Jiangzai but didn’t point it at anyone in particular. « Lucky. You’ve outsmarted me, » he grumbled, the grin on his face off and distant.

No. He wasn’t going to let him think this was an ambush. Song Lan took a step forward, eyes wide with worry over his wound. « Xue Yang, »

« Shixiong-! »

« Not another goddamn step! » Jiangzai was now clearly aimed towards him, but Song Lan couldn’t find it in himself to care for the increasing ire – something like a hint of betrayal – on his face.

« Let me– »

« No. » Xue Yang’s face twisted for an instant, his voice wobbling along with it, and quickly recovered into a snarl. « Fuck you, » he said. This time it felt like he meant it much more than anything he’d ever said.

Song Lan’s heart broke when he noticed him instinctively recoiling from him. « We have medical rooms, » he tried, begged in his mind that this hadn’t just ruined everything.

« Do you need me to cut off your ears so you have an excuse to not listen to what I’m fucking saying? » Xue Yang pointed his sword towards a-Yin, wide eyes still fixed on Song Lan. « One step closer and I’m slicing his head clean off. »

Song Lan stilled. He wouldn’t do it. He knew he wouldn’t do it, but maybe this way he could escalate it. « Please, » he said, earnest and desperate, wishing he could just reach out and–

« Fuck you, » Xue Yang repeated, like he couldn’t believe he was even suggesting to help him. He did not turn his back on them as he paced backwards. With effort, he willed a smirk on his face. « I’ll get you next time. »

He didn’t allow any time to react. A talisman flashed between them, and the moment after Song Lan was left to stare at a cloud of mist, barely able to make out a-Yin’s approaching figure.

Of course he’d run away to lick at his own wounds without accepting a shred of help. Worst of all, he must’ve thought he intended for him to be hurt on purpose–

A-Yin looked remorseful when the mist cleared up: he held his own arm, sword sheathed, and his eyes were fixed anywhere but on Song Lan. « I- I’m really sorry. I apologise, I thought– I really thought he was going to hurt you! »

Song Lan wished he didn’t feel any anger or exasperation over the situation. He took in his shidi’s condition, waiting before replying to him.

The boy was clearly terrified out of his mind, hands still shaking at the sole thought of having stabbed a human person for the first time, heart thumping from fear of potentially losing his senior. A-Yin had seen him with a sword a single breath away from cutting at his neck, what else could he have known or done?

« I didn’t … » a-Yin’s lip wobbled.

Song Lan imagined he wanted to tell him he didn’t mean it, that he wasn’t resentful over Xue Yang, that he had been scared. Rightfully so. He sighed, the upsetting feeling fading away. « You didn’t know I had it under control. It was an unfortunate incident. »

He stepped closer. A-Yin had been only eight when they lost Mu Xianggeng. « But I did have it under control, okay? » he said, softer, searching for his eyes, and only nodded when a-Yin looked back at him. « Everything is fine. »

« Okay. » croaked the boy, despite the tears welling up in his eyes.

« Go take a moment. We’ll talk more after I find him. »

A-Yin nodded back, then bowed. « Please, let me know how he is and … bring my apologies, » he said, sniffing amidst of it, and turned to escape where he could let out the tension that had built up, and probably shed a few tears.

His junior was still extremely emotional; despite working hard to remain calm, he often let his feelings get the best of him, and Song Lan wondered how much of it had come from not properly overcoming the heavy toll they’d all gone through.

Perhaps he should talk to him about it.

Finding Xue Yang hadn’t been difficult. The disappearing act had been nothing more than for show, all Song Lan had to do was follow the very obvious blood trail.

It led him to the small watercourse right behind their temple, where Xue Yang was already busy stitching and dressing his own wound as though he felt no pain, as though his body was a practice puppet and he a doctor’s student.

« You must’ve gotten stupider by the years, » was Xue Yang’s comment when he side eyed Song Lan sitting next to him with the medical tools he had grabbed on his way there. « Who in their right mind comes to fix the guy they want to cut up? Unless we’re talking about torture. »

Song Lan grimaced at the idea, and set down the makeshift box he’d quickly put together. He leaned into his space, and Xue Yang flinched away, looking up at him with sudden seriousness, and big, painful eyes masked by anger.

Song Lan held his gaze, but let nothing transpire. He couldn’t afford to scare him away again.

« What the fuck do you think you’re doing? » Xue Yang’s practiced fingers had stilled over his wound. Surprisingly, his work wasn’t sloppy at all.

It only made Song Lan wonder how often he’d gotten hurt to that extent, for him to be as good at it.

« I told you to fuck off, go praise your shidi or whatever it is you do in this situation. »

He exhaled a deep, exasperated sigh, and reached out despite every sign telling him not to.

« Just what the fuck are you– »

Song Lan decided it was time to stop letting him run his mouth. « This is whatever it is we do in this situation, » he informed, gaining a confused look when he inspected the already stitched cut. « I don’t suppose you can easily treat a wound behind you. »

Xue Yang scoffed. « Done it before, » he grumbled, but simply accepted it when Song Lan placed himself beside him and started cleaning the injury on his back.

One too many scars were littering his skin. Song Lan tried not to think about any of them as he worked, tried not to think about the feeling of blood on his fingers and the urge to scrape his nails five times in a row. Xue Yang’s own spiritual energy had done a great job at stalling the blood loss already: having stopped there, Song Lan decided on an infusion of his own to accelerate the process until the wound was closed properly.

« You’re fuckin’ weird, » Xue Yang grumbled again in the middle of it. « Who does that? »

Part of the tension had left his body, leaving only wariness at being so exposed in front of someone he, somehow, still regarded as an enemy.

« My shidi is regretful of his actions, » Song Lan said, when the qi infusion ended. All he got back was an incredulous, barked laugh. « He asked me to bring you his apologies. »

« Holy shit, you’re all actually braindead. »

« It was a misunderstanding. »

« A misunderstanding? » Xue Yang turned to face him, and internally winced about twisting the part of his body that had just been skewered right through like tanghulu. Still, he didn’t turn back. « I held Jiangzai against your fucking neck. I was seconds away from– »

« From what? » Song Lan raised his brows at him, completely unimpressed. It put Xue Yang off, leaving him without a quick retort, his eyes twitching. « Please, enlighten me. »

Xue Yang’s head twitched, too. « I was gonna– »

Song Lan waited, stared right back at him, and when no real answer came, he allowed a small smile to dance on his lips. « Turn around. You’ll put all your work to waste. »

« I’d rather bleed to death right now, » Xue Yang mumbled, as Song Lan moved away only to clean the blood off his hands in the stream they’d sat by.

He shook his head as he grabbed a great deal of bandages, and started wrapping them around his body. « A-Yin is really sorry. He’s just a boy, » he said, echoing words of his past. « He can still barely hold his sword straight. I’m surprised he was able to get you. »

« You really are raising prodigies over there, » Xue Yang spat, probably still mad about the implication that he’d been distracted enough not to notice the boy.

« I am sorry, too, » he said, because he felt like he’d somehow betrayed him. With gentle hands, he secured the gauze over his waist in a way that made Xue Yang exhale a shaky breath, almost inaudible. « I didn’t imagine you’d get hurt. I didn’t want you to. Our temple should be a safe haven for all. » He watched from behind how Xue Yang’s hands tensed and curled into fists.

« That was supposed to be the whole point. »

Song Lan tilted his head. Did he mean he wanted to get hurt, or that he wanted it to be Song Lan specifically who hurt him? What kind of point was he trying to prove to himself? « Why? »

Xue Yang stared at him like an incomprehensible set of characters. « Do you genuinely not want to hurt me? Not even a little bit? » 

« Why ever would I? »

He let out a breath, softly. « What the fuck. »

« Never in my life have I ever wanted harm to come to you, » Song Lan clarified, kept his voice even despite the burning feeling bubbling in his chest. Was he finally going to understand? Was he going to listen and believe that Song Lan had never been against him?

In response, he received a derisive chuckle. « Not even when I beat up your shidi? »

« No, » he said. He made sure Xue Yang was still looking at him then, noticed the small shift in his expression. « I just wanted you to talk to me. To really talk to me, about what was going on inside your head. »

Xue Yang shrugged, looked away, too exposed again. « Told you before, it's not pretty in there. »

It was incredible that they were even still having this conversation, Song Lan could not afford to let go now. « I can't emphasise how much I don't care. » He moved to sit next to him so Xue Yang stopped twisting his body. « You do matter to me. I've known you all my life, and I've only seen you change in ways that worry me. »

And you keep leaving whenever I try to approach the matter, he wanted to add.

Xue Yang exhaled another laugh, a light one this time, that meant he was still caught off guard, unprepared. « I think you should chill out. Who the fuck thinks so much about one guy that pisses them off? » he inched away when Song Lan tried to reach for him again, and stood instead. « Rethink your priorities, daozhang, they're all in the wrong places. »

There was the deflecting. Song Lan really hoped he was about to break through for once, but that was obvious wishful thinking. At least, judging by the way Xue Yang looked bothered, and ready to bolt at any second, like danger was nearby, he must have at least struck his subconscious.

One thing at a time.

« Next time, come visit properly, » he said, and expected it when Xue Yang turned around and scoffed.

« I wasn't visiting. »

Song Lan allowed himself a small smile. « I'll see you soon. Let me take a look at your wounds next time. »

« Shut up, » Xue Yang grumbled, and stormed away while putting his robes back on like a toddler in a tantrum.

One thing at a time.

There was only one way to bring things to an end, once and for all.

At least, that must have been what Xue Yang thought. He must have thought that Song Lan’s kindness had been performative all his life, had constructed this belief in his head that they hated each other. And now that Song Lan, even after seven years apart, did not fit his role and still exhibited genuine care, it was a problem.

One to take care of.

Song Lan wasn’t one to have troubled sleep. He rarely woke up in the middle of the night, so when he did, there was usually a reason behind it.

This time, it was because Xue Yang was right above him, holding a dagger against his neck as he kept himself up with one hand on the bed.

Although the instinctive sense of danger woke him up at once, Song Lan still took a moment to actually register the situation, the feeling of a blade against his skin like a sense of déjà-vu. Under the feeble moonlight that came from outside, Xue Yang’s eyes were wide with something that wasn’t surprise, or fear.

Song Lan just kept watch, didn’t say a word, which unsettled Xue Yang further, and he took in the slight tremble in his body and how he hadn’t even restrained Song Lan.

He could have just gotten away at any point.

One of his assumptions was wrong; Xue Yang was scared. He was terrified of what all Song Lan had told him meant, terrified of one person in the world being able to dig under the surface and get scarily close to the core of him.

So, in Xue Yang’s mind, he needed to be gone.

Something told him that wasn’t what he truly wanted. Something told him he yearned to be truly seen, desperate for Song Lan to give him a reason to throw away that knife and let him be okay with it.

It was a bit of a crazy thought, Song Lan had to admit, what he did next: eyes still on him, he slowly reached up with his hands until they cupped Xue Yang’s face and listened to his breath hitch.

He just held him, tried to make out more of the details in his expression, and then one of his hands lowered to take a hold of the one gripping the dagger. He didn’t pull it away from Xue Yang, he just … caressed him. Relaxed, watched him.

Xue Yang’s brows furrowed, mouth twisted like he was about to cry.

It was a pity that fragility looked so pretty on him.

« Do something, » he told Song Lan, sounding nothing more than begging. « Come on, » Xue Yang urged, more like he was wondering why Song Lan wasn’t throwing him away already.

Wasn’t allowing that old, antagonistic familiarity that he’d carefully built their relationship around inside his head. One, simple rejection, and everything would be back to normal, and Xue Yang could be at ease.

Song Lan did move. It was only to bring the hand in his hold to his lips, leave a kiss on its back, ignoring the dagger hovering over his face.

A stubborn thing on his part.

Despite being unable to see very well, he could tell a million emotions crossed Xue Yang’s face. It just couldn’t settle on a single one, and when Song Lan dared to smile at him, he snapped out of it.

Xue Yang returned the blade threatening against his neck, taking a hold of the front of his zhongyi for good measure.

There was an attempt at a snarl on his face that Song Lan could see once Xue Yang leaned down, but it was distracted, half-hearted.

« Your self-preservation skills– » he started, choking on his own words as he tried to place his anger and confusion in the right spots. As he stared at the millimeter of space between blade and skin. « Are fucked. »

« I love you, » said Song Lan, because it had been true for enough time that whatever aggression Xue Yang could ever throw at him, it wouldn’t have mattered to him. He would always care, in the same way his other hand was still caressing his cheek, still showing tenderness against the sharpness in Xue Yang’s eyes.

Baby steps be damned.

« That’s not, » sharpness turned into bewilderment, into a panicked sort of wonder. Xue Yang swallowed the knot in his throat, pushed the dagger further. « That’s not what you’re supposed to say. »

Song Lan reached up with his free hand to run fingers through Xue Yang’s hair. His smile softened. « I love you. »

« You don’t even know me, » was the protest that came, but all he focused on was the way Xue Yang turned into his touch for but a second before twisting the zhongyi in his grip again.

« I know you, » Song Lan countered, calm in a way he shouldn’t be with a weapon an inch away from taking his life. « I know I long for you. I know my heart was bursting when you came back. » He pulled gently at his face until he was close enough for his whisper to be heard. « I know I love you. »

« I’m going to kill you, » Xue Yang looked terrified, yet he was the one with his hand on the dagger’s handle. Helpless, as though he was the one being threatened.

Song Lan’s smile turned into a soft laugh as he brushed his thumbs over Xue Yang’s cheeks. « Okay, » he said, a genuine acceptance of his fate.

And still with a blade against his throat, Song Lan leaned up to kiss him.

His heart hurt with it, with how Xue Yang remained incredibly still, almost in awe, even after they parted. « What … » he mumbled, stared at Song Lan blankly, all thoughts wiped from his mind at once. The grip on his dagger faltered for an instant.

Song Lan’s smile was warm when he kissed him again, slowly, carefully, until Xue Yang let go of him and splayed his hand on his chest to push into him and then push away abruptly.

Wide eyes trembled and twisted his expression again. He gripped one of his sleeves this time, making to pull his hand away from his face. « What the hell– what the hell is broken in you! » Xue Yang moved to squeeze his wrist instead. « How can you possibly be so fucking stupid! You’re not supposed to– This isn’t how it should’ve gone! »

Song Lan was silently grateful that his roommates were still away travelling.

How else should it have gone? Was there even a possible scenario in which he did not end up treasuring him? With how Song Lan’s heart bled for him so easily?

« Do you have a death wish?! Do you seriously– » Xue Yang watched his unchanging placidity, felt the way his other hand still soothed his skin.

« I do, » Song Lan wasn’t even sure what he was replying to. « I do love you. »

« No, » Xue Yang seemed to recoil the same way he did after he’d been stabbed. « No, you can’t. How did this fucking happen, » he leaned away, his tone bordering on horrified, like there was something extremely wrong he couldn’t control.

As he sat up straight, he discarded his dagger on the floor to bring his own hands to his face, a genuine kind of terror displayed there.

It was when he heard the first stifled sob that Song Lan followed, searching his face for anything other than panic.

He did expect the genuine truth to throw him off enough to need more than a double take, but the worry in Song Lan’s heart festered further: just how much had Xue Yang convinced himself that he was nothing but an unlovable monster?

Song Lan took his hands in his own, and surprisingly there was no protest to that. He waited, patient, tried to soothe him in his hold until tears started spilling. They were unforgivable, cutting up his heartstrings each time Xue Yang’s shoulders shook with them.

He wished he could embrace him, to hold him tight, kiss the top of his head and tell him it would be alright, whatever he was thinking, but he feared with Xue Yang it would only be the wrong move.

So Song Lan just intertwined their fingers, tightened his hold to remind him he was there, that he wasn’t going to let go, no matter what he said.

Between his tears, Xue Yang shook his head vehemently. « You can’t … »

Whoever had broken him to the point of breaking down when met with affection, Song Lan just wanted to talk. He chanced raising a hand and resting it against his cheek again; he sighed when Xue Yang turned his face towards it like he did before, looking like he wanted to hide away in it.

It was almost obvious how Xue Yang wanted to accept his tenderness so badly, yet couldn’t allow himself, like it physically hurt him if he even tried.

Song Lan wiped away the tears falling on his fingers. « Won’t you tell me what’s bothering you? »

Xue Yang pulled away to grab onto his clothes again, nearly shaking him. « Listen, » he said, looked at him with shattered eyes and tried to get a hold of his breathing and his hoarse voice. « Listen, I’ll let you say all those stupid things you keep saying tonight. And then– starting tomorrow, you’ll fucking stop being stupid. You’ll hate me like everyone else and you won’t think about me ever again, okay? »

There was a silent, pleading look staring right back when Song Lan furrowed his brows at him. He blinked, Xue Yang one breath away from madness. « No. »

Xue Yang’s exhale was deep and shaky. « For fuck’s sake, » his voice broke, and he pulled Song Lan into him before wrapping his arms all over him. He pushed against his lips more than he was even kissing him.

Song Lan ignored how he was biting him a little more harsher than needed, he took the opportunity to finally bring him into his arms, securing him against him before he could retreat inside his walls again.

Each breath Xue Yang took was still hitched, his limbs still shaking; it didn’t stop him from claiming his mouth again and again, from cursing every other moment, reminding Song Lan how idiotic all of his life choices were, and kissing him before he could respond.

Tears streamed down his face at different intervals, to the point not even Xue Yang was caring what the hell was even happening within himself.

Song Lan wanted to stop and check on him, but he barely had any time to breathe. Xue Yang was on him before he could think to do anything else, in a mixture of accepting that he did want him too, and daring him to let go first.

Another choked sob against his mouth, and Xue Yang was forced to let his head fall on Song Lan’s shoulder, his fingers gripping at him so tight he might’ve bored holes in him.

« It’s all wrong, » he whined.

Song Lan wasn’t sure what he meant, but he held him through it anyway, pressing kisses to his temple and carding his fingers through his hair, hushing him whenever the sobs grew more frantic.

He distantly wondered if this was the first time anyone ever held him through his cries.

« Fuck you, » Xue Yang kept muttering in his woes. « Damn it all. »

By the time he quieted, he looked exhausted, devoid of himself, and Song Lan’s heart had shattered over and over an inconceivable number of times.

Xue Yang stared at him with dull, dead eyes for a long moment. « Song Lan, » he said, although his attention was already on him. He blinked, slowly, and leaned in to kiss him again, with a softness that Song Lan hadn’t been aware he could muster, something to take his breath away again, to make his own eyes itch.

After another quick peck to his lips, Xue Yang fell almost weightless into his embrace, settling close between his arms. « I wish I had the chance to get used to this. »

A quiet, mumbled truth.

Song Lan was the one to hold him tight as they laid down to rest and fight the urge to cry this time.

Song Lan woke up first the day after.

He watched the quiet rise and fall of Xue Yang’s chest, the innocent softness of his features that was a rare sight on his face.

Someone that could look so peaceful, yet only allowed himself tranquillity when he was unconscious.

Song Lan was still embracing him; he refused to let go, for as long as Xue Yang let him keep him. What he’d been told the night before still grated at his feelings, Xue Yang insinuating that he should hate him, that he could ever take a deal as stupid as pushing him away once and for all …

He’d looked so frightened, out of his mind, like a simple miscalculation on reading Song Lan’s behaviour had completely overthrown his world.

Song Lan understood the shock, but– there was so much more in his reaction that hadn’t yet been dug out.

There were other reasons why Xue Yang was always so adamant in pushing their “rivalry” forward, in displaying their actions as ones born out of hatred, in painting Song Lan’s opinion of him as stained, full of contempt.

Just like the persona he put on in public, all of that was nothing more than a protective shield.

And when that wall crumbled, destruction followed.

Song Lan couldn’t explain why it seemed Xue Yang’s mistake felt so cosmically catastrophic to him, and he knew it was going to take much longer to get the answer out of him.

Granted Xue Yang stayed around, and didn’t run away again. At least, he’d finally understand that Song Lan would still be in his corner, whenever he needed him.

He’d be content with the sole knowledge that Xue Yang knew he loved him, really, without twisting his words again.

Xue Yang woke up when he had started caressing his face: his sleepy eyes took their time to properly focus on him, and Song Lan decided to greet him with a small smile despite the turmoil in his heart.

« You’re still being stupid? » he muttered, arching an eyebrow at him.

Song Lan hummed in confirmation. « Still extremely stupid. »

Xue Yang laughed to himself, quiet. « I should’ve known, » he said, something that he probably meant it to come out mocking and failed. He watched him through narrowed eyes. « Why aren’t you like everyone else? People around here aren’t exactly geniuses. »

« I trust you, » Song Lan said simply, more ammunition that was sure to throw him off even harder. Just what he needed.

But it was the truth.

Xue Yang looked at him for a long moment, it seemed a scowl wanted to worm itself onto his face. « … you know I’m no longer that dumb idiot who just wanted more candy, yeah? »

« Let me help you, » Song Lan reached for his hands this time, without taking his eyes off of him. « Everything I said until now, everything you refuted, I meant it. I think the world of you. » When Xue Yang frowned at him, Song Lan sighed out his frustration and kissed the top of his head. « So whatever it is, let me help you. »

It took a while before Xue Yang stopped looking like he’d personally offended him, and he got out of his hold to stretch the same way a cat would waking up from a nap. « Do you guys have breakfast here? I’m starving. »

Deflection, for the umpteenth time. They were right back to square one.

Song Lan almost laughed at how hysterical their situation was becoming. He sat up, and finally stood to head where he’d hung his robes before going to sleep. « Let me get changed. »

He’d said it himself. One thing at a time.

Hua Guo’en was having a mighty wonderful morning. The air was crisp, their path smelled like it had rained overnight, and his friend hadn’t talked his ear off just yet.

A-Le hadn’t woken up fully: he’d fallen asleep late since his adrenaline rush after a successful mission decided to wear off way past midnight, and had worn him out entirely when the time to walk back to their temple came.

By now, on a normal day, he would have already been talking about the strategy they took on their night hunt, their strengths and weaknesses, what they needed to work on, and a few notes on the memorable parts of their fight.

It was always pretty endearing, but Guo’en enjoyed the sounds of nature far more, when the occasion came.

« I really miss my bed … » was the first thing a-Le said, a little after they crossed their temple entrance.

Hua Guo’en smiled at him; perhaps he could drop him off to their room before heading for breakfast. Although … perhaps he should report about their success first?

Ah, surely their shifu wouldn’t mind if he preferred to discuss matters on a full stomach …

The two headed indeed to their corridor, and almost picked up the pace when they noticed Song Zichen come out of their room.

They’d missed him! They were so often here and there lately, that they hadn’t had the time to catch up; he and a-Le had caught notice of that one guy – was their name for him xiao Tang? – from their childhood coming back all of a sudden. They wanted to know if he–

Hua Guo’en extended an arm in front of a-Le to stop him. Both of them froze when they saw both their friend and the little pest come out of their room.

Were they … were they holding hands?

A-Le slapped – quietly – a hand to his mouth as his eyes widened, and for good measure covered Guo’en’s aghast one as well.

They remained silent as the other two made their way out, staying out of sight.

« Oh my Heavens, » a-Le commented, once they were safely alone. He grabbed his friend’s arm and shook him a little. « That was them! That was absolutely them! »

Guo’en still stared at the spot where they’d left. Slowly, he turned towards a-Le, and in an instant he broke off into an uncharacteristic grin. « I knew it! »

« We knew it! We absolutely knew it! »

He pulled him forward, suddenly filled with renewed energy. « He’s never going to hear the end of this! »

« I need all the details. Let’s go bother him. »

The two snickered between one another, gaining a few glares from other disciples when they burst into a light run for their dining hall.