Chapter Text
The moon rises white
illuminating your beauty,
your shadow which wounds me
until my heart’s devoured
It was these words which sealed the fate of the Wu kingdom. Most commoners labored and suffered and paid taxes, no matter if there was a war or not. No matter on which side they were.
Some lose hope faster than others, but many inexperienced and hopeful souls — children playing, young sweethearts, monks, elders — would believe their rulers would protect them so long as they labored their lives away and kept to themselves.
That was the matter of war. On both sides, there'll be the souls too innocent to be left alive. Those who thought that their safety was in the hands of councils and kings; logic and concern. Those who thought that a decision was made with advisors and worry for the public.
But the fate of the Wu kingdom was dealt between poetry and hearts.
For the moon rose white, dripping its milky light and pooling it on Xishi's skin, her face twisted in haunting nightmares as she stirred, plagued and as if remembering where she was. Fuchai was weakened by the sight; his heart ached and his words felt useless against his tongue.
He once thought being a king could solve everything, as a king he could have and offer everything, but he could not ease Xishi's pain, or his own. All he had to offer was a title bloodied and stained by the memory of his brother.
Fuchai, exhaling, swept his damp hair away from his eyes and pulled the blankets over Xishi's shoulders. “Xishi,” murmured softly to not startle her. “Are you well? Should I call the physician?”
Xishi's eyes opened and he saw himself in her gaze. Weak. Useless to help the only precious thing he'd ever had between jewels and riches. She took him in, as if memorizing the planes of his features. As if seeing him for the first and last time.
It was strange. She looked pained as she closed her eyes. Did someone hurt her? Was she sick?
Her hand found his, and though both of their hands were cold, Fuchai felt warmth gathering at the contact on their skin. “Fuchai,” her voice was low, as if she had tasted the name in her mouth before speaking. As if it tasted bittersweet. “No, I'm well… it's just my old illness.”
Fuchai frowned, his thumb stroking over her hand as he tilted his head. He remembers Xishi telling him there was no cure. “Is there anything I can do?”
She looks at him for a very long time, really looks. The moon illuminates her eyes, a sadness welling up inside them even as she smiles. Xishi lifts a hand, and frames it against Fuchai's face.
“What do you think about holding a banquet?”
Fuchai's frown disappears. It was nice, knowing he could help, somewhere where he was actually useful to the person he loves. Even if he couldn't erase her pain or make her confide in him, he can cradle it with her. He could try.
It was not the first time he'd seen the deep sorrow behind Xishi's eyes, but he could never get her to speak about it. He just hoped she remembered he was there.
“Of course.” he says without hesitation, and for some reason, it makes Xishi's eyes fill with tears. He panics and immediately pulls her gently closer.
Still kneeling beside her, with her sitting up, Fuchai's and Xishi's shadows twist on the floor. It must've been a trick of light but Xishi's shadow stretches over them both.
It felt like a bruise to admit, but the decisions of state were made in those quiet moments. In the gamble of heartbeats, leaving all participants heartsore and aching.
But the commoners would still be paying taxes, mourning their dead, and hoping to be protected. The mothers would wait for their boys to return from war, the siblings would mourn their kin, the sweethearts’ love decays before it blooms. The war will end, and,
somewhere, someone would be thinking: I do not know who sold our homeland. But I saw who paid the price.
-
Xishi knew. This was it.
Two years of living in a lavished palace with all wealth and affection showered on her. This was the ending, she could see it before her eyes as she surveyed the banquet arrangements before her. Officially, it was for the completion of the canal Xishi had asked Fuchai to build. Only she and Fuchai knew it was to lift her spirits.
It will all end soon. She should feel relieved shouldn't she? This was all that she ever wanted. For the Wu to fall. For them to pay for their wretched crimes for it did not matter to her from king to subject; the Wu were foul.
They took Susu from her. They took everything. But she could only feel stillness in her chest, that alike of being in the eye of the storm as she watches the Grand Hall's transformation.
It was filled with dancers and musicians, the tables polished and golden and the walls decorated with hangings and every vase across each table filled with fresh flowers and a wide set of dishes cooked by the best cooks in all of the land. The hum of conversation engulfed the air, and outside the tall windows, the world was as beautiful and blooming as a painting.
The trees were growing again, the grass was lush green and the earth had abandoned its wintry cloak and welcomed the spring like an old companion. Flowers branched out through the gardens and the sun was in its golden hour, kissing the stained glass windows.
It was such a wonderful day.
Xishi glanced at the spotless floor, washed until she could see her reflection in it. Her beauty that had led her here. A clean floor, ready to be stained in blood.
“Is everything to your liking?” Fuchai chirped beside her, he was smiling and eager to please. But beneath his light-hearted tone, Xishi knew he was desperate to know what she thought.
Xishi smiled, wide and as earnest as she could. “Of course. It's amazing.”
Then lightly, lying through her teeth, she added, “I’m feeling so much better. Seeing the aliveness of this place.”
Fuchai beamed as if she had hung the stars in the sky. He squeezed her hand, and they walked together to the seats at the head of the table, surrounded by two large tables meeting at the head.
As guests took their seats, and the buzzing of conversations shuffled through the air, someone announced. “King Goujian and Minister Fanli of the Yue Kingdom,”
The speaking person continued announcing each arrival of the nobles and royals visiting the banquet to celebrate the completion of the canal. The canal that will be the way for Yue soldiers to overtake the Wu.
And though conversation kept going and the world was moving around her, Xishi felt as if time was suspended. As she glimpsed Fanli taking a seat across, his hair braided for the first time and his robes deep blue, she felt as if she was missing something crucial.
As if the previous two years were spent trying to solve a jigsaw, curate it, control it and there had been a missing piece she was certain would be here, at the end of it all. But instead of the jigsaw being complete, it was all coming apart.
Fuchai was looking at her. But she couldn't meet his gaze as he passed her a goblet of juice, saying something about how she looked pale.
Xishi could feel it all disappear.
She was no longer in the banquet, the voices all faded to nothing until she was only with her thoughts and the impending feeling of there's no turning back now. No second choices. No turns of fate. Only her own handiwork. A cycle, coming to an end.
Though she looked at neither, she could feel Fuchai beside her. Cold, warm, heartless, full of love; a contradiction. Someone who held and treasured her but has hurt her through hurting others. And Fanli. The space between them felt infinite, and yet all too close. Someone who wasn't always open, wasn't perfect but had taken a sword to the chest for her.
Two sides of her life, herself.
Guilt hit her in the chest until it felt like real physical pain. As if someone nailed a shard of glass in her heart. She couldn't bear to be the one surviving while the Wu butchered her country, while her small village starved and no one could stop it. She couldn't bear to be here and neither could she bear to be anywhere else. She felt guilty for doing this to Fuchai, she realized, and she hated herself for it.
Taking a deep breath, Xishi tried to ground her senses on the aroma and fragrance of meals and seasonings filling the platters laid on the table. The smell of white lilies in all of the vases in the hall — Fuchai did that at her request, she thought it was fitting, death was knocking on the door and soon wine and blood would mix on the floors. The sunlight, the itch of her black lace gloves.
Goujian and Fuchai were exchanging smiles and pleasantries. Fanli, too, his smile false and listless.
But what actually caught her gaze was Luyi. She did not expect him to be here, but he was standing just a few paces behind Fanli's seat. His hair was swept into a ponytail, his robes were teal, he was wearing pieces of armor which Xishi realized it was his first time seeing him in.
And he was looking directly at her.
Xishi smiled, brittle as glass. Luyi did not smile back, his eyes narrowed and he made a complex expression with his features and gestured vaguely. He looked like mimicking mowing a field with an axe.
Without meaning to, Xishi laughed softly at his absurdities, drawing the attention of Fuchai, Fanli, Goujian and nearby nobles.
Fuchai's eyes became crescent moons. “Is something the matter?
Leaning back, Xishi felt her lips actually curl into a real smile. Earnest. The realest she'd had for a long while, not the polished and practiced ones she displayed to the court.
“No,” She paused. “I’m just glad for such a happy occasion.”
Across from her, Luyi facepalmed and looked as if he was actually frustrated and helpless. Xishi realized that he might have been trying to tell her something, but she kept her smile on her face.
Fuchai seemed pleased with her answer. However Fanli read between the lines, and followed her earlier line of sight, but when he turned, Luyi was already laughing and conversing with someone else, as if nothing had happened.
Fanli's eyes twitched but he said nothing. He simply refilled his own glass of wine and drank. It was his fourth cup which was shocking, considering how much he was a person of self-discipline.
—
The moment Xishi and Fanli were alone, Xishi closed the door behind them, before stepping close to Fanli. The air seemed to hold its breath. This was the person she had thought of over and over across the years, only further tormenting herself, it almost felt strange to see him.
To be seen by him. And he looked. Not hungry or desirous, but concerned as if checking for wounds. As if he could see her hurt and resentment and yearning and all the times she wished she could go home and regretted all of this.
“Has your wounds healed?” she asked tentatively.
He breathed out. “No—you don't get to do that. You don't get to make this about me. Are you well?”
Xishi leaned her head against the wall, closing her eyes. She could feel her heartbeat rabbiting in her ribcage, resentment and love and anger curling. “The plan is going smoothly. I'm well. I have everything I want and everything I could've wanted don't I?”
Except for you.
Though her eyes were still closed. She could feel his eyes on her, as if he could see through her. “I taught you that. To conceal your thoughts. You can't fool me.”
She felt like sobbing. Suddenly everything she'd been holding in so long came apart, she couldn't handle the discomfort of being seen. The pain it brought, the memories. It hurt.
She hated that he could read her so well, she hated that he was the center of her thoughts for days, she hated the fact that even now he's being that responsible perfect advisor.
“And you don't know me as well as you think you do.” Xishi snapped, moving closer until they stood nose-to-nose.
“Xishi, I've missed you, I know you're hurt and I can see that but I promise once everything is done we will leave all of it behind. Far aw—”
Fanli obviously had way too many drinks. Xishi couldn't help but laugh, a cold and absent sound.
Maybe she was too angry and she had nowhere to store the anger, the blame, the confusion and uncertainty. She knew that it was unfair to let it all on Fanli, but she cloaked herself in her self-justification like armor.
“Is that all?” she said, her hands fisting into his robes, forcing him to look at her. Her voice shook. “You’ve only loved me when it was convenient for you. When it suited you, all you've ever done is guard yourself from me. Turn away. You have always been too scared to let someone love you—”
She took a long breath holding back tears. “But once I'm away, you come back. You get stabbed and let me see you bleeding. And I have to live with it. Do you know what you do to me?”
Fanli's pupils were dilated. He was so still that Xishi would've thought he hadn't been breathing, if she couldn't feel his heartbeat under her fingers, splayed just over his heart.
He exhaled. “Do you know what you do to me?”
his voice was dropping an octave, almost a whisper, as if his mind and mouth were working at the same time.
Xishi was about to retort something sharp when he gently covered her mouth with his palm. Not suffocating, just, needing to be heard.
“Xishi. Please.” he was smiling now, the way someone would smile through being burned. Xishi stilled and tried to listen. They didn't have much time. Though Fuchai trusted her and didn't suspect a thing, others would.
When she nodded, he lifted his palm away and spoke. Way too fast. “Zixu didn't capture me. I came here all by myself because he told me you were hurt. I knew it was a lie. I came anyway. You.. you undo me, my logic, my reasoning. It all falls away.
“It’s scary. It's scary and I'm such a coward but it hurts to bare my heart like that. But you make it worth it. Even though I know it's dangerous, even when all the cleverness that took me out of poverty is diminished. I trust you. I only have myself to blame for making you feel that pain for so long.”
I trust you was easier than I'm content in being unmade, as long as it's by you. My unmaking, at your hands, cruel and merciful.
Even now, speaking, Fanli's breath was shaky. He knew he was being stupid, but now that he spoke, the words were tumbling out. Not desperate, just, leaving the clutches of his mind where he blamed himself for months on sleepless nights.
He was almost afraid to look up at Xishi, but he willed himself for a little braveness as he met her gaze.
Her expression was broken and raw, and as she pulled him into a kiss, he could see that he looked just as broken in her eyes. He pulled her closer and felt her deepening the kiss and he kissed back. It was fierce, too much heat; as if both of them were trying to drown in it. To not let reality in. Her hand slid into his hair and he felt all of the world fall away, only her and him remained.
Fanli couldn't help but wonder if she was like this with Fuchai too, but he quickly banished the thought. She wasn't his to lose.
When they broke apart, it was to the sound of footfalls from the outside of the hall. Xishi pulled away instantly, startled. She hurriedly fixed her disheveled hair and looked one last time at Fanli.
He waited for her words, for closure, for the foolish hope that she understands.
Instead, she said in a broken breath,
“I wish I had never loved you.”
Maybe she didn't mean it. Maybe she did. It didn't matter, as she smiled her false smile and walked out, Fanli was left standing there. Motionless. He didn't have it in himself to laugh at the mess he'd made. He simply closed his eyes, still tasting the kiss lingering in his lips.
He wished he had never hoped at all.
But he didn't have the luxury of thinking it over as a knock echoed on his room's door. He gathered himself together and said tonelessly, “Come in.”
It was Luyi.
He stood uncertain in the doorway, picking up on the details that he learned to notice over the years. Fanli looked composed, save for the slight tremble of his left hand that he fisted into his own robes to steel himself.
Luyi wisely chose not to comment on it. Instead he gave a lopsided grin. “We might need to leave now and join the troops. Not exactly gonna miss this place, though the food was nice.”
Fanli ignored him and began preparing himself so they could leave as fast as possible. When they had weapons and armor ready they slipped through a passageway and discreetly mounted their horses.
The ride was silent and heavy, and Fanli could only watch the full moon on the horizon, as white as the lilies in the vases of the banquet.
He tilted his head and watched Luyi beside him instead. The guard had been humming a tune Fanli had heard him hum every year since he'd seen him. But otherwise he was quiet.
“Hmm. Am I so mesmerizing or are you plotting my demise?” Luyi quipped, a smile in his voice even as he didn't look at Fanli.
Fanli paused, he thought of Xishi's laughter, he was almost certain she had been looking at Luyi. Though maybe he was thinking too much, if something was the matter Luyi would've told him.
“Plotting your demise.”
Luyi chuckled and reined his horse closer to Fanli's. “I knew it. Are you planning to stab me in my sleep? No. Wait, that's a bit overused, poisoning my food, then? That would be more elegant but then I would advise to poison red bean rice balls then I wouldn't be able to resist.”
Fanli sighed, used to Luyi's chatter filling the air, he studied Luyi’s expression for a moment, concluded that he wasn't hiding anything and then looked away, lightly tapping his own horse’s reins and speeding up, leaving Luyi behind.
Luyi squinted at him then snorted. “But then how could the world move on if it was deprived of my beauty? I'm too handsome to die!” he shouted and kicked his feet lightly against the stirrup to catch up.
—
When Xishi rejoined the banquet, most guests have retired for the night and the music has died down to three instrumentalists taht remained in the corner. The chatter has died down, too, only drunken laughter and giggles rang in the hall. Someone was passed out on the floor with their goblet and their friends were poking at their red flushed face to wake them up.
Fuchai was sprawled on his throne, his face in his palm and looking most obviously drunk. He blinked twice when he saw Xishi, his eyes half-lidded.
He looked like he was going to say something about how long Xishi had gone but instead, he murmured. “Don’t leave me.”
His lips were stained with wine, his eyes deep and dark and adoring. Meekly, he pulled Xishi into the throne with him, hand wrapped over her nape, breathing her in. She could feel his heartbeat beneath her hands, unsteady and afraid.
Guilt clawed its way into her throat as she thought of what was happening outside the palace. Through the canal newly built, the Yue army must have already passed and mobilized, their spears and swords unsheathing, thousands of footfalls and hoofbeats drumming against the earth.
And the moon would shine gently on the rivers and grass, the air would taste of spring and blood will be spilled.
Xishi found her voice. “Fuchai, tell me something nice.”
“I would give up everything for you.”
I know. You already did. Xishi laughed. “I didn't mean that. I meant something about you. What were you like as a child?”
Fuchai rested his head against her neck, hiding his frown as he tried to think of something. Through his dizziness, he remembered Xishi's sorrowful eyes last night. He shouldn't tell her about the gaping loneliness, the arguments with his brother, the static of feeling each day pass by unremarkable and dissociative.
He realized that most of his childhood memories were blurry and there was a few gaps. But this festival was for Xishi, and if she so wished, he would provide.
“I…” he muttered, almost shyly before trailing off. “Some days I used to sneak out of the palace to go to the tree by the lake, my guards would look for me everywhere but I'd be plucking flowers. I used to love making crowns.”
Then he added, “Maybe I should make one for you. It's spring after all.”
That was the nail in the coffin for Xishi, she couldn't decide whether to laugh or tear herself from the pang of sorrow that hit her. She hated that even after everything, she felt guilty for betraying a monster.
I hate him I hate him I hate him I hate him why doesn't it feel like victory. I've got everything I've wanted.
Xishi tries to remind herself of why the Wu deserved to fall. She curled her patriotism in her heart and used it as a shield from the guilt, but traitorously, her mind snapped not to a king, not to a kingdom, not to Fuchai, or Fanli.
But Luyi. His eyes a shade of brown so dark it was almost black but warm, filled with laughter. All the usual fire in them snuff out when he passed her as she left Fanli's guest room.
His voice was in her mind as she slowly said the words that she hated herself for, even saying them, she felt disgusted with herself. Her skin itching in shame as five words left her mouth.
Barely audible for anyone but Fuchai, who was leaning heavily against her, his hands carded in her hair. It felt nice, she could almost fall asleep like this if it wasn't for the spider-like feeling twisting in her bones.
“Fuchai. We need to talk.”