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“...anxia? Dianxia…”
At first Xie Lian thinks he’s hallucinating it. Little whispers at the edge of his hearing, calling him a title that no one would dare associate with the run-down scrap collector he is now, one that he hasn’t heard in nearly a century.
“Dianxia!”
“Ah, the lack of sleep recently must really be getting to me,” Xie Lian remarks out loud to Ruoye, curled around his wrist. “That or you’ve suddenly learned how to talk.”
Ruoye wiggles but doesn’t answer beyond that because it’s a silk band and obviously it hasn’t really learned how to talk.
“Right,” Xie Lian sighs. He kneels down by the river he’s been walking along and reaches out to splash some water on his face to wake himself up…which is when he sees it. Looking up at him from the water is a mask so familiar it hurts: a white, wooden mask with a carved smile.
He’s so startled he nearly falls in. “Wu Ming?”
“It’s me, Dianxia.”
It’s that voice, the one that was calling him before, and Xie Lian wants to kick himself for not recognizing it earlier, even though he knows it’s ridiculous to expect that he would know it after only hearing it for a few days so long ago. Still, he thinks with a sudden pang, his Wu Ming deserves much better than this forgetful god.
A wave of emotion surges over Xie Lian, and it’s all he can do to croak out, “How?”
Wu Ming shakes his head, the motion creating ripples in the water that momentarily distort the image. “I don’t know. I think… I was gone for a while, but I couldn’t rest.”
“I’m sorry,” Xie Lian whispers.
“It’s alright,” Wu Ming says. “I’m here now.”
“You are.” Near tears, Xie Lian reaches a hand out, only to freeze above the surface of the water, scared that if he disturbs it he may cause Wu Ming to disappear again.
“It’s okay, Dianxia.” Wu Ming reaches up. Xie Lian holds his breath, but then that hand breaches the surface, reaching out towards him. “Take my hand,” Wu Ming urges. “Didn’t I say that I’d never Rest in Peace while my beloved still suffers? Join me, and we can finally rest together.”
It’s tempting. It’s so tempting. Xie Lian’s hand is nearly touching Wu Ming’s before he realizes it, but something makes him pause.
“Your beloved?” he asks. “You… found them?”
“Of course. He’s right in front of me, isn’t he?” Wu Ming says. He stretches his hand higher, nearly managing to grab on to Xie Lian, but he pulls back before Wu Ming can make the connection.
“I understand,” Xie Lian says. “You can stop pretending now, I know you’re not Wu Ming.”
“What do you mean?” The thing pretending to be Wu Ming tilts its head. “Of course I am.”
“No. You’re not,” Xie Lian replies calmly. “I’ll admit you fooled me for a moment, but you messed up. I am not Wu Ming’s beloved.” He hardens his heart and stands up, but a cry stops him before he can do anything else.
“Dianxia, wait! Is it really so impossible to believe? Who else did I follow no matter what? Who else did I sacrifice myself to protect? Who else did I fight my way back to find? All I’ve ever wanted was to protect you, so please–”
A part of Xie Lian wavers. Of course it does. How many times has he dreamed about this very thing? About miraculously getting Wu Ming back, even shamefully hearing him say these words. But that’s why…
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not Wu Ming’s beloved. Having someone like Wu Ming love me… I could never be so lucky.”
“Dianxia, please! All I want is to take your suffering from you, for you to finally be at peace. Please, believe me!”
“I don’t.”
And with that, Xie Lian walks away. He knows that whatever is in the water wearing Wu Ming’s face is dangerous, knows that he should probably deal with it before it can hurt someone else, but… the only weapon he has in Fang Xin. The sword that has already taken Wu Ming away from him once. He can’t bring himself to do it.
Not again.
For the next few days, Xie Lian avoids the river as much as possible, only stopping by once a day to refill his water pouch. The fake Wu Ming doesn’t speak to him again, but he catches glimpses out of the corner of his eye of that mask looking up at him. He relishes the sight as much as he resents that it isn’t real.
Of course, after so many mostly uneventful days of travel, Xie Lian’s bad luck kicks in. He catches his foot on a tree root, tumbles down a rocky slope that is more cliff than hill, and suffers a nasty blow to his head.
He doesn’t know much of anything after that, so he’s surprised when he wakes up in an unfamiliar house. A young boy is standing over him, staring down at him curiously.
“You’re awake!” he cries when he sees Xie Lian looking at him, the loud sound aggravating the pounding in his head. “Ma! Ma! He’s awake!”
A woman enters the room then. She sends her son outside and explains to Xie Lian that they’d found him injured in the woods and brought him home to take care of him, though they hadn’t been too optimistic about his chances. Xie Lian thanks her profusely, of course, and offers his services via chores to repay her, though she insists he should simply rest while he continues to heal.
So, for the next few days that’s what he does. Lin Yue, the woman who took him in, is very nice, and he finds that he enjoys speaking with her as he recovers. Her son A-Tong is less so, but still endearing in the way of a young child figuring out the world. It’s just the two of them, and they seem to be all the closer for it.
It’s around two weeks into his stay when a group of townsfolk come banging on Lin Yue’s door.
“Where is he?” the leader demands as soon as she opens it.
“Where is who?”
“That stranger, that cursed man! Ever since you dragged him back here we’ve had nothing but misfortunes, people disappearing left and right! Well we’ve had enough! Give him up!”
Overcome with a surge of guilt, Xie Lian attempts to get up, but Lin Yue pushes him back down.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” she snaps. “Hua Xie is an injured man, he’s not responsible for anything! Obviously I’m worried about those missing people as well, but we can’t take it out on each other! Now, if you’ll excuse me, all this shouting is disturbing A-Tong.”
She slams the door in their face decisively.
“Maybe I should leave,” Xie Lian says. “I’m mostly healed now, and I’ve far overstayed my welcome–”
“Nonsense,” Lin Yue insists. “Superstition and distrust don’t mean anything. You’re not responsible, and that’s that.” So, Xie Lian ignores his instincts and stays another night.
The next morning, A-Tong is missing.
Xie Lian slips out amidst Lin Yue’s panicking. He has a horrible feeling, and follows it all the way down to the river’s edge.
He finds A-Tong there, in the water. His lifeless body is cradled in Wu Ming’s arms, the wooden smile of the mask dripping with blood as the creature pauses its meal to look up at Xie Lian.
“Dianxia, you’re back!”
Xie Lian takes in the sight in front of him numbly. His entire body is trembling, and he soon comes to realize it is with rage. Rage at this creature for daring to defile his Wu Ming like this, and rage at himself for not putting a stop to it when he had the chance.
The townsfolk were right. This is all his fault.
“How could you?” Xie Lian chokes out. His hand goes to Fang Xin’s hilt.
“Hm?” The wood of the mask warps, the smile twisting open to reveal sharp, flesh-rending teeth. “He came to me willingly when he believed I was his father. It was quick. Easy.”
Xie Lian draws his sword. Though his hands are still shaking, he knows it will not affect what he is about to do. What he should have done from the start.
“Why do you still fight, Dianxia?” the creature asks. “Wouldn’t it be easier to join us? He didn’t feel a thing, you know. And now he won’t be sad anymore! Wouldn’t that be nice? No more suffering?”
“Yes,” Xie Lian whispers despite himself. By now he’s certain of what this creature is. A siren. A monster that lives in the water and lures people in by promising their greatest desire, only to watch as they drown themselves attempting to reach it and feasting on the remains.
Everything this imitation of Wu Ming has said to him is something that he desires. To have his ghost back, to be with him again, to be his beloved and to have him make all of the endless misery and suffering stop, to finally rest
If he goes into the water, he will drown and the siren will eat him, and then maybe all of this would stop. But he can’t. He lifts his sword higher, preparing for the final blow.
“Why?!” the siren calls desperately. “I know you want this!”
“He wouldn’t want this for me,” Xie Lian says. “The real one, the one whose face you stole. He gave his life so that I could go on living, and I will never dishonor him by giving up his final gift to me.”
He swings down. The siren doesn’t get another chance to protest.
He carries what remains of A-Tong back to his mother.
“I’m sorry,” he tells her. “I wasn’t in time to save him, but the thing that did this to him is gone.”
She looks at her son, then looks at Xie Lian. Any trace of the warmth and kindness that he saw in her the last few weeks has vanished.
“I think it’s time you leave,” she says.
He is gone before the sun sets. Back to traveling. Back to being alone. Back to trying to live the life his believer gave everything for, helping where he can, failing more often than not, but still going, still dreaming of a day when the suffering might finally end.