Chapter Text
Every time they met…was for a stirring deliberation, a tentative curiosity, a conscious anticipation that inevitably leads him towards her step by step, all by his own choice.
He is late.
The delicate, alluring scent of blooming peach blossoms drifts through the serene calm of the bamboo grove in the aftermath of a passing sun shower, barely perceptible. The white-haired monk who treads alone through the tranquil, verdant forest senses the change in the air regardless, well-honed awareness sharpening on that faint tendril of floral fragrance lingering, almost as if teasingly, around him, distinct enough even beneath the dense, earthy petrichor that blankets the land after the rain.
It is provocative yet elusive, like a small butterfly fluttering just out of reach, gently tickling the heart, frolicking, innocuous.
Mischievous.
His feet stop. The silver rings of his khakkhara sway in the breeze as he quietly rests the base of the heavy staff on the ground. Standing stilly beneath the wide brim of his conical bamboo hat, he does not turn, an imperceptible recognition shifting in his reserved gaze when the blossom pink gauze floats gracefully across the edge of his peripheral vision. His staff jangles as he swiftly moves to strike the long trail of fabric out of the way and send it soaring backwards, channeling enough force and energy through the flimsy medium for the veiled woman coming up behind him to land her feet on and slow her rapid descent.
Her steps are so light touching the ground, they barely stir the shallow carpet of dead bamboo leaves on the forest floor. The breeze she carries along with her as she glides past him to get ahead is tinged with the floral perfume of her person, distracting him enough for the edges of her blossom-pink oil-paper parasol to collide and turn playfully against the Sanskrit-engraved loops and rings of his holy staff, sending droplets of rainwater flying in all directions. She spins so sublimely into his vision, and for a brief second, the silhouette of her face becomes almost visible behind the thin, translucent veil of her white tasseled douli. He can almost see the upturned curve of painted lips through the fluttering white gauze, accompanied by a slender, delicate jawline and dense, dark lashes, framing a seemingly demure, lowered gaze…but what demure lady will encroach upon him, a Buddhist disciple, like this?
It is only their third meeting and he already knows her, his mysterious companion and chessmate, whom he only meets once a year, here.
He does not realize it at that moment, but his expressionless façade has already broken.
The subtlest tilt of the corners of his mouth betrays his stoic, reserved demeanor as he backs away from the effortless, backward sweep of her open parasol, before coming forward again to counter the next powered thrust of her open weapon, meeting the outer canopy of the umbrella right in the middle with his closed fist, neutralizing the channeled surge of her energy with an equal measure of his own, stopping her dead in her tracks. The metallic loop of his khakkhara lock against the bamboo edge of her parasol, and with one swift kick of the base of his staff, the force and rotational momentum of the heavy staff send her parasol spinning. She is forced to take to the air as well, pivoting in tandem with the beautiful motion of the umbrella, like a courtesan’s elegant dance. Her blossom-pink robes flutter like unfurling peach blossom petals, the only splash of vivid color in this verdant bamboo forest, flamboyant and stunning.
She lands on her feet and her hand shoots out quickly, launching a flat, spear hand thrust aimed towards his solar plexus. He could have blocked or parried that straightforward attack with his staff, but he catches that slender appendage with his own just as they are about to land on his person, the whole time not looking at her moves, just watching her intently from behind her veil, as if their eyes could meet. He pushes her hand away and releases her, only for her to swiftly lean backwards on one leg and bring the other limb up in a swift kick to catch him off guard. He effortlessly captures her foot, encased within a delicately embroidered shoe, only for her to slip free in the next second, twirling across the damp forest floor to prepare to counter his move…because in this dance, it is his turn to lead next.
His weapon rings in warning with his spiritual powers. He raises it with a spin and launches it full force straight at her…only to regret it in the next moment. His expression changes, quick, long strides follow in the wake of the khakkhara that has shot straight towards her in its unerring trajectory, his hand closing firmly around the base of the heavy shaft and holding it back before his weapon can reach her with maximum impact. She is already moving in tandem to counter that incoming, horizontal thrust, using her parasol to diffuse the rest of the blow and jumping upwards, avoiding the clout of his powers straight on.
Her silk-encased foot lands ever so lightly on the distal loop of his holy staff, and then, the other treads on the silver, carved shaft, perfectly balanced. Beneath her weight, the rings of his khakkhara chime lightly, but he holds the heavy rod steadily in place with only one arm outstretched and the other hand behind his back. Incredibly, the weapon remains unwavering in its position, supporting her so effortlessly.
The woman holds her parasol over her head under the drizzling rain and peers down at him, every inch a noble lady. Her voice is a gentle lilt, her quiet mirth evident in that soothing, amicable graciousness, completely lacking in anger or resentment.
“A small punishment for your late arrival…my dear friend.”
Three years ago, they first met, bonded over a common interest in weiqi. Ever since then, they would meet here once a year, at this time when the one lone peach tree standing by a small pond in the middle of this tranquil bamboo forest will come abloom with pink and white petals, filling the entire pavilion with the spring fragrance of flowers. The black and white stones of the board game are replaced by the pink and white petals from the peach blossoms flowering so beautifully just outside the pavilion, and for a short two hours every year, they will come together to this small, secret place that only they both know the location of, sit down opposite each other across this stone weiqi table that has witnessed the growth of their peculiar friendship, and play chess.
This time is no different, even when she can tell that he is distracted and weighed down by inner woes. He takes longer than usual to place his ‘chess pieces,’ the white petals that he chooses to represent himself landing slowly on the eighteen-by-eighteen grid cast upon the table surface as he ponders the game…and also everything else.
Hao you, hao you, she addresses him again and again, with a warm sincerity and a comforting candor that draws him, even if he had never seen her face and what she really looks like even once, even if he does not even know her full name.
My friend. My dear friend.
Unknowingly, in this place tucked secretly away from the rest of the world, his guard lowers for her to a level that nobody else had succeeded before. The seclusive, phlegmatic comportment that is atypical of a practicing ascetic monk, disciplined, rigid in practice, and completely detached from all the troubles and chaos of the mortal coils, recedes before her.
He smiles softly at her, slight as it is. The look in his eyes changes when they land on her, becomes gentler. Even his entire demeanor, upright and righteous, seems to relax ever so slightly for her.
All because she calls him her friend.
She does not pry overtly into the matters that trouble him, and comments that she still does not understand him, despite the duration of their unusual association. The distraction she offers is peaceful and contemplative, neither forced upon him jarringly, nor insensitive with callous curiosity. It offers him an insight into her, one that hints of a sharp intelligence encased within the softest silk, as well as her seemingly effortless ability to discern the things that he does not openly say.
She gives him the choice to discreetly deflect if he does not wish to speak further, and that makes all the difference. He finds himself increasingly drawn towards confiding in her. He speaks more to her than his normally taciturn nature will allow with others, because his encounters with her have always been comforting, like meeting with an old friend, guileless and earnest. Their interactions soothe and pacify him in ways that he does not quite fully understand himself, so rare and precious in his usually silent, solitary world; how wonderful it is to encounter a confidante to open up to, mindful and compassionate such as she is, who also desires to perceive and know him?
Out of respect for him, even if he suspects that she has astutely gleaned more of his nature and his hidden past than he had ever shared with her, she had only always been an encouraging presence, a solace.
Her charming gentleness and piquant touch of playfulness around him is a combination that he is unable to resist. He does not know how. Like that fluttering butterfly, she comes close…but never enough for him to fully grasp. His intent gaze never leaves her veiled features, watching her serious attention on the board, as he concedes the game to her in the end. She accepts his graciousness with a mix of exasperation and an almost catlike amusement.
“Every time we play, you always protect the flowers so,” she remarks so quietly in the aftermath, gazing out upon the beautiful peach blossoms in full splendor by the small pond, each and every one of the petals that they had borrowed for their play of chess returned to its parent tree without a single flaw, intact and undamaged. There is a wistfulness in her voice that she does not even realize, and a subtle warning that sobers him.
I just hope, the one you never meant to harm, won’t die because of you.
Yi Tao San Se, Xifang Tao, is her real name.
Her affiliation is to Fengliu dian, her rank the palace master of the West Palace.
The revelation sends him reeling inside, but there is no room for denial, and he also does not allow himself to indulge in that kind of fallacy. All the pieces fit in place. She had approached him deliberately under guise, charmed and captivated his attention in order to get close to him, to fulfil hidden agendas for her faction. He realizes now that it was never about the chess, or the friendship.
He wonders if she was amused by his gullibility, whenever she calls him hao you in her affectionate lilt, the whole time knowing what he does not, that it is only an act, a farce.
He is irrationally agitated by this understanding, and then even more upset by this deliberate deception than he ought to. At that moment, the austere, monastic discipline that he had adhered to rigorously failed him.
All along, she had known that they stood on different sides, belonging to opposing groups. What he had believed was a genuine, innocuous friendship must merely be a routine, flawless performance from her, versed and well-trained in the arts of wiles as an established member of the House of Fengliu.
Even though he had never shared any pertinent information with her across the three years of their acquaintanceship, even though all he knows of her is scant across the short hours of their limited chess sessions, he finds himself driven by the inexplicable urge to seek her and demand answers.
The veiled woman in the robes of pinks and whites, who is she, really?
When he finally meets her again for the very first time, it is not too long afterwards. Near the outposts of Fengliu territory, she waits for him to come to her at a lone pavilion in the middle of the forest, inviting him to a game of weiqi that he will never forget for the rest of his life.
The dense fog obscures his view at first, soon dispersed by a forceful burst of energy from his holy staff. The entire clearing appears before him in an instant, and there she is.
A vision in pink, she has finally removed her veil that had hidden her truth from him for the past three years, and revealed herself fully before him. She turns around with a smile on flawless, exquisite features more stunning than he had ever imagined, and still calling him ‘dear friend’ in that mellifluous, dulcet lilt of hers.
This time, he does not smile back at her in return. A burst of irate fire flares to life in his chest at the mockery she has made out of his sincerity, despite his attempts to suppress the irrational disquiet stirring within him, thanks to her provocations. He is able to keep the lash of anger from appearing across his stoic mien, and his voice is controlled and neutral as he questions her identity…but his rigid reaction is already indicative enough of the true state of his feelings, is it not?
I am Yi Tao San Se. I am also Tao guniang.
Isn’t it said that all that has form is false? Xian Sheng, you’ve studied the Buddhist scriptures deeply, so why cling to forms?
…Why…cling to forms, indeed? Why cling to this, …to her? It should not matter. She, an enemy, should not matter. He should have proceeded to deal with her with full prejudice, eliminating this significant threat from Fengliu dian as swiftly as possible.
But he had hesitated.
And agreed to play her game, abide by her rules.
The entire clearing transforms into a gigantic gameboard, imbued with both of their energies. The round of weiqi proceeds with stakes higher than he could have ever anticipated, bearing severe consequences that soon reveal why exactly she had been playing chess with him all these years.
They trade swift, relentless attacks in the forms of opposing pieces, the thirteen cinnabar beads on her wrist for his thirteen silver prayer beads. The latter had never left his side since he chose to leave the secular world, each and every one of the holy artifacts blessed and carved with special engravings, saturated with his power. The beads are slammed onto the grid by their respective owners with enough impact to send loose clods of dirt flying everywhere. He catches one of her incoming pieces that had come too close, grasping the vermillion bead and firing it back towards her. She uses her powers to intercept and shoot the bead back down onto the playing ‘board.’ He presses his attack, this time projecting one of his prayer beads at her…and promptly falls for the trap that had silently opened beneath his feet, unbeknownst to him.
She captures the silver bead firmly between her slender fingers, a triumphant smile growing in her charming peach blossom eyes. He stills, watching her warily.
All this time, I’ve been wondering whether I should consider you a chess companion, or an opponent.
He soon learns her motive for deliberately seeking him out, all those years ago. She had been carefully memorizing all the moves that he had ever made on the chessboard, studying his habits…learning him. With that knowledge in hand, she had sharply come to a dangerous conclusion that leaves him momentarily paralyzed with dismay and disbelief. Why, in all the years playing chess with him, were there certain positions on the board where he would never place his pieces on, counter to chess logic and theory. Who would have gone this far to accurately discover the hidden truth?
I guess, those positions must be the formation cores that trigger the Stars Scattered Across the Sky!
Testing her deduction before his amazed and shocked gaze, she calls upon one of his strongest move sets and activates the formation in one fell swoop, proving her conjecture successfully and so surreptitiously learning his technique in three years, all on her own.
Light Technique: Stars Scattered Across the Sky!
The formidable formation flares up and hums to life just as she slams that last prayer bead into place on the massive seal array on the ground, cleverly disguised under the gigantic chessboard that she had drawn over the clearing. A strong wave of energy ripples across the entire stretch of forest encapsulated within the massive seal array, like a shimmering golden net, and there is something both alarmingly appalling and impressive at the same time, watching her call upon and use his technique so effortlessly. He does not know how to describe the raw surge of emotions roiling within him at the moment.
He knows that he had been careless, even without her saying it. He had let his guard down, for each and every step that had led him here today had all been guided by her hand. As such, his loss is inevitable, and this is her win.
A full demonstration of her ability, the Fengliu dian’s West Palace master, Xifang Tao.
The glowing beacon of the seal formation acts like a signal calling upon his allies to rush to his aid, even if he was not the one to activate the technique. But the elite members of the Central Plains Sword Alliance have no way of knowing that. Even when he had cautioned the others against rash action earlier, they still fell to the deception, placed in a truly dangerous predicament thanks to his one mistake. They will die because of him, just as she had predicted.
Without hesitation, he makes the decision to save them at his own expense.
You’re still as compassionate as ever.
She does not appear surprised by his action, her tone half taunt, half teasing. The powerful prayer beads that had activated the seal formation are also enough to act as guides to send the members of the Sword Alliance out of danger’s way, back to safety beyond the infamous poison mists of Fengliu dian. The beads also serve as his personal talisman, and now, without their protection, he is even more vulnerable than ever.
He is an enemy, an opponent, and she had already exhausted her use of him. Her mission is complete. There is no need to keep him around further, prolonging this game unnecessarily. In theory, she could kill him within his own formation there and then, or if not, at the very least severely injure and incapacitate him…
But she did not do so.
He had never been able to see clearly through her.
He pursues her to a cliff’s edge, intent on ensuring that she does not circle back to launch another ambush and harm his companions. They had gone far beyond the formation parameters by then, but not once had she activated the offensive attacks of the seal and turned them upon him when they were still within the array.
She very well could do so, if she truly wanted to shake him off her tail.
He fails to understand her, more and more.
Rather than chasing her to this dead end, it would be more accurate to say that she was the one who had deliberately led him here.
She stands there on the precipice and gazes so calmly at him, even as he tells her to stand down, to surrender when it is only inevitable that her Fengliu dian will fall. There is no need for further bloodshed, and he does not want to harm her.
They are both aware that she cannot win against him, in a straight fight like this.
Yet, there is no surrender. She still chooses to engage, even while already knowing how this will end.
For her, there was never any other choice.
There is no explanation, or long tirade for her actions. With a faint smile still on her face that belies the steely resolve in her vivid eyes, she calls upon one of her attacks and launches it at him, her Ten Thousand Miles of Peach Blossoms.
He is forced into battle. His Lion’s Roar resounds across the barren plains around them, the array lighting up and meeting her frenetic storm of peach blossom petals head-on. His attack devours hers without mercy, his powerful energy gathering around him like a cresting tidal wave, ready to retaliate.
She pulls out everything that she has within her, every last drop. There is not much left after summoning that exhaustively massive formation from earlier. Still, she hurls herself towards him without hesitation, palm outthrust for one last match with him.
He meets her halfway with equal conviction.
Fierce shockwaves ripple across the entire clearing as immovable object meets unstoppable force. Their energies clash fiercely, each trying to dominate the other.
His stern expression does not change. His eyes do not leave her. Don’t force my hand, that look seems to say.
Her smile is so dazzling and carefree...which is why, when he least expected it, she stopped fighting.
Not only will I create bloodshed, but I’ll also make you create bloodshed.
Her powers...disappear.
There is no time for him to react, or to pull back. The concussive impact of his overwhelming energy rips through her with the ferocious violence of a howling monolith. The force is so immense, she ruptures from within. She is flung backwards from the severe backlash, soaring right over the sheer cliff.
Time slows down. The image of her face at that moment is seared into his mind.
Flecks of her blood spray across his face. They are still warm, like a drizzle on a sunny day.
He flinches.
Reality rushes back to the forefront. She is disappearing right before his eyes, and he realizes her truth.
She had intended to die by him.
He cannot, absolutely will not, permit it.
Within that snap second, Puzhu had already chosen.
He lunges after her, and follows her right over the edge.