Chapter Text
Tang Tianhao carefully made sure to keep the wooden food box in his hands upright as he made his way to the foyer. He knew the food would most likely be left untouched, but the porridge was still warm to the touch and gentle on the stomach, the cook having prepared it exactly as he remembered Huo Tianxing would make when little Linglong would get sick.
Peeking his head out the open doorway, he finally caught sight of her, white-robed and thin, too thin, as though a mere gust of the wind could blow her away.
Except it never did.
Huo Linglong sat with her back and shoulders straight, the tinkling of now-familiar wind chimes filling the silence as a breeze flew gently past.
She did not say a word when he set the box down on the table between them, eyes unfocused as she stared right ahead as though an invisible puppet play had captured all of her attention, the same play they would sneak into the city to watch on days he came over to visit Linglong Manor. Just two children who could pretend they didn’t belong to any Sects for one night, with no responsibility on their shoulders looming over their heads like a saber exerting judgement.
“You should eat something,” he said in lieu of a greeting.
“Hn,” she would answer in return, every time.
Tang Tianhao watched her from the corner of his eyes and thought: It’s good that she’s actually saying something now.
He can still clearly recall the day he had to break the news to her, blood washed clean from his hands yet he could still feel them in the crusts of his nails, clinging to him no matter how many times he tried to scrub them away.
He remembered the light slowly leaving her eyes the longer the silence stretched, her body pulled impossibly taut as though a single fleeting touch would shatter her entirely.
“…No.”
Her voice impossibly small, eyes desperately looking at him as though begging him to tell her she had heard wrong. He wished he could tell her that.
Instead, all he could say was:
“…I’m so sorry.”
He didn’t try to move away when Linglong shoved past him to run inside the room, nor did he dare to take a peek inside.
All he remembered that day was the low, painful wail echoing throughout the palace, haunting him to this day whenever he closed his eyes.
~0~
Losing people in the jianghu was not a foreign concept to him. After all, he had watched his uncle’s eyes grow lifeless in front of his very eyes, his blood coating his hands as he tried helplessly to staunch the piercing wound on his chest. Neither was he unfamiliar with the burning hatred of vengeance, Shao Jizu’s smirk burned into his mind as he stabbed and stabbed the dummy on the training ground, resolved to never let himself be that helpless ever again.
Yet watching his close friend wither away, her existence merely a shell of her former self…it was torture beyond anything he could ever imagine.
By day, she would shut herself in her office, claiming to be dealing with sect matters left by her father and brother now far away in the far north, serving out a sentence much lighter than they would have gotten had Zhan Zhao’s letter not arrived in time.
He remembered how Linglong quietly prostrated herself before the Emperor despite Xiao Zhao’s panicked look and insistence that she didn’t have to, her eyes reflecting a gnawing emptiness so deep as she continued to bow on the floor until the Emperor calmly asked her to rise to her feet.
By night, with her obligations no longer requiring her attention, she would often find herself on the rooftops, three jars of wine by her side as she drank herself to blissful oblivion.
It was during one of these nights that he would find her, heart clenching painfully as he ushered her back inside, tucking her beneath freshly-warmed blankets as she stayed blissfully asleep.
It was also during one of these nights that her voice suddenly broke through the silence, soft and lilting:
“You know…Bai-dage always made it look so easy, but I could never get so drunk that I lose consciousness. I’ve always envied him for that.”
She then huffed out a quiet laugh. “You already know how well I can hold my alcohol, right? Neither you nor Xiao Zhao could ever beat me to it.”
He kept his back to her, his hand on the doorway clenching tight.
“…Good night, Linglong.”
He didn’t stay a second longer to know if she replied or not.
~0~
Lately, Xiao Zhao would occasionally visit him now that things were well and truly taken care of at the palace. He knew that Linglong sent him letters asking about the progress of the case, but Xiao Zhao would always shake his head if he asked him if she told him anything.
“Other than asking about my well-being, she never asks about anything else,” the prince frowned. “I’m worried about her. She somehow always manages to deflect my questions asking after her with such ease…I don’t remember her being this wily before.”
Tang Tianhao let a small smile slip onto his lips as he took a sip of his tea.
“That might’ve been Zhan-xiong’s influence. He’s particularly good at that.”
The two of them fell into silence at the mention of the man, the mood quickly turning somber at the reminder of their mutual loss.
“I’ve actually never been particularly close to him, despite the deep bond between our servants,” Xiao Zhao mused with a touch of regret. “But I know my Imperial Brother cherishes him greatly, as well as Zhu Zhi and Ming Zhu, and that’s more than enough for me.”
He then let out a soft sigh.
“I wasn’t particularly surprised that Linglong would grow so attached to him either, and vice versa. If there’s anywhere she would feel the most free…”
Tang Tianhao nodded, his throat suddenly so very tight.
In an ideal world, Linglong would be a free woman of the jianghu, righting wrongs and punishing evildoers with her sword. She would not be tied to the fate of Linglong Manor or Sect squabbles, roaming the jianghu alongside her two companions as a famed heroine…
“Xiao Tang,” Xiao Zhao called out to him all of a sudden, decorum put aside at this very moment as he leaned closer, grasping his shoulder. “I’m sure no one’s told you this, but…I’m so sorry for your loss. I know you were close with them too.”
His breath hitched. He started to shake his head when Xiao Zhao cut in:
“You’ve always struggled with making friends growing up. Don’t make that face, I was there too. Why do you think the only people you still contact regularly all these years are me and Linglong?”
Tang Tianhao bit his lip, looking away in both annoyance and embarrassment.
“But then…” a small smile blossomed on Xiao Zhao’s face, “you actually made friends with those two as well, and I could see how much you cherished them and they you.”
Something seemed to have snuck into his eyes and Tang Tianhao rubbed them to no avail, wiping the drops of wetness escaping them before they could fall down his cheeks.
Xiao Zhao sighed again, the hand on his shoulder moving to rub soothing circles on his arms.
“It’s alright, it’s just us here. You never made fun of me for crying when we were kids, why would I start now?”
Tang Tianhao had put aside all the grief and exhaustion building up inside of him these past few months, tucking them into a tiny box in the corner of his mind because he couldn’t afford to. Not when Linglong still needed him, not when his Sect still struggled to stay afloat amidst the loss of their previous leader. And most importantly…he didn’t have the right to. He who had only known them for a few months, who had only met them a handful of times...what right did he have to feel this deep, gaping sorrow at their sudden departure? How could he feel like he lost all three of them when Linglong was right there?
But just for this moment, with his old friend by his side, maybe…maybe it was okay. Just for a little bit.
~0~
The wind blew crisp, cold air against him, and Tang Tianhao pulled the thick wool mantle tighter around himself, willing his teeth to stop clattering against his jaw.
The weather around this time of the year had been particularly cruel, the cold seeping into one‘s bones, chilling them to the core despite the many layers he’d put on.
Thankfully the lake had not frozen solid just yet, fishermen still out and about to make the most out of the coming snowstorm before it became near impossible to fish, boatmen offering their services to locals wanting to visit the neighboring islands before the worst of winter arrived.
Their boatman was already familiar enough by now to know not to strike a conversation with the lady staring quietly out into the wide expanse of the lake. Instead, he would direct his chatter towards Tang Tianhao before asking about any new gossip he might have heard from the capital.
“Nothing new this year, I’m afraid,” he smiled politely at the old man. He used to hate that the man would talk non-stop, urging him into a conversation he didn’t even want. But as the years went by, he had learned to value the simple, mindless exchange filling the frigid void of silence whenever they visited Xiankong Island on his particular day.
“Ahh, that’s a shame,” the man shook his head ruefully. “My granddaughter has been begging my son to take her to the big city this past week with all the new toys that arrived from the capital, so he’s had to ply her with stories to keep her sitting still.”
Tang Tianhao laughed softly. “That sounds like a handful.”
“It really is! Do you two have any kids of your own?”
“Ah,” he felt his ears warm, but he simply shook his head. “We’re not together. We’re…visiting family.”
The boatman seemed to have been caught off guard, and Tang Tianhao knew that whatever gossip the village had about them was only going to grow even more like wildflowers in a meadow come spring. But to this day, Linglong never showed any sign that their assumptions bothered her, and he honestly couldn’t bring himself to care either.
They were both people of the jianghu who had lost so much. Some things…are truly not worth worrying about.
Once they finally reached the shore, Jiang Ping was already waiting for them with two handwarmers at hand, the brothers still insisting on escorting them despite Linglong reassuring them that they could find their way around the island themselves.
“Come, it’s the least we can do,” Lu Fang had simply shook his head one day, gently patting Linglong’s cold hands like a doting father. “Besides, Wu-di would roll in his grave if we don’t give you a warm welcome.”
And just like that, Linglong stopped fussing over their hovering presence, her smile gentle as she nodded at Bai Yutang’s fourth brother.
“Jiang-dage,” she greeted with a small bow, Yin Yan Blade at her grasp as always.
“Huo-xiaomei,” he grinned, pulling her in for a hug. He pulled away just as Tang Tianhao bowed himself, clasping his arms warmly. “Tang-xiong,” he nodded to him with a smile.
“Come on. This year’s winter is so much more biting for some reason,” he made a show of shivering, causing them both to share an amused glance. “My sister-in-law already had the kitchen prepare some warm soup for you two. Let’s go!”
The three of them made their way to the Lu Manor in record time, the snow so thick it would have been impossible to see in front of them had they arrived any later. Inside, almost all the candles in the manor had been lit, a warm glow blanketing the huge dining room as piles and piles of food sat waiting for them, its mouth-watering, delectable smell prompting a small grumble from his stomach.
He looked at them sheepishly as they all laughed, the warmth of the room completely burying the coldness of the world outside.
The next morning, he wasn’t surprised to find that Linglong had already gone to their graves. Instead of rushing to her side like he did the first few years, he waited outside by the veranda for his tea to finish steeping, looking up at the tiny snowflakes falling onto his hand now that the storm from last night had quietened. He watched the tiny crystals melt on his fingers, suddenly overcome with nostalgia.
That day…it had also been snowing heavily.
Huo Linglong, grief freshly tattooed on her chest, red, aching and raw, had ignored his cries and barged right into Kaifeng Fu with her sword by her side after her audience with the Emperor.
Tang Tianhao cursed his horse for being a step too slow, watching in horror as the guards in the prefecture all pointed their sword at her. Yet the women stood unmoved, her head raised high.
“I wish to speak with Bao-daren.”
He was about to step in when someone cried out:
“Huo-jiejie?! You people- stand down, this instant!”
Zhu Zhi’er rushed down the stairs, stumbling and almost falling had he not caught a wooden beam on time.
“Huo-jiejie, what are you doing here?!”
“Zhu Zhi’er…?” murmured Linglong. “Why…why are you here? Why aren’t you with—”
“Prince Hui is busy at the palace and instructed me to help Bao-daren…” he bit his lip. “But now…I think I know the real reason he sent me here ahead.”
He coughed before steeling himself, his entire demeanor changing as he turned to face the guards.
“This is Huo Linglong of Linglong Manor. She requires an audience with Chief Justice Bao this very instant—let her through!”
“B-but…his lordship said-”
“Let her through.”
They all snapped their heads towards the new, familiar voice. It was Chief Bao himself. He looked down at all of them from the top of the stairs, his deep gaze stopping on Linglong for a second longer before he turned back.
“Do come in,” he said simply before walking away, hands clasped behind him. “You too, young man.”
Tang Tianhao had half a mind to push his way in, but he couldn’t deny the relief in his chest when he was formally invited.
Inside, two additional tables had been prepared before the Bao-daren’s own seat, with two guards flanking this chief justice on both sides.
He immediately recognized them, mostly from stories he had heard. The four loyal constables of Chief Bao Zheng. He knew of their names, but to his chagrin wasn't familiar enough to put a name to each of their faces.
They waited until Bao-daren had sat down and gestured for them to sit as well before doing so, another man suddenly entering from a backdoor carrying a steaming pot of tea and slowly pouring them both a cup each.
If he were to guess, that man was most likely Gongsun Ce, the fearsome Secretary who was always seen next to Bao-daren. The man went to stand by his side just as he expected, and he couldn’t help but notice that he had taken the pot of tea away with him.
Bao-daren most likely deduced that they wouldn’t be staying here long, and from the way Linglong gazed quietly at the cup of tea before her, she probably came to the same conclusion as well.
“Miss Huo,” Bao-daren said calmly. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“I’m sure Bao-daren has already figured it out, but I will make myself clear either way.” Her voice steeled. “I came here to speak with you on the topic of Zhan Zhao’s funeral procession.”
“Oh? Does Miss Huo have an issue with the formal processions for civil servants?”
“Naturally not,” she closed her eyes before opening them again, her gaze sharp. “I wish to ask if your grace has already picked a suitable place for his burial.”
Tang Tianhao watched with bated breath as the four constables seemed to finally break character, one of them narrowing his eyes at Linglong.
“He was a member of Kaifeng Fu,” Bao-daren’s deep voice rumbled. “Naturally, he has a place here alongside his brethren. To place him elsewhere would be to tarnish his reputation and the Emperor’s trust.”
He watched as Linglong clutched the teacup in her hands before slowly letting go.
“Respectfully, your honor,” she spoke softly. “I disagree.”
“Oh?”
“Zhan Zhao may have spent many years working for the government, but you seem to forget that he is also a man of the jianghu. He had wandered the country with nothing but the sword on his back and no one by his side for years, yet he stayed here because he believed in the justice you uphold. I have zero intention of downplaying your deep bonds with Zhan Zhao, but does the connection he had forged outside of the government not count as well? Do the bonds he formed with people he met in the jianghu matter less than his role in the royal court? Are relationships to be purely measured by the time spent instead of its depth?”
Huo Linglong shone so bright in his eyes at that moment, her voice never rising yet ringing as clear as a bell, echoing throughout the hall where so many had met their doom and their salvation.
The four constables seemed to have been doubly moved by her words, one of them walking forwards to face Chief Bao, his hands clasped.
“Bao-daren,” he said, bowing low. “I beseech you to reconsider this as well. We have all known Zhan Zhao for years, and he has never truly been a part of the government unlike us. We have pledged our loyalty to you, my lord. But Zhan Zhao…”
“His loyalty lies with the justice you serve.” Another one piped in, stepping forward to bow towards Chief Bao as well. “This young heroine speaks nothing but the truth. I think it’s worth reconsidering.”
“He has never cared for his reputation either way,” someone else added with a rueful smirk. “This young lady certainly knows that. I vote that we choose a different spot too. Somewhere Zhan-xiong would most definitely want to rest, right, Ma Han?”
The three of them looked at the last of their brethren, his face scrunching up in an obvious conundrum.
“I- Miss Huo, I am willing to hear you out but…” he visibly swallowed his throat. “Where exactly do you have in mind?”
All of them in the room waited with baited breath as she opened her mouth:
“Xiankong Island.”
Stunned silence.
“…What?”
If he were completely honest, Tang Tianhao had no idea where Linglong had wanted to bury Zhan Zhao. But the moment she said “Xiankong Island”, everything clicked in place. Of course that’s the best place to put him to rest. It was only natural.
The others seem to fail to grasp its significance save for Gongsun Ce and Chief Bao himself, whose eyes had lost its sharp edges as he continued to quietly watch everything play out in front of him.
“The home turf where the Five Rats live? But…”
“Wait! Isn’t that where that rascal Bai Yutang—”
A pin drop would have rung as clear as a bell in the sudden silence that ensued, comprehension slowly blooming in everyone’s faces. He glanced worriedly at Linglong, noting how her fists were clenched so tight he feared they would start bleeding.
Her voice was strangely calm as she simply said, “Yes.”
She made her way to the center of the room, cusping her hands and bowing low in front of all of them.
“I truly have no wish to overstep my boundaries, but I will do so because Zhan Zhao, Bai Yutang and I have gone through life and death together. I failed to keep them safe in their last moments, so my only wish now…is to reunite them in death as well.”
She raised her eyes, her eyes red as she kept the tears at bay through sheer will alone, voice slightly trembling yet never losing its candor.
“This Huo Linglong asks for your understanding and your blessings as the closest thing to Zhan Zhao’s family.”
At long last, Chief Bao rose from his seat, heaving a deep, long sigh as he did.
He walked gracefully until he reached Linglong before grasping her elbow, gently pulling her up.
“Master Huo,” he said kindly, “I believe I speak for all of us when I say we approve of your humble request. As the stories say, Zhan Zhao is beloved by all, but not many would barge into my prefecture just to make sure his soul rests peacefully surrounded by the people he loves.”
He turned to look at his constables, some of them wiping their eyes while the others already stood at attention.
“Are there any objections?”
“No, sir!” They answered unanimously.
Chief Bao Zheng nodded, satisfied.
“Gongsun-xiansheng, please bring Master Huo and her companion to see Zhan Zhao. See to it that the preparations for his transfer have been completed.”
“Yes, sir.” The silent secretary politely gestured towards Linglong and him. “This way.”
Tang Tianhao bowed at the rest while Linglong thanked them before following the secretary, his mind whirling at the implication of his words. So he was already planning to agree to it even before this? Was it all then just a ploy to convince his constables? Or to test Linglong?
…Truly, the mind of the great Chief Justice Bao Zheng is unfathomable to the common folk.
He had expected them to keep Zhan Zhao somewhere dark and cool to preserve his corpse better, but to his surprise, his body was kept on a bed in a simple well-lit room, safely out of the way of direct sunlight, but not exactly a place he had expected them to put him.
Gongsun Ce stayed behind as they entered. “I will be back in an hour or so,” he simply said before sliding the door shut.
He turned to Linglong and froze. His friend was now trembling where she stood, hands unsure whether to turn into a fist or reach out, her lips wobbling as she continued to stare at Zhan Zhao’s direction.
He was already planning to leave when she suddenly struck out to grab his arm, squeezing tight.
No words were exchanged, but he understood. He stayed.
Linglong slowly made her way over to Zhan Zhao’s silent form, her hand hesitantly reaching out to his hand.
Tang Tianhao felt his chest ache something terrible. From where he stood, it looked like Zhan Zhao was simply asleep, his eyes peacefully closed, with his blue robe adorning his body. Even his hair was in his usual ponytail, someone no doubt having cleaned him up and combed through his hair carefully before putting on make up to cover the pale pallor of his skin.
He felt sick to his stomach.
“Zhan-dage,” called out Linglong, her voice so soft he would never have heard it had he gone any further. She choked, “I’m back.”
She flinched when she finally touched his cold hand, yet she persevered, grasping it tightly in hers as she slowly slid down to the floor, her eyes finally at the same level as him.
He watched as she just continued to look at him, as though wanting to take Zhan Zhao in for the last time, and he swallowed before he could make his own sorrow known, blinking rapidly to stop his eyes from turning everything into a blur.
He didn’t see Linglong tracing her fingers gently over the crown of Zhan Zhao’s head, her fingers oh so carefully caressing the top of his head the way the man did when she just found out about the truth of her aunt’s death. He didn’t see the way her face crumpled, or how she buried her face in his chest, her muffled sobs echoing throughout the small, quiet room.
“Why…why did you have to tell me it wasn’t my fault?” cried out Linglong quietly. “Why did you have to be so noble till the very end? Why…why are you so…so…”
It took all of Tang Tianhao’s will to not break down right then and there, his own tears dripping down his face in fat blobs. He bit down hard on his lips to make sure he didn’t make a single sound, his body shaking uncontrollably in exchange.
When Gongsun Ce finally returned, he had already opened the door for him, Linglong having pulled herself together enough to nod at him, her eyes puffy and red. Yet the older man made no comment, simply telling them:
“The preparations have been completed. Zhan Zhao will be transferred to a specially made coffin to preserve his body longer for the trip. I hope you both have no objections to that?”
Linglong shook her head, eyes downcast.
“No, thank you,” she murmured. “I’ll be personally escorting him back to Xiankong Island. But before you go, there is something I want to clarify.”
“Of course.”
“Bai Yutang’s coffin has already been transferred, correct?”
“That’s right. His sworn brothers picked him up and brought him home with them a few days ago.”
A tension he wasn’t even aware of lifted out of her shoulders at his words. She bowed.
“Thank you, Gongsun-xiansheng. Please extend my gratitude to Bao-daren as well for the letters, as I won’t be taking any more of his valuable time.”
“As a close companion and trusted confidante of Zhan-daren, you will always be welcome here, Miss Huo.”
Huo Linglong did not give him an answer, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.
Bao-daren,
In the event that I die, please send this letter to Huo Linglong of Linglong Manor.
In the event that I live, please burn this letter. Leave nothing behind.
Linglong,
It’s not your fault. It was never your fault.
I know that you will blame yourself for this, and I know that my words will not aleviate the agony in your heart, but I hope this letter will help remind you no matter how many times you need it.
If you find Bai Yutang blaming himself too, remind him what I told him the day before. It is my choice, and always has been. Neither of you are at fault.
I know you will be a great leader of the Linglong Manor, but regardless of your choice in the future, your Zhan-dage will look at you with nothing but pride and the love in my chest from beyond the grave. It has been a privilege to know and care for you and receive both of your affections, and I hope in the next life the three of us will meet again under a lovelier sun.
— Zhan Zhao
Tang Tianhao recalled the day they held the funeral like it was yesterday.
Ding Yuehua had arrived the earliest, eyes red-rimmed as she slowly bowed before the open caskets.
He remembered how she had pulled Linglong aside once the procession had ended, her eyes wide in shock and disbelief as Linglong slowly came out of her daze, eyes lighting up in recognition.
“Yuehua-jie…”
Her lips trembled, and the two of them had clung onto each other so tight as though they were a mast at sea, bracing themselves against the storm.
The night before, Linglong had waited until the entire family had retired for bed before finally approaching Bai Yutang’s coffin, doing her best to open it as quietly as possible with a push of her inner energy.
The only reason he knew this was because he too couldn’t sleep, the nerves from their long trip to reach Xiankong Island had not yet settled, his feet carrying him far from the room they prepared for him. Somehow, he ended up inside this place.
He saw Linglong come in but the woman either did not see him or did not care that he was there, pulling up a chair beside Bai Yutang’s casket before leaning her elbows against it. For a while, she simply sat there, looking down at who he knew was Bai Yutang’s peaceful figure.
Tang Tianhao, unwilling to disturb her and also not really wanting to leave, had simply crammed himself into a safe, dark corner, watching as Linglong rested her chin against the edge of the casket, her slender arm reaching in.
He looked away then, but Linglong’s soft voice carried over in the near stifling air.
“Bai-dage,” she murmured, “I’m sorry that I read the letter Zhan-dage left you. I doubt you’d mind that much, but I still felt bad about reading it.
“I wish…I wish you left something for me like Zhan-dage did,” her voice cracked as she suddenly laughed, choking on her own unshed tears. “But no…that’s not like you. You’re so adamant on being known as a person of the jianghu, leaving your mark with your actions alone…of course you wouldn’t.
“…But I still hate that you didn’t. So I’m going to steal all your hair ribbons as compensation.” She broke into another soft laughter, her free hand wiping her eyes as she made herself comfortable once more.
He thought that would be the end of it, but Linglong suddenly spoke again, her voice even more hushed than it was before.
“I managed to convince your Dage to dress you in something more colorful, just the way you would’ve wanted.” He could clearly hear the smile in her voice as she continued, “You used to wear so much white…but after traveling with us, it seems you’ve opened your eyes to the beauty of colors too, hm? I helped pick out your outfit, so I hope you won’t be too fussy in the afterlife.
“Don’t bother Zhan-dage too much, alright? I won’t be there to…to…” she trailed off, sighing. Silence.
“…I wish I had met the two of you sooner.”
She then went completely quiet, and as Tang Tianhao carefully approached her some time later, he saw that she had been holding Bai Yutang’s hand tightly this whole time, her head pillowed under her arm as she slept.
He felt a lump in the back of his throat watching how peaceful she looked—it was the most peaceful he had seen her this past month alone. He truly didn’t have the heart to wake her, but he knew that if she somehow slept through the night, she would be somewhat ashamed when the others found her like this.
And so with a gentle shake, he called out to her softly: “Linglong, wake up. We have to go.”
It didn’t take long for her to snap awake, eyes groggily finding the reason for her disturbance. She looked annoyed for a split second before she recognized him.
“Oh, Xiao Tang.”
His lips twitched at her nonchalance.
She looked down at Bai Yutang once more before she let out a small sigh.
“…You’re right.”
She then leaned in, pressed a light kiss on the top of his head before gently closing the casket once more, like it had never been opened in the first place.
“Let’s go.” Her voice sounded strangely flat, but she did not look back when she left, Tang Tianhao glancing back one more time before closing the door of the room with a final click.
Bao-daren,
In the event that I die, please send this letter to Bai Yutang of Xiankong Island.
In the event that I live, please burn this letter. Leave nothing behind.
Bai Yutang,
I’ll keep it short, because I know you’ll be too angry at me to read all this. But thank you. For staying with me till the bitter end. For accepting my decision to end this how I want it to.
I know you don’t care for the divine nor do you believe in fate, but if soulmates exist, then I believe that’s what we are.
To have known you and Linglong has been my greatest privilege and my greatest blessing, and I am a better man to have loved you both. I wish I could have told Linglong the truth before this, but…I‘m afraid you’ll have to tell her for me. I’m sorry. And thank you.
Let’s have another drink in the next life, alright?
— Zhan Zhao
The first night after they buried them, Linglong had haunted their graves like a guardian spirit, sitting on a stool beside them come rain or shine, quietly watching sigil over them.
He had tried all he could to coax her to come back with him, using every possible trick in his arsenal, yet the woman refused to budge, the two letters clutched to her chest like precious jewels. He finally left to bring her a new canteen of warm soup and another blanket, an umbrella perched precariously over her to protect her from the elements while he was gone.
The snow had fallen particularly hard the next day, and he was determined to drag her back if he had to, but Linglong had suddenly spoken up, stopping him in place.
“Xiao Tang,” her voice was hoarse, not surprising considering she hadn’t spoken for hours now. “When I die…could you bury me right beside Bai-dage? Right there. He wouldn’t mind that it’s me and not one of his brothers, right?”
His heart, already having been tugged and bruised and pulled apart so many times in just a few months…felt itself unraveling once more, a pain so sharp and deep it threatened to engulf him whole.
“Linglong…” His voice broke. There were so many things he wanted to say (Please don’t say that. Please. Please. Don’t leave me. I’m still here. Please don’t say that please please plea–) but he kept his mouth shut. The last thing he wanted was to shut her out completely like last time.
“I hope Ming Zhu will forgive me for moving his resting place,” she murmured, tilting her face to the open sky. “But I think he would much rather be beside Zhan-dage, don’t you agree?”
“…”
“…Promise me, Xiao Tang.”
She turned back to finally look at him proper after what felt like forever, her eyes bloodshot.
“Promise me.”
How could he bear to deny her that?
“Of course,” he whispered, his chest aching. “I promise. I promise. But…but you have to come back with me for now, okay? I- Just for a few hours. We can come back here again later.”
“…”
“The others would like their turn to speak with Bai-xiong as well, remember?” He knew that was a bit of a low blow, but he was willing to try anything so long as Linglong would come with him.
That seemed to finally do the trick, Linglong’s body all rigid as guilt no doubt started to creep into her mind.
“…I don’t want to leave them. I don’t want to go back.”
She sounded so small at that moment, so fragile and so unlike the Linglong he knew that it took everything in him not to sweep her into a bruising hug. One wrong move and she might shatter, he could feel it.
He swallowed. He understood what she meant. Going home meant coming back to an empty house where her brother and father no longer existed, her great aunt still not allowed to come back due to her own part in the case. No one to welcome her with a warm embrace or familiar laughter.
Going back meant returning to a responsibility she had no will to wield, to disciples waiting and looking to her for guidance, expecting their new master to have all the answers in the world.
Going back meant accepting her new reality, that she—
“I know,” he croaked. “But you won’t be alone. You still have me. You will always have me.”
He thought of his own sect that was still at its infancy under his leadership, older members he had to persuade and win over, those still not entirely convinced of his standing.
But his dearest friend was right there in front of him, one tiny step from giving it all up, and he realized right then and there exactly where his real priorities lie.
He reached out his hand, looking into Linglong’s eyes and willing her to believe his words.
The relief he felt when she grasped his hand was nothing like he had ever felt before.
Watching the snow falling in his hands, Tang Tianhao found that as novel as it was the first few times, snow started to all look the same after so long. He carefully brushed them away from his clothes, finishing off the last of his tea before standing up.
Linglong should be just about done by now.
Unlike that first day, the snowfall was gentle this morning, and as he leisurely made his way through the well-worn path, enjoying the way light glinted off the snow-covered trees, he was not surprised to find that the graves have been fully cleaned, snow shoveled to the side to make way for stones and mounds of dirt clearly marking their graves.
Linglong had clearly just finished lighting up the incense sticks and was now burning joss paper before them, the small trail of smoke floating higher and higher in the air.
He put down his umbrella and sat down next to her, pulling out the flowers he had picked up on the way here and the wine Linglong had brought with her.
“It’s wine from Liuke Tavern,” she had told him, eyes curving fondly as she looked back at her memory. “Zhan-dage picked it himself. Bai-dage really loved it, but he ended up too drunk to enjoy it.”
He poured the wine into two cups before giving one to Linglong, drinking a little before pouring it over all three graves.
The two of them then sat there in silence, each of them saying their prayers in their hearts. Linglong, having already said her piece before he arrived, stood up first, squeezing his shoulder gently before starting her own trek back to the manor.
He waited until he could no longer hear her footsteps before finally opening his mouth.
“Zhan-xiong, Bai-xiong,” he started, not for the first time surprised at how much easier it had become.
“Linglong has been…happier, I think. She still grows silent on her way here, but I think…I’ve just accepted that that’s how it will always be. Some things…never truly get easier.”
He took in a shaky breath, calming his mind before continuing.
“Her great aunt is finally allowed to return to the manor, and I think that’s really helped bring her around even more. And she probably already told you this, but she was able to visit the encampment where her father and brother are imprisoned last month. Things are…really looking up for her now. I can finally stop holding my breath whenever I’m not at her side.”
The last sentence came out as a hushed whisper, just in case Linglong was still able to hear him with her ability. He trusted that she wouldn’t eavesdrop him, at least not anymore, but it was better to be safe than sorry. He didn’t want her to worry over him like she did years ago, never leaving his side day and night. But it was good in the way that she was so focused on him that she didn’t have time to cause harm to herself.
“I know you’ll probably scold me for not talking more about myself, but…I don’t think you’ll blame me either.” He smiled to himself. “We all care deeply about her after all.”
He did end up telling them about the annoying new motions some of the older members had presented to “help their clan grow faster”, the members he’s had to exile due to their opposing views. He told Bai Yutang of the progress of his latest experiments and the new antidotes he had been testing, his encyclopedia of toxins and its cures he intended to leave as his life’s work already in the making.
Gone were the days where all he talked about were his fear for Huo Linglong and her subtle disregard of her own life, regular updates of her like he was afraid if he missed anything, karma would truly take everything from him.
Looking back, he realized with a grimace that if they truly had been listening the whole time, the two of them would be rolling in their graves with worry and panic. He chuckled. Well, he doubted the alternative would be better. Those two would want to know everything, he had no doubt about that.
“Anyway, that’s all I have for you this year,” he smiled.
The man dusted off his knees, took another swig of the wine before pouring it over their graves once more.
“I’ll do my best to make sure she lives a long, happy life before she reunites with you, I promise.”