Chapter Text
Coming back to consciousness to a pair of gentle hands tending his wounds was not what Xue Yang had expected. When he’d passed out, he’d half anticipated not coming back to consciousness at all, frankly. It was difficult to muster the willpower to open his eyes, lost in a fog of pain as he was.
If he’d not expected a kind stranger to help him out, he certainly hadn’t expected Xiao fucking Xingchen of all people to be his saviour. He jerked back, losing his balance as his leg gave out when he tried to put weight on it. How did Xiao Xingchen find him - why was he helping him? He could barely think coherently through the panic, nausea, and exhaustion. And pain. Xue Yang cursed himself violently. Wasn’t he used to a bit of pain? These injuries were nothing. It was almost embarrassing how disjointed his thoughts were from just a dislocated leg and some mild stabbing!
Xue Yang glowered at Xiao Xingchen and tensed, ready to fight him, ignoring how his movements jolted his wounds. He braced himself, and, with the few dregs of stamina he could muster from within, manifested an extra pair of hands. They wouldn’t accomplish much, given how weak he currently was, but they might hold off an attacker long enough for Xue Yang to escape through - he jerked his head about - the small window behind him. His manifestations were visibly underpowered. Instead of solid black they were smoky, translucent, losing wisps of themselves even as he watched.
‘What…’ He tried to speak, but it felt raw and tender, and all that came out was a rasp. The words irritated his throat, sending him into a violent coughing fit. It sounded disgustingly wet, and he wiped a rancid mouthful of blood away onto his sleeve.
The bed he was on - he was on a bed? - shifted slightly, as Xiao Xingchen sat down on the edge.
‘You’ll reopen your wounds if you move about so much.’ He spoke with a bewilderingly kind tone of voice. What was Xiao Xingchen playing at? Xue Yang had ruined his perfect little life - he couldn’t seriously have forgotten that? Unless -
Xue Yang looked at Xiao Xingchen again. His face was pale and gaunt, and his eyes were covered with a bloodstained bandage. Could it really be that Xiao Xingchen didn’t know who he’d picked up out of a ditch?
His brain was running faster than he could keep up with. If Xiao Xingchen didn’t know who Xue Yang was, and he was willing to help him out while he didn’t know, then he couldn’t find out. He couldn’t find out who he was. What Xiao Xingchen might do if he found out… images flashed through his head of the beatings he’d already taken from the dark-uniformed thugs he knew damn well were disguised Jin soldiers. Being taken down while he was this pathetically injured would hardly be the kind of hurting he found hot, even if it was Xiao Xingchen doing it.
He became aware of an odd tugging sensation. While he’d been panicking, Xiao Xingchen had quietly resumed dressing his wounds. Distracted, he felt his grasp slip on his control of his spare hands, and the weak shapes evaporated.
‘Thank you for sitting still. I’m sorry I didn’t ask before touching, but your wounds seem severe. I’m worried about the consequences of leaving them open and uncleaned.’
So caring over a random stranger! Xiao Xingchen really was something else. Xue Yang couldn’t mess this up just yet.
‘Who are you?’ His throat was so fucking sore. He vaguely remembered some bastard stepping on it at some point. The Jins had better pray they didn’t send any more soldiers around these parts. He’d rip their throats out with his teeth as repayment for this.
The little girl hanging back jumped in and interrupted before Xiao Xingchen could reply. What terrible manners. She was small, with the familiar build of someone who had gone without so often it had held back her growth. And her eyes - huh.
‘You’re blind?’
‘Are you discriminating against blind people?’ She looked puffed up with outrage, and continued muttering angrily. He could have sworn he’d seen her move backwards with alarm when he’d manifested his power. But… she did seem awfully offended by his perceived slight against the blind. Xue Yang narrowed his eyes. It was true he’d had many things going through his mind when he called up his hands - had he seen wrong? He’d have to wring the truth from her somehow. He shifted, wanting to keep as much distance between him and Xiao Xingchen. The movement made the bones in his leg grind against each other, and he bit back a pained groan.
Nevertheless, it caused Xiao Xingchen to raise his head from where he was comforting the annoying little girl.
‘I haven’t finished treating your leg. Come here.’
Oh, but Xiao Xingchen could sound authoritative when he wanted to. If Xue Yang’s mind wasn’t so preoccupied with yelling at him about pain, he’d be tempted to shiver with delight. As it was, he contented himself with pushing back just a little at his command, and didn’t move.
‘If it’s not treated soon, you could end up crippled.’
Xiao Xingchen, Xiao Xingchen. If only he knew. Xue Yang smiled ruefully to himself, and scooted himself forward away from the corner.
As Xiao Xingchen set about fixing him up, Xue Yang looked about the room. What was this place? It looked abandoned, with a thick layer of dust piling up on most of the objects around. There was a high threshold leading out into another darkened room, where he thought he could make out the faint shape of rows of… boxes? Coffins, perhaps. How the mighty had fallen. The romantic hero of the common folk, reduced to squatting in a dirty old coffin house.
Xiao Xingchen reached to tuck the end of a bandage around his thigh, nearly brushing Xue Yang’s left hand. He flinched away.
‘Oh! Did I hurt you?’ Xiao Xingchen sounded so worried. It surely had to be unhealthy, receiving so much of this kind of care.
‘Just brushed a little cut. Thank you, Daozhang, for your care.’ Xue Yang rasped. It was a little fun, pretending to be polite. Like when he’d get loose in Carp Tower and see how many toadying courtiers he could convince he was a Jin bastard they’d embarrassingly forgotten about.
Xiao Xingchen was so sweet and gullible, not even wanting to hear Xue Yang’s story for how he ended up half-dead in a ditch. What a pity. He was quite proud of how quickly he’d come up with a plausible story - how he’d been set upon by bandits on the road, who had beaten him, stolen all his money, and left him for dead - given how difficult it currently was to maintain a line of thought.
Two weeks had passed, and Xue Yang was beginning to think he almost liked it here. He’d sufficiently needled Little Blind - A-Qing, really, but her insistence on him using her actual name had guaranteed he absolutely would not - and decided she must really be blind. Nobody could knowingly face down Jiangzai like that without flinching.
It was late that evening, two weeks after being dragged out of the undergrowth, that the topic of mutations was finally raised in their strange little house.
A-Qing had been bundled up in one of the strange-smelling blankets they’d found stacked in the woodshed, warming herself by the fire. They had just spent a long while trying to work out what the scent was, with little success. Xiao Xingchen thought it might have been an incense he had smelled before, but A-Qing had countered that with the point that anyone wanting to smell like that must be deranged. Xue Yang had had his own concerns about the origin of the smell, given the blankets’ proximity to a coffin house, but it definitely wasn’t corpse purge or other fluids from decay.
After a long moment of silence, A-Qing had spoken up.
‘You know cultivators, right?’
Xiao Xingchen frowned for a moment before answering.
‘...yes?’
‘Don’t they all have magic powers?’
Xue Yang laughed. The common folk were so impressed with the most basic cultivational skills.
‘Little Blind, you’re quite naïve. Did a boy at the market brag to you about how he could hover on his sword? That’s hardly magic powers.’
A-Qing bared her teeth, and threw a rock by her feet at Xue Yang. It sailed past his shoulder - a surprisingly good throw for a blind girl - and he cackled with laughter.
‘Be nice, you two.’ Xiao Xingchen sounded amused.
‘Not hovering on a sword, you idiot! And all the market boys smell like dung. No, I mean the special powers. I heard all cultivators have a special power that only they can use.’ A-Qing pouted.
Xue Yang’s laughter dried up. Before he could answer, Xiao Xingchen cut in.
‘I understand. I believe they call the powers you’re asking about ‘mutations’.’ He seemed… distracted, fiddling with his hair in a way Xue Yang hadn’t seen him do before. ‘It’s not something every cultivator has - I think there must be more cultivators without such powers than those with. Regular people can have them, too - it’s something you’re born with, not developed, like cultivation.’
This garnered a frown from A-Qing.
‘But I’ve never heard of any common folk with powers!’ She flicked another small rock in Xue Yang’s direction. This time, it stung him on his ear.
‘Stop that!’ He hissed. ‘And use your brain, Little Blind. You know what people are like. Do you really think somebody with strange abilities would be left alone? The people with money send their powerful children off to the cultivational sects for them to deal with or lock them up in a distant room if the powers are too odd to be of use, and the people without money hide their powers and hope nobody sees them doing anything weird.’
She sighed, and nodded. Xue Yang wondered if that had been enough of a mood-killer for her to leave the topic alone, but after considering for a little while she asked another question.
‘Do you have powers, Daozhang?’
Xiao Xingchen had looked distracted before, but now he seemed downright distressed. The gentle smile on his face had faltered, and he worried at his lip before he answered.
‘I… yes, yes I do have a mutation. But… I try not to use it, nowadays. It’s caused me pain in the past that I don’t want to revisit.’
Huh. He wasn’t going to even share what his mutation was with A-Qing. Xue Yang wondered how his powers had caused him pain. It was likely connected to - him .
Of course, Xue Yang was well aware of Xiao Xingchen’s powers. And that other one’s.
He remembered that time - after he’d sent some idiot’s stall flying with a well-aimed kick and, of course, some spare hands to help fling his kitchen tools into the mud - when he’d first ran into the renowned folk heroes, that legendary pair, the Bright Moon and Gentle Breeze and Distant Snow and… ugh, whatever. How perfect Daozhang Song Lan had twisted up his face in disgust after Xue Yang had barely brushed his skin. The rage inside of Xue Yang had welled up at that look of sheer revulsion. As if Xue Yang was some dirty street urchin he could throw about. As if the tarnish on Xue Yang was contagious.
He’d asked Jin Guangyao about it afterwards. All he’d got was some bullshit excuse about mysophobia. Similarly, Jin Guangyao had no helpful answers about whether or not they even had powers, let alone what those powers could be. Though, to be fair to the asshole, Xue Yang should’ve known better than to ask a Jin about mutations. Even with all his whore father’s bastard by-blows, the line had never thrown a single individual with powers. He’d entertained some idle thoughts of experiments - perhaps cutting one open to see if there was something about them that prevented any powers from presenting. Why have so many useless extra children if not to give one up for the forward progress of science? He had been forced to share work space with possibly one of the more useless Jin by-blows, but Mo Xuanyu was too… weirdly nice to seriously consider vivisecting.
In any case, Jin Guangyao was not a person to discuss mutations with. He didn’t much like the calculating glint that lit up in his eyes when Xue Yang brought up Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan, either.
Instead Xue Yang had tied his hair up differently, dragged out his least ostentatious piss-yellow Jin robes, and quietly ventured into town. He knew how to play the part of a star-struck guest disciple, eager to hear all the gossip he could about the new heroes of the cultivation world.
The street vendors hadn’t even recognised him when he came bounding up to their stalls, bright eyed and innocent-looking. He’d asked whether they’d seen the two noble cultivators he’d heard were passing through town yesterday, and settled in to listen to their gossip.
‘Oh, yes! The Bright Frost and the Gentle Moon, and the… hm, was that it? Whatever their names, they were certainly righteous! They set some teen delinquent packing when he tried to kick over Old Zhao’s stall!’ One wizened vendor offered. Xue Yang had made a note of his face to kick in next time he visited the market.
‘Don’t be stupid! It’s the Bright Moon and Gentle Breeze , and his travelling companion the Distant Snow and Cold Frost!’ His neighbour elbowed the first speaker in the gut, getting a weird romantic look on his face. ‘They travel the land, saving the common folk with their powers!’
‘Snow… yes, that one has ice powers, doesn’t he? And his companion, so I’ve heard, can read one’s deepest thoughts with merely a touch!’ A passing tanghulu vendor leaned into the conversation, nearly catching Xue Yang’s hair on his sugary wares.
‘What! Do you have any brains in your head at all? Everyone knows it’s the Bright Moon with his famous sword, Shuanghua, who has ice powers! Why would his sword have such a design otherwise? It’s his friend that can read minds.’ The first vendor punctuated his point by waving a spatula in the tanghulu vendor’s face.
‘No, I definitely heard it was the other way around!’
‘Then why would he carry a sword with frost designs on it? If you can’t answer that, get out of my face!’
Xue Yang rolled his eyes and left while the two idiots’ argument grew more and more heated. Clearly, he wasn’t getting any more information from them.
Wherever he went he heard the same things. The Bright Moon and Gentle Breeze, the Distant Snow and Cold Frost, two cultivators who were so deeply intertwined that their individual powers had become detached from their names. That their powers were ice magic and touch telepathy, everyone agreed on. It was when they tried to assign those powers to a name that arguments broke out and everyone had a differing opinion.
He’d realised, then, that he knew exactly which way round their powers were. How fitting, for perfect Xiao Xingchen with his perfect snowy-white robes and perfect face, like a delicate fucking ice sculpture, to have control over frost and ice. And the other one. It made sense that someone who could read thoughts by touch wouldn’t want people to touch him. That wouldn’t have saved him, of course. Whether Song Lan’s look of disgust stemmed from Xue Yang’s filthy skin touching his, or reading Xue Yang’s filthy thoughts, or simply being forced to exist in Xue Yang’s filthy presence, the damage was done! Really, Song Lan should be thankful he hadn’t hit harder with that horsetail whisk of his, or, heavens forfend, hit the other hand. Xue Yang would have done a lot worse than causing a little bit of hurt to his eyes and wiping out a few insignificant folks in a backwater temple if that were the case.
His bad hand twinged - almost like it was agreeing with him. It broke him out of his fond reminiscing, and he flexed it a couple of times. The nights were beginning to stretch out, and there was already an ominous chill in the air. The pain his hand gave him in winter was hardly new, but he’d gotten used to spending his latest few winters warming his hands on gilded braziers in Carp Tower. It had… softened him, in ways he hadn’t expected. Now the promise of his first winter out in the world again, with only the draughty walls of the coffin house to keep the wind out, made his stomach flip.
Xiao Xingchen was still chewing on his lip, deep in thought over something. Probably Song Lan. Xue Yang amused himself by thinking of the expression Song Lan had made as he’d thrown poison at his eyes.
A-Qing huffed a deep, dramatic sigh, stretching her arms out and flinging another rock at Xue Yang, catching him across the cheek.
‘I gotta say, this whole ‘power’ business sounds more trouble than it’s worth, if you ask me.’
‘Nobody asked you.’ Xue Yang muttered under his breath.
Xiao Xingchen’s smile looked bittersweet.
‘I suppose it can cause... difficulties for some, but for those who are born with abilities that can help others, it can be another means by which to make the world a better place.’ He paused. ‘But I believe there are many who see mutations as a sign of superiority. I can’t agree with that. Even within cultivation circles, those without any additional powers can be as strong - or even stronger - than individuals born with them. Everyone has their own strengths and weaknesses.’
‘I agree with you, Daozhang. I don’t think I’d want any abilities. I’m happy the way I am!’ A-Qing smiled.
Xue Yang looked at her curiously, swearing internally when he remembered she couldn’t see his face.
‘Little Blind… have you never considered that you might have a mutation?’ He asked.
‘What do you mean, weirdo?’ She stuck her tongue out in his general direction. How sweet. He continued.
‘There are unusual things about you too.’
She looked angry.
‘Is this about my eyes? People have told me about them before, you know! You shouldn’t be calling people mutants just because they look a little different!’
Xue Yang rolled his eyes, resigned to the fact it was purely for his own benefit.
‘Not your eyes, actually. Though, yeah, that’s probably part of it, now you mention it. No, I meant the fact you moved at inhuman speeds when you pickpocketed me earlier.’
‘I don’t! And I didn’t pickpocket you! I move at completely normal speeds! It’s tragic that your eyesight is so bad when you’re the only one of us that can see at all.’
‘You absolutely fucking did pickpocket me, Little Blind! Do you think I don’t keep track of how much candy I have?’ Xue Yang scoffed. ‘And fine. Don’t believe me. Just think about it next time you steal somebody’s purse.’
‘And what about you?’ A-Qing tried to cross her arms, but the bulk of the blanket got in her way. ‘You must have a mutation since you’re such an expert on them.’
Xue Yang froze.
‘Ah… my power is hardly exciting. Not worth mentioning, I’m afraid. I just have a passing interest in the topic.’ He stood, and stretched. ‘It’s late. I think I’m going to turn in now.’
By the time a month had passed, Xue Yang was sick and tired of having an injured leg. The attention from Xiao Xingchen was bizarre, but he was growing to enjoy that part at least. Still, he was itching to get out with Xiao Xingchen on night hunts, and set in motion the plans he’d been formulating.
His chance came when Xiao Xingchen finally agreed to let him tag along. He’d not managed to prepare many subjects for their first experiment, but he thought the three fools who thought it sensible to insult the group while within Xue Yang’s earshot would be an excellent trial run. He used his spare hands to toss the corpse powder into the men’s faces, and quickly slash out their tongues. It sapped a lot of his energy to manifest them to do so much, but he thought it would be worth it.
And oh , but it was glorious.
Shuanghua gleamed crimson with blood, a shining beacon of destruction that cut through the three men like they were paper. What a helpful sword, guiding Xiao Xingchen to such obvious sources of resentful energy! And Xiao Xingchen looked so happy to be of use, so pleased that he was helping out the people around him. It sent a thrill right through Xue Yang that he was taking advantage of such a naïve fool.
He was curious about something, though.
‘Don’t you use your powers when you fight, Daozhang? It must be difficult, stopping after all this time.’
Xiao Xingchen frowned thoughtfully.
‘I’ve never really found my mutation to be useful in a fight. Things move too quickly for that.’
Huh. Maybe his powers were slower-acting than Xue Yang had thought.
Xue Yang had finally managed to leave the coffin house on his own. He slipped through the twilight down to the nearest stream outside the city. The mist that permanently hung around the landscape offered a certain level of privacy by itself, but he continued to search until he found a small bend in the waterway, closed off from the surrounding view by a cluster of rocks. He didn’t much welcome voyeurs.
He scrubbed himself down, clearing off the grime and sweat - and tiny spatter of blood - that had built up from their night hunt. After taking another look around, ensuring there was nobody around but himself, he cautiously took himself in hand. There was precious little privacy in the coffin home, and A-Qing’s nigh-constant presence was enough to kill any interest he had in getting off stone fucking dead.
He shivered. It had been such a long time, and it had made him more sensitive than he’d expected. As he slowly worked himself, he slipped a finger down and into his ass. The cold water had chilled his hand, and the temperature difference inside him made him gasp. It made him think of Xiao Xingchen and his ice magic. He wondered how it would feel. He imagined frost spreading out like delicate lacework from where Xiao Xingchen’s fingers would ghost over his skin - an amplification of how the cool night breeze was currently brushing his warm chest. After a moment’s hesitation, he manifested his spare hands to follow the paths across his skin that he could envision Xiao Xingchen tracing. While they provided the sensation, they were - frustratingly - without a noticeable temperature.
He pushed a second finger into himself, wondering if Xiao Xingchen’s cock would feel warm or cold. His eyes rolled back in his head as he pictured Xiao Xingchen thrusting into him, a passionate ice sculpture, a perfect contradiction, spattered with hot blood, so beautiful, all his - and he suddenly came, his spare hands disintegrating into smoke as he panted against the bank of the stream.
The next opportunity Xue Yang had to try out his plans couldn’t come fast enough. This time, he’d found a charming little farmstead which was owned by a vendor who had sniggered at Xiao Xingchen when he’d dropped his purse, and had been left groping around on the floor for coins that the vendor was hiding under his foot. Xue Yang had already held a knife up to him for it, but he felt the message could be sent a little harder.
Xiao Xingchen followed Shuanghua’s directions with beautiful poise, slashing the jugular of the final farm worker. It spewed blood, splashing across Xiao Xingchen’s face. After a moment, Shuanghua came down to rest at Xiao Xingchen’s side, and he turned calmly in Xue Yang’s direction.
‘Oh, Daozhang, you’ve got-’
‘Do I have something on my face?’ Xiao Xingchen frowned, reaching up and feeling the wetness on his cheek. With a jolt, Xue Yang found he felt more nauseated than delighted with the tableau. Especially as a trickle of the disgusting bastard’s blood rolled down Xiao Xingchen’s face and landed in the crease of his lips.
‘Yeah- I’ll just-‘ Xue Yang folded the sleeve of his robes over his hand, and carefully dabbed the blood away. It still left a rusty smear across Xingchen’s cheek, marring his soft skin.
As they walked back, Xue Yang mused on what wasn’t quite right about the scene. Had it been too many people? Surely not – there were far more at Baixue Temple and the Chang Clan. All he could conclude was that it was something about Xiao Xingchen himself that Xue Yang didn’t want to see-
‘Oof!’ Xiao Xingchen had caught his toe on a loose tree root, tripping and crashing into Xue Yang. He didn’t move for a long moment, his mouth opening and closing without saying anything. In the moonlight, his face looked pristine and glowing, apart from the smear of blood across his cheekbone. Xue Yang almost wanted to go back and kick that stupid fucker’s corpse a few more times for daring to mar Xiao Xingchen’s skin. Only Xue Yang got that privilege. Xue Yang could almost see the frost sparkling off his skin. Xiao Xingchen took a long time to stand, swaying on the spot almost like he was drunk. When he took a step forward, he walked with a limp.
‘Did you twist your ankle, Daozhang? Come here, I’ll support you on the way back!’ Xiao Xingchen shook his head dazedly, and pulled away when Xue Yang moved to touch his arm.
‘No. No thank you.’ And he set off at a swift pace, leaving Xue Yang to hurry to catch up.
Xue Yang felt wrung out. He’d been woken in the night by Xiao Xingchen in the grasp of a violent nightmare. Xiao Xingchen’s hands had been icy cold, and he’d shoved Xue Yang away when he’d gone to calm him down. It had set Xue Yang on edge - that whatever Xiao Xingchen had dreamt of was distressing enough to unconsciously activate his powers. He’d sat up for a long time after Xiao Xingchen had finally passed out again into a feverish sleep, worrying that he’d finally been found out, and that he’d wake in the morning to find the blade of Shuanghua pressed against his throat.
When Xiao Xingchen had finally emerged, though, he merely patted Xue Yang on the shoulder and left him where he was, building the fire back up from where it had died down overnight. That was... fine, then. If there was one thing Xue Yang was certain of, it was that as soon as Xiao Xingchen discovered his identity he’d immediately put an end to their domestic life. And then try to kill him, of course.
Xiao Xingchen’s manner had seemed more brusque than usual, but really, even someone as perfect as him would probably be a little off-colour after such a disturbed night.
A-Qing wasn’t up at her usual time. Shaking off the feeling of wrongness that seemed to be following Xiao Xingchen, Xue Yang went to bother her lazy ass.
‘Did the young mistress want a lie-in today?’ He called, rapping his knuckles against the wood of her coffin. ‘Get up, Little Blind. You can’t get out of pulling your weight by sleeping in.’
The only response he got was a weak groan.
‘...Little Blind?’ He peered in. Oh, fuck. A-Qing looked feverish, her cheeks unnaturally flushed, sweat beading on her forehead. When he reached down to touch the back of his hand to her forehead, she flinched away from the touch. She was burning up.
‘Daozhang!’ He called, but Xiao Xingchen didn’t respond. He sprinted to the door of the coffin house, almost tripping over the high threshold. ‘Daozhang?’
Xiao Xingchen was sitting neatly on an upturned crate, polishing his sword. He didn’t respond as Xue Yang called to him. Was he ill, too? Xue Yang hurried over and rested a hand on Xiao Xingchen’s shoulder. He froze for a moment, before the tension slowly drained out of his posture and he half-turned to Xue Yang.
‘Daozhang - I think there’s something wrong with Little Blind.’
Xiao Xingchen raised his sword to sheathe it, and, despite the urgency, Xue Yang couldn’t help but take a moment to appreciate its beauty in the watery sunlight.
After gently touching A-Qing’s forehead, Xiao Xingchen’s brow creased with concern.
‘Little Friend? Come here, I need your help.’
Xiao Xingchen directed Xue Yang through a detailed examination of A-Qing, then sent him off to fetch a basin of water and a cloth. Xue Yang set them carefully down next to Xiao Xingchen, who set to work.
‘Is Little Blind alright? It’s weird not hearing her curse me out.’
Xiao Xingchen’s breath sounded shaky. He wrung out the excess water from the cloth and mopped A-Qing’s forehead with it.
‘She needs a doctor. The rash you described - I’ve seen people die from this illness before. But… we don’t have enough.’ They had pooled the small amount of coin they had, and didn’t have much extra to spare. In the warmer months, when people wore looser clothes and swung their purses around carelessly, A-Qing had been able to pickpocket more often, but since the chill had set in and people wrapped themselves up in layers there had been fewer and fewer opportunities.
Xiao Xingchen’s chin wobbled. A faint flush of red began to seep through his bandages.
‘We don’t have enough and I don’t have anything I can sell. I had - I had jade ornaments , and I sold them for food money months before running into A-Qing. I can practice inedia! I’m so selfish.’ He clenched his fists.
‘Daozhang. Don’t be dumb. You’d still need to eat eventually, even if you can practice inedia. And I don’t think your powers are that of precognition. How exactly were you supposed to predict that you’d pick up a bunch of strays that might need a doctor one day?’ Xue Yang hesitated, but carefully rested his good hand over Xiao Xingchen’s fists. This wasn’t the kind of triumphant moment of defeat Xue Yang wanted for Xiao Xingchen. Though, if he were being honest with himself, the idea of any scenario where Xue Yang forced Xiao Xingchen into a pit of despair was becoming less and less attractive.
He sat for a moment, pulling his hand away from Xiao Xingchen and instead fidgeting with the familiar bumps and ridges of his bad hand. If… if something happened to A-Qing, it would break the comfortable rhythm that they’d settled into at the coffin house. He decided he didn’t want that. Not yet, in any case.
Xue Yang reached into his qiankun sleeve, rummaging for something that must have fallen to the very bottom.
‘Daozhang? I might have something that could help.’ Ah! There it was. He pulled out a small object, wrapped in a cloth. ‘It’s not that high in value, but it should be enough to pay for a doctor and Little Blind’s medicine.’ He pressed the leaf-shaped hair ornament into Xiao Xingchen’s hands. It had been an early gift from Jin Guangshan, back when they were still testing the parameters of Xue Yang’s… arrangement with the Jins. He’d barely ever worn it, but it was his , and it was valuable, and it felt like he was kicking Chang Cian’s teeth in every time he looked at it. But Chang Cian was dead now, just like the rest of his shitty little clan, and A-Qing was still alive, and needed a doctor.
‘You…’ Xiao Xingchen’s bandages bloomed with red. Xue Yang panicked.
‘It’s not sentimental or anything! Why are you upset - it’s just something I’ve kept with me for a bit, is all! It’s not a family fucking heirloom-’ Xue Yang stopped speaking as Xiao Xingchen pulled him into a hug and squeezed him tightly for a moment, burying his face in Xue Yang’s neck. He could feel the slightly damp, warm spots on Xingchen’s bandage brushing against his skin. Would there be a faint mark of Xiao Xingchen’s blood marking Xue Yang when he let go? He shivered involuntarily at the thought.
‘C’mon, Daozhang, let’s get this to a doctor and get Little Blind fixed up, yeah?’
Xiao Xingchen nodded into Xue Yang’s throat.
When they finally found a doctor who would help them, Xue Yang fixed the harried-looking man with a glare as Xiao Xingchen rattled off her symptoms.
‘Is she coughing up blood, too?’ The doctor frowned as he rummaged through the phials on the counter.
‘No?’
‘Oh. It’s just -’ The doctor looked at Xue Yang, and made a gesture at his own neck. ‘You’ve got a bit of…’
‘Blood?’ Xue Yang reached up and ran his fingers over the spot on his neck that Xiao Xingchen had cried against. He grinned, exposing his sharp canines. His smile widened when he saw the doctor try and hide his shudder.
Once he’d had the fun of letting him squirm, he continued.
‘No, she’s not been coughing up blood. This is…’ His grin had never faded. ‘From something else.’
The doctor did not reply, and hurried to pack up the phials he had selected from his store. Xue Yang could always appreciate a wise man like him.
‘Ready to head out?’ Xue Yang smiled at Xiao Xingchen. He had the perfect route planned to meet with the first doctor they’d tried to ask for aid from, who’d first looked down his nose at the payment they could offer and then made a blithe remark about it being kinder to let the blind girl die. The look on that fucker’s face when Shuanghua ran him through would be glorious. He’d learn not to underestimate the blind. Xue Yang couldn’t wait!
Xiao Xingchen paused, his hand tightening on the rim of the coffin A-Qing was fitfully sleeping in.
‘Actually… Little Friend, I think it may be better if you stayed behind tonight.’
‘But -’
‘A-Qing is still ill - someone needs to stay and keep an eye on her. What if her condition worsened again while we were away?’ Xiao Xingchen was holding himself very still, his posture tight. Was he angry at Xue Yang for not thinking of that?
‘I don’t think she’s that -’
‘You’re staying here.’ He turned and left the coffin house before Xue Yang could try and get out another argument.
‘What the fuck…?’ Xue Yang was left standing in the middle of the coffin room. A part of him was filled with fury at the dismissive way Xiao Xingchen had spoken to him. How dare he interrupt him and command him about? Xue Yang took a deep breath, and looked again at A-Qing. Her complexion was still ashen, and her breath whistled when she inhaled. He supposed he could understand Xiao Xingchen being worried about her. Xue Yang would let it slide this time.
The pattern continued like this for weeks, as A-Qing steadily but slowly improved. Every time Xue Yang offered to accompany Xiao Xingchen on a night hunt, he was forced to stay home and babysit A-Qing instead. He couldn’t deny that she did need babysitting, though. There had been a few occasions where A-Qing’s dwindling fever had spiked, and Xue Yang was left sitting up through lonely nights monitoring her temperature.
One night, when Xiao Xingchen had managed to sit A-Qing up near the fire, she began clamouring for stories like she was a little snot-nosed brat rather than a snot-nosed teenager. Of course the first thing she’d do once she was back in high spirits was give Xue Yang a headache. Xiao Xingchen gave in, and began telling his own depressing little life story. As much as it set Xue Yang’s hackles up, he did his best to hold back any prodding comments. In recognition of the stress Xiao Xingchen had been under, recently. Truly, Xue Yang was magnanimous. Even when he brought up Song Lan, he bit his tongue and kept from asking the question that came to his lips. Where is he now, Xiao Xingchen?
He wasn’t sure what seized him when he volunteered to share a story. Perhaps it was some bizarre urge to share a genuine part of himself with Xiao Xingchen. Something he wasn’t obligated to lie about. There were hundreds of street kids that got kicked about by people in power. It was only the part that happened next that was… unusual. Well, maybe not so unusual, but the children that those sorts of bad things happened to didn’t often live to grow up to sit around a fire telling stories.
A-Qing wasn’t impressed by his tale. Xue Yang enjoyed her shouting that she’d spit in Chang Cian’s food and hit him. He wondered if, had she actually been there, she would have followed through on those claims. It seemed… likely. If only he’d had her convictions when he was seven! If the destruction of his hand was inevitable, getting some well-aimed kicks in on the bastard would have given him something to draw strength on during those long, feverish nights.
Later that evening, Xue Yang watched as Xiao Xingchen lifted A-Qing into her coffin with ease. Leaning against the threshold, he wondered how easily Xiao Xingchen would be able to lift him. When A-Qing was settled, Xiao Xingchen stepped towards him.
‘In your story... what happened next?’ Xingchen cocked his head to one side.
‘Nothing worth talking about. You didn’t finish your story, either.’ Xue Yang shook his head in exasperation. He couldn’t tell the rest of his story, not when it framed his injury so perfectly. Xiao Xingchen’s little story about travelling with Song Lan had reminded Xue Yang of just how fragile their situation was, how a mere story could permanently destroy it.
‘Well, it hardly matters. You’re here now, and it never helps to dwell so much on the past.’ Xue Yang felt his fists clench, the twinge of misfiring nerves in his bad hand another shitty reminder of what Chang Cian had done to him. Not dwell on the past? How could Xue Yang do anything but! Every time it rained, or grew cold, or he practiced sword forms for too long, or even just because he had the audacity to continue existing, he was reminded of the past. All the words he’d held back on Xiao Xingchen’s account about his life story threatened to flood out.
There was a pressure on his arm. Xiao Xingchen let his hand rest there.
‘I’m sorry.’ He sounded so sincere. ‘That was rude of me. It would be hypocritical of me to make judgements on not dwelling on the past when here I am, hesitant to use my own powers as a result of the past.’ Xue Yang found he suddenly couldn’t look away from Xiao Xingchen as he shot him a kind smile. The anger he’d felt had - well, it hadn’t vanished, but only dregs of it were left, like debris clinging to a half-washed plate. ‘The boy in the story was you, wasn’t it? It must have been awful, to be treated like that when you’d done nothing wrong.’
With a strange jolt in his stomach, Xue Yang realised that this might be the first time anybody had been sincerely sympathetic about his life. It felt... gross. Like a swarm of butterflies had nested in his torso. He didn’t know how to respond. How did you respond when people said things like that? Did you thank them?
‘Thank...you?’ Ugh, that didn’t sound right.
Xiao Xingchen reached out, first carefully brushing Xue Yang’s fringe with his fingers, then more confidently moving to pat him on the head. As Xiao Xingchen glided past him to prepare to sleep, Xue Yang realised his cheeks were burning hot.
While he was working on patching up the roof (for what felt like the hundredth time) the next morning, Xue Yang realised his pockets were significantly lighter than they had been the day earlier. He smiled to himself. Little Blind really was getting better. Hopping down from the roof, he stalked into the coffin house and stood by A-Qing’s coffin, feigning anger. ‘Little Blind can’t be that sick if she’s well enough to steal from her poor overworked friend, who sold his own earthly possessions to pay for medicine to make her better.’ He crossed his arms.
A-Qing leisurely raised her eyebrows, crunching one of Xue Yang’s candies with her back teeth. She took her time chewing it, not speaking until it was fully gone.
‘You told me to think about whether or not I had powers when I next pickpocketed someone. I was merely taking your advice!’
‘And did you think about it?’
A-Qing huffed, throwing another candy into her mouth.
‘I thought about it.’ Her voice was garbled around the sweet.
‘This is like trying to get blood from a stone. What were your fucking thoughts about it?’
‘My thoughts were… I need to test it more. Watch out!’ A-Qing laughed, then coughed as she nearly inhaled the candy.
Xue Yang snorted.
‘Go ahead, choke on my hard earned candy. Give me them back now.’
A-Qing rummaged in the folds of her clothes.
‘Here’s the bag back. That was the last one.’ The nerve of this girl!
‘You-! Spit that one out, now!’ Xue Yang leant into the coffin and pinched at her cheek.
‘Nooo!! That’s so nasty! Daozhang! Daozhang!! The weirdo’s trying to eat food out of my mouth!’
Xiao Xingchen appeared in the doorway.
‘He’s trying to do what ?!’
‘Daozhang!’ Xue Yang was half-overbalancing into the coffin. ‘She ate all my candies! All of them! Clearly she’s better now!’
Xingchen sighed.
‘A-Qing. You’ll make yourself sick if you eat that many candies.’
‘I hope you choke on your puke.’ Xue Yang muttered.
‘Hey! I heard that!’ A-Qing bared her teeth.
‘That’s enough.’ Xiao Xingchen was barely hiding his laughter, and even as he tried to fix a serious look on his face, a smile kept breaking through at the corners of his mouth. ‘Did you really eat all of our Little Friend’s candies, A-Qing?’
‘She did!’ Xue Yang pouted. ‘How am I meant to keep from dwelling on the past if I’m reminded so harshly of the times I didn’t have any candies?’
Xingchen’s serious look dissolved fully into a smile, and he once again reached out to pat Xue Yang’s hair. It felt so fucking weird. He hoped Xiao Xingchen would keep doing it.
That night, as Xue Yang sat at the table tallying up their expenses, Xiao Xingchen came to him wordlessly. He carefully placed something on the table, by the sheets of paper covered in Xue Yang’s chaotic handwriting. He was gone before Xue Yang could look up.
Sitting on the table was a single piece of candy.
Xue Yang put down his brush, letting it roll across the paper and blot out his last column of figures. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears. There was a part of him that wanted to run after Xiao Xingchen and shake him, yell at him exactly who he was fulfilling the wildest childhood dreams of. The rest of him wanted - he wanted to - he didn’t know what he wanted to do. All he could do was stare at the piece of candy until it doubled in his vision.
The next morning, all that was left on the table was the burnt down stump of a candle, some ruined sheets of paper, and a brush coated in long-dried ink.
Xue Yang came to a decision a few days later. He was trying to fix up some of the draughtier holes in the door with scraps of wood, throwing any and every silly wordplay or raunchy joke he’d ever heard in Xiao Xingchen’s direction. Xingchen was supposed to be doing the laundry, but in reality was doubled over at one of Xue Yang’s stupid jokes, his smile wide and genuine. Xue Yang let his hands still at his task, resting his cheek on the hammer. The satisfaction he got from this was equal to that of tricking Xiao Xingchen into murdering live people, but with so much less work. He didn’t even have to dip into his stock of corpse powder to get this result!
Of course, that left the problem of the disrespectful villagers still looming. He wasn’t going soft , or anything. They would still be dealt with, but Xue Yang would handle it himself. But he had concluded that he’d been approaching the issue with all the subtlety of a saber, when a much finer blade could handle it far better. Killing the fuckers who tried to foist shitty vegetables off on Xiao Xingchen was effective, certainly, but all it meant was a new vendor quickly muscled in on the retail space. Then Xue Yang had to start his intimidation tactics all over again. No. Surely a finer technique of threatening them into submission - with some collaboration with A-Qing’s swift fingers - could whip the market vendors of Yi City into shape. Once they learnt some respect it could be a very beneficial partnership!
Xue Yang wasn’t a child anymore. He couldn’t carry on with the same attitude he’d had as a teen, kicking over stalls whenever he fancied. It was well past time he matured into extortion. He recognised it was all sickeningly Jin Guangyao of him, but he preferred to think of it as unapologetically stealing his techniques rather than honouring him in any way.
Xue Yang’s quiet trips down to the stream were slowly becoming a habit. He couldn’t find the time to slip out regularly – especially now he had been tasked with looking after A-Qing so often. She’d tell on him if she found out he’d been sneaking out alone, and Xiao Xingchen would get that small, disappointed look on his face that Xue Yang wasn’t as much of a fan of as any of his smiles.
Nevertheless, he’d found the time right now, and he was excited. Amongst a stall of assorted items and curios he’d spotted a peculiar curved jade item. The vendor had been trying to sell it to passers-by as a rare paperweight, but Xue Yang knew a sex toy when he saw one. He’d slipped it into his sleeve when A-Qing had caused a scene nearby with one of her pickpocketing tricks.
It had needed a good scrub, of course, but now it was ready to be used. He carefully dipped it into the chilly waters of the stream and rested it there to cool, while he settled himself down on a nearby rock and slicked up his fingers with oil. Xiao Xingchen would be gentle, he decided, slowly slipping one finger inside himself. He rocked himself back on his finger, feeling his cock twitch against his thigh when it brushed that spot inside him. One wasn’t enough, so he slid another in, enjoying the burn. He thought if he let Xiao Xingchen know that he didn’t mind a bit of pain, he might have a go at exploring it with him. Xue Yang liked that idea. It was like a version of his corrupted night hunt plans, but with fucking. He thought that might be much more fun, in any case. He roughly scissored his fingers, curling his toes in pleasure at the sensation. The pale jade in the water caught his eye, and he quickly shoved in a third finger. Xue Yang wanted to get to the part he’d been most anticipating.
He had barely prepared himself enough, but he carefully reached into the water with his manifested hands and pulled out the jade member, coating it with oil. He wanted to stroke it with his real hands, but he was afraid the warmth in them would transfer too quickly and spoil his fun.
He let the manifested hand slowly press the jade into him. His motor skills weren’t quite as fine with them as with his real hands, and the slight detachment from control of the toy could almost help him believe it was actually Xiao Xingchen behind him.
The jade was cold, and it made his body spasm and shiver as it entered him. He gasped loudly, and the sound echoed off the mist-drenched rocks and trees around him.
He pushed himself back against the jade as he slowly began to fuck himself with it. It chilled his insides, almost numbing against his prostate. As he moved he could feel it beginning to warm up, and the thought of the same happening with Xiao Xingchen’s cock made him buck his hips harder. He would warm up his icy body with his own, transferring heat to Xiao Xingchen from his body. He reached down and stroked himself with one of his real hands, closing his eyes so he could pretend the hand wasn’t his - that it wasn’t just cool from being chilled in the night air. Xue Yang continued until his thighs burned from exertion, the jade completely warmed through inside him. As the waves of orgasm threatened to overwhelm him, he wondered if Xiao Xingchen’s cum would feel warm or cold inside of him, and promptly came so hard he nearly passed out and bashed his head on the rocks.
Xiao Xingchen was injured, and he refused to tell Xue Yang how he’d got hurt.
He’d set off on another lone night hunt, still insisting A-Qing wasn’t well enough to be left alone, and had limped back in just before dawn broke. All his robes around his right leg were saturated with blood, startlingly crimson against the white.
He flinched away when Xue Yang sat a basin of water down next to him to start cleaning his wounds.
‘Daozhang? What’s the matter?’ Xiao Xingchen shook his head, clutching at his temple immediately as if the movement had caused him pain. ‘You’re hurt, Daozhang, won’t you let me help you?’
‘I’m. I’m fine, Little Friend.’ Xiao Xingchen flashed a weak smile. ‘I can treat this by myself.’
Xue Yang sighed.
‘You can , but you don’t have to. So let me help you!’
Xiao Xingchen put his hand down on Xue Yang’s shoulder, and politely but firmly pushed away.
‘Please. I’m perfectly capable of doing this on my own.’
Xue Yang pulled Xiao Xingchen’s hand off of his shoulder and put it back in Xingchen’s lap.
‘I know you are. Just let me-’ Xue Yang reached for the hem of his robes, to examine the wound.
‘I said, no!’ Xiao Xingchen tried to push Xue Yang off him, but it was too late. Xue Yang had a firm grip on Xingchen’s ankle, where underneath the sheen of still-wet blood the stark black of a curse mark was clearly visible.
‘ Daozhang! ’ Xue Yang stared at the mark with horror. Xiao Xingchen was still trying to pull his leg away.
‘Please… I’m fine , I can deal with this myself, it’s nothing…’
‘You’re not stupid enough to truly believe this is nothing.’ Xue Yang breathed through his nose, trying to keep his hands firm and not let them shake. ‘Daozhang, there’s so much resentment in this.’ He manifested his spare hands, the black shapes appearing already rummaging in his qiankun sleeves for supplies. While he held Xingchen’s leg with his two corporeal hands, his others set out his supplies on the table. They pulled out his stick of cinnabar, but hesitated, threw it back in again, and instead pulled out a dagger. Might as well.
‘Was it a resentful spirit? Did you disturb them?’ Xiao Xingchen didn’t reply, keeping his chin held high. Xue Yang waited patiently, before prodding at the curse mark with his finger. Xiao Xingchen hissed, and seemed to give in. He nodded.
‘I must have angered them when I tried to exorcise their haunting spot.’
Xue Yang hummed in acknowledgement.
‘What are you going to do?’ Xiao Xingchen must have heard the rustling of the talisman paper.
‘I’ll go and sort out those spirits later today. For now, I can hold the curse back and stop it from causing you any pain or inconvenience. Not a permanent fix, but hopefully by the time it wears off the spirits will be dealt with…’ Xue Yang’s brain was far ahead of him, and he lapsed into quietly articulating his plans under his breath. He reached for the dagger and nicked his finger, beginning to draw out the talisman in his own blood. The Yiling Patriarch had written down all sorts of fascinating ideas about talismans in his notes, and Xue Yang had always found them a delightful jumping off point for his own ideas.
After a few minutes, he sat up triumphantly, and slapped his talisman onto Xiao Xingchen’s leg. Xiao Xingchen yelped, before the taught lines of pain across his face that had been present since he arrived back finally smoothed out.
‘Just rest up, Daozhang. I’ll bandage your other wounds and get started on fixing your little spirit problem.’
It was only after Xue Yang had cleaned and wrapped Xiao Xingchen’s wounds and was hot on the trail of the resentful spirit that had caused them, following another talisman of his design, that it occurred to him he had shown off skills abnormal for a cultivator. A bolt of ice shot down his spine. Had he just blown his cover? Xiao Xingchen hadn’t looked shocked or surprised in any way. Surely, if he’d figured out Xue Yang’s identity he would have had more of a response?
Xiao Xingchen continued to not have any reaction, even after Xue Yang returned from wringing that spirit’s sorry neck until it dissipated.
The next time Xiao Xingchen tried to leave for a night hunt on his own, Xue Yang refused to back down.
‘Last time you went out on your own, you got hit with a curse mark! It would be irresponsible of me to continue staying back. And the only illness that Little Blind still has is being sick of my company-’
‘Hell yeah I am!’
‘- see, she really is! So I should come out with you.’
Xue Yang was concerned about how a cultivator as strong as Xiao Xingchen had let his guard down to be hit by a curse mark like that. There had been reports of a cursed pig in a village nearby, and Xue Yang was excited to see if it had eaten whole people like Mo Xuanyu said pigs could. It sounded like a fun little trip, without any opportunities for Xingchen to get himself injured.
When Xue Yang explained what he’d heard to Xiao Xingchen, he looked oddly confused and cautious.
‘And you’re sure it’s a pig?’ He quizzed.
‘Well, they’re saying it’s a pig. I haven’t gone out to check in person, Daozhang, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’ve been rather preoccupied with babysitting recently.’
Xiao Xingchen looked deep in thought for a while, before he eventually nodded.
‘Okay. Let’s go and find out what’s going on.’
As it turned out, it was a pig. The farmlands were particularly susceptible to spirits like those, and, before they knew it, Xiao Xingchen and Xue Yang were swamped with farmers coming to beg them to visit and solve whatever ghostly problem was facing them. It could get quite boring: the farmers loved to gossip, even when Xue Yang made it perfectly clear he didn't give a shit about what they were saying; and the work was hardly ever as exciting as some ghosts that could be found. But Xiao Xingchen lit up whenever they were gifted produce or he was handed an animal to pat, and that, Xue Yang found, was entertaining enough in itself.
A-Qing was in a mood to bother people. Xue Yang could tell from the way she was jabbing sticks into the ground. She was bored, and ready to make that everyone else’s problem.
‘Daozhang, there was a big family in the city today. I heard the mother talking to her children, and she sounded so kind. My parents weren’t like that, but I bet yours are as kind as you!’ She rested her chin on her knee. ‘Can you tell us about your parents?’
Xiao Xingchen looked utterly taken aback.
‘Oh- no, not really. Baoshan Sanren is a teacher and mentor, not a mother. I had a great many martial siblings, but one doesn’t accept the offer to train on the celestial mountain with an immortal for the chance to gain a new parent.’ Xiao Xingchen sighed, smiling down at the basket he was mending. ‘And while I’m sure I did have parents at some point, I’m afraid I don’t remember them.’
Xingchen stopped weaving, his fingers absently tracing over the pattern of the basket.
‘I… did have one experience with a parental figure, though.’ There was a tightness about his mouth. ‘Not mine, but… it was nice to see what it would be like, you know? My old- my old friend, at his temple. They were closer than others I’d come across before. Like a big family.’
Xue Yang sat up sharply. Xiao Xingchen continued.
‘The master there – he always said he’d wanted to be a father, and he treated every one of his students like his own child. He always had kind words for them – even when I visited, he began to extend the same treatment to me, you know? And he would smile this big, warm smile when any of them did something praiseworthy, and he’d say how proud he was, and Zi- and my friend would smile back at him.’ Xue Yang’s hands were clenched tight. His bad hand ached from the tension.
‘The other children there would smile like that too. It was nice, there being no favouritism. I think my friend had his favourites of his martial siblings, though. There was a girl, quite a few years younger than us. She used to sit on the floor and pout until you played with her hair. She got so excited when you’d give her a hairstyle she’d never had before-‘
Xue Yang stood, letting the pot he was scouring clatter to the floor.
‘What are you doing? Are you going somewhere?’ A-Qing sounded accusatory. He couldn’t quite tell if she really was that upset about him interrupting Xiao Xingchen’s precious little story time, or if his mind was making everything sound like an accusation.
‘I- need to go. Piss.’
A-Qing stuck her tongue out at him. He ignored her. Xiao Xingchen hadn’t said anything. He just sat there, listening. Fuck that, and fuck him.
Xue Yang slipped out of the gate as quietly as he could, his hand fumbling in his qiankun sleeve for a dagger. He hoped his path crossed with someone, anyone , so he could - he could show them just how deadly Xue Yang was. He didn’t even have to use his sword. He could make them hurt, and it wouldn’t bother him. He wasn’t a good person, and that was how he liked it.
The path through the woods was silent. All he could hear was the chirrups of night wildlife and his own laboured breathing.
With a howl he swung his dagger into the nearest tree. It glanced off the bark, only sending a small chip of wood flying into the undergrowth. He hit again, and again, and again, until the blade stuck and he had to yank it out.
He wasn’t upset about some stupid story that stupid Xiao Xingchen was telling about stupid people who weren’t even alive anymore! They were dead! Song Lan’s paternal master wouldn’t smile that smile that Xiao Xingchen had liked ever again, because Xue Yang had slit his throat and laughed as he bled out like a butchered pig. He kept hacking at the tree.
Song Lan’s little sister wouldn’t ever get her hair done again either, because Xue Yang had killed her too. He couldn’t even say how he’d done it. All the little disciples had blurred.
The blade had gotten stuck again. In his attempt to pull it out, he slid his palm over the sharp edge.
‘ Fuck!’ His voice was a sob, and his hand slid off the dagger as he crumpled to the floor. ‘Fuck.’
He doubled over, retching nothing into the grass.
He’d ruined everything in his life before it was even presented to him. Any chance of this perfect bubble of a life remaining intact had vanished long before Xiao Xingchen had picked him up out of that ditch. Maybe it would have been better for everyone if Xue Yang had died then, instead of sullying Xiao Xingchen more and building up his own hopes for a life that could never exist.
Ugh.
Was this what a conscience felt like? It fucking sucked.
He stared down at his hands. They were stained with his own blood.
The months passed, in a trickle at first, then all in a rush, until Xue Yang looked back one morning and realised he’d been living at the coffin house with Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing for well over two years. It was hardly an easy way of living, but somehow, in between all the stupid arguments with Little Blind and strange half-flirtations with Daozhang, Xue Yang had realised that this dingy little place was far more of a home to him than anywhere he’d been before.
He shook himself out of his sappy musings, and brought the axe down on the final log he was cutting for firewood. Gathering it up, he kicked the rickety door of the woodshed open and sloppily jammed the shitty door stop under it.
Xue Yang hefted the load of firewood down onto the pile, and took a half-step back.
‘Shit!’
All of a sudden the world inverted as his foot slipped over a thin branch that had fallen from the pile, and he toppled over into the wood stack. There was a sting in his hand where he had reached out to try and steady his balance, and a dull ache radiated from the back of his calves and his ass where he’d landed heavily into the logs.
‘Little Friend?!’ Xingchen stumbled into the woodshed, his hands reaching out to find Xue Yang.
‘I’m down here - I just slipped on a fucking twig, is all.’ Xiao Xingchen was silhouetted against the light pouring in through the half open door. Ethereal as always, even in a dirty little woodshed.
‘Are you alright?’ He was moving hesitantly towards Xue Yang, minding for more trip hazards.
‘I’m fine, I’m fine. Probably the worst I’ve got is some bruised pride and a splinter or two.’
Xingchen reached out his hands to find Xue Yang. As his fingers brushed Xue Yang’s arm, there was a thunk, and the door to the woodshed flew shut. The small space was plunged into darkness, with only a few thin beams of light pushing through the cracks in the walls.
‘Oh! What was that?’ Xue Yang felt Xingchen’s words as much as he heard them, puffs of air warm against his face.
‘The door shut. You must have knocked out the door stop when you came in. Be careful - there’s wood all over the floor now, and I can’t warn you of where. I can’t see a damn thing.’
Xingchen laughed. ‘Me neither!’
Xue Yang snorted in response. He shifted, moving to try and get up, but as he leant his hand on the floor he overbalanced, and fell into Xiao Xingchen.
Fuck, he smelled so good. Xue Yang’s nose was buried in the crook of Xiao Xingchen’s neck, his cheek brushing against Xiao Xingchen’s warm skin. It dragged a gasp out of him, as Xiao Xingchen’s arms came up to steady him against his chest.
Xue Yang wanted - he wanted - to touch. He wanted to manifest his spare hands, touch Xiao Xingchen all over, get lost in the sensation of him in this dark corner where it was just the two of them. He imagined reaching up and cupping Xingchen’s face, bringing him down to Xue Yang’s level, how it’d feel being even closer than they already were. What if - the image rose to his mind so quickly, of holding Xingchen’s face still as Xue Yang finally, finally, brought their lips together. Would it be tender? Would Xiao Xingchen bite at his lips, glossing them red with Xue Yang’s own blood? Xue Yang was lost in a sea of impossible scenarios. He wanted this so, so badly, even if Xiao Xingchen never did and it remained only in his fantasies.
He felt Xingchen’s warm breath against his face, impossibly close, and he barely had time to register what was happening before he felt pressure against his lips. It started boldly, before hesitating and gentling in force. Before Xiao Xingchen could pull away, Xue Yang pressed back, curling his hands into the collar of Xingchen’s robes.
Xiao Xingchen kissed as beautifully as he did everything else. Because that’s what they were doing. They were kissing. Xiao Xingchen was kissing him, Xue Yang. On the mouth. With his mouth. What the fuck .
Xiao Xingchen moved one of his hands up to the back of Xue Yang’s neck, angling his head to kiss him deeper.
Xue Yang moved to straddle Xiao Xingchen, gasping into his mouth as he did. Xiao Xingchen took the opening and pushed his tongue into Xue Yang’s mouth, the hand not supporting Xue Yang’s neck slowly sliding down to rest at the small of his back. His long fingers just barely touched the swell of Xue Yang’s ass, and the sensation made him shiver.
The kissing – he was kissing Xiao Xingchen, what the fuck – continued for what Xue Yang could confidently say was months, perhaps years.
A portion of the log pile that clearly couldn’t read the mood decided to finally lose its balance after Xue Yang had knocked into it, and toppled over, barely missing the pair.
Xiao Xingchen broke away and laughed. Xue Yang tried to muffle the whine in his throat as Xiao Xingchen moved his lips, that had been kissing him (him!), away again. He hid his face in Xingchen’s neck. He felt the hum of his laughter even better from here.
‘I can feel how warm your face is, Little Friend. There’s no reason to hide your face! I promise I won’t peek.’
Xue Yang chuckled.
There was an odd pause, heavy with a tension that hadn’t been present before. Xue Yang decided to break it.
‘I should. Get back to putting the wood away. This is-’ he made a pathetic gesture to the pitch black room around him, to a blind man, ‘This is a mess.’ He finished lamely.
Xiao Xingchen made a small noise of affirmation, and helped Xue Yang to his feet. Before he left the woodshed, Xiao Xingchen carefully tipped Xue Yang’s chin up and kissed him in a short peck.
Sitting next to his usual piece of candy that evening was a small, innocent looking stick. Xue Yang weighed it in his hands and smiled.
‘You were being gross in the woodshed!’ A-Qing splashed water in his general direction as she paddled her feet in the stream. Xue Yang, with his trousers rolled up to his knees, kicked water back at her.
‘You’re such a nosy Little Blind. Do you want fish, or are you going to splash more water at me?’
‘You were kicking water at me, too! I felt it! What’s going to be more scary for the fish, a little splash of water or your gross feet?’
Xue Yang blew a raspberry at her.
‘No, but seriously, you were kissing Daozhang, weren’t you? In the woodshed?’
‘Will you shut up if I say yes?’ Xue Yang doubted it.
‘Nope!’ She sang. ‘Why would he want to kiss you, anyway?’
‘Fuck if I know.’ Aha. Xue Yang spotted a gleaming silver fish in the water, and lunged for it with both his real hands and his manifested ones. The manifested ones just barely caught it, and he picked it up to take back to the shore. Surely this would be easier if he had bait- was there anything in his sleeves?
As he rearranged things in his sleeves, A-Qing lunged with her foot, and kicked him down into the water.
‘What the fuck! Little Blind!’ The pouch he’d wrongly pulled out of his sleeve was drenched with water, and he quickly shoved it back so he could do his best to drench A-Qing as well.
They scared most of the fish away with their roughhousing, and had to make a sodden detour through the nearest market to slip enough fish off the fishmonger’s stall to make a meal for all three of them.
Xue Yang was in a terrible mood. As he’d been shifting one of the spare coffins like Xiao Xingchen had asked him to do, the lid had come slamming down on his bad hand. His vision had whited out from the pain, and it had left him feeling sore and disgustingly vulnerable. Like he was balancing on a knife’s edge.
It had only taken A-Qing accidentally brushing past his bad hand to send him toppling off that edge.
‘For fuck’s sake, Little Blind! Can’t you mind where you’re going for once? What’s the point of carrying that shitty cane around if you can’t even use it? Are you stupid or something?’ He snarled, shoving A-Qing away from him. She stumbled, and fell to the floor. She was silent for a moment, then started howling for her Daozhang.
Before Xiao Xingchen could come in and scold him like the perfect fucking teacher he was, Xue Yang stalked out of the room. He caught Xingchen with his shoulder as he hurried towards A-Qing.
‘Fuck off.’ Xue Yang muttered, pushing past and resolving to find a quiet corner in the valley to sulk.
He moped for what felt like hours. His hand was impossible to ignore, aching in a way that echoed all the way up his arm and down into his belly. It felt wrong, in the way that Xue Yang’s teeth felt wrong when he got a kernel stuck between his molars. Like his bones were shifted in a way that they shouldn’t be. Of course, all the bones in his hand were shifted in a way they shouldn’t be. They felt lumpy, most certainly out of place, and a part of Xue Yang nursed the worry that he’d rebroken something and he’d be left in this state of heightened sensitivity for months.
‘Little Friend?’
Xiao Xingchen was traipsing through the undergrowth, not far from where Xue Yang was perched on a rock. The sight of him emerging from the mists was enough to set a completely different kind of ache resonating down to his belly.
‘Daozhang.’
‘Oh, thank goodness. I was worried you’d run away for good.’
Xue Yang laughed bitterly.
‘Maybe I should. Little Blind definitely wants me to.’
Xiao Xingchen reached for him, groping around until Xue Yang carefully placed his own (good) hand on top of Xingchen’s. He immediately held it tight.
‘She doesn’t. And neither do I. What happened today, friend? A-Qing was winded when you shoved her like that.’
Xue Yang struggled to find the right words. He couldn’t say anything that would make Xiao Xingchen suspicious.
‘I… hurt my hand. When I was moving the coffins. She bumped into it. That’s all.’ Of course, Xingchen didn’t have to know that it had just exacerbated an injury that was already there. He’d kept it hidden so well, all the nights he’d spent curled up around it, the one horrible winter day when it had clawed up and he couldn’t move it at all.
After he spoke, he felt Xiao Xingchen stiffen up next to him, and remove his hand from where it held Xue Yang’s good one.
Had he said anything - no. No, he hadn’t said anything incriminating. Just callous, about A-Qing. Enough for Xiao Xingchen to be disgusted at the thought of touching him. In his weary mind, it was too much.
‘...please.’ Xue Yang fell forward, taking Xiao Xingchen’s arms and wrapping them loosely around him. ‘Please, don’t pull away. Not right now. I’m sorry.’ He needed Xingchen to touch him.
Xiao Xingchen’s arms tightened around him.
‘Of course.’
Xingchen’s nose was pressed against Xue Yang’s cheek. It didn’t take much manoeuvring to kiss him. Xingchen hummed into his mouth, holding him close. They stayed like that for a long moment, before Xiao Xingchen gently pulled away.
‘I can heal you now, if you’d like?’ Xue Yang hesitated. Xiao Xingchen clearly felt it, because he continued. ‘I’ll be careful - I won’t touch you any more than I need to.’ Xue Yang nodded against Xingchen’s cheek. It was a risky decision, but…
Xiao Xingchen’s spiritual energy was surprisingly warm for someone with ice powers. The pain didn’t go away - there was no amount of spiritual energy that could fix his hand that easily, if at all - but it became far less immediate. Xue Yang let out a breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding. Xiao Xingchen looked serious.
‘If your hand- if you hurt yourself again, let me know?’
‘...okay, Daozhang.’
Everything had been going so well. In the months since the mishap in the woodshed and their little chat in the valley, Xue Yang’s definition of ‘going well’ had expanded to mean gentle kisses stolen in quiet moments, and Xiao Xingchen’s blush at the thought of being discovered.
Of course it couldn’t last.
‘Xue Yang.’
Of course he’d come. Song Lan stood, facing him, his sword already out.
Xue Yang shifted, pulling out Jiangzai.
‘Here for a meal, Song-Daozhang?’ He crowed, as he dodged Song Lan’s strike.
Damn, but Song Lan was a superb fighter.
He happily crowed his taunts at Song Lan - the corrupting night hunts, the source of Song Lan’s eyes, how Song Lan had abandoned poor Xiao Xingchen out in the world on his own. He didn’t mention his thing with Xiao Xingchen in his taunts. That wasn’t for Song Lan. And anyway, what he’d said was enough. Song Lan looked sufficiently devastated.
Xue Yang angled Jiangzai at Song Lan’s mouth, angling for his tongue. But - a blast of ice shot at Xue Yang, barely missing him, sending a vicious slash of sharp icy points protruding out of the ground behind him. It shifted Xue Yang’s focus. He missed Song Lan’s mouth, only gouging a shallow cut up across the corner of his mouth. What the fuck? Where had the ice come from? Was Xiao Xingchen here - had he heard ? Song Lan’s power was touch telepathy. He knew that. It had to be that. Unless-
Song Lan staggered back, spitting out a small amount of blood.
‘Damn you!’
‘Song-Daozhang! I was about to cut your tongue out! Surely you can think of stronger swear words than that for a situation like this!’
Xue Yang reached into his sleeves for his pouch of corpse powder with his spare hands. He made to scatter it, but all that came out were a few large clumps.
‘What the fuck...?’ Oh, no. That day by the river, the pouch that had fallen in the water, that he’d promptly forgotten about – it was his corpse powder. Shit. He’d gotten so caught up playing happy families that he’d forgotten about the cardinal rule of living as he did: ensuring his weapons were maintained.
Song Lan took advantage of his mistake, and pressed Fuxue against Xue Yang’s neck.
‘Any final words before I slit your vile throat?’
Xue Yang just smiled, closed his eyes, and tilted his chin up. He pretended he was back in the woodshed, kissing Xiao Xingchen.
‘Zichen?’
His imagination didn’t usually sound that real. And he’d never imagined Xiao Xingchen saying that in his fantasies. His eyes shot back open, in more panic than he had been at the thought of his death.
There Xiao Xingchen stood, his hand clenched on Shuanghua. His robes rustled in the - ha - gentle breeze, a verdant leaf catching on his shoulder for just a second. It was like he existed in a world separate to the sweaty, bloody mess that Xue Yang and Song Lan were in.
He tried to speak, but when he opened his mouth Song Lan pressed the blade of Fuxue harder into his throat.
‘Zichen, can you lower your sword, please?’
‘Xingchen- you- you don’t understand, he’s-’ Song Lan sounded furious, and confused, and heartbroken.
‘He’s Xue Yang, yes, I know.’
The rest of the world died away. Xue Yang was conscious of a dull roaring in his ears. He felt faint. He wondered if Song Lan had already slit his throat, and this was a punishment from his dying mind.
‘No. No, you can’t know, what the fuck do you mean you know?’ This has to be a fucking nightmare. Xue Yang felt as lost as he had when he’d first woken up in Xiao Xingchen’s care. ‘ How? How do you know?’
Xiao Xingchen seemed to pause, struggling to find words. Xue Yang tensed as he watched him slowly step closer, until Xiao Xingchen was barely inches from him. Xue Yang was shaking. He could barely keep his grip on Jiangzai.
As Xiao Xingchen raised a hand to gently cup Xue Yang’s face, he spoke with a calm, matter of fact air.
‘I’ve known who you were from almost the very beginning.’ Xue Yang’s hand jerked, and he fully lost his grip on Jiangzai, his sword clattering to the dirt. ‘You had mine and Zichen’s powers confused, I’m afraid. I’d apologise for lying to you, but… well,’ he smiled, and Xue Yang felt sick, ‘you did try and lie to me too.’