Unspoken

by Feng_Huli

Summary:

No one can see Jin Yan.

I don’t know why I went to Jin Xian first. Maybe I thought his practice of Buddhism would make his sight more keen to the unseen. Maybe I wanted the chance to look at him without him seeing me, to appreciate his beauty closer than I ever could before. Or maybe I just wanted things to feel normal.

Jin Xian’s eyes were closed. His prayer beads clicked as he counted them. He seemed peaceful, even relaxed. If not for that, it would be just like any other time he ignored me.

Incense was burning, but I couldn’t smell it. I got closer, but it didn’t sting my eyes. It passed through me, like I was nothing.

Maybe I was.

 

I went to the Director next. His martial arts were greater than almost anyone’s in the world, his awareness skills unmatched. I wasn’t even trying to hide, so surely he’d be able to sense me!

Jin Xuan was frowning thoughtfully as I approached, but he didn’t say anything. His eyes said enough, though. Concern shone in them, and I knew he saw me—I knew he cared. 

I smiled. Even if he couldn’t figure out how to get my body back, I could still be useful to him. I could spy on his enemies and his allies, finding out whatever he needs to know. 

Information was power, if Baixiao Hall was anything to go off. I wouldn’t even have the limitations of Baixiao Hall—I could find out anything, without costing him anything. Anything further.

I stepped forward. “Director, I—” 

There was a deep cough behind me. “Bixia!” Jin Xuan gasped, walking through me. “Should I send for the Divine Healer?”

“It was only a nightmare, but seeing you has set my heart at ease.” The emperor’s voice was rough but warm. “Come, join me. You need rest too.”

Jin Xuan obeyed, though I doubted he’d be getting any sleep.

Well, at least I’d be able to watch.

He took off his hat and his shoes, but that was the extent of it before he lay down, resting his cheek against the Emperor’s shoulder. “What did His Majesty dream of?”

Were they really just going to cuddle and talk about dreams instead of making passionate love? What was even the point of sticking around? I turned away with a hmpf .

“Jin Yan,” the Emperor spoke, and immediately I froze with shock and burned with hope.

“Why would you dream of him?” Oh .

“I don’t know, but he was at the execution ground. Ruofeng wasn’t there, no one was. It was just me and Jin Yan, alone. I couldn’t help him, and he couldn’t help me.”

“Why did you need help?”

“I wanted to stop him. Instead of the Heart Sword, it was the Abyssal Eye. He picked it up, and the nightmare ended.”

Jin Xuan sighed lightly. “You still miss him, don’t you?”

I rushed forward. “Don’t talk about me like I’m dead! I’m right here!” I shouted at them. “I bet my body’s still warm!” 

The Emperor blinked, letting a few heavy tears roll down his face. “It’s been two years, but sometimes it still feels like he’s there. Laughing, smiling, causing trouble.”

I backed away slowly. “Two years? What are you talking about?”

“Lately, there’s been an orange cat that will climb onto my desk and knock things over,” he continued with a sad smile. “I like to imagine that it’s him.”

Jin Xuan smiled too, his eyes glistening. “I’ve run into that cat as well. Perhaps it is.”

No matter how much I screamed, my voice didn’t grow tired. My heart did.

 

Jin Yu was smart. If anyone could figure my situation out, it would be him. If not, there were thousands of books in the Imperial Library that might contain a passage that pertained to it. All I needed was a little luck in having the right page open. Well, maybe a lot of luck.

When I walked inside, Jin Yu’s eyebrow curled with concern. Maybe he’d been hiding the ability to see ghosts. His mind always seemed to be somewhere else, so maybe it was in the realm of the undead.

Even if he could see me, though, he refused to interact with me. No matter what I said or what I did, it was met with silence. Boring silence.

Jin Yu hadn’t liked me in life; why would death be any different?

But the way he would leave books and scrolls open for me to read… was he trying to help me?

Most of the books were about philosophy, poetry, and history. A few were about music and martial arts. Occasionally, there would be something like embroidery patterns.

Nothing that wove into what I wanted to know. What I needed to know.

But I kept reading.

If I read everything, if I knew everything, would they finally be able to see me?

But Jin Yu didn’t see me. Sometimes it felt like he did, but then I’d watch him interact with Bai Wang, or Jin Xian, or Yan Zhantian, and I’d know that I was nothing in his eyes.

 

I don’t know what I expected Jin Wei to do for me. Whenever he wasn’t managing palace security, he was practicing his swordsmanship, tending his garden, or playing his flute. He wouldn’t know anything about ghosts, and definitely not how to help one like me .

But I watched him, and I listened.

His flute playing used to be terrible , years ago when he first started. I’d been spared the worst of it, always being with Shifu. But Jin Xuan, Jin Xian, and even Jin Yu had almost lost their patience with him. If not for Grand Eunuch Zhuo Qing telling them that it would be a necessary skill for him to have if he were to inherit the Abyssal Eye, Jin Wei probably would have been smothered by a pillow in his sleep.

The way he could play now, I’d never be able to imagine anyone wanting to suffocate him. The gentle notes carried a mournful air, sad yet soothing. Less dense than Jin Xian’s incense, but able to touch my heart closer even than Jin Xuan stepping through me.

I almost felt real again.

But Jin Wei’s song couldn’t last forever. He set down his flute with a frown, picking up his sword instead.

The Abyssal Eye, a sword too evil for the Top Ten Swords.

I’d never really understood that. If it was powerful enough that it could be there, why leave it out? That would be like claiming Zhuo Qing wasn’t part of the Five Eunuchs just because he was also considered one of the Four Great Evils. A eunuch is a eunuch and a sword is a sword. Yan Zhantian was one of them—the Four Great Evils, that is—but his sword was apparently not-evil enough to count. 

As Jin Wei ran through his forms, talismans began falling from the blade. The screams of the spirits trapped within it were quiet at first. Melancholy and sinister, but quiet. They grew louder with every empty-aired slice.

I trembled.

I’d heard them before, but this was different. This time, the wails cut through me, more solid than stone and colder than ice. Worse than the touch of death itself, which some part of me remembered.

I needed it to end.

I couldn’t move.

The spirits clawed out of the blade, shrouding me with shadow and despair. So loud I could hear nothing but my dead heartbeat. I cried out, but my voice was dead too.

It didn’t matter—no one would hear me anyway.

Skeletal claws tore through my formless form, marking me. Claiming me.

I wasn’t different from them. They could see me. They knew me.

I wasn’t alone.

I closed my eyes, letting the screams become a song. 

Something beautiful tore away that wretched melody, embracing me instead. The Song of Clarity , I remembered, that Jin Wei composed after Zhuo Qing’s funeral. The other eunuchs hadn’t exactly been fond of their shifu or their memories of Jin Wei’s flute-playing skills, so he didn’t ask them to be his audience. Instead, he’d asked me. I accepted.

It had been a full moon, and Jin Wei had brought out his best wine. A simple, strong flavor, with a sweet aftertaste. He didn’t say much, but his flute spoke for him. The love, the grief in those notes… If I wasn’t so busy enjoying the wine, I’d probably have shed a few tears.

Jin Wei shed more than a few, until his throat constricted too much to continue playing. I wanted to hug him, but he wouldn’t let me, so I just told him that it was a pretty song and that his shifu probably would’ve liked it. Then I thanked him for the wine and went on my way.

If I’d stayed, would things have been different?

As Jin Wei’s song drew to a close, the last of the sword spirits returned to the steel to which they were bound. All except one, which refused to be sealed under the returning talismans. It watched me from a distance, red eyes glowing like the embers of a burnt carcass.

I needed to go to the one place it couldn’t enter. A place I’d never wanted to go. The one place I knew I wouldn’t have to stay once I found out I was dead.

 

The Imperial Mausoleum was thought to be impossible to enter or leave without permission, but Grand Eunuch Zhuo Qing and I both had the ability to sneak in and out with ease. If I could do it in life, then doing it in death would be a breeze.

No, why can’t I…

The dead could not enter, the dead could not leave.

There was a barrier between my shifu and I, but if anyone could figure out how to cross it, it would be me.

The tricks I tried were subtle at first—walking backwards, following the path of a bird, looking for the weakest point of the formation—but the burning eyes of that shadow were watching. Getting closer and closer.

By the time I could feel its breathless breath on my neck, my attempts had devolved into slamming myself into the seemingly celestial wall separating me from Shifu.

I just wanted to see him. Why couldn’t I see him?

Skeletal arms held me, pushing me against the barrier.

It had been so long since I’d been held.

I closed my eyes, letting the shadow consume me. Smiling as I felt the barrier begin to weaken. Was this how I would see Shifu?

But then I remembered.

A spear through Shifu’s heart, a palm through mine. A gentle apology, then nothing.

There was no bridge for me to cross—with my last word, I had cursed those who had ignored me, rejected me, and I wasn’t ready to leave them like they left me. I may be dead, but the name Jin Yan would live in their hearts. They would never forget my words, they would never forget my face.

I had died doing something for me, for them—for us —but they hadn’t appreciated my sacrifice. They would now, no matter how long I needed to haunt them.

Yes, I’d remembered my purpose—I just needed to break free.

But the shadow absorbed my strength, my will. Holding me closer, until we were almost one. Did I even want to leave?

“I can see you,” a familiar voice spoke gently. “Jin Yan.”

I opened my eyes, finding the State Preceptor approaching with a smile. His white horsetail whisk almost seemed to glow as he lowered it to my level.

“What am I supposed to do with that?” I asked.

Qi Tianchen stroked his beard. “That would be for you to decide, would it not?”

Hesitantly, I pulled away from the shadow, brushing my cheek against the bright horsehair. So warm, so soft. It almost didn’t feel real. 

I needed more.

I reached for the State Preceptor’s hand, but my fingers passed through his without resistance. “You’re not dead?”

The old man chuckled. “Not yet.”

“Then why…” I trailed off, feeling a little lost.

“Would you like to join me for tea?”

I looked back at the shadow. “I won’t be able to drink it, right?”

“Is that what matters to you?”

“I don’t know,” I said, but I stood anyway, holding onto the whisk as though it was the only thing tethering me to this moment. Maybe it was.

Qi Tianchen gave me a gentle smile. “Are you ready?”

The shadow was still… somewhere , but I couldn’t see it anymore. The mausoleum’s entrance loomed behind us, waiting for the day when the other eunuchs would come to appease its hunger for another generation. It might have tasted me in my attempt at changing that, but dying didn’t mean I wouldn’t stop it from devouring them.  

I smiled back, a ghost of a tear running down my face. “I think so.” 

Notes:

Thanks for reading 💜

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 3 of Small Fandom Summer '25