My Enemy, My Husband

by MelMorganne99

Summary:

The prime minister broke the royal seal on the scroll and unrolled it. Clearing his throat, he loudly announced King Xiang’s decree to the whole court. “In order to strengthen the new peace treaty with the yao realm, a marriage shall be celebrated between our two realms. Zhuo Yichen shall be given as a bride to the great yao, Zhu Yan.”

With no choice but to obey, Zhuo Yichen pressed his forehead to the cold, hard floor. “This . . . this . . . .” The words stuck in his throat. He forced them out. “This humble subject receives his majesty’s edict.”

AU rewrite based on a sudden thought I had in the middle of the night - but what if they were married?!?

Chapter 1: The Great Yao's Bride

Zhuo Yichen was practicing his sword forms when the summons came. A servant stepped into the inner courtyard of the living quarters in the back half of the complex which formed the Demon Hunting Bureau and bowed, holding a small scroll in his outstretched hands.

“Zhuo da-ren. A courtier from the palace just delivered this message and is waiting to escort you.”

Zhuo Yichen sheathed his Yunguang sword and wiped the sweat from his brow; he had been practicing for several hours but had only managed to briefly extend the flow of his qi through the blade of the sword a handful of times. As always, the session had been more disappointing than successful. He refused to give up, however. One day he would master the the Bing Yi sword technique which had been passed down in his family for generation after generation. One day he would wield the sword to its full potential and make his older brother proud.

He accepted the scroll and unfurled it, reading the short missive which summoned him to attend the morning court session with due haste. He frowned at the strange summons but immediately hurried off to his rooms to change into his formal robes and guan. He followed the courtier to the palace complex, wondering uneasily the whole way what this was about. It was extremely unusual for him to have to appear at court. He entered the formal reception hall where all the court ministers, generals and officials were already gathered.

Fan Ying was there as well, repeatedly adjusting the heavy folds of his robes, a worried frown on his face. He greeted Zhuo Yichen, but was unable to provide any additional context as to why his presence had been specifically requested. “I heard the Prime Minister has been sequestered for a week. Rumours are floating around that he’s been negotiating with a representative from the yao realm.”

Zhuo Yichen’s hand reflexively tightened around the sheath of an invisible sword. Eyes narrowed, jaw clenched, he squeezed his fingers into a fist, the knuckles cracking loudly. He knew the prime minister was pushing to sign a peace treaty between the two realms in an attempt to put a stop to the heightened tension between humans and yao. In the past few years the tension had increased significantly, evident by the rising number of unusual murders in Tiandu and the surrounding villages. If Zhuo Yichen had his way, he would close off the yao realm completely and forbid any yao from ever entering the human realm. He was determined to rid of Tiandu of every last one and send them back to the wasteland from which they came.

Fan Ying recognized that he had hit a sensitive point and refrained from saying anything further. Zhuo Yichen let his eyes scan the grand hall, taking in the small groups and factions of the gathered attendees whispering amongst each other. Although the hall was vast in size, Zhuo Yichen felt stifled. The susurrant whispers grated in his ears, the cloying smell of the candles filled his nose, and the gilded opulence assaulted his eyes.

His attention caught on something half-hidden by one of the pillars lining the length of the hall - part of an umbrella was visible, the rest of the mysterious figure shrouded in shadows. As he looked closer, the shadows seemed to shift and he suddenly had the eerie feeling of being watched.

At that moment, a palace eunuch appeared at the front of the hall and loudly announced the arrival of King Xiang. Zhuo Yichen took his place and bowed along with everyone else.

After the formalities, the king handed a scroll to the eunuch who delivered it to the prime minister. The prime minister bowed, broke the royal seal on the scroll and unrolled it. Clearing his throat, he loudly announced the king’s edict to the whole court. “In order to seal the new peace treaty with the yao realm, a marriage shall be celebrated between our two realms. Zhuo Yichen shall be given as a bride to the great yao, Zhu Yan.”

Dumbstruck, Zhuo Yichen just stood there, mouth gaping open in shock. For a brief second, which felt like half an eternity, he lost all capacity to think or feel. Everything was black, like he was falling through a lightless void. He was finally brought back to reality by Fan Ying tugging sharply on his sleeve.

With no choice but to obey, he stepped into the centre of the hall and knelt down to press his forehead to the cold, hard floor. “This . . . this . . . .” The words stuck in his throat. He forced them out. “This humble subject receives his majesty’s edict.”

“I was hoping you’d say yes,” a silky smooth voice whispered in his ear. Two hands reached out and took Zhuo Yichen’s, pulling him to his feet.

Zhuo Yichen idly noticed the soft, warm touch of the hands, the perfectly manufactured nails, and the exquisite silver-thread embroidering at the sleeves of the heavy silk robes. His eyes travelled along the arms, up to a breathtakingly handsome face.

Dark, deep set eyes stared at him with an unreadable expression. Red lips quirked into a smile. “Hi.”

Zhuo Yichen’s brain finally put the pieces together. His eyes narrowed, mouth in a thin, angry line. He jerked his hands back and glared at the man - at the yao - in front him.

“Zhu Yan,” he hissed under his breath.

The yao’s smile widened. “Call me Zhao Yuanzhou.” He turned towards the king and lightly inclined his head. “If your majesty will excuse us, we have a wedding to prepare.”

Ignoring court etiquette, he turned around, back facing the king, and walked out of the hall. His firm grip on Zhuo Yichen’s elbow pulled the young man stumbling over his feet after him. Fan Ying darted forward to bow and beg an apology over the mutters of outrage sweeping through the assembled ministers. King Xiang waved him away graciously and Fan Ying retreated backwards out of the hall.

Outside he found Zhao Yuanzhou standing alone at the top of the wide staircase leading up to the grand hall with an amused smile on his face. Marching stiff-backed across the palace courtyard below was Zhuo Yichen.

“My apologies, great yao,” Fan Ying said respectfully. “This is all so sudden. I’m afraid it caught Zhuo da-ren by surprise.”

Zhao Yuanzhou turned to him, dark eyes glinting red. “I will come pick up my bride in two days’ time.”

To say Zhuo Yichen was furious was an understatement. Barely had he returned to the Demon Hunting Bureau, than he unsheathed his sword, wildly swinging and slashing at everything in his way as he stomped through the courtyards and hall of the complex. Deep notches appeared in doorposts, ceramic jugs shattered to the ground, tree branches were sliced off. The servants of the bureau scattered in terror, some screaming that a yao had possessed their young master. That single word, ringing loudly in the air, echoing in the empty spaces, enraged Zhuo Yichen even more. He pitched the Yunguang sword across the inner courtyard and punched the trunk of the stately tree growing in the middle. Over and over he slammed his fists against the hard, rough bark, until his knuckles were torn and bloody and he sank down on the ground with a soundless howl.

Night fell and still he lay there. Unlike the last time he had stayed out all night, alone and inconsolable, there was no snow on the ground this time. But, he thought bitterly, the same person was responsible. Did he know? he asked himself. Those eyes hadn’t seemed cruel. In fact, for a single moment before his world had come crashing down, he had thought that he would very much like to keep staring into their unfathomable depths.

Light footsteps approached, accompanied by the smell of candle wax and ink. Zhuo Yichen felt a cloak thrown over his body. He pretended not to notice, just continued to lie there with his eyes closed. Wen Xiao didn’t say anything; she just sat down on a large stone beside the tree. Zhuo Yichen heard the rustle of papers as she began reading from one of the many small files she always carried in her sleeves.

Several hours passed, Wen Xiao continuing to silently keep Zhuo Yichen company. When the night watchmen signalled the beginning of the first night watch, Zhuo Yichen finally stirred. Not because he had calmed down - fury still raged within him - but because he felt bad for Wen Xiao. Her poor constitution was ill-suited to spending a night outside in the chilly air.

He walked her to her rooms, not saying a word. Wen Xiao paused, once, before stepping over the threshold to her bedroom. She looked at him, opened her mouth, but no words came. Zhuo Yichen forced a sad, tremulous smile onto his face. He knew she meant well, knew she was trying to find the right words of comfort. But this time there was nothing she could say. It was the king’s own edict which was forcing Zhuo Yichen to marry the man he had sworn to kill to avenge the death of his father and brother.

Zhuo Yichen didn’t sleep that night. He was still awake and dressed, staring sightlessly around his room, arms wrapped tightly around his sword, when a knock came at the door of his rooms.

“Zhuo da-ren. The gifts are arriving.”

Confused, Zhuo Yichen walked to the door and opened it. A servant bowed, keeping his eyes trained on the floor.

“What gifts?”

“The . . . the . . . br-bridal gifts, da-ren,” the servant stammered in response.

Zhuo Yichen flinched, the hand on the sheath of his sword tensed. He brushed rudely past the servant, storming through the corridors of the bureau until he reached the meeting hall. Two rows of wooden chests, painted bright red, were lined up neatly on the floor with more coming in. He was about to bark a command when Fan Ying and Situ Ming rushed in, their hands held up placatingly.

“Zhuo da-ren,” Fan Ying said pleadingly. “It would be a great insult to refuse the bridal gifts.”

“Good,” he growled. “I want to insult him.”

“The marriage has already been decided, and the date set for tomorrow. Sending gifts now is a courtesy gesture, one I did not expect to see from a yao. He is making an effort to follow our customs.”

Zhuo Yichen was not in the mood to listen to any positive interpretations of what was happening. He whirled around and left the room, calling over his shoulder. “Dispose of the gifts as you see fit, Fan da-ren. I do not want any of them!”

The rest of the day and night were spent pacing back and forth in the garden at the back of the bureau. Zhuo Yichen contemplated everything from running away to drawing his sword across his own throat in an attempt to avoid the morrow’s marriage. But in doing so he would not only bring shame to himself and to his family’s name, but also to the Demon Hunting Bureau which he had worked so hard to build up again.

He had been so, so close to achieving his goal. He had worked hard to create a small, but loyal team around him which believed in the Demon Hunting Bureau’s mission. Not too long ago, he had finally petitioned the court to grant the new bureau official status as an administrative entity of the government. That recognition, in memory of his father and brother, was all he sought.

He wasn’t capable of throwing all of that away, Zhuo Yichen realized. He would sacrifice his own happiness and self-worth to go through with this marriage. There were people who depended on him, who still needed him. The entire kingdom depended on him and the peace treaty sealed by his marriage.

Wen Xiao found him in the garden in the early dawn. She was dressed in one of her best robes, hair done up artfully. She withdrew a small glazed vial from her sleeve and handed it to him. “Consider it my wedding gift,” she said simply.

Zhuo Yichen unstoppered the vial and peered in. A fine white powder lay within. He gave her a questioning look.

“Huanling powder. My latest recipe. It will probably not have a very big effect on a great yao, but if he inhales or ingests it, or if it gets in his bloodstream, he should fall unconscious momentarily.”

Neither of them made a comment about the unusualness of a knockout drug as a wedding gift. It was an unusual wedding, unusual circumstances. Zhuo Yichen accepted the vial with a gracious nod. Maybe he would try and slip some into the wedding wine. He had still not completely resigned himself to the thought of being married to a yao, but after two nights with little to no sleep, his body was running mostly on autopilot. He would go through the ceremony, uphold the terms of the peace treaty, and then . . . .

Then, was a problem for a later. Now, Zhuo Yichen found himself hustled back to his chambers to a waiting bath by several servants who carefully washed him down with scented water. Only when they tried to comb his hair did he resist.

“No,” he said, raising a hand to block the servants’ movements about his head. “I will do it myself.”

The servants bowed and withdrew. One of them brought forward a red lacquered box and raised the lid. “This was amongst the bridal gifts, da-ren. Perhaps you would like to wear it?”

Nestled on a cushion inside the box was a small black leather guan, tooled with exquisite gold detailing. An elegantly carved gold hairpin lay beside it, to fasten it securely around a neat top bun. Several inset gems gleamed in both the guan and the hairpin. Zhuo Yichen caught his breath as his fingers traced around its edges. It was exactly the kind of style he preferred: ostentatious, but not gaudy. It was beautiful.

“It came with the bridal gifts?” he asked the servant. At the nodded yes, he closed the lid of the box and shoved it back. “I won’t be wearing it. Take it away.”

He combed out his hair and then tied it back with the plain gold headband he had once received from his older brother instead. “Forgive me, ge,” he whispered, eyes closed, as he tied several strands of tiny tinkling bells into his hair.

Revulsion rose in his throat as he stood up and let the servants help him dress. Layer upon layer of the finest red silks was draped and tied around him. The colour of luck and good fortune. The colour of blood. The outermost layer was heavily embroidered with golden filagree; more gems sparkled along the collar and the edges of the sleeve. On any other day, Zhuo Yichen would have appreciated the elegant beauty of the robes.

The final piece was the veil. Draped over his head to completely cover his face, it reached halfway down his chest. Zhuo Yichen swallowed, fighting back tears. Beneath the cover of the veil he allowed his mask to slip and showed his true emotions. Anger, despair and hopelessness warred across his face. He took a deep breath to steady himself, clenching the fabric of his robes tightly in his hands as they began to tremble. He missed the comforting weight of his sword in his hand; he felt naked and helpless without it.

A knock came on the door.

“Zhuo da-ren.” Situ Ming’s voice came muffled to Zhuo Yichen’s ears through the door and the heavy fabric of the veil. “The groom has arrived at the front gate, asking for his bride.”

Another deep breath and Zhuo Yichen nodded at the servants who opened the door of his chambers. He walked slowly, stiffly, almost stumbling over his doorstep. The walk across the complex seemed to take an age, and yet in an instant he found himself in front of the barred front gate. Fan Ying and Wen Xiao were already there.

A voice called again from the outside, ringing clear and firm. “This humble bridegroom begs the Demon Hunting Bureau to deliver him his bride.”

Wen Xiao leaned closer to Zhuo Yichen. “If you truly do not wish to go through with this, say the word. I have my dagger and I’m not afraid to use it.”

Her words almost drew a smile to Zhuo Yichen’s lips. Wen Xiao’s precociousness and fierce loyalty heartened him. He shook his head slightly, drawing more strength from the light tinkle of the bells.

From outside, Zhao Yuanzhou called again. Despite the long wait, his voice remained calm and patient. For a yao, his manners were faultless. Zhuo Yichen squared his shoulders and turned his head towards Fan Ying who motioned for the large wooden doors to be opened. They creaked loudly as they turned on their hinges, slowly revealing Zhuo Yichen’s nightmare.

A yao stood just outside the gate in the streets. He was alone, hands clasped together as he waited patiently. He was dressed in richly embroidered red robes with floral and crane motifs, the gold thread glimmering in the sunlight. On his head he wore an ornate golden crown which wound from his ears to the back of his head and rose up above his hair. Long beaded strands fell from the pointed edges of the crown down his back.

He was beautiful, Zhuo Yichen thought for a second, before all the rage and hatred came back to the forefront. He scowled beneath the veil, unseen by all. The scowl turned into a fierce glare as Zhao Yuanzhou smiled at him. First it had been just a surprised twitch of his lips when the doors opened, as if he himself hadn't believed that Zhuo Yichen would come. Then it transitioned into a full, radiant smile as his eyes looked upon his new bride from head to toe.

“Zhuo Yichen,” he said in a warm, rumbling voice. He extended his hand in a wordless gesture.

The moment stretched between them as Zhuo Yichen hesitated. He could still turn and run away, a part of his mind whispered. Or snatch Wen Xiao’s dagger from her sleeve and throw it plunging into Zhao Yuanzhou’s chest. He imagined both options, running the scenarios through his head. Then imagined the consequences - the chaos and confusion, the disgrace and shame. No, he would never be able to do it.

Tentatively, he took a step forward, the muscles in his legs quivering with the tension. He forced himself to take another step, and another, until he was standing in front of Zhao Yuanzhou.

The yao’s expression was one of delight and eagerness. He took a small step which brought him closer to Zhuo Yichen. His hand was still extended in invitation, sincere and open. “Zhuo Yichen,” he repeated. Then added, in a voice too low for anybody else to hear, “The robes suit you well. You look as beautiful in them as I thought you would.”

Zhuo Yichen flinched. The two sets of robes were very well-matched; they would no doubt make a fine couple for anybody watching. But Zhuo Yichen hated the fact that he was wearing something that had been chosen for him by a yao. He had thought that maybe Fan Ying or Wen Xiao had procured the robes. That Zhao Yuanzhou had not only picked them, but had also pictured him wearing them . . . . Well, Zhuo Yichen may look like a bride, but he was determined to be anything but.

When he refused to take Zhao Yuanzhou’s hand, Zhao Yuanzhou simply reached down and took it in his own. Hand in hand, he led Zhuo Yichen to a waiting sedan chair. It was bedecked with finely woven curtains of red and gold, decorated with tassels and beading. Zhuo Yichen hated the sight of it. Nevertheless he got in, as Zhao Yuanzhou mounted a horse tacked up with a red leather saddle and harness inlaid with gold.

The procession began to move down the street, the entire Demon Hunting Bureau following after the bride and groom. Rumours of the wedding had spread like wildfire across Tiandu and many had come to watch the great yao receive his human bride. The significance of the event was not lost on the onlookers; there were few who did not wish for peace between the human and yao realms. From behind his veil, Zhuo Yichen couldn’t see much from the few glimpses of the crowds as the curtains shifted from the rocking motion of the sedan chair. But he heard their cheers and cries of well wishes. Heard the hope and happiness in their voices and wished he could feel the same. Instead, he felt like a person with a death sentence being led to their execution. The inside of the sedan chair suddenly felt claustrophobic.

The going was slow. To Zhuo Yichen’s surprise, they were heading towards the edge of the city where many of the older, established noble families had their vast estates. The procession finally halted in front of a large manor entrance, the barred gate revealing nothing of what lay within. Awkwardly managing the many layers his bridal robes, Zhuo Yichen stepped out of the sedan chair, refusing Zhao Yuanzhou’s hand of assistance. He looked up at the panel hung above the wooden gate. Peach Blossom Manor, the three engraved characters read.

Zhao Yuanzhou turned to Zhuo Yichen, breaking the silence between them. “Welcome to your new home.”

Biting back the words that this would never be his home, Zhuo Yichen stayed silent. Behind them, the accompanying members of the Demon Hunting Bureau gathered around them. The doors opened silently and they they all filed in. Somehow Zhao Yuanzhou’s hand had found Zhuo Yichen’s again and he led him across the front courtyard to the great hall. Great swaths of red cloth adorned both the exterior and interior of the hall; red paper lanterns hung from every pillar and beneath the edges of the hall’s roof.

An old daoist master stood at the front of the hall, ready to officiate over the ceremony. Belatedly, Zhuo Yichen realized that everyone in the wedding procession was from his side. Zhao Yuanzhou had come alone to the Demon Hunting Bureau to ask for him, and was now standing at his side with no one to accompany him. But then again, he was a yao. What did they know of family, of kin? Of binding ties and oaths sworn? This entire wedding ceremony was probably just a farce to him, a series of actions which held no meaning.

The old master waved them forward with his horsetail baton. “The auspicious hour has arrived,” he announced formally.

“One bow to heaven.” Side by side, facing forward, Zhuo Yichen and Zhao Yuanzhou bowed low. Tears pricked at the corner of Zhuo Yichen’s eyes.

“One bow to your ancestors.” They turned around and bowed again. Zhuo Yichen faced towards Fan Ying and Wen Xiao, whom he considered as close as family. A tear fell down his cheek, trailing across his face until they disappeared into the fabric of the veil.

“One bow to each other.” Slowly, Zhuo Yichen turned towards Zhao Yuanzhou, clasping his hands together in front of him and bowing. His limbs felt stiff, leaden. He closed his eyes to not have to look into Zhao Yuanzhou’s. At his husband’s. The only thing he felt was the heat of his tears as they streamed silently down his face, unseen beneath the veil.

It was done. He was married.

The wedding banquet afterwards passed in a blur. Zhuo Yichen ate little, the food tasting like ash in his mouth. He sat unmoving on his chair, staring sightlessly through the red haze in front of him. He refused to take off his veil, taking refuge behind it. Zhao Yuanzhou tried to coax him to eat more but he ignored him. Instead, he fingered the vial of Huanling powder in his sleeve; turning it over and over. A coil of dread began to slowly knot itself tighter and tighter in his gut as he thought about what would happen after the banquet. It would be just him and Zhao Yuanzhou then. Just him and the yao to whom he was now married.

After several hours of feasting and countless of toasts to the newlyweds later, the wedding guests began to file out of the great hall. Most were tottering unsteadily on their feet or leaning heavily against a friend. Zhuo Yichen stood up as Fan Ying and Situ Ming approached, Wen Xiao half a pace behind them.

“You are still the commander of the Demon Hunting Bureau,” Fan Ying told him. He glanced at Zhao Yuanzhou who hovered beside Zhuo Yichen, a neutral expression on his face. “That will never change, and you will always have a home waiting for you.”

Zhuo Yichen nodded, not trusting himself to speak without giving away that he had spent most of the last few hours crying. He nodded at Situ Ming who extended his warm wishes as well. When Wen Xiao stepped forward, he almost did cry out. But he kept quiet as she reached for his hands and squeezed them once, tightly.

“If you ever need anything, Xiao Zhuo, just send the word.”

Zhuo Yichen heard Zhao Yuanzhou repeat Xiao Zhuo under his breath. Then he stepped forward. “Thank you, Wen da-ren. Although I can assure you that I will see to it that my bride has everything he needs.”

Wen Xiao smiled in response, one eyebrow arching gracefully. “Including protection from a great yao such as yourself?”

Gasping in feigned outrage, Zhao Yuanzhou lay a hand across his heart as if wounded. “Protect him from me? What about the other way around? After all, Zhuo da-ren is a renowned yao hunter.”

“Mhm, that he is.” With a wicked glimmer in her eyes she reached into her sleeves and laid something into Zhuo Yichen’s hands. “Zhu Yan’s true form is a monkey, you know. You can use this to tame him.”

Zhao Yuanzhou remonstrated with Wen Xiao that he was actually a white ape, not a monkey, while Zhuo Yichen looked down uncomprehendingly at the object in his hand. Then he heard Zhao Yuanzhou’s scandalized gasp and long, slender fingers reached for the circlet of fine leather.

“A collar, Wen da-ren? I admit, I didn’t think your tastes were this . . . refined.”

Realization dawned in growing horror on Zhuo Yichen. He looked up to where Zhao Yuanzhou was holding the collar to his neck, the silver ring in front shining brightly.

“Wen Xiao!” he hissed in strangled outrage. He knew that his entire face was as bright red as the veil he wore.

Just when he didn’t think it could get any worse, Zhao Yuanzhou and Wen Xiao burst into twin peals of laughter. Wen Xiao reached for his hands again and squeezed them. “You’ll be alright, Xiao Zhuo,” she whispered before turning on her heel and following her foster father out of the hall.

With everyone now gone, Zhuo Yichen was alone with Zhao Yuanzhou. A quick glance showed that the collar had disappeared, probably somewhere in the sleeves of the yao’s robes; Zhuo Yichen fervently hoped he would never see it again. Awkward silence settled heavily between them. Zhuo Yichen swayed suddenly, as the lack of sleep and food made itself known. Immediately, Zhao Yuanzhou had his arm wrapped around his waist to steady him. Zhuo Yichen tried to move away but he was held fast in his firm grip.

“Come. You’re about to fall over,” Zhao Yuanzhou murmured at his side and led him away.

Lacking the strength to resist, Zhuo Yichen stumbled along. Zhao Yuanzhou led him out of the hall and across an inner courtyard, then along covered walkways until they reached a small suite of chambers. Pushing open the door, Zhao Yuanzhou helped him across the doorstep and led him to a small round table in the middle of the chamber. It was covered with a red tablecloth; a lacquered wooden tray containing a golden pitcher of wine and two small golden goblets lay in the centre of the table.

Zhao Yuanzhou sat down beside him. Feeling his gaze, Zhuo Yichen lowered his eyes to stare at the tablecloth.

“Are you ever going to remove the veil?” asked Zhao Yuanzhou a teasing smile flickering on his face. “I have been waiting all day to catch another glimpse of your lovely face.”

A bright red flush flamed across Zhuo Yichen’s cheeks in a mixture of anger and embarrassment. “Shameless,” he hissed.

Zhao Yuanzhou simply laughed. “Come now, Xiao Zhuo,” he teased. Only Wen Xiao called him by that nickname and Zhuo Yichen flushed again at the brazen familiarity. “We are married now, after all. Surely I’m allowed to . . . see you.”

Zhuo Yichen bit his lip, unable to come up with a clever retort. He wondered if there was something else that Zhao Yuanzhou had wanted to say. Despite his bad habit at intruding into Zhuo Yichen’s space and being overly familiar with him, he had treated him with a surprising amount of respect and grace so far. He lifted his trembling hands to the edge of the fabric.

Across from him, Zhao Yuanzhou leaned forward slightly, arms resting on the table as he looked intently at Zhuo Yichen. Slowly, eyes closed, Zhuo Yichen withdrew the veil, letting the gauzy fabric flutter to the ground. He felt exposed, vulnerable. Fingers lightly brushed against his cheek and he snapped his eyes open. The touch felt so wrong, so right.

“Do not. Ever. Touch me.” he forced out between gritted teeth, staring daggers at Zhao Yuanzhou. He was determined to set his boundaries early and this arranged marriage of convenience did not require any sort of intimacy.

The yao sat back, eyes wide in surprise at the vehemence in Zhuo Yichen’s tone. The teasing tilt of his lips and the amused glint in his eyes disappeared as an expressionless mask settled over his features. “As my bride wishes,” he replied coolly. He reached for the pitcher of wine and filled the two small goblets. Taking one, he slid the other towards Zhuo Yichen. “Shall we drink to our marriage then?”

Zhuo Yichen pushed the wine away, but not before its scent reached his nose. It was a good wine, expensive. “What marriage?” he asked, voice filled with bitterness. Now facing Zhao Yuanzhou openly, the rage he had been suppressing for the last two days was coming to the fore. “It’s an insurance policy. The price for peace. And I’m the one who’s forced to pay it.”

“Are you objecting to the marriage, or objecting to me?” Zhao Yuanzhou asked over the rim of his goblet. He drained it in one go and refilled it.

“Both. But definitely you.”

“Why?”

Zhuo Yichen stared at him. Was he just pretending? Cruelly forcing him to recall the trauma of what happened eight years ago? “Do you really not know?”

“Know what?” Zhao Yuanzhou knocked back another drink of the wine.

“Eight years ago. Kunlun Gate.”

Several emotions passed over Zhao Yuanzhou’s face. Zhuo Yichen watched the progression of his initial confusion to dawning realization. 

Zhao Yuanzhou’s face turned pale. “You . . . you can’t have been there. You would’ve been too young.”

“My father and brother weren’t.”

“Ah.” Zhao Yuanzhou sat back heavily in his chair. “I . . . I wondered why you had no family members to give you away today,” he murmured quietly.

Zhuo Yichen leapt up, furious. The thin tether on his emotions snapped. His chair fell to the ground with a loud crash and the wine pitcher tipped over from the hard bump to the table, spilling wine all over the table. In lieu of being able to unsheathe his sword and stab something, he picked up his goblet and threw it on the ground with the all the force he could muster, then stormed out of the room.

Zhao Yuanzhou rushed after him calling his name but Zhuo Yichen ignored him. As he pushed open the doors, he felt a hand grab the sleeves of his robes and pull him back. Instinctively, he reached for the vial in his sleeve, unstoppered it and threw the contents into Zhao Yuanzhou’s face. The powder billowed out in a white cloud and Zhao Yuanzhou coughed as he inhaled it, then sneezed wildly. His eyes widened, then fell shut. He collapsed like a stone onto the floor of the chamber.

Zhuo Yichen turned back to the door, finally managing to push it open. He broke into a run, rushing blindly across the grounds of the manor. His mad dash had caused him to completely lose his sense of orientation on the unfamiliar property. Unable to find a gate and escape completely, he picked a random chamber and ran inside. He closed the door and wedged it tightly shut with a bar so no one could get inside. In the darkness and silence of the room, he collapsed onto the hard, wooden floor. He squeezed himself into a tight ball, sobbing bitterly.

He must have fallen asleep at some point because he woke up to someone calling his name. Zhuo Yichen stretched, wincing as his cramped muscles protested. He was still on the floor of the random room in which he had hid himself last night. He had no idea what time it was, but daylight filtered in through the closed windows.

“Xiao Zhuo, Xiao Zhuo!” The banging on the barred door became louder.

At the sound of Zhao Yuanzhou’s voice, all the memories of the evening and day before came back to Zhuo Yichen. He sat up and drew his knees to his chest, hugging them tightly. He was still wearing his red bridal robes, now all rumpled and hung askew.

“I’m coming in,” Zhao Yuanzhou announced when Zhuo Yichen refused to respond.

Zhuo Yichen watched as red tendrils of yao power seeped through the door, wrapping themselves around the wooden bar. With a loud crack, the bar disappeared and the door flew open as Zhao Yuanzhou burst in. He came to a sudden halt when he saw Zhuo Yichen sitting on the floor, arms wrapped protectively around himself. Zhao Yuanzhou took a slow step forward, then another, finally sitting down beside Zhuo Yichen.

“I thought you had run off,” he spoke softly. It was not an accusing tone; rather Zhuo Yichen heard the unspoken sentiment that the yao was relieved he was still here.

“When was the last time you ate?” Zhao Yuanzhou continued. From his sleeves, he withdrew a small package. “Wen Xiao told me these are your favourite pastries.”

He lay the package on top of Zhuo Yichen’s drawn-up knees. Arranging his robes around himself, he settled into a comfortable cross-legged position and sat there silently.

When Zhuo Yichen finally raised his head to sneak a look at him, he saw that the yao had his eyes closed and was calmly meditating. He was no longer wearing his ornate red robes from the day before but was now dressed in the typical robes of a Tiandu nobleman.The grey streaks in his long hair were unusual, but they give him an aura of dignity. It was hard to tell his age, but he didn’t look much older than Zhuo Yichen who had just turned twenty-four. He really did have an annoyingly attractive face, Zhuo Yichen admitted to himself, then turned his head away angrily when he realized he had been staring.

Zhao Yuanzhou opened his eyes, a soft smile on his lips. But his eyes were serious, almost sad, when he spoke. “I apologize for my words last night . . . they were ill-considered.” He spoke very formally.

Zhuo Yichen glanced at him. It did not escape him that Zhao Yuanzhou only apologized for what he said, not what he had done. “Did you not know?” he asked, unable to hide the pain in his voice. He didn’t want to know the answer, but the question had haunted him ever since the announcement of the marriage.

A shake of his head. “I . . . I knew of you. I had heard of how they spoke of you in the streets - the brave and upright Zhuo da-ren, rigorous and stern but handsome, the role model of what a young lord should be like. That is why I did not object when your name was proposed as my bride. But I did not know that . . . that your father and older brother . . . .” His voice trailed off. He whispered, “That I killed them.”

There were many elements in those few sentences that would have to be unpacked later, but for now one particular piece caught Zhuo Yichen’s attention. “It wasn’t you who chose me?”

“I offered myself in marriage as a guarantee to the peace treaty. But it was one of the ministers in the court who suggested your name.”

“Who?”

Zhao Yuanzhou shrugged as he thought it about it for a second. “Wu Yan, perhaps?”

“General Wu Yan,” Zhuo Yichen breathed, sitting back. The package of pastries slipped from his knees and he grabbed it before it could spill onto the floor. Absentmindedly, he began eating. The pieces slotted together suddenly.

“What is it?”

“General Wu is the king’s appointee to oversee the Chongwu Camp.” Zhuo Yichen watched realization dawn on Zhao Yuanzhou’s face.

“The same Chongwu Camp which has been so insistent on opposing the peace treaty,” he murmured.

“And so would think that either I would refuse the order to marry you, or kill you in revenge . . . .”

“. . . resulting in the peace treaty breaking apart before it even started.”

They looked at other for a long moment, as if both were surprised by the level of mutual understanding they shared. Finally Zhao Yuanzhou smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Were you honestly thinking of killing me?”

“I would’ve killed myself first, before disobeying the king’s edict,” Zhu Yichen replied bluntly. He continued, “But I have sworn an oath of vengeance before my father and brother’s memorial tablets. This marriage . . . has simply postponed my revenge.”

Zhao Yuanzhou looked at him steadily. “Honest, upright and loyal indeed,” he replied quietly. Even quieter he added, “You may get your chance for revenge yet.” He shook his head, as if dispelling the somber mood that had fallen down on them. “How about a truce then, between us. For now.”

What an odd situation, Zhuo Yichen thought to himself as he pondered the yao’s proposal. Would his father and older brother approve of him working together with their killer against a common enemy? Would they understand him temporarily putting aside his desire for vengeance? Part of him, a large part, wanted to refuse. But a more rational side of him knew that if the Chongwu Camp was now actively opposing the Demon Hunting Bureau, he would need all the allies he could get. And an even smaller part of him whispered that maybe, just perhaps, this marriage wouldn’t be as terrible as he thought.

Finally he nodded once. “A truce,” he agreed.

Zhao Yuanzhou smiled. “A truce,” he repeated.

Chapter 2: Rumours and Assassinations

The truce was easier said than done. Zhuo Yichen felt uneasy in Peach Blossom Manor, unable to relax and constantly looking over his shoulder. The rooms he had woken up in that first morning he claimed as his own, obstinately refusing to step anywhere near Zhao Yuanzhou’s chambers. The yao respected his desire for privacy and distance, if very grudgingly and with a pout or two.

Most of Zhuo Yichen’s time was spent at the Demon Hunting Bureau, working from early morning until late at night. In fact, several times he stayed overnight, either falling asleep at his desk or just too tired to head back to Peach Blossom Manor. He really was busy, yet if he were truly honest with himself he would be forced to admit that he was also trying to avoid Zhao Yuanzhou.

Wen Xiao reprimanded him once, stating that rumours had begun flitting around Tiandu that perhaps he and his yao husband were not actually married. Zhuo Yichen ended that conversation abruptly. The less he had to do with Zhao Yuanzhou and Peach Blossom Manor, the better. In any case, Zhuo Yichen didn’t care much for what the residents of Tiandu were or weren’t whispering about him and Zhuo Yuanzhou.

He focused on his work, trying to get to the bottom of the Chongwu Camp’s ultimate goal. They had been notably subdued since the wedding, with no reported yao killings since. However, there had been an increase in strange sightings around the city. Odd figures were seen wandering around at night, some claimed they were just drunkards, others said they were yao, but every lead Zhuo Yichen sent his bureau members to investigate turned up nothing.

He was mapping out all the reports of mysterious sightings which seemed to congregate in the vicinity of the Chongwu Camp headquarters, when Fan Ying and Situ Ming came into the study.

“Zhuo da-ren.”

Zhuo Yichen set down his brush and smiled a friendly greeting. “What is it?”

Fan Ying cleared his throat awkwardly. “General Wu addressed the peace treaty during this morning’s court session.”

“He suggested the validity of the peace treaty rests on the marriage between you and Zhao Yuanzhou,” Situ Ming continued. “If the marriage is invalid, then so is the peace treaty.”

“And the Chongwu Camp insists that there are more yao coming into the human realm. More dangerous yao. They are worried that the recent strange sightings will escalate into something more deadly,” finished Fan Ying.

Zhuo Yichen had heard only half of their words. “How can the marriage be invalid? You both witnessed the ceremony.”

Fan Ying and Situ Ming exchanged a very awkward glance. Situ Ming coughed delicately. Fan Ying looked down at the floor.

“What is it?” Zhuo Yichen asked, an uncomfortable feeling coiling in his gut.

“A marriage can be considered invalid . . . if it hasn’t been . . . umm, consummated.”

Zhuo Yichen’s face first paled, then blushed furiously. “How dare they insinuate that, that . . . that we . . . .” That we haven’t yet shared a bed, his mind finished the thought truthfully.

“Of course we assured the court that you were truly married,” said Situ Ming tactfully, thankfully refraining from commenting whether he himself believed the rumours or not. “But there were many ministers who murmured that you two slept separately. That you had returned to the Demon Hunting Bureau and did not reside in Peach Blossom Manor.”

Zhuo Yichen’s mouth open and closed several times like a gaping fish but he had no response. How could he deny statements that were, ultimately, true? The same feeling of hopelessness he had felt the day of his wedding came crashing back down on him. He had thought that once the marriage ceremony was over, he could at least lead his life as he had before. That he could be married in name, but not in deed.

“Damn them all,” he muttered, the coarse words slipping from his tongue. He and the Demon Hunting Bureau had always been at odds with the Chongwu Camp on professional grounds, but he had never expected them to attack him so directly and personally.

He looked up at Fan Ying and Situ Ming who were regarding him with a mixture of pity and sympathy. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention,” he said, retreating behind formality to hide his emotions. They nodded and left the study, leaving him to stew alone in misery.

Despite understanding the precariousness of the situation, and the very real threat posed by the Chongwu Camp if they truly did expose the sham of his marriage, Zhuo Yichen found himself unable to do anything. He shied from the idea of talking to Zhao Yuanzhou. And so he retreated even further into himself and away from the yao, widening the already awkward distance between them.

It was Zhao Yuanzhou who finally took matters into his own hands. He showed up at the bureau one evening in a horse-drawn carriage. When the quivering guard relayed Zhuo Yichen’s order that entry was denied to him, Zhao Yuanzhou just smirked. He raised the index and middle finger of his right hand to his lips, then moved them apart to form a V and uttered one single syllable as his red yao power swirled around him.

“开.”

The locked front gate swung open and he strode in, personnel and servants fleeing at his approach. He made his way through the complex, finally finding Zhuo Yichen in his study, looking over a mess of scrolls and papers while his ink-stained fingers gripped a brush. Zhao Yuanzhou leaned casually against the doorway, quietly observing.

Finally, Zhuo Yichen huffed in annoyance and set down the brush on its holder. He looked up with an icy stare. “What happened to respecting boundaries?”

Zhao Yuanzhou shrugged. “Overruled. You’re not taking care of your health, so I’m allowed to step in and take care of you.”

“Since when was that a part of our agreement?”

“Since you stopped coming home to get a good night’s sleep.” His glance shifted pointedly to the uneaten bowls of food on the table. “And stopped eating your meals.”

Zhuo Yichen muttered something under his breath, annoyed that Zhao Yuanzhou was right. He glared at him when the yao approached, sitting down carelessly on a corner of the table and rifling through the documents.

“Stop that,” he griped, slapping away Zhao Yuanzhou’s grabby hands.

Zhao Yuanzhou slapped his wrists in response and filched one of the papers, turning away so Zhuo Yichen couldn’t reach him and began to read.

“What’s this?” he asked and proceeded to read aloud the title. “Summary of activities of the Chongwu Camp. I thought you were supposed to be hunting yao.”

“There’s a peace treaty in place,” Zhuo Yichen reminded him unnecessarily. “I’m currently concerned with whoever might be acting against it.”

Zhao Yuanzhou moved closer, crowding Zhuo Yichen to one side of his chair and sitting down on its edge. The move earned him a scowl, but Zhuo Yichen didn’t retaliate.

“You’ve mapped out all the recent yao sightings in Tiandu,” said Zhao Yuanzhou after studying a map laid out on the table for a moment.

“Alleged yao sightings,” replied Zhuo Yichen. He pointed at several spots. “These are probably true, but the yao neither harmed nor threatened anyone. These ones . . . I’ve sent my team to investigate further. The reports were odd, inconsistent.”

“And you think it’s connected with the Chongwu Camp?”

“I don’t know. But they seem to be behind everything else that has to do with undermining the peace treaty. And now the rumours as well.” He snapped his mouth shut abruptly and looked everywhere but at Zhao Yuanzhou. He was not about to broach that subject with him.

But of course Zhao Yuanzhou wouldn’t let the matter drop. “What rumours, Xiao Zhuo?” he asked in a low voice, uncomfortably close to Zhuo Yichen’s ear. His teasing voice suggested that he knew exactly what the rumours were about.

Zhuo Yichen jumped up and pushed the yao away, His ears burned as Zhao Yuanzhou’s teasing laughter rang out.

“Sitting here and brooding isn’t going to solve anything,” Zhao Yuanzhou said, getting up and stretching leisurely. “Come. I’m taking you home.”

Too weary and hungry to protest, Zhuo Yichen let Zhao Yuanzhou hustle him out of the bureau and into the waiting carriage. Inside, he shuffled into the corner of the bench as far away from the yao as he could. But sleep pulled at his eyes and the slight swaying of the carriage had him falling asleep in a matter of minutes. His head fell to the side, coming to rest on Zhao Yuanzhou’s shoulders who had closed the distance between them as soon as Zhuo Yichen’s eyes had fallen shut.

The yao woke him up with a gentle shake when they reached Peach Blossom Manor. Zhuo Yichen sat up, momentarily confused. He frowned when he saw Zhao Yuanzhou so close to him, then blushed as he realized why his short nap had been so comfortable.

“Don’t get any ideas,” he grumbled, reaching for his sword and holding it between them.

Zhao Yuanzhou held up his hands in innocence. “It seems to me that it was you, Xiao Zhuo, taking advantage of your husband,” he protested.

“Ridiculous,” hissed Zhuo Yichen. He stood up so fast he almost knocked his head against the top of the carriage. He clambered out and stalked angrily into the manor. He was more mad at himself for constantly losing his composure during each and every interaction with Zhao Yuanzhou, than he was mad at the yao’s antics.

Despite his exhaustion, sleep didn’t come easy for Zhuo Yichen as he lay in bed. He had always been afraid of nighttime - of the nightmares that sleep had brought when he was younger, and now of the feeling that there wasn’t enough time in a day to get all the work done which he needed to do. He tossed and turned, sometimes dozing off, but never truly falling asleep.

The clink of the roof tiles above his chambers roused him fully. He stared at the wooden ceiling rafters for a minute before rolling out of bed and grabing a simple robe to slip over his inner layer. On the rooftop, he sat down beside Zhao Yuanzhou. He looked at the yao and then tore his eyes away - Zhao Yuanzhou was only wearing a cloak thrown over his shoulders and a thin robe underneath which gaped open halfway down his chest. To distract himself, he grabbed the gourd flask which Zhao Yuanzhou held loosely in one hand.

“Wait, Xiao Zhuo, that’s not -” Zhao Yuanzhou winced as Zhuo Yichen spit out the mouthful he had poured into his mouth. “- wine.”

“What, what kind of poison is this?!?” Zhuo Yichen spluttered, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

“Jade ointment, with heartless grass.” Zhao Yuanzhou swiped the flask back and took a long drink. “It helps suppress malicious energy. Too bitter for Xiao Zhuo’s sweet tooth?”

“It’s vile,” Zhuo Yichen muttered. He wondered why Zhao Yuanzhou needed to suppress malicious energy but didn’t dare ask.

“What brings you up here anyway?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Perhaps I’m here to admire the moon.”

Eyebrow raised, Zhuo Yichen looked up at the cloud-covered sky and rolled his eyes.  He let the matter drop, since Zhao Yuanzhou clearly wasn’t about to give him an honest answer. He covered his mouth as he yawned. Oddly, he felt more comfortable here than he had previously in his bed.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Zhao Yuanzhou commented, taking another drink.

Zhuo Yichen swayed. “Obviously also to admire the moon,” he answered, eyes-half closed. He felt himself being pulled sideways and then his head was cushioned on something firm, but soft. Before he could think about it any further, he was asleep.

When he woke up, he was back in his own bed and a bowl of congee sat on his bedside table. Wisps of red circled around the bowl, disappearing when he picked it up. The congee was still warm, steaming slightly. Zhuo Yichen frowned at the blatant display of Zhao Yuanzhou’s yao power, but he still picked up the spoon and began to eat hungrily. Sometimes he could almost forget that his husband was a yao - he seemed surprisingly kind and attentive, with an unerring sense for what Zhuo Yichen needed. Other times the sight of those red tendrils being casually flaunted would tear through him and reopen every wound in its wake, making him ask himself whether this whole marriage was really worth it.

Once he finished eating, he quickly dressed and grabbed his Yunguang sword. The position of the sun in the sky told him that it was already mid-morning, much later than he usually woke up. For once, he felt refreshed and not bone-tired as he positioned himself into the first stance of his sword routine. The transition to the next stance came easily, smoothly, his body moving instinctively from long practice. As he always did, he reached inside for his inner core, feeling his qi swirling within. As he lunged forward, he tried to draw his qi through his meridians and into his sword. It flickered blue, gleaming brightly for a second, before it regained its usual silver metallic sheen.

Angrily, he whirled and slashed. He shifted his weight to his back foot, letting the swing of the sword move his body into the next position. The next strike of his sword was blocked suddenly and he found himself staring into the grinning face of Zhao Yuanzhou, eyes flashing a challenge. Zhuo Yichen snarled soundlessly, twisting his wrist and stabbing beneath the closed umbrella Zhao Yuanzhou was holding.

Zhao Yuanzhou easily blocked the stab, then swung the umbrella in a wide arc so that Zhuo Yichen had to retreat several steps. They exchanged several blows, parries and feints, finding themselves equally matched. Then Zhao Yuanzhou flew backwards, raising his fingers to his lips. His red yao power billowed out from his body, streaming towards Zhuo Yichen.

Zhuo Yichen raised his arms in a blocking motion, summoning his qi into a blue shield around him. The blast from Zhao Yuanzhou’s power forced him to move one foot backward, digging into the ground as he struggled to remain steady.

“Xiao Zhuo’s inner force is impressive.” Zhao Yuanzhou stalked forward, twirling his umbrella. “Truly deserving of Bing Yi’s Yunguang sword.”

He tapped the tip of his umbrella against Zhuo Yichen’s blue shield and it shattered. Zhuo Yichen stumbled and fell to the ground.

“Too bad you’re not using it correctly,” the yao continued.

Zhuo Yichen stood up, heaving for breath. “What . . . what do you mean?”

“Your technique. It’s a poor imitation of Bing Yi’s sword forms. And you’re not drawing your qi along the correct meridian pathways. It’s blocking you from using its full potential.”

“How do you know all this?”

“I’m a thousand-year old yao. I’ve picked up a thing or two over the years.”

It was on the tip of Zhuo Yichen’s tongue to ask more, but pride held him back. Zhao Yuanzhou smirked, reading him easily.

“I could teach you,” he drawled, moving closer. “But I wonder how Zhuo da-ren will pay me back?”

Zhuo Yichen stiffened, staring straight ahead. Zhao Yuanzhou circled around him, shoulder almost brushing him. He stopped behind Zhuo Yichen, then pointed two fingers at the small of his back.

“Focus your qi in this spot,” he said, pressing his fingers lightly against Zhuo Yichen. “Then draw it up along this pathway.” As he spoke, he moved his fingers up his back and across his shoulder blades, tapping a spot near the top of his arm. “From here straight down your sword arm and into your sword. Remember - the mind is endless, the flowing water tireless.”

At the first touch of Zhao Yuanzhou’s fingers, Zhuo Yichen had inhaled sharply, holding his breath. His ears burned. He forced himself to think past the distraction of Zhao Yuanzhou’s light touch and memorize the indicated pathway. As soon as the yao had finished, he stepped forward. He repeated the mantra to himself quietly and let his awareness focus inward until he could feel his inner core and draw the qi within through his meridians to his sword. This time the blade flared brightly, vibrating with power.

“Impressive indeed,” Zhao Yuanzhou praised him. “Xiao Zhuo is a quick learner.”

Zhuo Yichen couldn't help a pleased smile from appearing. Then Zhao Yuanzhou appeared in front of him again and the smile disappeared. He cleared his throat, looking at a vague point in the distance. “Thanks.”

“That’s it?” The grin was back on Zhao Yuanzhou’s face. “Xiao Zhuo, ah Xiao Zhuo. Is this how you thank your husband?”

“How . . . what . . . how should I thank you then?”

“I’ll let you figure that out.” Zhao Yuanzhou had the audacity to wink, before he twirled and walked away.

Zhuo Yichen had to duck abruptly to avoid being brained by Zhao Yuanzhou’s umbrella. He glared after him. Somehow he had the uncomfortable feeling that he had fallen right into the yao’s trap.

The following days began to establish a routine for Zhuo Yichen. Unless he was investigating a case, he would spend the day at the Demon Hunting Bureau and like clockwork, Zhao Yuanzhou would come by at dusk to bring him back home. They would spar in the garden for an hour or so, until Zhuo Yichen would say an awkward goodnight and walk back to his chambers by himself. Zhao Yuanzhou always let him go with no attempt at stopping him. It was Zhuo Yichen’s own niggling voice in the back of his head which repeated the rumours, whispered unspeakable things about sharing a bed and . . . sleeping together. A different kind of dream began to haunt his sleep at night.

One morning, just as Zhuo Yichen was about to leave Peach Blossom Manor, he was stopped by Zhao Yuanzhou running towards him, flailing his arms and yelling loudly at him to wait. Zhuo Yichen turned and watched him approach.

“Xiao Zhuo! Have mercy on your husband,” the yao gasped, catching his breath as he came to an abrupt stop. “Such an unreasonable hour to already be awake!”

Zhuo Yichen rolled his eyes. “I didn’t invite you to come with me, did I?”

“Xiao Zhuo!” Zhao Yuanzhou gasped again, this time in mock outrage. “Have you forgotten that you still haven’t thanked me?”

Zhuo Yichen had, in fact, forgotten. “So?”

“So you’re taking me with you today for a stroll through the streets and markets.” He grabbed Zhuo Yichen’s elbow and dragged him out of the gate and down the street. “I hope you brought your purse.”

“My purse?” Zhuo Yichen squawked. “I married into your house!”

“That’s right. So now my wife controls all of my money and finances. I’m entirely dependent on you, Xiao Zhuo.”

“Don’t expect me to spend even a single coin on you.”

“Xiao Zhuooooo! How you can you be so cruel?!?”

“I’m being fiscally responsible. You would probably waste all of your money on useless trinkets.”

Zhao Yuanzhou sighed dramatically. “I must have done some terrible things in my previous life to deserve such a horrible fate in this one.”

“You’re one to talk. I’m the one who’s married to you.”

Bickering as they walked, they reached one of Tiandu’s main thoroughfares. Despite the early hour, the streets were crowded. Small stands and carts were set up along both sides of the street selling everything imaginable. Merchants cried out loudly and hawkers rove the streets with skewers of tanghulu. Enticing smells wafted up from the many food vendors.

Zhao Yuanzhou quickly took advantage of that fact to grip Zhuo Yichen’s arm even tighter. “So I don’t lose you,” he said with a wink.

He was unlikely to lose sight of Zhuo Yichen, however; it was more the other way around. Every ten seconds, something caught the yao’s eyes and he darted this way and that, exclaiming loudly over every little thing he fancied and excitedly calling for Zhuo Yichen to share in his enthusiasm.

Zhuo Yichen did not share his enthusiasm. Stiff-backed, arms crossed, right hand holding the sheath of his sword in a death grip, he followed after Zhao Yuanzhou, trying not to lose sight of him in the crowd. He had thought being married to a yao was the worst that could happen to him. He was wrong; this was much, much worse. He ducked his head in embarrassment to avoid eye contact with everyone around him, but he was unable to escape hearing their twitters of surprise, whispered comments and stifled laughter.

He found himself stopped in front of a stand which sold hairpins. One in particular caught his eye - made of ivory and carved in the shape of a dragon. It would match the bone fragments with which Zhao Yuanzhou usually decorated his hair, he thought, as he absentmindedly reached for it.

“A fine choice, Zhuo da-ren,” the elderly lady behind the stand informed him. “Your husband is a lucky man.”

Zhuo Yichen blushed. He realized he was still holding the hairpin. He hesitated, wanting to put it back down but feeling bad for just looking and not purchasing anything. In the end, after hesitating for another moment too long, he hastily handed over a few coins from his purse and slipped the hairpin inside his sleeve. He turned away from the stand just in time for Zhao Yuanzhou to tug at his sleeve.

“Keep up, Xiao Zhuo. You’re falling behind.”

They walked side-by-side for a while. At one point Zhuo Yichen fell prey to Zhao Yuanzhou’s pouty expression and conceded to buy him several pieces of jade for his always-present gourd flask. The bright smile on Zhao Yuanzhou’s face as Zhuo Yichen gave him the purchased jade was almost worth it.

As they continued meandering down the street, Zhuo Yichen couldn’t help but feel jealous of the easy manner in which Zhao Yuanzhou interacted with everyone he crossed. Whereas Zhuo Yichen felt that his nod of greeting always came across as stiff and awkward, Zhao Yuanzhou had this natural charm about him which quickly endeared him to young and old, men and women, rich and poor.

“Stop flirting with everyone,” he grumbled at one point, after Zhao Yuanzhou had helped an elderly lady carry her heavy basket and then said with a completely straight face that even the sun had only risen that morning to catch another glimpse of her beautiful face.

Zhao Yuanzhou laughed, bumping his shoulder against Zhuo Yichen’s. “Sipping vinegar, Xiao Zhuo?” he grinned as Zhuo Yichen’s ears burned red. “Don’t worry, I save my real flirting for my husband.” He trailed a hand teasingly down Zhuo Yichen’s back, letting it come to rest for a second in the small of his back, just at the top of his ass.

Zhuo Yichen let out a very undignified yelp and sprang forward. “We’re in public!” he hissed.

“We’re a newly married couple,” Zhao Yuanzhou retorted. He raised an eyebrow. “Wait. So does that mean Xiao Zhuo wouldn’t object if we weren’t in public?”

“That’s, that’s . . . that’s not what I meant!” The red flush had crept from his ears down his neck.

Zhao Yuanzhou didn’t respond, but his enigmatic smile and dark pupils spoke volumes. Zhuo Yichen attempted to reclaim the remaining shreds of his dignity and stomped off, hoping that nobody had seen Zhao Yuanzhou’s brazen display.

They hadn’t, in fact. As Zhuo Yichen began to look around him more closely, he finally noticed the way people were looking at him and Zhao Yuanzhou. Most appeared happy to see them, talking quietly amongst themselves of the positive changes the peace treaty would bring. Their comments focused on what a dashing couple they made - the mysterious yao who had captured the heart of Tiandu’s most eligible bachelor. To Zhuo Yichen’s horror, he heard a song sung by a travelling minstrel at a street corner which recounted the story of how a yao prince had wooed the man initially set out to kill him, and how the young man had fallen passionately in love with yao instead.

Zhao Yuanzhou filched Zhuo Yichen’s purse and tossed the minstrel a handful of coins. “Good art should be rewarded,” he said unapologetically when Zhuo Yichen glared daggers at him and snatched the purse back.

After wandering a bit further through the streets, Zhuo Yichen glanced at Zhao Yuanzhou. The yao walked sedately at his side, a small smile on his lips, his sleeve occasionally brushing Zhuo Yichen’s. He was displaying none of his previous ridiculous behaviour. A flash of insight came to him. “You did all this on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Did what?”

“Bring us out here so that everyone could see us together. To counteract some of the rumours about our marriage . . . not being real.”

Zhao Yuanzhou just looked at him and shrugged, a cryptic smile on his face. Zhuo Yichen frowned for a moment; it bothered him that he knew so little about his husband or his motives. He was starting to realize that there was much, much more to Zhao Yuanzhou than just the fact that he was a great yao.

They kept walking side by side in comfortable silence, shoulders bumping occasionally. With sudden clarity, Zhuo Yichen realized that he no longer felt uneasy in the yao’s presence. Constantly embarrassed and flustered, yes. But somehow, Zhao Yuanzhou didn’t feel like an enemy anymore, and Peach Blossom Manor had begun to feel like home. The realization caught Zhuo Yichen by surprise, and he walked lost in thought for a while. When had things started to change? Was this a good or a bad thing?

He hadn’t been paying attention to his surroundings when Zhao Yuanzhou suddenly stopped with an exclamation of surprise.

“What is it?” Zhuo Yichen pulled his sword a few inches out of its sheath, looking around for any indication of danger.

“It’s a Mountain God Temple! I wonder who the keeper is.” Zhao Yuanzhou wandered in through the open courtyard door, calling out loudly in greeting.

Relieved that this was just another one of Zhao Yuanzhou’s diversions, Zhuo Yichen followed him slowly and looked around the deserted temple courtyard. It didn’t look like anybody was taking care of the property. Zhao Yuanzhou disappeared inside the main hall of the shrine. With an annoyed sigh, Zhuo Yichen walked after him. Just as he reached the doors, a soft sound caught his attention - a small stone kicked across the flagstones, footsteps purposefully trying to be quiet.

“Zhao Yuanzhou,” he warned, before quickly turning on his heel, this time unsheathing his sword fully in a practiced, fluid motion.

The blade met a downward sword blow which would have severed his head if he hadn’t turned in time. He pivoted and darted forward, slashing the black-clad attacker across his sword arm. His opponent cried out in pain and dropped the sword, yet already three more were converging upon Zhuo Yichen. He blocked their attacks and returned his own, drawing his qi through the Yunguang sword as Zhao Yuanzhou had taught him. The blade burned icy blue, a whirl of motion as Zhuo Yichen twirled through the air. Several more opponents fell to his onslaught as he cursed Zhao Yuanzhou under his breath. Where was the stupid monkey?

Suddenly he felt a presence at his back; someone was moving in tandem with him, mirroring his motions but using an umbrella instead of a sword. They fought together as if they had always fought like that. Their symmetry was instinctual and smooth. Zhuo Yichen couldn’t help the feeling of exhilaration which rose up in him at being able to fight alongside such a well-matched partner.

“There’s a barrel of rainwater in the corner of the courtyard,” Zhao Yuanzhou commented casually, as if they were still aimlessly strolling through the streets and not being beset by a dozen attackers. “Can you feel it?”

Zhuo Yichen let his awareness shift from just his sword to encompass his surroundings. He could feel the blade humming in response to the innate swirling qi of the water. “Mhm,” he nodded, ducking underneath a wild sword swing and sweeping his leg to trip the attacker. Zhao Yuanzhou followed with a well-aimed slash of his umbrella which knocked the person unconscious.

“Summon the water. Then transform it. Give form to the intangible.”

Zhuo Yichen did as he was told. The water arched across the courtyard to gather in a tight swirl around his sword. Furrowing his brows in concentration, he felt for the water, felt its structure and motion. His entire body vibrated with a sense of power; he summoned that power and changed the water into sharp shards of ice. Lunging forward, he stabbed his sword straight ahead and the ice shards flew in the same direction, impaling most of the attackers still standing. Zhuo Yichen turned, satisfied. A grin lit up his face as he looked at Zhao Yuanzhou who returned the expression.

Suddenly Zhuo Yichen’s smile disappeared as another black-clad figure leapt down into the courtyard, right behind Zhao Yuanzhou. Without thinking, he leapt forward. The attacker reached for a hidden weapon inside their sleeve, but Zhuo Yichen knocked their arm aside, stabbing the person in the chest. He felt a prick on his forearm but ignored it, driving his full weight onto his sword as the attacher fell to the ground. A moment later, they went limp.

A hand appeared in Zhuo Yichen’s peripheral vision. He reached out and clasped it. Zhao Yuanzhou helped him stand, releasing his hand. He looked Zhuo Yichen up and down frantically, eyes radiating concern.

“You’re not hurt?”

Zhuo Yichen shook his head. “You?”

“It takes more than a couple thugs to take me down,” the yao replied flippantly. He kicked over one of the dead bodies, exposing the person’s forearm. “Looks like they’re trying a different strategy.”

Zhuo Yichen immediately recognized the tattoo of the Chongwu Camp. He knelt down beside another body; it revealed the same mark on the inside of their wrist. He wondered at the blatant attack. Was the Chongwu Camp truly that desperate to attack him and Zhao Yuanzhou in broad daylight? Either they were getting careless, or they had been sure they would be successful. Something felt off about the entire situation.

Before he could say something, the front gate of the temple swung open wider and someone skipped inside, loudly singing a carefree tune while carrying a basket full of fresh produce from the market. The singing abruptly stopped.

“Hey! You two! Stop robbing these corpses! Wait, why are there dead bodies in my temple? Murder! Murder!!!”

Zhao Yuanzhou rolled his eyes. In a flash, he was beside the young man and had his hand clapped across his mouth. “Stop yelling, little Mountain God. You’re going to cause a fuss.”

The young mountain god struggled in the yao’s arms but was unable to escape his grip. He stopped moving and opened his eyes pleadingly. Zhao Yuanzhou carefully removed his hand. “What’s your name, little god?”

“Ying Lei. And stop calling me little. I’m already several hundred years old!”

“Mhm, very grown up. My apologies, Ying shanshen.”

Ying Lei straightened his clothes and began gathering the vegetables that had spilled from his basket. He muttered to himself as he carefully checked a tomato for bruises, patting it lovingly.

Zhuo Yichen had watched the entire interaction with an amused smile. He stood up, frowning as his legs almost buckled beneath him. He shook his head to dispel the bout of dizziness that assailed him.

“Xiao Zhuo?” Zhao Yuanzhou was immediately by his side, frowning in worry. “You’re too pale. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

Zhuo Yichen lifted his right arm. Just past the leather gauntlet on his forearm, there was a small nick in the fabric of his sleeve. The torn edges were tinged red.

“Let me.” Zhao Yuanzhou grabbed his arm and laid his hand over the small wound. Red tendrils wrapped themselves around Zhuo Yichen’s arm. Zhao Yuanzhou’s brow furrowed. “Strange. Why isn’t it working?”

Zhuo Yichen felt another wave of dizziness rush over him. He swayed on his feet, half-collapsing against Zhao Yuanzhou. He felt no pain, but his brain was foggy and he couldn’t think properly. He wanted to let go, sink down into nothingness and never wake up again.

“Xiao Zhuo? Xiao Zhuo!” Zhao Yuanzhou’s voice sounded distant and muffled to his ears. Zhuo Yichen didn’t understand why the yao looked so scared.

Ying Lei came over and grabbed Zhuo Yichen’s arm. He lowered his head and sniffed the wound. “Poison,” he announced.

“What?” gasped Zhao Yuanzhou. At the same time, Zhuo Yichen’s eyes rolled back and his head lolled to the side. Zhao Yuanzhou held him tighter to prevent him from falling to the ground. “Xiao Zhuo! Wake up, Xiao Zhuo!”

“Jixin Clinic! There’s a new doctor at the clinic down the street,” Ying Lei spoke up, eyes wide but remarkable calm under the circumstances. “I ran into him the other day, literally ran into him. I was just coming back from the market and then -"

Zhao Yuanzhou cut him off. “Run! Let him know I’m coming!” He reached an arm underneath the back of Zhuo Yichen’s knees and lifted him up.

Ying Lei grinned at him and reached into his sleeve, taking out an artefact carved in the likeness of Kunlun Divine Mountain. “I’ve got a better idea!”

They disappeared in a golden swirl of light, reappearing seconds later inside a small medical clinic. A shrill ringing in their ears accompanied their arrival. Zhao Yuanzhou shook his head to clear the ringing but it continued unabated. Beside him, Ying Lei sprang up, waving his arms.

“Hey! Hey! It’s okay, we’re friends! At least I am, I don’t actually know who these two are. But one of them is poisoned! Can you help? Please?”

Zhao Yuanzhou realized the noise was coming from a young boy standing in front of them inside the medical clinic. The scream abruptly ended.

“Poisoned? Who? Where? Let me see!”

“You’re the doctor?” Zhao Yuanzhou raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

“Is there a problem?” The young doctor stemmed his arms on his hips and glared up at Zhao Yuanzhou. He pointed to one side of the clinic. “Get him to that bed!”

Zhao Yuanzhou complied hurriedly. He lay Zhuo Yichen on the bed and sat down beside him, watching as the young doctor took Zhuo Yichen’s pulse.

“Roll his sleeve up,” he commanded, walking over to a shelf filled with jars and vials.

Zhao Yuanzhou’s fingers scrabbled uselessly at Zhuo Yichen’s gauntlet. In frustration, he released a one-word spell. The gauntlet fell away and he pushed the sleeve up. Zhuo Yichen’s entire forearm was flushed red and swollen, angry black lines streaking up his arm from the small slash.

The doctor pushed him to the side and poured a white powder over the wound. From a small vial, he shook out a small medicine bead and pushed it between Zhuo Yichen’s lips. “Water,” he requested without turning his head.

Zhao Yuanzhou looked around and spied a jug of water on a small side table. He grabbed it and pressed it into the doctor’s hands.

“Will he be alright, little doctor?” asked Zhao Yuanzhou. Worry was evident in his voice.

“My name’s Bai Jiu. Thankfully only a tiny amount of the poison got into his bloodstream or he would’ve already been dead. Recovery is going to be slow and he’ll be weak for some time, but his body should be able to expel the remaining poison. I’ll prepare the medicine he’ll need to take over the next few days.” Bai Jiu bustled about the room as he spoke and gathered several jars which he handed to Zhao Yuanzhou along with a detailed prescription. “Who are you all anyway?”

Ying Lei bowed with a bright smile, but before he could say anything, Zhao Yuanzhou spoke first. “That’s Zhuo Yichen, commander of the Demon Hunting Bureau,” he responded, gesturing to the still-unconscious Zhuo Yichen on the bed. “And I’m his husband.”

“And I’m . . . .” Ying Lei began, but he was interrupted again.

“Zhuo da-ren?” Bai Jiu asked, an undisguised squeal in his voice. “I can’t believe I just saved Zhuo da-ren’s life!” Suddenly his entire body froze, as if he had realized something. He turned slowly to look at Zhao Yuanzhou. His eyes grew comically wide. “Then . . . then . . . that means that you’re . . . you’re a . . . .”

To prevent another scream from almost puncturing his eardrums, Zhao Yuanzhou waved his hand. Bai Jiu’s mouth clamped shut. “I’m a yao,” Zhao Yuanzhou confirmed.

Bai Jiu’s eyes rolled back in their sockets and he fainted, collapsing against the bed.

Zhao Yuanzhou sighed in annoyance. “You. Take care of him,” he ordered Ying Lei who had no choice but to nod. “Tell him to stop by Peach Blossom Manor tomorrow morning for a follow-up, or I’ll come by this clinic and unleash the full fury of my yao power.”

He then commandeered Ying Lei’s Shanhai portal and sat down on the bed, gathering Zhuo Yichen carefully into his arms. Golden tendrils of light emanated from the artefact, spreading around the room before encircling Zhao Yuanzhou and Zhuo Yichen. They disappeared, leaving behind an unconscious Bai Jiu and a nervous-looking Ying Lei, scratching his head just behind his ear as he shifted his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other.

Chapter 3: Futile Resistance

Zhuo Yichen woke up slowly, his head pounding and his limbs heavy. His mouth was so dry it hurt. “Water,” he croaked, the word turning into a cough.

Immediately someone was by his side, helping him sit up. A shallow bowl was lifted to his lips and Zhuo Yichen drank eagerly.

“Slowly, slowly,” a voice admonished.

The blurriness gradually faded from Zhuo Yichen’s eyes and he looked around. He was in his bed; nearby a lit brazier smelling of herbs released its soothing fumes. Zhao Yuanzhou sat beside him on the edge of the bed, looking at him with a mixture of concern and relief.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been poisoned.”

“You remember?”

“I remember saving your life.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Zhao Yuanzhou’s lips. “I am forever in your debt, Xiao Zhuo.”

Zhuo Yichen frowned. “I’m the only one who’s allowed to kill you,” he retorted. “You’re not dying by anyone else’s hands.”

Zhao Yuanzhou nodded, murmuring his agreement. He reached for another bowl, this one steaming slightly. “The doctor said to give you this medicine when you wake up.”

Zhuo Yichen tried to reach for the bowl, but his hands trembled slightly. Zhao Yuanzhou tsked softly and pushed them aside. “Let me,” he said. He dipped a spoon into the mixture, blew on it to cool it down, then raised the spoon to Zhuo Yichen’s mouth.

Unwillingly, Zhuo Yichen opened his mouth and allowed Zhao Yuanzhou to feed him the medicine. He was uncomfortable with this level of intimacy and care. Zhao Yuanzhou was too near, looking at him too closely. His deep, dark eyes flickered with something too quick for Zhuo Yichen to read.

“Tired,” he mumbled, once he had finished drinking the medicine. He hoped the warm blush on his cheeks could be ascribed to the heat in the room.

He turned over, unable to keep holding Zhao Yuanzhou’s gaze. He felt him readjust the covers and tuck him in, then straighten his hair half-pinned under his head. All the while, Zhao Yuanzhou was careful not to touch Zhuo Yichen directly. Before he fell asleep, Zhuo Yichen’s last thought was that perhaps, just maybe, he wished Zhao Yuanzhou would have.

Thanks to Bai Jiu’s treatments and Zhao Yuanzhou’s care, his recovery progressed steadily. The yao made sure sure that Zhuo Yichen was comfortable, well-fed and kept abreast of everything going on in Tiandu. He was always within earshot in case Zhuo Yichen needed something, and he made sure to keep away anybody from dropping in on an unwanted visit. On the whole, Zhuo Yichen felt spoiled - a feeling he hadn’t felt since his older brother passed away.

In the wake of the yao’s attentiveness, it was difficult for Zhuo Yichen to keep up his previous hostility. And even more difficult to stop his heartbeat from skipping a beat every time the yao burst in through the door of his room, that devastating smile on his face. The contradictory feelings Zhuo Yichen felt towards him only grew stronger each day, making him feel confused and short-tempered. And so he hid beneath a facade of polite civility, steeling his expression to one of cool indifference.

After several days in bed, Zhuo Yichen finally managed to convince Zhao Yuanzhou that he wasn’t going to collapse if he got up and walked around. He was feeling much better and was going to go stir-crazy if he wasn’t able to move his legs and leave his room. At least it didn’t smell like a sick person’s chambers; Zhao Yuanzhou had opened the windows wide each day to clear the air and lit several floral-scented candles.

Under the yao’s careful supervision, Zhuo Yichen moved to the edge of the bed and stood up. “I’m fine,” he snapped, when he saw Zhao Yuanzhou reach forward as if to steady him.

“Of course,” Zhao Yuanzhou replied smoothly, retracting his hand. “Would Zhuo daren like a bath?”

Zhuo Yichen nodded and followed Zhao Yuanzhou to the Peach Blossom Manor’s bathhouse. A small enclosed pavilion had been constructed over a natural hot spring on the manor’s property. It contained two large stone basins sunk into the ground - one steaming at a pleasant warmth and the other icy cold. Several benches lined the wall of the pavilion.

“Does Zhuo daren require any assistance?” Zhao Yuanzhou continued in a very formal tone as they reached the bathhouse. He hovered at Zhuo Yichen’s elbow.

“Most definitely not,” Zhuo Yichen replied immediately and shut the door of the pavilion firmly in the yao’s face.

He slipped off his outer robe and then the single inner layer he wore. Since he had been brought back to the manor he had only cleaned himself with a cloth and bucket of water as best as he could manage. He had adamantly refused the yao’s offer to help him change his clothes and so he shrugged off the grimy inner robe in relief. Sinking down into the warm, soothing water, he sighed and settled comfortably onto one of the natural stone seats carved into the basin.

After a long time and several sound scrubbings of soap later, Zhuo Yichen emerged from the bathhouse, skin flushed pink and wearing clean robes. To his surprise, Zhao Yuanzhou was sitting cross-legged on a stone outside, having apparently waited for him the entire time.

“You look better,” Zhao Yuanzhou said, giving him a once-over.

“I feel better,” Zhuo Yichen replied honestly. His ears began to heat at the scrutiny.

Zhao Yuanzhou frowned. “Your hair is still wet. You’ll catch a cold like this and then you’ll be bedridden again.”

He led Zhuo Yichen back to his chamber and had him sit down on a stool. Ignoring his protests, he began combing his hair, untangling the knots and running the strands through his fingers. Zhuo Yichen felt a warm tingle run from his scalp down his spine. He could sense Zhao Yuanzhou draw on his power, presumably to quicken his hair drying. The sensation of someone else combing his hair was unfamiliar, yet surprisingly pleasant. Zhuo Yichen closed his eyes as he relaxed; when Zhao Yuanzhou began to massage his scalp lightly, he couldn’t help the low murmur which escaped from the back of his throat. Zhao Yuanzhou’s fingers faltered for a brief second before resuming.

Zhuo Yichen had lost all track of time when Zhao Yuanzhou cleared his throat. His hands had stopped. “Would you like your hair pinned up with your new hairpin?”

“What new hairpin?"

An ivory hairpin in the shape of a dragon appeared in front of Zhuo Yichen. Zhao Yuanzhou spoke hesitantly. “This one. It fell from your sleeve when I brought you back from the doctor’s clinic. I assumed you bought it in the market?”

Zhuo Yichen had forgotten about that hairpin. “I didn’t buy that for me.” The honest words slipped from his lips before he could stop them.

He couldn’t see Zhao Yuanzhou who was standing behind him. “Oh?” There was an odd inflection to the single syllable.

Zhuo Yichen turned. Zhao Yuanzhou was still holding the hairpin, head tilted slightly as he looked at him. There was no amusement in his eyes, no flirtatious curve to his lips. For once he was serious.

Zhuo Yichen looked down at his laps, twisting his hands together. He cursed himself for having bought that hairpin. And yet . . . wasn’t the reason he had bought it to thank Zhao Yuanzhou? Thanks he deserved even more now after having cared for him as he lay helpless on his sickbed?

“It, it’s, it’s yours,” he stuttered in embarrassment. He curled his hands over the hairpin and Zhao Yuanzhou’s hands, pushing them towards the yao. “I bought it for you.”

When he tried to remove his hands, Zhao Yuanzhou blinked and grabbed them again, holding on tightly. “For me?”

“As . . . as a gift. And a thank you.”

Zhao Yuanzhou’s eyes widened. Zhuo Yichen could have sworn he saw the faintest hint of a rosy blush appear on his cheeks. “A gift I will treasure forever,” the yao finally said and reached up to carefully slip the hairpin through knot of hair at the back of his head.

Zhuo Yichen took advantage of the moment to get up and put some distance from between them. But his eyes kept wandering to the hairpin gleaming in stark contrast against Zhao Yuanzhou’s dark hair. It looked good on him.

His recovery continued, yet Zhao Yuanzhou’s attention did not lessen. In fact it seemed to increase. He began to help Zhuo Yichen dress and comb his hair on a daily basis. He no longer hesitated to grab his arm to help him walk or lay an arm around his waist to steady him. The more Zhuo Yichen allowed, the more Zhao Yuanzhou advanced. That voice in the back of his head was back, asking Zhuo Yichen what else he would allow Zhao Yuanzhou do to him.

On a balmy, sunny morning, Zhuo Yichen was in the covered veranda overlooking the garden, feeling almost completely recovered and reading the latest bundle of missives which Fan Ying had sent over. He heard footsteps approach and looked up. Wen Xiao came around the corner and he smiled in greeting, happy to see her again in what felt like a long time. He gestured at her to sit down and reached for the teapot sitting on a small burner, pouring her a cup of tea.

“Zhao Yuanzhou says you’re doing much better,” she said once she sat the teacup back down. “He’s been most protective of you and your recovery.”

“He’s been . . . attentive,” Zhuo Yichen ventured, cautiously.

“You seem to have adjusted well to married life.”

Zhuo Yichen blinked, scrambling to find a suitable response. “He’s . . . not what I expected. For a yao,” he said finally.

“Mhm,” Wen Xiao hummed in response, adjusting the sleeves of her white robes. “There’s a new song being sung about you two in the streets,” she commented blithely. “Something about a yao prince saving his one true love, and his love finally confessing his feelings as he’s dying in the yao prince’s arms.”

Zhuo Yichen scowled. “I’m aware. Zhao Yuanzhou keeps humming it under his breath. And Bai Jiu and Ying Lei insist on acting it out every time they come to visit.”

“Ah the young doctor and the little mountain god? Zhao Yuanzhou had mentioned that you’ve adopted two kids.”

“That’s not, we haven’t . . . .” Zhuo Yichen buried his head in arms. “That is not what happened.” His voice came muffled through his sleeve.

It was true that Bai Jiu came by on almost a daily basis to check up on him, and somehow Ying Lei always seemed to be with him. Zhao Yuanzhou had then asked the young mountain god to come by regularly and cook for Zhuo Yichen, which Ying Lei had agreed to excitedly. The two brought a riot of noise and chaos into the otherwise quiet calm of Peach Blossom Manor. As awkward as Zhuo Yichen felt interacting with them, he was glad for their presence as it prevented him from being alone with Zhao Yuanzhou the entire day.

“Has Zhao Yuanzhou ever told you how he came to acquire this manor?” Wen Xiao asked suddenly, changing the topic.

Zhuo Yichen shook his head. “He has all the correct paperwork though. Even his identity as Zhao Yuanzhou is officially registered on the household list.”

“And do you know what he does with his time?”

Again, Zhuo Yichen shook his head. “Other than annoy me, or take naps in his tree, I don’t know. Why?”

“He’s been asking me about the Baize Token.”

“What’s his interest in the Baize Goddess?”

This time it was Wen Xiao who slowly shook her head. “I don’t know, but I have the feeling that I’ve met him before, when I was studying with my master in the Great Wilderness.”

“You think he wants the Baize Token for himself?”

“He wouldn’t be able to wield it. Either he wants it found for some reason, or he doesn’t want it found at all.”

Zhuo Yichen sat back, a thoughtful look on his face. He had no doubt that the yao had his own agenda and ulterior motives. But what they were exactly . . . . He realized how much he had let his guard down around the yao, lured into complacency by his attentive care and steady presence.

Just then, Zhao Yuanzhou himself came walking around the corner, carrying a tray of pastries and other snacks. He sat down beside Zhuo Yichen and gave Wen Xiao a look. “As you can see, Wen daren, my bride is doing well.”

Wen Xiao smiled sweetly. “Good. I would hate to make Xiao Zhuo a widow at such a young age.”

Zhao Yuanzhou turned his beseeching eyes to Zhuo Yichen. “Do you see what I have to put up with? Everyone likes you more than me, even our two kids prefer you to me.”

Zhuo Yichen rolled his eyes. “I like you just fine,” he replied without thinking.

He realized what he had just said when Zhao Yuanzhou froze, eyes wide, mouth in a silent ‘o’ of surprise. Zhuo Yichen felt his ears heat up, glad that he was wearing his hair half down. “That’s not what I meant,” he began lamely, trying to retract the implication of his words.

Zhao Yuanzhou shook his head. “I heard what you said. And Wen Xiao is my witness.”

Wen Xiao smiled coyly as she lifted her teacup to her lips and sipped daintily. Zhuo Yichen threw her a betrayed look.

Desperate for a change of conversation, he glanced at the booklets on the table beside Wen Xiao. “Do you have news about the murders?”

A string of odd murders had the entire city in a grip of fear. Several bodies had been found in the middle of the streets by night watchmen - necks broken, strange punctures and lacerations, faces frozen in a rictus of terror. Rumours that it was a great yao rampant in the human realm were rife throughout Tiandu. Much of the good work the peace treaty and marriage between Zhuo Yichen and Zhao Yuanzhou had brought about was being undone.

“Fan Ying and Situ Ming have petitioned the prime minister for the Demon Hunting Bureau to be given the lead in the case. Minister Wu Yan objected of course, but we successfully received the signed letter giving us authority to investigate.” She looked at Zhuo Yichen gravely. “The Prime Minister made clear that this is to be a test. If we handle the case well, then he’ll speak to the king about your request to grant official status to the bureau.”

Zhuo Yichen nodded, determined that they would not fail. “I’ll be back in the bureau tomorrow and we’ll start. Send someone to the mortuary to inform them we’ll stop by to look at the bodies.”

Wen Xiao hesitated. “There’s one catch.”

“Which is?”

“The prime minister has assigned someone to accompany us. All steps need to be approved by her first.”

Zhuo Yichen closed his eyes in frustration at the unnecessary bureaucratic hurdle. “Fine. The two of us will meet her tomorrow and then we’ll start investigation.”

“The three of us,” Zhao Yuanzhou threw in calmly.

“What?”

“Who better than a great yao to investigate a case of supposed murders by a great yao?”

“No.” Zhuo Yichen shook his head emphatically.

“Then I’ll just follow you anyway,” threatened Zhao Yuanzhou. “Besides Xiao Jiu has only cleared you for light duty. Someone needs to make sure you don’t overwork yourself.”

Zhuo Yichen knew it wasn’t an idle threat - the yao was likely to be a nuisance on purpose until Zhuo Yichen gave in and let him come along. He sighed, cursing innerly. He couldn’t believe he was about to give one of his prized Demon Hunting Bureau tokens to a great yao.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “But I’m in charge and you’ll do exactly as I say.”

“Of course, Zhuo tongling,” Zhao Yuanzhou winked, the look in his eyes indicating that he would do exactly the opposite.

Bright and early the next morning in the Demon Hunting Bureau, the three met the Prime Minister’s representative, Pei Sijing. She was standing at the bottom of the stairs of the bureau’s great hall holding a powerful compact bow with one hand and the other resting casually on the quiver of arrows at her hip. As they approached, she gave the three a cold once-over. Her eyes narrowed as she looked Zhao Yuanzhou up and down. Before anyone could even blink, she had an arrow nocked on her bow, the string drawn back.

Zhuo Yichen threw Zhao Yuanzhou a look as if to say ‘Why does everyone want to kill you?’. Zhao Yuanzhou threw up his hands in protest, an innocent look on his face. With a roll of his eyes, Zhuo Yichen took a step forward to block Pei Sijing’s line of sight.

“Pei daren. I can assure you that while he is likely very deserving of your arrow, I unfortunately cannot allow you to shoot him.”

“He’s a yao,” Pei Sijing stated.

“I know.”

The two exchanged a long look for moment. Then Pei Sijing slowly lowered her arm and released the tension of the taut string. But she kept the arrow nocked on the bow, ready to be drawn back in an instant.

Zhao Yuanzhou moved forward but Zhuo Yichen stepped down firmly on the edge of his robe, yanking him back abruptly. He shook his head, discouraging the yao from saying anything or doing anything. Zhao Yuanzhou frowned but surprisingly kept quiet.

Then Wen Xiao came up from the back with a warm smile for Pei Sijing. “Pei jiejie,” she greeted her, breaking the tension. “I’ve made arrangements with the mortuary. With your permission, we would like to stop by and examine the dead bodies.”

Pei Sijing nodded once, sharply. Zhuo Yichen released a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. The four of them headed out with the two women in the front and Zhuo Yichen and Zhao Yuanzhou in the back.

They arrived at the mortuary and were led by a young apprentice down the stone steps into the underground chamber. The walls were slick with moisture, the air cold and damp. Mounted wall sconces provided just enough light to see directly in front of them. The chamber at the bottom of the stairs was roughly hewn from the bedrock, providing the required chill to preserve bodies before burial. Several more lanterns were set up, casting eerie shadows over the cloth-covered bodies laid out on large slabs of stone.

The apprentice walk over to one of the bodies and pulled back the cloth, shining his torch over the corpse beneath. “These five were all killed in the past three nights. They were all strangled so hard their necks snapped. And there are strange wounds all over their bodies.”

Zhuo Yichen approached the corpse and examined it carefully. The wounds looked like punctures, but they were neither uniform nor neat - of varying sizes, with the skin torn and ragged around the edges. The neck of the person was bruised so badly it was almost black; circular patterns wound themselves several times around.

“A rope or a chain perhaps?” Wen Xiao asked.

“The marks are too irregular,” replied Zhuo Yichen. “Sometimes they press in more, sometimes less, and the width of whatever this was is also not the same. See, here it’s a lot thicker than here.”

Each of the corpses had been mangled and killed in a similar way. Zhuo Yichen had never seen anything like it. He turned to Wen Xiao. “If it was a yao, have you ever read about something like this?”

She shook her head. “Maybe we should ask the expert in the room.” They both looked over at Zhao Yuanzhou who was standing by himself beside one of the bodies. He wore a strange expression on his face.

“Zhao Yuanzhou.” He didn’t respond when Zhuo Yichen spoke his name, eyes fastened on a particular spot on the corpse.

Zhuo Yichen walked over and followed his gaze. This victim was an older man, a peasant from one of the surrounding small villages judging by the poor, homespun garb and straw-woven sandals. A braided rope was wound several times around his waist as belt. Something stuck between the belt and the robe caught Zhuo Yichen’s attention. He reached to grab it but Zhao Yuanzhou swiftly grabbed his wrist.

“Don’t touch it.” The odd note in his voice gave Zhuo Yichen pause and he withdrew his hand cautiously.

Zhao Yuanzhou extended his hand, palm up, fingers crooked like claws. Tendrils of his red yao power swirled above his hand; the small object suddenly dislodged and flew up, drawn in by the power. Zhao Yuanzhou held out his hand, the object floating gently above it.

The apprentice let out a startled, choked scream when he saw the yao power emanating from Zhao Yuanzhou’s palm. “Y-y-y-yao!” he stuttered, finger pointed accusingly.

Said yao made a gesture with his other hand, drawing the fingers to his mouth. He spoke a single syllable and more yao power spread out from him. It washed over the apprentice who froze in place, eyes wide open and unblinking.

“What did you do?” Pei Sijing asked harshly. Her bow was drawn back once again.

Zhao Yuanzhou shrugged. “He’ll snap out of it soon. With no memories of what he just witnessed.

Zhuo Yichen frowned, expressing his displeasure but also recognizing this was probably the simplest way of dealing with the issue. He had known allowing the yao to accompany them would be problematic, especially when he so casually showed off his powers. Zhuo Yichen himself still felt uneasy whenever he saw the red yao power - a constant reminder of who, and what, Zhao Yuanzhou really was. It was even more disconcerting when he looked him in the eyes and saw his usual dark irises gleaming red.

“What is this?” he asked, turning his attention back to case they were investigating.

They were all gathered around Zhao Yuanzhou’s extended hand, staring at the object. It looked like a small leaf.

“A leaf,” confirmed Zhao Yuanzhou. “Specifically, a leaf from a pagoda tree.”

“The ghost tree?” Wen Xiao asked.

Zhao Yuanzhou nodded. “These marks . . . were all made from tree branches.”

“Tree branches?” repeated Zhuo Yichen. “Then it was a yao?” Something else became suddenly clear. “And you know who it was.”

Zhao Yuanzhou slowly shook his head but he didn’t deny anything. He drew his fingers together into a fist; the red tendrils crushed the leaf into fine dust. “Impossible,” he murmured under his breath. “He’s been sealed for eight years.”

“Who? Where?” asked Zhuo Yichen but Zhao Yuanzhou ignored him. Instead, he snapped his fingers and the apprentice abruptly unfroze, looking around in confusion. In the same instant, Zhao Yuanzhou disappeared.

“Good riddance,” Pei Sijing muttered in disdain.

Zhuo Yichen held back several choice words; instead, he cursed the yao soundly in his mind. He was more confused than ever at Zhao Yuanzhou’s cryptic words; his expression mirrored that of the apprentice who was looking around in dumb bewilderment.

“Who are these?” Wen Xiao suddenly asked.

Along the furthest wall of the chamber, three more bodies dressed in black robes were lying on a shelf. Their outfits seemed familiar to Zhuo Yichen. Beside him, Pei Sijing inhaled sharply in recognition.

“Chongwu Camp,” she said quietly.

Zhuo Yichen looked at her. Mouth set in a grim line, eyes narrowed in anger, she was staring off into a dark corner; the knuckles on the hand gripping her bow were white.

“Oh those.” The apprentice had regained his composure. “Those were all found near these bodies here. But they have no marks on their bodies at all. They seem to have died from loss of blood.”

“How close nearby?” Zhuo Yichen asked.

“Usually a few steps, or around the street corner. Most of them were found collapsed face down in the street.”

Zhuo Yichen looked at the corpses one by one. Their faces were deathly pale, streaks of dried blood still visible on their chins, below their nostrils and ears, and in the corner of their eyes. It did seem as if they had bled out from all their orifices. Even stranger, odd dark-coloured lines ran across their skin, especially down their arms and torso. The lines looked similar to veins, but the placement was wrong.

“Meridians,” Wen Xiao stated. She had been staring at the lines, head tilted to one side in thought. She withdrew her dagger from her sleeve and grabbed an arm of one of the corpses, pressing the blade against one of the lines.

“Wen Xiao?” Zhuo Yichen asked nervously, hesitant to interrupt someone with a knife in their hands.

Wen Xiao cut precisely along one of the lines, then pulled the skin back slightly to reveal the incision. The air suddenly smelled of something burnt and charred.

Covering his nose with his sleeve, Zhuo Yichen leaned forward. “His meridians were burnt? From the inside?” he looked at Wen Xiao and she nodded slowly.

“That’s what it looks like. As if a great source of power swept through his meridians, and then left him burnt and bloodless.”

“Is that even possible?”

Wen Xiao hesitated. “I don’t . . . know. I would need to check the archives first.” She removed her brush from her top bun and pulled out a small file from her sleeve. She carefully drew a diagram of the corpse’s arm with its burnt-out meridians and jotted down a few characters around the diagram.

Pei Sijing had kept back, quietly observing from the background. Now she turned to the apprentice. “Why weren’t these bodies examined as well? The coroner’s notes said nothing about these.”

The apprentice seemed happy to be addressed and eager to show off what he knew. “My master said nobody is allowed to touch these. They were only brought here because they were found along with these.” He gestured at the bodies of the five murdered civilians.

Zhuo Yichen fixed his eyes on the apprentice. “Do you mean there are more bodies like these black-robes ones?”

“I overheard my master speaking with someone. I was supposed to be cleaning but I had taken a break and was sitting outside underneath an open window so I heard what they said. At each crime scene there were two bodies, but they weren’t quick enough to take away all the ones wearing black robes before the night watchmen stumbled across the scenes.”

“They? Who’s they?”

The apprentice shook his head. “I don’t know, I didn’t see the person. I only heard what they were saying.”

“Two victims at each crime scene?” Wen Xiao asked Zhuo Yichen quietly.

He turned to look at her, lowered his voice so nobody else could hear. “Or the victim and the murderer?”

Pei Sijing looked over at them, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. Zhuo Yichen and Wen Xiao quickly broke apart and did their best to look nonchalant.

The apprentice led them all back up the stone stairs. At the top he looked around in confusion, asking if there hadn’t been another member of the group. Zhuo Yichen blithely denied that someone else had been with them. He was determined to have some strong words with Zhao Yuanzhou when he showed up again for ignoring his instructions and then using his yao power and disappearing dramatically. All of which had been against Zhuo Yichen’s orders.

Pei Sijing bade them goodbye once they arrived back at the Demon Hunting Bureau. “Keep me informed on the case,” she reminded them as she fixed them with a stern glance. “I want updates on everything.”

In his study, Zhuo Yichen recorded everything that had happened that day, knowing that Wen Xiao would add her own report and findings. When evening neared, he looked up constantly, as if expecting Zhao Yuanzhou to stroll into the study at any moment. But the yao didn’t appear and Zhuo Yichen felt oddly disappointed. He arrived home to an empty and quiet manor, his footsteps echoing loudly along the covered walkways.

Zhao Yuanzhou didn’t return until almost four full days after he had disappeared. Four days during which Zhuo Yichen barely slept. He would wake up at the slightest sound, straining his ears for the sound of footsteps but always falling back against his pillow in disappointment.

He was in the garden, practicing his sword forms when he felt a prickle in the nape of his neck, an uncomfortable feeling of being watched. He felt a shift in the air around him and immediately recognized the familiar energy. Without pausing in his movements, he deftly summoned an arc of water from the pond, turned it into a sharp, icy lance, and hurled it backwards over his head. As he rotated his ankle to let the momentum turn him fully, he heard a chuckle of amusement.

Zhao Yuanzhou was perched on top of a large boulder on the other side of the pond. He was laughing, teeth gleaming sharply behind red lips. The ice lance was hovering in front of him, encased in a shimmering layer of red. With a casual twist of his wrist, the lance turned on its head and changed to a dark red colour, laced with black and covered in sharp barbs. He flicked his hand and the lance flew straight at Zhuo Yichen; he leapt up and followed in its trail, flying gracefully across the pond.

The lance sped towards Zhuo Yichen with inhuman speed and power. He barely had enough time to raise a blue wall of his qi to block it. Even so, the impact of its thrust caused him to skid backwards several paces. He blinked to clear the bright glare of the impact and suddenly Zhao Yuanzhou was right in front of him with another attack, this time an offensive blast of his yao power.

“Did you miss me that much?” he winked, dancing sideways to avoid a violent slash of Yunguang sword.

Zhuo Yichen snarled in outrage, angry at both Zhao Yuanzhou’s evasive scurrying and his casual dismissal of the fact he had been gone for so long without word. More than anything, he hated being played for a fool and the way Zhao Yuanzhou constantly toyed with him rankled more than he could bear. He shifted into a more aggressive style, pressing Zhao Yuanzhou from all sides.

And yet the yao easily blocked every move. His every movement was deliberate, refined. His body moved gracefully, effortlessly. Normally when they sparred he was constantly talking - either teaching Zhuo Yichen a new technique, or teasing him with an amused twinkle in his eyes. Now he was silent, serious. Only when Zhuo Yichen finally began to tire did he finally speak.

“You’re angry,” he commented, ducking under a wild blow and then neatly spinning on his heel to move up right behind Zhuo Yichen. With one arm slung across his chest he trapped him against himself. With the other, he reached for Zhuo Yichen’s right wrist and pressed down firmly until the grip on his sword’s hilt slackened.

Breathing heavily, Zhuo Yichen struggled against Zhao Yuanzhou’s iron grip but he was held fast in his embrace. The fingers on his wrist dug in painfully until he dropped his sword. It fell to the ground with a loud clatter. The shame of losing the fight so utterly brought tears to Zhuo Yichen’s eyes. What use were his skills and reputation as one of the most renowned swordsmen in Tiandu when he was so easily overpowered by Zhao Yuanzhou? Against the yao, he was as weak and helpless as a little kid.

Perhaps realizing something was wrong, Zhao Yuanzhou loosened the arm across Zhuo Yichen’s chest and turned him around. Zhuo Yichen watched bitterly as his eyes widened in surprise, then softened. He shut his own; he didn’t want to see Zhao Yuanzhou pity him.

“Xiao Zhuo.” Zhao Yuanzhou’s voice was soft, yet insistent. “Why are you angry?”

“I’m not angry,” Zhuo Yichen muttered angrily. He tore himself free of Zhao Yuanzhou’s hands and bent to pick up his dropped sword. He sheathed it and stormed off.

Zhuo Yichen spent the rest of the evening hiding out in his chambers. He was aware that he hadn’t handled that situation very well. He had let Zhao Yuanzhou get under his skin, had lashed out at him unfairly, and then refused to talk about it. He felt guilty about it, yet he was also bothered by the fact that Zhao Yuanzhou was deliberately keeping things from him. The irony that it was hypocritical for him to feel hurt by the lack of trust when he himself did not fully trust Zhao Yuanzhou did not escape him. As always, the tangled mess of feelings he felt for Zhao Yuanzhou was impossible to unravel or make sense of.

Night had fallen yet Zhuo Yichen was still awake, once again unable to fall asleep. Although he refused to admit it to himself, he was waiting for something, someone. When he finally heard light footsteps walking across the tiled rooftop above his head, he was immediately up and running to the door. On the rooftop, he sat down silently beside Zhao Yuanzhou, not knowing what to say but strangely relieved at his presence.

Zhao Yuanzhou held his usual gourd flask in one hand, a jug of wine in the other which he handed wordlessly to Zhuo Yichen. Zhuo Yichen accepted the wine with one hand, with the other reaching into his sleeve to hand several jade pendants to Zhao Yuanzhou in exchange. The yao’s eyebrows rose but he didn’t say anything as he accepted the pendants. Zhuo Yichen unstoppered the jug of wine and drank deeply. Above them, the bright round moon shone down on them.

“I’m -”

“Xiao Zhuo, I -”

They both spoke at the same time, then stopped. Zhuo Yichen took a deep breath but Zhao Yuanzhou beat him.

“I missed you.”

Zhuo Yichen stared at the yao, his brain trying to process the words. I missed you too, that voice replied in his mind but he was unable to say the words.

“Where did you go? You disappeared so quickly and for several days. I was . . . worried.”

They looked at each for the space of a heartbeat, then two. Unspoken apologies hung in the air.

“I went to check on . . . someone I once knew. His name is Li Lun,” began Zhao Yuanzhou. “Eight years ago, he was sealed by the Baize Goddess for his crimes against the human realm. He’s a pagoda tree yao.”

“The leaf you found is his?”

Zhao Yuanzhou nodded. “I think so. I went to the Huaijiang Valley where he had been sealed, but Li Lun wasn’t there.” He removed something from his sleeve. “This is all I found beside the shackles which once held him.”

Zhuo Yichen took the toy rattle drum, turning it over in his hands. It was old and worn, the wooden handle rubbed smooth over time, the paint on the leather faded. He placed his palm over the one of the drums and quickly snatched it back.

“What is this?”

“A gift. Long ago, before he betrayed me and the Great Wilderness.” Zhao Yuanzhou took the rattle drum back and set it down carefully. “I wonder why he left it, if it carries so much of his power.”

“Where did he go?”

Zhao Yuanzhou shrugged and shook his head.

“You think he’s the one out there killing those people,” Zhuo Yichen said and Zhao Yuanzhou didn’t refute the statement. “Do you think he’s working with the Chongwu Camp?”

“Once I would’ve said no. Li Lun hates humans, but he hates humans who kill yao even more.” He paused and shrugged again. “But now? Who knows what kind of a deal he struck to be unsealed?”

“I thought nothing could break the Baize Goddess’ seal?”

“Very few things can. If it really is the Chongwu Camp behind all of this, they’re more creative and resourceful than I’ve given them credit.”

Zhuo Yichen nodded. “Fan Ying has been investigating yao fur and bones showing up on the underground black market. He suspects that the Chongwu Camp has been hunting yao for profit.” He proceeded to explain what they had discovered in the mortuary after Zhao Yuanzhou had left. He described the state of the burnt-out meridians in detail and Wen Xiao’s theory that the individuals had wielded a power so powerful it had killed them in the process. “What if the Chongwu Camp is going further than just selling yao parts? What if they’ve started conducting experiments? Is it possible for a human to wield a yao’s power?”

Zhao Yuanzhou shook his head slowly, but he looked thoughtful and didn’t immediately reply. Zhuo Yichen tried to make sense of all of the pieces of information they had both shared. The more he thought about it, the less he understood it all. There were too many missing details, too many unexplainable parts.

“We need to break into the Chongwu Camp headquarters,” announced Zhao Yuanzhou.

Zhuo Yichen looked at him. “That is a terrible idea.”

“Do you have any better ones?”

“How about you break into the Chongwu Camp and I stay here?”

“My Xiao Zhuo is still angry with me,” sighed Zhao Yuanzhou with a pout. He reached into his sleeve again, fluttering his eyelashes at Zhao Yuanzhou. “Luckily I stopped by Qianfeng Restaurant to buy you your favourite pastries and beg for your forgiveness.”

“Ridiculous,” Zhuo Yichen retorted with a roll of his eyes. But he still snatched the wrapped package from Zhao Yuanzhou before it could be taken back.

Chapter 4: In the Chongwu Camp's Dungeon

Two shadows slipped stealthily through the dark streets of Tiandu, keeping to small, narrow alleyways and avoiding the larger thoroughfares. Clouds obscured the moon and the stars, casting the entire city into gloomy obscurity. The two shadows went unnoticed by everyone.

Nearing a huge, walled complex with guard towers at regular intervals, the shadows slowed their rush and came to a halt, coalescing into two dark-clad figures. They wore matching black robes, tightly belted around their slender figures. Leather greaves encircled their forearms and a cloth mask covered the lower half of their faces. One wore his hair up in a tight top bun, the other had his half-pinned up, the rest tumbling down his back in a dark mass shot through with grey. 

Zhuo Yichen held up a hand to signal a stop. He slowly inched his head forward, peering around the corner of a building opposite the front gate of the palatial Chongwu Camp. The gate was closed of course; the street empty.

“Nothing unusual,” he whispered to Zhao Yuanzhou behind him. “We’ll go to the side gate.”

He darted back down the alley, Zhao Yuanzhou on his heels. A few turns later, just before reaching the main street again, he sprang up the wall of a building on the right side, then leapt across to the other side and clambered up to the roof of the building. Behind him, he heard Zhao Yuanzhou land lightly on the clay tiles. They soundlessly made their way across the roof, crouching down in the shadow of a sloping corner and peering across the street.

“There.” Zhuo Yichen pointed to a section of the wall a short distance from the side gate. A person with highly skilled qigong would just be able to make the leap from the building across the street, which was a large, several-storied tea house.

Zhao Yuanzhou nodded his assent. Zhuo Yichen had been very strict about the parameters of their stealth mission - absolutely no use of his yao powers as the Chongwu Camp likely had arrays set up to detect even the slightest use, and he had to follow Zhuo Yichen’s lead. The commander of the Demon Hunting Bureau hadn’t been satisfied until Zhao Yuanzhou had solemnly promised to abide by all conditions.

Even still, Zhuo Yichen was extremely nervous. Pei Sijing had reluctantly given them all the information she could about the layout of the complex and its security features, but she had no way of knowing whether her information was still accurate. Both she and Wen Xiao had objected to the mission but eventually agreed that they needed to find out more about the secret activities of the Chongwu Camp before more people died. The stakes were high, and so were the risks. Right now both Zhuo Yichen and Zhao Yuanzhou could very well be walking into a trap.

Zhuo Yichen led Zhao Yuanzhou across several rooftops until they reached the tea house. Everything had gone well so far, surprisingly so. Zhao Yuanzhou had kept up with him with ease, and seamlessly followed every direction. They were a well-matched pair - even Zhuo Yichen’s black stealth robes fit the yao well. Too well, Zhuo Yichen had thought when he first saw Zhao Yuanzhou wearing his robes; the yao made a very attractive figure. He pushed that thought aside again for the umpteenth time and forced himself to concentrate.

At this hour the streets were empty; even the last of the drunken revellers had made their way home. Everything seemed quiet inside the compound. Zhuo Yichen took a deep breath. Now or never. He looked over his shoulder to see Zhao Yuanzhou staring back at him over his mask. The yao reached out and clasped him on his shoulder in a sign of support and encouragement.

Rising into a half-crouch position, Zhuo Yichen took one final look and then sprang forward two, three quick steps before vaulting through the air across the street. He landed lightly on the parapet, immediately hunkering down out of the sight and looking around. Nothing moved. He looked up and signalled Zhao Yuanzhou, who immediately flew over, smoothly landing on the wall beside Zhuo Yichen. Zhuo Yichen reached out a hand to steady him even though it was hardly necessary.

They kept moving, scaling down the inside of the wall and then making their carefully around the edges of the compound, always keeping to the shadows. According to Pei Sijing, there was a private pavilion at the back of the compound which was always heavily guarded and where the Chongwu Camp’s mysterious masked advisor would reside. She had never been inside, but had seen things carried in and out, sometimes on cloth-covered stretchers.

They found the pavilion easily. It was enclosed by a low wall, two guards pacing back and forth in front of the wall. Zhuo Yichen studied the wall closely; it would be easy enough to jump over and avoid the guards entirely. Suddenly Zhao Yuanzhou grabbed his elbow and pointed at the top of the wall. Squinting, Zhuo Yichen caught sight of a fine gleaming thread as one of the guards paced below with a torch. A cleverly-strung alarm system awaited them if they tried breaking in that way.

The two exchanged a glance, wordlessly agreeing to switch to their backup plan. They split up, each approaching one of the two guards stealthily from behind. A stranglehold around the neck, a quick blow to the head, and quickly enough the two guards were propped up unconscious on either side of the gate. From far away, it looked like they were just casually resting.

Zhuo Yichen searched one of the guards and found a set of keys. Meanwhile Zhao Yuanzhou had used his dagger to pry open the gate. They slipped inside and dashed across the courtyard to the covered porch. No lights were on inside the building and a metal lock barred the door. Searching through the keys he had filched from the guard, Zhuo Yichen found the right one which unlocked the mechanism.

Zhao Yuanzhou pushed open the door, letting Zhuo Yichen step inside first. He followed, closing the door behind him. In the gloom of the room, Zhuo Yichen took out a small bamboo tube and blew on it; the exposure to oxygen caused the powder inside to ignite, providing just enough light to see.

“Look around,” he said, passing Zhao Yuanzhou another bamboo light stick. “We need to find out what the Chongwu Camp is up to, and if Li Lun is involved somehow.”

They moved around opposite sides of the room, inspecting the silk wall hangings and various vases and other artefacts decorating the space. Opposite the door was a large table covered in scrolls and papers; behind it the wall was covered in floor-to-ceiling shelves.

Zhuo Yichen rifled through the files on the desk which seemed to primarily pertain to supply orders and accounting. Zhao Yuanzhou sidled up beside him reading the tags on a bunch of stacked scrolls. He reached for several of the files and slipped them into his sleeve. The movement caused his long hair to fall over his shoulder.

“Why couldn’t you tie your hair up?” Zhuo Yichen grumbled. “It’s in the way.”

“Tie my hair up?” repeated Zhao Yuanzhou in a scandalized tone. “Do you know how much effort it takes me to maintain this look? Among yao it is considered extremely attractive.”

Zhuo Yichen failed to see the relevance. “Why do you care about looking attractive when you’re already married?”

There was no immediate response. Zhuo Yichen looked up to find Zhao Yuanzhou looking back at him.

“That’s a good point.” Then he winked. “But what if I want to look attractive for my husband?”

“Well, I don’t think you’re . . . .” Zhuo Yichen’s voice trailed off, snared as he was in Zhao Yuanzhou’s bright smile. He found himself unable to lie. “I don’t think you’re that attractive,” he managed to say.

The smile grew. “But you don’t find me unattractive,” he stated triumphantly. He leaned into Zhuo Yichen’s space. “I on the other hand find you very attractive.”

“Zhao Yuanzhou!” Zhuo Yichen hissed as his cheeks burned flaming hot. He took an abrupt step back and bumped into the shelf at his back, his elbow colliding with something made of solid metal. There was a light clunk, and then suddenly an entire section of the wall shifted inward.

“Oh look, a secret room,” Zhao Yuanzhou said blithely. “My Xiao Zhuo is both attractive and clever.” He ignored Zhuo Yichen’s muffled cough and placed his hand on the displaced section. He pushed and it rolled easily to the side without making a sound, revealing an open doorway which led down a set of stairs.

This time Zhao Yuanzhou went first and Zhuo Yichen followed. The air grew colder and damper the lower they went. Faintly at first, then stronger, a smell reached their noses. It held a metallic tang and a vague, charred smell. Zhuo Yichen recognized the smell of spilled blood, both old and new. He had already known the interrogation methods of the Chongwu Camp went to the extreme; now he discovered that someone had a fondness for burning flesh.

The crystal on the hilt of the Yunguang sword began to shine, stronger and stronger as they continued to descend. As they neared the bottom, it was almost rattling in its sheath, so strong was the gathered resentment.

The stairs ended and they found themselves in front of a large opening made of hewn stone. Light flickered faintly on the other side. They stepped through and found themselves in a large, underground chamber. Small candles burned in iron-wrought holders attached halfway up the pillars which ran down on either side of the middle of the chamber. The light cast everything into strange shadows, creating an eerie atmosphere. Hanging down from the ceiling above was an array of bells and talismans.

Zhao Yuanzhou stretched out a hand and the resentment lurking thick and heavy in the shadows flowed as malicious energy into his waiting palm. Zhuo Yichen saw his eyes glimmer red and two scarlet marks appear on his cheekbones as he absorbed the black energy. To his eyes, Zhao Yuanzhou suddenly appeared larger and more powerful in front of him. The yao had vaguely told him about his ability to absorb malicious energy and that the reason he drank the jade appointment was to regulate it and prevent it from controlling him. Yet seeing it for the first time was something else entirely. Fear gripped Zhuo Yichen. Then Zhao Yuanzhou turned his head to look at him. He smiled, and the terrifying image of the yao was gone.

Zhuo Yichen blinked to fully dispel the image and took a few steps down the middle of the room. On the other side of the columns, running the full length of the chamber were cells. More precisely, they were cages - thick steel bars welded together, an iron padlock on each opening, and dripping red marks on all the corners. A growing sense of horror rose up in Zhuo Yichen as he stared around him. The smell of blood and charred flesh was overwhelmingly strong down here and he had to fight down to urge to vomit all over the stained stone floor.

He looked back. Zhao Yuanzhou was standing just inside the entrance. His face was deathly pale.

“What is it?”

Zhao Yuanzhou grimaced. “I’ve seen a place like this before.”

“When? Where?”

Zhao Yuanzhou shook his head, refusing to answer. He suddenly moved forward, walking swiftly as he peered into every cell. He was almost at the end of the room when he stopped.

Zhuo Yichen heard him gasp, heard him whisper something, perhaps a name. He came up beside him and looked. At first, he wasn’t fully able to comprehend what he was seeing. Then his brain slowly processed what was before him.

There was no cell here, just an open area. The entire floor was scattered with broken branches and twigs. Some of the branches had extremely sharp ends which glistened in a different colour in the faint light. There was a large lump attached to the wall. Two chains and manacles fastened around what seemed like arms, although it was difficult to tell whether there was any flesh left at all on the mangled limbs. The rest of the lump was a mess of knotted hair, torn cloth and presumably the rest of the figure’s body.

Zhuo Yichen gagged. He turned away, sickened by the sight.

“If you’ve come to kill me, do it.” A voice croaked hoarsely.

Zhuo Yichen snapped his head back up. The body hanging on the wall was somehow still alive. Head raised defiantly, eyes burning with rage and hatred, Li Lun stared at them.

“Begging for death?” Zhao Yuanzhou’s voice was cold. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to break you like this.”

“Break?” Li Lun laughed, though it sounded more like he was choking. “Death would prevent them from getting what they want. If I die, I win.”

“Of course. Still thinking everything has to have a winner and a loser.”

“Don’t pretend you’re any different, Zhu Yan. I know you’ve been playing your games these past eight years. Is this your latest pawn?” His eyes swept over Zhuo Yichen with disdain. “A pretty little toy. How long until it’s discarded as well?”

Zhuo Yichen’s eyes flashed. Li Lun’s biting words had cut deep, echoing his own dark thoughts. He wanted to say something, but whether it was in his own defence or Zhao Yuanzhou’s, he wasn’t sure.

Before he could formulate a response, Zhao Yuanzhou spoke. “You don’t know anything, Li Lun. You think you do, but you always miss the bigger picture. Is that what got you working with the Chongwu Camp? I didn’t think you’d stoop so low as to cooperate with those responsible for killing and torturing yao.”

Several emotions flashed across Li Lun’s face - guilt, shame, regret - before settling back into a mask of placid fury. “Cooperating? That’s rich coming from you? Working with the Demon Hunting Bureau, whose commander you killed eight years ago with your bare hands?”

Zhao Yuanzhou’s eyes narrowed but he kept his composure. Zhuo Yichen was less successful in keeping his emotions in check. Li Lun noticed and gave him a second once-over. His lips curled into a cruel smirk.

“What did he promise you, in exchange for his help?” he taunted. “I’d be careful with Zhao Yuanzhou’s promises. They never mean what you think they do.”

“Enough.” Zhao Yuanzhou’s voice sliced through the air. “Leave him out of this.”

“No, I don’t think so. You clearly came here wanting something, as I doubt this is a rescue mission. I’ll give you what you want, but I want something in return.”

“What?”

Li Lun looked at Zhuo Yichen. “Who is this? And what does he mean to you?”

Zhuo Yichen heard Zhao Yuanzhou grind his teeth together in silent fury. He himself was curious, more than anything else. So this was the pagoda tree yao that Zhao Yuanzhou had been so close-lipped about.

He approached, slowly. Li Lun watched him warily. Closer, Zhuo Yichen could see that the extensive gashes on his arms had been made over an extended period of time. Some were dripping fresh blood, others had crusted over with dried blood. His dark blue robe hung tattered and torn from his muscular frame, barely concealing the bruises and wounds scattered over his torso. His face was mostly unmarred save for a few bruises on his jaw and cheekbones and spatters of dried blood which had never been cleaned; the skin around his eyes was wan and sunken. Yet despite the wounds and pitiful appearance, there was an aura of confidence and power around him that no amount of torture could dispel.

“I’m Zhuo Yichen, Commander of the Demon Hunting Bureau,” he stated quietly but firmly. “Zhao Yuanzhou is my husband.”

Li Lun’s eyes widened incredulously, clearly not having expected that response. Zhuo Yichen felt a tiny bit of satisfaction at having successfully shut him up. He pushed the doubts which Li Lun had raised with his barbed taunts aside; he would deal with that later.

Zhao Yuanzhou stepped up beside him, curling a proprietary arm around his waist. Li Lun’s eyes narrowed.

“You’re right. I did come here because I wanted something,” spoke Zhao Yuanzhou. He didn’t remove his arm from Zhuo Yichen. “Did you kill those civilians? I’ve seen bodies left in your wake before. I can recognize your mark.”

“Look closer then. Does it look like I’m in any shape to be roaming about this stinking human city?”

“They were strangled. With tree branches. And we found a pagoda tree leaf.”

“Am I the only pagoda tree yao?”

“The only one who likes to murder people.”

Li Lun smiled, a bitter, haunted smile that spoke more of pain than amusement. Blood dribbled over his lips, leaving a trail down his chin. “You haven’t changed, have you? Still only seeing what you want to see.” He paused, closing his eyes. His breathing was slow, unsteady. “I don’t know who unsealed me or what their connection to the Chongwu Camp is. They were masked. Their offer was . . . tempting. Although I should’ve know they wouldn’t keep their end of the bargain. No one ever does.”

Li Lun fell silent again. Zhuo Yichen found himself staring at the great yao, unable to feel any kind of satisfaction at his miserable state. Instead he felt only disgust and anger at those who would treat someone like this. It was not the yao, but those who had done this to him, who should be considered less than human. He started to doubt that Li Lun had been willingly involved in anything that had happened, as Zhao Yuanzhou seemed to stubbornly believe.

“They wanted my core,” continued Li Lun. Zhuo Yichen and Zhao Yuanzhou had to strain to hear him. “When they were unable to extract it from me, they drained me of my blood instead, and siphoned my qi. I saw them collect it in small vials and then transfuse it to some of their own. Those that didn’t die right away, went mad, their bodies unable to contain the yao power without a yao core.”

“They’re turning humans into yao?” Zhuo Yichen asked in confusion. It was hard to comprehend the depth if the depravity of the Chongwu Camp’s experiments.

“If they can make it seem like yao are killing humans, then they have their excuse to break the treaty and start hunting yao again,” said Zhao Yuanzhou thoughtfully. He and Zhuo Yichen shared a glance. “It’s a clever plan.”

“There has to be more to it than just that though,” Zhuo Yichen replied.

“The Baize Token,” Li Lun croaked. He smiled sardonically at Zhao Yuanzhou. “You’re not the only one who wants it.”

“Also?” repeated Zhuo Yichen. He looked at Zhao Yuanzhou who ignored him, locked in a silent conversation with Li Lun.

Just then, loud yelling and shouting was heard in the distance, followed by muffled banging sounds.

“Looks like we’re out of time.” Zhao Yuanzhou turned to Zhuo Yichen as he pulled out Ying Lei’s Shanhai portal from his sleeve. He extended a hand. “Shall we?”

“What about Li Lun?”

“What about him?”

“We can’t just leave him here?”

“Why not? One set of chains is as good as the next.”

The callous words stung. Zhuo Yichen found it hard to the reconcile the person standing in front of him now - hard glint in his eyes, dismissive sneer on his lips - with the person who had not too long ago spoon-fed him soup and tucked him into bed.

“No one deserves this,” he retorted stubbornly. “I’m not leaving him here to die.”

Zhuo Yichen stepped up beside Li Lun, a nervous shiver running down his back. Li Lun was watching him carefully, not a single expression showing on his face. Zhuo Yichen swallowed, then slowly reached out a hand to one of the manacles around Li Lun’s wrist. The rusted iron had rubbed the skin raw and was digging in painfully. He reached inside to his inner core, drawing on his qi and inner force and using the techniques which Zhao Yuanzhou had taught him. Frost bloomed on the manacle, spreading across it in silver patterns. He repeated the same for the other one and drew his sword, running his finger down the sharp edge of the blade. It sang in response, lighting up the entire cell with its light blue glow. Zhuo Yichen swung the sword, bringing it down on the two frozen manacles in quick succession. They snapped and sprang open. Freed, Li Lun fell forward, too weak to stand on his own. Zhuo Yichen caught him, awkwardly holding the slumped body of the yao against him.

The yells came closer, footsteps pounding down the stairs from the hidden door. Zhao Yuanzhou rolled his eyes and stepped towards Zhuo Yichen. He grabbed him by the elbow, frowning at the body of Li Lun in his arms.

“Let’s get out of here then,” he said, and activated the portal.

They had barely made it back to Peach Blossom Manor and Zhuo Yichen was already regretting taking Li Lun with them. The pagoda tree yao roused himself long enough to adamantly refuse being brought inside any of the rooms.

“Just dump him out onto the street,” Zhao Yuanzhou told him with a dismissive wave.

Li Lun made a snarling noise in the back of his throat. Zhuo Yichen shushed him and brought him to the vast garden in the back of the manor grounds. As soon as he set him down in a clearing, Li Lun drew up his legs into a cross-legged position. Roots sprang up from the ground around him and grew upward, encircling the yao until he was completely encased in a sphere of tangled roots.

Zhuo Yichen left him there to his own devices and went to find Zhao Yuanzhou. The yao was in his chambers. Standing outside the door, Zhuo Yichen hesitated. Since that disastrous evening of their wedding, he had never stepped back inside.

He heard a whispered command and the doors suddenly swung open. “Come inside, Xiao Zhuo,” he heard Zhao Yuanzhou say. “You’re always welcome in my room, no need to be polite and knock.”

Zhuo Yichen waited a few seconds until the heat on his cheeks dissipated. Composed, he stepped inside. Zhao Yuanzhou was sprawled at a low table, chin propped up on one hand, ink brush dangling from the other. He looked steadily at him and Zhuo Yichen felt his cheeks heat again as his steps faltered. He sat down stiffly across from Zhao Yuanzhou, back perfectly straight, robes arranged precisely around him.

“What happened between you and Li Lun?” he asked.

Zhao Yuanzhou scowled and sat up. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, I do.” Zhuo Yichen reached for the ink stone on the table and began to grind it. “Both of you are being ridiculously petty.”

“Petty? Petty!” For once, Zhao Yuanzhou’s outrage wasn’t feigned. “He betrayed the Great Wilderness, betrayed our oath! He deserves much worse than what the Chongwu Camp has done to him.”

“They took his blood and power and created half-human, half-yao monsters. It doesn’t seem like he got a good deal out of any bargain he might have struck."

“It seems to me Xiao Zhuo cares a great deal about a murderous great yao.”

Zhuo Yichen ground the ink stone more fiercely, annoyed at Zhao Yuanzhou’s deliberate obtuseness. This wasn’t about Li Lun being a yao or not. It was about the despicable experimentation of the Chongwu Camp. What he had seen in that underground chamber, as well as the dead bodies in the mortuary, sickened him. He would’ve saved anybody from being left alone and killed in that torture chamber.

“Ridiculous,” he muttered. “Who’s jealous now?”

Zhao Yuanzhou snorted. “As if I’d be jealous of that old rotten twig.” He flicked his hand dismissively and swiftly changed the topic. “Look at this.”

Zhuo Yichen carefully unrolled the bamboo scroll which Zhao Yuanzhou had stolen from the Chongwu Camp. The old bamboo strips had started to split and crack, and the ink of the characters was faded. With difficulty, he was able to decipher the seal script. “It’s about the Baize Order. Something about the balance between the power of the Baize goddess and malicious energy.” He looked up. “If the Baize Token has disappeared, does that mean that balance has been broken.”

Zhao Yuanzhou nodded. “While her seals have lasted, they’ve become brittle over time. Theoretically if someone were to redirect a surge of malicious energy into a seal, it would snap.”

“But you’re the only great yao who can wield malicious energy, are you not?”

“I am.”

“So that still doesn’t explain how somebody was able to break to seal. Especially if it really was someone from the Chongwu Camp.” Zhuo Yichen set the scroll down. “Although somebody has gone to a lot of trouble to research the Baize Order and I doubt it’s General Wu or Commander Zhen. They’re barely literate.”

“Does the Chongwu Camp keep a doctor on staff?”

“A doctor?” Zhuo Yichen frowned, thinking. “They’re a military division. It’s likely they have field physicians.”

“No, this person was highly skilled.” Zhao Yuanzhou showed Zhuo Yichen several heavily annotated files. “These look like treatises on how to treat yao. But the notes focus primarily on their yao cores and how their power manifests itself.”

Zhuo Yichen glanced over at the tiny characters written in the margins. “Does that say something about a transfer?”

“I think so,” replied Zhao Yuanzhou, squinting at where Zhuo Yichen pointed.

“So Li Lun was telling the truth. The Chongwu Camp has figured out how transfer yao power to humans.”

“Maybe,” conceded Zhao Yuanzhou unwillingly. “But it doesn’t seem to have been very successful if the yao power burnt through the hosts and killed them immediately after they tried to use it.”

“All the more reason to have gotten Li Lun out of there. Otherwise they might very well have been successful.”

“Alright, alright, fine. Zhuo daren’s sense of justice and righteousness has once again prevailed.”

“Just admit I was right.”

“Make me.”

Zhuo Yichen’s eyes flashed. “Stubborn monkey,” he muttered, knowing the insult would land.

It did. “Stop calling me that! I’m an ape, a white ape!”

“Then say I was right.”

They glared at each other across the table, neither giving ground. Finally Zhuo Yichen rolled his eyes and stood up, leaving the room. If Zhao Yuanzhou was thinking he could out-stubborn him, he was sorely mistaken.

He may have met his match in Li Lun, however. The pagoda tree yao was still in his protective encasement of tree roots the next day when Zhuo Yichen came to check on him. Following behind him was Bai Jiu, carefully keeping himself tucked behind Zhuo Yichen’s back.

When Li Lun did not reply to Zhuo Yichen’s inquiries, he drew his sword and ran his fingers down the blade. It shone icy blue in response as he carefully wedged it between two roots and summoned more of his qi. The air crackled and suddenly the roots were gone.

A furious Li Lun stood in front of him, indigo and gold swirling around him. Behind him, Bai Jiu shrieked.

“You’re not dead, then,” Zhuo Yichen commented, sheathing his Yunguang sword.

“You’re about to be,” threatened Li Lun, taking a step forward.

“Stop it!” a tiny voice shrieked. Bai Jiu’s head appeared from behind Zhuo Yichen. He was holding several silver needles in his hand which he stabbed forward. “If you do anything to Xiao Zhuo ge, you’ll regret it”

Li Lun raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t move. The yao power swirling around him dissipated.

“That’s better.” Feeling brave, Bai Jiu stepped forward, although one hand still clutched tightly to the string of bells woven into Zhuo Yichen’s hair. “You look terrible.”

“Don’t touch me,” growled Li Lun. He shrunk back from Bai Jiu, his eyes flitting to the silver needles the young doctor still held in his hands.

“The severe lacerations on your arms need to be stitched up and bandaged or you’ll die from blood loss.”

“I’d rather that than suffer anyone else laying their hands on me.”

Zhuo Yichen stepped in-between the odd standoff. “Thanks, Bai Jiu. Why don’t you go prepare some medicine instead.”

Bai Jiu nodded reluctantly and left, although he stopped once to look over his shoulder and fix Li Lun with a glare.

“He’s young but highly skilled,” Zhuo Yichen spoke, thinking that Li Lun’s reluctance to be treated by the doctor was due to Bai Jiu’s age.

Li Lun shook his head. “I thought you weren’t working with the Chongwu Camp.”

“Of course we’re not! Why would you think that?”

“Ask the little doctor.”

“Bai Jiu? Why would you think he has anything to do with the Chongwu Camp?”

“Those needles he held. They’re the same ones that the masked man always used. They’re used to suppress a yao’s power.” A haunted look passed across his face.

Zhuo Yichen wanted to loudly protest the accusations but he held back. He didn’t have the impression that Li Lun was lying. Several thoughts flashed through his mind - Bai Jiu, Jixin clinic, a doctor’s carefully annotated notes in the margin of a medical treatise, the Chongwu’s masked advisor, the masked person who unsealed Li Lun . . . was there a connection?

“Zhao Yuanzhou doesn’t trust you,” he said instead. Li Lun snorted. “He says you betrayed him.”

“Betrayed him?” Li Lun’s eyes flashed angrily. “He’s the one who teamed up with that Baize Goddess and betrayed me!”

“So now you’re trying to get back at him?”

Li Lun looked at Zhuo Yichen. “Is that what you think? That all this is a ploy to get revenge on Zhu Yan?” He began to laugh but it quickly turned into a cough. Blood spilled from his mouth. “That stupid monkey isn’t worth my time.”

“Then what are you trying to do?”

“You’re even less worth my time.” The disdain and dismissal was obvious in Li Lun’s voice. The pagoda tree yao turned and walked away from Zhuo Yichen. In a clear, sunny spot, he sat down and was instantly hidden by a thick tangle of roots again.

Knowing he wasn’t going to get anything else from the yao, Zhuo Yichen left the garden. He met Bai Jiu carrying a small jug of medicine. He shook his head; if Li Lun wasn’t going to accept any help, then he could just deal with his injuries on his own.

The behaviour of both of the yao was puzzling. Zhuo Yichen felt like there was a big misunderstanding underneath the years of hurt and pain which had built up between them. He didn’t want to get involved in their mess, yet seemed to be drawn in regardless.

“Xiao Jiu,” he awkwardly began a conversation with the young doctor as they walked through the manor

Bai Jiu looked up at him.

Zhuo Yichen swallowed nervously. “How did you learn to become a doctor? What made you work at the Jixin Clinic?”

“Oh, the clinic was my shifu’s! Once I completed my apprenticeship, he entrusted the clinic to me. He’s gone back to being a wandering doctor, travelling between Tiandu and the outlying villages.”

“Who is your shifu?”

“Wen Zongyu. Why, do you know him?”

Zhuo Yichen shook his head. “And your shifu taught you how to treat both humans and yao?”

“My shifu specializes in treating yao. Although he always said that while it’s hard to injure a yao, any injuries they sustain are much more severe than a human’s. Despite his knowledge, he wasn’t able to save many yao. But at least he made sure they died peacefully and painlessly.”

Zhuo Yichen didn’t reply. He tried to think of an innocuous way of breaching the next topic. “I found a file on treating yao in the Demon Hunting Bureau’s library,” he said casually. He removed the file from his sleeve and showed a page to Bai Jiu. “Do you think the handwriting is that of your shifu’s?”

Bai Jiu glanced at the characters and nodded. “It looks like it. But why would you have this in the bureau’s library.”

“I don’t know where it came from, I just stumbled across it and was curious.” The excuse sounded lame to Zhuo Yichen’s ears but Bai Jiu didn’t seem to notice. Thankfully Ying Lei sprang up to them at that moment and saved him from further awkwardness. When the little mountain god pulled Bai Jiu away with him, Zhuo Yichen slipped away, a thoughtful look on his face. Wen Zongyu - another piece of the puzzle.

When night fell, Zhuo Yichen once again joined Zhao Yuanzhou on the roof of his chambers. It had become a ritual between them, drinking together as the stars came out one by one and the moon rose high above them.

Zhao Yuanzhou nodded and hummed thoughtfully as Zhuo Yichen told him about his conversations with both Li Lun and Bai Jiu. “Wen Zongyu,” he murmured to himself. “What better disguise for experimenting on yao than a doctor.”

“We need to confirm that it’s him.”

“But whoever this masked advisor is, we can obstruct their plans by stopping them from using the Chongwu Camp any further.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Zhuo Yichen agreed. “I’ve spoken with Fan Ying and Situ Ming and they’ve agreed to formally bring all the evidence against the Chongwu Camp to court. They’re already writing their report.”

“Good.” Zhao Yuanzhou leaned back, his weight resting on one arm. He raised his flask to his lips and took a long drink.

Zhuo Yichen couldn’t help but follow the movements. His eyes caught on Zhao Yuanzhou’s pale, exposed throat, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. A single drop of the liquid hung on his lips, gleaming in the moonlight. Zhuo Yichen felt something curl deep in his gut. Desire, he recognized, shocked at the strength of the feeling. He looked away abruptly, draining the rest of his wine in one go.

“Xiao Zhuo?” Zhao Yuanzhou’s voice broke through the turmoils of his thoughts and feelings. The yao was looking at him in slight concern, unaware of what was going on inside Zhuo Yichen. “Everything alright?”

“Just thinking,” Zhuo Yichen waved vaguely with one hand. “There are still too many question marks. Not to mention that Li Lun said something about the Baize Token. I heard you’ve been asking questions about it as well.”

Zhao Yuanzhou stayed silent for a while. Then, “What do you know about it?”

Zhuo Yichen shrugged. “Not much. Wen Xiao said it disappeared when her shifu was killed. She said without it the balance between the human and yao realms is collapsing.”

“And the Great Wilderness is slowly being destroyed,” added Zhao Yuanzhou in a pained voice.

“What? How?”

“Without the Baize Token, the Divine Tree of Jianmu has withered and the Great Wilderness is turning into a barren wasteland. Once, a long time ago, when Li Lun and I were both young, we restored the tree with our power and swore an oath to protect the Great Wilderness.”

Zhuo Yichen shuffled closer to Zhao Yuanzhou. He couldn’t quite muster the courage to touch him, but hoped his closeness was comforting. “What happened?” he asked.

“I don’t . . . I don’t remember,” Zhao Yuanzhou said in pained admission. He drew up his knees and buries his face in his arms.

Sympathy rose up in Zhuo Yichen. The depth of Zhao Yuanzhou’s feelings surprised him; he had always thought him to be superficial and flighty, not capable of true emotion. But the depth of his pain was obvious, as was his love for the Great Wilderness. For a moment, Zhuo Yichen wondered what it would feel like to be loved like that.

He bumped his shoulder against Zhao Yuanzhou. “Once we’ve dealt with the Chongwu Camp, we can look for the Baize Token together. Or find another way to restore the Divine Tree.”

Zhao Yuanzhou looked up in surprise though watery eyes. “You’d do that? For me?”

“With you. As your wife. And friend.”

The last remark surprised both of them but neither said anything. Zhao Yuanzhou slowly rested his head against Zhuo Yichen’s shoulder. Zhuo Yichen looked down at the yao who had closed his eyes. With his eyes he traced the elegant curve of his eyebrows, the long eyelashes, the fine nose, the red lips.

Friend, he repeated to himself. For some reason, that word felt more significant than the vows he had taken to become Zhao Yuanzhou’s wife. There was something else just at the edges of his awareness, another unspoken word waiting to be admitted aloud.

Chapter 5: The Greater the Love, the Greater the Pain

Li Lun continued to stay in Peach Blossom Manor, much to Zhao Yuanzhou’s annoyance. The pagoda tree yao refused to move or speak with anyone. Every time Zhuo Yichen passed by, all he saw was a tangle of roots. Zhao Yuanzhou avoided him entirely.

“I didn’t think it was possible, but he’s even more annoying than Zhao Yuanzhou,” Zhuo Yichen complained to Wen Xiao.

Wen Xiao laughed, while Zhao Yuanzhou threw Zhuo Yichen an injured look. All three were sitting on the veranda which overlooked the garden at the back of the Demon Hunting Bureau. Zhuo Yichen and Wen Xiao were enjoying a freshly brewed pot of tea while Zhao Yuanzhou leaned lazily against the side of the low table and sipped from his gourd flask.

“I think I would like to meet Li Lun and ask him a few questions,” Wen Xiao remarked. “My files don’t have a lot of details on pagoda trees.”

“He’s a great yao,” Zhao Yuanzhou threw in. “Dangerous and unpredictable. He’s got his own ulterior motives for staying. It’s best you stay away from him.”

“The same could be said about you,” Wen Xiao retorted, arching an eyebrow.

Zhao Yuanzhou nudged Zhuo Yichen’s boot with his own underneath the table. “Xiao Zhuo, your husband is being bullied. Aren’t you going to defend him?”

Zhuo Yichen looked at him over the rim of his teacup. “And how will my husband thank me if I do defend him?"

Zhao Yuanzhou stared at him, eyes wide. “Xiao Zhuo, ah Xiao Zhuo. You’re getting bold. What happened to the blushing bride of our wedding night?”

Zhuo Yichen turned bright red. Wen Xiao snickered beside him. He should’ve known trying to bait Zhao Yuanzhou and give him a taste of his own medicine would backfire terribly. He gulped down his tea, scalding his tongue in the process. He barely noticed the heat; his cheeks flamed even hotter.

“Now who’s bullying who?” Wen Xiao scolded Zhao Yuanzhou. “I told you to treat your wife well.”

“Fine, fine. My apologies, Xiao Zhuo.” The seemingly sincere words were ruined by the accompanying wink. Zhao Yuanzhou grinned unrepentantly as Zhuo Yichen glared at him.

A servant came towards them and bowed. “Fan daren and Situ daren request your presence in the meeting hall.”

All three got up, Wen Xiao in the lead. Behind her, Zhao Yuanzhou and Zhuo Yichen walked side-by-side. The yao graciously extended his hand with another wink. Zhuo Yichen slapped him away.

“Is this how you treat your husband, Xiao Zhuo?” he asked in a whisper. “So cruel, to keep pushing me away like this.”

“I’m not pushing you away. You’re still right beside me,” Zhuo Yichen whispered back.

“Then why do you refuse to take my hand?”

“It’s not appropriate!”

“Don’t tell me Xiao Zhuo is afraid of a little physical affection?” Zhao Yuanzhou’s voice was low and sultry, wrapping around Zhuo Yichen like velvet.

“Of course not.”

“Prove it.”

“What?”

“Prove it. Take my hand.” Zhao Yuanzhou once again reached out his hand, his eyes flashing a challenge.

Zhuo Yichen hesitated for a brief second, then snatched the hand. He gripped it tightly, crushing Zhao Yuanzhou’s fingers so tightly the yao’s steps faltered. Zhao Yuanzhou gasped loudly and grimaced in pain. Zhuo Yichen began walking so fast he was all but dragging Zhao Yuanzhou along.

“Such a kind, soft-hearted wife. Very gentle and caring,” Zhao Yuanzhou mouthed off as they walked. “Such a loving touch, and - ouch! Stop pinching me!”

“Then shut up.”

“Okay.” A pause. “Whatever my wife desires, I will give -”

“I said, shut up.”

“Alright, alright.”

They reached the meeting hall where Fan Ying and Situ Ming waited for them. Both had looks of satisfaction on their faces. Pei Sijing was also in the meeting hall with them, though her expression was carefully blank as usual.

“Today in court the prime minister presented the findings of his investigation against the Chongwu Camp, based on our initial report we had submitted,” Fan Ying began after they had all taken a seat. “King Xiang has officially ordered the Chongwu Camp disbanded, and General Wu Yan and Commander Zhen Mei have been arrested.”

Situ Ming held up a silk scroll. “And King Xiang has restored the Demon Hunting Bureau to its full power and authority. He signed and sealed the edict this morning.”

Zhuo Yichen allowed himself a small, proud smile. All he had worked for, all he had sacrificed, had led to this moment. He felt someone reach for his hand which he had resting on the small table beside his chair. He glanced over at Zhao Yuanzhou, mirroring his proud smile. The yao squeezed his hand.

“You worked hard for this, Xiao Zhuo. Congratulations.”

Zhuo Yichen nodded, not removing his hand. Several waves of emotions swept through him. Having someone by his side in this moment of triumph felt . . . nice. For all of Zhao Yuanzhou’s annoying habits, he had stood by his side - supporting him, helping with the investigation, taking care of him. It was hard to remember that he had once considered the yao as his sworn enemy.

“What about this mysterious advisor of the Chongwu Camp,” Wen Xiao asked. “Did they find out who that is?”

Fan Ying shook his head. “No. And the study in the private pavilion was empty. All the scrolls and files had been removed.”

“As expected. This fight isn’t over yet,” Zhao Yuanzhou commented.

“Mhm. But we’ve won the first battle,” replied Zhuo Yichen.

Situ Ming insisted on pouring them all a drink of wine to celebrate. At one point, Zhuo Yichen took the wine pitcher and quietly snuck away. He walked quietly down the hallway, stopping in front of a candle-lit alcove. Memorial tablets were set up on the table. Zhuo Yichen took three sticks of incense and lit them. He bowed to the two central tablets and set the incense sticks upright in a golden bowl.

“Father. Ge.” He poured wine in front of their two tablets. “I did it. The Demon Hunting Bureau has been restored.” He paused and took a deep breath. “Although the Zhuo family name will end with me. I married . . . I was married away. The king ordered it. But he’s . . . he’s not that bad. Ge, I think you might have liked him, had you met under different circumstances.”

A tear rolled down Zhuo Yichen’s cheek. He dropped to his knees and kowtowed in front of the tablets. “I swore to avenge you. Never in my life have I not upheld a sworn oath, but now . . . I don’t know if I can keep it. I don’t know if I want to. So much has changed.”

He raised himself back up on his knees and wiped his tears with his sleeve. His eyes read the inscription on the two memorial tablets. Always, reading the characters had filled him with anger and a desire for vengeance. Now, all he felt was grief.

A hand touched his shoulder. He knew who it was without looking.

“May I?” Zhao Yuanzhou spoke softly, hesitantly. Zhuo Yichen looked up through tear-filled eyes. Something glimmered in Zhao Yuanzhou’s eyes as well. “I would like to pay my respects, if you allow me.”

Zhuo Yichen nodded, dismissing the thought that it may have been inappropriate. Zhao Yuanzhou was his husband, after all. The way their lives and pasts were intermingled was full of conflicting tangles.

He stood up to make room for Zhao Yuanzhou. The yao also lit three sticks of incense and set them in the bowl beside Zhuo Yichen’s. He knelt down where Zhuo Yichen had been, who stepped back to give him more privacy. The yao’s words were too quiet to be overheard.

They returned to the meeting hall, where the rest of the members of the Demon Hunting Bureau had joined the celebrations. Zhuo Yichen was passed from group to group; everyone wished to congratulate their commander in person and have a drink with him. Even Pei Sijing let a small smile slip as she was caught up in the raucous festivities. Just when Zhuo Yichen was starting to flag from everyone’s constant attention and crowding around him, Zhao Yuanzhou stepped up to him.

“Xiao Zhuo, let me take you home.” He wrapped an arm around his waist and guided him out of the meeting hall.

Wen Xiao stopped them at the entrance. Her eyes twinkled in approval. “Don’t forget, tonight is the lantern festival. And I heard both of you promised to take out Bai Jiu and Ying Lei. Pei jiejie and I will meet you later, okay?”

“Of course,” Zhao Yuanzhou replied. “We wouldn’t dare disappoint the kids, would we, Xiao Zhuo?”

Zhuo Yichen rolled his eyes fondly. The two younglings had been clambering for days about attending the lantern festival. Zhuo Yichen didn’t care for crowds and noise and would’ve been happy to stay at home, perhaps spar a round or two with Zhao Yuanzhou, have a drink with him on their rooftop, fall asleep in his arms . . . . But Zhao Yuanzhou had sided with Bai Jiu and Ying Lei, pestering Zhuo Yichen until he agreed they would all go out together.

When they arrived at Peach Blossom Manor, Bai Jiu and Ying Lei were already there, having fun in the kitchen cooking and making medicine. Zhuo Yichen left them under Zhao Yuanzhou’s dubious supervision, personally thinking the great yao should be the one being supervised.

He himself went to the bathhouse and then back to his chambers to get dressed. As he stepped inside, he looked around. They were his rooms, but somehow they had been personalized by Zhao Yuanzhou. One of the yao’s robes draped carelessly over a chair, several of the combs and hairpins scattered on the dressing table were his, and the mess of scrolls and papers on the desk had been brought in by him as well. Zhuo Yichen’s chambers at the Demon Hunting Bureau had always been stark and spartan, a place for him to sleep and nothing more. In contrast, Zhao Yuanzhou’s influence had made these rooms look and feel like a home.

Zhuo Yichen shook his head. Lately whenever he thought about Zhao Yuanzhou, his thoughts seemed to stray in one particular direction. He never dared indulge those thoughts for too long however, afraid of what might happen if he finally gave in to his deepest desires.

He stepped up to his wardrobe as he mentally ran through his different outfits, trying to decided what to wear. He wondered if he should ask what Zhao Yuanzhou would wear, to be able to coordinate colours and fabrics. Then his eyes caught on a new set of robes, hung up carefully on the door of the wardrobe. He fingered the fabric of the sleeve; Zhao Yuanzhou’s taste was impeccable as always. The inner robes in several different shades of blue were made of expensive silk. The outer robe was a brocade fabric of dark blue, embroidered all over with black, blue and gold threads. Tiny beads had been sewn into the embroidery; they caught the light and sparkled as Zhuo Yichen ran the fabric through his hands.

Just as he finished dressing, a knock came at the door. Before he could answer, Zhao Yuanzhou poked his head in.

“You’re dressed.”

Zhuo Yichen thought he heard the faintest hint of disappointment in his voice. He faced Zhao Yuanzhou, determined not to blush under his steady scrutiny. He looked over Zhao Yuanzhou in return, wearing matching robes.

“Beautiful as always,” said Zhao Yuanzhou as he came closer. Zhuo Yichen was thinking the same about him.

He led Zhuo Yichen to his dressing table and sat him down on a chair, reaching for a comb. Zhuo Yichen closed his eyes at the familiar, soothing movements. When he felt Zhao Yuanzhou start to gather the top of his hair to tie into a bun, he opened his eyes.

“Here, use this,” he said, pointing at a red lacquered box.

Zhao Yuanzhou opened the box, revealing a black leather guan and gold hairpin. “Oh,” he breathed, fingers trembling slightly as he reached for the guan. “You’ve never worn this.”

“I want to wear it now.”

“Alright.” Zhao Yuanzhou carefully set the guan over the top bun and slid the hairpin through to fasten it tightly.

Zhuo Yichen looked at his reflection in the oval mirror on the dressing table. Just over his shoulder, close enough that his cheek brushed Zhuo Yichen’s ear, was Zhao Yuanzhou. Their eyes met in the mirror and held.

“We should get going,” Zhao Yuanzhou murmured. “Bai Jiu and Ying Lei are already at the front gate waiting.”

Zhuo Yichen released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. His hands shook in his lap. He nodded and got up as Zhao Yuanzhou stepped back.

As they walked towards the front of the manor, they heard two voices yelling their names long before they stepped into the front courtyard.

“Finally!” Bai Jiu exclaimed. “What were you two doing so long?”

Ying Lei clapped his hands over Bai Jiu’s eyes, then his ears, then his eyes again. “You’re too young to know what they were up to, Xiao Jiu. Best not to ask.”

“Not ask about what?” Bai Jiu asked.

“What? Wait, that’s not . . . Ying Lei!” Zhuo Yichen glared at the young mountain god.

Zhao Yuanzhou chuckled throatily. “I’ll explain when you’re older,” he winked at Bai Jiu. With a wave of his hand, the gate opened. “Let’s go.”

Tiandu was ablaze with thousands of lanterns. They hung on tall wooden poles lining every street and street corner. Vendors showed off handheld ones in a variety of shapes, sizes and colours. Everywhere there was bright light and raucous noise.

Once Wen Xiao and Pei Sijing joined them, the six of them wandered through the streets for a while, enjoying the sights and eating their fill. After several hours, they found themselves sitting down on the steps lining a wide canal. Somehow Zhuo Yichen found himself sitting a step below Zhao Yuanzhou, leaning comfortably against his legs.

At one point, Ying Lei had scampered off and returned with several skewers of tanghulu. Now, Zhuo Yichen carefully picked off one of the candied hawthorns with his teeth as Zhao Yuanzhou held the skewer. The sweet sugar melted on his tongue and the bright red berry stained his lips. He reached for another one only to find the skewer out of his reach.

Glancing up at Zhao Yuanzhou, Zhuo Yichen met the yao’s stormy eyes. Dark and wide, they were looking at him as if Zhao Yuanzhou wanted to devour him. Zhuo Yichen wanted to look away but couldn’t. He was trapped as if in a spell. All he could do was watch as Zhao Yuanzhou pinched one of the hawthorn berries between his finger and thumb and pulled it from the skewer. He held it to Zhuo Yichen’s mouth. Zhuo Yichen opened his mouth without resistance, feeling Zhao Yuanzhou’s thumb brush his lower lip.

“Look! Fireworks!” Bai Jiu’s excited cry broke the spell that had ensnared Zhuo Yichen. He was finally able to tear his eyes away from Zhao Yuanzhou, although his lips continued to tingle.

Multi-coloured fireworks filled the sky. All around, people were gathering on the bridges along the canal and preparing to light the candle inside their paper lanterns. Wen Xiao gave everyone a small lantern.

“Make a wish,” she said, her eyes on Zhuo Yichen.

Zhuo Yichen stepped down to the edge of the water. He lit the candle and held the lantern as the air inside began to heat up. Zhao Yuanzhou joined him, holding his own lantern.

“They say couples who make a wish together will still be together next year to light another lantern.”

“And what is your wish?” asked Zhuo Yichen, his heart beating slightly faster.

There was a long pause. “I wish to restore the Great Wilderness and I wish for peace between yao and human realms.”

“Oh.” Zhuo Yichen couldn’t say why he felt oddly disappointed at the yao’s wish. Perhaps he had wished for something more personal? Something that spoke of him, of them?

“And you, Xiao Zhuo?”

What did he wish for, Zhuo Yichen thought. He wished the oath of revenge he had sworn didn’t weigh so heavily on him. He wished he could allow himself to feel for Zhao Yuanzhou what his heart wanted him to feel.

“Peace sounds good,” he said. “I also wish for peace.”

Together, they held out their lanterns which slowly began to rise from their outstretched hands. They watched them spiral higher and higher, soon lost to view amidst the hundreds and thousands of other lanterns launched across the city.

Zhuo Yichen snuck a glance at Zhao Yuanzou who was looking up at the lantern-filled sky with undisguised delight. The realization struck him like a blow - he had fallen for him. Somehow, slowly but surely, he had fallen in love with Zhao Yuanzhou.

He swayed on his feet and would have fallen into the river if Zhao Yuanzhou hadn’t steadied him with an arm around his waist. The yao smiled at him and Zhuo Yichen smiled back, the corners of his lips curling slightly. Zhao Yuanzhou’s eyes flickered down and Zhuo Yichen held his breath, his own eyes falling to the yao’s lips. Was it just his imagination or was Zhao Yuanzhou leaning closer?

The moment stretched between them a bit longer. Zhao Yuanzhou’s hand on his waist tightened and Zhuo Yichen felt his hands reaching up to clutch at the front of the yao’s robes.

“Ugh, Xiao Zhuo ge?”

Bai Jiu’s voice broke through the tension. Zhuo Yichen stumbled and almost slipped into the water. Zhao Yuanzhou laughed.

“Just making sure Xiao Zhuo doesn’t fall into the canal,” Zhao Yuanzhou explained to Bai Jiu.

Zhuo Yichen snatched his hands back from their tight grip on Zhao Yuanzhou’s robes. “I’m about to push you in instead,” he threatened.

Zhao Yuanzhou raised both hands in a gesture of innocence. “Have mercy on your husband, Xiao Zhuo.”

Glaring, Zhuo Yichen stalked back up the steps. How could he be in love with that ridiculous yao, he berated himself. Surely he deserved better for himself? But then he looked back over his shoulder and caught Zhao Yuanzhou staring after him. Immediately his heart skipped a beat or two, making him forget what he had just been thinking.

The six of them watched the lanterns for a little longer, before making their meandering way back home, splitting off one by one as they went to their own houses. Finally it was just Zhuo Yichen and Zhao Yuanzhou walking side by side. At some point their hands had reached for each other, fingers interlaced.

Zhuo Yichen woke the next morning, breathing heavily. Fuzzy dream images flitted away from his memory leaving him staring blankly around the room, wondering what exactly had happened in his dream to leave him waking up in such a state. The only thing he knew was that it had something to do with Zhao Yuanzhou. He resolved to avoid him for the next while, until his heart stopped fluttering every time he thought about him.

His eyes fell on the clutter spread across his table and fastened onto the toy rattle drum which Zhao Yuanzhou had said belonged to Li Lun. He had almost forgotten about it. Picking it up, he twirled it in his hand, then set out purposefully to the garden. The pagoda tree yao was still cocooned inside his shelter of roots.

“Li Lun,” Zhuo Yichen called. “Are you still alive?”

The roots slowly parted. Zhuo Yichen hadn’t known it was possible for tree roots to show attitude, but these ones certainly did in the way they slithered to the side. They revealed Li Lun sitting cross-legged on the ground, eyes closed, awash in gold and indigo. He looked better than when they brought him here; the wounds on his body were healing and he had regained some colour in his face. He continued to sit there without acknowledging Zhuo Yichen or opening his eyes.

Zhuo Yichen huffed and sat down across from the yao. He fell into a state of meditation, determined to sit and stay for as long as necessary.

“Why aren’t you going away?” Li Lun sounded peeved.

“Because I came to ask you a question.”

“Why?”

“Because there’s something I want to know.”

“And what makes you think I’ll answer?” Li Lun finally opened his eyes and was looking at him with a mixture of annoyance and disdain. His eyes widened as he saw the drum Zhuo Yichen held on his lap.

“That’s mine.”

“Answer my question and I’ll give it back to you.”

A pause. “Fine.”

Zhuo Yichen hesitated. “What do you know about the Baize Token?”

“Why are you asking me? One yao not enough for you?”

Zhuo Yichen bit back a retort and took a deep breath instead. He knew how to deal with ornery yao; in fact, he was married to one. “I asked Zhao Yuanzhou. He doesn’t remember what happened when the Baize Token disappeared.”

“You mean when he killed that goddess?”

“I did not!” Zhao Yuanzhou suddenly appeared from behind a tree, holding a half-eaten peach in his hand. “You’re the one who killed Zhao Wan’er! Don’t blame her death on me.”

Li Lun raised an eyebrow. “How could I have killed her? She sealed me. The instant those damned chains wrapped around my wrists, my power was restrained.”

“So then I suppose it wasn’t you either who opened Kunlun Gate and allowed yao to freely enter the human realm?”

“No, that wasn’t me. I always thought it was you when you murdered the vanguard of the Demon Hunting Bureau in front of the gate.”

“No! I didn’t . . . I don’t . . . I don’t remember.”

Neither of the had raised their voices but the air between them fair crackled with tension. Li Lun rose, using the advantage of his height to crowd against Zhao Yuanzhou.

“How can you not remember?” he hissed. “You stood by her side and refused to listen to me. You watched as she sealed me away. And then you summoned your malicious energy and killed her.”

Zhao Yuanzhou paled. “What? What malicious energy?”

“Are you stupid? Your malicious energy! I’ve never seen you summon so much. The air reeked with the stench and it scorched the ground for several paces around you. You probably could’ve blasted half of this city with that amount.”

Zhuo Yichen had been watching the exchange intently. Li Lun was very matter-of-fact, clearly confused by Zhao Yuanzhou’s lack of recollection. Meanwhile Zhao Yuanzhou had lost all colour in his face and he was swaying slightly. He looked in shock.

“That . . . that . . . no. That can’t be. I don’t . . . I don’t remember any of that.” He looked around wildly. “You’re lying! You’re lying to confuse me.”

Zhuo Yichen lay a gentle hand on his arm and glared at Li Lun who was looking at Zhao Yuanzhou with a murderous expression. “I’ve never known Li Lun to lie,” he said. It was true he hadn’t know the pagoda tree yao for very long, but he had always spoken the truth. Li Lun looked at him in surprise, as if not expecting him to speak up for him. “What do you do remember?”

“I . . . I remember Wan’er sealing Li Lun. And then . . . and then I was beside the Jianmu Tree and my hands were covered in blood.” Zhao Yuanzhou looked down at his hands as if expecting them to be dripping red. “I heard later that a yao had killed most of the members of the Demon Hunting Bureau at the Kunlun Gate. And I heard that the Baize Goddess was killed so I returned to bury her body and take her disciple to Tiandu. But I don’t remember what happened.”

“I believe you,” Zhuo Yichen told him. Hearing those words did little to ease the pain of his father and brother’s death. But it helped to know that Zhao Yuanzhou hadn’t willingly murdered them. He turned to Li Lun. “Do you remember anything else?”

Li Lun shook his head. “Once I was sealed, I was transported back to the Huaijiang Valley. The last thing I heard was the weird flute.”

“The Baize Goddess’ flute?” asked Zhao Yuanzhou.

“No, it sounded different. More crude, like each of the notes were off by just a little bit. The same flute that -” His voice cut off abruptly and his eyes widened as if he had just realized something.

“The same flute as what?” Zhuo Yichen repeated.

But Li Lun refused to answer, pressing his lips together and shaking his head.

Zhao Yuanzhou changed his line of questioning. “And the token? What happened to it?”

Li Lun looked at him in surprise. “You don’t know?” He laughed humourlessly. “All this time, I thought were just refusing to use it and do your duty to protect the Great Wilderness. And it turns out you didn’t know all along . . . .”

“Where is it? Who has it? Tell me!” Zhao Yuanzhou’s voice was tinged with an edge of urgency. “Speak, Li Lun!”

The pagoda tree yao smirked. “Only if you give me something that I want in return.”

“This isn’t something that can be bargained!”

“Oh, I disagree. Everything has a price, especially information.”

Zhao Yuanzhou snarled and would’ve leapt at Li Lun if Zhuo Yichen hadn’t held him back.

“What do you want?” Zhuo Yichen asked crisply. He glanced at warily at Zhao Yuanzhou, unnerved at the yao’s state of mind.

“Take me with you to the Demon Hunting Bureau.”

It was a simple enough request although it immediately set Zhuo Yichen on edge even more. What was at the bureau that Li Lun wanted?

“Fine.” As the commander, it was his right to make the decision. “All three of us will go to the bureau. And then you’ll tell us where the Baize Token is.”

“Deal,” said Li Lun. He reached out his hand and Zhuo Yichen gave him his drum.

Li Lun held it in front of him and made a series of complicated gestures. The drum started to glow and then a small dark blue orb flecked with gold rose up from it and towards Li Lun’s open palm. He made another gesture and the orb melded into his palm, disappearing from sight.

“Your . . . your core?” Zhao Yuanzhou looked at him in shock. “That’s why the drum held so much power, you had transferred your core into it. Why?”

Li Lun shrugged. “I may have made a deal with the person who unsealed me, but I didn’t trust them. Good thing I didn’t, for the next thing I knew I was chained up in that miserable place and they were trying to extract my core.”

Zhuo Yichen looked at Li Lun. Despite the casualness of his tone and body posture, there was an underlying rigidness which spoke to the pain and trauma he had undergone. Zhuo Yichen was realizing that there was also much more him than he let show. The uneasy expression on Zhao Yuanzhou’s face showed that he was thinking the same thing.

Together they walked to the Demon Hunting Bureau, all of them unwilling to let the others out of their sight. Wariness filled the space between them. At the bureau, Wen Xiao greeted them at the entrance, staring curiously at the odd trio.

“Alright, we’re here,” Zhao Yuanzhou snapped. “Now tell me where it is?”

It was he who had shown the most urgency in his steps along the way. He fair vibrated with a strange tension. Zhuo Yichen kept glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, wondering what was going on. First he had been hit with the shock of what happened that day eight years ago. Then the mention of the Baize Token had undone him further, almost sending him over the edge into a manic state.

Wordlessly, Li Lun pointed at Wen Xiao. “The goddess gave it to her disciple before she died.”

Wen Xiao gasped. “What is this about?”

Zhao Yuanzhou turned his head toward her, a red gleam in his eyes. He moved in her direction. “The Baize Token is with you.”

“Impossible, I would have known! Why haven’t I been able to wield it?”

“That doesn’t matter. If you can’t summon it on your own, I’ll force it from your body.”

Zhuo Yichen had had enough of Zhao Yuanzhou’s strange attitude ever since the topic of the Baize Token had been brought up. He seemed so unlike his usual self. More like . . . more like a great yao. More like all the nightmarish stories Zhuo Yichen had heard about Zhu Yan. Fear gripped his gut with icy claws.

“Zhao Yuanzhou,” he called. “Stop this. If Wen Xiao truly has the token, then we’ll find a way for her to be able to summon it.”

He stepped forward in-between Zhao Yuanzhou and Wen Xiao but the yao simply swept his right arm to the side. His yao power slammed into Zhuo Yichen who flew several paces across the room, slamming heavily into a stone column. He fell to the ground, spitting up blood and wheezing from the impact to his lungs. He barely felt the pain for the shock which coursed through him. Zhao Yuanzhou had actually hit him with the intention to hurt.

“Zhao Yuanzhou!” Wen Xiao repeated in a warning tone. She had drawn her dagger and held it ready. With her other hand she flung a handful of sparkling powder at the yao’s face.

Zhao Yuanzhou simply swept a sleeve across his face to protect himself and casually knocked the dagger aside. Red tendrils swirled around his body, amplifying his power. Wen Xiao gasped and scrambled backwards, tripping over the entrance stairs.

Slowly, Zhuo Yichen stood up. This couldn’t be happening, he was thinking desperately. He blinked, as if trying to clear the sight in front of him. It stayed the same however. Zhao Yuanzhou towered over Wen Xiao, reaching out a hand toward her. In horror, Zhuo Yichen watched as his fingers transferred into claws, the long nails the colour of blood. He leapt forward, sword drawn, flying straight towards Zhao Yuanzhou.

The yao turned towards him, his umbrella suddenly in his hand. He opened it, easily blocking Zhuo Yichen’s attack. As Zhuo Yichen met Zhao Yuanzhou’s bright, gleaming red eyes, he felt the felt the blooming warmth in his heart ice over. Where was the Zhao Yuanzhou he knew? Had that always been just a mask? Was this the true person beneath?

“What are you doing?” he asked desperately, his voice close to breaking. “Why would you attack Wen Xiao? Why are you fighting me like this?”

Zhao Yuanzhou’s voice was cold and emotionless. “I need the power of the Baize Token to restore the Jianmu Tree Divine Tree and save the Great Wilderness. Nothing will stand in my way.”

Zhuo Yichen just looked at him in shock and bewilderment.

Something like regret flashed across Zhao Yuanzhou’s eyes but it was too quick, too brief. “I have no choice, Xiao Zhuo. This has always been my goal and I will not be held back.”

“But what about . . .” Zhuo Yichen’s voice trailed off. He couldn’t hold back the tear which rolled down his cheek. “I said that I would help you find the token and restore the tree.”

“You can help by getting out of my way.”

“Do my words mean nothing to you then?” His frozen heart cracked. “Does our marriage mean nothing to you?

“Didn’t you yourself say it was just a marriage of convenience? You never wanted to be married to me anyway, no?”

The Yunguang sword clattered to the ground. Zhuo Yichen stared, feeling as if he had just received a physical blow. Inside his chest, his heart shattered. He felt like the biggest fool - he had actually fallen for a yao, a yao who had toyed with his emotions and made him feel things he had never allowed himself to feel before, a yao who could turn around and attack him without a second thought, a yao who would never return his feelings. Zhuo Yichen felt betrayed. Even worse, he felt betrayed by someone who had never been honest with him, meaning all the fault lay with him and his stupidity and gullibility.

Zhao Yuanzhou turned away from him, not sparing him another glance. He stalked back towards Wen Xiao who had recovered her dagger and was now standing tall and straight.

“Stop,” she commanded quietly.

“Without being able to summon the Baize Token, you have no power over me,” Zhao Yuanzhou replied.

“Is that so?” Wen Xiao shifted and placed the dagger across her own pale white throat. “One more step and I’ll kill myself. And the Baize Token will disappear again.”

Zhao Yuanzhou halted. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would. Either work with me to recover the token or I’ll end my life and you’ll have to start all over again to find it.”

A long, silent moment stretched between the three. Zhuo Yichen was proud of Wen Xiao - even without the token, she had the commanding aura of the Baize Goddess. He kept his eyes on her, unable to look at the other person in the room. The roaring pain in both his body and heart was making it difficult to concentrate and all.

Suddenly a strange vibration filled the air and the very air seemed to quiver. Zhuo Yichen smelled something metallic as the vibration began to ring in his ears. Looking around, he noticed that Li Lun had disappeared

Zhao Yuanzhou noticed it as well. “Where’s Li Lun?” he barked, his attention on Wen Xiao momentarily wavering.

The ringing seemed to be coming from the inner courtyard but all three hesitated to move. In the end it was Wen Xiao who broke the stalemate. Her dagger still at her throat, she walked out of the hall towards the courtyard. Zhuo Yichen followed, keeping sight of Zhao Yuanzhou in the corner of his eye.

The centrepiece of the inner courtyard was a large marble fountain. In the basin, a miniature replica of the Demon Hunting Bureau lay submerged beneath the water, home to the koi fish which lazily swam around the little buildings. Normally the water lay calm and still, bubbling slightly in the middle where fresh water emerged from the spring below. Now, the water churned and a hazy mist surrounded the fountain. At the edge of the fountain stood Li Lun, one arm outstretched as if reaching for something.

Zhuo Yichen gathered his strength, pushing away the pain. He rushed down the stairs, not entirely comprehending what was happening but knowing he had to stop Li Lun. As he approached, however, the yao thrust out his other hand toward him, and a surge of indigo power slammed into him and knocked him down. Struggling to get back up, Zhuo Yichen suddenly felt his inner core twist violently. He lay a hand on his lower abdomen, feeling his qi and inner force roiling in agitation. His meridians began to vibrate at the same frequency as the ringing which still permeated the entire courtyard.

As he watched, a multi-coloured glimmering stone rose up out of the water from the centre of the fountain. It was about the size of his fist, slowly turning in the air as it hung suspended in the midst of the swirling water.

“What is that?” he heard Wen Xiao ask in the background. A dull throbbing had begun to pound in the back of Zhuo Yichen’s head and he tasted blood on his tongue.

Zhao Yuanzhou strode up to the rim of the fountain, standing across from Li Lun. He uttered one of his one-word spells and the water sank back down into the fountain with not a ripple of disturbance. The stone continued to hang suspended in mid-air, its shiny surface refracting the light and casting dancing light patterns all over the courtyard.

“What do you want with this?”

Li Lun sneered as he met Zhao Yuanzhou’s gaze. “Do you think I’ve just been rotting away in that cave for the past eight years? I’ve been gathering information, cultivating informants . . . and found out about this.” He gestured at the stone. “The legendary Five-Coloured Stone. Passed down the line of Bing Yi’s descendants, generation after generation.”

Zhuo Yichen shook his head in an attempt to think straight. His core was still throbbing, somehow reacting to the stone. He was so confused. Confused and hurt and angry. Too much was happening.

Zhao Yuanzhou frowned. “I thought Bing Yi used the Five-Coloured Stone to repair the sky and bring back the stars. How can it still be intact?”

“The story only says that Nuwa gave him the stone, not that he used it,” corrected Li Lun. “Whatever happened, the stone is still here and I’m going to use it to repair to the Jianmu Divine Tree.”

“That’s what this is about?”

“Of course. One of us still remembers the oath they swore.”

“Don’t speak to me about the oath you broke first!” Zhao Yuanzhou’s voice rose. “All I’ve been doing all these years is trying to find the Baize Token after it disappeared. Everything I’ve done has been about that oath!”

Li Lun laughed scornfully. “So have I. Baize Token, Five-Coloured Stone - what’s the difference? You and I are the same, Zhu Yan.”

“No, we’re not! And we never will be!”

Both were shouting now. Zhuo Yichen clapped his hands over his ears at the clamour but could still hear everything.

Li Lun laughed again. “No? Still denying the yao within you? Still afraid of the power you wield?”

“Because that power kills!” Anguish coloured Zhao Yuanzhou’s voice.

“It’s a part of who we are. I don’t shy away from who I am, Zhu Yan.”

“You’re wrong. It doesn’t have to be used that way. We don’t have to be like that.”

“I’m wrong? How is what you’re doing right now any different?” Li Lun pointed straight at Zhuo Yichen. “Look at him! This is you’re doing, Zhu Yan. You’ve broken his heart, just like you broke mine. Because you only care about what you want, disregarding everyone around you!”

Deafening silence fell after Li Lun’s outburst. Zhuo Yichen stared from one yao to other. It was clear that Li Lun hadn’t meant to say as much as he did. Zhuo Yichen recognized the pain in those words, recognized the feeling of having suffered from Zhao Yuanzhou’s careless cruelty.

Slowly, Zhao Yuanzhou turned his head and looked at Zhuo Yichen who was on his hands and knees. His head was still throbbing, the pain distracting him from the empty feeling in his chest. Wen Xiao was now kneeling at his side, concern and worry written on her face.

Zhuo Yichen was unable to read Zhao Yuanzhou’s expression. He also didn’t care what the yao was thinking; all he felt was mindless fury. At Zhao Yuanzhou, at himself, at everything that had led them to this moment. He felt like he was looking at a stranger.

Struggling to his feet, Zhuo Yichen slowly got up, his legs as heavy as lead, pain coursing through him.

“Get out.”

“Xiao Zhuo, I -”

“Out!”

Several things happened all at once. The Five-Coloured Stone began to fall and both Li Lun and Zhao Yuanzhou sprang towards it. Anger coursed through Zhuo Yichen, stronger than the pain, more powerful than his heartbreak. He unsheathed his sword and slashed the air; he didn’t hold back his qi, uncaring whether or not the surge would drain him entirely. The blast knocked both of the yao halfway across the room and sent the stone spinning upwards.

Then, as if in slow motion, the Five-Coloured Stone dropped. It shattered in a blinding flash of light, hundreds of pieces scattering across the ground. The ringing was back, louder this time, emanating from a single drop of blood which hovered over the shattered pieces of the stone.

As Zhuo Yichen stated, the drop of blood suddenly flew straight toward him. He felt a strange sense of recognition, and as if another piece of the puzzle slotted into place. Then a wave of blinding pain hit him and he knew no more.

Chapter 6: Cold as Ice

Everything was pain. His blood burned, leaving behind scorched trails in his veins and arteries. His meridians were also on fire - pulsing with a strange power he was unable to control. It mingled with his qi and inner force, wrecking havoc on his inner core which couldn’t contain the new influx. At the same time, his entire body felt frozen, crackling like ice about to break.

Zhuo Yichen couldn’t move his limbs, couldn’t open his eyes. Dimly he heard voices but he couldn’t make out what they said. He felt himself lifted up in a pair of powerful arms. He should recognize that embrace, a part of him knew. But the greater part of him fought back against acknowledging who it was. That way lay even more pain.

At times he felt like he was floating, born along on a powerful current which completely enveloped his senses. Other times he felt like he was suffocating. Icy claws gripped at his neck, cutting off his breathing, cutting off his will to live.

“No!” he gasped, the sound tearing through his throat. He coughed and spat up blood.

Immediately someone was by his side, wiping his chin and mouth with a wet cloth.

“Sit up carefully, don’t try to talk. I’ll get some water. Don’t worry, Xiao Zhuo ge, I’ve saved you once, I can definitely do it again.”

Zhuo Yichen cracked an eye open, but the candle-lit room was too bright. It hurt his eyes, not to mention that everything was tinged in a strange shade of pale blue. He closed his eyes again, sitting back against the cushions which Bai Jiu had piled behind his back. The young doctor was back with a shallow bowl of water and medicine, which he slowly lifted to Zhuo Yichen’s mouth.

Zhuo Yichen sipped carefully, but most of the liquid spilled down his chin instead. He could barely swallow. His throat, his entire neck still felt strangely constricted. He reached up to his neck with one hand, but Bai Jiu snatched it away.

“Don’t touch. The marks . . . don’t touch them.”

Zhuo Yichen didn’t know what he was talking about, but already his mind was slipping back into oblivion. He was so tired. And still everything hurt.

The next time he awoke, Wen Xiao was at his side. She smiled at him through her tears. “You’re awake. How do you feel, Xiao Zhuo?”

“Burning. But ice cold.” It hurt to talk, but Zhuo Yichen pushed on. “Like those bodies. With the burnt meridians.”

Wen Xiao reached for his hand and held it tightly. “Your body absorbed a drop of Bing Yi’s blood. That power is now coursing through your meridians, but without a yao core to regulate it, it will keep burning through your body until you’re nothing but a burnt husk.”

Her words made no sense. Zhuo Yichen tried to remember everything that had happened, but his recollections were all piecemeal.

“Li Lun.”

“What?”

“I want to speak with Li Lun.”

“Okay. He’s still hovering around the bureau somewhere, making everyone nervous. But I’ll get him for you.” Wen Xiao hesitated. “Zhao Yuanzhou is also here.”

A violent shake of his head. “No. Not him.” Zhuo Yichen could barely tolerate hearing his name. Those memories were painfully clear. “I want to talk to someone who won’t lie to me.”

Wen Xiao nodded slowly. She looked like she was about to say something else but refrained.

Li Lun did come, although he stood several feet from the bed, arms crossed tightly across his chest. He glowered at Zhuo Yichen from beneath his dark eyebrows, the rest of his expression revealing nothing.

Zhuo Yichen coughed to clear his throat. “What happened?”

“You’ve turned into a yao.”

“How is that even possible? Wen Xiao said I absorbed a drop of Bing Yi’s blood. But Bing Yi was a human. He was a human who defeated the yao monster Ying Long.”

Li Lun smiled coldly. “I think you’ll find a lot of your human legends are lies. Bing Yi was a yao, who was turned into a human by the goddess Nuwa. As his descendent, you were receptive to his yao power, but need a yao core to properly integrate it into your body.”

“So I’m a yao now?” Zhuo Yichen whispered in disbelief.

“Not fully. Right now you’re no better than those Chongwu Camp guards used as experiments. And you’ll end up like them too very soon.”

“How . . . how do I get a yao core then?” Never in his life would Zhuo Yichen have thought he would ever ask that question.

Li Lun didn’t respond right away. Zhuo Yichen struggled to sit up in bed. He scrabbled at the sheets to find purchase, falling sideways. He coughed, spitting up blood and splattering the sheets. He was about to fall completely off the bed when Li Lun appeared at his side. He reached out a hand and yanked Zhuo Yichen back upright.

“Weak,” he said scornfully, and stepped back to his previous spot.

“Do you know how I can get a yao core?” Zhuo Yichen repeated, after he had stopped coughing. Blood ran down his chin.

“No. Not really. Maybe.” Li Lun rolled his eyes when Zhuo Yichen glared at him. “I’m not sure. I’ll . . . see what I can do to help. But only because I owe you one for getting me out of the Chongwu Camp. A life for a life.”

Zhuo Yichen nodded, then fell back down onto the bed and closed his eyes. He slipped back into a restless sleep, filled with nightmarish images of himself turning into a yao and hurting those closest him. Zhao Yuanzhou appeared often, always cloaked in swirling red with gleaming eyes, clawed fingertips and fanged teeth. In his brief moments of lucidity he tried to cultivate his qi in order to realign his meridians and strengthen his inner force. The yao power swirling through him resisted his efforts, however, and he didn’t have the right technique to wield it. Every time he tried to wrest it under control, his inner core exploded in pain and his head began to throb violently.

At one point, he could hear several voices arguing through the haze of pain.

“He’s going to die. His human body cannot wield the yao power.”

“He’s not going to die! Stop saying that! At least I’m trying to save Xiao Zhuo ge, you’re just making everything worse!”

“Stop it you two, arguing isn’t going to make things any better. Bai Jiu, we’ll try the new medicine you’ve created and see if it works. Zhao Yuanzhou, he’s not going to want to see you when he wakes up. I suggest you leave and go back to your prison cell.”

Zhuo Yichen cracked his eyes open, focusing on Wen Xiao. “Water,” he croaked.

She was by his side immediately, as was Bai Jiu. Both fussed over him for a long moment, until he had managed to drink half a bowl of water and sit up. Zhuo Yichen caught sight of Zhao Yuanzhou behind them. The yao had not left the room; instead, he was looking at him with a mixture of wariness and guilt.

“Xiao Zhuo.”

Zhuo Yichen turned his head to look away from him.

“Xiao Zhuo. I know you’re mad, I know you hate me right now, but will you please let me help you?”

“I don’t need your help."

“You need to circulate the yao power within your body. I can teach you a technique. It will keep you alive until we can get you to the burial grounds of the Bing Yi clan.”

“Burial grounds?” Zhuo Yichen turned back to face him. “Why do we need to go there?”

“Li Lun came to speak with me. It’s our one chance to get you a yao core.”

“How?”

“There are rumours and legends about those burial grounds. We think there might be something there that will help.”

“You think?” Zhuo Yichen’s voice rose angrily. “The last time you thought you were doing the right thing you attacked me and almost killed Wen Xiao.”

“I . . . I was wrong.” Throughout their exchange, Zhao Yuanzhou had come closer to the bed, watched warily by Bai Jiu and Wen Xiao. The latter had drawn her dagger. Now Zhao Yuanzhou dropped to his knees beside the bed. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Zhuo Yichen squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to hear any apologies. “But you did.” A wave of destabilizing pain swept through him and he groaned. It was getting worse, he know. He didn’t know how much more he could take.

“Fine,” he bit off, that one word costing him more than he wanted to admit. “Show me the technique.”

“Okay,” Zhao Yuanzhou replied softly and stepped up to the bedside. He reached and pressed three fingers across the pulse points at Zhuo Yichen’s wrist. Zhuo Yichen flinched at the touch. “You won’t be able to circulate your yao power in the same way you previously cultivated your qi. Try this - stabilize the power along your meridians, remove any dust and excess. Then let it flow naturally and don’t fight it.”

Entirely too conscious of the nearness of Zhao Yuanzhou and the press of his fingers, Zhuo Yichen nevertheless concentrated as best as he could and followed the yao’s instructions. The ice cold burning feeling gradually dissipated as he coaxed the yao power to integrate with his qi and circulate along his meridians. He took a deep breath in relief as the all-consuming pain finally lessened. In its place, he felt the gaping hole of where his heart had been.

He didn’t say thank you. Just removed his hand away from Zhao Yuanzhou. The yao didn’t say anything either. They stared passed each other for a moment. Something caught Zhuo Yichen’s eye.

“I want it back.”

“What?”

“The hairpin. The one I gave you. Give it back.”

With trembling hands, Zhao Yuanzhou reached up and drew the hairpin free from his hair. He gave it back to Zhuo Yichen then silently retreated.

There was one more thing Zhuo Yichen had to say to him. “I will ask Fan Ying to draw up divorce papers. The two of us are done.”

Zhao Yuanzhou looked at him in shock. He opened his mouth, swallowed, and shut it. His shoulders slumped as he looked down at the ground. “Alright. If that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

Zhao Yuanzhou didn’t say anything else. He simply turned and left the room. Zhuo Yichen didn’t spare him another glance. He was still so hurt and angry by everything that happened.

Wen Xiao didn’t comment, but she did tell Zhuo Yichen that Zhao Yuanzhou had apologized to her and taken it on his own initiative to lock himself up in the cells of the Demon Hunting Bureau. Only when he had somehow sensed Zhuo Yichen’s increasing pain had he appeared in his room to help. He seemed to regret what he had done. Zhuo Yichen didn’t say anything to that. He didn’t want to think about Zhao Yuanzhou; he wanted nothing more to do with him entirely.

Several days later, a group of people appeared on the slopes of Kunlun Divine Mountain before the entrance to the Kunlun Gate. The atmosphere was tense and awkward between them. In the middle, Zhuo Yichen was supported by Wen Xiao. He was doing slightly better, but he knew it was only a momentary reprieve. Bai Jiu hovered nearby, almost collapsing beneath the weight of his medicine box; he had crammed it full with every single herb and medicinal ingredient he could possibly think of. Pei Sijing took up the rear, hand on her bow and eyes constantly scanning their surroundings. On either side of the group, as far away from each other as possible, walked Zhao Yuanzhou and Li Lun. The two yao had seemingly settled on an uneasy truce between them. Oblivious to it all, Ying Lei skipped ahead, regaling everyone with stories of his youth growing up on the mountain.

Ying Lei’s grandfather, Ying Zhao, met them at the bottom of the steps. Snowflakes were falling around, coating everything in a layer of sparkling white. Zhuo Yichen would have liked to pause to admire the scenery. Instead, he huddled deeper into his fur-lined cloak. Before, he had always borne the cold well; now he was shivering and freezing in the cool mountain air.

“It’s been a while since I saw you two young rascals here.” Ying Zhao looked at the two yao, the fondness in his voice belying the gruff expression.

Zhao Yuanzhou and Li Lun exchanged an awkward glance and murmured a greeting to the old mountain god. Ying Zhao warmly bade everyone else welcome and then focused on Zhuo Yichen.

“Zhuo Yichen.” Ying Zhao looked him up and down, eyes narrowing in scrutiny. He nodded. “Bing Yi has chosen well. A worthy descendent to wield his power and sword. I wish you success on your mission. The way to the burial grounds of Bing Yi’s clan is easy to find, though I cannot guarantee what you’ll find inside.”

Zhuo Yichen nodded, although the words did little to encourage him. In truth, he was terrified. He didn’t want to be a yao, didn’t want to become the very thing he had spent his whole life fighting. He just wanted to get better so he wasn’t so dependent on everyone else. He hated being this weak and powerless.

An argument erupted around him as everyone else fought to come along. In the end, Ying Zhao had to step in and settle the matter. It was decided that only Zhao Yuanzhou and Li Lun would go along with Zhuo Yichen. Everyone else frowned unhappily as they sullenly agreed to wait for them at Kunlun Gate.

Normally Zhuo Yichen would’ve stepped in as the commander of the Demon Hunting Bureau and made the decision himself. But he had been doubting his qualifications as leader, doubting himself, ever since his change. The stares he received from the bureau personnel haven’t escaped him. The first time he looked in the mirror he almost threw it to the floor and smashed it. His icy blue eyes unnerved him, the marks on his neck like spreading cracks made him want to turn away. He had started wearing high-collared robes or fur-lined cloaks to hide the marks. He sometimes thought about what he would do if they truly were successful in this mission and he obtained a yao core. Would he even return to Tiandu? Or would he spend the rest of his miserable life wandering the Great Wilderness in loneliness?

As Ying Zhao had promised, the way to the burial grounds of the Bing Yi clan was easily travelled. Zhuo Yichen hadn’t said anything about Zhao Yuanzhou coming along but he continued to ignore him. He would tolerate his presence for the moment, until it was all done and over with. And then Zhuo Yichen dissolve the marriage and move on with his life, forgetting all about him. The pain and anger had receded slightly, replaced by a dull numbness. Aside from the bone-biting cold, Zhuo Yichen hardly felt anything at all.

Having arrived at the burial grounds, they descended into a cavern-like tunnel hewn from the icy stone. At first the way was narrow, but then it began to widen. Set into the tunnel were alcoves, each with a name carved onto a tablet. Zhuo Yichen recognized some of the names of his ancestors and extended family. The clan elders were responsible for the burial ceremonies of the clan; he himself had only heard vague hints about this place. Even within the clan it was shrouded in mystery.

He passed two alcoves not yet covered in a sheen of ice. The engraving on the stone tablet was still fresh and sharp. Seeing the carved names roused him momentarily from his numb state. He stopped and dropped to his knees in front of the two alcoves, disregarding the wet cold that immediately seeped into his robes from the snow on the ground. He just knelt there, not saying a word, not knowing what to say. Several tears trailed down his cheeks.

After a while, he stood back up and continued walking. The two yao fell in behind him. Out of the corner of his eye he had seen Zhao Yuanzhou reach for him as if to help him up and steady him, but he had dropped his arm of his own accord. They finally reached an immense cavern. Huge icicles extended down from the ceiling above. Their breath frosted visibly with each exhale.

A stone staircase led up to an elevated rise at the opposite end of the cavern. Two elaborate tombstones had been constructed on the rise, the years having smoothed the edges of the stone and obscured the inscriptions. The characters were only barely legible.

“Bing Yi,” read Zhuo Yichen, recognizing the name of his ancestor, though worn with age.

“And Ying Long,” added Zhao Yuanzhou, reading the second inscription.

“Why are they buried together?” asked Zhuo Yichen with a frown.

He stepped closer, looking at the two matching tombstones. Hadn’t they been mortal enemies? A light blue gleam seemed to emanate from Bing Yi’s tombstone and he reached out a hand to touch the top of it.

“Don’t touch anything!” he heard Li Lun warn loudly in the background but his fingers were already brushing the stone.

He felt, rather than saw, someone reaching for him in the same instant that a blinding flash of light erupted in the cavern. When he opened his eyes, he was standing in a dream-like, hazy landscape. It was a memory, he realized. Bing Yi’s memory embedded into his tombstone.

“This is fun.” A flippant voice remarked beside him.

He spared an icy glare for Zhao Yuanzhou but refused to speak to him. Gathering his heavy cloak more tightly around him, he picked a direction and started walking.

“Xiao Zhuo,” Zhao Yuanzhou called after him and hurried to catch up. “Xiao Zhuo, can you at least just talk to me?”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“But I do.” Zhao Yuanzhou spoke softly, pain evident in his voice. “I want to apologize.”

“No need. I won’t forgive you.”

Zhuo Yichen’s cold reply silenced Zhao Yuanzhou. They kept walking in silence, Zhuo Yichen always a stride or two ahead. After some time, they heard voices in the distance, then vague scenes began to appear in the haze all around them. The more they watched, the clearer the images of the memory came.

They both came to a halt and looked at the scene in front of them. They watched as Ying Long sheared off his own horns with his talons and ripped out a rib bone. As he bled, Bing Yi forged the Yunguang sword, his own tears mingling with his power and seeping into the blade. They kept watching as the two best friends and lovers danced their final dance together, ending with the Yunguang sword stabbed through Ying Long’s chest. The great dragon exhaled his last breath, and the essence of his form and power spiralled up to the sky where it became the first shining star in the firmament. By and by, other stars appeared as the torn sky was repaired and the world restored to its whole form.

Zhuo Yichen couldn’t tear his eyes away from his ancestor, who knelt inconsonantly on the ground, still holding the bloody blade of his sword. He stood there staring at a weeping Bing Yi until the image once again blurred and grew hazy. Everything turned white and suddenly they were back in the cavern.

Li Lun was standing in front of Ying Ling’s tombstone. “I see,” he said quietly.

A deep voice suddenly echoed in the vast space. “Now you all know the truth of Bing Yi and I. It was love that bound us, not hatred. I willingly sacrificed my life to save the world, and Bing Yi sacrificed his yao power.”

The words rang through Zhuo Yichen, making him question everything he had ever known and believed. How had the truth become so warped that his family looked up to Bing Yi as a great yao slayer and prided themselves on being yao hunters? Through the memory he had felt the depth of love both Bing Yi and Ying Long had had for the Great Wilderness and for each other.

He felt a sob work itself up his throat. For a brief moment, he had thought that perhaps a similar love was unfurling between himself and Zhao Yuanzhou. But that hope had been cruelly dashed by Zhao Yuanzhou’s betrayal. Even though he had tried to apologize, Zhuo Yichen felt like the chasm between them now was too great to ever be bridged. He furiously wiped away the tears in the corners of his eyes. He would not spare another tear for Zhao Yuanhzou. He would not cry at the love that might have been.

Putting all those thoughts aside, Zhuo Yichen stepped up to Ying Long’s tombstone and bowed his head. “Qianbei, Bing Yi’s last drop of blood is now flowing through my veins, and his power through my meridians. But I need a yao core. Can you help?”

He sensed something wrap around him, prodding and prying at his innermost secrets. “You have suffered much, little dragon,” Ying Long’s voice sounded again. “Do not hide yourself away from your feelings. Although it hurts much to feel, it hurts even more to not feel at all.”

Zhuo Yichen felt himself unable to breath at the words. An icy gust swirled across his face and he heard Ying Long speak to him alone.

The greater the love, the greater the hurt. But if the love is true, you will overcome even this.

Zhuo Yichen shook his head. Zhao Yuanzhou had made his choice to disregard him and their marriage for his own goals. And so Zhuo Yichen had made his choice to divorce him. There was no turning back, no future ahead for the two of them . . . was there?

Zhao Yuanzhou came up beside him. It seemed that he had interpreted the long silence as Ying Long asking his price of Zhuo Yichen, for he said, “Qianbei, whatever the price is, I will pay it.” He looked at Zhuo Yichen and smiled sadly. “I owe you a blood debt. Let me pay it and your oath will be fulfilled. And you will be free to live your life however you wish.”

Zhuo Yichen found himself shaking his head. Regardless of what he currently felt for Zhao Yuanzhou, he had long ago let go of the anger and hatred he had built up inside him for eight years. It had been the very man beside him who had shown that it was possible to feel something else again. He no longer felt bound his oath of vengeance.

“You owe me nothing,” he spoke, not looking at Zhao Yuanzhou. “And I don’t want to be in your debt either.”

Hurt flickered over Zhao Yuanzhou’s face but he stayed silent.

“Then I will pay the price.” Li Lun stood on Zhuo Yichen’s other side. “If you promise to restore the Great Wilderness in whatever way possible, I will willingly die here.” More quietly he added, “I have nothing else to live for anyway.”

“No.” Zhuo Yichen’s was firm and resolute. “No one is dying here today. This conversation is ridiculous.”

Ying Long laughed, a low, rich rumbling sound. “I never thought I would see a love again as strong as ours. Alright, little dragon. For the sake of those who would stand by your side, for the sake of Bing Yi and the sword that you wear which was formed from my own body, I will give you the final piece of myself to form a yao core.”

The tombstone cracked and a wide gap appeared from the top all the way to the base. A gleaming orb floated up and towards Zhuo Yichen. Before he could move, it pressed against his lower abdomen. Flaming heat and icy cold alternated through him as he gasped and doubled over. He almost fell to his knees but was caught by two sets of arms. As he stood, he felt the yao power which had been burning through him in constant waves of pain gather in his new core. The pain receded with a rush and he suddenly felt whole, as if this entire time his world had been slightly tilted on an axis and now it was finally set right.

Zhuo Yichen unsheathed his Yunguang sword and held it in front of him. Immediately it flamed bright and strong. He felt all his senses sharpened and his awareness of the qi around him heightened. He knew that his eyes burned icy blue as he turned his gaze on the two other yao who had both taken several steps back.

Li Lun inclined his head respectfully. “Great yao,” he acknowledged him.

Zhao Yuanzhou was looking at him with a strange expression. “Xiao Zhuo,” he breathed quietly.

The name brought Zhuo Yichen back to himself. He subdued the power rushing through him and sheathed his sword. His legs shook but he kept his balance. He felt . . . different, yet he remained Zhuo Yichen. Suddenly, exhaustion came over him. Ever since the incident at the bureau, his entire life had been turned completely upside down, even more so than when his marriage to Zhao Yuanzhou had been announced. Zhuo Yichen was tired, so tired of it all.

Wordlessly, he walked out of the cave and headed back in the direction of the Kunlun Divine Mountain. The other two yao accompanied him silently. If they had anything they wanted to say, they both refrained from saying it.

Arriving back at the mountain god temple, Zhuo Yichen was immediately mobbed by Bai Jiu and Ying Lei who could barely contain their relief and excitement at seeing him returned alive and well. Zhuo Yichen patted them both on their heads. In response, they both squealed and hugged him tighter. They only released him when Pei Sijing prodded them sharply in the back with her bow, allowing Wen Xiao a space to give Zhuo Yichen a warm hug as well. Zhuo Yichen accepted the hug, but looked relieved when Pei Sijing only gave him a nod and a smile.

Zhuo Yichen consented to Bai Jiu leading him back to his room and then poking and prodding at his meridians for an interminably long time. The young doctor finally announced that his new yao core had integrated seamlessly with his inner core and meridians, and that his yao power was now circulating smoothly. He left, promising to have Ying Lei make all his favourite dishes.

At long last, Zhuo Yichen was alone. He sat back on his tiny bed in the small chamber, leaning against the cushions. He should have been content - the one in a million chance of successfully obtaining a yao core had actually been realized. Not only that, but he had also met Ying Long and learned the truth about his ancestor. But Zhuo Yichen felt nothing. No relief, no optimism, not even anger or pain. It was as if he had felt far too much over the past few days and was now left empty, a husk without feelings or emotions.

Despite his exhaustion, he couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t forget the scene of Bing Yi stabbing Ying Long - the utter anguish in his eyes as he killed his soulmate. That image was seared forever in Zhuo Yichen’s mind. As were Ying Long’s words to him. They repeated themselves, over and over, in Zhuo Yichen’s head. He was also unable to stop thinking about Zhao Yuanzhou, despite all his efforts.

He stumbled out of bed and rifled through the pack of his belongings. Before they had left Tiandu, Wen Xiao had handed him a scroll, penned in Fan Ying’s neat and precise handwriting, which he now pulled out and read. His hands trembled as unrolled it and the characters seemed to burn his eyes. There was a blank space on the far left side, waiting for his and Zhao Yuanzhou’s signature. That blank space taunted him.

Throwing the scroll on the table, Zhuo Yichen curled up beside the bed, knees hunched up against his chest. No tears flowed down his cheeks, as if his eyes were empty, as if his heart had already bled out.

He didn’t sleep that night.

In the following days, if anybody noticed anything off about him they didn’t say anything. By mutual agreement, they all agreed to stay on Kunlun Divine Mountain for a few extra days. Ying Zhao warmly invited them to stay as long as they wanted and quickly became a grandfather for the entire group.

Zhuo Yichen spent most of his time alone in a small inner courtyard, cultivating his new yao power or practicing his sword forms. He asked Pei Sijing to spar with him a few times; the archer was a competent hand-to-hand fighter as well. However, while she may have been able to hold her own against Zhuo Yichen before his transformation, she was no match for him now. Zhuo Yichen found all his senses to have sharpened, his speed and strength increased. He had been an extremely talented swordsman before. Now, he was virtually unbeatable.

“You need a real partner,” a cold voice interrupted his latest bout with Pei Sijing.

Zhuo Yichen looked up and found Li Lun leaning against one of the pillars of the covered walkway running all the way around the courtyard.

Pei Sijing stepped back and lowered the two daggers she held in her hands. “Yao or no, I’m not afraid to take anyone on,” she said with a toss of her head.

Li Lun smirked. “I’ll take that as a challenge then. We’ll see how long you can hold out against me.”

“You know where to find me,” Pei Sijing responded, twirling her daggers as she left the courtyard.

“One of these days someone will kill you,” Zhuo Yichen commented dryly.

“Please,” Li Lun responded with an impressive eye roll. He straightened and stalked into the courtyard in a way which reminded Zhuo Yichen of a great hunting cat. He was all grace and power, his lithe movements exuding arrogant confidence.

“Why don’t you spar with Zhu Yan? You would be well-matched with him now.”

The question, and the accompanying strike of yao power caught Zhuo Yichen by surprise. He barely avoided the blow, just managing a frantic block with his sword at the last second.

“Did he send you?” Zhuo Yichen asked suspiciously in return.

“Of course not. I don’t run errands.” Li Lun kept advancing, strike after strike battering Zhuo Yichen’s panicky defense. “But he’s been moping around the temple, looking all miserable.”
“Why should I care?” Zhuo Yichen threw back, drawing on more of his power to keep the pagoda tree yao at bay. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” Li Lun responded easily. “But I think you do, despite pretending not to.”

“If that’s so, then that makes two of us.”

It was as much a verbal sparring as it was physical. Li Lun finally lessened the intensity of his attacks, allowing Zhuo Yichen to catch his breath. The fought with a relaxed back-and-forth for several minutes.

“Whatever was once between us is long over.” Li Lun finally spoke up again. “Zhu Yan . . . Zhu Yan never really cared for anyone more then he cared for the Great Wilderness. But he’s different with you.”

Zhuo Yichen narrowed his eyes, not wanting to hear anymore. He knew Li Lun had never lied to him, but his own feelings towards Zhao Yuanzhou were still in too much of a tangle to just believe what Li Lun was saying.

“What are you still doing here anyway?” Zhuo Yichen changed the topic as he began to press Li Lun with a series of intense attacks. “You helped me as you said you would. I would have expected you to be long gone by now.”

The reply came so quietly Zhuo Yichen almost missed it.

“And go where?” Li Lun whispered.

Zhuo Yichen was momentarily stunned and lost his earlier advantage. He almost dropped his sword and had to awkwardly scramble to regain his footing. Amidst the flurry of blows, he studied Li Lun. The pagoda tree yao had physically recovered, but there was a haunted look in his eyes that not even his arrogance and swagger could completely hide. He was all alone, Zhuo Yichen realized. Betrayed and tortured by the person who had unsealed him. And previously abandoned for eight years by by his closest friend due to a misunderstanding.

“You’re welcome to stay, you know,” he offered quietly, during a brief lull of their sparring.

Li Lun dropped his arms and withdrew his yao power. “Stay?”

“There’s a home for you in the Demon Hunting Bureau if you want it.”

“In exchange for what?”

Zhuo Yichen huffed at the suspicion in Li Lun’s voice. “Nothing. I’m offering as a friend. We’re an odd bunch, but somehow we’ve made it work. Become a family.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Zhao Yuanzhou once told me that you hated the human realm. That you wanted it completely separated from the yao realm, no more contact or travel between the two.” Zhuo Yichen looked off vaguely into the distance, savouring the irony of his words. “I once felt the same. But through Zhao Yuanzhou I came to realize that we’re stronger together. Now I want to experience the beauty and splendour of the Great Wilderness he’s told me about. And I hope that one day you can see there is something good about the human realm as well.”

It was a long speech and Zhuo Yichen suddenly felt embarrassed. He looked everywhere except at Li Lun.

“I think I’ve found at least one thing,” Li Lun replied after a pause. Zhuo Yichen looked up to find the yao looking straight at him with a softer look in his eyes than he had ever seen.

“Well,” Zhuo Yichen cleared his throat and looked away again. “Like I said, you’re welcome to stay with us.”

“Only if you talk with Zhao Yuanzhou.”

Zhuo Yichen grimaced. “That’s a lousy bargain.”

Li Lun rolled his eyes. “Just talk to him. You’re miserable, he’s miserable, and if you hadn’t noticed, your two kids are not handling the divorce well either.”

With that, he swept out of the courtyard, leaving Zhuo Yichen gaping after him. “Ridiculous,” he muttered to himself and sheathed his sword.

But Li Lun’s words refused to leave him. He began to notice how Bai Jiu and Ying Lei tiptoed around him, the smile on their faces brittle. The silent judgement on Wen Xiao’s face was much more obvious. Pei Sijing’s even more so.

The scroll on his beside table continued to haunt him. The more it stayed there, unsigned, the more unsure he felt about going through with the divorce. He suddenly realized that he missed Zhao Yuanzhou. He missed the yao’s annoying clinginess and his stupid antics and his complete disregard for personal space. Continuing to avoid him and refusing his attempts to apologize was costing him much more than admitting he really did still care for Zhao Yuanzhou.

But where to begin? After several, long tense days of avoiding Zhao Yuanzhou, Zhuo Yichen swallowed down his pride and went to look for him. He carried a few small jugs of wine which he had swiped from Ying Lei’s stash.

He found him one of the temple halls with Li Lun, a game board between them. They were playing in comfortable silence, motionless except for occasionally setting down a white or a black stone. He looked at the board; they had been playing for a while but it seemed like neither was able to obtain an advantage over the other.

He placed a small jug in front of each of them. Li Lun picked his up absentmindedly and took a drink as he placed another stone.

“What’s this for?” Zhao Yuanzhou asked, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the game.

“For . . . for . . . to thank you.” Zhuo Yichen stumbled awkwardly over the words, not knowing how to respond. He was caught off guard by Zhao Yuanzhou’s cold reaction. “For helping me obtain a yao core.”

Zhao Yuanzhou finally raised his eyes and looked at him. “No need for thanks.” He still hadn’t reached for the wine. “As you said, we’re even. Better to split ways not owing each other anything.”

The words hurt, even though it was exactly what he had said to Zhao Yuanzhou not too long ago. Having them thrown back in his face, he realized how cruel they were. But now he wanted to change things between them. He wanted things to return as they were. He wanted his husband back. But none of those words made their way over his lips. He just sat there silently, awkwardly watching them continue to play their game.

Finally, Zhuo Yichen stood up. “I’ll be going then,” he said. It came out stiffer than he wanted.

As he walked away, he heard Li Lun comment, “That was poorly handled.”

Zhao Yuanzhou’s reply was too low to hear.

Li Lun chuckled. “You really think he wants space? You’re blind, Zhu Yan. Blind and stupid.”

Zhuo Yichen rushed out of the courtyard before he could hear anymore. He was hurt by Zhao Yuanzhou’s reaction, but recognized that he had been just as cold, if not more, when the yao had first reached out to him to try and apologize. They were both caught in a vicious cycle of hurting each other, he realized with sudden insight.

He was not yet asleep when a knock came at his door. He stood up and crossed the room in two steps, opening the door. Zhao Yuanzhou stood outside. For a long moment Zhuo Yichen just gaped at him, not believing that he had actually come.

“Come in,” he finally said a bit awkwardly.

Zhao Yuanzhou stepped inside and his eyes fell to the scroll on the table. Bitterness was in his voice. “I guess this is it then.”

“What?” Zhuo Yichen was confused, until he saw what Zhao Yuanzhou was looking at. He cursed himself for having kept the scroll out. He hadn’t wanted Zhao Yuanzhou to ever see it.

“For what it’s worth,” Zhao Yuanzhou began softly. He unrolled the scroll, his eyes pausing on the spot which lacked both signatures. “Your yao power and your marks suit you well. As a great yao, you’ll be able to restore the peace treaty between the human and yao realms. Even without me.”

The peace treaty had been the very last thing on Zhuo Yichen’s mind. And he was beginning to feel nervous at Zhao Yuanzhou’s calm, fatalistic tone of voice. Even more so, when Zhao Yuanzhou reached for a brush to sign the scroll.

“Wait! Don’t sign!” The words fell from Zhuo Yichen’s lips before he could prevent them.

Zhao Yuanzhou paused, the brush just hovering over the scroll. He didn’t say anything.

“I . . . I . . . .” Zhuo Yichen scrambled to say something but his mind was blank. He rushed forward and yanked the scroll away from Zhao Yuanzhou. He tore it violently in half, letting the two halves flutter to the ground.

“I don’t want to do this without you. I shouldn’t have called for a divorce,” he said finally. He met Zhao Yuanzhou’s eyes. “I was angry and hurt but I shouldn’t have lashed back out at you.”

“And I’m sorry I hurt you,” Zhao Yuanzhou responded.

Zhuo Yichen had heard that apology before. “Are you only apologizing for hurting me? Or also for putting your goals above our marriage? Above me?”

The ensuing silence spoke more than words. Zhuo Yichen fought back the tears. He would not cry. He refused.

Zhao Yuanzhou swallowed heavily, clearly struggling to order his thoughts. In that instant, Zhuo Yichen realized several things at once. He understood that Zhao Yuanzhou did care for him, but that he wasn’t the only thing the yao cared about. And with a sudden rush of jealousy, he wanted to be the one and only thing in Zhao Yuanzhou’s life, the only thing that mattered to him.

Right then and there, Zhuo Yichen decided that he would do all it took to claim that spot in Zhao Yuanzhou’s heart.

“You might not be able to answer that question yet,” Zhuo Yichen spoke softly. “But I can. And I will prove my answer to you. Every moment, every day. Until you also have an answer for me.”

Chapter 7: How to Seduce a Husband

Zhuo Yichen didn’t have much of a plan the next morning when he wandered off in search of Zhao Yuanzhou. If nothing else, he would just keep bothering Zhao Yuanzhou until the yao came to his senses. It had certainly worked well enough for his husband the first time around, he remembered ruefully.

However, Zhao Yuanzhou was not just avoiding Zhuo Yichen, he was also behaving oddly. Restless and distracted, he roamed the surroundings of the Kunlun Gate. When Zhuo Yichen asked Ying Zhao what was going on, the old mountain god just looked worried and muttered something unintelligible.

So Zhuo Yichen decided to wait for Zhao Yuanzhou. He figured the yao would come back to the temple sooner or later, so he waited at the top of the snow-covered stairs to the temple’s entrance for several hours. When Zhao Yuanzhou did finally appear, Zhuo Yichen rose up and walked towards him. The yao halted.

“Stay back,” Zhao Yuanzhou warned, an odd inflection to his voice.

He tried to scurry back across to the causeway which led to the mountain path but Zhuo Yichen intercepted him. He summoned his yao power and let a barrier fall in front of Zhao Yuanzhou. In response, Zhao Yuanzhou flicked a finger. The blast of yao power which emanated from him was mingled with so much malicious energy that it not only broke the barrier, but also knocked Zhuo Yichen off his feet with the recoil.

Zhuo Yichen lay on the ground for a moment, completely stunned. Then he scrambled to his feet in anger.

“That’s going too far!” he called out, eyes flashing. His mouth closed shut abruptly when he saw the horrified look in Zhao Yuanzhou’s eyes.

The yao was staring at his hands in shock and disbelief, turning them over and over. This close, Zhuo Yichen could feel him thrumming with barely contained power. Malicious energy seeped from him. It was terrifying.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his initial shock and anger rapidly turning to worry. “Why aren’t you suppressing your malicious energy like you normally do?”

Zhao Yuanzhou laughed without humour. “I am. I’m using my entire inner force to suppress it. But it’s too strong. I just need . . . I just need tomorrow to pass and then it’ll be okay.”

“Tomorrow?”

A shadow fell across both of them as Li Lun appeared in a swirl of leaves. “Tomorrow’s a blood moon, isn’t it?” he asked quietly.

Zhao Yuanzhou nodded miserably. “It’s fine, usually. I find an isolated place and seal myself in for a few days. But I have a bad premonition about this time.”

“Explain from the beginning, please,” Zhuo Yichen requested, unable to hide the concern in his voice. He met Zhao Yuanzhou’s eyes, silently communicating his determination to stay and do right by him, whatever was going on.

Zhao Yuanzhou sighed. “You have a right to know,” he said softly. He gestured at them to follow him. “Not here though.”

He led them up a slope to an overlook which gave them a magnificent view of the mountain range all around them and the valley below which led to the wide, flat plains and Tiandu. Sitting down on a large stone, Zhao Yuanzhou began to haltingly speak of his role as the vessel for malicious energy, a duty which he was normally able to handle well and with ease. As a great yao, the power he wielded even without the malicious energy at his disposal was immense, and he was able to seamlessly integrate the malicious energy into his core and body. But at every blood moon, the power of the malicious energy was amplified, so much so that suppressing it became a challenge.

“And the last time I lost control to it . . . .” Zhao Yuanzhou didn’t finish the sentence. Zhuo Yichen knew all too well what had happened that last time.

“Then we’ll help you suppress it,” he offered.

“We?” Li Lun echoed sceptically.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Zhuo Yichen told Zhao Yuanzhou, once again looking him in the eyes and trying to convey the sincerity of his feelings. “Whatever happens tomorrow, we’ll face it together.”

Zhao Yuanzhou met his gaze but kept his emotions carefully shuttered. Zhuo Yichen couldn’t tell what he was thinking or feeling. He wanted to reach out and pull the yao closer but felt too awkward. He had always been averse to physical touches; now, he cursed himself for it.

“If I lose control tomorrow, you have to kill me,” Zhao Yuanzhou spoke quietly after a long pause.

“That won’t happen.” Zhuo Yichen’s response was immediate.

“But if it does, you have to,” Zhao Yuanzhou insisted. He grabbed Zhuo Yichen’s wrist and squeezed tightly. “Your Yunguang sword is the only thing that can breach the malicious energy and kill me. It has to be you, Xiao Zhuo. Promise me you’ll do it.”

“I won’t. I can’t. There has to be another way.”

Zhao Yuanzhou shook his head sadly. He let his head fall onto Zhuo Yichen’s shoulder. “I wish there was.”

Zhuo Yichen didn’t respond. The irony tasted bitter on his tongue - now when all he wanted was to prove to his husband that he could be trusted, he was being asked to kill him. The very thing he had once sought for so desperately, but now would do anything to avoid. If he had to choose between killing Zhao Yuanzhou and saving everyone else . . . Zhuo Yichen was not sure what his choice would be.

All three sat silently on the rocks, watching the sun slip behind the mountains. There was a faint tang in the air as malicious energy continued to seep out from Zhao Yuanzhou. The yao almost quivered with the effort of suppressing the energy. When night darkened around them, they returned to the temple.

Zhao Yuanzhou stopped in front of the temple entrance. “I’m staying outside,” he announced quietly.

“Then I’ll stay with you,” Zhuo Yichen told him.

Zhao Yuanzhou shook his head. “Get some rest, Xiao Zhuo. I’ll be fine.”

Zhuo Yichen nodded unwillingly. “You better be here in the morning,” he called over his shoulder as Li Lun led him away.

The next morning, the sun had barely risen when Zhuo Yichen was up and rushing out of the temple. He found Zhao Yuanzhou sitting on the steps and let out a breath of relief at the sight of him. Zhao Yuanzhou didn’t say anything when Zhuo Yichen sat down beside him, but something flickered in his eyes.

The others joined them on and off throughout the day, everyone doing their best to maintain a sense of false cheer. Bai Jiu barely left Zhuo Yichen’s side, clutching tightly to the string of bells in his air. And Ying Lei constantly brought something new to eat or drink, stress-cooking furiously in the kitchen all day.

Zhao Yuanzhou didn’t touch any of the food, just continued to sip constantly from the flask at his hip. Several times, Zhuo Yichen crushed a new jade piece into the flask and refilled it with water. It had become a habit of his to always carry a few jade pendants with him - either tucked away in his sleeve or as ornaments on his belt. It was a small thing he was able to do for Zhao Yuanzhou and the yao always rewarded him with a small smile every time he gifted him a new piece.

The moon was set to rise just shortly before dusk. As the shadows lengthened, the suspense and tension increased. The three great yao were alone in front of the temple. Zhuo Yichen moved closer to Zhao Yuanzhou and tentatively reached for his hand. He squeezed tightly, then kept holding it. The crystal in the hilt of the Yunguang sword began to glow blue.

“I can feel it,” Zhao Yuanzhou whispered. His face was pale and his body trembled slightly with the effort of keeping the malicious energy under control. Thin tendrils of it snaked around his body.

Suddenly everything was cast in a faded red hue as the clouds parted, revealing a full moon shining scarlet.

Zhao Yuanzhou groaned and let his head drop down. On his other side, Li Lun laid a hand on his shoulder and began to transfer a steady stream of his own power.

The sound was so faint at first it was barely perceptible. It was more a sensation, like the grating of metal against a hard surface. The discordant notes continued, carried by the wind.

Li Lun raised his head. “Do you hear that?” he asked.

Zhuo Yichen had been too focused on the vice grip with which Zhao Yuanzhou was crushing his hand and the alarming increase of malicious energy pouring out from him. “Hear what?”

“That flute.”

As he concentrated, he was able to hear it as well. It was unfit to be called music - the sounds all clashed together in a most unharmonious way. But it grew louder and louder until suddenly a figure appeared at the opposite end of the causeway, passing between the imposing statues that guarded the way to Kunlun Gate.

Zhao Yuanzhou groaned again, clapping both hands over his ears. “Make it stop.”

Li Lun rose. “I recognize that mask,” he hissed. “The same person broke the Baize Goddess’ seal on me. And I’ve heard those notes twice before - the day I was first sealed, and then the day I was unsealed.”

Zhuo Yichen rose as well, unsheathing his sword and standing protectively in front of Zhao Yuanzhou. All three watched as the masked figure came closer and closer. The silver mask was as incongruent as the earlier sounds - it seemed to be soldered together from three different masks and was too large to fit properly. The overall effect was eerie.

Zhao Yuanzhou didn’t stand, but he seemed to have recovered some of his calm and poise. “Wen Zongyu,” he greeted the stranger.

A hollow chuckle came from behind the mask. “So you know who I am.” Wen Zongyu reached up and removed the mask, dropping it carelessly on the ground. He had the look of a scholar to him, but his deep set eyes burned with barely concealed cruelty and malice.

“You’ve been playing this game for a while,” continued Zhao Yuanzhou.

“Noble goals are hard-fought for.”

“And what is your goal?”

Wen Zongyu made a derisive sound. “You don’t deserve to know. You’re a pawn, not a player, Zhu Yan. Just like you were eight years ago. And today, you will be played once more.” He held up a small flute, the wood so dark it was almost black.

“Don’t let him play it again,” Li Lun warned, but it was too late.

Before any of them could move,Wen Zongyu raised the flute to his lips and drew forth a single note, the screeching sound so high and loud it was painful. Zhao Yuanzhou suddenly screamed in a most heart-wrenching way. His head snapped back and he rose several feet in the air. Malicious energy blasted out from him, knocking both Zhuo Yichen and Li Lun off their feet.

As Zhuo Yichen scrambled back to his feet and picked up his sword, he looked up. Zhao Yuanzhou’s eyes were bright red, matching the flaming marks high on his cheekbones. Claws extended from his fingers and his sharp, cruel smile revealed two sharply pointed incisors.

Zhuo Yichen gasped. Fear gripped him tightly, constricting his ability to breathe, to think. This wasn’t Zhao Yuanzhou, nor even Zhu Yan. All humanity, all his identity as an ape yao had been stripped from him. He was only the vessel, fully consumed by the malicious energy. And that energy was being wielded and directed by a discordant flute - a mockery of the pure melody played by the Baize Goddess.

Zhuo Yichen felt helpless. Looking at Li Lun, he saw the same fear reflected in his eyes.

“We have to stop him,” Zhuo Yichen whispered.

“Stop who?” asked Li Lun.

It was a valid question. Wen Zongyu changed the rhythm and notes of his playing. Immediately, Zhao Yuanzhou turned and directed a blast of malicious energy at the entrance gate of the temple. The wooden doors snapped from the force of the blow and broke off their hinges, leaving a gaping hole. They disappeared into the front courtyard.

Zhuo Yichen and Li Lun hurried after them. They watched in frozen fear and growing horror as Wen Zongyu used the malicious energy through Zhao Yuanzhou to destroy the carved stone pillars arranged in a circle in the middle of the courtyard. Those pillars were the energy conduits for the formation which protected the Great Wilderness. With the pillars destroyed, crumpled into dust and chunks of stone, the formation began the collapse. At the same time, the ground shuddered beneath them. Great cracks appeared in the temple walls and foundation. The portal which formed the gateway between the yao and human realms was riven in two.

“Zhao Yuanzhou!” Zhuo Yichen cried in desperation and darted forward.

Wen Zongyu changed the tune he was playing and suddenly Zhuo Yichen felt himself enveloped by malicious energy and raised high, the air squeezed from his lungs. A thin tendril wrapped itself around his neck and tightened, causing his vision to darken around the edges.

“Zhao Yuanzhou,” Zhuo Yichen wheezed. “Stop this.”

“It’s useless!” Wen Zongyu laughed maniacally. “Nothing can stop me. You’re all going to die here today. And once I’m done with him, there will be nothing left of Zhu Yan, not even a shred of his miserable soul.”

Zhuo Yichen was lifted even higher until he was face to face with Zhao Yuanzhou. He was gasping desperately for breath now. Tears spilled freely over his cheeks as he stared at the beloved face of his husband. With his remaining strength, he reached out and touched Zhao Yuanzhou’s cheek; his thumb brushed over the yao mark.

Zhao Yuanzhou flinched. His eyes flickered to dark brown for a moment. The malicious energy choking Zhuo Yichen disappeared and he drew in a deep breath.

“Xiao Zhuo,” Zhao Yuanzhou whispered in a strained voice. Zhuo Yichen could see how much he struggled against the the malicious energy but it was futile. His eyes began to gleam scarlet again. With a last effort, he whispered one last sentence. “Do it. Now.”

“No!” With a guttural roar, Zhuo Yichen drew on every last drop of his power. Blue energy surged outward from his body and blasted across the courtyard. Zhao Yuanzhou flew back and Wen Zongyu stumbled, the notes of his flute momentarily ceasing.

An arrow whistled through the air, narrowly missing Wen Zongyu. Pei Sijing sprang forward, another arrow nocked to her bow. Behind her, Ying Lei rushed out rushed out from the temple, followed by his grandfather. Together, they summoned a shining golden barrier in the form of three-storied pagoda and slammed it down on Wen Zongyu.

“We got this!” Ying Lei yelled at Zhuo Yichen. “Save Zhao Yuanzhou!”

Li Lun appeared at Zhuo Yichen’s side as a tangle of roots burst up from the snow-covered courtyard and immobilized Zhao Yuanzhou. “You have once chance. Don’t miss.”

Zhuo Yichen nodded. He looked at up Zhao Yuanzhou who was hovering motionless a few in the air. Malicious energy still billowed around him. Zhuo Yichen took a deep breath, brushing away the tears which had continued to run down his cheeks. Earlier that day, Zhao Yuanzhou had mentioned one desperate measure as an ultimate resort. They hadn’t discussed it again, knowing the chances of success were slim.

Now, having reached that desperate state, Zhuo Yichen ran his palm down the edge of the Yunguang sword, not flinching as its blade cut into his hand. It flared even brighter as the blood and power of his Bing Yi heritage flowed into the sword. Li Lun held out a hand and Zhuo Yichen gently nicked the blade across his palm, then repeated the gesture with Ying Lei. He could feel the way the sword throbbed with the combined power of yao, god, and Bing Yi clan.

He paused, looking once more at Zhao Yuanzhou. Then he leapt, sword pointed unerringly straight, and stabbed Zhao Yuanzhou in the middle of his chest. They fell to the ground together. Zhuo Yichen let his sword fall from his hands as he wrapped his arms around Zhao Yuanzhou protectively. The malicious energy dissipated.

“Zhao Yuanzhou,” whimpered Zhuo Yichen. One hand cradled the his head, the other pressed against the wound on his chest. A single tear fell from his eyes and landed on Zhao Yuanzhou’s cheek. “Wake up. It’s over. Please wake up.”

Zhao Yuanzhou stirred, cracking open his eyes. Zhuo Yichen gasped in relief when he saw they were dark brown. Blood spilled over Zhao Yuanzhou’s lips and Zhuo Yichen wiped it away carefully.

“Xiao Zhuo,” Zhao Yuanzhou whispered. “If I die, at least I’ll die in your arms.”

“You’re not going to die, stupid monkey. I won’t allow it.”

“White ape,” Zhao Yuanzhou whispered in familiar protest as his eyes closed again.

Just then Bai Jiu came running up with vials of medicine spilling from his arms. His hands shook as he removed Zhuo Yichen’s hand to look at the wound.

“You pierced the core meridian, just missing the heart by a hair’s breadth. He’ll have a hard time circulating his qi until the pathway is restored, but the wound isn’t fatal.”

Zhuo Yichen closed his eyes, fighting against the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. Zhao Yuanzhou had shown him the spot, told him where exactly to aim, but there had been zero margin of error. In the end, he had poured all his love for Zhao Yuanzhou into his sword, trusting it to find the right spot.

“Hey, hey! What do you think you’re doing?” The sudden cry came from Ying Lei.

Everyone looked up. Still trapped in the barrier of golden light, Wen Zongyu had reached into his sleeve and held up a slim red feather. In the next instant, he vanished.

“Shifu?” Bai Jiu asked in confusion and utter bewilderment.

In the post-fight chaos, Ying Zhao calmly took over. Under his supervision, everyone focused on the immediate tasks of looking after their wounds and restoring the worst of the damage caused to the temple. Answers to everyone’s unspoken questions would have to wait. Those still able to to move helped clean up, although they studiously avoided the broken portal and the crumpled pillars. It would take a power none of them had to repair what had been destroyed.

The next day, Zhuo Yichen was relieved to see Zhao Yuanzhou back on his feet. Although he hadn’t fully recovered yet, he had used his yao power to seal the wound of the Yunguang sword. Neither of them spoke about what had happened, but Zhao Yuanzhou no longer avoided Zhuo Yichen. It was a step in the right direction, Zhuo Yichen thought with satisfaction, determined to continue proving himself to his husband.

While chaos still reigned on Kunlun Divine Mountain, and the Great Wilderness was suffering from the loss of its protective formation, Ying Zhao urged to group to return to Tiandu. He had called on his fellow mountain gods, Lu Wu and Zhu Yin, to come and assist him, but there was much to be done in the city as well.

According to the elder gods, the first Baize Goddess had once wielded her power alongside the great yao Cheng Huang. The legends spoke of two flutes, a white and a black one. According to them, Cheng Huang had been responsible for the death of the Baize Goddess, but had somehow escaped being sealed. He had fled to the human realm and had never returned since.

“Cheng Huang?” Zhao Yuanzhou repeated. “That name sounds familiar.”

“Tianxiang Pavilion,” Zhuo Yichen spoke up. “The owner of Tianxiang Pavilion.”

Ying Zhao cautiously counselled them to seek out Cheng Huang. If anybody knew more of the mysteries of the Baize Goddess, it was him. Perhaps he could help Wen Xiao summon the Baize Token within her. If she could restore her power, then she might be able to repair the damage that Wen Zongyu had wrought through Zhao Yuanzhou.

And so with the exception of Ying Lei, they all returned to Tiandu. The young mountain god decided to stay and help his grandfather guard the Kunlun Gate. Through the broken portal, many yao had already escaped into the human realm. Most were simple Deceptive Beasts, eager for a bit of harmless fun. But others were more powerful yao with complete disregard for any collateral damage left in their wake.

Once back in Tiandu, they immediately went to the Demon Hunting Bureau to confer with Fan Ying and Situ Ming. To everyone’s consternation, their plans to find Cheng Huang had to be put aside, for bigger issues had arisen in the meantime.

Fan Ying held up a scroll stamped with the royal seal. “Zhao Yuanzhou has been summoned to court to answer for his failure to uphold the peace treaty.”

“What?” Zhuo Yichen exploded angrily. “What kind of nonsense is that?”

Situ Ming spoke up. “It seems that even though General Wu is in prison, he still has friends in court. They blamed the destruction of the Kunlun Gate on Zhao Yuanzhou. They say he did it on purpose to allow yao to pass freely into the human realm.”

“That’s nonsense, and it also wasn’t his fault,” Zhuo Yichen protested. “He was controlled by Wen Zongyu.”

“Unfortunately we have no proof of that,” countered Fan Ying. “The prime minister has assured me that the king will grant Zhao Yuanzhou a fair opportunity to speak and make amends. It’s not a trial.”

“Not yet,” muttered Zhuo Yichen darkly.

Sitting beside him, Zhao Yuanzhou had remained quiet. Now he said quietly, “I’ll go.”

“It’s a trap,” Li Lun spoke up, sitting at the far end of the room. Nobody questioned his presence. He had just wordlessly accompanied them back to Tiandu and they had all accepted him as part of the team with little more than a shrug.

Wen Xiao and Pei Sijing nodded. Bai Jiu just stared around with wide eyes, hands grasping nervously at the fold of his robes.

“I have to go,” Zhao Yuanzhou insisted. “If I don’t, they’ll say I have no intention of upholding the peace treaty. And then those who have been opposed to it from the start will no longer think they’re bound by its conditions either.”

“Then I’m coming with you,” Zhuo Yichen announced.

Zhao Yuanzhou shook his head, sending a fond smile his way. “Only I was summoned.”

“That’s not going to stop me,” Zhuo Yichen muttered and Zhao Yuanzhou gave him a look which reminded Zhuo Yichen of how he used to look at him.

In the end, both Zhuo Yichen and Fan Ying accompanied Zhao Yuanzhou to the palace complex. They left the Demon Hunting Bureau under the leadership of Pei Sijing and Li Lun, who had formed an unlikely friendship based on a mutual dislike of unnecessary talking and a mutual fondness for destructive and violent solutions. Wen Xiao had ensconced herself in the archives to dig up everything they had on Cheng Huang and Bai Jiu was busy restocking his medicine box.

Upon reaching the palace, Zhuo Yichen and Fan Ying were kindly but firmly requested by the guards to remain outside the formal reception hall. Only Zhao Yuanzhou was allowed inside, escorted by two guards on either side. He glanced back over his shoulder at Zhuo Yichen as the great doors closed behind him.

Zhuo Yichen began nervously pacing back and forth. He could hear some of what was being said inside and it did not lessen his concerns. Those speaking out against Zhao Yuanzhou were loud and numerous, each more scathing in their verbal attacks against the yao. In the pauses between the accusations, Zhao Yuanzhou calmly defended himself, although his responses were too quiet to be heard from outside.

At one point, it seemed like the entire gathering of ministers and courtiers were yelling. Zhuo Yichen suddenly had enough of the vile words thrown against Zhao Yuanzhou.

“I’m putting a stop to this,” he announced and stepped up to the closed doors.

The guards and Fan Ying rushed towards him.

“Zhuo daren!” Fan Ying called. “Court etiquette forbids you from entering without a summons.

“Court etiquette be damned!” Zhuo Yichen swore in response and summoned his power.

The doors of the great hall flew open and he strode in, his cloak billowing out behind him. Feeling just more than a little petty, he let his inner drama queen indulge herself. Summoning more of his power, he let his eyes and the yao marks on his neck glow blue. Wisps of icy blue flowed theatrically around him and his cloak billowed out majestically. He knew he made an imposing figure as he marched straight down the middle of the hall. And judging from the look he was getting from Zhao Yuanzhou and his widened pupils, the yao approved very much.

On either side of him, ministers and courtiers gasped and drew back. A few screamed; several of the eunuchs fainted. Seated on his golden throne, King Xiang looked on curiously, head tilted slighted in wry amusement.

But Zhuo Yichen only had eyes for Zhao Yuanzhou. His husband. The one he would do anything for, risk everything. Drawing level with him, Zhuo Yichen finally released his hold on his power.

He kowtowed three times in front of the golden dragon throne as appropriate. Sitting back in a kneeling position, he addressed the king. “His majesty’s humble subject begs leave to intercede on behalf of Zhao Yuanzhou.”

King Xiang made a small waving gesture with his hand. “Proceed.”

Zhuo Yichen took a deep breath. “If his majesty finds any fault with Zhao Yuanzhou, this humble subject begs to take the blame and punishment. We are one household, any fault of his is also mine.”

“The punishment for willfully breaking the peace treaty is death,” King Xiang said idly.

“And gladly would I die for my husband.” He heard Zhao Yuanzhou’s sharp inhale.  Heard him whisper his name softly. He bowed once more, keeping his forehead on the cold stone floor. “This humble subject begs a boon to be able rectify any harm caused by the destruction of the Kunlun Gate. Or I forfeit my life.”

“No,” Zhao Yuanzhou whispered beside him. “You can’t do this.”

The king didn’t immediately reply. Instead he waved the prime minister to come closer to the throne and they conferred silently together.

Then the prime minister stepped forward and cleared his throat. “Zhuo Yichen and the Demon Hunting Bureau will be granted two days to recover the Baize Token in order to uphold the peace treaty. Should they fail, all their lives will be forfeit.”

Zhuo Yichen was still in his prostate position, unable to look up. Shock and protest warred through him, but he knew he could not defy the king any further. Silently, he begged an apology from the members under his command. “This humble subject agrees to his majesty’s proposal.”

He finally stood up, his knees almost buckling beneath him. Zhao Yuanzhou was at his side, supporting him with a strong hand under his arm and another around his waist. They backed out of the hall slowly - less out of respect, and more because Zhuo Yichen was having difficulties telling his limbs to move. Outside, he slumped against Zhao Yuanzhou.

“Xiao Zhuo, ah Xiao Zhuo,” the yao said fondly, stroking his cheek. “That was incredibly brave and stupid.”

“They were tearing you to pieces in there,” Zhuo Yichen retorted, his strength coming back to him. “I wasn’t going to let that happen.”

Zhao Yuanzhou looked at him, a succession of different emotions passing over his face. “No one has ever stood up for me like that,” he whispered. “No one has ever chosen me over their own life.”

Zhuo Yichen had to look away from the depth of emotion showing in Zhao Yuanzhou’s eyes or he would have been swept away and drowned. “We may still lose both our lives,” he said.

“Not if we make the best of the next two days and save the Great Wilderness, save the Demon Hunting Bureau, and save the treaty.”

“That doesn’t sound so difficult when you put it like that.”

Zhao Yuanzhou reached out with both of his hands to cup Zhuo Yichen’s face, making him unable to look away. “With you by my side, Xiao Zhuo, anything is possible.”

Zhuo Yichen blushed, but he held Zhao Yuanzhou’s stare. Tried to let his eyes say everything he was unable to put into words.

They drew apart when Fan Ying awkwardly cleared his throat beside them. “I suggest we gather everyone at the bureau and discuss a plan,” he said calmly, though he avoided direct eye contact with them both.

Back at the Demon Hunting Bureau, the mood was subdued. Zhuo Yichen didn’t mince words when he told them of the deal he had accepted. He reached into his sleeve and withdrew several tokens, each engraved with the three characters of the bureau’s name. They weighed heavily in his hand.

“Tomorrow I will go to Tianxiang Pavilion and look for Cheng Huang. If you wish, I will release you from your obligations and positions with the Demon Hunting Bureau and you are free to go.”

“And if we choose to keep the token and accompany you?” Wen Xiao asked.

Tears stung Zhuo Yichen’s eyes. “Then you also bear the risk of your lives being forfeit.”

Zhao Yuanzhou shrugged casually. “My life is already yours, Xiao Zhuo,” he said. Those simple words swept devastatingly through Zhuo Yichen. Zhao Yuanzhou flicked his fingers and one of the tokens flew into his palm. “Tomorrow we go together.”

“I will go too,” Wen Xiao spoke up. “It is my duty as the Baize Goddess.”

Li Lun shrugged and rolled his eyes but he stayed in his spot and didn’t move. Pei Sijing frowned but nodded. Bai Jiu jumped and ran to Zhuo Yichen, clinging tightly to his legs.

“I’m coming too!” he cried.

Zhuo Yichen looked around at his team. Even when he had failed them, they still stood up for him and trusted him as their commander. He resolved that no matter what happened, they would succeed in their mission. He would not let any of them die.

“A toast then,” he said. “To us.”

At a wave, a servant ran and brought several jugs of wine. They all drank - Bai Jiu’s cup holding a mixture which had been heavily watered down, much to his complaint. No one noticed Li Lun switching out the cup and winking conspiratorially at the young man, although they all looked over with a concerned glance when Bai Jiu began to cough hysterically after taking a small sip. Li Lun returned their glances with an innocent shrug and thumped Bai Jiu several times between his shoulder blades.

They spent some time discussing their plan for the next day, what they knew of Tianxiang Pavilion and Cheng Huang, and also what might happen if they crossed Wen Zongyu’s path again. Ultimately, they were left with more questions than answers. As evening fell however, a bit of the sombre atmosphere which had weighed heavily on everyone had disappeared. They were all scared and nervous, but they would face any challenge as a team. Heartened by that thought, they all went off separately to their quarters.

Zhuo Yichen stepped into his old rooms, looking around at the space he had once called home. It now seemed cold and lifeless to him, and he longed for his chambers in Peach Blossom Manor. He stepped out onto the verandah and stared out into the shadows. Above, a few stars twinkled brightly.

The soft tread of footsteps alerted him to the fact that he was no longer alone. He watched Zhao Yuanzhou approach and smiled softly. Zhao Yuanzhou returned the smile, holding up two jugs of wine.

“Last time you brought wine, I refused to drink. Will you drink with me tonight?”

“Tonight and every night for the rest of our lifetimes.” The promise came easily, without thought.

They sat down at the low table, looking across each other. They drank silently for a while.

“You had asked if I could put you and our marriage first. Above all else.” Zhao Yuanzhou finally broke the silence.

Zhuo Yichen nodded, holding his breath.

“I . . . I don’t know if I can.”

Eyes widening, Zhuo Yichen looked at Zhao Yuanzhou. He was unable to read the yao’s expression. Tears welled up in his eyes. He had done everything he could to prove to Zhao Yuanzhou that he still wanted this marriage. Had it not been enough?

Zhao Yuanzhou smiled and Zhuo Yichen saw that he too, had tears in his eyes. “But I do know that I can’t keep pretending I don’t care about you. You’ve become more important to me than I ever thought possible and I don’t want to lose you.” He took a deep breath. “I think neither of us went into this marriage knowing what it meant to be husband and wife. But if you’ll let me, I’m willing to start over with you and find out.”

Tears streaming down his face, Zhuo Yichen launched himself across the table and collided with Zhao Yuanzhou in a tangle of limbs and fabric. He clung to Zhao Yuanzhou as he sobbed into his chest. His head was spinning - he had thought he was about to lose him forever, only to hear him confess his feelings.

“I don’t want to lose you either,” he hiccuped. He melted into Zhao Yuanzhou’s embrace as the yao began to stroke his hair.

“I’m sorry for everything,” Zhao Yuanzhou whispered. “I’m sorry for avoiding you, sorry for not realizing sooner how much you meant to me. And . . . and from now on, I will try to put you, us, first.”

Zhuo Yichen pulled back slightly. “I’m sorry too,” he replied. “For always assuming the worst and not giving you a chance to explain. For taking this long to realize how much I wanted you back.”

Zhao Yuanzhou pulled him back into a hug and Zhuo Yichen felt his lips against his hair. “I’m here,” Zhao Yuanzhou whispered. “I’m here now.”

“And you won’t leave?”

“Never.”

They clung to each other for a while longer. Zhao Yuanzhou gently wiped the tears away from Zhuo Yichen’s cheeks and grabbed the wine.

“Here, drink.”

They passed the wine back and forth, emptying both jugs. Zhuo Yichen felt contentment buzz through him and he couldn’t help the small smile which refused to disappear from his lips. He was still draped against Zhao Yuanzhou, loathe to leave the yao’s side. Zhao Yuanzhou was swaying slightly and his eyes were slightly glazed.

“We should get some sleep before tomorrow,” Zhuo Yichen murmured. He tried to disentangle himself from Zhao Yuanzhou.

“Nooo, Xiao Zhuooo,” Zhao Yuanzhou slurred and pouted up at him. “Don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere, just trying to get us to bed.”

“Your bed.”

“Fine, my bed. Get up.” He hauled Zhao Yuanzhou to his feet and half-carried, half-dragged the drunk yao into his room.

He managed to get him into his bed and arranged into a comfortable position. He took off his boots and then pulled the covers up around him. Suddenly Zhao Yuanzhou’s hand shot out and grabbed Zhuo Yichen’s wrist. With surprising strength, he tugged, toppling Zhuo Yichen down onto the bed beside him. Immediately his two arms were around him, pulling him against his chest.

“Zhao. Yuan. Zhou,” Zhuo Yichen forced out between clenched teeth but Zhao Yuanzhou just hugged him tighter, face nuzzling into his neck.

Zhuo Yichen forced himself to relax, resigned to spending the rest of the night sleeping beside Zhao Yuanzhou. In truth, it wasn’t much of a struggle. Shifting to a comfortable position, his breath slowed to match Zhao Yuanzhou’s who had already fallen asleep.

The next thing he knew, he was waking up, warm and cozy. He lay there for a moment, unwilling to get up and leave the circle of whatever was wrapped around him. Bit by bit, the memories of last night came back to him. The court. The wine. Zhao Yuanzhou, drunk, in his bed.

He opened his eyes, looking straight at Zhao Yuanzhou whose eyes were open, a soft smile on his lips.

“Xiao Zhuo.” The low, rumbling voice set his heart to beating faster. “I confess I don’t remember much of what happened after we finished drinking. But I very much want to know what happened to finally get you in my bed.”

“You’re in my bed. Because you were drunk and I didn’t want to leave you passed out outside. And then you wouldn’t let go of me."

“Mhm. Drunk me made some very smart decisions last night.”

Zhao Yuanzhou was looking at him with such a smug grin that Zhuo Yichen couldn’t find a proper retort. He grinned back at him instead.

“Don’t expect this to be a regular occurrence,” he said, but they both knew he was lying.

Zhao Yuanzhou pulled him into a hug. Zhuo Yichen closed his eyes and surrendered to the embrace. He felt Zhao Yuanzhou’s breath across his cheek, then the soft brush of his lips against his own. It was so soft it barely felt real, but the promise it implied was very much so.

Chapter 8: Vows

They both got up, though unwilling. A knock at the door announced the arrival of a servant bringing fresh water for washing. Upon seeing Zhao Yuanzhou stretching lazily beside the bed, the servant startled and almost dropped the basin of water.

“Zhuo daren. And ugh, Zhao daren.” The servant bobbed his head and rushed back out.

Zhuo Yichen glared at the smug grin which was back on Zhao Yuanzhou’s face. “Now there’s going to be new rumours running around the city.”

“And does Zhuo daren object to these new rumours?” Zhao Yuanzhou asked as he came up behind him. He rested his hands on Zhuo Yichen’s waist.

Zhuo Yichen forced himself to stay still. Even through the layers of his robes, Zhao Yuanzhou’s touch burned. He wanted more, he wanted to let himself go and be consumed by that roaring fire of desire.

“We don’t need any distractions right now,” he said just as Zhao Yuanzhou brushed his lips against the nape of his neck.

“Pity.” Although Zhuo Yichen couldn’t see it, he knew Zhao Yuanzhou was pouting.

Zhuo Yichen stepped away from him reluctantly. “Go get dressed. We have a case. One that might end with all of us dead if we don’t succeed.”

Zhao Yuanzhou sighed but acquiesced. As he walked towards the door, Zhuo Yichen called his name. Immediately he turned.

Zhuo Yichen took a deep breath and opened a drawer on his dressing table. “I should never have taken this from you. Will you take it back?” He held up the dragon-shaped hairpin.

Zhao Yuanzhou took it, tracing his fingertips along the carved edges. “You were right to take it. I betrayed you and the vows we had taken. I didn’t deserve to keep it.”

“Neither of us had a choice in taking those vows. But we do now. And this time I choose you willingly.”

Zhao Yuanzhou’s eyes widened, seemingly struck speechless. He lowered his head to allow Zhuo Yichen to slide the hairpin through the knot at the back of his head. Straightening back up he touched the hairpin.

“A dragon to match the dragon which holds my heart.”

Zhuo Yichen blushed, still not immune to the flattery which Zhao Yuanzhou was able to wield so easily with devastating effect.

“Out, out,” he said with a shooing motion, finally getting rid of Zhao Yuanzhou for his sanity’s sake.

Zhuo Yichen got dressed in a set of new robes and then met Zhao Yuanzhou in the front courtyard of the Demon Hunting Bureau. The yao gave him an appraising once-over, drawing heat to the tips of Zhuo Yichen’s ears. His robes of black, blue and silver were matched by Zhao Yuanzhou’s black, red and silver. They looked good together.

The night before, everyone had agreed to meet at Tianxiang Pavilion and so the two of them set off together. They decided to walk instead of taking a carriage, but Zhuo Yichen quickly regretted that decision. The stares and looks they received were decidedly less friendly than previous occasions. Some looked at them with wariness, others with open hostility. Parents with young children hustled them quickly out of sight.

Zhuo Yichen unconsciously reached up to his neck. His marks weren’t visible, but still he was conscious of them. He felt remorse at his previous attitude toward yao; now that he himself was one, the reflexive hate from the humans around him he faced cut deep. He refused to cower, however, meeting everyone’s stares with a steady look. He reached for Zhao Yuanzhou’s hand and clasped it in his, smiling softly at the look of surprise on his husband’s face.

“Bold, Xiao Zhuo. Very bold,” Zhao Yuanzhou teased.

“I have a lot to make up for,” Zhuo Yichen replied seriously, though his ears flamed. He held on even tighter to Zhao Yuanzhou’s hand.

They arrived in front of Tianxiang Pavilion. The five-storied entertainment establishment was the city’s finest. It had been around for as long as everyone could remember and the legends and rumours about what went on inside were legion. As were the hushed comments about its mysterious owner. Everyone knew the name Cheng Huang, but nobody could recall having seen him in person.

Pei Sijing was already there, standing across the road from the large entrance. She was standing stiffly, arms crossed across her chest. Her bow had been waxed and polished until the wood gleamed in the light. Wen Xiao arrived next - a stunning vision in white and silver. Even without the divine power of the Baize Goddess, there was no mistaking who she was. As she came closer, she draped a dark grey cloak around her white robes.

Before long, Li Lun arrived as well. He was dressed in a set of new black robes embroidered with gold thread and beads. The detailing was exquisite and must have cost a fortune.

“Did you buy those or steal them?” Zhuo Yichen asked the him suspiciously.

Li Lun smirked. “I bought them of course. With a letter of credit to be fulfilled by the Demon Hunting Bureau.”

Zhuo Yichen’s eyes widened in outrage but before he could reprimand Li Lun, Bai Jiu came running up.

“Sorry I’m late, Xiao Zhuo ge!”

“It’s alright, we were just about to go in,” Zhuo Yichen responded. Bai Jiu was dressed very handsomely in the robes of a young gentleman. The outfit and his hairstyle made him look several years older.

As Bai Jiu walked up the steps after Wen Xiao and Pei Sijing and trailed by Li Lun, Zhuo Yichen’s shook his head as if just realizing something. “Wait, Xiao Jiu! You’re too young to be going in there!”

Zhao Yuanzhou waved his hand. “He’ll be fine. It’s an educational experience.”

Completely flustered, Zhuo Yichen could only stem his hands against his waist and watch the young man disappear into the open door. “It’s hardly appropriate,” he muttered.

Zhao Yuanzhou grabbed his arm and pulled him along after the others. “Would you rather sit down with our son and explain everything to him yourself?”

Cringing at the thought of such an awkward conversation, Zhuo Yichen shook his head and sighed in resignation. “Just make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble in there.”

“He’s not the one I’m worried about,” Zhao Yuanzhou responded, once again running his eyes all over Zhuo Yichen. He leaned closer, whispering into his ear. “You’re going to make all the beauties in there jealous, Xiao Zhuo.”

“Ridiculous,” muttered Zhuo Yichen in reply. “Just focus on the case, will you?”

“How can I focus with such a stunning distraction on my arm?”

Zhuo Yichen rolled his eyes at the remark, but the tiny smile on his lips betrayed him. He’d missed this side of Zhao Yuanzhou. “I can hardly compare to my husband,” he responded, tilting his head slightly to look at Zhao Yuanzhou from beneath his eyelashes.

Zhao Yuanzhou’s widened and he tripped over his feet. Zhuo Yichen was inordinately pleased with his repost and thought he had won that round, when Zhao Yuanzhou leaned closer again.

“Look at me like that one more time and I’ll drag you off into one of those private rooms,” he said in a low voice with just the slightest hint of a growl that sent a shiver down Zhuo Yichen’s spine.

“Focus . . . focus on the case,” he managed to responded hoarsely, but he had completely lost his composure and they both knew it.

They walked up the steps to the entrance, already assaulted by the cloying smell of fragrance before stepping inside. Veiled women waved them inside with coy tilts of their head and flirty giggles. Inside, they found themselves in a large, opulent room. Open balconies ran around the outside and from somewhere above a waterfall fell down into the shallow basin in the middle of the room. A pipa was being played somewhere nearby, accompanying the group of dancers which weaved in and out of the gawking onlookers.

Zhuo Yichen yanked Bai Jiu away from a cluster of ladies reaching for him flirtatiously. “Stay close,” he told the young man, although whether it was for Bai Jiu’s good or his own, he wasn’t sure.

“Now what?” Li Lun asked the room. The scowl on his face prevented anyone from approaching him too closely.

They all stood awkwardly to one side of the entrance, looking around while trying not to attract attention. Suddenly Pei Sijing gasped.

“A-Heng?”

“What? Who?” Zhuo Yichen followed the direction of her startled gaze and saw a young man across the room standing frozen beside a pillar. He was looking at Pei Sijing with a similarly shocked expression.

“A-Heng,” Pei Sijing repeated and there was a whole world of anguish and remorse behind those two syllables.

She walked slowly towards the young man, who still hadn’t moved. Zhuo Yichen tried to stop her, but Wen Xiao lay a hand on his arm and shook her head.

“Pei Siheng is her brother,” she said quietly. “Although from the little she’s told me about him, I understood that she thought he had disappeared, or died.”

“What’s he doing here then?”

“You’ve heard the rumours just as I have,” she responded.

Zhuo Yichen nodded. It was said that many came to find work at Tianxiang Pavilion as a last resort when their situations became too desperate. Those that did, remained there for the rest of their lives.

Pei Sijing came back to the group, her brother at her side. Standing side by side, the resemblance between the two was evident. Pei Siheng was younger and slighter in build than his older sister. The course robes of a servant hung loosely from his slender frame and exhaustion showed on his pale face. Pei Sijing hovered protectively beside him.

“My brother says that Cheng Huang has a special room on the second floor.” She pointed to an area which was concealed from view by gauzy curtains. “He can see everything which happens in here from up there.”

Li Lun cocked his head to the side, glancing Pei Siheng up and down. “How come we’ve never heard of this brother of yours before? How do we know he can be trusted?”

Pei Sijing bristled. “We can trust him because he’s my brother.”

“Alright, alright,” Li Lun held his hands up placatingly. “But I think we deserve to know more.”

“It’s alright, jiejie,” Pei Siheng said quietly. He faced Li Lun, not cowering beneath the yao’s expressionless stare. “My sister didn’t know I was here because I never told her. I began doing odd jobs for Tianxiang Pavilion to help earn money after our parents died. But the money was never enough to pay off the creditors after our parent’s estate. Then Cheng Huang offered me a deal - enough money to pay off all the debts, for a lifetime of my work.”

Everyone looked at him with varying degrees of surprise and shock. Pei Sijing was visibly distressed.

“Well.” Zhao Yuanzhou looked grimly at the second floor. “That gives us several scores to settle with that old fox.”

“Somehow I doubt we can just go up and ask nicely to see him,” said Zhuo Yichen. 

“Then don’t ask nicely,” threw in Li Lun, letting some of his yao power trail from his hands suggestively.

“No. I don’t want to cause a scene,” responded Zhuo Yichen firmly.

“I think he’ll want to see me,” Wen Xiao spoke up confidently. She undid the ties of her cloak at her throat. “If the Baize Goddess meant as much to him as the mountain gods claimed, he’ll be curious enough to come out of his lair.”

“I don’t like the idea of using you as bait,” Zhuo Yichen frowned.

“I’ll be fine. Besides I’ve got three great yao to protect me. And if all else fails we can go back to Li Lun’s suggestion.”

Li Lun grinned wolfishly. So did Pei Sijing.

Trying to ward off the destructive inclination of his team, Zhuo Yichen nodded slowly at Wen Xiao. “Okay, we’ll try it.”

Wen Xiao slipped the cloak from her shoulders and stepped forward. Immediately all eyes turned to her. Even the pipa player stopped playing. The light from the lanterns caught the silver accents of her white robes, giving her an ethereal glow.

“The Baize Goddess wishes to see Cheng Huang.”

Her voice wasn’t loud or forceful, but it fell into the hushed silence like a thunderclap. The dancing and music had stopped, the background noise had fallen silent, some even held their breath entirely. Everyone waited. And waited.

“You’re not her.” Suddenly he was there, at the top of the stairs leading to the second floor. His voice spoke of disappointment, of guilt, of bitter longing.

“I am the Baize Goddess. Although perhaps not the one you once knew. Tell me, Cheng Huang, do you look at me with hope, or with fear?”

Cheng Huang didn’t respond. His hands trembled slightly as he clutched the fabric of his robes. He was dressed in very simple, cream-coloured robes and although his appearance was still youthful, he carried himself as one burdened with countless of years. In the face of Wen Xiao’s confidence, he appeared fragile. The only nod to his yao heritage were the small antler nubs protruding from either side of his head.

Wen Xiao moved towards the stairs and began to slowly walk up towards Cheng Huang. Zhuo Yichen glanced at Zhao Yuanzhou uncertainly.

“Go,” the yao told him. “I’ll stay here and keep an eye on everything.”

“Don’t let Li Lun get in trouble,” Zhuo Yichen told him sternly. “And don’t let Bai Jiu be carried off somewhere.”

Zhao Yuanzhou nodded with an exasperated smile and Zhuo Yichen rushed to Wen Xiao’s side. He kept a few steps behind her as he followed.

They reached the landing at the top of the stairs and wordlessly, Cheng Huang invited them into his private chambers. They were sumptuously furnished, speaking to the wealth and he extravagance he enjoyed as the owner of Tianxiang Pavilion.

Wen Xiao seated herself at a carved rosewood table, inlaid with ivory and mother-of-pearl. The tea set was made of porcelain so fine it was almost translucent. Several young male and female servants stood at the edges of the room. Zhuo Yichen waved them all out and began to serve tea himself.

Cheng Huang sat down across from Wen Xiao, watching Zhuo Yichen curiously. “I don’t remember you, little dragon. But your power feels familiar.”

Zhuo Yichen didn’t like Cheng Huang’s level of familiarity. “Bing Yi was my ancestor,” he replied coldly.

“Bing Yi? When I saw him last he had been changed to a human and was leaving the Great Wilderness, never to return. How did you come by a yao core?”

“It’s a long story.” Zhuo Yichen was in no mood to talk about himself. He set a teacup in front of Cheng Huang. “We’re here to hear your story.”

Cheng Huang raised the teacup to his lips and sipped thoughtfully. He sat back, eyes travelling between Zhuo Yichen and Wen Xiao. “Why?” he finally asked.

This time it was Wen Xiao who spoke. “As I’m sure you’ve noticed, I’m unable to summon the power of the Baize Goddess even though my master gave me the token before she died.”

“Did she not teach you the summoning spell?”

“There was much she wasn’t able to teach me. Will you?”

Cheng Huang shrugged, a graceful roll of his shoulder. “I don’t feel particularly inclined to help you with anything.”

Wen Xiao switched tactics. “Then tell us about the black flute. The one capable of controlling malicious energy.”

Cheng Huang paled visibly. The teacup slipped from his fingers and rattled against the tabletop. “Impossible,” he murmured. “I made sure it could never be found again.”

“Not sure enough,” Zhuo Yichen threw in. “Someone named Wen Zongyu has found it. He killed the last Baize Goddess, and has now destroyed the Kunlun Gate and the formation protecting the Great Wilderness.”

“Why should I care about the Great Wilderness?” Cheng Huang asked dismissively. He had recovered his composure, his voice now dripping with derision. “I care nothing for the Baize Goddess or what happens to her lineage.”

“But you did once,” spoke Wen Xiao. “And if you won’t help to honour her memory, then you will do it because you owe her.”

“And if I refuse?” scoffed Cheng Huang. “What can you do? Try to seal me again?”

“I can release you.” Wen Xiao spoke quietly.

Cheng Huang stared at her, eyes widening.

“You cannot die can you?” Wen Xiao spoke knowingly. “The remnants of her seal on you prevent you from destroying your core. Prevent you from the oblivion you crave and from the opportunity of finding her again in another lifetime.”

There was silence. Zhuo Yichen tried not to openly gape at Wen Xiao’s words, caught aback by her insight and understanding of the yao. He poured everyone another cup of tea to keep his hands busy.

Cheng Huang reached for the teacup and drank absentmindedly. He was quiet for a long time, swirling the final sip of tea around and around in the teacup.

“I’ll tell you what you want to know,” he said finally in a soft and broken voice. “But only to you.”

Wen Xiao nodded and glanced at Zhuo Yichen. He hesitated, not wanting to leave her alone with Cheng Huang but she threw him a look that brooked no refusal. 

“I’ll be right outside,” he said, looking at Cheng Huang.

He left the room and stepped up to the balcony, eyes sweeping over the ground floor. Zhao Yuanzhou immediately looked up with a smile and waved. The yao was seated at a small table with a pitcher of wine. Several of the establishment’s veiled women surrounded him. Zhuo Yichen’s eyes narrowed at the sight and he felt something dark and possessive coil in his gut.

Mine, he mouthed and Zhao Yuanzhou sat back with a smug smile. He waved the women away, raising the wine as if in a toast.

Yours, he replied, mouth silently forming the words.

Momentarily satisfied, Zhuo Yichen looked around for the rest of his team. Pei Sijing and Pei Siheng were still in a corner, sitting quietly beside each other. Li Lun was standing by a table where several seated players were avidly betting on a dice game. To his consternation, he recognized Bai Jiu as one of the seated players. Li Lun whispered in his ear and Bai Jiu played the winning move. Cries of outrage rose from the other players as Bai Jiu leaned back with a huge grin on his face and Li Lun smirked in satisfaction.

Zhuo Yichen looked at Zhao Yuanzhou and gestured emphatically at the two. Zhao Yuanzhou just shrugged lazily and took another drink. Zhuo Yichen waved his hands angrily, annoyed at the lack of discipline his team was showing. They were on a case, not a pleasure outing to indulge in various vices.

Just then, a flurry of movement in the corner of his eyes caught his attention. Zhuo Yichen looked up - half-hidden by the support columns, several dark-clad figures appeared on the upper floors of the establishment, each drawing back a bow with an arrow already notched. He had no time to wonder where these archers had come from. He drew his sword and swung, a wave of icy blue yao power spreading forth from him in an ever-growing arc. Most of the arrows were neatly sliced in half, falling harmlessly to the ground below. Several others thunked into columns and support beams below; one embedded itself into the table at which Zhao Yuanzhou was sitting, the fletching at the end still quivering.

Screams and chaos erupted inside Tianxiang Pavilion. Zhuo Yichen had already dashed up the stairs to the third floor, while Zhao Yuanzhou effortlessly leapt up through the air to land lightly beside him. Li Lun and Pei Sijing stayed on the ground floor, standing back-to-back as they stood ready to face another attack.

“So much for not causing a scene,” Zhao Yuanzhou grinned and released a blast of yao power which flung several of the advancing black-clad figures over the balcony.

Zhuo Yichen didn’t respond as he settled into a comfortable stance, sword gripped firmly and bouncing on the balls of his feet. He felt Zhao Yuanzhou at his back; the yao’s presence brought a grin to Zhuo Yichen’s face - their attackers had no idea what was coming at them.

They moved as one, scarlet and blue yao power swirling intertwined around them. Most of the archers began to direct their arrows at them, but few managed to get even close. The ones Zhao Yuanzhou wasn’t able to sweep aside with his umbrella, Zhuo Yichen deftly sliced in half with his sword. As the attackers ran out of arrows, they switched to hidden blades, scaling down the columns and engaging in close combat.

But they were no match for the two yao. Zhuo Yichen wielded his Yunguang sword with deadly grace, eyes glinting with ice cold blue and the yao marks on his neck crackling as they spread higher. Zhao Yuanzhou was fiery poetry in motion as he matched each movement with Zhuo Yichen’s. Soon, no more arrows flew at them, no more attackers sprang forward from the shadows.

It was too early to rejoice about victory, however. A loud, sharp cry reached their ears and they both turned with a curse.

“Wen Xiao!” cried Zhuo Yichen, already running towards where he had left her. He cursed himself for his stupidity. He and Zhao Yuanzhou had never been the targets, they had been the distraction.

Pei Sijing and Li Lun reached Cheng Huang’s private chambers first. Li Lun kicked open the door violently and ripped down the gauzy curtains which obstructed the view. Pei Sijing was right on his heels, arrow nocked on her bow. When Zhuo Yichen and Zhao Yuanzhou came running up, they looked wide-eyed at the scene which greeted their eyes.

Wen Xiao stood in the centre of the room, eyes closed in concentration as she made a series of intricate gestures with her hands and arms. At her elbow, Cheng Huang stood protectively. Three arrows protruded from his side and upper back, red blood staining his white robes and spilling down his chin. He was deathly pale, sweat beading on his brow and lips clenched in pained a grimace, but he remained on his feet.

Several black-clad bodies were strewn on the floor all around the room. Still more advanced, now more cautiously with the arrived reinforcements.

Wen Xiao’s eyes snapped open, pupils gleaming a brilliant gold. Tendrils of golden light began to swirl around her, casting a shining glow around the room. The light coalesced into a single spot just in front of Wen Xiao and as the symbol of the Baize Goddess shone on her forehead, the white flute of the goddess appeared in front of her. She reached for it and took it, cradling it reverently against her chest.

The attackers sprung forward with renewed intensity and singular focus. Cheng Huang snarled and tried to stop them; his yao power was all but spent, so he used his body to protect Wen Xiao.

The others rushed forward, joining in the fray and making quick work of their opponents. Li Lun chased after the few which had turned and fled. Pei Sijing returned downstairs to restore some order to Tianxiang Pavilion.

Zhuo Yichen and Zhao Yuanzhou stayed, carefully helping the wounded Cheng Huang to a cushioned bench. He sank down in pain and exhaustion. 

With great effort, Cheng Huang raised his head and looked at Wen Xiao. “I hold you to your end of the bargain, Baize Goddess.”

Wen Xiao nodded gravely. She brought the flute to her lips and began to play a simple melody. The notes thrummed with power, weaving around herself and then around Cheng Huang. Faint golden shackles shone on his wrist and then vanished.

The old yao trembled. His face suddenly appeared lined and creased and his hair shone white. He smiled.

“Remember what I said,” he whispered with his last breath. “What was divided can once again become one.”

A small shining orb appeared in the centre of his palm. Without hesitation, he crushed it, his eyes closing as his body disintegrated into glimmering specks of gold which floated away.

The other three looked on silently. Finally Zhao Yuanzhou turned to Wen Xiao and inclined his head respectfully.

“Baize Goddess,” he greeted her.

Wen Xiao smiled and punched him lightly in the arm. “I’m still me. And don’t even think about stealing this flute from me again.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” he responded. “Xiao Zhuo would threaten me with a divorce again if I so much as thought about.”

Zhuo Yichen nodded seriously. “I would.”

Wen Xiao smiled at them. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t come to that. Now that I can summon and control both the Baize Goddess’ flute and power, I will make sure the Great Wilderness is made whole again and protected as before.”

Zhao Yuanzhou bowed his head again in a silent gesture of thanks. They left the room and descended the stairs to the ground floor. Zhuo Yichen sighed as he looked at the destruction all around.

Most of the guests had fled, but someone had picked up the pipa again and was strumming a cheerful folk song. Broken and displaced furniture littered the floor, interspersed with the dead bodies of those that had attacked them. Arrows were lodged firmly in wooden columns and support beams of the interior structure. Overall it was a mess, one which Zhuo Yichen had specifically wanted to avoid.

To make matters worse, a troop of city guards suddenly burst into Tianxiang Pavilion. Their commander surveyed the scene with a cold look of displeasure. With a snap of his fingers several of the guards moved to grab the six members of the Demon Hunting Bureau who were congregated in the middle of the mess.

“Wait!” Zhuo Yichen snapped the command loudly as he brandished his token high with one hand. With the other hand he gestured behind his back at Zhao Yuanzhou.

“We have full authority to conduct our investigation here,” Zhuo Yichen spoke firmly to the commander of the guards. As he diverted everyone’s attention, the rest of the team began to sneak away.

“Does this authority permit you to cause widespread destruction to property and personal goods?” the commander asked with a sneer.

“That wasn’t us,” shrugged Zhuo Yichen. He kicked one of the bodies at his feet. “Ask one of these.”

“They’re dead.”

“Then find out who sent them and arrest them for interfering with the Demon Hunting Bureau’s case by his majesty’s decree. Not to mention the property damage, intent to cause bodily harm, and disturbance of the peace.”

The commander of the guards stepped back, overwhelmed by Zhuo Yichen’s brisk manner and authoritative tone.

Zhuo Yichen snapped his fingers in imitation of the commander’s previous gestures. “And get your men to clean up this mess,” he ordered before striding out of Tianxiang Pavilion without a backward glance.

Everyone met up back at the Demon Hunting Bureau in one piece. Everyone plus an additional person in the form of Pei Siheng, whom Pei Sijing declared released from his lifetime debt of servitude. They decided that they would set out early the next day to head back to Kunlun Divine Mountain. The overall mood was jubilant, knowing how close they were to success.

Only Zhuo Yichen didn’t completely share in everyone’s enthusiasm. A niggling thought in the back of his head wondered where Wen Zongyu was. Zhuo Yichen was convinced that he had been the one to send those masked attackers to Tianxiang Pavilion. He was also sure that Wen Zongyu would do all he could to prevent Wen Xiao from succeeding in restoring the formation of the Great Wilderness and the Jianmu Divine Tree. He feared they would be faced with even greater challenges the next day.

When the day drew to a close, Zhuo Yichen and Zhao Yuanzhou headed back to Peach Blossom Manor together. As they crossed the threshold of the entrance gate, Zhuo Yichen suddenly remembered that he had sent over a servant from the Demon Hunting Bureau that morning with very specific instructions. There was something he had wanted to do, knew he had to do, ever since he and Zhao Yuanzhou had reconciled.

He cleared his throat. Looked at the ground. “Tonight,” he managed finally. Zhao Yuanzhou raised an eyebrow. “Come to my chambers.”

He rushed away before he could see Zhao Yuanzhou’s response. In his rooms, he nodded at the table covered with a red tablecloth and set with the same golden pitcher and goblets which had graced the table in Zhao Yuanzhou’s chambers on their wedding night.

Satisfied with the arrangement of the table, he turned his attention to himself. After a long soak in the bathhouse, he carefully washed and brushed his hair, setting it with scented oils so it hung silky smooth down his back. He styled it simply with only the guan he had received as a bridal present. His robes were new; he had paid a premium to have the tailor sew and deliver at short notice. The dark silk of the outer robe gleamed red when he shifted in the candlelight. Black, red and gold threads wove around the sleeves and collar in patterns of intertwined dragons.

Once he was dressed, he waited anxiously, hands clutching the fabric. What if Zhao Yuanzhou decided not to come, he asked himself nervously. What if everything didn’t turn out as he had planned? A tiny part of him still doubted the depth and strength of Zhao Yuanzhou’s feelings, but he no longer doubted his own. And just as he had returned the hairpin to Zhao Yuanzhou that morning, he also wanted to do this - to show that this time he was truly wiling to be the yao’s bride and wife.

Then a knock came at the door and Zhao Yuanzhou strode in without waiting for a reply. His gaze swept the room, fastening on Zhuo Yichen. The heat in his eyes immediately dispelled all doubts and worries in Zhuo Yichen’s heart.

“What’s this?” Zhao Yuanzhou asked, a slight tremble in his voice.

“We never drank our wedding wine together,” replied Zhuo Yichen softly, suddenly feeling shy.

Zhao Yuanzhou slowly nodded. He came forward until he stood before Zhuo Yichen. His hands reached out, tracing the embroidered dragons on the collar of Zhuo Yichen’s robes. “And all this?”

Zhuo Yichen bit his lip. “For you.”

Zhao Yuanzhou’s fingers clutched at the robes unconsciously, pulling Zhuo Yichen closer. For a moment, Zhuo Yichen lost himself in the heat of Zhao Yuanzhou’s body and his familiar spicy smell of bergamot and ambergris. He felt a similar wave of heat rush through his own body, coiling low in his abdomen. Then he forced himself to focus. He stepped to the table and poured them both a goblet of wine, handing one first to Zhao Yuanzhou. He picked up his own.

“This first cup is to apologize,” he said with a bow. “For the insincerity and hatred with which I first entered into this marriage. And for the enmity in which I held you.”

He drank and Zhao Yuanzhou followed suit. He poured for them both a second time.

“This second cup is to thank you. For your support and encouragement. For staying by my side. You have both my undying gratitude and loyalty.”

He raised the second goblet and drank. Across from him, Zhao Yuanzhou swallowed heavily before drinking as well. The goblets were refilled once more.

“This third cup is my new vow to you. To walk side by side with you for the rest of my life. To willingly be your wife, your friend, your soulmate.”

Zhuo Yichen had barely finished drinking when Zhao Yuanzhou had already drunk and thrown away the goblet, rushing to his side.

“Xiao Zhuo,” he breathed. “Xiao Zhuo. As you vow to be mine, so I am yours. Forever.”

Now it was Zhuo Yichen’s turn to blink away tears. He smiled, unable to tear his eyes away from Zhao Yuanzhou. All the different emotions he felt for his husband were impossible to name. But stronger than all other emotions he felt love. Love for the great yao who had both destroyed and shattered his life, but also patiently and lovingly picked up all of the pieces. Now it was his turn to do the same, wishing to dispel Zhao Yuanzhou of the burden of guilt and shame he still carried and to tell him in both actions and words that he was his.

“Xiao Zhuo,” Zhao Yuanzhou repeated, this time with more urgency. “Can I kiss you?”

Instead of responding, Zhuo Yichen curled his arms around Zhao Yuanzhou’s neck and melted into his embrace, tilting his head to meet his lips.

Zhao Yuanzhou’s mouth crashed into his, devouring him, claiming him. Zhuo Yichen wielded willingly, opening his mouth and gasping as Zhao Yuanzhou’s tongue swept inside. He kissed him back eagerly, hearing Zhao Yuanzhou groan as he tangled his tongue with his. The sound shot straight to the heat already coiled in his abdomen, now stoked to a roaring fire. Desire swept through him.

Hands began to move all over Zhuo Yichen’s body and he shrugged off his outer robe, letting the expensive silk fall heedlessly to the floor. Clever fingers tugged at the ties of his inner robes and then suddenly Zhao Yuanzhou’s hands were on his skin, dancing over his bare torso, skimming over his nipples.

Zhuo Yichen gasped for breath and Zhao Yuanzhou pulled back from his lips only to begin kissing along his jaw and down his neck. He buried his head in the crook of Zhuo Yichen’s shoulder as his hands stilled and came to rest on Zhuo Yichen’s waist.

Trembling from head to toe, Zhuo Yichen clutched at Zhao Yuanzhou’s robes. He would’ve long fallen to the ground if he hadn’t been held upright against him. His heart thundered loudly in his ears and his chest still heaved with lack of oxygen.

Zhao Yuanzhou straightened reluctantly. His lips were red and shining, his pupils so wide and dark the whites of his eyes almost disappeared entirely. His yao marks flared brightly on his cheekbones.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against Zhuo Yichen’s. “Or what’s it costing me to hold back right now.”

“Then don’t.”

The grip on Zhuo Yichen’s waist tightened painfully. Zhao Yuanzhou exhaled a shuddering, shaky breath. “Do you know how long I’ve waited to hear that?” he murmured, stealing a kiss and nipping at the corner of Zhuo Yichen’s lips. “How many nights I forced myself to wait and be patient? And every moment with you was like torture, knowing I could only look and not touch.”

The raw confession was completely undoing the last tether of Zhuo Yichen’s sanity. To hear the naked desire in Zhao Yuanzhou’s was almost too much. It was exhilarating. And terrifying.

“And now?” he asked.

Zhao Yuanzhou groaned and kissed him again. “Now, when I finally have you in my arms . . . .” He stopped talking entirely for a long moment as Zhuo Yichen kissed him back.

Regretfully, Zhao Yuanzhou pulled away again. “Too much has happened today. And tomorrow is waiting for us. As much as I want to take you apart, piece by piece, and hear you scream my name until your voice is hoarse, we need to get some actual rest.” The pitch of his voice lowered. “Besides, when I do make you mine, body and soul, you won’t be able to walk properly for a week.”

It was both a threat and a promise. Zhuo Yichen’s knees weakened at the thought. He swallowed, trying to pull his scattered thoughts into some semblance of order. “I’ll hold you to that,” he replied finally, and was gratified to hear a low growl emanate from Zhao Yuanzhou’s throat.

He stepped back and straightened his robes on reflex. Zhao Yuanzhou was right, he admitted, much was at stake tomorrow and they couldn’t risk to lose themselves in desire and pleasure. Not yet. He looked towards his bed, then back at Zhao Yuanzhou.

“Stay with me?”

“Always.”

After removing their outer robes and shoes, and extinguishing all of the candles, they settled into bed. Zhuo Yichen curled into Zhao Yuanzhou’s embrace, resting his head on his chest. He felt Zhao Yuanzhou kiss the top of his head. One of his arms wrapped around his back, the other reached down to pull his leg across his own, his hand coming to rest on Zhuo Yichen’s thigh.<

“Sleep,” Zhao Yuanzhou ordered quietly and Zhuo Yichen closed his eyes.

He could hear Zhao Yuanzhou’s heartbeat, feel it beat at the same pace as his own. I love you, he thought, the words coming unbidden to the tip of his tongue. He couldn’t say them aloud though. Not right now. But once this was all over, he promised himself and finally fell asleep.

Chapter 9: The Showdown

Once again, the group from the Demon Hunting Bureau set out towards Kunlun Divine Mountain. They used Ying Lei’s Shanhai portal which the young mountain god had entrusted into their care. Today was possibly the last day they would see the sun rise; if they failed, their lives were forfeit. The mood of the group was serious and sombre as they crossed the causeway towards the mountain god temple. Even Ying Lei’s bright smile and jubilant cries of welcome could only lift the atmosphere slightly.

The three great yao were even more tense. There was a strange feel to the air around them that quivered with tension and made them nervous. Zhuo Yichen knew that Wen Zongyu was out there, and he was likely not alone. They had conferred quietly amongst themselves about how best to protect Wen Xiao and the others, but without knowing exactly who and what they faced, it was like trying to place a stone on a game board with eyes blindfolded.

Ying Zhao welcomed them all warmly at the entrance gate of the temple. Inside the courtyard, Lu Wu and Zhu Yin stood silently waiting. The pillars which channeled the formation and had been destroyed were now rebuilt, although they stood dull and grey in the centre of the courtyard. Wen Xiao circled around them, her fingers tracing the carved runes which were supposed to be shining brightly.

“How should I go about this?” she asked Ying Zhao.

It was Zhu Yin who stepped forward. “The best time to restore the formation is at midday, when everything is in alignment. We will guard the courtyard to make sure you aren’t interrupted.”

Zhuo Yichen inclined his head gratefully towards the mountain god, agreeing to the suggestion. Wen Xiao nodded as well.

Since they had arrived early at the mountain god temple, there were still several hours until noon. The group dispersed for a bit as they waited anxiously for the time to pass. It felt at once as if each second lasted a lifetime, and yet also as if they were running out of time.

Zhuo Yichen and Zhao Yuanzhou had made their way to the scenic overlook on the mountain slope just above the temple. The atmosphere between them was relaxed and comfortable as they sat side-by-side on a boulder. Both had forced away their nervousness, determined to enjoy this time together, regardless of what would happen. The view was stunning as always and the air crisp and clean. This high on the mountain, there was still snow amidst the rocky cliffs, but the valley below was awash in verdant greens.

The peaceful quiet was suddenly interrupted by two familiar chattering voices. Bai Jiu and Ying Lei spoke loudly over each other, both vying to be the first to reach the two yao. Zhao Yuanzhou and Zhuo Yichen made room on the boulder for the two to sit between them. Bai Jiu snagged the spot beside Zhuo Yichen and sent Ying Lei a gleeful look. Ying Lei pinched him in the side in retaliation.

Once the seating arrangements were settled to everyone’s satisfaction, they all fell silent. Bai Jiu had reached around Zhuo Yichen’s back to grab the strand of tiny twinkling bands in his hair and was gently flicking it to make the bells rink.

“Xiao Zhuo ge?”

“What is it?”

“Do you ever get scared?”

Zhuo Yichen looked down at Bai Jiu who was avoiding his gaze and looking at his lap instead. His heart went out to the young man who had been dragged into something far above his experience and who deserved so much more than the possibility of having his life cut short before he had even reached adulthood.

“Of course. I get scared often.”

“Really? It doesn’t seem like it.”

“Just because you can’t see my fear, doesn’t mean it’s not there.” Zhuo Yichen looked out into the distance, thinking of the right words to say. “Every time I have a case and am faced with something new or dangerous, every time I find myself on the verge of a fight that could turn deadly . . . all those times I’m afraid. And especially now, when I’m not only afraid for myself, but afraid for all of you. Including you, Xiao Jiu.”

Bai Jiu nodded. He didn’t say anything for a while but then spoke up again in a voice so quiet they almost didn’t hear him. “I feel like this is all my fault. Like I should have done something to stop it.”

The admission shocked Zhuo Yichen. “Of course not! None of this is your fault, Xiao Jiu. What would make you think that?”

“Because I knew Wen Zongyu before . . . before all of this. He was my shifu. He taught me everything I know and I wouldn’t be a doctor today without him.”

“You’re allowed to feel conflicted about him,” Zhuo Yichen told him, thinking about all the confusing feelings he had felt towards Zhao Yuanzhou. “And we’re not expecting you to betray your shifu or disrespect him. If you’d rather not be involved with what might or might not happen, that’s alright.”

“Okay,” Xiao Jiu replied in a small voice.

Zhuo Yichen reached for him with both his arms and hugged him tightly. Bai Jiu curled himself against Zhuo Yichen’s side; his body trembled. Zhuo Yichen began to stroke his back, wishing he could take away all of his pain and hurt and confusion.

“Everything will be alright,” he whispered quietly, trying to convince himself as well.

“I could use a hug too,” Ying Lei said quietly, eyes wide.

Zhuo Yichen opened wide his left arm and folded Ying Lei into his embrace. Zhao Yuanzhou shuffled closer and spread his arms over all of them. It was not the most comfortable position for Zhuo Yichen, but he didn’t move until Bai Jiu began to shift and sit back up.

Bai Jiu looked at Zhuo Yichen, his eyes slightly red. “I just wish I was as brave as you, Xiao Zhuo ge.”

Zhuo Yichen smiled at him. “You are, Xiao Jiu. Never doubt that.” He looked at Ying Lei and ruffled the young mountain god’s hair. “And so you are, Xiao Lei.”

“The bravest,” Ying Lei nodded seriously.

Crisis averted, Zhuo Yichen breathed in deeply. He had always indulged Zhao Yuanzhou’s joking comments about Bai Jiu and Ying Lei being their two children, but he suddenly realized that he actually would very much like to have a family like this. He glanced over at Zhao Yuanzhou who was looking at him with such a soft expression that Zhuo Yichen almost felt himself melt into a puddle.

Zhuo Yichen fought the blush spreading across his cheeks. “The manor’s too big for just the two of us anyway, don’t you think?” he remarked idly.

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Zhao Yuanzhou replied with a warm smile.

Close to midday, they returned to the temple. Zhuo Yichen arranged everyone as he thought most sensible, knowing there was nothing else they could do to prepare and would just have to face whatever came at them. He, Zhao Yuanzhou and Li Lun were on guard outside the temple gates. Pei Sijing stayed inside to keep an eye on Bai Jiu as well as to provide backup in case she was needed. Wen Xiao was in the courtyard, accompanied by the mountain gods.

As the sun reached its zenith in the sky, Wen Zongyu arrived. He walked across the causeway with a dozen or so black-clad figures behind him. This time he was unmasked, a cruel expression on his face.

Li Lun laughed scornfully at the sight. “This is it?”

Zhuo Yichen frowned. “There’s something wrong with them. Their energy feels . . . off. They’re not human, but they’re not yao either.”

“More demonized humans?” Zhao Yuanzhou asked, although it was more of a statement than a question.

“Guess we’ll find out soon enough,” Li Lun remarked.

About halfway across the causeway, Wen Zongyu halted and drew the black flute from his sleeve. He began playing the same discordant notes they had heard before. Zhuo Yichen looked at Zhao Yuanzhou in concern but he just lifted one shoulder and shrugged.

“The malicious energy isn’t strong enough for him to effectively wield it.”

“But you’ll be alright?”

“I’ll be alright, Xiao Zhuo,” he reassured him. “I won’t lose control.”

Zhuo Yichen nodded and turned back to face Wen Zongyu. Frustrated with the lack of effect his flute was having, he gestured his followers forward with an angry yell.

They were indeed demonized humans. Wen Zongyu had evidently continued his attempts at perfecting his experiments, even with the demise of the Chongwu Camp. This latest batch seemed to be marginally in control of their powers, although the frothing at the mouth and the bloodshot eyes spoke much as to state of their sanity.

If Zhuo Yichen had enjoyed fighting alongside Zhao Yuanzhou, having both him and Li Lun at his sides was a different feeling entirely. Li Lun was the stable core of the centre, rooted in one spot as he used his tree branches to direct the flow of the attacks. Zhuo Yichen was on the right side, methodologically fighting one attacker after the other, sometimes two at once. The bright blue gleam of his eyes matched his eyes, as he wielded both his sword and yao power in perfect harmony. Zhao Yuanzhou was on the left side, using his one-word spells when he could, and his umbrella when he couldn’t. Yao power flowed seamlessly between the three as they fed their qi into the exchange, complementing each other and increasing the effect of their attacks.

But their opponents were relentless, driven to suicidal destruction by a mind and will not their own. Even though the three great yao were immensely powerful, they were still hard-pressed to overcome the strength of the demonized humans that Wen Zongyu threw against them.

At one point Zhuo Yichen flew back, caught off guard by a powerful roar emanating from one of the attackers. Li Lun reached out a hand to steady him and drove a root straight into the mouth of the attacker, effectively sealing his weapon. Zhuo Yichen wasted no time in springing forward and slashing his Yunguang sword across his throat. The attacker toppled lifeless to the ground. Then Zhuo Yichen turned to help Zhao Yuanzhou who was beset by two attackers wielding claws and fangs. Their speed and agility was astounding and they had already torn a gaping slash in Zhao Yuanzhou’s umbrella. Zhuo Yichen lashed out with a barrage of razor-edge ice blades. The two attackers were able to avoid some, but not all and they shrieked in pain as the blades sliced through skin and muscle. As Li Lun fended off everyone else, Zhao Yuanzhou and Zhuo Yichen each took one and quickly killed them.

“Ah,” Zhao Yuanzhou exhaled heavily, the sound laced with pain. He grimaced as both Zhuo Yichen and Li Lun looked at him. “Just tired. Possibly due to someone stabbing me right beside the heart recently.”

Zhuo Yichen was not amused at Zhao Yuanzhou’s paltry efforts at humour. But he knew that none of them would be able to withstand the barrage of attacks for much longer. Fighting with the demonized humans was draining both their physical energy and their qi.

“Stand back,” he warned the two yao at his side as he reached for his yao core with his awareness and drew on the remaining reserves of his power.

The Yunguang sword flared, its light so bright it was blinding. Raising it high, Zhuo Yichen took a step and plunged the blade straight down into the ground. An icy blast flew from the sword and immediately everything in its vicinity was encased in solid ice. Zhuo Yichen rose back up to his feet, breathing heavily. He felt drained, exhausted.

While the remaining demonized humans were now all rendered immobile, Wen Zongyu unfortunately remained untouched. He came closer, an arrogant smile on his face.

“Your pathetic Demon Hunting Bureau is always two steps behind,” he mocked. “You’re never going to defeat me. You’re never going to win.”

“So you’ve said before,” Zhuo Yichen retorted. “But you haven’t exactly been winning either.”

Just then, the first notes of the Baize Goddess’ flute rose up. It’s pure clean melody flowed like a breath of fresh air over the temple. Zhuo Yichen allowed himself a small smile of triumph as he looked at Wen Zongyu.

To his surprise, Wen Zongyu’s expression didn’t change. He showed no dismay at all, as Wen Xiao continued to play. In fact, a brief smirk flickered over his lips. Then the song abruptly stopped.

Zhuo Yichen exchanged a look of alarm with Zhao Yuanzhou. Li Lun was already rushing towards the temple’s front gate, taking the steps two at a time. Sounds of a scuffle and muffled screams erupted from inside the courtyard.

Wen Zongyu laughed chillingly. “Even the gods want the destruction of all yao,” he said cryptically with a manic smile.

In the brief moment that Zhuo Yichen had been distracted by the commotion, Wen Zongyu had come closer. Now he swiftly drew a dagger from his sleeve and pressed it against Zhuo Yichen’s neck.

Zhao Yuanzhou snarled and moved to spring forward but Wen Zongyu made a small movement with the dagger. A tiny rivulet of blood ran down Zhuo Yichen’s neck.

“Xiao Zhuo.” Anguish, pain and helplessness echoed in Zhao Yuanzhou’s voice.

Zhuo Yichen forced a smile. “Go. Don’t waste your time here.”

“I can’t.”

“You can. You have to. We’ve come this close to restoring the Great Wilderness and saving the world. We can’t give up now.”

“What’s the point of saving the world if I lose you in the process?”

Tears welled up in Zhuo Yichen’s eyes. The moment stretched between them and he briefly forgot about the dagger at his throat and everything else that was happening. He saw only Zhao Yuanzhou and the love showing his eyes. Any last shred of doubt Zhuo Yichen might have had about his husband’s feelings vanished.

“You won’t lose me,” he responded. “We still have an entire lifetime before us. Now go.”

Zhao Yuanzhou hesitated a second longer, before turning and hastening after Li Lun who had already disappeared inside the temple.

Zhuo Yichen remained still, although his hands were clenched tight in controlled anger. He shuddered at the sound of Wen Zongyu’s sound so close to his ear, the feel of his breath against his skin.

“One wrong move and I’ll slice your throat,” Wen Zongyu threatened.

“Why wait?” asked Zhuo Yichen recklessly. Despite his reassuring words to Zhao Yuanzhou, he was not very optimistic about his current situation. “Unless there’s something you still need from me. Something that requires me to stay alive.”

He felt Wen Zongyu stiffen. The lack of answer told him enough. He wondered what Wen Zongyu might want - his power, or yao core perhaps. Another victim to further his experiments. But before he could dwell on the thought for too long, Wen Zongyu forced him to move forward.

“Shall we see the death of another Baize Goddess?” Wen Zongyu asked with a sneer.

The question sent a chill through Zhuo Yichen and he almost stumbled. Awkwardly, he kept walking, making his way slowly up the steps. All the while the dagger continued to press sharply against his neck. The wide gates were swung open and as he approached, he stared wide-eyed at the scene in the temple’s inner courtyard.

Wen Xiao lay unmoving on the ground. Her white robes were dirtied and drenched from the snow in the ground. Pei Sijing knelt at her side, her bow flung to the ground. She carefully lifted Wen Xiao’s head into her lap, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

Across the courtyard lay Zhu Yin. His body was twisted at awkward angles and the snow around him was stained a bright scarlet. Both Li Lun and Zhao Yuanzhou stood nearby, eyes flashing dangerously in fury as their power swirled around them.

Ying Lei and his grandfather, as well as Lu Wu stood in the middle of the stone pillars, their hands clasped together in front of their chests. The carved runes in the stone pillars glowed a faint gold; Wen Xiao had been interrupted as she attempted to restore the formation and now the mountain gods were trying desperately to prevent her power from receding entirely.

Then Zhuo Yichen’s eyes fell to the ground beside Zhu Yin. At first he couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing, but as his brain finally made the connection, his knees buckled weakly. Blending into the snow was the Baize Goddess’ flute, broken in half. Its two pieces lay beside each other, now dull and muted with torn, jagged ends.

Wen Zongyu burst into laughter again. “Do you see that?” he crowed. “With the flute broken and the formation already destroyed, the Great Wilderness will soon be gone forever. And this world will be rid of all yao at last!”

“If the Great Wilderness is destroyed, the human realm will soon be destroyed too.” Zhuo Yichen replied. He was stunned at Wen Zongyu’s obsessive goal, and the sheer stupidity of his plan.

“Don’t lie to me,” snarled Wen Zongyu. “You just want to hold on to your yao power and use it to continue to subjugate us humans. But soon enough we’ll be rid of the yao and then humans will have mastery of the world.”

“That’s not how it works,” Zhuo Yichen tried to explain. “It’s all about balance. If one realm is gone, the other will fall too. If all yao are gone, then who will absorb all the resentment generated by humans? It will turn into uncontrolled malicious energy that will tear apart the skies. And this time there will be no Ying Long or Bing Yi to mend the rift and bring back the stars.”

“Lies, lies!” There was no conversation to be had with Wen Zongyu. Whatever had happened to him in the past to put him on this single-track path of vengeance and destruction, was too strong to be let go.

Zhuo Yichen winced as the sharp blade of the dagger nicked the skin of his neck again. He was unable to move or do anything, for fear of that blade. Everyone else in the courtyard was frozen as well, still in shock by everything that had happened in the last few moments. They were all hesitating, waiting for someone else to make the first move.

That first move came from someone completely unexpected. With a high-pitched yell, Bai Jiu dashed out from a hidden corner and barrelled straight into Wen Zongyu with all his scrawny strength.

“Let go of my Xiao Zhuo ge!” he screamed at the top of his lungs.

Zhuo Yichen fell as he and Wen Zongyu were pushed apart. He managed to catch Bai Jiu just in time before he fell to the ground as well and hugged him tight.

“Xiao Jiu, are you alright?” he asked.

Bai Jiu didn’t respond, just wrapped his arms tight around Zhuo Yichen’s neck and refused to let go.

“Xiao Jiu?” This time Wen Zongyu spoke.

Bai Jiu raised his head and glared at him, still clinging to Zhuo Yichen like a limpet. “You’re not my shifu anymore!” he said emphatically. “You hurt my friends and you tried to kill Xiao Zhuo ge!”

“You don’t understand, Xiao Jiu. This is all part of the great plan, remember? This is why I took you on as an apprentice, so you could help me with my experiments.”

“No. I am a doctor. It is my job to save lives, not destroy them.”

“And that’s what we’re doing. Saving human lives.”

“All lives, human and yao.” Bai Jiu insisted.

Wen Zongyu sighed. The friendly mask slipped from his face. “I had such high hopes for you, Xiao Jiu, but you turned out to be such a disappointment.”

He looked at Zhuo Yichen with malice glittering in his eyes. “Just like you. I had everything arranged so you could take your vengeance and rid the world of Zhu Yan. But not only did you refuse to kill him, you also willingly became his wife. Your father and brother would be so ashamed of you.”

“That’s enough.” Zhao Yuanzhou’s voice was deadly cold as he stepped up beside Zhuo Yichen and fixed Wen Zongyu with such a fierce stare that the man visibly cowered.

From his sleeve, Wen Zongyu took out another red feather and held it up. Both Zhao Yuanzhou and Zhuo Yichen darted towards him but Bai Jiu was faster. He launched himself at Wen Zongyu, but instead of grabbing the feather, he reached for the black flute held in the other hand. Wen Zongyu screamed wild curses and threats at the boy as the feather flamed and he vanished.

Bai Jiu fell to the ground, landing awkwardly on his side. He cradled the flute against his chest. Zhao Yuanzhou and Zhuo Yichen dropped down to their knees beside him.

“Xiao Jiu,” they both whispered, reaching for him.

The young doctor was sniffling and Zhuo Yichen wiped the tears from his eyes as Zhao Yuanzhou gently drew back the strands of hair which had fallen across his face.

“Our hero,” Zhao Yuanzhou told him with a smile and Zhuo Yichen nodded.

Bai Jiu ducked his head in embarrassment and blushed at all the attention. He was pulled to his feet and then stood there, staring at the black flute in his hand.

“Now what?” he asked.

Zhuo Yichen looked around at the inner courtyard. “What exactly happened?” he asked.

Zhao Yuanzhou didn’t immediately reply. He first ran his hands over Bai Jiu making sure the young doctor hadn’t been hurt by his tackle and fall. Then he turned to Zhuo Yichen and lay a hand across the cut on his neck; the red yao power tingled with pleasant warmth as it healed the wound.

“We failed,” Zhao Yuanzhou finally spoke. “Zhu Yin knocked Wen Xiao unconscious and snapped her flute.”

“Then we’ll repair it,” replied Zhuo Yichen, refusing to accept defeat so easily.

“The flute is made from the Jianmu Divine Tree, which is now withered. There’s no power in either of the two realms strong enough to repair the flute.”

Li Lun suddenly spoke up. “Bai Jiu.”

“What?” Several voices asked at the same time, including Bai Jiu.

“Before we left Tiandu, Situ Ming drew me aside and told me that a drop of Bai Jiu’s blood can restore any tree or plant. I didn’t think much of it at the time.”

Bai Jiu’s eyes were wide, his mouth open. “My father said that?”

“Your father?”

He blushed. “It’s a long story.”

“Our son’s been holding a few secrets from us,” Zhao Yuanzhou commented with an arched eyebrow and an elbow in Zhuo Yichen’s side.

“I think he gets that from you,” Zhuo Yichen retorted.

Meanwhile Wen Xiao had recovered consciousness and was now slowly sitting up with Pei Sijing’s help. The Baize Goddess looked around, first in confusion, then in dawning dismay as she caught sight of the broken flute. “No,” she whispered, heartbroken.

“It’s okay, Wen jiejie,” Bai Jiu told her. He walked over to where the flute lay on the ground and picked up the two pieces. “My mother always used to tell me there was something special inside me. If I can help, I’ll give up all of my blood to fix this.”

“Just a few drops will suffice,” Li Lun told him gently, kneeling beside him. “Who is your mother Bai Jiu?”

Bai Jiu looked up as everyone gathered around him. “Mother? She’s just . . . my mother. She was killed by a tree yao eight years ago.”

“Eight years ago?” Li Lun repeated and looked at Zhao Yuanzhou. “On the day of the blood moon?”

“I . . . I think so. Everything was red, and I was so scared.”

“It’s okay, you have us now,” Pei Sijing told him, understanding in her eyes. “You don’t need to be scared anymore.”

Bai Jiu nodded through the tears in his eyes. Then he took one of the jagged ends of the flute and nicked his thumb across a sharp edge. Blood welled up in the cut and several drops fell onto the two pieces. As he set them back together, a faint golden light flared up and the cracks and torn ends melded themselves into a seamless whole again. Everyone, including Bai Jiu, looked stunned.

“Looks like we have two little gods in our group,” Zhao Yuanzhou said with a smile and ruffled Bai Jiu’s hair.

“I knew there was a reason I liked the little sprout,” added Li Lun.

Zhuo Yichen didn’t say anything but he met Bai Jiu’s eyes with a proud smile.

Bai Jiu gave the flute back to Wen Xiao. “It doesn’t look right though. It’s . . . dull.”

Running her fingers over the flute, Wen Xiao nodded sadly. “It’s like it’s just a dead piece of wood.” Then her eyes caught on the black flute which Zhao Yuanzhou was now holding. “What was divided . . . .”

“What?” Zhao Yuanzhou looked at her quizzically as she reached for the flute and held them both in her hands.

“This is what Cheng Huang meant. Just like the Baize Token was split in two, so were these two flutes. But the token is whole again, and the same should be done with the flute.”

“I don’t know if I can do that,” Bai Jiu spoke up.

“You don’t have to do, Xiao Jiu, you already did your part,” said Zhao Yuanzhou. “I will do it.”

“Are you sure?” Zhuo Yichen asked him.

Zhao Yuanzhou nodded. “Only malicious energy can restart the Baize Goddess’ cycle. I will use my yao power to guide the malicious energy and meld the two flutes into one, restoring its power.”

He took the white and black flutes, one in each hand, and walked closer to the stone pillars. As he closed his eyes and concentrated, red yao power swirled around him, mixed with black malicious energy. More and more power streamed out from him and into the two flutes. Zhuo Yichen watched in concern as the yao marks on Zhao Yuanzhou’s cheekbones flickered and faded. His face grew pale, but still he poured more of his power into reuniting the two flutes.

Finally, he dropped to his knees as the red power around him faded and dispersed. Something fell from his hands into the snow. Zhuo Yichen was immediately at his side, feeling the pulse point at his wrist.

“Your power,” he gasped. “It’s gone.”

Zhao Yuanzhou smiled at him with bloodless lips and slumped against him. “I will have to rely on you for protection from now on, Xiao Zhuo.”

“You selfless, stupid monkey,” Zhuo Yichen whispered in both exasperation, worry and fondness. He gathered Zhao Yuanzhou in his arms and lifted him up. His body felt almost weightless as he carried him away from the centre of the courtyard.

Wen Xiao slowly walked into the space surrounded by the stone pillars. The three mountain gods were still there, desperately holding on the last vestiges of the attempt at remaking the formation. Wen Xiao smiled at them in gratitude as she knelt to pick up a single flute, shining with golden light.

As she lifted it to her lips, light and song poured out from her, washing over the courtyard and the entire temple complex. The air thrummed with her power as she restored the formation. At once, everything was bathed in brilliant colour, as if the world had been but a faded, dreary grey before. The riven portal sealed itself as the Kunlun Gate was repaired and at the base of the White Emperor Tower, the Jianmu Divine Tree shook and quivered as bright green leaves unfurled from the tips of its branches.

“It is done,” Ying Zhao intoned gravely. “We thank the Baize Goddess for her grace and protection.”

It was done, but they all knew it wasn’t over yet. The peace treaty was still as fragile as it had always been. Unchecked yao roamed freely throughout the human realm and Wen Zongyu was still out there.

One thing at a time, Zhuo Yichen told himself. He took a deep breath and felt the weight of command settle on his shoulders as he gave out instructions.

Wen Xiao would stay on Kunlun Divine Mountain before heading to the White Emperor Tower. The Great Wilderness needed to see the Baize Goddess returned. Pei Sijing and Ying Lei would accompany Bai Jiu back to Tiandu. The young man had a long overdue conversation with his father to be had, and Ying Lei accompanied him excitedly, overjoyed at the revelation that his best friend was also a half-god. Pei Sijing solemnly promised Zhuo Yichen to report everything that had happened to Fan Ying so that he could present to the court on their behalf. And she would take up temporary command of the Demon Hunting Bureau. Along with Li Lun, they would make sure any yao causing harm in the human realm would be caught and returned to the Great Wilderness. And they would begin searching for Wen Zongyu.

Somehow the afternoon had passed before everything was decided and settled and the sun was disappearing beyond the horizon when Zhuo Yichen finally activated the Shanhai portal. With Zhao Yuanzhou in his arms, he returned to Peach Blossom Manor.

Zhao Yuanzhou was restlessly slipping in and out of consciousness. His body showed no visibly injury, but without his yao power he was weak and helpless. Zhuo Yichen felt tears prick at the corner of his eyes as he looked down at the pale face of his beloved husband. He carried him to his chambers and laid him gently on the bed.

“Xiao Zhuo,” Zhao Yuanzhou mumbled, as he tossed and turned on his bed.

“I’m right here.” Zhuo Yichen took his hands and sat down at the edge of his bed.

Zhao Yuanzhou settled, the creased lines on his forehead disappearing and his breathing coming more steadily. Zhuo Yichen looked around at the rooms - they were not as familiar to him as his own but that was going to change. From now on, he would move his things and they would never sleep in separate beds again. He nodded to himself, satisfied with that decision.

“Xiao Zhuo,” Zhao Yuanzhou muttered again in a hushed whisper.

Zhuo Yichen forced all his thoughts and worries out of his mind. He took off his boots and outer robes, then slipped underneath the covers beside Zhao Yuanzhou. He curled his body around him protectively and Zhao Yuanzhou snuggled against his warm body, relaxing with a sigh.

Zhuo Yichen woke up with Zhao Yuanzhou in his arms and for a long, blissful moment, he forgot everything that had happened the day before. Then his brain registered the pallor of Zhao Yuanzhou’s skin and the unevenness of his breathing and it all came crashing back down on him. He lay three fingers on Zhao Yuanzhou’s wrist - his meridians pulsed weakly but there was nothing moving through them. He was an empty husk.

Zhuo Yichen pushed that thought away. No, Zhao Yuanzhou was anything but empty. He was still alive, still as breathtakingly handsome as ever, still the Zhao Yuanzhou he had fallen in love with.

Zhuo Yichen kissed him gently on the brow and then slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb him. He puttered around the manor, keeping his hands and mind busy. Every so often he would check in on Zhao Yuanzhou, cool his forehead with moist cloth and tuck the covers around him again. The yao slept fitfully throughout the day.

Fan Ying came by in the afternoon after having attended the morning court session. He brought good news, although it was hard for Zhuo Yichen to feel relieved.

“The king has dismissed any accusations against Zhao Yuanzhou and the Demon Hunting Bureau. In fact, the bureau has been recommended for its invaluable efforts in upholding the peace treaty.” Fan Ying accepted the cup of tea which Zhuo Yichen poured.

“Fancy words,” Zhuo Yichen replied dismissively. He had never had any patience for politics and even less now.

“How is he?” asked Fan Ying, correctly guessing what held all of Zhuo Yichen’s attention.

“I don’t know.” Zhuo Yichen’s voice almost broke with the admission. “I just want him to wake up.”

“I’m sure he will. If there’s anything I know, it’s that that great yao will overcome death itself to be back at your side.”

Zhuo Yichen smiled through his tears. “I would do the same for him.”

“I know.”

They both drank their tea silently for a bit. Then Fan Ying raised his eyes to look at Zhuo Yichen.

“For a while I wished that I had stood up for you more in court, or talked to the prime minister to help rescind the arranged marriage order. I never thought that it would actually turn into something real.”

“Neither did I.” Zhuo Yichen paused, then took a deep breath. “Do you think my father and brother would approve? Do you think they would have accepted him?”

“Of your brother I am certain. Zhuo Yixuan saved more yao than he killed, despite how he had been raised and taught. He always pushed for investigating a case thoroughly, before jumping to conclusions and blaming a yao.”

“And my father?”

“Your father was very set in his ways, raised in the traditions of the Bing Yi clan. But I’d like to think that if he also learned the truth about Bing Yi, he would’ve come to see everything differently.”

“How did something like that even happen?” asked Zhuo Yichen. “How did all my ancestors distort and destroy the truth of the past.”

“That is a question you’ll have to ask the elders of your clan. Perhaps you’ve been given a chance to correct the errors of the past.”

Zhuo Yichen thought about confronting the stuffy old men he had met a few times as a child, walking into their ancestral hall with Zhao Yuanzhou at his side. The thought almost brought a smile to his lips.

“Maybe I just might do that,” he murmured to himself.

Fan Ying bade him farewell and ensured him the Demon Hunting Bureau would be run as smoothly and efficiently as ever, even in his absence. He also told Zhuo Yichen that they were focusing as much attention as they could spare on finding Wen Zongyu.

After he left, Zhuo Yichen returned to Zhao Yuanzhou’s side and sat down on the bed. He took his hands between his own and transferred some of his own yao power. Zhao Yuanzhou’s body accepted it greedily, but it didn’t settle in his core as it should have. Instead it just flowed through his meridians and then faded. The more he transferred, the quicker it disappeared.

“Stop that. You’ll drain yourself too.” Zhao Yuanzhou’s eyes flickered open.

Zhuo Yichen gasped. He helped Zhao Yuanzhou sit up and clutched him tightly to his side. Zhao Yuanzhou rested his head on Zhuo Yichen’s shoulder and hummed as Zhuo Yichen began stroking his hair.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better now,” Zhao Yuanzhou replied, a teasing smile dancing on his lips as he tilted his head to look up at Zhuo Yichen.

“Your . . . your yao power . . . .”

“I know. A sacrifice well-worth it if means saving the Great Wilderness.”

“She did it, you know. Wen Xiao restored the formation and renewed the Jianmu Divine Tree.”

“Good,” Zhao Yuanzhou nodded in satisfaction and fell silent.

Zhuo Yichen let his head drop against Zhao Yuanzhou’s. “Will . . . will you get your power back though?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Or maybe just some. Or none at all.” Zhao Yuanzhou’s voice was very nonchalant, in contrast to the worry which Zhuo Yichen felt.

Zhao Yuanzhou chuckled and continued speaking. “You know, for a long time I always wanted to be a human, unburdened by my yao power or malicious energy. I hated being a yao.”

That revelation came as no surprise to Zhuo Yichen. He had caught a few glimpses of the emotional burdens Zhao Yuanzhou carried with him, and the depth of those feelings were staggering.

“Yao or human, I’ll still love you,” he whispered quietly.

Zhao Yuanzhou startled. “What did you say?”

Zhuo Yichen’s eyes widened. He hadn’t been thinking about his words, but had just spoken aloud the feelings in his heart. He blushed. “I . . . I love you.”

There was no immediate response but Zhuo Yichen felt a quiver run through Zhao Yuanzhou. He looked down, startled to see a tear running down the yao’s cheek.

Weak as he was, Zhao Yuanzhou sat up and lay his hands on either side of Zhuo Yichen’s head, pulling him down. He kissed him, a little frantically, a little messily.

“I love you too,” he murmured against his lips.

Chapter 10: Always

“Xiao Zhuo? Xiao Zhuo!! XIAO ZHUOOOOO!”

Zhuo Yichen sighed and hastened his pace. Zhao Yuanzhou was the absolute worst patient ever; he could barely leave him alone for five minutes before he was called back for some tiny task that Zhao Yuanzhou could absolutely do himself but just simply didn’t want to.

“What now?” he asked as he opened the doors and stepped over the threshold.

Zhao Yuanzhou was lounging comfortably in bed against a mound of pillows. He had several scrolls strewn around him to read and a bowl of freshly cut peach slices in case he wanted a snack.

“I’m bored.”

“Then get out of bed. Bai Jiu said you’re fine to walk and it would be good for you to get the exercise anyway.”

“I need your help, Xiao Zhuo. I’m afraid I’d just fall over if I can’t lean against you for support.”

Zhuo Yichen rolled his eyes with a long-suffering sigh but didn’t protest. They both knew he couldn’t say no and Zhao Yuanzhou was taking full advantage of that fact. Zhuo Yichen would’ve been more annoyed at himself except that he enjoyed taking care of his husband and spoiling him. He only wished that he would one day be able to do so simply because he wanted to, and not because Zhao Yuanzhou was dependent on it.

Zhuo Yichen stepped up to the bed. “How about a walk to the bathhouse? You’ll feel better after a long soak in the hot water,” he suggested.

“Will you join me?” Zhao Yuanzhou asked with a wink.

In reply, Zhuo Yichen wrapped his arms around Zhao Yuanzhou’s waist and pinched him in the side. Zhao Yuanzhou yelped as he was lifted up out of bed and set carefully on his feet. Zhuo Yichen frowned as he felt the jutting bones of his husband’s ribcage and the lack of substantial weight to his body.

“You need to eat more.”

“It’s not food I need,” replied Zhao Yuanzhou, this time serious.

Indeed, Bai Jiu had examined him several times and done acupuncture to steady his meridians. But as much as the doctor poked him or prepared new medicine concoctions, he was barely improving. There was nothing physically wrong with him, but without his yao power he remained weak and frail. Wen Xiao had come back to dig through the bureau’s archives but had found nothing. Even Li Lun had stopped by and had tried to transfer some of his power, to no avail.

“Maybe you just need time,” Zhuo Yichen said with an encouraging smile.

“Maybe,” replied Zhao Yuanzhou, though his answering smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“Come. In the meantime you can enjoy a hot bath.”

They reached the bathhouse and Zhuo Yichen helped Zhao Yuanzhou inside. Once inside he paused awkwardly for a brief moment, his hands fluttering in the air without knowing what to do. Then he told himself he was being ridiculous and reached for the ties on Zhao Yuanzhou’s robe which he wore over his inner layers.

Standing before him in just a thin shirt and trousers, Zhao Yuanzhou turned around so his back was facing Zhuo Yichen. He undid the ties on the front of his robe as Zhuo Yichen reached forward to slip it off his shoulders. As the silken layer slithered away to reveal pale white skin beneath, Zhuo Yichen gasped. Eight long, jagged scars marred the skin of Zhao Yuanzhou’s back. The scar tissue was like a bumpy ridge, the skin puckered around it. Zhuo Yichen gently drew his fingers along the scars. Zhao Yuanzhou shuddered.

“What are these?” whispered Zhuo Yichen.

“After what happened eight years ago . . . after I realized what I had done . . . I deserved to suffer, to be punished.”

Zhuo Yichen wrapped his arms around him from behind and hugged him tight. “There is so much more to you than just those times you were controlled by the malicious energy. I wish you could see as I do that the light in you is greater than the dark. I wish you could stop blaming yourself.”

“It’s hard to just let go. For years I carried the guilt of my crimes,” Zhao Yuanzhou admitted with a whisper. “And the guilt and shame of being a yao.”

“That is nothing for you to be ashamed of,” Zhuo Yichen replied. “Or should I feel the same now about myself as well?”

“Of course not! You’re . . . you’re perfect as you are.”

“As are you.” Zhuo Yichen kissed the top of one of the scars, gently trailing his mouth along the entire scar tissue.

“I don’t know if I can believe that about myself.”

“Then believe that I believe that about you.” Zhuo Yichen continued on to the next scar.

“That easy?”

“Mhm.”

Zhuo Yichen slowly kissed each and every scar as small shudders ran down Zhao Yuanzhou’s spine. He felt him exhale, releasing some of the built-up tension in his body. For a while, he just held him as Zhao Yuanzhou relaxed in his embrace. Then his husband stepped forward and pulled off his trousers before stepping into the steaming pool of water. Zhuo Yichen was able to admire his pale buttocks for a brief moment before that delicious view disappeared under water.

“Like what you see?” Zhao Yuanzhou threw over his shoulder knowingly.

“Very much,” Zhuo Yichen threw back and picked up a cloth and a bar of soap.

He settled himself comfortably at the edge of the basin and began washing Zhao Yuanzhou. His husband had closed his eyes and tipped his head back in blissful contentment, allowing Zhuo Yichen to unabashedly admire his handsome features. At one point he ditched the cloth entirely and just let his hands run all over Zhao Yuanzhou’s body in gentle strokes.

After a few days, Zhao Yuanzhou was able to get up and walk around on his own. At least theoretically he was able to; he still shamelessly pretended to be too weak to move, in order to have Zhuo Yichen as close as possible. Zhuo Yichen continued to indulge him, relieved that he was getting better, even if it was extremely slowly.

At the same time, Zhuo Yichen itched to return to the Demon Hunting Bureau, knowing that a lot of work had undoubtedly piled up in his absence. While he received daily reports from Fan Ying and knew that he and Situ Ming were keeping everything in order, it didn’t sit right with him that he was just idling away in Peach Blossom Manor. And yet he didn’t want to leave Zhao Yuanzhou alone, so he felt torn and conflicted.

It was Zhao Yuanzhou who came up with an easy solution.

“Why don’t we both stay at the bureau for a while?” he suggested. “You can start working again and I’ll have you close enough so I won’t feel completely abandoned.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. Besides, just think of how much fun I’m going to have! The entire personnel of the Demon Hunting Bureau at my beck and command!”

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about,” Zhuo Yichen huffed, already imaging the chaos and terror a Zhao Yuanzhou on the loose could cause. Even if the yao was still unsteady on his feet, he was a force to be reckoned with.

And so they packed up their essentials and headed to the Demon Hunting Bureau. In no time, Zhuo Yichen was ensconced in his study and rifling through the mound of papers and scrolls on his deck. Zhao Yuanzhou was lounging on a comfortable couch bed he had the servants set up near the door. Anyone who wanted to see the commander had to pass by him first. Zhao Yuanzhou kept up an intimidating expression, but the bureau personnel quickly learned that he was easily bribed with peaches.

They settled into the bureau, Zhuo Yichen dividing his attention between his role as both commander and wife. Zhao Yuanzhou was a constant presence at his side, helping out however he could. Zhuo Yichen valued his insight on the cases brought across his desk; they worked well together as a team. And under Bai Jiu’s close supervision, Zhao Yuanzhou continued to improve. Even still, there was no sign of his yao power returning. Zhuo Yichen hid his concern, but he had Bai Jiu scouring far and wide for any scrap of text which might hold an answer.

Bai Jiu wasn’t the first, however, to bring sought-for news to the bureau.

Zhuo Yichen was practicing his sword forms in the garden at the back under the watchful eye of Zhao Yuanzhou, when Li Lun strode into view from around the corner. Sheathing his sword, Zhuo Yichen frowned at the expression on Li Lun’s face. Likewise, Zhao Yuanzhou got up from where he had been sitting on a large stone. Although he was in no shape to spar with Zhuo Yichen, he was still able to help guide his cultivation. They stood together as Li Lun approached and stopped in front of them.

“We know where Wen Zongyu is,” he said bluntly.

His news took precedence over everything else. The three immediately sat down at the low table on the veranda overlooking the garden to discuss their next steps. Li Lun told them what he knew, adding that Wen Xiao had been notified and she would be at the bureau by tomorrow. The rest of the team was ready to move out at a moment’s notice.

Zhuo Yichen nodded. “Then we’ll head out tomorrow and finish this.”

The next morning dawned grey and rainy as they set out from the Demon Hunting Bureau in two horse-drawn carriages. Pei Sijing and Wen Xiao were in the smaller one. Zhuo Yichen and Zhao Yuanzhou were in the other cart, with Zhao Yuanzhou bundled in so many layers of fabric and thick furs that he took up most of the inside. Despite the lack of breathing space, Bai Jiu and Ying Lei crowded in with them, making themselves comfortable in the nest of warm robes. Li Lun took one askance glance and said he would meet them all there, disappearing in a flurry of leaves.

“I don’t like this,” Zhuo Yichen muttered for the umpteenth time as he adjusted the collar around Zhao Yuanzhou’s neck and scowled off into the corner.

“If it had been the other way around, would you have just waited patiently at home while your husband went off to face a host of dangers?” Zhao Yuanzhou asked him, enduring the constant fussing with a smile.

“Of course not.”

“Which is why I’m also not going to let my wife go off alone. I vowed to always be at your side and I’m holding to that promise.”

“But you still haven’t regained your yao power.”

“I’m not entirely helpless without it,” Zhao Yuanzhou protested. “I still have my qigong and I can also manipulate a bit of the malicious energy inside me, even without my yao power. And of course I have you.”

Zhuo Yichen wasn’t entirely mollified, but it was hard to resist the soft and trusting look in Zhao Yuanzhou’s eyes.

“Alright, fine,” he agreed. “But I want you to stay back and not try and doing anything stupid.”

“Me? When have I ever done anything stupid?”

“How about when you agreed to offer yourself in an arranged marriage without even knowing who your bride would be?”

“That was the smartest decision I ever made, Xiao Zhuo. And you can’t convince me otherwise.” Zhao Yuanzhou’s eyes fell shut as he sank deeper into his cocoon of warmth and robes.

Zhuo Yichen let him catch a moment of rest. Bai Jiu and Ying Lei had already fallen asleep as soon as the carriage had started moving. Staring out of the small window as they slowly made their way out of the city, Zhuo Yichen let his thoughts wander, hoping that this time they would finally be done with Wen Zongyu.

The guards at every checkpoint let them pass at a single glance of the Demon Hunting Bureau and so they soon found themselves on the hard-packed dirt road which led away from the city gates. The rain had softened the top layer of dirt, and bounced over the small holes and divots created by the water runoff.

The tiny Jixin clinic at which they arrived was near the main around, surrounded by a low wall. The front gate dangled loose and open on its hinges, revealing a deserted courtyard.

Zhuo Yichen woke up the other occupants and they all tumbled sleepily out of the carriage. Zhao Yuanzhou stared at the clinic with a dark look of vengeance.

“Of course,” he murmured to himself. “Now it all makes sense.”

Li Lun appeared at his side, an equally wrathful expression on his face. “And so we’re back at the place where it all began,” he commented, voice full of irony.

“We’ve come full circle,” Zhao Yuanzhou agreed. “Time to put an end to Wen Zongyu.”

He started walking forward, but Zhuo Yichen grabbed his arm and held him back. He made Zhao Yuanzhou wait until the others had filed past them, before he let him move.

“I don’t need to be coddled,” Zhao Yuanzhou complained.

“Wasn’t it just yesterday when you insisted I feed you your peach slices because apparently you couldn’t move your arms?” asked Zhuo Yichen with a raise of his eyebrows.

Zhao Yuanzhou threw him a wounded look, but then quickly turned serious. “When we’re in there, your focus needs to be stopping Wen Zongyu whatever it takes. You cannot be looking for me and trying to protect me.”

Zhuo Yichen felt pinned by the intensity of Zhao Yuanzhou’s gaze. He nodded, slowly and unhappily. He had made a similar request of Zhao Yuanzhou on Kunlun Divine Mountain when Wen Zongyu had held a knife to his throat. As loathe as he was to admit it, they needed to have their priorities straight, and be in agreement about them.

They hurried to catch up with the others. Li Lun had already triggered the secret mechanism which opened the door to the hidden underground chamber. With him leading, they all slowly walked down the stairs. Nobody made a sound.

In the quiet, they could hear the distorted sound of laughter. It stopped abruptly, followed by half-choked screams.

Their steps slowed and cautiously peered into the semi-dark, dank chamber. Li Lun had paused in the opening and everyone else crowded around him.

“I can’t see!” Ying Lei whispered loudly, trying to squeeze through.

“Nobody move.”

The command came simultaneously from both Li Lun and Zhao Yuanzhou. Zhuo Yichen frowned, wondering what they had noticed, that everyone else had missed.

There were two figures in the chamber. One was standing upright beside a stone pillar, barely moving. The awkward set of the arms and shoulders hinted at a set of chains and manacles. Long grey hair tumbled down in a curly mass over the figure’s back, obscuring the face.

The other person was Wen Zongyu, now writhing on the floor in what Zhuo Yichen hoped was agony. His entire body began to spasm, before lying there motionless.

“Cover your mouths and nose,” Wen Xiao spoke up. “Try to breathe as shallowly as possible. And don’t touch anything.”

She stepped forward, ignoring Wen Zongyu and stooping in front of the chained figure. “Fei?” she asked in a quiet voice.

Fei. Zhuo Yichen hastily brought his sleeve up to cover the lower half of his face at the mention of that name. Everyone had heard of the yao who brought plague and death everywhere he went.

Fei lifted his head to look at Wen Xiao through bloodshot eyes. He coughed and licked his cracked lips. “It was the only way to stop him,” he told her hoarsely.

Wen Xiao unstoppered the water flask she carried at her waist and brought it Fei’s mouth. He sipped carefully.

“He wanted my blood,” he continued, his voice a little clearer. “I don’t know what he wanted to do with it . . . but my blood spreads the plague. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“So what did you do?”

“I gave him my core. I told him if he had my core he wouldn’t need to rely on me for my blood anymore. So he took it.” A proud smile appeared on Fei’s bruised and bloody face. “He didn’t understand that if his inner strength isn’t powerful enough to master the yao core, he would be consumed by it.”

“But then if you have no core . . . .” Wen Xiao’s voice trailed off. She lay a comforting hand against Fei’s cheek as he smiled at again.

“If you . . . if you ever see Qing Geng . . . tell her I loved her.” Fei’s voice faded and his head dropped to his chest. His body was consumed by golden sparkles which drifted away and disappeared, leaving only an empty set of manacles dangling from rusty chains.

There was a long moment of silence.

“You’d be hard pressed to find someone with a kinder heart than Fei,” Zhao Yuanzhou murmured quietly to Zhuo Yichen. “Or someone more lonely. I both envied and pitied him.”

“I only hope he’s the last to suffer because of Wen Zongyu,” replied Zhuo Yichen, seething anger in his voice.

“We’ll make sure of that,” Zhao Yuanzhou responded.

Not knowing whether anything other than Wen Zongyu had also been infected with the plague in that underground chamber, Wen Xiao decided to cleanse the entire clinic. Drawing on her power, she filled the dark space with her golden light. She gathered some of the tears running freely down her cheeks for Fei and infused with them her power. The tears became bright shining droplets, spinning around the room along the trails of golden light.

“And now we should burn this place to the ground,” Li Lun suggested.

Everyone nodded their heads vigorously in approval. They all headed back up the stairs, leaving Wen Zongyu’s corpse where it lay.

In the clinic, Bai Jiu spotted some old scrolls on a shelf and took one down. He carefully pulled it from its cloth cover and unfurled the bamboo strips.

“Help me pack these up,” he asked Ying Lei who was peering over his shoulder.

“What are they about?”

“Medicinal treatises. Primarily about yao and how their cores function.”

“Do you think there’s something in here to help Zhao Yuanzhou?”

“Maybe. Now carry these out but be careful! They’re all old and fragile.”

Ying Lei bobbed his head and proceeded to follow Bai Jiu’s instructions. Zhuo Yichen sent a hopeful look in Zhao Yuanzhou’s direction, who merely shrugged and smiled in response.

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “Stop worrying so much, or you’ll have permanent frown lines on that pretty face of yours.”

“I’ll never stop worrying about you,” Zhuo Yichen retorted.

In response, Zhao Yuanzhou grabbed his hand and pulled him close. Zhuo Yichen let out a surprised squeak as he found himself held tight against his husband.

“Feeling better, are you?” he grumbled as he tried to extricate himself.

“Just holding you in my arms for a moment is enough to sustain me for a lifetime.”

“Shameless,” Zhuo Yichen said, but his voice was soft and the corner of his lips twitched in a smile.

Pei Sijing fixed them both with a glare as she walked past. “If you two are done flirting, we’d like to set this place on fire.”

Suitably chastened, they broke apart.

“Pei daren,” Zhao Yuanzhou bowed his head in apology and extended his arm. “Please, after you.”

Pei Sijing walked out of the clinic without a backward glance. Zhao Yuanzhou winked at Zhuo Yichen and they quickly followed after her.

At a safe distance from the clinic, they watched the flames lick higher and higher, soon engulfing the entire structure. Even with the light drizzle of rain, the entire clinic blazed bright and merrily.

“It’s finally over,” Zhuo Yichen whispered in relief. He hadn’t realized how much stress he had felt from the constant looming threat of Wen Zongyu. From now on, he thought, the fragile peace treaty finally had a chance had becoming strong and enduring.

They returned to Tiandu, reporting to Fan Ying who then shared the news of Wen Zongyu’s demise and involvement in the entire affair to the court. They had salvaged enough notes from the clinic which proved the misguided doctor’s experimentation. Apparently they had been going on for years and the number of yao which had died under the guise of treatment would never be fully known.

When Fan Ying returned from the court, he was not alone. Servants scurried around the bureau complex as the guards announced at the front that the prime minister himself was coming for a visit.

Zhuo Yichen and Zhao Yuanzhou waited on the steps in front of the meeting hall, as Fan Ying escorted the prime minister across the courtyard. They greeted him formally and invited him inside. Tea was served and small talk exchanged before the prime minister fixed his gaze on Zhuo Yichen.

“His majesty is pleased with the work of the Demon Hunting Bureau.”

“This humble servant is not worthy of his majesty’s regard,” replied Zhuo Yichen with a low bow.

The prime minister’s voice changed to something sharper and more informal. “With the Chongwu Camp dissolved, the Demon Hunting Bureau now holds primary responsibility for any affairs which deal with yao. Some say that is too much responsibility, especially with rumours that more and more of its members are yao themselves.”

“Everyone under my command is committed to upholding the peace treaty,” responded Zhuo Yichen. “Human or yao is irrelevant. We all have a role to play in ensuring peace between the two realms.”

“I agree of course,” the prime minister responded smoothly. “But there are some who argue about balance and proper representation. Especially considering the commander himself is a yao.”

Zhao Yuanzhou frowned at the veiled insult. Zhuo Yichen looked at him and shook his head.

“A matter I had no choice in. Similarly to the marriage which was arranged for me. To a yao."

“And the court recognizes Zhuo da ren’s willingness and commitment to his majesty’s decrees.” A careful pause. “Still, one must wonder where your loyalty lies.”

Zhuo Yichen was tired and annoyed with this line of questioning. He stood. “As a humble subject of his majesty, my loyalty is to the king. As a great yao, I am sworn to protect the Great Wilderness. And as a wife,” he looked at Zhao Yuanzhou, “My loyalty and love are to my husband.”

The prime minister stood as well. “See to it that the order doesn’t change, Zhuo da ren,” he said, dropping all pretence of subtlety.

“See to it that I don’t have reason to feel conflicted about my loyalties,” retorted Zhuo Yichen. “Thank you for your visit Prime Minister. We won’t be seeing you off.”

“What a delightful visit,” Zhao Yuanzhou remarked flippantly after the prime minister had left the hall. The expression on his face turned serious. “I never realized what it must be like for you."

Zhuo Yichen turned to him. “Realized what?”

“What it would mean for you to have turned into a yao. It was not something I considered when Li Lun and I discussed it. We only meant to save your life.”

“I have no regrets,” Zhuo Yichen reassured him. “And who knows? Maybe I won’t always be the commander of the Demon Hunting Bureau. Maybe we’ll both wander the Great Wilderness for a time.”

“I like the sounds of that,” Zhao Yuanzhou smiled. “And perhaps we’ll be able to do that sooner than later."

Zhuo Yichen glanced at the mysterious expression on Zhao Yuanzhou’s face. “What do you mean?”

“Bai Jiu wanted to see us earlier. He said he may have found something in an old scroll.”

The cautious hope Zhuo Yichen had been holding on to suddenly flared. He immediately set off in search of the young doctor, calling for him loudly. They found him in the kitchen with Ying Lei, working together on a new concoction of sorts.

Upon seeing them, Bai Jiu jumped off the counter on which he had been sitting and dragged them both out to the garden for more privacy. Along the way he chattered excitedly.

“I found something that mentions the irreversible effects of draining yao power. But then in a separate scroll there I read something else.” He blushed suddenly. “It was about transferring yao power.”

“I’ve already tried that and it didn’t work.”

“This is different! It’s less about the transfer and more about the exchange. Both yao power and qi. As they circulate between . . . between two bodies, the yao power is shared and can be increased significantly.”

Zhao Yuanzhou looked at Bai Jiu, at first in confusion and then with a knowing gleam in his eyes. He chuckled softly to himself.

“Of course. The one thing we haven’t tried yet.”

“I don’t get it, Xiao Jiu. What do you mean by exchange?”

Bai Jiu blushed again and Zhao Yuanzhou smirked. Zhuo Yichen glared at them both, not understanding what they clearly knew.

“Here.” They had reached the garden and Bai Jiu walked over to a table covered in scrolls. He picked up a small one and gave it to Zhuo Yichen. “The pictures explain how it’s done.”

Zhuo Yichen unfurled the silk scroll and immediately dropped it. His entire face flamed bright red. Laughing, Zhao Yuanzhou picked up the scroll and examined it carefully, a finger tracing the outline of the inked illustrations.

“This position is quite intriguing,” he mused. “Don’t you think, Xiao Zhuo?”

“What . . . what . . . is this?” stuttered Zhuo Yichen, completely flustered. He refused to look at the scroll.

Zhao Yuanzhou stepped closer, his breath ghosting past Zhuo Yichen’s ear. “This, my dearest wife, is called dual cultivation."

“You can keep the scroll,” Bai Jiu told them, his face almost as red as Zhuo Yichen’s as he scurried off.

Zhao Yuanzhou rolled the scroll back up and tucked it safely in his sleeves. “I seem to recall that we never went on a honeymoon after we got married. Perhaps we should do so now, what do you think, Xiao Zhuo?”

Not trusting himself to speak, Zhuo Yichen could only nod. Now that the initial shock of seeing the scroll had worn off, other feelings were quickly coming to the surface - curiousity and anticipation being the two strongest.

Before they could just disappear for a time, however, there were things to be discussed and arrangements to be made. Pei Sijing was officially made the vice commander of the Demon Hunting Bureau, with the authority to make decisions on Zhuo Yichen’s behalf in his absence. She accepted her new token with a solemn nod and Zhuo Yichen knew that he could count on her to keep everything in order.

He suddenly realized that having a team to rely on also meant that he was able to better fulfill all his responsibilities. He had his role in Tiandu with the bureau, but he could also comfortably leave things in Pei Sijing’s hands and spend time in the Great Wilderness as a great yao. Splitting his time didn’t mean his loyalties were divided, he realized, thinking back to the earlier conversation with the Prime Minister.

And right now, he had a husband who needed to regain his yao power.

Standing beside the basin in the inner courtyard of the bureau, Zhuo Yichen and Zhao Yuanzhou bid a temporary farewell to the team, promising to be back soon. Zhao Yuanzhou held up the Shanhai portal with one hand, his other hand wrapping around one Zhuo Yichen’s waist.

“There’s a place I want to show you,” Zhao Yuanzhou said, just before they disappeared in a swirl of light.

They appeared moments later at the shores of an immense sea. Zhuo Yichen looked out over the vast landscape, suddenly feeling tiny and insignificant. Then Zhao Yuanzhou reached for his hand again and he felt grounded, known, loved.

The rocky shore extended as far as the eyes could see. Boulders and craggy cliffs provided a rough contrast against the flatness of the sea. It was a stark, barren landscape - not a single tree or blade of grass grew amidst the rocks. The waves crashed against the shore in a constant, unhurried rhythm. The water shimmered beneath the sun, sunlight dancing on the crest of the waves.

There was a wild beauty in the desolation of that place, but also a weighty feeling of loneliness. Zhuo Yichen squeezed Zhao Yuanzhou’s hand, a wordless promise that he was by his side and would always be so.

“I used to come here often,” Zhao Yuanzhou spoke quietly. “I spent days, months, just sitting on a stone. Waiting.”

“Waiting for what?”

“I don’t think I ever knew.”

“And now?”

“Perhaps I was waiting for this moment. To find the one who helped me let go of all my guilt and made me want to live again. To bring that person here and know that I am no longer alone.”

Zhuo Yichen smiled through the tears in his eyes. “I would spend hours by the basin in the courtyard just sitting there. Grieving, plotting revenge, but mostly just sitting and doing nothing. Waiting for something, someone, to give my life meaning again.”

“And now?” Zhao Yuanzhou repeated Zhuo Yichen’s earlier question.

“Now I have the bureau, the team members . . . and you.”

“No regrets?”

Zhuo Yichen thought about the question seriously for a moment. “If I wish my brother and father were still alive, would we still have met?”

“I believe so.” Zhao Yuanzhou replied immediately with quiet conviction. “In this lifetime, and all the others, I will find you. I am yours, Xiao Zhuo, always.”

Zhuo Yichen could think of nothing to say in response, so he simply twisted his upper body, tilted his head, and kissed Zhao Yuanzhou on the lips. Zhao Yuanzhou made a small noise of surprise and immediately wrapped his arms around Zhuo Yichen to prevent him from pulling away. He deepened the kiss and Zhuo Yichen melted into his embrace.

They broke apart only when they were running low on air to breathe. Foreheads touching, breaths intermingling, they stayed like that for a long moment, feeling their hearts beating together in sync.

A few weeks later, they returned to Tiandu, Zhao Yuanzhou casually flaunting his yao power as he let it swirl around him like a cloak. Bai Jiu squealed in excitement when he saw them.

“Your yao power is back!” he cried out happily. He immediately had Zhao Yuanzhou sit down and pressed his fingers against his wrist to feel his pulse point and meridians. He nodded, satisfied. “Your qi and yao power are both circulating strongly. It seems you’ve fully recovered.”

“All thanks to you, Xiao Jiu,” responded Zhao Yuanzhou.

Zhuo Yichen made a face. “What about all my efforts?”

“Didn’t I already thank you for efforts?” Zhao Yuanzhou asked with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. “Many times, actually. Unless my greedy wife still isn’t satisfied?”

Zhuo Yichen clapped his hands over Bai Jiu’s ears. “He doesn’t need to know the details!”

Zhao Yuanzhou nodded unapologetically and stood back up. “Let’s go home,” he said softly.

After a quick tour of the bureau to announce their return and catch up on anything important, they both returned to Peach Blossom Manor. It was quiet inside the walls of the manor ground, but a comforting, welcoming kind of silence.

“It’s good to be back,” Zhuo Yichen commented with a smile, as he deposited their things in their chambers. The space felt familiar, like he belonged. Like they belonged.

Turning around, he saw Zhao Yuanzhou standing in the doorway and looking at him. “There’s still some sunlight left. How about we spar for a bit?”

Zhuo Yichen agreed eagerly. With Zhao Yuanzhou’s power back, sparring with him was a challenge he relished. In the small courtyard, he unsheathed his Yunguang sword, the blade immediately blazing icy blue. He remembered how he had once struggled to even summon a flicker of his qi through the blade; that time seemed like a lifetime ago.

They sparred in a relaxed manner, just enjoying the back and forth as they danced around each other. Zhao Yuanzhou began to tease Zhuo Yichen whenever he managed to get through his guard - a finger trailed down his arm, a hand resting on his waist for a second.

Zhuo Yichen was soon flushed bright red, the tips of his ears flaming at Zhao Yuanzhou’s teasing. His attacks faltered and the openings in his attempts to block Zhao Yuanzhou widened. He told himself he was caught off guard and fighting against a stronger opponent. Yet a part of him whispered he was doing it deliberately.

After he left yet another blatant opening, Zhao Yuanzhou slipped past easily and encircled him from behind.

“It’s almost as if you’re begging to be caught,” he whispered into Zhuo Yichen’s ear.

“Ridiculous,” Zhuo Yichen hissed as the scarlet flush spread down his neck. “I would never beg.”

“Is that so?”

Zhuo Yichen stood his ground, refusing to cede any further advantage to Zhao Yuanzhou.

“Mhmmm, I think I would like to try,” continued Zhao Yuanzhou in a low rumble. “You would make such a pretty sight, Xiao Zhuo, at my mercy . . . pushed to the edge, over and over, but never tipped over . . . .”

Zhuo Yichen shivered and Zhao Yuanzhou laughed throatily. “Perhaps later,” he said with a wicked smile and let Zhuo Yichen go.

By now the shadows had lengthened and the moon was slowly rising above the horizon. It was a full moon, casting everything in a faint silver glow. Zhuo Yichen and Zhao Yuanzhou looked at each other. Wordlessly, they went up to the rooftop and sat down.

Zhuo Yichen let his head fall against Zhao Yuanzhou’s shoulder who wrapped his arm around him and pulled him closer.

A strange feeling swept through him and he closed his eyes for a moment, trying to decipher what it was. Happiness, he suddenly realized. It was a feeling he had not felt in a very long time.

Zhuo Yichen smiled. He was happy. And beside him was the love of his life.

“Always,” he murmured.

“Mhm?”

“Always by your side, always yours,” Zhuo Yichen said softly and Zhao Yuanzhou repeated the words as he pressed a kiss against Zhuo Yichen’s hair.

It was a promise they had made each other before, and would make again. For the rest of their lifetime. And for all their lifetimes to come.

Notes:

Huge thank you to everyone who's been reading along and left a kudos or comment! I had a lot of fun writing this fic and leaving behind a few more ZYC/ZYZ moments that we all deserve!