Chapter Text
A weight on the heart. A clutching of a blade. Eyes boring into eyes.
“Zichen?”
The tension dropped like a sudden summer storm.
“Zichen,” Xiao Xingchen repeated.
Song Lan opened his mouth. “It’s me,” he managed to utter.
Xiao Xingchen’s bandage stained with light-coloured blood. He took a few blind steps towards the direction of the voice. That voice he hadn’t heard in years. He was convinced it was just his imagination. A senseless cruel illusion. Song Lan quickly came forward and caught him in his arms. Xiao Xingchen traced his fingers all over Song Lan, anywhere he could reach. He felt the beating of his heart, the warmth radiating off his skin, the shape of his lips, his nose, his eyes.
Xiao Xingchen whispered, “Zichen.” As if he had only just realized. His voice carried years of anguish and confusion, as two streaks of blood trickled down his cheeks from beneath his bandage.
Song Lan was dumbfounded. He did not expect Xiao Xingchen to be so moved to see him. He did not even expect to be received in this way, like he ever deserved to break into his life after all those years. Years wasted, simmering in his own stubbornness and stupidity, loathing himself; too scared, too cowardly to come back and confront. These wasted years he could never get back, only he did not know the full extent of this scary truth yet. He slid his arms slowly around Xiao Xingchen’s back, unsure. He wanted to give him time to push him away if he so wanted to. Feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his clothes felt heavenly. He did not feel worthy of this heaven. Xiao Xingchen did not push him away, instead encircling his arms around him holding him in a tight embrace. Song Lan placed his head on top of Xiao Xingchen’s, borrowing his face in his hair. Desperately trying to rebuild the feeling of him, him he had been close to forgetting forever. Xiao Xingchen pressed his face onto Song Lan’s chest, still not quite believing that he was there despite feeling his body against his. He tried to hold onto to him as hard and as tight as he could so that he wouldn’t fade away, like he had done in his dreams. Song Lan turned his face to look at Xue Yang. He held onto Xiao Xingchen tighter, absurdly trying to protect someone who had already been hurt, by himself nonetheless. He did not know what was going on, he did not know what to think of whatever this was, he did not know if he even wanted to find out. One thing was clear, although as unbelievable as it might be, Xue Yang and Xiao Xingchen were in the same place; both alive.
Xue Yang watched this little scene unfold with an incessant feeling of disgust and fear in his stomach. Fragmented feelings that did not meddle well with each other, that he could not reconcile with anything that he knew. Fear stemming from an ending approaching too soon, much, much sooner that he had anticipated. He hated it. This thing in front of him, it shouldn’t be happening. Xiao Xingchen is another man’s embrace, Song Lan looking at him with that look, that look he wanted to destroy and erase from existence. It was more than jealousy. Nothing made him angrier than his carefully crafted plans being destroyed. He seldom made long term plans, finding himself unable to. But Xiao Xingchen was his only certain plan, his rock to hold onto. This morning he woke up not knowing that his rock would be lost, veiled in the distant snow and cold frost, which was not so distant anymore but ever as icy. Xue Yang and Song Lan looked at each other. Xue Yang felt the anger rise into him. He hadn’t felt the need to do something bad, in Xiao Xingchen’s words, in so long. He felt that familiar feeling taking over him. He should say something, a snappy remark, he should hurt Song Lan, first with his words and then his Jiangzai. He certainly had the power to do exactly that. He knew how to do that; he had done it countless times before. It was one of his greatest joys and sorrows in this unfair world, at least before being replaced by Xiao Xingchen. However, he couldn’t do anything. He very well could. But in reality, he could not. He possessed all the means needed to put an end to this unpleasant feeling blooming in his chest. But, perhaps for the first time, this overwhelming anger in him wasn’t strong enough, too laden by his fears. He knew he was about to lose everything that brought him happiness and he wanted to scream and cry and beg them to stop. His time was up. As the turmoil inside him threatened to spill over, he drew out Jiangzai, not leaving Song Lan from his sight. He released the second hidden blade, spitting his sword in half. Xue Yang’s vision was getting blurry, and he could only hear shrilling in his head. Xiao Xingchen alerted by the overly familiar whistling of the metal slicing the air, broke away from Song Lan. Xue Yang could now feel Xiao Xingchen next to him. He could smell his scent and feel his hair tickling his face and neck carried by the breeze. Xiao Xingchen snaked his slender hand around Xue Yang’s arm reaching his padded wrist.
“Please,” he whispered.
He wasn’t sure if he was able to break through to him, through the thick walls of his mind he had enclosed himself and Xiao Xingchen in. He reached to find a crack to reach through. He caressed his face. The sensation brought back memories of the beginnings, where they were both still unfamiliar with the feel of each other’s touch. Xiao Xingchen’s fingers had ended up in Xue Yang’s nose or eye in more than one occasion. They had laughed it off and tumbled into sweet touches and kisses. Xiao Xingchen placed his lips in a chaste kiss on his cheek while Song Lan, who had remained speechless, watched. Song Lan felt like his tongue was cut out. He should say something, should he not? It was impossible to when he felt his heart break into pieces, while Xue Yang stepped on every tiny piece. Seeing Xiao Xingchen with another man was painful enough, reminding him of his own failures. Watching Xiao Xingchen holding Xue Yang’s hand so affectionally, he could still remember what those same fingers felt like around his own wrist, laced between his fingers, caressing his skin. Seeing him with Xue Yang was immensely more hurtful. How could Xiao Xingchen forget, how could he breathe the same air as him without wanting to kill him? How could he be touching him and kissing him? Xue Yang was there, reappearing like a ghost to haunt him, reminding him of everything in the most violent way possible. Their wounds were still too fresh. Song Lan still felt pained to see Xiao Xingchen blind. He still bore the heavy weight of having to make it up to him, in this life and the next. Song Lan was, however, aware that he could not expect Xiao Xingchen to have been waiting for him, to have put his life on hold until he would come back to find him. Song Lan in his naivety had thought he could fit right back into his life, as if no time had passed since they had seen each other. This was the unexpected gift of having such a dear person in one’s lifetime. At the same time, he knew it would not have been easy. But he would have been prepared to do anything in his power to make things right, to show Xiao Xingchen how sorry he was, how much regret he held, how much he loved him. He was really prepared to do anything Xiao Xingchen would have asked him to. He was aware it wouldn’t be easy but nothing could had prepared him for this. He resulted to his worst feelings, the ones which had allowed for this situation in front of him to even be able to have taken root. Pushing him away. Running away. Forget this all ever happened, from the very beginning. This time though, more than ever, he needed to fight. He had found himself in a situation he had not an ounce of an idea on how to navigate. He had to try and make himself look good, better than Xue Yang, so that Xiao Xingchen would take him back. He had to quickly explain everything and apologise, make Xiao Xingchen understand. He had so seldom felt an emotion he did not know how to process. He was slowly being consumed by the poison of suffering. Jealousy.
“Xingchen, I came to find you. I want to apologize,” he fumbled. He did not sound like himself, he sounded desperate, undignified.
Xiao Xingchen smiled at him. Those gentle lips forming into the definition of beauty. It only lasted a spilt second as he swiftly turned back around and uttered in low voice, “Xue Yang, I need to talk to Zichen alone.”
Xue Yang furrowed his brows. He wanted to say no. But he didn’t say anything. He looked at Xiao Xingchen’s face with a pained expression. Despite all, he understood, he really did. Avoiding looking at Song Lan, he took his basket and went on his way, to the market. They still had to get food, cook and eat, he wouldn’t let this set back their peaceful life. He trusted Xiao Xingchen wouldn’t abandon him for Song Lan. Of course, he knew Xiao Xingchen still loved Song Lan. He never stopped loving him despite everything, Xiao Xingchen had told him so since the beginning. It was something that Xue Yang could not understand. But he also could not understand how someone like Xiao Xingchen could love someone like Xue Yang. It shouldn’t be. But he had long learned that, in this world, even things that shouldn’t be, in fact were. The one thing he knew was that Xiao Xingchen loved him. He had learned that trying to measure this love was pointless. There were many kinds of love that existed in this world. He was content that he knew a side of Xiao Xingchen Song Lan did not know. He had witnessed Xiao Xingchen’s rawest emotions, his deepest desires in the most obscure nook and crannies of his soul. Xue Yang had given him all that. He and Xiao Xingchen were attached forever. Even if they decided to leave him behind, Xiao Xingchen’s life will always be stained by Xue Yang. He marched forward, not looking at the backs of Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan retreating into the walls of their home.
As they approached the wooden entrance gate, Song Lan noticed the frame jutting out over the ground. He quickly lifted Xiao Xingchen’s hand and held it when they were about to enter, wishing to help as much as he could.
Xiao Xingchen huffed, “I’ve lived here for... years, I know this place by heart, you don’t have to do that.”
Xiao Xingchen’s cheeks were pink and a bashful smile was playing on his lips. Song Lan let his hand drop, feeling a tinge of embarrassment. Xiao Xingchen was right, this was his home, although he was a bit taken aback at the amount of years he was living in this unsightly place. But he guessed the visuals of this home didn’t matter to Xiao Xingchen either way. He wanted to know what held Xiao Xingchen back in this place. If there even was something holding him back. Xue Yang? It didn’t really seem like Xue Yang was forcing him into anything. It actually seemed like Xiao Xingchen had the upper hand. Xue Yang was unreadable. He was sure Xue Yang would’ve slit his throat the first opportunity he found. He had this opportunity but he didn’t. He let Xiao Xingchen and him alone. How could he had been sure that they weren’t just going to run off. Except if there was a grander scheme going on. He looked at Xiao Xingchen, no, he could not possibly wish him any harm, he was not that kind of person. They took seats on opposite sides of a low table in a corner of the room. He did not realise that Xiao Xingchen was waiting for him. He was turned towards him, his bandages periodically darkening with fresh bloody tears. Xiao Xingchen cleared his throat, his hand coming up to cover his mouth.
Song Lan was snapped out of his soaring thoughts, just in time to see Xiao Xingchen stand up from his seat, “I’ll bring some tea.”
Song Lan scrambled to stand up as well, “Are you sure you don’t need any help?” he said in a louder voice than he intended.
“As I’ve said, I’ve got this,” Xiao Xingchen smiled, “Excuse me.”
Song Lan felt embarrassed in the formal way in which Xiao Xingchen addressed him. It was ironic that they had just been in each other’s arms mere moments ago. He did not know what to do, how to sit, how to place his arms. All that he had learned was useless to him now, how could he have been taught something like this. Xiao Xingchen came back with a pot and two cup, gently lowering everything on the table. Song Lan lifted his hands, unceremoniously hovering them in the air. Xiao Xingchen’s hand knocked into his own. Song Lan muttered a small excuse while lowering his hands back on his lap. Xiao Xingchen smiled again, gently placing his fingers on the edge of the cups to feel their position as he carefully lowered the tea pot towards them, stopping at the exact right time for the cups to not overfill. As Song Lan watched him, he felt the weight of Xiao Xingchen’s eyes in his own sockets. He was again overtaken by an urge to reach in and rip them off. As ungrateful as it may seem, he could not fight the feeling of wanting to hide, to leave, to make that weight disappear. Silence settled, both of them not knowing where or even how to begin. Song Lan wanted to hold it off, he needed more time. But maybe the whole time of the universe wouldn’t be enough.
“Xue Yang,” Song Lan said, half an affirmation, half a question, translating his pain and tangled emotions about what he had just witnessed.
Xiao Xingchen exhaled, “Yes.”
Song Lan’s inner turmoil had been all too similar to Xiao Xingchen’s own, 5 years ago.
At that time, it had almost been half a year since he had rescued that man off the side of the road and nursed him back to health. The past months had been filled out by the man’s entrapping presence, his incessant talking, his witty remarks, his teasing jokes and enticing charm. Xiao Xingchen caught himself smiling and laughing a lot more often than he did when he had been wandering on his own. They had developed quite a strange relationship. The man had never introduced himself but disclosed a lot of personal details. Xiao Xingchen knew all about his childhood, his happy moments and his sufferings and any random anecdote the man chose to share with him on afternoons where the world appeared to be still. Xiao Xingchen had found himself doing the same, even telling him about Song Lan. He had grown quite close to the man, not being able to imagine his days without him filling them. He hadn’t been truly close to someone aside Song Lan since his descent from Baoshan Sanren’s mountain. No one else aside Song Lan had made him feel so important. He enjoyed having him around to fill his days with youthful spirit, however he did not understand why he had stayed so long already. And this was precisely why Xiao Xigchen was scared. Scared of what it meant to be inching closer and closer to him, scared of what it would mean to lose him in such a moment.
“Daozhang!”
That voice. Xiao Xingchen had felt bothered by the strange man’s voice since the very beginning. He knew to whom that voice belonged to; these oddly familiar quirks; this drilling gaze on the back of his head he could feel even while not seeing. It had to be. How could it be? On a particularly warm summer afternoon where the man had just returned from washing their clothes in the river, Xiao Xingchen decided he had to know.
“I know who you are.”
He heard the man’s usual speedy hands halting, the water from the clothes dripping down in a steady pace on the dusty ground.
“You’re not deceiving me.”
Xue Yang flung the clothes’ basket to the ground. “See, this is why I hate people like you, Xiao Xingchen. You think you’re all righteous and superior and think you can’t get played by someone like me,” he let out a shrill laugh, “But guess what? You can and you did.” He took a step closer; Xiao Xingchen felt his warm breath on his face, “Tell me Daozhang, what does it feel like? Living with the lowlife that blinded your stupid boyfriend?” he drawled.
Xiao Xingchen swallowed, he struggled to let out his voice, speaking in a quite voice, “I don’t think that way about you.”
Xue Yang scoffed. “Ha, are you that lonely you’re willing to forgive someone like me?”
“I’m not… forgiving,” he said pointedly, “I’m just… trying to understand you.”
Xue Yang reached down to collect the basked, “Why, what’s the point?” he said nonchalantly. This is shit, he thought. His mind was already working to get out of this situation. He knew he could not just slit Xiao Xingchen’s throat and be done with this. He had been a couple months too late.
“Xue Yang,” the words felt bitter on Xiao Xinchen’s tongue, he almost felt sick. “You had revealed yourself more dangerous that I had thought and I want to understand.”
Xue Yang stayed silent. To understand? He looked at Xiao Xingchen’s face, trying to decipher what he was getting at, if he was getting to anything at all. Xiao Xingchen took a step closer, resuming their previous closeness.
“I don’t hate you, if that’s what you’re scared of.”
Scared? Xue Yang glared at him. He wasn’t scared. He didn’t care if he was hated. Did Xiao Xingchen know him so little? He was tethering the line of wanting to choke Xiao Xingchen to death and kiss him senseless.
Xiao Xingchen couldn’t breathe. “No,” he managed to scream. His knees hit the wet ground.
He reached his arms on the ground in front of him. His fingers dipped into mud and a viscous liquid he was sure was deep red. His other hand touched cooling skin. A leg, an arm, a neck? The smell of blood and death was becoming ever stronger and Xiao Xingchen wanted to hurl. Blood, death, violence was surrounding him until he felt a presence behind him. He was aware of being watched.
“Xue Yang,” he whispered, “why?” He thought there was no way he had heard him, having only whispered the words. But he felt warmth on his side and a hand wiping the bloody tears and rain from his cheeks.
“I had to teach you a lesson,” Xue Yang said as he caressed his face in a sickly tender way.
Xiao Xingchen’s nostrils suddenly filled with the foul smell of rotting flesh and he felt himself retch. He brought his hand to cover his mouth and nose and turned his head the other way.
Xue Yang grabbed his face to turn him back to face him. “Are you repulsed by me? Do you think I’m disgusting? I really hate you Xiao Xingchen,” Xue Yang was now screaming and spitting in his face, but Xiao Xingchen’s mind was still stuck on what he had just done.
“I tried to show you, tried to show you that anyone can be like me. Do you know how many people you killed Doazhang?” Xue Yang let out a sharp laugh that seemed to be going on for ages.
Xiao Xingchen could feel the unrelenting cold and humidity seeping into his bones. Xue Yang’s fingers painfully jabbing into the tender flesh of his jaw. “I can’t do this anymore,” he whispered weakly. Xue Yang froze, his eyes widening. “I don’t understand you… I can’t, I want to leave.”
“No,” said Xue Yang, with an almost childlike petulence, “No, no. You can’t.” He started repeating “no” while holding Xiao Xingchen by his shoulders, rocking him slowly. He was digging his fingers in his shoulders so tight it hurt. “Everything will be ok?” he asked.
The blood on Xiao Xingchen’s cheeks and bandage had been taken away by the raindrops. He felt sick by Xue Yang’s pleading voice. “Xue Yang, I can’t. I need to leave,” he said while concentrating all his effort on standing up.
Xue Yang grabbed his robes and pulled him down. “No,” he kept repeating, his voice trembling more and more with each word.
“Let go, please,” cried out Xiao Xingchen.
Something in Xue Yang seemed to snap, “Please,” he screamed, pulling the robes harder, “Don’t leave, don’t leave me.” He was crying now, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I… I don’t understand,” he said and collapsed to the ground bringing Xiao Xingchen down with him in the growing puddle of mud and blood.
Xue Yang was mumbling something. Xiao Xingchen couldn’t hear him, he couldn’t understand. Laying his head onto his chest and holding his robes in tight fists, Xiao Xingchen felt the air being knocked out of his lungs. His ears were clogged, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see. All he could perceive was the rain splattering with a violent force on his skin, his cheek touching the dirty and cold water, the paralyzing weight of Xue Yang’s body on him. He felt numb above all else. He cradled the back of Xue Yang’s head and let him lay on him, his mumbling turning into murmurs muffled by Xiao Xingchen’s clothes.
Song Lan didn’t dare say anything. They were not facing each other anymore and Song Lan could not bring himself to peer at Xiao Xingchen’s face. His eyes focused on a crack in the far wall of the house, he heard Xiao Xingchen’s taking a deep breath.
“I’d hate for you to hate me,” Xiao Xingchen said.
Song Lan turned to him at once, the pained words pointing daggers in his chest, “I could never hate you!” he exclaimed, he coughed, feeling somewhat sheepish, “It is true that at some point I did, and that was the biggest mistake I ever made. All this… this wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t push you away back then, you should be the one hating me.”
“Zichen,” Xiao Xingchen started, “it’s been… years, you know, I never held it against you. And all of this… this life that I’ve made… it is something that I chose for myself.”
Song Lan was at loss of words. He still held on to the possibility that Xue Yang was forcing him to stay, that he was holding something over him. He could not fathom that Xiao Xingchen could be able to live with the single person who had caused so much pain and anguish to them both, and to hundreds of other innocent people as well.
“How can you... how can you say that? Xue Yang… he,” Song Lan stopped himself, there was no use in dwelling in the memories of pain caused by Xue Yang, both of them were very much aware.
Roam the world. Eradicate evil. That was what they were meant to do.
Xiao Xingchen took another deep breath. Air rattling in his lungs, it was becoming harder and harder to breathe. “You may not like this, but… what I felt for you… back when… is similar to what I feel for Xue Yang,” he uttered, the words sticking in his mouth like rotten candy.
Felt. Song Lan felt as if his blood froze within his veins. He looked at Xiao Xingchen. He twistedly hoped Xiao Xingchen could see, so he could see the wounded expression on Song Lan’s face. A feeling of dread settled deep in his gut. Had he been too late? Had he been replaced? He thought of Xue Yang, a deep and agonising hatred and jealousy settling within his heart. Xiao Xingchen and Xue Yang together. Did they fell asleep on the other’s shoulder after a particularly tiring night hunt? Did they share their first kiss under the moonlight and the gentle breeze? Did they make love under that same moonlight? Had they roamed the countryside together, talking about a shared vision of the future, unique only to their two souls? Did they whisper sweet promises to each other in the middle of a restless night?
He was angry and he did not wish to hide it any longer. “Why? How?”
Xiao Xingchen rested his palm on the wooden table, feathering his little finger against Song Lan’s,“I know it’s a lot. But, Zichen… you were the one to push me away. I’m not angry at you, but… you broke my heart,” Xiao Xingchen said with a light tremble in his voice, “I didn’t know when you were coming back… if you were ever coming back.”
“So, did you do this only because you were lonely?” Song Lan inched his hand away, hoping Xiao Xingchen wouldn’t notice. But, of course, he did.
Xiao Xingchen retracted his own hand, “No, of course not,” Xiao Xingchen had started feeling a bit exasperated. He knew it was hard to understand, but he hated being judged for his choices; choices that had been incredibly hard for him to make. “When you… left me,” he pointed his words. “I had to carry on living without you. You can’t be angry at me for my choices, you weren’t there when I was making them.” The stains on Xiao Xingchen’s bandages deepened in colour, turning a deep crimson.
Song Lan knew he was right. That was the whole issue, wasn’t it? He once had Xiao Xingchen, and he had lost him through no fault by his own. How did he think he could come back all these years later and still be entitled to the old Xiao Xingchen as he knew him? Their wounds had changed them. Everything had changed. He had difficulty accepting that they would never be able to turn back time. Such a thing did not exist, no matter how evolved they became in their cultivation.
Despite all that he could not, would not, understand why Xue Yang was Xiao Xingchen’s choice. “... But, why Xue Yang? Out of all the people in the world, why him?”
“I know it’s hard to understand, it was extremely hard for me too… hard to understand why I felt so drawn to him despite the horrible things he did to us, to so many people. I hated myself for it for a very long time,” Xiao Xingchen said, the tip of his fingers turning white from where he was clutching his cup.
“Then why?” Song Lan repeated.
“Are there rules set for everything good and bad in this world?” Xiao Xingchen said, turning his face down to his empty cup, “I met him not knowing who he was, thinking he was just a stranger. You and I, we believed in treating people fairly, I did just that to this strange person… He taught me that the good and evil that I thought I knew… is not… just, not what I thought it was.” There was a thin veil of culpability behind his words.
Song Lan couldn’t say anything to that. He refused to believe him. But, Xiao Xingchen was so bright and so, well, good, that what he was saying was probably true. A teaching he had constructed himself, something he cultivated. It must be good.
“I chose this,” said Xiao Xingchen after a while, “I helped him, he helped me heal.” Song Lan still couldn’t say a thing. “I promise, things have changed. If you keep an open mind, if you could just stay… for a while, I don’t…” a breath, “I want you to understand.”
I don’t want to lose you again, he so desperately wanted to say.
Song Lan passed his hands on his face. He could not say no to Xiao Xingchen, even more so after all of this. “I can stay, Xingchen,” he said, his words peering through the gaps of his fingers.
“Thank you,” said Xiao Xingchen and reached for Song Lan’s general direction. Not really knowing what he was trying to do, Song Lan took his hand and placed it in his lap, holding it with both his hands. Xiao Xingchen threaded his fingers in between Song Lan’s. The touch felt… Song Lan did not possess the words to describe it.
“You can take however much time you need to process everything. Do you want to stay for dinner? You can also sleep here if you want to,” realizing that that request might’ve been too self-serving, Xian Xingchen backtracked, “or stay at the village’s inn.” He could not help but feel excitement at the prospect of Song Lan back at his side.
“I’d like to stay here,” Song Lan said. This would give him some peace of mind and an opportunity to see the extent of Xiao Xingchen and Xue Yang’s relationship. He also had to make sure Xue Yang was good to him, or good evil. Xiao Xingchen’s words resonated in his head. He thought they were absurd, but he believed him. He wanted to believe.
“I need to explain all of this to Xue Yang now,” Xiao Xingchen said with an amused sigh, “Also… please, be kind to him, don’t try and antagonize him, even if he is the one starting it. Act like the bigger person, but without appearing conceited either,” he stressed that last point. “Whatever you do, just don’t brush him off or fall for his ploys.”
Song Lan felt very uneasy at how much Xiao Xingchen knew about Xue Yang; all the rules he had made to keep him content.
“I’ll try,” said Song Lan, unsure if it sounded like a question or a statement.
Xiao Xingchen chuckled, the sound almost foreign to Song Lan’s ears, “I know it’s difficult, so I’ll never leave you two alone. He’s quite a handful,” Xiao Xingchen smiled, “but he’s worth it.”
Song Lan was bewildered. He was heartbroken. Still, Xiao Xingchen’s happiness was a priority. It had to be. They fell into a comfortable silence; Song Lan having moved his chair to sit closer to Xiao Xingchen so he could lay against him. Looking down at his beautiful face, Song Lan found he desperately needed to kiss him. Although they had hugged and held hands much in the same manner they used to, he wasn’t sure what Xiao Xingchen wanted right at this moment. Song Lan was doubtful that they would get to enjoy the same relationship they once had. However, he found in himself a renewed desire to try his best. Xiao Xingchen wouldn’t had been so happy to see him, wouldn’t had hugged him if he didn’t still love him, even just a little bit. From searching for Xiao Xingchen for years while not even being certain if he was even alive, to being led to a place called “Coffin town”, Song Lan decided he would mend back their relationship, whatever that meant.
“I’m sorry.”
Was he apologizing for his blindness? The fact that he gave up his own eyes for Song Lan, stayed over his bedside for days only to then be told that from now on we will never meet again? There were so many things he wanted to apologize for; that he had to make up for. But he felt just the word sorry would never suffice. With Xiao Xinghchen against him, in all his godlike etherealness, sorry almost seemed like a trivial mortal detail. The only thing he wanted to do now was to bask in his love’s soul and not worry about anything else, even for a few minutes.
“I’ve missed this.”
Was Xiao Xingchen referring to them hugging, spending time together, talking, him, his fingers? it didn’t matter because Song Lan felt the same.
Xue Yang came back to the house not long after, carrying a basket full of different kinds of food. Him and Song Lan made eye contact for way longer than what would be considered comfortable. Xue Yang had the same murderous gaze he had seen on him every single time they had met. There was something deeply disturbed in Xue Yang’s stare, which was full of his and Xiao Xingchen’s painful memories. He did not know how Xiao Xingchen could’ve ever fallen for this man. It brought chills to his spine. Xiao Xingchen had seemed to be profoundly afraid to be judged and hated by Song Lan. And Song Lan had vowed to never hurt him again. If that was how he could repay him, it would be the least he could do; to try to understand his choices and feelings. Whatever Xiao Xingchen wanted him to do he would abide by. Xiao Xingchen was the most honest and principled person he knew, not anyone would’ve made that choice, so he trusted him; he had to have seen good somewhere.