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The mountain range spread out before Song Lan as a vast, misty expanse, with snowy peaks breaking through the cloud coverage like a large creature’s sharp teeth. Many years had passed since the tragedy that had unfolded in Yi City, and he had spent all the time since trying to get as far away from its memory as possible, but whenever he looked at a mountain, he couldn’t help but remember the day he sent Xiao Xingchen away. Perhaps time healing all wounds was a luxury awarded only to the living, as no matter how hard he tried, no matter how many people he helped and no matter how many mantras he recited internally, Song Lan could never abandon one simple thought:
What if none of it had ever happened?
A crane soared past him and dipped down into the clouds as he held his companions, the spirit-trapping pouches, to his chest. He didn’t regret meeting Xiao Xingchen and he never would, and he didn’t dare wish the days his beloved friend had spent with A-Qing were replaced with years of safety on Baoshan Sanren’s mountain, but he could not help but long, still, for a dream in which they were all still alive. Xiao Xingchen, A-Qing, his shifu and fellow disciples, even himself…
He had no air in his lungs to sigh with, but the reflex to do so remained as he sat himself down by the edge of the mountainside. He had done a good job of caring for the souls of his companions, he thought. They felt strong within their pouches, warm and alive, like little heartbeats. He felt less alone with them, and he was content with how much they’d been able to heal, but he’d still trade it all to hear Xiao Xingchen’s laughter, to catch more than a glimpse of A-Qing skipping down the street.
The pouches began to burn, the light within them spilling forth past the fabric. Song Lan could barely feel the heat, but he still watched in dismay as the souls of his companions escaped their confinement and began to wrap around him. Had he done something wrong? Had all these years of traveling been for nothing after all? He closed his eyes tightly and begged for forgiveness, for another chance…
—
When he opened them again, he was nowhere near a snowy mountain range. On the contrary, he found himself in a bustling marketplace, in a town he’d never been in before– or perhaps even a city, judging by the size of the wall around it. The sun was only just beginning to set in the sky, when it had been early morning just a moment before. What had happened?
Frantically, he thumbed at the pouches in his hands, and to his great relief he found that the souls were back in their places. They’d clearly done something, though, and he had the sneaking suspicion that whatever it was would have to do with his wandering thoughts. But how was it possible? He’d never heard of anything like it! Then again, he was unaware of whatever research existed regarding souls trapped in bags and what they were capable of…
He quickly stepped out of the path of a carriage and stuck to the shadows cast by the numerous buildings lining the streets. He was sure it would be startling enough for the people here to see a man materialize out of thin air, had anyone noticed, and it would only become worse once they took in what he looked like. As aware of the jianghu may have been of his existence, most people had not seen a fierce corpse up close.
Slowly, yet with conviction, he rounded the nearest corner and walked down a side street, still rather ample yet less occupied for the moment. As he walked by a swaying lantern in an open doorway, he felt Shuanghua at his back begin to hum. In all of the years he’d carried Xiao Xingchen’s sword, it had never given signs of life. He couldn’t explain it, but the gentle energy emanating from it filled Song Lan with a naïve sort of hope, the kind that made him break out into a sprint to reach the end of the street, where he was sure the energy was pointing towards.
Could Xiao Xingchen have reincarnated? Was what was in the pouch simply the missing piece of his dearest friend’s soul? Could they finally reunite after all of these years?
All of his hopes were dashed as he jerked to a halt near the end of the street. Past it, in a small square adjacent to the market, was a little boy, around six or seven years of age, skipping from large stone to large stone. His dirty clothes were a size too big for his thin frame, yet they left most of his skin exposed to the elements. His stature was shorter than average, perhaps as a result of malnutrition, even though his cheeks had somehow managed to remain round. His messy hair was haphazardly pulled back into a ponytail, yet it still fell over his eyes; eyes that, despite being those of a child, Song Lan hoped he’d never see again.
This was not Xiao Xingchen. Song Lan knew exactly who it was. No matter how much time had passed, no matter how accepting or understanding or above it all he’d become, he would not lose the fear in his heart at the sight of Xue Yang. Frozen in place, he watched as the boy who had taken it all from him sat himself down on a set of stairs and gazed out into the distance, his face free of the malice he’d been unable to conceal as an adult. Then, moments later, a man Song Lan knew to be dead stepped out from the main street and approached him.
He'd thought he’d been transported a few hours into the future, but now he was completely certain he’d somehow been taken to the past.
At Song Lan’s back, Shuanghua continued to hum. Did it want him to run the little boy through? Would he even be capable of such a thing? The mere thought of injuring a child, much less killing one, was enough to turn his stomach even now, and he knew Xiao Xingchen was the same. Xiao Xingchen would never harm a child no matter who they grew up to be, of that he was certain. Song Lan very much doubted Shuanghua would be any different.
Despite the fear, the rage, the pain in his heart, he made no attempt to approach Xue Yang. He stayed put, watching as the man asked him if he wanted to earn some sweets. The little boy, surely starving, lit up like a firework and jumped to his feet, and in that moment something clicked in Song Lan’s mind. Something akin to a dream or a foggy memory told him that this was the day Xue Yang lost his finger.
A letter. The man was handing the child a letter and telling him to deliver it across the street. If that letter reached its destination, Xue Yang would get hurt. Song Lan wasn’t aware of the specifics, entirely, but an image flashed in his mind of the small boy crumpled in a heap on the floor, screaming in a puddle of his own blood. That would be the moment everyone’s fate was sealed.
As soon as the man was out of view, he pushed down as many negative emotions as he could and strode out into the square, quickly positioning himself in the child’s path. He ignored the rising fear in his heart as the small Xue Yang craned his neck as far as it would go to look up at him, that dirty little face full of curiosity. He held the letter close to his chest as if it were something precious.
“Woah, you look really weird,” he spoke in a tiny voice. Song Lan couldn’t help but feel something stir in his chest, something that told him he was already struggling to conflate this kid with the man who had ended his life.
Feeling he had no time to waste, he plucked the letter straight out of the boy’s hands, lifted it up to his own face, and effortlessly tore it in half.
Xue Yang’s eyes became wide with horror, quickly filling with tears he was struggling not to allow himself to shed. As the remains of the letter were crumpled up in his hand and tossed, Song Lan was surprised to find that something in his chest stirred; an uncomfortable feeling akin to guilt.
“You… you…” The little boy’s voice was a squeak as he struggled to find his words. “You son of a bitch! Your dad was an ugly pig that fucked a mangy dog!”
Song Lan probably shouldn’t have been surprised at such vulgarities coming out of such a tiny body. Still, his eyebrows raised as Xue Yang dropped to his knees to try to salvage the ruined letter, sniffling and trying to keep his tears from falling.
“Why? Why did you do that? Now I won’t… Now I won’t get any…” Xue Yang tried in vain to straighten out the crumpled remains of the letter. “You’re an awful, shitty monster!”
That one might have stung a little. Song Lan was aware of the fact that this was more than a little boy’s tantrum at the idea of not getting sweets; for all he knew, Xue Yang might have not eaten anything in days. Ignoring the revulsion he felt at the idea of interacting with the boy any more than this, he leaned down and gestured for him to follow.
Xue Yang must have been in so much shock at being asked this by someone who had just ruined his day that all he could do is blink and stand up. Song Lan wondered if he was about to run up and kick him, but he then realized Xue Yang was staring at his hand. More accurately, he was staring at his claws.
With care, Song Lan tucked the pouches hanging from his wrist into his lapel. Then he held his hand out again, not for the boy to take, but for him to curl his fingers one after the other, making his claws catch the fading evening light. Xue Yang was transfixed, seemingly forgetting his earlier upset, so when Song Lan began to turn away to head for the market, he took a step forward. This time, when he was asked to follow, he did.
Song Lan knew he’d not have a lot of time to wander around before people started raising the alarm, as back in this time the idea of a conscious fierce corpse had not crossed anyone’s mind. To not call more attention to himself, he slipped both Shuanghua and Fuxue away. He wove through the marketplace with haste, yet he made sure Xue Yang was still following behind. Once he found a sweets vendor, he reached into his sleeve to produce a pouch he’d not put to use in a long time.
The vendor took one look at his face and screamed, giving him just enough time to place a few coins down and take a stick of tanghulu from its stand. Behind him, peeking out as if afraid to receive a beating, Xue Yang pointed and laughed; Song Lan was relieved to hear the laughter of an amused child, as opposed to the sound of cruel mockery.
“You little rascal, where- where did you find a- a-” The vendor stammered uselessly, jumping in place when Song Lan frowned at him and pushed the coins closer to his terrified frame.
Whether he took them or not was no longer his concern. He walked a few steps away, child in tow, and turned to kneel. Even though the dirty little boy had once grown up to destroy everything he loved, the sight of him marvelling at the stick of candied fruits, with all the wonder of someone who had been gifted a sword or a horse, managed to bring a small smile to Song Lan’s lips. He held out the tanghulu and waited.
As if unsure if it truly was for him, Xue Yang hesitated to take the offered candy, but once he got over his apprehension he snatched it up and crammed the first hawthorn into his mouth, making a horrible sound as he tried to crunch it up and suck at the sugar all at once. Song Lan wasn’t sure such a small act would be enough to change the course of the boy’s life forever, but he was confident he had at least prevented one tragedy. Knowing it would be best if he didn’t remain in view, he straightened himself out and began to walk away from the bustle.
Candy in mouth, Xue Yang followed.
An idea occurred to him then. Terrifying, harebrained, but stubborn.
What if he took Xue Yang to Baixue Temple?
It would be a terrible gamble, in a way, seeing what Xue Yang had once done to the temple and all those within it, but if he could give this child a life, a chance, away from dangerous streets and predatory sects, perhaps he could ensure that he, at least, wouldn’t be the downfall of all he held dear. He could think of no better place to provide a child with a safe, welcoming environment… And on a more selfish note, he just wanted to see it one more time.
The only question was how to get there without scaring the jianghu half to death. The second only question was how to ensure Xue Yang follow him there.
—
Feeling guilty for stealing a cloak from a clothesline, Song Lan had left a small pile of coins on a wooden slab beneath what remained of the laundry. It wasn’t particularly comfortable, wearing something on top of his outer robe, but fortunately he had no real need for comfort these days. Holding Xue Yang’s attention had been easier than he’d thought, too, once he’d noticed that all he needed to do was look a little bit suspicious whenever he rounded a corner or took a narrow path. To make extra sure he was being followed, at one point he made it seem that he was trying to lose the boy, running up ahead only to stock up on food for the journey. Then, once he saw his little face poking out from behind a barrel, he made his exit from the city.
Xue Yang always stayed several paces behind him, but Song Lan slowed down occasionally to make it easier for him to catch up. When the sky darkened completely and they found themselves far from the city, he figured the child would be tired and hungry from the walk, so he deviated off the road he’d been following and into the nearest treeline, where he began to collect branches for a small fire.
Before finding a spot to settle down in, he whipped around as dramatically as he could. Xue Yang was clearly in view for a few seconds, but he quickly scrambled to hide behind the nearest tree. Song Lan pretended to not have seen him.
Once his fire was lit, Song Lan set out a few steamed buns on a nearby rock, laid out neatly on a large leaf. He then settled himself against the base of a tree and folded his arms, cloak falling over his eyes. He figured that feigning sleep would be the easiest way to get Xue Yang to approach.
Within a few minutes, he was proven right. The little boy inched closer to the small camp as quietly as he could, stopping and staying still to see if Song Lan would suddenly start moving. When he didn’t, and Xue Yang was convinced the coast was clear, he practically launched himself at the buns, cramming them into his mouth fast enough to choke on them.
Song Lan momentarily regretted not having set out any water, but it seemed the child was fine, so he didn’t move from his spot. He didn’t want to risk scaring him off.
—
He stayed still for most of the night, even when Xue Yang scooted over to him as close as he thought he safely could. He didn’t flinch as those big, mulberry eyes tried to study him under his hood. He only decided to move once the little boy shuffled away and lay himself by the fire, curled up on his side. Being used to sleeping on the streets, it didn’t take long for him to be out like a light, even in the presence of a stranger. His chest rose and fell with tiny breaths, messy, matted hair obscuring most of his face.
Song Lan unfastened the cloak from around himself and draped it over the child.
When morning came, after the fire was nothing but embers, Xue Yang woke with a start. He sat up quickly, letting the cloak fall into his lap as he looked around the woods. Finding another steamed bun beside him, he ate it as ravenously as he had the ones before, stopping only once he realized Song Lan was awake and looking at him.
Since his cloak was no longer covering his face, Xue Yang was able to stare at him properly again.
“You knew I was following you, right?” The boy asked him through a mouthful of bun.
Song Lan nodded.
“You don’t care that I ate your food?” Xue Yang asked again after swallowing.
Song Lan nodded a second time.
“Are you a monster? A ghost?” Upon receiving nothing but head shakes in return, Xue Yang asked another question. “You can’t talk?”
Another nod.
Scooting closer to him, Xue Yang offered him a little smile. It was the first time Song Lan had seen such a kind expression on his face, although he could see, funnily enough, that the boy already had small protruding canines. He looked like a tiny beast…
“That’s okay. There’s lots of things I can’t do,” Xue Yang confessed. “I can’t read or write, I can’t count higher than ten… But I can run really fast.”
It was utterly surreal to see that Xue Yang had been, seemingly, a completely ordinary child. Song Lan wasn’t sure why it was so surprising to him, and he also wasn’t sure if it made him feel better or worse, but either way he remained seated by the tree trunk as the little boy listed off things he could and couldn’t do, all with the end goal of letting him know it was fine that he couldn’t speak…
—
Xue Yang followed him a lot closer after that. Not wanting an arguably frail kid to continue to sleep on the ground, and wanting him to have an extra, clean set of robes, Song Lan decided to buy him some clothes and find an inn for them to stop by and do some laundry at after a good night’s sleep. A pattern quickly formed: shop owners and innkeepers would look at Xue Yang with disdain and distrust, only for them to accept his presence begrudgingly once Song Lan offered them money. It made him think on how he must have been regarded as trash everywhere he went, as if it were his fault that there were no one to care for him.
Once they were settled in their room, Song Lan quickly prevented Xue Yang from jumping on the bed by redirecting him to a tub of pristine water tucked away behind a modesty screen. He allowed for no protest, barring Xue Yang from walking back out until he was squeaky clean. He grumbled and cursed at first, but once the hot water came into contact with his skin, he quickly relaxed… and in fact took an hour and a half to come back out.
This was fine by Song Lan. By the time the tub was empty, the water was murky.
He helped Xue Yang tie his new robes up and spent a long time untangling his hair once he’d sat him down on the bed. Something about the scene was uncomfortably familiar, but Song Lan forced that feeling down into the furthest depths of his mind.
This was the first of many stops on the road to Baixue Temple, and on said road Song Lan discovered that the little boy was a pretty good travel companion. He never complained about tiredness, yet always made it known when he was hungry. He collected firewood with a spring in his step and always washed his bowl after eating. He kept his face and hands clean, and his shoes on, despite not being used to wearing them. Best of all, he talked, quick and surprisingly witty, sometimes using words that seemed too grown up for such a tiny body.
Song Lan would have once upon a time been supremely annoyed by this constant chatter, but after years of deafening silence following him everywhere he went, the small, animated voice beside him was a breath of fresh air.
When his old home finally came into view, not burnt or razed to the ground, no stench of blood hanging heavily in the air, Song Lan felt his stride begin to falter. Fear tugged at his heart once more, the memory of his loved ones strewn about the floor like dead leaves too much for him to bear. Just as he’d once been in Yi City when he was mere feet away from Xiao Xingchen, he was now consumed with hesitation with the sight of the temple right in front of him.
“Wow!” Xue Yang, bogged down by nothing of the sort, ran up ahead of him towards the gates. “What’s this big place doing here?”
Since they’d not walked by the town at the foot of the mountain, there hadn’t been any other structures leading up to this one, tucked away comfortably a few miles above ground level. Xue Yang studied the large wooden doors with intrigue, squinting at the nameplate above them.
“Bai… Bai…” He began to say slowly, but eventually he threw his arms out at his sides. “Nope. Still can’t read.”
Song Lan wished he could tell him that he’d be taught just beyond these doors. Walking up to him, he cast away his nervousness in favor of offering him a smile and knocking firmly three times.
When Xue Yang realized he was about to meet someone new, he quickly held onto Song Lan’s hand. Rather than pull away, Song Lan closed his fingers around him. He figured they must both be equally nervous.
The double doors creaked open after a moment, slowly revealing a bright courtyard with black-clad disciples going about their daily tasks, heading up and down the adjacent hallways, dipping into study chambers or making their way further out to the training grounds. Had Song Lan been able to cry, tears would have welled in his eyes by now; a lump formed in his throat all the same.
Standing before him, wearing a patient smile and a warm twinkle in his eye, was his shifu. He was younger, of course, than the last time he’d seen him alive, but that feeling of familial warmth he’d grown up feeling remained the same. Song Lan wasn’t one for physical touch, but in that moment he wanted to throw himself forward and wrap his arms around the man who’d been the closest he’d ever had to a parent.
Instead, he momentarily let go of Xue Yang’s hand to bow in greeting, relieved to see the little boy doing the same.
“What’s this?” His shifu’s voice was clear and jovial, just how he remembered it. “Has a new face come to join us?”
Behind him, already holding a fuchen as if he’d been born with it, a tidy boy of about eleven years of age tried to sneak a glance at the strangers at the gates. His robes fit him perfectly, save for his sleeves, which were on the longer side, vaguely making it look like he had wings instead of arms. His eyes were bright and curious, framed by neatly cropped bangs, yet his expression was stern.
Song Lan felt an overwhelming sense of melancholy as he realized he was looking at himself.
Xue Yang broke his bow and quickly clutched his hand again, his look one of apprehension as his eyes darted from Song Lan to his shifu and back again. Song Lan held onto him a little tighter as he nodded, and that was when he felt the bite.
No pain travelled through his hand, of course, but a dull pressure alerted him to the fact that Xue Yang had sunken his teeth into it in order to break free. He watched with concern as the boy ran back the way they’d come, quickly losing himself in the thicket of trees. As much as it pained him, Song Lan turned back to his shifu and bowed again before giving chase.
It wouldn’t be the last time he’d come here.
—
Despite the fact that Xue Yang was quick and good at hiding, it didn’t take Song Lan too long to find him. However, he wasn’t prepared for the sight of the little boy curled up in the grass, crying into his knees. He wasn’t prepared for it to hurt.
Slowly lowering himself down in the grass beside him, he stayed still when Xue Yang turned away. He waited for the sniffling and sobbing to subside, hoping he’d be spoken to.
“Go away,” Xue Yang whimpered. The wobble in his voice made Song Lan feel awful, but he did not move. “I hate you! Monster!”
If there were a trace of the Xue Yang Song Lan once knew in his child self, it was his knack for picking out words that hurt. Still, he didn’t let it get to him. He was very aware of the fact Xue Yang felt ten times worse than he could in this moment.
After a few more ragged sobs, the little boy dried his eyes to no avail and spoke again. “Why do you wanna get rid of me? Did I do something wrong? Am I no good?”
In his eagerness to save everyone he loved, Song Lan had forgotten to communicate his plan to Xue Yang. Here he was thinking he’d be giving him a wonderful new life, not realizing that from Xue Yang’s perspective, it just seemed like he was abandoning him on a doorstep. It was a horrible thing to do to a child he’d been taking care of for weeks.
He wished he had a proper way to apologize. Instead, he did the only thing he could think to do, and placed a hand on the top of Xue Yang’s messy hair. No matter how many times he brushed it out, it would still stick out at odd angles…
Xue Yang’s crying gradually subsided the more Song Lan stroked his hand down his head, until he was only sniffling a little bit and all his tears had dried up. He snuck a glance at Song Lan and seemed to relax at the sight of him smiling. When his clawed hand was offered to him, the boy took it.
Song Lan wasn’t in any rush to part ways. Baixue Temple wouldn’t be going anywhere. He’d make sure of that.
—
On their way into the town at the foot of the mountain, an older woman steering a donkey cart passed them by. Song Lan watched with growing anxiety as the cart suddenly broke down, its back collapsing after losing a wheel. He instinctively tugged Xue Yang away from the scene, afraid the rogue wheel would find its way towards him and hurt him.
The woman gasped in disdain as several vegetables rolled onto the road behind her, her donkey stopping and staring blankly ahead as if this had happened before. She hobbled off it with a curse, tutting to herself in preparation to collect her goods, only to find a young boy picking them up off the floor while a cloaked man walked over with her missing wheel.
“Oh,” she said as Song Lan righted the cart with ease and began to reconstruct it. “Oh, my. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay. The other week we saw a guy drive his whole carriage into a lake,” Xue Yang informed her while dropping some cabbages and radishes back onto the cart. “This is way easier to fix than that.”
Song Lan nodded in agreement. What he could do for the cart right now was temporary, but if they made it into town, he could surely fix it properly.
“I’m still so sorry for the trouble, that wheel could’ve killed someone,” the vegetable vendor fretted. “I’m very grateful to you…”
“Xue Yang,” Xue Yang announced proudly while collecting more radishes. “And this is my friend. He doesn’t talk.”
Song Lan offered another little nod.
“Well, Xue Yang and friend, my name is Deng Yingjian,” she beamed at them. “And this is Wheatstalk.”
The donkey wiggled its ears noncommittally. Xue Yang managed a little giggle at it.
“We’ve been pulling this cart for years now, and the old thing’s given us a lot of trouble,” she explained. “It wasn’t such a hassle when my husband was around, but, well…”
“Did he die?” Xue Yang asked without hesitation, causing Song Lan to look over at him with some mortification.
Deng Yingjian seemed to find his openness funny, though, and she laughed while collecting the last of the cabbages. “Quite some time ago now. Haven’t had the heart to stop what we started.”
Song Lan stood up once he was sure he could do no more, and, not knowing how to communicate that he was willing to fix it further if they went into town without scribbling a bunch of words in the dirt, he instead bowed to her. Xue Yang rushed over to his side, interpreting this as a sign to leave.
“Wait, won’t you stop by for dinner?” Deng Yingjian asked quickly. “I’m making some pork stew. It’s the least I could do for your help.”
Song Lan took one quick look at Xue Yang’s hopeful face and knew their evening plans had already been made.
—
After riding back on Wheatstalk with the old vendor, Xue Yang got to folding up her laundry and dusting off her windowsills once they’d made it back to her home, a modest little house with a vegetable garden out back. Song Lan focused on improving the cart with materials they’d picked up in town, all while Deng Yingjian prepared the stew.
“Doesn’t your friend get hot with that cloak on?” She asked Xue Yang.
“Nah,” he replied with a shrug. “People think he’s kinda scary, so he keeps it on.”
“Ooh,” Deng Yingjian seemed intrigued by this, a fond glint appearing in her eye. “I bet he’s handsome.”
Xue Yang, not knowing what to make of that, shrugged again. “I think he looks pretty cool.”
His stomach rumbled, prompting a small laugh from the old woman.
“Hard work will make this taste better,” she said, “you’ll see.”
—
With the cart repaired properly and the rich stew ready and piping hot, the three sat down for dinner at Deng Yingjian’s small table. Even though Song Lan did not eat (which Xue Yang explained), he kept them polite company, listening to them exchange stories of their travels and their youth– the latter which made him smile, as Xue Yang would still be in his youth for a long while yet. Once their bowls were cleared and tidied up, Xue Yang was graciously invited to sleep on a small day bed beneath an alcove. Deng Yingjian apologized for the size, but it turned out to fit him perfectly.
While he snoozed away, she remained seated with Song Lan at the table, a jar of liquor at her side.
“So,” she spoke quietly, pushing a stack of parchment towards him, coupled with an inkstone and a brush. “What’s your story?”
Song Lan wasn’t sure it would be wise to show her what was under his hood, but as he reached for the brush, he realized she’d already been able to tell that his hands were clawed and pallid. Deciding to take a chance, he pulled his hood back and looked her in the eye, hoping she’d see the humanity in his.
Inhaling slowly, Deng Yingjian’s eyebrows rose in surprise, but she made no other indication that she was perturbed at all.
“See,” she said instead, gesturing to the parchment, “I knew you were handsome.”
Not knowing what to make of the compliment, Song Lan lowered his gaze and got to writing.
I cannot say too much, but I have travelled a very long way to ensure this child’s safety. My hope is to one day allow him to become a part of Baixue Temple, where I was raised. He has no home and no one to look after him aside from me. Please have us in your care for a small while longer.
Taking the parchment back, Deng Yingjian tutted to herself again and let her gaze drift over to the sleeping child once she was done reading. Song Lan was very aware of the tenderness in her expression, and it was then that he realized he wasn’t alarmed by this. He didn’t feel the creeping dread that one day Xue Yang would turn on her and hurt her.
“Stay as long as you like,” she said softly. “It feels good to no longer be alone.”
—
A week went by before Song Lan decided to travel again. There was something he felt he needed to do, and he didn’t know how long it would take. Xue Yang happily fit in with Deng Yingjian, helping her around the house and tending to her garden with her, so he saw no need to separate them; she seemed absolutely delighted to have the little boy around, and he was getting everything he needed, including reading lessons.
However, Song Lan knew it still wouldn’t be easy for him to say goodbye.
Xue Yang looked up at him with worry, which, while better than the betrayal he’d felt a week before, still made Song Lan feel a twist in his stomach. He leaned down and placed a hand atop his head, stroking his hair gently. Behind him, Deng Yingjian put her hand on his shoulder.
“Our friend has to go for a little while, but he’ll be back before you know it. There’s somebody he needs to find,” she explained gently. “In the meantime, how about you stay here with me?”
Xue Yang looked between the two of them, to his credit not biting anyone. He was trying to put on a brave face, perhaps embarrassed about the last time he’d cried. “Promise you’ll come back?”
Song Lan wasn’t surprised that he wasn’t asking to tag along. Xue Yang had always been someone who valued stability, despite never saying so. The life of a wanderer did not appeal to him nearly as much as a cozy place to sleep and three meals a day. As long as he believed they’d see each other again, he was less reluctant to let him go.
He nodded at the question, writing something in the dirt to further reassure him.
“See? He’ll be back in three months,” Deng Yingjian read out for him. “That time will go by in the blink of an eye.”
Although Xue Yang still looked apprehensive, he subtly nodded his head, keeping his hands stiffly at his sides. Song Lan wondered if he was trying to keep himself from reaching out to him. “Okay.”
Standing up straight, he bowed to Deng Yingjian in gratitude and turned to leave, unsure where he was headed, exactly, but not planning on stopping until he got there. Behind him, Xue Yang called out.
“But you better be here in three months!”
—
True to his word, he was. Scouring the jianghu for a small girl pretending to be blind was a lot more difficult than he’d anticipated, even using A-Qing’s pouch as a guide. He’d made his way all the way to Yi City and started from there to no avail, which made him worry she was on the move from a very young age. However, since he was keeping track of the places he’d checked, he was comfortable returning to Deng Yingjian’s house, where he reunited with a very excited Xue Yang who couldn’t wait to show him all the things he’d learned.
It was silly, maybe, but being received like that made him feel warm.
Gradually, he’d disappear for longer periods of time, until three months became six became a year, but he’d always come back to that house, stay for a week, help with whatever needed helping, and talk to Deng Yingjian and Xue Yang, who could now read near-perfectly. As time went on, the small, round-faced boy grew taller and less thin, inching away from the childhood he’d once upon a time been forced to abandon all at once.
Whenever Song Lan came home, he’d tell him a little more about Baixue Temple in hopes of encouraging him to go, and although Xue Yang was reluctant to leave Deng Yingjian alone, he was beginning to show interest. By the time he turned fourteen, he seemed pretty much on board.
You may be too late to form a proper core, but I would still be happy to see you attend. You can learn a lot from them, Song Lan wrote.
“I know, I know. Core or not, they can still teach me to fight, right?” Xue Yang chuckled as he folded his arms on the table. Song Lan rolled his eyes, but the shadow of a smile played on his lips.
“This boy. How many times have I told you to stop thinking of fight, fight, fight all the time?” Deng Yingjian chastised him as she hobbled by with a basket of loquats.
“Tell that to the other boys in town!” Xue Yang argued with no real bite. Then he jabbed the air with a few quick arm movements, in a crude imitation of martial arts. “Imagine how scared they’ll be when I show them I’ve got daozhang moves.”
Song Lan shook his head. The little boy who had followed him through the streets that night had always had a fire inside him, but now it was plain as day, written all over his face. Although his cheeks were still round, he more closely resembled the troublesome teenager he’d crossed paths with at the market in Lanling a lifetime ago. The main difference between them was that there wasn’t a trace of contempt in his eyes.
Picking his brush up again, he wrote a little more.
I should get going.
Although he was smiling, Xue Yang still sighed a little as he read those words. “How long for this time?”
Not long. I’ve finally found her.
Xue Yang jumped in his seat at the words. “Hey, Granny! He found her!”
“About time!” Deng Yingjian placed a few loquats in a bowl to bring over. “How many times have you combed this earth looking for her?”
“We’ll get to meet her, right?” Xue Yang asked, endlessly curious about this mysterious girl his friend vanished constantly to track down.
Hopefully.
“What are you waiting for, then?” Hopping up from his seat, Xue Yang gave his cloak a little tug. “Go get her!”
Song Lan’s next words were hastily scribbled as he was pulled to his feet. Promise me you’ll join the Temple when I return.
“I promise,” Xue Yang rolled his eyes, his sharp canines on display as he grinned. “Now go!”
—
A-Qing was shockingly more easy to convince than Xue Yang had been. Upon seeing Song Lan’s face, she’d been unable to pretend to be blind quickly enough not to flinch, and, with her secret at risk of being exposed, and after discovering that Song Lan was a lot less scary than he looked, she’d stuck to his side like glue. With the promise of food and shelter, she’d walked with him all the way across the jianghu, and although she had no real interest in cultivation, Song Lan had managed to convince her (by having others read her the words he’d written) to join the Temple in much the same way he’d convinced Xue Yang.
Sparks flew between the two for the brief day they met, but both Deng Yingjian and Song Lan observed that beneath the animosity with which they spoke to each other lay a sort of camaraderie, a deeper understanding that could lay the foundation for a close friendship, if given enough time. They were clearly both in need of a friend, even if they were too stubborn to say so out loud.
A-Qing being integrated to Baixue Temple before him was the final push Xue Yang needed to attend, so one morning, bright and early, he packed up his belongings, fed Wheatstalk, and stood at the entrance to Deng Yingjian’s house with his hair combed as neatly as it could withstand.
The old woman took his hands in her own, caressing his ten fingers with misty eyes. Behind him, Song Lan stood patiently, waiting to walk him up the mountain path. He’d never been particularly good at goodbyes, but he’d left a letter for her inside, thanking her for all her care throughout these seven years and giving her more details on who he was and what he’d come to do.
“C’mon, Granny, I’m just gonna be up the road,” Xue Yang chuckled as he squeezed Deng Yingjian’s hands. “It’s not like I’m going to war.”
“I know, little fool,” she clicked her tongue, “I’ll just have to get used to not having your loud mouth around me all the time.”
“Are you kidding? I’ll come see you all the time! Nobody’s gonna stop me from doing that, right?” He looked back to Song Lan with a hopeful look, and he shook his head in response.
It also didn’t surprise him that Xue Yang wouldn’t want to lose sight of someone he’d grown close to. He could only hope he’d be able to forgive him someday.
“Well, then. I’ll be waiting here for you, pork stew at the ready,” Deng Yingjian finally let go of his hands so he could be on his way. “Wheatstalk will miss you more than I will, anyway.”
Laughing softly, Xue Yang made his way down the path with Song Lan at his side. When he was a few paces away, he turned to Deng Yingjian once more and bowed deeply. Beside him, Song Lan did the same.
—
“That A-Qing better not be a master by the time I get there,” Xue Yang joked as he made his way through the trees, up the path to Baixue Temple. “Can’t be outshone by my junior.”
Song Lan snorted softly and shook his head. The idea of her mastering all there was to know in the few days she’d been there was a charming one, but rather impossible.
“Actually, is she still my junior if she’s started before me?” Xue Yang mumbled to himself, slowing to a halt once he noticed that he was walking the path alone.
He turned around to see Song Lan stood in the middle of the path, his sword unsheathed and aimed at the dirt. He was writing something.
This is as far as I’ll go. You need to take these next steps on your own.
He’d thought forming any kind of lasting attachment to Xue Yang wouldn’t be possible. After all, Xue Yang had taken all he’d held dear and turned it to ash, and with that ash he’d choked him until his dying breath, only to keep him by his side, still as a statue or forced to do his bidding. Even still, knowing all of that, being unable to forget it, he’d saved him from a life of further pain and hardship, and through that had been able to see that, at the bottom of such a monstrous person, there had been a defenseless child, innocent as all children were, eager to learn and to live.
Song Lan had been able to meet such a Xue Yang, and he’d been able to see him grow. Now, setting aside everything that had occurred a lifetime ago, he realized he may actually miss him.
Xue Yang’s eyes were soft as he read the words on the ground, his expression inscrutable. He took a few quiet minutes before raising his head to look back at Song Lan again.
“Figured you wouldn’t hold my hand forever,” he spoke with a smile. “I think I can manage on my own, but it’s gonna be weird walking up there without you.”
Song Lan knew this was Xue Yang’s way of saying that he’d miss him, too. He lightly scuffed the dirt with his boot in order to write new characters where the previous ones had been.
We’ll see each other again.
This time, Xue Yang’s smile faltered slightly, but only for a moment. He shook his head at first, but then nodded, picking himself back up as he began to walk back up the path. He didn’t bow to Song Lan, instead opting to wave; not a goodbye, but a gesture of someone who would reunite with him within a few hours.
Song Lan returned it and watched him go, only turning around to leave once he could no longer make out Xue Yang’s shape.
—
The gates of Baixue Temple were daunting, as they had been all those years ago, but Xue Yang wasn’t being abandoned this time. He was here by choice, to honor the wishes of a friend who had rescued him from the closest thing he’d known to hell. He wanted to make that friend proud, and he wanted to show Deng Yingjian that she hadn’t wasted her time in raising him. Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand and knocked.
—
Adapting to the Temple schedule was difficult at first. He kept thinking he’d be able to talk to the people he’d left beyond the gates, and he’d gotten used to sleeping in during the past seven years, but out of desire to not stick out like a sore thumb (and look pathetic compared to A-Qing!), he put in his best effort to wake up before the sunrise and help out in the kitchens first thing. Today, two months and a half after he’d first arrived, he wasn’t surprised to find her outside his room, presumably headed in the same direction he was, but he was a bit taken aback by the small crowd gathered by the entrance.
“What’s going on here?” He yawned, leaning against a nearby pillar.
“Don’t lean,” A-Qing reached out for him to tug him away from his resting spot. “One of our seniors is back from his first trip alone.”
Xue Yang’s scowl quickly disappeared at the mention of meeting a senior. He must be quite young still if this was his first time venturing away from the Temple for an extended period of time!
“Do you know which one?” He asked while trying to seem as incurious as he could.
“Do you not pay attention when shifu talks or what?” A-Qing berated him with her arms crossed. “It’s his star pupil, Song–”
“Song Zichen’s back! He’s here!”
The double doors creaked open, revealing a tall young man standing perfectly upright, fuchen nestled in the crook of his crossed arm as his long sleeves billowed in the morning breeze. Above him, the sky was just beginning to lighten, casting some color on his stern face.
Xue Yang’s eyes widened as he rushed forward, much to A-Qing’s bewilderment, and pushed past the little gathering of disciples to plant himself directly in front of Song Zichen, who looked the slightest bit perturbed to have a stranger in such close quarters.
Xue Yang didn’t notice, or if he did, he didn’t care. He grinned from ear to ear as the early morning sunlight cast a golden glow on the world around him, reflecting in the eyes of the young man in front of him.
“Have we met before?”
—
Sitting at the edge of a faraway mountainside, looking out at snowy peaks that resembled the teeth of a large creature, Song Lan held two empty pouches in his lap. It would only be a few days until his shifu gave his younger self a letter that would lead him to the path in which he’d met Xiao Xingchen. Once upon a time he would have wished for the chance to see him again, but as his fingertips began to fade, followed by his palms, his wrists, his forearms, he knew he didn’t have to wish. In a few days, they’d be reunited.
And he knew, this time, he’d have a few new friends by his side.