Si Ma Zhilian led to her down a path marked out only faintly by footsteps. Just the two of them, drifting down as if they had all the time in the world. The wind blew their hair, and Ai Mingxia breathed in it for the last time.
Yue Ning Peak. Not the place she was born, but the place that was home. The place that could’ve been home. The place that should’ve been her home.
Alas.
Eventually they stopped by a large tree. There was nothing special about it aside from the fact that it was ancient, branches drooping and weary, looming over them and dappling shadows onto Si Ma Zhilian’s face, crisp and clean-cut.
Si Ma Zhilian gilded gingerly towards it, and touched a careful hand to the bark. Her nail flaked some of it off.
“What is this?” Ai Mingxia asked, feeling suddenly daring.
“My… my mother used to go here. She said there was a story passed down the disciples about how there was once a great tree that grew here, before even this one.” Si Ma Zhilian hesitated a bit, looking at her hand. “Somebody tore it down in grief after their lover died.”
Ai Mingxia looked around, but she could see no signs of ravage. This story either never happened or happened an impossibly long time ago. It seemed silly, too – why would somebody tear a tree down for grief?
“Then she looked around and realised what she had done. She buried her lover’s knives in the dirt with an oak seed and it grew into this great big tree.”
It really was a silly story. Why would somebody plant seeds with knives? It would make more sense if it was a body. At least then the body would help the tree grow. Knives would do nothing to foster the growth of a tree. They would only cut the roots. How deep were the knives buried, she wondered?
What was the point of this? Why was Si Ma Zhilian so attached to this damn tree, then? The story had nothing to do with her.
“I like to come here to unwind and train,” Si Ma Zhilian explained, as if she could read minds. “I’m a bit… attached to this tree.”
… Ai Mingxia understood that, actually. There was a flower she’d been attached to too when she was young. A chrysantheum she got on a visit to some second-class sect that she bought back home. It promptly withered as soon as it faced the iciness of her country. Not tough enough.
Ai Mingxia had cried. Already five years, and already not tough enough.
Si Ma Zhilian stared at the tree, transfixed in a way Ai Mingxia didn’t understand. Her thoughts seemed crowded. Ai Mingxia wasn’t sure if she cared.
After a long minute, Si Ma Zhilian tore her gaze away. “Okay. Let’s –”
A dart whizzed through the air, towards her. Before she even registered it Ai Mingxia moved towards it, throwing her arm upwards to catch it. She summoned her still bloodied knife and clasped it tightly, ignoring the pain in her forearm. She scanned the surroundings. How could she have been so unobservant and so naive to believe the clan would really let the heir of a clan that had just declared war go so easily? They shouldn’t have gone so far from the Qi Weaver who might’ve protected them or the elders who would’ve tried to keep the peace. Si Ma Zhilian was reckless.
Her gaze snagged on the faint glint of hair to their left, high up in a tree. She threw the knife and it pierced through the air, before she tore up towards the tree, summoning her Spring Gale Breath to give her extra momentum. She heard a pained cry and smiled in satisfaction.
Si Ma Zhilian had recovered from the shock too, leaping onto her sword and into the air, fleet-footed. She reached the attacker before Ai Mingxia did, and drew her arm above her head. Wind energy clustered above it – if she bought it down Ai Mingxia could imagine the sickening crack of it, a razor-sharp cut of wind.
It was Lei Yongrei and his lackeys, huddled up in trees like monkeys. Of course.
“It’s you.” Si Ma Zhilian voice was tense. Her gaze strayed to Ai Mingxia’s bleeding forearm for a split second, and her brows furrowed deeper.
Lei Yongrei winced, a hand held to the gash Ai Mingxia’s knife was buried in. “You’re a traitorly coward, you know that? You are your cheap sect… sending you here and then daring to declare war. You reaped the benefits of their kindness and this is what you’re doing?”
Yuan Liqian stared at the knife, eyes widening in disbelief. “Is that my knife? That cost a lot of gold, you know, more than your life’s worth.”
Ai Mingxia snorted. Was that what he was concerned with? “You don’t look like you’re particularly rich either. Else you wouldn’t be lacky to some second-grade noble.”
“You–”
“Enough,” Si Ma Zhilian said. Instantly everybody fell silent. “I don’t want to hurt you. I agree, actually – the war is prosposterous. But you of all people should know the responsibility of clanhood. I don’t have a choice. To take it out on me would only stoke my clan’s rage.”
She was correct, but Ai Mingxia hadn’t expected her to take that stance. It was surprisingly unpatriotic.
“But –”
Si Ma Zhilian interrupted Lei Yongrei instantly. “And it would not even curry the favour of the elders, if that’s what you’re looking for. Or else they would’ve torn me and the Qi-Weaver apart already. Don’t do anything you’ll regret. Don’t be young and reckless.”
“We’re the same age,” Lei Yongrei protested, but he looked cowed. “What – what are you doing here with the lapdog anyways?”
“She’s not a lapdog.”
“Well, are you bringing her back with you?” Lei Yongrei sneered. It seemed he’d decided there was no point listening to Si Ma Zhilian anymore. “That sounds like something a lapdog would do, hmm? Follow her master around wherever she goes?” He turned his head, flinty gaze locked on Ai Mingxia. “You owe the Qi Sect everything, you know? You’re nothing now, but you’d probably be dead with your body rotting in some alleyway if not for them. Can’t you at least have a little honour and gratitude?”
He was actually right. Thereotically, Liu Xiuying should not be going with Si Ma Zhilian, the roommate she hated, even if she was set on killing her. Instead, she’d be staying with the sect that saved her, out of legal obligation if nothing else. She owed them sixteen years in the military.
But she wasn’t Liu Xiuying. She was Ai Mingxia, and she had a goal to fulfil. Ai Mingxia would’ve been all too happy to serve the Qi Sect, really – she rather liked them – but she was never the loyal type. Certainly not enough to lay down her life to a curse. “It’s none of your business.”
“I’m sure the elders would disagree,” Lei Yongrei scoffed, clearly stifling a wince. “Who says they’ll even let you go? You don’t mean anything, but you’re Qi Sect property. They own you.”
Si Ma Zhilian had fallen silent, a thoughtful look crossing her face. She must see the logic in Lei Yongrei’s words too. Ai Mingxia had just assumed the elders wouldn’t care enough to stop her from leaving, but she realised in hindsight this was naive. Too naive for a person of her experience. The thoughts of a child. In times of war, every soldier was needed, especially trained disciples.
It’d be harder to sneak out since now Lei Yongrei and his friends knew. They really shouldn’t have gone on this detour. Fuck. Maybe it was on purpose. Maybe Si Ma Zhilian had wanted to get her off her back and known that Lei Yongrei would be here, and was planning to condemn her to the personal hell of being in the Qi Sect with people who hated her, without her noble roommate’s reputation to protect her.
Ai Mingxia gritted her teeth, but she wasn’t sure what to say.
Lei Yongrei smirked. “Didn’t think of that, did you?”
Si Ma Zhilian glanced at Ai Mingxia, face twitching slightly. Her hand moved to the left, and Ai Mingxia understood.
Si Ma Zhilian whizzed through the air on her sword, wind making her even faster. Ai Mingxia followed on the ground, feet jolting against the dirt, feeling slow even though every step was carried by little gusts of wind as she hurtled forwards. Slow, but still faster than Lei Yongrei and his friends. What Spring Gale Breath afforded was mobility and speed, and they started out in a better position to run.
They gave chase close behind, but Si Ma Zhilian led Ai Mingxia down a complicated series of twists and turns till eventually Ai Mingxia could no longer hear anybody’s footsteps but her own. How did Si Ma Zhilian know this forest so well? When they stopped at long last, her breaths were blinding, and she barely stopped herself from slumping against the closest tree and huffing and puffing. Her legs almost gave out, but she reminded herself of who was near her and who was watching.
… Wouldn’t this be a perfect opportunity for Si Ma Zhilian to do something to her? She didn’t have to keep peace with the Qi Sect now, and Lei Yongrei would probably run back and tell the elders that Ai Mingxia was a traitor, so it wasn’t like they could stop her. And they were alone, just the two of them, deep in the forest.
Ai Mingxia stifled a gulp.
Si Ma Zhilian descended to the ground, hair and robes billowing and somehow still perfectly clean, looking like some heavenly being. She dismounted her sword and stepped silently onto the ground, looking around her. Unlike Ai Mingxia she didn’t seem out of breath or even worried at all.
“Where are we?” Ai Mingxia asked, trying her best to keep her voice stable and her breaths light.
“This is somewhere close to a cave of gems, like the one we went to before.”
Oh. It seemed so long ago.
“It’s not quite as good as the other one,” Si Ma Zhilian elaborated, “and I’ve used up all of the few good things there are there anyways, which is why we didn’t go to it last time.”
“Well, how are we going to get out of here?” Ai Mingxia asked.
Si Ma Zhilian laughed, a clear, ringing noise. “We fly, of course.” She hopped back onto the sword, and reached a hand out.
Slowly, Ai Mingxia took it, and stepped up onto it.
Si Ma Zhilian’s hand was long and more calloused than it looked. Warm and on the cusp of sweating.
The sword was long and rather large for a sword, but it was still just a sword. Ai Mingxia was pressed up against Si Ma Zhilian, the warm heat of her breath fluttering against her neck, and she couldn’t help but grasp her hand a bit tighter as the sword wobbled and rose precariously. Si Ma Zhilian directed the sword as though she was born riding it, every little movement of her arm reflecting in a graceful turn by the sword, no corners cut, nothing brushed or ruined. They left not a trace.
They flew until they hovered by at the very side of the island. Si Ma Zhilian raised a graceful hand to her mouth and gave a short, sharp whistle.
And then came a huge white-furred rabbit, bounding through the sky. Its eyes were big and dark and round, two perfectly shaped hazelnuts, and Ai Mingxia barely stifled a gasp of delight. A moonrabbit! She hadn’t seen one for years. She’d used to have one as a pet, rode it all around. Her little Xiao Zhen. Long dead.
Ai Mingxia remembers barely stopping herself from eating his body, in one of her fits of fox-hunger, back when she had no handle on her heritage at all.
The moonrabbit snuffled and nuzzled Si Ma Zhilian’s feet. Si Ma Zhilian hopped on, a smile curling her lips. “How do you think the Qi-Weaver got here?”
“But where is he now?”
“Here,” a resounding voice sounded. Ai Mingxia turned around. She hadn’t even heard him coming. The Qi-Weaver hovered behind them on a sword of his own, hair and robes whipping in the wind, gaze stern. “Si Ma Zhilian, what is the meaning of this little cultivator girl being here?”
“She is my companion,” Si Ma Zhilian allowed, and a jolt of energy bubbled through Ai Mingxia. “And I wish for her to go with me.”
The Qi-Weaver sighed. “Nobles and their little fancies. So be it, then.”
Ai Mingxia and Si Ma Zhilian shared a look. What it meant Ai Mingxia wasn’t sure. The three of them hopped onto the moonrabbit, and they left Yue Ning Peak behind.
Ai Mingxia stared longingly back, hands digging into the plush white fur of the impossibly calm moonrabbit, warm and comfortable underneath her.
Goodbye.
Away from the only place she might’ve ever called home.
And to a snake’s nest of poison, where all around her would be bloodshed.
Just like old times.
End of Act One (i need to lock in)
