The walls that gave Yibi its name were tall and dark, almost foreboding. The only way through was the gates: though it looked unmanned, Wan Yu could feel eyes watching them. There were only the two of them in front of these wooden doors. It was ridiculous, how small he felt.

“What reason do you have to be here?” a voice asked. Though it was masked so that the origin was hard to tell, Wan Yu sensed that it came from an almost-unnoticeable slit— even the guard posts merged into the wall, it seemed.

“I want to talk to Frozen Dragon Sect’s Sect Leader,” Wan Yu said.

Silence fell.

And continued to persist as time flowed past. They must’ve found him funny; in hindsight, a lot of people probably said that. He wasn’t about to turn, though. Waiting, they must’ve stood for almost a shi before noises came from down below. Down the road, the merchant caravan had finally arrived at the gates of Yibi.

Without as much as a word, the gates opened. Wan Yu didn’t take the opportunity to dart in, though. Instead, he watched it all unfold. Quan Su was a sensible girl, she stood still too. Right before the first of the carriages came in, they stopped in front of the two of them. After a rustle, the thick curtains opened. Fang Tuofei. “Ah, you two really did arrive. That’s impressive. And before us, too.”

Wan Yu shrugged. “We walked.”

“Were you held up at the gates?” Fang Tuofei asked, as though he was offering his sympathies for their plight. Tch. “What brings you here, anyway?”

“I wanted to talk to Ye Xiyang.”

That brought genuine surprise into Fang Tuofei’s face, but even more baffling was what happened after that: two guards came over and told Wan Yu, “You can come in.”

...Excuse me?

“You heard them.” Wan Yu turned to the source of the voice— the one-eyed man Quan Su mentioned the other day. Was he really… Wan Yu narrowed his eyes, mind already coming up to possible explanations. The man, though, didn’t seem to notice. Sitting in one of the carts with cargo, he looked almost nonchalant. Beside him was a younger man, probably around Wan Yu’s age, controlling the horses. With the way he wasn’t even looking at them, Wan Yu would guess that he was obedient towards the middle-aged man. “Standing around in this kind of cold, you’ll have to be dragged soon enough.”

That reminded Wan Yu of the fact that Quan Su had nowhere near the resilience he had. In the end, Wan Yu pursed his lips and nodded. “All right. No sense in going back.”

The middle-aged man cracked a smile. “That’s the spirit.”

It almost felt like the exchange shed the last shreds of pretenses here: Fang Tuofei turned to the man, who then said, “You’re heading to the sect, might as well hop on. We’ll drop you off at the main gates.”

Wan Yu raised his eyebrows. “On your cargo?”

“You want to be in a small carriage?”

Why must people point it out, when Wan Yu obviously was bluffing?

The cargo on the man’s cart was covered with waterproof pelts, but apparently they weren’t so fragile— Wan Yu and Quan Su sat on some of them, likely chests of some sort. Then again, putting things inside chests before transporting them would be the logical thing. Wan Yu didn’t know what he was expecting. Nobody said anything, though, as they passed by the gates with its meager guards. They didn’t even check him. They went back to their posts after closing the gates.

“Your guards suck,” Wan Yu commented.

The man glanced at him. “They’re just city guards.”

“You from Wolf Guard?”

A chuckle. “What makes you think that?”

“I’ve got the impression that Ru Ge did not like me very much.”

This time, the man laughed.

The streets of Yibi were, unlike its exterior, lively. It wasn’t loud, per se. There were people bustling about, though, bringing this and that, walking and riding horses, though these were curiously small and… hairy. Quan Su’s eyes lingered on them— one passing by was grey and mottled, and its hooves were hidden behind a curtain of swaying hair as it clack clack clack walked across the cobblestone roads. There were even cats and dogs, though they looked larger and fiercer than Wan Yu was expecting, with thick fur and greyish coat. This was… an interesting fresh look into a world that differed both so vastly and yet in such a small way.

Nobody paid attention to the merchant caravan passing by the main road. Wan Yu spotted several restaurants that looked warm, keeping a note that maybe they could stop by there before they left the city. After all, they also needed to stay for a day or two. No sense in hurrying away when they struggled so hard to get here.

Frozen Dragon Sect, after the intimidating Yibi city walls, felt underwhelming. Visually only, though— from a glance alone, Wan Yu could tell the enchantment over the expansive grounds was beyond what one man, one generation could achieve. No amount of genius could touch a fragment of this. In contrast to the boring stone walls, the gates to the sect were picturesque and fierce— iron was molded into a picture of a dragon rising from massive mountains, a lady standing atop her flowing scarf hovering above him with an umbrella. Both figures jutted out of the flat plane as though they would come to life at any second, cold and silvery and yet brimming with vitality. The ring-shaped door knockers were in the dragon’s mouth and in the lady’s hand, as though only with both their consent, these gates would be opened.

“You can wait here,” the middle-aged man said.

“Wait for what?” The doors opened with a great creaking sound, but the person’s voice rang clear anyway; as the crack widened, their figure was revealed. Ru Ge, dressed in white, was alone as they stared down the stone steps and straight at the group. “Second Uncle, you are moving too quickly for this junior. This junior was looking to ask for an explanation.”

Ah. Really? These two people were related? Wan Yu raised an eyebrow.

“It’s better to ask Supreme Leader,” the man answered. It might just be Wan Yu’s imagination, but the man sounded a bit… sheepish? “He is Supreme Leader’s acquaintance, I didn’t dare make judgement calls in his stead.”

What a damning sentence— Wan Yu wanted to whistle. It was subtle, but unmissable once it was seen; the man was insinuating that Ru Ge was the one making judgement calls in Ye Xiyang's stead. Ru Ge looked furious, under that veneer of lacquer-glossy calm of theirs. It was in their eyes: despite the distance, Wan Yu could feel the sharp edges of those dark eyes as though they were dragging the point of their hairpins across the line of his neck.

“He’s not wrong,” Wan Yu said. “I do know the dude, don’t I?”

Before Ru Ge could rebut, a servant walked up, looking a bit harried. Upon seeing their withering glare, the servant lowered his head, but he still said, “The Supreme Leader said he will talk to the guest.”

Wan Yu watched Ru Ge. Though he couldn’t recall much about them in the future, Wan Yu could still grasp one or two strands of rumors about them— at first an unknown name within the greater jianghu, Ru Ge gained more notoriety as the years went on, in the end occupying a place equivalent to Shi Ma’s. The Jade Moon of the Frozen Dragon Sect… Despite the mildness of the words, the descriptor jade was both in reference to their beauty and their stony temperament. Some said their hand struck down harder than the Supreme Leader himself, who preferred to be hands-off. While the Red Wolf was savagely efficient, she followed his orders. The Jade Moon, however, stood at a remove, sometimes taking actions in his stead, sometimes behind his back.

Ru Ge was rather pretty, Wan Yu had to concede. They couldn’t pass off as soft and demure, most certainly, but they were elegant, with an air fitting of the winter-like aesthetic they draped themselves in. Too bad he wasn’t the type to pity fragrance and cherish jade.

“Leave the child at the door,” Ru Ge said.

“No,” Wan Yu said, voice turning to steel. Reaching down to grab Quan Su’s hand, he marched up and walked past them. The servant, flustered, followed after in hurried steps. After some time, he managed to walk ahead of Wan Yu, saying, “Esteemed guests, this way please.”

The steps up to the first section of Frozen Dragon Sect were cut stone, grey and functional. The sparse trees that lined it were, too— evergreens that had grown naturally, no doubt. They looked ancient, almost calcified. Few things would survive in the solid soil always hardened by the climate. And this seemed to be the theme to this austere compound: what decor were there was multipurpose. Embroidered curtains covered many windows, but they were thick and remained in place when the breeze was light. Lanterns hanging over the railings had braziers attached to it. When they reached the vast main courtyard, several disciples were walking around carrying stacks of cloth, buckets of coals with tongs dangling off the side. There was a quiet air of excitement, which Wan Yu assumed could be attributable to an approaching event. Spring festival, maybe? In most regions it would’ve passed already, but here, the air was barely warm enough to say winter had ended.

“They are preparing for the spring festival,” the servant said upon catching his gaze, confirming his guess. “Will this esteemed guest stay for the week? The festival will be in three days’ time.”

“Probably not,” Wan Yu said. “I hadn’t planned enough ahead for that.”

Likely due to the terrain, Frozen Dragon Sect was arranged in tiers; it seemed that the lowest one was a common area, with large open spaces to hold gathering, host events or welcome guests. Up the winding stairs, they passed by a gateway and were greeted by a more populated area, this time with a lot more buildings and rooms. Wan Yu could hear recitations from one of them. And then the next tier… and Wan Yu stopped in his tracks.

“Hey.” Scowling, Quan Su stepped back as she scolded; she’d walked straight into Wan Yu. When she got no reply, though, she paused. Stepping to the side, she eyed him, then tugged at his sleeve. “Come on, let’s go.”

Set in the middle of this courtyard was a tall platform. It really was bafflingly high; Quan Su didn’t know what it was used for, but the way Wan Yu was reacting, she doubted it was anything good. His eyes were hollow, its clarity lost after having been suppressed by intense emotions— she could sense them from the way he tensed. If she reached out to touch his skin, she bet it would’ve been clammy cold. The servant seemed to notice something was wrong, too, and opened his mouth, but upon a second thought he closed it again. The awkwardness in the air was strong enough that she could taste it. That platform was probably used for something— oh.

Wan Yu mentioned it before. Frozen Dragon Sect practiced human sacrifice in winters.

But… how would that relate to him?

Did he have a past with this sect? Was that why he was so close with Ye Xiyang, regardless of what he’d said?

“Eh? Wan-gege?”

Quan Su narrowed her eyes before turning to the voice— just as she thought, Shi Ze was on one of the buildings, looking at them. He was walking with a young kid, as well as Xue Ying. Xue Ying’s expression was one of disbelief, but Shi Ze looked pleasantly surprised. The kid glanced at them, made a disgusted face, and turned away.

“Wan-gege, what brought you here?”

When Shi Ze came bounding over, finally Wan Yu moved. It was only to move away from Shi Ze, though. The kid didn’t notice, of course. He looked just as excited as before. “Are you here to see Supreme Leader?”

“The entire sect could hear you, Shi Ze,” another voice replied. Ye Xiyang, because of course. Standing in front of some large, delicately decorated doors at the centermost building, his voice carried over despite not being loud— must be some sort of cultivator technique, she felt. Shi Ze straightened up, as did Xue Ying and the kid far in the other building. With even steps and poise unbefitting to the Ye-xiong she knew at the start, Ye Xiyang walked over to them. The servant lowered his head, stepping further back, but Wan Yu still seemed like he didn’t notice anything happening around him. Ye Xiyang stopped at a respectable distance away. In a quiet, even voice he said, “The stairs are hardly a place to have a conversation. Coincidentally, it appears to be time for dinner; why don’t we talk over a meal?”

Taking a deep breath, Wan Yu closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he said, “Talk over a meal my ass. You little shit.”

The servant paled. He looked minutes away from tremoring. When Quan Su looked around, Shi Ze was shocked too, while Xue Ying and the kid appeared indecisive between affronted and aghast.

But Ye Xiyang looked amused instead. “Did I say something wrong? I really am being sincere, though. I imagine you’d have a lot of questions. This arrangement would be most expedient, no?”

“On the simple grounds that it would be counterproductive, Ye Xiyang, I’m not here to beat you into a pulp,” Wan Yu said. “Take this as advice from a man who failed to shut up: shut up.”

“Duly noted,” Ye Xiyang said. He turned to the servant. “Please take the girl to the gardens, and serve her meal, then deliver one to my study as well. These two are guests, be sure the kitchens take note.”

“Understood, Supreme Leader.”

“Come on, Chen Xi,” Ye Xiyang said to Wan Yu. “Spring has arrived, and it’s no good time for death. Though our Slumbering Dragon Mountain is a cold place with constant snow, we are no Kongsang, where executions happen regardless of time of year¹Kongsang mountains appeared in several places in Chinese mythology, but here it's mostly a reference to the one mentioned in Shanhaijing, where it is a place "on which neither tree nor herb grows and covered with snow both winter and summer alike." In addition to that, in Chu Ci Kongsang Mountain appears in relation to Xuan Ming, or Xuan Wu, the black tortoise god of the north, who also has control over the winter darkness, punishment and slaughter. Executions are supposed to be only done in autumn and winter, where the destructive energy from these deaths wouldn't interfere with the growth of life.. Let’s talk inside.”

With a terse nod, Wan Yu then turned to Quan Su, softly muttering to her, “I won’t be too long, I promise. Go eat.” Ruffling her hair, he left her to follow after Ye Xiyang. She watched them disappear behind those large, ornate doors.

“This young miss…”

Shaking her head, Quan Su followed after the servant. Gazes from three pairs of eyes trailed after her, but she paid them no heed.

Though Wan Yu’s greeting was insolent as though everything was casual as always, Ye Xiyang did exude a different aura in these grounds. His steps on these ancient grey-brown wooden floors were measured and firm, carrying a dignity no less than an emperor in his imperial palace. His attire was even more ornate than the one worn on their first meeting— in this life, not the last. Atop his blue silk were more black layers, stitched with images of mountains, clouds, dragons. Wan Yu might’ve mocked his idea of “lowkey” back then, but compared to now, even the silks of a favored concubine would be considered casual. Though this Ye Xiyang had a younger face, all Wan Yu could see was the one who lamented the fact they hardly had time to chat.

Suddenly, all the fight left Wan Yu. He really, really missed his shifu…

Now that Wan Yu was no longer a death-row prisoner in essence, he had the time and leisure to look around and examine Ye Xiyang’s study. Though it was dubbed a study, it really was a whole small building with multiple sections; the front and largest seemed to be for guests, and was where they had that breakfast and its accompanying conversation. There were doors off to both sides, however, which Wan Yu didn’t recall— he couldn’t remember whether he didn’t notice it, or if it wasn’t important enough for him to remember in this life. Ye Xiyang led him to the one at the left; behind it was curtains, and behind that a closed hallway. Lamps lit up the place, providing both light and warmth. Ahead of them was a decorated doorway, and when they passed the threshold, Wan Yu came face to face with a place more appropriately dubbed a study.

“Guard outside,” Ye Xiyang called out into the air. There was a moment of silence before he said, “This is an order.”

A woman walked out of what seemed to be thin air in a corner. With a bow, she walked past the two of them, but before she could leave, Ye Xiyang added, “And tell Ru Ge that I will talk with them at supper.”

“Understood, Supreme Leader.”

"Spooky," Wan Yu commented. "What's the sect leader going to talk about with his second-in-command?"

Ye Xiyang chuckled as he led Wan Yu to a wide, low table. It was a dark black and stacked with books and documents, several of which were open— but Wan Yu couldn't read the letters upside down, and in any case, he had no interest in doing so. Behind the table against the wall were bookcases, all filled to the brim with books— Wan Yu would like to know if Ye Xiyang had read all this or whether these were for decoration and probable reference. Sitting down on the inner side, Ye Xiyang gestured at him to sit down too as he moved the stacks of work so they could see face to face. Wan Yu did so.

"So," Ye Xiyang started. "You had some questions?"

"Why did you do this?"

Ah. "Immediately with the hard ones."

Tiredness had settled within Wan Yu like sediment at the bottom of a lake— it had become part of the foundation, the floor upon which he stood. "Answer."

"I suppose either way, the answer will give you no satisfaction. You can say I was intrigued."

Disgust and fury intertwined in those brown eyes. "I sure hope you were enjoying the entertainment, Sect Leader Ye. How would you rate it? Should I bring it to the theater and see if they could rework it as a new act?"

Ye Xiyang met hid gaze head-on. "You were a man with many regrets. There is now time for you to retrace your steps, no?"

Wan Yu's hands slammed on the table. It was too sturdy to move much, though some books jostled and shifted. The calligraphy brushes hanging on the wooden rack made dull clacks as they bumped and swung into each other.

"I would take those regrets to the grave, Ye Xiyang!"

"It would be your regrets you'd be taking." Ye Xiyang's voice was soft yet unwavering— Wan Yu shivered. "Life goes on, for those who lived."

"And I'm guilty for all suffering now?" Wan Yu's voice rose in pitch. It broke, in an off-key way that made Ye Xiyang's brows furrow in the pang of sorrow it struck. "How many lifetimes do you want me to repent?"

Wan Yu's ears were starting to buzz, as did the layer under his skin— his vision was going out of focus, though a part of him knew he could still see with perfect clarity. Like Jingwei and her futile attempts at filling the East Sea²After Nüwa, daughter of Yandi, died drowning in the East Sea, she metamorphosed into a bird called Jingwei and attempted to fill up the ocean with sticks and pebbles. Upon reading this passage in Shanhaijing, the poet Tao Qian mused on her (and Xingtian's) persistence to overcome tragedies and yet inability to be free from it., he was confronted by the futility of trying for anything— what he could chuck were sticks and stones, barren and minuscule happiness and good acts and little victories, but the waters of his soul were too turbulent and the gaping emptiness that was his heart was too big and ever-expanding.

What was the point? Even his death, be it in his own hands or at the wulin's, wouldn't have done a single thing but mark the end of an event.

Immortal Master Ning Shan had asked years ago, during a quiet conversation at night after Wan Yu handled the case of the factory worker, what he thought about his actions. It was an introspective evening to begin with, as Wan Yu had had weeks to think about it on his way back home, but being asked directly hit different— what did he think about it?

"It might improve things, maybe." A pause. "It's a big maybe."

"The hearts of men are swayed by things we cannot control," Ning Shan reminded. "You ought not to take responsibility for things beyond your reach."

"Because I can't and shouldn't try to control them, yeah."

But when he was the direct cause of suffering, ought he not take responsibility?

In the next decade or so, Wan Yu would become public enemy. But wouldn't someone have to be truly a fiend to earn such a place?

Ye Xiyang's voice broke the silence. "As a leader," he said, "there is never a path forward that doesn't hurt someone."

His gaze was fixed on Wan Yu's.

"The Sect Founder of Frozen Dragon Sect had said before he'd go on to make history, 'The only way to ensure that the pain and suffering continues is if we never move.'"

"And what did he do?" Wan Yu's words were more exhaled than said.

"Ignoring the desperate begging of his closest and loved ones, he spilled his blood and gave himself up to the Slumbering Dragon to stop the years-long winter at the mountain," Ye Xiyang said. "The bitter winter did abate. But it didn't do as much as one might've hoped. At the very best, it gave them only a chance. Livestock had long since been dead and eaten, no grains and cereals could be grown, the mountains had been picked bare in a desperate grab for edible grass. Coffers had long been emptied and things sold for a mouthful of rice. The only difference was, frigid winds no longer attempted to break down their doors."

"Then why would you honor him as the Sect Founder?"

Ye Xiyang's smile was dim. "Because without his sacrifice, the town would've been buried under the snow and all the corpses hidden within. They never would've had the opportunity to get back on their feet and rebuild."