"...Worried is too severe a term, Supreme Leader." After that, though, Ru Ge found themselves coming short on words. Ye Xiyang's gaze on them was probing, but patiently he waited, judgement absent in his eyes.
And how was Ru Ge supposed to respond? To agree was to place blame on him, and an unjust one at that. But to redirect it to Wan Yu wouldn't work; from any way it was observed, Wan Yu did not try anything that could be construed as the slightest bit seductive. He was a young man with failing manners and a borderline criminal sense of humor. Ru Ge was not dealing with the aftermath of a beauty toppling cities situation here, where emperors would gladly blame the woman for her wiles. They didn't think Ye Xiyang would appreciate Wan Yu being insulted, if they were being honest to themselves.
This conversation had been delayed for months and months, yet Ru Ge was now realizing that they didn’t know how to approach it either. Something had changed between that day at the space woven by that array, and now the pointed questions Ru Ge initially wanted to ask felt like they were pulled taut pointing at the wrong target.
In the end, they settled for, "It simply feels sudden."
Ye Xiyang blinked, then diverted his gaze to the table. There was something almost shy about it, almost deferent. "It somewhat was. I was as surprised as you were."
Ru Ge, "......"
Everything they wanted to say dried up. How could they still say anything?
A long silence settled, draping over the room like a light layer of dust. After some time, there was a knock, followed by a distinct cough.
"Enter," Ye Xiyang said.
Shi Ma opened the door and walked in, sitting down one foot to Ru Ge's right. After a moment of stillness, Ye Xiyang glanced at them. Begrudgingly, Ru Ge poured tea for her.
"Elder Xianfang said I ought to stay back and train the disciples up some," she said. She sipped the tea and put it back down, swirling the liquid around in its cup a bit as she looked at the two of them. "Catch me up on that?"
"For the two of you, I actually would like you to start on something else," Ye Xiyang said. He tilted his head in the direction of the cup; as if realizing her movements, Shi Ma stopped fiddling with it. "Ru Ge, please look into the factions forming in Demonic Harmony Sect. Shi Ma, I want you to make assessments on the offensive capabilities of these sects: Fire and Water School, Heavenly Cycle, and Vermilion Sun. In addition, please look into Lu Kong. Your assessments of the demonic faction sects still stand, right?"
Even with months of getting reacquainted with this year's reports, Ye Xiyang could not get to it all. He had not revisited the action plans for countering the demonic sects that were devised by the Wolf Guards— he didn't even remember what year this version was written in.
She blinked at him. "Wulin? Huh. Guess that makes sense. We really doing this?"
She had not been involved in any real wulin matters; even the time she intervened several months ago, it had been to handle Celestial Alignment Sect. Frozen Dragon Sect hardly had any interaction with big wulin sects. At most, they had a tension with a small sect not far from the base of the mountain ranges. White Swallow Sect. It was almost as old as Frozen Dragon Sect. Though it was old, it was miniscule compared to most sects nowadays. The people within it were all excellent in skill, though, and Frozen Dragon Sect never felt like they were a priority enough to be worth the projected casualties.
"Our interests are in scrambling the demonic faction," he said, "but holding our own against the wulin would be inevitable."
She leaned back on one arm. "I suppose so. What about White Swallow Sect? Does the Wan Yu kid have a plan for dealing with the wulin? He's just one guy. Don't tell me he plans on living the rest of his life underground."
At that, Ye Xiyang fell silent.
"He'll figure something out," he said, unconvincingly. Though he averted his gaze down towards the table, he did not fiddle. "Don't worry about him."
She shot him a pitying look. Ru Ge glared at her from the side.
Ye Xiyang moved on. "White Swallow Sect is a good one, thank you for the reminder. Please run that one by Ru Ge. Also, keep an eye on Three Tenets Sect. I don't want their lot to exploit the casualties to build up a small army. If anyone sees them sniffing around, kill them."
"Got it."
"Understood, Supreme Leader."
"Oh, and before you go, Ru Ge. How is progress with Seven-Petal Moonlotus Sect?"
Ru Ge reached into their sleeve and pulled out a report, placing it on the table. "People have been hired to disrupt their shipments. Du family struggles to keep up with the increased demands. The recipient of these items have been traced back to a noble family faction in Jing country, which is in full out rebellion after the executions at the start of the internal war. They were not happy with Seven-Petal Moonlotus's failure to meet their agreements. Demonic Harmony is not pleased by this loss of client. They tried tracking down the hired bandits, but the arrangements made ensured they were attacked near Vermilion Sun Sect territory. As it is, Vermilion Sun Sect has started sending disciples to monitor the bandit attacks as late as last month. They ought to have suspected illegal shipments by now. The details are here."
Ye Xiyang put the report onto a new pile, atop the report on Immortal Master Ning Shan's weapons list and history. Ru Ge's eyes traced the movement, their gaze lingering, but ultimately they betrayed no emotion. "Thank you for your hard work. I leave the rest to you."
____
Late spring was no different from summer, here in Yueyang, and Yun Zisu wiped the sweat off her forehead as she finally moved from the rock on which she’d been meditating since dawn. Though the month was early, the weather had been marching steadily towards the promise of a scorching summer. Vermilion Sun Sect's name and location being in Yueyang both had a reason, after all. The stone under her would've seared her feet as she stood up were it not for her tempered body; the calluses didn't numb the heat, but she was used to it enough she paid it no heed.
The inner gate of Vermilion Sun Sect was bustling in preparations for the sword conference. A good number of the best disciples had gone into closed door cultivation, but still, everyone else was abuzz with anticipation.
Not long after sneaking out to meet Wan Yu, Yun Zisu had gone into another closed door cultivation. She had to, after all, give the sword conference an honest shot if she ever wanted to deserve Flowering Fire. She came out mere days before the turning of the year.
Around a month ago, she had sent Wan Yu a message for his 20th birthday. His reply wasn't as long as it used to be, and delved less into his musings and more straight to the point, but melancholy was still palpable in the words. He'd told her about his courtesy name and the letter whereupon his shifu imparted it. The almost… polite way that segment was written worried her. But he also mentioned that he was back on the move now.
“Yun-shijie, I know you’re at your best when you’re surrounded by strong warm energy like this, but just looking at you makes me sweat ah…”
Slowly stretching her legs, Yun Zisu let out a breathy chuckle as she turned to the voice. “You’ve been in Yueyang for how long, now? Not all your life, surely?”
“Hey, not everyone has roots as good and well suited as yours, okay Shijie…”
Coming over from one of the classrooms was Chen Qianqian, the eighth of Yun Zisu’s ten fellow disciples under her shifu. Seventeen this year, she was sometimes nicknamed their shifu’s daughter— not for familial similarities, but because out of them all, she was the one who adopted most of her mannerisms.
Yun Zisu neatly put the thought aside.
“So long as you keep working on it, I do believe that you can do whatever it is that you want, Chen-shimei,” she said, her best sincere smile on her lips. Rising to her feet, she then bent over to pick up her sword, sheathing it as they moved to leave. “What brought you here, though?”
The Wulin Sword Conference was coming, and most of the disciples not preparing for their participation were preparing for those entering. Among Nong Furong’s disciples, the ones moving forward was Yun Zisu and her second shijie Ming Xuemei— everyone else, though not weak, did not have such an affinity for the sword. Were it not for the limited spots available for each sect, Nong Furong would’ve fought to put all her disciples into the roster, experience be damned.
Right now, most other disciples were supposed to be gathering materials and tending to the medicinal gardens. There would be a sharp spike in demand for them soon. Chen Qianqian must’ve come from doing one of those errands; for what, though, Yun Zisu still had no idea yet. Though they weren’t that different in age and she had cordial relationships with her own sisters, lately...
“I just wanted to see you, is that so wrong?” Chen Qianqian bumped their shoulders as they slowly headed towards the eastern hall. “I’ve been so busy with the medicinal garden, it’s almost like I’m not a sword cultivator anymore. Give me a pointer or two, won’t you? Whenever I look for you you’re either meditating or practicing with Ming-shijie. Before that, you were always running about. Yun-shijie no longer has time for Qianqian~”
Yun Zisu let out a helpless laugh. “Well, we can do it this week if you’d like. What time are you free?”
At that, Chen Qianqian sighed. “I’m still busy ba. I was just here to ask how you’re doing. You know, you worried everyone. Yi-shixiong has been really worried about you too. Punished into closed door cultivation, came out, went back into it… You haven’t been talking much to the rest of us, and even Cheng-shibo’s disciples have been asking about you. I’ve been fending off so many questions on how you’re doing. How are you, Yun-shijie? Talk to Qianqian ah.”
Around them, the world seemed so lush as spring was in full bloom and everyone walked in clusters like petals of a falling flower. Under a faraway tree, an older cultivator was teaching the new batch of children how to paint the nature around them with life. Birdsong filled the air, and under the sunlight the statues of the zhuque seemed ready to take flight. Yun Zisu looked at the ground.
“I’m fine. I mean, how else would I be? I still… you know. Ling-shimei."
Somehow, everything seemed to pale.
For Chen Qianqian, the smile slid off her face like the sun setting west. The previously warm sunlight became dry now, and the sounds of life grating in the silence that fell. The two of them stood on the grass, a tepid wind blowing past as if in mockery, and stared at each other. Chen Qianqian averted her gaze first— she had always done so. In deference, sometimes, but perhaps it was because Yun Zisu was too forward too. Yun Zisu looked away.
After a moment, Chen Qianqian looked up again. Her expression was pleading this time.
"To tell you the truth, Yun-shijie, it's Shifu who asked us not to say too much. She… you know. She didn't want the matter from spreading too much, it makes her look bad. And you know how Shifu gets about that…"
"I know," Yun Zisu murmured. After all, Nong Furong favored her. Even as a child, it had been Nong Furong’s eyes that scrutinized the strokes of her brush, the swing of her sword. If Yun Zisu claimed to not know Nong Furong, no other disciple would dare to claim they did. "You're still not gonna tell me?"
Standing side by side, head turned to stare at each other, the way Chen Qianqian avoided her gaze was palpable. After a floundering silence, Chen Qianqian said, "Tian-shimei was… You have to understand that she did such a public move—"
"The point, Chen-shimei."
"Well, I, because the… nature of her actions, they can't have her represent the inner gate anymore."
Since childhood, it seemed that it always turned to this. This time, though, now that Chen Qianqian had grown, her words were taking on a distinct turn. Yun Zisu's voice turned icy cold. "Did she get banished."
"No!" Chen Qianqian shot up straight, taking a step away from her. "What did you take the elders for? They still had compassion in their hearts. They let her stay at the outer gate. That’s the verdict of their benevolence.”
A beat of silence. Now it felt like all eyes were at them. Chen Qianqian’s defensive posture loosened as she realized that some people were casting glances their way, but she hadn’t the courage to herd Yun Zisu to a more private place, nor the conversation to safer topics. With a frown she shot them looks, and the disciples of other elders had no choice but to move on— things like these were not uncommon in the inner gate.
Drooping, Yun Zisu's hands slowly rose as she hid her face in them. "Chen Qianqian… Have you never ventured out of this small… small courtyard?"
"It's better than anything else," Chen Qianqian argued, voice lowered to a whisper. "We were in front of Frozen Dragon Sect and how did she even know the leader—"
"Chen Qianqian! Did you forget?! The disciples whose lives were almost lost powering the space, did you realize who actually dared to, too—”
“Yun-shijie!” Face reddening and eyebrows furrowing, Chen Qianqian’s eyes reflected the fires within Yun Zisu’s now. “Please, watch your voice. This is no way to talk to your fellow disciple.”
The furrow to Yun Zisu’s brow turned to that of encroaching despair. “Qianqian, really. Now?”
"Yun-shijie, I am only reminding you. Please, we are civilized people, and you are a good person. Please don’t yell. I never thought to worry about those disciples were Tian-shimei not there, because there was you, wasn't there?"
Yun Zisu wanted to cry. There was a clammy cold creeping up her limbs, now, making her fingers yearn to loosen its grip on her sword and just drop it. This was worse than her argument with Wan Yu— at least Wan Yu wasn’t…
"If it was only me there, do you realize who'd be kicked out into the outer gate right now?"
"That's enough, I think."
The voice cutting in made the two of them still— deep and authoritative, it could be no other than Xin Heng. The eldest of Nong Furong’s disciples, she was a tall, slender silhouette with a quietness unbefitting the breeze of spring of her master. Who knew how much she’d overheard, but she walked over with calm, even steps, looking not a hair out of place as she assessed her younger siblings. Yun Zisu’s grip tightened once more on her Prismatic Ray, but Chen Qianqian startled into a straight posture.
“Qianqian, what were you supposed to do right now again?”
Chen Qianqian lowered her head. “I will go now, Da-shijie.”
With those words, she left, footsteps flighty as a hare. The other disciples had stopped looking at them now that Xin Heng was there— not only was it a fool’s errand to wish for interesting gossip when the two talking were Yun Zisu and Xin Heng, Xin Heng was also a teacher for many of the younger disciples. After staring at the busy gardens for a moment longer, Xin Heng took Yun Zisu to a quieter corner. Yun Zisu followed with a lowered head.
"Zisu, this was why Shifu didn't want you to know.” Xin Heng’s voice was low, but it was not soft. She said it like it was fact. “In any case, the best thing you can do is to work hard and make a name for yourself in the Wulin Sword Conference. If you wish to see Tian Ling afterwards, nobody will start problems for you. Stop minding what Qianqian says. You know that’s just how she talks."
“How can I not mind—” At the look she was given, Yun Zisu turned her head away, before tuen returning Xin Heng’s gaze head-on. “Da-shijie, Ling-shimei was also the one who helped the survivors, those extreme yin men from the night-hunt. In that space, if she hadn’t gone with Sect Leader Ye—”
Once more, Xin Heng raised her finger. Yun Zisu stopped talking.
“Let the matter of Qunan rest. It was a demonic faction conflict, nothing more. That’s the verdict of the elders.”
“...You know it’s not true.” The entire matter was easily traceable from the Vermilion Sun Sect night-hunt straight to Qunan. Although there was still that thread named Wan Yu, it didn’t change the fact that it was not a demonic faction conflict. If anything, Yun Zisu had the time to realize that Frozen Dragon Sect had nothing to do with it at all— it seemed like they were involved solely because Ye Xiyang had been following Wan Yu. Had it not been for that, Vermilion Sun Sect could not so cleanly sever themselves from the story like this.
And yet Xin Heng’s eyes seemed so knowing as she looked at Yun Zisu. They were nearly the same height now. Xin Heng was in her thirties, yet Yun Zisu was gaining on her; they were almost eye to eye. Still, her brown eyes had a power to it. Where Nong Furong made Yun Zisu defer, Xin Heng made her quiet. "Zisu, I know what you're like, I've watched you grow up. This is the way of the world. If you want to change anything as you wish, grow strong."
The elders had decided how they would talk about the matter. Fighting against it meant nothing but trouble. Fighting against it meant...
"...I understand, Da-shijie."
____
A few days and an outbound cart later, Wan Yu and Quan Su hopped off at a split on the road and made their way to Pinghui. After stopping for a night, they finally reached it: a flattened dirt path leading to a cluster of simple houses, and the silhouettes of bigger places nestled within. Spring was a seedling in this place, a promise of life both within the earth and the wind. Quan Su sneezed as a breeze carried with it pollen.
Pinghui was a small town node within a greater economic network. Four days to its southeast was a small but old inkstone mine, with stones that were valued as high quality but not quite top grade. These stones often went through a different route to a different town, but some did find their way to the workshops here. One made inkstones, another made inksticks, and yet another made the accessories and supplements of the study… Such was the description by everyone Wan Yu asked, and that simple living showed. It was a rather quiet town, this one, like the quiet of the white papers of a book.
Two people lingered underneath a towering willow tree. Around them, sunlight of mid-spring rained down in droplets and beams, blinking and shifting as the breeze sifted through the leaves. Unlike Yibi, here songbirds flitted about in the early afternoon skies, calling out to each other as they flew by.
“Are we ever going to walk in?” Quan Su suddenly said, voice breaking the silence bird songs failed to fill.
“...Right.” Wan Yu shook his head, wondering where this strange reluctance came from. “Let’s go.”
Perhaps it was the hour— there weren’t that many people out in the streets. A couple of young children were playing further down, near the village well, but otherwise the distant voices drifting came from the small houses. From some, Wan Yu could hear the sound of thudding pounds and chicken crows. There was one adult, though, walking down the street carrying a basket of herbs. Wearing all black, he stood out, though the staff he was using as a walking stick was noticeable too.
Wan Yu froze. Eyebrows furrowing, Quan Su elbowed his side this time.
“Why do you keep stopping?” After a moment’s thought, though, she tensed. “Is there… danger?”
Danger? No, not really— well, Wan Yu didn’t think so. This feeling he had was… could it really be classified as repulsion? It was a sense of hesitation he never knew could come so innately he couldn’t pinpoint its source. With it was a nagging unease, yet the need to know was persistent, too.
Thinking about it, it reminded him of the feeling that dogged him after Ye Xiyang gave him that pearl. That thing still sat with the other weapons in his jade ring.
"Shouldn't be something so dire," Wan Yu said.
"But there is danger." Her tone was flat.
He ruffled her hair. "There always is. But it's nothing you should worry about."
It took 2 ke for them to make their way, with the help of some directions from some squirts playing as jianghu heroes using bamboo sticks. They'd passed by the man in black, though that was no hardship; he walked slowly. From the way he moved the walking stick it was more or less clear that he was blind. But it wasn't polite to stare, so Wan Yu only walked past, giving the man ample room to traverse comfortably. Several curious ducks came their way, glint of intent on getting into the path of a walking stick shining on their beady eyes, but nothing a gentle burst of qi couldn't shoo off. If Ye Xiyang were here, he'd comment on the waste of effort that was. Wan Yu would argue otherwise. A flailing stick to a duck's face had started villager feuds before, okay?
If it was fear stopping Wan Yu from turning back to look, who was to say anything? Quan Su, hand still in his, glanced over her shoulder to see the man.
"Is that why you're acting weird?" Scepticism was clear in her tone.
"Huh? I thought you'd gotten used to me being weird."
"Ugh. Why are you like this."
Would the man overhear that… Keeping his eyes on the ground, Wan Yu tried not to think about it.
Sun Dongyi's workshop was a well-kept yet worn lot, a bit on the smaller side. It looked more like a repurposed old residence, with the additions looking somewhat newer and out of style with the rest. Even from the outside, Wan Yu could hear the sounds of work going on inside. There was a large willow tree sitting right by outside, a swing dangling down; the description of this tree with the swing was more helpful in locating the house than the worn, mossy sign bearing the name Sun Dongyi.
Better to double check, though. After peering through the layer of dark green to ascertain that they were at the right place, Wan Yu knocked.
It took no time at all for a clumsy pitter-patter of steps to rush over. Within moments, the gates were opened and a small head poked out, cheerful as the kid said, “Song-gege? You’re back already? ...Oh. Guests?”
Wan Yu froze.
Quan Su, frowning, elbowed him on the side. The boy had taken a step back to assess the two, too, and looked uncertain. As he backed away, he said, “I’ll go call Ma… Ma!”
He didn’t even get to leave the yard though before a woman came out from a side room, a rag in hand dabbing up to her elbow. She looked harried, as though she’d just rushed over, and she all but slumped over when she saw her son. “Jingjing, you scared me, I told you to call me and wait before opening doors!”
Jingjing rubbed the back of his head and slunk back. “I thought it was Song-gege…”
The woman put on an awkward smile as she then turned to Wan Yu and Quan Su. “I’m sorry about that. These guests are…?”
After being brought inside, Wan Yu explained the circumstances and why they were here. The woman was the widow of Sun Dongyi’s grandson, as it turned out, and was known as the Sun madame after running this workshop for close to a decade now. Though hardly in her thirties, she carried with her a baggage of exhaustion heavier than what Wan Yu was used to seeing, the exertion of carrying on with her lot drawing fine lines on her face and hunching her back a tiny bit. She wore respectably good clothes, wore hurried powders on her face, but the way it all sat just a bit crooked from work grounded her image. As they talked, she seemed to move almost out of habit— straightening this, serving that, rarely ever meeting Wan Yu's eyes as she marched on with tasks that came into her focus.
“There’s only one room, though, and it’s occupied, but there are two beds, and a partition to separate it… We had to use the other rooms for the workshop, you see. It’s an inconvenience, but what can you do. We always have to find some ways to make ends meet, especially when my darling son is sick like he is… Ah, I’m sorry for rambling. I must be boring you. The other guest staying over is another cultivator just like you. His name is Song Hua.”
The cup almost fell right off Wan Yu's slackened fingers.
“O-oh?”
Sun madame, noticing his state, looked up with furrowed brows. She looked hesitant, wary. “This cultivator… Are you all right?”
Wan Yu shook his head to clear it. “Oh, nothing. I just felt like I’ve heard of him before… I might be mistaking it, though. But I remember he was a good person who helped when he could. I suppose I won’t know until I see him.”
The madame relaxed at his words. “Ah, yes, he’s been keeping my Jingjing company, and Jingjing really likes him. He’s… blind, but I suppose it doesn’t matter as much for cultivators.” She sighed wistfully. “Cultivators really have it much easier. Even blindness isn’t a problem… Ah, I shan’t speak like that. O-oh! In any case, I shall lead the way then. The guest room really isn’t anything fancy, it’s close by, our house is small after all, come follow.”
Brushing nonexistent dust off her lap, she rose and showed them to the room. It really was not a big room, but it had enough space for two beds, as she said. Between them was a screen. It seemed like Song Hua took up the one on the outside, perhaps for proximity, but a satchel and folded blanket sat quiet and unassuming there. Biting his lips, Wan Yu went to the inner room and let Quan Su put her things down.
“You’ll be joining us for lunch, won’t you?” Sun madame said. “We’ll be having it at the courtyard along with the others… It’ll be in one shichen. But I must hurry off back to work, if you don’t mind. We’re so terribly busy.”
Wan Yu flashed her the best grin he could muster. “Gotcha. Thanks a lot, ma’am.”
In the distance, he could catch the faint sound of a boyish laugh. As the Sun madame left the room, Wan Yu and Quan Su stood there unmoving for a while as the fading footsteps seemed to return, though this time there were two.
“Song-gege, there are other guests now,” Jingjing said. His voice carried an audible grin. “There’s a girl my age…”
“Oh?”
“But I don’t know if she’d play with me. Do you think— oh!” Jingjing and Song Hua had arrived at the door as they chatted, and Jingjing turned red at being caught talking about someone else. Quan Su’s expression didn’t falter, though; she was not smiling, but she wasn’t scowling either. “I’m really… sorry! I didn’t mean to, uh, I didn’t mean to talk about you…”
“It’s fine,” she said, succinct. “But I don’t know if I’m good at playing.”
The sunlight coming in from the courtyard was blocked by the two by the doorway, dimming the room into a cool gray. Song Hua’s shadow was long on the ground, reaching Wan Yu’s feet, entwining with his own.
Wholly unaware of the subtle tension hanging like a shroud, Jingjing's smile was shy but sweet. "It's okay. I don't know if I am either, I don't usually get to play… Ah! Song-gege, these two are the guests. They're…" And he trailed off, as if realizing that he didn't actually know their names.
Quan Su glanced at Wan Yu from the corner of her eye and elbowed him. Wan Yu almost jolted back as he returned to the present, barely halting his hand that instinctively swatted hers away— she was inching away from him now, wariness in her gaze. Wan Yu shook his head.
"Sorry, I've been… out of it. Where were we?"
"The guest room!" Jingjing chirped.
"Introductions," Quan Su said, tone careful and flat.
Wan Yu constructed a frail smile before remembering the man could not see it. He redirected it to Jingjing instead, who perked up at it. What a spirited little child, though he was small and lanky, with a faded look to him that spoke of prolonged illness. Looking at the child, Wan Yu's smile became more grounded in the present.
"Right. We are in the guest room. It's my pleasure to meet you, Song-xiong, the madame mentioned you. I'm Wan Yu, courtesy name Rushu, another cultivator just like any. With me is my little sister, Quan Su."
"A cultivator too?" Jingjing asked, full of expectations. Quan Su shook her head. "Oh."
Song Hua's gaze was fixed in Wan Yu's direction this entire time. After a moment of silence, he said, "Wan Yu from the Vermilion Sun night-hunt?"
"Eh? Oh, that one? Yeah, I suppose."
"I heard at Heiwu," Song Hua explained. Another awkward silence. "Nice to meet you."
Wan Yu shut his eyes tight. When he opened them, he had a new smile in place. "Glad to know that it's one of my better exploits that you've heard. Went out to gather herbs, Song-xiong?"
It was okay. He ought to breathe. He was...
Thoughts and realities both seemed to tear itself apart, burning into intermixed dust and smoke. Two lifetimes felt like bamboo strips whose threads had fallen apart, whose wooden slips had been lost, mixed up and sewn back in an amalgamation, a new whole that was missing, that made less sense than before. Right then, Wan Yu realized he was glad Song Hua hadn't heard the worst of him, and yet couldn't tell why it was so monumental. He knew who Song Hua was, but could hardly grasp thin threads of vague features; in front of him was the man, but there was no spark of long-snuffed recognition at his face. He knew Song Hua taught him those staff moves, yet could not conjure memories of their time together. When he gripped that wooden staff and moved, his body followed an instinct honed by years he couldn't remember living, guided by a voice he couldn't recall.
But the thing that unmoored him the most was the nagging feeling that Song Hua was important to him, and yet he couldn't remember anything about their time together. These feelings, lost to lifetimes, were affecting him so much, and yet he couldn't access the life behind it. Then what was the point? These things had not yet happened, likely never will.
Who really was Wan Yu? The man from the future who could only remember a bare shard of it, or the youth from the past who could barely cling onto a thread of who he was?
"Mm." Without gracing it with a better answer, Song Hua turned to Jingjing. "You ought to lie back down. Don't tire out."
"Aww, but I… I'm still not yet tired. Can't I…" Jingjing turned to Quan Su then Wan Yu. There was innocence so clear on his face it felt like a distorted mirror, reflecting to Wan Yu things he hadn’t thought about in years. "Chat? I want to know more about cultivators."
Wan Yu wanted to lie down. He wanted to lie down and cry, like he'd done as a snot-nosed little brat who wanted his shifu to come pick him up the first month he descended the mountain.
But instead, he said, "That's easy to do while lying down. Why not lie down and chat on the courtyard?"
