The way to Heiwu was uneventful: Song Hua gripped onto Wan Yu’s arm before getting onto his own sword, and like that they rose above the treeline.

The sun was two-thirds down the sky by the time they reached the first teahouse, and Wan Yu knew that they wouldn't make it. By the time the moon was becoming bright, they were still a bit short— Wan Yu could see several stopped carts and carriages on the horizon, but the winds from Slumbering Dragon Mountains were starting to creep in. Wan Yu lowered their altitude before hopping the last few inches to the ground, looking at Song Hua.

"Should we walk the rest of the way?"

There were eyes peering at them from the darkness, watching their moves. Song Hua seemed to notice.

"We could. Or simply find a good place to camp, that would be splendid."

So Wan Yu did. They got closer to the teahouse and Wan Yu found a spot that seemed to have been used several times before. Song Hua settled down with some supplies, Wan Yu got some wood and water, and in little time they had food cooking.

"That was considerably easier," Song Hua mused. By the low voice that was almost a whisper, Wan Yu took it that he hadn't meant that for other ears. He checked the pot, taking a deep breath when the fragrance of food hit him in the face with the force of steam.

"Be careful," Song Hua said, leaning forward. "You could scald yourself."

"...I got impatient," Wan Yu admitted. He moved back, the slightest hint of a pout on his face. "It smells good."

"Most of it is your supplies, so thank you for the food." Song Hua smiled— small, but sincere. Wan Yu stared at it. "Surely you're adept at life skills such as cooking on the road?"

Thinking back to Quan Su's complaints, and then Ye Xiyang's cooking, Wan Yu could only say that the only one worse than him was Yun Zisu. Wan Yu could make passably decent basic dishes, stews and porridges and whatnot, but his understanding of seasonings extended only to three things, five if he stretched to count the sauces he rarely bought himself. As for roasting, he had to give up— he had no idea how people managed to get it done thoroughly and evenly without a good caking of burnt shell. But he got by. For years, too. Sans the time Ye Xiyang cooked, back then the one who would prepare ingredients and seasonings during his journey had been… Song Hua.

There really was something to be said about him. Ye Xiyang's cooking was delicious, clearly a craft honed to please the tastebuds, but Song Hua's style really reminded Wan Yu of his childhood. Immortal Master Ning Shan had long since ceased needing food, but his disciple definitely did. Food back then was mostly congee with pretty bare additions; there would be vegetables and some flavor, but salt was not exactly common up a mountain away from civilization. The most flavors Wan Yu could find had been from fruits and berries he’d climbed for and scavenged, and ever since, Wan Yu had a fondness for sweets.

But that wasn't to say Song Hua's cooking lacked flavors. It was just… the style. It was homely, in a sense; mild and thoughtful, balanced in flavor with the occasional "it tastes bitter but it's good for you, eat it Wan Yu." Staring at the fire, Wan Yu tried to grasp at those threads of faint memories, but now that he'd become aware he was remembering them, they vanished like a waft of steam.

"What I make is generally edible, but it's not something you'd want to eat three times in a row." It took him a few moments to remember Song Hua had asked a question. "If you need me to do manual labor, really, I'm your guy. Better someone else handle the cooking." Except Yun Zisu.

"Except for my friend," he ended up adding. "I'm not sure what was going on with that, but somehow everything she holds over a fire chars. I'd never seen a pot blacken so fast."

Song Hua turned to him; he looked a bit speechless.

The small chat warmed the atmosphere, though, and they talked about this and that as they ate. Once they finished and Wan Yu cleaned things up, they settled down, the cold of the night breeze long since chased away.

The fire crackled. Fiddling with a string of beads wrapped around his wrist, Song Hua looked up.  "Wan-xiong, would it be… possible for you to read me the prescription for Xiao Jing?"

Wan Yu blinked. "Of course. Wait, let me find it. Hmm… All right here it is."

It was a simple list of a dozen or so items, and so he read it slowly, making sure to give Song Hua time to think about it when he noticed his expression change. Wan Yu had a passing familiarity with most of them, but given Immortal Master Ning Shan's specialization, he had never learned deeply the art of medicine. Lady's Umbrella, for one, was foreign to him. In the list was also how much was needed for a month; Wan Yu wondered how much it'd all cost.

Song Hua's expression when he finished and looked up made Wan Yu rather apprehensive, though. "Is there anything wrong with it?"

"Not wrong per se…" Song Hua shook his head. "It's nothing. In any case, my skills are not at the level of a doctor."

That wasn't promising, but Wan Yu knew that Song Hua was withholding judgment for good reason. If they must, they might ask the pharmacist. There was a chance it wasn't about efficacy either, though. Well, Wan Yu would learn when Song Hua felt it fit to disclose.

"If there's anything, you can let me know if you feel comfortable."

He got a wan smile for that. "I will. You should rest if you can, I'll take the first shift."

"...All right," Wan Yu said, a pit forming in his stomach. But Song Hua wasn't wrong; with how badly he slept today, Wan Yu was tired in ways he hadn't been in months. Lying down, he tried to make himself comfortable and listen closely to the crackling of fire, the call of the night birds.

____

 

It was a clear noon that followed morning rain: the sky was a blinding, pure blue. Puddles were still scattered all around, turning brown with dirt upon errant footsteps, while the occasional breeze brought with it droplets from the leaves. 

“You finally know to visit, huh? Stinky little boy. Ah-Rui! Come meet your little uncle! Look, even Zisu came over before you did. How many years has it been?”

Wan Yu ducked under a rag thrown at him at surprising velocity with a wry smile, thankful that Song Hua wasn’t behind him as he usually was. “Jiejie, I’m here with a friend, what if that hit him huh?”

"Then you'll have to explain ba." Chen Lan shrugged, but then she peered over his shoulder out the doorway. "Oh. Is that young man your friend? It must have been a long journey for him."

"Jiejie," Wan Yu whined. He could hear Song Hua smile. But he then remembered something. "Oh, oh, Jiejie, meet Xiao Su. I met her on the road. I think she'll grow up just like you."

And Quan Su was there. Wan Yu didn't know how he forgot she was there, just behind the door at such an angle his jiejie couldn't see her without sticking her head out. When Wan Yu gestured her closer, he noticed that she looked a few years older, held herself straighter and firmer. He patted her. "Your hair looks really nice today, Xiao Su."

Yun Zisu's laugh drifted out from deeper in the house. "Are you guys going to move from that doorway or should I join?"

"Jiujiu!"

Having circled from the back of the house, Chen Rui ran straight into Wan Yu's legs. Wan Yu knelt with a laugh, holding him, then— hop. With a grin and a bit of a heave he carried the young boy in his arm, his other hand readjusting his hold into something more comfortable. Chen Rui hehe'd as he wrapped chubby arms around Wan Yu's neck, pressing their cheeks together. "Jiujiu, you're back!"

"Jiujiu's back," Wan Yu affirmed, pressing a kiss on his hair. "How are you, stinky bean, have you been a good boy? Hmm? Hmm?"

"The best," Chen Rui said, full of conviction.

"He's a big handful, just like you," his mother said. "All right, the three of you, come inside. Lunch is ready. Ah-Niang is at the back, go call her, she's been missing you."

Wan Yu's face lit up. Readjusting his grip on his nephew for a better hold, he hurried to where his wet nurse was, calling out, "Ah-Niang, Yuyu's back~!"

An old woman in her fifties came out upon hearing his voice, a wide smile on her face. "Yuyu… Welcome back."

"Hehehe, of course… I always said I'll try to every year, didn't I?"

The old lady Chen had been widowed for many years, after her husband left early in their marriage because of conscription; yet once he was back, he had died when their daughter was but several years old. Not long after, the catastrophic weeks-long rain struck. Unable to find a way to both care for her sick daughter in the disaster, Immortal Master Ning Shan's appearance, a baby in his arms, was nothing less than a miracle. He had asked her to care for the child until he was old enough to be taken up the mountain. In return, her needs will be cared for by the illustrious immortal, leaving her able to focus her attention on raising the children in her care.

She had always been a simple woman; she raised Wan Yu with the same love she'd given to her daughter. Wan Yu's first word had been "Niang," and though at first she'd been scared silly, Immortal Master Ning Shan didn't express any disapproval or displeasure at how attached his disciple was to the family that raised him.

Wan Yu liked remembering those days. They were warm and comfortable, and he'd long since forgotten the times they weren't.

"I've made your favorite foods… Oh my, with this many people, hopefully there's enough. You look so skinny, you need to eat more, should I teach you more recipes you like, so your appetite is whetted? The immortal had told me to look after you, you should take good care of yourself…"

"Grandma noisy! Jiujiu, let me down ba, I wanna go back to play!"

Wan Yu laughed as he bit Chen Rui's cheek. "No badmouthing Grandma! She loves you. Say sorry now."

"Oww! Sorry!"

He let the child back down, and Chen Rui immediately sprinted off. Afterwards, they went outside, where a table had been set up, as the room inside wasn't enough for so many people. Everyone was there. It was a feast, though the food on the table were common ones— but there were plenty, and they were delicious home cooking. Yun Zisu chatted with Chen Lan, who turned to ask Quan Su questions. Song Hua was making small talk with Ah-Niang, who kept piling his plate with food, explaining to him what they were as she did so, aware of his blindness. Wan Yu's face was stuck in a perpetual smile as he watched them all eat.

Then Chen Rui came running, a familiar little bell with green tassel in hand. Wan Yu blinked. He hadn't given him that yet, had he?

"Jiujiu, Jiujiu, a man is looking for you!"

Wan Yu rose from his seat, ruffling Chen Rui's hair as he nudged the kid to go sit and eat. "A man?"

"Mhm! He wears blue, and he gave me this bell."

What…? That could only be Ye Xiyang… But what for? How would he know this place, anyway? Expression a bit wary, he turned to give Ah-Niang and Chen Lan a smile, gesturing that he'd be right back. 

"Yuyu," Ah-Niang called gently, "If it's a friend, invite him to join us ba."

...If it's a friend.

The world seemed to quiet to an unnerving degree as Wan Yu made his way around the house, circling through one side feeling like a man planning a robbery. Maybe everyone at the table had hushed because of the situation. Wan Yu could feel the tension wrapping like tangled vines growing too close to the roof. And when he passed the corner:

Standing like a poet contemplating nature was Ye Xiyang, looking at a tree with surprising interest. An open umbrella, a clean, bright white, shielded him from the midday sun. Upon hearing Wan Yu's footsteps, he turned with a smile.

"Wan Yu," he said, nodding.

...What a bizarre sight. In the back of his mind, Wan Yu noted that the discomfort he felt was because Ye Xiyang's smile looked genuine, unlike the one he wore while harassing him. For some reason, this man looked pleased.

"Why are you here?"

"To return something," Ye Xiyang said. He then held out his hand, revealing a pearl. "This is yours."

The world froze. Wan Yu stared at the pearl. Once he could break free from it, he stared at Ye Xiyang, grievance all over his face.

"Why would you do this to me?"

Why would you do this to me?

They were sitting down now, Wan Yu unsure of how and when that happened, but Ye Xiyang patiently explained other matters. "I'm only returning this. What you do with it is up to you."

"You know full well I have no other options now. Why are you playing coy!"

"But you do have other options." Ye Xiyang looked at him, syllables enunciated with painful clarity. "Fate is both immutable and changeable, is it not? If I say it's impossible to alter it, how come we're both in the past, making different choices and getting different results?"

Wan Yu gritted his teeth. "It's not the same. That's— this is— What I mean, now that you've given me this, how could I not…"

This time, Ye Xiyang didn't even wait for him to finish. "If one person has the ability to control your actions, it would be yourself. Chen Xi, why do you avoid taking responsibility for your own actions?"

Despair was the crash of a storm's wave, the clap of thunder: it was the sound, the syllables that hit first, stunning you for the second impact. Wan Yu froze in place, feeling all his limbs go cold. Losing all strength, he toppled.

Their surroundings had changed. When Wan Yu pushed himself back up, silent for the longest time, he looked up to see that by the water's side was a young man. He was small and delicate, but he appeared as though he was connected to the waters Wan Yu found himself in: he looked like a ghost at winter, and his soul had long been lost within the murky sands lining the deepest of lakes.

"The autumn river is cold," he said. Wan Yu couldn't commit his face to memory, but it was beautiful the way the thought of death was gentle. "Sometimes, I can't stop saying that. Rushu, do you feel that way, too?"

But Wan Yu recognized that voice. It was the way he spoke: everything became poetry, its edges softened by his tongue. Drenched, still submerged in the water, Wan Yu said, "The water is always cold."

The man held out a hand. Though it looked fragile, when Wan Yu reached out and grabbed it, he held on with surprising ease, unmoving as a mountain. Suddenly, Wan Yu sat at the shore, his feet the only thing within the boundless lake.

"What place lacks its beautiful dream?" The young man held his hand in his. It was ice cold, but it had a core of kindness, a warmth that required Wan Yu to dissipate his body into morning fog to feel. "What person lacks a secret sorrow? ¹A Lamp, by Li Shangyin, translation by Chloe Garcia Roberts You are the birth of a river, Rushu, the rain that feeds it. To become that rushing water, the bedrock of civilization, you rose many, many miles… and descended upon the world like the softest dew, the harshest of storms. It is cold up in the clouds."

Wan Yu looked to him as if he had all the answers. "Must we all fall?"

The young man, an apparition of mist and bamboo forests leading to the road of lost, placed his hand on the back of Wan Yu's neck. "We all follow different paths. The world asks a lot of you, and you flew so high on the winds of their expectations… Rushu, land like a tear. Though it is in sorrow, it is a sorrow shed.

"Land like a tear. Isn't it comforting? All sorrows, mere drops, delible as a track on a cheek, gone in moments. The autumn river is cold, its path to sea long. To cry is finite; the water is warm, and what follows is the peace of a numbed heart."

It felt like tears were trailing down Wan Yu's cheeks, too. "But it burns. On the way down. And then it's gone."

When the young man turned to look at him, before the dream faded like gentle waves lapping at shore, the young man smiled at him, and Wan Yu almost remembered his name.

____

 

“—ke up. Wake up. Wan Rushu…"

His eyes felt as though they'd been sewn shut. His body was heavy, too. His breathing might be what tipped Song Hua off to the fact that he'd woken. He stopped trying to stir Wan Yu awake, instead asking in a quiet murmur, "Would you like some water?"

Wan Yu opened his mouth. Only a raspy exhale came out.

Without a word, Song Hua poured some into a cup and passed it on to him. It took some time, but his hold on the cup was steady as he waited for Wan Yu to stir, his slow movement rendering him akin to a statue stirring. The water helped. Looking at Song Hua with exhausted eyes, Wan Yu let out a weak laugh. "I don't think sleep will give me much rest. I'll go meditate. Get some sleep, Song-ge."

Leaning back against a tree, Wan Yu took in deep breaths and stabilized himself. Song Hua was silent and unmoving for a moment before finally shifting, saying, "Wake me up by dawn?"

"Of course."

After that promise, Song Hua made himself comfortable and rested. He had always been neat in simplicity, and his expression was calm as he settled down, remaining largely unmoving as he fell asleep. Wan Yu stared for a while, as if to affirm that he was alive, before he relaxed.

Today's dream was no better than last time. Last time, it had been… But now, the regrets felt more all-encompassing. He couldn't help but think about dream Ye Xiyang's words: If one person has the ability to control your actions, it would be yourself.

Chen Xi, why do you avoid taking responsibility for your own actions?

He was doing this out of his own volition. Once more, he was the one who started this, the one responsible for…

Land like a tear. Rushu, you are the birth of the river…

Wan Yu looked up to the moon. That other person, he remembered. He was the last person to give him shelter, and Wan Yu had left with someone else, only to end up injured at the foot of the Slumbering Dragon Mountain. His name and face still eluded him, but the echoes of his voice remained, as though his words were the heart of him. He liked to recite poetry.

Wan Yu knew that he could probably track that man down; he was part of the jianghu, that much was clear, and Wan Yu was clear in his heart that the man was not one to go anywhere. That much, he was sure… or was he?

But then he realized what he wanted to do. Discounting the question of whether he even ought to drag another soul into his struggles, this was the past. Over fifteen years prior, where would that man be?

Turning his gaze to the sky, Wan Yu took deep breaths and stared at the few faint stars that peeked between the inky black foliage. There was no need to think too hard about this right now; he ought to do it later, when he wasn't so busy with a time-sensitive errand. If he, as a cultivator, couldn't even keep his thoughts in check and under control, what worth was his lifetime of meditation...

His thoughts didn't quiet down, even as the sun rose. At dawn, Wan Yu woke Song Hua and they ate quickly before leaving.

It was late in the afternoon when they finally could see the gates of Heiwu on the horizon, the people lingering around outside it. The town that tended to quiet at daylight hours was still tame now, and Wan Yu guided them both to the ground before walking, Song Hua's grip firm on his upper arm, into town.