Chapter Text
[12 years ago, in the Baixue Province]
The news that a cultivator had come down from Baoshan Sanren's mountain spread like wildfire. Although it had been two generations since Yanling Daoren descended into madness and villainy, and one generation since Baoshan Sanren had died her tragic death, people still remembered where they had come from, and remembered their master.
He uses a style of cultivation that no one has seen before, the families whispered excitedly. His sword is ordinary steel, and yet it creates pillars of ice as far as the eye can see.He faced a thousand ghouls in the cursed battlefields of LangZhu and suppressed them all.The sky itself turned clear when he swept by, and he cleared the world of rot and decay wherever he went.
Song Lan thought the rumors might have been a little exaggerated. The noble cultivating families loved nothing more than fresh gossip.
Unfortunately, he belonged to one of those very families.
"You should go meet him," his lady mother said. "He is said to be extremely good looking, if a little eccentric. His cultivation base is incredibly strong. He would make a valuable ally, if only he would stay in one place for longer than - Song Zichen, are you listening to me? Or are these words going in one ear and right out the other?"
Song Lan looked up from the wooden planks of the bridge, where he had been tossing crumbs into the pond below. Several large carp with glittering scales gathered underneath him, their mouths opening and closing. In the bright summer sunshine, he looked much younger and looser than the stern black figure he would grow up to become.
"I'm sorry," he laughed. "I heard you say someone was good looking and tuned out the rest. I assumed that you were trying to marry me off again."
His mother gritted her teeth. "Don't joke about that," she said coldly. "If you hadn't frightened off those last two girls so badly, you would have a wife by now!"
"I don't want a wife," Song Lan said carelessly, tossing the last of his bread into the pond and standing up.
He stretched and smiled up into the sky. It was a beautiful day, with light winds making slight ripples on the surface of the clear blue pond. This garden was his favorite place, with its carefully designed stone paths and tall trees with their sweeping branches, and this low red bridge made of simple wood but carved and decorated by a master artisan. He had hoped to spend another quiet day here, only to be interrupted by his lady mother.
"You are going to the Discussion Conference this year," she said firmly. Song Lan acquiesced with a shrug. "He will be there, and you will introduce yourself to him. Ask him if he is interested in becoming a guest disciple. Try to get close to him. Try to find out what he knows."
Song Lan let all of her words fade into the background. She could say whatever she wanted, but if he did not hear her, then he did not have to comply. He did not feel like wasting his time in stuffy halls amidst even stuffier company, but he had no choice.
He tapped his fingers against the wooden banister and looked up at the sky. It was filled with white clouds that seemed to swallow up his mother's words and muffle them, or maybe that was just his imagination.
It would be nice to live under a cloudless sky, he decided. But those days would never last.
.
When they did finally meet, it was under one of those clear skies, with a bite of winter in the wind. Song Lan had been dragged over to the Discussion Conference at the Golden Carp Tower, and he stood off to one side, ignoring the opulent gilded statues and the expensive finery in favor of a small pond. Despite the name of the place, the carp here were not all golden. Instead, they flashed silver and red and orange and white, beneath the surface. He smiled at them as he spread the last few crumbs of the LanlingJin Sect's finest pastries across the water's surface.
"You must be Song Zichen," a voice said off to the side.
Song Lan did not care to look up. "That I am," he said and watched the carp scales flash in the winter sunlight.
There was a light laugh, even though he hadn't said anything particularly funny, even though he was, in fact, being quite rude. Surprised at finding such a pleasant sound in this unpleasant place, Song Lan looked up at last.
The man off to his side was surprisingly young, with simple white robes and a thin, handsome face. His eyes danced with amusement as he regarded Song Lan, and instantly Song Lan knew that this must be Xiao Xīngchen, and that all the rumors about him must have been true.
"You must be Xiao Xīngchén," he said formally, standing up straight so that he could greet the other man properly.
"I am," Xiao Xingchen came over to see what he had been looking at. Song Lan shifted a little to the side, to give him space.
"I've heard of you," he commented, to fill the silence. "They say you're talented but eccentric, and almost impossible to tie down. At least ten different cultivating families have offered to take you in, but you've refused every one of them."
"I've heard of you too," Xiao Xingchen returned, not sounding offended in the least. "I've heard that you're cold and unfriendly, and you hate being touched."
"It's true," Song Lan said. He was suddenly aware of every inch of empty space between them. He gave Xiao Xingchen a sidelong glance. "Are you here to try and cure me?"
There were many tales of miracle cures and advanced medical knowledge that Baoshan Sanren had hidden away in her mountain. No doubt so many families were eager to get their hands on Xiao Xingchen because they thought he knew such secrets. But Xiao Xingchen merely shook his head.
"I'm here to be your friend," he said simply.
Song Lan smiled at him. Then he turned to his side, leaning his elbow against the railing. "Listen," he said, not unkindly. "You seem like a decent person. I'm not too sure what your game is, but I'll give you some advice: you're best off avoiding someone like me."
"Why is that?" Xiao Xingchen asked, genuinely curious. He glanced down at the carp in the pond and noted the crumbs still floating on the surface. He clasped his hands over the railing to watch the fish underneath the bridge. Song Lan noted how thin his wrists were, and wondered distantly where he found the strength to lift a sword.
"Haven't you heard? I'm the black sheep of my family. They'll lug me around to Discussion Conferences like these, and then I'll lose face for them by not participating in anything. But they keep doing it."
Xiao Xingchen laughed again. Song Lan couldn't understand why he felt lighter, like a breeze had come by to lift up his spirits.
"I'm sure it's not that bad," Xiao Xingchen said.
Song Lan nodded towards the Main Hall, with its brightly lit lanterns and golden arches. "I've offended everyone in there at least twice. The only reason they let me in at all is because my family insists on it." He grinned at Xiao Xingchen, to show that it didn't bother him at all. "You, on the other hand, are the rising star of the cultivation world right now. You should be putting your popularity to better use than trying to make friends with me."
Xiao Xingchen hesitated, then admitted: "I think I've offended everyone in there at least three times over. If anyone else sidles up to me to try and convince me that their sister is a beauty, or that they have a lot of money, I'm going to find a mountain to go up and never come back."
Song Lan surprised himself by bursting out into laughter.
It felt good to laugh. It felt like he hadn't laughed in years. He had been living under a suffocating cloud for so long. Song Lan finally understood why it was said that Xiao Xingchen brought a clear sky with him wherever he went.
"So it seems the rumors aren't true after all," Xiao Xingchen said, smiling. "You're not half as frightening as the others make you out to be."
"No, it's true," Song Lan said, still laughing. "Everything they say about me - that I'm mysophobic, that I'm cold and distant - that's how I really am most of the time. I just didn't expect the rumors about you to be true as well."
"What rumors?" Xiao Xingchen asked.
Song Lan beckoned Xiao Xingchen closer, and put his mouth against the curve of Xiao Xingchen's ear.
"Here's the secret," he said. "There are nothing but rumors in the cultivation world - it's all a sham. We decide our truths blindly, sitting behind gilded doors. We repeat our nonsense to each other until it becomes reality. And once enough people believe in it, once there's a narrative, who cares what actually happened? Down here, it's all just cultivators trying to hog glory for themselves and brag about it to each other. You should have stayed on your mountain, Xiao Xingchen."
He drew back, to see what effect his words had. Xiao Xingchen was staring back at him, eyes dark and wide, his smile gone.
Song Lan's chest felt tight. Most people fled once they saw this side of him, this bitterness. If his lady mother had her way, he would always be wearing a mask, cool and distant and polite. He could pass as a decent cultivator that way, one who did not lose his temper and allow his emotions to rule him.
Xiao Xingchen still hadn't moved. His eyes were fixed on Song Lan with a startling intensity.
"You are the second person I've met," he said slowly. "That does not pretend that cultivators are perfect."
"Who was the first?"
"My shijie." Xiao Xingchen looked lost for a moment and then admitted. "When I came down the mountain, I found out that she had died in a night hunt years ago."
Then Song Lan saw it, the reason for Xiao Xingchen's odd behavior and his unwillingness to integrate into the cultivation world that seemed so fixated on him.
His heart wrenched suddenly. Xiao Xingchen, he thought. You never should have left your mountain. This is a world of demons and wolves. We'll devour you and your ideals, and leave nothing but bones.
But instead, he said softly, "I never knew her."
"It's alright," Xiao Xingchen said, smiling as if he had just discovered a secret. "We should talk, Song Lan. I would be very interested in hearing what you have to say."
.
.
.
[One year later]
Baixue Temple did not always live under a shadow of perpetual gloom, under dark clouds and oppressive skies. In the mid-summer heat, a year after the Discussion Conference, the walls of the temple shone in the sunlight, and the dark-lacquered wood became hot to the touch. The tiled roofs glistened and gave off a hazy light. Men and women strolled easily through the courtyards, enjoying the high temperatures.
"Song Lan!" A cry went up from the gates. "There's someone here to see you!"
At the gate, Xiao Xingchen folded his hands respectfully. His robes were an impossible white despite the summer dust, fluttering easily in the slight wind. His face wore a slight smile, a refreshing smile, some said, feeling as though their hearts grew lighter upon seeing him.
His appearance, as always, caused many to gather around him eagerly and ask how he'd been. The people living near Baixue Temple held a special fondness for Xiao Xingchen. After all, he had been the one to finally pull Song Lan out of his semi-isolated state. Before, they rarely had the chance to see their young master, and rumors about his poor health abounded - that he was sick, unfit, or unwell. Now though -
Xiao Xingchen took a half step back, hand going to his sword. That was all the warning the others had before a figure crashed through the gate.
That figure was Song Lan, who was not only smiling but grinning widely as his sword clashed loudly against Xiao Xingchen's Shuanghua. The people of Baixue Temple always knew that their young master's swordsmanship was excellent, but due to his reclusive nature, they had never been able to witness it before. Now, they saw Song Lan spar with Xiao Xingchen, in full view, trading blow for excellent blow. To any trained eye, it was obvious that they were evenly matched.
Ignoring the crowd that had formed around them, Song Lan held his sword at a downward slanted angle. His shoulders were relaxed, but he stood ready to leap at any moment, tense without being stiff. He was the very picture of arrogance.
"Come to challenge me again?" he asked. "You should give up already, Xingchen. I'm on a four-game winning streak. I'm unstoppable now."
"You're winning by 51 to 47, Zichen," Xiao Xingchen replied flatly, but his lips twitched as he fought not to smile. He struck out, blade dancing in the air, and Song Lan turned it away with a flick of his wrist. "Those four wins really don't mean much."
"Making excuses already?" Song Lan spun his blade lazily in his hand, stepping forward. From his grin, he was intending to milk those extra four wins for all they were worth. "You know, maybe I just have you figured out, Xingchen. I must know your blade as well as my own by now."
At this, Xiao Xingchen's smile finally broke out on his face, but he just said: "We'll see about that." His blade flew again, and the white steel flashed.
Shuanghua was a sword that was the envy of the cultivation world, but part of the reason why it was so well recognized was the skill of its bearer. Xiao Xingchen's swordplay could only be described as light - as light as a feather on the wind, faster than the blink of an eye. He didn't just swing his sword and rely on brute force and overpowering spiritual energy like many other cultivators did. He created openings with a dexterity that surprised many and struck with quick, decisive blows.
On the other hand, Song Lan fought with efficient, almost lazy movements. He stood still, his dark eyes glittering with amusement, watching Xiao Xingchen. Then, with seemingly no effort, his blade would spin up and knock away a blow that seemed to come out of nowhere. His feet never moved as he parried blow after blow, and returned with a few of his own. There was an air of inevitability about him, a patient, slow wearing down of Xiao Xingchen's defenses.
To the onlookers, it seemed more like a dance than a fight.
"Don't feel too bad," Song Lan said later, after having racked up his fifth win in a row. Xiao Xingchen slid his sword back into his sheath with a small sigh. "I have nothing but time to kill, here, while you've been on the road."
They were cooling down from their fight in the small, private courtyard with the red bridge and the pond full of carp. A fountain burbled cheerily nearby. Song Lan resisted the urge to dunk his entire head in. Instead, he just flicked some water toward Xiao Xingchen.
"Cheer up," he said as Xiao Xingchen continued to sulk. "A glum face doesn't suit you, Xingchen."
Xiao Xingchen swatted at him. "This meekness doesn't suit you, Zichen. Go back to being the arrogant creature you were before. It'll make it all the sweeter when I finally have my revenge."
Song Lan grinned. "I'm just helping you find excuses for the next time you lose."
"There it is," Xiao Xingchen muttered to himself, "And he's back."
Song Lan couldn't help it. He laughed. "Did you miss me?"
Xiao Xingchen's eyes raised to meet his, startled for a moment. Then he said: "I did," low and soft and sincere enough to make it all but a confession.
It was enough to steal all the breath from Song Lan's lungs. He had always been weak to Xiao Xingchen's earnest side.
"You were gone for a while, this time," he said. "Will you stay for dinner? I promise to keep you far away from my mother, and that I have no beautiful sisters."
Song Lan's mother was an icy woman, tall and harsh like the winter climate up north, with a touch of bitterness in her eyes and her mouth that only came from a lifetime of injured pride. Sect Leader wives were often expected to be powerful in their own right, but never too visible. She had resented that for much of her life, and her son had been one of the few ways to rectify that.
There were few people that could scare Xiao Xingchen, but Song Lan's mother terrified him.
Xiao Xingchen laughed and shot Song Lan a strange, strained smile. "I really appreciate it," he said. "But I have to head out again before nightfall."
Song Lan ignored the sensation of his heart dropping. "Where to?" he asked. "And why so soon?"
Xiao Xingchen paused for a moment, considering him. He looked unusually serious, without his slight smile. He drew a deep breath.
"If you have nothing but time to kill," Xiao Xingchen said, "Why not come with me to the ChengShu province? There have been an unusually high number of disappearances in that area over the last twenty years."
It was an invitation, plain and simple, but Song Lan felt as if he had been given the highest degree of trust that someone could offer. All cultivators were fiercely protective of their night-hunts, and even Xiao Xingchen would not give away that information lightly. Song Lan felt that trust settle somewhere in his chest and glow like a warm coal.
"ChengShu," Song Lan thought for a bit. "That's quite far, isn't it?"
"It is." Xiao Xingchen hesitated, unsure, as if he did not know that Song Lan was already preparing to follow him to the ends of the world. "It's extremely remote, and a thousand leagues away from the nearest watchtower. The people there have been left to fend for themselves for the most part, but things have gotten bad. I couldn't ignore their request."
He glanced at Song Lan's face, and apparently finding his expression unreadable, kept talking. "I know you're the Clan heir, I know you have responsibilities here and can't drop everything to just leave. I would very much like for you to come, don't get me wrong. I just - "
Song Lan silenced him with a smile, the kind of smile one wears when he realizes that he is finally free to go wherever he wished, even to a place with cloudless skies.
"When do we head out?" he asked. "I'll go wherever you go."
