#IM NOT SUPPOSED TO BE STARTING AN INTENDED MULTICHAP THIS DOESN'T END WELL GOOD GOD WHAT AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE

[qilingxiong]

writing has truly felt like pulling teeth the last few days, but here, have a hard-earned snippet of something *falls down*

The shards of Shaoshi are still shattered on the road when he finds his way to Wangjiang Pavilion, sun slanting nearly at its peak. Xiao Zijin didn't even bother gathering them up or placing them to the side, the bastard; Di Feisheng would fly to Sigu Sect and duel the man in the courtyard himself for it if he thought it was worth his time.

(One day Di Feisheng will hunt him down. If not for Xiao Zijin's insecure stupidity, he might have laid eyes upon Li Xiangyi again. But he has priorities, and one fumbling idiot, clinging to the reputation of a sect that is only the shell of its former glory, is currently irrelevant.)

Dust has already settled on Shaoshi's hilt. Di Feisheng reaches for it, settles it in his grasp. Even unbalanced like this, with its blade in pieces, its former quality as a weapon is evident by touch. But the strike of Yangzhouman remains where he strokes the hammered clouds of the grip. There is no spirit to this sword now, broken by the inner energy it was aligned with for so long.

Li Xiangyi is dead, but his sword is not, Di Feisheng told him half a month ago, unthinking but for the wine in his hand and the rush of being alive, both himself and the man across from him. The last laugh Shaoshi has become is sharper than the remains it's broken into. Even mended, it will no longer be the same blade that first carved out the forms of Xiangyi Taijian.

Li Xiangyi is dead.

His words were the ones taken from Li Xiangyi's mouth, an acquiescence then, because how could Li Xiangyi be dead when here he was? Smiling, as tangible a thing as the touch of Yangzhouman singing through Di Feisheng's meridians. Beifeng Baichang had let him survive, retreat into himself, but Yangzhouman allowed him to live again.

With strength left in Li Xiangyi to snap his own sword, was it enough to save its founder one last time, too?

"Zunshang."

Wuyan lands without sound in the shadow of the pavilion, crouching into a bow. Di Feisheng motions for him to rise. At least there'll always be one man in this world to appear on time.

"Have everyone left search for Li Xiangyi. Send them downriver first. Check for any abandoned boats on the shore. I want to know everything, whether you succeed or not."

"Understood. What should we do if we find him?"

"If he's dead, bring him back. Or tell me where he's buried."

"And if he's alive?"

He's still owed the chance to face Li Xiangyi, left to know more of him in Di Feisheng's second life than just water-stained lines on paper. This, is something he should fight for.

And yet somewhere folded in Fang Duobing's belt is Li Xiangyi's letter, the only farewell he stopped to give. When the time comes, it comes.

What's the difference between a last goodbye, and a letting go?

Wuyan looks up. "Zunshang?"

Di Feisheng kneels on dusty ground and tears at the hem of his inner robe, something at hand to wrap Shaoshi in. There's still things yet of Li Xiangyi to pick up the pieces of. "Wuyan, have you ever thought I had an answer for everything?"

"I—"

"Because I'm realizing that I don't think I do." He folds the bundle into his own palm. "Go."

"So if Li Xiangyi is still in the Jianghu?"

Shaoshi's hilt weighs heavy in Di Feisheng's other hand, turned to dead metal.

"Ask me again when you find him."