#non-fixit where he just fucks off and sets up the radish farm on some truly deserted mountain bc can the jianghu sort itself out for once

[presumenothing]

When he finally wrenches his eyes open from another iron-ringed seize of coughs only to find himself in different waters atop the remains of an entirely too-familiar ship, Li Lianhua– Li Xiangyi– whoever the wreckage of him is, now, driftwood and flotsam laughing until he chokes on the bitter salt of it because even in granting him a second chance the fates have still seen fit to make it too late—

Or perhaps he has just lost his mind at last, as that old monk Wuliao has been warning him might happen.

It would hardly be inaccurate, after all, to say that some part of him has never moved on from this place.