#ye baiyi/rong changqing

[tbgkaru-woh]

Challenger.

[candidsoup]

So I know Word of Honor has several iconic scenes that made people go, "Wow, I can't believe this was allowed past censorship!", but I feel like no one talks about this one!! And I think it's actually one of the more surprising ones!!

At the end of episode 12, Zhou Zishu reveals to everyone at the table (Cao Weining, Wen Kexing, and Gu Xiang) that he's terminally ill (in addition to talking about traveling with his zhiji, wink wink). Early in episode 13, Cao Weining waxes poetic about love, and how emotional he is, and we get this scene. THIS SCENE very, very, very overtly puts Zhou Zishu's and Wen Kexing's relationship in the same context as (a hypothetical heterosexual) marriage. And Gu Xiang's response of, "Oh, you mean my master and ... Zhou Xu? They do look good together." I mean..... lmao.

By the way, the show hints at Ye Baiyi's past with his unrequited love, Rong Changqing throughout, but one thing I noticed on rewatch is that he is introduced later in this same episode. The same episode with Cao Weining's speech about the sword and the scabbard, we meet this man with a sword he carries in a cloth wrap... he's missing the original scabbard... (it was originally Rong Changqing's sword...) (I cry...)

(Note: I must mention the word translated as "soulmate" doesn't necessarilyyyy mean anything romantic, and so Cao Weining calling Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing soulmates (zhiji) is the LEAST surprising thing about the scene)

[vanilla-phantoms]

So hear me out. Yknow ye baiyi and rong changqing. What if yby gets hanahaki but when he becomes immortal it doesn’t cure it it just means that it can’t kill him, and so yby has this progressive terrible disease that gets far worse than it would be capable of getting in a normal living person, and he continues to have it even after rcq dies

[sadfishkid]

龙背

[omgpurplefattie]

These are the stories of some people, all more or less queer, that live their lives in the City, are all interconnected (either as friends or as rivals) and go through both fun and difficult times together.

This modern AU for several historical and/or wuxia c-dramas is set in some large globalised city adjacent to the Sinosphere, or at least with a very sizeable Chinese diaspora. I don't know enough about Taipeh, and Singapore is out of the question for reasons, so I'm just calling it The City and shall leave it at that. It has everything a city needs -- a university, high-rises, an IKEA, internet cafés, a gay scene, corruption in the building sector, an airport, and young edgy artists. It's hot there in the summer, very rainy in autumn (think typhoons, the way they tend to interrupt life in Japan) and temperate in winter. In this place, characters from

Word of Honor

The Untamed

A League of Nobleman

Mysterious Lotus Casebook

Sleuth of Ming Dynasty

and some more that are a bit blink-and-you-miss it,

are living their modern, non-magical lives which I am following along in this series.

The main parts are "A Matter of Priorities" (Rong Changqing/Ye Baiyi from Word of Honor / Tian Ya Ke) and "Detoxify" (Li Lianhua/Di Feisheng/Fang Duobing from Mysterious Lotus Casebook), but everybody gets their moment in the limelight. Even Mo Xuanyu.-

Re-post of this self-promo inspired by @fealiniel's recent post. Thanks to @busarewski for cheering me on while writing, and helping me pick the banner.

[birbfeeder2artisticboogaloo]

a daydream

[booksandwords]

Xie'er could feel the Xie Wang part of him losing patience before he put a mental lid over that boiling pot. He's not used to being denied physical intimacy, no matter how awkward or unique the situation.

For better yesterdays by @tbgkaru-woh

This is a beautiful fic. I didn’t know what I was getting into when I clicked on it, the tags kinda explain what is going on but make much more sense in retrospect. A combination of YeXie and RongYe

[deboracabral]

modern ye baiyi and rong changqing having bubble tea for @omgpurplefattie 🙏 Thank you!

[minnarr]

ten first lines

tagged by @leenik-geelo and @rainsfalling (thank you!!)

1. There’s a whole group here from Taihu Sect, puffed up in their uniforms. (first sight, word of honor, sort of luo fumeng/zhao jing, 3/4/24)

2. “Don’t move,” Wen Kexing grumbled, pressing humid kisses into Zhou Zishu’s shoulder. (No Shortage of Nights, word of honor, wenzhou, 1/13/2024)

3. “And don’t come back!” Zhang Nianxiang fumed, following it up with a solid kick that sent the last of the boys sprawling onto the street. (The Road Is Never Lonely, gen, 12/31/23)

4. The days of Ye Baiyi’s long seclusion varied little. (Here Comes Trouble, gen, 12/31/23)

5. Someone sat down across from Gao Xiaolian’s desk. (The Demon General's Wife, word of honor, gao xiaolian/gu xiang, 10/27/23)

6. Gu Miaomiao slipped into the room they’d taken at the inn on silent feet. (secret weapon, word of honor, gen, 8/18/23)

7. Siji Manor’s front courtyard was so full of people, Gao Xiaolian almost didn’t recognize it. (take a little time (walk a little line), word of honor, gao xiaolian/ofc (also gxl&deng kuan platonic marriage), 5/26/23)

8. Somewhere outside, the sun still shines. (Carve Out My Heart, word of honor, yue feng'er/rong xuan but primarily horror, 5/1/23)

9. Ye Baiyi came into the house on Mount Changming like a stormcloud. (take a look at what we've made, word of honor, rong changqing/ye baiyi, 4/5/23)

10. Zhou Zishu had been spending a lot of time outside his own house the past few weeks. (sample of one, qi ye, wu xi & zhou zishu platonic kissing with bg wu xi/jing beiyuan, 4/5/23)

what I've learned is that I need to write fewer first lines about people's status vis a vis being inside places, and also carve out my heart is still a banger

tagging (no pressure) @orchisailsa @antique-forvalaka @monsterbookworm @stifledlaughterao3

[tbgkaru-woh]

few updated pictures for prints :D

[melodious-tear]

Top 3 fics of yours that you wish everyone would read—GO! Then remember to pass this on to at least 5 other people ❤️

(I know you did it before but in case you changed your mind ;P)

I didn't change my mind about the others, but I have fics that need more love too, and it's hard to decide anyway! XD

A ghost in the neon light (The Untamed) This little Xiyao one started out with one sentence I couldn't get out of my head, and it became this slightly spooky reincarnation fic which has, other than originally planned, a happy ending.

Evening with an old friend (Word of Honor) A small, poetic take on Ye Baiyi's last days, remembering his time with Rong Changqing. It's sad, naturally. :'D

The Big Headache (Love and Redemption) This is one of the fics I regularly re-read. idk how to call it, sophisticated crack? XD I'm very fond of this one.

[qinyan]

@baijingshen​ 🤍💜

He didn’t expect to see him here out of everyone else. When the waitress slides the door open, Xie’er’s eyes widen in surprise at long white robes, fluttering gracefully. Eyebrows wrinkle at the heavy scent of alcohol in the air. He takes a step inside and dismisses the waitress with a wave of his hand. Suppose it’s not ill-fated to meet the Immortal Changming here. By the looks of things, Ye Baiyi seems to be too drunk to point a sword at his direction, even if the only other person in their shared room now is the head of a prestigious organization of assassins. Things could have been much worse.

With slow, gentle steps, Xie’er walks towards the dining table and sits down, propping a leg and an elbow up, gaze never leaving Ye Baiyi, just in case. Perhaps Ye Baiyi was the last person he would expect to waste himself away in a tavern, but then again Xie’er never actually knew him, or why he’d left Changming mountain in the first place. Why would someone who has achieved immortality cares about what happens in Chang’an? Be it Gao Chong or Zhao Jing fighting to the death to be the alliance’s leader, the throes of worldly matters had nothing to do with him.

Lifting a hand, a finger gently comes to sweep his sleeves aside so he could reach for some peanuts. Ye Baiyi, dead drunk on the table, reaches out all of a suddenly and winds a tight grip around his wrist.

Am I finally dead, Changqing? Is that you—

Admittedly, he’s slightly taken aback by the gesture, frozen in place. He tilts his head to the side, eyes wide and twinkling with curiousity. Changqing and Changming Sword? Are they interlinked? He can’t come to conclusions with only half-baked theories, but with all that has happened, the breaking apart of the Five Lake Alliance, what else is there to be fought for in the Jianghu? 

Unless,

How is our son, Rong Xuan? Are you all reunited? Are you all happy?

Quickly, Xie’er retracts his hand as if he had been scathed, holding it close to his chest as if his fingers were licked by flames. “You scoundrel!” He hisses under his breathe. Realizing who Chamging might be—an old lover of Ye Baiyi, maybe—one half of him is seething with rage when he thought about being felt up and assumed to be someone else, yet the other more youthful and romantic half of him can’t help but reddens at the thought.

Who is Changqing? 

Ye Baiyi seems to be hopelessly drunk. He collapses onto the table after being pushed away. He takes in the sight of the situation, watching the unsheathed sword on the table and the words carven onto it. 

‘Our’ Rong Xuan, huh. Can a man and a man really have a son? Or had the son been Changqing’s, and you’ve raised someone else’s son, Hero Ye? Adopted Rong Xuan. Just like how yifu had adopted him.

Forget it. A sigh. Xie’er got to his feet, adjusting his sleeve over the skin of his palm where Ye Baiyi’s fingers were just a minute ago. He walks a semi-circle around the table, picking up the cloak that had been lying on the ground and wraps it around the older man’s shoulders. 

He sharply avoids Ye Baiyi’s hand when it reaches out to grab him again, muttering: Changqing, Changqing, how long has it been? But I still think about you... 

In a fit of pity, Xie’er leans down, braids sliding down his shoulders and causing the bells in his braids to jingle. He whispers into Ye Baiyi’s ear, “It is because you love him.”

[muqingseyeroll]

i feel like i should make a post saying what my blog is about. i mostly use tumblr on mobile (i know), and mostly i just kinda use it casually, lurking around, and saving/rbing stuff that i like. so don’t expect too much organization or original content here. but the stuff i do make myself, i tag with #made by suna.

i’m (currently) into danmei/bl, which this blog is mostly dedicated to. but again i am a disorganized mess so i will probably like and rb other stuff on here too.

if you know any good gl media set in ancient asia, please please please let me know because i am desperate for it but cannot find it anywhere :C

i consume most danmei in chinese since i grew up in china and am a native speaker, so sometimes i may be confused about the english names of places/things/people’s titles in these works. please be gentle ^_^

if you scroll down far enough you can find random stuff i rb’d before i really knew how tumblr worked and before i got into danmei so you can just ignore them :’)

under the cut: what i’ve watched/read, what’s next on my list, and my sloppy tagging system. i might update it whenever, or not. we’ll see c:

here is the list of things i’ve read/watched/am into:

mo dao zu shi / grandmaster of demonic cultivation by mxtx

i’ve watched chen qing ling / the untamed (live action adaptation)

i’ve read the book

i’ve watched the q animation

i’m a few eps into the animated adaptation but i need a subscription to continue so i put it on pause for now

have not listened to the audio dramas

my ships:

lan wangji/wei wuxian, lan xichen/jin guangyao

my no-no ships:

jiang cheng/wei wuxian, jiang cheng/wen qing, wei wuxian/wen qing

ships that i don’t feel too much about either way:

jiang cheng/nie huaisang, 3zun

any of the junior ships (they’re all so cute together, any pair would work well tbh lmao)

tian ya ke / faraway wanderers by priest

i’ve watched shan he ling / word of honor (live action adaptation)

have not watched the shl concert

have not read the book

started a little bit on the prequel book qi ye / lord seventh

my ships:

wen kexing/zhou zishu, ye baiyi/rong changqing, cao weining/gu xiang, jing beiyuan/wuxi (basically all the canon ships)

du pusa/qiao luohan (the two ladies out of the four scorpion assassins)

luo fumeng/liu qianqiao (tragicomic ghost/beauty ghost)

my no-no ships:

ye baiyi/wen kexing (seriously who came up with this? no judgment to people who enjoy it but personally it’s really not for me lmao)

ships that i feel neutral about:

hanwenzhou

tian guan ci fu / heaven official’s blessing by mxtx

i’ve watched season 1 of the animated adaptation

i’m looking forward to the live action adaptation!! (hopefully airing in 2023) i’m not sure what name it’s going by yet

i’ve just started on the book

and a long time ago i’ve watched nirvana in fire / lang ya bang, which is not bl but is still a great period drama. 10/10 recommend

on my list next, in no particular order, are the following:

svsss

2ha

sha po lang

qiang jin jiu

love between fairy and devil (bg, not bl)

kinnporsche (thai, not chinese)

hannibal (also not chinese)

feel free to send recommendations my way!!

i have an awful tagging system, but basically:

#woh -- word of honor/tian ya ke stuff

#wenzhou -- wen kexing/zhou zishu

#woh gifs, #woh fanfic, #woh fanart, #woh fan comic

#mdzs -- mo dao zu shi/chen qing ling stuff

#wangxian -- lan wangji/wei wuxian

#mdzs fanfic, #mdzs fanart, #mdzs fan comic

#tgcf -- tian guan ci fu stuff

#hualian -- hua cheng/xie lian

character tags: #wen kexing, #zhou zishu, #wei wuxian, #lan wangji, etc

my stuff: #made by suna

[omgpurplefattie]

for the character-centric stories prompts, Ye Baiyi and "What would happen to a houseplant in their care?" ♥

“She’s not going to kill you if they don’t all survive,” Rong Changqing had told Ye Baiyi after Rong-furen had finally stopped with her instructions, repeated instructions, and even more admonitions.

“Not so sure,” Ye Baiyi said, trying to commit to memory what the little yellow orchids needed. They wanted little water, right, but regularly, and they could never be allowed to remain standing in a puddle?

Compared to the orchids, the large pot of silvergrass was simple. The kitchen herbs were even simpler -- give them two ladles of water whenever they started looking a bit wan.

“Don’t think about the damn plants,” Rong Changqing assured him, “the main thing is you keep training Xuan-er and make sure he goes to bed before midnight. And don’t let him tinker in my workshop by himself. At least not after midnight. Please? Baiyi?”

If Changqing looked at him like that, with his beautiful smile and beautiful eyes, what else could Ye Baiyi do but grumble “I’ll try to” ungraciously, rather than smile back and reflect the things that Changqing made him feel. Every. Single. Time.

You’d think he would be used to it by now. For the Heavens’ sake, Xuan-er was already nine; the pain in those feelings should have worn down, become dulled and familiar. Perhaps it was the immortality that Rong Changqing had so unwisely cultivated and then dumped on Ye Baiyi; not only Ye Baiyi’s body, even his feelings were preserved forever unchanging in a block of clear ice.

“Don’t look so crestfallen, Baiyi,” Rong Changqing said. “It’s not even a month; we just have to be at the wedding of my lady’s youngest brother. We’ll hurry back as fast as we can. And Xuan-er can help you. If you’re really scared of what she’ll do to you if her chives have turned into hay, or the forge cats have peed on the basil.”

“I’m not scared,” Ye Baiyi grumbled. “I’m just offended that you wouldn’t even trust me with a fucking potted houseplant. I can feed the forge cats all right, and make sure that Xuan-er eats every day and sets nothing on fire. So why should I kill the damn orchids?”

“The forge cats,” Rong Changqing laughed, “will complain very loudly if you don’t feed them every day. Plants, however, just wilt quietly, and before you realize it, they’re dead.”

“Speak for yourself,” Ye Baiyi said, glaring up at Changqing, “I know what qi feels like, and I won’t let it falter.”

“Course you do,” Rong Changqing said, easily, but Ye Baiyi felt he still didn’t believe him. He made a face.

***

Two lunar months later, the Rongs returned, with a lot of gifts and good food for Xuan-er, and a few books they had thought Ye Baiyi might like, as well as a few bottles of syrup for him to flavor his snow with.

Xuan-er had built a box that would shoot crossbow bolts without the crossbow, steadily feeding them into the mechanism; he proudly presented it to his father, and they took quite a while to take it apart and then improve it so it would shoot even faster.

Baiyi went and had some snow with pomegranate syrup; it wasn’t bad, really. He perched on a rock and looked into the valley where he hadn’t been for so long, except in especially fierce winters, and then only for a little bit.

He didn’t know how he felt about Changqing and Rong-furen being back. Life with Xuan-er had been fun; they had trained every day, there had been no set bedtimes or mealtimes for either of them, and they had just ambled through their days in the snow. Xuan-er’s martial arts had taken leaps and bounds with nobody to interrupt him. He did look a little unkempt now, but really, all those hot baths were overrated, especially for a nine year old.

It was already getting dark when Rong-furen came out to get her husband and son from the workshop; the fire was going, and she had been cooking dinner.

“What have you done to my plants?” she asked, casually, as she passed Ye Baiyi.

“Nothing,” he said, “except what you’d told me. The forge cats were much harder to take care of; the calico brought out her kittens, and we kept running after them. Xuan-er shot at an eagle who tried to grab one. They’re all doing fine.”

“Don’t deflect,” Rong-furen said. “My plants have never been this lush and healthy. You have made cuttings from the orchids, and the roots are coming on fine; the basil is almost a tree now, and the other herbs fairly burst from their window boxes. I have noticed the kittens because they were playing hide-and-seek in the silvergrass and jumping up to catch the fronds. The lotuses in their basin and the peonies in their container are already flowering even though it’s early for them, this far up. You turned out to be an excellent gardener.”

“I just did what you told me,” Ye Baiyi said. “I checked every day, and made sure the forge cats didn’t pee on them. That’s all.”

He may have been feeding the plants a little of his qi, but hey, he was an immortal, he had the stuff to spare.

“Do you want to carry on doing it?” she asked. “I have seen the way you repotted the little blue orchids; there was so much care and attention in the work. You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

“Nah,” Baiyi said, “they’re your plants. I just didn’t want to be the one who killed them. Changqing -- well, he thought I’d screw up, so I wanted to show him I don’t. I’m no good at this, and the plants don’t really like me. I’m the last person you want as a gardener, really.”

“If you change your mind -- any time,” she shrugged, and went about her errand.

Changqing and Xuan-er emerged from the forge even before she had reached the door; they were holding out the kittens and talking enthusiastically while they walked back towards the house and their dinner.

“Good job, Baiyi,” Changqing said vaguely as he passed Ye Baiyi on his perch; he reached up to clap him on the upper arm, then went inside with his family, plants and Baiyi already forgotten.-

[birbfeeder2artisticboogaloo]

realLY QUICK SKETCH OF RONGYE SMILING AT EACH OTHER LONGINGLY BC I'M SUPPOSED TO BE DOING SOMETHIING ELSE

bYE

[nancywheelxr]

i'm not sure if you prefer more specific prompts but if you have any interest, something canon-era (compliant or divergence) in the realm of "ye baiyi & every- or anyone"? whichever characters you wanna include; a moment or moments where he feels like maybe there is a little more to the rest of his life than duty and death. it's not only warm food he's been starved of for decades. your writing is great, i hope you're having a good day!

hi! thank you sm! i love getting prompts regardless, honestly, the only difference is that more specific ones tend to get done faster if only bc I already have a loose idea where to go with it! anyway, this somehow turned into a fix-it. that being said, I hope you’re having a lovely day too!

*

i.

They’re so painfully young.

A bird chirps in a tree somewhere nearby and around the fire, Qin Huaizhang’s disciple throws the blanket on the Wen brat’s face. What set off his sensibilities this time, Ye Baiyi doesn’t know, it might have been the perceived coddling, it might have simply been the fussing– either way, it’s pointless. Does he not know the brat will simply wait until he’s asleep to cover him? Does he not know their ridiculous dance around each other is nothing but time wasted?

How do the young ever get anything done?

Foolish. Have they ever been that foolish? Changqing, he knows, was a most ridiculous man with even more ridiculous ideas– who’s the bigger idiot, then, the fool or the one who loves him? 

“Ye-qianbei,” the boy appears at his side, wide-eyed like a newborn deer and with legs as shaky as one too, “if you’re cold, we have more blankets.”

The absurdity of the situation– to ask Ye Baiyi if he’s cold! What’s the night chill compared to the snowy grounds of his mountain? To him, is this not warm weather? “Little fool,” he says, shaking his head even as he laughs, “you’d do better worrying about your idiot master and his idiot friend.”

The kid looks across the fire, grimaces. “I don’t dare, I don’t dare! My brothers used to tell me not to get in the way when my parents were arguing!”

What a ridiculous child. Ye Baiyi laughs again. “They’re not arguing, they’re being dumb. Watch this,” he flicks a little rock at them, hitting Qin Huaizhang’s disciple in the forehead and earning an outraged glare from the Wen brat. “Qing Huaizhang’s disciple, your disciple is freezing off while you’re fooling around. Is this how you the two of you are going to raise your child?”

Beside him, the kid makes a startled little noise like a scared little rabbit before launching into a stuttering denial, but it’s too late, Qin Huaizhang’s disciple has already turned to focus on him as if smelling blood. “Chengling, are you cold? Why didn’t you say so?”

“Ah, no, no, I’m really not,” he tries, but he is, he wouldn’t have known to worry about others if he hadn’t been feeling the chill himself. “Ye-qianbei! Ye-qianbei–”

“Ah, ah!” Wen Kexing interrupts, shaking a finger in his direction, “why are you calling him? Come here, have this blanket since your Shifu is being stubborn.”

The boy goes obediently, shuffling around and nearly tripping on the log, and allows the Wen brat to wrap the blanket around his shoulders. Predictably, once he’s tucked in, the kid beams, pulling it tightly around himself. 

“Chengling, if you’re cold, you have to tell us,” says Qin Huaizhang’s disciple as if that’s a scolding, as if he’s not fussing over the child himself, stoking the fire and throwing in more kindling. 

A silly child with even sillier parents. Ye Baiyi snorts, shaking his head, and for a fleeting moment, he imagines walking this path alone– searching for the truth on his own, a silent forest stretching all the way to Longyuan Cabinet, only his footsteps left behind to prove he was even there at all– whatever. Picking up Qin Huaizhang’s dumb disciple and his dumb companions might not have been his worst decision so far. 

Maybe he could have found the place already if he were on his own, but at the very least they’re entertaining. Ridiculous, he thinks fondly, shaking his head at the blanket the kid has left folded at his feet.

*

ii.

What a mess.

Rong Xuan, you little brat, he thinks. How long has it been since the boy had first toddled up to him, little hands grabbing fistfuls of his robes? Too many, an eternity, and now nearly all of the boy’s friends are dead, all but one, and Ye Baiyi has to pay his respects to this freshly dug grave in his place. 

What a mess.

If you were in trouble, why didn’t you come back? Questions, questions, it’s too easy to ask them now. Why didn’t you ask for help? Why didn’t you send for us? Why did you think it would accomplish, running away? Stupid child, did you think we would turn you away? 

No, there’s no use asking them now, no point in dwelling in the past. What is there to change, after it already happened? Life is a very long road and the past is a land too distant to travel back to; Ye Baiyi would rather focus on the now.

Avenging their child had not been part of the promise he made to Changqing, but Ye Baiyi found the truth of this matter as he told him he would and the truth of it is that someone poisoned his disciple, his child. This cannot go unpunished, so for a while longer, he’ll live.

Further still, a little ways down, is Wen Kexing, whose parents died for Rong Xuan’s mistakes. A child growing up in a harsh world on his own. This debt, he’ll repay too.

For all that he gives his promises away like currency, Ye Baiyi is not sure how he feels about the piling of them– they stretch his finally numbered days, always pushing the deadline further. After the Heroes Conference, he’ll be done with the Ghost Valley. After he finds Rong Xuan’s murderer, he’ll be done with this mess. After he repays Wen Kexing, he will be at peace. 

And then–

Well. And then wine. Warm food. That was the plan, was it not? Heavens, he’s beginning to sound like Qin Huaizhang’s silly disciple, isn’t he? This won’t do. Changqing, even you would laugh at them. Tell me, then, if you were here, what would you do? Ah, something nonsensical, most likely, like go watch the plum trees bloom.

Ye Baiyi shakes his head, laughs. Changqing ah, won’t you tell me what to do? Maybe this time I’ll listen to you.

*

iii.

What kind of nonsense is this?

In all fairness, as much as his opinion of Wen Kexing has been as changing as the seasons, his uncanny ability to be an annoying nuisance has never flickered. He was annoying when he was staring down Ye Baiyi’s sword and he was annoying when he kneeled on the forest bed in apology and plea. 

Surely, it’s no surprise that he is annoying now, allegedly dead.

And yet, Ye Baiyi had not anticipated this level of stupidity from him: the brat did not tell Qin Huaizhang’s disciple of his plan.

Children, honestly. 

Now, the hem of his robes is wet and a few feet away, Qin Huaizhang’s disciple is wasting perfectly good wine in an unnecessarily dramatic manner. “Whatever stupid thing you’re planning,” Ye Baiyi says, eyeing the broken jar by the rocks, the dullness around the brat, “don’t.”

Zhou Zishu whirls on him with all the grace of a dying wet cat as if he’s in any condition to be fighting anyone, as if his hands weren’t shaking and his steps didn’t falter. The sword, once elegant and proud, wavers. Stupid boy. “Ye Baiyi, you–”

“Have you lost your manners down that jar? Or just your common sense? Put that away before I knock it off your hand myself,” he sighs, shaking his head. He should have stayed in his rooms, like planned, until the Heroes Conference; none of this has anything to do with him, his role in this play is mostly over, he just has to wait it out the intermission. And yet. “What kind of nonsense were you thinking? That fool, Wen Kexing, ran around for days like a headless chicken trying to save you and for what? You to throw it away?”

“What’s the point?” Qin Huaizhang’s disciple laughs, cold as the mountains, “what’s the point if he’s not here? Tell me, qianbei, why should I care to live if my soulmate is gone?”

His sword is dragging up the mud and Ye Baiyi wants to call him disrespectful for it, but the sight of it alone dredges up a well of grief that drowns the words in his throat. Why, indeed. This terrible emptiness, Ye Baiyi knows well– the hollow silence that comes where once a familiar voice called your name, the cold where once there was warmth, a hand never reaching back. Snow, all through summer and spring.

“Because that dumb disciple of yours will not last a day on his own,” he tells him, watching the water run towards the cliff’s edge, “because Qin Huaizhang has only you to pass on his legacy. Because that ridiculous hairpin on your head.”

“That’s not fair,” Qin Huaizhang’s disciple says, sounding exactly like he had been about to do something incredibly stupid earlier that would render this entire charade pointless from the start.

Truth be told, few things are, least of all, fate. Ah, but Ye Baiyi had unchanging decades to come to terms with that, perhaps he should spare the boy the heartache, unfounded as it is. “It’s not, but enough is enough. What are you crying for? Did you think it’s that easy to get rid of that pest? He should be ashamed if a little tumble is all it took.”

“Qianbei… you mean?”

Ye Baiyi heaves a pointedly tired sigh. “Yes, yes, the brat is alive. Probably holed up somewhere in that blasted valley of his.”

Qin Huaizhang’s disciple is as wide-eyed as his baby-deer disciple and if he actually starts crying, Ye Baiyi will drag Wen Kexing out of hiding kicking and screaming just to push him down the cliff again for making him witness this. He’s too old, he has little patience for the dramatics of the young, and he’s supposed to be drinking the best wine from the Yueyang area. 

So before he’s pulled even further into their nonsense, Ye Baiyi turns away, back to town and his quarters where he can drink and meditate in peace and really, Qin-xiaozi, your disciple is even sillier than you. 

At his back, he hears Zhou Zishu call, but his voice is lost to the waterfalls and Ye Baiyi makes no real effort to catch the words. What’s there to say? Pah, he’s already done more than his share on this, at no point did he promise to intervene on their pointless little dance. Once this is all over, that brat has better pay for all the wine in the land. And make those dumplings, too, for good measure.

*

iv.

Nobody told him whose wedding this is.

Considering they are in this thrice-damned place, he’s assuming it’s one of the ghosts, but Ye Baiyi figures the brat would be more annoying if it was his and Qin Huaizhang’s disciple’s. Then again, his own presence here is unfathomable, as is the insistence with which the little idiot had asked him to come. What on earth has Qin Huaizhang’s disciple told that child? Give someone an inch and they’ll take a mile, truly– now that boy is running around thinking Ye Baiyi cares about these lunatics.

“Who let him in!” Wen Kexing is screeching from somewhere, and Ye Baiyi mourns his peace as the brat approaches with his purple shadow trailing after. Had she been there this entire time? He squints. No, he would have noticed it, she’s very loud. “Old toad monster! Why are you still here? Who allowed you past the gates?”

“Who are you to tell me where to go?” He scoffs, flicking his sleeves as he crosses his arms. Nearby, a ghost hastily scurries away. “And it was your dumb disciple who begged me to be here. For what? Will there even be a banquet? And you call that decorations? That lantern is so crooked, it’s offensive!”

The purple child bristles. “Ah! And who does that silly boy think he is, inviting people to my wedding! Old man, you! Of course there’s gonna be food! Master and Luo-yi have been–”

“A-Xiang!” The brat cuts her off, closed fan tapping her forehead, as if everyone and their grandmothers don’t already know he’s been running around making preparations. What face is there to save, shameless as he is? If Ye Baiyi was a lesser man, he might have rolled his eyes. “Stop running your mouth, what is your husband going to say? And you! What crooked lantern? You’re going blind in your age!”

Still, even as he speaks, a pointed glare sends the ghosts scattering like mice, rushing to check on the decorations. Ridiculous. “No wonder the girl has no manners. What, you only know how to be polite when asking for something?”

Wen Kexing grumbles. “This one apologizes, qianbei.”

Well, that’s certainly worse. Unsettling. If even Wen Kexing starts being deferential, then what has the world come to? No, Ye Baiyi finds he’d prefer the brashness. Stupid child, what’s the point in changing his tune now? Pah. “Girl,” he says to that purple wisp of a thing, “your master is a pest. Where’s the wine?”

Baffling enough, the girl laughs, tugging at her master’s sleeves. “Master, master, Zishu-ge was right! You did make a friend!”

“What nonsense is this! Don’t you know when A-Xu is teasing? Friends! As if–”

“What rubbish have you been filling these children’s heads with?” He shakes a threatening finger in their direction. Not that it matters, considering the girl has already stepped back, giggling as she sidesteps Wen Kexing’s fan. 

Leaving them to their childishness, Ye Baiyi slips out of the crowd, picking a jar of wine as he goes. The alcohol is good, burning down his throat, and he hadn’t thought he’d step foot in the Ghost Valley, not like this. Something in him will always recoil at this place, always lay the blame at the valley’s mouth, a yawning jaw that’s swallowed whole the people most precious to him with no mercy. 

And yet, Changqing ah, you bastard, look at it. They’re holding a damned wedding, and here Ye Baiyi is, drinking their wine. Are you happy now? Did you become a bodhisattva yet? Fate makes fools of them all, there’s no way around it. He pours the wine over the rocks, lets it spill and run like blood. Xuan’er, did I not tell you not to climb so high? That shifu wouldn’t always be there to catch you if you slip on the ice? Ye Baiyi laughs at the memory– always clear in his mind, suspended in time, unfading, even if his sight blurs with tears– that boy, always scaring them half to death, climbing up the frozen mountainside as a child, then crying in fright once he looked down. 

“Look at the mess you’ve both left me,” he says out loud, downing the rest of the wine, and the silence is never quite as loud as in the hollow space where another would speak. For so long, Ye Baiyi knew to leave room for Changqing’s teasing, for their child’s incessant questions, even Rong-furen’s tired voice. Then, nothing. “What do you have to say for yourself, hm? Typical. I’ll drink for all of us this time, then, how about it? Changqing, I’m keeping my promises, so you’d better keep yours or I’ll–” 

The jar breaks where it falls from his fingers and he shakes his head as if dispelling the murky thoughts from his head. Perhaps, coming here was a mistake. The ashes have already been sent back to Changming, so what business does he have in this place? To see it closed with his own eyes? Besides, a wedding or two, a handful of people, are not worth the bloodshed creating the valley has brought, no matter what Changqing might say. 

Is this a comforting story to be told later, if– by the bridge, in case– 

His thoughts grind to a halt, veering off suddenly into attention to his surroundings. Someone is coming. Indeed, from his place near the entrance, Ye Baiyi can see in the distance a mob climbing up the path, silent as thieves in the night, with only a blue streak of disciples in plain sight at the front.

So much for avoiding bloodshed. Did they even wait for the dust to settle after the monks left town? And what kind of harebrained scheme is this? Has this generation been born with no brains? Such a reckless, petty move! No honor, agreeing to something and then plunging the knife behind their backs. 

There is little time to curse their dishonesty, though, with their numbers fast approaching, so Ye Baiyi swipes a last look at the desolate landscape and slips back inside to sound the alarms. After all, heaven knows that little purple girl will be terribly loud if she doesn’t get her wedding, and Ye Baiyi is not looking forward to remembering what headaches feel like. Honestly, if these people would stop nearly dying for five fucking minutes–

*

v.

Today, the mirror showed a new patch of white hair, faint lines at the corner of his eyes. 

Time, it seems, is catching up to him.

It’s exhilarating.

The plum trees have already lost their blossoms, winter gone as swiftly as it came, the cold melting to the lingering warmth of spring. Today, he walks past blooming azaleas, purple and red radiant against the blue backdrop of the sky.

It brings him to little Qin Huaizhang standing beside Rong Xuan, trying so very hard to impress his friend’s seniors with all the desperation of youth. The poetry he had waxed about his sect’s gardens– Four Seasons Manor, blooming all year round! Ye Baiyi had found him so silly, blabbering while Rong Xuan beamed, so quick to pick the fights Rong Xuan dropped. 

At the time, had he not thought history was repeating itself, if kinder? The Baiyi sword, gifted with the promise to keep his dumb disciple out of trouble? He still remembers Changqing’s face, the hypocrite. So exchanging swords for cursed books is fine, but anything else and you draw the line? At least promises were as reliable as the person making them. 

Now, he has to admit, the silly boy had not been wrong– Four Seasons Manor stands in more color than Ye Baiyi had thought possible. If he’ll have time to witness all its blooms, he doesn’t know, but this spring, he’s here, and isn’t that enough?

At the gates, the young disciple lets him in without a word, bowing respectfully like his seniors have never done. Good. At the very least, those two good-for-nothing brats had the decency to forewarn their juniors of his arrival. How long has it been since Qin Huaizhang’s disciple woke up from the procedure? Aiyah, Ye Baiyi can’t remember, he had been traveling south at the time. 

Well, it’s long enough to be past the need for coddling, that’s for sure. “Qin Huaizhang’s disciple, what kind of Sect Leader are you that you won’t come greet your esteemed guest?”

“Not really a Sect Leader,” comes the voice from his left as Zhou Zishu rounds into view, his silly disciple trailing faithfully after him. He looks better now, death no longer draped over his shoulders like a shroud, smiling like he found peace somewhere in the months since that disastrous wedding. “Qianbei, this one is honored to welcome you to our house. You’ve come at a good time, A-Xiang is visiting with her husband too.”

“Who’s an esteemed guest here? All I’m hearing is a bunch of freeloaders!” says Wen Kexing from somewhere inside the building, just as loud and brash as always, and following his words, the thundering footsteps of children. 

Ye Baiyi snorts, shakes his head. Changqing ah, wait a little while longer, will you? I’m on my way, but I have some places to visit first. Meet me by the bridge, I’ll tell you all about it in a bit.