Chapter Text
Xue Meng stands in the dirt to the left of a patch of iced over snow. The Darling of the Heavens keeps his eyes aimed upwards towards the sky, the sun glaring down at him. Longchen rests at his hip, heavy from the number of times he's suddenly reached for it and let it go.
Above him, on a ledge, sits Mei HanXue. He too scours the sky but also studies the ground from his high vantage point. He can keep his eyes on his brother a short ways down the mountain resetting the wards that would notify them if anyone were to approach.
The trio have been here for two days already. They got here early not wanting to be ambushed by Taxian-jun and his forces. They needed to establish their escape plan when this turns out to be a plot to kill Xue Meng. And they needed to establish backups when Taxian-jun inevitably plots their escape route before they even make their first move.
“Are you sure?” Mei HanXue says. “We can go invisible.”
“Dumb dog probably figured out some way to curse his eyes and see invisible people,” Xue Meng snorts. “In a sichen you two are falling back.”
Mei HanXue makes a sound of disagreement but doesn't protest. The fact Xue Meng even came and told them rather than slipping away in the dead of night is a shock.
Of course, it's not hard to know why he came to tell them. Why coming back here might be hard. Xue Meng stands no far from the scar on the earth where Chu Wanning exploded his core, sending a force of energy outwards breaking Taxian-jun’s array over at least a thousand chess pieces and giving those people their minds back while sacrificing himself. It’s the fight of the most decisive battle. It’s the site of Xue Meng’s greatest loss. The greatest blight on his soul.
Mei Hanxue returns from below. His fingertips are red from cold and he rubs them together to warm them.
“Wards are back up,” he calls up. Above his brother gives a nod. Xue Meng gives no reaction and keeps staring up at the sky. Mei Hanxue speeds up into a jog until he's right next to Xue Meng with a cold hand on his shoulder.
“You okay?”
“Fine.”
“You remember the plan?” He asks.
“Do you think I'm stupid enough to forget it already?” Xue Meng clips back.
Above Mei HanXue heaves a weary sigh but leaves the conversation to his younger brother.
“No, Ziming. But I think you want Chu-zongshi back and might make irrational decisions because of it.”
Xue Meng’s stoic expression sours.
“You didn't see what he did to him.”
Mei Hanxue gives his shoulder a sympathetic squeeze meant to show they know and they're on his side no matter what.
“Fuck off,” Xue Meng hisses. “You know what? You two leave right now. Who knows when he wants to show up. Get out of here.”
“Mengmeng,” the young brother protests.
“We’re not leaving until we're certain, Ziming,” the older says.
“Go away!” Xue Meng yells and stomps his foot. It’s a childish display but he’s overwhelmed with so many emotions he feels like a frantic child again.
The two brothers share a wordless conversation and take their retreat. They don't go as far as they agreed, but far enough away that Xue Meng can't see them.
Xue Meng stands alone on that scar on the earth and draws his sword.
“Hurry up you bastard!!” Xue Meng screams into the skies. His heart races all too fast. He doesn't know what to expect.
He expects Taxian-jun to come. That's what he expects.
He doesn't expect to wait for hours for the emperor. He doesn't expect darkness to cloud over him before the emperor arrives. He doesn't expect the Meis to return when he can't stop shivering, wrapping him in a blanket and starting a small campfire because they know he won't leave yet. He doesn't expect for the day in the letter to drag on into two days and three and suddenly he's been camping on that most painful loss for an entire week.
Finally the older Mei sits next to him in front of the fire watching his brother cook a grouse.
“He's not coming. We should go back,” he says bluntly.
“I know,” Xue Meng concedes. He makes no movement.
“I got a letter asking we come back. They're getting overwhelmed without us.”
Xue Meng is silent. Silence from a man with his temper is far more terrifying than a brash outburst.
“Ziming? Do you have thoughts?”
The younger brother looks up studying Xue Meng closely.
Xue Meng buries his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes.
“I know,” he concedes again.
“We're not leaving without you.”
“I fucking know that! Okay!? So stop reminding me that you're fucking better than me!”
The twins look to each other in sadness that they accidentally prodded Xue Meng’s reverse scale trying to reassure him. The guilt over leaving Chu Wanning in Wushan Palace has silently eaten away at him like a cancer. They both fall silent, unsure of what they can say without making it worse.
“Fuck.” Xue Meng exhales through his hands hiding his face. He stands and walks away from the fire so the warm glow only touches his back.
“FUCK!” he shouts loudly. His voice echoes back to them.
There's nothing they can do to reassure him. There is no reassurance that they can offer. All they can do is return to Taxue Palace, resume their defenses against the Zhenglong Chess Formation and try to plan another siege, a better siege, on the palace to get Chu Wanning and the princess out.
Chu Wanning sits in the confines of a wheelchair he didn't want but Mo Ran insisted he'd need for the day's travels. He would never say it out loud because he hates being stuck in it and captive under Mo Ran’s control, but perhaps Mo Ran was right. This way he can keep up and hold A-Xing who is sound asleep on his lap without Mo Ran getting irritated or tearing his healing wounds.
For the most part, Mo Ran pushes him with care although making rude, infantilizing comments about how Chu Wanning wouldn't be able to walk this slope or that step would be too big. Occasionally Mo Ran lurches him or halts abruptly for his own amusement but when little star wakes and cries he stops. Now he calmly pushes Chu Wanning through a bright forest lined with flowers. A narrow path made of a spiritual energy cuts through the flowers so the ride is smooth and even. Chu Wanning cradles A-Xing close appreciating the rare moment in which everyone is happy.
“And here is where this venerable one caught two demons,” Mo Ran says, continuing his recounting of the Spiritual Mountain Competition. He's already spent plenty of time ranting in complaining that he only participated in the singles event seeing as Xue Meng claimed Shi Mei as his partner. Because Mo Ran wouldn't work with anyone else, he left in a rage after the first event.
Chu Wanning didn't tell him then because he didn't want Mo Ran’s pride to merge with his arrogance and he won't tell him now either, but he still believes Mo Ran could have beaten Nangong Si and Ye Wangxi had he put his mind and heart to it. Mo Ran has always had a surprising amount of raw power. It's always been a matter of how he uses it. In the end, he's glad Mo Ran pulled out of the competition. It might have soured his relationship with Xue Meng faster if Xue Meng’s jealousy came into play had Mo Ran won. At least this way, the two boys hold a few positive memories from those years leading up to the Heavenly Rift. As proven by Mo Ran talking about disemboweling one of the demons in hunt of a spirit stone to see Xue Meng struggle and running over to help.
Mo Ran laughs recalling Xue Meng red faced and struggling, bitching at Mo Ran to get away from him, “because he thought this venerable one was trying to take his kill. You should have seen it, Wanning. He was laying on his side and kept trying to kick me to make me get back. And you should have seen his face when this venerable one pinned the beast down for him to kill. Ha! He looked like I was the demon and he had to kill me. He was shaking like a little girl.”
Mo Ran laughs loudly enough that the birds fly away through the trees.
“And then when this venerable one told him to kill it he got mad and started yelling that he didn't need a pity kill. What a loser. Maybe he would have actually won if he accepted help.”
Mo Ran snorts and admires the speckled sun on the path his spiritual energy forms.
“What did you do during the competition, baobei?”
“Watch.”
“Who? Xue Meng?”
“All of you.”
Mo Ran is unusually silent pushing Chu Wanning forward. They're near a babbling brooke. Ahead the path cuts over the stream.
“Even me?”
“Yes.”
Mo Ran clicks his tongue. “Prove it.”
“How am I supposed to prove something from twenty years ago?”
Mo Ran pauses pushing the chair to reach around, pulling up any fabric that overhangs the edge to ensure that none brush over the water of the stream. Chu Wanning studies the way the glare of the sun dances over the water.
“I saw you slip your spirit stones to Shi Mingjing,” Chu Wanning says.
“You saw me cheat?” Mo Ran gasps.
“Mn.”
“But you didn't tell the organizers? I wasn't disqualified. Neither was Shi Mei.”
At the time he didn't tell them only because he didn't have time before Mo Ran learned that Shi Mei and Xue Meng would team up in doubles. It was at the very end of the round when all the participants were returning. Chu Wanning was pacing over the sky bridge above his disciples when he saw Mo Ran make the offer and Shi Mei refuse. He watched in horror as Mo Ran snuck them into Shi Mei’s bag with the ease that a pickpocket might take coins. Rage flared in Chu Wanning and he stormed back to tell, but by that point Xue Meng had jogged up and called Shi Mei his partner, setting Mo Ran off and attacking Xue Meng in the middle of the field. Even without telling the organizers, Chu Wanning would have punished Mo Ran himself except he vanished for nearly two weeks after that. By the time he returned, more pressing matters chased the momentary rage from his mind. Mo Ran had lost and so had Shi Mei, so in the end the cheating amounted to nothing. Mo Ran was already so irritable that Chu Wanning chose to pretend he saw nothing in the hopes that their relationship might not grow even more strained.
He doesn't say this though. He keeps quiet, accepting the risk of waiting to see what conclusions Mo Ran jumps to by himself.
Seemingly in a good mood, Mo Ran gives Chu Wanning a kiss on the temple and leans over his shoulder to brush his finger against A-Xing’s round cheek.
“We can stop here a little while,” Mo Ran says. “The surprise probably won't arrive for a while. Do you want to get up at all?”
“She's sleeping,” Chu Wanning replies in answer. Mo Ran seems to accept it because he plops down next to the wheelchair. He reaches up to hold her socked toes.
“Wanning, can I ask you something?”
The question sounds heartfelt but leaves Chu Wanning wary. Mo Ran presses on anyways.
“Why didn't you teach us archery? That really was why Xue Meng lost. He couldn't make any ranged attacks. He had to get close to everything and waste time. Even if it's not your favorite, you had Tianwen. We just had our swords. Didn't you think you were leaving an important gap in our education? Especially since we were going up against Nangong Si. Or whichever of the blonde fucks that plays music.”
Chu Wanning adjusts A-Xing's baby coat, brushing out all the folds.
The simple answer would be that no cultivator needs to reach perfection in everything. That would be following a path to ascension rather than serving the people. That while Chu Wanning holds himself to that standard, he didn’t quite hold even his disciples to the same. The complicated answer is that he hasn't touched a bow since the day before Rong Yan died and he stood with Nangong Si at archery practice, instructing the little boy's aim and channeling spiritual energy into the arrow to make it arch around curves.
“I tried to teach you three music, but it wasn't any of your strong suits so it was better to focus on what you excelled at.”
“Why? Wouldn't it make more sense to vary our techniques? Especially since the others didn't have spiritual weapons to lock them into one combat style?”
“You and Shi Mingjing began cultivating late. Forcing you both to diversify your skills too much would come at cost in comparison to others in your generation. And Xue Ziming was very clear he only liked the sword.”
Mo Ran’s face pinches in thought. “I guess we did have to catch up…” he says thoughtfully. It's surprising he isn't mad that Chu Wanning cheated him by not teaching him archery.
Suddenly Mo Ran looks up at him with bright eyes.
“You don't need any spiritual energy for archery! Do you think you still have it, Wanning?”
“I don't,” Chu Wanning replies bluntly. He doesn't want to see another arrow in his life. Between memories of Nangong Si, of the war and of pulling the arrow out of Mo Ran only to have a sword plunge through him in return, he would prefer to never see any arrows again.
“I don't believe you,” Mo Ran replies. He wiggles little star's toes with a grin. “As soon as we get home, we're having an archery competition. You, me. Liu-gong. Chunyue. And winner… winner gets to… winner gets to sit back and relax while everyone else has to clean the pavilion.”
Chu Wanning makes no reply.
Mo Ran rolls up onto his knees. He takes Chu Wanning’s hand and draws it to his lips, smiling at how Chu Wanning tenses. “Please, baobei. Just one round.” He lowers his voice suggestively.
“Or would you rather take my sword.”
Chu Wanning grunts and Mo Ran takes it as agreement to hold a small archery competition. He presses his lips to the inner skin of Chu Wanning’s wrist, looking up at him with big puppy eyes. When he releases him, he flops back so his head dangles off the floating path and his long hair sprawls amongst the flowers.
“Do you think stars sleep during the day?” Mo Ran asks. “Or are they still there and we can't see them?”
“They're there,” Chu Wanning says. He stops fussing with the baby because she shifts and her eyes flutter threatening to wake. It’s almost as if Mo Ran’s question about the stars summoned her eyes to open thinking he’s talking about her.
“Like how sometimes you can see the moon and the sun together?”
“Mn.”
Mo Ran sighs and reaches over his dangling head to pick a flower and study it. “I like the days when you can see them both. It feels special. Do you know why you can see them both sometimes?”
“No.”
“I thought you're supposed to know everything. What if one of us poor disciples wanted to study the cosmos?”
“Then I would have studied them too.”
Mo Ran rips a petal from the flower and tosses it onto the ground behind his head. It lands on his hair.
“Even if it was me?”
“I would have.”
“Yeah. Sure.” Mo Ran chuckles and picks another flower and carefully dissects it. “Have you ever been stung by a bee?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
A-Xing begins to fuss. Chu Wanning tries to calm her down without Mo Ran noticing. He turns her so the dappled sun isn't aimed right at her face.
“When I was young.”
“How young?”
“I don't know. Why are you asking all these questions?”
Mo Ran crushes the flower in his fist and Chu Wanning realizes his mistake. Quickly he says, “When I was seven or eight. In the spring the bees seemed to like me a lot and were always around when I was in the garden. I was working barefoot and I accidentally stepped on one.”
“Did it hurt?”
“Not much.”
It hurt a lot and made him cry back then, but now when he thinks back to the pain it feels so trivial. A nothing. A prick less than a needle.
Mo Ran laughs. “I heard some people swell up if they're stung by bees and then they look really stupid. Did you?”
“No.”
“Pity.”
A butterfly drifts through the trees above the flowers.
“I've been stung by a bunch of bees.” Mo Ran waits for Chu Wanning to ask but he doesn't so he presses on anyways. “When this venerable one was little there was a farmer who grew bees and he needed help harvesting honey so he'd let me go around waving this big smokey orb and after I'd get a whole jar to take back with me. Mama and I would just sit there in the evenings eating honey by the fistful. But one time I tripped and hundreds of millions of bees attacked me.”
Chu Wanning doesn't know what to say.
“He didn't even try to help. But then I stood up and commanded the bees to attack him and they did and he ran around screaming for mercy.”
Mo Ran’s grin says he's drifted into the part of story telling where he's just making stuff up for his own amusement, telling versions of stories he wishes where true. It’s more likely Mo Ran laid there in pain until the bees left and then dragged his swollen body away until his mom could find him and pick the stingers out one by one. Chu Wanning says nothing of it. He lets Mo Ran finish his story about turning the bees against his enemies.
As soon as the story is over Mo Ran says, “Are you excited for your surprise, Wanning?” He grabs a fistful of flowers and tosses them into the air to watch them fall over himself like snow. There's a smile on his face that Mo Ran probably isn't even aware of. It's light and easy, natural. Dimpled. One that makes Chu Wanning’s heart soft even as it skips a bear remembering the surprise they're here for.
“I don't know what it is.”
“That's what makes it a surprise, dummy.”
Little star truly begins to fuss. Chu Wanning starts lightly bouncing her. He stopped taking the medicines that barred him from feeding her but he doesn't want to feed her yet without throwing off their whole day’s feeding schedule. “I'm not excited for something that I don't know what it is.”
Mo Ran rolls to look at him. “You must hate surprises then.”
Chu Wanning shoots him a sharp look calling him stupid for not already knowing that. How could he not hate them? Even if he were to exclude the torture presented under the title of ‘gift’ or ‘surprise,’ Chu Wanning has never liked feeling unprepared. It’s not as though surprises have ever meant gifts like he would see disciples exchange. Surprises have never been pleasant. Surprises have always been a bad thing. An unexpected danger.
“You’ll like this one,” Mo Ran assures and lays back down. He raises a hand to block the sun from his eyes. “This is a good one.”
There is no reason to argue or express his disbelief. He readjusts A-Xing so she’s facing outwards. Even if it doesn’t help her wiggling, it at least will stop her from gumming a wet spot on his robes to make it look like his chest is leaking again. There’s already a dark spot from where she’s sucked against the fabric.
“What’s the best day you can remember?” Mo Ran asks abruptly changing the subject again. He waves his hand in the air and quickly follows up saying, “Yes, yes. You’re such a miserable log of a man that you’ve never been happy in your life. This venerable one already knows. Do you want to know mine?”
A-Xing squeals and Mo Ran squeals back in mimicry.
“The wontons,” Mo Ran says. “When Shi Mei brought me those wontons and he promised we'd always be family. It doesn't matter that you whipped me. I'd have even forgiven you if you apologized after that. I’d have thanked you for giving him reason to come visit me. Because suddenly I wasn't alone. Suddenly I had a family again. And those spicy wontons. I’d give up my throne to eat wontons he made one more time... Do you know how to make wontons? You've tried before, haven't you?”
“No.”
“You should. For little star. I bet when she starts eating she'll like them. This venerable one will show you how to make them. But the first ones you should make… Or we can make together…”
Mo Ran twists his fingers through the air and both of them watch spiritual energy flow from them with ease, leaving small trails like smoke hanging in the air from a freshly blown candle. “I don't know why but I like food you make. Even if it's absolute dog shit. Maybe it's because it proves you're not good at everything. Not so high and mighty. Imagine a god that can’t cook. It’d be a useless god.” Mo Ran laughs. He throws his hands up and more butterflies of spiritual energy expels from his open palms. They flutter around them. Through the trees. Kissing the flowers. The entire clearing is filled with softly glowing butterflies joining the few real ones.
“This venerable one is in a good mood for some reason,” Mo Ran says suddenly. He tilts his head up just in time to see the smile flicker over Chu Wanning’s face hearing that Mo Ran is happy. Instantly he gasps loudly and sits up at full speed.
“You smiled!” he shouts pointing at Chu Wanning and then gasps again, crawling on his hands and knees to A-Xing who gives Mo Ran a gummy smile recognizing her baba. “And you smiled!! Oh everyone's smiling, aren't we!?” He scoops little star from Chu Wanning’s laps and holds her close rocking her back and forth smiling at her. “You're such a happy little baby. Was it the thought of wontons? Do they make you happy too?”
A-Xing squeals again and Mo Ran mimics her again. She coos and flaps her arms and Mo Ran squeaks back. They exchange more and more absurd noises while Chu Wanning watches on. Finally Mo Ran twists around to aim the baby at him.
“Your turn,” he says expectantly.
Suddenly with a baby aimed at him Chu Wanning has no clue the noises babies make. Any and all would be undignified. And Mo Ran will mock him. What little pride and warmth he's felt for the day will be gone.
Mo Ran makes a roaring squeal to keep A-Xing's attention on the game and gives Chu Wanning an expectant grin.
Chu Wanning is frozen.
“Wanning,” Mo Ran implores. Not a growl, a begging invitation to join the silly game.
Chu Wanning opens his mouth and Mo Ran instantly laughs exclaiming, “You sound like a dying cat!”
Chu Wanning turns bright red, the heat of embarrassment and shame at letting himself be lured into the little game. But Mo Ran doesn't let him roll away. He jumps up and plants a kiss on Chu Wanning’s lips with a smile and says, “That was cute, baobei. Good job.”
A new heat rises in his cheeks. Mo Ran sees it and kisses the tip of his nose teasing, “Cute.”
Suddenly Mo Ran spins around with the baby and hops off the path with a skip. He spins through the flowers breaking into song. An old song Chu Wanning used to hear when he lived in Linyi. One that isn't popular at all in Sichuan and hasn't been popular anywhere in decades. Mo Ran spins and bounces and sings to his baby as he weaves through the dappled light over the patch of flowers on the forest floor. He grins large and flicks his fingers, surrounding himself in glowing butterflies that capture A-Xing's attention in totality. She reaches for one and it bumps against her little fist.
Mo Ran keeps dancing in small circles with her. He alternates between singing and humming when he forgets the words. Every so often he looks up at Chu Wanning in his wheelchair bound to the path of spiritual energy and for a flash of a second Chu Wanning sees another life in which he would run through the flowers to join them. He wouldn't dance, but Mo Ran would wrap his arm around his waist and sway with him.
He shakes his head of the thought. Another life without the flower would not grant him Mo Ran. He would still stand at a distance if he were to be present at all. There is no use day dreaming or imagining something happier. Something less real when this is perhaps the happiest moment they'll ever find together.
The thought and grief grips Chu Wanning’s chest. Even in his happiest visions, he has no place in them. His only role in Mo Ran’s life is to guide and protect. He failed so he is here, doing too little too late.
Still dancing around, Mo Ran catches sight of Chu Wanning alone on the path again, separate from his family. In a single great leap, Mo Ran jumps over the flowers onto the barrier path.
“You don't get to sit around like a sour-puss. Not when xiao Xingxing and this venerable one are having fun, ” he says and shoves the chair forward off the path. It jolts and slams hard into the ground. Chu Wanning sways as the chair is pushed into the middle of the flowers. Mo Ran places him so he’s backlit by the sun, glowing just like the butterflies.
He bows playfully to Chu Wanning, picking a flower and holding it out to Chu Wanning while clutching A-Xing close to his own chest.
“As the venerated bard, son of the famed songstress Duan Yihan, disciple of Xun Fengrou, this venerable one has a poem for you,” Mo Ran announces like a ringmaster introducing himself to his crowd. He cleans his throat dramatically and waits expectantly for Chu Wanning to take the flower. After several beats too long, Chu Wanning reaches for it and takes it, allowing Mo Ran to begin his performance. Mo Ran watches him carefully as he tucks his hand into his lap, holding the flower in his palm without crushing it. He clears his throat again, pleased that the flower wasn’t crushed or tossed aside.
“There once was a big handsome cock,
who had a fertile hen in his flock.
The hen was lousy,
unsexy and drowsy.
But still that cock was so good she bawks.”
Mo Ran grins proudly at Chu Wanning who stares back at him without showing a hint of emotion. Perhaps a little annoyance creeps over his face because Mo Ran’s mischievous grin grows. He got what he wanted in the faint annoyed acknowledgement of his composition.
Suddenly Mo Ran is dancing circles around Chu Wanning in his chair again. He rocks A-Xing this way and that, careful but carefree.
“There once was a precious little star,
who was the brightest of… them are.
She was cute,
that is absolute.
She’s my light, my love, my har….t.”
Mo Ran glances in Chu Wanning’s direction to see if he’ll admonish him for the failed rhyme but Chu Wanning makes no indication he noticed Mo Ran’s attempt to rhyme star with heart. In the past, when Mo Ran was his disciple and they would recite or compose poetry Chu Wanning would admonish him for his poor, low-brow abilities. But now, oddly, Chu Wanning almost feels it’s cute that Mo Ran is even trying. And while the poem about his cock Chu Wanning could do without hearing ever again, he memorizes the second poem to recite to A-Xing in their quiet moments.
Relieved that his bright moment basking under A-Xing’s light has not been diminished, Mo Ran resumes lightly moving through the flowers with his baby, singing to her and tugging on Chu Wanning until he’s made to stand with them. Mo Ran holds his hand and sways it back and forth in mimicry of dancing together until finally A-Xing has had more than enough and begins sobbing. Only then does Mo Ran let Chu Wanning take her and hobble back to the path while Mo Ran carries the heavy wheelchair. He lets Chu Wanning sit again and cradle their bright star as he pushes him along the winding path through the woods.
Finally they break out of the trees to where the main grounds of the Spiritual Mountain Competition was traditionally held. Decaying and run down, many of the structures are still in place. The old archery range, still lined with faded targets and practice arrows. The buildings containing demons to be released, all broken down that any still held have long escaped. The platform from which announcements were made, the opening ceremonies performed and the winners podiumed. Even the old buildings for sects to stay in remain. The ten great sects still have their villas beautifully marked out. A few fringe sects also have small villas and pavilions labeled, although many are only faded signs pointing down paths to less venerated locations. Chu Wanning’s eyes immediately fall on the faded sign pointed in the direction of Sisheng Peak’s courtyard. By the time everything came crashing down, they had only just earned a permanent spot at the Spiritual Mountain Competition half a decade before it was over and thus earned their simple but permanent place to stay.
Mo Ran rolls him past the sign for Sisheng Peak. He pushes him along the winding river, now reduced to merely a stream without cultivators encouraging its growth to test swimming, controlling the waves and fights against water demons. The banks have filled in with reeds and lilies that don’t need more than a steady flow of water even if small. Finally they reach the announcement platform. Mo Ran pushes Chu Wanning up onto it. He fusses with the chiffon shade cloths he brought to drape over the extravagant structure to block the bright sun. It takes Mo Ran an incense time of climbing all over the groaning structure to get the chiffon draped just how he wants it. The light layers dance with the breeze just like the swaying of the reeds in the streambed. Finally, when Mo Ran is done he jumps down and lands hard on his feet.
“Now we wait,” he says decisively. Chu Wanning wants to ask what they wait for but he’s scared to push the surprise knowing how poorly surprises have gone in the past.
They wait for a long time. The sun arcs high and begins to descend, but still there is no surprise. As evening falls and the trees’ flowers begin to illuminate to shine light over the meeting grounds, Mo Ran grows irritable pacing back and forth in frustration. He doesn’t sit down when Huang Chunyue and Liu-gong arrive on horseback with food for them to eat, laying a feast enough for a dozen people on the ancient table. He only snaps at Chu Wanning to eat while Huang Chunyue holds the baby.
Finally, once dark has settled, Mo Ran grabs the puppy and carries her off into the darkness with an aura of anger radiating from him. Chu Wanning watches his dark robes vanish worried for the puppy, for those around him, and himself should this surprise fail to manifest.
After a very long time and cold night air settles, a barrier path springs into existence from the platform leading into the darkness. Chu Wanning stares at it, as does Liu-gong. The old man pushes himself up from the table and takes the handles of Chu Wanning’s wheelchair. Chu Wanning wants desperately to grab the wheels and stop himself from being taken into the darkness but he resists the desperate urge. No matter what is at the end of the path, he’s faced worse.
Still, with Liu-gong slowly pushing him and no one in front of him, Chu Wanning closes his eyes and balls his fists in his robes not wanting to face what comes. He is scared. His heart proves it as it thuds painfully against his chest.
His hands shake so he squeezes them tighter. Tight enough that his nails dig into the flesh of his hands. He could get up and run. He wants to. He’s certain that he can move faster than Liu-gong. He knows the area, or at least has a faint memory of it. He knows where the hunting grounds are and where there are hiding spots meant for ambushes or for prey to tuck themselves small. But the question is, if he is the prey, can he escape Taxian-jun? Can he escape him in the dark, when Chu Wanning is blinded but Mo Ran can summon lights?
Can he abandon A-Xing even if he could get away?
Can he abandon Mo Ran now he knows what happened? How he might fix it?
He can’t. The grief that he can’t make himself stumble out of the wheelchair and into the darkness hurts more than if he had and Mo Ran caught him.
They follow the path Mo Ran summoned. He’s pushed to the small courtyard with the faded label ‘Sisheng Peak, lower cultivation world’ labeling the entrance. Inside everything is dusty, as abandoned as the competition grounds. Moreso, because when it was discovered that Mo Ran was the rogue cultivator attacking Rufeng, Sisheng Peak was blamed and stripped from their position in the cultivation world. They were barred from the Spiritual Mountain Competition, not that it mattered anymore.
Although it might be dusty, inside is familiar. There’s space enough for twenty people to exist comfortably, thirty if they pack in like they did. Liu-gong begins checking the cabinets for linens while Chu Wanning lights the lanterns. He stops at the window looking out at an old stone bench next to the high wall. It’s lit by an old stone lantern, the glowing pearl inside dimmed and barely illuminating the bench. He sat there with Xue Meng after his loss. Chu Wanning didn’t do well comforting Xue Meng with Shi Mei sitting in the grass next to them. Back then he was even annoyed that Xue Meng lacked the grace to understand that second place is still impressive. Now he wishes he wrapped his arms around his disciple and told him that although it hurt, his effort was enough. Now he wishes he told Xue Meng he was proud of him no matter what. Now he wishes…
He has a lot of wishes. A lot of regrets.
Was this what Mo Ran brought him here for? To remember the past? A small, subtle torture disguised as a pleasant surprise? If it was, it’s working. Chu Wanning’s heart hurts and he turns away from the window and the ghost of sitting through the long hours of the night with Xue Meng and Shi Mei.
He sits on the bed before it’s made. A plume of dust rises with his weight.
“It isn’t ready yet, Chu-zongshi,” Liu-gong says approaching with an armful of linens that surely smell like dust and mothballs. Slowly, Chu Wanning rises. Liu-gong apologizes as he passes but Chu Wanning makes no acknowledgement of it. He moves through the building into some of the back rooms, stopping at the room where Xue Zhengyong stayed. He hesitates at the door before pushing it open and stepping inside.
For a second he hopes that there would still be some of his old friend’s things here, but the room is empty. There is no sign of the man, just like there are no more signs of him in the throne room, in what should be Loyalty Hall. Xue Zhengyong is gone, wiped from this world even in memory.
Chu Wanning sits heavily on the bed, surrounded once again by a plume of dust that makes him cough.
He misses Xue Zhengyong. He doesn’t often let himself admit it. It’s hard to face. It’s somehow harder to face than pretending he had no companions or friends. When Xue Zhengyong was alive he failed to realize that the man was first a mentor then a friend. Now he knows he was both, something Chu Wanning needed desperately and found by accident. He wants to tell him that now but there is no way to.
He lets himself fall sideways and close his eyes, ignoring the way they burn. There is no use for tears. The only use for tears is Mo Ran’s amusement and his own humiliation. Understanding that he lost his only friend is not a humiliation even if it hurts.
Liu-gong calls to him, telling him he can return to the freshly made bed, but Chu Wanning doesn’t move. By the time Liu-gong finds him, he’s able to pretend he’s asleep. A blanket is draped over him and Liu-gong leaves. Through the cracked open door he can hear Liu-gong and Huang Chunyue talking in low voices. Talking about if they should wake him to take his medicine or let him sleep. A familiar sound by now.
At some point he hears the bark of a puppy and Mo Ran’s voice. He’s returned from the darkness in search of the surprise.
“Where is he?” Mo Ran’s voice asks.
“The back bedroom, your highness,” Liu-gong replies. “He fell asleep as soon as we got in.”
Mo Ran doesn’t reply but heavy footsteps move towards the room Chu Wanning lays in. His entire body tenses. Waiting. Anticipating. Worried that Mo Ran found the surprise and scared that he didn’t.
There’s the sound of Mo Ran throwing his cloak aside and kicking off his boots. The bed groans when Mo Ran lays down next to him and pulls him in close.
“The surprise… it’s ruined,” Mo Ran murmurs. “I’m sorry. I really wanted…. I tried, Wanning. I really tried.”
Chu Wanning focuses on pretending to be asleep until he feels Mo Ran shaking in emotion. He lays there, wary of it being a trap until he feels the genuine disappointment seeping from Mo Ran into himself. He remembers their trip to visit Duan Yihan and wonders if there was something else so important to him.
Carefully, Chu Wanning rolls over in the bed so his face is buried against Mo Ran’s chest.
“Maybe it’s okay,” he says quietly. “Maybe it’s for the best.”
Mo Ran squeezes him tightly. “Probably. But… I don’t understand why he didn’t come.”
Chu Wanning doesn’t dare ask who or what they were bringing.
“If it’s for the best, then it’s for the best.”
Mo Ran huffs.
“This venerable one will have to plan a better surprise. Something more reliable than that bastard.”
I don’t need one almost escapes Chu Wanning’s lips but he settles on, “Save your planning for little star.”
“Right. Her wedding.”
“Or birthday.”
Mo Ran kisses the top of his head, clearly feeling a little better. “Or her birthday,” he agrees despite the disappointment in his voice.
Mo Ran holds him for a while until Liu-gong calls that the tea is steeped and ready. Only then do they both rise and leave the lonely, dark room for the one suddenly filled with life once more. They sit with Huang Chunyue and Liu-gong. Mo Ran holds the puppy while Chu Wanning feed’s A-Xing while picking pieces of fruit from a bowl and sipping tea. He is silent but Mo Ran is not. Mo Ran tells the story of the Spiritual Mountain Competition before he stormed out, including the new found detail that Chu Wanning didn’t stop him from cheating.
Feeling the dull warmth of the moment Chu Wanning knew that he chose right now to run away in his brief chance. This night, the brightness and happiness of the small group, is surprise enough for him. Surprise enough to keep trudging on until he’s certain that it is the end.
In the end, Mo Ran is disappointed that Xue Meng ignored his letter. He’s tired of Chu Wanning’s depression. He yearns for Chu Wanning’s desperation instead. But as they lay down to sleep in the creaking, dusty bed, Mo Ran thinks that maybe Chu Wanning is right that it’s for the best. If Xue Meng came and they began to fight, Mo ran doesn’t know if he could have kept himself from killing his cousin. If that had happened, Chu Wanning’s spirit might have broken entirely.
Perhaps it’s for the best, even with his disappointment. Perhaps the surprise is simply that, for the first time Mo Ran can remember, he had a good day with Chu Wanning and his daughter.