to dust or to gold [FIC]
Oct. 23rd, 2019 11:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
notturnitoIn a world where ascending into godhood means ensuring your name in the legends, Jiang Xunyi's name doesn't make it to the forefront of history.
Everyone knows which celebration falls on the fifteenth day of the seventh month.
It is a day of honoring. A day of respecting another existence aside the mortals.
Some also say it is a day of warning, and of fearing.
The people of Central Plains made it a norm to celebrate the Hungry Ghost Festival with a mix of both—with the respect, also with the fear. They may call it festival, yes. Celebrations, theatrical acts may be performed to bring entertainment (though they never seem to mention to whom those acts are for). They leave seats unoccupied on the front rows. Monks and priests of now throw rice to the air, to distribute them , they say, though no one ever seems to mention to whom.
However, there was a time when it wasn't called—nevertheless regarded—as a festival.
It was in an older time, a time where no merriments were made, a time where shops were closed early and roads were abandoned by the living, not even for the bandits—truth be told, no bandits would even dare roam around, even if they were paid for it. Back then, the living had lived in fear.
The dead, though, they had thrived.
Some things do remain from that time. Joss sticks, lighted in front of houses. Offerings laid on the sides of every road. Doors were shut, and after certain hours, they were not to be answered for anyone.
Back then, the dead were bolder. They claimed more days than just the fifteenth of the seventh month. They didn't ask for your attention; they demanded your attention. They made ruckus; they rattled wooden sheds and wooden doors. Some farmers considered themselves lucky if only a couple of their animals lived to the next day. And those who lived by the main roads bolted down their doors and covered their windows.
And then they waited.
The singing always came first.
In the thickness of silence and fear, no one would've recognized it, especially when it sounded so far away, distant, as though a trick played by the ears. But the outline of the music was slowly able to be recognized—the chilling high note of dizi, the accompanying drums, the crash of cymbals. Following that, emerged then uproarious laughter, and cacklings, and singing, sounding clearer and clearer still, their chilling cheer a stark contrast to the night's supposed silence.
The night was always the time for the dead's Parade.
And for the living? During this time, there were simple rules. You do not go out. You do not open the door for anyone. You do not try to look upon the Parade, no matter how enchanting they sounded, no matter how the thrill of joining seemed to beckon you to look closer, to step outside and see.
There are better things worth more severe consequences. More than being blind for, and definitely more than losing your soul for.
The dead and the living do not mingle well.
Though, perhaps, you might find a different story, somewhere in the northern villages of Central Plains. A more complete story, though with some elements adjusted to the region.
They told of a villager who once managed to get a glimpse of the Parade.
She went out of the house bringing her child; family disputes, said mouth-to-mouth accounts. Yet no one remembered that it had been new moon—the Parade's time. And when her husband did, and was about to break through the doors following his wife, his brothers held him back. The Parade does not care for anyone, they had said. If you value even a bit of your sanity or your life, you would do well to stay inside and wait for the dawn, for the news of your wife and your child’s fate.
She returned to the house not too long after. They nearly mistook the knock on the door for a ghost’s.
Her husband greeted her with relief and joy at having his wife alive; and her in-laws did as well, though with a mixture of suspicion as they thought she might have been one of the deads, merely returning to live for a brief moment. Their suspicion dispersed through when she ate salt and was blessed with holy water, and was unharmed by both.
Her husband’s relief and joy turned to shock and confusion, when he realized that his son wasn’t by his wife.
When he asked, she bursted into tears before clinging to his feet. She didn’t have any choice, she had said, the Parade had taken a liking to their son, and had seized him with force from her. She had run after them with futility, as the ghosts laughed and jeered until they reached by the riverbanks and dispersed into nothingness, taking her child along with them.
Hearing the answer, the husband fell into a faint. When he came to, he went red from rage before his anger subsided, receding—helpless in knowing that he couldn’t do anything for his son. They both lamented and lit joss sticks for the loss of their son, for they knew once the Parade took, there would be no returning.
The husband’s family, though happy with this development, as the loss finally ensured the favored heir’s spot as family head, still kept up face and contacted the local temples and priests for help.
They swept the area for three days and three nights before the lack of finding made them give up on the search.
A particular malicious rumor sprouted up back then: what if the mother had given away her son instead? A son was one thing. But if she lived, she could still conceive more for her husband.
Though there was another viewpoint, considering the infamous internal dispute of the Jiang family: the mother could have given away her child, but for protection instead. The timing was too impeccable not to notice for it.
There was this legend too, there:
If you go to the river at a full moon’s night, and put out a branch of plum blossoms to be offered to the river along with something you wish to give, as moonlight shone on the river and made its surface glow a pure silver white: the Lord of the Parade would come to you, and accept what you offered him—had he deemed it worthy.
The family decreed that all those were nonsense, and hushed those who spread the rumors.
At that point, the ghosts were stronger than the living, and everyone knew the Lord of the Parade was ancient, his power carrying the cataclysm of the past than the one of current era. He was considered equal to a fallen deity, even.
And when humans couldn’t fight something stronger than them, they turned to the ones who could.
Thus, the Jiang family turned to the gods.
*
“My Lord, Master Yun is here.”
Yun Xie enters the familiar venue as Zhuo Zhengfan bows, making his exit, his mask obscuring the grin on his lips. Yan Qixin, Yun Xie’s second-in-command, is standing by outside, to note and record the conversation that will ensue. This has always been the agreed conduct between servant of Heaven when meeting the representation of Ghosts, though Yun Xie knows it doesn’t really matter, really, for them both.
He takes in the view—still simple as always, too simple for Yun Xie’s liking, though it doesn’t mean not elegant nor sparsely-decorated. Heavenly deities cover everything of theirs in gold and jade, and even Yun Xie is sick of looking at it. This room is a breath of fresh air for him, especially after Heaven.
How long has it been, again? Time works differently for immortals, after all.
“Ah-Xun,” Yun Xie greets.
His eyes find the room decoration he’d sent, hanging on the wall behind the study; a paper fan, gilded and inked with gold, with a simple jade tassel hanging from it. His heart soars at the sight, though he knows by now to keep his silence. Centuries of working together; Yun Xie knows his place, this servant does.
Jiang Xunyi is sitting behind his usual wooden table, staring with an indecipherable and implacable gaze, as though a sword striking true into the heart.
The sight of him still aches a terrible, raw part inside Yun Xie, even all this time.
He motions at the teapot and the only cup on the table, signaling Yun Xie to pour his tea by himself.
Yun Xie holds his laugh—still cruel as always, Ah-Xun—as he moves closer to the table. He complies with the wishes: reaching for the pot and pouring the tea himself, still standing, before he finally reaches the cup and drinks, in slow, long sips.
Finally, Jiang Xunyi speaks.
“I thought the gods up above were busy, that they didn’t have time for mortal realm.” He glances at Yun Xie, before giving a small nod for him to sit. “Being at war, after all.”
Yun Xie grins, finally, taking his seat on the opposite end of the table. “I would always have time for you, Ah-Xun.”
Jiang Xunyi gives a small scoof, nearly fleeting. Ah, Yun Xie thinks. “Disgusting, I nearly have forgotten. Typical.” He must be in a terribly good mood.
“That’s because we rarely meet anymore,” Yun Xie whines, planting his elbow on the table, all manners thrown out and forgotten. “How is Yuan-gege?”
The noise of disgust Jiang Xunyi makes is so familiar, that Yun Xie has to hide his snort behind his cup of tea. He enjoys the glare, though, that is thrown at him. “You are disgusting. Don’t call Ge like that.”
Yun Xie grins sleazily at him, batting his eyelashes. “Ah-Xun’s family is my own family, so of course I will call Ah-Xun’s brother as my own gege.”
Jiang Xunyi rolls his eyes, hard. “Dedication. Well, if you want to catch up with him, Ge’s dealing with Xuan Li on the borderlands. I’m sure he will greet you warmly with his signature stab to the guts.”
“Cruel!” Yun Xie leans forward, grinning so hard he feels he is stretching the muscles of his face. “Though, is that an invitation to stay?”
How he loves that idea—being able to meet his Ah-Xun every day. Being able to escape Heaven’s war in favor of Hell. At least he can see Jiang Xunyi in Hell. He can be greeted by Jiang Xunyi’s face for morning, for noon, dusk, night; for ever.
Jiang Xunyi stares at him, for a while.
“You are here for Heaven, Yun Xie,” he reminds.
Heaviness enters his chest, but Yun Xie’s mind clears up. He knows he’s gotten away lucky. Jiang Xunyi’s tone is not gentle, but Yun Xie knows this the gentlest the Lord of the Parade could ever be. This is the gentlest Jiang Xunyi could afford to be.
Right. Yun Xie smiles then, his usual smile he knows Jiang Xunyi dislikes most, the one he uses when he deals with Heavenly authorities. He sits up straight and puts his palms on his lap.
“Doesn’t Ah-Xun already have an idea though, on why I’m here? Words do get out, you see.”
Yun Xie reaches out again for his tea, taking another sip as Jiang Xunyi ponders.
“If it’s about the cattle,” he says, to which Yun Xie nearly releases his hold on the cup at, before he sees the soft slyness in Jiang Xunyi’s eyes. Ah, Ah-Xun has truly mingled too much with the Ghosts. “It was never my Parade. My subordinates know better than to snatch on the livings’ possessions.”
Yun Xie coughs, putting his cup down. “Of course not.”
That is one thing he’s known and has experienced firsthand from knowing Jiang Xunyi for years, centuries. His competence. His capability. The utter strength of his charisma.
“But,” Yun Xie lowers his tone, looking at Jiang Xunyi with intent. The seriousness of his voice makes Jiang Xunyi finally turn to look. “I heard you took a boy.”
The tension thickens, as expected. Though, Yun Xie has taken care not to stall too much on his words. Yun Xie has tried fighting his way in Heaven to getting this case handled not by anyone else.
Jiang Xunyi should know. Yun Xie hopes he would know.
“You heard it,” Jiang Xunyi asks, laziness languidly dripping from his words. “Or Heaven heard it?”
Yun Xie can’t help but to ruefully smile. “There’s not much difference between that now, is there?”
Jiang Xunyi is silent.
His forefinger taps on the countertop of the table. Once. “Then I will say to you what I will say to Heaven, or Heaven’s other envoys.” He smiles suddenly, cold and stony—and it brings back memories to the forefront of Yun Xie’s mind; ones from their shared youth, where once Yun Xie had considered giving up ascendancy for.
Jiang Xunyi says, “That boy was given, not taken.”
They stare at each other for a while.
Yun Xie prompts, a question he’s been told to ask Jiang Xunyi as envoy of Heaven. He knows Jiang Xunyi will understand. “A boy from Jiang family, though?”
Silence.
The stare Jiang Xunyi gives him is still cold, harsh. He taps the surface of the table again; once, twice. Ah, truly, Yun Xie would not ask if he could, but he is merely playing envoy here, see, Ah-Xun. “Kidnapping children is not of my taste, Yun Xie, despite what they might’ve thought. If you’re looking for a den of madness, I would suggest to consider the Demons’ territory, instead.”
Despite the distinction Jiang Xunyi has made in his speech—he uses “they,” Yun Xie giddily thinks—Yun Xie cannot help it. He breaks into a helpless smile. “I’ve never thought anything but the best of you, Ah-Xun.”
Jiang Xunyi is silent, again. The gaze he levels on Yun Xie though, it softens, even if only infinitesimally. For Yun Xie, it is still counted as a small victory.
“Tsk,” Jiang Xunyi clicks his tongue. “Noisy as always. Years up there has made you a greasy mess of an envoy, Yun Xie.” They both know Yun Xie is still the best envoy Heaven could’ve sent for this. For Jiang Xunyi. “Still, the boy was given, not taken. Zhengfan.”
Zhuo Zhengfan enters the room, bring a wooden tray with head bowed. He makes his exit just as quietly and swiftly.
Jiang Xunyi pluck the plum blossom branch on the wooden tray, as well as a crumpled-looking note on it. He lays them on the table, the elegant movement of his wrist catching the most of Yun Xie’s attention.
“Here,” Jiang Xunyi says, and Yun Xie’s focus returns on track. “The plum blossom. An offering made when the night is high and the river reflects the moon’s light. Say that to the heavenly officials above your station. I have this right.”
He means the Jade Emperor.
“Ah-Xun can always refuse the offering.”
Jiang Xunyi’s lips curl coldly. “Was that you speaking, or the Heaven speaking, Yun Xie? You know we abide the rules, too. Humans are the ones free to make their own choice. Us, immortals and undead, we simply take watch. And this time, the mother has made hers. Heaven needs not interfere.”
Heaven needs not interfere.
A moment after Jiang Xunyi finishes speaking, Yun Xie smiles, finally.
Jiang Xunyi replies with his cold smile, this time a touch arrogant. So, so similar to the one he used to make in his youth.
This exchange of theirs—is one Heaven will not be able to see nor hear, anyway. It is their secret, locked in the secrecy of this ephemeral moment.
Yun Xie finally says, “Only making sure that Heaven and Hell still say on the same page about the free will of mortals.” That they—both he and Ah-Xun—still stay on the same page when Yun Xie returns to make his report to Heaven.
Jiang Xunyi scoffs. He taps on the crumpled paper on the table. There are two characters on it; Mo Lou, Yun Xie reads.
“Well, if it will lessen their concern,” Jiang Xunyi says, “first: the boy has been named, therefore he does not belong completely to the city. Second, as the boy has been named, it shows that the mother cares for him and that her action was one of necessity.” So, Heaven should investigate better than blaming everything to him, is left unsaid. Yun Xie reaches out to pour his tea again.
“Third, Heaven forgets.”
Yun Xie raises an eyebrow, halfway to putting the pot on the table. “Oh?”
Jiang Xunyi lifts up his chin, gazing down on him. “The boy is of Jiang family. He is of Ge’s bloodline.” Jiang Xunyi then turns quiet, before, “Tell Heaven this, Yun Xie: Jiang Xunyi is not that fox Xuan Li. A ghost is humanborn, and my mind hasn’t so clouded over as to harm my own descendant.
“I am that boy’s ancestor, Yun Xie. Two people here in the Ghost City are his ancestors. Heaven knows this even better, if they try to look even a bit further on their teachings.” He smiles again, coldly. “An ancestor always takes care of their descendants.”
And just as Jiang Xunyi finishes his words, Yun Xie finishes his cup of tea.
The cup clacks as he puts it on its small plate, ending this formal conversation. That settles it, then. A good negotiation. A better chance to even talk with Jiang Xunyi, though Yun Xie wishes he could stay longer, that they both could meet under better circumstances, perhaps one where war wasn’t looming over Yun Xie’s head.
… and yet, he cannot say that.
Yun Xie cannot muster the urge to leave, not yet, not when war is raging abovehead, oblivious to the thoughts of mortals. He wants to sit here for all eternity, even if he cannot say what his heart yearns for, to the person who owns it in front of him.
“What are you still doing here?” He hears Jiang Xunyi sigh, irritated. “Don’t you have a report to write?”
In the end, Yun Xie can only try to prolong even this small moment. He can’t hide the softness in his voice when he speaks up, “Just another question.”
“Well say it, then. Don’t waste more of our time.”
Yun Xie is silent, before he asks. “And… if the father or the family wants the boy back?”
Jiang Xunyi stares at him, a frown on his beautiful face.
“Only if they are worthy to receive him,” Jiang Xunyi carefully says. His eyes narrow, annoyance flashing briefly in then when he sees Yun Xie shake his head. It’s the wrong answer. Yun Xie knows Ah-Xun will always take care of his family. Heaven is the one who doesn’t.
Jiang Xunyi makes a noise out of irritation. “Do I always have to say this? Just write the damn report, Yun Xie. The Lord of the Parade has received and will not return the boy until the boy comes of age. Then, he can make his own choice."
He sees the look in Yun Xie's face, and sighs hard, saying:
“Let me tell you this: Heaven and Hell’s paths have always diverged. If they see me in bad light, let them." He looks away, face hard, as though carved from stone. "They are the ones who put me into this position, anyway, and not even the ghosts.”
And Yun Xie’s heart aches, again.
But it is fleeting—he can only forces it so; as an immortal he must keep it so. Though Yun Xie cannot help but savor the sight, tracing and retracing the lines of Jiang Xunyi’s face over and over again, keeping safe this one memory in mind. When he hears Jiang Xunyi’s tongue click in impatience, he knows he has overstayed his welcome, and gathers himself up.
He lingers just a bit more.
Jiang Xunyi raises an eyebrow when he still doesn’t move. “Do you truly want a blessing from Hell that badly, Yun Xie?”
Yun Xie laughs then, from the lack of anything else to do. How cruel Jiang Xunyi is—has always been.
He hopes they can still meet, after the war.
Yun Xie smiles.
He says then gently. "See you next time, Ah-Xun."
Until Heaven and Hell converge paths once more—even for the briefest moment.
.
Legends are nebulous, easily twisted into unrecognition. What was written on the papers might only hold a grain of truth when penned by the wrong people; behind the countless myths might be hidden a terrible, untold secret. It is easy to label the characters in it as black and white, and blot out those who left the protagonist’s story stained. It is also easy not to notice how intertwined parts can sometimes make part of a greater myth.
For example, Jiang Xunyi’s name does not make it into the forefront of legends.
Mortals know of Yun Xie, the Wind God whom parts clouds, waymaker of skies. They know of his legends, his dees, his virtues. A former cultivator of Solar Envy sect; a hero; a mischievous deity. He was loved by another cultivator, Feng Qiu, of the Four Famous Families. However, he rejected her love and instead pursued godhood, alongside with his friend.
Yun Xie ascended.
His friend died, his name unable to be recorded by history, his deeds blurred with Yun Xie’s deeds in the legends.
A human doesn’t take precedence over deities, after all.
However, most forget; death is only a stepping stone. It is a pathway to a change of state.
Whereas Yun Xie’s friend died, his virtue slowly fading into the background of Yun Xie’s myth; the Lord of the Parade rose, only a tad later than Yun Xie, marking the start of the undead’s banding.
At the time of Yun Xie’s ascendancy, Hell was a disjointed community, filled with rampage and chaos. However, it quelled for a momentary while, before then emerged the Lord in the middle of the unsettled undead and demons.
Never had Heaven thought of making deals with spirits with a lifetime of obsession holding their ground, before the ghosts were banded under the Lord’s banner. They couldn’t say anything however—the Lord was a prominent figure but his activities were subtle, his strength showing only in the silence of it.
It made Heaven grind their teeth in frustration: how cocky! How arrogant! Centuries of this wild flock of undead being unmanageable, yet someone managed to suddenly became their leader, rallied them in iron strength, and suddenly made a hidden community of them?! Unbelievable, who would do something like this?! But they couldn’t do anything except to keep a very close eye on any movements, except for the time they couldn’t, and then the Parades began.
As for the demons… well, they’re a band of creatures completely unrelated to the undead, though just as—if not more—troublesome.
When the Lord of the Parade came to power, the demons’ situation was not unlike how the ghosts were. However, the Lord did not seem to care for them, only focusing on strengthening his territory and community. There was a slight altercation, though, when the fox demon Xuan Li finally achieved a high enough cultivation to attain human form, and he rallied the demons, and he was even at the point of ascendancy.
However, the Heaven did not interest Xuan Li. He was more interested in becoming the Demon Sovereign, as well as picking fights with the Lord of the Parade.
Time settled his arrogance and his obsession for the Lord of the Parade, however, once the latter proved his territory impenetrable, as well as maintaining their fights from reaching the mortal realm.
Hence, Hell was always known to be divided. By the demons’ side led by Xuan Li; by the undead’s side led by the ancient Lord.
It had always been that way, in the old times.
.
“I brought you a gift.”
Xuan Li sees Jiang Xunyi give a glance at the child by Xuan Li’s side. His gaze seems frosty, unwelcoming. A rather cold reaction. Then the gaze turns towards Xuan Li and— oh. Rather than being unwelcoming to the child, he’s unwelcoming to Xuan Li.
Interesting.
“Fox,” Jiang Xunyi says. “This is a human child. Do you think my territory is a place for their kind?”
Amusing. Jiang Xunyi is always amusing. Contradicting his actions with his words. The last time Xuan Li monitored him, his movement was not in accordance with what he said. Xuan Li merely leans his chin on the palm of his hand, elbow on the table.
“Oh?” Jiang Xunyi’s eyes turn even colder at his actions. He turns his face to side as if Xuan Li’s sight annoys him. Xuan Li merely grins and continues, “That doesn’t seem to be right? After all, I heard you have a human child under you now.”
Jiang Xunyi doesn’t turn. His gaze is fixed on the child, still hard, though definitely softer and gentler than his gaze at Xuan Li.
Xuan Li adds again, to coax. “I brought you this one as playmate.”
Silence. It stretches through the room as Jiang Xunyi keeps it so, not saying anything, keeping his mind closed off to Xuan Li.
When he speaks, his voice is dangerously soft. “Through kidnapping?”
Xuan Li feels his lips stretching wide into a grin. Oh, Jiang Xunyi. You put up a cold front, but your heart is one of inferno. Still is, even after he has become a living dead. Ah but to answer that— “No,” he says. And it’s true. He lets Jiang Xunyi take that into consideration before he then adds, voice purposefully lower, silkier, “I will tell you where if you’re willing to trade me.”
Then, Jiang Xunyi snorts, finally lifting up his head to look at him, his gaze holding a fire belonging only to the living.
A true beauty is free to do what they wish, indeed. Jiang Xunyi can look away from Xuan Li, not even a singlest bit mesmerized, and yet Xuan Li can never look away from him.
“To trade with a fox is a bad business,” Jiang Xunyi says, enunciating his sentence with a low pressure. Just as Xuan Li enjoys the rare change of that tone, he turns to the child, again, surprising Xuan Li with the quickness of his change in demeanor. He softens. When he speaks, his entire tone is gentle.
“Where are you from?”
Xuan Li nearly mistakes it as vulnerability.
The child Xuan Li brings looks up at Jiang Xunyi with wide eyes; like a deer, Xuan Li thinks.
No. Too small. A fawn, then.
He sputters then says, “T… this one is from the mountains, Lord….”
“And your parents?” Oh, that is such a gentle tone. Not that the fawn would recognize it, would appreciate it. He stares at Jiang Xunyi with questioning eyes, tilting his head slightly to side.
“Parents…?” he carefully asks.
This time, Xuan Li can see the flash of—not surprise, but rather… a taken aback stance. A slip of his original composure. How cute.
Jiang Xunyi quickly regains back his regal countenance though. “Who did you live with before this…,” his gaze flits on Xuan Li with slight displeasure, before returning again to the child. “... senior took you from your mountain?”
Oho. Xuan Li leans forward on the table, unable to hold back his grin from stretching wide. Jiang Xunyi calls him ‘Senior.’ What a major improvement. Indeed a pleasant surprise.
“Ah,” the fawn says, in recognition. “This one lived alone, Lord.”
Jiang Xunyi stares.
“There is no one else?”
The fawn shakes his head. “This one lived alone in the mountains, Lord, before Senior kindly picked me up.” He gives a small glance to Xuan Li, though quickly widens his eyes and averts his gaze when he notices Xuan Li giving him a smile. Mm. A fawn, indeed.
Jiang Xunyi is staring at the child with unreadable eyes, though it is clear that there is consideration weighing on his mind.
When he speaks, it is to question then, “... have you eaten something?”
The child looks startled, before perking up at the mention of food. He had been given something to eat by Jiang Yuan, but it was some… time ago. Hm. A human child should be hungry then by now? But then again… this fawn is something rather… different.
Speaking of him, he is now glancing at Xuan Li, as though asking for permission.
Xuan Li grins at him. He will be very gracious this once. Jiang Xunyi better watch this. “You are not a demon, which makes me not your ruler. You’re a gift to this Lord, after all,” so be a good boy and make the Lord happy is left unsaid as Jiang Xunyi cuts him off quickly, harshly.
“He is not a gift.” Jiang Xunyi stares at him, cutting and filled with edge. Oh he is angry. That is such an attractive look on him. Jiang Xunyi declares, “He is his own person, and he shall decide for himself.”
Xuan Li smiles then, acquiescing, and Jiang Xunyi then turns to the child. Again, his tone is so much gentler than when he speaks with anyone else. Xuan Li is rather jealous. “Are you hungry, then?”
The fawn looks hesitantly to Xuan Li. That’s the wrong direction to look at, boy. Xuan Li lifts up his chin at Jiang Xunyi’s direction, and the fawn follows it, returning the attention of his doe eyes to Jiang Xunyi.
Then he slowly gives a shy nod.
Jiang Xunyi launches then into a series of instructions for the child, looking attractively animated and alive in a way Xuan Li has never seen him before. “The servants should still have food from human world for Molou,” he says. “You can pick from there and eat whatever you like. I can’t show you around now, but I will call my Ge to do that for you, alright? He looks rather scary, but he is a very kind brother. If you need anything, or if you’re curious about something, just make sure to ask him. Good?”
The child nods, looking rather dizzy from the barrage of questions.
Jiang Xunyi nods, looking satisfied. That is… a rather surprisingly cute side of him. Ah. “Ge? Come in.”
Jiang Yuan immediately enters the room, no doubt having heard everything from his position standing guard by the door. His face is masked, though his eyes are visible as well as the lower part of his face, both showing the icy countenance present as well on Jiang Xunyi. Xuan Li throws him a sly smile as Jiang Yuan glares at him, heated and disgusted, but his gaze slips and fastens itself on the child, softening immediately. A pair of soft-hearted brothers, hiding their hearts behind such icy exterior.
Xuan Li notices the child’s eyes also lighting up seeing Jiang Yuan. The fawn must’ve recognized him, from when Xuan Li and Jiang Yuan picked him up from his snow mountain when their entourages—both demons and ghosts—passed by.
Xuan Li notices as well Jiang Xunyi watching their interaction. The tenseness previously present on his shoulders lessens in its severity.
Jiang Xunyi gives a series of instructions to his brother, casual and unbothered. Once he is finished, Jiang Yuan nods at him, before turning to the child. It doesn’t take long before Jiang Yuan holds out a hand, palm upwards. His eyes are crinkling. There is even a hint of smile on his lips.
The fawn hesitates, before he reaches out towards Jiang Yuan’s outstretched hand, clutching it. Ah, the concept of independence has been realized. Marvelous. No, the boy looks at Xuan Li and then Jiang Xunyi for a while, his gaze darting nervously between the two. Then, he gives them—both he and Jiang Xunyi—a hurried bow.
The child says then to Xuan Li, “Thank you Senior for taking care of me before.”
Jiang Yuan gives a look of disbelief, mostly at Xuan Li, before the boy straightens up and they—he and Jiang Yuan—both make their exit.
An amusing boy. He will not belong with the Demons. At least Xuan Li has made the right decision by not giving himself headache over that.
…and at least, Jiang Xunyi seems enamored by the child.
“Where did you get such a well-behaved one?” he asks, his tone dry. “Thought after decades of your den of iniquity, you’d revert back to your wild ways.”
Xuan Li only gives him a small smile—undecipherable, of course, Jiang Xunyi once dubs it as his utmost annoying one. “I picked him up. You can ask Jiang Yuan to confirm my side. And besides…,” he can’t help but let out a grin once he sees Jiang Xunyi’s focused glance at him. “This one is not as human as you might think.”
Jiang Xunyi stares.
It’s clear that he finds it difficult to find words for Xuan Li’s response. And how Xuan Li enjoys the sight, seeing Jiang Xunyi pausing, eyebrows nearly knitted in thought. Finding out what surprises him will always get Xuan Li such interesting reactions.
“Fox,” Jiang Xunyi says carefully then. His tone entices Xuan Li to lean forward more on the table, giving out more sly grin. “If the boy was a ghost, I would’ve known it as soon as he entered this territory. He is all human. He reeks of life.”
Xuan Li almost laughs. He raises an eyebrow instead, to tease. “Reeking of life too much, don’t you think?”
Again, Jiang Xunyi knits his eyebrows as he pauses in thought. Xuan Li enjoys his fill of that sight before he gets a more interesting reaction, as Jiang Xunyi’s face finally colors in disbelief, and then anger, once he has put the pieces Xuan Li has implied together.
“Damn the Heavens,” he grits out from between his teeth.
Ah, that, that was very attractive. That was the very first time Xuan Li has ever heard Jiang Xunyi swear that way. Ah, yes, but well, Xuan Li agrees: of all fuck-ups the gods have made that may come to bite and gnaw at them back, this one is potentially one of their largest. Though, of course, perhaps not as large as the story of Jiang Xunyi’s life.
Jiang Xunyi then says, rather erratically, “Are you sure you want to give me him? What’s his name?”
Ah, finally . Xuan Li can’t resist the evergrowing smile at this opportunity. Jiang Xunyi is finally interested in making a deal. He leans forward even more, grinning, uncaring if the back of his teeth show more canines than actual human teeth. Finally, Jiang Xunyi, finally. “After you’ve been so careful at trying not to make even a mention of the fawn’s name around me, and now this?”
Jiang Xunyi looks irritated—though more at himself, it seems.
“I figured out the Demons would’ve tried to pry out a divinity’s name from the first demigod they found, however how small he is.” He adds then, after a moment of hesitation that trickled so sweetly at the back of Xuan Li’s throat. “And I would trade with you to sell that name to me. Term: an information for an information.”
This sweetness is akin to a first few drops of a fresh hare’s blood. Xuan Li doesn’t even hesitate to agree. “Deal accepted.”
“Then, his name?”
Xuan Li grins, as wide as he can manage, though perhaps he might’ve looked rather disconcerting now to Jiang Xunyi with the wide set of his grin, filled with canines of a fox. Ah, well, Jiang Xunyi must’ve shared his moments of beastliness, Xuan Li is sure.
After a dramatic pause he makes sure to add, Xuan Li then reveals, “… unnamed.”
Jiang Xunyi is silent.
His stare at Xuan Li is heavy, filled with anger, burning as bright as a merciless, unyielding sun. But it is the fury of someone who has lost, of someone who knows the possible consequences of this soul-bound contract, went ahead and signed it, and yet still has lost anyway.
And so Xuan Li smiles in victory.
“You will not, and you cannot, take this back, Jiang Xunyi,” he says, savoring the look Jiang Xunyi sends him, savoring the weight of its intensity, savoring and cherishing the ugly, satisfying feeling that he is the one to have caused Jiang Xunyi to react this way.
Xuan Li continues, “I have answered my part, and now you must answer yours, Jiang Xunyi. Without lying—less you invoke the wrath of the Gods.”
Jiang Xunyi remains not speaking. Yet even as he does so, the weight of his silence stretches across the room in such heavy pressure, as though he is wishing Xuan Li to collapse and be crushed beneath his presence. Or even only from beneath the glare of his eyes.
This is the strength of the Lord of One Hundred Ghosts Parade, feared even by the Heavens.
Jiang Xunyi begins, “Speak then, fox,” he says, his voice lined deep with his fury, as though a heavy storm in brewing that arises animals’ hairs. “Do not tempt my patience with your lousy game. I warn you.”
Xuan Li has received his warning. And though he knows Jiang Xunyi is bound to the deal, he knows also that earning Jiang Xunyi’s displeasure will erase any goodwill Jiang Xunyi feels before this. Then he says.
“The Parades.” Xuan Li pauses, trying to sort his words. He continues, then, “For centuries the Ghosts had never been interested in making themselves known. Yet now, for every full moon, the Parades start. Why now?”
And just that way, Xuan Li can feel the tension release.
Jiang Xunyi’s gaze on him lessens significantly, though it is added now with a touch of disbelief. “… that, is what you wish to ask?”
Xuan Li spreads open his hands. “I wish to know more of you.” He purposefully drops his tone lower. “Jiang Xunyi.”
The annoyed look Jiang Xunyi flashes him is more familiar, seeming even friendlier in comparison to his previous anger.
He sighs, “You should’ve asked a better one. Fine.” Jiang Xunyi turns to side, giving him a glance from the corner of his eye, disinterested. “I made a deal with Yun Xie. Safeguard the mortal realm. Heaven won’t have time for it when it is torn up in the war.”
Ah. Yes. The war in Heavens.
Xuan Li has also somewhat come to that conclusion, but hearing directly that Jiang Xunyi has made a deal for that is… irritating. That Yun Xie…. Even the slightest mention of him makes a flash of displeasure enter Xuan Li’s thoughts.
That troublesome Wind God. That one is like an unseen thorn which has embedded deep in one’s life.
“Ah though,” Xuan Li’s attention is pulled back again to Jiang Xunyi. He is looking at Xuan Li now, with intent. “The boy. Back again to him.”
He frowns at Xuan Li. “Why do you want me to raise him?”
Too many drawbacks is the actual reason, and no demons under Xuan Li knows how to take care of… a human, even if they were half; but Xuan Li wants to answer in a more romantic approach.
He decides to stall. “Oh? Jiang Xunyi, have you changed, then?” At Jiang Xunyi’s raised eyebrows, Xuan Li throws him a smile. “From what I recall, the Jiang Xunyi I know will let the boy choose his own name.”
Jiang Xunyi remains silent, though he now glances away from Xuan Li.
Xuan Li can feel his grin grow larger. “Am I right? Jiang Xunyi.”
Silence greets him again, which Xuan Li decides to take as agreement. Xuan Li lets his grin drop into a more subdued smile, though he is still just as amused. He leans his cheek more onto his palm, elbow on the table, letting his eyes enjoy his fill of sight. Jiang Xunyi, ah, Jiang Xunyi.
“If,” Jiang Xunyi’s voice cuts the silence, as he himself now is finally bothered to give attention to Xuan Li, though only with a glance, “we are talking about change, then you still haven’t changed as well.”
“Oh?”
Jiang Xunyi’s slight smile is cold, though beautiful. It makes something in Xuan Li’s chest stutter, at the sight, seeing something too good to be true.
Before Xuan Li can recover from it, Jiang Xunyi has already said, “Still the same fox who comes to my doorstep every now and then, leaving me scraps, offerings.”
Jiang Xunyi’s smile turns amused now, rendering Xuan Li unable to even think of a quip. He has… never seen such a look directed towards him, before. It is possibly the closest thing to an admission that Xuan Li ever gets that Jiang Xunyi remembers, still, of Xuan Li’s every attempt to win him over.
That fawn, that boy, he must be Xuan Li’s lucky star.
Jiang Xunyi speaks again then, though his voice sours. “Though now you leave a boy in front of my doorsteps.”
Ah yes, that again. Where were they? Oh, Jiang Xunyi asking why Xuan Li gave him the boy.
Xuan Li gives him a charming smile. “To answer your question: the boy is a gift. No strings attached.” As he sees Jiang Xunyi take that into consideration, he grins. An opportunity. “Ah, I have answered your question once more, Jiang Xunyi. Time to answer mine once more.”
That gets him attention immediately.
“I have never agreed to further negotiation, Fox,” Jiang Xunyi states, unamused. The stare Xuan Li gets is rather reptilian in nature, unblinking and flat. But—there is a faint smile, present on Jiang Xunyi’s lips. As though he was an elder about to chide his younglings. … which is not exactly untrue.
How long has it been again? Xuan Li is not as old as Jiang Xunyi, but… their shared history runs deep.
And now seeing Jiang Xunyi in front of him, languid and at ease, his beauty given illumination by the room’s low light, Xuan Li feels it again—a loud drumming coming from his chest, in his ears. The excitement—nearly alike to bloodlust, but not bloodlust—pooling in the pit of his stomach. This… thing, that always is whenever he meets Jiang Xunyi, in battlefields, in negotiations, in every single time that Xuan Li has forgotten when exactly it has started.
“Don’t bite off more than you can chew,” Jiang Xunyi says, his eyes curved and beautiful, his tone rousing something deeply primal inside Xuan Li, something older than even when Xuan Li was still a wild, full-fledged fox. Heavens did something right after all. Ah, how beautiful Jiang Xunyi is.
Xuan Li stares at him, before he slowly smiles.
In retrospect, perhaps this is what attracts Xuan Li so much. The need and urge to resolve this thing he feels towards Jiang Xunyi, that makes him behave like a wild fox, leaving offerings in front of Jiang Xunyi’s door.
He says, “I am sure I can change your mind.”
Let’s only hope that you will never change mine, Xuan Li thinks, and nearly laughs at himself again. It has been more than just one century. Perhaps this will never change.
Xuan Li is looking forward to solving it, still, to solving Jiang Xunyi.
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}