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Chapter Text

Zhou Zishu could never forget this place. It was always cold. A chill that seeped deep into one’s bones and stayed there, never to be fully released, no matter how far a person was able to get from it, no matter how much heat was introduced. It stole warmth from you, sucked out your life force and let it seep into the severe stone, never to be seen again.

His skin prickled as the stale smell took over his senses in the ink black tunnel, heart rate increasing with each step he took on a path that had been well worn by his own traversing. Another lifetime ago.

There were few lights in the dim memories of Zhou Zishu’s time in the Ghost Valley. Luo Fumeng, who quietly brought him scraps and a blanket. The small girl, Gu Xiang, who smiled as they fed her too hot congee. Moments of brief calm singing childhood lullabies. Faint hope, sneaking out in the light of the moon for a swim in the lake. These memories were like dreams that you could faintly remember upon waking - Zhou Zishu’s mind always desperately trying to grasp at them when he tried to recall them, to grab a hold of them and bring them into focus.

He never was able to do so.

This was likely for the best, because what remained had sharp edges. The Ghost Valley Master’s presence, his discipline, his desire to mold Zhou Zishu into something to his benefit. That is what he fought to push from his mind for so many years.

It was for this exact reason that Zhou Zishu was perfect for this task. He had spent hours upon hours lost in the caves of Ghost Valley, left to fend for himself and find his way back or die. The years he had spent here gave him a specific set of knowledge necessary for the Window of Heaven to finally take down the Ghost Valley Master.

He motioned for his men to continue on down the narrow tunnel. These men, who followed him blindly, inching forward in the pitch black, always at the ready, always willing to lay down their lives.

When Zhou Zishu had returned to his cousin over a decade prior - at what should have been an innocent age of 21 but was far from it - Zhou Zishu had been beaten, bloodied, a shell of himself. After recovering and regaining his strength, he would have immediately come back to this place to free Gu Xiang and the others who were obviously there because they had no other choices. But the Prince would not consider it. He said that he had lost Zhou Zishu for too many years already, he would not let him return with heat in his belly and foolish thoughts of revenge.

In all truth, Zhou Zishu now knew it was more because the Ghost Valley Master served a purpose for Prince Jin at the time. A spector, an enemy that the martial arts world focused upon as he slowly gathered his power, slowly built up his army to challenge the Five Lakes Alliance.

He motioned to the group of soldiers behind him, continuing to move them through this back tunnel that he knew led into a small room beside the great hall where the Ghost Valley Master ruled.

But not for long.

The low sharp clink of knives and swords, the gargle of blood, the hollow thud of bodies on the ground. The Window of Heaven worked quickly and quietly, shadows in the night, a trick of the senses, gone on the wind. The familiar masks of the ghost soldiers littered the ground.

Yes, good. The moment he had been focused upon for so many years, the moment he had played in his mind over and over again was finally here: an end to this wretched place.

Zhou Zishu sliced another’s throat as he silently stepped over a body, allowing the group to continue to their target, mindful of the other entrances that would leave them vulnerable if the Ghost Valley Master was alerted to their presence. The sentry kept watch on the outer wall. If they managed to escape notice, it could give them a full incense stick to advance without the full force of their defense.

“Attack!” voices rang out. The metal clanging of swords swelled as Zhou Zishu made his way to the front line, the scouts apparently misjudging the presence of the security in the great hall. When he cleared the small room and made it into the cavernous space, it was nothing short of a blood bath.

Hundreds of ghost soldiers had been waiting. The Ghost Valley had somehow known they were there.

He made his way through the crowd, Baiyi slicing through soft bellies and vulnerable necks in the exact spots where he knew the ghost soldiers were weak. The ghost soldiers fighting had become more skilled, each moving in a calculated formation. Years ago, they had been more of a gang, a blunt tool for the Ghost Valley Master, who held the cunning. He had wanted Zhou Zishu to train his men in martial arts. He had tried, but many did not have the skill. Somehow the Ghost Valley Master had accomplished what had seemed impossible all those years ago.

Zhou Zishu laid down at least ten ghost soldiers as he called his men back. Retreat. It was vile, but necessary.

But the words choked in his throat as a violent thrash of red splayed out another dozen of his men, an open fan coated with blood, concealing a face. A ray of bodies on the floor.

“Stop,” the man commanded, snapping the fan closed, revealing a placid, handsome face. He took Zhou Zishu in as all his men were being corralled by the ghost soldiers. The man draped in vibrant red robes, splattered with dark red blood, snarled as his jaw tightened, burrowing into Zhou Zishu with the eyes of a predator. Not the Ghost King, no. But someone…

His mind stuttered, attempting to chase the clawing thoughts, attempting to hold onto the earth as it spun. But it was to no avail. Zhou Zishu was thrust off into darkness.

He woke to the taste of copper and the heat of fresh blood on his face, but he found no open wounds as he inspected his face and head. Strange. His mind flipped through possible scenarios. Drugging most likely, although he recalled no suspicious odors and he had ingested nothing.

“Still finding trouble, it seems,” a warm voice carried through the shadows. Zhou Zishu squinted, his eyes adjusting to the low light, the small dank space only illuminated by a few scattered candles. He had spent enough time in these small hovels to know he was tucked away in the deep recesses of the mountain, in the dungeons. This was definitely the most difficult of areas in Ghost Valley from which to find escape.

“No greeting? Not even a polite, ‘how have you been’?” The woman’s porcelain face and hair along with her stunning red robes came into focus. Her presence called to mind fire and ice, a warning of her dual nature. A viper with a mother’s voice.

“Aunt Luo,” he said, rolling his body upright to get a better look. “What a warm welcome.”

“You know you are not welcome here,” she said, moving closer to the bars that trapped him inside. “You were to never return.” Her voice was cold, but her eyes shone with a tenderness that shocked Zhou Zishu back in time, the memory of her kindness flowing over him.

He sputtered and gasped. “What did you all give me?”

“You have not been given anything since you arrived here.”

“Aunt Luo,” another voice said from around the corner. “Here are the supplies you requested.” A young woman joined her at the bars, a striking beauty, she moved with the unrestrained motions of one too young to know the value of being deliberate. Bright swaths of purple swayed with her movements, contrasting the bleakness of the rest of their surroundings. “Is that...bossy brother? Are you the one who made such a mess up above?”

Bossy brother. There was one only person who had ever called him this. “A-Xiang?”

“I thought…” She looked up at Luo Fumeng, face pale. “I thought he was dead.”

Luo Fumeng’s expression was blank, unreadable. “Did anyone ever say that?”

“No, but Master…”

“Master does not like to dwell on unpleasantries,” Luo Fumeng said, her tone indicating this line of questioning was done. Perhaps she did not want to discuss how Zhou Zishu’s last moments in Ghost Valley had been ones where he had been injured and somehow ended up on his cousin’s doorstep. Zhou Zishu obviously wanted to know what happened, but it was clear that this story would not be shared at this moment. But there was one that might be.

“What happened to the Ghost Valley Master? And who is the man who replaced him?”

Gu Xiang opened her mouth and then quickly closed it, bowing her head to Luo Fumeng, but watching her intently.

“That Ghost Valley Master is dead. Our new Master killed him. His name is Wen Kexing.”

Zhou Zishu’s thoughts melted at this. A sharp pain followed.

“Zishu?” Aunt Lao called, thrusting her hands through the bars to stabilize him.

Hearing it said out loud, Zhou Zishu’s thoughts clicked into place. An image of a sword through the Ghost Valley Master’s heart rang in his mind. Perhaps the vision was from stories he had heard or one of the many fantasies he had dreamt over the years. There was not much Zhou Zishu wanted more than that vile creature’s death.

But somehow, he knew it wasn't just a vision.

Why had he not been able to recall this earlier? The answer was on the edge of his consciousness, just out of reach, driving him mad. And Zhou Zishu wiped the hot liquid dripping from his nose. More blood.

He steadied himself with the bars, breathing deeply until the pain subsided. They had to have drugged him. He knew they were capable. People here were wild animals, they could be rabid if caught in cages - Zhou Zishu should know, he was one of them. But Luo Fumeng had always been truthful with him. He had always been able to trust her, even if she could not protect him.

“Your Master does not know who I am? I need every advantage I can to get my people out of here.”

Luo Fumeng and Gu Xiang slid their eyes toward one another. Their eyes locked in unspoken communication for only a moment before Luo Fumeng nodded toward the entryway. “Don’t get dead again,” Gu Xiang said to him and took off out of sight.

“Why did you come after all these years?”

Zhou Zishu considered his word and opted for the truth, or the majority of it, anyway. “The Five Lakes Alliance and Prince Jin are in a bloody battle for the glazed armor. People still suspect the Ghost Valley Master stole the key all those years ago when he entrapped me.” He moved his arm slowly, flexing it, a dull ache bloomed where he must have landed on it. “I knew this place the best - and he deserved to die. I am disappointed I did not get to see him bleed out on the floor.”

He could not help but flinch thinking of the old Ghost Valley Master. The weight of his whip as Zhou Zishu was beaten senseless. He had claimed it made Zhou Zishu stronger, but all he remembered was the tightness of his fists, the hatred in his heart and the hole in the cave wall where his mind drifted, a solace from his body.

“Zhou-er,” she said, as though she had been scolding him as a youth, warning him to keep his head down. “Our new Ghost Valley Master is no less dangerous than the previous one. Do not underestimate him.”

“Then he may deserve to die as well.”

She pursed her lips. “Please. Bide your time and flee. Leave us to our own concerns. None of it is yours.”

“Zhou Xu,” he corrected. “I will give your master that name, please give me that. I ask nothing more.” He leaned toward the bars and lowered his voice. “But you do deserve more Aunt Luo. I can help you and the others leave, if you want. Just consider it.”

The clank of the outer door rang through the hollow cell as two guards came into view. “Master wants you to return to him,” Luo Fumeng said. “Please heed what I have said.”

Traveling through the winding, unlit caverns, Zhou Zishu was somehow both suffocating and facing an expanse of his mind. Echoes of memories becoming full fledged experiences, visions he only could vaguely recall now had a time and place.

He’d spent more time than he’d like to consider in the dungeons. But he inhabited the upper chambers much more often, as long as he had been a satisfactory soldier. This meant following all the Ghost Valley Master’s directives, never questioning, always working for him. Zhou Zishu had gotten good at doing enough to slide by, but eventually that wasn’t enough. But he still could not pull what happened next from the depths of his mind.

His wrists chafed in the bound shackles around them, but they had left his legs free, which was either arrogant or a sign they believed they had other means to keep him in line. If what Aunt Luo said was correct, it was likely the latter.

The soldiers brought him back to the receiving room. Wen Kexing’s presence was blaring, now in pristinely clean red robes, no sign of the previous slaughter. He splayed his body across the throne, carved intricately with vicious creatures, the message that the most deadly of them all sat perched upon them. He did not look up, as though Zhou Zishu’s mere presence was a slight inconvenience, one that did not require his full attention.

Zhou Zishu was placed on his knees, head forced down by one of the sentries. He waited as the new Ghost Valley Master hummed, a vague but familiar tune, utterly uninterested in him.

“Master,” one of the men greeted him with a bow.

Wen Kexing shifted forward, his feet placed squarely on the floor as he moved toward Zhou Zishu.

“All hail the Ghost Valley Master!” The oppressive chant filled the room with affirmations of the Ghost King’s power.

“It is unfortunate that we have not been properly introduced. You are?”

The men pulled Zhou Zishu to his feet. “Zhou Xu,” he said, his eyes still diverted. This man clearly valued deference. Zhou Zishu would play along to see what came of it.

“You wear Prince Jin’s symbol. I would think him much more polite than this, storming into another’s home uninvited.”

“It was a mistake. We came believing the former Ghost Valley Master still reigned here. We have no quarrel with you. I respectfully ask you to release us in good faith. A debt will be owed by Prince Jin.”

“You expect such a bargain to be acceptable to me? To my people, who you have already slaughtered?” He gestured to the room filled with his subjects. A line of his primary advisors and leaders, the top ten ghosts. All dressed in ways to proudly wear their exile, meant to give the message: we no longer belong and reject all you stand for. Zhou Zishu was a bit stunned at the organization, rows and rows of faceless soldiers flanking the leaders, twenty or thirty deep. Their numbers had grown exponentially since he had been there.

“Is some unnamed favor in the future worth their lives?” The Ghost Valley Master continued, the rest of his people standing silently, clearly used to this kind of speech. “And what would Prince Jin think of the people of Ghost Valley then? That we are weak and will be taken at the next attempt?” He moved closer to Zhou Zishu. “Look at me when I speak to you,” his voice sharpened like cold steel.

Zhou Zishu flicked his eyes up just as Wen Kexing flared his fan, a sweeping move that brought the sharp tip against the soft flesh of his neck. Zhou Zishu did not react. He knew he would not strike a lethal blow. He knew as he looked into those eyes that he was being tested.

His chest tightened as the floor met his face and the world went black again.

“He’s had a seizure.” A calm voice broke through the dark. “Treat him with some of this and I will give him energy infusions twice a day.”

“And what of you? What of your affliction?” Luo Fumeng’s unwavering presence came through as clear as a bell.

“What affliction? I am perfectly fine.”

“Your nose?”

A shuffle of fabric. “Ah, it is nothing.”

“That is the third time this has happened in as many days. A-Xing, are you not concerned your illness has returned?” Zhou Zishu’s senses came into focus: it was now unmistakable that the second voice was that of Wen Kexing. He almost opened his eyes on impulse, but the opportunity to hear any conversation played to his advantage.

“If it has, we shall treat it as we did then. What healed me?”

A soft tinkling of chains accompanied a cool compress gliding across Zhou Zishu’s face. “Rest. And time.”

“Both shall be in short supply, but I will manage.” The warmth of energy filled Zhou Zishu’s meridians. His breathing slowed as his body relaxed. “What of Violet Fiend? Why did she make that ungodly sound when this fool crumpled?”

“She is on edge as of late. She wants desperately to leave the valley. She likely thinks this situation will make that impossible. We could have Prince Jin at our door at any moment.” Some clinking of porcelain was followed by a stark inhale. “It is unwise to keep him.”

“Why?”

A lengthy pause sprawled as Zhou Zishu remained placid.

“He is the Prince’s cousin, Zhou Zishu.”

“Zhou Zishu,” Wen Kexing’s voice became thin as the air on a mountain.

“A-Xing,” Luo Fumeng gasped.

Zhou Zishu’s eyes flicked open in response, his arms jutting forward in reflex to steady the Ghost Valley Master. The color had drained from his face, the severe shell he once wore gone. His expression was soft, his face slack, eyes closed.

“Breathe, Master,” LuoFumeng said, her eyes darting toward Zhou Zishu as she nodded thanks for his assistance.

They had taken Zhou Zishu somewhere quiet. A few beds, fresh air, and even, impossibly, sunlight. It had the semblance of an infirmary, but Zhou Zishu did not remember such a room. Surprisingly, it was only the three of them there.

“I’m fine, yes,” Wen Kexing said, righting himself. He frowned, the icy veneer back in place. “You did not offer a satisfactory agreement. And our dungeons are at full capacity. We must start clearing the debris.”

Zhou Zishu dropped his hand, a scalded fingertip too close to the fire. “What would the great Master of Ghost Valley, Wen Kexing, request?” He intended it to be sincere, unsure of what exactly would motivate this man, but something deep inside Zhou Zishu wanted to challenge him, wanted to test him.

“Brazen, aren’t you, Master Zhou?” he said, snapping his fan open and fluttering it idly, a motion that Zhou Zishu would have originally interpreted as innocent, but was so obviously now a threat. A predator mimicking prey. “I need assurance that the great Prince Jin will not change his mind and storm the mountain immediately upon your return. The martial arts world is a horrifying mess and I do not plan to get us wrapped up in it.”

This likely meant that Wen Kexing already was. Zhou Zishu did not believe he had anything more appealing than Prince Jin’s favor to bargain. But his reputation had become one of betrayal and winning at all costs, this Zhou Zishu had contributed to personally. He needed to get his Four Season’s Manor brothers out of this hell hole and then out from under Prince Jin’s thumb. The only way to do that was to get the key. The key for their lives. That was the bargain.

“Me,” he said. “I will stay here, willingly, and be your servant, if you let the rest go. I will tell Prince Jin he must stand down, otherwise you will slit my throat.”

“And you think you are of that much value to the Prince, to keep him from trying to add the Ghost Valley to his lands?”

“Yes,” Zhou Zishu said, no question in his mind. As long as he could send word of his plan, the Prince would follow it. He had no choice.

Wen Kexing looked him over, an eerily quiet assessment. “Agreed,” he said, snapping his fan shut again. “Welcome to the Ghost Valley, A-Xu.” He turned and left with a flourish of his robes. Zhou Zishu laid back down flat, taking in the heat of the sunbeams as the reality of his current situation settled upon him.

Again, a servant to the Ghost Valley Master.

Chapter Text

They said they sent word along with the other hostages back to Prince Jin. But besides that acknowledgement, regular food and water, and the occasional brief visit by Gu Xiang, Zhou Zishu was left to rot in this slightly dressed up prison for a week. It wasn’t the first time he’d been imprisoned. He knew how to track his days and settle his mind. At least he had steady food and a bed to sleep on. That was more than most prisoners got.

On the tenth day, Luo Fumeng came down with a pile of clothing. Even being permitted the dignity of the care of basic human needs could not ward off the smell of poor hygiene. She had a soldier with her who opened the cell and she motioned Zhou Zishu out.

“Time for a bath.”

The words hit in a strange way, as if he had heard them many times before. And thinking about it, he might just have as a child. Despite the pain and suffering he had experienced here, Luo Fumeng had cared for them the best she could.

Them.

The stray thought surprised him. Was he thinking of Gu Xiang? But no - he'd been well on his way to becoming a man by the time she joined them.

He stutter-stepped and she grasped his shoulder to steady him. His legs must have weakened a little from his extended immobile state. Still, as he regained his footing, he was surprised to be allowed only Luo Fumeng as supervision.

“No one is concerned I will try to leave?” he asked, more out of curiosity than any nefarious plan.

“I told the master you would stand by your word. He plans to use you to negotiate our standing in this miserable conflict. The entire martial arts world is falling apart. No one is safe.”

This was true. Famine had swept over the land, and long term alliances were falling apart. Families had begun to turn on each other. When people could not eat or drink, they were no less savage than a pack of feral animals.

Everything was more high stakes now. Rumor claimed there was a solution to this, locked away with a shattered lock and only one key. Whoever controlled this, controlled what everyone wanted most desperately. It was the reason Zhou Zishu was there. The glazed armor was mostly retrieved, but the key was thought to be here, somewhere hidden deep within the Ghost Valley. The ghosts were the last to have been known to be with the healers who supposedly guarded it, a couple who had been left dead with no signs of it.

Prince Jin would know that Zhou Zishu had a plan. He'd been asked to write a letter confirming the agreement made, confirming his identity with his handwriting and symbols. And he had used this opportunity to place another symbol conveying the message: back down, wait for my signal.

They walked through twisty, turney tunnels, and despite there being very few markers, the pathways were worn into his mind. They were heading to the hot springs, the Ghost Valley Master’s private baths.

“Aunt Luo,” he said, in a hushed voice. “Are you trying to get my head separated from my body? Can I not go into the river just out of the west entrance as we always did?”

She shook her head. “You’re not trusted that far, Zhou-er.”

He sighed. “Please, stop, I can’t believe how silly that sounds now.”

“You were the one who insisted on it,” she said, her eyes holding a little gleam to them despite her face being placid. “You were so adamant that you were grown and deserved formality. You didn’t like A-Shu, you hated Xiao Zhou. Sometimes you must be careful what you wish for.”

“Yes, you always did like to teach lessons,” he said, his voice fond. There were terrible things about being in this place, but not Luo Fumeng. She somehow made light shine in a dark space.

“Yes, well, don’t expect anything different now. But I can at least give you the courtesy to address you as Zhou-gonzi. You are now a full grown man.”

He nodded, although it somehow felt a loss. A private joke that now was abandoned. He had wanted to be called by his family name Zhou, it was something he didn’t want to let go. But she made it cutesy to tease him for his stubbornness because Aunt Luo could. And she wasn’t alone. But, he couldn’t remember who else did it. No one who was still here, he thought for some reason.

She held out a fresh set of clothes and turned around. “You have two incense sticks to finish.”

The water was warm and Zhou Zishu sank into it easily. He had often wanted to sneak into here as a younger child. He was foolish before he had understood the wrath of the Ghost Valley Master. He even tried once didn’t, he? But no, was it him? The pit of his stomach seized and the room spun, as he discovered his hand coated in red. And then there was nothing.

The water was so deep and black when Zhou Zishu opened his eyes. And cold. Freezing. That was wrong, wasn’t the water just steaming hot? But Zhou Zishu didn’t care. It felt good. He was always so overheated, any opportunity to cool down was a gift. When he surfaced, he was greeted with the familiar giggle of a young girl. It always surprised him that she could laugh like that so often here, and yet, he was pleased. He wanted her to have as much of that as she could. They both did.

A large splash hit him from his left, and he was suddenly pulled down, the giggles exploding as if what Gu Xiang was doing was the funniest thing ever imagined. “Gotcha,” she yelled, wrapping her legs around him.

“I guess you do,” he said, the unfamiliar sound of his own laugh escaping him.

But not in this place, no. He could laugh here. This place was theirs. This place was safe.

“Come here you tiny ghostie,” he said, tickling her until she released him, and tossing her gently to splash into the water. This was their game. She would come back again and again.

“Zhou-er,” another voice called.

“Oh, come on, stop it,” he said, wiping the water from his eyes to see where it was coming from.

“Zhou-er,” the voice taunted again. “Can you see me?”

“I mean it, stop it.”

“Fine, A-Shu, come find me.”

But it didn’t matter how much he looked, Zhou Zishu couldn’t find him. He had lost him. He was nowhere to be found.

“I had to!” Gu Xiang’s voice hissed. “He almost drowned this time. We know why he’s reacting this way. If we can’t get him out of here, this is our only choice.”

“I’ve tried to convince the master he is trouble and should be sent away, but he won’t hear it. I’m concerned about him too. He needed treatment. Perhaps he will see the light once he is further along.” Luo Fumeng’s voice lowered. “Please, be careful with this. Only give him small amounts. We must only use the amount necessary to prevent these episodes. If we use more…”

Zhou Zishu sat up, dazed and unclear about what was real or what was merely a dream. It felt real. But he was no longer wet, laying in the infirmary again. And Gu Xiang was next to him, no longer a young girl, now a young woman.

“Bossy brother!” Gu Xiang shouted, jumping up and running to his side as Zhou Zishu sat up in bed. He could not help but smile at the terrible endearment, born of games they played when she was a small child, a game like the one in his dream. “Tiny ghostie,” he said, patting her hand. “I still can’t believe you remember me.”

“Of course I do! You and Ma-,” she sucked in a breath and sputtered. “You and Aunt Luo always took me to play games as a kid.” Her face fell. “There weren’t many games after you left.”

“Yes, well, I’m sorry for that.” Luo Fumeng looked paler than usual, which was definitely an accomplishment. He must have appeared dire for a moment. But why? What ailment was suddenly afflicting him here? And who was he trying to remember?

He wanted to ask, but everything about the way Luo Fumeng and Gu Xiang had been acting was even more secretive than he had remembered. The Ghost King clearly had them terrified and he did not want to put them in any more danger than necessary. If he was going to ask questions, he had to do so carefully.

But for the first time ever, he felt like he had finally grasped hold of his old memories and reclaimed them. He was not about to stop now.

Luo Fumeng was fetched by one of the masked soldiers, off at the behest of the Ghost King. Gu Xiang remained, tidying up and preparing him a meal in bed. She sat down next to him and watched him expectantly. Zhou Zishu had no choice but to sit up and grasp the bowl and spoon.

“Careful, it’s hot,” she said, with a wicked smile on her face.

Zhou Zishu frowned. “We were very stupid. We didn’t know how to take care of a young child. Thankfully Aunt Luo was there to make sure we all stayed alive.”

She shrugged. “I actually don’t even remember it. It’s just a story people often tell me. But yes, Aunt Luo was much better at feeding me, but you did well…sometimes.” Her expression suddenly changed, she looked almost wistful, but perhaps it was Zhou Zishu who felt that way.

“A-Xiang,” he said, carefully. “Do you remember swimming at the lagoon?”

Her expression returned to the huge smile she gave when she first saw him. “Yes, of course. It was some of my favorite times back then.”

“Who used to come with us when we played by the lagoon? I can’t quite remember.”

“I don’t know if anyone came with us,” she said, but she was clearly avoiding something. “We would have gotten in trouble if we were caught.”

“Is he just as ruthless as the other?”

“Who?”

“The Ghost King.”

“Oh, Master? Sometimes. When he has to be.”

Zhou Zishu couldn’t remember many details, but he didn’t recall the former Ghost King’s violence and temper to be circumstantial. But Gu Xiang did not speak of him as one she feared. And she was relatively healthy - rosy cheeked, well-fed, and mischievous. Not like someone who had their spirit trampled. That’s how it was in Zhou Zishu’s darkest of times here. Like all hope had been completely sucked out of this place.

But if things had somehow changed for the better, why were they all hiding something?

This place was immersed in secrets and everyone in here was drowning. The Ghost King rarely made his presence known in the first few days Zhou Zishu had been allowed a minuscule amount of freedom in the mountain. It felt off. Zhou Zishu expected to be beaten daily until the Ghost King was certain he would follow commands. Instead he was even left with some unsupervised time while working in the kitchen.

This job wasn’t new to Zhou Zishu. He had been forced to clean and scrub when he had been too mouthy in his youth. There was an uncle who worked in the kitchens who often would say to Zhou Zishu that there were even greater nightmares than this. It was confusing because it seemed as though he was there voluntarily, but he clearly had physical limitations that made it so he could not be part of the sentry. Instead he was given the duty of servant to the ghosts.

“A ghost’s servant is a protected position. There are others who would hurt some of us more.”

Zhou Zishu’s time in the kitchens didn’t last long. He drank the Water of Oblivion and this brought with it his obedience. He had fought it. He could remember some of his life before the Ghost Valley. His return to his cousin filled in some of the blanks. But he still had huge gaping holes from his life up until he left Ghost Valley. It was no wonder his mind was so jumbled.

His master used to say that the mind lets go what it needs to, that if he didn’t remember it was likely for the best. But Zhou Zishu could not shake the feeling that the secrets of the Ghost Valley included things he needed to know.

In his memories, the kitchen was an out of the way place where he could easily hide. But this time, one of the masked sentry’s soon found him, pointing his weapon at Zhou Zishu’s throat and ordering him to bring spirits out to the throne room. He was shoved forward at the doorway, and all in the room turned their attention to him: swathed all in red, a marker of his belonging to the Ghost King. He was being paraded in front of the ghosts. A trophy.

The Ghost King stared Zhou Zishu down as he walked toward the throne, his gaze heavy and evaluative. It felt like the Ghost King could see through him, if he just looked long enough. Zhou Zishu showed immediate deference by pouring the Ghost Valley Master a glass and bowing, backing away to leave the remaining liquor in the bottle.

He would be best off if he could fade into the background. Another sign of the Ghost King’s power, but not a threat needing notice. Still, the Ghost King glanced at him again before downing the drink. He slammed the cup on the table then rose to standing, his presence commanding the attention of all in the room. He moved gracefully as he strode across the room. He reminded Zhou Zishu of the xue bao, beautiful at a distance, but dangerous when you crossed paths.

Wen Kexing stopped in front of the row of men and women lined up across the room. Ghosts. The top ten ghosts by Zhou Zishu’s estimation. Luo Fumeng was there and Liu Qiaoqiao and a few others that he recalled cowering and hiding while he had lived here. And some new ones, perhaps those who had supported this Wen Kexing to power.

Many in the line were shifting nervously, wringing their hands and avoiding eye contact with Wen Kexing. Luo Fumeng’s face was placid, but the line between her brow made it clear that even she was worried.

“Which of you was supposed to be supervising the east entrance guards?”

A ghost draped in the color of snow, pale, lips painted white, stepped forward. Lecherous Ghost. Zhou Zishu knew of him. He was selfish and conniving. Whatever he had done, it had suited him best at the time. “Master, it was I, but they slit the throat of our best man who was keeping watch. We put out the warning immediately. We gave everyone as much forewarning as possible.”

Wen Kexing nodded. “Nothing to be done then.”

“Yes, master, exactly.”

“But you knew that the human world thinks we have the key. I warned of an attack. And yet you made no plans for defense.”

“We tried…” the man said, his voice wavering.

Zhou Zishu sucked in a breath as the Ghost King’s hand jutted out, crushing the man’s throat. The movement was quick, brutal. He twisted his wrist and there was a loud snap and the man’s body crumpled to the ground.

“I will not accept mistakes.”

He looked over at Zhou Zishu, his eyes black and cold like the mountain. He seized at the sight of Zhou Zishu, as if he had forgotten his presence, blood trickling from his mouth again.

“Get him out of here,” Wen Kexing commanded, waving Zhou Zishu away.

Zhou Zishu was dragged back to the kitchens and thrown on the floor, discarded like a soiled cloth. He was not given any grace from the interruption for his chores. Instead, he had twice as much work built up in his absence. He picked up a large bucket full of disgustingly dirty water and made his way to the waste water duct carved into the mountainside.

It was a longer journey than he remembered as a young man. Perhaps he was more easily distracted then. His cultivation was somehow stronger. It didn’t matter how much he meditated, how much he trained, he never felt as strong as he was in those years. He could never figure out why.

After dumping the filth, he made his way back toward the kitchen via an alternate route, hoping he could assess more of the mountain while having the convenient excuse of getting lost. He was about to round a new corner when he heard Gu Xiang’s voice. “Pleeease,” she said, in that way she had often begged for another sweet as a young child.

Zhou Zishu thought she must be begging Luo Fumeng and was about to interrupt and chide her like he did all those years ago when he heard a different voice. “A-Xiang, you will go to the human world, but now is not the right time. Ghost Valley is more of a target than ever. Look how vulnerable we are. Even Prince Jin’s lackeys found their way beyond our defenses.

“Oh that’s just because bossy-,” she coughed and sputtered. “I mean, I don’t think this was a normal attack. That man seems particularly crafty.”

So Gu Xiang was pretending she did not know Zhou Zishu. Probably for the best. He doubted Luo Fumeng was revealing anything about their past relationship either.

“Foolish girl, you sound like you admire him. Don’t let your guard down. He is a weapon of Prince Jin’s. He could attack at any time.”

Zhou Zishu was surprised at the warmth in the Ghost King’s voice, a man so ruthless, he snapped the neck of one of the top ten ghosts without hesitation. But his apparent admiration for Gu Xiang could explain her confident demeanor. Perhaps she had been fortunate enough to have found favor, but the chaos of the Ghost Valley could not be ruled by anyone of even temper. She was still in danger, even if it was not imminent. No matter how he got out of here, Zhou Zishu would be sure to take Gu Xiang with him this time. He would not abandon her twice.

“But Master,” she pouted. “We haven’t left the valley in so long. And the last time we did, we were able to go undetected.”

“A-Xiang, I know it’s not your strong suit, but you must be patient. I am waiting for word from our spies and if all goes according to my plan, you won’t have long to wait.”

“But what exactly are we waiting for?” she asked, stomping her foot like a petulant child.

Gu Xiang was attempting to get Wen Kexing to leave the mountain with her, which could be an advantage or disadvantage depending upon where the key was actually being kept. Zhou Zishu needed to convince Wen Kexing he was not a threat so that he either could discover the key before he left for the human world or was left with enough freedom to find it while he was away.

“Little girl,” Wen Kexing said sternly, now sounding more like a parent scolding his daughter. “We need to know more–”

Zhou Zishu had moved closer to the doorway, hoping to hear what Wen Kexing needed to know more about, but he was interrupted by heavy steps and multiple voices calling, “Master.”

It was enough activity that it made Zhou Zishu being discovered more probable. So he made his way back to the kitchen, deciding this was not the time to take risks. He needed to bide his time. If he was steady, people would begin to see him as invisible, and he’d get his chance to surveil more of the mountain.

That night he dreamt of the kitchens. It was not when he was a young man, being given duties as punishment. It was when he was a small child. He was burrowed into a small space in the far corner, a cubbyhole of protection. But he was not alone.

The fear constantly surged through him. All comfort and warmth of his life before was lost, with one exception, his shidi, whose arms were linked with his as they ate ravenously, animals protecting their scarce food source.

“A-Yan, slow down. You will be ill later,” he warned. He had promised to care for Zhen Yan and he was failing. For all he had been trained, he had so much more to learn. They were both barely staying alive.

Zhen Yan hissed as he shifted away from Zhou Zishu. He suspected a large bruise was blooming on his side where the Ghost King had beaten him for far too long. Zhou Zishu had a matching bruise on his alternate side.

At first it seemed to be that they were beaten simply for his amusement, but after some time, he began to talk of training, of sustaining the pain to be able to fight the human world. And when they were ready, they would renounce their lives and become ghosts.

It was the deep ache in the bones that was the worst of it. In the moment, the initial pain was excruciating, but the Ghost King would keep at it until their skin was numb so it didn’t truly hurt until hours after.

In the beginning, they would cling onto each other, holding onto one another’s hands. It wasn’t long before the Ghost King separated them, kept just out of reach, but still forced to witness the blood dripping from each other’s wounds and the noises of pain that escaped one another’s throats.

Zhen Yan was always so stoic the entire time. “I go into a hole in the rock,” he said, when Zhou Zishu asked him how he was so calm. “Nothing can hurt there.” He was so completely empty any time they were with the Ghost King, but in those hours later, in those times when the blistering pain came back with a vengeance, Zhou Zishu would hear him swallowing down sobs in the pitch black of night.

His shidi had not been much younger, but he had freshly lost his parents at the time. He had seen them die in front of him. Zhou Zishu knew what that could do, understood the flare of rage in his eyes, even as tears streamed down. He understood the fire inside that if let loose would burn the world.

It forced Zhou Zishu to hold it together. He was Zhen Yan’s shixiong. He had to be the stronger one. Even then, Zhen Yan didn’t let him comfort him at first. He flinched away and rolled up like a wounded animal. But with persistence, he allowed Zhou Zishu to take his hand and stroke it gently with his thumb. He remembered a song his aunt had sung to calm him when he was a small child, but he couldn’t quite remember the words. He would hum it along quietly until the sobs quieted and gave way to quiet breathing.

Zhou Zishu woke sweating, his breathing hard, his skin still tingling raw with the memory of the pain. The vision was so sharp, it was hard to comprehend he did not have it before he went to sleep. He seethed with hate, deep in his bones. Back then, he had thought he deserved what happened. He and Zhen Yan were kidnapped because Zhou Zishu had not gone with his master to the mountains to train, choosing instead to stay and indulge in childish games with his shidi, not knowing it was the last time he would ever get to be a child.

But that was all he could grasp. The deep hatred for the Ghost King that had already been inside him now twisted up with his worry for Zhen Yan, a member of his sect to whom he did not fulfill his obligation.

He had no more memories of what had happened to him, but in his heart Zhou Zishu knew that, just like Gu Xiang, he had abandoned him.

That morning Zhou Zishu was left to his new routine. He was expected in the kitchens and would be reported upon if he did not attend, but he was no longer escorted to and from his room.

When he had decided to return to this place, he thought it simple. He thought he could enact his revenge, gain a powerful asset for his cousin, and rescue Gu Xiang all at once. But he had never considered that what was murky about his past would make everything more complicated.

Zhou Zishu had always regretted leaving Gu Xiang, but whatever happened with this Zhen Yan left a weight on his chest that was immovable. He had forgotten his shidi. It was the same sort of blanks he had experienced from drinking the Water of Oblivion when he first came to the Ghost Valley. It erased your greatest regrets. But he did not remember drinking it again.

Still he was certain, he had a shidi. And he had a master. His recent dreams brought back the memory of his master trying to rescue him. His master had come to Mount Qingya. The Ghost King had captured and tortured him. Had threatened to continue if Zhou Zishu did not drink the water.

If he committed to the Ghost King there would be no more pain for his shifu. A swift death of honor, rather than a drawn out life of torture in the dungeons. Zhou Zishu did what he thought was right.

The guilt of it all now roiled inside of him. That time was now clear in his mind when it had been foggy for so many years. But how had he regained these bits of memories? It was another mystery of this place. Zhou Zishu was getting pretty fucking tired of mysteries. He was ready for answers.

Chapter Text

It was a few days before Zhou Zishu felt he could diverge again from the typical pathways where his assigned chores took him. He had slept poorly, the same memory haunting his dreams night after night. The young boy’s face, bloodied and bruised, came to his mind again and again.

He could no longer only focus only on his mission. He needed to know more about this young boy and what happened to him. Now that he had a name, he wanted to ask Gu Xiang, but she had somehow mysteriously disappeared. Zhou Zishu was about to ask Luo Fumeng if Gu Xiang and the Ghost King had left the mountain, but he was disabused of that notion when his voice came booming down the corridor, loud and angry. By Luo Fumeng’s and the other ghosts’ reactions, he was clearly on some sort of rampage. They were all uneasy, even more so than the day he was in the throne room.

Luo Fumeng found him in the kitchen and gave him a stern look. “I know you’re up to something, but you need to be patient and let me persuade our master to let you go.”

“Does he remember I’m even here?” he asked, dipping another dirty dish into the wash bucket. “You know I can be more useful than cleaning.”

“I don’t think you want to prove yourself useful. That would have the opposite of the intended effect.”

“Perhaps yours,” he said, glancing up at her. Her face was cold, but she could not hide the glint of amusement in her eyes. They both knew he was not a captive in distress here, even if riding this place of Zhou Zishu would certainly make Luo Fumeng’s life less complicated. He set the clean dish on the rack with the pile he’d been cleaning. “Are there others on your borders? My spies had seen some strange activity to the south. Those blood-thirsty wretches sent by the Scorpions.”

Her expression shifted. “The drugmen belong to the Scorpions?”

He nodded, plunging another dish into the murky water. “It’s been too long since you’ve been in the human world, Aunt Luo. There are enemies on all sides. You are rumored to have what they want the most in this world. You won’t go unscathed.”

“And what do you propose to do to help us?”

“Take the attention elsewhere. If you don’t have what they want here. There is no reason to bother you.”

“Master will never agree to it.”

“It can be done without his compliance.”

“Zhou Zishu, you risk everything we have here just with your presence. You have no idea the threat you bring…” she flicked her golden nails, grasping the material of her sleeve tightly.

“Master,” a soft voice interrupted them. “The Ghost King is seeking your counsel.” It was Alluring Ghost. She was one of the current ranks of the top ten ghosts. She had joined this place after Zhou Zishu was long gone. She was very beautiful, as was her reputation, but unlike her reputation, she bore an angry scar across the side of her face. It made her no less beautiful in Zhou Zishu’s opinion and much more interesting. Her countenance was yet another reminder that the rumors about Ghost Valley were never the full truth - they were always bent and twisted versions that served some sort of purpose.

Luo Fumeng nodded at her maid and said to Zhou Zishu flatly, “I can do my best to direct attention away from you. Nothing more. But you must promise to do whatever you can to leave this place in the same condition you have found it.”

It was an interesting request. She clearly thought that Zhou Zishu was there to tear this place apart. He had presumed he no longer had a reason to want that result, but asking such made him question his assumptions. Still he nodded in agreement. What choice did he have? She took his assent and exited without another word.

“Wait,” he said to the woman remaining. “You are Liu Qianqiao?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice clearly hesitant.

“You are loyal to Aunt Luo,” he said. He had heard of their relationship. Luo Fumeng had acquired much power since his departure as the Master of the Annals of the Scorned and Alluring Ghost was her most trusted follower.

Her expression flicked with surprise. Even if she was aware of their history, his familiar address of Luo Fumeng was unexpected. “What do you want with me? I have no interest in your games.”

“You heard our conversation. I have no intention of hurting her or you. I am trying to help.”

She made a disbelieving noise and pulled her shawl around her shoulders tighter, but she did not move, waiting to hear him out.

“I simply need to ask, what do you know of Zhen Yan? Have you heard this name? Do you know him?”

She shook her head. “That name is not familiar. I do not know him.” Her denial was firm and clear, unlike so many shaky answers he had received from others. Unless she was the most skilled liar Zhou Zishu had ever met, she was telling the truth.

“And when did you come to Ghost Valley?”

“It’s been almost a decade now. Not long after our Master killed the former Ghost King.”

“And what do you know of that?”

It was clearly too many questions, she moved a small step backward and shook her head. “I wasn’t here. But you know Master was. If you want to know, you need to ask her.”

There it was. The hedging.

“For some reason no one seems to want to speak of this.The Ghost King does not want to celebrate his glory? Would this not be his greatest triumph?”

“The ghosts all recognize the Ghost King’s power. They say you used to live in the Ghost Valley, then you must know. Everyone is here because they do not want to revisit the past. “

She said it as if it was simple. Obvious. But Zhou Zishu knew for certain, the truth of this place was neither of those things.

If he was not going to be allowed near the Ghost King, he would have to start his search elsewhere. Zhou Zishu had surmised that if the Ghost Valley did have the key to the World’s Armory, it would likely be in one of three places. He had drawn out a map from memory to consider where to explore first. There was an arms room slightly to the east of the throne room that was likely the most secure because he couldn’t remember ever going inside of it, but that could also be the most obvious, and therefore least likely place for it.

There was a storage room with various cabinets of parchments and scrolls that was located at a less traversed part of the mountain to the west. It was remote enough that anyone without foreknowledge may not be able to even find their way there. It was a good possibility, but also very difficult to get to without being permitted by someone.

And finally, the Ghost King’s own rooms deep into the heart of the mountain. Zhou Zishu was aware of the servant shifts that went in and out of his rooms on a regular basis. He was taken there himself by Luo Fumeng to bathe in his early time here. It was a place with easy access for certain people. The Ghost King was likely a suspicious man, and although the other areas were more secure, he could very likely be keeping the key in a place where he was able to closely watch it.

After fully assessing all three options he set off on gathering information from the servants, who were often the best source of information in any village or manor. These talked much more than they should based on how much they depended on the Ghost Valley for their survival. It helped that some of the elders remembered him and thought of him affectionately, and their influence seemed to garner him some level of candor from the others.

But none of them would talk of Zhen Yan. Many had no idea who he was, but others seemed almost terrified at the reference. Still, none would admit to knowing the name.

He had another hour before the midday meal preparation would begin. It was enough time to at least wander in the direction of the arms room to do some reconnaissance. He had the vaguest of recollections of large severe doors and regular guards.

“He’s been asking so many questions,” he heard Gu Xiang’s voice waft in from the cavern connecting the tunnels to the great hall. “The servants are getting nervous.”

Zhou Zishu moved closer to the doorway to better hear them. Luo Fumeng sighed. “He has never been one to listen.”

“He’s asking about Zhen Yan,” Liu Qingqiao added.

“What? How can that be? His treatment has been minimal.” Luo Fumeng’s voice was full of more concern than he recalled ever hearing before. “Master has already been on edge. If he learns of this, who knows what will happen.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” the cold of the voice creeped up Zhou Zishu’s spine. Before he could react, the Ghost King’s hands were on his throat pushing him against the hard stone of the wall. “You really have made yourself home here.”

The Ghost King’s grip was strong, solidly crushing his windpipe. Zhou Zishu tried to speak, but he was only able to make a hollow gasping noise. He grabbed Wen Kexing’s wrists and thrust, attempting to push him off his body, but Zhou Zishu had been weakened, his energy depleted.

“You show no respect for us here. You still haven’t answered my question. What are you doing out here?”

His eyes were so cold, like there was no light left in him. Zhou Zishu had no weapons, no way to gain the upper hand, except by lighting the fuse everyone else wanted to avoid.

There was blood again, pooling at the corner of Wen Kexing’s mouth. He was not as strong as he wanted others to believe. Maybe all he needed was a little push.

“Looking,” Zhou Zishu gasped, wiggling to get space to speak. “Looking for my shidi.”

Wen Kexing’s expression was one of confusion. “What are you on about?”

“What did you do with Zhen Yan?” Zhou Zishu spat.

Wen Kexing’s body recoiled. Zhou Zishu had thought perhaps the question would throw him off balance and he would use that to make his escape, but what happened was more like an implosion. He had never seen a person crumple quite like that. Wen Kexing folded over and collapsed on the floor, coughing up pools of blood.

“A-Xu,” he wheezed, as he coughed another mouthful of blood onto the floor.

“Master!” the women of the Annals of the Scorned came running from the other room. “What happened?” Luo Fumeng asked, trying to wake Wen Kexing, but unable to do so.

Zhou Zishu gaped at the scene. The man who all the servants here idolized, presented as indestructible, had something seriously wrong with him.

If the human world found this out, this place would be leveled to the ground.

“I told you to not call attention to yourself,” Luo Fumeng scolded as they made their way through the tunnels in the south and out to the fields. “You could be out in the fields for months.”

There were work camps out on the lower lands where the servants farmed and gathered supplies. Zhou Zishu had worked there during his late teenage years. This type of labor was his first assignment before being allowed out in the human world to prove he could be trusted at more than arm's length.

Although it had nothing to do with trust. The former Ghost King used the threat of hurting Gu Xiang to keep him in line. Once, he had spent time away, exploring the village and considering how he might earn money quickly and take Gu Xiang away. He came back well beyond sundown and returned to Gu Xiang having a long angry cut on her arm. The Ghost King had allowed her a dagger at the tender age of six, claiming she did not have the luxury of being unarmed. He emphasized how easy it was for her to come to harm, how fragile she was. The message was clear. Zhou Zishu never left her for long after that day. Until he left her forever.

Even now that fact made no sense when Zhou Zishu faced it. He couldn’t picture himself leaving, even if he was hurt. He hated that it was how they had parted. And he had been such a coward to not return sooner.

“I need to gather some herbs for Master’s treatment and then I’ll see you off.”

“What sort of treatment?” Zhou Zishu asked. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Never you mind that.”

“Whatever is wrong with him, it puts all of you at risk. He’s weak.”

“It’s nothing. The treatment I’m making will heal him. And when he is back to himself, you will need to watch yourself. He would have crushed your windpipe if he hadn’t had an attack.”

“Why did you say that he would not like me asking about Zhen Yan?”

She sighed. It was the same noise she made when he was a teenager and he asked too many questions about what the Ghost King was planning. It was exasperation, worry and resignation twisted into a telling medley. “Where did you hear that name?”

“How would I not know it? He was my shidi. What happened to him?”

“He’s gone. Do not ask more questions. The Ghost King has ensured he will never return.”

The road diverged in a familiar fork, an overgrown path shooting off to a place that Zhou Zishu immediately recognized.

“That is the way to the lagoon.”

“Yes, not many come this way anymore as it’s hard to secure the full borders. We station our guards around our crops. There is more looting with the scarcity of food. The water in the lagoon has mostly dried up anyway.”

“Can I stay here and recharge my energy before I get worked to the bone?”

“Do as you wish. The village is only five li from here. I won’t be upset if you are not here when I return.”

As Luo Fumeng left, Zhou Zishu wondered if this was the plan all along. Had he been banished by the Ghost King or had she brought him here in hopes that he would return to Prince Jin?

She was underestimating his determination if she thought a little manual labor would send him on his way. He searched for an area on the grass that was not completely dried and brittle, only finding a spot that felt more like the cushion of straw than rough twigs.

Even as the lands looked more stark and barren, they still smelled the same. It was much more subtle than he recalled, but the wild grass had a scent of something sweet and earthy. And the frogs still chirped and the birds still sang. The life was still there, trying to fight its way back.

As he opened himself to it, the energy he once lived and breathed. It took hold of his mind and scattered it to the wind.

It was a day when the sky was the bluest of blues. So rich that you wanted to just simply get lost in it. Clouds so puffy and white that when you looked at them you thought that you could never see something so pure, so perfect ever again.

They had run through the paths in the fields, bobbing and dodging each other. Zhou Zishu was supposed to catch him, but he had longer legs and was faster. But he was impulsive in his decisions and if Zhou Zishu just waited long enough, he could anticipate where he was going and cut him off at the path.

And they did this every time, Zhou Zishu jumping out and wrestling his shidi until he had his arms pinned behind him and he gave in. Sometimes it seemed like a fair game, and at others, Zhou Zishu could swear his shidi let Zhou Zishu catch him.

They were both drenched in sweat from the effort. His shidi looked up at the sky, the sun high overhead and said, “We still have some time, let’s take a swim.”

Zhou Zishu nodded, it would feel good to cool off. They had gone there hundreds of times before, from when they were quite young, him only 11, his shidi only 10, and now that they were men of 21 and 20, nothing much had changed, except their ability to sneak away undetected had been honed.

The splashed and played in the cool water, his shidi still acting as though they were playing some game of chase and catch. He laughed loudly, gregarious and daring. He was always hard to contain, every bit of his life force constantly bursting out of him. It was a glorious sight, but also the source of so much of his pain. The master did not like how hot his light burned and he was constantly trying to dim it.

“Shixiong,” his voice called and Zhou Zishu realized he had disappeared yet again.

He sighed. “Shidi, where are you? You know we shouldn’t separate. We have to always be on alert.”

“I’m back here, Shixiong,” he called, waving a hand out from behind the waterfall that was spilling down from the rocks above. It was not a forceful one. They often washed themselves under it, but still, they had only explored behind it a few times.

Zhou Zishu climbed out of the lagoon, pulling himself up on the rocks and carefully making his way over to where his shidi was. He hauled on Zhou Zishu’s arm and dragged him behind the water. He was still soaking wet, his hair weighed down by the water and dripping. “Look,” he said pointing up.

Above them where the sunlight was cutting through the water and the mist of the waterfall was a rainbow, shimmering. Zhou Zishu stopped, letting out a slow breath. The small glimpses of beauty were few and far between. They had never climbed this far behind the waterfall before. They usually had Gu Xiang with them and didn’t want to risk her falling and getting hurt. But the two of them slid along the stones, making their way to a small pool in the cave behind the falls. The water was warmer there. Another hot spring hidden in the rocks.

“Come on, Shixiong,” he called Zhou Zishu over and waded into the water. When he got close to the edge he was pulled in fully, his shidi’s wicked laugh echoing in the dark cave.

“Zhen Yan, you need to be careful.”

“Why, when you are here to protect me, A-Shu?” he said, smiling widely.

Zhou Zishu was still holding onto Zhen Yan’s wrist. The closeness allowed him to read his spiritual energy, which was coursing through him, strong and rapid.

Zhen Yan was breathing hard, but it didn’t seem to be due to any physical effort. It was just being this close. They had been walking some sort of line. They had grown up depending on each other, caring for each other and then, something changed. The way Zhen Yan looked at Zhou Zishu was now different and it made Zhou Zishu understand that he was seeing Zhen Yan differently as well.

But this was not allowed. The Ghost King would not permit this kind of relationship. He had been trying to pit them against one another. Not bring them closer.

Zhen Yan did not come outright and express how he felt, but he asked questions. Questions about bodies. Questions about loyalty. Questions about love. He always looked to Zhou Zishu as if he had answers to all the world’s questions, but this was not a topic Zhou Zishu understood any more than him.

Zhou Zishu always danced around the questions, even when he felt Zhen Yan’s eyes on him, heavy and expectant. He did what he could to keep things the way they had been, to be responsible for his shidi. To take care of him as he had always promised to do.

He did not expect it when Zhen Yan grabbed the back of his head and pulled him close, pressing their lips together. He did not expect the way his body reacted without his permission, returning the kiss that had been waiting on his lips for so long. He did not expect to feel safe when Zhen Yan touched him in this new and different way.

But he did.

“Yan-er,” he whispered. “This isn’t smart.”

“Do you not feel as I feel? Haven’t we not been smart for so long?”

Zhou Zhishu brushed the heavy damp strands of hair away from his face. His deep, determined eyes. He was always so damn stubborn.

“We aren’t children anymore, Shixiong. We have the right to live our lives as we please. We can fight him.”

Zhou Zishu shook his head. He didn’t believe in the future that Zhen Yan saw for them, but he wished to. And somehow, his shidi knew. He knew that Zhou Zishu had already given into him fully, even without a word. Zhen Yan kissed him, this time harder, more intense, his hands wandering to places where they had never touched each other before, even if Zhou Zishu might have sometimes allowed himself to imagine it.

Their bodies pressed hard against one another and it felt better than anything he had ever experienced, simply the two of them together holding each other, moving against each other in the warm springs, their mouths finding the way to other places down their necks, down their bodies, until they both were fully and completely spent.

They made their way back out to the lagoon and out to the path. They laughed as their fingers tangled with each other, playfully catching and releasing each other as before, but this time with more purpose, more awareness of what they were both doing.

“Shidi,” Zhou Zishu said, waving him over to a patch of soft grass amongst a field of yellow dandelions. He pointed to the sky, the bright blue sky that he had admired earlier, that seemed even more dazzling as his view of everything had completely changed. He breathed in this feeling and dropped down on the ground. “Come on,” Zhou Zishu said, pulling at his legs.

Zhen Yan laid down next to him, staring up in the sky along with him. The clouds had become thick and cottony, slowly moving across the swath of blue. They were the type of clouds that shifted and rolled, transforming into the most interesting shapes and stories.

“Look, A-Shu,” Zhen Yan said. “Is that not the most fascinating dragon?”

Zhou Zishu leaned where he was pointing, not necessarily needing to press their heads together as they both evaluated the clouds floating by, but doing so anyway.

“I wish we did not have to return,” Zhen Yan said with a sigh. But they both knew the truth. If they did not return, Gu Xiang would be in danger.

The wind had picked up, whipping their hair around even as they laid as flat as they could in the grass. A strong gust trailed over the field, catching the puffy white fluff of the willows that were shedding seeds.

“I wish we could be like those willow seeds - dancing on the breeze, going wherever the wind takes us,” Zhou Zishu said, his own voice taking on the same quality that Zhen Yan’s did when he told Gu Xiang a bedtime story.

Zhen Yan rolled up on his side, propping his head in his hand. “Would that make you A-Xu, then?” he said with a grin.*

“Funny,” Zhou Zishu said, grabbing the brightest yellow dandelion within reach and tucking it into the hair pulled tight by Zhen Yan’s hairpin. Those sharp eyes, those that others rightly feared, sparkled for Zhou Zishu. And it pleased him greatly. “And would you come with me? A traveling wanderer?”

“Wherever you go, I will follow.”

Zhou Zishu rolled his eyes and fell onto his back again. “Ridiculous,” he said, but he did not hide his fondness. “If you stop your foolishness, we can stay here for a bit longer.”

At this, Zhen Yan moved his head onto Zhou Zishu’s shoulder and quietly watched the clouds go by until the sun was lowering and they had no choice but to return to the mountain where the Ghost King was waiting for them.

His eyes flung open, stinging with the salt of the wetness filling them. The energy that he had been circulating tightened, as if it was going to strangle him. It took all his power and focus to release it and come back to himself.

There was a panic that rose in him when he tried to remember Zhen Yan’s face. The vision itself in his mind’s eye was fuzzy, he could not bring to him how he looked, but the feelings he had settled into his bones.

It was hard to hold himself upright as he was flooded with an emotion he had thought himself incapable of feeling. And with the absolute elation he felt came something else. The immediate fall into the abyss, choking on the loss of something he hadn’t known he once had.

Zhen Yan had been his shidi, his light, his center, his zhiji. And he was ripped away somehow. Whoever was responsible, Zhou Zishu was going to find out and make them pay.

Chapter Text

Zhou Zishu was called back to the mountain after only a few nights. When he returned, he was told he would be reassigned from the kitchens. No reason was given for this change and Luo Fumeng was occupied according to anyone he asked.

He was so happy to see Gu Xiang’s bright smile when she showed up at his door. She did a little twirl for him when she walked into his room. “Do you like my new robes? Master sent for them.” She smoothed them out again and twisted back and forth to allow the skirts to flare.

Zhou Zishu had thought his life to be satisfactory. He had his duty and he accomplished what was required of him. But it was not until he returned here that he could remember that this place held more than pain for him. His life in the palace, his days in the Window of Heaven had been washed out, a muted cloudy day. Gu Xiang brought back color like the buds in the spring.

“Stunning,” he said. He could not help feeling proud at the impressive young woman she had become. He knew he could not take any of the credit, but he still felt as her older brother and he strongly wanted to protect her and see her thrive. “Is this to wear to the town?”

She shrugged. “Master says we will go again eventually, but it isn’t safe now.”

“Does that mean he’s better?” Zhou Zishu asked, hoping she would be more willing to talk about his condition than Luo Fumeng had been.

“Oh,” she said, seemingly surprised at the question. “You heard about his illness?”

“I was there when he had his most recent attack,” he said, trying to sound concerned. “He is on the mend, then?”

“He will be fine. He’s had this affliction since I was young. It comes and goes. And Aunt Luo has a treatment for it this time, so he should heal quickly.”

When Zhou Zishu left the Ghost Valley, Gu Xiang was only seven. This confirmed Liu Qingqiao’s report that this Ghost King came to power very soon after he had left. He wanted to know more, but too many direct questions had shut everyone down, even Gu Xiang.

If this affliction was not new, then perhaps Ghost Valley was not at as serious of a risk as Zhou Zishu had feared. Still, any weakness could be exploited. In fact, Zhou Zishu himself planned on it. Others would not consider Gu Xiang and Luo Fumeng’s lives if this was discovered.

“Do you truly care about your Master?” Zhou Zishu asked.

“Yes, silly. He’s cared for me just as much as you have, bossy brother.” She gave him a little shove. “Now come on, it’s time to take you to your new job.”

Gu Xiang had been sent to escort him to the book room. It was not a room that existed when Zhou Zishu had been here. The Ghost Valley Master did not encourage them to read or write, although Zhou Zishu had known how to do both. All of his tactics were in the category of brute force. Anything that required some level of precision or intelligence was seen as a threat.

It was not until they were outside the doors that Zhou Zishu understood this was a place he had been before. Walking into the old storage room was like somehow leaving Mount Qingya. Zhou Zishu’s memory of this room was dark and dreary. This room was now filled with rich polished wood shelves, lined with rows and rows of books. Zhou Zishu walked along one of the shelves, trailing a finger over the bindings. These were great classics put to page. Poetry, politics, philosophy, martial arts, cultivation. Any topic Zhou Zishu had ever been curious to learn about had a large catalog of sources.

He continued to the back of the room, moving with purpose as though some sort of invisible force was dragging him there. He arrived at a spot with pillows, brightly colored, clearly for sitting and reading. It looked soft, cozy…comfortable. It was so jarring to see something so pleasing in this place. And that was nothing compared to how he felt when he understood what was detailed on the mural on the wall behind the seating area.

Azaleas in the spring, summer phoenix flowers, orange osthamus in fall, winter plums in the snow. The four seasons depicted in flowers, the signs of his sect. They had long since all passed, foolishly following Zhou Zishu to Prince Jin’s side when they had learned of him still being alive.

The keeper who was stationed by the door joined Zhou Zishu. “It’s lovely, isn’t it? But you should see it at sunset. The master found a stone to place in the western wall.” He pointed above in the rock at a point high up where the wall texture looked a little different. “It’s something quite unusual.”

Zhou Zishu squinted at the spot, but did not understand what could be so different in merely a few hours.

“This used to be a simple storage room. Why are there so many books here now?”

“Ah yes, I had heard you were a ghost returned. Master loves to read. He prides himself on his education, despite being mostly self-taught.”

Zhou Zishu wandered through the rows of books, filled with a strange feeling of displacement. He had expected this place to be the same and it was now completely transformed. Not only was it different, but it had changed in a way that would have been a comfort when he was there years ago. He felt instant regret for not being able to make a place like this for Gu Xiang and Zhen Yan.

It had been this new Ghost King who had done this. No matter how he appeared, he seemed to have a kindness in him that Zhou Zishu had never imagined a Ghost Valley Master could possess.

Zhou Zishu did not like it. Pieces that did not fit in the puzzle were always problems. It meant there was more to be discovered.

Zhou Zishu was surprised at the number of his favorite books he found on the shelves. He grabbed a few and tucked them into his sleeves as he sorted through the shelves and organized them during his working hours.

His new job had one distinct additional benefit - allowing him to do some research about the herbs that Luo Fumeng had been gathering in the fields. In his short time away from the mountain, the servants were still insistent on lighting the same incense he had been sleeping with in the mountain. Left on his own to inspect it closer, he was sure the herbal concoction was more than a mere sleep aid.

One of the elder women who would treat the blisters and small injuries of the field workers identified the herbs just from the smell. “Ah, some of these were in the supplies that Master Luo took back to the mountain. Very strong and potent on their own. But together, I am not familiar with their uses.”

He had identified a few that he had already used in his time with the Window of Heaven. But many had different properties depending on the dosage and even the way it was administered. It would take time and study to understand. In the meantime, he subtly dumped the incense he was given at night, not wanting to figure out what he was being given too late. He did not want to believe that Luo Fumeng would allow him to take anything harmful, but he had put her in a terrible position and she was a survivor. He would be a fool to not consider she would do what was necessary to keep them all safe, even from him.

After a few hours of work, Gu Xiang brought him something to eat. It had been a few days since she had taken him to his new assignment and she seemed interested in finding out how Zhou Zishu was fairing.

“Have you not spent much time here?” he asked, biting into the bread she shared with him.

She shrugged. “When I was forced to study. But I’d rather practice martial arts.”

“You must have strength in both,” he said, waving his finger at her.

“Yes, yes, Master says so too.” She rolled her eyes. “You two are too much alike.”

Zhou Zishu tried not to balk at this. Gu Xiang had been clear about her affection for this maniac and he did not want to cause her any more stress or arouse any more suspicion.

Instead, he shifted focus. “Is he still ill?”

“He’s much better than he was,” she said, taking her own bite of the bread.

“Do you know what was wrong?”

She shrugged. “It happens sometimes. But it’s been so long since Master has been sick like this. I think he’s been working too hard. He’s our best healer so when he is ill, the rest of us have to do what we can to take care of him.”

“I’d like to visit him, give him my regards. Show him that I am remorseful about the conflict we had.”

Gu Xiang tilted her head, considering the request. “Sure. He would likely enjoy the company,” she said, smiling brightly.

“What are you two prattling on about?” Wen Kexing said, sitting up in bed and cradling his head in his hand as they walked into his room. “I could hear you a li away in the tunnel. You’re so noisy, you could wake the dead.”

“And so we have,” Zhou Zishu said under his breath.

The Ghost King appeared to have miraculous hearing because he shifted his attention toward Zhou Zishu and gave him a stern look. But it only took moments to melt away, leaving something strange behind. Zhou Zishu couldn’t read it.

He quickly bowed, getting as low as he could to show his deference. Zhou Zishu could easily be kicked out at any moment so he knew he should be more careful.

“Master!” Gu Xiang said, skipping toward him. “You’re awake again! You have been asleep for days this time.”

“Yes, well, clearly I needed my rest.” He took a cup of water Gu Xiang offered him, but his eyes were still trained on Zhou Zishu as he rose from the ground. Perhaps he suspected Zhou Zishu of drugging him because he appeared determined to watch every movement he made.

It was a distinct shift. Wen Kexing had barely wanted to look at Zhou Zishu the few times they had been in the same room together and now, he wasn’t looking away. “Did you bring that to read?” he asked, nodding toward the book in Zhou Zishu’s hand.

Gu Xiang grinned. “I thought he could keep you company while you rested. You need to stay here and I know you’ll leave if you get bored.”

“I suppose a literate servant is of more use reading than in the fields,” he said, putting the water glass back down on the tray beside his bed and laying back.

“You’d like me to read, Master?” Zhou Zishu said, holding the book up.

Wen Kexing gave a little wave of assent so Zhou Zishu sat down on a platform beside the bed. The book was a classic he remembered reading as a child, even before he came to Ghost Valley. Wen Kexing watched him as he sat reading, almost as if he was waiting for him to make a sudden move. Gu Xiang sat on the bed next to Wen Kexing, patting his head dry and making all manner of fuss over him.

Zhou Zishu was struck yet again on how much she seemed to care for him. It sent a strange zing through him as the thought settled in his mind that this man had come and taken Zhou Zishu’s place even after the handful of years he had spent taking on the role of brother to her. It was a strange sort of jealousy, born of guilt and regret.

His initial surprise of Gu Xiang admiring such a cold, calculating man was now clearly born of foolish emotions. It was not as if Zhou Zishu had ever been a saint. He had done many terrible things in the name of protecting himself, this little sister, Luo Fumeng, his brothers from the four seasons manor who had followed him into the Window of Heaven. You had to be cruel in this world to protect any spark of goodness that could survive its horrors.

As Zhou Zishu continued to read, Wen Kexing eventually settled, only reacting occasionally to Zhou Zishu’s words as he seemed to drift in and out of consciousness. Gu Xiang even left them alone after a few hours, which seemed so very foolish, but Wen Kexing had insisted that she go practice her martial arts which she had delayed to keep an eye on Wen Kexing and make sure he was fed to the brim.

The Ghost King’s rooms were more lively than he had remembered the prior’s to be. He seemed to enjoy fine things - there were beautiful tapestries draped over his bed, paintings of waterfalls hung on the walls, rows of beautiful ornaments on his dressing table.

One in particular caught Zhou Zishu’s attention. A beautiful ivory hair pin. The piece of adornment gave him a sense of warmth and security. Perhaps his mother wore one like this and it was yet another memory he was no longer allowed to have.

Every item in this room felt specially selected. Zhou Zishu suspected Wen Kexing’s bedding was even made of the same fine silks as his robes. Whatever the Ghost Valley had been doing since he had left had been successful. There was wealth here that had not been before.

And it wasn’t just for the Ghost Valley Master. The clothes worn by the Annals of the Scorned were gorgeous, befitting of their status of lofty women exacting vengeance. Even Gu Xiang seemed well kept, now that Zhou Zishu thought of it.

Wen Kexing had fallen into a fitful sleep, mumbling to himself as sweat beaded on his forehead. Zhou Zishu quickly went to his side. He had no plans to make his move yet and his questionable interaction with Wen Kexing prior to his being sent away seemed to be forgotten in the midst of his budding illness, so he decided that he would again bide his time, now being given more ready access to him.

Zhou Zishu grabbed the cloth on the bedside table and dipped it in the water basin. He patted him lightly, carefully, as Wen Kexing murmured unintelligible things and thrashed and then wailed. At this Zhou Zishu tried to wake him, but it was of no use. He seemed to move through whatever violence was in his mind and settle again, drifting off to a more steady sleep.

It was at that point when Zhou Zishu noticed the glimmering around his neck. A gold chain that barely peaked out of his neckline. It did not seem typical of a man who liked to flaunt his wealth to wear jewelry that was ultimately concealed and it made Zhou Zishu curious as to what was on it.

But that curiosity would have to wait. There was no way of seeing it without moving Wen Kexing’s robes and he had caused enough suspicion already. He needed to be more patient. Based on his current visit to the old storage room, it didn’t not seem that the key was being kept there. So that eliminated one possibility. He needed to find a way into the arms room, but now that he had access to the Ghost King’s rooms, it was most prudent to focus his efforts here.

And so his days went for a time, working in the book room organizing and filing away books that had been taken and returned, finding new books on herbs to research, finding new collections of poetry to read to Wen Kexing. He seemed particularly interested in anything that was clever, yet meaningful. He often would recite along with Zhou Zishu as he read, seeming to have committed half the contents of the book room to memory.

Zhou Zishu would sometimes still be tasked with work in the kitchens, but that was less and less, and always in service to the Ghost King specifically. These days would give him a chance to go to the infirmary and check on their herb supplies, inspecting and searching for those he had discovered in his research.

Even after Wen Kexing stopped his bed rest, Zhou Zishu was allowed to come to his rooms to read once a day. It was clear to everyone he had found favor, and this had allowed him to spend more time inspecting the Ghost King’s rooms freely. So on the day that his personal servant was delayed, Zhou Zishu did not hesitate to offer to help Wen Kexing prepare for his bath.

Wen Kexing waved him off. “It can wait,” he said, sitting back down on his bed.

“There’s no need. This servant is capable of assisting you.” He moved to Wen Kexing’s wardrobe and removed a fresh set of under robes, draping it over his arm. He then bowed, holding out his arm to invite Wen Kexing to move in the direction of the hot springs located not far down the tunnel, where Luo Fumeng had taken him all those weeks ago. “I can be respectful.”

Wen Kexing snorted. It sounded distinctly like a mocking noise. Although Wen Kexing had seemed to accept Zhou Zishu’s presence, he hardly believed he would deem to tease him in the way he affectionately did Gu Xiang.

Still, when they came to the cavern, Zhou Zishu moved to the water’s edge and held out his arms. When Wen Kexing approached him, Zhou Zishu made a point to exaggeratedly cover his eyes with his hand after he accepted his outer layer of robes.

“I’m not shy,” Wen Kexing said. “And I’d prefer you not fall face first into this water. The infirmary supplies are dwindling.”

Zhou Zishu opened his eyes to offer that he also was not shy, but he was derailed by the flick of Wen Kexing’s under robes as they were dropped across his arms.

And despite the fact that he truly was not shy, he could not help but deflect his eyes in response to a fully naked Wen Kexing in front of him. Zhou Zishu was already well aware of how handsome he was. It was something Zhou Zishu had watched him use to his advantage when dealing with the other ghosts. And he had heard stories of his trips to the human world where many fell over themselves to gain his attention.

But he presented himself as a man who was more interested in the exertion of his mind than the exertion of his body, so the fact that he was lean and muscular was indeed a surprise. Zhou Zishu found his eyes sliding over him and then away again. It was a sight much more pleasing than he had anticipated.

Once he got past the surprise and composed himself, he noticed that Wen Kexing was naked with the exception of one notable object - the chain that Zhou Zishu now knew he always wore, which he could now see was stringing a golden key from it. His first impulse was to reach out and snatch it away. He had been waiting so long to find it and it had been right here around the Ghost King’s neck all along.

“Would you like more time to commit this to memory?” he asked, a sly smile on his lips.

Zhou Zishu was startled, having obviously been staring, but not in the way that Wen Kexing had thought. “That’s foolish,” Zhou Zishu said before he caught himself.

Wen Kexing stepped into the bath slowly. “Interesting. A-Xu isn’t normally one to play the fool.”

Zhou Zishu turned around to face away from the water. “This humble servant will play whatever Master wishes.”

“Will you?” Wen Kexing asked, his voice dancing with amusement. “I do enjoy playing.”

The sounds of the water lapping and swirling echoed through the cavern behind him. Zhou Zishu stood obediently waiting, uncertain what this man truly wanted from him.

“I think you enjoy playing too,” he said finally. “Else you would have left this place long ago. You’ve had more than one chance to leave and yet you’ve stayed.” The water sloshed again, followed by the sound of drops splashing on the rocks. “There’s something you want here. I’m just not sure what it is yet,” Wen Kexing’s voice was now deep, thick with interest and right behind him.

Zhou Zishu turned back to face Wen Kexing, his eyes deflected again, holding out the fresh robe. Wen Kexing allowed him to drape it over him. Once Wen Kexing was fully robed again, Zhou Zishu said, “I suppose that’s something we have in common then. Wanting to figure out what the other wants.”

Wen Kexing smirked, stepping forward to return to his rooms. He made a hand gesture that would be considered seductive by any standards, beckoning Zhou Zishu to follow. Upon entering his room again, he sat down at his dressing table, selecting one of many fine combs and brushing through the strands of his wet hair.

“Allow me,” Zhou Zishu said, taking the comb and gently moving it through Wen Kexing’s long, silky hair. He sat quietly as Zhou Zishu diligently eased out any tangle and separated sections of hair over his shoulders to make sure he did not miss any of it.

The chain with the key still hung around his neck. This was the closest he had been allowed to be to Wen Kexing and still Zhou Zishu would not be able to be quick enough to grasp the chain from where it hung on his body. He would need to be able to distract him to get the chance to get to it.

Zhou Zishu had experience with such missions before. There were only a few ways to remove a precious object from a man’s body. It involved incapacitating them in one of three ways - drugging them, subduing them, or seducing them. Sometimes, when it was a more complicated situation, it could involve all three.

Although Wen Kexing enjoyed his drink, he was the suspicious sort. Any kinds of drugs he would be able to obtain in the mountain would be hard to conceal from him. He could use the knife he now kept strapped to his leg. He had procured it from the kitchens when he was given an opportunity, not wanting again to be left unarmed in the face of the Ghost King’s erratic behavior. But if he tried to take it by force he would need an immediate way to exit this place, which was not likely to be possible. That left the last option. Seduction only worked on a willing participant, but based on the way Wen Kexing’s eyes continued to fall upon him, he suspected this was the most prudent plan.

Still, he could test this idea slowly. As he moved Wen Kexing’s hair, he let his fingertips move over his neck, gentle touches to tease, to see how receptive Wen Kexing might be to this. At first he seemed to pay no mind, as though the incidental touches Zhou Zishu gave were no different than how he had served him before.

But he persisted. He would take any opportunity when he served him drinks to brush against his fingers, any chance to sweep his hair aside and comb his fingers through it, any possibility of a closer proximity or touch, Zhou Zishu would take it.

The first reaction he noticed was a small hum Wen Kexing made when trailed his fingers down his under robes as he helped him dress. It was unquestionably unnecessary and forward, but Wen Kexing did not say a word.

This continued. Zhou Zishu reading and settling himself into Wen Kexing’s daily routine. He had found his way to the foot of his bed when he read, a place he would never have thought before he would be able to occupy. Zhou Zishu had finished two books he had found in the book room and then started one he had found in a pile on a shelf in Wen Kexing’s rooms.

He read aloud:

Red beans grow in the southern lands,
How many branches fall when spring arrives?
May the gentleman gather many of them
This is what makes him the most lovesick.*

It was almost imperceptible, the reaction Wen Kexing had to this reading. But it was there. Just as he had started to react to Zhou Zishu’s familiarity, so did his eyes flicker with a light that Zhou Zishu once thought non-existent in him.

“Why is this passage marked?” he asked, trying to put pressure on the hairline crack.

“It’s a reminder,” Wen Kexing said, simply.

“Of what?” Zhou Zishu asked, shifting a bit closer.

“Of the fragility of being human. A reminder that it is best to not hold onto others. It’s best to be a ghost.” There was a tightness in his voice, a change that Zhou Zishu wanted to grab and inspect. “I do not need you anymore this night. You are dismissed.”

“You have never needed me, but perhaps you still want me here?” Zhou Zishu asked, placing his palm fully on Wen Kexing’s thigh.

Wen Kexing grabbed Zhou Zishu’s wrist and twisted it up, removing Zhou Zishu’s hand from his leg. “I’m not interested in your games.” His words were strangely broken, as if he could not hold his voice steady.

“I think you hold great interest in me,” Zhou Zishu said, reaching this time to place his hand on Wen Kexing’s face.

Zhou Zishu had often looked into the eyes of men with power to see almost nothing there. Simply an insatiable need for more. More indulgence. More pleasure. More power. But what he found in Wen Kexing’s eyes was something else. Something that appeared more complicated.

“Why are you doing this? You despise me,” he said. Wen Kexing’s expression was unreadable. He was a beautiful man. Zhou Zishu was sure he had been approached with similar propositions before, but his reaction was strange, as if this was the last thing he had expected. It was an odd question from a man used to people doing his bidding. Again the crack was splintering.

“You are right. It’s best not to hold onto others. But that does not mean we should not indulge in others when we find ourselves in their presence. The desires I’m acting upon can coexist with my hatred of you.”

“Whatever your goals, you do not have to do this,” he said finally. “Go back to your rooms. Stop talking nonsense.”

“I want you to use me as you desire,” he shifted his body closer still, his hand returning to Wen Kexing’s body, this time sliding between his legs. That was the necessary move. Whatever was holding him back, his eyes finally darkened with the desire Zhou Zishu was used to seeing when he attempted such things.

He leaned forward, grabbing Zhou Zishu’s robe by the collar and whispered, “In any way? You would let me touch you in any way I want?”

Zhou Zishu smiled at this. He did not usually find pleasure in the success of his missions. It was something he had to perform, something that was expected - whether it was the execution of an enemy or using someone to get what he wanted. He was usually cold. But something about the way Wen Kexing spoke made him curious as to what he planned to do next. “I know that if I please you, I will be treated well. I know how men with great power can be generous when given favor first.”

At this, Wen Kexing removed Zhou Zishu’s hand from between his legs and placed it firmly beside him. Wen Kexing watched Zhou Zishu as he moved his hands to the tie in Zhou Zishu’s robes and loosened them until he could place his hand down Zhou Zishu’s trousers and wrap his hand around his cock.

It was only slightly hard at the touch, but it did not take many of Wen Kexing’s strokes before he was fully erect. Zhou Zishu allowed himself to make a pleased noise and Wen Kexing responded by stroking his hand over his cock.

Zhou Zishu tried again to move his hands to Wen Kexing’s body, but he stopped him cold. He shifted forward, trying to put his mouth on Wen Kexing’s neck and he was pushed away again.

“No,” he said, his voice stern. “Stay in place.”

“This is all you want?” Zhou Zishu asked, his breath raspy.

Wen Kexing did not answer, but increased the friction of his hand as he intently rubbed Zhou Zishu.

It was a good touch, attentive and purposeful. The clear goal was to get Zhou Zishu off as quickly as possible. And he was succeeding.

Wen Kexing’s fingers tightening around his cock, his hand moving so fast it was making Zhou Zishu’s whole body shake. Zhou Zishu’s body tensed without warning, his body giving over to the force of Wen Kexing’s touch, a mixture of pleasure and disappointment that it was over.

Wen Kexing finished wringing out the last waves from Zhou Zishu’s body, slowly, but still with clear purpose. He then simply removed his hand, wiped it with a towel that had been folded on his bedside and sat back on his bed, no sign of what he had just done to Zhou Zishu.

“Do you not want me to do the same for you?” Zhou Zishu asked, gasping as his heart settled in his chest.

“I want you to actually follow my order for once and leave before I have you escorted out. Find your way back to your prince and leave the rest of us here to focus on our own survival.”

This was not a reaction that Zhou Zishu had gotten to these sorts of attempts before. But he could tell by the look on Wen Kexing’s face that this was not some sort of game to get Zhou Zishu to be more assertive. He meant it. Wen Kexing wanted him to go.

After that, Zhou Zishu was no longer kept in a locked room. He was no longer watched or guarded, at least not in the way he had been before. Luo Fumeng even gave him supplies to journey back to Prince Jin’s palace. He was being permitted to go.

But he had not accomplished all he had set out to do. And despite Wen Kexing telling him he should leave, he did not go to the extent of banishing him. It was as if he could not bring himself to do so. Perhaps it was in the name of Gu Xiang who he cared about so dearly. He clearly was now aware of their connection and would not do anything to hurt her.

At least his newfound freedom came with it opportunity. No longer permitted to spend time reading to the Ghost King, he spent even more time studying herbal medicine books. He looked to what would treat headaches and dizzy spells, as he was no longer experiencing that. He had found something that was related to the ingredients for the Water of Oblivion - Drunk Life Dream Death. It could also slowly reverse the effects of the Water of Oblivion, which erased from your minds your greatest regrets.

So his hypothesis was thus - Zhou Zishu being there facing the past that had been erased from his mind was causing his episodes. Luo Fumeng had treated him with Drunk Life Dream Death and it had brought back stray memories.

And then the treatment stopped. He had not had any true visions recently. He simply experienced a feeling of everything being familiar, as if he had lived these days once before. The Drunk Life Dream Death had returned tiny shards of his memory, placing them bit by bit as he compiled the mosaic of his past, but it was far from complete. He needed to learn how to use it himself to remember more about Zhen Yan.

Zhou Zishu’s freedom also came with the opportunity to more extensively experiment with the medicines in the infirmary. He began to mix up remedies and tested them on himself. Although Luo Fumeng could be a good resource on this, based on her clandestine use of the treatment on him, he was unclear of her motives and decided it best to not stir that pot unless it was necessary.

Even after he spent so much time studying and testing Zhou Zishu was also able to hear more of the chatter from the ghosts. Many of the top ten ghosts were unhappy with the escalation of the conflicts at their borders. It all came to a head one day when Zhou Zishu had entered a meeting of the top ten ghosts on the pretense of serving them. Wen Kexing glanced at him and then went back to his present state of acting as though Zhou Zishu no longer existed.

An angry looking ghost with scars along his mouth, laughed wildly and snapped at Zhou Zishu to bring him more drink, but his jug was empty. Zhou Zishu bowed and gathered some of the empty cups, wanting to hear the rest of the conversation before leaving to refill the jug.

“Could we not just give them what they seek?” Impermanence Ghost asked, in a voice sharper than Zhou Zishu had ever heard anyone speak to the Ghost King before.

“What they want is a fairytale. If we give anything to them, they will raid us when they realize we have not given them what they want,” Wen Kexing said, his voice determined.

The ghost who wanted more drink was getting more agitated with Zhou Zishu’s disobedience and had risen to approach him. If Zhou Zishu continued to ignore this request, it would not bode well, so he reluctantly left the room. As he stepped out in the tunnel leading to the kitchens he stopped short when he heard, “But isn’t the intruder what they want? As long as he’s here, they will think we have something of value.”

In a case of more ill timing, one of the sentries appeared at the end of the tunnel, taking the path for the evening watch. Zhou Zishu immediately turned toward the kitchens, not wanting to give anyone the slightest reason to question his actions. Despite having more freedom of movement, he was still under the prying eyes of anyone he encountered.

The servants in the kitchen barely let him leave with a small jug of wine, questioning whether it was truly requested of him or if he was simply trying to get drunk in his own room. He wanted to be incredulous, but he had already stolen quite a few bottles from the kitchen these past weeks so all he could do was simply nod in gratitude for the small amount he was permitted to take.

When he returned, the receiving room was empty with the exception of Wen Kexing who was still sitting on the throne. He was drinking from a jug of wine himself, his head hanging low, reciting to himself:

“While I lean against the banister of a tall tower,
The breeze gently blows.
As I look into the distance,
The end of Spring arouses melancholy in my mind.
Surrounded by dewy grass at sunset,
I wonder who is able to understand my longing.
I would rather drink to intoxication.
One should sing when one has wine in hand,
But drinking to escape offers no reprieve.
I do not mind that my clothes are getting looser.”**

“My lover is worthy of desire,” Zhou Zishu said, finishing the poem as he entered the room.

Wen Kexing raised his head and then waved his hand dismissively. “I already commanded you to leave,” he said, his eyes glassy.

“The others might want me to leave, but I don’t believe you want me to go.”

Wen Kexing gave a clap, his usual gesture to get his servants to follow his every command, but Zhou Zishu had anticipated this.

“I told the other servants to leave. I’ll take care of you now.”

Wen Kexing frowned. “You don't belong here. No one with any chance of salvation does.”

Zhou Zishu held up the newly retrieved jug of wine and took a gulp. “Then we should drink to those of us who are truly damned.”

Wen Kexing laughed. Laughed! It was so startling that Zhou Zishu took an almost imperceptible step back. Wen Kexing seemed to track it, but simply smiled, sharp and dangerous. He tossed aside his jug, apparently empty, and grabbed the wine bottle from Zhou Zishu. He tipped it back, displeasure on his face after only a few gulps when he stopped drinking and turned it upside down between them. It was already empty. “A-Xu, how could you?” He placed the bottle down hard on the table. “I would have slowed down my processing of liquor if I had known I’d be without any more.”

“Perhaps you can distract yourself in different ways then,” Zhou Zishu said, stepping forward in front of Wen Kexing. He removed his outer robe and let it drop to the ground, revealing a sheer black under robe. It was the only piece of clothing that remained on Zhou Zishu’s body, leaving little to the imagination. “Aren’t I worthy of desire?”

He moved to the throne, a bottle concealed in one hand. He started to untie the Ghost King’s robe, but Wen Kexing stopped him, grabbing his wrist tightly. “What do you plan to do with this? Poison me?”

Zhou Zishu opened his hand and revealed the small vial. “It’s oil that I brought to help with my intentions.”

“Why are you doing this?” Wen Kexing asked, his voice sounding raw. It was not the commanding voice of a king Zhou Zishu had been accustomed to hearing.

“So my Master will have an appreciation for me. I know I must be of use to continue to stay here.”

When he had considered this plan, he had thought it would be cold and brutal. He had used all manner of manipulation before to assassinate his targets. Yes, even his body. But he had always been giving his targets something they already clearly wanted. He never had to convince them, especially when he stood practically naked before them.

“Why would you want to stay?” Wen Kexing whispered.

“I’ve been gone long enough now from Prince Jin, I’ll be considered a defector. The entire martial arts world is a mess and they all want what you have. I know where my best chance lies.“

Zhou Zishu grasped the belt on Wen Kexing’s robes and untied it. The material was formal and heavy, requiring much pulling and untangling until they were fully opened, exposing only his undergarment and his bare chest. He was a beautiful man, even if completely ruthless and cunning. This would not be a difficult task. Zhou Zishu might even enjoy seducing a man who held so tightly onto his desires.

“You should leave while you still have the chance.”

Zhou Zishu responded by climbing onto Wen Kexing’s lap, straddling him, his sheer robes fully open. “I have said what I want. Why do you not say what would please you? I don’t think it would be me leaving.” He moved his hips over the only material between his body and Wen Kexing’s groin, his eyelids fluttering at the motion. “It seems you do like this.”

“You’ve always been so stubborn,” Wen Kexing said, grasping a hold of one of Zhou Zishu’s wrists. “Is this what you want? You have my attention.”

The gold chain was there, as it always was, around his neck. Zhou Zishu moved his fingers over Wen Kexing’s clavicle, testing, tracing where the chain fell to the key dangling over his chest. Zhou Zishu was generally good at palming items, but there was a sharpness to Wen Kexing’s gaze, too sharp for someone who had been drinking for so long. He would have to bide his time a bit more.

Zhou Zishu let his robes slip down over his shoulders. This movement finally caught Wen Kexing’s attention, but it was very much directed at Zhou Zishu’s upper chest, which bore very harsh looking scars. The situation that had given them to Zhou Zishu was only a vague recollection, even with other memories coming back into sharp focus. The mind is quite good at protecting us from unthinkable levels of pain and mutilation.

Wen Kexing seemed entranced by the scars, letting his fingers lightly move over them. “This shouldn’t be,” he murmured.

“Sometimes it’s better to have scars as a reminder.”

“And what are you trying to remember?”

“It is best to not try to hold onto others for too long, as you said. People cannot be kept. But I have often not held on long enough.”

Wen Kexing’s eyes flicked to meet Zhou Zishu’s gaze and he had an idle thought that Wen Kexing looked more like a man lost in the wilderness than the King of Ghost Valley. Then his mouth was on Zhou Zishu’s chest, his lips trailing over the scars. Zhou Zishu let out a low moan of pleasure in response. Then Wen Kexing moved to kissing, sucking, licking up his neck.

It was frantic, like whatever had been holding him back before had let go, his hands now grasping at Zhou Zishu, pulling him closer. Zhou Zishu did not let the moment pass. The further he dragged this man into his grasp, the more advantage he would have. He quickly slid his hand down Wen Kexing’s trousers. This time he did not stop Zhou Zishu, instead he let out a heavy sigh against Zhou Zish’s neck and then went back to moving his mouth over Zhou Zishu’s shoulders.

Zhou Zishu took this as encouragement, pulling down Wen Kexing's trousers as far as he could to expose his cock, already completely hard and full. He opened the bottle he was still holding and slicked up Wen Kexing’s cock and then shifted his body so that Zhou Zishu could slide down fully on him.

Wen Kexing made a glorious noise, as if he had been waiting for this and was finally satisfied. But Zhou Zishu knew there was more he could give. He placed the bottle next to Wen Kexing on the throne and rolled his hips, picking up Wen Kexing’s face and leaning in to kiss him.

To this, he was not as amenable. He pulled away, grabbing Zhou Zishu’s ass and guiding him on his cock. It was an amazing feeling, full and deep. It was one that Zhou Zishu enjoyed regardless, but the way Wen Kexing grasped him, firm but careful, it was thrilling. Zhou Zishu found himself losing his focus, wanting to ride the feeling and moving his body in ways that kept Wen Kexing making those soft noises against his skin.

His wits came about him enough to recall the main purpose of this tryst. He slid his fingers over Wen Kexing’s neck, he even got to the point of undoing the clasp, but Wen Kexing’s hand was on his, twisting the chain from his fingers and folding the key into his palm as he pressed it to the throne.

Zhou Zishu thought that was it. He had been discovered and would have to face the consequences. But Wen Kexing did not say a word. Instead he moved his free hand now slicked in oil onto Zhou Zishu’s cock. There was nothing left for Zhou Zishu to do but let go into the rhythm, rolling his hips over Wen Kexing over and over again, giving his body over to pay for his treachery.

“Please, Master,” he begged. He knew he would have to feign remorse to make it out of this alive.

Wen Kexing pulled back, his expression still placid as he raised his hand to the piece of leather holding Zhou Zishu's hair up in his topknot, releasing it so that his hair spilled down his shoulders. It surprised Zhou Zishu to have his hair freed like this. It was a reminder of his younger days before he was required to fall in line with the Ghost King, when he had flouted all the rules and conventions he had become imprisoned by. But he had not thought them a prison until he had returned here.

Zhou Zishu leaned forward, pressing his lips to Wen Kexing’s neck in deference. This he was allowed to do, to ask forgiveness, to move his mouth in reverence to the Ghost King. Zhou Zishu could feel his orgasm coming, the edges of his vision fuzzy, his body wanting far more than his mind would allow. He needed to make sure Wen Kexing was satisfied, he needed to make sure he did his job well. He flexed faster and harder even as his own orgasm shattered through him, his body burning with it, everything lost to it.

Wen Kexing’s body tensed and Zhou Zishu bore down on him as he pulsed inside of him. When their bodies had let go, spent and loose, Zhou Zishu realized that he had come all over Wen Kexing’s chest.

Wen Kexing followed his sight line, looking down at himself. He pressed his hand to the slick and rubbed it into his skin. Then he moved Zhou Zishu off him, his grasp was firm, but the movement was gentle.

Zhou Zishu expected anger and wrath, but he was given something very different. Instead Wen Kexing hung his head low, not meeting Zhou Zishu’s eyes as he stood, wrapped his robes tightly around his waist and tied them tight.

And then without another word, he exited the room, leaving Zhou Zishu alone and dazed on the throne of the Ghost King.

Chapter Text

“What’s wrong with you?” Gu Xiang asked, shoving a piece of jagged wood at Zhou Zishu. “You said you wanted to help, but you’re just standing there stupidly.”

“Hey,” Zhou Zishu said, rubbing the spot on his shoulder where Gu Xiang had poked him with the stick. “Where’s the respect for your elders?”

“I’d respect seeing some work done so I don’t have to be the only one here sweating.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll focus.” He grabbed a bundle of loose branches and started to wind them up with twine. The wood for the cooking fires and hearths had run low and Gu Xiang had done something to annoy Wen Kexing enough that she had been sent to help the servants for the day. Zhou Zishu on the other hand didn’t even get a chance to get banished. He wasn’t even allowed within the same room.

It filled him with a sense of unease, knowing that the other ghosts were already questioning his presence and he did not seem to be keeping Wen Kexing’s attention. He went so far as to leave letters for the Ghost King to send to contacts in the Five Lakes Alliance and in the Imperial Court who were still loyal to him and would provide assistance if he asked. It was a risky move, but he needed Wen Kexing’s trust above all else at this moment. And he clearly did not have it.

“I know what I did, but what did you do to get sent here?” Zhou Zishu asked, tossing another bundle of twigs on the pile.

“Master is being stubborn again. He thinks just because I wanted something before that if I change my mind I’m being young and foolish. He never listens to anyone else.” She turned to Zhou Zishu, looking him up and down evaluatively. “What do you mean you know what you did? You weren’t sent here.”

“No, I wasn’t.” Zhou Zishu gave a sheepish grin. “I guess he’s just seen enough of me for now,” he said in a lower voice. “But that’s okay, now I can spend the day with you.”

Gu Xiang rolled her eyes. “I know there’s something going on between you. I’m not a little girl like you both think I am.” She picked up a large bundle and threw it over her shoulder. “Master is not as cold as he appears.”

“A-Xiang, don’t you remember A-Yan?”

Her expression changed to one of concentration. “I don’t think so.”

“He was the one who played with us in the lagoon. He helped me take care of you when you were sick. You loved him. Don’t you remember?”

“Oh,” she said, chewing on her lip. “I was very little, but I remember some things.”

“Then what happened?”

“I promised not to talk about that.”

“Who? Who did you promise A-Xiang?”

“Master,” she said. There was weight to her expression, not fear exactly, but it was a resignation. Zhou Zishu knew that defying Wen Kexing in this place was basically a death sentence. Despite the fact that he thought the Ghost King valued Gu Xiang more than the average ghost, by reputation Zhou Zishu knew him capable of riding a problem, and Gu Xiang seemed to believe so. He could not push it farther. He would not let her risk her safety. Zhou Zishu would go directly to the source.

“Understood,” he said, giving her a conciliatory smile.

She nodded and busied herself again with the work, but her usual brightness was dimmed. It did not sit well with Zhou Zishu. He decided he would no longer involve her in whatever he was doing here. He had to protect Gu Xiang no matter the consequences.

When they returned in the evening, muscles sore and sun kissed, Zhou Zishu was invited to dinner in the main hall. It was not what Zhou Zishu had expected when he had been all but banned from Wen Kexing’s rooms earlier.

He told himself that he accepted the invitation to evaluate other opportunities to make a play for the key again. He told himself it was to make sure that Wen Kexing’s anger about his attempt the night before did not fester into a plan to harm him or those he held dear. But Zhou Zishu definitely had other curiosities.

All became curiouser and curiouser as he came back to his room to find a new set of beautiful blue robes there waiting for him. The material was of the finest of silks. Even though Zhou Zishu was wealthy by most standards, he did not often bother wearing something so lavish. It was a dress for celebration, and what had he to celebrate in all those years?

After he washed and dressed, he was escorted to the dining room. He had left his hair down, deciding that it must please Wen Kexing for it to be in such a way and when he saw Zhou Zishu, the way his eyes darkened made Zhou Zishu believe it was the right move.

Wen Kexing rose to greet Zhou Zishu. He was also dressed even more formally than usual. His robes were a shiny silver, so very different from the vibrant red he wore when filling the role of the Ghost King. They were more the color of his clothes he wore in his rooms, elegant, but less severe.

“Perfect,” Wen Kexing said when Zhou Zishu entered the room. “Those robes,” he said to clarify, when it was clear that Zhou Zishu did not understand the comment. “You’re so handsome, it’s really been a shame you have been wearing such ordinary attire.”

Zhou Zishu glanced down at his clothing, suddenly feeling self conscious in a way that he never was. “Where’s A-Xiang?” he asked as he smoothed out his robes and settled into his seat.

Wen Kexing returned to his seat and waved one hand as he poured wine into Zhou Zishu’s cup with another. “She is visiting some unworthy boy in the village.”

“You let her go to the village?”

“Not alone. Luo Fumeng is with her. The Annals of the Scorned had some work to do. She tagged along.”

“You make it sound more like a leisure trip than a revenge mission.”

Wen Kexing shrugged. “One arrow goes through two condors.”*

His entire presence felt different. Instead of the cold, angry man that he showed as the Ghost King or the uncaring, challenging man Zhou Zishu had been serving, this man acted as if the barricade of ice around him had melted. What was left inside was relaxed, warm and tracked Zhou Zishu’s every movement.

“A-Xu, are you hungry? You really should eat. I heard you worked hard today.”

“I am happy to eat,” Zhou Zishu admitted. It was a strange feeling to have anyone show regard for his own personal care.

“Are you not concerned that Luo Fumeng will encounter the Scorpions?” he asked, as they began their meal. “The drug men have been reported in that area, and have raided the village before.”

“Luo Fumeng does not need my protection.”

“Maybe not on her own, but this place does.The Five Lakes Alliance is crumbling. They have been fighting amongst themselves for a while. Many from their sects have been lost, the heads of some of the major families are now led by the next generation. The Scorpions are in the thick of it, but their motives are less clear.”

“I suspect they want what everyone wants. Power. Control,” Wen Kexing said, swishing his drink around in the cup as he stared into it. “Didn’t you say the rumor is now that we have the key to the World’s Armory?”

Ah and so this was it. Wen Kexing was no longer dancing around what they both knew to be true. He was letting go of pretense. Then Zhou Zishu would do the same. “Don’t you?” he asked.

Wen Kexing laughed. “A-Xu, you of all people should be suspicious of what the martial arts world supposedly ‘knows.’”

This was true, but Zhou Zishu still did not believe him. He was keeping a key very close to him. This was only done with something truly important. Still, there were other ways to help Ghost Valley if Wen Kexing would listen.

“The Window of Heaven has faced the Scorpions before. They have no honor. They will keep sending these creatures until your perimeter falls. But if Prince Jin thinks they have succeeded in obtaining what they were seeking, his attention will turn on them. The enemy of my enemy…”

“Is a good decoy,” Wen Kexing returned.

“Yes, indeed,” Zhou Zishu said, and he couldn’t help but smile at the joke.

“Why would you want to divert him? Aren’t you here on his orders?”

Zhou Zishu would not deny that. “I was. But now I’m here for myself. For Gu Xiang. For Luo Fumeng. I don’t agree with everything you do here, but I don’t think you should be scapegoated for all the problems in the martial arts world.”

“Then we are in agreement. For now.”

Zhou Zishu nodded. “For now.”

After dinner and a few cups of wine, Wen Kexing said, “A-Xu, let me show you something.” His voice was almost warm and he grasped at Zhou Zishu’s wrist and pulled him along down the tunnels. It was disorienting, how familiar this walk felt, not only the path, but the company he kept. Even Wen Kexing sparing him glances in the low light of the candles.

It was that strange sensation again, one of feeling as though he had done this exact thing before. He couldn’t shake it.

He was surprised when they ended up at the doors to the book room. Wen Kexing waved away the guards and the servant who was working there. When they were absolutely alone, he shut the doors. He had a pleased expression when he brought Zhou Zishu to the comfortable looking spot in the back of the room. This time there was a little beam of light shining onto the wall, illuminating a small circle there.

“Sit, A-Xu,” he said, leading him to the center of the mat that was surrounded by pillows. “It should be the right time.”

Zhou Zishu sat down, crossing his legs and looking up at Wen Kexing, waiting for whatever it was that was so unusual about this spot.

Wen Kexing hung the lamp in his hand on the wall. The light scattered across the wall, multi colors and shapes from floor to ceiling.

He sat down next to Zhou Zishu. “What do you think, A-Xu?”

It was beautiful. The particular way the light shone into the room and then through the lamp that Wen Kexing made had illuminated the whole section of the room with a flickering spectrum of light that was pushing away the darkness.

“You made this?” he asked, taking in the scene.

‘Yes,” Wen Kexing said with a nod. “A family friend was a great inventor. I made a more simple version as a child, but was able to do this…after.”

“After what?”

Wen Kexing just shook his head and said:

“I live upstream and you downstream,
From night to night, of you I dream.”

Those lines. Zhou Zishu remembered the poem by Li Zhiyi. He had even seen the Book of Songs on the shelves. He got up and retrieved it, standing before Wen Kexing as he opened the pages.

Strangely, inside it had a bookmark of fine rice paper with a flower pressed between it at the exact right poem. Zhou Zhou read aloud:

I live upstream and you downstream,
From night to night of you I dream.
Unlike the stream you are not in view,
Though both we drink from River Blue.
When will the river no more flow？
When will my grief no more grow？
I wish your heart will be like mine，
Then not in vain for you I pine.**

“Where did you get that?” Wen Kexing asked, standing up and reaching for it. “I thought it was lost.”

But Zhou Zishu did not give it over, instead he was entranced by the rice paper. The yellow flower looked so familiar. When he looked back at Wen Kexing, he was watching, waiting expectantly for something. He returned his attention to the rice paper. At first glance Zhou Zishu thought it paint on the edges, but no. It was blood. He flicked through the pages and the later ones were also spattered with it.

Zhou Zishu’s mind was spinning. He could remember this poem. This book. Each new memory was only a fragment. His mind was jumbled. Images flashed through his mind like lighting strikes. All that he could grasp was blood, and desperation, an abandoned book and a crumpled body on the floor.

Then came a flash of a perfect vision - Wen Kexing was standing before him, eyes vacant and covered in blood.

“Zhen Yan!” Zhou Zishu had screamed, the pain searing through his lungs as he tried to breathe. But Zhou Zishu had not been calling for help. It was a warning.

Wen Kexing stumbled, taking an ivory hairpin from the hands of the lump on the floor.

Zhou Zishu was breathing hard as he righted his mind to the present, trying to keep the contents of his stomach in his body. His energy was out of control. It was burning him up from the inside. There was a commotion from his periphery and then he blacked out.

“A-Xu,” Wen Kexing said, shaking him awake as he found himself splayed out on the ground, his shoulders being held by Wen Kexing. “What happened?”

“You were there!” Zhou Zishu said. “What did you do to him? What did you do to Zhen Yan?” He drew the knife he had concealed strapped to his thigh. He had been biding his time to get what he sought and now that he knew the truth, he could finish this.

The ivory hairpin. It wasn’t a coincidence. Wen Kexing was wearing it now. It had been familiar for a reason but Zhou Zishu had not made the connection until that moment - it was the hairpin Zhen Yan wore.

He had been foolish to think that this Wen Kexing could somehow share a common understanding. He was a power hungry killer. Zhou Zishu had always known this. He had allowed himself to get pulled into this man’s delusions, but he would be a fool no more.

Wen Kexing did not move, even with the point of Zhou Zishu’s knife at his throat. He seemed completely unphased by Zhou Zishu’s threat. “You killed him didn’t you? This is his blood isn’t it?” Zhou Zishu said, holding the book open and showing the darkened pages. “That’s his hairpin!” he said, pointing to Wen Kexing’s hair.

He was losing air again, his mind skittering from past to present. Terror and anguish shot through him. His body shook with it.

“A-Xu, A-Xu,” Wen Kexing said, holding his face, easily twisting the knife from Zhou Zishu’s grasp. “Look at me. This isn’t someone else’s book. Or someone else’s hairpin.”

It didn’t make any sense. Zhou Zishu couldn’t make his thoughts cohesive. He could taste the copper of his own blood, as he coughed erratically, his body seemingly trying to expel every disorienting memory.

“Shixiong,” Wen Kexing said, his voice sounding desperate. “They’re mine.”

“Shixiong?” Zhou Zishu gasped.

A warmth spread over his skin, sliding down his shoulders, over his body. Wen Kexing’s palms were flat on his chest. Energy. Wen Kexing’s energy. He was trying to stabilize him.

The energy triggered another memory that flicked through his mind.

“I wish we could be like those willow seeds - dancing on the breeze, going wherever the wind takes us.”

“Would that make you A-Xu, then?”

“And would you come with me? A traveling wanderer?”

“Traveling Wanderer. My Kexing.”***

This time his memory of that afternoon in the field was sharp, clear. Zhen Yan had never left Ghost Valley. He was right there before Zhou Zishu.

“Shidi,” Zhou Zishu said, grabbing a hold of him. He couldn’t bear to not keep a grip to make sure he didn’t somehow disappear. The energy that Wen Kexing had been sending through Zhou Zishu’s meridians increased, his presence within Zhou Zishu seemingly intensifying in response.

“I’m here,” he said.

Years passed between them in a breath. It was as if he had been stumbling in the dark of night and Wen Kexing had finally lit a candle. “I don’t understand,” Zhou Zishu said, raising his hand to Wen Kexing’s face, his eyes closed as he leaned into the touch. It was such a Zhen Yan-like movement, not a Wen Kexing-like movement. Zhou Zishu’s legs became weak. Wen Kexing caught him and lowered him to the floor and collapsed beside him.

Zhou Zishu stabilized himself with both of his hands planted on the ground. It was still a lot to process, years of memories he had lost. He was regaining control of his breathing, slowing down, matching the rhythm of Wen Kexing’s energy flowing through him. It replenished his meridians like a dried riverbed finally flooded with the rain. It was a well-worn path that Wen Kexing’s energy was simply returning to fill.

“I wanted so badly to see you,” Wen Kexing said, his voice almost a whisper. “I thought I might leave and go find you, so I drank the Water of Oblivion to forget you. Years passed and then you returned. My mind couldn’t take it. Aunt Luo had to treat me and return my memories. And you were still here, in arms reach. I wanted to send you away, but I couldn’t.” He raised his thumb to the corner of Zhou Zishu’s mouth, wiping the blood away.

“I still can’t remember why I left,” Zhou Zishu whispered. “You said, ‘wherever you go I will follow.” He met Wen Kexing’s eyes. “But you didn’t follow. Why?”

Wen Kexing’s eyes were shiny, tears filling them. “I needed you to be safe,” he said. His voice was so small. “You weren’t safe with me.”

“But why, A-Yan?” Wen Kexing’s expression was broken. Zhou Zishu could feel him, his energy, the weight of the emotions he was bearing. Zhou Zishu couldn’t stand it. “It doesn’t matter, Shidi. All that matters is I’m here with you now.”

He met Zhou Zishu’s gaze again, his eyes so uncertain. “Shixiong,” Wen Kexing said, his voice still low. “Is your heart still like mine?”

“Shidi,” he said, siding his hand to grasp the back of Wen Kexing’s neck. “It always will be.”

Wen Kexing seemed to get the answer he was seeking, pushing Zhou Zishu down on the ground on his back and pressing their mouths together. They both were possessed, tearing at each other’s robes, pulling apart the material until it pooled around them on the ground and they were pressed skin to skin. Wen Kexing’s mouth was back on Zhou Zishu’s neck, his hands trailing all over Zhou Zishu’s body. His body had been starved of this for years. Even while being touched by him, Zhou Zishu ached for more. He grasped Wen Kexing’s face and pulled it up to kiss him again. He never wanted to stop kissing him.

Wen Kexing was rutting against him, his breath heavy as he kept pulling at Zhou Zishu, seeming to try to rid all space between them. “Shixiong,” he gasped. “Please. I need you closer. I need you. Please, fuck me.” He shifted his body so he was on his back, reaching into a robe and pulling out a vial. He wriggled out of his trousers so he was fully naked on the layer of robes on the floor.

Zhou Zishu let himself get pulled in, let himself get led between Wen Kexing’s legs. Let himself get moved into place, finally pressing inside of Wen Kexing, until he was fully seated inside him. He moved at Wen Kexing’s insistence, slow at first and then harder, faster.

His energy was twisting inside him, it was overwhelming, a power that was building. Then he felt it move. He thrust into Wen Kexing and their energy continued to shift between them, faster, stronger.

“I’m sorry, Shixiong. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry you were hurt.” Wen Kexing gasped as he pulled at Zhou Zishu, desperately clinging onto him.

“Shhhh,” Zhou Zishu said, sliding his hands under Wen Kexing’s ass and pulling him closer. “I’m here now,” he said. Their mouths met again. Wen Kexing tasted salty and Zhou Zishu was unsure if it was blood, sweat or tears on his lips. If the past between them was any indication, it was likely all three. “We can be together now,” Zhou Zishu soothed.

Wen Kexing’s breathing became more rapid as he wrapped his ankles around Zhou Zishu’s back, making Zhou Zishu’s thrusts quicker and deeper. His body trembled as he kissed Zhou Zishu again, hard, all consuming. His body tensed and he tightened around Zhou Zishu as he came, releasing hot and wet on his stomach. Zhou Zishu’s mind blurred as he took in all of Wen Kexing’s energy, coursing through his body, a fire raging through his meridians.

It left him as quickly as it came, shattering his orgasm through his body and releasing everything inside of him into Wen Kexing.

Zhou Zishu collapsed onto Wen Kexing’s chest, his body drenched and gulping down air. But they did not separate, they stayed with their bodies interconnected, their limbs intertwined. Zhou Zishu listened to Wen Kexing’s heartbeat, the rhythm the same as his own as it slowed.

Their hearts aligned. His heart, still like mine.

“I want you to have this again,” Wen Kexing said, pulling his hair loose and wrapping Zhou Zishu’s hair, securing it with the pin.

“You gave this to me once?” he asked, raising his hand to his hair. He liked the secure feeling of his hair, like he was being gathered up and pulled tight. Kept.

“Once on a day much like this. I’m sorry you weren’t able to keep it with you.”

“Much has returned to us on this day. That is what matters most,” Zhou Zishu said.

Wen Kexing kissed him again, this time a gentle caress. A kiss he was given so often in their younger days, that he had not had since. Nothing had felt more right. He had never felt like he belonged anywhere, except here, in Wen Kexing’s arms.

This time sleep came soft and easy, a lulling breeze that carried Zhou Zishu away. Finally, finally home once more.

The sun had risen again when Zhou Zishu opened his eyes. He reached out to the floor beside him to find it empty and cold. It was unsettling. He had expected Wen Kexing to still be there, still curled around his body. Instead all that was there was the chain with the key on it.

He put the chain on and dressed quickly. When he made his way to the exit, Luo Fumeng was waiting there for him. “Master left this for you to drink,” she said, holding out a bowl for him.

He looked down into it. The liquid was clear, but it had a unique odor. If Zhou Zishu hadn’t spent the last few weeks studying it, he might not have been certain, but he knew this was the Water of Oblivion. It seemed of the utmost absurdity, but Wen Kexing appeared to be trying to erase his memory again.

“You know I won’t drink this,” he said with absolute resolve.

“I thought not,” she said with a nod. “But we all have our orders.”

“Your master is an idiot,” he said. “Where is he?”

“Aunt Luo!” Gu Xiang’s voice came wafting down the corridor. She burst into the room, clearly out of breath. “The drugmen are here. We’re losing sentries fast.”

He turned to Luo Fumeng. “Where’s Baiyi?”

“This is your chance, A-Shu,” she said. “You can leave this place. You can take A-Xiang and go.”

“To hell if I’m going anywhere,” Gu Xiang said, pulling out her whip and folding her arms. “I’m not a coward.”

Luo Fumeng gave her a look of an assuring parent and patted her arm. “You do what you must, child.”

“Neither you nor A-Yan can make me leave either,” Zhou Zishu. “Now tell me where I can get my sword.”

Luo Fumeng nodded resolutely. “It’s in the arms room. A-Xiang, take Zhou Zishu there while I go check our defenses and see if I can find our master.” She made her way to the door and turned back to look at them for a moment before she said “Be well” and left them both.

The arms room was in the opposite direction from where the fighting seemed to be originating so Zhou Zishu and Gu Xiang had to dodge quite a few sentries as they were running down the tunnels in the opposite direction.

Zhou Zishu hadn’t been entirely sure how they would actually get in the room, but that was no longer a problem as the doors were wide open for the fight and many of the ghost soldiers were running out with weapons.

It wasn’t until he was fully inside that Zhou Zishu remembered this room. The walls were lined with different forms of weaponry - swords, spears, and rows of bows and arrows. At the back of it, there was a room where the more valuable ones were kept. Zhou Zishu made his way to the door, but it was locked.

Zhou Zishu felt the door. It was sealed with energy. He didn’t have much time, but his energy had been replenished, at an intensity he had not had for many years. He made quick work of the lock and shoved his way inside.

The scene inside brought him to his knees. The room was stained floor and walls. Someone had attempted to clean them, but it was no use. That much blood could never be cleaned fully.

And then came the pain. The all consuming pain as his vision swam.

His shoulders shuddered, his body re-experiencing a searing wound that had healed a decade earlier. His stomach lurched, as he was hit with the memory of being strung up like a sack of meat, hooked to the wall.

This was what had been tucked away deep in his mind. It was what he could not face. But Wen Kexing’s energy was there, helping him balance, helping him remember. His breathing slowed and his body regained its balance, able to stand once again.

“Did you send for them?” a snarling voice came from the door. “They’re attacking us because of you,” Wen Kexing said, flipping out his fan. “You have brought us nothing but trouble. It’s time for you to be taken out of the equation.”

“No! Master!” Gu Xiang said, stepping between them.

“Get out of the way, A-Xiang,” Zhou Zishu said, panting.

Wen Kexing frowned. “Don’t let him speak to you little girl. Come this way.”

“Zhen Yan, what’s wrong? Why are you acting this way?” Zhou Zishu said, getting to his feet.

Wen Kexing blinked, but showed no other signs of recognition. “Your presence is tiring,” he said.

“You did it again, didn’t you, you idiot,” Zhou Zishu said, as the situation became clear. “The first time wasn’t enough? You thought that sending me on my way, wiping my mind would work again? I’m not going to let you off that easily, you bastard.” He staggered forward, finding his footing.

“Yes, it was immensely fucked what happened here, but so what?” Zhou Zishu continued. “This entire world has gone to shit. But not this. Not you. Not us. Not A-Xiang. Why would you throw it away? You don’t get to forget us. I won’t let you, Zhen Yan. I won’t let you forget what we have.”

Wen Kexing let out a terrible noise, holding his head in his hands and dropping to his knees. Zhou Zishu dropped to the floor as well, kneeling in front of Wen Kexing.

“Come back to me.” Zhou ZIshu raised his hand to Wen Kexing’s face. His eyes rolled to the back of his head at the touch and his body went limp, collapsing on the floor.

Chapter Text

It was Wen Kexing who was deviating now. Zhou Zishu had been accepting the truths bit by bit all along his time here. He had been taking the Drunk Life Dream Death treatment for the Water of Oblivion. His mind still struggled to catch up, but he had been ready for it.

Wen Kexing was not.

He had erased parts of his mind again. It was such a foolish and dangerous decision. Wen Kexing still had some of Zhou Zishu’s qi circulating through him so he could feel his mind warring with this dose of the Water of Oblivion. And Zhou Zishu would help him.

“Go get help,” he commanded Gu Xiang. The young woman immediately took off in a flurry, heading toward the fight. Zhou Zishu hoped there was still help remaining for them.

He sat down behind Wen Kexing and gathered all this internal energy, pressing his palms to his back and thrusting it into his shidi. With his energy, went Zhou Zishu’s mind, deep into Wen Kexing ’s darkness.

It was like a flood, the images, ideas, emotions, they burst forth and trailed through his mind. They were almost too much to grasp. These weren’t Zhou Zishu’s memories. These were Wen Kexing’s memories. Some were familiar - the way they had clung to each other as small children, trying to survive the fear and pain, the strangeness after drinking the Water of Oblivion and losing a grasp on their pasts, never retrieved until now, the freedom and rush they felt the first time they were allowed out of the mountain to fulfill their master’s orders. The nervous anticipation Wen Kexing felt when he was waiting for Zhou Zishu to come meet him in the cave behind the waterfall. The way they both felt when they first kissed, first touched one another.

But these memories weren’t rushing in, no they were leaving. Wen Kexing was determined to purge himself of all that was left of them and Zhou Zishu couldn’t allow it. He already knew, being there in Wen Kexing’s memories, that he thought this was the best for Zhou Zishu. He thought he would forget again and Zhou Zishu would leave and forget too. But Wen Kexing didn’t know that it was an impossibility for Zhou Zishu now.

He had spent years feeling empty, like he was a true ghost. He thought it was for no reason. He thought it was because he was simply a broken person who would never be given the chance to be whole. He didn’t understand it was because he was missing the most important piece of his life.

Still he could tell, he could feel it, there was something Wen Kexing was hiding. He couldn’t let Wen Kexing lose it all again so he cultivated a dream space, a place for all their memories to live and breathe, albeit temporarily.

He needed to find where Wen Kexing’s consciousness was still present, not these echoes that were rippling by.

“Come this way,” Wen Kexing’s voice, youthful and vibrant, unable to be contained even by a whisper. “Hurry.”

“What is it, A-Yan?” Zhou Zishu asked.

Wen Kexing now, his thoughts answered.

“You’ll see,” Wen Kexing said, with the smile that crooked at the corner of his mouth. The one he only gave to Zhou Zishu. The one that made his heart race and think that maybe there was a life for them beyond this rock prison.

He pulled Zhou Zishu into the storage room. It was one of the many places they would sneak off to when they thought they could go undetected for a while. There was a spot behind all the shelves where they would go and read some of the few books they had obtained from the village or sing songs they had learned on the streets. It was always dark here as it was in all inner caverns of the mountain, but it was illuminated with some candles used to search through the boxes and cabinets that contained whatever scrolls or documents that the Ghost King deemed worthy of keeping.

They stumbled into the back, the sentry most frequently posted here was often missing at this hour and they had found they could come and go at certain times undetected. Wen Kexing grabbed a lantern from the entry and held it up, illuminating the small space where he had laid a blanket.

“What’s this?” Zhou Zishu asked, amused that Wen Kexing would do anything this elaborate, but he was always the one with the plan, the idea, the scheme. Why would he be any different when simply wanting to please Zhou Zishu. That was what this was, his way of showing his affection. He knew of all the places in the mountain, Zhou Zishu liked this one the most. And now Zhou Zishu knew, as he watched this scene, it was the same for Wen Kexing, too.

“Sit, A-Xu,” he said, leading him to the center of the blanket.

He raised the lamp and stepped behind Zhou Zishu, hanging it on a hook behind them. The light refracted, spreading across the wall in a band of bright colors. A rainbow splashed across the black rock. He sat down next to Zhou Zishu.

“So now we’ll always have one here.”

Zhou Zishu laughed, turning to admire Wen Kexing’s pleased expression as he looked at what he had created.

“How did you know how to do this?”

Wen Kexing frowned. “I think I learned it…before.” He coughed roughly and inhaled with a rasp.

“Wait,” Zhou Zishu said, pulling on his sleeve and wiping the trickle of blood that appeared on the corner of Wen Kexing’s mouth. “Don’t mind where you learned it. It doesn’t matter. It’s beautiful.”

“Like you,” Wen Kexing said with a smirk. And then he leapt forward onto Zhou Zishu like a sparring attack, but very clearly with a different purpose. He was always the one to break the distance first, to ask to be touched, to seek contact. More and more Zhou Zishu simply gave into it. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be like this with Wen Kexing. It was that he knew it was dangerous. He knew that their Master would not want it. He had been forcing them to compete to see who would be the strongest to be his second in command. He said their clear affection for each other was a weakness he had to break.

It first started with missions out in the human world where the loser would be beaten. In each situation they would somehow find a way to come back with what was requested at the same time. Then both of them would be beaten. The Ghost King grew tired of their games and moved to forcing them to fight by threatening Gu Xiang.

They would bloody each other until the Ghost King would call the winner and tend to each other's wounds and soothe each other’s pain in the depths of the night once the Ghost King had passed out from exhaustion and drink.

Wen Kexing’s lips tasted like the wine he had snuck out of the kitchen, spicy but with a hint of sweetness. He tore at Zhou Zishu’s robes, already impatient. They were always hurried when doing this in this place. They could not get caught. Wen Kexing opened his as well, pulling off his trousers and immediately going for Zhou Zishu’s to pull them off.

“A-Yan,” Zhou Zishu gasped. “This is not prudent.”

“Kexing,” he corrected, reminding Zhou Zishu of the name he had given him. “We haven’t had a chance like this A-Xu,” he said, his mouth muffled by Zhou Zishu’s body where Wen Kexing had moved to sucking on his collarbone. “The devil is out for the night with the Happy Ghost and the Reapers, looking for their stupid glazed armor. Aunt Luo has A-Xiang. We can do what we want.”

“What if someone else catches us, what then?”

“We kill them.”

“You’ll murder people so you can have my body?”

“I’d burn the world,” he said, his expression complete sincerity.

Zhou Zishu’s hesitation shattered. It was his own exact sentiments, somehow finely articulated. He would do whatever necessary to protect those he loved. Even that. He shifted his body, pressing Wen Kexing on his back, kissing him hard, deep. It was the only thing that truly felt good in this hell.

Even the affection he felt for Gu Xiang or Luo Fumeng was tainted with fear of what might happen to them if he made a mistake. But he did not fear for Wen Kexing in that way. He knew he would fight at his side when necessary. He did not need Zhou Zishu’s protection. He simply wanted him.

And he never looked at him differently in the way Luo Fumeng did the first time he came back home covered in blood. In the same way that Gu Xiang seemed resigned to understand that her caretakers were weapons and that their life was destined to be filled with death.

There was no loss in his eyes when Wen Kexing looked at Zhou Zishu. What was reflected back to him was only the best of himself, the best of who he hoped to be someday if he wasn’t such a coward. He had to stop being fearful. He needed to take what he wanted in whatever time they had.

Zhou Zishu didn’t understand back then, how brave Wen Kexing was. He grabbed what he wanted even when it felt like they were clawing for their lives. Zhou Zishu simply never knew how to say no to him.

Wen Kexing curled his lip as he settled himself between Zhou Zishu’s legs. “We’ll be kings of this place one day, you’ll see.”

“Shhhh,” Zhou ZIshu said, still laughing through his warning.

“Fine, I’ll be quiet,” he said, hiking up Zhou Zishu’s robes and burying himself under them. His mouth found its way to Zhou Zishu’s cock quickly, messily. He moved his lips over Zhou Zishu in a way that made him think he would never feel anything this good in this life ever again.

He came fast, his body sweaty and exhausted simply from its response to Wen Kexing’s attention. When he removed himself from Zhou Zishu’s robes, he had a self-satisfied smirk on his face. “That was so fast.”

“Oh, you think you can do better,” Zhou Zishu said, pressing Wen Kexing on his back.

He smiled, his eyes full of an adoration that Zhou Zishu had taken much too for granted. “Try me,” he challenged.

And Zhou Zishu did. He pulled aside the many layers of Wen Kexing’s clothes and dug into his trousers to pull out his cock, exposing mostly the tip. He pressed his mouth to it, soft kisses at first, slow, gentle. Despite his teasing, he knew that Wen Kexing still did not understand one simple truth - that he owned Zhou Zishu’s heart.

When he tried to say so, the words got caught in his throat. So he would always instead focus on showing him, even in this, even when he was simply giving his body attention, he did it with all he had to give.

It didn’t matter that Zhou Zishu was trying to take it slow. Wen Kexing was easily stirred and it was not long before he was panting as his cock pulsed. Zhou Zishu sucked on the end and swallowed every bit of him down.

“Who’s fast now?” Zhou Zishu asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Wen Kexing looked chagrined, but he brushed it off easily. “We’re simply efficient. A perfect match,” he said.

Zhou Zishu could not help but laugh again. They were both a mess. Zhou Zishu’s hair spilled out of the knot on his head. wild tendrils falling in his face. He brushed them aside and leaned against Wen Kexing’s shoulder.

Wen Kexing seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then pulled out the pin in his hair and twisted Zhou Zishu’s up again, securing it with the hairpin. “Beautiful,” he said, letting the back of his fingers slide down Zhou Zishu’s face.

Zhou Zishu’s face warmed. He still was not used to anyone talking to him like this, especially someone he admired so much.

“My mother gave that to me to protect,” he said. “That much I know. It is something she was willing to die to hide. Can you keep it for me A-Xu?“

Zhou Zishu pressed his lips to Wen Kexing’s forehead and hugged him close. “I promise to protect everything you’ve offered me,” he said. “Always.” No matter what was to come. they needed to keep their flicker of light in the darkness at all costs. It was all they had left.

Wen Kexing responded by sliding his arms around Zhou Zishu’s waist, holding him tightly as they both fell asleep on the floor.

When Wen Kexing woke, Zhou Zishu was not there. It was a jarring reminder that these were not Zhou Zishu’s memories, but his. Wen Kexing looked confused, first looking around slowly and then calling out, “A-Xu, where are you?”

He picked up a book from the floor and headed out to the tunnels where he was discovered by a few of the Ghost King’s sentries. They grabbed him by the arms, a way they only handled him when he was about to be punished. He thought he was being taken for a beating, a session where he would beg for forgiveness for whatever misdeed he had done and lick his wounds for a week before being let back into his good graces, but this time was different.

On the wall were two large, heavy chains and attached at each end were hooks, like giant meat hooks from a butcher shop, but these hooks were impaled into Zhou Zishu’s body. He was limp, dangling from them, his body lifeless. The amount of blood was startling. Wen Kexing knew how much blood could come from a human body and still, this was too much. It was the amount of blood loss where death follows.

“Shidi!” he screamed as he dropped the book in his hand and lunged toward Zhou Zishu, only to be cut off by the menacing presence of the Ghost King looming over him.

“You were so distracted by Zhou Zishu that you didn’t even notice Gu Xiang was gone,” he said, drawing a sword and holding it between them. “He makes you weak.”

“Where is she?”

“She’s with one of my men. And she will be fine, as long as you do as I say.”

“I always have. We’ve done everything you’ve asked.” Zhou Zishu’s body twitched as he groaned. “He can’t stay there,” Wen Kexing could hear the tremble in his own voice, despite trying to stay calm. “He’s already lost so much blood.”

“No, you are right. He can’t stay there. You must take this sword and put him out of his misery. Otherwise, all three of you die today. It’s an easy choice, Wen Kexing. Remember, you must be venomous and cruel to be king of the valley.”

Zhou Zishu was no longer moving. Wen Kexing took the sword from the Ghost Valley King’s hand. Instinct kicked in and he attacked the Ghost Valley Master, impaling him through the heart. The man clearly hadn’t anticipated the action, recoiling and falling onto the floor. Rage clouded Wen Kexing’s vision as he stabbed him over and over again, only stopping when he heard Zhou Zishu call out, “Shidi.”

He sliced the sword straight through his neck, separating the Ghost King’s head from his body. Only then was Wen Kexing satisfied that he would never get up again, never terrorize them again. He wrenched the hairpin from his fingers and staggered over to Zhou Zishu.

Once he pulled Zhou Zishu off the hooks, Wen Kexing did what he could to put energy into his body, but it wouldn’t be enough. Zhou Zishu’s body was pale and limp. It was too late.

“Shixiong, Shixiong, no, no, no,” Wen Kexing wailed, still lost to his visions. “Don’t go. Please.”

“I’m right here,” Zhou Zishu said, cradling Wen Kexing’s head in his lap and stroking his hair. “I’m right here. You need to wake up, Shidi.”

Wen Kexing opened his eyes and grabbed Zhou Zishu’s arm. “How? You’re dead.”

Zhou Zishu shook his head. “No, you saved me. You sent me to get healed. You did what you had to do. But that’s over now.”

“No, it’s not. You can’t be here. You have to go to Prince Jin or else he may never take you back. You don’t have to be a ghost. You can have a life.”

“I don’t want to go. I want to stay.”

Wen Kexing pushed at Zhou Zishu, trying to physically separate them.“You hated this place. You hated the Ghost King. You wanted to burn it to the ground,” he said. Wen Kexing would not meet Zhou Zishu’s gaze as he spoke, even as Zhou Zishu tried to pull Wen Kexing back toward him. “Look at what I had to do to get rid of him. I’ve become what you hate. You have no idea what I have done since to protect this place. How can you even look at me?”

Zhou Zishu gently but firmly cupped Wen Kexing’s face and turned him to look at Zhou Zishu. “How can I look at you? How can I bear to tear my eyes away? How can I tolerate knowing that all these years have passed without seeing you. You think making me forget you somehow made my life better? I’ve had a hole in my chest for so long and I had no idea why.”

He brushed his thumb across Wen Kexing’s cheek where a tear had fallen, still not willing to break his gaze.

“Zhen Yan, you are why.”

“Zhen Yan no longer exists. All that is here is Wen Kexing.”

“I understand. I see who you are now. I want who you are now, here, with me. Please don’t make me go.”

The determined look on Wen Kexing’s face dissolved. He raised his fingers and clasped Zhou Zishu’s hand, finally leaning into the touch. “I never wanted you to go,” he said, his voice trembling.

“I never wanted to go.”

Zhou Zishu pulled Wen Kexing into a soft, gentle kiss, followed by a strong embrace. He was not going to let go this time. Not ever.

“Master!” Gu Xiang called. The two let go to watch her run toward them and land beside him, checking him over. Luo Fumeng followed her path to them at a much more restrained pace, but she did not seem to look as concerned as she did when Zhou Zishu saw her earlier.

“I’m fine, silly girl. Don’t fuss over me when we’re being attacked,” Wen Kexing said, but he grasped her arm fondly.

Gu Xiang made a frustrated expression and said, “It’s over. Aunt Luo took care of it.”

“They clearly believed we were defenseless and ill-prepared,” she said with a smirk. “They were very surprised to find themselves faced with quite a resistance.”

“I guess the little visit to the village was worth it then?” Wen Kexing asked with a smirk.

“You planned this?” Zhou Zishu asked.

Wen Kexing gave an assenting nod. He moved as though trying to get up from the floor, but Zhou Zishu quickly stood and offered his hand to help him stand. “There were murmurs of the Scorpions planning a raid when they could not locate the key after attacking Prince Jin’s palace,” Wen Kexing said. “The rumors that we spread of its location could only continue until it was obvious it would not be found there. Of course, they were supposed to get their hands on a decoy to distract them for a while. But then you refused to play along.”

“A decoy? This?” Zhou Zishu asked, raising the chain from his neck.

“I can still get it to him, Master,” Gu Xiang said, holding out her hand to Zhou Zishu.

“You too?” he asked, wounded. “You were going to send me away?”

She made a scoffing noise. “I was always going to ruin that part of Master’s plan. And he knew it. That’s why he kept sending me away.”

Wen Kexing rolled his eyes. “I suppose our one mistake was assuming we had a bit more time. A-Xiang, if you plan to move forward just be careful. The boy from the Jing Hu sect is willing to help, but there are others with him who might not be as loyal to A-Xu.”

“The boy? Zhang Chenling?” When they discussed a plan he had no idea the lengths that Wen Kexing had already put in place. He would be annoyed if he was not so thoroughly impressed.

“Yes, he agreed to help when he received your letter. He was determined to help when he discovered someone he admired so much was in trouble. Based on his reaction, I think it would be fair to say he would be interested in being your disciple, A-Xu,” Wen Kexing said, flapping his fan in what looked to be almost a jealous flourish.

“Then that would make you his junior master.” Wen Kexing looked at Zhou Zishu sidelong, but his mouth turned at the edges. He was clearly pleased by the acknowledgement of connection. They were still part of the same sect no matter what had happened in the intervening years.

“He also agreed to work with your consort from the Imperial Court to get the true key to those who would not use the world’s armory for corrupt purposes.”

Realization dawned on him. The precious item his mother had asked Wen Kexing to protect. Zhou Zishu raised his hand to his head and touched the ivory hairpin. “Hiding in plain sight. So clever.”

“I’m a very wise man.”

“That you are, Lao Wen.”

“We’ll need to find a new way to get it to its new guardian. Will you accompany me on one more mission to pass this on to those who will use it wisely, A-Xu?”

“I will accompany you anywhere, Zhiji.”

EPILOGUE

After years of death and despair, rebuilding still came quietly, slowly. And yet, the word of the newest power spread quickly, led by Jing Beiyuan and Wu Xi, set to distribute the supplies from the World’s Armory and bring the lands far and wide out of the famine.

Once Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishu had turned the key over to them, they made quick work of gathering the resources there meant to bring calm to the martial arts world, at least for now. Those who had once built the World’s Armory knew what Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishu had discovered, that strife in the world was not a possibility, it was a guarantee. Those who were smart would prepare to weather it. That’s what true survivors did.

Once food was plentiful and the lands were replenished, the conflicts were quelled, although Zhou Zishu knew it was likely only temporary. Still, he would take all the peace he could get in this life.

The waters had come back in the small lagoon that had been a refuge in their youth. The lands around were green again and the wildlife fully returned. It did not take much coaxing by Wen Kexing for Zhou Zishu to agree to build a small cabin there, a place to live the life they both wanted.

“Aunt Luo has sent us another cart of supplies. Her letter said the fields have been producing well,” Zhou Zishu said, placing one of the cartons from the cart on the table. He opened the top and excitedly pulled out one of a row of bottles. “Lao Wen, look.”

“What does she want? She knows we’re retired.”

Zhou Zishu frowned. “Her letter isn’t asking for anything.”

“You think she’s sending us liquor to be nice? You just wait. Being the Queen of Ghost Valley is not easy. She obviously needs consultation from one who has such extensive experience.”

“Oh yes,” Zhou Zishu said in mock agreement. “She most definitely can’t manage without you.”

Wen Kexing hooked his chin over Zhou Zishu’s shoulder, pretending as though the purpose was to inspect the gift, rather than to press close to Zhou Zishu. They both knew better.

“Perhaps she is trying to get you to go deal with that foolish girl and her dowry. I already told Luo Fumeng that was her problem now,” Wen Kexing said, now sliding his arms around Zhou Zishu’s waist.

“Perhaps,” Zhou Zishu said, enjoying the idea that he could play the role of Gu Xiang’s family in those kinds of discussions. Despite Wen Kexing’s complaints, Zhou Zishu knew he would be happy to do the same.

“I suppose if they all will be coming with their problems then we should not delay in enjoying this,” Wen Kexing said, opening up a bottle.

“Already?” Zhou Zishu asked. “You haven’t even made a meal yet.”

“Then I suppose you will have to help me. But don’t touch the spices. You can’t be trusted.”

“Yes, Zhiji,” he said, knowing how much Wen Kexing enjoyed hearing Zhou Zishu naming him this way.

“Fine, fine,” Wen Kexing said with a sigh, all fight melted away. “I’ll start dinner.”

Zhou Zishu put down the wine and twisted in Wen Kexing’s grasp to face him. “Excellent. I’m very hungry.”

Wen Kexing raised his thumb to brush across Zhou Zishu’s lip and then hooked it into his mouth, parting his lips. Zhou Zishu grasped Wen Kexing’s robes and pulled him to his open mouth, their kiss deepening quickly.

Wen Kexing always kissed Zhou Zishu like it was the first time. Like it was the last time. Like it was the only time.

Zhou Zishu could have been content to just be like this, their mouths moving together, their tongues tasting one another, but Wen Kexing broke their embrace after only a brief interlude. Zhou Zishu made a little noise of disappointment, but allowed his attention to be refocused.

“Dinner first. You have to be more patient.”

“Oh, so I’m the impatient one?” Zhou Zishu said with a delighted laugh.

“I know, it’s unfair. I am very hard to resist.”

“This is true,” Zhou Zishu agreed with a nod. Although they were set to teasing one another, in truth, Zhou Zishu had never been able to resist Wen Kexing. He wasn’t about to start attempting to do so now.

Wen Kexing’s face warmed to a light shade of pink. He always had a lot to say until Zhou Zishu admitted to his feelings. He became suddenly busy organizing the crate and picked up a few of the bottles and other smaller items that were packed in with them. “You must come keep me company while I cook, Zhiji.”

Zhou Zishu wrapped his fingers around Wen Kexing’s hand where he was holding the items, and took them from him. He stood at the ready to bring the supplies wherever Wen Kexing needed them, holding out his hand as an offer. “Wherever you go, I will follow,” he said with a smirk.

Wen Kexing clicked his tongue in what Zhou Zishu knew was mock annoyance. Still, he smiled as he took Zhou Zishu’s hand and brought him along, both keeping their promise to never leave the other behind again.