Chapter 53: Kuaiji Part 2

In the main hall, everyone dispersed. As Wu Yingzong cleared the table, he said, “Lord Xiao, word from the Ministry of War: at dusk, the Song Army left the city to officially provide disaster relief to your clansmen, ensuring they eat their fill first. Tomorrow at dawn, the migration caravans will depart. You needn’t worry anymore.”

Xiao Kun nodded. “Good. Got it.”

After dinner, he entered Xiang Xian’s bedroom and sat by the bed, watching him.

Xiang Xian’s brows had relaxed, as if he had returned to his usual carefree self, save for the tear stains at his eyes.

Xiao Kun reached out and gently wiped away the tears.

Xiang Xian’s lips were rosy, his features sharp. Xiao Kun removed his outer robe, undressed himself, lay on the bed, and pulled him into his arms from the side.

Xiang Xian pillowed his head on Xiao Kun’s arm. Moments later, he shifted on his own, hugging Xiao Kun’s waist and burying his face in his chest. His breaths synced with Xiao Kun’s strong heartbeat.

Xiang Xian slept deeply until noon the next day. Waking to find himself in Xiao Kun’s arms didn’t surprise him—it felt natural. He simply sat there in a daze.

Wu Yingzong had rushed mourning clothes overnight—Song custom was black within, white without. Xiao Kun helped him don the Mourning Crown.

“Got the Wisdom Sword on you?” Xiao Kun asked as they returned to the hall.

“No,” Xiang Xian said. “Leave it at the Division to suppress evil. The demonic qi source isn’t found yet—be careful. A Huang, you stay here too. Send a bird if anything comes up. And don’t get shot down by pellets this time.”

“Mm.” A Huang replied. Xiang Xian ruffled the feathers on its head and said to Xiao Kun, “Kuaiji is over a thousand li from Kaifeng. The Echoing Voice Insect can’t transmit that far.”

“Don’t worry.” Xiao Kun said.

Xiang Xian ate a simple breakfast, knowing little needed saying with Xiao Kun holding the fort at the Exorcism Division. Things were different now; Xiang Xian no longer bore such heavy burdens alone—Xiao Kun shared them.

“After the first seven days, I’ll come back,” Xiang Xian said. Having weathered the initial shock, his spirits had recovered. He told his companions, “Don’t miss me too much.”

“Go on.” Chaosheng pulled out a slender branch wrapped in talismanic rune-embroidered cloth. “Here, for you. Stick it by your family gate.”

“The Sheng Rong Technique, to bless my house with thriving descendants?” Xiang Xian said. “My line has been single-generation for four generations.”

“Your extended family too,” Chaosheng explained.

Aside from Xiang Xian and Chaosheng, everyone else had experienced parental loss: Xiao Kun fatherless and motherless from childhood; Wu Yingzong’s ape parents with lifespans of mere thirty years; Hulü Guang motherless, his mother long dead; Mu Qingshan’s entire clan wiped out by the Black-Winged Great Peng.

Though they offered few words of comfort, they shared an understanding—this was a lesson everyone faced in life.

After a simple farewell, Xiang Xian donned his mourning clothes and left the Exorcism Division gates for the wharf outside the city.

The left Stone Lion said, “Master! Our condolences!”

The right Stone Lion said, “Master! Look on the bright side! Reincarnation has its cycle!”

“Got it!” Xiang Xian was almost exasperated and casually patted the two stone lions.

Xiao Kun said, “I’ll see you off. Let’s go.”

Wu Yingzong followed out. “Master, the Qiankun Bag has Kaifeng specialties prepared for you.”

Xiang Xian nodded. Wu Yingzong added, “Master.”

At the city gate, after a long pause, Wu Yingzong said, “Great Grandpa lived a life benefiting the township. At seventy, he passed peacefully in old age without illness—a joyous funeral.”

Xiang Xian knew Wu Yingzong, though not eloquent, wanted to comfort and accompany him. He patted his shoulder.

“Life between heaven and earth is like a fleeting traveler.” Xiang Xian sighed. “I only regret not being at my father’s side in his final moments.”

“Master saved hundreds of thousands of lives outside Gaochang City,” Wu Yingzong said. “Compared to this, I think Great Grandpa would rather you be in the Western Regions.”

Xiang Xian nodded. Wu Yingzong bowed deeply and watched as Xiao Kun and Xiang Xian headed to the wharf.

Xiang Xian saw cargo being unloaded at the distant wharf but no boat in sight. He asked Xiao Kun, “Did you arrange a ship for me?”

“Mm,” Xiao Kun said gravely. “It’ll be here any moment.”

Though Xiang Xian’s brows were still knit, he had come to terms much more than the night before, no longer shrouded in grief’s clouds. He looked around and at Xiao Kun. “Everything at the Division is yours now.”

Xiao Kun replied candidly, “With Old Wu and the others, nothing will go wrong. You’ll be back soon, right?”

Xiang Xian studied Xiao Kun and suddenly realized this was their first proper farewell since reuniting outside Chengdu.

In these past six months, they had done everything together, becoming inseparable parts of each other’s lives. Now, they faced parting.

For Xiang Xian, this companionship felt like several lifetimes.

“It’s suddenly so unfamiliar.” Xiang Xian said.

Xiao Kun extended a hand. Xiang Xian took it, and they embraced.

“Then don’t part.” Xiao Kun held him and said.

Xiang Xian: “?”

In an instant, the Golden Dragon shot into the sky!

Xiang Xian shouted as Xiao Kun held him. The Golden Dragon ascended, carrying them into the heavens. Many at the wharf spotted the dragon’s form, gazing skyward and crying out.

The dragon body streaked through the clouds, then dove, piercing the mists toward the southeast. Xiang Xian’s body nearly flew horizontal as he yelled, “Hey! Don’t prank me!”