Chapter 20: Qiyun Part 5

The Golden Dragon descended outside Zigui City.

“Yang flowers fall, cuckoos cry in Zigui, hearing that Dragon Mark has crossed the five streams!” Chaosheng had just learned this poem from Wu Yingzong.

“Not that Zigui,” Xiang Xian corrected. “Cuckoo refers to the orioles.”

“Oh oh.” Chaosheng said, “Wow! This place is… uh, Zigui isn’t very lively either.”

Chaosheng loved bustling metropolises, having grown up in the White Jade Palace where heavenly vistas grew tiresome. He yearned to revel in the mortal dust—loving suona horns, gold characters on red paper, gongs and drums at temple fairs. Yes, even as an Immortal, his heart remained utterly vulgar.

“Check into an inn.” Xiao Kun was somewhat fatigued and just wanted rest; he had piloted the Golden Dragon all day.

“I’ll give you a shoulder rub.” Xiang Xian knew he had worn out his superior too much, nearly driving Xiao Kun to temper. He quickly had Wu Yingzong arrange lodging. Zigui’s winter lotus roots were excellent, so he ordered the inn to swiftly prepare a pot of winter lotus root and preserved pork rib soup. A meal of that would set things right.

“Come, lie down.” Xiang Xian massaged Xiao Kun’s shoulders and back, then had him recline in his embrace. The pose seemed highly intimate, but Xiao Kun was too indolent to move and allowed it. Like a favored consort cradling a dazed emperor, Xiang Xian employed all his skills. When he massaged Xiao Kun’s arms and ribs, Xiao Kun felt ticklish and pushed him away. “Enough.”

When Xiao Kun rose, his face had resumed its cold indifference.

“Big Brother, come back to Kaifeng with us tomorrow,” Xiang Xian said suddenly at dinner.

“No,” Xiao Kun replied. “No interest. Too much has happened on this journey; I need to think it over carefully.”

“Ah…” Chaosheng showed a hint of disappointment. The old matters resurfaced, and he realized they were parting. Since leaving Kunlun, he hadn’t grasped that friends could separate, scattered to the four winds.

“Big Brother, will you come find us?” Chaosheng asked.

Xiao Kun didn’t answer, but Xiang Xian said earnestly, “You promised Senior Pixiu to look after Chaosheng.”

Xiao Kun said seriously, “Chaosheng, you must listen to Wu Yingzong and Xiang Xian.”

“Okay.” Chaosheng’s expression dimmed.

Xiao Kun continued, “I must reevaluate and judge Shuhu’s three… two prophecies.”

It was fine if Xiao Kun hadn’t corrected himself, but once he did, the two immediately recalled “falling in love with each other,” making the atmosphere instantly awkward.

After a brief silence:

“I’ll just make a quick stop in Kaifeng to handle some business and return,” Xiang Xian persisted in persuading Xiao Kun. “It won’t delay us long. Then we can all go to Gaochang together, alright?”

“No,” Xiao Kun finally said. “I don’t want to see Guo Jing.”

“I won’t feel at ease if you go to Gaochang alone,” Xiang Xian began to wheedle. “What if there’s danger?”

Xiao Kun fell silent for a moment, about to say something, but changed his words at the last second. “Do you think I’m a child?”

Xiang Xian said, “You can’t expect us to walk back to Kaifeng! It’s over a thousand li from Zigui to Bianjing! Big Brother!”

“So you just want a ride on my dragon?” Xiao Kun grew even more displeased.

“That’s not what I mean.” Xiang Xian raised his hands in surrender. Seeing the two on the verge of quarreling again, Chaosheng quickly interjected, “Let’s drink! Drink up!”

Wu Yingzong hurriedly poured wine for everyone.

“People with simian creases are all so stubborn,” Xiang Xian muttered at last.

“Yes, I am stubborn.” Xiao Kun replied, eschewing the wine as he rose and returned to his room.

Chaosheng watched Xiao Kun’s retreating figure. Young as he was, he tasted for the first time the flavor of “all good things must come to an end,” and couldn’t help sighing.

That night, Xiang Xian drank alone on the first floor of the inn. It was the end of the year; no traveling merchants lodged there anymore, all having returned home for the New Year. Starting tomorrow, local inns would shutter too. Outside, heavy snow fell like goose feathers. Xiang Xian sat on the floor as usual, having the waiter clear the table and bring fresh wine.

Xiao Kun, unlike previous times, did not join him for a couple of cups after dinner but stayed in his room without emerging.

Xiang Xian rested one hand on the windowsill by the table, gazing at the swirling snow outside.

“You really like him,” A Huang said.

Xiang Xian replied, “After Master passed away, I never met anyone else… how to put it? Sigh.”

The year Shen Kuo died, Xiang Xian was only fifteen or sixteen. Though their master-disciple bond lasted a mere eight years, it occupied a profoundly important place in his memories. Sent to Shen Kuo at age seven to learn his craft, in a sense, his master had been even more significant than his parents.

Shen Kuo had taken Xiang Xian to tour the world, showing him famed mountains and rivers, teaching him principles of conduct and duty. Even after Shen Kuo’s death, Xiang Xian often felt a profound loneliness.

What kind of loneliness?

On this night of whirling snow, after a few extra cups, Xiang Xian couldn’t help examining his inner self. With his personality, he could befriend anyone if he wished—the whole world could be his confidants—but he had never found the person who matched his vision of banishing that “loneliness.”

As a famed young exorcist, most he met were ordinary folk who came and went hastily by his side. They couldn’t comprehend the burdens he bore, nor did he wish to burden them with tales.