Chapter Text
“Aren’t you going to ask me what my name is?” the stranger asked after a few minutes of walking. His mouth was very close to Xiao Xingchen’s ear due to the way Xiao Xingchen was carrying him on his back, and he could feel the soft breaths of air against his skin as the man spoke.
“If you want to tell me, you can,” Xiao Xingchen replied. “We all have pasts and secrets. I am not entitled to yours if you don’t want to share.”
“Well, I want you to share. What's a blind cultivator like you doing so far away from civilization?”
Xiao Xingchen didn’t know what to say. His first instinct was to tell the truth, but the truth was so strange that his new companion probably wouldn’t even believe him.
“What?” the stranger pressed on when it became clear that Xiao Xingchen wouldn’t respond. “Just because you’re all conscientious about not being too pushy doesn’t mean I’m the same way.”
Xiao Xingchen laughed, despite himself.
“I failed a mission,” was the explanation he decided on. “I let a lot of people down, and this is my consequence to bear.”
“Damn, I would’ve thought you were too good to fail, considering how cool your sword looks,” the stranger replied. “I didn’t think you’d have a backstory like that.”
Not only had Xiao Xingchen failed once, he had failed every time. But it probably wouldn’t improve morale if he mentioned that, so he kept it to himself. His current sword wasn’t even his own sword, but he supposed it was quite powerful. It probably clashed horribly with his white robes now that he thought about it.
“For what it’s worth, I can keep us safe from regular ghosts and monsters just fine,” he said. “That was no regular mission.”
“But you can’t even see,” the stranger said, his voice pitching up towards a whine. “How can you keep us safe from anything if you can’t even see the threats?”
“My sword can sense the presence of evil spirits,” Xiao Xingchen explained. The moment the words left his mouth, he realized that the statement was no longer true.
The stranger tensed briefly. “What?”
Xiao Xingchen supposed it had to be a somewhat strange concept for a regular mortal with no knowledge of the cultivation world.
“Never mind,” he sighed. “Pretend you didn’t hear that.”
He didn’t want to admit that not only was he wrong, he also had no idea what his current sword’s actual ability was. Sure, it seemed to be able to kill immortals, but that was not going to be of any use down here.
Without Shuanghua, it would be harder to track his targets, but he was still reasonably confident that he could hold his own in combat. He had trained while blindfolded before, as an exercise to become more attuned to Shuanghua’s signals. Once he was close enough to an opponent to hear and feel their moves, he could be a formidable opponent even without the use of vision. He could make this work. He had to.
“You could give me the sword and teach me to fight,” the stranger said, giving him a little nudge on the shoulder.
“I’m afraid it’s actually easier to fight without eyes than without legs,” Xiao Xingchen replied. And swordsmanship takes years to learn, even if you have a natural gift for cultivation. He decided not to say that last bit aloud.
“When I get my legs back, then.”
The stranger was oddly insistent. There was something childishly endearing about it.
“If I really do teach you cultivation, you’ll have to get your own sword, customized to your fighting style. You shouldn’t use this one,” Xiao Xingchen said. No one deserved to wield as horrible a blade as the one he currently had.
The stranger let out a thoughtful “hmm” before relaxing and resting his head on Xiao Xingchen’s shoulder.
They spent the rest of the day’s trek bantering back and forth, stopping every once in a while to drink from the stream and survey their surroundings. It was surprisingly easy to fall into a conversational rhythm with his new friend. He had expected pure suffering after what he had done earlier that day in heaven. He didn’t even have to stretch to find the silver lining.
—
Xue Yang was at the end of his rope. He had almost died at the hands of a righteous, self-sacrificing immortal god, the type of person he hated most. Then, said god had descended to the mortal realm just to what? Mock him? He wouldn’t even give Xue Yang his own sword back. Worst of all, he was hiding all of it under this disgusting guise of kindness.
And now? Now his newly mortal Daozhang was apologizing for inconveniencing the owner of an inn despite the fact that it was she who should have been apologizing to them for denying them a room.
It was a miracle that Xue Yang hadn’t killed anyone yet today. Well, technically he had killed people today, but it wasn’t on the mortal plane, so it didn’t count.
He could feel the other man’s legs trembling from the strain of carrying Xue Yang around with him all day. If they didn’t rest soon, the guy might just keel over and die, and Xue Yang wouldn’t even have to kill him to make it happen. Reluctantly, he pulled an object out of his pocket.
It was risky, but he didn’t have any better ideas.
Xue Yang presented the seal of the Jin clan to the innkeeper. Jin Guangyao hadn’t been able to take it back after he abruptly left, and he was intending to milk that family name for all it was worth. The innkeeper's eyes widened a comical amount as she opened her mouth to apologize. Xue Yang cut her off by making a neck-slicing motion with his finger.
“Stop talking. Just give us a room,” he snapped.
Beneath him, his Daozhang hurried to apologize.
“I’m so sorry, my friend has had a very long day, and—”
He was cut off before he could finish.
“No worries, we actually do have one room available. I had missed it earlier,” the innkeeper said, her tone contrite and tinged with fear. “But you’ll have to check out before the guest arrives tomorrow afternoon.”
When they finally reached their room, the fallen god unceremoniously dumped Xue Yang onto the bed before collapsing onto the floor himself.
Two rooms, Xue Yang realized belatedly. He should have asked for two rooms.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t exactly chase down the innkeeper to make this demand, and something told him his new traveling partner wasn’t going to aid him in that endeavor.
“You didn’t have to be so rude to that poor woman.”
See? Righteous and self-sacrificing. Insufferable.
“Actually, I did,” Xue Yang retorted. “Unless you want to sleep on the streets, in which case, suit yourself.”
The man had no response to that. When he did finally speak, it was to completely change the subject.
“I still won’t ask your name, but you can call me A-Chen, if you want.”
Chen. The only god Xue Yang knew of with that word in his name was Xiao Xingchen, supposed cultivation prodigy who had left his isolated monastic life to help the common people, then ascended because of how holy and perfect and morally upstanding he was. That explained a lot. He was one of the top names in Xue Yang’s heavenly hit list for good reason, and now he was Xue Yang’s primary mode of transportation. Fate really did have a sense of humor.
“You can call me A-Mei,” he said. He didn’t want to know what strange pet name he’d get assigned if he didn’t give his new companion a name to use. He had based his fake name on his courtesy name. That way, he could still leverage his real identity if it became necessary, but wouldn’t immediately give away any obvious personal information.
“Good night, A-Mei.” Xiao Xingchen’s voice was soft and comforting as he spoke. Xue Yang had to admit that he was very good at keeping up his whole genuine kindness act.
The man hadn’t even tried to make himself comfortable in any way. He had simply curled up on the floor, no blanket, no pillow, fully dressed, with a sword attached to his hip.
“Are you seriously going to sleep like that?” Xue Yang asked. He wasn’t going to offer to change this arrangement, he was just genuinely baffled.
“You are injured. You should have the bed.” Xiao Xingchen spoke decisively, and Xue Yang wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
It was not any feeling of guilt, but rather the pain in Xue Yang’s legs, which kept him up for an annoyingly long time.
—
Xiao Xingchen awoke to the smell of sugar.
“You’re finally up.”
Xiao Xingchen turned his head in the direction of the voice.
“It’s almost noon,” his companion, A-Mei, said.
“Oh,” Xiao Xingchen replied. At least it wasn’t too late to miss the check out deadline, but he still felt slightly bad for waking up late for the first time in centuries. “I can’t see the sun, so…”
He hadn’t really had time to think about the consequences of giving up his eyes when he did it. Even if he had, not being able to naturally wake up in time with the sunrise was not one of the obvious side effects he would’ve considered.
“You can wake me up if you need,” he said.
“Why would I do that?” A-Mei asked.
“You sounded vaguely annoyed that I wasn’t up yet, that’s all. I didn’t mean to inconvenience you.”
A-Mei didn’t respond. Instead, Xiao Xingchen felt an object being placed into his hands.
“It’s a red bean bun,” A-Mei explained.
The bun was cold and slightly stiff, probably due to sitting out for however long it had before he had woken up. He ate it anyway. It was a little too sweet and a little too doughy, but he supposed he would have to stop comparing any foods to the ones in heaven from now on.
Clearly, his mild disappointment had shown on his face. Once he finished his first bite, A-Mei spoke again, voice laced with sarcasm.
“Sorry it’s stale. They stopped doing room service hours ago. I was going to get you a fresh one from the cart on the street downstairs, but I didn’t want to scare everyone with all the blood from reopening my leg wounds.”
Xiao Xingchen tried to hold back his laughter but couldn’t. He knew it was probably the intended response, but laughing at his companion’s misfortune still felt slightly wrong.
“No need,” he said when his laughter died down. “I appreciate the food, thank you for getting me breakfast.”
“I can’t have you keeling over from lack of food when you’re carrying me around.”
Shortly after a breakfast of mostly desserts (Xiao Xingchen considered asking why, but decided against it since A-Mei was already a bit touchy about his judgements toward the food he received), they were ready to set off to find proper permanent shelter and medical attention.
“Leave the talking to me this time, please,” Xiao Xingchen said as he carried A-Mei down the stairs toward the front desk.
“We don’t have any money, so I think my methods might be more effective,” came the response next to his ear.
“What methods?” Xiao Xingchen asked. He knew that something had happened with the innkeeper and his companion last night, but he didn’t have any details.
“I can be very convincing,” A-Mei replied. “Even more so if you let me have Jiangzai.”
“What’s Jiangzai?” Xiao Xingchen didn’t know of anything or anyone with that name.
“The sword.” A-Mei must have read the name on the blade at some point last night. Xiao Xingchen was as offended at the invasion of privacy as he was thankful for the information. It was good to know the name of the weapon that he was pretending was his, in case anyone asked. All things considered, Xue Yang had named his blade very appropriately.
“No, I’m not letting you have the sword,” Xiao Xingchen replied. He was lucky he couldn’t see the innkeeper’s disgusted face as they had this conversation in plain view and earshot, only a few steps away from her counter.
“We’re staying for a few more nights,” A-Mei said loudly, turning his head toward the innkeeper. Xiao Xingchen immediately noticed the change, since there was no breath against his ear from these words like there had been for all the others.
“Of course, gentlemen. The stay is on us, no sword required,” the innkeeper replied tersely.
Xiao Xingchen wanted the ground to swallow him up.
“See? Told you I was very convincing.”
If he had eyes, Xiao Xingchen would’ve rolled them. Instead, he put his head down and let himself be guided out the door in shame.
“So ungrateful,” A-Mei’s voice would’ve sounded normal in a standard conversation, but felt unreasonably loud up against Xiao Xingchen’s ear. “I get a ‘thank you’ for one measly bun but nothing for a free stay at a decent inn?”
He sounded like his normal teasing self, but there was an undercurrent of genuine anger in A-Mei’s tone that sent a shiver down Xiao Xingchen’s spine. Perhaps he was being a little too hard on his companion. If it weren’t for A-Mei, he’d probably have spent the night in the cold, sleeping exposed in a field in the middle of nowhere. His cultivator’s robes and sword would’ve probably gotten him a few days of pity housing with a minor cultivation clan, but A-Mei was a normal civilian. With no money and no status, he had been left to die. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and if intimidation was the only path to survival, Xiao Xingchen supposed he could understand.
“It’s not that I want to be ungrateful,” he said. “I do appreciate everything you’ve done for me and I know that I would be much worse off without you. I just don’t want to encourage threats and violence when they can be avoided, that’s all.”
A-Mei let out a little snort.
“If you’re such a pacifist, you should give me Jiangzai,” came his response.
Xiao Xingchen sighed and turned his head away to hide the small smile he couldn’t suppress. He had only known A-Mei for a day, but he really should’ve seen that one coming.
—
Xue Yang wanted to stretch his legs, but Xiao Xingchen didn’t let him. The given reasoning was that he wanted Xue Yang’s legs to heal sufficiently before he put any weight on them, but Xue Yang knew better. He was a prisoner in their arrangement, too disabled to leave on his own, bound to what little freedom Xiao Xingchen allowed him to have.
“You’re going to end up with a permanent limp if you try to go off on your own in your current state,” the fallen god had said. He wore a soft smile as he spoke, and it scared Xue Yang how genuine that smile looked. It was almost like he cared. But of course he didn’t. He had sacrificed his own core just to destroy Xue Yang, after all.
Xue Yang had almost tried to stand up and walk off out of spite, but to his surprise, he had found himself being scooped up and placed on Xiao Xingchen’s back, just like he had been yesterday. He made a sharp sound of surprise as he was expertly handled, but his arms automatically wrapped around Xiao Xingchen’s neck as if he were dead and being compelled by one of his own corpse controlling nails.
“Where would you like to go? I’ll take you.”
That was what led them to their current situation, standing awkwardly outside the inn’s entrance, with Xiao Xingchen sightlessly staring off into nothingness and Xue Yang anxiously taking in the daytime view of their surroundings for the first time.
The town itself was small and dusty. The few permanent shops that existed had worn hand-painted signs, and the townspeople were dressed in simple robes made of coarse cotton. Luckily, no one seemed to recognize Xue Yang, though the pair did get some stares. Whether it was Xiao Xingchen’s blindfold, Xue Yang on his back, or their general obvious out-of-place-ness, he would never know.
“Pick a direction, left or right,” Xue Yang said.
Xiao Xingchen thought for a couple seconds, then went right.
“You can’t see these radishes, but they’re perfect and plump and delicious!”
Xue Yang looked over to see a middle aged man waving a healthy-looking radish from a vegetable selling stall.
“False advertising,” he muttered softly, so that only Xiao Xingchen could hear. “He’s waving around the only good radish in a pile of rotten ones.”
“Mn,” was the only response as they moved on.
“Besides, we can get free room service whenever,” Xue Yang added.
Xiao Xingchen said nothing to that and just pulled Xue Yang up to adjust his grip, jostling the injured man’s legs slightly.
“Ow,” Xue Yang whined, playing up the mild discomfort.
“When you heal up, we’re going to offer to help them cook and clean,” Xiao Xingchen said.
Xue Yang scoffed. He would rather have died in the explosion. At least then he could say that he perished valiantly in an almost-successful attempt to destroy heaven.
“Maybe you will when you heal up,” he said.
He couldn’t see Xiao Xingchen’s frown, but he could feel it in the way his body position changed and his muscles tensed under him.
“I’ll buy you a plate of pastries if you help,” came the eventual response.
(“I’ll buy you a plate of pastries if you help,” Chang Cian had said, handing Xue Yang a letter to deliver. He had accepted it with open hands, all 10 fingers extended.)
“Why? And with what money?” Xue Yang asked, mouth moving on autopilot. He couldn’t really think about what words were coming out of his mouth; his brain was too focused on wondering just how much Xiao Xingchen knew .
“Because all kindness should be rewarded. And cultivators usually get paid, don’t they?” Xiao Xingchen asked, none the wiser. “I prefer not to charge, but I think I could ask for a small stipend.”
But why? Xue Yang wanted to press, but decided against it. Doing so would make him sound too much like a whiny child, even by his own standards.
“Fine, but you have to get the fluffiest ones from that expensive shop over there,” Xue Yang pointed toward a nicely decorated pastry shop in one of the newest-looking buildings on the street before realizing that Xiao Xingchen couldn’t see it.
Xue Yang spent the rest of their little walk describing the (mostly boring) sights to Xiao Xingchen. Though he couldn’t see the facial expressions the man carrying him was making, he could hear and feel the reactions to everything he said.
“There’s a fabric store that says they’re selling silk, but it sure as hell doesn’t look like silk.” That earned him a little snort from Xiao Xingchen and a death glare from the “silk” merchant. Xue Yang wasn’t even being unnecessarily mean with that one. He had spent most of his adult life in silk Jin robes, and he knew his fabrics.
“That pastry shop is fine, but it’s nothing special. I feel like the buns aren’t as fluffy.” An imperceptible shake of Xiao Xingchen’s head, probably for being too judgemental without even trying the food. However, he didn’t take the bait and didn’t insist on trying it, which was disappointing.
“There’s a guy standing over there holding a sign telling you to give me Jiangzai and make me your disciple in cultivation.” Xiao Xingchen couldn’t hold in his laugh after hearing that one. Despite his best efforts, he still let out a cute little giggle that reverberated warmly against Xue Yang’s chest.
“If you pull that shit again I will find you and make you pay in both money and blood.” The person he was speaking to had deliberately tripped Xiao Xingchen for fun, causing him to nearly drop Xue Yang. Somehow, that still wasn’t enough for the righteous ex-god to think it was justified.
“It was just an innocent mistake, no need to get so worked up over it,” he had said, in his usual devastatingly gentle tone.
“You couldn’t see the look on his face,” Xue Yang insisted.
“Have a little faith in my footwork. Besides, it’s not worth it,” Xiao Xingchen responded.
Right. Of course. To a god, no single action of a mortal was worth anything in the grand scheme of eternity.
Xiao Xingchen must have noticed his tense silence, since he followed it up with, “I just don’t want you to get into a fight while you’re still injured.”
“Wouldn’t you want that so you can keep forcing me to be your eyes?” Xue Yang snapped his mouth shut as soon as he finished speaking. Perhaps they had always been dancing around this, but it had previously been an unspoken rule to never mention the fact that neither of them were staying near the other by choice. If Xiao Xingchen left, Xue Yang would be useless for a few days at least, and he knew that.
Xiao Xingchen stopped abruptly.
“Do you feel like I’m forcing you to stay?” His voice was a shaky whisper, tinged with horror. “A-Mei, if you have somewhere to be or someone else to go home to, I won’t stop you. It was never my intent to make you feel trapped in any way.”
Xue Yang stayed silent, glad Xiao Xingchen couldn’t see his face.
“A-Mei, you need to answer me. If you feel at all coerced, I’m going to put you down wherever you want and leave you alone. I’m so sorry for having—”
He had wanted to milk this for longer, but Xue Yang couldn’t help but break into a laugh.
“A-Chen, you’re taking this so seriously.”
Xiao Xingchen’s face scrunched up in confusion.
Xue Yang let out another involuntary chuckle before continuing, “Don’t worry, if I didn’t want to stay with you, I would’ve run away.”
“But you can’t,” Xiao Xingchen replied, sounding genuinely distressed.
That broke Xue Yang again, and he dissolved into a fit of giggles. At this point, people were staring at the scene they were making, but he didn’t care. Xiao Xingchen was playing the concerned stranger so well that it honestly impressed him. Did he really think this act would fool Xue Yang if he kept it up consistently enough?
Or was it not an act at all?
—
Xiao Xingchen spent the rest of that first day confirming that A-Mei was fine with sharing a room with him. He was relieved when the response was an emphatic “yes, I want to stay.” If A-Mei left, Xiao Xingchen knew he would miss the company.
Over the course of a week, A-Mei’s legs healed enough for him to limp around on makeshift crutches, and Xiao Xingchen’s other senses had become more attuned, allowing him to better navigate the world despite his blindness. They still stuck together most of the time, A-Mei leaning on Xiao Xingchen as he guided him and described the environment around them.
Eventually, Xiao Xingchen had to go off on his own. Threats and waving around a mysterious object that apparently commanded respect could only get them so far. After all, even the most powerful people needed to keep up the pretense of paying for things. Xiao Xingchen had taken his white robes to be patched up and washed, bought a proper strip of silk to act as his blindfold, and gotten a bag of candy to give to A-Mei as thanks for sticking around. As such, he found himself in debt and decided to start working to pay it off.
A-Mei had insisted on joining him on his quest to get clients, but he was firm in his refusal. His friend was injured and untrained, and he didn’t want to be responsible for keeping him safe while handling whatever threat he had been hired to subdue. Wandering cultivator was the only job he had ever done, and he was planning to stick with what he knew.
“I’ll carry your sword for you until you get there at least,” A-Mei had insisted. “I won’t get involved in any fighting, I promise.”
Xiao Xingchen almost considered it.
“You’ll be a distraction,” he said, shaking his head.
“I won’t even say anything, and it’s not like you’ll even see me,” came the rebuttal.
“I’ll still know you’re there,” Xiao Xingchen insisted, “and that’ll be distracting.”
“Oh yeah?” Xiao Xingchen could hear the smirk in A-Mei’s voice. He drew in a breath as if to continue, but then paused and let out the breath in a sigh.
“Fine. Go off on your own then. I’ll have a great day without you,” A-Mei huffed.
It was whiny and childish and Xiao Xingchen would’ve admonished him for it if he didn’t find it just the tiniest bit cute.
Very quickly, Xiao Xingchen found himself missing the firm pressure of his friend’s arm and his sharp running commentary about the world around them. The side where A-Mei usually lingered felt overexposed and vulnerable. Finding a client was also an issue, considering he couldn’t see the people around him.
“Is anyone in need of help from a cultivator?” he yelled into the blank void. He received only a couple snickers and a distant “no” in response.
The shop and stall owners were also a bust. Most people seemed doubtful of his abilities due to his blindness, and he had no record to speak of. He had completed more successful missions and fought more monsters than most other cultivators in the mortal realm, but everyone who could corroborate that had died generations ago.
The thought that perhaps he should have given up and just offered to help out at a shop was starting to get louder in his head. His hand instinctively reached for the handle of his sword for comfort, only to be met with an unfamiliar cold grip that wasn’t his own. Would A-Mei leave if Xiao Xingchen couldn’t even provide the little bit of extra money he had promised as his only material contribution to their whole arrangement?
A tap on his shoulder interrupted his thoughts.
“Can I help you?” he asked, turning around.
“Your job is fighting evil, right?” a young girl’s voice asked.
“Yes, more or less,” he replied with a smile.
“Is it just ghosts and monsters, or do you do people too?” she questioned further.
Did he? He had killed people before, but he didn’t want to make a habit (or a career) of it.
“What happened?”
It wasn’t common for someone that young to ask someone to hurt people. The only other child he had known to have such violent desires was Xue Yang.
“Can you follow me for a bit?” she asked hesitantly. “I don’t want to talk out here.”
Xiao Xingchen nodded and let her drag him off somewhere. Maybe an alleyway? He wasn’t sure. A-Mei had been so good at making sure he stayed oriented that his sense of direction was awful without his friend there to help.
“I promise I’ll keep this between us, but if you’re asking me to interfere with mortal lives, I need to know why,” he said when they stopped.
“Mortal lives? What are you, immortal or something?”
Yes, well, no. Not anymore, at least.
“No, sorry, I don’t know why I said that.”
He could imagine the suspicious look on her face, but luckily, she moved on.
“My—” she started, then interrupted herself with a sniffle. “My parents…”
Xiao Xingchen felt something wet drip onto his hand that she was still holding. She squeezed it tightly as she continued through her tears.
“The Jin clan killed my parents.”
Xiao Xingchen’s eye sockets widened underneath his blindfold.
“They made some dumb excuse,” she sobbed. “They said it was treason, but my parents were just farmers. They didn’t do anything!”
How could a farmer even commit treason? The only reasonable explanation would be an attempted coup or revolution, but that wasn’t the sort of thing you could hide from your daughter.
She continued to weep and tell the story of her parents’ death. Apparently, she had snuck out to play in the woods, and heard screaming. Afraid to go back, she hid until the screaming died down, and when she returned home, everyone was dead. Later, she learned that Xue Yang had singlehandedly massacred her entire clan at the behest of the Jin clan. She hadn’t seen any of it happen, but she wanted justice against these faceless people who had torn her life and family to shreds.
“Was there a trial?” Xiao Xingchen asked. It seemed like a cut and dry case of wrongdoing that the court system should have handled.
A pause, then: “Yeah.”
“What was the result?”
“That they deserved it, because of the treason. The whole clan did,” she said. There was something matter-of-fact about the way she said it, despite the fact that she was still grieving and distraught.
Xiao Xingchen didn’t know how to respond. It did make a lot of things make sense, though. He felt strangely comforted by the fact that this reincarnation of Xue Yang had still ended up being incorrigibly evil. When he had seen Xue Yang nursing a golden core and doing proper meditation, there had been a part of him worried that his interference had somehow corrupted the young man. Even after his ascension and subsequent attack on heaven, there had still been a lingering feeling of guilt. Maybe he deserved it, for giving up. Maybe Xue Yang could only thrive if Xiao Xingchen wasn’t there to obsess over whether or not he did. The fact that this Xue Yang wasn’t any better than the others meant that it wasn’t his fault for trying to help in all those previous lives.
“Well obviously they’d say that,” she added when she realized he didn’t have anything to say. “The Jin clan ran the trial.”
“And Xue Yang?” he had considered holding his tongue, but his curiosity got the better of him.
“He wasn’t there. He was ‘away.’ It didn’t matter because they said he was innocent.”
“Well he’s dead now,” he said, “if that makes you feel any better.”
“But the Jin clan is still the biggest clan,” she said. “Everyone still thinks they’re so good and I hate it. I wish everyone could see what they’re really like.”
“Then show me,” Xiao Xingchen replied. “I will judge for myself.”
—
Xue Yang was vibrating with pent up frustration. Without Xiao Xingchen there to help, walking hurt more. He had visited every store in the town enough times that every shopkeeper was afraid of him, and he was bored. Even saying mean things about the people around him wasn’t the same when there wasn’t anyone to pretend to judge him for it while (not so) secretly agreeing with all of his quips. If he wanted that stuck-up righteous cultivator to come back and keep him entertained, that was between him and heaven. It was fun to poke and prod at the man’s calm exterior until it cracked. If lightly needling him was this enjoyable, killing him would be the best day of Xue Yang’s life.
When the doorknob finally turned and a familiar white-robed leg stepped into view, he tried to school his wide grin into a more acceptable smirk before realizing that Xiao Xingchen wouldn’t be able to see the difference. When a second person strolled in alongside him, Xue Yang’s smile dropped completely.
That wasn’t supposed to be possible. He had personally ensured that it wouldn’t be.
But there she was, a young girl. The young girl Xiao Xingchen cheerfully introduced as “A-Qing, from the Tingshan He clan.”