In the coffin lay a shattered fragment of a Dao heart.
Once a cultivator steps into the Illusory Divine realm, the five viscera and six bowels transform into a small inner world. Through this, one senses the Great Dao and cultivates towards immortality. If the Dao heart is damaged, perfection can never be attained.
But Yin Feixue did not want perfection, nor did he wish to become an immortal. He had many questions about this world, yet when he could not unravel them, he simply ceased to dwell on them.
Perhaps, somewhere unseen, there exists a path beyond the knowing of all living beings, and those who vanished from the Three Realms have, by chance and fate, all found their way there.
If only Xue Cuo were on the other side, it would be unbearably lonely.
Xue Cuo stood beside the coffin when a pair of hands slipped gently around him from behind. Silver hair, smooth as silk, fell across his shoulder.
They said nothing, only gazed at one another in the dim light. Even their heartbeats seemed to grow lighter. Before long, their lips met. It came naturally, their arms tightening around each other. The kiss deepened until their lower abdomens tensed, and a strange sensation like lightning coursed through their backs, leaving waves of numbness behind.
Within the coffin, the shattered fragment of the heart rose soundlessly and returned to its owner, mending what had once been incomplete.
Yin Feixue’s white robes were loosened, left in disarray. His eyes half-lidded, he yielded without restraint. His heated skin and the rise and fall of his muscles, like gentle hills, seemed soft and harmless, laid bare and unguarded. The white tiger ears atop his head twitched restlessly, while his thick, furred tail brushed lightly against the other’s wrist, as though preventing him from withdrawing.
For every inch Xue Cuo retreated, Yin Feixue advanced, until his once immaculate robes were in disorder and that cool, refined face was tinged faintly with red. Only when desire had fully stirred did they finally relent.
They lay entwined, necks crossed together, within the spacious golden coffin.
So passed the night. Before they realised it, the sky had brightened, and a faint dawn light seeped in beyond the tomb.
After leaving the tomb, Xue Cuo had intended to return to Qianyun Marsh. Yin Feixue considered for a moment, then gave a soft laugh. “Is that so? Then go on.”
Xue Cuo meant to do just that, yet after a few steps he paused, a sense of unease stirring within him, and turned back.
Yin Feixue sat before the grave, one leg propped up, casually plucking a fruit from the immortal tree that drooped over it, shaking loose a dusting of fine snow. “Why have you come back?”
Xue Cuo leapt onto the grave and sat beside him, studying him for a moment before snatching the fruit from his hand. “Why do you sound as though you’re hiding something?”
Quick as a flash, Yin Feixue caught his wrist and smiled. “Hiding something? Where would you get that idea? You wish to go home, and it would hardly be proper for me to see you off… it’s only…”
Xue Cuo felt something was off. He had slept for six hundred years, and upon waking had come straight here to dig up the grave; he knew little of anything else, and so hesitated. Lifting his chin, he said, “If you have something to say, say it. Since when did you start hemming and hawing?”
Yin Feixue patted the space beside him, signalling for him to sit and talk properly. Xue Cuo shook his head, refusing to budge, the two of them locked in a silent contest of will.
“Sit.”
“You speak first.”
Yin Feixue raised a brow, then suddenly feinted before yanking hard. Caught off guard, Xue Cuo felt the world spin, and the next moment he was seated firmly in Yin Feixue’s lap, held fast in his arms.
He struggled, but Yin Feixue’s breath brushed against his ear, sending a ticklish shiver down his spine.
Yin Feixue had long anticipated his use of talismans and had already secured his hand, preventing him from moving. Not to be outdone, Xue Cuo parted his lips, barely forming the beginning of a word before he was kissed.
Xue Cuo had roamed the mortal world for many years, yet had never encountered such tactics. His scalp tingled and his face burned. He hurriedly said, “Fine, fine, I concede.”
Yin Feixue smiled, loosening his grip but keeping him arranged as he pleased, seated across his lap and held sideways in his arms like a neatly wrapped dumpling.
Xue Cuo’s expression darkened. He felt as though ants were crawling over his skin and glanced around awkwardly. “This… what sort of posture is this?”
Yin Feixue’s gaze flickered. Leaning in, he murmured a few words into Xue Cuo’s ear. At once, Xue Cuo shook his head repeatedly, eyes wide with alarm, and obediently remained seated. That said, the position was rather comfortable.
After a few more bickers, Xue Cuo remembered his earlier question. “What was it you were going to say?”
Yin Feixue replied, “If you go to Qianyun Marsh first, you will see Ren Shu.”
Xue Cuo brightened immediately, not finding anything amiss. “Ren Shu-gege is there too? Excellent, excellent. How is he now?”
Seeing his delight, Yin Feixue said lazily, “He is doing very well. He follows the Heavenly Lady in cultivation and is now the Grand Elder of the Goddess Temple at Qianyun Marsh.”
Xue Cuo gave an easy smile. “Then I shall go and see him first.”
Yin Feixue fell silent for a moment, his smile turning faintly enigmatic. “You vanished for six hundred years. If you suddenly reappear and go straight to Qianyun Marsh, word will spread, and others will naturally praise the depth of your brotherly bond.”
Xue Cuo slapped his thigh, unbothered. “What of it? Ren Shu-gege helped me greatly back then. We call each other brothers…”
Yin Feixue lowered his head until their noses touched, cutting off his stream of words. Xue Cuo hastily raised a hand to block his face. “A gentleman acts, he does not use his mouth.”
Yin Feixue let out a soft laugh, tone unreadable. “Back then, Kong Yun caused an uproar at the Sage’s domain for your sake, even snapping three feathers from his crown. Now that you have returned, you show such brotherly affection to another. What do you think he will feel?”
Xue Cuo paused, then sat upright, his expression serious. “Xiao Yun may be strong-willed, but he is not unreasonable. He would not hold such things against me.”
Yin Feixue nodded. “Then you may test it.”
Xue Cuo rose in indignation, only to slowly sit back down, sinking into thought. After a while, he said, “In that case, I might go and see shidi-gege first. How is he now?”
Yin Feixue recalled those cold, distant eyes, a trace of admiration stirring within him. “He returned to the mortal world, wandering with sword in hand, seeking enlightenment amid the dust of life. He has roamed for six hundred years, all for the sake of perfecting a single move.”
Xue Cuo sighed in admiration. “With such talent, and yet such diligence. Truly a rarity in ten thousand ages.”
Yin Feixue flicked his forehead lightly. “After you left, he came to mourn you, using that very sword, Si Wuxie.”
“He had intended to abandon the sword and devote himself solely to talismans, but your mother persuaded him otherwise. He secluded himself for half a year, and when he emerged, he cultivated both sword and talisman. He took Si Wuxie with him, and from then on, he has returned to see you every year, without fail, for six hundred years.”
Xue Cuo drew in a sharp breath and fell silent.
Yin Feixue said quietly, “Though he has never said it aloud, I think he has never truly let go.”
Xue Cuo opened his mouth to speak, but Yin Feixue continued, “And your mother, Xue Zhenzhen. She has been searching for you all these years. She finally found some trace of you, only for you to leave her not so much as a strand of hair. I do not know how she felt at the time, but it did not seem good. I asked her to remain in Tiandu City, yet she refused. Though she knew it was hopeless, she still searched for you for six hundred years.”
At this, Xue Cuo fell utterly silent, like a gourd with its mouth sawed off, slumping against Yin Feixue.
“And that little golden dragon,” Yin Feixue went on, “he wept until three bridges collapsed and his crying stirred floods in the South Sea. If he learns you are alive and rushes here, only to find you drinking merrily with others and calling them brothers, what do you think he will do?”
“And that young monk who is forever brawling and stirring up trouble…”
“And the foul-mouthed Daoist who rides a stone dragon. The moment he sees your mother, he cannot even walk straight…”
Xue Cuo felt his teeth ache. He was torn between sighing and wincing, weighing it all before saying, “Then at present, I had best…”
“Hold fast,” Yin Feixue finished for him. His golden eyes shone like molten metal, warm and composed. “Better to send paper cranes to summon them. That way no one’s feelings are hurt. What do you think?”
Xue Cuo nodded. He got to his feet and took a few steps, then turned back to Yin Feixue. “That makes sense. If so, there is no need for me to run about everywhere.”
Yin Feixue embraced him from behind, a quiet breath of relief leaving him as he tightened his arms with satisfaction. “You have always been thoughtful. This is an excellent course. Let us do it so.”
Xue Cuo frowned. “It still feels a little off.”
“You have forgotten to offer incense to the Heavenly Lady,” Yin Feixue said. “Since you were reborn from the Golden Pool, you have answered Her Dao.”
“Right.” Xue Cuo smacked his forehead, slid down from the grave mound, brushed his clothes neatly, and lit three sticks of incense.
The smoke curled upwards in a straight line.
He was still muttering towards the incense burner when suddenly his backside smarted. He looked up at once. Clouds drifted across the sky, and a faint, rudder-shaped apparition flashed past, casting a brief rainbow through the chill of winter.
Once the incense was offered, it was time to send out the paper cranes.
Xue Cuo wrote them one by one, then with a broad sweep of his hand cast them into the air without regard for order. The paper cranes fluttered their little wings and scattered to the four corners of the world.
He and Yin Feixue descended the mountain and returned to Tiandu City, settling into a leisurely life of brewing wine, discussing the Dao, admiring flowers, and strolling with caged birds.
The guards of Tiandu found it all most curious. Their king had remained solitary for six hundred years, only to suddenly bring someone back with him, a person who bore an uncanny resemblance to the late Little Saint of talisman cultivation. Who would believe there was no past entanglement?
Xue Cuo lounged in a teahouse with one leg propped up, cracking melon seeds as he listened to the chatter of the little demons.
The most frequent phrases were “as though the same person”, “strangely familiar”, and “the rivalry of tree peony and peony”.
In their telling, Yin Feixue, that shameless white-haired tiger, had become a tragic, aloof and unyielding demon king. Though he mourned a former love, he remained indomitable, taking a newly returned beauty and doing this and that with him, using his broad and powerful arms to press a human into submission time and again, weaving a tale of pain, regret, and deep, consuming love.
Xue Cuo burst out laughing, collapsing onto the table and scattering peanuts and melon seeds everywhere, drawing the ire of the other patrons.
“What do you know? This is the destined bond between humans and demons!”
“Exactly!”
“Tea master, throw this fellow out, he understands nothing of love between man and demon!”
Midway through the clamour, the crowd abruptly fell silent, a collective intake of breath rippling through them.
Xue Cuo wiped his eyes and looked up, only to see the demon king in black armour and white robes standing stiffly before the table, glancing at the surrounding demons.
A mischievous thought struck him. Propping his chin in one hand, he crooked a finger at him. Yin Feixue frowned slightly, yet still bent down.
Xue Cuo reached out, tugged him close, and half drew him into his arms. He pressed a kiss to Yin Feixue’s cheek and said with a smile, “Tell me, who do I resemble?”
Yin Feixue’s golden pupils narrowed to slits. His ears and tail sprang out at once, twitching uncontrollably. His eyes half-lidded, and in the next instant, the two of them vanished from where they stood, leaving the seed-cracking little demons staring at one another in bewilderment.
One demon dropped to his knees, unable to accept it, scattering seeds everywhere as he trembled. “How could the king…”
Another was wholly unconcerned. “The balance of power has shifted, brother. My condolences.”
“Quick, bring me a brush. Inspiration floods me. I shall surely write a masterpiece to endure the ages!”
Tiandu City was lively and bustling. That evening, fireworks were set off across the entire city.
The night sky glittered with stars, the moon hung high, and warm lantern light filled every street and alley. After their earlier quarrels, demons and humans alike mingled once more, crowding together at a roadside stall to buy glutinous rice cakes.
Fireworks soared and burst into clusters of radiant light.
High within the city, upon a flowering tree, two figures sat leaning against one another. They raised their cups in a shared toast, then quietly drew close.
And so, year after year, they remained.
