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Chapter Text

One month before the fall of Nanhui

The forest is dark. Shuhe, Shen Song and Huo Ying walk together, keeping each other in sight as the flames on the torch in Huo Ying's hand threaten to give out.

"We should return, my King," Huo Ying says.

"Soon. I just want a bit more time," Shuhe takes a deep breath, the air of the forest soothing his mind, filling it with clarity for days to come. Huo Ying knew how important that was for him, especially now that the war was going on full throttle, the kingdom needing its ruler to be sharper than ever. 

"It's getting dark, Shuhe. And Huo Ying's medicine time approaches," Shen Song speaks up.

"That's not-" Huo Ying tries to protest, but Shuhe whips his head around.

"I apologise Huo Ying. Let us return immediately. And Shen Song, give me his new medication's schedule so we don't miss any dose," Shuhe says worridely, his mother hen tendencies coming out.

Shen Song laughs as Huo Ying reddens at the best friends worrying over him. 

"My king, I am already cured, this is just an unnecessary nutrition course Shen Song has put me on," Huo Ying protests and immediately, both the men turn around to glare at him.

"Huo Ying! Do you know how much damage your body took before?! Do you?!" Shen Song shouts as Shuhe nods along.

Shen Song was a full time mother hen after all. Both Shuhe and Huo Ying knew better than to interuppt him in these moments because it was just better for everyone's well being to take the doctor's scoldings. 

"We both worked day and night to ensure you didn't die, Shuhe sent parties upon parties to get every special herb you could need and I stayed awake night after night preparing everything, and now you want to ignore your health and let your body detoriate?!" The angry tirade continues when lightening strikes and a sharp gust of win blows away the torch Huo Ying holds. 

"Oh dear," Shuhe mutters.

Immediately, Huo Ying throws away the extinguished torch and grabs Shen Song and Shuhe. Shen Song picks up the torch anyway, in case they might find more use for it later on. 

"Please stay close to me," Huo Ying says as he starts leading the way back down the forest through memory.

They had trecked further on the hill than they had planned, almost reached near to the top. 

Silence surrounds them, interrupted only through the chirps of insects and the occasional bird returning to his or her nest. Shuhe stares up at them, his gut tightening at the sight, his longing for freedom.. a dream he had long given up on.. raising it's head from the dark sleep he had forced it under. 

Envy wasn't an emotion he was familiar with, despite having much of his desires stolen. Watching the birds make their way home.. well, at least someone could be free. He could only feel a sense of relief.

"Let's take shelter here," Shen Song's voice is swallowed by the darkness as Shuhe and Huo Ying follow his line of sight, a small ruined structure standing before them. 

A temple.

"Hmm," Shuhe agrees absentmindedly, letting Huo Ying guide him through the path, their hands sharing warmth even as his mind is filled with thoughts of the bird.

They step inside the structure, its walls covered with vines, small plants growing between cracked stones and the face of the god practically invisible through the wear and tear of time.

He holds a sword in one hand and a flower in the other.

Shuhe takes out the apple he had in his bag and kneels down to place it at the god's feet. He folds his hands in prayer and closes his eyes. Huo Ying and Shen Song inspect the area, checking the walls for stability and cracks as he offers his prayers.

A story comes to his mind as his friends continue their checks, their voices melding together in a soothing lullaby that has become Shuhe's biggest comfort in the past five years.

"Once upon a time, there was a prince who wished for nothing but the good of his kingdom," his mother's voice echoes in his mind. He was sitting in her lap, Shu Qian sitting on the chair beside her, both the brothers listening attentatively.

"But for all he tried, his kingdom was destined for ruin. He ascended, from mortal to immortal, human to god, and still, he couldn't defy fate. They say, he was the strongest martial god to ever walk the earth, sword in one hand, flower in the other. Beauty as incomparable as his strength. And yet, it all amounted to nothing for he failed to save his people."

"What was his name, mother?" Shuhe asked.

"Xie Lian," she answered.

"But what's the point of the story, mother! It's so depressing," Shu Qian pouted.

"Oh my dear, literature and stories aren't just about happy endings. Sometimes, sad endings are equally as precious, as delicious... maybe even more so," she said, a mischievous smile on her face.

Shuhe had grabbed her hair to play with it, much too used to his mother's ways even at his young age.

They would call her the demoness. The woman with a glare that could silence courts and sword skill that could bring down armies.

And Shuhe was the fragile bird in whom lay the demoness's heart.

If it wasn't for him, would anyone even have been able to kill her? 

But he shooes away those scattered thoughts.

He couldn't protect his mother. It is an old regret that would never die, but one that only strengthens his resolve to protect his people and keep them safe. 

"My lord, Xie Lian. I apologise for any offenses I may have caused or may cause in the future for I do not know if this is truly you," he prays silently in his mind. 

"I only remember the story my later mother told me and pray, not for personal gain, but for my people. My treasuries are almost exhausted, I am but a pauper wearing fancy clothes. Yet all the gold I have left isn't enough to feed all my people or fend off the drought and disease this losing war has brought on our heads."

"The blame lies solely on me. Ziang wages war in his relentless pursuit to capture me, but I cannot give him what he wants. And in the fight of powerful men, not that I have much power left, it is the innocent that pay the price. I beg of you, as I have begged from many gods and many demons before, to show mercy on them and bring relief."

He opens his eyes. Then he laughs. The being, the statue.. he looked even younger than Shuhe. The faded face covered with dust.. he wondered if age meant anything for gods or if this one truly was so young.

Shuhe sighs.

"What am I doing praying to you," he whispers, one hand reaching up to brush away the dirt from that faded face, Shen Song and Huo Ying falling silent where they were sitting together beside a wall, letting Shuhe speak to the statue in silence. 

"You probably needed far more help than I ever did," he continues cleaning the face, wiping away the dirt on his white golden robes. "I am not a god. I wasn't even a dutiful prince like you who would've made a fine king. But I love my people as you did too. Watching them suffer.. I wish I could take all of that away and put it on my head for that's where it belongs. I wish I could help them.. I wish I could've helped you. Is that arrogant of me, Xie Lian? A soon to fall emperor offering empty words of help and a meagre apple to an already fallen god?" Shuhe wipes at his tears, dirt smearing on his face.

"I can't even help myself," he says, finally stepping back. He can't tell if the face looks cleaner. It's too dark.

Lightening strikes.

He turns back to look at Shen Song and Huo Ying, but they're both asleep, Huo Ying's head resting in Shen Song's lap. 

"Shen Song?!" Shuhe's voice trembles in alarm, but as he tries to move towards them, a strange haze spreads around their surroundings.

His head feels muddled, foggy and he stumbles, falling back into the statue's arms, sliding down to rest at its feet, a tinkling sound emerging in his ears.

Bells.

Shuhe closes his eyes to listen carefully as the sound of soft bells echoes closer and closer.

They fall silent.

He opens his eyes to stare at the figure standing at the entrance of the ruined temple. Red butterflies surround the man or demon or god.. Shuhe doesn't know, but those butterflies gravitate to the statue, lighting it up as they perch on it.

"What are you willing to give?" The man asks.

"What you done to them?" Shuhe asks back, gesturing towards Shen Song and Huo Ying.

"They'll wake once our conversation is over. I'll ask again, what are you willing to give?"

Shuhe doesn't answer. The man waits.

"Are you Xie Lian?"

The figure moves closer.

"No, I am not. But I am his most devoted believer. The only one left. The only one who prays to him. For him."

There is almost a possessive edge to his voice that unnerves Shuhe.

"Until now, that is," the man murmers looking at him.

"I can't make you win wars. I won't. I am dead. My interest lies not in the living, but in the remnants of their souls."

Shuhe sits up straighter in excitement.

"So, you're a demon who can save my kingdom? In return for what? My soul?" He asks excitedly.

"Don't be so hasty now, kid."

"Kid," Shuhe laughs in disbelief. When was the last time he was called that? Was it Shu Qian, ruffling his hair as Shuhe protested, his big brother covered in red just like the demon in front of him. Before the black crept into his clothes and soul, his brother too was...

Shuhe leaves that trail of thought.

"But can you? Can you save my kingdom? Just end the drought, at least, even if you won't end the war? I'll give you anything, as long as it comes from me. I do not wish to involve anyone else in such a deal."

"I can bring a rain of blood that can replenish your kingdom's crops and make them bloom to harvest even if the drought doesn't let up."

"A rain of blood?" Shuhe looks at the man carefully. "Is it the blood of my people?"

The man smiles.

"It is.. food. That is all."

Shuhe looks at him, distrust growing.

"Please do not try to trick me. Just.. just be honest. Whatever your intentions, whatever your goals.. I have told you, I am willing to give anything that comes from me, but I will not involve anyone, innocent or guilty, into this deal." 

"Do not worry. Those I wish to trick never realise it. But here I come in good faith.. and for your soul, of course." 

"What exactly will that entail?" Shuhe asks. 

"You will come to my ghost city once you've passed on and serve me in my court."

"I-," Shuhe starts, but then trails off, unsure how to even begin to explain.

"Is that unacceptable?" The man asks. 

"No, I just.. I won't be of any use to you. I won't be able to lead armies, I'm not a killer or a warrior. I mean, I am a killer. I have killed those who needed to die, I have commanded beheadings and poisonings and bloodied my own hands too where needed, but-"

He stops, his heart beating wildly, thoughts running a mile a minute as he thinks of Minister Gu's body falling, twitching as Shen Song's poison courses through his viens and ends his life. The man had looked at Shuhe in his last moments, pain and almost a sense of pride in his eyes that the boy he raised and crowned could kill him.. and Shuhe had kneeled down beside him, gently stroking his brow because despite everything, this man had been a father figure to both him and his brother. If only he hadn't murdered their mother... but then, his brother had already committed patricide. And in doing this, maybe Shuhe felt a bit closer to Shu Qian, the demonic ways of his mother and brother shining in him too for once.

He thinks of the sons of three of his high ranking ministers, men he was told not to punish for the crime of raping 'mere' servants or else their fathers would withdraw their support from Nanhui. The veiled threat had brought smirks on their wretched faces as they had stood shamelessly before their King, but if there was one thing Shuhe enjoyed, it was having people underestimate him. He thinks of a grim smile climbing his own face as he commands Huo Ying to take their heads right away, the glare of his sword bright as Shuhe's court falls into disarray, rapist blood dirtying his precious carpets that he knows the servants will relish burning.

He thinks of the gathering full of men he blew up two years back. Hundreds of lives lost with a fall of Shuhe's hand because there was no other choice, because the rot that had taken root in the entire realm had to be destroyed from the origin point, wiped clean with fire to begin anew. Even if that meant burning in hell for eternity for his crimes, but he was the King and it was his responsibility. He doubts the gods would be understanding of his intentions with such a large death toll, but surely they would see the monstrous men that hid in plain sight, torturing not just Shuhe's people, but people everywhere? He could never forget the dead eyes of the children Huo Ying and the soldiers under his command had managed to rescue. Shen Song had looked over them and reported back to Shuhe with carefully blank eyes, that they had a pulse, but that was all. Like vegetables with beating hearts... and Shuhe had felt such a wave of fury and sadness, his mind at the verge of exploding as he had ordered his spies to infiltrate and bomb the next gathering, taking out not just the leader, but every single man involved in hurting Shuhe's children.. because that's what they were to him, that's what his people were to him, always.

"- but, I will not be able to kill just because you ask it of me. I will not be able to fullfill many of your requests. My mind is.. broken. Try as I might, I am unable to bring it to heel, to make it work as it should, as is normal.. all it wants is my Zither and the freedom of fresh air. I barely make it hold on for the sake of my people because they are my last remaining motivation and muse... so I'm afraid, I will be useless to you," Shuhe swallows back stubborn tears, the self-hate roaring in his ears.

"My incompetence may follow me in death too, cursed as I am with it." 

He wonders what it says about him.. was he truly so useless that even his soul couldn't fetch a good price?

"Incompetence, you say? Is it?" The man questions aloud.

Shuhe doesn't say anything. His throat has closed up, hands gripping the stone feet of the statue as he tries to not let the tears fall.

"Then you shall play the Zither," he finally says.

Shuhe's head whips up as he looks at the man in disbelief.

"You shall play music at my court. I have been looking for a good musician, you see."

They stare at each other.

Could it be? Could it actually be that easy? His brother's words echo in his head, Xiao Shu Qian who said Shuhe's music was all he needed as he ruled, to soothe his worries and calm his mind, his assurances soothing Shuhe far more than himself... but those reassuring words now came into his nightmares, pouring from the broken body of his big brother as his blood stained the snow, pear blossom ashes falling around them, forming a dead crown on Shuhe's head.

So, could it really be so easy? A dream that he had once dreamt of living with his brother, fulfilled by a demon? 

But before he can say anything in response to this exchange that seems too good to be true, his best friend's voice rings out.

"Shuhe!"

Shen Song is awake, glaring at the man. He gets up in a hurry, careful to place Huo Ying's head gently on the floor even in the panic that Shuhe can see rising in his friend's eyes.

"No fucking deal, now get the hell away from him you demon," the doctor snarls.

"Hua Cheng," the man says calmly. "My name is Hua Cheng and I'm not a demon. I am the Ghost King. And how the hell did you wake up?"

Shen Song snorts. His height is no match for Hua Cheng's towering figure and he definitely has no power in front of the man, but he strides forward, keeping himself between Huo Ying's sleeping form and the demon, eyes firmly placed on Shuhe.

"Shuhe, come here."

"Shen Song," Shuhe says pleadingly.

"You are the King!" Shen Song shouts.

You are my best friend, he leaves unsaid.

"Exactly! I am the King! And I can't be first in line on the fighting lines, leading my people to victory or failure, so at least... please, Shen Song, you know me best, don't you? Tell me you understand."

Shen Song wants to scream. He doesn't care about battles and kings and all this madness that surrounds them thanks to Duan Ziang being unable to take a fucking no for an answer. All he cares about are the two men in this room and getting that damn demon or ghost king or whatever away from the both of them, right now.

So he ignores his King.

"You will not take his soul," he says to Hua Cheng.

The ghost looks at him, then he looks at Shuhe who's staring at Shen Song tiredly.

"Well, at least you have better friends than he ever did," Hua Cheng says bitterly, the butterflies perching on Xie Lian's figurine teetering with agitation suddenly.

He stares at the doctor, Shen Song's eyes boring back at him, daring him to touch his friend's soul. 

"Would you like to accompany him?"

"No!" Shuhe shouts and gets up in anger.

"You involve no one else in this deal, especially not him!" He says, casting a worried gaze at his best friend. Shen Song looks back at him exasperatedly with the same expression he gets when he's about to start lecturing Huo Ying and Shuhe on the importance of taking care of their health.

But Shuhe doesn't let him speak. 

"You are making this deal with the King of Nanhui, for his people. Shen Song is one of my people, he is one of my dearest subjects. His soul is not for trade."

"And yours is?!" Shen Song shouts at him, his voice unwavering even as a tear falls down his eye. Shuhe flinches.

Shen Song never cried easily. Even when heartbroken over Huo Ying, he would sit in silence with Shuhe, drinking away his sorrows. Even finding out Ziang's armies had wiped out the medics' tent on the battlefield, killing Shen Song's parents, tears remained a rarity for the doctor. It was only his eyes losing all light that gave any indication of his grief to Shuhe. 

How long had they known each other? He couldn't even remember the first time he met Shen Song, that's how early it was and, yet, his tears were like discovering something brand new about him.

"Shen Song," Shuhe mutters and strides forward, passing the ghost to drag his best friend into his arms.

"Don't cry. Please don't cry."

"You always think less of yourself and let idiots bellitle you! Who said you're incompetent?! Who said your soul is one so easily traded when it is fucking priceless?! Tell me, I'll poison them myself, but don't you dare do this!"

"Shen Song, Shen Song-," but his best friend doesn't stop.

"You've lost your mind. You've really lost your mind, Xiao Shuhe," Shen Song cries, tears now pouring down his face as Shuhe tries to wipe them with little success, panic settling in his heart at the sight of his unshakeable friend breaking down.

How many bodies had Shuhe seen Shen Song inspect without batting an eye? Death was as familiar to the doctor as life, a part of him like breathing. But this was beyond death, this was playing with heaven's will to make trades that should never exist.

Shen Song had accepted the thought of losing Shuhe and Huo Ying to death one day, had accepted the idea that he himself might pass on soon enough if fate was unkind... but what would happen to those who traded their souls? Would there be an afterlife for them? Or would Shen Song not even have a chance to reunite with his friends in death, their trio forever separated by one demon or another, cursed to be apart for eternity?

So, he pleads for sense to prevail.

"We'll win the war Shuhe, we will."

"No, A-Song, we won't," and it's that endearment that Shuhe never uses, an endearment he remembers his own mother using as she picked up a 4 year old Shen Song and threw him into the air, the doctor's mother laughing at the side, watching her beloved with her son, her sharp fingernails gently scratching Shuhe's scalp as he watches along with her.

The queen and her doctor were more married to each other than they ever were to their husbands. Shen Song's mother had helped deliver Shu Qian and Shuhe himself and each of their other dead sibling, often coming by to the palace to check on their health.

She stopped coming by after the Queen was murdered.

They never talk about it. Shuhe isn't even sure if Shen Song remembers, but his own memories of his dead mother refuse to fade.. including how much she loved Shen Song's mother and Shen Song himself.

"Shuhe," he chokes out.

"We won't Shen Song, you know that. We're a fire that's been suffocated for too long. There's no air left for us to breath and burn. Gege won us our last wars, but he's gone and so are all out resources. We are dying embers and Ziang is this close to extinguishing us all."

Shen Song shakes his head in denial, clutching onto Shuhe's robes desperately.

"Win or lose, anything is better than what you're about to do," he whispers, but the rest of what he wants to say gets muffled as Shuhe pulls him into a hug.

"Let me save what I can, Shen Song. And maybe, in our next lives, our mothers get to be together and we get to be brothers, hmm? No stupid boys that break our hearts, just you and me roaming the world like we planned from the start." 

Shen Song's body shakes against his own, wracked with sobs, Shuhe's robes turning wet as they absorb his best friend's tears.

He turns his head to look at Hua Cheng.

"Make him sleep. Please," he pleads through his eyes, hoping the man understands.

Hua Cheng nods and slowly, his best friend relaxes in his arms, Shuhe kneeling down to support Shen Song's asleep figure. 

"I will not involve him. Do not worry," Hua Cheng says from behind him.

"Then it's done? You'll bring the rain and help my people? No tricks?" Shuhe asks, still facing away from him, holding on tightly to Shen Song, eyes on Huo Ying who sleeps peacefully, unaware of everything.

"Yes."

Last day of the battle between Nanhui and Jibei

As Ziang's armies invade further into the battlefield, the skies open up with a shower of rain, ground drinking up every drop like a starved child, the blood of soldiers and generals and kings seeping as one into Nanhui.

From the palace of Nanhui comes the last order from its King - The imperial guards are to disguise themselves as commoners and open the city gates. 

Xiao Shuhe has done all he could. Now he must save as many as he can.

Chapter Text

Jibei 

After the fall of Nanhui and the failed escape of Xiao Shuhe

Shuhe stretches his hand out to feel the rain. The chains don't give his feet enough leave to even get a taste of those drops... free flowing water with more freedom than he was allowed. 

As his tears fall, the rain reaches out, caressing his face, swallowing his tears... he pretends it's his saviors, the god and the ghost coming to comfort him. He prays to Xie Lian and he prays to Hua Cheng, to free him from this hell, from this cage of never ending indignity that eats his soul alive.

After a while, he goes back inside, pouring black paint on a white sheet, brushes discarded as he uses his fingers to bring to life his brother's image. Slowly, Xiao Shu Qian's smile forms on the paper. Shuhe's ankles bleed red as his skin breaks open against the shackles again and he takes a bit of that blood to add the only colour to his brother's image, red staining the white sheet, painting on his gege's beautiful robes. 

The same blood ran through their bodies, the same madness too.. Shuhe wishes he was better at bringing it out like Shu Qian was, but in the end, it would lead them both back to each other as always, wouldn't it? 

After all, hadn't his gege given him the string of fate? The blue zither string, the most precious gift Shuhe ever received, tying them together as family forever. For if lovers could have the red string and soul tying ceremonies, why couldn't brothers and sisters and families too have the blue string and lifetimes together?

Watching his brother throw away that precious gift that he himself had given to Shuhe, had cut him to his soul. It was like Shu Qian threw away their fate, the life they were destined to live together. He remembers returning to that pond at night, wading through the waters to open the box and retrieve the string. He had left the box there, but the string had stayed with him till the day Nanhui had fallen and all his possessions had been taken away by Ziang's people.

He wishes he could get the string back, but even the thought of mentioning it to anyone here.. the very thought of any of these people touching the last good thing his gege ever left for him made his skin crawl.

Shu Qian may have broken his hand, but Ziang broke his mind and spirit and his trust.

So, in the darkness, with just one lamp shining, Shuhe paints and paints, madness coursing through his viens, mind breaking apart at being chained and imprisoned in this cold disgusting place. It makes him yearn for the fires of hell to come and consume him right away, anything to get the hell away from this joke of a life. Wings clipped for one man's selfish desires, the man he trusted and confided in, once upon a time.

Shuhe was left nothing more than a vegetable with a beating heart, like those children Huo Ying found, all those years back.

Finally, he brings out the blue paint, drawing a single zither string beside his brother's image, trailing and trailing until the blue leaves the paper and slides on his own fingers. The blue paint wraps around his fingers like the lost string and he stares at it long enough for his eyes to blur with tears.

Shuhe goes to sleep beside that paper, head resting facing his brother's image, too tired to pretend that the painting was moving. As though he were back in the past again, him and Shu Qian sneaking glances at each other as his brother slowly grows bored of studying and abandons his writing practice to rush over to Shuhe.

Blue smears Shu Qian's face as Shuhe's stained hand strokes the paper, knowing there's no use calling for a rescue.

"Gege, I'm coming to you now."

He talks to Shen Song who... doesn't cry, as usual. 

"What is killing you compared to what you've already done," Shen Song says in a dead voice.

"You are not killing me," Shuhe says sternly.

"I know. I know exactly who is killing you and if it weren't for your orders, I would've ended his life already."

Because for Shen Song, Shuhe would always be his one and only King, the only one he would ever take orders from. And unfortunately for all of them, Shuhe's orders were always to protect Ziang, a courtsey that Ziang and his people failed to reciprocate.

Shen Song wishes he could go back in time to the first day that man came to their home and laid the foundation of ruin.

"You know that's not true. You're a savior, Shen Song. A healer. Killing has never been your nature, no matter who the enemy was," Shuhe's voice gives him no edge for an argument.

"Look where that got us," he replies bitterly. "Never killed anyone except for my best friend."

"You know I'm not going to die.. or vanish completely, at least."

"Yeah yeah, you'll be in a city of ghosts with some weird butterfly demon ghost thingy you sold your soul to."

Shuhe almost wants to laugh. Instead he pulls Shen Song into a hug.

They don't tell Huo Ying.

Let him think Shuhe ran away with Ziang, not turned into a corpse. Let him think Shen Song was back with his parents, not two graves. Let at least one of them find peace and freedom in the world.

And so, they see him off with happy smiles as Ziang and Huai Yi stand some distance away, letting the trio be together one last time.

Not that anyone but Shuhe and Shen Song knew that.

"And you promise to take your pills on time?" Shuhe questions Huo Ying as Shen Song looks through his bag just one more time to be on the safe side.

The image couldn't be more domestic, like two parents seeing off their child for his first solo journey away from home.

"Yes, my King," Huo Ying says with an exasperated laugh.

Shuhe doesn't refute the title. At least someone in this world still has a modicum of respect left for him. He should've known, it would always be these two.

"Okay, the bag is perfect, nothing missing!" Shen Song pats it like a proud mom, hesitating, but then passing it back to Huo Ying. He takes it with a small smile and looks like he's about to say something, but Shen Song turns away before he can.

Shuhe wonders if he should step away and give those two a moment alone.

"You should go. You've an early start, so you can cover a long distance before resting for the night," Shen Song says still not looking at Huo Ying, but Shuhe meets his eyes that are beginning to shine with the first hint of tears and immediately understands.

"He's right. Go quickly," Shuhe pipes on.

Run away. Run away from this horrid place, is all that comes out from their hearts for their last remaining member. 

Shen Song takes a deep breath and turns back to look at the man he has loved so deeply for over a decade. But he can't move, his throat closed up and Shuhe knows there's nothing more to say. So, he steps forward and pulls the both of them into his arms, a moment of paradise for them all, absorbing each other's warmth one last time... and then they break apart.

They watch as Huo Ying moves further and further away, finally taking a turn and dissapearing from view. 

And Shen Song breaks down.

Shuhe gathers him in his arms, watching from the periphery as Ziang and Huai Yi move further away to give the friends some privacy.

"You're all leaving me," Shen Song whispers, his words too light to even escape Shuhe's robes.

"I'm sorry," there's nothing more Shuhe can say to his friend.

"No. They will be sorry. Those two who fucking threw back our kindness in our face and did this to you," Shen Song snarls as he pulls away.

"Our games can't end without a checkmate, right? That's what you always taught me."

"Yes. We don't do stalemates in this family," Shuhe whispers. 

"And once again, you're going to defeat me. Fucking bully," Shen Song smiles bitterly.

"I haven't defeated you yet. The game is still on, my friend. So don't give your moves away," Shuhe smiles back, no light in his eyes, but message well received by his most powerful piece.

That's all they were. Pieces on a board, sometimes the pawns, sometimes the kings, sometimes the stones and sacrifices... and Shuhe wonders who's the sacrifice? Himself, who will be exiting the board shortly, checkmate in hand? Or Shen Song who he leaves behind in danger? 

"Don't," Shen Song whispers. "Don't think. Just forget everything and get married and don't give the moves away," he repeats Shuhe's words back to him and they return back to their prison, a mockery of their old home at Nanhui.

Ziang looks at him with a sad smile, turning to say something to Shen Song, but Shuhe shakes his head in a no.

"I'm going to take Shen Song inside for some tea," he says to the brothers, Huai Yi watching quietly as the two walk back to their rooms. 

Shen Song is silent through it all.

They step inside Shuhe's room and he calls the maid to get them tea, moving towards one of the cabinets to retrieve a Weiqi board. He doesn't even glance at the Chess board, done with the games of kings.

Desired game in hand, he returns to his friend.

It's not the board they're familiar with, Shuhe's worn down set that has seen him and Shen Song play thousands of matches throughout the years. But nothing is familiar anymore, every corner a hell despite looking the same as their old home.

"Want to play a game?"

One last game? Shuhe leaves unsaid, too afraid about the maid or the Duan brothers walking in and hearing.

Shen Song smiles. He knows.

He gestures Shuhe towards the seat in front of him, drinking in his friend as he sets out the board, white stones for Shen Song and black stones for himself.

Shen Song loses. 

This was always a game between them. This life.

They let a new piece enter their board and it ended up taking control for a while, but it was always.. always.. their game. The board was their's and right or wrong, the moves belonged to them.

They were the players. 

Shen Song takes a deep breath as his heart unclenches just a bit at the reminder. 

The game was Shuhe and Shen Song's, Shuhe winning again and again as Shen Song is forced to kill this piece and that piece, dancing along to his king's ruthless moves till the end. 

Shen Song steals the winning stone from Shuhe's hand, who lets it go with a laugh.

"You lost."

"I lost."

He feels the winning stone burn against his chest as he watches Shuhe fall, Ziang looking terrified as he runs to catch him. And it's funny. How many times had he thrown Shuhe to the ground, only to now be running like a mad man to catch a dying body.

Ziang's screams echo around the throne room and Huai Yi keeps looking at a blank faced Shen Song in confusion and slowly dawning realisation.

Blood falls from his brother's lips as he screams and screams, Shuhe cradled in those arms, dead and free.

Shen Song warned Ziang, one too many times. Don't play games with Shuhe.

You won't win.

And now? Game Over.

Checkmate.

Ziang faints in the throne room, falling to the ground still clutching Shuhe's body and the court descends into panic. Huai Yi screams for the imperial doctors as guards come in to take Shuhe's body to the morgue.

Shen Song doesn't spare a glance at the brothers as he walks away with the guards, eyes focused straight ahead, trying to make his periphery stop working so he doesn't have to look at his dead best friend.

The guards lay Shuhe on the stone table, naturally cold due to the underground area and the north's ever burning cold.

The doors close and Shen Song is left alone with Shuhe's body.

The dream returns.

The pear blossom tree stands strong, gentle flowers blooming in all directions, casting a layer of soothing shade for all.

Ziang rests under it with a sigh, peace filling his heart as his ponytail goes askew, bunched up against the tree trunk. 

But something changes this time.

It's like he's there, but watching from far away.

The Ziang under the tree gets up, axe in hand.

"No, stop that," he pleads.

"Relax, it's for his own good," the other him replies.

The axe strikes the trunk and Ziang screams, but he can't stop it because he's the one doing it.

The axe hits the tree again and again, pear blossoms falling all around him as the giant plant destabalises.

"Please," he doesn't know who's the one begging. Is it him or the tree?

But the axe is stuck.

"Wait, what's happening?" The other Ziang asks confused. He pulls at the axe again, but it won't budge.. and then Shen Song is there.

"Help me!"

Again, Ziang doesn't know who's the one begging. Is it him or the tree?

Shen Song takes the axe and pulls it out and the tree falls.

"NO!" The two Ziangs scream as the pear blossom tree falls, turning to ashes before it hits the ground.

Ziang wakes up shaking, the grey of the tree's ashes interuppted by the red wedding decorations hanging in his bedroom, Huai Yi crying at his bed side as the imperial physicians buzz around. 

"Where- Where?" He gasps, falling off the bed as he looks around hope draining, colours fading, the pear blossom ashes flashing all around him.

It wasn't possible.

No, it was just a bad dream created by his mind because it couldn't believe he achieved the greatest happiness last night, all his plans successful as Shuhe became his husband and he became his. 

"Shuhe, where's Shuhe?!" He screams, the room falling silent.

"Gege-,"

"Huai Yi, take me to him, now. I- I need to talk to him. This plan, I think it's too risky, I think-,"

Haui Yi is looking at him, but Ziang doesn't want to read his brother's face, too afraid to see what his eyes are saying to him.

As he gets up, holding onto the bed post to stabilise himself, a butterfly lands on Shuhe's wedding robes still lying to the side. Ziang had instructed the maids to leave the room untouched, wanting everything to remain exactly how it was last night. 

The butterfly's red blends with the robes and she seems to be laughing as she watches Ziang leave the room.

The sound of harried steps echo down into the morgue as Shen Song folds his king's robes, laying them on the table to the side.

He's been down here for a few hours, sitting with Shuhe in silence, then wiping down his body as his mother had taught him since he was young.

They were a family of doctors, but his mother spent almost as much time tending to the dead as she did tending to the living, often guarding the women's bodies from lecherous men whose appetites crossed all boundaries.

She taught Shen Song only when she prepared male bodies for burial, his tiny hands passing on pieces of fresh clothes to her, taking away the dirty ones, changing water, obeying her every intruction... he was his mother's perfect little assistant.

She's gone now. 

Everything is gone now.

Footsteps halt at the entrance, heavy wheezing reaching his ears as Ziang rushes to the morgue, hair falling out from his bun, eyes wild. Huai Yi follows behind looking scared as his brother's body starts resembling a skeleton with every passing second. But Ziang is frozen, looking like he could deny reality if only he didn't step inside, Huai Yi holding him as he sways, unable to stand properly.

"Shen Song, give him the antidote," Ziang says, his voice barely above a whisper, eyes unmoving from Shuhe's body that lies between them on the cold stone table.

Shen Song is done changing Shuhe's clothes to prepare his body for transfer and he picks up a comb to start on his hair, ignoring Ziang.

"What the hell are you doing?! Wake him up! Wake him up or I will kill you!" Ziang's voice is shaking, dying.

"Go ahead," he replies dully as he starts to comb Shuhe's hair, taking out the crown to let it fall freely.

"Don't you want to go back and take care of your parents," Ziang pleads, immediately changing tactics, but his manipulations had stopped working on them a long time back.

"My parents are dead. They were medics on the field during the war. Your army killed them."

Ziang backs away shaking his head.

Shen Song keeps combing Shuhe's hair even though there's hardly any tangles there in the first place. But soon, it will all be buried under the earth, eaten and consumed by her, and Shen Song won't ever be able to look at him again. So, he glides the comb gently through Shuhe's hair, feeling like he's a child again, playing with a cold and unmoving doll.

"Is this revenge?"

"Yes and no. It's revenge and it's freedom. You started this game, Duan Ziang. Did you really think you could put him in chains and he would stay that way? Did you really think you could kill his people and get a fucking happy ending? Did you understand him at all? The depth of his love that made him love you since you were children and never even look at anyone else... did you really think such a heart would treat its own people like discardable pawns?"

Ziang falls to the ground, coughing blood again.

"Stop that," Huai Yi pleads with Shen Song, rushing to hold his brother. 

"You can't bend the rules of warfare or life, even if you're a king," but he's too tired to argue any longer, warmth long leached out of his body like he was the dead too.

"No," Ziang gasps, stumbling inside the room finally, shaking hands reaching out to hold the stone table and flinching away as they come in contact with Shuhe's cold skin.

But Shen Song can't deal with him anymore. The world feels foggy. It's a state the doctor is too familiar with, mind numbing down to see nothing but a corpse, no emotions, nothing.

"The cadaver is starting to stiffen. We must bury him quickly."

"Shut up," Ziang gasps. "He's not dead."

"We have to bury him in Nanhui with his mother," Shen Song talks over him. "My mother buried her in the forest behind our home and it's where Shuhe wanted to be put to rest as well."

Ziang is shaking his head in denial, Huai Yi unable to look at the body on the table.

"You killed him," Ziang whispers.

"Keep blaming others, Duan Ziang. Till the end, you refuse to take accountability for your own actions, but here's the truth. You killed him and I freed him."

It's silent after that, broken only by Ziang's sobs as he keeps apologising to Shuhe, blabbering how he'll restore Nanhui and bring back all the people.. but he can't even bring back his beloved, so how can he ever bring back the thousands that fell in the name of his obsession?

It's nighttime by the time they leave, Ziang and Shen Song sitting in the paliquin carrying Shuhe's body, Huai Yi marching along outside.

Nanhui

The forest behind the Shen residence

Ziang is silent, watching with empty eyes as the guards lower Shuhe's body into the grave.

They finally reached the forest Shuhe had always dreamed of, a beautiful cottage in the middle of it all that was once occupied by Shen Song and his parents.

But Shuhe's dead now, leaving behind a widower and a best friend and a boy who doesn't even know he's gone, travelling the world, thinking everything's fine. 

Ziang breathes in short stilted wheezes, body swaying with each inhale and exhale.

Was it this time yesterday that they were getting married or had they already fallen into each other's arms, Shuhe clutching him tighter than life itself, gasping out his name in broken moans as Ziang worshipped his body like a god... but who put chains on a god?

The sounds of shovels interupt the dark silent night.

The guards have started pouring the soil back into the grave, Shuhe's body slowly dissapearing from view as Shen Song plants incense sticks to the side.

Ziang looks away from the grave feeling faint and his eyes fall on the cottage.

"You said they were alive- during the dinner- your parents-," he breaks off, but Shen Song hears him.

"I lied. Why would I ever give leverage like my parents to the two of you?" He replies monotonously, not moving from Shuhe's side as dirt covers almost everything but his face.

Ziang moves closer, eyes back on his dead husband, tears streaming down his face as Shuhe's face starts to dissapear. 

"Especially after you killed all the imprisoned soldiers and lied to him that you freed them?"

A shuffle behind them.

Huai Yi.

Shen Song doesn't look away from Shuhe as a fight breaks out between the brothers. But it is less a fight and more pleadings from both sides, Ziang begging Huai Yi to tell him he didn't do what Shen Song just said, and Huai Yi stammering between applogies and begging him to calm down, fearing another stroke.

"Don't blame your brother," Shen Song tells Ziang who falls to the ground, clutching his little brother's robes, head shaking, the regret of ruining everything consuming him completely.

"He only followed your example as most little brothers do and he wasn't the one Shuhe was in love with. It was you he loved and so, it was you he expected to respect his dignity and kingdom, but you stripped him of both. Don't try to deflect blame, Ziang. This is all on you."

Ziang falls dead as the last of the dirt finally covers Shuhe's face. He doesn't get up even as Huai Yi pleads and shakes his body, screaming for his gege to come back just like Shuhe used to cry late at night, crawling sobbing into Shen Song's arms, calling for Shu Qian.

"Take him away. Bury him as a King deserves, I don't care.. just get him away from my home," Shen Song says, resting against the earth on Shuhe's tomb.

The guards take away Ziang's body, Huai Yi sitting frozen on the floor in shock, screams gone silent. And, Shen Song notes from the grave, dirt digging in his ear, the boy suddenly looks small. Like when they first met him.

Too bad, Shen Song has run out of sympathy.

"We gave you your brother back. Everything Shuhe did was to unite you both. Why couldn't you both just be grateful? Now look. We're alone," he mutters against the grave, a ringing sensation in his ears as his eyes swim with unshed tears.

Huai Yi gets up, fails, tries again, fails again and then just starts to crawl towards him. 

"Come back with me."

"No."

"Come back with me or I'll find Huo Ying and slit his throat in front of you."

"Do it. I have had a grave ready for him since the first time I found out he was poisoned."

"Please."

"Did you know? The cure we gave Huo Ying? It could cure any poison."

"What?" Huai Yi is still on his knees in front of Shen Song, eyes moving around wildly as his mind seems to stop working.

"Yes, even Ziang. It could've cured him, you know?"

Huai Yi collapses, "Give it to me. Give it to me, I need- I'll cure-,"

"I was never going to use it, of course."

Shen Song would've destroyed every trace of Huo Ying's cure before he let it heal the man who killed his parents. Even if Shuhe commanded him. Thankfully, he never did and Shen Song never asked why.

"-my brother- gege- gege-," Huai Yi can barely get the words out, tears choking him as he begs the unhearing doctor lying on his best friend's grave.

Shen Song remembers when they were both sent away by Shuhe and Hui Ying, the looming threat of Shu Qian making Shuhe move his weakest pieces to safety. He would've sent Ziang away too if only the stubborn man would've allowed it.

But he wouldn't leave Shuhe and he knew his brother would be safe with Shen Song because they were all determined to protect Huai Yi and keep him safe.

How many years had Shuhe spent looking for the Duans? How many years had Shen Song spent helping him trying to find them? It was never just for Ziang's sake, but for a lifetime of searching. And Huai Yi was so young, reminding Shuhe and Shen Song of when Huo Ying had first arrived to the manor, cheeks still maintaining that baby fat.. he was the youngest of them all until Huai Yi's arrival.

What fools they were. Protecting their own destroyers.

Chapter Text

The Ghost City

The chamber is dark, lit only by a small blue glow on the table.

Xie Lian walks inside curiously, mind distracted from his search for San Lang as he finds himself drawn to the zither on the table. A few butterflies follow after him, teetering happily as they land on his head, some going to sit on the instrument. 

Xie Lian strokes a finger over the blue string, it's glow becoming warmer at his touch.

"Gege, do you like it?" Hua Cheng asks, stepping inside the room.

Xie Lian smiles. He never had to wait long for his husband after all. The man comes to stand behind him, hands sliding around his waist, chin on his shoulder and Xie Lian melts back into him. 

"It's beautiful. Where did San Lang get it from?"

"I made it, gege," he smiles proudly.

"Made it?!" Xie Lian asks astonished.

"From a soul I was given. The soul of a King. His kingdom was about to fall and he prayed to-," Hua Cheng falters for half a second, then straightenes up and continues smoothly.

"-to you. At an old temple of yours."

"There's still one standing?" Xie Lian asks surprised.

"I couldn't believe my eyes either," Hua Cheng smiles.

"Hmm. So, San Lang answered his prayers?"

"Yes... No."

Xie Lian tilts his head in confusion.

"He wanted me to save his people. So, I told him that he could be a zither player in my court after his passing. And in return, I would help him."

"I see. So, San Lang did save his kingdom?" Xie Lian asks, still confused.

Hua Cheng doesn't respond. He moves, detaching their bodies and comes to stand beside Xie Lian, staring down at the zither. 

"No."

"I didn't want to," he continues.

"I couldn't save you... I was nothing when your kingdom fell, I had nothing except this ugly body of mine," Xie Lian's hand suddenly spins Hua Cheng towards himself, looking at him with pursed lips at the word usage for his own self, but let's him continue. 

"It's wrong, isn't it? But gege, I couldn't do it... why was it that when I needed my powers the most, I had nothing and had to watch you suffer? And why must I elevate the suffering of those who do not matter to me?" He asks bitterly.

Agitation fills the room, red butterflies fluttering anxiously. Xie Lian feels some more land on him to seek comfort, so he grips San Lang tighter, hoping the comfort reaches them all.

"The man who loved him had a whole kingdom, gege. But, but gege- gege, he used that kingdom to raze him to the ground," he sounds confused like a child, his voice lowering further, until Xie Lian has to bend forward and strain his ears to listen to the muttering. 

"He was a lesson to me.. monitor your obsessions unless they destroy the very thing you crave," Hua Cheng mutters, mind wandering away.

Xie Lian lets out a breath, watching him patiently, waiting for him to return to the present, a hand coming to gently rest on San Lang's cheek.

Hua Cheng smiles and leans his face into the hand, looking deeply into his beloved's eyes. 

"I wish I had a kingdom to protect your home during that time. I would've laid it at your feet, your highness," San Lang sounds so morose that Xie Lian can't help but melt for his precious little butterfly.

"Oh, San Lang," Xie Lian mutters softly, pulling him into his arms and hugging him tightly. He stares down at the zither, the blue of the string almost glowing brighter for a moment, before returning to normal. 

They slowly sink down on the floor, Hua Cheng burying his face in Xie Lian's chest.

"So, what happened with the soul?" Xie Lian asks after a while. Hua Cheng snuggles closer and thinks back.

Shuhe has a beautiful dream as he falls.

Arms come up to hold him and there's screaming around him, but he slips away into a world filled with light.

He walks, a path forming with each step he takes. The road is endless, but familiar. It's the road to his paradise, the little hut with his beautiful tree, a secret he had kept hidden from everyone except a select few. 

The trees on each side of the road seem to bend towards him just a little, giving him shelter from the cold breeze. He doesn't feel much of it either way, but he appreciates the protection. 

It was a long time since he had felt safe.

Finally, the path comes to a halt, a door opening to the side, exactly like it would in the world of the living.

Shuhe steps inside and feels his heart skip a beat.

"Brother?" 

His gege stands under the pear blossom tree, sunlight shining over him and the courtyard, breaking through the clouds to cover them all with a little warmth. 

Xiao Shu Qian looks.. gentler, somehow. Like how he used to be. Sweeter, loving, all arrogance wiped away, surrounded by a halo of light.

He apologises to Shuhe, saying all the things he wishes he had been able to hear from his gege when they were alive.

"I'm sorry." 

"I've been waiting for you."

"Let's go and take a look ahead, shall we?"

And Shuhe has his brother back.

Gege walks away, bells sounding as he goes to sit on the porch, patiently waiting for his little brother to wrap up his business. 

Shuhe only has to wait a short time. He has barely reached out to touch a pear blossom when the sound of his husband calling his name echoes around the courtyard. 

Ziang is wearing his wedding robes, but most importantly, he's the old Ziang, just like his gege. The kinder, gentler version of him that Shuhe had fallen in love with.

And Shuhe has his lover back.

"Shuhe!" Ziang steps inside, an echo of bells chiming along with his steps.

Shuhe smiles and opens his mouth.

"Hua Cheng!" 

Xie Lian runs towards him and ZiangHuaChengShuQian swoops him off his feet, laughing, spinning him around. 

"Your highness, shall we go?" Ziang and Shu Qian ask him smiling, both of them coming to stand on either side of him, the sound of bells almost deafening now.

Red butterflies surround them, landing on Shuhe's chest, summoning a small light. He nods, reaching out to hold their hands as the light grows brighter and deeper. 

It's almost blinding, but it doesn't phase Shuhe. There's no pain. It almost feels comfortable. 

He holds Shu Qian's hand in one palm and Ziang's hand in another palm as the light consumes them completely, as it breaks him open past all cages, breaks him so completely that no one; not god, not ghost, not human; no one could ever steal Xiao Shuhe's freedom again. 

He lets the hands go.

Shuhe closes his eyes, soul shattering through his prison forever, unhearing of Ziang's screams and Shen Song's quiet as he watches his best friend succumb to his poison.

The shards of his soul float away into the air, rising through the roof of the Jibei court, up and up until they're one with the wind... and then they fly away.

A single shard remains, circling around the blank faced Shen Song, coming to rest on his nose, unseen. It lingers there, almost in an apology.

Then a red butterfly carries it away.

"Thank you, Hua Chengzou. May our god bless you."

And with that blessing, comes an end to Xiao Shuhe.

As he scatters and falls, a god rises and ascends to the heavens for the third time.

Xie Lian draws back to look at him.

"You destroyed his soul?"

"Hmm. It's what he wanted. His soul absorbed fully to create an eternal zither for me. Well, the original plan was different. When we spoke at your temple, we struck a deal for him to work at my court for a thousand years and then return to the cycle of reincarnation."

"Oh," Xie Lian says softly.

"But then, he called me after he was imprisoned by his... beloved. He had become too afraid to be born again. To be tied to the chains of life again. He told me, he would prefer to... opt out, if there was any such option."

"Well, he wasn't wrong. Liberation from reincarnation is the ultimate freedom. To be out from this cycle of suffering," Xie Lian sighs.

Hua Cheng looks at him quietly for a moment, everything silent around them.

"I told him about soul destruction. But.. I couldn't do it. Not completely. I told him, I couldn- no, I wouldn't. After all, he prayed to you, so how could I bear to consume his soul completely? He was your worshipper, so the final verdict should be yours."

Hua Cheng takes a deep breath, Xie Lian feeling his chest press against his.

"I left the last piece of him in that blue string. Reluctant as I am to share, I told him if I found my god... our god. That I would show him the zither and let him decide."

Xie Lian looks back at the instrument, the fallen prince at the fallen king and the room falls silent, once more.

Nanhui

There's a woman wearing the uniform of Nanhui's soldiers, floating in the air. Her throat is red from the arrow that's pierced through it. Most of the arrow is gone though, only a chunk of it remaining embedded in her ghostly form. 

Ziang watches as she slowly descends, her loving eyes trained on a woman lifting a pail of water.

"Shao Yao, Shao Yao, my baobei," she calls out in a teasing scolding tone.

"Have you been lifting a lot of those? You know that isn't good for your back, right? I have taught you how to look after yourself, so you better be good!" The ghost woman huffs with her hands on her waist, happily floating behind her beloved, who walks on, oblivious to the ghosts surrounding her.

Nanhui was full of ghosts.

Soldiers, medics, commoners, ministers.

War removed them from the land of the living. Some moved on, but some others remained, stuck in the land of ghosts. Some by choice, others not.

Some ghosts looked at him accusingly, guessing his identity, others roamed around listlessly and few looked downright bored. 

Ziang roams around calling for Shuhe.

"Shuhe, where are you?" He screams. 

There's no response.

He had lingered at Shen Song's cottage for a day. Floated near Shuhe's grave, watching Huai Yi beg Shen Song to come back with him, looking scared at suddenly being left alone again. 

He should've never dragged the younger boy to his wars. Should've never started those wars in the first place. His little brother used to be a sweet child, but now... hadn't he become just like Ziang?

He kept waiting until the sun went up and then went down again. Shen Song had moved inside his cottage and shut the door in Huai Yi's face, the now emperor sitting frozen outside the door.

But there was no sign of Shuhe, so Ziang had to move. He rose through the darkness to float back to Jibei, to his court.. maybe Shuhe's soul was still there.

But there was nothing except for silence. The living walked about, as unhearing of the ghost as they were to him. The only sound he wanted to hear was absent. 

So, he went to the fake manor, but he didn't have high hopes. Why would Shuhe ever return to his prison?

And he was right. Feeling like he was going insane, he flew back to Nanhui, knowing there could be nowhere else.

As he entered the city, he was greeted with a ghostown; literally, metaphorically, in everyway possible really.

Nanhui was full of souls.. except for the one he searched for desperately.

"Shuhe, please come out," Ziang wails, but there's no response. 

He returns to the Nanhui soldier, her ghost still following around her lover.

He wonders if he had just left.. if he had pushed harder for Wen Jing to be given the throne despite their bastard father's dismisal of a female heir.. if he had just gotten the hell away from Jibei with Huai Yi.. if he could've also passed on peacefully, even if Shuhe wasn't with him.. if he could've preserved his little brother's innocence and stopped him from turning into a monster like himself.. if he could've stayed as a ghost and watched his beloved rule like the soldier watches her beloved rule the little buckets of water. 

And maybe, when Shuhe died, he could've been there to welcome him in his arms. In death, all hurt would be wiped clean and their souls could've moved on together.. but Ziang couldn't find a single trace of the person he wanted to move on with.

He steps inside the ruined courtyard of Shuhe's paradise.

The pear blossom tree looks like a skeleton of itself, all flowers gone, only a blackened trunk and empty branches left.

The hut had been damaged during Jibei's invasion of Nanhui, looters setting fire to it during the chaos of the invasion.

Ziang takes in the vision with empty eyes, finally catching sight of the figure sitting on the ground, leaning against the blackened pear blossom tree.

Xiao Shu Qian looks up at him. He looks resigned. 

"You won't find what you're looking for. There's nothing left to find. My little brother's soul is destroyed," Xiao Shu Qian smiles madly, red ghostly tears running down his transparent face.

They look at each other, then Ziang goes to stand beside him, unwilling to accept those words.

Shuhe was on his way. He was just angry and needed space. This time, Ziang wouldn't deny it to him. He wouldn't force anything even if he had to wait a thousand years. Shuhe would return whenever he felt like it.

Ziang would wait.

Shu Qian sniffles, still sitting slumped against the tree. 

"Why didn't you look after him? You killed me to protect him, didn't you? You were supposed to be better than me," the ghost moans, clutching his hair for a second.

But there's no anger. The ghost sounds like a tired old man, aged an eternity in just these short years.

Five years didn't seem like a lot, but Xiao Shu Qian had spent them watching his little brother and the love of his life trying to keep afloat a dying kingdom as that doctor tried to keep them afloat. And for a while, they all succeeded.

But the constant drought and famine, the decades old corruption, the rot of generations was impossible to contain even as his little brother got his hands dirty, even as he sold his soul. And then, Shuhe's unwillingness to start a war against their rival nation, against Ziang at his weakest, cost them heavily. Jibei regained its strength and crushed Nanhui to the ground, his little brother falling, betrayed at the hands of a mad man who claimed to love him.

Shu Qian had watched in horror as Ziang, who had once protected Shuhe from him, slowly became as vicious and violent as himself. Power gone to his head like many emperors before him, a blade stabbing his gentle brother until it tore him into pieces. 

And he wanted to crawl back his way home, he wanted the blue string back, he wanted Shuhe and Huo Ying and nothing more. But he was sentenced to helplessly watch his imprisoned brother paint his face and cry for him, unable to cross the barrier of death that separated them, unable to let Shuhe hear that gege was right there...

Xiao Shu Qian was in a hell of his own creation and now, another man joins him to suffer the bed they made. 

"You were supposed to be better than me," he repeats again in a dead voice.

Ziang doesn't answer. 

They wait until the mountains and rivers go silent, until there's no earth left for the living and dead to occupy anymore.

But Shuhe never returns. 

Shen Song's cottage

The sun rises.

Birds chirp happily as the old man exits his cottage with a bowl full of grains for them, his beautiful white hair glinting in the sun.

The pear blossom tree comes alive with movement as hoards of birds come flying to the ground where Huo Ying sprinkles food for them. Some of them take a detour to the water bowl, wetting their thirsty beaks, gulping down water and then rushing off for breakfast.

"Shen Song, don't be so hasty!" He scolds a white tailed pigeon. She is fighting with her twin, both less interested in the grains than pecking each other like the little troublemakers they are.

"Shuhe! No!" Huo Ying sighs as the other twin pecks out a feather from her twin, Shen Song squawking in indignation, pecking Shuhe on the head and then running to hide behind Huo Ying's legs before any retribution can follow. 

"Oh dear," the old man groans, bending down to pick up the troublemakers and plopping each bird on one of his shoulders.

"Here, now eat quietly, my little fools," he mutters, holding out a stick with two bowls attached to it for each bird. He had long figured out a system to deal with them when they got into their little moods. It was best to separate them.

Not too far though.

They had separation anxiety.

Huo Ying had stood witness to one too many scenes of utter havoc created by them if the other bird dissapeared for more than two minutes. 

Once, he had woken up to Shuhe's screams, the bird summoning him with frantic chirps because she couldn't find her twin. He had followed after her and soon, they had found Shen Song in a precarious position, Shuhe immediately diving to try and pluck out the eyes of the cat that was attacking the other bird.

The cat had fled as the twins ganged up on her, flapping their wings furiously to bat her away in a direction far away from themselves and Huo Ying. 

He had watched the two fondly, their little protective caring act warming his body, remembering their human counterparts. 

"Fighting when together, anxious when apart. What do I do with you two," Huo Ying huffs fondly as he finally feels the two settle down, fight draining away, Shuhe and Shen Song's feet plat platting on his shoulders as they start furiously pecking at the food.

The blue string wrapped around the stick seems to vibrate and glow as the birds enjoy their breakfast, coming alive to almost sing with the birds as it is held gently by the old man.

With the passing of seasons and the rain, snow, sunlight; the last signs of the graves behind Shen Song's cottage have long been smoothed out. Huo Ying had become a permanent resident here many winters ago, spending the last years of Shen Song's life (and his own) with him.

The third grave remains empty, the last living member of their trio still left with a few more things to wrap up.

Shuhe and Shen Song sleep side by side peacefully, waiting for Huo Ying to join them in the ground.

The End