Chapter Text
His body fit perfectly inside the little cupboard. His mother swiftly removed the wooden shelves, placed him inside, and shut the doors. There was a click, and when he pushed the doors outward, they didn’t budge. He was locked inside with no way out unless someone opened the cupboard from the outside. Even at a young age, the irony wasn’t lost on him- shouldn't he decide who got to open the doors and who didn’t? Didn’t that make it safer for him?
Cries and pained screams were coming from the rooms outside the kitchen, and they crashed against his eardrums like furious waves in a storm. There was a lot of shuffling too, little thumps as if someone had tripped and fallen to the ground, and there were sounds of skin being slashed. He shivered as little tears ran down his face. He didn’t know what exactly was happening in his house, but the sounds were enough to tell him that it was nothing good.
Was it the witches? He wondered mildly as he fought the hiccups. Just last week his mother had sat him down at the table with a picture book and talked for hours about the evil witches that lurked in the shadows. It might be the witches, or it might be the monsters that lived under his bed. Anything really!!
Some time later, the sounds ceased and he kept his body as still as possible. The cupboard was dark and he couldn’t see anything. Now he couldn’t hear anything moving outside either.
He pushed the door again to no avail. He was trapped inside until someone found him… or didn’t.
Luo Binghe closed the door behind him and immediately fell to the ground. His robes were heavy and covered with sweat, blood, and bits of flesh. His sword was in a similar state, its hilt slippery with red and guts falling off the blade.
It was a rather unconventional way to kill the witch hunters.
When in battle, witches normally tended to use their magic and surroundings while minimizing physical engagement, and not every witch chose to practice their magic along with a weapon. They were better at distance fighting while the witch hunters excelled in short-range combat. It usually worked in their favor, but when a witch was caught off guard, a mob of witch hunters was bad news.
When he had finally nailed down those particular witch hunters, he had used his magic to support himself in battle, but he had primarily chosen to cut down their bodies with his sword. Minimal magic had been involved, and even if he had decided not to toy with them using his tricks, Luo Binghe had been training with his sword for decades.
For years he had sought out the best swordsmen to learn from, studying for months under their tutelage to perfect his form before he was off looking for the next master in line.
He had never yearned to stay longer, in fact, some of his teachers had practically begged him to stay for a few more months, but his heart was set upon revenge, and he refused to be called anyone else’s disciple. He had only ever been the disciple of one man and one man only, and he wasn’t looking to betray the memory of his deceased master.
“Shizun,” he whispered into the dark room, “I’ve finally done it.”
Ten years ago, his beloved master and soulmate, Shen Qingqiu, had been slaughtered by a group of witch hunters inside their humble home. After the shock of grief wore off, Luo Binghe had sworn to avenge the death of his beloved.
It had taken him ten years to do so, and yet he vividly recalled the events of that fateful day like they happened yesterday. That night he had been hiding in a secret cellar under the floor, a thick rug over the door to hide the secret compartment. He had not seen the witch hunters that attacked his defenseless master, but the sound of their screams, their cheers of victory, and their disdainful voices had embedded themselves in his memory, carefully repeating over and over in his mind for the day of his revenge. Today had been that day.
The Shen clan, a family of witch hunters that had survived their battles against the witches for decades and coincidentally shared a surname with Binghe’s previous master, had been a large clan with plenty of members to send off to battle. The clan was also quite famous, but their lair was hard to find, and thus, their sins had gone unpunished for far too long.
He had been trying to track them down after learning their identity four years ago, but finally, he was able to figure out why their residence was so hard to find. Ironically, they paid a trusted witch to put up invisibility wards around what was effectively a small town in the middle of the Sanja forest. The wards were strong and layered with protection spells, meaning that witches with regular magic would have to look very closely if they wanted to find them.
For Luo Binghe it posed no challenge, for when he finally discovered their trick, it took only a flick of his wrist to take down the wards. As expected, an alarm had gone off announcing an intruder, and the well-populated clan had automatically reached for their weapons.
He was a one-man army against twenty-five well-trained hunters, but he had stealth and mobility on his side. He had slipped through each residence smoothly, cutting down anyone that he came across. Old, young, smart, dumb, he didn’t care for any of these people that took upon themselves the pledge to burn his kind.
His sweeping movements had ended at the main house, where the head of the family stood. The hunter, although old and feeble, had fought well for a mere human. Binghe had not expected the talismans of protection, which were witch items, so he had been forced to use some of his magic. No more than ten minutes later, the residence was silent, and not even the sound of birds could be heard.
Amidst the adrenaline and bloodshed, he had to admit that he had perhaps gone a little out of control. This clan had taken everything from him, and thus he had repaid the favor in kind, but his mind was hazy, and some might have called the amount of blood and human remains painting the floors overkill.
He had felt frustrated as he stood there. He had taken his revenge, but somehow it didn’t fill the hole carved out of his heart. All of these people were gone, but so was Shizun, and there was no way to get him back– At least not the version he had known.
Now inside his room in a nearby town, he realized that he hadn’t heard the voice of the man that had stabbed his Shizun that night. He might have killed him, he thought– there had been too many sounds for him to make out most specific voices. Annoyance settled in his mind, maybe the man had died years ago in one of the mobs, killed by some other witch that wasn’t Luo Binghe.
It didn’t settle quite right with him, but there was nothing he could do if that was the case. Something occurred to him though– maybe there were more clan members who weren’t in the residence that day. He needed to clean up and go camp out so he could finish up the last remnants of the Shen Clan.
He willed his body to stand up, and as he did, he felt himself have to fight back a coil of dark qi that crawled through his body. Dark qi could be fatal if one couldn’t control it. It was essential for Binghe to keep his mind right or suffer the consequences.
He tugged the bright red string hanging from his finger. Shizun had reincarnated a few years ago, and while that knowledge made him happy, he still felt the loss of the man he had loved.
He went back to the village after a quick nap and a change of robes. The witch intended for no witch hunter of this clan to survive, and he was determined to make that happen.
To that end, he planned to camp outside the clan’s base until the remaining members came around. The task was as boring as he had expected, his chest was propped on the ground, and he was hiding in greenery to cover his tracks. One, two, and three hours passed, and not a single soul came by.
He was about to switch his position, his arms aching after hours of remaining in the same position when his hand jerked. It was a tug on his red string, small and weak, with a force that might have not been noticeable had the movement not been persistent.
His eyes followed the string from his pinky finger to where it disappeared: the deserted Shen clan ruins. Binghe had noticed the direction the string disappeared to before, but it never occurred to him that the final destination would be the cluster of households he had slaughtered. He had not expected to be this close to his soulmate, so close that they could tug each other’s strings.
Standing up, he followed the string, running past the entrance to the town and through corpses and damaged houses, until he arrived at the main house. Inside lay the bodies of seven clan members, and as expected, none of them made a move.
The string passed by the dead bodies and led into an adjacent room. He strolled over and carefully opened the door, not knowing what to expect on the other side. At first glance, it was just an empty kitchen, but the red string stretched across the room before finally disappearing into a small cupboard door. Luo Binghe approached the cupboard, his own hands shaking as he grasped the handle and opened it.
Inside, a small figure hunched over himself.
"Go away," whispered the small child. Luo Binghe felt his lungs deflate as the tiny voice echoed in the small place, his soulmate's voice, Shizun's reincarnation, was here. And he was part of the witch hunter clan that Binghe had killed less than a day before.
He pushed the door wide open, the banging of wood against wood making his soulmate flinch, and carefully, he gathered the child in his arms. The child didn't struggle, but neither did he throw himself into his arms, probably too scared of the stranger that was picking him up.
Luo Binghe settled the kid into a comfortable position in his arms, his small body trembling like a little leaf in the wind, eyes shut as he hid his head against Binghe’s chest. Binghe wanted to speak, to say that everything was going to be okay and that he was now safe, but his lips were sealed shut, and Binghe could only draw small circles with his hands against the small back.
He turned back to the door just to remember the gruesome scene waiting outside. In a second, his robe was off, and he one-handedly maneuvered the cloth so that it laid over the child. It engulfed him and wrapped him in a cocoon that Binghe hoped he felt safe in.
The witch walked through the forest in a daze, soulmate still cradled in his arms, muscle memory guiding his legs. His cloth-covered soulmate had stopped trembling a while ago, his tiny sobs mixing with the crunching of twigs and leaves under Binghe’s boots.
Somehow, they made it to Binghe's room. Down the road and far from the Shen residence.
Shizun's name in this life was Shen Yuan, and he was four. That was the only information Binghe had been able to gather since they arrived at his secluded cabin.
"You need to drink or you'll get sick," Binghe said as he pushed a glass of water into Shen Yuan's small hands. After the four year old had whispered his name and age on their ride, he had gone mute and refused any food or water.
Binghe understood Shen Yuan was probably in shock and terrified after Luo Binghe more or less kidnapped him from his home. He wanted to give the kid time and space he needed, but Binghe was getting incredibly worried.
As expected, Shen Yuan pushed the glass away whilst shaking his head. With a sigh, Luo Binghe set the glass on the nightstand.
"I know you’re scared," he spoke softly as he lowered himself to Shen Yuan’s level. The kid’s head was cast down, finding his lap more engaging than the adult in front of him. “ I promise that I am not here to do any harm to you.”
There was no response from the child, and Luo Binghe was forced to go about his day in a semi-normal manner. He tended to his house, cleaning the layer of dust that had gathered in the past three weeks he had been absent and picking up random items from the floor. As he cleaned, he dared not to go out of the cabin and leave Shen Yuan alone, afraid that the small child would disappear at the first chance he got.
He had left their cabin not long after Shizun died. Despite his attempts at living there and continuing without Shen Qingqiu, the place had become darker and more claustrophobic the more time he spent there. The fond memories of days filled with laughter and comfort were fading, a layer of resentment settling over them like dust on a precious clock.
It was too much and Binghe didn’t want to let the feelings of loneliness and abandonment turn his precious feelings to hate. One night, he packed a small bag of his belongings, sword in hand, and left the cabin for the foreseeable future.
That’s when his traveling started. Hopping from one master to the next whenever he felt he was getting too attached, Luo Binghe only came back to the mountain to clean Shen Qingqiu’s grave and make sure that his memory had not faded.
Five years after his departure, Luo Binghe had come back to a burnt cabin and desolate forest. The bamboo had burned to the ground just as Shizun’s grave had.
That was the last time he had gone back to their mountain, and not long after that, he had started his studies in demonic magic. Luo Binghe had known that he was breaking his promise to Shizun to never even think about switching to such an evil source of magic, but Shizun wasn’t there to know, his reincarnation hadn't been born yet, and his murderers had neither been caught nor punished. He was running low on leads, and his progress in magic would hit a wall every time he switched masters, the constant change in lessons and strategies hurting his progress at times.
Finding someone to teach him the dark path proved difficult, and the practice was even tougher to wield and master. Even Luo Binghe, who had always been praised for his quick mind and natural skills in witchcraft, was not a master wielder of demonic energy. He was still in the early stages, having to take a lot of precautions to prevent the resentful energy from getting to him, as well as having to take long periods to release the energy if he wasn't going to utilize it.
At least he hadn’t gone to the Witch Covenant to seek a master. Just thinking about them brought a frown to his face. As Shizun had predicted, the Covenant had become larger and larger with time, the settlement coming into prominent fame amongst witches and non-witches alike. Their guard of demonic witches was in the hundreds now, and they were still looking for more people to add to their numbers.
In the streets, there were quiet whispers about witches going insane and killing their comrades and loved ones and non-witches being massacred by the demonic witches, but none of those incidents had ever been confirmed. Not that he was expecting the Covenant to be honest with their affairs to outsiders. Bad press equals less growth.
By the time he finished his methodical cleaning, the sun was going down, and he figured it was time to start preparing dinner. His current home was nothing more than a big room that he had designated spaces to act as his living room, study, bedroom, and kitchen. Nothing was separating these sections, and he always had a clear view of every part of his cabin, except for the bathroom. Shen Yuan had remained sitting where he had been left on the bed, the shuffling of his clothes indicating that the child was still breathing and had not been made into a perpetual statue.
Luo Binghe had isolated himself inside his little home two years ago after years of being on the road. He had no friends and no family, no one to keep him company in the same way that Shizun had. Not that there would ever be someone like Shizun. His people skills were sharp and natural after all his travels, but talking to traumatized children was something that he did not specialize in. How had Shizun managed with him that first night?
Taking a small bowl, he filled it with congee, the one that Shizun had loved. He was aware that Shen Yuan was not Shen Qingqiu, not entirely, but he hoped that his taste in food had remained the same even after death.
He held the small bowl in his hand as he crouched down in front of Shen Yuan. “Hungry?” He expected no response, but to his utmost surprise, Shen Yuan surprised him by giving a weak nod. It seemed like he was finally coming to himself, or the hunger was starting to make him uncomfortable.
Shen Yuan made no move to take the bowl from his hand, so Binghe settled for feeding the congee to him with the spoon. As he did, his eyes trailed over Shen Yuan’s face. He hadn’t gotten time to inspect the small, chubby face before, but now he could see it closely.
He was small, cheeks full of baby fat, his lips thin and pink, long lashes framed his black eyes – Shizun had green eyes last time – and his straight hair framed his face in miniature bangs. Shen Yuan was adorable, and he looked so tired and so innocent that Binghe had to hold himself back from squeezing the child in a tight hug and offering him the world.
When Shen Yuan was finished with his dinner, Luo Binghe made no move to leave. He was eating and that alone was a miracle, step one out of who knew how many.
“I like it,” Shen Yuan murmured, so soft that Binghe might have missed it if he wasn’t so concentrated on him. “But too much cinnamon.”
Luo Binghe flinched. He hadn’t prepared this dish since Shizun’s grave burned down, and he might have been a little out of practice, or maybe Shen Yuan had a different taste in congee. “I’ll make sure that next time it has less cinnamon. What else do you like to eat?”
The child seemed to hesitate, squirming where he was sitting. “I like baozi. And red cakes. And candy.”
Luo Binghe chuckled. “I don’t have candy, but tomorrow we can go down to town and get some.”
Shen Yuan nodded and remained quiet. Binghe waited for him to speak, and he was about to give up when he heard a trembling voice say, “I want my mama and baba.” Tears gathered in the corner of Shen Yuan’s eyes, and Binghe watched helplessly as they spilled.
“I am sorry, your mama and baba won’t be able to take care of you anymore.”
“Someone came into our home and hurt them. I know.” Yes, someone had hurt Shen Yuan’s parents. Luo Binghe had done it. Fate was laughing at him, making Shen Yuan’s parents the people that murdered him in his last life.
“Yes, someone did.” A pang of guilt almost made him choke. “But you are with me now and I will take care of you.”
Shen Yuan nodded, not quite happy and contemptuous. “Who are you?”
Your parents’ killer and your past life’s disciple. The words sat at the tip of his tongue before he swallowed them down. There was no way he could say all of that without confusing Shen Yuan and traumatizing him at the same time.
“Do you see this?” He pointed at Shen Yuan’s red string, the string that connected him to Luo Binghe. He hadn’t even thought about Shen Yuan being confused about this entanglement of magic that his parents did not know about and wouldn’t be able to see, or how Shen Yuan would feel when he noticed they were tied.
“Yes,” responded Shen Yuan, showing no particular emotion. “It’s always there. I don’t like it. It tangles with my hair and with my toys and mama and baba say I lie when I trip.” Luo Binghe knew that that wasn’t possible, the red string was not corporal unless they wanted it to be.
“Well, I too have a string,” he showed Shen Yuan with his hand in the air. “And we are bound. Do you know what that means?” Shen Yuan, who seemed to not have noticed their tied string earlier, grasped Binghe’s hand in his own, his wide eyes glued to the string as if he couldn’t believe it. He was far more interested in Binghe’s string than his own.
“No…”
Taking Shen Yuan’s hand in his, Luo Binghe internally did a small celebratory dance when Shen Yuan didn’t pull away. “It means that we are meant to be together,” Luo Binghe tried to explain. Binghe had been older when he had met Shen Qingqiu and had been able to process things better than this four-year-old would. “It means that we are always connected and that I will take care of you no matter what. Do you understand?”
Shen Yuan shook his head. “No…But you will take care of me?”
Luo Binghe nodded. “Yes, I will take care of you now that your mama and baba can’t. You will never be alone.”
It was as if a dam broke inside Shen Yuan, for the small child’s tears started to fall like rain drops in a storm. Instantly, Luo Binghe engulfed the child in a tight hug. The contact only made him cry harder. “Please don’t cry.” He had no idea how to make it stop.
“A-Yuan doesn’t want to be alone,” Shen Yuan waits between tears. “A-Yuan doesn’t want to be alone in the dark room again.”
The declaration pierced a hole in Binghe’s already broken heart. He squeezed the child tighter against him, and against his better judgment, kissed the crown of Shen Yuan’s head. “A-Yuan will never be alone again. I promise.”
Shen Yuan had been living with Luo-gege for three weeks now.
The day after his arrival, Luo-gege had taken him to town to get his measurements at the tailor’s. Shen Yuan didn't like the stranger’s proximity, but he let the man do his job and felt a little better when Luo-gege let him choose the colors of his clothes. He chose almost every color available. Green, purple, white, red, yellow, blue, and all of them in soft materials.
Then, Luo-gege kept his word and took him to the candy shop where Shen Yuan proceeded to raid the place. He had come back to Luo-gege’s home with two bags of candy, and he had dived into the pile freely for the better part of the afternoon until Luo-gege had to take the candy off his hands. Life went on in more or else the same way for the next few days because there were so many things that needed to be purchased for him.
A week later, he was stuffing his mouth with sweets on the bed Luo-gege had bought for him. It was shoved in a corner of the room so he wouldn’t fall when he slept and was so wide and soft that he could sleep in it all day.
His gaze shifted to Lu0-gege who was working at his desk, too engrossed in whatever he was doing to notice his staring, and Shen Yuan could look at his profile as much as he pleased.
A-Yuan didn’t know what to think about Luo-gege.
He had bought A-Yuan everything he wanted– toys, candy, a box of paints he had pointed at– and was always there when A-Yuan woke from a nightmare or needed something. He was attentive in a way his mama had been, but he was still intimidated by the dark clothes and how big and tall the man was.
The adult had never once tried to harm him in any way. Even the few times he had 'scolded' A-Yuan, his words had been soft and kind compared to his baba's stern reprimands.
His mama had ingrained in him to be wary of two things: the witches that would turn him into a toad, and strangers. Luo-gege was a man that he had never met before the day his family disappeared, he was at least not one of the witches from mama’s scariest bedtime stories. Sometimes he felt as if he was disappointing his mama by trusting him in the way he had so far.
His family. A-Yuan had gathered a lot of feelings, most of them despair and sadness when he remembered that he would never be able to see his mama ever again. He could still remember gege telling him about it last week.
"Why can't I see mama again?" he had asked.
Luo-gege had almost dropped the teacup in his hand. Sometimes A-Yuan was able to scare him and make him jump. It was funny, and he would crack a laugh every time, but this time, he did not.
"Because," Gege drew out the silence for three long seconds before finally placing the teacup down on the table and kneeling on the ground beside A-Yuan. Gege always did this when they talked about important stuff, crouching down so he could be closer to eye level with A-Yuan. It made him feel important and seen. He liked it. "Someone did something to your parents, and they aren’t here anymore."
A-Yuan had thought as much. “What did they do? Why?” Eager eyes looked at Luo-gege.
“Because your parents did something to hurt other people,” Luo-gege explained. A-Yuan frowned. “So one of those people decided to repay them in the same way.”
With each passing day, he was learning more and more about his gege, and to his surprise, he was getting more and more comfortable with him. A-Yuan liked the attention, and he liked the feeling of being safe regardless of the lingering strangeness between the two.
Getting off his bed, he quietly made his way to his gege. "Gege," A-Yuan said when he was close enough to touch him. As expected, gege jumped.
"Yes?" Gege had dark circles under his eyes, his work had kept him up last night.
Realizing he had no idea what gege did for a living, his next question diverted from what he was originally going to ask. "What does gege do? Is he a hunter like baba?"
Gege shook his head, putting down his quill. "No, Luo-gege works helping people. He helps townspeople, and they pay him for his help."
"If Luo-gege helps them, why does he charge money? Mama said favors should be free."
"Because they want to pay me."
"What if you help someone that doesn't want to pay you?"
"They all pay me."
"Why?"
"Because I ask them to," responded gege.
"That's wrong."
"I need the money, your candy doesn't come out of thin air."
A-Yuan frown. "Okay." Remembering his reason for approaching, a surge of nervousness appeared out of nowhere. He hesitated to speak again. Luo-gege's encouraging look helped. "Luo-gege said Mama and Baba won't come back to see A-Yuan…"
"A-Yuan…" Luo-gege said his name softly.
Confusion invaded A-Yuan's small mind as well as frustration. He did know what he wanted, but he had no words to ask. The frustration was overwhelming, and he ended up with tears running down his cheeks rather than words out of his mind.
He waited for Luo-gege to get frustrated and mad at him like baba and grandpa used to.
"A-Yuan." Arms wrapped around his tiny body, and he was pulled against Gege's chest. "I know, I know." He kept repeating the same words over and over again as Shen Yuan cried his heart out.
Luo Binghe will admit that despite his best effort to provide A-Yuan with all the things he could possibly need, he neglected a very important part of his well-being: grief.
He was well acquainted with it. First his mother, then Shizun- it was one of the few things that he shared with the four-year-old, the experience of losing his family and being taken to a strange new place.
Time had eased his grief in his ten years of wandering the land so that now, only in his most vulnerable state could those feelings emerge. For some reason, he had taken A-Yuan's calm behavior and quiet demeanor as a signal that, besides that first outburst on the first day, he had gotten over the death of his entire family.
He was a fool, he knew, but in his defense, he had never had a child in his care, and his own experience of being 'practically kidnapped by some stranger that shared a red string with you and claimed to be your soulmate' had involved an older Binghe.
Four was too small and too unknown for Luo Binghe. He had almost bought milk for babies back in town when he realized he had no idea what four-year-olds ate, but thanks to A-Yuan who helpfully informed him he was lactose intolerant, he had been able to mitigate that particular crisis.
He would take the blow of being ignorant of the child’s distress and grief and learn from it. Note to self: children were capable of having the same feelings as adults.
Note to self: because they were small, they were incapable of communicating their strong feelings and what they needed to help them cope with those feelings.
Note to self: past two notes might only apply to A-Yuan. His sample size was too small.
To make up for this situation, he made a trip down to town again. Ever since he had gotten A-Yuan, his trips downtown were becoming more and more frequent, and thanks to A-Yuan’s natural cuteness and good manners, the child had charmed a handful of merchants that could recognize Binghe on sight. “Where’s young master A-Yuan?”
Against the advice of all the parenting books he had been reading over the past few weeks, he had left the child alone at home. He had a good level of trust in the young child, or at least enough that he could leave the kid alone for an hour or so. (As a measure of precaution, he had doubled the protective spells, made sure any fire was extinguished, and cast a spell that would prevent the child from wandering too far from the cabin. Food, water, and other amenities were also put at his tiny disposal).
“Little A-Yuan has chosen to stay at home today. Even kids have an energy limit,” he carefully responded. It earned him a smile from the merchant. He chatted with her for a little longer before leaving her stall with a small bag of sweets and favors.
He packed the bag inside his pouch as he made his way deeper into the market to the funeral house.
During Shizun’s death and funeral, Luo Binghe had foregone most of the traditional aspects of his burial. His grief and weak mind had rendered him useless to even do the smallest of things to honor his beloved master. Years later, he felt shame in his heart at his own incompetence. He had made – and was making – so many mistakes in this lifetime, so many that Shizun would probably be disappointed in him if he could see.
There was not much he could do to amend his past transgressions- the only thing left to do was to dissuade any further mistakes and try to mend the things that could be addressed.
First, although he had broken Shizun’s promise of not diving into the demonic arts, now that his revenge was achieved, Luo Binghe could start getting rid of the demonic qi within his body. It would take years of effort, pain, and meditating, but now he had no reason to dwell on its power.
Second, he would raise A-Yuan to adulthood and beyond. His soulmate was back with a new fate and vessel, so his failure to protect Shizun could at least be amended to an extent.
Third, he had no idea what to do next.
Handing the money to the merchant, Luo Binghe felt a new wave of shame come over him. He had yearned all of his life for power and revenge, his sole purpose had always been tied to Shizun and all the things he could not prevent from happening, even though it had been his own carelessness that was the cause of such a tragedy.
Now that his oath, the only thing he was able to cling to for the past two decades was fulfilled, he was now in limbo. He had things to do, A-Yuan to protect, but beyond all of the things tied to his soulmate, there was little to nothing for Binghe to go on for. No friends and no family. No purpose and nothing left in his heart to yearn for.
He had gotten revenge and blood on his hands in exchange for A-Yuan, a child he barely knew how to take care of and who he had known little to nothing about.
A kid to raise and protect. If A-Yuan ended with the same fate as his predecessor, it would only solidify the reality of who Luo Binghe was: a failure.
He found the kid sitting in front of the low table with paper and ink on hand. When he heard the door close behind Binghe, small dark eyes shifted to him. There was a big blob of ink on the scroll A-Yuan was painting on, which had soaked through the paper mercilessly before settling in a pool of ink on top of the table. A-Yuan himself was covered in black ink, from his hands to his cheeks. His robes were a lost cause, and of course, his artistic inspiration had struck on the day he wore his beautiful white robes.
Despite the mess and ruined clothes, Binghe did not feel particularly upset.
“Luo-gege left without telling me,” A-Yuan accused him with tiny arms crossed, ink staining his clothes even further.
“I had things to do downtown.” Taking the bag of sweets from his pouch, Luo Binghe set the offer on top of the table. “She sent her greetings and this for you.”
A-Yuan scoffed and took the offering bag. “I thought Luo-gege had left me.”
There's an underlying twig of hurt to his words. Luo Binghe smiles. "I didn't want to wake A-Yuan, he looked exhausted." It was no lie, the child had been having recurring nightmares ever since day one, disrupting his sleep greatly. Not even the soft glow of a candle could ward them off.
"A-Yuan was not tired," he responded, lips turning downward with a faint blush on his cheeks.
"And I believe him." Walking to the washroom, Luo Binghe took a basin of water and a towel. When he came back, A-Yuan had managed to stain his clothes even further. If given half an hour, his white robes would change to completely black.
He strode over and fell to his knees in front of A-Yuan, making do with his supplies and scrubbing the stubborn ink from his skin. A-Yuan let Binghe clean him up, his eyes settling on the table as his tiny conscience finally kicked in.
"I’m sorry," he apologized, his pinky finger dipping into the pooling ink on the table.
"It's fine." The ink was hard to get rid of. Binghe would have to draw a warm bath and soak the child for an hour if he wanted his bedding to be stain-free.
Getting as much of the ink off as he could, Luo Binghe set the cloth on the ink puddle, letting the fiber absorb the dark liquid.
"I have a surprise for A-Yuan." Guilt melted away from A-Yuan’s face as he eagerly looked up at him. He might have been wary at first, but Binghe had proven to be good enough that the child let himself be spoiled rotten. "We're going out on a trip."
A change of robes later, they were ready and stepping out into the wild. This particular mountain had been chosen for a reason. It was so similar to Qing Jing that Binghe could almost pretend he was back home. It was quiet, and his cabin was secluded. No neighbors to be noisy or have to talk to. For such a need to run away from Qing Jing, he had surely settled for its exact replica.
A-Yuan swung their intertwined hands together. Left and right hands united, their red string was reduced to mere centimeters. Binghe eyed the red string as deja vu settled in. Oh, to have been young and able to walk alongside Shizun.
Now that he was trying to atone for his mistakes and not deviate from his responsibilities as a guardian, Binghe would take special note of the secluded place he was keeping the child.
As a kid, Luo Binghe had been deprived of friends and companionship. The rumors surrounding his origin had pushed everyone away before he decided if he wanted anyone near him. The lack of friends, although painful and hollow in his childhood, had been filled by a loving mother, and then by a loving master.
He had turned out alright with no friends, but that did not mean that A-Yuan would thrive in the same environment of isolation and wariness. Shen Qingqiu had. But that was Shen Qingqiu, and this was a much younger version of him. He couldn't go around treating A-Yuan the same way he did a grown man.
With an internal sigh, Luo Binghe decided that he would have to find a solution that did not put them in danger.
Moving to town was a big no. The Witch Covenant was a looming threat to all the non-witches who disdained its existence. The Covenant had done its intended duty, making all the non-witches fear them even more, and the witch mobs had risen in numbers in the last five years with absolutely no regard for distinguishing between Covenant and non-Covenant members.
Now more than ever, non-witches were a threat to his life. And more importantly, to A-Yuan's life. He was not yet a witch, nor did he know of Binghe's life as one, but he would be dragged in by association. Burnt, executed, or mutilated, witch mobs wouldn't show mercy to a child.
They stopped by Binghe's favorite tree. Tall, thick, and older than they might ever be, nature's sculpture twisted and turned elegantly, its branches adorned with healthy green leaves. It was a pine tree sitting at the edge of a cliff. Luo Binghe had discovered the tree and the scenery not long after building his humble cabin.
The wind tended to brush the area atop the cliff, and it was a perfect place to sit on large tree roots on a warm day as the breeze cooled heated skin.
As they approached, Binghe's hold on A-Yuan tightened, fully aware of the danger that the cliff and A-Yuan's curious little mind could bring. The last thing he needed to do was to have a child plummeting over the dangerous edge.
"No going near the cliff," Binghe said. A-Yuan, who was proud but obedient, nodded.
They sat on the bare ground, not minding the dirt getting on their robes. Now that he was there, a tinge of nervousness hit him. He had a rough plan with a rough outline because he didn't want to overcomplicate things for the young child, but now that he was about to do it, he wished he had thought things through a little more.
Too late, it was now or dragging things on until A-Yuan got tired of being outside. He took his pouch from within his dark robes and fished inside for what he was looking for.
“A-Yuan,” he called to the child, his hand still inside the pouch. “Do you remember what you wanted to ask me about your mama and baba?”
Sitting beside him, A-Yuan tensed. He gave Luo Binghe a weak nod, eyes suddenly very interested in the foliage a few feet away from them.
“I thought about your questions, and what you wanted.” Reaching into the pouch, Luo Binghe placed three stacks of joss paper on the ground. A-Yuan’s face was still turned to the side, and Binghe had to lightly tug his blue sleeve to get his attention.
He did not make any sort of expression when he saw the stacks. He looked confused and lost, and Binghe immediately jumped in before things got out of hand. “Your mother and father cannot return for you,” he said cautiously. “You won’t be able to see them again. It’s tragic and sad, and unfortunately that’s a truth you are going to have to live with for the rest of your life.” A quick glance at the tiny face confirmed that he was doing a terrible job at being a reassuring guardian. A-Yuan’s eyes were filled with tears.
Luo Binghe quickly took a stack of the joss paper. “This is joss paper,” he continued. “When people have to go away because something has happened to them, their family and friends burn joss paper during the burial ceremonies. It is so that they have a good life and good fortune wherever they go next.”
The shift in the subject seemed to be working for the child. While he was still holding back unshed tears behind his eyelashes, his eyes were now directed at Binghe's face with a degree of interest.
“Do you want your mom and dad to have a lot of fortune, even when they are not here with you?” A nod, Luo Binghe was starting to think that A-Yuan was either too scared or too sad to verbally speak. “Okay, then we shall burn these so that your mom and dad can have everything they need.”
Subtly, he conjured a fire spell to light up the leaves and twigs he had gathered. He had made sure that the fire was a good three meters away from where A-Yuan remained seated. When the fire was ready, Luo Binghe ordered A-Yuan to step a little closer and to bring the joss paper with him.
Binghe came up next to him. “Good boy.” Binghe took a stack from A-Yuan’s hand. “Okay, you can toss one stack at a time. Just like this,” he said, mimicking the action. “One for your mom and one for your dad. Go ahead.”
Warily, A-Yuan approached the fire with Luo Binghe right at his heels in case anything dangerous were to happen. He saw A-Yuan grab one of the stacks and toss it to the fire. “This is for mama,” the tiny voice said.
The stacks of joss paper, although not the biggest on the market for a child’s purposes, set the fire ablaze and released gray smoke into the air. They watched the first stack burn until the smoke subsided, both child and adult quiet in what seemed to be a moment of reflection and respect for the dead woman.
When he was ready, A-Yuan tossed the second stack. “And this one is for baba.” Luo Binghe had expected the kid to say more in the way kids usually rambled on, but A-Yuan did not.
As the paper burned, Luo Binghe took this time to reflect on what he was doing. A-Yuan’s parents, while not necessarily the perpetrators of Shizun’s murder, had been terrible and cruel, a part of a murderous clan that spared neither women nor children. They were, in his eyes, shitty at best.
He did not feel guilty for slaughtering them, if anything he felt proud for aiding in the eradication of such mobs, but he felt like a monster as he quietly watched A-Yuan gaze at the fire. He had prevented the deaths of hundreds of witches and taken revenge for a senseless murder, yet he had shaken the world of a little boy who hadn’t known anything beyond the limits of his home and the family that surrounded him.
He frowned at himself and A-Yuan’s parents. Was it too hard to be a decent person and stay away from such crimes? Why did fate have to be so cruel?
It would be hard to explain in a few years when A-Yuan grew up and started to think more about the strange circumstances around Binghe...
For one, he would probably wonder how Luo Binghe had managed to discover his home if he had not been part of the clan. He could try to lie and come up with an excuse. Maybe he was a neighbor or a new member of the clan who A-Yuan hadn’t met yet.
Moreover, A-Yuan would never be able to give his parents a funeral. This was the closest thing he could offer the child. His parents’ corpses had been left to rot and be devoured by scavengers miles away, a detail that he did not feel bad for letting happen, but could recognize had the potential to bite him in the ass later.
The more he thought about the future, the more complicated everything became. He was starting to think too hard about what A-Yuan would say or do if the truth were to be discovered. Would he hate Binghe if he discovered that he killed his parents? Would he understand once Luo Binge explained to him why he had done so?
It was too much and too complicated.
“Luo-gege?” The fire had quelled, and A-Yuan was looking at him. “Do you think that will be enough, or will they need more to get by?”
Shaking himself from his thoughts, Luo Binghe responded, “That should be more than plenty. A-Yuan did great.” Maybe he should have accompanied the joss paper with something else to make this something more meaningful for the tiny soul.
A-Yuan did not seem convinced. He did not argue. “Who’s that one for?” A tiny finger pointed at the stack of joss paper that Binghe had kept for himself.
He almost blurted out ‘you.’
“A friend.”
“Did Luo-gege lose a friend like I lost mom and dad?”
“Yes, a long time ago.”
“Burn it,” A-Yuan demanded more than he suggested.
Luo Binghe did as told. He dumped the stack onto the fire and watched the flames rise again. Beside him, A-Yuan calmly did the same, and they shared this silence and this funeral as they did at their home.
It did dawn on him, the bizarreness of the situation, wherein he was having an improvised funeral partially for a person who was, more or less, standing right beside him.
“I am sorry I can’t make your parents come back.” He crouched down and took A-Yuan’s small hands. “I can only be here, and while I know that it is not enough, I will try to give you the world.”
He was saying this more to himself than A-Yuan, an indirect message to the man who had died years ago.
Later, when the sun had gone down, Luo Binghe found himself lying on the bed, his eyes counting the cracks on the ceiling. The soft glow of the candle on his bedside faintly illuminated the atmosphere with a soft yellow. As the flame was blown around by the faint breeze, Luo Binghe found his eyes chasing the new form of distraction. Summer was starting, but the room felt cold and empty.
“Luo-gege,” the soft voice pierced the silence, barely a whisper.
Luo Binghe turned on his side, ready to face A-Yuan's designated corner. Instead, he was met with A-Yuan's small figure standing beside his bed. He almost flinched away.
"What's wrong?" Abandoning his place on the bed, he sat at the edge waiting for an answer.
It didn’t come right away. A-Yuan had his head turned to the side, away from the candle, and his face was covered in shadows. He fidgeted with thin fingers, weight shifting left and right. The waiting began to unnerve Luo Binghe slightly.
"Can… A-Yuan sleep here?" Even softer than before, A-Yuan doesn't look at him.
Luo Binghe gasped, and A-Yuan flinched. Before the kid could do anything like run away because he thought Luo Binghe would deny him, he took A-Yuan in his arms and placed him on his bed. He took his time tucking the child in, his hands soothing the bedding over and over again. He had sworn to give him the best. Fingertips tugged a stray string of hair behind a tiny ear. A-Yuan was looking at him with bright eyes.
"Is this okay?"
A-Yuan did not answer, but he nodded and squirmed around as if trying to find a comfortable position. Luo Binghe got into bed, a four-inch space between them.
"Good night, A-Yuan."
"G'night.”
And then, life went on.
Luo Binghe had to shift the arm that was holding A-Yuan. The child, usually calm and well behaved, was shifting left and right as if he had caught a bad case of fleas, almost sending them both tumbling down.
"I’m sorry, I don't know what has gotten into him," he apologized for the third time that day as he put A-Yuan down. Only five minutes ago he had been tugging at his sleeve demanding to be carried because his feet hurt. That had also been a lady ago.
"I’m tired from being held." Liar. He was raising a liar.
In front of him, the lady he was talking to spoke. "Are you new here?" They were not. A-Yuan had been living here for a little over two years, and Luo Binghe had been living here off and on before that.
"No, we've been here for quite a long time."
"Oh, but I have never seen you here before!"
He smiles at the lady. Luo Binghe is not interested in idle chit chat, but he had promised Shizun to be a gentleman for any fair maiden.
"I want to go to the candy stall."
"In a minute, A-Yuan."
" Now ." Luo Binghe sternly looked down at A-Yuan. He never had to deal with behavior that didn't directly sprout from his gentle parenting. It was so rare for A-Yuan to behave like this.
"Where do you live? Maybe we could arrange–"
He could understand. Today was supposed to be a free day for him and A-Yuan only. He had been a little busy with work this week and had been forced to leave A-Yuan alone for longer than he wanted. Today was their day, but it suddenly became full of young women interested in him out of nowhere.
Maybe he had been a little too harsh. He had made a promise and was doing a terrible job of fulfilling it.
"Ah, I am not sure if that will be possible." He declined as gently as he could. "A-Yuan, why don't we go see the candy stall…?" He turned his head down to address the child, only to find that there was no one beside him. "A-Yuan?" He asked a little louder, looking around frantically. The market was busy that day with dozens of robes flowing around and people screaming left and right. Merchants from other towns, townspeople, and travelers. Not a place for a child to wander around.
"Oh my, I think he–" Before she could finish her sentence, Luo Binghe was already rushing past pedestrians, eyes cast down in search of familiar yellow robes whilst frantically calling A-Yuan's name.
He did so for five minutes before, stupidly, remembering the damn red string . A wave of relief crashed over his heart. Entangled together and destined to meet, yet also to lose each other. He searched harder. It wouldn't do if fate decided to play the same cruel trick on him twice.
With the red string, it did not take long for Luo Binghe to find him. He found A-Yuan by the roots of a tree. A strong branch held up a swing near which a flock of children played by. A-Yuan was not with them, but was instead having a more private conversation with a lady and another child.
Taking the boy in his arms, Luo Binghe crushed his tiny body against his. It hit him then, the creeping fear of losing him, the echo of a past tragedy, and tears overcame him.
"A-Yuan! Oh, gods, I thought something had happened to you!—"
What followed was the most intense cuddling and kissing session that he had ever dared to impose on A-Yuan. He held him tight against his chest and rained small kisses on the crown of his head. A small pang of nostalgia hit him, had Shizun done the same thing to him? Or was it one of the things that never had the time to occur?
A tiny hand patted the top of his head.
"Silly, gege," A-Yuan said, his tiny finger tugging Binghe's end of the string.
"Who's this?" The child on the ground interjected.
"He’s baba."
"I thought he was your gege!"
"He is baba and gege and shizun!"
"He can’t be all of them at once!"
"Then he’s baba!" A-Yuan screamed, ever so stubborn.
As for Luo Binghe, a wave of affection crashed over his heart. Until this moment, he had always been Luo-gege, the older brother who took care of him.
"Right, Luo-gege?"
Maybe it would take some time for either of them to get used to it, assuming A-Yuan truly meant it. "Yes, I am A-Yuan's baba."
"He was so scared," the lady, probably the other kid's mother, interjected.
"I was not!"
"Thank you so much for taking care of him. He's a spoiled brat–"
"Aha!"
"Hey!"
"–How can I repay you?"
The kid's name was A-Hua, and he was a year older than A-Yuan. His mother was a pretty lady named Shang Long, and she had her own stall where she sold handkerchiefs and other garments she sewed. Upon seeing a new and unattended child by the set of swings, she had apparently approached with the best of intentions.
Luo Binghe wasn't so sure of that, even the sweetest of looks could be deceiving, but he kept his mouth shut and thanked her for the third time.
Beside him, A-Yuan was already getting into an argument with his new friend. Luo Binghe internally sighed, A-Yuan was going to grow up and start fights with anyone that told him he was wrong.
They ended up having to walk home in the dark, much to A-Yuan’s dismay. A-Yuan refused to walk in case a witch stole him from the air, so Luo-gege carried him in his arms. Because he couldn't do everything, A-Yuan was in charge of holding their lantern.
For the past two years, A-Yuan’s social circle was only composed of Luo Binghe and the merchants they saw every now and then. Binghe had known that the child needed friends and connections to others, but between work and the unshakable fear of being discovered and subsequently killed, he had made no move to encourage A-Yuan to make friends with the roaming kids around the market.
Was he wrong? Definitely, but could he be condemned for his lack of action? In this town, these people, although friendly and familiar to them, were a looming threat. A ticking bomb that needed to be monitored every day.
But now that he had seen his child argue with older kids and lose a drawing contest, interacting with children and not just a messed up adult… Luo Binghe found himself smiling.
As they climbed the mountain, A-Yuan passionately negotiated his grounding conditions. He was almost never grounded, but his mischievous adventure today couldn't go unpunished. In the end, he was able to keep his toys but had to give up candy for the next four days. It was a big sacrifice, but one that he deemed appropriate.
"So, am I now A-Yuan's baba?"
A-Yuan’s cheeks heated. "Only if gege wants."
A laugh, deep and loud. "I would love to.”
It was a harsh reality he was living with, one that he would have to swallow dutifully and try not to dwell on too much.
The truth of his life was that Shen Qingqiu was dead, and he wasn’t going to come back. For as much as he looked for remnants of his master within the child in his care, his master was long gone.
He wasn’t stupid, he had always known that A-Yuan and Shizun were two different people packaged in one soul. He had repeated the words inside his head over and over again as the years went by. The core was the same, but time and experiences diverted some of the characteristics Shen Qingqiu was known for. Maybe these characteristics would appear once A-Yuan grew up. Maybe maturity and time would get him closer to Shen Qingiu, but his master was gone, never to return.
He loved and desired his master as a man would a lover. Despite his death and wishes, Luo Binghe still yearned for the touch of a kind man and a kiss that would never happen. He had strong feelings for Shen Qingqiu that he could never feel for A-Yuan. The mere idea revolted him. A-Yuan was his child, his son who Binghe would someday begrudgingly see betrothed to someone else.
Luo Binghe would be left alone again.
It was a selfish and impossible wish, but if he could, and the gods above permitted it, he wished to have them both. Shen Qingqiu's hand locked in his while they strolled down the mountain. On his shoulder, little A-Yuan would rest. All bright smiles and petulant personality, his little arms clinging to Binghe's neck.
They would be a small and complete family, everything that he ever wished and hoped for.
Alas, it would never come.
And so, life went on.
Little A-Hua was becoming more or less his, Luo Binghe dared to think. Ever since that first meeting, the friendship between the two households had bloomed more smoothly than he had ever thought possible. A-Yuan had found himself a friend, and by complete coincidence, Binghe found someone to rely on in A-Hua's mother.
As single parents, they had more in common than they had expected. So they came up with a silent agreement where they tossed their children back and forth between households when the other was unavailable. It was good to go to work and know that someone was looking after A-Yuan, and that if he ever was unable to attend to his child's needs, there was a safety net to catch him.
"A-Hua, your mother is here!"
The children ran towards the door. She had come all the way from town to their humble abode. Despite their friendship and the inconvenience of the trip, Luo Binghe was not ready to give up his isolation. No offer of a quaint home closer to town could ever persuade him to abandon this deserted mountain.
As the children chatted with the woman, Luo Binghe stood back and watched the scene. If he squinted, he could almost believe he was watching two children greeting their mother while their father waited patiently inside their home.
He had thought about it. A lot. Even if his heart did not feel it, he could see the advantages that marriage would bring them. Stability, reassurance, someone to rely on when he didn't know what he was doing. And who better than A-Hua's mother, who was kind and liked A-Yuan?
He would have brought it up, almost did bring it up once, but despite the advantages, despite the convenience of it all…
"Did you know that Baba and I are soulmates?" A-Yuan smugly chirps in his tiny finger twirling in front of A-Hua's face. "The red string means we're soulmates!"
Panic raced through his mind like bile on his throat, and for a split second, he thought that he would have to kill the mother and child.
"You are silly," A-Hua responded, waving the child off. He was older, more mature than his child, or so the kid thought. "There's nothing there! I don't believe in lies.”
"It's true! Baba," A-Yuan turned to look at Binghe. "Tell him it's true!"
He couldn't. He had no idea what they thought about the witches besides the little comments that A-Hua would make every now and then, comments of fear and terror.
"A-Hua, what are you saying? I sure see A-Yuan's red string," A-Hua's mother pitched in. For a second, Luo Binghe thought they'd given themselves away. "See?" She held A-Yuan's right hand, the one that did not hold the string.
When they finally left, Luo Binghe felt dread overcome his anxiety. Damn him, he had forgotten to tell A-Yuan to never reveal the secret, to never speak of it. His child was still small and naive. He took the existence of the red string as a normal fact of life. That was his mistake and he would correct it.
He had, a long time ago, decided that their household would be one without magic or witches. Their power, although wonderful and beautiful, brought misery and danger to those who wielded it.
He would not commit the same mistakes from his past. Once the demonic magic dispersed from his body, he would give up his heritage and birthright. He would give up magic, for the safety of his son meant so much more than his power as a witch.
It was perfect. Almost too perfect.
Then, the plague came.
At first, the plague was only a rumor that came during the beginning of the fall and was carried by travelers from the south. It was a disease so deadly that it could render a grown man paralyzed in two days and dead by the third. With high fever, tremors, and terrible sores that would cover their body, the disease sounded more like a mythical illness from an old fairytale, so much so that no one gave heed to the looming threat.
Shamefully, Luo Binghe was no exception. Every now and then, a new threat of a similar sort would find its way to him, they almost never came. And although most of the threats were whispered from ear to ear by witches, non-witches were prone to make up rumors of a new disease invented by them.
So when the plague arrived in their small town, no one was prepared. At first, everyone waved it off as a contagious common cold, one that would disappear by itself as long as the individual stayed hydrated.
“It will go away soon,” said the kind lady as she offered A-Yuan another piece of candy. The kid was gulping them down like a man stranded in the desert, so unaware of anything happening around him.
Luo Binghe nodded and waved off as they made their way to the next stall, but the longer they walked through the market, the more people with thick clothes covering their faces appeared. It was cold, but not so much so that it would warrant more than a simple extra layer of robes.
There were murmurs and shaken people wandering around, as well as those who mocked the overprotectiveness of these garments. Those who trusted the falseness of the plague at its core. Taking in the divided state of the town, Luo Binghe didn’t know what to think. Both he and A-Yuan were not protected and wore their robes as they had before. Before long, Luo Binghe had taken the child into his arms and gone home.
It might be the plague, it might be a cold. Regardless, it wouldn’t do in his mind if A-Yuan got sick.
Soon, it became apparent that the plague was real, and it was here to stay and destroy. When they returned to town weeks after, the market was almost deserted. The stalls were abandoned and empty, as were the streets.
When they tried to approach one of the only merchants in sight, the man yelled at them, “Stop right there! Don’t come any closer.” They stopped no shorter than three meters away from the face-covered man. “Tell me what you want and I’ll throw it your way.”
Beside him, A-Yuan moved with unease. “A-Hua’s mother isn't here.”
The transaction occurred with a particular sense of tension. Luo Binghe gave the man the list of supplies he needed, of which not even a third was in stock, and the man did as promised throwing the pouches into the air and into Luo Binghe’s arms.
“You should cover your noses, the plague is highly contagious, and the kid might not make it if he catches it.”
When they got home, he scrubbed himself and A-Yuan until their flesh was rosy and their skin was wrinkled from the hot water. A-Yuan complained throughout the process, both about Binghe’s roughness and his disappointment at not being able to see his friend.
In the end, Luo Binghe decided to avoid town for as long as they could. Thankfully his home was better stocked than most because the trip to the village was so long, but his supplies were depleting after a few weeks, and he knew he couldn’t avoid returning to the market forever.
Later he would find out how fortunate and privileged they had been during the plague. The isolation that he insisted on keeping for A-Yuan's safety had safeguarded them from highly contagious areas. His supplies lasted longer than those of the townspeople. They were far away from the gruesomeness of the disease at the expense of some of their commodities.
"I’m bored," his child announced as he fell down on the bed. At this time, Luo Binghe had more or less explained the situation to him, not that he needed to, as A-Yuan was not stupid. Not for the first time he was grateful for the quietness and maturity he possessed. "When will I see A-Hua again? Can't he come and stay with us?"
From across the room, Luo Binghe shook his head. "It's too dangerous for any of us to be in contact," he responded as he glanced at the open letter in front of him. This was the last form of communication that he had received from the Shang household. It detailed their side of the plague. The lack of food, medical supplies, and money, and how its two inhabitants had been infected with it. It had been sent almost two weeks ago by a brave man who ventured all the way to their home. He had not talked about it with A-Yuan.
"Tomorrow I will go to town," he announced. "I'll get you some candy if I can find it."
It was enough to distract him for the rest of the day, not even their shared meditation session, which was more or less Binghe’s way to discharge the demonic energy from his body without raising suspicion, could get their minds clear.
A-Yuan was burning up, and Luo Binghe didn’t know what to do. He had everything he was supposed to. Stay away for three days and monitor his body for any symptoms. When he had not died on that fourth day, he had come back inside their house and put their supplies away.
His child, despite some slightly dirtied clothes and some broken ceramic vases, had been in perfect condition after those four days. Bored and smiling, he had been okay, so why was he burning up now?
It was bad, A-Yuan had no energy to talk, let alone move or eat. Luo Binghe had not slept in three days, all the hours spent attending to his sleeping child. He was so exhausted, and yet, he couldn’t stay asleep for longer than three hours without waking up from the anxiety. Was this how things would go? Was he going to fail his soulmate again? Was he so incapable of protecting anyone, so utterly useless that even when he tried his best he failed?
Between restless sleep and warm cheeks, A-Yuan had asked him a question. “Will A-Hua come to visit soon?”
The truth was that he would never come back again. “Yes, soon.”
If someone were to ask him what happened during that time, Luo Binghe wouldn’t know how to answer. The plague came and went in the blink of an eye over the course of just one year. It came out of nowhere and went away just like that, their lives reduced to long minutes and short hours, to an eternity of nothingness and everything. Small little snippets, that’s all he could remember.
In its aftermath, the plague managed to kill half the village. The bodies had been burnt in fear of further contagion, which left houses empty and stalls abandoned. The Shang house had been emptied out before some rich merchant built up a fence and acquired the land for himself.
There had been no funerals and no joss paper for them. When A-Yuan asked him why A-Hua and his mother no longer visited them, Binghe had been a coward. “They had to go visit someone very important. They will be away for a long time.” A-Yuan did not look convinced, but he nodded and went back to his homework.
As if things hadn't been devastating enough, an almost equally terrible arrival came on a sunny afternoon. It was a letter.
Dear Non-Covenant Witches and Non-Witches,
Due to the recent tragic events caused by the plague, it has been decided that The Witch Covenant will take charge over the southern and northern territories.
If you and/or your family live within these lands, Non-Covenant Witches and Non Witches are required to come by the newly established Witch Covenant settlement at Shanying to be registered for a census and given further instructions on the Witch Covenant Tax System.
Any Non-Covenant Witch or Non-Witch that refuses will be a) required to exit the newly settled territory or b) go on trial on charges of trespassing and tax evasion.
The deadline is ten days after this letter has been received.
Non-Covenant Witches that wish to join the Witch Covenant are invited to do so.
Regards,
The Witch Covenant.