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It takes Song Lan no time at all to figure out that the young girl who roams the village marketplace is faking her blindness. She’s a very good actor, no doubt, but Song Lan is a cultivator trained in noticing details most others would look past.
He’s only seen her twice during the week he’s spent in this village, Yi City as the locals call it. Out of all the other faces in the village he’s weaved and dodged around during the past week, he finds her to be the most interesting. On the first day he came into the village he spotted her tapping her stick on the ground impatiently as she bargained with a farmer over the quality of his fruit. Song Lan remembers the way she shouted ‘you better not be cheating me out of quality because I’m blind!’ loud enough for bystanders to look their way and for the farmer to cave into the young girl’s request. Song Lan didn’t stick around much longer to watch and see the girl walk away with her prize. He had food and shelter to hunt for that night.
Today, however, is the second time his eyes land on the girl. Song Lan has found a roof to perch on today, soaking up sun in a patch that peaks out through the clouds as he watches villagers walk through the marketplace below. There’s not much else for him to do during the day anymore.
The first thing he notices is how she walks peculiarly for a blind person. She has her walking stick in front of her, sweeping the ground ahead of her feet to knock away rocks and spare trash on the streets, but her steps are too steady and determined. She doesn’t hold herself back as she walks, too sure of her steps. She stumbles every now and then, all too calculated, as her stick sweeps past a rock too easily for her to stumble into it. Or she leans in too close to another villager and bumps into them on her path.
Not only that, but she keeps her head too steady. Song Lan has seen the blind before, one of the elder monks in his temple was blind. As a cultivator following his path for as long as he had, the lack of vision in his elderly age hardly bothered him. Still he would “look” with his ears rather than his eyes. He had the habit of titling his head in one direction wherever sound was coming from to hear what was around him.
This girl does not do the same. She barely tilts her head back and forth at all. And when she does it’s all too strange. She’s too still when someone talks to her and then swivels her head this way then that before picking a spot to stare blankly at.
And that brings Song Lan to his third point. Her eyes move. Hardly, not enough for anyone else but a cultivator or someone trained in the arts of body movement to notice, but it’s there. As someone blind, the girl had a bad habit of finding the exact person or object she’s speaking to or looking for with her eyes for just a second too long before they move away.
The blind girl isn’t blind. At most she might be visually impaired, but not blind.
Song Lan doesn’t understand his sudden interest in the girl. He had never been the most interested in children in any fashion, both as a shixiong to his shidi and a man seen by others at a prime age in his life to start a family. He could care less.
But there’s something about this girl and her disability that catches his interest. He blinks his eyes slowly as he watches her stumble carefully on the street beneath him, and can’t help but wonder about Xiao Xingchen.
It felt like only yesterday Song Lan was grieving over the massacre of his temple and loss of a sense. His sight was gone in hardly a blink.
It felt like a decade ago when he had woken up and seen once again. His sight was returned unwillingly when his dearest friend had made a hasty decision for the both of them.
Song Lan carefully does not think about how his eyes are now blue instead of brown.
He wonders how Xiao Xingchen adapted. When Song Lan lost his sight just after losing his home, he had been ready to give up his path as a cultivator and the honor and glory that came with it. Was that the same conclusion that Xiao Xingchen had reached when he gave up his sight? Or did he adapt, and continue moving forward?
It’s the latter that Song Lan hopes he chose. No cultivator was like Xiao Xingchen, fearless, brilliant, persevering, righteous, beautiful. To think he would have laid down his sword and gave up his master’s teachings? It seems impossible.
So Song Lan keeps searching for him, hoping that one day he’ll find white robes and a singing sword again, reuniting with his closest friend. Why he left, Song Lan still doesn’t understand. Did Xiao Xingchen really believe he did something so unforgivable?
Yes, Song Lan wishes that he didn’t disable himself for his sake. But it was not unforgivable, not a decision that Song Lan wouldn’t have moved on from. What he cared about was seeing his friend healthy and safe, not running away from his own actions.
But Xiao Xingchen did always find it difficult to confront conversations like that. He would rather put all the blame on himself or ignore that situation altogether.
Even the most righteous and honor-bound have flaws.
On the streets below the girl disappears in the crowd. Song Lan finally sits up from his perch, stretching as he soaks up the last of the sunbeam he is leaving behind, before jumping off the roof into an alley before slipping into the crowds himself. He’s bored and has nothing else to do but indulge his curiosity, and so he follows after the girl.
Normally most would be intimidated if not outright scared to see Song Lan tailing them. He’s not a small man by any means, with long legs, broad shoulders, and muscular limbs that make him an intimidating figure to most. With the added presence of a spiritual sword and horse-tail whisk that mark him as a cultivator, many people on the streets will go out of their way to move out of his path rather than stand near him. It was always Xiao Xingchen’s slight body, easy smiles, and friendly demeanor that were more appealing to people. Without him Song Lan has returned to receiving worried and scared glances from others. He tries not to let it bother him.
But right now? Well. Song Lan has landed himself in quite a predicament. Because at this moment in time, and for the past few weeks, Song Lan has been stuck in the body of a cat.
He’s still not so sure of how it happened. His best guess is a mix of cursed objects, demonic cultivation, and the bad luck that has been lingering with him for years now.
It was the most disorienting in those first few days, Song Lan struggling to come to terms with what happened. But now he’s all too used to this new, temporary, body of his. And, admittedly, there are some advantages to having a tiny, unnoticeable and overlooked body.
The streets are crowded. The sun is high in the sky, peaking through scattered clouds. The morning rush has come and gone, the afternoon crowd finding their way through the busy marketplace as vendors try to sell the rest of their wares for the day.
Song Lan follows after the girl, weaving through the crowd, as she navigates on her own. She still uses that stick of hers, swinging it back and forth, the crowd avoiding her as she approaches. She pauses here and there, as if stopping to listen to different vendors as they shout at her, but Song Lan notices the way her eyes skip here and there to focus on different stops. Eventually she settles on one and makes her way forward.
With nothing else to do, Song Lan follows.
Really the only reason he’s interested in the girl is his own boredom. He has no real understanding of his curse, and therefore, can do nothing to fix it. But he finds the girl intriguing. Maybe it’s the fake blindness, the memory of his own temporary disability haunting him, making him wonder why the girl would ever pretend in the first place.
Or maybe it’s this odd hope he has that a curse or strange spiritual energy might be hanging around her and could give him a clue as to why he’s stuck in the body he is now.
He doesn’t expect answers, but at most he hopes to gain some sort of ease for his boredom.
The vendor the girl stops to haggle with is selling eggs, although the girl seems far more interested in where she could get her own chickens rather than buy the eggs the older woman is selling. He’s barely paying attention to their conversation when he decides to make the impulsive decision to come up right next to the girl. Making up his mind Song Lan takes his lithe cat body and brushes right up against the girl so there’s no doubt, blind or not, that she will know that he’s there. The contact between her skin and his fur makes his gut churn a little, but knowing the girl obviously saw him coming and fakes the following flinching action at the touch between them puts him at ease.
“What is that?!” the girl exclaims, clutching her stick in hand tightly as she jumps hops from one foot to the other. “Miss did you see what touched me, I can’t see!”
The older woman laughs and watches with a smile as Song Lan sticks closely to the not-so-blind girl. It’s a bit cruel to laugh at who she thinks is a blind girl but knowing the truth himself, it is a little amusing, since the young girl’s reaction is over dramatic.
“It’s just a cat guniang!” the older woman reassures her. “Lucky things—cats are—in this town. They drive away the rodents! This one is friendly, maybe you can take him back home!”
“It’s a he?” the girl says with a wrinkle of her nose as she settles back onto her feet, less visibly distracted. Her acting skills are good but Song Lan thinks she needs more practice in going from an extreme behavior to a calm one. Her switch up is a little too unnatural. “I don’t need another boy at home.”
“I’d say so, girl cats are picky ones unlike this handsome fellow! You have lots of brothers, do you?”
“Something like that.” The girl shrugs her shoulders and Song Lan watches her eyes as they subtly flick to him. He hasn’t moved much since he’s come up to her, sitting at her feet and extending a paw to her like a beggar. It makes him feel stupid but he’s also a cat, what can he do? Especially when he was trying to extend his weaker spiritual energy to assess her own. “But you did say they drive away rodents?”
“Mm, my husband has a barn cat at home,” the woman answers. “She drives them off or eats them altogether.”
The girl sighs, almost wistfully, as she continues to subtly look Song Lan’s way. Her eyes are too focused, even with the white sheen over them. It’s a strange color, but not a disfigurement. Nothing seems off about her at all. “I could use that, there’s an awfully big rodent that sticks around my home.”
“All the best to you xiao guniang,” the older woman says. “Buy some eggs from me and I’ll give you tips on befriending him.”
The girl seems to perk up at the offer of a bargain and Song Lan takes that as his sign to leave. He’s seen the girl up close, confirmed enough for himself that she’s not blind like she pretends to be, but she’s no threat. There’s no dangerous spiritual energy to her, no curse, nothing. Just a girl looking to get something more out of life with a peculiarity and acting skills.
Curiosity stated, Song Lan slinks off to look for the next thing that could ease his boredom. There’s not a whole lot to do when one is stuck in the body of a cat afterall.
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With no way of knowing how to break his curse himself, Song Lan sticks around in Yi City for days longer. He has no real plan on what to do. His best bet in figuring out his curse is finding a cultivator, preferably one well-versed with curses and artifacts, anything that could get him back to his human form.
He neglects to seek out the aid of a cultivation sect. There’s no real harm in doing so, but no real benefit either. Cultivation sects—as much as they boast about honor, glory, and helping others—are always looking for something to exchange or better themselves. Coin, fame, services, whatever it may be Song Lan wants to avoid ending up in even more debt.
Especially when the Jin are the most likely to have helpful artifacts—after they screwed up Xue Yang’s capture and execution Song Lan quickly lost faith in most of the sects.
He’d rather pay a hard working rogue cultivator or temple monk than any sect cultivator.
So he watches, and eventually does his best to “befriend” the townsfolk. He gets offered more than just scraps and isn’t chased away by cruel hands. Instead some people smile when they see him sleeping on a roof or trotting through the streets.
The not-so-blind girl is one of these townsfolk. He later learns that her name is A-Qing, as vendors who are familiar with her call her by that name on the days she’s in town. She feeds him and as the days pass Song Lan even allows her to pet him once or twice. She’s still the most interesting of all the townsfolk, and she’s respectful, so he doesn’t mind her. She’s also a great source of gossip—her attentive ears picking up more than what most others listen to—as she spits the town chatter straight back out to him because she doesn’t know any better.
He does have the added bonus that she thinks she is talking to a cat, so Song Lan can’t really claim his charm or personality won him this source of free gossip.
Considering how much A-Qing talks, Song Lan puts things together. Most of it is town gossip; which young man was caught talking to another young woman, which farmer was upset at his neighbor, which vendor not to trust because they tried to scam A-Qing too many times. But he also learns little things about the town. Superstitions, stories of old beasts and spirits, beliefs the townsfolk have passed around to each other.
To his knowledge there are no cultivators, at least not until A-Qing and her family (which Song Lan never gets a solid answer about since A-Qing has new daily perceptions about the men that take care of her) settled into town. A-Qing refers to someone at her home as “Daozhang”, a man she speaks of kindly—if not a little critical of, which is not surprising for a girl her age. Even as a boy raised in a strict temple Song Lan could not avoid his moody teenage years. Yet from the sounds of it the man she refers to is currently out of town but will be returning soon.
And when he does, Song Lan is struck frozen.
Because this isn’t just any wandering or rogue cultivators. This is his.
The bright moon and gentle breeze to his own distant snow and cold frost. The young man he hasn’t seen since that day he was blinded. His cultivation partner, the hands that hold his heart.
Not that Xingchen knows that, but Song Lan would have no other. He is still as beautiful as the day he lost sight of him.
Song Lan doesn’t even need to take the time to make a decision before he is on his feet—springing himself off of his usual rooftop resting place—and racing through the bustling streets and to nestle himself between A-Qing and Xiao Xingchen.
The girl doesn’t move an inch when Song Lan nudges up against her, but on his other side, Xiao Xingchen gives off the most minute flinch.
“A-Qing?” Xiao Xingchen says the girl’s name like a question. She takes a moment to catch on, eyes flicking quickly between Song Lan and her daozhang. She lets out a little gasp of glee before tugging on Xiao Xingchen’s sleeve.
“Daozhang!” she exclaims. “It’s the cat I was telling you about! He’s come back!”
“Has he now?” Xiao Xingchen’s voice is still as gentle and as graceful as ever. A-Qing chirps back a reply but Song Lan lets her voice fade into the background as he studies Xiao Xingchen more closely.
The way he smiles is still the same, sweet and gentle. Those little smiles were always genuine, sometimes teasing, but beautiful. His eyes used to crinkle in the corners when he smiled, but now what remains of them are covered by a white strip of cloth that is wrapped around his head. Song Lan wishes he was able to gouge his eyes out and give them right back to his cultivation partner, but it’s too late for such a thing now. What’s done is done, and Song Lan must live with the gift he has been given.
Regardless, he wants to repay Xiao Xingchen in some way. If he must devote the rest of his life to being his guide or his protector, he will.
But for a blind man, Xiao Xingchen does not look to be doing poorly. He still wears his sword on his belt. His hair is still carefully groomed and pulled away in a ponytail. His clothes are clean, still the white robes with accents of black at the edges of his sleeves and hems. His face isn’t gaunt, he looks well fed and healthy. His skin is clear, his cheeks a gently flushed pink, and that little smile still paints his lips.
Song Lan wishes he was in his human form and was able to wrap him up in a hug he so rarely gave. But to hold Xiao Xingchen? Song Lan would do anything for that, to hold him close again and re-memorize what it felt like to have him in his arms.
Instead he must put up with A-Qing’s cooing and poorly hidden bribes at getting him to follow her home and Xiao Xingchen conceals his laughter at her side.
Today is her lucky day, because where Xiao Xingchen goes, Song Lan will follow.
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Song Lan has a blessed three days with Xiao Xingchen. Turns out he had taken up residence in Yi City’s old coffin house. From the outside the building wasn’t much, looking worse for wear more than it looked like a home, but the inside was transformed into a liveable place for Xiao Xingchen and his ward.
There were a lot of things about the space that Song Lan took some time to make sense of when he first started roaming around the house. Furniture pushed into slightly awkward places. Clothing and other items laid about in what felt like revealing places. But after he observed how Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing navigated the space it made sense.
Xiao Xingchen was blind and relied on his sight to navigate. It was clear he had been living here for a while as many of the things and spaces he moved about seemed like second nature to him. But he also took the time to brush his hand along the wall, to sweep his foot out before taking a step, double checking with other senses to make up for his lack of sight.
A-Qing must have some sort of sight impairedness too because she shared similar habits to her daozhang. She also would brush her fingers along the walls and use her hands to see with what her eyes could not.
It was not easy to slot into their space. Song Lan desperately wants to be a part of their routine and just be another person in the building, stepping into the kitchen, organizing the table, meditating in the side rooms they had claimed as their own. But he couldn’t.
At the same time he didn’t want to be too slow to be a part of their routine. Stuck in this cat body he was smaller, taking up way less space. It was easier to disappear or be forgotten in plain sight, especially for two blind (or nearly) people. Multiple times now in the span of just a few days Song Lan has been spooked awake from a nap, tripped over, and scared the two humans in their home.
But every time they would apologize to him instead for what was his mistake, calling him by sweet nicknames and giving him a treat. Song Lan didn’t know how to feel about all of this doting on. For him it was beginning to feel like too much. But at the same time, after so long away from his dearest friend, he ached for any attention he could get.
It wasn’t the same, but it was worth something.
At least until he showed up.
Song Lan is napping in one of the sunbeams coming through the window when the new voice wakes him up. A familiar one, belonging to a man he could never forget.
How could he, when Xue Yang was responsible for his and Xiao Xingchen’s demise?
“Daozhang! A-Qing!” the young man calls out as he nudged open the door and made his way inside. In his arm was a bundle of different fruits and vegetables, obviously from the city market. On his belt was an unfamiliar sword, along with other pouches and ornaments. Yet what was still the most familiar was the unique glove on his hand carefully hiding his missing pinky finger.
Immediately Song Lan was on alert, hair rising on his back. Xue Yang waltzed into the coffin house like he owned the place, like he was familiar with it. And maybe he was.
That is what scares Song Lan the most when the man walks by. Not that he walks in so easily, with a sword at his side and a smile on his face, but because he called Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing so easily. Like he had done this dozens of times before.
“Already?” comes A-Qing’s voice from the other room. “You should have stayed away!”
Her words are followed by Xiao Xingchen’s laughter and Xue Yang’s own smile. Song Lan can’t help but bristle when his cultivation partner steps out of the room and unknowingly returns Xue Yang’s smile.
“Welcome back Chengmei,” he greets. “It’s good to see you home safe.”
Chengmei? Home? Safe?
Had Xiao Xingchen gone mad? Did he not recognize who stood before him? The very man that ruined him?
Xue Yang only laughs as he sets his bundle of goods down in the kitchen. His eyes are fixated on Xiao Xingchen, his face wearing a peculiar expression Song Lan could only describe as fond. The softness should have been unnatural on him, especially for the monster that is Xue Yang. But there is no sign of his demonicness when he looks at Xiao Xingchen in such a friendly manner.
That fondness turns into curiosity when eyes stray and come to land on Song Lan instead. Xue Yang raises an eyebrow as his dark eyes scan Song Lan’s tiny body, from the dark hair on his back that is raised to the piercing glare that his blue eyes emit.
“You’ve brought home someone new while I was gone?” Xue Yang’s words are spoken with amusement as his lips curl into a too-wide grin.
“We replaced you!” A-Qing calls out as she pops out from behind Xiao Xingchen, watching Xue Yang with careful eyes. At least someone in this house has some sense. “Now you can leave!”
“A-Qing,” Xingchen chastises. “Be nice.”
“Yes yes little blind listen to you elders!” Xue Yang tuts even as A-Qing glares at him. “Besides this isn’t your house, you can’t make the rules!”
“It isn’t yours either!”
The bickering continues and Song Lan takes this opportunity to slinker away from the spot he had been napping in to join Xingchen as his side. Unfortunately, as much as he hates to admit it, Xue Yang’s cultivation skills are in no way lacking. As Song Lan tries to take his chance to bound over to Xingchen suddenly there are hands wrapping around his middle and plucking him off the ground.
“You haven’t introduced me to our new housemate yet!” Xue Yang says cheerfully. Song Lan is spun in the air and twisted to meet the madman face to face. He is smiling as he holds up Song Lan in the air. If Song Lan didn’t know any better he’d say the smile was genuine.
So he screams in his face.
Claws unsheathe themselves as he swipes at Xue Yang’s bastardous face, determined to gouge out his eyes just like the madman did to him. He bares his teeth and hisses in his face, growls shaking his body, as he squirms and tries to break free from the hold he is captured in.
“Xiao xue!” Xingchen exclaims. Song Lan startles.
How he hates that name. A-Qing gave it to him, saying it was because of how he took time to warm up to them in the same way it takes snow time to melt. But how he hates to share the character with his tormentor.
Xue Yang seems to startle too, bristling even as he masks the movement and keeps his usual half-manic grin plastered on his face.
“Little snow?” he says with a laugh. “Your new friend does seem awfully cold.”
Xingchen frowns as Song Lan swipes his paw at Xue Yang’s face again. The man holding him finally lets him go, setting him down on the ground more gently than Song Lan would expect from him, but he does have some sort of image he’s trying to uphold in front of Xingchen and A-Qing. The moment he is free Song Lan darts to Xingchen’s side and tucks himself between the long layers of his robes.
Even though he is out of the sight of the madman he is reminded of his presence as he continues to laugh.
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War is the only way Song Lan can describe the way he deliberately tries to make Xue Yang’s life on earth hellish. Each action taken in his day to day is thought out carefully in a way to specifically torment the man. He sits in spots he knows Xue Yang will miss him and trips. He tears his claws through his laundry after it is hung up to dry, putting holes in everything from his outer robes to underpants. He hides away the man’s trinkets in spots he can’t find them. He knocks his things off the counters, spills ink across his papers, drags his muddy body through the house before laying on his pillows.
At first Xue Yang seemed amused to have made an enemy out of a cat. But as the days pass and the weeks blur together Song Lan watches his resolve fall apart. Each little action drives the man into further insanity, his anger boiling and daring to spill over.
A-Qing certainly finds it hilarious as Song Lan allows her attention. Xingchen does not. It makes guilt curdle in his stomach when Song Lan catches Xingchen’s sad and disappointed expressions, but he feels no such guilt when he sees the way Xue Yang scowls and hears him curse.
A part of him knows he is playing a terrible game of fate antagonizing the man in the way he is. He has seen the destruction and torment the man is capable of. Song Lan is well aware he is playing with fire.
But when he thinks back to the day where his people were slaughtered, where his eyes were stolen, where they returned but at the cost of Xingchen…he doesn’t mind so much. It feels well worth it. He can only do so much as a cat too. And Xue Yan would only appear crazier for taking revenge on a cat in such a way too.
Until he does.
It is a dark day when Song Lan slips outside, the walls of the house feeling too confining, Xue Yang’s laughs too loud as he teases Xingchen and A-Qing.
It is unbearable to be around him when he plays house like this. He has everything that Song Lan wished he could have had. A life with Xingchen, a sort of disciple, and a home. Xue Yang gets to have that, Chengmei , the man he pretends to be, gets to have that. Meanwhile Song Lan is stuck in a cursed body, unknown to his best friend, and nothing more than a pet in the eyes of the household he has inserted himself into.
He cannot help but be bitter. Maybe that is why he ignores the signs of a storm as he bounds outside and puts as much distance between him and the house as he allows. The thought of truly leaving Xingchen behind with Xue Yang makes him feel ill, so he never strays too far, but he still needs his space.
In the end it gets him locked out of the house in the middle of a storm. He yowls and screams and scratches at the door and windows in the only ways he can while stuck in this body, trying to get back in. Rain drenches his fur and is cold, the autumn weather all too apparent as the chill sets in.
It’s only after he’s screamed at the door for ages that he notices the sound-repelling talisman stuck high on the door, out of his reach. Song Lan recognizes the poor handwriting anywhere. It’s the art of Xue Yang.
He is stuck outside, forced to have his own yowls and attempts at getting back inside drowned out because of one simple talisman warding their home.
All over again Song Lan feels discarded. He does not know why he feels so forgotten and mistreated like he did when he first awoke with new sight, realizing too late that Xiao Xingchen had abandoned him. He knows this is because of Xue Yang, he knows that this is his work, but it feels like Xingchen shutting him out all over again.
Song Lan has nowhere else to go. He doesn’t dare leave, knowing he would never leave Xingchen at Xue Yang’s mercy, A-Qing for that matter too. But he cannot get inside. So he does the only thing that comes to mind, curl up in front of the door, letting the rain soak his fur and the chill rattle his tiny frame.
There is nothing else he can do.
It feels like an eternity later when the door opens up behind him and hands gently pick him up and cradle him close. He is cold, too cold, too weak for a man of his age and cultivator of his caliber. But he cannot help but huddle into the warmth.
He expects to open his eyes and see white robes and a soft smile. To see the face of his beloved looking at him with that kind of soft expression he reserves only for him. To wake from the awful dream he has found himself stuck in.
Instead he opens his eyes to find the arms cradling him belonging to the very madman that has taken everything from him.
He is too tired to scream and fight back. Maybe this is his fate, to have Xue Yang put him out of his misery and snuff the life out of him. It wouldn’t be hard, not as he is now.
Instead the madman brushes his head gently and gives him a little smile.
“I’m sorry,” Xue Yang says. “I didn’t mean to lock you out, the rain was bothering A-Qing. It wasn’t meant to keep you out. I’m sorry.”
Song Lan must have died. This must be some sort of special hell, for him to hear an apology out of Xue Yang’s mouth.
But as the hands that hold him gently transfer spiritual energy and bring warmth back into his cold body, Song Lan cannot deny the truth in front of him.
Xue Yang is being kind.
He didn’t think that was something he was capable of.
Maybe it is the shock of those words that finally knocks Song Lan out as his cold, tired body gives out in Xue Yang’s arms.
The next few days he spends feverish. Memories come to him in vague flashes. A-Qing petting his fur and cooing at him as he rests. Xingchen bringing him into his lap to feed him and keep him warm. And finally Xue Yang hovering around him, passing him spiritual energy in tiny little bits so as to not overwhelm his system, and his eyes looking all too concerned.
He catches bits of conversation, here and there, while he is coherent.
“I didn’t know you were so fond of animals,” says Xingchen’s voice. He is close, but not enough. The hands that hold him don’t belong to his beloved.
There is a snort above him and a shudder of laughter that comes from the body that he rests upon.
“I am not,” says Xue Yang’s voice from above him. “But cats were always an exception. Dogs on the streets are competition, but cats don’t give a fuck about you as long as you leave them alone. It makes the ones that choose you all the more special.”
“Xiao xue didn’t seem to choose you.”
“I would say he might’ve warmed up to me now.”
There is more soft laughter and Song Lan drifts again, allowing himself to fall back into sleep even while he rests in the arms of his enemy.
But can he really call him the enemy anymore? There will never be any forgiveness for the man that slaughtered his family, his people. But what about the man that has shown kindness to a blind man? Given an orphan girl a home? A man, who despite all of his cruelty, will spare a moment of his time to crouch down to extend a hand to a cat and hope for one touch?
It feels cruel to watch the way Xue Yang changes. But maybe that is Song Lan changing too.
Everything comes to an end one day when Song Lan wakes and knows the sickness has finally left him. The house is quiet, absent of A-Qing and Xingchen’s usual presences. It is only Xue Yang home, who sleeps beside him on the bedroll on the floor. He seems to realize when Song Lan wakes, his dark eyes opening slowly and coming to rest upon Song Lan when he blinks into awareness.
“Xiao xue!” he says softly, but with excitement. “Finally feeling well?”
A hand reaches out and Song Lan surprises himself when he allows Xue Yang to pet him gently, running his hand down his spine. He lifts it to scratch behind his ears and Song Lan leans into the touch. An impossible purr escapes from him as he embraces the touch and he watches with slitted eyes as Xue Yang smiles softly.
“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Xue Yang says. “You had us worried there when you were so sick. Little blind cried, and usually I’m off to beat up anyone who makes her cry. You even had Xingchen worried.”
Song Lan would kill himself with his own sword if he dared to hurt Xingchen in any fashion again. He knows it is his own fault in a way that he got so sick, but regardless, he would never want to bring any harm to his best friend.
“I am glad that you are well,” Xue Yang continues. “I’ve gotten too used to having you around, you can’t leave now.”
The hand petting him lifts off as Xue Yang ducks down and presses the softest, little affectionate kiss to his head. SOng Lan feels sparks upon his skin and in a flash the sensation of fur, whiskers, and claws is gone. Instead there is skin, hair, and cloth as he feels his body retake a familiar shape and all but fall into the space beside Xue Yang.
There is a long moment of silence as the two of them stare at each other and catch their bearings. Xue Yang’s eyes are wide with surprise and Song Lan can feel his own heart beating loudly in his chest.
Then the madman attempts to scramble. He rolls to his side and begins to launch himself onto his feet when Song Lan shoots his hand out, grabs his wrist, and tugs him back down again. He rolls onto the other man and pins him underneath him, arms caging in Xue Yang’s head and forcing the man to stare up into his eyes.
The manic grin that had naturally begun to form on his face slips away as Xue Yang’s expression falls into something more resigned…and defeated.
“So this is how it is,” Xue Yang says. “You hunt me down, trick me, and now must be here to finish me off.”
Song Lan says nothing for a long moment as he stares into his eyes. He is frozen, unable to say anything or make any moves. For so long he has thought about a moment like this, a moment where he could wrap his hands around Xue Yang’s neck, spear him through with his sword, break every limb and gouge his eyes out and ask did you like that? Did you like the pain? Will you laugh like you did when you tortured me? Or will you scream?
But he remains silent.
He thinks of the devastation Xingchen would feel at Xue Yang’s betrayal. The hurt he would feel if Song Lan killed him by himself. The feelings he would hide when he wouldn’t dare to admit he befriended his own tormentor and was guilty to admit he missed him.
Song Lan doesn’t get the chance to make any sort of decision himself before the door to the room opens and in walks Xiao Xingchen himself.
“Oh,” he says dumbly, as if his eyes could see through the cloth wrapped around them and were staring at the awkwardly intimate way that Song Lan had Xue Yang pinned underneath him on the floor. Despite himself, Song Lan feels his face flush red. Beneath him Xue Yang is flushed a similar color.
“Daozhang!” Xue Yang calls out as he squirms.
“I can explain,” Song Lan can’t help but say as he rests more of his weight on Xue Yang to keep him pinned.
“I certainly hope so,” Xingchen says. “Did Xue Yang help you fix your curse Song Lan, or did you figure that out yourself?”
“What.” Xue Yang and Song Lan say together. Xingchen doesn’t acknowledge their confusion as he crosses the room to sit with the two of them. He pulls Song Lan off of Xue Yang, pulling the madman to sit up so the three of them are sitting on the bedmat together. Xue Yang and Song Lan find themselves similarly frozen as Xingchen steals their attention away from each other.
“Have you two figured things out then?” Xingchen continues. He takes one of each of their hands in his own and gives them a gentle squeeze as he smiles gently, too much like a parent chastising their rowdy children. Song Lan feels so lost. “Because I would rather not have an awkward dinner with A-Qing tonight. She’ll already be sad to miss her cat.”
“I don’t understand,” Song Lan says while Xue Yang wails “You knew? All these months you knew it was me?”
Xingchen only gives them a smile. It answers nothing.
“I am very good at detecting different spiritual, or demonic, energies,” he explains. “My master always said it was a gift of mine. Now make yourselves proper again, help me with dinner, then we will talk more later, loves.”
With a kiss to both of their cheeks Xingchen then lifts himself to his feet, giving them a too-smug smile, before he leaves the room.
“Love?” Xue Yang says, his words barely above a whisper, like he cannot believe such a thing just happened. To be fair neither can Song Lan.
Who knew that Xingchen had room in his heart for the both of them.
But Song Lan cannot help but admit that Xue Yang had grown on himself as well. His resentment was so strong for so long, but forgiveness was a fickle thing. As was love, which in itself, was a very powerful thing as well.
Powerful enough to change feelings and fate.