Chapter Text
Wu Xie looked at the journal in his hands; the cover and pages had darkened with age, but it was obvious that much had been done to preserve it. When it had first been handed to him, there had been old beeswax paper and twine meticulously wrapped around the small leather-bound book. This little detail showed how important something so unassuming had been to the writer and allowed the journal to fare quite well over the hundred or so years it had been hidden.
He glanced up at Zhang Hailou, who stood in the doorway of his office, leaning against the dark-stained wood. There was an unlit cigarette in his mouth, and judging from how he was playing with his lighter, Wu Xie could tell the man was itching to light it - but respected that there was no smoking in the house.
After all, Wu Xie hadn't quit for this long to have him ruin it. Xiaoge had been the one who had asked Wu Xie to stop, and he refused to let him down. It was hard to deny him when his lover asked for so little, and what he did ask for, Wu Xie was more than happy to indulge him. If that meant giving up a bad habit he'd had for far too long, it was worth the withdrawal he'd gone through.
Yet, considering what Wu Xie held in his hands, he understood the nervousness that Zhang Hailou felt. Wu Xie could feel his anxiety rising as well, and might break down and pick up the damn habit once again. "And… you are saying you just remembered this existed?"
Hailou shrugged, his hand moving to his forehead before flicking it away, a gesture showing his inevitable forgetfulness - given how he was. "I'm old," he muttered, "what the fuck did you expect from me?"
He snorted and rolled his eyes at hearing those words, then looked back down at the small journal. "Well, damn. So, you weren't lying. You did know his father,"
"His parents." He said, cutting him off, and yet confirming his words.
Wu Xie watched him for a moment after Hailou said that, then repeated, "his parents," his eyes fell back on the book. "You had this the whole time?"
"All this digging into my past you've been doing," Hailou pulled the cigarette out of his mouth, tapping it as if he were removing the ash from the end. Was the anxiety of the situation getting to him, or was there something more to this? "It's stirred my memories and made me remember… so many things. I won't lie, some were better forgotten… but then I remembered Haixia hiding that for our Patriarch, in case he ever came asking." He paused for a moment, then put the unlit cigarette back into his mouth. "When I went back to our house in Malacca, I found it under the floorboards in what was once our office."
"I see."
They were both quiet for a moment, then Zhang Hailou breathed out. "Remember what I once told you when we started all this shit?" He pushed himself away from the doorframe, taking a few steps into Wu Xie's office, his eyes roaming over the shelves with all of his journals.
Some were his personal stories, the time spent with Xiaoge and Wang Pangzi in his youth. Others were from the ten years he'd spent without his lover, all the information he'd found out about his life, and the lives of the Zhang Clan he'd become the head of. There were also Zhang Hailou's journals, and all the information from what Hailou had dubbed 'The Southern Archives' that he'd been sending him over the months. A veritable menagerie of stories, an anthology of the lives that had been lost to the past.
A history that, to most, would seemed more fabrications than based in truth.
But, he did remember what Zhang Hailou had told him… "The Zhang, they are not good people."
That made him smirk. "None of us are, not even your beloved Xiaoge. The sacrifices that we made in the past, and continue to make… it might be all over. The patriarch might have done his part and cured us. But we still make choices, every day, that changed the course of our history. There are still those who would see our clan rise again, but at what cost?" His eyes fell on Wu Xie, his hands waving towards the shelves of books and journals. "Do you honestly believe all of this is that simple? That everything is done, fixed, made right? Is all of this truly in the past?"
Wu Xie might be called Tianzhen, but he wasn't that innocent. The Zhang Clan was complicated; he'd learned that during the ten years Xiaoge had been inside the Bronze Door. Although he did everything he could to resolve all the issues surrounding Xiaoge, he could never wipe away the Zhang Family's past or those who might continue to fight for the clan's future, which would only hurt Xiaoge in the end. The fact that he could live as he wished now did not change the fact that Xiaoge never led a decent life. If some had it their way, he might never have one.
That is why, even now, Wu Xie was still fighting his fights… longing to discover his past and complete his story. There was still so much missing, and yet, Zhang Hailou had brought him this. A possible ending to a long journey, and he couldn't help but wonder if this was truly it. Would this small journal finally complete Xiaoge's life, and give him the answers he'd longed for?
To find his connection. To know who he was, and where he'd come from. Would it bring him some sense of peace?
No matter how much Wu Xie wanted to live an ordinary life with Xiaoge, this had always loomed like a dark cloud. A promise unfulfilled.
In the beginning, Wu Xie felt he had no choice but to involve himself in this mystery to find his own answers to questions he'd long held. Over time, that had changed; he'd wanted to protect Xiaoge. To help him solve the questions that surrounded his life, and that of the Zhang Clan. He wondered if there were some truths better left undiscovered, that maybe the unknown answers were a blessing to the man who'd lived far too long under the weight of his title.
Xiaoge had been in the dark for so long. Forgetting, remembering, and forgetting again… he knew better than most what it was like to live with so many unanswered questions. But, unlike Wu Xie, he'd had no one to direct such questions to… until Hailou came back into his life. As much as the man annoyed him at times, he was grateful for that.
Still, Wu Xie had always wanted more for him. Better for him. He remembered that once, long ago, Xiaoge had told him that everything he did was to find the tie between himself and the world around him. He wanted to know where he'd come from, and why he was here.
Maybe that was why, despite everything, Wu Xie couldn't let it go. Why had he continued to search for answers… even after Xiaoge had told him it was enough once they had retired. Still, he remembered that night in the desert…
'Wu Xie, I'm on your side.'
So, how could Wu Xie not be on Xiaoge's side? They had already been through so much together that Wu Xie wasn't sure he knew how to stop. After all, no matter how long it took, what was one more riddle for Xiaoge's sake?
"One last question to answer," he muttered, hearing the other man let out a hum. Wu Xie looked up at Hailou, holding up the small journal. "I want this to finally end everything, but will it?"
He didn't seem to know how to answer that question, then, Zhang Hailou shrugged. "I never read her journal. Why would I when I had to live it?" There was a pause, and he turned away from him. "I've already made enough mistakes in my life, and now I have kept a promise long forgotten. So, you tell me?" Raising a hand in farewell, Hailou made his way out the door of his office. "Speaking of promises, I'm going to check on my Patriarch."
He watched the man until he was out of sight, then looked back at the journal. Breathing out, Wu Xie opened the cover and, despite the damage to his sense of smell, he swore he could catch the scent of worn leather and old paper that held the fragrance of vanilla and mustiness. Oddly, Wu Xie even swore there was a faint aroma of… snow.
Wu Xie turned another page, and his eyes fell on the small, graceful print that was written there.
⊹ 29th of July, 1889
A man has come to our tribe; he is from the Zhang Clan, and I have been asked to assist him.
Now this might be a mistake
That I'm calling you this late
But these dreams I have of you ain't real enough
Started bringing up the past
How the things you love don't last
Even though this isn't fair for both of us
Oh-oh, maybe I'm just a fool
I still belong with you
Anywhere you, anywhere you are
These minefields that I walk through
What I risk to be close to you
These minefields keeping me from you
What I risk to be close to you
Close to you…