#1 Beginnings

Xie Wang’s life has been a long string of unbroken cruelties. Knives in the dark, hard words under soft smiles, advances and retreats in a great tide.

It’s been consistent. Steady. Working for Yifu has been his equilibrium for so long. His whole life.

“Xiao Xie, who are you trying to kill with that stare of yours?”

He startles—turns to see the only man in the world capable of taking him by surprise. Zishu stands resplendent in midnight blue, his mouth creased in a tiny smirk, eyes glittering with snow-bright warmth.

The same breathtaking, regal poise that cut his ties so many months ago now. The same sparkling mischief he’ll eagerly follow into the beginning of his new life.

“Laoda, I’m only chasing the old year away from us,” he purrs, stepping close, “I’d never dare spill any amount of blood on A-Xing’s freshly cleaned floors."

#4: cooking

Xiao Xie wouldn't ever claim to be actually helpful in the kitchen. But it's nice, for awhile, letting A-Xing push him to do this or that task. It's comfortable. Peaceful, even.

That peace gets disrupted with the arrival of Wuxin Zisha and her little boytoy, each carrying a grouchy chicken in their arms.

"Zhuren, I told you Chengling wasn't going to be any good at killing a chicken!" She pushes her way into the kitchen, no one here so much as flinching as she deals with the chickens herself. "He's too soft! How could you have expected any different?"

Xiao Xie can almost see it now-- Chengling trying to butcher a chicken, failing, running after the bird to try and get it back, and being consoled when he couldn't by his shifu. It startles him, how easily he can imagine it. The surprise doesn't get to linger. Gu Xiang turns toward him, handing him the first of the birds, eyes bright with challenge. "Xie-dage, you can clean this up. Cao-gege can show you how."

He doesn't get so much as a word in edgewise as she bustles off to wash her hands and step right into A-Xing's side, sliding into the dance around the kitchen as if she were born knowing the steps. Maybe she was, he wouldn't know. He glances at Cao Weining then, who gives him a sheepish, apologetic smile and steps closer to show him what to do.

#3: Home

Talking to Chengling always left Xie Wang feeling…off. Not quite unsettled, but not centered, either. He’s glad to leave the somber moment behind and shoo the kid off to his training. It leaves him idle again, though.

He hates being idle. It leaves too much space for thought. He can feel it creeping in. Cloying, dark, at the edges of his mind. Reminders of lonely New Years’ Days, watching yifu from a distance, getting a greeting only after everyone else had gone to sleep. It’s inevitable then, that his feet find their way to the kitchen. A-Xing is there, moving to an unheard beat with precision and grace. Chopping, frying, stirring, kneading—

"Are you just going to stand there? Hurry up and help me with this!"

Xiao Xie jumps and scurries to his side, already tying back his sleeves as if he knows what to do with food. It doesn’t matter. A-Xing will show him. His hands are covered in starch and sticky dough and his heart is hammering warm before he realizes what A-Xing has done. He’s brought him in from the outside. He’s made space for him here.

The red bean dumplings turn out a little lumpy. But he’s never had one that tasted quite so perfect before.

It tastes like home.

#6: Cleaning

Really, it’s such a tacky shade of red. Blood, that is.

Xie Wang looks down his nose at the pile of Tianchuang corpses before him, a frightful mess in the front orchard. It won’t do to have Chengling see this, or that little puppy, Cao Weining.

Han Ying stands beside him, exasperated and tired. A-Xing has already been working him hard for days now, ever since he recovered enough from his poisoning to be on two feet once more. Their eyes meet as Xie Wang turns to look at him. Just long enough—expressing amusement, exasperation, irritation all in one glance before they begin to clean it up.

#2 Chosen Family

Xie Wang found Chengling in the gardens. Beautiful, simple things-- elegant and perfect, just like their master. Not at all the overdone ostentation of yifu's home. Elegant and perfect, and easily brought down like a warm shifu to their knees, muddied as they envelop a gloomy disciple.

Chengling's head was turned towards a worn letter in his lap--a keepsake, most likely, and not a study scroll. Xie Wang isn't really much one to approach people. But Xiao Xie-- Zishu's Xiao Xie--is trying. Has chosen to try. He chose to try now, too, stepping forward with footsteps that feel so loud in the quiet afternoon.

Chengling looks up at him and does his best to give him a little smile before looking back down at the letter. "… Shifu found one of diedie's old letters in his office," his fingers run along the edge of the paper.

The dirt is cold under his knees when he kneels down at his side. Chengling's bare throat bobs. "I miss him."

It isn't like he ever knew what it meant to have blood family. Xie Wang's only family had always been just yifu. And that bond turned out to be rotten through, in the end.

He rests his hand on Chengling's shoulder, silent. Unsure of what he could possibly say. But when Chengling leans into him-- heavy, for such a slight frame, but nothing he can't bear-- he knows he doesn't have to say anything.

Just choosing to be here… That is enough.

#15: Lantern Festival

Siji Shanzhuang looks beautiful in red; Xie Wang’s discerning eye made the house come alive in scarlet and gold.

He’s hanging his last lantern when Zishu comes up behind him and folds him in a warm embrace.

“Xiao Xie, are you done?” His breath is warm on his ear, sending a sharp shiver down his spine. “You’ve been busy all day long.”

“Laoda. Don’t you have any appreciation for my work?” Xiao Xie touches his lantern, then turns away from its gleam to face his lover, his ge. His light in the dark, the lantern beckoning him home. “Or… could it be you’re jealous? Perhaps you’ve been wishing I’d cover you in red instead?”

Zishu’s eyes burn bright and hot as the flames dancing all around them. “Perhaps I was hoping you’d come… decorate Lao Wen with me. Perhaps I’ve got him all laid out and waiting already.”

Xie Wang laughs. “Well then. It won’t do to keep him waiting.”

Zishu pulls away, just enough to lead him by the hand back into their room. For an instant, Xiao Xie’s vision swims with the sight of his back in a marketplace, in the street, and finally it fades to this:

Zishu, draped in soft silk, hazy with the golden glow of a dozen lanterns. Zishu, bright and brilliant and free. Zishu, pulling him into place at his side.

Xiao Xie smiles hard enough that his face hurts.

This is the best lantern festival of his entire life.

#14: Protection

Granted, Xie’er wasn’t thinking clearly—or at all—when he decided to walk away and follow Zhou-shouling—Zhou-ge—to his inn room in the middle of the night. A sober, well-adjusted Xie’er would be salivating at the mere chance to get him alone. He’s neither tonight.

It’s why he’s so taken aback to find himself behind Zhou-ge’s white sleeve, a furious Wen Kexing staring him down the edge of a bladed fan in all his lilac glory.

“A-Xu! What are you doing—get away from him, you know better!”

“Lao Wen, please—“

“Is he controlling you?! We saw what he could do with Deng Kuan!”

“Lao Wen.”

The room falls quiet, cacophonous in its sudden silence. This. This kind of authority; this calm, icy steel; this control, it’s—well. Normally it’d be the hottest thing in the world. Right now, it’s simply and purely reassuring.

Xie’er swallows. Sways a little, on his feet. He’s never felt like this before. So small, but not the same kind of small that yifu makes him feel. He feels—like a kitten. A kitten hiding in strong arms from a big dog.

Tears burn their way through his eyes, flush through his nose. He doesn’t know this feeling. It’s strange, it’s new, he wants more, even as his feels humiliated to be seen with such raw emotions on his face. But it’s the price he has to pay for this.

Hidden behind Zhou Zishu’s sleeve, he thinks he’d pay anything for this opportunity. To feel—to feel—

Safe.

11: Legacy - Zhou Zishu

It had been a long time since he'd really thought about that one New Year's day-- where he met a young Xie Wang before he was anything but Xie'er, when Zhou Zishu was only newly Zhou-shouling, investigating the borders of Jin wang's territory.

Watching Xiao Xie and Lao Wen dance around each other in a playful dance of fists and fine cloth in the training fields, he can't help but feel wistful and fond. They're both so terribly similar like that-- clinging to their gege, running happily through a market so the darkness can't catch them for a day.

He watches them, watches them spar until Lao Wen inevitably gets the upper hand, watches their limbs tangle and mouths meet over wild laughter. He can see it overlaid in his mind's eye-- his shifu playing here in the snow, Jiuxiao flinging snow back at him-- all of his shixiongdi training, messing around, living.

Zhou Zishu smiles, quiet and soft. He's proud of this. This glimmering moment, the love staining the earth, under the starlight… Another brilliant jewel to add to his shifu's legacy. Lost men brought home, brought to peace-- "A bad man can be forgiven if he puts down the sword. Zishu, don't forget-- Knowing everything we do about the world, Siji Shanzhuang takes in all blossoms that come across our threshold.

Shifu would be proud of this. Proud to call this his legacy.

#7: Celebration

Xie Wang cannot remember attending a new year's celebration even half as rowdy as this one. The sun has only barely set, and yet Gu Xiang is chasing Chengling and Cao Weining around the yard in some strange children's game, Han Ying is halfway to drunk and getting drunker as his zhuangzhu slips him more and more jiu, and A-Xing hasn't stopped bringing out dish after dish of perfectly cooked food. It's lively. It's vivacious.

It's missing someone.

Normally, Xie Wang isn't one to go fetch anyone missing from a meeting-- but he isn't Xie Wang now. He's Zishu's Xiao Xie. And Xiao Xie is making an effort-- to be part, to be worthy of being part of this home. This family.

So. He grabs a jar of jiu and makes his way up the path behind the manor. He finds Ye Baiyi there, drinking under the sunset with a grave and somber eyes. He cuts a striking figure like this, white clothes stained gold.

Xiao Xie steps up to stand at his side, jar dangling in his fingers. "…I may not know very much about him," he hums after a moment, "But I think he wouldn't want you to mope up here alone."

The immortal bristles. But they both know he's right.

"Come back home, qianbei." Xiao Xie turns to face him. "Have a drink with me. You can be maudlin tomorrow. Tonight it's time to celebrate."

#5: Fortune

Celebrating the new year at Sanbai Shanzhuang was always an opulent affair. Yifu didn’t have many relatives. Instead, he sent invitations to everyone he knew to come and visit—a grand, standing party to celebrate the “bonds of friendship”, or whatever he was using to mask his political hobknobbing. When Xie Wang was allowed to participate, he always handled the decor. Fine, elegant, expensive drapings, lanterns, tassels, all in theme, all in matching reds and gold. He handled it with enthusiasm, of course he did—even if he didn’t get to claim his rightful place in the family circle, even if he didn’t get to show his face, even if he could only hear about how much yifu’s guests enjoyed their time later, it was worth it just to feel included. To have a taste of what it might mean to be “Zhao Xie”.

Xiao Xie eyes the pile of options Zishu and Chengling piled in front him. A complete mishmash of harshly new decorations in bright red paper. A total disaster, really—though it’s to be expected, being the first year the new year has been celebrated here since the founding of Tianchuang.

It’s a mess. And yet, as he picks up one of the lanterns, feeling the crisp, cheap paper under his fingers, he can’t help thinking these are the best decorations he’s ever seen. After all, what’s opulence compared to the riches he’s found right here?

He smiles at them. “Well then. Shall we?”

#13: Light

It’s practically a jianghu law. When things go wrong, really wrong, one hits up the nearest open tavern. So that’s exactly where Xie’er goes, now that yifu’s tossed him out.

He’s not sure why people do this, frankly. The world is spinning, blurred, he feels sick to his stomach and sick in his chest and everything feels a thousand times worse than it did before.

He keeps his eyes trained on the table in front of him, head heavy in his hands. He’s sure he could justify his yifu’s words, sure he could go crawling back in the morning and be taken back in if he begs. He probably will. If he survives the night, anyway.

Everything feels so heavy. So dreadful. So-so—

Dark.

His shoulders shake. He knows, knows come morning he’ll have justified everything, excused it all, just as he has with everything else. The most frightening thing about the night—is that he doesn’t want to.

He’s sick to his heart and angry and alone.

His eyes blur and he closes them—the next time he opens them, a pot of hot tea sits before him. He jerks—looks up, wild, and sees—

That same worried face, but older. Perfect in all ways, as always, and all the more brilliant for its pale, haggard freedom.

Zhou-shouling is so bright tonight. More than ever before. He’s always been brilliant. Xie’er never acknowledges it. But tonight—tonight—

Xie’er’s hand lifts, hazy, dreamlike, yearning. “Zhou-ge.”

“I’m here.”

#12: Return

Get out!! Leave!!

Perhaps Xie Wang should’ve seen it coming. But Xie’er, still so oft under a scorpion’s shell, was left reeling as yifu kicked him out in a fit of drunken rage.

He felt raw. He felt dramatic, walking through the dark rain. Sure, Yifu had been drunk, but he was sure he meant it. Yifu had gotten angry with him before, but never like this.

He’d never been kicked away like this before. It staggers him. Abruptly, all at once, it puts him on his knees. He reels—

He really has nowhere to return to now, does he? A tool, cast aside, thrown away. No home to rest.

He lets the rain pound him down until he’s numb.

11: Legacy - Xie Wang

In all his time alive, Xie Wang hadn't really thought about what it meant to leave a legacy. Certainly, yifu spoke about it often-- the legacy he wanted to shape, the person he wanted to be remembered as, the wealth, the power, the influence, all for him to enjoy and flaunt. To never be looked down upon again. Xie'er had wanted to see his yifu's desires come to fruition. He'd wanted to see that legacy come true. But he hadn't really applied it to himself. He was a tool, and tools don't leave behind legacies.

But… what would Xie Wang's legacy be? He stands there now, staring off at the horizon, wondering-- thinking-- watching the stars stretch their reach across the sky. He supposes-- his Du Xie could be a legacy. Not terribly unlike Tianchuang. Something he has, even if he isn't sure he wants it anymore. Even if he's sure there's parts of it he needs to prune from its branches.

He watches the stars come out until his eyes are caught by kingfisher teal swirling through the grounds, A-Xing's singsong voice lilting up though the night air.

His lips twitch.

He decides-- he can send word to Du Pusa. He can do the same thing A-Xing did with Gui Gu.

Destroy it, leave it to people who care, and let this-- just this, this quiet peace-- be the only legacy that matters.

#10: Comfort

Xie'er is in a daze the next day. Last night took so much out of him. It was his first mission completely alone. His body doesn't feel real. He's sure he'll never feel quite real again.

He has time to be sad now, but he's an adult. It's not like he's been abandoned, or left unwanted. He's on an important mission. He'll be rewarded for his success.

He can't help thinking the only reward he wants right now is a stick of tanghulu at his yifu's side, laughing. Like when he was five and yifu still indulged him like a child.

The tanghulu is blurry now. The whole stand is. It smells so sweet but it feels so far away--

Xie'er blinks, wet trails escaping down his cheeks. There's a bright red fruit in front of him. A whole line of them, right before his nose. His eyes follow the stick and the hand holding it up to a concerned, perfect face. He can't be much older than Xie'er. Hair up and neat, beautiful beyond reckoning.

"… It's bad luck to cry today," he says, gentle despite the cool tone.

Xie'er swallows and takes the stick with shaking fingers. He shouldn't-- it isn't safe. But-- it's fine, just this once, right? He looks up at the young man again, speechless from the tight warmth choking his throat.

"Come on, didi. Just hang out with Zhou-ge today. It's going to be alright."

#9: Hope

He's fourteen now. There isn't any time to be sad.

Xie'er wipes the sweat off his face with his sleeve, blinking blearily at the mess he made of this room. And all the people in it.

It's the new year, and surely this is red enough to make yifu happy. Surely this is a perfect gift for him. A tribute for his elder, his parental guardian. His enemies, slaughtered messy, just like he wanted.

There isn't time to be sad. He needs to move the bodies into position. He needs this to look like a murder-suicide of yifu's political rivals before someone comes in. It's not the traditional kind of decorating, but it's not too different. He's watched it done before. Like playing with large dolls.

It keeps his hands busy. But he can't help remembering how it was last year, when he was helping to hang up beautiful lanterns, pasting up paper cut-outs just so. It was warmer. Brighter.

He shakes the thought from his head. Steels himself against the feeling of cooling blood. When he's done here, surely he can join in the festivities this year, like yifu promised. When he's done, when everything is done, he'll be introduced as part of the family properly. It'll happen this time. He knows it will.

He'll do whatever it takes. He can make it happen. He just needs to keep putting one foot in front of the other. One step at a time.

#8: Harvest

The morning after sees headaches for almost everyone in Siji Shanzhuang. Almost everyone—Xie Wang, Chengling, and Gu Xiang are really the only ones even up before mid morning. None of them are particularly inclined to change that, either. Xie Wang could be tempted into seeing what positions his lovers got themselves into last night, but he’s not particularly keen on the snapping sure to come from the both of them. Cao Weining is reportedly the saddest little dog, Ye-qianbei an actual bear, and Han Ying—it’s better not to think too hard about the black cloud hanging over his door.

It’s just as well. The three of them have a special task ahead of them: cleaning up the mess they made yesterday. Mopping up spilled food and drink, clearing out dishes, wiping down tables… the work seems endless.

Xie Wang is content, under his grumbling. The new year is for planting the seeds of the future—and if this is what his future looks like, he’s looking forward to that eventual harvest.

“Chengling!! Watch where you’re going with that—!”

Crash!

Yes. The work is endless. Necessary. And he couldn’t be more grateful for it.