A deep, scarlet hunger gnawed at Xiao Fan's heart.
She made to further steel her mind, but nothing seemed to work - shutting her eyes, plugging her ears, gritting her teeth... Attempts to draw back the tendrils of her soul, those 'roots' in her waking mind, were met with failure. She couldn't disconnect from her fury; fury she should no longer feel. She knew that it had ended, that it was over. She stood on hard-pounded dirt in the main street of a town she had never seen, bodies strewn across the soil, and yet her fists could not uncurl themselves.
She screamed within her own head as her eyes forced themselves open, going down to look at the scum at her feet. The man whose pride she had all but removed lay vacating his stomach, whimpering and sobbing between rushes of green spittle and bile. She couldn't help but sneer. Her feet moved on their own as she took a step over him, raising her right, and slowly - tentatively - setting it upon his windpipe. She gave it an exploratory press, causing him to gag and cough.
It would be a simple matter to crush it. To raise her booted foot and bring it down like a woodsman splitting timber. He would be split much the same - his throat, at least. She could desecrate the rest of him later. She felt herself slowly raise her leg again, staring down at her soon-to-be victim with a disgust not entirely her own. Within her own mind, she pounded at the walls like a caged beast, seeking to end her own body's cruelty.
She dropped her foot with the force of a tidal wave.
Except, she didn't. She made to - her physique tensed, her muscles and joints aligned, she brought her heel down with everything she could muster, but she missed. Something heavy and thick slammed into her ribcage from just out of view, sending her toppling to the ground, off of and away from her target.
"Xiao Fan! He is finished; leave him be, meimei. He's had more than enough..." Zhichao Tingfeng's voice split the background rumble of pain and despair. For the first time, she heard his tone come across stern, disciplinary - chastising. Her still-heated blood rushed to her cheeks; what was left of it, anyways. The revenant pushed herself up from where she lay sprawled, looking over to her master, mouth agape. He was holding an armful of large stones, picked up from the wayside; looking to where she had been standing, he had thrown one at her.
His face was a grim scowl, restrained displeasure staining his normally elegant countenance. The further he looked at her, though, the more of his disdain wicked away into outright pity. "Ahh, meimei... A-Fan, what are you doing? I know... Guh. What do I know?" He put his free hand to his face, thumb and forefinger rubbing at his now-closed eyes. He approached her a few steps before speaking again, stepping over the dead, dying, or disabled men. "We will speak of this later. Can you get ahold of yourself long enough to speak with the governor with me?"
She noticed now that the roots had recoiled; the tendrils of her spirit lay within their home for now, retracted from blood and bone. Dully, she felt the summer's wind upon her torso - chilled from cooling blood, all warmth withheld. Her head bobbled in response, what was meant to be a firm nod performed with altogether too much vigor. Zhichao Tingfeng sighed, shutting his eyes again, turning on a heel and heading down the path. Xiao Fan couldn't help but notice his robes were unblemished; no blood stained them, no slashes or punctures were present.
She looked down at herself, and while the ice had only just begun to reform overtop of her emotions, she couldn't help but choke out a cry. She looked horrible; worse than horrible, even. Her chest was soaked in a deep, repulsive red - sternum and stomach were both afflicted with gaping, sucking wounds, wounds that would be a death sentence to any mortal. Her hand was completely cut in half, as well, and even past that... Her hair was a rat's nest of blood and gore, her face was spattered in it, and every part of her was speckled with blood.
If she had been living, to see herself would have caused her to vomit. She could at least acknowledge that much; she knew that she had already died many deaths, from blood loss or vital injuries or simply shock and pain, but death wouldn't come to her. Not yet. There was some solace in the horror of that chilling truth. Up she stood, considering brushing herself off for only a split second before dismissing the idea. What would be the use? She'd still be bloody.
Xiao Fan tiptoed over the bodies of the slain as she went to follow Zhichao Tingfeng. Citizens had begun to return, led by the town constabulary, providing what care they could to the wounded and dying, or apprehending the remaining criminals. When the crowd saw her, though - staggering absentmindedly, swaying from the warmth which now bloomed in her legs, eyes vacant - they parted swiftly. She could feel their eyes upon her. She could sense every little motion: the furtive glances, the horrified stares, the begrudging admiration.
She even saw one woman take a few steps towards her, raising her hand to garner the ghost's attention, but a man grabbed her around the waist and bodily pulled her out of Xiao Fan's way. Children screamed when they saw her; elders gasped and averted their eyes, or looked on stoically so to seem hardened. No one said anything to her; no one even made a sound to acknowledge her passing save for sounds of terror or disgust. A few people even puked upon seeing the holes in her torso, or smelling her reeking blood.
She felt tears form in tear ducts that didn't work anymore. They poured down her face, lukewarm and without feeling; she found herself suddenly sobbing, faced with the reality of where she was, what she had done. What she had convinced herself to do. She couldn't quite reconcile with it all; looking back now, it felt as if a blur. It felt like she had been driving an ox-cart, and then someone else had taken the reins from her. She had watched while her own urges took control, been a passenger within her own body while someone else made her decisions for her.
As she passed out of town, up towards the manse on the hill, her sobbing grew more intense. Still she felt nothing, an odd detachment from herself; and yet still, it felt good to cry. Something about this release of emotion was cathartic, soothing - even though there was no sadness taking roost within her. She didn't try to consider it; introspection felt moot now, useless and stupid. She was something she couldn't even define; whatever had happened to her would never be undone, she felt. And so why did it matter?
Why did it matter what she was? Why did it matter that the people of Xinmeijin regarded her with fear, or disgust, or even just unease? Why did she care? Iced over like a winter lake, her feelings didn't respond - they didn't want to tell her why, and so made no effort to even try. Zhichao Tingfeng couldn't tell her, either. Even if he could, why would he? Why would he put forth the time and effort to educate her on herself? A person should know themselves pretty well, Xiao Fan thought. They should at least know why they're crying.
When she broke from her reverie, she found herself already beneath the plum trees; the tears had ceased, at least for now. Old blossoms littered the ground; it was a bit too late in the year to see their full beauty. Still, they were calming to see... majestic and elegant, though neither stout nor broad as the practice tree back at Tian Lei. Some part of Xiao Fan wished she could just sit beneath them and rest - not for her body, but for her heart. However, she had more pressing matters to attend to. She only got three feet from the door before Zhichao Tingfeng opened it for her.
Within, the home was dark, save for a few candles burning in what seemed to be the dining room. Xiao Fan would have marveled, had she not been in a fugue. Her own home had been nothing like this one. The interior was lavish: rugs, solid walls of plastered stone, lacquered hardwood rafters and furnishings... It was like another world to the peasant girl within her. At the table, in the dining room, sat the governor.
He smiled grimly at Xiao Fan, beckoning her in and past her mentor. Zhichao Tingfeng said nothing, and his face was placid, completely unreadable. If he was restraining something, anything, then it was a mystery what it could have been. Xiao Fan obliged the governor without delay, though her body moved slowly - continuing to stagger and sway, nearly teetering into a shelf of decorative clay pieces. The governor began to speak as Xiao Fan drew nearer.
"Firstly, my thanks. Zhichao Tingfeng tells me your name is Xiao Zongying. Allow me to introduce myself: I'm Chen Mengyao, the... I suppose you could call me the chief of this village. Officially I'm the governor of this whole region, but my jurisdiction is small... Nevermind. Not important right now." He laughed, though it was mirthless; he had made a joke for her benefit, it seemed, but the reply was dry as sand. Seeing that he wasn't getting anywhere with humor, he cleared his throat.
A jar of wine was produced from beneath the table, the governor placing it upon the table. He gestured to a pair of chairs, and then to a trio of fine wooden drinking-cups. Zhichao Tingfeng made his way over and sat even while Xiao Fan deciphered what Chen Mengyao was telling her to do. She sat as well, beside her mentor, though staying a careful distance from him. She was unsure if he was still upset with her, and didn't want to take the chance that he was.
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"Xiao Zongying, again, thank you for your assistance. I have always put my utmost faith into Zhichao Tingfeng... It's good to see he's got a disciple, now. He always wears himself a bit thin." The governor began to pour the wine as he spoke, not caring to even look at the other two. Xiao Fan figured he was trying to avoid Zhichao Tingfeng's gaze just as much as she was. When the wine was poured, the cups were thrust towards all in attendance. Chen Mengyao drank first, unceremoniously slamming back his cup's worth in a single pull.
"I can see plainly that you are not, ah... You aren't like us. The people of this village... Or Zhichao Tingfeng... Or anyone else, I should think. I can't remark upon the heavens' decisions regarding your fate, but I... am glad you were here today. Many more of my people would have died without you." His face was solemn now. Xiao Fan nodded to him, still saying nothing. In her place, Zhichao Tingfeng continued what the governor had been saying.
"He's right, Xiao Zongying. You did well today - far better than I would have ever thought. There is a matter of self-restraint to be discussed, but... In the end, more people lived today than would have if you hadn't shown up." He took a swig from his own cup now, not clearing it like the governor had, but still enough to make his lips wrinkle. He continued, clearing his throat before he did. "I hope that now you understand the weight of what I told you when we first met. The ability to kill with one's own hands is not a blessing; it is a burden."
His eyes fell to her cup; she took the hint, taking it in the only hand that was still in one piece, and draining it in a second flat. It was better than she was expecting; she hadn't even thought she'd be able to taste it. Instead, however, it was rich and deep - strong, layered, sweet in some ways, dry in others. Her tongue rolled around her mouth as she tried to savour every last drop she had been given.
Chen Mengyao laughed to himself, only a moment or two of chuckling. He pushed the entire jar of wine over towards Xiao Fan, giving her a permissive nod. "Seems you like the stuff; good. I wanted to reward you somehow... And Zhichao Tingfeng tells me you've got an appetite, hm? Then here: at the very least, let us host you tonight, and throw a great feast in your honor. We can see about washing your clothes, too. And, ah..." His momentary good spirit dwindled before her eyes, face now downcast.
"Zhichao Tingfeng also told me... Told me about your wife. About Tang Shun. Slavers like him have been harassing us as well, lately, though... Not to the point of what happened to Er Xin. Not to the point of anything like what happened to you and your wife. I'm... My condolences, Xiao Zongying. I will do everything in my power to help you track him down." Xiao Fan may have been checked out mentally before now, too focused on the wine, but now she was awake. She perked up, listening intently, eyes now wide as they could go.
It took ten whole seconds of awkward silence for her to realize they were waiting for her response. She cleared her throat, giving a quick, apologetic nod, then made her remark. "Uh, thank you, shushu. I am only glad that I was able to save your people... I..." She trailed off as a new internal conflict arose. She wanted to be gracious and humble; she wanted to tell him his gift was unnecessary, so that he'd redouble his insistence. It was the proper back-and-forth of these things.
She couldn't bring herself to say it, though - the prospect of a feast in her honor, one that would surely be crammed full of food she could indulge in? That was too juicy to pass up, literally and otherwise. She coughed, just to make some kind of sound, going to swig straight from the wine jar. "...I would be happy to accept your hospitality. I, uh... my sifu was correct, ha-ha. I do get pretty hungry... Oh! Oh, oh, and of course, I'm... I'm very humbled and grateful for your offer of assistance. I miss my wife dearly."
It didn't disgust her until moments later; what she had said, her seeming to have forgotten completely about her wife? Seeing her and addressing the topic of her as an afterthought, with food taking precedence? She wished she could drown herself in this jar of wine. She did her best to, in fact - burying her face into the open mouth of it as far as she could, taking swallow after swallow. She showed no signs of letting up... and, since a dead woman had been slobbering on the mouth of the jar, Chen Mengyao didn't seem to want it back.
Free jar of wine. That was part of her reward, surely.
When she had finished the wine, having been chugging it greedily in the silence that accompanied such a display, she took another swing at what she had said. "Ah... Of course I am very worried about my wife, shushu. She's... She's my everything. I'm unsure if you've ever been married, but nothing in this world is more valuable to me. Any information at all would be a-" She stopped speaking once she noticed Zhichao Tingfeng's raised hand, palm towards her. He had probably been gesturing to her for a few seconds, while she rambled on and disregarded him.
When she had shut up, Zhichao Tingfeng spoke in her place. "Yes, meimei, thank you... You really got disoriented by that fighting, didn't you? You're rambling, and you seem like you're having trouble focusing. Here: go into the governor's kitchen and help yourself to his wine. I'll pay for whatever you drink; just have your fill. He and I have some things to discuss..." And then a return of the sly smile she had come to associate with her sifu. That eased her mind a bit, knowing that he was done with such uptight social convention. It had never suited her anyways.
She stood and exited; Chen Mengyao gestured with his right hand towards the door to his pantry, and she followed directions without a hint of hesitance. As she shambled across the hardwood floor, feet thudding on the planks as she went, she considered what her master had said. 'Really got disoriented', eh? Well... He wasn't wrong, to be fair. She didn't feel physical exhaustion, it was true, but mentally she was strained. Fighting against herself, and losing? It had taken a lot out of her.
Into the pantry she stumbled, tripping over her own feet and toppling into the wall. She tried to recover by making as if she had been leaning against it; no one was there to see, but it made her feel a little less shameful. Looking around the pantry, her tongue set to action nearly immediately. It pressed against the ivory wall of her teeth, running along enamel, trying to press out and through, like a prisoner in a cell of white bricks. Everything in the governor's pantry looked delicious.
Dried and cured meats hung from strings tied to the rafters; a basket of fresh eggs lay on a shelf, beside dried fruits, a smoked fish, and enough herbs and veg to make a bed with. It was tantalizing, and she nearly leapt straight for the shelves of food... but her eyes spotted her reason for coming here. In the back corner, beside a hutch for cooking, sat a collection of wine jars. More than Xiao Fan had ever seen in a single place, in a single time... All full, presumably. Zhichao Tingfeng had given her permission to drink her fill, maybe even all of them. She felt a dryness in her throat only rivaled by the meats around her.
Her feet made hurried pace over to the wine stock; she dropped to the floor, simply letting her legs drop out from under her, if only to get there faster. As soon as she was sprawled out in some way that could approximate a casual seat against the wall, she grabbed for the first jar. The string and lid were thrown aside... The liquid within was cool, and just as sweet and complex as the one she had drank at the table. It was gorgeous; it made her think of everything good she had ever had in her life.
She thought of the rice field... Her thin plank shack... Her wife. She nearly admonished herself for worrying about her wife as often as she did; surely Zhang Daiyu was fine, right? Momentary consideration reminder her that no, her wife had been taken by slavers. Slavers who had killed Xiao Fan and burnt her home to the ground. Of course she wasn't fine... Xiao Fan needed to find her as soon as possible. So, then, she decided while she glugged down that first jar.
She would stay for the feast, meet some of the townsfolk to try and make amends, and then go back to Tian Lei to train. She wouldn't let Tang Shun get away... Or let anything distract her anymore. Every moment she spent apart from Zhang Daiyu was a moment she could be getting tortured, or beaten, or humiliated. Every second Xiao Fan wasted... was a second further and further from the love of her life. The dead woman threw the now-empty wine jar at a wall; it exploded into pieces with an ear-splitting sound. Chen Mengyao exclaimed something; Zhichao Tingfeng simply laughed.
The next jar of wine went down easier than the first, or the second. Thinking about her wife... Thinking about what a fucking waste she was being, diverting her search time to drink wine in some stranger's pantry... It made her need the wine all the more. She only wished she could still get drunk. At the very least, she could try.