Xie Yi-jun

2004 years after The Long Night

Sanlín City

“What is the last thing you remember?”

Xie Yi-jun didn’t respond for a while. He didn’t trust his voice not to break, so instead he clutched the cup of tea in his hands, slowly sipping at the bitter liquid as the Master in front of him began speaking once more.

“My name is Hao Xue-feng, I am one of the Masters at Jingshén.”

Yi-jun couldn’t stop himself from blurting out, “I don’t know what that is.”

Master Hao only nodded, “I understand.”

Yi-jun watched as the man stood up to light the fire at the corner of the room, the flames bursting to life as the old Master looked into the coals.

“Our residence is just a few days from here, to the East. Between The Spirit Orchard and South Jiezhî.”

“The Spirit Orchard?” Yi-jun sat his cup down, “It’s too dangerous to live there, what of the ghosts?”

Master Hao stared down at the fire for a few more moments, slowly returning to the seat across the table from Yi-jun.

His expression gave nothing away as he said, “An agreement was made between those in Riyèrì and Lêung Shãn, to build a settlement there, for less-fortunate children to come and study cultivation. Over time, the spirits were driven out.”

Yi-jun knew nothing of those in power in Riyèrì anymore. He knew nothing of this strange city he was in. And Lêung Shãn? Lêung Shãn was still starving and suffering through the deadly effects of The Long Night when he had been King.

That was centuries ago… a lot must have changed.

Yi-jun sat up, his eyes widening suddenly as he thought of something.

“Master…” he said, “Who watches over Hêi’àn City today?”

The old man seemed to frown ever so slightly, and Xie Yi-jun began to feel a creeping sense of dread rising in his chest, as it seemed like the Master didn’t want to answer.

“Please,” Yi-jun said again. “I must know what happened after the war.”

Even if everyone I’ve ever loved is gone...

Finally, the man replied.

“Hêi’àn City was destroyed seven hundred centuries ago, on the final day of the war. It is now called The Hêi’àn Hills. The obsidian melted back into the earth, forming great mountains as high as the clouds. At the time, Meng Bai found a way to erupt Hông Zhuí. It killed many people, including Hêi’àn City and the soldiers from Wúmeng. Meng Bai’s own forces were killed then as well, and he and his followers returned to the ruins near The Roaran Stronghold. Meng Bai and his descendants have ruled the Huichâng province since then. Xie Xingyue; Meng Bai’s descendent, rules today. As vindictive as his family’s patriarch, but thankfully nowhere near as ambitious. He’s remained mostly silent for the duration of his rule…”

Xie Yi-jun only realized he was crying, when Master Hao handed him a handkerchief.

“I don’t mean to overwhelm you,” the man said softly. “But perhaps it is better that you know now rather than later.”

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Yi-jun was having trouble breathing as he wiped his eyes. His throat had closed off, body shaking as he recalled his home. The beautiful age-old cathedrals and staircases that led people to and from the village underneath.

All gone, reduced to nothing more than a war-time landmark. His people, the people he’d sworn to protect to his dying breath, all of them buried under acres of melted glass-

“Inhale deeply, Yi-jun…” the man said, and he realised it was because Master Hao was trying to balance his energy, eyes closed tight.

Xie Yi-jun tried to force himself to breathe, but it was like breathing in water. Not even the warmth of the energy he was receiving from the old master could scratch the surface of his pain. He felt plucked out of the universe and placed in a different one, where nothing worked right and he wasn’t really alive.

If only Songcai were here... he thought, which of course sent another burst of tears to his eyes.

Songcai was supposed to be here. He was supposed to wake me after Su Lan delivered my message. Instead, I closed my eyes to a forest and woke up in the arms of a stranger…

Yi-jun stopped crying for a second as his mind drifted back to the boy he’d first seen when he’d woken up. Confused and distressed by the strange city that was now surrounding him, Yi-jun had almost felt his flames appear, simply by instinct, yet all his fear had melted away as easy as snow when he felt that boy’s hand on his face.

For a few precious, dizzying seconds, Yi-jun thought Songcai was the one who was holding him, the one who was sending energy into his shivering body. He was safe, he was home. Songcai really had returned for him, and everything would be okay…

That dream ended the moment the boy spoke.

His voice was young, quiet. Yi-jun was speechless, lying on the ground, as the face of his lover gradually morphed into that of someone he didn’t know.

Now, he wished more than anything that it truly had been Songcai. Able to heal all his hurts, remind him who he was-

Recalling what the townspeople in the square had whispered amongst themselves earlier, Yi-jun couldn’t bear the thought that perhaps they were right. Was that boy truly his Songcai? Or, at least his soul, if only a portion of it?

It might explain their well-matched energy, but other than that brief moment of connection, Yi-jun felt nothing for the boy except unease.

Su Lan had definitely said that only his lover could wake him from the curse. That meant only Songcai. He must have finally reincarnated after dying in Hêi’àn City. Dying there, without him…

“It’s okay, Yi-jun.” Master Hao said gently.

The young King shook his head, embarrassed but unable to stop the sobs that escaped his throat, the tears that stung his eyes.

“It’s not okay.” he cried, “I should have died with them… I should have died with him!”

Master Hao waited until Yi-jun’s tears had dried, until the man looked and felt more numb than the day his mother had passed away. The master sat back in his chair and opened his eyes, feeling from Yi-jun that he wanted to talk but was unsure what to say.

“What was he like?” Master Hao said.

Yi-jun heard himself mumble, “Who?”

A soft smile lifted the corners of the Master’s mouth as he responded; “Jin Songcai.”

Hearing that, Yi-jun felt his heart twist. And yet the name itself didn’t make him sad. He had only love in his heart for Jin-cai. Besides, to him it had only been a few weeks since they’d parted.

“If it’s too painful-”

Yi-jun shook his head. “No, I just don’t know what to say about him. How could I explain what he was like to someone that has never heard his voice, or seen the color of his soul?”

Master Hao chuckled, “I believe you just did.”

Yi-jun looked down at the teacup he’d sat on the table and stared at it until it stopped steaming. He was suddenly reminded of the last time he’d been with Songcai and their words to each other. The day they’d met in the physician’s tent near the outskirts of Hêi’àn City, right on the front lines...

It was before Yi-jun had been abducted from the scouting mission. He still felt the anger and panic he felt from the cloth bag coming down over his head, then the magic that had knocked him out.

Many days later he was being pulled behind a weapon’s cart, hands tied together with some kind of material that weakened his powers. When he saw they were in the middle of Xi Qiáng Forest, Yi-jun knew it must be Meng Bai. His forces had broken through the gates of Hêi’àn City and were seen in battlements all throughout northern Riyèrì, of course those in Wúmeng were not happy about that, which is why they had been sending more and more soldiers to aid Yi-jun.

All of this seemed like yesterday to him. As he watched his reflection ripple in the cup with every little movement of his feet against the ground, every slight breath, the King made a silent wish to this strange universe he was trapped in.

Yi-jun closed his eyes. Let it be that Jin Songcai remembered his promise to me. Let it be that he didn’t suffer… please.