Xie Bian's breath stuttered inside his chest.
Fan Wujiu was talking in an abstract sense but what Xie Bian heard was: You. No one will give up a life of privilege for you.
He didn't know why that made his nose itch. He didn't know Wei Xiangsi; he felt nothing for him except a vague sense of pity and guilt over lying to him.
Maybe it was the sheer callousness of the sentiment. As if Fan Wujiu was making a statement about the two of them. Except, what did either of them have, other than a dusty room in Yanluo's crumbling palace?
"You're cruel," Xie Bian said, still averting his eyes. "I don't know if it's in your nature or if I bring it out in you..."
Somehow that was worse. Xie Bian didn't feel like talking anymore.
Fan Wujiu let go of his throat and stepped away, whatever spell had woven its dark way around them suddenly broken.
"I'm going out," he announced, already at the door.
Xie Bian snorted in derision, gaze fixed on the open window, it was a moonless, starless night. Even outside of Youdu, it seemed he carried the night with him whenever he went.
"You always leave, instead of confronting whatever your problem with me is."
Fan Wujiu paused on the doorway. "Confronting it wouldn't solve anything." His voice became distant, lost in some memory that he wouldn't share with Xie Bian.
He left, closing the door with a soft thud. Fan Wujiu's anger burned up quickly, leaving only a barren, cold wasteland behind and Xie Bian alone with his thoughts and his confusion. He knew there was something Fan Wujiu was keeping from him, on purpose.
It made something inside his chest rattle like a trapped animal wanting to get out. He didn't know why it hurt him so much that Fan Wujiu didn't like him, that he didn't trust him. Xie Bian didn't ask to become a General, it was a responsibility Yanluo shoved on him without asking for his input.
He was doing the best he could.
It was becoming commonplace for him to turn to Fu Shulin whenever he was alone and feeling sorry for himself.
He could not even fool himself as he thumbed through the book's pages that he was doing it as research on Tao Yuanming, or the like. In a way, Xie Bian felt as if Fu Shulin could understand him.
Their loneliness had the same crooked shape.
---
At the moment, Fu Shulin wasn't feeling lonely at all. The boy could scarcely remember being so happy as he was training under Yao Yan's unorthodox tutelage, and helping An Mu around the inn in his free time.
Yao Yan was eclectic in his teachings: he had Fu Shulin studying priceless cultivation manuals one moment, drawing talismans the next, and collecting herbs to refine pills the next.
"It's important for a cultivator to be well-rounded. Those stuffy sword cultivators in the major sects think they're above it, but they're wrong. You can't understand the Dao without knowing how everything is connected. You are stronger for knowing the shape of the talismans you use by heart, you are more exact by picking the herbs for your own pills, weighting the ingredients and refining them yourself."
Fu Shulin listened diligently and worked tirelessly.
His calligraphy was sloppy, and he was ashamed to admit he only knew a few characters, but Yao Yan was patient with him, and never belittled him. Under his reassuring good humor, Fu Shulin let go of his insecurities and threw himself wholeheartedly into learning, never fearing a setback.
He took meridian strengthening pills every morning, worked on his martial arts, and then dedicated time to meditating with the aim of refining his spiritual energy.
According to Yao Yan: "Just like your talismans and the pills, you need to understand your spiritual energy before you can use it. Gaze deep into your spiritual sea, feel its shape, it's part of you. It's just another part of your body, in time it will be as easy for you to use it as your arms or legs."
His calm voice was lulling, allowing Fu Shulin to sink deeper into meditation. Hours would pass without him even realizing. When he snapped to attention he felt so energized and connected to his own body that it was as if his skin vibrated.
Now whenever he attempted to call upon his spiritual energy he felt it rushing through his body like a great wave. Yao Yan asked him to perform an air rending kick and to both their surprise Fu Shulin managed to fell a tree.
He couldn't quite skip clean across the lake but now he could make it halfway before losing hold on his spiritual energy and sinking under the surface.
"You're getting better," Yao Yan screamed from the lake's margin hands cupped around his mouth. "A little further each day."
When he helped An Mu in the kitchen, even she couldn't help praising Yao Yan. "I didn't put much stock on his posturing at first, but that shifu of yours is the real deal, uh?"
"Shifu is the best," Fu Shulin said, grinning so wide his cheek hurt while drying the bowls An Mu handed him.
His cultivation was progressing by leaps and bounds, but it wasn't only that, Fu Shulin was truly happy. He loved living in the inn, having An Mu and Yao Yan around, the quiet life suited him just fine.
Sometimes he would catch himself thinking that maybe it would be alright if he never joined any sect and just became a wandering cultivator like Yao Yan. They could travel all over Jianghu, helping people, surviving on their donations, and then after a while, they could return to the inn to tell An Mu all about their adventures.
These fantasies of the future filled him with shame too. He worried what his Shifu would think about his lack of ambition. What his parents would say if they could hear his thoughts.
In any case, now he thought that it wouldn't be so bad if he tried to join Jade Dragon Manor when the trials came up, but failed. There was another life stretching ahead of him
His idyllic days were numbered, however. Less than a year after Yao Yan's arrival at the inn, a group of unusual guests came stomping through the inn's doors.