Làng Wū Yáo was definitely certain he couldn't eat this much. After every performance, he was offered enough food to feed him for a week. It felt like such a waste every time. Dumplings, noodles, rice, roasted chicken, his favorite roasted tilapia, an entire pot of green tea. The performances did require a lot of qi and movement to stay alive, and they were rather frequent, but there was still too much food. He didn't like the notion of wasted food, having to eat whatever he could when performing for the taverns. The palace was never short on food, but he still never wanted to waste it.

A month had passed since he'd been returned to the palace. The songbird's life was starting to feel normal again. Singing, performances, lots of food, getting pushed uncomfortably into the wall when Cháo Fēng wanted to remind him that he shouldn't leave. Every so often, a new hair ornament would show up on the dresser. Each one was always decorated by some kind of bird or flower. He really didn't need that many.

He downed the last of the tea, staring at the dumplings still warm in the bowl. Standing up, he slung the white pipa over his shoulder and wrapped two dumplings into cloth. Sliding open the door, he spotted the two familiar guards that stood near his doorway at night. Wěi, the shorter, heavyset guard, and Fāng, the tall stringbean. They were the first ones to talk to him when he returned and the only ones who seemed to acknowledge him beyond a title. They stood impossibly still at the end of the hallway as usual. He handed each a dumpling before leaning against the wall with the white pipa in hand.

He'd come to know the pair as they often stood near his door gossipping. It was usually chatter about who was visiting that day or what was going on inside town. It was Làng's only connection with the outside world. There was still a part of him that longed for whatever was missing, but each time he thought about it, all he found was pain. That two year gap was nothing but trouble and that Shāng Bù Huàn was to blame for all of this.

Right...?

He had to admit part of him was curious about Shāng Bù Huàn, but any question he asked was always answered with "Villain!" and "He's absolutely horrible!" It didn't tell him anything. The last time he'd even come close to asking the princess, she diverted by insisting he play a song or shoving more food at him that he couldn't actually eat. Perhaps it was best to abandon the questions as they seemed to get absolutely nowhere.

"Something's on your mind again, isn't it?" Wěi questioned between bites.

"I don't like food to go to waste," Làng evaded the question. The answer was always the same when he handed the pair something from his own dinner table. He always ate alone, staring at the excessive amount of food and ignoring the feeling that someone was trying to talk to him. That silent voice needed to go away.

He hated being alone before as the voice would try to talk to him, but now it just felt lonely. Perhaps he still missed the time he spent with Mù Tiān Mìng when he was still employed by the taverns. But she was working with Shāng Bù Huàn, wasn't she? That was what the princess told him. He never felt any malice from her, and she was easily the only friend he'd ever had. Could she really be evil?

The two guards didn't quite fall into the friend category, though they certainly didn't fall into the malice category either. They had shown him kindness, but it always felt slightly shallow. Làng held a high position as the Court Virtuoso, and the guards were told to respect that position highly else face Cháo Fēng's wrath. He didn't have any royal blood in him, though he was convinced that would be tainted with evil. He never felt like he was anything important either, just a sharpened blade with a cursed supernatural voice.

Perhaps he could ask the pair that stood faithfully at his door something, but he never felt like he could open up, not like he could with Mù. There was so much still rattling around in his mind, so much confusion about Shāng Bù Huàn and the missing two years of his life. They probably haven't heard much more than the others. The pair went into town every so often, but all they seemed to do was eat at the local tavern and check out women.

He plucked a few notes of the white pipa, the strings still not feeling natural on his fingers. He wanted the red one back, the one that always felt like it played the perfect note.

"Has…" Làng stared at the white pipa. If he asked, would it come back to the princess? Perhaps it was best to stay silent and come to terms with never getting his precious pipa back. "Nevermind. It's nothing." He pushed off the wall, slinging the pipa back on his shoulder.

Wěi frowned. "Well we'll be here all night if you change your mind."

Làng stopped a few steps down the hallway, pausing for a moment before turning and coming back. Perhaps he could ask. They were the only people actually kind to him in this cage. "Between us."

"Absolutely," Fāng nodded. "No one has to know anything about our conversation."

"Has…" Làng paused a moment. No one else was around, no other prying ears. Aside from the crickets, no other sounds rang out in the early night hours. No footsteps, no idle conversations, no guards shifting their weight nearby. "Has there been any sign of Shāng Bù Huàn?"

Wěi nearly choked on the last of his dumpling. "T-that villain?"

Làng frowned. That was about the answer he expected.

"You're not concerned he'll come after you, are you?" Fāng questioned.

Now there was the answer Làng didn't expect.

"I mean you are technically a supernatural blade and all, or so I hear," Fāng stumbled over his words. "A-and there are rumors he was somehow related to your disappearance. And well that villain likes to steal them, so-"

"Fāng!" Wěi punched him in the arm. "The Court Virtuoso is a person, not a sword."

"He is not wrong," Làng confirmed. "I am the princess's supernatural blade. I am her property." Shāng had stolen him before because of this, to take everything away from him. But a person couldn't be sealed inside the Sorcerous Sword Index, so the villain had discarded him off a cliff instead. Or so Làng had been repeatedly told to a point he was starting to believe it true.

Wěi pursed his lips. He didn't like the idea that the Virtuoso was property. He was a person.

Làng stared at the white pipa in his hands. "Shāng Bù Huàn. I am told he stole something of mine, a red pipa I want returned."

"He stole your pipa?" Fāng questioned. "Was it supernatural?"

Làng shook his head. "Just an old, worn red pipa. I have had it for so long, and it never failed to play the perfect notes. Always finely tuned and never stiff like this one." Even after a month, the white pipa just didn't feel right in his hands.

"I didn't think he'd stoop so low as to steal a pipa," Wěi frowned. "The crimes that man has committed are just getting worse and worse."

"I hear he stole a person once!" Fāng exclaimed.

"How does anyone steal a person?" Wěi stared at him incredulously.

Fairly easily, apparently, Làng thought to himself. The truth about his disappearance hadn't really spread around the guard yet, and Làng wasn't one to speak of it anyway. He didn't really understand it. There were simply too many scrambled pieces of information that seemed more mixed up than the thoughts in his head.

"Who knows, but if anyone would do it, it's that villain!" Fāng insisted. "And if someone stoops low enough to steal someone's pipa, then what stops him from stealing a person?"

Làng knew that happened to him. At the same time.

Wěi frowned. "Well I suppose you have a point there. Regardless."

"Regardless," Fāng turned back to Làng. "There's been nothing about that villain lately. Not a peep. It's likely he's not even in the area. But we'll keep an ear out for you and let you know what we hear. If anything, I bet Xiào Kuáng Juàn can get it back from that villain. He'll stop Shāng Bù Huàn if he ever shows up!"

Something told Làng that wasn't necessarily going to play out that way.

"If we hear anything about your pipa, we'll let you know right away," Wěi nodded.

"Thank you." If there was any chance of getting it back, Làng wanted to take it. "If you would… Could you have more tea sent to my room? There is still too much food, but tea would be nice." He considered speaking to Xiào concerning the matter, but Làng didn't necessarily like conversing with that man. He was sneaky and conniving, hiding something at every moment of the day. He didn't trust the sneaky fox to actually be willing to retrieve it for him unless there was some kind of gain. He'd already walked over Làng to get his position and wasn't afraid to admit it.

"Hey you two, get back to work!" a higher ranking guard fussed. Wěi and Fāng quickly tensed up.

"It was my fault," Làng admitted. "I simply wanted to know if they had seen any signs of my red pipa on their last trip outside. I'll be on my way." He left out the questions about Shāng Bù Huàn. He didn't need it getting out that he still asked about that villain again. Perhaps this would be the last time he did. It seemed hopeless that he'd ever get that pipa back.

Perhaps he would give Shāng a piece of his mind if he ever encountered that man. Hopefully not. Làng could certainly hold his own in a fight, but against a man who could strike him with a sorcerous blade then throw him off a cliff? He'd probably be pushing his luck a bit.

"Hardly a problem, Court Virtuoso," the higher ranking guard stepped to the side as Làng passed him. "If there's anything we can do for you, please don't hesitate to ask."

"I'm fine." Something about him just irked Làng. There was evil in his heart, the type that would probably beat his subordinates if that meant a higher promotion. Just the sort to completely idolize Xiào as much of the people here did. That arrogance in his steps, the air of superiority that laced his words even when shallowly showing respect to Làng's position.

But what could Làng truly do? He belonged to Princess Evil herself. Everyone else aside from Xiào seemed to pale in comparison.

"I'll be in the zen garden if the princess demands my presence." Perhaps he could play there for a bit and not think of things like Shāng Bù Huàn and the evil that permeated the palace grounds.

…

Author's musings

Poor Lang. He's really struggling with this memory gap, even as the sword's truth becomes his own.

Meaning of the guard names:

Wěi – big/great

Fāng – virtue