Shāng Bù Huàn had finally lost them, but he wasn't quite out of the woods yet. Literally and figuratively. Làng Wū Yáo was still unconscious on his shoulder, plagued by something that caused him pain immense enough that he'd fallen unconscious. Shāng still had no idea what sword had been used on him or where it was. It was still possible that whatever he had tucked in his belt was the key to fixing all this and getting Làng back to his normal healthy self.

Shāng traveled some ways away from the palace to a small clearing within the forest. "Tiān Mìng!" he announced his arrival. "Gather some blankets and furs!"

Mù Tiān Mìng had been sitting by the fire, restringing the guqin as she plotted out other potential locations as their next target. She hadn't expected the urgent request, quickly setting the guqin aside to gather some furs. She turned, dropping the fur blanket immediately seeing that it was not Shāng who needed the blanket but a familiar redheaded white-clad musician slung over his shoulders. "B… Bù Huàn! Is that…?!"

"It is. It's truly him," Shāng nodded, carefully setting Làng down on the furs. "The Hunting Fox staged everything then did something to him. I think it was a sword, but I have no idea which. He's had his memories and resolve stolen from him. When he encountered me at the palace, he was in immense pain and barely able to breathe. The pain knocked him out but not before he asked for my help."

Mù knit her brow together. He looked just like that lost songbird with no resolve he once was. She pulled the furs over him, placing a hand on his shoulder to heal him with some qi. His breathing soon settled, no longer sounding strained. "To think he'd been alive this whole time, suffering at the palace and we weren't even aware."

"That Hunting Fox..." Shāng placed the white pipa next to Làng. "He's more conniving than I expected him to be."

"With the way Lián Měi had acted at the bridge, I'd agree. He twisted her desires to protect the shrine into something so evil she was willing to kill people." She placed a gentle hand on Làng's shoulder. She still could recall the search for him in the ravine, choking back tears and emotions as she dragged Shāng up the mountain to Làng's home. They had held a memorial for Làng and Líng Yá, swearing to never forget what had happened and to carry on the work they had done together.

"I spoke to Làng briefly before he got worse and we were forced to flee," Shāng said. "He'd been at the palace for some time, long enough for Xiào Kuáng Juàn to plant false stories and ideas in his head. He was convinced I had come there to kill him after failing to do so at the cliffs. He looked like he would've fought me if it hadn't been for that pain."

"That Fox sure knows how to twist the truth," Mù frowned.

"I'm not sure what convinced him that I wasn't," Shāng admitted.

Mù stood up, glancing at Làng for a moment almost afraid that he'd be whisked away in the wind like a faded memory. "There is that sense of his, that strong sense of good and evil, but if he has reverted back to that state somehow, it would have to take something within him to change his mind. When we were still getting to know each other, I had told him the taverns would be dangerous. He looked like he knew it, but he refused to believe it."

"Just like how something within him drove him to join us two years ago," Shāng understood. "Perhaps just like then, he knew something was wrong with his current situation."

"There must be a part of him that still remembers," Mù reasoned. "Something deep within his soul. He must be fighting against whatever this sword did to him. Seeing you may have triggered some memories he didn't understand. I can't imagine what struggle he's dealing with right now. It must be awful."

"I could see it written on his face at the palace," Shāng shook his head. He turned, hearing sounds in the forest. They caught up to them more quickly than he expected. "We should go." He threw water over the fire, quickly scooping Làng and the pipa up and disappearing into the forest with Mù.

….

Làng squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before drawing a hand to his head. He heard a rustling breeze and a crackling fire, sounds that didn't make sense in his mind. With all the commotion, he was certain that Shāng had fallen, and he was back in his room in the palace or perhaps thrown into a dungeon somewhere. He opened his eyes, barely able to focus on the trees towering overhead.

"Get some rest, Wū Yáo," Mù knelt next to him. "You're safe here with us. We've managed to ditch the imperial search parties."

"Tiān Mìng?" He stared up at her.

"Well I'm glad you haven't forgotten me," Mù smiled. "Bù Huàn told me about your missing memory and what happened at the palace."

"I remember everything up to about two years ago," Làng admitted, feeling at ease around her. She was working with Shāng, that much he knew, but Làng had never once felt evil from her. Even when they dueled in song, he still never felt malice. Looking at her once again confirmed everything he felt and knew to be true. "Then there's a gap. Nothing. It's blank."

"Two years ago is when you fled the palace and came with us," Shāng recalled. "We fought and you realized that we weren't as evil as you were told. You made a choice to turn against the empire."

That matched up with everything he had been told, but the details he felt were wrong. "They said you had stolen me from the palace, struck me with the Night of Mourning to turn me into your battle blade for two years. Using and abusing my sorcerous voice for villainy against the people of Xī Yōu. The pain I have been feeling is my mind fighting against the scars it caused."

Shāng choked on his tea. "They said what?!"

Mù could barely believe what he'd been told. "Wū Yáo. The Night of Mourning can turn someone into a mindless puppet, but the effects are temporary. They last until you fall unconscious or are struck with the sword again. Certainly not something that would last years and leave scars. A mark might show up to indicate any controlling sword's effects, but afterward, it's gone."

Làng rubbed at his face, his mind still feeling jumbled and fuzzy. "The story felt off when I heard it. Xiào told me he sealed my memories of it so I wouldn't be pained by what I had witnessed."

"I don't think that man has ever spoken a truthful word," Shāng frowned.

"There is evil that seeps into his very core," Làng agreed. "There was a part of me that believed him. A part that believed that someone who had gone to great lengths to return me home would give me an honest answer."

"What a noble thing for him to do," Mù commented sarcastically.

Làng pushed himself up, feeling the pain of a recent attack pull at his body, It always left him feeling like he'd been punched in the chest, particularly this past week where the attacks had been so frequent. But it felt less so than normal. They had healed him, hadn't they? "You mentioned a mark of a sword." He gingerly turned, shifting his white robes off his shoulders, pulling his long hair to the side, and showing them the massive mark that spanned his entire back, shoulder to shoulder.

"That has to be the biggest mark I've seen," Mù stared at it. "Does it hurt?"

Làng shook his head. "I didn't even know it was there until a few days ago. I overheard Xiào and the princess speaking. Yelling mostly on the princess's behalf. He said there were side effects of a sword called the Resonant Memory. It seals my memories to a point and my attempts to remember are the cause of the pain I have been feeling. The true reason likely, not everything I'd been told for the last two months. I must be struck with the sword along this mark to reverse the effects."

So that was the true power of the Resonant Memory. It pained her to think her reasoning was right, that the empire was using it on musicians. This musician. "Even in this state you still understood the truth," Mù observed.

"I started remembering the mountains," Làng admitted, pulling his robe back over his shoulders. "I recalled voices crying out for me. They knew me and I-" He doubled over. Each time he tried to recall what happened on those mountains, the pain struck him right through the heart. He grasped his robes tightly, trying to calm his mind and his breathing. "If this keeps up, I will lose everything. Xiào said that the more I fight this sword, even unconsciously, the more my own self will be crushed. There is something important in that two year gap that I cannot lose. I need to know what it is. I want this more than anything I can recall wanting, even though I should not desire such things."

Mù placed a hand on his shoulder. She could feel him shaking as he struggled to overcome the sword's effects. "We won't let that happen. We'll find the Resonant Memory and help you be you again. The one with wants and desires and resolve. The one we call our dear friend."

Shāng frowned. They were working against time. The longer this kept up, the more it risked Làng's life and his identity. If only he had listened to Làng about Lián Měi, though nothing would've told him it would come to this. But that was the past. He couldn't change what happened. Now he had a chance to fix it so they had a future.

Làng stared at the blankets and tangled white robes as his heart finally felt like it was stabilizing again. "The sword from the palace…."

Shāng shook his head. "It's a fake. Just a regular old sword disguised to look like a sorcerous one. The whole thing was a setup."

"My last chance…" Làng gripped his robes tightly.

"We'll find it," Shāng assured him. "Whatever it takes, we'll get your memories and resolve back."