Làng Wū Yáo wasn't sure where they were headed as they attempted to dodge the imperial search parties. The princess wanted him back badly and everything underneath the pain and confusion screamed out against returning. And if he was returned, what would happen to the only two people who wanted to help him?

He stared blankly at the snow-covered path before him. He felt like whatever was still left in that two year gap was fading away. He felt empty. Perhaps he would lose everything at this rate. He stopped suddenly, turning. It felt like someone was trying to call out to him again but the words never reached him.

"Wū Yáo? Is something wrong?" Mù Tiān Mìng called out to him. "Do you hear a search party?"

Làng turned, peering up at his companions before peering back down the mountainside. No one was there but the three of them. They hadn't passed any travelers or villages for some time. All he heard was the birds, a stream babbling under the ice, creatures scampering in the bushes.

He had spoken to Mù before, back when he was still singing at the taverns. He felt at ease around her, something he still recalled. It happened before the two year gap, a time when everything was still clear.

"We're not being followed, are we?" Shāng Bù Huàn worried.

Làng shook his head, turning back to his companions. How was he supposed to understand what he was hearing? He followed them some more before he finally spoke. "Tiān Mìng, I feel a voice trying to call out to me. That is what I am hearing."

Mù turned as he spoke. "Like the one you said you had heard when you were alone?"

Làng shook his head. "When I think I hear it, it's gone, just out of reach like that two year gap. I have been feeling it behind me for the past two months but not once have I ever heard any words. It's like a faded voice, a feeling."

Mù placed a hand on his shoulder. "That might be Líng Yá trying to reach you."

"Líng Yá?" Làng didn't recognize the name, though he had heard Shāng mention it before.

Mù nodded. "Two years ago, you gained your own resolve and that voice you heard speaking to you when you were alone became Líng Yá, your talking red pipa. You had placed your feelings and your own sorcerous power into your pipa so strongly that it gave him life."

Làng couldn't understand how a pipa could talk, but something felt familiar about it. He had been desperately trying to retrieve his red pipa for the past two months, feeling that there was something important that he'd understand if he found it. All paths had led to it never returning.

He placed a hand on his chest, worried that the pain would return. Any more of it, and he could lose whatever was locked away behind the sword's scar. "They said you had stolen the pipa from me, Shāng. That you took it and sealed it away in the Sorcerous Sword Index."

"Of course they did," Shāng snorted. "When we went searching for you after you fell, we found it badly damaged. We left it up here in the mountains as a memorial." He frowned, the memory of that travel tearing at his heart.

No one who wanted to kill him would leave a memorial for him, not that Làng still believed they had any intention of doing that anymore. Whatever happened within those two years had made him worthy of a memorial. His confused mind still couldn't understand how that would even come to be. He was just a sorcerous blade, but they treated him like a friend.

"Aside from throwing off the imperial search parties, we're heading up here to retrieve it," Shāng added. "That white pipa just doesn't seem like you."

"I don't like it," Làng confirmed. The white pipa never felt right in his hands. He wanted the red one, and there was a wash of relief knowing that it hadn't been sealed or destroyed. Even if it started talking, it was still his.

As they traveled further up the mountain, Làng realized where they were. He knew this place well, the mountains where he grew up. His mother turned him into a highly refined blade, training his hearing, his singing, and his battle skills. He hadn't returned since his mother had died. Or had he?

He placed a hand on his head. Remembering right now was a bad idea.

The place hadn't changed much since he'd left, though more snow from years of neglect had piled up. The cavern where he had trained, the fire pit on the cliffside covered in snow and icicles, the hut with a red pipa leaned against it half covered in snow.

The red pipa! There it was.

Làng pushed forward, dropping the white one and digging the red one out of the snow. It was the same old wooden pipa he remembered, the one that once belonged to his mother. It didn't seem to be talking or was transformed, but he still found relief that it was returned to him.

Shāng leaned over to Mù. "It's no longer Líng Yá. It's just that old pipa."

Mù frowned. "He's connected to Wū Yáo, and until he remembers, Líng Yá may continue to be that distant voice he cannot hear. Líng Yá might need Wū Yáo to acknowledge him to return to his pipa state."

"And right now with that sword's effects, remembering is exactly what he shouldn't be doing right now," Shāng knit his brow.

Mù nodded. "I'm worried about him, Bù Huàn. That light in his eyes is fading quickly. He spent half the hike up staring at the ground. I'm afraid we're losing him."

Shāng frowned, watching Làng pick up the pipa and run his fingers along the strings. "We have to find that blade. Làng's still in there somewhere, still fighting against its effects on the inside even if the docile former self is on the outside. We haven't lost yet, and I refuse to give up."

Mù knit her brow as she watched Làng cradle the old pipa. "Even if his memories become sealed, he's still our Wū Yáo."

"I don't want to think of that possibility just yet," Shāng shook his head. "I can't lose him again."

"I know," Mù agreed. "I couldn't bear to lose him a second time either. But if it does happen, if we cannot fix this, we'll make new memories. We'll help him become himself again, even if it takes years. He will always be our friend, no matter what form he takes."

Shāng nodded. "Always."

Làng cradled his precious pipa in his hands, the one that had supposedly been stolen from him. He frowned just slightly, finding the large gash along the back. Damage from the fall, no doubt. One thing both tales had correct. He fell pretty far, eventually losing consciousness by the time Xiào Kuáng Juàn had found him. He flipped the pipa over, pulling at the strings. Even with the gash, the tone still sounded perfect. That white one never suited him.

But there was something else his mind was trying to remember. Perhaps it was what Mù had said, that the pipa had transformed with his own resolve. He couldn't fathom having any resolve. It wasn't something a sorcerous blade should have, but both Mù and Shāng had mentioned it. Something had happened in that two year period, and it all came crashing down two months ago when he fell off the cliff.

Làng gripped the pipa as the pain was threatening to take him down into the snow. Why was this happening again? He was purposely trying not to remember. But if it were anything like the first attack in the hallway, something small could take him right down to the ground. It was deja vu, a reminder, something trying to reach out to him from beyond that sealed wall. He wanted this to stop. He wanted to remember, but each time he desired it, he felt like he was losing everything more and more.

He awoke buried under a heap of blankets, a fire crackling nearby. Làng had expected to be alone, but he found Shāng had nodded off sitting up next to him. His jumbled mind said that Shāng and Mù would abandon him at the cabin, but something inside of him said otherwise. He could still feel the pain from his last attack, the life trying to fade from him.

Whatever was locked behind that two year memory gap was slipping through his fingers. That other self with a will, Shāng and Mù had told him. He still couldn't fathom having such a strong will of his own, but if he had one before, somehow someway, he needed it back. He would keep surviving, continue enduring, try not to think of the gap and insight more painful attacks. The more they happened, the less chance he had to overcome this. He couldn't live like this anymore. He had to find a way to become himself again. No matter what.