Xue Yang imagines carving her up slowly, starting with her pretty mouth. That way, she wouldn't be able to talk and talk and talk until he wants to stab his sword into his own ears to gain a moment of peace. He doesn't trust this blind girl. He's not certain she is blind, but he's tested her now numerous times, and if she can see, she's a careful actor.
They have that in common.
Xiao Xingchen stands in the corner, polishing Shuanghua, his head angled slightly toward A-Qing as she prattles on about some nonsense or another. He's smiling, and offers gentle remarks and murmured surprise where necessary.
Xue Yang wonders if he might be a great actor as well, since he can't imagine anyone enjoying this company or this place—or this life for that matter. But it's been a little over a month now, and Xiao Xingchen has been the same mellow, contented person through all of it. It appears he legitimately enjoys his life.
How? How can Xiao Xingchen be so peaceful? How can he smile and laugh and care for others when the world has turned its back on him? He's lost his eyes, his best friend and cultivation partner rejected him, and he lives like a recluse in a freaking coffin house in the middle of nowhere. What is there to smile about? He should be wallowing in misery, or planning his revenge, or wasting away with drink and women.
How dare he still shine so brightly after the ruin that's become of him.
Xue Yang's blood boils. He wants to crush that light out of him, and Xiao Xingchen, naive fool that he is, has given him the perfect opportunity.
He has no idea that he has invited a viper into his home. Xue Yang almost wants to shout out the truth just to see the shock on Xiao Xingchen's face. But he holds his tongue, because his favorite type of revenge has always been the slow, methodical sort. He wants Xiao Xingchen to suffer, and this new twist in their fates gives Xue Yang endless opportunities for small tortures.
"Would you like to come?"
Xue Yang is so deeply entrenched in daydreams of blood and carnage that he doesn't register the question until a few silent seconds tick by. He looks up to find both Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing facing his direction.
"Come where?" he asks, making sure to keep his voice soft and innocent.
"A-Qing asked if we could go into town and buy lychees. It's her birthday."
Xue Yang leers at A-Qing's grinning face. He would bet the rest of his fingers on his left hand that it is not her birthday. "Oh, really?" he says with feigned interest. "How old are you today, Little Blind?"
"None of your business," she snaps. "Don't you know it's rude to ask a maiden her age?"
"I didn't. Please let my apology be my birthday present to you."
"I don't accept it."
"A-Qing," Xiao Xingchen scolds gently.
A-Qing bangs her bamboo pole on the floor. "He didn't even actually apologize, so how can I accept it? I won't." She turns her pouting face aside and mutters, "He's always so mean to me, and you never make him apologize. And it's my birthday."
Xiao Xingchen shakes his head, but he's smiling, as if her childish tantrum is cute. Xue Yang rolls his eyes, but an idea is starting to take shape. He pushes up from his seat on the floor.
"I meant no offense," he says, "but I'll make it up to you. Daozhang, let's go buy the lychees."
A-Qing perks up, and now Xiao Xingchen's smile is all for him.
Xue Yang waits while the man gathers his sword and purse, but when they cross to the door and he hears A-Qing tapping after them, Xue Yang slides his foot in front of her pole to stop her.
"Little Blind, you must stay here."
"What?" Her expression tightens in suspicion. "Why?"
"It's your birthday, so you should relax at home." When he sees that A-Qing is about to throw a fit again, he adds, "And I want Daozhang to help me pick you out a present. Presents are no fun if they aren't a surprise, so you have to wait here."
She purses her lips. "You mean it?"
"Yes," says Xue Yang. He checks to ensure Xiao Xingchen is not close, then shoves A-Qing off the threshold.
"Hey—" she gasps, but he slams the door shut on her and joins Xiao Xingchen on the path.
"A-Qing is staying behind to rest," Xue Yang chirps. "Let's go and come back quickly, so she doesn't have to wait too long. We don't want her to throw another fit."
Xiao Xingchen takes his explanation at face-value.
Xue Yang hurries them along, reveling in the cool afternoon air and the freedom from A-Qing's sneering looks and sharp, wheedling voice. Jiangzai is a pleasant weight against his hip, and his limbs buzz with anticipation at the whisper of wind through the trees. He feels like he's on a night-hunt, and his mood turns playful.
He turns to his prey. "You keep strange company."
"How do you mean?"
"You took in Little Blind, and now me. You pick up strays like a dog picks up you're blind yourself, and live so far from town, so it's not like you're in a position to be caring for others." Xue Yang clasps his hands together and laughs. "This is a literal case of 'the blind leading the blind!' "
Xiao Xingchen, too, gives a light laugh, and Xue Yang's mouth curves into a hungry grin.
"But since you are blind," he continues, "you can't always be sure of who you're bringing into your home. Don't you think it's a dangerous pastime?"
Xue Yang brushes his fingers over Jiangzai's hilt. He is completely healed from his wounds now due to Xiao Xingchen's dedicated care. He could run the man through right here, slide the sword through his back and into his heart, and by the time Xiao Xingchen registered the betrayal, it would be too late.
Xiao Xingchen considers his question a moment. "I believe that good deeds breed good karma. If you are kind, the universe will pay back that kindness tenfold."
Xue Yang suppresses a scoff. What a simpleton. The universe doesn't give two shits what you do. You could do someone a kindness, and the world would turn around and spit in your face for your trouble. Xue Yang is living proof. All the good he's had in his life he had to wrestle from fortune's jaws.
Xiao Xingchen is too old to be so gullible. Xue Yang wants to pull the cloth from his eyes and stab his thumbs into Xiao Xingchen's empty eye sockets. Then he'd understand what his latest kindness had afforded him.
His blood rises again, and Xue Yang's head fills with all the ways he could dispatch Xiao Xingchen. His hands tingle, anticipating the sensation of Xiao Xingchen's throat caving in his choking grip. Deep in the woods as they are, no one would be likely to find the body for days. Or, actually, perhaps A-Qing would venture out after a day or so, her heart aflutter with worry for her caretaker, only to stumble blindly over his corpse.
Xiao Xingchen pauses. "Are there any monsters near?"
"Mm? No, none that I see. Why?"
Xiao Xingchen's mouth tightens. His head swivels to the woods lining the path, the tails of his eye bandage fluttering in the light breeze. "I feel resentful energy from somewhere nearby…"
Oops. Xue Yang presses a hand over his mouth to smother his smile. "I don't see any— Oh, wait, there is something."
Xiao Xingchen lays a hand on Shuanghuaand pulls it a few inches from its scabbard.
In the direction Xiao Xingchen faces, a man stumbles through the woods. When he's closer, it's obvious that the man is unwell. He's sweating and weaving like a drunk. Streaks of purple veins climb up his neck and have begun to spider over his face.
"It's just a man infected with corpse poisoning," Xue Yang says blandly.
The tension in Xiao Xingchen's body eases, but before he can slide Shuanghuaback into its sheath, Xue Yang notices it's glowing. He frowns, but then remembers he has heard Xiao Xingchen's sword has special properties.
"Your sword," he says slowly, "can it sense corpse energy?"
"Yes," Xiao Xingchen answers, his voice warm with pride. His long, slender fingers rest on the tip of Shuanghua's hilt, poised as a perched dragonfly. "It has come in handy in the years since I lost my sight. I wouldn't be able to night-hunt without it."
"I bet. You're very lucky to have such a sword." Xue Yang studies the shining blade through the transparent frost pattern on the scabbard. He glances at the poisoned man, then at the sword again, watching the glow fade as the man travels farther away.
A new idea begins to turn in his mind—a better one than killing Xiao Xingchen outright.
"You said the man was infected with corpse poisoning?" Xiao Xingchen's voice is full of concern. "Can you tell how far along? I don't have any elixir, but I might be able to make congee..."
"He's too far along for that," Xue Yang sniffs, but then tags on "sadly," for the sake of appearing sympathetic.
Xiao Xingchen's expression is solemn, but Xue Yang urges him to continue their walk towards town.
"Actually, there have been a lot of reports of walking corpses up here lately," says Xue Yang. "I hope that the infection doesn't spread. Corpse poisoning is such a terrible way to go, don't you think?"
Shuanghua falls, ending another villager's life. The man dies on his knees, moaning for mercy right up until the end; but without a tongue, his pleas fall dumb, and without eyes, Xiao Xingchen is blind to his fear.
Xue Yang luxuriates in the chaos. Blood stains the dirt like wine, a fine cocktail of terror and confusion permeates the air, and he is drunk on it.
He spots a child hiding underneath one of the houses, hoping to be spared by staying out of sight. Xue Yang tsks and yanks him out by his leg. The boy's mouth is filled with blood, and his throaty screams rattle the air like the guttural bellows of the dead.
Fitting, for that's what he soon will be.
Xue Yang holds the boy by his hair and slices his Achilles tendons to hobble him. "Daozhang!" He tosses the child onto the dirt between them. "There's another one behind you."
Satisfaction swells in his chest as Xiao Xingchen turns toward his voice and approaches. The crippled boy crawls across the dirt, dribbling blood and snot and tears as he scrambles to escape, but there is no escape. Xiao Xingchen is a skilled cultivator and his sword has a long reach.
Xue Yang thinks of all the times Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan sneered at him, denounced his sinful ways, called him depraved and disgusting. They lorded over him like he wasn't fit to lick the dirt off of their shoes.
Well, Xiao Xingchen doesn't look so high and mighty now as he cuts the whimpering child down. His saintly hands are drenched with innocent blood, and Xue Yang can imagine nothing headier.
Looking around at the massacre, he realizes that the boy was the last this town had to offer. He'll have to begin preparations for the next batch of victims in a week or so. Xue Yang rolls the body of an elderly woman over with his foot and stoops to collect a vial of her blood, in case he can't find a walking corpse to collect powder from between now then. The blood takes a bit longer to infect a person, but it sets off Shuanghuajust the same.
When Xue Yang first started this little experiment, he thought he might let Xiao Xingchen kill a few dozen people before he revealed himself and the true nature of their night-hunts; and then he'd kill the man once he'd had his fill of his horror.
But now Xue Yang thinks he won't kill Xiao Xingchen after all. There's too much pleasure in watching him pervert himself, in knowing that he has brought Xiao Xingchen down to his level. They play in the same sordid sandbox now, even if Xiao Xingchen isn't yet aware of it.
Shuanghua's light goes cold. "Was that the last?"
"That's all of them," says Xue Yang as he admires the blood dripping in teardrops from Shuanghua's blade. "You're so talented, Daozhang. Not a single one escaped. Here, give me your sword so I can clean it."
Xue Yang takes Shuanghua carefully when Xiao Xingchen holds it out to him. It feels like sacrilege to hold the sword. The hard, cool metal reminds him of snake's skin, and every second he has it in hand, there is the inexplicable fear that it will rear up and bite him. Perhaps it can taste his malice.
"Thank you, as always, for your help," Xiao Xingchen murmurs.
"It's my pleasure."
Xue Yang taps Xiao Xingchen's hand with Shuanghua's hilt to let him know it's ready to take back. Xiao Xingchen slips the sword into its scabbard and smiles. "It's nice to have company during these night-hunts. It's been a while since I've had a partner; I didn't realize how much I missed it."
Partner? Xue Yang pauses in the midst of wiping his bloodied hands on the skirt of a dead maiden. "Oh? What happened to your old partner?"
Xiao Xingchen's smile falters. "He… Our lives took different paths."
"Sounds like he broke your heart." A little derision slips into Xue Yang's tone when he says it and he bites the inside of his cheek. A few more slips like that and the game would be over before he's had his fill.
"You lose a little of yourself in every relationship." The words are a heavy sigh, as if this is a topic Xiao Xingchen has thought often on and still has yet to come to terms with. "Perhaps he did take a bit of my heart when ours ended."
No, he took your eyes, idiot. And then cast you aside like garbage.
Xue Yang rises from his crouch and stares Xiao Xingchen in the face. His bandage rests perfectly straight across where his eyes once were. By some miracle, the cloth is pristine despite the carnage around them. Even after massacring a village, he manages to exude the compassion and tranquility of a saint.
Xue Yang clenches his hands at his sides. If this relationship, too, is to take something from Xiao Xingchen, he wants it to be his heart—his whole heart—so that he will have to bear the same emptiness that Xue Yang has suffered his whole life.
"Sounds lonely," he says aloud, because it seems that something should be said, but he doesn't care enough to put any effort into the response.
"Yes." Xiao Xingchen's voice is laced with regret, but his smile is hopeful. "I was for a long time. But it helps that I'm not alone anymore. They say time heals all wounds, but I disagree; I think companionship is a surer remedy for heartache. Now that I have you and A-Qing to keep me company at home and on night-hunts, I feel more at peace than I have in many months."
Xue Yang is glad that Xiao Xingchen can't see the disbelief on his face. For the last three months, he has worked his hardest to debase the man, and now Xiao Xingchen tells him he feels nothing but gratitude and ease in his presence?
But then, he has no idea of the things Xue Yang has tricked him into. From Xiao Xingchen's perspective, he is the very picture of the happy, helpful shidi. Someone he trusts, and who brings him comfort in times of grief.
"Speaking of A-Qing," Xiao Xingchen says, "we should get back home. She'll worry if we're out too late. We'll have to burn these corpses before we go, though."
Xiao Xingchen slips a foot forward and it brushes against the crippled child's body. He stills and furrows his brow, and Xue Yang's heart beats a tattoo against his breastbone.
"Careful, Daozhang. There are corpses all over. Let me…" He rests a hand on the edge of Xiao Xingchen's wrist.
It is the opposite of holding Shuanghua. Xiao Xingchen's skin is soft and warm, but Xue Yang feels bitten all the same. A jolt races up his fingers at the contact, burning through his veins like venom, freezing his lungs and taxing his heart.
It's a full body invasion, a threat he has never felt before. It takes everything in him not to jerk back and press Jiangzai to Xiao Xingchen's neck in warning.
"Are you alright?"
Xue Yang swallows down the terror building at the back of his throat. "Daozhang's wrists are so thin. I worry that you aren't eating properly."
His voice is rough and fumbling, and Xue Yang panics that Xiao Xingchen will be able to hear the truth of him in it.
A soft laugh rumbles in Xiao Xingchen's throat. "We eat the same things. And you know I can get around well enough on my own. But since you offered your help, I would be grateful if you'd lead me out of the way of any corpses. I wouldn't like to accidentally step on one and disrespect them in death."
He slips his hand into the crook of Xue Yang's arm and pats it to signal that he's ready to be led. Once they are safely at the edge of the village, Xue Yang releases him and cradles his hand against his chest. He expects it to look scalded—it feels burned—but his skin is unscathed.
"Yes. Well," Xue Yang mutters, trying to find his bearings again. "You might be capable, but you look far too frail. I think the vendors in town are shafting you because you're blind."
"Have you been talking to A-Qing?"
"Not when I can help it."
Xiao Xingchen laughs for real this time. "Well, she always says the same. But the vendors in town know me well, and most of them are kind and don't take advantage of my blindness. Sometimes they just don't have anything good to sell.
"I'm not naive; I've known despicable people"—Xue Yang's left hand twitches—"but there are few who are despicable enough to bother with. If a vendor tricks me once in a while, that's a smaller sin than I'm willing to make a fuss about. Unless, of course, they're doing something as dishonest as selling me rocks and calling them potatoes."
Xue Yang clicks his tongue. "You're too easygoing. I thought you were some great cultivator, but you have no conviction—or passion for that matter. You speak like you're one hundred years into retirement."
"I've retired to the countryside, so close enough. I'll leave the passion to young people like you and A-Qing."
"You're not much older than me."
Only after he's said it does Xue Yang realize how childish he sounds. He suspects Xiao Xingchen is thinking the same, but he's far too polite to comment.
Xue Yang rolls his piece of candy back and forth on the table.
Ever since that cold, windy night, when he was feeling so bored and competitive that he deigned to share his story of childhood trauma, Xiao Xingchen has given both him and A-Qing a piece of candy every day. Silently, and without ceremony or the expectation of gratitude.
Which is good, because Xue Yang refuses to thank him. He refuses to eat the candies as well, choosing instead to ferret them away in his pockets, or remove them to a small cache in the corner when his pockets grow too full. He has two piles going: his own stash, which he can eat at his leisure, and the collection from Xiao Xingchen. He is waiting to see when the novelty runs out and Xiao Xingchen gives the matter up.
So far, the streak has remained unbroken for a week.
Xue Yang scowls and slips the piece of candy into his pocket. He wants Xiao Xingchen to stop being nice to him. It makes torturing him less fun. Torture is worthless when your object has no idea that you're torturing them, and instead pats you on the head and gives you candy. He misses the days when Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan lectured him on his immoral ways and they came to blows. Maybe he should reveal his identity.
But not tonight.
A snowstorm howls outside the window, and the cold creeps through the walls of the coffin house. If he's going to reveal himself, Xue Yang would prefer to do it in spring or summer, so he won't have to deal with such unpleasant elements when it's time to move on.
The three of them huddle close to the furnace, and A-Qing is hogging their only blanket and leaning against Xiao Xingchen's side like he's her own personal pillow. Resentment flares in the pit of Xue Yang's stomach.
He will never understand why A-Qing is an accepted member of this household. She's a useless blind bitch who doesn't help with anything. That she lacks a core and can't cultivate is deplorable enough, but she can't chop wood, or cook, or clean, or help fix the leaks in the roof either.
And yet she's allowed to squat here and take up all of Xiao Xingchen's attention.
Xue Yang is the one who actually does what needs to be done around this house. He is the one who bargains with vendors and bullies them into giving them quality products; he is the one who makes sure there is always something to night-hunt when they need to blow off steam; and he is the one who ensures Xiao Xingchen's every need is tended to so that he will never have reason to leave.
If anyone deserves attention, it's him.
Xue Yang scowls and glares and digs his nails into his palms, but, blind to his fury, Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing keep chatting pleasantly.
"Is it still snowing?" A-Qing asks, finally turning her milky eyes his way.
"It's not expected to stop until the morning," he growls. "I've told you this a dozen times now. If you ask me again, I'll throw you out the door and you can judge for yourself whether it's still snowing."
A-Qing groans. "It's so boring being stuck in here all day!" she wails, and buries her head against Xiao Xingchen's shoulder.
Xue Yang tastes blood. He's bitten the inside of his cheek. He presses his tongue into the cut until his mouth fills with the tang of metal.
"I'm sorry there isn't much to do here," says Xiao Xingchen. "We could practice weaving baskets again? Yours was coming along quite nicely last week."
A-Qing lifts her head from Xiao Xingchen's shoulder. The expression she wears is nothing short of desolate, but she sighs and answers, "Fine."
She pouts when he hands the basket to her, and begins fiddling with the fibers with no real intent to weave them. They talk of mundane things as they work, and Xue Yang is in serious danger of smashing his head into the table out of boredom.
Luckily, since their last tedious evening in, he has prepared some contingency goods. Xue Yang crawls away from the warmth of the furnace and pulls two ceramic bottles from his corner stash. He sets them on the table, drags a cup toward him, and tugs the stopper from one of the bottles.
Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing perk up at the noise, and the latter sniffs the air. "What's that?"
"Rice wine."
Xue Yang queues up his refusal to share, but A-Qing wrinkles her nose and slumps.
"Oh," she mumbles. "I thought it was something good."
A-Qing and Xiao Xingchen continue their basket tinkering and inane conversation, and Xue Yang does his best to pretend that he is drinking alone somewhere far away. The monotony drags on so long that by the time A-Qing announces she's tired and climbs into her coffin to sleep, Xue Yang has finished the first bottle and is intoxicated enough to consider opening the second.
He circles his finger over the lip of the empty jar and watches Xiao Xingchen across from him. He has abandoned his intricately woven basket on the table and now appears to be meditating. When A-Qing isn't around to hassle him, Xiao Xingchen is often still and silent. Xue Yang's bleary mind tries to guess at what he thinks about.
All the people he misses? The business he's left unfinished? Enemies he failed to conquer, or sights he will never see again?
Xue Yang sighs. He's not drunk enough to pry, and some part of him whispers the less he engages with Xiao Xingchen, the better.
He unstoppers the second bottle.
"Is there enough for two?"
Xue Yang pauses with the jar poised to pour into his cup. His gaze flicks to Xiao Xingchen, but he looks as serene as ever. He blinks, and thinks he might have imagined the words until Xiao Xingchen says, "I understand if you don't want to share, however."
Xue Yang puts the bottle down with a clunk and arches an eyebrow. "You drink?"
"Occasionally, and mostly to be sociable. But there's something about the scent of snow in the air that makes me feel like a drink." His smile is cool, but there is an edge of sweetness to it that feels almost like mischief. "I would have asked earlier, but I know A-Qing doesn't like drinking, and that if she saw us, she would be jealous and force herself to join anyway."
Xue Yang snorts. "Such a considerate daozhang." He pours Xiao Xingchen a serving of wine and slides it across the table. "In front of you."
Xiao Xingchen thanks him and takes up the cup, but Xue Yang cannot quite believe he means to drink it until he lifts it to his lips and takes a sip. His lips part in disbelief when he does.
Xiao Xingchen places the cup down and cants his head to the side. "It feels as though you want to ask me something. Am I right?"
Xue Yang laughs and pours himself a glass. "Honestly, I thought you were above such vices. I've never seen you show the slightest interest in material things."
"I walk a moderate path, but I'm hardly a monk."
"Are you sure? You live like one." Xue Yang throws his drink back and pours another. "I'm wondering now whether I should try to get you drunk, to see what other surprises it might afford."
The idea of a drunk Xiao Xingchen at his mercy sends a dirty little thrill down into Xue Yang's belly. He doubts many—if any—before have had the opportunity of seeing the man inebriated.
Since they started living together, Xue Yang has had the pleasure of watching Xiao Xingchen commit several unwitting sins of his own devising. He would love to add this new debauchery to his collection.
"I said I live a moderate life and drink socially; I've never been drunk, nor do I plan to be."
"Oh, but it's a rite of passage, and there's nothing else to do while we're snowed in. Think of it as a bonding experience between men."
Amusement rests in the corners of Xiao Xingchen's mouth as he sips at his wine. "I promise nothing. But you've piqued my curiosity; what do men typically bond about over drinks?"
"Mm." Xue Yang presses his cup to his lips, savoring the cool kiss of the ceramic. "Depends. People they hate, people they like. Money, hobbies. Sex."
Xiao Xingchen's brows draw together. "Some of those topics are more intimate than others."
"Well, the conversation depends on the intimacy of the men, of course. Though, if you drink enough, you can become intimate with practically anyone."
Xiao Xingchen's chin dips, and Xue Yang realizes he's made him uncomfortable. He has never seen him flustered before; his brain tells him to catalogue it, push it further, find some way to use it to his advantage.
But Xue Yang's cheeks heat in confusion. What is he insinuating anyway? He's not sure where this conversation is going, and he doesn't like how the combination of alcohol and Xiao Xingchen fucks with his head.
Xue Yang places his half-emptied cup on the table and resolves to drink no more tonight.
"Forgive me," Xiao Xingchen murmurs. "I'm out of practice with these sorts of conversations. Or, well,"—his smile is contrite—"I was never good at them to begin with. I've only ever had one close friend, and Song Lan—"
"Don't talk about him!"
Xiao Xingchen straightens, shocked.
Fuck.
Xue Yang clenches his teeth so hard his jaw cracks. The pleasant warmth in his stomach turns sour. His thoughts panic and scatter. He drops his elbows onto the table and squeezes his head between his hands.
What am I doing?
"That close friend was your old partner, wasn't he?" Xue Yang forces out.
"...Yes."
"You always sound sad when you talk about him. I don't want to talk about anything sad tonight. The weather is depressing enough."
Xiao Xingchen remains quiet and Xue Yang keeps his head trapped in the cage of his fingers.
His cheeks burn and he wants to peel the skin off his face to rid himself of this furious mixture of jealousy and self-hatred.
"Such a considerate shidi."
Xue Yang raises his head. Xiao Xingchen has recovered from his surprise and his expression is the usual combination of sweetness and serenity, and perhaps an ounce of guilt.
Idiot. You don't have a suspicious bone in your body, do you? Xue Yang swallows and turns his face away.
"It's been almost a year now, hasn't it?"
Xue Yang makes no response, and Xiao Xingchen continues after a moment. "Will you be making plans to move on soon? I wouldn't want to keep you from any adventures or friends waiting elsewhere. I know A-Qing and I are not the most exciting company."
Xue Yang picks at the grain of the table. The soft sound fills the empty space in the air until he's ready to speak again.
"I thought I might stay here awhile longer. If you don't mind."
The fire of the furnace is waning, but Xiao Xingchen's smile lights the room in its place. "We'd be happy to have you for as long as you want to stay."
Xue Yang's stomach squirms, and he only manages a quiet grunt in response. Xiao Xingchen chuckles and downs the last of his wine.
"It's getting late. I'm going to retire for the night." He rises from his kneel and moves towards the pile of straw he's made for a bed. "Sleep well."
Xue Yang stays up until the furnace is nothing but cinders. He stares at the back of Xiao Xingchen's head, eyes hard and dark as coal.
He knows he has to face the feelings that have been creeping through his mind. When he's sober, he is quick to transmute his uncertainty into anger or disgust, but with the alcohol diluting his blood and softening his inhibitions, he feels at last ready to look at them askance.
Xiao Xingchen's kindness burns warm and soft like an ember; but fan the flames, and he only gets brighter, and that brilliance spreads to those closest to him. For years, all Xue Yang wanted was to extinguish that brilliance—or at the very least, tarnish and fracture it so that he would no longer have to suffer in its shadow.
But in the last few months spent by Xiao Xingchen's side his desires have altered.
This is due, in part, to Xiao Xingchen's situation. He is isolated now and keeps his fights to just the monsters that lurk in the woods outside his home and the surrounding villages. He has left his old life and connections behind, and he no longer feels like such a threat.
Xue Yang is the only one who gets to see Xiao Xingchen now, and although he has to compete for his attentions when A-Qing is around, there are the hours of night-hunting or early mornings where he has him all to himself.
Now he's begun to think it a shame to kill Xiao Xingchen when he can cultivate his brilliance for himself. It's fun to talk to him, and night-hunt with him, and tease him. To have someone who will laugh at his jokes and bring him presents, and who treats him with affection. Xue Yang has never had such a person before, and he is loath to let him go.
He knows he can never have the things he has now—that he can never have Xiao Xingchen—if his identity is ever revealed. With his luck, he can't help but believe the truth is bound to come out one day. But until then, he is content to whittle him down until his soul is just as sullied and twisted as his, until they fit together so well that Xiao Xingchen cannot escape him.
The roiling uncertainty in Xue Yang's chest settles once he's formed this resolution. He pulls a piece of Xiao Xingchen's candy from his pocket and pops it into his mouth. He lets the smooth sweetness of it melt over his tongue for a moment.
Then he bites down and smiles as it cracks between his teeth.