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Zhao Yuanzhou waited until the rest of Kunlun went quiet to go in search of his co-conspirators. In some ways, it was strange to be back, wandering these lonely, windswept halls once more. And in others, it felt so natural to feel them more filled with with life than they had been in many years.
Ying Lei was easy enough to collect, loitering in the kitchens and bemoaning the changes made in his absence. Zhuo Yichen, however, was nowhere to be found in his guest quarters.
"Perhaps he's off with Shennü-daren?" Ying Lei wondered, casting him a sidelong glance that he probably imagined was subtle. As if Zhao Yuanzhou wouldn't be relieved to find Zhuo Yichen actually seeking comfort from Wen Xiao.
"Hmm," Zhao Yuanzhou said, and began walking in the opposite direction instead.
He had a feeling the real answer was nothing so sensible.
As expected, in defiance of the late hour and the exhaustion of the past few days, Zhuo Yichen not resting. His breath was visible in the crisp night air, steady and calm despite his exertions, body a silent swirl of motion in the snowy courtyard as he ran through the his sword forms. If he noticed them hovering in the doorway, he gave no sign.
They had much to discuss, but Zhao Yuanzhou still waved Ying Lei back and settled in to wait. With so little time left to him, there was no harm in allowing himself this small pleasure.
And it was a pleasure to watch Zhuo Yichen demonstrate his skill. His swordsmanship was exquisite; every movement was fluid and precise, power and grace equally balanced. Clearly, he and the sword were bonded now; it responded to him as though it was an extension of his body. If Zhao Yuanzhou had ever had any doubts if he was truly Bingyi's heir, the amount of progress he'd made in such a short time would have long since assuaged them. He was truly a prodigy.
Soon, there would be nothing more Zhao Yuanzhou could teach him. The thought was unexpectedly bittersweet.
That didn't mean he couldn't do himself harm by pushing too hard in the meantime, though of course, Zhuo Yichen was much too prickly to hear it.
"None of your business," he sniffed after Zhao Yuanzhou made himself known and pointed out as much.
Ah, the impetuousness of youth. Zhao Yuanzhou was fast gaining a new appreciation for what Ying Zhao must have suffered all these years in having to deal with him, though of course he would never admit it to the old man.
"I taught you this," he said firmly, sparing a brief moment to ask the heavens for patience. "Of course it's my business."
The vision he granted him of Bingyi's sword technique was the last lesson he could impart, at least when it came to the Cloud Light Sword. It would take a little time, but he could already tell that Zhuo Yichen would eventually be able to master it.
Zhuo Yichen knew it too—Zhao Yuanzhou could see it in his face as he blinked his way clear of the illusion. The odd thing was he didn't seem happy about it. The look of awe at the sight of his ancestor rapidly faded as soon as he understood what had happened, mouth turning down in a sullen frown.
"Why are you teaching me?" he finally burst out with the question that had clearly been gnawing at him.
Zhao Yuanzhou hesitated for only a moment. "Didn't I tell you?" he said, careful to betray no emotion. "I want you to kill me."
"You're lying."
"I'm not."
Zhuo Yichen studied him with a disconcertingly perceptive gaze. "When you made the oath with me in the dungeon back then, you truly weren't lying," he said, voice hardening into certainty. "Back then, you were consumed by a desire for death and your eyes were void of life. But now I can see that you no longer wish to die." He hesitated. "Is it because of Wen Xiao?"
So that was what had gotten him all wound up. Ah, Zhao Yuanzhou thought again, with a touch more fondness, youth. He probably should have expected as much after the way Ying Zhao went out of his way to stir the pot when telling them about the Baize Token earlier.
"I've found that mortal hearts have their charms," he admitted, since it seemed foolish to deny it. "So, for now, I don't want to die."
How strange to realize the words were actually true. After so long alone, he'd almost forgotten what it could feel like to be surrounded by warmth and companionship. To enjoy the simple pleasure of a shared meal and teasing laughter. To look at the the long years of future spread out before him and feel hope for something more than just oblivion.
At this moment, if there were no other dangers looming, he thought he might even be… content. How Zhao Wan'er's ghost must be laughing if she was watching him right now.
Zhuo Yichen still looked troubled. "Zhao Yuanzhou," he said, voice serious, "trust me, the further you go, the less you'll want to die. No matter how well you treat Wen Xiao, I've already sworn a deadly oath that one day I will kill you with my sword." His brow furrowed. "If I truly master the technique in the illusion, won't you regret it?"
Somehow, even after spending all this time together, Zhuo Yichen was still capable of surprising him.
From anyone else, this speech might seem innocuous. From the Commander of the Demon Hunting Bureau, it was tantamount to treason—after all, wasn't he only honor bound to fulfill his oath so long as Zhao Yuanzhou first upheld his own side of the bargain? Acknowledging this loophole could therefore only be interpreted as tacit encouragement to fail in his goal.
In spite of himself, Zhao Yuanzhou felt oddly touched. When he made this bargain, he'd never expected anyone would care enough to argue such things. But clearly, his plans back then had failed to anticipate the reality of Zhuo Yichen. How could anyone have expected one man could have such a scrupulous sense of fairness and justice?
Mortals and their charms, he thought wryly, and once again imagined the smugness of Zhao Wan'er's spirit at having proved been so right.
Gathering himself, he answered as gently as he could, "I won't."
Zhuo Yichen's face crumbled. "I don't understand," he said, looking equally bewildered and angry about it. "Since you no longer want to die, why are you still teaching me? Living with contradictions… isn't it agonizing?"
"Many people in this world live with contradictions." Zhao Yuanzhou looked at him pointedly. "I'm not the only one."
Zhuo Yichen flushed and looked away, perhaps realizing just how close he was coming to crossing a line and offering succor to his family's murderer.
Having made the point, Zhao Yuanzhou didn't press it further. They still had other matters to discuss, and those couldn't wait any longer. But no matter how well they prepared, there was some risk involved with this plan. And having been gifted with such honesty, it seemed suddenly important that he reveal a little of his own tender underbelly in return.
"If anything unexpected happens, I hope you can—"
"I'll ensure Wen Xiao's safety," Zhuo Yichen assured him briskly, as though Zhao Yuanzhou had just offended his honor by implying otherwise. This prickly boy!
Forcing himself to not get drawn into their regular sniping, Zhao Yuanzhou took a deep breath and corrected, "What I meant is that I hope you live well."
Zhuo Yichen froze, staring at him with wide eyes. Clearly as uncomfortable receiving sincerity as Zhao Yuanzhou was giving it.
"I don't need you to tell me that," he said after the silence threatened to grow awkward, but the words lacked their usual bite. "You owe me a life. As long as you're alive, I won't die before you."
"Fine," Zhao Yuanzhou agreed pleasantly, glad to be back on solid ground. "Then please keep your word, and let me die first."
Then he turned and called for Ying Lei, ignoring the way Zhuo Yichen sucked in a breath at the words, or the strangely wounded look on his face. His sense of justice would just have to suffer the blow.
If anything went wrong during the blood moon tomorrow, this would surely be the last time Zhao Yuanzhou received any pity from Zhuo Yichen. And if nothing went wrong, then… nothing would have changed, and Zhuo Yichen must still fulfill his oath soon enough.
So it was still best not to dwell on things that didn't matter.
The moon was high by the time the three of them finished running through the plan.
Ying Lei headed for his bed still looking slightly gutted by the thought of his fellow mountain god's betrayal. Zhao Yuanzhou regretted the necessity of bringing him into this, but his place was at his grandfather's side, and perhaps it was past time he realized that himself.
He turned from watching Ying Lei's retreating back to find Zhuo Yichen eyeing him speculatively.
"So," he said, crossing his arms. "What now?"
Zhao Yuanzhou smiled. "Now, Zhuo-daren, I will give you the armor I promised."
He expected Zhuo Yichen to be pleased by the offer, but he'd seemed strangely put out by it when Zhao Yuanzhou first brought it up. Perhaps he considered it an insult to his prowess; he should consider it the highest compliment instead. Zhao Yuanzhou had never granted such a boon to any other living creature in all his long years.
"However, I should warn you I cannot grant you partial immunity. It's all or nothing." He spread his hands. "Unfortunately, once you are immune, I will no longer be able to use my power to aid you."
Zhuo Yichen scowled, clenching the hand Zhao Yuanzhou had once healed for him. "Have I ever asked you to?"
"Of course, of course," Zhao Yuanzhou soothed. He hesitated, some inner voice warning this was probably a foolish idea; another, louder one, decided to ignore it. "But before we begin, is there nothing else you wish to experience?"
This clearly caught Zhuo Yichen off guard. "What do you mean?" he asked warily.
"Not all spells are bad," Zhao Yuanzhou said. "Some can be quite useful. Enjoyable, even."
Zhuo Yichen had gone slightly red-faced at this explanation, staring at Zhao Yuanzhou as though he'd said something shocking. Perhaps after all their experiences together so far, it was shocking to imagine any of Zhao Yuanzhou's spells could be harmless.
"I—" he began after a moment's pause, then stopped and cleared his throat before asking in a rough voice, "Useful how?"
Zhao Yuanzhou pretended to think, as though there wasn't one in particular he'd had in mind when he made the offer. "Xiao Zhuo-daren, how would you like to fly?"
"Be serious," Zhuo Yichen scoffed after a moment, though with a tinge of uncertainty.
"I'm being quite serious," Zhao Yuanzhou assured him.
"My qinggong is already—"
"I'm not referring to qinggong. I'm asking if you would like a pair of wings."
Zhuo Yichen's mouth dropped open wide enough to catch a fish. "What?"
"Only temporary, of course. But I'm told the experience is quite… exhilarating."
"You've been told," Zhuo Yichen echoed.
"Mm."
"You haven't done it yourself?"
"Ah, no. Regretfully, it doesn't work that way."
Zhao Yuanzhou wished that it did. He would have enjoyed soaring through the air at Li Lun's side. Of course, as a demon, he had other ways of managing that, but it was never quite the same in other forms as it was in these human ones. The feel of the wind through your hair, the thrill of seeing the ground far below through your own eyes, the wild swooping in your stomach as you dove… or so he'd been told.
"All right," Zhuo Yichen said, drawing him from his reverie.
Zhao Yuanzhou blinked at him. "All right?"
"Go on, then." He lifted his chin: a challenge. "Let's see what all the fuss is about. Give me wings."
"Very well."
Ignoring the way his own stomach was swooping right now, Zhao Yuanzhou gestured to the ground in front of him, then had to swallow very hard, as Zhuo Yichen wordlessly went down on one knee before him. With his sword planted in the ground, face turned expectantly upward, he was the very picture of innocence and virtue. For one wild moment, Zhao Yuanzhou had the urge to lay his hand on his head—as if he was fit to either offer a blessing or accept fealty.
Ridiculous!
Clenching his fist instead, he coughed delicately. "Ah, Zhuo-daren, I meant the other way."
Zhuo Yichen's eyes widened before narrowing into a glare. He swiftly turned so his back was to him, but Zhao Yuanzhou could see that the tips of his ear were pink, and bit back a smile.
"This may feel strange," he warned, schooling his expression back to neutrality. "Don't try to move too quickly. You must get used to the weight and the balance."
Then he raised his hands, gathering his power as he moved them through the series of motions this spell required. Zhuo Yichen jolted slightly as Zhao Yuanzhou pressed two fingers firmly to his back, willing that power into one word:
"Wing."
The magic released, dark feathers unfurling themselves across Zhuo Yichen's back in a cloud of smoke. Zhao Yuanzhou's breath caught—even in the moonlight, they were beautiful, large and powerful, ink-black with shimmers of deep blue and magenta. Wings were different from person to person, and these suited Zhuo Yichen perfectly: elegant and slightly dangerous, but so lovely that you couldn't but want to run your fingers through them.
Zhuo Yichen shivered, and Zhao Yuanzhou froze, realizing he'd done just that, fingers trailing over the impossibly soft feathers. Slightly flustered, he yanked his hand back.
"Are you all right?" he asked, shoving his treacherous hands behind his back.
"Yes," Zhuo Yichen said, not sounding certain about that fact at all. But a moment later, his voice grew more confident. "It does feel strange, but…"
"Xiao Zhuo?"
"…but also natural. As if somehow I'd always had them." He twisted slightly, peering over his shoulder in wonder.
"Remember to take it slowly," Zhao Yuanzhou cautioned, but Zhuo Yichen had already gotten to his feet, only stumbling slightly at the new and unfamiliar center of balance.
The wings fully extended with a snap, and he gave them an experimental little flap, looking at Zhao Yuanzhou with a grin. "I think I can feel how they work." They flapped again, this time with more purpose.
"Xiao Zhuo—"
Ignoring Zhao Yuanzhou, he bent his knees, and then, with an infinitely more powerful flap of the wings, launched himself up into the sky exactly as if he'd done it a thousand times before.
Zhao Yuanzhou staggered back a step with the force of the wind Zhuo Yichen left in his wake, head craning to watch as he soared graceful up and up and up, only to immediately drop into a death defying loop.
"Xiao Zhuo!" Zhao Yuanzhou called in exasperation, hand half-lifted to cast another spell of air to catch him should he lose control. "What did I just say?"
Zhuo Yichen's laughter floated down. "It's fine!" he called back, swooping low enough that the breeze from his passing ruffled Zhao Yuanzhou's hair. "I know what I'm doing!"
His uncomplicated joy was infectious, and Zhao Yuanzhou found himself smiling as well. He should have expected no less. Clearly, Zhuo Yichen was right; he took to the wings as though he'd been born with them. Watching him fly was as thrilling as watching him sword dance, the strong lines of his body twisting in the air as he dove and flew, swift as a bird, agile as a dragon.
It was truly a shame, Zhao Yuanzhou thought with some regret, that this would be the only time he'd get to see it.
All too soon, Zhuo Yichen touched down in front of him, stumbling only a little on the landing. "That was…" he said, cheeks bright from the cold, but still grinning.
"Enjoyable?" Zhao Yuanzhou suggested, and Zhuo Yichen seemed to come back to himself, face rearranging itself back into a more dignified expression.
"A unique experience," he said with lofty solemnity. Then added, "Thank you," while studiously not looking at Zhao Yuanzhou.
Zhao Yuanzhou sighed internally. "Come," he said, letting the wings faded back into smoke. The night wouldn't last forever, and their time was up.
Zhuo Yichen had his head twisted to watch them, wearing a wistful expression; now, he turned back to face Zhao Yuanzhou.
"Where are we going?"
"To my room."
Zhuo Yichen frowned. "Why can't we do it here?"
Zhao Yuanzhou looked down at the snow covered ground, then at his light sleep robe. "Because we'll need to sit down, and the ground here is cold." He affected a shiver. "Have pity on this old demon's bones, Xiao Zhuo-daren."
Zhuo Yichen's cheeks went delightfully pink, no doubt torn between wanting to insult Zhao Yuanzhou and smarting at the implication that he was being rude to an elder. In the end, he settled for rolling his eyes. "Fine," he grumbled. "Let's just get it over with."
Zhao Yuanzhou had occupied the same rooms whenever visiting Kunlun for centuries. Many of the belongings had migrated to the peach blossom house in Tiandu now, but there was still a good amount left over, the detritus of hundreds of years scattered about.
Zhuo Yichen looked around curiously as they entered. "These aren't guest quarters," he noted, poking at a book Zhao Yuanzhou must have been reading fifty years ago and had long since forgotten the plot.
"No," Zhao Yuanzhou agreed. He beckoned him over to the small table at the center of the room. "Sit."
Zhuo Yichen sat down, eyeing the jar of wine. "You still haven't told me what this ritual entails."
"Would you believe the ceremony requires you to have a drink with me?"
Zhuo Yichen's brows drew together, mouth twisting with familiar derision. "No."
Zhao Yuanzhou smiled in acknowledgment. Perhaps in another life, they could have sat down together and shared a toast. He would have liked that, he thought, setting the jar aside.
"You're right," he said instead. "But we will need to make an exchange." Picking up a small knife, he slid it across his own palm and laid his hand on the table. "Let me borrow some human blood of yours."
He could tell by the narrowing of Zhuo Yichen's eyes that he recognized his own words from several days before being thrown back at him. But he offered his own palm without complaint, not even wincing when Zhao Yuanzhou carefully drew the blade across it.
"Now what?"
Zhao Yuanzhou clasped their bloody hands, letting the blood smear and blend together. Though he'd never done it before, the process should be simple enough. Laying the knife down, he raised his other hand, gathering his power once again. This time, he drew its focus to the traces of blood swirling and mixing with his own. This is mine, he told his magic, and felt it shiver. We are one and the same.
And then he closed his eyes and pushed the power deep, let it move from him into Zhuo Yichen, taking his measure, learning the feel of his energy and his essence. There was an intimacy to this that could not be helped; perhaps he should have warned him of it, but for all Zhuo Yichen's prickliness, he barely reacted to the intrusion, letting Zhao Yuanzhou's energy in without a hint of resistance.
When it had finally drunk its fill, Zhao Yuanzhou breathed in and finally channeled his will.
"Remember."
He felt it when the spell snapped into place, binding them together with invisible ties. When he opened his eyes, his smoky, red energy was retreating, and Zhuo Yichen was watching him, their hands still linked.
"Zhao Yuanzhou," he began, sounding uncertain, "what—"
"It is done," Zhao Yuanzhou told him. "My spells will recognize you now."
Zhuo Yichen cast him a dubious look. "How can you be sure it worked?"
Zhao Yuanzhou sighed. "Such little faith." Raising his finger again, he drew his power and murmured, "Kneel."
Zhuo Yichen glared at him. "You—!" He jumped to his feet, yanking his hand away.
Zhao Yuanzhou shrugged. "See? It worked."
"Ridiculous."
Zhao Yuanzhou smiled and gestured to him. "Give me your hand."
"Why?" he said suspiciously, but obeying all the same. "I thought you said it was done."
"It is. Which is why this must be bandaged instead of healed," Zhao Yuanzhou said, conjuring a wet cloth to wipe the blood away.
"Zhao Yuanzhou!" Zhuo Yichen protested with a grimace, "It's barely a scratch."
"Indulge me." Zhao Yuanzhou wrapped another cloth around his hand, half expecting Zhuo Yichen to push him away, but he allowed the fussing until the knot had been tied. "There. Now you should go rest. No matter what happens, tomorrow will be a long day."
Zhuo Yichen didn't move for a moment before pulling it back. He looked like he might say something, but only nodded curtly before turning and heading for the door.
"Sleep well, Xiao Zhuo. Sweet dreams," Zhao Yuanzhou called after him.
For some reason, this made him stumble. Catching himself with a flush, he mumbled something indistinct and fairly fled the room.
Zhao Yuanzhou blinked at the empty space where he had been standing a moment before. Mortals might be charming, but they could also be quite puzzling.
Well, he thought. Perhaps that was part of their charm.