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Zhuo Yichen feels like he's waking from a long dream as the scrap of paper floats down into his hand. The yunguang sword glows in his grasp; its power recognizes Zhao Yuanzhou's soul. Something stirs inside him: deep and vast, a huge yearning that could engulf him if he let it. The sensation is not unfamiliar, so he simply breathes through it, waiting for it to recede, as it has before. But this time it lingers; builds; grows stronger. Before long, his lungs are catching, his eyes stinging and hot. He stares through blurry lashes at the paper resting trustingly in his hand, and feels the almost violent yearning in him build to a peak.
Zhu Yan, a voice echoes within him, and Zhuo Yichen stiffens immediately. He had thought that the overwhelming strength of feelings inside him was his own- what is this other presence?
But as soon as he’s turned his attention to it, he’s able to recognize it. A subtle indigo weaves through his form, wrapped around every corner of his meridians like a parasitic fungus. It clings to him weakly, like Li Lun has no more strength than it’s taken to meld himself to Zhuo Yichen- to slowly siphon power off him. Zhuo Yichen hadn’t even noticed. Li Lun must have been hiding himself.
Why is he revealing himself now?
“Li Lun,” he says out loud; there’s no answer. Zhuo Yichen waits for a long time, holding the scrap of Zhao Yuanzhou’s soul in his hand and wondering at Li Lun’s silence.
—
He doesn’t risk it; doesn’t try to force Li Lun out on the spot. Instead, he goes to Wen Xiao, depositing Zhao Yuanzhou into her waiting hands. Her name glares from the paper into Zhuo Yichen’s vision, bold and undeniable. Zhao Yuanzhou truly meant to come back for her sake.
“Li Lun has parasitized me,” Zhuo Yichen says, trying not to think about Zhao Yuanzhou. Wen Xiao makes a small interested noise and sets the paper down reverentially into a warded wooden box, well lined with soft fabric. Zhuo Yichen’s heart twinges to see him put away; guarded. Out of reach.
“Can he control you?” Wen Xiao asks, voice curious and steady. Her power has grown so great since Zhao Yuanzhou’s death- all of his power cycled into the hands of the Baize goddess- that Zhuo Yichen has complete confidence in her ability to suppress Li Lun, should it be needed. Even through the shield of his own body.
“I don’t think so,” Zhuo Yichen answers, closing his eyes to explore the twists of his meridians. Li Lun’s power clings to them, deep blue and coolly uninterested in Zhuo Yichen’s examinations. Testingly, Zhuo Yichen lets a slight ray of his own power brush, ice-cold and hard, against where Li Lun’s power rests; it slips out of the way, dodging his touch. Interesting. “He feels… very much weakened.”
“Zhao Yuanzhou thought that assuming a human form so early would kill him,” Wen Xiao muses, coming to stand behind Zhuo Yichen and placing a palm on his shoulder to feel within his meridians. The sense of Li Lun’s presence vanishes, sudden and complete- as if he’s hidden himself away. “Fascinating,” Wen Xiao murmurs. “If he did survive, he would be much weakened.”
“What do I do?” Zhuo Yichen asks, turning to face her as her hand withdraws. Kill him? Nuture him? Interrogate him for answers as to how to reform Zhao Yuanzhou’s soul?
“It’s your body, xiao Zhuo,” Wen Xiao says calmly. Now that he’s a yao- now that she has the powers of the goddess- now that most of their companions are dead- she’s been more withdrawn, even with him. Doesn’t try to influence him. “It’s your decision.”
Zhuo Yichen teases his awareness through his body again and finds Li Lun’s presence, quiet and again tangible. Li Lun killed Ying Lei; had planned to suppress Bai Jiu into a state like death. Never landed a killing blow on Zhao Yuanzhou- but all his plotting still resulted in his demise. Sour, deep sorrow wells up in Zhuo Yichen. He tries to swallow it down, as is his habit; but it lingers. They lost so many people in that short, wild stretch of time, caught between the machinations of two dayao and Chongwu camp. Almost no one is left who knows what it was like; who went through it with them.
He’s surprised to find that he doesn’t want Li Lun’s death.
“Let me know what you decide, and if you need my help,” Wen Xiao says, half smiling at him. Zhuo Yichen meets her eyes.
He nods.
—
They don’t have much luck calling Zhao Yuanzhou forth from the scrap of paper. His soul reacts to very little; not infusions of qi, not the Baize power, not their entreaties. The closest they come is when Wen Xiao catches a finger on the sharp edge of something, and her blood stains the paper: the red energy of Zhao Yuanzhou’s soul flickers as if in protest, and then returns to dormancy. They’re stymied.
Strangely, Li Lun’s progress is much more rapid. Zhuo Yichen hadn’t wanted to kill him, but allowing him to shelter within his body seems to have had the inadvertent side effect of enhancing his cultivation. It’s no more than a few months before Li Lun’s tall, dark form appears before him one day while he’s out in the wilderness, long hair and robes trailing behind him and power swirling at the hems of his cloak.
“Li Lun,” Zhuo Yichen manages, in shock. Li Lun doesn’t spare him a glance; just curls his fingers testingly in the air, indigo power gathering around them. It’s much more dilute than his power used to be. He makes a low, disapproving noise; and in the next moment he’s gone, that sense of power settling back into Zhuo Yichen’s body.
He’s not fully recovered, it seems; intends to continue using Zhuo Yichen’s body to recuperate. No matter how Zhuo Yichen addresses him, there’s no response; so at last, Zhuo Yichen gives up and lets him be.
—
It’s another year of this- no progress with Zhao Yuanzhou, and Li Lun flickering in and out of existence to startle Zhuo Yichen whenever he pleases- before Zhuo Yichen reaches the limits of his patience. The next time Li Lun appears in front of him- this time, in the bureau, only rooms away from where they’re protecting Zhao Yuanzhou’s soul- Zhuo Yichen addresses him with brittle politeness.
“If you’re using my body to cultivate, can you at least explain what you’re doing?” Zhuo Yichen demands, arms crossed with the effort of keeping his tone even. Li Lun hasn’t spoken one word to him since giving him the truth eye and dying to protect him and Zhao Yuanzhou. “Or help us find a way to bring back Zhao Yuanzhou?”
Li Lun doesn’t even look at him; just continues to study his hands, a slight frown between his brows at the twist of energy between his fingers. He must still not be strong enough to sustain his form independently.
Zhuo Yichen waits for an answer; but none comes. After a few minutes, his fingers tighten in his sleeves, pulling the fabric tight around his biceps. It’s been months- years- of this, and he’s tired. Tired of grieving, tired of false hope, tired of being alone. When Li Lun still doesn’t reply, Zhuo Yichen strides toward him, thinking to grab his arm.
Li Lun’s gaze finally flicks to him; he- slinks back, somehow, disappearing like a shadow out of the reach of Zhuo Yichen’s palm. His face wrinkles with displeasure; with insult. As if Zhuo Yichen is too far beneath him to dignify with a blow. He was never this hesitant to engage with Zhuo Yichen before. Before, his hand would have already been around Zhuo Yichen’s throat.
“You’re running?!” Zhuo Yichen demands, and Li Lun huffs and turns- as if to stride out of the room they’re in.
Zhuo Yichen is struck with sudden panic. Li Lun has always returned to his body, before; what if this time, he’s recovered enough to leave? What if he departs now, and Zhuo Yichen never sees him again- just like Zhao Yuanzhou. Just like Ying Lei; like Bai Jiu.
“Come!” Zhuo Yichen demands- and Li Lun’s form suddenly reappears in front of him, wide-eyed and startled.
“What-” Li Lun’s deep voice comes, familiar enough that Zhuo Yichen’s nape prickles to hear it. There’s some lingering magic dissipating from around his body; his face is gradually tightening with anger. With fury. “You dare,” his low voice growls, quiet and violently thick. “A one word spell? Even Zhu Yan never-”
His mouth snaps shut; Zhuo Yichen stares at his furious face. Li Lun stands in front of him, proud and unbent- and trembling just slightly, as if trying to tear himself away from his position and failing.
“He left me his spells?” Zhuo Yichen manages, feeling lost. Li Lun makes a noise of outrage, and finally rips himself free from his position, stepping back with a hateful look.
“You’re chasing your own death,” he murmurs, and Zhuo Yichen unthinkingly parts his lips to speak again.
Li Lun’s eyes widen. Power gathers around him- deep and swirling- and he raises a hand, fingers twisted together in a defensive spell position. But Zhuo Yichen is already speaking, the word falling from his lip before he can stop to consider.
“Stay,” he says, and Li Lun’s power explodes around him in a burst of green-scented air. His face creases, teeth baring in a snarl; one foot slides back, as if he’s resisting a great pressure bearing down on him. Zhuo Yichen can feel the strength of his own single word meeting a frenzied, powerful resistance- and yet breaking past it, like the prow of a ship through choppy waters. Li Lun’s expression goes more and more frantic as it does; new power swirls in to support the old, attempting to bear Zhuo Yichen’s spell away. But he’s still not recuperated- has barely enough power to sustain an independent form. No matter how he fights, Zhuo Yichen’s power proceeds closer and closer toward him, unabated.
“Don’t-!” Li Lun manages, face paling, and Zhuo Yichen feels the edge of his power brush against Li Lun’s form. It sends a great shiver rocking through his frame, freezing him in place; Li Lun’s yao qi becomes uncontrolled, desperate. It fights against Zhuo Yichen’s already-formed spell, trying to knock it away like a wild animal slamming itself against iron bars; but the spell just tangles around him, forcing him into compliance. If the cantrip required any effort to sustain on Zhuo Yichen’s part, he would have dropped it in surprise at the expression on Li Lun’s face- open horror, naked fear. But the spell proceeds of its own accord- and, with a broken noise, Li Lun drops to one knee, yao qi terribly weakened by his resistance and body trembling. A completely unfamiliar wave of- something- bursts out of him, easing past Zhuo Yichen’s spell and dissipating to who knows where. Even overcome as he is, Li Lun’s head still shoots up in shock, eyes creasing in something like regret.
“What was-” Zhuo Yichen manages; but before he can finish speaking a flood of malicious power sweeps through the bureau, so heavy and voluminous that even Zhuo Yichen staggers. Screams echo from the halls around them- the servants must have felt it too. Zhuo Yichen’s head snaps to where he can feel the malicious energy congealing, dark and threatening, only a few rooms away. Li Lun is staring in the same direction, eyes wide and lips parted. In all their interactions, this is the first time Zhuo Yichen has seen him look like this. Shocked. Lost.
There’s no time to waste staring at Li Lun- and before Zhuo Yichen can address him, he’s disappeared again, his heavy presence settling back into its clandestine place around Zhuo Yichen’s meridians. Zhuo Yichen bursts out of the room, feet carrying him toward where the malicious energy swirls, so thick that he has to pull his yao qi around him in a shield to approach.
His throat goes thick as he nears the door behind which the energy swirls. His hand trembles as he raises it to the handle.
He knows this energy. He knows who bears it.
After all this- after all their struggle-
He returned, in the end, for…