Archive of Our Own ^beta

It's more than halfway to the second century of their acquaintance that Xunfeng finds himself stopping by his sister-in-law’s lonely residence in Xishan. For as much as he hates to admit it, worry started to settle bitterly at the back of his throat after not seeing her personally for more than two years. There were of course the somewhat regular reports - mostly gossip - of her occasional entanglements in between the realms. So he found a reason to visit, flimsy but delivered with enough confidence that he could simply refuse to elaborate if questioned.

He finds Xiao Lanhua in the garden, pale and half asleep where she lay on the railing staring off into the grassy hills. She only notices his presence when he’s already at her side, and is quick to greet him with the usual sweet demeanor.

Xiao Lanhua doesn’t question his thin story, only helps with the stupid dispute he picked at random and could have solved on his own. Her usual chatter is absent, however, no matter how many openings he leaves for criticism, how many pointedly rude comments he makes about one side of the argument or the other.

At night, he watches her from the windows of the guest bedroom as she quietly steals back to the garden.

Trying to convince himself that whatever problem she has is none of his business is an useless exercise he doesn’t spend much time on. When the night is darkest and he doesn’t see any signs of her coming back up the stairs to her room, Xunfeng goes down himself.

There’s no moon to guide him but by now he’s been here enough times that the low glow of the few lanterns is enough to find his way by, and Xiao Lanhua’s clothes are still light enough to contrast with the grass she’s fallen on.

“Just how stupid are you?”

Xunfeng kneels on the plush floor and pulls her up by the arms, relieved to see she’s awake and concerned at how loose and heavy she feels. Her skin is cold when he presses fingertips to her pulsepoint and she falls against him, forehead to his shoulder like a cloth doll. He can feel her heartbeat and nothing else, even the blood seeming to run sluggish.

Above them, the only light is the shine of the mutton-fat jade pendant where the last sliver of Xunfeng’s brother’s soul is supposedly hiding. Both it and its nest of vines glow with the soft green of Xilan magic.

“And here we hoped you had changed,” he mutters while hoisting the half unconscious goddess onto his arms. “Turns out you’re still just as ridiculous as always.”

Decorum doesn’t even cross his mind as he carries her upstairs, guided by the glimmer of his own magic. Nor does respect, as he kicks aside the door to Xiao Lanhua’s cluttered bedroom. Her arms are tighter around his neck by the time he puts her to bed, over the covers and everything, and steps back.

“I’ll sit over there,” he points at the desk on the other side of the screen. “And you will sleep. In the morning we shall discuss your foolishness in detail.”

It’s too dark to tell for sure, but he thinks there’s a faint smile when she nods weakly.

“Xunfeng, can I ask you for a favor?” Xiao Lanhua keeps her eyes on the table as she stirs her bowl of porridge. It’s all Xunfeng had the patience to make in her kitchen, but it’s thick and well seasoned.

“Say it.” Xunfeng himself is watching her eat while internally trying his best to invoke the aura of his old overbearing nurse. He is indeed disappointed by the pallor of her face, even if her hands had stopped shaking after she started eating.

The night should have erased whatever respect he had for her, but instead Xunfeng finds himself more worried than angry, as if Xiao Lanhua’s obvious grief dug fingers into his own soul and pulled. Suddenly he’s open, only cold air where satisfaction should have been.

“Can I go back with you?” She asks and then, when he only looks confused, clarifies. “Is there somewhere in the palace where I could live?”

The question opens up a whole bright world of possibilities that Xunfeng stopped even dreaming about many, many decades ago. As it is, Xiao Lanhua is as permanent a fixture in his life as a simple woman could be.

“Are you asking for my permission to go back home?” He asks, not even trying to hide the incredulity in his voice.

“To the palace, yes.” She puts her bowl down, looking at Xunfeng as if honestly unsure of his answer.

Realizing that the idiotic behaviors won’t cease anytime soon, Xunfeng takes a calming breath of fresh grassy air to steel himself before answering. He never really saw a need to trim his words around her, but there's something in Xiao Lanhua this time that holds him back. Maybe the paleness of her face now, maybe the lifelessness of her body in his arms last night. 

“Of course,” he decides on. “I won't go out of my way to stop you, if that's your worry.”

Xiao Lanhua’s smile is small and shy, and somehow still too bright for mid-morning.

They don't make plans, but Xunfeng’s thin excuses served their purpose and his worry, while not exactly cleared, is assuaged enough that he is more than happy to put the whole thing in the past and pretend he never truly cared. So, before the sunset starts to color Xishan’s skies, they leave with very little beyond the small crescent pendant safely hanging around the fairy’s neck.

Xunfeng isn't really ashamed to admit he only has a fraction of the skill his brother had, and an even smaller portion in the interest, so the Arbiter Hall’s copy stays in Xishan and the repurposed dungeon remains an eerily empty void until he finds use for the space. The fairy is placed back at the Immortal Devouring Pavilion she occupied before, and the matter is resolved.

Xiao Lanhua, however, looks even more sickly pale as the days pass. Withering in the middle of spring.

“She's not sleeping,” Xunfeng's assistant tells him, as accompaniment to a dish of sliced fruit. “The queen retires at the same time every night, but doesn't sleep and is up before the sun.”

“Weilin…” Xunfeng drawls, leaning with his chin on a hand and watching the young man with half lidded eyes. The afternoon is lazy, quiet, and he’s feeling indulgent. “Have you been spying on Xiao Lanhua?”

They have been working together for long enough that Weilin doesn’t even blink at being teased, though now that he thinks about it Xunfeng doesn’t really remember ever seeing his trusty assistant being much rattled about anything. As it is, the young man only finds his usual spot in the comfortable chair diagonal of Xunfeng’s preferred seat and holds his gaze steadily with a pleasant smile.

“It is my job to be aware of what happens in the palace,” he says. Like it is cute. 

“You job,” Xunfeng points at him with the small two-pronged fork that came with the fruit. “Is to be aware of my troubles.”

“I am very aware of Your Highness’ troubles.” Weilin assures, looking demure and sounding adorably arrogant. “And I have assigned a rotation of companions for this one in particular.”

Well, it is certainly helpful to be quickly informed in case their beloved goddess and queen decides to ruin his day. So he just squints at Weilin for another moment before giving in to the sweetness of the fresh snack.

“It would be great if you could get rid of that problem,” he mutters. “Tell me more.”

In perfectly sparse detail, Weilin updates him on Xiao Lanhua's boring routine. Meditating in the sunrise, receiving all that come to see her but mostly wandering the palace or the streets like a wraith. Her maids try to cheer her up, and she reacts appropriately, but it doesn't seem to hold for long.

She was wan already when Xunfeng fetched her, and now she seems intent on finishing fading under his roof.

“My lord.”

Xunfeng is deeply asleep, so the quiet voice only registers when it's accompanied by the lightest of touches to his shoulder. Tens of thousands of years of fighting had him always ready to spring into action at a moment's notice, but a couple of centuries of calm almost completely destroyed the habit. So he turns lazily, blinking until the shadowed shape of Weilin's handsome face makes sense.

“My lord, there's an issue with the queen.”

That shakes off the sleep enough for Xunfeng to move. The robe he accepts from his assistant’s hands is pleasantly warm so the chill doesn't add to Xunfeng's already souring mood, but he can hear the roaring storm outside.

“What happened?”

He follows Weilin through the corridors, amazed at how alert he seems for someone working in the middle of the night - the boy is young but Xunfeng doesn't remember being this energetic even at that age.

“I'm not sure, only that she dismissed all the servants early and that the guards heard something that unsettled them.” Weilin seems a little embarrassed when he steals a sideways glance at Xunfeng, which is a first. “I don’t really have the authority to make them tell me anything.”

That is by design. For many years, Xunfeng’s assistant has been his eyes, ears and hands around the palace, rarely leaving and carrying out orders with ruthless efficiency. But nobody is obliged to obey him, though their resistance will be noted. It usually isn't a problem, nobody ever questioned Weilin's loyalty - least of all Xunfeng - and have no issues in helping him, but in matters as delicate as the Moon Queen Xunfeng won't fault them for being cautious.

So he matches Weilins's sheepish look with a raised eyebrow and continues on to the Immortal Devouring Pavilion.

What he doesn't expect to find is half a dozen guards clustered just outside of Xiao Lanhua’s bedroom, whispering between themselves like they're getting ready to fight some sort of terrible creature. The fairy might be a monster of a kind, but she is easily throwable if necessary.

“What's happening here?” He calls, startling all of the guards into lining up and greeting him properly.

“It's the queen, Your Highness.” The one in front answers with a short bow. “We were posted outside the doors as usual and…Well, she’s been crying all night.” He whispers the last part, clearly disconcerted even through the face shielding.

Xunfeng tries really hard to remember he's been building a good reputation as a reliable, sane leader for the tribe, and that shouting won't do any good to that or the growing headache.

“You cannot have possibly brought me out of bed because Xiao Lanhua is having a…”

His words are interrupted by the loud snap of lightening somewhere down the cliffs and a piercing shriek that's barely hidden behind it.

“There's also that.” The guard says, cringing. “We heard her scream…”

It's such an absurd thing to say that for a second Xunfeng thinks he heard it wrong. But the seconds tick by with only the storm expressing an opinion while the guards try very hard not to shy away from Xunfeng's stare.

“You heard your queen scream and decided to stand here?” He finally asks, incredulous.

Coming from behind him, Weilin tries to peek inside the room but while the door is ajar the heavy curtains behind it are closed.

“These are her personal quarters,” another guard answers, nonsensically and clearly less sensible if he thinks back-talk is what Xunfeng is after. “The queen dismissed the maids and said she was going to take a bath…”

Another clap of thunder muffles Xunfeng’s cursing as he pushes past the gathered guards and into the bedroom, pushing the door shut behind himself.

At first Xiao Lanhua is nowhere to be seen. The room looks normal, lived in but decently organized. The bed is made and there’s a dress draped over the changing screen, jewelry spread on the vanity and thriving potted plants on most surfaces. One window is open a crack and the stormy wind makes the curtains look alive. 

When Xunfeng finally spots her, it’s by following quiet sniffling sounds and catching sight of the crown of a head peeking over the far side of the bed. When he walks over, Xiao Lanhua is sitting on the floor, knees hugged tightly and hair still loose and wet. When lightning flashes outside of the window she sobs, completely unaware of his presence until he speaks.

“What’s wrong with you?”

She startles violently at the sound of his voice, looking up with eyes wide and red. At least that account from the useless guards was true, Xiao Lanhua has been crying for hours - she looks quite pathetic, barely dressed and wet like an alley kitten. 

“Xunfeng,” she sniffles. “What… Why are you here?”

Xunfeng remembers vaguely that she had been scared of a thunderstorm his brother used to torment her, but back then her response had been to get right back at him and not curl in a corner and weep. With a defeated sigh, he moves away to shut the window and close all curtains before sitting down at the edge of the mattress beside where she is on the floor.

“I got dragged out of bed because you scared some spineless guards,” he complains. “You might as well tell me what happened.”

Xiao Lanhua drops her head to her knees again, shoulders shaking for a long while before she speaks.

“I miss him so much. All day. Everyday.” Her voice is thin and a little hoarse. “It’s all I can think about. I sit here and it feels like he’ll walk in at any moment and there’s nowhere I can go that lets me escape…”

Regardless of their bad past and shaky relationship, it’s still painful to hear her sound so distraught. The pain must really be unbearable for Xiao Lanhua to even consider opening up to him like that. She asked for help once already and Xunfeng knows that costs a lot - he begrudgingly admires her willingness to push through the struggle of reaching out after repeated betrayal.

Because he sympathizes, because he also doesn’t dare sit at the towering throne, Xunfeng awkwardly lays a hand on Xiao Lanhua’s wet hair and pats her like one would a skittish beast.

“Rest.” With a snap of his fingers, the storm is muffled enough that the only sounds in the room are the crackling fireplace and Xiao Lanhua’s ragged breathing. “Be up early tomorrow, I have something to show you.”

The painting’s varnish is yellowed with time but the picture is exactly as Xunfeng remembers. A sharp faced woman standing straight and tall, wearing rich clothes and a braid adorned with wood charms that hangs down to her hips. The artist captured the light in her large eyes perfectly, making her seem alert even as mere ink. 

Standing beside Xunfeng, Xiao Lanhua seems just as awed at the familiar features looking down on them.

“Lady Yang came from a noble house in the north, that’s all I know about her. Father told me she visited me a couple of times, but I was too young to remember. I don’t know what happened to her.” 

Xunfeng never really cared to find out either. By the time he was old enough to understand, his hatred of his brother already had deep roots. He wonders if his brother would be grateful if they restored the painting to its full, bright colors. If he even remembered the woman.

“We were both mostly raised by nurses and teachers.”

Xiao Lanhua looks away from the painting not long after, turning her curiosity onto Xunfeng. He brought her here as a hopefully discreet ploy to lessen her distress - Xiao Lanhua always thrived in getting on everyone’s business and feeding her this little bit of information about Dongfang Qingcang was the only way Xunfeng could think of to shake away her depressive moods.

“What about your mother?”

“A scout in the army. I was born in the palace, but she went back to the camps soon after.” Xunfeng steps back from the wall too, picking a dressing table to explore. 

Suddenly he’s curious about what they could glean from old abandoned belongings, if anything. If there was anything left over from this long lost woman that tied her to her son besides the face. The furniture is stripped bare, but there are locked chests and a locked wardrobe, and a couple of aged trinkets lost inside the dressing table’s drawers. 

“You never really knew her, then? Your mother.” Xiao Lanhua’s voice has an edge of somberness that pulls at the corners of Xunfeng’s mouth.

He makes sure to face her when he sits on the faded padded bench in front of the dresser.

“We had as much of a relationship as the circumstances allowed. Met on occasion, more frequently after I joined the army for training.” He knows he looks a lot like her and that the inelegant, scrappy way of fighting that he could never really shake off was something he picked up from her at the edges of campfire light.  “She taught me what she could, whenever she was around. We got along well.”

Dongfang Qingcang never minded if Xunfeng spent time with his mother, and she was an interesting woman with the teeth-grinding stubborness of the tribe, so he tried to do so. If Xunfeng cared to stop and think about it, he could miss her. He doesn't take the time.

Xiao Lanhua’s eyes are round and huge, clearly caught off-guard by the lack of a tragic backstory. It’s a joy to crack her worldview - there are no excuses for Xunfeng’s disagreeable personality, no tragedy she can use to justify his actions. Some people are simply not nice, but by now Xunfeng is pretty sure she will simply never learn that.

“What happened to her?” Xiao Lanhua perches on the edge of the bare bed frame, still digging.

“Shuiyuntian. Same as everyone else.”

Xunfeng doesn’t really hate XiaoLanhua. Too many years of exposure dulled his anger into mild distaste - not enough that he doesn’t enjoy the way she’s suddenly floundering in the face of his gruesome honesty, but enough that he doesn’t relish in her actual suffering. Xiao Lanhua already struggles with the cruelty of her homeland, even after being on the receiving end of it, there’s no need to give the details.

“If you want to fix up the place, you can stay here from now on.” The room is not exactly unkempt but it is abandoned. Xunfeng now knows why Dongfang Qingcang never cared about honoring his late mother, but it’s a waste of a well positioned set of rooms . “I don’t think Lady Yang would mind her daughter taking over.”

That is the wrong thing to say, because it immediately snaps Xiao Lanhua out of her guilty state and makes her all bright again. The sudden enthusiasm is a sharp contrast to the dark shadows under her eyes.

“Oh, so you consider me family!” She exclaims, almost tipping off the edge of the bed. “Am I your sister then?”

Xunfeng smiles at her in the same way that often got him punched in his youth but felt just too good to avoid, too ingrained in his personality.

“I will push you off a corridor and cry when the sea spits your body back out,” he says, sweetly.

That makes Xiao Lanhua laugh, loud and clear, and he’s suddenly aware of how many years have passed since he last heard that infuriating sound.

“No you won't,” she says, wiping at her eyes. “You wouldn't cry.”

“Your funeral will be exquisite.”

Watching her choke on her almost hysterical giggles brings him the weirdest sense of accomplishment.

“Xunfeng!”

The shrill cry doesn’t even make him flinch, much less stops the well aimed strike that lands on the foul man. Regretfully it’s the last, because Xiao Lanhua rushes in to stand between Xufeng and the minister cowering on the floor.

“What is happening here?” She demands, at least not as naive as to actually help the one she’s defending without some more context.

“Why don’t you tell her?” Xunfeng walks around her to pull the man up by the clothes, forcing him to his knees in front of Xiao Lanhua. “Go on, tell the queen exactly what you came here to tell me.”

The minister simpers quietly through bloodied lips. The side of his cheek is already bruising, red pin pricks where Xunfeng’s ring pierced skin. More than deserved for this kind of disrespect.

“There’s no insult that would warrant this…” Xiao Lanhua looks extremely uncomfortable, eyes flying from the battered minister to Xunfeng.

“You were so happy when you came here,” Xunfeng keeps a heavy hand on the man’s shoulder, jostling him when he doesn’t obey. “Tell her.”

He’s angry enough that there’s little to no satisfaction in either the minister’s cowering or Xiao Lanhua’s discomfort. The minister trembles under his hand, trying to find a better way to put his earlier words and not set off Xunfeng’s anger once more.

“I was simply congratulating my lord.” 

“On what, exactly?” Xunfeng presses, the back of his mouth tasting bitter. So many different emotions press on him that he can’t even properly process, only lash out like he hasn’t done in many, many decades.

Xiao Lanhua seems to notice something simmering under the anger, because her attention slowly turns more focused, heavier, on the man kneeling at her feet. Her expression shifts into something calm but expectant, the visage of a goddess not many had to witness, and for some reason it settles Xunfeng slightly. 

“I was simply congratulating His Highness Xunfeng,” the man starts again, slower and more deliberate, as if looking at Xiao Lanhua’s face changed his perspective. “On finally being done claiming his late brother’s place.”

There’s an underlying tone of disdain to the words, but Xunfeng is too busy watching Xiao Lanhua, paying attention to the minute shifts in her expression. Her quiet is reassuring even if she doesn’t look in his direction, all her attention still on the bleeding man.

“I don’t understand,” Xiao Lanhua says, mildly. “Xunfeng has been acting as Moon Supreme for nearly two hundred years. One would think that he has, as you put it, claimed his brother’s place a long time ago.”

Xunfeng notices the exact moment the minister decides that the disrespect he showed for the Moon Queen in private is indeed fit for public consumption. The man’s stance moves into something straighter, prouder, and something shifts in Xiao Lanhua’s eyes. Something familiar, the crack that comes just before true anger. Or bad decisions.

“And now he finally decided to be a man and take the fairy bitch too.”

On instinct, Xunfeng takes his hand off the man the moment he finishes speaking. Over thirty thousand years weren’t enough to forget the dreadful feeling of catching the tail end of Dongfang Qingcang’s swift executions, but it doesn’t happen. There’s no crackle of magic, no sudden movement. Xiao Lanhua only stands there with her eyebrows raised. Then she meets Xunfeng’s eyes for a second and sighs.

“That was… extremely rude.” She tells the minister. “I am sure you see why, but just in case, let’s give you some time and space to think. Xunfeng, Shangque is just outside, could you please call him for me?”

Xunfeng walks out on shaky legs, the sudden rush of emotion leaving him a little light headed. The blinding anger is more than familiar, but in a short string of words that wretched man hit so many enraging things that he couldn’t think until Xiao Lanhua interrupted them, until he realized that she was going to listen and understand.

That whatever came out of that guy’s mouth wasn’t going to change this tentative thing they built and Xunfeng didn’t even notice becoming so… relevant.

It doesn’t take him long at all to find Shangque moving down the corridor and call him back, but when the minister is marched out of the room he has a distant, somewhat disturbed look in his eyes. Xiao Lanhua is still standing in the same place, her hands held loosely together at her front, watching the scene with the same mild expression she had through most of the confrontation.

“Whatever you told him, I will still punish him in any way I see fit,” Xunfeng warns her as soon as they are alone.

“Thank you for defending my honor,” she answers.

Feeling suddenly exhausted, he drops on one of the side chairs meant for visitors. There’s still blood drying on his ring, opaque against glassy shine, but he resists dragging the sharp edges against his clothes.

“What kind of authority figure I’d be, letting people disrespect my own sister in my own home,” he mumbles, annoyed at the headache building ache behind his eyes.

When he looks up, Xiao Lanhua is clearly biting her cheek to keep her smile within an acceptable degree of smugness. She’s fails.