Chapter Text
There had been so many loose ends to tie up within the Jinyuan Alliance in the wake of dealing with Jiao Liqiao and Shan Gudao that Di Feisheng had barely known where to begin. All he’d known was that he wanted to do it as quickly as possible and leave the tedious day to day running of it to someone else and get back to Li Xiangyi.
One night in bed with him and already you’re so desperate for more, he chides himself, as he walks down a bare winter woodland road, dusk fast drawing in around him. Soon he will have his wish.
He has no further use for his richly decorated rooms in the Alliance's headquarters, any more than he desires the power running it has given him. They’ve never actually mattered to him, if he is honest. They are just a place he’s slept, no more or less than that. There has never been a sense of home or welcome about them. There’s no place like that for him in this world, there never has been, or at least none that he can remember.
No, what he wants now is a much smaller, simpler bed. One that is to be found in a ridiculous wheeled house, along with its often equally ridiculous owner. At this point even having sex in it is an optional extra.
Di Feisheng stops walking for a moment and leans against a tree. Vision blurring slightly for a moment as a wave of exhaustion hits him.
What he really needs is sleep.
Falling unconscious due to passing so much of his energy to Li Xiangyi had hardly been restful. Nor have any of the nights since contained anything that might be considered real sleep.
Every sound, no matter how small, has startled him awake each time he’s tried to rest in his old rooms. It’s not even nightmares that keep him from sleep. It’s that he can’t switch off. The fear that if he lets his guard down he’ll be caught, he’ll be trapped and chained, his mind controlled and even his body no longer his own, burn through his veins every time he closes his eyes.
It’s not rational. He knows that. Not that it seems to make any difference. He has weeded out those loyal to Jiao Liqiao and made sure they were disposed of in a manner that would hopefully prevent anyone considering going against him in future.
He knows he should have been safe there. He had been for years. Master Di is dead now. Jiao Liqiao is also. All those who sort to trap him are. Yet still he’s too alert. His body is still ready for a battle that has long since been fought.
Nothing seems to ease the tension thrumming in his veins. Not that he’s tried everything. Perhaps there is some concoction that the Medicine Demon could give him to knock him out for a few hours or simply drinking wine in large enough quantities might do the job. Yet to make himself that vulnerable is a step too far. At least at the moment. Give a few more days with no rest or relief then perhaps he’ll be desperate enough to try it.
Even trying to sleep away from the Alliance hasn’t really worked. Yes, he’d slept for four hours straight, the best he’s managed in weeks. However the nightmare which had woken him from that much needed rest had been a bloody, visceral thing, that had left him emptying his stomach across the inn floor. It had been so horrifically real and so hard to immediately disprove, that he’s avoided trying to sleep at all since.
It’s been only a couple of days since that night, Di Feisheng tells himself. For someone as skilled as himself, his internal energy is more than enough to sustain him for a far greater period of time. He pointedly ignores the fact that he’s already been doing just that for almost two weeks.
It’s all done now however, he tells himself, pushing away from the temporary support the tree had offered. He’s all but cut his ties with the Jinyuan Alliance. He’s nothing but a figurehead should his presence be required.
He stands still for a moment and listens to anything that might be around him. There are no other sounds but the wind in mostly bare branches above and the faint patter of rain that has just started to fall. Reassured that there is no hidden danger, Di Feisheng continues down the winding woodland road that leads to where he knows that the Lotus Tower is parked.
He’d sent Wuyan to check up on him following the showdown with Shan Gudao. Even if he couldn’t remain by Li Xiangyi’s side in the immediate aftermath, he had been determined to not lose track of him. If he looked like needing him, Wuyan had been instructed to light a flare and no matter where he was, Di Feisheng would come as fast as he could.
Instead all he had received was fairly inconsequential information. Little updates such as Li Xiangyi had cooked something so incredibly inedible that Fang Duobing had taken the cooking pot containing it and thrown it into the woods. Or how they’d started repairs on a leaky section of roof on the Lotus Tower and they’d spilled pine resin all over one of the flower beds. Just how soaked they’d got trying to give Fox Spirit a bath after he’d got covered in mud.
There had also been more serious news in that Li Xiangyi had visited Sigu Sect. And that while he was there he’d saved the life of Yun Biqiu - both from execution and from the Snowmaster’s poison.
Personally, Di Feisheng doesn’t know why Li Xiangyi bothered. He’d have let the traitor die a miserable death. Admittedly dealing with Jiao Liqiao, as well as lying to her repeatedly and successfully for a number of years, knowing how painfully he’d die if she ever found out the truth, had taken guts. He still doesn’t like him. He can’t think of any circumstance where he might. Yun Biqiu had been the one to give Li Xiangyi the poison that had very nearly cost him his life, and for that he can never ever forgive him.
Wuyan had reported too how tired Li Xiangyi had looked afterwards, and how he’d refused to stay at the Sigu Sect and rest, returning to his Lotus Tower instead.
He’d learnt too that Li Xiangyi and Fang Duobing had been summoned to the capital to see the Emperor soon afterwards. Perhaps not all that surprising, given that Fang Duobing is technically still engaged to the Princess, but he’d found it oddly unsettling all the same.
He hasn’t received word that they are back at the Lotus Tower yet, but their arrival must be imminent, as the last update he’d had was that they had left the capital, apparently by carriage.
Perhaps he should have waited for them to return before recalling Wuyan, to find out just why they’d not just walked or ridden. However Wuyan is the one of the few he’s been able to trust absolutely, so now he is the leader of the Jinyuan Alliance in all but name. Technically he is supposed to check in on major decisions with Di Feisheng before carrying them out, in practice they have the understanding that, unless it’s something of world altering importance, he isn’t to bother him.
For the first time that Di Feisheng can truly remember, he is absolutely free. He can go anywhere, choose any life he wants, and do whatever pleases him. And he’s made his choices. He’ll go to the Lotus Tower, and choose to live there on whatever terms Li Xiangyi will agree to, and do…well there are many things he wants to do to Li Xiangyi.
Li Xiangyi back to his full health and power, writhing beneath him lost in the throes of passion, loud, filthy moans on his lips as sucks on his fingers. Imaginings such as this have helped pass the long nights when other far less pleasant thoughts have tried to press in.
With all his business with the Jinyuan Alliance finished, he makes his way to the Lotus Tower, stopping earlier only to pick up wine and food for later. He has money and no better things to spend it on. There is also the fact that he doesn’t want to be subjected to whatever Li Xiangyi might decide to serve up and which Fang Duobing will no doubt try to bait him into eating.
Yes, he could eat it and have the taste not bother him - he’s eaten much worse in the past to survive. What he doesn’t particularly want is having to hide the upset stomach that might well go with it. Especially not, if while trying to sleep, the incident at the inn is repeated.
It won’t be. Di Feisheng tells himself, refusing to let this or the cold drizzle falling about him dampen his mood. Just as soon as he’s with Li Xiangyi, even if he has to share his company with Fang Duobing, he’ll be able to relax. Even when he had no idea who he was he’d felt safe there, so surely this time will be no different.
The Lotus Tower is parked just off the road. The horses unhitched so they can drink and graze. Yet the horses are the only sign of activity. There’s no table and chairs set outside, no smoke or steam coming from the kitchen inside to indicate cooking.
It’s too quiet.
If they were still away in the capital the horses would be stabled somewhere, not tethered outside where they could be stolen by any passing traveller or injured by wild animals.
There’s a sudden movement at the steps at the side of the tower and he freezes, concealing himself from them.
Fang Duobing walks outside, Guan Heming following him to stand at the foot of the steps. While Fox Spirit lays quietly in the doorway, not nosing at them for treats.
Suspicion and fear coil in his chest. Everything about what he is seeing screams that something is very very wrong. It’s force of habit that drives Di Feisheng to hide his presence, knowing that otherwise Fang Duobing will feel his energy.
Li Xiangyi must be inside, he tells himself as he moves closer, still keeping the cover of the trees. Yet there is no sign that’s true. There is no sign of him at all.
He looks tired. Worse still, Di Feisheng notices, Fang Duobing looks sad. His eyes are red enough to suggest tears have recently been shed.
Fang Doubing glances back into the Lotus Tower. It’s dark and still, but for a single dim lamp near the door. “If I’d known what he was going to do, I’d never have left him alone.”
The breath catches in Di Feisheng’s throat, his severely sleep deprived mind both rebelling and focusing on the absolute worst possible interpretation of those words.
It can’t be damning as it sounds, yet no better interpretation comes to him. Instead, the image of Li Xiangyi collapsed and weeping in the wedding chamber, asking why they cannot let him go, fills his mind. A still, limp body cradled in his arms, cold lips turning blue.
No. Please, no. Anything but that. He wouldn’t. Not after all this. He…
He sees Guan Heming put a hand on Duobing’s arm. An attempt at comfort. As if anything could give them that now.
Di Feisheng closes his eyes, the increasingly heavy drizzle running across his face, falling like tears he’s yet to shed. He can’t do this. He can’t have been this close to what feels like the first true happiness of his life to have it ripped away now.
Yet why not? Wasn’t that what happened with both his apparent victory over Li Xiangyi ten years before? Isn’t it what also happened when he finally ended Master Di? Isn’t that what happens to him over and over again?
There can be no reward, no moment of softness, no happiness. Not for him. Not then. Not now. Not ever.
The breath that had caught in his throat doesn’t seem to want to release, and Di Feisheng presses a hand against his chest. It feels constricted, a tight band across it, that’s growing tighter, choking him.
They’re still talking, but he can’t hear them over the sound of his own racing pulse in his ears. He’s got to get away. If he doesn’t hear it then it won't be true. It makes no sense, but he doesn’t want reality right now.
He strikes at his chest, hard enough to bruise, a pained gasp escaping him. He forces a breath in, too shallow to really give him enough air. He tries again. Too short and still too shallow, it barely alleviates the feeling of slow suffocation. Worse, it drives the panic racing through him still higher, his heart starting to race, as it attempts to compensate for the lack of air.
He’s got to get away. He has to find somewhere safe and hidden from those who will exploit this moment of weakness. He can never let his guard down. He can never be weak. They always found him. Always dragged him back. They always will. Is he never going to be free?
Dizzy, increasingly faint and disoriented, he stumbles away through the wet, rapidly darkening woodland, staggering from tree to tree, fingers catching the rough bark for support.
There is no safe place left. No one he can rely on. No one he can run to. No one to save him. No one who-
His foot catches on an exposed root, and Di Feisheng falls, sprawling in the wet leaves and mud. Pain flares first where his ankle has twisted sharply over, then white hot where his left wrist is bent back beneath him, taking much of the impact of the fall.
He curls round over it, a last futile act to try and protect it and himself from further harm. It had never mattered back in those cells in the Di Fortress. It didn’t matter if he’d been silent or cried or screamed. If he lay still and took it or if he fought back. It didn’t matter, because he didn’t matter. He’s never mattered. Not to anyone.
Which isn’t true.
There was someone. Someone who had saved him, who’d wanted him to live, who cared that he was hurt or sick. Someone who had truly looked at him, had known him, had known the person he’d never dared show anyone else and hadn’t turned away.
And now they are gone.
Whether it's the deepening night, exhaustion or even death he can no longer tell or even summon the energy to care. Eyes closing, Di Feisheng stops fighting for air and lets the darkness take him.
--
“Fox Spirit! Where are you?”
Di Feisheng comes round to the sound of Fang Duobing’s voice calling out in the cold and dark, and Fox Spirit’s answering bark.
The bark is far closer and before Di Feisheng can gather his thoughts or even think about trying to sit up, the dog bounds over to him.
Leaping about him for a moment, tail wagging, Fox Spirit sniffs the now rain-soaked bag of food that Di Feisheng had brought for them all to share.
When no treats from the bag are forthcoming, Fox Spirit barks again, presumably in the hope that Fang Duobing will come and open the bag.
And why not? Who else is there left to give treats to him?
“Shut up.” His voice is hoarse, throat aching from the misery coiled up inside him. He doesn’t want anyone to see him like this. Especially not Fang Duobing. He’s far too much of a bleeding heart in Di Feisheng’s opinion. Having all that well meaning concern directed toward him in Li Xiangyi’s absence will, he is certain, end up breaking them both.
However there is no realistic prospect of not being discovered, so Di Feisheng struggles to a seated position, leaning back against the tree for support. The wrist that had taken the brunt of his fall throbs despite the numbing cold - the earlier rain having turned now to a bitter wintery sleet.
While there is no longer the feeling of an iron band about his chest denying him breath, he is still dizzy and disoriented. The trees illuminated by the lantern Fang Duobing is carrying, wavering in and out of focus as he approaches.
“Fox Spirit, what’s got into-“ he stops, having seen what has drawn the dog’s attention. “A-Fei! What are you doing here? What happened?”
I don’t know any more, doesn’t seem like an answer anyone would accept, so Di Feisheng doesn’t say it.
Even though he knows that Fang Duobing won’t cause him harm, he can’t bear to be weak in front of anyone right now. The deep well of internal energy that he’s cultivated answers slow and sluggish as he calls on it, as frozen and exhausted as the rest of him. It has taken the place of rest and all too often food as well over the past couple of weeks.
It helps.Not much as he would like, but it will have to do. It’s a deep well, but not inexhaustible. The worst of the dizziness recedes to something he can ignore, while the shivers from the bone deep cold are ruthlessly suppressed. It does nothing for the rawness of his nerves or the hollow feeling in his chest.
Fang Duobing waits for a moment, then when Di Feisheng hasn’t answered, he leans in, the lantern obnoxiously close so he can get a better look. “You’re soaked! Are you hurt?”
Di Feisheng pushes at the light, irritated by its presence. It takes far more coordination and effort than it should to push the offending lantern away. “Leave.”
“I’m not leaving you out here. You make yourself sick.” Fang Duobing holds out a hand to assist him to his feet. “It’s freezing, Li Lianhua’s sure it’s going to snow tonight.”
Tonight? Hope flares as bright as the lantern in the dark, dismal night. “When? When did he say that?”
“Does it matter? It’s too cold already. Let’s go inside first”
“Tell me.” It doesn’t feel like any question, any answer has ever mattered more.
“An hour or two ago.”
“He’s alive? I heard…” Di Feisheng falters, so lightheaded that passing out again feels like a distinct possibility. Really, what had he heard?
“Of course he is. Why…” Fang Duobing stops, then bounces a hand off his forehead. “You mean what happened with the Emperor? You know that wasn’t real, don’t you?”
“He’s alive?” he repeats, his heart still lurches like it’s forgotten how to maintain a proper rhythm. Whether it’s elation at the news, some kind of delayed shock or a combination of being exhausted and half frozen, he doesn’t know.
“It was only to fool him.” He offers him a hand up again, not withdrawing, and finally reaching down and just grabbing Di Feisheng’s arm instead, and hauling him to his feet. “I didn’t even know what he was planning until afterwards, I thought…You’re freezing! How long have you been out here?”
It’s a good question and one that he doesn’t have an answer to. Before he can tell Fang Duobing that it’s none of his business, his ankle shifts slightly on the wet, slippery leaves underfoot, giving a warning twinge of pain. It’s unpleasant, but it’s bearable. However, walking on it and keeping his balance is likely to require a little assistance. Pushing Duobing away isn’t going to be an option. So Di Feisheng settles on asking him, “What time is it?”
“You don’t know?” There is definitely some worry in Fang Duobing’s tone now. “It’s about nine.”
It had been dusk, about five, when he’d arrived, when he’d heard… He shakes his head, trying to clear it. Four hours he’s laid exposed and defenceless out in the open. Careless. Far too careless. Anyone could have found him.
The grip Fang Duobing has on him tightens, keeping him on his feet. “Have you hit your head or something? You’ve not lost your memories again have you?”
“No.” Although maybe losing the memory of believing he lost Li Xiangyi would be a blessing. He’s got enough nightmares as it is. He trusts Fang Duobing wouldn’t lie that he’s alive, but he needs to see for himself. Nothing less will truly ease his fears. “Where is he?”
“In bed, asleep.” Fang Duobing tone turns firmer. “So don’t dare wake him up and start arguing with him or wanting him to fight.”
“Why?” What if he’s sick again. What if after all this it hadn’t truly worked? What if he’s still dying? What if…
“He’s exhausted, and Guan Hemeng has had his needles in him for half the day, trying to off set his stupid stunt that-”
Di Feisheng doesn’t wait for him to finish. “What did he do to himself?”
There’s something in Fang Duobing’s expression that is still hurt and angry. Which means whatever Li Xiangyi had done had been awful and spectacularly stupid even by his standards. Which would mean it was substantially worse than his old trick of drugging Fang Duobing and leaving him at the roadside or even when previously lied about being cured.
Fang Duobing is too soft, and Li Xiangyi too harsh in his methods of trying to be kind, yet somehow they make it work.
“He fooled the Emperor.”
Part of him doesn’t want to know the details, but the part that has had enough of the half truths and of being kept in the dark wins, and he prompts irritably, “And?”
“He lied. Again. He carried out his awful plan and let me think he was-” Fang Duobing stops, not wanting to say it aloud. “He thought I wouldn’t be convincing enough if I knew he was going to survive. He didn’t want me implicated in it.”
Letting Fang Duobing believe he was dead or dying was just about the cruellest thing Li Xinagyi could have done. Really it was hard to think of anything that might have been worse, unless perhaps not even leaving a body to mourn was an option.
Did he not realise, Di Feisheng thinks, he would have turned Duobing into a haunted man. One mourning the past instead of living, just as Li Xiangyi had done over Shan Gudao’s body, before the awful truth had come to light? He’d call him Xiaobao, his little treasure, in one breath and do something like this in the next.
“A-Fei? Did you hear anything I said?” He shakes him, surprisingly carefully, given how they usually treat each other. “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?”
Di Feisheng shrugs off his concern, although not the arm that is helping him keep his balance. “It’s too cold here. Let’s leave.”
The ground is slippery, the icy rain and wet leaves turning it treacherous underfoot, so that even with Fang Duobing holding onto his arm, Di Feisheng isn’t entirely certain he’ll keep his balance. As even though it isn’t far back to the Lotus Tower, his ankle burns with each step, the joint painfully loose and unstable, when any pressure is put on it. While the freezing rain and sleet has soaked through everything he is wearing, making it heavy and icy against his skin.
Finally,and without any mishap, they arrive at their destination. The lantern light glowing warmly out from the Lotus Tower, welcoming them safely home on a bitter night.