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“Look, Ming-xiong!” Shi Qingxuan joyfully grabbed his arm. “Fireflies!”
He Xuan looked where he pointed. Small points of light danced in the darkness, blinking in and out. “They’re insects,” he said flatly.
“How unromantic, Ming-xiong! They’re beautiful. And they’re putting in so much effort to dance for us! Just watch them.”
Shi Qingxuan leaned familiarly against He Xuan’s side; He Xuan could feel the warmth of his body.
“I’ve always loved fireflies, ever since I was little,” he said quietly. “I remember one time when I was a child. It was after—after something very scary happened. I was cold and crying. My brother pulled me close and held me until I was warm. He said, ‘Listen, A-Xuan. You don’t have to be afraid of anything. Your big brother will always be here with you to look after you. I have to study very hard right now, and when you’re a little older you have to study hard too. Then we can both ascend as gods. Do you know what a god is? There are some people who are very special, like fireflies shining in the dark. A god is someone who has become special and powerful enough to shine, no matter what happens. When we’re gods, we will shine with light and no darkness will be able to come near us.’ And ever since I ascended,” he added cheerfully, “I’ve tried to make things a little brighter everywhere!” He laughed gaily. “Some of the gods try to get away with some very shady stuff, but I don’t let them. Even if it’s my brother’s friends.”
He Xuan watched the flickering of the fireflies. To him, their brief light reminded him more of the ephemeral and unhappy lives of mortals, the snuffing-out of hope. What would Shi Qingxuan think, he wondered ironically, if he knew just how his brother protected him and how shady he really was?
He Xuan had untangled another case of Shi Wudu’s wrongdoing just that day. He had clones all over the Heavens, but the most in the Palace of Ling Wen. He had become adept at skimming through her records to find signs of something suspicious. A few decades after Shi Qingxuan’s ascension, a new goddess of the Spring Winds ascended to the Heavens. Yet He Xuan had never heard her name nor read any accounts of her. She had unluckily lost most of her senior priesthood in a shipwreck, the records said in Ling Wen’s neat handwriting; worshippers took it as a bad omen, and after that her divine power had gradually dwindled away until nothing was left.
He Xuan knew the patterns of a divine cover-up by now. Looking at the records, he was certain that Shi Wudu had had a hand in the matter. It took He Xuan some intensive research, and going even more into debt to that brat Hua Cheng, but eventually he had a ghost to interrogate: a former junior priest of the Spring Winds goddess, who had left her temple when things became too difficult. The former priest had never been able to recover his wealth or social position and died dissatisfied, full of resentment.
A threatening interrogation had yielded the story: When the former priest joined, the temple was flourishing. After a while, the head priest wanted to expand into another city, located across the bay. He entered into negotiations to buy a piece of land for a new temple. But the noble family who had power there put up one objection after another, and finally they insisted on meeting with the head priest and all the most senior priests in person, in order to feel they were being properly honored. The priests bought their passage on a ship, which unexpectedly sank with no survivors.
The remaining priests had their hands full running their own temple, and could no longer think of pursuing the land deal. In addition, the head priest had been the most charismatic and energetic of their order; it was hard to keep things going without him. As if that weren’t enough, all the merchants in the neighborhood greatly raised their prices for food, incense, cloth for robes, and everything else the temple needed. The remaining priests did their best, but the temple gradually became more run down and the priests’ robes more ragged.
The goddess’s followers had been deeply shocked by the death of so many high-ranking priests. No one wanted to follow a god who couldn’t even protect her own priesthood. Once the temple began to decline in fortunes, both followers and priests fell away. The goddess no longer had the power to grant prayers. Finally, she disappeared altogether; even her name was forgotten except in dusty, long-neglected records of Ling Wen.
It was clear to He Xuan what had happened. Shi Wudu was unwilling to risk a close competitor to his brother so soon after he ascended as Wind Master. Merchants, who relied on the sea to transport their goods, and noble families who wanted to buy luxuries were within Shi Wudu’s sphere of influence. The Water Tyrant sank a ship, drowning the innocent passengers and crew as well as his targets. And Shi Qingxuan, for whom such crimes were committed, was allowed to remain innocent and know nothing.
He Xuan would not bring his evidence to the Heavenly Court; he already knew there was no justice to be found in the Heavens. But he would preserve it carefully, in case it gave him some leverage against Shi Wudu in the future.
Shi Qingxuan was still leaning against He Xuan’s side, warm and trusting. “It’s such a beautiful night,” he gushed. “I’m so lucky to be here with my best friend!”
“Who’s your best friend?” He Xuan said flatly.
Shi Qingxuan laughed merrily. He took out his fan and waved it. The wind swirled over the ground, leaving words written in free yet elegant calligraphy. Ming-xiong is Shi Qingxuan’s best friend forever!
What nonsense, He Xuan thought. But for some reason he didn’t say it aloud or tilt the earth to wipe out the words.
Suddenly, Shi Qingxuan darted in and pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth. “I’m lucky to have met you, Ming-xiong!” His bright eyes looked up at He Xuan.
He Xuan had no skill in seduction, but he thought if he leaned in to kiss Shi Qingxuan now, Shi Qingxuan would allow it.
He Xuan did not. Was it loyalty to his long-dead beloved, whose face was fading in his memory? It surely was not pity towards his unwitting mark, his enemy’s brother, who would suffer more from the betrayal if He Xuan allowed love to grow.
Seeing He Xuan stand there stiffly, Shi Qingxuan laughed too brightly and fanned himself. “You’re always so serious, Ming-xiong! I just wanted to tease you. You’re not angry, are you?”
“As if I weren’t used to your nonsense by now,” He Xuan muttered.
Shi Qingxuan laughed again, this time with relief. “Do you know what I heard the other day, Ming-xiong?” And he was off, sharing the details of some gossip.
He Xuan let it wash over him. Behind Shi Qingxuan, the fireflies still sent their brief light into the dark.
After obtaining his revenge, He Xuan had always expected to fade away. His resentment was what tied him to the world as a ghost; with his goal obtained, he had no remaining bonds. He buried his family’s ashes in a secret place where they could rest in peace, then knelt and waited for nothingness to take him.
It didn’t. He felt as strong as ever, in no danger of fading. He looked at the altar, where he had placed two broken fans. Shi Wudu’s fan should remain broken; that was only right. But the sight of the Wind Master’s broken fan disturbed him somehow; it prickled in his mind like a burr. Despite himself, his mind conjured up image after image of the fan in Shi Qingxuan’s hand: waved gracefully, controlling the winds, adding emphasis to a gesture. Well. The fan was beautiful; it would make a better offering to his family if it were whole. It would give him something to do.
When He Xuan at last held the repaired fan in his hands, he felt oddly hollow. Images of Shi Qingxuan rose in his mind again: laughing and dragging him into some absurdity; terrified and splashed with his brother’s blood. He Xuan ran his fingers gently over the fan. There were no debts remaining between him and Shi Qingxuan, he told himself. To forbear from further revenge against him, yet to refrain from giving him help; was that not justice?
Shi Wudu had won a measure of grudging respect from He Xuan at the end, once He Xuan’s rage cooled enough for him to realize what Shi Wudu had done. He Xuan had offered the brothers two alternatives: for Shi Qingxuan to kill his brother with his own hands, or for Shi Wudu to switch their fates with two of the most wretched, driven mad by their misfortunes. Shi Wudu had refused both and provoked He Xuan into killing him. By his death, Shi Wudu had hoped to spare his younger brother one last time.
He Xuan could have done anything he wanted to Shi Qingxuan, drawn out his suffering for years upon years. Instead, He Xuan had simply let him go with nothing. Shi Wudu’s death was sufficient, he told himself. It was surely not because Shi Qingxuan shrieked and recoiled at his approach; his enemy’s terror should not displease him. It was simply—enough.
He tossed the repaired fan down on the altar and swept from the room. (Yet when Crimson Rain called him to defend the capital, it felt right to place the Wind Master’s fan back in Shi Qingxuan’s hand.)
He Xuan held out for a few months before drawing an array to transport himself to the capital. It was nighttime. He moved silently and invisibly through the streets, a shadow among the shadows, hunting for Shi Qingxuan as he once had when he was the form of Shi Qingxuan’s nightmares.
He felt divine energy as he approached and took care to conceal his presence. He frowned as he saw Pei Ming, holding a palm torch, in conversation with Shi Qingxuan.
“Why are you being so stubborn, Qingxuan?” Pei Ming demanded. “You don’t have to live like this. Let me make you one of my deputies.”
Shi Qingxuan laughed. “A deputy to a martial god? I wouldn’t fit in well in your palace even before I broke this leg and arm of mine.”
Pei Ming’s frown deepened. “In whatever palace you like, then, Qingxuan. Ling Wen can write you a list, and you can take your pick.”
“The way she did for my brother, to help him switch my fate?”
“Qingxuan—”
“There’s no Qingxuan here. Only old Feng the beggar, haha!”
“Think of your brother. He wouldn’t want to see you like this.”
“My brother?” For the first time, Shi Qingxuan looked angry. “He was my brother and I loved him, but what he did can’t be excused. And don’t tell me you didn’t know about it! I enjoyed all the luxuries of the Heavens, at others’ expense. Believe me, General Pei, this life is better. From now on, I won’t accept anything I didn’t earn.”
“At least take this talisman. You can activate it if you’re in danger.”
Shi Qingxuan shook his head firmly. “Didn’t you hear what I said? Most people don’t have a god looking after them. And I’m happy like this. Return to the Heavens, General Pei.”
Pei Ming threw up his hands. “As you like. But you can always find one of my temples if you need help.”
“That’s generous of you, General Pei. But I won’t.”
Pei Ming didn’t know what to do in the face of such stubbornness. Finally he huffed out an annoyed breath and disappeared in a flash, going back up to the Heavens.
He Xuan silently followed Shi Qingxuan as he returned to the drafty barn the beggars had chosen to shelter in for the night. Though Shi Qingxuan’s limping pace was far unlike his former graceful steps, he seemed cheerful, humming to himself.
Shi Wudu was right in a way, He Xuan thought. Some people were special enough that they shone brightly in any circumstances. He gathered sparks of light in his hand and released them with a breath.
Shi Qingxuan gasped in delight. “Look, everyone! Fireflies!”