this changes everything. ⟲ wangxian

14. Coming

It is nighttime. Almost dawn. Ah Xian can't seem to sleep, though. He tosses and adjusts under the pale light of the moon, and after a long while just ends up staring up at it, his back straight. He pulls out a new bottle of liquor and takes reckless swigs.

"Rule 718. Alcohol is prohibited," Lan Zhan says.

Ah Xian takes larger swigs, his eyes clamped shut. He finally opens them to wipe sliding trails of liquid from his mouth and chin. The action is too familiar.

Ah Xian scoffs a laugh, staring hard at Lan Zhan, "Look at you—look at this..." He dabs at Lan Zhan's wet chin with the wrist of his robes. Lan Zhan doesn't tell him not to; he doesn't even realise that water has leaked down the side of his face, like it would a toddler. Ah Xian sneers, but a lingering warmth sizzles in his chest. "The Great Hanguang Jun—what are you, a baby? Are you three years old? What is this?"

Ah Xian laughs out loud.

He drinks again.

After almost all feeling has numbed in his fingers, his gaze slanting in and out of control, he grabs for Chenqing at his side and pulls it up to his face, "I should play something, shouldn't I, Little Apple? I know, I should.... I should..." he pauses. "Hey. I should play Lan Zhan's song!" He laughs. "You know? You know! The one without a name that he sang to me in the Tortoise of Slaughter's cave. The one that made him recognise me when I was still pretending to be Mo Xuanyu. The one that—the one that he made himself! Did you... did you know that? Did you know that Chief Cultivator Hanguang Jun had such a creative mind?"

Ah Xian draws the flute to his lips. He starts playing the tune that is ingrained into his heart. Although he is drunk, and lacks control of his body, for some reason his fingers remember the tune as well as his heart does; they hit every note at just the right time, in perfect pitch.

The flute's song rings into the night, echoing for a thousand years to come.

Lan Zhan, Ah Xian seems to say.

I'm coming.