Chapter Text
Shi Wudu paced up and down the docks, words spilling out of his mouth like a steady stream of water.
„Attend your daily lessons because I will check with your Shifu when I’m back. And make sure to do your physical exercises regularly; your leg will never get better if you keep slacking off like this. Don’t go out with that strange friend of yours, he’s a bad influence. No celebrations inside the palace, there are still stains on the walls from last time. Don’t stay out late, I made sure to instruct all the servants to lock the doors two gongs after sundown. Don’t sneak those sweets of yours into the palace, the–“
Shi Qingxuan dramatically snapped his fan shut and gave his brother an exasperated look.
“Gege! I know! You’ve told me four times and you’ve written it down twice. I will behave, and follow all your instructions, and I won’t break any rules. Don’t you have a conference to get to?”
“If I come back and find the palace in ruins, I will place your under house arrest for the rest of your life.”
“And where will I be kept, when the palace is gone?” Shi Qingxuan smiled sweetly and pushed his brother in the direction of the ship that was supposed to have set sail a while ago. “Stop worrying about me and start worrying about business relations. What will Ling Wen do to you if you’re late?”
That, at last, seemed to pull Shi Wudu away from this lecture only Shi Qingxuan was attending. “Stay out of trouble, Qingxuan. Be studious! Don’t–“
With one last gentle push, Shi Wudu finally set foot onto the Water Tyrant and the captain, who had been following the discussion with growing impatience, let out a relieved sigh. Shi Qingxuan waved his fan as the ship slowly departed from the docks. His brother looked like he was still yelling about something, but the words were carried away on the breeze before they could reach Shi Qingxuan’s ears. When the ship had turned into nothing more than a spec on the horizon, Shi Qingxuan let out a bubbling laugh.
Finally.
He had been looking forward to his brother’s departure to the conference for ages, as that would grant him one entire blissful month where he could do whatever he wanted. Well, not exactly everything he wanted, but at least there would be no one to reprimand his every move. Shi Wudu was stern, diligent, hardworking, and of the opinion that Shi Qingxuan possessed not even an inkling of those valuable traits. But that only served to encourage his attempts to change his younger brother’s entire character, doing his best to turn him into another version of himself. Unfortunately, Shi Qingxuan had no interest in taking over a shipping company. In fact, he had no interest in ships whatsoever. What he did have a passion for, was the finer things in life. Art, music, social gatherings, wine. Not that he would have ever admitted that in front of his brother – he rather liked his freedom, thank you very much.
And now he had one entire month of it, with no one there to check on him. He would have skipped back to the palace, had his leg allowed for it. But as it were, he settled for limping slightly faster than usual, his walking stick drumming a happy rhythm against the paved path. Shi Qingxuan had broken his leg over a year back and it still hadn’t healed. Apparently, the break was very uneven and would likely never fully recover. Shi Qingxuan didn’t care. He was good at adapting to new circumstances, and what was a little bit of a limp? If anything, it made him even more interesting. He could practically hear the gossip at one of the celebrations he so liked. Why does the pretty young brother of the wealthy Shi Wudu walk with a limp? Has he perhaps gotten into a fight? Shi Qingxuan smiled to himself, lost in thoughts while he made his way back to the palace. The smile lasted until he spied a figure standing on top of the stairs leading to the entrance.
“Young Master, there you are. Your lessons were supposed to start a few moments ago, your brother–“
“– has given very clear instructions on that,” Shi Qingxuan ended his Shifu’s sentence with a sigh. “Of course he has.”
“No need to look so crestfallen, he only wants what is best for you. Now, if you would follow me, we have five years of history to catch up on.”
Shi Qingxuan took his time with hopping up the stairs. At least his bad leg gave him an excuse to reduce the amount of time he had to listen to his Shifu babbling about nautical history.
-
Shi Qingxuan was on the run. Well, not literally of course, running wasn’t something he did anymore, so he was perhaps more on a hobble. But if he had to listen to one more word about profit calculations, his head was going to explode. And so, he had feigned an urgent need to relieve himself, and made his escape. He had about two, maybe three sticks of incense time before his Shifu would get suspicious, and so he limped through the hallways as fast as he could. Shi Qingxuan had never had any reason (or chance) to hide, so he had no idea where the most inconspicuous spots were in the palace. He briefly considered his own rooms, but that would be too obvious, right? Maybe the vast gardens? But there was too much open space, and he wasn’t exactly the fastest cripple around. Somewhere in the distance he heard yelling which sounded a lot like “Have you seen the young master?”
Shi Qingxuan’s heart sank – if he got caught now, not only would his lesson on finances continue, it would also be preceded by an extensive lecture on proper behaviour. And so he let instincts take over from reason, bolting through the door right next to him without paying attention to which room he was stumbling into. Breathing heavily, he leaned his back against the wooden door, straining his ears for any steps or agitated shouts from outside. But it remained quiet, and after a few moments Shi Qingxuan allowed himself to take a deep breath and relax his rigid body. He risked a quick look around and regretted it almost immediately as all his tension returned with a vengeance. He had never been to this room before, but he knew immediately what it was.
His brother’s personal office.
Shi Qingxuan snapped his fan open like an automatic defence mechanism. He wagged it viciously as if the breeze of air could somehow cool down his burning nerves. It seemed to work, and the first shock slowly drifted away on the current of air Shi Qingxuan was creating. The anxiety gradually left his system and excitement replaced the space it left behind. Usually, no one was allowed in his brother’s office, and the strict policy was enforced with a very sturdy lock. Why it was absent now of all times, Shi Qingxuan did not know, but he welcomed the unforeseen opportunity. As someone whose curiosity and tendency to gossip was known far and wide, things like perpetually locked doors were a subject of immense interest – even if those belonged to his very stern and strict brother.
Shi Qingxuan began to gingerly stroll around the vast room, stopping here and there to examine some maps or an intricate looking seafaring instrument. Much of the space was occupied by a huge desk that was covered over and over in paperwork and which Shi Qingxuan decidedly ignored, just as the bookshelves that covered the walls.
Instead, his eyes were drawn to a very large object in one of the corners. At first, he had thought it to be just another shelf, but closer observation revealed it to be something covered by a heavy piece of cloth. It took up even more space than the desk, and Shi Qingxuan approached almost automatically, always drawn to these kinds of mystery. He pressed his hand against the cloth – whatever was underneath was sturdy and unyielding. Slapping his closed fan against it produced a dull sound, muffled by the fabric. And so, Shi Qingxuan tugged. And then a bit harder, and harder still, until the heavy curtains finally relented and slid to the floor like flowing water.
Shi Qingxuan stared. Then he clasped his hands over his mouth to stifle his scream.
There, right in the esteemed Shi Wudu’s personal office, in the palace of the biggest shipping company of the realm, stood a giant glass basin with a corpse in it. The basin itself was nothing special; it was about Shi Qingxuan’s height and filled with crystal clear water that sloshed calmly against the glass walls. It would have passed as a slightly eccentric decorative element, were it not for the lifeless body that lay on its bottom.
Shi Qingxuan stumbled backwards; his walking stick clattered onto the floor and Shi Qingxuan followed. It was then that he noticed something even stranger (if that was at all possible – it wasn’t exactly normal to discover you brother had been keeping a preserved corpse in his room). The body’s legs seemed to be wrapped up in something, glimmering like black silk. Despite his better judgement, Shi Qingxuan crawled towards the basin again. From up close, he saw that it wasn’t silk at all – it looked rather hard, with an even texture to it. His brain needed a while to process what his eyes took in – then, Shi Qingxuan realised it were actually scales of a deep, saturated black, here and there interrupted by flecks of gleaming gold. Further down they seamlessly transitioned into something that looked alarmingly like a fin floating in the water, delicate and translucent. Shi Qingxuan swallowed. He had heard the legends and myths, of course he had, of a merfolk that inhabited the deepest depths of the ocean. But he had taken them for stories to tell young children, not for something he’d find proof of in his brother’s office.
Gathering up all his courage, Shi Qingxuan let his eyes travel further up, until scales turned into skin, pale and smooth, with an almost sickly-looking grey hue. The body was lean and sculpted, and every now and then a white scar disrupted the otherwise unblemished skin. When Shi Qingxuan’s eyes reached this creature’s face, his breath hitched in his throat. It was a harsh face, all angles and sharp edges, and even with the eyes closed (in sleep or death?) the brows were furrowed. But there was a beauty to it Shi Qingxuan had never seen before, mesmerising and unique. The face was framed by thick black hair that flowed through the water like liquid stands of ink. Almost involuntarily Shi Qingxuan got closer until his advanced was stopped by the layer of glass between him and the creature (Mermaid, a voice in Shi Qingxuan’s head provided, and he quickly shut it up).
He didn’t know for how long he had been staring, but all of a sudden and without any warning, the two eyes snapped open and instantly focused on Shi Qingxuan. For a moment, their gazes were locked on to each other, pale blue meeting deep gold; then Shi Qingxuan yelped and scrambled backwards, away from the piercing stare.
“I – I – I,” he stammered like the fool he obviously was.
The creature in the basin trashed with its tail, sending water sloshing over the edge of the glass and onto the expensive carpet. It pressed itself against the walls of the translucent prison and stared at Shi Qingxuan with wide eyes. Large hands splayed against the glass, fine webbing woven between the fingers, and Shi Qingxuan wondered dumbly how it might feel to the touch.
And then the creature’s mouth opened, revealing a row of unusually sharp teeth, and Shi Qingxuan was certain a loud screech would escape. But to his greatest surprise, the creature spoke in a deep and melodic voice that sent small ripples through the water.
“Who are you?” it asked in a detached tone, as if it wasn’t really interested in the answer.
Shi Qingxuan opened and closed his mouth several times, like he was the fish, before he finally managed to form words.
“Sh– Shi Qingxuan,” he stammered and reached for his fan to cool his heated disposition.
The creature snarled and its hands curled into firsts.
“So you’re with him,” it spat, and its fin jerked again to drench the carpet even further.
“H-him? Shi Wudu? My brother you mean?”
“I don’t care what he is to you,” the creature said and finally detached itself from the glass to float freely in the basin, “Why are you here? Did you come to gloat? Did he finally allow others to stare at his prized possession?”
“I… No, he – he isn’t even here. I didn’t…I didn’t know there was something like you here,” Shi Qingxuan said helplessly, trying and failing to stand up.
It let out a laugh – a dark and humourless thing. “Something like me. Of course.”
Shi Qingxuan’s eyes widened in horror – how could he have been so tactless?
“Oh no, oh no, I’m so sorry, that sounded terrible, I didn’t mean it like that, not at all, I didn’t want to insult you! You’re not a thing, no, you’re a person and beautiful and…” his voice stumbled over the word and he felt colour creep into his face, “…what’s your name?” he ended weakly.
The man looked at him, the anger in his eyes almost completely replaced by confusion as he hovered motionlessly in the water.
“He Xuan,” he answered after a long while, his voice slightly strained, as if it wasn’t used to saying the name.
“Nice to meet you, He Xuan. I’m Shi Qingxuan. Ah, you knew that already. Our names sound similar, right? Hahaha…” Shi Qingxuan was babbling, as he always did when his nerves acted up. He Xuan’s rigid posture had softened ever so slightly and his brows were now furrowed in impatience rather than anger. Shi Qingxuan used the opportunity to struggle to his feet, willing his legs to carry his weight. He Xuan observed his motions with wary eyes (wary, golden eyes, more beautiful than any of Shi Qingxuan’s jewellery).
“What is that?” He Xuan asked when Shi Qingxuan picked up his cane.
“This?” he whirled it around a bit and smiled, “It helps me to walk. My leg doesn’t work like it used to.”
He Xuan scoffed and twisted his tail almost demonstratively. “Useless.”
Shi Qingxuan laughed and allowed himself a few steps in the direction of the basin. “Quite so. My brother thinks the same.”
He Xuan’s eyes darkened instantly, and a conflicted expression appeared on his face. “He hasn’t healed you,” he said, more to himself than to Shi Qingxuan.
“Of course not. He can’t do that. But I’m trying my best to recover! I work hard every day. Well, not today, not yet, but I will, and then –“
“You said your brother is gone. Where is he?”
“Huh? He’s at some gathering with other businesspeople. He didn’t really tell me what it’s about. He’ll be back in a month though, if you miss him.”
He Xuan stared at him with such disgust in his eyes that Shi Qingxuan flinched involuntarily.
“Miss him? Are you stupid?”
“Wh- why? Are you not friends? Then why are you here?”
He Xuan drifted closer to the glass, and for a moment Shi Qingxuan almost expected him to pull himself up and out of the basin. But instead, He Xuan slammed his fist against the wall, mouth distorted in a snarl that exposed those sharp teeth.
“I’m not here because I want to be, you naive little idiot. I’m here because your brother enslaved me, he took my everything and then myself, and now he refuses me even death.” The last word was accompanied by another wave of water that swept out of the basin. Shi Qingxuan stared at him in horror.
“No, Ge…my brother wouldn’t do that, he never…he would never hurt someone like that, he’s maybe a bit strict, but he’s a good person, he–“
“He’s a cruel bastard who would do everything for his own gain,” He Xuan spat. “That he hasn’t healed your leg is the best proof of that. Tell me, do you know what merfolk are known for?”
Shi Qingxuan stumbled back, his vision swimming with tears that threatened to join puddles of water on the floor.
“I don’t know what you mean, my brother wouldn’t…”
He Xuan kept talking, a cruel smile stretching his lips, “We are known for granting wishes. Three of them, should someone manage to catch us. And do you know how many your dear brother–“
Shouts echoed through the corridor outside and they snapped Shi Qingxuan out of his stupor. “Stop lying! Stop! I won’t listen to it anymore!”
He would have covered his ears, were his hands not busy clutching his walking stick, and so he made for the door, not caring if his Shifu was right there on the other side. But the corridor was empty and Shi Qingxuan limped through it as quickly as he could, trying to get the echoes of He Xuan’s voice out of his ears.
- - -
He Xuan watched the man stumble out of the room, clumsy on his unworking leg. With his absence the silence returned, and He Xuan found it even more deafening than usual. He remained hovering in the water, his fist still pressed against the glass and his temper only slowly cooling down. He Xuan hadn’t encountered many humans during his stay in this hell, but this one had to be the strangest one yet. He seemed somehow brighter, as if the darkness of the world around him had not yet managed to touch him. But in his brightness lay an ignorance that sent an unfamiliar kind of anger through He Xuan. He slowly let himself sink to the bottom of his translucent prison, staring up at the missing sky. He wouldn’t see this Shi Qingxuan again, that much he was sure of. He Xuan was too good at scaring people away. Eventually, he drifted into an uneasy sleep again and he dreamt of the black waters of the deep ocean, where no light reached and where the silence was almost deafening.
When He Xuan opened his eyes, bright sunlight broke through the water’s surface, and for a moment he thought he was laying in the shallow waves on the beach. Then he realised that there was still no sky above him, and he scoffed at his own stupidity. Two years, and his treacherous heart still harboured hope. He lifted himself off the ground with a swift motion of his tail, careful to not spill any more water. He stretched his arms to get rid of some of the stiffness, but the basin didn’t quite give him enough space.
“Uhm…”
He Xuan’s head snapped around. There, right in front of him, was another face. He would have flinched, were his self-control not so impeccable.
“You!” he hissed instead, staring into Shi Qingxuan’s pale eyes. They didn’t look like his brother’s at all; instead the icy cruelty He Xuan had grown to hate was replaced by an uncertain warmth. Not that it mattered. They were of the same blood, they grew up in the same environment, so any difference He Xuan might imagine was nothing but an illusion. “Why are you back?”
The insecurity on Shi Qingxuan’s face grew with the red colour that now dusted his cheeks. He Xuan saw him swallow heavily before he dropped his head, and if He Xuan didn’t know better, he’d say the other looked almost bashful.
“I…” it was barely more than a whisper, a small sound in the emptiness of the room that did little to disrupt the silence. Where Shi Wudu’s voice carried with it a command under every word, Shi Qingxuan’s was more gentle, more subdued, as if it was used to being talked over. He Xuan glared at him – the act he was putting up did little to lessen He Xuan’s dislike of the man.
“Speak up or leave. I’d rather listen to the silence than to some mumbled lies.”
Shi Qingxuan looked up again, and there was a sudden flash of determination in his eyes. “I wanted to apologise.” One of his hands went up and his fingers tangled into the light brown curls of his long hair, an idle motion that proved his nervousness. Still he continued with a firm voice. “I acted immaturely yesterday, and I didn’t even listen to everything you had to say. So. I’m sorry.”
He Xuan stared at him, not sure what to say. An apology? Directed at him? That was about as strange as it could get and He Xuan felt his brow furrowing in irritation. Shi Qingxuan seemed to take his silence as an invitation to keep talking.
“I would like…no, I would be interested in listening to your story. If you were inclined tell me. I can’t simply… accept that my brother is guilty of the things you accuse him of, but I also don’t understand why you would make something like that up. And I want to understand. I do.” His voice lost its confidence the further he went on, and by the end it was quiet again.
“Why would you care?” He Xuan growled because how naïve could someone be? “Why would you even consider what I have to say? You’re that bastard’s brother, I have no reason to explain myself to you.”
Shi Qingxuan flinched, but he didn’t back away. “I care because you’re in our palace, clearly unhappy and not out of your own will. I will consider what you have to say because you’re a person like everyone else, with feelings and thoughts and opinions. You should explain yourself to me because that way I can…well, maybe I can help you?”
He Xuan’s hands, curled to fists at his sides, relaxed. He felt his tense shoulders drop ever so slightly. Even the frown he kept on his face as a defence didn’t feel as deep anymore. This was, without a doubt, the strangest man He Xuan had ever met, with courage born out of stupidity, and kindness carried by naivety.
“There is no point. You won’t believe me.”
The corners of Shi Qingxuan’s mouth curved up in a stupidly bright smile that put the sunlight to shame. “You don’t look like a liar.”
He Xuan stared at him. Rolled his eyes. Stared a bit more. How an idiot like this could have survived for so long in this cruel world was beyond him.
“So? Would you tell me your story? I promise I’ll listen.”
He Xuan glared at him for just a while longer (maybe that would make him go away. It didn’t). Then, “Whatever,” he said. “It’s not like I have anything better to do.” And it was not like anyone had listened to him for the past two years.
-2 years ago-
He Xuan frantically looked around, desperate to find any sign of life amidst the rubble that had become of his home. How often had he been told that the reef he had chosen was too close to the surface, that it would sooner or later be discovered by humans who would not think twice to destroy it? How often had he ignored the warnings in favour of his sister’s demand for ‘more sunlight’? And now it had happened, humans had come to take away his everything and more. Red fog clouded the water and the metallic taste of blood was heavy against He Xuan’s gills. He was so wrapped up in his desperate search for his family that he saw the net too late. His fin tangled in its tight loops and he jerked involuntarily, trying to slip out of the trap, but his thrashing only made it worse. Someone pulled at the net, He Xuan felt the jerk though his whole body, and he could to nothing to fight the force that dragged him towards the surface of the water. His tail broke through first and icy winds tore at his scales, sending shivers through He Xuan. He readied himself for the inevitable, but it still came as a shock. His body was pulled out of the water and for a few terrible moments, He Xuan’s entire world became a blurry hell. He didn’t know where was up and where was down, and the too-cold air scraped at his sensitive skin. The net dug deep into him and he felt some scales bend under the pressure. He would have screamed, but no sound escaped his mouth.
“This one is still alive!”
“Get it onto the deck!”
He Xuan closed his eyes and wished desperately for death. But the humans weren’t so merciful. Instead, he was hurled onto something hard and rough, splinters of wood tearing at his exposed skin. He opened his eyes to find himself surrounded by several looming shadows looking down at him. With a last surge of strength he thrashed his tail, slamming one of the shadows against the railing.
“Restrain it!” another shadow yelled, and an added net was thrown over He Xuan. He felt his consciousness fading and hoped that the lack of water would kill him quickly.
It didn’t.
He Xuan awoke, not knowing where he was or how much time had passed. He was submerged in water and alive, those were the only things he could be sure of. He slowly opened his eyes, and with the sight his senses came rushing back all at once. The first thing he felt was pain, ever-present and all encompassing, drowning him in the white-hot sensation. His skin felt raw and parts of his tail stung in a way that told him some of his scales were missing. Wherever he was now, it was too bright, the harsh light almost blinding, and He Xuan couldn’t make out his surroundings.
“I think it woke up,” a low voice came from somewhere next to him, and he involuntarily turned his head in the direction. “Should we take precautions?”
“No. Let it wake. We need it able to speak,” another voice answered and He Xuan desperately blinked against the brightness, the uncertainty almost driving him mad.
Slowly, the world came into focus. Shapes appeared around him and through the light, moving shadows stood out. There were two humans right next to him; their forms distorted in a strange, unreal way. He tried to move away, but his back was met with sturdy resistance that thwarted his attempted retreat. Someone laughed, and He Xuan felt fury mix in with the dread. He bared his teeth in a snarl and let out a low growl, but that only encouraged the humans observing him.
“It’s harmless now,” the man standing closest to He Xuan said and knocked against an invisible wall that apparently enclosed the water He Xuan was in. “Aren’t you?”
He Xuan didn’t answer. There was nothing for him to deny, and his pride wouldn’t let him agree with his captors.
“So…” the man said and came closer. He was tall and lean, with his light brown hair tied up and lavishly ornated blue cloth covering his body. “You’re one of the famed merfolk, aren’t you? Everyone considers you extinct.” He waited a moment, apparently giving He Xuan the chance to speak. He didn’t take it, and so the man continued. “Legend has it that you grant whoever manages to capture you three wishes.”
He Xuan glared at him. Of course. This was the only reason their kind was almost extinct. Hunted down by humans in pursuit of those three wishes, more often than not killed rather than captured. And as much as He Xuan would love to tell his jailors that they would get nothing from him, it would only be a short-lived lie. The truth was that he had to grant their wishes. Merfolk had refused humans in the past, and it did something to them, as if they withered from the inside out. And so, He Xuan faced his captor with a grim resolve, determined to let no weakness show in front of him. He would make it though this, and eventually, one way or another, he would get his revenge.
Present Day
As he ended his story, old wounds ripped open and old anger reignited, and He Xuan’s breath was slightly elaborated. For a moment he saw Shi Wudu instead of his younger brother. The rage inside of him was so all-encompassing that He Xuan was tempted to vault over the lip of his prison to kill the bastard that stole his life from him. Then, Shi Qingxuan opened his mouth and He Xuan snapped out of his grim considerations.
“No, no that can’t…but what would Gege want from you? He doesn’t…he didn’t need anything, he’s smart and successful and…maybe you’re mistaken! Maybe one of the others–“
He Xuan laughed, a strangled sound that felt raw in his throat and sent bubbles of water to the surface. “I knew it. You’re just as much of a fool as I thought. Look around. Are we not in your brother’s study? Is this not his palace? If you’re still refusing to admit the obvious, then get out of my sight. “
“But he doesn’t need…“
“First,” He Xuan interrupted loudly and held up a finger, and Shi Qingxuan flinched before following the motion with his eyes. “He wanted me to strengthen his foothold in the business. Say, did you not notice that your brother has been strangely lucky in the past two years? Everything he attempts, he accomplishes.”
“Yes, but–“
“Second,” He Xuan held up a second finger, “He wanted to work without having to worry about competition.” Shi Qingxuan grew oddly stiff at that, his hand tightening around that stupid fan he clutched.
“You noticed,” He Xuan stated plainly, “That everyone who might have been an obstacle in his path vanished or was met with an ill fate.”
Shi Qingxuan didn’t say anything, he just stared down at his hands with a look of desperation on his face. Then, “What was his third wish,” he asked quietly, still without looking at He Xuan.
He Xuan smiled cruelly. “He has not yet uttered it.”
“Two years…” Shi Qingxuan muttered and took a step back from the basin.
“Just so you know. Healing a broken bone is nothing more than a trifle.”
Shi Qingxuan’s head snapped up and he looked at He Xuan, his pale eyes wide and glistening. A strange emotion surged through He Xuan’s chest, one he faintly recognised from days long gone.
“I need to go,” Shi Qingxuan blurted out and turned on his heel, limping out of the room and quietly closed the door.
He Xuan should have felt more satisfied at watching despair and anguish weighing down the other’s shoulders like a heavy burden. He should be pleased by inflicting pain on the brother of the one who had been tormenting him for two years. Instead, he just felt cold as the silence settled over him like a thick blanket of snow.