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Boya's mouth thins; he averts his eyes from the offensive sight before him. Just what he didn't need.
"Why hello there," a too-familiar, mellow voice comes over the heads of the thin crowd. If only he was shorter- he wouldn't have been able to spot Boya past everyone else. "What a delight to see Boya daren again."
"You show your face here?" Boya asks, terse and dry, refusing to look in the man's direction. He can't imagine a fox yao blithely walking into a cultivator's conference; has he no sense of self protection? Or does he think that Boya wouldn't dare to expose him? Just because he once saved Boya's life…
Boya scowls aimlessly at the distant clouds over the mountain peaks, refusing to look back at the swirl of humanity and the handsome face above it.
"How could I avoid, when they invite me every year," the voice tsks from much closer, amusement tinging it. There's a whisper of air behind Boya; like he's stepped close enough to touch. He waits, shoulders tense, but there's no brush against his back. Has this fool finally learned manners?
"Invited?" Boya repeats, frowning. He finally lets his eyes slide to the man next to him; slips them up and down his frame. Now that the crowd isn't separating them he can see his garments: all white, pristine and high quality and clearly affiliated with some sect or another. Qingming, here in the flesh and decadently dressed. Was he not lying about being a cultivator?
"Of course," Qingming says calmly, smiling that same coy smile that drove Boya crazy when he thought Qingming was hunting him- toying with him like a cat after a mouse. Or a fox. "I'm scheduled to give a lecture on shishen this afternoon. Perhaps Boya daren will be available to listen?"
"Unlikely," Boya says derisively, wrenching his gaze back. He has better things to do than entertain Qingming's outrageous flirtations. Qingming simply nods at him agreeably and lets Boya disappear into the crowd.
Ridiculous.
---
The body appears right as Qingming's lecture finishes. Boya knows the timing- despite not having attended the lecture- because two extremely vocal and annoying passerbys have just appeared, discussing how masterful Qingming's work is at top volume right next to him, when the body falls off the mountaintop and lands in the center of the walkway not an street's length from Boya's seat at the tea shop.
Screams echo through the walkway; Boya is on his feet and at the woman's side before they finish. He checks the breath- barely still there- and then the pulse. Feels the last beat as it disappears. The woman's eyes don't fall closed; stay open and staring, the bloody rents through her robes steaming in the cool air.
Yao qi lingers around the wounds.
Before Boya can move, a stifling golden light pounds down around him, locking him and the other onlookers in place. A figure, garbed all in black and gold, slowly steps out of nowhere, edges rippling as if through water. Her body slowly solidifies into the ancient, ageless mien of the lead of the cultivation world.
Fangyue, face white and emotionless, hair dripping to sway after her ankles, stares down at Boya, expression unmoving.
"Something's killed her," Boya grits out through the pressure of the spell binding him in place. Fangyue waves one disinterested hand, long pinky nail catching the light, and the weight lightens just enough for him to suck in a harsh breath, shoulders shuddering. The passerbys regain their feet, patting themselves down and whispering in shocked amazement.
"Indeed," Fangyue says, cool and unmoved. "And left some obvious evidence behind." She twirls her fingers and the yao qi- invisible and intangible- lifts up in dark swirls, only perceptible by the absence of Fangyue's golden light. She studies it for a long few moments, the whispers of the crowd coming only dimly through the pressure of her golden aura around Boya.
"There are, it seems," she continues conversationally, "some yao within my mountain's wards." Her eyes linger on Boya; he stares up through the continued pressure of the golden array, breathing as best he can under its weight- then follows her gaze as she looks across the mountain.
Other pillars of light illuminate the sky, descending one by one like slow lightning until the mountain pulses with them. Slowly, they fade, leaving only four- all equally bright as Boya's.
"I will be most obliged," Fangyue says, tone unmoved, "if you were to come with me, Boya daren."
---
Within a shichen, all of Fangyue's prisoners are arrayed in the main hall of the sect. The servants bow and leave as Fangyue enters; a wide sweep of her sleeve closes the doors, sealing her and Boya in. Boya, trailing behind her, uses the moment to look over the accused, heart stuttering to see Qingming. Of course; whatever spell he used to conceal his yao qi from the wards that guard the mountain sect, it wouldn't be able to fool the concentrated investigation of Fangyue herself. Besides him, there is also a tall man also in white; a shivering young girl with long, straight-cut bangs; and a man with deepset eyes and pale hair, tawny like a fox's.
Is one of them the murderer?
Fangyue waves a hand; on the floor before them, an illusion of the body, crushed and bleeding, shudders into view, disconcertingly lifelike. The young girl gasps and draws back; Boya's mouth thins. He's already seen it, but it's still a gruesome sight.
"I suppose you all are curious why you're here," Fangyue says, cool and disinterested. The blond man scowls over his crossed arms at the body, not saying anything; the man in white is also silent, though he offers a slow nod. "This poor woman," she says, passing a hand over the illusionary body, "died earlier. While in my sect."
Her dark, dispassionate eyes raise to Qingming's; travel, one by one, to everyone in the room. She ends with her gaze on Boya's. "The wounds," she says, clear and concise, "are crawling with yao qi."
The girl gasps. "There... are yao here?" she asks, covering her mouth. She's still staring down at the body, as if too horrified to look away. "What... what does that have to do with us? You can't be hoping that we could...?"
She looks up at the men standing near her, as if hoping that they'll convince her they won't have to catch the yao themselves. Qingming gives her a polite smile, but nothing more.
Fangyue's eyes slowly track up and land on her shivering face, steady and unmoving. "Each of you," she says in that eerily unwavering voice, "have yao qi lingering about you." Boya looks them all over with suspicion- then his skin prickles. When he looks at Fangyue, she's staring straight at him.
"Me?" he says, blinking in surprise. Qingming moves up next to him; places a hand on his shoulder. Boya is so surprised that he forgets to dash it off himself.
"It seems," Qingming says easily, "that we're all under suspicion."
"I'll have to ask you to stay here while we look into the death," Fangyue says coldly. She pins each of them with a slow, interrogative look- ending on the tall man in white, who still hasn't spoken- and sweeps out of the room, the doors closing behind her. A wash of spiritual energy sweeps over them, warding Boya- and the four potential killers- off from the world.
Dinner is a strained affair; Qingming is the only one who speaks much at first, sitting next to Boya and placing food in his bowl and carrying on into the unresponsive air. Boya has no time to spend chasing him away- he needs to find out about who in this room could have killed the cultivator. She hadn't looked weak.
"Where were you all when the body was found," he finally demands, interrupting Qingming's monologue with a quiet clunk of his bowl on the table. The girl glances up at him, eyes frightened; the tawny-haired man doesn't react at all, still eating steadily. Across the table, the man in white slowly also sets his bowl down, looking at Boya.
"It's not a bad idea," the man in white says, voice quiet. "To establish where we were. Perhaps others could confirm our locations, to absolve us."
"Then by all means," Boya says, eyeing him. His face is impassive; he looks altogether too unconcerned, for someone who's been accused of murder.
"Pleased to make your acquaintance," the man says, raising his hands in a perfunctory bow. "I'm surnamed He. He Shouyue. I was assisting the sect in assessing the remaining supplies before I was summoned here."
"And was there anyone with you who could vouch for you?" Boya asks, receiving a head shake in return.
"I was alone in the warehouse," He Shouyue says. Wonderful. Boya looks at the other two; the girl flinches and draws back.
"I, I was out walking," she says, voice withdrawn and shy. "The sect is so high up, they have beautiful flowers…" Her fingers go up to a nondescript little white blossom in her hair. "I wanted to pick some."
"Alone?" Boya asks, not gentling his voice. She nods, head withdrawing into her shoulders. Boya's eyes flick to the third man- and then pause. He slowly turns to Qingming beside himself, who's been uncharacteristically quiet; finds him smiling at him, chin resting on one hand.
"Go on," Qingming says, blinking at him like a cat. "I like watching you work."
Boya huffs in disgust and turns back to the blond. "And you? Where were you?"
"None of your business," the man says, placing down his empty bowl. He raises a detached salute and stands from the table, sweeping off toward one of the sleeping chambers they'd identified without another word.
"Well," Qingming says easily from beside him. "That's a bit suspicious."
"And you," He Shouyue says, piercing Qingming with a look. "Where were you?"
Boya opens his mouth to say that Qingming was leading a lecture in front of dozens of people, alibi easily verifiable- but Qingming beats him to it.
"I'm afraid I'm just as unaccounted for as the rest of you," he says sadly, shaking his head. Boya scowls at him in disbelief; Qingming turns that slick, charming smile on him. Ugh. What is he playing at?
"And… was it, Boya daren?" the girl says, voice small. Boya blinks at her. "Can we ask… w, where you were…?"
"I-" Boya begins; his throat works. He Shouyue's eyes focus in on him like a hawk's. "I… was on the concourse. When the body fell."
The eyes of everyone at the table snap to him.
Boya doesn't offer any more information, and eventually the terse few questions from He Shouyue peter out, unanswered. The light flees from the sky outside the papered windows as night descends; it's time to separate to sleep. There are only three rooms, so when they've ushered the girl off to the second, Boya begins walking toward where the blond man disappeared: he's the most suspicious, and should be kept the closest watch on. He's stymied, though, by an unexpected pull on his arm.
"Boya daren," Qingming says, pleasant and quiet, even as Boya fails to jerk his arm away at the first tug. He shoots Qingming an outraged glare- does he want Boya to use all his strength to shove him off?- which is blithely ignored, a relaxed smile meeting his eyes instead. "Come, let us retire." He leans in next to Boya's ear, breath brushing against it. Boya's pulse stutters; his throat works. What is he playing at?
"Don't make a scene," Qingming whispers, voice soft and deep and breath warm against Boya's sensitive skin. "We don't want to catch his attention."
Boya doesn't try to pull his arm away again; breathes out low and long, mastering his irritation. Qingming must have a reason for drawing him away. He lets Qingming lead him to the empty room, giving He Shouyue a stiff nod goodnight. When they've closed the door behind them Qingming pulls out a talisman and murmurs a spell against it, laying the paper carefully across the opening of the door. Silvery light spreads across the wall and floor, sealing them off.
"There," Qingming murmurs, pulling back. "Now we won't be overheard."
"Why did you lie?" Boya demands, studying him mistrustfully. Qingming sighs and beckons to him; Boya stays where he is.
"Really, Boya," Qingming says, looking slightly put out. "Are you so afraid of my claws?" His eyes twinkle; he walks over and holds his hand out expectantly. "My talisman, please. I'm honored you kept it on your person, by the way."
Boya stares at him; warmth slowly rises into his cheeks. Clenching his jaw, he reaches into his chest pocket and pulls out the stupid talisman that Qingming gifted him after their last encounter, slapping it into his hand.
"There," Qingming says, studying it. "As I suspected- this is my fault, Boya, I didn't mean for you to get caught up in this." He draws a finger along the talisman and a little wisp of yao qi follows after his touch, shadowy and swirling. "I was not careful enough in my construction- a little bit of my aura leaked out onto it."
"I've been walking around with yao qi oozing from me?" Boya demands, shoulders stiff. Qingming shoots him a look; his face slowly dissolves into a smirk.
"I would hardly say oozing, my dear Boya," he replies, brushing his fingers along the face of it a few times, as if dusting it off. The yao qi slowly dissipates- absorbed back into his body, perhaps? "You're quite accomplished- if it had been sensible by normal means, you would have picked up on it, I'm sure." He withdraws his fingers, leaving the talisman perfectly unmarked by yao qi. "I am flattered that you carried me so close to your heart, though," he adds, handing the talisman back. Boya's fingers tighten on it; he should rip it to pieces right here in front of him.
"Now, for our little trio of suspects," Qingming says, spinning to pace over to the bed. "What do you think of them?"
"What makes you think I don't suspect you?" Boya demands, stuffing the talisman back in his pocket while Qingming isn't watching. He follows him to examine the room: sparsely decorated, austere enough to contain only the necessities. Qingming is, horrifyingly, placing two pillows on the bed.
"Please," Qingming scoffs. "You know very well I gave an excellent lecture today. I was disappointed to not see you there, by the way."
"I'm not sleeping there," Boya says as Qingming lays out two quilts on the bed. Qingming doesn't bother to turn to him; just keeps straightening them out.
"No need to fuss, we've shared before," he says briskly. Boya's jaw almost drops open. Is he counting the times that he infiltrated Boya's bed while disguised as a fox? This little…
"I'm not sure what to make of that He Shouyue," Qingming says musingly before Boya has gathered his wits enough to decide whether he wants to strangle or punch him. "Did you notice?"
"Notice what?" Boya demands, teeth gritted. He stalks to the bed and seizes the closer quilt, pulling it off to the floor. Qingming pouts at him.
"The other two- their energy was so flat," Qingming says, tapping one finger to his lips. Boya tears his eyes away, scowling down at the quilt as he arranges it to his liking on the floor. "Like yours- like mine. The type of nonconspicuousness that could have something else hidden beneath it."
"And He Shouyue?" Boya says stiffly. Qingming hums.
"It's difficult to describe," he says. "You didn't feel it? There's a… flavor to him. And it doesn't feel like yao qi."
Boya makes a noncomittal noise. He stomps back over to grab the second pillow; brings it back and tosses it on his bedding on the floor. Spins to pin Qingming, who's just sitting down on the bed, with a glare.
"Why did you lie?" he demands again, eyes narrowed.
"Don't you think we might get some better information if no one's sure who could have done it?" Qingming asks, raising an eyebrow. He pats the bed next to him. "Come, Boya, I really can't bear to see you sleep on the ground."
"Absolutely not," Boya says, crossing his arms and settling in to meditate. If he must sleep- an unusual fatigue is dragging at him, much though he'd prefer to stay awake- he can at least wait until Qingming is asleep first. Whether or not he's a suspect in this particular murder, Boya doesn't trust him as far as he can throw him.
"Your loss," Qingming says with a sigh. "These sheets really are quite nice," and- horrifyingly- he begins to disrobe. Boya's eyes widen slightly as he stares in disbelief.
"What are you doing," he just manages to say. Qingming raises an eyebrow at him.
"Going to bed, of course," he replies, folding his outer robes and placing them neatly on the foot of the bed. "I'm quite tired. What, did you want me to sleep fully dressed?"
Boya wrenches his eyes away, heat climbing up his neck, and doesn't answer. The rustling of cloth continues; he doesn't look back until everything has gone silent, Qingming a lump under the covers. There's only a single candle burning on the table, which Boya lets be, for now.
He'll wait until Qingming is fully asleep, and then…
Boya blinks awake into the gray light of pre dawn, oddly dazed. He blinks hard twice to clear his vision; slowly, the events of the previous day return to him. The dead body; their imprisonment. Qingming.
He looks to the bed and sees the covers slowly rising and falling. Sighing, he climbs to his feet and prepares for the day; performs his morning ablutions. By the time he finishes, wiping his hands dry on a folded cloth, Qingming is stirring.
"Must you be such an early riser?" his voice comes from under the covers, colored with a yawn. "While I much appreciated your company and protection on the road, I must confess to that being one of my least favorite parts of our journey together."
"What protection," Boya scoffs. The sense memory of the little fox stuffed into his shirt briefly sends him back into the sun-dappled woods they trekked through. "You were just waiting for your chance to kill those yao, and using me for bait."
The blanket whips back; Boya is confronted with Qingming's messy hair and handsome face, staring indignantly at him from within the covers, cheeks flushed with sleep. Boya's lungs do something unfamiliar in his chest that he firmly ignores. "Boya!" Qingming says, loud and complaining. "I was under quite the curse, you know- I wasn't able to leave that form until you cast those dispellment cantrips near me. If not for you, I would have been eaten up by those yao in a single moment."
Boya frowns at him, not sure what to make of this statement. Is Qingming to be believed? He's a fox; he can't be trusted. The memory of that huge, silver-white creature in front of him returns in a rush: the smell of its fur, wild and animal; the thrash of its tails; the low growl of its voice. The way his hair stood on end, reminded of the mother he had to make his way through the world without, at the brush of its violently powerful yao qi.
How did he manage to fall asleep in the same room as Qingming?
"We should meet with the others," Boya says stiffly. He wasn't able to investigate last night; he'll have make do with the bright daylight today. Qingming makes a face at him and rises from the bed, rumpled and warm and quite underdressed. Boya whips his gaze away to look at the wall, the sound of clothing being arranged rustling behind him just loud enough for his unwilling, over-warm ears to overhear.
"How did you sleep, darens," the girl asks quietly at breakfast, eyes fixed on her food. Qingming muffles a yawn into his fan with a crisp snap, nodding at her with fake tiredness.
"I was out immediately," he says with a smile- like it's a confession. "The stress of the day must have gotten to me." The girl nods at him slowly; the blond man tsks. He Shouyue passes Boya the dish of vegetables.
"Perhaps we should try to get to know each other today," He Shouyue says as uncomfortable silence threatens to fall over the table.
"Get to know a bunch of murderers?" the blond man snorts; Qingming waves a hand calmingly.
"Now now," he says. "There's only one murderer, isn't there?" What a comfort.
"Not necessarily," Boya says stiffly. "All of you had yao qi lingering on you- any of you could be disguised as a human. Or all of you." He resolutely does not look at Qingming; regardless of whether he's a half fox, he knows Qingming didn't kill the woman from yesterday. His alibi is too solid, which Fangyue must have also discovered during her investigations. Why hasn't she appeared to release him?
"Or you," the girl says quietly into her food. Boya glares at her, but she doesn't look up at him. The blond man snorts and slams his chopsticks down on the table, crossing his arms.
"Go on," he sneers. "Ask what you want to ask."
He Shouyue exchanges a look with the other members of the table one by one: Boya- Qingming- and then the forehead of the girl, who still hasn't raised her face. "You still haven't shared where you were yesterday," he suggests quietly.
"Not killing random cultivators," the man bites out. His fingers dig into the sides of his sleeves, tight in the fabric above his biceps. "Other than that, I don't see that it concerns you."
"No one can vouch for where you were?" He Shouyue presses, curious. The man's face flickers; his mouth tightens, and he doesn't respond.
"What about you, then?" the girl says, voice soft. She looks up through her lashes at He Shouyue. "You said you were in a warehouse… you work for the sect?"
He Shouyue blinks at her; he nods. "Yes," he says. "For many years, now."
"And are you close to sect leader Fangyue?" Qingming asks, sipping slowly at his tea. He Shouyue turns his eyes on him; but before he can answer, a servant calls from behind the closed door.
"Speak of her, and she shall appear," Qingming murmurs. The doors sweep open to reveal Fangyue, black robes shining with understated embroidery and jewlery gleaming in her hair. She enters with a slow, stalking pace, the long lines of gems swaying back and forth from her pierced ears mesmerizingly.
"There you are," the blond man snaps, straightening to fix her with a glare. "When will we be released?"
Fangyue raises one eyebrow, not bothering to look at him. She sweeps her gaze lingeringly over the five people at the table; after a few moments of breathless silence, she finally raises a hand to gesture slowly at the girl. "Come with me," she says, calm and even.
The girl swallows; glances at Qingming, then at Boya. Hesitantly, she rises from her cushion and follows Fangyue out of the room.
Silence descends over the table.
Boya hasn't just been wasting his time at this breakfast. While his aptitude for sensing yao qi certainly isn't as high as the head of the cultivation world, he has his own ways to read it. He excuses himself back to his and Qingming's room in Fangyue's absence- leaving Qingming to converse with He Shouyue, all pleasant nothings- and quickly withdraws the talismans from within his robes. He needs to view them immediately, before the impressions on them fade.
There- the yao qi sensing spell activated based on who was closest. Boya can visualize where everyone was sitting; he begins to lay the talismans out on the table in the same pattern they had in his robes.
Qingming to his left: if he's to be believed, he's half yao, so his signature should be strong. The talisman's ink is a pale pink, shading to red in the corner that was closest to him. Qingming is good at hiding it, but this meticulously precise little spell- usually used for cleansing shrines- was able to pick up on it. Boya is lucky that that monk taught him how to make them, all those years ago. And that he had a few in his qiankun sleeve; he doesn't like to imagine Qingming lingering over his shoulder investigating his work, had he had to draw them out himself.
But there's no time to waste on imagination. Boya lays out another talisman. At the other side of the table: the girl, then the blond man. Boya's brow furrows as he examines the paper.
The ink on it is stained to a dark blood-red, almost black; even on both sides. No- perhaps slightly darker where the girl was sitting.
That can't be right. Is there a problem with the talismans? He lays out the final one- the one for He Shouyue, at the head of the table. The talisman is completely blank; the ink hasn't even appeared.
There is no yao qi on him whatsoever.
A whisper of fabric outside the door; Boya sweeps all the talismans back into his robes, mind whirling. Qingming's face appears as the doors slide open, an eyebrow raising to see Boya sitting alone.
"Sect leader Fangyue wishes to see you," he says.
"Boya daren," Fangyue says, cool and unbothered, from the room she's comandeered. It must be where the girl slept last night; it's surely the nicest room here, long swathes of cloth hanging from the walls and bedframe and ornate paintings covering the walls. Fangyue sips from a jade cup, dark eyes watching Boya over it. When she lowers the cup her lips are blood red- like the ink of the talisman. "What are your impressions of your fellow guests?"
Guests? She must be joking. Mouth pinched in displeasure, Boya considers her question. The faster they solve this, the faster he'll be able to leave, and the woman's soul will be able to rest. He turns everything he knows over in his head.
His fellow 'guests'…
There's no point in dissembling. "Only one of them has an alibi," he says, brusque and to the point. Fangyue studies him over the cup; sets it slowly down on the table.
"Indeed," she says. But she makes no move to question who it is.
"Have you found any more information about the killing?" Boya asks eventually, when the silence has drawn on too long even for his comfort. Fangyue doesn't respond; just keeps staring at him. Boya is not one to fidget- but as the seconds tick by into minutes, his shoulders tense further and further until they feel like rock against his spine. Fangyue still doesn't speak: just watches him, expression flat and unengaged.
Boya doesn't break.
"The yao qi on your body," Fangyue finally condescends to say. The relief Boya feels at the conversation continuing scatters at her next words. "It has disappeared."
Goosebumps prickle up Boya's arms; but he has plenty of practice in preventing himself from outwardly reacting. "Perhaps there was a mistake initially," he says evenly. "I can't imagine how yao qi would have accumulated on me. I always clean my weapons after killing yao, and our monastery conducts monthly cleansing ceremonies of our bodies."
Fangyue keeps watching him for a long few moments more. Boya controls his heart rate and breathing as best he can, to not give anything away.
"Mm," she says at length. "You're dismissed." Her eyes finally leave Boya; he feels the relief like a physical release of pressure. "Send He Shouyue in."
Boya stands and makes a stiff bow; exits the room with tension so tight in his shoulders that it almost hurts. He nods to He Shouyue, jerking his chin at the room- and He Shouyue rises to his feet, a picture of calm, and goes inside. Not looking at the other three, Boya retreats to his room once more. He needs to examine the talismans again, and see if he missed anything.
He seats himself; closes his eyes to settle his breathing. Something about sitting in front of Fangyue- in front of all that power- has his pulse racing, his hands threatening to shake. But there's no time to waste on fluster; the talismans are too sensitive to hold their secrets for long. He goes to draw them from his pocket-
"Boya," Qingming's voice comes, just as they emerge into the light. Startled, Boya goes to press them back into his lapel- but Qingming's hand is already on his, gently drawing them out. How did he enter so silently? Boya fixes him with a glare, but he doesn't resist the motion. There is no one else who can be trusted here, after all; if he wants a second opinion on whether the talismans are functioning, he'll have to rely on Qingming.
"Talismans to sense yao qi?" Qingming murmurs, eyebrows raising. "Boya- I wasn't aware you had the talent." He stops speaking; stares down at the talismans. He won't get much useful information from them, without Boya explaining their positioning, but…
Boya's gaze slides down to the talismans in his hand. His heart catches in his throat.
They are, every single one, drenched in ink so black it absorbs all light- from each papery center to the corners.
There's a loud disturbance outside the hall not a few hours later. Boya's eyes snap to the door as it slams open; three harried-looking guards rush in, weapons leveled.
"Have any of them left?!" one demands. They must make their own decision: all five prisoners are clearly visible spread out in various locations across the hall, Qingming closer to Boya than he would like. "Fuck!" a guard curses; and they race back out, the door closing haphazardly behind them.
"What on earth is this about now?" Qingming says, a look of calm interest on his face. He Shouyue stands; walks to the door and lays a hand on it, the latch clinking where it didn't catch. It's only because Boya is looking so closely that he sees the faint silver of a spell dispelling as He Shouyue touches it.
"It's open," He Shouyue murmurs. He leans into the hall; calls to a guard, who hurries over and whispers to him. He Shouyue's jaw tightens; he turns back to the hall. "There's been another attack," he says. "You all should remain here. I'll return shortly."
With that, the door closes behind them; when Boya strides over to it, that faint wash of silver is back, the ward preventing them from fighting their way out. He turns back to Qingming to see him exchanging a glance with the blond man, who's scowling deeply. The girl fidgets with her sleeve, obviously disconcerted.
"And we just wait here?" Boya demands, bristling with the uselessness of being forced to remain behind closed doors. Qingming sighs and pats the cushion next to him; Boya ignores him to pace.
It's evening by the time that He Shouyue returns, carrying a lantern and flanked by guards. Boya watches that silvery flicker disappear from the wood once more; he's removed the wards. He could have done so at any time during their imprisonment, then.
"You are all free to go," He Shouyue says, nodding at them. "The attacks have continued; we're certain the responsibility does not lie with any of you." So He Shouyue was working for the sect's interests all along? Was he just pretending at being investigated, in order to-
Before Boya can complete the thought, a sudden, cutting power fills the room. There's no time to turn to face the sudden surge of energy: a whirl of blisteringly cold wind issues from behind him, followed by a scream. Faster than anyone can move, the blond man seizes the girl around the waist and dives for the door, a blade of ice held to her throat. It presses in just enough to split the skin, a tiny edge of red staining the blue-white of it: and in the moment of distraction, he's already past the guards and out of the hall.
"Don't move or she's dead," he snarls from outside, barely visible past the doorframe- but He Shouyue is already moving. Like liquid silver he slips past the gaping guards to follow, pressing a silent palm toward the blond man. The blond shoves the girl in front of himself and He Shouyue diverts the attack, the slow-moving palm strike colliding with a pillar instead.
The huge wooden column screams and cracks all the way up its length, sending a shower of dust down from the ceiling.
Before He Shouyue can strike again, the blond man curses and leaps back, fabric billowing out behind him. No- it's not fabric- it moves too purposefully for that. It takes Boya's eyes a moment to adjust to what he's seeing: huge wings, flaring out in icy blue and framing the girl's wide, frightened expression where she's imprisoned in his powerful arms.
No more than a few moments have passed; not even Qingming has been able to react. With a visible heave of effort, the blond man flaps his wings and arcs up into the sky, provoking a volley of pursuit.
"Tell the sect leader!" He Shouyue snaps, and he and the guards stream away in pursuit. Boya goes to follow- to help- but Qingming's arm pulls him back. He turns to stare at him questioningly, and Qingming holds a finger to his lips, drawing him back into the abandoned hall and casting a ward over them that blurs everything around them. Invisibility?
Silence spreads; there's no sound but the almost inaudible shift of their robes as they breathe. Nothing moves. Nothing- except for the sudden tiny sound of something crawling across the formerly warded barrier. Something very small and black.
Boya glances at Qingming; his gaze is locked on the same thing. When Boya looks back, there's no longer just one; two, three, half a dozen, more. Teeming insects buzz and crawl into the hall, scattering into walls, doors, the ceiling. One by one, they spread out evenly- then, slowly, converge on one room.
The one the girl slept in.
Boya thinks to move toward it- but Qingming's hand is still on his arm, holding him back. He clenches his jaw and waits; their patience pays off. Minutes later, a black-clad figure slips into the hall.
The bugs dissipate, scattering back out the door and into the cracks in the walls. Some alight on the figure's clothes and disappear, as if burrowing into the black fabric- or being absorbed like so much smoke. Qingming's grip stays firm on Boya's arm until the figure is in the doorway of the room- as if he needed the reminder. Qingming moves them slowly forward, forehead beading with sweat with what must be the tremendous effort of keeping the spell working while in motion. When they reach the doorway, the figure is bent over the table, reaching into a teeming mass of gleaming black insects to withdraw a jade cup.
"This?" their voice murmurs in disbelief; they lift the cup to examine it. Qingming nods at Boya briefly in warning before he drops the spell, and Boya darts toward the figure before they have any chance to react.
A swear; the figure dodges his first strike, much faster than he'd anticipated. They trade a few blows before Qingming is recovered enough to join- and then it's two against one, and the figure is forced back toward the wall. Boya goes to block them in against the wood, but takes a brutal blow to the thigh; it's just distracting enough that he misses his chance and the figure slips away toward the door. Qingming raises his hands in a gesture and a bright portal springs to life in the doorway, blocking it and allowing him to step through into the figure's path, sending them stumbling back. Boya aims a strike at their back, longing for his sword- confiscated before they were imprisoned here- but misses, the wind of his blow sending up only a wave of their hair and knocking the mask from their face.
The person who spins around to face him is someone he's only seen once.
She was, at the time, quite dead.
"Aren't you-" Boya gets out, shocked; but she's still moving, one arm flying to cover her face, identical to that of the corpse. A flurry of massive beetles buzzes at Boya; he falls back, beating them from the air with broad sweeps of his arms. Qingming goes to grab her by the shoulder- but she draws a short sword and almost impales his side, only his hasty retreat preventing it. She flips over Qingming's head and dashes from the room, disappearing into the main hall; Boya slams another shiny beetle into the wall with a satisfying crunch that does nothing to lessen his ire.
"She's getting away!" he calls; he goes to pursue, but stumbles as Qingming lurches to one knee, sinking to the ground. "Qingming?!" he demands, heart racing.
"I'm fine," Qingming gasps out, one hand clutching his heart. "Go after her- ah!"
A convulsion hits his body- as if some massive weight has landed on him. A slowly building pressure in the air around them consolidates, a high-pitched screeching sound whistling through the hall. Boya hauls Qingming up by the shoulder and drags him to the doorway- only to stop, jaw dropping, at the sight which awaits him.
The woman in black has thrown herself into a corner, a seething mass of black insects crawling around her like a wave of ink. She's just in time- a moment later the doors blast open in a shock of jagged icicles, clearing the way for the blond man to burst in, wings tattered and torn. He still clutches his hostage to himself, but blood drips from his brow and his magnificent wings, mixed with clear sweat; he's clearly flagging. He releases the girl- who tumbles to the ground, letting out a quiet cry- and stumbles toward Boya, expression apoplectic. Boya tries to shove Qingming, still unsteady, behind him- but he's pushed out of the way, so unexpected that he doesn't manage to prevent it. Qingming extends a talisman before Boya can say anything, and the blond man sighs and disappears into a burst of golden light. Moments later He Shouyue and the guards pour into the hall, just as Qingming pushes the talisman back into his lapel.
"He's gone," Qingming calls, color already improving. One of the guards helps up the girl, who starts crying into his shoulder. He Shouyue's eyes land on the woman in the corner, dropping to the mass of insects. Before he can say anything-
Golden light fills the hall. The guards part like water- natural, docile, as if they don't even realize what they're doing. Fangyue, haloed in golden light, makes her measured way into the room, pace unhurried and unimpressed. Qingming's throat works next to Boya; the black clad woman's insects hiss and throb en mass.
"Long Ye daren," Fangue says, tone clinical. "I must admit to being surprised to see you here." He Shouyue's mouth thins behind her. "My impression was that you were quite dead after you bled out on my walkway."
The woman- Long Ye- smiles, slow and careful; gradually, the sea of insects around her dissipates into the wood of the floor and walls, streaming out through the wooden windows and up into her sleeves and pant legs. She raises her hands in a polite bow.
"Forgive my attempts at artifice," she says, face calm despite the way that her chest heaves. "I had a certain interest in… going unnoticed."
"Indeed," Fangyue says, expression unmoving. He Shouyue steps forward, brow furrowed in anger; but Fangyue stops him with a raised hand before he speaks.
"Let us converse privately," she says. He Shouyue closes his mouth; turns to the guards and waves them out, glaring down the objections before they can be voiced. The guard that the girl is leaning on attempts to help her outside; but Fangyue's voice comes, low and relaxed. "Not her," she commands.
The guard gives the girl an apologetic look, but releases her. She's left, trembling, to stand alone in the wide hall. Opposite her stand only Fangyue and He Shouyue; Qingming and Boya; and Long Ye, all unmoving under the fierce tension that fills the room.
"Let's hear what you have to say," Fangyue says to Long Ye. Long Ye hasn't taken her eyes off her; she seems to be debating what to confess. Boya sees the moment when she decides to speak- determination settling over her like a commander in battle, committing to the attack. Her shoulders square as if prepared to face her death.
"I came into possession of some information," Long Ye says, slow and clear. "I wasn't sure whether or not it was correct- not until I got here." She raises a single finger, as if in thought; a crawling, glistening beetle trails up it in a spiral. "But when I sensed it... it's like nothing else." Her eyes gleam, just as shiny and flat as the beetle's carapace. "I'm sure of it now; my little helpers have been bred to seek out specific yao qi. There is a yao- one that has done great, great damange to our land in the past. More powerful than anything you can imagine." Boya's breath catches in his throat; the legend of the great serpent is familiar to everyone. She can't mean…
"And," Long Ye continues, eyes gleaming, "it's being sheltered in this sect."
"Ah," Qingming murmurs. Fangyue doesn't move; just studies her, face smooth.
"And so," Fangyue says eventually. "You found scraps of yao qi. Couldn't trace it. Thought that you would take advantage of my power- my abilities- to gather everyone with the taste of yao qi around them."
"Not everyone," Fangyue says, chest still rising and falling rapidly. Despite the calm of her face, she's clearly ready for a fight; fear makes her voice loud. "You don't care about the little low-level yao that disguise themselves to come here. Why should I?"
"Ah," Qingming says again. His gaze slips to the girl, still standing petrified in the center of the hall, who swallows and looks back down at the floor.
"All I had to do," Long Ye continues, "is have you confine them all together. But your little commander-" and she gestures to He Shouyue, who watches her with a pinched mouth- "sealed off the hall. I couldn't get inside until today, even when he snuck out at night to make his report to you. What did he do? Drug them so they wouldn't notice?"
The strange tiredness that had overcome Boya- that was it, then. And He Shouyue… "Why have him pretend to be one of the accused?" he demands of Fangyue. "We were at your disposal for questioning regardless." He Shouyue glances at him, but neither he nor Fangyue respond.
"And yet in the end, all you caught was this man with his shishen," Long Ye says, gesturing at Qingming dismissively. Qingming meets her look with a polite smile. Fangyue raises an eyebrow, and Long Ye huffs an impatient laugh. "You don't believe me?" she says, smile slowly lengthening into a manic grin. "Try this," and a sudden black knife flings from her sleeve, whistling directly at the girl.
No one is close enough to stop it; Boya watches in slow motion as the girl's eyes widen in fright. The knife shoots through the air toward her, closer and closer, the fear deepening in her eyes. A handsbreadth from her forehead, and-
The knife shoots soundlessly into a tiny golden portal, disappearing before it can connect. But the girl is already reacting- her eyes snap closed, her entire form bracing. No, not bracing- morphing. She shudders and jolts, and her body explodes into purple and black, fabric sweeping out from her in waves. It settles to the ground in overlapping, breezy layers, leaving nothing behind except a single butterfly, flying hurriedly in Qingming's direction.
He extends a hand, expression calm, and the butterfly disappears into a glowing talisman.
"No need to ask what happened to the other one," Long Ye says dismissively. Boya turns an enraged look on Qingming; but he's not looking at him, just at Fangyue.
"That's a bold trick to pull on me," Fangyue murmurs, expression displeased. Qingming offers her a quiet smile.
"There are some little yao around that would be quite inconvenienced by the attentions of so many cutivators," Qingming murmurs, raising his hands at her deferentially. "I simply thought to draw some of the attention away while they saw themselves off the mountain."
"Indeed," Fangyue says, tone cold. Long Ye is still looking at her, gaze intense and unwavering.
"Aren't you curious what I found?" Long Ye asks quietly, pulse visible in her throat. Long Ye turns back to her, expression flat. "About the great yao. The serpent."
"Go ahead," He Shouyue says, quiet and dangerous. Long Ye's mouth flickers with a smile; she draws the jade cup she held before from her sleeve.
"Someone," she says, "is very careful at hiding their yao qi in public. But it seems," she continues, voice so quiet as to be almost inaudible, "that it can occassionally slip out when they find themself behind a barrier."
A ward snaps into place around the hall, its strength like iron compared to the thin filigree of He Shouyue's. A mighty silence draws between the two women. Boya's palm itches for his sword; his bow. Anything to defend himself- though from what, he's not sure. Qingming is unmoving at his side, barely breathing.
"What do you know," Fangyue says finally, cold and hateful, "about the ways of our sect."
Golden light swirls around her fingertips, forceful and threatening; the sheer power radiating off it draws a cold sweat from Boya's skin. Fangyue takes a single step toward Long Ye; but before she gets close, He Shouyue's hand closes around hers.
"Fangyue," he murmurs, voice full of pain. She stops where she stands, face creased in frighteningly cold anger. Her irises are a strange, light color. "They don't know our ways."
"But I know our ways," Fangyue hisses, a strange geometric pattern flickering over her skin. "I'm the one who's had to bear them- who's had to carry this. So many years, and it's still-" she cuts herself off, eyes flashing dark and light. She raises a hand to her jaw, grimacing as if in pain.
"My love- my love, be calm," He Shouyue says, rushing to stand in front of her. A muscle jumps in her tight-clenched jaw; she slowly inclines her head into his shoulder as his arms go around her. "They don't know- they didn't know."
"They want to hunt me," Fangyue grits out. "They want to kill me- destroy me- cut open my body and release it-"
"They didn't know- they don't know," He Shouyue repeats in a mindless murmur, hands stroking through Fangyue's hair over and over. "Come back to me, my love- don't let it control you…"
There's no way out of the hall, even if Boya were the type to run. Qingming is very still by his side, in the way of someone aware that their life may be forfeit if they move. "I suspect," he murmurs quietly, for Boya's ears only, "that we may be standing in front of a vessel."
"Don't-" He Shouyue snaps, fixing them with a fierce glare. "Don't you dare speak of her that way. You pathetic mortals- you have no idea how many lifetimes she's borne this. Protected your useless lives, over and over-"
The sense of pressure in the room slowly drains away as He Shouyue spits out invective after invective; eventually one of Fangyue's hands, clenched in his robes, releases, single finger by single finger. She strokes her palm along the fine embroidery of his lapels, breathing out in a long, quiet exhale. He Shouyue falls silent at her touch, eyes dropping to her in visible, contrite pain.
"It's fine," Fangyue whispers slowly. "It's fine." She raises her eyes to Long Ye, turning He Shouyue so that she can see past him. Long Ye's forehead is beaded with sweat.
"This great yao," Fangyue says, voice a throaty, rasping hiss, "is not one that can be slain."
"It can only be repressed," He Shouyue murmurs in unwilling agreement. "Sealed- and at great personal cost." He directs a hearty glare in Long Ye and Qingming's direction both. "The seal is not to be toyed with by- by amateurs."
"Well then," Qingming says, hand coming up behind Boya, unseen, to tap at his waist meaningfully. "It seems that this was all a true misundestanding. No harm intended, and all that."
"But harm was done," He Shouyue says lowly, still curled protectively around Fangyue. His gaze travels over Boya and Qingming- over Long Ye. "And this information is not that which can be known to the outside world."
Boya tenses. Power is building in He Shouyue- deep and threatening. In the next moment, he's sprinting toward Long Ye, right ahead of the blast of power that lands where they stood; Qingming has already dashed in the other direction, raising his arms in a hand seal. Boya seizes Long Ye's arm and rips a dagger from her wrist sheathe; whips it in He Shouyue's direction. Fangyue moves in front of him, scales spreading across her visible skin in waves, and the dagger bounces off her cheek like so much dead wood. But it's served its function; the two have been delayed. In the next moment, a swooping sensation as Boya and Long Ye fall together into golden light.
The portal closes as they hit the ground, tumbling down the uneven, rocky side of the mountain. A moment later Qingming falls out of another portal to their side, the sweep of his robes half disintegrated and still sizzling with the force of the golden magic that blasts out of it after him. He hurriedly bats at the golden flames creeping up his robes as the portal snaps closed, breathing fast. He wastes no time- stumbles to his feet and runs to Long Ye and Boya.
"Quick, hold onto me!" he calls, and Long Ye and Boya both seize a side as he moves his arms in a vast circle. A huge space tears itself open in the air, spinning and fairly singing with power. Long Ye and Boya clinging to him, Qingming leaps into the portal just as a lance of golden light beams down where they were standing.
The three tumble to the grassy earth, a gigantic rumble echoing from the still-spinning portal. It snaps closed behind them, a blast of air the only thing to follow them through. Qingming, chest heaving and brow beaded with sweat, looks up to see that it's closed- then lets his head drop back to the ground, wheezing out a breath that almost sounds like a laugh. Boya pushes himself upright, scanning their surroundings. There's no grassland like this near the sect. Qingming transported them far away, indeed; it must have taken a tremendous amount of power.
"Well. That was interesting," Long Ye says wryly, sitting up and picking leaves out of her hair. "I suppose I won't be making a name for myself by slaying the great serpent."
Boya eyes her mistrustfully. "Glad to see you alive and well," Qingming says with dry amusement. "You look much better walking around than you did lying dead of the pavement." Long Ye gives him a tight smile in return. "Perhaps you could do me a favor," Qingming continues shamelessly, "now that I've gotten you out of that predicament?"
"Oh?" Long Ye says, tilting her head. It makes a leaf she missed poke out, visible where her long ponytail swings. "And what favor would that be?"
Qingming, with a smile that doesn't meet his eyes, slowly climbs to his feet, resettling his robes and hair and brushing off the dust meticulously. After he's done preening he draws out a talisman and casually bites his own thumb, smearing blood across it. In a swirl of fabric, the girl from before appears, dropping her eyes and fidgeting with her sleeves.
"If you don't mind, my dear?" Qingming murmurs. With a nervous glance she slowly turns her back to Long Ye, letting Qingming lift the fall of her long black hair off her neck. Boya goes to avert his eyes, but a dot catches them before he can: a tiny, jet-black insect, buried in the skin right at her hairline.
"Oh, very well," Long Ye says, rolling her eyes. She gestures, and the bug-whatever it is- unfastens itself and flies to her hand, crawling into her sleeve. "You're a beauty, you know," she directs at the girl. "If you ever want to serve a different master…"
"Don't worry about her, Michong," Qingming says calmly when the girl glances up at him in obvious distress. With one more look over her shoulder she disappears, butterfly fluttering in her place and returning silently to the talisman. Qingming nods briskly and pockets it, directing a look at Long Ye.
"And I suppose that's why you brought me out with you," Long Ye says with a sigh. "Not for my charming personality. No matter- I'll thank you for it anyway."
"How magnanimous," Qingming says dryly. Long Ye smiles at him and raises both hands in a salute.
"Gentlemen," she says, bowing briefly to Boya. "Until we meet again." With no more pleasantries exchanged, she strides off into the grass as if knowing exactly where she's headed, tiny, almost invisible insects issuing from her and disappearing into the landscape. Perhaps they're guiding her.
"Well," Qingming murmurs, bringing a hand up to rub at his temples. "That was quite the adventure."
"A shame about your yearly lecture series," Boya says, staunchly staring ahead. He can feel Qingming's gaze on the side of his face; he refuses to return it.
"Oh, I suppose," Qingming says airily, all evidence of headache gone. He comes over to sling his arm around Boya; Boya tenses under his touch, arms tightening where they're crossed in front of his chest. "But there are plenty of other sects that want me to come blather at them; I'd be able to avoid that mountain for the rest of my life and still never run out of invitations."
"How sought after," Boya huffs, barely repressing an eye roll. He can hear Qingming's smile, even without looking at him.
"I'm afraid," Qingming murmurs into his ear, "that I've used quite a lot of power in getting us here. I won't be able to transport us anywhere else for a while." Why is he whispering? Is he afraid of Long Ye overhearing them? It wouldn't be surprising if she'd left a few of those creepy insects around to eavesdrop on them- but Boya hardly cares.
"Then we'll just have to start walking," he says, raising an eyebrow at Qingming. Now that he's made the mistake of looking at him, there's no escaping the fact that their faces are quite close. Boya flicks his gaze back away, giving into the desire to roll his eyes.
"I must have been here before, to manage to visualize it," Qingming says, turning to look around- arm still around Boya's shoulders- "but I'm afraid that in my haste, I was not as discerning in choosing a location as I might have been. I have no idea where we are." He's given up on being quiet.
"Wonderful," Boya says, sighing. "That Long Ye seemed to know where she was headed; perhaps we can follow her."
"As long as we stay a good ways behind her," Qingming says with a pout. "I'm not the biggest fan of insects, you know- or corpses that come back to life."
"You carry a butterfly yao in your pocket," Boya says with disbelief, finally shrugging Qingming off his shoulders. "And a- whatever that man is."
"Ah, Snow Hound," Qingming says cheerfully. "They're both good friends, is what they are, Boya. Oh- no, don't go, wait for me-" and he pushes through the grass to follow after Boya, who resolutely doesn't look back at the smile audible in his voice and just as resolutely doesn't imagine a little fox trotting along behind him.