In a far away hidden corner of ancient China, there lay a valley hidden behind a strategically placed layer of protective mist. The large valley was dotted with green pasture and tall trees, blue flowing rivers and streams that bubbled gently along their path. The soft sound of birds chirping could be heard in the air, and different animals wandered about the valley peacefully going about their daily lives. In the distant edge of the valley lay a tall range of mountains, their peaks stretching high up into the cloudless blue sky. Nestled within the mountains was a tall imposing temple, made of blue crystalline rock that sparkled in the sunlight. High up on the tall poles leading up to the temple’s entrance, forest green flags bearing an elegant insignia flapping in the breeze. Over the doorway into the main hall, a sign bearing the temple’s name could be seen from far away by any visitors who managed to make their way into the hidden valley. 

 

Thousand Moon Pavilion.

 

It was a relatively new sect compared to the four major families that had dominated the cultivation world for years, but Thousand Moon Pavilion had managed to rise quickly in the time since it had been founded, and was now known as one of the stronger of the secondary sects in the cultivation world. Overall, the temple gave off an air of elegance and tranquility, a place for young cultivator hopefuls to visit in the hopes that they would be accepted into the one sect that didn’t value family connections over talent. 

 

Inside the temple’s large main hall however, the same couldn’t be said. 

 

The tension inside the room was nearly palpable, made all the more obvious by the concerned expressions on the faces of the young men gathered in front of another, older man sitting on a gold and green chair in the front of the room. After a few seconds, one of the men, dressed in silver and green robes marking his status as one of the elder disciples, stepped forward and crossed his arms.

 

“Shifu, you cannot possibly be serious.” He stated firmly, “There’s no way we can let you do this.” Song Lan, the leader of the Thousand Moon Sect, raised his gaze from where he had been lightly running his fingers across a golden chalice and shook his head. Raising one hand into the air, the older man traced characters in the air where they glittered for a few moments with spiritual power before disappearing. 

 

I must. I have no choice.

 

The elder disciple shook his head.

 

“Shifu, I know you want to bring back Sect Leader Xiao, but isn’t there a better way? This method...you’ve already been harmed so much just to get to this step! Us disciples simply cannot just watch you do this!” Song Lan raised a hand and shook his head again.

 

Zifeng, there is nothing you or your brothers can do to stop me.

He was about to embark on what was perhaps the most dangerous task in his entire life; mend the long shattered pieces of his best friend’s lost soul, and bring said friend back to living physical form. No one had ever successfully done that before, and Song Lan himself wasn’t sure it would work. 

 

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try. And even if it didn’t work, at least he wouldn’t regret that he didn’t try.

 

In the years since he had taken Xingchen’s shattered soul and begun wandering around the world, he had searched for a way to restore his friend’s life while purging the world of evil. It was an impossible task, people had told him, no one brought the dead back to life perfectly. Even Lan Wangji, one of the top cultivators in the world, hadn’t found a way to bring back Wei Wuxian from the dead in the sixteen years he had waited. But as fate would have it, Song Lan had come across an old hidden method of restoring a lost life during his travels, a method hidden away in the recesses of a foreign country’s palace that Song Lan had been given as a gift in return for his help in purging the country of evil spirits. As expected, it wasn’t the most simple method. First, he had to travel to the four corners of the world and find the powerful talismans hidden there, talismans that were infused with powerful spiritual energy. That in itself had been more than difficult; to obtain each talisman, Song Lan had to traverse through multiple obstacles and tests, dodge monsters filled with dark energy and vengeful spirits. Each round had left Song Lan beaten and heavily wounded, barely able to make it out alive. But in the end, he had succeeded. Then, he had been forced to wait for years on end to allow his body to heal before he could carry out the next step, and in the meantime, he had formed his own sect.

 

Thousand Moon Pavilion.

 

Few people knew, but the name was a tribute to Xingchen, the one who others had likened to the brilliant moon that hung in the sky every night and had promised to start a sect with Song Lan. And at the same time, the name was a promise, an oath that Song Lan made to wait for Xingchen to return, even if thousands of moons had to pass before his wish came true. The sect worked the exact way Song Lan and Xingchen had promised many years ago; membership was based on merit, not on family connections. Those who wanted to join would have to prove their worth on their own. Zifeng had been the first, a child that Song Lan came across on the streets. The sect quickly grew after that, and now it was one of the strongest secondary sects in the cultivation world. Xingchen would be happy to see what Song Lan had done in their time apart. 

 

And now, after many years of rest, it was time for Song Lan to carry out the final step.

 

There was a price, of course, to carrying out the final step in restoring Xiao Xingchen to life; after all, one did not mess with the course of fate and step away untouched. And that was exactly what Zifeng and the other disciples were currently worried about.

 

“Shifu!” Zifeng protested, “This method, whether it works or not, will cost half of your cultivation! That is far too steep of a price to pay, even to bring back Sect Leader Xiao! There surely must be an alternative way!”  Zifeng’s brow was furrowed in concern, and he looked like he was going to continue protesting, but one look from Song Lan’s cold, determined gaze silenced the words on the young man’s lips. Song Lan raised a hand in the air and wrote out a few more characters with spiritual energy.

 

I have not come this far just to stop now. For Xingchen, this is worth it.

 

“Shifu!” The disciples protested, “It will take you thousands of years to get that cultivation back!” Song Lan shook his head and traced more characters in the air.

 

Zifeng, what are the three precepts that I have always taught you and your brothers?

 

Zifeng sighed.

 

“Friendship, loyalty, and merit.” He replied. 

 

Exactly.

 

Before Zifeng or the other disciples could say anything more, Song Lan raised a hand and summoned a bolt of spiritual energy to wrap around his disciples. With a second flick of his hand, the young men were sent flying out the door of the great hall, the golden ornate doors slamming shut tightly behind them.

 

“Shifu! Shifu!” Their voices cried in desperation, but Song Lan ignored them all. With a few quick swipes in the air, he drew a spell with spiritual energy and sent it over to the main hall’s doors, effectively locking his disciples outside. He sighed deeply and looked at the four talismans he had painstakingly gathered many years ago. Then, he rose from his seat, and carefully placed the talismans in the requisite formation on the floor around him before settling into a cross legged position in the center of the four items. Then, Song Lan drew the precious drawstring pouch that held the pieces of Xingchen’s shattered soul from he kept it tucked carefully within the folds of his robes near his collar.

 

Xingchen...please, come back to me. I have so many things I want to say to you.

 

Song Lan held up the precious bag in front of him, then with a quick swivel of his wrist sent the bag floating in midair. Then, he closed his eyes, cupped his hands in front of him, and summoned spiritual energy from within the core of his being. 

 

Let’s begin.

 

The pain was almost immediate.

Out of nowhere, Song Lan felt an indescribable burning sensation rise from within his chest as he began the spell that would bring Xingchen back, a burning that spread throughout his entire body to the tips of his fingers. White teeth crashed down on a trembling red lip as Song Lan forced himself to keep from crying out. He could feel his entire body trembling from the weight of the spell and the toll it was taking on his body, his hands clenching together so tightly he was sure he was drawing blood from his palms. Still, Song Lan took a few deep shuddering breaths and cleared his mind of all thoughts except for the goal ahead. 

 

Xingchen.

 

Behind the darkness of Song Lan’s closed eyes, he could see his friend’s white robed figure standing in front of him, the slender white ribbon in his hair fluttering in the wind as he stood with his back to Song Lan in the middle of a sunlit forest.

 

Xingchen...the man who is as bright as the moonlight.

 

In his mind, Xingchen turned to look at Song Lan and smiled even though a slender strip of white cloth covered the place where his eyes usually were. 

 

Zichen.

 

Song Lan could hear his friend’s voice call his name, that one name that he hadn’t heard for so long he had almost forgotten he had it. He could see Xingchen smiling, sunlight glinting off of Shuanghua as Xingchen expertly spun the treasured sword in his slender hands.

 

The image of Xingchen standing there was enough to make Song Lan’s heart clench in his chest, hurting even more than the pain of the spell eating away at his hard earned cultivation. Xingchen had given up so much for him, and yet in the end… 

 

Zichen, come spar with me.

 

Oh, how Song Lan wanted to! In all his years of traveling, he had never found someone who could spar with him the same way that Xingchen could. No one else understood him the way Xingchen did. 

 

And then…

 

Was he imagining things? 

 

Beyond the pain of the spell and the tumultuous emotions running through him, Song Lan thought he could almost feel a second presence in the room with him. It was weak, but it was certainly there. 

 

Xingchen?

 

Was the spell working? Song Lan did not dare to open his eyes to look, partially out of fear that he would be disappointed and partially out of concern that it would disrupt the spell. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there in the middle of the main hall of the sect he had painstakingly built, but after some time, Song Lan felt as if something shattered from within him as his spiritual energy reached its peak, and finally, the pain became too much to bear. Song Lan threw back his head and screamed as his spiritual energy exploded around him, the force of the energy ripping his hair free from its simple bindings and tumbling down his back. Something warm and sticky rushed up his throat, sending Song Lan lurching forward and coughing red fluid onto the ground in front of him. As he opened his eyes slowly, he realized that his vision had grown blurry, likely from the strain that the spell had put on his body. His entire body felt heavy, so heavy. Yet, as Song Lan looked around slowly, he realized that while the talismans still lay on the ground in front of him, the precious drawstring bag that held the pieces of Xingchen’s soul was nowhere to be seen. 

 

Xingchen…!

 

 Panic tore through Song Lan as he attempted to get up, only to fall right back down to his knees.

 

No, it can’t be! Even if the spell didn’t work, it shouldn’t have taken all that was left of him!

 

Xingchen!

 

If Song Lan could speak, his horrified scream would have surely echoed through the entire Thousand Moon Pavilion. 

 

I failed.

 

Either the spell hadn’t worked, or Song Lan hadn’t been strong enough to sustain it. And now, even the little he had left of his best friend was gone. Song Lan felt his body go slack, and let himself fall to the floor in sheer exhaustion and weariness. Every inch of his body was in pain, and his head wouldn’t stop spinning from all that had happened. Tears pooled in his eyes as he felt darkness close in on his consciousness. 

 

Xingchen...I’m sorry.

 

From far away, he heard the sound of the main hall doors bursting open, followed by terrified cries from his disciples.

 

“Shifu!”

 

Footsteps rushed towards him, and soon Song Lan was surrounded by the panicked voices of his disciples. Someone laid a hand on his back, and he felt a warm rush of spiritual energy run through him. While Song Lan was grateful for the slight alleviation of his pain, he knew it wouldn’t do much in the long run. A sigh of defeat escaped his lips, and he closed his eyes as he waited for the sweet darkness of unconsciousness take over. As darkness took over his conscience, he thought he could hear a voice calling out to him, rising over the worried murmurs of the disciples around him.

 

“Zichen!”

 

Xingchen…

 

____________________________________________________________________________

 

Zichen.

 

In the hazy darkness surrounding Song Lan’s mind, he thought he could hear a voice calling out to him.

 

Zichen, wake up.

 

No, I don’t want to.

 

If Song Lan woke up now, he would have to once again face the reality that he had lost Xingchen forever. No, he didn’t want to do that. As he frowned and tried to burrow deeper into the depths of his consciousness, something warm pressed against his chest, and Song Lan gasped as he felt spiritual energy blooming in his chest.

 

Who?

 

Zichen, wake up!

 

Who are you?

 

Zichen, you fool. You have slept long enough! Song Zichen, wake up!

 

The voice was firm and insistent, but at the same time flowed over Song Lan’s ears like a gentle breeze that calmed the tumultuous emotions in his chest. 

 

“Song Zichen!” This time, the voice was real, reaching deep into the depths of the darkness surrounding Song Lan and pulling him from the depths of his slumber. Slowly, he opened his eyes and found himself looking up at a light green canopy of silk cloth. Someone had wrapped him securely below a warm blanket and tucked a pillow under his head, and as Song Lan turned his head slightly, he realized that he had been brought back to his quarters. His entire body ached, and a soft cough of pain escaped his lips as he tried to move. At one corner of the room, he could blurrily see a figure bent over a pan of water, and the figure moved slightly as he heard Song Lan cough.

 

“Shifu!” The figure came closer, and Song Lan slowly recognized Zifeng’s concerned face.

 

“Shifu, you’re awake!” Zifeng’s gaze was delighted as he reached his teacher’s bedside, “Let me go tell everyone!” Before Song Lan could stop him, Zifeng rushed off happily, calling out a name as he went.

 

“Xiao qianbei, Xiao qianbei! My shifu is awake!” Song Lan furrowed his brow in confusion as he heard the unfamiliar name. 

 

Who is he talking to? 

 

A few moments later, Song Lan heard the excited murmurs of voices coming closer to his quarters, and before long the familiar faces of his disciples rushed into the room.

 

“Shifu! We’re so glad you’re okay!”

 

“Shifu, how are you feeling?” 

 

“Shifu, we were so worried about you!”

 

Their voices filled the room in an instant, a constant barrage of questions and statements that threatened to overwhelm Song Lan’s senses. Then, a single voice rose above the disciples’ clamor.

 

“Alright, that’s enough, quiet down. Do you want to make your shifu pass out again? He’s still very weak.” The disciples hushed at the sound of the voice; it was calm and soothing, barely even louder than regular, but somehow it managed to calm the overexcited Thousand Moon disciples. Song Lan froze as he heard the voice, unsure if he had misheard the voice in the midst of all the disciples’ chatter. 

 

That voice...I know that voice!

 

It had been many, many years since he had last heard the voice, but...Song Lan would recognize that voice no matter how long it had been. But...could it really be? Was he just hallucinating from the pain of his injuries? The sea of disciples parted at the sound of the voice, and Song Lan saw a figure appear from around the corner. As he appeared, it was as if time slowed down, the excited chatter from Song Lan’s disciples fading into a muted murmur in the background. The approaching man was a tall, slender figure clothed in simple white robes, so white it was like the color of snow save for the grey undershirt peeking out at the collar. Song Lan’s gaze traveled slightly upwards, his gaze taking in every inch of the approaching man. A narrow face, small slightly smiling lips, a pair of sparkling black eyes. The last time Song Lan had laid his eyes on that face, the man’s eyes had been covered by a white strip of cloth, his lips pale with death, the cut on his neck marking what had led to his end. But now, that was all gone, replaced by the warmth of life in the approaching man. Song Lan’s breath caught in his throat as the man sat down next to him, still smiling.

 

“Zichen.” Xiao Xingchen smiled, lightly squeezing Song Lan’s arm, “It’s about time you woke up.”  

 

Zichen.

 

How long had it been since he had heard that voice say that name out loud? In all the years since Xingchen had passed, Song Lan had never let anyone else call him by that name ever again. To hear again now...

 

Emotions rushed up through Song Lan’s chest as he gazed up at his best friend’s smiling face. Was he dreaming? Was he in the throes of some delirium brought on by the loss of cultivation? Or perhaps, he was on his way to the next life, and Xingchen had simply come to find him. Yes, that was surely what was happening. Yet, as Song Lan pushed himself into a sitting position, something began to tell him this was all real. The warmth of Xingchen’s hand on his arm, the glint of Shuanghua shining in the morning sun from where it was strapped to his back...it was all so real. Song Lan reached out and carefully laid a hand on Xingchen’s shoulder, slowly, afraid that his fingers would move through the spirit that he was surely seeing. But instead, his fingers closed around warm flesh and bone; the man sitting in front of him was as real and alive as could be. Song Lan’s lips trembled as his gaze returned to his friend’s face, his mute lips moving soundlessly.

 

“Xingchen?” Tears glinted in his friend’s eyes as he realized what Song Lan was mouthing.

 

“Zichen.” He replied softly with a nod, “Yes, it is I.”

 

Song Lan floundered for how to express himself for a moment, his lips moving soundlessly as he stared in shock at the man at his side. At last, he swallowed hard and traced a few characters in the air.

 

Have you come to take me to the next life?

 

Xingchen stared at him for a long moment before chuckling ever so slightly.

 

“Zichen, are you still running a fever?” He asked, placing a hand against Song Lan’s forehead, “You’re not making any sense.” The gentle hand pressed against Song Lan’s forehead was warm, full of life and vitality. On a whim, Song Lan grabbed the other man’s hand and pressed two fingers against his wrist. His heart pounded in his chest as he waited for the response against his fingers. Then…

 

Thump.

 

Thump.

 

Thump.

 

The strong, steady beat of a heartbeat throbbed against Song Lan’s fingers. His eyes widened as the truth of the situation finally settled into him, and as his gaze met Xingchen’s eyes again, he could tell that the other cultivator knew what he was thinking.

 

“I’m alive.” Xingchen said gently, “I’m alive, Zichen. You were an absolute fool to try the spell that you did, but it worked.” Song Lan stared at Xingchen for a long moment before he reached out and pulled Xingchen into his arms, tears rushing down his cheeks. Song Lan wasn’t an emotional man; he was always careful to keep the stoic, calm image that others associated with him. How else could he start and lead an entire sect? But as he finally allowed himself to believe that the man in front of him really, truly, was Xiao Xingchen, the bright moon and gentle breeze, smiling, living, breathing in front of him, Song Lan could feel all the emotions he had bottled up for all these years rush to the surface. All the pain, anguish, despair, and loneliness was washed away by the sheer relief and joy at realizing that the price he had paid had been worth it. All the years he had been waiting, all the obstacles that he had gone through…

 

And now Xingchen, Xingchen, was finally sitting in front of him, restored to life and vitality as if the events of Yi City had never happened.

 

Xingchen’s soft chuckle rang in Song Lan’s ears as he returned the embrace, one of the most beautiful sounds he had heard in a long time.

 

“Zichen, your disciples are watching.” He warned, his tone half chiding and half fond, “What are you going to do about your sect leader reputation?”

 

“Shifu, if you are feeling better, we will take our leave first.” Zifeng announced in response to Xingchen’s comment, and promptly herded the Thousand Moon disciples out of Song Lan’s chambers. A tiny smile quirked up the corner of Song Lan’s lips.

 

Smart boy.

 

He hadn’t been wrong to take Zifeng in as his first disciple. Xingchen chuckled softly.

 

“You chose a good head disciple.” He commented as he pulled away. Song Lan smirked as he brushed at his tears.

 

Of course. Only the best for our sect.

 

Xingchen sighed as he reached out and carefully measured Song Lan’s pulse.

 

“Good, it seems like your body is finally starting to recover.” He said. A frown turned down the corner of his lips as he hit Song Lan lightly on the shoulder.

 

“You idiot.” Xingchen grumbled as Song Lan shot him a startled look, “Don’t give me that look. What did you think you were doing, using half of your cultivation to bring me back? Zichen, I was already gone for so many years. The first thing I thought of when I first woke up next to Shuanghua was: why did you have to bring me back?” Song Lan smiled faintly as he realized why Xingchen’s spirit had disappeared when he opened his eyes. It all made sense now! A cultivator’s sword recognized its master alone, and would never let anyone else use it. It was only natural that after coming back to life, Xingchen would be brought to where Song Lan had kept Shuanghua safe in his quarters all these years. Song Lan shook his head and traced characters onto Xingchen’s palm.

 

For you, it’s worth it.

 

Xingchen shook his head.

 

“Zichen, you know why I took my own life so many years ago.”  He said, a mournful look taking over his eyes, “After all that happened in Yi City, I simply couldn’t…” Song Lan shook his head firmly. 

 

The past is the past, Xingchen. I have never blamed you for what happened that day.

 

“But, I-” Xingchen’s protests were cut off as Song Lan squeezed his upper arm reassuringly before tracing a few more characters on his palm.

 

You were not the one at fault.

 

Those were the words that he had wanted to tell Xingchen the most ever since he had regained control of his senses thanks to the efforts of Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji at Yi City. Song Lan knew why Xingchen had killed himself in the end. Faced with the fact that he had seemingly  killed his best friend, the one he had promised to start a sect with, that had been too much for Xingchen to bear. Even if Xue Yang had been the one who instigated everything to start with, Xingchen had been the one to strike the blow that turned Song Lan into a walking corpse. But in the end, Song Lan knew that it wasn’t his friend’s fault. In the end, if one really wanted to pin the blame on someone, perhaps it was better put on Song Lan himself. After all, if he hadn’t foolishly fallen into Xue Yang’s trap at Baixue Temple all those years ago, he wouldn’t have lost his eyes, and Xingchen wouldn’t have had to...in the end, Xingchen had simply had his path twisted by the cruel hand of fate. All the factors of fate had fallen to work against the righteous and upstanding Xiao Xingchen.

 

Now, all that really mattered was Xingchen was here, by his side, alive and well. Song Lan traced the same words on Xingchen’s palm again, poking his finger on his friend’s palm to emphasize the point.

 

You were not the one at fault.

 

 Xingchen stared down at his palm for a long moment, slowly taking in what Song Lan had written. Song Lan saw his friend’s shoulders tremble slightly as he took a slow, shuddering breath. Xingchen’s eyes glittered with fresh tears as he looked up at Song Lan’s earnest gaze. 

 

From now on, let’s just keep moving forward into the future and leave the past behind us, okay? Song Lan wrote, I will never let anything twist your fate towards darkness ever again.

 

Xingchen took another breath and wiped at his eyes before finally smiling warmly.

 

“I will hold you to that promise.” He replied softly.

 

__________________________________________________________________________

 

Before long, the entire cultivation world was abuzz with the news that the impossible had happened; Xiao Xingchen, the famed cultivator that had been long dead, had actually been brought back to life! It was the most unbelievable thing, and yet it had happened. And two months later, Thousand Moon Pavilion was draped in bright festive decorations and filled with guests from all across the cultivation world to celebrate the new sect leader’s ascension to his place next to the current sect leader, Song Lan. Startled whispers filled the air as Xingchen stepped into the main hall and approached Song Lan, who stood on a raised pedestal near the front of the room, but neither man paid them any heed. There would be plenty of rumors traveling around the cultivation world for a while to come, some legitimate, some exaggerated stories. But what really mattered was that Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen were both alive and well, reunited at last. Xingchen bowed in front of Song Lan, who carefully placed the unique sect leader seal he had made for Xingchen so many years ago in Xingchen’s hands.

 

“Xiao Xingchen, the bright moon and gentle breeze, from now on, you will lead Thousand Moon Pavilion with me.” Song Lan declared, “You must become the model for all disciples to look up to, uphold the precepts on which our sect is founded, and work to purge the world of evil. Can you do that?” Xingchen smiled and raised three fingers into the air.

 

“I, Xiao Xingchen, swear to uphold Thousand Moon Pavilion’s fundamental precepts, become a model for our disciples to look upon, and use my abilities to purge the world of evil. May the cultivation world be witness to this oath that I am making today.” Xingchen’s voice echoed strongly and firmly through the main hall, causing Song Lan to smile. He reached out and gently pulled Xingchen to his feet before turning him around to face the watching cultivators and disciples.

 

“Disciples of Thousand Moon Pavilion, hear my order!” Song Lan declared. The disciples quickly shuffled into position, all eyes fixated on their leaders.

 

“From now on, this man, Xiao Xingchen, will lead our sect along with me. You must all respect him, and learn all that you can from him. Do you understand?” Song Lan stated. With a quick snap of motion and flick of green cloth, the disciples bowed in unison to Xiao Xingchen. 

 

“Your disciples greet you, Sect Leader Xiao!” Their voices chorused in the air. Song Lan felt his chest swell as he looked over at Xingchen. He had been waiting for so many years for this moment, and finally it was coming true. It had been a long road, but it had all been worth it

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

After the festivities ended and the guests retired to their rooms, Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen took a walk around the sect grounds, reminiscing about their past and updating Xingchen on what had happened in the time since he had been gone. Xingchen sighed as they paused by the main courtyard.

 

“Who would have thought that so many of the most esteemed cultivators harbored such dark intentions?” He mused, “The peace that exists now did not come easily.” Song Lan nodded in agreement.

 

“But from now on, we will work together to make sure this peace lasts for as long as possible.” He wrote, “Right, Xingchen?” Xiao Xingchen chuckled and nodded.

 

“Of course, Zichen.” He replied. The two friends stood in silence for a few moments before Song Lan spoke again. 

 

“Look, Xingchen.” He pointed to the middle of the courtyard. A light snow had fallen the night before, and had turned into a light layer of frost as temperatures dropped. Now, the frost glimmered and sparkled under the gentle glow of moonlight that came from the moon hanging in the cloudless night sky. 

 

“Xingchen, promise me something.” Song Lan stated. Xingchen turned to look at him curiously.

 

“Anything, Zichen.” He replied. Song Lan pointed again at the frost glittering on the grass below them.

 

“Just as the frost cannot shine without the light of the moon, I cannot cultivate and lead this sect alone.” He wrote, “So promise me, no matter what happens, don’t ever think about taking your life again. I already spent thousands of years in loneliness and sorrow, and I would not like to do it again.” Xingchen’s gaze softened and he reached out to squeeze Song Lan’s arm.

 

“I promise.” He replied softly, “From now on, let us walk this path into the future together.” Song Lan smiled and nodded in agreement. 

 

“Allow me to ask you something, Zichen.” Xingchen said after another few moments, “Why did you build the sect in blue topaz?” Song Lan smiled slightly at the question.

 

“Xingchen, do you know what blue topaz stands for in the foreign kingdoms outside of our country?” He asked. Xingchen shook his head.

 

“Do enlighten me.” He said. Song Lan smiled warmly before answering.

 

“Blue topaz is the ultimate symbol of friendship.” He replied, “Eternal friendship and loyalty.” Xingchen looked startled for a moment before smiling. 

 

“Eternal friendship.” He repeated, “I like it.” Song Lan chuckled.

 

“I knew you would.” He replied. Xingchen smiled ever so slightly, a teasing look entering his eyes.

 

“Zichen, spar with me.” He invited. Song Lan chuckled, his chest warming at the invitation.

 

“Please go easy on me.” He replied, “My cultivation is far lower than it used to be.” Xingchen grinned.

“Absolutely not.” He replied. The sound of swords clashing filled the courtyard a few moments later, the song of Fuxue meeting Shuanghua that hadn’t been heard for thousands of years. Under the warm light of the moon, a gentle breeze blew through the courtyard over a soft layer of cold frost and around the two cultivators leaping and spinning through the courtyard, never to be separated again.