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There was once a young lord named Zhou Zishu, a faithful vassal and close companion of his nation’s crown prince. The nation was wealthy and prosperous, its people were comfortable, and its farms, fields, and forests were rich with abundant life. But beyond the borders there was war and misery, and the greed of those who would claim the nation’s riches for their own. Zhou Zishu worked tirelessly as his prince’s right-hand-man to maintain the peace, and to keep his countrymen safe.
One night, when the full moon was bright above the trees and the night air was cool and crisp, Zhou Zishu went walking.
He was technically hunting, he reminded himself as he pressed forward, not sparing a thought for where his feet were taking him as long as it was away -– away from the prince, away from the palace, away from the suffocating, gilded cage in which he lived. He was hunting, not sulking. One of those things was productive, after all. The other was utterly pointless. It was an ideal night for a hunt, Zhou Zishu noted as he walked. It was a shame that his mood was too sour to appreciate it.
Zhou Zishu was young and clever, rich and handsome, and he had the trust and support of the prince who would soon be king. His comfortable life was the envy of many, yet he was unhappy, because his life was not his own. His hands were bloody from keeping peace in the nation, which usually meant subduing and executing rivals, or silencing dissenters, or other similarly unsavory work. Zhou Zishu had learned that being the prince’s confidant meant being a killer on a leash -– one who could hear the darkest desires of the royal heart and make them reality, without necessitating that the regal and devout heir to the throne distastefully soil his own hands.
Zhou Zishu never complained, but he went through his days bloody and numb. His work made him feel out of place in the palace, having no inclination towards intrigue and politics, and no energy for pleasantries or games.
The royal court was as suffocating as a prison, but Zhou Zishu had spent his whole life there making a name for himself. Even if he could leave, which the prince would surely forbid, where else in the world would he go? As the third son of a long-dead country lord, everything Zhou Zishu possessed had been imparted by the crown. If he were to leave he’d be penniless and without prospects. And so he sat in his cage and he killed when he was asked to and smiled when it was proper and did his best not to let anyone know he was withering away on the inside.
That evening he had argued with his prince (if one could call the delicate, coaxing contradictions that a vassal is permitted with his lord ‘arguing’) about his future. The prince had decided it was time for Zhou Zishu to take a wife.
“There are too many border lords with disloyal hearts,” he had confided grimly. “The rats are coming out of the woodwork since my royal father has fallen ill. I fear what will happen upon his passing, Zishu. I need someone I can trust in the south.”
The prince had arranged everything, and spared no expense. Zhou Zishu was to choose any one of a half dozen noble daughters that the king’s advisors had found, all of whom were of marriageable age and whose fathers would be politically advantageous allies. They would be traveling into the capital next month for a ball hosted for the occasion, presented to Lord Zhou for selection.
Like livestock at an auction, Zhou Zishu thought with a sneer.
Any man would jump at an opportunity to curry favor with the crown prince’s favorite. What the prince assured him would be the fête of the century, he was certain it would end up being an absolutely exhausting circus of sycophants.
Zhou Zishu had no interest in marrying. If asked why, he would explain that his life in the crown’s service was violent and rough, and he feared that a wife and children might be used in the future by his enemies as a weakness to exploit. Yet while this was true, and sound logic besides, it wasn’t the primary reason for his reluctance.
The fact was that Zhou Zishu resented the idea of a purely political marriage. He had never and would never speak the words aloud, of course. He wasn’t naive enough to believe that people of his social standing would be allowed to marry for love. Indeed, that he held such lofty ideals in his heart was a source of great shame to him. In the end he would do his duty by his prince and his country. He only wished it didn’t feel quite so much like a punishment: sentenced to wed.
As soon as the prince took his leave, Zhou Zishu went off to hunt and clear his mind. He was lost enough in his thoughts that he didn’t notice he had departed from his normal path, nor that he had traveled well beyond the boundaries of the palace’s hunting grounds.
As the moon climbed her way up into the heavens, Zhou Zishu found himself in a beautiful, lush valley where he happened upon a lakeside clearing. The lack of trees allowed Zhou Zishu to gaze up into the unobstructed night sky where the moonlight mingled with mist on the surface of the lake, bringing an almost dreamlike quality to the peaceful night. For the first time in hours, Zhou Zishu felt his body start to calm. This was a peaceful place. Here, he felt like he could breathe.
As he stood there taking in the tranquil beauty of the placid lake, a flock of swans glided down over the treetops to alight on the water.
Perhaps he would do some hunting after all, Zhou Zishu thought as he cocked and raised his crossbow. But before he had loosed a single bolt he found himself immobilized in shock as one of the magnificent beasts transformed before his eyes into a breathtaking young man. He was willowy and graceful, ethereal, and so lovely that the sight of him stole Zhou Zishu’s breath from his lungs.
Raising his head, the strange boy froze, lithe muscles locked in terror at the sight of Zhou Zishu. For a moment time seemed to stand still as they each stood caught in the other’s gaze. But soon the young man blinked and shook himself alert, shrinking away, no doubt intending to bolt into the woods.
“Wait!” Zhou Zishu called, desperate to keep him from running though not knowing why, “I won’t hurt you. Don’t go…”
The man who was not a swan did not speak, but did glance down at Zhou Zishu’s crossbow and then back up to his face with a pointedly raised eyebrow.
If you won’t hurt me, his face clearly said, why are you pointing a weapon at me?
Feeling foolish, Zhou Zishu threw his bow to the ground, holding up both hands in surrender.
“Please,” he entreated again, possessed by an urgency he didn’t understand, “please stay.”
It seemed that the hypnotizing beauty seemed to find Zhou Zishu just as captivating as Zhou Zishu found him. Wary, but curious, he relaxed his posture and took two steps closer.
Zhou Zishu, crossbow now forgotten among the damp leaves on the lake shore, did the same.
Cautious and intrigued, the two began to talk.
The young man’s name was Wen Kexing, or it had been, once. His story was sad, and strange.
He and all of the other swans who lived in this valley were captives, victims of a spell cast by an evil sorcerer.
“We were all taken from our families, most of us as children,” Wen Kexing gestured out at the others on the lake, some in human form and some as birds, “held hostage by that wicked man for precious treasures. My parents had the key to the fabled World’s Armory, and the riches inside that vault are the stuff of legends. But my parents couldn’t give up the key, no matter how much it hurt them to lose me; the stakes were too high and the consequences would be too dire, if so precious a thing fell into such a cruel man’s hands. They hid the key, but they died fighting to get me back.”
By day the hostages transformed into swans, cursed to live like ghosts haunting the edges of the world where they used to live. Only from midnight until dawn were they able to take human form – and only by this lake.
“It’s a curse to be human,” Wen Kexing spat out, face twisted with bitterness, “not a kindness. The transformation tethers us here, reminds us of all we’ve lost. Those who give it up and live only as birds are able to forget their pain, and fly free, but it has to be our choice. We have to choose to lose ourselves, if we want to be free. He likes us to be miserable.”
Wen Kexing explained that the waters of the lake held magical powers. Drinking deep from its waters would make a person forget their pain, but it would also erase their sense of self, their very identity, and with it any hope of ever escaping their fate and returning to the world.
“Why, then, do you stay?” Zhou Zishu asked, heart heavy with compassion. He knew the pain of a cage, no matter how large. “Would it be so bad to forget? Is it so terrible to be a swan?”
Wen Kexing gave him a mirthless laugh, hand reaching up absently to toy with the jade pin stuck through his dark hair, holding it out of his face.
“Hope,” he said, lip curled with distaste, mocking himself as he spoke, “as long as we remember, we can still have hope.”
The spell could be broken, it was said, by a steadfast vow of love and a lover’s willing self sacrifice: a sharing of the spirit and merging of the life forces, two hearts beating as one.
Zhou Zishu had read about such spiritual cultivation techniques, but he had never met anyone alive who had mastered them. What a cruel curse, where the only hope of freedom was an archaic form of magic nearly lost to the world.
“I know how,” Wen Kexing intoned sadly. “Learning is easy. Finding a faithful love with a selfless heart is the impossible part. And yet we all live in hope. We are all fools, and me, most of all. The only ones who have ever cared for me are dead. There is no one left who would do such a thing for me. But still, I hope.”
Zhou Zishu found his heart breaking for Wen Kexing. The young man was unbearably beautiful, well spoken and poised even though his life had been tainted by nothing but death and loss and sadness.
And so Zhou Zishu sat on the lake shore and talked to this startling, captivating person all through the night, until a pair of Wen Kexing’s fellow swans, a strikingly lovely older woman with hair like moonlight, and a dark haired girl whose beauty would be unparalleled were it not for a disfiguring scar that marred the side of her face, called out to warn him that dawn was approaching.
“Please, be at ease,” he implored as they watched him warily from a safe distance. “You have my word that I will do you no harm.”
“Men have said that before,” the scarred girl frowned.
“I won’t break my word,” Zhou Zishu promised. “On my honor, I swear it.”
To prove it, he stood and walked towards his abandoned bow, breaking it cleanly in half under the weight of his boot.
Wen Kexing looked on, intrigued. A man of honor? What a strange and unusual rarity this was. Far stranger and more rare, certainly, than a sad swan longing to be human.
“Will I see you again?” Zhou Zishu asked as the dawn light started to creep over the horizon.
“That’s up to you,” Wen Kexing replied with a sad smile. “We have no other refuge than this. When we are not here in this valley by this lake, we might as well be ghosts.”
As though pulled by an invisible string, Wen Kexing moved haltingly back to the lake, looking over his shoulder at Zhou Zishu the entire time. He stepped into the water and then he was gone, leaving an elegant swan in his place.
“Wen Kexing!” Zhou Zishu called, bereft. The swan paused, but did not turn to face him, instead taking flight alongside his companions and disappearing into the misty dawn.
*********
Zhou Zishu saw Wen Kexing several more times over the following weeks, escaping the palace grounds as often as he could get away from his duties. He would bring wine and food and a heavy cloak to throw down on the ground, and the two of them would sit and talk about everything and nothing from moonrise until the sun crept into the sky.
The only person who knew was his closest subordinate, Han Ying, who caught him one dawn coming back to the palace with an uncharacteristically peaceful smile on his face.
Han Ying listened to his tale of the swans and the curse and the strange, beautiful Wen Kexing, and smiled.
“It is good, my lord,” he said, “to see you happy. It’s been far too long.”
Han Ying vowed to take Zhou Zishu’s secrets to the grave. It might be treason to say so, but he believed that some things should be for a man alone, and have nothing to do with the prince.
Happy, Zhou Zishu considered, I’m… happy. What a thought.
Drinking with Wen Kexing under the moon, Zhou Zishu found himself imagining a different life, unencumbered by the weight of his responsibilities and the blood staining his hands.
Wen Kexing didn’t treat him like a nobleman at all, didn’t genuflect to be proper and courteous or debase himself with groveling requests or attempts to curry favor. If anything, he did exactly the opposite, constantly warning Zhou Zishu to stay away from this cursed place, that nothing good would come from their association together.
But Zhou Zishu knew that while the words he spoke were true, Wen Kexing didn’t truly want him to leave. He always seemed content when his warnings went unheeded and Zhou Zishu settled in for an evening in each other’s company. And once his perfunctory warnings had been voiced, his countenance changed, revealing a roguishly impertinent sense of humor, shamelessly brazen imagination, and a bruisingly tender candor that held Zhou Zishu entirely in his thrall.
He learned that his new companion was brilliantly clever. Wen Kexing’s wit could flatter, amuse, or cut a man to the quick depending on his mercurial mood. He was utterly fascinating.
For years Zhou Zishu had considered himself a cruel, hardened man, a precision tool that the prince and his father could leverage for complicated, messy work, unencumbered by emotions, driven by duty. But all of that seemed to fall away whenever he was at the misty lake in the hidden valley below the stars. With Wen Kexing, he found himself laughing and teasing. He shared his wine and his stories and let Wen Kexing spin him wild tales that could have been true or entirely made up. It didn’t actually matter.
The time they spent together felt like a dream.
“A’Xu…” Wen Kexing turned to him one night with a smile in his eyes.
“Lao Wen?” Zhou Zishu replied, knowing the overly casual, inappropriately familiar nickname always made his friend smile.
“Nothing,” Wen Kexing laughed. “I just like saying your name.”
“That’s not my name.” (It was a private joke of his, that Zhou Zishu appeared so often by the lake, he might as well put down roots like one of the willow catkin trees nearby.)
“Yes it is,” Wen Kexing insisted firmly. “How dare you break my heart by suggesting otherwise, cruel man!”
He punctuated his statement with a pout so pathetic and helpless Zhou Zishu had no choice but to laugh.
The smile that broke out across Wen Kexing’s face at his quiet chuckle was as bright as the sun.
I want him to smile like that every day, Zhou Zishu realized. I want to make him smile like that every day. I… I love him.
The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. He loved this mad, impossible creature. The thought made him feel almost euphoric. Another laugh escaped his lips, this one made of wonder and disbelief.
“A’Xu,” Wen Kexing repeated with a cock of his lovely head, sensing the change in mood, “what is it?”
He looked worried. That wouldn’t do.
Zhou Zishu slowly reached up and ran the knuckles of a callused hand along the cheek and jaw of the otherworldly beauty in front of him. He studied him closely, gauging his reaction.
Wen Kexing shivered, lips parted and eyes fluttering closed.
Zhou Zishu tilted up his face and, when he complied easily, leaned in slowly and brought their lips together in a soft, tentative kiss. Wen Kexing gasped and trembled, and Zhou Zishu pulled back, unable to tell whether it was pleasure or pain that had him so overwrought.
Is this okay? Zhou Zishu asked with his eyes when Wen Kexing finally looked up to meet his gaze.
He wanted to kiss him again. He couldn’t remember wanting anything in the world as much as this.
Wen Kexing looked lost for a moment, adrift. But then he flew forward and knocked Zhou Zishu on the ground, climbing on top of him to pin him to the loamy earth.
“Do you love me, A’Xu?” he demanded, a hint of desperate pleading in his melodious voice. “I need you to be sure. Swans… swans mate for life.”
“I’m a bad man, Wen Kexing. I’m a killer. I’ve done unspeakable things in the name of duty. You should want better than me. You have warned me away, telling me that being near you is a danger, but I’m worse than you could ever be.”
“Good,” Wen Kexing said. “My past is full of good men afraid to get their hands dirty and now everyone I’ve ever cared for is dead. Good men are overrated. You haven’t answered my question. Do you love me?”
“Of course I do. You know me. You see the truth of me and you don’t run away. You let me see you, too. How could I not love you?”
Wen Kexing kissed him again, harder this time. Hard enough to draw blood.
“Swear it,” he said, and his eyes looked mad.
“I swear it,” Zhou Zishu growled, grabbing Wen Kexing around the waist and shoulders and tumbling them until their positions were reversed. Wen Kexing was now sprawled across the earth. His jade pin had come loose and his hair fell in a chaotic halo around his pale face, eyes sparkling and lips parted invitingly on a smile.
“I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you,” he confessed. “I just didn’t want you to know.”
They crashed together in a tangle of arms and lips and teeth.
Desire surged up in Zhou Zishu. He wanted… he needed…
“I’m going to get you out of here,” he vowed.
Wen Kexing shuddered against him, closing his eyes against the fragile hope.
“Your life is my life,” he murmured, as if in a dream.
“My life is yours,” Zhou Zishu agreed.
They collided again in a kiss that was hard enough to draw blood.
Good.
The way Zhou Zishu felt about Wen Kexing… The passion and the desperation were emotions too raw and violent to be contained in expressions of tenderness alone.
He would have surely taken Wen Kexing there on the forest floor, or let Wen Kexing claim him if that was his pleasure. But suddenly, as though he could sense that one of his flock was in danger of escaping, their elusive tormentor appeared – the sorcerer that Wen Kexing had warned him about, angry and thunderous beneath his dark, heavy cloak. Wen Kexing hissed with rage, teeth bared and eyes wild. Zhou Zishu twisted his mouth in a cruel grin when he saw it. No blushing damsel, this love of his, despite his eloquence and beauty. Zhou Zishu knew the killing intent when he saw it. Wen Kexing was dangerous.
That, too, was beautiful.
“Get away from my property,” the sorcerer ordered Zhou Zishu in a low, vicious tone. “Your prince isn’t here to save you now, you filthy little lordling.”
“This man is not your property,” Zhou Zishu replied, gesturing at Wen Kexing, “and if you come one step closer, I will kill you.”
He pulled out his sword as he spoke.
“Do your worst,” the sorcerer said, raising his staff, alive with a crackling energy that smelled like the air after a lightning strike.
“You can’t kill him,” Wen Kexing called out to Zhou Zishu, imploring. “If he dies before the spell is broken, it can never be undone.”
“What?” Zhou Zishu gasped, aborting a strike that had been aimed at the sorcerer’s neck.
“That’s right, little lord,” the sorcerer sneered. If you strike me down, the swans are still mine forever -– all except, perhaps, this one, he’s been troublesome since day one, hasn’t he?”
With a cruel curl of his lip, the sorcerer aimed his staff at Wen Kexing. Zhou Zishu flung himself in the path of the energy strike, which caught him in the shoulder, slicing open the skin.
“Get out of my valley,” the sorcerer commanded, “and away from my lake. This was a warning. If I see you again, I’ll kill you.”
And then he was gone.
Fretting, Wen Kexing tended to the wound on Zhou Zishu’s shoulder. Zhou Zishu sat still under his ministrations and began to plan, mind racing.
“I’m going to get you out of this,” He vowed. “I only need a little time – two days, I think. There’s a party tomorrow at the palace. It’s in my honor, I have to be there. But when it’s over I’m going to pack what few things I have and leave for good. I promise… as soon as I can take my leave I’m going to come for you and I’ll do whatever I need to do to break this curse, Lao Wen. We can cultivate our energy and share our spirits. You already have half of my soul, after all. Sharing a heartbeat would only feel right.”
Wen Kexing was overwhelmed at hearing such a huge declaration, delivered so casually.
“I want to leave this place…” he whispered. Hope trembled in his eyes like tears, fierce and fragile.
“We can leave and never come back,” Zhou Zishu promised. “We'll wander the world together until we find somewhere we want to stay, far, far away from here.”
Dawn started to creep into the sky.
“I have to go,” Wen Kexing said with sorrow in his eyes.
“I know. Two days. I’ll be back in two days.”
“Promise me,” Wen Kexing demanded, taking Zhou Zishu’s hand in a bruising grip.
“I promise you,” Zhou Zishu told him gently, fervently, kissing Wen Kexing’s white knuckled hand.
*********
At the ball Zhou Zishu danced dutifully with all the visiting young ladies, as was expected of him, but he could barely make himself feign interest. He felt bad for them. It wasn’t their fault they had no hope of catching his eye. In addition to his prospective brides and their entourages, the attendees included every influential courtier who resided at the palace. He danced with them, too, which was less painful than making small talk with strangers.
There was Princess Jing’an, a distant cousin of the prince whom he loved like a sister, and whose gentle humor gave him his first laugh of the night. He danced with the lovely but cold Lady Qiao Luohan, who seemed just as upset as he was to be there. There was comfort to be found in shared misery. The flamboyant Lady Du Pusa was as sultry and alluring as usual. Zhou Zishu was unfortunately focused enough on avoiding her flirtations and distracted by thoughts of Wen Kexing that he didn’t notice the cloud of powder she blew gently into his face at the end of their dance…
The eccentric nobleman Zhao Jing arrived late and with great fanfare, his ward Zhao Xie in tow. They were both utterly resplendent in glittering robes of black, wrapped in velvet and decked in jewels. Zhou Zishu, drugged and suggestible, overheard Du Pusa asking Qiao Luohan whether the sweet, dark haired boy reminded her of a swan. He looks uncannily like one, doesn’t he? And indeed, Zhao Xie, pale and lithe, looked very much like Wen Kexing, so much, in fact, that for a drugged and euphoric Zhou Zishu the distinction between them blurred, and in almost no time at all he found himself ecstatically approaching their retinue, overjoyed to see that his beloved had escaped his captivity and managed to arrive at the ball. This stunning creature, of course, was the enigmatic youth he’d fallen in love with!
Zhou Zishu ran to Han Ying with stars in his eyes, swearing that he would declare his intentions for his beloved here and now, in front of the entire royal court.
Han Ying found the whole thing more than a little suspicious.
Even setting aside the fact that such public declarations were entirely uncharacteristic behavior for Zhou Zishu, hadn’t the man lamented to Han Ying only a few days before that Wen Kexing’s curse prevented him from ever leaving the lake in human form? Something seemed wrong, that the youth should be here in the palace. Han Ying implored his friend to listen, to consider the matter rationally, but Zhou Zishu would hear none of it. His beloved found a way to be at his side! Surely nothing else mattered, now that they were together.
Unsettled, Han Ying slipped out of the ballroom and rode for the lake in the misty valley along the path Zhou Zishu had described to him.
Zhou Zishu shared one dance with Zhao Xie, then another, then another, and with every passing moment grew more and more enamored of him, his cool, jade-like skin, his eyes as placid as the surface of the lake, his full lips that made Zhou Zishu wish to kiss him here and now, in front of all of these people.
“You would kiss me in public and have these people think the worst of me!” Zhao Xie chided playfully. “I won’t have it. You must free me from my curse forever, my love. Promise me that we will cultivate our energies together. Share your life force with me. Become mine, one flesh, now and forever.”
“Did I not tell you already, in the woods? Of course I will. You are mine, and I am yours. You are the one that knows my soul, Lao Xie. Damn this world forever, if anyone tries to part you from me.”
Zhao Xie beamed at his words, the smile lighting up his already lovely face.
“You will cultivate your spirit with mine, then? You will share your life force with me, and free me from my curse?”
“My life already belongs to you, Lao Xie. Would you have me prove it?”
Overtaken by great emotion, Zhou Zishu approached the prince, declaring, “This is my partner. My soulmate. My beloved. This is the one with whom I will share my life. I will have no other.”
The prince looked warily at the mania in Zhou Zishu’s eyes, and looked askance at Lord Zhao, but he could see no foul play. Lord Zhou’s choice of bride was not as advantageous as he had hoped, but then again, it was good to keep such untrustworthy characters as Zhao Jing close at hand. It would do.
Benevolently, he offered his blessing, and the whole room raised their voices in celebration.
Following the night’s festivities, the newly promised couple snuck away to Zhou Zishu’s room. The moon was high in the sky, the candlelight low as Zhou Zishu went to undress his love for the first time. He was so lovely… It was astonishing that they could be together forever now. It… in fact it was hard to believe. Impossible?
Wait.
Zhou Zishu’s head felt muddled even as he ran a hand over his beloved’s warm flank. Something felt wrong. Off.
“What’s wrong, my love? Are you getting cold feet?” his promised one asked with a shy smile. “Does my form not please you?”
Of course it did, he was the most beautiful creature Zhou Zishu had ever seen. Flames of desire burned low inside of him as he regarded Zhao Xie in the candlelight. It’s just that… something was missing. He couldn’t put his finger on what… he must have had too much wine at the ball.
As he undressed, Zhou Zishu tried to put his disquiet out of his mind, and went to join his beloved in bed. They embraced. The kiss was luscious, soft, warm. Zhao Xie arched into his touch, trembling with desire.
“Take me now, my love,” he begged Zhou Zishu, breathless with arousal.
Zhou Zishu groaned in response, pulling their bodies tight against each other, rolling their hips together, reveling in the feeling of their naked bodies moving in harmony for the very first time…
But it wasn’t right, Something wasn’t right. This… this didn’t feel like it had before, in the valley.
Zhou Zishu sat up, feeling alarmed and disoriented..
Xie Wang looked at him with guileless concern.
But then Zhou Zishu saw it -– a white swan wearing a crown stuck through with wen kexing’s white jade pin appeared in the window.
Wen Kexing’s jade pin. Wen Kexing…
Wen Kexing! Zhou Zishu remembered suddenly, panicking. Oh god, what have I done?
“YOU!” he cursed at the imposter in his bed. “You’re a monster!”
Zhao Xie smirked coldly.
“I’m your monster, though, my love. You promised yourself to me and me alone. Don’t forget.”
Zhou Zishu went to strike him, but in the end he stayed his hand.
The words were cruel, but Zhao Xie’s eyes were sad. Zhou Zishu knew that look; he wore it often enough to recognize it. That was the look of a man whose life was not under his own control. This slip of a boy wasn't to blame for his grief. It was his master. Zhou Zishu couldn’t afford to be distracted now. Panicked, desperate, he abandoned Zhao Xie and ran out of the castle.
*********
In the clearing Wen Kexing was sobbing to Liu Qianqiao and Luo Fumeng about Zhou Zishu’s infidelity –- in the end he had not kept his vow of love.
“I swear I thought he was different,” he lamented, heartbroken. “How could I let myself be so stupid?”
One of the others called out, in bird form, from the sky. Zhou Zishu was approaching, the duplicitous bastard, and the swans were gathering as the first hints of rosy dawn started to creep in on the edges of the dark night.
The two ladies prepared to leave and urged Wen Kexing to fly away with them as well, but Wen Kexing knew he couldn’t do that. He needed to see Zhou Zishu one last time. He needed to know why he had done what he had done.
I will tell him my goodbyes and drown my broken heart in this lake of forgetfulness. Being a human has only ever brought me pain. It’s time to leave it. I will be a swan. Wen Kexing is nothing but a ghost.
But it wasn’t only Zhou Zishu who approached them. Wen Kexing watched Zhou Zishu ride hard on horseback towards the lake with the sorcerer, Zhao, hot on his heels.
What is he running so fast for? Wen Kexing thought bitterly. Has he not found his companion? A human companion, unburdened by this curse?
That was certainly the impression Han Ying had gotten, when he came to deliver the news that would break Wen Kexing’s heart.
But something was wrong. The sorcerer attacked Zhou Zishu, but he didn’t retreat. He seemed to be forcing himself towards Wen Kexing, step by step, despite the blows he was receiving, which had to be agonizing. Were these the actions of a man who had forsaken his lover?
What is going on here?
The sorcerer was relentless, sending blow after blow of lightning hot energy from his staff. Zhou Zishu was a hardy sort, but also clearly badly injured.
“Lao Wen!” he called, desperate. “Lao Wen, I didn’t know. I was tricked! Zhao Jing, he’s the sorcerer… I didn’t know… I thought… they made me think he was you.”
A trick, of course. Of course this evil man wouldn’t let me go without stacking the deck against me. And then Wen Kexing’s heart broke for the second time that night.
“You gave him your vow,” he called out, miserable. “You promised yourself to another.”
“I gave you my vow,” Zhou Zishu insisted. Oh, he was naïve, wasn’t he?
That’s not how this works, beloved,” Wen Kexing said softly, tears in his eyes, “For what it’s worth, I believe you. But the curse? The curse doesn’t care. You have betrayed me, and you can no longer call yourself a faithful lover. You can’t undo this trespass.”
“The hell I can’t,” Zhou Zishu spat out in righteous anger.
“You can’t,” Wen Kexing told him, “but I love you anyway. And I will make sure you get out of here alive.”
He moved to put himself in between Zhou Zishu and the sorcerer, this Zhao Jing who had destroyed his life now for the second time.
I will take my revenge, or die trying.
“Lao Wen,” Zhou Zishu called, his voice full of alarm, “what are you doing?”
“You’re hurt,” Wen Kexing replied as though that answered his question.
You can’t go on like this. I will share your burden, my love. I will save your life. This is all I have left to give you.
With that, Wen Kexing grabbed Zhou Zishu’s sword right out of his bloodied hand, and started fighting.
He was naturally talented but he hadn’t handled a sword regularly since he was a child. It wasn’t long before Zhao Jing caught him with a lightning strike in the chest. Wen Kexing was smart enough to know the wound was mortal. The sword fell to the damp ground.
"No!” Zhou Zishu screamed, a hard, broken thing, and he flew forward, taking up his sword and stabbing Zhao Jing.
The strike was true, and Zhao Jing would not survive, but before he fell he struck out one last time. Zhou Zishu was too weak to block or dodge the strike. It hit him squarely in the chest – he, too, was doomed.
Crying out in anguish, Wen Kexing dragged himself to his feet and collapsed against his love. Together they fell together in the lake, arms wrapped around each other. They were both crying.
So be it, Wen Kexing thought to himself as the water closed over his head. At least we’re together, Swans, after all, mate for life.
*********
Liu Qianqiao came back as the tendrils of dawn began to light the sky and sobbed as she dragged Wen Kexing and his lover out of the lake. Frantically she worked to revive them, blowing air into their lungs.
“Don’t swallow the water, stupid child,” Luo Fumeng chastised. “Spit it all out.”
Liu Qianqiao didn’t care about the water. She knew her curse was permanent now, what was the point of remembering? But then again, she had her lady to serve. Dutifully she spat out the water of forgetfulness onto the loamy earth.
“They will live,” she told Luo Fumeng with a hint of wonder. “How did they survive?”
Luo Fumeng smiled sadly.
“When the lord threw himself in front of that last attack, the depth of his devotion was proven to be sufficient. Wen Kexing wasn’t wrong -– a promise made under false pretenses can be binding for magic this old, but not if a heart knows, beyond doubt, exactly what it wants. Zhou Zishu’s heart was true. They will wake, and as long as they mingle their energies they will live, but they won’t remember this night. The water makes you forget your worst agonies. They won’t remember watching each other die.”
“Their wounds…”
“Will be fine. Now hurry child, they’re waking up. We should go and leave them to each other. They have to cultivate in order to heal and… well… Some magic is best worked privately.”
Liu Qianqio blushed furiously at the implication.
“Dawn is coming fast,” she pointed out to her mistress, “Let us fly.”
And then they were gone.
*********
Zhou Zishu woke up disoriented.
What happened… the lake… oh, God, Wen Kexing!
His beloved was beside him on the lake shore, unconscious. Zhou Zishu shook him awake, frantic with worry until he saw his limpid eyes open and watched a small smile spread across his lovely face.
Laughing with relief, Zhou Zishu centered his qi.
He pulled Wen Kexing to sit and face him, and clasped their hands together between them.
“Show me what to do,” he begged.
Tears of joy fell from Wen Kexing’s eyes as he nodded.
“Like this,” he explained, closing his eyes and letting a tendril of his life force flow through their linked hands into Zhou Zishu. Zhou Zishu gasped at the sensation, hot like desire and as vital as life itself. Euphoric, he passed his own life force back into Wen Kexing. Faintly, he felt an answering surge of arousal.
“Again,” Wen Kexing instructed.
Together they traded energy back and forth until they could both breathe normally and the wounds they had sustained only ached instead of burning.
They fell together on the lake shore, a tangle of arms and legs and teeth.
“I’m sorry,” Zhou Zishu whispered into his love’s hair, “I’m sorry… I thought he was you…”
“You’re mine,” Wen Kexing growled in response, tearing open Zhou Zishu’s clothes. “You’re not his. I will mark you all over, I will destroy any trace he has left on you. You’re mine. Kiss me, make me believe you’re mine.”
They came together on the forest floor, one body, one soul, gasping in pleasure and pain and euphoria of victory over evil.
“He tried to take you from me, but now he’s dead and we’re alive. We’re alive and you’re mine.”
Zhou Zishu wasn’t sure which one of them had spoken. It didn’t matter. The words were true, either way. So lost in each other were they that they didn’t even notice the sun rising.
“A’Xu…” Wen Kexing, breathed, wondrous, “there’s a light on you…”
It was the sun. The curse was broken.
They cried with joy and relief.
“Let the prince think we’re dead,” Zhou Zishu declared. “Let’s leave this place, just like you wanted.”
“Where will we go?” Wen Kexing asked.
“Anywhere we want. Does it matter? I would be content to wander the world, drinking wine and sleeping under the moon, just as long as we’re together.”
And so that’s exactly what they did.
The End