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Li Lianhua felt cold more often than not, now. The Bicha poison dug into him with relentless claws of ice, threatening to take his mind, his heart. He was exhausted, and resigned, and a little afraid. But every now and then, when he and Fang Duobing sat outside Lian Hua Lou, enjoying wine next to their small fire, he couldn’t help but feel that life was still kind, in small ways.
They spoke only lightly tonight, about Hulijing’s antics, the good weather, the relative success of Li Lianhua’s dinner effort (probably because Fang Duobing had been at his elbow the whole time, giving helpful-hinging-on-desperate pointers and generally preventing disastrous decisions from being made). But soon, they lapsed into a comfortable silence under the mixed moonlight and firelight, far from the world beyond.
That is, until Fang Duobing, spurred by wine to venture beyond the imposing blockade of Li Lianhua’s feigned indifference, decided to broach his own favorite topic.
He leaned over to Li Lianhua with a look of absolute sincerity that the latter had long learned to dread.
“Say, Li Lianhua. The hero in white…”
“Who?”
“You know who. The one who stopped Zongzheng Mingzhu during the Jin Mantang case. What if —“ Fang Duobing trailed off, as if forming a thought.
Li Lianhua raised his eyebrows minutely, to discourage the continued verbalization of said thought.
“What if — “ a distant expression began to spread across Fang Duobing’s face. “ — oh, never mind.” He smiled into the middle distance, clearly pleased with something, and took another drink of wine.
Li Lianhua would be damned if he let curiosity get the better of him. That being said — “What if what?” he asked in exasperation.
“Nothing. Just that I finally figured out who the hero in white is. At least, I know who sent him.”
That was unexpected. Li Lianhua strove for utter nonchalance, and managed a strangled, “Ah. Do you?”
“Of course,” said Fang Duobing with complete conviction, “it was Li Xiangyi.”
He smiled softly to himself, and looked down into his wine cup, thus completely missing Li Lianhua’s sudden and convincing impression of a gutted fish.
Li Lianhua continued to gape at him, momentarily struck dumb. At last remembering to scramble for solid ground, he began, “Of all the preposterous —“
Fang Duobing cut him off. “I’m not saying it was Li Xiangyi himself —“ Li Lianhua made a strange wheezing noise, which Fang Duobing steadfastly ignored “— I’m saying that the hero’s identity doesn’t matter. Somehow, my master knew I was in trouble and sent him to protect me. I can feel it.”
Drawing upon all the poise and tact he had, as a powerful sect leader, once possessed, Li Lianhua said tartly, “Who cares who sent him. Anyway, I didn’t see him. I think you made him up.”
Fang Duobing gave him an affronted look. “Li Lianhua. Why do you always insult my master? Every time I so much as mention Li Xiangyi you get like this.”
“Fang Duobing, let me tell you. You’re thinking about it too much. Li Xiangyi doesn’t think about you at all. He’s dead, remember? Once they’re gone, the dead neither help nor harm the living.” Li Lianhua turned resolutely away from him, frowning into the flames instead.
Fang Duobing eyed him sidelong. “I know what this is.”
“What.”
A smile crept back into Fang Duobing’s voice.
“You’re jealous.”
Li Lianhua coughed, whipping his head around to glare at Fang Duobing.
“What!”
Fang Duobing’s expression grew smug.
“I knew it.”
“Fang Xiaobao. You’re wrong.”
“Am not.”
“I am not jealous of that idiot. Dead idiot.”
“What have you got against him then?”
“Nothing! But —“ Li Lianhua cut himself off, throat suddenly tight with something between hatred and shame.
“But what?”
Tempering the emotion in his voice to something less vitriolic, Li Lianhua continued, “You believe he cares so much about you. How do you know that, when he was alive, he even thought of you? That giving you that wooden sword was more than a passing thought, that he truly wanted you to be his disciple?”
Guilt crawled in his throat even as he spoke. Showing your hand, Xiangyi. Evidently Fang Duobing hadn’t figured it out yet, but if he kept this up, it was only a matter of time.
Fang Duobing smiled. “Don’t worry, Li Lianhua. I just know. And even if he’s not in this world anymore, I know he’s been looking out for me, from the moment I left home to travel the martial world.”
“Really,” said Li Lianhua flatly. “How.”
“Because he sent me someone else, too.”
Li Lianhua raised his eyes heavenward. “Who was that, then? Let me guess — the hero in brown?”
“No. You.”
Slowly, Li Lianhua dropped his gaze back to earth, and dared to look at Fang Duobing. Fang Duobing’s smile had turned soft around the edges, and his eyes were crinkled with fondness.
“Ah,” he said weakly. “Fang Xiaobao. Now you’re just being sentimental.”
Fang Duobing leaned over and nudged his shoulder once, and then went back to his wine, taking a sip and gazing up at the moon with peaceful contentment.
Li Lianhua fiddled with the embers, and watched Fang Duobing, and felt something approaching happiness settle in his heart.