Chapter 93:
Pieces of the Past
ANOTHER FLASH. They were in Jiangnan now, on a luxuriant spring day in the third month of the year. Hongjun and Lu Xu, hands still linked, hovered above an embankment lush with willow trees and watched as his father rowed a little boat along the river. The young Hongjun leaned over the wooden side, staring down at the fish in the lake.
Beside him, his mother whipped her delicate hand into the water and splashed Hongjun in the face. The child Hongjun stared at her, completely dumbfounded, as she burst into laughter.
Watching this scene, Hongjun and Lu Xu couldn’t help chuckling as well.
Their surroundings changed again: Amid rolling thunder and torrential rain, a black jiao threaded its sinuous body into a temple atop a high peak and transformed into Yang Guozhong.
Hongjun and Lu Xu peered into the courtyard. Yang Guozhong and Kong Xuan sat shoulder to shoulder beneath the temple’s eaves, their faces upturned as they watched the rain.
“He really wasn’t the one who forced us to move,” Hongjun said.
“It’s odd, isn’t it?” Lu Xu said as he studied Kong Xuan and Yang Guozhong. “Why does it seem like your dad is sometimes Xie Yu’s enemy, but at other times, they’re friends?”
“It’s been years,” said Hongjun, furrowing his brow. “Maybe they made peace with each other—or maybe Xie Yu has deceived him. Lu Xu, do you hate Xie Yu?”
“Life is inherently unpredictable,” Lu Xu responded. “What use is hatred? If I hadn’t fallen under Xie Yu’s control, my mother and father wouldn’t have died. I killed my parents, just like you.”
“But Xie Yu was the one who caused all this,” Hongjun protested.
“The timber has already been carved into a boat,” Lu Xu said. “To be born, to grow old, to get sick, to die—all of these are inevitable. What point is there in hating him? Sooner or later, Xie Yu will die as well.”
“You saw the future?”
“I simply believe this to be true.”
Spring turned into autumn, and the leaves yellowed and fell from their branches. As the scenery blurred and then sharpened again, Hongjun and Lu Xu found themselves in the Chang’an of many years past.
Little Hongjun—several years older now—glanced over his shoulder as he scampered out into the courtyard.
“Kong Chouxing!” his mother shouted after him.
Hongjun called something back in response and waved a hand at Li Jinglong, who was perched atop the courtyard wall. Li Jinglong promptly ducked down, while Hongjun hurried over to a flowerbed, where he pretended a great interest in the worms.
“I’m heading to the West Market to get these sold,” his mother said, striding toward him as she sorted through a stack of embroidered pouches. “What do you want for dinner?”
“Anything’s fine,” Hongjun responded, bored.
“This child—why hasn’t he been clamoring for meat lately?” Jia Yuze wondered to herself as she stepped out the door.
“We were so poor when I was little,” Hongjun commented as he watched from above.
“My family was even poorer,” Lu Xu said.
Hongjun didn’t know what to say. To think his mother had been forced to sell her embroidery work to support the family. There was no sign of his father in this scene; very likely, he was out plying his trade as a doctor.
“Gege! Gege!” As soon as his mother was out of sight, Hongjun called toward the other side of the courtyard wall.
Little Li Jinglong poked his head back out. “Your mom’s gone?” He tossed a twisted rope ladder over the wall. Hongjun clambered to the top, and the two children pulled the ladder up after them.
Lu Xu and Hongjun drifted over the wall. The Li Jinglong before them had yet to turn ten. He lifted the lid off a food box and handed it to Hongjun, who dug in as if starved.
“Look how ravenous you were,” Lu Xu commented expressionlessly.
His childhood behavior was so embarrassing Hongjun wanted to disappear. But in the next breath Lu Xu consoled him. “As a kid, I used to eat anything I could get my hands on too. My family was so poor I could never eat my fill.”
Hongjun didn’t know whom he ought to blame, but as he watched his childhood self, he felt his throat tighten.
After Hongjun had eaten, Li Jinglong led him to the open-air corridor, where they played a game of weiqi. When they tired of their game, Li Jinglong opened a book, and Hongjun taught him meditation and martial arts.
“Why are you always so gloomy?” Li Jinglong asked.
“Because there’s a monster inside my body.”
“Is the monster inside you the monster of doom and gloom?”
The young Hongjun sank into a sullen silence.
“I’m sure it can be cured; don’t worry. Leave it to Gege.”
“It can’t. My parents have already tried a lot of things. They fight about it every day.”
“You don’t hate him?” Lu Xu asked, looking at Li Jinglong.
“I fell in love with him too quickly,” Hongjun replied helplessly. “What could I do?”
The spectral Hongjun and Lu Xu sat down on the wall, shoulders brushing, as the brilliant rays of the sun reached long fingers into the courtyard. Time sped by, and gradually, Hongjun felt a growing sense of familiarity, as if his memories were slowly returning.
Little Li Jinglong giggled as he taught Hongjun the Sogdian Whirl. They spun and stumbled around, bathed in sunlight, until Li Jinglong stopped and cocked his head. “What is it now?”
A voice was calling for Li Jinglong from outside. Hongjun took a step back. “Someone’s looking for you. You should go.”
“I’m not going,” Li Jinglong said, smiling at Hongjun.
Hongjun’s expression dimmed once more.
“Gege’s going to teach you how to play chuiwan.” Li Jinglong picked up a wooden stick and kicked at a ball.
The pair was halfway through their game when they heard Jia Yuze return. Hongjun clambered back over the wall while she searched the house for him. When it was time to part, he and Li Jinglong each clung to one side of the wall and stared at each other intently. Little Hongjun opened his mouth, then hesitated; after a spell, he turned and hopped down from the wall, running off without saying goodbye.
“If a seven-year-old child told you there was a monster inside him,” Hongjun said, almost absently, “would you believe him?” As Lu Xu started in surprise, he continued, brow creased, “A lot of little kids make up fantastical stories. No matter who they tell, no one would really believe them, right?”
After a moment of thought, Lu Xu said, “You think he’s already Di Renjie’s pawn?”
On the other side of the wall, Li Jinglong picked up the wooden stick used for chuiwan and put it away, then settled beneath the eaves with a book and resumed reading.
“No.” Hongjun shook his head. “Look at his eyes—there’s no deceit there.”
Lu Xu had also noticed this childish Li Jinglong was always smiling when he spoke to Hongjun. The grin that broke over his face the moment he saw the other boy transformed his countenance entirely. He remained content even after Hongjun left, and whenever he heard voices from the house next door, he couldn’t help looking up.
“Can you find the memory of when we first met?” Hongjun asked.
“I can try,” Lu Xu said, his voice low. He closed his eyes and tightened his grip on Hongjun’s hand.
Time flowed backward to a day in late autumn, when Kong Xuan’s family first moved into the courtyard. The seven-year-old Hongjun had only just stepped down from the carriage when the nine-year-old Li Jinglong walked through the back alley carrying a bamboo tube filled with chirping insects. As he stepped over the threshold of his house, he glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of Hongjun standing beside the carriage, looking back at him in a daze.
Li Jinglong stopped dead in his tracks.
Little Hongjun stared curiously at the bamboo tube in Li Jinglong’s hands. Neither said a word as time seemed to freeze.
“Chouxing!” Kong Xuan called from inside the courtyard.
As Hongjun hurried in after his father, a look of shock flickered over Li Jinglong’s face.
Why is he so stunned? Hongjun wondered.
“He’s stunned by your beauty,” Lu Xu answered. The dreamscape was made up of Hongjun’s subconscious; the moment Hongjun had a thought, Lu Xu sensed it.
“See how grubby he is?” Lu Xu pointed out. “Most kids look like that.”
“Jinglong’s family is rich,” Hongjun said with a laugh. “His playmates can’t be that bad.”