Xueming was in fact disturbed in his guest residence by his own brother.

  Lanzhi hardly waited for Xueming’s response before he barged into the room, his single, heartless knock no more than a formality.

  He eyed his younger brother, who was lazing on the bed, half-curled like some beaten down animal as he stood in the doorway. His gaze was steady and unrelenting, and his mouth quivered but he didn’t say a word.

  “Lanzhi-ge?” Xueming attempted to lift his head off the bed, but it felt as though it weighed the same as a hundred sacks of wheat.

  “I am just checking in on you,” Lanzhi finally spoke, a light smile on his lips.

  Despite it being the evening, Lanzhi was still in his daytime robes, looking as though he hadn’t had the time or energy to change into something more comfortable.

  Xueming thought it was fortunate they had come in the robes they purchased on their journey home, or else they would look odd against the splendid backdrop of the Hao residence.

  No matter one’s station or condition, who would want to feel lacking amidst beautiful things?

  “Where were you?” Xueming peeked over at him from the bed. His head had fallen back on the pillow, his neck long given up on keeping him upright.

  To light up the room, a great many candles were placed wherever there was free space. It was keeping the room comfortably warm despite the cold of the coming winter seeping in through the windows. Xueming rather liked it here.

  “Assessing the master’s wife,” Lanzhi commented off-handedly.

  Now, Xueming pushed himself upright.

  The whole affair was curious—this woman seemed to be an open secret in the residence, and according to what he had heard from the servants, she had been ill for a long time. As long as he’d been in prison, as a matter of fact.

  “What is her condition?” Xueming wondered.

  Lanzhi pursed his lips and remained in his spot in the doorway, looking as though he had no intention to enter the room.

  “Not too good, to be honest. She…” Lanzhi paused, unsure how much he should say. “She had an incident when she was younger and… has never been the same since.”

  “What?” Xueming pondered, relying on his days of studying to take a wild guess at her condition. If her ailment was not physical, then she was most likely affected by the trauma and stress of whatever had happened. Almost as if he were playing a game, Xueming guessed: “Did she have some sort of… qi deviation?”

  Lanzhi looked thoughtful for a long while, then nodded, replying in a deep voice, “Something like that.”

  Xueming was quiet as well, then hummed, “Well then… typical medicine won’t do a thing.”

  Lanzhi finally stepped into the room, watching his younger brother with careful eyes.

  As he approached the bed, he wore a gentle smile on his face, and settled on the opposite side as Xueming. He ducked beneath the canopy draped over the bed to sit, looking unsurprised when he landed on a deep red silk comforter—embroidered, as expected, with dragons. He lifted his robes and placed them down carefully to ensure the outer layer did not touch the bed.

  “What… will you do then?” Xueming asked, his unblinking eyes shining with the blank wonder of a child.

  Lanzhi smiled bitterly, sweeping his hand over the edge of his robes, his eyes cast down.

  “I will do what I can, but I fear it won’t be enough. It is long past the time for the honorable lady to be able to recover with simple stabilizing procedures,” Lanzhi clucked his tongue, his eyes a little hazy.

  Xueming’s eyes looked to the side as he thought, a little confused by the whole situation.

  “Didn’t the master hire… private doctors?” Xueming said beneath his breath. “It’s been years…”

  He was still quite awkward with words, and even poorer at explaining his thoughts, but Lanzhi understood what he meant. His brother sighed, the look on his face as if he was speaking about an old, troubled friend.

  “Master Hao spent his life grounded in the tangible, far removed from the world of cultivation. He was already skeptical, but when he heard doctors claim that the honorable lady had deviated, he would chase them out, dismissing it all as mere fantasy.” Sighing, he rubbed his face with a hand, his sleeve willowing with the rapid movement. “I hate to say it, but her condition is beyond my ability.”

  To hear such a thing was strange for even Xueming, who had the instincts of someone who had spent their adolescence cultivating. The entire situation made him curious, so he decided to press on about the matter.

  “Did the master’s wife deviate… after marrying into the Hao family?” Xueming wondered, brows furrowed.

  “As far as I know, the master brought her in not knowing what she had experienced,” Lanzhi spoke carefully, his voice pushing past clenched teeth. He looked a little tense, a little too red beneath the candlelight, but Xueming chalked it up to the reflection of the red sheets on his pale skin. “It is a little hard to know when exactly it started, but her fits have been reported since the day she was brought in.”

  Xueming pondered this information for a while, recalling that the servants had said she had been ill for as long as she had been here. Lanzhi’s version of the story seemed true enough.

  “Well, does the master’s wife… have a history of cultivating?” Xueming took a wild guess, watching his brother’s face just as hawkishly as his brother watched him. But Lanzhi’s expression was tightly controlled, as if he was reigning in every muscle. “Otherwise, there is not much else… that can cause this except for… some life-altering event.”

  Lanzhi remained quiet while Xueming thought about it. Finally, he decided to voice what he had learned.

  “One of the servants mentioned… the master’s wife has been suffering… for twenty-five years…” Xueming stared at Lanzhi with candid eyes, revealing the burning turmoil that existed beneath his indifferent expression. “Maybe… she experienced something… during that time… as well.”

  “No,” Lanzhi said firmly, as if he couldn’t deny Xueming’s prediction fast enough. “No history of cultivating,” he added. Then, to top it all off: “She was just a normal girl.”

  Xueming hummed, pinching the red satin beneath him until it was completely malformed. He idly watched it fall back into place, not quite the same as before.

  “Then something… must have happened,” Xueming said quietly, quite convinced despite his brother’s denial.

  “Forget it,” Lanzhi snapped, lifting himself from the bed. “There is nothing we can do. You are long past studying these matters and I am a doctor working with herbs. As the previous doctors before, I must simply manage symptoms.”

  Xueming frowned, rubbing the satin out, trying to smooth it.

  “The symptoms must be… quite dire at this point. It has… been so long.”

  Chuckling once, Lanzhi rubbed his face again, his back to his brother.

  “Dire,” he repeated in a harsh tone.

  “Well… are they not?” Xueming wondered, watching his brother’s back with a firm gaze.

  Lanzhi paused for a moment, then turned around and looked at Xueming. His expression was unreadable, but his own thoughts were apparent as soon as he opened his mouth.

  “How did you not have your own deviation?” He asked, eyes wild.

  Xueming’s speech suddenly failed him, his tongue turning to something consisting of jellied meat. His hands left sweat stains on that delicate satin, and his entire body went cold.

  “I don’t understand,” was all he could reply, and only after a long while.

  Lanzhi hid his face in his hands again, his entire body trembling as he walked away from the bed and towards the door.

  “I am sorry, didi,” he said in a low tone, sounding as though he found even those few words unbearable. “This is not fair to you.” He took a deep breath, his voice distant, as though he was speaking to only himself. “I came to check on you.”

  “Then check,” Xueming called after him, looking quite alarmed. His legs were oddly bent on the bed, as though he was ready to fall off of it.

  Lanzhi peered at his brother from across the room, balancing on the tips of his toes, swaying left, then right, as if he was torn between staying and leaving.

  “I should let you rest,” he finally concluded.

  But Xueming was already pushing himself off the bed, his legs wobbling as if they had turned to soft tofu. His head was spinning, and his vision was blurry. There was no certainty that he would be able to stand on his own right now, and Lanzhi noticed.

  Hurrying over, he went to place his arm beneath his brother’s and help him stand up, but Xueming actually remained seated, a small smile on his lips.

  Lanzhi scowled and helped Xueming scoot over so he was safely on the bed, then protectively stood beside him.

  “I don’t want to rest,” Xueming grumbled, feeling like a child as his brother towered over him. To think at his ripe age, he would have to use a trick to get his brother to stay! “I am restless.”

  Lanzhi had a small smile on his face when Xueming, who was scowling like a toddler, looked at him.

  “Just lie your head down at least,” Lanzhi suggested, but Xueming hit his hands away comically.

  Xueming stared at his brother a beat, then began to pick at the sheets again.

  “You knew them before,” Xueming said, but it wasn’t exactly a question.

  If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

  Lanzhi tilted his head to the side, his dark brown hair spilling over his shoulder like the ripples of a waterfall. He looked confused, and Xueming wondered when his brother had gotten so adept at lying.

  “You and that servant… spoke like you… knew each other,” Xueming observed carefully. “And you know a lot… about them.”

  His brother’s expression seemed to twitch, but it may have just been a trick of the candlelight.

  “No,” Lanzhi replied smoothly. Then: “Only in passing.” After a long pause, Lanzhi sighed and rubbed at his face, then said: “Master Hao is a well-known figure, and so is his unruly servant. I have met them before, yes.”

  Xueming swallowed hard, trying to organize his thoughts into something coherent.

  Why would he deny it at first?

  “Will you forgive me?” Lanzhi asked, peeking between his fingers with one eye.

  Xueming’s heart began to beat with a dull thud.

  “For what?” He finally croaked out.

  Lanzhi stared at him for a long while, then finally lowered his hands. The face he revealed looked genuinely torn and sorrowful.

  “For speaking out of turn,” Lanzhi explained. “For making outrageous comments. My mind is always racing, as a doctor. As your brother.”

  Xueming could not exactly pinpoint what Lanzhi was speaking about, but he figured it was about something he had said earlier. Well, the man was always saying something. It was nothing new.

  And Xueming was not made of soft tofu, even if his legs acted otherwise.

  Lanzhi bent his knees a little so he was eye level with his brother, and took his hands into his own. His expression was stern, serious—more so than before.

  “I am harsh in my words, I know,” Lanzhi half-smiled. “But you don’t need to be concerned over any of my patients. I want you to just live as you please. I will take care of all the trouble.”

  Xueming stared at Lanzhi for a long while, then eventually smiled back.

  “Is this household trouble?”

  Lanzhi’s eyes flashed once and his own smile stiffened.

  “You said it,” Lanzhi hummed, then released his brother’s hands and began to walk towards the door, as if he had had enough of their conversation. Anymore, and maybe he’d be forced to say something he didn’t want to.

  “Then why bother with them?” Xueming asked innocently.

  Scowling, Lanzhi only continued towards the door, waving his hand as if it was the most unconcerning thing in the world.

  “There is a debt.”

  And with that, Xueming was left alone in the room, feeling quite disturbed.

  Xueming fell asleep in a fit, waking up far too often to enter any sort of peaceful sleep. It was as thought his body was not letting him fall into a deep sleep, afraid of the nightmares that would haunt him.

  The sheets were no longer cooling his body, and instead felt like they were trapping heat. After another frustrated roll over in the bed, Xueming pushed himself out of bed, stripping all of his robes, feeling the sweat on his skin vanish almost instantly, causing him to shiver.

  Most of the candles had gone out and despite the insulation in the room being quite good, it was getting colder as the night went on.

  Half-naked, Xueming went to the window to look out, but there were only a few lanterns lit, so he could hardly see anything but his own distraught reflection.

  It was definitely some odd hour in the morning, given how dark it was, and yet, Xueming decided to wander outside. He put his outer robes back on, along with his shoes, and stepped out into the cool air. It felt like a wave of relief on his overheated body.

  Xueming and Lanzhi were staying in guest residences in the inner courtyard, which could only mean Master Hao held their presence in high esteem.

  As he stepped outside, he heard a trail of soft chattering, and out of curiosity, decided to follow it.

  Xueming stepped away from the residences, away from the light the lanterns provided, into the darker areas of the courtyard. He walked towards the sound of the voices, and slowed down when he squinted and realized it was Master Hao and Lanzhi, both seated under a lantern hanging off the main hall.

  There was a distinct bubbling sound that itched at Xueming’s brain and he peered at the master’s feet, following a pipe all the way up to his lips. The master was smoking from a water pipe, while Lanzhi, quite predictably, abstained a few feet away.

  The two were standing and discussing something in low voices, and Xueming had half a heart to interrupt them and half a heart to listen from a distance.

  “No,” Lanzhi said in a bitter tone.

  Xueming was only partially shocked to hear him speak so harshly, especially to Master Hao. The master did in fact lose his status with the king’s demise, but there was still a ghost of it there. Besides, he was still the master of the Hao residence, which garnered respect from its sheer size alone.

  Lanzhi never really cared about trivialities like status, only respecting them to give the other person the face their ego demanded.

  “Doctor Jian,” the master protested. Xueming noticed he was unrelenting even in the face of anger. “Your younger brother needs time to recover.” He paused, a little hesitant, having the gall to add: “I do not want what happened to my wife to happen to him.”

  Lanzhi turned to the master, a feral gleam in his eyes. He looked like an animal with nothing to lose.

  “Xueming is different!” he shouted, then, collecting himself, said in a low voice: “He is stronger.”

  The master sighed, and that bubbling sound itched at Xueming’s brain again.

  It seemed Xueming had walked in on a rather heated argument, and like watching some bad play, he couldn’t look away.

  Xueming even started holding his breath to ensure he could hear them both clearly.

  Puffing out a cloud of smoke, Master Hao breathed out, “He is indeed. But why force him to continue enduring? Let me help him a little.”

  “This won’t help him,” Lanzhi said, a little calmer, but his tone was still frigid.

  “He needs some direction now.” Master Hao continued. “We can endure even hell if we have something to hold onto. Let me give him at least that.”

  Lanzhi flew into a fit again.

  “You think he had anything to hold onto in Mo Fan?” he whisper-shouted. “He did not even remember his own name! He forgot all of us just to endure! Heaven knows what they tortured him with!”

  The two men were quiet, and Master Hao did not even take another puff of smoke in.

  Xueming felt his heart in his ears. His throat was lodged with something thick and suffocating. He gasped out a little for breath.

  “...I just want to help him in some way.” Master Hao admitted softly.

  “Help him by leaving him alone.” Lanzhi snapped viciously. “It is better for you to stay out of his life.” Then, even harsher: “It is better for those two to stay out of each other’s lives.” Master Hao must have given him a look, because Lanzhi continued, “What? You want to lose what little you have of your wife?”

  Master Hao was silent for a long while.

  “Maybe…” Master Hao eventually huffed out. “Maybe I have not acted in the best of ways…” Lanzhi actually remained quiet, letting him work out his thoughts. “But I have watched her suffer for so long. Yes, I cannot let her go, but, I cannot help but feel as though I have some responsibility in this. That I can do something…”

  Lanzhi sighed, pacing a little as Master Hao blew bubbles again.

  The scented air from the pipe eventually reached Xueming, even from a distance, and Xueming grimaced, finding the smell too harsh.

  “In your own way, you saved her.” Lanzhi coughed a little, refusing to look at the master. Instead, he looked off to the guest residences. “I could not do the same for my brother. Who am I to worsen your guilt?”

  Master Hao seemed to cough a little as well, though it didn’t seem to be from smoking.

  “There’s nothing I can do, you know,” Lanzhi said in a sad voice. “Her illness is in the heart. There is no medicine to treat that.”

  Master Hao nodded once, and Xueming heard that bubbling again.

  “I know,” he eventually croaked out, but the words came out broken, half-audible, as if mimicking the sound of his own heart splitting.

  Xueming felt his vision blur, and he lifted his gaze to the sky, finding the stars just blobs of light. The moon was bright tonight, so bright that it bled and blurred at the edges. He felt an ache in his throat, but he did not know why.

  “My wife was, of course, quite affected by what had occurred,” Master Hao suddenly said, lost in his own thoughts. He was hardly speaking to Lanzhi anymore “But it was only on our wedding night…” He huffed out a puff of smoke. “That night…” His voice cracked. “I hadn’t ever seen her like that.”

  Lanzhi looked over at the master thoughtfully, thinking like a doctor again.

  “It was likely she had her…” He paused. “...mental break then.”

  Master Hao remained silent, and Lanzhi looked at him, a little puzzled.

  “You know, don’t you?” Lanzhi said in realization.

  Master Hao made a small noise.

  “It is hard not to.” He took another inhale of the smoke. “Well, I will tell you another night.” His smile tightened, his face hidden by a mirage of smoke. “Let us retire. I will hardly be able to sleep the rest of the night if I am to remember such awful things.”

  Xueming cursed silently, feeling as though he was just on the verge of saying something that would be decipherable. So far, it was quite difficult to understand what the two were saying without the context they obviously had.

  Lanzhi made no signs of movement.

  “Then,” Lanzhi started, his tone a little heavy. “You admit it. After all these years.”

  Master Hao breathed out languidly until he had no more breath to breathe out.

  Finally, he took the bait.

  “What?”

  “Your wife’s condition…” Lanzhi started, then stopped, as if he didn’t know what he wanted to say. He was on the attack, and he realized he didn’t even know why. “Well, you acknowledge it is beyond my abilities. This isn’t just some simple trauma…” He stopped again, cursing beneath his breath, at a loss for words. “Fox spirits… they…”

  “Stop,” Master Hao pleaded. “I asked you here because you are the only option I have left.” With surprising self-awareness, he threatened: “Don’t make me chase you out as well, doctor.”

  Lanzhi narrowed his eyes.

  “After all these years, you still won’t.”

  Master Hao sighed, then inhaled again, looking far older than his age, as if the years had worn him down tenfold.

  “Doctor Jian,” Master Hao said calmly. “Even if I were to admit it, what would that solve?”

  Lanzhi smiled bitterly, his voice almost a growl.

  “Perhaps nothing,” Lanzhi admitted. “Perhaps it would make me feel better though.”

  “Why?” Master Hao wondered, utterly puzzled. “What care do you have in the matter?”

  Lanzhi’s words came out so low, Xueming hardly heard them.

  “Maybe then you could admit to yourself this was all way over your head.”

  Master Hao made a noise, his brows furrowing as he pointed his pipe at Lanzhi.

  “It was,” he said nonchalantly. “There. What now? Do you also want me to put my wife out on the streets?”

  Lanzhi turned away as if he could no longer bear to see him.

  “You don’t need to guilt me,” Master Hao chuckled sadly. “I already do that well enough on my own.”

  It was a long, long while before anyone spoke again, and Xueming peered in the darkness, wondering if they had left. But the two were still standing there, mulling over everything that had been said in their heads.

  Neither looked at the other when Master Hao broke the silence.

  “Thank you…” The master said as he collected his water pipe from off of the ground, looking as though even bending over was strenuous for his body. “...For what you are doing for my Qingling.”

  Lanzhi scoffed, already walking away.

  “It is hardly anything.” He said bitterly. “It is like throwing a pot of water on a forest fire.” Then, he peered over one last time, the expression on his face violently unrestrained. “And don’t say that name again while my brother is here.”

  走火入魔 - Zou Huo Ru Mo or Qi Deviation (lit: to catch fire and enter demonhood)

  Thank you for reading up to this point :)