“Dammit.” Chen Wuya kicked a stone and watched it bounce off, his brows furrowed in fury. He lifted Zui Jiu’s sword, but thought better of it and lowered it rather than throw it. Crossing his arms, he stomped off.

A hand caught his shoulder. He whirled. “Fen Long, you—”

“You’re injured. We should tend to your wounds.”

Chen Wuya glanced down. His robes flapped open around the chest, cut horizontally. Blood poured down, soaking into the red fabric. He scowled, but couldn’t refute Fen Long. I can’t afford to die now. Not now that I’ve found a clue, after so long!

He plopped down, back against a tree, and crossed his arms. “Fine.”

Fen Long shook his head at Chen Wuya’s antics and crouched beside him. Gently, he nudged Chen Wuya’s arms apart to get a better look at his chest. A flinch passed across his face. He reached into his pouch, drawing out a pot of poultice and some bandages.

“It isn’t that bad,” Chen Wuya sighed.

“It looks like it hurts a lot,” Fen Long replied softly, eyelids dipping.

Chen Wuya harrumphed and turned away. Ah? You care about that now? What about when you stabbed me in the heart, Kai Bailong?

…if he is Kai Bailong. He uses the same techniques, but if it really is a common manual, then that isn’t as reliable a way to identify that nanny as I thought it was. And there’s always Jing Fengge. What was his deal with me, if he wasn’t Kai Bailong? I haven’t done anything to offend anyone yet.

Fen Long raised two fingers and carefully dabbed the poultice along the cut, brows furrowed. Cold rushed into Chen Wuya’s chest, then a stinging, acid sensation worse than the cut itself. He scowled, refusing to give Fen Long the satisfaction of making him cry out.

But Fen Long… Fen Long brought up the Four Colors Sect. Shouldn’t everyone have forgotten about an ancient, ruined sect like that by now? I’ll have to ask around. If it isn’t common knowledge, then…

Sharp pain broke through his thoughts. He flinched, jerking away, and scowled at Fen Long.

“Hold still. It’s deeper here, I need to clean the wound,” Fen Long said.

“Can’t you do it gently?” Chen Wuya grumbled.

Fen Long put on an apologetic face. “Sorry.”

With a grunt, he started to cross his arms, then dropped them and turned away.

The Four Colors Sect. I haven’t thought about that in a long time. Those were the days… Ignoring Fen Long’s dabbling as best he could, Chen Wuya escaped to the past.

--

A sword arced through the air, spinning. It caught the sunlight and gleamed, once, then slammed into the granite training pad and skittered off into the corner. A young Kai Bailong in white and blue robes stared up at him, disarmed, his eyes big and round like a deer’s.

Charging in, Qiu Xuanwu thrust his sword. A second before the tip pierced Kai Bailong’s chest, he stopped dead. Dust flew up around them, swirling on the light breeze.

Sweat dripped down Kai Bailong’s face. He looked down, then up, slowly, along Qiu Xuanwu’s sword, past the red hems of his robe, all the way up to his impassive face. Eyes wide, he gulped.

Qiu Xuanwu chuckled darkly. “‘I’m so much stronger now,’ was it? ‘I can even defeat Elder Brother,’ no? Where are those skills of yours, Kai Bailong? Did you forget them? Leave them at home, perhaps?”

“I—that, that was just… idle talk. Please forgive me,” Kai Bailong replied, shivering in fear.

“Idle talk. And I’m supposed to forgive you with that?” Qiu Xuanwu murmured. He lowered his sword and shook his head, long hair swishing down his back.

Kai Bailong bowed deeply, cupping his hands at Qiu Xuanwu. “Junior Brother accepts his punishment.”

A few of the watching disciples murmured amongst each other, exchanging glances. One or two hid grins or laughed quietly, amused.

Qiu Xuanwu cut his eyes in their direction. His stony expression turned disapproving. “Laughing at a fellow disciple’s distress? What are we teaching our disciples? This is the Four Colors Sect, not some shitty no-name teaching grounds. You are the Four Colors Sect’s noble disciples, not some mortal rabble!”

The disciples paled, especially the ones who’d been talking or laughing. A few bowed abruptly.

“I think you could all use a lesson in respect. And the best way to learn respect… is through pain. A hundred laps from the foot to the peak of the mountain, now! The slowest ten get ten extra laps!”

The disciples stared. Jaws gaped. One of the disciples turned and ran, and a second later, the rest of them chased after, desperate not to be in the final ten.

Kai Bailong stood before him, still bowed.

Qiu Xuanwu arched a brow. “Are you asking me for the extra ten laps? Go!”

Startled, Kai Bailong took off like a rabbit chased by a fox.

Tucking his hands into his sleeves, Qiu Xuanwu watched the disciples go. He shook his head and sighed. I’m going to have my work cut out for me with this crop…

--

“Take your robes off.”

Startled back to the present, Chen Wuya furrowed his brows at Fen Long. “What?”

Fen Long held up a roll of bandages. “I need to bind your wounds.”

Grunting, he sat forward, peeling the upper half of his robes down. “You could’ve led with that.”

“I did. You weren’t listening.”

Another grunt. He lifted his arms. Fen Long began to wrap his chest.

“You’re handy with medicines,” Chen Wuya remarked.

“I… have some experience,” Fen Long acknowledged.

Chen Wuya twisted his lips thoughtfully. Turning his head slightly, he observed Fen Long’s profile, the way he bit his tongue as he worked. Cold hands drew the bandages tight, but Chen Wuya refused to flinch. I don’t remember Kai Bailong having any particular talent in pill cultivation or medicine, unlike this Fen Long. But then, we mostly fought. It’s not as if he’d bind my wounds after trying to kill me.

Though… it would explain how he was able to crawl back to safety and recover every time he lost, the cockroach.

“Despite how you look, you’re a very thoughtful person, aren’t you?” Fen Long said quietly.

“Ah? What’s that mean?” Chen Wuya asked, narrowing his eyes at Fen Long.

“Nothing, nothing. There! All done.” He raised his hands and sat back, then began to pack up his materials.

Chen Wuya caught his wrist. “You’re hurt too, aren’t you?”

“Eh? It’s only a scratch,” Fen Long replied.

“Turn around,” Chen Wuya demanded, stealing the poultice and bandages.

“Junior Brother, there’s no need.”

“No, no. Let me get my revenge—ahem. Help you,” he said, smirking. He grabbed Fen Long’s shoulder and whirled him around.

A shocking gash slit Fen Long’s robes. Blood stained white robes crimson from his shoulders to mid-back. Chen Wuya clicked his tongue. “No need?”

“I…” Fen Long hesitated. He glanced over his shoulder and bit his lip.

Gripping Fen Long’s robes at the neck, Chen Wuya yanked them open to reveal a pair of dark red gashes nearly deep enough to reveal bone. He narrowed his eyes. “Prepare yourself.”

Fen Long took a short breath. “Junior Brother, please be gentle?”

“Hold still. You’re making it harder.”

“Ah! Stop, it hurts!”

“You aren’t getting away. Let me finish.”

A pitiable moan.

Chen Wuya tightened the bandage and sighed, giving Fen Long a pat on the shoulder. “There. Done.”

Fen Long pulled his robes back up. “Thank you.”

“Here.” Chen Wuya held out a fresh white robe.

Fen Long looked at it, then at him, a quizzical look on his face.

“It’s yours, don’t refuse it. I don’t need it, but your back is a mess. You need to keep it warm,” Chen Wuya said.

“Your chest…”

“My robes are red. I’ll stitch it shut and no one will be any the wiser,” he declared.

Fen Long hesitated a moment longer, then took the robes. “I’ll remember this.”

“No need. They’re yours, aren’t they?” Chen Wuya said, rolling his eyes. I don’t need your gratitude, Kai Bailong.

“I’ll remember it, anyways,” Fen Long murmured, half to himself.

Looking out over the dark forest, Chen Wuya yawned. “Let’s head back to the caravan before anything else jumps out of the bushes.”