[po xiao had known setting out from the city would mean stumbling into unexpected situations; there have already been three run-ins with well-meaning farmhands traveling alongside him on the road and only an hour ago, someone had helped guide him toward the nearby town named βzizhou.β if he continues through the shudong area, he'll eventually reach kuizhou, then from there, he can head further inward toward denser, more populated areas where it should be easier to stow away somewhere.
something he hadn't anticipated whatsoever? being mistaken for a completely different person some bandits had targeted during their daily sleuthing for unfortunate individuals.
lucky for them, the person they actually attack is rather defenseless; two approach from the front, one at his back, all of which po xiao hears and registers but none of them are keen on small-talk.] I'm not who you're looking for, [he insists, over and over again, although to no avail. they continue mumbling amongst themselves about his lack of white robes then someone nearest his right side shuffles toward him, he turns their direction, lifts the bamboo rod in his left hand and cracks them right in their face. they stumble back with a pained cry, his makeshift weapon comes up again and even though he swings another person's direction, they're faster than he is, able to dodge, then before he's allowed another chance, the man behind him swoops in.
hands clamp tight around the boy's arms, forcing them against his sides initially, but when he proves too squirmy, they're pretzeled, yanked up so they can be pinned against his back instead. his turn to yelp and, despite already having his upper-half restrained, attempt kicking outward whenever the second assailant from earlier tries coming at him again. yet another feeble attempt as the captor simply cinches po xiao's ankle in a vice-like grip, jams his leg so his knee is bent against his chest, trapping him in an awkward, entirely vulnerable position.]
Help! [is what he shouts first.] Somebody, help mβmmph! [but that ends quickly when whichever attacker holding his arms resituates and frees one hand to clap it over his mouth.
as they come closer, out of sheer desperation, po xiao uses what little leverage he can get, lifts himself off the leg he's standing on and delivers a well-placed kick against the man's ribcage in front of him, knocking them all off-balance so they tumble to the ground. he's aware his right arm twisted an uncomfortable way, but all he can think is to desperately start crawling away while everyone else gathers their bearings.]
( it wasn't entirely incorrect of the bandits to mark xiao xingchen as their next target, in much the same way that a wolf pack shrewdly identifies the weakest grazing beast in a herd. the one which has fallen ill or injured, almost certainly easy to isolate.
the clumsy layer of bandaging woven around his bloodied neck by equally bloodied hands does little to conceal his injuries, red soaking quite easily through the thin strips of cotton as if they weren't there at all, dripping out down the side of his neck to join the deep red staining the neckline of his robes not unlike the red which drips down below his similarly bloodied blindfold.
one might think that would make him more difficult to isolate, but one couldn't be more incorrect. make no mistake, this blind man in white (so clearly a daozhang, or something like it) earns no shortage of concerned exclamations, attempts to entreat him to stop and be seen to, but so far they've been met quite unanimously with a clumsy flinch away from worried touch, a shaky 'i'm fine, please don't worry,' that he doesn't even quite process saying.
and so it was simple enough to assess that he would be leaving town rather quickly, and as far as the bandits were concerned, sending word ahead to prepare ambush for a blind man would have seemed more than sufficient. and they nearly had it correct, too - they were off by a matter of minutes and happenstance, the wrong blind man happening through just before the correct one.
he would've walked into the trap quite easily, too. he wouldn't have noticed the bandits were there until he was already surrounded. the cries for help, however, drag him sharply back into this moment. into this place, and the distinct sounds of a struggle just ahead. and despite everything, all that he learned that he's done, he finds himself moving toward the struggle with a brisk sort of purpose to each step.
from his place on the ground, po xiao might very well hear those brisk footsteps approaching now. they're stepping just past him, in fact, so close that he might feel the displacement of air (or he might even smell the blood) as xingchen places himself between po xiao and the bandits - and then comes the unmistakable sound of a sword drawn from a sheath as xingchen draws frostwork from where it sits strapped across his back, pointing the tip at what sounds like the nearest of this man's assailants. ) Whatever misunderstanding has occurred here, I suggest that we all move past it, ( he says, his tone a bit flat and numbed but no less firm because of it. ) I lack the patience right now to ask kindly a second time.
( one of the men says something - some sort of remark about 'another blind man', derisive and incredulous, and a 'this one's half dead already' from off to his other side - but far more importantly, a number of them sound like they're drawing some manner of weapons now. xingchen's nearly-depleted qi is still more than enough to identify a hand axe, four knives, and a sword just shorter than his own, and he exhales a bracing sigh through his nose before stepping in to meet them.
the first knife is thrown, deflected by frostwork's blade and sent flying off into the brush, and in under a half-minute, the bandits lie dead and bleeding in the dirt. perhaps not all of them (one or two may have fled through the woods, the wise choice at this point), but that's fine, so long as they're gone and not coming back here.
he turns back to the stranger now, the one who cried for help. ) Are you alright? ( frostwork has lowered to his side now, and he takes a step toward the man. ) I can escort you to-... ( but the words slip from his grasp like sand, and the world feels very much like it's spinning around him in a way that not even his qi sense can compensate for.
xingchen sinks to his knees, steadying himself on his hands (one still gripping frostwork, but only weakly). ) Forgive me, I just need a moment. ( but these words are hazy and thin, like the air atop a mountain. the combat, even so little of it, was too much for him after... well, after everything else. the revelations, the wounds he inflicted and sustained. the time since waking up alive from said wounds, which must have been nearly a day ago by now but he hasn't kept track of time any better than he has kept track of his blood loss. and here and now, in the middle of this worn dirt road, is where his body finally seems to give out.
sorry, po xiao. your rescuer is now lying unconscious on the ground, because that's apparently just how your life works. )
[it's by sheer luck they picked someone who cannot defend themself all too well; po xiao tries, he really, truly does and yet isn't able to do much damage. (which is fine because they probably assumed he had no fight in him at all, so this was a surprise attack!) although, it's not quite one of those either to be honest, much to his distress.
nevertheless, with the barest escape at freedom, he takes it, scrabbling forward on his hands and knees. this is ordinarily where he'd feel out his bamboo rod to regain some semblance of balance but instead, he just keeps moving until he can clamber upright and make a mad dash forward with both arms out. if he runs into anybody, it'll be at full force, maybe knock someone off-kilter to give him another chance at escape, even though it does not seem fortune favors him enough for such things as one of the men is already closing in rather quickly.
he can hear him and while po xiao wishes he were faster, that's just simply not the case. a hand clamps down on his shoulder, wrenching him backward, which prompts him to use the momentum to at least drag his attacker down too. they hit the ground hard, rolling once, the bandit gets an elbow to the face and in return, po xiao's going to have a shiner. with all ideas wasted and what little energy he'd had left expended, he's hauled up, dragged a couple feet then deposited back into the dirt before the others.
there's a mixture of dirt and blood in his mouth, he can taste them both, wrinkles his nose with disdain though what's that matter when there are people currently discussing his murder? yes, βmurder,β he'd heard them right, and it's what coaxes him into sliding away again while he believes they're distracted once more.
but just as quickly as it'd started, everyone hesitates whenever another set of footsteps approach, move past where he's sat and toward the group of thieves who'd been chattering amongst themselves. at first, po xiao's almost certain that metallic tang of blood is from him; not once did it occur to him whoever has come to his aid might be injured too. right now isn't the time to ask, given this newcomer's βi lack the patience right now to ask kindly a second time.β despite his apprehension, he exhales a shaky sigh, hoping the audible snikt! of a blade isn't for him. βanother blind man,β someone says and for a moment, his head whips in xiao xingchen's direction just in time to confirm what he'd been smelling actually was this man's blood. how will he fight if injured? if he is blind?
stiffening uncomfortably at this realization, he curls his fists in the dirt, wondering what sort of cruel joke this is, but also considering what it means if it's real. more weapons are drawn, causing him to initially shrink down further like if he becomes small enough, he'll disappear.
and yet xingchen strides forward to meet them anyhow, handles everything like a pro even, leaves most (if not all of them!) dead. oh nope, not all, as there is certainly one man who's crying pitifully at their mistake while fleeing for his life. everything going into momentary silence is somehow both a relief and unnerving, but when asked if he's alright, he answers,] I... I think so? [attention tilting xingchen's way, po xiao blinks, considering, expression shifting to surprise at the trailed-off sentence. quiet as it is, the sound of him hitting the ground on his hands and knees has the younger male springing into action, scrambling around then forward as he gropes through the dirt for his bamboo rod.]
No, no, you needn't apologize, [he insists.] You're injured, you can take all the time you wish. [ah, there! his fingertips find the stick, fumble briefly, all digits circling and lifting itβ just as xiao xingchen hits the ground.] Haah...? A-Are you alright? [honestly, he doesn't need to wait for an answer to already know his rescuer's unconscious.
well, it can't get any worse, can it? (thank goodness, it doesn't start raining or anything silly like that.) po xiao shuffles closer, uses both hands and worms them beneath xingchen's shoulders, hooks them underneath his armpits then lifts. whomever they are, they don't feel too heavy, and getting himself standing with the other man on his back doesn't prove nearly as difficult as he would've assumed earlier. walking will be slightly awkward, he's well-aware it won't matter since the inn he'd been headed to before isn't miles away.
carrying him upstairs, however, does prove too much. thankfully, the kind old woman helps him set xiao xingchen up in another room where he sits, cleaning his neck wound with the utmost carefulness and patiently waiting for him to awaken.]
( and for the second time in as many days, xiao xingchen wakes from what should almost certainly have been his death. in truth, he wouldn't at all have minded if it were. though he has lost the sharp desperation required to pursue such a thing of his own volition, he's very much prepared to take the daozhang approach and accept what may come, if his injuries take him after all.
but they don't. instead, he slips in and out of semi-consciousness a couple of times over the next few hours.. and then, perhaps an hour after his latest stirring, he slips abruptly into proper consciousness. into a worn-down bed in a musty room - and someone touching his throat. xingchen reacts before he can even quite think, sitting bolt upright with a sharp-drawn breath, one hand flinching up to seize the wrist of the one touching his throat as the other hand feels hastily (and fruitlessly) for frostwork at his side. )
Who is it?( unlike his offer for aid however-many hours ago, this time his voice is sharp and low, perhaps even a little bit haunted. )
[po xiao's immediately alert for whatever brief moment, senses tingling, something niggling in the back of his mind that tells him this thing is happening! and he should pay attention. he hesitates the motion of his hand mid-reach, expression wrinkling then softening again whenever xingchen loses consciousness again.
continuing his work afterward seems reasonable; some mixture of herbs, a bandage later and one might think this man could even survive whatever horrific ordeal he's gone through. thank goodness, it's the same unexplainable prickling that warns him to draw back before xiao xingchen suddenly becomes upright, narrowly avoiding their heads knocking together. that hand cinching around his wrist makes po xiao tense, breath momentarily catching in his chest then exhaling in a soft, relieved sigh once he's realized what's happened. (he can make a safe assumption it's xingchen's opposite hand feeling around he might maybe hear, but is aware the sword he's searching for is well out of arms reach.)]
It's me, [comes the utterance, quiet and reassuring.] The one you helped on the road.
( even the sigh (soft, relieved, laced with neither mischief nor malice) is enough to still the hand formerly seeking his blade, though it hovers impotently rather than properly settling. and while he doesn't immediately recognize the voice, that very fact in itself is enough to loosen the icy panic constricting his lungs. 'the one you helped on the road,' the man says - and there's a moment in which xingchen doesn't quite respond. instead his brow flickers in faint bemusement, because in truth, the better part of the last day or so has been somewhat of a numb and half-dizzy blur.
but then a memory lifts from the mixed-up haze. there were bandits, weren't there? xingchen killed them. that's what this man means by 'helped'.
only now, with this man's identity (or at least relevance) placed and serving as one final bit of proof that this isn't some manner of trap set by xue yang, does he finally let out a sigh of his own - a slow, heavy sort of sigh which drains the remaining tension from his body. his grip on the other man's wrist goes lax, though it takes xingchen another couple of seconds to think to let go of it altogether. )
Forgive me, ( he says, this time far closer to the polite and cordial tones of their initial encounter, though with an undeniable fatigue just below the surface.
and though this is the part where one tends to explain ('forgive me, i mistook you for another' or something like it), no proper explanation is coming. there isn't really anything he might say which could explain so strong a reaction - so he doesn't. instead, both hands settle on the bed now to help xingchen shift into a more sustainable sitting position, and he says - ) It's good to know that you're alright. ( he recalls asking as much before he collapsed, but not any answer he may have received. ) You have my gratitude, for the aid you've offered. This is... an inn? ( the bed feels like that of a small-town inn, and the air smells very much like an inn's guest quarters. )
[ah... right, let's just take a moment and disregard the fact people died since both of them are desperately trying to lie low in this situation; whoever they are (and whichever of them survived), it doesn't matter anymore, as po xiao made certain to not give specific details when bringing xingchen to the room. madam innkeeper has been polite too, doesn't pry much and offers help if needed, most of which he acceptsβ like he'd done with helping the man. she didn't ask then either and po xiao's ever-so-grateful she hasn't inquired further during xiao xingchen's few hours long restless nap.
it does occur to him, he should've said his name alongside that remark earlier, even if the longer he considers, the less it seems to matter this moment in time. xiao xingchen is undoubtedly concerned with other things right now, one he'd imagine being his current whereabouts.
he relaxes his own vice-like grip on the rag in hand, tilts toward xingchen then lets his mouth curve in the faintest smile after those fingers loosen.] It's quite alright, [po xiao reassures.
being worried about who has helped you is a legitimate reason, especially whenever it seems this man's on the run. (because why else would he have reeked of blood, blind or not? someone for sure must've attacked him!) or that's what he's assuming, anyhow, despite it not mattering why. ordinarily, he would ask as well, but he doesn't prod further for an answer, just accepts the βforgive me,β gives a dismissive-sounding sort of hum and segues into,] All thanks to you. [because if xingchen hadn't come along, they very well might have killed po xiao after robbing him. and that's part of why he's so pleased he'd been able to return the favor by bringing his rescuer to the inn.]
You have mine as well, of course. I'm glad to have been able to help in return. [he shifts too, lowers the rag so he can set it aside on the water basin's edge and reaches with that same hand to offer even more aid by helping xingchen into a better upright position. carefully though, steadily, since he'd hate to make things worse than they already are.] It is. An inn just outside a town called βZizhou,β I think it was?
( though this man isn't terribly animated in character, xingchen is forming a decently strong impression of him regardless - thoughtful, warm, honorable (at least regarding the fair exchange of favors). perhaps even trustworthy. that said, his choice to allow most of his guard to drop has little to do with any of that, or any similar implication that xingchen retains even an ounce of trust in his judge of character. he doesn't. he's simply indifferent to whatever consequences come of such judgment proving incorrect.
and so he allows the man to assist him in sitting up, more attention paid to the information provided. zizhou... xingchen vaguely recalls that being the next destination the road which he had taken, though he'd thought it a good number of hours out still. had he misjudged the distance? or had this relative stranger carried him all that way? ) If you followed that same road, then Zizhou would be correct. ( but then, ) Have you already paid for the night? I can do so, if you haven't. Or- however long our stay has been. ( because it occurs to him now that he hasn't the slightest clue how long he was unconscious. what feels to him like less than a day may very well have been two or three nights, all passing in a haze. )
[perhaps po xiao should be warier; not everyone who helps a person has good intentions following that act, after all, but in xingchen's defense: he also believes not many people would willingly toss themselves into the fray as he'd done earlier with those bandits. not only this but, while he'd be embarrassed to admit, he does like the idea of having someone else around who understands what's going on. for now, all he can do is offer help and hope it's enough repayment for saving his life.
with the utmost carefulness, both his hands draw back again and lace together across his lap, head politely inclined while he waits. his thumb traces a line on his robe, but he's drawn back in by another question before he gets too distracted.] It was the same road, [he assures.] And yes, there is no need to worry about any of that. [the aforementioned madam has no qualms letting him stay as long as necessary, so long as whatever chores he's assigned get taken care of. kind though she is, he's well-aware he ought to leave sooner rather than later, lest any other assassins come looking when he least expects.] However, if you're curious to know, it's only been a few hours since you rescued me. [a brief pause then,] Ah... my name is Po Xiao, by the by. [just to get some basic formalities out of the way.]
( a few hours? that's quite a bit shorter than it felt, though he's hardly prepared to put any stock in his unconscious perception of time. and truly, the last couple of days in their entirety have felt like weeks all on their own (while also feeling very much like they've passed in a blur, much too quickly for xingchen to keep proper track).
'a few hours' means that it's nighttime now, or swiftly approaching it. this is the second night since he stumbled out of the coffin house, disappeared from the quite deliberate ring of talismans that xue yang had left him in. he likely should have stopped to assess them - to see precisely what it was that the murderer had intended to do with him. but he was in no state to consider it then, and he certainly doesn't intend to return and find out.
which just as certainly means that somewhere out there, xue yang is looking for him.
a moment belatedly, xingchen processes that his ally(?) has introduced himself - po xiao. ) Xiao Xingchen, ( he offers in return, and only afterward does it occur to him how foolish that probably was. xue yang is looking for 'xiao xingchen'. his next words are hushed (not that any of his words have been loud enough to eavesdrop, really), ) Do you know-... ( his lips press together a moment, and he tries again. ) I assume that others saw us arrive? ( witnesses, able to disclose his location to anyone with enough coin or threat. )
[whatever xiao xingchen has gone through before rescuing this boy, it's clear he's tired, and that's not just because he collapsed in the middle of the road either. there's also an unsettled air in the room despite the safety; it's palpable, electrified in an unexplainable sense, except for the fact po xiao can feel it, which discombobulates him somewhat. regardless, he's steady and undeterred, patient while his newfound company regathers himself.
the whole time, his head twists one way then the other, turning from the man to where he knows he'd set xingchen's sword. part of him insists he go collect it, return the weapon to its owner because one: it's his, and two: it'd do better there anyway in case something happens. (but wait, what's going to happen? nothing, of course, they're completely safe here for now.)
he does redirect again, right as xiao xingchen introduces himself, earning a warm, affirming hum.] Nice to meet you, [a moment's hesitation then,] Circumstances aside. Uhmβ [though he stops once more, contemplating, trying his hardest to remember if there had been anyone else they passed while on their way to the inn. nobody had tried to stop them and he hadn't heard any individuals following, so it feels safe enough to assume they are in the clear, but.] I cannot say if anyone saw us on the way. Nobody I could hear, that is, but I do know for sure the innkeeper's the only person who knows we're in this room right now.
[and so far, she's proven herself as po xiao's one ally during all his troubles. he sees no reason not to trust her.]
( the pleasantries, though well beyond xingchen's own capacity for normalcy at the moment, have a tired little smile curling the edges of his next exhale. the kindness barely warms the surface of him, a fleeting relief so deeply at odds with the death-chill still clinging to his bones, with the disquiet of his racing heart - but a fleeting brush of warmth is still better than none at all, better and perhaps even more grounding.
and then po xiao continues - he's circled back to the question that xingchen asked, albeit with a confusing lack of observational insight... at least until 'nobody i could hear,' at which point a number of things click into place. the care and precision in so many of his quiet movements, not unlike xingchen's own. the men on the road had said 'another blind man'.
this man, who carried him along miles of wooded road and then tended his wounds, can neither fight nor see. it's a fact which xingchen's next inhale carries all the way down to the pit of his gut, where it thickens, congeals in a way which turns his stomach.
(he wonders if a day will come in which he no longer needs to view others in terms of how easily xue yang might kill them.)
all of this has decided quite definitively that he needs to put distance between himself and this man as soon as he's physically able. he lets out his breath (he hadn't quite realized he was holding it), and with it comes: ) My sword? ( 'where is it?' sounds like the question at hand, though he's already casting his qi out to answer that very question for himself... all while he shifts again, scooting over to the edge of the bed and placing his feet on the floor. and oh, there's frostwork's energy just over there on that table - so he lifts a shaky hand toward it. ) Forgive me, I would just prefer to have it with me, ( he says, his words half-distracted as frostwork audibly scoots across the surface of the table in their direction,
and then clatters to the floor.
the next breath that xingchen lets out sounds just short of punched, in a way that he hides quite poorly despite his best efforts. it might seem at first like suppressed frustration, but in actuality, he's rapidly drained what little of his qi his body has not yet dedicated to healing his wounds - and he's dizzy. his free hand grips the edge of the bed for balance now, and the hand which presumed to summon frostwork now drops by necessity to do the same.
a slow and measured breath... and then come words. ) Po-xiong, I'm quite certain I owe my life to your kindness today, ( xingchen says, quiet but sure, ) And that's a debt which I'll be repaying summarily. You can't stay here. I'll pay you for the room, that's no trouble - but please, put as much distance as you're able between yourself and this place. ( and xingchen, is the true concern. he swallows hard, 'gaze' dropping to land on a nondescript bit of bedding beside where he sits. a bit apologetically, ) I would do so myself, were I able. ( but he can't even call back his blade, let alone stand up and leave from this inn. )
[although many people wouldn't deem it necessary for him to be so polite, po xiao knows manners are important, isn't one to abandon them just because he's in unfamiliar company; this man still rescued him, after all, the least he can do is show proper appreciation and help him with his wounds to the best of his ability.
allowing him somewhere safe to stay for however long he needs also feels right despite it simply coming alongside what's already been offered. (and po xiao would sleep on the floor if needed, he wouldn't mind whatsoever!) while no answer comes immediately, his first thought isn't worrisome, but the longer the silence stretches, the more he begins considering what sort of situation xiao xingchen's been drawn into that has him so concerned with wherever his sword might be. he knows weapons are an extension of a warrior, something he assumes this man is, and much like with feng ren, it makes sense they'd want those within arms reach in case something awful happens.
at least that way, should any of those foolish men attempt hunting them down again, they'll be made quick work of? and don't think for one minute po xiao's not wondering what exactly it is xingchen wants to get away from, either.
which is why he doesn't hesitate to avert his attention to where the sword lays, opening his mouth in response, only to come up short once he realizes the other male's moving.] No forgiving needed, really, I understand, but you shouldn'tβ [even if it's far too late to stop him. so, po xiao clamps his mouth shut and lets him do as he pleases, shifting back slightly, yet keeping himself close enough in case there's a chance xingchen needs help. the distinct sound of that same sword shifting of its own accord draws his attention again, has his eyebrows lifting with surprise as it rattles, slides over the table, then promptly hits the floor still some few feet away. that's more than a little intriguing and, fascination aside, he's pleased he'd guessed somewhat correct about him.
without missing a beat, his focus is back on xiao xingchen, on moving both his hands to his shoulders and gently urging him back toward the bed. βpo-xiong,β already so casual, it makes him smile though it won't last long following that remark. can't stay here? what does that mean?] Xiao-gongzi, you needn't fret about such things right now when you should be resting and regathering your strength. [clearly, he shouldn't have to point out how his failed attempt to retrieve his sword proves this.
he moves then, gathers up xingchen's sword and brings it over, crouching back down in front of him while offering it.] Afterward, we can leave this place, go our separate ways if necessary even. But until then, I assure you that we are safe here.
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houseofsushi2021-04-19 12:15 am
π i can hear the voices haunting; there is nothing left to fear and i am still calling to you
something he hadn't anticipated whatsoever? being mistaken for a completely different person some bandits had targeted during their daily sleuthing for unfortunate individuals.
lucky for them, the person they actually attack is rather defenseless; two approach from the front, one at his back, all of which po xiao hears and registers but none of them are keen on small-talk.] I'm not who you're looking for, [he insists, over and over again, although to no avail. they continue mumbling amongst themselves about his lack of white robes then someone nearest his right side shuffles toward him, he turns their direction, lifts the bamboo rod in his left hand and cracks them right in their face. they stumble back with a pained cry, his makeshift weapon comes up again and even though he swings another person's direction, they're faster than he is, able to dodge, then before he's allowed another chance, the man behind him swoops in.
hands clamp tight around the boy's arms, forcing them against his sides initially, but when he proves too squirmy, they're pretzeled, yanked up so they can be pinned against his back instead. his turn to yelp and, despite already having his upper-half restrained, attempt kicking outward whenever the second assailant from earlier tries coming at him again. yet another feeble attempt as the captor simply cinches po xiao's ankle in a vice-like grip, jams his leg so his knee is bent against his chest, trapping him in an awkward, entirely vulnerable position.]
Help! [is what he shouts first.] Somebody, help mβmmph! [but that ends quickly when whichever attacker holding his arms resituates and frees one hand to clap it over his mouth.
as they come closer, out of sheer desperation, po xiao uses what little leverage he can get, lifts himself off the leg he's standing on and delivers a well-placed kick against the man's ribcage in front of him, knocking them all off-balance so they tumble to the ground. he's aware his right arm twisted an uncomfortable way, but all he can think is to desperately start crawling away while everyone else gathers their bearings.]
no subject
the clumsy layer of bandaging woven around his bloodied neck by equally bloodied hands does little to conceal his injuries, red soaking quite easily through the thin strips of cotton as if they weren't there at all, dripping out down the side of his neck to join the deep red staining the neckline of his robes not unlike the red which drips down below his similarly bloodied blindfold.
one might think that would make him more difficult to isolate, but one couldn't be more incorrect. make no mistake, this blind man in white (so clearly a daozhang, or something like it) earns no shortage of concerned exclamations, attempts to entreat him to stop and be seen to, but so far they've been met quite unanimously with a clumsy flinch away from worried touch, a shaky 'i'm fine, please don't worry,' that he doesn't even quite process saying.
and so it was simple enough to assess that he would be leaving town rather quickly, and as far as the bandits were concerned, sending word ahead to prepare ambush for a blind man would have seemed more than sufficient. and they nearly had it correct, too - they were off by a matter of minutes and happenstance, the wrong blind man happening through just before the correct one.
he would've walked into the trap quite easily, too. he wouldn't have noticed the bandits were there until he was already surrounded. the cries for help, however, drag him sharply back into this moment. into this place, and the distinct sounds of a struggle just ahead. and despite everything, all that he learned that he's done, he finds himself moving toward the struggle with a brisk sort of purpose to each step.
from his place on the ground, po xiao might very well hear those brisk footsteps approaching now. they're stepping just past him, in fact, so close that he might feel the displacement of air (or he might even smell the blood) as xingchen places himself between po xiao and the bandits - and then comes the unmistakable sound of a sword drawn from a sheath as xingchen draws frostwork from where it sits strapped across his back, pointing the tip at what sounds like the nearest of this man's assailants. ) Whatever misunderstanding has occurred here, I suggest that we all move past it, ( he says, his tone a bit flat and numbed but no less firm because of it. ) I lack the patience right now to ask kindly a second time.
( one of the men says something - some sort of remark about 'another blind man', derisive and incredulous, and a 'this one's half dead already' from off to his other side - but far more importantly, a number of them sound like they're drawing some manner of weapons now. xingchen's nearly-depleted qi is still more than enough to identify a hand axe, four knives, and a sword just shorter than his own, and he exhales a bracing sigh through his nose before stepping in to meet them.
the first knife is thrown, deflected by frostwork's blade and sent flying off into the brush, and in under a half-minute, the bandits lie dead and bleeding in the dirt. perhaps not all of them (one or two may have fled through the woods, the wise choice at this point), but that's fine, so long as they're gone and not coming back here.
he turns back to the stranger now, the one who cried for help. ) Are you alright? ( frostwork has lowered to his side now, and he takes a step toward the man. ) I can escort you to-... ( but the words slip from his grasp like sand, and the world feels very much like it's spinning around him in a way that not even his qi sense can compensate for.
xingchen sinks to his knees, steadying himself on his hands (one still gripping frostwork, but only weakly). ) Forgive me, I just need a moment. ( but these words are hazy and thin, like the air atop a mountain. the combat, even so little of it, was too much for him after... well, after everything else. the revelations, the wounds he inflicted and sustained. the time since waking up alive from said wounds, which must have been nearly a day ago by now but he hasn't kept track of time any better than he has kept track of his blood loss. and here and now, in the middle of this worn dirt road, is where his body finally seems to give out.
sorry, po xiao. your rescuer is now lying unconscious on the ground, because that's apparently just how your life works. )
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nevertheless, with the barest escape at freedom, he takes it, scrabbling forward on his hands and knees. this is ordinarily where he'd feel out his bamboo rod to regain some semblance of balance but instead, he just keeps moving until he can clamber upright and make a mad dash forward with both arms out. if he runs into anybody, it'll be at full force, maybe knock someone off-kilter to give him another chance at escape, even though it does not seem fortune favors him enough for such things as one of the men is already closing in rather quickly.
he can hear him and while po xiao wishes he were faster, that's just simply not the case. a hand clamps down on his shoulder, wrenching him backward, which prompts him to use the momentum to at least drag his attacker down too. they hit the ground hard, rolling once, the bandit gets an elbow to the face and in return, po xiao's going to have a shiner. with all ideas wasted and what little energy he'd had left expended, he's hauled up, dragged a couple feet then deposited back into the dirt before the others.
there's a mixture of dirt and blood in his mouth, he can taste them both, wrinkles his nose with disdain though what's that matter when there are people currently discussing his murder? yes, βmurder,β he'd heard them right, and it's what coaxes him into sliding away again while he believes they're distracted once more.
but just as quickly as it'd started, everyone hesitates whenever another set of footsteps approach, move past where he's sat and toward the group of thieves who'd been chattering amongst themselves. at first, po xiao's almost certain that metallic tang of blood is from him; not once did it occur to him whoever has come to his aid might be injured too. right now isn't the time to ask, given this newcomer's βi lack the patience right now to ask kindly a second time.β despite his apprehension, he exhales a shaky sigh, hoping the audible snikt! of a blade isn't for him. βanother blind man,β someone says and for a moment, his head whips in xiao xingchen's direction just in time to confirm what he'd been smelling actually was this man's blood. how will he fight if injured? if he is blind?
stiffening uncomfortably at this realization, he curls his fists in the dirt, wondering what sort of cruel joke this is, but also considering what it means if it's real. more weapons are drawn, causing him to initially shrink down further like if he becomes small enough, he'll disappear.
and yet xingchen strides forward to meet them anyhow, handles everything like a pro even, leaves most (if not all of them!) dead. oh nope, not all, as there is certainly one man who's crying pitifully at their mistake while fleeing for his life. everything going into momentary silence is somehow both a relief and unnerving, but when asked if he's alright, he answers,] I... I think so? [attention tilting xingchen's way, po xiao blinks, considering, expression shifting to surprise at the trailed-off sentence. quiet as it is, the sound of him hitting the ground on his hands and knees has the younger male springing into action, scrambling around then forward as he gropes through the dirt for his bamboo rod.]
No, no, you needn't apologize, [he insists.] You're injured, you can take all the time you wish. [ah, there! his fingertips find the stick, fumble briefly, all digits circling and lifting itβ just as xiao xingchen hits the ground.] Haah...? A-Are you alright? [honestly, he doesn't need to wait for an answer to already know his rescuer's unconscious.
well, it can't get any worse, can it? (thank goodness, it doesn't start raining or anything silly like that.) po xiao shuffles closer, uses both hands and worms them beneath xingchen's shoulders, hooks them underneath his armpits then lifts. whomever they are, they don't feel too heavy, and getting himself standing with the other man on his back doesn't prove nearly as difficult as he would've assumed earlier. walking will be slightly awkward, he's well-aware it won't matter since the inn he'd been headed to before isn't miles away.
carrying him upstairs, however, does prove too much. thankfully, the kind old woman helps him set xiao xingchen up in another room where he sits, cleaning his neck wound with the utmost carefulness and patiently waiting for him to awaken.]
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but they don't. instead, he slips in and out of semi-consciousness a couple of times over the next few hours.. and then, perhaps an hour after his latest stirring, he slips abruptly into proper consciousness. into a worn-down bed in a musty room - and someone touching his throat. xingchen reacts before he can even quite think, sitting bolt upright with a sharp-drawn breath, one hand flinching up to seize the wrist of the one touching his throat as the other hand feels hastily (and fruitlessly) for frostwork at his side. )
Who is it? ( unlike his offer for aid however-many hours ago, this time his voice is sharp and low, perhaps even a little bit haunted. )
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continuing his work afterward seems reasonable; some mixture of herbs, a bandage later and one might think this man could even survive whatever horrific ordeal he's gone through. thank goodness, it's the same unexplainable prickling that warns him to draw back before xiao xingchen suddenly becomes upright, narrowly avoiding their heads knocking together. that hand cinching around his wrist makes po xiao tense, breath momentarily catching in his chest then exhaling in a soft, relieved sigh once he's realized what's happened. (he can make a safe assumption it's xingchen's opposite hand feeling around he might maybe hear, but is aware the sword he's searching for is well out of arms reach.)]
It's me, [comes the utterance, quiet and reassuring.] The one you helped on the road.
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but then a memory lifts from the mixed-up haze. there were bandits, weren't there? xingchen killed them. that's what this man means by 'helped'.
only now, with this man's identity (or at least relevance) placed and serving as one final bit of proof that this isn't some manner of trap set by xue yang, does he finally let out a sigh of his own - a slow, heavy sort of sigh which drains the remaining tension from his body. his grip on the other man's wrist goes lax, though it takes xingchen another couple of seconds to think to let go of it altogether. )
Forgive me, ( he says, this time far closer to the polite and cordial tones of their initial encounter, though with an undeniable fatigue just below the surface.
and though this is the part where one tends to explain ('forgive me, i mistook you for another' or something like it), no proper explanation is coming. there isn't really anything he might say which could explain so strong a reaction - so he doesn't. instead, both hands settle on the bed now to help xingchen shift into a more sustainable sitting position, and he says - ) It's good to know that you're alright. ( he recalls asking as much before he collapsed, but not any answer he may have received. ) You have my gratitude, for the aid you've offered. This is... an inn? ( the bed feels like that of a small-town inn, and the air smells very much like an inn's guest quarters. )
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it does occur to him, he should've said his name alongside that remark earlier, even if the longer he considers, the less it seems to matter this moment in time. xiao xingchen is undoubtedly concerned with other things right now, one he'd imagine being his current whereabouts.
he relaxes his own vice-like grip on the rag in hand, tilts toward xingchen then lets his mouth curve in the faintest smile after those fingers loosen.] It's quite alright, [po xiao reassures.
being worried about who has helped you is a legitimate reason, especially whenever it seems this man's on the run. (because why else would he have reeked of blood, blind or not? someone for sure must've attacked him!) or that's what he's assuming, anyhow, despite it not mattering why. ordinarily, he would ask as well, but he doesn't prod further for an answer, just accepts the βforgive me,β gives a dismissive-sounding sort of hum and segues into,] All thanks to you. [because if xingchen hadn't come along, they very well might have killed po xiao after robbing him. and that's part of why he's so pleased he'd been able to return the favor by bringing his rescuer to the inn.]
You have mine as well, of course. I'm glad to have been able to help in return. [he shifts too, lowers the rag so he can set it aside on the water basin's edge and reaches with that same hand to offer even more aid by helping xingchen into a better upright position. carefully though, steadily, since he'd hate to make things worse than they already are.] It is. An inn just outside a town called βZizhou,β I think it was?
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and so he allows the man to assist him in sitting up, more attention paid to the information provided. zizhou... xingchen vaguely recalls that being the next destination the road which he had taken, though he'd thought it a good number of hours out still. had he misjudged the distance? or had this relative stranger carried him all that way? ) If you followed that same road, then Zizhou would be correct. ( but then, ) Have you already paid for the night? I can do so, if you haven't. Or- however long our stay has been. ( because it occurs to him now that he hasn't the slightest clue how long he was unconscious. what feels to him like less than a day may very well have been two or three nights, all passing in a haze. )
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with the utmost carefulness, both his hands draw back again and lace together across his lap, head politely inclined while he waits. his thumb traces a line on his robe, but he's drawn back in by another question before he gets too distracted.] It was the same road, [he assures.] And yes, there is no need to worry about any of that. [the aforementioned madam has no qualms letting him stay as long as necessary, so long as whatever chores he's assigned get taken care of. kind though she is, he's well-aware he ought to leave sooner rather than later, lest any other assassins come looking when he least expects.] However, if you're curious to know, it's only been a few hours since you rescued me. [a brief pause then,] Ah... my name is Po Xiao, by the by. [just to get some basic formalities out of the way.]
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'a few hours' means that it's nighttime now, or swiftly approaching it. this is the second night since he stumbled out of the coffin house, disappeared from the quite deliberate ring of talismans that xue yang had left him in. he likely should have stopped to assess them - to see precisely what it was that the murderer had intended to do with him. but he was in no state to consider it then, and he certainly doesn't intend to return and find out.
which just as certainly means that somewhere out there, xue yang is looking for him.
a moment belatedly, xingchen processes that his ally(?) has introduced himself - po xiao. ) Xiao Xingchen, ( he offers in return, and only afterward does it occur to him how foolish that probably was. xue yang is looking for 'xiao xingchen'. his next words are hushed (not that any of his words have been loud enough to eavesdrop, really), ) Do you know-... ( his lips press together a moment, and he tries again. ) I assume that others saw us arrive? ( witnesses, able to disclose his location to anyone with enough coin or threat. )
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the whole time, his head twists one way then the other, turning from the man to where he knows he'd set xingchen's sword. part of him insists he go collect it, return the weapon to its owner because one: it's his, and two: it'd do better there anyway in case something happens. (but wait, what's going to happen? nothing, of course, they're completely safe here for now.)
he does redirect again, right as xiao xingchen introduces himself, earning a warm, affirming hum.] Nice to meet you, [a moment's hesitation then,] Circumstances aside. Uhmβ [though he stops once more, contemplating, trying his hardest to remember if there had been anyone else they passed while on their way to the inn. nobody had tried to stop them and he hadn't heard any individuals following, so it feels safe enough to assume they are in the clear, but.] I cannot say if anyone saw us on the way. Nobody I could hear, that is, but I do know for sure the innkeeper's the only person who knows we're in this room right now.
[and so far, she's proven herself as po xiao's one ally during all his troubles. he sees no reason not to trust her.]
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and then po xiao continues - he's circled back to the question that xingchen asked, albeit with a confusing lack of observational insight... at least until 'nobody i could hear,' at which point a number of things click into place. the care and precision in so many of his quiet movements, not unlike xingchen's own. the men on the road had said 'another blind man'.
this man, who carried him along miles of wooded road and then tended his wounds, can neither fight nor see. it's a fact which xingchen's next inhale carries all the way down to the pit of his gut, where it thickens, congeals in a way which turns his stomach.
(he wonders if a day will come in which he no longer needs to view others in terms of how easily xue yang might kill them.)
all of this has decided quite definitively that he needs to put distance between himself and this man as soon as he's physically able. he lets out his breath (he hadn't quite realized he was holding it), and with it comes: ) My sword? ( 'where is it?' sounds like the question at hand, though he's already casting his qi out to answer that very question for himself... all while he shifts again, scooting over to the edge of the bed and placing his feet on the floor. and oh, there's frostwork's energy just over there on that table - so he lifts a shaky hand toward it. ) Forgive me, I would just prefer to have it with me, ( he says, his words half-distracted as frostwork audibly scoots across the surface of the table in their direction,
and then clatters to the floor.
the next breath that xingchen lets out sounds just short of punched, in a way that he hides quite poorly despite his best efforts. it might seem at first like suppressed frustration, but in actuality, he's rapidly drained what little of his qi his body has not yet dedicated to healing his wounds - and he's dizzy. his free hand grips the edge of the bed for balance now, and the hand which presumed to summon frostwork now drops by necessity to do the same.
a slow and measured breath... and then come words. ) Po-xiong, I'm quite certain I owe my life to your kindness today, ( xingchen says, quiet but sure, ) And that's a debt which I'll be repaying summarily. You can't stay here. I'll pay you for the room, that's no trouble - but please, put as much distance as you're able between yourself and this place. ( and xingchen, is the true concern. he swallows hard, 'gaze' dropping to land on a nondescript bit of bedding beside where he sits. a bit apologetically, ) I would do so myself, were I able. ( but he can't even call back his blade, let alone stand up and leave from this inn. )
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allowing him somewhere safe to stay for however long he needs also feels right despite it simply coming alongside what's already been offered. (and po xiao would sleep on the floor if needed, he wouldn't mind whatsoever!) while no answer comes immediately, his first thought isn't worrisome, but the longer the silence stretches, the more he begins considering what sort of situation xiao xingchen's been drawn into that has him so concerned with wherever his sword might be. he knows weapons are an extension of a warrior, something he assumes this man is, and much like with feng ren, it makes sense they'd want those within arms reach in case something awful happens.
at least that way, should any of those foolish men attempt hunting them down again, they'll be made quick work of? and don't think for one minute po xiao's not wondering what exactly it is xingchen wants to get away from, either.
which is why he doesn't hesitate to avert his attention to where the sword lays, opening his mouth in response, only to come up short once he realizes the other male's moving.] No forgiving needed, really, I understand, but you shouldn'tβ [even if it's far too late to stop him. so, po xiao clamps his mouth shut and lets him do as he pleases, shifting back slightly, yet keeping himself close enough in case there's a chance xingchen needs help. the distinct sound of that same sword shifting of its own accord draws his attention again, has his eyebrows lifting with surprise as it rattles, slides over the table, then promptly hits the floor still some few feet away. that's more than a little intriguing and, fascination aside, he's pleased he'd guessed somewhat correct about him.
without missing a beat, his focus is back on xiao xingchen, on moving both his hands to his shoulders and gently urging him back toward the bed. βpo-xiong,β already so casual, it makes him smile though it won't last long following that remark. can't stay here? what does that mean?] Xiao-gongzi, you needn't fret about such things right now when you should be resting and regathering your strength. [clearly, he shouldn't have to point out how his failed attempt to retrieve his sword proves this.
he moves then, gathers up xingchen's sword and brings it over, crouching back down in front of him while offering it.] Afterward, we can leave this place, go our separate ways if necessary even. But until then, I assure you that we are safe here.
[βfor now,β is something he leaves unsaid.]