Heaven's Inquiry
837 Words
Chapter 8: Heaven’s Inquiry***
The eighth red knot went into Xie Wuchen’s hair at dawn.
Li Chen watched from the bed, too sore to sit up. His first meridian burned like a fresh brand down his spine. Every breath fed it. Every heartbeat made it throb. But he was alive.
Xie Wuchen tied the knot in silence. His fingers were steady. Too steady. That was how Li Chen knew he was rattled.
“You talk in your sleep now,” Xie Wuchen said. Not looking at him.
Li Chen froze. “Do I?”
“Mm. You said ‘the chess board is cold.’” A pause. “And ‘don’t cry, cat.’”
Heat crawled up Li Chen’s neck. “I don’t know what that means.”
“I do.” Xie Wuchen finished the knot. Turned. His black eyes were flat. “It means he’s louder.”
Li Chen swallowed. _He_. Bai Ze. Always like a ghost standing between them. “It’s just dreams.”
“Dreams are memories that haven’t decided if they’re real yet.”
Before Li Chen could answer, the sky broke.
It wasn’t thunder. Thunder was natural. This was a crack, high and sharp, like Heaven splitting a knuckle. The temperature in the room dropped twenty degrees. The water in Li Chen’s cup froze solid.
Xie Wuchen was on his feet. Between Li Chen and the window in one breath. White hair flared like a weapon.
“Don’t move,” he ordered.
Three figures descended into the courtyard. No wings. No clouds. They just _were_, standing on dead grass that instantly turned to frost. Immortals. Gold armor, white banners. Heaven’s Enforcers.
The one in front had a scribe’s brush and a ledger. Bureaucracy with a sword.
“Xie Wuchen,” the lead Enforcer called. Voice like temple bells. “You are harboring a stolen soul. Surrender the anomaly Li Chen for reprocessing. This is your only warning.”
Li Chen pushed upright. The room spun. “Anomaly?”
“Quiet.” Xie Wuchen didn’t turn his head. “He’s not an anomaly. He’s mine.”
The Enforcer opened his ledger. “Bai Ze, Mercy Immortal. Death recorded three hundred and two years ago. Soul assigned to the River of Forgetting. Cycle interrupted. Current vessel: unauthorized. Verdict: erase and reset.”
Ice crawled up the walls. The eighth pear blossom outside shriveled.
“No,” Xie Wuchen said.
It wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. The word had three hundred years of silence behind it. The Enforcers took a step back.
“You would defy Heaven’s Decree?” the scribe asked. Quieter now.
“I defied it when I pulled him out,” Xie Wuchen said. “I’ll defy it until the stars fall.” He glanced over his shoulder at Li Chen. “Can you stand?”
Li Chen gritted his teeth. Forced his legs off the bed. Stood. His new meridian screamed. He stayed up. “Yes.”
“Good.” Xie Wuchen faced the Enforcers again. “He walks. He breathes. He chose to stay. That’s more law than your book.”
The lead Enforcer sighed. Drew his sword. Light poured off it. “Then we retrieve by force. Demon Lord, your grief does not supersede cosmic order.”
“It does for me.”
The sword came down. Not at Xie Wuchen. At Li Chen.
Xie Wuchen moved.
There was no blur. No travel. One moment he was by the bed. The next he was in the courtyard, the Enforcer’s sword caught in his bare hand. Blood welled, black and steaming, and froze before it hit the ground.
“You missed,” Xie Wuchen said.
He crushed the blade. Divine steel shattered like glass.
The Enforcers stared.
“Leave,” Xie Wuchen told them. “Before I remember I used to be at war with you.”
The scribe snapped his ledger shut. “This is not over. Heaven will send—”
“They can send the Jade Emperor himself,” Xie Wuchen cut in. “He’ll get the same answer.”
He looked past them, to the sky. To something Li Chen couldn’t see. “Tell him I’m not asking permission anymore.”
The Enforcers vanished. Not retreated. Just gone. Like Heaven had blinked them out.
Silence rushed back in.
Li Chen’s knees gave out. He hit the floor hard. Xie Wuchen was there before the pain registered, catching him, hand bleeding freely onto Li Chen’s robes.
“i***t,” Xie Wuchen hissed. But his arms were shaking. “Told you not to stand.”
“Wanted them to see,” Li Chen mumbled into his shoulder. “I’m not... a thing. To erase.”
Xie Wuchen’s jaw worked. He looked at his bleeding hand. At the black blood on Li Chen’s chest. Same blood now.
“You’re not,” he agreed. Voice rough. “You’re mine.”
Outside, the pear tree shuddered. A ninth bud formed on the highest branch. Tight. Unopened. Waiting.
- Writer
