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On the seventh day of the seventh month the city was in chaos. Screams filled the air that reeked of blood. Soldiers hacked at soldiers without regard to which side they stood on. No one could tell who was who anymore. Li Jianhong fought through the streets like a god of death. But he was mortal. Blood drenched his clothes. Arrows punctured his body. Poison coursed through his veins, immobilizing his right side.
But none of that mattered. His son was here. In the middle of a battle that should have never happened. He needed to get him out of here.
Li Jianhong dragged himself through an alleyway. A shortcut to Qionghua House. He lifted his head to see his, Duan Ling, and Lang Junxia's home burning in the distance. He hadn't noticed the acrid stench of smoke until it became overwhelming. He coughed, leaning heavily against the wall. Blood pooled in palm.
There was less soldiers here as Qionghua House loomed in front of him. He staggered out of the alley, lurching towards them with his sword raised. His sword sliced through his attackers like paper.
Up until this point, only pure determination to save his son gave him the strength to keep moving. But now, with his hope right in front of him, all the strength seeped out of him like water from a sponge. His knees gave out, and he collapsed on the cold, wet ground.
Li Jianhong's brain yelled at him to get back up, but he couldn't move, stuck in a stalemate between his will and the limits of his body. Darkness encroached on his vision, bringing with it a wave of dizziness. He started to black out until he heard a voice.
"We can't leave, my dad will come! I know he's here!"
His son. His voice rejuvenated him. Li Jianhong dragged his broken body up. Every muscle in him screamed in protest as his mind screamed back. He had to make it to Qionghua House. If he did just that, then he would be safe.
A crossbow bolt clicked into place.
Li Jianhong threw his sword with all of his strength. The blade sliced through the air, flipping end over end, before it buried itself in the assassin's chest.
But it was too late.
The bolt the assassin fired flew with the force of a thousand tons and lodged itself into Li Jianhong's still beating heart. His lips parted in a silent cry, then he fell backward with a thump.
His son…
Shangjing was burning. Duan Ling wrenched the arrow out of his back with a cry, before stabbing it into one of the attackers.
Li Jianhong lay in a pool of dirt and blood. He could only take in short gasps of air.
He needed to get his son out of here. He needed to— His fingers curled in the dirt.
The sky was very beautiful today.
Li Jianhong lay on a Milky Way of stardust. The stars above him reflected in his dark, hazy eyes, and the growing pool of blood beneath him.
He was never going to see he son again. He could barely feel his weary body anymore.
His mouth opened a crack.
"Run…"
His words were cut off with a with a bloody cough that wracked through his body.
Duan Ling's heart went very still. He walked over to a wall and slid down, leaning into its embrace. His heartbeat thumped against his chest. The wound on his back throbbed. His breathing slowed. Amidst the chaos of battle, the quiet sound of crying on the other side of the wall penetrated his ears. He closed his eyes.
The voice was a whisper of breath.
“…my son…”
Duan Ling's eyes flew open. He scrambled up, grappling at the wall to keep his footing.
"Dad? Dad!!" He dashed out the door before anyone could catch him. Xunchun cried out, grabbing at his shoulder, nearly colliding into him as he froze.
One hand gripped the door frame for support, the knuckles turning white with the strain of keeping him upright.
“Dad…?” Duan Ling said in a small voice.
His father lay on the ground, drenched in blood. Arrows punctured his body as if he was a pincushion. His right hand was heavily bandaged. There was so much blood Duan Ling couldn't tell from who or where it all came from. And in the center of his chest, just slightly to the left, stood a buried arrow.
With a cry, Duan Ling leapt forward into the fray, stumbling on his knees to his father's side. Li Jianhong's labored breathing increased as he realized his son there. He wanted to berate him for not running. But he was so happy to see him again, one last time. He fought to focus his half-lidded eyes on his face.
"Dad…?" Duan Ling's hands hovered over his heaving chest, overwhelmed with where to begin to help. This couldn't be happening. The arrow still punctured Li Jianhong's heart.
Li Jianhong’s lips trembled, wanting to say something, but no sound came out, only short, weak gasps.
Blood pooled around them. The girls of Qionghua House encircled Duan Ling and his father, facing out, firing their crossbows at anyone who tried to get near them. Duan Ling's clothes soon became soaked with his father's blood.
He took Li Jianhong's uninjured hand in his and pressed his limp fingers to his cheek.
"Dad?" his voice broke. Tears spilled down his cheeks, over his father's fingers, and onto his chest.
Li Jianhong's mouth quirked up in a small smile. His fingers twitched in his son's grasp, trying to wipe away his tears, as his own streaked down his dirty face. His dark eyes filled with regret for the words he couldn't say.
I'm sorry.
I love you.
“No…no, no, NO!!”
Duan Ling threw himself into his father's arms. Li Jianhong could no longer move, but his hand fell on top of Duan Ling's head after he let go, allowing him the chance to comfort his son.
Duan Ling sobbed into his chest. Blood and tears stained his cheeks.
Li Jianhong held his only reason for living in his limp hand. Duan Ling was the light of his life in this dark world. He didn't deserve for it to end like this.
His precious son…was now going to be all alone again. His breath hitched as he tried to force his tears and regrets back.
But his son was here now, in his arms. And even though it was painful, Li Jianhong was grateful for the company.
Li Jianhong's eyes drifted closed. His labored breaths stopped. But his arm still hugged Duan Ling to him, and his lips still held the smile he kept for the son he cherished.
Duan Ling felt Li Jianhong's heaving chest stop moving. He looked at him, clutching his dad's hand with tears in his eyes.
His dad's eyes were closed. His lips curled upward in the gentle smile he always saved for him.
He looked so peaceful. As if seeing his son was all he needed in this world.
“Dad?” Duan Ling touched his bloodstained cheek. “No…no, Dad, wake up.” He shook his shoulders. “Wake up…!”
Li Jianhong didn't move.
Xunchun knelt down and placed a hand on Duan Ling's shoulder. “Your Highness, he’s gone," she said gently. "We had to go."
Duan Ling was still shaking his head in disbelief, pleading over and over again. "…Dad…?" His voice broke.
"Your Highness, it's not safe here. Come with us." Xunchun tried to lead Duan Ling away.
“NO!!!” Duan Ling screamed. “DON’T TAKE HIM AWAY!!!” He clawed at Xunchun's arms, breaking away from her, and curled up next to his father.
Li Jianhong, his father, who came back for him when he thought he was abandoned.
Li Jianhong who took him on adventures and taught him horseback riding.
Li Jianhong who let him learn the art of gardening.
Li Jianhong who snuck into the Academy to teach him swordplay.
Li Jianhong who would never open his eyes, never smile at, never tell him how much he meant to him again.
"Forgive me. Say you don't hate me."
"No. You owe us. You have to stay alive and well until you're very, very old. Then ask us again."
"All right. I promise."
"Seal it."
His father hugged him, and sealed their promise with a clap. Then he left overnight. For the last time.
Duan Ling's whole body racked with sobs. He clutched at his father's body. "You promised…I waited for you…wake up…please…"
He buried his face in Li Jianhong's chest, muffling his cries.
Wu Du slowly approached the scene, carrying the antidote to the poison pumping through Li Jianhong's veins in his arms. He had seen death before, so, so many times, so much he was drenched in blood. But this scene before him was the first time he felt like drowning.
It wasn't his fault; there was nothing he could've done. Even if he came hours ago Li Jianhong was already poisoned and recklessly went into the fray on his own. If he had just stayed put like he told him, maybe he would still be alive. But that didn't ease the gnawing in his chest at seeing this child before him crying his heart out over his father's corpse.
Li Jianhong was dead. They could only try to live on.