...Xue Yang asked in reply, “Then why did you stop me? Why did you hinder what I wanted to do? Why did you stand up for those dregs of the Chang Clan? You wanted to help Chang CiAn? Or Chang Ping? Hahahaha, how did Chang Ping first cry tears of gratitude? And how did he later beg you not to help him? Daozhang Xiao XingChen, this matter had been your fault, ever since the beginning. You shouldn’t have meddled with the rights and wrongs of other people. Who was right, who was wrong; would an outsider be able to understand? Or, maybe you shouldn’t have even left the mountain in the first place. Your teacher, BaoShan SanRen, was indeed smart. Why didn’t you listen to her and obediently cultivate in the mountains? If you couldn’t understand the happenings of this world, then you shouldn’t have come!”

He laughed bitterly, “Xiao XingChen, this is why I hate you. The people that I hate the most are ones like you who say they’re righteous, who think they’re virtuous, precisely stupid, naive, dumb idiots like you who think the world’s better just because you did something good! You think I’m disgusting? Very well. Would I care if anybody thinks I’m disgusting? But, on the other hand, are you in a position to be disgusted by me?”

Crestfallen, Xiao XingChen kneeled on the ground, beside Song Lan’s feet. He squeezed himself close, as though he had shrunk into a small, weak lump of something, almost hoping that he’d disappear from this world. His snowy white robes had already been covered in dust and blood. Xue Yang shouted at him, “You couldn’t do anything, you’ve failed miserably, you’re the only one to blame—you asked for all of this!”

At this moment, Wei WuXian saw himself in Xiao XingChen.

Him, who failed miserably as he stood drenched in blood, who couldn’t do anything except silently acknowledge the critiques and accusations, who was wholly beyond hope, who could only cry in despair.

He could only whimper in pain, “Please. Let me go.”
...
It seemed that Xue Yang had never expected something like this to happen. On his face, which constantly grinned, an emptiness appeared for the first time.

Xiao XingChen had died.

Even his soul had shattered.

The child in Xue Yang’s story who cried because he couldn’t eat pastries was too different from the present him. It was almost impossible to link the two together. Yet, in the current moment, Wei WuXian could finally catch a few traces of that ignorant, confused child on Xue Yang’s face.

...

“What do you intend to do afterwards?”

Song Lan wrote, “Roam this world with Shuanghua. Exorcise evil beings alongside XingChen.” After a pause, he continued, “When he wakes, say I’m sorry, it wasn’t your fault.”

This was what he couldn’t tell Xiao XingChen before he died.

In front of the city gates, Song Lan parted with them.

He still wore the dark cultivation robes. Standing alone, he carried two swords, Shuanghua and Fuxue, he brought two souls, Xiao XingChen and A-Qing, and walked another path.

Lan SiZhui stared at his leaving figure, “‘Xiao XingChen, the bright moon, the gentle breeze; Song ZiChen, the distant snow, the bitter frost’… I wonder if the two of them would be able to meet each other again.”