Two dead things

"You really can't stand the man," Xie Bian said, shooting Fan Wujiu an amused smile out of the corner of his lips.

"I really can't," Fan Wujiu said, returning the smile. "Be careful with him."

There was more than simple distaste there, Xie Bian was sure of it. He wondered when they had crossed paths, and in what circumstances. The memory of his past life seemed to haunt Fan Wujiu.

Xie Bian remembered him saying he didn't deserve to forget. Part of him wanted to pry him open and look deep into his mind, sip from his memories because he had none of his own. Xie Bian was a blank slate, but he hungered for meaning.

Maybe that was why Yanluo had given him Fu Shulin's book. Maybe in some way he had anticipated this need in him, and was giving him something to sate it with.

Could he have known that Fan Wujiu's mysterious past would draw him hopelessly, like a moth that singed its wings on the flame?