The tavern they found was tucked away in a corner outside of the Celestial Palace gates, a little too unassuming for a place that frequently hosted immortals looking for a brief escape from their duties. A beauty dressed in rich crimson silk and adorned with intricate gold hair ornaments stepped in, her posture regal despite her dramatic entrance.
The patrons were shocked when this noble beauty kicked open the door, grinning like a fox that had just escaped the henhouse. “Get ready to drink, everyone,” she declared, “The Third Prince is buying drinks for the whole tavern tonight!”
Li Nezha feigned dismay while signaling to the tavern keeper to bring out their best wine.
“Third Prince, back so soon?” one of the kitchen cooks called out with a grin, wiping his hands on his apron.
Li Nezha straightened his back, squared his shoulders, and plastered on a look of exaggerated innocence. He glanced around the tavern with wide, curious eyes.
“Kind sir, you must be mistaken,” he murmured. “I have never been here before.”
The room went silent for a beat.
Then, like the crack of thunder after a storm, the entire tavern erupted with laughter.
“Never been here before?” one of the patrons wheezed, slapping his knee. “Third Prince, you’ve practically got your own seat carved out by now!”
Li Nezha laughed along with everyone and made his way to his usual spot. The others joined him.
“Can you believe the casual way they’re all talking to me?” he said with a pout, still holding on to Ao Bing’s sleeve.
“I see you haven’t changed a bit,” Ao Bing muttered, shaking the Third Prince off finally.
“You’re still so cold,” Li Nezha said, pouting even more.
During this playful exchange, it struck both men at once how different the other looked from the boy they remembered. The roundness of youth had sharpened into defined lines; they carried themselves with the weight of people who had lived and fought and endured. Li Nezha’s once unruly features had matured into something that was both striking and mischievous. The Third Prince’s smile seemed a tad less reckless now, tempered by something deeper. Ao Bing, in turn, was broader, his poise steadier, the faint steel in his expression softened only by the flicker of recognition in his golden eyes.
They were no longer children. They were men now, twenty years old, carrying scars both seen and unseen.
As they settled around a low wooden table, Erlang Shen sat back with the kind of practiced grace that made even the act of drinking wine look aristocratic. His sharp gaze swept over the group before finally landing on Li Nezha.
“So,” Erlang Shen drawled, lifting his cup to his lips, “it seems you’re still terrible at staying out of trouble, Third Prince.”
Li Nezha grinned, saying Erlang Shen was only jealous since he didn’t have hoards of women chasing after him daily.
Sun Wukong snickered, her eyes twinkling with amusement. She glanced at Ao Bing, then back at Li Nezha, picking up on earlier when they reacted upon learning of each other's names for the first time. “How exactly do you two know each other?” Sun Wukong asked, her tone sweet but laced with curiosity.
Ao Bing’s posture went still. Li Nezha had no such instinct. He set his cup down with a thud, grin bright and unhelpful.
Ao Bing exhaled. “Zhenwei—”
“We met as kids,” Nezha said, puffing up like a victorious rooster. “Jianyu was barely out of the egg, just a tiny little dragon baby—”
“Enough,” Ao Bing warned, low.
“—and I found him looking very tragic.” Nezha pressed a hand to his chest, saintly. “Naturally, I was moved to comfort him.”
Sun Wukong’s mouth curved. “How heroic.”
Ao Bing’s eyes slid to Nezha. “He talked. That was the comfort.”
Nezha gasped in mock offense, slapping a hand to the table. “Unbelievable. You make it sound like I wasn’t the best thing that ever happened to you.”
Ao Bing’s mouth twitched, but he hid it behind his cup.
Sun Wukong, watching the exchange, only laughed harder.
“Well then,” Ao Bing said, voice even, a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. “Since we’re trading stories… Do you remember practicing by the cliffs?”
Li Nezha’s eyes flicked away. “Can’t say I do.”
Ao Bing leaned back. “You were busy showing off, missed your footing, and went over the edge. Snapped your leg.”
Nezha grimaced. “Minor detail.”
“And who climbed down and hauled you back while you swore the heavens were ending?”
“I had a broken leg, Jianyu.” Color crept into Nezha’s cheeks. “Forgive the dramatics.”
“I seem to recall singing to shut you up.”
Across the table, Sun Wukong choked on a laugh and topped off her cup, delighted.
“We were kids,” Nezha muttered.
“Fifteen,” Ao Bing corrected, which earned a fresh ripple of laughter.
The stories kept coming—fewer flourishes, more truth—until the table was a quiet chorus of snorts and half-hidden smiles. Even the nearby patrons leaned in. By the time the wine arrived, the edge between them had thinned into something familiar.
“Didn’t realize you two went that far back,” Sun Wukong said, wiping her eyes. It was not lost on her that these two princes, heirs to power that could sway both Heaven and Sea, were addressing each other not with titles or formality, but with names soft enough to belong to a childhood that neither seemed willing to forget. Stripped of crowns, stripped of armor. Just boys, once, and maybe still.
Li Nezha tipped his cup for a refill. “We’ve collected our share of stories,” he said.
Sun Wukong poured the Third Prince another cup, cheeks still warm from laughter. Around them the tavern’s sounds returned—the rattle of dice, the scrape of stools, a lute plucking a half-remembered tune. The Third Prince's smile lingered, then slipped into something quieter.
“So,” he said at last, voice steady as he switched his tone, “what paths lie ahead for you all, now that the war has ended?”
The question drew the mirth down a notch. Sun Wukong leaned back, chair balanced on two legs, boots nudging the table. “I’ll stay with the Celestial Plains Army,” she said. “They could use my expertise in unpredictability.”
Li Neza arched a brow. “Unpredictability, or chaos?”
She smirked. “Peace is never truly quiet—bandits grow bold, magistrates grow careless. There will be fires to stamp out. I’ll see to them.” Her tone was light; her eyes were not.
Across the table, Erlang Shen set his cup down, fingers tracing the rim. “I think I’m going to turn to intelligence. Information. During the war, we lost too much for what we did not see soon enough. I want to build a system of messengers, hidden ledgers, eyes and ears in every court. Trouble should be cut before it learns to call itself war.”
Sun Wukong let out a low whistle. “No one better than you to start that,” she said. Erlang Shen was born of one of the oldest noble houses in the Celestial Realms—wealth and influence at his back, but sharpened by a mind far keener than most of his peers. From childhood, he had been trained not only in sword and bow, but in law, strategy, and the intricacies of court politics. He could read the weave of power the way others read constellations, seeing patterns before anyone else noticed the shape. If anyone could turn shadows into order, it was him.
Li Nezha tipped his cup toward him as a salute.
Ao Bing had been silent until now, the lamplight cutting strong lines across his face. “I’ll remain with the Celestial Navy,” he said. His voice was even, but his hand tightened on the rim of his cup before loosening again.
Li Neza turned to him. He remembered well how Ao Bing had always carried himself as a warrior in training—dutiful, disciplined, but never with the fire of one who lived for the clash of battlel.“Is that what you really want to do?”
Ao Bing’s gaze held steady. “Yes.”
Sun Wukong studied him for a moment but said nothing.
Li Nezha swirled his wine.. “And as for me… I have been thinking of civil duty.”
Sun Wukong’s eyes widened, sharp with mockery. “The Third Prince, buried in scrolls and ledgers? Hardly the Li Nezha I know.”
“Laugh if you must,” he said, but there was no bite in it. Roads that last through storms, granaries that open when hunger comes, records that keep faith instead of lining pockets. That may be the work worth doing.”
Silence followed, thoughtful rather than heavy. Around them, a serving girl passed with a tray, and from the far corner came a cheer at a lucky throw of dice. Erlang Shen studied the Third Prince with new measure; Ao Bing’s gaze dropped to the woodgrain of the table.
None of them hurried to speak. The war had reshaped them; some pieces had yet to find their places. Outside, a night wind stirred the tavern door, setting the hanging charms to a soft chime. For once, the road ahead did not look like a battlefield. It looked like a map unmarked—its edges waiting to be drawn.
They continued to drink and laugh, trading stories about the war and their misadventures afterward. As the night wore on, Sun Wukong glanced at the stars outside, her expression shifting ever so slightly.
“I should go,” she said, standing abruptly and dusting off her robes.
“Where are you off to?” Erlang Shen asked, eyebrow raised.
“Nowhere you need to worry about,” Sun Wukong said smoothly, but before she could make her exit, Ao Bing’s voice cut through the air. It was probably the wine that gave him permission to tease her, but he couldn’t help himself.
“Tell my brother I say hello.”
Sun Wukong froze, her hand tightening around the edge of the table. Her gaze snapped to Ao Bing, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “I am not meeting Ao Jia,” she bit out, her tone laced with irritation.
“I didn’t say Ao Jia, for all you know, I could have meant Ao Yi,” Ao Bing smirked.
Without another word, Sun Wukong turned on her heel and stormed out of the tavern, muttering curses under her breath.
“Well done,” Erlang Shen murmured, laughing to himself, draining the last of his wine. “I should go too. Early morning.” He stood with practiced ease, giving a respectful nod before heading toward the door.
That left Ao Bing and Li Nezha.
For a moment, they simply sat there, the lingering silence of the tavern wrapping around them.
“Want to take a walk?” Li Nezha asked softly, his voice breaking the quiet.
Ao Bing gave a nonchalant shrug. “Sure.” It was probably best to sober up a bit before heading back to the Crystal Palace.
The cool night air wrapped around them as they walked through the quiet streets, the once-lively Celestial Market now bathed in a gentle hush. The festive chaos of the banquet hall had faded into a distant hum, replaced by the soft rustling of silk banners swaying lazily in the night breeze. The scent of jasmine and lotus lingered in the air, mingling with the faint sweetness of incense that drifted from nearby shrines.
Li Nezha tilted his head, side-eyeing Ao Bing with a lopsided grin. “So... Your Highness Ao Bing.”
Ao Bing’s steps faltered for just a moment, his gaze snapping toward Li Nezha.
“I mean, that’s what I’m supposed to call you now, isn’t it?” Li Nezha teased, his grin widening. “Prince of the Eastern Sea, youngest son of the great Dragon King.” He gave an exaggerated salute.
Ao Bing grimaced, his nose wrinkling slightly. Li Nezha smirked.
Ao Bing shot him a look. “And I suppose I should be addressing you as Third Prince Li Nezha, hero of the Celestial Realms?”
The words hung between them for a moment, and as they echoed softly in the still night. It didn’t feel right to call one another anything else. Not when they had known each other for years as Jianyu and Zhenwei.
Li Nezha ran a hand through his hair, his smile softening. “Jianyu... Is it okay if I still call you that?”
Ao Bing’s gaze softened, his golden eyes reflecting the gentle glow of the lanterns, and suddenly he felt himself feeling shy. “Sure.”
They fell back into step, the playful ease between them returning, as if no time had passed. The weight of titles slipped away—leaving only the familiar comfort of their childhood friendship.
“You know,” Li Nezha said softly after a while, his voice carrying just a hint of pride, “I kept my promise.”
Ao Bing glanced at him, his expression unreadable. “What promise?”
Li Nezha’s eyes were twinkling with that same mischievous spark that had gotten them into trouble countless times before. “I told you I’d find you after the war.”
“You didn’t exactly find me,” Ao Bing said dryly, crossing his arms. “You just ran into me.”
“Well,” Li Nezha shrugged, his tone playful, “we’re here, aren’t we?”
Ao Bing opened his mouth to argue, but after a beat, he sighed and gave a reluctant nod.
For a time, they continued to walk in silence, the steady rhythm of their steps blending with the whisper of silk banners overhead.
“Did you miss me?” Li Nezha asked suddenly, all the wine sending a rush of blood to his head.
Ao Bing huffed, but the quick flush of heat in his ears betrayed him. “Don’t push your luck.”
Li Nezha’s laughter carried softly down the lantern-lit street, weaving into the hush of the Celestial Market, until the sound was lost to the night.
Author's Note:
oooohhh lore time ✨ we finally got to peek at what everyone wants after the war—Sun Wukong being chaotic (of course), Erlang Shen plotting his future as basically the first celestial spymaster 👀, Ao Bing pretending the Navy is totally fine (it’s not), and Li Neza casually dropping “maybe I’ll fix the empire???” like that’s normal 😂 also, past Jianyu and Zhenwei! need more of them all the time. soft soft soft.
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