In the morning they had a guest. The guest sat on a ledge with his short legs dangling, flicking dry leaves into the fire’s dying embers. He was small with dark-brown skin and a cracked, wrinkled face, like dry clumps of earth. Atop his heat a small sapling grew, its singular leaf a deep crimson. Resting near him was a walking stick twice his height, gnarled but without any signs of craftsmanship, as if it had simply grown into its current shape. Even the mortals who had never seen the likes of him knew immediately what he was: a Tudigong, a spirit of the earth.

“Though I admit it’s quite rude to seek an audience without being summoned,” he piped up as the members of the new Qiao clan awakened, “I will still claim the moral high ground. The occasional traveler passes through my lands, but few have taken to building infrastructure here. Especially without prior warning.”

Tangyou was the first to gather herself from the grips of sleep. “We would have sought your counsel eventually,” she said blearily.

The Tudigong let out a small, high-pitched laugh. “Perhaps. I’d expect as much from mortals but you lot,” he pointedly looked at each individual, lingering longest on Liuying, “are a far more…eclectic group. Pray tell, what brings a phoenix, a dragon, a snake demon, and two humans to my mountain?”

Before anyone could stop him, Prince Wenrong rose and bowed deeply to the Tudigong. “Honored earth spirit, as son of the venerable emperor I have sought to build a village on these lands with my compatriots. I am unfortunately ignorant of your customs, but if there is anything we may do to earn your cooperation–”

“Don’t debase yourself, darling,” Liuying said, pulling Wenrong up by the elbow. “He’s just a lowly steward of dirt. I ate Tudigong by the dozens.” She glared at the small clay figure perched atop the Tudigong’s shoulder. “Traitor,” she hissed.

“No need for violence, sister,” Ao Luming said, stepping between Liuying and the Tudigong. “We are nevertheless guests on this mountain.”

“Settlers, more like,” the Tudigong wrinkled his nose. “I suppose nobility such as yourselves will not pay tithes to a lowly Tudigong.”

“We hope to coexist peacefully,”

The Tudigong raised his hands. “There’s no need to insist to me. It’s the demon you should be worried about.”

“The demon?”

The Tudigong pointed down the river. “There’s a two-headed demon down the river, shambling around spilling blood and disturbing the earth. I suggest handling them before you break more ground on your village.”

“If we do,” Prince Wenrong asked cautiously, “I hope that would bode well to our future coexistence?”

The Tudigong shambled up his staff so he was eye level with the party, and bowed deeply. “If you deal with the demon, I’ll be at your service.”

-

The five of them followed the river south. The trees grew taller along the banks, obscuring the noonday sun. In the height of summer, their leaves were an almost oppressive green. The air was pleasant, the earth fragrant from the previous night’s rain. Small white mushrooms, edible according to Liuying, sprouted at the base of trees and watched like small sentinels as the travelers passed through.

“Have you hunted many demons?” Chen Di asked as the underbrush grew deeper, wading through a sea of emerald and jade. His ears, so used to the bustle of Chang’an, found each sound foreign–the singing of birds searching for mates, the footfalls of deer and foxes making the most of the forest’s bounty, and the rustling of insects burrowing into wood and soil.

Tangyou laughed and shook her head. “Before my snake sister here, I had hardly ever held a conversation with a demon, much less hunted one.”

“My father is a skilled swordsman,” Ao Luming added, “but my own martial prowess is lacking.”

Prince Wenrong merely ducked his head and glanced over to Liuying.

The snake demon sighed. “If need be, I will have no compunctions slaying my kindred. I have done so before, for smaller disagreements.”

“But hopefully it will not come to that,” Prince Wenrong said. “Perhaps we may come to an agreement with the Tudigong and this two-headed demon both.”

“We’ll see your skills of mediation in action,” Tangyou joked.

Liuying laughed. “His words are sharper than his blade.”

Though Chen Di trusted his lord’s skill in diplomacy, his heart still pounded faster as they traveled further. Walking in tandem with the likes of a dragon were one thing, but he had yet to face one in battle. Loathe as he was to admit it, when Ao Luming had transformed yesterday to swim in the river, Chen Di felt fear alongside his awe.

The feeling was not foreign to him; even as he grew up alongside his prince, he was aware of the power held by those he loved. He recognized the tender looks Prince Wenrong would give Lady Liuying whenever she spoke; the tenderness of loving something that could destroy you.

Chen Di reminded himself daily of the power he lacked; this would simply need to expand to cover matters of both heaven and earth.

Tangyou was the first to spot the demon, pausing suddenly and raising her hand to stop the others. She gestured towards a grove of trees, where between the shifting light and dark a figure stood, a horned beast with a human torso and deer legs. Long strands of hair were tangled in their antlers, so larger they could be mistaken for tree branches, if not for the severed buck’s head interlocked in them.

The head was rotted and decayed, with large swathes of skin sloughing off. Its lower jaw was missing, and its exposed teeth gave it a semblance of a macabre grin.

The group had evidently been traveling downwind, as the demon had already spotted them. They turned to flee, their deer hooves swift, but the second head kept them off balance and they stumbled in the underbrush.

“Don’t come near me,” they hissed as Tangyou drew closer. “Or I’ll have your head dangling next to my rival’s.”

Prince Wenrong’s hand went to his sword, but Tangyou held up her hand. “I wish you no harm, Two-Headed Demon of Clear Water Mountain. We are simply here to greet our neighbors.”

Chen Di glanced at Lady Liuying. “Didn’t the Tudigong specify we get rid of–?” He was quickly hushed by the snake demon.

The deer demon glared at Chen Di before sizing up everyone else, now gathered in a semicircle around them. They made an effort to stand, but was again caught off balance by the second head.

“We are the Qiao,” Ao Luming said when their gaze fell on him.

The demon narrowed their eyes. “I don’t know what that means.”

“We hope to make a new home here,” Lady Liuying said.

“Perhaps you may wish to join us,” Tangyou added.

“What use do I have for the likes of you?”

“What use do any of us have for each other, except for good company and mutual aid?” Tangyou knelt down slowly beside the deer demon and reached out a hand. “Surely you wouldn’t mind some help getting this cumbersome second head out of your antlers.”

The deer demon recoiled, but less than before. “I have carried my rival’s head with me since the spring,” they said proudly. “All who see it know I am the strongest in this forest and along the river.

“Well it certainly can’t be comfortable. And I’m not insisting on taking it. You can have your rival’s head back afterwards and continue being the most intimidating stag along the river and wherever else you so choose.”

This time the deer demon let Tangyou lay a hand on their antlers, and after some shifting she seemed to find places where there was enough give to loosen them. She gave an experimental tug on the severed head, wrapping her robe’s sleeves around her hands to not touch the rotting flesh.

There was some movement, but the antlers remained locked together.

“She may need more force,” Liuying said, looking at Chen Di expectantly. Chen Di nodded in deference to his prince’s wife and settled beside Tangyou, two hands planted firmly at the base of the severed deer’s antlers.

Up close, he could see the deer demon’s features more clearly. Their human features resembled that of a peasant, skin a warm brown from long days spent in the sun. Though they had a human face, their eyes were still that of a deer’s, all black with no white sclera. Long eyelashes extended from both the top and bottom lids, fluttering with every blink. Brown eyes and long lashes would normally seem beautiful, either on a courtesan or a fawn, but set in this demon’s face they simply reminded Chen Di that this was a wild animal, quick to startle and kill.

He could also smell the putrid stink of rotting flesh, and the earthy musk of wet fur that was the demon, which intermingled unpleasantly with Tangyou’s perfume.

He gave an experimental tug and, when he was not immediately gored by the deer demon, planted his feet and began to pull in earnest. After a few tries, the deer demon began bracing themself in the ground with their arms and their hooves.

Tangyou and Liuying were gathered at the interlocked antlers, shifting them between each try. At last, with the sound of bone on bone, the antlers came loose and Chen Di fell backwards, landing on his bottom with the severed deer head on his lap. He quickly scrambled to his feet, less a matter of decorum and more of hygiene, and quickly tossed the head back in the deer demon’s direction.

Freed of their burden, the deer demon experimentally shook their head, their movements exaggerated as they were used to the added weight.

“Who are you?” they asked again, this time less an accusation and more a genuine question.

Tangyou had settled next to them and was slowly untangling strands of their hair from their antlers. “We are the Qiao,” she repeated. “A clan connected by circumstance and not by birth. And who will take anyone into the fold, be they from heaven or from earth, human, demon, or spirit.”

“To what purpose?”

She shrugged. “Must there be a purpose to finding kin?”

The deer demon shrugged as they stood, much more gracefully than before. “May you find more members to your herd.”

“And you?” Ao Luming asked. “Are you alone on this mountain?”

The deer demon glanced aside. “I was the first deer in my herd to achieve human form. After that I could not return to them.”

“I’m sorry your family could not share in your successes,” he said. The deer demon gave a short huff. “But I forget myself. My name is Ao Luming, grandson of the Eastern Dragon King. The lu in my name is actually the character for deer.” He gave a small smile, and hesitated as the deer demon continued to look at him quizzically. “What is your name?” he finally asked.

“Those who speak often find it helpful to have a moniker, a designation of themselves,” Lady Liuying explained.

“What do you call yourself?” Tangyou supplied, having maneuvered herself behind them in order to braid the deer demon’s long hair.

“‘I’, ‘me’, or ‘the mountain.’”

“You need a clearer name than that, my dear,” Liuying said. “Otherwise it would be too confusing.”

“How about Shuangtou?” Tangyou said, finishing up the braid. “In honor of your victory.”

“Shuangtou…”

“Shuang as in ‘two,’ and tou as in ‘head.’ That way you’ll always have two heads, even if you’re not carrying around that rotting thing.” The phoenix smiled as she tucked a hair behind their ear. “Would you care to join us, Shuangtou? Come live in a village with a roof over your head and a hot meal every day. Come find a new people to belong to.”

Shaungtou’s wide eyes finally seemed innocent as they took it all in; the weight of their rival’s head off their shoulders, their hair no longer a tangled mess on their back, and a name beyond their own perceptions.

Their instinct as a prey animal kicked in and they bolted, grabbing the severed head before transforming into a deer and galloping away.

-

With more careful instructions by Prince Wenrong and the Tudigong’s advice on excavation, the first building of the Qiao village was finished three days after the travelers arrived at Clear Water Mountain. A village gate was erected a few days later, with Liuying’s flag proudly displayed.

The supplies they brought with them could not last. Someone had to journey down the mountain to the nearby village and trade for food and fuel. Naturally, the task fell to Chen Di.

As he guided his horse down a particularly steep stretch of the trail, Chen Di caught sight of a deer in the distance, its antler bare of velvet, a stark bone white against its dark brown pelt. He held up his hand in greeting, wondering how foolish he would look if that was simply a deer and not the demon that he had helped.

Perhaps he had been spending too much time with gods and demons, for his suspicions were confirmed as the deer rose on two legs, and Shuangtou’s torso transformed into that of a human. Though most of their hair was flying loose around their face, he could see the remnants of the braid Tangyou had put it in.

“You’re one of those insane village people.” They still kept their distance, shouting so their words could be heard.

“So I am,” Chen Di said, though compared to the others he felt painfully sane. With some words of encouragement, he dropped the bridle of his horse and began to walk towards Shuangtou with slow steps, the way he had heard hunters suggest when approaching prey. “I’m glad you are doing well, Shuangtou.”

They flinched at their name. “I don’t know your name,” they said.

“Chen Di.”

“Why are you walking towards me?”

Chen Di paused, and looked down at his feet. A gentle breeze stirred, carrying with it welcome coolness. The first herald of autumn on the horizon. It felt especially good against the sweat on his back, and his underarms where his clothing stuck to his skin.

His hand went to the ribbon wrapped around his arm, as it often did since he had arrived at Clear Water Mountain and told his story that first night. He was no longer in Chang’an. The brand held no meaning here in the wild.

With a deliberate tug he untied the ribbon and held it up to show the deer demon. “I like the braid my lady phoenix has given you,” he said. “Try tying a ribbon at the base to preserve its longevity.”

The breeze carried it towards Shuangtou, and landed on their antler.

Chen Di waited, expecting Shuangtou to run as they did before, but they simply stood there and continued to stare at him. Finally, it was he who, feeling like an insect being examined under a spyglass, went back to his horse and continued his journey onwards.

Like a wild animal with the taste for human food, Shuangtou lingered at the edge of the Qiao village, never entering, but startling less and less with each trip down the mountain. And Chen Di would make many such trips, returning to the Qiao with seeds to plant and livestock to herd and breed. Eventually he would acquire all the wood and stone necessary to build sturdy houses, which were settled in slowly by strays who needed homes.

Though he had no special senses, Chen Di began to distinguish Qiao Village by its smell. Mixed in with the smell of smoke and pastures, there was a scent he could never quite place. Incense and the smell of rain.

Later on, as the Qiao’s numbers grew, Chen Di relished the uphill climb more. When he arrived at Clear Water Mountain, under the golden flag Liuying had sewn the first day, he was Uncle Chen, bringing sugar to be spun into sweets and cloth to be made into toys.

Eventually, he could tell he was close to his destination by the sound of children’s laughter.

Tudigong are earth spirits that often act as little expositors in Chinese myth. They act as witnesses but not actors.
Shuangtou is 双头.