the vagaries of man - PearlescentHarmony - 陈情令 (2024)

Chapter 1: the solemn harbinger of blight

Chapter Text

The golden age of the martial world was marked by the rise of the Jin Dynasty, a supposed era of peace after decades of tyranny under the Wen Dynasty.

Naturally, the Jin Dynasty, meaning the Dynasty of Gold, was bound to produce treasures and progress. Innovation spread like wildfire now that bans were lifted, and commerce boomed when trade route restrictions vanished into thin air.

Jin Guangshan, now crowned Emperor Qingling after establishing the Jin Dynasty, sat himself in the newly replaced seat of Chief Cultivator and Emperor of China. No matter what happens next, he would be honored for centuries as the first emperor of the new dynasty.

So of course, tidal waves shocked the entire country, and as the Imperial Court was being assembled, there were sects opposing the idea.

After all, the Jin Family only took the throne—their hands were stained with the least blood.

But they had wealth and influence, and within the time it took to burn an incense stick, the strongly-opposing sects ceased to exist.

Alongside the reconstruction of the Imperial Court was the reconstruction of the military, which Emperor Qingling deliberated over with his advisors.

“Your Majesty, I’ve brought a list of notable cultivators that fought for us in the usurpation.”

Emperor Qingling stroked his beard, looking at the unraveled scroll. He was not much of a soldier or military man—preferring matters of the economy. Of course, that was not to say that he was inferior in cultivation. No one could say that nowadays.

His eyes landed upon two names, and his eyes glittered in the same way a happy merchant’s eyes do.

“Appoint these brothers as imperial generals. They will be responsible for guarding the palace.”

The day that the imperial edict arrived, snow had begun to fall, and frost had begun to coat the bamboo that grew around the Yin residence.

“By order of His Majesty, Emperor Qingling, Yin Xichen and Yin Wangji are to receive the positions of Imperial General, and are to be stationed in Jinlintai! They will receive salaries of ten thousand gold taels, and…”

Lan Wangji’s ear buzzed.

Before the Wen Dynasty, there had been a short-lived Lan Dynasty. All records of it were burned to ashes, and all those who dared to remember it either died via execution or old age during the Wen Dynasty. By the time the Jin Dynasty was established, all of the Wens had been wiped out and no heirs of any previous dynasties lingered.

At least, known heirs.

Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji’s parents fled the palace at a young age, knowing that a fight against the Wen Family would only result in death. Therefore, they could only hide away.

It was easy—due to his blasphemous unity with a cultivator and not an elite, the brothers’ father was hidden away and made no public appearances, and eventually people assumed he was dead. They weren’t aware that he was married.

For decades, they lived as commoners, changing identities every now and then to hide their delayed aging.

Eventually, some years before the rise of the Jin Dynasty, Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji were born. They were given the false surnames of Yin, and secretly focused on their cultivation and education.

Then, their mother died. It was as if Shangdi told her that her purpose was fulfilled.

Truthfully, her marriage was not out of love, but rather obsession. She only stayed and bore her husband's children because the weight of the fallen Lan Dynasty fell on her to continue it.

Their father passed not long afterwards in a fit of grief.

The Lan brothers, sleeves covered with tears, were taken away by the nearby villagers without a chance to bury their parents.

From there, they entered the orphanage, growing up unadopted by will until they were old enough to leave on their own.

Unbound to any sect, they watched the Sunshot Campaign come into formation, assisting them against the Wens. A form of avenging perhaps, or maybe filial duty.

No matter what it was, the Lan brothers grew in power and fame. When the war was over, the Jin Family claimed the throne for themselves, and the Lan brothers returned to their home in the outskirts of the capital Gusu—the Frost-Laden Manor.

It used to be a small sect building, one that went bankrupt after spending all of its funding into the decor and luxuriousness of the property.

Lan Xichen creased his eyebrow slightly at the sound of the edict. “Jinlintai”? If one looked at the palace, seeing it suspended up in the air to mingle with the clouds, clearly it was only right for it to be named the Cloud Recesses. When the capital moved to Gusu in the rise of the Lan Dynasty, this was the name given to the imperial palace.

The crown prince, Prince Jin Zixuan, concluded the edict. He softly smiled, “There is a palanquin waiting outside. I will ask some of the palace servants to assist you in packing up your belongings.”

Lan Xichen’s eyelids fluttered. How could he forget? Edicts were not slips asking for permission, but laws.

Lan Wangji, stone-faced as ever, flipped his sleeve gracefully and summoned Bichen from the nearby sword stand.

“No need. We will leave now.”

“No please! Please I swear to never do harm anymore, I will live as a monk for the rest of my life, just please—!”

An explosion fired in the air, followed by a series of rippling crackles that died down.

Wei Wuxian threw his head backwards as he remembered the golden fireworks which signified a victorious moment—the coronation of Jin Guangshan.

It had been many years since then. Wei Wuxian quietly sat in his room, munching on sunflower seeds, having retired from his background role in the war to live in peace in the mountains.

Remembering his role in the Sunshot Campaign, he turned his head slowly, “Master, it’s been so long. How many years do I have left in my discipleship?”

“Not long.” A deep feminine voice rang out behind her veiled hat, “Wei Ying, you began a life of lies after that stunt you pulled under my name with your junior martial brother. You dare ask how long your punishment will be?”

“Punishment?” Wei Wuxian laughed, “Master, you wound me. This is hardly a punishment to me—it’s an opportunity.”

“An opportunity for what?”

“For me to rise again.”

“Through demonic cultivation?”

“No.” Wei Wuxian’s smile faltered, “For me to find a way to expel all of this yin energy.”

“You are the first to be able to successfully cultivate demonic energy. With the future of becoming a grandmaster inventor, you dare not take it?”

Wei Wuxian shook his head, “It’s not that I don’t dare, Master. It’s that this sort of knowledge should die with me. It should not be allowed to be perpetuated in the cultivation world.”

“Regardless of whether or not you renounce your title as grandmaster, your demonic inventions have made their way throughout China like water.” Baoshan Sanren closed her eyes, “But, it seems that the hubris of man evades you.”

Wei Wuxian laughed, “Master, don’t think so highly of me. It is true that giving up the future of demonic cultivation is selfless, but I still need to use it for now. Just until there’s a cure.”

“The temporary core I’ve given you will repel demonic energy. Cultivate the proper way before it runs out.”

“Master, you know that this core cannot be used that way. Just until there’s a cure, until there’s a way for me to receive a proper, permanent core,”

Baoshan Sanren, holding the aura of a bitter person and gripping a sword meant to splinter, exhaled, “You are the first disciple I have allowed to leave this mountain and come back, and because of it, you seem to hold high ambitions for yourself.”

Wei Wuxian lowered his eyelids, “Yes, I am not a selfless person like Xiao Xingchen.”

He looked up at Baoshan Sanren, “Do you regret taking me in?”

With some hesitation, Baoshan Sanren closed her eyes, “You crawled out of the Burial Mounds like some fiend brimming with demonic energy. Yet somehow, this mountain opened its arms to you and allowed you to find what could not be found by even the purest cultivator in the world. It was not my decision to make.”

Wei Wuxian pursed his lips into a small smile, “One day, I will leave this mountain and never come back. I will watch the lotus flowers bloom in Yunmeng and stand in the falling rain of Gusu. I will drink as much wine as I want, flirt with as many young women as I want to, and live the life I want to live.”

Wei Wuxian leaned forward, eating a sunflower seed before continuing, “Knowing of my secular dreams, would you still have no regrets?”

Baoshan Sanren smiled behind her veil, “It still isn’t my decision to make.”

Wei Wuxian chuckled under his breath and ate another seed.

Baoshan Sanren long dropped the smile before she spoke, “Wei Ying.”

“Yes, Master?”

“You asked me earlier how long you would have left in your discipleship.”

“I did, yes.”

Baoshan Sanren walked towards Wei Wuxian until she stood before him. Wei Wuxian stood up promptly.

“Wei Wuxian, I, Baoshan Sanren, expel you from this mountain and discipleship.”

Wei Wuxian’s heart dropped, “Master—“

“You were not officially my disciple, nor am I officially your master.” Baoshan Sanren held up her hand, “Live the life you deserve. But, you must promise me one thing—one last mission under my command.”

Wei Wuxian saluted with his head dipped low, “I will accept.”

Baoshan Sanren fell quiet after the declaration of acceptance. Looking at Wei Wuxian, he really did take after his mother—impulsive, secular, devoted, and by all means, determined to accomplish whatever she wanted to achieve.

It annoyed her to no end.

The trip to Jinlintai was not very long. However, to Lan Xichen, it seemed that it would never end.

Lan Wangji had his eyes closed and seemed to be meditating. Lan Xichen dipped his head, “Lord Chun.”

Prince Jin Zixuan tilted his head to face him, “Hm?”

“I do not mean to question His Majesty, but we are cultivators unbound to any sect. We only assisted in a few battles, and nothing more. To assign us as imperial generals…”

The prince only laughed, “You are quite humble. My father believes that your assistance was of great use, and wishes to reward you handsomely for your efforts. The workload will not be difficult, and you are free to leave Jinlintai for any reason, so long as you return when the need arises. Your residence has been prepared already and equipped with enough servants to maintain it. His Majesty wishes you to live a comfortable life.”

Lan Xichen dipped his head again in a small nod, “I see. I thank His Majesty for his benevolence.”

He snuck Lan Wangji a small glance, seeing that he was still meditating.

Suddenly, a commotion arose outside—screams and slashes. Prince Jin Zixuan jumped up, turning to the brothers, “Stay here. I will go out and assess the situation.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

When he left the palanquin, Lan Wangji opened his eyes, “Brother.”

Lan Xichen was in a small daze at the sudden drop in mood, “Yes, Wangji?”

“Do you hear that?”

Lan Xichen closed his eyes and focused, before his eyes flew open, “Flute music?”

Lan Wangji nodded, “It is not emitting any spiritual energy.”

“It seems to be a local tune.”

“A message?”

Lan Wangji kept listening to the subtle music. Amidst the scraping of metal against metal and various battle cries, it was difficult to hear much of it. By the time the battling stopped, the flute music was long gone, as if it were a hallucination.

Prince Jin Zixuan climbed back into the palanquin, knocking on the side to continue movement, “Strange. All were clad in black and red, but sparred with no spiritual energy infused into their weapons. We suffered no casualties.”

Lan Xichen clenched his outer robe into his fist, “It must be a message then, but of what kind?”

The prince stabilized his breathing, “Have you been targeted before?”

Lan Xichen’s eyes wavered for a moment, remembering fire erupting from the depths of the Cloud Recesses.

“No, Your Highness.”

Jiang Cheng bit his fingernails.

Ever since Baoshan Sanren repaired his golden core and Wei Wuxian ran away in their sleep all those years ago, there was a nauseating feeling in his guts.

Jiang Yanli looked up, “A-Cheng, stop it.”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes wavered, “A-Jie, I’ve dispatched all available men to find him, and he hasn’t turned up anywhere, dead or alive. How do you expect me to rest well?”

“A-Xian will be okay, just trust him. Eat before the food gets cold, okay?”

But Jiang Cheng, for whatever reason, felt like eating was a waste of time. He should be looking, looking for any trace of Wei Wuxian. The bastard didn’t even have the decency to leave a note, having the gall to look long-faced before Jiang Cheng’s successful two-day operation and now disappearing off to who-knows-where!

Jiang Cheng pinched his nose bridge, “Once he gets back here, I’m making him compensate for all of the expended resources.”

Jiang Yanli stood up with a demure smile, “I will go now, A-Cheng.”

He immediately frowned, “To that peaco*ck?”

“Don’t say that, the palace has ears.”

Jiang Cheng grumbled as an eunuch from the Blooming Garden, Emperor Qingling’s residence, entered his Lakeside Manor after being announced.

Jiang Yanli lingered as Jiang Cheng stood, “What is it?”

“His Majesty has brought gifts as additional rewards for your efforts in the Sunshot Campaign—ten thousand taels of gold, fourteen bolts of brocade, and ten boxes of pearls.”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes wavered, and he flipped his hand towards the nearby servant, “Go accept them. I thank His Majesty for his graciousness.”

The eunuch smiled before walking out with the servant, and Jiang Cheng let out a small sigh.

“Truthfully, those gifts are meant for Wei Wuxian…”

Lan Wangji had his taste of loss, and decided that it wasn’t to his liking.

He was not interested in the throne in the slightest, but being so close to it and not being able to reveal his identity was painful. He knew well that the Jins would not take well to the Lan Dynasty’s revival, no matter how many taels of gold or political roles they would compensate them for.

The seat of heaven’s ordained son was too great.

Thus, he could only sigh, watching his warm breath form a small cloud in front of his face.

“Wangji, you should’ve worn thicker robes if you planned on standing outside.”

But Lan Wangji stubbornly shook his head, “Not cold.”

Years of living in the orphanage had whittled his cold intolerance down to nothing. All he felt now was a small tingling sensation that was easy to ignore.

“Come inside. The wind is picking up.” Lan Xichen urged, and Lan Wangji reluctantly followed.

As they walked inside towards the warmth, Lan Xichen looked up, “Wangji, the pattern of remnant puppets is becoming more and more irregular by the day.”

Lan Wangji gave a firm nod, “Mn. I have already reallocated troops to Gusu’s borders.”

Lan Xichen shook his head, “All of a sudden, they seem to be headed for Jinlintai. But I cannot figure out what they are seeking. The puppets captured have all disintegrated and have no response to any stimuli we’ve presented them.”

Lan Wangji had a few theories, the main one being that the puppeteer was in Jinlintai, but this was an unsubstantiated claim as much as his other theories. They had little records on demonic puppets, and the former acting emperor Wen Ruohan’s control on puppets was so weak that it could hardly be considered control.

If Lan Wangji had to describe it, it was more like rounding up wild animals and releasing them wherever he pleased. Many casualties were Wen soldiers caught up in the puppet’s attacks.

For a ruler like Wen Ruohan though, these losses were hardly met with tears. He could only blame them on their incompetence and lack of self-defensive skills.

Lan Xichen continued, “It seems that they only multiply, without showing any signs of dying out. This is really…”

Lan Wangji only lowered his eyelids.

Suddenly, he felt a warmth on his forehead. His ear twitched, and his eyes shot wide open as he unsheathed Bichen with a glowing white glare.

In front of him was a man dressed in blacks and reds. He held a pitch black flute in his left hand, and a yellow paper talisman in his right. He was covered in a blue fire that dissipated quickly. After a few seconds, the talisman incinerated into ash, and the man flung the palmful of black ash outside into the courtyard.

For breaking into the Rimefrost Villa, even Jinlintai, without alerting any nearby servants, this man had to be a cultivator of high cultivation. Even so, Bichen did not shudder.

The man dusted off some snow from his robes before turning around. He was youthful with a bright face, though he had noticeable eye bags and was remarkably thin.

He looked at Lan Wangji before his gaze flitted towards Lan Xichen, and then back at Lan Wangji, “…”

Lan Wangji gripped Bichen tighter, “Why have you broken in?”

“Broken in?” The man looked around, “I see nothing broken, nor anyone dead.”

“Then why are you here?”

“A visit, naturally,” the man quickly drew up a silencing field that encircled the three, “but first,” the man looked at Lan Xichen, “draw your sword and let me look at it.”

There was a noticeable distance between the brothers and the man, so while Lan Xichen did indeed unsheathe Shuoyue after some hesitation, the man squinted, unsatisfied.

“Let me look at it.”

Lan Xichen drew back a step, “For what reason—“

Without allowing him to finish his sentence, the man held out a hand and concentrated a bout of spiritual energy into it, from where Shuoyue shot out of Lan Xichen’s hand and rested in the man’s palm.

Lan Wangji jolted and began to start towards the man, but Lan Xichen held him by his shoulder with a stern face. It was as if to say that they should not trifle with the man.

Lan Wangji relented. For this man to be able to summon Shuoyue—a high-class spiritual weapon—to his hand so easily, perhaps it was smart to hold back.

The man looked at the characters on the blade as well as the handle and hilt, scrutinizing every detail. After a few seconds, the man’s arm holding Shuoyue began to tremble, after which the man flung Shuoyue back into the sheath in Lan Xichen’s hand.

Lan Wangji relaxed, but his body was still rather tense. The man was silent before looking at Lan Wangji.

At first, he was afraid the man would ask for Bichen as well, taking note to observe Shuoyue once everything was over to make sure the man didn’t do anything to the sword.

However, the man only stood strong in the veranda hallway, “Bichen?”

Lan Wangji hesitated before nodding once. He stared without blinking, knowing that such an action could mean life or death.

However, the man dropped to his knees and held his arms out in front of him, his fingertips touching as he held his flute in between. Lan Xichen made a small, shocked sound as he let go of Lan Wangji, while the latter froze as Bichen was lowered.

Before either Lan brother could say or do anything, the man took a deep breath before announcing with his chest:

“By the command of my former master, Baoshan Sanren, and the Scroll of Guanyin—I, Wei Wuxian, the Patriarch of Yiling, will escort the rightful imperial heirs of Lan to the throne!”

Chapter 2: fallen snow and peony petals

Chapter Text

Lan Wangji’s face was stone-cold, but his heart dropped.

Had their identities been leaked?

Lan Xichen stepped forward, “You…”

He was also at a loss for words, his grip on Shuoyue shuddering. Lan Wangji’s hold on Bichen was stable, but spiritual energy uncontrollably leaked from his body’s pores like a slow fountain.

Wei Wuxian was still on his knees.

Lan Wangji’s voice trembled as he struggled to speak quietly, “Wei Wuxian?”

Wei Wuxian’s throat noticeably bobbed, “Yes, it is me.”

“Where have you been?”

“With Baoshan Sanren, recovering.”

“Recovering from what?”

Wei Wuxian stood up in silence, and glared at Lan Wangji with dead eyes, “That does not pertain to my mission.”

Lan Wangji shut his mouth, gritting his teeth, “Jiang Wanyin has been tearing up all of China looking for you for the past few years, making an enormous ruckus in Jinlintai.”

“I know.”

“Why do you choose now to come back, and not to him?”

“Baoshan Sanren got sick of me, naturally. Your Highness, you will come to know me as insufferable. Jiang Cheng would kill me if he heard I returned.”

Lan Xichen held up his hand before Lan Wangji could speak, “Young master, please do not call us that. We go by the surname Yin.”

Wei Wuxian patted his mouth, “Ohh, that’s right. Yin Xichen and Yin Wangji… tsk, it really doesn’t suit you. And, no need to call me ‘young master’, I don’t deserve the title. Just ‘Wei Wuxian’ or ‘Wei Ying’ is fine.”

Lan Wangji stiffened his jaw, “What is the Scroll of Guanyin?”

“Your key to the throne. Don’t fret—it’s safe with me. I’m sorry, I cannot allow you to see it. It is unstable at the moment.”

Lan Wangji grit his teeth, and Wei Wuxian lifted his head a notch, “Ah, don’t give me that look please. I am not tricking you, I swear by the heavens!”

He lifted three fingers in the air beside his head and nodded firmly. Lan Wangji halted for a moment before sheathing Bichen.

Wei Wuxian lowered his arm, “The scroll is safe. I just cannot take it out at the moment without risking its destruction. Please understand.”

Lan Xichen gave a small nod. Lan Wangji relaxed his grip on Bichen, “How long?”

“Sorry?”

“How long until it can be taken out?”

“I’m not sure.” Wei Wuxian shook his head, “My former master told me that I would just know.”

Lan Wangji’s eye twitched, but he looked at the ground. He couldn’t fully trust this person, but he spoke with such determination and conviction that it began to be difficult to suspect him if anything but.

Regardless, his upbringing couldn’t allow him to drop his guard, so he collected his spiritual energy and evenly distributed it to his limbs as Lan Xichen spoke, “So what’s the plan?”

Wei Wuxian shrugged, “I can’t march up Jinlintai and throne you myself without the scroll… so we wait?”

“Why come down the mountain now, then, and not later when the scroll is ready to be presented?”

To that, Wei Wuxian scratched his head, “It’s a little complicated, General Yin.”

Lan Xichen smiled, “Then how can we help?”

Wei Wuxian glanced at Lan Wangji before looking back at Lan Xichen, “Formulate a plan for when it’s time. It’s difficult for me to enter Jinlintai, even if I tout my former master’s name. And, who’s to say that the emperor won’t have us executed for wanting to usurp the throne? Even with the Scroll of Guanyin and my former master’s name, it’s easy to dissolve the scroll and kill all of us.”

“So we must find a way to make it difficult for His Majesty to refuse us.”

Lan Wangji prickled at the thought.

Emperors, by nature, are ambitious and self-serving. Whatever action they took, whoever they talked to—all of it was to benefit himself. They would not step down from the throne easily, especially not because of some legendary scroll.

That meant that the only way for them to take back the throne was for the emperor to die.

In addition to that, all of his princes must be willing to let their dynasty die off after the first emperor, and for a supposedly-extinct dynasty to make a grand revival.

This also meant that any advisor and official that had an inkling of still allying with the Jins had to be stripped of their power or life.

Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji didn’t grow up cynical of life, and instead made it their own doctrine to help and support people unless it was during wartime. Killing someone, nevermind the Emperor of China and the Chief Cultivator, was absolutely out of the question for their character.

Wei Wuxian, seeing Lan Wangji’s bitter expression, made a reassuring sound and waved his hand, “Aiya, whatever horrible thought you have brewing in your head, Yin Zhan, stop it. Murder and treason isn’t the only way—let’s think of diplomatic ways instead.”

Lan Wangji froze, “You…”

Wei Wuxian tilted his head in confusion before his mouth formed an O, “Ohh, should I call you ‘General Yin’ as well? But your brother is also ‘General Yin’, so you must be ‘Second General Yin.’ I’m sorry, Second General Yin, my former master told me that you and I are the same age, so I got ahead of myself. Forgive me, forgive me…”

Lan Wangji lowered his eyelids, and Lan Xichen chuckled, “Do not worry, Young Master Wei, Wangji is just surprised that you knew his birth name.”

“Ahh, ‘Zhan’? It’s a wonderful name—it really rolls off the tongue. Then,” Wei Wuxian turned to Lan Wangji with an amiable smile, “shall I call you ‘Yin Zhan’ or ‘Second General Yin’?”

Lan Wangji’s eyes wavered, and Wei Wuxian spoke before he could say anything.

“Hmm, calling you with the surname ‘Yin’ feels weird…” Wei Wuxian put a finger to his chin before perking up, “How about ‘Zhan-er’?”

Lan Wangji flared, “Ridiculous!”

Lan Xichen laughed, “Wangji doesn’t like being teased, Young Master Wei.”

Wei Wuxian laughed as well, a little more heartily and from the chest, “I can tell, his ears go pink!”

To that, Lan Wangji unsheathed Bichen, “Wei Wuxian!”

“Ahh!”

Baoshan Sanren, after Wei Wuxian left the mountain, began to contemplate her past students.

She was once like them—ambitious and with secular dreams that she enacted both upon herself and the world around her. After some time, after some dynasties, after saving emperors and cultivators and commoners alike, she found out that the world was quite dull, and that was the beauty of it.

But she wasn’t attracted to that sort of mundane appreciation, and after many years and cultivation phases, she secluded herself to one of the heavenly mountains and declared herself to be an immortal who wished nothing but peace for herself.

After achieving immortality, she lost nearly all feelings. Disciple after disciple, death after death, it had numbed her senses.

Even so, she knew that there was a small spark in her core that thought otherwise. A disturbance in the field told her so.

She poured herself a cup of tea and waited.

And waited, and waited…

“Master!”

She rose, flipping her sleeve as she put the teacup down and exited her residence.

At the peak of the staircase, she kept her head high but drew her gaze low, watching a figure carry another up the stairs one by one.

The figure clad in white was carrying a figure clad in black on his back, one arm holding onto him and the other pulling himself up the stairs. His legs seemed to have succumbed to fatigue, resorting him to climb up each step with scraped hands.

Baoshan Sanren narrowed her gaze as the figure made it to the top, “Xiao Xingchen, I told you never to return to the mountain, and on top of that, you bring a stranger here.”

Xiao Xingchen looked up at her with an unseen fury in his eyes, gritting his teeth, “Forgive me, master, but I come here for an audacious request.”

Baoshan Sanren looked at the audacious request, noting the pitch black sword strapped to his back and a frazzled horsetail whip that had seen better days. Blood was streaming down from his eyes, and his face was contorted into all sorts of expressions—pain, discomfort, frustration, and anger.

But most of all, youth. The will to keep going for whatever reason. Something she subconsciously chased, but something very far from her reach and unattainable now.

She took a deep breath, taking in the smell of morning dew.

“Very well.”

Jiang Cheng stared at the edict unfurled on his desk. A few years old, he was allowed to keep the scroll—a certificate of sorts, a document of proof.

Jiang Cheng pinched his nose bridge before he put the scroll up, running his thumb across the texture of the scroll cap.

Director of War and Sect Leader of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect. How funny. It seemed that his full title just kept. Getting. Longer.

An eunuch entered, “His Highness Lord Lian has arrived!”

Jiang Cheng stood up and dipped his head as Prince Jin Guangyao entered with a dimpled smile, “Director Jiang, I hope that I have not disturbed you.”

“Lord Lian,” Jiang Cheng raised his head, “what brings you here?”

The prince pursed his smile, “Your senior martial brother reappeared.”

To that, Jiang Cheng snapped up, momentarily forgetting all courtesy and respect, “What did you say?”

Prince Jin Guangyao sighed as he shook his head, “There was a disturbance in Jinlintai’s force field, one of demonic energy. And some time ago, a similar aura made a ruckus while my brother was escorting some generals to Jinlintai a while back.”

Jiang Cheng’s fist shook, “Demonic energy?”

“We have reason to believe that he has cultivated into demonic cultivation after his disappearance, using it to aid us in our Sunshot Campaign. A few of my men can testify that the actions of this background force are heavily aligned with the goals of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect.”

Jiang Cheng prickled.

“We weren’t able to locate him anymore, and it seemed that all traces of demonic energy were gone in the span of an incense stick burning.”

“A message to one of the people in Jinlintai?” Jiang Cheng muttered underneath his breath, “Not to me, or A-Jie?”

Prince Jin Guangyao shook his head again, “I’ve gone around to every residence in Jinlintai, and all have turned up negative. You are the last residence I’ve visited.”

Jiang Cheng released his fist and closed his eyes, “I see. Let me know if Your Highness sees him again.”

Zidian crackled arcs of purple lightning around his hand as Prince Jin Guangyao shuffled out with a cordial smile.

Wei Wuxian, for the most part, could not say he lived a healthy, happy life like his parents would’ve wanted.

Becoming an ordinary person, falling into the Burial Mounds, eating corpses to survive, constantly being haunted by the memories of the deceased—who could say they lived a happy life?

Because of that, he never went to visit his parents’ graves, if they were still there at all.

Knowing he’d have nothing good to say about the world, and thus nothing worthwhile for his parents to hear.

Besides Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli, whom he refused to see because of his sorry state, there was little light in his life.

Baoshan Sanren’s role in his life was more of a lantern lit when a siege was occurring in a city than a proper light—a symbol of emergency and warning but hardly welcome, and better off not being needed.

The previous Jiang heads were far from a light to him after the stunt they pulled, and although there was a sense of false filial piety towards them, he couldn’t bring himself to call them a light.

All of the Wens that fostered him after he escaped the Burial Mounds were likely all dead as well, either executed or perishing from illness.

Thus, coming down the mountain was useless for him. Why was it his job to help the remaining Lans take back the throne? Why him and not anyone else?!

“Baoshan Sanren, you hag!!” Wei Wuxian shook his fist in the air.

As he spoke, Lan Wangji rounded the corner and found Wei Wuxian drinking liquor on the veranda hallway floor.

Wei Wuxian looked up, “Ahh, Zhan-er! Come, come, drink with me…”

Wei Wuxian poured a bowl and pushed it towards him before taking a swig straight from the jug.

Lan Wangji ignored the bowl, instead standing before Wei Wuxian, “How do you plan on not getting caught?”

“Easy!” Wei Wuxian wagged a finger around him, “I’ve got a barrier put around me, courtesy of my former master, that allows me to reveal myself to anyone I want. Earlier, I marked your foreheads with an invisible marking, which is why the both of you can see and hear me. This also hides my belongings and magic, but not other items. So, if a servant were to walk by right now, he’d see a floating wine jar!”

Wei Wuxian laughed after his lengthy explanation, taking another swig before he looked up, “Speaking of foreheads, you Lans used to wear forehead ribbons, right? I imagine your parents passed that tradition onto you. How come you don’t have one on?”

“It would identify me, so I have it tied around my wrist.”

Wei Wuxian jumped up, “Wow, really?! I’ve never seen one before!” Excitedly, he grabbed Lan Wangji’s hand and ran his fingers up and down his forearm, “Where is it—“

Lan Wangji, earlobes thoroughly reddened, ripped his arm away, “Shameless!”

“Aiya, Zhan-er, I just want to take a look!”

“You cannot touch it.”

Wei Wuxian pursed his lips, “Aiya, okay okay. But, I want to see what you look like with it on!”

Lan Wangji did not budge, and after some time, Wei Wuxian took his hair down, extracting a red ribbon from it, “Then this’ll do!”

With the assistance of some magic, Wei Wuxian managed to quickly tie the red ribbon around Lan Wangji’s forehead while he was flustered with the previous exchange. Thus, while it was a bit lopsided, he had successfully tied it.

Wei Wuxian stepped back and grinned widely, “Wow! It really does seem to complete the look, doesn’t it? Though, the red doesn’t match the rest of your outfit, instead…”

Wei Wuxian smirked this time, innocently tilting his head, “It looks like you’re about to get married, Zhan-er!”

Lan Wangji could put up with most of Wei Wuxian’s antics, as he had done for the past few hours. However, this really seemed to get under his skin, as Lan Wangji immediately drew Bichen and put himself in an offensive position.

Wei Wuxian backed off, shielding himself with his flute, Chenqing, “Ahh, not again! Zhan-er, for being the rightful heir to the throne and a proper cultivator, you really have no hesitation beating me up!!”

Emperor Qingling, escorted by maids and eunuchs, walked through an orchard of pear blossoms. Branches barren from the onslaught of winter, there was nothing much to see.

The head eunuch leaned in, “Your Majesty, Her Majesty the Empress and Consort Meng are in the courtyard pavilion up ahead.”

Empress Jin and Consort Meng were playing chess in the pavilion. The roof and foliage surrounding the pavilion were covered in a thin layer of snow, with the eternal flowers in the bushes covered with a blanket of frost. Inside the pavilion, however, it was dry—untouched by nature’s chill.

When Emperor Qingling appeared, both women stood up and curtsied, greeting him as warmly as any other time.

“Your Majesty,” Empress Jin smiled amiably, “what brings you here?”

“Just a walk.”

Emperor Qingling glanced at the chess board, “Consort Meng, your chess skills have improved.”

Consort Meng dipped her head gracefully, “Thank you, Your Majesty, but it is Her Majesty’s accomplishment for teaching me so well.”

The empress widened her smile before looking at the emperor, “Your Majesty, she flatters me too much. I still have much to improve.”

Emperor Qingling grinned, showing his teeth, “Quite humble, Empress Jin. It’s been some time since I’ve last played chess.”

When he looked at Empress Jin, her eyes were filled with a sort of excitement, as if thinking ahead a few steps without speaking.

Lan Wangji once heard from his brother that Lans were notoriously obsessive. Either with a principle, an object, a place, or sometimes a person.

A person was the worst obsession, leading to a series of unfortunate events where the Lan in question often died with regrets and struggles, never once knowing peace after finding their destined person. They almost always died in seclusion, alone and in tears, never knowing if there was more in life to obsess over because to them, that person was the only thing in the universe that mattered.

“Zhan-er!”

Lan Wangji turned around, seeing Wei Wuxian on the rooftop of the former’s residence, “Get down from there.”

Wei Wuxian let out a loud sigh, “Zhan-er, the snow looks beautiful against the night sky, and it’s even better with a jug of alcohol. All I’m missing is companionship. Come up here instead!”

Wei Wuxian tilted his head after taking a swig of the liquor, watching as Lan Wangji floated to the peak of the rooftop. With Bichen tight in his hand, he approached Wei Wuxian, who was languidly sitting and looking up at the moon.

“Zhan-er, my former master once told me that everybody has two purposes in life.”

“Two?”

“Yep. Most only ever focus on one, failing to realize that there is a second purpose—so most live the rest of their lives lost, not knowing what to do.”

Lan Wangji kept quiet, still standing as the idle wind swept under his hair and through the folds of his robes.

Wei Wuxian kept talking, quieter now, “The first purpose is fulfilled at the peak of your life. It’s meant to serve the world.”

He hummed for a moment before continuing, “The second purpose is fulfilled later on, when you’ve aged and watched the world around you age as well. It’s meant to serve you, and only you.”

“Baoshan Sanren is one of the few still-living immortals in China. Her wisdom is just as myths say.”

“Zhan-er, your first purpose is to ascend to the throne.”

“Not my brother?”

“Either of you works. The first purpose is always due to change, but either way, your purpose is to become royalty, and mine is to escort you there.”

Lan Wangji lowered his eyelids in silence.

Wei Wuxian leaned backwards onto his elbows, “But your second purpose is something not as grand, but ten times as important. You normally only know it until your first purpose is complete, and it’s not some big declaration you make. You can only make guesses up until then, and once you realize it, you’ve already begun to accomplish it.”

Wei Wuxian looked up at Lan Wangji, “Zhan-er, she said that the first purpose is the hardest to attain, but simple. The second purpose is the easiest to attain, but a long-winded battle to figure yourself out first.”

There was an unspoken question that lingered between Wei Wuxian’s eyes, and Lan Wangji took careful notice of the strands of hair that fell onto his face and the curves of his cheekbones.

Lan Wangji looked away, “Lans are obsessive, motivated solely by that which they obsess over.”

“Are you saying that your second purpose is that obsession?”

Lan Wangji shook his head, “I do not know what my obsession is.”

“Really?” Wei Wuxian’s eyebrows lifted slightly, “Not the throne?”

“Boring.”

“Money?”

“Trivial.”

“Romance?”

Lan Wangji’s face shifted uncomfortably, “Frivolous. Not a priority.”

“A priority, huh.” Wei Wuxian stopped guessing, taking another sip of liquor, “So an obsession is a priority to you Lans. Something to live for, something to fight for, something to die for. How poetic! Hahaha…”

Lan Wangji noted that Wei Wuxian’s laughter was always laced with a hint of cynicism or untraceable pain, never solely genuine amusem*nt. There was an emptiness in the timbre of his voice, one that even persevered through his speech.

“Zhan-er.”

Lan Wangji stayed silent, only slightly turning his head towards Wei Wuxian.

“The Scroll of Guanyin isn’t really a scroll. It’s a little ball of spiritual energy that only contains a set amount of energy, like an inferior, stagnant golden core.”

Lan Wangji’s ears perked, and Wei Wuxian looked down with a smile, “My former master had the scroll for so long without revealing it because she couldn’t open it, nor could she attempt to open it. Opening it would dissolve the scroll, and my first purpose in life would then be severely shot.”

Lan Wangji bit the inside of his cheek, “Are you saying that the scroll is inside you?”

Wei Wuxian nodded, and Lan Wangji shifted his body to fully face him, “Then you…”

“Are you wondering how I can still cultivate?”

Lan Wangji did a singular nod, and Wei Wuxian laughed again—softer and more pained, “It’s right next to my core, of course.”

Lan Wangji squinted.

“Aiya, Zhan-er, don’t look at me like that.” Wei Wuxian sighed as he rolled his eyes, “I’m telling the truth. Anyhow, none of that is important. What’s important is that the scroll is inside me, just dormant.”

“How so?”

“My body is overflowing with yin energy after… after my time in the Burial Mounds. Using demonic cultivation directs that energy out and away from the scroll, whereas proper means of cultivation uses the scroll’s energy and causes it to decay.”

Lan Wangji’s eyes wavered, “Why not your golden core?”

Wei Wuxian hesitated, “The Scroll of Guanyin is a scroll ordained by the gods—naturally it is the superior type of energy. However, it is not a core—it cannot circulate spiritual energy. Because of this, cultivating properly will only drain it. And because of the Burial Mounds, my body is so full of yin energy that I need to release it somewhere.”

“No way to remove the yin energy artificially?”

“My former master is a woman that lives alone on a secluded mountain eons away from civilization—in order to remove the yin energy, one must funnel yang energy inside to replace it. Otherwise, the body collapses. She, as a woman, does not have that sort of energy, and thus cannot remove it.”

Wei Wuxian shifted to face Lan Wangji directly before standing up, wobbling a bit, “Hey, Zhan-er, I was told that those of Lan heritage were always overflowing with yang energy.”

Lan Wangji’s earlobes burned, “Ridiculous!”

“Zhan-er, what are you thinking?!” Wei Wuxian placed his hands on his hips, “Really, it’s like I asked you to dual-cultivate with me.”

Lan Wangji simmered, “Was that not what you were insinuating?”

“Was that really what you were thinking?” Wei Wuxian laughed behind his palm for a while, “Zhan-er, you’re really—! You always jump to the extreme! Hahaha…”

Lan Wangji bit the inside of his cheek, “Then how should I help?”

Wei Wuxian finished laughing, “Well, you weren’t entirely false—dual-cultivation is the easiest and fastest way to get rid of it, but simple things such as channeling your spiritual energy into me works as well, just as long as the yin energy gets expelled at the same time.”

“Expelled how?”

“I’ve brought a few vials with me to channel my energy into. We just cannot do it for too long or all at once, or the yin energy will backfire and could damage the scroll.” Wei Wuxian held up a finger, “Everyday, for as long as needed, let’s do the treatment. It shouldn’t take more than a month or two this way.”

Lan Wangji looked at Wei Wuxian’s finger before shifting his gaze to his face. The small smile on his face didn’t seem quite as empty as his laughter. Though there wasn’t much amusem*nt, there was a sense of satisfaction and even a bit of excitement.

“Mn.”

Lan Wangji liked that smile of his.

Chapter 3: faces, cracked and bleeding

Chapter Text

The treatment started that night, when Wei Wuxian sobered himself up and leapt down from the rooftop.

Wei Wuxian looked at Lan Wangji’s porcelain face, noting his long eyelashes and clear skin. He was quite beautiful, possibly rivaling the Four Most Handsome Men of China that lived now only in legends. Symmetrical and neatly-dressed, Lan Wangji seemed to be more like a statue than a man.

As Lan Wangji channeled yang energy into Wei Wuxian through his forehead, the latter felt that things weren’t going quite as he expected.

For one, the yang energy wasn’t overfilling him—instead it seemed to be dispersing. Perhaps the yin energy was consuming it before it could do much. Wei Wuxian urged for a stronger influx of yang energy, but his gut began to churn and he stopped it before the scroll’s integrity was shaken further.

Lan Wangji looked to be at a loss just like Wei Wuxian, “The mark that the Burial Mounds left must be rather potent.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes darted left and right, “Adding your brother’s energy into the mix is not good for my physical body, so we can’t push all of the energy in and out as we please…”

Suddenly, he had an idea, and began to undress.

“Wei Wuxian—!”

“Zhan-er, just stay with me.” Wei Wuxian fumbled with the sashes and ties, tossing articles of clothing onto the ground next to the bed, “Funnel the energy directly at the scroll.”

Lan Wangji seemed somewhat flustered, but nevertheless began to transfer yang energy into his gut area. Wei Wuxian felt a warmth in the pit of his stomach that he didn’t feel on his forehead, like a warm cup of tea sloshing around inside him.

“Zhan-er, stop for a moment.”

Lan Wangji dutifully drew the connection away, “What is it?”

“I think this is it. The issue with this form of treatment is that I cannot expel as much yin energy during it, so it may take a few more months than I hoped.”

Lan Wangji’s eyelashes fluttered, “So we should strengthen the scroll so that it will not dissolve once extracted, instead of replacing your yin energy.”

“Exactly.”

Lan Wangji seemed to pout when he turned away, pulling his sleeve back over his hand. Wei Wuxian leaned forward with an amused smile, “Zhan-er, are you disappointed?”

“For what? Nothing was lost, and information was gained.”

“You’re right, I suppose.” Wei Wuxian put a finger to his chin and looked up as if in thought, “But the way you’re looking right now, it’s like you’re confused about something.”

“If your body is prone to destroying this scroll, why did Baoshan Sanren entrust it with you?”

“She’s got no other disciples in the mountain with her that would have the guts to commit treason.” Wei Wuxian put on a cheeky smile, “What, are you sad she didn’t come down herself? She is quite pretty, but Zhan-er, I didn’t take you for that sort of person!”

Lan Wangji stared at Wei Wuxian for a moment, “Ridiculous.”

“So you are disappointed!” Wei Wuxian laughed in the silent gap before peering at Lan Wangji’s solemn face, “Zhan-er, what are you thinking about?”

Lan Wangji paused for a while before quietly replying, “If the scroll dissolves because we cannot extract your yin energy…”

Wei Wuxian exhaled sharply, “My former master told me that there were two ways to extract the scroll as it is now—either replace the yin energy energy in my body with yang energy, or weaken the yin energy so that it cannot harm the scroll upon extraction.”

“If we strengthen the yang energy then,” Lan Wangji offered, “it will have the same effect as the latter option?”

“Exactly.” Wei Wuxian held out a thumbs-up, “Zhan-er, you pick up on things quite well.”

Lan Wangji’s earlobes grew red again, “Stop calling me that.”

“You haven’t had an issue before?” Wei Wuxian leaned forward some more, “Then what about Wangji-xiong, or Ji-xiong? Or, what about Zhan-er-gege, or… Er-gege?”

Wei Wuxian purposefully said “Er-gege” with a certain, slow lilt to tease Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji, highly embarrassed, shot up from the chair, “Shameless!”

“Zhan-er, you leave me such little choice! Calling you by your pseudonym and courtesy name is so distant, and you don’t like any names I call you!”

Lan Wangji drew his shoulders inward, looking somewhat conflicted before he closed his eyes, “Continue with the treatment.”

Wei Wuxian smiled again, “All right, Zhan-er-gege~”

“Shameless.”

“Zhan-er, can’t you learn other words besides ‘ridiculous’ and ‘shameless’?”

“Utterly shameless.”

Wei Wuxian groaned.

Lan Xichen didn’t remember much about his parents.

He only remembered that his mother wasn’t very happy, and neither was his father, but for very different reasons. His mother bore the weight of an entire dynasty, and his father bore the weight of himself.

Thus, it was impossible for them to be happy in any world, and Lan Xichen accepted that a long time ago.

“His Highness Lord Lian has arrived!”

Lan Xichen’s head shot up towards the door as he brought himself to a low bow, “Your Highness.”

Prince Jin Guangyao entered with a dimpled smile, “General, please rise.”

Lan Xichen lifted his head and mirrored the smile, “What brings you here, Your Highness?”

Prince Jin Guangyao looked around, “Where is your brother?”

Lan Xichen’s gaze flickered, “He was quite tired, and retired to his chambers for the night. Does Your Highness require him?”

The prince simply shook his head, “I was just curious. Normally the two of you are inseparable, so the sight of you alone is a rare one indeed.”

Lan Xichen bowed his head, “Your Highness is perceptive.”

“General,” Prince Jin Guangyao lowered his eyelids, “I visited last time about a demonic presence entering Jinlintai.”

“Yes? Has there been an update?”

He shook his head, “It is why I am here. I’d like to borrow a few troops from you to increase security around the palace, as well as a few of your special forces to track this entity down.”

Lan Xichen dropped his smile, “This is a rather sudden jump in magnitude, Your Highness.”

“The demonic presence has not left Jinlintai’s wards, meaning that it is still inside. For His Majesty’s safety, this is the least I can do.”

Lan Xichen’s eyes wavered before he gave a small smile, “Reallocating the proper troops will take some time. Please give me two days to relay some messages and move my men around.”

Prince Jin Guangyao did not say anything for a while, idly nodding and looking around for a moment before he responded, “All right. Send the troops to my residence once they are ready then. I will take my leave now.”

“Understood.” Lan Xichen bowed his head, and found that there was a slight, bitter unfairness in the way he presented himself.

Nevertheless, Prince Jin Guangyao was kind-hearted to him, so the feeling of unjustness was not present. However, it was simply repressed—still there, not as poisonous.

“Ah, General.” The prince turned his head to the side, not quite making eye contact with Lan Xichen but emulating it, “One more thing.”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“The matter of your parents’ graves.”

Lan Xichen faltered before exhaling in relief. He had been giving the prince a couple of false details about his parents to cover up his identity, but lately, the prince had taken it into earnest. Really, he felt somewhat bad for allowing Prince Jin Guangyao to chase thin air, but discouraging the search would prove somewhat suspicious—so Lan Xichen averted his gaze whenever the topic was brought up.

A matter or guilt, perhaps.

Lan Xichen smiled, “Has there been an update?”

The prince shook his head, “All dead ends.”

“Then please do not exhaust your energy on such a trivial matter, Your Highness.”

“That’s not it.”

Lan Xichen looked through his eyelashes, “Then…?”

The prince paused for a moment before fully turning his torso to face him, “General Yin, your backstory is so elusive. It’s so difficult to trace any information from you. Even public records with your name are scarce and lead nowhere.”

“Your Highness,” Lan Xichen replied quickly, “I’ve lived a simple life, cultivating in the countryside with my brother, only involving myself in public affairs when the cultivation world was thrown into trouble. Then, His Majesty appointed us into Jinlintai. I don’t even know where my parents’ corpses are. Your Highness, please do not expend energy to find them, I urge you.”

Prince Jin Guangyao’s dimples showed again as he smiled, “General, even if I cease to search for your parents’ grave, it will not cease this fatal curiosity I have.”

“Fatal curiosity?”

Prince Jin Guangyao was known for carrying an aura like jade—cool, pure, and auspicious. Benevolent to the weak and upright to the strong, never wavering in front of adversity and humble in achievement. The pinnacle of princely power, enough to rival Prince Jin Zixuan, Lord Chun.

Even so, his face was known to be bipolar—fluctuating between cold and warm—never allowing for a break. Some say that in times where he is not composed, he was like a dog, fervently sniffing out anything that piqued his curiosity and finding anything that his nose latched onto.

At this moment, Lan Xichen could not tell whether or not he was looking at the jade or the dog.

The prince gave a smile, one that Lan Xichen pinpointed as cold.

“General, the most interesting people are those who live as frugally as you do.”

By the time Wei Wuxian called it for the night and stated that the scroll could not take much more, it was already rather late into the night.

Lan Wangji withdrew his hand and severed the connection of spiritual energy, “Is there a way to expedite this process?”

Wei Wuxian looked at Lan Wangji, eyes half-lidded from exhaustion. Funneling out yin energy was no easy task, nevermind doing it in small increments to make sure it wouldn’t backfire.

Even so, looking at Lan Wangji was like a breath of fresh air. Elegant eyebrows, perfect facial harmony, skin like pure jade, and rosy lips. Such handsomeness was hard to come by—the type of handsomeness that could also be described as a sense of unparalleled beauty.

Wei Wuxian smirked, showing a few teeth, “Dual-cultivation!”

Lan Wangji’s handsome face turned sour, and Wei Wuxian threw his head back in laughter, “Look at you right now! I mentioned one thing, and you look like you want to kill me!”

As soon as Lan Wangji wrapped his hand around Bichen’s handle, a knock sounded at the door, “Wangji.”

Lan Wangji’s ears perked, “Brother.”

Lan Xichen walked in and dipped his head before looking directly at Wei Wuxian, “Young Master Wei.”

Wei Wuxian perked up this time, “Hm?”

“His Highness Lord Lian visited, wanting me to let him borrow some troops,” Lan Xichen paused for a moment, “because of a demonic presence that entered Jinlintai yet never left.”

Wei Wuxian tilted his head before a realization hit him, “Oh, that’s right. I entered a bit too early.”

Then, with a flick of the wrist, a red mist left his fingertips and zipped out of the Rimefrost Villa, whizzing past Lan Xichen’s cheek.

Lan Xichen flinched, “You…”

Wei Wuxian waved his hand, “Ah, don’t worry. I sent it out in the middle of an empty courtyard and made sure there was no trace of it.”

Lan Wangji seemed to have calmed down from his earlier rage, speaking quietly, “What did you…”

Wei Wuxian turned to face him, then back at Lan Xichen, “Ah, it seems that we were not on the same page—my apologies. You said they were trying to find a demonic presence that hadn’t left Jinlintai, right? So I sent one out—it should’ve broken through the wards. Hopefully then, they’ll be off your back, hm?”

Lan Xichen looked stunned, and Wei Wuxian leaned back onto his hands, “Is… there something I missed?”

To that, Lan Xichen seemed to snap back to reality, and he smiled, “Ah, no, I suppose you did solve the issue at hand…”

Wei Wuxian leapt up from the bed with a radiant smile, “Since that’s the case, now that my barrier had time to fully form even after breaking through the wards, I should be able to enter and leave without disturbing anyone.”

Lan Wangji stood up as well, “Wei Wuxian.”

Wei Wuxian turned around, “Ah?”

“My brother should know about the scroll.”

Wei Wuxian thought for a moment before looking at Lan Xichen, “Ah that’s right. Then, Zhan-er, I’ll entrust that to you!”

Without waiting for an answer, he swiftly left, bounding into the fresh open air.

“Director Nie.”

Nie Huaisang looked up and gave a cordial smile, “Lord Chun, was there more you wished to tell me?”

Prince Jin Zixuan’s face was rather cold—as the rumors told Nie Huaisang. Rarely was he warm, and he was so straightforward that it was hard to weasel one’s way out of anything he posited. Once he ordered something, it carried the weight of an imperial edict—characteristic of a prince coveting the throne.

Prince Jin Zixuan looked off to the side, only turning his head slightly in Nie Huaisang’s direction, “How has your brother been? Is he well in Qinghe?”

Nie Huaisang lowered his head with a smile, “He has been well. Although his temperament has been shaky due to Baxia’s influence, Your Highness’s supplements have been useful.”

“That’s good.” Prince Jin Zixuan looked around, “How has your promotion fared you?”

“It has been well.” Nie Huaisang dipped his head again, “I thank Your Highness for your kindness.”

The prince shook his head, “You shouldn’t. The logistics department is too low of a position for you and your clan. I’m afraid that if it weren’t your request to be stationed here, Nie Mingjue would chop this building into bits.”

Nie Huaisang laughed shallowly, “The logistics department is perfectly fine for me. Your Highness, I am not well-versed in swordplay, and my cultivation level is too low for a palace official. My only saving grace is an appreciation of arts and meticulous documentation, so logistics is right up my alley.”

Prince Jin Zixuan did not look satisfied, but nodded anyway, “Then I shall leave you to your work.”

The pair saluted, and once the prince left, Nie Huaisang dropped the empty smile.

Wei Wuxian once wielded a sword.

Not outstanding by any means in appearance beyond being wildly ordinary, and with a ridiculous name like Suibian meaning “whatever”, Wei Wuxian still missed that loyal sword of his.

But not long before his endeavor in the Burial Mounds, it was confiscated by the Wens of the Wen Dynasty, and he never saw it again. Even today, he could remember the way it felt in his hand—strong and sturdy with unwavering spiritual power coursing through its structure.

Wei Wuxian bit his tongue as he smiled. Suibian had seen everything in his youth—his victories and defeats, his highs and his lows. It was strange to not feel its spirit drumming in the palm of his hand.

Instead, the sword he held in his hand was cold, devoid of any spirit or any real power. It was a catalyst for demonic energy, much like his flute Chenqing. He found it embedded in the heart of a giant tortoise that he had slaughtered in a cave in the Burial Mounds, pulsing with demonic energy.

This sword was nameless to begin with, and never accepted a name even though Wei Wuxian threw numerous at it. There was nothing–-no spirit, no entity—to accept the name.

So one day, whilst drinking Gusu’s Emperor Smile on a mission, and reciting flowery poetry he had heard from the nearby brothel, he held the heavy sword up with one hand and declared it to be named Xuanwu, after the deity.

So that one day, this sword could save him like the warrior deity it was named after.

Naturally, Wei Wuxian had little reason to believe that a sword forged of pure iron could save him. There was no spirit to control the sword body, and thus it could not gallantly fly in the air from anywhere and save him like Suibian often would.

It was just a way to cope, and a reminder of the type of life he was anchored to.

Wei Wuxian heard footsteps echoing out into the nearby courtyard and quickly withdrew Xuanwu.

When he saw a cloud of white and light blue stand in the courtyard, illuminated by the morning light, Wei Wuxian stood up and smiled, “Zhan-er! You told your brother, right?”

Lan Wangji looked up at the rooftop and nodded, “Get down.”

Wei Wuxian laughed as he leapt down, crossing his arms with Chenqing in hand, “You’re no fun, Zhan-er. The rooftop is the best place to live! Closest to the sun and the sky, free from the burdens and worries of the mortal world. It’s why immortals choose to live in mountains—pretending they’re on a rooftop, basking in the sun and drinking good wine!”

Lan Wangji didn’t seem persuaded by the explanation, to which Wei Wuxian dropped his smile into a pout, “Look at you, never believing a word I say. What if I told you that even the likes of Baoshan Sanren likes to drink good wine, ah?”

Lan Wangji, upon hearing the famous name, finally looked Wei Wuxian in the eye, “Ridiculous.”

“Aiya, Zhan-er, who should you believe—you, who hasn’t met her, or me, who was her disciple?”

Lan Wangji prickled and sighed without saying anything.

Wei Wuxian took it as a victory, slinging an arm over Lan Wangji’s shoulders, “The morning sun is out—in days like these, having fun and training are the only two things one should be doing, not sulking like you are right now.”

Lan Wangji, however stinging Wei Wuxian’s words were, seemed unfazed and simply looked at Chenqing, which was being held by the hand slung over his shoulder, “Wei Wuxian, you were part of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, were you not?”

“Ah?” Wei Wuxian was startled by the sudden change in topic, “Yeah, yeah I was, what about it? Suddenly so curious about me now, hah?”

“The Yunmeng Jiang Sect cultivates with the sword.”

Wei Wuxian understood what he was getting at, and withdrew his arm, “Ah, you’re wondering why I’ve picked up musical cultivation?”

“Demonic cultivation,” Lan Wangji continued, “wears down your temperament and destroys your body.”

“Aiya, Zhan-er, don’t you think I’ve heard enough of it from others? We talked about this—cultivating properly will drain the scroll.”

But Lan Wangji looked determined to finish his point, looking at Wei Wuxian, “The scroll is stabilizing your body and golden core against the effects of demonic cultivation, but once it is removed, how can you be sure that you will live if the resentful energy backfires on you?”

Wei Wuxian grew quiet before catching his tongue between his teeth, “Ah, that. I can’t be sure—how’s that for an answer?”

Lan Wangji’s face soured, “You said everyone has two purposes. Your first is to reveal the Scroll of Guanyin—how can you fulfill your second if you’re dead?”

“Ah…” Wei Wuxian was at a loss for words, stumbling to catch words as they tumbled from his mouth, “For people like me, Zhan-er, one purpose is enough. I have enough trouble in my life to deal with two.”

“The second purpose is fulfilled after your first,” Lan Wangji parroted as he averted his gaze down, “when you’ve aged and watched the world around you age as well. It’s meant to serve you, and only you.”

In silence, he looked up, looking back up at Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian awkwardly fumbled for words again, “Zhan-er, ah, the sort of life I’ve lived… I’ve already aged, you know? Truthfully, I am rather sick of the world now, and it is sick of me. Therefore, I don’t have a second purpose, do I?”

“You said that Baoshan Sanren told you that everyone has two purposes in life. How can you say that you are the exception?”

“Even my former master only has one purpose in life—she said so herself!” Wei Wuxian grinned toothily, “So there can be exceptions. Zhan-er, really, you take things so literally. It was just a one-off thing, a little meaningless philosophical thought that isn’t law.”

But Lan Wangji was not swayed, instead looking away and walking out of the Rimefrost Villa. Before he left, however, he stopped in his step. Without making any attempt to look back, he spoke slowly.

“For those with only one life, it should not be carelessly thrown away for another.”

Chapter 4: the invisible poison of home

Chapter Text

Lan Wangji did not have a destination when he left the Rimefrost Villa, only wanting to get away from Wei Wuxian and his self-deprecating party.

Really, he found it ridiculous—utterly ridiculous.

Lan Wangji suffered day and night, both in the orphanage and in the cultivation world, covered in grime and dirt and blood just to preserve his own life. And here Wei Wuxian was touting his own principle about his life being a tool.

So to him, it was absurd that anyone would talk so carelessly about themselves. It was beyond the upright scope of humility.

In front of Lan Wangji, he saw a royal procession going in the opposite direction. So, he stepped off to the side into the grass and bowed, looking through his eyelashes to see exactly who he was greeting.

It was Prince Jin Zixuan, holding his sword Suihua between himself and Lan Wangji as he looked down at him.

“Ah, Second General Yin.”

“Your Highness.”

“I was just about to visit the Rimefrost Villa, but since you’re here, it’s more efficient for me to pass along a message to your brother.”

Lan Wangji straightened himself up as the prince continued, “My brother, Lord Lian, recently visited General Yin to inquire about a demonic presence entering Jinlintai, and requested that some troops be allocated to the investigation. However, it seems that the presence has left, and our men found nothing out of the order in the palace. Since Lord Lian is preoccupied at the moment, he asked me to tell General Yin that there is no longer a need to reallocate his troops.”

Lan Wangji dipped his head, “Yes, Your Highness.”

Prince Jin Zixuan smiled, “Wonderful. I trust that your relocation has been smooth?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good.”

Prince Jin Zixuan loved to strike up conversations with both Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen, regarding himself to be something of their savior, or a more personal higher-up simply for promoting them into Jinlintai. Truthfully however, Lan Wangji could only acknowledge the promotion and escort to Jinlintai, but there was nothing more that the prince did for them.

Thus, while Lan Xichen was polite enough to hold a meaningful chat with the prince, Lan Wangji had nothing in common with him to talk about—so their conversations ended up being rather dry and somewhat one-sided.

Prince Jin Zixuan left, as there was nothing more to talk about as usual, and Lan Wangji continued with his walk, breathing in the fresh smell of eternal peonies and fallen snow.

As he walked, he found Wei Wuxian languidly walking on the rooftops of the veranda hallways, smiling and laughing with a liquor jug in one hand and Chenqing in the other.

Baoshan Sanren really did live up to her name, allowing such a loud individual to go unnoticeable with whatever spell she gave him. Lan Wangji looked forward and away from Wei Wuxian, but Wei Wuxian leapt down with a wide smile, “You were about to tell me to get down, weren’t you?”

Lan Wangji ignored him, and Wei Wuxian’s mouth fell agape as he threw away the jug, “Ohh, that’s right, you can’t freely talk to me like this right now. That’s a shame, I should’ve asked my former master to give me a charm that allows for telepathy.”

Wei Wuxian’s silver eyes darted around for a moment before his smile immediately dropped. Lan Wangji caught the detail in his peripheral vision before looking in front of him, seeing Jiang Cheng standing before him.

He was clad in thick robes with a fur cloak around his shoulders, masking his silhouette and swaying in the slight wind. He did carry the aura of a sect leader, especially one that held great renown and reputation. To Lan Wangji’s memory, the Jiang Sect had undergone major changes and struggles under the Wen Dynasty, losing their former leader and madam as well as Wei Wuxian.

When the Jiang Sect was rebuilt, there was only Jiang Cheng and his older sister Jiang Yanli, who was set to wed Jin Zixuan in the coming months. Such a grand alliance between a powerful sect and the royal family was bound to be a matter of great joy—however, at the moment, Jiang Cheng looked disturbing and wholly unhappy.

Lan Wangji discreetly looked at Wei Wuxian, noticing how even his hair seemed to tremble looking at Jiang Cheng. His usual boisterous behavior had dissipated in the blink of an eye, and for a moment, Lan Wangji saw him as somewhat pitiful and complex.

Jiang Cheng dipped his head and put his fingertips together as he raised his arms into a salute, “Second General Yin.”

Lan Wangji snapped his gaze forward and mimicked the action, “Director Jiang.”

Jiang Cheng lowered his arms, “What brings you out, General?”

“Just a walk.”

Jiang Cheng nodded in acknowledgement before hesitating, “Second General Yin.”

Lan Wangji did not answer, but simply looked at Jiang Cheng, as if beckoning for him to continue.

“While I have you here, I have an audacious request.”

Lan Wangji nodded, beckoning further.

“If you see my senior brother Wei Wuxian anywhere, please send a letter to my Lakeside Manor.”

Lan Wangji nodded, expecting Jiang Cheng to walk away. However, the latter stayed for a moment before quietly asking, “Second General Yin, you reek of alcohol.”

Lan Wangji’s eyes widened and he shot Wei Wuxian a glance, to which the latter still seemed somewhat shocked and even panicked. Lan Wangji quickly came up with an excuse, “Officer Ruan just got promoted after the most recent battle, and so the men had some drinks in the barracks last night.”

“Really?” Jiang Cheng looked Lan Wangji up and down, “Second General Yin, so abstinent from all things alcohol, stayed long enough for the smell to seep in?”

Lan Wangji, knowing that the quick excuse was weak, did not answer.

“Nevermind it.” Jiang Cheng gripped his sword Sandu tighter, “Your men did well in the recent battle. His Majesty wishes to reward them once the logistics department finishes calculating the amount.”

Lan Wangji dipped his head, “Thank you for the praises.”

But Jiang Cheng did not reciprocate the empty gratitude, quickly brushing past Lan Wangji.

Wei Wuxian was still somewhat shaken up, letting out a long exhale as he collected himself, “Jiang Cheng… I always forget that he entered the palace.”

Lan Wangji kept his voice low and grew aware of his surroundings before he muttered, “Do you not wish to reunite with him?”

“What’s the use?” Wei Wuxian chuckled sadly, “I came down the mountain for one purpose. Whatever personal feelings I have are irrelevant.”

Wei Wuxian turned to face Lan Wangji, “Besides, it’s better that he keeps looking for me, and that we don’t ever meet. If he sees me as this righteous, missing older martial brother until the day he dies, then that’s for the better.”

Lan Wangji lowered his eyelids.

He couldn’t quite imagine Lan Xichen being in such a precarious situation that if he were to go into hiding, would not want to at least give Lan Wangji an update. After their mother and father’s deaths, it became more and more important for the two brothers to be dependent on one another in some capacity.

But he knew well not to insert his own experience and preconceptions into his judgment of others, and so turned his eyes away from Wei Wuxian.

“If you insist.”

Since the Sunshot Campaign, Jiang Cheng had always felt a sense of unease surrounding him.

Whether it was in the food he ate or the tea he drank, or perhaps the sand that filled the Jiang Sect dummies or the air he breathed atop the Lotus Pier’s lakes, he could never shake off that strange feeling he had during the entire war.

Where every dream was engulfed in flames and every nightmare involved the faces of both loved ones and enemies, he saw only destruction and demise in his future, and thus always had a cold sweat whenever he woke up.

He was scared to sleep, and spent many sleepless nights avoiding his brainspace and searching for Wei Wuxian, who after Jiang Cheng’s golden core was repaired, disappeared and never turned up.

Both the sect and imperial physicians called it a result of stress and past troubles, culminating into a nasty mix for his temperament. But for Jiang Cheng, it was a way for him to subconsciously cling onto the unresolved issues of the past.

With his Yunmeng Jiang pendant clasped in his palm, Jiang Cheng rubbed the jade part with his thumb in a self-soothing way.

Suddenly he stood up.

He was the Director of War. Such trivial sentiments were for those with enough idle time to waste, and he had far from any.

He grabbed Sandu from the sword stand next to his desk and left the Lakeside Manor.

The barracks were not far from his residence, only a few paths and turns away. The training grounds were the first thing he saw, then it was the living quarters before the armory.

As soon as Jiang Cheng stepped foot into the training area, the nearest soldier greeted him with a deep salute, “Director!”

Jiang Cheng looked at the soldier before giving a cordial smile, “Ah, Officer Ruan. Congratulations on your promotion.”

Officer Ruan grinned widely, and it reminded Jiang Cheng of Wei Wuxian’s signature smile. He dropped the smile, asking, “On the night of your promotion, did you and your men have some drinks?”

Officer Ruan faltered, reading Jiang Cheng’s face before proceeding cautiously, “... yes, but Director, you must understand, we got a bit excited, and there were still some men sober in case anything happened—”

“Was Second General Yin there as well?”

Officer Ruan was taken aback, answering cautiously once more, “Sec— Second General Yin?”

Jiang Cheng nodded, waiting for an answer.

Officer Ruan swayed left and right, “Second General Yin, he never drinks alcohol, never parties, rarely socializes with us—would someone in a high position and as busy as he is really stay back just for a measly promotion? Ahaha…”

He went on to ramble about Lan Wangji’s tendencies for a while, but it wasn’t of much use to Jiang Cheng. He had gotten what he wanted, and eventually backed away from the conversation and the barracks when he found an opening.

Lan Wangji. What a natural liar he turned out to be.

As he departed, Jiang Cheng caught a whiff of something familiar. However, there was an unpleasant tinge to it, like the familiar thing had been sullied or damaged in some irreparable way.

Looking around though, there was nothing but the walls of the palace and himself.

He rubbed his temples, declaring it to be a side effect of poor sleep.

Wei Wuxian always liked to jokingly tout that he was the grandmaster of demonic cultivation, sending out his various inventions down the mountain and pioneering this redirection of resentful energy. These inventions had spread out further than he expected, and the reputation of the newly-appeared Patriarch of Yiling had taken a nose-dive into infamy. Only a few tied his name to the title, but they were barely-substantiated.

He had grown a substantial following and the title of the Patriarch of Yiling—but was always elusive and never seen in public when his fame grew. Those devout followers of his, as criminal as they were, boasted about seeing him (a lie) and his glory (not so much of a lie). They would tell stories that painted him as this great progenitor of a new, unorthodox branch of cultivation.

There were even a few petitions and rallies to start up a brand new cultivation sect in Yiling and name it the Yiling Wei Sect. It would be the first school of cultivation in history that could openly cultivate in demonic arts, unlike Xue Chonghai’s school where his use of the Yin Iron was limited and elementary compared to what Wei Wuxian came up with on his own.

Of course, this new sect never happened, and eventually people had given up on trying to become an abhorred trailblazer in the cultivation world.

In reality, Wei Wuxian was not the first to dabble in these sorts of cultivation methods, and could not be considered a grandmaster by any means. Even Baoshan Sanren took him in, telling him that he reminded her too much of her late best friend Lan Yi—a former empress of the Lan Dynasty.

When he left the Burial Mounds, he had a mission. Although Xuanwu was a satisfactory source of Yin Iron—and by far the most superior—the reunion of the four pieces of Yin Iron would make it stronger.

Strength, that’s what he needed at that moment. Pure strength.

So, after crawling out of the Burial Mounds, he set off for Yin Iron, inquiring Xuanwu about it cautiously and visiting the locations that it pointed to.

Eventually, he came to realize that Xuanwu was actually communicating with him. Through some blood pact accidentally created when Wei Wuxian had cut himself on its blade, the sword had deemed Wei Wuxian its master.

With some strife and time, he figured out the four locations—the Lady Florist’s courtyard, the Yueyang Chang Sect, the Temple of the Dancing Fairy in Dafan Mountain, and finally, Gusu’s famous Cold Spring.

Lady Florist’s piece of Yin Iron was not difficult—a few terrible poems lured her out, and with the help of a few taunt talismans and movement aids, he had carefully undone the seal and snatched up the piece of Yin Iron from between the petals of a radiant blossom before swiftly retreating far away.

The piece of Yin Iron shattered into numerous pieces and crusted itself around Xuanwu’s hilt and blade, like rust on iron.

The Yueyang Chang Sect was easy to infiltrate, as most of its talented disciples had left on a night hunt. Although the seal was rather tricky, as there were multiple layered on top of each other in a haphazard manner, it was no match for Wei Wuxian in the end.

The Dancing Fairy’s heart was made of Yin Iron, and after some battling, prying it out was easy.

Lastly was Gusu’s Cold Spring, famous for being hidden away underground in a cave made of ice and never-freezing water. It was hard to find, but after some poking around, a force had dragged him underwater and down a series of caverns, tumbling him into a pond.

Inside, there was a pure white guqin sitting atop a block of snowy ice, with bright white rabbits hopping around it. The rabbits wore headbands with cloud patterns, and once Wei Wuxian had noticed it, a streak of bright, blue light whipped out at him, thrashing him into the back wall.

The onslaught never stopped, talismans flying through the air to block it and more and more wounds appearing on his body. Eventually, he had made his way to the guqin, where he painstakingly plucked a few notes.

With pure luck, he managed to pluck the right notes that indicated his name, and after noticing that the streaks of light did not shoot out at him any longer, he found a figure sitting on the opposite side, glaring at the bloodied hands sprawled on the guqin.

Wei Wuxian came to know her as Lan Yi, the first ruling Empress of China as her generation fostered no living sons that could take the throne. Through a series of painful conversations, Wei Wuxian learned that she was best friends with his grandmaster, Baoshan Sanren.

She, in turn, was surprised that she had taken in disciples, and that one of her disciple’s children was standing before her at this moment.

Later, Lan Yi talked of demonic cultivation, of her aspirations with Yin Iron, and warned against its usage. However, after she took out her piece of Yin Iron, she was distraught to see that not only had Wei Wuxian collected the other three pieces, but that he had also attained an unknown fifth piece.

Animosity grew between him and Lan Yi, and with a few tricks, he managed to suppress Lan Yi’s already-fading spiritual energy for just long enough to take her piece of Yin Iron.

Wei Wuxian expected the fourth piece to shatter and meld with Xuanwu, as the other pieces had. However, the shattered pieces had instead peeled themselves off the sword and melted into one another. The fourth piece had melted as well, and while the suppressing charms faded, neither party clashed in this moment.

The hot iron sizzled in the frigid air before it threw itself into the water of the cold pond. Before Wei Wuxian could do anything, Lan Yi sent out a few charms towards the black cloud of smog. But the water only grew darker and darker, and by the end of it, was nearly pitch black with resentful energy.

Lan Yi’s dissipating spiritual energy could only send out one more spell, so she used the remaining energy to seal the demonic energy into the cold pond.

As she did, an iron amulet shot out of the pond and floated in front of Wei Wuxian. It brimmed with repressed demonic energy, and with her dying breath, Lan Yi had sputtered, “The remaining resentful energy… lives in that… amulet…”

Her figure faded into nothing, and Wei Wuxian was left standing in the blackened pool with an amulet in hand— a potent source of demonic energy.

After months spent with the various Yin Iron pieces in his possession, the amulet had already considered him its master, communicating with him with various resentful screeches and cries for help.

Thus, he decided to name it the Yin Tiger Amulet, and with some rope, tied it to the end of Xuanwu’s handle.

Whenever it clacked against Xuanwu’s hilt, he was always reminded of Lan Yi and her endeavors with Yin Iron, how it backfired, how her story was told to him as a warning.

Even so, Wei Wuxian had no choice. With all of heaven and earth’s yin-infused metal in his hand, he could not simply throw it away. Not only was power difficult to relinquish, but it had morphed into his way of life.

He had accepted this fate of his and swam his way out of the cold pond, noticing how the water had gotten just a bit warmer.

As he tumbled his way out of the cave through a hidden exit, he found that there was nothing left in the world for him to go back to. He knew that reappearing at the Yunmeng Jiang Sect would draw Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli too much unneeded negative attention, for as long as the Burial Mounds made a mark on his body and soul, all would see him as a person seething with demonic energy.

There was no way for him to re-enter the cultivation world with any grand entrance, and so bit by bit, he pieced together that a Sunshot Campaign was being rallied against the Wen royalty.

Set upon a new goal, he unexpectedly found his way to the base of an ethereal mountain—seemingly untouched by man and brimming with spiritual energy. A voice called to him in his head, and that was how he came to meet Baoshan Sanren.

Wei Wuxian laughed as he drained the jug of its last drop of wine, “Baoshan Sanren, you must’ve been incensed to find that the mountain opened itself up to me!”

But no one answered in the afternoon glow of the Rimefrost Villa, and as Wei Wuxian grazed his fingers along the golden sheen that covered him, he finally remembered where he was.

He pouted as he lowered his arm, crushing the jug into dust before casting it off into the nearby bamboo forest.

He perked up as he flew down from the rooftop, “Zhan-er, you’re back!”

Lan Wangji faced Wei Wuxian, as if expecting further.

“Zhan-er,” Wei Wuxian gave an amiable smile, “Baoshan Sanren told me many stories about the Lan Dynasty. Let me tell you something—the Wen Dynasty can destroy all the books and witnesses they want to erase a dynasty, but immortals are persistent and talkative when drunk.”

Lan Wangji looked at him expectantly, and Wei Wuxian sensed a bit of curiosity in his eyes. He began to walk towards the central building of the Rimefrost Villa, an area to wait for visitors but to also discuss private matters.

He sat down on the nearest chair, looking at the unfinished chess game on the table in between his chair and the next, “The Lan Dynasty was short-lived, with only four generations of rulers. The first was Lan An, an emperor who carried himself like a monk. When his wife passed away, he gave up the throne to his son, who only raised one daughter—Lan Yi. After Lan Yi’s time was spent, the closest blood relative to take the throne was your father, Qingheng-jun—Lan Muchenhen.”

Lan Wangji perked up, and Wei Wuxian grinned, “I knew that would pique your interest. Zhan-er, Lan Wangji, Lan Zhan—you and your brother will be the fifth generation of Lan to ascend the throne. Pretty cool, ah?”

But Lan Wangji was not fazed by this status, and quietly asked, “My parents…”

“Your parents…” Wei Wuxian was quick to answer, “truthfully, Baoshan Sanren does not like to keep up with politics—too worldly for her—she would much rather keep up with history.”

Wei Wuxian paused for a moment, noting that Lan Wangji’s face held a tinge of disappointment.

“So unfortunately, history doesn’t tell me anything about your parents’ personalities, so I can only tell you that your father Lan Muchen and your mother Fang Chunhua emerged from the former Cloud Recesses after being hidden away for who-knows-how-long. They disappeared, never to be seen again.”

Lan Wangji lowered his eyelids, and Wei Wuxian quickly added, “Ah, don’t fret. Although Baoshan Sanren knows next to nothing about your parents, she knows quite a lot about Lan Yi since they were best friends—just like us, hm?”

Lan Wangji furrowed his brow, “Ridiculous.”

Wei Wuxian lowered his shoulders, “Do you want me to tell you or not?”

Lan Wangji stayed quiet, and Wei Wuxian’s smile returned, “Lan Yi was in the same generation as Wen Mao—who would later become the first emperor of the Wen Dynasty. It was she who advocated for the different sects. Up until then, there was only the Gusu Lan Sect in the Cloud Recesses—palace cultivators. She convinced Wen Mao to raise his own sect, with the hopes that the Cloud Recesses and the Wen Sect could exchange skills.

“She never thought that he would pick up on her interest in demonic cultivation, and even surpass her in power. With the help of raw resentful energy, Wen Mao overtook the Lan Dynasty while Lan Yi was being suppressed, taking advantage of the critical moment.”

Wei Wuxian shook his head, “It’s quite a shame. Helping another person, only to be backstabbed for power. I suppose you must know the rest—Acting Emperor Wen Ruohan fell to the current Jin Dynasty, who uprooted the entire political sphere and implemented a new system. Before, the emperor would’ve simply been referred to as Emperor Jin Guangshan, but with this new system, we must call him Emperor Qingling.”

Lan Wangji glared at Wei Wuxian, “You have the nerve to call His Majesty so casually?”

“Ah,” Wei Wuxian patted his mouth, “Emperor Qinglng, Emperor Qingling. I forgot that his birth name must not be uttered. But Zhan-er, even Baoshan Sanren dares to call him that—shall she be executed?”

“Do you compare yourself to an immortal now?”

“Ahh, I don’t dare!” Wei Wuxian waved his hands in front of him, “I’m just saying that people have uttered his birth name before, yet heaven has not come down to strike them for it.”

Before Lan Wangji could say anything, Wei Wuxian added:

“A name is just a name, Zhan-er, just like how you aren’t surnamed Yin.”

Chapter 5: stagnant pools and melodies

Chapter Text

Wei Wuxian hid a crucial piece of history from Lan Wangji because it never made it to the history books and was sort of a sore spot, and that was Yin Iron.

In one of many of Baoshan Sanren’s tangents, Wei Wuxian learned that Wen Mao and Lan Yi shared a generation with another figure in history—Xue Chonghai.

Xue Chonghai could be seen as the first to unite the four main pieces of Yin Iron, but the raw resentful energy was too great, and it eventually controlled him to his dying breath.

It was because of him and his elementary refinement of Yin Iron that the metal made its grand debut in the cultivation world. Although cultivators from all over coveted the material, those who held it in its hands for too long often met their fate—either from the Yin Iron controlling their spiritual cognition, or from others seeking to get ahold of a piece.

Wei Wuxian collecting all four known pieces of Yin Iron was, initially to him, a fluke. He had thought the planets aligned when Xuanwu directed him towards the pieces and granted him little to no resistance.

After some thought, however, he figured that it was because he had the central piece—the fifth piece that no one knew of. And with the unpublished demonic cultivation manual he found in a cave in the Burial Mounds, he thought himself to be rather lucky.

The Cold Spring had refined the molten Yin Iron into its amulet form, and while it still brimmed with potent demonic energy, it was much more manageable.

Anyhow, he never used Xuanwu nor the Yin Tiger Amulet after running into Baoshan Sanren, who gave him a newfound hope that he could lead himself back onto the orthodox path.

Because the mountain, not Baoshan Sanren, accepted Wei Wuxian, the immortal allowed him to descend the mountain whenever he pleased, and to return whenever he was ready to go back. She never took him in as her formal disciple, but after years of this funny ritual, Wei Wuxian called her “Master” and she never objected.

She even passed on a few of her skills down to him, giving them away as rewards for whatever minor thing he had done down the mountain.

Wei Wuxian liked to think that Baoshan Sanren, who had no spouse or offspring, thought of him as less than a son but more than a disciple. A ward perhaps, or a responsibility.

Nevertheless, she treated him well enough for him to regain his strength and temperament. So Wei Wuxian continued to descend the mountain and return to wherever she moved, and it became somewhat of a routine.

One of the Rimefrost Villa servants rushed into the hall and saluted, “Second General Yin, Director Jiang wishes to see you.”

Lan Wangji stood as Wei Wuxian did, the latter freezing, “Jiang Cheng?”

Lan Wangji nodded for the servant to let him in, and not long after, Jiang Cheng indeed entered, the fur cape billowing behind him. His face was grim and darkened as he walked in.

Lan Wangji saluted, “Director Jiang—”

“Second General Yin,” Jiang Cheng interrupted, “where’s my senior martial brother?”

Lan Wangji straightened up, “Not here.”

“You’re lying. I went to the barracks.”

Wei Wuxian’s gaze quivered as he approached Lan Wangji, “If it’s inevitable, I’ll reveal myself.”

Lan Wangji shot Wei Wuxian a glare, to which Jiang Cheng sneered, “What’s over there, Second General Yin? My senior martial brother? Bring him out!”

Lan Wangji closed his eyes, which aggravated Jiang Cheng more. Zidian crackled around his wrist, “Bring him out!!”

“Jiang Cheng!”

Wei Wuxian shouted with all his breath, two fingers pointed at Jiang Cheng’s forehead as he applied the charm.

Jiang Cheng held onto Suibian ever since Wei Wuxian disappeared, ever since the Jin Dynasty was established and the Wen Dynasty fell.

It was held in the Lotus Pier’s treasury up until Jiang Cheng was relocated to Jinlintai, where he then kept it in the Lakeside Manor with him. From dusk to dawn, he would see it as he signed documents and read manuals. Every other hour, he imagined it was Wei Wuxian.

”When you revive the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, you will be the leader, and I will be your subordinate!”

He held onto that sentiment more than he held onto Suibian.

Jiang Cheng stumbled backwards after seeing Wei Wuxian appear from thin air. He trembled as Sandu shook in his hand, “You…”

“Jiang Cheng, don’t raise your voice right now.” Wei Wuxian lowered his arm, “I can't risk being caught by anyone else.”

“Where have you been?” Jiang Cheng’s voice trembled as he stood his ground, “All these years, where have you been?”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes wavered, “I just got here not too long ago. It’s a long story… a long story…”

Jiang Cheng refused to take that for an answer, stepping forward and grabbing Wei Wuxian by the lapel, “I have all the time in the world to listen, so talk!”

Lan Wangji grabbed the wrist that held onto Wei Wuxian, and Jiang Cheng whipped his head towards him, “You let go of me!”

“Jiang Cheng!” Wei Wuxian snapped, redirecting his focus back onto him, “Look at me.”

Jiang Cheng looked, tears filling his waterline as he asked again, “Where have you been?”

He let go of Wei Wuxian and stumbled backwards, “Where have you been?”

When he looked up, he saw Wei Wuxian looking right at Lan Wangji, and a feeling of bitterness welled up in his chest.

Wei Wuxian then told him. Told him that while he was waiting for him at the teahouse in Yiling, the Wens had captured him and thrown him into the Burial Mounds. Told him that he escaped by the skin of his teeth and that Baoshan Sanren had found him, reluctantly taking him in.

Jiang Cheng felt a wave of chills run up his spine, “Baoshan Sanren…”

“She gave me a beating for letting you impersonate me.” Wei Wuxian waved his hands with a wince, “Don’t talk about it anymore. I can still feel it…”

Lan Wangji looked at Wei Wuxian for a moment, and the latter thought for a moment, “Jiang Cheng.”

“What?”

“Can you keep a secret for me?”

Jiang Cheng’s fist tightened as he looked at Lan Wangji, “Does this have to do with him?”

Wei Wuxian awkwardly laughed, “Can you keep a secret? You absolutely cannot tell anyone, under any circ*mstances.”

“Wei Wuxian, you’re starting to scare me.” Jiang Cheng paused for a moment, “What is it? Spit it out.”

“Jiang Cheng, promise me.”

“Okay, okay, I promise! What is it?!”

“Your General Yin, and this Second General Yin,” Wei Wuxian slowly spoke, “is actually surnamed Lan.”

Jiang Cheng furrowed his eyebrows, “That’s the secret? Impersonation?”

Wei Wuxian opened his mouth before sighing, “That’s right, Wen Mao burned everything.”

“What are you being so secretive about? Spit it out already!”

So once again, Wei Wuxian went on a long tangent about the Lans—how their entire lineage was exterminated and the survivors went into hiding. He told him about the Scroll of Guanyin and Baoshan Sanren’s mission for Wei Wuxian, why he descended the mountain this time.

“This is…” Jiang Cheng shook his head, “I’ve never heard of such a thing, so this is all...”

Jiang Cheng pursed his lips before looking directly at Wei Wuxian, “If you have the power to usurp the throne, why are you still here?”

“It’s complicated. The emperor could very well kill me, and Baoshan Sanren wouldn’t save me.”

Jiang Cheng leaned back, “So…”

He looked up at Lan Wangji, “You’re telling me that this guy is the future Imperial Brother? Second General Yin?”

After a small pause, “No, it should be Second General Lan.”

Lan Wangji finally spoke, “‘Second General Yin’ is fine. Better not make it a habit.”

Jiang Cheng took a deep breath before focusing back on Wei Wuxian, “Wei Wuxian, A-Jie has been worried sick wondering where you’ve been. She’s in the palace—come see her.”

Wei Wuxian straightened up, “A-Jie’s in Jinlintai?”

Jiang Cheng gave a firm nod, “She’s engaged to the crown prince, Lord Chun, but she’s staying with me in our palace residence.”

Wei Wuxian stood up, “Let’s go then, right now.”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes brightened, imagining Jiang Yanli’s face lighting up. Lately, she had been putting on an empty smile, and occasionally he would catch her praying for Wei Wuxian’s safety.

Jiang Cheng had been praying as well, unaware that Wei Wuxian was in Jinlintai all along.

Thinking about that—how he hadn’t visited until Jiang Cheng reached out first—his heart panged.

Wei Wuxian never forgot about Jiang Cheng, nor Jiang Yanli.

How could he? With every monster he slayed, he thought of fighting it alongside Jiang Cheng. With every disgusting corpse he ate, he wished it was Jiang Yanli’s lotus root and rib soup.

Every time he heard a dog bark in the mountain, he wished Jiang Cheng was there to scare it off. Every bland dish he ate, he wished Jiang Yanli was peeling lotus seeds for him.

He just never thought that with the Jin Dynasty established, that Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli would rise in rank so quickly and enter the palace. Seeing Jiang Cheng on the palace road, watching Lan Wangji refer to him as “Director”, seeing how well-dressed and healthy he looked—Wei Wuxian was both happy and conflicted.

He never thought about revealing his whereabouts to him until his mission was done. The more people that knew about his return—especially within the palace—the more dangerous it was for Wei Wuxian to be there. There were too many variables for him to handle, too many mouths for information to slip from. Baoshan Sanren taught him that, practically drilled it into him.

Even so, he wanted to kick himself. He should’ve gone to see Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli first, even if it meant that he would travel all the way to Yunmeng and learn that they were actually in Gusu.

As they approached the gates of the Lakeside Manor, Jiang Cheng called out, “A-Jie—!”

He interrupted himself, seeing a golden palanquin parked just outside. Wei Wuxian walked up to Jiang Cheng, “What is it? Who’s visiting?”

Jiang Cheng nearly turned his head before realizing that he wasn’t supposed to perceive Wei Wuxian. Keeping his head forward, he muttered underneath his breath to himself, “Lord Chun came to visit?”

Wei Wuxian’s ears perked as he entered through the gates with Jiang Cheng.

Sure enough, Prince Jin Zixuan was standing in the hall, talking to Jiang Yanli. The latter turned her head and smiled brightly, “A-Cheng, you’re back.”

Jiang Cheng quickly bowed, “Lord Chun.”

After the bow, he rushed to Jiang Yanli’s side, “Your Highness, were you looking for my sister?”

Prince Jin Zixuan gave a cordial smile, “Ah, yes. I was dropping off a few gifts for her—some new tonics and supplements that were recently shipped to Jinlintai.”

Jiang Yanli gracefully bowed her head, “Thank you again, Your Highness.”

The prince widened his smile, “I won’t take up anymore of your time then. Farewell, Director Jiang, Lady Jiang.”

After the salutes and bows, the prince had swiftly left like he was never here.

Wei Wuxian heard a few stories about the Jin princes in Gusu in the past few trips he took down the mountain.

Prince Jin Zixuan, Lord Chun, was the crown prince and the empress’s son—highly favored and regarded to be the most regal prince that came out of this generation. He was said to be the most generous, giving to the people and even participating in night hunts around Gusu and the neighboring cities.

Prince Jin Guangyao, Lord Lian, was his younger brother—also regarded to contain a righteous character and great intellect. While he did not participate in as many night hunts, he was responsible for mediating many civil disputes in Gusu and regulating the palace officials. He did not make many appearances in the neighboring cities, but his upright reputation spread all over.

The other princes—so numerous in number that Wei Wuxian couldn’t be bothered to remember—were minor princes that did not make any notable appearances. Wei Wuxian only heard of a few, forgetting their names.

In fact, now that he thought about it, Emperor Qingling married so many concubines that he was surprised to find out that only two were notable enough.

Prince Jin Zixuan was said to have a symmetrical face like jade, with the cool disposition of ice and the manners of a saint. Looking at him in person though, Wei Wuxian thought Lan Wangji was much more handsome. If he were to make more public appearances, surely he would trump Lord Chun.

Anyhow, that wasn’t important. Jiang Cheng waited until he heard the palanquin ride away before excitedly turning to Jiang Yanli, “A-Jie, I found Wei Wuxian.”

Jiang Yanli’s neutral face suddenly broke out into a grin, “A-Xian’s here?”

Jiang Cheng looked around before continuing, “Before I can reveal him, he made me promise not to tell anyone that he’s back. It’s a long story.”

Jiang Yanli nodded her head, “Okay, it’s a secret then.”

So Wei Wuxian applied the charm to her forehead and explained everything she needed to know—of course after many hugs and tears.

Jiang Yanli’s hugs were warm and floral, and Wei Wuxian missed it. He forgot how it felt to be hugged, and thought that it really was quite nice.

Jiang Yanli broke from the hug but held onto Wei Wuxian’s upper arms, “I was in a good mood today, so I made some lotus root and rib soup. It’s a good thing you came back—it must’ve been a sign!”

Wei Wuxian smiled, dimples showing, “Yes, Shi-jie, it’s a good thing. I will need to return to the Rimefrost Villa afterwards, but I’ll make sure to visit often.”

“You’re living there?” Jiang Cheng’s smile began to fade, “There’s an empty room for you to use here; we saved it for when you would return.”

Wei Wuxian put on a guilty face, “I have a lot of business to take care of with the Lans. Once my mission is over, I will surely stay with you guys.”

Jiang Cheng gave a small pout, and Wei Wuxian lightly punched his shoulder, “Aiya, it’s not like you’ll never see me again. I’ll still be in Jinlintai.”

Jiang Yanli emerged with a large porcelain pot, fragrant steam wafting out from the small pressure-releasing hole. Wei Wuxian dearly missed the smell, wishing it could create an incense powder that could smell exactly like it.

Just like his Hefeng Wine back in his teenage Yunmeng days, surely he could create a Lotus Root and Rib Soup incense.

Every flavorful sip of the soup brought back old memories of his days in the Lotus Pier. His first archery lesson, his first lotus seed, his first sword lesson, his first night hunt. As a thin film of oil covered his lips, the warm steam that cradled his face gave him an unfamiliar, but rather nice feeling.

“A-Xian,” Jiang Yanli smiled as she patted Wei Wuxian’s head, “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

His throat went tight as he struggled to hold back tears.

Lan Xichen often found that his relationship with Lan Wangji was more business-like than brotherly.

Of course, there were a few moments in the orphanage when Lan Wangji dropped his indifferent act and fiercely defended his brother in his own way (the cold shoulder and a death glare). But for the most part, ever since residing in the Frost-Laden Manor on the edge of Gusu, Lan Wangji was always unemotional and only talked to Lan Xichen about business-related things.

Because of this, Lan Xichen didn’t even know his favorite color, or favorite animal, or perhaps a few of his interests beyond war strategy and playing guqin.

He could guess, of course. Lan Wangji wore blue and white, and his room was full of blue and white accents—so he could deduce that blue and white were his favorite colors. Lan Xichen often caught Lan Wangji looking at the family of bunnies in the nearby bamboo forest—so he could deduce that he liked bunnies.

But as for interests, Lan Xichen was stumped. Strategizing, playing guqin, and maybe reading and studying. Perhaps some calligraphy. But Lan Xichen couldn’t be sure.

He wasn’t sure if Lan Wangji himself knew where his interests lay either.

On his way back to the Rimefrost Villa, he heard a small commotion up ahead, and lightly jogged to see what was happening.

What he saw was Prince Jin Guangyao coldly staring at a palace eunuch, the latter of whom was on his hands and knees, begging for mercy.

“Insulting consorts from the Inner Palace,” Prince Jin Guangyao lowly spoke, “is a crime second to treason.”

“Please forgive me, Lord Lian! Please, please…”

“Take him to the Discipline Hall.” The prince snapped his head to the side, “Make sure he confesses to the right crimes.”

The servant next to him bowed, “Yes, Your Highness.”

The eunuch on the ground was still thrashing and apologizing even while being dragged away. As they passed Lan Xichen, they did not bat an eye towards him.

When Lan Xichen slowly approached and saluted, Prince Jin Guangyao dropped the frown and brightly smiled, “General Yin.”

Lan Xichen straightened up, “Your Highness.”

Prince Jin Guangyao kept smiling, “How has your brother been?”

“He’s been well.”

“I’ve delivered a new shipment of war manuals from Dongying. I believe that if anyone would have the most use out of them, it would be you two.” Prince Jin Guangyao paused for a small moment before he continued, “Ah, and your brother also requested a few sleep aids, so I recommended and sent some Fleeting Reverie incense powder along with the books. He should have received them by now.”

Lan Xichen dipped his head, “Thank you, Your Highness.”

Prince Jin Guangyao closed his eyes, “General Yin.”

“Yes?”

The afternoon sun fell in an angle that just darkened Prince Jin Guangyao’s eyes as he continued, “The sun sets quite swiftly during this time of year. As documents pile up, I’m sure you will be rather occupied at home.”

Lan Xichen squinted slightly, reading in between the prince’s words before bidding him farewell.

In the Rimefrost Villa, Wei Wuxian was standing right in the middle of the courtyard, holding a plain-looking spiritual sword and looking at it somewhat longingly.

Lan Xichen put on a cordial smile and approached him, “Young Master Wei, if you stand in the middle like this, a visitor may run into you, and wonder why there is an invisible barrier.”

Wei Wuxian snapped his head up and awkwardly laughed, “Ah, General, you returned.”

Lan Xichen looked at the sword in Wei Wuxian’s hand, “Suibian?”

Wei Wuxian laughed again, “I threw out many names, and got so frustrated that I yelled out ‘Whatever!’ and it stuck. Don’t think too much of it, General.”

Lan Xichen watched Wei Wuxian store Suibian in his qiankun pouch, “Young Master Wei, do you not cultivate by sword?”

Wei Wuxian widened his eyes before exhaling sharply, “Ah, I find it inconvenient. Whenever I carry my sword, people always want to spar with me. Truthfully, I’d rather not.”

Lan Xichen opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Luckily, Lan Wangji emerged from the nearby hall with a few packets in hand, “Wei Ying. I’ve applied the Fleeting Reverie incense.”

Wei Wuxian sniffed the air, smelling the faint fragrance of lavender as he grinned, “Many thanks, Zhan-er!”

Lan Wangji let out a small huff before he walked away.

At night, just before Wei Wuxian’s nightly treatment, he found that the Yin Tiger Amulet was acting up.

It reeked of resentful energy and radiated a demonic warmth that could not be described as comforting, but rather stinging. Every move he wanted to make was coerced—wanting him to pick up Chenqing, wanting him to cast a spell to stir up the spirits, wanting him to cause a disturbance in the area.

But he knew that Jinlintai was no place for even an inkling of it, for as soon as a minute trace of demonic energy was detected in the palace, troves of soldiers would be at the Lans’ doorstep. A simple slip could ruin his whole mission, and after running, he would need to start all over again, hoping that one of the two Lans would foster a child worthy of the throne.

If they couldn’t, then the scroll would be for naught, and Wei Wuxian might as well consume it by cultivating with the sword for a few months.

For now, he sat cross-legged on his bed, doing breathing exercises as he repressed the provoked resentful energy.

The harder it was to repress, the more ragged his breath became. The first priority was to save the scroll from deterioration; the second priority was to not let resentful energy leak out of the bubble he created around himself.

The scroll shook in his gut as he struggled, and it wasn’t until he heard the faint sound of a guqin that it began to be easier to control.

A thick film of grime and sweat covered Wei Wuxian and stuck his clothes to his skin, but the hurdle had been overcome, and the downhill was effortless. Once he broke out of the spell, he took a few deep breaths before looking off to the side.

As usual, Lan Wangji was dressed in all white with hints of blue with a calm and composed manner, looking as handsome and otherworldly as usual. His fingertips were stained a subtle pinkish-red from the guqin strings, and his long eyelashes brushed his defined cheekbones as he opened his eyes.

“Wei Ying,” he called out softly.

Wei Wuxian pursed his lips, “Thank you, Zhan-er. I heard about the high-level Temperament Cleansing Song that only a few cultivators have mastered, and it is an honor to hear it in person.”

Lan Wangji focused his gaze up towards Wei Wuxian, and Wei Wuxian began to notice his golden eyes that pierced through him, and a cool disposition that chilled the air around him in a refreshing way.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji spoke quietly, so quietly that a cicada wingbeat could interrupt him, “please let me help you.”

Chapter 6: stalling a wince for a smile

Chapter Text

Wei Wuxian remembered the ending of the Sunshot Campaign at Nevernight, where after downing a few jars of Gusu’s Emperor Smile, he had skillfully infiltrated the battlefield and assisted in the background.

The most difficult part was hiding the flute music from his fellow cultivators, yet still making it pierce through the enemies and weaken their strength. It took a lot of concentration training from Baoshan Sanren as well as heightened awareness, but he had managed to stumble his way through it.

The second most difficult part was making sure none of the cultivators could sense something was off with the way the puppets acted: walking into their swords, suddenly losing the will to fight, or turning around to attack their fellow puppets.

So while a few cultivators had noticed that although no one on the battlefield was wielding an instrument of any kind, they hadn’t cared much for the scarce few notes they caught—dismissing it as nothing more than perhaps a hallucination from the adrenaline.

Of course, there were those suspicious moments where it seemed that a puppet would slip or make some mistake, and redirect their sword into the hearts of other puppets. However, Wei Wuxian chose not to implement this strategy on a large scale, and could only control a few puppets at a time. Therefore, the cultivators dismissed it as a fluke—a flaw in Wen Ruohan’s control of the Yin Iron.

Wen Ruohan was the only to notice his slipping hold on the puppets. However, the loss of genuine Yin Iron had left him in a corner, and so he could only mine unrefined, impure Yin Iron from the depths of the earth. He only thought of this slip as a flaw in the purity of this Yin Iron.

Naturally though, the former emperor did not want to take any as a “maybe” and went out himself to investigate. Before he could point out the perpetrator, however, a well-timed and well-aimed energy-infused sword pierced his heart.

The backfire of the demonic yin energy ravaged his body to shreds after the injury, and as he fell, the blood-stained face of the now-Prince Jin Guangyao appeared. His unexpected but welcome appearance in the battlefield took the spotlight away from whatever Wen Ruohan was searching for when he exposed himself to the daylight—exactly what Wei Wuxian needed.

With blood wildly pumping in his ears, he had made a successful infiltration, assist, and retreat. The streets heard nothing of his minor return to the cultivation world.

Afterwards, from the peak of the mountains, or from the streets of Yunmeng, he watched the cultivation world revolve without him.

Jiang Cheng became the youngest sect leader in history at just seventeen years old, rebuilding the Lotus Pier and gaining a full following of disciples. Prince Jin Guangyao became recognized as a legitimate son, going from a Meng Yao serving as a Nie Sect servant to a Jin Dynasty prince. Jiang Yanli became engaged to Prince Jin Zixuan based on a parental friendship, and thus moved her and Jiang Cheng to the newly-named Jinlintai.

Meanwhile, Wei Wuxian spent his days in the mountains either training or making medicine. What a dull life! He cursed underneath his breath as he grinded herbs while watching a concoction boil.

After the nightly treatment, Wei Wuxian felt much lighter than before. Lan Wangji allowed him to dress back up before speaking, “Wei Ying, how much progress has been made?”

Wei Wuxian quickly inspected the scroll, “Stable, but there’s still a long way to go. It looks like it will take months like this.”

Lan Wangji lowered his eyelids in acknowledgement, and Wei Wuxian pointed with a heartfelt smile, “I’ve got it! Right now, you’re thinking, ‘I wonder how to expedite this’, aren’t you?”

Lan Wangji looked rather shocked, but didn’t say a word. So, Wei Wuxian lowered his arm, “And that face says ‘Yes, how did you know?’ Hahaha…”

Lan Wangji stood up from the bedside and brushed the wrinkles out from his sleeves, “If there is nothing more to be said, I will retire now.”

“Zhan-er.”

Lan Wangji looked at Wei Wuxian from his standing position, and the latter could sense that he was not looking down on him. It was a refreshing feeling to be seen as an equal, with soft eyes and an understanding face.

“The Fleeting Reverie incense,” Wei Wuxian nodded towards the incense burner, “thank you.”

Lan Wangji gave a nod before turning around—one that Wei Wuxian translated to be a “you’re welcome.”

That night, the resentful energy that usually seeped into Wei Wuxian’s dreams were not present anymore.

In this dream, the air smelled of the lakes in Yunmeng. In his hands were a basket of lotus seed pods, and he was sitting in a swaying wooden boat. In front of him were Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng. In the other boat were other Jiang Sect disciples, splashing water with large smiles on their faces.

It lasted only for a few minutes, and he woke up to the morning birds chirping just outside the Rimefrost Villa.

Because it would be too suspicious for there to be a heater and incense burner active in an empty room, Wei Wuxian was given a spare bed in Lan Wangji’s chambers. So upon waking up, he saw that Lan Wangji was already out of his bed and had brought Wei Wuxian a platter of light breakfast food.

“Eat.”

Wei Wuxian chuckled as he looked at the food, “Every day, it’s always porridge and light vegetables. All bland with no spice. If this were the Lotus Pier, it’d be unacceptable.”

Lan Wangji paid him no attention and walked to the nearby desk. Summoning his guqin, he played the first few notes of the Temperament Cleansing Song.

Wei Wuxian sat up, poking at the porridge, “Zhan-er, my nightmare didn’t happen tonight, but my dream was quite short-lived.”

While playing, Lan Wangji responded, “The herb used in this incense powder allows you to have the most pleasant dream, but as a consequence, it does not last longer than it takes to burn a stick of incense.”

Wei Wuxian made an understanding sound before sighing, “The packet you dumped in was small. I suppose it’s an addictive drug.”

Lan Wangji gave a firm nod, and Wei Wuxian smiled, “Trying to get me hooked on something?”

“Only for today.”

“What’s the special occasion?”

“You’ve suffered a lot yesterday.” Lan Wangji packed up his guqin, “Nightmares weaken the temperament. This is the only way to induce good dreams, but it must be used sparingly.”

“Ah, so it’s part of the treatment?”

Lan Wangji gave a firm nod, and Wei Wuxian leaned back against the headboard, “Well done, Zhan-er. You’ve been doing research.”

Lan Wangji walked up to the bedside, “What about you?”

“Ah?”

“Research.”

“Ah,” Wei Wuxian smiled, “all I did in the mountains was research, Zhan-er. Cut me some slack, okay?”

“Alcohol will disturb your health.” Lan Wangji rattled off, “So will overeating. It’s bad enough that you cannot cultivate with the sword. Talismans and spells aren’t a proper form of cultivation.”

Wei Wuxian awkwardly laughed, “I know, I know, you’ve told me this before.”

“Beyond dual cultivation,” Lan Wangji asked, “is there another more efficient way to expel yin energy?”

“Zhan-er, part of my research was memorizing your Lan Dynasty’s three thousand and five hundred principles. One of them was ‘do not be impatient’, did you know that?”

“Not impatient.” Lan Wangji quickly rebuked, “Seeking efficiency.”

Wei Wuxian scoffed playfully. He remembered one of the principles to indeed be “one must take the most efficient path, as to avoid trouble.”

He twirled his flute, “If there were any faster way than this to expel yin energy that wasn’t dual cultivation, we would’ve been doing this. But since you should be saving yourself for your future wife, dual cultivation isn’t appropriate.”

Lan Wangji lowered his eyelids as Wei Wuxian continued, “Ah, speaking of which. As part of my duties to help you restore the Lan Dynasty, heirs are a must. Zhan-er, what type of woman does your brother like?”

Lan Wangji knitted his brows, and Wei Wuxian relented, “Ah, okay, okay, too personal, I get it. We’ll just find him a nice, suitable empress then. So what about you? Although your children may not necessarily be able to take the throne, it’s still good to have some imperial cousins to maintain stability in the court.”

Lan Wangji huffed, “Shameless.”

“Not shameless! Zhan-er, have you really not thought about romance?”

“Not a priority.”

“There you go with priorities again.” Wei Wuxian sighed, “Being as you are right now, I’d be surprised if any woman could stay with you. You’re as cool as jade and easily one of the most handsome bachelors in China, but you’re too cold and a stick in the mud!”

“A stick in the mud?”

“Yeah! Always with the rules. No alcohol, no overeating, all bland food, no loud sounds, no playing around—Zhan-er, are you allergic to fun?”

Lan Wangji did not answer, but Wei Wuxian continued rambling, “Every man has a type they like in women, so surely you have a type. What appeals to you, Zhan-er? Large chest, large rear, thin waist, a pretty face?”

Lan Wangji’s earlobes grew a nice shade of pink, “Shameless!”

“Ah, but pretty faces are subjective. Do you like thin lips? Rosy cheeks? Almond eyes? Or maybe you prefer strong women and muscles—”

All in a sudden, Lan Wangji lunged forward, capturing Wei Wuxian’s wrists in his hands and placing his knee in between his legs. He knocked him down on the bed in a flurry of blankets.

Now that Lan Wangji was inches away from his face, Wei Wuxian could see every detail. He could feel hot breath against his face and the way Lan Wangji’s hands tightened around his wrists, exerting an abnormal amount of strength. He could see his pupils dilating as his eyes shook with anger. The small wrinkles in his brow that trembled, the strands of hair that fell in between them.

Wei Wuxian didn’t fully process everything before Lan Wangji pushed himself off. With clenched fists, he quickly left the room without batting another glance at Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian was left stunned on the bed, clutching the blanket.

What was that? Sure, Wei Wuxian was intentionally teasing him, but it shouldn’t have been enough to warrant that kind of reaction!

He brushed it off as nothing too deep to think about. His wrists stung slightly, and as he rubbed them, he noticed a slight reddish tint where Lan Wangji had grabbed.

Wei Wuxian’s left eye twitched. Sure, he was provoking Lan Wangji, but to squeeze his wrists that hard? Who was it that was talking about preserving his health, huh?!

Wei Wuxian rested his face into a frown as he laid back down. However, he was restless, and got back up in a hurry.

Outside in the courtyard, there were only the villa servants. Neither brother could be seen from here.

Wei Wuxian hadn’t granted the servants the charm that allowed them to perceive him, and although he was tempted to mess with them, he knew that he shouldn’t do anything that could jeopardize the mission.

The mission, the mission, everything was about the mission.

Wei Wuxian rubbed his reddened wrists.

Was that for the mission? Of course not. Lan Wangji exercised restraint for the sake of the scroll, and still ended up creating a mark on Wei Wuxian’s wrists.

If this was restrained strength, what was his actual strength?

Wei Wuxian shuddered as he poked around in the next building.

This was Lan Xichen’s study, and sure enough, he found him with his xiao Liebing in one hand and a book in the other. When Wei Wuxian entered, Lan Xichen greeted him with a smile.

As he closed the doors, Lan Xichen placed a silencing barrier around the room before turning to Wei Wuxian, “What brings you here, Young Master Wei?”

Wei Wuxian was initially going to poke around and leave shortly after, but seeing that Lan Xichen had set up everything, he couldn’t bear to make him take it all down. So he quickly came up with a conversation starter, “Zhan-er, what kind of brother is he like?”

Lan Xichen raised his eyebrows, “Wangji? He’s my younger brother of course. Very capable and subtle.”

“‘Subtle’ is a word.” Wei Wuxian crossed his arms and scoffed, “It’s so hard to predict him.”

Lan Xichen smiled until his eyes became crescents, “Wangji has changed since you entered, Young Master Wei.”

Wei Wuxian uncrossed his arms and dropped his smirk, “What do you mean?”

“He used to be cold and did nothing but study in his room.” Lan Xichen shook his head, “But now I can see that there is light in his eyes after you arrived.”

Wei Wuxian tilted his head, “Really? That stick in the mud?”

Lan Xichen chuckled softly, “Wangji may come across as indifferent all the time, but living with him has told me that there’s more under the surface.”

Wei Wuxian awkwardly laughed, “General Yin, it’s not that it’s hard to look under the surface, it’s that Zhan-er refuses to let me look.”

“It will take some time, but Young Master Wei, I’ll leave you with a sentiment.”

“What is it?”

“You’ve only been here for a couple of days, yet Wangji made his first palace shipment request for your Fleeting Reverie incense powder, and has started learning new musical scores to aid your temperament. All for you.”

Wei Wuxian hitched his breath, “I think you misunderstand, General. He’s doing all that because it makes extracting the scroll easier. For generals like you, there is a difference between a strategy and genuine feeling.”

Lan Xichen pursed his lips into a smile, “Even so, Young Master Wei, can you tell the difference if the genuine feeling so happens to align with the strategy?”

Wei Wuxian had nothing to say afterwards. Not long after the last word was uttered, a knock echoed from the door, “Brother.”

“Wangji, come in.”

Lan Wangji entered and dutifully closed the door back behind him. Wei Wuxian noticed a thin film of sweat covering his face as well as the slight smell of dirt.

Lan Wangji saluted before holding out a few books, “I’m here to return the manuals to you.”

“Have you studied them well already?”

Lan Wangji gave a firm nod, and Wei Wuxian craned his head to read the titles, “Guide to Temperament, Martial Arts Enhancing Techniques…”

Lan Wangji shot Wei Wuxian a glance, but still allowed him to read the titles. When he stood back up, Lan Wangji handed the books over to Lan Xichen, who began shelving them.

Wei Wuxian walked to stand next to Lan Wangji, “Zhan-er, good job. Those books are full of information and are hard to digest. Looking at the condition of them, you must’ve read them quite fast.”

Lan Xichen finished shelving the books, “Wangji is diligent because of you, Young Master Wei—“

“Brother.” Lan Wangji interrupted too late.

Wei Wuxian let out a small “oh” with a smile, “Zhan-er, well done—“

Lan Wangji made a swift retreat before Wei Wuxian could finish his thought. Lan Xichen gave a small but hearty laugh, and Wei Wuxian huffed, “Look at your Lan Wangji, leaving while others are talking.”

“He is like that.” Lan Xichen closed his eyes, “Hard-headed and resolute.”

“Hey, General Yin.” Wei Wuxian switched topics, “He’s reading medical manuals?”

“Medical and war strategy manuals, yes.”

“I heard that Zhan-er’s troops were in a battle recently—what’s that about?”

“That? A little border skirmish.”

“Where? What for?”

“Young Master Wei,” Lan Xichen’s tone changed, “Matters of the scroll are delegated to you, but matters of war are delegated to us.”

Jiang Cheng was reviewing a few fighting positions before he heard a loud sound and a thud right behind him, startling him out of his focus.

“You—!”

“Ah!” Wei Wuxian began to admonish, “You and Shi-jie are the only ones that can see or perceive me. Do you want your servants seeing you yell at the air?”

Jiang Cheng flipped his sleeve before angrily leading him to the visitor hall, closing at the doors before turning on his heels to face him, “Every time you come back, do you always have to scare me?!”

“It’s no fun otherwise! Besides, ever since I disappeared, I bet you’ve been missing me. Are you gonna take this for granted now?”

“Wei Wuxian!”

“Ah, forget it now, don’t get too mad, or you’ll whip Zidian around so brutally that you’ll tear up your Lakeside Manor and swamp Huaisang with more work.”

Jiang Cheng clenched his fist for a moment before loosening it, “All right, spit it out. What do you want to ask?”

“Does everything I do involve asking you a question? Maybe I just wanted to see my younger martial brother!”

“Stop bluffing, Wei Wuxian. I know your body language.” Jiang Cheng sat down in the nearby chair, “Come on, ask.”

Wei Wuxian sat in the other chair, observing the unfinished chess game in the middle table, “You’re the Director of War, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“I heard Second General Yin’s troops just came back from a border skirmish. What’s that about?”

“A border skirmish? Who told you that?”

Wei Wuxian’s ears perked, “First General Yin, the older brother.”

Jiang Cheng averted his gaze down, “Naturally, both of them are very secretive about their accomplishments. They specifically requested the emperor to not hold them any banquets. I believe one of their personal principles includes humility.”

Wei Wuxian nodded slowly, “So what was it really? Some grand thing?”

“Wei Wuxian, you read too many stories.” Jiang Cheng huffed, “Although Wen Ruohan’s control of resentful energy had been dispersed with music, there’s still traces of his influence. There were reports from watchtowers near the edge of Gusu about hordes of puppets aimlessly killing the peripheral villages, so Second General Yin was dispatched to clean it up. Officer Ruan only received a promotion for his outstanding work in past missions as well as this one—not for any extraordinary thing.”

“Resentful energy? Did they report if it was the enhanced puppets or the first stage cultivators?”

Jiang Cheng knit his brows, “How do you know those details?”

Wei Wuxian seemed to stumble, “Ah, I forgot to tell you. I was helping out in the background—“

“In the background? Of the Sunshot Campaign?” Jiang Cheng looked down before he looked back up, “So it was you who was playing the flute?”

“Aiya, Jiang Cheng, that’s not point—“

“Wei Wuxian, you didn’t come to visit even once when you could’ve?”

Wei Wuxian lowered his shoulders, “Jiang Cheng, it’s not like I was completely free to do whatever I wanted. Baoshan Sanren placed so many restrictions on me and made it where I couldn’t break away from it. If I could visit, I would’ve, but I couldn’t.”

Jiang Cheng put on a hurt expression, his eyebrows scrunched together into wrinkles and his lips pursed and trembling. Wei Wuxian slapped a hand on his back, “Jiang Cheng, don’t look like that. It’s unbecoming of a director and sect leader.”

“Why do you care? Whatever I do with my face is my business.” Jiang Cheng exhaled sharply, “The puppets that the troops encountered were reported to be Wen citizens—neither cultivators nor transformed.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes wavered, “Wen Qing…”

Jiang Cheng’s breath hitched, “Do you think…”

Jiang Cheng paused for a moment before continuing, “I hadn’t heard from her in ages, so I assumed that she had either gone into hiding or died. I never thought… I wasn’t there…”

Then his face grew solemn, “Wei Wuxian, don’t bother with her. Whatever happened to her has happened already. No need to chase ghosts when you’ve got enough on your plate right now.”

“Jiang Cheng, she—“

“She what?”

Wei Wuxian coughed, “She was the only Wen to help us during Wen Ruohan’s reign, so naturally I’m concerned.”

Jiang Cheng’s shoulders sank, “Yes, but with our positions, we can’t afford to take risks like that because she’s a Wen.”

Wei Wuxian creased his eyebrows, hand tightening around the armrest.

“Jiang Cheng, where was the battlefield?”

“Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng was on the brink of a rage, “you can’t seriously be thinking about going?”

You’d go through such lengths for Wen Qing and Wen Ning, but not for the Lotus Pier?

Is what he wanted to say.

Jiang Cheng knew it was wrong to think that, but after hearing how Wei Wuxian had not even entertained the idea of visiting the Lotus Pier, he couldn’t help but feel indignant for both him and Jiang Yanli.

Jiang Cheng had spent restless nights sending out search parties, scouring the earth for him. Jiang Yanli had constantly gotten sick with worry.

And yet just from a speculation, Wei Wuxian was willing to set his mission aside for the Wens.

But Wei Wuxian shook his head, “I can’t… I can’t…”

In a twisted way, Jiang Cheng felt happy. His brother was staying in the palace. Jiang Yanli didn’t need to worry herself until she was sick.

Jiang Cheng relaxed, “About time you said something reasonable.”

Wei Wuxian laughed, a contagious laughter that made Jiang Cheng crack a smile.

Wei Wuxian stopped laughing but still grinned, looking around, “Ah, where’s Shi-jie? I haven’t seen or heard from her today.”

Jiang Cheng dropped his smile and looked away, “She’s with that peaco*ck Lord Chun.”

“‘Peaco*ck’?” Wei Wuxian scoffed with a smile, “Jiang Cheng, you have the nerve to sh*ttalk the crown prince now?!”

“Am I wrong?” Jiang Cheng sulked, “You remember how he was before he was prince. And get this, I don’t know if you ever heard, but he even insulted A-Jie during the Sunshot Campaign, telling her she was taking advantage of the weak and had no dignity! Under A-Jie’s request, Lord Chun’s maid had been bringing her soup to his tent the entire time, but that Lord Chun started running his mouth when he caught A-Jie with the soup, not letting her explain herself!”

“What?!” Wei Wuxian stood up in a rage, “That— That Jin Zixuan?!”

Jiang Cheng didn’t seem to mind the treasonous name drop, and shook his head, “After the Sunshot Campaign had ended, His Majesty was pressuring her to marry him. She declined, saying that we needed to rebuild the Lotus Pier before she could think of such things, but then later on, A-Jie told me she still liked him!”

Wei Wuxian bristled, “When you told me they were going to get married, I thought he had cleaned his act up. I never thought…”

Wei Wuxian clenched his eyes shut, “I’m going to leave now. Thanks for all the information, Jiang Cheng. I really appreciate it.”

Jiang Cheng stood up, “Where are you going?”

“The bamboo forest, to cool down.”

Chapter 7: trading laughter for liquor

Chapter Text

Lan Wangji rarely got angry, much less at himself.

He had always devoted himself to his personal principles, living a simple lifestyle. Being general did not suit him, but since it was an imperial edict, he had no choice but to accept it.

If he had his way, he would simply be a cultivator that did night hunts wherever Gusu needed him.

Of course, life had other plans for him.

With one swipe of Bichen, he bisected a row of bamboo trees, watching them crash down in a flurry of dust. He carved ditches in the ground, taking his anger out on the world.

He remembered seeing strands of his own hair resting on Wei Wuxian’s face, how his shadow completely enveloped him. He remembered how his fingers completely wrapped around the other’s wrists, how easy it was to push him down.

He remembered thinking that Wei Wuxian’s lips looked rather pink and healthy, and how the scars on his face weren’t unsightly, but somewhat beautiful—

Shameless! Utterly shameless!

Those words encircled his burning mind as he shook his head free from the thoughts.

“Zhan-er, is that you?”

Lan Wangji bristled as he redirected Bichen towards the sound. Wei Wuxian, startled by the sudden attack, blocked with Chenqing. The two began to spar, with Lan Wangji exerting more force than necessary.

“Zhan-er—Lan Wangji, calm down, it’s me, Wei Wuxian!”

The sound of his name only fueled his anger.

The dust picked up around them as they fought. Occasionally, Lan Wangji would swing Bichen too hard, sticking it into the nearby bamboo tree. This only gave Wei Wuxian about a split second more to reorient himself, as Lan Wangji would quickly rip it out and continue.

It always seemed that Wei Wuxian was a step ahead, but he never made any offensive moves. Whenever Lan Wangji swiped at his legs, he would leap up high into the air. Whenever Bichen made a slash, Wei Wuxian would fly backwards with Chenqing in between them.

Eventually, Lan Wangji sheathed Bichen, watching Wei Wuxian stumble backwards. Wei Wuxian struggled to catch his breath as Lan Wangji approached.

When he did, Wei Wuxian held out Chenqing once more, “Aiya, Zhan-er, it’s me, give me a break!”

Lan Wangji quickly scanned him for injuries, “Your stamina is not good, nor is your spiritual flow.”

Wei Wuxian straightened up and seemed quite tense, “How would you know?”

“I had heard that we should be equals.” Lan Wangji looked to the side, “Yet you’re breathless from a few moves.”

Wei Wuxian’s shoulders sank, “Give me a break, Zhan-er. You’re the Second General Yin of Jinlintai, and I’m some senior disciple of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect. We cannot be equal.”

Lan Wangji’s eyelids lowered as Wei Wuxian looked around in awe, “Zhan-er, if I had interrupted you a second later, you would’ve leveled the entire forest! What on earth has gotten you so worked up?”

Lan Wangji squinted before he let out a small “hmph” and began to walk back to the Rimefrost Villa.

Wei Wuxian tagged along with a skip and a bound, “Zhan-er, tell meee.”

“Just practicing.”

“Liar! You should’ve seen yourself earlier. If you hadn’t done the Soul-Calming Ceremony before entering the palace, I would’ve thought you had turned into a ferocious ghost!”

Lan Wangji pursed his lips before swiftly turning on his heels to look directly at Wei Wuxian, “Earlier you…”

Lan Wangji’s eyes shook as he turned back around and kept walking. However, Wei Wuxian caught up, “I what? Zhan-er, you can’t keep on not finishing your sentences—“

As he spoke, Lan Wangji turned around and landed a hand on Wei Wuxian’s chest, imbuing only a small amount of spiritual energy into the push. It wasn’t a particularly hard attack by any means.

However, Wei Wuxian was seemingly launched backwards, landing on the grass. Lan Wangji froze, not expecting this outcome, and simply watched Wei Wuxian tumble his way back up to his feet.

“Zhan-er, I know you don’t like me very much, but do you have to hit me that hard?!”

Lan Wangji looked down at his hand and then back up at Wei Wuxian.

“Wei Ying, I didn’t hit you that hard.”

Wei Wuxian awkwardly laughed, “Zhan-er, remember. My body is quite fragile. Implanting the scroll isn’t some minor thing.”

“Does your golden core not regulate your spiritual energy?”

“It does!” Wei Wuxian quickly shouted, “It does, I just… I had a few drinks earlier, so I’m not quite myself. Don’t worry about it, okay? The scroll is perfectly fine.”

Lan Wangji didn’t believe him, but he saw how defensive Wei Wuxian was and didn’t want to press any further.

That night, as Lan Wangji was channeling energy into the scroll, he posited, “Wei Ying, if your golden core is weakened…”

“Zhan-er, forget about earlier.” Wei Wuxian coldly replied, “My golden core is fine. Don’t you dare touch it.”

Lan Wangji lowered his eyelids, “Wei Ying.”

“What?”

“I learned a new musical score—‘Purification’. It is the highest level tune in the Cleansing scorebook.”

Wei Wuxian nodded as he continued to siphon out yin energy, “I’m sure Hanguang-jun will be able to play it well.”

Lan Wangji picked his head up, “What did you call me?”

“‘Hanguang-jun’? Ah, I poked around the Blooming Garden a bit earlier. Found an imperial edict that’s set to be sent out soon to grant you and your brother titles. You will be named ‘Hanguang-jun’, and your brother ‘Zewu-jun’.”

Lan Wangji huffed slightly, “What for?”

“Dunno. The emperor hadn’t finished that part of the decree.”

Lan Wangji looked away, “Your golden core.”

Wei Wuxian grew exasperated, “I already told you to leave it alone.”

“There should be a way to isolate your spiritual energy.” Lan Wangji closed his eyes, “Draw power from your golden core, without damaging the scroll. Demonic cultivation aggravates the temperament.”

“Lan Wangji,” Wei Wuxian was resolute, “leave it alone.”

“Why do you not carry your sword?”

“I don’t want to.” Wei Wuxian answered curtly, “Sword cultivation doesn’t suit me.”

“I heard Director Jiang praising your sword skills.”

“Jiang Cheng runs his mouth about things that aren’t true.” Wei Wuxian gave an awkward laugh, “Don’t pay him any mind. Just focus.”

Lan Wangji opened his eyelids halfway, “Wei Ying, how do you plan on extracting the scroll?”

Wei Wuxian sighed, “How else? Cut me open and then take it out, naturally.”

Lan Wangji bristled, “Careless.”

“Of course I’m careless.” Wei Wuxian’s shoulders shook as he laughed softly, “When you live a life like mine, there are times where you cannot be careless. So, when you get the chance to be careless, you take it.”

The air hung in silence for a moment. Lan Wangji took a deep breath, “If you are in pain, won’t the state of the scroll be affected?”

“Not necessarily. I do know, however, that I must be awake. Anesthetics will weaken the stability of it.”

“Then you…”

“Stop worrying about these things. When the day comes, all we need is a physician willing to help us.”

Lan Wangji thought for a moment, “Physician Yi is the head imperial physician. Under him are Physician Qin and Physician Ouyang.”

But Wei Wuxian shook his head, “All imperial physicians will be loyal to the emperor. Cutting my body up is an easy task, but not separating the spiritual veins that connect the scroll to my body. Separating the spiritual veins is tricky, and there is no beneficial use for it. If an imperial physician somehow manages to have the gall to go against the emperor and assist us, it’s very unlikely that they would have the skills necessary for the operation, nor the time to practice.”

Lan Wangji added, “Any physician that has the ability to sever spiritual veins with such precision would not be easy to find outside of the palace, and Baoshan Sanren would not be open to descending the mountain.”

“She wouldn’t.” Wei Wuxian laughed, “That hag can hide me from anyone I please, and let me teleport to wherever I wish, but she won’t even spare me the resources to do the most important thing in this mission.”

Wei Wuxian contemplated for a while, “Unless she has confidence that I can find a skilled physician on my own.”

Lan Wangji prodded, “Do you personally know of a physician?”

Wei Wuxian seemed to hesitate before answering, “Yes. I saved her brother once.”

“What is her name?”

“Wen Qing.”

Lan Wangji straightened his back, “Her surname is Wen?”

“Mn.” Wei Wuxian confirmed, “She was related to the Wen royal family. During Wen Ruohan’s reign, she stepped down from her future position as Imperial Sister and asked to just be the head imperial physician. We ran into each other when I saved her brother, Wen Ning. Since then, we’ve had a few chance encounters.”

Lan Wangji’s eyes darted left and right, “Would you say that she is quite tanned, as if constantly in the sun?”

Wei Wuxian looked somewhat startled as the yin energy faltered for a bit, “Ah? Yeah, I suppose so. Why do you ask?”

“And she wears the red robes of the former Wen Dynasty palace officials,” Lan Wangji continued, “with black eyes and delicate features? A young lady of a small village of Wens; constantly asking for an ‘A-Ning’?”

Wei Wuxian trembled in his locked position, his yin energy wavering. Lan Wangji curtly told him to focus, and the stream stabilized.

After a few seconds, Lan Wangji softly concluded, “On the battlefield, there was only one person who was not a puppet—a woman who held a spiritual sword but did not wield it. Skilled in silver needles, and never gave us a name.”

Lan Wangji cut the connection as the treatment concluded, and Wei Wuxian quickly turned around, “Your troops ran into Wen Qing?”

“Because she was not a puppet, and she had not revealed herself to be a biological Wen, she was taken into Jinlintai alive and imprisoned in the Dragon Gate Prison.”

“Dragon Gate Prison” was a reference to the top of a legendary waterfall in Chinese mythology, where carps yearned to leap over it and become dragons.

Only a few were capable and brave enough to attempt it, as the downstream current was too strong for the average carp, and switching from a simple aquatic lifestyle to a mythical one in the air was too great of a change for others.

But for the few that managed to fight their way upstream and launch themselves over the top of the waterfall, the last anyone would see of them would be their mighty figures soaring into the air and never looking back.

This was the case for the Dragon Gate Prison—an indomitable fortress of a prison where only a few were brave enough to attempt escape, and those that succeeded would be remembered as a prodigy of sorts, never turning back.

As for Dragon Gates in waterfalls in the real world, Wen Qing remembered a few depictions and references—Dongying had one, and so did the Wei River.

Wei.

Wen Qing shook her head. In her situation, did she really have the room to think about other people?

She couldn’t find Wen Ning. The rest of the village died at the hands of the imperial army. For her, there was nothing left to live for beyond the ambiguous nature of Wen Ning’s disappearance—the hope that he was still alive somewhere in this world.

She rubbed her upper arms, cold hands numb against the goosebumps that littered her skin. She had changed her sitting position numerous times, and her legs now grew numb. She had caught a minor cold, but with all her needles and medicines gone, she couldn’t treat it. Thus, with time, it had evolved into something quite nasty.

After she had been found helping the remnants of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, Prince Wen Chao had captured her and thrown her into a cell with Wen Ning. When the Wen Dynasty fell, it was Jiang Cheng who saved her from entering the indoctrination camps, giving her a window of time and a cover to reunite with her village.

However, it didn’t take long for the newly-formed allies of the Jin Dynasty to round up all of the Wens, including those in peripheral villages that had no real political connection to the former Wen Dynasty. As long as they were surnamed Wen, the Jin Dynasty could not allow them to live. Wen Qing’s village was one of the last remaining groups of Wen, having gone into hiding and was untraceable.

Unexpectedly though, a blast of resentful energy spread across the village and made the villagers puppets, revealing their whereabouts. Only a few hours after the puppeteered villagers made attacks around Gusu, the imperial army had sent troops out to deal with the mess.

Wen Qing, having had enough spiritual energy to resist the blast, only suffered a few black vein lines on her neck. As she was conscious, the general clad in white granted her a sense of “mercy” and led her to Jinlintai for imprisonment.

Wen Qing drew her knees up to her chest and sniffled, smelling the stale air and rancid stench of rotten food.

She had not dared to eat much during her imprisonment, fasting for as long as she could until her spiritual energy was beginning to drain, eating the minimum amount, and then repeating the process.

As for sleeping, she rarely did that. Not just on purpose, but also that her rest could never be considered rest—moreso nights filled with discomfort and nightmares.

Her eyelids drooped as waves of fatigue washed over her. She had hit her head on the brick wall behind her numerous times from jolting up, the chains around her hands and ankles clattering as she shocked herself to alertness.

It couldn’t really be considered alertness, however. She was too lethargic to perceive anything that wasn’t very close to her, and had thus been further abused by guards thinking that she was ignoring them.

After days of living in the dark with only a few lit candles outside, her vision had become accustomed to it. So anytime a guard entered with a lantern, she was always blinded.

Such a life could only be described as pitiful.

Wen Qing faintly heard the door to her cell open, but there was no strength in her neck to lift her head up. She could only pretend to be a corpse, rotting on the back wall.

This time, there was no orange lantern to blind her. Instead, it was a faint, blue light that softly illuminated the room without piercing her eyes. From the corner of her eye, she could recognize it as a sword glare, but her mind was so muddled at this point that she couldn’t think of who it belonged to.

Then there was a warm feeling that seeped into her forehead, and she heard a voice not longer after.

“Wen Qing?”

Wen Qing’s ears twitched and idle tears collected at her waterline, threatening to spill over. She hadn’t heard her name being spoken in such a long time, having only heard herself be called a “Wen dog” or “scum of the earth.”

She struggled to pick her head up, noticing two figures: one clad in white, and the other clad in black like a shadow.

She recognized the person clad in white as the general that had pointed his sword at her neck, but did not cause her any direct harm.

The person in black, however, who had called out her name, was more familiar.

Wen Qing leaned her head back until it rested against the brick wall, “Wei… Wuxian…?”

She coughed, phlegm coating her raw throat and blood spilling from her lips as she struggled to talk, “You… why are you… here…”

Wei Wuxian didn’t answer her, instead turning to the person next to him, “Zhan-er, this is her.”

Lan Wangji gave a firm nod, and Wen Qing found herself being picked up. When her entire body jostled with the sudden change in position, pain wracked her entire being from the inside out. She heard her joints crackle and went into a coughing fit. The man in white applied a few spells to her to relieve the pain as well as a silencing barrier.

Wen Qing was still disoriented, and as the daylight flooded her vision, she could only clench her eyes shut.

Wei Wuxian hoped that the woman in the cell was Wen Qing because it would make his search for a skilled physician much easier as well as reconnect with the people that were closest to him.

However, seeing the state she was in, Wei Wuxian felt that he would feel better if it weren’t Wen Qing, and just some other unrelated woman who just so happened to look similar to her. But in the end, it was her, and Wei Wuxian could only shut his eyes and hope that none of her injuries were severe.

Back at the Rimefrost Villa, he was hesitant to ask for an imperial physician to treat her, as she wore the clothing of an imperial prisoner. Even if it were Lan Wangji who had brought her there, it was difficult to reason why he would be so eager to save a random prisoner.

Wei Wuxian sighed, “I know some basic medicinal skills. I can at least examine her, but if we need any medicines or poultices…”

He turned to face Lan Wangji with a small smile, “I’ll entrust that to you, okay?”

Lan Wangji quickly replied, “Mn.”

Wei Wuxian’s knowledge of medicine came from three sources: real-life application, Wen Qing’s books, and Baoshan Sanren.

Back when he was researching ways to grow Jiang Cheng’s core back, he had dedicated himself to reading hundreds of books. Without rest, he had meticulously gone through every scroll, book, and document—making notes as he went for things related to the core as well as practical treatments for common ailments.

Baoshan Sanren wasn’t as generous with her knowledge as Wen Qing was. He was forbidden to enter her library, and breaking in would be a futile attempt. It was only when Wei Wuxian would come back with an unknown injury that she would tell him how to treat it (throw him the needed supplies and have him figure it out himself).

Wei Wuxian prided himself on his extraordinary memory, finally having a use for it for someone else.

Wen Qing’s injuries were many but not too strange. They were the typical wounds a prisoner would receive from guards or punishments—whips, beatings, cuts. The worst part was that they had been infected and were heavily inflamed. On top of that, she seemed to have been suffering from a neglected cold. Although she was mostly lucid when she was still in the cell, it seemed that finally being in comfort had taken her into a coma. The good thing was that most of these could be treated by medicines already in the Rimefrost Villa or through time, as none of the injuries seemed to be curses.

With every injury that Wei Wuxian pointed out, Lan Wangji’s face grew darker and more solemn.

Finally, when Wei Wuxian was done observing her, Lan Wangji stood up promptly and began to leave.

Wei Wuxian turned around, “Zhan-er, where are you going?”

Lan Wangji answered grimly, “Dragon Gate Prison.”

“Why are you going back?”

“Unauthorized and excessive abuse of a prisoner. Punishment of up to two hundred whips.”

“Zhan-er, we snuck her out of the prison.” Wei Wuxian bit back, “If you go there and punish them, they’d know it was you who freed her.”

Lan Wangji did not seem to care and left swiftly.

Wei Wuxian entered the storage building of the Rimefrost Villa and collected a few pouches and bottles he needed. Lan Wangji brought in a basin of water and multiple towels before he left.

First he would need to clean her up, wiping down all of the blood, sweat, and grime. Keeping as respectful as possible, of course. Luckily, her undergarments were intact—otherwise Lan Wangji would have ordered a much harsher punishment.

Next was to disinfect the cuts and pack the deep wounds. The bruising would have to naturally go away, but Wei Wuxian fed her some medicines to promote blood flow and spiritual energy as well as cold reliefs.

When Wei Wuxian finished bandaging everything, Lan Wangji returned with a clean set of clothes. Wei Wuxian hadn’t thought of it, but now that he had, he did figure that the clothing in the Rimefrost Villa would be too large for her.

Setting the fresh set down on the nearby table, Wei Wuxian decided that he would let her change herself once she was awake. The only issue was that he had no idea how long it would take for her to get out of the coma.

When Wei Wuxian told Lan Wangji that he had finished treating all of Wen Qing’s wounds, Lan Wangji gave a firm nod, “One hour of muscle stimulation therapy alongside musical therapy; one hour of spiritual energy treatment.”

Wei Wuxian smiled, “The Rimefrost Villa is performing many treatments now.”

Lan Wangji had brought back Wen Qing’s spiritual sword and the needles and medicines she had on her body when she was captured, “It is unsafe for her to stay here.”

Wei Wuxian’s smile faltered, “Yes, yes it is. Zhan-er, is your Frost-Laden Manor a safe place for her to hide?”

Lan Wangji looked up, “How do you…”

Wei Wuxian blinked, “When I was looking for your whereabouts, I found that that address was under your brother’s pseudonym.”

Lan Wangji bristled, “What did you find there?”

“Why do you ask?” Wei Wuxian tilted his head to the side, “Nothing. I never went in, I just talked to the servant that came to greet me at the door, and they told me that you had moved to Jinlintai.”

Lan Wangji’s shoulders sank, as if in relief, and he gave a slow nod, “When she has recovered and woken up, we can hide her in the Frost-Laden Manor. The servants there all follow us. It will not be difficult.”

Wei Wuxian crossed his arms, “Zhan-er, how are you going to explain her absence from the Dragon Gate Prison?”

“Told the guards that I had ordered for her private execution.” Lan Wangji closed his eyes, “Then gave two hundred whip lashes per guard that was related to her cell.”

Wei Wuxian shivered, “Wow, Zhan-er, so scary. Two hundred? I’ll be surprised if they survive…”

“Not difficult. You reap what you sow.”

“Of course, of course.” Wei Wuxian pointed at him with a bent arm and smiled, “I’m glad to not be on the other end of your punishments.”

Lan Wangji opened his eyes to look at him, “The Rimefrost Villa forbids alcohol. Kneel for an hour.”

“Ah?”

Chapter 8: virtue, a trait served warm

Chapter Text

The next morning, when the imperial edict arrived to grant Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji the titles of “Zewu-jun” and “Hanguang-jun”—meaning “the generous, unsullied lord” and “the lord of virtuous character” respectively—the Rimefrost Villa was buzzing with praise.

The titles did not equate to promotions, but was the emperor’s way of acknowledging their past and current efforts as well as assigning them a personality that would make the history books.

Wei Wuxian grinned, “Zewu-jun, I finally have a name to call you that doesn’t require me to use your fake surname.”

Lan Xichen chuckled lightly, “Does this mean that you’ll be referring to Wangji as ‘Hanguang-jun’ now?”

Wei Wuxian contemplated the thought for a few seconds, “Mm, Zhan-er is ‘Zhan-er’. As virtuous as he is, everyone will be calling him that. I figure I should be closer to people my age.”

Lan Xichen smiled until his eyes were crescents, “Are you close with Wangji?”

Wei Wuxian was somewhat taken aback, and he replied carefully, “I suppose so. Taking my clothes off for the treatment helps, doesn’t it? Haha…”

It was said in a joking manner, but it seemed that Lan Xichen’s face became muted and not as bright. Before Wei Wuxian could ask, Lan Xichen popped his head up, “Young Master Wei, how is Lady Wen?”

Wei Wuxian dropped his smile and shook his head, “Zhan-er has been performing various pieces on his guqin for her, and it has helped with her stability—but she doesn’t seem to be showing any signs of waking up.”

Lan Xichen nodded, “Please let me know if I need to request anything from the palace.”

Wei Wuxian saluted and went to leave. Lately, Lan Xichen had been holing himself up in his office, reading various manuals with few breaks.

After Wei Wuxian cleaned up Wen Qing’s facial sweat and tidied up her blanket, he leapt outside for some fresh air.

“Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian turned with a grin, “Ah, there’s Hanguang-jun. I examined Wen Qing’s golden core earlier—it seemed to have strengthened and stabilized since you’ve been playing the guqin. I’m sorry for the trouble.”

Lan Wangji shook his head and changed the subject, “You once mentioned that the Lan Dynasty upheld three thousand and five hundred principles, and you had to memorize them.”

Wei Wuxian’s shoulders sagged, “Yeah, they only applied it to their royalty.”

He thought for a minute before he perked up, “Ah, Zhan-er, it can't be that you want to reinstate those once you become royalty?”

“Mn. It would be part of restoring the Lan Dynasty.”

“Zhan-er!” Wei Wuxian hissed, “When I say ‘restoring the Lan Dynasty’, I mean that you can do whatever you want, without needing to adhere to what your ancestors did! I don’t think you understand just how restricting it is—if you were to seriously live by all of the rules, you’d be better off just shaving your head and living as a monk!”

Lan Wangji dipped his head, “Please guide me.”

“Zhan-er, are you even listening to me?!”

Wei Wuxian was distraught reciting all three thousand and five hundred principles.

Ever since he descended the mountain, he had made it his goal to forget. However, Baoshan Sanren’s memorization techniques were powerful, and so while Wei Wuxian could force the memories out of him, they would always crop back up when needed.

So as Wei Wuxian fanned the fire for the medicine he was boiling for Wen Qing’s aggravated cold, Lan Wangji was dutifully copying down every principle.

Wei Wuxian must have boiled two batches of the medicine and ground up numerous poultices before he was even halfway done. But every time he looked over at Lan Wangji, he saw the delicate brushstrokes and upright posture, as if this long, unyielding task was nothing to him.

When Wei Wuxian was finally done reciting every principle, he leaned backwards with a groan, “Zhan-er, I don’t even think you’re human. First you want to restrict yourself to these silly rules, and next you copy all three thousand and five hundred without breaking a sweat!”

“Diligence is one of the virtues of an imperial general.”

“Aiya, okay, don’t talk about virtues or principles or rules to me anymore.” Wei Wuxian pouted as he bottled up the boiled medicine, “Not only will I need to find a beautiful wife that can stand up to your looks, I will also need to find one that can put up with all these restrictions!”

Wei Wuxian was quiet for a moment before a smirk grew on his face. He put another pot of herbs and water on the stove and refueled the fire with straw, “Or, maybe I should find a lovely lady that you will bend the rules for. How about that, Zhan-er?”

“Ridiculous.”

“Not ridiculous! Zhan-er, just look at all of those rules!” Wei Wuxian pointed with his fan at the book that Lan Wangji wrote the Lan principles in, “What normal person can manage to live their entire life without breaking at least one of those rules? I’d like to meet them!”

“Not hard.” Lan Wangji reached for a blank book, “Self-discipline is a virtue.”

“Aiya, stop talking like that.” Wei Wuxian shook his head, “Part of me helping you reinstate the Lan Dynasty is to find your brother a suitable empress. With all of these restrictions in place, who’s going to dare to marry into your family?”

Lan Wangji was quiet as he dipped his brush into the pool of ink. Wei Wuxian craned his neck, “What are you writing now? More rules?”

“Copying the principles.” Lan Wangji answered sharply, “Memorizing them will be needed.”

Wei Wuxian’s shoulders sagged, “Zhan-er, why are you so excited about having rules? I’ve never seen you more excited for anything since—”

Since that one time Lan Wangji had pinned him down on the bed.

Reddened, Wei Wuxian cut himself off and went back to silently fanning the fire.

The red marks on his wrists had faded, but every now and then, Wei Wuxian could feel the warmth of his hands around them, the softness of them despite him being a swordsman.

In between the beats of his fan, Wei Wuxian could hear the light brushstrokes that Lan Wangji made—the small sound made when the brush makes contact with the paper, the swirling ink, the flipping of pages.

When the last batch of medicine was done, Wei Wuxian stood up to stretch. He picked up a few bottles in between his fingers and waved at Lan Wangji, “I’ll be back in a bit, once I’ve given Wen Qing her medicine. Don’t miss me too much!”

Wei Wuxian laughed as he watched Lan Wangji glare at him.

Wen Qing was still in her prisoner rags. Wei Wuxian had taken off the more shredded robes, disposing of them. She hadn’t woken up yet, but her breathing was stronger as well as her pulse. She no longer sweated as much.

When Wei Wuxian carefully tipped the concoctions down her throat, he sat on the chair near the bedside to rest.

If Wei Wuxian had practiced needles, he could’ve performed acupuncture to assist her meridians with her spiritual energy flow, and maybe she would have woken up earlier.

He shook his head. Even if he were to start reading up now, he didn’t want to risk anything.

Wei Wuxian got up to leave, only to hear a faint, “A-Ning…”

He whirled around and quickly examined Wen Qing, but it seemed that she still wasn’t awake.

He shook his head once more. The fact that she was imagining Wen Ning meant that her brain function was safe, and there was progress. Wei Wuxian let out a sigh and sat back down.

“Wen Qing,” Wei Wuxian leaned forward slightly, keeping his voice low, “hurry and wake up. There’s so much to talk about.”

Wei Wuxian heard footsteps approaching from behind him, and he whirled around. With one hand outstretched, he wielded Chenqing in a defensive manner.

Lan Wangji, mostly unfazed, promptly halted in his step, “Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian’s gaze shook as he lowered Chenqing. He didn’t say anything.

Lan Wangji pressed, “Are you okay?”

Wei Wuxian nodded quickly, “It’s fine, I guess I’m just tired.”

Lan Wangji looked behind Wei Wuxian’s shoulder before focusing back onto him, “I can take care of her. Go rest.”

“Not in that way.” Wei Wuxian sighed, “You’re here to play music, right? I’ll monitor her health as you do.”

Lan Wangji parted his lips, as if he wanted to say something more, but nothing came out. He just pivoted on his heels and walked towards the desk, taking out his guqin as he sat down.

When the first few notes played, Wei Wuxian felt a wave of calmness wash over him.

While Lan Wangji was writing down the Lan principles, the one that stuck out the most to him was the fifty-second principle:

”Do not associate with evil.”

Evil.

Wei Wuxian practiced unorthodox cultivation, but Lan Wangji couldn’t, in good conscience, call him evil.

If that was the situation, what was black and what was white? What was good and evil? Where was that line between malice and helplessness?

When Wei Wuxian brandished Chenqing in a defensive manner, he wanted to ask him: “What happened that made you like this?”

Sure, Lan Wangji was aware that Wei Wuxian had emerged from the Burial Mounds, but for how long? Wei Wuxian’s answers varied, from weeks to months to years. After that, where had he gone? What had happened that found him there in the first place?

So many questions, but Lan Wangji could only bite back his intrusive words.

They were not that close. Sure, they were confidants, but Lan Wangji was convinced that their relationship was only like this because of the scroll.

Wei Wuxian had no choice.

So, Lan Wangji didn’t endeavor to make Wei Wuxian’s mission harder to achieve. Whatever he needed from the palace, Lan Wangji would retrieve it. Whoever he needed to rescue, Lan Wangji would rescue them. Whenever Wei Wuxian needed someone, Lan Wangji was there to listen.

All for the treasonous mission.

When Lan Wangji finished playing, he stilled the vibrating guqin strings with his palms and looked up, “Wei Ying.”

“Hm?”

“You knew Lady Wen before?”

Wei Wuxian averted his gaze down, “I did, briefly.”

Lan Wangji glanced at Wen Qing, who was still sleeping, “How are you certain that she won’t go against your mission?”

“Are you worried because you were the general that captured her?” Wei Wuxian gave a small, reassuring smile, “But you were also the general that saved her life. She’d understand.”

A weak voice, “Understand what?”

Lan Wangji’s gaze snapped back to Wen Qing. She sat up with a cough, her face pale as she turned to look at both Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, “You…”

Wei Wuxian stood up, “Wen Qing!”

“Where am I?” Wen Qing coughed again.

Wei Wuxian briefly explained the situation and his mission, and it seemed that any animosity Wen Qing held towards Lan Wangji had dissipated somewhat. However, she looked around, drawing the blanket closer to her, “I’m still in the palace?”

Lan Wangji approached the bedside with a nod, “Mn.”

Wen Qing shook her head as she looked up, “You…”

Wei Wuxian intervened quickly, “Once you’ve rested, we plan to move you out of the palace. Zhan-er has a place for you to stay.”

Wen Qing’s eye twitched, “Wei Wuxian, that’s… this is…”

Wei Wuxian threw his hands up, “It’s different! Wen Qing, please believe me.”

But Wen Qing shook her head as she coughed, “I have never had a patient die on my operating table, and I never will. You are not going to be the exception.”

“Wen Qing, you’re the only one I can trust with this.”

“Wei Wuxian, can’t you cherish your life?! Again, you— you—!”

Wen Qing balled up her fist and punched the bed weakly. As she did, blood spurted from her lips. Wei Wuxian quickly offered her a bowl to spit the remaining blood into as well as a towel.

Wen Qing cleared her throat and drank some water, gripping the cup as she pursed her lips. She seemed to bite the inside of her cheek as she whirled around, “Wei Wuxian, I can’t— I can’t guarantee success, nor your life.”

Lan Wangji asked, “What are the chances?”

Wen Qing stole a glance at Lan Wangji before glaring at Wei Wuxian, “Thirty percent.”

Wei Wuxian smiled, “Thirty percent is enough.”

Wen Qing was more riled up at that, “Wei Wuxian, you—!”

“Wen Qing!” Wei Wuxian shot back, “Please trust me. If I let this scroll stay inside me, it will wither away and disappear, and the Lans won’t have another chance to take back what’s theirs.”

“Why do you have to involve yourself with others’ situations?” Wen Qing’s voice cracked, “Time and time again, you… You just met Lan Wangji. Why is it that you have to sacrifice yourself just because Baoshan Sanren told you to?!”

“It’s not sacrificing myself.” Wei Wuxian replied, “Wen Qing, do you know who ordered for your entire village to be slaughtered? It wasn’t Lan Wangji, it was Emperor Qingling. Even if it wasn’t for Baoshan Sanren, I would’ve wanted China to be ruled by someone more compassionate, don’t you?”

At the reminder of Wen Qing’s village, Wen Qing’s shoulders sank, “So you’re doing all of this because you believe the Lans would be a better ruler?”

“Not just me, but Baoshan Sanren and even the gods.” Wei Wuxian patted his gut, where the scroll sat, “And the key is right here.”

“How do you plan on pulling this off?” Wen Qing co*cked her head to the side, “You are aware this is treason, right?”

“I know. I thought of that.” Wei Wuxian sighed, “But we can only work on things slowly. The first step was finding Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji—the second step was finding you.”

Wen Qing clenched her eyes shut, pursing her lips in frustration, “Thirty percent. I can only give you that without promise.”

“Thirty percent is fine,” Wei Wuxian repeated. “It’s much better odds than I was expecting.”

Wen Qing tightened her fist around the blanket in her hands, but said nothing.

Wen Qing changed into the new set of clothes—a simple set with white under-robes and light blue layers on top. She examined her own health, finding no issues, and retrieved her sword and medical supplies.

When she was ready to leave, she was fidgeting with a silver needle, and told Wei Wuxian, “Just know that I can needle you whenever I want.”

Wei Wuxian awkwardly laughed at that.

A palanquin sat outside the Rimefrost Villa. Wei Wuxian offered to escort her to the Frost-Laden Manor, but Lan Wangji quickly denied it.

“You cannot be perceived by others, nor do you have a passkey.”

Wei Wuxian couldn’t argue against him, and allowed Lan Wangji to depart with Wen Qing.

Nie Huaisang was bored.

So very bored.

The logistics department was meticulous but tedious. Although he could pour himself into the details, in the end, there wasn’t much to look forward to. It was a lot of reading, checking, reading again, answering letters, and more reading.

He wasn’t a sect leader, so it wasn’t like he had any sect work to do—besides, Qinghe was so far away from Gusu that it was impractical for him to regularly travel back and forth. Not that he would anyway, as there was also nothing to do over there.

And today, he had finished all his department work!

This was horrible. No amount of walks outside, or paintings drawn, or poetry written could cure his boredom right now. He had already spent enough money requesting snacks from the imperial kitchen.

“His Highness Lord Lian has arrived!”

Nie Huaisang groaned. Lately, many princes and other palace officials had been visiting the logistics department. Nearly every day. Nie Huaisang couldn’t go a day without seeing someone waltz into his Dirt-Strewn Fortress.

And even when they were visiting, he was still bored! Talking purely about business!

Prince Jin Guangyao entered, and Nie Huaisang tiredly saluted him, “What brings Your Highness here?”

“I wish to request a shipment.”

Great. More business. Nie Huaisang peered at the prince’s face.

With such a cordial face, shouldn’t you at least make some small talk?!

Nie Huaisang relented, “Yes, Your Highness. What is it that you would like me to ship, and to where?”

“Poultices, to my Fragrant Palace.” Prince Jin Guangyao looked to the side, “Ones for cuts and lashes. I’ve run out.”

“Ah, Your Highness…” Nie Huaisang gulped silently and braced for a beating, “all of the poultices for superficial wounds have been shipped elsewhere…”

The prince squinted slightly, “What?”

Nie Huaisang gripped his fan, “We don’t have any available poultices in our storehouses… Our next import will be in a couple of weeks, if Your Highness is willing to wait?”

“No available poultices? Where have they all gone?”

“Your Highness, I’m afraid that is confidential information, and I cannot disclose it to anyone,” Nie Huaisang paused to read the prince’s bitter face, “by order of His Majesty.”

“I am a prince,” Prince Jin Guangyao was beginning to look volatile, “and I cannot know where a single superficial poultice would be?”

“If Your Highness needs to treat a wound, the imperial physicians will surely help you out, as fifty percent of the medical shipment is sent to them—”

“Fifty percent? Where is the rest?”

“Like I said, Your Highness, I cannot disclose that without an order from His Majesty.”

Prince Jin Guangyao’s face worsened, but he said nothing more. From the way his eyes darted around, Nie Huaisang began to suspect that he was going through a list of potential residences that would have ordered a shipment.

“I see.” The prince finally spoke after a while, “Then would you have any blank talismans for me?”

Nie Huaisang thought for a moment, “I should. How many would you like?”

“As many as possible.”

“...” Nie Huaisang was at a loss for words, “I shall ship them to your Fragrant Palace then, once I’ve processed the inventory and delivery.”

“Then I’ll take my leave, Director.” Prince Jin Guangyao flipped his sleeve as he turned to leave, “Have a good day.”

Nie Huaisang awkwardly laughed as he bid farewell to the prince’s back. When he had left, Nie Huaisang straightened his back and dropped the smile. He opened his fan and began to fan himself, muttering underneath his breath, “Princes are really…”

He closed his fan promptly and lightly tapped his mouth with it. He shouldn’t be talking such treasonous things, even if there was no one around to hear it.

After a while of deliberating, he decided to visit the Rimefrost Villa sometime soon. After all, his work for the week was done…

And hopefully he could squeeze some poultices out of them so that Prince Jin Guangyao wouldn’t come looking for his head next.

Chapter 9: never forgetting the roots

Chapter Text

When the Fleeting Reverie incense burned away and its smoke had dissipated, Wei Wuxian went back to having nightmares.

However, since staying in the Rimefrost Villa, the nightmares had lessened in intensity. Now, his nightmares were filled with emotional pain rather than a frightful experience.

This one in particular was closer to his heart.

He was back in the Burial Mounds, fingernails full of cursed dirt and his clothes in tatters. His ribs were sticking out from underneath his skin, and his stomach growled with an unceasing starvation.

A soft, paper book was wedged in between the lapels of his robes, pressed against his chest as he wandered around aimlessly. Whenever it was too dark, he took out Xuanwu and slashed around to make sure he wasn’t walking into a tree or a walking corpse.

Eventually, he heard a faint sound—the sound of a child crying. Wei Wuxian steeled himself, knowing that the resentful spirits of the Burial Mounds sometimes did include small children or mimic the sounds to lure into victims.

However, this was too real of a cry. It did not echo through the smog like resentful spirits did. In fact, it was so faint that Wei Wuxian would have missed it if his hearing was any worse.

With some stumbling, he followed the sound of the child, and daylight began to pour in slowly with every step he took. He realized that he was finally approaching the exit to the Burial Mounds—something he had been yearning for.

He found the child in a cave: face full of tears and snot, hair frazzled, and clothes covered in dust and dirt. Upon seeing Wei Wuxian, the child had only cried harder.

He reminded Wei Wuxian of a younger Jiang Cheng—always crying alone somewhere and so, so tiny. He cooed to soothe the child, asking where his parents were. When learning that he was an orphan, Wei Wuxian shared the experience.

The child couldn’t have been anymore than three or four years old, but he still listened attentively and eventually stopped crying. As he sniffled, Wei Wuxian saw that the child was running a minor fever.

With some deciphering, he had figured out where the child lived—a village set in unclaimed territory between Yiling and Yunmeng. Brimming with resentful energy and having emerged from the Burial Mounds, the villagers were obviously quite frightened.

However, upon seeing that their lost child—who they’d been earnestly looking for—was holding hands with this random stranger and was coming home safe, the villagers did not do anything against him.

It was here that he had reunited with Wen Qing, where he woke up from the nightmare.

It couldn’t really be considered a nightmare though, he supposed. It was more of a memory, or a dream that started out quite rough. Wei Wuxian wiped the sweat from his face and went outside for fresh air.

It was early in the morning, the sun just peeking over the horizon as he stretched.

When Wen Qing and Wen Ning had recognized him, she quickly took him into the village. When he recovered from his wounds and stabilized his temperament, he was put to work—either farming or cleaning up the area.

He was only there for about a month to recover, but had quickly grown close to A-Yuan, the child he picked up from the Burial Mounds.

A-Yuan, in turn, had gotten close to him—eating his spicy food, sitting in the dirt to pretend to be a radish, and hugging his thigh whenever he got a chance. Wei Wuxian learned that his parents had died from a night hunt—just like his own—and was currently being raised by his grandmother.

Eventually he left their village, saying that he had things to do. He promised A-Yuan, Wen Ning, and Wen Qing that he would come visit when he got a chance.

However, not long after he had collected the Yin Tiger Amulet, he was picked up by Baoshan Sanren and made to do her bidding, and so he never had an opening to visit them.

He never thought that within those few years, the village was turned upside down.

He didn’t even know where A-Yuan was, Wen Qing had lost Wen Ning, and the rest of the villagers had been slain.

Wei Wuxian wiped away the tears that built up on his waterline, soaking his sleeve.

Lan Wangji woke up not long after, and Wei Wuxian approached him, “Zhan-er, Wen Qing got there safely?”

“Mn.”

Wei Wuxian sighed in relief, “That’s good, that’s good…”

Suddenly, a servant approached Lan Wangji and bowed, “Hanguang-jun, Director Nie is here to see you.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyebrows creased, “Director Nie? Nie Huaisang?”

Lan Wangji nodded, both to Wei Wuxian and the servant. When the servant left, Nie Huaisang was standing in the visitor’s hall. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian entered, and Wei Wuxian smiled, “Brother Nie!”

Then, Wei Wuxian remembered that he couldn’t be perceived, as he watched Nie Huaisang “ignore him” and salute Lan Wangji, “Hanguang-jun.”

Lan Wangji cast a glance at the fan he was holding before asking, “What are you here for?”

Nie Huaisang idly fanned himself, “Ah, Lord Lian came to visit my logistics department—we’ve been getting so many requests—and he was asking for poultices. But, Hanguang-jun, you took them all, and when I told him we had none in stock available, he got really mad at me.”

Lan Wangji blinked, and Nie Huaisang nervously continued, “Hanguang-jun, do you perhaps have some leftovers, or any I could borrow? I can pay for it out of my own pockets, I just need five or ten pouches of the stuff.”

“No more. All used.”

“Hah?” Nie Huaisang stopped fanning himself, “Hanguang-jun, were your soldiers that badly injured?”

“Not badly injured, just many injuries.”

Wei Wuxian whistled, “Zhan-er, you’re lying—isn’t that against the Lan principles you just finished copying?”

“Not lying.” Lan Wangji answered curtly.

Nie Huaisang thought that he was talking to him, and waved his hands nervously, “Ah, Hanguang-jun, I wasn’t trying to say that you were lying!”

Wei Wuxian laughed, and Lan Wangji shot him a subtle, dirty glance.

Nie Huaisang sighed, “Aiya, Lord Lian looked so angry, I fear he may ask for a shipment of my head to his door soon. I won’t be getting another shipment of the stuff for a while now…”

“Lord Lian is normally reasonable.”

“You don’t understand!” Nie Huaisang burst out before he reined himself in, “I mean, Hanguang-jun, Lord Lian’s kind nature isn’t unknown to me. It’s why I told him that we were out of stock—if it were my older brother, I’d have lied and ground my own flesh into a poultice if need be. You get the difference right? Anyhow, when I told him the truth, he suddenly started interrogating me.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know!” Nie Huaisang huffed indignantly, “He kept asking me for the residences that purchased the poultice, and I told him that it was confidential. The payment records are regularly sent to the financial department, overseen by His Majesty, so how could I go against him?”

Wei Wuxian tilted his head to the side as Nie Huaisang continued to ramble, “I even told him that fifty percent of the poultices that come through the logistics department are carted off to the imperial physicians, but it seemed like he didn’t want to go ask them!” He paused for a moment before lowering his voice, “Hanguang-jun, can you keep a secret for me?”

“Mn.”

“Promise?”

“Mn.”

“Okay…” Nie Huaisang took a deep breath and leaned forward, “To be honest with you, I think Lord Lian’s doing something strange in his Fragrant Palace.”

Lan Wangji only looked at Nie Huaisang, as if prodding further. Nie Huaisang leaned away, “I mean, think about it. He can’t source it from the imperial physicians because they keep a tight hold on their supplies, and it seems like Lord Lian wants a lot of poultices. I bet that he’s trying to find the residences that had been shipped poultices.”

“Did he ask for anything else?”

Nie Huaisang hummed, “A lot of talismans, as many as we could give him.” His shoulders drooped, “Hanguang-jun, do you see how ridiculous this is? All of our talisman paper? If the imperial army needs any more talisman paper, I’m afraid that they’ll have to wait two weeks for it!”

It seemed that Lan Wangji’s face soured, and Nie Huaisang panicked slightly, “Ah, Hanguang-jun, have I disturbed your breakfast. I’m sorry, I shall take my leave now.”

As he pivoted on his heels, however, Lan Wangji shot out an arm to grab his, “Director Nie.”

“Ah— ah?”

“What else has Lord Lian requested?”

“Hanguang-jun, that’s confidential information.”

“You told me about the talisman paper.”

“...” Nie Huaisang faltered, “Besides the poultices and talisman paper, he also requested some Spirit-Lure Flags—I told him we had none in stock because the palace refuses to source any demonic inventions from the Yiling Patriarch, and he was mad at me for that too—and some blank spiritual needle templates. This was probably two or three weeks ago?”

As he spoke, his gaze drifted until he made eye contact with Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian hadn’t thought he applied the charm to him, and after a few tests, he concluded that Nie Huaisang indeed should not be able to see him.

Lan Wangji noticed his antics and curtly asked, “Director Nie, what are you looking at?”

Nie Huaisang jolted, “Oh! Nothing, it’s just that I thought… there was a blockage against the wind from the window behind you…”

Lan Wangji looked behind him, seeing the paper knocking against the window frame lightly as a draft blew through the hall. Wei Wuxian did not dare to move, astonished that Nie Huaisang could notice such a small detail.

Nie Huaisang kept staring at the “blockage”, “Second General Yin, if… if there’s nothing left to say, ah, I’ll take my leave…”

Wei Wuxian nervously bit his fingernails, watching Nie Huaisang high-tail for the door when he learned that Lan Wangji had nothing more to ask.

When the hall was empty, Lan Wangji turned to Wei Wuxian with a skeptical face.

“I didn’t think he’d sense something that minor!”

Lan Wangji did not seem to care as much about that issue, only staring at Wei Wuxian silently.

Wei Wuxian paused before he awkwardly laughed, “Do you mean the inventions…? I might’ve made a few things while with Baoshan Sanren, and sold them to merchants in Yiling, who sold them elsewhere, and gave me the title…”

“Not that.” Lan Wangji answered curtly.

Wei Wuxian closed his parted mouth. Lan Wangji really was terrible at asking questions. Wei Wuxian guessed again, “Ah, what Lord Lian is planning?”

Lan Wangji gave a firm nod, and Wei Wuxian began to think aloud, “Poultices and spiritual needles imply that he’s trying to treat someone, but Spirit-Lure Flags would indicate the opposite. Talismans could go either way. I could assume that most of his requests are medicinal, but the fact that he’s refusing to contact the imperial physicians makes it more suspicious.”

“Spirit-Lure Flags are forbidden in the palace,” Lan Wangji added, “as they attract resentful energy.”

“Exactly. That’s the main reason why I cannot write it off. And if he requested it two or three weeks ago, then he has surely sourced some from outside and snuck them inside the palace. I just cannot think of why he would want them.” Wei Wuxian racked his brain, “Unless…”

He shook his head, “No, he cannot control a puppet. He shouldn’t have any Yin Iron in his possession.”

“Yin Iron?”

Wei Wuxian realized he had talked too much, “It’s a metal that attracts resentful energy and allows a user to control it. It’s very volatile, but the issue is that all of the known pieces of Yin Iron have been destroyed.”

He technically wasn’t lying. All five pieces of Yin Iron that he knew of were in his possession, and he knew that Lord Lian could not have snatched it from him overnight. He wasn’t about to pull out Xuanwu and check—he’d do that later.

Wei Wuxian went back to his original thought, and he had a revelation, “No, I was wrong.”

“About what?”

“He can control a puppet.” Wei Wuxian turned to fully face Lan Wangji, “It’s a rudimentary way, but I remember reading about special needles that contain the same function. That must be what Lord Lian requested the needles for.”

“And the talismans would be to stabilize the resentful energy of the patient,” Lan Wangji posited.

“I think that that’s a solid guess.” Wei Wuxian’s eyes darted left and right before he made up his mind, “Zhan-er, I’m going to go check out the Fragrant Palace.”

Lan Wangji hesitated before asking, “Your yin energy from the Burial Mounds.”

Wei Wuxian bit the inside of his cheek, “Are you worried that the Spirit-Lure Flags would give me away if I performed some demonic tricks?”

While Lan Wangji did not answer, his face was quite worried. Without another word, he pulled a thin, light blue string from his forehead and implanted it in Wei Wuxian’s forehead.

Wei Wuxian jumped back, startled, until he heard Lan Wangji’s voice in his head, “Communicate telepathically. If something goes wrong, I will be ready to travel to the Fragrant Palace.”

Lan Wangji’s mouth wasn’t moving, and Wei Wuxian found the whole experience quite uncommon, “Zhan-er, your cultivation is really high—as expected from the future Imperial Brother.”

“Hmph.”

”I’ll be on my way, then.” Wei Wuxian waved as he ran out of the doors of the visitor’s hall.

Wei Wuxian was familiar with the layout of Jinlintai—one of the perks of studying for his mission beforehand.

Thus, the Fragrant Palace was not difficult for him to find. Prince Jin Guangyao, despite not being the crown prince, was still awarded a lavish residence. The courtyard was filled with peonies and trees that blossomed in a multitude of colors.

For the most part, Wei Wuxian wasn’t worried that anyone would see him. Most of the people that he placed the charm on would not travel to this side of Jinlintai. Business was to be dealt with in the administrative section of Jinlintai, less so the residence.

However, as Wei Wuxian breached the wall of the Fragrant Palace, he heard a faint, familiar voice. Chills ran down his spine as he dashed to the nearest hiding place, which was behind a large tree.

”Zhan-er,” Wei Wuxian hissed through the telepathic bond, ”What is your brother doing here?!”

”My brother is there?” Lan Wangji answered back immediately, ”He told me that he was visiting the barracks.”

Wei Wuxian gritted his teeth. If Lan Xichen had to lie about his whereabouts to even his own brother, it was definitely a cause for suspicion.

Wei Wuxian peeked into the visitor’s hall, taking care not to fall into Lan Xichen’s field of vision. Thankfully, he had his back turned towards him, and since Prince Jin Guangyao could not perceive him, Wei Wuxian was safe.

“Your Highness,” Lan Xichen shifted his sitting position, “the tea that you gifted me was quite fragrant.”

“I’m glad it was.” Prince Jin Guangyao gave an amiable smile, “It comes from my hometown, Lanling. It took quite a while to be shipped here in Gusu.”

“Your Highness,” Lan Xichen fiddled with the white chess piece in his hand before placing it down, “I don’t think I deserve such a luxury if that’s the case. As a general, I’m not well-versed in tea, and cannot appreciate it to the level that you can.”

“Tea is tea, General Yin.” Prince Jin Guangyao placed down a chess piece, “If you can enjoy it, that’s all that matters to me. This Sparks Amidst Snow tea is good for cultivation and spiritual flow—I believe that you can make more use out of it than I can.”

Lan Xichen said nothing, but dipped his head.

Wei Wuxian sighed, ”Your brother seems to just be talking about tea.”

Lan Wangji said nothing, and Wei Wuxian left to search around the Fragrant Palace.

Still, he hugged the building, craning his ear to listen in on their conversation. There wasn’t much that was interesting—tea, chess, and endless gratitudes and statements of humility. It began to grow tiring to listen to, so after a while, Wei Wuxian had tuned it out.

The Fragrant Palace was actually quite large: the front of the residence was smaller than most other residences, but was rather deep. There were multiple small buildings that flanked the larger ones—thankfully, it seemed that the servants did not frequent the back area of the palace, so Wei Wuxian was free to open doors as he pleased.

Suddenly, as he was sauntering around the back, a sinking feeling seeped into the depths of his heart, dragging him down. Wisps of resentful voices wafted into his ears and evaded his mind, and he seemed to choke.

Lan Wangji noticed that Wei Wuxian’s idle chatter had strangely ceased, ”Wei Ying?”

Wei Wuxian groaned, ”So much hatred! Just what…”

He was in and out of an invisible strangulation, coughing for a breath as the resentful energy felt debilitating. His eyes darted around in confusion, but he couldn’t piece his thoughts together at this moment.

He ambled towards the source of the energy, sentences devolving into phrases, and then into words, and then into a jumble of syllables that hardly made sense to him at the moment. The voices, while not growing louder, were evading the folds of his brain. It permeated down to his bone marrow, making sure that their hatred was well-known.

Without looking around for witnesses, he flung open the door that brimmed with a demonic energy, closing it behind him once he was inside.

Through the telepathic bond, Wei Wuxian noticed that Lan Wangji was lightly humming a new, unfamiliar tune. However, judging by the way that Wei Wuxian’s body lightened and the voices started to dissipate, he figured that it must be another soul-calming musical score.

”Thank you, Zhan-er.”

The humming stopped for a moment, ”Focus.” It started back up again. Hmph.

The room was extremely dark, so much so that even if Wei Wuxian were to squint and try to look for anything, there would be nothing but pitch black. There was no light that filtered through into the room that could shed even a bit of light so that he could make out a silhouette. Wei Wuxian figured that there must have been a charm placed on the room to hide its innards, and sighed.

While he was tempted to start up a light, he was afraid that doing so would trigger a trap. After all, should anyone break into the unlocked door, this would have to be the first line of defense.

So for now, he just needed to feel around the room and hope his hands landed on something.

When he felt around, his hand brushed along a string of talismans. With how heavy they seemed to feel, there was definitely some ink or blood sigil written on the light paper. Further inside the room, Wei Wuxian walked into a table. He heard chains rattle before the room fell to silence again.

”Zhan-er, there’s a light prevention charm on this room, as well as marked talismans and a table with something chained to it. Combined with the strong smell of medicines and the resentful energy, I think this is what Lord Lian is hiding.”

”What is the plan now?”

Wei Wuxian thought for a moment, ”I’m going to place the perception charm on this patient and lead them out of the Fragrant Palace through music. At worst, only your brother will see me should Lord Lian find out that they’re escaping, and we can attempt to explain things to him.”

”Too risky. Do you know who the patient is?”

”No.” Wei Wuxian shook his head, as if Lan Wangji could see him, ”But whoever it is, Lord Lian either doesn’t like them very much, or is using them as a tool for something malicious. Either way, they wouldn’t be on his side.”

Lan Wangji did not respond, and Wei Wuxian immediately began to feel around on the table to locate the person’s forehead.

He figured out that he was standing near the center of the table, his cautious fingertips landing on a cold, thick layer of robes—neatly fitted to the patient’s body as if they had just been changed recently. Feeling up the body with scarce touches, he located the forehead and applied the charm.

The patient did not respond, but as Wei Wuxian whistled a beckoning song, he could feel the resentful energy begin to shift. He heard the sound of the chains being ripped from the table with an indescribable strength, and not long after, two feet landed on the hardwood floor at the same time.

He kept lowly whistling, hoping that Lan Xichen’s ears were not robust enough to hear him from all the way on the other side of the Fragrant Palace. He stayed close enough to the person for only them to hear, but even as they slowly walked out of the room, they were so shrouded in resentful energy and black smog that Wei Wuxian could not make out any features.

Out in the grass, carefully stepping so that the chains did not rattle against each other, nor were the person’s steps too heavy, Wei Wuxian managed to lead him all the way to the back edge of the Fragrant Palace. Just a few meters away from the protective ward of Jinlintai, Wei Wuxian had to focus extra hard on not only leaving behind no trace, but also making sure that he didn’t lead the person into the wards.

Slowly, step by step.

He was too focused on not breaking concentration with the beckoning tune to notice that Lan Wangji had stopped humming. It wasn’t until he was in the general area of the Rimefrost Villa that he sensed a presence running up to him, ”Wei Ying!”

The telepathic shout broke Wei Wuxian’s concentration, and the cloud of black smoke began to grow volatile. Luckily, Lan Wangji sent out spells and talismans to bind the person. The person could only make one loud yelp before they were silenced and carried into the villa.

They were taken to the same room that Wen Qing had rested in, only it seemed that this case would be even more difficult to handle.

Wei Wuxian couldn’t get a good look at the figure while he was concentrating on the person’s face (or what he assumed was the face) throughout their slow trip. Even now, the figure was nothing more than a misty silhouette.

However, he noticed a structure sprouting out from the person’s lower abdomen: a rod of sorts with a pure black cloth attached to the end. Wei Wuxian’s blood ran cold as he grasped the rod, feeling wood.

He withdrew his hand and turned to Lan Wangji, “A Spirit Lure Flag. Zhan-er, I’m going to pull it out. I need you to apply a hemostatic spell to the wound, just long enough for me to pack it.”

The remnants of Wen Qing’s visit had lingered, and so there was a wad of cloth and gauze for him to utilize. With one hand, he swiftly pulled the flag out from the abdomen, spurting black blood everywhere.

A light blue spark shot out from Lan Wangji’s fingers, and Wei Wuxian immediately went to pack the gaping wound. Flag posts were not meant to be used as direct weapons, but to be driven into the ground.

Thus, while the end of the stick was pointed, it wasn’t particularly sharp. Though it was dull and could hardly be impaled into a person, the black sludge of blood that dripped from its rounded end gave the pair all they needed to know.

Wei Wuxian grimaced as he smudged the sigils on the flag, deactivating its use and rendering it into a useless piece of cloth. When he had done so, the resentful spirits seemed to dissipate. As expected, without the presence of a bait, there was no reason for the lingering spirits to linger any longer.

Wei Wuxian, once more, felt the sinking feeling of hatred pull his heart down. He began to reinforce the tolerance charm he had placed on himself. While it would not be enough to completely repel the demonic energy, it was enough for Wei Wuxian to be able to withstand it.

The black smog began to fade away into the air, leaving a stale stench in the air that wasn’t entirely unbearable. It was better than the smell of despair and blood that the resentful spirits usually came with.

However, now that that stench had faded, the smell of rot and decay replaced it. Wei Wuxian’s eyes widened as he examined the figure lying on the bed in a pool of blood.

The figure was simply dressed—all blacks with a few gray accents. He was well-built with defined muscles, but seemed to be somewhat malnourished. He wore thick robes—multiple cotton layers stacked on top of each other with a thick, wool robe as an outer jacket. On his outer jacket were various talismans, all of which Wei Wuxian deactivated and disintegrated with the swipe of his hand.

The man’s shoes were all black, but did not look new by any means. If one looked closely, one could smell the stale blood and dirt. Now that Wei Wuxian paid attention to these details, the figure’s robes indeed smelled of mud and even lakewater, as if he had been everywhere without stopping to clean himself.

The gaping wound left by the flag post was the only visible injury that Wei Wuxian could see, seeing that the blood had coagulated into a scar around the hole. Beyond that were minor scars—old and newly-formed—strewn about his collarbone, neck, and hands.

However, the more he looked at the man, the more he realized that his body was twisted and twisted again, with broken bones and impacted areas. It was as if he had been beaten out of shape and then beaten again into place, so while his general structure resembled that of an intact human, his joints were twisted and were likely in more pain than after the first beating.

The man’s face was scarred and bruised, but beyond that, his features were quite sharp (likely from malnourishment). His hair cascaded around him like a halo, and if he were to stand up, it would run down to his lower back.

Wei Wuxian held his breath before quietly calling out:

“Wen Ning?”

Chapter 10: the ghosts of a winter's past

Chapter Text

When Wei Wuxian sent a letter to the Frost-Laden Manor addressed to Wen Qing’s pseudonym, he hadn’t expected her to immediately write back and demand that Wen Ning be relocated to the manor.

Then again, what else had he expected? Of course Wen Qing would want to see Wen Ning immediately.

So in the same fashion as with Wen Qing, Lan Wangji escorted Wen Ning out of Jinlintai with Wei Wuxian’s letter in hand, set to burn to ashes once Wen Qing was done reading it.

Wei Wuxian sat down in one of the benches in the pavilion, having idly wandered around Jinlintai without much thought as to where he was headed.

In the letter, Wei Wuxian briefly listed Wen Ning’s afflictions: the very obvious stab wound, broken bones, dislocated joints, lacerations, bruising, internal bleeding, burnt flesh, impacted organs, shrunken meridians, impaired spiritual flow—among other issues.

But in the beginning of the letter, he quickly told Wen Qing that Wen Ning was still, somehow, alive. His breathing was shallow and his spiritual flow was next to gone, but with the help of some talismans and Lan Wangji’s constant supply of energy, Wen Ning’s weak heart was still beating.

Wei Wuxian’s breath stuttered as he exhaled slowly. When he inhaled, he smelled the fragrance of lotus, and looked around at where he was.

This was the Vibrant House—Prince Jin Zixuan’s residence!

Good job Wei Wuxian, you managed to be so empty-minded that you somehow wandered into the crown prince’s territory!!

Startled by himself, he nearly forgot that he was imperceptible when Prince Jin Zixuan coincidentally looked at him.

However, his gaze was fixed downwards, and to his cousin Jin Zixun, he spoke softly, “Do you think Lady Jiang would like these?”

It was then that Wei Wuxian finally connected the dots. He was confused by the smell of the pond and lotuses because that was the smell of Yunmeng, not Gusu. In fact, Wei Wuxian was convinced that lotuses couldn’t grow in Jinlintai’s elevation, not until he had stumbled his way here.

Jin Zixun sighed, “Your Highness, you’ve already been engaged to her. All of this extra work—is it really necessary?”

Wei Wuxian fumed, but Prince Jin Zixuan snapped back faster, “Zixun, I understand that the Jiangs currently do not hold a powerful office, but that does not excuse you from having an attitude about them?”

“Your Highness, I didn’t mean it like that.” Jin Zixun backpedaled, “It’s just that there are more important things for Your Highness to focus on—you’ve spent nearly all of your allowance hiring gardeners, buying lotuses, and transporting lake water, all from Yunmeng. Do you know how far away that is? You’ve nearly grinded down our logistics department’s feet to its knees with the amount of traveling and hauling they’ve had to do. Not to mention that there is still an ongoing issue of resentful energy, the Yiling Patriarch’s influence, as well as the river flooding in Pingyang.”

But Prince Jin Zixuan didn’t seem to hear most of what his cousin said, his fingertips grazing the lotus leaf nearby, “It doesn’t smell like how the lakes at Yunmeng smell.”

“Well of course, Your Highness. With this elevation and the long journey, the smell is the first to go away. Besides, all of this is stagnant water with no source. It will eventually dry up.”

“Dry up?” Prince Jin Zixuan stood up in a hurry, “That won’t do. Zixun, help me draft a letter to the logistics department.”

“Again?!” Jin Zixun stepped back in astonishment, “Your Highness, what for?!”

“What this place is missing is running water.” Prince Jin Zixuan posited, “All the lakes in Yunmeng are interconnected, but the bodies of water here are separated. I’ll need some builders to connect the lakes and hopefully stimulate the water. Then, it should look more natural.”

Jin Zixun had long given up, realizing that he couldn’t convince the prince to divert his attention elsewhere. With a sigh, he headed out of the Vibrant House.

Prince Jin Zixuan did not follow. Instead, his fingertips skated across the surface of the cold water. Wei Wuxian stared in awe.

In the beginning of their engagement, Jiang Yanli was a senior disciple of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, and Prince Jin Zixuan was simply the heir Jin Zixuan of the Lanling Jin Sect. That peaco*ck had humiliated her, stepped on her kindness, and was always snappy when talking to her.

What changed? Why was he now spending so much resources, money, and time just to plant lotuses?

Perhaps Prince Jin Zixuan finally learned some manners and grace!

At first, Wei Wuxian figured that the lotuses were a way to mock Jiang Yanli. After all, the lotus ponds in Yunmeng were incomparable, and Gusu was such an inhospitable location for its growth. Should the lotuses die in Prince Jin Zixuan’s residence—it would be a grave insult to the Jiang Sect.

However, it truly did seem like he was trying to make it work, no matter the cost or chances.

Wei Wuxian watched the prince scrutinize the lotuses before a servant walked in just behind him. Wei Wuxian squirmed his way out to spectate from further away, watching as a few more servants walked in carrying pots of lotuses and boxes.

“Your Highness, the delivery is here.”

“Wonderful.” Prince Jin Zixuan stood up, “Leave them on the ground here. I’ll take care of them.”

The servants did as told, and when they filtered out of the Vibrant House and closed the gate, Prince Jin Zixuan flipped his sleeves around his arms until no fabric was hanging. He then rolled them up so that his forearms were visible. He tucked his loose robes into his waist, kicked off his boots and socks, and then rolled up his pants as well.

Wei Wuxian nearly burst out laughing. Farmers normally wore thin robes with little layers, and these robes were far from gaudy. They featured no hanging sleeves or robes that draped to the floor—instead they had thin pants that could easily be rolled up. In addition, there were ties and ropes that held up the fabric.

Prince Jin Zixuan, on the other hand, wore many thick layers of fabric—all expensive and embroidered by top-notch professionals of the imperial palace. They were not meant to be rolled up or folded carelessly in any way, so when he was fumbling with the layer, they bulged out and looked rather awkward.

Even so, Wei Wuxian commemorated the fact that he managed to hold everything up without needing rope or ties.

The prince waded straight into the water, shivering when his legs were submerged in the frigidness. Then, with a sense of admiration, Wei Wuxian watched him plant the lotuses and their seeds into the ground.

Naturally, after some time, the robes slipped and splashed into the water. However, Prince Jin Zixuan was less worried about his wet robes, fumbling the layers up as he looked around and muttered to himself, “I hope none of the lotuses were crushed…”

When he folded the layers back up haphazardly, they were sopping wet and dripped from his body. Wei Wuxian sighed, and as silently as possible, he applied a small Yunmeng-exclusive charm to him that would prevent his robes from falling again and another that promoted a faster drying.

Prince Jin Zixuan was naturally gifted in spiritual power, so as soon as he felt a slightly warm sensation on his back, he stood up promptly and whipped his head around in a panic.

“Who’s there?!”

When no one answered, he went back to what he was doing, but carried himself with a sense of unease.

This concealment spell really was powerful! Wei Wuxian grinned as he leaned in close to Prince Jin Zixuan. As much as he had improved, it was still fun to mess around with him.

So every now and then, he would send a small gust of wind towards the back of the prince’s neck, just to watch the goosebumps crawl up his body. Or he would send a small rock flying into the pond, carefully not to hit anything other than water.

After a while, it seemed that the prince would not leave the ponds. His fingertips were pruny and the charm would dissipate after some time, so his robes would just become damp again.

Wei Wuxian reapplied the charm—just for one last scare and as a farewell gift—and then departed the Vibrant House.

“… and then when the pebble fell into the pond right next to him, he jumped like a frog! Hahaha, Zhan-er, I wish you would’ve seen his face!”

Lan Wangji was stone-faced for the entire story, and when Wei Wuxian's story was done and his laughter died down, Lan Wangji finally spoke, “Reckless.”

“It would’ve been fine! He can’t perceive me without me letting him, so even if he figured out that there was someone messing with him, he’d never guess it was me.”

Lan Wangji’s eyes did not stray from his paper, “Wen Ning was transported safely with no issues. However, it seems that Lord Lian is on edge right now.”

He placed his brush down, “Wei Ying.”

“Hm?” Wei Wuxian propped his chin up on his hand, placing his elbow on the desk as he leaned in, “Does Zhan-er have a favor to ask of me?”

But Lan Wangji shook his head, “Do you like betting?”

“Betting?” Wei Wuxian was caught off guard, lifting his hand from his hand as he lowered his arm, “It’s not something I do but I don’t hate it. Why, what’s the bet?”

“Whether it will be Director Jiang or Lord Lian who visits the Rimefrost Villa.”

Wei Wuxian let out a small, understanding “oh” and leaned backwards onto his hands. He thought for a while as Lan Wangji finished writing his poem.

Lan Wangji never prided himself on anything, but if he had to choose, it would be his swordplay and calligraphy. He dedicated a portion of his studies to managing the pressure and speed of his brushstrokes.

But now, his strokes were more variable and wild. Though they stayed neatly in the invisible lines, there were stray strands of hair that would create small tributaries from the main brush, or careless dots of spattered ink from landing the brush too hard.

In other words, he was somewhat distracted, and he didn’t know what the distraction was.

Was it Wei Wuxian? Or perhaps the Frost-Laden Manor. Lan Xichen? Prince Jin Guangyao?

Anyhow, it’s not like it mattered. Lan Wangji let out a small sigh as Wei Wuxian faced him once more, “I bet you that it’ll be Director Jiang. It’s been so long since Wen Qing disappeared, and I’m sure he hadn’t approved of the ‘execution’.”

Lan Wangji gave a firm nod and closed his eyes, “Then if Lord Lian visits first, I would like you to answer a question of mine.”

Wei Wuxian co*cked his head to the side, “Zhan-er, I never took you for a betting man. All right—if Director Jiang visits first, I’d like you to answer a question of mine.”

“Mn.”

That entire day, the Rimefrost Villa had no visitors. Lan Xichen acted as normal, but briefly mentioned some rumors about Lord Lian’s shift in demeanor.

At night, during the treatment, Wei Wuxian hummed, “Zhan-er.”

Lan Wangji’s head lifted as Wei Wuxian continued, “Regarding Wen Ning’s condition from when we took him out of the Fragrant Palace, did you notice anything strange?”

Lan Wangji thought for a short moment, “Spirit Lure Flags are forbidden from entering Jinlintai.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.” Wei Wuxian flipped his slipping ponytail back over his shoulder so that it didn’t get in the way of Lan Wangji’s connection, “Additionally, all of the bruising and wounds were made before death.”

Lan Wangji shifted, “Death?”

“Mhm. Wen Ning had died, but not his spiritual cognition.” Wei Wuxian sighed, “Wen Qing told me that he once had a near-death experience with a demonic entity, and so his soul is actually a half-soul, and his cultivation is quite weak. However, it seems that the Spirit Lure Flag had attracted enough resentful spirits to fill that gap and sustain his spiritual cognition.”

Lan Wangji’s gaze strayed off to the side, “Does this mean that he is now a puppet?”

“A mutant one, I suppose.” Wei Wuxian paused for a moment, “Wen Ning is a special case. We’d have to see what his behavior is like once he wakes up. In the letter I sent Wen Qing, it lists out all of the potential results that might occur once he’s awake, and their respective solutions. We can only hope that whatever happens, no suspicion lands on your Frost-Laden Manor.”

Lan Wangji lowered his eyelids, “We have already housed enough suspicious refugees. No more.”

Wei Wuxian turned his head to look at him, “No promises!”

Lan Wangji pursed his lips as he severed the connection, “I shall play ‘Purification’ now.”

“Ooh, that’s a new one.” Wei Wuxian redressed himself, “I look forward to your playing, Hanguang-jun.”

Ever since Lan Wangji’s new title was publicized and everyone’s greetings towards him changed, he felt that the title was quite stuffy. It was a minor matter, so he never paid it any mind.

But the words slipped from his mouth once he summoned his guqin and sat down:

“‘Zhan-er’ is fine.”

In the morning, Wei Wuxian woke up anxiously.

It was not to say that Lan Wangji’s songs did not ease his temperament, nor were his living accommodations less than satisfactory, nor were his nightmares too much to bear (he had always been able to handle them).

It was just that today, he felt like something big was going to happen.

His stomach in knots, he squinted as Lan Wangji entered with a platter of breakfast food, “You’re up earlier than usual.”

“Yeah,” Wei Wuxian laughed nervously, “I just can’t seem to sleep well.”

Lan Wangji reached for his wrist to feel for a pulse, but Wei Wuxian quickly snatched it away, “No thanks!”

Lan Wangji, while stone-faced, had a twinge of concern on his face. Wei Wuxian added, “It’s not a health issue, I’ve already checked myself.”

Lan Wangji’s eyes shifted towards Wei Wuxian’s wrist before he straightened his posture, “Eat.”

Wei Wuxian, not wanting to provoke him, dutifully ate every last bland dish. As he ate, he asked, “No visitors?”

Lan Wangji shook his head, and Wei Wuxian looked to the side, “Jiang Cheng should’ve been notified of the prisoner movement, and Lord Lian has supposedly been restless from the loss of Wen Ning…”

“Do not talk while eating.”

Wei Wuxian let out a small “hmph” and quickly finished his meal.

As he did, a knock sounded at the door, “Wangji.”

Lan Wangji answered the door, greeting his brother with a salute. Lan Xichen’s face looked rather grim as he moved his gaze towards Wei Wuxian, who was right behind Lan Wangji, “Young master Wei, is Lord Lian able to see you?”

Wei Wuxian shook his head, and Lan Xichen let out a sigh of relief, “Lord Lian is here, and wishes to meet with you, Wangji.”

Lan Wangji’s disposition shifted. Although he had won their little bet, he did not look happy in the slightest.

When Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian arrived at the visitor’s hall, Prince Jin Guangyao was sitting down in one of the chairs. Lan Wangji stood before him with a slight dip of his head, “Your Highness.”

The prince, regal as ever in his heavy, embroidered robes and holding a bronze hand warmer, gave a cold smile, “Hanguang-jun.”

“What brings you to our residence, Your Highness?”

Prince Jin Guangyao stood up, holding his head high as his smile dropped slightly, “I’m sure you’ve heard of the Yiling Patriarch.”

Wei Wuxian flinched, and Lan Wangji answered coolly, “Only rumors. May Your Highness enlighten me.”

“His courtesy name is Wei Wuxian, birth name Wei Ying. He was once a Yunmeng Jiang Sect disciple, but had defected into demonic cultivation in Yiling’s Burial Mounds.”

“Is Your Highness wishing for us to send troops to Yiling?”

“No, I have reason to believe he is in Gusu.” Prince Jin Guangyao’s face darkened, “Not only in Gusu, but in Jinlintai.”

“Jinlintai’s wards and defenses are state-of-the-art.” Lan Wangji quickly quipped, “Has he breached them without notice?”

“He recently stole something from my residence.” Prince Jin Guangyao answered sternly, “Something quite valuable that we were planning to use to track him down. It seemed that, while it did lure him, he managed to escape.”

Wei Wuxian laughed. Lure him! He couldn’t even sense that Wen Ning was there—if anything, Prince Jin Guangyao had been the bait.

“And it was indeed Wei Wuxian’s doing?” Lan Wangji asked.

“Who else can it be?”

“I have received no reports of demonic traces entering Jinlintai, besides the one that had left not long after it entered.”

“Hanguang-jun, you may not be familiar with his skillset, but sneaking past Jinlintai’s wards is something very easy for a demonic cultivator such as him.”

He really did praise him too much. Without Baoshan Sanren’s spell, how could Wei Wuxian sneak past imperial defenses, nevermind ones set by immortals thousands of years ago?

Wei Wuxian laughed again. One had to fight fire with fire, immortal against immortal. How could Wei Wuxian compare with them? Was it that Prince Jin Guangyao viewed him too highly, or he viewed the ancient immortals too lowly?

When Wei Wuxian voices these thoughts aloud, Lan Wangji’s ear twitched but he made no other reaction.

Lan Wangji instead spoke smoothly, “What does Your Highness suggest we do?”

“Find the Yiling Patriarch, either dead or alive.” Prince Jin Guangyao’s thumb idly rubbed the hand warmer, “This will be top priority, by order of His Majesty’s imperial edict.”

From his billowing sleeves, he surfaced a golden scroll. From the way Lan Wangji’s hand dipped when it was placed in his palms, it was quite weighty.

Prince Jin Guangyao gave an amiable smile, “I trust that Hanguang-jun’s abilities may surpass the Yiling Patriarch.”

Lan Wangji dipped his head in silence. When the prince left, Lan Wangji let out a breath before looking directly at Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian’s finger grazed the tip of his nose as he pondered, “So the entirety of Jinlintai is looking for me. Zhan-er, we shall have to be diligent with this treatment then!”

Lan Wangji did not move, “Wei Ying, will Director Jiang now pose an issue?”

Wei Wuxian paused, and he lowered his arm, “If he does, you and Zewu-jun will be there to protect me, won’t you?”

“Shorten your visits to the Lakeside Manor.” Lan Wangji posited coldly, “He is the Director of War. If Lord Lian visited me, then it is likely that he visited him before me.”

Wei Wuxian stiffened and thought of Jiang Yanli, “My older martial sister…”

He did not say anything else. If Prince Jin Guangyao did indeed visit Jiang Cheng, then Jiang Yanli would have found out about the bounty on his head as well.

“Zhan-er.”

Lan Wangji did not answer, but looked at him intently.

“Let’s up the dosage. Two treatments a day, two hours per session.”

Lan Wangji opened his mouth to protest, but Wei Wuxian held out a hand to stop him, “Ah, don’t start. The scroll is much stronger now, so it can handle the increase. With the bounty on my head, it is imperative that we expedite the process and figure out a way to trap His Majesty.”

Lan Wangji slowly closed his mouth, allowing the air to bask in silence before he spoke, “It will be difficult to trap His Majesty.”

“Exactly.” Wei Wuxian pointed an index finger to the sky, “With just you, me, and Wen Qing, it will be difficult to prevent him from exerting his power over us. He will need a reason to give up the throne, something so precious to him that he would rather have that than be the most powerful person in China.”

Lan Wangji answered carefully, “His life.”

“Or women!” Wei Wuxian bellowed out a laugh, “I had a peek into his Inner Palace—you won’t believe just how many women and sons he’s got! Fortunately, it seems that hardly any of them are favored, so our only obstacles would be Lord Chun and Lord Lian. If anything, the emperor’s peripheral concubines and sons are somewhat resentful of him, so if he were to die, I wouldn’t see any tears shed by them.”

Lan Wangji looked appalled with every word that came out of Wei Wuxian’s mouth. The latter grinned toothily, “Anyway, yes, his life will be the most pertinent concern on his mind. After all, he was but a sect leader before becoming emperor. And your brother’s list of accomplishments far outweigh his demerits, if there are any at all. If His Majesty were to be usurped by anyone, he surely wouldn’t mind it much if it were your brother—as long as his life was preserved in the process.”

Lan Wangji’s eyes wavered, “To threaten His Majesty’s life is treasonous. We only have one shot.”

But Wei Wuxian wagged a finger, “Ah, Zhan-er, you’ve forgotten something.”

Lan Wangji focused his gaze onto Wei Wuxian, putting on an expectant face. Wei Wuxian crossed his arms thoughtfully and began to pace the room, “Zhan-er, as an imperial general, do you fight in every battle?”

“No.”

“Precisely.” Wei Wuxian turned to shoot Lan Wangji a smile before he went back to pacing, “And, what is the most dangerous place for an emperor to be?”

“The battlefield.”

“... the second most dangerous place.”

Lan Wangji lowered his eyelids, “The palace.”

“Exactly!” Wei Wuxian brightened, “And who are the most dangerous people to him?”

Lan Wangji seemed quite tired of the constant question and answer format, but nevertheless, he continued, “The princes.”

This time, Wei Wuxian let the visitor’s hall sit in silence.

Lan Wangji quickly connected the dots, “Are you suggesting that we provoke one of the princes to threaten His Majesty’s life?”

“Not provoke.” Wei Wuxian quickly corrected, “One of the princes has already been provoked. We just need to give him a little nudge in the right direction.”

Chapter 11: cold hearts will eventually sink

Chapter Text

When Jiang Cheng heard that the prisoner Wen Qing had been taken out of the Dragon Gate Prison and swiftly executed by Lan Wangji, he was quite conflicted.

On one hand, he felt that Lan Wangji’s actions were very suspicious, and that it must be Wei Wuxian who had convinced him to let her out. This meant that Wen Qing was probably still alive, carted out of the palace and hiding away elsewhere under the guise of death. Thus, Jiang Cheng was no longer in charge of her actions or movements.

On the other hand, he was anxious for the backlash. Either from the prison guards, or from one of the princes, or from the emperor himself. After all, Wen Qing was a Wen, and the entirety of Jinlintai knew that. Lan Wangji executing her before they had a chance to interrogate her about her movements was entirely too rash.

And the blame would not only be put on Lan Wangji, but on Jiang Cheng as well for allowing it to happen.

So he didn’t know what to do, or what to say, or how to act. He could only pick his fingers, feeling Zidian crackle idly around his finger and wrist as it sensed his unease.

So far, nothing has happened to him. No letters, no visits pertaining to the suspicious transfer—nothing. It was as if Wen Qing’s execution meant nothing to Jinlintai, when in reality, they had lost their only lead to a potential rebellion starting up.

But to Jinlintai, who had far more urgent matters to attend to, the prestigious Hanguang-jun killing off a prisoner was not suspicious to them. Perhaps they had figured that she had incurred his wrath during her capture on the battlefield, or perhaps they didn’t even think much of it.

Maybe it was just Jiang Cheng who was worried about the whole ordeal becoming messy.

And then the imperial edict arrived.

Jiang Cheng, upon seeing Prince Jin Guangyao’s cold face, thought that he was done for. That they had somehow tied Lan Wangji’s suspicious execution order to Jiang Cheng and were about to punish him for a deed he wasn’t even aware of until it was done.

But, to his surprise and relief, it was nothing like that.

Actually, no. Scratch that. He wasn’t relieved in the slightest!

Apparently that dumbass Wei Wuxian managed to incur His Majesty Emperor Qingling’s wrath!

Prince Jin Guangyao had given him the smallest of smiles when he told Jiang Cheng of what his brother had allegedly done—stealing one of the prince’s treasures. Jiang Cheng was then ordered to hunt him down, to make him kneel before the emperor and atone for his crimes and sins, to force him to reap the consequences of becoming the Yiling Patriarch and a demonic cultivator.

Just at the sound of “demonic cultivator”, Jiang Cheng’s blood boiled.

He already hated Wei Wuxian’s flippant use of demonic energy, his refusal to carry his sword—every action that strayed from what he used to be like. What had changed? Wei Wuxian had claimed that it was just how life was—and that through demonic cultivation, he could protect the Scroll of Guanyin.

Bullsh*t! Wei Wuxian was so good at lying—what made this time different?

Thus arrived another conflict.

Should he support Wei Wuxian’s suspicious, deviant behavior, or do what the emperor ordered him to do?

He just told Prince Jin Guangyao that he would uphold the edict as best as he could. Half-empty words, partial lies, but the prince had taken it and left with his entourage without hesitation.

Jiang Cheng had his sect to think about. The moment he showed any hesitation against Wei Wuxian, the backlash would be tremendous—not to mention that they had recently finished rebuilding the Lotus Pier and had just slipped their way out of the mourning period. No longer was there a white sash tied around his waist—his sword Sandu was set in place of it.

He made up his mind.

He would stand idle. As long as he did the bare minimum of motions to fool the royalty, he could bide Wei Wuxian some time to hurry the f*ck up!

He clenched his fist, watching purple and white sparks fly off Zidian as it trembled.

At this moment, Jiang Yanli emerged from her room, fingertips reddened from embroidering. Seeing Zidian’s unstable state, she rushed out into the courtyard and grabbed Jiang Cheng’s arm, “A-Cheng!”

Jiang Cheng simmered down, taking a deep breath as Jiang Yanli asked, “What’s wrong?”

Jiang Cheng did not answer. The words jumbled together on the tip of his tongue, knotting themselves as they anchored to the back of his throat, unable to leave his mouth. He sat down on the stone stool, spaced out.

Jiang Yanli called over her lady-in-waiting, “Quickly get the tea, it should be done brewing by now.”

When she returned with the tea set platter, hot steam wafting from it as it was placed down on the stone table, Jiang Cheng still did not talk.

He grit his teeth. Every move he made was tinged with a sense of paranoia. If he stood idle for too long, the royal family would know of his inaction and hesitation. If he truly went against Wei Wuxian—the man backed by a powerful immortal—Jiang Cheng would be fighting a losing battle and eventually lose everything again.

Again.

“A-Jie,” Jiang Cheng called out with a soft, hoarse voice.

“Yes? What is it, A-Cheng?”

Jiang Cheng looked at Jiang Yanli, tears beginning to form at his waterline as he forced them down. Zidian calmed, but his hand never stopped shaking.

“Wei Wuxian might die.”

Prince Jin Zixuan was knee-deep in the water, cheery now that the cold water was running past him and was no longer stagnant.

His boots and socks had been discarded off to the side, alongside his outer robes. He was not expecting any visitors today, so had the courage to wear only his lightest robes to wade into the water.

Earlier, he had been off into the streets of Gusu when a children’s song seemed to worm its way into his head. After a while of poking around, he had come to find out that the song’s name was The Ballad of Guanyin’s Tears—a lengthy poem that had been broken up into sections and scattered about. Only after a white of hunting around had he pieced the segments together:

Begonias soaked in rain
a golden fingertip weaves
the silent sound of a spinning loom
hark the wild cry of dragons.

Ask her which storm she brews;
she answers with a dry face:
“No clouds can be woven
with this thread of strife.”

So upon the mortal world
benevolent Guanyin extends her arm down
scroll wedged in her fingernail
depositing it down to Yiling.

Mountain peaks, underwater trenches—
no power can undo the scroll’s binding.
Only a messenger whose throat is sealed
can buy a horse and saddle for Gusu.

He buys a sword of pure iron in Yiling,
a hardy shield from Tanzhou,
an amulet worth gold in Yueyang,
and finally a heavy heart as he approaches Gusu.

At dawn, he kneels in Gusu’s Cold Spring
to atone for the reason his throat is sealed.
No one can hear his yells
only the sound of the Yellow River roaring.

At dusk, he leaves the spring
footsteps nimble and light
that the begonia petals
do not lose their raindrops.

A thousand miles and a thousand deaths
enshrined in golden light does he finally
reveal the Scroll of Guanyin—
tears shed for far too long, knees bled for a distance.

The messenger holds the scroll that lists his deed,
accepting and receiving no rewards.
He asks before him only one thing:
the help that rivals heaven.

No need for a steed to go home,
no need for a saddle to sit upon,
no need for a whip to spur,
nor the armor of generals.

Another thousand miles,
another thousand deaths,
only bathed in blood will
the Scroll of Guanyin relent.

The funerary gong bellows
and the dais of viscera lays
a scroll unbreakable—
the exception being the Son of Heaven.

At last the rightful Son of Heaven,
white robes stained with celebratory wine,
can sit upon his golden glass throne
and rule a podium of blood.

Naturally, the poem was quite grim. The talk of viscera, blood, and gore that rang from children’s mouths had drawn him in, and now that Prince Jin Zixuan got the full picture, he made one thing clear to himself:

He was not going to go for the throne anymore.

No fool would follow a tale like that! Just the thought of it sent chills up his spine.

The poem was treasonous, so he had burned it before returning to Jinlintai. The gates of the imperial palace never felt colder.

Although he had forgotten the exact wording of the poem, there was no doubt that he remembered the gist of it. If he were to get himself involved in the fight for the throne, his blood would be on the dais described in the poem.

He valued his life, and so continued to plant lotus flowers until he could find an opening to slip away. Perhaps he’d live in seclusion—oh, he would have to trouble Jiang Yanli—and find a nice cottage somewhere in the countryside to settle down.

He had already shed many of his pompous younger habits, but this poem made him shed even more. He was willing to farm, cook, mend, clean, hunt, do anything!—if it meant that he could live with his neck still attached to his body.

He really hated the idea of dying!

He spilled a few curses underneath his breath before an eunuch approached the side of the lotus pond, “Your Highness, Lady Jiang has come to visit.”

“Lady Jiang?” Prince Jin Zixuan reverently sounded out each syllable of the name as if it were his lifeline (in a way, perhaps it was), “Quickly, let her in, let her in!”

“Your Highness…” The eunuch was less in a rush, observing Prince Jin Zixuan’s rather barren dressing and completely unkempt look, “Shall I fetch some servants to redress you and allow Lady Jiang to wait in the visitor’s hall?”

“Whatever!” Prince Jin Zixuan smiled, wading swiftly out of the cold water and into the colder air, “Quickly, Eunuch Jiu, quickly!”

The prince was far too excited to truly check for any impurities in his redressing before he rushed out. Just before he approached the entrance to the visitor’s hall did he finally smooth out the wrinkles and flyaways of his hair before he entered.

Jiang Yanli perked up and stood, greeting Prince Jin Zixuan amiably. The prince smiled and quickly beckoned for her to sit, “What brings you here, Lady Jiang?”

Jiang Yanli dipped her head, “I made some soup for my Lakeside Manor, and thought that it might suit Your Highness’s taste, so I wished to bring over a bowl.”

She began to open up a wooden box that she had carried over, but Prince Jin Zixuan stopped her hand, “Lady Jiang.”

Jiang Yanli was quite startled, withdrawing her hands, “Yes, Your Highness?”

It was here that Prince Jin Zixuan had begun to panic. He laid everything out in his head—everything he wanted to say, everything he wanted to do, everything he wanted to convey—but now faced with the moment, he blanked and couldn’t quite remember.

What came out was a series of stutters that the patient Jiang Yanli aimed to decipher, “You— Well— I… Lady Jiang— Jiang Yanli… The truth is…”

Jiang Yanli placed a soft hand over his, “Your Highness, considering our positions, please do not be hesitant if you wish for us to distance our visits again—”

“No!” Prince Jin Zixuan’s rejection of the idea rang loudly in the Vibrant House, “Lady Jiang, that’s— that’s not what I was— what I meant to…”

Dammit, why was it that everytime he looked at her, he forgot how to speak?! His palms began to sweat in the lingering warmth of the visitor’s hall, but he tightened his hold on Jiang Yanli’s fingers—as if afraid that she would slip away like water.

Finally, he cleared his throat and aimed to start over, “Lady Jiang, the truth is, your— your fiancé is a coward, and no longer wishes to covet the throne, but if Lady Jiang’s wish was to become empress, then I am at a loss, because I really do love you—”

Prince Jin Zixuan froze as the words tumbled out of his careless, running mouth. He cautiously looked up, seeing that Jiang Yanli’s gentle face was the same as ever.

It was only after a beat of silence passed that Jiang Yanli’s smile deepened, “Your Highness, if I may be open to you—becoming the empress was my childhood dream.”

To that, Prince Jin Zixuan’s heart sank. He withdrew his hands, allowing Jiang Yanli to have hers back. She placed them gingerly on her lap, as if they would break from any further impact.

Her smile really was quite cruel, now that Prince Jin Zixuan looked at it.

“But,” her voice rang clearly in the empty hall, “now, I…”

Prince Jin Zixuan’s small sliver of hope reignited within milliseconds, and he perked back up with large, expectant eyes, “You…?”

“I noticed the lotus ponds in your Vibrant House.” Jiang Yanli’s demure smile was quieter, “It wasn’t easy growing lotuses at this elevation, was it?”

Prince Jin Zixuan’s face glowed red as he averted his gaze.

Jiang Yanli smiled until her eyes became beautiful crescent moons, “I’ve come to learn that it was not becoming the empress that I was hoping for—it was marrying you.”

It was then that his head shot up, eyes as wide as teacups, drinking in the sight. The only word he could muster was a frail, “Really?”

Jiang Yanli nodded, and the prince felt like a giddy little kid. He pursed his lips into a disbelieving smile, and allowed Jiang Yanli to hold his callused hands.

She withdrew one hand, lifting it up towards his face with a small laugh, “Your Highness, I’ve just noticed that there is some mud on your face.”

Prince Jin Zixuan quickly but tenderly held that hand, “‘Zixuan’. Please call me ‘Zixuan’.”

Jiang Yanli was taken aback, but as a palace resident, knew how to adapt quickly.

“All right, Zixuan.”

Wei Wuxian didn’t mean to run into Jiang Yanli.

Well, he was mostly avoiding Jiang Cheng, on account of the imperial edict that was out for his head. But he hadn’t thought that, on one of his daily excursions out into the palace, that he would run into Jiang Yanli and her lady-in-waiting. The latter was carrying a small, mahogany food box with ornate gold decorations, and looked to be of great importance.

Wei Wuxian had known that her lady-in-waiting could not perceive her, and thus made no move to try and strike up a normal conversation, “Shi-jie, where are you going?”

Jiang Yanli, used to this charade, had turned to her lady-in-waiting, “Xinyi, how much further until Lord Chun’s residence?”

Wei Wuxian’s breath had hitched, barely hearing Xinyi’s answer. At first, he was angry, but then he remembered the delicate lotus flowers and seed pods in the Vibrant House, and said nothing.

Jiang Yanli, though she could not react in any large manner, was notably perplexed about Wei Wuxian’s lack of retort. In fact, ever since Wei Wuxian came back from his first visit to the Vibrant House, he didn’t dare speak ill of Prince Jin Zixuan.

And now that Wei Wuxian had seen just how much of a bumbling fool the great Prince Jin Zixuan turned out to be, he couldn’t help but laugh. Even so, there was a sense of relief—like a great pressure had been lifted from his shoulders.

Prince Jin Zixuan would only ever act like this around Jiang Yanli, never in the presence of another. If he found out that someone else knew that he had stuttered his way into halfway-proposing, and that Jiang Yanli ended up needing to finish the proposal, the prince would never live it down—nevermind that it was Wei Wuxian who had witnessed it!

But even as he left the Vibrant House and made sure Jiang Yanli left for the Lakeside Manor not long afterwards, Wei Wuxian couldn’t bring himself to laugh about it anymore.

Jiang Yanli liked Prince Jin Zixuan, and Prince Jin Zixuan liked Jiang Yanli.

It was such an elementary statement that Wei Wuxian chuckled at himself. He was glad that Jiang Yanli had to put on a charade for Xinyi—otherwise, if she had asked to walk Wei Wuxian to the Lakeside Manor, he wouldn’t know if he could contain his conflicting feelings.

What was “liking a person”? Wei Wuxian didn’t know. He didn’t know why Jiang Yanli loved Prince Jin Zixuan, nor the other way around. Not to say that Jiang Yanli had no merits—on the contrary—but he found it hard to believe that Prince Jin Zixuan’s thick skull managed to become a romantic in the few years that Wei Wuxian had been gone.

It really was quite strange—the act of liking someone, as well as Prince Jin Zixuan’s behavior.

He didn’t want the throne anymore? He was “a coward” as he said?

Wei Wuxian found himself walking back to the Rimefrost Villa.

He carefully checked for any visitors, and thankfully he had, because it seemed that Lan Xichen was having a quite intense discussion with Prince Jin Guangyao.

He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but could only faintly see their silhouettes through the paper windows. Both figures were standing as tall as they could, arms folded behind their backs and postures stiff as a board.

He paid them no mind, knowing that he wouldn’t gain any information from staring at shadows, and went off to find Lan Wangji.

Finding the fuddy-duddy was not difficult. Wei Wuxian could recognize Bichen’s sword glare from miles away. He ran up to the small training field situated in a back corner of the villa.

At the sound of Wei Wuxian’s footsteps, Lan Wangji sheathed Bichen. He did not say anything, but stared at Wei Wuxian, expecting him to begin.

Wei Wuxian leaned in, “Zhan-er, what’s your brother talking about with Lord Lian?”

Lan Wangji shook his head, “Silencing barrier. Cannot hear.”

Wei Wuxian’s shoulders sagged, “And that hag didn’t give me anything to eavesdrop with.”

But then, he perked back up, “Zhan-er, I’ve got big news.”

Lan Wangji went quiet, and Wei Wuxian continued, “My older martial sister and that Lord Chun, though already fiancés, confessed to each other. Not only that, but Lord Chun himself said that he was no longer interested in the throne.”

Lan Wangji was hardly interested in romantic affairs, nevermind those of the princes, but the latter half of Wei Wuxian’s statement made his ears perk, “No longer interested?”

They began to walk to Lan Wangji’s chambers, closing the doors as Wei Wuxian talked freely, “That’s right, Zhan-er. I have no idea what happened. Just a few days ago, he was doing all of the actions that a prince would be doing while preparing to take the throne, you know, studying politics, meeting with advisors, and the like.”

Lan Wangji thought for a while, “A couple of my soldiers were on gate duty yesterday, and in their report, they stated that Lord Chun had left the palace with two servants for the entire morning and afternoon, and they did not return until dusk.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyebrows creased, “Do you think…”

“Mn.” Lan Wangji gave a firm nod, “Something must have happened outside.”

Wei Wuxian idly shook his head, “He wouldn’t have gone far if he went with a small entourage. Any further than Gusu, and he would be required to take a palanquin and at least six servants. This means that whatever happened, had to have happened in Gusu.”

Lan Wangji added, “There were no reports of incidents in Gusu, nor did Lord Chun return with any injuries or visible exertion.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes darted left and right as he racked his head, “Gusu… something in Gusu must have told him…”

He put on a cheeky smile, “Do you think he saw a fortune teller?”

Lan Wangji did not look convinced, and Wei Wuxian shook his head, “No, Jinlintai has a top-notch astrologist hired to read his fortunes whenever he wishes. He wouldn’t have any reason to find an inferior one.”

Lan Wangji did not speak for a white before he lifted his head, “Go. To Gusu’s streets.”

“Ah? Do you have an idea?”

Lan Wangji shook his head, and Wei Wuxian finally connected the pieces, “Yes, let’s go to Gusu! Standing around here won’t help us—we must see if we can find what enlightened His Highness Jin Zixuan.”

As they set off to leave (needing nothing but their weapons and money), Prince Jin Guangyao also seemed ready to depart. He greeted Lan Wangji with great courtesy before exiting.

Wei Wuxian thought that Lan Xichen would be wearing his usual smile. He never thought for a minute that he would have the ability to put on a cold face, so much so that Wei Wuxian stepped forward, “Zewu-jun, are you all right?”

Lan Xichen must have been in some sort of a daze, for at the sound of his title, light flooded back into his hollow eyes. He turned, “Young master Wei?”

“Zewu-jun, I believe you were spacing out when Lord Lian left…”

“Ah.” Lan Xichen coughed into a fist, and Wei Wuxian could see the slight tinge of red creeping up on his ear, “There are simply many things to think about. His Highness has… enlightened me on a few more to keep in mind.”

“Such as what?” Lan Wangji spoke up this time.

Lan Xichen shook his head and changed the subject, “Where are you two headed off to?”

“Gusu.” Lan Wangji lowered his head into a dip, “His Highness Lord Chun is exhibiting strange behavior after returning from a day trip to Gusu. We wish to investigate.”

“Does…” Lan Xichen faltered, “Does anyone know about this?”

Lan Wangji shook his head, and Wei Wuxian gave an awkward smile. Lan Xichen sighed, “I will say that you are visiting the Frost-Laden Manor for a day to check-up on things then, should anyone ask.”

Wei Wuxian saluted, “Thank you, Zewu-jun.”

Lan Xichen seemed to shudder, but he ultimately said nothing.

Chapter 12: ephemeral sandalwood traces

Chapter Text

The carefree streets and streams of Gusu were a far cry from stuffy Jinlintai that loomed in the backdrop of every view from the city.

Simple bridges cut through the small river, upon which there were boats that sold all sorts of wares: travel, wine, and loquats most notably. Wei Wuxian bared his fangs as he grinned, flocking to every stall he saw.

Tassels, drums, combs, kid’s toys, buns, pancakes—it had been so long since Wei Wuxian had the luxury to poke around, even if he was invisible.

“Zhan-er, how much money did you bring to spend?”

Lan Wangji talked without moving his lips much, “Focus. Do not be frivolous.”

“How long has it been since you’ve last been out and about? Without money, we have no power, and thus no intel on anything suspicious happening around here.” Wei Wuxian pouted, crossing his arms, “It’s too bad that no one can see or hear me, because that means that I’d have to coach you through the interaction.”

“Ridiculous.”

“Not ridiculous!” Wei Wuxian protested, injecting indignation into his words, “Zhan-er, where are you headed towards?”

Lan Wangji opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Wei Wuxian pounced on that opportunity, “You were about to say ‘the sect in this city’, weren’t you? That would unfortunately be the Gusu Branch of the Jin Sect, so that’s a no-go—and you realized that.”

“Where do you suggest?”

Wei Wuxian was going to tease him again, but relented and instead pointed in a direction, “Over there.”

His finger was pointed towards a tavern: the Swirling Sparks Inn.

Wei Wuxian grinned, “It’s the biggest inn in Gusu, meaning that everyone will likely pass through here: cultivators, families, merchants, and maybe even princes!”

Lan Wangji blinked, and Wei Wuxian’s shoulders sank as he huffed, “Zhan-er, believe me. The staff at this inn are most likely locals who have worked in that inn for a while. It has a booming business, so conversation must be plenty between workers and customers. There is surely going to be a lead in there.”

Lan Wangji had nothing to say, and after a while of pondering, he finally walked towards the inn. Wei Wuxian’s smile bloomed back to life as he bounded in after him.

Wei Wuxian’s regret was that, with his current invisibility, he couldn’t order alcohol. Lan Wangji would not touch it, and should a stray eye wander in their direction, they would see a floating bowl of disappearing alcohol. Wei Wuxian loved to tease Lan Wangji, but didn’t want to draw that much attention to him should he be recognized.

Thus, Wei Wuxian could only sit and watch Lan Wangji order a few dishes for himself. From what he remembered from his last visit, they were a far cry from Lan Wangji’s diet at Jinlintai—well-seasoned and colorful with flavor—even if he had ordered the blandest dishes possible.

It was currently lunchtime, so the inn’s restaurant floor was covered with people: workers, cultivators, and the like. Wei Wuxian looked around before turning to Lan Wangji, “I’m going to walk around for a bit. When the waiter comes back with the food, ask him if there’s anything strange or special going around Gusu.”

Lan Wangji let out a quiet, “Mn.”

Wei Wuxian leapt up from the table, carefully weaving through the workers and visitors checking into the inn. He listened in on a few cultivators’ tables, but beyond the usual night-hunt assignment, there wasn’t much that stood out to him.

It wasn’t until he passed by a merchant’s table that a term rang clear to his ears.

“The Yiling Patriarch’s goods are just as good as any orthodox product!”

Wei Wuxian whipped his head towards the table, approaching with caution and slotting himself into a safe area where he could focus on their conversation without bumping into anyone.

Another merchant sighed, “With all due respect, traveling to Yiling is such a hassle.”

“You’ve got it all wrong.” The first merchant waved his hand dismissively, “He may be the Yiling Patriarch, but that’s only because that’s where he started selling his wares. Nowadays, his products can be found anywhere that the orthodox sects turn a blind eye to.”

A third merchant slammed his bowl of alcohol down, “Do you know why you can’t purchase the Yiling Patriarch’s goods in the normal places? That’s because they’re illegal! Let me tell you something—the day that you get found out will be the day that I take your customers.”

Wei Wuxian felt quite awkward listening to his title be thrown around, and left once he realized that they weren’t talking about much that was useful.

He knew that Gusu had merchants where his inventions could be purchased—it was the only way he could make money, after all. Although the orthodox sects condemned the purchase of his wares, he could see disciples hiding underneath cloaks and buying his inventions in bulk. When Wei Wuxian had ascended the mountain and descended for missions, he watched as the “Yiling Patriarch’s dangerous and illegal goods” turned into “reformed night-hunting tools.”

None of the tables nor the workers’ backroom gave him any information, so he ventured outside seeing that Lan Wangji was still waiting on his dishes.

Outside, the streets were bustling with people. Tanghulu was being served just across the inn. Cloth was being dyed in the alleyways behind the stalls, and the fragrant smell of various foods filled the cold winter air.

Most families were inside eating lunch, but there were still children playing outside. They wielded dull, wooden swords and slashed at each other. After some time, Wei Wuxian came to realize that they were roleplaying as notable cultivators.

There was a little Prince Jin Zixuan, proudly brandishing his splintered sword. There was an energetic Jiang Cheng wearing a wide grin, and a little “Yin” Xichen going on the defense. Of course, in reality, none of these parties would actually fight each other, but this was the world of children, who had favorites they wanted to play.

At one point, Wei Wuxian heard a loud cry erupt from the trio of children, and he carefully approached to hear them better.

“You can’t just break the scroll, Feihong!”

Wei Wuxian instinctively clutched his gut.

Feihong, who was playing as Jiang Cheng, indignantly placed his hands on his hips, “Xiaoqiong, I’m saving you!”

Xiaoqiong was the one playing Prince Jin Zixuan, and he confronted Feihong with some simmering anger, “That scroll makes me emperor! Why would you destroy it?”

The kid playing Lan Xichen was trying to mediate the argument, but neither child could be calmed. Feihong straightened up his back so that he was taller, “Don’t you remember the ballad?”

“Who doesn’t?” Xiaoqiong squinted, “A scroll unbreakable / the exception being the Son of Heaven. At last the rightful Son of Heaven / white robes stained with celebratory wine / can sit upon his golden glass throne! It’s a good thing!”

“You missed like half of both verses!” Feihong’s voice cracked as he squeaked, “The funerary gong bellows / and the dais of viscera lays / a scroll unbreakable / the exception being the Son of Heaven. At last the rightful Son of Heaven / white robes stained with celebratory wine / can sit upon his golden glass throne / and rule a podium of blood.”

Xiaoqiong pursed his lips, “So what? Being emperor isn’t easy. There are so many princes wanting the throne—battles are bound to happen!”

The children continued bickering, but Wei Wuxian had tuned it out.

A ballad?

He rushed back inside the Swirling Sparks Inn and located Lan Wangji. He was eating when Wei Wuxian found him, and most of the dishes had already been eaten.

He hurriedly sat down next to him, “Zhan-er, I think I figured it out.”

Lan Wangji lowered his eyelids and finished chewing, “A grotesque song.”

“You figured it out as well!” Wei Wuxian beamed, “I could only get one verse and about half of another one, something about the Son of Heaven ascending the throne surrounded by gore.”

Lan Wangji nodded firmly, “It is related to the Scroll of Guanyin. The waiter said the ballad’s name was the Ballad of Guanyin’s Tears.”

Wei Wuxian thought for a moment, “It must’ve scared Lord Chun out of wanting the throne. It turns out that he’s not as ruthless as he used to be! Zhan-er, did you know that he used to think that the more monsters he killed, the better my older martial sister would think of him? Instead, she thought of him as quite heartless.”

Then something clicked in his head, and he whipped his head up to face Lan Wangji, “My older martial sister, she used to tell me that becoming empress was not as ideal as people thought of it. So, maybe it’s a good thing that Lord Chun is no longer seeking the throne.”

Lan Wangji did not look as relieved as Wei Wuxian did, “Wei Ying, this ballad refers to us.”

Wei Wuxian’s ears perked, and his blood ran cold.

That’s right. The Son of Heaven was going to be either Lan Xichen or Lan Wangji, and the imminent bloodshed was going to be their issue. How could he have forgotten?

They had exited Jinlintai to see what troubled Prince Jin Zixuan, not knowing that they would be returning to Jinlintai with heavier baggage.

Wei Wuxian closed his eyes, “And there’s still Lord Lian to think of. With Lord Chun withdrawing from the fight, I’m sure Lord Lian would be more than delighted.”

“He will not lower his guard.” Lan Wangji warned after a sip of chrysanthemum tea, “Lord Lian is calculative and highly secretive. With Wen Ning taken away, he will become more aggressive—especially to you.”

Wei Wuxian gave a firm nod, “I think this is what we came looking for. Let’s quickly head back to Jinlintai.”

Lan Wangji did not protest.

Lan Xichen’s daily routine was normally uneventful.

In the morning, he would wake up, eat breakfast, and train in swordsmanship. After lunch, he would take his time reading whatever book he was working on. Afterwards, he would pull out musical scores to practice music. After dinnertime, he would read a little more before retiring to bed.

Lately, however, Prince Jin Guangyao had come to visit him, obstructing his normal routine. But Lan Xichen welcomed him, firstly out of courtesy—later, out of enjoyment.

Prince Jin Guangyao was a pleasant presence to be around—amiable smiles, soft words, genuine dimples. He often visited around noon, other times in the afternoon. There was only once where he had visited in the evening—nothing eventful.

Eventually, Prince Jin Guangyao’s visits became more regular: normally every other day except for the few hiccups where the prince was busier than normal.

“Zewu-jun,” Prince Jin Guangyao inspected the amber tea in front of him, “is Hanguang-jun out? I haven’t seen him today.”

“He is at our Frost-Laden Manor to pick up a few things and make sure the servants are properly upkeeping the estate.” Lan Xichen amicably smiled, “Does Your Highness wish to speak with him? I can pass on a message if needed.”

The prince shook his head lightly, “No need, just you is enough.”

Lan Xichen faltered in his movements, his tea sloshing around the side of the porcelain teacup before it rested into a stagnant pool. He exhaled sharply, “Your Highness flatters me.”

“Zewu-jun,” Lan Xichen saw that Prince Jin Guangyao’s voice lowered and his face grew more solemn, “I have something that I must ask you about.”

Lan Xichen dropped his small smile, “What is it?”

“I believe that we have located your hometown’s residence.”

Lan Xichen’s blood ran cold, but he kept up the innocent facade. He slowly lowered his teacup, watching the steam crawl up his hand, “Your Highness is thorough. Not even I know—”

“It was a small hut on the edge of Moling. Alongside the two unburied, adult skeletons were two swords,” Prince Jin Guangyao interrupted, “first-class spiritual weapons that protected itself from robbers. Sealed. Only the offspring can unsheathe the swords.”

Lan Xichen blinked, slowly letting out an exhale, “First-class spiritual weapons?”

The prince nodded, “They were quite ornate and powerful. The swordsmiths are long dead. However, just by looking at the design and craftsmanship of the swords, they are certainly best of the best, second to none.”

Lan Xichen watched as the prince leaned forward, “General Yin Xichen, are you really surnamed Yin?”

Lan Xichen remained vigilant, tuning his ears to the rustle of the bamboo forest just outside, “Of course, Your Highness.”

“Surely your parents must be renowned in the cultivation world to possess such great weapons. However, I cannot for the life of me think of any renowned cultivators surnamed Yin that matches your parents’ descriptions.”

“My parents were not renowned by any means.” Lan Xichen struggled to not stumble over his words, “Perhaps Your Highness has mistaken the bodies.”

“Then attempt to unsheathe the swords.”

At once, Prince Jin Guangyao waved his arm, and two servants holding the sheathed swords approached.

One was a cool blue with silver accents. Shining silver swirled around the handle and hilt. The blue parts looked to be made of a rare gemstone, shining with the glory of jade and the sturdiness of obsidian. When Lan Xichen scrutinized it closely, he could see the slight patterns of ink-like clouds swirling around the sheathe.

The other was as powerful of a presence but vastly different from the other. This one was monochromatic, featuring black and gray hues swirling like watercolor. The hilt was a snowy white, and its sharpened mounds seemed to emulate mountain peaks. The handle was pure, cold metal. It was a striking presence, different from the others’ cool presence.

Lan Xichen looked at Prince Jin Guangyao, whose face had gone cold as he gestured, “General.”

Lan Xichen took a deep breath, and finally extended his arm out as he stood.

He firmly grasped the blue and silver sword’s handle, squeezing it tightly as he pulled…

Nothing came out. The blade, supposedly beautiful if the sheathe was anything to go by, did not reveal itself. It was as if the hilt was glued to the opening of the sheathe.

Lan Xichen tried the other blade, noting the sparks of cold electricity that zapped into his palm as he pulled on the handle. As expected, the blade did not reveal itself.

He withdrew his hand and dipped his head coolly, “Your Highness, I’m sorry if my sparse descriptions have caused you to make an erroneous judgment.”

Prince Jin Guangyao looked rather surprised, expecting the blades to be a perfect match. So, he simply sighed and stood up as well, “The townspeople do not know the identities of the cultivators, and have made no attempt to gain ownership of their property. Seeing as these swords are of high quality, I think it would be fit to leave them with you, if that is alright, Zewu-jun.”

Lan Xichen gave a cordial smile, “I would be honored. If the offspring of these cultivators ever turn up, I will be sure to let Your Highness know.”

Prince Jin Guangyao gave a minimal farewell before he departed like a mosquito in winter. When Lan Xichen heard the clopping of the horse hooves fade away into the distance, he let out a sigh of relief.

From behind his back, he withdrew the yellow paper talisman. He crumpled it, and at once, his spiritual energy reflowed into his body.

Wei Wuxian had given him a few of these spiritual energy-sealing talismans for self-defense, should he find himself in a situation where he would need to temporarily seal one’s spiritual energy to gain an advantage.

Who knew that he would use it on himself to fool a prince.

“Father and Mother’s swords…”

Lan Wangji muttered to himself as he inspected the two sheathed swords on the desk in front of him.

Upon arriving back to the Rimefrost Villa, he had noticed the kicked-up dust in front of the gate, noting that someone notable had visited recently.

He hadn’t expected to see Lan Xichen holding two first-class spiritual weapons with a grim expression on his face.

Wei Wuxian scrutinized them, “If they are unsheathed, the sword glare will be too noticeable, and Lord Lian will know exactly who’s responsible. It’s a shame that you cannot use them too carelessly, but I suppose your Shuoyue and Bichen are just as good.”

Lan Wangji carefully half-unsheathed the blue and silver sword. At once, a bright white glow emanated from it, and he could feel powerful spiritual energy radiating from the precious blade. Etched into the pure white blade were two, bright blue characters: “Zhensi”, meaning “Authentic Death.”

Lan Xichen did the same with the black and gray sword, revealing a pitch black blade as dark as night. It too radiated authority and power, as if the wielder of this magnificent blade could easily cut down mountains and form canyons. Etched into its dark blade were two blood red characters: “Huansheng”, meaning “Illusory Life.”

While Zhensi radiated a heavenly glow, Huansheng seemed to brim with a dark fog that spilled from the sheathe and out into the room. The potent power of both swords was indeed something that only royalty could achieve in their swords, and it made sense why both remained untouched under the simple threat of robbers.

Wei Wuxian ran his fingers lightly over the sheathes of both swords, identifying the blue one as their father’s sword, with the black one as their mother’s. He racked his brain for their parents’ names, as none of the three could remember or knew, but he turned up blank. He promised that, should he see Baoshan Sanren once more, he would ask her.

Lan Xichen went on to explain that Prince Jin Guangyao had the skeletons buried in the backyard, complete with all of the funerary rites that parents of a palace official would receive. When Lan Xichen faked the swords not being his parents’, the prince couldn’t quite tear down the gravesite. So, at least for now, their parents had been buried properly after so many years of searching.

Lan Wangji sheathed Zhensi, and Lan Xichen did the same with Huansheng. Lan Wangji’s face seemed grim, “We were nearly discovered.”

Lan Xichen dipped his head, “Thanks to Young Master Wei’s talisman, the facade remains.”

Wei Wuxian beamed a smile of gratitude, and Lan Wangji continued, “This is only the first step. Lord Lian will continue taking more. We must reveal the scroll before anything can be done against us.”

“Do you suspect that Lord Lian still believes us to be the lost Lan descendants?”

Lan Wangji gave a firm shake of the head, “All records of the Lan Dynasty were burned by Wen Mao centuries ago. However, faking identities in Jinlintai is a crime punishable by death.”

Like clockwork, he turned around to face Wei Wuxian, “Treatment. Now.”

Wei Wuxian’s shoulders sank, “... all right.”

Lan Wangji hummed in approval.

Demonic yin energy was truly a fickle entity to grapple with.

It burned upon entry, and still burned upon exit. Whenever it coursed through his weakened meridians, it ignited a fiery river that scorched his body from the inside.

Even so, this was the only way he could stabilize the core. Everything that Baoshan Sanren gave him (or what little she gave him) had been used—the medicines, the spells, the techniques—and now it was up to him to make this sacrifice.

He nervously bit the inside of his cheek, trying to distract him from the thoughts that began to plague his mind.

Even if he dual cultivated, it would burn. Anything to deal with resentful energy would rack his entire body.

Today in particular was difficult to bear, as his yin energy was knotting and getting stuck within his meridians. He bit back cries, trying instead to focus on the warmth from Lan Wangji’s connection.

Every now and then, when Wei Wuxian rocked backwards, the tips of Lan Wangji’s fingers would brush against Wei Wuxian’s bare lower back, sending a series of electric chills up his spine. Every time, Lan Wangji would flinch backwards as if he had touched fire.

The afternoon glint shone through the paper windows. An hour had passed, and there was still one more to go.

But it was close, Wei Wuxian could feel it.

Lately, Wei Wuxian had been visiting Wen Qing about the surgery and its risks and procedures. Wen Qing, the best doctor of her generation, could still only give him a thirty percent chance, but that was enough.

It was enough.

”Wei Wuxian, not once have you cherished your life.”

Thirty percent was good enough, he had reiterated. Wen Qing kicked him out not long after.

Wei Wuxian laughed, and he heard the steely voice of Lan Wangji behind him, “What are you laughing about?”

“Nothing,” Wei Wuxian still smiled even as his laughter died down, “I just remembered something funny.”

Lan Wangji did not answer, and Wei Wuxian felt bored, “Zhan-er, can you say that you’ve lived a fulfilled life?”

“There are still many years to go.” Lan Wangji’s reply was as resolute as ever, “Not enough time to feel fulfilled.”

“Do you look forward to your second purpose in life?”

Lan Wangji did not answer for a long time, finally softly responding, “Yes.”

Wei Wuxian’s ears perked. He truly was only rambling nonsensical questions, and hadn't expected such an answer, “You know it already?”

“Mn.”

Wei Wuxian laughed, “Zhan-er, you’re right. There are still many years to go. There is alcohol I have to show you, and life lessons to teach you.”

“Alcohol is forbidden in the Rimefrost Villa,” was Lan Wangji’s chilly answer.

When the treatment ended, Wei Wuxian redressed and flipped around, “One jar! Gusu’s Emperor Smile is mellow and fragrant, with the texture of clouds and a warm feeling. You must try it.”

“Is it your favorite?”

“Second favorite.” Wei Wuxian pointed a finger to the sky, “The best liquor in the world is Yunmeng’s Hefeng Wine—concocted and brewed by yours truly!”

“Ridiculous.”

“Not! Here,” Wei Wuxian took out his qiankun pouch and surfaced two jars of Emperor’s Smile, “luckily I stocked up. Come on, have a taste.”

Lan Wangji grimaced, “No need.”

“There is always a need for good liquor. One cup. I’ll also drink a cup! Drinking alone is no fun, this is the first piece of life advice I’ll give you.”

Lan Wangji promptly stood and went to leave, but Wei Wuxian shot out a charm at him. He froze in his step without a sound.

Wei Wuxian, deviously grinning, went to wave a hand in front of his face, “Zhan-er?”

Without another beat, he walked Lan Wangji to the table and poured him a cup. With perfect posture, Lan Wangji downed the cup in one gulp.

Wei Wuxian dispelled the charm, “How is it? Hm?”

He half-expected Lan Wangji to unsheathe Bichen and slash him in half. However, he simply sat there, as if still under the effects of the charm.

Then, he fell forward until his forehead hit the table with a loud bam!

Wei Wuxian’s eyes shot open as he nervously poked Lan Wangji’s cheek, “Zhan-er…?”

He was still breathing and very much healthy, but he was out cold as if he were sleeping. Wei Wuxian hurriedly dragged him over to his bed, tucking him in and monitoring him.

“I thought you Lans were just uptight.” Wei Wuxian grumbled, “I didn’t think it was because you were such lightweights. Zhan-er, just one cup does you in?”

Wei Wuxian inspected Lan Wangji’s face, and found him to actually be quite pretty. His long eyelashes brushed against his clear, porcelain skin. There was no sign of facial hair or wrinkles on his sleeping, symmetrical face.

Wei Wuxian carefully pried his eyes open, finding that they were a pretty golden color. Lan Xichen’s eyes were a muted amber, Wei Wuxian remembered, a stark difference from his brother’s eyes.

When Wei Wuxian let go of his eyelids, he expected them to fall closed. However, they stayed open, and even moved.

Wei Wuxian jumped back, “Ahaha, sobered up? Zhan-er, tell me next time that you’re a lightweight, I really didn’t know!”

Lan Wangji said nothing, his eyes looking directly at Wei Wuxian. Upon further inspection though, they were glossed over and not quite focused on any one thing. Wei Wuxian waved his hand in front of his face, seeing that he only blinked the air out of his eyes without any other reaction.

Wei Wuxian cautiously approached the bed, “Zhan-er…?”

No response except for an incomprehensible murmur.

Wei Wuxian closed his eyelids for him.

Chapter 13: tomorrow's favorite lotus

Chapter Text

When Lan Wangji came to, it was late at night, almost early morning. His head buzzed—unused to the strange wakeup time.

Actually, now that he really woke up, his head was pounding. His thoughts were just barely coming together when he heard a groan from next to him.

A breeze sifted through the half-open windows, and it was then that Lan Wangji noticed that he was half-naked, only wearing pants. He shot his gaze down to the person laying underneath the blanket with him, noting the red ribbon and black under-robes.

He couldn’t remember anything from after the afternoon treatment with Wei Wuxian. A million thoughts raced into his head as he watched Wei Wuxian groan awake, “What’s all the fuss…”

Wei Wuxian was likely an active sleeper who tossed and turned, for his robes had been tussled open and hung loosely on his shoulders. Lan Wangji’s pristine vision got a peek of Wei Wuxian’s bare chest, and his breathing sped up as he averted his gaze.

Wei Wuxian slowly sat up, rubbing his lower back, “Ouch…”

Lan Wangji’s eyes wavered, “What are you doing in my bed?”

Wei Wuxian rubbed his eyes and yawned, “Ah, you’re awake now? Are you sober?”

“... sober?”

“Zhan-er, you should’ve told me that you can’t handle your liquor.” Wei Wuxian groaned, “You’re such a monster…”

“What are you talking about?” Lan Wangji began to internally panic, speaking quickly.

“Calm down…” Wei Wuxian paused as he looked around, and it seemed that he finally woke up, “ah! Zhan-er, it’s not what you think it is, really!”

“Then what is it?” Lan Wangji’s voice deepened, and Wei Wuxian panicked.

“We just drank a bit, and you passed out so I dragged you to your bed. But then when I was getting you some water to sober up, you started to pour water on your head! I don’t have any warming talismans on me, so I had to take off your robes to dry them. Your body temperature was also quite high, so I opened the window and let you sleep like this so you’d cool down.”

Wei Wuxian’s disposition shifted and he indignantly put his hands on his hips, “And then, you kept on rolling around and kicking your blanket off, after all the effort I put into tucking you in! So I stayed here to take care of you, and I guess I ended up falling asleep.”

Lan Wangji’s breathing stabilized, “... and that’s all that happened?”

“That’s all that happened!” Wei Wuxian pointed three fingers up to the sky and put his hand next to his head, “I promise on my name!”

Lan Wangji had bundled up most of the blankets into his hands as he pulled them up to cover his torso. He slowly let go, and Wei Wuxian went to fix his bed, “You’re awake and sober now though, right? It’s a little late for our usual schedule, but we should still do the nightly treatment.”

Lan Wangji grabbed a spare set of robes from his wardrobe, tightly bundling himself up as he went to close the windows. Wei Wuxian only had to take off his inner robes, leaving just his pants.

Positioning themselves how they always had, Lan Wangji began to channel his yang energy directly into Wei Wuxian’s lower back.

Ever since they increased the daily dosage, Lan Wangji began to notice that the area on Wei Wuxian’s lower back became more sensitive and was quite red. He ordered some medicines to reduce the inflammation, but the treatments didn’t help.

When Lan Wangji asked Wei Wuxian if there was any way to reduce the pressure put at that acupoint, the latter had only cheekily smiled, “What do you think?”

So Lan Wangji would always deny that alternative with reddened earlobes.

Near the end of the treatment, Wei Wuxian probed, “Zhan-er, do you know if your brother has a type?”

“A type?”

“In women.”

Lan Wangji pursed his lips, “Frivolous.”

“Zhan-er, this is very important. We talked about this before, and you didn’t give me an answer then, so I’m asking again to see if you’ve thought about it. After all, a beautiful empress and a happy marriage is the key to a prosperous dynasty.”

Lan Wangji lowered his eyelids, “We don’t talk about those kinds of things.”

“All right then,” Wei Wuxian huffed, “Zhan-er, I think I’ve figured out your type in women at the very least.”

Lan Wangji bristled, “What do you mean?”

Wei Wuxian chuckled, “Too uptight!”

Lan Wangji did not respond, and Wei Wuxian continued to ramble, “With how much of a stickler you are with rules, your lady cannot be too carefree or adventurous. With your low alcohol tolerance, she cannot drink either. You’re very handsome, so your wife must be beautiful to match. But, with how stiff you are, she cannot expect you to smile or laugh with her. At the same time, she should be a good cultivator so that the both of you can practice swordsmanship together.”

Lan Wangji frowned, and the tips of his fingers grazed against the sensitive spot. Wei Wuxian jolted upwards before scolding, “Zhan-er, you also have a temper! I suppose your wife cannot be the reactive kind or the type to call you out on your antics if this is how you respond!”

The treatment ended not long after, and as soon as the energy connection broke, Wei Wuxian turned around, “Just because you’re strong doesn’t mean you can bully others without expecting consequences! Let me tell you, Zhan-er, you can’t be like this with your future wife, or she’ll definitely run away from you and say nasty things about you!”

Wei Wuxian had not redressed himself in the flurry of scolds that he was throwing at Lan Wangji. So, his torso was bare and slightly illuminated by the moonlight that filtered through the paper windows. It was here that Lan Wangji noted that Wei Wuxian was actually quite fit and took good care of his body and muscle tone.

Wei Wuxian was still talking, “Look at you, you won’t even say sorry for teasing me!”

Lan Wangji blinked, “Teasing you?”

Wei Wuxian crossed his arms, “Yeah, teasing me! Was that not what you were doing earlier when you purposefully touched that sensitive spot? Don’t try to convince me that that was on accident—you were definitely having a childish temper tantrum just because I said a few facts—”

At once, Lan Wangji captured Wei Wuxian’s wrists, knocking him down onto the bed. Lan Wangji hovered over him, his long hair cascading down into a waterfall that framed Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian kicked, “Zhan-er, this again?! You can’t just do this every time someone says something you don’t like! Your wife will get the wrong idea!”

Lan Wangji tightened his grip on Wei Wuxian’s wrists, “My wife?”

“Yes, your wife!” Wei Wuxian pinched his brow, “You can’t just go around pinning whoever you please!”

Lan Wangji bit the inside of his cheek, not knowing what to say next. Wei Wuxian took this opportunity to kick one of his legs out, causing Lan Wangji to momentarily lose balance. Wei Wuxian snaked his way out once his wrists were free.

Wei Wuxian crawled to the opposite end of the bed from Lan Wangji, rubbing his wrists, “Look at them, they’re red again. If Zewu-jun walks in at this moment, he’ll definitely get the wrong idea.”

“Wrong idea?”

“Aiya, Zhan-er, why do you keep repeating what I’m saying?” Wei Wuxian huffed, “Did you get drunk again or something?”

Lan Wangji froze, and he quickly looked off to the side, refusing to make eye contact with Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian swiftly dressed himself and laid down, “I’m going to sleep. This is my bed, after all.”

At this, Lan Wangji promptly stood up. Without another word, he left.

When word got out that Prince Jin Zixuan—the crown prince and Emperor Qingling’s favored son—gave up the fight for the throne, Prince Jin Guangyao was the first to know, after his father of course.

This combined with the earlier news of Sect Leader Nie Mingjue’s sudden death by poison had thrown Jinlintai into an uproar.

Nie Huaisang took leave to claim his seat as the next Qinghe Nie Sect Leader and to tie up loose ends. When his funeral had ended and Nie Huaisang returned to Jinlintai, who knew that Prince Jin Zixuan would suddenly withdraw?

Prince Jin Guangyao was at the Dirt-Strewn Fortress, discussing his matters with Nie Huaisang when his servant, Fangrong, came barging in with the urgent message.

Emperor Qingling was, obviously, quite enraged with the sudden decision that Prince Jin Zixuan made without talking to him first. He did not explain his sudden change of heart, and instead knelt in front of the Blooming Garden for three days and three nights without rest to atone for his impudence.

Thus, the position of crown prince was empty, and the entire palace was expecting Prince Jin Guangyao to take it. After all, his marriage to Qin Su had already established a future empress to rule the Inner Palace—not to mention that she was quite suited for the role.

Of course, there was the crowd that was disappointed to learn that Jiang Yanli would not be the empress, even arguing that she may be more suited. There were some rumors floating around, however, that Jiang Yanli did not want to be an empress.

So, her and her husband’s ideologies aligned and worked out in the end—truly a couple made for each other.

Prince Jin Guangyao, however, was more focused on the sudden abdication. As far as he was aware, Prince Jin Zixuan was his most powerful and most prominent rival for the throne. His entire life had built up to him taking the seat of emperor, from his studies in imperial cultivation to the way he commanded his closest advisors.

Most of Jinlintai posited that he and Nie Mingjue were close, and so the death of the latter catalyzed the decision to leave. However, Prince Jin Zixuan denied the allegations rather quickly, saying that his decision to leave was his and his only, with no influence from external sources.

In other words, the abdication truly was puzzling. But, the prince refused to give the reason, saying that it was too difficult to say. Jiang Yanli was the same.

Director Jiang and the Jiang Sect was crushed to hear the news, but after a visit with Prince Jin Zixuan, their reaction mellowed and they eventually decided to keep quiet.

What Prince Jin Guangyao would give to listen in on their conversation.

Instead, he could only wrap things up with Nie Huaisang and rush back to his Fragrant Palace to prepare himself for what’s to come.

At this point, he was quite satisfied with the results, and was sure that the title of crown prince could become his. The other princes couldn’t hold a finger to him, and now that his biggest opponent had withdrawn from the battle, there was nothing to stand against him.

Of course, there was still Lan Xichen. General Yin, Zewu-jun. The titles floated around his head, an enigma he hadn’t quite solved.

Lan Wangji was much too stiff and shut-mouthed to give Prince Jin Guangyao the information he wanted, but Lan Xichen was too reserved with his words to give him what he wanted. As much as Prince Jin Guangyao wanted to believe that there was nothing important in their backgrounds that was worth looking into, he had this nagging feeling that there was a lie implanted somewhere.

He was so sure that the two swords he found would reveal them, but who knew that they were completely not a match? In his upsetness, he gave Lan Xichen the two swords and told him that he could keep them until the rightful owner came along to collect them.

Such precious swords, abandoned in a hut in Moling. It was quite tragic.

Once Prince Jin Guangyao became Emperor of China and Chief Cultivator, perhaps he could prod at them twin generals more, and finally weasel out the information that could satisfy him. Otherwise, he felt that he really would turn into a resentful ghost upon dying if he hadn’t performed the Soul-Calming Ceremony, forever seeking an answer.

He clenched his fists until his fingernails dug red crescents into his palm.

It didn’t matter. All that mattered now was that he had no rivals anymore.

The loss of a powerful puppet and Wei Wuxian’s looming presence in Jinlintai was nothing now. While it hampered his plans, it was hardly a substantial blow against him.

“Fangrong.”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Escort me to the Dragon Gate Prison.” Prince Jin Guangyao’s face was as cold as iron, “No entourage. Do not announce my presence.”

The next morning, Wei Wuxian woke up with a sore back.

Since the dosages increased, the strain on his body had also increased. Luckily, he hadn’t needed to fight or put any more strain on his body beyond the usual flying around.

So, while he laid in the pebbled courtyard outside, he stared up at the morning sky and thought.

If there was a ballad roaming around, who wrote it?

He got up quickly. Of everyone who knew about Prince Jin Zixuan’s withdrawal from the fight, only the Jiangs were aware of the reason and chose not to publicize it.

It didn’t take very long for him to find the Lakeside Manor again, frantically searching around for either Jiang.

“A-Xian?”

Wei Wuxian whipped around, finding Jiang Yanli standing in one of the veranda walkways. He leapt over the mahogany banister and gently clasped her by her upper arms, “Shi-jie, what happened with that Prince Jin Zixuan?”

Jiang Yanli looked to be at odds, and after some time, she quietly responded, “He heard a song in Gusu, about how ascending to the throne was inauspicious and would result in bloodshed…”

Wei Wuxian confirmed his suspicions about why he withdrew from the fight, but after asking a few questions, he found that Prince Jin Zixuan did not know the poet nor even the city of origin. He only gathered that the ballad was much longer than the few verses he knew of.

Jiang Yanli recited a paraphrased version of the ballad that Prince Jin Zixuan had carefully told her about. When she saw Wei Wuxian’s solemn face, she asked, “A-Xian, what’s going on? This sort of ballad…”

Jiang Cheng approached from the nearby courtyard, taken aback, “Wei Wuxian?”

Wei Wuxian ignored him and closed his eyes for a moment, “It’s good… it’s good that he withdrew from the fight. But I cannot guarantee that he’s safe.”

“What are you talking about?” Jiang Yanli probed, “Is Zixuan in danger?”

“Lord Lian is plotting something.” Wei Wuxian spoke on barely-substantiated theories, weaving around the point of his involvement, “I’m afraid that when the time comes, Jinlintai will be the most dangerous place to be.”

Jiang Cheng grabbed Wei Wuxian’s wrist, “Wei Wuxian, don’t tell me you’re getting involved in all of this!”

Wei Wuxian steeled himself, “I have no choice. You know why. There’s a part I have to play in all of this.”

“A-Xian!” Jiang Yanli cried out.

“When the time comes, make Lord Chun take you and Jiang Cheng away. Go to Lanling, Yunmeng, Meishan—anywhere but Gusu.” He looked at Jiang Cheng, “I’ll send you a cue.”

Jiang Cheng knitted his brows, “Wei Wuxian, you keep running off by yourself—when are you going to let us help you?”

“This isn’t something you can help with!” Wei Wuxian shot back, “Your main priority is keeping shi-jie and Lord Chun safe—that’s already enough on your plates!”

Jiang Yanli withdrew her hand, but Jiang Cheng remained fixed onto his wrist. Jiang Yanli’s eyes darted back and forth, “A-Xian, you have to stay safe.”

Jiang Cheng’s head whipped around to face her, “A-Jie!”

“You have to stay safe!” Jiang Yanli demanded, raising her voice, “Wei Wuxian—Wei Ying—you have to come back!”

Jiang Cheng promptly let go of Wei Wuxian, not wanting to say another word. After a while, he finally spoke, “Wei Wuxian, what’s going to happen?”

Wei Wuxian shook his head, “I don’t know.”

He didn’t want to tell them.

Jiang Cheng raged, “If you don’t know, why send us away so recklessly like this?! If something were to happen, how can you guarantee that the twin generals will be adequate enough to protect you? Not only must they protect themselves, but once everything is revealed, the entirety of Jinlintai will be at your throat!”

“Hanguang-jun alone is enough.” Wei Wuxian bit back, “Don’t underestimate them. They are the god-ordained heirs for a reason.”

“And are you a prophet? Even the likes of Hanguang-jun have their limits—they are far from immortals!”

“Jiang Cheng, you need to believe me.” Wei Wuxian gritted his teeth, “If you and shi-jie stayed, I cannot guarantee either of yours’ safety. Uncle Jiang and Madam Yu ordered me to keep the both of you safe even if it costs me my life—I’m not about to break that promise.”

At the sound of his parents, Jiang Cheng fell quiet. Jiang Yanli was still upset, “A-Xian.”

“Yes?”

“I have supplements.” She spoke slowly, “Supplements and enhancement medicines. Take them, if nothing else.”

Wei Wuxian gave a firm nod. This he could take.

“But you have to stay safe.” She pleaded with a resolute face, “You have to.”

Wei Wuxian, with a painful pang in his chest, nodded again.

Xue Yang was kept in a special cell—detached from the main row and guarded by a soldier specially appointed and trained by Prince Jin Guangyao himself.

The only two people allowed to enter were Emperor Qingling, out of authority, and Prince Jin Guangyao, who was credited for his capture.

Naturally, Xue Yang didn’t care who visited him. After all, his cell was so heavily fortified, but he lived a relatively lavish life. Despite the rumors, his guard, Xuefeng, did not dare lay a hand on him unless one of the royals ordered him to. Even so, he dared not to provoke him any further than what was necessary to keep his job.

After all, Xue Yang was allowed to keep his sword Jiangzai under Prince Jin Guangyao’s grace, just as long as he agreed to answer whatever questions the prince had for him. Who dared to enter his cell so recklessly?

Being guarded and given adequate food with little external strife to deal with—it really was the best place to be in all of Jinlintai, even Gusu!

He heard the door to his secluded area open, and immediately threw Jiangzai in the direction of the sound. Xuefeng jolted, but did not turn his head.

Prince Jin Guangyao stood in front of Jiangzai with an icy stare, watching the wards of the cell prevent the sword from slipping past the iron bars, “Xue Yang, you become bolder every day.”

Xue Yang used his spiritual energy to summon Jiangzai back, watching the translucent golden ward ripple back in invisibility, “Sorry, Your Highness—it’s an instinct of mine. Xuefeng can attest, hm?”

Xuefeng did not pay him any heed, but dipped his head, “Your Highness.”

Prince Jin Guangyao held his head high as always, “I have given you all of the materials you requested. Is it ready?”

Xue Yang grinned, his fangs glinting in the dim candlelight, “Who would I be if I cannot make something this simple?”

Xue Yang tossed a paper packet through the iron bars, watching Prince Jin Guangyao momentarily pierce a hole in the ward for it to slip out. Xue Yang languidly leaned back against the rough brick wall, “Your Highness, aren’t you afraid that I’ll one day send Jiangzai through that hole?”

“No.”

“And why’s that?”

Prince Jin Guangyao’s face was devoid of the cordial smiles he wore in public, and a shadow cast over his face as he tilted his head, “Xue Yang, I’m the only reason you’re alive.”

Xue Yang smiled, “So is Wei Wuxian.”

Prince Jin Guangyao’s disposition shifted, “The Yiling Patriarch saved you?”

“That’s right.”

“Explain.”

Xue Yang looked off to the side, “He took the Chang Sect’s Yin Iron before I got there. So instead of wasting my time searching for it, I killed the whole lot and ran. If I had ransacked their treasury, that Xiao Xingchen would’ve found me.”

“Yin Iron.”

“Mhm. Product of my ancestor.” Xue Yang leaned forward, “What, thinking of grabbing it once you catch that guy? Forget about it. The Yiling Patriarch earned his name—not bought it.”

“I fail to see how him being the Patriarch of Yiling has anything to do with demonic cultivation. Is he not just a demonic cultivator with a title?”

“Your Highness, Jinlintai has not taught you well in this subject.” Xue Yang tilted his head, “Wei Wuxian isn’t just a demonic cultivator—he’s the great grandmaster of demonic cultivation, founder of all things resentful. Do you know why His Majesty forbids his inventions from entering Jinlintai?”

“Because they are resentful in nature, of course.”

“That’s not the only thing. It’s because the Yiling Patriarch is drawn to all things resentful. If he is lured into Jinlintai, I’m afraid there is none who is a match for him.”

“It is rare to hear you praise another so passionately.” Prince Jin Guangyao raised his eyebrows in awe.

Xue Yang laughed, “Your Highness, I am just a simple demonic cultivator. Have you seen his victims? If anyone crosses him, they’re bound to have their flesh peeled layer by layer—that’s not something I look forward to.” He paused before adding, “Your Highness should be careful before you stoke the fire.”

Prince Jin Guangyao had nothing more to say, and with a curt farewell, he promptly left the room.

Xue Yang looked at the ground in front of the cell, “Yiling Patriarch, if you stand in the light, I’m afraid that the darkness will reveal you.”

There was no answer. Xuefeng shifted nervously but ended up saying nothing. Xue Yang only laughed, watching the shadow cut across the faint orange candlelight that fell onto the dark floor.

Eventually, the shadow on the floor moved into the surrounding shadows and disappeared.

Chapter 14: approaching a river of ice

Chapter Text

“Lord Lian plans to assassinate Emperor Qingling.”

The words rang in Lan Xichen’s head, bouncing around like a reverberating sound that couldn’t leave.

He stood up from his desk, “Young Master Wei, what did you just say?”

“Lord Lian, Prince Jin Guangyao,” Wei Wuxian reiterated slowly, “plans to assassinate His Majesty Emperor Qingling.”

Lan Wangji stepped forward, “How are you sure?”

“I passed by him. He looked rather rushed and had no entourage besides his servant Fangrong, so I followed them to the Dragon Gate Prison.” Wei Wuxian reported with full confidence, “There, he talked to Xue Yang, who gave Lord Lian a paper packet filled with something that he had made.”

“Are you sure it’s poison?”

Wei Wuxian shook his head, “No, but if it’s from Xue Yang, it can’t be anything good.”

“And his target is the emperor?”

“It’s only a guess, but it’s a guess that makes the most sense. No other prince is contending with him at the moment, but that can change. Prince Jin Xuanyu is beginning to make his moves, but he isn’t prominent enough for Lord Lian to pay him any heed. He has no grudge against any palace official, and even if he did, he would not seek Xue Yang for help,” Wei Wuxian reasoned, “unless he could not risk his target not dying.”

Lan Xichen bit the inside of his cheek, “Lord Lian isn’t…”

When he trailed off, Wei Wuxian spoke, “Zewu-jun, I know you are close with him. However, one cannot associate with evil. It is both a Lan doctrine and a fact of life.”

Lan Xichen thought he was quite hypocritical, eyeing Wei Wuxian’s pitch black Chenqing. But he bit back his remarks, “I know, but is there any proof of your words?”

Wei Wuxian quickly replied, “No. You only have my word.”

“How can I expect to believe you then?”

Lan Wangji’s face was grim, “Brother.”

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen closed his eyes, “this is a very serious accusation. Without proof, there is nothing we can do. Between Lord Lian and us, it is obvious who His Majesty will believe.”

“If I can procure the packet from the Fragrant Palace, and allow you to inspect its contents, would you be satisfied?”

Lan Xichen did not answer, and Wei Wuxian shook his head, “No, we don’t know what Lord Lian’s plans are for the packet. If we were to take it and he were to find out, I’m afraid that the consequences would be severe.”

Lan Wangji tilted his head, “How so?”

“He already suspects the both of you of harboring me, and after I took Wen Ning, I’m confident that he will pin the blame on me immediately.”

Lan Xichen knitted his brows and looked down, “You overheard?”

Lan Wangji looked at Lan Xichen, and the latter turned to explain, “The day the two of you left for Gusu, he visited to express his suspicions. While you were gone, he came back with men to search the villa. Naturally, he could not find a trace of you, but it didn’t douse his suspicion.”

Lan Wangji opened his mouth as if to say something, but Lan Xichen interjected, “I only told you now because I didn’t want it to affect Young Master Wei’s mission. However, it seems that he found out for himself.”

Wei Wuxian sighed, “Regardless of whether or not he suspects you, you will eventually be his target once the scroll is extracted. It’s better to get used to it now.”

Lan Xichen lowered his eyelids, remembering Lord Lian’s amiable smiles.

He couldn’t accept it, even if the deductions made sense at the moment.

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian departed for treatment after telling Lan Xichen that the event was fast approaching. If he had any reservations with the situation, he was urged to tell them immediately so they could account for it.

Lan Xichen rubbed his temples. Given everything revealed to him, he wasn’t quite sure if he could look at Prince Jin Guangyao’s face anymore.

But if he were to turn down his visitation requests, Lan Xichen was afraid that he would suspect them even more.

“Lord Lian may frame Prince Jin Xuanyu.”

Wei Wuxian turned his head to the side at the sound of Lan Wangji’s statement, “Why do you think so?”

“If it is poison, then all foodstuffs will be thoroughly checked for poison right before they enter His Majesty’s mouth.” Lan Wangji coolly explained, “Except for products gifted by princes.”

Wei Wuxian nodded in understanding, “That’s right. Looking through Huaisang’s logbook, Prince Jin Xuanyu has been ordering regular shipments of tea leaves to the Blooming Garden. Lord Lian does not—furthermore, the poison can be traced back to his name being tied to the shipment.”

“But if he drugged Prince Jin Xuanyu’s shipment of tea instead,” Lan Wangji added, “he eliminates competition.”

“Prince Jin Xuanyu will likely be executed. With no official crown prince, Lord Lian will become emperor by advisor appointment. Even if the other princes figure it out, they won’t be able to make any moves against him.” Wei Wuxian shook his head in partial awe, “Good job Lord Lian, how ruthless!”

“If we intervene with the scroll at this time, Emperor Qingling and Lord Lian will be our largest threats.” Lan Wangji went silent after this statement.

Wei Wuxian voiced what he was afraid to say, “If we allow Lord Lian to poison His Majesty, it eliminates one opposing front.”

Lan Wangji whipped his head up, “Treasonous.”

“This entire mission is treasonous!” Wei Wuxian shot back, “Even so, it is Lord Lian who is plotting this—he holds the highest magnitude of treason among all of us. We aren’t supposed to know.”

Lan Wangji said nothing, only continuing to send more yang energy into Wei Wuxian’s lower back.

Wei Wuxian sighed, “The best time to reveal the scroll will have to be when all animosity becomes directed at Lord Lian. Right now, he has too many advisors vouching for him. Even if you and your brother have accrued enough merits, it’s nothing compared to a prince.”

“His plot must be exposed, and his reputation ruined.” Lan Wangji shook his head, “Lord Lian’s defenses are iron-clad.”

“Not entirely.” Wei Wuxian tilted his head, “Say, wasn’t Xue Yang said to have been executed via a thousand cuts? But looking at him, he’s quite healthy—he still has his sword and can even aim it at Lord Lian without repercussions.”

Wei Wuxian suddenly perked up, “Xue Yang’s entire existence discredits both Emperor Qingling and Prince Jin Guangyao.”

Lan Wangji thought for a moment, “Both attested to his death. However, Xue Yang cannot be trusted.”

Wei Wuxian was quiet for a moment, “You’re right. Even if we announced that he was still alive, they would make some excuse as to why he was left alive for a time being, and Xue Yang would corroborate it.”

Wei Wuxian slumped over with a groan, “Every solution we think of gets knocked down with just a few seconds of thinking. Zhan-er, why couldn’t you have been a Jin prince or something? That would be so much easier.”

He thought for a while and then shook his head, “No, ‘Yin Wangji’ sounds unsuitable enough. ‘Jin Wangji’ sounds worse.” He shuddered at the thought.

Once again, they were at a loss. Wei Wuxian looked off to the side, peeking past the slit in the paper window next to the bed.

He smiled, “Zhan-er, look, it’s a butterfly. You never see these at this elevation.”

At first, he thought it was a golden messenger butterfly—the Jin Sect’s signature spell. However, it did not glow, and in fact looked like an ordinary butterfly.

Wei Wuxian leaned in closer, “Now how did you get up here, little butterfly?”

The butterfly fluttered away as Wei Wuxian spoke, the small flaps fading away. Wei Wuxian leaned away from the window with a thoughtful expression, “How strange.”

“What’s strange?”

“The butterfly looked small and delicate, but by the sound of its flaps, its wings were quite heavy or held more power than normal butterflies.”

“If it is strong enough to live at this elevation, then it is no normal butterfly.”

Wei Wuxian beamed, “You’re right, Zhan-er. It is no normal butterfly, just as you’re no normal man.”

Lan Wangji did not reply, likely because of the sudden transition in topics. Wei Wuxian continued, “Just how your wife cannot be any normal lady.”

“Why are you so fixated on my love life?”

“Because it’s quite fun to think about—a Madam Lan. With how you are, I bet you have no experience: I fear that you may scare off your future wife.”

“Experience?”

“Mhm! I’ve got a lot of experience myself.” Wei Wuxian proudly grinned as he pointed at himself with a thumb.

Lan Wangji fell silent as he withdrew the connection, “I will play ‘Purification’.”

“That’s right,” Wei Wuxian corked up the vial of pure yin energy and deposited it in his qiankun pouch before languidly laying down on his bed, lifting up only his head, “your wife needs to be adept in musical arts as well. Shall I find a pretty pipa player for you? Or do you prefer guqin, same as you?”

“No more talking.”

“Hmph.” Wei Wuxian laid his head back down. After a few seconds, he shot back up and took out Chenqing, “I’m suddenly in a good mood today, Zhan-er. I know the flute score—I’ll play with you.”

Lan Wangji did not say anything against it, and when Wei Wuxian found an opening, he subtly inserted himself into the score.

Lan Wangji shifted to a harmony version of his score to accompany Wei Wuxian’s flute. The notes floated together like a calm stream.

After the performance, Wei Wuxian did indeed feel much lighter as usual. His fingertips were pink from pressing the notes, and he rubbed them together to itch them.

Wei Wuxian glanced at Lan Wangji’s hands. As expected, they were basically unblemished, with long, slender fingers. When they bent, he could see the bones jutting just underneath the skin, but he could not say with confidence that they were bony hands. There was healthy life drumming underneath the skin and between the calluses on his fingers.

The calluses on Lan Wangji’s fingertips shone in the afternoon sunlight. His fingernails were neatly trimmed in perfect white crescents, with no sign of hangnails.

“They really are pretty hands…” Wei Wuxian murmured in a daze.

Lan Wangji looked up at him from his sitting position, and Wei Wuxian quickly shook his head, “I didn’t say anything!”

Lan Wangji did not seem to believe him, but he did not press on the matter.

The matter of the Ballad of Guanyin’s Tears was not entirely solved.

Wei Wuxian had done some digging around in Gusu, eventually unearthing two valuable pieces of information.

The first was the entire ballad, all thirteen verses in order. It told a tale of the Scroll of Guanyin’s making and its descent into Yiling, how a messenger from that city traveled to various cities before finally delivering the scroll to the rightful Son of Heaven. Wei Wuxian noted with some grimness that the various cities mentioned were cities where Yin Iron was found, with even the sword Xuanwu mentioned.

The second was that it originated from Gusu. Although it was widespread by now, all traces led back to Gusu, but not to any one specific establishment or person. It seemed that the dirt trail was trampled, for everyone who had heard of the ballad had traced it back into a tree, with multiple branches representing multiple sources. Only a few people had the luxury to know the entire ballad—most only knew one or two verses.

However, Wei Wuxian remembered that Baoshan Sanren never once mentioned such a ballad. The matter of the Scroll of Guanyin was meant to be kept a secret, so as to not bring too much attention to the scroll’s whereabouts until it was ready to be revealed.

Now, however, this enigmatic ballad had exposed the item to the entire world—and all of Jinlintai was searching for it.

It soon became known, in the next few weeks, that Prince Jin Zixuan smartly withdrew from the fight for the throne. It was known as the Prince of Peace, the Lord of Longevity, and other rather funny titles.

Later, when Prince Jin Guangyao made no move to withdraw from the fight, all saw him as opportunistic and also somewhat smart. After all, there still had to be an heir to the throne. So, he was known as the Immovable Lord, among other similar names.

Wei Wuxian thought it really was quite funny. Best he got was Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation. Really? He was hardly a grandmaster, more of an innovator. Though, he supposed that maybe he was being too humble.

Lan Wangji didn’t find it as humorous as he did.

Regardless, Wei Wuxian didn’t bear this news with a smile on his face.

As expected, Emperor Qingling made fewer and fewer public appearances due to an illness. Prince Jin Xuanyu only made more and more shipments of various teas to aid him, but all was futile.

Prince Jin Guangyao, in the meantime, made more visits to his mother, Consort Meng. Wei Wuxian found nothing out of the ordinary—cordial visits bearing gifts, talking of his studies, discussing the politics of the Inner Palace with great caution. After all, matters of the Inner Palace were delegated to the imperial consorts, and matters outside were to be kept within the princes.

Even so, it wasn’t like anyone was going to go against the newly crowned crown prince, nor his mother.

From what Wei Wuxian gathered from peripheral servants, this was not the case several years ago.

In fact, Consort Meng was actually a low-level concubine among a multitude of others, and she had been that way for many years. It wasn’t until Lord Lian had turned out to be a powerhouse pivotal during the Sunshot Campaign that their statuses skyrocketed together. Concubine Meng quickly became a favored Consort Meng, just as Prince Jin Guangyao elevated to Lord Lian.

Not everyone liked this sudden rapid change in the hierarchy, as most looked down on Consort Meng before everything. There was talk among servants saying how Consort Meng was really no one special, and she only became this way because of her son’s extraordinary luck.

Naturally, all of this was said in secret, away from those who may snitch on them for some extra reward money. Wei Wuxian’s invisibility truly did come in handy.

When he told all of this to Lan Wangji, the latter was not surprised. After all, he himself watched Lord Lian’s swift promotion, and just like everyone else, felt as if the prince had struck gold with his sparse but pivotal moments in the Sunshot Campaign. Not even Lord Chun was as lucky within his entire lifetime.

To this sentiment, Wei Wuxian declined, saying that being married to Jiang Yanli was the best treasure anyone could receive, and for Lord Chun to have been the recipient, his luck must rival gods’.

In the few weeks that had passed, Wei Wuxian internally inspected the scroll, and finally gave a solemn nod to Lan Wangji.

“It’s ready. We just need to formulate a plan, and formulate it quickly.”

Wen Qing spent her days in the Frost-Laden Manor doing two things: making medicines and nervously pacing.

Wen Ning had woken up, and with Wei Wuxian’s indirect help, he had managed to make a half-recovery. While he was conscious and able to move around with little difficulty, his already-debilitated spiritual energy was even more damaged by the Spirit Lure Flag. He was more susceptible to resentful energy now, and needed a whole laundry list of prevention methods for him to lead a normal life every day.

But that was nothing to Wen Qing. She was just happy that he was alive.

With her medicines and a pseudonym, she went out into Gusu to sell them. With the money, she bought more supplies and could provide her own food and water. Although the Lans were generous enough to cover all financial matters, she felt that it wasn’t enough for the risks they had taken in helping them.

Wen Qing was grinding down a poultice when a servant approached her cautiously, “Lady Xie, a letter arrived.”

Wen Qing still had to get used to the new name, but she put down the grinder and accepted the envelope from the servant’s hands. With a dip of her head, she allowed the servant to leave before she opened the letter.

A whiff of sandalwood emanated from the letter—a sign that it originated from the Rimefrost Villa. She bit the corner of her bottom lip nervously as she opened the letter:

She put the letter down, staring at the two words, the three-character phrase that she had been dreading.

Wen Ning entered with a pot of steaming medicine, the melody of herbs mixing in the air, “Jie, what’s that?”

Wen Qing closed the letter and slipped it back into the envelope, “A request.”

Wen Ning glanced at the envelope, seeing that it was made with high-quality paper and was even decorated, “From Jinlintai?”

Wen Qing hesitated before she nodded. Wen Ning perked up as he placed the pot down, “Is it to treat His Majesty the emperor?”

Wen Qing quickly shook her head, and Wen Ning tilted his head in partial confusion, “Who is the patient?”

Wen Qing did not want to answer, instead standing up and taking Wen Ning’s hands into her own. His hands were warmed from the pot, but she could sense that they were quite cold inside, nearly devoid of warmth.

“You absolutely cannot follow me to Jinlintai.” Wen Qing ordered, “You need to stay here. Take care of the people and things here.”

“Jie, what’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Wen Qing shook her head, “A-Ning, do you promise me?”

Wen Ning quickly nodded. In his eyes was a still-burning curiosity, doused even with Wen Qing’s harsh rejection. Even so, Wen Ning was smart enough not to press.

She patted Wen Ning’s head carefully, “Good. You must stay here without leaving unless something happens. If anything happens, you cannot find me, nor can you seek help from anyone in Jinlintai. Take the people and hide somewhere until it is safe. Do not worry about the medicines: medicine can be recreated, people cannot.”

She faltered near the end of her statement, hearing her pulse in her ear. Wen Ning nodded again, “Are you leaving now?”

Wen Qing’s shoulders sank, “In the next few hours. I have everything packed up already, I just need to finish tying up some loose ends around here before I go.”

Thirty percent. Wen Qing bit the inside of her cheek.

Wen Ning lowered his head, “Stay safe, Jie.”

Wen Qing sharply inhaled, but no words left her mouth. She straightened Wen Ning’s robes and patted out the wrinkles. Then, she stepped forward to envelope him in a hug. Her fingers dug into the back of his robes as she buried her face into his shoulder.

Wen Ning was stiff as usual, awkwardly placing his hands around her to reciprocate it. Wen Qing could only croak out, “A-Ning, be good and stay safe, be good and stay safe…”

They finally broke from the hug, and when Wen Qing picked up her belongings, she stared at the envelope from earlier.

She picked it up and took the thin sheet of paper out from within it. As she held it up, she noticed that the back of the letter also contained words. When she carefully turned it around, there was a longer message on the back.

Wen Qing’s hands quaked as she comprehended the small request on the back of the letter, stuffing it back into the envelope. The candle on the nearby shelf burned a fiery blaze as she held the envelope up to it.

When it was reduced to ashes, she wiped his fingers, but noticed that the black ash only left streaks on her fingers, staining her fingers every time she tried to wipe it off.

She gritted her teeth and clenched the ash into her palm before storming out of the room.

Chapter 15: his sun-shunned path to light

Chapter Text

Baoshan Sanren couldn’t recall something that she cherished.

In her life, she made many friends, encountered many enemies, and collected many artifacts. However, these friends often died, the enemies never persisted, and the artifacts had eventually lost their momentary value and could only be given back to the mortal world as a relic of the past.

She couldn’t even remember how old she was. Her body maintained the same look she had when she achieved immortality—a young adult who looked as if she still had many journeys to embark upon.

When in fact, she had gone down every path she could, and was quite bored of life and its endless pieces of advice that meant little to her.

After all, life was meant to be temporary. Immortality was a curse—the price for being too greedy.

She watched Jinlintai from her protective bubble, watching every little motion and movement. When Wei Wuxian had given a firm nod to Lan Wangji, Baoshan Sanren knew that the tides of Gusu would change in the next few days.

For a bored wandering immortal, such a show was not easy to come by within the next few hundred years.

From the eaves of Jinlintai’s central square, Baoshan Sanren held her sword Yongwang steady.

She saw how the Cloud Recesses had changed, into the Nightless City and then into Jinlintai. It was in this square where she faced off with Lan Yi about Yin Iron, this unrecognizable area of brick and stone.

It had been hundreds of years since then. Lan Yi was no more, and the days where the name Wen Mao had not made the history books had faded into oblivion.

Wen Mao. What a fickle name that was, slipping around in her memory and threatening to be forgotten. But somehow it clung to her, like an indignant fierce ghost haunting her wherever she went.

It had been so long since she stepped into the mortal world, a place more ruined than she had thought.

This was where her disciples made their home? She shook her head before she stilled.

Perhaps it was because it was ruined, that her disciples could not help but return.

Wei Wuxian nervously anticipated the next few days.

He had an anxious conversation with Lan Wangji, finally learning that their bedchambers—where the operation was to take place, was called the Quiet Room.

“Good for you, Zhan-er!” Wei Wuxian had exclaimed, “It’s been so long, and you finally let me know what this place is called.”

“You never asked.”

Wei Wuxian responded with a hearty bout of laughter.

It was dusk when Wen Qing had arrived, sour-faced but with no travel difficulties. Under the pseudonym Physician Xie, she was able to slip into the Rimefrost Villa as the twin generals’ personal physician from their Frost-Laden Manor.

Wei Wuxian had commended her on her disguise charm, but Wen Qing paid it no heed, “Are you sure?”

Wei Wuxian’s smile dropped, and he gave a firm nod.

“I expected you to want to bar Jiang Cheng, or your older martial sister.” Wen Qing shook her head, “But Lan Wangji?”

“Zhan-er is very stubborn, the Jiangs can be talked to at least. Besides, I’ve asked Lord Chun to send them away. They’re currently hiding out with their grandmother in Meishan.”

Lan Wangji entered not long after Wei Wuxian finished talking. The latter shot Wen Qing a glance, and she relented with a dip of the head.

“Ah, Zhan-er,” Wei Wuxian turned to face him, “there’s a small detail I forgot to tell you about.”

Lan Wangji shifted his feet, “What is it?”

“The Scroll of Guanyin is an artifact from the gods, as I’ve told you. What I didn’t tell you, is that once it is extracted, the entirety of Gusu will know…”

Lan Wangji knitted his brows, and Wei Wuxian threw up his hands, “They like to be flashy! What I’m getting at is that you’re going to need to guard this room—and no matter what you hear, you must not enter the Quiet Room until Wen Qing comes out. I trust that you can handle it?”

Lan Xichen entered as Wei Wuxian spoke, and he gave a cordial smile, “I’ve managed to send out all of the troops to the borders of Gusu, if not further. It should buy Lady Wen enough time to extract it.” But he shook his head, “However, the court is full of capable cultivators, and there’s nothing we can do about them.”

Wei Wuxian dipped his head, “I did some poking around—even the advisors are skeptical of the emperor’s abilities. However, I cannot say the same for Lord Lian. We can only hope that any evidence procured will be enough to buy us time to reform the palace.”

Lan Wangji turned his head towards the small pot on the nearby shelf, seeing that the new incense stick that was placed inside had burned down completely, “It’s time.”

But before anyone moved, Wei Wuxian called out, “Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji perked up, and Wei Wuxian gave a small smile, “No, Your Imperial Brother. Wei Wuxian wishes you and His Majesty a prosperous dynasty.”

Wei Wuxian performed a ninety-degree reverent bow as Wen Qing went to close the doors. Before she fully closed them, she looked at Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen with conviction, “Remember, you cannot enter while the operation is being performed.”

Lan Xichen dipped his head as an affirmative, while Lan Wangji hesitated before doing so.

When the doors closed and the Quiet Room was enveloped in shadow, Wen Qing skillfully lit all of the candles inside with a swipe of her hand. With another swipe, she erected a silencing barrier.

Encased in the golden glow of the candles and the dusk light that filtered through the paper windows, Wen Qing stiffly faced Wei Wuxian.

“Are you sure about this? It’s not too late to back out.”

Wei Wuxian shook his head, “I am sure. Wen Qing, I entrust my life and mission to you.”

“You didn’t tell them, did you?”

He bowed with a grim face, and as he did, he noticed that his knees were about to buckle, and his arms trembled uncontrollably.

He had done a similar procedure once before, he recalled as the scar on his stomach—one he hid with a charm—began to burn with anticipation.

While the chances this time were lower, and the scroll’s current form was weaker than the average golden core, Wei Wuxian could only hope that the gods could favor him just this once in his life.

If there was nothing that he could be granted in accordance with the sins he committed in this life, he only wished that the operation would be successful for the sake of the Lan brothers.

When the doors closed, Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen were left alone in the Rimefrost Villa.

Not long ago, they had sent every villa servant out of Jinlintai via teleportation talismans, ordering them not to leave until either Lan brother paid them a visit and specifically told them that it was safe to return.

Of course, they were clueless as to why they were suddenly sent away, and knelt, crying about how they would rectify any mistakes they made with their lives. Lan Xichen had hurriedly gotten them to stand up, reassuring them that they did nothing wrong. Vaguely, he had told them that the villa would not be safe, and to listen to only their orders, not anyone else’s.

When they left, every lantern was extinguished, engulfing the Rimefrost Villa in darkness as the dusk faded into night.

Lan Wangji held a sheathed Bichen tightly in one hand, ears perked for any sign of movement. The wind was nearly nonexistent at this time, and there was a silencing barrier placed around the Quiet Room.

However, no simple silencing barrier could prevent the Scroll of Guanyin. Only a few minutes after the doors had closed at the villa had gone quiet, a golden glow emanated from the Quiet Room, and a piercing cry erupted from within.

It was here that Lan Wangji recalled a verse from the ballad:

A thousand miles and a thousand deaths
enshrined in golden light does he finally
reveal the Scroll of Guanyin—
tears shed for far too long, knees bled for a distance.

All of Jinlintai had fixated on this, as it was the verse that signified when the scroll would be revealed. From idle chatter, Wei Wuxian had deduced that they were all waiting for such a signal.

Meaning, this growing source of light just became a bait and a trap.

Lan Wangji immediately went to barge inside, but Lan Xichen held him back, “Don’t. If we intervene, everything will be for naught!”

Lan Wangji steeled himself, stepping back and away. Another one of Wei Wuxian’s screams echoed throughout the villa before a bright golden beam of light shot from the roof of the Quiet Room. Although the structure was not damaged, the rushing waves of light illuminated the entire area.

Lan Wangji, for the first time in a long time, panicked. There was a beacon announcing them and their location, a beam of light that reached up past the clouds and did not cease. No amount of charms or spells could even detour the light, much less prevent it from being seen.

It was then that he realized that neither Wei Wuxian nor Wen Qing told Lan Wangji any details about the operation—only that it would be extracted from his body.

Lan Wangji could only send out a few shielding spells to encompass the Quiet Room. With one swipe of his hand, he unsheathed Bichen, allowing its piercing sword glare to cut through the twilight.

Lan Xichen did the same with Shuoyue, the twin slashes signifying their stance in this matter.

No room for talk, only fight.

It didn’t take very long for them to hear the bustling of servants and advisors barge into the Rimefrost Villa.

With the closest advisor, the Director of War, off on a “monthly check-in at the Yunmeng Jiang Sect”, the first to arrive was Su She, Director of Internal Affairs.

Seeing that both Bichen and Shuoyue were unsheathed, Su She unsheathed his sword Nanping and pointed it at them, “Zewu-jun, Hanguang-jun, what is the meaning of this?!”

Lan Xichen was the first to speak, lining his words with a hint of unwavering conviction, “Barging into the Rimefrost Villa without invitation or permission is punishable via duel.”

“You—!”

Su She cut himself off, nodding pompously, “All right, all right, then it’s settled. Yin Xichen and Yin Wangji have rebelled against the entirety of Jinlintai!”

He rushed forward with a swipe that was easily blocked by Lan Wangji. Not long after the first few sword clashes, the rest of the advisors had stormed the Rimefrost Villa.

The Quiet Room was impenetrable, but not because of the shielding charms—those had been broken with strategically-timed sword swipes.

No, the only reason that the Quiet Room was protected was because the light from the Scroll of Guanyin’s power formed a sort of barrier that repelled anything that went against it.

Wei Wuxian’s screams still pierced the night sky, a dissonance against the scraping swords and battle cries.

“Yin Xichen, what is the matter with you?!”

“Yin Wangji, good for you! You’ve rebelled against all of China!”

With every insult thrown their way, their pseudonym was thrown alongside it. Eventually, Lan Wangji had tuned out the cacophony of noise.

What couldn’t be tuned out was the bone-chilling screams erupting from the blinding golden light.

The fighting lasted for hours and still raged on. Lan Wangji was covered in blood, his bronze armor dented and battered. Each sword that landed onto produced sparks, hardly cutting into the material.

Even so, there were parts of his body that the armor did not cover, and those had been torn and ripped until Lan Wangji felt nothing but pain, heard nothing but pain, and saw nothing but pain.

Blood seeped into his eyes, painting his vision red. He had to switch to using his spiritual energy to sense where the attacks were coming from. It took everything in him to only dodge and block, making attacks only when absolutely necessary, and never dealing fatal blows.

His throat was filled with blood at this point, coughing it up alongside stomach acid and bile. The smell of carnage was putrid—he could never get used to it. The villa’s sandalwood and begonia scent had long been washed away by the smell of vomit and blood.

Bichen drummed with spiritual energy, circulating it so rapidly that its blade glowed light blue. He glanced over at Lan Xichen, seeing that he was suffering from similar injuries, but Shuoyue was glowing as snowy bright as ever.

Wei Wuxian’s wails knocked Lan Wangji back to reality as he blocked three swords aimed for his neck.

It would take the imperial army several days to learn of the situation at Jinlintai. However, the princes, notably Prince Jin Guangyao, only needed until the next morning to arrive.

Lan Wangji was running on pure adrenaline, his blood for food and his sweat for water, muscles working to their maximum potential as he guarded himself in the relentless attacks.

Unlike them, his opponents could fight in shifts, and so it got progressively more dire for Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen.

However, they had gone too far, starting from when they began to harbor Wei Wuxian in the villa secretly. It was far too late to back out now, for they had made enemies of themselves.

Lan Wangji had long shifted from blocking to knocking out opponents, and when he considered more aggressive approaches, Prince Jin Guangyao had intervened with his sword sheathed.

Thus, the attacks halted, with Prince Jin Guangyao standing between both parties. Although it was a bright morning, the golden beam of light was still shining, and Wei Wuxian’s screams had not ceased. However, they were noticeably hoarser and more broken—a result of the all-night endeavor.

Lan Wangji stumbled from the sudden cease in battle, adrenaline still pumping through his engorged veins. Prince Jin Guangyao approached Lan Xichen, who was also battered and bruised with blood pouring from underneath his dented armor.

“General Yin, explain yourselves.”

Lan Xichen was breathing heavily, coughing up blood clots as he raised his voice, “I am not General Yin!”

Mutters arose as he continued, placing a voice amplification charm on his throat, “I am Lan Xichen, a fifth generation prince of the Lan Dynasty, here to reclaim the throne of emperor, as Guanyin intended!!”

Prince Jin Guangyao raged, “General Yin!! If you sheathe Shuoyue and quietly allow yourself to be arrested, I can vouch against your trial-less execution, but only if His Majesty is in a good enough mood!”

Lan Xichen dispelled the charm and quietly focused his attention on the prince, refusing to sheathe his sword, “A-Yao, our life purposes clash, both of equal value—the only difference is that mine has been ordained by the gods, and yours only by yourself.”

Prince Jin Guangyao’s jade-like temperament had melted away, leaving behind only a pained grimace.

Lan Xichen stepped backwards, pointing his sword at Prince Jin Guangyao, “If you won’t fight at my side, draw your sword to meet mine.”

As soon as Shuoyue’s point was raised to the prince, the crowd roared back to life, and the piercing pain that was beginning to slowly creep up Lan Wangji’s body was quickly doused with the burn of exertion.

As Lan Wangji fended off attacks, Prince Jin Guangyao finally drew his sword Hensheng, pointing it towards Lan Xichen with a cold, grim face, “Yin Xichen, why do you choose to go against me?”

Although Lan Wangji could not spare a bloodshot glance towards his brother, he heard his icy voice respond, “Yin Xichen is no more. I am Lan Xichen, and if you choose to go against me, we will become nothing but strangers!”

When he heard the clashing of Hensheng and Shuoyue, Lan Wangji finally focused back onto powering Bichen against his attackers, using the end of the handle to hit acupoints to temporarily knock out those he couldn’t parry against. Bichen, bathed in his master’s blood, still shone brightly—a physical testament to his drive.

Lan Wangji’s head reeled as a thick layer of sweat and grime was building up underneath his armor and robes. He had no mental fortitude to be able to wield his guqin, and could only hope that Bichen would not give out.

He hadn’t thought to ask Wen Qing how long the operation would take. By this point, the sky turned red as dusk set, and the golden beam of light was still as strong as ever. Wei Wuxian’s cries were no longer heard, but Wen Qing had not sent out a message of any sort, meaning that she was still operating.

The armor of imperial generals was meant to be unbreakable, able to withstand even the most powerful cultivators’ swords. However, despite such high claims, all mortal objects had a limit. After a full day of nonstop fighting, the dented metal finally gave in, and a painful cut slashed across Lan Wangji’s back.

He bit back a cry, hoping that Lan Xichen hadn’t seen him for fear of distracting him. The cut was not deep nor fatal, and Lan Wangji had eventually spun around to block further attacks.

With fresh blood pouring from his cracked armor, Lan Wangji could only wheeze, as the blade had impacted his ribcage and lungs. He coughed up more blood, watching as it mixed with his saliva and some stomach acid. He could feel his cracked and broken nails scraping against the skin of his face whenever he wiped away the fluids.

Earlier in the morning, Lan Wangji had managed to get a small break, from where he caught the whiff of his own vomit. The constant fighting had exhausted his physicality, drenching the Rimefrost Villa in the putrid stench of struggle. Even so, he had only wiped his sullied mouth with his bloodied sleeve and kept on fighting.

The courtyard they fought in was a large, white pebbled courtyard—however, with the onslaught, it turned the pristine stones into fiery rubies, painted with a coat of fresh blood with every injury inflicted.

Then, it began to rain. It started pouring, darkening the atmosphere even more and washing the blood away into pale red tributaries within the kicked-up stones of the courtyard.

Lan Wangji’s vision blurred in and out, and with the blood in his eyes that he couldn’t wipe away, he was essentially rendered blind. The rain hadn’t helped, only burning his eyes. The blood on his skin had dried, flaking off with every movement, yet recoated with another injury. If he were to live after this battle, he was surely going to be bedridden for weeks.

If. If.

Even the pessimism had gotten to him sometime during this fight.

Suddenly, an arc of purple lightning streaked through the rainy sky, electricity jumping from raindrop to raindrop. From above, Jiang Cheng descended with Sandu unsheathed and Zidian crackling around him in a ring of purple and white.

The frontline of opponents retreated back a few steps, and once they had seen Jiang Cheng’s face, their faces twisted into something wretched, “Director Jiang, what is the meaning of this? Do you dare to side with traitors?!”

Jiang Cheng’s face was pelted by the heavy rain, and he raised Sandu as a declaration of war, “The Yunmeng Jiang Sect stands with its peers and allies, and prides itself on acting against immorality!”

One advisor cried out, “Director Jiang, the immoral ones are those wanting to topple the entirety of Jinlintai!”

“Wrong!” Jiang Cheng shot back, venom dripping in his decree, “Do you have any idea what sort of person Lord Lian is?!”

At this, Lan Xichen’s gaze shot towards Prince Jin Guangyao, the latter of whom had also frozen with knitted brows, “I beg your pardon?”

Jiang Cheng’s grip on Sandu grew tighter, “There you are. I just recently talked to a few visitors, who told me everything in clear, non-paradoxical detail. There were no flaws in their testimonies.”

Prince Jin Guangyao approached, “Just what are you talking about, Director Jiang?”

Amidst the rain, Jiang Cheng shouted, “Qin Su killed herself yesterday, did you know that?”

Prince Jin Guangyao’s eyes shot wide open, and the crowd behind erupted into murmurs. Jiang Cheng’s voice lowered, “It was her maid, Bicao, who told me why, who could not find anyone in Jinlintai and sent an emergency Jin butterfly to Meishan.”

Mutters only increased, but Lan Wangji could not make out anything. Blood had seeped into his ears, so the only words he could hear were Jiang Cheng’s and Prince Jin Guangyao’s.

The prince’s face darkened, “Tell us then, what did she tell you?”

“She told me,” Jiang Cheng’s words were resolute and booming, “that you and Qin Su aren’t husband and wife—rather brother and sister! For this, you had even coordinated the assassination of your son, fearing that his upbringing would reveal it!”

At once, the crowd went into an uproar, and the prince had found himself backed into a corner. But Jiang Cheng was ruthless, “Bicao wasn’t the only visitor. Wen Ning visited as well—that damned Wen dog dared to show up in front of me!”

Zidian crackled as Jiang Cheng continued, “He told me that he had escaped from your Fragrant Palace. But, Lord Lian, aren’t all Wens condemned to an execution without trial? Why was he the exception?”

Before Prince Jin Guangyao could talk, Jiang Cheng interrupted, “I’ll tell you why: it was because you were planning on using him to murder your father, His Majesty Emperor Qingling, and pin the blame on the Yiling Patriarch, Wei Wuxian!”

Prince Jin Guangyao’s face turned ugly, and he brandished Hensheng with a fire in his eyes, “Director Jiang Wanyin, meet your death!”

The renowned Lord Lian was usually much more calculated and calm, but having fought for an entire day and with undeniable accusations of treason and incest thrown at him, his jade-like resolve had slipped.

Hensheng was a soft sword, easily able to evade ordinary sword strikes. However, Jiang Cheng still had his lightning whip, which was even more nimble and carried a far greater range. Thus, when the fighting continued, not only were the palace officials hesitant to fight alongside Prince Jin Guangyao, the prince’s attacks were not as effective anymore.

There were, of course, still officials loyal to Prince Jin Guangyao, notably Su She, who had rallied up his underlings to rejoin the fight against the Lans. However, compared to the great Second Imperial General Yin—now revealed to be Lan—these cultivators could not stand a chance.

Even so, Lan Wangji was in such a horrible state of health that if the fighting were to last a few more days, he truly would give out from energy depletion and pure exhaustion. The way things were going, he might even land into a coma for a few days, and take even longer to heal up his wounds and injuries.

It was near midnight now. There was still no update, and the golden beacon still shone. as radiant as when it started.

Amidst the dissonance of clashing swords, Lan Wangji could hear Jiang Cheng cursing, “My damn older martial brother, so f*cking self-righteous and flamboyant!”

The fighting didn’t stop until sunrise.

The golden light of the sun marked the second morning since the battling began. The troops had not reached Gusu yet—Lan Wangji figured that they must have received a distress letter and were still on their way to Jinlintai.

When the sun peeked over the horizon, the golden beacon faded. With the sky’s color, no one noticed until the light was completely gone, and the shadow of the Quiet Room returned.

Silence washed over the villa as the doors opened. Lan Wangji, in his panic, rushed forward to meet Wen Qing before anyone else could see who had stepped forward.

Fortunately, she was still wearing her disguise as Physician Xie. She was noticeably pale and covered in a thin film of sweat. She was skinnier than before, so fragile that she looked as if she would pass out at any second. Her breathing was winded and irregular. Her eyes were devoid of any light even in the morning sun, staring forward into a chilling thousand-year stare.

Cupped within her shaking blood-stained hands was a swirling, golden orb—the energy form of the Scroll of Guanyin.

Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen approached her at the same time; drenched in blood and obviously ruined, it must’ve been a frightening sight. However, Wen Qing did not flinch, simply holding out the orb, “Touch it, and it will transform into its indestructible scroll form. Hurry.”

Her voice was weak, and Lan Wangji disregarded the scroll, “Where’s Wei Ying? Where is he?”

His voice was cracked and soft, but she only urged the golden orb forward.

Lan Xichen held out his hand to grasp it, and as soon as an arc of golden light made contact with his hand, thousands of arcs and sparks multiplied and flew from the core of the scroll. Slowly, it manifested into a scroll—glittering golden and weighty.

Wen Qing nearly dropped it from how heavy it was, and Lan Xichen hurried to grab it. As he did, Wen Qing’s eyes rolled back into her head as she collapsed.

Lan Wangji watched Lan Xichen reach out to grab her, but he couldn’t be bothered to check on her.

Wei Ying.

He launched himself inside the Quiet Room, disregarding the uproar behind him as he searched each room.

He found Wei Wuxian in the backmost privacy room, and when he entered, the overwhelming aura of resentful energy flooded Lan Wangji’s body. If it weren’t for his inhuman resolve, he surely would’ve buckled to his knees.

The room was a complete mess—less like an operating table and more like the aftermath of a nightmarish massacre. The floor around the bed was drenched in blood, reaching the walls as well. Black smog covered the entire room, but from what Lan Wangji could see, mangled human viscera was scattered about the floor. Bottles of medicines had been smashed into the ground, littering it with porcelain fragments. There was a basin of vomit where a lot of stench came from, somehow kicked to the side.

The stench of blood and struggle permeated the air, and demonic voices layered amongst each other were the loudest presence in the room. However, when Lan Wangji craned his ear, he could hear a faint, wet wheezing sound.

Wei Ying.

Lan Wangji’s blood ran cold.

Step by step, he pushed against the dominating force of resentful energy to approach the bed. The stench only grew in magnitude, and his boots kicked against the clumps of flesh. Why was there flesh?

When he approached the bed, the smog was even denser, and as he summoned a bit of energy to disperse it, he heard Wei Wuxian cry out in agony.

“Agh—!”

Lan Wangji palmed around, searching for Wei Wuxian’s body. He was horrified to find that he had gone cold, as if he had been freezing for the past hour, “Wei Ying, what’s going on? What happened?! Wei Ying!!”

Wei Wuxian coughed up blood, the warm splatter falling onto Lan Wangji’s hand, telling him where his face was.

Lan Wangji immediately tried to transmit spiritual energy into him in an attempt to stabilize him, but Wei Wuxian dispersed, “No, it won’t work.”

“Why not? Wei Ying, you’re dying—”

“Zhan-er, get out!”

Wei Wuxian sobbed as a wave of pain ripped through him. Lan Wangji dispersed more of the smog, just wanting to see something, anything—!

All he heard was Wei Wuxian painstakingly pleading, “Get out! Lan Zhan—scram!”

When most of the black smog around Wei Wuxian had been cleared away, Lan Wangji’s heart nearly stopped.

Wei Wuxian was clawing into a hole in his stomach. Small chunks of viscera hung off his knuckles, and larger chunks had plopped over his sides. With a vivid horror, Lan Wangji could see the blood pumping wildly underneath the thin skin of Wei Wuxian’s organs.

He was still chanting, “Scram… scram…”

Immediately, Lan Wangji went to grab his cold wrists, yanking them away from the wound. Wei Wuxian was too weak to fight back, but his guts had already partially spilled out of the cavity.

“Wei Ying, what are you doing?!”

“The wound won’t heal— it won’t heal,” Wei Wuxian forced out with a cry, “Too— Too much yin energy, source of yang—augh—energy is gone— out— agh—!”

Wei Wuxian’s gurgled scream was accompanied by another mouthful of blood ejecting from his black and red mouth. He was extremely pale, as pale as death, forcing out what little words he could muster with a wince, “Zhan-er—the scroll, the scroll…”

“Wei Ying, hang in there.” Lan Wangji refused to answer his unspoken question, for fear that if he did, Wei Wuxian would truly leave, satisfied with dying as long as the mission was completed.

Lan Wangji let go of Wei Wuxian’s wrists and hoisted him up into an embrace. He tried to imbue him with spiritual energy, as this position was the best to transfer spiritual energy. Blood mixed with blood, he could only feel that Wei Wuxian was deathly cold.

“Won’t work…” Wei Wuxian croaked out, “No core… won’t work…”

Lan Wangji stilled. He looked down as Wei Wuxian put a hand over the gaping wound in his gut.

Lan Wangji trembled, seeing that the cavity where his golden core was was indeed empty, devoid of all light. His intestines hung out from the wound, covered in blood and mucus and emitting a stomach-churning stench.

“No core… too much yin energy… can’t live…” Wei Wuxian wheezed, breathless with each word, “Don’t tell… about the core… don’t tell anyone…”

Lan Wangji searched for a meaning in Wei Wuxian’s eyes, but could only see light flickering in and out of his dull silver eyes. Flashes of his memory cycled through his head of those same silver eyes, but much livelier and happy. Reality was too gruesome.

Wei Wuxian coughed up again, but this time it was a clear, yellow-ish liquid that Lan Wangji identified as stomach acid. Wei Wuxian reeled to the side to vomit on the ground. It made a disgusting splattering sound as it hit the blood-soaked floor and dripped down the miniature step. From how thin and watery it was, Lan Wangji figured that this was a constant thing.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji managed to cry out, “Wei Ying, stay with me, don’t go.”

“Hurts…” Wei Wuxian wheezed, hints of a pained laughter tracing his syllables, “Sing me a song… maybe… it’ll hurt… a little less…”

Wei Wuxian’s last few words were faint and almost impossible to pick up on. But Lan Wangji, cursed with good hearing, bitterly bit a gash into his lip.

From his ruined throat and bloody lips, he hummed a small tune. The back of his throat reverberated as he hummed.

So soft that only he and Wei Wuxian could hear it.

Notes floating through the thick air, punctuated with the chokes of sobs.

“It’s pretty…” Wei Wuxian hoarsely croaked.

Lan Wangji held him tighter, his voice cracking as he hummed the song over and over, over and over…

He clutched the cold body tighter and tighter, feeling Wei Wuxian’s sparse breath brushing against his neck as Wei Wuxian’s head flopped over his shoulder. Lan Wangji clutched him so tightly that the guts that spilled forth were in contact with his armor, pushed back into the cavity. Wei Wuxian didn’t have the energy to recoil away.

Tears dripped down from Lan Wangji’s clenched eyes as his staggered breath failed him and the humming stopped. He futilely tried to transfer over his spiritual energy, knowing that it wouldn’t work but not knowing what else he could do.

He knew Wei Wuxian was too far gone, but he couldn’t bring himself to accept it.

The tears scalded the cuts on Lan Wangji’s face, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. He was choking up on his tears, finding himself entirely too exhausted to keep singing. All of the pain from the earlier battling began to wash over him as the adrenaline could no longer keep up with the constant fighting.

If Wei Wuxian died here, Lan Wangji could fight for another hundred years, and it wouldn’t amount to even a tenth of the pain that his death would bring him.

Eventually, Wei Wuxian’s already-cold body had ceased to move. His ragged breathing stopped, and his weak heartbeat slowed to nothing.

“Wei Ying… Wei Ying… wake up…”

Lan Wangji clutched Wei Wuxian even closer to him, willing a heartbeat into him. If he could rip out his own beating heart to give to him, he would in a blink of an eye.

No, he couldn’t be dead.

He couldn’t.

The millions of slashes and cuts on his body flared up in pain as the resentful energy dispersed from the room and cut against him as it left. Lan Wangji heard many footsteps barging into the room, but his ears were ringing and his grip was iron-clad.

He did not notice how people were attempting to pull him off of the mangled mess, how Lan Xichen cried out for him, how Jiang Cheng was beginning to realize that the corpse Lan Wangji was holding was Wei Wuxian.

The only thing he could hear was the piercing shriek of a palace eunuch just outside the room, who had desperately been trying to find someone to scream to:

“His Majesty is dead! His Majesty is dead!”

Lan Wangji refused to let go. The area where his and Wei Wuxian’s bodies were in contact glowed a bright, light blue as he tried to fill the corpse with spiritual energy. It was a futile attempt at revival, something that only drained Lan Wangji of his last remaining reserves of spiritual energy.

It racked his already-stressed golden core to its limits, but he could hardly care. With his last remaining burst of energy, he began to scream at the people trying to pull him away, screaming curses and other uncharacteristic things of him. His blood-soaked throat ripped wounds in his esophagus as he forced out more cries of protests.

Eventually, he smelled a faint, fragrant smell of lavender, and his vision swirled to black.

Chapter 16: notes drifting, one by one

Chapter Text

Lan Wangji stayed in that position for hours, even in his sleep.

No one could pull Wei Wuxian’s corpse from his arms. It wasn’t just that his iron-clad grip on the corpse could not be lifted—it was because of Bichen.

Like a dutiful guard, a blood-stained Bichen stood vigil for Lan Wangji, slashing at and cutting any who dared to approach them after they had been pulled out from the blood-filled Quiet Room.

Just like Zhensi and Huansheng had done for their parents, Bichen was doing for Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian.

Wen Qing was quickly taken away and sent back to the Frost-Laden Manor for recovery while the mob’s focus was on Wei Wuxian, whose invisibility barrier had been lifted not long after his death.

With the Scroll of Guanyin in hand and an empty throne, Lan Xichen stormed the Blooming Garden with the rest of the advisors.

Unfurling the indestructible scroll, its bright white paper held numerous golden words that crowned Lan Xichen as the Emperor of China, and his brother Lan Wangji as the Imperial Brother. The scroll gleamed with heavenly light, clearly an artifact of the gods that could not be trifled with.

It took only a few seconds for Lan Xichen to assert his new position, but a year for him to tie up all the loose ends.

Emperor Qingling was allowed a burial. Buried alongside him were the naming conventions for emperors, for Lan Xichen could not see himself being named anything other than his own name. After years and years living as a Yin, who was he to hide that he was now a Lan?

The history books would know him as Emperor Lan Xichen, and nothing else.

Not long after, a series of events criminalizing Jin Guangyao had stripped him of his titles, reputation, and prestige. Lan Xichen swiftly exiled him and Consort Meng to Dongying with a body full of wounds.

He vividly remembered how Jin Guangyao, wearing only simple robes and carrying no belongings with him, had looked at him when he knelt.

A face with no regrets, but devoid of any gratitude or motivation, as if he were walking to his death. Silent questions were shot between the two as they had stared, but no further words were uttered, and Lan Xichen had no reason to expect a letter from him later down the line.

Poison had been found in Jin Guangyao’s Fragrant Palace that matched the symptoms of both Nie Mingjue and Emperor Qingling. Furthermore, Xue Yang was revealed to have been kept alive on Jin Guangyao’s accord, and he was given a swift execution on the spot.

Neither Jin Zixuan nor Jin Xuanyu cared to oppose the newly-forming Lan Dynasty. As they posed them no danger, they were allocated to palace official posts with great enthusiasm, living under watchful eyes. Jin Xuanyu relinquished his surname in favor of his mother’s—Mo, becoming Mo Xuanyu, Director of Internal Affairs.

Su She, who held that position, self-exiled himself to Dongying alongside other loyalists. The gates of the renamed Cloud Recesses closed to them, and they were forbidden from entering Gusu.

Jin Zixuan vouched for his remaining brothers, who had no part in the whole ordeal, and they were allowed to return to Lanling and build up their own Jinlintai. As the Cloud Recesses began to form its own Gusu Lan Sect, Jin Zixuan became both the Lanling Jin Sect Leader and Director of State.

Lan Xichen had a feeling that the princes of the short-lived Jin Dynasty would pose him no issues, as both Jin Zixuan and Mo Xuanyu held no desire for the throne. Jin Zixun became a general of the imperial army, and although Lan Xichen did not know him well, he had been reassured that should Jin Zixun cause any issues, Lan Xichen had many more allies.

Nie Huaisang, who had been absent from the fight at the Rimefrost Villa, kept his position as Director of Logistics. When questioned, he replied that he was dealing with sect affairs in Qinghe, bringing an official Nie Sect letter of alibi to prove his whereabouts. As he caused no issues, Lan Xichen didn’t feel the need to replace his position.

The same went for Jiang Cheng, and Lan Xichen rewarded him extra—both for Wei Wuxian’s loss and for his contribution to the fight at the Rimefrost Villa. Jiang Yanli’s marriage to Jin Zixuan was not brought up, but there was an underlying understanding that they would speak of marriage once the mourning period was over and the Cloud Recesses stabilized.

Wen Qing and Wen Ning, by Lan Xichen’s order, were pardoned of all of the sins of the Wen Dynasty, having proven to be unaffiliated with their distant royal relatives. Wen Qing was given the role of Imperial Physician, and Wen Ning was allowed to live in the Cloud Recesses alongside her.

Lan Wangji, after eight months, finally woke up from his comatose state.

It was a celebratory moment, as Bichen had ceased its guarding and physicians and family members could finally deal with the pair. They didn’t care that the Quiet Room was still doused with the eight-month old carnage, or that the smell had permeated the entire building. Lan Wangji was still wearing his broken armor, and Wei Wuxian’s body was still as much of a mess as it was when Lan Xichen saw them.

However, Lan Wangji refused to let go of Wei Wuxian.

Lan Xichen couldn’t understand why. For months, Lan Wangji’s unconscious and still-healing body held onto the corpse as if it were a lifeline. His limp body was still circulating spiritual energy into the bloodied body, and for those months, no one was able to examine his health or the state of Wei Wuxian due to Bichen’s relentless guarding.

While he had been given the title of the Gusu Lan Sect Leader, and all of the responsibilities that came with it, he asserted that he would be able to perform his duties remotely.

Lan Xichen could remember how he knelt in apology, troubling the emperor to do the few tasks in-person that he was “incapable of doing at the moment.” Lan Wangji even had the audacity to hold Wei Wuxian’s corpse in his arms as he knelt in the dried bloodstains on the floor of the Quiet Room.

Just for that, Lan Xichen ordered him to stay in that position for the entire day without moving—but it seemed that Lan Wangji was content and even happy to do just that.

After Lan Wangji’s punishment was over, Lan Xichen forced him to stay at his Orchid Room—Lan Xichen’s chambers in the Rimefrost Villa. Although Lan Wangji went to protest, Lan Xichen explained that he was sending men to clean up the Quiet Room, and once they were done, he was free to return.

Lan Wangji promptly shut his mouth. Lan Xichen had him change out of his uniform immediately, and allowed him to redress Wei Wuxian.

The body did not decay due to the immense amount of spiritual energy that Lan Wangji imbued into him. With the yin energy dissipated upon death, the corpse finally accepted the healing factor that Lan Wangji’s spiritual energy gave.

When the Quiet Room was scrubbed clean and redecorated, Lan Wangji quietly took the body there for further treatment. His temperament had mellowed, but he was still jumpy, still clutching Wei Wuxian’s body every day to transfer his spiritual energy.

Once Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli had learned that Bichen was no longer guarding the pair, they immediately paid a visit to the Rimefrost Villa.

When they entered the Quiet Room, the stench was the first to hit them, and then the sight of blackened blood covering the floor and walls. Jiang Yanli stumbled backwards, but upon seeing Lan Wangji sitting up with Wei Wuxian’s body in his arms, she disregarded the horrible smell.

Jiang Yanli dropped to her knees next to the bed and wept, “A-Xian!...”

Jiang Cheng warily walked forward, as if afraid. He simply stood next to Jiang Yanli, his head bowed low. He said nothing, but Lan Wangji could sense a million words being shot at Wei Wuxian just by looking at Jiang Cheng’s stare.

Wei Wuxian looked as if he were simply sleeping, his eyelids closed delicately and his face free of struggle. Even though he was covered in blood, he still looked as peaceful as ever.

Lan Wangji, on the other hand, looked as if he hadn’t slept a day in his life even after he woke up from the coma. He flinched with every movement that the Jiang siblings made. His wounds had not properly healed yet, and he was still wearing that mangled mess of armor and cloth that he donned eight months ago. Blood clots dripped from his cuts, spilling forth more as if Lan Wangji were an endless source of the stuff.

When Lan Wangji shifted in his place, Jiang Cheng saw that there was a gaping wound in Wei Wuxian’s stomach, mangled and bloody. When he asked about it, Lan Wangji answered that because of the overwhelming yin energy, Wen Qing could not stitch up the wound, for it would only open back up and worsen.

Jiang Cheng hardly processed that Wen Qing was Physician Xie, his eyes fixated on Wei Wuxian’s body.

He only knelt at the bloody bedside, finding that the sight of Wei Wuxian being so quiet was too uncanny. He always thought that, even in death, Wei Wuxian would find a way to be talkative and bright.

But looking at the corpse, even though it had been so well-preserved, Jiang Cheng could see his sunken eyes, his dark eyebags, his skin pulled taut against the bone as if he hadn’t had enough to eat, the stress lines…

It completely shattered his view of Wei Wuxian, his older martial brother, the same person who he had sparred with at the Yunmeng Jiang Sect all those years ago.

Lan Wangji was still transferring spiritual energy, stating that the wound was making progress. Neither Jiang Cheng nor Jiang Yanli protested. The latter was still crying, murmuring incomprehensible things. Jiang Cheng could only stare in silence.

Finally, Jiang Cheng glanced at Lan Wangji, and quietly asked, “He’s really gone?”

Lan Wangji’s armor pieces clanked as his shoulders dropped, “Mn.”

Jiang Cheng couldn’t speak anymore. A knot had formed in his throat, blocking anything he wanted to say.

As he and Jiang Yanli left the Rimefrost Villa, Lan Wangji reassured them that they were welcome to visit, and apologized for keeping Wei Wuxian all these months. The sight of the Imperial Brother performing a ninety degree bow had caused Jiang Cheng to panic, but Lan Wangji insisted.

It was here that Jiang Cheng noticed Lan Wangji’s clothing.

Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli wore pure white, as they were Wei Wuxian’s closest family members. It was expected of them.

However, Jiang Cheng hadn’t expected Lan Wangji to don pure white as well. Although he normally dressed in light-colored clothing, they usually featured some amount of gray and light blue, with the occasional teal—never a pure white like he had.

Then again, his behavior when the Scroll of Guanyin had been revealed was similarly strange.

For over eight months, even in his comatose state, Lan Wangji clung onto Wei Wuxian’s body, circulating spiritual energy without rest. It was unheard of in the cultivation world, and seemed to produce no actual result. Wei Wuxian remained dead, and Lan Wangji remained unconscious.

It wasn’t until a few months in, when Jiang Cheng attempted to deal with Bichen, that he had noticed something.

Amidst the parries with the floating sword (and a whole slew of curses), Jiang Cheng had managed to catch a few glimpses.

Lan Wangji was still wearing his broken bronze armor, doused in dried blood and illuminated by the blue glow. Wei Wuxian was wearing simple robes, which were opened for the operation.

It was as if it were a snapshot of that moment, that moment when Lan Wangji was found holding his body.

But it had been a few months, and Wei Wuxian had definitely died. By this point, his corpse should have rotted.

When Jiang Cheng had exited the fray, he finally realized that the reason Wei Wuxian’s body was still looking as new as ever was because of Lan Wangji’s transfer of spiritual energy.

Such a thing had never been done or recorded.

When he left, he never came back to challenge Bichen.

Lan Wangji snapped Jiang Cheng out of his memory daze and back to the present, stating that he had found Wei Wuxian’s belongings. When he was done extracting the items from his qiankun pouch, he planned to visit the Lakeside Manor to drop them off.

But as Lan Wangji talked, Jiang Cheng could only wonder what Wei Wuxian was thinking of when he was dying—his face looking as calm as ever while his stomach was ripped open by his own body.

Ever since Wei Wuxian stopped breathing, Lan Wangji became frozen in time, numbly watching the rest of the world revolve.

Wei Wuxian’s body, despite having healed its major wounds, was still as cold and unmoving as it had been when he held him. No matter what Lan Wangji did, he did not respond.

Lan Xichen made great strides in reforming the court and palace, stone-faced more than ever as he slammed edict after edict down. Banishing, promoting, imprisoning, rewarding, rebuilding, renaming…

Only the Rimefrost Villa stayed the same, unmoving as the earth spun too fast for Lan Wangji to catch up. He could still remember the carnage, smell the blood, taste the stomach acid, feel Wei Wuxian dying in his arms, Wei Wuxian’s last breath grazing his neck.

So he cooped himself up in the Quiet Room when it had been cleaned up. When he entered, it smelled of sandalwood and begonias—a scent too strong—and Lan Wangji demanded that lotus incense be brought in immediately.

Now the Rimefrost Villa smelled of lotus and sandalwood. Wei Wuxian still did not move.

When Lan Wangji had fallen into that eight month coma, the wounds he sustained had stuck onto his robes when they healed. So when the servants came to remove the tattered robes, they had unknowingly ripped the scar tissue off the wounds.

As a result, the bleeding reanimated, so he was tightly bandaged up from his neck down to his ankles.

His forehead ribbon, which featured a delicate, intricate cloud pendant tied with a thin, ivory white cloth, had moved from his wrist to his forehead. It felt like a weight, reminding him of Wei Wuxian’s efforts that had allowed him to proudly wear this sacred ribbon.

But Wei Wuxian still did not move.

When Wen Qing examined the body, she found that Wei Wuxian was a husk, holding not even a puddle of yin, yang, demonic, or spiritual energy. Lan Wangji’s transfer of spiritual energy would only dissipate in Wei Wuxian’s body, as there was not even a single meridian left intact to hold it.

She said that his only saving grace was the healing factor of his spiritual energy, as it kept Wei Wuxian’s body from decaying.

Lan Wangji urged her to come up with a way to repair his meridians, but she only shook her head. The backlash of the demonic yin energy had caused every meridian and spiritual vein to explode and wither away.

Wen Qing shook her head, “I’m afraid that the only people that could perform such a miracle would be an immortal—“

She quickly shut her mouth, but it was already too late. Reinvigorated, Lan Wangji’s eyes lit up, “Baoshan Sanren.”

“Your Imperial Highness,” Wen Qing bit, “we don’t know her whereabouts.”

Lan Wangji said icily, “I will take Wei Ying to Baoshan Sanren.”

“You don’t even know where she is!” Wen Qing argued.

But Lan Wangji only coldly stared at her, “I will take Wei Ying to Baoshan Sanren.”

“Even if you knelt at every mountain and valley in all of China, she would not come see you! Not even the most skilled cultivators or emperors have had the opportunity to set eyes on her, nevermind ask her for a favor such as this!”

Lan Wangji dipped his head, “If I cannot do this for him, then this life is no longer worth living.”

“Your Imperial Highness!”

Lan Wangji said nothing, knowing that searching for an immortal was much harder than searching for a needle in a haystack by tenfold. He could only slump back down onto the bedside.

His hand grazed something cold, and he flinched away. However, looking down, he saw that it was Wei Wuxian’s hand. He lowered his hand back down, finding that it was indeed his hand which felt colder than ice, yet softer than silk.

“You may leave.” Lan Wangji spoke coldly with a soft voice, so soft that it sounded as if it may crack.

Wen Qing dismissed herself, and when the sliding door closed, Lan Wangji held Wei Wuxian’s hand tighter. After a moment, he released it, promptly standing up from the bed. He placed a protective shield around the bed before walking over to his desk, where he summoned his guqin.

The bandages that wound around him and bound him tightly had constricted him as he sat down.

In the months that he was awake, he had worked tirelessly to invent a technique to communicate with spirits via guqin. When he had finally fine-tuned the details, he named the technique “Inquiry”, and performed it every day.

Perhaps it was desperation, seeing as every spirit he talked with could not give him the information he sought. From elderly ladies to young children, Lan Wangji came to talk to many.

But not a single one knew of the whereabouts of Wei Wuxian’s soul, nor where Baoshan Sanren could be found.

Still, he refused to lose hope.

The first note of “Inquiry” rang out into the thin air, and Lan Wangji held his breath. None responded, and he lowered his eyelids.

Perhaps he had run the Rimefrost Villa dry. His fingers hooked the guqin strings, pulling them taut without breaking them.

He’d have to go elsewhere then.

He loosened his grasp on the guqin strings and repositioned his hands.

Note by note, he played slowly with shaking hands.

Wei Wuxian’s dying breath was one note. His tentative words were another.

With every note, threads of the memory stitched itself together, recalling the moment when Wei Wuxian asked for a song, and Lan Wangji sang it over and over again. Wishing for his recovery, wishing for his happiness.

Another note—the smell of blood. Another—the clinking of his broken bronze armor.

Another: Wei Wuxian’s slipping warmth.

His thumb plucked the last note, his hands hovering over the guqin as he allowed the singular note to ring out into oblivion.

After a few seconds, the Quiet Room fell into silence, bearing its namesake as Lan Wangji allowed the last bit of warmth seep down from the corner of his eyes.

It didn’t take long for Lan Wangji to prepare to leave the Cloud Recesses.

He prepared a small troop of soldiers to guard the Rimefrost Villa, placing protective spells and charms on the Quiet Room for an added layer of protection.

Out of Wei Wuxian’s belongings, Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli only took Suibian and Chenqing. A pure iron sword with the name Xuanwu carved into its hilt was a third weapon that none of the three knew Wei Wuxian had possessed. At the end of its handle hung a dark, iron amulet, and the whole weapon brimmed with resentful energy.

Xuanwu had rejected the Jiang siblings’ touches, zapping out a painful blast of resentful energy. Out of the three, only Lan Wangji could wield it without harm.

It was heavy and cold to the touch, just as Wei Wuxian’s body had been.

Because of this reminder, Lan Wangji had dutifully placed it back in the qiankun pouch, feeling the suffocating presence disappear. It was then that he had realized that he was holding his breath the entire time, letting it out in one fell swoop. The brain fog that was subtly building up in his head dispersed, and his body felt much lighter.

He looked down at the white and blue qiankun pouch. It really was easy to fall into demonic cultivation, if simply holding Xuanwu gave that effect.

Beyond the weapons, Wei Wuxian’s qiankun pouch was quite light. The only items left were the numerous vials of yin energy that Wei Wuxian had released during the treatments, having nowhere else to be disposed of without harming the environment.

Lan Wangji kept these as the Jiang siblings did not desire them, but the former had no real use for it beyond sentimental value, and so these were also kept in the qiankun pouch.

With his guqin strapped to his back and the qiankun pouch stowed away in his breast pocket, Lan Wangji set off alone, insisting on a lack of an entourage.

Having had to trouble Lan Xichen to look after the growing Gusu Lan Sect, Lan Wangji turned his head away from his brother’s grim expression.

”You are to return to the Cloud Recesses three times a week to perform your duties as sect leader.

Lan Wangji clutched Bichen tighter as he left through the gates, a knot forming in his throat.

Over the next few years, rumor had spread that a man, eloquently dressed and clearly hailing from the Cloud Recesses, was floating around China with two tunes.

One of varied notes and pauses, similar to a conversation.

Another with a hauntingly sad melody, written by someone who had lost a beloved item.

The man went by various pseudonyms, but the trail of cities that he had visited had known him by the two tunes. So even though his name was vastly different from city to city, anyone who had heard the nightly phenomenon knew exactly who the next person would be talking about.

Whenever Lan Wangji returned to the Cloud Recesses, he brought back various books and manuscripts from all over, building up a large collection. Within the palace, he ordered for a Library Pavilion to be built to store this vast selection.

Ten years after his first expedition, Lan Wangji had traversed every crevice of China three times over, but found nothing. On returning to the Cloud Recesses, he did not leave again.

“This year’s selection of disciples seems promising,” Lan Xichen poured a cup of tea and slid it towards Lan Wangji, “Are there any that catch your eye?”

Lan Wangji lowered his eyelids, taking a sip of the fragrant, golden tea, “Two.”

Lan Xichen tilted his head curiously, “Which two?”

“Sizhui. Jingyi.”

Lan Xichen put down his teacup, “No surnames?”

Lan Wangji shook his head, “I wish to take them in.”

Lan Xichen blinked, “Excuse me?”

“I wish to take them in.”

Before Lan Xichen could say another word in response, Lan Wangji added, “They are young orphans, but capable with solid cores and strong meridians, standing out among the new batch of disciples.”

Lan Xichen said nothing, and the Orchid Room fell to a deafening silence before he replied, “Very well. They shall inherit the Lan surname, and be registered as your wards.”

Lan Wangji deeply bowed his head, “Thank you, Brother.”

Lan Xichen raised a hand, “Wangji, I must ask you something.”

Lan Wangji raised his head, “Yes?”

“Have you given up?”

He dreaded this question, blankly staring forward as he searched for a suitable response. His palms became sweaty and warm as he clenched his fists: one around the teacup and the other bunching up his robes.

He remembered the mangled suit of armor displayed in his chambers, the shards and tatters painstakingly pieced together but never cleaned—one of the many items kept in his Quiet Room as constant reminders.

His eardrums roared with the crackling of the resentful smog, and his neck tingled with the phantom sensation of ragged breathing. He could feel the caked-up blood underneath his fingernails, how his joints creaked when he woke up, still clutching a cold Wei Wuxian.

“Get out! Lan Zhan—scram!”

Lan Wangji slowly bowed his head until he saw nothing but the half-full teacup, the position of the tea leaves at the porcelain bottom attracting his attention. From his scarce knowledge of tea leaf fortune-telling, he deemed the positioning as inauspicious.

“No.” He kept his head bowed, as if in apology, “I haven’t.”

Chapter 17: the precious jade of loss

Chapter Text

What is one to do if the fate of the world rested on a sinner’s sacrifice?

Naturally, it is to forget.

To live as someone with conflicting identities is painful indeed. If there was a way to simply erase oneself from history and memory, and to die peacefully, then wouldn’t it be a gracious gift from Shangdi?

To bathe in a room full of blood and viscera was nothing compared to the crushing weight of heaven’s judgment.

A soul without memory is a peaceful life indeed.

”Do you know who you are?”

“No,” the nameless soul responded.

”Then do you know the things that you’ve done?”

“No,” the nameless soul responded.

There was a beat of silence, and then finally, ”Would you like to know?

The nameless soul hesitated, having figured that if he were being asked such questions, then his life must not have been great when he was alive. Tortured, the soul asked, “Is a life worth living a second time?”

The voice did not respond for a long while, but the soul could see nothing but darkness, and so had nothing better to do than wait.

”For someone like you,” the voice finally spoke tenderly, ”it is better to forget and move on.”

The nameless soul laughed to himself, “Someone like me? What sort of person was I for you to say so?”

”Will you choose to remember?”

“Is there a time limit?”

”No,” was the swift response, ”but the longer you wait, the faster time passes.”

The nameless soul laughed again, as if he found everything in the world quite funny—like it was one big entertainment stage, and he was the sole audience member.

Lan Wangji never stopped playing “Inquiry” and “Wangxian”, even when he secluded himself in the Rimefrost Villa after his ten years of searching.

He spent the next three years as sect leader, overseeing the disciples and their training. The three thousand and five hundred Lan doctrines were put in place and were solidified every year.

Over the years of its existence, the Gusu Lan Sect became known as an upright and highly-disciplined sect, with no tolerance for secularity. Remarks spread around that the Gusu Lan Sect might as well be training immortals.

And then, in the period of peace, Lan Xichen suddenly went into seclusion.

That day had been nothing eventful; Lan Wangji was going about his day performing his sect leader and palace duties as usual. He was teaching a lesson on the identifications of night hunt creatures when Lan Sizhui entered, quickly approaching the podium.

“Hanguang-jun,” he addressed with a grim expression, “Jiahao from the Frost Palace is here to see you.”

Jiahao was the head eunuch, and the Frost Palace was Lan Xichen’s palace study and residence outside of the Rimefrost Villa. Naturally, if Jiahao had to travel to the sect grounds himself, it wasn’t anything light.

Lan Wangji delegated the lecture duties to Lan Sizhui and swiftly left the room.

Jiahao was a slender man, drowning in the eunuch robes. Naturally, his skin stuck closely to the bone. However, when Lan Wangji went to the visitor’s hall to see him, his face was haggard and covered in a thin layer of sweat, as if he had been running the entire way down.

Upon seeing Lan Wangji enter, he immediately bowed, “Your Imperial Highness!”

“What is it?” Lan Wangji wasted no time in asking.

“His Majesty—” Jiahao hiccuped, his movements jittery, “His Majesty received a letter and package from Dongying, and— and well he seemed quite distressed—not that it’s my place to guess what His Majesty is thinking—!”

“Get to the point.” Lan Wangji bit.

“Yes, Your Imperial Highness!” Jiahao only shook more, “After reading the letter and opening the package, he said nothing for a long time. I… I was about to ask before he suddenly stood up and… and declared that he was going to go on an indefinite period of seclusion.”

Lan Wangji froze, his eyes darting left and right, “Seclusion? What was in that package?”

“I… I’m not sure, Your Imperial Highness. He placed the item right back into the envelope, and I did not dare to touch it.”

Lan Wangji said nothing, his face full of bitterness as Jiahao surfaced a scroll from his sleeves, “Before he left, he wished for me to tell you that he was going to seclude himself in the Frost-Laden Manor and delegate you as Acting Emperor.”

Lan Wangji’s shoulders sank as Jiahao bowed, holding the scroll out. Lan Wangji did not take the scroll for a long time, simply looking at its golden appearance.

It reminded him of the Scroll of Guanyin, how it materialized in Lan Xichen’s hands moments before Lan Wangji’s entire world collapsed.

His breathing quickened, and Jiahao looked up with a panicked expression, “Your Imperial Highness, shall I call for a doctor—”

Lan Wangji raised his hand, and Jiahao promptly shut his mouth. He clenched his eyes shut, ejecting all memories of that day from his head for a moment as he opened them.

This scroll was not as golden as the Scroll of Guanyin. It was dull, as if Lan Xichen’s mood had dampened its glow. Then, with great hesitation, he grasped the heavy scroll within his hands.

It was cold to the touch, only prompting more memories. But he steeled himself, pursed his lips bitterly as he opened it.

The rest of the scroll, written in Lan Xichen’s shaky handwriting, detailed Lan Wangji’s new duties, to be put on a higher priority than his duties as sect leader. After reading it, Lan Wangji closed the scroll without another word, placing it in the pocket of his sleeve as he took a deep breath.

“Jiahao, return to the Frost Palace. Do not touch anything. I will go there once my duties here have been wrapped up.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Chills ran up Lan Wangji’s spine. The title was foreign.

News of Lan Xichen’s sudden seclusion and Lan Wangji’s promotion to Acting Emperor swept through the entirety of China.

Lan Xichen had spent the past thirteen years building up his reputation as a righteous and kind-hearted emperor, and it took a great deal of effort for people to accept him.

Now, however, Lan Wangji was placed in the hot seat. Barely anyone knew of his character, and it was far too early to sense whether or not he would rule in the same fashion as his brother. Thus, the news was met with silence and some speculations, tinged with a sense of uncertainty for China’s future.

Lan Wangji took up the position with some shakiness, and it only took a few days for him to adapt. The duties of the emperor were plentiful and heavy in magnitude, so the transition was not meant to be seamless. With Jiahao’s help, Lan Wangji managed to grasp Lan Xichen’s day-to-day activities.

“Your Majesty, the weekly report from the Lan Sect.”

Lan Wangji received the document, reading through it.

As head disciple, Lan Sizhui had been given the duties of sect leader without the title. Lan Jingyi was there to assist him in the transition, so in the reports sent to the Frost Palace, it was always a toss-up as to who wrote it.

Lan Wangji could tell that this report was written by Lan Sizhui: neat and orderly with precise strokes. Lan Jingyi’s characters were more unrestrained and held his boisterous nature in each inconsistent stroke.

He had struggled taking on the duties of sect leader in Lan Wangji’s stead, but just like him, he had bounced back and was taking on the new routine rather smoothly. He reported that the disciples were progressing as usual.

Lan Jingyi had recently taken some junior disciples out on a night hunt to Moling, which had been left high and dry due to the departure of Su She and his disciples. With the Moling Su Sect gone, it became the Gusu Lan Sect’s duty to take care of Moling until another sect rose up.

Moling. Lan Wangji closed the letter, hearing the hard covers clack softly.

“Jiahao.”

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Are there any more matters to attend to?”

Jiahao nervously shifted, “There is the matter of the vacant Inner Palace…”

Lan Wangji’s gaze darkened, “Any other matters?”

Jiahao froze, tensing up underneath the glare, “No, Your Majesty.”

“Then I will go to the Rimefrost Villa. You may return to your residence.”

Jiahao dipped his head, stepping back as Lan Wangji descended from the platform.

The Rimefrost Villa was heavily guarded, but none dared to step inside. Inside was Lan Wangji’s sole domain, and he had forbidden anyone besides his brother from entering.

This was the one place where he could shed his titles, going from Acting Emperor to simply Lan Wangji.

Even so, as he entered the Quiet Room and sat at the bedside, Jiahao’s words invaded his mind.

The Inner Palace was where the empress, consorts, and concubines lived alongside their maids and other ladies who were set to live in the palace. Because Emperor Qingling married many women across his lifetime, the Inner Palace was expanded over and over.

However, with both Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji being single bachelors, the large territory was now vacant, with only maids staying to upkeep the empty residences. All of Emperor Qingling’s wives were sent back home with generous compensation, and their sons either took up palace official posts or went to the Lanling Jin Sect.

He undressed his outer layers until only his thin inner robes were on. Then gingerly, he hoisted Wei Wuxian’s body up into his arms.

Cold, that was all he thought as he hugged him and began to transfer energy. Lan Wangji hooked his chin over the thin shoulder, closing his eyes as he focused on the energy transfer.

It all pooled into the husk, with no meridians to support it for long. He could feel it drain from his body and seep out of Wei Wuxian’s pores into a thin, glowing mist around them. Thankfully, the healing factor was absorbed into the body, repairing organs and decaying tissue.

Bit by bit, Lan Wangji could feel Wei Wuxian’s skin being pulled taut against the regrowing muscle, the blood pumping through the eerily still organs and creating a false sense of warmth. His heart did not beat in a natural way, and his brain was hanging on by a thread. Wei Wuxian’s body could only be sustained in this way, not reanimated.

Even so, Lan Wangji clutched it tighter, the same way he had thirteen years ago.

He stayed like this for hours, never resting. He had taken many medicines prior that promoted energy regeneration and stability, just for this.

Eventually, when his body ached and his fingertips went numb, he cut the connection. Wei Wuxian, as still as ever, seemed to glow. Lan Wangji delicately laid the body back down onto the bed, tucking the quilt over him.

Lan Wangji was sweating all over, a minor side effect. He redressed himself, straightening out his robes and brushing out the wrinkles after wiping himself clean with cold water.

Then, he walked to the nearby table and sat down, pouring a cup of tea. He held the cup high and turned towards the bed.

Then, in one swift movement, he poured the cup of tea in a steaming line between him and Wei Wuxian.

One side living, the other dead—separated by the rising white mist yet intermingled with the sandalwood and lotus scent of the room.

Lan Wangji retrieved another cup and poured himself a cup of tea, going through all motions of the ritual before he sipped the amber tea.

Cup after cup, tea became his alcohol.

It became a golden dusk outside, and Lan Wangji laid his head on the table. He was not tipsy, nor was he tired. He just felt that the imaginary crown on his head was too heavy.

His headpiece clinked as it touched the wooden desk, the coldness seeping into his cheek as he closed his eyes. The faint scent of the lavender Fleeting Reverie incense wafted from the warm incense burner on the table.

In the swirling darkness of his dreamscape, he saw the golden beacon of light again. Within the beam, he thought that he saw the back of Wei Wuxian’s robes, how they fluttered as he jumped from rooftop to rooftop.

In his dream, he was also on the rooftop, chasing Wei Wuxian’s fleeting back. They leapt from building to building, across the Cloud Recesses and across mountains, past valleys and rivers, around seas and canyons.

Then, when Wei Wuxian had climbed to the tallest peak in China, Lan Wangji’s vision shifted. After a while of reorientation, he found that he was now looking from Wei Wuxian’s eyes.

The rolling hills, the floating clouds. Mist piled coldly around his ankles, and his robes were lighter—unlike those of a royal family member. His cheeks grew sore, and he realized that he was uncontrollably smiling.

Wei Wuxian turned, and Lan Wangji, looking through his eyes, could see himself.

He was wearing all white, with buttons on his lapel and his many robes fluttering in the strong wind. The scars on his face and hands were faint, hardly noticeable at a glance but rather scary with further observation.

Even so, Wei Wuxian had reached out with both of his arms, and from Lan Wangji’s mouth, he could hear his voice.

“Zhan-er!”

Lan Wangji woke up immediately after.

The lavender scent still lingered in the air, the pale gray smoke snaking around him like a cruel imagination.

When he lifted his head, the heaviness of his headpiece returned to him, and his cheekbone was sore from pressing the weight of his head on it. His joints creaked, and as he stretched standing up, he could see the scars on his hands.

They snaked up to his wrists, and he could feel the bumps against his inner robes. When he touched his neck and face, he could feel the raised edges of the scars that refused to heal.

Whenever he got dressed and was forced to look at himself in the mirror, he turned his head away whenever possible. He found himself quite ugly, and as the years passed, it never got any better.

All painting depictions of him featured him scarless, as no painter dared to sully the Acting Emperor/Imperial Brother’s image with realism. Whenever he walked past such a portrait, he could not bear to linger at it for long.

When he left the Quiet Room, it was early morning. It was still dark outside, with the stars sprinkled above him and the slight rustle of the nearby bamboo forest adding an extra layer of depth to the environment.

He summoned his guqin, allowing it to float in the air in front of him as he plucked the first few notes of “Inquiry”.

When the notes rang into the twilight, Lan Wangji perked up when a response came back strong, ”I am here.”

Lan Wangji plucked the strings delicately, “Who are you?”

”Unsure.”

“Your age?”

”Unsure.”

Lan Wangji frowned, “Male or female?”

”Unsure.”

“Do you know how you died?”

There was a pause, and miraculously, the spirit had a different answer, ”With many regrets.”

“Cause of death?”

”Unsure.”

“Then how can you know that you died with regrets?”

”Someone told me, told me that I lived an unsatisfying life.”

“Who told you?”

”Unsure.”

Lan Wangji was thinking of another question to ask before a string of chords rang out from the guqin, ”Enough questions about me, I want to ask you some questions.”

He was taken aback, having never encountered such a spirit, “Go ahead.”

”Who are you?”

Lan Wangji hesitated before he plucked back, “Lan Wangji.”

”What year is this?”

“The thirteenth year of the second Lan Dynasty.”

”Am I in the presence of royalty?”

Lan Wangji hesitated, “No. A coincidence.”

”What a shame. But… it has been so long already? Last I checked, it was only the fourth year.”

“How did you check?”

”That ‘someone’ of course.”

“And you trust them?”

”Why should I trust you? It’s quite dark and boring here. There’s nothing better to do than trust anyone.”

“What do you remember about yourself?”

”Nothing, only things I’ve been told.”

“What have you been told?”

”That I lived my life without satisfaction.” Neither party talked for a while before the spirit finally communicated, ”That ‘someone’ gave me two choices.”

“What choices?”

”To either forget or to remember. What do you think?”

“You should form your own opinion.”

”Then what is your opinion?”

Lan Wangji thought for a moment, “To remember.”

”What if you’ve lived a painful life?”

Lan Wangji hesitated, remembering the origin of his many scars. In the absence of an answer, the spirit added, ”You must have lived a difficult life, I see.”

Lan Wangji answered, “No life is easy.”

”That is true. Lan Wangji, would you choose to remember those painful memories then?”

Lan Wangji wavered before he answered, “They are not entirely painful. There are things I would like to remember.”

”Ohh, like what?”

Lan Wangji thought of Wei Wuxian and Lan Xichen, “People close to me.”

”Ahh, I suppose that’s the kicker. I don’t remember if there’s anyone I fancy.”

Lan Wangji lowered his eyelids, “There may be.”

”But maybe there isn’t anyone. Maybe my regrets involve them. Wouldn’t ignorance be the better option?”

“You would never know.”

”You’re right. I never would.” The spirit said nothing for a while, ”Lan Wangji, I’m quite tired.”

“All right.”

Lan Wangji played a few chords to end “Inquiry”, and the night fell to silence again.

Even though the spirit knew very little, Lan Wangji could deduce a few points.

Firstly, the spirit must have had a strong presence, with very little of its soul scattering even after over nine years. Secondly, the spirit must have been a cultivator, or a spirit with a great deal of spiritual energy, for it had maintained the conversation for a much longer time compared to other spirits. On top of that, its answers were resolute without weakness, and it even could ask questions back.

Lan Wangji sent out a few charms, but could not sense a strong presence that may have been the source of the soul.

Disappointed, he withdrew his arms before plucking a few more notes to begin playing “Wangxian”.

The lonely tune floated in and out of the veranda hallways, with the tinkling bells as an accent and the crackle of lantern fire as an accompaniment. But the guqin was the loudest, its piercing notes reverberating from Lan Wangji’s fingers into the strings, and finally out into the cold winter air.

It was a cold night like this, the day Wei Wuxian teleported inside the Rimefrost Villa and knelt before Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen.

The lingering warmth of the Quiet Room behind him wrapped around Lan Wangji like a faint hug. He could still smell the lavender of the Fleeting Reverie incense, something he regularly poured into the incense burner.

He couldn’t help it.

It was the only way he could vividly watch Wei Wuxian smile and leap around again.

Chapter 18: all things decay in due time

Chapter Text

Lan Sizhui heard many things about Lan Wangji, the man who juggled between being the Acting Emperor of China, Chief Cultivator, and the Gusu Lan Sect Leader.

Only he and Lan Jingyi knew him as a father-figure, taking them in when they were orphaned. Despite not being legitimate sons, they enjoyed the privileges of head disciples, and were even minorly involved with palace affairs that required their assistance, should Lan Wangji request them.

But it was Lan Sizhui who lived in the Frost-Laden Manor, alone and from a young age. Due to illness, he couldn’t remember anything from before when he woke up in the Frost-Laden Manor. He remembered seeing Lan Wangji when he came to, with a cold cloth on his forehead and his clothes drenched in sweat.

The medicine was bitter, he remembered. But the servants were kind-hearted, never treating him as anything more distant than one of their own children.

However, he truly did feel quite lonely in the Frost-Laden Manor. Eating, sleeping, learning, and cultivating. Lan Wangji cultivated his golden core from a young age, allowing him to join the Gusu Lan Sect once it had begun to solidify its reputation and presence.

Now, he lived in the dormitories of the Lan Sect grounds, but whenever he felt lonely, he would make the trek to the heavily-guarded Rimefrost Villa.

Every time he visited, Lan Wangji was there to greet him. It was normally late at night when he visited, as the journey from the dormitories to the Rimefrost Villa was nothing easy, and maneuvering via sword was too flashy. But regardless of the hour, Lan Wangji graciously welcomed him in.

Lan Sizhui also found that the Rimefrost Villa was lonely, but with Lan Wangji, it was a little less lonely. It reminded him of his days at the Frost-Laden Manor, where Lan Wangji regularly visited to look after him.

Tonight, Lan Sizhui’s chest felt tight as he walked up the palace steps, one by one. His cloth boots made soft footsteps, and the sound of his sword lightly tapping against his leg as he walked made a rhythmic beat to walk to.

As he approached, he heard the soft sound of guqin music. He thought nothing of it until he got closer and closer to the Rimefrost Villa, realizing that it was Lan Wangji who must be playing.

How sad the notes were, ringing barrenly into the cold air.

Lan Sizhui watched his breath cloud up in front of his face as he approached the nearby guard, “Hanguang— His Majesty is awake?”

The guard nodded, whispering, “He woke up not long ago.”

Lan Sizhui walked in front of the gates. Lan Wangji normally did not play guqin so late into the night.

The last few notes of the lonely melody rang out into a deafening silence, and Lan Sizhui rapped his knuckles on the door, “Hanguang-jun, it’s me.”

He heard soft footsteps approaching before the doors opened slightly. Lan Wangji, covered in shadows, smelled strongly of lavender. His face was as stone-cold as ever, but Lan Sizhui could see a tinge of melancholy in his lightless eyes.

Lan Wangji stepped aside for Lan Sizhui to slip inside, and the doors shut promptly behind him.

It wasn’t until the doors were closed that Lan Wangji asked softly, “Cannot sleep?”

Lan Sizhui dipped his head, and Lan Wangji understood, “The Begonia Room is open for you whenever.”

“Thank you, Hanguang-jun.”

Lan Wangji drifted away, his layers of floor-length robes giving off the impression that he was a ghost. Lan Sizhui watched him disappear behind the doors of the Quiet Room.

When Lan Sizhui first visited the Rimefrost Villa, Lan Wangji only had one rule.

He was free to go inside any room except for the Quiet Room.

The Rimefrost Villa was vast and soothing, so Lan Sizhui never had an urge to enter the Quiet Room whenever Lan Wangji was not around. However, he couldn’t deny that occasionally, his gaze would drift in that direction, making up a slew of theories as to what could be inside.

In the visitor’s hall, Lan Sizhui took a careful look at the two swords displayed on either side of the central chair. One was light blue and silver—the other was gray and black.

He had asked Lan Wangji who the owners of the swords were, but he had given him a vague answer. He only said that they were swords from a skilled cultivator couple, gifted to them after their deaths. The lighter color sword was called Zhensi, and the darker color sword was called Huansheng.

Zhensi emanated a cool, untouchable aura, while Huansheng gave off a “try me, I dare you” sort of energy.

From behind him, a voice called out, “Every time you visit, you take a look at these swords.”

Lan Sizhui turned around, seeing Lan Wangji approach. He dipped his head, “I cannot sleep, and I find myself strangely drawn to these swords.”

Lan Wangji tilted his head, “These swords are sealed, only able to be drawn by the cultivators’ descendants.”

Lan Sizhui turned back around, looking at the pure energy drumming through Zhensi, “Their descendants…”

Lan Wangji walked forward and took down Zhensi from the sword stand. Then, while holding it with one hand, he offered it towards Lan Sizhui, “Try and draw it.”

Lan Sizhui looked down at Zhensi, and then back up at Lan Wangji, “Hanguang-jun, this…”

“It doesn’t hurt to try.”

Lan Sizhui took in Lan Wangji’s curt response, and found his hand floating up to the strong handle. Underneath his hovering palm, he could feel Zhensi’s polarizing energy lick at his skin, sending tingles up his wrist.

Then he took a firm hold of the sword and pulled.

In a bright glare, Zhensi unsheathed itself. Its pure white blade had its name engraved into the blade near the hilt, but it gave no reflection. Lan Sizhui could only see a white fog when he looked into the blade, too muddled and bright for a reflection to shine through.

When he looked at Lan Wangji, he saw that the latter did not seem surprised.

Lan Sizhui’s arm began to shake, and with a swipe of his hand, Lan Wangji summoned the sword out of his hand and back into its sheath. It hummed with an excited energy, and Lan Sizhui rubbed his sore arm, “Hanguang-jun…”

“Zhensi is my father’s sword. Huansheng is my mother’s.” He answered his silent question, and Lan Sizhui understood why he asked him to draw it.

“Then, that means that Zhensi…” He trailed off, incredulous.

“Your arm hurts because this is a first-class spiritual weapon, and your cultivation is too weak to handle it at the moment.” Lan Wangji rattled off expertly, “But once you are able to wield it, you may carry it with you.”

Lan Sizhui’s gaze drifted towards Zhensi, watching as Lan Wangji placed it back on the sword stand. Lan Wangji added, “On your first visit, Zhensi resonated to you the most, and you naturally gravitate towards it.”

Lan Sizhui’s lips parted, but he said nothing. Lan Wangji noticed this small detail, but did not press, simply continuing, “I had Jingyi visit, and he experienced the same with Huansheng. But when he attempted to unsheathe it, he couldn’t.”

Lan Sizhui’s shoulders rose slightly, “Then… isn’t that…”

Lan Wangji closed his eyes, “I thought the same thing. But it wasn’t that Huansheng was rejecting him—Jingyi’s cultivation was simply too low.”

Lan Sizhui fell silent, piecing the pieces together. Lan Wangji glanced at Huansheng, “Seeing that you are able to wield Zhensi, I believe Jingyi can wield Huansheng.”

Lan Sizhui parted his lips again, but the words became stuck at his throat, and an overwhelming feeling of guilt washed over him like a bucket of cold water. Lan Wangji noticed this again, and let out a soft sigh, “I knew Jingyi can handle the failure. But Sizhui, if you could not wield Zhensi, I’m afraid that you would be able to forgive yourself. That’s why I allowed Jingyi to try first.”

The cold water feeling washed away, and he dipped his head, “I see.”

“It is late.” Lan Wangji looked out the window, his gaze landing on the crescent moon, “Get some sleep.”

Jiang Cheng remembered one of Wei Wuxian’s visits, when they had gotten onto the topic of Jiang Yanli’s child.

Jiang Yanli had laughed, “A-Xian, I still need to find a boy’s name.”

Wei Wuxian had hummed in thought for a while, “I’ve got it—Rulan.”

Jiang Cheng scoffed, “‘Rulan’? ‘Lan’ as in Lan Wangji’s ‘Lan’?”

“You gave him the birth name, and I didn’t object—it’s only natural that I should be able to give him his courtesy name without judgment!”

Their bickering had faded in Jiang Cheng’s memory as he watched Jin Ling training in the courtyard of the Lakeside Manor.

Because his father was a palace official half of the time, Jin Ling would accompany him to the Cloud Recesses. Over the years, Jiang Cheng watched him grow up to be a capable Jin Sect disciple. Whenever he visited, he would stay in the Lakeside Manor and occasionally even train with the Gusu Lan Sect.

A sword glare ripped through the air, and Jiang Cheng immediately recognized this as his spiritual sword, Yongjiu, forged five years ago and gifted to Jin Ling on his tenth birthday. Its name, meaning “permanence”, was almost an opposite from his father’s Suihua, meaning “the passage of time”.

Yongjiu ripped slashes through the sandy courtyard as Jin Ling flipped and flew around, practicing his combination moves and battle maneuvers. Jiang Cheng watched from the half-open paper window before he finished his cup of tea and stood up.

When he approached the courtyard, Jin Ling immediately stopped and gave a small bow, “Uncle.”

“Jin Ling,” Jiang Cheng crossed his arms, “what sort of moveset was that?”

“Ah,” Jin Ling awkwardly shifted in his feet, “I might’ve mixed a Lanling Jin step pattern with a Yunmeng Jiang sword movement…”

Jiang Cheng’s frown stayed put as he closed his eyes, “Doing so leaves your left side wide open. One moment of confusion, and you can find yourself cut in half. Do the Lotus Formation one hundred more times.”

Jin Ling groaned, but seeing Jiang Cheng’s fatal glare, he quickly shut himself up.

When Jin Ling began the first set, Jiang Cheng heard languid footsteps from behind him, “Jiang Wanyin, how harsh you are to my son.”

“Jin Zixuan,” Jiang Cheng answered without turning his head, “you spoil him too much. Look at his arms—he can just barely handle Yongjiu.”

“Isn’t the easiest way to handle a first-class spiritual weapon to train with one?” Jin Zixuan laughed as he stood next to Jiang Cheng, “It’s not as if he will be going on night hunts alone. And if anything were to happen, Yongjiu is trained to maneuver itself in cases of emergency.”

Jiang Cheng scoffed with a smile, “Allowing your son to sustain no injuries when downed, how gracious of you.”

“It’s not that nice. Yongjiu will only block fatal blows or send Jin Ling to safety.” Jin Zixuan hummed, “It can also do that one thing—I’m sure I told you, hm?”

Jiang Cheng nodded before he finally looked at Jin Zixuan, “I’ve just returned from the Lotus Pier—is there anything new in the palace?”

Jin Zixuan tilted his head with a thoughtful look, “Not really. His Majesty is handling China’s affairs quite smoothly. After Jin Guangyao’s exile, all of the resentful puppets seemed to have permanently ceased in their motions.”

Jiang Cheng hummed, “So it was him, puppeteering them whilst placing the blame on Wei Wuxian.”

At the sound of that name, Jin Zixuan’s disposition seemed to shift. Jiang Cheng lowered his eyelids.

The only sounds were of Jin Ling’s training for a while until Jin Zixuan lifted his head, “Yanli is getting along quite nicely with my mother. I haven’t seen my mother so happy before.”

Jiang Cheng retained a small smile, “I’m glad.”

“Come visit when you are able to.” Jin Zixuan posited, “Because the journey is long and dangerous, I hesitate to bring her to the Cloud Recesses too often.”

“And Jin Ling is much better?” Jiang Cheng playfully scoffed, “Look at him, he took after the version of you when you were a teenager—pompous, princess-like, and truly like a peaco*ck.”

“Good for you, Jiang Wanyin!” Jin Zixuan landed a soft punch to Jiang Cheng’s shoulder, “Now that our relationship has gone from prince-to-advisor to brother-in-laws, you’ve become more free with your words!”

Jiang Cheng bared a sharp fang as he grinned, “What about you? Now that you’re not restrained by the palace decorum, you’re finally starting to be more approachable!”

After a while, Jin Ling took a small break, running over, “Dad!”

Jin Zixuan smiled until his eyes became crescents.

A teacup shattered on the ground, and Lan Xichen could hear a maid scurry into the dark room, “Your Majesty…”

Lan Xichen lifted his weary head, seeing Linzhi, the head maid of the Frost-Laden Manor. Faintly, in the midst of his brain fog, he remembered that she was married to the head servant, Yongle.

Lan Xichen squinted, biting the inside of his cheek as he bit, “Leave.”

Linzhi dipped her head and departed, and the room fell to silence.

When he had read the letter from Dongying, his world had shattered into irreparable pieces. It was from a contact in Dongying, who had informed Lan Xichen that Jin Guangyao had not made it to the safehouse twelve years ago because he was found dead in a well.

The face could not be confirmed with the portrait that Lan Xichen sent in an earlier letter—as it was too blue, beaten, and bloated to be an accurate test of identity. They were only convinced that it was him because of his scarce belongings and foreign clothing.

However, his contact had mailed him a package with a pendant found on the body, asking him to see if he recognized it.

Upon seeing the jade carving of a Sparks Amidst Snow peony, Lan Xichen’s throat knotted. He found it difficult to breathe, wheezing as he inhaled more and more but could not exhale a single breath.

When he finally exhaled, it was shaky and punctuated, with hot tears gathering at his waterline. In the presence of Jiahao, he could not allow himself to show any more emotion than he already had, so he slipped the pendant back into the envelope and declared his seclusion.

He wrote one last letter to Dongying to his contact with a few parcels of gifts for his decade-long efforts, and kept the pendant close to him.

Now, as he laid in a flowerbed of shattered porcelain, he clutched the pendant hung around his belt. His thumb ran over the intricate etchings of the peony petals. His torso swayed back and forth, his other hand propping himself up from the floor.

The knot in his throat never left. Whenever he fell asleep on the floor, it was there when he passed out. When he woke up, it was still there, like a haunting ghost that was suffocating him.

Lan Wangji visited when he could, cleaning up whatever mess Lan Xichen made after learning that he would wave away every servant that tried to clean it up. Only Lan Wangji could enter the room without Lan Xichen protesting.

Every day he visited, Lan Wangji would pack him back into the bed underneath a tightly-fitted quilt. The wooden floor was scrubbed clean, and any debris was swept away with the broken belongings replaced in the morning.

And Lan Xichen would break them again, only for them to be replaced again, continuing the cycle.

Once, when Lan Wangji lingered in the morning, Lan Xichen asked him hoarsely, “Why don’t you just empty the room?”

Lan Wangji had poured him a small cup of water, and said simply, “If there was nothing in this room for you to break, you would break yourself.”

Lan Xichen had stopped talking, watching Lan Wangji walk away in his pure white funerary robes.

He remembered Jin Guangyao walking away from him when the edict of his exile had been delivered. Lan Xichen was the one to declare this with a bitter heart. Seeing all of the previous connection and affection being stripped away, eyes devoid of any positive feeling, Lan Xichen thought there couldn’t be a worse feeling.

But as he ran his thumb over the pendant, he found that this was the worst feeling.

In the twelve-year period of limbo where Jin Guangyao had gone missing and could not be found, Lan Xichen had been worried sick. But thinking in hindsight, perhaps he would’ve been much happier not knowing.

Lan Xichen leaned backwards, the back of his head hooking over the edge of the bed. He stared up at the pitch-black ceiling.

The room was only illuminated with light when Lan Wangji visited, as he worked much better in light. But for Lan Xichen, who did nothing but eat and sleep in this room, the blacked-out windows were a welcome addition. In the darkness, he could see whatever he wanted, like he was eternally closing his eyes and hoping for a nice dream.

Once, Lan Xichen had asked Lan Wangji for a packet of that lavender-scented Fleeting Reverie incense. But his brother refused him, saying that this was a form of self-harm, and he did not have the heart to watch Lan Xichen fall into that spiral.

“But Wangji,” Lan Xichen closed his eyes as he croaked, “you smell of the stuff.”

Lan Wangji did not respond. Later, Lan Xichen found a bundle of packets at his door.

Chapter 19: hark the harbinger’s reveille

Chapter Text

”I want to remember.”

The words rang in Baoshan Sanren’s head, like the sound of a bell reverberating at the footpath near a town, signaling danger and war.

When the soul had finally answered her after eight years, Baoshan Sanren asked him again. He reiterated himself, saying that as time passes, he may miss this window of opportunity and regret it later. If he had lived a life full of regrets, then he wished that this may not be one.

So Baoshan Sanren closed her eyes, and sent the pieces of his soul back into the husk he came from. Once again, it was lonely in her snow-white pavilion.

She constantly found herself lonely, having thought that she, as an immortal, was immune to such secular feelings. It wasn’t until the last shard of the soul had zipped down the mountain with glee that Baoshan Sanren found her mountain to be too quiet. Even the morning birds did not dare to chirp.

She looked down, watching the dead autumn leaves pile up near the foot of the pavilion legs. It had been a while since she called a disciple over to sweep it up.

Did she have any disciples left? She couldn’t quite remember.

When was the last time she called for one to perform such a mundane task as sweeping away leaves?

Baoshan Sanren laughed to herself, flipping her sleeves as a gust of wind blew the dead foliage away and over the side of the mountain.

When was the last time someone called her Ruan Daiyu?

Her face wrinkled as she gripped her fist tighter on the banister of the pavilion.

She could faintly remember Lan Yi calling out to her, “Big Sister Daiyu, come on! A-Mao is waiting for us at the tavern!”

Baoshan Sanren opened her clenched eyes, “Cangse— Luo Dongmei, your son reminds me of many bad memories.”

She looked down, past the mountain and stairs, seeing soft clouds floating by. She thought of her brief time in the mortal world, when she had spent only a few days (like minutes to her at this point) watching the sky and clouds from above her for the first time in ages.

She remembered being children alongside Lan Yi, Wen Mao, and Xue Chonghai—all ambitious aspiring-cultivators with numerous dreams and heroic desires.

Lan Yi was destined to be a royal princess, but she desperately wanted to be an empress instead. Wen Mao, the only son to two wealthy cultivators, wanted to raise his own sect. Xue Chonghai was the most humble, wanting only to raise a few livestock in the countryside after exploring the world.

What was it that she, when she was still Ruan Daiyu, wanted? She couldn’t quite remember, but figured that it must’ve been something quite secular and useless to her now, for having forgotten only her own.

Or perhaps she purposefully blocked it out of her memory, having seen that her friends had accomplished their wishes. Lan Yi had indeed become the first Empress of China in history. Wen Mao erected the Qishan Wen Sect with royal support. Xue Chonghai had gone to explore the world, writing letters about the various animals he encountered.

It irked her now, realizing that she had forgotten what exactly it was that she had forgotten.

Before now, she never thought about it. For centuries, she had lived with the clouds at her feet with the boundless sky above her. Now, for the first time in a long time, the clouds were above her—the same as they were when she was a small child.

Thinking of how strange yet nostalgic that feeling was, a cold sensation ran up her body—like stepping into a frigid, refreshing pond. After some time, she allowed herself a small moment to smile as she carefully parsed through these memories.

“For that, I hope to never see him again.”

When Wei Wuxian breathed the first breath of life, the first thing he felt was extreme pain.

An overwhelming bout of pain tore through him, sundering his skin and ripping lacerations through his muscles. Memories surged into his head—the feeling of being covered in sunlight and blood, the taste of jasmine and rotten flesh, the smell of sandalwood and ash.

In the late morning light, Wei Wuxian’s jaw unhinged as a scream erupted from between his lips. Tears immediately began to run down his face as he arched off the bed, the rippling waves of agony tearing through him relentlessly.

Like an illusion, he could feel his calloused fingers digging into a hole in his stomach. In another swirling vision, an overwhelming warmth was burning through his skin. In another, his stomach caved in with hunger, and dirt was caked up underneath his fingernails.

Whenever he moved his head, it was as if it was in slow-motion. He could feel his brain reeling against his skull, his lungs pressing against his ribcage as he wheezed for air. It took him a moment to realize that he was sitting straight up, covered in a thin layer of cold sweat.

Miraculously, as his vision swirled back to normalcy and the memories settled down, Wei Wuxian’s body felt quite light. A hot presence in his right hand began to stir in his palm, and as he held it up to the light, he found that it was a swirling, golden orb.

It was similar to the energy form of the Scroll of Guanyin, something he had seen just moments before Baoshan Sanren implanted it in him. However, this one was much smaller and much brighter.

Wei Wuxian scrutinized the ball for a moment, feeling the raw spiritual energy humming at his touch. It seemed weak to the touch, as if it would shatter.

Baoshan Sanren had not given him any instructions when she had sent his soul down to reclaim his body. He could only remember swallowing the Scroll of Guanyin whole, feeling it slide down into his stomach cavity when it eventually settled.

Was he to do the same? But the ball of energy was quite hot, and would definitely scald his throat.

Then again, it seemed as if it was about to scatter, and maybe there was no harm in treating the ball of energy as he had treated the scroll. Perhaps once it settled, that hag would finally tell him his new mission.

Another mission. The thought of it made Wei Wuxian’s heart sink.

Was he subject to live the rest of his life as a servant, bending to the will of sect leaders and immortals alike to help the people around him?

He thought of Lan Wangji before shaking his head away.

The ball of energy was small, condensing into a sizable pill as Wei Wuxian brought it up to his mouth. Although it left a red mark of heat on his palm, it did not burn its way down. It descended faster than the heavy, clunky scroll had.

When it settled, a memory cropped up in his mind, as vivid as daylight and clear as summer rain:

”There will be a last mission under me, where you have walked the line between the gates of life and death, and that is to live the life you see fit—brought to the world anew and free.”

Wei Wuxian, feeling the ball of energy sink into his gut, felt much lighter. As it settled, his long-dormant meridians surged to life, and the flow of spiritual energy coursed through them like a tidal wave.

It was a new golden core—weak and small, the same size of an eight-year-old kid’s core—but it was a golden core.

A second chance. Wei Wuxian’s shoulders trembled as he allowed himself to cry, clutching his arms and bringing himself together as the blanket slipped off his knees.

He was wearing thin, black robes—recently laundered and smelling of lotuses. When he opened them, he saw two scars running up his lower abdomen.

The older, more faded one was from the core transfer; the newer one was from the scroll extraction.

He ran a thumb over the bumpy edges before he looked around, tying his robes back together.

Because of the lotus smell, he figured that he must be in the Lotus Pier, or perhaps the Lakeside Manor. However, there was also the scent of sandalwood and lavender, and after taking a good look around the place, he quickly came to realize that he was in the Quiet Room of the Rimefrost Villa.

Wei Wuxian leapt from the bed in a daze, walking immediately outside to see if anyone was around—perhaps Lan Xichen or Lan Wangji.

However, he saw no one: not even a hint of a servant. He quickly returned to the Quiet Room.

On the table was a used tea set: amber tea stains lining the bottom of the white jade teacup, the wooden board where a still-drying tea pet gleamed its gemstone eyes at him. There was also an incense burner from where the lavender scent was coming from—the familiar smell of the Fleeting Reverie incense coming to Wei Wuxian’s mind.

It was faint and likely on its last breath, probably lit the previous night and not restored. Wei Wuxian walked further into the room.

This section of the Quiet Room served as Lan Wangji’s study. There was a desk where he played guqin after the treatments, now covered with books and paperwork splayed open. When Wei Wuxian peered at the contents, he found that they were medical books and musical scores.

He swiped a finger over one of the open books, finding that there was a layer of dust.

He frowned. Shouldn’t there have been a servant to clean it up? Not only did he refuse to put up the books, he didn’t even dust it!

Looking around the back section, he noticed a suit of armor displayed in the back corner, covered in shadows. When Wei Wuxian approached it, the unpleasant odor of gore and battle hit his nose.

He stumbled backwards, squinting to discern the strange item.

What he found could barely be considered a suit of armor—the cloth pieces were torn to tatters, and the metal plating was cracked and dented. It seemed to just barely be held together, perhaps with a charm or supportive beams.

Come to look at it, Wei Wuxian thought that the fine material (as fine as it would’ve looked in its prime) could only be used to make uniforms for high-ranking officials. Given this, he deduced that it must be Lan Wangji’s imperial general armor.

Looking at the structure and build, it was one used for heavy-duty war, to be found adorned by a man on horseback carrying a fearsome weapon. It normally came with an ornate helmet, but Wei Wuxian could not find it here.

He laughed to himself. Lan Wangji, a man who despised publicity and popularity, had shown up to battle wearing his face.

Wei Wuxian stopped laughing. This suit of armor, used only in war, was on display completely ruined.

A war?

Where was Lan Wangji?

He wheeled around, looking at the eerily empty room.

Where was Lan Wangji?

He calmed himself. The incense burner was burning last night, and the tea set looked relatively recent. He took a few deep breaths.

No one would dare step into the Quiet Room without Lan Wangji’s permission, and he had only ever given permission to Wei Wuxian. Beyond that, if Lan Wangji truly kept his body here, he definitely would not have allowed someone else to enter.

He paused his thought.

Why was he in the Quiet Room?

Only his soul was recovered by Baoshan Sanren. His physical body was wherever it landed—and it ended up being in the Quiet Room?

For thirteen years, Lan Wangji kept his corpse? And it was still pristine?

Lan Wangji.

Oh.

He probably despised Wei Wuxian for dying without a warning.

Wei Wuxian felt his blood drain from his head and settle into the pits of his guts, churning his intestines.

His first thought was to flee. There seemed to be no one in the Rimefrost Villa at this moment.

He cursed. The invisibility barrier that Baoshan Sanren granted him had broken upon death, and he did not know how to revive it. At most, he knew only a few spells, but the golden core was much too weak to handle them, and there was no scroll to supplement it.

He searched every nook and cranny of the Quiet Room, but none of his belongings were present. It was as if his existence in the room was wiped completely away.

A thought plagued his mind: perhaps Lan Wangji truly did hate him for what he did, erasing every trace of him from the Quiet Room.

It still didn’t explain why his corpse was kept in perfect condition. Was Lan Wangji in cahoots with Baoshan Sanren, waiting for him to be revived so that Lan Wangji could deal with Wei Wuxian?

Chills ran up his spine, but he didn’t have the time to dilly-dally. He just needed to get out of the Rimefrost Villa, probably leave Gusu as well—

“It’s only for a moment,” an unfamiliar voice whispered from the door, “I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. Please forgive me!”

Wei Wuxian’s blood ran cold. Thankfully, he was hidden behind a few walls, so he could hide. But, the figure sneaking in definitely did not have Lan Wangji’s permission, or he wouldn’t have begged for forgiveness.

He wanted to sneak a peek to see who it was, but he couldn’t bring himself to risk it. He could tell that the owner of the voice was rather young, and couldn’t be any older than fifteen or sixteen years old.

“Ah?” The figure seemed surprised, “The bed is unmade.”

Footsteps approached the bed that Wei Wuxian woke up in. But then the figure jumped back, “Warm? But it has been hours since…”

He trailed off, and Wei Wuxian inwardly tensed.

The figure called out, “Is there anyone in here?”

Wei Wuxian did not answer, inwardly pleading, ”No one’s here, just please leave!!”

But the footsteps approached, and Wei Wuxian began to panic. Then, an idea struck him, the only one he could as he currently did not have the strength to climb the walls.

He deepened his voice, trying to mimic Lan Wangji as he spoke, “Leave.”

The figure seemed to believe it for a moment, “Han— Hanguang-jun?! Why… Why do you sound like that?”

Crap! “I caught a small cold, please leave.”

“Shall I fetch a doctor?”

“No need.” Scram, kid, scram!!

Then, Wei Wuxian’s eye shot open as a voice from further back called out, “Sizhui?”

sh*t! That was Lan Wangji—the Hanguang-jun that the kid thought he was talking to!!

“H— H— Han— Hanguang-jun?!” Sizhui stuttered, piecing syllables together as he struggled to find them, “Then— Then—“

But it seemed that Lan Wangji was not standing around, and he stormed inside the room in a panic, “Where is he?”

“A— Ah?”

“The person laying there—where is he?”

Lan Wangji’s voice was cold and daunting, like a wall of frost and ice that froze the entire room. Sizhui was completely petrified it seemed, barely able to breathe it seemed with the incomprehensible noises that emitted from his mouth.

Wei Wuxian began to sweat before he stood up and cleared his throat, “Ahh! You know… haha.. I must’ve— stumbled inside! I’ll be on my way out now, thank you!”

With his arm covering his face, he emerged from behind the wall and immediately bolted for the door.

However, Lan Wangji was not here to play around. With a strong surge of spiritual energy, he sent out a pulse of energy that knocked the wind out of Wei Wuxian and stopped him in his tracks. Immediately as he stumbled backwards, Lan Wangji held out an arm to catch him.

His sturdy arm dug into his chest as Wei Wuxian was toppled forward from the force, his arms hooked over the arm. The first thing to hit him was a stench of lavender, that although should normally be quite fragrant, instead had a stinging nature.

Wei Wuxian expected a fight to happen, and he braced himself for a hit. However, it never came.

Instead, in the most tender of voices, Lan Wangji’s arm trembled as he quietly spoke, “Wei Ying?”

Lan Jingyi never really explored the palace, even though as an adoptive son of the Acting Emperor, he surely had the freedom and right to.

Even though the sect grounds had been explored thoroughly, and Lan Jingyi hated the lectures and training, he never felt a pull to trek the nearly four thousand steps up to the palace.

“Three thousand, seven hundred, and ninety-nine steps, Jingyi.” Lan Sizhui had clarified before with that annoyingly calm smile of his.

Lan Jingyi groaned just thinking about it. Who cares if it was four thousand or three thousand seven hundred and ninety-nine?! It was about five thousand steps too many!!

Lan Sizhui took the journey up nearly five days a week, for every week of the year! Lan Jingyi was beginning to feel overshadowed.

So when he had a large gap in his schedule, he made the travel up and decided to explore everywhere he could. After all, he had the ability to, and he wanted the trip to be productive!

At about the four hundredth step, Lan Jingyi wanted to die.

He definitely was going to make this trip worthwhile, as he was never doing this again.

The Cloud Recesses forbade maneuvering via sword within its perimeters unless it was in times of emergencies.

But goddammit, couldn’t they have made an elevator or something?!

Lan Jingyi groaned, turning around to sit down at the six hundredth step to rest. How could Lan Sizhui do this trip twice in a day for nearly five days every week?

Lan Jingyi put a hand on his thigh, measuring its muscle mass. Lan Sizhui probably had jacked leg muscles. He frowned, standing up not long after he sat down.

He wasn’t about to let Lan Sizhui beat him!

…

Okay, maybe he was.

Lan Jingyi sat down again at the six hundred and twenty-fifth step, groaning with his face in his hands.

Looking at the time, not much time had actually passed, but his legs were most definitely on fire and if he were to take another step, he might trip and tumble all the way back down.

Thinking about it now though, maybe it wasn’t so bad. He’d suffer a few bruises, but maybe he could end up at the bottom and give up without needing to shamefully walk his way down.

As he laid backwards as much as he could, the stone steps digging into his lower back, he could faintly hear the footsteps of another victim of the stairs.

Energy surged in him as he stood up to get a better look at the afflicted person below.

It was a boy about his age, wearing pale green disciple’s robes that Lan Jingyi recognized from the Baling Ouyang Sect. He had a basket strapped to his back and multiple bags of goods tied onto his body wherever they could be held. It was quite an ecosystem.

When the boy made eye contact with him, the latter waved, “Brother, you’re suffering too?”

The boy smiled wearily, “Looks like we are!”

Life sprang forth in both of the boys’ eyes as Lan Jingyi waited for him to slowly make his way up to his level, “Who are you?”

“Ah!” The boy saluted, “Ouyang Zizhen, disciple of the Baling Ouyang Sect. And you?”

“Ohh, you must be the Sect Leader’s son!” Lan Jingyi grinned as he saluted back, “Lan Jingyi, disciple of the Gusu Lan Sect!”

Ouyang Zizhen startled, nearly toppling over, “L— Lan—“

Lan Jingyi held Ouyang Zizhen fast by the shoulder, stabilizing him, “Aiya, let’s not bring that up. We are brothers now, embarking on the same grueling journey. Whoever we may be is irrelevant.”

Ouyang Zizhen seemed to have too many words to say, eventually saying nothing as he nodded, “Then… Brother—you’re also walking up?”

“Yep!” Lan Jingyi looked behind Ouyang Zizhen, seeing a basket strapped to his back, “What’s in there?”

Ouyang Zizhen looked behind him as if to confirm, “Oh, my dad sent me out to get some medicinal herbs from Caiyi Town.”

He uncomfortably shifted the basket around, peeling the straps off his shoulders before resting them down on them again. Lan Jingyi dropped his grin but kept his bright disposition, “You look tired, let me carry that for you.”

As Lan Jingyi went to grab the straps, Ouyang Zizhen lurched backwards, “My Lord, I can’t!”

Lan Jingyi burst out laughing, “A lord? Me?! Brother Zizhen, you’re really funny! I told you, we’re brothers-in-arms now, ah?”

Ouyang Zizhen looked down at his hip before looking back up, “But I forgot to bring my sword, how can we be brothers-in-arms…”

Lan Jingyi blinked before laughing, “It’s just an expression, aha… forget about it, just let me carry that for you, ah?”

Ouyang Zizhen looked as if he wanted to protest again, but the words jumbled up in his mouth as he watched Lan Jingyi take the basket off his shoulders and place it around his own.

“Isn’t that much better?” Lan Jingyi beamed, “Now, let’s get going, hm?”

As soon as he took a step up, pain and soreness shot up his leg, and he nearly buckled. As he bit down on his lips to stifle a cry, Ouyang Zizhen couldn’t take it anymore and quickly retrieved the basket, “My Lor— Brother, let me hold it, okay?!”

Ouyang Zizhen fastened the straps back over his shoulders and sighed, “Normally a trip like this isn’t so bad, I just haven’t had enough sleep. Don’t worry about me, ah?”

Lan Jingyi froze as he massaged his sore legs, “‘Isn’t so bad’?”

“Yeah.” Ouyang Zizhen began to walk forward.

Lan Jingyi quickly followed alongside him, walking through the pain, “Brother Zizhen, how often do you go up and down these stairs?”

“Hm?” Ouyang Zizhen looked up at the blue, cloudy sky, “I think maybe, two or three times? Four if we’re really out of stock, I can only hold so much each trip…”

“...”

Chapter 20: blood which drips from petals

Chapter Text

“Wei Ying?”

Lan Wangji’s voice, having only said three syllables, managed to still crack—like he was talking within a gasp while still losing his breath.

Wei Wuxian stood there, suspended by Lan Wangji’s shaking arm as he forced a crooked smile, “Zhan-er, hahaha…”

At the sound of the nickname, the one that he had initially hated but had grown on him, Lan Wangji hooked his wrist around and pulled Wei Wuxian in, wrapping his arms immediately around him without another word.

With swift hands, as he embraced him, he captured Wei Wuxian’s wrist between his thumb and index fingers, noticing that a healthy spiritual energy pulse—previously absent—was now present.

He shot Wei Wuxian an astonished expression. Through his peripheral vision, Wei Wuxian had returned it with a face that expressed a thousand words.

Lan Sizhui was still standing in front of them, frozen with fear and now confused at the sudden turn of events. Lan Wangji only closed his eyes, clenching them shut tightly. He was glad that his mouth was pressed firmly against Wei Wuxian’s shoulders, or Lan Sizhui would have seen the rare sight of him smiling.

Wei Wuxian was warm, so very warm, brimming with new life and looking as healthy as he could ever look. Wei Wuxian wrapped his arms around Lan Wangji's back, and the latter tightened his hold, burying his face into the thinly-clothed shoulder.

“Zhan-er,” Wei Wuxian’s heart-wrenching voice seeped through the stagnant air, “your, ah, Sizhui behind me…”

At the sound of his name, Lan Sizhui’s posture straightened and he tensed. Lan Wangji let go and stepped back, clearing his throat as he smoothed out the wrinkles in his robes.

When Lan Wangji fixed his gaze on Lan Sizhui, the latter immediately dropped into a ninety-degree bow, rambling at a high speed, “Hanguang-jun, I really didn’t mean to walk inside your Quiet Room, it’s just that I heard a noise and I couldn’t find you—and I know I’m not supposed to go inside but I was really concerned that something or someone or something was happening— and I couldn’t find you—”

Lan Wangji lifted a hand, and Lan Sizhui promptly closed his mouth. After some thought and a deep sigh, Lan Wangji closed his eyes, “Copy the Lan Sect doctrines fifty times.”

Wei Wuxian reeled around, “Zhan-er, you actually implemented all three thousand and five hundred of those sh*tty rules?!”

Lan Wangji shifted his gaze towards Wei Wuxian quickly using the smallest possible movements, and the latter tensed.

“Ah, okay, okay, Wei Ying said wrong, Wei Ying said wrong…” He patted his mouth a few times before he turned to Lan Sizhui, “Sizhui, I don’t quite know you. What sect are you from, and what surname do you bear?”

Lan Sizhui, previously frozen and gloomy, suddenly gained a burst of energy as he saluted, “I am Lan Yuan, courtesy name Lan Sizhui, disciple of the Gusu Lan Sect!”

Wei Wuxian’s ears perked, “Lan?”

A grin grew on his face as he spun around and landed a soft slap on Lan Wangji’s chest, “Good for you, you’ve got a son now?! Who’s the lucky lady that managed to catch your fancy?”

Lan Wangji parted his mouth to respond, but Lan Sizhui beat him to the punch, “Ah, it’s not like that—Hanguang-jun adopted me when I was very young, and I inherited the surname.”

Wei Wuxian whistled, “Look at you, Zhan-er, getting the heir before the wife.”

“Two heirs.” Lan Wangji answered shortly, “There is a Lan Jingyi, unrelated to Sizhui.”

“Ah, really now?” Wei Wuxian exhaled sharply as he chuckled, “Good, good, the Imperial Brother has two formidable heirs!”

Both Lan Wangji and Lan Sizhui stiffened, and Wei Wuxian glanced and both of them, “Did… Did I say something wrong?”

“Young Master Wei,” Lan Sizhui spoke first, “Emperor Lan Xichen is in seclusion. Hanguang-jun is now Acting Emperor.”

Wei Wuxian’s smile dropped and he immediately turned to face Lan Wangji, “Zewu-jun is in seclusion?”

Lan Wangji confirmed it with a firm nod, and Wei Wuxian probed, “Why? What happened?”

Lan Wangji said nothing, glancing at Lan Sizhui. He caught the silent message, and Lan Sizhui quickly excused himself, saying that he slept in and must return to the sect grounds. Wei Wuxian’s watchful gaze followed him as he left, and when he disappeared behind the wall, he focused back onto Lan Wangji, “You’ve sent him away, meaning that not many know why.”

Lan Wangji dipped his head, “My brother received a letter from Dongying. Jin Guangyao’s body was found in a well, beaten and drowned.”

Wei Wuxian furrowed his brow, “Jin Guangyao died? Wasn’t his punishment just exile?”

“Yes. The news came as a shock to him, and he decided to seclude himself in the Frost-Laden Manor.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes wavered, “The Frost-Laden Manor… ah, that’s right, Wen Qing and Wen Ning used to be there—are they still there?”

Lan Wangji lowered his eyelids, exhaling slowly, “There is a lot to catch up on.”

Lan Jingyi had finally made it up the stairs!

Ouyang Zizhen exhaled sharply, “Good, I’m still on time. Brother, this may be where we part.”

Lan Jingyi nodded vigorously, drowning in self-celebration, “I shall see you another time then!”

Ouyang Zizhen, covered in all of the bags and baskets he was equipped with, lightly jogged down the imperial roads. Lan Jingyi could see a faint figure dressed in whites and blues saluting Ouyang Zizhen, and as the figure walked towards Lan Jingyi, he recognized the boy as Lan Sizhui.

Lan Jingyi perked up, “Sizhui!”

Lan Sizhui seemed to have been in a thoughtful daze, jolting back, “Ah, Jingyi?”

“I haven’t seen you all morning!” Lan Jingyi crossed his arms with a smile, “Looks like you’re about to head back down—you should probably hurry up. Isn’t your next lesson in about an hour?”

Lan Sizhui didn’t respond to Lan Jingyi’s question, looking up at him, “Jingyi, the Yiling Patriarch—wasn’t he surnamed Wei?”

Lan Jingyi dropped his arms to his side, recollecting the gossip, “I think so, yeah. ‘Wei Wuxian’, or ‘Wei Wujian’… I think his birth name was something like ‘Wei Ling’, or maybe it was ‘Wei Ming’—”

“‘Wei Ying’?” Lan Sizhui posited.

“Yeah!” Lan Jingyi cracked a smile, “That sounds about right—why do you ask?”

Lan Sizhui parted his lips as if to say something, but he quickly shook his head, “I just couldn’t remember, and it was bothering me.”

“Ahh, I understand how you feel.” Lan Jingyi delivered a light punch to Lan Sizhui’s shoulders, “You should probably get going, or you’ll need to break a few rules and fly your sword down to make it to the lecture on time.”

Even though Lan Jingyi reminded him twice, it seemed that the urgency only came to Lan Sizhui on the second reminder. He jumped, looking up at the sun’s position, “Ah!”

He immediately made his way down the stairs without any further words, and Lan Jingyi could only wave at his swiftly disappearing back. He scratched his head before turning around, facing the gates of the palace.

Lan Jingyi had a great impression of the palace, having heard that expensive decorations would be found for miles, and trees and shrubs of various rarities and varieties were planted around.

However, as he walked through all of the roads and turns, he found the statements to be rather exaggerated. While the trees and shrubs did look quite foreign and uncommon, Lan Jingyi couldn’t really tell the difference from one tree to the next, and both were often quite boring to look at after a few seconds.

The palace was meticulously cleaned, however—pristine and clearly well taken care of. Lan Jingyi was impressed, wondering how many servants there must be if the vast palace could be scrubbed so cleanly that Lan Jingyi could almost see his reflection in the brick.

…

But why couldn’t they invest in an elevator?!

Wei Wuxian knew that thirteen years had passed since he died, but he wasn’t quite prepared for all of the massive changes that had happened in the relatively short period of time.

He leaned backwards with a low whistle, setting down the empty cup of tea, “And that’s it?”

Lan Wangji nodded once, “Mn.”

Wei Wuxian leaned forward this time, placing his chin on his propped up hand, “Jin Guangyao…”

In China, Jin Guangyao was not short of supporters, who had defected to Dongying not long after he had. The ones that stayed in China laid low but still maintained some office positions—and after thirteen years, they had been relatively content with the new leadership.

Jin Guangyao’s enemies were the same in number but dormant. He had been exiled, likely sent off to die in a foreign country, so there would have been little incentive to expend the resources to ensure it.

Out of sight, out of mind, Wei Wuxian thought.

But it seemed that someone held so much hatred for him to go off and send someone to kill him. The resources to send even one person to Dongying was great—the only people with such a power had to be in the palace.

But in the palace, expenses were meticulously recorded, and there had been no strange deviances, Lan Wangji explained. He seemed to have the same thought process.

“All dead ends.” Wei Wuxian whispered to himself, “Then who hates him that much?”

Surely gods and immortals would not care that much about an exiled ex-prince. Even if they did allow him to simply trip down the well, it didn’t explain the beating he endured.

Or perhaps he had just run into the wrong crowd, and while escaping, had fallen down the well to drown.

Even though this was a perfectly acceptable scenario, there was still the itch in the back of Wei Wuxian’s mind that he could not scratch.

“If Jin Guangyao went missing for over a decade,” Wei Wuxian thought aloud, “then one would think that it’s reasonable to assume that he was dead for all twelve of those years.”

“Not reasonable.”

“Exactly: it’s not.” Wei Wuxian perked up, “The autopsy report said that the body was only a bit decomposed, with the facial structures still somewhat intact. He couldn’t have been dead for more than a year at the latest.”

“He was alive for those eleven years.”

“But Emperor Lan’s contact in Dongying reported that Jin Guangyao had not arrived at the safe house he was supposed to arrive at.” Wei Wuxian shook his head lightly, “Even if his contact lied, why go through the trouble of waiting all eleven years and expending resources to do so? It would be much easier to discover his body within the year he was supposed to arrive.”

“A third party.”

“That’s what I’m thinking too. Jin Guangyao’s last known location alive was at the dock, boarding a ship straight to Dongying—it couldn’t have been someone in China.” Wei Wuxian hummed in thought, “The logistics department would have flagged an edict-lacking large request of materials.”

Wei Wuxian’s ears perked as he looked up, “That’s right—you haven’t told me about Huaisang. How is he? Is he doing okay?”

Lan Wangji blinked, perhaps taken aback by the sudden topic shift, “He has kept his position in the logistics department and Qinghe Nie Sect Leader.”

Wei Wuxian laughed to himself, “I never thought Huaisang would actually stay as a sect leader after all these years! With how he is, you would think someone would’ve usurped him.”

“He is known as the Head-Shaker.”

“‘Head-Shaker’?” Wei Wuxian’s mouth fell open in surprise, “Has he actually gotten more aggressive, being so intimidating that he can shake heads now?”

“He is known as the Head-Shaker because all he does is tell people that he doesn’t know anything.”

“…”

Jiang Cheng, despite having so many duties to attend to, could not stop thinking about Jin Guangyao’s death.

Only a select few knew of this, the reason why Lan Xichen went into seclusion. He only knew because Jin Zixuan divulged it to Jiang Yanli, who then divulged it to Jiang Cheng.

Such gossip was against the palace decorum—a suffocating term when referring to the over three thousand rules that made up the doctrine of the Cloud Recesses. But Jin Zixuan was a man of Lanling, and Jiang Cheng’s heart lay in Yunmeng, and those personalities slipped out whenever they talked, from foreigner to foreigner.

Today was Jin Zixuan and Jin Ling’s last day in the Cloud Recesses. They were scheduled to pack up everything and leave the next morning, heading back to Lanling. Because of this, Jin Ling spent a little extra time in the Lakeside Manor.

He said he just wanted to train a bit more, as his compatibility with the Lakeside Manor’s training courtyard was quite great. With such a ridiculous excuse, Jiang Cheng could figure out that he just wanted to spend some more time with his uncle.

Silly child—he must’ve inherited his lying abilities from his father.

As Jiang Cheng reminisced about Jin Zixuan’s early “courting” moments, a booming voice echoed from the gate, “His Majesty has arrived!”

Jiang Cheng shot up from his reading desk, a million thoughts running through his head as he rushed out. For what had he come for? Come to think of it, when was the last time he had visited?

Jin Ling beat him to the entrance, having already knelt and bowed as he should be doing. Good for him! His bratty attitude disappears when it needs to!

Jiang Cheng took his spot next to Jin Ling, bowing his head down as he heard the gates creak open.

Footsteps entered, and Jiang Cheng stayed put. He heard the head eunuch Jiahao’s voice once more, “Rise!”

Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling slowly rose, and as they did, Jiang Cheng noticed that Jiahao and the entourage were quickly exiting the Lakeside Manor. He understood the entourage, but normally Jiahao stayed by Lan Wangji’s side, as he was his direct servant.

When Jiang Cheng lifted his head, only Lan Wangji remained. Jiang Cheng dipped his head, “For what does His Majesty visit the Lakeside Manor for?”

Lan Wangji was stalwartly silent as usual, a deafening silence ringing in the air. Dressed in his ornate emperor’s robes and decorative jewelry, he seemed like an emotionless porcelain doll as he stared forward with a strikingly cold indifference.

Jiang Cheng parted his mouth to ask another question—hopefully to actually get a dialogue going—until he heard a soft chuckle.

First of all, what was funny? Secondly, Lan Wangji never once cracked a smile, much less laughed.

Thirdly, the chuckling sounded awfully familiar…

“Ahahaha!” A voice that was definitively not the esteemed Acting Emperor of China rang out, “Zhan-er, Zhan-er, you’re really a piece of work! You didn’t even budge!”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes shot wide open as a figure stepped out from behind Lan Wangji. His breathing quickened, and through his peripheral vision, he could see that Jin Ling was equally as confused but for different reasons.

Jiang Cheng took a step forward, “Wei Wuxian?”

Wei Wuxian, true as day, smiled his signature grin, “Yep, it’s me—surprised?”

Jin Ling whirled around, “Uncle, is this—“

“‘Uncle’?” Wei Wuxian interrupted, “Ah! You’re Shi-jie’s kid?!”

Jiang Cheng finally found the strength to step forward and deliver a hard punch to Wei Wuxian’s collarbone, “Wei Wuxian, you bastard!”

Wei Wuxian took the blow with a flinch. Lan Wangji went to react but Wei Wuxian stopped him, “Don’t—I expected this!”

Jiang Cheng meant to aim for the fleshy part underneath Wei Wuxian’s collarbone, but his knuckles hit the bone itself. Nevertheless, he grabbed Wei Wuxian’s lapels, “Do you have any idea how long it’s been since you f*cking died?! And you choose now to come back?!”

Wei Wuxian allowed himself to be grabbed, “I didn’t know! I’m here now, aren’t I? Jiang Cheng, look at you making a scene in front of our nephew!”

“Screw that!” Jiang Cheng’s knees buckled as he dragged Wei Wuxian down to the ground, “Wei Wuxian— Wei Wuxian, you f*cking dick. You didn’t tell anyone that you were going to f*cking die! A-Jie has been praying non-stop for— hoping your soul could come visit— because it disappeared almost immediately after you died…”

On the ground, Jiang Cheng ripped away his skin of dignity and bore himself bare to the Lakeside Manor, blubbering endlessly with an iron-clad grip on Wei Wuxian’s lapels. Wei Wuxian listened without a word, his hands resting on Jiang Cheng’s back as Jiang Cheng bowed inward.

Inwardly, as he began to cry, he was so happy.

“f*ck you!” Jiang Cheng screamed, his voice cracking embarrassingly, “Wei Wuxian, you should’ve told us you would’ve died. Why did you tell me anything? Why did you have to f*cking die?!”

Jiang Cheng let go of Wei Wuxian’s lapels and began to weakly pound at his chest. Realizing that Wei Wuxian would just take the abuse, he stopped. The top of his head was still pressed to Wei Wuxian’s sternum as he never left the pseudo-bow.

After a while, Wei Wuxian finally spoke, rubbing Jiang Cheng’s back soothingly, “Didi, if I had told you, you would act like this, and I don’t think I would be able to handle it.”

“Then don’t go.” Jiang Cheng choked out, “A-Jie told you to stay alive, and you broke that promise.”

Wei Wuxian stilled for a moment, and then his shoulders shook as if he were holding back tears, “I’m sorry. I had to break that promise.”

Jiang Cheng stayed kneeling on the ground for hours, having finally found himself above the palace decorum.

Wei Wuxian often found himself in the dark corner of the Quiet Room, staring at the ruined set of armor that stood displayed without glory. He held his hands behind his back, solemnly taking in every detail.

The smell of old blood was faint, like a lingering memory that eluded him. The bronze armor cracked with time, as if it would disintegrate into dust. Wei Wuxian believed that he could slot his fingernail into the cracks of the armor, trace the stress lines down to determine if it was from a sword slash or an impact. He could see the threads in the ripped cloth, how they seemed to be on the verge of unraveling.

He heard a door open behind him, and he turned around to greet Lan Wangji with a small smile, “There you are.”

Lan Wangji had entered with lunch, and Wei Wuxian turned to greet him.

Lan Wangji, after thirteen years, seemed to both age and not age, like an immortal cultivator who could only age through experience.

The first thing Wei Wuxian noticed was the numerous scars that littered his face and hands, trailing its way underneath his robes. They were of various sizes and depths, cutting into his skin like dried-out river beds.

Even so, one could not say that he wasn’t still handsome, nor that the scars could be anything beyond battle scars from vicious war.

The second thing he noticed was the potent smell of lavender that mingled with the stronger sandalwood scent.

Wei Wuxian sat down and scanned the dishes, “How nostalgic—the food is as bland as before. Zhan-er, have you ever heard of spices?”

“The natural taste is closest to the nature of the food.” Lan Wangji rattled off.

“Chili oil is natural!” Wei Wuxian insisted as he picked up the chopsticks in front of him.

Lan Wangji did not respond, only sitting down as he began to eat a piece of bok choy. Wei Wuxian was about to say more before Lan Wangji said, “They’re beginning to blame it on you.”

Wei Wuxian faltered, “Ah?”

“Jin Guangyao’s death, and subsequently my brother’s seclusion.” Lan Wangji did not bat an eye towards Wei Wuxian, “They’re beginning to blame it on you.”

Wei Wuxian’s face wrinkled, “I was dead!”

“The only people who have truly seen your dead body and confirmed your status were me, my brother, and the Jiangs.” Lan Wangji closed his eyes, chewing his next bite carefully before he spoke.

Wei Wuxian sighed, popping a piece of radish into his mouth, “Criticized in life, criticized in death—tell me, when am I ever going to take a break?”

When Lan Wangji did not answer, Wei Wuxian itched his head with the backs of his chopsticks before his eyes widened, “Zhan-er, isn’t talking while eating against the doctrine?”

Lan Wangji lowered his eyelids and said nothing further.

A smile spread from cheek to cheek as Wei Wuxian prodded, “Another is to never display inauspicious items in one’s residence. But here you are, displaying that broken piece of armor in the corner back there.”

In the midst of pure silence, Wei Wuxian found an inconsistency, “Zhan-er, you said that between the time when I died and now, there has been a period of peace, and that is still going on, right? All of the resentful puppets have been disanimated, and no rebellions have broken out yet.”

Lan Wangji said nothing, perhaps latching onto the “eating without talking” rule that he had been called out on. But he nodded firmly without hesitation.

“But, wasn’t that your top-grade imperial general armor? And it’s so beat up…” Wei Wuxian trailed off, “It’s not something you can slap on a dummy to hit multiple times either, and it reeks of blood…”

Wei Wuxian knew that Lan Wangji would not spill—after all, such a relic of war was resigned to a dark corner of a bedroom and not relinquished to any treasury or imperial display. He figured it must be a tragic story, or perhaps a shameful event.

And even though Lan Wangji had recited most everything Wei Wuxian missed while he was dead, and it was against the Lan doctrines to lie, he still believed that something was being hidden away from him.

Wei Wuxian read Lan Wangji’s body language. As usual, his control over his chopsticks and food was an impeccable dance, like a rehearsed performance with a veteran dancer. His face was as solemn as ever, as if he was about to recite a poignant poem but had no capacity to cry.

Wei Wuxian went back to eating, “All right, all right, don’t tell me. With how badly beat up that suit of armor is, it must not have been a good time for you, ah? I can’t imagine who your match is.”

Lan Wangji paused in his dance with food, empty chopsticks hanging in the sunlit air. He did not move otherwise, and Wei Wuxian began to think that he had said something wrong.

He attempted to save it, scooping some rice into his mouth as he replied, “Dredging up bad memories for you, aren’t I? Don’t listen to me, don’t listen to me…”

It did not seem to soothe Lan Wangji’s simmering thoughts, and Wei Wuxian noticed that his chopsticks lightly trembled for a split second before he continued eating, “Do not talk while eating.”

Wei Wuxian indignantly straightened up his posture, swallowing the wad of rice, “Didn’t you break it just a few minutes ago?! Surely there’s a cooldown between breaking a rule and then admonishing others for the same rule!”

Coolly, “A rule broken is a rule broken.”

Wei Wuxian let out a “hmph” as he slumped back down and tried to slather his rice with the bland soup that the bok choy dish came in, scrambling for a sense of flavor, “Your Lan Sizhui is copying fifty copies of the Lan doctrines for being concerned about an intruder in the Rimefrost Villa—what’s the punishment for this? A hundred copies?”

Lan Wangji said nothing as he swallowed his last bite of rice, setting his clean bowl down as he glanced at Wei Wuxian’s half-filled bowl, “Your body has not eaten for thirteen years. I asked the kitchen to prepare recovery-friendly dishes. Do not overeat.”

Wei Wuxian rolled his eyes as his head rolled back with a groan, “Ugh, I shouldn’t have mentioned those dumb rules back then. You already lived like an ascetic person before I died—now you’re living like a full-blown monk! Now it seems that you no longer talk in Chinese: you talk in ‘Lan Doctrine’!”

Lan Wangji’s glare seemed to darken a bit, “Eat.”

“Aiya,” Wei Wuxian bristled as he hurriedly scooped the rest of the bok choy dish into his bowl of rice and began to eat, “I’m eating now, I’m eating now…”

From just above the edge of the porcelain bowl, Wei Wuxian could see that Lan Wangji visibly relaxed.

Chapter 21: crescent moons reminiscing

Chapter Text

In all past records of emperors, there had only been two acting emperors that had been lost to flame and genocide.

One was Acting Emperor Hua Fuheng, taking the throne of the fourth emperor of the Hua Dynasty that had existed centuries prior to the Lan Dynasty. He had orchestrated the slow poisoning of his brother, covering up his death so that his son would not take the throne.

Although he was cold and ruthless during his days as both an ambitious prince and a haunting Imperial Brother, he had apparently felt the weight of the crown. He was shaky in his dealings with advisors, and eventually suffered many bouts of paranoia until his fall to sickness and death.

The other was Acting Emperor Wen Ruohan, taking the throne of the sixth and last emperor of the Wen Dynasty. While none could ever say that he was hesitant or timid, his entire tenure had featured him suffering from the aftereffects of impure Yin Iron.

The raw, untamed resentful energy seeped into his heart, and most of his reign was spent either bedridden or with a spit-full of blood.

As Jin Zixuan peered at the third known Acting Emperor in history, the first to not murder the emperor and hide the body within lies of mere sickness, he found that the pattern of cold Acting Emperors had not yet been interrupted.

Though, he was quite grateful that Lan Wangji couldn’t quite be described as ruthless. Ruthless in his punishments, yes, but he had adhered to a strict guideline of punishment-to-magnitude. Thus, none could say that they had been wronged, for the punishment usually fit the crime—and they were even publicized so that potential rulebreakers knew what they were getting themselves into.

The other thing was that Lan Wangji did not play favorites. A servant breaking a rule received the same punishment as the highest ranking advisor. Many reasonably assumed that this was because Lan Wangji was a kind and just ruler who liked everyone equally.

Jin Zixuan, on the other hand, believed that it was just because the acting emperor disliked everyone equally.

“The Lanling Jin Sect’s redirection of the Major Chang Tributary is progressing as it should. I predict that the project will be finished by the end of this month, and I will escort the borrowed manpower to the Cloud Recesses around then.”

Lan Wangji nodded in acknowledgement, closing the booklet in his hands that detailed worklogs from the tributary’s workstations, “How are the watchtowers?”

“Repaired just two weeks ago. Our two weight-bearing tests and three stress endurance tests have come back positive.”

“And the former Lanling Yong Sect Leader?”

“Punished accordingly for the crime of civilian endangerment.” Jin Zixuan let out an exasperated exhale, “To think that he had been my greatest advisor, I expected perhaps corruption or a plan for revenge due to the power shifts, but outright endangerment…”

He cast a wary glance at Lan Wangji, trailing off as he remembered that Lan Wangji was not as talkative as Lan Xichen. But Lan Wangji did not seem to mind, simply staring forward at seemingly nothing.

Lan Wangji focused back on Jin Zixuan, “How is Young Master Jin faring?”

Jin Zixuan was taken aback, as Lan Wangji never once broached the topic of his family. Even so, he dutifully answered, “His cultivation is strong and is studying under trained instructors. He is vigilant with his studies and night hunt efforts.”

Surprisingly, Lan Wangji dipped his head, “That is good to hear. If the Cloud Recesses can provide any aid, please bring that to my attention.”

Jin Zixuan’s ears perked, pulling the skin on the side of his face taut as he raised his eyebrows in surprise. Lan Wangji—seated in the golden throne of the Emperor of China—was offering his son palace aid and an indefinite support of the emperor.

Jin Zixuan nearly stammered, “Ah, Your Majesty, thank you—but I just want to know… why?”

Lan Wangji did not answer for a few seconds, and Jin Zixuan was drafting up an apology before he heard him respond, “The Lanling Jin Sect is the most structurally precarious sect. All backup plans must be as soundproof as possible.”

Jin Zixuan’s thoughts faltered before falling in place.

Of course. Lan Wangji knew that the Jin Sect had received backlash for its demotion from the throne, and Jin Zixuan’s enemies were seeing this as an opportunity. Should anything happen to him, Jin Ling had to be ready to take up the seat of Sect Leader as soon as possible.

Jin Zixuan bowed his head, “I understand now, Your Majesty.”

“Caiyi Town is reporting mass disappearances of fisherman, who have been said to have suddenly drowned in Biling Lake.” Lan Wangji set aside the booklet, not casting Jin Zixuan a single glance as he talked, “I planned to send some disciples from the Gusu Lan Sect to deal with the situation. Since Young Master Jin is here, if he is not needed in Lanling, it would be beneficial for him to stay in Gusu for a bit longer.”

If it weren’t near treason, Jin Zixuan could cynically laugh. Not only had Lan Wangji prepared for the possibility of Jin Zixuan’s death, he was even beginning to train Jin Ling to familiarize himself with Gusu’s surroundings—so that in the future, he could protect the Cloud Recesses.

“It is also beneficial,” Lan Wangji interrupted his thoughts, “for Young Master Jin to be able to socialize with other heirs to sect leaders.”

Jin Zixuan tilted his head slightly, “Which other sects, may I ask?”

“Baling Ouyang,” Lan Wangji answered quickly, as if he had predicted that Jin Zixuan would ask this very question, “Meishan Yu, and Pingyang Yao. All are visitors and/or inhabitants of the Cloud Recesses, and so took up the case.”

Jin Zixuan cracked a small smile, “It is quite rare for so many heirs to these sects to join a single night hunt.”

“Director Yao posited the event once reports came in. Sect Leader Yu’s daughter was eager to investigate, as it will be her first night-hunt. Physician Ouyang’s son is joining to cover any injuries sustained, as Caiyi Town’s physician is already overwhelmed with the cases.”

Lan Wangji lifted his gaze to peer directly at Jin Zixuan, “And as this is the Gusu Lan Sect’s jurisdiction, we will naturally be sending our disciples as well. Since Young Master Jin is in the palace, I do not wish to leave him out.”

This was the most that Lan Wangji had ever said to Jin Zixuan, and so when he spoke, Jin Zixuan found himself studying the acting emperor’s face.

A cold demeanor framed with a chilly, untouchable aura. His rich voice flowed smoothly from his barely-moving lips, and his piercing golden eyes reminded him of the Jin Sect’s color palette.

The only difference was that the Lanling Jin Sect crest was tinged with warm gold, while Lan Wangji’s eyes were laced with some cold indifference.

Jin Zixuan remembered the past two acting emperors, hoping that the ludicrous amount of rules would prevent Lan Wangji from making any reckless decisions.

He bowed his head into a salute, “Jin Ling would be honored.”

Lan Jingyi was wandering around the Cloud Recesses, taking in his last drink of the sight (as he was planning to never walk back up those stupid stairs) before a figure caught his sight.

It was a young lady, with a gleaming sword on one hip and a curled up whip on the other. She carried with her a regal but gentle aura, exuding cautious power as she walked.

As they crossed paths, Lan Jingyi was the first to introduce himself, “Lan Jingyi, disciple of the Gusu Lan Sect.”

The girl gave a careful smile and saluted in kind, “Yu Baihe, disciple of the Meishan Yu Sect.”

Lan Jingyi cracked a smile as he straightened up his posture, “I recognize your name, you must be Sect Leader Yu’s daughter!”

Yu Baihe smiled, “And you, the Acting Emperor’s son. It’s an honor to be in your presence.”

“Ah, don’t act too formal with me!” Lan Jingyi waved, “I’m far from a prince—just call me Jingyi, hm? We should be equal peers, not stuck in a hierarchy.”

She nodded before initiating, “Caiyi Town is experiencing mass drownings and disappearances stemming from Biling Lake. I heard that some of the Gusu Lan Sect disciples will be going to deal with it, as well as some heirs to various sect leaders who have been visiting. Will you be going as well?”

“Biling Lake?” Lan Jingyi hummed in thought, “They must’ve sent the assignment to the sect grounds while I was out, but you said ‘drownings’?”

“Yes.”

Lan Jingyi looked off to the side, “That’s really strange…”

“How so?”

“Caiyi Town is a fishing town. They’ve lived and worked in and around Biling Lake for centuries, and all of the fishermen that work there are highly skilled in fishing and swimming.”

Yu Baihe connected the dots, nodding slowly, “That means that the monster we are dealing with is not the work of simple water ghouls.”

Lan Jingyi shook his head before looking back up at Yu Baihe, “As Caiyi Town is in our jurisdiction, I should go check it out, ah?”

Yu Baihe nodded firmly, “His Majesty said that this will be a good opportunity to build rapport and connection among sect heirs.”

Lan Jingyi grinned, “Well aren’t we ahead of schedule!”

From the corner of his eye, he spotted a familiar figure in pale green, immediately turning to wave, “Brother Zizhen!”

Lan Jingyi’s smile faltered a bit as Ouyang Zizhen approached, strapped once more with baskets and bags, “Brother Zizhen, you’re covered in sweat, what’s the matter? You look like you’ve climbed the stairs again!”

Ouyang Zizhen panted heavily with his hands on his knees and could only hold up two fingers. Lan Jingyi’s eyes went wide, “Brother, you climbed the stairs twice?!”

Ouyang Zizhen went to catch his breath, and as he did, he could finally elaborate, “My father appointed me to support the Caiyi Town night hunt, so I’ve been gathering herbs nonstop the entire day.”

When he wobbled up to a stand, he noticed Yu Baihe silently watching. Perhaps enamored by the gentle beauty in front of him, he stood awestruck for a good while before stumbling back to reality.

Ouyang Zizhen saluted hastily, “Ah! I’m Ouyang Zizhen, disciple of the Baling Ouyang Sect.”

Gracefully, “Yu Baihe, disciple of the Meishan Yu Sect.”

Ouyang Zizhen brightened, “Are we all assigned to the Caiyi Town night hunt?”

Lan Jingyi beamed, “Seems that way! I should head down to the sect grounds and prepare—I’ve been up since morning.”

Yu Baihe dipped her head, “We will meet again soon.”

Lan Jingyi, with a pep in his step, found himself bounding down the wide roads of the palace.

Two friends in the palace! Although he knew Yu Baihe was likely returning to her hometown after a while, there was at least Ouyang Zizhen!

Though, Lan Jingyi would probably prefer if Ouyang Zizhen went down to the sect grounds, instead of Lan Jingyi trekking up to the palace…

“Zhan-er, you didn’t need to keep him here.”

“It is beneficial for him to make connections.” Lan Wangji spoke coolly, “Between Jinlintai and the Cloud Recesses, Young Master Jin has a near-nonexistent reputation.”

“That’s because that peaco*ck of a dad he has hogs all of it.” Wei Wuxian yawned, leaning back onto his hands, “He’s connected to Meishan Yu through his uncle’s mother—I don’t doubt that they’ll lend a hand should he be in trouble—but I suppose you’re right in that a more direct connection is much better.”

Lan Wangji soaked up all of the words like a sponge, not uttering any of his own. Finally, he put down his teacup, “Wei Ying, the matter of your core.”

Wei Wuxian could feel the light die out in his eyes as he chuckled awkwardly, “Ah, I mean, the Burial Mounds didn’t exactly lend well…”

“You should’ve told me.”

Wei Wuxian was about to make up another excuse until he looked at Lan Wangji’s face.

Although his cheeks were dry, melancholy seemed to drip from the tentative tips of his eyelashes. His cold disposition, although at first glance may seem unapproachable—began to seem more like he was too inconsolable to talk to.

Thus, Wei Wuxian held back his words and looked down into the wood of the table, “If I had told you, you wouldn’t let me go through with it.”

“Life is more important than a mission.” Lan Wangji bit.

“I didn’t think I would die!” Wei Wuxian protested softly, “I just… knew that the chances of death were high.”

“What’s the difference?” Lan Wangji’s grip on his teacup tightened.

“One means that I have accepted it. The other means that I haven’t.”

“Director Jiang doesn’t know? Nor Lady Jiang?”

Wei Wuxian hesitated, “Please don’t tell them.”

Lan Wangji fell quiet, more quiet than he ever had before he spoke delicately, “Sizhui and Jingyi are being dispatched to a medium-to-high grade night hunt in Caiyi Town alongside Young Lady Yu, Young Master Jin, Young Master Yao, and Young Master Ouyang.”

Wei Wuxian raised his eyebrows, having his mood lifted, “What a stacked crew!”

Lan Wangji firmly nodded, “The night hunt had the potential to rise in severity. Director Jiang has asked to supervise them, and Physician Wen will be on standby if the injuries are more than Young Master Ouyang can handle.”

Wei Wuxian nodded in awe, “You’ve only been acting emperor for only a short while, yet you’ve got the mannerisms and caution down already!”

He then leaned forward with a devious smile, “Or is it because your precious Sizhui and Jingyi are going, that you’re being so careful?”

“One must not place bias.”

“Zhan-er, if I had a loquat for every rule you’ve recited in the past hour, I’d be drowning in baskets of them.” Wei Wuxian groaned before he perked up, “Hey, Caiyi Town is famous for two things, did you know?”

Without waiting for an answer, Wei Wuxian stuck up two fingers and tapped them with his other hand, “One is fishing, and the other is loquats. They have the best loquats in China, at least, that was the case thirteen years ago. I wonder if that record still stands.”

Lan Wangji took a small sip of tea, “Return to the Cloud Recesses before nine in the evening.”

“Aiya, Zhan-er, eating loquats alone is no fun.” He grinned, “Eating fruit with friends—especially handsome ones—is the best! I’d eat with Jiang Cheng, but if he’s watching over the kids, it’s best that he doesn’t get distracted.”

Lan Wangji blinked, “I cannot casually leave the palace.”

“Sure you can! Come on, you’re so diligent with paperwork that you always have it done before the afternoon. If any night-hunt reports come in, the sect leaders working in the Cloud Recesses will be more than enough to handle it for the rest of the day.”

Lan Wangji furrowed his brow and pursed his lips, but still looked rather handsome even with the scars. If anything, it reminded Wei Wuxian of those damsels in distress, or perhaps a wronged wife that was still beautiful and alluring.

Wei Wuxian nearly slapped himself. Lan Wangji was a man—the Emperor of China, Chief Cultivator, Hanguang-jun, and Gusu Lan Sect Leader at that!

Goddammit, why was it that his full title had to be so long?!

Wei Wuxian was diligent, “Come on, Zhan-er. The person may stay grounded, but the world revolves. The Caiyi Town of next year won’t be the same as now—imagine what it would be like if you were to wait for decades!”

Finally, Lan Wangji finished his cup of tea, gently placing it down on the table and fixing his sleeves, “We will return to the Cloud Recesses before nine in the evening.”

Wei Wuxian perked up with a large grin, “Come on then, let’s go!”

Jin Ling always wondered what Gusu’s Jinlintai looked like.

He knew that the palace had been remodeled to fit the style of the old Lan Dynasty’s Cloud Recesses, an act of restoring the glory. But as Jin Ling moved further and further away from the Cloud Recesses, until it became a speck in the distance, he wondered if the torn down walls and decor of Jinlintai matched the Jinlintai of Lanling.

His father told him that Lanling’s Jinlintai was much better, and that the Jinlintai of Gusu had had traces of the fallen Wen Dynasty, as its Nightless City had not been fully replaced. The Jin Dynasty was the shortest dynasty in history—lasting only a couple years. It was not nearly enough time to destroy all traces of the Wen Dynasty’s Nightless City.

The new Lan Dynasty had thirteen years, and so all marks of Nightless City and Jinlintai were erased and overwritten with great gusto. When one roamed the roads of the palace and traversed each corner of each residence, there was only the Cloud Recesses.

After all, who could deny Guanyin’s chosen heirs? It was foolish to think one could contend with the gods: it was much safer to simply bow one’s head and comply.

Still though, no matter how blasphemous, Jin Ling wanted to know what Gusu’s Jinlintai looked like. Even if it wasn’t anything extraordinary, and he was born after its fall, he found it to be a small part of his life that was missing.

Caiyi Town was quaint but still lively. As a town that had been in close proximity with the capital city for dynasties, it was safe to say that it flourished no matter who was in charge. Jin Ling heard that even during the Wen Dynasty, Caiyi Town was where esteemed guests would gather, and where most imperial products would be sourced if not from Gusu.

Looking at the various smiles and hearing the lively chatter, Jin Ling could not fathom that there’d be mass disappearances going on.

Jin Ling loved the thrill of night hunts, but he much preferred bolting into action immediately rather than idling about. Thus, when night fell as they descended upon the town, the majority decided to investigate in the morning and rest and relax for now.

Jin Ling now stood in a lantern-lit street, seeing that the party had basically scattered. Only one other person lingered around him—Lan Sizhui.

Lan Sizhui saluted Jin Ling, “Young Master Jin.”

Jin Ling mirrored, “Young Master Lan.”

Lan Sizhui smiled as he rose, “Are you tired as well?”

Jin Ling was too afraid to say that he felt too lonely to roam the streets, instead nodding, “A bit.”

“That’s good, I’m not alone.” Lan Sizhui’s shoulders sank in relief, “I didn’t want to walk to the inn alone. Shall we walk back?”

Jin Ling knew that Lan Sizhui was quite formidable as a cultivator. After all, being a disciple to the imperial family’s cultivation sect was enough of a merit as it was, nevermind the head disciple.

So it was rather uncanny for him to see Lan Sizhui as gentle as he was, exuding an almost weak countenance.

Jin Ling awkwardly pursed his lips and nodded, “Sure.”

While the streets were loud, the walk was still somehow silent. Jin Ling looked down before looking back up at Sizhui, “Your sword is quite powerful. What’s its name?”

Sizhui let out a small chuckle, lifting his sheathed sword for a moment, “Zhensi. It’s a bit too powerful for me, but I was told that wielding it more often will help me acclimate faster.”

Jin Ling let out a small sound of awe, “It suits you quite well, but its name…”

“Ah, ‘authentic death’ you mean?” Lan Sizhui showed a bit of teeth as he talked, “I agree, but this is my grandfather’s sword, so it was already named when I inherited it.”

Jin Ling’s eyebrows raised, “Your grandfather?”

It had been revealed that the Wen Dynasty, centuries ago, had burned all records of the old Lan Dynasty as part of its usurpation. Thus, there was almost no information left of the old Lan Dynasty beyond the few scraps that Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji revealed.

Lan Sizhui closed his lips into a smile, “Mhm. This sword, and my grandmother’s sword Huansheng, were found guarding their skeletons for years after their deaths.”

Jin Ling nodded in acknowledgement, and Lan Sizhui looked down before asking, “Your sword looks equally as prestigious—what is its name?”

Jin Ling’s ears perked as he lifted up his sword, “Yongjiu. It was forged for my tenth birthday. It’s also a bit too powerful for me, I’ll have to admit.”

Lan Sizhui seemed to brighten, “Then we’ll need to protect each other! Jingyi has Huansheng, so we’re all in the same boat, it seems.”

As they neared the inn, Jin Ling heard a strangely piercing cackle ring from his right side. When he turned to look at the commotion, he found that there wasn’t really any commotion, just a man clad in black laughing with a hand on his stomach.

“It was only a few manuals!” The man in black had his arm slung over a man in white, “I sell a few manuals and some inventions, and look at what they say about me!”

Jin Ling craned his ear to hear a low response from the man in white, “Too loud.”

“Ahh, okay, okay Zhan-er, I’ll shut up.”

Jin Ling dismissed the situation, but when he turned to keep walking, he noted that Lan Sizhui was frozen in his place.

Minutes of conversation had led them to become more casual, so Jin Ling tightly tugged on Lan Sizhui’s sleeve, “Sizhui, what’s wrong?”

Lan Sizhui didn’t seem to respond until Jin Ling called out for him three times, “A— Ah?”

“What’s up with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Lan Sizhui blinked before slowly walking down the path they were originally going down, “Rulan, can I ask you something strange?”

Jin Ling tilted his head, “Yeah?”

“The Yiling Patriarch…” Lan Sizhui looked afraid to talk, “he’s your uncle’s senior martial brother, right?”

Jin Ling recalled Jiang Cheng on his knees in the beige dust, his head bowed as he weakly punched Wei Wuxian’s chest.

Jin Ling acted casual, “Something like that, I guess. Why do you ask? From what I’ve heard, he hasn’t made any moves as the Yiling Patriarch for fifteen years.”

“I was told that he died.” Lan Sizhui now looked solemn, as if recollecting something quite painful, “But it seems that…”

Lan Sizhui trailed off, and Jin Ling did not press. Instead he remarked, “It’s a bit difficult nowadays. So many scam artists pretend to be his disciple. Who can say who his head disciple truly is, if he has any?”

Lan Sizhui shook his head, “I just wonder what happened. I was told that he could regrow limbs, replace his organs, restart his own heart, teleport anywhere he’d like, control anything he’d like—so how could he die just like that?”

“Talking about such inauspicious things is going to affect our performance tomorrow.” Jin Ling sighed as they reached the doors of the inn, “Let’s go in and eat. I’m starving.”

The only person in their party that was also in the inn was Yu Baihe, who sat alone. She emanated an intimidating aura, and if it were not for the fact that they had traveled together, Jin Ling would not have the guts to approach her.

Upon seeing Jin Ling and Lan Sizhui approach, Yu Baihe stood up and saluted, “Young Master Lan, Young Master Jin, please sit.”

Lan Sizhui cordially smiled, “Are we intruding?”

“Not at all.” Yu Baihe waved to the empty seats, “My eyes are hungrier than my stomach—I’ve ordered too much. If I can trouble you both to help me out, so as to not waste food.”

With that reasoning, who could refuse? Jin Ling and Lan Sizhui set down their swords onto the ground next to the cushion before sitting down themselves.

Yu Baihe was the first to speak, and her intimidating disposition did not shift, “I talked to the waiter about the drownings and asked about anything strange happening recently.”

Jin Ling leaned in as Yu Baihe continued, “There are a few rumors about what monster could be in Biling Lake that could drown even the most talented of fishermen, but the most prominent is that the monster is a Beast of Damnation.”

Lan Sizhui tilted his head to the side, “‘Beast of Damnation’?”

“The origin of the Four Beasts of Damnation goes way back to the early years of the Wen Dynasty, to the years of Emperor Wen Mao. It was said that he, along with the demonic cultivator Xue Chonghai, had created and raised four creatures to solidify the Wen reign. They paralleled the Four Holy Beasts.”

The first Beast of Damnation was a foil of the Black Tortoise of the North, aptly named the True Warrior of Slaughter. It was sent to the Burial Mounds in Yiling, as it was a prototype set to be test-run in a semi-remote area. It was a ruthless monster that was the cause of the Burial Mounds’s namesake.

The second Beast of Damnation was a foil of the Vermillion Bird of the South called the Molten Blade of the Sun. As the second creation, it was much more refined compared to the first. According to legend, it was Emperor Mao’s ultimate weapon, but its location was unknown.

The third Beast of Damnation was a foil of the White Tiger of the West, dubbed the Shield Reminiscent of a Face. It was created during a time of war, where it served as a tank and shield for the Wen imperial army. Just like the Molten Blade of the Sun, its location was kept a secret and taken to the grave.

“And the fourth Beast of Damnation,” Yu Baihe leaned in and lowered her voice, “is named the Abyss Borne of Water.”

Lan Sizhui shuddered slightly, “All of these names are so…”

Yu Baihe continued, “Because it’s a foil of the Azure Dragon of the East, the most important cardinal direction, it was the most refined and the most deadly. Emperor Wen Mao could hardly control it, and eventually banished it to who-knows-where. There’s talk that the monster in Biling Lake is the Abyss Borne of Water.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Lan Jingyi and Ouyang Zizhen enter, vaguely remembering their names and faces. Lan Jingyi perked up when he saw Lan Sizhui, dragging Ouyang Zizhen over, “Sizhui, there you are!”

The personality difference between the two was striking. Ouyang Zizhen apologized unnecessarily for taking the last empty space and intruding. Meanwhile, Lan Jingyi had no qualms with squeezing into Lan Sizhui’s seat, pressing his shoulder against Lan Sizhui’s with a wide grin.

“I was looking everywhere for you!” Lan Jingyi playfully slapped Lan Sizhui’s chest, “Turns out you’re here with Miss Yu and Young Master Jin!”

Yu Baihe threw her hands up a bit, “Just ‘Baihe’ is okay!”

Jin Ling also felt that the title was a bit much, raising a hand, “‘Rulan’ is okay.”

Lan Jingyi beamed, “All right—what were you guys talking about earlier? Actually, we came in a bit before Rulan saw us, but you guys looked really serious.”

So Yu Baihe went on her spiel again, catching Lan Jingyi and Ouyang Zizhen up on the Four Beasts of Damnation.

Lan Jingyi let out a low whistle after he scarfed down a piece of chicken, “So the thing in Biling Lake is the Abyss Borne of Water?”

Yu Baihe sighed, “We don’t know—that’s the scariest part.”

Ouyang Zizhen’s chopsticks hovered over his bowl, “Luckily Sect Leader Jiang and Physician Wen are supervising, so if something happens, we should be able to stall for long enough to get reinforcements. We aren’t too far away from the Cloud Recesses after all.”

Lan Sizhui seemed to falter a bit in his motions, but made no response. Jin Ling, sitting across from him, couldn’t help but notice this small detail, and it irked him.

Jin Ling yawned as he finished the last bit of rice, “I’m tired, so I think I’ll head off to bed.”

He finished his cup of tea. With Yongjiu in hand, he walked up the wooden stairs.

Chapter 22: fine wine mixed with tea

Chapter Text

Wei Wuxian, having finally descended down the Cloud Recesses and intermingled with the town streets, found that his reputation far exceeded what he thought.

He didn’t really have much of a chance to catch up on the local gossip, for his title was still new and his influence was still early during the days that he was free. Afterwards, he was either stuck in the palace or dead.

Thus, unlike Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian was quite surprised to see many scam artists claiming to be the head disciple of the—

“—the Greatly-Infamous, Super Fierce, Fearsome Patriarch of Yiling, Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation and All Things Diabolical.” Wei Wuxian recited from a poster he had seen. He flopped down onto the bed of the inn and removed the face-disguising charm, “What an uninteresting title!”

Lan Wangji removed his as well, and the first thing that Wei Wuxian noticed were the scars. The face-disguising charm had given him clear skin with an ordinary face, one that Wei Wuxian quite rather boring.

But it was Lan Wangji, so he couldn’t be bored.

After undressing his outer robes, Wei Wuxian rolled over onto his side, “Zhan-er, what are the chances that the only inn that had a room available was the one your dear sons are staying at?”

Lan Wangji did not respond to his rhetorical question, removing his outer robes in a graceful manner.

Wei Wuxian sat up, “Zhan-er.”

Long used to Wei Wuxian’s endless torrent of questions, he answered curtly, “Go on.”

“The scars on your face and hands—what battle are they from?”

Lan Wangji’s hands untying the third layer of robes froze in place. He began to retie it, “Don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember? Nonsense.” Wei Wuxian stood up, “Your memory is impeccable, I know that!”

Lan Wangji’s third layer of robes was quite thick, and summer was approaching quickly. Wei Wuxian walked up, “Why are you tying it back on? It’s way too hot in here, Zhan-er.”

“I’m cold.”

Lan Wangji’s excuse was weak, so Wei Wuxian placed his hands on his hips, “If you need me to turn around, I will.”

Lan Wangji only shook his head, “It’s late. Go to bed.”

“You’re hiding something from me.” Wei Wuxian puffed up his chest, “Aren’t we confidants? Come on, spill it.”

But Lan Wangji only backed away from Wei Wuxian’s advances. The latter sighed and took a step back, “Aiya, okay, okay, don’t look like that. If someone were to walk in, they’d think I’m assaulting you.”

At that statement, Lan Wangji visibly bristled, and Wei Wuxian let out a laugh to diffuse the tension, “Zhan-er, alcohol is prohibited in the Cloud Recesses, but not in Caiyi Town.”

From his sleeves, he pulled out two bottles of Gusu’s Emperor’s Smile, “I bought these on the way—let’s have a drink, ah?”

Lan Wangji only frowned as Wei Wuxian poured out two cups, “You’ve never had Emperor’s Smile, have you? It’s one of the best liquor that China has to offer. But it’s a bit oxymoronic now, isn’t it?”

Lan Wangji’s frown was even more palpable as he sat down across from Wei Wuxian, “Have had.”

Wei Wuxian nearly dropped the jug, “A— Ah?”

Lan Wangji sighed, “Can use the golden core to distill the alcohol.”

It was Wei Wuxian’s turn to frown, “Zhan-er, that’s no fun! If you take the alcohol out of it, you don’t get the full experience.”

Lan Wangji silently disagreed by the look on his face, and Wei Wuxian changed the topic, “Usually emperors and acting emperors will have their portraits painted and hung in the main hall within a month of their coronation, but I snooped around there and didn’t see a single one.”

“All inaccurate paintings.”

“Really? But the imperial painters haven’t changed since Jin Guangshan’s reign, and their paintings were quite good.”

Lan Wangji’s eyelids lowered, and Wei Wuxian’s small smile faded away, “Zhan-er, be honest with me. Is it because of the scars?”

“It is prohibited to display a false portrait.” Lan Wangji rattled off another Lan doctrine.

“Isn’t it also against the rules to make a decision based on your own personal judgment? As well as being vain?” Wei Wuxian downed a cup of liquor, “Zhan-er, I think you’re still quite handsome even with the scars. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Not ashamed.” Lan Wangji replied, “Just an ugly reminder.”

Wei Wuxian paused for a moment, “Does it have to do with the armor in the back corner of the Quiet Room?”

Lan Wangji said nothing, and Wei Wuxian leaned forward with a hand on the table for support, “And you said it’s an ugly reminder, but earlier you said that you don’t remember where the scars came from.”

Lan Wangji stood up promptly, “It is nine in the evening. Time for bed.”

As he walked towards his bed, Wei Wuxian shot up from the table, “Hey! Zhan-er, Lan Zhan, why are you avoiding it?!”

But Lan Wangji could not be stopped, and in an instance, he had laid himself down underneath the quilt and closed his eyes.

The room key Jin Ling had was for the room at the very end of the hallway. When he walked in, the subtle scent of lakewater was overcast by the smell of a floral incense.

He set his stuff down on the nearby bed and removed his outer robes.

Yongjiu was a special sword—not only was it a first-class spiritual weapon, its spirit was a protector spirit. It meant that while Jin Ling slept, it would stand vigil.

Jin Ling hadn’t gotten into a situation where Yongjiu deployed itself, praying that he never had to.

When he piled up his clothes at the foot of the bed, he thought for a moment before realizing that it had been a while since he polished Yongjiu.

He sat cross-legged on the bed, pulling out a cloth and some cleansing oil from his qiankun pouch as he unsheathed Yongjiu. It arced a modest golden light before simmering down to its silver blade. He applied some oil to the cloth before slowly working on the blade from the base near the hilt to the sharp tip.

As one hand held onto the hand, Jin Ling noticed the divots that snaked around the hilt and to the base of the blade. It was a stylistic choice, a feature absent from other swords that he had seen. He wasn’t quite sure if there was another reason for this, and he kept forgetting to ask about it.

When the blade was shining more than ever, he sheathed Yongjiu and set it aside before taking a good look at the robes piled up on the bed.

As he folded up the last of his outer robes, he heard the door open behind him. He turned around, seeing Lan Sizhui walking in.

“Ah, Rulan!” Lan Sizhui called out with his usual smile, “It looks like we’re rooming together.”

Jin Ling did vaguely remember that the inn didn’t have enough rooms for everyone to get their own rooms, but it truly was a coincidence that Lan Sizhui turned out to be his roommate.

Jin Ling sat down on his bed as Lan Sizhui settled down, “Sizhui.”

He didn’t falter in his motions, beginning to undo his outer robes, “Hm?”

Jin Ling respectfully looked off to the side, “You kept spacing out and acting weird.”

Lan Sizhui, the paragon of the Lan doctrines, was not known for acting strangely—Jin Ling figured that whatever he was worried about must’ve been quite serious.

True to his character, he did not attempt to lie, “Something’s been on my mind.”

Jin Ling tilted his head to the side as Lan Sizhui continued, “If your father started acting weird, what would you do?”

Jin Ling was taken aback, having to blink a few times to recollect his thoughts, “His Majesty?”

Lan Sizhui seemed to freeze, “Yeah, Hanguang-jun.”

Jin Ling furrowed his brow, “‘Acting weird’, how?”

“Doing things he normally doesn’t do…” Lan Sizhui was annoyingly vague, searching for even more vague words as he paused in his words.

Jin Ling pursed his lips, “If my father started acting weird, I guess I’d just ask about it?”

“What if it was something you couldn’t just casually bring up, like… an accusation?”

Jin Ling sat up straight, “An accusation against His Majesty?”

He never ran into Lan Wangji, so he couldn't discern what was going on to make Lan Sizhui so nervous.

Lan Sizhui jumped, “Not like that! Or, maybe like that…? But don’t think about it like you’re thinking about His Majesty, think about Sect Leader Jin!”

Jin Ling leaned back onto his elbows, “I guess I’d still ask…? Or I’d ask someone close to him, like my mother or my uncle.”

That answer seemed to satisfy Lan Sizhui as he sat down on his bed, “I see… okay.”

“Is something going on?” Jin Ling questioned, despite feeling as if he were perhaps overstepping. It was just that Lan Sizhui didn’t have the air of a haughty royal family member, and so he felt that he could ask.

But Lan Sizhui just shook his head, laying down and pulling the quilt over himself, “It’s nothing.”

Biling Lake claimed another victim overnight, Jin Ling learned as he watched the bloated corpse of a fisherman be dragged onto the sandy shore.

He saw the fisherman’s wife and two children standing solemnly off to the side. She was shielding the two small children’s eyes and standing a distance away, light devoid from her eyes. It seemed that she had accepted this outcome, having spent a whole night in her husband’s absence.

The last of the rented boats were docked, and Jin Ling boarded the closest one to him. Lan Sizhui filed in behind him, and Lan Jingyi and Ouyang Zizhen filled one boat. Yu Baihe ended up having her own boat, which was quite spacious.

With some talismans, the boats reared forward into the morning mist. Jin Ling felt a chill run up his spine, unsure if it was from the morning chill or from an underlying fear.

Then he noticed that Biling Lake was eerily still, and he felt that the body of water was truly devoid of life. No fish drummed underneath the surface of the water, and Jin Ling felt that once they traveled out to the middle of the lake, they would be the only signs of life within a mile’s radius.

Lan Sizhui noticed his tenseness, leaning forward, “Rulan, did you get enough sleep last night?”

“Ah?” Jin Ling turned his head a bit, just enough so he could see Lan Sizhui’s face, “I guess so, what about you?”

A small chuckle, “That’s good, I kept waking up in the middle of the night. I’m also feeling a bit seasick, so you’ll have to look out for both of us.”

“Seasick?” Jin Ling tilted his head, “Aren’t you from Gusu? I thought you wouldn’t be seasick.”

“I was adopted—I probably came from somewhere up north.” Lan Sizhui weakly smiled, and not that he had brought it up, Jin Ling did notice that he was quite pale.

Jin Ling nodded, “I can’t promise anything.”

Lan Sizhui did not answer, and it was now that he realized that the mist had gotten stronger, morphing into a thick fog. Jin Ling could hardly see the front of the boat.

Lan Sizhui sent out a few fog-dispelling charms, just enough so that each boat rider could see one another. With a quick scan, Jin Ling confirmed that no one had gone missing, but he noticed one inconsistency.

“Sizhui.” Jin Ling whispered.

“Ah?”

“Baihe’s boat—don’t you think that it’s a bit low?”

Lan Sizhui took a second to look over, and with a firm response, he confirmed Jin Ling’s suspicion. Jin Ling nervously bit the inside of his lip before calling out, “Baihe!”

Yu Baihe looked over, tilting her head to the side in question. Jin Ling and Lan Sizhui tried to silently point towards the bottom of her boat, but it seemed that Baihe didn’t quite understand.

Jin Ling dug out a talisman from his chest pocket, and after activating it, he sent it out. A shriek cried out from underneath Yu Baihe’s boat, and it was then that she had realized. Her face immediately paled as she drew her sword Xuefeng and leapt up into the air.

Not even a split second later, pitch-black tentacles that resembled seaweed engulfed the wooden boat. Planks splintered and were consumed, and it didn’t take but a minute for it to be reduced into nothing but debris.

The commotion had drawn everyone’s attention, and after seeing what happened, the fear increased.

Yu Baihe landed on Jin Ling and Lan Sizhui’s boat, visibly shaking, “What— What was that?!”

Jin Ling explained, “Your boat hung lower than those with more people on it, meaning that there was more than a single person’s weight holding onto the boat.”

Yu Baihe shook again.

A knock came from the side of the boat, and Jin Ling looked down to see a blob of seaweed clinging onto the side and beginning to spread its way onto the boat. His eyes shot wide open as he unsheathed Yongjiu and cut the blob into pieces.

Chunks of seaweed went still and floated down into the blue depths, but it had not eased anyone’s fears. After this one scare, more and more similar monsters terrorized the other boats.

It was Lan Jingyi who called out, “Abandon the boats and maneuver the sword!”

At this, many of the cultivators flew up into the air and allowed the boats to float adrift. Lan Sizhui and Yu Baihe had no reservations with going up, and Jin Ling followed after them.

As they hung just above the fog, the cold mist nipping at their ankles, Jin Ling found that it was now much easier to see the others.

Ouyang Zizhen was jumpy, “That— Those weren’t water ghouls…”

Lan Sizhui spoke quickly, “Jingyi, send out an emergency flare. Look at the monsters down there—this isn’t a minor case anymore.”

Jin Ling looked down, trying to see past the thick fog. It was between wisps that he noticed a flurry of black blobs speeding just under the surface of the water, bobbing up and down between visibility points. Looking at it, there must have been hundreds or even thousands of these monsters traveling in the same direction.

The sound of a firework popped above them, the Lan Sect emblem lighting up in the morning sky as the flare went off. After setting it off, Lan Jingyi also peered through the fog, “Sizhui, how is your eyesight so good? I can’t even see anything.”

“It’s the boats—they’re being swept off with the current that they are making. It looks like they’re swirling into a whirlpool!”

Jin Ling’s eyes scanned past the mist, seeing the faint silhouettes of the boats rushed towards a central point. He could hear boats being knocked against one another. After a small moment and Lan Sizhui’s comment, it did indeed look as if a large whirlpool was being formed in the middle of the lake.

The knocking grew louder and turned into crunches, and Jin Ling could reasonably assume that either the monsters or the whirlpool were eating the boats as if they were nothing.

Jin Ling surfaced another talisman, sending it down to the center of the whirlpool. It was a lighting talisman, sent down so that they could get a better look at what they were dealing with.

The spiritual energy imbued into the talisman also acted to dispel the fog that coalesced just above the center, and when it had cleared up a bit, he nearly tumbled off his sword in shock.

The black blobs were circling around a central mass, but that had become the least of their problems. There were now tentacles made of water forming and preparing to shoot up into the air.

Jin Ling steadied himself, sending out a few more talismans in an attempt to dispel the tentacles. However, they only seemed to eat the attacks and became enraged.

In one burst of energy, seven large tentacles shot upwards from the lake’s surface, forcing the fog out and creating a boom! that sent the surrounding cultivators outwards.

A voice cried out from behind, “A-Ling!”

Jin Ling’s head whipped around, “Uncle!”

Jiang Cheng had finally arrived (what took him so long?!), flying on Sandu as he arrived at the scene, “What’s going on?!”

Lan Sizhui was the first to report, “Hundreds of water ghouls have formed a whirlpool in the lake, and they seem to have coalesced into one tentacle monster!”

Jiang Cheng’s face darkened as he immediately took to the frontline, unleashing Zidian. A terrifying arc of purple lightning split the thin air and crackled as it hit the nearest tentacle.

Jin Ling heard the nearby Yu Biahe exclaim, “Auntie—!”

She had cut herself off, and it was then that Jin Ling remembered that his grandmother was a daughter of the Meishan Yu Sect—it was natural that her spiritual weapon had been passed down to his uncle.

Zidian had cut a tentacle in half, but the water only bubbled up from the stump to refill the lost mass, and it roared with a greater intensity. Jiang Cheng flew backwards on Sandu to avoid the next hit, landing himself back into the crowd of disciples.

Zidian still sparked with life, but it was noticeably dimmed. Jiang Cheng was covered in a cold sweat, his eyes darting back and forth as he searched for a solution.

“Director Jiang,” Lan Sizhui initiated, “should we retreat to the shore?”

Although the next course of action, according to all models of war and night-hunting, was clearly to retreat and find another plan to deal with the situation—Jiang Cheng held up his hand to command attention, “A-Ling!”

Without waiting for a response, Jiang Cheng tossed over a purple flare, “Set it off, right now.”

Lan Jingyi startled, “Director Jiang—”

“Set it off before I break your legs!”

Jin Ling jolted and he fumbled with the activator before he finally set it off. It echoed a loud pop! as it whizzed up into the air, marking a bright purple Jiang Sect emblem into the sky where the Lan Sect flare had exploded.

Lan Sizhui started, “Director Jiang—”

“All of you shut up!” Jiang Cheng seemed to be incredibly on edge, “That thing is sensitive to sound—the flare as well as any more noise is going to attract it. We need to stall for five minutes. Under no circ*mstances are we allowed to let it reach the lakeshore.”

Lan Jingyi cried out, “What is that thing?!”

“The Abyss Borne of Water! Any more questions?!” Jiang Cheng shot back before his face snapped forward.

“What are we stalling for?!”

It was then that Jiang Cheng’s face had twisted, as if conflicted by something.

Luckily, a flash had interrupted the small discussion, and Jiang Cheng unleashed Zidian to scatter the tentacle that erupted from beneath the fog. With this blow, Zidian lingered within the water for a moment longer, and Jin Ling could see purple arcs of lightning illuminate the vessel as it sporadically burst down from the point of contact.

But the electrocution was short-lived, and the purple died out as the spasms stopped. Jiang Cheng didn’t seem particularly shocked with this, only lashing out whenever a tentacle dared to intrude his space. If Jin Ling listened closely, he could hear him shouting curses…

With Jiang Cheng defending the front, the disciples sent out talismans to stray tentacles that Zidian’s lashes could not catch in time. Yu Baihe was the only one that wielded a secondary weapon beyond her sword, and so the air rang with cracks as her violet whip

Jin Ling soon realized that his talismans had run out. He only knew so many defensive and offensive charms, and he found that maneuvering the sword already drained enough of his spiritual energy.

Many other disciples were beginning to face the same issue, and injuries were beginning to appear. As blood dripped from wounds and down into the lake below, the Abyss Borne of Water was fueled even further.

Jiang Cheng’s frontline defense, which had been going strong, had now begun to falter and draw back with the added strength of the Abyss Borne of Water. Even though he was the famed Sandu Shengshou, maneuvering Sandu while also expending great amounts of energy into Zidian was sure to drain his spiritual energy within a few minutes.

Jin Ling could hear his cursing grow louder, wondering how he was ever given the position of Director of War if all he did while fighting was cuss…

Jin Ling sensed a tentacle shooting out towards him, and in a split second decision, he leapt off Yongjiu. He summoned the sword to his hand and flew to the nearest sword, which turned out to be Lan Sizhui’s Zhensi.

It was a bit cramped, as swords were normally only big enough for one person and Lan Sizhui’s cultivation wasn’t high enough to expand the mount to accommodate. Thus, Jin Ling bumped into him quite awkwardly, and luckily, Lan Sizhui was aware enough to regain his balance.

“Rulan?”

“Ah, Sizhui, I have to trouble you.” Jin Ling couldn’t put words together at the moment, trusting that Lan Sizhui could read between the lines.

Lan Sizhui, who had seen all of the injuries and the wrath of the Abyss Borne of Water increasing, understood almost immediately, “I have enough talismans to buy us some time, but I’m afraid that we’ll need to split once I run out.”

Jin Ling scoffed as he slashed his sword, cutting down a tentacle, “Don’t underestimate my sword!”

An arc of golden light burst from his slash, and a buzz rang in his ear as he narrowly dodged and cut down another tentacle. Yongjiu seemed to move on its own, assisting Jin Ling as he directed its energy to where he wanted it to go.

He had eventually gotten a hang of Lan Sizhui’s sword movements, shifting his weight to maintain his balance as Zhensi swept them out of dire harm’s way. The learning curve had to be steep if he didn’t want to immediately fall off—but between keeping his balance, not obstructing Lan Sizhui’s attacks, and controlling Yongjiu, his resolve was beginning to slip.

With every attack, the water would burst into rain. It didn’t take long for his boots to become waterlogged and his body drenched as his robes stuck to his freezing cold skin. A fine mist began to surround them, and he had to concentrate extra hard to block attacks.

Five minutes elapsed (it felt like it had anyway) and Jin Ling found no sign of help from the second flare. He figured that it must’ve been a signal for reinforcements, but if Jiang Cheng had brought imperial troops to Caiyi Town, why had they not arrived yet?

Thinking on it more though, for just a night hunt, no imperial soldiers were dispatched. Therefore, it would take half a day for troops from the Cloud Recesses to descend the mountains and reach Caiyi Town—five minutes was just too short of a timeframe.

But, as if sensing Jin Ling’s frustrations, he heard the permeating sound of guqin and flute battle music, and every water drop that hung in the air seemed to freeze.

Chapter 23: the abyss's cry and hiss

Chapter Text

Jin Ling, being only the son of a sect leader/palace official that did not participate in war, never had the luxury of watching the Emperor of China in battle.

And seeing him now, how with the strum of his guqin strings, he could freeze mere mist droplets in the air—he couldn’t help but hold his breath watching him approach.

But, who was it on his sword right behind him?

Upon further inspection, Jin Ling found that it was Wei Wuxian, playing a piercing flute piece. The flute was none other than Chenqing—Jin Ling saw it often when he visited the Lakeside Manor, on display but not given any burial, as if Jiang Cheng were waiting for someone to pick it up.

Lan Sizhui had ceased his combat, flying Zhensi back further as he had run out of talismans. When he looked at Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, he too froze, but his face wore a bewildered expression, as if he were processing tons of information at one time.

It didn’t take long for the halted water drops to continue falling, falling directly down into the lake below.

Jiang Cheng had withdrawn from the frontlines once he realized that the music was suppressing the Abyss Borne of Water, quickly maneuvering over to Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian.

In the heat of battle, formalities had dropped, and Jiang Cheng immediately barked at Wei Wuxian, “About f*cking time you got here! Goddammit Wei Wuxian, what took so long?!”

Wei Wuxian was completely serious now, responding, “The Abyss Borne of Water has spread its influence to the lakeshores. We managed to seal the lake so that none of the townspeople get further injured, but there were still some casualties. Wen Qing stayed behind to tend to them.”

Jiang Cheng grit his teeth, “I’ve managed to hold it off, but I won’t last for very long. I’m just barely managing to maneuver Sandu. Do what you need to do, but do it quickly.”

“That’s the issue,” Wei Wuxian cringed inwardly, “remember how I said we’d need a suppressing force, and that Xuanwu should do the trick?”

“Yeah? What happened?”

“We tried out the technique on the peripheral tentacles, but it seems like Xuanwu only makes the situation worse.” Wei Wuxian shook his head as if in shame, “I’m reckoning that it’s because it’s made of Yin Iron—as one of Xue Chonghai’s creations, it would only be strengthened.”

Jiang Cheng’s chest and shoulders heaved as he fought to catch his breath. His headpiece was on the verge of falling, drenched as his hair was tousled by the fighting. It was clear that his spiritual energy was being channeled into controlling Sandu and keeping his balance under the onslaught of rain.

Suddenly, he looked over, “A-Ling, get over here.”

Conflicted as to whether or not he should remount Yongjiu, Jin Ling hesitated. However, Lan Sizhui flew the sword over for him. They regarded Lan Wangji with a quick head dip.

Jiang Cheng stuck his hand out, “Yongjiu. Give it to me.”

“Uncle—”

“Hurry up or I’ll break your legs!”

Jin Ling immediately handed it over, seeing that his concern was not unfounded as Jiang Cheng’s arm buckled to hold it. However, he shirked off any assistance as he held Yongjiu’s handle with a bruising grip.

Jiang Cheng closed his eyes in deep concentration as he held Yongjiu. His arm shook, but it wasn’t until purple sparks began to fly that Jin Ling realized what he was doing.

Zidian’s snake form had been activated, curling around Jiang Cheng’s clenched hand and into the divots at the base of Yongjiu. Jin Ling was the first to see this, immediately shooting his gaze up, “Uncle—!”

“Shut up!” Jiang Cheng shot back, “‘Uncle this’, ‘Uncle that’, you keep calling for me, but you never listen!”

Finally, his grip on Yongjiu slipped, and Jin Ling caught it. Lan Wangji helped Jiang Cheng regain balance on Sandu, which had begun to shake.

Zidian was slithering around Yongjiu’s hilt and the base of its blade, crackling with a much brighter and stronger vigor than it had in Jiang Cheng’s hands. Jin Ling felt that the pressure on the arm holding the sword was much greater, and the burning feeling of electricity coursing through his arm was prominent.

“A-Ling,” Jiang Cheng hissed lowly, “don’t you dare lose Zidian.”

Wei Wuxian finally interjected, “Jiang Cheng, you’re going to use Jin Ling’s sword to suppress it?!”

Jiang Cheng’s head whipped towards him, “Do you have a better solution?!”

Behind them, the Abyss Borne of Water roared as it brought through the grasp of the suppressing music. Lan Wangji immediately went to work to hold it back for longer, but Jin Ling could sense that it would not be a long-term plan.

Wei Wuxian quickly turned towards Jin Ling, “Hanguang-jun is going to hold it off, but you’ll need to truly suppress it by driving your sword into the core of the Abyss Borne of Water before I can begin the spell. You need to hold it down until I finish.”

Jin Ling wasn’t quite sure what Wei Wuxian was planning, but considering that there was very little time to talk, he figured that he better just agree and ask questions later.

He turned to Lan Sizhui, who gave a firm nod, “I’ll channel some spiritual energy into you to help you out.”

With a few nods, Lan Wangji and Lan Sizhui flew Wei Wuxian and Jin Ling respectively over to the Abyss Borne of Water. Just behind him, he could hear Jiang Cheng ordering the remaining disciples to retreat to the shore to treat their injuries. Lan Jingyi took the lead, and Jiang Cheng caught up to the Abyss Borne of Water alongside Jin Ling.

The core of the Abyss Borne of Water was not clear from their elevation, and so they had to carefully descend further into the fray. The water in the air poured down heavier as they flew closer to the monster, and Jin Ling had to squint to keep his sight.

Now that they were closer, Jin Ling could see where the core should be: right in the middle of the densest portion of the monster, where the center of the whirlpool was.

Wei Wuxian looked at him with a grin, “See it? Don’t miss it!”

Jin Ling hmphed, “Like I will!”

As a Yunmeng Jiang Sect Leader who had lived around lakes his whole life, Jiang Cheng had brought with him many talismans and knew enough suppression charms geared towards water-based creatures. Thus, while Lan Wangji fired chord after chord at the Abyss Borne of Water, Jiang Cheng was busy doing his share.

Yongjiu still shook in Jin Ling’s hands, still too powerful for him to handle, but that didn’t matter. He felt two hands press into his back as Lan Sizhui channeled whatever spiritual energy he had into Jin Ling.

Wei Wuxian was steadily watching Jin Ling, so the latter knew that it was his turn. With as much force as he could procure, he shot Yongjiu down straight into the core.

As soon as it hit, he could feel the Abyss Borne of Water trying to repel it as violet blasts of lightning streaked through the mass of water. As the arcs of lightning boomed thunderous roars, the Abyss Borne of Water shrieked and even seemed to recoil.

Jin Ling expected a pushback, but didn’t expect it to be so great. The lightning was blinding, engulfing nearly the entire lake. Because he was controlling Yongjiu from a distance with a great surge of spiritual power, the lightning began to climb up that invisible force.

Through the corner of his eye, Jin Ling watched Wei Wuxian bite a gash into his fingers to draw blood. With the blood, he drew a sigil in the air. It flashed a bright red for a second before Wei Wuxian shot it towards the Abyss Borne of Water.

The monster shrieked even louder, and Jin Ling had to expend more energy to keep Yongjiu down. He could feel the palms on his back grow hotter as Lan Sizhui sent in more energy.

Beads of sweats intermingled with the lakewater that was misting in the air as Jin Ling focused solely on the sword. Zidian’s power grew stronger with the extra effort, and Jin Ling could feel the static sparks of electricity that had managed to arc its way up the water droplets and mist. They zapped at his cheeks as he grit his teeth.

Slowly, he could feel the muscles of his arm straining. His extremely tense fingers had begun to cramp, and he held this arm with his other hand to support it. From the static electricity and the bolts of lightning that surged up to his arm, he could feel a burning sensation engulf him.

With every burst of Wei Wuxian’s spells, the Abyss Borne of Water would thrash harder. But the rings of red light were definitely exerting an immense amount of effort to take it down, and Jin Ling actually did believe it would work.

Then, the guqin music stopped, and the pressure on Yongjiu grew exponentially. Jin Ling’s vision bloomed white, and a loud ringing exploded in his right ear. A streaking pain shot up his arm and branched throughout his body, and his bit his lips to stifle his cry until it bled.

From the corner of his eye, a faint flow emanated. Jin Ling glanced over, not lingering for long.

There was a faint, white glow coming from Lan Wangji’s chest, and when he rummaged through his chest pocket, he surfaced a qiankun pouch.

He shot Wei Wuxian a glance, and the latter quickly took it in hand as Lan Wangji resumed playing.

Wei Wuxian’s fingers were still bleeding, so as he fumbled with the thin, white strings, he had nearly soaked most of it in crimson blood. When he had finally opened it, a sword of pure metal erupted from the pouch and shot forward.

“Dammit—!” Wei Wuxian leapt forward to try and catch the stray sword, but it evaded his grasp.

Jin Ling braced for a harder pushback from the monster, clenching his eyes shut. However, instead of feeling a harder pressure, he actually felt as if it were easier to control Yongjiu.

He opened his eyes, seeing that many of the tentacles had retracted back into the water. The whirlpool was still present, but significantly decreased in power. The water ghouls were still swirling, but were more concentrated around the center, as if they were about to merge.

But they did not.

Wei Wuxian watched as Xuanwu hung over the spell circles, emitting a dark smog of resentful energy.

Suddenly, ribbons of resentful energy shot down from Xuanwu’s sword tip and into the whirlpool. Faint screeches emanated from the surface of the water with every streak of resentful energy, as if they were battling.

Then, when Wei Wuxian observed it, he saw chunks flaking off of the sword. They were small, like specks of sand, but it eventually turned into pebble-sized chunks until it ceased.

The thrashing in the lake stopped and the mist cleared. Wei Wuxian’s breath heaved as his robes dripped with lakewater, nearly dragging him down.

The water ghouls down below had stopped swirling, and the whirlpool eventually ceased. Xuanwu returned to Wei Wuxian’s hand, and Yongjiu to Jin Ling’s. Wei Wuxian quickly noticed that one half of the Yin Tiger Amulet was gone.

Jiang Cheng flew over, and seeing that Jin Ling was struggling to control Yongjiu, he retrieved Zidian and allowed Jin Ling to sheathe his sword.

Lan Wangji caught Wei Wuxian’s attention before tilting his head down, “Look.”

Wei Wuxian craned his neck and sight to find what Lan Wangji was gesturing towards. After a few seconds, he noticed a small black speck hanging over the surface of the lake, “Let’s go see what it is.”

The group descended down, and Wei Wuxian’s breath hitched.

It was the missing half of the Yin Tiger Amulet.

When Wei Wuxian reached out to touch it, it dissolved into ashes and fell into the lake, never to be recovered.

He withdrew his hand, and found himself to be the center of attention. He lowered his eyelids, biting the inside of his cheek before he gave a firm nod, “I’ll explain everything when we get back.”

Lan Wangji was the first to head back to the shore, and the rest followed behind promptly. Wei Wuxian peered down at Xuanwu in his hand, his other hand holding the remaining half of the amulet.

Lan Wangji had gotten far enough ahead to privately ask, “Wei Ying, are you all right?”

“Hm?”

Lan Wangji looked down before a string of blue light bloomed from his fingertips, healing the gash on Wei Wuxian’s fingers, “Your amulet…”

Wei Wuxian gave a firm nod, “It’s a long story.”

Lan Wangji did not probe further.

The docks were empty, and as Lan Wangji dispelled the seal around the lake, Wei Wuxian could tell that it was eerily quiet for how bright the day was.

Lan Wangji seemed to have an idea of where people were and headed straight down the road.

They landed upon a manor, where the mayor of the town resided. On the ground were disciples in cots, grimacing through bloody injuries and coughing up water. Ouyang Zizhen caught sight of them, and Lan Sizhui rushed over to help as he had no injuries.

Lan Jingyi was off to the side, having his injuries treated by Wen Qing. When Lan Wangji entered, Lan Jingyi perked up, “Hanguang-jun!”

Wen Qing turned around and saluted, “Your Majesty.”

Wei Wuxian walked up, “How are they? Any casualties?”

Wen Qing shook her head, “No deaths, just basic injuries. They will be able to return to the Cloud Recesses tomorrow morning.”

She looked around before continuing, “Actually, their injuries were quite severe, but because of Young Master Ouyang, we were able to avoid a longer stay.”

Lan Jingyi beamed, “Zizhen was so cool! He was healing people while in the air, healing people when we touched down, and look at him over there now—he’s healing people still!”

Wei Wuxian looked over, seeing a boy dressed in pale green applying ointment to a writhing patient. He had a few injuries of his own, haphazardly treated but still in need of further observation.

“I tried to get him to rest,” Wen Qing sighed, “but he insisted that he was fine.”

Wen Qing looked over to the side, where a pot of tonic was brewing, “This will knock him out once I get a chance to get him to drink it. By then, I can treat his injuries.”

Lan Jingyi sat up from the stone steps, “Physician Wen, Brother Zizhen is a really capable person, but all he does is run errands in the Cloud Recesses for his dad.”

Wen Qing immediately understood what Lan Jingyi was getting at, turning to him, “With all due respect, my lord, I’ve never taken in disciples.”

Wei Wuxian butted in, “Ah, Wen Qing, all masters were disciple-less at some point, weren’t they? And think about it—you can make him run around and do your errands for you.”

Wen Qing did consider it for a while, but she held her head high, “I will not make hasty decisions.”

Wei Wuxian smiled and he patted her shoulders, “See? If you just think about it—”

“Physician Wen!” Ouyang Zizhen approached after saluting, “I’ve bandaged and treated most of the superficial wounds and packed the deeper wounds.”

Wen Qing flashed her rare smile and poured the tonic from the pot into a small cup, “Drink this. It’ll replenish your energy. Go sit down.”

Ouyang Zizhen bashfully took the cup (how he managed to not spill it from adrenaline, Wei Wuxian did not know) and found a comfortable step to sit on as he sipped.

When Wen Qing turned around, Wei Wuxian slowly clapped, “Wow, Wen Qing, such a good actress.”

Wen Qing gave Wei Wuxian a quick up-down, “Go sit down.” She turned to the others, “The rest of you too.”

Jiang Cheng had already sat Jin Ling down and assessed his arm for injuries. Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji were mostly without injuries beyond a depletion of spiritual energy. Lan Wangji had a high cultivation and could regenerate it within a half hour, but Wei Wuxian’s weaker core needed longer.

Regardless, Lan Wangji guided Wei Wuxian over to a step near where Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling were. After standing for a while without rest, sitting down had finally allowed the fatigue to wash over him.

He looked over to the side at Jin Ling, and his breath hitched.

At first glance, Jin Ling simply looked tired. After all, he was one of the disciples who had gone to Biling Lake in the first wave, and his sword became the centerpiece of the final spell ritual. It was natural for him to be quite winded and wan as well as covered in sweat and grime.

However, he just would not stop shaking.

Wei Wuxian walked over, hearing Jiang Cheng call out, “Jin Ling?”

It seemed to have not been the first time that Jiang Cheng had called out for him. Jin Ling seemed to have spaced out, and when Wei Wuxian observed his eye, he saw that while his left eye was normal, his right pupil was blown wide open.

Wei Wuxian shot up, “Wen Qing!”

At the call of her name, Wen Qing came over, “What is it?”

“He—”

Jiang Cheng interrupted, grabbing Wen Qing by the shoulders, “Something’s wrong with Jin Ling, look at him, hurry!”

Wen Qing immediately felt the panic as she dropped down to look at him. She laid Jin Ling down, but found that his right arm would not budge at the joint. It stayed locked in place, immovable at neither the elbow nor the shoulder, and stuck in the same position it was stuck in while he was controlling the sword.

When Wen Qing pulled his sleeve up, Wei Wuxian stepped back in shock, seeing blistering skin all over his arm. He could hear Jiang Cheng faintly whispering to himself, “Zixuan is going to kill me…”

Jin Ling began to hyperventilate, and Wen Qing placed a charm on him to knock him out and another to free his airway. She checked his pulse and meridians, flinching back, “Electrocution?”

The image of Jin Ling at Biling Lake flashed in Wei Wuxian’s hand, “His sword, Yongjiu, at Biling Lake.”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes flew open, and he looked down at the snaking bracelet around his wrist, “That’s— Zidian did this?”

Wei Wuxian shook his head, “He’s a Yu heir by blood—Zidian wouldn’t do this. It must’ve been the Abyss Borne of Water, all of the water—”

Jiang Cheng looked over at Jin Ling, whose drenched clothes had just started drying on his body. He parted his lips to say something, but Wei Wuxian placed a hand on his shoulder, “It’s not your fault.”

Wen Qing stood up with a solemn expression, “Director Jiang, Wei Wuxian.”

“How is he?” Jiang Cheng perked up, “He’ll be okay, right?”

Wen Qing nodded, “He’s stable, and his meridians and cardiovascular system are intact. His muscles are intact, just incredibly knotted and cramped. The burns are second-degree and will fade over time, but I believe he will be heavily scarred from this. His wrist is sprained, and I will need to relocate his elbow.”

Jiang Cheng let out a sigh of relief, and Wei Wuxian asked, “Will he make it back to the Cloud Recesses tomorrow?”

Wen Qing nodded again, “He’ll be in a lot of pain, but I’ll have him put in the wagon.”

It was then that Wei Wuxian took a deep breath before looking at Jiang Cheng, “Are you all right?”

At that, Jiang Cheng scoffed, “I’m not like that brat, saying nothing the entire time until he sat down. I’ve got a few bruises here and there, and I need my spiritual energy replenished, but that’s about it.”

Wei Wuxian said nothing, and Jiang Cheng squinted as he fully turned to face him, “Oi, Wei Wuxian, I’m not lying. Do you think that lowly of me? Do you really think some puny Abyss Borne of Water can knock me down?!”

Jiang Cheng jokingly raised his fist, and Wei Wuxian jumped back, remembering when they were teenagers in the Yunmeng lotus ponds.

Then, his head began to feel fuzzy, and something leaked from his nose. He suddenly felt a bout of vertigo before his eyes rolled back into his head and his vision went black.

Wei Wuxian had passed out not long after Jin Ling had been looked over. Lan Wangji caught Wei Wuxian midfall, and Jiang Cheng called for Wen Qing.

Wen Qing reported that Wei Wuxian was simply overworked and tired. After all, demonic cultivation was something that wore down the body, and the spell he had used to disperse the Abyss Borne of Water was demonic in nature. While the adrenaline had allowed him to keep standing until then, he was bound to fall soon.

Luckily, Wen Qing observed that his golden core worked like normal, and Jiang Cheng leaned against a nearby pillar in relief. Because he and Lan Wangji came down to Caiyi Town together, Lan Wangji took him straight to their shared room in the inn.

This left Jiang Cheng in his own room with a vial of ointment to treat the bruising and superficial injuries. He already took a tonic that would help him recover his spiritual energy, feeling the thick bitter syrup coating the back of his throat every time he swallowed.

It had been a while since he encountered something so powerful in a night hunt. Thus, he found himself to be quite tired, and after changing into a dry set of inner robes, he laid down and succumbed to sleep.

In his dream, there were flames licking up the side of the Lotus Pier.

The smell of smoke and burning meat choked him. When he opened his mouth, the skin of his lips ripped. Mucus clogged his throat and made it hard to talk. Snot had built up in his nose, making it difficult to breath combined with the smoke. His eyes stung with ash, and he was sure that his hands were blackened with soot.

He could only hear screams and hideous laughter, mixing together in a cacophony of a nightmare. The sounds of fire and falling debris erupted in his ears until he felt like they were bleeding. A pressure built up in his sinuses and ears and made his head pound with every visceral heartbeat.

In his soot-stained hands, he held Sandu in one hand and a palmful of blood in the other, as if he had been ripping out his guts. He dropped the viscera from his hand, but it left an unwashable stain on his palms. The hand that held Sandu was glued to the sword with pus and infection, doused in a layer of blood. Sandu itself was chipped and looked as if it were about to break.

In his mouth was a mixture of vomit-inducing tastes. He tasted metal and stale vomit, the stench of which evaded his senses. His throat was dry but clogged, and his tongue felt like sandpaper as he struggled to figure out where to place it in his mouth.

He felt beads of sweat running down the side of his grimy face and neck, feeling his robes stick to his skin as he breathed heavily. A force knocked him down onto the stone floor of the Lotus Pier courtyard, the grooves and etchings of the design cutting into his skin and drawing blood. Sandu clanged to the ground but did not leave his hand.

His robes were ripped and stained with all sorts of gore: blood, pus, bile, sweat, dirt, lakewater, vomit. Gaping wounds festered underneath the tatters. One side of his face was freezing cold with water, and the other was scalding hot with the raging fire.

His bones ached and his muscles felt as if they were pulled taut and about to snap. His joints creaked as he moved, sending shockwaves of pain up his body. He began to crawl, trying to stand up, but found that his feet could not maintain his balance.

So he kept tumbling down back onto the ground, over and over and over again. The smell of burning wood. The caked-up dirt and oil underneath his cracked fingernails. The sound of his heaving breath. The feeling of his body failing. The taste of blood and stale vomit.

The gates to the Lotus Pier that led out to the streets of Yunmeng were right in front of him, but no matter how he struggled to reach them, they seemed to only get further and further away.

The fire caught up to him, and the stone floor underneath him cracked to reveal lava underneath. They were strangely reminiscent of the magma veins in Qishan, blinding him as he looked down.

But everywhere else was burning and crumbling into dust. Debris crashed down around him, exploding into his eardrums. He felt the shockwaves that emulated earthquakes, and could feel the instability of his every step. He somehow managed to not fall down into a crevice, but he knew that he could not linger in those places for long before they were consumed by war.

The sounds of his sect’s disciples being stabbed and burning to death seeped through the chaos, and soon haunted him. He could feel their spirits choking him, wondering what they had done wrong, angered that he was trying to escape with his life.

The summers of Yunmeng were humid. Jiang Cheng heaved with all his might, inhaling dust particles and ashes as he found himself covered in a thick layer of sweat. His wounds had been exacerbated by the falls and tumbles, bleeding profusely.

Through the din of war, he could hear the bell pendant that was tied around his belt. A reminder of his family and sect. With the few glances he took towards it, he saw that it was no longer shining and was now dented. Although the little clapper inside the bell was still intact, it no longer jingled when it hit the bell. It was a dull sound that could hardly be heard.

Then, a faint voice echoed from above him, like a god taunting him from the heavens. He couldn’t hear what it was saying, as the crackles of the fire were much louder.

It wasn’t until his vision bloomed that he heard the voice cry out, “Jiang Cheng!”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes shot open, and the first thing he felt was his robes sticking to his skin and a thick layer of sweat coating his face.

It was too familiar of a feeling, and he shot up from the bed, trembling with his eyes wide open as he drew himself together. He brought his knees up to his chest as he hyperventilated.

Hands supported his back, “Jiang Cheng, breathe. Take a deep breath.”

Jiang Cheng couldn’t be bothered to listen, his vision shaking as he flinched away, “Get out.”

“Jiang Cheng!” He finally identified the voice as Wei Wuxian, “Breathe. You just woke up from a nightmare. You’re okay. We’re in Caiyi Town right now.”

“Mother.” Jiang Cheng remembered the bell, “Mother, Father, A-Jie, where are they?”

Wei Wuxian fell silent for a moment, “It’s good that you are breathing. Let me wipe your face.”

Jiang Cheng heard the dripping sounds of water and the cloth being wrung dry. It reminded him of the hot summer days in Yunmeng, where he would crawl up onto the hot docks from within the lakes and dry himself off.

The cold cloth met his forehead, and Wei Wuxian cooled him down with the wet cloth before drying his face, “Jin Ling came running to me because you hadn’t left your room. Zha— His Majesty and the injured have already left for the Cloud Recesses. If we leave in the next few minutes, we can get back before it gets too dark.”

Jiang Cheng took a deep breath, feeling the tension leave his body. He looked down at his hands—clean with trimmed fingernails. The tautness he felt in the nightmare was gone, and the pain in his bones had subsided.

He looked over at the sword stand. Sandu, which he had polished two days ago, was shining brightly and held the regal aura of a sect leader’s spiritual weapon. Just next to it, laid haphazardly down on the nearby desk, was the iron sword he had seen earlier.

The sword was Xuanwu, Jiang Cheng slowly recollected. He noticed that the amulet hanging off the end of the handle looked to have been bisected. After a while of piecing his thoughts back together after they had been scrambled, he recalled that the other half had dissipated into Biling Lake.

Wei Wuxian hung the clothes over the side of the wooden basin, “Are you feeling better?”

Jiang Cheng nodded, but did not take his eyes off Xuanwu. As he spoke, he realized that the state of his mouth and throat were much more pleasant compared to the nightmare, “Why do you not carry Suibian anymore?”

Wei Wuxian looked over at Xuanwu, “Ah, you know, after dying and all that, my golden core is weaker. I can’t wield Suibian for too long. Xuanwu doesn’t have a spirit, so it doesn't require spiritual energy for me to use it.”

“Your core is weaker?” Jiang Cheng coughed out phlegm, “But His Majesty…”

He trailed off, but Wei Wuxian perked up, “Zhan-er…?”

Jiang Cheng recoiled, “Since when did you get so familiar…”

He shook his head, and before Wei Wuxian could ask, Jiang replied, “You didn’t know that he spent eight months transferring spiritual energy into your corpse while in a coma? And then he continued to do it, frequently every single day for the past thirteen years. Honestly, it was kind of f*cked up, but he said that your corpse was preserved and the surgery wound scarred.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Wei Wuxian waved his hands in disbelief, “Start over. Zhan-er was in a coma?”

Jiang Cheng squinted his eyes, “If His Majesty didn’t tell you, I don’t think I should…”

“A-Cheng.” Wei Wuxian implored.

Jiang Cheng pursed his lips before rolling his eyes, “I shouldn’t tell you, but if I were to tell you what happened…”

He told Wei Wuxian about those two days of operation at the Quiet Room. Wen Ning had traveled all the way to Meishan to tell Jiang Cheng what was happening. By the time Jiang Cheng had barged into the Rimefrost Villa to aid Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen, they had been so covered in blood and stumbling around that he thought they had become fierce puppets.

He then told him about how Lan Wangji refused to let go of Wei Wuxian’s corpse, how Bichen had even cut him a few times whenever Jiang Cheng was sent to try and assess the situation. Forgetting all formalities, Jiang Cheng complained that “the f*cker was asleep and could still control his sword somehow.”

He then told Wei Wuxian about when Lan Wangji woke up and allowed him and Jiang Yanli to see the body, telling them that he planned to keep it in the Rimefrost Villa but that they were free to visit.

So they became regular visitors, up until Wei Wuxian was revived.

Wei Wuxian’s face held the shock of a thousand years, his gaze zoned out and his body tense. Jiang Cheng concluded his story, and after feeling much better from the nightmare, waved a hand in front of Wei Wuxian’s face.

It was only then that Wei Wuxian snapped back to reality. He stumbled over his words, “Ah— uh— you— Jiang Cheng, we should, uh, probably head out. Wen Qing and Jin Ling are downstairs waiting for us, and so is Sizhui. It’s just us, the rest have left. It’s noon, I ordered some food for the road so we don’t need to make any food stops.”

Jiang Cheng cleared his throat and stood up. Wei Wuxian still sat at the edge of the bed as Jiang Cheng tied his outer robes back on and took Sandu in hand.

The sword was cold but warm with life, humming happily underneath his palm.

Wei Wuxian then stood up and fumbled in his sleeves, “Ah, Wen Qing gave this to me to give to you.”

Jiang Cheng took the small packet from his hand and scrutinized it, “What is it?”

“A sleep aid incense.” Wei Wuxian checked the room to make sure nothing was left behind before they departed, “It induces good dreams and promotes restful sleep. This packet should last you three days.”

The packet smelled of lavender, a scent that he smelled often on Lan Wangji whenever they had meetings. Jiang Cheng would normally brush it off as a coincidence, but after seeing that Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian were buddy-buddy, he figured that it wasn’t a coincidence.

That and also that the lavender scent wasn’t the usual scent of lavender—there was an underlying fragrance underneath that stung at his nostrils. It was subtle coming from the packet, but he couldn’t forget how it was apparent when Lan Wangji walked by.

Jiang Cheng dipped his head as he pocketed the packet, “Thanks.”

Chapter 24: prayers unanswered, faraway

Chapter Text

In his dreams, Lan Xichen saw Jin Guangyao—and in his dreams, they were both pristine.

Lan Xichen’s lips were not cracked, nor were they constantly bleeding or scabbed. The eyebags underneath his eyes were not as pronounced, and his fingernails were cleanly cut and devoid of signs of malnourishment. His robes were not soaked with spilled food from a tantrum, and the smile that evaded him was plastered back onto his cordial face.

Jin Guangyao was bright in his dreams. Smiling until his eyes became crescents. Smothered with a regal air and draped in rich clothing. His head was held high with the confidence that Lan Xichen loved, and his dimples were like ephemeral beauty marks.

But the nice dreams were short, as it always was. The Fleeting Reverie incense was cruel in that regard.

And in those dreams, Lan Xichen could only look. He could see himself in the nearby mirror that he had in his Orchid Room in the Rimefrost Villa. Jin Guangyao would be there with him.

It was always nighttime, where the owls of twilight hooted in the hereby forest. The rustling of leaves was always loud in his ears as the wind whistled and rang the small bells outside. The Orchid Room was always dark, as the dream always started out with Jin Guangyao snuffing out the last candle.

”Xichen.” Jin Guangyao’s voice was always so sweet in the Orchid Room, a stark difference from how he regarded him in front of others.

Lan Xichen wanted to monopolize his time. He thought of locking Jin Guangyao in his Orchid Room, seeing him whenever he wanted. Whenever he needed.

As if sensing those thoughts, Jin Guangyao would always chuckle, the sweet sound filling the dark room, ”The first imperial general is so scary, truly deserving of the position.”

Lan Xichen could never move. It made him realize that these indulgent dreams were nothing more than sugar-coated nightmares. He couldn’t reach out, couldn’t respond. He could only think of his responses and watch Jin Guangyao be mostly unbeknownst to them.

It was excruciating, watching him stand there and exist in this safe space of his and being able to do nothing.

The dreams always ended with Jin Guangyao’s smile, faced directly at Lan Xichen so that he could see every detail of it.

So when Lan Xichen woke up in the middle of the night, craving that image concocted in his head, he would light the nearby candles and grind his inkstone. With black-tipped fingers and a hastily-pulled piece of paper, he would try to draw that portrait.

Night after night. But something was always off, and he would crumple it up and toss it away. Other times, he might even rip the drawings, trembling and shaking as he actively worked to bridge a distance between an inaccurate painting and the real person.

The real person. Lan Xichen imagined the body being dragged up from the well.

And screamed.

Wei Wuxian had greatly underestimated how long it would take for them to reach the Cloud Recesses, having found that it was well into the night when they crossed the gates.

Jiang Cheng took Jin Ling with him to the Lakeside Manor, and Lan Sizhui said that he was going to write up the night hunt report in the Library Pavilion. Wen Qing took her leave, making her way slowly up the stairs just behind the three.

This left Wei Wuxian alone at the bottom of the stairs. He could very well make his way up, but found the dark and empty market streets of Gusu quite freeing.

So, he bounded his way down the forest path before landing onto cobblestone.

There were a scarce few lanterns lit, as most had been snuffed out with wind. Even so, Wei Wuxian found it quite fun to run around.

That was, until he heard a faint scream erupt from the edges of the city.

Normally, he wouldn’t think much of it. It was until he realized that Lan Xichen had secluded himself to the Frost-Laden Manor that he began to remember just where that place was. And with some mental mapping, he deduced that the scream came from that area where the manor was.

It didn’t take long for Wei Wuxian to wind the vaguely-familiar streets of Gusu and make his way down to the Frost-Laden Manor. It was set off from the rest of the city, surrounded with forest and other natural formations. The average ear would not even know there was a scream.

Wei Wuxian ran up to the doors, “Your Majesty?!”

When he knocked on the doors, a servant rushed to greet him, “Ah, young master, tonight’s not a good time—”

“I know His Majesty personally.” Wei Wuxian pressed, “Him and his brother. I’m Wei Wuxian, you must’ve heard of me.”

The servant hesitated, seeming conflicted before opening the door a little wider, “His— His Majesty has mentioned you before, yes, Young Master Wei.”

Wei Wuxian immediately questioned, “What happened?”

The servant’s eyes darted back and forth, “His Majesty… gets like this nearly every night.”

“Every night?” Wei Wuxian;s brows furrowed, “But I gave him that Fleeting Reverie incense…”

Hearing proof that Wei Wuxian was indeed not a liar, the servant seemed to perk up, “Ah, yes, and His Majesty uses it every night, and it worked in the beginning months. But he almost always wakes up in the middle of the night nowadays, and it’s impossible for him to fall asleep.”

“Take me to see him. Right now.”

“Yes, Young Master Wei.”

The servant took him through a series of winding verandas, reminiscent of the Rimefrost Villa. He stopped in front of a set of closed double doors and bowed his head, “These are His Majesty’s chambers.”

Wei Wuxian dismissed the servant and opened the doors. As soon as he did, however, a strong, choking scent of lavender hit him.

Wei Wuxian coughed as he waved his hand in front of his face, trying to disperse the strong stench. He looked around, seeing that the room was entirely engulfed in darkness. He started a small lighting charm that lit his fingertips, just to try and survey the room.

The first thing he saw was a fog of incense smoke in the air, more concentrated in a room than what was safe. Wei Wuxian figured that he must be burning at least four or five separate incense burners for smoke to coalesce to this degree.

He began to wonder how the servants did not catch this, but figured that Lan Xichen must’ve insisted greatly on the number.

He swam his way through the lavender smokescreen until he encountered a hunched-over figure on the floor. He was rocking himself back and forth, back against the side of the bed and his knees drawn up to his chest. He seemed to be sobbing silently into the sleeves of his inner robes.

Wei Wuxian cautiously approached, “Your Majesty?”

“Get out.”

Wei Wuxian pursed his lips, “Zewu-jun, it’s me. Wei Wuxian.”

The rocking stopped. Finally, the figure lifted his head.

Lan Xichen stood up shakily. His hair was tousled and in a mess, with his forehead ribbon crooked. His robes looked to be stretched and hung somewhat loosely on his body.

“Young Master Wei?”

Wei Wuxian still had his guard up, as Lan Xichen was clearly not himself, “Yes, it’s me.”

“You’re not dead?” Lan Xichen’s voice was hoarse and soft.

Wei Wuxian lowered his eyelids, “I came back.”

Then, Lan Xichen began to shake his head, “How long has it been…”

“I died thirteen years ago.”

A beat of silence, and then laughter, “So it’s almost been a year.”

He lifted his head weakly, “He died, did you know that?”

Wei Wuxian knew who he was referring to from Lan Wangji’s explanation, “I know.”

“They say you did it.”

“I was dead. I couldn’t have killed him.”

“No.” Lan Xichen sniffled, “No, you did kill him.”

Wei Wuxian was about to make a case for himself, but Lan Xichen interrupted him, “Why did you make me emperor?”

Wei Wuxian’s parted lips closed promptly after hearing that. Lan Xichen did not like this response, stepping forward, “Why?”

Wei Wuxian tried to search for an answer, one that could appease Lan Xichen and still keep his head. But he couldn’t think fast enough before Lan Xichen lunged at him, grabbing him by the lapel.

His center of gravity shifted, and the momentum brought both of them tumbling down onto the ground. Lan Xichen was grabbing his lapels with so much force that Wei Wuxian thought it would tear, “Why?! Answer me, goddammit, why?!”

Wei Wuxian grabbed Lan Xichen’s wrists, and fortunately, Lan Xichen was still somewhat delirious. It was easy to throw him off safely to the side, but Wei Wuxian hadn’t anticipated knocking him into the nearby table.

As the vase fell and shattered onto the ground, Wei Wuxian anticipated the servants approaching. But it seemed that this sort of commotion was quite normal for Lan Xichen, as no one approached.

Lan Xichen rose from the ground, and Wei Wuxian scurried to his feet. The entire time, Lan Xichen could only chant, “Why?”

Wei Wuxian bit his tongue, drawing blood as he answered, “I had a mission to do, and I wasn't about to fail. Jin Guangyao’s death was not part of the plan!”

Lan Xichen, inconsolable, had somehow seemed to forget about Wei Wuxian’s matter. He crumpled to the floor not long after getting up. His voice cracked as he weakly pounded the wooden floor, “Emperor of China, and I can’t even save the person I like.”

Wei Wuxian’s breath hitched, intaking a strong whiff of lavender. He then felt that his vision was quite fuzzy, and his head heavy.

sh*t. The Fleeting Reverie incense. It didn’t work on Lan Xichen because he had his fill for the night, but Wei Wuxian just got here.

He tried to make his way out of the room, but the darkness became a labyrinth. Every wall he tried to use to gauge where the exit was seemed to lie to him, as he felt that he was boxed into the room with no way of leaving.

His elbows were the first to hit the ground when he braced for an impact, and the rest of body followed suit. When he was crumpled up on the floor, he felt balls of soft paper around him—like discarded drafts of something.

The faint smell of ink permeated through the lavender barrier, and Wei Wuxian soon succumbed.

Nie Huaisang’s mornings always consisted of checking the logbooks to make sure no one had tampered with them overnight.

With his remarkable memory, he could at least memorize the past week’s orders and cross-reference them with the written records. While he had found no inconsistencies so far, and ran into no trouble after the whole situation in the Jin Dynasty was ironed-out, it was still good practice to check.

Such was his early morning routine.

“Six bundles of Fleeting Reverie on Thursday, and then another five on Wednesday, from Merchant Wang to the Rimefrost Villa…” Nie Huaisang muttered underneath his breath, eyes flitting over the inked characters.

He sighed loudly as he held his chin with a propped-up hand, “These Lans are really into this Fleeting Reverie incense…”

The incense was banned in Qinghe, especially reinforced in the Nie Sect grounds. While it did amplify performance in disciples, it also created a mass addiction problem that led to instability and erratic behavior.

He knit his brows. Then, he walked to the storage room in the back of the room, where all of the previous logbooks were stored.

Nie Huaisang never coveted the throne—not just because he had no way of ascending to the throne of emperor without a ton of hassle, but also because it seemed to be too much of a headache for the perks it gave.

He thought of the Jin princes, how cold they were to their father and how demanding they were to the rest of the palace. Even the most amiable of princes still could not think of palace officials as anything but beneath them, like elusive co*ckroaches plaguing one’s home.

Nie Huaisang then thought of Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji, bachelors who were unofficially celibate, fathering no legitimate blood children. The closest there were to princes were Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi, orphans adopted by Lan Wangji.

He then remembered that the Inner Palace was still empty. There were no mothers for the unofficial princes to go back to, and so they had no reason to even touch the Inner Palace. Lan Xichen showed no interest in the women presented to the Cloud Recesses, and Lan Wangji was even more of a brick wall.

After some rummaging around, he surfaced a logbook—dusty and tossed carelessly to the back of the shelf. This was the second to last logbook of the Jin Dynasty, color-coded a golden yellow. Thumbing through the pages, Nie Huaisang flipped for a particular record. Finally, his eyes landed upon a set of characters:

Nie Huaisang recalled the conversation quite clearly, remembering how Jin Guangyao had insisted that this particular strain of sleep aid be sent to the Rimefrost Villa. Nie Huaisang had given options that were cheaper and less addictive, but Jin Guangyao kept insisting on the best and most effective products for the twin generals’ use.

How calculative he must be, to affect the Lan royalty even after death.

He bit the inside of his cheek and put up the logbook.

Bygones are bygones. Jin Guangyao had already atoned for this sin with his death.

In the Burial Mounds, one could never discern whether the dirt in front of one’s feet was actually dirt or a rotting pile of flesh.

Wei Wuxian crouched down, bringing his chest to his knees as he carved out a few pictures in the black dirt with the tip of Xuanwu.

He drew people—Jiang Cheng, Jiang Yanli, Jiang Fengmian, Yu Ziyuan. He drew Jin Zixuan and Nie Huaisang. He gave each one a distinctive face so that he knew who was who: Jiang Cheng bore a scowl while Jin Zixuan had his head upturned in haught.

When he drew the last one—Nie Huaisang’s face covered with his signature folding fan—Wei Wuxian ran out of people to draw. He drew his junior brothers and sisters at the Lotus Pier, but grew too sad and stamped away their figures.

But then he felt a large wave of remorse wash over him, and so drew them again in the flattened dirt. It wasn’t quite as good as the first iteration, but he knew who was who, and that was all that really mattered, he supposed.

When he ran out of people to draw, he drew symbols. He first drew the Yunmeng Jiang insignia, and then the Lanling Jin, followed by the Qinghe Nie. The insignia of the Gusu Wen, originally from Qishan, was not allowed to grace his series of pictures.

Wei Wuxian thought it would be really nice to have a little plate of lotus seeds, and to wade in the waters of the Lotus Pier’s lakes.

So, with the blood-stained Xuanwu, he moved to another clearing and traced an outline of a lake. He drew the ripe lotus pods and flowers on top, but kept stepping on previous drawings of his and needing to hastily redraw them.

Then, when he felt satisfied, he laid Xuanwu down at the edge of the “lake” and took off his outer robes.

When his back was bare, he leaned it against a nearby tree, which was roughened with the various fresh sword cuts that had been inflicted on it. Then, he ran forward and dove into the “lake”, making harsh contact with the hard soil.

But it didn’t matter too much to him. The smell of rotted flesh became an integral part of his day-to-day routine, so it was easy to imagine that there were other things here.

The cold feeling of water, the brushing of lotus leaves against his bare skin. A bright grin played on his haggard face as he ran his hands through the “water”, black dirt caking up underneath his jagged fingernails which had been bitten near to the flesh.

Then he laid down, allowing the simple ponytail he wore to splay out to the side. He put his arms straight out and straightened his sore legs, pretending that he was floating just atop the surface of the water. He imagined that the small hills of dirt near his water were large green lotus leaves brushing against his cheeks.

When he closed his eyes, all he could hear were the constant screams, but it made it much easier to imagine that he truly was in the Lotus Pier, smelling the blossoming flowers and tasting the crisp air that hung over the lakewater.

When Wei Wuxian woke up, the dazzling scent of lavender flooded his nose, and then the familiar smell of sandalwood crowded around him like a blanket’s warmth. As he sat up, he noticed that it was well into the daylight just outside the window.

He yawned and stretched as he looked off to the side, flinching with a yelp when he saw a figure gloomily sitting at the nearby desk.

Seeing the pure white attire, Wei Wuxian’s shoulders sank in relief, “Aiya, it’s just you, Zhan-er. You scared me to death!”

Lan Wangji would normally be playing guqin around this time, or reading, or perhaps even drinking tea. But today, he was sitting in dark silence at the desk.

Delicate strands of hair fell from atop his shoulders as he lifted his head, “Scared you to death?”

Wei Wuxian bristled, “Yeah!”

“Do you remember what happened last night?”

At that, Wei Wuxian’s disposition shifted, “Well, Jiang Cheng woke up, so he, Jin Ling, Lan Sizhui, Wen Qing, and I headed back to the Cloud Recesses. And then I heard a scream, so I went to check it out, and it turns out that it was from your brother…”

As for what happened after that, his memory became quite fuzzy. He recalled speaking with the servant who let him into the Frost-Laden Manor, and spotting Lan Xichen in the corner. After that, it was as if his memory had been blocked out.

Lan Wangji’s face was grim, “And that’s all you remember?”

Wei Wuxian awkwardly swayed in the bed, “I meant to return to the Cloud Recesses after checking out the sound, but it seems like something came over me over at the manor, and I didn’t even get the chance to send a message.”

Lan Wangji looked to be quite pale, now that Wei Wuxian observed him from the bed. He watched as the man rose from the desk and began to walk out, “Never mind it.”

“Hey!” Wei Wuxian called out, “Aiya, Zhan-er, are you in a hurry to get somewhere? Tell me what happened—how’d I come back?”

But Lan Wangji was gone.

Wei Wuxian scrambled out of bed, just barely putting his boots on the correct way before he hung at the doorway, “Zhan-er—! Argh, how is that fuddy-duddy so fast?!”

“Senior Wei?”

Wei Wuxian, halfway out of the door, turned his head around to see Lan Sizhui standing in the veranda hallway, “Ah? Lan Sizhui, what are you doing here?”

Before Lan Sizhui could say a word, Wei Wuxian walked outside and looked him up and down, “Come to think of it, you were here when I woke up too. I thought you live in the sect dorms?”

Lan Sizhui awkwardly laughed, “I do, but they let me come up here to sleep… I find that I rest better in the Rimefrost Villa.”

Wei Wuxian tilted his head with a smile, placing his hands on his hips, “You walk up all four thousand steps every night?”

“Three thousand seven hundred and ninety-nine steps, Senior Wei.”

“So particular with details—are you sure you aren’t Zhan-er’s biological son?” Wei Wuxian looked down at his sword, “That’s a good sword you have there. I noticed how well you maneuvered it back at Biling Lake.”

“Ah,” Lan Sizhui lifted Zhensi with a bright face, “yes, it’s my grandfather’s sword, but I’m afraid that I’m too low of a cultivation for it.”

“Too low of a cultivation?” Wei Wuxian peered at Lan Sizhui, “Nonsense. I don’t know if Zhan-er ever told you, but I used to be an immortal’s disciple. And let me tell you, that immortal liked to talk, but she taught me how to look at swords and their cultivators.”

“An immortal?” Lan Sizhui perked up, “Which one?”

“Baoshan Sanren.” Wei Wuxian enunciated each syllable before waving his hands, “But that’s not important here. When I look at this sword and then look at you, I can tell that you’re perfectly fit for it. You’re just not using it correctly.”

“But I practice the Gusu Lan sword techniques…” Lan Sizhui trailed off before elaborating, “and so did my grandfather. How could I be using it incorrectly?”

“Maybe ‘incorrectly’ is the wrong word. ‘Not using it to its full potential’ may be a more accurate statement.” Wei Wuxian looked around, “If I recall correctly, the training courtyard should be over there—let’s go.”

“But Senior Wei,” Lan Sizhui protested as he followed Wei Wuxian’s vigorous gait, “I have a lecture in an hour!”

At that, Wei Wuxian promptly halted and turned around, watching Lan Sizhui nearly bump into him, “Sizhui, what’s more important: learning those stuffy rules, or mastering your sword?”

With that frank statement, Lan Sizhui couldn’t refute him.

Lan Jingyi found himself at the top of the stairs, heaving in the cold air with huge breaths.

He swore to himself with every minute of his days and every fiber of his being that he would never ascend the stairs. He had seen all there was to see, and the trip was honestly horrendous!

And then Lan Sizhui had to go and mess that up by missing the first lecture of the morning!

Normally, it would be okay (not without discipline) to miss a lecture if you were one of the attendees, as the lectures could go on without you.

But Lan Sizhui was the f*cking teacher!

A hall full of confused and slightly-concerned disciples had sought out Lan Jingyi, asking him where his brother had gone. At the time, he was still asleep, waking up to a crowd of disciples storming into his dorm room.

Lan Jingyi appointed a senior disciple to teach the course material in Lan Sizhui’s stead, but found himself being ushered out the gates of the sect grounds to go hunt him down.

So that’s how he found himself confronting those cursed stairs again—this time without Ouyang Zizhen as welcome company.

There was no one else around that stopped to keep him company, so Lan Jingyi had to trudge up each individual stair alone.

He wore that once he found Lan Sizhui, he would— he would—!

He didn’t know what to do, really.

Lan Sizhui was like a bright flower—infuriatingly dazzling to look at. How could Lan Jingyi do anything against him?

Ugh! This was honestly so annoying!

As he stomped through the roads of the Cloud Recesses, he heard a familiar voice. It was faint and somewhat distant, but Lan Jingyi was blessed with good hearing, and so he pressed his ear up against the nearby wall and listened.

“—grandfather’s meridians were narrow, so you must…”

“... so like this, Senior Wei…?”

Lan Jingyi perked up. Not only was that Lan Sizhui, that was also Wei Wuxian!

And now that he looked at the wall he was up against, wasn’t this the Rimefrost Villa?

Did Lan Sizhui sleep in?!

Lan Jingyi, being one of the acting emperor’s sons, was allowed inside. He marched over to the back corner, which was where the training grounds were.

As he breached the perimeter, he huffed a huge breath before shouting, “Sizhui!!”

Lan Sizhui was wielding Zhensi, whose bright blade shone in the morning sun. Lan Sizhui’s face seemed to be quite worried, “Jingyi?”

“Was this where you’ve been?!” Lan Jingyi stomped up, “Your entire classroom stormed into my dorm while I was sleeping and woke me up from my beauty sleep! All because their teacher was missing!! Sizhui, you better pay me back for all of this!”

“Oh, Jingyi?” Wei Wuxian’s voice seeped in from the side, “This is good timing—you brought Huansheng with you, right?”

Lan Jingyi’s head whipped around, “Of course I did! Senior Wei, I get that you’re friends with my dad, but don’t you think that withholding Sizhui from his sect duties is a bit too far?!”

Wei Wuxian crossed his arms, “Aiya, Jingyi, I was just teaching your brother how to properly train with his sword. He didn’t tell me he was the instructor, so don’t blame me, okay?”

Then, Wei Wuxian put his hands on his hips as he peered down at Huansheng, “You’re facing the same issue as him: improperly using your sword.”

Lan Jingyi was indignant now, “What are you talking about? I’ll have you know that this sword specifically reached out to me—”

Wei Wuxian held up three fingers, “I can keep you here for the next three hours and teach you some cool stuff about your sword—and let you skip class.”

“...”

Chapter 25: the heavy debt in one's heart

Chapter Text

It had been a long time since Lan Wangji traversed the streets of Gusu, having been caught up with so much work in the Cloud Recesses that his visits to Lan Xichen dwindled to scarcity.

Thus, when he removed all traces of the Fleeting Reverie incense from the Frost-Laden Manor and forbade Lan Xichen from even going near the stuff, he decided to walk around Gusu for a little longer before returning to the Cloud Recesses.

He thought of what Lan Xichen said to him at the Frost-Laden Manor—knelt upon the ground as if praying for forgiveness, surrounded by water and porcelain shards, with grime built-up underneath his bitten fingernails. His face was streaked with tears—both old and new—and his voice was hoarse.

The stagnant air of his chambers was thick, taking some time to air out when Lan Wangji opened the windows. The lavender scent wafted away slowly, and it seemed that Lan Xichen had no strength to refute it.

Lan Xichen reared his head backwards until it rested on the edge of the bed, weakly calling out Lan Wangji’s name. It was only when Lan Wangji turned to look at him that Lan Xichen lifted his weary head:

“Wangji, don’t be like Father.”

Lan Wangji stopped in his tracks, allowing the townspeople to brush past him.

He drew his cloak closer to himself, making sure the hood was still securely draped over his head before continuing down the roads.

Gusu’s paths were winding, not quite linear but still with some structure. He hummed to himself, quietly so that only he could hear, containing the sound within his throat like a caged bird.

He had gotten used to the smell of lavender, but after some time, he began to notice how much it reeked.

The eye-opening experience was Lan Xichen’s chambers, where the smell of lavender was so thick and potent in the air that Lan Wangji was sure that his brother only breathed smoke.

Afterwards, he felt that the stench hadn’t left his body, even as he allowed the wind to whip through his robes and hair.

It was then that he remembered that he too breathed smoke.

Who was he to admonish his brother for the same thing?

Thus, Lan Wangji strode towards the Cloud Recesses with a crisp sense of clarity.

Wei Wuxian obviously lied about being able to read relationships between swords and their owners, but he figured that it wasn’t a complete lie.

He only recalled what Baoshan Sanren had told him about Zhensi’s and Huansheng’s unique forging methods, a conversation that started when she had shown Wei Wuxian her sword Yongwang.

Yongwang was special in that with one precise whip motion, the blade could shatter however she wished. From there, Baoshan Sanren could control each piece like a sharpened whip, and bring them all back together to regain its sword form.

Zhensi and Huansheng were not that flashy, as that level of specialty not only required an insanely high cultivation, but also extreme trust between the cultivator and the sword spirit. After all, Wei Wuxian figured that it wasn’t pleasant for Yongwang to be shattered so much.

Really, now that Wei Wuxian thought about it, Baoshan Sanren only told Wei Wuxian about the swords’ nature because she was reminded of her old friends.

Lan Muchen had naturally narrow meridians, meaning that the output of spiritual energy from him to Zhensi was thin but quicker than the average sword.

Using it with Lan Sizhui’s normal flow—wider and slower—made the output of spiritual energy prone to bottlenecks and hiccups. Lan Sizhui was fortunate enough to not encounter this at Biling Lake, but he had reported feeling strange blockages during previous night hunts.

Fang Chunhua was somewhat of a deviant cultivator, and Huansheng matched that. While orthodox cultivators constantly outputted spiritual energy into their swords during fights, Fang Chunhua’s swordplay style required more thought.

Instead of a steady flow, Fang Chunhua took advantage of a sword’s “emptied” state, where it was lighter but lacked any power. This allowed her to gain more speed in her swings, only inputting spiritual energy just before the sword would make contact.

This obviously required her to input a vast amount of energy in a short period of time. Because this sword had accompanied her since childhood, and she always fought in this way, Huansheng was used to this sort of treatment and even altered its own energy channels to accommodate this.

Thus, when it came to Lan Jingyi’s constant supply of spiritual energy, most of it leaked out or was not concentrated in the right places at times, as the sword was not accustomed to such long-term storage of spiritual energy. When Wei Wuxian revealed this odd quirk, Lan Jingyi did indeed recall that Huansheng was quite finicky whenever Lan Jingyi infused it with spiritual energy.

Seeing their faces finally connect the dots, Wei Wuxian wondered how they could ever be unrelated by blood. After all, their expressions were identical, even if the personalities were not.

Lan Jingyi huffed, “Sizhui gets such an easy fix, but how come I have to completely change my fighting style?!”

“Wielding a cultivator’s first-class spiritual weapon obviously comes with costs.” Wei Wuxian tilted his head in a taunting way and smirked, “Jingyi, are you saying that you can’t handle it?”

Lan Jingyi puffed up his chest as he straightened his posture, “Who says I can’t handle it?!”

“Senior Wei,” Lan Sizhui interjected, “do you really think we could master these swords?”

“Of course—do you think I’m a liar?” Wei Wuxian crossed his arms, “Both of you are very capable cultivators with a higher level of cultivation than you think, very characteristic of royal princes. It’s just that these swords were wielded by seasoned royals, so you’ll just have to grow into them.”

Lan Jingyi laughed, “Princes! Sizhui, sure, but definitely not me. I’m not built for that sort of lifestyle.”

Lan Sizhui awkwardly scratched the side of his head, “Honestly, I don’t think I’m intimidating enough to be a prince…”

Wei Wuxian’s smile dropped, but his mood was still somewhat bright, “Really? Ohh, that’s right, you two aren’t even lords. Hanguang-jun hasn’t granted you land yet?”

Lan Sizhui replied, “We’re still young—it’d be too much to hold jurisdiction over land and still be training.”

“Sect Leader Jiang held jurisdiction over Yunmeng before he finished his discipleship.” Wei Wuxian argued, “While his situation is a little different from yours, it’s still quite possible, no?”

Lan Sizhui waved his hands, “Not just ‘a little different’! I can’t possibly compare myself to Sect Leader Jiang…”

Wei Wuxian sighed, “All right, all right, are you two done taking your break?”

Lan Jingyi groaned, “Senior Wei, five more minutes!”

“Nope! Train for another hour.”

“That’s easy for you to say!” Lan Jingyi indignantly protested, “Sizhui has an easier time than me because at least his sword doesn’t lose seventy percent of his spiritual energy!”

Wei Wuxian put his hands on his hips, “What do you want me to do? I’m not a trained master—I’m just giving you advice on how to properly use your swords!”

Lan Jingyi held out a hand, “Give me my spiritual energy back!”

“If I could extract your spiritual energy from the air and give it back to you, I’d be a millionaire.” Wei Wuxian pulled a corner of his top lip upwards, “And I only have so much spiritual energy to give you. What do you want me to do?”

Lan Sizhui jolted upwards before dropping into a bow, “Han— Hanguang-jun!”

Wei Wuxian bristled as he turned around, seeing Lan Wangji icily staring down at the training grounds from the veranda hallway.

Because all of the walkways were elevated at least half a person’s height from the ground, Wei Wuxian found himself looking upwards as Lan Wangji stared down. He was donning his emperor’s robes, so he looked quite intimidating and untouchable.

“There you are!” Wei Wuxian forced out a smile before it promptly dropped into an awkward half-smile, “Aiya, are you still upset? I already told you—I would’ve sent a message if I knew what would happen!”

But Lan Wangji did not seem to regard him as his gaze swept over to Lan Jingyi and Lan Sizhui, “The sect disciples reported you two missing.”

Both brothers froze, as if trying to find an honorable excuse for missing classes and sect duties. Wei Wuxian put his hands on his hips, “Zhan-er, knowing you, I’m sure you filled in their gaps because the Gusu Lan Sect has so many capable senior disciples. One day of missed classes is practically nothing compared to what I’m teaching them.”

Lan Wangji tilted his head only slightly, the jewelry of his headpiece clinking softly, “Teaching them what?”

“How to use their swords, naturally. Don’t you see them wielding them?” Wei Wuxian gestured to them before gesturing to the various cuts in the ground, “Zhan-er, you can’t just give specialized swords to your sons and expect them to be able to use them to their full potential.”

Lan Wangji’s eyebrows raised slightly, “‘Specialized’?”

“All you seem to do is repeat whatever I say.” Wei Wuxian mumbled before raising his voice a bit to address Lan Wangji, “And didn’t you know? Zhensi and Huansheng are very particular swords, and stubborn to change.”

“You never told me.”

Wei Wuxian opened his mouth but nothing came out.

He couldn’t blame Lan Wangji for not knowing, now could he? It was Wei Wuxian who took such information to his death.

Wei Wuxian thought for a moment before replying, “I didn’t think you’d pass them down to your sons. I didn’t even think you’d have any!”

Lan Wangji’s eyes flitted towards Lan Jingyi, “Are you having issues with your spiritual energy?”

Lan Jingyi perked up, “Ah, Hanguang-jun, it’s nothing. It’s just that Huansheng loses a lot of my spiritual energy before it’s so particular.”

“‘Loses it’?” Lan Wangji looked back at Wei Wuxian.

So Wei Wuxian was tasked with re-explaining Zhensi and Huansheng’s respective quirks. Fortunately, Lan Wangji understood faster than Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi.

Lan Wangji let out a sigh before descending down the nearby stairs. As his boots made contact with the sandy training field, he summoned his guqin. As it floated in the air, he placed his hands over the strings in a calculated manner, “Continue training. I will promote the regeneration of both of your spiritual energies.”

Lan Jingyi was primarily looking for a way out of training, but now faced with his adoptive father, he couldn’t find any more excuses.

Lan Sizhui, on the other hand, looked quite concerned. Wei Wuxian approached once Lan Jingyi stepped into formation a few steps away, “Sizhui, what’s wrong?”

As the guqin notes began, Lan Sizhui looked up, “Ah, no, it’s nothing. I was just thinking that perhaps I’m not as aware of myself as I thought.”

Wei Wuxian tilted his head, “What do you mean?”

“I just thought the blockages were normal, because it wasn’t particularly difficult to get over. But hearing you tell me all about Zhensi’s particularity, Senior Wei, I’ve come to realize that I’m not as knowledgeable about this stuff as you are.”

“Zhensi is a specialized weapon.” Lan Wangji interjected in between chords, “Not like the swords normally given during disciple induction ceremonies.”

“But had it not been for Senior Wei,” Lan Sizhui turned his head to look at Lan Wangji, “I wouldn't have known about this. If I kept on wielding it like I had been before, wouldn’t the sword spirit become dissatisfied with its treatment and make things difficult for me? As your son, I cannot afford to have my sword working against me.”

Wei Wuxian put on a reassuring smile, “Sizhui, things like this can be figured out with time. I just expedited that process. Don’t be too hard on yourself, ah? Now go train before Jingyi finds out you’ve been lingering over here.”

Lan Sizhui was about to protest, but Wei Wuxian quickly shooed him away, refusing to hear any of it. When Lan Sizhui finally ran into formation just behind Lan Jingyi, Wei Wuxian walked over to Lan Wangji’s side, “Neither of your sons take after you, Zhan-er.”

Lan Wangji finished a trill, his fingers running over the strings in a circular motion, “Stop talking.”

Wei Wuxian huffed, “So stiff. I’ve got nothing to do. I don’t even have my Chenqing to help!”

Lan Wangji blinked a few times before slightly turning his head without a word. When he finished a passage, he took a qiankun pouch out from his sleeves. He opened it and reached a hand in, surfacing a pitch-black flute.

Wei Wuxian quickly took Chenqing in hand, running his thumb over the cracks and ridges, “It let you touch it?”

Lan Wangji resumed playing but answered, “Mn.”

“Jiang Cheng had my Suibian—are you saying that it rejected him and Shi-jie?”

“Mn.”

Wei Wuxian smiled as he inspected Chenqing, “You even cleaned off the blood stains.”

“Unsanitary.”

“But you didn’t fill in the cracks.”

“Would cause further damage.”

Wei Wuxian smiled, bringing Chenqing up to his lips as he jumped into Lan Wangji’s tune. Happily, he found that playing without the resentful smog encompassing him was quite refreshing.

His breath hitched as he stopped playing, making Lan Wangji take over the solo part.

Wei Wuxian lowered his eyelids as he looked down at Chenqing, the black bamboo flute cut from the Burial Mounds. It had become a symbol of the hardest period of his previous life, reminding him of everything he had done in the past.

No matter how thoroughly Lan Wangji cleaned Chenqing, it still reeked of despair to Wei Wuxian.

Playing it so nicely now felt like a sin.

Lan Wangji’s gaze flitted towards Wei Wuxian, and the latter looked at him with a small smile, “Don’t mind me. Just remembering some troubling memories.”

Lan Wangji did not seem to want to pry, his gaze focusing back on Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi. Wei Wuxian stuck Chenqing into the slightly worn-out area on his belt, where he had always kept the flute, “You’ve raised some good kids.”

“One lacks self-confidence. The other is reckless.”

“But the first makes up for it in technique, and the second makes up for it in power.” Wei Wuxian shook his head, “You cannot be too reckless when it comes to technique, but you also cannot be hesitant in your power. It’s a good thing that it’s the other way around—it’s like they’re two pieces of a puzzle. They make up for the other’s weakness.”

“A lack of self-confidence leads to mistakes. Recklessness leads to endangerment.”

Wei Wuxian hummed, “How come you have not taken in an empress or any consorts?”

Lan Wangji was silent as Wei Wuxian continued, “I think having mother figures in their lives can help those two points. A mother can provide her son confidence as well as regulate his behavior.”

“None are suitable.”

“Ah?” Wei Wuxian was about to disagree before he remembered, “That’s right, all of those stuffy clan rules. What, were the ladies presented too ambitious or stuck-up for your liking?”

“Simply unsuitable.”

“Not your type?”

“Appearance is not a priority.”

“You don’t need to fall in love with them, just have a few for Sizhui and Jingyi’s sakes.”

“Shallow.”

“All right, all right.” Wei Wuxian relented, crossing his arms, “Say, have you ever fallen in love?”

Lan Wangji did not answer, and Wei Wuxian’s smile broadened, “You have!”

Lan Wangji furrowed his eyebrows, “Do not make assumptions.”

“But you didn’t answer just now. That’s basically a ‘yes’.”

Lan Wangji’s face soured, and Wei Wuxian laughed, “All right, I won’t bully you anymore. I promised to pay Jiang Cheng and Shi-jie a visit. I’m sure you can handle things here, ah?”

Lan Wangji’s facial features relaxed, “Mn.”

Ouyang Zizhen had been previously running errands for his father, one of the select imperial physicians in the Cloud Recesses.

Now, however, he was running errands for Wen Qing, the head imperial physician. Although his father had been somewhat skeptical, as he still held onto his prejudice against Wens, Ouyang Zizhen had convinced him that nothing about their relationship would change.

The only difference was that Ouyang Zizhen could gain new knowledge from a different source outside of Baling’s knowledge pool. Furthermore, Wen Qing had proved herself in the past thirteen years to be a physician before a Wen, and never caused any of her patients more harm than good.

So even though Ouyang Zizhen was still running up and down the stairs of the Cloud Recesses to gather herbs and medicines, he knew that being Wen Qing’s first disciple was an honor in and of itself.

In fact, he actually had a great many conversations with Wen Ning while prepping basic poultices and shaping pills. Although Wen Ning did not leave the Cloud Recesses due to his health condition, and thus could not accompany Ouyang Zizhen on his errands, Ouyang Zizhen never felt lonely while in Wen Qing’s residence—the Ink Rain House.

He once asked Wen Ning why they named it the Ink Rain House, or why there was a Dirt-Strewn Fortress when the Lans valued cleanliness, or a Lakeside Manor that was next to no lakes, or a Frost Palace that kept its name in summertime. But Wen Ning couldn’t answer any of his questions, simply answering that perhaps the names were just pretty, or reminded the owners of something precious.

Today, Ouyang Zizhen was fixated on wrapping up a special gauze that had a paste slathered on it. The Ink Rain House had gotten a shipment of gauze, which was wrapped up around a wooden dowel as usual. But for this certain gauze, it was meant for quick but long-lasting first aid during a night hunt or anywhere far from civilization.

So, he had to unravel all of the gauze, brush on the healing paste, wait for it to set, cast a few spells on it to preserve it, and then rewrap it carefully. It was tedious work, but for a newly-instated disciple, this was nothing!

When he finished the third roll of gauze, he noticed a figure clad in red approach him from ahead. He recognized the figure immediately, bowing his head, “Master!”

Wen Qing swept a glance over the workstation, “What is your progress?”

“I just finished the third roll! I have two more—”

“Finish it later.” Wen Qing interrupted as she adjusted her sleeve, “We’ll be visiting a patient today.”

Ouyang Zizhen perked up, and a brightness entered his gaze, “Thank you, Master!”

It would be Ouyang Zizhen’s first time seeing a patient, and he had only been her disciple for a week! Naturally, he would only be helping Wen Qing out with tedious matters, such as opening up the acupuncture needle boxes, or handing her the vials she requested, or taking notes—but it was still a huge step!

Wen Qing turned around, “We’ll be leaving in ten minutes.”

“Where are we headed to?”

Wen Qing hesitated for a small moment, “The Lakeside Manor.”

Then, she turned around to look at Ouyang Zizhen, “I will also need a few talismans for dispelling incense smoke.”

Ouyang Zizhen nodded in affirmation, but it was only after she left that he thought: why talismans for dispelling incense smoke?

He shook the thoughts free from his head. What did he know? He was just a disciple! Perhaps the incense smoke makes it difficult to diagnose or treat a patient!

So Ouyang Zizhen dutifully packed up his items and prepared Wen Qing’s medical box, making sure that everything was accounted for and present before closing up the intricate drawer mechanisms.

Wen Qing had tightly rewrapped her sleeves around her forearms, as they had loosened over the course of the morning. As they left the Ink Rain House and headed for the Lakeside Manor—which was honestly not too far away—Ouyang Zizhen racked his head for a conversation topic to ease the silence.

“So, Master, who are we seeing?”

“Jin Rulan and Jiang Wanyin.”

“Rulan?” Ouyang Zizhen’s eyebrows lifted, “What happened to him?”

Wen Qing looked at him before looking away, “See for yourself. We’re here now.”

The Lakeside Manor was supposedly modeled closely after the Lotus Pier. Although it was mostly reminiscent of the Cloud Recesses and the Gusu Lan Sect’s markings, there were still hints of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect scattered about—like the lotus flowers engraved in the courtyards, the bronze accents, and hints of purple intermingled with the blue.

As Ouyang Zizhen entered, Jiang Cheng was there to greet him and Wen Qing, “Physician Wen, Young Master Ouyang.”

Wen Qing dipped her head before getting straight to business, “Please take me to Jin Rulan.”

Jiang Cheng made small talk with Wen Qing as they walked over to Jin Ling’s chambers, talking of the weather and of Ouyang Zizhen’s performance as a disciple. Although Ouyang Zizhen wasn’t one to pry (yes he was), he had heard a few compliments that made a small smile creep up his face.

“He’s just inside.” Jiang Cheng softly spoke as they reached a set of double sliding doors, “My sister is inside as well, taking care of him.”

Wen Qing dipped her head without another word, and Jiang Cheng left to tend to his own duties. Ouyang Zizhen was nervous as Wen Qing went to open the doors, having never met Jin Ling’s mother.

When he entered, there was a strong smell of peonies—a homage to Lanling, perhaps to make Jin Ling feel more at home during his stay. Jiang Yanli was wiping Jin Ling’s lips with a small handkerchief, looking up as Wen Qing and Ouyang Zizhen entered.

Jiang Yanli stood up, placing an empty bowl on the table just next to the bed, “Physician Wen.”

She looked to the side at Ouyang Zizhen, “And you are?”

Ouyang Zizhen bowed his head, “Ouyang Zizhen, Physician Wen’s disciple.”

“Ah!” Jiang Yanli softly exclaimed, “A-Cheng told me about you. It’s very nice to meet you, Young Master Ouyang.”

Wen Qing walked to the bedside, “How are the infections?”

“I just fed him the tonic, and some of the blisters have gone down.” Jiang Yanli dipped her head, “But I trust that you will know better than I do.”

Ouyang Zizhen looked over at Jin Ling, who was peacefully lying down underneath the blanket, “Blisters?”

Jiang Yanli went to say something, but Wen Qing gave her a particular look. The former then excused herself, leaving the room.

“Zizhen, how good are you with injuries?”

“Ah?” Ouyang Zizhen knelt on the ground next to where Wen Qing sat, splaying out the medical box as he was taught to do, “I suppose I’m all right with them—”

His answer was interrupted with a gasp that escaped his lips without a second thought. Wen Qing had peeled away the blanket and the bandages that wound around Jin Ling’s arm, revealing charred flesh that oozed strangely-colored liquids. Ouyang Zizhen wasn’t quite sure if he was looking at an arm or a piece of chicken left on the fire too long.

“Suppressing the Abyss Borne of Water with a lightning-infused metal sword, all while it was raining and they were flying above a frenzied lake.” Wen Qing shook her head, “Young Master Jin is lucky to still have a sword and an arm.”

Ouyang Zizhen looked over at the sword stand, where a mostly unscathed Suihua sat. He then looked back at the arm, grimacing as he watched Wen Qing clean it up, “Will it heal?”

“We can only hope. It wasn’t this bad when we left Caiyi Town.” Wen Qing sighed as she disposed of a dirty towel, “But infection set in earlier this week, and layers of his skin began to necrotize.”

Ouyang Zizhen opened his mouth, but it seemed that Wen Qing read his mind, “His meridians and nerves are intact, and he will still be able to move his arm as normal. It will just be heavily scarred, and it’s likely that he will need to adjust his fighting style to apply less force on his right arm.”

That last sentence made Ouyang Zizhen quite nervous. After all, right-handed swordplay was generally taught in all sects and schools of cultivation. There were only a few manuals and masters who could perform left-handed swordplay—and those were usually of choice and out of some strange boredom.

All except for one manual, whose author had lost his right arm in a night hunt. But such a manual was limited in practical use, as the cultivator wasn’t particularly skilled, and mainly wrote the book as some epic trailblazing story that featured himself as the heroic protagonist. So why it did outline some basic adjustments, it was far from anything comprehensive.

When Wen Qing cleaned up the fluids, she applied a few salves and oils to reduce infection and inflammation. With a small knife and a pan underneath the arm, Wen Qing carefully carved away the blackened flesh that had fully died and was okay to cut off.

Ouyang Zizhen had the unfortunate task of holding the pan steady as it caught flakes and chunks of necrotic flesh. Looking at it, it truly resembled burnt meat.

Wen Qing carved out the last piece, allowing Ouyang Zizhen to lower the pan, “The good thing is that this should be the last of it.”

“The last of what?”

“Dying flesh. The rest looks healthy and is scabbing naturally.” Wen Qing carefully maneuvered the arm around to examine it, “It should be healing much faster now. Give me the treated gauze.”

Ouyang Zizhen surfaced a freshly-made roll of treated gauze, watching Wen Qing cautiously but skillfully rewrap the arm. By the end of it, Ouyang Zizhen saw no more pink flesh or gruesome sights. If he wasn’t aware of what was underneath the bandages, he would surely assume that the injury was not as bad as what it actually was.

“Needles.” Wen Qing ordered, and Ouyang Zizhen dutifully presented the box of assorted acupuncture needles, all lined up cleanly within the velvet-lined box.

Wen Qing pulled three needles out from the top of Jin Ling’s head, and just before the boy could stir awake, she used her spiritual energy to reapply three fresh ones. At once, the slight movements ceased. Wen Qing checked Jin Ling’s pulse, and after confirming everything was working normally, she stood up.

Ouyang Zizhen packed up the medical box, wrapping the used needles in a clean cloth and placing them elsewhere to be treated and cleaned later, “Are we done here?”

“No.” Wen Qing held out her hand, “The talismans. Hand them over.”

Ouyang Zizhen pulled out a stack of the requested talismans from his sleeve and placed them in her open hand, “What are these for?”

“Dispelling incense smoke, naturally.”

“But why?”

Ouyang Zizhen expected every other answer, but not the one that Wen Qing gave. Wen Qing walked out of the room, speaking as she walked, “His Majesty’s orders.”

Ouyang Zizhen blinked, but could not ask for further elaboration before Wen Qing rapped his knuckles on another set of doors, “Sect Leader Jiang.”

It took a few seconds for Jiang Cheng to open the doors. Judging by the little that Ouyang Zizhen could see, these were his personal chambers.

Wen Qing dipped her head coolly, “His Majesty has ordered me to throw out all stock of the Fleeting Reverie incense. It is now banned in the Cloud Recesses.”

Wen Qing reached into her breast pocket to take out a thin scroll. She held it out towards Jiang Cheng, “As I was the one to give you the incense, I should be the one to take it away.”

Jiang Cheng’s eyebrows furrowed as he hesitantly took the scroll in hand, “What’s the matter with it?”

Wen Qing explained its addictive properties and side effects, including its symptoms of overdose and withdrawal, which mostly included hallucinations, hysteria, manic episodes, amplified emotions, confusion, nausea, aggression, and other rather terrifying symptoms.

Jiang Cheng had been thoroughly frightened by the list, and hurriedly asked Wen Qing to help disperse the lavender smoke and take away the packets of incense powder.

As he watched Wen Qing apply the temporary talismans, he shook his head with a sigh, “I always wondered why His Majesty smelled so strongly of this particular lavender scent.”

Jiang Cheng shifted his balance onto his right foot, face wrinkled in thought, “Has he sobered up?”

Wen Qing shook her head after picking up the packets, “I do not know. Earlier this week, he personally came to the Ink Rain House with this edict. I believe that he’s sent the other physicians to clean up any residences that have the Fleeting Reverie incense over the past few days.”

Jiang Cheng nodded knowingly, “Spreading the period of confiscation out so no suspicion arises.”

Wen Qing bowed her head, “We will be taking our leave now.”

Jiang Cheng’s lips parted, as if to say something, but he promptly closed them before lowering his eyelids.

Chapter 26: imprisoned drunken dreams

Chapter Text

Xiao Xingchen had gotten used to living without sight for a long time.

He remembered how angry Song Lan was with him when he had woken up after the operation. The way Song Lan grabbed Xiao Xingchen and cried, those few sensations that were not accompanied with images were seared into his memory regardless.

It took years for Song Lan to forgive him.

“Xingchen.”

Xiao Xingchen turned his head towards the voice, mimicking the idea of looking at Song Lan, “Hm?”

“Do you think immortals get lonely?”

Xiao Xingchen turned his head back forward, continuing to use his spiritual energy to detect the dirt path they were walking on, “Yes and no.”

“How so?”

“They have their disciples, and the memories of their friends.” Xiao Xingchen answered coolly, “But they are frequently reminded of how they may never see their disciples again soon, and how the friends they make will eventually die. So while they are surrounded by many and can have fruitful conversations, they’re aware that they won’t last long.”

Song Lan hummed, “I wonder why we haven’t had any immortal emperors.”

“It would just be tyrannical, no?” Xiao Xingchen chuckled, “But, even if a righteous immortal were to take the throne, I imagine that they would abdicate rather quickly.”

“Why do you say that?”

“The seat of the emperor is too rigid and lonely. If you were to live forever stuck in a throne and ruled by a crown, you would be miserable, no?”

“But the power that emperors hold.” Song Lan pondered, “Has there truly been no immortal selfish enough to keep the throne?”

Xiao Xingchen thought for a moment before shaking his head, “One of the requirements to being an immortal goes against the very idea of tyranny.”

Only their footsteps could be heard before Xiao Xingchen heard Song Lan respond, “What requirement?”

“There must be someone so dedicated to you that they’re absolutely willing to give their life, body, and soul to you.” Xiao Xingchen smiled lightly, “For a selfish person, who wouldn’t have even the slightest bit of hesitation? If the technique fails, it will backfire and kill both parties.”

Song Lan let out a sound of understanding, “So an aspiring tyrant would be too paranoid of anyone to trust them with this undertaking.”

Then, he continued with a thoughtful hum, “I wonder who Baoshan Sanren had. Some near and dear to her heart?”

Xiao Xingchen laughed, “She never told me, only that she thinks of them often when she shouldn’t.”

“Perhaps it’s too painful for her.”

But Xiao Xingchen shook his head rather confidently. When Song Lan questioned it, his reply was decisive:

“Immortals are not supposed to feel such pain. If an immortal were to, they would likely cease to be one.”

Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi were making progress with their swords.

At the very least, they had become more aware of the special treatment they needed to give them, and could subconsciously adjust their stances and motions to accommodate for it.

Thus, Wei Wuxian was quite satisfied, slumping down next to Lan Wangji’s desk with a bright smile. Lan Wangji was reading reports from night hunts that the Gusu Lan Sect had submitted to him.

Wei Wuxian, as snoopy as he was, sneaked a few peeks at the papers, “Ah, that’s the Biling Lake night hunt, isn’t it?”

“Mn.” Lan Wangji did not admonish him for peeking without permission, but noticeably angled the report away from Wei Wuxian’s gaze.

Wei Wuxian didn’t mind, shifting to get comfortable as he hummed, “I ran into Young Lady Yu Baihe a few days ago, and after a small conversation, she had brought up the Abyss Borne of Water.”

Lan Wangji had no reaction, so Wei Wuxian continued, “She had talked to one of the waiters in the inn we were staying at. Apparently, there are monsters out there similar to the Abyss Borne of Water.”

Wei Wuxian stuck out four fingers, using his other hand to point at each raised finger, “We’ve dealt with the Abyss Borne of Water, so that’s one down. I had actually run into the True Warrior of Slaughter during my time in the Burial Mounds—it was already dead. It’s where I got Xuanwu from. So that’s another one down.”

Lan Wangji flipped a page, and Wei Wuxian held up two fingers, “That leaves the Molten Blade of the Sun and the Shield Reminiscent of a Face—the Vermillion Bird of the South and the White Tiger of the West respectively.”

Softly, Lan Wangji added, “A sword and shield.”

Then, he furrowed his brow as he put down the report in his hands, “Xue Chonghai’s creations.”

Wei Wuxian nodded as he put his fingers and hand down, “Remnants of the Wen reign. The issue is that no one knows where these creatures are.”

Lan Wangji picked up a brush and dipped it in the pool of red ink. Then, he flipped to the first page of the report that he had put down. With confident strokes, he began to mark it up.

Wei Wuxian peered over at his markings, whistling lowly, “Zhan-er, you’re so strict. You even deduct points for crookedly-written characters. It’s a good thing you haven’t seen any of my assignments—by the end of it, you’d be handing me back more ink than paper.”

“Strict discipline is necessary for a good foundation.”

“But I turned out all right in the end, right?”

Lan Wangji did not answer as Wei Wuxian realized that he spoke before thinking. When that moment of clarity hit him, he awkwardly pursed his lips.

After some time, Wei Wuxian began to theorize, “The Shield Reminiscent of a Face should either be in Gusu or Qishan, as those were where the Wen’s Nightless City was. The Molten Blade of the Sun might be harder—if the shield can protect the hometown, then the sword must also be nearby. But it’s also likely that the sword is near an ancient Wen enemy, like a looming threat against potential opponents.”

Lan Wangji continued marking as Wei Wuxian continued, “Wen Mao had the support of the royal family when the Qishan Wen Sect was formed. Neither the Qinghe Nie Sect, the Lanling Jin Sect, nor the Yunmeng Jiang Sect have any records of going against them at the time. When Wen Mao usurped the throne, the Gusu Lan were no longer a threat, and no one sect had any recorded resentment against the Qishan Wen that was noticeably higher than the other sects.”

Wei Wuxian pursed his lips, “Equally indifferent, then equally hated. Rogue cultivators did not stay in any one place for long, and the Wen royalty were more fixated on the opposing sects rather than individual cultivators.”

With some thought, Wei Wuxian shifted in his position, “I think I’ve got a reasonable theory.”

Lan Wangji did not respond, so Wei Wuxian continued, “The Shield Reminiscent of a Face should be in Qishan, and the Molten Blade of the Sun should be in Gusu. Shield the hometown and defend the palace. If both creatures were in the same place, it would leave the other vulnerable, and with how defensive the Wens are of their hometown, I doubt that they would desert it.”

Lan Wangji finished marking the report, reading the next one. Wei Wuxian picked up the last report, reading through the red markings as he chuckled, “Jingyi’s handwriting isn’t that bad—it’s just that you’re too particular, Zhan-er.”

“His strokes are careless and rushed.”

“Yes, but it’s still readable, no?” Wei Wuxian’s eyes swept over the characters, “He’s quite detailed with his report. I can almost imagine being in his shoes, flying over Biling Lake.”

“Allowing careless strokes will lead to more careless strokes.”

Wei Wuxian put the report down, “Speaking of Sizhui and Jingyi, since they’ve gone back to training in the sect grounds, there’s not much to do here anymore. Jiang Cheng and Shi-jie are busy tending to Jin Ling, and Wen Qing and Wen Ning are busy training Ouyang Zizhen. Even Yu Baihe is on her way home right now. And you have so much paperwork going on, but what am I to do?!”

Lan Wangji did not answer, and Wei Wuxian huffed, “Here, let me help you out, hm?”

He thought of any unfinished palace business. Nie Huaisang was steadily managing logistics, and Jin Zixuan was diligent with his assignments as Director of State. Mo Xuanyu had taken up his post as Director of Internal Affairs quite smoothly, as he already had plans brewing before he took up the post.

So this left Wei Wuxian in a sort of limbo state where he was not a palace official, nor did he have any responsibilities anywhere. He considered returning to the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, but he could only remember the deaths of the previous sect leaders.

Wei Wuxian grinned, “The Inner Palace is still empty.”

Lan Wangji sighed, his hands lowering the report that he was holding as he turned his head towards Wei Wuxian, “What are you suggesting?”

“Consorts and concubines can be installed without you taking an empress, and the Inner Palace is a great way to reinforce connections with the gentry families around the country.” Wei Wuxian leaned in, “I’ve made my rounds around China, and I know how to choose women. You can always make up whatever excuse to not meet them, and you can always marry them without actually meeting them.”

“Frivolous and shallow.”

Wei Wuxian sighed, “Sadly, there’s not much information on the Inner Palace during the Lan Dynasty. The only marriage I know of is your father and mother, but because your father was an Imperial Brother, he wasn’t required to keep more than one wife.”

Wei Wuxian contemplated for a while before perking up, “Think of it like an extension of palace politics. Come on Zhan-er, it’s just connections and added support. You can open up concubine applications, and accept or veto them without needing to meet them.”

“Using people as tools is against the Lan doctrine.”

“They’re not tools! If they’re tools, then aren’t the palace officials also tools?”

Lan Wangji squinted, “Wei Ying, do you just want to see women?”

“Who am I to even consider touching any of the emperor’s wives, potential or not?” Wei Wuxian shuddered, “I may not fear death, but I certainly don’t seek it. The first time was enough.”

Lan Wangji sighed softly, “I will allow you to open up applications, but I will get the final say in whether or not they should be installed.”

Wei Wuxian brightened up, “Look at you, Zhan-er, coming around to whatever I say! It’s about time!”

Lan Wangji’s gaze did not stray from the report, his brush still marking red marks in various places on the paper.

“Zhan-er, you can’t just veto every single application!”

It had only been about half a week. As soon as word got out that the Emperor of China was opening up applications for concubines, the Cloud Recesses was met with buckets on buckets filled with scrolls and booklets that detailed potential candidates.

The general format was the name, clan if applicable, age, and any skills. Wei Wuxian had carefully picked out candidates who came from potentially useful families and delivered them to Lan Wangji, who would only quickly glance over it before marking it as unsuitable for him.

Wei Wuxian got sick of it, slamming his hands down onto Lan Wangji’s desk as he bent over and leaned in.

“You refuse to tell me what sort of women you prefer, you refuse to tell me which families to prefer to be involved with, and you refuse to actually read the applications yourself and filter through them yourself. But then you veto every single one I’ve sent you! Zhan-er, aren’t you being a bit too harsh?!”

“You were the one bothering me to open applications.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to veto all of the ones that I’ve painstakingly sent to you! You won’t even recognize how much work it takes to deliver you these few candidates’ applications. There are hundreds and thousands of these goddamn applications sitting in the study right now—be lucky I only gave you ten or twenty of them!”

Lan Wangji closed his eyes before turning his head to the side, “Connections with the Hedong Fu, Anping Rong, and Tingshan He families are valuable, as these are neutral families spread about the country. Candidates from the Yingchuan Wang and Zhoushan Zhao families are not encouraged, as these are families under high suspicion of corruption and espionage, and will prove to be a headache once they have someone in the Cloud Recesses.”

A grin spread on Wei Wuxian’s face as he rose from Lan Wangji’s desk, “See, now we’re making progress. Give me about an hour, and I’ll get you a batch of candidates that you cannot deny!”

The study that Wei Wuxian asked for applications to be sent to was haphazard and random to the average eye, as all one would see were careless piles of booklets thrown about the room. However, to him, it was perfectly organized. He knew where rejected applications were, where applications on the fence were, where Wei Wuxian-accepted applications were, and where unread applications were.

He waded through the sea of applications to find the seat cushion, sitting himself down with a sigh as he picked up the nearest unread application. Then with some thought, he put it down and picked up an application from the maybe pile, searching for the few surnames that Lan Wangji had listed out.

By the end of it, Wei Wuxian had managed to find five suitable candidates, delivering them to Lan Wangji with a tired satisfaction, “I found a Fu, a Rong, and a He, as you wanted. Then I found a Xiaoguan Sun and a Wuzhou Li, as these are families that fill in some of the gaps between the three family hometowns you listed.”

Lan Wangji took the booklets, thumb running over the rich embroidery of the booklet covers. With some thought, he said, “Isn’t this just installing a new political advisor?”

“You could think of it like that, only that they might have some feelings for you.”

Lan Wangji huffed, “Ridiculous.”

“They apply because they want a chance with you, Zhan-er. If you wanted to turn the Inner Palace into another branch of palace officials, I’m afraid that you would’ve had to specify that when the applications were opened.”

Wei Wuxian hummed, “It’s a shame to waste these candidates, as they are quite talented. They’re also all cultivators with a decent level of cultivation, and are daughters to the heads of the families that would hold valuable knowledge for the Cloud Recesses.”

After some thought, he leaned in, “How about we accept these five and put them in an interview? I’ll interview them and tell them not to expect anything personal from you, okay?”

Lan Wangji looked up at him from behind the desk, and for the first time, Wei Wuxian couldn’t really read his face.

Finally, Lan Wangji lowered his head and closed his eyes with a sigh, “Do whatever you want.”

Lan Xichen, having had his Fleeting Reverie incense taken away with a royal decree, had fallen into alcohol instead.

After all, it still allowed him to hallucinate the happier memories, even if they were somewhat distorted. After so many years, he had begun to forget the smaller details of Jin Guangyao’s facial features and personality.

Over time, he wondered if the image he had of Jin Guangyao was truly what he looked like before, thirteen years ago.

Whenever Lan Wangji came to visit and saw all of the haphazardly-placed empty jugs of Gusu’s famous Emperor’s Smile, he would always clean it up and scold him. No matter how stubborn Lan Xichen was in his drinking habits, it would always just be a scolding and a clean-up.

After some time, Lan Xichen had just tuned it out. He figured Lan Wangji knew, but he never increased the punishment.

He wondered if it was because Lan Wangji expected him to clean up his act by himself.

In the dark room, Lan Xichen laughed as he watched a thin ray of sunlight stream inside from the mostly-covered window. Lan Wangji had drawn the shades earlier, but Lan Xichen tore them back down not long after he had left.

”Brother, I will polish your Shuoyue and Liebing for you. Next time, do not neglect their maintenance.”

”Brother, I have requested the damaged musical scores to be repaired and sent back to the Frost-Laden Manor in a few days.”

”Brother, the weather this week is forecasted to be comfortable. Step outside every now and then.”

The skin of Lan Xichen’s lips knitted itself back together as he laid on the ground, head slumped onto the edge of the bed and an empty jug of liquor in hand. The skin of his face was stiff with dried tears.

Some time had passed like this before Lan Xichen heard the door open. He squinted as he wobbled up to see who the guest was.

Naturally, who else could it be if not Lan Wangji, the only person with enough guts to regularly visit him? Lan Xichen huffed and looked away, hearing Lan Wangji rustle around as he picked up the jugs.

“Wangji, how have you been?”

He never answered Lan Wangji’s questions before and left everything unspoken, much less asked him questions. Thus, Lan Wangji took some time before responding, “Fine.”

Lan Xichen nodded, watching Lan Wangji gently pry the jug from his hands, “That’s good.”

“The musical scores have been repaired. They’re in the study.” Lan Wangji told him, using a few charms to readjust Lan Xichen’s disheveled robes, “Have you been taking your medicine?”

Lan Xichen looked down at the shadowed floorboards, cut up with light as Lan Wangji drew the shades. He looked up, responding softly, “Yes.”

Lan Wangji nodded.

“How is Wei Wuxian?”

Lan Wangji dipped his head in silence for a moment, “Fine.”

“He lives in the Rimefrost Villa with you now?”

“Mn.”

“It’s not good to keep him from the Jiangs.”

“He spends most of the day either with them or outside the palace, only coming back to the villa to sleep or talk.”

“I see.”

After some time, after basking in the sunlit quiet, Lan Xichen closed his eyes, feeling the stinging warmth on his skin.

Maybe today was a good day for a walk, after all.

When news spread around the Cloud Recesses that Lan Wangji had chosen a few women to be interviewed for the positions of concubines, the inhabitants stirred like a poked beehive.

After all, neither Lan brother had taken in any wife or consort—who were the lucky women that had piqued the younger brother’s interest?

But the sentiment was soon dashed away when it had come out that the chosen families had likely only been chosen for a political advantage, and less that they had caught Lan Wangji’s fancy.

Furthermore, there was still no empress. Lan Wangji had appointed Wei Wuxian to oversee the interview and installment processes. To those who were not aware that Wei Wuxian had come back despite his appearance in the Biling Lake night hunt, they certainly were now.

Not only was Lan Wangji accepting multiple concubines without having married an empress, Wei Wuxian had risen from the dead after thirteen years of dormancy.

Some claimed that it was the workings of foul demonic cultivation, some wicked trick that he had set up prior to his death. Or perhaps he had faked his death (no one knew, after all, as Lan Wangji refused to let anyone see the body for months) and decided to make a grand entrance back into the political atmosphere as soon as Lan Xichen went into seclusion.

But if those had been the case, why was it that Lan Wangji had placed so much trust in him? After all, the Inner Palace was not something to be trifled with and was even a delicate matter. One could not be careless with which families married into the palace.

Behind roses were often thorns.

Nie Huaisang had just sent out acceptance letters to the five sect families, stating that their chosen daughters were selected to move onto the next phase. It detailed the time and place before emphasizing that the attached invitation token must be brought to the gates of the Cloud Recesses. Otherwise, they would be denied access with no exception.

Wei Wuxian had been sent to deliver the letters to the Logistics Department, pressing that the tokens must be safely delivered and their importance greatly emphasized. He had told Nie Huaisang with much vigor that he could only sneak in so many people through the gates before Lan Wangji realized.

Nie Huaisang finished polishing the bronze parts of his beloved fan before he folded it back up with a quick snap.

Hedong Fu, Anping Rong, Tingshan He, Xiaoguan Sun, and Wuzhou Li.

Nie Huaisang knew nothing of these sects, but figured that he should probably familiarize himself with them and their temperaments.

With the light research he had done, he found that these sects were small in the grand scheme of things, but were actually quite influential in the towns they inhabited, their reputations even extending to bordering areas.

The closest major city to Hedong was Qishan, though thankfully they did not inherit the Wen ideology. They worked closely with the Pingyang Yao Sect due to proximity.

Anping had many trade agreements with Qinghe and didn’t pose the Nie Sect any issues. They dealt with their own night hunts and crises, so much so that Nie Huaisang would forget about them if it weren’t for the agreements.

Tingshan was close to Gusu but still independent. They didn’t pose any issues but also did not make any moves in the political world. They hardly allied with anyone—their potential alliance with the emperor would be their first known ally.

Xiaoguan was west of Qishan and bordered the expansive desert. Because of this, their efforts were focused more on their water scarcity issue than cultivation politics. Nie Huaisang wondered if, by sending a daughter to Gusu, they were hoping for funding.

Wuzhou was in an area with mostly small villages, so it was the biggest town in southern China. “Biggest” had to be used relatively—from what Nie Huaisang gathered, it was nothing outstanding. Even so, Nie Huaisang saw little point in gaining Wuzhou as an alliance. He wondered if it was because of the southern ports, but he couldn’t find any document that labeled that area as anything notable.

Since these were relatively small towns with little political activity, there wasn’t much in the Library Pavilion or archive about their sect structures that wasn’t decades out-of-date.

“Ah, Huaisang?”

Nie Huaisang turned around, closing the scroll he was holding. When he saw who it was, he gave a cordial smile.

“Ah, Jiang Cheng! It’s been a long time.”

Chapter 27: streaks of sunlight, too warm

Chapter Text

Like an arrow whizzing by, the months passed without many events.

Jin Ling had long woken up, the wounds on his arm healing and scarring. Now, he was sporting a rather “sick looking scar”, as Lan Jingyi had told Wei Wuxian. He only caught a glimpse of the lightning-shaped streaks running up Jin Ling’s hands when he was leaving the Cloud Recesses to return home to Lanling.

Jiang Yanli accompanied him back, and so Wei Wuxian spent more time with Jiang Cheng to cure his loneliness. Jiang Cheng always scoffed, but never pushed him away, secretly liking the more frequent visits.

Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi were making steep progress with their swords. After some time, Lan Sizhui had begun to subconsciously funnel in faster and more concentrated streams of spiritual energy. Lan Jingyi was still working on quicker reflexes with the bursts of spiritual energy, but had noted that Huansheng was responding to him much livelier.

Lan Xichen was making progress, steadily recovering from the withdrawal effects of Fleeting Reverie. He moved back to the Cloud Recesses, saying that the Frost-Laden Manor was now filled with bad memories.

Everyone had expected him to reclaim his throne as emperor, but upon his arrival, he said nothing of the matter.

When Lan Wangji asked him about it, Lan Xichen only asked if he was doing all right. When he answered that nothing of note came up, Lan Xichen had said nothing. Lan Wangji then asked if he was planning to abdicate the throne, but he still got no answer.

Wei Wuxian celebrated his birthday with Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji, having invited the acting emperor to the Lakeside Manor with permission. Nie Huaisang’s workload had increased, so he sent a few presents to make up for his absence at the dinner.

After some more months, it was now winter. Snow was idly drifting down from the sky, coating the barren branches in a light layer of frost.

Wei Wuxian was sprawled across the seat cushion, anxiously waiting for the minutes to pass by.

Scheduling the interviews for nine in the morning was already early enough for him, but Lan Wangji just had to wake him up at six every cold morning. He had even gotten used to the regiment! It didn’t take long for him to get ready, so by the time that Wei Wuxian had gotten to the Frost Palace, it was only seven in the morning.

The interviews were being held in a side room of the Frost Palace, not too far from Lan Wangji’s office. Should anything happen, Wei Wuxian was to tell the nearby eunuch, who would then tell Jiahao, who would then tell Lan Wangji.

But if Wei Wuxian had to guess, if the situation was really so dire that he couldn’t handle it himself, he would surely seek Lan Wangji out himself.

As the minutes ticked by, Wei Wuxian yawned and stretched, his leg knocking against Suibian, who laid sheathed at his side. He sat up, retying his disheveled hair.

As strands of hair slipped through his fingers, he could feel the baby hairs on the back of his neck raise. He shot up from the seat cushion and stomped his foot onto Suibian’s handle, flipping it upwards as he blocked a flying sword.

The sword lodged itself into Suibian’s sheath before flying back towards the door. Wei Wuxian got a good look at the person as she went in for another attack.

It was a young lady, with striking features and bold eyes. She wore cream-colored robes with intricately-embroidered designs on it. Her sword slashes were radiant and golden, reminiscent of a talented cultivator.

Wei Wuxian blocked each attack she made with ease, quickly gauging that while she was talented, she still had room to grow.

After some time, the lady stepped back and shouted, “Your Majesty, why do you not draw your sword?!”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes widened. He knew that he should clarify things, but seeing how fired up the lady was—surely Lan Wangji wouldn’t mind?

He braced for a sneak attack but languidly answered, “Just blocking you is enough, why must I draw my sword?”

The lady puffed up her chest and initiated an attack once more. As before, Wei Wuxian blocked each attack and played defensively.

After some time, he looked outside and gauged that it must be close to nine in the morning.

“What are you looking at?!”

Wei Wuxian looked back at her and grinned. With a few movements, it was as if he stopped time for a moment. He ducked underneath her sword, and with the end of Suibian’s sheath, he lightly jabbed her side, “Gotcha!”

The lady flinched away, hand clutching where Suibian poked, “You—!”

“Ah, Young Lady Li,” Wei Wuxian turned to face her, “you should really do your homework before fighting!”

Li Jianping, the daughter of the Wuzhou Li Sect in the south, wrinkled her face, “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I’m not His Majesty!” Wei Wuxian revealed with a little laugh, “All Gusu Lan Sect members wear white and wear a white forehead ribbon, even His Majesty Lan Wangji. I thought you knew?”

“I was under the impression that His Majesty would be conducting the interviews in place of the empress, who he has not chosen yet.” Li Jianping crossed her arms after she sheathed her sword, “So who are you, anyway, and why do you know who I am?”

“I’m the emperor’s trusted confidant,” Wei Wuxian leaned in, “who did his research. Ah! Don’t say what you’re about to say. I specifically asked His Majesty to consider you, so you should really be thanking me, hm?”

Li Jianping looked rather shocked, but she still huffed, “If that’s the case, don’t expect me to marry him without a duel first!”

“So confident! That’s a nice trait.” Wei Wuxian stuck up a finger, “But there’s still the interview, right?”

Li Jianping was about to retort before the doors behind them opened, and the other four candidates filed in.

All four held spiritual swords at their sides, setting it down beside them as they kneeled on the seat cushions. Li Jianping took her spot, mimicking the sitting posture.

Li Jianping was the Wuzhou Li Sect’s only daughter, long hair braided at the ends with ribbons streaming down. As she had grown up with four or five brothers, she had come to take on their boyish personalities. Her answers to Wei Wuxian’s questions were blunt and tinged with a sense of aggressive caution, as if warning him that she wouldn’t be an easy concubine.

Rong Liwen was the Anping Rong Sect’s eldest daughter, sporting light pink robes and with her hair half-up and pinned with a simple floral comb. Judging by the calluses of her hands and the ink stains underneath her trimmed fingernails, Wei Wuxian gathered that she must be into writing or painting.

Fu Cuifen with the Hedong Fu Sect’s second daughter, wearing a pale green outfit that was frayed at the edges of the sleeves—perhaps a hand-me-down or an older garment. Wei Wuxian could see the slight water stains on her shoulders and sleeves, and combined with the slight scent of grass, he deduced that she must’ve recently rolled around in the grass.

Sun Fenghua was the Xiaoguan Sun Sect’s third daughter, sporting simple yellow robes and a decorative headpiece. Her hair was tied up into a tight bun, allowing for a full view of her demure smile. From her answers, Wei Wuxian figured that she must’ve been quite sheltered, only practicing her cultivation within the sect walls.

He Guiying was the Tingshan He Sect’s fourth daughter, tanned face framed with navy blue robes. Her hair was tied up into a ponytail with just one ribbon, and judging by how short it was and Tingshan’s culture, someone must’ve died recently.

All had traits that did not quite fit into the Lan doctrine’s ideology, so Wei Wuxian happily accepted all of them, formally installing them as the starting positions of concubine.

They were allowed one personal maid from home to accompany them as their lady-in-waiting in the Inner Palace. They were given two weeks to prepare their belongings and a dowry for their marriages, should they accept.

Because Lan Wangji had not installed an empress, no weddings were to be held. The marriage with the chosen concubines would only be on paper.

After Wei Wuxian sent the concubines away, he waltzed over to Lan Wangji’s office, waving at Jiahao as he passed by him.

Lan Wangji was dutifully reading reports at his desk. Upon hearing Wei Wuxian walk in, he put down the paper and looked up, “There was a fight earlier.”

“I didn’t tell you?” Wei Wuxian hummed as he sat down perpendicular to Lan Wangji, resting his arms on the side of the desk, “The area around Wuzhou has a tradition where a prospective husband must duel with the bachelorette. If he wins, he is allowed to marry her—if he doesn’t, then he isn’t.”

Lan Wangji looked up skeptically, “So Young Lady Li Jianping dueled with you?”

“Yep!” Wei Wuxian answered before something clicked, “I’m not taking one of your women! She thought that I was you, and would hardly let me explain before she started fighting me! Naturally, I won, which is why the fighting stopped.”

“I see.”

Lan Wangji stood up from his desk, folding up the report, “Train in the Rimefrost Villa for four hours. Afterwards, I will be visiting my parents’ graves in Moling.”

He turned to Wei Wuxian, “Please accompany us.”

Wei Wuxian blinked, “Why not Zewu-jun?”

“My brother’s health is fragile.” Lan Wangji dipped his head, “He won’t be able to safely make the trip to Moling.”

“Ah.”

Wei Wuxian didn’t see Lan Xichen ever since he relocated to the palace. He stayed holed up in the Orchid Room of the Rimefrost Villa. Only his servant Yuxuan, who had served him at the Frost-Laden Manor, tended to him and was the only one to directly see him besides Lan Wangji.

He never left the Orchid Room, and Wei Wuxian had no reason to talk to him or visit without Lan Xichen initiating it first. So he only passed by the closed doors of the Orchid Room whenever he needed to, acknowledging Yuxuan if he happened to be standing outside.

He only made small talk with Yuxuan if the urge came to him, but it was nothing substantial or heavy—mostly about the weather or about Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi. Lan Xichen had only been brought up by a passing comment Yuxuan made: “I’m sure His Majesty is relieved to have such capable nephews.”

On the way to the training grounds, they passed by the Orchid Room. Yuxuan was not standing outside this time—likely inside tending to Lan Xichen or outside on a quick errand.

Lately, after having Wen Qing examine Wei Wuxian’s new core, Lan Wangji had set up a strict training routine to strengthen his golden core. The treatment they had done with the Scroll of Guanyin could only be used as supplements, so they continued it every night when Wei Wuxian returned to the Quiet Room.

Only by training could Wei Wuxian regain the golden core he once had.

Actually, the core that Baoshan Sanren granted him was quite strong. Although its cultivation was weak when inside an adult man, for a child, it was quite powerful. Wei Wuxian supposed that it was the perks of having an immortal grandmaster.

As Wei Wuxian stepped into the training grounds with Suibian in hand, he felt his arms. He was somewhat built, about as fit as the regular cultivator. The Yunmeng Jiang Sect prided itself on its full-body training, after all. It seemed that the muscles he gained he stayed even after thirteen years of immobility.

Then again, perhaps it was because Lan Wangji had been imbuing spiritual energy into his body for thirteen years straight.

Thirteen years.

Wei Wuxian had pushed it out of his conscious mind. He didn’t quite know what to do with the information Jiang Cheng told him. Talking to Lan Wangji about it felt somewhat strange, like he was bringing up something too personal.

Maybe Lan Xichen had an idea? He’d have to think about it, whether or not Lan Xichen was in a good enough state to talk about that period of time.

“Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian snapped back to reality, seeing that Lan Wangji had unsheathed Bichen. He silently stared forward, watching Wei Wuxian unsheathe Suibian with a smile, “Oh, we’re sparring now?”

Lan Wangji gave a small nod, “Your cultivation is stronger now.”

Wei Wuxian looked down at the hand holding Suibian, swirling it around in his hand as the blade whipped through the air in controlled circles. Suibian was indeed lighter than before, and it was then that he realized that he missed the feeling of swordplay.

He swirled Suibian into a combat position, bending his knees as he looked straight at Lan Wangji, “In three?”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

Wei Wuxian laughed, “Gonna let me take you by surprise whenever?”

“Wei Ying cannot—”

In the middle of his words, Wei Wuxian dashed forward. He channeled no spiritual energy into Suibian, but had Lan Wangji not dodged in time, the wound wouldn’t be nothing to scoff at.

Lan Wangji blocked Wei Wuxian’s relentless attacks, “Low.”

“Low?” Wei Wuxian grinned toothily, “I told you that I could take you by surprise, didn’t I?”

To that, Lan Wangji said nothing, switching to an offensive attack. Wei Wuxian blocked it, watching sparks fly as he laughed, “You know, that young lady from Wuzhou kept getting mad that I was only blocking her attacks, but now it seems like you’re doing the opposite, hm?”

At that, Lan Wangji seemed to make a few blows before he stepped back a bit and assumed a defensive position. Wei Wuxian grinned.

Lan Wangji, like most cultivators in the region, focused their training mostly on reasonable opponents, usually other cultivators with similar attack patterns or a more orthodox defensive style.

The Yunmeng Jiang Sect, whose motto was to attain the impossible, also had the usual basic training. However, past the first phase, it eventually became a “do whatever fighting style you want” kind of deal. Usually this involved disciples traveling to other sects, but for higher-level disciples that had to stay in Yunmeng, they built-up their own styles by sparring with one another.

This sort of untamed, possibly unruly style of fight meant that Wei Wuxian’s attack patterns were not as easily predictable. Although this meant that he had to keep a higher guard of his weak spots and vulnerable openings, he had quick enough reflexes to strike before he could be stricken.

But because he had managed to convince Lan Wangji to take the defensive, Wei Wuxian didn’t need to keep his guard up as much. Of course, he still had to make sure that he wouldn’t launch some sneak attack on him, but it meant that for now, Wei Wuxian could take riskier moves with higher rewards.

Lan Wangji had soon realized that Wei Wuxian’s attack patterns were not regular in the slightest, dodging more often than blocking to try and get a sense of any pattern, if at all. But Wei Wuxian switched between orthodox attack patterns and attacking wherever he felt so often that there truly was no way of predicting his next attack.

But Lan Wangji, true to himself, did not switch to the offensive. Wei Wuxian supposed that he had the strict Lan doctrine to thank for that—he’d have to go look up which rule it was. Was it “do not go back on promises”? Or perhaps “go through with your actions—do not backtrack”?

Whether it was rule twenty-two or rule forty-seven, Wei Wuxian began to notice something.

Lan Wangji had grown-up training with his brother. As they had no real school of cultivation to learn under, they also cultivated a weird form of combat. However, Wei Wuxian guessed that with their installment as generals under the Jin Dynasty combined with the formation of their own orthodox school of cultivation, his fighting style gradually morphed to be more regular.

That was why, until now, Wei Wuxian didn’t bat much of an eye towards him having a regular defense pattern.

However, the more he sparred with Lan Wangji, the more he began to notice hints of that irregular basic training slip through. Wei Wuxian was particularly keen on this, as he had grown up training against abnormal training styles. And because he was attacking Lan Wangji with unpredictable patterns, Lan Wangji had begun to panic and revert back to this basis.

It was how he noticed that whenever Lan Wangji needed to adjust his hold on his sword while defending, instead of finding a break to adjust, he would instead slip his grip subtly right after he deflected a blow. He was taking advantage of the minute amount of time so that he did not need to step back and waste time.

All Wei Wuxian needed to do was find a moment where Lan Wangji’s focus was just not there and quickly divert his deflected blow. It wouldn’t be easy, but so far, Wei Wuxian’s Suibian had always blown backwards after a deflection.

So, there had to be a way to redirect the energy, and then it’d be smooth sailing. Find a split-second moment where Lan Wangji’s focus slips, and redirect a strongly-deflected blow. Yes, Wei Wuxian, super easy.

So far, Wei Wuxian had been taking it casually. If he were to suddenly get serious, Lan Wangji would immediately pick up on it, and his defense would go from rock solid to impossible to overcome.

So he had to keep delivering blows in a casual manner without signaling to Lan Wangji that his goals have changed, while also looking for the smallest of openings to exploit, while also having a god-like reaction time to do a 180 on his block reactions to redirect the hit…

Argh! Why was Lan Wangji honestly so difficult to win against?!

However, as if Lan Wangji had read his mind and frustrations, he suddenly did not block Wei Wuxian’s attack as hard. He even took some time to recover from the blow, taking just a bit longer than usual to reassume his position.

Wei Wuxian didn’t have the time to see if Lan Wangji was paying enough attention, immediately delivering an attack that he had rehearsed over and over again in his mind. As soon as Lan Wangji’s grip on Bichen’s handle slipped just the smallest bit, Wei Wuxian redirected Suibian’s blade to knock against the hilt.

With how quickly everything moved, Bichen had gone flying out of Lan Wangji’s hand. In a flash, Suibian’s blade was skillfully swiped to hover just in front of Lan Wangji’s chest.

From the corner of his eye, Wei Wuxian could see Jiahao stir in a panic, but Lan Wangji closed his eyes and held up a hand to ease him. He stood up from his frozen posture, looking at Wei Wuxian with his usual, indifferent face, “You’ve won.”

Wei Wuxian hurriedly sheathed Suibian to ease Jiahao’s worries, smiling as he went to pick up Bichen, “Not very easily. I had to resort to a little bit of an underhanded tactic to beat you.”

Lan Wangji shook his head as Wei Wuxian handed Bichen back to him, “Not underhanded. You saw a moment of weakness and took advantage of it.”

Wei Wuxian nodded solemnly, “Spoken like a war veteran.”

Lan Wangji tilted his head as Wei Wuxian looked up, “That’s what all ex-soldiers say, right? That nothing’s underhanded in times of war?”

At that, Lan Wangji fell quiet, and gave no response. Even as they discreetly departed the Rimefrost Villa for Moling, he still said nothing to Wei Wuxian.

Lan Wangji often found himself stuck in the past.

Because he no longer had the Fleeting Reverie incense, and the residual smoke had long been cleared out by Wen Qing’s smoke-dispelling talismans, Lan Wangji found himself once more gripped by the memories of battles.

Of thirteen years ago, where he soaked in a rain of his own blood defending the Quiet Room. Or even longer ago, when he was fighting to the death in the last battle of the Sunshot Campaign. Or even longer ago, when he was clearing out the Wen Supervisory Offices that were former sect campuses.

Occasionally, though, the dreams would be less gruesome, though still distressing. He remembered when he had picked up Lan Sizhui when he was just a child, having overheard one of the puppets cry out for an “A-Yuan”.

He figured that the lady that his soldier had cut down must’ve formerly been a mother.

So, he ventured off on his own not long after imprisoning Wen Qing. In the nearby village, he found a small boy, hidden away in an old, blackened tree stump. He was suffering from a high fever from illness, so Lan Wangji wasted no time in taking him away to the Frost-Laden Manor.

The servants in the manor were adept servants, having worked in many residences and taken care of many young children. So, even though they had worked under Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji since they were young adults, they still knew how to take care of sick children.

And because they had been kind employers, and the workplace was not uncomfortable, the servants did not dare to ruin their own lives. So, when Lan Wangji told them to keep quiet about the child, they indeed kept quiet.

Later, when he had Wen Qing sent to the Frost-Laden Manor, little A-Yuan had grown-up and started to cultivate. Wen Qing was quite shocked that this child from the village was still alive, having recounted how she hid him away to a safe place to try and wrangle the villagers back to the town.

Lan Wangji had dipped his head in apology, for his soldiers were not merciful. But Wen Qing had shaken her head, saying that at least it was a quick death, and in their state, it was likely that they didn’t even know what happened. Wen Qing forgave him too quickly.

Lan Wangji could only think of the people he cut down, especially Wens that had gotten in his way. He never questioned whether or not they were working out of genuine malice or if they had been blackmailed or needed a job to live. He wondered if they had wives and children back home, if they had a hometown far away, how long it would take to send a letter of condolences.

This was the nicest dream he could have without the use of the incense.

Lan Wangji considered going back. Things were fine. He had enough money.

But he knew that with time, he would grow desperate. Lan Xichen grew desperate, lighting so many incense burners at once, because he knew Jin Guangyao was dead and had come to somewhat accept it.

Lan Wangji hadn’t accepted Wei Wuxian’s death yet. He was still channeling spiritual energy into his corpse, still playing “Inquiry” for him, still searching for any trace of him.

Unlike the letter Lan Xichen received, the stubborn Lan Wangji had nothing that told him that Wei Wuxian was truly gone. He couldn’t accept that his body, still perfectly preserved on the nearby bed, was going to stay an empty husk forever.

If Wei Wuxian had responded to his “Inquiry”, maybe he would’ve devolved like his brother had.

When Wei Wuxian came back, the Fleeting Reverie incense no longer served solely to give him happy memories of him. It now served to suppress the nightmares of war and bloodshed, of suffering and torment.

“Zhan-er,” Wei Wuxian’s voice seeped through his thoughts, “we’re here.”

Lan Wangji looked around, “How did you know exactly where the house was?”

Wei Wuxian laughed, “It only takes about a full day to get to Moling from Gusu. When Jin Guangyao said that he found your parents’ graves, I went to find them myself when I had a few free days—you got so mad at me! But I poked around a bunch, and then found it.”

Lan Wangji looked at the house, dilapidated and nearly falling down. Wei Wuxian bounded in front of him, catching himself into Lan Wangji’s gaze, “The weeds were overgrown when I had gotten here. It seems that Jin Guangyao didn’t make it a mission to clean it up, so I cleaned it up every now and then when I got the chance to go up to Moling.”

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian went to the back, where the tombstone stood strong. Lan Wangji had carved in the names on his first visit. The offerings from before had decayed, so Wei Wuxian went to refresh it.

“The grass around here is well-kept.” Wei Wuxian smiled as he threw out the old food and placed down fresh, steaming new ones from his qiankun pouch, “Good job, Zhan-er! You know how to landscape now, hm?”

Lan Wangji lowered his eyelids and began to help, using a charm to clean up the accumulated dust and pluck the weeds out from the surrounding area.

When the area was cleaned up, Lan Wangji stood beside Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji held out six sticks of incense, and Wei Wuxian burned up a talisman to light it. Lan Wangji gave him three of the smoking incense sticks with a dip of the head, and Wei Wuxian dipped his head in turn to receive them.

Facing the tombstones, they bowed three times before sticking the incense into the pot of ash, where the other burnt incense sticks had been placed.

When they walked back about three paces from the tombstones, Wei Wuxian leaned over, “Some of those sticks look recent. I assume you visit regularly.”

“Today is the day my brother and I entered the palace as generals.” Lan Wangji spoke softly, “I… don’t know when their birthdays are. So I use this day, as it is easy.”

“Ah! You should’ve told me that—perhaps I would’ve gotten them a treat.” Wei Wuxian bowed once more.

Lan Wangji dipped his head, as if in a silent apology. They stood in silence, a period where they could send quiet messages to their spirits.

He had a thought, a quiet thought, but one that infiltrated his mind. He looked up at Wei Wuxian, feeling a knot convulse in his guts as he forced out, “Wei Ying.”

“Hm?”

He lowered his eyelids, beginning to wonder if it was a bad idea. After all, he had no idea what would happen. He struggled to try to prevent his voice from shaking.

“I want to try something, just before we leave.”

Chapter 28: fragrance of lotus blossoms

Chapter Text

Wei Wuxian didn’t expect Lan Wangji to tell him something like that, especially considering that whenever he wanted to do something secret or privately, he would walk off whenever and do it alone without telling anyone.

For him to tell Wei Wuxian this outrightly, it must mean that Lan Wangji wanted him to stay with him.

So Wei Wuxian nodded, dipping his head down as he whispered, “Okay.”

Even though there was no one around, it was still too quiet for him to talk normally. It seemed even more quiet than before, when he still talked in a normal volume. Right now, it was as if the rustling of grass had died down, and the nearby bugs fell into an afternoon slumber.

Lan Wangji sat down criss-crossed in the grass, seemingly not to care if it would stain his robes. Wei Wuxian sat down next to him, watching as he summoned his guqin and rested it on his knees.

He plucked a few notes, and Wei Wuxian grew curious, “What are you playing?”

“‘Inquiry’. I… created this technique over a decade ago. It allows me to speak to nearby spirits.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes lit up, “Really? Then…”

He looked over at the tombstone, where the carefully etched-out names stood bright and unobstructed. Lan Muchen. Fang Chunhua.

Two notes rang out, and Lan Wangji held his breath. Wei Wuxian looked over at him, “What is it?”

But he did not answer, plucking a few more notes. Wei Wuxian watched as the strings seemed to pluck themselves. Wei Wuxian’s eyes widened, but he did not dare to breathe.

Lan Wangji let out his breath, “It’s...”

Wei Wuxian was just about to ask who, but looking at the wildly different face that Lan Wangji bore, he knew it had to be either one of his parents, “Your…?”

“My mother.” Lan Wangji’s fingers rested nervously on the strings, moving around as he struggled to decide on which question to ask.

Wei Wuxian tried to lighten up the mood a bit, “How about you transcribe the dialogue, ah? I’m not a master guqin player like yourself.”

Lan Wangji did not answer, but simply asked, “Do you know how you died?”

There was a moment of silence before the strings rang out, ”Night hunt.”

“What monster?”

”Don’t know.”

Lan Wangji hesitated for a moment, but then the strings rang out again with resolute clarity, ”It’s still here.”

Lan Wangji hurriedly replied, “Where?”

”Qishan.”

“But how did— how did you get back?” Lan Wangji stuttered when he transcribed it, but likely not when he asked the question, as Wei Wuxian heard no repeated notes.

”By sword. For days. Dire situation.”

Lan Wangji blinked before responding, “What sort of monster was it like?”

”Fire. Bird.”

Wei Wuxian’s breath hitched, “The Molten Blade of the Sun?”

Lan Wangji connected the dots, but when he asked, his mother did not know.

Wei Wuxian breathed slowly, “If… Your parents were capable cultivators. It couldn’t have been any ordinary firebird.”

Lan Wangji swallowed, asking another question, ”How have you been?”

The birds chirped as the sky began to shift orange.

”I’ve been well. Your father too.”

Lan Wangji did not say anything, and plucked a few notes, saying that they were the ending notes. A goodbye of sorts, to end the conversation.

But Lan Wangji still sat there. Wei Wuxian thought that he needed a moment to himself before getting up and getting back to business, but Lan Wangji just sat there, as still as a statue.

“Zhan-er?”

Lan Wangji’s shoulders began to shake, and if Wei Wuxian craned his ears, he could hear a slight sob.

Wei Wuxian began to panic. He was never good with comforting people, and especially not Lan Wangji, who had never cried, at least not in front of him.

Come to think of it, he never really did see Lan Wangji make any emotion beyond anger or annoyance.

So he sat there, looking away as he silently listened to the sniffles and choked sobs, like Lan Wangji was trying to hide it.

It was beginning to get dark, so they decided to spend the night at an inn in Moling. Because it was a particularly busy day today, all but one room was available.

Although Wei Wuxian seemed hesitant, Lan Wangji reasoned that if they didn’t take it now, it could be gone later. So they booked the room, and just to try their luck, they looked around at other inns.

Seeing that all of the other inns were full, they relented and settled down in the single room they booked.

The inn wasn’t particularly large, so instead of two beds, there was only one large bed. The room was smaller than other inns they had stayed at, with smaller walkways and a smaller table.

Wei Wuxian kicked off his boots, flopping onto the bed, “Zhan-er?”

Lan Wangji had long stopped crying, sporting his usual indifferent face as he took off his outer robes, “Yes?”

“Let’s have a drink, hm?” Wei Wuxian sat down at the table, taking out a cup and pouring out a jug of liquor from his qiankun pouch, “Jiang Cheng brought over some Hefeng Wine that he got from Yunmeng. You haven’t had a taste of it yet.”

Lan Wangji said nothing, but sat down at the table. Wei Wuxian’s eyes widened, “R— Really?”

“You said that you brewed the formula yourself, right?” Lan Wangji inquired, taking the cup that Wei Wuxian poured out and downing it in one full motion, “One should try new things to live life properly.”

Wei Wuxian was left frozen as Lan Wangji took a deep breath.

Then, Wei Wuxian smiled, raising the jug he took out, “You’re right—let’s try new things!”

Wei Wuxian had brought a few bottles, and after the alcohol sent Lan Wangji into a nap hunched over the table, Wei Wuxian finished every last drop.

His alcohol tolerance was quite high, but Hefeng Wine was extremely potent. Thus, after a few bottles, although Wei Wuxian was still mostly all right, his nerves had become looser.

Lan Wangji stirred from his rest, his head wobbling up as Wei Wuxian smiled, “Wakey wakey, Zhan-er. How’s it like? Do you like the taste?”

Lan Wangji said nothing for a while, staring with half-lidded eyes at Wei Wuxian. Then finally, with a soft voice, he answered slowly, “Bitter.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes widened, and he seemed to sober up a bit, “B— Bitter? Zhan-er, you’re never picky with anything, and all you eat is bitter food, but this is bitter?”

“Mn.”

“So…” Wei Wuxian carefully proceeded, “if I ask you any question, will you answer it?”

“Mn.”

“The scars. Will you let me see them this time?”

Lan Wangji did not answer, the hands tightly clenched.

Wei Wuxian was about to take it back before Lan Wangji dutifully stood up.

Wei Wuxian perked as he looked up, watching as Lan Wangji slowly took his inner robes off, showing tightly-bound bandages wound around him. Wei Wuxian’s breath hitched as Lan Wangji turned to look at him silently.

Wei Wuxian stood up, walking forward. The bandages looked to be a day old, somewhat stained with blood and loosened with the day’s bodily movements.

Lan Wangji surfaced a roll of gauze and a vial of ointment from his qiankun pouch and placed it on the bedside like it was rehearsed. Then, he began to use a fingernail to piece at a piece of the unraveling gauze on his shoulder. When it began to peel off, he slowly removed it.

“Unwrap. Then apply the ointment and rewrap.” Lan Wangji’s eyelids lowered, speaking more with his eyes than his mouth.

Wei Wuxian watched as Lan Wangji peeled each strip off, one by one, letting it fall into a mess on the floor. Blood began to seep out, and Wei Wuxian hurriedly applied some hemostatic charms to stop it.

After some time, Lan Wangji had gone from carefully peeling the old gauze off to straight up ripping it off, parts of scabs tearing off from the skin. Wei Wuxian hurried to stop him, “Zhan-er, are you crazy?! You’re just going to make it worse—here, stop it, let me do it.”

Lan Wangji did indeed stop, lowering his hands. Wei Wuxian grabbed a nearby cloth and wiped away the blood that stained his fingertips. After they were clean, he applied more charms onto the freshly-ripped wound before cautiously peeling the gauze off.

It was harder than he thought, trying not to rip the delicate scabs. He found that there were scars underneath, and that these new wounds were quite fresh. Whenever Wei Wuxian’s knuckles brushed against the unwounded skin, he found that it was rough, like scars laid over older scars.

The new wounds were long, stretching over the expanse of his back. But the oldest wounds, the very oldest wounds, were finer and more numerous, scattered like snow all over his body. The longer slashes were just concentrated on his back.

“Zhan-er,” Wei Wuxian whispered, “what happened?”

Lan Wangji’s head lolled to the side, and with much hesitation, he replied slowly, “Regrets.”

“What regrets?”

“Not being there… earlier.” Lan Wangji seemed to pout, slowly pausing between words, “You were… scared… could’ve… helped…”

A beat of silence. Then Wei Wuxian sighed.

“You were busy fighting outside.” Wei Wuxian removed the last of the bandages, bending over to pick up the washcloth to begin cleaning up the wounds, “Even if you were in the Quiet Room, you wouldn’t be able to help.”

“Brother… misses… Jin Guangyao…”

Wei Wuxian faltered for a minute, “Is that why he got so hooked on the Fleeting Reverie incense?”

But Lan Wangji didn’t seem to regard the question, “Vivid… dreams…”

“Hm?” Wei Wuxian hummed, “Yeah, the incense that makes you have vivid dreams.”

Wei Wuxian pressed a cold wet washcloth to Lan Wangji’s back, and the latter hissed before turning around with a cold face. Wei Wuxian pursed his lips, turning Lan Wangji back around, “I need to clean and dress your back, just give me a second and stay still.”

Lan Wangji looked hesitant, but obediently allowed Wei Wuxian to clean up the blood and residual ointment.

The room fell quiet, with only the sounds of Wei Wuxian slathering on ointment and rewrapping Lan Wangji with new bandages. The gauze was thin, so every time he lightly pressed down to set the gauze flush against the skin, he could feel the uneven ridges where scars started and ended.

When the last bandage was applied and Wei Wuxian made sure that all of the open wounds were treated and covered, he lightly patted Lan Wangji’s shoulder, “There we go, all done—”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Wei Wuxian saw the world reel as Lan Wangji whipped around, grabbing Wei Wuxian by the shoulders and slamming him into the bed.

“Ah—!”

Lan Wangji was pressing his entire weight onto Wei Wuxian, his face now taking on a more determined look. Wei Wuxian grabbed Lan Wangji’s wrists, but could not get them to budge, “Zhan-er, what are you—”

“Teasing…” Lan Wangji drawled, blinking unevenly, “wife…?”

Wei Wuxian thought for a moment until his mind landed on memory from a long time ago, where Lan Wangji had pinned him down just like this, and Wei Wuxian made some off-handed mention about his future wife getting the wrong idea if this became a habit.

He laughed, “Zhan-er, thinking of your concubines already? You haven’t even met them! Who is it that you’re thinking of, hm? Maybe the new Lan Dynasty will see an empress now!”

Lan Wangji tilted his head, “‘Empress’?”

“What, confused now?” Wei Wuxian couldn’t help but laugh again, trying to pry Lan Wangji’s hands off his shoulders to no avail, “The empress is your chosen wife. Supposed to be the first wife, but you’re an exception, so I suppose it must be your strongest love, hm?”

Lan Wangji’s eyelids fluttered as he looked around. Wei Wuxian, for a moment, thought that perhaps he looked somewhat shy.

“Yes, Zhan-er, your strongest love.” Wei Wuxian teased, looking at how Lan Wangji’s earlobes grew pink, “I wonder which lady—”

Lan Wangji’s grasp on his shoulders tightened, and Wei Wuxian winced, “Hey! Zhan-er, you absolute brute, let go! It hurts!”

At the last statement, Lan Wangji loosened his hold, but for some reason, Wei Wuxian just could not break free still. Wei Wuxian groaned, slumping into the bed, “Zhan-er, I was wrong to tease you, okay? It’s almost time for you to go to bed, right?”

Lan Wangji seemed to think for a minute, like he was referencing an internal clock. Then, he shook his head. It shook free some strands of hair that hung at his shoulder, so now it cascaded like a surrounding waterfall, framing Wei Wuxian’s face as Lan Wangji leaned in.

When he had thrown out all of the Fleeting Reverie incense, the lavender scent made way for the original sandalwood. All of the robes had been treated, so the permeating lavender was cleared out and refreshed with the original scents.

So, when Lan Wangji leaned in closer, Wei Wuxian could smell freshly-laundered clothing and a new scent of sandalwood. It was warm, he noticed, as Lan Wangji’s steady breathing enveloped his face. Because he had not put on his robes yet, the definition of his muscles became more apparent up close.

Wei Wuxian looked at Lan Wangji, noting how light his eyes were. But the more he looked, the more Lan Wangji looked as if he were going to cry.

Wei Wuxian pursed his lips. It was Lan Wangji bullying him right now, not the other way around, so why was it that he was the one that looked like a wronged wife?!

He grabbed Lan Wangji’s rock solid wrists and tried to push again, to no avail, “Lan Zhan, come on!”

A thought crossed his mind, and he turned his head towards one of the hands pressing him down. As quickly as possible, he bit the nearest finger.

As expected, Lan Wangji let go, withdrawing his hand back as if a fire had scalded him. Wei Wuxian took advantage of this opportunity to use his free arm, landing an open-handed punch straight to Lan Wangji’s bandaged chest.

Because he was completely drunk, Lan Wangji’s spiritual energy wasn’t stable, so he stumbled backwards from the punch. Wei Wuxian sat up straight, massaging his sore shoulders, “Aiya, Zhan-er, why are you so strong? It hurts…”

Lan Wangji was only looking at the small bite mark on his finger. Wei Wuxian quickly noticed that he was no longer the focus of Lan Wangji’s gaze, and so smoothed out the wrinkles in his robes, “What, never been bit before?”

Lan Wangji did not budge, only holding the finger up into his line of sight.

Wei Wuxian waited for a moment, and seeing that Lan Wangji was making no more moves, he picked up Lan Wangji’s inner robes and slowly dressed him, “You’re like a big baby—so unreasonable and childish.”

He heard a small sniffle, and when Wei Wuxian leaned off to the side to see Lan Wangji’s face, he saw that he was pouting!

Wei Wuxian bit back his laughter, walking to face him directly, “Zhan-er, how old are you?”

Lan Wangji’s gaze drifted from Wei Wuxian to the background and back to him, not answering him.

Wei Wuxian held Lan Wangji’s shoulders gently, keeping the dressed wounds in mind, “Are you… three years old?”

Lan Wangji shook his head quite loosely, looking as if his head were about to fall off his neck, “No.”

“Then… two years old?”

Another shake of the head.

“Then you are one year old, Lan Zhan!”

As Wei Wuxian laughed, he noticed that Lan Wangji looked quite enamored, his gaze following the way Wei Wuxian threw his head backwards.

Then suddenly, Lan Wangji bowed his head and rested his forehead on Wei Wuxian’s chest. The latter was thankful that, because he was disguised as a commoner, Lan Wangji did not have any elaborate headpieces that would impale Wei Wuxian.

But still, wasn’t this a bit wrong?

Lan Wangji nuzzled into Wei Wuxian’s chest, rising as Wei Wuxian took a deep breath of surprise, “Zh— Zhan-er…? Lan Zhan?”

“... Ying…” Lan Wangji mumbled drunkenly, keeping his head glued to Wei Wuxian’s chest, “Missed…”

Missed you.

“Aiya, Zhan-er.” Wei Wuxian tried to peel Lan Wangji off his chest, “Save this for your concubines, ah?”

Lan Wangji refused to peel away from Wei Wuxian’s chest, and the latter was beginning to grow more desperate. Even as he held Lan Wangji by the temples and tried to pull away, it seemed that an immovable boulder was now strapped to his chest.

Wei Wuxian pursed his lips, “Zhan-er, come on!”

The metal cloud emblem of the forehead ribbon was beginning to brand itself into Wei Wuxian’s skin at this rate.

He had an idea, and with one swift hand motion, he undid the knot of the forehead ribbon at the back of Lan Wangji’s head.

He wasn’t sure if it was because the ribbon was made of a near-indestructible material and was thus a good tool for Wei Wuxian to use to push Lan Wangji’s head away—or if Lan Wangji himself had weakened his pushback. Either way, as Wei Wuxian gripped the ribbon from both sides and used it to push Lan Wangji’s head off his burning chest, Lan Wangji’s eyes widened and he looked up.

The ribbon fell into Wei Wuxian’s helpless hands as Lan Wangji wobbled back up to a standing position, a look of shock painted over his face.

Indignant, Wei Wuxian scowled, “Lan Zhan, it’s about time you got off me! What’s with you?”

Finally, Lan Wangji said a word, loud and clear, “You…”

“I what?” Wei Wuxian scrutinized the silky ribbon in his hands, watching it gracefully flow between his fingers and cascade off the sides of his hands, “Well would you look at that, it really does feel like holding a cloud.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji started again, “you…”

“Spit it out, Zhan-er.” Wei Wuxian looked up before smiling, “Ohh, do you feel naked without it? Here, let me put it back on for you.”

Lan Wangji snatched the ribbon out from his hands and took a few steps backwards, “You—!”

“‘You’, ‘you’, ‘you’,” Wei Wuxian groaned, “is that all you can say now that you’re drunk? Even when you’re drunk, your vocabulary seems so limited!”

Lan Wangji, as usual, did not regard him. Instead, he was clumsily trying to retie the forehead ribbon, but it was either too loose or too crooked. With time, Lan Wangji only grew more and more frustrated.

Wei Wuxian sighed, stepping forward and raising his arms, “Aiya, you can’t focus. Here, let me do it for you.”

But Lan Wangji only slapped his hand away, “Cannot touch.”

Wei Wuxian knit his brows, “You’re so unreasonable!”

As he said that, Lan Wangji seemed to pout again (or perhaps it was his imagination) and kept on fiddling with the ribbon. Wei Wuxian looked outside the window, away from Lan Wangji, noting that it was now very dark outside, “It’s a good thing that the Cloud Recesses forbids alcohol, or else you’d have to execute everyone who would see you drunk like this.”

Lan Wangji’s forehead ribbon was wrinkled and crooked, unevenly tied as one side hung down his hair much longer than the other. He dipped his head as his arms hung heavily at his sides, looking like a scolded child who had just been told to stand in a corner.

Wei Wuxian finally looked over, exasperatedly sighing as he approached, “All done? It’s probably about nine in the evening. Let’s lay you down, okay?”

Lan Wangji parted his lips, but seemed to hesitate (or perhaps forget what he was going to say). In the end, he closed them promptly before walking over to the shared bed and laying down on the inside like clockwork.

Wei Wuxian huffed, laying down on the outer edge as far away from Lan Wangji as possible. All of the liquor was gone, and he was honestly too exhausted to run around outside. Besides, if Lan Wangji were to wake up still intoxicated, he had to be here to make sure he didn’t do anything.

He pursed his lips, silently cursing his situation.

It was still dark outside when Wei Wuxian stirred awake, likely not very far into the evening.

He couldn’t remember if he had any dream or nightmare, waking up rather confused. He was absolutely drenched in sweat, extremely warm and even hot in his chest. There was a weight on top of him that he couldn’t quite seem to shake off.

He looked to the side, seeing that Lan Wangji was no longer there. Immediately, a panic kicked in him.

But the weight on his body refused to let him even budge, and even seemed to squeeze tighter and warmer around him. It was even beginning to be difficult to breathe, with shocks pulsing waves through his body.

And then, he heard a soft voice. Cracked and choked with tears it seemed, holding a heavy, poignant tone as it was spoken directly into Wei Wuxian’s ear.

“Come back… come back…”

Wei Wuxian turned his head as far as he could, still constricted within the grasp, “Zhan-er?”

But it was as if Lan Wangji could not hear him. Wei Wuxian felt his chest grow warmer, and as he craned to look down, there was a pale blue glow at the hottest spot—where Lan Wangji was fiercely pressing his bandaged chest against Wei Wuxian’s open robes.

Wait, open robes?

Now that he had truly woken up, he noticed that Lan Wangji had untied both of their robes at the front. Thankfully, it seemed that the gauze was still intact, as Wei Wuxian felt no blood in the few places where he could still feel.

“A-Ying,” Lan Wangji’s tender voice permeated the thick air, revealing just how staggered his rapid breathing was, “please come back…”

“Zhan-er, wake up.” Wei Wuxian lifted his free hand and carefully placed it on his back, feeling Lan Wangji’s thin robes over the ridged bandages, “I’m here, I’m here.”

Still, Lan Wangji could not hear him, only chanting “come back” over and over again. Perhaps he was having a vivid nightmare? But it wouldn’t explain why Lan Wangji was hugging him so tightly and transferring spiritual energy to him.

Then it clicked in Wei Wuxian—perhaps this was what Lan Wangji had done for those thirteen years.

Wei Wuxian suddenly felt a knot in his throat, patting Lan Wangji’s back lightly as he tried again, “Lan Zhan, it’s me. I’m here, wake up.”

Nothing. Wei Wuxian was at a loss.

Strangely, he thought of his last dying thoughts. It was faint—he couldn’t quite remember the details, but remembered fading in and out of consciousness.

But he remembered a little tune, hummed through the haze of the screaming resentful energy. It was soothing, distracting Wei Wuxian from his full-body pain, and allowing him a momentary bliss.

So Wei Wuxian recalled that small memory, and hummed.

His throat vibrated against Lan Wangji’s delicate collar bone as he did. The rich tone stayed within his throat as he kept his lips closed. He hummed only loud enough for the both of them to hear, and slowly so that each note could ring in the thick air.

Wei Wuxian rubbed soothing circles into Lan Wangji’s back, feeling the rise and fall of Lan Wangji’s rapid breathing. He aimed to keep a steady, slow rhythm with both his humming and soothing. He took quiet breaths in between melodic phrases to regulate his own breathing.

Although the weight did not lessen, Lan Wangji stopped holding Wei Wuxian so tightly. He seemed to relax, and the chanting faded into nothing. When Wei Wuxian heard Lan Wangji’s ragged breathing stabilize, he figured that he must’ve fallen asleep.

Still, he hummed as long as he could, just in case.

Chapter 29: gold sheets floating like snow

Chapter Text

Two life purposes.

Baoshan Sanren’s spiel was stuck in Wei Wuxian’s head. While he couldn’t quite see her, her voice rang in his head.

One purpose was for the biggest moment of your life, the other was for your retirement.

For Wei Wuxian, who had lived two lives but only encountered one purpose, had his purposes reset?

Maybe not, for the concept of two purposes was nothing but a concept. Besides, whether Wei Wuxian was about to find his first or second purpose, it didn’t matter. He was forced to proceed on with life regardless of his lack of motivation.

Maybe his purpose in this life was finding Lan Wangji an empress. Now that was much more palatable than ripping his guts out.

Even so, as he was dreaming about this contemplation, he could feel an uncomfortable knot in his stomach.

It was early morning when Wei Wuxian stirred again, hearing the morning birds chirp delightfully just outside the window, just above the chatter of opening market stalls.

He groaned, feeling remnant warmth on his chest and feeling quite sore all over.

When the memories of midnight flooded back in, he first looked for Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed in all layers of his robes. The bandages were completely covered by the thick winter layers. His forehead ribbon was smoothed out and pristinely tied, as if nothing had ever happened.

Wei Wuxian made eye contact with him as he rose from the bed, and he immediately looked away, “Are…”

He didn’t quite know what to say. Lan Wangji was equally as silent, looming in the corner of the small room as Wei Wuxian hurriedly dressed himself.

“Ah, Zhan-er, did you know that Moling is actually quite famous for their breakfast buns?” Wei Wuxian deflected as he fastened his boots, “I heard they have all sorts of fillings available—from red bean paste to pickled olive leaves to scrambled eggs—we should go pick a few and try them out.”

Quietly, “Mn.”

Wei Wuxian immediately brightened, seeing that Lan Wangji didn’t seem too perturbed, “Let’s go then—we can eat breakfast while heading back.”

“Mn.” It was a little louder now, if Wei Wuxian paid enough attention.

The walk back to the Cloud Recesses was nothing exciting, but it was still quite scenic—sprawling forests and tall trees, with wintery snow falling through the strong branches. Thin snow crunched underneath their feet as they walked, Wei Wuxian talking about his snow days in Yunmeng while Lan Wangji listened carefully.

Wei Wuxian finished the last of his buns, burning the wax paper into a crisp and letting the ashes fly away as the wind picked up, “Zhan-er, I should take you to see Yunmeng one day.”

Lan Wangji lowered his eyelids as he wiped a bit of sauce from the corner of his lips, “I cannot stray too far from the palace.”

Wei Wuxian let out an understanding noise before a thought clicked in his head, “Can’t you use a teleportation talisman?”

“Consumes too much spiritual energy.”

“Ahh…” Wei Wuxian nodded.

He had forgotten that he could only freely use it before because Baoshan Sanren had given him charms that temporarily multiplied his supply of spiritual energy—just so he could quickly maneuver around from city to city during the Sunshot Campaign without being traced.

The baby hairs on his neck rose once more, and Wei Wuxian summoned Suibian to deflect the flying sword.

He recognized the sword glare, seeing Li Jianping rush out on horseback from behind them. She pulled on the reins a few paces away from the two, wearing a fierce glare that contrasted the expensive-looking beige martial robes that she sported, “You again!”

Wei Wuxian co*cked his head to the side as he took a step forward, “Concubine Li, can’t you get a better introduction?”

She dismounted her pure white horse, stepping forward with her head held high, “Step aside. I wish to duel with His Majesty!”

Wei Wuxian cast a side glance at Lan Wangji. The latter simply stared forward, blinking languidly as if no one was there.

Li Jianping clearly did not like this and brandished her sword in a readied stance, “Draw your sword!”

Wei Wuxian tilted his head to look at Lan Wangji, “So? What are you gonna do, Zhan-er?”

Lan Wangji only moved his eyes to look at Wei Wuxian before closing his eyes. With one swift motion, he drew Bichen. He cast Wei Wuxian a wary glance, so the latter stepped off to the side.

As soon as Lan Wangji assumed position, Li Jianping rushed forward to make her first attack.

Gold and light blue sword glares collided and rained sparks into the fresh snow. Through his fogging breath, Wei Wuxian watched the two meet for a split second before the force of their blows blasted them outwards.

Li Jianping’s cultural robes were less of the traditional wear of women in the northern regions—hers were built for martial combat and horseback riding. While there was fabric that indeed resembled parts of a long skirt, her sleeves clung tight to her forearms, and she wore flowy pants. Leather reminiscent of armor covered her shoulders and arms, and her boots were slightly worn with age. Warming talismans were embroidered into the inner parts of her thin cloak.

Lan Wangji’s attire, because he had grown up in the area, more closely fit what most men wore in the northern regions. His sleeves were double-tiered, with a long layer that hung loosely down to his wrist and a short layer that stopped at his elbow layered on top. His robes completely covered his pants, and flipped around him like tides in lakes. Atop everything, he wore a thick, fur-lined cloak that billowed behind his every movement.

Wei Wuxian heard a yelp, and watched as Li Jianping’s sword stuck into the ground just by his feet. Wei Wuxian jumped in the opposite direction before indignantly raising his head, “Zhan-er, can’t you deflect it elsewhere?!”

Lan Wangji looked at him and only dipped his head.

Wei Wuxian half-expected Li Jianping to shout some remark or demand, but she only stared at Lan Wangji incredulously. When she whipped her head over to look at Wei Wuxian, he suddenly felt a cold chill sweep over his body.

Why was she looking at him like that?

Li Jianping advanced, and Wei Wuxian warily watched her. But she only picked up her sword, flicking off the dirt and snow, “Hey.”

“Ah?”

“You and His Majesty, are you two…”

She trailed off once Lan Wangji approached. Seeing that she didn’t finish her question, Wei Wuxian attempted to fill it in, “Ah, are you asking who I am?”

Li Jianping said nothing, as if torn between her words. Wei Wuxian saluted, “Wei Ying, courtesy name Wei Wuxian, senior disciple of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect…”

He only moved his eyes to look at Lan Wangji as he trailed off. Come to think of it, in all these months, he had only been introducing himself to people as a Yunmeng Jiang Sect disciple, but he felt that that was a bit of a stretch, as he hadn’t visited the Lotus Pier in so long. He could argue that he had not left the sect, but what exactly was his position in the palace?

Wei Wuxian pursed his lips into a smile as he continued, “... and His Majesty’s closest confidant and advisor.”

Lan Wangji’s ears perked as he subtly tilted his head in Wei Wuxian’s direction. Li Jianping sheathed her sword before crossing her arms, “I see.”

She turned towards Lan Wangji and saluted, “Your Majesty, are you two heading to the Cloud Recesses?”

Wei Wuxian shuffled to Lan Wangji’s side with a bright grin, “We are!”

Li Jianping focused her attention on Wei Wuxian, “That’s good, I’m on my way there now.”

Lan Wangji finally spoke, “Where is your lady-in-waiting?”

Li Jianping, perhaps giddy that the emperor asked her a question this time, perked up, “Ah, Shihan should be just behind me—”

“Your Highness!”

Wei Wuxian craned his neck, watching a maid dressed in simpler riding robes gallop up on a brown horse. She seemed quite panicked as she rode up, “Your Highness, please don’t rush off like that anymore!”

She eased her horse before her eyes landed on Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, the latter of which smiled and waved. Shihan seemed to falter for a bit before something clicked in her head.

She hurriedly dismounted, almost falling off as she dropped into a low bow, “Your Majesty, I’m so sorry for my lady!”

“Shihan, what are you apologizing for?” Li Jianping tilted her head, but Shihan did not budge.

Finally, Lan Wangji waited for the dust to settle before coolly saying, “You may rise.”

Only then did Shihan rise, immediately turning to Li Jianping, “My lady, now that you’re a concubine of the palace, you mustn’t be so reckless!”

“Reckless?” Li Jianping pouted, “I’m not eight years old anymore!”

“My lady!” Shihan urged.

Wei Wuxian interjected carefully, “Since you’re here, Miss Shihan, shall we travel together?”

“Ah, of course!” Shihan bowed her head before looking up curiously, “If I may know your name?”

So Wei Wuxian introduced himself again, and it seemed that Shihan panicked once more before dropping her head again. Wei Wuxian figured that perhaps their simple robes—simple on purpose since Lan Wangji wasn’t traveling with an entourage—had given off the illusion that Wei Wuxian was a servant much like herself. He wondered if she noticed that Lan Wangji was wearing similarly simple clothing.

Either way, it wasn’t her fault, so Wei Wuxian quickly urged for her to rise.

The trip back to the Cloud Recesses was nothing eventful. Li Jianping only briefly mentioned running into Sun Fenghua much earlier. She revealed that Sun Fenghua had a condition where her meridians were much thinner and weaker than the average cultivator, so she grew tired more easily.

They had run into her and her lady-in-waiting resting off to the side. Li Jianping, so isolated from most of the more-populated sectors of China, was eager to make friends with her new sisters. So she dismounted her horse and chatted with Sun Fenghua, which was how the matter of her condition was brought up.

Wei Wuxian nodded slowly, because even though Li Jianping was talking to both him and Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian was the only one to respond back to her, “When she gets to the Cloud Recesses, I’ll send Wen Qing over to take a look at her and see if anything can be done.”

Li Jianping, having warmed up to him over the course of their journey, looked down from her horse with a bright smile, “That’d be great!”

As she swayed left and right from the horse’s steps, Wei Wuxian swore he heard her mutter, “Is he…” before trailing off once more.

Before he could think about it more though, they finally arrived at the Cloud Recesses.

News spread that the first concubine—Concubine Li—had just moved into the Inner Palace today, her dowry consisting of nothing but purely hand-stitched brocade and other intricate bolts of fabric alongside a modest amount of gold taels.

Beyond that, though, was the fact that she rode on horseback, and insisted that her and her lady-in-waiting’s horses be kept in a stable in her residence. There was some hesitation, as the Lan doctrines forbade the keeping of animals, but Lan Wangji relented and had a stable built over the course of the afternoon.

Jin Ling wriggled his fingers within the gold casing, moving his arm and watching how the metal joint of the armor fluidly moved without much sound. The wool lining was quite comfortable, and he was grateful for the imbued talismans that kept his skin dry and cool.

Jiang Cheng crossed his arms, “How is it?”

Jin Ling nodded, “It’s good.”

Jiang Cheng had it requested for him as a part of his night-hunt attire. After the wounds had healed into a lightning-shaped scar that spread entirely up his arm, Jin Ling found that his right arm’s mobility was hampered. It was less agile and felt somewhat weak to use.

However, he found that if Zidian were to merge with Yongjiu again, his right arm could wield them much better than his left arm. Not only was it easier to hold, but the stray sparks that arced up his arm were much more tolerable.

The gold arm armor that ran from the tips of his fingers to his shoulder was specifically designed to further minimize any damage from the Zidian-Yongjiu form as well as provide Jin Ling additional armor to counter his hampered agility. Because the arm was too stiff to comfortably move in a quick enough time, Jiang Cheng suggested that it be used as a shield for him instead.

So not only did the armor make it much easier for him to handle Zidian merging with Yongjiu, it also doubled as a shield for him. With some tests, it could deflect most sword attacks and cushion any blunt force impact.

But because wearing such a thing to every night hunt would cause unwanted attention, Jin Ling had to learn how to summon it from thin air as well as make it disappear back into the spiritual storage pocket. It was slightly too high of a level of cultivation for him, but he had managed to summon it with much thought.

Of course, he couldn’t quite sit there for five minutes trying to concentrate his energy into his arm during a night hunt, so Jin Ling could only keep practicing.

Over the months, he had come to accept the state of his arm, adjusting his living habits to work around it. It wasn’t like his arm was completely useless, but he did have to relearn swordplay using his left hand instead of his right. Whenever he held his sword alongside other cultivators, it wasn’t easy to ignore how he held it with the opposite hand. He still wrote with his right hand, but his characters were often shaky.

Left-handed swordplay was much harder than he had anticipated, and even after months of training, he couldn’t stop fumbling.

He just came back to the Cloud Recesses after visiting home for a few months, for Jin Zixuan had been called back to the palace and wanted to bring Jin Ling to keep Jiang Cheng company. Jin Ling caught his father talking about palace loneliness, but didn’t think much of it.

Jiang Cheng was called for advisor duties, so Jin Ling wandered around the palace. He eventually followed a path into a bamboo forest, venturing deeper and deeper.

He looked up at the sky—a bright blue framed with dark green bamboo.

He then looked around, seeing that he was in a little clearing. There were some bamboo trees that looked to have been cut down. When Jin Ling observed closer, he concluded that they had been cut down by multiple sword slashes. This was confirmed when he looked further, seeing fallen bamboo—the person cutting it down did not need to bring the bamboo anywhere.

Meaning that this person was here to train.

Jin Ling furrowed his brows and he looked around. It was quite deep into the forest; the Cloud Recesses was a good ten or fifteen-minute walk away from where he was. It wasn’t like some random person could breach the palace territory, but most residences had their own training grounds.

The cuts varied between old and new, meaning that it was someone who returned over the course of a long while.

He felt inspired, so Jin Ling drew Yongjiu with his left hand and practiced a few basic moves. He didn’t want to draw any unwanted attention, so he took care not to cut down any of the bamboo.

He practiced his most troubling move over and over again, growing increasingly frustrated when he couldn’t quite get it down. Eventually, he got so exasperated that he stuck Yongjiu into the snowy ground and exhaled sharply, “Goddammit!”

“Young Master Jin?”

Jin Ling’s eyes widened, for he didn’t think there was anyone around to hear him. He grabbed Yongjiu out from the ground and brandished it, “Who is it?!”

It was Lan Sizhui, holding his sheathed Zhensi. When he confirmed that it was indeed Jin Ling, he relaxed and gave a cordial smile, “I’m sorry—I just heard a few noises and came to check it out to make sure it wasn’t an intruder.”

Jin Ling sighed, sheathing Yongjiu with one swoop, “What intruder could breach the wards of the Cloud Recesses?”

“I wasn’t thinking.” Lan Sizhui looked down at Yongjiu before looking back up, “Training?”

“Yeah.” Jin Ling’s shoulders slumped, “But left-handed swordplay is so much harder than right-handed swordplay, so I’m running into a few issues.”

Lan Sizhui nodded understandingly before looking around, “Jingyi and I are training in the Rimefrost Villa—you’re free to join us, Rulan.”

Jin Ling raised his eyebrows, “Isn’t that His Majesty’s residence?”

“Yes, but it’s open to family.” Lan Sizhui hummed, “Senior Wei lives in the Rimefrost Villa, and because you are technically his nephew, it should be okay.”

“Senior Wei lives… in the Rimefrost Villa?” Jin Ling incredulously spoke, “With His Majesty?”

Lan Sizhui nodded, and Jin Ling tilted his head, “Why?”

Lan Sizhui dropped his smile to ponder a bit, “I’m not quite sure, I never asked. I suppose it’s because they are quite close?”

Jin Ling blinked, and Lan Sizhui extended the offer to him once more. Jin Ling hesitated, but really, when was the next time he would be invited to the emperor’s personal residence?

Naturally, he took Lan Sizhui up on his offer. Even if it was just to train, Jin Ling was still curious as to what the Rimefrost Villa looked like.

Much to his expectation, it was clean and polished. It was a lot less decorated than he thought, thinking back on Jin Zixuan’s ornate residence in Lanling. But he figured that the infamously strict Lan doctrine probably had some rule about the limits of residential decor.

Lan Sizhui led Jin Ling to a back corner, where the sounds of grunting and general training noise grew louder. As they approached closer, Jin Ling identified the person as Lan Jingyi, who noticed them, “Sizhui, you’re back!”

Lan Jingyi sheathed his sword and bounded up, looking Jin Ling up and down, “So he was the one in the bamboo forest?”

Lan Sizhui nodded, and Jin Ling crossed his arms, “Was I that loud?”

“A bit.” Lan Jingyi looked down slightly before beaming, “Hey, I heard you got some flashy new arm piece—can I see?”

“Who told you?”

Lan Jingyi pouted slightly, crossing his arms, “I went over to Director Nie’s office earlier to ask for some supplements, and a servant mentioned something about having successfully delivered a piece of arm armor to the Lakeside Manor, and I figured it must be you!”

Lan Sizhui nudged Lan Jingyi and admonished, “You shouldn’t be so nosy, Jingyi.”

“I wasn’t being nosy on purpose!” Lan Jingyi scoffed before shifting back to Jin Ling, “So, can we see?”

Jin Ling awkwardly looked over at Lan Sizhui, who seemed to want to tell Lan Jingyi to stop bothering him about it. But he could sense that Lan Sizhui was also quite curious, and so he sighed, “Fine, just give me a second. It takes me a bit to summon it.”

Lan Jingyi’s lips parted, “You can summon it? Man, Huansheng refuses to let me summon it in any cool way!”

After a while of focusing, the gold armor materialized over Jin Ling’s sleeve, spreading from the elbow and out to his fingers and shoulder. Jin Ling did a few demonstrations of opening and closing his fist, and he couldn’t help but smile at the Lan brother’s show of admiration.

Some time passed, and Jin Ling desummoned the armor. Lan Jingyi was still in awe, leaning back, “So cool… if I ever get to design my own battle armor, I’ll have to figure out how to top that.”

He laughed as Lan Sizhui changed topics, “Hanguang-jun and Senior Wei just returned to the Cloud Recesses about an hour ago—I think they’re handling things in the Frost Palace right now. When they come back, I think Senior Wei can help you with your issues.”

Jin Ling co*cked his head to the side, “Senior Wei? But I thought he was right-handed.”

“He is, but he taught us how to use our swords.” Lan Jingyi interjected as he placed a hand on Huansheng’s black handle, “And he was once an immortal’s disciple—so he should be helpful!”

Jin Ling blinked, “‘An immortal’s disciple’?”

In the time it took for Lan Jingyi to finish his spiel about Wei Wuxian’s discipleship under Baoshan Sanren, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian arrived at the Rimefrost Villa with little announcement.

When the salutes were all done, Lan Sizhui was the first to speak up, “Senior Wei, would it be okay if Rulan joined us?”

“Jin Ling?” Wei Wuxian looked over at him, “Sure, but why? Did Jiang Cheng chase him off?”

Lan Sizhui shook his head, “After the incident at Biling Lake, he has to train with his left arm now. I brought him here, hoping that you could help guide him, Senior Wei.”

Jin Ling felt a bit embarrassed having to have Lan Sizhui explain his somewhat shameful situation to Wei Wuxian—in front of the emperor, no less.

But Wei Wuxian smiled, rivaling the afternoon sun and baring his sharp canines.

“Sure, why not?”

Chapter 30: roses budding on the stone dais

Chapter Text

It was dusk when the juniors left the Rimefrost Villa. Wei Wuxian yawned until tears bloomed in his eyes, wiping them away with the edge of his sleeve.

Lan Wangji, despite his efforts, could no longer run from the position of emperor. After scheduling for his parents’ bodies to be relocated to the Cloud Recesses’ Ancestral Hall, he was whisked away to the Frost Palace to catch up on missed work.

This left Wei Wuxian alone in the Rimefrost Villa, massaging his cramped hands and callused knuckles as he made his way back to the Quiet Room.

However, when he passed the Orchid Room, he noticed that the doors were left wide open. When he poked his head in, there was no sign of life, and the incense burner was long put out, leaving the room quite cold.

Wei Wuxian always spent his mornings and nights in the Rimefrost Villa, so seeing that Lan Xichen had left the Orchid Room was a startling sight. Wei Wuxian poked around the Rimefrost Villa, but still did not find a trace of either him or Yuxuan.

He was going to brush it off as perhaps him taking a walk or going to a department, but the situation was truly a bit too strange. Wei Wuxian couldn’t help but imagine various scenarios—all of which included Lan Xichen being in some sort of danger.

Even if his cultivation was quite strong, what if there were multiple talented opponents? Wei Wuxian began to grow nervous and decided to go out and search for him.

But as soon as he stepped foot outside of the Rimefrost Villa, he found himself to be at a bit of a loss. He had no leads, and when he asked the guards nearby, they didn’t know either. They did point him in the direction that they headed out in, but as soon as they turned the corner, there was no telling where they went.

Wei Wuxian went back inside the Quiet Room to scrawl out a note telling Lan Wangji where he was before he set off. If it got too dark, he would head back to the Rimefrost Villa.

Luckily, there weren’t many places to search. Most of the departments closed their doors around this time, meaning that if Lan Xichen did visit one of them, he should be leaving about now. Seeing that Wei Wuxian hadn’t run into him yet, he must be elsewhere.

He thought about where he would go off to at this hour. In this direction, there were only a few places—the Library Pavilion, the Ancestral Hall, the few training grounds, and the Frost Palace.

Wei Wuxian knew that most of the training grounds closed at sunset, and the few that didn’t had no trace of Lan Xichen. The Library Pavilion was also dark, with all candles snuffed out. When Wei Wuxian peered through the paper window, he saw no sign of life. Additionally, the locks that could only be opened by royal family members were still locked.

The Ancestral Hall was also empty, with only the burning incense sticks warming up the room. Wei Wuxian’s eyes caught on the intricate characters carved into the wooden tablets—painted white with gold lettering.

There was only one more place to check—the Frost Palace. The only issue was that he had only entered for the concubine interviews, and he was with Lan Wangji. He currently held no entry token or edict that gave him any reason to enter.

Even so, he cautiously approached the doors to the Frost Palace, eyeing the nearby servants and guards for any sign.

They regarded Wei Wuxian politely—perhaps they did remember his face—and made no move to stop him. If anything, they only looked at him a little strangely, perhaps questioning why he was entering the Frost Palace so late at night.

It wasn’t until Jiahao approached him warmly that the wavering gazes drifted off Wei Wuxian, “Ah, Young Master Wei, what brings you here?”

“I was looking for His Majesty Lan Xichen.” Wei Wuxian looked around, “Have you seen him? Or maybe Yuxuan?”

Jiahao’s face froze, and Wei Wuxian wondered if it was just a figment of his imagination. Before he could really think on it any further, Jiahao stumbled past his words, “Ah, Young Master Wei, ah, His Majesty Lan Xichen and His Majesty Lan Wangji are, uhm, discussing, uh… matters! Yes, matters with, uh, the palace…”

Wei Wuxian tilted his head, “Why are you stuttering?”

“Ah? Oh, it’s late…”

Wei Wuxian hesitated, but bared his canines in a wide smile and placed a hand on Jiahao’s shoulder, “Jiahao, my friend, do you think you could lead me to them? I have a few things I’d like to discuss.”

“Ah? Young Master Wei, I can certainly lead you to the waiting hall, but…”

“They’re very urgent, Jiahao!” Wei Wuxian straightened up his back, “Extremely urgent, in fact. But no need to announce me—just let me know where they are and let me go find them myself, okay?”

Jiahao seemed conflicted, “Young Master Wei, it’ll only take a few more moments…”

Seeing that Jiahao wasn’t going to budge, Wei Wuxian relented. If he forced Jiahao to let him in, Jiahao would get the brunt of the punishment should Wei Wuxian be caught.

He pursed his lips into a smile, “I see, I’ll go wait then.”

Jiahao immediately relaxed and led him to the waiting hall of the Frost Palace. Warmth flooded Wei Wuxian, sluffing off the snow that fell upon his shoulders and melting away the feeling of frostbite.

As Wei Wuxian’s fingers tingled back to warmth, Jiahao ushered him to sit down in the plush seat. Wei Wuxian looked around, seeing that there weren’t any guards inside the hall—only himself and Jiahao.

He cordially smiled as he took a seat, but as soon as Jiahao turned around, he launched a small talisman from his sleeve.

The paperman, armed with the small red insignia, latched onto Jiahao’s back. As soon as it made contact, his movements completely stopped.

Wei Wuxian cautiously approached, leaning just into Jiahao’s field of vision. He brought his palms together in an apologetic bow, “Sorry, my friend. Curiosity got the better of me—I hope you understand, hm? If anything happens, I will vouch for you!”

Jiahao only blinked, unable to emit a sound as his pupils fearfully stared straight at Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian patted him to find his entry token, and as soon as he collected it into the palm of his hand, he bounded off to explore the Frost Palace.

He was quite good at mapping out floor plans, even if he only stayed in a building for a few minutes. If he wasn’t a cultivator, he figured that he’d be a cartographer, or even an architect.

Most of the halls were empty, with only a few servants bustling about to clean and polish. Down the series of winding hallways, he still could not find a trace of either Lan.

He walked down to the very end of a hallway, seeing a familiar face standing just outside a door. Wei Wuxian approached and waved, “Ah, is that you, Yuxuan?”

Yuxuan always regarded him warmly but professionally; this time, however, he looked at Wei Wuxian and seemed quite panicked, “Ah, Young— Young Master Wei?”

“Is Zewu-jun here?” Wei Wuxian leaned to try and look through the paper window of the door, “I’ve been looking everywhere for him.”

“Why— Why is that?”

“Just had a few things to discuss with him, if that’s all ri—”

Before Wei Wuxian could finish his sentence, the door behind Yuxuan slammed open. Yuxuan softly yelped in surprise as Lan Wangji stood just behind him, staring directly at Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian flinched a bit, but recollected himself within seconds and smiled with a wave, “There you are, Zhan-er!”

“Wei Ying, why are you here?”

“I was looking for your brother. It’s been so long since he’s left the Orchid Room. How is he? Is he inside?”

Wei Wuxian tried to look behind Lan Wangji, but the latter stepped forward to block him, “He is all right. It is late. Go back and sleep.”

Wei Wuxian was about to say something before his nose caught on something, “Zhan-er, is that blood?”

Lan Wangji bristled, and Wei Wuxian’s breath hitched, “Did your wounds open up? Let me see—”

“No.”

Lan Wangji stepped backwards to evade Wei Wuxian’s reach. Wei Wuxian was about to make a remark before Lan Xichen stepped out of the room, wearing the slightest smile, “Ah, Young Master Wei.”

Wei Wuxian didn’t have the heart to smile, “Zewu-jun, it’s been so long, hasn’t it? How have you been?”

“Has it? I suppose time passes rather fast.” Lan Xichen’s ears perked, “I overheard you telling Yuxuan that you had something to talk about with me?”

Before Wei Wuxian could make an excuse, Lan Wangji dipped his head, “I will head back to the Rimefrost Villa myself.”

Wei Wuxian was going to clear things up, but Lan Wangji had already disappeared down the hall to meet up with Jiahao. Wei Wuxian sighed, figuring that Lan Wangji was smart enough to dispel the paperman on Jiahao’s back.

As Wei Wuxian silently prayed for Jiahao’s safety, Lan Xichen tilted his head, “It’s good timing. There was something I wanted to discuss with you as well.”

Wei Wuxian’s shoulders sank slightly, deciding to play along with his lie, “Was there now?”

Lan Xichen dipped his head, “I’d rather talk somewhere else, if you don’t mind.”

Lan Xichen used to not be one to keep many secrets.

He lived most of his life honest and free, adhering to his own personal ideology. Anything personal he had in mind, he usually shared with Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji was the one to keep to himself, but the same could not be said about Lan Xichen.

That was, until Jin Guangyao came along. Jin Guangyao became Lan Xichen’s secret, one that he held dear to his heart.

After Jin Guangyao entered his life and restructured everything about it, Lan Xichen kept more and more secrets. Even when he left his life, Lan Xichen continued to hold onto these secrets, only spilling them to an empty room.

He led Wei Wuxian to an outdoor courtyard in the Frost Palace—devoid of any prying ears. There was a small stream that stretched across the courtyard. A pavilion sat atop the peak of a curved bridge that overlooked the stream. Floating lights danced in the air, giving the courtyard an ethereal look.

Wei Wuxian looked around in awe as Lan Xichen ascended the bridge and sat down on a wooden bench in the pavilion. He gestured for Wei Wuxian to sit.

Wei Wuxian found a spacious spot to sit down, fidgeting with his fingers, “So… what was it that you wanted to say to me?”

Lan Xichen smiled, “Truthfully, I did not have anything to discuss with you until you showed up earlier, so forgive me if my thoughts are not quite set straight.”

Wei Wuxian dipped his head, “It’s no trouble.”

“Young Master Wei,” Lan Xichen started, “how do you think of Wangji?”

“Ah?” Wei Wuxian’s ears perked, and he hummed with thought for a while, “Zhan-er is… honestly a little bit a fuddy-duddy, and he doesn’t tell me a lot about himself, but he’s quite strong and trustworthy.”

“Wangji is very secretive, yes.” Lan Xichen fondly smiled, thinking of all of the years he had spent interacting with his little brother, “If he won’t tell you, I’m afraid that he would take all of his secrets to his grave.”

Wei Wuxian tilted his head inquisitively, “What do you mean?”

“What all did he tell you about the thirteen years you were dead?”

Wei Wuxian’s lips parted as he hesitated. Slowly, he talked about the political restructuring and of Jin Guangyao’s death. Afterwards, he followed up with what Jiang Cheng had told him about Lan Wangji’s coma and Wei Wuxian’s body.

Lan Xichen swallowed nothing when he heard Jin Guangyao’s name, stiffening before he nodded, “It’s as I thought. Young Master Wei, didn’t you think that it was strange that he spoke next to nothing about himself?”

Wei Wuxian paused before shaking his head, “I… I never thought about it.”

Lan Xichen nodded once more, “He is like that. It’s not strange to you, but in fact, his situation was much more interesting than anything else.”

“How so?”

Lan Xichen lowered his eyelids, “When he woke up from the coma, it was like he was a completely different person.”

He closed his eyes as he recalled the painful details. Finding Lan Wangji clutching Chenqing and reeking of alcohol. Tearing at his wounds and bandages, remorseful of something that Lan Xichen couldn’t understand through Lan Wangji’s broken-up words. Breaking objects in his drunken throes.

But the worst was that whenever Lan Wangji sobered up, no matter what, he would kneel at the discipline dais in the Frost Palace and request a punishment.

A hundred lashes for the consumption of alcohol, another hundred lashes for the destruction of property. Fifty lashes for disturbances, and whatever other charges Lan Wangji pitted against himself. The punishment never went under fifty lashes per violation.

Because no one dared to injure the Imperial Brother, Lan Xichen was the one to wield the whip. When Lan Wangji became Acting Emperor and Lan Xichen secluded himself in the Frost-Laden Manor, he was told that Lan Wangji learned to whip himself using his spiritual energy.

Day after day, infraction after infraction. For thirteen years, Lan Xichen urged Lan Wangji to enforce a lighter punishment, or to at least stop drinking and stop being unreasonable.

But Lan Wangji would always tell him that he was stuck at a fork in the road. He still had dignity, and would not agree to a lighter punishment. But he also had a heart, and thus could not stop breaking rules.

Lan Xichen became very familiar with how the discipline whip felt in his hands, remembering how the whip would resist upon contact, how the discipline dais would always be covered in an alarming amount of blood.

And then Wen Qing would whisk him away to a side room to treat and bandage the bleeding wounds. She would always admonish him, for oftentimes, the wounds underneath the new ones still had not healed.

Lan Xichen watched as his back became more red than skin-toned. Wounds layered atop wounds, the skin had begun to curl at the cuts and flake off. Where there weren’t cuts, there was usually bruising, or some old wound opened up and bled. The bandages had to be constantly refreshed, and the packed gauze had to be removed.

Whenever Lan Wangji submitted himself for punishment, he would always tear off the old bandages. It would rip the old wounds open, but he could care less. It seemed that to him, the more blood on his back, the better.

Lan Xichen once could not stand it, and yelled that punishments meant nothing if Lan Wangji did not repent properly and stop violating the rules. But Lan Wangji barked back that the punishments he sentenced himself to were his repentance. It was only in this way that he could ground himself to the reality that Wei Wuxian was dead.

He truly was so unreasonable.

But Lan Wangji, time and time again, would always ask Lan Xichen to wield the whip against him. Sometimes it was three hundred lashes, other times it was only two hundred. There was a period where it was only one hundred and fifty lashes per session, and even though the dais was completely stained in blood, Lan Xichen felt that one hundred and fifty lashes was much better.

Naturally, Lan Wangji did not feel the same, and it was back to three hundred lashes.

One particular night was bad, and although Lan Wangji did not reveal any details, he requested four hundred lashes. It took many hours for Lan Xichen to deliver all four hundred lashes, and when he had, he swore that he could see bone.

But Lan Wangji never cried. He only knelt there, fists clenched ungodly tightly, and head bowed as if he were truly repenting. Lan Xichen knew that he would continue to drink, continue to stay stuck in the past, and so it didn’t matter if he bent his head or held it high.

Lan Wangji always, without fail, stalwartly knelt there and bore the brunt of his flesh being ripped from his back. Every time, when it was done, he would calmly rise and meet Wen Qing to bandage up his wounds. He never spoke a word, and Lan Xichen never pressed him.

It became somewhat of a routine. Eventually, a sound-proofing ward was cast over the discipline dais, mostly to block the sounds of the whip. The stone dais, once light gray, was now a faded maroon. The etched carvings of it were stained darker, as that was where the blood often pooled to and caked up.

Recalling these details was strangely cathartic.

When he opened his eyes, Wei Wuxian’s face was unreadable. It held the emotions of a person who was equally horrified and incredulous, as if he was hearing a fantastically impossible story.

When the air rang in silence, Wei Wuxian was the first to whisper, “Zhan-er… that was… that’s how his back turned out like that?”

Lan Xichen dipped his head, “If he were an ordinary person, he would’ve died of blood loss on the first day, if not from physical trauma. But because he is an extraordinary cultivator, he can heal up much faster and withstand such punishment.”

“So— the blood I smelled earlier…”

Lan Xichen’s eyes wavered before he gave a firm nod, “Two hundred and fifty lashes.”

Wei Wuxian bristled, “What for?!”

“One hundred for the consumption of alcohol,” Lan Xichen looked off to the side, “and then one hundred and fifty for indecent behavior.”

“Indecent behavior” was really a code word for “I don’t want to talk about it” in Lan Wangji’s language, and Lan Xichen had grown to not press about it. But looking at Wei Wuxian’s face, he figured that the indecent behavior pertained to him.

Lan Xichen wanted to ask, but held the question in his throat and swallowed it down. It seemed that not even Wei Wuxian wanted to talk about it.

Wei Wuxian shook his head, “That stupid…”

Lan Xichen cleared his throat, “Hearing all that I have to say—Young Master Wei, I’d like to ask you again: what do you think of Wangji?”

Wei Wuxian looked to be at a loss for words, perhaps still processing everything.

When Lan Xichen saw that he was still unable to say anything, he looked out over the pavilion railing and to the stream below, “Young Master Wei, look into the water.”

Wei Wuxian, perhaps still frazzled, took a while to look down, “Lotuses?”

Lan Xichen nodded, “Wangji planted them himself. Even while his back dripped with blood, he would pull up his robes and wade into the water, just to plant them by hand.”

Wei Wuxian lowered his eyes, “Zhan-er did? I remember Jin Zixuan did the same for my shi-jie—”

He abruptly stopped mid-sentence, and Lan Xichen turned away to look back at Wei Wuxian, “Do you understand now, why Lan Wangji did what he did?”

Wei Wuxian looked at Lan Xichen, having pieced the pieces together but denying the result, “He… But I thought…”

Lan Xichen sighed, “He would never admit anything on his own, but perhaps it was presumptuous of me to tell you.”

True to his original nature, Lan Xichen was not one to keep secrets.

Sun Fenghua entered the Inner Palace not too long later, and Wen Qing was sent by Wei Wuxian to examine her condition.

“It looks like there’s something hampering the output of spiritual energy directly from your golden core.” Wen Qing closed her eyes as she withdrew her hand, “I can give you a few supplements to boost your spiritual energy, but that’s about all.”

Sun Fenghua dipped her head, “Thank you anyway, Physician Wen.”

As Wen Qing left her residence, Ouyang Zizhen chirped up, “Master, are there any more appointments today?”

Wen Qing cast him a side glance, “Are you thinking of running off again?”

Ouyang Zizhen slumped, “I refreshed all of the herb supplies with fresh ones, and ground all of the poultices you requested, and boiled the tonics needed for today, and shaped all of the pills you asked me to shape today.”

Just as Wen Qing opened her mouth, Ouyang Zizhen straightened his back, “And— And I’ve refreshed the water, and chopped down more firewood, and swept the entire Ink Rain House, and scrubbed the stains on the floorboards, and checked over the storehouse inventory—twice!”

Before Wen Qing could say anything, Ouyang Zizhen diligently continued again, “I’ve also steamed all of your and Senior Wen’s robes, and delivered all of the mail and packages you asked me to deliver, and dusted the rooms, and refreshed the talismans, and polished the medical equipment boxes—”

“Ouyang Zizhen.”

Wen Qing interrupted him, and Ouyang Zizhen bit back a yelp. If he weren’t currently holding Wen Qing’s medical box, he would be covering his mouth with both hands to shut himself up. Instead, he opted to purse his lips tightly.

Wen Qing sighed as they reached the doors of the Ink Rain House, “Go play. You’re free today.”

Ouyang Zizhen raised his eyebrows slightly, “A— Ah?”

Wen Qing squinted, her face growing more sour, “Do you want me to take it back?”

“No Master!” Ouyang Zizhen jumped as he entered the Ink Rain House, immediately dropping the medical box off at its designated place. He grabbed his sword from the nearby sword stand, and with a bright grin, he disappeared past the open doors.

Wen Qing sighed and shook her head as Wen Ning approached, “Jie, you’re back.”

Wen Qing spun to look at him, “A-Ning, how are you today? Feeling okay?”

Wen Ning enthusiastically nodded with a smile before looking behind Wen Qing, “Did Young Master Ouyang run off?”

She nodded, “He finished all of his duties for the day, so I let him have a free day.”

Wen Ning softly smiled, “That’s good, that’s good.”

Wen Qing brushed some dust off Wen Ning’s face, “Did you finish boiling His Majesty’s tonic?”

Wen Ning vigorously nodded once more, “It’s all in the self-warming pot. I got the ingredients needed for the second batch for this evening.”

Wen Qing nodded in approval, and Wen Ning smiled toothily.

Wen Qing patted the side of Wen Ning’s head, but thought of Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen—the older brother forced to punish his younger brother so cruelly, day after day.

She thought that Wei Wuxian’s revival signified the start of Lan Wangji’s healing, where the punishments would lessen. But she saw no slowing down of her calls to the Frost Palace, and the wounds on Lan Wangji’s back only grew in volume and severity.

She had scolded the acting emperor many times for allowing such things to happen, telling him that medical supplies at the Cloud Recesses were not unlimited. To waste her gauze every time he felt the need to punish himself, it was really annoying!

She remembered one conversation she had with Lan Xichen many years ago, when Lan Wangji had fallen asleep in the Quiet Room after a painful lashing. His bed lay on the opposite side of Wei Wuxian. Wen Qing had taken a peek at Wei Wuxian, who was still a corpse on this day.

Older sibling to another older sibling, Wen Qing asked Lan Xichen how he could bear seeing Lan Wangji devolve himself into a bloody state, where no amount of gauze layering or hemostatic talismans could hold in the profuse bleeding of his back.

Lan Xichen’s face was quite grim, for seeing his younger brother in this state was nothing happy or exciting.

He looked up at Wen Qing, and solemnly told her:

“If I were to refuse him his punishments, he would only find something more dangerous—as his older brother, I must be the one to dole it out, as it is his safest outlet.”

Chapter 31: freshly-baked tearful harmonies

Chapter Text

Rong Liwen entered the Inner Palace not long after Sun Fenghua. He Guiying and Fu Cuifen entered the day after at the same time—a funny coincidence that they both acknowledged with bright smiles.

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji drafted up a plan to search for the Molten Blade of the Sun, said to be in Qishan according to Lan Wangji’s mother. He couldn’t help but notice how the acting emperor’s face morphed solemnly whenever his parents were brought up—but Wei Wuxian didn’t know how to approach it.

Thus, he found himself in a meeting room with the five concubines. Due to the absence of an empress, Lan Wangji allowed Wei Wuxian to manage the affairs of the Inner Palace.

Because of what Lan Xichen told him, Wei Wuxian was rather hesitant in taking the position. But, seeing that he was hardly in a position to argue against him, he took up the position. He could never shake off the silly nickname that Jiang Cheng gave him when Wei Wuxian shared his new palace position.

“He keeps calling me ‘Acting Empress’!” Wei Wuxian exasperatedly voiced to the five concubines in the room, leaning forward in his seat, “Saying things like ‘if there’s an Acting Emperor, then it’s only fit that there’s an Acting Empress, right?’!”

Fu Cuifen was the most excitable of the five, brightening as she giggled, “Do you dislike the position, Young Master Wei?”

“Maybe we should start calling him ‘Empress’.” Li Jianping grinned after sipping her tea, “‘Empress Wei’ certainly has a unique ring to it.”

Wei Wuxian felt his face heat up as he waved his hands, “Ahh, don’t call me that! I’m only here to fill the seat—once His Majesty finds himself an empress, I’ll gladly hand over that duty to her.”

He expected the conversation to move on from the embarrassing topic. However, the five concubines looked at each other curiously. Wei Wuxian straightened his back, “... what is it?”

Rong Liwen spoke up, “Young Master Wei, aren’t you and His Majesty…?”

Wei Wuxian blinked, “Does this mean that you all…?”

Li Jianping interjected, “Isn’t it a bit too obvious? His Majesty’s interest does not lie in any of us, but in you!”

Wei Wuxian bristled, “Concubine Li, haven’t you accepted this a little too well?!”

He Guiying softly answered, “Young Master Wei, we all had the same thought when we met with you and His Majesty.”

Sun Fenghua’s shoulders rose as she closed her eyes with a smile, “None of us expected much from our marriage into the Cloud Recesses—after all, we were offered only as political tools. His Majesty is certainly very talented and attractive, but we don’t love him as he should be loved.”

Wei Wuxian’s gaze jumped from concubine to concubine, “All of you… think this way?”

Five heads nodded, and Wei Wuxian leaned back. Suddenly, he felt that the seat he sat in, which was normally reserved for the empress as it was at the head of the room, felt quite tingly.

Fu Cuifen leaned in, “Young Master Wei, we’re more than happy to help you two out.”

Shivers ran up Wei Wuxian’s spine, “Wh— What do you mean?”

Li Jianping chimed in, “Set you two up, naturally! A happy emperor means a happy dynasty.”

Sun Fenghua sighed, “At first, I was worried that I’d have to fight with my sisters over the emperor’s affection just so he could help my family, but it seems that I wouldn’t have to.”

Wei Wuxian was grateful for the topic change, “What do you mean, Concubine Sun?”

Sun Fenghua chuckled softly, “I mean that as long as I get along with you, and help your relationship with His Majesty, my job is much easier!”

Wei Wuxian bristled once more, “What relationship? He— I— We’re both men!”

He Guiying chimed, “His Majesty seems so kind and determined—any backlash from the public wouldn’t matter.”

Fu Cuifen leaned forward, “Is there a reason you dislike the affection, Young Master Wei?”

Still dizzy from the startling reveal that Lan Wangji’s concubines did not mind receiving no affection from the emperor, Wei Wuxian hardly had any time to process Fu Cuifen’s question. He only sputtered, “Well— I mean—”

He couldn’t form words that didn’t outrightly make a slight against the acting emperor, as that was treasonous behavior, but the five concubines took this as him being flustered over Lan Wangji’s hidden affection towards him.

Li Jianping laughed as she turned to the other four, “Let’s not overwhelm Her Majesty.”

At that, Wei Wuxian jolted upwards from his trance, “Hey— Concubine Li!”

“Ahh, Empress Wei!” Li Jianping joked with vigor, “Since you’re new to this, shall we impart the lessons we’ve learned about concubinage to you? There’s much to learn, such as managing the Inner Palace, the concubine hierarchy, and servicing His Majesty—”

“Doing what with His Majesty?!!”

Lan Wangji, burdened with all of the duties of an emperor, was often not at the Rimefrost Villa.

So, most of Wei Wuxian’s days were spent managing the affairs of the Inner Palace, visiting the Lakeside Manor, and training juniors in the Rimefrost Villa.

He never overlooked how the Orchid Room was empty now more than before, but Wei Wuxian hardly had the time to think about where Lan Xichen was. As long as Lan Wangji was kept busy, Wei Wuxian supposed that no further punishment was being inflicted.

He gradually began to notice that the fourth junior to frequent the Rimefrost Villa was beginning to become a regular now. Ouyang Zizhen was not only practicing medicine, but also swordplay. If anything, he was quite good at it too.

He had no strange quirk with his sword or bodily health—he simply wanted to hang out with his newfound palace friends.

Wei Wuxian couldn’t help but smile. The two sons of the acting emperor, the son of a sect leader, and the son of a physician. It was certainly a formidable team.

Jin Ling was progressing well with his sudden shift to left-handed swordplay—if anything, he was much better than he thought. He always deflected Wei Wuxian’s praises, saying that he only praised him because he was his nephew, but Wei Wuxian knew that he secretly enjoyed the positive feedback.

Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi had long progressed in their relationship with their swords. Lan Sizhui found that channeling a thin flow of spiritual energy now felt more natural to him than anything else. Lan Jingyi commented that he was communicating much faster with Huansheng.

Ouyang Zizhen sought to increase his sword skills and martial arts in general, with no particular focus or leaning. And with his recent addition to the crew, Wei Wuxian had no way of seeing his progress—he could only see that he was bound to make great strides with his cultivation as long as he kept up.

“Senior Wei,” Jin Ling piped up, wiping sweat off his forehead, “I have a question.”

Wei Wuxian crossed his arms curiously, “Shoot.”

“The Yiling Patriarch, that’s you, right?”

Time froze for a moment, and the air of the Rimefrost Villa grew silent.

Jin Ling continued with caution, “You’re also known as the grandmaster of demonic cultivation, right?”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes wavered before he awkwardly scratched the back of his head, “Aiya, those titles are still floating around? I only made a few trinkets here and there to get money and make do.”

Seeing that the juniors froze, Wei Wuxian tried to lighten up the thick air with laughter, “Hey, don’t worry—I’ve stopped long ago.”

Lan Sizhui dipped his head, “Senior Wei, does Hanguang-jun know?”

Wei Wuxian parted his lips to answer with something basic, but thinking on it, the answer was actually more complicated.

On their first meeting, Wei Wuxian had referred to himself as the Yiling Patriarch, and it would be to no one’s surprise if Lan Wangji remembered this little tidbit of information. However, whether he knew the severity of the title—and the implications of tying the name of the emperor to such a rogue entity—was up for debate.

So Wei Wuxian fashioned some other answer, “Sizhui, do you really think someone like him wouldn’t just be able to tell?”

Lan Jingyi crossed his arms, “If he knew, why would he get involved with the likes of you?”

Wei Wuxian smiled, “He had no choice!”

Jin Ling turned his head quickly to the side, “Shameless.”

“Eh? Aren’t you Shi-jie’s kid? How come you sound just like Zhan-er?”

Jin Ling pinched his brow, “Why do you always call His Majesty that?”

Wei Wuxian straightened up his back, “Why not? I was the one who got him to where he is now—shouldn’t I be able to call him whatever I want?”

He half-expected them to ask him to elaborate, and he began to formulate the structure of the story he was going to tell, starting from when Baoshan Sanren implanted the Scroll of Guanyin into his body. He was going to rival storytellers with how epic it was going to sound!

But he remembered that it was near treasonous to pry into the emperor’s personal affairs—especially if it pertained to his life prior to being royalty. This was confirmed when the juniors only awkwardly stood there, still heaving breaths from training.

After some time, Wei Wuxian huffed, “All right, stop meddling with adult affairs—back to training!”

Groans filled the air of the training ground.

Jin Zixuan often wondered if Jin Ling would take after his father or mother.

Looking at the lightning-shaped scar that ran up his right arm and seeped down his ribcage and neck behind his robes, it seemed that he took after his maternal grandmother.

At the very least, her Meishan Yu Sect.

Luo Qingyang entered the visitors’ hall with a fresh set of oolong tea, head bowed low. Jin Zixuan smiled, “Thank you, Mianmian.”

She lifted her head with a demure smile, “Is there anything else, Sect Leader Jin, Sect Leader Yu?”

Yu Qiuyue, Jin Ling’s grandmother, was dressed in regal navy blues with hints of red. It was a stark contrast from Yu Ziyuan, who had worn the typical Jiang purple and white hues. Jin Zixuan never visited the Meishan Yu Sect, and so had wrongly assumed that they also sported a similar palette.

Thinking about it now, and of what Jiang Yanli told him of her mother, Jin Zixuan supposed that it was only reasonable for Yu Ziyuan to adopt the Jiang colors, having found no other way to show her commitment since her abrasiveness dashed it away.

Yu Qiuyue crossed her legs, “Nothing. Thank you.”

When Luo Qingyang left the visitors’ hall, Yu Qiuyue’s demure smile quickly dissipated as she turned to face Jin Ling, “The monster at Biling Lake was one of Xue Chonghai’s monsters?”

Jin Ling rattled off what Jin Zixuan relayed to him prior, “His Majesty believes that it was the Abyss Borne of Water.”

Yu Qiuyue’s gaze drifted down, “After so many years of dormancy, why…”

In the palpable silence, Jin Zixuan added, “The troops deployed to the Yiling Burial Mounds found the rotting corpse of the True Warrior of Slaughter. With these two beasts exterminated, there leaves only two more whose locations are unknown.”

Yu Qiuyue nodded solemnly, understanding Jin Zixuan’s hidden question, “The western cities don’t have any particularly strange occurrences—only the usual tremors in Qishan from magma flow.”

“Do you think that it would be safe to investigate those tremors?” Jin Zixuan lowered his eyelids, “After all, Biling Lake was completely peaceful up until the disappearances. Before any casualties occur, it may be reasonable to look towards Qishan.”

Yu Qiuyue smiled, “My oldest daughter and granddaughter are in the Cloud Recesses—I planned to visit them after this. I can relay this to His Majesty.”

Jin Zixuan saluted, “Forgive me for the trouble.”

Yu Qiuyue’s line of sight moved to Jin Ling, and the smile stayed painted onto her face, “How has your training fared?”

Jin Ling pursed his lips, “Quite well.”

“Left-handed swordplay is nothing easy to pick up. I don’t recall Lanling having any such masters or instructors.”

Jin Ling seemed rather awkward, “His… His Majesty helped me while I was at the Cloud Recesses.”

“Is that so?” Yu Qiuyue mused, “Then I shall take you to the Cloud Recesses with me.”

Jin Zixuan perked up, “Sect Leader Yu, A-Ling just arrived. A-Li missed him very much.”

“Then I shall take Yanli as well. It has been a while since she has seen Wanyin, am I correct?”

When Jin Zixuan said nothing, Yu Qiuyue sighed, “You spend too little time in the palace because Lanling is in desperate need of a head disciple worthy enough to manage the in-person affairs. When you are like Wanyin, able to work remotely from the palace, you will grow to realize how lonely it is, and how cherished your family is.”

Without waiting for an answer, she ushered Jin Ling out, urging him to grab his mother and pack up their belongings to wait for her at the gates of Jinlintai.

Jin Zixuan wanted to protest, but the words didn’t quite fit into his mouth. Yu Qiuyue then smiled, “Unless you are providing me with a second great-grandchild, then I see no reason for Yanli to visit the Cloud Recesses.”

Jin Zixuan's face bloomed red, “Sect Leader Yu!”

Yu Qiuyue chuckled softly, “Sect Leader Jin, you are two generations below me; do you know why?”

Jin Zixuan faltered at the redirect and cautiously answered, “Why?”

“Every former sect leader that I grew up with died in war.” Yu Qiuyue looked up at the decorations strewn about the visitors’ hall, “These candles and banners were handcrafted by your grandfather. It’s good that they look so new after all these years.”

“The original decorations were replaced by my father after a fire.”

“Is that so?” The corner of Yu Qiuyue’s lips perked upwards, “I was wondering why there were some changes. I figured that my memory must’ve been lacking.”

She sighed, continuing with her original thought process, “Sect Leader Jin, your grandfather and I were very close. It’s a shame that Meishan and Lanling were so far apart.”

Jin Zixuan did not wish to assume, and so kept quiet.

Yu Qiuyue lowered her head back to eye level, “I lived because I was a coward. Every other sect leader, even the likes of Wen Ruohan, was better than me in that aspect.”

Without moving her head, her eyes flickered towards Jin Zixuan’s direction, giving off the impression of a stone-hearted glare. However, upon closer inspection, there was a film of melancholy draped over her gaze that dampened the fire.

Jin Zixuan understood her well. From war veteran to war veteran, there was the shared experience of vivid nightmares and unwanted memories. No matter how far apart they were in age, war was the immortal being that loomed over them.

When Yu Qiuyue walked past him to leave, Jin Zixuan could smell the faint scent of lavender.

After the Fleeting Reverie incense was banned from the Cloud Recesses, Lan Wangji began to realize how difficult it was to bear the consequences of withdrawal.

He was sluggish most of the days, having to force himself to do much of anything. It was difficult to sleep at night, and no amount of starvation would make him feel hungry. It seemed that any slight movement would irritate him to no end, and entering a room gave him the sense that he was being watched.

So he often found himself at the Ancestral Hall, plucking away at the notes of “Inquiry”. His parents’ answers were stiff—the nature of the guqin strings—and winter had made the hall cold even in the presence of all of the candles and heating elements.

Even so, even as the wind nipped at his cheeks and nose, he continued to play with his reddened fingers. Asking them if they were any happier, if the spiritual realm was kind to them, if they found peace with the new Lan Dynasty being erected.

In return, Lan Wangji told them how he and his brother had changed, the good and the bad. He told them about the fall of the short-lived Jin Dynasty. He told them about Jin Guangyao’s death and Wei Wuxian’s entire first life, about Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi’s upbringing, about Zhensi and Huansheng.

His mother had very little to say, and his father’s answers were always tinged with a heavy feeling. Even so, Lan Wangji came to the Ancestral Hall anytime he had the chance, just to take out his guqin and pluck the notes of “Inquiry” and listen to what the spirits had to say.

Today, the wounds on his back had reopened, and it took quite a while of bandaging for the bleeding to cease. As he talked to his father, who decided to answer today, he could feel the blood trickling down the layers and layers of bandages.

”This Wei Wuxian,” his father, Lan Muchen, had slowly plucked the strings, ”what is your relationship with him?”

”I’m not sure.”

If spirits could laugh, perhaps Lan Muchen would, ”You’re not sure? You bowed thrice to us together.”

Before Lan Wangji could respond, Lan Muchen quickly added, ”Do you love him?”

Lan Wangji faltered, finding the response from the previous question in his head invalid. His fingers hovered over the strings, searching for an answer he liked.

“Zhan-er!”

Lan Wangji reeled around, watching Wei Wuxian bound into the Ancestral Hall, “Wei Ying?”

“I was told you’d be here.” His gaze drifted towards the guqin, “Ah, ‘Inquiry’? I thought I heard some scattered notes.”

Lan Wangji nodded once, and Wei Wuxian pulled over a mat to sit down next to him, “Who is it?”

“Father.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes widened as he smiled, “I see, I see, that’s perfect. Could I bother you to ask him one question?”

Lan Wangji nodded, and Wei Wuxian clasped his hands together, as if in a plea, “What do I do if Zhensi is being super temperamental?”

Lan Wangji blinked, “Temperamental how?”

“It’s refusing to take Sizhui’s spiritual energy.” Wei Wuxian sighed, “I did some rudimentary checks—his golden core and meridians are fine, and his flow of spiritual energy is fine as well. Zhensi just won’t take it, so all of his sword slashes are empty.”

Lan Wangji lowered his eyelids and asked. After a moment of silence, Lan Muchen responded, ”Bring both swords and both grandsons here.”

When Lan Wangji translated it, Wei Wuxian grinned toothily, “‘Grandsons’ ah? Your father doesn’t mind that they’re adopted?”

Lan Wangji shook his head, “They both uphold the Lan doctrine and are filial.”

“‘Uphold’ should be used loosely—Jingyi reminds me more of myself when I was younger.” Wei Wuxian stood up with a sigh, “I’ll get them! Give me half an hour—I’m not used to running.”

In a flash, Wei Wuxian left the Ancestral Hall. A few plucks sounded from the guqin as Lan Muchen remarked, ”Quite lively. I cannot hear, but I can see that he is very different from you.”

”Is there an issue with the swords?”

”Not sure.”

It did indeed take only a half hour for Wei Wuxian to return with Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi in tow. While he was full of grins, the younger Lans looked to be quite tired.

Lan Jingyi huffed, “Senior Wei, was it really necessary to pick us up for the entire trip?!”

“I put you down before your Hanguang-jun saw you, did I?” Wei Wuxian massaged his arms, “Aiya, both of you are so heavy…”

“Who did you just call heavy?!”

Lan Sizhui raised his hands, “Jingyi, this is the Ancestral Hall, let’s be respectful.”

At that, Lan Jingyi hmphed and turned to greet Lan Wangji alongside Lan Sizhui. Lan Sizhui held out Zhensi, sheathed and gleaming in the dim candlelight, “Here’s Zhensi, Hanguang-jun.”

Lan Wangji did not take the sword, instead turning to pluck a few notes, ”They are here. What now?”

It took noticeably longer for Lan Muchen to respond, ”Have them hold their swords with both hands and kneel in front of our tablets.”

Lan Wangji relayed this to them as he stood up with the guqin in hand. He felt the spirit of his father leave “Inquiry” as the younger Lans did as told.

A few moments passed, and Lan Wangji felt a strong inclination to begin “Inquiry”. He plucked the first few notes and then a calling message.

The spirit that answered was Lan Muchen, all to say, “We have bound the sword spirits to your children.”

Before Lan Wangji could pluck a reply, his guqin lightened as Lan Muchen left. He decided not to chase it, packing up his guqin as he asked, “Do you feel any changes?”

Lan Sizhui looked up from his sword, having finished inspecting it closer, “I believe Zhensi got a bit lighter.”

“Their sword spirits are now bound to the both of you.” Lan Wangji parroted Lan Muchen’s explanation, “The issue should be solved.”

Lan Jingyi exhaled sharply, “If only it meant that Huansheng would actually let me use it the way I’ve used swords my entire life until now…”

Lan Sizhui put Zhensi down on the ground right next to the mat and bowed three times without any further delay. After the first bow, Jingyi jumped and did the same.

When all was said and done, the four left the Ancestral Hall. Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi turned to face Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, saluting as Lan Sizhui spoke, “The last lecture of the day is coming up, so we shall be taking our leaves first.”

Lan Wangji nodded as Wei Wuxian waved, watching as the two figures clad in whites and light blues became specks in the late afternoon horizon.

It was only when they finally disappeared that Wei Wuxian lowered his arm, “Zhan-er.”

“Mn?”

“You…”

He trailed off, perhaps regretting the statement he was going to say. It seemed that he redirected it instead, “I smell blood on you.”

Lan Wangji lowered his eyelids, ‘The wounds have reopened. I am visiting the Ink Rain House to have Wen Qing rebandage them.”

“Ah? That’s too far away.” Wei Wuxian sighed, “Let’s head back to the Rimefrost Villa. I’ll rebandage.”

Lan Wangji did not protest.

Chapter 32: the fair and foul of the past

Chapter Text

As much as Wei Wuxian wanted to trust Lan Xichen and the five concubines, he just couldn’t believe that Lan Wangji had any real feelings for him.

The lotuses could simply just be Lan Wangji preserving Jin Zixuan’s act of love, since his Vibrant House had been renovated and the lotuses taken out. Either that, or perhaps Lan Wangji indeed had a heart, and wanted the Jiangs to feel welcome should they visit the Frost Palace.

As for his empress-esque duties, he still believed that with the installment of concubines, someone had to manage the Inner Palace. All of the women in the Cloud Recesses either had their own duties to attend to or were not at a high enough level to take the position.

Because Wei Wuxian was freed of any office, and he was Lan Wangji’s closest confidant beyond Lan Xichen, it would only be natural to have him carry out the duties in the absence of an empress.

As he bandaged up Lan Wangji’s bleeding back after applying a few charms, he asked, “Are all punishments this harsh? I’m afraid you’ll scare away the entirety of the Cloud Recesses if you get fifty lashes just for zoning out.”

Lan Wangji shook his head, “First-time offenses are not punishable via lashing.”

Wei Wuxian co*cked his head to the side, “Really?”

“The first punishment is copying the Lan doctrines.” Lan Wangji rattled over monotonously, “Afterwards, it is kneeling. Whipping is the last resort.”

Wei Wuxian bit the inside of his cheek, suddenly remembering that this routine of his had been going on for thirteen years. Instead, he sighed, “All done. Move around so I can see if it’s loose anywhere.”

Once it was confirmed that the bandages were a snug fit and the bleeding had stopped, Lan Wangji was quick to redress himself. Wei Wuxian leaned against a nearby pole, looking away as he spoke, “The smaller, older scars all over your body match the damage on that suit of armor back there.”

When Wei Wuxian looked over at Lan Wangji, he saw that he was fully dressed but did not turn to look at Wei Wuxian. He stood there frozen, one arm bent behind his back and the other folded in the front.

“Is it difficult to think about?” Wei Wuxian prodded.

It was slight, so slight that Wei Wuxian nearly missed it, but Lan Wangji nodded silently. His head dipped down as he turned to face Wei Wuxian.

“No portraits of you have been approved, and you keep your armor in the very back corner with little upkeep.” Wei Wuxian took a deep breath, “Zhan-er, do you regret it?”

“No.” Lan Wangji immediately answered, startling Wei Wuxian.

Lan Wangji approached, stopping at a comfortable distance away from Wei Wuxian. At this proximity, Wei Wuxian could see the fine lines of scars littering his neck and face. It should be a crime how handsome he still was, even with his face marred.

“So you find the scars ugly?”

Lan Wangji lowered his eyelids, and Wei Wuxian softly chuckled, “Look at my face—my scars are much worse than yours! So we’re in the same boat, aren’t we?”

“You’re still handsome.”

Wei Wuxian perked up, “Look at you Zhan-er, you finally gave a compliment?!”

Lan Wangji huffed and turned away as if to leave, but Wei Wuxian quickly grabbed his wrist, “Aiya, don’t be like that. It’s just a lighthearted joke, okay?”

Lan Wangji didn’t make any move to break free from Wei Wuxian’s grasp. Seeing that the topic was perhaps a bit uncomfortable for Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian chose another topic, “Your concubines have started teaching me how to paint.”

Lan Wangji turned his head to look at Wei Wuxian from the side, so the latter continued, “They said I’m quite the natural. What do you think, Zhan-er?”

He said nothing for a moment before cautiously answering, “I trust their judgment.”

Wei Wuxian began to feel like talking about concubinage felt a bit forward, even if the association was distant at best. He let go of Lan Wangji’s wrist, “How is the search for the Molten Blade of the Sun?”

Lan Wangji fully turned around, “Tremors in the western cities have been reported to be moving southeast starting from Qishan.”

“Tremors in the west? How come I’ve never heard of this?”

“It was previously believed to be typical magma flow tremors in Qishan. However, the Meishan Yu Sect did some investigating after the Abyss Borne of Water and True Warrior of Slaughter were found to have reappeared—and they found that the tremors seem to slowly be moving southeast.”

Southeast of Qishan was Yiling—further was Yunmeng.

“Where are they now?”

“Still in Qishan.”

Wei Wuxian grit his teeth, “We should go immediately. Who knows what will happen if the Molten Blade of the Sun surfaces? Is Zewu-jun ready to sit back on the throne?”

At the sound of the last statement, Lan Wangji faltered. Seeing that he wasn’t going to say anything, Wei Wuxian knit his brow, “Is he not?”

Slowly, Lan Wangji pulled a golden scroll out from his sleeves, “This is the edict set to be announced tomorrow morning.”

Wei Wuxian looked down at it, seeing that it eerily resembled the Scroll of Guanyin, just without the glowing aspect. He looked back up at Lan Wangji, “For what?”

Lan Wangji’s grip around the scroll tightened, and for the first time in a while, Wei Wuxian saw how he looked while immensely frustrated.

“My brother has officially abdicated the throne. As he has no heir, I am to be emperor.”

The news of Lan Xichen’s abdication and Lan Wangji’s promotion to actual Emperor of China came as no shock to anyone, as hardly anything changed except for the names of the emperor and his imperial brother.

Wei Wuxian had adapted quickly to taking on the duties of the Inner Palace. Because the concubines were under his jurisdiction, all department officials and visitors had to send their parcels, messages, gifts, and people to him first.

The Inner Palace had its own residence for the empress called the Gentian House. While Wei Wuxian still slept and ate at the Rimefrost Villa, he would report to the Gentian House regularly to check up on the Inner Palace affairs.

So Wei Wuxian’s rotation of locations had grown, and Lan Wangji saw him less and less.

“You didn’t need to.” Lan Xichen’s voice pierced through the daze, and Lan Wangji looked up at him.

In a delirious daze of withdrawal symptoms, Lan Xichen had lamented not being able to see the mythical Cold Spring of Gusu. Since Wei Wuxian’s visit there, the location had collapsed in on itself with no signs of life anywhere. The water was pitch black, creating dark rings around the rocks that plugged up the entrances.

After some landscaping had been done around the mountain that the Cloud Recesses sat atop, the workers had stumbled across a spring—naturally cold with atmospheric mist surrounded with bamboo. It was peaceful, with only the running water as the ambient sound.

Lan Wangji shook his head, “The Back Hills are naturally chilly and secluded from the rest of the palace. It is conducive for healing and relaxation. There was already a body of water; I’ve just asked them to clean the area up.”

Lan Xichen slowly exhaled, “How have you been?”

This was one of the rare occasions where Lan Xichen allowed Lan Wangji to linger longer than a few minutes, so Lan Wangji poured a new cup of tea for him, “The transition was all right. The official coronation has been set to occur in a month. All of the invitations have been sent out.”

“That’s good.” Lan Xichen picked up the piping hot teacup, swirling the steam around, “When will you tell Young Master Wei?”

Lan Wangji blinked, but before he could answer, Lan Xichen softly laughed, a hint of sadness lacing his syllables, “Just like my abdication, Young Master Wei’s promotion to empress will not change much. I have heard that he has been performing his duties quite diligently.”

Lan Wangji dipped his head, “He is reckless and procrastinates, wholly unpredictable—the opposite of the Lan doctrines.”

“He gave the doctrines to us.” Lan Xichen sipped his tea slowly, “And some contrast is refreshing. He is a good teacher to Sizhui and Jingyi, quite eloquent with his words when he needs to be, gifted in music, and is a capable cultivator.”

“He…” Lan Wangji trailed off. With time, he had figured out the connection between his brother and Jin Guangyao. If he were to say something like “but Wei Ying is a man,” Lan Xichen would certainly not take it as an answer.

So he kept quiet, allowing the slight sounds of tea sipping to seep into his ears, accompanied with the hanging kettle over the coalfire just next to the table.

“The people would not approve of it.”

Lan Xichen mused, “That is correct.”

Lan Wangji knew that he was correct, but inwardly, he supposed that he wished Lan Xichen would say something different. Lan Wangji only dipped his head in acknowledgement.

“They’ll say that it’s the result of a poor upbringing.” Lan Xichen continued with his thought, “Perhaps say that orphans truly aren’t fit for the throne, or that we are ill-bred, or perhaps illegitimate children with no actual right to the throne. They’ll even spread rumors that Sizhui and Jingyi will turn out the same.”

Lan Wangji kept quiet, each statement jabbing at his heart.

But Lan Xichen poured Lan Wangji a cup of the amber tea, “Do you know why they say these things?”

Lan Wangji thought for a moment, “It is unheard of for an emperor to have this alignment.”

Lan Xichen nodded with a small smile, “So isn’t it all the better to set the standard?”

Lan Wangji lowered his head, “I am not sure how he feels.”

“If your feelings are genuine, and your character is true, I see no reason why not.”

“Zhan-er!”

Lan Wangji’s head whipped around, seeing Wei Wuxian bound to the front door of the Orchid Room with a face of awe, “So this is where you were. I’ve packed up all my things—I’m ready to go when you’re done talking with Zewu-jun.”

Lan Xichen tilted his head, “Where are you going, Wangji?”

Lan Wangji quickly shifted to business, “Qishan, to investigate the tremors. They may be linked to the Molten Blade of the Sun.”

Lan Xichen nodded slowly, “Go on then. I will manage your duties while you are gone.”

Lan Wangji carefully stood up and saluted before turning on his heels to approach Wei Wuxian, who was waiting at the door. He shot up from his leaned pose against the door frame, wearing a radiant smile, “Ready to go?”

“Mn.”

Baoshan Sanren found that her behavior had shifted quite drastically from before.

Bolder and bolder, more and more secular.

To be immortal was to accept that you had ripped yourself from the fabric of time, eternally floating in the realm of space. They meant that any connection to someone still tied to the arrow of mortality would soon rip away from her grip, no matter how hard she tried to stop it. She was an immortal, not a time god.

But even so, even though every fabric of her unaging being had warned her, she reached out to a mortal animal.

It wasn’t any ordinary animal—a sleek white cat with its paws permanently stained red that swirled up into black stripes, sporting a pair of twilight eyes and a skittish personality. True to its abnormal appearance, the cat did seem to exhibit some level of spiritual energy sensitivity, hissing at unfamiliar wards and stalking with great precision.

It had also persistently followed her around, even when she would pack up her entire residence and move to the other side of China, it would still appear by her side. It would even meow indignantly, as if scolding her for doing such a thing. Baoshan Sanren’s disciples soon grew tired of the constant moves, and implored her to just raise the cat.

They, as mortal as they were, did not understand her hesitance. But after a few weeks of the routine, she eventually welcomed the cat into her life.

Its striped legs reminded her of a night, while its pure white body reminded her of the day. So she called it Buye—meaning “Nightless.”

Buye was quite a loyal creature, weaving in and out of Baoshan Sanren’s steps without wavering. It would only eat if it was in the same room as her, only sleep in her personal chambers on her bed, and only listen to her commands. It rarely disturbed her disciples (much to her relief), who was glad that the cat seemed to be tamed once Baoshan Sanren began to adopt it into her life.

Such a strange creature seemed familiar, but she couldn’t pinpoint what exactly. Over the weeks, she had shedded most of her suspicions, crouching to play with it on occasion or battling with it when it refused baths. However, it didn’t stop her from theorizing or just thinking about it.

Today, Buye curled up into her lap as she sat in her pavilion, polishing her sword as she heard rainfall from the clouds below.

Although Buye looked to be sleeping, it was actually listening quite carefully, its ears twitching and head rolling side to side. Baoshan Sanren lowered her cleaning cloth with a smile, “Do you miss the rain?”

Naturally, the cat could not answer. It only nuzzled further into her lap, trying to find its own form of comfort.

Baoshan Sanren thought that she could feel it. The feeling of rain on her face, her clothes stuck to her body, the smell of the rain when it hits the fresh grass.

She thought to descend the mountain, just for a few moments. Just to stand in the rain for a little bit.

But Buye stretched in her lap, nearly curling the other way before it leapt down to the bench and sat at her feet. As she looked down at the cat, Buye began to lick itself clean.

Ah, a childish thought. She was still an immortal—any more deviances, and she may find herself with graying hair and a foolish set of emotions. All things that she had denounced, all things that she had given up in her efforts, all things that she did not covet for dynasties.

It was about a few days trip from Gusu to Qishan, and because Lan Wangji was departing as the Gusu Lan Sect Leader and not the Emperor of China, and there wasn’t any large emergency, it was improper to fly via swords.

So he brought Lan Sizhui and a few more experienced disciples with him as part of his entourage trailing behind him, and Wei Wuxian took the spot just next to Lan Wangji.

Because of Lan Sizhui’s superiority among the Gusu Lan disciples, he trailed closer behind Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, hand resting on Zhensi’s hilt in precaution. If one ignored the substantial entourage of white-clad disciples following the three, they would surely look like a little family.

“And little Sizhui over here,” Wei Wuxian had been rambling to Lan Wangji for the entire trip to pass the time, “is truly a prince of princes. Zhan-er, where did you find a kid so talented?”

Wei Wuxian had long gotten used to Lan Wangji’s lack of response and Lan Sizhui’s awkward laughter responses, so he placed his hands behind his head as he stretched, “Your Jingyi seems to be a mutant of sorts, no? I suppose nature is over nurture then.”

He happily hummed, musing over his thoughts before he tilted his head towards Lan Sizhui, “Hey, how’s the investigation at Biling Lake?”

Lan Sizhui had taken up the duties of Lan Wangji as Gusu Lan Sect Leader. During his reign as Acting Emperor, Lan Wangji had delegated all remote duties to himself—including reports, essays, messages, letters, etc.

However, ever since Lan Wangji was designated to be the new emperor of the dynasty, no longer acting, planning a coronation and dealing with palace affairs and whatever minor restructuring was a priority. Thus, he gave himself only the most vital sect leader duties, and delegated the rest to Lan Sizhui.

Lan Sizhui was even given a smaller version of the sect leader’s headdress: a simple fixture at the base of his ponytail with two jade sticks pointing outwards where the remainder of his forehead ribbon was draped over. Lan Wangji had a larger, more ornate version—distinct from Lan Sizhui’s—but Lan Sizhui was still notably different from the rest of the disciples.

Lan Wangji’s retained “vital sect leader duties” were slim—better to be called a “last resort” if anything. Lan Sizhui was allowed full reign to coordinate night hunts, even with disciples from other allied sects. It was no question who handled internal affairs, from bathroom mishaps to lecturer replacements to dietary changes. He received all letters that were addressed specifically to the sect, and the weekly reports to Lan Wangji dwindled to monthly.

It was suitable to call Lan Sizhui the Acting Sect Leader—many already had. It was rumored that just like Lan Xichen with Lan Wangji, Lan Sizhui would eventually be able to take out the “Acting” in his title.

Regardless of his title, Lan Sizhui had diligently kept up with his specialty training with Zhensi while also shouldering this heavy burden. Wei Wuxian felt as if he could do nothing but treat Lan Sizhui just a bit kinder (of course not without treating the other three juniors equally). After all, the poor kid always seemed to be two steps away from flipping.

Lan Wangji had previously expressed that Lan Sizhui had anger issues as a child, which were tamped down by the Lan lectures and overwhelming number of rules to abide by. Perhaps it was the fact that Lan Wangji was a supportive guardian, or maybe the fear of abandonment again, that made Lan Sizhui dedicated to becoming the best disciple the Gusu Lan Sect would ever see.

Lan Sizhui lowered his head, “We couldn’t find much at the lake. We’ve introduced more fish from other lakes in the region to repopulate it, but because Biling Lake is so large, it will take some time before it can be deemed fishing-ready. None of the instruments could detect any presence of resentful energy, and the abnormal behavior has ceased since the incident.”

Wei Wuxian was going to move on, but he couldn’t quite help but notice how sunken Lan Sizhui’s eyes were. His grip on Zhensi’s hilt wasn’t as steady as before, but his face was frozen, as if focusing extremely hard on something.

Wei Wuxian nodded understandingly, and held out a hand to pat Lan Sizhui’s head lightly, “Don’t push yourself too much, okay Sizhui?”

Lan Sizhui nodded as any good kid would, and Wei Wuxian got the feeling that he wouldn’t listen to him.

Out the corner of his eye, he could see that Lan Wangji’s eyes were no longer staring forward into the road—but instead slightly off to the side in Lan Sizhui’s direction.

Lan Sizhui was not one to hold grudges.

Thus, he had little regrets in life, but also little ties that grounded him to the reality he was traversing. Under Lan Wangji’s guardianship and tutelage, he had grown to be a phlegmatic and forgiving cultivator—which only made the buried thoughts all the more aggravating.

Still, he carried on as normal: thinking of the few sects that had written him letters requesting this and that, weekly inventory reports, bimonthly merchant reports, general Gusu news, disciple progress reports strewn about his desk in consideration for promotions, essays that were sitting in his office needing to be graded…

”Sizhui,” Lan Jingyi’s memory of a voice resonated in his mind, ”do you need any help? You don’t look so good right now.”

”I’m fine,” Lan Sizhui had responded that time, clutching the scrolls and booklets close to his chest underneath the full twilight moon, ”There’s not much to do today—I just need to look over a few records.”

”If you say so…”

After the fall of the Wen Dynasty and the subsequent purging of all Wen citizens, their hometown Qishan had become somewhat deserted, with very few townspeople still lingering. Even though the royal Wens had relocated to Gusu and stayed there for many decades, they cherished their hometown, and so had retainers and remnants upkeep the Wen Sect branch in Qishan and surrounding area.

Lan Sizhui felt an overwhelming warmth encompassing him as they stepped over the threshold of the city. The townspeople did not budge much, but they noticeably stiffened.

They were well-aware of the Gusu Lans, easily identified by the white flowing headband. However, it was because they looked to be powerful cultivators in general that they were likely at a loss for what to do.

For the years of the Sunshot Campaign often featured similarly dressed cultivators flooding the gates of Qishan to burn the city to the ground.

It was only natural that the townspeople were at a loss now seeing this same group march in with no blatant ill intention.

Qishan was left with no cultivation sect, as no family dared to inherit the reputation of Qishan that the Wen Dynasty left behind. Lan Sizhui was left to check the disciples into the nearby inn while Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian talked to the mayor.

As Lan Sizhui was distributing room keys, he heard a voice call out, “Ah, Brother Sizhui?!”

Lan Sizhui looked over, seeing Ouyang Zizhen and Jin Ling having dinner at a table off to the side, sitting in a shadowed area that covered their features. When he finished passing out keys and delivering instructions, he rushed over to the table, “You two really chose the best hiding spot, huh?”

Ouyang Zizhen beamed, “Isn’t it great? There’s a part of the window missing, so they filled it in. But it’s not the same material, so it casts a nice shadow over Jin Ling’s face. I’ve been staring for a while to see if I could replicate the technique on an ink painting.

Jin Ling sighed, looking straight at Lan Sizhui, “I heard that you came with His Majesty to investigate the Four Beasts of Damnation?”

Lan Sizhui nodded. Even though the mission was a top-tier palace mission, he felt that he knew Ouyang Zizhen and Jin Ling long enough for him to be able to share, “We are—specifically the Molten Blade of the Sun.”

Lan Sizhui laced his words with an underlying meaning, and Jin Ling nodded firmly, “We’re about to head out to pick the rest of Zizhen’s laundry list of herbs—there’s a few that can only be picked at night. I’ll send you a Jin butterfly if I find anything useful.”

Lan Sizhui thanked him before asking, “So you’re helping Zizhen… pick herbs?”

Jin Ling sighed, “Uncle sent me to guard Zizhen on his trip.”

“Every month, Master has me make a trip to Qishan to get a bulk amount of local herbs from her hometown. It’s not a dangerous venture, but it is pretty far from the Cloud Recesses, so she had Rulan accompany me.” Ouyang Zizhen groaned, massaging his knotted shoulders, “Luckily, I’m not afraid of Qishan! Look at it—all of the piping hot magma has cooled to stone now, and the volcano in the north end has been dormant for years.”

“His Majesty mentioned tremors in Qishan.”

Ouyang Zizhen hummed, “We just got here yesterday—there was the slightest of tremors, like a small momentary shake. The townspeople said that it wasn’t as bad as yesterday, or the day before or even the week before.

Be it a god’s intervention or pure luck, Ouyang Zizhen and Jin Ling decided to stick around a tad longer to figure out the phenomenon. Ouyang Zizhen patted his chest, “I’ve got a bunch of emergency talismans from my master. It sets itself on fire if her residence or loved one is in danger, so I can hang around for longer as long as nothing’s happened.”

Lan Sizhui dipped his head, “Thank you.”

He had no appetite after the grueling trip, and so decided to retire to his room.

Qishan had very few customers—the innkeeper looked to be rather familiar with Ouyang Zizhen and Jin Ling, as if they were regulars—and so most of the rooms were available. Since money was not an issue for the palace, Lan Sizhui got his own room.

He always felt like he was in a state of limbo. He was an adopted son, not quite a royal prince, but still taking up the position. He was the Acting Gusu Lan Sect Leader, doing all of the hard work, but not quite on the same level as the actual sect leaders of other sects. Lan Wangji was to be the highest representative for their sect, and attended the major banquets with Lan Sizhui.

Who could overshadow the emperor? One could only be overshadowed by him.

And even though he considered himself lower than the actual sect leaders, he felt as if the gap between him and the head disciples was quite high. There was less in common with Lan Jingyi now, who had reluctantly taken the position as head disciple in Lan Sizhui stead. Though, Lan Sizhui always felt like he was still the head disciple—just with some extra duties stacked on top.

If Lan Jingyi accompanied him on this trip, perhaps he’d have a roommate. But someone had to stay behind to attend to the sect duties for the few days that Lan Sizhui was gone, and Lan Sizhui didn’t want to burden a disciple with the responsibility of rooming with the Acting Sect Leader.

When he thought about it, he felt quite lonely. Not quite fitting in any of the spheres that he was allocated towards, even if he acted as if he was. Even if he took in fellow sect leaders as visitors in Lan Wangji’s stead, even if he personally tutored some struggling disciples, even if he could still laugh and have fun with Lan Jingyi, Ouyang Zizhen, and Jin Ling as if he were nothing more than a disciple of a cultivation sect.

The installment of the concubines meant that he had some mother figures in the palace perhaps, but he never made a move to visit them. For one, the visit would not be very long, and for another, he wasn’t familiar with their sects or their persons. The sect leaders always reported directly to the Frost Palace, as they only visited for the concubinage and not for any sect-related matters.

Besides, even if they had sect-related matters to tend to in the Cloud Recesses, Lan Wangji was still the Gusu Lan Sect Leader. When given the chance to meet with the Emperor of China or his adopted son, who would choose the latter?

But maybe the concubines were different. He overheard from Wei Wuxian’s prattling that they had quite the personalities—very different from the rigid walls of the Lan doctrine and a welcome change of texture for the palace.

Perhaps one visit wouldn’t hurt.

Chapter 33: scorch the remnants of time

Chapter Text

When Wei Wuxian was on his sole quest to locate the four pieces of Yin Iron, he found that Xuanwu could subtly point him in their direction, even calling him to approach certain roads or turns.

As for the Four Beasts of Damnation, it seemed to be the opposite. Xuanwu was calling him to leave Qishan—they only continued forward because the reports of tremors were very real. With every step they took, the reality that they were about to confront the Molten Blade of the Sun became more real.

Wei Wuxian wondered if Xuanwu was scared of the Molten Blade of the Sun—perhaps it and the True Warrior of Slaughter were in some sort of rivalry. It wasn’t a strong pull away—more of a constant nudge in the wrong direction.

After Lan Wangji was done talking to the mayor, he emerged from the residence, meeting Wei Wuxian at the front, “The tremors are originating from the former Qishan Wen Sect grounds. They have currently left the city, but are still quite close to the edge of the city.”

Wei Wuxian nodded slowly as they made for the inn, “Say, you know how Xuanwu has also been acting strangely?”

“Mn.”

“Do you think it’s because the True Warrior of Slaughter and Molten Blade of the Sun have a long-standing rivalry.”

Lan Wangji thought for a moment, “No.”

“Exactly. If they did, I imagine that Xuanwu should be attracted towards it to fight, or at the very least should be more adamant on leaving the city.” Wei Wuxian mused, “But it’s a constant pull away.”

“Towards Yiling, in the southeast.”

Wei Wuxian nodded, having nothing more to say as they entered the tavern. It was nearing the end of the dinner hour, with mostly labor workers having a quick dinner before heading off. The innkeeper confirmed that Lan Sizhui had already booked a room for them.

In the beginning, Wei Wuxian was a bit averse to sharing a room with Lan Wangji, finding it quite awkward. But over time, he had relented that they shared a room in the Rimefrost Villa. Besides, the room had two beds, so it wasn’t like anything embarrassing was going to happen—especially since Lan Wangji did not seem to be in the mood for alcohol.

The room was like any other ordinary room—but the shelves were clean and empty, devoid of any decorative statues or books or scrolls. Additionally, the candles were not lit, and all of the furniture was fastened to the ground. When Wei Wuxian peered into the wooden flooring, he could see wax stains, dents, and other markings that couldn’t quite be fixed without an enormous budget.

It made sense—the constant tremors meant that damages were to occur.

Wei Wuxian chugged a jug of a Qishan specialty wine, the flavor roasted and ashy, as if it had been burnt. The alcohol content wasn’t very high, but he figured that he should be mostly sober for tomorrow’s activities.

The two settled down in the room, with Lan Wangji wasting no time in setting his guqin down to play “Purification.” It was a nightly routine they did, something to ease the Yin Iron Amulet half and Xuanwu’s temperament. They didn’t cause Wei Wuxian any trouble beyond the constant nudging, but Lan Wangji insisted that they nip it before it grows to become an actual issue.

Besides, Lan Wangji was a master with the guqin, so much so that he had created his own spiritual technique with it. Thus, his music was quite pleasing to listen to, and truly did wash the whole inn with a calming layer of satisfaction.

Wei Wuxian hummed, “Zhan-er.”

“Mn?”

“Why do you help me?”

Lan Wangji’s eyelids fluttered, “Repayment.”

Wei Wuxian laughed, “Ah, the scroll? Zhan-er, you can’t die for me—how else could you repay me?”

“Dedication of one’s life to another.” Lan Wangji rattled off like it was just another rule in the Lan doctrine.

Wei Wuxian couldn’t quite argue against that, but it hardly answered his burning question. Lan Wangji looked up at him, skillful fingers still plucking the notes and chords without a skip in the beat, “Just ask what you want to ask.”

Wei Wuxian paused for a moment, “Zhan-er, I’m sorry.”

“There is no need for ‘sorry’ or ‘thanks’ between us.” Lan Wangji spoke gracefully over the notes.

To that, Wei Wuxian smiled, the corners of his lips perking up, “All right.”

He couldn’t quite ask what he wanted to ask. There wasn’t enough alcohol for him to drink that would allow him to be bolder, and he felt that asking for Lan Wangji’s feelings was just a bit too flirtatious.

But he remembered the scars and wounds littering Lan Wangji’s back, the result of every rule he had broken while thinking of Wei Wuxian. Ordering Hefeng Wine from Yunmeng, ordering large quantities of Emperor’s Smile, drinking and drinking like Wei Wuxian had been. The Fleeting Reverie incense, how the smell of lavender took months to waft out of the Rimefrost Villa even after all sources had been thrown out.

The scent-clearing talismans were never strong enough to artificially remove it.

Wei Wuxian finished all of the alcohol on his person, even digging into his qiankun pouch reserves of strong liquor. But no matter how much alcohol he drank, he couldn’t shake out the thought.

Lan Wangji liked him.

Lan Wangji liked him.

In his tipsy state, he muttered, “Why?”

Lan Wangji did not hear him, still plucking away at the verses of “Purification.”

Lan Wangji finished “Purification” with a fading note, only to look up and see that Wei Wuxian had fallen asleep on the table, an empty jug of Hefeng Wine in his hand.

He packed up his guqin as he stood, watching the instrument erupt in sparkles as it disappeared. Wei Wuxian was slumped fully over the table, legs folded underneath him half on the cushion, seemingly having slid off it.

Carefully, he bent over to pick him up, one arm underneath his shoulders and the other underneath his knees. It wasn’t the least embarrassing carrying position, but it was the easiest for him. Besides, as long as Wei Wuxian wasn’t awake, Lan Wangji figured that it would be okay for just a few seconds.

He walked over to the bed that Wei Wuxian had claimed, laying him down delicately. When Lan Wangji went to pull the quilt over him, Wei Wuxian’s eyes fluttered open.

Lan Wangji froze in his step, “Wei Ying?”

Wei Wuxian still looked somewhat delirious, “Zhan-er…”

Lan Wangji put the quilt down underneath Wei Wuxian’s arms and sat in the chair next to the bed, “Mn. It is me.”

Wei Wuxian made no move to get up, and Lan Wangji couldn’t tell if he was drunk or simply tired. Wei Wuxian opened his mouth and said nothing for a while, “Your concubines are quite talkative.”

Lan Wangji blinked before his gaze drifted down, “Are you less lonely?”

“‘Lonely’?” Wei Wuxian hummed, “When was I lonely? There’s you, Jiang Cheng, Shi-jie, Sizhui, Jingyi, Jin Ling, Zizhen…”

Lan Wangji said nothing, but Wei Wuxian’s head rolled to the side, away from Lan Wangji, “But yeah, I guess they make my days in the Inner Palace better.”

The bit of small talk had ended quite abruptly, and the two stayed in the thick silence for a long time. Then, Wei Wuxian’s arms shot up, wrapping tightly around Lan Wangji’s neck and pulling him down.

Lan Wangji, in a fit of panic, used his arms to brace himself, creating some resistance between him propping himself up and Wei Wuxian’s pull. Even so, he was quite close to Wei Wuxian’s face, smelling the scent of mixed liquor as Wei Wuxian spoke, “Ah, your face is a bit clearer now, Zhan-er.”

The tips of Lan Wangji’s ears burned as he tried to break free, but Wei Wuxian tightened his hold, “Zhan-er, Zhan-er, do you like it when I call you that? You’ve gone red.”

Lan Wangji was now really starting to panic, forcing out a pained, “Wei Ying.”

“Lan Zhan…”

Did Wei Wuxian just pout? Lan Wangji felt as if he would truly die. He steeled himself, “Wei Ying, you’re drunk. We have things to do tomorrow.”

“Things…” Wei Wuxian groaned, but his hold was iron-clad and not budging under Lan Wangji’s insistences, “Zhan-er, you’re still red. Feverish?”

Wei Wuxian loosened one hand to put it against Lan Wangji’s forehead, but he frowned before returning his arm to where it was before, “You don’t feel sick…”

“Not sick.”

This time, Wei Wuxian laughed, “Embarrassed? Ah, is it because of your concubines?”

Lan Wangji shook his head, but Wei Wuxian hardly believed him, “I know you visit them sometimes… what do you do with them?”

“Concubine Sun’s condition is better with Physician Wen’s medicine, and Concubine Li agreed to ask her father about the southern trading ports.”

“Lies.” Wei Wuxian quickly retorted, pulling Lan Wangji’s head closer, “They told me…”

Lan Wangji truly wasn’t lying, but had forgotten that Wei Wuxian wasn’t quite himself right now, and so asked, “Told you what?”

“They told me about the things that a concubine does with her husband.” Wei Wuxian’s smile was lopsided and unsteady, “Painting, calligraphy, poetry, music…”

Wei Wuxian craned his head upwards towards Lan Wangji’s burning ear, “Sex…”

At the sound of that, Lan Wangji found the strength to rip himself away, breaking free from Wei Wuxian’s hold. He held Wei Wuxian’s wrists as they were mid-air, slamming them into the bed on either side of Wei Wuxian’s head.

Wei Wuxian looked quite surprised, though the small smile didn’t leave his mouth, “Ah, Zhan-er? What is it?”

“You…”

“I what?” Wei Wuxian tilted his head, “Did I say something wrong?”

Lan Wangji squinted before letting go of Wei Wuxian’s wrists, straightening out his wrinkled robes, “It is nine in the evening. Time for bed.”

Wei Wuxian groaned as Lan Wangji quickly walked away, “Zhan-er, you’re such a stickler for rules!”

Lan Wangji said nothing as he laid himself in the other bed, pulling the quilt over his body and hastily closing his eyes. He zapped out a small charm to put out all of the candles in the room, faintly smelling the smoke waft away. Wei Wuxian’s drunken protests eventually died out.

“They told me about the things that a concubine does with her husband.”

Lan Wangji clenched his eyes shut tighter.

The morning was as bright as usual, but Wei Wuxian woke up rather sore and groggy.

It was mostly his wrists which seemed pained, but he found that both of his arms were somewhat sore in its entirety, as if he had been pulling something heavy or resistant for quite a while. There was a ring of a throbbing pain around his wrists, like a bracelet drawn too tight or a strong set of hands wrapped around them.

He smelled faintly of sandalwood, but then again, ever since he had stuck close to Lan Wangji, the sandalwood scent had always persisted. Beyond his arms and wrists, nothing was out of the ordinary.

However, when he tried to recall how he went from the table to the bed, he couldn’t conjure up the memory. Had he really drunk that much?

His head buzzed as he sat up.

“Wei Ying.”

Lan Wangji’s voice seeped through the haze, and Wei Wuxian cleared his throat, “Ah, Zhan-er…”

He wasn’t quite sure what to say. Had he done something? Lan Wangji’s face was not telling as usual—he couldn’t tell if he was okay or if he should just go dig a hole in the middle of nowhere and crawl inside.

Lan Wangji dipped his head, “You drank a lot last night.”

“Did I do anything?” Wei Wuxian figured that it was okay to be honest, “I… I don’t really remember anything.”

Lan Wangji’s eyebrows raised just the slightest bit, and he stared at Wei Wuxian for a while before shaking his head, “Nothing.”

The air was filled with a potent silence, with only the rustling of clothes as Wei Wuxian dressed.

There really wasn’t much to talk about. They had discussed their plans last night to great detail before entering the inn (there wasn’t much to talk about). There weren't really any updates that could’ve occurred over the night that neither party were aware of, and it wasn’t exactly time yet to ask how Lan Wangji’s day was.

Lan Wangji, surprisingly, initiated a conversation, “Why do you call me that?”

“Ah? ‘Zhan-er’ you mean?” Wei Wuxian mused, “I guess I’ve just called you that for so long that it’s more natural to me.” A pause, “I can stop if you want me to.”

Again to Wei Wuxian’s surprise, Lan Wangji shook his head, “Was just curious.”

Then again, Wei Wuxian shouldn’t have considered it to be much of a surprise. Lan Wangji liked him. He knew this little factoid, but he still denied it. Tried to forget about it, tried to find a way to resolve it the cleanest.

Did he himself like Lan Wangji? Wei Wuxian supposed that the better question was whether there was anything to not like about Lan Wangji.

Sure, he was a stick-in-the-mud, but that made it all the more fun to play around with. He was certain to be a loyal person, with a high dedication and drive. He was a strong cultivator—the Chief Cultivator and a prominent sect leader. He was politically the most powerful, and had two adopted sons who were also strong and enjoyable to interact with. Lan Wangji was also handsome and pretty at the same time—even his scars looked picturesque.

On top of everything, he diligently cared for Wei Wuxian. Fed him, bought him clothes, gave him a secure place to stay, allowed him to roam wherever he wanted and visit whoever he wanted, gave him a training area—among other things.

So why couldn’t he accept it?

Perhaps there just wasn’t a good opening. Maybe later down the road, when everything was settled, when Wei Wuxian made his decision, and there was an opening to talk about it with Lan Wangji—maybe, just maybe, he’d accept it.

Lan Sizhui had rounded up the entourage of disciples for breakfast downstairs. When Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji made their way down, they were surprised to see that Ouyang Zizhen and Jin Ling were coincidentally in the same area and willing to help out.

Wei Wuxian smiled as he put his hands on his hips, “Jin Ling, are the talismans helping?”

Jin Ling nodded, “My arm is a little less stiff, but not fully back to what it was before.”

Wei Wuxian laughed, “Zhan-er, you should’ve seen Jiang Cheng’s face! He must’ve thought Jin Ling’s arm was possessed by a ghost with the amount of talismans I was pasting on him.”

Lan Wangji huffed, “Let’s head out.”

The southeast edge of the city wasn’t too far away—they had purposefully booked the inn closest to that edge. It was rather strange for a supposed bird to burrow underground, but with no sightings of a creature and tremors from underground, it seemed to be the only option.

Wei Wuxian wielded Xuanwu, noticing that it was still constantly drawn towards the southeast. Now it felt more like a subtle attraction than repulsion, but it still didn’t get any stronger or weaker.

The ensemble of cultivators reached the main road that connected Qishan to southeastern cities—a smooth dirt road with a few cracks from age. Faded footsteps and carriage tracks littered the sandy ground, with some tracks disappearing into the emerald grass shoulders before heading back onto the road.

Although it was still winter, there was not much snow on the ground. This was typical for Qishan, for the magma flow was a constant source of warmth.

Today, however, the air was also warm. And since the fall of the Wen Dynasty and the Wen Sect as a whole, no one was there to maintain the magma flow, and it had long cooled off. It shouldn’t be so warm after so long, and everyone noticed this little detail.

“Maybe the warmth is lingering in the ground?”

“That wouldn’t really explain why the air is cold too.”

The disciples began to murmur theories, but the only logical one was that the Molten Blade of the Sun was here recently, or perhaps still here.

Wei Wuxian raised up an arm, “Be quiet.”

The disciples hushed to a dead silence, and it seemed like even the wind had ceased. Wei Wuxian closed his eyes and slowed his breathing, keeping his arm up in the air.

The idle rustling of grass, the sound of distant wind. The sound of clothing brushing against itself. He clenched his eyes tighter, as if it would help him focus more.

Then there it was.

Wei Wuxian’s eyes flew open as he cast Lan Wangji a side glance, spinning Xuanwu in his hand slowly until the tip of the blade pointed down. Lan Wangji thankfully understood, and sent the rest a signal to silently back away as slow as possible.

Ouyang Zizhen and Jin Ling were not familiar with Gusu Lan signals, but with Lan Sizhui’s help, they complied. When Wei Wuxian had a large enough radius of empty space around him, he diverted his flow of spiritual energy to his arms and raised Xuanwu up as high as he physically could.

Then, in one fell swoop, he drove Xuanwu’s blade straight into the ground.

As soon as the sword pierced the hard earth, a shriek rumbled from underneath. The cracks in the hard clay that had opened up upon impact began to grow, branching outwards into cavernous cracks.

The Lan entourage ran up for assistance, dodging the growing cracks with their swords drawn. Lan Sizhui spoke up first, “Senior Wei, what do we do now?!”

“The Molten Blade of the Sun is the magma flowing underground!” Wei Wuxian bellowed, “Fly up into the air!”

With the amount of confidence that Wei Wuxian had, there was no rebuting his words even if it seemed outrageous. No one questioned how he knew, or anything of the sort, only mounting their swords as they flew up into the air.

With no other secondary weapon, the disciples readied charms and talismans. Only Lan Sizhui and Lan Wangji wielded their guqins. Wei Wuxian was shakily flying on Suibian, Xuanwu still in the ground.

Underneath, the glow of hot lava began to spill from the depths of the cracks, The shrieks echoed from everywhere with no real origin. A sudden rushing sound congregated to where Xuanwu was.

Despite heat waves radiating up into the air, Xuanwu was still as black as night rather than glowing under the heat. Covered with the growing flames, it was as if Xuanwu was a cold heart.

An orb of rolling fire began to form around Xuanwu, engulfing the iron sword in pure light as the orb spun faster and faster. One branch of fire whipped outwards like a wing, and the same thing happened in the opposite direction.

A shorter branch formed the tail, and when the head was shaped of flames, the Molten Blade of the Sun cried out a piercing scream.

Melancholic, like a last battle cry.

Heat waves licked at the cultivators’ boots as they immediately began to throw talismans and charms at it to weaken or inhibit it. The sounds of guqin music accompanied the waves of light directed straight at the beast.

Wei Wuxian, on the other hand, was staring straight into the blinding core of fire—testing a theory.

After some time, he furrowed his brow and raised his arm, “Stop!”

The barrage of attacks ceased, and Jin Ling bit the inside of his cheek, “Why?!”

“Look at it.” Wei Wuxian pointed down, “It’s not attacking us.”

Whispers spread among the disciples as they peered down, watching the fiery ball writhe in the air. Feathers made of sparks lashed out nonsensically as the wings thrashed, and the screeches were directed inwards as its neck contorted down into its core.

An uncanny choking sound emerged from the Molten Blade of the Sun as black wisps of resentful energy polluted the bright flames. It eventually covered the light, giving the illusion that it had snuffed out the beast. The sky darkened as resentful energy swirled up and surrounded Wei Wuxian.

The resentful voices flooded his head, screeching and scratching at the walls of his skull. He could very faintly hear the sound of “Purification” from outside his cocoon of smog. Smoke filled his lungs as he sputtered and choked, feeling the muscles in his arms tense until they cramped.

Little by little, the resentful smog lifted his arm up, and he felt a heavy weight in his palm. His fingers cramped as he tried to straighten them out, but as soon as his fingers helplessly wrapped around the object in his hand, the pain seeped away and light barraged his vision.

The sound of guqin music became louder as his hearing rang, and the heat waves from below seemed to subside. When he finally opened his eyes, he found that he was holding Xuanwu.

As if it were a coincidence, the remaining half of the Yin Tiger Amulet crumbled into pieces. It fell into the shrinking ball of flames, and the Molten Blade of the Sun shrieked once more before it fell into ashes on the burnt ground.

The cracks were still in the ground, and it still radiated a strong sense of heat. But it akin to a used wok being taken off the fire—residual heat with no more source. The ground would cool down eventually, and snow would cover the burnt-black clay. Only the cracks left in the ground would serve as a remnant of the beast’s death, but even that would be repaired.

There were some sounds of disappointment at how quickly the “fight” ended—the Abyss Borne of Water was a much more interesting encounter. But there were rumors that it had to be, because the counterpart to the virtuous Azure Dragon of the East had to be the most powerful of the Four Beasts of Damnation.

That wasn’t to say that the Molten Blade of the Sun wasn’t equally as powerful; Wei Wuxian suspected that it was probably one of Xue Chonghai’s most powerful creatures. It was just that it had grown to rely on the Wens for its power and upkeep—and with their demise came its deterioration.

The cultivators floated back down to the ground, sweeping the ashes into a holding pouch for later inspection. There was no longer an amulet to clack against Xuanwu’s hilt; only the red string that held it was left as a reminder.

Wei Wuxian was deep in thought as Lan Sizhui approached, “Senior Wei, what happened just now?”

At the sound of the question, the rest of the disciples faced him. Wei Wuxian felt rather important, as even Lan Wangji himself was paying attention.

Of course he was. Wei Wuxian’s ears burned.

“I was testing out something.” He finally prefaced, “The Abyss Borne of Water was subdued by Xuanwu, and it seems like the Molten Blade of the Sun was as well.”

“But the Abyss Borne of Water lasted much longer!” Jin Ling interjected.

“The Abyss Borne of Water is also much more refined than the Molten Blade of the Sun. Think about it: when solidifying your reign, what do you focus on the most?”

Lan Sizhui pondered for a minute, “Domination, and then self-protection.”

“Exactly.” Wei Wuxian spun Xuanwu idly in his hand, the iron blade slowly swinging around, “The Molten Blade of the Sun was Qishan’s sword of the Wen Dynasty. After that is the Shield Reminiscent of a Face—the shield of the dynasty. The Abyss Borne of Warrior came afterwards as a sword stationed in Gusu, where the Nightless City moved to. The True Warrior of Slaughter was a catalyst for this.”

He held out the iron sword, dull but glistening in old blood, “A singular point in the Yiling Burial Mounds where all resentful yin energy converges. My guess is that Xue Chonghai was secretly harvesting resentful energy and channeling it into this vessel so that he could control his creatures. When he died, Emperor Wen Mao was left with nothing about this, so it was forgotten and he couldn’t control the beasts.”

Wei Wuxian shook his head and sighed, lowering the sword, “Such a failure so early into his reign—he would not accept anyone to remind him of it. My guess is that he had them subdued. So the Four Beasts of Damnation’s story ends with Xue Chonghai’s scarce records of it.”

Lan Sizhui was deep in thought while listening, “Then why are they causing issues now?”

“Naturally because I’m here!” Wei Wuxian grinned toothily, tapping Xuanwu against the ground, “Although the True Warrior of Slaughter was abandoned, only Xue Chonghai knew about Xuanwu. All known knowledge of it died with him when he qi deviated.”

He looked at Lan Wangji this time, still addressing the crowd as a whole, “During Acting Emperor Wen Ruohan’s reign, I was thrown into the Burial Mounds. There, I fought the True Warrior of Slaughter and ripped Xuanwu out from its heart as it died.”

He lowered his eyelids but now looked at the general crowd, “This meant that Xuanwu was simmering with resentful energy from all four cardinal directions for the past several centuries. It would explain why it took a lot of time and energy for it to accept me as its master. And when it did, it granted me the strength that Xue Chonghai and Emperor Wen Mao coveted.”

When the dots connected, the disciples shuffled back away from Wei Wuxian in a caution, their eyes drifting warily at Xuanwu. Just for fun, Wei Wuxian brandished it loosely at them, chuckling when they avoided it.

Jin Ling spoke up, “If Xuanwu’s intent was to control the beasts, then how do you know that they’re dead?”

“I don’t, but Caiyi Town isn’t reporting any more strange occurrences in Biling Lake, and I doubt that that pile of ashes is going to resurrect, even if it’s modeled after a phoenix.” Wei Wuxian hummed, “I suspect that Xuanwu can also force the beasts to self-destruct as long as the wielder holds this intent.”

With no more questions, the group decided to head back to the inn in Qishan to pick up their belongings and head back to the Cloud Recesses. Lan Wangji had kept quiet for the entire mission, face as icy as ever.

Now that Wei Wuxian looked at him more closely side-by-side, the scars on his face weren’t quite bad. In the flashes of memories he sustained from that morning in the Quiet Room where Wei Wuxian had bled out to death, he could vividly see each fresh wound and map them onto the current Lan Wangji’s face.

The disciples, headed by Lan Sizhui, Jin Ling, and Ouyang Zizhen, walked in front of Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian under the former’s order. Wei Wuxian leaned forward curiously, “What did Your Majesty want to talk about in private with me?”

“The Yin Tiger Amulet is now gone.”

Wei Wuxian nodded, “Only the rope is left.”

“Will the Shield Reminiscent of a Face destroy Xuanwu?”

Wei Wuxian thought for a moment, “I’m not sure. If it does, then all the better.”

“Are you all right?”

“Ah?” Wei Wuxian was caught off-guard, “I— I suppose I am; why?”

“The resentful energy.”

After a beat of silence, Wei Wuxian bellowed a laugh, “Zhan-er, that much is nothing! Look at me—I’m the fearsome Patriarch of Yiling, a formerly-wanted man, the grandmaster of demonic cultivation, the founder of all things resentful and evil. That much earlier was hardly anything at all.”

When it had come out that the elusive identity of the Patriarch of Yiling was the presumed-missing Wei Wuxian of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, there was an uproar. Jiang Cheng had complained about all of the sects writing him letters to immediately eject Wei Wuxian from the sect altogether—however, when Wei Wuxian died, the sects had suddenly hushed.

A few lingering clans that had past troubles with demonic cultivators touting the Yiling Patriarch’s title were furious at Wei Wuxian’s revival, spouting about how he came back through wicked ways and was ill-bred. However, with Lan Wangji’s efforts, they had reluctantly agreed that Wei Wuxian was back on the orthodox path.

Under Lan Wangji’s glare, they didn’t dare to demand an apology from Wei Wuxian.

Lan Wangji only stared forward after a slight nod, and Wei Wuxian raised his eyebrows, “Say, Zhan-er, with my reputation as such, why do you associate yourself with me?”

Lan Wangji’s answer was painfully simple:

“Wei Ying is Wei Ying.”

Chapter 34: frost pelts the newborn sentiment

Chapter Text

Wei Wuxian continued blabbering on the entire trip back, talking about random things as he walked alongside Lan Wangji and just in front of Lan Sizhui.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about Lan Wangji’s answer.

“Wei Ying is Wei Ying.”

What the hell does that even mean? Wei Wuxian supposed that it was a very Lan Wangji-esque answer, but at the same time, there seemed to be a hidden meaning behind it that he just couldn’t quite grasp.

To say that it was okay to associate his pure royal self with a demonic cultivator just because the demonic cultivator was true to himself felt wrong. He had vaguely remembered that it was one of the Lan doctrine virtues to be true to oneself, but surely everything else about Wei Wuxian outweighed that.

No matter how long he pondered over the answer, he gained no new leads or ideas. After some time, he forgot about it.

It was dark when they reached Runan—a large trade city in central China. They only had another day’s travel before they would arrive at Gusu on the east coast, so it was a suitable resting point.

Most of the inns were booked, and they were lucky to score a few rooms in a relatively nice-looking tavern. Lan Sizhui, Jin Ling, and Ouyang Zizhen shared a room, and the other Lan disciples were roomed in groups of four or less.

This left Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian with their own room, as it had always been.

Runan was a wealthy city—the starting point of a major trade route that branched out into all corners of the continent, extending even outside of China. Thus it was no surprise that the streets were loud even as dusk fell.

“You can still hear them loud and clear from up here.” Wei Wuxian smiled as he peeked through a slit in the paper window, “We’re on the top floor, but I can hear all sorts of things, from gossip to bartering.”

Wei Wuxian reeled his head back to look at Lan Wangji, “What’s there that you want to know? I guarantee that I can probably listen for the answer if I sit here long enough.”

Lan Wangji said nothing, simply settling down, “Do you know where the Shield Reminiscent of a Face is?”

Wei Wuxian took out the qiankun pouch from his sleeve and pulled Xuanwu out, wielding its heaviness as he closed his eyes.

Then he opened his eyes, brows still pinched, “No.”

When Lan Wangji did not respond, Wei Wuxian put Xuanwu away before smiling, “I know there’s more you want to know about.”

“Like what?”

A pout, “Isn’t it your job to tell me?”

Lan Wangji again said nothing, having finished settling down. It was still too loud outside, but he took out his guqin anyway.

Wei Wuxian adjusted his sitting position at the windowsill, “What are you going to play tonight, Zhan-er?”

“‘Purification’.”

“Again?” Wei Wuxian groaned, tilting his head backwards, “You’ve played it constantly for the past few weeks, can’t you play anything else?”

“It is the most powerful and effective tune in the ‘Cleansing’ series. There is none as effective.”

“Is there anything that needs to be purified though? I mean, I’m no longer practicing demonic cultivation, and I’ve got a proper golden core now. I don’t feel any resentment here.”

Lan Wangji said nothing, a sign that he had no rebuttal, and Wei Wuxian grinned, “Come on, play something nice, like…”

Come to think of it, he didn’t know the name, but he began to hum the few notes that his memory latched onto.

As soon as he did, Lan Wangji’s eyes widened and he held out a hand, “Stop.”

Wei Wuxian promptly did, “Hm? What’s wrong?”

He said nothing again (an infuriating trait of his), but Wei Wuxian noted that he was slightly shaking. Wei Wuxian pursed his lips, “Does it remind you of that day?”

Lan Wangji’s eyes wavered, but he said nothing. Wei Wuxian relented, surfacing a few bottles of Runan’s specialty liquor, known for having a near intolerable alcohol content. Just one sip made Wei Wuxian sigh with glee, having met his match.

It only took about three or four bottles of the alcohol for him to start feeling a bit dizzy. His head swelled with a lightheaded feeling, warmth encapsulating him.

Wei Wuxian leaned against the side of the window as he closed his eyes. Exhaustion overtook him, and he eventually succumbed to sleep.

He dreamed of the Lotus Pier and the Cloud Recesses, stepping foot into one before he stepped in another, as if the two locations had somehow merged.

He saw Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan, and then Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen. He could hear the sounds of a guqin soothing his taut muscles, but also the nostalgic sound of swords clanging in practice.

Further down the merging path, where Wei Wuxian teetered in the line between the two places, he saw Jiang Cheng—later on, Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi. Jin Ling ran past, and Ouyang Zizhen was off to the side.

He saw Jiang Yanli, the first to speak to him in this dreamscape:

“A-Xian, if you find someone that you love, you’d know.”

It was something she had said many years ago, when Wei Wuxian’s hands were newly-callused with the Jiang training regiment, holding a jade bowl of Jiang Yanli’s lotus root and pork rib soup. It was when he had asked why she loved Jin Zixuan, their arrangement so shaky in the beginning.

”Shi-jie,” Wei Wuxian had asked, ”What if I never find someone I love?”

Jiang Yanli had pinched his cheek, ”Of course you will.”

The image faded, and then there was Lan Wangji again, wind blowing underneath his hair, decorated robes heavily waterfalling over his shoulders.

He could only stare forward, looking at the Lan that was just out of his reach. He never thought much about it when he had passed by him earlier, but now it was like a tantalizing fruit.

So he woke up to his arm outstretched up, grazing against the side of Lan Wangji’s shoulder. Lan Wangji had picked him up from the windowsill and was laying him down on the bed. Wei Wuxian’s tailbone was sore—he figured that he must’ve been sleeping for a while before Lan Wangji picked him up.

“Zhan-er.” Wei Wuxian’s breath reeked of strong liquor, but Lan Wangji did not budge.

Lan Wangji was hovering over him, somewhat frozen with his arms still holding onto Wei Wuxian, “Mn.”

“Do you consider yourself shy?”

Hesitation, “... mn.”

Wei Wuxian smiled with his eyes, whispering, “Me too.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes swept over the scars on Lan Wangji’s face, trailing his gaze down Lan Wangji’s neck as it disappeared past the collar. He lifted up one hand, tracing the scar on Lan Wangji’s jaw with the tips of his fingers.

Lan Wangji flinched but did not move away. Wei Wuxian could feel the goosebumps rising underneath his sensitive touch, his eyes following his straying fingers.

“What did I do to gain Your Majesty’s favor?” Wei Wuxian whispered, so softly that his words would break underneath a breeze.

The bustle of nightlife was beginning to wane into a small hum, and Wei Wuxian watched as Lan Wangji’s throat bobbed nervously. Wei Wuxian’s fingers slipped up Lan Wangji’s jawbone, placing his palm on the curve of his chin as his thumb grazed over another scar.

Wei Wuxian could feel the back of his robes bunch up as Lan Wangji’s fist tightened, still holding onto Wei Wuxian with what seemed to be an extraordinary amount of strength.

Lan Wangji simply answered, “Wei Ying, you’re drunk.”

“You like me, don’t you?” Wei Wuxian crookedly smiled, “I like you too, probably.”

“‘Probably’?”

“Mhm.” Wei Wuxian’s hand slipped from Lan Wangji’s jaw to the back of his neck, his other arm wrapping around Lan Wangji’s neck as he pulled him down, “Not too drunk.”

Wei Wuxian’s liquor breath was a direct contrast, his nerves looser and his actions bolder. He was still aware of what he was doing, but now his head was flooded with the image of Lan Wangji and the idea of “what could go wrong?”

Lan Wangji’s face was only inches away from Wei Wuxian’s, and the latter began to remember all of the times where they had been this close before, “Zhan-er?”

Lan Wangji looked to be so full of nerves that he didn’t even mutter an “mn.”

Wei Wuxian tilted his head just a bit, “Have you ever thought of kissing me when we were like this before?”

Lan Wangji swallowed his spit again, eyes trembling and jaw clenched shut. Just as Wei Wuxian began to wonder if everything he was told was false, Lan Wangji forced out a strained answer:

“Yes.”

Lan Wangji leaned down, the tip of his nose just barely touching the tip of Wei Wuxian’s nose. Wei Wuxian blinked, halfway sober, just realizing the magnitude of what was happening.

Wei Wuxian’s grasp slipped from the back of Lan Wangji’s neck, sliding down to grip onto his upper arms. Finally, Lan Wangji laid him down onto the bed. The wood of the bed creaked as the emperor went from standing bent over awkwardly to fully crawling onto the bed over Wei Wuxian.

An overwhelming feeling of comforting warmth washed over Wei Wuxian, his eyelids drooping as his breathing slowed.

For the first time ever, Lan Wangji could not sleep through the night.

He ended up not kissing Wei Wuxian, only hovering over him until the other fell asleep once more. Perhaps if the situation did not reek of liquor, Lan Wangji would give into his desire.

He tucked him into the bed and laid down next to him, as it was the only bed in the room. But he soon found that he was restless, unable to sleep even as twilight turned into morning, when the owls hooting turned into doves cooing.

Wei Wuxian was still sleeping soundly, smelling better once Lan Wangji had applied a charm to remove the stench of alcohol.

He began to wonder if Wei Wuxian would remember.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of rustling behind him as Lan Wangji stood to dress himself.

“Morning…?” A hoarse voice called out from behind.

“Mn.” Lan Wangji’s throat bobbed in nervousness, “We will be checking out in a few hours.”

But Wei Wuxian didn’t care much for their departure time, “Did we…”

Lan Wangji turned around, seeing Wei Wuxian rubbing his hands across the bed and blanket as if looking for something.

“Do you remember anything from last night?”

“Ah?” Wei Wuxian scratched his head, “I…”

Wei Wuxian looked to be racking his head, and Lan Wangji lowered his eyelids, “Forget it.”

“Ah? Zhan-er, wait—”

Wei Wuxian interrupted himself, hastily putting on his boots and pulling his robes together, “Zhan-er, it’s a little fuzzy, but I remember something important happened— hey, where are you going?!”

Lan Wangji grabbed Bichen from the nearby sword stand and promptly left the room, nearly stumbling down the stairs as the sound of Wei Wuxian’s protesting voice followed him. He left the inn, the morning sun blinding him as he walked away.

Anywhere was okay. It didn’t matter where he had to walk.

Foolish. Foolish of him to think, to get his own hopes up.

He eventually walked into a bamboo forest far off from the edge of Runan, where the common trade path did not venture towards. Wind whipped against his face like small, indistinct blades that cut a cold bitterness into his skin. The snow was piled up to his ankles, leaving a deep trail of footprints wherever he walked.

And still the voice followed him. His grip on Bichen’s sheath tightened, but he couldn’t draw the sword against Wei Wuxian.

Not against Wei Ying.

At the same time, he couldn’t turn around to face him either, his pace slowing to a halt as he faced his back towards Wei Wuxian.

“Aiya, Zhan-er, why is your stamina so infuriatingly high?!” Wei Wuxian wheezed.

“Why did you follow me?” Lan Wangji curtly shot back.

“Why not? Zhan-er, you’re the Emperor of China, you can’t go anywhere without an entourage!” Wei Wuxian scolded before drawing back, “In all seriousness, you can’t just run off like that! You didn’t even listen to me!!”

Wei Wuxian huffed, shaking snow off his boots, “I couldn’t even dress myself properly, otherwise I’d lose you, so now there’s snow in my boots! Is this how you’re going to treat your husband?!”

It was then that Lan Wangji turned around, his wide eyes looking directly at Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian stepped forward, pulling his thick outer robe together, “It’s so cold out, and all you let me grab before you ran off was this! Really, Zhan-er, how indecent you are!”

“Say it again.”

“Are you making demands now?” Wei Wuxian scowled, “Lan Zhan, good for you! You’ll even boss your spouse around, huh—?!”

Wei Wuxian’s words were cut off by an enveloping hug as Lan Wangji rushed forward, having dropped Bichen into the snow. His fists clenched nothing as he tightened his hold, “You…”

“I what?” Wei Wuxian sighed, bringing up a free arm to comfortingly pat Lan Wangji’s back, “Zhan-er, I’ll finish that sentence for you—I love you.”

Lan Wangji’s breath hitched as Wei Wuxian smiled into his shoulder, “Not only do I love you, but I fancy you, cherish you, want you, can’t leave you, and it can’t be anyone but you.”

Lan Wangji trembled softly as Wei Wuxian’s patting stopped to simply rest on the other’s back, “I want to night-hunt with you for the rest of my life.”

Wei Wuxian halfway broke away from the iron-clad hold, holding three fingers up towards the snowy sky, “I swear that it’s not just me joking around or teasing you. I’m not doing it because of everything you’ve done for me either. I’ve realized that I only stuck around for you, and I can’t bear to part from your side.”

Lan Wangji was still holding onto Wei Wuxian’s waist, imbuing warmth into him subconsciously with the small trickle of his spiritual energy. A knot formed in his throat, “Love you…”

“Yes,” was the hushed response.

“Fancy you…”

“Yes!” A little louder, echoing in the bamboo forest.

“Cherish you, want you, can’t leave you…” Lan Wangji muttered, his jaw trembling with shock and euphoria and incredulousness.

His words trembled almost as much as his body did, forcing back tears. Wei Wuxian patiently listened to him repeat the words he had confessed with, Lan Wangji branding the very characters into his soul and heart with every heartbeat. With time, Lan Wangji had buried his face into Wei Wuxian’s shoulder and drawn him close to his body, repeating the words still.

Over and over again.

Until a thin layer of snow built up on their shoulders and heads, crowning them in frost. Until Lan Wangji’s voice grew hoarse, and Wei Wuxian’s body was no longer cold.

He was warm now. His heartbeat was right there, fast and alive. He had a strong golden core that accepted every drop of warming spiritual energy that Lan Wangji had to give and more.

He began to cry.

Warm teardrops running down his marred face and landing on Wei Wuxian’s neck. He tightened his hold until he felt like he couldn’t tighten it anymore, scared that everything was nothing but a dream, and that he would wake up without anyone in his arms nor warmth in his room beyond the remnant incense.

Lan Wangji’s heartbeat was loud in his ears as he bit back a happy sob.

“Ow…” Wei Wuxian’s voice softly caressed Lan Wangji like a grazed feather, “So strong…”

Although unhappy, Lan Wangji relented and let go, watching Wei Wuxian massage his back. After some time, he stood up straight, looking directly into Lan Wangji with a never-before seen fervor, “So are you going to run away again?!”

Lan Wangji was still shaky from the overwhelming feelings that coursed through him like incessant waves. Even so, he nodded firmly, “Mn.”

Wei Wuxian laughed, “Your voice is shaking. What, are you that happy? Your face doesn’t show it.”

Lan Wangji bit the inside of his cheek before reaching forward, taking one of Wei Wuxian’s hands. He then pressed it against his chest, firmly planting it against his heart as if he wanted the two to merge.

He steadied his breathing as much as he could, but he could still feel his heart pounding ruthlessly against his ribcage. Wei Wuxian’s fingers shifted around, as if tracing the vibrations of each heartbeat.

Eventually, Wei Wuxian nodded slowly, “So the face can lie, but not the heart, is what you’re saying?”

“Mn.”

Wei Wuxian drew back his hand, the warmth leaving only a trace behind. Wei Wuxian chuckled lightly, “Zhan-er, when did you grow to be a romantic, hm?”

Lan Wangji had no response, only perking up when Wei Wuxian’s face suddenly soured. In the robes he managed to throw around himself, he luckily picked up the one in which his qiankun pouch was in. He fumbled around the messy layers, surfacing the pouch and pulling Xuanwu out.

Lan Wangji’s gears shifted, “What is it?”

“It’s sensing something.” Wei Wuxian squinted before looking around the forest, “But it’s so peaceful here—was the Shield Reminiscent of a Face really in Runan? But it wasn’t a prominent city back then—it was only farmland. There shouldn’t have been any reason…”

Suddenly, the baby hairs on Lan Wangji’s neck rose. He quickly summoned Bichen up from the snowy ground, a flurry of white following it as he brandished the frigid blade out from the sheath.

When the flurry cleared and Lan Wangji’s gaze swept across the scenery, there was only a white cat—one with an interesting striped pattern. When it lifted up its paw to tread through the snow, he saw flashes of red on its paws: not quite like blood, more as if its fur was already colored that way.

Lan Wangji was about to lower his sword, but Wei Wuxian spoke, “Why does that cat hold so much resentment?”

A voice from above, “Because it is what you are looking for.”

Lan Wangji looked up, seeing a woman standing atop a bent stalk of bamboo. She held a sword flush against her back, and her pristine robes fluttered around her.

Wei Wuxian blinked, “Master?”

“Who’s your master?” She shot at him, “As far as I remember, you were expelled from my discipleship.”

Wei Wuxian dipped his head as Baoshan Sanren descended to the ground, “Baoshan Sanren, this cat…”

“Buye is the Shield Reminiscent of a Face.”

Lan Wangji watched as the cat, Buye, encircled Wei Wuxian’s legs lovingly. Wei Wuxian looked up at Baoshan Sanren, “Then is my theory correct?”

Baoshan Sanren lowered her eyelids, “The Four Beasts of Damnation are drawn towards all sources of Yin Iron. Those who wield it control it. It had not been refined during Wen Mao’s reign, and so he banished that which he could not control.”

“So it sees me as its owner?”

Baoshan Sanren nodded, to which Lan Wangji spoke up next, “You own the Shield Reminiscent of a Face?”

“Buye has been following me around wherever I go. I simply took it in.” Baoshan Sanren sighed as she shook her head, “I’m ashamed to admit that it took me a while to realize why a Beast of Damnation was following me.”

“Why’s that?” Wei Wuxian asked.

Baoshan Sanren looked at Wei Wuxian before her gaze drifted towards Lan Wangji. She gave him a look so potent that it was almost frightening—and Lan Wangji understood.

Baoshan Sanren then turned back to Wei Wuxian, “Hand me the sword.”

Wei Wuxian did not protest, almost happy to free it from his possession. As soon as her hand grasped the iron handle, crystals erupted from her touch. It engulfed the sword before it flaked off—ice and iron turning into dust as it fell into the snow.

The pure iron sword did not seem to be purely iron anymore: underneath the thick, rough structure of iron was a sword. Its white blade shone in the reflection of the snow and sun, its hilt swirling like flames and sun down into the maroon handle.

Baoshan Sanren’s breath hitched as she squeezed her hand around the handle tighter. In an instance, the sword shattered into small pieces. She collected the fragments into a floating ball above her hand before it had a chance to touch the ground. With an immense amount of spiritual energy, she melted the fragments until they were purely liquid.

Then, she scattered the remains around her, embedded molten metal into the bamboo stalks and into the now-sizzling snow. Buye, who had run over to Baoshan Sanren’s side before the sword’s destruction, was now running off into the distance, disappearing into the sea of bamboo.

“I cannot linger here for too long. I only came for Buye.” Baoshan Sanren closed her eyes, “Your golden core seems to be developing well, so do not come to the mountain anymore.”

Wei Wuxian dipped his head, and Lan Wangji did the same. Within the blink of an eye, the immortal wanderer had disappeared, leaving only her stationary footprints in the snow and the cooled iron embedded in the bamboo.

Wei Wuxian looked down at the hand that once held Xuanwu, a small pink mark where the grooves of the handle had dug into his palm, “She didn’t say why the Shield Reminiscent of a Face was following her.”

Lan Wangji exhaled softly, “You once said that she and Emperor Wen Mao used to be friends, along with Empress Lan Yi.”

Wei Wuxian connected the dots, “Are you suggesting that Wen Mao sent the Shield Reminiscent of a Face to protect her, instead of Qishan or Gusu? How did you get that?”

Lan Wangji wasn’t sure how to tell him.

Baoshan Sanren had watched everything that transpired between Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, and he figured that she perhaps linked it with the way Emperor Wen Mao treated and regarded her. It wasn’t only the Lan lineage that had obsessions, after all.

Lan Wangji figured that the sword that had formed Xuanwu’s core must’ve been Emperor Wen Mao’s personal sword. He had heard that in the waning years of his life, he reverted fully to wicked spells and talismans, carrying only the sheath. It was said that he claimed that his eternally unsheathed sword represented an everlasting war.

Lan Wangji never thought that Emperor Wen Mao would’ve done this. Of course, perhaps it was just an illusion of Baoshan Sanren’s deepest regret.

Wei Wuxian was still waiting for an answer, so Lan Wangji could only say:

“When one has the choice to protect either their hometown or their loved one, they would choose the latter.”

Chapter 35: those ruby-encrusted memories

Chapter Text

The Cloud Recesses spent the next few months in simultaneous celebration and stress.

Not only was there Lan Wangji’s coronation to consider, but also Wei Wuxian’s marriage to him as the first empress of the new Lan Dynasty. The wedding had to be extravagant according to Lan Wangji’s orders: ornate and rich, teeming with the wealth of the nation and the treasures that Wei Wuxian would bring to the dynasty with his instatement into the Inner Palace.

But his coronation, according to quite literally everyone else in the palace, could not be outshined. After all, it was the Emperor of China’s big moment—how could anything top it? According to Lan Wangji, only his wedding to Wei Wuxian.

Because a highly auspicious date was coming up, Lan Wangji wanted both his coronation and wedding to be on the same day.

Nie Huaisang, as Director of Logistics, had his hands fuller than ever before, unsure of why he was bestowed with such a horrible punishment as this. He had to cleave the budget in half to accommodate both events, but Lan Wangji’s demands for its extravagance far exceeded what was available in the treasury.

What happened to the modesty that the Lan doctrine preached?!

Nie Huaisang huffed. It was likely because of Wei Wuxian. If it weren’t for the entire palace’s insistence, Lan Wangji would’ve happily accepted a modest coronation if it meant that his wedding would be grand.

On top of the literal Emperor of China’s pressure, Lan Xichen was also supporting his brother in his too-rich endeavors.

In his exhausted daze, Nie Huaisang decided to take a break. His vision was swimming as he ripped it away from the fund allocation proposal that he was proof-reading.

He began to recall a memory from years ago, when the Cloud Recesses was still Jinlintai. He had stared at the letter in his hands, face wan and hands trembling.

The news had spread in Jinlintai of the Nie Sect’s sudden change in leadership. Nie Huaisang was to remain in Jinlintai, but was given an entry pass to be able to visit Qinghe whenever he was needed.

In other words, Nie Huaisang had been expected to continue on with his work as if nothing happened.

Day by day, sheet by sheet, log by log. Brushes snapped and ink spilled. Nie Huaisang couldn’t quite concentrate.

His grip on his fan tightened.

Poison.

Poison?

The Qinghe Nie Sect was not materialistic—they only took in gifts from Jinlintai, never demanding anything. This was corroborated when Nie Huaisang visited Qinghe to tie up loose ends. The logbook of gifts, both received and given, only showed that the then-Prince Jin Zixuan’s shipment of supplements had been sent.

Nie Huaisang couldn’t forget the stench that his brother’s corpse gave off, brimming with resentment and the smell of the poison.

The day he returned to Jinlintai with his brother’s belongings after the funeral, he wore all-white as he worked. That day, the then-Prince Jin Guangyao came to visit to ask about a shipment as usual. Nie Huaisang thought nothing of it until he caught a whiff of something quite rancid.

Nie Huaisang didn’t think much of it until the prince had asked about the then-Prince Jin Xuanyu’s shipment of tea, “The sixth prince asked me to come add this to the tea leaves in his latest shipment before you sent it off to the Blooming Garden. It’s a supplemental powder that he found in Gusu—high-quality and very effective according to customer reviews.”

Nie Huaisang had noticed that the smell came from the vial that the prince was holding, and he finally connected it.

His brother’s corpse.

Nie Huaisang had closed his eyes and forced a small smile, “If Your Highness demands of it, then who am I to oppose?”

Nie Huaisang had pointed to the box that was about to be delivered, keeping his eyes closed until the prince left.

In his research, he found that the poison that killed Nie Mingjue was a slow-acting one—dainty dosages spanning for years. With Prince Jin Zixuan’s regular shipments of tea, it was the perfect frame and cover.

On Prince Jin Xuanyu’s third shipment, Nie Huaisang added a faster-acting poison: one with similar ingredients to Prince Jin Guangyao’s. His perfect frame and cover.

He had no fond memories of Emperor Qingling, having worked like a dog under his reign with little reward in the most mind-numbing, tedious department that Jinlintai had to offer. Thus, he added it with very little hesitation or remorse, having found that his heart had hardened much more compared to years ago.

After all, he had taken it upon himself to deliberately spread the Ballad of Guanyin’s Tears, as he was a lover of poetry. With some spiritual butterflies that acted as surveillance, Nie Huaisang was able to gather information about the Scroll of Guanyin and fashion the ballad in a way that would become an earworm in the Jin royals’ minds.

It was only then that he realized that Wei Wuxian was there. Not able to be seen, but still very much there. Nie Huaisang held no grudges towards him, and so had kept his mouth shut and his disposition clueless.

Back in the present world, he looked at his brother’s pendant, one that he used to wear on his belt. It was a childhood gift from Nie Huaisang, when he was very little.

He closed his eyes again.

In another, more recent memory, he remembered the then-Emperor Lan Xichen’s sudden declaration of seclusion. Nie Huaisang had noticed that he was quite close with Jin Guangyao, having given him the lightest possible punishment for the crime of an emperor’s assassination. Perhaps Lan Xichen believed that Jin Guangyao could start a new life, a complete reset in a different country.

Nie Huaisang held no such belief.

If he were to believe in anything, it would be karma—both for himself and Jin Guangyao.

When all of the paperwork for fund allocation and material orders had been completed and double-checked, Nie Huaisang turned in his resignation papers.

He claimed that he just wasn’t cut out for palace work, assuring that he would be there to attend the coronation and wedding, but only as the Qinghe Nie Sect Leader.

The remnant symptoms of Fleeting Reverie had soon left Lan Wangji’s system. Although he never showed it on his face, Wei Wuxian had been with him long enough to see that he was relieved to be free from the burden. The nightly bouts of withdrawal couldn’t be good for anyone, no matter how strong Lan Wangji was.

When the day of the coronation came, Wei Wuxian was whisked away to decide on last-minute decisions as well as receive wedding gifts from the concubines, who had happily taken to becoming five onlookers to the happy couple’s basically-monogamous relationship.

Li Jianping gifted them a donkey, fully decked out in all of the marriage decor. Wei Wuxian named it Little Apple, for the way it would always follow the scent of apples.

Sun Fenghua, having taken well to the medicine, gifted Wei Wuxian both a marriage present and a thank-you gift: a large amount of rare artifacts and expensive supplements. Not only had her condition been improved with Wei Wuxian’s recommendation to Wen Qing, but Xiaoguan’s water scarcity issue was being addressed with just a few words from Wei Wuxian to Lan Wangji.

He Guiying’s hair began to grow out, much longer than from when she had entered the palace. She gifted bolts of brocade and jewelry, saying that it wasn’t much in expensiveness nor symbolism, but it was all she could give.

Rong Liwen gifted numerous paintings of Wei Wuxian in various poses and outfits. In some, he was dressed in the traditional empress wear—in others, he wore military armor equal to that of his war prowess. In others, he wore the simple everyday robes, signifying his whimsical and fresh nature.

Finally, Fu Cuifen—a woman with simple values—treated Wei Wuxian to lunch and gave him fruit, wishing for a bountiful and healthy life. Though she had very little money to give or spend, Wei Wuxian appreciated it just the same as all of the other gifts.

Wei Wuxian returned to the Rimefrost Villa with armfuls of gifts, making it to the Frost Palace just in time for the coronation.

The coronation was to be held in the afternoon, and the wedding shortly after. From a distance, Wei Wuxian smiled as he saw Lan Wangji’s stiff figure—obviously anticipating the wedding he had dreamed of ever since that morning in the snowy bamboo forest.

With only Lan Xichen as a direct relative, he was the one to officially crown Lan Wangji as Emperor of China. All of the usual coronation rites were performed, and all of the officials and guests bowed as deeply as possible in acknowledgement of the “new” leader.

Wei Wuxian, in a nebulous area with his official title (was he an advisor? a concubine? a bodyguard?), was eventually placed near the back of the formation with the other five concubines, kneeling just outside the doors of the main hall.

When he picked up his head, although he couldn’t clearly see Lan Wangji, he could still feel a piercing gaze directed straight for him.

He was then whisked away to another room to prepare for the wedding.

Although Wei Wuxian was allowed to wear the traditionally masculine wedding robes, he was still required to wear a veil since he would be taking the position of empress. Although it was quite a clashing sight to see, it felt comfortable.

Wei Wuxian took a deep breath. This was also his wedding. Doubts should not be plaguing him, and he especially shouldn’t be allowing the hypothetical gossip of others to ruin it.

What if he messed up? Wei Wuxian wouldn’t be able to bear it.

The robes were heavy—beaded with gold and consisting of endless layers. The headpiece he wore was larger and grandiose, fit for the future Empress of China. The makeup he wore was nothing transforming—simply accentuating his features with thin layers of rouge.

It was all such a foreign and unreal feeling.

In the blink of an eye, he found himself bowing three times, drinking the wine with interlocked arms, all of the normal wedding rites. Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli were in the front row alongside the juniors and Lan Xichen, visible just from the corner of Wei Wuxian’s eyes.

The wedding was as magnificent as Lan Wangji wanted it to be, lasting longer than his coronation and with an even bigger budget allotment. When he reached the consummation room, draped in translucent reds and candlelight, Wei Wuxian was still processing everything.

He was married to Lan Wangji, Lan Zhan, the Emperor of China amongst other infuriatingly long and important titles.

“Wei Ying.”

The pearls of Wei Wuxian’s headdress clinked together as he turned to look up at Lan Wangji through the veil. Hadn’t the palace maids just been here to set up the room and straighten out Wei Wuxian’s robes so he looked presentable?

Then again, knowing Lan Wangji, maybe he was impatient and had shooed them all away while Wei Wuxian was in a daze.

The veil was lifted, slowly removing the red sheen over Wei Wuxian’s vision. Wei Wuxian looked up at Lan Wangji, right into those beautiful golden eyes.

Lan Wangji lowered himself onto the bed, holding Wei Wuxian gingerly as he laid him down at the same time. It was a similar position to all of the other past times, only now they were clad in ceremonial reds and much, much more nervous.

Wei Wuxian reached up, cupping Lan Wangji’s jaw as his thumb ran over a light scar, “One day, I’ll paint you, and it’ll be the prettiest painting you’ll ever see.”

“Mn.” A trembling answer.

Wei Wuxian laughed, his other thumb coming up to wipe away the building tears from Lan Wangji’s face, “You’re a big crybaby, aren’t you?”

“Mn.”

Wei Wuxian laughed again, harmonizing with the soft bells that hung around the room. Holding the Emperor of China’s face, Wei Wuxian pulled him down with a kiss.

It was a messy kiss—teeth clacking and lips moving in confused directions. It was clear that neither of them knew how to kiss, but to them, it hardly mattered. Lan Wangji was clearly overheating with euphoria, and Wei Wuxian was drinking up the affection.

When they pulled away, Lan Wangji’s earlobes glowed red. Wei Wuxian brought down a hand to his lips, “Zhan-er, you beast! You really bit me!”

That statement seemed to only light a fire as Lan Wangji dove in, tongue licking the bite mark as he went to deepen the kiss.

“Your Majesty, those robes were laundered just the other day!!”

“Mianmian, you’re always no fun!” Wei Wuxian laughed as he continued to strip down to his inner robes, “It’s the summer now, and there’s a perfectly good spring right here!”

Luo Qingyang, having been promoted from head maid in Jinlintai to Wei Wuxian’s lady-in-waiting, stomped comfortably, “Your Majesty, at least give the robes to me!”

But Wei Wuxian couldn’t be bothered, throwing the robes aside. When he was stripped down to his white under-robes, he waded into the freezing water, shivering with a wide grin.

Luo Qingyang was in the middle of picking up the robes, coming up with more ways to scold Wei Wuxian until a shadow enveloped the ground in front of her. She looked up, seeing Lan Wangji standing in front of her.

Luo Qingyang immediately dropped into a bow, “Your Majesty!”

Lan Wangji allowed her to be at ease before taking off his own robes, neatly handing them to Jiahao. Wei Wuxian was still grinning, but grinned even wider upon seeing Lan Wangji, “Ah, Zhan-er, you’re done with your work now?”

“Mn.” Lan Wangji waded into the water without flinching at the sudden temperature change.

Wei Wuxian splashed over to his side, to which the emperor admonished lightly, “Do not purposefully make a commotion in water.”

Wei Wuxian sighed exasperatedly, “Zhan-er, was work really that bad? Here, turn around, I’ll massage you, and then you’ll be in a better mood, okay?”

“No need.”

“Come on!” Wei Wuxian cried out, “And to think that I just gave you a portrait the other day!”

Wei Wuxian thought for a moment before leaning in, “Say, why did you like my portrait so much better than the other ones?”

“Because Wei Ying painted it.”

Wei Wuxian giddily laughed again, “Zhan-er, so smooth! Who told you that you could be this romantic, hm?”

“You did.”

“So I did!” Wei Wuxian’s hands traced up Lan Wangji’s exposed arms, “I’m glad that you stopped hiding your battle wounds.”

“Why?”

“They’re quite pretty, aren’t they?” Wei Wuxian beamed, “A testament to your actions that morning, a reminder of your love. Say, how come it took me so long to realize? Your love was staring me right in the face all those months.”

Lan Wangji said nothing, allowing the cold fog to kiss at their skin, simply looking into Wei Wuxian’s beautiful smile.

The golden age of the martial world was the rise of the new Lan Dynasty, an era of everlasting peace after the piece of work that the Jin Dynasty was.

Thus marked the completion of Lan Wangji’s and Wei Wuxian’s coincidental first purpose in life, with the finish line between the distinct separation between the living realm and the realm of ghosts.

But now, their fates had become intertwined, their bond bound to only result in prosperity and happiness for the decades to come.

So their second purposes—to live happy, fulfilled lives together—had once again lined up, never to divert from one another ever again.