Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He could still smell the stink of smoke on his robes, through the grime. Even though he ached, for his brother and his uncle, for their library and their quiet home, even though he ached and his lips cracked with thirst and his leg throbbed with every heartbeat and every step, and the smell of smoke chased him like the Wens with their jeering cries had chased him, he pressed himself against the wall of the alley and held still and silent.

They wouldn’t kill him if they captured him. He knew that.

They would never kill such a valuable hostage as the Second Young Master of the Gusu Lan sect.

Not when his older brother had already slipped their net.

If it came to that, he might prefer to kill himself first.

“You runnin’ from the dogs?”

There was a kid on the roof.

He was curled up next to the puffing chimney, soot staining the dimples in his cheeks. His clothes, dark enough not to show dirt easily, were a size too big and well-worn at the seams. From his rosy cheeks, he’d probably climbed up the roof to steal warmth from the chimney.

“Come on, I’ll help you up!” he whispered, sliding forward and offering his… foot?

Lan Wangji frowned.

“Come ooooooon,” the kid urged, “it’s too far to lean over!”

Lan Wangji supposed that was true.

Especially since the kid had wrapped his arms around the chimney to support his weight.

With a scowl, he pressed himself forward, jumped from his good leg, and grabbed onto the dirtiest ankle he’d ever had the displeasure of seeing.

With a grunt, the kid pulled himself backward, straining until Lan Wangji could reach the rooftop and pull himself up. He pressed forward, scrambling as a few shingles began to shift beneath him. The other boy grabbed his shoulder and pressed down.

“Wha--” abruptly, he was squished flat. The boy unlaced his dark overrobe and spread it over the two of them.

“Shh!” he whispered, squirming until he could pull the robe over both their heads. “They’re comin’!”

Lan Wangji’s eyes widened as the complete stranger tucked in closer and shoved his cold nose against his shoulder.

“What are you--” he hissed, before the kid’s grimy hand found its way over his mouth.

“Stay. Still.”

Lan Wangji froze as the whispered words puffed against the side of his neck. He held his breath. The other boy lay tense against his side, short breaths warming Lan Wangji’s trembling shoulders.

Heavy footsteps traced the entrance of the alley, accompanied by the huffing pants of an excited animal.

Lan Wangji could feel his heart hammering against his ribs. The other boy’s hand tightened across his mouth, even though he had no intention of talking.

The dog sniffed loudly and started whining. The footsteps paused.

Lan Wangji shut his eyes. His fists clenched.

He felt the other kid’s breath quicken, his ribs pressing sharply against Lan Wangji’s own.

The footsteps sounded again, growing distant. Heading out of the alleyway.

Lan Wangji lay still, even after they’d gone.

The other kid rolled over, pulling his robe back around his waist and tying it haphazardly. His shoulders started to shake.

Lan Wangji looked at him askance.

“Pffffff- ahahahAHAHA!” The kid curled up, resting one hand on his stomach while he used the other to smack at Lan Wangji’s shoulders. “Tha' was close!” he giggled.

Lan Wangji was starting to think he’d been saved by a madman.

“... Thank you.” He bowed as best he could while seated and prepared to make his way down.

“Wait wait wait!” The kid grabbed at his sleeve before he could shift away. “If you go down like that, you’re just gonna get caught, y’know!”

Lan Wangji looked down at himself and back at the kid, raising an eyebrow.

The kid propped himself up on his elbows and gave him a blatant once-over, obviously holding back laughter. “You’re wearin’ all white, genius. Even if ya scuff it up a bit and take off the girly ribbon--” Lan Wangji scowled reflexively-- “no one 'round here wears stuff that nice.”

Lan Wangji had to admit he had a point.

About the color, not the ribbon.

He cleared his throat.

“So?”

“Man, you’re a chatterbox!” The kid grinned and pushed to his feet, balancing easily on the sloped roof. Lan Wangji changed his estimate of the boy's age-- he wasn't as short as he'd seemed at first, nearly reaching Lan Wangji's chin. That dimpled face had no trace of baby fat. “So, I can help you get a change. An’ a place to sleep tonight, looks like ya need it.” He laughed, but his gaze was kind. “Promise I don’t snore. Whaddya say?”

Lan Wangji gazed at him steadily. The teen stared back, unflinching.

“Name?”

“Wei Ying!” The teen-- Wei Ying-- seemed to take that for acquiescence. He held out a hand to pull Lan Wangji.

It was just barely cleaner than his ankle had been.

Lan Wangji sighed but accepted the hand up. He scowled as his leg twinged again.

“Didja get hurt or something? Or is that just what your face does?” Wei Ying asked curiously. His eyes flicked from Lan Wangji's leg to his grimacing face. “Uh… guy? My man? Don’ look at me like that, it makes me think you’re wonderin’ if you should shove me off the roof.”

Lan Wangji rolled his eyes. “Lan Wang--” Not good, his courtesy name was well-known, even this far away from Gusu. “Lan Zhan.”

“What?” The teen had started to pick his way to a different corner of the roof, where a trellis of dead vines was leaning. Evidently, that was how he’d gotten up.

“My name. Lan Zhan.”

“Okay, Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying had a way of chirping his sentences when he was happy, so Lan Zhan could almost see his cheeky grin without looking. “It's only a few minutes to my flop, you’re gonna love it.” He began to shimmy down the trellis, jumping to the ground halfway down.

Lan Zhan looked dubiously at the flimsy wooden structure, and sat at the edge of the roof instead.

“Ya gonna jump down?” Wei Ying held out his arms teasingly. “I’ll catch you, Lan Zhan!”

Lan Zhan sighed and twisted to grab at the rooftop with both hands, swinging down to hang straight. He let go and fell into a crouch, hissing as his left thigh pulsed and began to throb with pain.

“Aww…” Wei Ying dropped his hands and pouted, then moved forward to peer down at Lan Zhan’s red face. “You are hurt, aren’tcha? Want me to carry you? It’s not that far, Lan Zhan!”

Wei Ying had said his name more often in the past five minutes than his brother had said it in the past two years.

“Idiot,” Lan Zhan muttered.

Wei Ying grinned, before grabbing his arm to sling over his shoulders. “Fine, I’ll be your crutch, then! You can muss up your hair a bit. Actually--” he used his free hand to pull half of Lan Zhan’s hair over his face, causing the boy to sputter and glare at him. “There, now jus' make sure to stumble a bit when you walk and everyone will think I’m just helpin'  ya get home from the tavern.”

He spoke like this was a common occurrence.

Lan Zhan didn’t really want to think about why this grinning, sunny-faced stranger would be proficient at carrying drunk people home.

With great forbearance, he allowed his hair to hang into his face, and leaned against Wei Ying’s bony shoulders.

“Now you just need to lose the ribbon! Makes ya look like one of those Gusu Goody-Goodies,” Wei Ying whispered, gleeful.

Lan Zhan pinched his shoulder sharply.

“No,” he muttered.

“Fine, no need ta shout,” Wei Ying muttered, a smile deepening his dimples. Lan Zhan tore his gaze away and focused on hobbling.

“One drunken trip home, comin' up!”

“Shut up.”

“Never! Ahahaha-- ow, ow, why?”

Lan Zhan let up on the pinched shoulder. “Shut. Up.”

He could already tell it would be a long walk to Wei Ying’s ‘flop.’

Chapter Text

“Lihua-jiejie! Your new ribbon looks amazin'! And Mingzhu-jiejie, is that a new rouge?” 

Wei Ying greeted every single woman they passed by name. Some of them laughed and leaned forward to pinch at his cheeks. 

Lan Zhan kept his face down and clenched Wei Ying’s shoulder tighter as they walked further into the winding dark alleys.

Why. Of all places.

“Aaaaaaaand we’re here!” Wei Ying gestured at the run-down building with pride. Lan Zhan hissed as the movement jostled his leg. “Oops, sorry! Jus' hold on for a bit longer…”

Lan Zhan pressed his lips tightly together as they entered the building, wrinkling his nose at the stained tables and the reek of rice wine. Wei Ying led him over to a seat near the kitchen and settled him there before bustling off without a word.

Lan Zhan dropped his head into his hands.

Of all places. Why. Why did it have to be next to a brothel.

He jerked back upright as Wei Ying re-entered the room, carrying a bundle of dark cloth and a cup of water.

Wei Ying placed the water on the table and tossed the clothing onto Lan Zhan’s lap.

“It’ll be a bit big, but it’s better’n those fancy digs.” Wei Ying flapped a hand at Lan Zhan in a ‘hurry up’ gesture. “NaiNai’s out for the day, but when she gets back she c’n take a look at your leg.”

His grandmother lived here? Here?

Lan Zhan tentatively opened the bundle of clothing, holding back a scowl as he looked at the well-worn blue robe and black pants with ragged seams. It was obviously intended for someone much larger than either him or Wei Ying.

He shot a glance at the boy lounging against the table. Could this be his father’s--

“Shushu left it, said I’d grow into it,” Wei Ying answered, reading the question on Lan Zhan’s face. “C’mon, we don’t got all day.”

Lan Zhan scowled but began unlacing his over-robe. Wei Ying, apparently deciding to be helpful, reached for the ribbon on his forehead.

Smack!

“Ow, what the--” Wei Ying blew on his smarting fingers. “I wasn’t gonna steal it, Lan Zhan,” he complained, aggrieved. 

“Don’t take it off,” Lan Zhan ordered coldly. He threaded his arms into the dark robe and noted with surprise that it smelled only like incense and dust.

“Lan Zhan.” For once, Wei Ying’s voice was entirely serious. “If you’re runnin’ away, you gotta change everythin’ they’re lookin’ for. That,” he jabbed a finger at Lan Zhan’s forehead, “is a great big ‘Come ‘n Get Me.’”

Lan Zhan scowled at him. “It doesn’t. Come. Off.”

Wei Ying rolled his eyes. Lan Zhan regarded him for a moment, then sighed and stood up to change his trousers. As he balanced on his good leg, quick fingers swiped at the back of his head.

For a moment, he could only stand there, stock-still, as the ribbon of his sect loosened from his forehead where it belonged and fluttered free.

His fists clenched.

“Wei. Ying.”

His jaw hurt with how tightly his teeth gritted.

Nimble fingers grabbed his right arm and wrapped tightly around his wrist. He could only stand there as Wei Ying gently guided the ribbon into a loose bracelet, tying the ends off in a bow.

“There. Now you c’n tell people it’s a gift from your girl or somethin’,” Wei Ying said, patting Lan Zhan’s hand. 

He blithely ignored how the other boy was still trembling with rage.

“Drink your water an’ I’ll set you up in the kitchen, yeah?” he continued, pushing the cup closer to Lan Zhan’s side. He gathered the white robes from where Lan Zhan had set them on the neighboring stool and skipped-- skipped!-- back to what Lan Zhan had to assume was the kitchen.

Lan Zhan shut his eyes tightly, took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Wangji, control your breath and you can control your emotions. Breathe and then decide what it is you want.” His brother’s voice, a soothing lecture he’d perfected over years of dealing with a younger sibling who always lost his words when he lost his temper.

He controlled his breathing. His trembling, tense fists gradually loosened.

He glared at the ribbon around his wrist, half-heartedly. Wei Ying… had a point. 

The Wens wouldn’t expect one of the Twin Jades of Gusu Lan to remove his ribbon.

And even though Wei Ying had, had touched it, had tied it on Lan Zhan’s wrist --

He had no idea what it meant. He couldn’t have any idea what it meant.

Lan Zhan pursed his lips and pressed his hand against the ribbon he’d worn his entire life.

Tied around his wrist, the cloud pattern was barely visible. It looked like… well, like a ribbon someone important had decided to tie around his wrist. A token.

It was a good thing Wei Ying was still in the other room, or else he might have seen the Second Twin Jade of the Gusu Lan sect staring straight at his wrist, ears burning a deep crimson.

Chapter Text

“Didja bring another ducklin’ home, brat?” Wei Ying’s Nai Nai barely walked into the kitchen before she started shouting. Lan Zhan flinched from his seat next to the fire.

“Aw, c’mon, Nai Nai~ it’s just a night... an’ he c’n ‘elp in the kitchen!” For some reason, Wei Ying’s accent thickened considerably as he approached the stooped older woman to take some of the weight of her purchases from her shoulders.

Lan Zhan hastily stood up as she walked closer, bowing deeply. The woman snorted.

“Jus’ fer the night? ‘E better be gone in th’ mornin, then, or I’ll make ‘im ‘elp wi’ th’ bakin’,” she muttered, before setting the rest of her purchases on the low table. The towering stack of zhēnglóng were shoved in Lan Zhan’s direction. 

He blinked.

Nai Nai smirked at Wei Ying. “Is yer boy simple?” she asked.

Wei Ying laughed, bringing a hand to card through his mussed hair. “Ahaha, nope! Don’ worry, Nai Nai, I’ll get ‘im used to the kitchen afore I clean up!”

The woman smacked him on the shoulder, not unkindly, and made her slow, stooped walk back towards the common area. “Get th’ tea goin’ too, brat!” she called over her shoulder.

Lan Zhan glanced at the bamboo steamers and back at Wei Ying. His gaze demanded an explanation.

“Ah....” Wei Ying looked away, grinning sheepishly. “Nai Nai’s just… like that. I’ll help ya set ‘em up to steam, and if you jus’ watch the pot, she’ll let ya stay the night?” 

Lan Zhan raised an eyebrow. That seemed like a fairly low price to rent a room.

“Um. She’ll let ya stay the night here. ” Wei Ying pointed at a corner near the fire where, Lan Zhan could see now, a small pile of blankets lay folded next to a few burlap sacks of rice. “...With me.” Wei Ying added, cringing slightly.

Lan Zhan frowned .

Wei Ying raised his hands defensively. “Unless you wanna sleep on the streets! But it’s cold, an’ yer leg’s hurt, an’ you probly don’t know the safe places t’ go! An’ there’s dogs ,” he added, like that was the most important point.

He was right, though. It would be much easier for the Wen’s trackers to find him out in the open than holed away in some old lady’s kitchen. Even if he had to… share.

Lan Zhan glowered, but nodded. His leg gave a warning twinge.

“Okay, phew!” Wei Ying grinned with blatant relief. “I thought I was gonna hafta sit on ya!”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan decided to ignore his companion’s rude asides. “The food.”

“Right!” Without further ado, the other teen ran out of the room and returned with a heavy pail of water.

“Look,” Wei Ying poured a generous dollop of water into a large pot and set it above the fire. “Once it boils, put a coupla’ the zhēnglóng on, an’ keep th’ water from climbin’ or sinkin’ too much. Keep ‘em on for a quarter hour, then switch ‘em out. With some mitts on!” He moved the stool closer to the fire, presumably to make it easier for Lan Zhan to watch the food. “Okay, I gotta clean up a bit. Shout if ya need somethin’!”

Lan Zhan looked dubiously at the boy’s back, then at the towering stack of zhēnglóng waiting to be steamed. The water in the pot began to simmer.

...The closest he’d ever come to baking was when his brother helped him make porridge for their mother.

They’d burnt the bottom of the pot black.

Their mother had eaten it anyway, black bits and all.

The fire hissed as he sat heavily on the stool.

He hoped Wei Ying returned quickly.

----------

Wei Ying wet the edge of his sleeve and scrubbed at his face, his ears, the back of his neck. Nai Nai hated it when he went to help out at the stables, but the horses were always happy to see him. At least he’d picked out most of the horse-hairs from his shirt when he left.

His feet were a lost cause, but that was fine. No one at the bar would be looking at his feet. He rinsed his hands and scrubbed at his palms and fingernails before he was satisfied. Then he pulled his hair back, wetted his bangs to flatten them, and pulled the whole mess into a bun. Mingzhu-jiejie’s old ribbon might have a few, well, most of its threads coming loose, but he liked the deep red of it enough that it didn’t matter.

Tying his hair made him think of Lan Zhan’s ribbon. It was pretty much luck he’d seen the other boy at all from his roof-- he’d been watching for falcons, after all, not runaway Gusu Lan boys. It was pure luck the other boy had trusted him enough to follow him here instead of trying to strike out on his own. News of what the Wens did to the Gusu Lan sect had traveled slow, but gossip mostly traveled with wine.

Wei Ying wasn’t sure whether it was luck or fate that let him be the one to pull one of the Gusu Lan disciples out from under the nose of the Wens, but he was certain of one thing.

If that boy was headed to meet up with the rest of his sect, Wei Ying was damn well going with him.

Chapter Text

Lan Zhan kept his eyes firmly on the line of bubbling water at the base of the zhēnglóng. He rested his first two fingers against the pulse at the base of his left wrist, breathing steadily and deeply.

“Whatcha doin’?”

Wei Ying could have asked the question while standing at Lan Zhan’s side. Like a normal person.

Instead of draped across Lan Zhan’s back, chin almost digging into his shoulder as he peered into the pot.

Lan Zhan raised a hand to push him off.

Wei Ying’s laughter brushed against Lan Zhan’s loose bangs as he skipped backwards.

Lan Zhan frowned at him, trying to steady his galloping heartbeat. “...Counting,” he responded, after a beat.

Wei Ying’s bright eyes flicked between his hands and the bubbling pot. “Counting-- you were usin’ your heartbeat to count time?”

Lan Zhan sighed and nodded. Unconsciously, his eyes followed the minute changes of Wei Ying’s expression-- his eyes widening in surprise, the dimples deepening in his cheeks, the arch of his neck as he threw back his head and laughed--

He’d only known the boy a few hours, but he could already tell Wei Ying laughed a lot.

Usually at him.

Lan Zhan’s pulse refused to calm.

Wei Ying paused, taking in Lan Zhan’s disgruntled expression. He took a few deep breaths, tamping down his smile. “You’re a good’un,” he informed Lan Zhan, wiping at his eyes.

Lan Zhan looked away.

His ears felt hot.

“I was jus’ comin’ in to say people’ll be comin’ in soon. I’ll bring ‘em food an’ drinks, you jus’ stay here an’ keep up the pot, yeah?”

Lan Zhan nodded. Wei Ying patted him on the shoulder and headed back to the front room, still grinning.

Lan Zhan’s pulse didn’t completely settle for a while.

---------

It was easy to fall into a routine, once he concentrated fully. Watch the water level in the pot, adding more boiling water when it fell too low. Feed the fire. Remove the zhēnglóng once he’d counted a full quarter hour, stacking them on the counter so Wei Ying could grab them easily when he scampered back into the kitchen, hands full of dirty dishes, flyaway bits of hair sticking against his forehead and temples as he grinned and chirped a thank you.

He could hear the conversations in the front room as a somewhat irritating muddle of sound occasionally interrupted by Wei Ying’s bright laughter and shouts for more wine. He could sit beside the crackling fire, breathe deeply the scent of wood smoke and steamed dumplings, clear his mind forcefully of the worry for his brother and his uncle, the sharp dread that tomorrow he’d again be alone and on the run.

“--Wens are looking for a boy,” a drunken voice slurred. “Stole sumthin’, I heard. They’ll give a r’ward for anyone who’s seen ‘im.”

“Lookin’ for a boy? Where’d you hear that, uncle?” Wei Ying’s voice was surprisingly high, sounding genuinely surprised.

Lan Zhan’s hands clenched.

“Nah, I heard they’re lookin’ for a girl!” The boy continued. “A real pretty one, she was promised to a Wen but ran away with ‘er lover!”

“I don’ blame ‘er,” a woman’s voice overrode the rising tide of laughter. “Have you seen the dog-faced bastards runnin’ around town today? I hope she runs far ‘n fast!”

Lan Zhan released the breath he’d been holding, as the laughter died down. He’d barely managed to subdue his scowl when Wei Ying walked back into the room, dumping an arm-load of empty zhēnglóng on the table.

“Jus’ a bit longer, then we c’n wash all these an’ go to bed,” the other boy promised, brow wrinkled as he met Lan Zhan’s eyes. “Yer leg still hurt?”

Lan Zhan’s eyes softened slightly at the concern.

“...It’s fine,” he muttered.

“You sure? Cuz I can ask Lihua-jiejie for somethin’ for the pain, if it’s bad,” Wei Ying offered, frowning.

“No need,” Lan Zhan refuted. “Out there. Why did you say that?”

Wei Ying cocked his head to the side, quizzical.

“About the Wens.”

“Oh! That they’re lookin’ for a girl?” Wei Ying grinned, foxlike. “Two reasons. So anyone lookin’ for a reward’ll look in the wrong places AND,” he puffed up his chest, proudly, “cuz people like a love story!”

Lan Zhan snorted. They didn’t sound like very good reasons.

“No, really! People’d be happy to catch a thief but c’mon! Who wants ta make a pretty girl unhappy?” Wei Ying nodded, satisfied. “Plus, no one really likes the Wens ‘round here. This’ll just give ‘em one more reason not ta help!”

Lan Zhan gave up on expecting sense out of the other teen. Still…

“...Thank you,” he murmured.

Wei Ying grinned, that wide smile that started small and carved his dimples deep.

“Any time, Lan Zhan!” He looked ready to say something else, but a shout from the front room distracted him. “...Jus’ a little longer an’ they’ll head out,” he promised, winking as he loaded his arms with another tray of wine.

Lan Zhan nodded and watched him leave, the ragged ends of his red ribbon tapping the back of his neck as he strode away.

He doubted he would ever understand Wei Ying.

Chapter Text

Lan Zhan had his head propped against his hand, blinking slowly when Wei Ying finally carried the last of the dirty plates into the kitchen.

He was blinking very slowly.

“Lie down if you’re gonna sleep, Lan Zhan.”

He was blinking very slowly, but he was not. Asleep.

“Seriously, man, pull up a sack.” Gentle hands chivvied him off the stool and into the corner, where he was covered with a blanket. “I just gotta wash the gunk off the dishes and the stink outta my hair and I’ll join ya.”

He did not wish to be joined.

“Well, tough titties, cuz that patch of floor is the softest bit and you’re on my favorite sack.”

He did not…

He dreamed.

His hands were small and full of flowers, flowers and his brother’s pudgy hand. They were at his mother’s door.

Everywhere else was on fire.

He and his brother knocked at his mother’s door, hands full of flowers. There was screaming. She opened the door.

He and his brother were standing at his mother’s door, years after she died. Hands full of flowers. The door didn’t open.

The wind, or her voice, asked, “Tell me, where did the fire start?”

…

He awoke at five. Half of his body was cold, nipped by the morning chill.

The other half was, well, Wei Ying’s pillow apparently. The other boy’s face was buried in the crook of his shoulder, which. Lan Zhan shifted uncomfortably.

Yes, that was definitely a wet patch against his shoulder. Ugh.

He shifted again, irritable.

Wei Ying shivered.

His shoulders were shaking.

Lan Zhan’s eyebrows shot up. Was he—?

Very carefully, he raised his arm and lifted the curtain of hair from the other boy’s face.

Just as carefully, he lowered it again. He could have gotten up, or shoved Wei Ying to the side so he could stretch and start hunting for hot tea. He could have ignored the quaking shoulders and the damp patch spreading against his collar.

Except he couldn’t have, because he’d only met Wei Ying a day ago and he might not know him at all, but he did know, now, that the sunshine smile didn’t mean his life was happy.

Lan Zhan breathed slowly, deeply, the scent of woodsmoke and burlap and morning. He lay one arm, gently, gradually, across Wei Ying’s trembling shoulders.

And he waited, for the other boy to stop crying in his sleep.

Chapter Text

Wei Ying woke up, skin tight around his eyes and a heavy feeling in the pit of his throat. He nuzzled into his pillow with a sigh, trying to exhale that lingering, fragile ache from his lungs. He’d take three more breaths and then get up.

… His pillow was breathing. From Wei Ying’s admittedly limited experience, pillows didn’t tend to do that. Plus, the fire had definitely gone out overnight, but he was still warm. Shoulders aching, hair a tangled mess he already knew he’d have to wrestle with a comb to fix, but comfortably warm.

Huh.

There was an arm across his shoulders too, a steady weight. It felt almost like a hug.

Three breaths and he’d get up.

… Probably.

“Awake?” Lan Zhan’s voice rumbled from his chest, just-woke-up gravelly.

Wei Ying could feel his heartbeat, faintly, against his cheek.

“Mmm,” he answered. He waited for Lan Zhan to push him away. That was the pattern, after all-- Wei Ying was very clear on this. Most people did not mind being patted on the shoulder or supported as they walked on an injured leg, but Lan Zhan pushed it aside or bore with it with a tense tolerance that spoke of extreme dislike. It was a shame, because Wei Ying was extremely comfortable right now.

The shoulder he rested on shifted slightly. Wei Ying sighed.

“...Alright?” Lan Zhan asked softly. Probably asking if he could get up now without Wei Ying clinging like a limpet. Ah, well.

“Yeah, yeah… 'S time to start on the porridge, anyways.” Wei Ying regretfully rolled to the side to let Lan Zhan sit up, flinching as his back met the cold floor. He hissed with discomfort and jumped up, ready to get moving.

“..mn.” Lan Zhan was folding the blanket. Somehow, his hair was not mussed at all. Bastard.

Wei Ying stretched, yawning as he pulled his arms behind his head and arched backwards. The dull ache in his shoulders intensified into an almost pleasant burn. With a groan, he dropped the stretch. “Didja sleep okay?” he asked, finger-combing his bangs back from his face.

“..mn.”

“Not a mornin' person? ‘Sokay, we got tea. Nai Nai won’t be up for a while, but you’re welcome t' stay for lunch.” Or dinner, but he’d probably want to head out before night fell. 

Lan Zhan hesitated but shook his head. “Just breakfast.”

Wei Ying hummed consideringly and went to fetch wood to build up the fire.

Lan Zhan watched him leave.

Then he took a moment to bury his face in his hands and repress a whine as his ears felt like they caught fire. Wei Ying had— and his voice when he woke up— and the stretching with his robe half-unlaced was— it was Very Unfair. Lan Zhan would like it marked, for the record, that Wei Ying in the morning was an Unfair Existence.

He’d managed to find and fill the kettle by the time Wei Ying stoked the fire back to a comfortable blaze.

“You headin' out today?” Wei Ying asked, preparing two mugs. Lan Zhan nodded. “Where to?”

“Unclean Lands,” he answered. That was where Uncle Qiren had told him to go, when they were separated after the fight with the Wens. When it was clear his leg was too injured to ride his sword, and another Lan disciple had volunteered to act as a decoy for long enough for him to disappear into lower Gusu.

The Nie clan would never turn him away.

“Huh. Do ya know how to get there?” Wei Ying asked. Lan Zhan raised a brow. He’d only been traveling there with his brother every year since he was ten. “On foot, and not on your fancy sword?”

Lan Zhan snorted. The direction was the same, he was confident he wouldn’t get lost— wait. “...sword?” He asked, fists clenching in his lap.

Wei Ying poured boiling water into their mugs. “Yeah, cuz you’re a cultivator?” He said it like an obvious fact.

“... the ribbon?” He guessed. He couldn’t think of anything else that might have given him away.

Wei Ying snickered. “Toldja it made you look like a Gusu Lan! But nah, I wasn’t sure 'til last night.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Cuz, y'know, golden core level cultivators c'n control their body heat.”

Lan Zhan fought back a blush. “You won’t tell,” he stated.

Wei Ying scoffed. “What, ya think I’m a snitch?” His face twisted further. “To the Wens? I wouldn’t piss on one if 'e was on fire.”

Lan Zhan’s fists relaxed. He nodded, grateful.

Wei Ying sighed and sipped his tea, expression relaxing. Easing back into the cheer that seemed more natural on his face than resentment. “So, what time're we leaving?”

Lan Zhan choked on his tea.

Chapter Text

The rabbits that lived near Cloud Recesses did not fear humans. 

They had no reason to, of course, the killing of any animal on their lands had been forbidden since the foundation of the sect. Lan Yi, the sect leader most commonly known for her Chord Assassination technique, was apparently so fond of rabbits that she’d added an additional rule that forbade the capture or selling of animals for food within their lands. For generations, the peaceful mountain where Lan Zhan was raised was filled with cheerful birdsong and fat, fearless rabbits.

He wondered if they ran when they smelled the smoke--

Although Lan Zhan often went out into the clearings behind their compound to practice his guqin, and curious rabbits occasionally hopped closer to see what was making the noise, and a particularly rambunctious black rabbit used to like to dance closer to his leg and then jink away repeatedly like it was testing if he would move, although his brother once found him attempting to practice Inquiry with his non-dominant hand because the black rabbit had decided to take a nap on his sleeve... Lan Zhan did not have favorites.

That would be unfair to the other rabbits.

Still, there was a similarity around the eyes, Lan Zhan found himself thinking. If the black rabbit’s dark eyes had been able to talk, they’d be saying the same thing he could read in Wei Ying’s now. 

‘ I don’t know if I can trust you, but I’m going to anyway.’

“Why… would you leave the woman who raised you?” Lan Zhan asked, hesitant. Pain flashed across Wei Ying’s face. Then he laughed.

“Nai Nai? She’s a peach, but. I’ve only worked here a year, yanno? She knows I’m plannin’ to leave.” Calculation, in those bright-dark eyes. “Nah, she didn’ raise me. An’ the guy who did… Well. He went on a night hunt 'round the Wen’s borders. An’ he never came back.”

Wei Ying was raised by a cultivator? And most likely a roaming cultivator, if he hadn’t been taken in by a sect after his master died. But…

“You don’t have a golden core,” he stated bluntly. 

Wei Ying just smiled. In that way he had, a glint in his eye whispering ‘I know something you don’t know.’

“I don’t? Hmmm…” he set his empty mug down, shrugging languidly. “Then I guess if we meet anythin' on the road, I’ll have to rely on you.” Standing up, Wei Ying patted his legs and stacked their dishes to be washed. “I gotta grab some things from Mingzhu-jiejie before we go. And…”

He fixed his gaze on Lan Zhan’s injured leg.

“Yeah. We’ll hit the stables b'fore we head out. Can’t walk all the way to the Unclean Lands on a gimp leg!”

Lan Zhan was left gaping after Wei Ying’s back as the other teen skipped out the door.

Conversation was not a competition, his brother had told him. It wasn’t a big issue if he couldn’t bring himself to speak to people he wasn’t comfortable with.

Still, Lan Zhan had the distinct feeling that at his best, he’d still lose to Wei Ying’s chatter.

Chapter Text

Wei Ying came back almost immediately, but he didn’t come alone. 

“A-Ying, are you sure you’ll be safe?” the beautiful woman asked, setting a thin box of something on the table. “If she’s threatening to throw you out again, I know the Madam would let you tend the kitchen for us for a few days--” 

Lan Zhan recoiled slightly, both at the heavy perfume the woman was wearing, and the reminder that she most likely came from… next door.

“Aa~, don’ worry, don’ worry Mingzhu-jiejie!” Wei Ying grinned at her as he began to rummage through the kitchen, collecting meat buns left over from the day before. “It’s not too far where we’re goin’. An’ I’m tougher'n I look!”

Mingzhu smiled at him, even though her brows were still furrowed with worry. “Keep to the safer roads, A-Ying. Even if you decide not to come back… Promise me that.”

Wei Ying’s grin faltered and deepened into a soft, warm smile. Lan Zhan found he couldn’t look away as the other teen stepped softly closer to Mingzhu and wrapped her in a tight hug. “Straight an’ narrow as it gets, Jie-jie. Ya don’t gotta worry ‘bout me.”

The woman buried her face in his shoulder for a brief moment, then patted him gently on the back and moved away. “If you need anything.” She pointed at Wei Ying, then, after a pause, at Lan Zhan as well. “A place to hide, food, a change of clothes-- Yunmeng’s on your way. I have friends in Yunping City that would help.”

Wei Ying nodded. Lan Zhan followed suit.

“And Wei Ying.” Mingzhu smiled fierce, lips a blood-red curve in her delicate face. “Give them hell, would you?”

Wei Ying grinned back, teeth flashing sharp and white. “‘Course I will.”

------------

“Was that--” Lan Zhan winced as he stepped on an uneven stone and jarred his leg. Wei Ying peered at his face with concern, arms laden with bundles of food, his blanket, and Mingzhu’s box.

“Was tha’ what?” he asked. “An’ are ya sure ya don’t want a walkin’ stick? I can find one once we get outta town, easy. ”

Lan Zhan shook his head, gesturing for Wei Ying to continue leading them towards the stables.

“Your… sister…” he tried again. “Said to ‘give them hell.’” 

“Uh huh.”

He waited.

Wei Ying wasn’t even looking at him, eyes fixed ahead. For once, there wasn’t even a hint of a smile on his lively face.

Lan Zhan sighed. “The Wens?”

Wei Ying shrugged. “Who else? There’s a lotta bastards around, yeah, but they’re the worst o’ tha worst.”

Lan Zhan frowned. “Did they…” He glanced back towards the brothel.

Wei Ying scowled. “Look, just. If I tell you, will ya drop it?”

Lan Zhan sighed but nodded.

“‘Kay. Um.” Wei Ying shifted his arms slightly, holding his parcels tighter. “I play dizi. For the girls’ dancin’, sometimes. It pays well!” He added, defensive.

Lan Zhan lifted an eyebrow.

Wei Ying scrubbed a hand through his hair and blew out a breath. “I mean, I used ta play. Ya might not know, but there’s some that think if you’re part o’ tha entertainment, you’re part o’ tha entertainment, get it?”

Lan Zhan did not get it.

And a moment later, when he did…

A surge of blinding rage, like a headache slamming into him. 

“Wei. Ying.” His voice trembled.

“Ah…” His guide looked, for a moment, unsure. “Look, if it’s a problem --”

Lan Zhan breathed slow and deep. “Did they hurt you?” he asked.

“NO!” Wei Ying flushed as his shout drew looks. “No, the Madam stopped ‘em. An’ I stopped playin’ for a while. But uh… yeah, they were Wens. An’ Mingzhu tol’ me they knew my face when they came back some months back. An’ maybe in the group that followed you, well...”

Lan Zhan swallowed anger like bile. 

“So it’s jus’ as well we’re both leavin,’” Wei Ying stated, forcing cheer into his voice. “Now c’mon, stable’s just here an’ I’ll see if we c’n get Little Plum for cheap.”

Lan Zhan allowed Wei Ying to usher him to a section of fence next to a building that smelled of hay and animals. 

“Lemme do the talkin, you guard our stuff, yeah?” Wei Ying checked, piling his packages around Lan Zhan’s feet. The box he slipped in the front of his own robes. “An’ then you c’n meet Little Plum! Don’ worry, she only bites if she likes ya!”

With that reassuring phrase and a wink, Wei Ying headed to the house next to the stable, strides sure and confident. Lan Zhan plucked idly at the ribbon still wrapped around his wrist and tried to continue breathing slowly and deeply. He hoped they would be able to leave without meeting any Wens. He hoped they wouldn’t run into trouble on their route to the Unclean Lands.

But if they weren’t able to, and they did run into the men who’d tried to--

Well.

It would be more difficult to kill them all without Bichen, he mused, but still doable.

Chapter Text

Lan Xichen used to take his younger brother with him into Caiyi town after returning from night hunts, for tea and loquats and bustling human noise where the Cloud Recesses were still, cold silence. Lan Wangji slowly got used to watching people laugh and talk and shout their way through their days, hot tea cradled in his joined hands while Lan Xichen sat silent and smiling at his side.

Lan Zhan had never wondered what it was like to be one of them, to be loud and laughing and fragile, no spiritual energy coiled taut and thrumming in their veins. He should have, but he didn’t. Before the Cloud Recesses burned down, he’d never really talked to someone who wasn’t a cultivator.

He hadn’t realized how out of place he would feel, walking out of town in borrowed robes, with his ribbon tied snug around his wrist and his other hand on the sloping back of a donkey that kept turning around to try and bite him. Wei Ying, walking ahead with the reins in hand, kept stopping to wave at people he seemed to know, walking slow enough for some of them to rush into nearby homes and press packages of food and tea and other bits and bobs into his hands.

Lan Zhan looked to see if there was any exchange of ...money? Promises? A deal to bring something back when he returned? But as far as he could tell, the strangers simply waited for Wei Ying to smile before chucking his cheek or ruffling his hair and sending him on his way.

Wei Ying would be able to walk through Caiyi town with a grin and join into the hustle and bustle of human life with that same smile, he thought, like a bird lighting down in water with barely a ripple. Wei Ying seemed born to walk laughing among people who liked him.

Wei Ying had turned back to walk facing him, grinning full-force.

“...what.” Lan Zhan managed to pull his sleeve back in time to miss Little Plum’s snapping teeth.

“You’re walkin’ like you’ve got a stick up your butt,” Wei Ying stated. “No, no, it ain’t a bad thing!” he hurried to say, hands waving. “I was gonna say, keep it up till we reach Qinghe.”

Lan Zhan scowled and straightened his shoulders further. He did not walk like-- like he had--

“Good, good!” Wei Ying praised, entirely unphased. “Just like a young master who’s lost his--”

Lan Zhan’s eyes widened, but he wasn’t able to call out a warning in time to stop Wei Ying from bumping into a huddle of men by the village gates.

Men in white robes with the Wen’s blood red sun insignia.

“--shit.” Wei Ying muttered, low enough that only a cultivator could hear it. His hands loosened on Little Plum’s reigns.

Lan Zhan had just enough time to shift his weight off of the donkey’s low back as she surged forward at the man reaching to grab hold of Wei Ying’s shoulder.

Mouth slightly open in shock, Lan Zhan mused… Somehow, he really doubted Wei Ying’s earlier words.

It didn’t look like Little Plum saved her bites for the people she liked best at all .

Chapter Text

“Oh no!” Wei Ying rushed forward, towards the Wen cultivator currently warding off Little Plum’s snapping jaw. “I am so sorry, Master Cultivator, I swear she’s never done this before, she’s usually so sweet, are you okay?” His eyes were wide and fearful, his hands that had easily balanced multiple trays and carried half of Lan Zhan’s weight the day before ineffectually yanking at the reins.

“Control your animal!” snapped the man in the front as he dodged and bumped into his companions. Wei Ying’s eyes widened further in horror.

“I’m so, so sorry!” he cried, bowing deeply at the cultivators. Little Plum shook her head forcefully, dislodging his weak grip as she lunged forward.

The man closest to the enraged donkey tripped on his companion’s feet as he stumbled backward, landing painfully on his back. Wei Ying swooped forward and flung his arms around Little Plum’s neck, dragging her away from the man inch by inch.

“I’m so sorry, please forgive Little Plum, we’ve had a hard few days on the road, we lost most of her feed, please be merciful, Master Cultivators,” Wei Ying beseeched, wide eyes fearful and wet. Was he- was he trying not to cry?

Lan Zhan’s hands itched for something. A handkerchief or a sword, he couldn’t decide.

“You idiot , take your insane animal and leave!” the man on the ground spat, pushing himself up to grab his companion’s helping hand.

Wei Ying bowed deeply to him, only to be cuffed sharply as he rose. Definite tears sparked in his eyes from the pain.

A sword, Lan Zhan decided, striding forward.

“Young master, please hold Little Plum, she won’t listen to me,” Wei Ying entreated, passing him the reins and clasping his hand. Lan Zhan looked up.

Wei Ying winked, dislodging a tear from his lashes.

He turned back to the Wens as Lan Zhan grudgingly started to move forward with the donkey, who was exceedingly unhappy that her targets were leaving reach of her teeth.

Lan Zhan patted her neck in comfort. “Try again later,” he promised in a low murmur.

Behind him, Wei Ying bowed repeatedly to the cultivators, going so far as to press something into the hands of the irritable man with sizeable dust stains down his back. 

The man cuffed him again, but not quite as hard. Wei Ying bowed deeply to all of them and skipped forward to catch up to Lan Zhan, who hadn’t managed to make himself all that far.

“...you okay?” he murmured as they neared the village exit.

“I’m good!” Wei Ying laced his hands behind his head to stretch. “I hadta give ‘em some of our hard-earned coin, though. Didn’t want them eyein’ our Little Plum or anythin’.”

Lan Zhan paused.

“...I’ll pay you back,” he promised, head lowered. He would . He just had to get back to his family first.

“Ah, no need, no need.” There was something devilish in Wei Ying’s smile, his eyes rounded in little crescents. “Here.” 

Lan Zhan caught the satchel he was tossed. Money bag. Heavy.

Embroidered with the Wen crest.

“You--” He stared at the other boy.

Wei Ying skipped up to walk beside him, making grabby hands. Lan Zhan attempted to pass him the purse, but Wei Ying pouted and reached for Little Plum’s reins instead.

“ Why did you rob one of them?” He asked, stowing the purse in his qiankun pouch. They’d be after Wei Ying now as well as him. Assuming they hadn’t figured out yet that Lan Zhan had left the village they’d tracked him to.

“Oh, I robbed all of ‘em,” Wei Ying answered, unperturbed.

“Wha--”

“But! I gave the smaller purses to the one with the most coin.” Wei Ying swung around, facing Lan Zhan as he walked backwards. “Cuz, you know what they say. You rob one cultivator, they look for ya. Rob all of ‘em, they go flyin’ to look for ya. But , take all their purses and give two of ‘em to Mr. Moneybags?” Wei Ying winked. “Then they go flyin’ after each other.”

Lan Zhan had no words.

“You can say it, y’know. ‘Oh, Wei Ying, you’re sooo clever, what would I do without you~~’” Wei Ying cooed in what was apparently supposed to be a mockery of his voice.

He still had no words.

“Anyways! We’re on the road, we’ve got coin, Little Plum got to menace some people… this is gonna be a good trip!” Wei Ying laughed happily, continuing to walk backwards.

Lan Zhan sighed. 

“Be careful,” he warned.

“I’m always careful, Lan Zhan, I--” Wei Ying stopped laughing briefly as he slipped on a wet stone.

Lan Zhan waited for Wei Ying to scramble back up and walk properly (rubbing surreptitiously at his trousers) before he let himself smile.

Chapter Text

Something about being on the open road seemed to make Wei Ying stand taller. Or not taller, but more open. Or not more open, but…

Lan Zhan realized he’d been staring at Wei Ying’s messy ponytail swaying against his back and the relaxed arch of his shoulders for… he wasn’t sure how long.

He was pretty sure the other boy was humming too, something low and soft and delighted.

All of this was, was fine. Of course it was fine.

Wei Ying kept turning back to point out a patch of wildflowers, a flock of crows, a tree with almost-ripe fruit. He would turn and look at Lan Zhan, seated quietly on Little Plum’s back as he circulated energy to slowly deal with the healing break in his leg.

He would look Lan Zhan full in the face and smile.

Lan Zhan… wished he would just keep his eyes on the road.

They paused at a well around noon to fill their waterskins and eat a small lunch. Wei Ying struck up a conversation with passing merchants who had stopped to mop the sweat from their faces and let their horse drink a pail of water. The animal was thirsty, burying its head in the bucket as if trying to inhale.

Lan Zhan looked at the sweat-damp fur where the saddle had rubbed and privately disapproved. They should have given that animal a break long before now.

“Ahhhh, these fabrics will definitely be popular in the town we just passed,” Wei Ying assured the men, eyes bright. “Which way did you come from?”

“Yunping, why, you headed there?” The man who stepped forward to catch their eye was a medium height, with dull brown eyes. “Could use some talismans for the road, we got news of a roaming group of fierce corpses at our last inn.” He pulled a sheaf of papers from his sleeve with great ceremony.

“You have talismans?” Wei Ying’s smile grew. “Zhou-gongzi, come take a look!” Without taking his eyes off of the man, Wei Ying tugged Lan Zhan’s sleeve, pulling him over to peer at the revealed papers.

Lan Zhan frowned at the false name but obediently went with the pull to peer over Wei Ying’s shoulder.

He frowned harder.

“These are--” Wei Ying stepped on his foot. “--wrong.”

The dull eyes widened… and sharpened. “How could that be? I bought them from a Jin sect cultivator myself! They’re perfectly drawn!”

Wei Ying stepped harder on Lan Zhan’s foot when he opened his mouth again.

“No, there are--” Wei Ying’s elbow ‘slipped’ and hit him in the ribs.

“I’m sorry, it’s very easy to misunderstand our family’s young master. What he means to say is, we came prepared already.”

Wei Ying turned to smile at Lan Zhan. Sweetly. “Besides, neither of us are cultivators. If something were wrong, we would have no way of knowing… and neither would you!”

The man laughed with Wei Ying, and stowed his papers back in his sleeve. “I see. Well, no harm done, no harm done.”

“Of course!” Wei Ying finally let up on Lan Zhan’s foot. “No harm done where none is meant, I always say! Now, listen, I did hear back in the town we passed that a group of cultivators just arrived-- they seemed to be running low on supplies or something. Might want to try to peddle your wares, see if they give you a bit of extra. Those types always carry coin. Hmm?”

The man laughed a little louder. “Well, genuine Jin talismans.... They’d have to pay a fair price, of course.”

Wei Ying winked at him. “Naturally!” He seemed to feel Lan Zhan’s growing anger and confusion as he finally cut the conversation short and sent the, the fraudster on his way.

“Those were fake,” Lan Zhan argued as Wei Ying led Little Plum down the road. “He-- They’re fake!”

“Really?” Wei Ying was still smiling, somehow. “And just how does a young master from a brewer's family know that?”

Lan Zhan narrowed his eyes. He hadn’t even fully agreed to Wei Ying’s idea of pretending to be his servant before the other boy had insisted on referring to him as ‘Zhou-gongzi’ in front of the merchants.

“It is a cultivator’s duty. To ensure the common folk are safe.” He ground out through clenched teeth.

Wei Ying’s smile sharpened. “It is my duty to ensure you are safe, ‘young master.’ Exposing yourself as a cultivator to a merchant entering the same town you just left-- are ya tryin’ to get us followed? We’re still makin’ our head start!”

“Your friends, back in town, could buy those! A child could buy those!”

“My friends know the real kind when they see it. And,” Wei Ying wasn’t looking at him, but something in his shoulders was different. “That’s… I dunno what you want from me.”

Lan Zhan looked at him in silence.

Braced. That’s what his shoulders were.

“A kid could buy ‘em. Sure. It’s possible. But you and me have to go. We can’t stop at every well to care about what a kid somewhere else could do.”

He wasn’t smiling, or looking around, or doing anything but striding forward, eyes on the road.

“The Wen’s’ll hurt ya if they catch ya. Me too, maybe. If we’re lucky, that ass’ll head into their path and slow ‘em a little. If not, my friends do know how t’ spot fakes. They can deal with ‘im better’n we can.”

Wei Ying glanced at him and sighed. Lan Zhan thought he’d keep arguing, but.

He just walked.

In the end, Lan Zhan could only mount Little Plum’s saddle in silence. He slowed his breathing and began, again, to circulate his energy.

It was easier to concentrate, not having to look up every minute or so to see what Wei Ying was trying to point out to him, or answer random questions.

He told himself he didn’t miss the humming.

Chapter Text

Wei Ying walked forward in silence. He felt like cold water was crawling from his stomach up to his throat. 

Like the time Nai Nai shouted at him for dropping a table’s worth of drinks, or when Mingzhu-jiejie quietly told him he’d been playing too fast during her performance. 

That feeling like everything warm in him was sinking slowly away, leaving only snowmelt cold. Cold like gnawing melon rinds on an empty stomach, cold like winter wind shivering through ragged robes, cold that meant small, alone and afraid.

Lan Zhan thought he was heartless now, probably. That he could smile and talk with a man selling fake protection amulets, something that could hurt people if they trusted it, something that could kill -- and do nothing.

Wei Ying chewed on his lower lip.

He hated that Lan Zhan was right.

He kept his pace, and an eye out for any other passersby. Beat himself up or not, feel horrible or not, one of them had to make sure they made tracks away from the Wens, and Lan Zhan clearly didn’t know shit about hiding. Running around in all-white and with his sect ribbon , in the streets between the tea houses and pleasure houses? Was he dropped on his head as a kid?

When their shadows started to stretch long and thin and Lil Plum’s pace slowed to a shuffle, Wei Ying started looking for good camping ground. He finally found a nice spot a bit off the beaten path-- sheltered by broad-leaved trees, far enough from the road that their fire wouldn’t be too visible, and within hearing range of a trickling stream. If he wasn’t mistaken--

“HA! Fish f’r dinner!” 

There was a nice little school of fish lazing away in the bend of the creek. Wei Ying started searching through the saddle bags for his hooks. The school were jumping up to catch some of the flies that’d come out in the haze of dusk-- sure enough, he’d have to burn some of the camphor leaves the butcher’s wife gave him, to keep them from getting bitten in the night. 

Okay, so he was a little tempted to see what Lan Zhan would look like with a face full of bug bites, but only a little.

Not tempted enough he wanted to offer up his own flesh and blood, anyway. Those bugs would probably take one look at Lan Zhan and be too scared to approach!

“Wei Ying.”

A slender, fair-as-jade hand extended in front of him. Two dull metal fish-hooks lay in Lan Zhan’s palm.

Wei Ying stepped backwards, nearly tripping in his haste. When had he--?

“I can fish.” Lan Zhan uttered, face smooth.

“Wha-- Okay?” Flustered for no reason, Wei Ying patted Lil Plum’s neck and was rewarded with an affectionate head-butt to the ribs. “I c’n rub down Lil Plum? And set up camp for dinner?” If he could figure out where the rest of their spices had gone, that was. He knew they had some, especially his favorite dried peppers, but for the life of him, he couldn’t find them in the saddle-bags.

Lan Zhan had produced a length of twine from his pouch and started to set up his fishing line. Wei Ying un-buckled Lil Plum’s saddle and set about making her comfortable before he secured her lead to a tree. 

The other boy didn’t seem angry anymore, at least. That was unexpected.

He seemed like the type to bear a grudge.

Having chosen a long, sturdy branch for his pole, Lan Zhan looked over his shoulder.

“How many?”

Wei Ying snapped his head up. He’d nearly finished making the circle of stones for their fire-bed. “Uh… two big ‘uns?” One each should do the trick.

Lan Zhan nodded, expression unchanging, and made his way to the shore. Wei Ying shook his head and got to work gathering firewood. He found some good tinder in the stump of a dying tree, so he stuffed some up his sleeve. His flint-stone wasn’t at the bottom of his saddle-pack where he thought it was, though.

Staring at the perfectly stacked dry wood, Wei Ying wondered very seriously if his terrible memory had finally decided to leave him for good.

“Lan Zhan~” he called, “D’you remember where the flint is?”

Oh, right, Lan Zhan was fishing. Heaving a sigh, Wei Ying dusted his trousers and headed to the stream.

A slender figure stood at the edge of the water, three fish set on a flat stone by his side. As Wei Ying watched, Lan Zhan picked up the end of the line, holding the hook lightly in his hand. Then, with an audible thrum of humming energy, he darted his hand forward, casting the hook directly into the water.

Wei Ying was close enough to see that the line followed the hook to wrap around a fat fish multiple times before Lan Zhan tugged the bound and squirming victim to dry land.

He. He’d just. He-- He threw the hook! At the fish! And-- and tied it up!! Like a little fish present!!!

Wei Ying cackled so hard he started to get lightheaded. Every time he thought he’d gotten control, he’d look up to see Lan Zhan’s completely baffled face ( no different from his usual face but tilted slightly to the side) and the fish in his hand…. And crack up again.

Forget words, he had to stumble back to the unlit campfire and bury his face into his knees while he laughed until tears sprung from his eyes.

Lan Zhan followed slightly later, with a flat stone boasting four fat fish. Wei Ying pressed a trembling hand to his lips.

“Thanks f’-- hahaha-- for f-fishing, Lan Zhan,” he managed, between giggles. “You ha-have an interestin’--” He paused for breath. “Whoo! An interestin’— who taught ya how to fish, Lan Zhan?”

Lan Zhan’s face tilted slightly further. “My brother.”

All Wei Ying could imagine was a taller, dimmer Lan Zhan. Maybe he’d been dropped on his head? Or both of them?

Maybe it ran in the Lan family.

“The fire?” Lan Zhan prompted, seeming to give up on figuring out what was so funny.

“Oh. It’d be started already if I could find the flint,” Wei Ying remembered. “I coulda sworn it was in th’ saddlebags earlier…”

“Ah.” With an almost sheepish look, Lan Zhan passed him an oddly heavy pouch. Heavily embroidered. Qiankun, looked like Jin make. Frowning, Wei Ying hefted the pack in his hands.

“Open it and summon,” Lan Zhan urged. With a dawning suspicion, Wei Ying did just that.

His flint stone fell into his open palm.

Ten seconds later, so did his salt, his bowl, a thick twist of ghost pepper, and the last of his fish-hooks. He stopped summoning before his kettle and the rest of the heavier items he could sense in the pocket dimension followed suit.

...Those saddlebags had been oddly light now that he thought of it.

“...’S there a reason you re-packed?” He asked, eyes narrowed. Presumably not a theft, since Lan Zhan’d certainly made sure Wei Ying found out where they were…. Still, the part of him that still kept an arm around his plate while he was eating couldn’t help but flare up at the idea of Lan Zhan running his fingers through what little Wei Ying owned and choosing the best bits to take.

“...” Lan Zhan glanced at him. Head tilt. Glanced back at the tree where Lil Plum was munching her way through a patch of grass. “...Lil Plum looked tired.”

And with that, Wei Ying found that he still had some breath left to start laughing again.

Chapter Text

Wei Ying gnawed on his lip as he tried to recall what they had to go with the fish. He hadn’t really been planning meals when he packed that morning, and he barely had half of the ingredients for his favorite boiled fish soup.

He considered asking Lan Zhan’s favorite fish recipe, but considering he’d just been witness to Lan Zhan’s favorite fishing technique--

Huh.

Actually…

“C’n you do fire control spells?” he asked. Lan Zhan looked up from the flat stone where he was currently arranging the fish.

“Mn.”

“Like, c’n you make THIS fire burn really hot for a bit and then settle t’ coals?” he pressed.

Lan Zhan’s brows furrowed, but he nodded again.

“Good, good, good! Do that,” he ordered. “I’mma find the sweet potatoes.” He knew one of the tailor’s daughters had passed a couple over when they were leaving.

Lan Zhan coughed slightly and nodded at the qiankun pouch.

…Of course he had.

Three sweet potatoes richer, Wei Ying pulled the flat box Mingzhu-jiejie had returned to him out of the front of his robes and removed his dagger from it, checking the blade habitually. Still sharp, no signs of damage or rust, the talisman carved into the handle still fully charged. Good.

Lan Zhan held out a hand for it.

Wei Ying frowned at him. “D’ya even know how to clean a fish?” he asked.

Lan Zhan shook his head and reached out again anyway.

“Ugh,” Wei Ying complained, handing it to him hilt first. If Lan Zhan mangled them, he’d just… boil them and douse it in peppers.

Lan Zhan sliced the back of his hand instead, a clean cut that immediately welled red. It took Wei Ying seconds longer than it should have to understand.

“Oh! For the. Right. Uh…. huh.” He watched as Lan Zhan sketched a talisman with his blood and instantly the flames burned hotter, hungrier, lower. “...Right.”

Stealing the dagger back from Lan Zhan’s lap, Wei Ying wiped it clean against his sleeve and began cutting the fish, fingers practiced against smooth scales. When the fire was banked to glowing coals, flaring gently with Lan Zhan’s breathing, very nice work, he had the fish merrily spitted and baking as the sweet potatoes roasted. 

“If they start burning, take ‘em off,” he instructed, before grabbing the leaf-wrapped fish guts and setting off. If he set a couple traps with the smelly bait, they might be able to have some meat in the morning, too!

On his way back to the campfire, Wei Ying drew a few folded papers from his sleeves. These kinds of talismans didn’t need more than a drop of spiritual energy to send them winging off to their intended audience. Two flew away with an imprint of his voice. He set the rest back in his sleeve, panting lightly as he made it back to the banked glow of their camp.

“They done, Lan Zhan?” he asked, lounging next to the other boy to poke at the fire.

“Mn,” he agreed. Or disagreed. Hard to tell from the tone.

“That a yes? I’m hungry,” Wei Ying pouted.

“...Mn.” Lan Zhan nodded slightly, using a twig to move a steaming potato out of the coals. “Hot.”

Wei Ying curled his sleeve around his hand and scooped it up, juggling from hand to hand. “Aaah, hot hot hot hot!” He set it back in front of his crossed legs and blew on his stinging palms. “Ow~”

Lan Zhan… rolled his eyes. Rude!

He also extended a hand to Wei Ying’s wrist, sending a cool pulse of energy through first one palm and then the other.

Wei Ying gaped at him in the warm light of the fire. Was he… blushing?

“Fish,” Lan Zhan reminded him, handing over a skewer. Wei Ying blinked and nodded.

“Thank you!” Cooking done with, Wei Ying added more wood to the fire, poking it until it built back up to a blaze. He’d boil some water in a bit so they could have something to drink before bed. And so he could wash somewhere warmer than the river.

Rules of living on the road, eat when you can, wash when you can. Steal when you have to.

“Mm,” Wei Ying patted his front again for the box Mingzhu-jiejie gave him, fishing it out one-handed. Mouth full of spiced fish, he set the box against his knee and jimmied it open, pulling out a few smooth stones carved with array shorthand. Counting out four, he set them around the fire, and nudged Lan Zhan with his knee.

“...” The boy shot him a look, but paused his meal.

“Mm!” Wei Ying nudged him again and nodded at the rocks. He waggled his eyebrows.

“...No talking during meals,” Lan Zhan stated, frowning slightly.

“...” Wei Ying raised an eyebrow. Who’d been talking, exactly? Hm?

Lan Zhan sighed. He moved to sit further away before Wei Ying could nudge him again.

Rude!

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying swallowed his fish. “Fill up the stones.”

Lan Zhan gave him a look that could have been the strict elderly grandfather of the first look.

Wei Ying waggled his fingers, standard non-cultivator sign for ‘spiritual energy bullshit.’

The Grandfather look had gained a shrewish wife.

Wei Ying sighed. “Four-point array to ward the camp, it needs a fill-up,” he explained. And waggled his fingers again, pointedly.

Lan Zhan delicately wiped his fingers and reached forward, setting a palm against the nearest stone. The others, polished and carved from the same tools, reacted automatically to set the barrier as soon as the first began to glow.

“Like ‘em?” Wei Ying asked with pride. “Took me a--”

The look was back. Wei Ying swore, if there was some kind of spell to make people stop talking, that was what Lan Zhan wanted to do.

“No talkin’ during meals, m-hm, got it!” Wei Ying went back to his fish, grinning sheepishly at the way Lan Zhan’s face twitched whenever he spat out a bone.

The array spread around them like fire-light, silent and safe. Lil Plum tore grass up by the root and munched it calmly, idly rubbing her side against a tree. 

In the woods, out of range, something growled.

Chapter Text

There was nothing inherently different about this campfire, compared to his night hunts with other Lan disciples, Lan Zhan reminded himself.

The light that played across their faces was the same warm orange, even if it made certain people's eyes glow like sun-warmed silver. The star-pricked sky was exactly the same, even if it now rang with joy-bright laughter. The food, even though it was simply spiced and cooked, didn't taste qualitatively better than Lan travel rations, even if he somehow found himself eating more and faster than usual.

There was absolutely no reason Lan Zhan should be enjoying this moment so much, and he tried very hard not to think about it further.

"Startin' to get sleepy already?" Wei Ying asked, head cocked to the side like a curious bird. His hands didn't pause from their current task, setting up a kettle to boil over the fire. Lan Zhan was looking forward to it-- both the tea, and the warm water for washing up. His fingers felt somewhat sticky from eating the fish, no matter how good it had tasted.

He was starting to feel the faint pull of exhaustion, never mind that today they'd basically only been walking on well-traveled roads. The ever-present ache of his leg had dimmed slightly with the meditation he'd managed on the back of Little Plum, but it would take several days of rest to heal completely, he knew.

He meant to ask if they have bedrolls to lay out-- if not, he had a single one in his qiankun pouch, although that would mean having to share. 

Again.

He meant to ask, and even opened his mouth to begin, but a loud, raucous screech cut through their quiet clearing. Something near, terrified and in pain.

And, just at the edge of his sensing range, an area that felt distinctly of cold, dark, decay.

Resentful energy.

-------------------

Wei Ying watched Lan Zhan vault to his feet and plunge into the dark woods without a second's hesitation, in the direction of that sound of animalistic pain and fear.

Wei Ying took the barest moment to grab his dagger, screw up his face and curse.

And then, with the distinct feeling that something was entirely backwards in the state of the world, he took off after the reckless Lan boy.

"I'm norm'ly the idiot people follow into danger, damn it!" he muttered under his breath, following the sway of Lan Zhan's robes into the dark.

And of course neither of them had taken a second to grab a torch, he berated himself, trying desperately to match the cultivator's pace without tripping over roots or patches of leaves. Bad enough their night vision was worse for just coming from a lit clearing, but night was truly beginning to fall, and Wei Ying could barely tell flat earth from stone in the gloom.

For better or worse, they didn't have to run far before they found the source of the cries. 

A crow launched itself into the face of a jiangshi, still screeching at that horrible decibel. Another jiangshi moved stiffly forward, aiming at the fallen nest the crow defended.

Wei Ying seized Lan Zhan's arm before he could step forward, ignoring the glare he received.

They had no spiritual sword, no pre-made talismans, and no time for a better plan.

Wei Ying raised his dagger and carefully drew a line on his palm, collecting the blood that welled up and smearing it against the array carved in the pommel. He stuffed the blood-tacky blade into Lan Zhan's hand. 

"I'll be bait, you purify!" 

And, seriously hoping that Lan Zhan wouldn't turn right around after this was all done and turn that blade toward him--

-- he ran forward, pursed his lips in a whistle--

-- and the corpses froze, turned, and shambled towards him.

Instantly obedient to his use of resentful energy.

Chapter Text

For a moment, everything in the clearing was frozen, living and dead alike. The jiangshi were paralyzed mid-grimace, eyes rolling madly in their sockets. 

Then with a raucous shriek, the crow began again her incessant calls, circling her nest in warning. Wei Ying, still whistling that high pure tone, circled behind the standing corpses, leaving the field open for Lan Zhan to advance. 

Caw! 

Lan Zhan sprang forward and buried the short blade into the first corpse's chest. With the ease of practiced discipline, he sent a wave of cleansing energy through the dagger and obliterated the lingering resentment that animated the corpse. 

Caw!

The crow wheeled again, straight toward the remaining jiangshi's eyes. Wei Ying's eyes widened and he changed the tone of his whistle, clumsily forcing the corpse to retreat from the raging bird. 

Contact, even brief, between living beings and resentful gui could be disastrous. 

Caw! 

Strictly controlling the impulse to limp, Lan Zhan sprang at the retreating jiangshi, again aiming for the heart. With a final burst of spiritual energy, both corpses were cleansed. 

They remained standing for only a moment. Then, Wei Ying pursed his lips, ending his final note. In an instant, the corpses fell stiffly to the forest floor. 

With a final caw, the crow soared over the downed corpses to land on Wei Ying's shoulder, companionably clacking her beak next to his ear. 

Lan Zhan, lacking a sword-cloth, bent to clean the dagger against a patch of dry moss. Hilt held carefully in his off-hand, he stepped forward, reaching a hand to— ignoring Wei Ying's flinch— grasp the other boy by the forearm and look him over head to toe for injuries. 

Once satisfied, he raised his head to look Wei Ying squarely in the eyes, fingers curled gently to keep him from quailing backwards. 

"What were you doing?" He asked. 

Despite the clear tension coursing through every limb, Wei Ying attempted a bright smile. "Helpin' you!" He insisted. 

Unconsciously, Lan Zhan's hand tightened, enough that Wei Ying hissed and began to squirm slightly. In an instant, the Lan cultivator thought over and discarded multiple responses— angry accusations, suspicious questions, firm commands. 

Lan Zhan was hit with a sudden certainty— if he let go at this moment, Wei Ying would run far and fast, and Lan Zhan would certainly never see him again. 

Once again, he felt that the clearing was frozen— the crow with her head cocked to the side, the young man whose pulse thundered against Lan Zhan's fingertips, and Lan Zhan himself. 

Before the desperate fear in Wei Ying's eyes could turn to resolute action (to fight, or more likely, to flee), Lan Zhan holstered the dagger in his belt, switched his hold to Wei Ying's wrist... and turned to lead him back to their campsite. 

Uncle might think him inexcusably naïve for this, but Lan Zhan couldn't reconcile the cheerful boy who taught him to steam baozi with the stories he'd been told of wicked cultivators who used resentful energy. 

Someone must have taught Wei Ying to do this, must have taken advantage of his lack of cultivation, perhaps even—Lan Zhan tasted something sour—the uncle who had been lost to the Wen border. Someone must have taught Wei Ying to take this crooked path. 

Surely, surely if Wei Ying had not yet been driven to cruelty and madness by the use of resentful energy, there was still time to teach him a better path. 

And even if—he swallowed—even if there wasn't, he needed to keep the other boy close enough to. To stop him. If absolutely necessary. 

But before any of that, Lan Zhan needed to reassure Wei Ying he didn’t have to run. He'd even—sudden heat began to rise to his ears—if necessary, he'd even hold Wei Ying's hand all night if he had to. 

Lan Zhan chanced a glance back, catching sight of Wei Ying's moon-pale face in the evening gloom. 

He... might actually have to. 

Chapter Text

Two months had passed since the last message from Wen Qing's most irritating contact. Wen Ning had taken to peering sorrowfully at the sky, as if he could will the messenger bird to appear. 

Wen Qing wouldn't admit to doing the same, in between attending to her other duties. She was too busy to be worrying over the most unrepentantly shameless teen to ever throw up in her nicest rice bowl when he caught summer flu. She had nice, respectable patients to tend to, who didn't sometimes start smoking gently around the seams with resentful energy. Wen Song, her lovely second cousin, was currently nurturing her first pregnancy, and fairly glowing with joy. 

(She was also drinking a round gallon of ginger tea daily for her morning sickness, but none of that sickness had ended up on any of Wen Qing's nice tableware, Wei Ying.) 

Wen Qing sighed. When even her own private musings began to include that little terror, it was too late to pretend she wasn't worried. 

"A-Ning!" She called, craning her head out of the clinic door. "A-Ning, any news?" 

Wen Ning came running, a green leaf caught in his hair. 

"I th-think he's headed to Qinghe," he said, stuttering a little in his rush. 

"That's what he sent?" Wen Qing asked. "We don't know anyone in Qinghe, how would he--" 

"Not from Young Master Wei," Wen Ning corrected. "From Fourth Uncle's son-in-law. They were following a Lan cultivator en route to Qinghe, when they got robbed somehow. And attacked by a donkey. In Yuzhou." 

Fourth Uncle's son-in-law was a deeply unpleasant man, but at least his letters to his wife were often filled with useful information. 

Wen cultivators being robbed in Wei Ying's last known location was as good as a message from one of his bird-guiding talismans. 

(Or even a little better, his writing was often near to illegible.) 

---- 

"… And Wei Ying understands why this is unsafe?" Lan Zhan asked, rounding his second full lecture on the dangers of demonic cultivation. By this point, his pupil's eyelids were getting heavy. To say nothing of the teacher, who was used to sleeping a full shichen earlier, and who was holding back a yawn with sheer force of will. 

"Got it, I got it," Wei Ying whined. "Please can we be done!" He wiggled in his seat, almost-but-not-quite regaining his wrist from Lan Zhan's grasp. 

Wei Ying was almost expecting a bracelet of bruises around his arm—except that no matter how firm Lan Zhan held him, it never actually reached the point of pain. 

Something else had, though, and he squirmed even more pointedly, holding back from simply rocking back and forth. 

"Lan Zhan, Lan-gege, Lan-gongzi, please," he whined. "I really need t'go." 

Chapter Text

The next day dawned bright and clear, and for once, Lan Zhan was not awake to greet it. 

Half-asleep even as he blinked his way to wakefulness, he somewhat expected a warm weight against his side, the soft susurrus of another's breathing. 

Silence and solitude were his only companions. 

Lan Zhan sat bolt upright and looked around the clearing for any sign of where Wei Ying had gone. 

Lil Plum was still tied to a nearby tree, snoring donkey snores. His qiankun pouch was still tied to his wrist. 

Wei Ying and his dagger were both missing. 

Tugging his robes to rights, Lan Zhan stood, prepared to start searching for his companion. Maybe he'd gone to the river to fetch water, or... or... 

It was possible he'd simply run the moment Lan Zhan fell asleep. Something soured in his stomach to imagine it, the look of fear on Wei Ying's face last night and the way his pulse had galloped in his wrists. What if he'd decided it was too dangerous to stay by Lan Zhan's side? What if he'd run off and gotten caught by the Wens? Would they recognize him from town, would they link Lan Zhan's disappearance to him? 

Lan Zhan's hands began to shake as he looked around the clearing fruitlessly. Whichever way Wei Ying had gone, he hadn't left a single trace that Lan Zhan could see. 

Barely audible over Lan Zhan's rising heartbeat, he heard a rustle in the undergrowth. He turned so fast his leg gave a twinge that nearly staggered him. 

"Ya woke up!" Wei Ying greeted him in a sleepy drawl. "I was checkin' the traps I set las' night. Didn' catch much but there's a pheasant for breakfas'." 

Lan Zhan's chest flooded with relief. 

"Next time," he hesitated. "Wake me up. First." 

"Wha—huh?" Wei Ying blinked at him, before light visibly entered his eyes. "Oh no, ya must'a thought... Sorry. I wasn' thinkin'." 

Lan Zhan waved a hand. "No need for sorry." It had been unpleasant, but he hadn't been left worrying for long. 

In companionable silence, the boys set about stoking the fire and preparing the bird to cook over it. 

As Lan Zhan washed his hands in the water they'd boiled from the stream, he asked a question that had been lingering on his mind. "What will you do when we reach Qinghe?" 

Wei Ying glanced aside at him, lips pursed in thought. "What'll I be allowed t' do?" He asked. 

Lan Zhan furrowed his brow. 

"I mean, will I be allowed t' stay? Can I work for them... or for you?" Wei Ying sighed. "I'd like t'stay. I'd like to help. But I'd need ya to vouch for me." 

Lan Zhan's brow smoothed. 

"Not that ya have to! I mean, I c'n keep moving on, after. But I'd like t' help." Wei Ying looked almost desperate to be believed. 

"Wei Ying has been helping from the beginning," Lan Zhan pointed out. "Even when there was no reward." 

He paused, not out of reluctance, but out of the feeling that something would change indelibly after his next words. 

"…I will vouch for Wei Ying." Then, quieter, "You're welcome to stay." With me.