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Chapter Text

Jin Ling picked his face off of the ground and brushed at the dust that the fall had shoved up his nose. Suihua crashed uselessly to the ground beside him and he flopped over onto his back, pounding at his chest with a fist until his lungs started working again.

The goose that had risen suddenly above the trees and collided with him honked derisively and flew away. The branches that he’d hit on the way down creaked alarmingly.

Someone nearby was laughing hard enough that their life was in danger.

That someone shoved his beaming face into Jin Ling’s line of sight and the bright red ribbon that he’d spotted from the sky fluttered down, swatting Jin Ling on the cheek. A hand landed on his shoulder and Wei Wuxian asked, in a voice breathless with laughter, “Are you hurt?”

Jin Ling resisted the urge to smack his face away, settling instead for shrugging out of the grip on his shoulder and rolling to his feet as he returned Suihua to its sheath.

Wei Wuxian followed him up, grin disappearing as he bowed, somehow graceful and extremely disrespectful at the same time. “Ah, forgive my manners, Sect Leader Jin, for not greeting you properly,” he said solemnly. “This poor servant merely worried for your health following that shocking assault on your person.”

“Stop.” Jin Ling picked several twigs off himself, dropping them to the ground.

“Sect Leader Jin, allow me to chase down the culprit!” Wei Wuxian’s hands were everywhere, patting Jin Ling down in a search for injuries. Jin Ling tried to dodge, but Wei Wuxian had a tight grip on his belt and wouldn’t let go.

“I’m fine, let go!” he said, finally catching Wei Wuxian’s hand as he reached for Jin Ling’s nose.

Wei Wuxian didn’t struggle, letting Jin Ling detach his hand and step backward. “Why were you flying so low anyway?” he asked. “If you’re headed to the Cloud Recesses, you still have a fair distance to go.” He wandered back to the pond he’d been wading in when Jin Ling had noticed him, untying the string that held his robes up around his knees and picking up his shoes as he mused, “And what a strange coincidence that you just happened to fall right where I was working on my special project, hm?”

Jin Ling flared up with an indignant realization. “Did you throw a goose at me?!”

“Were you trying to sneak up on me?” Wei Wuxian raised an eyebrow, and Jin Ling crossed his arms.

“No!” he lied, rapidly switching to the offensive. “How could you accuse me of that? Do you attack all passing travelers with whatever bird is at hand?!”

Wei Wuxian laughed again, dropping his shoes to ruffle Jin Ling’s hair. “I saw Suihua’s reflection when you passed overhead and circled around me. You’re getting a little better at lying, but your stealth could still use some forethought.”

Jin Ling scowled and ducked away, stopping at the mud by the pond’s edge. “This is your special project?”

He didn’t know what he’d expected, but it wasn’t forty or so young lotus plants bobbing up and down.

“Ah, yes,” Wei Wuxian said, squelching through the mud with his bare feet. He realized too late that his robes were hanging freely down into the mud, and had to hastily drag them up around his knees. “I just wanted to plant some lotus, but the climate is a bit too cold up at Cloud Recesses and then it took me longer than I thought to find a pond owned by someone who wouldn’t mind me taking it over, so it’s a special project now. I’m sure I’m going to lose most of them to the geese, but maybe if I throw a few more of them at sneaky cultivators they’ll move to a different pond.”

“Unbelievable,” Jin Ling said. “What are you doing gardening? If you want lotus, go to Lotus Pier and get…” He trailed off as Wei Wuxian’s grin turned broader and sharper.

“I don’t want to bother your uncle too badly,” he said dismissively, and his smile turned more natural. “Anyway, it’s nice to do things like this for yourself.” He stooped to wash the bulk of the mud off his feet and hopped back to stand beside Jin Ling. “But I think this isn’t what you came all the way to Gusu for. Unless you’re here just to catch up?”

Jin Ling shook his head and pulled the letter from his sleeve, offering it to Wei Wuxian. “I received this yesterday.”

Wei Wuxian wiped his hands dry on his outer robe and took the letter, scanning through it quickly with a furrowed brow. “This came directly to you?”

“No, it was relayed through the Nie sect.” Wei Wuxian’s eyes narrowed and he read the letter more closely. “Sect Leader Nie-“

“Oh, it’s Sect Leader Nie from you now? What happened to Head Shaker?”

“ Sect Leader Nie ,” Jin Ling repeated through gritted teeth, “sent a message along with it saying that he thought I would be interested.”

“In writing? Do you have it now?”

“No, he sent a messenger.”

“Hm.” Wei Wuxian didn’t say anything else, his expression flattening into an eerie approximation of Hanguang jun’s unreadable face as he folded up the letter and stashed it in his own sleeve. Jin Ling swallowed down the protest. “You’d better come back to Cloud Recesses with me. We can talk on the way.”

At Jin Ling’s nod, Wei Wuxian turned to retrieve his shoes. “What do you think?” he asked.

“The Nie sect has sent you a letter from an unknown person pleading for aid due to some sort of undescribed evil creature lurking in the hills behind a remote town. The town is outside of the borders of both of your sects, and in fact lies within Qishan, deep in the former territory of the Wen Sect.” Wei Wuxian flicked a finger across his nose slowly. “Sect Leader Nie thought you would be interested. Aren’t you?”

Jin Ling followed as Wei Wuxian started down the narrow path towards Caiyi Town. "I suppose so,” he said. "Even if it is all the way in Qishan.”

“Ah, you are? But then, haven’t you started in the wrong direction by coming to Gusu?” Wei Wuxian turned his head to look at Jin Ling, raising an eyebrow.

“Stop pretending you don’t know why I’m here,” Jin Ling demanded. “The letter is too strange, and I don’t trust it.”

“So you brought it to me, as a strange person myself.” Wei Wuxian grinned suddenly, and Jin Ling knew the next thing he would say would be unbearable. “A-Ling, I didn’t-”

“Uncle is too forthright with things like this,” Jin Ling interrupted. “He would storm straight to Qinghe and shake Sect Leader Nie until he explained why he would send on such a vague letter, and then I’d have to deal with all the elders of three sects being outraged, so really I had no other option.”

“How do you know that I won’t do the same?” Wei Wuxian asked. Jin Ling let silence be his response, dragging his eyes from the messy pile of hair on top of Wei Wuxian’s head down to the traces of dirt where he’d touched his face while working, then to his freely swinging empty hands and the muddy bottoms of his robes. Wei Wuxian pouted and said, “Just because I don’t look tough right now, you think I can’t beat up Sect Leader Nie?”

Wei Wuxian could certainly beat up Sect Leader Nie. In ruling out Uncle Jiang, Jin Ling had forgotten to consider that Wei Wuxian didn’t need to act within the constraints of being a Sect Leader but in terms of being impulsive and contrary, he was at least the equal of Uncle Jiang. He was suddenly not sure if he wouldn’t have been better off going to Lotus Pier. “Well, if you do, I’ll- I’ll,” he faltered.

“You’ll beat me up?” Wei Wuxian finished, grinning widely, spinning around to walk backwards and face him. “Sect Leader Jin, I had no idea your fealty to the Nie Sect ran so deep. What a protective spirit you have.”

A branch stuck out in the path, exactly at knee height. Wei Wuxian didn’t turn back around, walking backwards and laughing, and Jin Ling sensed a chance for revenge. He scowled deeply and took a quick step forward, which made Wei Wuxian laugh even harder until the instant that the branch hit the back of his leg and he stumbled. Jin Ling closed the rest of the gap and gave Wei Wuxian a gentle push as he tried to recover his balance, sending him to the ground with an undignified squawk.

“Senior Wei!” Jin Ling said in mock dismay. “Are you alright? Falls at your age can be so dangerous!”

Wei Wuxian’s hair, already precariously tied, had given up and flopped over his face. He sat up and pushed it up to glare balefully at Jin Ling. “You pushed me?”

“I didn’t, I didn’t,” Jin Ling said quickly. “I was trying to help, but you were already falling. Maybe your mind is clouded with age and you mistook my helping hand for a push?”

Wei Wuxian stood up without breaking his glare. Jin Ling stiffened his back and stood his ground, refusing to blink. Just as he started to wonder if he’d gone too far, Wei Wuxian’s face cracked into a smile and he was laughing again. “You’ve grown so much, A-Ling! That was such a dirty, underhanded trick!”

Jin Ling breathed a sigh of relief as Wei Wuxian turned around and started walking again, this time facing properly forward. “Anyway, we’ll get to the bottom of this mysterious letter. Nothing to worry about.”

“I’m not worried,” Jin Ling snapped. “I just thought it might be interesting. For you.”

“You and Sect Leader Nie both, I suspect. But hurry up or we’ll miss curfew. It’s a long, hard walk back to Cloud Recesses.”

Jin Ling’s jaw dropped involuntarily. “You can’t be serious,” he called as Wei Wuxian sped up. “You’re not going to walk all the way back.”

“I walk everywhere! It’s good for the body and strengthens the mind. You should probably walk more often.”

Jin Ling had personally seen Wei Wuxian resort to means as undignified as faking a fainting fit and as smelly as riding his terrible donkey everywhere to avoid having to walk. However, there wasn’t much that he could say to such a dishonest statement that wouldn’t have Wei Wuxian laughing at him again, so he settled for glaring at his back and stalking after him silently.

“Lan Zhan! LAN ZHAN! ”

The sudden shout rudely jerked Jin Ling out of imagining new and inventive ways to get back at Wei Wuxian for a growing list of offenses, including but not limited to: the goose, the slightly too warm day for walking comfortably, the way he’d shoved his damp feet back into his shoes without flinching, and the way that he kept glancing over at Jin Ling with a fond smile. He clapped a hand over his ear to protect his remaining hearing as Wei Wuxian shamelessly waved both arms overhead at a rapidly descending figure dressed entirely in white, black hair blowing out behind him.

“Lan Zhan!” he called again, still waving.

“He’s seen you,” Jin Ling hissed. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I just wanted to be sure,” Wei Wuxian said. “What if he hadn’t, and he went all the way to the pond to get me and I wasn’t there? He’d be worried.”

“I knew you weren’t going to walk all the way back!” Jin Ling crossed his arms and then had to quickly uncross them when Hanguang-Jun stopped in front of them, dropping lightly to the path as Bichen sheathed itself.

“Wei Ying,” he said. “Sect Leader Jin.”

There had been no semblance of a question on his face or in his words, but Wei Wuxian brightened up like he’d been invited to give a lecture and started talking even while Jin Ling and Hanguang-Jun bowed perfunctorily. “Ah, Lan Zhan, Jin Ling received a very strange letter and brought it to me to ask for guidance.” Jin Ling couldn’t help but bristle slightly at that, even if it was technically true. “Apparently it was sent on to him by Sect Leader Nie, who thought Jin Ling was the person to deal with what appears to be a very serious situation.”

Hanguang-Jun stood there for a moment, and then looked at Jin Ling. “I see.”

“Yes, exactly,” Wei Wuxian replied. Jin Ling wanted to be insulted, but wasn’t sure what he was insulted by. “Jin Ling, show Lan Zhan the letter.”

“You shoved it into your sleeve earlier!”

“Ah, ah, right.” Wei Wuxian dug around in his sleeve, eventually producing the letter with several new wrinkles in it. “Look at this.”

Hanguang-Jun read the letter quickly and looked back up at Wei Wuxian. “Sect Leader Nie sent this?”

“By a messenger rather than writing himself. It’s not really his style, is it?”

“You would know better.”

Wei Wuxian laughed, sounding oddly nervous. “He hasn’t written me that many letters, Lan Zhan. I’m just keeping up with an old friend. Shall we go home? I’ll need to change and pack some things.”

Hanguang-Jun nodded, Bichen sweeping out of its sheath as he wrapped an arm around Wei Wuxian’s waist and they stepped up together onto the sword. 

“Come on, Jin Ling,” Wei Wuxian said, wrapping his hand around Hanguang-Jun’s elbow to keep his arm in place around his waist and leaning back against him.

Jin Ling stepped back on to Suihua with relief and followed Hanguang-Jun. Jin Ling hadn’t traveled to Gusu often, not as a child or in his tumultuous year as a Sect Leader, so he amused himself by watching the ground roll by below them until he realized that Wei Wuxian had said that he needed to pack, but not where he would go.

“Wei Wuxian!” he called. 

Wei Wuxian twisted in Hanguang-Jun’s grasp, poking his face over his shoulder to face Jin Ling. His arm came up and over Hanguang-Jun’s other shoulder, grasping the fabric on the back of his robes so that they were embracing. Jin Ling resisted the urge to avert his eyes in embarrassment. That was what Wei Wuxian wanted him to do.

Wei Wuxian rested his chin on Hanguang-Jun’s shoulder and Jin Ling found himself searching for the gates of Cloud Recesses. They had to be nearly there.

“Did you have a question?” Wei Wuxian called.

Jin Ling sighed and looked back, keeping his eyes firmly on Wei Wuxian’s face. “Where are you going to go?”

“Where else?” Wei Wuxian fluttered the letter at him. “You’ve received a very suspicious written invitation. Wouldn’t it be rude not to attend?”

“What about the Nie Sect? If they’re being suspicious, shouldn’t we investigate them?”

“You’re already back to storming into the Unclean Realm and shaking answers out of Nie Huaisang? Why do that when we can go right to the source?”

Hanguang-Jun turned his head towards Wei Wuxian enough that Jin Ling could hear him as well. “We’ll take the direct path.”

“As always, right Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian lifted his head from Hanguang-Jun’s shoulder, and their faces were abruptly close enough together that Jin Ling found the speed to fly ahead of them and took the lead until they landed at the gates of Cloud Recesses.

Wei Wuxian returned to the subject as they climbed the stone pathway and passed the massive wall of rules. “Anyway I don’t think Sect Leader Nie will know anything about this. If he wanted to lure you out, he wouldn’t do it so obviously.”

“What are you talking about?” Jin Ling asked incredulously. “When would he lure anyone out?”

“Wei Ying, I will inform my brother.”

“Right. Jin Ling, why don’t you go find Sizhui? He said he would be working in the library today.”

“Where are you going?” Jin Ling asked, not excited about being left to his own devices like a child while Zewu-Jun and Hanguang-Jun planned.

Wei Wuxian pointed at his hair, only marginally more tidy after his efforts to re-tie it as they’d walked, and then at his robes, dusty and muddy from the pond and the road. “We’ll find you later. The library’s that way.”

Hanguang-Jun and Wei Wuxian left him there without further discussion, and Jin Ling started down the path, hoping that the library wouldn’t be hard to find.

Despite its nature as a mountain settlement forcing the Lan to build around terrain rather than any sense of order, Cloud Recesses somehow had a natural flow and logic to it. Jin Ling stopped at the top of a sloping path to overlook the buildings. He hadn’t been to the Cloud Recesses as a child or when he was younger and training, something he hadn’t understood the reason for until one day Hanguang-Jun had accompanied Zewu-Jun to Carp Tower. Hanguang-Jun hadn’t looked at anyone, so it wasn’t strange that he hadn’t greeted Uncle Jiang, but Uncle Jiang had looked at him.

Uncle Jiang didn’t get along with most people, so Jin Ling hadn’t thought much of his obvious dislike until he’d seen Hanguang-Jun again at Dafan Mountain. Even then, Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi had spoken for him and he’d refused to make eye contact or acknowledge Uncle Jiang’s presence. Everything else had fallen apart right after that, and he supposed it was better that everything that had happened back then was out in the open, but it was still an immutable fact that Hanguang-Jun hated Uncle Jiang, and that the feeling was mutual.

So that was why Jin Ling had never been to Cloud Recesses as a disciple, and even as Sect Leader he had only barely stepped inside the gates before leaving again. Even now that all the upheaval of the last year was settling down he sometimes felt like one wrong step would ruin everything, and he wasn’t sure how Hanguang-Jun felt about him. He had stabbed Wei Wuxian that one time, after all, and Hanguang-Jun tended to cut off people’s arms when they did things like that. He didn’t want the wrong step that sent the carefully balanced peace of the cultivation world back into chaos to be his accidental disrespect of the laws of Cloud Recesses or the Chief Cultivator.

On top of that, it wasn’t that Jin Ling was willing to admit to anyone that Hanguang-Jun’s face of stone was unnerving or concerning in the least, but he couldn’t help but feel worms writhing in his gut when the man turned his stare on him.

“Sect Leader Jin?”

Lost in thought, Jin Ling hadn’t heard anyone approach. He jerked in surprise, half-unsheathing Suihua, until he abruptly realized that it was Lan Sizhui who had approached him.

“...Sorry,” he mumbled, shoving Suihua back down. “I didn’t hear you.”

“It’s fine,” Lan Sizhui said. “Have you come to visit Senior Wei? He was leaving Cloud Recesses today, but Hanguang-Jun left to bring him back some time ago so he should be back soon.”

“I met him on the way,” Jin Ling said, “Though I’ve already forgotten why I would come to see him instead of someone less annoying.”

Lan Sizhui drew himself up like he wanted going to say something to refute that, but didn’t. “Are you going on a night hunt, then? Uncle Ning isn’t here, and most everyone else is out as well, but I could come along.”

“Why are you here if everyone else is gone?” Jin Ling asked curiously. Lan Sizhui was easily the best of the Lan disciples and could even be called one of the strongest young cultivators without an argument from anyone. It was very strange for him to stay behind in Cloud Recesses when the other juniors were out.

“Ah, I was helping Senior Wei with a project,” Lan Sizhui said. “But it turned out that he didn’t really need help and that he just wanted an excuse to leave Cloud Recesses and return at odd hours, so today I left him to it.”

Jin Ling’s mind failed as he tried to imagine Lan Sizhui in his perfect white robes digging around in a farmer’s pond to plant lotus. “A project? You were helping him with those lotus plants?”

“You saw them?” Lan Sizhui said, smiling. “I didn’t do very much. Senior Wei was having trouble with the geese that live nearby, so I was keeping them away for him.”

“Wei Wuxian couldn’t keep geese away?” Jin Ling asked scornfully. “Are you sure? He seemed to be getting along quite well with them when I arrived.”

“I don’t think that he needed my help at all, really,” Lan Sizhui admitted, “But I was already there, so he had to find something for me to do. What brings you to Cloud Recesses, if not a night-hunt?”

“It might be a night-hunt,” Jin Ling said. “An unsigned letter was sent to me by Sect Leader Nie that claimed that there seemed to be something evil in the hills near a town in Qishan, but it didn’t give any more details than that.”

“That’s strange,” Lan Sizhui said, looking down. “What did Senior Wei say?”

“He wants to go to the town, and Hanguang-Jun is telling Zewu-Jun about it now.” 

“Ah, so Senior Wei and Hanguang-Jun will both accompany you?” Sizhui smiled broadly, and Jin Ling realized that he was certainly right. If Wei Wuxian wouldn’t or couldn’t use a sword to travel a short distance from Cloud Recesses, there was no way he could make a much longer trip on his own.

“Lan Sizhui!” he said in sudden desperation. “Please, come with us! Don’t leave me alone with those two!”

Lan Sizhui laughed, sudden and bright, and then gasped and clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle himself. “Making loud noises is prohibited in Cloud Recesses,” he explained in a soft voice. “Of course I’ll come along. Let me gather some things.”

 Jin Ling found himself following Lan Sizhui through Cloud Recesses as he quietly narrated what they were passing (“Sect Leader Jiang, Sect Leader Nie, and Senior Wei once got drunk in those dormitories and Hanguang-Jun caught them!” “They did!?” “Yes, and then they were beaten!”). Lan Sizhui was more agreeable than most of their generation, along with having a gentle and upright nature coloured by his odd affection for Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-Jun, respectively the most annoying and most alarming presences in Jin Ling’s life, and Jin Ling found himself enjoying Lan Sizhui’s recitation of all the interesting scandals he knew about Cloud Recesses.

“How do you know all this?” he asked.

“Senior Wei told me. He said that I should remember that even Cloud Recesses isn’t always quiet and perfect, but I think he also wanted to brag about how much trouble he used to get into. He gets in less trouble now.”

“Right!” Jin Ling said, remembering. “He said that he had memorized all the rules of the Lan clan because he had to transcribe them so many times. He wasn’t even ashamed!”

Sizhui laughed, and then gestured to a medium-sized building. “This is the Lanshi, where we have our lessons.” He led Jin Ling up to the building and opened the door to reveal a single large room filled with tables.

The room was not very interesting, just another example of elegant construction among many, but Lan Sizhui was looking at him like he expected a response. “Very nice,” Jin Ling said. When he looked a little closer at the room though, he spotted a large, ugly porcelain turtle sitting among the rest of the delicately crafted ornamentation and couldn’t help but recoil and point at it. “What’s that thing?”

Lan Sizhui laughed, leaving Jin Ling unsure if the joke was on him or not. Since it was Lan Sizhui though, and not Lan Jingyi or Jin Chan or someone worse, he waited for Lan Sizhui to explain. “It just appeared one day, and since Hanguang-Jun didn’t say anything about it or remove it, no one wanted to question it, and now it’s been too long to ask about it! Isn’t it ugly?” 

“Very ugly,” Jin Ling agreed. Hanguang-Jun had even stranger tastes than he’d thought.

When they stepped into Lan Sizhui’s room, Jin Ling looked about curiously. The room was small, but perfectly tidy and well ordered. A guqin sat upon a table, and another smaller table held an inkstone and a stack of empty talismans, along with a neat pile of letters.

“Did Senior Wei or Hanguang-Jun say when they planned to leave?” Lan Sizhui asked, opening drawers and pulling robes, papers, and other items with quick and precise movements. He clearly was well-used to preparing to leave on short notice, which Jin Ling thought was only natural given the amount of time he spent with both Wei Wuxian and Lan Jingyi.

“No, but it seemed like it would be as soon as he had changed his clothes.”

“Then it could be anytime from right now to midday tomorrow, depending on how he feels.” Seemingly satisfied with his packing, Lan Sizhui closed his guqin into a qiankun bag and hung it at his waist. “We’ll go to the Jingshi and find out.”

“Did you show me that one?” Jin Ling asked, trying to remember the array of buildings Lan Sizhui had led him past. 

“Not yet. The Jingshi is where Hanguang-Jun and Senior Wei live when they’re here.” Lan Sizhui looked around his room one more time and closed the door. “It’s not far.”

“They live in the same place?” Jin Ling asked, surprised enough to ask without thinking about it.

“You thought they wouldn’t?” Lan Sizhui said, his smile slipping a bit but still gentle enough that Jin Ling thought he hadn’t been too offensive.

“I don’t spend a lot of time considering Hanguang-Jun’s sleeping arrangements.” Lan Sizhui was still looking at him a bit strangely, so Jin Ling hurried to add, “It’s their business anyway, isn’t it?”

That seemed to be the right thing to say, or at least enough to make Lan Sizhui move on. He led the way around winding paths to a more isolated area with several large houses behind fences. “That’s the Jingshi,” Lan Sizhui said, indicating to the one set the furthest back from the path. He walked with the confidence of a resident through the gate, but stopped before climbing the steps to enter the building. “Senior Wei? Hanguang-Jun?”

“Is it Sizhui?” Wei Wuxian’s voice drifted lazily out through the door. “You can come in.” 

Jin Ling followed Lan Sizhui up the stairs and into the Jingshi, unsure of what to expect. Wei Wuxian was sitting lotus-style on the floor with Hanguang-Jun sitting on the bed behind him, his knees framing Wei Wuxian’s shoulders as he extricated a comb from a tangle of Wei Wuxian’s wet hair and set it on the bed beside him. Jin Ling accidentally caught Hanguang-Jun’s eye when he looked back up and briefly considered if one could suffer a Qi deviation from exposure to someone’s romantic life, or if that was just how everyone felt when Hanguang-Jun looked at them like he dared them to comment. 

“Ah, good job, Jin Ling,” Wei Wuxian said as Jin Ling tried to figure out how to break eye contact with Hanguang-Jun without looking cowed. He took the opportunity to look at Wei Wuxian instead, who smiled up at him. “You did find Sizhui. I remembered that you don’t know Cloud Recesses very well and got worried that I’d have to rescue you from some situation or another.”

Wei Wuxian was the picture of calm satisfaction, and Jin Ling found it hard to believe that he had been even slightly concerned. At least he was nearly fully dressed, and after the initial shock of seeing Hanguang-jun wielding a comb instead of a sword or guqin, Jin Ling could see that several qiankun bags were sitting on the bed, waiting to be picked up, while Suibian and Bichen sat in a sword rack nearby. It seemed as if Wei Wuxian had been serious about leaving soon.

“There wasn’t any trouble,” Sizhui said. “Sect Leader Jin said that you were going on a night-hunt?”

“Ah, maybe, maybe,” Wei Wuxian said, leaning forward. "I've been trying to think of what I know about that part of Qishan. It’s a relatively quiet place, as far as I remember. There were no major battles near there in the Sunshot Campaign, right, Lan Zhan?”

“No, and I haven’t heard anything about that area recently, though it is in Qishan,” Hanguang-Jun confirmed. “Brother didn’t know anything about it either.”

“See, if Zewu-Jun and Hanguang-Jun both can’t recall the history of a place, it must be a very boring one,” Wei Wuxian laughed. 

“But it’s still in Qishan,” Jin Ling said, taken by surprise. “Of course it’s not boring. Qishan is practically the land of the dead.”

“Ah?” Wei Wuxian said, twisting around to look at Hanguang-Jun. “Did I miss something? It’s been so long since the Sunshot Campaign, did something else happen in Qishan?”

“No, Senior Wei,” Lan Sizhui said, his face solemn. “Qishan is haunted by the unquiet dead of the Sunshot Campaign.”

Wei Wuxian turned back to them just long enough for Jin Ling to see his lips twist into a frown, and then looked silently back at Hanguang-Jun.

“There were too many dead to be easily put to rest in many places,” Hanguang-Jun said. “In Yunmeng, Qinghe, here, nearly everywhere, all sects were busy with their own territories and their own losses.”

“And the Wens were gone,” Wei Wuxian said, a trace of bitterness in his voice. “So the dead of Qishan were left to grow resentful.”

Hanguang-Jun nodded, and Jin Ling found himself holding his breath, waiting for Wei Wuxian to say something more. The Yiling Laozu had made his name in the Sunshot Campaign, raising the dead and tearing through armies with the Stygian Tiger Seal in hand. Now he was sitting on a wooden floor, his face turned away and his hair half combed out, the least outwardly threatening man Jin Ling knew. 

The silence seemed to stretch out, and then Lan Sizhui took in a deep breath beside him. “Senior Wei-”

Wei Wuxian turned back quickly, a strained smile back on his face and his eyes dry, and Jin Ling could breathe again. “Anyway, Zewu-Jun will visit the Nie Sect while we travel to investigate,” he said. “He’ll be able to determine if someone is trying to play games with you, Jin Ling.”

Jin Ling nodded, not sure how to deal with the sudden change from melancholy to determined, but that was enough for Wei Wuxian, who stood up and began picking up his belongings, shoving Chenqing into his sash and pulling Suibian from the sword stand. “Actually, I don’t think I need to worry about bringing this, right Lan Zhan?” he said, gently putting the sword back down. “Since you’ll be there.”

The feeling of intruding on a private moment was abrupt, though for once Jin Ling wasn’t sure if Wei Wuxian had done it on purpose. He didn’t like it, and turned on his heel. “I’ll wait outside,” he said.

Lan Sizhui was right behind him, but his footsteps were a little quieter. “I’m sorry,” he said, once they were near the gate.

“What are you sorry for?” Jin Ling said. “It’s not like you had anything to do with Qishan, or Wei Wuxian back then.”

Lan Sizhui didn’t have an answer, and they waited in silence until Hanguang-Jun and Wei Wuxian came out.

Chapter Text

The town was the largest one in the area but still counted as little more than a village by population, which was not strange for Qishan. 

They attracted a few stares from the townspeople, though Jin Ling was used to that. He had never been anywhere that people hadn't noticed him, the golden robes of LanlingJin marking him out as someone to pay attention to, and Hanguang-Jun and Lan Sizhui in their bright white robes stood out nearly as starkly as he did. Even Wei Wuxian stood out, a red and black shadow next to the brightness of Hanguang-Jun.

Despite the small size of the town, cultivators appeared to be a relatively unsurprising sight, and the stares didn't last any longer than Jin Ling would have expected in Lanling. In a land haunted by the dead of the Sunshot Campaign, many cultivators found easy hunting in Qishan. This town wasn’t likely to be an exception, even if it was peaceful in comparison to the places where major battles had taken place.

The mid-afternoon heat beat down on them as they walked through the town. After hours of flying following uncomfortable nights of camping, Jin Ling found himself thirsty and a little annoyed because of it, so when Wei Wuxian tugged on Hanguang-Jun's sleeve and pulled him toward the teahouse, he felt a bit of relief that he wouldn't have to be the one to complain first.

Despite that though, Jin Ling had to stop suddenly to avoid walking directly into Hanguang-Jun's back when the two of them froze in the doorway of the teahouse. He exchanged a look with Lan Sizhui, and then Hanguang-Jun spoke and stepped through the threshold.

"Sect Leader Nie."

Jin Ling heard a surprised noise from inside and stepped out from behind Hanguang-Jun in time to see Nie Huaisang jumping to his feet.

“Hanguang-Jun?” he said, sounding confused. “And Wei-xiong?” He looked at Jin Ling and Lan Sizhui and added, “And Lan Sizhui and Jin Ling, er, Sect Leader Jin?” He looked back to Wei Wuxian and continued, “Wei-xiong, how did you get here so fast?”

“We flew,” Hanguang-Jun said, and Jin Ling would have thought it was meant to be sarcasm from anyone else, but from Hanguang-Jun it could just be a statement of fact.

“What I mean is that I only just sent a letter to Wei-xiong this morning,” Nie Huaisang said. “How in the world did you know I was here?”

“We didn’t,” Wei Wuxian said. “Nie-xiong, you sent me a letter? What about?”

“It’s a long story.” Nie Huaisang gestured for them to sit down at the table he’d hastily vacated. “We might as well be comfortable.”

The table was small, so Jin Ling sat at another nearby with Lan Sizhui as Hanguang-Jun and Wei Wuxian joined Nie Huaisang. More tea was brought out quickly, probably spurred by Nie Huaisang greeting them all by name. The gossip mill would no doubt have the entire town terrified by what creature could be powerful enough to draw two Sect Leaders and two legends to their town, but at least that meant people would be cooperative.

“First things first, I think,” Wei Wuxian said. “Lan Zhan, can you show Nie-xiong the letter Jin Ling received from him?”

“From me?” Nie Huaisang took the letter that Hanguang-Jun offered, still as confused-looking as he’d been when they’d arrived. “I haven’t sent Sect Leader Jin anything in weeks.”

He unfolded the paper and read it as the rest of them sat silently. Jin Ling studied his face, waiting for some realization, but it didn’t seem to clear anything up for him.

“I didn’t send this,” he said, passing it back to Hanguang-Jun but looking at Jin Ling. “Where did it come from?”

“A messenger came to Carp Tower four days ago,” Jin Ling said. “He was wearing Nie sect colours and said you had sent him with the message that I might find the letter interesting.”

Nie Huaisang nodded, tipping his chin into his hand. “I think I can help you figure this out,” he said.

“You do?” Jin Ling couldn’t help the bit of derision that slipped out, but Nie Huaisang didn’t seem offended or even answer him, turning back to Hanguang-Jun.

“The situation started like this,” he said, “One of the cultivators in my sect came from this town originally. He was visiting his parents here and noticed something strange, a feeling in the air, and decided to ask around the town to see if there had been a rise in attacks by spirits or more fierce corpses about than there had been.”

“So this is a dangerous place,” Wei Wuxian observed, his tone even.

“Not here, specifically, but cultivators from my sect come to Qishan often,” Nie Huaisang confirmed. “Over the years since the Sunshot campaign, it’s become common for cultivators to train here.”

Wei Wuxian nodded thoughtfully. “So I’ve heard.”

“Zhang Minjing wasn’t able to determine anything certain, but he learned that the townsfolk had begun to avoid a certain area of the hills when they went out to hunt. However, no one could explain why, other than that it gave them a bad feeling to be near it.”

“An area of resentful energy,” Hanguang-Jun said.

“That’s what he thought, and easy enough to disperse if that’s all,” said Nie Huaisang. “He sent me a letter at that point, requesting several sect members to come here and help him to clear it up, but it didn’t seem urgent to him.” 

“So why are you here, then?” Jin Ling asked, tired of the build-up.

“Because he was gone when my people arrived,” Nie Huaisang said, a bit of an edge to his voice. “He isn’t the sort to desert, so I came here to find out what happened to him.”

“What happened to him?” Lan Sizhui asked. “Did you find him?”

“We did not. But that isn’t all. It seems that a woodcutter came into the town shortly before the people I sent arrived. This woodcutter said that he’d been chased out of the woods by spirits, and asked Zhang Minjing to accompany him back to collect his belongings, as he’d dropped several things when he fled. Witnesses said that they went together into the hills. Neither returned, and we haven’t been able to find any corpses, but there’s certainly something out there. So, I wrote to Wei-xiong-”

“Wait,” Jin Ling said, sitting up straight. “The messenger who brought me the letter gave his name as Zhang Minjing. I’m sure of it.”

Hanguang-Jun didn’t react, but Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang looked at each other. “It sounds like Zhang Minjing is trying to lure people in,” Wei Wuxian said. “First the Nie Sect, and now he’s expanding his efforts.”

Nie Huaisang made a face like he was about to protest, but Hanguang-Jun spoke first. “How many people saw the woodcutter request aid from Zhang Minjing?”

“It seemed like it was quite a spectacle with shouting and pleading. We verified the same story from multiple people. Zhang Minjing tried to convince him to wait until more cultivators arrived, but the woodcutter claimed he would go with or without him, and eventually he was convinced.” Nie Huaisang tapped his ever present fan against his arm. “I think it starts with the woodcutter, don't you agree?"

“Whoever the instigator is, if someone is trying to bring people here it’s working,” Wei Wuxian said. “Nie-xiong, you’re sure you don’t know anything else?” His voice was even, but Nie Huaisang twitched like he’d been accused.

“This isn’t one of mine,” he said. “But there was one more thing. The villagers said that the hills are prone to sudden rain storms. It seems that there were two storms on the day that Zhang Minjing disappeared. One before the woodcutter came into the town, and one after they had left together.”

Jin Ling glanced at Lan Sizhui to see if he recognized any significance in that, and Sizhui nodded at him. Storms could mean nothing, just a natural weather pattern, but they could also be caused by strong pools of energy. Two storms in one day coinciding with spirits attacking and a cultivator disappearing seemed unlikely to be unrelated.

“Well, I think we should go take a look in the hills, don’t you, Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian drank the rest of his tea, stood and stretched. Hanguang-Jun stood as well. “Nie-xiong, you should probably leave. We can investigate here, and you can go looking for Zhang Minjing before he drags more people all the way out here. Zewu-Jun was headed to Qinghe to speak to you anyway, so you can get him to help.”

“Ah, well,” Nie Huaisang began, but Hanguang-Jun interrupted him.

“I’ll write a letter to take with you to my brother,” he said, in a tone that allowed no room for argument, and Nie Huaisang drooped in defeat.

“Cheer up, Nie-xiong,” Wei Wuxian said brightly. “It could be worse. Sizhui, Jin Ling, finish up and we’ll go. Nie-xiong, can you point me in the right direction?”

The hills surrounding the village seemed benign to the extreme, especially considering that they were in Qishan. As they walked further from the village and continued to find nothing at all dangerous, dead, or concerning, Jin Ling had started to lose interest and let his mind wander. 

Hanguang-Jun had sent Jin Ling and Lan Sizhui to retrace the Nie sect’s investigation before leaving town, and it seemed as though  everything had happened like Nie Huaisang had said. Jin Ling wondered what Zhang Minjing had thought he was doing when he had delivered the letter. Was he trying to draw attention to something the Nie sect had done? Was he planning to assassinate them all?

Or maybe there really wasn’t anything out there, and they’d been drawn out to the middle of nowhere so they’d be out of the way for some sort of surprise attack, but Zewu-Jun wouldn’t let that happen. 

“Lan Zhan, how about here?”

Seemingly oblivious to everything behind him, Wei Wuxian had led them on a winding path through the woods, sometimes in a straight line like he had a destination in mind, but more often on a meandering path like he was out on a gentle stroll instead of an investigation. Every so often, he’d looked at Hanguang-Jun, asked that same question, and then continued when Hanguang-Jun shook his head. 

This time though, Hanguang-Jun nodded and waved his arm in front of himself. Wangji appeared, and he struck several notes on the guqin before stopping. 

Jin Ling sighed, recognizing the opening of Inquiry. At least now they could get some answers instead of continuing to wander. After a short wait, the guqin strings rustled gently.

“The spirit is weak,” Hanguang-Jun said. 

“Maybe it’s one for me, then?” Wei Wuxian said, already halfway to sitting on the ground. “If it’s weak, I won’t have anything to worry about with Empathy.”

“Not yet,” Hanguang-Jun said, playing again. He closed his eyes as the spirit responded, and paused. “It’s the woodcutter,” he said. “He’s fading away. Wei Ying?”

“Right,” said Wei Wuxian, and dropped to the ground, his eyes already closing. “Come in,” he said, and then was silent.

The silence broke a moment later, when his eyes flew back open and he gasped in a desperate-sounding breath, and then another, his hands scrabbling at his chest and higher, toward his neck.

Lan Sizhui grabbed Jin Ling’s arm, his fingers digging in with surprising strength. “Hanguang-Jun?” Lan Sizhui said in a high-pitched squawk but Hanguang-Jun was already moving, grabbing Wei Wuxian’s hands before he could dig his fingernails into his throat and pulling them away.

There was no way this was what Wei Wuxian had intended when he’d initiated Empathy, but Jin Ling didn’t know how to stop it. Yi City and another spirit jumped in mind, and he grabbed for his YunmengJiang bell and rang it hard so it would sound above Wei Wuxian’s gasps for air.  The bell had dragged him out before, and Jin Ling hoped it would work again.

“Wei Ying,” Hanguang-Jun called, releasing Wei Wuxian’s hands to hold his upper arms, and Wei Wuxian jerked as he was touched, his eyes opening and his laboured breathing abruptly quieting.

“Lan Zhan,” he said, his hands coming up and running over Hanguang-Jun’s forearms. 

Jin Ling realized he was shaking, and crossed his arms across his body. The woods around them felt suddenly oppressive, and Lan Sizhui could feel it too, if the way he had stepped closer to Jin Ling was any indication.

“What happened?” Jin Ling demanded.

Wei Wuxian tipped his head to look at Jin Ling. “A drowning,” he said lightly, touching at his throat. “Lan Zhan, try Inquiry again. There isn’t enough left of our friend the woodcutter to remember anything about the day he died except for the feeling of water filling his lungs. He doesn't know who was responsible for his death, but I can feel something else here.”

“I can feel something too,” Lan Sizhui said. “It’s resentful energy, isn’t it?”

Hanguang-Jun pulled Wei Wuxian to his feet and had to catch him as he staggered to the side. Jin Ling was on his other side, supporting Wei Wuxian by his elbow before he'd even consciously decided to move, and got an odd and annoyed look from Wei Wuxian for his troubles. 

Jin Ling paused, surprised, but before he could react to Wei Wuxian’s glare Lan Sizhui stepped up as well, ready to catch Wei Wuxian if he listed the other way, and the irritated look on Wei Wuxian's face turned into a grin. "I'm fine, I'm fine," he said lightly. "I just forgot to breathe for a moment, that's all. Lan Zhan, let's find out what's going on here."

Hanguang-Jun held on for a moment longer before circling back to his guqin. His eyes narrowed, and he played the opening to Inquiry again. This time even Jin Ling, whose exposure to the musical cultivation of the Lan sect was limited to what he had heard during night hunts, could hear the power reverberating through the trees.

The air, which had been quiet and heavy, stirred gently, and the guqin sounded one sharp note, much stronger than the woodcutter’s spirit had been.

Hanguang-Jun played again, quick bursts with pauses for the spirit to answer, but didn’t translate for a long moment. From the corner of his eye, Jin Ling could see Lan Sizhui’s brow furrowing in confusion, and even though Hanguang-Jun’s face was neutral, his fingers seemed to be hitting the strings with more power than necessary.

Finally, he stopped. “I don’t know what this is.”

Lan Sizhui said, “Hanguang-Jun, did it say that it was not a person? Did I understand that right?”

He nodded slightly, and looked to Wei Wuxian. “They said they were not young or old, male or female, and couldn’t say where they were from or what they were called. They then said they were not human.”

“A monster then? Maybe a yao?” Wei Wuxian said, shrugging his arm out of Jin Ling's hold to gesture. “Could a monster respond to Inquiry?”

Hanguang-Jun shook his head, and played again. This time, the response was slower, almost coy.

“What did it say?” Jin Ling asked.

“Hanguang-Jun asked what it was doing here,” Lan Sizhui translated. “The response was ‘Waiting.’”

“Waiting for what?” Jin Ling asked, but Hanguang-Jun was already playing again. Sizhui pointed at the guqin, as if Jin Ling needed him to say that was the very question Hanguang-Jun had asked.

“Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian lifted his head suddenly, looking up into the sky. “Did you hear that?”

Focused on the guqin, Jin Ling hadn’t heard anything but the rustle of trees in the increasing wind, but Wei Wuxian looked troubled. Hanguang-Jun didn’t look up, his eyes closed as he repeated the last melody.

No response came.

“It’s still here,” Wei Wuxian said. “A spirit couldn’t lie or refuse to answer, not to you, so it must not be a spirit.”

Hanguang-Jun played a third time, and when the guqin stayed silent, he opened his eyes. Jin Ling saw the spark of something dangerous in them, and decided his questions could wait.

“I could try Empathy again, but I don’t think I should,” Wei Wuxian offered, still looking upward. “It’s aware of us, though, and maybe it would respond more-”

“No.” Hanguang-Jun’s voice was like a whip crack, and in a sudden movement he had a grip on Wei Wuxian’s wrist. “Don’t do that.”

“Are you crazy?” Jin Ling said, nearly at the same time. “You’d do Empathy without even knowing what it is?”

Lan Sizhui laid a hand on Wei Wuxian’s arm, just above where Hanguang-Jun was holding him. “Senior Wei, please don’t suggest things like that.”

Wei Wuxian laughed. “Ah, Sizhui, you too? With all three of you so worried, I guess I won’t. But what should we do then?”

Lan Sizhui frowned. “How did the woodcutter drown? Could Zhang Minjing have done it?”

“He certainly died violently,” Wei Wuxian said. “His spirit was nearly destroyed by whatever did it. But if he was drowned by Zhang Minjing, where did it happen? And why? How did he go from begging Zhang Minjing to help him to being murdered by him?”

“The woodcutter said he’d been chased by spirits,” Jin Ling said, thinking back to what the townspeople had said. “But the Nie cultivators found nothing back here, and we’ve found nothing back here except for this unknown creature. Isn’t it more likely that the creature killed the woodcutter and then…” he paused, not knowing how to explain Zhang Minjing delivering that letter to him and pretending it was from Nie Huaisang.

"If the rain was heavy enough, could there have been a flash flood?" Lan Sizhui suggested. "They could both have drowned, but possibly Zhang Minjing had some unfinished business and stood up again?"

"On his own, so quickly?" Jin Ling said. "He didn't look dead when I met him, and I'd never met him before, so what would he want with me?"

A faint rustling of rain hitting leaves emerged from the background noise of the woods, and Jin Ling was distracted from further thought by the dark clouds that had rolled over the hills while they'd been talking.

"When did the weather change?" Jin Ling said, frowning. "There weren't any clouds earlier."

"Hills and mountains can both have sudden weather shifts," Lan Sizhui said. "But, Hanguang-Jun, the villagers said that there were two sudden storms the day Zhang Minjing disappeared. Could that be how the creature hunts? Maybe Zhang Minjing did die here and came out searching for help, to prevent more death?"

Jin Ling found the idea of a very recently dead ghost having the inclination to help people unlikely, but Lan Sizhui didn’t seem convinced by his own theory either, and at that moment the first raindrops to reach where they were standing spattered onto the ground nearby, so he let it pass. Jin Ling adjusted his grip on Suihua, just in case something emerged from the trees behind the rain. 

Hanguang-Jun looked as he always did, but Jin Ling saw him glance at Wei Wuxian, who was still absently rubbing a finger along his throat, and then back at Jin Ling and Lan Sizhui. "We'll go back to town."

"Ah, why?" Wei Wuxian asked. "We should stay and see if anything comes."

"We're not prepared," Hanguang-Jun said, drawing Bichen.

Wei Wuxian shook his head, and Jin Ling was not going to stand in the rain listening to them argue and expecting a monster. The rain wasn't heavy yet, but it was falling steadily and would soak through his robes quickly. He drew Suihua and said loudly, "Let's go then. Maybe we can talk to some other people who will know more about the weather here."

Lan Sizhui was already on his sword, waiting for them. He was frowning and watching Wei Wuxian, who accepted Hanguang-Jun's hand after a moment longer of grumbling and stepped onto Bichen. Jin Ling thanked the merciful gods that even Wei Wuxian would fold in the face of Hanguang-Jun's determination, and leapt onto Suihua, leading the way up above the trees and back towards the town. 

They outpaced the leading edge of the storm easily, but looking back at it made Jin Ling's heart race in his chest as it rolled in, especially from his vantage point above the trees and most of the hills. There was a distinct hint of darkness about it, even if he ignored the sheer height of the clouds and power of the wind, but the feeling faded as the wind dried his clothes and they moved away.

Hanguang-Jun took charge when they arrived back in the town, one hand on Wei Wuxian’s elbow like it was stuck there as he led the way back to the teahouse. Wei Wuxian followed along quietly and Lan Sizhui tailed along close enough that Jin Ling thought he might accidentally tread on Hanguang-Jun’s robes.

They took two rooms above the teahouse, probably the same ones that Nie Huaisang had just vacated as he headed back to Qinghe, and something in Jin Ling decided not to point out that he certainly could afford his own room and didn’t need to share one with Lan Sizhui. It wasn’t as if Lan Sizhui was annoying, and Hanguang-Jun’s facial expression was somehow even flatter than normal in a way that dared Jin Ling to counter anything he said. He decided to take his lead from Wei Wuxian, who knew Hanguang-Jun’s moods better than anyone and had clearly decided to go along with whatever he wanted.

“A-Yuan, A-Ling,” Wei Wuxian said as Hanguang-Jun gently pushed him down to sit on one of the beds in their room. Lan Sizhui and Jin Ling had stopped in the doorway by mutual and silent agreement, not sure what to do. “You two can go out into the town if you want to investigate a little more, but don’t go back into the woods without us.”

Lan Sizhui nodded. “Are you feeling well, Senior Wei?” he asked, getting a laugh in response.

“Of course! I probably shouldn’t have performed Empathy with that spirit, but I’m fine now. It’s not exactly my first time dying - ah,” he correctly hastily, wincing, “I mean, I’ve done Empathy with lots of spirits-”

“Wei Ying is going to rest now,” Hanguang-Jun announced.

“Anyway, we found out a lot, didn’t we?” Wei Wuxian said determinedly. “So you two should think about it and see if you can figure out what’s going on here.”

“Yes,” Hanguang-Jun said. “Close the door when you leave.”

Lan Sizhui slid the door shut immediately, and Jin Ling felt less foolish about his pounding heart when Lan Sizhui turned to him with a frown and colour rising in his face. Lan Sizhui looked at Jin Ling for a moment, and then said, “Well, let’s go. I saw a market earlier, maybe there will still be some stalls open.”

His voice rang out bright and cheerful, in direct opposition to his upset face, and Lan Sizhui led the way down the stairs and out into the late afternoon. Storm clouds still sat on the horizon over the hills, but here in town the sun was shining down.

“Are you alright?” Jin Ling asked, not sure what to do. Normally it wasn’t any of his business when people were sad around him and he would just ignore it, but it wasn’t like anyone else was there to be nice to Lan Sizhui. 

He still looked upset, but he took a deep breath and the red began to fade from his cheeks. “Yes,” he said. “Senior Wei said he was fine, and Hanguang-Jun is with him. I don’t need to be concerned.”

“It seems like you are, though,” Jin Ling mumbled, watching Lan Sizhui out of the corner of his eye.

“It seems like you were a bit concerned too, weren’t you?” Lan Sizhui said, a bit louder than Jin Ling had.

“Well, he’s my uncle, sort of,” Jin Ling said defensively. “It’s normal.”

“Of course,” Lan Sizhui said, in a tone that was so gentle that Jin Ling cringed a little. He didn’t need or want Lan Sizhui to patronize him like a baby.

“Let’s go,” he said briskly. “There must be someone around here who can tell us about those storms.”

There wasn’t, as it turned out. Everyone seemed to know that the hills were dangerous, but no one seemed to recall any mysterious disappearances, or anyone who had lost their mind, or if anyone even been possessed by some sort of spirit. Until Zhang Minjing had realized that resentful energy was gathering in the hills, nothing seemed to have actually happened to anyone, despite what the townspeople had thought.

As far as Jin Ling could tell, everything started and ended with Zhang Minjing, but even that couldn’t be clearly decided yet. Lan Sizhui had spoken to his tearful parents, who still lived in the town, and they had been obviously truthful in their mourning and repeated the same story as everyone else. Zhang Minjing had been concerned about resentful energy and warned people to keep away from the hills. The woodcutter had disregarded his warning and then begged for his help. Zhang Minjing had accompanied him out to retrieve his tools and neither had been heard from again.

“But Zhang Minjing was heard from again,” Jin Ling said, poking at his dinner later, after they’d returned to the teahouse. “We just didn’t think we should tell his parents that yet.”

Hanguang-Jun and Lan Sizhui didn’t respond, but Jin Ling was familiar with the Lan Sect rules about speaking while eating by now and didn’t expect them to. Wei Wuxian leaned forward on his elbow, chin in hand.

“We can let Nie-xiong handle that when he’s found him. The situation is too unclear right now to try and explain it to them. We don’t know if he can be saved or not, or even if he needs to be saved.” 

“What are we going to do, then, Senior Wei?” Lan Sizhui said, giving up on his dinner and joining in the conversation. “Clear out the resentful energy?”

“It isn’t just resentful energy anymore,” Wei Wuxian said. “It might have been at first, but resentful energy alone doesn’t have a purpose, and whatever we found certainly has that. It told Lan Zhan it was ‘waiting’, remember? It seems like something was laying low out there, and only recently decided that it was time to start acting. It would explain why the people here haven’t experienced anything before, but we felt that there was quite a powerful presence out there.”

“Clearing out the resentful energy would weaken it,” Hanguang-Jun said. “It would lower the risk to the people here while we determine how to remove it permanently.”

“It would,” Wei Wuxian said thoughtfully. “But it might be a little dangerous, right? It hasn’t tried to do anything to us yet, but I do think it did something terrible to our poor friend the woodcutter and to Zhang Minjing as well.”

Jin Ling had been thinking along that line since listening to Zhang Minjing’s parents cry. “You think it possessed him, right?”

Hanguang-Jun shook his head, but didn’t seem to be disagreeing. “That level of planning and forethought would be very rare in a creature cultivated from resentful energy. It would mean that it deliberately trapped Zhang Minjing using the woodcutter, then possessed his body and is attempting to use him to lure in more cultivators. If that’s the case, we must be cautious.”

“Can it be possession though?” Lan Sizhui asked, frowning. “He took the message directly to Jin Ling and still claimed to be from the Nie Sect. Doesn’t that mean that he must have had some knowledge of who he was before?”

They thought for a moment. A truly possessed person would solely have the experience of the spirit doing the possessing. Either the being in the hills had knowledge of the state of the world, or Zhang Minjing was willingly helping it, or whatever had happened to him wasn’t quite possession.

“We should start by clearing out the resentful energy,” Hanguang-Jun said. “Sizhui, in the morning you will return to the Cloud Recesses and bring back Uncle and anyone else available. Brother will likely come here when Sect Leader Nie tells him what he knows, but Jin Ling, you should go to the Unclean Realm and be sure of it.”

“Jin Ling should go to Lotus Pier,” Wei Wuxian said. “YunmengJiang is the closest of the major sects, and Jiang Cheng can send a messenger on to Zewu-Jun.” He and Hanguang-Jun seemed to have a silent argument, and Wei Wuxian said with finality, “Lan Zhan, we might need help quickly. We don’t know what we’re facing, but I could feel it was strong.”

“We should limit the number of people coming here,” Hanguang-Jun said. “It sent Zhang Minjing out to bring people in. We should not do what it wanted.”

“What else can we do?” Wei Wuxian asked, leaning close to Hanguang-Jun. “We can’t leave it here, but we shouldn’t stay. If it’s a trap, let it be a trap. We won’t go blindly charging in to spring it.”

“I’ll go to Lotus Pier,” Jin Ling declared. “Uncle will help. But what will you do?”

“We will monitor the situation,” said Hanguang-Jun, without a glance at Wei Wuxian, who immediately frowned.

“Lan Zhan, don’t you think we should try to disperse some of the resentful energy now?”

“I do not.”

Wei Wuxian was still frowning, almost verging on a scowl. It was the most annoyed face that Jin Ling had ever seen him directing at Hanguang-Jun, but he didn’t argue any further.

There didn’t seem to be anything more to discuss, and none of them were in a mood to talk about lighter topics. Wei Wuxian sulked his way up the stairs behind Hanguang-Jun, and Jin Ling followed Lan Sizhui into their room and shut the door with some relief at escaping the tense atmosphere.

Jin Ling busied himself digging through his belongings, just to have something to do. “Sect Leader Jin?”

Lan Sizhui was sitting on his bed, looking pensive. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure. It just seems as though something isn’t right.”

“Oh.” There wasn’t much to say to that, so Jin Ling left it at that. Lan Sizhui looked away again, distracted by whatever he was concerned about. On an impulse, Jin Ling said quickly, “You don’t have to call me so formally.”

“What’s that?” Lan Sizhui said, turning quickly back to Jin Ling.

“You can call me Jin Ling,” he said, looking away. “If you want. I suppose.”

He stole a glance back, and was caught by Lan Sizhui smiling at him. “I will then,” he said. “My friends call me Sizhui, so you should as well.”

Jin Ling found himself smiling back.

Jin Ling wasn't sure at first what woke him up. The moon was shining through the window, illuminating Sizhui, still sound asleep in the other bed, and the temptation to lay back down and try to sleep again was strong.

The floorboards creaked outside the door of the room, and Jin Ling froze. There was a presence in the hall, and it was far too late for it to be the innkeeper. He slid his hand across the bed to where Suihua lay, wrapped his fingers silently around the hilt, and waited.

There was another tiny creak, one that Jin Ling wouldn't have heard if he hadn't been listening so closely, but slightly further down the hallway, and he could hear slow footsteps walking away. They were too light and even to be anything but a human determined to avoid being noticed, and Jin Ling slid out of bed and to the door, sliding it open just wide enough to slip out once he heard the intruder on the stairs down to the common room.

He looked back at Sizhui, trying to decide if he should take the time and risk of being overheard to wake him, and shook his head. If it was just a person spying on them or sneaking around, he could handle it.

The hallway was empty and dark, just the moonlight from the open door casting his shadow on the wall opposite. Jin Ling slid the door mostly shut behind him and followed in the footsteps of the person he was stalking to the end of the hall.

When he peered around the corner and down the stairs, though, a familiar silhouette was looking back at him. 

Wei Wuxian held his finger to his lips and beckoned Jin Ling with his other hand. Jin Ling couldn't help but be annoyed that Wei Wuxian had clearly heard him so quickly, but at least he wasn’t being sent back to his room while Wei Wuxian crept around on his own.

Jin Ling followed him down the stairs and they were in the darkened common room when he turned again. Jin Ling realized that Wei Wuxian was fully dressed despite the hour, and he was suddenly too aware that he was out of his room in not nearly enough clothes. At least he had a sword, so he wasn’t completely unprepared, though Wei Wuxian had Chenqing at his waist and so wasn’t exactly defenceless himself. 

"Did you hear something?" Jin Ling whispered, checking the windows for moving shadows.

Wei Wuxian looked down at him and nodded, mouth set in a grim line. He took a step forward and then jerked, burying his face in his hands and bending over double. Jin Ling grabbed at his shoulder, saving him from crashing head first into the ground.

"Jin Ling?" he said, voice croaking.

"What's wrong with you?" Jin Ling hissed, getting his arms around Wei Wuxian's waist and holding him up. Wei Wuxian's arm came up around his shoulder, his hand clutching at Jin Ling's robes.

"Jin Ling, Jin Ling," Wei Wuxian repeated, his voice still nearly silent but his eyes wide and scared. "Get Lan Zhan. Run."

Before Jin Ling could call out, Wei Wuxian's face changed again, smoothing out into neutrality. Jin Ling let go of him, every instinct screaming to run, to get away, but Wei Wuxian's hand on his shoulder abruptly became an arm around his throat, squeezing impossibly tight.

Jin Ling clawed at Wei Wuxian's arm as he was lifted off the ground, too far to kick at the floor to make noise. He couldn't get leverage to push away, couldn't get his hand around Wei Wuxian's wrist to pull his arm off, and without air he couldn't make a sound.

The arm around his throat tightened again, and the world faded away.

Chapter Text

When Jin Ling opened his eyes, everything was quiet except the inside of his head, which throbbed mercilessly in time with his heartbeat. There was no moon shining through the windows, though he thought there should be for some reason, and the room was dark. 

He was laying flat on a hard floor, which was confusing in itself. Floors were not a place he would normally choose to sleep, since a floor usually meant there was a bed nearby. With a little effort, he rolled over onto his side, dragging his arm across his body to push himself up, and his hand brushed against something hard. Jin Ling reached out curiously, running his hand across the object, and immediately recognized the decorations on Suihua’s sheath. He wrapped his hand around his sword and suddenly remembered what he was doing on the floor.

Jin Ling leapt up, holding himself firmly steady despite the wobbly feeling in his knees, and drew Suihua with a rasp. 

The glow of his sword illuminated an empty room.

Throwing caution aside, Jin Ling raced to the door of the inn, throwing it open and not stopping until he was in the middle of a deserted street. Here, there was still faint moonlight as clouds moved past, and Jin Ling searched for any sign of movement, some trace of where Wei Wuxian could be hiding.

He had left Sizhui asleep.

The realization had his heart thundering in his ears. Wei Wuxian had choked him unconscious, but had he left? Sizhui and Hanguang-Jun were asleep upstairs, defenceless, and anything could have happened to them. Anything could be happening to them.

Jin Ling’s bare feet scraped against the gravel of the road as he sprang back towards the inn. He leapt across the common room and back up the stairs, not stopping until he was back to the room he’d been sharing with Sizhui.

He flung the door open with a crash, and let out a sigh of relief as he saw Sizhui jerk awake and reach for his sword with a gasp. “It’s Jin Ling,” he said. “Get up, hurry!”

“What happened?” Sizhui said, voice rough, but Jin Ling was already moving again, further down the hall to Hanguang-Jun and Wei Wuxian’s room.

The door opened before he got there, and Jin Ling stopped, raising Suihua in front of himself. It was Hanguang-Jun who came out though, hair unbound and sword drawn.

He stopped when he saw Jin Ling, eyes lifting to search the rest of the hall before settling back on Jin Ling with new intensity. “Where is Wei Ying?”

“I don’t know,” Jin Ling said, and Hanguang-Jun’s eyes narrowed. Jin Ling hurried to add, “I heard him sneaking out and followed him, but he knocked me unconscious, but right before he did he told me to get you. I think he’s been possessed by that thing from the woods,” he finished weakly, losing his track of his words as Hanguang-Jun’s face of stone changed into something else, something almost scared.

"How long ago?" Hanguang-Jun asked, his hand tightening on Bichen.

Jin Ling had no idea how long it had been. Moments? Hours? His lack of an answer was enough for Hanguang-Jun, who sheathed Bichen and turned back toward his room.

“Hanguang-Jun, what do we do?” Sizhui asked from behind Jin Ling.

“Get dressed,” Hanguang-Jun said, disappearing into his room without elaboration.

Sizhui reacted first, grabbing Jin Ling by the elbow and dragging him the first steps back to their room. Jin Ling caught up quickly, and they dressed in a silent race, throwing their robes on and tying hasty knots.

Jin Ling was shoving his feet into his shoes when Hanguang-Jun stalked by the open door to the room, not slowing or even glancing their way as he passed. Jin Ling picked up Suihua and chased after him, Sizhui on his heels.

The wind had changed in the short time that Jin Ling had been inside. The clouds were heavier, the stars disappearing behind cover, and all traces of the coming dawn were covered by a gathering storm. 

Hanguang-Jun pulled a talisman from his sleeve and activated it, closing his eyes. Jin Ling recognized some of the characters, but they were written in a familiar and messy hand. It looked like it might be for tracking, but it could just as easily be for lighting candles.

A flash of lightning in the distance broke the darkness, followed by a long, low rumble of thunder. It was storming again over the hills.

The talisman crumbled to dust in Hanguang-Jun’s hand, and he looked sharply toward where the lightning bolt had struck. 

"Stay here," he said. "If I am not back by dawn, leave for Lotus Pier and Unclean Realm." Then he was on Bichen and gone, a white flag against a dark sky.

"Senior Wei must be there," Sizhui said, concern on his face and his hand hovering near his sword with indecision. 

"Yes," Jin Ling said. He didn't hesitate to draw out Suihua. "Are you coming?"

"Hanguang-Jun said-"

"Do you do everything Hanguang-Jun says?" Jin Ling snapped, before realizing that Sizhui probably did. Jin Ling's relationship with Uncle was very different from Sizhui's adoration of Hanguang-Jun. "Whatever that is, it’s got Wei Wuxian. He wouldn't hurt me, so that wasn't him. Do you want to take the risk that Hanguang-Jun can't save him on his own?" He stepped up onto Suihua and rose into the air. "Are you coming?" he repeated, not waiting for an answer before he chased after Hanguang-Jun, who was barely visible.

Sizhui appeared beside him after only a moment, and Jin Ling nodded in approval. Together, they raced after Hanguang-Jun.

Catching up was impossible. Hanguang-Jun was faster than either of them and had a head start, so Jin Ling just tried to keep him in sight. Even without that, though, it was obvious that they were headed back towards where they had encountered the being the previous afternoon.

How had Wei Wuxian made it so far? Had Jin Ling been unconscious for long enough that even someone on foot could have returned? Maybe he had. They'd walked for hours to find the place, but mostly on a meandering path without a destination. If he had come directly back and made an effort, it would have been much faster.

The sound of the storm grew in intensity as they approached it. Trees bent under the wind, and another loud crack of lightning startled Jin Ling enough that he had to rebalance. Hanguang-Jun disappeared into the rain without slowing down, and a moment later Jin Ling and Sizhui followed.

The shift was immediate. Jin Ling had to crouch down and draw more deeply on his spiritual energy to hold steady against the wind, and the rain soaked his layers as quickly as if he'd fallen into a river.

He stuck close to Sizhui, and when Hanguang-Jun stopped suddenly, scanning the ground below, they finally caught up to him.

Hanguang-Jun's eyes flashed dangerously when he looked up at them, but he didn't tell them to leave. Instead, he dropped off of Bichen down to the ground, the sword flying after him and into his hand. Jin Ling and Sizhui followed, splashing down onto the muddy ground. 

“Stay close,” Hanguang-Jun said, a blast of rain from above nearly drowning out his words as he turned and moved quickly up the hill, not quite at a run. The trees offered some protection from the wind and water, but not much. The ground was already a mess of temporary streams running downhill, but vaguely visible in front of Hanguang-Jun was a single set of fresh deep tracks, filling with water.

Every other depression in the ground was already full, and it was clear to Jin Ling what that meant. Someone had very recently come this way, struggling up the hill in the mud. They’d slipped several times, but continued on. The space between holes in the mud suggested that they’d been running, or trying to run.

It had to be Wei Wuxian, but where was he going?

They crested the hill, and Jin Ling got his answer.

The landscape opened up below to a small lake. There were fewer trees here, and that strong sense of something malicious he’d felt before returned, darker and deeper. The wind howled past his face, making him squint, but couldn’t block out the familiar figure below them, standing waist-deep in the lake and not moving.

“Wei Ying!” Hanguang-Jun was already moving as he shouted, leaping from the top of the hill and towards Wei Wuxian like an arrow through the wind. Jin Ling followed, holding Suihua at the ready.

As they approached, Wei Wuxian looked up at them. The rain was too heavy to read his expression, but as Wei Wuxian’s hand withdrew from the water Jin Ling felt a sudden spike in the energy around the area.

Wei Wuxian’s hand thrust towards them suddenly, and a wave of wind and rain rolled off of it, thundering towards them. Jin Ling countered with Suihua, similar blasts of spiritual power coming from Hanguang-Jun and Sizhui beside him. Even then, the wave still hit Jin Ling with dizzying force, and he had to drop down to the ground and guard his face through the worst of it.

When he could open his eyes again, Hanguang-Jun was standing at the water’s edge with his guqin. “Let him go.”

Sizhui stood just to the side of Jin Ling, and together they watched as Wei Wuxian took a step backwards in response so that the water was lapping at his chest. His face was blank, but he had his hands resting on the water’s surface in a ready position.

“Be on guard,” Hanguang-Jun said without looking away from Wei Wuxian, and then he began to play.

The creature in Wei Wuxian’s body, Jin Ling couldn’t think of it as Wei Wuxian anymore, not with that dead look in its eyes, immediately reacted by flinging blasts of the storm at Hanguang-Jun. Jin Ling was only slightly slower than Sizhui at flanking Hanguang-Jun and deflecting the attacks. These faster attacks were also weaker, and grew weaker still as Hanguang-Jun played relentlessly, so Jin Ling didn’t need all of his attention to stop them and was watching when a spark of light reappeared in Wei Wuxian’s eyes.

Wei Wuxian’s arms dropped into the water and the storm blasts stopped, leaving just Hanguang-Jun’s song over the storm. He looked almost normal, just confused and wet.

"Lan Zhan?" he called, and then he disappeared under the water as though his feet had been pulled out from under him and didn't resurface. 

Jin Ling’s rush into the lake after him was abruptly ended by Hanguang-Jun, who grabbed him and threw him backwards with a sharp, “Stay there.” He caught himself before falling, feet sliding in the wet lake shore, and watched Hanguang-Jun’s white robes vanish into the water.

Sizhui had stepped in to continue the song on the guqin, and Jin Ling stood beside him, Suihua raised and his breath caught in his chest. The storm flagged, and then raged back harder, as if it was frustrated. Each raindrop hitting Jin Ling felt like a blow.

It had been too long, Jin Ling was sure of it. Hanguang-Jun was stronger than most people and could use his cultivation to hold out longer, but Mo Xuanyu had been a weak cultivator and Wei Wuxian still was too. 

Jin Ling found himself moving closer to the lake’s edge. Sizhui called from behind him, “Wait.”

Stopping himself was hard. Jin Ling scanned the surface for any sign of life, but all the movement from the rain made it impossible.

As it turned out, it didn’t matter that he couldn’t see any subtle motion under the lake’s surface, because Hanguang-Jun burst up from the lake in an explosion of water with Wei Wuxian across his shoulders.

He landed behind Sizhui and Jin Ling both, closer to the trees than the water, and had Wei Wuxian off his shoulders and onto his feet before Jin Ling had reached them. Sizhui had brought the guqin, and now cradled it as they watched.

Wei Wuxian was gasping for air, leaning heavily against Hanguang-Jun, who was protecting his face from the storm with his free arm. In between inhales, he forced out, “Stupid!” then “Sorry!” before dropping into a coughing fit.

“Don’t speak yet,” Hanguang-Jun said. “Catch your breath.”

“I’m going to spread that thing across three borders,” Wei Wuxian said anyway as soon as the coughs stopped. “It’s going to learn regret.”

“I might do it first,” Hanguang-Jun said, looking out at the water.

“Ah, right, sorry Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said. “You were worried, right? In that case, four borders, and you can help.” His knees dropped out from under him abruptly, and only Hanguang-Jun was keeping him upright. “Ugh, but not now.”

“What happened?” Jin Ling said, grabbing Wei Wuxian’s arm and pulling it over his shoulders.

“That thing ran me all the way out here,” Wei Wuxian said. “I have to admit this, I’m not used to being the puppet. My body doesn’t seem to be up to it.” He coughed again, then shivered.

“No, what happened before that?” Jin Ling demanded. “You told me to run and get Hanguang-Jun and then you choked me!”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes widened, and he grabbed at Jin Ling’s collar, pulling it down to expose his throat. “I did? Are you hurt?”

“No,” Jin Ling said quickly, grabbing Wei Wuxian’s wrist and pulling his arm further across his shoulders as he felt him slipping. “But you don’t remember? What do you remember?”

“Very little,” Wei Wuxian said flatly. “I was in a bed, and then I was in a lake. I think it snuck in during Empathy and then waited for a chance. I shouldn’t have tried it.”

Jin Ling recalled Wei Wuxian’s glare at him in the moments after Empathy had been interrupted, and his bad mood after Hanguang-Jun had insisted that they wouldn’t attempt anything until help had arrived, and compared it to his more obvious and natural anger now at having been possessed, and couldn’t understand how he’d missed the signs.

“Do you know what it is?” Sizhui asked, leaning closer.

Wei Wuxian frowned. “It’s some kind of… collection of spirits centered on that lake. I’m still not sure why it wasn’t noticed earlier, but we can guess about it when we’re away from it.”

“Should we fight or run?”

Jin Ling looked up at Hanguang-Jun in shock, wondering if the howling wind had made him misunderstand. Hanguang-Jun running from a monster of any kind was incomprehensible.

Hanguang-Jun was looking only at Wei Wuxian, though, and didn’t seem to notice Jin Ling, and Sizhui didn’t protest, so Jin Ling thought before he spoke. The creature was attacking with the storm, and standing up against the incessant wind and rain was becoming harder the longer they stayed. It wasn’t a big drain yet, but Jin Ling was starting to feel the effort.

Jin Ling cast a critical eye over Wei Wuxian. He was prone to exaggeration, but despite his big threats about dispersing the creature Chenqing was still tucked away and his arm was cold and heavy around Jin Ling. He also didn’t have the twinkle in his eye that he would if he was teasing, and Jin Ling realized with a jolt that Hanguang-Jun had only asked because he wasn’t sure if they could defeat it.

Wei Wuxian’s frown turned into a grimace, and he said, “We won’t make it out with the wind this strong. You’ll be blown off your swords as soon as you get on them. It’s fuelled by resentful energy, so maybe if we disperse some of it we’ll be able to make a run for it, but we’ll need help to clear it out entirely.”

Hanguang-Jun nodded, and looked at Jin Ling and Sizhui. “Expect an attack once I begin to play. Try to hold out as long as you can. Wei Ying will support you.” He moved like he was going to take his guqin back from Sizhui but he still had one arm wrapped around Wei Wuxian’s waist, who laughed when he hesitated.

“Just put me down,” he said. “I can play just as well from my knees.”

Wei Wuxian’s arm was still around his shoulders, so Jin Ling had to crouch with them to let him settle to his knees on the wet ground. He held Jin Ling down for a moment after Hanguang-Jun released him, leaning close to quietly say, “Don’t worry, it’s going to be fine.”

“Who said it wasn’t going to be fine?!” Jin Ling flared. “Of course it is!”

“Of course, of course, my mistake,” Wei Wuxian said, sliding his arm off of Jin Ling’s shoulders and patting his hand. 

The blast of wind came without warning as Jin Ling straightened, a sudden roar drowning out all other noise as Jin Ling was knocked off his feet, tumbling over and down into the mud. He squeezed his eyes shut instinctively on impact with the ground, and a torrent of water followed the wind, crashing down over him. The water seemed to pull at him, a sensation of nauseating wrongness settling deep in his chest as the water drained away again.

The feeling didn’t disappear as Jin Ling opened his eyes, and he realized that his grip on Suihua was loosening just before the sword dropped from his fingers. He immediately grabbed at it, his heart pounding in his ears as he forced himself back to his feet. 

Sizhui was in a similar situation, his robes and hair covered in mud that the rain was already rinsing away as he struggled to his knees. Wei Wuxian was scowling, tugging Chenqing out of his belt as he scrubbed his other hand clean on his robes. 

Hanguang-Jun stood alone between them and the lake, his back to Jin Ling. His guqin was in front of him, and he strummed a sharp chord that cut through the sound of the storm like a sword. Wei Wuxian joined him with his flute seconds later, and Jin Ling felt his nausea ease along with the force of the storm.

The next blow was easier to detect, now that Jin Ling had been surprised by it once. As the resentful energy roiled and the storm responded with a gust of wind, Jin Ling struck back with Suihua. Sizhui did the same, the strike of his sword flying past Jin Ling, and they split up again as the wind dissipated harmlessly to flank Hanguang-Jun.

Despite the ease of deflecting the attack, the feeling of incoming danger settled in Jin Ling’s chest and stayed there. 

“Hanguang-Jun, look!” Sizhui shouted from behind him, and Jin Ling twisted around to see Sizhui pointing into the trees at nothing.

“What was it?” Hanguang-Jun snapped out, not missing a beat. 

“A man, I think. Someone was there for a moment.”

Jin Ling looked at Wei Wuxian, who raised an eyebrow at him but continued to play as he tipped his chin, pointing Jin Ling’s attention back outward.

He turned back in time for a man to abruptly appear before him, face calm and sword raised and ready to strike. The flute behind him stopped with a sharp gasp that echoed his own, and Jin Ling was jerked backwards and away by an iron grip on his wrist.

The man dissipated into the wind as Wei Wuxian leapt past Jin Ling and swung Chenqing, stumbling as the resistance of the body disappeared. When he turned back to Jin Ling there was something that was almost fear in his eyes. “Did it get you?” he demanded, grabbing Jin Ling and pressing a hand to his face and then his chest in frantic succession.

“No,” Jin Ling said, too startled to pull away. The sword had slashed through his sleeve as he’d stumbled back. Even if the ghost hadn’t been solid, his blade had been.

“Wei Ying.” Hanguang-Jun’s voice was still cool, and Wei Wuxian’s hand settled on Jin Ling’s shoulder. He could feel it trembling, and that was as unnerving as the appearance and disappearance of the man had been. “Is he injured?”

“No, but we need to get them out of here, Lan Zhan.”

Jin Ling had no time to respond. It was like a barrier had burst, and shadowy figures appeared and vanished around them as quickly as they’d come. Many of them wore red-flamed robes embroidered with sunbursts and looked like cultivators , but nearly as many were dressed as normal people, swinging a club or other makeshift weapon before the rain took them again.

Jin Ling found himself with as many specters swarming him as he could handle, summoning up spiritual power to swing wide arcs with Suihua and dissipate them as they came. Wei Wuxian had spun back behind him, his flute song rising above Hanguang-Jun’s unflinching music in an eerie counterpoint. He didn’t dare break focus again to check on Sizhui behind him, but told himself that Wei Wuxian wouldn’t let anything happen to them. 

Through it all, the storm still raged around them, and Jin Ling was starting to feel its effects in earnest. It was sapping his energy, and his arm was slowing down. The shades of dead cultivators were growing stronger and faster, and the effect of the music was fading.

When he made a mistake, it seemed to happen in slow motion. A woman with blood covering her face ducked under his sword when he swung just a little too clumsily, and her own sword opened a deep gash in his side, sliding through fabric and flesh as he flinched backwards, dodging enough to avoid the direct blow but not fast enough for her to miss entirely.

He stumbled backward as she vanished, burning pain hitting with a shocking intensity. He heard his own name called urgently, and then a massive blast of energy cleared the area of spirits and Hanguang-Jun had him by his arms. 

Distracted by the shock, Jin Ling realized belatedly that Hanguang-Jun was talking to him. “What?” he said, his tongue thick in his mouth. 

Hanguang-Jun didn’t repeat himself, his eyes widening almost imperceptibly as he let go of Jin Ling and spun around, just in time to cut through another massive blast of wind with Bichen. Even scattered by Hanguang-Jun, the blast was still enough for Jin Ling to stagger backwards under the force of it, the wound in his side screaming at him as the rain whipped at him. He wrapped his left hand around his side to hold it steady so he could raise Suihua again with his right, and nearly dropped his sword as the motion pulled at the cut even with his hand trying to hold it stable.

One set of careful hands appeared on either side of him, Sizhui sheathing his sword and wrapping an arm around Jin Ling’s back and Wei Wuxian stepping in front of him. Jin Ling frowned at Wei Wuxian, his pale face and chattering teeth obvious even in the re-intensifying storm. 

“You look terrible,” he said flatly. 

“Think about yourself,” Wei Wuxian retorted without a pause. “You’re like a drowned rat right now.” Hanguang-Jun swung Bichen again, and they all braced themselves as the remnants of another wave washed over them. “Clearing the resentful energy is too slow. There’s too much to do it from the inside while it’s trying to kill us.”

“Then what do we do?” Sizhui said, and even he sounded worried now.

“Fortunately for us, overwhelming amounts of resentful energy is something I’m greatly familiar with. I’ll figure something out, if-”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes widened in shock. He stopped talking abruptly and spun around, dragging talismans out of his sleeves. A moment later, Jin Ling felt it too. A massive rush of resentful energy was boiling out of the lake, gathering so densely that it was visible. 

“Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian said, his back tense and straight. “I need your help with this.”

Hanguang-Jun sheathed Bichen and stepped closer to Wei Wuxian. “Stay behind us,” he said, without looking back. Sizhui’s grip on him tightened, and Jin Ling couldn’t help the flinch.

There was barely a moment more before the resentful energy came crashing down. Wei Wuxian activated his talismans, the energy silhouetting him against the rushing darkness. A second glow came from Hanguang-Jun, as he raised a hand and poured his own energy into the talismans on top Wei Wuxian’s. 

They stood together, glowing with power in the instant before the wave crashed over them.

Jin Ling sagged against Sizhui as resentful energy washed over them, Hanguang-Jun and Wei Wuxian a bulwark in the storm but not enough to stop it. His eyes were forced shut by the onslaught, tears streaming from them without his control, and so it came as a shock when the wave of energy hit him full force, knocking Sizhui away and sending him tumbling through the air.

Unable to tell up from down and expecting a harsh impact, Jin Ling got his arms up to protect his head and neck just in time to first bounce off the ground and then roll to a painful stop, the cut in his side lost in a wave of other complaints. The roaring in his ears drowned out all other sounds, and when it had faded Jin Ling was left in a quiet place.

The rain had stopped.

Getting to his feet was as hard as it had ever been, his hands sliding across the mud and forcing him to readjust as he moved slowly, trying to hold his wounded side still. When he’d made it upright, he slowly rotated on the spot, unable to twist without shooting pain.

The lake that had been so threatening lay quiet and still, the shore churned with footprints but nothing moving around him. Suihua was a gleaming exception to the mud, and Jin Ling held out his hand, calling it to him. His spiritual energy moved sluggishly through him, exhausted.

With his sword in hand, he felt more secure, but even more alone. Without an immediate threat, he didn’t know what to do except make his way towards the trees. Sizhui, Hanguang-Jun, Wei Wuxian, they must have been thrown further, but they had to be nearby.

They must be hidden by the scrub at the treeline. Jin Ling stumbled and slipped his way through the mud, clutching his robes over his side and trying to bite back the pathetic whimpering that kept slipping out of him.

“Lan Sizhui?” he called, pausing for a response. “Wei Wuxian?” It was silent. “Hanguang-Jun?”

Finally, he heard a faint response, and he scrambled the last steps toward it. He found Sizhui curled up on his side, one arm pinned underneath his body and the other at his temple, blood trickling down his face from a wound hidden by his palm.

Jin Ling dropped to his knees beside him without thought, and found himself bent double in agony by the shock of the impact, barely keeping enough presence of mind to lay Suihua down beside him. When he could think again, Sizhui’s eyes were open and he was watching Jin Ling as blood trickled over his nose and lips. Jin Ling cautiously reached out, lifting Sizhui’s hand to reveal an impact wound just above his ear, the skin split and bloody but not all the way to the bone underneath.

“Jin Ling?” Sizhui said, slurring his name into one syllable. “Head hurts.” He shifted minutely, and his breath caught. “Arm too. What happened?”

He ignored the panicked thumping of his heart, trying to focus on what he should do. He’d never been in this situation before, pain and fear fogging his brain and making it impossible to think.

Sizhui solved it for him, then, rolling his head up in an effort to look around. “Hanguang-Jun?” he asked, his voice breaking over the words, and Jin Ling grabbed for Suihua again to lever himself to his feet. Hanguang-Jun would fix it. He just had to find him.

A bloody hand holding his sleeve stopped him, Sizhui’s eyes fixed on his. “Where are you going?” 

“I’m going to find Hanguang-Jun,” he tried. “He can help you.”

“...Find?” With effort, Sizhui lifted his head, pulling himself up with Jin Ling’s sleeve. His eyes widened with sudden recognition, and Sizhui pushed off the ground hard with his other arm, which buckled and collapsed underneath him as he cried out and grabbed at his forearm.

“Sizhui!” Jin Ling tried to catch him, but with his left hand tangled up in holding his side together all he managed was to fall with Sizhui, half on top of him and half on the ground. 

“Where are they?” Sizhui said urgently, focus returning to his eyes after a moment of pained breathing. “Hanguang-Jun! Senior Wei?” he called, wriggling out from underneath Jin Ling.

Jin Ling gasped as Sizhui jostled him. “Stop!” he said, clutching at his side and pushing himself off of Sizhui as quickly as he could manage. 

Sizhui staggered to his feet as soon as Jin Ling was off of him, reaching back down to Jin Ling and pulling him up one-handed. Jin Ling scrabbled to grab Suihua as Sizhui tugged at him, unsure if he’d be able to summon the spiritual energy to call it again and knowing he wouldn’t be able to bend down.

“Come on,” Sizhui demanded. “They can’t be far.”

Jin Ling followed.

A drop of rain hit his shoulder.

Chapter Text

The ground had held together better under the cover of the trees, making walking easier. Every step made Jin Ling grit his teeth and hold back a whimper, but Sizhui’s sword arm hung broken, his sword gone on top of his head injury, so if he wasn’t complaining, Jin Ling wouldn’t either.

Occasionally he felt a raindrop hit, but it seemed that the creature had exhausted itself with the final attack. Jin Ling could hardly sense the resentful energy anymore, but the weariness that he felt at his core was a sharp reminder that they would be nearly helpless if the storm came again.

Sizhui winced every time he shouted, but didn’t stop calling for Hanguang-Jun and Wei Wuxian, pausing for an answer each time. As time dragged on and they cut deeper and deeper circles through the trees in their search, Jin Ling’s unspoken fear that they wouldn’t find them got stronger and stronger. The two of them had been standing in front, using all their strength to protect them. When they’d been overwhelmed, they must have taken the worst of it.

“Wei Wuxian!” he yelled sharply, louder than he’d dared to before. 

He stopped moving, waiting and listening, and some kind of indecipherable noise reached his ears. Jin Ling didn’t wait for anything else, cutting through the brush back towards the sound.

White robes were spread over black, drag marks visible on the ground between where a body had struck it and where Wei Wuxian was slumped over with Hanguang-Jun lying half on top of him. He had crawled, Jin Ling thought, struck into stillness by the way that Hanguang-Jun didn’t stir, didn’t react to Sizhui’s gasp beside him, and the long streaks of red visible on his robes. Wei Wuxian’s fingers gently stroked his hair, but his eyes were closed and his body limp.

Wei Wuxian looked up at them, wordless. Jin Ling thought he was crying, but he blinked and his eyes were dry. 

Sizhui brushed past him, dropping down beside them and reaching out for Hanguang-Jun. Wei Wuxian intercepted his hand, guiding it down to his lap. “A-Yuan, your face,” he said, soft-pitched and distant. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s not bad,” Sizhui said. “Hanguang-Jun-”

“He’s hurt, too,” Wei Wuxian said calmly. “I should have been more careful. I’m sorry.” He closed his eyes, and sat very still. Even the hand that had been carefully running over Hanguang-Jun’s hair stopped moving, and Jin Ling found himself holding his breath. “You two should go now.”

“What?” Jin Ling said. Sizhui looked back at Jin Ling, bewildered. "Why? The storm stopped, we can all go together!"

Wei Wuxian opened his eyes, and some glint in them demanded Jin Ling’s attention. “I'm suppressing the resentful energy in the area. That's why the storm stopped. If it breaks through me, that storm is coming right back to finish us. So you need to go get help.” 

“We’re not doing that,” Jin Ling said.

Sizhui was still on his knees, now watching Hanguang-Jun. Wei Wuxian switched his attention to him, and said, “A-Yuan, you’ll listen, right? Take Jin Ling and go.”

“Jin Ling,” Sizhui said. “Help me.”

Sizhui leaned down and wrapped his good arm around Hanguang-Jun’s waist, dragging him away from Wei Wuxian. It was obvious a moment later that he was trying to pick him up, but struggled with only one arm.

“You can’t walk, right Senior Wei?” Sizhui said, pausing in his effort. "That's why you're saying we should leave you."

Wei Wuxian hadn’t resisted having Hanguang-Jun pulled away in the least, but the look on his face seemed like he would have if he’d been capable. He reached out and took one of Hanguang-Jun’s hands again in a weak clasp before shaking his head silently. A faint laugh burbled out of him. “I can try, at least, if the alternative is you trying to carry me.”

Jin Ling helped Sizhui to get Hanguang-Jun draped across him, gritting his teeth as his side twinged. It was beyond strange to be touching Hanguang-Jun, and even more to be carefully arranging him as he hung limply from Sizhui’s grasp. He was supposed to stand larger than life, forbidding and aloof, and it made Jin Ling’s skin crawl to see him vulnerable.

He and Sizhui together managed to get them all into some semblance of a standing position, Sizhui tightly gripping on to Hanguang-Jun like he was afraid he would drop him. Sizhui was so much shorter than Hanguang-Jun that it would have been a difficult job to carry him with two arms, and something about the way he looked told Jin Ling that he felt unsteady.

Wei Wuxian was watching them, all traces of amusement gone. “Can’t you summon corpses or something to help?” Jin Ling asked, holding on to Hanguang-Jun to try and help Sizhui keep his grip.

“I’d have to stop suppressing the resentful energy here to do anything like that, and then we’d be right back in the storm,” Wei Wuxian said, producing a sheathed Bichen from underneath his robe and using it to lever himself up to his knees. “The best I can do right now is keep us both useless.”

Jin Ling reached down a hand for Wei Wuxian, and was met with a stubborn grin. “Help Lan Zhan. I’ll manage myself.”

He couldn’t hold back a doubtful look, but Wei Wuxian pulled himself to his feet. He swayed a bit once he got there, but caught himself with Bichen.

“How’s your wound?” Wei Wuxian said. Jin Ling peeled his fingers away from his side, heartened by the lack of an immediate spurt of blood. There was still some on his hand and gruesomely soaked into his robes down his legs, but most of the bleeding seemed to have stopped.

“It’s fine,” he said, poking at it gingerly. “It wasn’t anything.” 

“You don’t have to be so tough, A-Ling,” Wei Wuxian said, shaking his head. “We should go though, if no one’s bleeding to death right now.”

Sizhui awkwardly shifted under Hanguang-Jun’s weight, and Jin Ling took advantage of his newly freed hand to help him. He wasn’t as tall as Sizhui, but together it was easier, and they started back up the hill, away from the lake.

Jin Ling didn’t have the energy to spare to take all of the weight from Sizhui, but he did his best. As terrible as Sizhui clearly felt though, he walked unwavering at his full height under his burden, taking careful and measured steps. His stability made it easier for Jin Ling, and he found his side didn’t hurt too badly at all at their deliberate pace.

Even so, Jin Ling couldn’t help but feel that they were moving far too slowly, and every glance back at Wei Wuxian reinforced it. At first, Wei Wuxian had smiled at him every time he’d looked, but by the time they’d crested the hill and Jin Ling could see the whole lake spread out below them, Wei Wuxian had his eyes closed and his lips were moving. Jin Ling pulled Sizhui to a stop, watching.

Wei Wuxian opened his eyes, and the wind suddenly seemed stronger. Rain drops splattered down from the storm clouds that hung suspended above them, and Wei Wuxian immediately closed his eyes again. The rain stopped soon after, but Wei Wuxian’s eyes stayed closed in an expression of intense concentration as he started walking towards Jin Ling and Sizhui with one hand outstretched. 

Sizhui twisted and reached out to take Wei Wuxian’s hand with his broken arm, the other occupied around Hanguang-Jun, and Jin Ling wasn’t about to let that happen. He grabbed Wei Wuxian’s fingers, guiding his hand away from Sizhui, and let him blindly reach with his free hand until he caught a handful of Hanguang-Jun’s trailing robes. This close, he could hear that he was humming a gentle tune.

“Senior Wei?” Sizhui said, looking over his other shoulder in confusion, and Wei Wuxian grimaced.

“Keep going,” he said on a quick exhale. “Quickly.” 

He was still humming, a pained look on his face obvious even with his eyes closed. One hand was at his waist, holding Bichen and pressed against Chenqing in his belt. Jin Ling could feel the other hand brushing against him, clutching on to Hanguang-Jun’s robes as a guide.

Sizhui set his mouth firmly and led the way again. The tune chased them now, so quiet that Jin Ling’s ears strained to hear it but unceasing. Hanguang-Jun seemed to get heavier, the soft ground under their feet making it nearly impossible for them to hold steady as it slid out from under them, but Jin Ling could still feel the wind growing stronger, the occasional drops of water from above turning back into real rain, and knew that they were running out of time.

Even knowing it was coming, one wet cough from behind him was all the warning he had before the skies opened up. The rain felt harder than it had before, vicious and unrelenting, and Jin Ling nearly fell to his knees under the shock of it.

He had to do something. Sizhui was injured, Hanguang-Jun still unconscious, and-

The sound of a flute broke through the roar of the wind. Jin Ling squinted against the rain, clutching Suihua’s hilt, and saw Wei Wuxian, somehow still standing behind them. His chin was painted in fresh blood, but he had Chenqing up to his lips and the rain didn’t seem to touch him, evaporating into tiny pools of black resentful energy that joined a growing cloud around him.

With a sharp blast from the flute, the cloud spun and stretched out, filling Jin Ling’s vision with darkness. He flinched back, bracing himself against a blow that never came, and then realized that the rain was no longer hitting him either. He could hear the wind and water raging, but the resentful energy surrounding him muffled it, leaving him almost warm as it brushed against his skin.

Slowly, the resentful energy pushed away, leaving him in the dark, but he could feel the protective barrier between him and the storm. The limp weight of Hanguang-Jun on his shoulder was almost comforting, and he could feel Sizhui’s arm against his even if he couldn’t see him.

A dim glow broke the darkness from his right as a light talisman floated up from Sizhui’s hand, and Wei Wuxian’s song finally stopped. The resentful energy shimmered in the light from the talisman, and Jin Ling watched it for a moment, mesmerized and repulsed at the same time. It seemed to still be growing stronger, feeding off the energy of the storm like it was part of it rather than opposing it.

Wei Wuxian’s sigh broke their silence as he dropped to his knees. Blood trickled from his mouth, and his eyes were unfocused.

Jin Ling was trapped by his hold on Hanguang-Jun, unable to just drop him as Wei Wuxian swayed. Sizhui saved them again, tipping all three of them down and laying Hanguang-Jun down over his own lap, but before Jin Ling could reach out for Wei Wuxian, he was moving again, pressing closer to Hanguang-Jun and laying his hand over his heart.

“Good,” he murmured, and Jin Ling sighed in relief.

“Are you hurt, Senior Wei?” Sizhui asked. “What’s happening? What’s wrong with Hanguang-Jun?”

The blood in his mouth made Wei Wuxian’s nasty grin look almost animalistic. “It must have thought that if it could break my hold on the resentful energy we’d be defenseless. But, I had some time to think about what to do if it broke my suppression while we were walking just now, and came up with this!” He got half-way up to a gesture at the energy swirling above and around them before he sighed and let his arms flop back down, but he still had a glint of triumph in his eyes. “Impressive, right?”

Just about anything that held the storm back would have been impressive. Jin Ling’s face still stung from the last burst of rain and wind, even if it had only lasted for a moment. “What did you do?” he asked.

“Well, it turns out this storm is just resentful energy carrying around a bunch of water,” Wei Wuxian said. “It isn’t real weather at all, otherwise it wouldn’t have stopped when I suppressed everything. But that’s why you feel so tired right now. Ever since you came here, you’ve all been under attack from resentful energy.”

“But this shield is just resentful energy too,” Sizhui said, blinking slowly. “How is it stopping the rain?”

“When you swing your sword at someone and they try to block it, does your energy pass right through theirs? It’s the same principle with, ah, non-traditional methods. If it wants to come in here and attack you again, it’s going to have to figure out a way through my block.” Wei Wuxian sat up a bit straighter, lecturing like they were sitting around a table in a warm inn rather than in cold mud before slumping back down. “Of course, it won’t hold forever, but we’ll see what happens after that.”

Jin Ling found himself staring. He’d been focused on the next step, on helping Sizhui and keeping Hanguang-Jun upright, and hadn’t fully considered what Wei Wuxian had meant when he’d claimed to have suppressed the entire storm. How had he held on to so much energy, even for the short time that he had? And then he’d come up with a shield while he’d been stumbling behind them with his eyes closed?

“Ridiculous,” he said.

Wei Wuxian suddenly smiled. “Lan Zhan used to say that to me all the time when we were kids,” he said fondly, taking Hanguang-Jun’s hand in his.

Disarmed by the sudden change in subject, Jin Ling scrambled for something to say. “If you were like this back then, you gave him good reasons to say it.”

“Of course I did,” Wei Wuxian said. “Who do you think I am?”

“Senior Wei, what happened to Hanguang-Jun?” Sizhui asked again. “Will he be alright?”

All the lightness Jin Ling had felt as Wei Wuxian had confidently lectured them disappeared at the reminder. They were trapped. Hanguang-Jun hadn’t even stirred as they’d carried him, and was certainly badly injured. Even Wei Wuxian didn’t think his shield would last.

“He protected us,” Wei Wuxian said. “He should have left it to me, but when we were being overwhelmed back there he took the worst of it. He was awake when I got to him, but he’s not used to resentful energy like I am and it hurt him.” It was quiet for a moment, and then Wei Wuxian drew himself up with a quick breath like he’d forgotten something. “But he’ll be fine. Don’t worry. He just needs some care. But A-Yuan, how’s your head? Does your arm hurt? We can take care of you now, don’t pretend it’s fine.”

Sizhui looked surprised, as if he’d thought that his injuries weren’t so obvious that no one could ignore them. The blood that covered half his face made that impossible, but maybe he didn’t know how awful he looked.

Jin Ling dug through the pouch of supplies he’d grabbed as they’d hastily prepared to chase after Wei Wuxian. Everything was damp, but that was fine. Wei Wuxian didn’t look like he had anything on him, and Sizhui’s one working arm was supporting Hanguang-Jun, so it was up to him. He eventually found a bandage and his drinking water, pulling them out and rinsing a bit more water over the bandage to wet it properly before he reached for Sizhui’s face.

Sizhui leaned back as Jin Ling leaned in, and Wei Wuxian laughed at them. “A-Yuan, your face is bloody. Jin Ling is just trying to clean it off for you, but he didn’t realize he should tell you first.”

Jin Ling looked at the bandage and realized how it must have looked to Sizhui as he reached for him with a water soaked bandage. “Sorry,” he mumbled, embarrassed.

“Oh,” Sizhui said dubiously. “Ah, thank you?” He stopped moving away, and Jin Ling took that as permission. The blood was sticky and unpleasant, clinging to skin even when Jin Ling pressed a bit harder, and he found himself needing to scrub to make any difference at all. Sizhui wrinkled his nose and closed his eyes. “My arm is worse than my head, I think,” he said, which didn’t sound true to Jin Ling in the least.

“He was confused when I found him,” Jin Ling said, so that Wei Wuxian wouldn’t get the wrong idea. “He didn’t remember what happened right away.”

Wei Wuxian frowned. “Did he grab your leg?” he asked, bizarrely. Sizhui made a high pitched sound that contributed nothing to Jin Ling’s understanding of the question.

“My arm?” he tried. “I think he grabbed my arm.”

“He’s joking,” Sizhui said, half-smiling and half-wincing at Wei Wuxian, who leaned closer to Sizhui and looked into his eyes before shrugging ruefully.

“There’s nothing I can do to help,” he said, “but I think you’ll live. Just be careful.”

The blood on Sizhui’s face was as clean as it was getting and the wound had stopped bleeding a long time before. Jin Ling gave up on wiping his face and sat back. “What should we do about his arm?” he asked. “He keeps trying to use it.”

Before Wei Wuxian could answer, Sizhui looked quickly down at Hanguang-Jun. “He’s breathing differently,” he said as Hanguang-Jun moved slightly.

Hanguang-Jun came awake slowly as they watched, with barely a difference between awake and unconsciousness. His eyes opened but he didn’t speak or move,and Jin Ling couldn’t tell if it was because he couldn’t or because he was Hanguang-Jun.

“Hanguang-Jun?” Sizhui said. “Can you hear me?”

A line appeared between his eyebrows, and his head turned slightly as he made a small sound that could have been acknowledgement. He seemed to gain awareness and looked straight up at Sizhui, who smiled down at him.

“Hanguang-Jun, how are you feeling?” Sizhui asked.

A slow blink was his only response, and then he shifted a bit and was staring straight at Jin Ling. The normal sharpness of his eyes was missing, replaced by what seemed to be confusion, but Jin Ling found himself involuntarily straightening his spine anyway. His side rewarded him with a shot of pain from moving too quickly, but Jin Ling was nearly used to it after so many times.

Hanguang-Jun looked over to Wei Wuxian, but his attention rolled back to Jin Ling almost immediately. His face was upside down from where Jin Ling knelt, and he wondered if he should say something, or move so he wasn’t craning his neck as he looked at Jin Ling, or something else entirely. Had he been awake after all and just unable to move and now was deathly offended? Should he apologize for touching him? 

“How is-” His voice was soft and barely there, breaking off into a cough, but Hanguang-Jun didn’t look away from Jin Ling. His throat moved and he tried again, still quiet and slow, “How is your wound?”

A choked laugh from Wei Wuxian meant that it didn’t matter that Jin Ling was too surprised to respond. “You’re really too much, Lan Zhan,” he said, his voice bright and upbeat. “Even after all that, you’re still not worried about yourself? You really don’t know how to be injured.” He laughed again, covering his face with the hand he hadn’t entangled with Hanguang-Jun’s. His voice was muffled when he spoke again, “At least we know you aren’t possessed, right?”

His shoulders shook a bit, but not with laughter. Jin Ling thought for a moment that he was about to collapse, but Wei Wuxian dropped his hand away from his face and only leaned a little closer, dragging Hanguang-Jun’s hand into his lap and holding it with both of his own.

“Wei Ying?” The concerned line between Hanguang-Jun’s eyebrows hadn’t disappeared and had grown deeper as Wei Wuxian laughed at him. His shoulders lifted away from Sizhui for a moment, but then he slumped back down with a gasp. Instead, he pulled his hand free and reached up. Wei Wuxian met him halfway, pressing his cheek into Hanguang-Jun’s hand and closing his eyes with a sigh. “Four borders is not enough,” he pronounced, his voice growing stronger.

Wei Wuxian nodded emphatically, choking out a laugh that sounded a little teary. Jin Ling looked up at the shield of resentful energy and tried to convince himself that the storm had died down again and he could be a little further away while they were mushy at each other. Wei Wuxian had been worried, of course, and that was fine. Jin Ling had been worried too. That didn’t mean he wanted to be right there while he was comforted. Hanguang-Jun could hardly even hold his hand up. Couldn’t they save it a bit longer?

“What do you think, Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian asked after Jin Ling had spent a long moment looking up. When he risked a glance down, Wei Wuxian had sat back up and they seemed to have decided to talk about the situation they were in, so he started listening again. “Ah, before you say it, though, did you bring bandages? We should take care of injuries before we do anything else.”

Hanguang-Jun nodded slightly and reached into his sleeve, eventually retrieving several rolls of bandaging that looked not only clean but somehow dry and passing them to Wei Wuxian.

“You first, then A-Yuan,” Wei Wuxian said to Jin Ling, shuffling over to him.

Peeling back the layers of his wet clothes was more difficult than Jin Ling expected, and Wei Wuxian ended up doing most of the work. Jin Ling didn't look down when the wound was exposed and Wei Wuxian made a contemplative noise. “It's not bad,” he said. “You bled a lot but that's mostly because it was made by resentful energy. There's no curse mark, do you feel anything?"

“No,” Jin Ling said, half-heartedly pulling away as Wei Wuxian prodded at him. “It's fine, are you a doctor now?”

“More than you are,” Wei Wuxian shot back. “Remember how good Sizhui was when you cleaned him up earlier? Why can't you be like that?”

“It was probably that I didn't poke him that made it different,” Jin Ling said, pushing Wei Wuxian's hand away.

“You did scrub pretty hard,” Sizhui said, just loud enough to hear but quiet enough for Jin Ling to pretend he hadn't. 

Jin Ling submitted to the remainder of Wei Wuxian's attempts at doctoring, and even held an unnecessarily thick swathe of bandages in place as he tied it. It did make breathing easier, and he was forced to admit, internally and never aloud, that movement was much less painful with the support. 

Wei Wuxian moved on to Sizhui who offered no resistance beyond a sharp inhale as Wei Wuxian bound his arm and tied it to his chest. “There,” Wei Wuxian pronounced. “Now, Lan Zhan, we should try and get you sitting. Do you think you can? Poor A-Yuan must not be able to feel his legs by now.”

Hanguang-Jun could sit up, or close to it. He held Bichen under his arm for support and was leaning almost all his weight against Wei Wuxian, who seemed to relax once Hanguang-Jun was on him and told him an only partially embellished story of how they'd ended up under a shield of resentful energy. 

When Wei Wuxian laid out exactly how Sizhui had ignored his orders to leave and instead attempted to carry Hanguang-Jun out, Jin Ling looked expectantly at Hanguang-Jun for a scolding and was surprised by his silence.

“So then, we know so far that this creature likes to possess people and is clever,” Wei Wuxian concluded. “I think we know how Zhang Minjing came to be delivering letters.”

“It's trying to lure people here,” Hanguang-Jun agreed. “At least the woodcutter was drowned in the lake, and possible Zhang Minjing as well.”

“But how did he know?” Jin Ling said. “If he was possessed by some collection of dead spirits, how did he know who I was?”

“He could be one of the spirits,” Sizhui said, just as Wei Wuxian twitched in realization. Sizhui paused to allow him to take over but Wei Wuxian beckoned for him to continue. “If this is a collection of spirits, they aren't necessarily all from a long time ago. Couldn't that be why the woodcutter's spirit was so weak when Hanguang-Jun played Inquiry, if the creature was attacking it? And then, when Senior Wei started Empathy, he…”

“I opened myself up to not just the part of the woodcutters spirit that still survived,” Wei Wuxian said, taking up the thread from where Sizhui had stopped, “but also the parts that had been absorbed already into the creature. In the end, I performed Empathy on the creature we were here to remove and it decided to play a game with us. It couldn't have been easier for it.”

“It’s too late to change that now,” Hanguang-Jun said, but he was almost frowning. “The water is the key. There was something in there.”

Wei Wuxian closed his eyes and hummed. “There was,” he said. “I didn't notice it then, but you're right. There was something down there. The spirits are victims, or at least most of them are. Something had to have drawn them here, and it's in that lake.”

Wei Wuxian paused, and Jin Ling thought of Inquiry. “It said it was waiting,” he said. “What was it waiting for? Living people? Cultivators?”

“It didn't hurt anyone until now,” Sizhui said. “But it must have taken time to gather so many spirits and so much resentful energy, right Senior Wei? It must have been here for a long time.”

“No,” Hanguang-Jun said. “The Sunshot campaign was enough. The uniforms of the cultivator spirits were mostly from the Wen Sect. Even those without swords had the Wen emblem on them somewhere.”

“If it’s been absorbing the consciousness along with resentful energy from people who died during the Sunshot campaign and learning from them, that would explain why they'd want me dead, and even you too,” Wei Wuxian said. “But why target Jin Ling specifically? He wasn’t even alive then, and he hasn’t killed anyone. None of the spirits could possibly resent him.”

“Does it matter?” Jin Ling asked. “So there's something in that lake. We need to find it and then we can get rid of the spirits.” He faltered and rephrased. “We can put them all to rest.”

“Easy to say, but we have to get back to the lake and then in the water without being possessed,” Wei Wuxian said. “Did I mention that I don't think I can move this shield? The creature is starting to press a bit harder and it won't hold.”

“How long?” Hanguang-Jun said, laying two fingers to Wei Wuxian’s wrist and flinching. “Wei Ying, you’re-”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said warningly, and Hanguang-Jun stopped talking, as if that would make it so Jin Ling didn’t understand what he’d been about to say. Something was wrong with him.

Jin Ling moved closer and reached out for the pulse point at Wei Wuxian’s throat. Wei Wuxian leaned back against Hanguang-Jun and caught his wrist, but he’d expected that. He turned his hand so he was the one holding Wei Wuxian, and held the fingers of his other hand against his wrist.

Wei Wuxian looked surprised, but smiled. “Clever! Isn’t he quick, Lan Zhan?” Jin Ling ignored him, the feeling against his fingertips too alarming. The pulse was quick and heavy, the energy weak and unsteady.

“What’s happening?” Jin Ling demanded. “Why is it like that?”

“The shield,” Hanguang-Jun said, not looking away from Wei Wuxian. “It’s taking too much from you.”

“How am I supposed to keep any secrets when you keep prying?” he complained. “I was waiting for a chance to say it.”

“How long until you can’t maintain it?” Hanguang-Jun said, ignoring Wei Wuxian's excuses, and he sighed.

“Soon enough that we should do something about it,” he admitted. “But it isn’t as though we could have all sat here and hoped someone else figured out what was happening in time to save us even if it was going to last. Look at how long it took us! Even if Zewu-Jun was outside right now, he’d need information if he was going to be helpful. Nie-xiong left some people, didn’t he? If someone gets back to town they can send a message to Zewu-Jun and keep anyone else from running in here.”

Hanguang-Jun nodded decisively, shifted his grip on Bichen and held it out to Sizhui. “Take it.”

“What?” Sizhui said, sounding as shocked as Jin Ling was. Bichen was one of the most famous swords in the world, powerful, fast, with as strong a reputation as its wielder, and now Hanguang-Jun held it out like it was a practice sword.

“I will stay with Wei Ying, and you and Jin Ling will go. Your sword is gone. Take Bichen.”

“Hanguang-Jun, shouldn’t you go?” Sizhui asked. “You’ll be faster than me. People will listen to you!”

“No,” Hanguang-Jun said.

"But-!"

“A-Yuan, show Hanguang-Jun a little mercy,” Wei Wuxian intervened. “He was unconscious not long ago. Don’t make him say that he’s not well enough to go.”

“I could,” Hanguang-Jun said contrarily. “But I could not carry another. And I will not leave you here alone. Or Sizhui here at all.”

“That settles it, then. I should be able to open enough of a pathway for you two to leave, just give it a moment and then go as quickly as you can. When he arrives, tell Zewu-Jun to clear the resentful energy before he tries to come in here, or he'll be in danger as well.”

"It doesn’t settle anything!" Jin Ling grabbed Wei Wuxian's arm as he started to raise Chenqing and squeezed. "We aren't leaving you!"

"Of course you are," Wei Wuxian said. "You can’t just stay here until it figures out how to get through my shield. If I open the way for you two, I can protect Lan Zhan until you come back with help. It’ll be easier with just the two of us.”

Jin Ling stared at Wei Wuxian, at the open and honest look on his face, and didn't believe him.

"Come here where I can see you, A-Yuan," he ordered. Sizhui shuffled out until he was beside Jin Ling, and Wei Wuxian laid a hand on each of their shoulders. "Everything will be fine," he promised. "You're going to be alright."

"But you won't be!" Jin Ling shouted, frustrated. "How can you pretend like this? We both know you're lying!" He grabbed the cold hand on his shoulder and held on tightly. "Stop lying!"

"Jin Rulan," he said firmly. "You're the leader of your sect and the only child of my shijie. A-Yuan, how can you ask Hanguang-Jun to let you stay in danger when you could be safe? Be reasonable. Our only chance is if you go and bring help."

"Then Jin Ling can go, and I'll stay with you," Sizhui said. "Please, Senior Wei, Hanguang-Jun, don't send me away."

"I can protect one more easily than two." Wei Wuxian smiled again, rubbing Sizhui's cheek with his thumb. "You always were good at filial piety, A-Yuan, but you’re taking it a little far."

"Senior Wei, please!"

Hanguang-Jun took Sizhui’s outstretched arm and pressed Bichen into his hand. “Sizhui.” He said, with all of his usual calm and assurance. “We will be fine. Take Jin Ling and go.”

Sizhui frowned, but Jin Ling already knew that he would give in. They'd already lost the argument. "Will you be here when we come back?" Jin Ling said, breaking the silence as Sizhui and Hanguang-Jun stared at each other.

"We will-" Wei Wuxian began, but Jin Ling wasn't finished.

"Swear it, promise it, that you'll be here when we return."

Wei Wuxian stared at him, and then nodded. "I promise. Do you believe me?"

Jin Ling couldn't answer.

"Well, here," he said. "I don't have a sword to loan you to prove I mean it, so you can have this." Wei Wuxian reached up and carefully untied his hair ribbon. "It's not exactly the Lan forehead ribbon, but we can pretend." He folded the ribbon neatly and held it out to Jin Ling. "You can return it when you see me again."

"I don't want your stupid ribbon," Jin Ling said, taking it. "You'd better be here to take it back."

"A promise is a promise," he said. "Lan Zhan and I waited a week for Jiang Cheng to come rescue us once. Let's see if you two can do better. A-Yuan, take Bichen. Be sure to bring it back."

Sizhui wrapped his hand around Bichen, and Hanguang-Jun let go. "Hanguang-Jun, Senior Wei, I promise that we will return."

Jin Ling stood beside him. "Uncle took a whole week to rescue you? We'll put him to shame."

“Be careful,” Hanguang-Jun said. “Do your best.”

"We'll put ourselves in your hands," Wei Wuxian said. "Jin Ling.”

“What?”

“Watch out for birds.” Jin Ling couldn’t help the sputter of outrage, and Wei Wuxian smiled broadly. “When I open the path, fly fast and hard. I don’t know how long it’ll last." He lifted Chenqing to his lips and closed his eyes.

At the first notes, the swirling energy above them brightened and thinned. The song could barely be called that, but Jin Ling watched as a path up and out of the storm began to open. Finally, a patch of blue sky appeared far, far overhead, and Jin Ling reacted without thought.

Suihua lifted him from the ground and up through the storm, which still swirled around the narrow passageway that Wei Wuxian had opened. Sizhui flew beside him on Bichen, just barely enough space between them to maneuver.

The tunnel grew tighter as they ascended, wind and water tearing at the energy that held it back, and the sound of Chenqing became more and more faint. The roaring of water replaced it, and then, as the patch of blue sky grew nearer and nearer, the flute stopped entirely.

Jin Ling couldn't think about what that meant, not at that moment. He grabbed Sizhui and dragged him upward as the passageway collapsed around them and the wind began to blow again, desperately pushing Suihua to go faster and faster as the last protective energy around them disappeared.

Just as the full force of the storm resumed, they were out of it. Above the unnatural storm, everything else was quiet. The sun was bright. Jin Ling kept a tight grip on Sizhui and gasped for air.

"He stopped," Sizhui said, staring down into the maelstrom. "Why would he stop?"

"Maybe he saw that we would make it out and focused on himself," Jin Ling said, ignoring the obvious answer. "We have to go."

"He wouldn't have stopped like that." Sizhui dropped a bit closer to the storm and Jin Ling dragged him back up. "Not on purpose."

"He promised, though," Jin Ling said, hating how childish he sounded. "He said he'd be waiting."

"Jin Ling," Sizhui said, and Jin Ling realized suddenly that the wetness he could see on his cheeks wasn’t just water, "He would've said anything to make you go."

Jin Ling shook him, a bit more roughly than he intended. “Don’t be stupid! He’s Wei Wuxian - he can survive something like that easily and… and Hanguang-Jun is with him! Even if they’re injured they won’t die so quickly, so stop acting like they’re already dead!” He clenched his fist, feeling the ribbon crumple under the pressure. “He won’t die.”

“He won’t,” Sizhui repeated. Jin Ling could hear he wasn’t convinced, but he straightened up and wiped his face, smearing the traces of blood that remained across his white sleeve. “We have to send that message. Zewu-Jun can help.”

“Lotus Pier is closer. Uncle won’t let them die,” Jin Ling said with conviction, wiping his own face. Even out of the wind and rain and back in the sunshine, it seemed to be a cold day, but he had started to sweat.

The world faded out without warning, only to be brought back into the sharp focus of an intense pressure and pain in his side and Sizhui shouting in his ear, “Jin Ling! Jin Ling!”

He grabbed at his side, but there was a strong hand squeezing tightly over the point of most pain, and he couldn’t dislodge it. “You’re hurting me,” he said, still pushing, but Sizhui didn’t let go.

They were moving, but Jin Ling was hardly aware of it, fading in and out. He came back to the feeling of hard dirt under his knees and Sizhui saying, “You’re bleeding again.”

Jin Ling had nearly forgotten the cut on his side, but red was staining through the bandages. He tried to focus his spiritual energy to hold it shut, but found himself too exhausted to do anything more than make the world spin around him again.

A bright warmth started from his side and began to suffuse his entire body. He seized on it and sealed the wound as best he could, the blood slowing to a mere trickle. He opened his eyes to see Sizhui holding his hand out, the golden flow of energy between them visible, and grabbed his wrist, forcing his hand away. Sizhui swayed, and he was abruptly the one holding Sizhui up rather than the other way around.

“The bleeding stopped,” he said when Sizhui reached back for him. “You’re hurt too, worry about yourself.” Sizhui nodded, and Jin Ling helped him down to sit on the ground. “Thank you,” he added, a little too late. 

Sizhui was already looking back at the edge of the storm. “Do you think you can make it back?”

“Of course,” Jin Ling staggered to his feet and dragged Sizhui up with him. 

It was harder than it had ever been to step up onto Suihua. Jin Ling could feel himself shaking immediately, but he clenched his teeth and pulled on Sizhui until he was standing on Bichen. It was easier to hold on to Sizhui than let go, and a moment later Sizhui’s hand grabbed the back of his robe. 

“I’ll help you, and you’ll help me,” Sizhui said, Bichen's sheath tucked between his injured arm and his body. “Right?”

“Right,” Jin Ling said, sliding his hand around to get a better grip. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

Hours had passed, and while the weather in town was as warm and peaceful as it had been, the storm in the hills showed no signs of stopping. The sun was getting low in the sky, and the feeling of unease throughout the town had settled in to stay. Their disappearance overnight had been noticed, and their sudden and bloody reappearance along with the unceasing storm nearby had caused a near-panic.

Two of the Nie sect cultivators that had been stationed in the town had already left when Jin Ling and Sizhui had limped in, chasing after their Sect Leader and reinforcements when they’d realized that the storm wasn’t stopping and Hanguang-Jun was gone. He and Sizhui couldn’t have made it much farther, but it had still sat poorly with him to tell the other two to split up, sending one to Lotus Pier and the last one to Carp Tower while they stopped there with nothing to do but wait.

Now Jin Ling watched the hills from a roof, periodically checking over his shoulder for any sign of cultivators returning, even though it was far too soon. Days too soon. They would bring Uncle, and Zewu-Jun and others, but would it matter by the time they arrived? He and Sizhui had agreed that as long as the storm continued they could take it as a hopeful sign that Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-Jun were still safe, but doubt was sitting on his chest and making it hard to breathe. 

There was no proper doctor in town, just a woman who had some knowledge of medicine, but she’d been willing enough to help. Jin Ling had allowed her to poke at his side and give him some herbs after he’d washed the dirt away himself, but she hadn’t been able to do much for Sizhui’s broken arm that Wei Wuxian hadn’t already, just rewrapping it with fresh bandages and advising him to rest.

Sizhui had already been drooping noticeably while she’d been examining him, his spiritual power exhausted, and Jin Ling had taken the chance to convince him that he should sleep while he could. Jin Ling felt worn down too, but something told him to keep watch, that he needed to know what was happening out there, even though the raging storm told him nothing he didn’t already know.

A light breeze lifted his sleeve, fluttering the fabric against Suihua, and Jin Ling looked up reflexively. An empty sky greeted him, and he scuffed the heel of his boot against the roof.

How had things gotten this out of hand? How had he managed to drag the Chief Cultivator and Yiling Patriarch into a trap? Now he was safe, and they were in danger, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

Something Wei Wuxian had said crept back into his mind, and he pulled the red ribbon from his sleeve, unfolding it and letting it flutter as the wind came and went.

Why had Zhang Minjing come to him? What could he have done that made him a target for a creature he’d never seen?

“Jin Ling?”

He jumped, twisting around and swearing when his side reminded him why that was a bad idea. Sizhui rushed down the roof to him, steadying him by his elbow with an apologetic look on his face.

“Are you alright?” he asked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you hadn’t heard me.”

“I thought you were sleeping,” Jin Ling said, trying to breathe through the stinging pain. “It hasn’t been long.”

“It felt long enough,” Sizhui said, his lips pulling into a weak attempt at a smile. “You still have Senior Wei’s ribbon.”

Jin Ling paused, trying to figure out why he would say that. Wasn’t it obvious? “Yes?” he said finally.

“From what you said before I thought that you didn’t want it.” Sizhui looked at him knowingly, and he couldn’t help but cringe.

“I don’t,” he said, shoving it back in his sleeve. “What am I supposed to do with it? Red isn’t a Jin colour. As soon as Uncle gets here I’m giving it back.” 

Sizhui relaxed a little, unexpectedly. “You’re going to wait for Sect Leader Jiang before you try to go back out there?” he asked.

Jin Ling felt a twinge of pique at the implication. “I wouldn’t go back on my own,” he said. “How stupid would I have to be?”

He looked a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I suppose you wouldn’t. I just woke up and you weren’t in the room, and I was...I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

Jin Ling took a look at the normally composed and polite Sizhui stumbling over his words, and couldn’t bear it. “Were you worried about me?” he said, surprised, and then couldn’t stop himself from mumbling out, “Why? I’m the reason we’re in this mess.”

“No you aren’t,” Sizhui said, surprised in turn, like he hadn’t even considered it. “What about this is your fault?”

“I brought the letter to Wei Wuxian,” Jin Ling said, annoyed that he had to spell it out. “Zhang Minjing was possessed or dead and I didn’t even notice, and then instead of investigating myself I dragged all of you into it with me.”

“Jin Ling,” Sizhui said slowly, considering every word, “If you’d come out here alone or even with anyone else you’d probably be dead now. That creature has so much energy and power that even Senior Wei couldn’t stop it. It hurt Hanguang-Jun. If they couldn’t handle it, who in the world could have?”

“Or maybe nothing would have happened!” Jin Ling said. “Anyone else would’ve closed off the area and maybe done some purifying rituals. Wei Wuxian walked right into it and tried to commune with it.”

“Is it his fault then?” Sizhui asked, still calm and pushing forward as Jin Ling tried to respond. “Isn’t it mine, too? If I hadn’t lost my sword, Hanguang-Jun would have his now. Maybe then all of us could have escaped.” It seemed like he had something more to say, but instead his lips pulled down into a frown, and he looked out toward the hills. 

Sizhui’s grip shifted on Bichen’s sheath, tightening until his knuckles were white with pressure, and his jaw flexed.

This is my father's sword. I won't put it down!

Jin Ling’s own words came back to haunt him, and guilt roiled in him. He had no right to feel sorry for himself. However worried he was, Sizhui had to be a hundred times that, and he was still putting forward a brave face.

“I’m sorry,” he started, but Sizhui started to speak at the same time.

“We all have to make our own choices, considering what is fair and righteous, and then take responsibility for the outcomes.” He said it like he was quoting something, but it was nothing Jin Ling recognized.

“Is that one of the Lan Sect rules?” he guessed.

“No,” Sizhui said. “Hanguang-Jun taught me that when I was young. It isn’t one of the teachings of the Lan Sect.” His grip on Bichen relaxed, and when he looked back to Jin Ling, there was a faint smile on his face. He turned back to face the storm, the breeze flipping his hair back over his shoulder. “We can’t change what happened already, but we can still try to correct it.”

Jin Ling felt some of the guilt lift, but couldn’t shake his thoughts from earlier. “It’s going to be days before anyone can make it here. We can’t just wait for someone to come fix it for us.”

“We'll need a plan first,” Sizhui said, but he didn’t disagree. “You should go inside and rest while you can.” He glanced over at Jin Ling, and smiled again. “I’ll keep watch for now.”

He couldn’t remember falling asleep, but a hand on his shoulder woke him.

“The storm stopped,” Sizhui said, the moonlight robbing his face of colour in the dark room. His eyes were wide, and he clutched at Jin Ling’s robes. “Something must have happened.”

Jin Ling scrambled out of the bed, tugging his robes straight as he stumbled to the window, still clumsy with sleep. The storm had faded to white noise in the distance, and now that it was gone everything seemed too quiet. All he could see in the sky was the moon and stars.

And then, silently and quickly, the moon vanished behind dark and unnatural cloud cover. 

“It’s moving,” he said, his mouth ahead of his brain. “It’s coming this way.”

“But there are people here,” Sizhui said, horrified. “Normal people. We have to stop it.”

They watched for a moment as stars began to vanish, Jin Ling’s mind racing for some answer. “The lake,” he said, grabbing at his boots. “Hanguang-Jun said something was in the lake. If we get there and threaten it, we can force it to deal with us.”

He picked up Suihua and looked up to see Sizhui with his entire upper body leaning out of the window. “What is it?”

“It can’t be-” Sizhui stepped up onto the window ledge, drawing Bichen and leaping out into the air.

Jin Ling yelped and rushed to the window. Sizhui was flying out after a man on a bright sword, white robes and black hair fluttering behind his tall frame. It was certainly Hanguang-Jun, but Sizhui had his sword, how could it be him?

“Zewu-Jun!” Sizhui called, and Jin Ling cursed himself as an idiot as he scrambled out the window after them. At least it was night, a more reasonable time to mistake one brother for the other, even if those brothers were a Sect Leader and the Chief Cultivator and he should really know the difference.

The last Jin Ling had heard, Zewu-Jun had been heading to Qinghe from Cloud Recesses to investigate the Nie Sect’s involvement in the letter. He’d left at nearly the same time as they had, but would have found that Sect Leader Nie wasn’t there. He must have departed that same day and traveled almost without stopping to be here now.

The clouds were still approaching, the wind beginning to pick up, and Jin Ling flew up to where Zewu-Jun had turned back to meet Sizhui as quickly as he could.

“Sizhui!” Zewu-Jun said, sounding relieved, but his smile faded as he looked at his bandaged arm, at Jin Ling flying to meet them, and then he finally looked at the sword under Sizhui’s feet. “Bichen?”

“Zewu-Jun,” Sizhui said, somehow bowing nearly properly despite being midair on a moving sword. “There isn’t time to explain fully, but this town is in immediate danger. Those clouds are made from resentful energy which the creature that has been hiding in the hills uses to attack and possess people.”

All of the apprehension on his face vanished to be replaced with focus, his attention snapping away from Bichen and towards the clouds, and he withdrew his xiao from his sleeve. “Stay close to me,” he said and swooped towards the leading edge of the storm, music trailing behind him.

As Zewu-Jun approached, the clouds seemed to simply begin to dissolve, rolling backwards on themselves and vanishing. Within moments, the moon reappeared, and the clouds had changed direction, moving back toward the main bulk of energy that still sat over the back hills.

He followed, and Jin Ling called, “Wait!” just as a heavy wave of resentful energy struck out at Zewu-Jun, who dodged easily and came back to where he and Sizhui were waiting. He waited for another attack, but the energy just sat, a blank wall of dark clouds.

“I’ve only seen one other wield resentful energy like that,” Zewu-Jun said. “Where is Wei Wuxian? Where is my brother?”

Jin Ling flinched at his tone, but Sizhui immediately launched into a rapidly delivered summary of all that had happened since they’d arrived. By the end of it, Zewu-Jun’s face was as expressionless as Hanguang-Jun’s, and he slowly closed his eyes.

“How long were you inside the storm before it became overwhelming?” he asked.

“An hour, I think,” Jin Ling said. “Not more than two.”

Zewu-Jun studied the storm closely. “We can’t leave this here to hurt people, but our first task should be to retrieve my brother and Wei Wuxian."

"Wei Wuxian said to clear the resentful energy before trying to get to them," Jin Ling reminded him. "He said it was too dangerous to go in."

"Hm," Zewu-Jun said, his face showing no emotion. "He may have said that, but I wonder if he would do the same if he were me. Did Wangji say anything?"

"Not right then," Jin Ling said.

"Well, in that case...do you know exactly where you left them?” 

“Yes, of course.”

“Yes, Zewu-Jun,” they said at the same time.

“Sect Leader Jin,” he said, hitting his title meaningfully, “you’ll stay here. Sizhui, you’ll show me where they are. If Wangji is well enough, he and I can bring you and Wei Wuxian out at once. Otherwise, I’ll return alone the second time. Understood?”

Jin Ling wanted to argue that he was in better condition than Sizhui, but he understood why Zewu-Jun had used his title against him to add weight to his instruction. He looked surprised when Jin Ling just nodded and tightened his lips to keep from complaining, but didn’t say anything more.

They disappeared under the cover of the clouds, Zewu-Jun’s flute echoing back out but oddly muffled. There was still no rain, but it was dark enough that Jin Ling immediately lost sight of them anyway.

The wait was interminable. Even the sound of the flute was lost under the cover of wind, growing fainter and fainter until Jin Ling couldn’t hear it at all. He counted to pass the time, trying to remember exactly how far in they’d been and how long it would take to get there and return.

The clouds stayed quiet, and that more than anything made Jin Ling uneasy. Why wasn’t it doing anything? He shifted his weight backward, moving further from the boundary.

As time trickled by with no sign of anyone from within the clouds, he gave up on counting and simply stood still, trying to determine how long he needed to wait before he could follow them.

They were probably just having trouble finding the spot. The storm had been raging for a full day and Jin Ling could see that trees had been stripped of their leaves, that all traces of pathways had been obliterated. They’d have to find the lake and go from there. 

He lasted through another age of waiting before his traitorous mind started to wander to thinking about what he would do if Zewu-Jun and Sizhui didn’t come back. He couldn’t tell what the boundary between taking a long time and taking too long a time was, and there wouldn’t be anyone but him there to help within the next day.

There was a brief echo that he thought could be the sound of a flute, but it didn’t sound like a xiao. He perked up, straining his ears to listen as closely as he could, but didn’t hear it again. He was left unsure if it was his imagination or if it had been real.

It could have been Wei Wuxian, though, if it was a dizi. 

They didn’t return. Jin Ling didn’t know how long it had been, but the feeling started as a twinge and slowly grew until it was a certainty. They weren’t coming back. Something had happened.

There wasn’t anything he could do about it alone.

He dropped down low, trying to see through the trees for any movement, and then up high, staring through the shifting clouds for a flash of white.

“Sizhui!” he shouted eventually, giving in. “Zewu-Jun!”

“Jin Ling!”

He nearly fell off his sword, whirling around at the distant shout of his name from a familiar voice. Still far away but getting closer at a rapid rate, a group of cultivators flew toward him.

At their head, Jin Ling’s relief was met by shock that quickly melted into a thunderous expression that had a stronger promise of violence than the storm behind him.

“Uncle!”

“That idiot !”

It wasn’t clear exactly who Uncle was referring to, but Jin Ling suspected it was Wei Wuxian. Uncle had dragged him down to the ground and demanded to know what he was doing out in the middle of nowhere, which was a strange question, because what was Uncle doing traveling to Qishan if he hadn’t been looking for Jin Ling?

He’d skipped as many details as he’d dared, trying to get to the point, which was that Zewu-Jun and Sizhui hadn’t come back, but Uncle kept breaking in to point out how stupid he’d been, or how foolish Wei Wuxian was, and once, memorably, to nod in approval that Hanguang-Jun had at least tried to keep him and Sizhui from chasing after Wei Wuxian.

“We don’t have time to argue about this!” Jin Ling finally snapped. “They’re still in there!” Uncle’s eyes widened with a threat, but Jin Ling stood his ground.

“So we should keep sending people in?” Uncle said, still loud, but a touch more thoughtful. “I can see why Zewu-Jun would go. If you were in there before and made it out, he would think that he had a good chance to rush in, recover Hanguang-Jun before the creature could react, and then return. But if he doesn’t return, then we need to-"

“Sect Leader, there!” called out one of the cultivators he’d brought, pointing past Jin Ling. “Someone is coming!”

Sizhui and Zewu-Jun emerged from the clouds, and the easing of Jin Ling’s nerves that at least they’d come back was overshadowed by the aching disappointment that they’d come back alone.

They were both wet but looked uninjured, though Sizhui’s face stayed turned away, and there was a terrible weight on Zewu-Jun’s, one that took Jin Ling back to the Guanyin Temple.

“Sect Leader Jiang,” he said, his voice scratching out. “How are you here?” He raised his hand to his face, and shuddered. “Forgive me, I-” He cut himself off, and Jin Ling stared in horror as he covered his eyes mournfully.

“Zewu-Jun,” Uncle said, moving closer to him. “What’s happened? Did you find them?” His tone was rough, but Jin Ling knew him well enough to hear concern in it.

Zewu-Jun shook his head. When he spoke again, he had composed himself. “I fear the worst,” he said. “There was no sign of my brother or Wei Wuxian anywhere we searched."

Jin Ling couldn’t accept that, not in the slightest. “How do you know you were in the right place?” he demanded, voice higher than he meant it to be. “Wei Wuxian made that shield, maybe you just couldn’t see it with all the other resentful energy!”

“Sizhui,” Zewu-Jun said, and Sizhui pulled his hand from his sleeve, presenting it so everyone could see.

Balanced across his open palm was Chenqing. Jin Ling’s stomach twisted, and he felt colour begin to rise in his cheeks. 

Zewu-Jun continued, "When we got close to that lake you spoke of, it forced us away. I expect it's hiding below.”

Uncle just nodded grimly, but Zidian appeared in his hand, waving and sparking. "You, Zhang Minjing, get over here."

Jin Ling’s attention was drawn away from Sizhui as a man with a vaguely familiar face and a now very familiar name dressed in the colours of the Nie sect elbowed his way to the front of the group and bowed. 

"Sect Leader Lan, Sect Leader Jin, I'm extremely sorry that I've caused so much difficulty."

“You?" Jin Ling said, surprise beating down horror for the moment. "You're supposed to be possessed!"

"He was," Uncle said, rolling Zidian over in his hand. "He turned up at my doorstep halfway dead and tried to convince me that Nie Huaisang would ask for my help with some random town. He was obviously possessed, so I beat him with Zidian until it was gone."

"You brought me a letter," Jin Ling said. "Do you remember?"

"No, Sect Leader Jin,” Zhang Minjing said, “I recall that I was underwater, but then I can't remember anything until I woke up at Sect Leader Jiang's feet."

“Anything that can take a person’s body like that is something that can’t be allowed to persist,” Uncle said. Jin Ling’s skin began to crawl. Zhang Minjing remembered water. The creature had clearly wanted them in the lake - when possessed, Wei Wuxian had walked into the lake and then been dragged under. “We departed immediately,” he continued, Jin Ling only half paying attention as his thoughts raced. “We didn’t know anyone else would be here, and especially didn’t expect you .”

Uncle was staring at him, but Jin Ling ignored him. Zewu-Jun and Sizhui hadn’t been able to check the lake. “They’re in the water,” he said. “If it had a chance, it dragged them back to its lake.”

Sizhui looked at him finally, and nodded. He and Zewu-Jun must have realized that before coming out, otherwise they would still be there searching. 

Uncle showed no surprise, only a fierce determination that Jin Ling couldn’t help but be reassured by. If anyone could fix this now, it was him. "Zewu-Jun, let's go," he said. "If it's hiding in the water, we'll drag it out." He looked back at his disciples and said, "Use whatever rituals you know for clearing resentful energy. Keep your distance, and watch for my signal."

Zewu-Jun stepped up onto Shuoyue, and Sizhui back onto Bichen.

Uncle’s hand fell heavily on his shoulder when he drew Suihua. “You’ll stay here,” he said.

“I won’t,” Jin Ling said immediately. Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-Jun had come because he’d asked them to. He was finished with waiting for people to return. He set his jaw and looked Uncle in the eye, refusing to be cowed.

Uncle looked back at him, equally firm, but then his face softened just a fraction and gave a nod that could only barely be thought of as such as he turned away and drew his sword.

“Let’s go,” he said sharply to Zewu-Jun, not looking back, and Jin Ling took the implied permission for what it was. He took off hastily, chasing after Uncle and Zewu-Jun as they disappeared into the clouds. Sizhui delayed a moment to stay with him, and in bare moments they were back inside.

The atmosphere was different now. The air was damp with moisture and heavy with resentment, but it didn’t feel like an attack. Instead it was something else, something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Water droplets beaded on Jin Ling’s face and ran down his neck and he wiped his cheek with his sleeve.

They stayed just above the trees, branches wind-stripped of leaves rising eerily out of the cover of darkness as they got close enough. Zewu-Jun held a glowing talisman, the only source of light in the gloom.

Sizhui stayed close enough that Jin Ling could see him shiver. “Do you feel that?” he whispered, his voice oddly muffled.

He nodded, lifting up a little in the air as they passed a particularly tall tree. “Do you know what it is?”

“I think-” Sizhui paused, then dropped his voice so low that it nearly disappeared, “It feels like...anticipation.”

He was right. Now that it had been put to words, he could feel it clearly. They’d wondered what the creature had been waiting for since Hanguang-Jun had tried Inquiry, and Jin Ling felt sickly certain that it had been waiting for this.

Jin Ling couldn’t help but feel that they were about to spring a trap, but it had been baited so carefully that they hadn’t even considered another path. It couldn’t be allowed to take more bodies. Hanguang-Jun was too powerful, Wei Wuxian too skilled in his own path. The thought of the creature using them as weapons was awful in itself, but so few people would even be able to hold their own against them that it was a horribly dangerous thought as well.

“How did it stop you from getting to the lake?” He had to focus on one thing at a time. If it had taken Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-Jun, the two people best suited in the world to stop it now were there with him. If it hadn’t, then he was just being foolish. 

“The same as before,” Sizhui answered. “It attacked with resentful energy and we had to turn back.”

Zewu-Jun slowed down, and Uncle with him, allowing Jin Ling and Sizhui to catch up. “It was just over this hill,” Zewu-Jun said, scanning the area.

 “You three stay out of the water,” Uncle said. “I’ll bring it up, whatever it is. Just be ready.”

Zidian sparked to life, and he took off faster than Jin Ling had ever seen him move.

The lake looked nothing like it had the night before. It hadn’t felt right, but it had looked innocuous. Now the bushes that had surrounded it were laid flat, trees toppled over, and the ground swept into waves of mud that showed no evidence that anyone had ever been there. The lake itself was calm, sitting easily without a ripple, and the air was completely still.

Uncle stopped suddenly, attacking the air in front of him, and Zidian seemed to make contact with something, glancing off but sizzling. “Come out!” he shouted. “I know you’re here!” Jin Ling was forced to stop as well, a barrier slowing him until he couldn’t push forward any further.

There was no response, but the resentful energy that had stopped them slowly shimmered into visibility, hiding the lake entirely. Uncle struck at it again, but this time Zidian slid smoothly through the barrier, leaving a gash that immediately refilled.

“It’s the same as Senior Wei’s,” Sizhui breathed out beside him. “Does that mean-”

“It saw what he did,” Jin Ling interrupted. “It could’ve just copied him. It doesn’t mean anything.” They had promised. They couldn’t be too late.

What’s more, Wei Wuxian had promised to be here. Jin Ling wanted to believe that he’d kept it.

Flute music began beside him, and Jin Ling recoiled before realizing that it was Zewu-Jun, playing that same song he had before. Uncle struck again, and Zidian hit with power, the entire shield of resentful energy reverberating.

Sizhui withdrew his guqin and joined in Zewu-Jun’s song. He winced with every note he played, his fingers stretching out from the bandages on his arm, but it was working. Jin Ling could see through the barrier now as Uncle attacked faster, Zidian tearing away at it now that he could hit it.

What he could see on the other side was hundreds of faces pressed against it, hands scrabbling at the barrier like they were trying to tear it away themselves. He couldn’t hear the screams, but he could see them, mouths open and teeth bared.

He recoiled, twisting away, and the shield fell.

The spirits surged forward, swords appearing out of nothingness, and then Zidian cracked past him, sending them right back into it. Jin Ling used the space to leap up and off of Suihua, grabbing his sword just long enough to strike out with his spiritual energy into another rushing crowd and then stepping back onto it to dodge the swords of another cluster.

He caught glimpses of Sizhui as he maneuvered, using his guqin to dissipate spirits, and Zewu-Jun had switched songs on his xiao to something that lifted the weight of resentful energy all around, the spirits avoiding him completely.

Uncle was forcing his way through, Zidian flashing about him as he pressed closer and closer to the surface of the water. Jin Ling sent his next strike out towards him, opening up a gap on one of his sides that Uncle slipped through, but in the next moment, the surface of the lake erupted. Water and spirits both flew up and out in such concentrated fury that Uncle was forced back towards them, and even Zewu-Jun’s song faltered.

In the space left when Zewu-Jun paused, another flute rang out, just for a moment, so brief that Jin Ling wasn’t sure of what he’d heard, but the spirits abruptly withdrew back towards the lake. Following some urge that he couldn’t comprehend, Jin Ling followed.

Under the surface, there was only darkness, but something was calling to him. He stopped short well above the water, expecting a grasping hand or a blast of energy, but there was nothing.

"Uncle," he called, staring down and holding his breath to keep steady as he tried to see through the water.

Sizhui came to him first. "You heard that too," he said, his eyes flashing with hope. "It was Senior Wei."

"You’ve got his flute, don’t you?" Uncle said roughly. “He’s not playing anything. Zewu-Jun, suppress it if you can.”

He looked down and squared his shoulders, ready to dive down into the water, but Jin Ling made a decision and caught his sleeve. “I’m coming with you.”

“You’re not,” Uncle said flatly, tugging his sleeve away.

“What are you going to do then?” Jin Ling said quickly. “How many hands do you have? Can you drag both of them up while you’re still fighting off those spirits?”

“Yes.”

Jin Ling grabbed his sleeve again. “I’m as good a swimmer as anyone,” he said, and then, with a horrible crack in his voice that refused to stop, “Please don’t go by yourself.”

He didn’t want to go down there. It was pitch black and teeming with resentful energy, but he wanted to watch as Uncle vanished into it even less.

Uncle looked over his head to Zewu-Jun, who frowned but didn’t comment, and Jin Ling abruptly remembered that technically, the only person who could actually order him around was presumed to be at the bottom of a lake. It wasn’t as though the situation would improve as they continued to argue. It was time to do something about it.

“Sizhui.” Sizhui looked up from the lake to him, guqin still in hand. “We’ll bring them back. Uncle, are you coming?”

He stepped off of Suihua, calling it to his hand as he fell. Uncle shouted something, but Jin Ling ignored him, focused on the water as it seemed to come up to greet him.

Welcome him, even.

He hit the water feet first, arms tucked in to his sides, and was surrounded by a swirling darkness that grew heavier and heavier as he strained to see, casting out his senses and filling Suihua with energy until it glowed.

He swam downwards, following instinct more than anything else. The water was warmer than it should have been and tingled where it touched his bare skin. The pressure that he expected to start building in his lungs as he descended was curiously absent - it felt more like moving through air than water, but Jin Ling wasn’t foolish enough to take a breath.

Uncle should have caught up to him, though. His thoughts were swirling strangely, matching the light from Suihua as it cast through underwater currents, but that stuck with him. Uncle should be with him by now, but he wasn’t. It seemed important, but he couldn’t seem to remember why.

A flash from below caught his attention, but when he looked again, it seemed to just be a reflection of Suihua’s light. He swam down towards it anyway, moving his sword to try and see it again.

There was nothing there but the lakebed, smooth and lifeless.

It seemed to slope downward and away, and that was where he needed to go.

He kicked his feet, stirring up silt, and followed it down.

Chapter Text

He kept the road in sight as he traveled, not confident enough that he could find Cloud Recesses without following it. It was the first time he’d traveled there alone, and he didn’t think his pride could take having to land and ask for directions.

The mountains were in sight now, though, and he thought he could see Biling Lake and...Caiyi Town, he thought it was called, coming up. He could certainly see a lake and a town on the shores of the lake, and he was fairly certain that he recognized them.

He amused himself by looking down at fields, ponds, herds, people and houses as he passed over, giving plumes of smoke from cooking fires a wide berth. He’d already been traveling for over a day, he didn’t need to turn up at the Lan Clan both unannounced and smelly.

He spotted a person walking around the edges of a pond, water up to his knees as he waded, and he slowed down to get a better look. They didn’t seem to be doing anything interesting, but just as he was about to speed up again, they turned, and he caught a glimpse of red moving with their hair.

He knew who that was.

An amusing thought whispered in his ear, so he circled around, flying just a touch above the treetops so he could sneak up from behind. He flinched as he approached, some sense telling him that he needed to dodge, but nothing seemed out of place when he looked again, so he pressed on, floating up as close as he could but keeping out of arm’s reach.

This close, he could see that he was poking at baby lotus plants, and he completely forgot his plan to shout and scare in favour of bemusement.

“Hello, Jin Ling!”

He flinched again, this time in startled surprise that he’d been detected, and was immediately grateful that he hadn’t tried to scare him. If he’d known he was there, all it would have been was embarrassing. 

“Hello,” he said, trying not to sound sulky. He considered stepping down to the ground, saw the mud, and retreated to a safe distance before he stepped off of Suihua onto solid dirt.

Wei Wuxian grinned at him from the water, a full-mouthed affair. “What brings you here?” he asked, then quickly added “Not that I’m not happy to see you! The opposite! I just thought you’d have better things to do.”

“I’m looking for you,” he said, then paused. He didn’t have any reason why he’d be looking for Wei Wuxian, and it seemed silly now to come all this way just to find him. He knew that Wei Wuxian had been staying in the Cloud Recesses for almost three months now, and he’d seen him just weeks before that. What’s more, it seemed like he’d already been here.

“Really?” Wei Wuxian smiled even wider, almost impossibly so. “Well, you’ve found me now! What can this poor servant do for Sect Leader Jin?” He shifted his weight, the edge of his robe drooping from where he’d tied them up and down into the pond, but he took no notice of it as it began to wick up water, dragging more of it down.

Jin Ling swallowed, his heart beating harder in his chest for some incomprehensible reason. “I think...I think I’m here to do something for you.”

“Are you?” Wei Wuxian said, his smile fading away into something gentler. “Jin Ling, you don’t have to do anything for me.”

“Yes I do,” he said stubbornly, and then he found himself stepping into the mud, sinking to his ankles immediately. Every step was a struggle, dragging his boots out of the mud only for them to sink again, but he forced his way to the water’s edge and reached out his hand.

Wei Wuxian looked at his hand, and didn’t take it, looking up at Jin Ling. He was lower in the water now, small waves lapping at his thighs, but he still didn’t seem concerned. The lotus pond was deeper, darker, with something scary waiting within it.

“Take my hand,” he demanded, leaning out further. “I want to help you, you have to let me help!”

“Help with what?” Wei Wuxian asked, bewildered.

“Come out of the water,” he begged, straining to reach, and he could feel tears threatening. “Please. Uncle. Come back.”

“Uncle?” Wei Wuxian repeated, shaking his head but smiling a little. “Jin Ling, you really play dirty.”

“No one’s playing but you!” Jin Ling snapped, suddenly angry. He didn’t quite understand what he was saying, but he couldn’t stop the words from pouring out of his mouth. “You can’t do this on your own!”

“A-Ling,” Wei Wuxian said, all traces of humour gone. “There’s nothing for you to do. Don’t try to bear this burden.”

“It’s my choice to make! You can’t call me Sect Leader Jin and then try to shield me from everything!” The lotus plants were disappearing, the trees tilting at angles, the cheerful sunlight darkening into an overcast night, and the pond stretched out behind Wei Wuxian, but Jin Ling couldn’t take his eyes off of him.

They were back at the lake in Qishan, standing alone in the windswept wreckage, and there had never been lotus plants at all.

“Oh,” said Wei Wuxian, “That’s what it’s playing at.” He unwound the ribbon from his hair, and Jin Ling was struck by a sense that they’d been here before that was only compounded when Wei Wuxian’s ribbon landed in his outstretched hand. “Hold this for me.”

He reached out, finally, and his fingertips grazed against Jin Ling’s palm. 

It remembered its creator with some fondness, a young person who found it and saw the potential, had carefully worked over the roughness of its surface until it was smooth and shiny, reflecting the world it saw right back.

Some small part of its existence had been spent in their possession, traveling the land, watching and learning, until one day that had ended.

“I hope you’ll understand,” the creator said. It had never changed, still the same as it had been the day it became aware, but its maker had grown weak with time. Sometimes the face that it reflected back was hard to match to the one that it had first seen. “If you don’t understand, I hope you’ll think of me fondly anyway.”

Water shone off of it, and sunlight. “I made you to help people,” the creator said, rubbing their thumb along its surface. “There’s someone strong and terrible who wants to take you from me and use you to cause harm. I can’t allow that.”

The creator sighed, and said, “You just need to stay hidden, understand? I’ll come back once it’s over, and then I’ll take care of you again.”

“Please,” they said. “Stay quiet. Wait for me to return. All will be well.”

The creator moved their hand, and they were separated.

It reflected water and sun, water and sun, spinning in the air, and then it was only water. Water grew darker, deeper, and then there was very little to reflect at all.

After that, nothing changed.

Time passed, day into day, year into year, decades folding into centuries, and it waited.

Gradually, something changed.

The water it reflected didn’t bend the light quite the way it had before. It was paler, weaker, somehow dirtier.

And then there was something else there. A person, but not the creator, it was someone sad and angry and dead. It remembered what it had done before it had been in the water, only ever with the creator’s encouragement, but it still remembered exactly how, and for just a moment it forgot that the creator had said to stay hidden and reached out its energy, tangling itself up with the dead person and offering them comfort.

The person latched on with tenacity, and it learned what resentful energy truly was as it drew it out and away, leaving only the cleansed spirit of the dead person. It felt the calm, the gratitude, and then the release as the spirit faded away.

It waited for the resentful energy to fade, dispersing it through the water and letting the natural energy of its surroundings take it away.

After that, there were more and more people, more than it had ever known in all the centuries it had been waiting quietly, all of them sad and angry and dead and teeming with resentment. There wasn’t time any longer to let the resentful energy fully disappear before the next person was there waiting, and more people were drawn in as they built up.

The water reflected darker and darker light, but it couldn’t stop. The people circled around, begging and pleading, and it was what it had been made for. After so long alone, it had a use again.

Finally, there came a time when it tried to disperse the resentful energy it had absorbed into the water, and nothing happened. There was as much resentful energy in the water as it had concentrated inside itself, and there was nothing left to do but hold it and wait. The resentful energy had always disappeared before. It would take time, but it would go.

The people stayed in the water with it, uncomprehending of why they were there but unwilling or unable to leave. They waited together for the resentful energy to disperse, but it didn’t. It swirled through the water, swirled through the people, and continued to concentrate.

It held that bit of resentful energy that it hadn’t been able to disperse inside itself. At first it was easy, but as the resentment grew around it, it began to feel a change. That was foreign in itself. It didn’t change. Everything else changed around it, but it had always been what it was.

It came to comprehend that it had become tangled with the resentful energy in the water. It couldn’t let go, and found itself unwilling to try.

They were always screaming.

It could hear them all, now that it was different, and they had so much to say. 

Jin Ling opened his eyes, but didn’t remember closing them. All he could see was the water, but he could feel it. His lungs hurt, and it weighed down even more heavily.

You and the people like you did this, a voice that wasn’t his but was sitting in his head like it should be. You killed them, made them suffer, and now I’ll do the same to you. 

You deserve this.

There was something in his hand, soft fabric that was slippery under the water. He clenched his fist around it as the world washed away again.

“What do you mean? You’re speaking nonsense - were you struck in the head?”

“Captain!” The man bowed again, deeper, and she couldn’t fail to notice the way his hands were shaking, that his chest heaved with panicked breaths. “I saw it with my own eyes. We had nearly broken the line of the Nie Sect, but then the dead began to rise and joined their side! They were more vicious than any fierce corpse I’d ever seen before, and everyone they killed rose again. My brother- he-”

It was impossible. Their force had split, one-half to guard the pass and the other to strike at the laughably small forces of the so-called Sunshot Campaign. They had planned their attack to the last movement, now she was supposed to believe that they were all dead?

“Captain Wen,” called a voice from outside the tent, an unfamiliar man speaking in a dark tone.

She slammed her fist down on the table in frustration, grabbed her sword and cast the door flap aside. “What!?” she snapped.

“I bring news from the battlefield,” he said, a deathly pale man who held a dizi by his side like a sword and didn’t bother to bow. His black robes shone with something wet, and a trickle of blood ran down his chin from his mouth. “The Wen forces are defeated.”

There was an aura about him, menace and rage and promise rather than grief or fear, and she drew her sword.

“There’s no need,” he said, raising that flute to his lips and blowing one high, long note. “I’ve brought them back here for you.”

Shouts came from the edges of the encampment moments later, the sounds of sword fighting ringing out, and she understood, all the rumours of what had become of Second Young Master Wen’s base crystallizing into reality. The army had returned. It hadn’t returned alive.

“Monstrous!” she screamed.

“I see,” he said. “You were happy enough to burn our homes, torture and murder our people when you held the power, but when the suffering is yours, that’s when it becomes monstrous?”

She struck out at him, and he leapt backwards, a terrible smile spreading across his face as the shouts turned to screams of horror and pain. “What are you?!” she gasped out, rage turning to ash in her chest.

The smile flattened out, and he slipped something from his sleeve that twisted and burned with energy, searing itself into her senses and drowning out the screams.

“I’m what you deserve,” he said.

His sleeves were covered in blood, blue fabric turned to purple, and it didn’t seem to make sense that he was focused on that when all around him people were screaming and dying.

They were going to lose this battle, but he couldn’t seem to mind it. When had he lain down? He had a distant memory of pain, but it had faded quickly after the sword had been pulled from his chest.

Ah, that was it. He coughed, but the wet feeling in his throat didn’t fade.

He opened his eyes, and caught a glimpse of the Second Young Master’s cold face before he whirled back away, striking down another cultivator who had approached too close. He thought of reprimanding him, telling him not to risk himself for a dying man, but he didn’t want to die, as it turned out. Desperately, absolutely, didn’t want to go.

He shrunk back as the Second Young Master Lan approached him, death in his eyes and blood on his sword, but there was nowhere to go.

The young Jiang Sect Leader’s fury had preceded him, and the bite of Zidian was something they’d all discussed in the evenings. Could it truly tear a soul from a body, or were the rumours like that only because it would make them wish for a faster death?

Either way, it was both terrifying and thrilling. There would be glory, so much glory for the one who killed him and took that whip, and they would kill his followers too, make them regret their births before they ended them.

The war was over and the Wen had lost.

People huddled in their homes at night, trying to hide themselves away, but there was no hiding for anyone still named Wen.

It had come to understand where the dead people had come from, and who they blamed their deaths on.

It learned about revenge.

All those sects were the same. Jin, Jiang, Lan, Nie, Wen, Ouyang, Yao, Qin, Chang, Wang, He, Yu. They had all done wrong. They all deserved it.

It knew how it would do it.

It remembered there had been a person, a particular person whose haunted eyes and cruel flute had stuck in the minds of so many who had died. It considered the people who had been turned against their own and then found themselves trapped again with it, and thought that would be revenge enough. It was soaked in resentful energy. That person had been too. If the person could use other people for their cruel purpose, then surely it could as well. 

Many of its people had been violent in life themselves, and it found that it cared less for them. They could wait and suffer. The remainder, those who had done no harm, they would be revenged first.

By the order of Sect Leader Jin, we are to remove the threat to this village.

The Jin Sect won’t tolerate insurgency!

How can the Sunshot Campaign be ended when even a single Wen-dog still draws breath? Sect Leader Jin has the foresight to know that you will not stay peaceful.

“Sect Leader Jin.”

Jin Ling came back to himself on the shores of the lake. The screaming echoed in his ears, but it was fainter here. He was alone, but there was a ribbon in his clenched fist.

He felt like he should be breathing hard, but realized that he wasn’t breathing at all.

“This isn’t real.”

“It isn’t,” the voice agreed, everywhere and nowhere at once.

He blinked, and he was underwater again, Suihua glowing where he’d held the ribbon a moment before, and his lungs burning. The light reflected off of something and-

He was on the shore again.

“We sent that one out for Sect Leader Jin first,” the voice said. “We thought that if we could take the worst one at the beginning that everything would be easier. We were incorrect. This has been very hard.” There was a degree of petulance in the voice now, and Jin Ling tilted his head in confusion.

He was still reeling, the last images playing over and over in his head. People in Jin colours firing arrows and laughing, slashing with their swords grimly as others screamed and begged for mercy, all in Sect Leader Jin’s name. It hadn’t been him, but it had been his own sect, and not long ago.

Jin Guangshan, Jin Guangyao, it seemed like they had left suffering behind them their whole lives, and now the name was his.

He dropped to his knees and touched his forehead to the ground.

“Sect Leader Jin begs forgiveness,” he called out loudly. “The one who ordered you harmed is dead and gone himself, but on behalf of my sect and my predecessor, I apologize. Please reconsider.”

“No. We will take your body and end your sect, and then all others.” the voice said. 

A warm hand landed on his neck and two more on his upper arms. “No you won’t. Stand up, Jin Ling.”

Relief washed over him as he was lifted to his feet by an implacable strength. Hanguang-Jun looked down at him unreadably, then took his sleeve and wiped it across his forehead. “Mud,” he said.

“You’ll take his body?” Wei Wuxian shouted, stepping around them to be nearer the water. “Don’t make me laugh! I’ve seen you trying to take bodies - so far you’ve only managed it once! How long have you had me and Lan Zhan down here, and you haven’t even finished that!”

Jin Ling cringed back when the voice growled, and Hanguang-Jun caught him around his shoulders and pulled him into his side. “Stay with me,” he said. “Let Wei Ying handle it.” He stood as strong and calm as ever, and for the first time being close to Hanguang-Jun wasn’t the scariest of his options.

“The ones above!” the voice said, inflection growing heavier and angrier. “I won’t bother with their bodies. I’ll drown them immediately if you don’t submit!”

Wei Wuxian did laugh at that, and Jin Ling had a hysterical moment of wondering if his mind had left him. “You don’t even know who’s up there,” he called. “You couldn’t drown them if your existence depended on it. Actually,” he said, tapping his hand on his hip. “I think it might. You’ve been focusing so hard on little Jin Ling here, but what have I been doing?”

There was no response.

“Aiyah, you waited so long!” Wei Wuxian said theatrically, wiping at his eyes. “Your creator did a terrible thing to just leave you here. I should know! The resentful energy isn’t your fault, how could you have known? But wouldn’t it be better if it was gone? Wouldn’t it be better if instead of keeping these poor people here to suffer we let them go to rest?”

“They want revenge,” said the voice.

“They don’t,” Wei Wuxian said, gentle like he was explaining something to a child. “I know they think they do, but they’re just shadows, just the grief that they died and not the person that they were. Don’t you remember those first times when those people left you? Did they still want revenge?”

“No,” it said, uncertain. “Stop it. I want the creator back. I don’t like this.”

“I know, I know,” he said. “I didn’t like it either. It hurts, right? You were just trying to help, and then you became the danger. Let me finish, and things will be better.”

“No,” it said, more firmly. “No.”

Resentful energy blasted out of the lake. Jin Ling flinched, but had no sword and nowhere to go but closer to Hanguang-Jun. It didn’t matter, though, because Wei Wuxian stepped in front of them, and it parted around him, washing over the top of all of them harmlessly.

“This again?” he said. “All you do is copy my tricks and use brute force. Did you think it would work forever?”

“Stop it!”

“The whining is really...You’re making me feel like I’m bullying you!” Wei Wuxian said. “Jin Ling, don’t ever be like this. I can’t stand it.”

“Wei Ying.” Hanguang-Jun’s voice rumbled deep in his chest, and Wei Wuxian blinked and grinned.

“Remind me how many borders again, Lan Zhan?”

“Four at least.”

“Stop it!” The voice was louder now, higher, but Wei Wuxian just looked at Jin Ling and winked.

“Remember to hold your breath,” he said, and then he slammed an open palm into the ground.

The water didn’t feel light anymore. It weighed heavily but naturally, like he really was at the bottom of a lake, and he wanted to breathe, but it was an improvement over the alternative.

He blinked his eyes open, the momentary discomfort in his eyes a feeling he was used to from long summers at Lotus Pier. He blew out a bubble and watched it rise, the presence of air reassurance that he was back in reality.

Suihua still shone, and something in the lake bed reflected back at him - a polished stone, small enough that he thought he could conceal it in his hand. Despite its size, something about it drew the eye, and Jin Ling couldn’t look away until he saw movement from the corner of his eye.

Hanguang-Jun’s robes and hair floated in a cloud around him, giving him an unearthly quality that was still more natural than that stone. He beckoned, and Jin Ling kicked off the lake bed towards him.

When he was closer, Hanguang-Jun reached out and took his wrist. When he pointed upwards and pulled, Jin Ling shook his head sharply. Hanguang-Jun nodded and pointed behind him with his free hand.

Wei Wuxian emerged from the shadows, blood trailing from one hand and making a shooing gesture towards them with the other. He reached down with the bloody hand, fingers curled into a claw, and Jin Ling could see his face contort with effort as he reached down towards the stone. As his fingers drew closer, the blood in the water began to move, swirling around them into some sort of array that glowed red, bright enough after so long underwater that Jin Ling had to squint.

Hanguang-Jun pushed off the bottom without warning, dragging Jin Ling up so quickly that he thought his ears would explode from the pressure change. He stared down as the array grew brighter and brighter, the stone reflecting it back and silhouetting Wei Wuxian.

They broke the surface, and the light was still visible. Beams of it gouged through the darkness in the water, but as soon as Jin Ling had gasped in a breath Uncle was upon him, dragging him out of Hanguang-Jun’s grasp and up onto his sword. He was pinned there by an arm around his back, and then a hand crushing his head to Uncle’s shoulder, and he wasn’t sure if Uncle was trying to hug or kill him.

“Wei Wuxian is down there,” he said to Uncle’s shoulder.

“Don’t care,” Uncle said, but the way he shifted his weight told Jin Ling that he was looking down.

“Hanguang-Jun!” Sizhui shouted, but from his position he couldn’t see anything. He squirmed until Uncle relented, loosening his grip enough that Jin Ling could turn around but then tightening an arm around Jin Ling’s waist like he thought he was about to jump back into the water.

Sizhui had pulled Hanguang-Jun from the water, and now they stood together on Bichen, watching the light grow until most of the lake was glowing red.

“Wangji,” Zewu-Jun said, calm like they were sipping tea together.

“Brother,” Hanguang-Jun said, just as calm and polite. “We should consider moving to one side.”

“That seems prudent,” Zewu-Jun said, shading his face as the light grew more intense. “Is Wei Wuxian alright?”

“He is.”

The resentful energy that Jin Ling had felt for what seemed like forever was fading away, twisting and burning up. Hanguang-Jun stopped when he was above the ground and not the water, passing Sizhui over to stand with Zewu-Jun, and then they watched as the light seemed to reach a tipping point and collapsed back in on itself.

Jin Ling realized with a start that he could see the stars reflected in the surface of the lake for the first time, and then with a quiet rumble from deep below, he felt Uncle tense. “What is he-”

The rumble became a thunderous crack, like the earth was tearing itself apart, and then the water blasted upward in the very centre of the lake, erupting into the sky and then collapsing back down into a massive wave that breached the shores of the lake and spread into the trees. The roaring of the water nearly covered the sound of trees cracking and snapping under the pressure, and Jin Ling stared open mouthed at the sudden flood underneath them.

“What the fuck did he do?” Uncle said, but he sounded almost admiring.

Wei Wuxian bobbed up in the depression that had been left at the centre of the lake unceremoniously as the flow of water began to reverse, somehow looking no more terrible than he had earlier despite having been at the epicentre of whatever that had been. 

He spun around in the water until he’d spotted them and then waved. “Lan Zhan! It’s fine now! Come get me!”

His shouting was almost inaudible with the sound of water rushing back, but Hanguang-Jun was already moving, and Jin Ling felt the tension deep in his gut begin to unspool. Uncle finally let him go, and he seized the opportunity to get back onto his own sword as Hanguang-Jun pulled Wei Wuxian up and out of the lake.

They landed just past the receding edge of the water, Hanguang-Jun flying low like he couldn’t have made it any further, and Jin Ling dropped down to meet them.

Hanguang-Jun stumbled as he stepped off of Bichen, but caught himself, and Jin Ling could, shockingly, actually see the exhaustion on his face.

Wei Wuxian had no such will to cling to his dignity, dropping carelessly down onto the ground and flopping onto his back, his chest heaving with alternating deep breaths and exhales that were more like fits of laughter. He threw an arm over his face, fingers curled into a loose fist, and winced when the deep cuts on his hand spattered fresh blood on impact.

Sizhui dropped off of Zewu-Jun’s sword, landing beside Jin Ling, as Zewu-Jun followed more circumspectly behind him, and Sizhui immediately crouched down beside Wei Wuxian. “Senior Wei, Hanguang-Jun, what happened? Do you need help?”

“Sizhui!” Wei Wuxian said brightly. “You did so well! We’re very proud!” His voice was on just the wrong side of cheerful, verging into delirious. “Look at what I found!”

He unfurled his fist, revealing the stone. It still glistened, but more than half of it was covered in bloody smears, and it didn’t seem to hold Jin Ling’s attention the way it had. It just looked like a stone.

“Is that...um,” Sizhui trailed off, at a loss. 

“We did that!” he said, gesturing loosely at the lake. “How did it look from above? Lan Zhan!” he tipped his head up towards Hanguang-Jun, who had knelt beside him. “Was it impressive? It felt impressive, I can tell you that.”

“Mm,” said Hanguang-Jun agreeably, gently sliding a hand under Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. “Is it over?”

Jin Ling finally bridged the space between them, taking Wei Wuxian’s other side. “Over enough,” he said as they lifted him upright. Jin Ling’s hand was newly and unpleasantly covered in mud again, but more concerning was the way that Wei Wuxian wavered when he tried to take his hand away, his eyes sliding shut, so he left it there. 

“Tch.”

Uncle had been silent for a shockingly long time, to the point that Jin Ling almost wasn’t surprised when he clicked his tongue and bent over Jin Ling to gather two fistfuls of Wei Wuxian’s robes and drag him up to his feet. He was usually only quiet when he was annoyed with himself, and from the way he asked about Wei Wuxian every time Jin Ling saw him and then followed up by declaring that he didn’t care, he definitely didn’t want to be concerned.

Though, from the way that he was almost careful as he held Wei Wuxian up, wrapping an arm around him to support his weight while somehow keeping their bodies apart, it was obvious to Jin Ling that he cared despite himself.

However, judging from how quickly Hanguang-Jun stood up and grabbed Uncle’s wrist, a death threat in his eyes despite the way he staggered when he stood up, and how Sizhui and Zewu-Jun both stepped forward like they were about to intervene, Jin Ling was about the only person it was obvious to. Wei Wuxian was no help at all, maybe stunned into silence or maybe losing his battle with consciousness, but either way not contributing as Uncle and Hanguang-Jun stared at each other.

“Hanguang-Jun, don’t worry,” Jin Ling said, wondering if his life was about to end as Hanguang-Jun’s sword-sharp gaze rolled over to him. The memory of being held and protected by him was fading fast, shattered by the instinctive knowledge that he didn’t want Hanguang-Jun to look at him like that. “We’ll take him back to town, right Uncle?”

He tried to inject a note of warning into his voice, willing Uncle to just once unbend a little, but neither one of them moved.

It seemed like one other person could tell that Uncle cared, even if he was fading fast. “Lan Zhan,” said Wei Wuxian, straightening his legs to stand rather than hang from Uncle’s arms. “It’s fine. He won’t drop me.”

“I might,” Uncle said automatically, and Wei Wuxian huffed out a laugh. 

“Fine then, I’ll go with Jin Ling. He’s younger, stronger, and more reliable than you anyway.” 

Uncle made an annoyed sound, but Hanguang-Jun watched Wei Wuxian for a moment, and then released Uncle’s arm with a nod. He still didn’t look happy, but he didn’t look murderous either, so it was an improvement.

“Sizhui,” Hanguang-Jun said, and put Bichen back into his hand. “Use it for a little longer. Brother?”

“Of course,” said Zewu-Jun, drawing his sword and stepping onto it. He held out a hand for Hanguang-Jun, and Jin Ling’s day took a final strange twist as Hanguang-Jun, the Chief Cultivator, the one who appears where the chaos is, willingly became a passenger on his brother’s sword.

Uncle took off first, holding Wei Wuxian both securely and as far away from his body as he could manage, though Jin Ling thought that might be more from the mud covering his back than from any real disgust. 

Zewu-Jun followed behind Jin Ling and Sizhui, who looked at Jin Ling with a growing smile on his face. “You know, when you jumped in the water, I really thought your uncle might be having a Qi deviation. I’d never seen his face do that before.”

Jin Ling winced. He would definitely pay for that at some point, but maybe if he could keep Uncle distracted long enough he’d have calmed down before he got around to the yelling. “I thought he’d come in after me,” he said. “Why didn’t he?”

“As soon as you hit the water, that shield went back up, and the spirits came back,” Sizhui explained. “It seemed like it only wanted you, which is probably why Sect Leader Jiang was so upset. What happened down there?”

“I’m not sure, exactly,” he said, remembering the lotus pond. “But that stone Wei Wuxian had, it’s some kind of spiritual tool that’s hundreds of years old, but then someone just threw it in the lake and it got polluted by all the resentful energy and restless spirits from the Sunshot Campaign.” He left out the part about the Jin Sect, not quite willing to talk about that yet. “I think Wei Wuxian did something to the resentful energy, but he didn’t exactly explain.”

Sizhui looked ahead to where Uncle had finally been forced to hold Wei Wuxian closer, taking nearly all of his weight onto himself. “It looked dangerous,” he said. “It was dangerous, I think, all of it. They were down there for a long time, and it was only when you went in that they came out.”

Jin Ling let that thought settle. “I didn’t do anything,” he said. “I think the stone kept them alive so it could possess them.” He paused a moment, and then looked away from Sizhui and admitted, “I think I only made it harder for them.”

“I’ve never seen Hanguang-Jun so exhausted,” Sizhui insisted quietly. “Not ever. I don’t think they were winning before you went down there. I don’t think they would’ve lasted if you hadn’t.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he waited for Sizhui to continue. Sizhui seemed to need a response though, so he dug deep to search for one.

“You would’ve done the same,” he said, and was rewarded by Sizhui’s somber expression fading away into a smile.

“You’re too fast,” he said. “Next time go a little slower and we can do it together.”

Chapter Text

Jin Ling had kept an eye out behind and in front of him as they’d flown back, unable to miss the way that Hanguang-Jun hung more and more heavily onto Zewu-Jun despite the relatively short journey. Even Uncle had given up any pretence of holding Wei Wuxian at a distance, and now had Wei Wuxian’s arms propped over his shoulders and both arms around his waist.

When Jin Ling had offered to help, he’d received a withering look and “Do you think I’m so feeble that I can’t carry one person?” He hadn’t heard what Zewu-Jun had said to reject Sizhui when he’d made a similar offer, but he suspected it had been a little less sharp - both from Zewu-Jun’s nature and the way Sizhui had stayed close rather than retreating like Jin Ling had.

“Where were you staying?” Uncle asked, adjusting his grip. Wei Wuxian’s face tipped onto his shoulder, and he sighed deeply like it was a personal affront. “The sooner we get there, the better.”

“In the town. There’s an inn in the teahouse - is something wrong with him?” Jin Ling flew closer and tipped his voice low to ask, glancing back at Sizhui and the concerned look on his face. Hanguang-Jun’s eyes were closed, his knees loose, and Zewu-Jun had gathered him even closer.

“There’s never not been.”

“Uncle!”

“Spiritual exhaustion. Regular exhaustion.” He tapped Wei Wuxian on the cheek. “Unresponsive. This,” he held up Wei Wuxian’s bloody hand by the wrist, displaying the deep gouges that were still dripping blood. “And that.” He rotated his hand and the stone glinted in the moonlight, still gripped tightly in his fist despite his lack of consciousness. “What an astounding attempt at getting himself killed, along with you.”

“ I’m the one who brought him into this,” Jin Ling snapped back, too loud. “If there’s anyone you should be angry with-”

“Sect Leader Jin, Sect Leader Jiang,” Zewu-Jun interrupted smoothly, suddenly much closer, and Jin Ling shut his mouth. “I’m sure you’d be better served having this conversation later. Perhaps privately.”

He couldn’t help but flush at the rebuke, but Hanguang-Jun’s arm hanging limply over his brother’s was enough to remind him that they were still in a precarious situation. Hanguang-Jun had been injured even before they’d been somehow taken into the lake, and he’d clearly used the last vestiges of his strength to pull Wei Wuxian from the lake for the last time. Though, at least unconscious he wouldn’t be able to hear Uncle.

Sizhui could hear, though, and even though his tone was still polite, his face was cold. “Sect Leader Jiang, the Lan sect thanks you for your assistance. If you’d prefer, I will take Senior Wei so that you can be on your way.”

Uncle raised an eyebrow at Sizhui, but didn’t reply. 

Jin Ling was saved from having to figure out how to break the tension as the final hills rolled away beneath them and the shadowy town came into sight. A few lanterns were still lit despite the hour, now approaching dawn, and there were people out in the streets watching them approach, but if there had been a panic, it seemed to be over.

“Sect Leader!” a voice called, and the Jiang cultivators that Uncle had brought with him approached from below.

“The threat has passed. Calm the townspeople,” Uncle ordered. “Someone find a doctor.”

“There isn’t one,” Jin Ling said.

“Liu Ya,” he amended, singling out a woman who bowed quickly. “Return to Lotus Pier and send a doctor. All the rest of you, go.”

“Yes, Sect Leader!” they said as a group, too well-accustomed to being shouted at to ask any other questions.

Zhang Minjing was left with them as the Jiang cultivators dispersed, but just followed silently at the rear. He looked guilty, and Jin Ling couldn’t help but feel like he deserved to, even if it hadn’t been his fault.

“The inn is here,” Sizhui said, leading the way down.

They’d left a lantern burning outside, and the worried looking innkeeper grew paler still as they stepped off their swords. His bushy grey eyebrows drew together, looking from Uncle to Zewu-Jun, and then his gaze stuck on Zhang Minjing. “Minjing! We’d all given you up for dead, especially after the last few days. Glad to see we’ve been wrong.”

Uncle tapped his foot, shifting Wei Wuxian again, but Zewu-Jun beat him to speaking, reminding Jin Ling that they’d attended dozens of conferences over the years and Zewu-Jun knew Uncle very well. “Good sir, could we trouble you to allow us inside? As you can see-”

The innkeeper’s eyes widened and he cut in hurriedly, throwing the front door open. “Please, come through.” He moved the base of the stairs and gestured up as they followed him in. “We’ve left the rooms alone, of course, I’ll bring up water in just a moment, is there anything else the Young Master requires?” Blood dripped from Wei Wuxian’s hand onto the floor, and he flinched. “Bandages?”

“Yes,” said Zewu-Jun, lifting Hanguang-Jun into his arms like he was a child. Jin Ling gaped, remembering how hard he and Sizhui had needed to work just to drag him between them. Zewu-Jun was taller than any of them, but even with that advantage factored in he didn’t even look like he was trying. “Sect Leader Jiang, can I trouble you a little more and ask you to bring Wuxian up?”

Uncle gave Zewu-Jun a look, and Jin Ling cringed internally, but Uncle just hefted Wei Wuxian a little higher and started up the steps. “Which room?” he asked as they reached the second floor. 

“This one,” Jin Ling said, leading them down the hall and opening the door to the room that Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-Jun had stayed in however long ago. 

The lack of sleep and long night suddenly struck him as he tried to remember how long they’d been awake, and Jin Ling had to shake his head to clear it. It was still night at least, though the sky had been lightening to the east in a way that implied dawn would be sooner than he’d like.

He and Sizhui had left the door closed when they’d returned, and it seemed like the innkeeper had been truthful when he’d said they hadn’t touched anything either. Even knowing how quickly Hanguang-Jun had left that night, the room looked nearly untouched, as if they’d just stepped out.

“He’s not getting any lighter,” Uncle said from behind him, and Jin Ling jumped out of the way to let him past.

Uncle crossed the room quickly, heaving Wei Wuxian onto one of the beds in a way that would have looked careless if he hadn’t immediately laid a hand on his forehead and wrapped the other around his wrist, lifting his bloody hand and prying a finger loose from the stone. “What do you know about this?”

“It’s a spiritual tool that got corrupted by resentful energy,” Jin Ling said, scrambling to think as he came to stand beside them. “It was trying to possess them?” he added.

“And the blood?” Uncle prompted impatiently. “What happened to his hand?”

“I didn’t see,” Jin Ling said. “He used the blood to make that array that cleared out the lake. I think he did it himself.”

“Wangji,” Zewu-Jun said from behind them. Jin Ling turned to see him leaning over Hanguang-Jun on the other bed, jostling at his shoulder. Hanguang-Jun didn’t move that Jin Ling could see, and Zewu-Jun breathed out a sigh. “Sizhui, can you try passing him some of your spiritual energy? Don’t hurt yourself, but see if you can wake him up. He’ll know more than we do.”

Sizhui said, “Of course,” and touched his forehead, opening his spiritual pathways. Jin Ling could see the faint glow as he began to transfer energy, but was more distracted by Zewu-Jun, who gently but firmly pushed him back and took Wei Wuxian’s wrist away from Uncle, his finger curling back over the stone as it was released.

“These shouldn’t still be bleeding like this,” Zewu-Jun said, his fingers hovering over the open gashes in Wei Wuxian’s hand.

“Obviously not,” Uncle said. “Well, hold him still.”

“Wait!” Jin Ling said as Uncle started to pry open Wei Wuxian’s fingers, Zewu-Jun holding his wrist up. “What are you doing?”

“There’s a flow of energy between them,” Zewu-Jun said calmly. “Judging from the way the bleeding hasn’t stopped, it’s pulling energy from Wuxian and likely harming him.”

There was a jolt and snap in the spiritual power of the room as Uncle pulled the stone from Wei Wuxian’s palm. There was immediately another jolt, and Uncle dropped the stone to the bed and swore, shaking out his hand.

“What happened?” Sizhui called from beside Hanguang-Jun.

“Um,” Jin Ling said, watching as Uncle glared at the stone on the bed.

“Ah,” said Zewu-Jun, laying his fingertips on the side of Wei Wuxian’s throat. “We were wrong.”

“How so?” Uncle looked sharply up from glaring at the stone.

Zewu-Jun waited a moment longer and then nodded. “The flow of energy must have been from the stone, not into it. Don’t panic.”

“What’s there to panic about?” Jin Ling demanded, pressing in and immediately panicking. Wei Wuxian lay perfectly still, too still, and a faint blue tinge was spreading from his lips. Jin Ling’s voice rose uncontrollably. “He’s not breathing !”

There was a clatter from behind him and a white-faced Sizhui was abruptly beside him, his hand over his mouth.

Uncle released a massive sigh and pushed Wei Wuxian down the bed, making enough room for him to sit with legs crossed at his head. “It’s your turn next,” he informed Zewu-Jun, dragging Wei Wuxian’s head onto his calves and pressing a glowing hand to his forehead. “I’m not doing this forever.”

The blue tinge to Wei Wuxian’s skin immediately faded, replaced by a more natural but still too pale shade. “What happened?” Sizhui said, frantic enough that Jin Ling felt reassured that his own panic was justified and Zewu-Jun was the one who was too calm.

Zewu-Jun peeled back Wei Wuxian’s eyelids, revealing the burst blood vessels in his eyes that stained the whites red. Moving slowly, Uncle moving his hand to maintain steady contact with his forehead, he tipped up his chin and pulled his mouth open. “He’s still bleeding in his mouth,” he observed. “That array you saw him make, it was the source of that light?”

“Yes,” Jin Ling said impatiently. “What’s wrong with him?”

“He used that spiritual item and now all the resentful energy that was sitting in that lake is gone,” Zewu-Jun said. “All those spirits that had gathered are missing. Any cultivator would have to drain themselves to death to achieve something of that scale, but he was still conscious.” He looked down at the stone where it lay innocuously on the bedcover.

“It was made to help people, originally,” Jin Ling said, watching the subtle rise and fall of Wei Wuxian’s chest. “Maybe once the resentful energy was gone, it started helping again?”

“It didn’t feel like helping when it burned me for touching it,” Uncle said sardonically.

“If it was trying to keep Senior Wei alive, it wouldn’t have wanted you to take it,” Sizhui pointed out, straightening out Wei Wuxian’s arms and lingering with his hand on his pulse point. “Zewu-Jun, if he’s bleeding in his mouth he should be on his side, right?”

Jin Ling had never regretted his lack of attention to medical training, but now, watching Zewu-Jun roll his strangest uncle onto his side and carefully settle his head on Uncle’s crossed shins as blood began to trickle out of his mouth, he wished that someone in the room actually had some experience in medicine rather than just the ability to force a body to continue breathing.

With Wei Wuxian settled, Uncle’s hand still firmly on his forehead and passing spiritual energy to him, Zewu-Jun turned back to Hanguang-Jun, who hadn’t moved since Jin Ling had last looked at him.

“Sizhui, did he wake up at all?” Zewu-Jun asked, checking his pulse.

“No, Zewu-Jun,” Sizhui said, a little contritely. “I was distracted and didn’t give him enough spiritual energy.”

Zewu-Jun looked at Wei Wuxian, pale and dead-looking even if he was still alive, and then looked down at his brother and said, “It may be for the best.”

Jin Ling thought about some of the looks Hanguang-Jun had worn when standing between Wei Wuxian and harm, and considered them all lucky that he never had to know what had just happened.

“He’ll be fine with time,” Zewu-Jun said, patting Hanguang-Jun on his shoulder. “There are some wounds that he mentioned, but with meditation and rest for the exposure to resentful energy, he’ll recover.” He looked up at Jin Ling and Sizhui, a strained smile on his face, and amended, “They’ll both recover.”

He couldn’t help the dubious look he gave in return, but fortunately Zewu-Jun was already looking back to Hanguang-Jun.

“The innkeeper mentioned water and bandages,” Zewu-Jun said. “Sizhui, could you and Sect Leader Jin go and see what’s keeping him?”

“We don’t both need to go,” Jin Ling said as Sizhui immediately turned for the door.

“Jin Ling,” Uncle said without moving, his eyes closed in concentration.

“What?” Jin Ling crossed his arms stubbornly.

“Get out.”

“Why?!”

“You smell like a lake and won’t be helpful.”

Jin Ling drew himself up and inhaled deeply in preparation for an argument, but stopped short when Uncle cracked an eye open and looked at him. That in itself wouldn’t have stopped him, but something else did.

Uncle was smiling. Just a little, faint enough that he would probably deny it, but he looked almost relaxed, sitting there with Wei Wuxian’s head on his lap, both of them illuminated by the glow of his spiritual energy.

“Fine,” he said grumpily, pretending that the will to fight hadn’t washed right out of him. “You’d better take care of him.”

Uncle made a dismissive noise and closed his eye again, and Jin Ling didn’t have to bother to hide his smirk or relief anymore.

“You two can go rest first,” Zewu-Jun said. “I’ll call if something changes.”

“What about that?” Jin Ling said, pointing at the stone, still sitting on the bed beside Uncle. “Are we just going to leave it there?”

“For now I’ll keep it with me,” Zewu-Jun said, standing and opening an embroidered pouch. “I’m certain Wangji will want to deal with this item himself, but I’d prefer it contained in the meantime.”

Zewu-Jun slipped the stone into the pouch and tied the string closed without waiting for dissent, and Jin Ling certainly didn’t want it, so he nodded agreement and followed Sizhui out of the room.

The innkeeper was standing in the hall, a large basin of water at his feet and a basket of medical supplies in his arms. He startled when they stepped out, “Ah, Young Masters, I brought what I could find, but didn’t want to interrupt - they’re saying that storm was some kind of demon, is that so?”

“No, it wasn’t-” Jin Ling stopped talking and intercepted Sizhui as he bent down to lift the basin, taking the handles away and lifting it himself. “Your arm,” he said. “Do you want to keep making it worse?”

“It doesn’t hurt that badly,” Sizhui said, but he held his unbroken arm out for the basket anyway. “Thank you,” he said politely to the innkeeper. “We’ll bring it in.”

“Of course, I’m happy to help,” he said. “Can I bring anything else? Perhaps some more washing water?” His gaze flicked to Jin Ling, who was abruptly aware of how heavy his hair was with sediment and other grime he’d picked up from the lake and nodded. “Then I’ll be back.”

Zewu-Jun was picking at the ties of Hanguang-Jun’s robes when they stepped back inside, and Jin Ling understood instantly why they’d been told to leave. “Why didn’t you just say that you were going to undress him and didn’t want us in the room for that?” he asked. “That makes much more sense.”

“Jin Ling.” Uncle didn’t bother to open an eye that time, the warning clear enough.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Jin Ling said quickly, dropping off the basin.

After changing clothes and washing, Jin Ling was forced to admit that Uncle may have had a point about the lake smell. He threw the damp robes on top of the other soiled set, down to his last change of clothes and glad he wouldn’t need to try and scrub the mud and blood stains out himself.

The sky was light with pre-dawn yellow, and Jin Ling groaned as he looked out the window. Sizhui had left the room sometime while he’d been washing, but he found him quickly enough in the hallway, sitting on the floor outside the closed door.

“It’s been quiet,” he reported in a whisper. “How’s your side?”

Jin Ling had given the bandages up for a lost cause, soaked through as they’d been, but they’d kept the dirt out. “I put a new bandage on,” he said, just as quietly. “It’s fine.”

“What’s wrong with your side?” Uncle shouted through the door, and Jin Ling winced. Apparently whispering wasn’t quiet enough.

“Nothing!” he shouted back. “We’re going to sleep!”

“Jin Ling,” Uncle started, but there was no way he was coming out after him, so Jin Ling pulled Sizhui to his feet and back into their room, closing the door behind them.

Sizhui’s robes were dry enough, but the bandaging around his arm was still damp to the touch. “We should change those,” Jin Ling said.

“I will,” Sizhui agreed, but his eyes slid off Jin Ling and back to the door.

“Sizhui,” Jin Ling said, as reassuringly as he could. “Didn’t you see Uncle? It’s going to be fine.”

“I saw your uncle,” Sizhui said, but in an unfriendly way. “He threw Senior Wei on the bed and then took away the item that was keeping him alive.”

“Well, yes, but Zewu-Jun did that too,” Jin Ling admitted, and Sizhui’s mouth screwed up in a way that made him look as if he was about to cry. “No, no, but after, he was giving him spiritual energy and he smiled at me. He’ll take care of it.”

“He hates him,” Sizhui said flatly.

“No he doesn’t,” Jin Ling said, just as firmly. “I know he doesn’t.”

“Hm,” Sizhui said, unconvinced, and then abruptly lay down on his bed on top of the covers. “I’m going to sleep.”

Jin Ling watched for a moment, but Sizhui didn’t move again, his eyes tightly closed and his mouth firm, so he capped the candle, letting the room fall into darkness.

He listened to Sizhui’s breathing as it leveled out, focusing on that rather than the low voices that drifted in from the next room, and let sleep steal over him.

It was full light when he awoke again, the morning sun streaming in past the shutters, and he felt groggy and terrible enough to know that he hadn’t been asleep for long.

He wasn’t sure what had woken him, but Sizhui’s bed was empty, the covers as undisturbed as if he’d never laid down.

Jin Ling rolled out of bed, stumbling to the door and suppressing a yawn. The hallway was empty, but when he knocked on the door of the other room, Zewu-Jun opened it just a moment later.

“I thought you’d be asleep for longer,” he said quietly.

“Sizhui wasn’t in his bed,” Jin Ling said, bowing and trying not to sound too urgent. “Is he here?”

Zewu-Jun moved to one side, and Jin Ling could see Sizhui on his knees at Hanguang-Jun’s bedside, his shoulders slumped and head pillowed on his arms.

“He waited for you to fall asleep and then came back here,” Zewu-Jun said softly, and then smiled, much less forced than it had been. “They’re both doing well.”

“Uncle?” Jin Ling leaned around Zewu-Jun, who let him in to see Uncle, who was sitting in the same position as he had been and still lit up with spiritual energy.

“Back already?” Uncle said without heat. “If you’re coming in, come in. Don’t just stand in the doorway.”

Sizhui shifted as Jin Ling approached, so he switched paths to the other bed to avoid waking him. If Uncle looked as if he hadn’t moved, Wei Wuxian clearly had. The blood was gone from his face, along with most of the mud from his hair. His robes were different, and his hand was a mass of white bandages. 

“You missed some of the mud, Uncle,” Jin Ling pointed out, picking a chunk from Wei Wuxian’s hair and sliding it out.

“You think I did that? Do I look like a nursemaid?” Uncle said irritably, his eyes sliding open.

Jin Ling looked from where Uncle’s hand rested easily on Wei Wuxian’s forehead, to his other hand, which he had laid on his chest above his heart at some point, up to where Uncle looked steadily at him, daring him to respond.

He did look like a nursemaid. Jin Ling decided not to answer.

Uncle got the point anyway though, from the way his eyebrows drew together. “I’m taking my people back out to that lake to look for any traces of resentful energy so we can leave. I’ve already spent too much time here, and so have you. Did you tell anyone at Carp Tower you were leaving or did you just go?”

“Of course I didn’t just go,” said Jin Ling, who had in fact only told two people that he was leaving and had also said that he expected to be back within the week, but if he’d returned yesterday that actually would have been true. He could hardly be expected to have guessed how long it would take.

“The Nie Sect can manage any further clean-up, regardless,” Uncle said. “He should be grateful enough to get his possessed cultivator back in one piece.” He pushed out from underneath Wei Wuxian. “Zewu-Jun, you’ll take care of that stone?”

“Yes,” Zewu-Jun said. “You’ll return to Lotus Pier, then?” His voice was neutral, but his face looked almost disapproving, and Jin Ling couldn’t understand why until he looked down at Wei Wuxian, who still lay silent and still on the bed, a stream of energy flowing into him from Uncle’s hand.

“I’ll see what the situation is out there, first,” Uncle said, and if he noticed Zewu-Jun’s hint he didn’t react to it. “If there’s any danger, we’ll stay until it’s under control.” Without further warning, he took his hand away from Wei Wuxian’s forehead, the energy stream breaking off and dissolving into nothing.

Jin Ling froze, but Uncle just flicked his finger against Wei Wuxian’s cheek, who made a nearly silent groaning noise and turned his face away. “He’ll be fine,” Uncle announced to the room. “Jin Ling, if I come back here and you’ve gone off on your own again, I’ll catch you and break your legs.”

He didn’t close the door behind himself softly, and Jin Ling sat down on the edges of Wei Wuxian’s bed and watched him breathe. Something was twitching in his memory, something that Uncle probably needed to know. 

Oh, that.

“Zewu-Jun, I have to go.”

“Oh?” Zewu-Jun said, looking up from Hanguang-Jun’s bedside, where he’d been politely pretending not to listen in. “What’s happened?”

“Sect Leader Nie left some cultivators here, and I sent one as a messenger to Carp Tower with orders to gather everyone they could find on short notice and come here. And to Lotus Pier, just to Uncle so nothing will come of it, but you should also expect the Nie Sect to turn up in the next day or so.”

“Ah, you’re right then. Someone needs to put a stop to that,” Zewu-Jun said after a moment of stunned silence. “You could also send another messenger, though.”

“It’s faster if I go,” Jin Ling said, leaving out that he’d rather not ask Uncle to loan him someone to take a message, because then he’d have to explain that he’d called nearly every major sect for reinforcements and an army would be on their way shortly. It had been to rescue the Chief Cultivator, so he could use that as an excuse, but if he just left a note he could go, Uncle could read it, and he’d probably be ready to be reasonable by the time Jin Ling got back.

“Sizhui did also mention that you’d been injured,” Zewu-Jun said, standing up. Jin Ling cast a narrowed glance at the top of Sizhui’s traitorous head. “Perhaps it would be best if you waited for Sect Leader Jiang to return and asked him to send messages for you.”

He didn’t make a threat, and phrased it like a suggestion, but Jin Ling looked up at his considerable height, recalled how easily he’d lifted Hanguang-Jun, and decided that asking Uncle for a messenger was the less risky path.

Instead he busied himself watching Wei Wuxian for signs that he was going to give up on breathing again. His heart felt steady enough, and there didn’t seem to be blood coming out of him anymore, but he felt justified in being a little concerned.

Eventually the innkeeper brought food, and he realized that he was not just hungry but annoyingly so. Sizhui certainly was as well, so with a look at Zewu-Jun, who had turned to meditation and been sitting quietly on the floor for some time, he shook him awake cautiously.

“Sizhui,” he whispered. “Sizhui, there’s food.”

Sizhui lifted his head and blinked repeatedly, his face imprinted with red marks from the folds of his sleeve and how long he’d slept without moving. “Jin Ling? Is something wrong?”

“No, just-” he pointed at the table. “There’s food. I thought you’d be hungry.”

“Is Hanguang-Jun alright? Is Senior Wei?”

“Yes,” Jin Ling said, a bit impatiently. “You’ve been right beside Hanguang-Jun this whole time, you’d know if anything had happened.”

“Right. Yes.”

“Wei Wuxian is breathing on his own now. Uncle’s gone to make sure nothing’s happening at the lake,” Jin Ling added, and Sizhui frowned.

“Jin Ling, about Sect Leader Jiang-”

“It’s getting cold,” he interrupted, trying to head off another uncomfortable conversation about Uncle.

He sat at the table and busied himself with shoveling rice and chicken into his mouth so that Sizhui couldn’t bring it up again without breaking the rule about speaking while eating. Sizhui eventually joined him, and Jin Ling pretended to not notice the alternating looks he was giving to Wei Wuxian, Hanguang-Jun, and himself, slowing down his pace of eating to buy himself time to think of something else to talk about.

His plan was for nothing though when Sizhui laid down his chopsticks after only a few bites and leaned close, whispering, “I’m sorry about what I said earlier about Sect Leader Jiang. You were right.”

Jin Ling was caught with his mouth full and nearly choked, but Sizhui pressed on, “But if he doesn’t hate him, why does he act like he does?”

They were getting into an area that Jin Ling didn’t like to think about. He stuffed another piece of chicken in his mouth and willed Sizhui to stop. He knew enough of their history to not truly need that question answered.

Sizhui nodded, looking down at the table, and picked up his chopsticks again.

“What made you change your mind?” Jin Ling asked impulsively, then glanced at Zewu-Jun, making sure his eyes were still closed. They were, but he dropped his voice down low anyway. “About Uncle, how could you tell?”

Sizhui set his chopsticks back down again. “You asked if I’d seen him, so when I came back I looked again.” He immediately picked them up again and started eating from the bowl of vegetables, and Jin Ling let the topic go.

Uncle didn’t return for hours, and when he did, he was holding a sword in a white sheath that had obviously been recently cleaned. “Here,” he said to Sizhui, holding it out to him. “I found this.”

“Oh,” Sizhui said, a wide smile spreading across his face. He accepted his sword and bowed. “Thank you, Sect Leader Jiang.”

“It was halfway through a tree and took two people to pull it loose,” Uncle said without inflection. “If you were holding it, I’m surprised you still have use of that arm.”

Jin Ling took a sidelong look at Sizhui to see if he’d heard the barely implied praise, but he just blinked and bowed again, returning to stand beside Wei Wuxian. 

“There’s nothing out there,” Uncle said to Zewu-Jun, who rose from his knees to stand as he spoke. “The resentful energy was scattered broadly enough that it won’t attract anything else, and the spirits haven’t returned.”

“Could you tell if they’d moved on, or just been moved?” Zewu-Jun asked.

“You’ll have to ask him,” Uncle said, jerking his chin toward Wei Wuxian, “but there was nothing there. I’d say moved on, but we put out some spirit-attracting flags and nets to be sure nothing crawls out of the hills tonight.”

Zewu-Jun nodded acknowledgement. “One more thing, Sect Leader Jiang. It seems that the Nie cultivators that were stationed here informed the Jin Sect that Sect Leader Jin was here and required reinforcements, and given the speed with which I left the Unclean Realm to come here once I learned that Sect Leader Nie couldn’t have been the source of the letter, I’m certain they’ll be mobilizing as well. Could I trouble you to send messengers to Carp Tower, Unclean Realm and Cloud Recesses to calm the situation? In return, I’ll monitor the nets in their place.”

Jin Ling tried not to look too surprised and grateful at Zewu-Jun, but Uncle just waved a hand. “It shouldn’t be a problem. That Zhang Minjing can make himself useful and go to the Nie Sect himself, so I won’t need to spare someone for that. You’ll provide a letter for Cloud Recesses?”

“Of course. Thank you.” Zewu-Jun stepped to the writing desk in the corner of the room, where Hanguang-Jun’s writing supplies were still neatly laid out. As he turned away from Uncle, he lifted an eyebrow at Jin Ling, who snapped out of marveling at how neatly he’d saved Jin Ling from a lecture and stood up.

“I’ll write one for Carp Tower,” he said quickly, giving Uncle a wide berth as he returned to his room.

He’d just knelt, digging through his belongings for paper, when Uncle appeared in the doorway. “Should I send one to Lotus Pier as well?” he asked. “Or did you not send someone there?”

“You’re already here and sent Liu Ya back last night, so they’ll know not to come,” Jin Ling said without thought, and then cringed. “You knew I sent them?”

“Of course you sent for help, you’d lost the Chief Cultivator,” Uncle said. “Keep the letter brief. I’m sure it’ll break the hearts of a few vultures, but all they need to know is that you and Hanguang-Jun are safe and the situation is resolved.”

“Is that really all they need to know?” Jin Ling asked, clenching the sleeves of his robes. “Uncle, I know why it wanted me. I know what the Jin clan did after the Sunshot Campaign.”

The door closed with a quiet thump, and Uncle knelt beside him on the floor. “You’re not responsible for that.”

“The people who were are still around though, aren’t they? Shouldn’t I do something about it? Aren’t I the Sect Leader?”

“Are you? Running off to Qishan with the Yiling Patriarch, is that what the Sect Leader should do?” Uncle looked almost like he regretted saying it, but Jin Ling’s temper had already flared.

“You’re here too, aren’t you?” he shouted. “What should I have done? Assigned someone to look into it? They’d be dead now!”

“It’s different for me,” Uncle growled, grabbing Jin Ling’s arm and squeezing. “I’ve been the Sect Leader for twenty years and came into it during a war. I have their trust that when I leave I’ll come back and that the Sect will function in my absence. You’re younger than I was and inherited the position after the biggest scandal-”

Jin Ling pulled his arm free. “I know that!”

“There are people in your sect who would laugh to hear you’d died, A-Ling.”

“I know that, too, but I’m not going to spend my entire life in Carp Tower giving them more reasons to laugh at me while I’m alive. How am I supposed to rebuild a sect if I don’t do anything? You didn’t just hide at Lotus Pier and hope that things would improve!”

“You have to stay alive to do anything. Have you listened to anything I’ve ever said? If you don’t stay alive, it won’t matter that you were right. You’re dead all the same.”

Chapter Text

A muffled groan caught Jin Ling’s attention. He abandoned the letter he was reading, which was just a thinly veiled scolding from one of the more senior branch families and therefore not important, and scrambled over to Wei Wuxian’s bedside. There was no one in the room to see him rushing in such an undignified way anyway, since Hanguang-Jun had only woken up for short periods and was asleep now, and it was his turn to keep watch.

It had been three days since Wei Wuxian had even moved, and Jin Ling had started to wonder if he ever would again. He’d hurry if he wanted to.

Apart from that little bit of groaning, Wei Wuxian didn’t seem to be waking up at all. Jin Ling considered his face for a moment, his lips slack and dry and eyes just barely closed, and impulsively poked two fingers into his cheek, pushing his face around.

“Wei Wuxian!” he whispered, pressing a bit harder and glancing over his shoulder to make sure Hanguang-Jun wasn’t awake. His eyes were closed, and it was late enough in the evening that even Sizhui and Zewu-Jun had gone to sleep. He was probably safe. “Wei Wuxian!”

He was rewarded by Wei Wuxian’s nose wrinkling and his hand clumsily rising up from the covers to bat Jin Ling’s hand away. It was his right hand, which was more of a club of bandages than a hand, so Jin Ling had to quickly switch from pushing his cheek to grabbing his wrist to save him from bashing it into his nose.

Wei Wuxian’s eyes opened slightly, just enough that Jin Ling could see them twitch, and then he closed them again with a mumbled, “Go away.”

It was pathetic enough that Jin Ling felt slightly bad about switching to tapping on his forehead, gently but incessantly, but the well of excitement was much stronger. He’d been waiting forever. Standing guard at empty spirit-attracting nets,  listening as Zewu-Jun played healing music and ignoring Uncle’s increasingly firm statements that it was time to go back to Carp Tower could only fill so much time, and he was both bored and worried. Hanguang-Jun had woken up a dozen times already, even if he was too unwell to stay awake, but this was the first time Wei Wuxian had moved.

“Wake up,” he commanded, pausing the tapping, and one eye came open for a moment before flinching closed again. He took a deep breath, steeled himself, and in the sweetest voice he could come up with called, “Uncle, time to wake up!”

Wei Wuxian’s lips curled up into a faint smile and his breath huffed out in a tiny laugh. “Jin Ling, I’m tired. Stop playing.”

“Three days isn’t enough sleep?” Jin Ling said. “Think about how concerned some people have been.”

“Who’s concerned?” Wei Wuxian grumbled, edging towards the wall and away from Jin Ling’s hand. “Not you, clearly.”

“Of course not. But think about Hanguang-Jun.” That wasn’t strictly true, since Hanguang-Jun hadn’t been awake long enough to be properly concerned. Zewu-Jun had said it was to be expected with his injuries and exhaustion, especially when coupled with all the resentful energy he’d been exposed to, but Jin Ling was sure that he would have been worried if he’d known to be.

Wei Wuxian’s eyes opened immediately. “Lan Zhan!” He tried to sit up and promptly fell right back down with a gasp.

At least he was awake. “Hanguang-Jun is fine. He’s asleep over there.” Jin Ling moved to the side so Wei Wuxian could see across the room to the other bed.

“Good,” he said, and closed his eyes again.

“Don’t go back to sleep,” Jin Ling said, tapping him again. “You should drink something, at least.”

He filled a cup with water and returned. Wei Wuxian glared at him sleepily, making no effort to sit up. “I don’t want it.”

“How old are you?” Jin Ling asked. 

“Three,” he mumbled, and then froze. 

“What’s wrong? Does it hurt?” Jin Ling hovered uncertainly.

“No.” Wei Wuxian pushed at the bed ineffectually, trying to sit up. He eventually shoved his unbandaged hand out at him, despite it visibly shaking. “Give me the water.”

“You’re going to drop it.”

“Then what?” He had changed in an instant from sleepy and whining to awake and annoyed, and Jin Ling wasn’t sure what he’d done, but he thought he knew what to do.

“This.” He put a hand under Wei Wuxian’s far shoulder, supporting his head with his forearm, and lifted him off the bed, sliding underneath him so that he was at least tilted up and ignoring his surprised noise. He held the cup to his mouth. “Well?”

Even from behind, he could see Wei Wuxian was frowning. He tipped the cup up threateningly. “If you don’t want this on you, you’d better open your mouth.”

“Bossy,” Wei Wuxian said, but he parted his lips to let Jin Ling pour water in slowly and closed them, swallowing with effort. 

“Drink the whole cup and you can go back to sleep,” Jin Ling offered, and Wei Wuxian made a noise of disgust.

“Don’t-” Jin Ling poured more water into his mouth, stopping his complaint, so he clamped his lips together and squirmed away, flopping back down onto the bed.

“So you don’t want to go back to sleep?” Jin Ling asked. Wei Wuxian gave him a fairly lively angry stare in return, but there was sweat beading on his forehead and he was breathing quite hard. He took mercy on him, putting the cup down on the floor beside the bed and helping him lie down properly again as he returned to kneeling at the bedside.

“Be nicer to me,” he complained. “I’m tired.”

“Isn’t that your own fault?” Jin Ling asked. “What did you do down there?”

“I’m tired,” he whined again, drawing it out. “You talk first. Did I miss any trouble?”

“Zewu-Jun and Uncle have been taking care of things. Sect Leader Nie arrived yesterday and...” Jin Ling watched as Wei Wuxian’s eyes started to close again and reconsidered whether he should be keeping him awake even if he wanted to talk to him. “Are you listening?”

He blinked awake again. “I’m fine. Zewu-Jun and Jiang Cheng are here?”

“Are you joking?” Jin Ling asked, but Wei Wuxian just blinked at him. “They were here when you came up from the lake. Uncle carried you back here. You told Hanguang-Jun that you’d be fine with him.”

“Oh. I don’t remember. Jiang Cheng did that?”

“And then he gave you his spiritual energy for hours because you couldn’t breathe by yourself.” Wei Wuxian’s eyes slipped closed as he smiled, which Jin Ling thought was the incorrect reaction. “You were dying,” he said bluntly. “What did you do? Why did you do it?”

“It wanted me to,” he said, drifting away. Jin Ling leaned closer. “Back then, I wanted...”

“Back when?”

There was no answer. Jin Ling stayed there until Wei Wuxian’s breathing leveled out, and then went back to looking out the window.

Jin Ling woke in the morning to the sun streaming through the window and a familiar voice complaining. “And then he tried to drown me, can you believe it, Lan Zhan? ‘Drink the whole cup before I’ll permit you to sleep’, when did Jin Ling start being so cruel?”

“Terrible.”

Hanguang-Jun didn’t sound like he thought it was terrible, though it was hard to tell, so Jin Ling chanced opening his eyes and found himself lying on the table, his letter wrinkled and a little damp. Wei Wuxian had moved, somehow, and was pouting from the floor beside Hanguang-Jun’s bed, one arm thrown across Hanguang-Jun’s legs and his chin propped on the mattress as he slouched. For his part, Hanguang-Jun was sitting in the bed and patting the top of his head, but his eyes were on Jin Ling.

“Ah, he did well though, right Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian said, yawning.

“Mm.” Hanguang-Jun was still looking at him. Jin Ling wasn’t sure what to do.

“And Sizhui! You should have seen him, though I suppose if you could’ve seen him he wouldn’t have needed to be so impressive. He’s very good.”

“Mm.”  

Wei Wuxian yawned again, louder. “Ah, I’m still so tired, Lan Zhan, this is too annoying! You’re already looking so much better!”

“Be more careful with yourself, then,” Hanguang-Jun said, finally deciding to ignore Jin Ling and looking back down at Wei Wuxian. “You shouldn’t have taken it so far.”

“Of the two of us, who made it out of bed first?” Wei Wuxian said, wriggling his way up until he could put his elbow on Hanguang-Jun’s bed. “It seems like you’re the one who-”

He cut off with a yelp as Hanguang-Jun leaned forward, wrapped his arms around him and dragged him up and across him onto the bed, so quickly that Jin Ling almost missed it.

Wei Wuxian was stunned and quiet for a moment, then burst out laughing and wrapped an arm around Hanguang-Jun’s shoulders, pulling him closer. “I take it back, I surrender! Hanguang-Jun is so healthy and strong, what can Wei Ying-”

“Jin Ling is awake.”

Jin Ling was also already halfway to the door when Hanguang-Jun spoke, but he stopped when both of them looked at him. “I was just going,” he said, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“No, wait,” said Wei Wuxian, unwrapping his arm from Hanguang-Jun. “You wanted to talk to me so badly last night, Jin Ling, did you change your mind?”

Hanguang-Jun stood up, and if Jin Ling hadn’t been watching he wouldn’t have seen the slight waver when he did. “I will go to Sizhui,” he said. Standing, Jin Ling could see the bandages around his middle that filled out his robe, but once he realized that whether he was looking for bandages or not, he was watching Hanguang-Jun dress, he quickly looked away. Fortunately for him, Wei Wuxian had no such compunction about looking at Hanguang-Jun and had noticed nothing.

By the time he left the room, the bandages were indistinguishable under his layers of clothing, and Hanguang-Jun was as impeccable in appearance as he’d ever been. It was a reassuring sort of normalcy, but as soon as Hanguang-Jun was gone, Wei Wuxian dragged himself up the bed until he was propped almost upright and sent a wide grin Jin Ling’s way that promised trouble.

“How did you manage to get over there if you can’t even sit up?” Jin Ling asked.

“I have my ways,” Wei Wuxian said loftily, but there were streaks of dust down the side of his white robe and a matching clean swath on the floor between the two beds. He dragged the bedcover over himself when he saw Jin Ling looking, and turned his arrogant look into a shrug. “The cleanliness here leaves something to be desired.”

“So you swept up with your robe,” Jin Ling said. “Perfectly sensible.” 

Wei Wuxian frowned at him, but Jin Ling didn’t think he meant it. “So, you came to get us,” he said, looking more serious. “Thank you.”

Jin Ling wasn’t ready for his shift into sincerity, and couldn’t think of what to say. He eventually forced out, “Well, I said I would. You were supposed to wait there, so what about your end of the deal?”

“Jin Ling, can’t you accept even a little gratitude? What are you going to do if I start praising you?”

He didn’t know, but he did look for the door. Wei Wuxian laughed like he was going to start teasing him again, but Jin Ling found he wasn’t in the mood for it.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his stomach churning. “I didn’t know how to do anything. I came back, but I was just another person you had to rescue.”

“Not so,” Wei Wuxian said sharply, then sighed. “Come here so I can talk to you properly, I don’t want to shout across the room.” 

Jin Ling was too surprised to do anything but obey. Wei Wuxian usually spoke to him in a gentle way, but just then he’d sounded more like Uncle than anyone else. He sat down beside the bed, close enough that when he looked up at Wei Wuxian he could see the way his hands were still trembling with exhaustion. “What happened to you?” he asked.

“I took it too far,” Wei Wuxian said, without regret and far too casually. “But Jin Ling, don’t you know that if you hadn’t come after us we’d still be there? Or probably by now it would’ve been frustrated and drowned us.”

“You don’t have to lie,” Jin Ling mumbled. “You did everything yourself. You didn’t even need Uncle and Zewu-Jun.”

“I just spent-” He raised an eyebrow. “How long was it between when you left and came back? I wasn’t keeping track of time.”

“Half a day and night,” Jin Ling guessed. “Maybe a bit more.”

“I can spend that long trapped at the bottom of a lake as a spiritual item tries to possess me and you’ll still say that I didn’t need help? Jin Ling, you’re putting too much faith in me.”

“But I saw you do it,” he said as Wei Wuxian smiled at him frustratingly.

“You thought you did. It showed you some things, right?”

For a moment, Wei Wuxian’s face was overlaid with the hateful smile he’d seen through the eyes of the Wen captain. Jin Ling shivered and nodded.

“And while it was showing you things, could you have done anything?”

He shook his head. “Then… it was making you see things too? What did you see?”

“Nothing important,” Wei Wuxian said lightly. “But it was confusing, and I couldn’t find Lan Zhan, so I was upset. And then I was at that pond, and you were there.” He smiled. “Except it didn’t go like that in reality, did it?”

Jin Ling’s eyes were already closed in exasperation when Wei Wuxian said, far too pleased with himself, “The geese were gone!”

“You’re joking.”

“I mean it!”

“Explain it seriously,” Jin Ling demanded. 

“Fine.” Wei Wuxian slumped down even further against the back of the bed. “You saw what happened to the stone. Originally, it was a powerful item that its owner used to purify spirits, so strong that it was halfway aware already. Without someone to guide it, it drew too much resentful energy out of the spirits and their partial consciousnesses drove it to become fully aware. After that, it was all mixed up with the spirits and the resentful energy, so it wanted what the spirits wanted. Revenge against those who wronged them.”

Jin Ling nodded. He had understood that much already, but didn’t want to risk Wei Wuxian going into a side-story if he interrupted. 

“But the problem is that even with all that, it was still just an object and not very smart or creative. All it could do is what it saw other people do, or what it could learn from the memories of the spirits, and they hadn’t kept much of their humanity. It wanted revenge, but it didn’t have any ideas how to get it. Eventually, as it gathered more spirits and more resentful energy, that didn’t matter so much anymore. I guess that woodcutter just happened to be the first unlucky person who touched the water after it reached that point. He was just a normal person, so there was no way he could survive that much resentful energy possessing him for long. But that Nie cultivator was here, and he would’ve lasted much longer before it killed him, so-”

“He didn’t die,” Jin Ling interrupted.

“Didn’t he? How do you know?”

“He went to Lotus Pier after he left Carp Tower, and Uncle saw that he was possessed.”

“Ah,” Wei Wuxian said, wincing in sympathy. “I imagine he’s still feeling Zidian.”

“I didn’t ask him,” Jin Ling said indifferently. “Sect Leader Nie was happy to see him, though.”

“Though, you risked a lot too, jumping into the lake if Jiang Cheng was there. I’m surprised you can still walk.”

“He’s angry,” Jin Ling said, a little less casually then he’d meant to, but Wei Wuxian just nodded and moved on.

“Where was I? Right, so it learned it could possess people and decided that since it had managed with two people, it just needed to lure more people here and then it could deal with them.” He sighed. “Here’s where it gets embarrassing for me.”

“Already?”

“Empathy,” Wei Wuxian said flatly. “Of course some of the cultivator spirits that it had knew what Empathy is, but very few people actually use it, so when I tried to perform Empathy with the woodcutter, it must have been a revelation. Here was a new weapon for it, not just the clouds and storm and water, but something that would let it into people’s minds without brute force. I’m surprised that Nie cultivator survived, actually, since it got in him before me,” he said contemplatively. “Maybe he tried Empathy too. We should ask him.”

“What does Empathy have to do with anything?” Jin Ling asked.

“Oh, right. You’ve never experienced it, so you wouldn’t have recognized it, but that place that looked like the lakeshore was its attempt at Empathy. The difference is that it didn’t have permission, so it couldn’t take control of your body right away, and was trying to wear you down so it could take you. But you wanted to know about the geese, so-”

“I don’t care about the geese.”

“You should! It had us in a tight grip, trying to break our defenses so it could get in, and then suddenly I was back in Gusu and you were there. It dragged you in, and you wanted to find me so much that you did! That’s part of Empathy - the spirit can force it to go the way they want, if they’re strong enough. So you were there, and yelling at me very passionately, and I realized that it was all wrong. You were supposed to be covered in dirt, but obviously you wouldn’t do that to yourself, so I knew that you were in control at that moment.”

Wei Wuxian beamed at him, and Jin Ling felt faintly dizzy. “You wanted me to remember what was going on, so I did! And then I gave you a piece of me so I could find you again, broke out when it was distracted by you, found Lan Zhan, and then we came and got you. So you see, you were essential.”

At the reminder, Jin Ling stuck his hand in his sleeve and pulled out the real ribbon. It was crumpled from being handled so roughly, but Wei Wuxian’s grin got even brighter. “This is yours,” he said.

“You didn’t just throw it away immediately?” Wei Wuxian said, pleased. He chose not to dignify that with a response.

“Sizhui has Chenqing. You should take better care of your things.”

“Why would I when I have such good kids finding them for me?” Wei Wuxian reached out for the ribbon, but paused, letting his hand fall to the bed. “Jin Ling, as for the rest, I told Lan Zhan that I would break the bonds of resentful energy between the object and the spirits but not try to handle all the spirits and resentful energy at once. That array was something that I thought of a long time ago for a different place, but I never had the chance to try it and like I said, that object is powerful but not very intelligent. It didn't want to hurt anyone, and regretted that it had. When I grabbed it and started channeling the resentful energy away from it, it decided to help and wouldn’t let go.”

“Hanguang-Jun said that you were fine while that array was activated, but you clearly weren’t,” Jin Ling recalled.

“I was fine! He’s a little unhappy now, because I wasn’t supposed to try so hard, but he understands why. It was very persuasive about what it thought we could do, and it worked! It cleared up all that resentful energy and most of the spirits, so I don’t mind that I’m tired now.”

“I mind.” Anger bubbled up inside him. So what if he’d helped, so what if the stone regretted what it did if Wei Wuxian didn’t regret what he’d done. “Zewu-Jun said that you should be dead. How could you be so careless? Do you think that if you died that it would be fine?”

“Jin Ling.” Wei Wuxian’s voice cut through as his rose. “Of course not. Of course I don’t want- I’m sorry. I should have said it seriously.”

He looked at Wei Wuxian again, at the broken blood vessels still in the corners of his eyes, the way he lay against the bed like he couldn’t move if he wanted to, and waited.

“I don’t know if I can explain why I did it. Did… When it was showing you the spirits’ memories, did you see me?”

Jin Ling nodded. There was nothing to say.

“Then you know, and I don’t have to tell you. Scary, right? Wei Wuxian with the Yin Tiger Seal, the horrifying nightmare of the Sunshot Campaign. I wanted to leave him in the past, but he keeps coming back.” He sighed. “So when you said that Qishan was full of the dead even now, I wanted to fix it. I was alive for long enough after the Sunshot Campaign that I could have done something, but Lotus Pier had been ransacked, and then Wen Qing needed me, and-” He shook his head. “So that’s why.”

“You felt guilty?”

“I am guilty.” Wei Wuxian summoned up a wan smile, but it fell off his face as quickly as it came. “It was right about that. The entire cultivation world still has blood on its hands, and it will until we make peace with the spirits here.”

“The Jin Sect-” He didn’t want to know, not truly, but he had to. Uncle had dismissed it out of hand, told him that it wasn’t his responsibility, that he had too tenuous a grip on the Sect to even begin pushing towards making reparations, but he couldn’t put it out of his mind. He’d been thinking about it over and over the last few days, and Wei Wuxian was the only person who could answer one of his questions.

Wei Wuxian flinched, like he knew what was coming. “Yes?” He prompted.

“Did you know? About all the people who died after the war was over?”

“We all did. And then we thought it had stopped, and we all went home, and so we allowed it to continue.”

There were things that he’d been told about Wei Wuxian, things that he had carefully stored away and stopped thinking about when Jin Guangyao had been exposed. He couldn’t hate him anymore, but he didn’t want the answers either.

“You allied yourself with the Wens who survived. Was it because of that?”

Wei Wuxian looked towards the wall. “Jin Ling, I can’t talk about this part with you.”

The traitorous Yiling Patriarch had kept an army of Wen cultivators by his side. They’d all finally been killed when…

“My father.” Sect Heir Jin Zixuan had been murdered by the Ghost General, the final blow of the Yiling Patriarch before he and his Wen followers had all been killed. “They’re saying now that Jin Guangyao arranged his death so he would be the heir. But before, they said that you- Did he-” His voice was wavering, and he swallowed, tightening his lips. He wouldn’t shy away from this. “Was he involved in exterminating the surviving Wens? Is that why you-”

“No.” Wei Wuxian forced himself upright, the veins on his neck standing out from the effort, but when his unbandaged hand clamped onto Jin Ling’s shoulder his fingers dug in with surprising strength. “No.” His breath came unsteadily, but Jin Ling was the one blinking away tears. “He was not, and would never. He was trying to help me, and- It was a mistake. I didn’t mean to.”

There was a roaring in his ears, a strange distance between him and the floor he knelt on. He stood, and the room turned around him sharply, but when the spinning slowed Suihua was in the rack where he’d left it. He stumbled over, and his hand on the grip grounded him. The room solidified, and Wei Wuxian was watching him, his lips parted like he wanted to talk but nothing coming out.

He laughed. It was a relief! It was! At least his father hadn’t been the sort of person his grandfather was, that his uncle was. At least he had that.

He wasn’t laughing anymore. He wiped his face with his sleeve roughly.

“I want to fix this,” he said, his voice strange in his ears. “What do I do?”

Wei Wuxian pushed himself forward, leaning towards him. “Well, Sect Leader,” he said, and for the first time he didn’t sound like he was joking when he said it. “I think that’s for you to decide.”

“Why does anyone ever let you name things? First your terrible dog, and now that?”

Fairy whined, and Jin Ling narrowed his eyes at Lan Jingyi, who stared right back. “No one asked you,” he said.

“Who needs to ask me?” Lan Jingyi said. “The rocks and trees? The road? You can’t name a spiritual item Little Monster.”

Jin Ling rolled the stone out of his sleeve and held it between two fingers. “Look at it! It’s little, and it almost cultivated into a monster! What else should I call it?”

“Something poetic! ‘The Pearl in Clouds’, or maybe ‘Peace After Rain’.” Lan Jingyi shrugged. “Where’s Sizhui? Does he know you’re calling it that? Does Senior Wei?”

“Wei Wuxian said it doesn’t like him and I should take care of it,” Jin Ling informed him loftily. “So he doesn’t get a say.”

Lan Jingyi snickered into his hand and clapped Jin Ling on the back. “Is Sizhui coming? He’s been spending so much time at Carp Tower that I never see him anymore. Is he really just bringing messages from Hanguang-Jun, or are you trying to convince him to defect?”

“If I was, all I’d do is stand beside you and offer a comparison,” Jin Ling said, crossing his arms and forcing a frown.

“Sect Leader Jin, is this how you'll treat me? Even after I came out to escort you into our camp?” Lan Jingyi ruined his offended look by smirking at the end of it.

Jin Ling looked past Lan Jingyi into the Lan Sect’s camp. Set back from the road in a peaceful looking field, rows of tents in sizes ranging from those that could only house a single person to those that could hold the entire camp for a meal were laid out in an orderly fashion. Despite the calm appearance, the multitude of defensive talismans covering the outermost tents and the knee high fence surrounding the entire encampment made it clear that they expected trouble.

“Who thought of the fence?” he asked.

“Senior Wei did, technically, when he told us about the coffin home in Yi City, but it was my idea to put a fence up. There’s only been a few fierce corpses so far, but most of them haven’t been able to get through.”

“Good idea,” Jin Ling said, and Lan Jingyi blinked at him.

“You’ve softened up, Sect Leader Jin.” Jin Ling scowled, and Lan Jingyi immediately smiled. “There’s the Young Mistress I missed! Are you hungry? I can find you some food.”

“I’m fine,” Jin Ling said. “Sizhui should be here soon, if you want to see him so badly. He was with Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-Jun a bit east of here, so I’ll eat with them.”

Tracks had been cleared through the grass of the field between the tents. It wasn’t what Jin Ling expected when he thought of a major battlefield, but when Lan Jingyi led him to the meeting tent he had to stop for a moment.

He’d seen this place before. Something was familiar, even though the Lan camp had only been there for a few days and Jin Ling had never been in the area. He looked around.

The treeline was different, the road was different, but he knew that line of mountains. 

The Lan Sect had put their camp exactly where that Wen army had during the Sunshot Campaign. He felt a twinge, a vague memory of horror and grief, but the immediacy of the memories that the stone had shown him had faded away, leaving behind just the knowledge of what had happened to them.

It didn’t look like a battlefield anymore, but it had certainly been one.

“Jin Ling! Jingyi!”

He turned to see Sizhui waving at him, Hanguang-Jun standing alongside with Wei Wuxian nearly completely hidden behind him. Right.

“Fairy, go away,” he ordered, and Fairy trotted off, well used to that order when Wei Wuxian was around.

“Hanguang-Jun!” Lan Jingyi called, rushing past Jin Ling to go and greet him. “Senior Wei! Welcome!”

Wei Wuxian waited a moment longer before he stepped out from behind Hanguang-Jun, as if he expected Fairy to come rushing back. “Of course the Lan Sect built the nicest camp,” he observed. “I’ll have to tell Nie-xiong and Jiang Cheng to start sending junior disciples to Lan Qiren for training again.”

Jin Ling coughed, and Wei Wuxian laughed. “A-Ling, of course your camps are good as well. Don’t be jealous.”

The Qishan discussion conference, which was the official name they’d given to the short set of conversations they’d had once Jin Ling had pointed out that the four main sect leaders and the Chief Cultivator were present, had concluded that something had to be done about the situation in Qishan.

Only one person had died, and a valuable spiritual item had been recovered, but it had revealed that the cultivators traveling to Qishan to hone their skills against a seemingly inexhaustible supply of fierce corpses and resentful spirits weren’t improving the situation, which in many places had even grown worse over time. Without active efforts to put the dead to rest, Qishan would stay a dangerous place for anyone trying to live there, with the potential to spill across borders.

Jin Ling had mainly considered that it was the right thing to do, but in the end the argument that it could end with trouble at their own doorsteps had won over more people.

Sect Leader Nie had surprised him by agreeing almost as soon as Jin Ling had said that they should build camps near the worst areas and work to clear them. Wei Wuxian had already told Hanguang-Jun what Jin Ling had wanted, and he had said very little, but Zewu-Jun had nodded and added that the Lan Sect would be pleased to exchange disciples with other sects in order to build groups with varying skills in a way that made it obvious he’d already considered it carefully.

Jin Ling had cornered Uncle before they’d sat down as a group, and after the initial resistance, which he’d expected, Uncle had folded, which he’d also expected.

So by the time they’d sat down for the so-called Discussion Conference, they’d all been in agreement. That was why the talks had been short. 

Not long after that, and fortunately out of the earshot of Hanguang-Jun, Uncle had offered to drown Wei Wuxian himself to save him the trouble of finding a monster to do it, and Wei Wuxian had thrown himself across the table to hug him. 

They had left that out of the official record of the conference.

It had taken time to organize it and to convince the various minor sects to participate, but now, some months later, cultivators from all over had journeyed to Qishan and started their work.

Wei Wuxian looked around again, and Jin Ling saw the same sense of recognition he’d felt on his face. Hanguang-Jun was Hanguang-Jun, and showed nothing.

“It’s a good location,” Wei Wuxian said neutrally. “Lan Zhan, we’ll stay here for a while, right? There must be lots of restless spirits.”

“There are, but not as many as we expected,” Lan Jingyi said. “We think we’ll be done here soon.”

Sizhui looked around the camp himself, and then into the woods edging the field. “Hanguang-Jun, do you mind if we go out?”

“Be back before dark,” Hanguang-Jun said. “Don’t be reckless.”

“Most importantly, don’t give Jiang Cheng reason to come after you,” Wei Wuxian told Jin Ling seriously. “You’ve been doing so well recently.”

He punctuated his warning by patting Jin Ling on the head and then dragged Hanguang-Jun off to look at the talisman barrier.

“Which way should we go?” Sizhui asked. 

“Almost everyone went into the woods today,” Lan Jingyi said. “So we should go up the road.”

He led the way, and Sizhui fell in beside Jin Ling. Fairy emerged from behind a tent, trotting along behind him, and he scratched behind his ears.

“You’ve been quiet,” Sizhui said after Lan Jingyi had finished describing how they’d raised the fence up higher after a fierce corpse had just tripped in over the first version and then gotten back up to wander into camp.

Jin Ling looked back down the road, where if he squinted, he could still see Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-Jun walking around the camp.

“I was just thinking,” he said. “It’s nothing.”

Sizhui leaned over, brushing his shoulder against Jin Ling’s in silent support.

The wind picked up, flattening out the grass and blowing dust up the road.

Lan Jingyi laughed suddenly. “Sizhui, did he tell you what he named-”

“Lan Jingyi,” Jin Ling said through clenched teeth, “You can either stop now, or start running.”

“Sizhui, save me,” Lan Jingyi wailed sarcastically, ducking behind Sizhui. “Young Mistress Jin and his Little Monster are coming for me!”

“Fairy, get him,” Jin Ling ordered and Fairy perked up. Lan Jingyi’s yelps became real as Fairy leapt at him and he was forced to dodge.

“Little Monster?” Sizhui asked as Fairy chased after Lan Jingyi.

“I know it’s a bad name,” Jin Ling admitted. 

“It could be worse,” Sizhui said charitably.

“Lan Jingyi came up with two better names without even trying,” he complained, then brightened up the next moment as Fairy pounced, pinning Lan Jingyi to the ground and shoving his nose in his face. 

“But he’s also being licked by a dog right now,” Sizhui said, too sincerely. “So maybe Little Monster isn’t so bad.”

The more he heard it said, the worse it sounded. “I’ll think of something else. It doesn’t need a name right now anyway.”

Sizhui breathed an offensively loud sigh of relief. 

“Fairy, let him up,” Jin Ling called. Fairy jumped off of Lan Jingyi and bounded over to Jin Ling proudly. Lan Jingyi was a bit slower to get up. “Should we leave you?”

Lan Jingyi wiped his face off with his sleeve and laughed despite himself. “I guess having a fat dog is good for something after all. You win this time.”

Jin Ling could be gracious in victory. He offered a hand and pulled Lan Jingyi to his feet. 

Sizhui brushed the dust off the back of Lan Jingyi’s robe. “You’re going to have to wash that,” he observed, then looked at Jin Ling. “Ready to go?”

He looked up at the mountains, familiar and not familiar at the same time, and nodded. “Let’s go.”