Chapter Text
The first time Lan Qiren meets Wen Ruohan is during training after morning classes. The new rotation of visiting disciples has no-one of particular merit, unlike last year when the elusive and powerful Baoshan-Sanren’s disciple, Cangse-Sanren had visited, along with the young masters of the Jin and Jiang Sects. Most of the visiting disciples were anywhere from fourteen to fifteen years old, and so Lan Qiren was older than most of them – serving as an assistant to the teacher in the class.
There is something calming about knowing exactly what one must do, and what consequences one has for one’s actions – bad or good. That is why Lan Qiren enjoys the simplicity and usefulness of the rules of his Gusu Lan Sect. There is some of the same calm in sword training. Repeating the same movements until they are as fluid and strong as the rivers and waterfalls coursing through the mountains of his home.
Though diligent cultivation, Lan Qiren has advanced quite well, though there are plenty of those far more excellent and powerful in their spiritual energy, with far larger golden cores. But his swordsmanship has always been something admired by most, yet Lan Qiren has always known he has room for improvement.
Lan Qiren fluidly finishes the sword form, and lands precisely on the same tile of the courtyard that he started on, flicking out his sleeves and sheathing his sword.
He senses more than sees a sharp movement and a burst of qi-
With a whirl of robes, he moves aside, and catches the wrist holding the sword aimed at him – Lan Qiren’s own hand going to his sword and unsheathing it halfway.
The person’s technique is lacking – brute force that would have suited a Nie Sect saber rather than a regular sword, Lan Qiren notices. The raw power behind the strike, however, is a little bit impressive.
The youth who’d attacked him is about the same age as him. He looks over at Lan Qiren and grins. “Huh. Not bad, for a self-righteous mountain scholar!” he says. “My father said that secluding oneself from the world is a sure way to get weak, but looking at you, I suppose that’s not true!”
Lan Qiren immediately dislikes this person. While he has good looks, a good posture, and what seems to be an immensely powerful cultivation base – the expression on that face is insufferable. A superior smirk, eyes that glint with too much amusement – and something about the way the corners of those phoenix eyes turn up when he smiles more widely under Lan Qiren’s sharp scrutiny makes that feeling of disliking even stronger, to the point where Lan Qiren’s heart almost skips a beat from pure rage, and his face reddens.
His lips thin and he gives nothing but icy silence in answer, not removing the hand around the other youth’s wrist.
“What’s the matter? Never seen a handsome cultivator before?” the youth asks. “It’s surprising – since you’re from the Lan Clan, and you’re all very pretty here.”
Lan Qiren immediately lets him go and takes a step back, trying not to let disgust show on his face. “Do not fight without permission. Personal duels are forbidden within the Cloud Recesses,” he recites the rules coldly, sheathing his sword back with a sharp sound. He recognizes the flame-like motif on the sleeves of the young man’s over-robe as that of the Qishan Wen Sect.
“Ah, as soon as you opened your mouth, I got bored…” infuriatingly sighs the youth, sheathing his sword also, and folding his hands behind his back. “I just wanted to spar. What, don’t tell me – is sparring forbidden too?”
“Sparring, within reason, is not forbidden. Attacking suddenly, without notice, is not reasonable – therefore against the rules,” Lan Qiren gives the youth his best withering stare and flicks out his sleeves. “May I know the young master’s name?”
The youth grins. “My name is Wen Yi, like a blazing fire; courtesy name Ruohan. And don’t forget it.” He doesn’t even bow. “I think we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, from now on.”
If Lan Qiren’s memory is correct, this is the reclusive sixteen-year-old heir to the Qishan Wen Sect, placed fourth on the ranking of young masters in the cultivation world. Who was doing the rankings for that?! How could they even give him a placement?! He’s good-looking, with high cultivation – and that’s it! No manners! Lacking in virtue! mentally rages Lan Qiren.
“I should hope not.” Lan Qiren offers an infinitesimally minor inclination of the head and a brief clasping of his hands out in front of himself in an imitation of a bow – feeling terribly superior over Wen Ruohan for even tangentially observing rules of courtesy. “Lan Yun. Courtesy name Qiren.”
“Lan Yun,” repeats Wen Ruohan. “So… Like clouds? How suitable for where you live.” That insufferable smirk is back. “You have any cute nicknames?”
“Like ‘sunlight’,” corrects Lan Qiren, trying not to let his annoyance show, though if he could, just the look in his eyes towards Wen Ruohan would strangle the other youth. His cheeks flare with heat, from anger. “Wen-gongzi should attempt to behave more in line with common courtesy. We are not so well acquainted for diminutives.” Nor will we ever be, if I have anything to say about it!
Wen Ruohan laughs. “You’re too stiff, Lan-er-gongzi. What’s with you? You must be my age at least, and yet you’re acting and talking like an old man!”
“I am sixteen this year,” Lan Qiren says, a little wounded. He straightens his back even further and looks down his nose at Wen Ruohan. “If Wen-gongzi will excuse me, I must be going. There are matters to attend to.” The matters being his midday meal, but Wen Ruohan doesn’t need to know that. Another infinitesimal bow, and he is turning his back and flicking his sleeves out with more force than necessary.
“I’ll spar with you some other time, then!” Wen Ruohan calls after him.
Lan Qiren turns back, a vein throbbing in the side of his head from pure rage. “Raised voices are forbidden in the Cloud Recesses!” he snaps.
Wen Ruohan only laughs.
Do not laugh for no reason! Lan Qiren is so angry that he almost breaks the rule of, ‘Do not walk too fast’, in order to leave the undesirable company of this Wen Ruohan. But before he does so, he casts a silencing spell – and Wen Ruohan’s peals of laughter that sound too much like flecks of warm sunshine through the trees, turns into indecipherable grunting.