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Chapter Text

Cangse Sanren. Thrice damned, thrice blessed Cangse Sanren.  

Yu Ziyuan had never hated and admired another woman so much.

Cangse Sanren. 

Everyone knew her story, it had been told over and over throughout the years. Even the youngest of children knew who Cangse Sanren was. The child who had been lost by an Emperor of the mortal realm to the Immortal Baoshan Sanren. 

No one knew (except for that damned Cangse Sanren) why the Immortal Baoshan Sanren had agreed to the Emperor’s wager. Some said it was the passing whim of an Immortal. Some insisted that the Immortal Baoshan Sanren had truly loved the Emperor — but if she did, then why—

The story began the same way all the beautiful and tragic tales began. A chance meeting between two people who were beloved by fate and destiny. One of them a young Emperor, a few years enthroned and on a hunting trip. The other an Immortal descending from her celestial mountain. 

It began as a story of love. The young Emperor brought her back to his palace and showered her with riches. The Immortal was listless as if she were a powerless bird trapped in a cage. And the young Emperor knew that she would soon leave. 

For many nights he sighed and planned and searched for something that would keep his beloved Immortal by his side. He was no cultivator, he had no Golden Core. Although the Son of Heaven, he was not ageless. 

His palaces and treasures meant nothing to her. His titles and lands were meaningless. She was an Immortal, a being who had transcended the mortal plane of existence and was no longer troubled by trivial things. There was nothing that would keep her bound to him. 

Most of the stories had said that there was a grand marriage, that all of the great nobles and all of the Sect Leaders had come to the wedding. It was a lie. There had simply been a red ribbon. Baoshan Sanren had taken one of the Emperor’s hair ribbons and wrapped it around their wrists as she pressed a kiss to his lips. The crimson ribbon that she never removed from her wrist, much like the Lan and their pale forehead ribbons. 

Perhaps she had already bound herself to him and the Emperor had not yet realized? There was more to a crimson ribbon than simply being an ornament. Yet, he fretted and schemed and plotted to no avail.

And then, one day, the physicians brought him news that the Immortal Baoshan Sanren was with child. His child. 

The solution was presented to him on a silver platter. 

“Baoshan, my beloved, my silver moon, our son will rule both Heaven and Earth. The mortal realm and the realm of cultivators.” The young Emperor was convinced that she would bear him a son. “Nothing will stand in his way as he conquers all that there is.”

Folly. It was the folly of man.

The Immortal Baoshan Sanren simply looked at him from where she sat, silver eyes gleaming. Sunlight streamed in from the window behind her. She was as pale as a moon in winter. Of all the priceless ornaments and beautiful things she had been given, she eschewed them all in favor of delicate silver and pale robes.

“And what if the child in my womb is a girl?” Curiosity lurked in the silver eyes, both terrible and tantalizing. “Will she rule both Heaven and Earth?”

The Emperor and his physicians were too arrogant to consider anything else, to accept any other option. The Heavens had sent an Immortal to be the Emperor’s consort. It would be blasphemous to consider anything but a son would come from her womb. 

At long last, the Emperor had laughingly said, “if the child from your womb is a daughter, you may do with her as you please.” 

To which the Immortal Consort replied, “if I bear a daughter, she shall be my heir and both of us shall return to the mountains.”

No one believed the Immortal Consort would bear anything other than a son. The Great Clans — Wen, Lan, Jin, Nie, Jiang — had all sent their best physicians to watch over the pregnancy. Everyone whispered and schemed and dreamed; who was to believe such an impossible thing was truly happening? The Imperial Family would have the blood of an Immortal cultivator. Would they now meddle in the matters of cultivators?

Scryers, seers, and diviners all spoke of a prophecy: a prince bearing the blood of the Immortal Consort Baoshan Sanren would shake the very foundation of the world. 

And yet, when the time came, there was no prince. Only a princess with hair as black as her father’s and eyes as silver as her mother’s. A princess whose name was lost to time, if she had even been given one, and all anyone had to know her by was a title. 

The Immortal Consort stayed for three nights. 

Three nights in which the Emperor pleaded. 

Three nights in which the Emperor bargained. 

Three nights in which the Emperor begged. 

She did not stay the fourth night. Baoshan Sanren disappeared with her daughter, returning to her celestial mountain and not a word was heard from her since. No son had been born from the melding of their blood, no son who would inherit the Emperor’s throne and shake the world itself. There was nothing left between the Emperor and the Immortal, the only shred of proof was their child. A child who was now hidden away on a mountain where only, perhaps, the gods themselves could find. 

There was little hope of finding Baoshan Sanren if she did not want anyone to find her. And the Emperor did search, until his dying day. Even cultivators searched for the celestial mountain that was the home of Baoshan Sanren and her disciples. He searched for his love — the one he had driven away with his own greed — and the child he never had a chance to know. The cultivators searched for their own reasons, some for fame and fortune. Some wished to reunite a broken family. Some sought the knowledge of an Immortal such as Baoshan Sanren.

Decades passed, long years which seemed to flow like honey in winter. It was as if Baoshan Sanren and the child had faded into myth. No one thought either of them would reappear. What use would an Immortal have of the mortal realm after mortals had proven themselves too greedy? Baoshan Sanren had decided, it seemed, that the mortal realm was undeserving of her child.

And yet, one day, a young woman appeared at the gates of Cloud Recesses asking to be a student. A silver eyed woman dressed in white, save for the red ribbon tied in her long hair. A woman who bore two tokens on her belt but no sigil that marked her as belonging to a clan of cultivators. One that designated her as a Princess of the First Rank and one as a Prince of the First Rank.

Cangse Sanren, the daughter of the Immortal Consort Baoshan Sanren and a long dead Emperor. 

Everyone loved her, she was like the sun. Brilliant and beautiful and deadly. 

She was one of the most promising cultivators of their age. Her brilliance and power were second to none, nor could her kindness and compassion be forgotten. A kindness that could only come from someone who didn’t know anything of the world. Someone who didn’t know or understand of the cruelty that lived in the world.

For what sort of imperial princess would run away with the son of a servant? Only Cangse Sanren would. 

Yu Ziyuan had done her best to shove the woman into the back of her mind. It worked, for a time. She would only hear the woman’s names once every so often, but she never had to face her. Not even when the woman had given birth to Wei Changze’s son. She thought she was free of the curse that was Cangse Sanren.

And now, here she was, looking up at a statue of that very same woman while carrying the damned woman’s sleeping son in her arms and thousands of not-memories swirled in her head. 

Truly, she didn’t know how she’d managed to get caught up in another one of Cangse Sanren’s messes even when the woman was long dead. 

It had all been supposed to be a simple night hunt. 

A disciple had passed through one of the villages close to the Yiling Burial Mounds and noticed something strange. The village had once been plagued by fierce corpses and water ghouls, so close to the Burial Mounds as it was but something had caused a great change. Not a single dreg of resentful energy could be found anywhere near the village, and when the disciple had begun to investigate, the villagers had said it was the work of the Hidden Lady.

In hindsight, when the report had reached her at Lotus Pier, Yu Ziyuan should have known the Hidden Lady was Cangse Sanren. Or rather, what was left of Cangse Sanren. 

What was left of Cangse Sanren was a statue riddled with so much spiritual energy that it was the only obvious answer for why the resentful energy had been driven away. The statue itself was beautiful, even without the glimmering and golden radiance that surrounded it — her —. It was carved out of a pristine white stone, at first she thought it was marble, but as soon as her fingers touched the statue, she knew it was jade. It couldn’t have been carved, there were no seams. Nothing that suggested a mortal hand had touched it. 

Not to mention, the entrance to the cave was barely large enough for an adult to enter. How would someone have maneuvered the statue into the deepest recesses of the cave without damaging it? No, this was something Cangse Sanren had done. Even if Yu Ziyuan didn’t know how she knew this was the work of that blasted woman. 

There was a movement in the shadows and, for a moment, she thought she saw her A-Cheng. But, no. The eyes were wrong. This wasn’t her A-Cheng. 

It was a trick of the light, A-Cheng is at Lotus Pier with his nursemaids. Yu Ziyuan shook her head as she stepped away from the statue of, or the statue that was, Cangse Sanren, and moved toward the flickering shadows. There was a little boy, close in age to her A-Cheng, maybe five or six. He was unmoving and didn’t seem to notice her presence. 

Yu Ziyuan wasn’t sure how the child had been missed when the cave had first been swept by her disciples, but she was under the impression that not all was what it seemed in the cave. The only thing she was certain of was what Cangse Sanren was dead, Wei Changze was dead (his sword had been found marking a shallow grave near the statue), and this had to be their child. Wei Ying. 

There was no danger from this child. 

“Wei Ying,” Yu Ziyuan spoke as she crouched in front of the sitting child, “can you stand?’ 

There was no response. It was as if the child was catatonic. How long had he been in the cave? Her lips quirked downwards in disapproval as she barked a quiet order at one of the disciples for them to bring some water and hot food. Something to tempt the child into full wakefulness. If she didn’t know any better, she would have said the child was meditating. 

Yu Ziyuan studied the child, his silver eyes were hazy and unfocused but he didn’t seem to have been starving. As if something was keeping him alive, for all she knew, perhaps there was. He carried the blood of an Immortal in his veins, after all, there was no telling what he would be capable of. 

“A-Ying,” she tried once more to garner his attention with softer words, “can you look at me?” 

She reached out a hand to move his hair from his face and the moment her fingers brushed against his cold flesh, everything went red. 

Lotus Pier burned.

Zidian. Against the skin of a child. Screams.

Barking dogs. Biting. Biting. Pain. 

Swords. Rabbits in a clearing. Cold water.

A ribbon. White and pure. 

Blood. Falling. Falling. 

Of dying. Of death. Of living. Of dying again. 

Resentment. Swirling and putrid and not yet dead and knowing. 

Mine. Mine. MINE! 

Her hands shook as her mind returned to the cave. Everything was...blurry. Fuzzy, as if she had been drinking liquor for days on end. As if she had not taken a sip of water and she was...dying? No, she hadn’t died yet. Yu Ziyuan brought her hand to her forehead as she closed her eyes. What she had seen, what she had felt, it was...she wasn’t sure what it was. If it was a vision meant to torment her or a glimpse into a future that would, no, a future that she would prevent from occurring if it was true. 

She could hear quiet sniffling. Someone was crying. Who? Why? 

A-Ying. 

“I’ll be good, I promise.” The boy repeated the words over and over to himself, his face wet with tears.

Yu Ziyuan didn’t hesitate in bringing the boy into her arms. The image of A-Ying falling to his death twice was fresh in her mind. Of bones breaking and blood seeping and his very soul crying out. She had seen his silver eyes light up with amusement and happiness, only to fall dark and empty before crimson overtook silver.

“You’re safe, A-Ying.” She stood carefully, arms wrapped protectively around the boy who had given up everything. “You don’t have to worry, I’ll take care of you. I’ll take you back to Lotus Pier.”

A wave of guilt flooded through her even as she shook it away. She was not the Yu Ziyuan in that vision. A-Ying would never fear Zidian. He would never fear her hand. She would make sure of it.

“Can’t go back,” A-Ying protested, a brokenness in his voice even as his silver eyes slid shut, “it’s all my fault. Everything. Everything dies because of me.”

“No, it’s not your fault.” Yu Ziyuan pressed him tighter to her chest as if trying to protect him from every single cruelty she had seen. “You did everything you could. It was not your fault.” 

His quiet sobs into her silk robes stilled and she felt, rather than saw him, fall asleep. A frown flitted across her face, she hadn’t noticed at first, preoccupied with his tears as she was, but he weighed far less than A-Cheng. How malnourished was he? How long had he been in the cave? Did he carry any injuries from the not-future? His— no, she wasn’t going to pass judgment on the existence of his Golden Core. She’d wait till they returned to the palace in Lotus Pier, there, she’d have a physician she trusted to examine him. 

It was a future that was no longer going to come, so he shouldn’t be lacking a Golden Core. He should be fine. But from the...from what she had seen, she knew he lived up to the Jiang motto. He did the impossible.

No, A-Ying was the impossible.

Yu ZIyuan turned in a flurry of violet silk to glare at the statue of Cangse Sanren. That was a mystery she would have to solve another day. A-Ying’s safety took precedence.

“I’ll be back.” Her voice was haughty as she spoke, not expecting anything in return. “And I will find out whatever mess this is that you’ve created.”

Perhaps this wasn’t Cangse Sanren’s fault, but it felt natural to blame her. It helped to center her as she walked out of the cave with A-Ying. Blaming Cangse Sanren for something as impossible and improbable as this was the only way she knew how to keep her sanity at the moment. Somehow, Cangse Sanren was at fault. Yes, it was Cangse Sanren’s fault because she and that husband of hers decided to live on the road. Rather than at one of the palaces the Imperial Court had been too quick to give the Immortal Princess. Or even anywhere in Yunmeng.

If they hadn’t lived on the road, Yu Ziyuan wouldn’t have these not-memories of Lotus Pier burning and her son — her sons — being tortured by the Wens. The Jins. She brought a hand up to her forehead as she winced, a building pressure was threatening to turn into a migraine. How was she to keep the not-memories of multiple lifetimes in order?

It was bad enough that A-Ying remembered. The mind of a child was in no way prepared for the horrors that Wei Wuxian had lived. If she ever came face to face with whatever entity had decided to shove those not-memories into his head, she would put the fear of Zidian into them and show exactly why she bore the title of Violet Spider. 

The sheer maternal possessiveness that coursed through her body startled her. 

Once outside the cave, she barked a quiet order at the waiting disciples for them to seal up the cave. Yu Ziyuan paused as she was about to step onto her sword.

“Wei Changze’s sword. Bring it.” With those orders given, she adjusted her hold on A-Ying and flew in the direction of Lotus Pier.

The flight was simultaneously too long and too short. Her mind had been swirling with thoughts and plans, each one discarded when she came across a facet that displeased her. Yu Ziyuan had decided not to focus on the possible motivations for the not-her in the not-memories and how she had treated A-Ying. 

She knew better. 

As it was, there was already one advantage as to how things had changed. It wasn’t her husband bringing A-Ying. No, it was her. The lady of Yungmeng Jiang. Her lips curled into a predatory smile as she kept one hand on the back of A-Ying’s head, keeping him close to her chest so the wind didn’t wake him. 

There would be no rumors about A-Ying being a bastard of her husband, not if she was the one to bring him home. And, besides, she knew the truth. A-Ying was the child of Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze. But, now he would be her child as well. It was…

Duty? Responsibility?

No, it was simply what was right. He was a child in need of a home and she could provide that. She was, perhaps, the only person in the world capable of understanding what he needed. What he deserved.

A-Ying would grow up with A-Cheng and A-Li. There would be no jealousy or hatred between the three of them and she would treat them equally. She would make sure A-Ying was raised alongside A-Cheng, not as Sect Heir to Yunmeng Jiang but as an heir to the Immortal Baoshan Sanren. The lowly birth of his father did nothing to change the fact that the blood of the emperors ran through A-Ying’s veins. The tokens….

Damn it all! Yu Ziyuan closed her eyes for a moment as she bit back a scowl. She had forgotten to check if Cangse Sanren’s tokens were in the cave. No matter, the disciples would be sure to bring anything they had found and if not, there was still her next visit. She would make sure that they would be found, even if she had to have the entire cave dug out and the statue brought to Yunmeng. The tokens would go a long way in protecting A-Ying, even if they were dangerous in and of themselves.

Still, the fire was sometimes the safest place to be.

A small whimper came from the child in her arms and she glanced down at him. A-Ying was still sleeping, his eyes firmly shut, the tears had slowed to a stop earlier and she couldn’t see anything that could be harming him. Her purple eyes narrowed slightly as she considered the possibility of a nightmare. Was he being tormented by the weight of the not-memories?

The scowl she had been biting back firmly settled into place on her face. There was nothing she could do to help him, other than reaching Lotus Pier faster. Yu Ziyuan poured more spiritual energy into her sword as the landscapes of Yunmeng sped past them. 

Gusu Lan. 

Perhaps their healing arts could…

Her brow furrowed as she considered the thought of any Lan taking a single step near her son in the state that he was. Son? When did I begin to think of him as my son? Yu Ziyuan shook that thought away, it wasn’t pertinent. She would deal with it later and she had the niggling suspicion that it had something to do with Cangse Sanren. 

The not-memories weren’t easy to understand, from what she had been able to comprehend, the Lan were both dangerous and safe for A-Ying. They had been among those to repudiate him, no, what was she thinking? A bitter smile took the place of her scowl. Everyone had repudiated him. Even when he was the sole reason that so many lives were saved.

He had been the only one with his eyes unclouded. What was a righteous path and what was a crooked path if one killed innocents and another killed to protect innocents?

Come back to Gusu. 

A not-memory of amber eyes gave Yu Ziyuan pause. There was the sound of a seven stringed quqin before the strings snapped. It had been one of the Gusu Lan who had tried to save A-Ying from the cliff. His eyes when A-Ying had fallen...

“You little fools,” she sighed to herself, knowing that the wind did not care and A-Ying would not hear, “repeating the mistakes of your elders.”

Chapter Text

A sprawling lake, more than a hundred miles wide and full of pink lotuses, came into view. The surface of the water was peaceful, gentle ripples danced across the crystal clear water. Even the deepest depths were visible. The water of Lotus Pier was perhaps the purest of all, save from the waters that could be found within the homes of Immortals. Still, the lakes and rivers of Yunmeng were unrivaled. And of all the lakes and rivers within the Yunmeng territory, the lake upon which Lotus Pier was built was the most beloved. 

Unlike the palaces and residences of the other great clans, the ancestral home of the Jiang did not bear a boundary line that forced away commoners. Perhaps it was influenced by the clan’s founder, Jiang Chi, who was once a rogue cultivator. Honesty and freedom were valued above all. 

The same freedom that one could find on the surface of a lake or a river. No one could stop the course of a river for eternity. Water always found a way. It was capable of wearing down even the strongest of stones over time. 

It accomplished the impossible. 

Perhaps that was why the gates of the palace were always open. Why a bustling city had sprung up around the palace and the training grounds of the Jiang. Why the children of commoners and non-cultivators weren’t turned away from becoming disciples.

If there was talent or if there was a will, they wouldn’t be disparaged. 

Yu Ziyuan had always thought that was why the Jiang had always gotten along with the Lan and Nie. Although the Lan were the most ascetic of all the clans and cherished 2,997 more rules than the Jiang ever would, they shared a sense of serenity. Of flowing through the world. If the Jiang were water, then the Lan were air. The thought of the Nie always made Yu Ziyuan’s lips twitch in amusement. To her, they had always embodied fire more than the Wen ever would. They were wild and free. 

“We’re almost home, A-Ying.” She whispered to the sleeping child in her arms. “You’ll soon see your A-Li and your A-Cheng and—”

Father hung in her throat. The word stuck thickly as it attempted to claw its way upwards. 

Father. 

The not-her in the not-memories had believed A-Ying was her husband’s bastard child. And she had treated him cruelly for it. Even if he had been her husband’s ill-gotten son, the child bore no sins of the father. The not-memories had taught her well of that fact. 

Still, it was difficult for her to say the word. While her very being had been bombarded with decades of knowledge and realizations, only a few hours had passed for her since she had first entered the cave. Time had stopped and then fast-forwarded only to suddenly rewind itself and drop her back at the starting point. 

Yu Ziyuan had been running since then. She hadn’t taken much time to truly think about what she had seen — the implications, the possibilities. All she had focused on was what she needed to do first. 

A-Ying deserved to grow up surrounded by a family who loved him. He didn’t deserve to grow with the sense of self-hatred, self-doubt, and fear that he did. It was why it had been such a simple choice for Wei Wuxian to throw himself away. What Wei Wuxian had seen himself as was the fault of all the adults who had failed him. 

She had failed him. As had Jiang Fengmian. As had all of them.

“And your Father will be so happy to see you.” Yu Ziyuan was nothing if not stubborn. She was not the Yu Ziyuan in the not-memories. Bitterness toward a child would not be her failing in this lifetime. “You are a lucky child, A-Ying. You will have two fathers and two mothers. You shall not be allowed to be alone and believe yourself unloved. A-Ying, you will be one of the Young Masters of the Jiang. Gusu will have their Twin Jades, but Yunmeng? You and A-Cheng will be our Twin Lotuses.” 

Yes, Yu Ziyuan thought to herself as she began the careful descent to one of the main docks of Lotus Pier, being our Twin Lotuses is much more fitting than that silly title you and A-Cheng called yourselves. Anyone can be a hero, but not anyone can be a Lotus.

There was no movement from the sleeping child in her arms, but Yu Ziyuan thought she had felt A-Ying soften slightly in her arms. As if an invisible worry had slipped off his shoulders. It was possible, after all, Lotus Pier had always been his beloved home in all of the memories of Wei Wuxian that she had seen. He had always yearned for Lotus Pier, even when he lay broken in the Burial Mounds.

Yu Ziyuan took a step towards the open doors of the palace, ignoring the whispers of the shopkeepers and their patrons as they stared at her with wide eyes. Or rather, stared at the child in her arms. No fear lurked within the crowd, but rather curiosity. To their eyes, the child seemed healthy and safe. It was simply the strangest of things for them to see, their proud and haughty Madam Yu carrying a strange child. 

“Madam,” a servant made his way toward her and greeted her even as his eyes were on A-Ying, “how may this one be of assistance?”

“Send a messenger immediately to Gusu requesting one of their best healers.” Yu Ziyuan continued to walk toward the gates and the purple-clad servant followed her. As she crossed the threshold, she decided to continue in the direction of the inner palace. She didn’t want A-Ying to be sleeping alone in the infirmary and surrounded by people he didn’t know. “Someone who can play the Song of Cleansing.”

“Ah, Madam,” the servant spoke as he followed her still, “Lord Jiang has sent word that Acting Sect Leader Lan is accompanying him.” 

Yu Ziyuan’s mind was blank for the merest of moments as she tried to remember what exactly her husband was even meant to be doing that he had run into Lan Qiren whilst doing so. Had he gone off to fix the hairpin that had been broken? No, no that hadn’t happened yet. He hadn’t even gifted the hairpin to her. It couldn’t have been him searching for Cangse Sanren, he hadn’t found A-Ying in Yiling until years later. Perhaps he was shopping for the hairpin? But she couldn’t find the exact point in the not-memories when he had given it to her in the first place. 

As soon as A-Ying was taken care of she’d have to sit and sort through all of that. The throbbing pressure that had disappeared during the flight was slowly making its way back. It would be dangerous if this continued to happen whenever she thought on the not-memories.

“How fortuitous,” she finally said as they walked through one of the training courtyards. “Have them both sent to me the moment they arrive.” 

“Madam, shall I take that child?” The servant’s eyes lingered on the dirt-stained robes A-Ying wore before they flickered to the training disciples watching the strange trio out of the corner of their eyes.

“No, I will carry my son.” The expression on her face was thunderous as she pressed A-Ying tighter to her chest and a lightning bolt of possessiveness coursed through her. Jinzhu and Yinzhu, her twin maids, would never have dared to say such a thing. Even if they had never seen A-Ying before, they would have been able to understand her perfectly without a single word falling from Yu Ziyuan’s lips. She regretted, for a moment, having sent them to accompany her A-Li to Meishan Yu. 

“Of course, Madam.” While shock had made the servant’s face slack, he had recovered quickly before he bowed and left her presence. 

Yu Ziyuan’s eldest child was away, her darling Yanli, her gentle A-Li. She had never thought of her weak daughter to have been particularly brave, but the courage it took to run out onto a battlefield to defend her brother...A-Li only had enough strength to fly through the skies, she didn’t have enough to wield a sword in battle. The marriage to Jin Zixuan was meant to have placed her in the safest position, not for her to become a trampled lotus.

Jiang Yanli, her delicate child who had always been sweet smiles. She had been smiling even at the moment of her death. 

What kind of dishonorable bastard struck at a weaponless woman? Yu Ziyuan ignored the fact that the blow had been intended for Wei Wuxian and that her only daughter had blocked it. Only someone without honor would have struck at such a moment. Heat coiled in her heart as her face continued to darken. 

Nothing that had happened that day in the not-future had been honorable. The Great Clans had dishonored themselves with their actions and their blindness. 

She would whip them all with Zidian until they bled on the ground before her. Until they all felt the pain and horror that A-Li, A-Cheng, and A-Ying had been forced through. They had whispered lies into the ears of her children and turned them against one another. They had forced A-Cheng to cast out his own brother from the Yunmeng Jiang Sect.

On her hand, Zidian crackled. 

A-Ying whimpered and resentful energy curled in protective waves around him. 

Yu Ziyuan took a deep breath to calm the seething anger that had begun to rise in her chest. This wasn’t the time for anger. Yanli was alive and safe in Meishan Yu. She would send some disciples to bring her daughter back quickly. There were more important things that her daughter was meant to be doing. 

“It’s alright, A-Ying,” Yu Ziyuan spoke softly as she pressed a gentle kiss to the side of A-Ying’s head. Zidian’s purple light had long receded and disappeared. “Mother wasn’t angry at you. You’ve done nothing wrong.” 

The resentful energy slowly dissipated with each soft word that fell from her lips. A-Ying calmed even further in her arms, but the memory of green flames and poisonous resentment lingered in her mind. It seemed A-Ying had not lost his Demonic Cultivation. Thankfully, they had been out of sight when the resentful energy had risen in the air. If any of the disciples or servants had seen it, she would have had no answers, no explanations for what had happened.

She continued walking down the open corridors with an ironclad determination as she came closer and closer to the inner palace. Never had she been so grateful that her husband’s ancestors had never separated the family residence. There were no Women’s Quarters. Although sharing an apartment of rooms with her husband had been awkward at times with their strained relationship, it meant she was close to her children. And there were plenty of unused rooms in the family residence. 

Yu Ziyuan was grateful, at that moment, that the Jiang Fengmian of the not-memories had given A-Ying the room closest to A-Cheng. A room fit for a Young Master of one of the Great Clans. That had irked the not-her and added fuel to the rumors, but she didn’t care. It would serve as a familiar reassurance to A-Ying.

And she was right to think that, with every step that she had taken in the direction of the room, A-Ying seemed to relax even further. If he continued in that manner, she wondered if his bones would become soft like pudding.

When Yu Ziyuan entered the apartment of rooms that was A-Ying’s, an electric shock coursed through her body. It was strange to see it pristine and lacking A-Ying’s controlled chaos, the stack of papers and books he would always have throughout the rooms. Formations, talismans, theories, and ideas. Just as soon as the shock had run through her, did the room seem to take a breath of relief. Warmth filled the rooms, golden and silver, and perfect. 

“Welcome home, A-Ying.” The words finally felt right as she placed him on the bed.

She sat on the bed next to him, one hand brushing away strands of dark hair from A-Ying’s face. He truly looked angelic while he slept, as most children did. But here, in his once and future bed, he looked to be at peace. Yu Ziyuan hummed aimlessly as she traced a sigil on his robes and poured a tiny bit of spiritual energy into them. She had guessed they had spells woven into them but hadn’t taken the time to study them earlier.

As the dirt disappeared from the fabric, she was happy that Cangse Sanren could at least do one thing right. 

As she sat there, gently brushing A-Ying’s hair and taking a moment to simply breathe and not plot, she heard the doors open. Two pairs of footsteps stopped in the antechamber. More servants had seen her once she had entered the inner palace, but she was surprised that A-Cheng had come so quickly. He was meant to be in his lessons still. But, she couldn’t find it in herself to lecture him. Not like she used to. 

Her beautiful little boy, no, her beautiful youngest child, quietly walked toward the bed. He was intent on making no noise as he snuck up on her, but there was a little gasp of air as her A-Cheng saw that there was a child on the bed. His storm grey eyes glanced up at her, a question was clearly written across his face. 

“A-Ying is your new brother.” Yu Ziyuan motioned for A-Cheng to move closer to her. “Do you want to see him?”

A-Cheng scrambled towards her, a mess of limbs as he climbed up on the bed. Dried ink was splotched across his fingers. Yu Ziyuan reached out and pressed her free hand to A-Cheng’s rosy cheek as she smiled at him. Her eyes were cloudy as an image of a much older A-Cheng hovered in front of her youngest child. He was laughing brightly as the sun shone behind him.

“I’m a big brother?” A-Cheng chirped in confusion at her before he seemed to settle it with childish logic. He puffed his chest out as he smiled brightly. “I’ll take care of him, I promise Mama!” 

Yu Ziyuan let her hand fall away from A-Cheng’s cheek as he seemed focused on petting A-Ying’s hair in the same way she had been. It warmed her heart to see him already so intent on being a good brother to A-Ying and how easily he opened his heart. Like it was something as natural to him as breathing. Even in the not-memories of the not-future, they were inseparable, why should it be any different now?

“That’s a very important promise, A-Cheng.” She spoke softly as she watched the two brothers bond. “Brothers should always protect each other. One day, the two of you will grow big and strong. You’ll stand tall amongst all the other cultivators and everyone will know your names. You will be the Twin Lotuses of Yunmeng.” 

While Yu Ziyuan spoke, she could see the future forming in front of her eyes. A-Cheng and A-Ying both dressed in perfect robes of purple as they fought side by side and broke every preconceived notion. As they all achieved the impossible together.

“Really?” A-Cheng tilted his head, his storm grey eyes wide as he stared at his mother. The little boy didn’t think his mother was lying, his mother never lied. If she said something, then it was true. 

So with all of his childish heart, he believed her.

“Of course.” Yu Ziyuan paused as she remembered something. “But, he is your big brother. A-Ying is older than you by five days.” 

“But Mama, if he’s the same age, why wasn’t he here before?” A-Cheng frowned as he glanced down at the bed. He didn’t understand why he had been denied his brother for so long. 

“Because I was growing him in a cave.” Yu Ziyuan didn’t know what had possessed her to say such a thing but, it was better than telling him A-Ying had been in a cave with his dead birth parents.

Maybe Cangse Sanren had done something to her while she was in that cave?

“A cave?” Somehow, A-Cheng’s eyes had gotten even wider as he glanced between his mother and his new brother.

“That’s why he’s sleeping.” She had made her bed, so now she had to lie in it. “Lotuses need the sun to be healthy, but I had to keep him hidden in a cave.” 

Yet, it didn’t feel like a complete lie. A-Ying had been hidden away in a cave instead of living on the streets in Yiling. Someone, or something, had ensured his safety. She hadn’t the slightest inkling of how or why.

“Is Gege safe now?” There was a worried lilt to A-Cheng’s voice as he glanced down at his brother. His small hand tightened around A-Ying’s even smaller hand.

Yu Ziyuan nearly missed the coil of energy that wrapped itself around both of their hands before it faded into their flesh. They had been silver and gold, and black threads. A-Cheng didn’t notice it and A-Ying remained sleeping and...she hadn’t been frightened. That had been resentful energy rearing it’s head once more, but it hadn’t been dangerous. Rather, the whole room seemed to have rung with happiness and comfort.

“It’s safer for A-Ying to be with us now.” She reassured her youngest son as her mind mulled over what had just happened. 

Unfortunately, A-Cheng and his curious mind didn’t seem willing to give her much time to consider it.

“When will Gege wake up?” A-Cheng tugged on her robes as his face fell into a worried frown again.

“When he’s ready.” A smile twitched on Yu Ziyuan’s face as she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to A-Cheng’s forehead. “You’ll see your brother soon.”

The short peace in the bedroom was broken when there was a flurry of sound and hurried footsteps in the ante-chamber. Yu Ziyuan drew in a deep breath as she knew what was coming.

“Madam, Lord Jiang has arrived with Lord Lan.” A-Cheng’s nursemaid, Xiao Lei, entered the bedroom from where she had been waiting in the ante-chamber. Although her gaze was demure, her brown eyes still darted curiously at the sleeping A-Ying. “Shall I take the Young Master?”

Yu Ziyuan nodded as she helped A-Cheng off the bed and nudged him in Xiao Lei’s direction. She watched as the young nursemaid easily carried A-Cheng in her arms while he began to chatter excitedly about his new brother. A smile slid on her face as she listened, waiting until they had disappeared through one of the side entrances and she could no longer hear A-Cheng’s voice. 

Then she entered the ante-chamber where two Sect Leaders were waiting for her.

One was dressed in nothing but white and with a ridiculous goatee in an attempt to look older than he was.

“Madam Yu.” Lan Qiren bowed in greeting towards her, elegant and poised and perfectly detached. “If you’ll excuse me, I shall begin playing.”

Yu Ziyuan was grateful that Lan Qiren had no questions and if he did, that he kept them to himself. This wasn’t a moment where she could leisurely spend her time explaining (or rather creating a story) to Lan Qiren exactly what had happened and why a child of barely six years of age needed the Song of Cleansing played for him.

As it was, she was left alone with her husband in the ante-chamber. The conversation that would ensue was sure to be...uncomfortable. 

The silence grew between the two even as the sound of the guqin hung in the air. Lan Qiren had begun to play the Song of Cleansing. An aura of peace emanated from the bedroom and flowed into the antechamber. Yu Ziyuan could sense it flowing throughout the rest of the rooms, a gentle and loving touch that reminded her of snowfall in spring.

“Thank you.” Jiang Fengmian’s words were laden with heavy emotion as he bowed deeply in front of her, his silver eyes hidden from her. “For having...Wei Changze’s sword brought back.” 

“You said he was your dearest friend.” Yu Ziyuan sat down on the ornate couch and studied the carvings of the wooden railing closest to her. Somehow, she felt out of place. Off-kilter. She didn’t know what to expect from her husband. What he would think of her. “I didn’t feel it right to move him from beside her statue, but a piece of him deserved to be brought back to his home.” 

Wei Changze was still a son of Yunmeng. He belonged to the rivers and lakes, a part of him should be brought back. A-Ying deserved to have something of his birth parents, not just memories. He would have more this time around. Things had already changed. They weren’t like the not-memories she had seen. 

“Is that why you brought A-Ying?” His voice was soft and there was no judgement. Only curiosity and the rustling of silk. 

“Did you want me to leave him there!” She glanced up, her voice sharp as she glared at him. Yu Ziyuan’s lacquered nails dug into the wood of the couch as she remembered how A-Ying had looked in the cave. How he had looked in the not-memories when he had been living on the streets in Yiling. “He’s just a child!”

“No!” Jiang Fengmian sat down next to her. He hesitated before he took one of his wife’s hands in his own. Usually, his silver eyes were placid and timid, like the surface of an untouched lake. Now, they were storm riddled and cloudy.

“Then isn’t it obvious?” She huffed, easily settling back into her mask of haughty pride even as the look in his eyes made her uneasy. “He’s the son of your childhood friend, who better than us to take him in?” 

If she had hoped this would settle the matter, she was wrong. Stubbornness was a trait that didn’t belong only to her. It was just as strong, if not stronger, in her husband. He simply hid it beneath soft smiles and gentle words. Like a coursing river slowly destroying a mountain.

“You called him your son.” Jiang Fengmian spoke again, his voice calm and gentle. “Why?” 

“I…” Yu Ziyuan stared into the silver gilded eyes of her husband. She hadn’t planned on ever telling him the truth of what she had seen. The despair filled not-future and the shame of the not-memories. What not-her had done. What not-her hadn’t done.

But the words tumbled out. She wanted to trust him. She wanted to depend on him. Jiang Fengmian had come back to die alongside her in the not-memories. Their life together had not been perfect. It had been strained and bitter. Now and in the not-memories. She had always thought he hated her at worst or simply tolerated her at best.

But she knew better now. It had all been caused by misunderstandings and mistrust. She knew better now. 

No matter how much Wei Wuxian had grown to look like Jiang Fengmian, he was not her husband’s bastard child. It was simply the Yunmeng blood from his father Wei Changze that flowed in his veins. 

No matter how much she thought her husband despised her, she was wrong. He had loved her, perhaps not at the beginning, but he had never been disloyal. 

He had never even taken in a concubine as was the custom of the lords of the Imperial Court. The custom so dearly admired by that damned Jin Guangshan. 

Yu Ziyuan trusted the man she had married with the not-future she had seen through A-Ying. 

“Wei Changze is my brother.” Her husband broke the silence. 

And everything she thought she had known about his family and his relationship with Wei Changze.

“Why wasn’t he raised alongside you?” Yu Ziyuan nearly stumbled over her words as she rearranged her memories and reconsidered everything. “Why was he introduced as a retainer? A servant?” 

Wei Changze was her husband’s brother. He was her brother in law. Curse it all! That made Cangse Sanren her sister. 

But...it made A-Ying blood of her blood. He was a Jiang by blood. No wonder he shared so many similarities with her husband and A-Cheng. 

“When my mother passed, her sister came to help my father.” Jiang Fengmian continued speaking in a calm tone. “She sent away A-Ze’s mother, claiming she was ill and needed fresh mountain air. None of us knew Second Mother was pregnant, otherwise, father would have never allowed her to be sent away. He just didn’t want her to die.” 

It was the tone that she had learned to recognize meant he was furious. Underneath the calm waters lay an abyss ready to wreak havoc. 

“I thought she had been killed by water ghouls?” Yu Ziyuan spoke carefully even though she had already begun to piece together the pieces.

Wei Changze had been introduced as a servant’s son. He was afforded more privileges than any of the other retainers and disciples, but everyone had thought it was because he was a talented cultivator that he was favored. In hindsight, his talent made it easy to hide. 

“Mother’s sister sold Second Mother to a lord of the Imperial Court as a servant.” He continued speaking in that same, calm tone that she respected. No one could ever know he was truly angry. “She barely survived giving birth to A-Ze, from what I found out.” 

That was fine. Yu Ziyuan was loud enough for both of them. 

“How did he return to Yunmeng?” She placed her free hand on top of his hands in an attempt to comfort him.

It was easy to be gentle with children. It was harder to be gentle with someone who you once thought hated you. Hindsight truly was a gift to be wary of.

“A cultivator bought him,” Jiang Fengmian explained as his body relaxed. “Somehow, they recognized him as Father’s son. They brought him here and then left.”

There had been a rigidity in his body that hadn’t been seen, an invisible tenseness that had disappeared as soon as she had placed her hand on his. Like that simple touch from her had fixed everything and washed every single one of his worries away. 

Maybe it did.

“Why did he…” Yu Ziyuan’s voice trailed, unsure if she should truly ask why. She frowned at the floor as she bit at her lower lip.

“You mean why didn’t Father recognize him as his son?” Jiang Fengmian lifted his shoulders in a helpless manner. “At the time he’d found out what truly had happened to Second Mother, she was dead. He was certain A-Ze would have been killed as well. It was safer for him to be an orphan servant boy. Wei was a common enough name, after all.” 

“Then...why didn’t you?” Yu Ziyuan didn’t ask about Mother’s sister. She had known that the woman had died while they were all studying at Cloud Recesses.

Back then, the Jiang Sect had said it was from a prolonged illness. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

Nor did Yu Ziyuan find it in herself to care. 

“A-Ze wouldn’t let me,” was the quiet response.

“What?” She glanced up, purple eyes wide with confusion in a manner reminiscent of A-Cheng. “Why?” 

Her husband leaned his head on her shoulder. She couldn’t see his eyes. She wondered how much those words had pained him.

“He’d spent his whole life being a servant.” Tiredness, that was all that emanated from his voice. “He didn’t want to bring shame to the Jiang.” 

A tiredness that came from his very soul. 

Yu Ziyuan was the Third Young Lady of Meishan Yu. She had been surrounded by her brothers and sisters. Jiang Fengmian hadn’t even been allowed to claim his own brother.

Like what the not-her had done to A-Cheng and A-Ying. 

“Absolute nonsense.” Her voice was firm and brooked no argument. “Either you put your brother’s sword in the Ancestral Hall and have a tablet made for him or I will .” 

“But his wishes—” Jiang Fengmian was jostled from his resting place on her shoulder. 

Not that his lady wife was going to allow him to continue that train of thought. She’d had enough of her family constantly sacrificing itself and giving up on their family members. Who gave a single rat’s ass about propriety? The Jiang had their roots within the lifestyle of a rogue cultivator.
They did as they pleased.

“Damn his wishes!” Yu Ziyuan hissed as she stood and pointed at her husband. “Your brother is just as much an idiot as you! He deserves to be in that hall! And that gives us an even better ground to claim A-Ying! He is your blood!” 

A vicious thought went through Yu Ziyuan’s head. She hadn’t considered it before but it made her want to laugh in triumph. The Emperor would never be able to take A-Ying from them. Cangse Sanren had married into their family. She had married a Jiang, even if he did not bear the name, and Jiang blood ran through A-Ying’s veins. 

Triumph made her violet eyes glow with pride. She felt as if she had stolen the throne from the Emperor with her very hands. That this was something momentous, another event that would change the flow of fate and continue to push that tragic destiny away from her family. 

Her husband, instead, had fallen silent. He was looking at her as if he had never seen her before. It was a strange feeling, but it wasn’t horrible. It was as if she had changed in his eyes.
She had, after all, one couldn’t remain the same after having nearly fifty or so years of not-memories shoved into their mind. Either she went insane or she adapted and overcame it. 

And Yu Ziyuan wasn’t one to give up.

“His courtesy name, you said it was Wuxian?” There was something in Jiang Fengmian’s voice. It wasn’t curiosity exactly, but it couldn’t be described as the opposite. It was….thoughtful. 

“To be free of envy and aspire to greater heights; not to be misguided by honorary reputation and personal gain.” Yu Ziyuan nodded as she automatically recited the line the name had been taken from. “It’s a fitting name, considering all that we now know. He will always do what is righteous, even if he is repudiated by the entire world.” 

Truly, her husband had picked the perfect name. Everyone in the not-memories had thought that the name had been confirmation that A-Ying was a bastard son who would never be allowed to inherit.
But that wasn’t it. He had seen something else in A-Ying, something no one had until it was too late. But it hadn[‘t been enough, even then. 

“Infinite.” There was a hint of awe and pride in his voice.

Yu Ziyuan blinked for a moment, not following her husband’s train of thought. It had been a bit of a non sequitur, having nothing to do with Xu Ben’s poetry. While the idea of being boundless wasn’t a terrible one, she would be irritated if he wanted A-Ying to follow rogue cultivators as role models. That was how his birth parents had died, after all. Reason did have its own limit, even if her husband was an idiot who followed the motto—

Oh. 

“A-Ying is without limits.” There was pride in his voice. “He’s achieved the impossible.”

Insufferable man. Not that she blamed him.

“He truly did shake the world,” added her husband, “just like the prophecy had said.” 

No. This was not something she would allow. 

“Jiang Fengmian.” Her voice was ice-cold as she said his name.

“My Lady?” He glanced at her as if startled by the sudden frigidity.

“I’m only going to say this once and therefore I want you to listen to me well.” Although her voice was steady, there was a faint tremble in her hands. “Prophecies are not real. A-Ying is going to have as peaceful a life as cultivators can have. There will be no war. Cloud Recesses and Lotus Pier will not burn. He, A-Li, and A-Cheng will make their own families. They will make their own fates. Everything will be fine. Do you understand me?” 

There had been no prophecies in the not-memories. Hopefully, that meant the one she heard as a child would never come true. That prophecy was already null and void. It could never come true. The Emperor and the Immortal Consort had had a daughter. They hadn’t had a son. 

But they had a grandson , a mocking voice whispered in her mind, a grandson who has done the impossible. A grandson who has come back from death many times.

She shoved that mocking voice away in the back of her head. It felt like nails carving a hole into her skull and pouring liquid fire into what was left.

“I understand what you wish to happen.” In an infuriatingly soothing tone, Jiang Fengmian began to speak. “But—”

Not that his wife would give him the chance, not when she had her own opinion and thoughts to get across and away from the mocking voice of liquid fire.

“Yes, we will be prepared for any eventuality.” Yu Ziyuan stopped in front of him, she hadn’t even noticed she’d begun to pace. “But! He has enough of a burden with what he remembers, A-Ying doesn’t need more fear lurking behind him.” 

“You never said he remembers.” There was horror now in her husband’s eyes as he forced his voice to be calm.

“Ah.” That was all she could say.

Ah.

What else could she say about it? That a young boy remembered being tortured and murdered? Falling to his death not once but twice? Being torn to shreds by resentful energy and ghosts and then having his body rebuilt? To tear his own body apart with his own power? To rip out his golden core?
What could anyone say to such a thing? Even knowing such things had happened was difficult, but A-Ying was Wei Wuxian. He had lived through all of that. 

“Is that why Lan Qiren is playing the Song of Cleansing while A-Ying continues to sleep?” Understanding colored Jiang Fengmian’s voice as his jaw clenched tightly. “Is that why he’s sleeping? The burden of those memories?”

Yu Ziyuan opened her mouth to respond when she realized that there was no music. 

Chapter Text

Everything had been dark. The world, the sky, the rivers — his heart. There was nothing left of anything. Everything he had loved and cared about had been ripped out of his hands and left to burn. Nothing had been left, not even ash and bone. And for what? For what purpose? Power? Avarice? 

Not that any of it mattered to him. He didn’t care as to the reason why. Everything that mattered to him had been taken from him. 

His family. Uncle Jiang. Madam Yu. Shijie. Didi. Granny Wen. Uncle Four. A-Ning. A-Qing. A-Yuan. Lan Zhan.

No. He never had Lan Zhan to begin with, so there was nothing to lose. Lan Zhan had always hated him, detested him at the worst of times, and tolerated him at the best of times. 

Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan. I would have gone back to Gusu with you if I had no one to protect. If it had just been me, I would have given myself up to you and suffered through whatever punishment you demanded. Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, if I hadn’t been...if this were another world if things were different, would you have fought by my side? Would you have been my home?

His home. Yunmeng. The rivers and lakes of Yunmeng had burned. Bodies had floated along the estuaries, mingled in between the torn petals of lotuses and water lilies. Yiling. There had only been bones and ash, but they had made a home amongst the swirling cloud of resentment and amidst the fierce corpses. But even that home had run red with blood. 

He had nothing. 

Everything had been taken from him. 

There were no bodies to bring back and those yet living would prefer to see him dead or in chains. A beast of burden for their desires of conquest and to soothe the hatred in their hearts.
It was ironic that he, the Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation who had resentment coursing through his very veins, was the only one who hadn’t been blind. What was righteous and what was evil? Was his the path of darkness and demons, or did the path of the Golden Core blind everyone to what was truly evil?

Women and children who had taken no part in the war? Physicians who had done their best to save the dying and wounded from both sides of the battlefield? Great lords of cultivation who experimented on women and children and the elderly?

What was righteous about that? What sin did a name bear? What great evil did they commit other than having the desperate desire to live?

They took what is ours. Yours. Mine. Ours. The familiar voices crooned in his ears as a velvet touch caressed the back of his neck. They were full of anger, the anger that in him had already dimmed down to an ember. While he was exhausted, they were ready and willing. They would carry his rage onward and fan the embers. Make them pay, Master. Give them the destruction they so desperately wished for. 

He could destroy everything. But that would make him no better than the rest of the cultivation world. And yet...in the end, did it truly matter? They had all repudiated him, they had all loathed him even as they desperately sought his power. They were all hypocrites and no better than the tyrant they had overthrown. 

It made no difference if he was living or dead, he had nothing to live for. Revenge? He could live for that, but what would be the point of it? What was the point in burning the mortal realm down to the ground? Should he have left it? Was Baoshan Sanren right in that there was nothing of use in the mortal world? That there was only sin and decay and death?

Perhaps there had been something to the madness of Wen Ruohan, perhaps he had seen something during the long years as Chief Cultivator. Perhaps he had seen the corruption and poison within the world and it had driven him mad with the desire of wiping the slate clean. None of them truly knew what had caused the attack on Cloud Recesses, while the attack on Yunmeng was clearly a strike in retribution for Wei Wuxian’s part in the trials of the Cave of the Xuanwu of Slaughter. 

Though, none of that mattered anymore. Wen Ruohan was dead at the hands of Jin Guangshan’s bastard son Jin Guangyao, and with that miraculous death ( he had nearly reached immortality, how? How had Jin Guangyao been able to kill him? How?) of the tyrannical Wen Ruohan, all the answers had disappeared. There was nothing. 

Nothing.
Wei Wuxian took a step back, eyes unseeing even as the haughty lords of the great clans killed themselves over the Stygian Tiger Amulet. His own creation. They thought that if they bore it, they would be able to have the secret to his power, that they would have power over life and death. They were wrong. He had been wrong. 

No, the only thing they had been right about was that it had all been his fault. He hadn’t been clever enough. 

Even so, none of them realized how foolish their desires to obtain the Stygian Tiger Amulet were. They would never be able to wield it. It belonged to him. It was something that could never be taken away from him, he just hadn’t understood it until it was too late. When he had already lost everything and nothing mattered anymore. But did that matter either? They would kill each other for it even if he wasn’t there and its secrets would never be uncovered.

Master? The crooning voices paused in confusion as their touches grew more gentle, less insistent. Are you tired? Do you want us to end this? We can stop. We will behave. Master, Master, be careful. There is a ledge, come back to us. 

Wei Wuxian didn’t know if the voices wanted him to walk away from the ledge or towards it. Either would be an answer he would willingly take. He was so tired of it all. Really, the choice was simple. He slipped Chenqing into his crimson sash as he took another step back. 

Master…? The voices had grown mournfully and, for a painful moment, he thought he heard A-Ning’s voice amidst the fray. Master, you need not do this. Master, we will stay by your side. 

The next step was the easiest, there was nothing but air and all he had to do was allow himself to fall. That was easy, he’d done it before, though not by choice. This time, he knew what he was falling to. 

There would be no one to look for him this time. 

A bloodied hand clasped around his forearm and he looked up into Lan Zhan’s golden eyes. They had always been like a frozen sun, but now? There was nothing but pain and desperate anger in those beautiful eyes. Although wounded himself, Lan Zhan refused to let go of Wei Wuxian. Lan Zhan said something, but he could barely hear anything above the sound of the voices in his mind.

Ah, but Lan Zhan, dearest Lan Zhan, you were always too good for this world, trying to save even a monster such as me.

Blood dripped onto his face, Lan Zhan’s blood. The Second Young Master of the Lan, although wounded, desperately tried to pull Wei Wuxian back up. Even as Jiang Cheng stood over them, sword in hand and a wordless scream on his lips.
“Maybe in another life, Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian smiled. “In another life, I’ll see you at Gusu.” 

Lan Zhan said something in reply. He wasn’t sure what. It had been a pleading sort of sound even as Jiang Cheng’s sword descended. He had stopped listening by then to everything. To the voices, to the sounds of the battle, to everything. 

Another life, another life, another life .

Wei Wuxian whistled a short tune.

A multitude of things happened at the same time. 

The Stygian Tiger Amulet shattered. Lightning strikes descended upon the stones of the courtyard. The strings of fate twisted, the scissors of fate stilled. Destiny took a breath. 

Wei Wuxian let go. 

Wei Wuxian fell. 

Screams filled the air.

MASTER

Another life, show me another life. Wei Wuxian closed his eyes as he fell into the clouds of resentful energy and felt gentle hands catch him. Show me a life in the future where I can see Lan Zhan again. Where we have…

Was that not too much to ask? Perhaps it was. But all he wanted was to see. He wouldn’t step into that life. All he wanted was to see, to have a beautiful vision to keep in his heart as he returned to the darkness.

Master, we will show you. The voices were crooning even as they wrapped tighter around him, leaving nothing of him behind. No Stygian Tiger Amulet, no Chenqing, no body. It was as if Wei Ying, Wei Wuxian, the Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, had ceased to exist. We will show you the life after this.  

He opened his eyes to a world of darkness. He took a breath. And then, in one moment, thirteen years passed before his eyes. A soul was sacrificed. A wish was granted in a cave. Slowly, a family came together again. And then Guanyin Temple fell and everything fell apart again.

“No, I will not lose you again.” Lan Zhan’s fingers were bloody as he pushed Wei Wuxian away from the falling rubble. The smile on his face had been pained and beatific, his beautiful features were mournful and full of shattered hope. “This time, you’ll live, Wei Ying.”

There had been a terrible sound, the snapping of strings and the breaking of his own heart. He had howled, an aching scream that echoed throughout the crumbled remains of the temple.

“Stop , ” whispered Wei Wuxian bitterly as he watched the same tragedy unfold over and over again, “this wasn’t supposed to happen. It was not supposed to be like this, I never wanted any of this.”

His wish had been granted, of course, it had been. He wanted to see another life, but this wasn’t what he meant. He saw as a bastard son of Jin Guangshan sacrificed his own soul for the chance of a many-pronged vengeance. He saw as Lan Zhan recognized him on a mountain and they danced around each other. A-Yuan had lived, he had been raised by Lan Zhan.
But that didn’t matter anymore. 

They were all dead. 

He was the only one left, again, in the ruined remains of Guanyin Temple. 

Master? The voices and their many hands pulled him close into the darkness and the images of the future disappeared. Master, it is gone. Stop weeping, Master.

He hadn’t even noticed the tears rolling down his cheeks. But were they tears anymore? Could a monster such as he even weep anymore? He had already thrown away all of his humanity, it would be ironic if this was the only thing left of his humanity if his tears were all that he had left. 

Wei Wuxian lifted a hand to wipe away the tears from his face and he couldn’t help the bitter laugh that fell from his lips. He was denied even that one paltry pittance. Blood seeped from his eyes rather than tears. There was nothing human about him left anymore. How could he even have thought that? Maybe the future he had seen had been a punishment for him? All he would ever see, no matter how far into the future he looked, would be nothing but torment. Everyone he loved dying before him and their lives continually destroyed.

Master.

How could he have even dared to hope for something as beautiful as being loved by Lan Zhan when he was a monster? Of having a family that loved him? He had thrown away every single right to happiness the moment he had clawed his way out of the Burial Mounds. He was an aberration, an abominable existence. A mistake of the cultivation world. He should have been eaten alive by those dogs in Yiling when he was a child, then the world would have been saved from suffering through his existence. No, his mother should never have left the celestial mountain, she should have stayed amongst the Immortals and the disciples of Baoshan Sanren. He would never have even been born. A creature such as him should have never been allowed to exist. All he brought was suffering and despair in his wake.

Master?

He never would have created the Stygian Tiger Amulet. He never would have delved into Demonic Cultivation. None of those things would have existed. But, maybe, just maybe, he could undo what he had created. If he used himself as penance, could he destroy everything and undo what had already been done?

Wei Wuxian stared off into the darkness that surrounded him as he lifted a bloodied finger to sketch out an array he had never dared put on paper. It had been a foolish dream he had once entertained, at the beginning of the Sunshot Campaign. A theory to turn back time, but he had filed it away in his mind, the cost had been too high. But now? There was no cost too high. Not when he had nothing left. Yes, I can do this. Just this one thing to fix everything. He ignored the insistent wailing and pleading of the voices that surrounded him as he continued sketching. The blood, his blood, hovered in mid air, glowing with power and intent as he continued dipping his fingers into his own blood.

There was a strangeness. He could feel the space around him tremble and shake. And, somehow, he knew that the world itself was on the verge of breaking. He was unraveling it, taking it apart string by string. It was his blood that was the knife that pulled everything apart. It was his blood that caused torrential rains to drown the lands and the earth to shake until all the mountains crumbled. 

The heavens would weep in his place. They would weep for all who had died, all who he had lost. Everything that had been ruined. Was this the cost he had once deemed too high? The breaking of everything and wiping the world clean in order to rewind time? It wasn’t as if he had no blood on his hands, they would never be wiped clean, even when he disappeared. So what was a little more blood? A little more death? A little more destruction?
That was all he was good for, after all, only this time he would be useful. This time, it wouldn’t be his mistakes ruining the happiness of everyone.

He had long stopped hearing the pleading voices that begged for him to stop. Raging winds filled his ears and the clap of thunder drowned out everything. He could hear the earth itself tremble and shake. The crashing of tiles and the falling of walls. The creaking of trees as they bent underneath the anger of the wind, snapping and breaking as they fell.

It was a strange sort of music.

Wufang Shangdi! It was a different voice in his ears. Not one of the crooning voices of the dead and resentful energy. It was...a familiar voice. One that lurked on the edges of his memory, a woman dressed in white. Cease, Wufang Shangdi, cease your weeping. Let the world shake no longer. There is no need for your tears.

A gentle hand touched his blood stained cheek as silver-white hair spilled over his shoulder. A woman more beautiful than the stars themselves pulled him into a gentle hold and he let himself fall against her. Safe. He felt safe in a way he hadn’t, not for many long years. Not since he had lost his parents. 

My little Wufang Shangdi, how you have grown. Her voice was soft, like the rush of a summer wind through a forest of bamboo. There was a gentleness to it, as if assuring him that nothing would go wrong again. I did not think we would meet again thus, my child, my little one. 

He knew her. He had never seen her, he was sure of it. Not in this world, not in this lifetime. But he knew her.

She was his grandmother. 

He didn’t know the name she called him, but a part of him recognized it. A part of him so deep inside of him that he had nearly forgotten it had existed. (No, that was a lie. It was the part of him where his Golden Core had been, the part where resentment and death had seeped inside of him. The place deep inside of him that was frozen and could never be warmed.)

Zumu , Wei Wuxian spoke without words as his hands trembled and the array before them dimmed, Zumu, I am so tired. Please, please help me. 

The raging music in his ears seemed to still. There were no winds, no shaking earth, no breaking trees. There was nothing but blessed silence.

I know, my child . His grandmother spoke carefully even as she wrapped one of her hands around his and began to adjust the array he had created. But this is not the path. Let me show you a different one. And it can be your choice.

The array began to change, silver thread shot through the crimson lines and he could feel a different energy embrace his resentful energy. A beautiful song began to emerge from within that mix, one that rang of hope and change. Of a new beginning. Somewhere that there would be less pain. A world where he wouldn’t be a mistake.
A different one? He turned his head to stare at her, the crimson slowly fading from his eyes as they mirrored her own silver ones. I can’t go back? 

No, we can never go back. We can only move forward. There was a hint of melancholy in her own voice as if she had lost something in the past as well. Something that had burdened her heart in the same way that he was. Look, my little one, look in the mirror. 

The array was gone and in its place was a mirror made of water. Reflected upon its smooth surface was a much younger version of himself. No more than five or six. He was sitting, in a meditative state, in a darkened cave. The familiar curl of resentful energy wafted around his younger version. 

What happened? Wei Wuxian reached out a hand to the mirror and the resentful energy in the vision reacted, moving joyfully in the cave. Why is there…

Destiny has a way of fulfilling its wishes. Her hand was gentle as she brought it up to his face again. She didn’t seem to care about the state of her white robes as she pressed them to his face, wiping away the blood that stained his flesh. Your fate in this life was not dissimilar, but your wish for a different life stopped destiny in its tracks. This will not be like what had been done by Mo Xuanyu. No souls will be lost or sacrificed, he is you and you are him. Like water flowing into a spring.

The Wei Ying in the mirror seemed gaunt. Small and malnourished even though his robes were rich. Wei Wuxian knew, with every fiber of his being, that his parents were dead. There was no other reason as for why a child would be so small. But he didn’t remember, in his own world, being in a cave. He couldn’t remember encountering resentful energy at so young an age. Things were different in this world, but he felt relieved by the presence of the resentful energy, of how it reacted joyfully to his touch even though the mirror.   

Why? Why was it my wish that changed things? He tore his gaze away from the water mirror and stared down at his hands. The answer was something he didn’t want to hear. It would only cement the truth. 

You know why, my little one. She chided him gently.

Yes. He did know why. Towards the end, when nothing had mattered anymore and it was too late. That was when the puzzle pieces had begun to fit for him. Impossible things, all of it. He had always survived and accomplished the impossible as if it was the very will of the heavens that Wei Wuxian would always live. 

But he had been left alone to discover that, in a world where he had no place. 

But...he had a place in this world. And he knew better now.

I can change everything, can’t I? He lifted his gaze again, to the water mirror and the image of the younger him. I know you said this is a different world, but—

And then he saw her, his voice trapped in his throat. Madam Yu walking towards the younger him, concern glowed in her eyes. There was a kindness in her voice he had never heard directed towards him, only, it was now. And he knew, knew it in the deepest part of his soul, that this was his chance. The moment Madam Yu’s fingers brushed against the forehead of his younger self, he disappeared through the water mirror. 

*

***

*

Baoshan Sanren sat in the darkness for a long time. She was the sole source of light in that nothingness, it emanated from her very being as if she was a star. 

Perhaps she was. 

After what was, perhaps, an eternity (or a single moment) she stood and delicately folded her hands in front of her. The edges of her white robes were stained with blood, but the crimson stains shimmered as they disappeared. 

The Immortal stared at the mirror of water that hovered in front of her, watching as the events of the mortal realm sped past. So many little things, so many desires, and sins. 

And yet…

No, she was not one for regrets. Not when there was so much yet that needed to be done. Regrets were for those who had the luxury of death. Immortals had no use for such a dangerous thing. 

Baoshan Sanren stepped through the water mirror and returned to her celestial mountain. 

*

***

*

Lan Qiren, the acting Sect Leader of the Lan stepped into the richly appointed room. It was luxurious, as was fitting for the residence of a member of the main family of the Jiang clan, but it wasn’t ostentatious. Not like the golden rooms of the Lanling Jin who quite literally wore their wealth on their sleeves and in their hair. No, these rooms were tasteful and elegant, even if they were far from the style of his own home. 

Instead of sitting at the low table quite a few feet away from the bed, he carefully carried a chair from one side of the room over to the bed. Silently, he sat and summoned his guqin. The spiritual instrument hovered perfectly in the air before him, ready to play at any moment. 

But first, he took a moment to examine his patient. A young boy who slept on the bed, no older than his A-Zhan, perhaps. There was nothing overt that he could see or sense, there was no slithering energy reminiscent of a curse or the oppressive energy that came with possession. For that, he was grateful. No child should ever have to suffer through such an ordeal. In fact, his patient seemed to have an abundance of energy but there was no hint of a possible qi deviation. Even for that, no child had ever suffered through a qi deviation. He was unsure exactly why the Madam of the Jiang had demanded the Song of Cleansing be played for this child, for everything seemed to be fine, but he was certain he would find out later on. 

Notes of serenity began to fill the room, creating an atmosphere of purity as his qi poured over the room. Lan Qiren played gently, intent on making the process as painless and as peaceful as possible for the child. The Song of Cleansing rarely caused discomfort and he doubted such a thing would happen for the peaceful looking child, but as he had no clear diagnosis, it couldn’t hurt to be on the safe side.

Yet, as Lan Qiren played, there was a discordant note in reply and he frowned. He plucked at another string, adjusting the song slightly. It shouldn’t have been possible, and yet he received the same answer in response. Again, he adjusted the Song of Cleansing as he kept a careful eye on the sleeping child. Again, he received the same response. 

There was something terribly wrong and he couldn’t explain how it had occurred or how it was even possible. All he knew was that the Song of Cleansing wouldn’t be enough. Not when the child was...no, he could barely even give thought to it in his own mind. How was he to explain such a thing to Madam Yu and Lord Jiang? No one had ever thought such a thing to be possible, let alone in a child.

Still, Lan Qiren had his own sort of stubbornness and he continued playing the Song of Cleansing, studying the way the child’s Golden Core responded and making a note of every single curl of calm resentful energy. It was so strange, to see the murderous energy as still as the surface of the water. While he knew it was nothing but pure evil, as they had all been taught since childhood, it flowed through the sleeping child in a nurturing manner. As if the resentment wanted to do nothing but protect him. And it did. 

It coursed through his body and wrapped itself around the child’s Golden Core. There was no ill effect to the child, rather, he could see, from the way it responded to the Song of Cleansing, that it truly was protecting the child. No, it was as much a part of the child as his Golden Core.

But...there was so much of it. So much of everything . How was this child to survive without breaking?

A teardrop fell onto the strings of the guqin and Lan Qiren blinked as he lifted a hand to wipe away the wetness from his eyes. He was already mourning the child, a child as small as his quiet A-Zhan. How could the world be so cruel to someone so young?

At that moment, a sound came from the bed. Not a sigh or a yawn, but a soft sound of confusion. Lan Qiren turned his head slowly, so as to not scare the boy if he was awake, toward the bed. And he was awake. A child who was so painfully familiar once those silver eyes were revealed. He had only known a few people with eyes so silver and so deep. 

Jiang Fengmian. 

Wei Changze.

Cangse Sanren.

The boy’s silver eyes were cloudy as he stared at him. No, the boy wasn’t staring at him. The silvery eyes were unfocused, there was no youthful joy in them. It felt wrong to him. A child shouldn’t be so empty. 

“Am I at Cloud Recesses?” Cangse Sanren’s son spoke quietly, almost as if he was unsure of his own voice. 

It was wrong, to see the child of someone who he remembered being so loud and vivid to be so quiet. Cangse Sanren’s child should have been loud and mischievous. Not quiet and suffering.

“No, little one.” Lan Qiren stilled his hands on the guqin as he answered softly. “You are at Lotus Pier.” 

Cangse Sanren’s son rolled onto his side, robes rustling and black hair falling into his face, his silver eyes were nearly hidden by his hair. But, it was clear that the child’s eyes were on the guqin in front of Lan Qiren. 

“S’not the same,” the boy said at last, almost pouting. 

It would have been adorable, if Lan Qiren weren’t worried about the child’s mental state. He didn’t seem to be suffering any ill effects, but he was only awake for a few moments so far. There was so much that could be swirling behind those silver eyes and Lan Qiren would never know unless he asked, unless he built up trust with the child and sought to understand.

“What’s not the same?” Lan Qiren asked in the same tone he used with his youngest nephew, his little rabbit. “Could you tell me, so I can try to make it more familiar for you?” 

The boy’s brow furrowed, obviously contemplating Lan Qiren’s words. He worried at his bottom lip, chewing on the flesh until it was red and sore. At long last, the boy rolled onto his back, staring up at the wooden canopy of his bed with frustration.

“Everything.” He lifted his small hands into the air as he waved them, pointing at nothing in particular. “And the music. It sounded different when he played it. Sadder. Why isn’t yours sad? I thought it was supposed to be sad.” 

Lan Qiren paused, confusion flitting across his dark gold eyes. Who had played the Song of Cleansing for Cangse Sanren’s son before? Only those of the Lan Clan knew the song and, in recent years, no one outside of the clan had been taught it. Unless Cangse Sanren had played it for her son, but why would a musical piece be sad if it came from her fingers?

“Who?” He remembered, at the last moment, that he could ask the child. “Who played this song for you before?”

There was a moment of silence and more rustling of fabric, the boy had wrapped himself in the blankets. His silver eyes were watery and he sniffled from the middle of the cocoon he had made for himself.
“Lan Zhan.” The boy’s voice was quiet and trembling, as if he was on the verge of tears. “My Lan Zhan. He played this. S’pposed to help. I don’t know. I’m tired. I want my Lan Zhan.” 

The door to the room opened before Lan Qiren could comment on anything. He swallowed all of his questions as he stood, Madam Yu rushing past him in a flurry of silk to sit by the child’s side. Jiang Fengmian followed her at a more sedate pace, his arms behind his back as he stood silently by the bed.

“A-Ying!” She reached out to wrap her arms around him, one hand patting at his head. “Thank the gods, you’re awake.” 

The child stared at her in unblinking silence before he leaned into her touch, hesitantly. 

“Madam Yu, Lord Jiang,” Lan Qiren spoke softly as he stood, moving out of the family’s way as his guqin vanished, “I must speak with you later.”
 

Lan Qiren left the rooms quietly, certain that a servant would be sent to find him later on. This was not the time for him to speak of his theories and worries. This was a time for family to be together. And it would give him more time to think, but even as he attempted to wrap his head around what had happened, only the impossible came to mind. 

Impossible things, blasphemous things, but...entirely different from everything he had known and studied. An entirely different path and possibility…

It was while quietly thinking, standing on one of the docks of Lotus Pier, that a servant indeed came to fetch him and he found himself sitting in a pavilion out on the lake. Madam Yu and Jiang Fengmian sat across from him, both waiting for him to speak.

“Well? What is it?” Albeit, Madam Yu impatiently.

Truly, some things never changed.

“His soul is, well, misaligned is the only way I can explain it.” Lan Qiren paused as he frowned while explaining what he had uncovered. “No, not misaligned. That’s the wrong word. Please, bear with me as I attempt to explain.” 

There was a long moment of silence. Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Fengmian both waited, again, for him to collect his thoughts and gather his words in order to explain what he had seen, or rather, what he had felt and heard. 

“It’s his soul, no one else’s, but it’s simply...too big for his mind and body.” That, he was entirely sure of. “Think of a qiankun pouch, the amount it can fit is endless compared to a regular pouch. But if one suddenly treated a regular pouch like a qiankun pouch…”

As if to demonstrate, Lan Qiren picked up the teapot and began to pour tea into his cup. Only, he didn’t stop once the cup was full. He continued pouring tea until it overflowed and ran in rivers on the table. It was then that he set the pot back down in its place.

“It’ll rip at the seams.” Yu Ziyuan’s hands spasmed, nails driving deep into the palms of her flesh. No, no, we have just gotten him back. He cannot die. Not like this. “His body can’t bear it.” She hadn’t needed the visual explanation. She understood it very well, her throbbing head was full of those not-memories, but for her they were distant as if they were dreams or half-formed thoughts. But they weren’t that for A-Ying. 

“How is this possible?” Jiang Fengmian placed his hand on top of one of his wife’s hands in an attempt to give her some comfort. 

In such a situation, the tiniest bit of reassurance was welcome. 

“It is not dissimilar to possession.” Lan Qiren motioned at the tea cup he had used in his example before he waved his hand, the mess disappearing with a small exertion of qi. “Only, the soul is matched perfectly to the body, it is clear it is not an unknown entity possessing the child. His soul is simply too...big.” 

Yu Ziyuan slowly unclenched her hands as she listened to his words. There was too much of A-Ying. Was it because his body was too undeveloped for the power he bore? Or was it the price of his memories from the futures he had lived through? There were too many possibilities and not enough answers. 

“What can be done?” Finally, she spoke. Her voice didn’t tremble, even as she held on to her husband’s hand as if it was the only thing saving her from drowning. “Is there anything we can do to help A-Ying? Anything your healers can do?”

Not for the first time, Yu Ziyuan cursed Cangse Sanren in her head. If the woman were still alive, she would be able to help. She knew it. If not, she would have been able to lead them to the celestial mountain where her mother lived. If anyone would have a solution for saving A-Ying, it would be the Immortal Baoshan Sanren. But Cangse Sanren was dead and there was no one who knew the path to the celestial mountain.

“Madam, I promise you that I will find a treatment.” Lan Qiren inclined his head to the Madam of the Jiang, his voice solemn as he made a promise. A promise from a Lan was worth more than all the wealth of the Jins. “There is also a far more delicate matter I must inform you both of.”

“Delicate matter?” Yu Ziyuan’s purple eyes narrowed as she stared at him, whatever elation and relief she might have felt from the promise was gone in that instance. “What do you mean by delicate matter ?”

“I assure you that, no matter how fantastical what I say is, he is in no danger from it.” Lan Qiren was hesitant to say it, but he wanted to reassure them of the fact that the child was, most importantly, in no danger from it. “A-Ying has two sources of energy in his body. A Golden Core and, for lack of a better term, a pool of resentment.” 

Yu Ziyuan had stilled slightly at his words and Jiang Fengmian’s silver eyes narrowed in thought. Both lacked surprise, no, that wasn’t correct. They weren’t surprised by his words, but rather by the fact that he knew.

“You knew,” Lan Qiren continued after the moment of silence, his voice chilly as he spoke. “You knew about the resentful energy and said nothing. What else have you not been honest about in regards to my patient? How am I supposed to heal him if you are keeping secrets that can be detrimental to his health?”

Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Fengmian exchanged a glance. It was a burden, the knowledge that Yu Ziyuan and A-Ying bore, but the choice came down to her. She had already shared the knowledge once with Jiang Fengmian already. Sharing it with Lan Qiren couldn’t be much of a mistake, he had been one of their closest allies in the not-future and even now. Wei Wuxian had even been sheltered at Cloud Recesses in the not-future, Lan Qiren had allowed the last surviving Wen to be brought into the main family. Be it out of penance or guilt, he had still written in Wei Wuxian’s adopted son as the blood of the Lan within the archives and helped protect the boy from anyone seeking retribution. The Lan Clan had broken so many of their own rules in order to protect Wei Wuxian’s adopted son, one of her grandchildren.  

And now? He hadn’t demanded for A-Ying to be punished for harboring resentful energy in his body. He was worried about him. 

This Lan Qiren could be trusted. 

“It is a very long story.” 

“I assure you, Madam,” Lan Qiren spoke with all the patience of a schoolmaster, “I have the time.”

Once more, Yu Ziyuan delved into the story of what had happened just a few hours earlier. Of finding the cave with Cangse Sanren’s statue, the shallow grave with Wei Changze’s body, and of Wei Ying sitting unresponsive. Of how once she had touched the boy, she had seen glimpses of a future that had come to pass in a different world. A world that had very nearly destroyed itself. A world where Wei Ying had given so much of himself he had nothing left to give. 

“Well, that does explain quite a lot,” said Lan Qiren as he took a sip of his tea. He set the cup down elegantly and closed his eyes as he digested all of the information. If he were a lesser Lan, he would have panicked in that moment. Or perhaps even fainted. But he had studied alongside Cangse Sanren, he was no lesser Lan. 

“I...forgive me, A-Ren, but you don’t seem very surprised.” Jiang Fengmian blinked languidly as he studied his former classmate. 

“No other explanation makes sense.” Lan Qiren spoke calmly as he stared out over the surface of the lake. “Once you strike out every other explanation, the one that is left, no matter how improbable, is the solution. Besides, how else would he have heard Wangji play the Song of Cleansing when he has only begun to practice it?”

*

***

*

Unbeknownst to the adults discussing him, the moment the Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation had opened his eyes, a series of events were set into place. 

Throughout the various clan lands, children began to dream. Of lotuses and lakes. Of mountains and waterfalls. Of a flute song on the wind. And all of them began to yearn, unknowing and unsure of what for, but they yearned. 

On a distant mountain, far out of the reach of mortal hands, an Immortal watched all of these events from a silver mirror. 

And in the Imperial Palace, a compass began to spin. 

Chapter Text

Yu Ziyuan was grateful that Lan Qiren had quietly left the room, not that she would say it to his face, but she was grateful nonetheless. It was a relief to see A-Ying awake and conscious, even if his eyes were still hazy and cloudy. Hopefully, it was just from needing sleep and nothing more...worrisome. If it was, they would find out from Lan Qiren just as soon as she finished reassuring herself that A-Ying was, in fact, not going to disappear into thin air. 

This meant she had a tight, if gentle, hold on A-Ying as she carded her fingers through his tangled dark locks of hair. Jiang Fengmian sat next to her on the bed. She couldn’t see his eyes, but she was sure that his gaze was just as gentle as her hold on A-Ying was. Yu Ziyuan would never be able to hate her husband if he showed kindness to an orphan child. It wouldn’t simply be towards A-Ying, but if her husband brought back another child he had found on the street, she would accept that child as her own as well. She couldn’t have a hard heart again in regards to children. Not after everything she had learned and seen. 

There had been too much hatred and death already. They all deserved love and happiness.

“Why are you being nice to me?” A-Ying’s voice, wavering, and quiet, broke the silence in the room. “Didn’t you see? Ah, no, are you going to use me? That’s okay, I can be useful and I have a lot to pay back. I can do a lot.” 

There was a wrongness to his voice, an inflection that shouldn’t belong in the voice of a child. The belief that he has nothing more than a tool to be used — and that he accepted it. Did A-Ying think she had brought him here only to use him? Or did he think the only value he had in this world was as a tool, a weapon? Because of everything that happened during the Sunshot Campaign? Everything that happened after? All the cultivators and clans turning their backs on him the moment he was no longer useful and had become a threat to them...

No. He was not allowed to sound like that. That wrongness had no place in his voice and she would...she would…

How was he to believe her? It was easy to speak to his sleeping form, but A-Ying remembered everything. Every cruel word that fell from her lips and every hit from Zidian. 

Better, she had to be better. She could promise him the very world but it would mean nothing if she did nothing. If all she gave him were words, as the Jiang Fengmian of the not-future had done. He had loved A-Ying, but he had done nothing.

“No, A-Ying, you don’t need to do anything.” Yu Ziyuan spoke carefully and firmly, attempting to convey everything she was feeling through not just her words, but through her embrace. “We just want you to grow up well and live in happiness. You don’t owe us anything, it is our duty, no, our privilege to take care of you. Your name will be added to the family records, as they should have been when you were born. A-Ying will be Jiang Ying, and your courtesy name will be Jiang Wuxian.” 

A-Ying startled in her arms and he pushed his way halfway out of her hold. He stared at her, with those silver eyes of his that were so similar to A-Cheng’s and Jiang Fengmian’s. But there were differences too, his eyes weren’t a placid lake of silver or a tumultuous storm cloud. His silver eyes were like blades, they weighed everything. They cut through to her very soul and seemed to be judging, deciding, and searching for something. 

There was something terrible about those eyes. They weren’t the eyes of a child. They were barely the eyes of a mortal. 

Those silver eyes were the eyes of someone who had seen too much, lived too long. Done too much. But — even telling herself that, it didn’t fit in her mind. They were like Cangse Sanren’s eyes, during the few times she had seen the woman without a smile. 

Blank eyes. Eyes that were nothing but a mirror. No, it wasn’t that he was judging her. It was that his gaze was forcing her to judge herself, to face herself. What a terrible and dangerous gaze, no wonder the people of the not-future had not dared to meet his eyes.

“Why?” His voice was broken and pleading even as there was a flash of red in his silver eyes. “Why are you doing all of this? I don’t get it.”

A-Ying’s body trembled with frustration as he balled his fists into the fabric of his robes. Darkness slithered in the corners of the room and the shadows on the walls seemed to darken, the shadows on the floor grew longer and larger. The air had yet to become oppressive, but Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Fengmian felt as if a thousand pairs of eyes were upon them. 

Watching. Waiting.

“A-Ying, your father was my didi.” Jiang Fengmian spoke, his voice as soft as the waters that surrounded Lotus Pier. “We aren’t trying to replace your parents or indebt you to us, we simply want to take care of you and the best way we can do that is by not hiding who you are. Even if we ignore who your mother is, you are a child of the main family of the Jiang Clan. You are the First Young Master of Lotus Pier.” 

Confusion had settled, again, into A-Ying’s eyes. And then quiet understanding followed by timid acceptance. 

“Won’t I shame…” His voice was quieter this time around, the words stumbling as he tried to force them out. “Won’t I shame Madam Yu? Won’t people say I’m a bastard child?” 

Those words stabbed into Yu Ziyuan’s heart and she wanted nothing more than to come face to face with the not-her and show her exactly just how fearsome Zidian was.

“I’ll strike down anyone who dares to call you a bastard child.” There was no room for confusion in her voice as she spoke. Yu Ziyuan’s words were ironclad and offered no judgment. Not of A-Ying. “And, even if you were, it does not matter. I claimed you as my son.”

A-Ying stared at her. He shifted to look at Jiang Fengmian who only smiled softly and placed his hand on A-Ying’s cheek. And then the shadows slithered back into their darkness and the oppressive air lifted.

The sharpness in his figure had disappeared and he became softer, curling into Yu Ziyuan’s embrace. He rested his head on her chest, fingers still twisted into the soft fabric of his robes. 

“Things are so different,” murmured A-Ying from the gentle embrace of her arms. “I wonder how much is the same. Zumu didn’t say.”

Yu Ziyuan’s mind paused the mention of Zumu. There was only one grandmother yet living of A-Ying’s. He had to have been referring to Baoshan Sanren. But when had the Immortal even had a chance to have spoken to A-Ying? And, from the sound of it, it seemed that the Immortal had a hand in A-Ying’s travel through time. Not for the first time did she curse at how difficult — impossible — it was to find Baoshan Sanren. Of course, a woman as irritating as Cangse Sanren would be bound to have a mother just as difficult. 

A-Ying was not allowed to get into the habit of disappearing to impossible to find mountains. Not now. Not ever.

“What is truly important has not changed.” Jiang Fengmian leaned closer as he bumped his forehead against A-Ying’s, his voice tender and loving. “You are loved and beloved.”
Yu Ziyuan couldn’t help the burst of affection that rose up in her chest. She wanted to see all three of her children grow up with the love of their parents, to have Lotus Pier echoing with their happy laughs, and for all three of them to look at their parents with love and trust. For their little family to continue growing, for the bond between all of them to deepen and become stronger. 

A family built on trust and love that would be so much stronger than one built on resentment and mistrust.

“Love. Lan Zhan...Lan Zhan said he always loved me.” There was a moment where A-Ying’s eyes were clear, the fog that had been clouding the silver orbs had dissipated. His voice was soft, barely above a whisper. “He was always giving me so much, but I didn’t realize it. I want to give him back everything he’s given me. Even if the Lan Zhan of this world doesn’t love me. That’s okay. I just want him to be happy.” 

Yu Ziyuan shared a glance with Jiang Fengmian, when she had quickly shared the not-memories with him, she hadn’t glossed over the effect Lan Zhan had had on their A-Ying. There had been many obstacles to their love, all because of the foolishness of youths and then the tragedies of war. And because A-Ying didn’t believe he deserved love. 

That was a sentiment she and Jiang Fengmian would dissuade him of. 

“I’m sure that once he meets you again, he will love you.” Yu Ziyuan didn’t doubt, for a moment, the love that the Second Jade of Gusu bore for her son. Their love had already transcended time once, it would do so again and this time, it would flow smoother. “You just have to focus on resting and getting better.” 

A-Ying settled deeper into her embrace, face half-hidden in a mess of dark hair and purple silks. There was a faint flush to the tips of his ears. A-Cheng blushed in the same manner. Her lovely boys, so alike. She exchanged a smirk with Jiang Fengmian over A-Ying’s head.

“Where’s Shi...Jiejie?” A-Ying’s voice was muffled by his hair and Yu Ziyuan’s silks.

“She is at Meishan Yu,” Jiang Fengmian coughed as he winked at his wife. “I will send disciples to escort her back. She’ll be pleased to have a new didi to spoil.” 

The room seemed to grow that much brighter for a moment, so brief that Yu Ziyuan thought she had imagined it. She blinked, eyes blurry from the light, and saw that her husband was blinking in the same manner. So she hadn’t imagined it...

“Mn. I missed Jiejie.”

“I know, A-Ying,” Yu Ziyuan hummed lightly in response as she watched Jiang Fengmian. “I know.” 

Her husband walked over to a silken cord and pulled on it. He waited for a moment before he opened the servant’s door and disappeared down in it, clearly not wanting to disturb A-Ying with a new face suddenly. 

“Where did A-Cheng go?” A-Ying raised his head, suddenly frowning as he glanced at the empty bed. “Why didn’t he stay?”

“You...knew he was here?” Yu Ziyuan didn’t allow herself to falter as she carded her fingers through A-Ying’s hair. 

Had it been that strange occurrence that had let A-Ying know that A-Cheng had been in the room? Was it the flow of energy? Had he recognized that there was something there? Or was it because he was related by blood now to A-Cheng and his powers recognized that bond? There were too many possibilities and she didn’t have the luxury of exploring that now. Yu Ziyuan needed more books, more tomes, and scrolls on impossible things. 

An Immortal or two would be more than helpful.

“Mn. I felt A-Cheng.” A-Ying nodded sleepily as he bit back a yawn. “Too tired now to go look for him. Jus’wanna sleep.” 

At that point, Jiang Fengmian had entered the room with one of A-Cheng’s nursemaids, Jia Xinyue, a quiet girl with a delicate hand. She did her best not to stare at A-Ying with wide eyes, but Yu Ziyuan didn’t blame her. She was sure that the rumors had already begun. 

“You can go back to sleep after you’ve had some food and a bath.” Yu Ziyuan stood from the bed, still holding A-Ying in her arms. “Can you do that for me? Can you go with your nursemaid? Jia Xinyue will make sure you’re clean and warm. And then you’ll be in robes fit for the First Young Master of Lotus Pier and then you can eat something to fill your belly. You must be starving, after all.”

Yu Ziyuan walked toward the wide-eyed girl and leveled a stare at her. It wasn’t that she distrusted the girl, but there was nothing wrong with allowing a hint of a glare to seep into her face. A-Ying was not to be mistreated. There was nothing that could be mistaken from her calling him the First Young Master of Lotus Pier. All that was left to do was paperwork and that could be done after the talk with Lan Qiren. 

“Mn.” A-Ying raised his head as he offered a tired wave to Jia Xinyue. “Is gonna be spicy?” 

“Yes, A-Ying.” There had been a short, delighted laugh from Jiang Fengmian. “I’ll make sure it’s spicy.” 

*

***

*

The nursemaid, he’d forgotten her name already, drew in a sharp breath. 

Ah. 

While this body didn’t bear the scars of fighting stray dogs for food scraps, there were scars on his soul that weren’t erased. Scars that had followed him over to his new — old— body. 

A blazing sun, the sect symbol of the Qishan Wen, was branded into his chest. It was clear that this had been the work of a spiritual tool and what kind of monsters branded a child? The brand was distressing enough to distract from the other marks, including the one that spanned the largest stretch of flesh. The one that, arguably, should have been the cause for the most concern. Not in this lifetime, though.

It was a pale expanse in the shape of a starburst, almost in a mockery of the lotus symbol favored by the Jiang Clan, it was all that had been left of his Golden Core.

It was the scar from when Wen Qing had removed his Golden Core to transplant it into his shidi —now his didi and wasn't fate strange —. A Golden Core he had regained, from the moment the Wei Wuxian of a future that would never come to pass had merged with the soul of the A-Ying from a past he had never lived. It felt...strange. He had gotten used to not having a Golden Core and Mo Xuanyu’s Golden Core hadn’t been the same, it was so weak compared to the raging fire that used to swirl inside of him. But it was back now, coursing through his body at the same speed that resentful energy did. By all rights, the two energies should have been attempting to tear each other apart, but they weren’t.

Rather a fitting metaphor for his mental state.

Wei Wuxian was A-Ying and A-Ying was Wei Wuxian and they were Jiang Ying. He didn’t think he could ever get used to that name.
Jiang Ying.

How could he even get used to that? To any of it? Cangse Sanren, an immortal princess — but she died, how can an immortal die, why did she die — was his mother and he was related to the Jiangs by blood. A family was all he had ever wanted, in that other life. His past-future. He had that now, but it wasn’t...he didn’t know how to behave. Was he A-Ying or was he Wei Wuxian or was he Jiang Ying? Who was he supposed to be? 

“First Young Master, does this hurt?” The nursemaid knelt in front of him, his discarded robes in her hands as her dark eyes grew watery at the sight of the scars. “Are you in pain?”

A-Ying and Wei Wuxian stared at her. Had Wei Wuxian known her? Had she been a servant in Lotus Pier when all of Yunmeng had burned? Had the Qishan Wen soldiers killed her and thrown her burnt body into the waters of Yunmeng? He couldn’t remember her. He couldn’t remember her face. A-Ying never had the chance to know her until now.

“Leave me alone.” He — they? — turned away from the nursemaid and clambered into the bronze bathtub by himself, splashing water onto the floor. “It’s okay.”

“F-First Young Master, I cannot—” the nursemaid protested, her hands twisting into the fabric of his discarded robes.
Her heartbeat was so loud. It was like a festival drum, he could have danced to it if he wanted to. 

“You won’t get in trouble.” He lifted a hand to point at the silken cord within reach of the bathtub, his voice was quiet and soothing and there was a hint of something in his voice. “I’ll call you when I’m ready to come out. Just wanna be alone.”

The nursemaid murmured a soft agreement, her heart calming down as she stood and left the washroom quietly. There had been no concern or argument from her, not when that something had seeped into his voice.

A-Ying — Wei Wuxian — drew in a jagged breath. He hadn’t meant to — it had just happened and he didn’t think it would, it had been an accident. It hadn’t happened while with...with the Jiangs. Dead? Was she dead? Had she died in his past or was it — was it that other thing? 

His hands spasmed and darkness clawed at his throat as jagged claws dug deeply into his flesh. Resentment oozed from and coiled around the open wounds on his throat yet no blood dripped into the bathwater from those slashes. 

It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. 

But the pain was real. 

His body was breaking at the seams, his mind was already broken, perhaps, so there was little to lose there. But the moment of doubt, that moment of panic, had undone everything Lan Qiren had done. The Song of Cleansing hadn’t been enough. Not just one session. Or maybe it was Lan Qiren who hadn’t been enough? Or was it him who was too weak? Too pathetic to even hold it together?

Master? The crooning voices slithered from out of the shadows of his mind, dark and nurturing touches running across his skin. Master, Master, you have returned to us, from the mountains and the caves to the rivers and lakes.

He couldn’t focus on them. He didn’t know if they came on an ill wind to bring misfortune, or if he was the misfortune. He wasn’t sure, how could he? What was he but an albatross that destroyed every nest? Was Yunmeng to burn again because he was here? What should he have done? 

Master, Master, focus on the sun. The voices overlapped each other, it was difficult to pick out where one stopped and the other began. Dream of the sun. The water shall not burn. We are here with you. The lotuses shall bloom.

Wei Wuxian didn’t know. Everything was supposed to have stopped. They had all said things would be different. So why? Why was he dying all over again?

The arrows that pierced his body were real, the pain he felt was real. The burning and the searing and the wanting to forget everything and please, just make it stop. 

Cling.

A soft sound filled the washroom and an aura of peace spilled throughout every corner of the room. It washed over him like a gentle breeze and it was suddenly easy to breathe again. The pain lessened, becoming almost forgettable again for him. 

He looked up and there was a semi-transparent woman floating in the air in front of him.

Silver ornaments gracefully crowned her head, tiny amethyst gems dangled from silver chains and flowed down the length of her long hair. Precious silks fluttered on a nonexistent breeze, a silver lotus was embroidered at her waist, and in her hands was a fan. The Jiang Clarity Bell dangled from the silken sash of lavender at her waist. He could see, from the intricacy of the design engraved on the delicate silver bell, that it denoted her as a member of the Main Family.

Her face was cheerful, dark grey eyes dancing and what seemed to be a smile ready on her painted lips. She was beautiful, in a wild and carefree way. Like she was meant to be dancing on the surface of a lake, surrounded by flourishing lotuses and glowing fireflies.

She wasn’t familiar to him. This woman wasn’t one of the ghosts from the retinue of his past-future. 

“Who are you?” Slowly, his hands fell from where they had been clutching at his throat. 

I am Wei Changying, Young Master. Daintily, the ghost slipped into a courtly bow. It is a great honor to meet you. 

“Wei...Changying?” Wei, that had been his family name. His father had been Wei Chang ze and he had been Wei Ying .

Yes, Young Master. Her dark grey eyes crinkled and a gentle warmth glowed from within them as she opened her fan, a small giggle fell from her lips. I am the Second Lady of Lord Jiang Guanyu. Everyone has been very loud with your arrival, they shall all be jealous that I met you first. But we ladies are allowed to be selfish, don’t you agree?

“I— you’re my family?” He stared at her, in disbelief and shock as he leaned forward. “And, everyone? What do you mean by everyone?”

She couldn’t have meant the voices, the voices were always with him. They didn’t part from him, they couldn’t, not really. Unless she meant the Jiang ancestors? Was that who she meant by everyone? And if they knew, how many people knew who — what — he was?

Distracted, and tired as he was, he didn’t notice the creaking of a different door. Wei Changying did and she smiled further behind her fan, another happy giggle falling from her lips. Her eyes crinkled further as the features of her face softened further before she swooped down and pressed a kiss to his forehead before disappearing.

“Gege, who are you talking to?” A-Cheng peered from around the door, a soft breeze ruffling his bangs as if someone had pressed a kiss to his forehead as well. Perhaps they had.

“A-Cheng?” He turned around, silver eyes wide and watery. “A-Cheng!”

It was his A-Cheng, his A-Cheng! His didi, alive and safe and unharmed and Golden Core intact. 

He did the only thing that he, in all intents and purposes, a five-year-old, was able to do. He burst into tears.

*

***

*

There had been so much blood. The very air was thick with the scent of it, he almost choked on the taste of it. Between the smoke, the pure resentment that filled the air, and the blood, Lan Zhan didn’t know how he was breathing. He shouldn’t have been able to. 

It’s just a dream, he murmured to himself as he closed his eyes and slowly counted as high as he could. 

The dreams never ended the same way, but the stories of the dreams were always the same. A boy with silver eyes that flashed red and the world breaking around them. Lan Zhan never reached the boy in time, even with the grown-up body he had in those terrible dreams, the boy always died in front of him. Sometimes, the boy died in his arms, gasping for air as blood gurgled in his throat. 

It was a terrible sound that echoed in the expanse around them — sometimes a cave, sometimes a battlefield, sometimes a crumbling temple — and made his heart tremble. Those were the worst versions of the dreams when he had reached the boy but it still wasn’t enough. The boy died, the boy always died, and everyone celebrated. 

He wanted to hurt everyone who laughed at the death of the boy, but he knew it was wrong but he was so angry — what did the boy do that was wrong — whywhywhyWHY!

Sometimes, he died alongside the boy. That was better than being left behind. Lan Zhan didn’t know why he thought that in the dreams, even though he was young, he had already begun to learn the teachings of his family. Giving up was not in any of the rules he had learned so far, but he hadn’t learned them all yet.

But...surely, letting the boy die must have been against the rules? It felt wrong to him like his body was being wrenched apart and everything going cold. He never felt anything when the boy died, like the boy was the sun and the moment he died was the moment the rest of the world died. 

Lan Zhan should have been scared of the dreams, and he had been at first until the fairy began to visit him. She taught him secret spells so he wouldn’t be afraid. Sometimes they worked and sometimes they didn’t. But she had taught him a secret spell so he would always wake up. 

He had to remember that they were just dreams, bad memories that couldn’t hurt him. The dark dreams weren’t real and they would never be real.

Zhanzhan, none of this will come to pass. The silver fairy had told him during the first night he had dreamt these dark dreams, her silver eyes the same hue as the boy. You don’t have to worry about these dreams. They are just bad dreams and dreams are nothing but lessons for us. In dreams, we can make mistakes and learn from them. They are not reality, they are not real. Remember that and do not confuse what is true with what is false.

But, he wanted the silver-eyed boy to not be a dream. Lan Zhan wanted the silver-eyed boy to live and smile and laugh. The silver-eyed boy wasn’t meant to look so sad.

The question never tumbled from his lips. He wanted to ask about the boy and if he was dreaming the same dreams. Or if the boy dreamt of Lan Zhan dying. He didn’t like that thought and he didn’t want to know the answer — not if it meant knowing that the boy suffered. 

Only one of them should be suffering. And Lan Zhan could be strong enough for both of them. 

He’d grow big and strong and then he’d find the boy and take him back to Cloud Recesses. The silver-eyed boy would be safe there, within the walls and wards of Gusu. There would be no smell of blood, no ash or fire that darkened the sky. Only the clean air of the mountains.

Lan Zhan would keep the silver-eyed boy safe.

*

***

*

“A-Zhan, wake up.” Lan Huan’s cheerful voice filled the Hanshi. “A-Zhan, Uncle sent for us. We’re going to Lotus Pier with some of the senior and junior disciples.”

Lan Zhan blinked at the sight of his elder brother standing over him from where he had fallen asleep on a pillow in the Hanshi. Lan Huan’s golden eyes sparkled with happiness as he clasped his hands tightly in front of him, no doubt in an attempt to hold back his excitement. He sat up from where he had been napping, he and his brother were young enough that they were still allowed this indulgence. 

“Mn.” Lan Zhan frowned slightly as he tugged on his brother’s robes, pointing at the chests full of their belongings and clothing.“Dage?”

The question was clear. What were they supposed to bring to Lotus Pier?

“Ahh, don’t worry, A-Zhan.” The ever-present smile on Lan Huan’s face seemed to grow even wider as he helped his younger brother off the bed.“The junior disciples are going to take care of our luggage.”

“Mn?” Lan Zhan glanced down at his own robes in thought after he had made it to the floor. If the disciples were going to pack for them, how long were they going to be at Lotus Pier? Was it too much for them to pack? Though, Lan Zhan knew he wouldn’t be able to carry much himself, aside from a qiankun pouch. But how much were they going to bring and how many disciples were going?

“I’m not sure how long we’re staying.” Lan Huan smiled beatifically as he pulled his younger brother toward the entrance of the Hanshi. “But I’m sure Uncle has something in mind for us and I think we might be staying for a while. The senior disciples were packing some of Uncle’s things and a lot of books. Ah!” Lan Huan clapped his hand over his mouth as he frowned. Had he just broken one of the rules? Could this be considered gossiping? He wasn’t sure, but it couldn’t be gossiping if he was sharing what he had seen, right? 

Lan Zhan tilted his head to the side, he didn’t know why they were going to Lotus Pier. Maybe there were books and things that Uncle wanted to show them? But he wasn’t going to complain, he liked spending time with his family and he liked flying on a sword. 

He couldn’t wait till he had his own to fly through the sky and so that he could find the silver-eyed boy.

“Shuren-ge said that he and Zhihao-ge were going to take us ahead of everyone else.” Lan Huan continued speaking, easily filling the silence left by his younger brother. “I read that Lotus Pier is built on a huge lake, right on the water! It’ll be so different from Cloud Recesses, I think it’s exciting. I think the waters are warmer there too, so I don’t think they have any cold springs, but it would be fun to experience something different. Ah! Do you think that’s why Uncle wants us to go? To experience something different?”

Lan Zhan only hummed in response as he walked alongside his brother, happily holding onto his hand. He didn’t care much about how different Lotus Pier would be from Cloud Recesses. Uncle was there and Lan Huan was going with him. That was good enough for him.

Chapter Text

After A-Ying had half tumbled out of the bathtub and into A-Cheng’s unsteady arms (splashing water and soap everywhere in the process) with a loud yelp, the nursemaid had come running into the chamber, her eyes confused by there suddenly being two Young Masters drenched with soapy water rather than just the one. To her credit, the young nursemaid Jia Xinyue had merely tied back the sleeves of her robes and set to work quickly drying both of the young boys. No harsh reprimands fell from her lips, only soft words in between the gentle humming of a melody. Once they were both dry, she had dressed them in matching robes of purple. 

The robes were soft against A-Ying’s skin and he rubbed his face into the fabric of his sleeve as the nursemaid patted his hair dry with a towel. A-Cheng had been spared (or lost out) on having his hair combed by the nursemaid, he had remained remarkably dry and he sat in front of his new brother, chattering away about everything they would do in Lotus Pier. It was only when the nursemaid moved to sit by one of the windows (and trays of deliciously spicy food had been delivered) and work on some embroidery were the two boys able to properly talk.

And by properly talking, it was actually for A-Cheng to launch a veritable missile at his new brother.

“Mama said she grew you in a cave.” A-Cheng had ignored his food in favor of sliding closer to A-Ying, his stormy grey eyes wide and waiting. “What was the cave-like?”

“Ah?” A-Ying tilted his head as he set down his chopsticks on the tray in front of him, thinking back to the cave where Wei Wuxian had jumped through time and space. “I guess?”

“She didn’t?” Immediately, A-Cheng’s lips curved downwards in a frown and his brow furrowed. 

The sight tugged at A-Ying’s heart (and deep inside of his mind, Wei Wuxian wept) and his hands spasmed momentarily. There was a twist of shadows in the corner of the bed. 

“No, she did,” assured A-Ying as he picked up his chopsticks again to tame the twitching of his hands. “She brought me from a cave.” 

That wasn’t a lie. A-Ying had no issues lying, but he didn’t want to lie to A-Cheng. Not after everything. He wanted to be nothing but loyal and true to A-Cheng. He wouldn’t allow misunderstandings and lies to poison their relationship, not in this life.

“I knew it.” A-Cheng nodded seriously. “Mama said you had to stay in the cave so you could be safe. But you’re safe and you’re here now and I’m happy.” 

“Yeah?” A-Ying poked shyly at the pieces of pork floating in the spicy lotus soup. He didn’t know what to do with this change in behavior from Madam Yu — his adoptive mother now. It was as if she truly loved him in this world. 

Even after everything, he wanted that. He wanted a mother. He wanted a father. He didn’t want to grow up an orphan, to always be desperately searching for crumbs of affection. Maybe he was being selfish and greedy, but the taste of happiness he had glimpsed (before it had all been destroyed) had left him starving for it. Before, he had been content with starving, with being given whatever he was allowed. But now he wanted more.

“Of course!” A-Cheng was loud, as loud as he was in the memories of Wei Wuxian, as he reassured his new brother. “I’m going to make sure you’re safe and get lots of sunlight so we can grow up to be big and strong together.”

“Really?” A-Ying hid the emotion in his voice by deciding to tease A-Cheng, poking the younger boy in the forehead. “But I’m older, so that means I have to take care of you.” 

A-Cheng didn’t let out a cry of annoyance, but he did scrunch up his face. Shaking his head and shoving A-Ying gently as he pretended not to add more pork to A-Ying’s bowl from his.

“No, we take care of each other. Mama said so.” A-Cheng was stubborn as he corrected his silly older brother. “She said we’re gonna be the Twin Lotuses of Yunmeng.” 

Their mother had said that both of them needed to watch out for each other and when he had spoken to Nurse Xiao about how much older his Gege was than him, she had explained they were born close enough to be called twins. So! That automatically made him and his brother much better than other sets of brothers because they were twins and they would always be together no matter what. Nurse Xiao was a twin too, but she was a girl like Jiejie. That wasn’t the same.

“The Twin Lotuses…” A-Ying’s voice trailed off and he would be lying if he said his eyes weren’t watering. No, it wasn’t that he was going to cry, it was just that chili fumes had somehow gotten into his eyes. They had never bothered him before but for some reason, they were now.

“You don’t like it?” A-Cheng blinked, not disappointed, but worried that his new brother wasn’t as excited as he was. What if he was the only one happy to have a twin? 

“I do!” A-Ying choked out, his eyes watering even more as he began to blink furiously. He wasn’t going to cry. “I’m happy.”

“Then why are you crying, Gege?” A-Cheng reached out his small hand and wiped at A-Ying’s tears, worry seeping into his voice. 

A-Ying shook his head, ignoring his traitorous tears as he rubbed at his other eye. He had been betrayed by his own body, but he couldn’t be mad about it. 

“Because I’m too happy, Didi.” A-Ying’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper and A-Cheng would never have heard him if they hadn’t been sitting so closely together. “Really, really happy.”

“I’m happy too, Gege, but you don’t need to cry.” A-Cheng beamed at A-Ying, sure and content with every fiber of his being. “It’s okay. We’re all together now. And when Jiejie comes back, everything will be perfect.”

“My Didi is so smart!” A-Ying crowed happily, tossing his arms around A-Cheng (again) and toppled him (again, but this time on the bed).

“Ah, Gege!” A-Cheng giggled, too happy to be anything else.

“Young Masters!” Jia Xinyue looked up from her embroidery, setting it aside as she moved toward them. “What happened?” 

“Nothing!” Both of the boys chirped immediately.

The nursemaid stared at them for a long moment, glancing between the empty bowls on their trays and the tight hug that they were both in. She would have to let Madam Yu know later about how taken the two boys were with each other. It was as if they had always been brothers.

“I see.” Jia Xinyue shook her head, a fond smile on her face as she began to move the trays from the bed. “Then, if nothing has happened, I’ll just take these trays away. Why don’t the two of you lay down to sleep and I’ll wake you in time for dinner.”

There was no wasted movement as Jia Xinyue prepared the room, and the two boys, for their nap. Curtains had been drawn around the bed and she had even lit a few sticks of incense (lotus and cinnamon) to help lull them into a peaceful sleep. There wasn’t much that she had to do, though, not after the hot bath and the delicious food. Both boys were young enough that they were already dozing off before she even left the room. 

A-Cheng fell asleep first. A-Ying remained awake, fighting the desire to sleep.

His arms thrown around A-Cheng, A-Ying and Wei Wuxian stared at the younger boy sleeping in his — their — arms. Just being around A-Cheng, his Chengcheng, his Didi had calmed the raging torrent inside of his mind. He didn’t have to fight to figure out if he was A-Ying or if he was Wei Wuxian or if he was simply resentful energy given human form. A-Cheng was a lantern in the storm that was A-Ying. 

His brother, his precious and beloved brother. He had ripped out his own Golden Core for A-Cheng, but this time? A-Cheng was never going to lose his Golden Core, they would make sure of it. 

Crimson seeped into A-Ying’s eyes, not completely overtaking the silver hue, but dancing within it. Spiritual power and something else, not resentful energy, but something , began to fill the room. It was a steady and rising pressure, the source of it being A-Ying. His skin glowed, or rather, there was a glow emanating from underneath his skin. As if there was a star attempting to break free from his body as if the power his childish body could barely hold was beginning to shatter the vessel it was trapped in. 

But there was no breaking. There was no threat of his existence snapping and shattering, not when there was a steady outpouring of power. 

Between the two boys was a golden thread, visible and perfect and entirely impossible, made solely of power. It was something that a child of barely six years of age shouldn’t have been capable of, something that shouldn’t even have been able to occur. Something that neither Madam Yu nor Lord Jiang nor Lord Lan had considered. He was feeding A-Cheng his power, the much smaller Golden Core of the younger boy (the child who hadn’t jumped through time and the vestiges of space) steadily beginning to grow. To become stronger. 

It was something that, when done by matured cultivators, would augment a Golden Core for a few hours. But not permanently. 

But, the two boys were different. A-Ying was different and, so was A-Cheng. A-Cheng had already been given Wei Wuxian’s Golden Core, it had merged and become one with his soul. Just because this A-Cheng didn’t bear Wei Wuxian’s Golden Core didn’t mean the connection wasn’t there. It didn’t mean that A-Ying’s body and Golden Core and the other pools of power wouldn’t recognize A-Cheng.

And after, when the starlight emanating from his body had faded and he felt less like his very existence was teetering on the edge, A-Ying’s eyes slid shut. The crimson in his eyes slipped back into dormancy.

He was going to be Jiang Ying. Wei Wuxian had already lived and suffered, it was Jiang Ying’s turn to search for happiness.

*

***

*

Yu Ziyuan oversaw the flurry of servants working furiously in one of the courtyards of the inner palace, specifically, the courtyard adjacent to the one occupied by her family. The inner palace of Lotus Pier was not as largely populated as the inner clan dwellings of the Lan Clan or, spirits forbid, the Carp Tower of the Jin Clan. There were a few elders who dwelled within the inner palace, but no one as young as the Young Masters of the Lan Clan. When it came to suitable playmates of their own age, her children had none. And she doubted she would be able to keep her oldest son, albeit a prince and the heir of an Immortal, from playing with the commoners in the streets of Yunmeng. 

In all honesty, she wouldn’t prohibit A-Ying from doing so, nor would she stop A-Cheng or A-Li. 

Which meant she would have to somehow ensure their safety while they were off playing in the streets. Lotus Pier was safe, but that didn’t mean accidents couldn’t happen. Especially considering who A-Ying was. His identity as a six-year-old Imperial Prince descended from the Immortal Consort made the outside world incredibly dangerous. Anything could happen to him and the moment news of his residence in Lotus Pier got out, no matter if he now bore the name Jiang, so many would begin their plots and plans in order to get him in their grasp. Or to kill him.  

While she was considering how to juggle the patrol schedules along the streets outside of Lotus Pier, and then throughout the rest of Yunmeng, a spicy and lovely scent wafted past her. It was more delicate than the usual scents that filled the palace of Lotus Pier, hints of cinnabar and cinnamon with promises of lotus petals. Entirely wonderful and beautiful, but totally wrong.

“No, no , didn’t you hear me when I said no strong scents?” Yu Ziyuan called out as she turned her head to glare at the passing servants. That would be a horrible punishment for the young Lans, if it had just been Lan Qiren, then she would have been tempted to let it go.

“Beg pardon, Madam,” replied the servant, Xiao Lei’s brother, Xiao Hai, as he stepped closer to her with the tray he carried. There was a small group of servants behind him, carrying similar trays. “I had thought these were weak enough for the young masters.” 

Xiao Hai was one of the servants of the inner palace, a talented herbalist who would no doubt be a master in a few years' time. The Xiao twins were both as delicate and demure as lotuses, Xiao Lei having the patience of a saint when it came to young children and Xiao Hai having a near-encyclopedic knowledge when it came to herbs. Yu Ziyuan didn’t know if his tutelage in the more poisonous herbs had reached fruition. She had the gut feeling that those talents would be needed in the not so far future. 

“Those are definitely too strong for Lan noses, especially if the Lan in question are children.” Yu Ziyuan pinched the bridge of her nose as she shook her head, making sure to soften her voice as she continued. “Find some sandalwood and bring that instead.”

“Yes, Madam.” Xiao Hai bowed carefully, still holding onto the tray before he elegantly turned and left the courtyard. 

Really, there was something to be said about the quiet elegance of the Xiao twins. Yu Ziyuan hoped that A-Cheng and A-Ying would learn from Xiao Lei, just as A-Li had learned from the nursemaid. With what she knew of the not-future, Yu Ziyuan was sure it would be an uphill battle with her raucous sons.

“Madam, where should we place these?” Another servant stopped in front of her, a group of servants behind him carried various cinnabar vases and statuettes in their arms. The crimson shades were vivid against the purple dyes of Yunmeng robes. 

“Put them in one of the storage rooms for now.” A statuette of a small rabbit caught Yu Ziyuan’s eye and a not-memory flashed in her mind. “Wait, place that rabbit carving in A-Ying’s room.”

“Madam, there’s another rabbit carving!” Another servant cried out, this one from the back of the group as they moved up to show her the cinnabar rabbit.

It looked to be like it was a matching pair of the first rabbit carving that had caught her eye. One was half standing, nose inquisitively in the air, and the other was curled into itself. The picture of perfect serenity. Yes, Yu Ziyuan would have to bring rabbits to Lotus Pier. Yu Ziyuan fooled herself, by telling herself that having rabbits would help teach A-Cheng to move gently and quietly, that it would fill A-Ying’s days with things that weren’t terrible thoughts and that placing them under the purview of A-Li would help teach her responsibility. Yes, it wasn’t that she was spoiling her children with cute animals. Perish the thought.

“Perfect, take that one there to A-Ying’s room too.” Yu Ziyuan paused for a moment, unsure if she would be overstepping with her next command. Even so, she continued, albeit in a softer and fonder tone of voice. “Check to see if there’s anything with rabbits suitable for children in the storage rooms and place them in the rooms of the Young Masters of the Lan Clan.” 

“Right away!” 

Once that matter was taken care of, she wanted to make sure there would be nothing lacking in the study of her new ally and that meant giving more orders.

“Pay extra attention to the study adjacent to Lord Lan’s chambers. Whatever he requires, find it for him.” Yu Ziyuan spoke to one of the servants following her as walked towards the study, sliding the door open to look at the pristine room. “Treat him as you would a member of my family.”

During their conversation in the pavilion, they had discussed many things and started laying out the foundations for future plans. Lan Qiren’s stay would be easily explained via the presence of A-Ying and the whitest of lies: that it had been the dying wish of Cangse Sanren to see her friends raise her son. So, Lan Qiren would step in to be A-Ying’s (and A-Cheng’s) godfather and the Jiangs would then repay that kindness by stepping in as godparents for the two Lan heirs as well. 

Careful rumors would help spread that information in exactly the way they wanted it to. As it was, Yu Ziyuan already had servants attending to that matter.

That close relationship between the Main Families of the two clans would be an easy cover for an interchange of disciples and the multitude of visits that would begin. Young Masters of their ages wouldn’t be allowed to travel alone, of course, a retinue of disciples would travel with them. And if those disciples would spend their time training and sharing techniques with other disciples, well then, that would just be sheer coincidence. It wasn’t as if the Jiang and Lan Clans were going to start slowly and secretly preparing themselves for any eventuality of war. Of course not. 

And if they began to further invest into the development (and perhaps fortification) of their lands, well , wasn’t it their duty as Lords to ensure the happiness and safety of their people? Not only their physical and spiritual well-being but also their financial well-being. Yunmeng Jiang had so many waterways, after all, so many merchants passed through the towns and villages of Yunmeng that it was difficult to keep count of them all. Who knew what those merchants would be carrying and selling? 

One of the events they were unsure of how to prepare for was one which hadn’t even occurred in the not-future. There was no telling how or when the Imperial Court would find out about A-Ying — and if they would make any demands. It was foolish to think that they wouldn’t, the Imperial Court was haughty and overreaching, believing that they had any say in the realm of cultivators. To hand A-Ying over to them was tantamount to handing him — and themselves — a death sentence. No, there was little that could truly be done, other than making things difficult for the Imperial Court. And that, at least, was something the cultivation clans had much experience in. Specifically, the Qishan Wen. But, none among them dared owe the Qishan Wen a debt, not with the knowledge of the not-future.

All three of them had agreed that the longer they were able to keep Wen Ruohan’s interest away from A-Ying, the safer he (and by extension, all of them) would be. 

Which made one of their plans infinitely more difficult: an investigation into the Burial Mounds of Yiling. 

The Burial Mounds were on Wen land (and while they had been closed off and for all intents and purposes, abandoned ) and that made any potential foray and investigation into that area incredibly dangerous on a variety of levels. There was not only the political ramifications of the disciples of two other sects investigating the land ruled by another sect without permission or invitation but there was also the danger of raising clan interest in the very existence of the Burial Mounds. Especially if, as Yu Ziyuan suspected, the resentful energy had gone dormant (or at least had been tamed) due to the presence of A-Ying. Just as had happened in the village near where she had found him. 

Jiang Fengmian had gone off to search through reports and instructed some of the senior disciples to look into the village carefully . Which also meant investigating that damned statue of that damned Cangse Sanren. How on earth does one even turn into a statue, to begin with? Was that something in the purview of Immortals and would she have to worry about such a thing even be possible with her A-Ying? 

If only Baoshan Sanren were easier to find...they would have to do their best to track down the Immortal Consort, even if Yu Ziyuan doubted they would even succeed. It was better to try and fail than to never try and to always have that niggling doubt in the back of their minds. If they found Baoshan Sanren, then that would take at least one worry off their shoulders. None of them had any idea how to raise a child Immortal and for all that Cangse Sanren had talked about during their school days, the woman had been remarkably tight-lipped about her childhood. As well as saying very little about the differences between her own body and that of cultivators, though, Yu Ziyuan had her suspicions. There were simply things that made no sense, including the most obvious of things. Cangse Sanren had looked as if she was no older than 15 or 16, but the Immortal Consort had last been seen (in the Imperial Palace, after giving birth to said annoyance) over almost a good two hundred years ago. 

There had been a time Cangse Sanren had disappeared for days on end without any food, meditating in a waterfall and having lost all track of passing time. And then there was the time a Fierce Corpse had bitten a chunk of flesh out of her arm and the woman had barely reacted to it. There were so many ridiculous instances that were so intrinsically Cangse Sanren that Yu Ziyuan had never known how to disentangle them from the woman. 

In fact, if she compared it to how she found A-Ying and the not-memories of Wei Wuxian, what she knew of Cangse Sanren was remarkably similar to how her son was. Was it possible that Cangse Sanren had been an Immortal in the not-memories as well? Was that how Wei Wuxian had survived the Burial Mounds twice?
Yu Ziyuan let out a frustrated sigh as pressure began to build up in her temple again. Even massaging the area with her fingers did nothing, it had to be the stress building up again, compounded with the tension from the hazy not-memories floating around in the back of her mind....perhaps requesting a few sessions of the Song of Cleansing for herself wouldn’t be amiss. Nowhere near the intensity required for A-Ying, but enough to just settle her own tumultuous thoughts and emotions. 

*

***

*

Gossip traveled fast and even faster within a palace. It was simply a matter of saying the right thing at the right time and place to the right person. Often, the greatest hubs for hearing rumors would be within the kitchen, amongst the laundry maids, or in the sewing rooms. 

“What’s going on in the inner palace?” One of the maids in the embroidery room, Huo Yijun, paused in her needlework as she glanced out the open window. “Everyone is running like crazy.”

“You didn’t hear?” Another maid, Wu Yating, looked up, obviously smug and delighted as she tied a knot in the piece she had been working on. 

All of the maids were furiously working on new sets of robes that had just been ordered by Madam Yu. It wasn’t just robes that had been ordered, but a full wardrobe. Winter robes and summer robes, fine robes for dining and formalities, robes for training, and robes for playing in the lake waters. An entire wardrobe with no expense to be spared, clearly, it was to be a gift for someone of great importance. Some great Young Master or Young Lady, most likely. There had been some whispers of maybe the robes being for the Young Master Jin, the Young Lady’s fiancee, but why would it be ordered all in Yunmeng colors? Later, they had found out who the robes were for, right as they had begun to set their needles to work. The little urchin Madam Yu had brought into the inner palace. None of the maids in the sewing rooms knew why.

“Obviously not if I’m asking you.” Huo Yijun rolled her eyes as she continued to work the fabric stretched across a frame in front of her with her needle and thread held delicately. Pale purple lotuses were beginning to take shape across the fabric, blooming across the dark purple silk as if it were a lotus lake in the middle of the night. 

Wu Yating spoke casually as she tied another knot, “Lords of the Lan Sect are coming to stay.”

“In the inner palace ?” Huo Yijun nearly dropped her needle, hissing as she pricked her finger. “Why?”

Guests from the visiting sects and clans never stayed in the inner palace. That was entirely unheard of. The inner palace was reserved for family members, even the Young Lady’s fiancee was not allowed to stay in the inner palace when he came to visit (rare occasions, at that).

“You know that child that the Madam brought in?” Wu Yating studied the piece of silk in front of her, it was such a dark purple that it was almost black. The perfect background for the pale lotuses in varying shades of purple and pink that she had embroidered. “That little stick of a thing?” It was that little stick of thing that the robes they were all working on so furiously were for. “Well, apparently, and I heard this from one of the nursemaids, he’s our new Young Master. The First Young Master of Lotus Pier.” 

Carefully, she began to remove the silk from its place on the embroidery frame and folded it delicately. Wu Yating set it on the table next to her before she stood to fetch another length of silk and prepared it for embroidering.

“Well, would you look at that!” The other maids in the embroidery had dropped all pretense of not listening in on their conversation and various cries of disbelief filled the air. “And what happens to our first Young Master?” 

For her part, Wu Yating remained as serene as the surface of a lake. She was entirely sure in her knowledge and proud to be one of the first to spread it. It had come, after all, from one of the nursemaids in the inner palace.

“That’s the best part.” Wu Yating shook her head, a smile on her face as she continued sharing the absolutely juicy and incredulous gossip she had heard. “The Madam is raising them as brothers , even more so, as twins . Apparently, they were born a few days apart. Do you remember that Wei Changze and Cangse Sanren?” 

“The Hidden Princess, of course, I do!” Huo Yijun cried out, her eyes glazing over for a moment as she imagined herself as an immortal princess flying on her sword through the clouds. “Why on earth would she run away with a servant when she could have had her pick of any lord or prince?”

“Well, apparently she knew what we didn’t.” Wu Yating paused for a moment, to build up the tension before she dropped the juiciest bit of knowledge she had learned from the nursemaid. “Wei Changze is Lord Jiang’s brother.” 

There was a sudden vacuum in the embroidery room, a moment of silence so loud that the lake sounds filled the room. The soft movement of the silken threads, as they swayed in the air, became a loud and incessant noise. And then the silence was broken.

“A bastard .” Various voices broke the silence, all saying the same thing. “A noble bastard. Who would have thought the old Lord had it in him.”

“Even better than a secret bastard,” Wu Yating continued, her voice even more smug than before, “a lineal son who had been kidnapped and then raised in secret.”

“ Well! ” Huo Yijun sat down in her seat with a thump , unsure when exactly she had even stood up. “Never say Lotus Pier is boring, of all things.”

There was another moment of silence, which Wu Yating spent entirely smug and proud of herself as she started on another piece of embroidery on the silk before her.
“Wait, but how does the Lan Sect have anything to do with this?” Another maid, a younger one, spoke up. Her voice was unsure and trembling as she edged forward. “Is the little prince engaged to one of them?”

“From what I heard-” Wu Yating opened her mouth to explain, only to be, rather rudely, interrupted.

“From this mysterious nursemaid?” Huo Yijun grumbled as she rather viciously tied off some needlework. She wasn’t as lucky as the Hidden Princess or her royal son or her servant husband who turned out to not be a servant at all! “Who is she, anyways?”

“I’m not revealing my sources.” Wu Yating huffed as she leveled a heatless glare at Huo Yijun. “Now, do you want the gossip or not?”

“Fine, fine.” 

“So! Lord Lan agreed to be the godfather of our two Young Masters and then Lord Jiang and Madam Yu agreed to be the godparents of the Lan’s two Young Masters.” The new piece Wu Yating was working on was a black robe of fine silk, silver lotuses, and crimson spider lilies would look lovely on it. “Apparently, it was the princess’s dying wish for the First Young Master to be raised by her friends. I guess Madam Yu didn’t hate her after all, if she did, why would she take in the princess’s son and treat him as her own?”

*

***

*

The journey from Cloud Recesses had been an easy one since they hadn’t had to wait for any of the other disciples. Lan Shuren and Lan Zhihao had taken charge of Lan Zhan and his brother, carrying the two Young Masters in their arms as they raced through the skies on their swords. The two older disciples had been talking most of the journey, pointing out sights and waypoints to the two younger boys. 

Lan Huan had been eagerly asking questions about everything that caught his eye and everything that had been pointed out. Shuren-ge and Zihao-ge had been happy to explain. Lan Zhan had been content to silently stay in Shuren-ge’s arms, he was the quieter of the two. The youngest of the four Lans was notorious for being as quiet as a rabbit, and it was well known amongst the inner disciples that he was just as skittish. 

Thankfully, the two older disciples were also close cousins and Lan Zhan had grown up around them. That allowed him to tolerate being carried by someone for the several hour long journey. Lan Huan, being a few years older, had gotten to stand on the sword for an hour before Zihao-ge had picked him up. 

Lan Zhan would never admit that he had begun to doze off when they had crossed into Yunmeng’s territory. But, he would admit that there was something beautiful about Lotus Pier as the setting sun bathed it in a warm glow. The lake waters glimmered like molten gold and the blooming lotuses were tiny jewels, all of them delicate and perfect. There were a few boats on the surface of the lake, but the lake, spirits above , continued on forever and forever. It was the largest expanse of water Lan Zhan had ever seen. 

The lake of Lotus Pier was bigger than any of the lakes they had flown over (Yunmeng’s lakes had already been bigger than anything he had seen within Gusu) and Lan Zhan didn’t know how there could be something so big and perfect. He was used to the mountains of Gusu, tall and proud and jagged, but Yunmeng, and Lotus Pier, were entirely different. While Cloud Recesses was secluded and hidden, like the wondrous palaces of Immortals floating amongst the clouds, Lotus Pier was the opposite. 

Lotus Pier was like a pair of welcoming arms, no less beautiful than his home in Gusu, but strangely so. The palace sprawled across the edge of the lake, half on land and half on water, and a city had sprung up around most of the palace. 

Lan Zhan couldn’t help but let his imagination run wild, perhaps there were Immortals living underneath the surface of the lake or even within Lotus Pier itself. If Cloud Recesses was the palace of Immortals within the heavens, then Lotus Pier had to be the palace of Immortals who ruled over the waters and rivers. He was dazed by the thought of it, something wondrous and amazing and adventurous and he allowed his mind to build palaces made out of soft clouds. 

When Lan Zhan found the silver-eyed boy who lived within his dreams, he would take him to Lotus Pier. 

*

***

*

“Young Master, please try to stay awake.” There was a smothered smile in Jia Xinyue’s voice as she gently chided the First Young Master of Lotus Pier sitting on the bed in front of her. “You can go back to sleep after dinner if you’re still tired.” 

Xiao Lei didn’t even try to stifle her giggle, the Second Young Master had been much easier to dress and she was already redoing the Jiang braids in his hair. The Second Young Master always woke up quickly and easily, but it seemed like the same wasn’t true for the First Young Master. It was rather adorable to see the differences between the two. 

“Mmmghf,” responded A-Ying eventually as he was beginning to slump back into a puddle of sleep, “m’wanna sleep.” 

“Gege needs a lot of sleep,” A-Cheng wisely intoned as he sat as still as possible for Xiao Lei. 

The two nursemaids exchanged smiles over the heads of their charges. 

“That he does,” Xiao Lei agreed as she pinned back one of the braids and stage whispered to A-Cheng, “do you think you’ll be able to help him stay awake? It would be very sad if he fell asleep in his food and got his new clothes dirty.”

Some of the robes ordered by Madam Yu had been finished in time for dinner. Truly, the maids of the sewing rooms had worked quickly and furiously in order to finish these sets. Perhaps it helped that the two Young Masters were nearly identical in size. 

The two Young Masters looked perfect and lovely in their matching robes of vivid purple with embroidered lotuses in a lilac thread. There was only one key difference, in their robes, the First Young Master’s Clarity Bell hadn’t been finished yet. That was something that couldn’t be rushed, but hopefully, he would be able to wear his soon. Then they would truly be matching.

“Mmhm!” A-Cheng nearly nodded his head before he remembered that Xiao Lei was tending to his hair and froze, eyes wide and ears going red. 

“Just a bit more, Young Master,” Jia Xinyue sighed as she finished tending to the First Young Master’s robes before moving to his hair. Perhaps something simple. “I’ll be as quick as I can, okay?”

“Mmmgrf,” yawned A-Ying as he pointed to the crimson ribbon that had been placed on a nearby table hours ago before he had taken his bath. “Want my ribbon.” 

Jia Xinyue simply hummed as she took the crimson ribbon, weaving it elegantly into his hair so as to hold the Jiang braids in place. 

At long last, the two boys were finally ready for the evening meal and to greet the guests who had arrived (guests who the nursemaids hadn’t mentioned to the two boys). A-Cheng tugged the still sleepy A-Ying behind him as they walked in the direction of the family dining area, not the grand hall meant for impressing guests and grand feasts. The two nursemaids followed closely behind.

*

***

*

Lan Zhan trailed behind Lan Huan as they were led by a servant through the walkways of the inner palace to the Jiang family dining room. Upon arriving, they had been whisked away to their rooms (in the inner palace as well) and been given time to freshen up in the courtyard they had been assigned. He had been quietly pleased to see that his room overlooked a patch of lotus flowers and even more delighted when he realized that there had been a pond full of the same flowers in the courtyard and then ecstatic when he saw the bunnies in his room. 

There had been a painted scroll of a small group of white rabbits looking up at the moon on one wall and then a sleeping rabbit carved out of white Jade sat on one of the low tables. Lan Zhan had been practically vibrating from happiness. He didn’t think he would see any rabbits in Yunmeng, but this further cemented the land in his heart. 

This was a good place. He had to bring the silver-eyed boy here. There were bunnies. 

Lan Huan almost had to drag him out of the room, tugging at his hand and speaking softly. But, Lan Zhan knew how important it was to behave and so he followed his brother out of the room. They hadn’t even greeted their uncle yet (or Lord Jiang or Madam Yu) which he found strange, but maybe it was Yunmeng custom? He wasn’t sure. 

It was while he was lost in his thoughts (Lan Huan was keeping up a steady stream of questions directed at the servant guiding them) when they had stepped into a much larger courtyard then the one they were staying in. There were two children, in silk robes of rich purple with pale lotuses blooming across the fabric, walking into the courtyard from a different direction. Obviously, they were members of the Jiang Main Family or a close branch family, otherwise, he didn’t think they would be in the inner palace. One of the boys was tugging the other behind him, chattering nonstop as the other yawned. Lan Zhan was about to look away when the second boy lowered his hand and he suddenly forgot how to breathe.

It was him . The silver-eyed boy was standing in front of him, entirely too real and right within his reach. He looked different than how he was in the dreams (and Lan Zhan was eternally grateful for the lack of blood covering him) in those Yunmeng robes. Yet, he was still the same. Lan Zhan recognized him immediately like a lightning strike had descended and set every single bit of him on fire. And then the boy had turned, the crimson ribbon in his hair fluttering in the breeze, and those painfully beautiful silver eyes widened. 

Lan Zhan didn’t know when he had moved, or how he had gotten across the courtyard that quickly. All he knew was that his arms were around the silver-eyed boy from his dreams and both of them were crying and the silver-eyed boy knew his name and Lan Zhan felt like every single piece that had been missing had been slotted back into place. Everything was right in the world and he could finally breathe , whatever he was doing before hadn’t been existing. He had to have been simply floating through the world because of this? This was something he didn’t have the words for, not with his six-year-old vocabulary. All Lan Zhan knew was that he was alive because the silver-eyed boy was and he was right here all along .

“I found you. You’re real.” Lan Zhan whispered as he held onto the silver-eyed boy tightly, hot tears trailing down his cheeks. “You’re really here. I’m so happy— I don’t, I don’t want to let go. Please don’t leave. Please don’t be a dream.” 

People were speaking, but Lan Zhan wasn’t paying attention to them. He was paying attention to the silver-eyed boy. The boy who had always been dying whenever Lan Zhan dreamt, only now he wasn’t dying and Lan Zhan wasn’t sleeping. The silver-eyed boy was speaking, his voice soft and nearly sobbing but oh so happy.

“I’m here, your A-Ying is here.” The silver-eyed boy, A-Ying, A-Ying , held onto Lan Zhan tightly. “I’m not leaving. I’m not ever leaving.” 

Those words practically made Lan Zhan glow, nearly turning him into a miniature sun. He was relieved and he could almost keep crying, Lan Zhan was incandescently happy. He was — he was so happy that he didn’t care what else happened. Anything could happen, the world could break around them and he would be entirely content, so long as he could keep holding A-Ying and A-Ying kept smiling up at him. 

A-Ying. His A-Ying. 

Did the fairy know that A-Ying was real? Lan Zhan couldn’t bring himself to be mad at her for not telling him he was in Lotus Pier — later, if he saw her again, he would complain to her. But not now, Lan Zhan didn’t have a single complaint at the moment. 

*

***

*

Lan Qiren’s nephew refused to let go of her A-Ying. The little brat was lucky he was cute and that she knew they were, for lack of a better word, soulmates. Even that word seemed too cheap and crass for the bond between them. But! They were babies. There was no reason for the Second Young Master of the Lan Clan to be imitating an octopus clinging to her eldest son. It wasn’t as if A-Ying were going to disappear into thin air — even if she did have similar worries, but that was not the point!

Yu Ziyuan didn’t care how adorable the children looked curled around each other, even A-Cheng had joined in on the chaos and was latched onto his brother’s free arm (and that Lan Xichen was sitting far too close to A-Cheng as they chattered on). When she had thrown a glare at her husband, he had stifled a fond chuckle as he welcomed the children. Betrayed by her own husband!

Lan Qiren was no better, the man was disgustingly doting (as doting as the rule-following Lans could be) on his nephews and he had nearly melted at the sight of Lan Wangji pulling A-Ying by the hand into the dining room. Lan Xichen had trotted in after them, talking animatedly with A-Cheng and she was going to keep an eye on him too. It was one thing if one Lan stole one of her children, she wasn’t going to allow them to steal a second. 

The infuriating man (he was no longer her ally, he was a traitor ) didn’t even reprimand Lan Xichen for speaking during a meal. Yu Ziyuan completely disregarded the fact that they were at Lotus Pier and not Cloud Recesses. 

Yu Ziyuan would draw the line at the ribbons. The moment that Lan Wangji even began to untie his forehead ribbon, she would sweep A-Ying into her arms. It was too early for her son to be anything other than a child, this was his chance to be carefree and loved — familial love . She refused to entertain any engagements until A-Ying was at least twenty five. In fact, none of her children were going to marry until after twenty-five. That was it, she had decided. A-Li might already have her own engagement and A-Ying may have found his soulmate, but that just meant she had to be even more watchful in regards to A-Cheng. Maybe that Lan Xichen was innocent and was just speaking to him as Sect Heir to Sect Heir. Yes, that was it. 

While she had been cementing that thought in her mind, Lan Wangji had glanced in her direction and she could have sworn the little brat glared at her. Yu Ziyuan raised an eyebrow in his direction as if daring him to glare back. The little thief had already stolen her eldest son, was he capable of reading minds as well and had foreseen her plots to keep them apart until they were both adults?

Lan Wangji only snuggled further into A-Ying, settling his chin on A-Ying’s shoulder. A-Ying practically glowed (in fact, Yu Ziyuan was pretty sure there was a faint glow to his skin) as he rested his cheek against Lan Wangji’s head.

Damn it, they were cute after all. 

Chapter Text

There had been a cacophony of noise after Lan Zhan had thrown himself at the boy who had always been in his dreams. Attendants had been dashing about, someone had even cried, he thought. But it hadn’t mattered to him. Someone had smoothed everything over, quieting the disarray and disorder. No one had pulled him away from the silver-eyed boy, his A-Ying. Lan Zhan barely focused on the greetings with all of the people present, the members of the Jiang Clan and his own uncle. 

Only one thing mattered to him and that was the fact that the silver-eyed boy was safe and in his arms. He wasn’t dying over and over again in a place where Lan Zhan couldn’t reach him, he was smiling up happily at him as his silver eyes glowed in the light of the setting sun. 

Lan Zhan didn’t pay any notice to the quiet conversation around him, his older brother was speaking with the other boy, the heir to the Jiang Sect. A boy who bore grey eyes, eyes which were nearly silver, but not quite. His eyes were nearly the color of starlight, of mercury falling into a pool of half-melted snow, perfect and pristine. There wasn’t even a hint of red, that crimson hue that would always torment him in his dreams. 

For a moment, Lan Zhan was lost in the thought of those eyes and the reality that those silver eyes were in front of him. They were no longer somewhere out of his reach.

“My name is—”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan spoke, barely above a whisper as he spoke the name. 

He had never once said the name or heard it before, but it felt right. It felt truer than anything he had ever known in his short existence. Wei Ying. That was the boy’s name. That was the name he had called out when-

“Mn.” Wei Ying’s silver eyes crinkled, a wide and perfect smile was in place as he spoke. “But it’s Jiang Ying now. Jiang Wuxian? It sounds so strange…”

There was something wrong with that smile. It wasn’t the same smile as from earlier. There was doubt in the smile. Lan Zhan wasn’t sure why. Was it because he had known the name or was it because of something else? Did his Wei Ying think he only cared for Wei Ying and wouldn’t care for Jiang Ying? Lan Zhan could never be so fickle, it had always been Wei Ying for him. Even when it wasn’t Wei Ying.

Even when it was…

Lan Zhan frowned as he tightened his grip on his chopsticks. There had been something out of reach for him, a name in the back of his head. A face that was Wei Ying and yet wasn’t. Out of the corner of his eye, while he frowned at the milky white soup in front of him, Lan Zhan saw his Wei Ying visibly (to him) wilt. In reality, to any other observer, it would have been the equivalent of settling back on his cushion. Not to Lan Zhan, not to Lan Zhan who had spent all of his (admittedly quite short) life by Wei Ying’s side (albeit, while sleeping).

“Wei Ying is Wei Ying.” He glanced back up at Wei Ying as he quietly and carefully, so as to not jostle the trays of food before them, shuffled closer to him. “That is the only thing that matters. Wei Ying is always Wei Ying. Even if Wei Ying has different names.”

He didn’t even have to think before he reached out and wrapped his hand around Wei Ying’s free hand. Reassuring Wei Ying was a simple as breathing to Lan Zhan. There was also the added benefit of having that reassurance for himself as well, knowing that Wei Ying wasn’t going to disappear at any moment. Wei Ying hesitated for a moment, staring at their intertwined hands. Lan Zhan took that moment to move closer to him. 

“How do you know?” Wei Ying stared at him, silver eyes wide. “How can you be sure?” 

There was something terrible at the way Wei Ying looked at him as if Lan Zhan were to say a single word and he would disappear. That something was teetering on the edge behind Wei Ying’s silver eyes. 

“Eyes.” That was the only explanation Lan Zhan could give.

It was Wei Ying’s eyes, it would always be Wei Ying’s eyes. His eyes could never be compared to anyone else’s, even in the darkest of his dreams when those silver eyes had been overrun by crimson hatred, they were solely and entirely Wei Ying’s. 

“My eyes?” There was a slow, almost catlike blink before a brighter smile grew on Wei Ying’s face. “Is that how you know?” 

The smile was almost teasing, not mocking in any way, but joyful. Lan Zhan knew his answer had been correct and this was his prize for it, a smiling Wei Ying free of any shadowed doubt and misery.

This was a prize he would cherish and commit to memory.

“Mn.” Lan Zhan lowered his eyes after a few moments, his ears growing uncomfortably warm at the sight of Wei Ying’s smile. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to keep looking at Wei Ying, it was merely that...he felt as if his heart would burst out of his chest if he didn’t look away. This day had turned out far differently than he thought it would. Not even half a day ago he had been in Cloud Recesses, dreaming of a day when he would be able to search for Wei Ying on his own. And now? Wei Ying was sitting next to him, a smile on his face, and his silver eyes alight with happiness. What more could Lan Zhan want? What more could he possibly ask for that would not be greedy? 

If there was ever such a thing as asking for too much, he was afraid this would be that moment. All he wanted was to remain beside Wei Ying and he was afraid that would be too much, that he was asking too much for it. Before, when he hadn’t found Wei Ying, it had been easy to want so much. To want everything to do with Wei Ying, to take him back to Cloud Recesses and keep him hidden from everything and everyone who wanted to hurt him. 

To live where no one could ever hurt him and keep him safe, just like Mother in her house surrounded by gentians. 

But now? Lan Zhan was afraid.

“Anyone can have silver eyes.” Wei Ying nudged Lan Zhan with his elbow, mirth barely concealed in his voice. “So they’re really not just mine. Anyone can have them. What if there’s someone out there with prettier eyes than mine?” 

The frown that slipped onto Lan Zhan’s face was immediate, his lips twitching slightly downwards as he shook his head. He couldn’t imagine anyone’s eyes to be more beautiful than Wei Ying’s. The tutors and teachers of Cloud Recesses had explained that beauty was in the eye of the beholder, that although people could agree on certain factors, no one could decide who another would consider most beautiful. And for Lan Zhan, there was no question that the answer would always be Wei Ying. 

No one else. 

“Wei Ying’s eyes are Wei Ying’s eyes.” Lan Zhan drew in a slight breath, not glaring, but staring back at Wei Ying. “Only Wei Ying. No one else’s.” 

“Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying blushed at that, glancing away from Lan Zhan to stare at their brothers. “A-Cheng has silver eyes too. Silver, just like mine.” 

Lan Zhan followed Wei Ying’s line of sight as he hummed. His older brother was quite animated while speaking to Jiang Wanyin. The younger boy was listening, answering questions whenever Lan Huan gave an opening. As far as he could follow, it seemed that they were talking about the lakes of Yunmeng and the waterfalls of Gusu. Lan Zhan blinked as he refocused, judging Jiang Wanyin’s eye color. It was silver, yes, like Wei Ying’s, but they weren’t the same. Jiang Wanyin’s were darker and stormier, far more turbulent. Yes, his Wei Ying bore the superior eyes.

“Not the same.” Lan Zhan allowed his judgment to fall solely for Wei Ying’s ears. “Wei Ying’s are Wei Ying’s. It will always be Wei Ying.” 

“Lan Zhan…” Wei Ying ducked his head, staring at their two hands. There was a faint blush visible on his cheeks. “Ah, Lan Zhan...do you know the name...no, nevermind.”

“Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan moved even closer to Wei Ying, finally throwing all decorum and manners out throw the window. 

Uncle would understand. And if he didn’t, Lan Zhan would explain to him. He wasn’t going to budge.

“No, it’s okay.” Wei Ying glanced up again, cheeks pinked and silver eyes gleaming. “I’m just happy to be with Lan Zhan.” 

“Mn.” Lan Zhan settled his chin on Wei Ying’s shoulder. “I missed you too.” 

Lan Zhan’s gaze flickered to the adults for the moment and caught the violet gaze of Madam Yu. She seemed to be displeased about something, but he wasn’t entirely sure what. It was probably that some of the heavily spiced food had upset her stomach. Granted, it wasn’t as vibrant as Wei Ying’s tray, but the Yunmeng palate was far different than the Gusu palate. 

Unless...was she upset at how close he was to Wei Ying? Lan Zhan’s eyes narrowed in thought before he shook that idea from his head. An adult wouldn’t be so petty.

“Ah, but Lan Zhan, we haven’t met before.” Wei Ying blinked at him, brow furrowed as he tilted his head with confusion. “This is our first meeting.” 

“Not true,” Lan Zhan scoffed quietly. “Wei Ying was always there.” 

“Lan Zhan.” There was a moment of pause before Wei Ying continued to speak, “what do you mean by that?” 

Lan Zhan considered, for a moment, the significance of what Wei Ying had said. He had thought Wei Ying had, if not remembered him, then at least recognized him from the dreams. In fact, that was the reason why he thought Wei Ying had recognized him. Now, he wasn’t sure if there was something else or if it was for another reason that Wei Ying had known him.

But, in the end, did any of that matter? Wei Ying was here and Wei Ying was alive. And that was, more than anything, what Lan Zhan had wanted.

“It’s fine.” Lan Zhan closed his eyes as he answered as simply as he could. “Wei Ying is here and safe.”

*

***

*

After the evening meal, the children of the two clans had been carefully separated by their attendants. There had been no fuss, only a quiet nod between the two bound by the crimson threads of fate and then the two sons of the Jiang Clan were led away by their nursemaids. The two sons of the Lan Clan were led away by their elder cousins with the news that more Lan disciples had arrived. Only the youngest Lan looked back, golden eyes meeting eyes of pure silver before they were both led away. 

Only the clan leaders were left and they too left the dining room in favor of that same pavilion out on the lake. Tea already awaited for them on the table and there was little preamble to their conversation. A simple wooden box was set to the side of the tea.

“That went better than I thought it would.” Lan Qiren stood, waiting for Madam Yu to be seated first. 

“How so?” Yu Ziyuan arched one elegant brow as she carefully rearranged her robes. “The fact that they all behaved so well?”

There was a wry grin on her face as she prepared the tea, each of her movements elegant and deadly. Jiang Fengmian watched from his place by the railing, face serene and placid as always. He only stepped toward the table once he was offered a celadon cup.

“Wangji never takes to strangers so well,” explained Lan Qiren as he accepted the tea that was offered to him. “He is wary of his own cousins, even.”

“Well, it’s not as if our A-Ying is a stranger-” Jiang Fengmian began as he joined the two at the table.

“They’re still children.” Yu Ziyuan glared at the two men from the corner of her eyes as she tapped the lid of the box in front of her. “There will be no relationship between the two of them until they’re of age.”

A chill trailed down Yu Ziyuan’s spine as she touched the box the Jiang disciples had brought back. Cangse Sanren’s tokens had been brought back from the cave. She would study them, later, when she had finally rested.

“Still, is it not as A-Ren has said?” Jiang Fengmian continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted, still smiling gently as he sipped at his tea. “Young Master Wangji does not take kindly to strangers and yet he launched himself at A-Ying in the courtyard. Quite odd, wouldn’t you say?” 

“I know what you’re thinking, Jiang Fengmian.” Yu Ziyuan scowled as she tapped her nails on the lacquered surface of the table. “You think Young Master Wangji has glimpsed something similar to what I have.” 

There was a moment of silence brought about by her words, it wasn’t something that pleased any of them. But the meeting between the two children had been strange enough as it was and, as they had already learned, anything was possible.

“Well, perhaps not exactly, but there is something strange about that. You must admit that at least.” Jiang Fengmian amended his words slightly as he continued again. “Perhaps….Young Master Wangji simply has an innate sense of recognition in regards to A-Ying. His soul knows they are irrevocably bound together.” 

Yu Ziyuan hated to admit it, but there was a strange sense of logic to what her husband proposed. She glanced at Lan Qiren, brow quirked as if daring him to agree. 

“I must agree with him, Madam.” Lan Qiren sighed as he furrowed his brow, considering the possibility of his younger nephew having seen something similar. “My Wangji would have said something if he had glimpsed something.” 

“Would he?” The words burned as Yu Ziyuan admitted it was possible. “Can you say so with complete conviction? After everything the three of us now know? Anything is possible, and we must be prepared for any eventuality. Any possibility.” 

Only the sound of water lapping against the piers could be heard in the silence that ensued. It was an admittance of a possibility that pleased none present. Not the reality of another child having either seen or gone through the horrors that the newly adopted son of the Jiangs had.

“I….” Lan Qiren’s voice wavered as he spoke, almost quiet and barely above a whisper. “After what I know now, I cannot say that with absolute certainty. All I can say is that Wangji’s behavior has not changed nor has he shown an increased or sudden jump in knowledge. I would have been informed if such a thing happened in his lessons.” 

“Do you believe,” Jiang Fengmian began as he stood and paced around the table, “it could be possible that others are glimpsing the future?”

“Not the future,” corrected Yu Ziyuan absently as she rubbed at the bridge of her nose, “the memories of a world that no longer exists.” 

Even this minor discussion of the memories brought a throbbing to the forefront of her head, an incessant tapping that didn’t cease. It only ever increased or remained at the same, terrible, rhythm. If she wasn’t careful, she was sure it would drive her mad.

“You said they feel like half-remembered dreams, correct?” Lan Qiren tapped his finger on his knee as he spoke. “The memory of someone else’s story?”

“They’re there, in the back of my mind.” Yu Ziyuan frowned slightly as she did her best to explain the sensation that curled within her mind. “If I focus on them, I can bring them to the forefront. But not without any great discomfort. As if my mind is threatening to burst at the seams if I push at the threshold for too long.” 

Her explanation only made the shoulders of the two men droop imperceptibly. It wasn’t the most pleasant of things to hear and, while they knew how Jiang Ying suffered, it didn’t mean they were accepting of such a thing happening to another child. Two people suffering was too many. 

“I don’t believe we would have any way of knowing.” Lan Qiren admitted, a pained grimace on his face even as he did so. “We don’t even have an understanding of how Wei Ying, forgive me, Jiang Ying, even managed to accomplish what he did. Or if he even knows how he accomplished it.”

And that...was another situation they had. The not-memories that floated within the back of Yu Ziyuan’s mind held no explanation for how he had managed to accomplish such a feat. Simply, that he had. 

The only alternative they had would be to ask the now 6-year-old Jiang Ying and see if he would be able to explain if he even knew how it had happened. But then there was the danger of it worsening his condition. Would asking Jiang Ying about how he had traversed from his future to their past cause anything to happen to him?

“I still think Cangse Sanren had something to do with it.” Yu Ziyuan set her teacup on the surface of the table with more force than was strictly necessary. “How does one even turn into a statue in the first place?”

“Who are we to question the ways of Immortals?” Jiang Fengmian serenely spoke.

Lan Qiren merely drew in a deep sigh as he rubbed at his own forehead. If there was ever a moment to question the whims and foibles of Immortals, it would be this very moment. 

“I will , even if you won’t.” The words were hissed as the ring on Yu Ziyuan’s hand crackled with a purple light, mirroring her frustration at the situation in front of them. “We are to raise the child of an Immortal. A child who not only has somehow managed to traverse the fabrics of reality and time, but also create an entirely new form of cultivation. Someone who bears two sources of spiritual power in his body, a Golden Core and a pool of resentment! I would say my concern and desire to know is duly justified.” 

The purple lightning from Zidian illuminated Yu Ziyuan’s face, highlighting the cold beauty of her face and the determination that glowed fiercely within her eyes. It was clear to the two men in front of her that Yu Ziyuan would not be stopped, perhaps she couldn’t even be stopped. There was a fury in her that was righteous and crackled as if the very nature of thunder and lightning had truly descended and taken residence in her body. This wasn’t just the Violet Spider of Meishan Yu, this was a woman who would not and could not be stopped.

“Well, tomorrow our disciples will set out in search of any stories and tales of Baoshan Sanren and if any of her disciples have descended from her mountain.” Jiang Fengmian smiled, pride and respect glinting in his eyes. “There is only so much we can do if she does not want to be found.” 

Lan Qiren nodded, his own disciples would begin the search as well. All of them seeking stories and attempting to track down the trail of Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze in order to determine what exactly had led them to that cave so close to Yiling.

“Useless woman,” scoffed Yu Ziyuan again, turning to a comfortable target once more. “What’s the point of letting her daughter wander off the mountain, get herself turned into a statue and then this whole situation with A-Ying? If I ever see her, I will give her a piece of my mind.” 

Jiang Fengmian and Lan Qiren exchanged a glance between themselves.

“The Immortal Baoshan Sanren?” Jiang Fengmian spoke as if it make sure he was thinking about the right person.

Unfortunately for him, his wife took it as that he was doubting her abilities. 

“Are you doubting me?” There was a huff from Yu Ziyuan as she turned her blazing eyes on him.

“Of course not, dear.” Jiang Fengmian murmured as he covered his mouth with his sleeve, hiding the grin on his face.

There was a moment of judgment, the fierce violet eyes nearly glaring at him before Yu Ziyuan turned away.

“Good, make sure you remember that.” 

*

***

*

It was meant to have simply been another night. Another night full of dreams of ash and bloodshed. Dreams, as if they could even be called such a thing. They were nothing but nightmares and hindrances. It would simply be easier to no longer sleep, but Wen Ruohan was not yet Immortal, even if he was the closest to immortality out of all the cultivators. Even he needed sleep.

Even if his sleep was desolate and nowhere near what was necessary, it did not mean he wasn’t alert to every movement. Wen Ruohan had lived through more assassination attempts than most — in the Wen Clan, you lived or you died. And living was barely living, it was living for the glory and might of the Wen. That was all that mattered. 

But even the Chief Cultivator was not perfect and that was something Wen Ruohan was about to learn as there was a woman — silver eyes and silver hair and robes of pure white as if she were in mourning — leaning over him and her soft hair brushed against his cheek. Wen Ruohan went to move, to summon his sword or slam his fist into her chest when he realized that he couldn’t. 

He could breathe, but there was nothing else. Wen Ruohan was completely and entirely mobilized while there was a stranger in his room. 

Shit.

“Who are you and how did you get in here.” Wen Ruohan’s voice was cold even as he struggled against whatever power was holding him in place. “What have you done to me?”

There was nothing his senses could detect as if the woman wasn’t even there and there was no thrum of power he could notice. It was like the woman was simply a mirage, not even a ghost. A ghost, at least, would leave a trail of resentful energy (although a ghost would never have been able to make it’s way past the wards of Nightless City). 

“Oh do be quiet.” The woman leaned back and snapped open a white fan, a bored expression on her beautiful face.

The beauty of women had long since stopped having an effect on Wen Ruohan, he couldn’t find it in himself to be affected by her. His own wife was a beauty amongst all the clans, even if he didn’t find any pleasure in her features. Anyone who knew him would know that he did not show pity to a beautiful face.

“How dare you!” Wen Ruohan’s own face began to twist into a snarl as the unknown woman dared to command him. “Do you know who I a-”

“Stop being such a petulant child, Wen Ruohan.” The woman’s white fan tapped against his lips.

And then there was silence. Not a word could pass through his lips and even his thoughts seemed muffled to himself, there was nothing he could do. A great wave had come over him and pushed him down, far past the surface, until there was nothing but darkness. There was no sound. No light. Nothing he could see or hear, but the woman in light. 

And how he hated her. He hated how helpless he had become from that one move and he knew that no matter how much he detested her, this was not a person he could afford to keep offending. This woman wasn’t someone he was on equal footing with, perhaps he would never be on equal footing with her. 

“Well?” She tilted her head to the side, studying him with languid silver eyes. “Will you behave?” 

The way she moved her head, silver eyes almost coquettishly blinking back at him made him hate her even more. It stirred a memory in him he had thought he had shoved down to the very recesses of his memory. After an eternity of hatred, he nodded his head and Wen Ruohan felt as if he had signed over his soul to her in servitude. 

There was no movement, no acknowledgment other than another slow blink, but he knew that his voice had been returned to him.

“Who,” he gritted out from between clenched teeth, “are you?” 

“Such ill manners,” the woman sighed as she snapped open her fan, “I can scarcely believe that this is what passes for the lord of a cultivating clan nowadays.” 

A nerve twitched in Wen Ruohan’s forehead as he forced himself to take another calming breath. Perhaps it was for the best that he was immobilized considering how dearly he wanted to kill her at this moment. 

“Madam, may this one have the honor of knowing your name?” Through the benevolence of an unknown divinity, Wen Ruohan was able to instill civility in his words as he spoke. 

In truth, he was quite proud of himself for that.

“Much better. A little politeness never killed anyone.” There was a smile on the woman’s face as if she approved of his civility as well. “As for giving you the honor of knowing my name...no, you may not have that honor.” 

If it hadn’t been directed towards him, he would have chuckled. As it was, he was frustrated. An unknown woman was sitting on his bed in the Palace of the Sun and Flames, the very heart of Nightless City, and he was completely at her mercy.

“Then what shall I call you, Madam?” Wen Ruohan could think of several names at the moment but few were fit for polite company. 

And this woman was most definitely not polite company, no matter how fine her clothing and jewels.

“Any number of things, considering it’s quite obvious I exist in a sphere of influence far above your own.” She lazily fanned herself as she spoke without an ounce of shame in her voice or posture. “Your Eminence is acceptable. As is Your Highness, if we’re in a particularly formal situation. But, for the day to day matters, I suppose Your Ladyship or Your Grace will do.” 

Wen Ruohan closed his eyes for a moment and took in another, slow breath. He was going to kill this woman. She was a complete and utter annoyance. Entirely shameless.

“You look a lot like Wen Mao.”The words fell from her lips as if they were careless. “But you smile far less than he ever did.” 

He knew such a thing couldn’t be careless. Everything she was doing, every action and word was carefully calculated and planned. Someone who had managed to infiltrate the inner sanctum of Nightless City was anything but careless.

“You knew Wen Mao?” It was only a moment before Wen Ruohan remembered to tack on one of the titles to his question. “Your Ladyship?” 

“What a ridiculous question.” It was a laugh that fell from her lips, the sound of silver bells and wind rushing through a forest of bamboo. “Of course I did. He would be devastated at how dark and dreary you’ve made this place. Then again, perhaps you simply inherited his lack of taste. There really is no accounting for some people.” 

Wen Ruohan closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as this woman insulted the Palace of the Sun and Flames. She held him at a grave disadvantage and it would not do to insult her back, as he so desperately wished to. No one had spoken to him so, not since that Cangse Sanren had turned down his offer of marriage for a servant’s son. 

And this woman, no, he couldn’t keep referring to her as such in his mind. Not when she was so familiar with the appearance of Wen Mao and...Wen Ruohan was inclined to believe her. While ridiculous and annoying, nothing she said reeked of lies.

It was an irritating way that she spoke, but there was something familiar about it too.

“What is it that you want.” Wen Ruohan let out a deep sigh as he closed his eyes. “There’s obviously something you want from me.”

At this point, he was inclined to almost give her anything if it meant she would go away.

“Smart boy.” With those words, she pulled a tiny white fox from her sleeves and placed it on his chest. “Give this child to my grandson.” 

Wen Ruohan nearly went cross-eyed trying to keep an eye on the fox as he glanced between the woman and the fox. He hadn’t even sensed the fox, but then again he hadn’t even sensed the woman, and here they were.

“And how am I meant to know who your grandson is?” Wen Ruohan frowned as he stared at the white fox curled on his lap. “Or even find him?” 

“Well, you’re the Chief Cultivator, aren’t you?” There was the tiniest flash of wry mockery in those silver eyes. “I’m sure I’ve given you more than enough to find him. If you can’t, then I suppose that’s all you’ll ever amount to.” 

“How dare you speak to me-” Wen Ruohan was not ashamed to say that he had lost his temper, he was ashamed to say that it had happened while immobilized in his own bed.

“Yes, how dare I!” Another laugh bubbled up from her lips and her silver eyes darkened, the little light in the room seeming to have been absorbed by her.“You do not scare me, Wen Ruohan, you are but a pawn in a far bigger game than you can ever imagine. You move how I tell you to move-” 

There was an overwhelming sense of power, a pressure that threatened to blow out his ears and leave him nothing but a husk of what he once was. The woman was no longer just a woman, she glowed in the darkness of the room like a vibrant star teetering on the edge. She was sheer and pure light and he wanted nothing more than to know that if he touched her if he would burn.

“Or what? What will you do?” 

“I will wipe you out.” Her words weren’t flames, as he expected, but the cold that accompanied starlight. “I will make each and every one of your nightmares a reality. There will be no Wen Clan. There will be nothing left, not even ash nor ruin. You will watch as your people are murdered and thrown into ditches, turned into Fierce Corpses, and used for the amusement of others. Your grand palace will be burnt to the ground, the sun shot down from the sky, and no one left to weep for it. And at the end of it, you will be begging me for death. And I will not give it to you.” 

Wen Ruohan drew in a ragged breath. How was she to know of his nightmares — the dreams that plagued his rest — when he had not even spoken them to another person? It was impossible for anyone to know of the nightmares he had of the other clans turning their backs on the Wen, just as his advisors warned and spoke of to him. 

A part of him wanted to know if the greatest weapon used by the other clans was the same weapon she would use against him. 

“The Yiling La-” 

“You are not qualified to say that name.” There was a sudden movement of her wrist and the fan was snapped shut. “Or any of his other names. Listen to me, and you listen well, there are things far worse than death. Are you truly willing to risk your chance at immortality and the future of your clan because of your own pride?” 

At that moment, Wen Ruohan had thought he would die. He thought that the capricious and mercurial woman had had enough. But that wasn’t it. Annoying and rude as she was, she had only spoken the truth. The truth he had never told anyone else and lived with, day in and day out since the day he had first uncovered the scrolls detailing the existence of the Yin Iron.

“Everything I saw was real, wasn’t it?” His voice was quiet, hazy almost. Vindicated. “The Yin Iron. The madness from it.”

“Well,” she scoffed as she snapped her fan open lazily, “not all of the madness, perhaps, could be blamed on the Yin Iron. Humanity is quite greedy, after all. So many attempting to stand at the peak of humanity. I wonder just how many are torn down in the process. Well, it’s not as if you need me to continue spelling things out for you. You look as if you possess at least a passing semblance of intelligence. Do put it to good work, Wen Ruohan, it would be such a shame if all you inherited from Wen Mao was his pretty face and none of his intelligence.” 

The woman leaned over him again and tapped one slender finger on his forehead before she straightened once more. Whatever had been holding him in place seemed to vanish and Wen Ruohan lunged forward, displacing the small fox, in an attempt to catch the woman. There was a smirk on her face as she vanished into nothingness as if she was never there and the only proof of her visit was the now unhappy tiny fox.

“What kind of mess have I gotten myself into?” Wen Ruohan fell back into his bed with a grimace.

*

***

*

In the long hours of the night, after the woman had left, Wen Ruohan sat at his desk. The woman had hinted at many things and it was time, perhaps, for honesty. There were those he once could have called friends and if he was to trust the hints of that infuriating woman, then Nightless City was not what he once thought it was. Or what Wen Mao had hoped it would be.

He wrote, haltingly at first, but then the words became easier. They flowed like blood from a wound. 

And yet, a week would go by before Wen Ruohan sent the two letters. 

*

***

*

A shrill, piercing scream cut through whatever dreams Yu Ziyuan may have dreamt of. Her eyes opened and all she could see at first was the familiar lines of her bed-chamber, the moonlight streaming in from the windows was enough to light her way. 

“Was that-” Jiang Fengmian had awoken, just as she had.

There was another scream, one that tore at her soul.

“A-Ying.” She breathed his name even as she jumped from the bed, fumbling for one of the talismans in place by their bed.

“Are we under attack?” There was already a sword in Jiang Fengmian’s hand as he scanned the outer hallway. 

“No, the wards aren’t detecting anything.” Yu Ziyuan had barely finished checking the talismans before she broke into a run in the direction of A-Ying’s quarters. 

If it wasn’t that they were under attack, then it was something they couldn’t detect.

The long hallway to A-Ying’s quarters was endless. No matter how far Yu Ziyuan ran, it took an eternity to reach the doorway. An eternity of hearing the screams of the child she had just brought into her home. An eternity of hearing the screams of the child she had just sworn to protect. An eternity was far too long. She had already lived one eternity of agony and torment within the memories she had lived in. This was not what she promised him. 

Something was breaking her word. Something was hurting her child. 

Chapter Text

A swirling mass of something blocked the entrance to where A-Ying was meant to be sleeping. It was a choking mist of resentment and what felt like corrupted spiritual power — a dark power that Yu Ziyuan had never faced and never known. While it blocked their entrance, it did nothing else. It was simply a wall. A wall that was between her and her screaming child. 

His screams were jagged and pleading, the words indecipherable as Yu Ziyuan could hear him gasp for air. For something to give way and whatever thing was tormenting him to cease. It was a wretched sound that she would never forget and, when she glanced at her husband, she knew Jiang Fengmian would never forget the sound that was torn from A-Ying’s lips. It was akin to the sound a dying animal made, a keening and wailing sound that would peter off before it began anew. It was a sound that should never come from the lips of a child. 

And yet, were you not the one who beat our Master? A multitude of voices whispered from the darkness, the words barely intelligible and entirely broken, magnified a thousand times and yet barely more than a drowning silence. Were you not the one who first broke him? Why should we let you pass? He is ours. Never yours. Our glory, our king. He is not yours to love, to touch, to have. 

The voices echoed in the back of her head, she could not make out what was said, but she felt the hatred and the cruelty. Whatever the voices belonged to, the wall that blocked her path or some other creature made up entirely of resentment, Yu Ziyuan didn’t care if she was hated. They could try to stop her all they wished, but they would let her pass. She would force her way through, no matter what it took. 

Yu Ziyuan took a step toward the darkness, half running, and the swirling mass reacted. There was a sound, an echoing of sounds that were reminiscent of the not-memories. It was a violent sound that could only be described as pure hate. It reverberated through her mind and body, drawing blood from her eyes as it shook her.

The darkness choked out the very air from Yu Ziyuan’s throat. It was like sludge — a deep mire that threatened to drag her underneath the surface and never allow her to see the light of day again. It was a desperate and raging thing that she clawed her way through, Zidian crackling angrily on her hand as the whip materialized and purple lightning tore at the darkness that blocked the way to A-Ying’s rooms. It threw her back, like a ragdoll, and she landed in the arms of her husband, panting and livid. 

Yu Ziyuan wanted to scream, to rage and curse at anyone. It hadn’t even been a day, she had only found A-Ying that morning and they had all finally slept. She thought that everything would fall into place — A-Ying’s Lan Wangji was here, the Lans and their musical cultivation were here to help him, the Jiangs had welcomed him with open arms — why was this happening? It had been the longest day of her life and it had yet to end. 

Purple lightning crackled all around her, the only source of light in the hallway, and yet it did nothing to pierce through the wall of shadows and mist that dared to block her way. 

There was a pure and resolute sound that echoed throughout the hallway, Yu Ziyuan didn’t need to glance behind her to see the display of white robes to know that Lan Qiren and his disciples had entered the fray. A part of her was relieved, while the Yunmeng Jiang were known for continuously reaching towards the impossible, she didn’t think they would be able to traverse the mass solely through stubbornness. If they could have, she would have already passed through. As it was, they needed all the help they could get and she wasn’t going to turn up her nose at it. Not when they had already sworn themselves to each other, if not officially. 

It was a calming sound, one that wiped away the exhaustion and fear that had begun to drip down Yu Ziyuan’s back as the mass of power continued to block her way. She could feel the power of arrays being brought to life, countless ones to determine what the mass was and then how to pass through it. Ones for calming and ones for settling resentful energy. A part of her was proud at how fluidly her Jiang disciples were already acting alongside the Lan disciples, but then again, the Jiang were the most fluid and adaptable. 

The surprise was that the swirling mass wasn’t calmed down. It brushed back the combined spiritual power of the Lans as if they were raindrops slipping off a leaf. It was nothing to the swirling mass. 

“It’s not resentment, not entirely, at least.” Jiang Fengmian frowned as he studied the thing in front of them, a half-burnt talisman in his hand. “It’s sentient.”

There was a sentience to it. Whatever it was that made up the wall that blocked their path, it seemed to shift and adjust to their every movement. Nor could it be lured by the music of the Lan. It wasn’t a mindless, feral thing.

“What?” Yu Ziyuan barked out an incredulous laugh, Zidian crackling on her hand as she brushed her hair out of her face. “You think it’s a wall of ghosts?”

“Ghosts?” Jiang Fengmian stared at Yu Ziyuan, his silver eyes flickering as his brow furrowed in thought. “A-Ren, play Inquiry!”

To his credit, Lan Qiren didn’t falter as his fingers danced across the strings of his guqin, seamlessly shifting songs without speaking or questioning Jiang Fengmian’s line of thought. While it had been years since they had all fought together, what had been honed during their youth still simmered underneath the surface. It was muscle memory, something that wouldn’t easily be forgotten or thrown aside. Not when it truly mattered, as it did now. 

As the gentle notes of the guqin filled the air, there was a stillness to the swirling mass. A moment of quiet and it settled, becoming not unlike a wall of black water. 

And then there was the soft chime of a bell and a rush of air that swept past Yu Ziyuan as something small and silver dove through the swirling mass of darkness. That was enough to give the wall pause, as if it was curious and questioning, the hatred that had swirled through it had dissipated. It was more than enough of an opening. And Yu Ziyuan took it.

“Quickly!” Yu Ziyuan moved, Zidian crackling around her as she willed the purple lightning to hold back as much of the swirling mass as possible. “I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hold it!” 

It was cold and hot and suffocating, like her very being was being smashed apart and smothered at the same time. Her spiritual energy rose up in an attempt to combat it, coursing pure power through her veins as she forced her way through the tiny opening left behind by the light. It was enough for her and the other cultivators to create an opening, Zidian burning through the darkness and creating a doorway out of purple lightning.

And then they saw what had become of A-Ying’s rooms.

It truly was a world of darkness. 

The room and all of its furniture had bled away into the inky darkness. It was nothing but a void, an endless abyss of nothingness. While the room had vanished and been replaced with a world of darkness, there was light in that strange space. Dozens, if not hundreds, orbs of light all hovered around A-Ying who sat in the center of it all in a pool of black blood.

A-Ying’s eyes had bled from silver to crimson. He stared unseeingly into the distance as he touched one orb of light after another. The orbs of light swayed and flickered various hues as indistinct whispering filled the room. Some of the whispers were insistent, others furious. And yet, A-Ying’s face remained impassive, as if he was carved out of marble. A perfect statue of jade with tears streaming down his face. Small whimpers filled the space, a small blessing to know that his screams had stopped. Even if his tears had not and he remained unknowing of everyone around him. Like they were all ghosts. 

Like the one currently in the room.

Kneeling in front of A-Ying was a woman — a ghost in robes of Jiang purple — who had wrapped her translucent arms around him. A Jiang Clarity Bell was held tightly in one hand and the other was at the back of A-Ying’s head. She could barely see the woman, let alone hear whatever she was saying, but there was one thing her eyes zoned in on. 

The Jiang Clarity Bell. 

That chime she had heard earlier, was the Clarity Bell why the swirling mass had stopped long enough for them to get through? It was meant to clear and protect the mind, to bring peace and calmness. There had been at least one Clarity Bell around A-Ying all day, even if his own was still being crafted. Was that why his torment had only begun during his sleep? When there was no one with him and no Clarity Bells to help cleanse his mind and soul?

How could she have been so damn stupid to not even consider that he needed one immediately?

“Fengmian, the bells —” Yu Ziyuan spoke without glancing at her husband, sure that he would understand her. 

It was so clear, after all, the Clarity Bell in the ghost woman’s hands sparkled and danced with spiritual energy, even as the gentle light that emanated from it was beginning to dim and the darkness began to grow stronger. One bell was not enough.

The half-dressed Jiang disciples at the door dashed away in search of any and every Clarity Bell they could find. And Jiang Fengmian? While the Lans continued with their musical cultivation in an attempt to cleanse the room and calm A-Ying, Jiang Fengmian had set about to recreate the arrays on the Clarity Bell around A-Ying. There was no time to search for ink, Jiang Fengmian used his own blood for it. 

All Yu Ziyuan could do was study the situation and wait. Patience could rarely be considered her virtue, she was known for her temper, after all. But she was also the Violet Spider and spiders knew how to wait until the right moment. Yu Ziyuan could wait until the right moment. When hundreds of Clarity Bells filled the room and A-Ying was more of himself. 

Until then, Yu Ziyuan would continue holding the doorway open. Even if it meant burning herself dry of all spiritual energy. It was the least she could, as someone who was indebted entirely to Wei Wuxian — and as A-Ying’s mother. 

The ghost woman turned to look at them, dark grey eyes fierce and blazing as she opened her mouth to speak — and yet no words fell. Panic flashed across her face, still beautiful even in death, and then there was relief as her eyes settled on a point behind Yu Ziyuan. 

Yu Ziyuan turned to follow the ghost woman’s gaze and a curse nearly fell from her lips. There, behind her at the doorway, were three young faces. Why had no one kept the children away? Why hadn’t she barked an order at someone to check on them? Of course, they would have heard the screams — of course, they would have come —

“Get them out of here!” Yu Ziyuan did what she did best, barking an order at no one in particular with the sure knowledge that it would be obeyed. “This is not for their eyes.”

There was a moment of stillness before the two younger boys began to struggle against the grip of the older boy as the disciples, both Jiang and Lan, moved toward them. For a moment, Yu Ziyuan didn’t see them as children. She saw them as they were when they were barely adults, already on the battlefield and fighting against the Wen. Eyes old and cold and far too pained. She saw them both on the cliff, when it was as if blood and resentment were raining down upon everyone. 

When Wei Wuxian had taken the step off the cliff, allowing himself to fall and Yu Ziyuan heard the screams — the Burial Mounds, the ghosts, the dead, the living, all things stopped and ceased and died — and her vision faltered. The image of the two adults faded as she heard the children speak, vaguely, as if from a great distance.

“Gege,” it was a gasp that fell from A-Cheng’s lips as he struggled against the iron grip of the eldest Lan heir, “he needs me.” 

“Jiang Wanyin, it’s not safe.” To his credit, Lan Xichen’s voice held no hint of fear, as if he was holding every ounce of it back so as to not startle the younger boys. “Didi!” 

Lan Wangji had been the first to break free, slipping out of the loose outer robe he wore. A-Cheng followed, taking advantage of Lan Xichen’s momentary surprise to twist free of the other boy’s hold. They ran through the room — into the very darkness of it — and didn’t seem to notice or care for the orbs of light and the blood that pooled on the floor. It was as if they were unseeing of it all, all they could see was A-Ying. 

The first to reach him was Lan Wangji, almost tugging him away from the grasp of the ghost woman. His golden eyes shone with a vibrance and determination that should never have come from the eyes of a child. Yu Ziyuan doubted that he was a child, for a moment. Lan Wangji shone with a light that no one in the room would have ever noticed if not for the darkness. And A-Ying turned to him, as if Lan Wangji was the sun and the moon and the stars for him. 

“Wangji…?” 

Yu Ziyuan didn’t know who had spoken. Her eyes were still on the impossible sight before it. She didn’t dare speak, she didn’t dare breathe or even make a single noise. 

Where Lan Wangji glowed with a pure radiance, like moonlight reflecting off a frozen lake, A-Cheng crackled with violet spiritual power. She had always likened his eyes, and the temperament he had inherited from her, to that of a thunderstorm and now he truly was a storm. 

It was impossible and incredible and she had no answer or thought as to why. 

Her mind barely registered the way the ghost woman in the purple robes leaned towards A-Cheng, pressing a kiss to his forehead before she fully relinquished her place to both boys and disappeared. As A-Ying slumped into the hold of both boys, his terrible crimson eyes sliding shut as he let out a shuddering gasp. 

The darkness in the room responded to his gasp, twisting and shrinking in on itself until it was slithering into the corners of the room and the room was truly a room again. The corners and furniture and floor were truly visible and even the orbs of light were flickering out of existence, if stubbornly. 

Yu Ziyuan heard the ringing of Clarity Bells in the distance and blankly called Zidian back to sleep, until it was cool and calm on her hand. She watched, with eyes almost unseeing, as the pool of blood disappeared. Nothing was left, not even a stain upon the robes of A-Ying and A-Cheng and Lan Wangji. She watched as the three boys, holding onto each other tightly (even if Lan Wangji somehow managed to avoid touching A-Cheng), fell into an immediate slumber. 

“What in heaven’s name was that?” Lan Qiren was standing next to her, his eyes on the four children. “Ah, Xichen...well, perhaps the warmth of four is better than the warmth of three.”

Four?  

When had Lan Qiren moved towards her? Was it when the disciples had entered with all the Clarity Bells? Or when the darkness had disappeared back into the shadows? She didn’t know. When had Lan Xichen joined the three younger boys, curled by Lan Wangji’s side? Yu Ziyuan didn’t know and she didn’t have any answers. 

“I don’t know.” Yu Ziyuan’s hands trembled even as she watched them, mind vaguely distant and separate. “I don’t know. I wish I had answers, I wish I knew something instead of theories and half-formed thoughts. But I don’t know. I don’t know why this happened or if it’ll happen again. Or even if we’ll be able to stop it next time.” 

“If there is a next time, we’ll be prepared.” Jiang Fengmian was at her side, a hand on her back as he spoke in soothing tones. “It’ll be different.” 

Yu Ziyuan desperately wanted to believe him, that the three of them and their minds would be enough. But she knew it wouldn’t be. They had already witnessed their failure all because of their pride. They thought, because she had seen the not-future and carried the memories of Wei Wuxian’s life, that they would be able to be prepared for anything. That they were more than enough. 

But the disgrace of this night had proved otherwise. Only hours after reassuring A-Ying and eating leisurely with the Lans, after their plotting and planning, mud had been thrown on their faces. All because they hadn’t asked A-Ying what he needed. Because, since they were adults, they thought they knew best. So they didn’t ask. They decided what he needed.

“We’re going to have to ask him.” Her lips twisted into a bitter smile as she folded her hands in an attempt to stop the trembling. “We need his mind, his brilliance. Out of all of us, he’s the only one who has the truest vision of what is happening.” 

Jiang Fengmian had pulled them into the hallway, still close enough to keep an eye on the sleeping children. 

“He’s just a child-” 

“He is not just a child!” Yu Ziyuan interrupted Lan Qiren, the lines of her face tight with displeasure and anger as her vision began to grow blurry from tears that threatened to fall. “He may be A-Ying now but he is still Wei Wuxian. He is still the Yiling Laozu! It’s just as Qiren said earlier, all of that is inside of him. Not just the power, but the knowledge. The brilliance. As much as I want him to be just a child, he will never be just a child.” 

Yu Ziyuan ripped her hands apart as she wiped angrily at the wetness that dripped from her eyes. She had had all the answers earlier, she had known exactly what to say and do, but not now. She was exhausted and, above all, she was frightened. Yu Ziyuan was frightened that A-Ying would be forced down the single plank bridge again. She was frightened that none of them would be enough to help A-Ying. 

*

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*

The wind bit at Jiang Yanli’s cheeks, leaving them pinked and flushed as they flew over the great lake of her home. She had always enjoyed flying through the skies with the senior disciples, even if her cultivation was barely strong enough for such a thing, there was a freedom to it that thrilled her. Secretly, she would pretend to herself that she was a fairy dancing in the sky, her every step bringing more and more lotus to bloom in Yunmeng and calling down cleansing rains. 

It was all pretend, of course, and she never told anyone. Cultivators could never do such a thing, but Jiang Yanli could dream and create palaces in the sky for herself where she never disappointed anyone and everything was beautiful. 

Dawn had only just begun to break over the distant mountains and danced over the surface of the water, painting the walls and waters of her home in shades of gold and crimson. Sometimes, the water that lapped at the shore looked as if it was pure gold. As if there were pearls and other great gems lurking underneath the surface, or as if silver had spilled all across the lake, and Lotus Pier was its crowning jewel. 

Lotus Pier, just at the breaking of dawn, was at it’s most peaceful. It was beautiful, but Jiang Yanli knew that the true beauty of Lotus Pier was when it was alive and bustling, all the disciples and their families and the vendors bustling around. The scent of spices filling the air as the Jiang Clarity Bells created a jaunty and melodious tune. 

It was strange to be walking through the halls of Lotus Pier when everyone was asleep and it was so quiet, almost as if it was a palace of ghosts. Jiang Yanli stifled a giggle as she made her way past some stumbling disciples, no doubt they were up for some early training disguised as a punishment. She had nearly made her way deeper into the inner palace when she nearly stepped into her mother after rounding a corner. 

“A-Li?” Yu Ziyuan blinked in confusion, exhaustion lining her face and dressed in simple robes. “How did you arrive so soon?” 

“Mother, are you well?” Jiang Yanli may have only reached to her mother’s waist, but she seemed ready to try and catch her should she fall or sway. 

Yu Ziyuan’s face softened at the gentle kindness of her eldest child. How could the not-her have ever considered that kindness a weakness? This was her A-Li’s strength, her belief in the absolute goodness of people, and her desire to help everyone and anyone around her. 

“It was simply a long night, A-Li.” It wasn’t a lie that fell from Yu Ziyuan’s lips, but it wasn’t the truth either. “I hadn’t expected you to arrive so early.”

She could explain to her daughter another day the truth of what had happened. It was difficult enough to explain when none of them had any answers and A-Ying was still sleeping. There were only half-theories and thoughts on her mind, none of them fit to tell a child. 

“The disciples said that it was something important.” Her daughter glanced downwards, a faint flush on her cheeks as she fidgeted with one of the ribbons of her robes. “I made sure everyone rested early so we could leave before dawn.” 

“My sweet girl, always so considerate of others.” Yu Ziyuan placed crouched down and pulled her daughter, her eldest child, into a quick embrace. 

“Mother?” There was a hint of surprise in Jiang Yanli’s voice as she stepped into the hug, her gentle eyes closing as she nuzzled against her mother’s shoulder. 

“A-Li, I want you to know how proud of you I am.” The words nearly caught in Yu Ziyuan’s throat, but she felt as if she didn’t say them now, she never would. “I know that you will grow up to be a gentle and wonderful Madam, everyone will look up to you for your strength is your kindness. Never let anyone take that away from you.”

Yu Ziyuan was never going to make the same mistakes the not-her did. She would be a better mother, she would be a better wife, she would be a better leader. There was no possibility that she would be perfect — or that she wouldn’t make mistakes, like she already had. But she would keep trying, she wouldn’t give up. 

“I promise, Mother.”

“Such a filial child.” Yu Ziyuan blinked back the wetness from her eyes and straightened slowly. “Come, with me.”

Yu Ziyuan gently held onto her daughter’s small hand and led her down the twisting hallways until they reached a room with an open door. Where A-Ying and A-Cheng and the two Lan heirs were curled around each other. Where hundreds of Clarity Bells lined the walls and hung from the ceiling and created a gentle melody. 

“Mother?” Confusion flickered in her daughter’s eyes at the sight of the three strange children sleeping next to her brother. “Who are they?” 

“The boy with the red ribbon in his hair. He is your new brother, and your cousin by blood.” Yu Ziyuan spoke softly, satisfied that the boys were still sleeping. “His father was Wei Changze and his mother Cangse Sanren. The other two are the heirs to the Lan Clan, Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji.”

“A little prince?” It was a gasp that fell from her daughter’s lips. 

Of course, her daughter knew who Cangse Sanren was. Who didn’t? The woman was famous, or perhaps infamous. Still, it was amusing that that was what her daughter focused on. 

“Yes, A-Li.” Yu Ziyuan would have laughed if she had the energy to. “He is our little prince.”

It was better to say that he was a prince cursed even before he was born. Those damned fortune-tellers, if they weren’t dead already, she would have killed them herself. If they had never whispered such a prophecy into the ears of the Emperor, would things have been different? Not that it mattered, it was too late for such a thing. The Emperor was long dead and it was Cangse Sanren and her son who had paid for it.

“Mother, is he really ours?” Jiang Yanli eyed her, as if doubting her mother’s words, even as her brow furrowed in thought.“Is he a Wei or a Jiang or a Sanren?” 

“He is all of them.” The words felt like lead on Yu Ziyuan’s tongue. 

“What’s his name?” Jiang Yanli nearly vibrated with excitement as she tried to keep her voice down, peering further into the room before her eyes darted back toward her mother.“Do you think he’ll like me?” 

“He will love you, my sweet girl. How can he not when you are so lovely?” There was a surety in Yu Ziyuan’s voice that was augmented from the not-memories. “His birth parents named him Wei Ying and we have given him the courtesy name Wuxian.”

Even when he had pushed his siblings away, Wei Wuxian had always loved them. 

“Little Xianxian.” Jiang Yanli clasped her hands in front of her and her golden-brown eyes seemed to be glowing with the thought of having another person to love. “Thank you, Mother, for giving me another didi to love.” 

Yu Ziyuan drew in a shaky breath, her daughter had taken to calling him just as the Jiang Yanli of the other world had. It was a beautiful thing, but after the events of the previous night, she was worried if fate was trying to fix its course. If it wanted the destiny of this world to flow just as the other world had. Was Lotus Pier destined to always end up in flames? Her family torn apart no matter what? 

*

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*

A week had passed since that horrible night. Lan Qiren had left, again, with some of his disciples to study the cave where Cangse Sanren’s statue rested. Yu Ziyuan had gone with him, searching for answers that A-Ying could not or would not give. No matter how they asked or pleaded, he remained silent when it came to what had happened that night. Hundreds of Clarity Bells lined the walls of his rooms and he barely left them without being coaxed out by one of the other children. 

It was clear to all of them that A-Ying knew what had happened. But the words wouldn’t leave him. He needed time, time to heal the wounds that he carried. All of him had been scarred, his mind and his heart and his soul. It didn’t matter that they couldn’t afford the time, they had to give it to them or A-Ying would break. 

No , Jiang Fengmian thought bitterly to himself as he continued making his way through the mountain of scrolls that demanded his attention, A-Ying was already broken. 

“A disciple of the Wen Sect came to deliver this scroll.” One of the senior disciples placed a scroll stamped with the Qishan Wen seal in front of Jiang Fengmian before they left. “They said it is a message from the Chief Cultivator.”

Jiang Fengmian’s hands did not spasm nor did his face betray any surprise — or fear — at those words. There was no need to fear a message from Wen Ruohan, not now. Not yet. It made sense, after all, for correspondence to arrive. They weren’t at war — yet — and Wen Ruohan had yet to betray them all. And while the Jiang Clan had yet to send out any notices in regards to the new Young Master, there were plenty of rumors floating around. 

Rumors that were sure to have reached the ears of many a clan leader — and the Imperial Court. 

He shook away the last thought and refused to dwell on it. While it would have been polite to inform the Imperial Court, it was not their duty. Their loyalty as cultivators was to the Chief Cultivator, even if said Chief Cultivator was going to eventually betray them all, and cultivators belonged amongst cultivators. And, perhaps most importantly, A-Ying was a cultivator through and through. 

Jiang Fengmian had made plenty of mistakes in his life and he had seen his father make his fair share. He had seen his father wither away, slowly dying with each passing day. Jiang Fengmian had thought he had learned well the lesson to hold onto what you loved tightly. To protect it and never let it go. But when his younger brother had wished to travel the land with Cangse Sanren — Jiang Fengmian couldn’t bring himself to deny his brother that. Wei Changze had been denied too many things in his short life, it was a penance that Jiang Fengmian could never pay. 

And now? Knowing his brother was dead, the how and the why still unknown, and his child had suffered so much? Jiang Fengmian would not allow himself to be forgiven. 

He had failed his brother, his sister-in-law, and his nephew in the not-future. He wouldn’t fail his nephew again. 

Jiang Fengmian was never going to let anyone take A-Ying away. Even if he grew to hate the Jiangs, if he resented them for keeping him away from his birthright, Jiang Fengmian wasn’t going to let go. He wasn’t going to lose his family again. 

And if that meant allowing the world to burn? Then so be it. 

Chapter Text

Everyone had asked him questions, gentle ones at first. And then leading ones. So many questions, insistent and more pleading than their first questions. He didn’t blame them, for wanting to know what had happened and how they could better protect him. But the truth of the matter was that they couldn’t protect him from what they had seen, from what had happened. 

This was not something that could be resolved easily. Wei Ying had made his choice, and he had to face the consequences of it. He could not ask Madam Yu or Jiang Fengmian, or Lan Qiren to step in and shield him. It had been terrible enough that Lan Zhan and Jiang Cheng had pulled him from the mist. He couldn’t involve them any more than he already had. That wasn’t the point of coming to this world. It wasn’t for everyone else to suffer. Only three people had to suffer, truly. 

Baoshan Sanren. 

Cangse Sanren. 

Wei Wuxian. 

Nearly everyone they loved could be happy  — could have their happiness — if they sacrificed theirs. That had been the way of it, that had been their penance. 

Baoshan Sanren had broken so many of their laws when she revealed herself to the young Emperor; he was a mortal man, not even a cultivator who could climb to immortality. She had endangered them all with her willfulness, with her decision to stay in the mortal realm as the consort of a mere mortal man. It was not the way of things — for her to choose a mortal man, not even a cultivator, to be the father of her children. To be the grandfather of their greatest one. 

If she had been less prideful, more willing to bend, then there was the chance that things could have been different. If she could have set aside her own pride and spoken of truth, rather than bets and ignored prophecies, then the path that fate took would have been different. 

But pride, it was for pride that she left. And it was for pride that she was imprisoned. Baoshan Sanren did not plead, and Baoshan Sanren did not beg. But because Baoshan Sanren did not allow herself to step away from who she was, because she refused to bend to the wind, she was diminished. She was locked away in a mountain, layered behind array after array that drained her own abilities. The power that she was so proud of was the very power that powered the arrays that held her in place. 

Cangse Sanren had wilfully broken a thousand more, for the sake of each person she had loved. Greed had been her sin, she had wanted too much from too many. It hadn’t been enough, perhaps it would never be enough for someone who gave so much more than she ever received in return. 

All who she had ever loved suffered. To be loved and wanted by Cangse Sanren was to be cursed and hated by destiny. 

She had loved Wei Changze and he had died for that love. Those who loved her had fallen down into paths of wretchedness at her absence. The lack of her, the lack of her love, had twisted them into shadows of what and who they had once been. 

And for Wei Wuxian? His sin had been wrath. 

For the mortal blood, the very passion that swam in his veins and swirled in his heart, he was feared. He had not been meant to be born of mortals, that had been a mistake. A mistake inherited from his grandmother and later his mother. But then, his inability to forgive, his vengeance and lust for blood, that could not solely be blamed on his mortal blood. He was wrath and all that was cruel; he had been tired of so much hatred thrown his way, so he gave it back. He gave it all back. 

Wei Wuxian did not envy anyone. How would he envy anyone if he destroyed all that there was and did not leave even ash in its place? 

It had been foretold that he would conquer the world, and, in another world, he had. He had ground it to dust underneath his heel. That world had destroyed all he had loved — had taken his heart and shattered it like fine jade — and so he had destroyed it in turn. 

Wei Wuxian had destroyed the balance of things, and there was much to be paid back, all of it to be paid back by Wei Ying. He had destroyed the other world with his rage and his sorrow. He would not be allowed to in this world. His penance was to mend. To set aside his wrath and accept his pain, such had been the will of the immortals who ruled in his stead. 

The other night had been his mistake. He should have born it all in silence, and if he couldn’t, he should have raised barriers beforehand. Wei Ying had disturbed everyone’s sleep, and he couldn’t be like his mother. He couldn’t be greedy. It was enough that he had latched onto Lan Zhan. He couldn’t be greedy with Lan Zhan either. He could only take what he was given. 

Wei Ying had to be perfect for everyone. He had to be the perfect son. The perfect cultivator. The perfect little master. 

And he could never make the mistakes of the other world. He could not burden anyone else with his problems. It was enough that the Jiangs had taken him in and loved him for now. 

He had to fix everything, even if all he wanted to do was simply forget and be a child.

How could he forget and ignore everything when he had witnessed so many injustices in his other world? When now he had both the knowledge and, perhaps, the ability to change the outcome. What use was knowledge if he only kept it to himself and did nothing? What use was it if he allowed the adults of this world to do everything for him? 

He was the one who had lived through the darkness of hell and clawed his way back to the world of the living. He was the one who was both conqueror and destroyer, bringer of death and giver of life. He was the one who had to pay penitence for what he had done. 

What he had wanted, at first, was simply to save the people he had lost. Shijie. His Wens. Those lost at Lotus Pier. All the loved ones who had died before their time all for the sake of power, for the lust of it.

Lan Zhan. His moon, the one he loved, the one he had always loved, even through the belief that he didn’t deserve such a thing. Lan Zhan’s love? There was no possibility that any incarnation of Wei Wuxian deserved Lan Zhan’s love. But oh how he craved it, even if he feared tarnishing Lan Zhan’s purity with his darkness. Wei Wuxian only knew how to break things, he feared breaking Lan Zhan.

*

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He had wanted to believe that his cursed luck had not followed him to this world. But how could he believe otherwise? Every step he took was dogged by the dead, and their voices were cruel. Loud. Mocking. 

The dead did not forget, and they did not forgive. 

They demanded recompense. 

For him, for them, everything was still fresh. The siege of the Burial Mounds had only just happened. For them, his every pain and his every hurt was moments old. Time was fluid and flowed backward.

They saw Yunmeng Jiang and Gusu Lan with their swords, cutting a path to him. To their Master, their king, their beloved. How could they not rage? How could they not demand their death and their demise? 

They saw Lotus Pier burning because of the sun, its rivers and lakes running red with blood. The arrows fell from the sky like black rain, and the fires had destroyed everything. There was nothing but ash and ruin. They wanted the sun to burn, to be ripped from the sky, and for their Master to swallow it, to leave nothing but darkness.

They saw the neglect of Jiang Fengmian and the cruelty of Yu Ziyuan. The words and whips that forced a child to grow too quickly, to accept every punishment and mockery with a laugh and a smile. To never be more, to never rise above his station. 

They remembered Qiongqi Path. They cried for vengeance. He did not know for who, anymore. If it was for the last rays of sunlight or for the petals of a flower who had not fallen prey to rot and disease?

For whom did the bells of death and revenge ring?

To whom did the butterflies of death flutter to? 

No, the pain and anger of the Burial Mounds was still too fresh and their Master too forgiving. Their king, their beloved, carried pity in his heart of hearts. They had no room for pity in their cold chests, they would bear his wrath and hatred. Watching and waiting for the moment in which the living yet again betrayed their king. 

This time, they would be ready. They did not care how many worlds were ripped apart.

*

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*

The silver Clarity bells of the Jiang swayed gently in Wei Ying’s room, forming a gentle melody that helped to continually clear his thoughts, the darkness of his mind and the other kept away for the time being. There were so many of the silver bells, he almost thought that all of the Clarity bells of Yunmeng had been emptied into his rooms, strung across the ceilings and in the windows. It was a beautiful sight, even if it was overlaid with the image of blood-soaked talismans in his mind. In his first world, he had created something similar, only it had been for the purpose of drawing as much resentment as possible to him in the Burial Mounds. He had absorbed as much of it as he could, but it was never enough. If he had been stronger, then perhaps things wouldn’t have played out as they had in his original world. 

He could have gone to Nightless City himself and slain Wen Ruohan, drawing the life from the almost immortal and using it to bolster his own power. It wouldn’t have brought back those slaughtered at Lotus Pier and elsewhere, but perhaps it would have prevented many more slaughters. If he had killed Wen Ruohan, perhaps he could have claimed the Wen and their resources for the Jiang Sect.

Wei Ying didn’t forget the way the Sects had hounded Jiang Cheng, forcing him into a corner where he was forced to agree so as to not be absorbed by any of the other Sects. He had hated them, back then, for forcing his proud brother to bend to their commands as if they ruled over him. Yes, he should have taken the riches and treasures of the Wen and placed them within the Jiang treasury back then. Wei Ying had been a fool. 

He wouldn’t be as much of a fool as this time around. Wei Ying had granted himself the impossible and the opportunity to change the future that had been laid out previously. There was so much he needed to accomplish, even if he wasn’t exactly sure how to go about it and it was not as if he had the ability to find the people who would be able to help him. 

His mother was out of reach, as was his grandmother. They were the only two who could truly help him to control what he had become, or rather, what he had reverted to. 

Wei Ying would have to solve as much as he could by himself, he was a genius after all. He should be able to accomplish this much by himself. It wasn’t as if he was alone and dying in the Burial Mounds, this time he had access to proper resources. 

And, for the fates he wished to change, there was the possibility of help. 

Wei Ying tugged at a loose thread in the embroidery of the coverlet in his lap. There were people he could trust here, even if they weren’t his mother and grandmother, it wasn’t like before for him. It was a promise of family, the promise of family. 

He could only hope he was worthy of it. If he failed in everything, then...

“Xianxian, I brought you soup.” Silver bells chimed as Jiang Yanli entered with a food ladened tray held in her arms, a warm smile on her face as she swept into place next to Wei Ying’s bed. “I thought you would be getting hungry while everyone is in class.”

There was a moment before Wei Ying could speak, simply staring at Jiang Yanli with soft eyes. “Jiejie, thank you.” 

It was the lotus and pork rib soup that he loved, the soup that had always tasted like home and happiness to him. In his last world, these moments had been stolen and he had cherished everyone of them. After that terrible moment — no, Jiang Yanli was alive and he could truly call her sister. He had to remember that this world was not the one he had been born to, this life was different. It would be different. 

Everyone he loved would be happy, he had already razed one world to ensure it. He would raze another if he had to.

“Are you feeling better?” There was nothing but pure goodness in Jiang Yanli’s voice as she brushed back a stray lock of hair from Wei Ying’s face. Although she hadn’t known him for long, she was already caring and protective of him. 

It reinforced Wei Ying’s belief that his Jiejie deserved nothing but good fortune. She had always believed in the goodness of people, even when he and Jiang Cheng had believed people were nothing but cruel. Even in the middle of the Sunshot Campaign she had been nothing but a ray of sunlight, hope, and kindness embodied in one body as she treated wounded after wounded. 

Few great ladies had taken to the battlefield to treat the wounded or even to the camp kitchens to help the cooks feed the bedraggled force. Jiang Yanli had worn her nobility like a cloak. To her, the honor of her position had demanded that she do all that she was able to. 

Wei Ying knew what that kindness of her had cost her. He almost wished that she was only half as good as she was. If she were only a little bit selfish, then perhaps she wouldn’t have suffered as she did in that old world. But none of that suffering would come to pass. He would make sure of it. 

“How could Xianxian not feel better?” He smiled up at her, none of the pain that slept in his heart made it through to his smile. Wei Ying was simply a flower next to the warm sun that was Jiang Yanli. “When Jiejie is taking such good care of me?” 

“Then will Xianxian come walk with me? The lotuses are beautiful today.” 

The question fell heavy in the air between them, for a moment the delicate chiming of the bells had ceased. It was simply a moment of stillness, of time stopping and the world having stopped in its tracks. The shadows in the corners of the room deepened.

Jiang Yanli waited, patiently, her warm eyes showed no discomfort or fear at the lack of noise and the growing shadows. She had heard whispers of what had happened and why so many Clarity bells had been strung within the room of her newly found brother. Some disciples whispered that he had been cursed with some great darkness and that was why the shadows had been attempting to consume him. 

She did not believe those rumors and her mother had greatly punished the disciples who had spread those vicious lies. 

Xianxian was not a bearer of misfortune. Anyone with eyes could see how gentle her Xianxian was. Jiang Yanli had always prided herself on studying people, she was young but had taken to her lessons greatly. While she did not bear the same martial prowess as the other disciples, her mind was sharper than their blades. Xianxian, this new brother of hers, whatever darkness he carried in his heart, was not by his doing. He had been hurt by the world. 

And she knew, deeply and truly, Xianxian would never hurt the people he cared about. He was far too honest with his feelings for that. Jiang Yanli only had a suspicion, but she thought that Xianxian was remaining in his rooms in order to protect everyone else. The Clarity bells seemed to suppress whatever darkness it was that followed him and she knew that her father had ordered the mass production of thousands of Clarity bells so that they may cover Lotus Pier, but they took time to make. 

Jiang Yanli did not think the craftsmen could produce thousands of them within three months and she hated the thought of Xianxian trapped in his rooms for so long. She wanted to frown and stomp her foot at the unfairness of it all but knew that it would do no good. Instead of complaining, it was better if she put her focus to accompanying Xianxian between her lessons so he wouldn’t be alone.

“Ah, I don’t think I can.” Wei Ying flinched without thinking, his control wasn’t in a place where he was comfortable leaving the relative safety of the Clarity bells. He couldn’t risk hurting anyone around him. 

“Xianxian, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed.” Jiang Yanli shook her head, dark hair rustling as she moved toward a delicate basket full of embroidery work on a nearby table. “This jiejie will stay and keep you company.”

“It’s not Jiejie’s fault! It’s just less fuss if I stay in bed.” Wei Ying’s silver eyes followed her before he glanced at the stack of scrolls and talismans on the nearby desk. “Though...could Jiejie bring me more ink and paper? Then I can write while Jiejie is here with me.”

“Xianxian has used up everything that was brought yesterday?”

There was a sweet smile, not unlike the breaking dawn, as Wei Ying spoke, “Xianxian likes to write and draw.”

Chapter Text

Wen Ruohan sighed deeply as he rubbed at the bridge of his nose. It had been an irritating week, to say the least. One of the less amusing facets of being Chief Cultivator was dealing with whatever nonsense the Imperial Court thought to throw their way. 

A few years ago, and when he had been a younger man with far less patience, the nonsense had been constant demands for Cangse Sanren to be handed over to the Imperial Family. A pity then, that rogue cultivators owed no fealty to the sects or the Chief Cultivator. Wen Ruohan’s lips curled in amusement as he remembered those days, it had been easier to kick out the officials and ignore their ridiculous demands. Cangse Sanren was, perhaps, safer as a rogue cultivator than marrying into any of the grand families whose children had courted her. 

Although it irked everyone, there was no doubt that the careful balance maintained by the cultivation world at large would have crumbled had she bound herself to a sect. Returning to the Imperial Palace was also out of the question, they would have tried to use her as a pawn and even she, flighty prodigy that she was, knew that. 

An immortal’s disciple was valuable currency. The child of an immortal was priceless. 

The Cangse Sanren they all knew would have preferred to kill herself rather than to be forced to live as a pawn for the Imperial Family. Although in her veins ran the blood of the Imperial Family, purer than it had been for centuries, she had not been raised to live within a birdcage. Even a mountain of immortals had proved to be too small for her, a palace would have been stifling. It would have been the death of her. 

Cangse Sanren was not an existence meant to stay latched in one place; she was as free as the very winds that raced waterfalls. She moved from place to place, wandering to whatever place caught her eye. 

Perhaps that was what had enchanted all of them, the very freedom that she embodied. She wasn’t a dainty flower with roots but a wind upon which petals floated. Cangse Sanren...it was fitting that she had run away with someone who hadn’t been tied down by the Sects. Only he, that damned Wei Changze, had been able to take Cangse Sanren’s hand. 

If he had been able to...

Wen Ruohan allowed his hand to fall away from his face. It was pointless to keep thinking about the past and what could have been. Cangse Sanren was dead and the dead could not return. She was freer now than she had ever been, free from all the politics of the world. Nonsense, she had called it. 

Absolute and complete nonsense. 

The nonsense now was to hand over Cangse Sanren’s corpse and her son, in no particular order of importance. That had been a particularly unpleasant piece of news that crossed first his desk in the form of rumors (as well as a short, official notice emblazoned with the Jiang seal) and then graced his receiving hall in the form of a self-important official from the Imperial Court. 

Cangse Sanren had been a talent rarely seen and he had itched to bring her to his side. Jiang Fengmian’s bastard brother had been the one she’d chosen. Now the child of that union lived in Lotus Pier while Cangse Sanren lay cold in a grave somewhere. And the Imperial Family had the gall to demand that the Chief Cultivator return said child to the Imperial Family as if he were a lost shoe.

While Wen Ruohan detested Jiang Fengmian (and his eternally amiable expression that was asking for a slap) and Wei Changze (with his equally stoic and punchable face), he owed Cangse Sanren’s son better than that. 

Nor could the Imperial Family make such demands of cultivators, let alone of the children of immortals. Turning Cangse Sanren’s son over to the Imperial Family was akin to giving a sharpened knife to an infant. If they didn’t destroy themselves, they would destroy her son and the cultivation world. 

That was, if they didn’t kill her son outright. 

They wouldn’t care that he was a young child, anyone blinded by the temptation of immortality would look at the child of an immortal. Even if Cangse Sanren’s son was not immortal yet, the path would be easier for him, and his body could be refined into medicine. 

He would have to visit the Jiang Sect soon, congratulations were in order - and warnings. This visit from the Imperial Family wouldn’t be the last nor would they fold so easily. If Cangse Sanren’s son was to remain in Lotus Pier, then arrangements would have to be made.

Wen Ruohan stopped outside of the Main Library in the Palace of the Sun and Flames. Although it had remained quiet and tame by his side, for the most part, the damnable white fox was now clawing its way up to Wen Ruohan’s shoulder.

“Have you finally gone mad?” The Sect Leader scowled at the tiny creature biting at his ear. “You’re lucky this Lord won’t skin you, daring to bite this Lord’s body. Absolutely insolent. You shan’t receive any meat with your dinner tonight.”

The damnable creature had the audacity to sink its claws into Wen Ruohan’s shoulder before it jumped back down onto the floor, darting into the library without a look back.

Wen Ruohan’s scowl only deepened as he followed the fox. The Main Library was quiet at this time of day, night had already fallen and most of the cultivators and servants had already returned to their quarters. 

Or so Wen Ruohan had thought. 

“Third Young Master, what are you doing?” A haughty and nasally voice broke the silence, although the words implied respect, there were none in that voice.

Distaste flickered across Wen Ruohan’s eyes. Although his younger brother’s son was timid and shy, qualities he personally detested, he was still a Wen of the Main Family. What was a mere servant to them?

The white fox sat on one of the shelves, nestled between some priceless scrolls Wen Ruohan could barely care about. All of the fox’s attention was on the other side of the shelf, where his nephew and the servant were. Wen Ruohan soundlessly stepped closer to the shelf, looking through one of the gaps. 

“Studying.” Wen Ning sat at a table with a pile of scrolls and books around him.

One of Wen Ruohan’s eyebrows rose involuntarily. Wen Ning was a child still with his milk teeth, even his younger son wasn’t as studious as this shy nephew of his. He wasn’t surprised at Wen Qing’s studiousness, not when the mantle of Branch Head had been forced onto her shoulders at such a young age, but Wen Ning? Wen Ruohan had never heard of such a thing about Wen Ning.

Rather, hadn’t his tutors complained about his stuttering and demure behavior? None of it had been befitting of a Wen of his status. 

“Third Young Master, you are too young.” The servant scowled as he ripped one of the cultivation manuals from Wen Ning’s hands.  “You can’t even read these. Go back to your rooms where you aren’t in the way.” 

“No.” Wen Ning uncharacteristically frowned at the servant and their harsh handling of the manual. ”Give it back to me.” 

“Third Young Master, I wasn’t asking you.” The nameless servant pulled the manual far out of reach of the young boy. “You will.” 

“I won’t.” A coldness seeped into the library as the soot-black eyes of the usually timid Third Young Master darkened into something akin to disgust. “Give it back.”

There was a movement from the servant, one that Wen Ruohan caught clearly from his vantage point and was able to read easily.

Well, now that was disappointing to see.  Perhaps his nephew wasn’t as timid and useless as he thought. Perhaps Wen Ruohan would have to change the servants and tutors watching over this nephew of his since their heads were far too big for their station.

Before the cultivation manual could hit Wen Ning in the face, the servant was writhing on the ground in pain. Wen Ruohan’s foot easily crushed the hand that had been holding the cultivation manual.

“Nephew mine, I hadn’t realized you were so studious.” Wen Ruohan smiled down at Wen Ning with a gleam in his eyes. “Come, Uncle has a reward for you.”