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“Jingyi wants me to come on the night hunt with him,” Sizhui announced as he marched into the apartment. His dads were sitting on the couch reading. Rather, his baba was sitting up and reading a book, and his dad was sprawled across the length of the couch with his head in his boyfriend’s lap and what looked like one of Sizhui’s bóbo’s traditional music journals held above his face.
“Him and who else? Where are you going? What are you night hunting?” His dad put the journal down and sat up. “Are there going to be any adults there?”
“Dad, I’m almost twenty,” Sizhui said, frowning. He took his shoes off and went to toss his backpack onto his bed. When he returned to the main room, he flopped down onto the couch next to his dads. “It’s with some of the kids who are at Cloud Recesses for lecture. They’re going...actually, I’m not really sure where they’re going. Somewhere outside of Moling.” His dads exchanged a look.
“It can’t be the sword ghost. Zewu Jun already dealt with that,” his dad said, tapping the journal on his knees. “And I don’t think he would let a bunch of teenagers deal with that. Are you sure this is actually organized by the Lans and not just Jingyi?”
“There’s no way Bóbo would let Jingyi do something like that,” Sizhui pointed out. “He would find out. He always does.”
“I think you should go.” His baba had returned to reading his book, and did not look up from it as he spoke. “It will be good for you.”
“Lan Zhan, we have no idea what they’re actually doing! It could be dangerous .”
“A-Yuan is capable.”
“Lan Zhan! ”
“Dad, we’ll be fine,” Sizhui interjected. “Even if it is just something Jingyi organized, it’s probably just a few weak ghosts. He wouldn’t take a bunch of children to fight something dangerous.”
“Jin Ling will be there,” his baba observed.
“Which side of the family did he take after?” his dad asked. “Never mind; it doesn’t matter which side. Both of them are reckless and foolish, and I’m sure he didn’t take after his mother.”
“We can handle Jin Ling,” Sizhui said. “He’s only, what, sixteen? And Jingyi is in charge, and people listen to him.”
“Fine. You can go.” His dad smacked the journal down into his lap. “But you have to let me–us–know what you’re doing at least once an hour, and text me when you get there and when you’re leaving, and–”
“Wei Ying.”
“I’ll do that,” Sizhui promised. “And I’ll send you pictures. It’s pretty up there.”
“Don’t go up Dafan Mountain, though,” his dad added. “There are dangerous things up there, and I don’t trust teenagers to not mess with them.”
“We won’t,” Sizhui promised, standing up and going into his room.
------
“Let’s go up Dafan Mountain!” Jin Ling shoved his face in between the front seats and frowned up at Jingyi and Sizhui. They were in Zewu Jun’s impeccably clean blue Prius, and Jingyi was driving. Sizhui wasn’t sure how much pleading it had taken for his friend to get access to the car, but he was impressed.
“We are not going up Dafan Mountain, Jin Ling,” Ouyang Zizhen said, folding his arms. He was one of Jingyi’s friends and had, like Sizhui, been cajoled into joining the lecture group. It was just them in the car; they were carpooling, and a line of the kind of fancy cars the children of clan leaders drove trailed behind them. “There’s a soul eating monster up there, from what my dad says.”
“My dad told us not to go there, too, so we shouldn’t,” Sizhui added, glancing down at his cousin. His companions, other than Jingyi, thought he was just the son of a wandering cultivator who had befriended Jingyi in primary school.
“Who is your dad, anyway?” Jin Ling asked, straightening up and cocking his head. “What did you say your surname was?”
“Wei,” Sizhui muttered to the dashboard. He had always gone by Lan officially, but in practice he gave his other father’s surname. It was less complicated than explaining that his father had defected.
“Wei? Not like–”
“It’s a common enough surname. Not every Wei is related to Wei Wuxian,” Zizhen interjected.
“No, not like Wei Wuxian,” Sizhui lied, smiling at the younger boy.
“Looks like it’s going to rain,” Jingyi commented, squinting up at the darkening sky. “Zewu Jun was right.”
“He always is,” Sizhui observed.
“So, who is your dad?” Jin Ling pressed.
“He’s just a wandering cultivator.” Sizhui didn’t know if he liked the way Jin Ling was interrogating him. “No one you would know. We live in Cayi Town, and I went to school with Jingyi.”
“Still do,” Jingyi pointed out in a sing-song voice. “We’re in the same cultivation program at the university.”
“What style of cultivation are you focusing on, Sizhui?” Zizhen asked. “Jingyi told me, but I’ve forgotten.”
“Musical,” Sizhui said. “I play guqin.”
“Very cool,” Zizhen said. Drizzling drops of rain began to fall on the windshield, and Jingyi turned the windshield wipers on. “See, we don’t want to go up the mountain if it’s raining,” Zizhen continued.
“What, are you a pussy?” Jin Ling asked.
“Do you want to get soaked and have your soul taken?” Zizhen turned in his seat to scowl at Jin Ling.
“I’m not going to get my soul taken.”
“Oh, is your uncle going to come and scare the soul eater away?”
“No! I’ll kill it myself!” Jin Ling gave his sword a rattle and narrowed his eyes at Zizhen.
“Stop fighting back there, you two,” Jingyi said. “I don’t want to have to tell Zewu Jun that two heirs to clans stabbed each other in the back of his nice car. He’ll never let me drive it again.”
“I’m surprised he let you drive it at all,” Sizhui commented. “He wouldn’t even let me touch it after I got my license.”
“Didn’t you learn in the shitty broken stick shift? The one he claims your dads crashed during lecture?” Jingyi asked.
“I did, and I think Bóbo made that story up to tease Baba,” Sizhui replied.
“Why did Zewu Jun teach you how to drive?” Jin Ling interjected.
“Shut up, Jin Ling, it’s not important,” Jingyi said.
“We’re old family friends,” Sizhui said in a kinder tone than his friend’s. “My dad and Zewu Jun have known each other their entire lives.”
“Here we are,” Jingyi said, turning off of the road and into a gravel parking lot. They were the only car there. He turned the ignition off, and Sizhui pulled his phone out to text his baba that they had arrived at the forest. He received a picture of his dad lying on his back on the floor, a small white rabbit sitting on his chest.
“Huh.” he said. Jingyi leaned over to look at the photo.
“Oh, yeah, I think I heard Zewu Jun talking about that,” he said. “That’s one of the rabbits from the back hill.”
“I’ve been away from home for an hour and a half. How did this happen ?”
“You know how Ha–how your dad is with rabbits. They must have been waiting for you to leave so this could be a surprise.”
“What are you two talking about?” Jin Ling demanded.
“My dads got a rabbit,” Sizhui said, showing him the picture. He was careful to zoom in so that his father’s face was not visible.
“Cute!” Zizhen exclaimed. “I wish my dad wasn’t allergic to animals.”
“Do you want to see my dog?” Jin Ling did not wait for an answer and pulled his phone out to show them the lock screen. It was of him and a small, very fluffy husky sitting on the steps of Carp Tower. “Her name is Fairy and she’s a spiritual dog. My shushu gave her to me.”
“She’s adorable,” Sizhui said, smiling. “We live in an apartment, so having anything larger than a cat isn’t really feasible. And also my dad is afraid of dogs.” Jin Ling gave him a look, but continued to show off pictures of his dog. His camera roll was almost entirely photos of her, interspersed with assorted candid shots of Clan Leader Jiang. A few photos of Clan Leader Jin flashed past as well.
“Hey, is that car going up the mountain?” Jingyi asked, distracting the other three from Jin Ling’s dog pictures. They all peered out of the rain-spattered windshield to see faint headlights glittering through the trees of the road.
“Fucking Jin Chan,” Jin Ling swore. “What the hell does he think he’s doing?”
“Being a dumbass,” Zizhen suggested.
“We should go after him,” Sizhui said, zipping his raincoat up and grabbing his sword.
“Not on foot!” Jingyi said. “Hold on; I’ll tell the others where we’re going.” He jumped out of the car and went to talk to the other Lan disciples. Sizhui sent a quick text to his baba to let him know what was going on, and immediately received a call from him.
“Baba?”
“Lan Yuan, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” His dad had apparently been using Baba’s phone.
Sizhui sighed. “It’s not our fault, Dad. A kid is going up the mountain, and Jingyi and I are going after him.”
“It’s raining out there. What part of ‘don’t go up Dafan mountain’ didn’t click?”
“Don’t yell at me, yell at Jin Chan.”
“Of course it’s a Jin kid. At least it’s not Jin Ling.”
“Did your dad just say my name?” Jin Ling asked, leaning over the back of the seat. Sizhui waved him away.
“We won’t go find whatever the monster is up there,” he promised. “Where is it, again?”
“Do you think I’m–”
“A-Yuan, what is going on?” Sizhui’s baba had apparently taken control of the phone.
“Some of the kids we’re with are going up Dafan Mountain, and Jingyi and I are going after them,” Sizhui explained.
“Alone?”
“No...Jin Ling and Ouyang Zizhen are with us.”
“Jin Ling.” There was distaste in his father’s tone.
“Why are you being rude about my nephew, Lan Zhan?!” Sizhui heard his dad exclaiming.
“We’ll be fine. Jingyi is–” As if on cue, Jingyi got back into the car and started the ignition.
“They know where we’re going,” he said. “Who are you talking to?”
“Jingyi is what?” Sizhui’s dad had taken the phone back. “What are you doing, a-Yuan?”
“We’re just driving after them. We’ll catch them before they reach whatever it is.”
“Don’t go into any temples you see, whatever the locals say. It’s not worth it.”
“It’s sealed, Wei Ying,” Sizhui heard his baba saying. “We sealed it.”
“I don’t know what’s happened in sixteen years! It could have unsealed itself!” Jingyi started driving into the rain.
“We won’t, Dad. Unless Jin Chan goes into it.”
“No, you will not go in there under any circumstances.”
“Wei Ying, they’re older than we were.”
“We shouldn’t have been in there, either! I don’t want a-Yuan making my–”
There was the sound of a brief scuffle, then Sizhui’s baba said, “A-Yuan, I’m going to call your uncle and let him know what you’re doing, okay? Be safe and smart.”
“I will. We will. I’ll call you when we’re off the mountain. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Bye.” Sizhui hung up and began tucking his phone back into his pocket.
“Is that Hanguang Jun on your lockscreen?” Jin Ling demanded. He had still been leaning over the seat while Sizhui had been having his conversation, and now he peered closely at the screen in Sizhui’s hands. “That is Hanguang Jun!” It was a picture of Sizhui and his baba playing guqin together from the previous year. Sizhui was intensely focused on his playing, and his baba was watching him with a sideways glance and a small smile on his face. Sizhui turned his phone off, but Jin Ling was staring at him with a suspicious glare in his eyes. “Why do you have a picture of you with Hanguang Jun on your phone?”
“Jin Ling, please sit down. This vehicle is moving .” Jingyi said without taking his eyes off of the road.
“You lied, didn’t you? Your surname is Wei as in Wei Wuxian!” Jin Ling sat down, but he was still glaring at Sizhui. “Why else would you have that picture?”
“Does it matter? Wei Wuxian is dead!” Zizhen said. “Sorry, Sizhui.”
“He’s…” Sizhui trailed off. His charade appeared to have fallen apart, so there was no point in protesting his father’s identity.
“And anyway, even if one of his dads was Wei Wuxian, the other one is Hanguang Jun and he’s an upstanding man,” Zizhen continued.
“He defected from the Lan clan!” Jin Ling snapped. “And he was almost married to Wei Wuxian! My uncle told me.”
“And we all know Jin Guangyao loves to tell the truth about that period of history,” Jingyi said sarcastically. “Have you ever tried to watch Sunshot? Zewu Jun is too nice to say it’s a load of bullshit, but I know he thinks it.”
“Wrong uncle, dumbass.” Jin Ling scowled at Jingyi.
“Do you think your other uncle would tell the truth, either?”
“Jingyi, shut up,” Sizhui said. “It’s not Jin Ling’s fault. He’s allowed to be angry.”
“He’s close to insulting Hanguang Jun!”
“There’s a lot of complicated history in our family.” Sizhui studied the windshield wipers. “What Jin Ling is saying is true.”
“He shouldn’t say it like that, then,” Jingyi snapped, glaring at Jin Ling in the rearview mirror. “Doesn’t he know why Hanguang Jun defected?”
“I don’t know why he defected,” Zizhen said. “My tutors never taught me about it.”
“Guys, we’re almost to the top of the mountain,” Sizhui said. “Let’s stop arguing until we’ve found Jin Chan and the others.”
“I do know why Hanguang Jun defected,” Jin Ling announced, ignoring Sizhui. “I’m not stupid. He left because he was deluded by Wei Wuxian.”
“Deluded!” Jingyi smacked his palm into the steering wheel. “What the hell do you know, Jin Ling?”
“What are they teaching you Lans?” Jin Ling retorted. “That Wei Wuxian was all kind and loving? He killed my father!”
“Wasn’t that the Ghost General?”
“Jingyi!” Sizhui exclaimed. “Stop!” The damage was already done, though.
Jin Ling shoved his face back in between the seats, his sword clutched in his hands. “He controlled the Ghost General! They both killed Daddy, and it was his fault Mama died, too! Him and his demonic cultivation!” The car drove off of the asphalt and onto a dirt road, and they all bumped in their seats.
“Where the hell did they go?” Jingyi asked, peering into the rain. Small houses began to appear on either side of the road. They didn’t appear to be inhabited.
“This is creepy,” Zizhen observed. “Is this why your dad said not to come up here, Sizhui?”
“Dad said not to go into a temple,” Sizhui said slowly. “I don’t see anything like a temple, though.” They kept driving slowly through the town until they came to the edge of the houses.
“I don’t know if the road keeps going, and Zewu Jun will kill me if I take his car off-road,” Jingyi said cautiously. “Let’s walk the rest of the way.”
“It’s raining, and there’s still road left,” Jin Ling complained. “Shushu will fix it for him.”
“He’d better,” Jingyi said, putting his foot on the gas pedal again. They moved out of the town and into the darkness of the road beyond. Sizhui peered through the rain at the trees surrounding the car. As he squinted, his phone buzzed. His bóbo was calling.
“ Wéi? ”
“Sizhui, where are you?”
“We’re just outside of a village on Dafan Mountain,” Sizhui said. “Jin Chan and some friends drove up it, and we’re going after them.” His uncle sighed, long and suffering.
“I told them not to do that,” he said. “Teenagers. Who’s with you?”
“Jingyi, Ouyang Zizhen, and...and Jin Ling. Did Baba text you?”
“Wei Wuxian did. You know your baba never thinks he needs to tell people anything.” His uncle sighed again. “Keep trying to bring them back. I’m coming, and…” There was a brief pause. “Well, your father just texted me to let me know that he and Wangji are driving your way. They should be there soon, if Wangji is driving. I’m not sure when they left.”
“Oh no.” Sizhui’s baba was generally a very safe driver, but when he was in a hurry he exceeded speed limits and was more aggressive than anyone else Sizhui knew.
“Be careful, Sizhui. I’m not exactly sure what’s up there, but when I called Wangji he seemed concerned.”
“We will be. Don’t worry about us.”
“Okay. I’ll see you soon.”
“Bye.” Sizhui tucked his phone back into his pocket. “That was Bóbo. He and my dads are coming.”
“Dads?” Jin Ling glared at him.
“Dad. My baba. Hanguang Jun.” Sizhui cursed himself for forgetting to keep up the lie of his dad being dead. “He’ll be here soon.”
“Cayi Town is an hour’s drive away,” Zizhen said, his eyebrows scrunching with concern at Hanguang Jun’s defiance of physics.
“Hanguang Jun can drive fast ,” Jingyi said. He let the car stop and leaned his arms on the steering wheel. “I can’t see if there’s any road past here, so let’s get out and walk now. I don’t care if your precious little Jin self gets wet, Jin Ling; this is how you learn to be a real cultivator.” Jin Ling rolled his eyes, but they piled out of the car and into the pouring rain. Sizhui’s boots squelched in the mud and gravel, and he zipped his coat all the way up to his chin. He began to walk down the road, his sword tucked under his arm, and the other boys followed him.
“I can’t see anything,” Jin Ling grumbled.
“None of us can,” Zizhen shot back. “It’s raining out.” They reached the end of the gravel and began to make their way across a flat plane of what was usually grass and dirt and which had transformed into a giant mud puddle. The treeline thinned out and retreated to a slope on one side. Jin Chan’s car appeared out of the darkness, parked haphazardly next to the cliff.
“Where the fuck did they go?” Jingyi snapped. They kept walking. The path turned to the side, and Sizhui walked around it cautiously, his hand wrapped around his sword hilt.
“I think I know where Dad didn’t want us to go,” he said to Jingyi as his friend walked up beside him. They looked up at the ominous doors before them.
“What is that?” Zizhen asked.
“I think we found that temple,” Jingyi said.
“Fuck, I think that’s where they went,” Jin Ling said, pointing at the doors. One of them was cracked open.
“What the fuck,” Jingyi groaned.
“I’m going to text Baba and Bóbo,” Sizhui said, reaching for his phone. He huddled over it as he texted, trying to keep the rain off of it.
“Let’s go get those dumbasses,” Zizhen said, beginning to walk towards the doors.
“Zizhen, we don’t know what’s in there,” Jingyi called. “It’s probably not safe.”
“Baba said whatever’s in there should be sealed,” Sizhui said slowly. “And if Jin Chan and his friends are in there…”
“Fine, but it’s not my fault when we all die.” They began following Zizhen towards the temple.
They heard Jin Chan and his friends before they were in the temple itself.
“What the fuck even is this place?” a teenager’s voice asked, followed by the sound of stone clanking against stone. “That statue is freaky.”
“Didn’t you hear?” another voice said. “This is where that soul eating monster lives. Some monster. It won’t come out in the rain.” Zizhen pulled the door open, and they stepped into a dusty cave. It was filled with rocks and abandoned offerings, and what had once been the altar had a set of incense sticks and a few elderly fruits sitting on it. The statue in question was a stone woman frozen in a dance. Pieces of stone wrapped around her limbs as if they were restraining her. Five teenage boys were standing in the center, looking up at her. They were wearing expensive rain gear and had short haircuts in the popular style. Sizhui had not met Jin Chan before, but he guessed that the most extravagantly dressed of the group was him.
“Jin Chan, what the hell are you doing?” Jin Ling shouted, and the boy Sizhui had picked out turned with a sarcastic smile on his face.
“Jin Ling, did you want to join us in fighting the real monster?” he asked. “I thought you would be too much of a baby to fight the soul eater.”
“Zewu Jun told you not to go looking for the soul eater, you idiots,” Jingyi snapped. He stalked across the floor and stopped in front of the Jin boys. “Come back with me, and maybe I’ll give you a less harsh punishment.”
“Oh, I’m so scared,” Jin Chan said.
“You will be after you kneel in the rocks for four hours,” Jingyi shot back. “Zewu Jun is coming, and he’s pissed. You don’t want to know what he’s like when he’s angry.”
“And Shushu will be mad at you for not listening to Zewu Jun,” Jin Ling added.
“Jin Ling, are you really trying to use your uncle to get your way again?” Jin Chan asked. “What’s next? Where’s that dumb wonder dog of yours?”
“Fairy is not dumb!” Jin Ling stepped forward with his hands balled into fists. “Do you want me to break your legs?”
“Do you want to fight? I’ll fight you!” Jin Chan stepped forward as well, his friends fanning out into a formation. Zizhen moved to join Jin Ling, and Jingyi stepped in between both of them.
“Stop it. We’re going to go back down the mountain and you’re going to own up to your dumbassery,” he said. “Don’t make me show you what we learn in the Lan clan.” The secret part of Sizhui that had been raised by two of the most notorious men in the cultivation world wished that the Jin boys would fight so that he could watch Jingyi kick their asses.
“Are you going to lecture us about the rules of your clan?” Jin Chan asked. Jingyi cracked a smile.
“Sizhui, do you want to help me demonstrate?”
“Baba will kill me,” Sizhui said, walking forward to join his friend.
“I wish that fucking soul eater would come and take your soul right now, Jin Chan, just to show you how stupid you are!” Jin Ling shouted. Jin Chan grinned and stepped forward. Jingyi and Sizhui fell into defensive stances, ready to slam him to the ground, but they were interrupted by a creaking.
“Holy shit, holy shit, holy SHIT!” Zizhen shrieked. “The statue SMILED!” The boys all looked up at the statue to see that the edges of its mouth had cracked up into a different expression. A shower of dust exploded over them as it dropped its arm down and shook itself free of its chains. The Jin boys screamed and ran, Jin Chan trailing after them.
“Daddy was right! We shouldn’t have gone up here!” Sizhui exclaimed. “Run!” He herded the other three in front of him as they sprinted out of the cave and into the pouring rain. Jin Chan and his friends had piled into his sports car, and it skidded in the mud before gaining traction and streaked down the mountain.
“Fuckers,” Jingyi snarled. “Sizhui, did you bring your guqin?”
“Of course I did,” Sizhui said. “Do you want me to try and chord assassinate it?”
“Please!” Zizhen yelled. Sizhui shoved his foot into the mud of the ground and launched into the air. The statue burst out of the cave, and he unfurled his guqin from its magic pouch. It needed tuning, but there was no time to worry about that. He began playing the beginning of a tune, then strummed a discordant collection of notes towards the statue. It stumbled to a halt as the magic hit it, then turned towards Sizhui. He repeated the gesture, firing chord after chord into the statue’s face. The others stopped to watch him.
“Keep running!” he yelled down to them. “I’m not going to be able to hold it back for much longer.”
“I’ll help you!” Jin Ling leapt into the air with his sword unsheathed.
“Jin Ling, what the fuck?!” Jingyi shouted, launching himself after the other boy.
“I’ll go find Zewu Jun!” Zizhen called, turning and continuing to run. Sizhui let out another barrage of notes towards the statue, and it stumbled backwards. Jin Ling dove towards it and tried to stab it in the eye. It hit, but the statue was not phased.
“Jin Ling, get out of there!” Jin Ling flipped backwards and landed on the statue’s head. Sizhui began playing a song in a desperate attempt to calm the statue down. He had seen his uncle do that with his xiao; wouldn’t it work on guqin? After a few lines, he realized that this form of magic probably only worked on organic things.
“Jingyi, do you have your xiao?” he called.
“Why would I bring my xiao?”
“Great.” Sizhui put his guqin away and drew his sword. “Do you have any talismans?”
“Isn’t your dad Wei Wuxian?”
“That doesn’t mean I always have talismans on me, Jingyi!”
“I don’t think we can kill this!” Jin Ling yelled, jumping off of the statue’s head and landing on the edge of the cliff.
“Let’s run, then. Bóbo and Baba will take care of it,” Sizhui said. As if on cue, the piercing sound of a flute echoed from the rain, and Sizhui’s baba came flying out of the darkness. His hair was partially down, and it flowed behind him with a dramatic flair that Sizhui had been up until this moment convinced was only in movies. The statue saw him and tried to smack him out of the air, but he did a backflip over the hand and slashed down at it. The stone crashed down into the mud, and the statue stumbled forward. The flute music grew in intensity, and another figure came flying out of the rain. Sizhui’s baba flew backwards in surprise, and Sizhui gaped. The person who had joined the battle was wearing a ratty black sweatshirt, black jeans that had seen better days, and worn black high-top sneakers. They had long hair in the traditional style that flew around them, and chains were hanging from their wrists and ankles. They also greatly resembled his distant cousin, Wen Ning, who had been killed and burned just before his father had been killed.
“Ghost General!” Jin Ling shouted.
“Isn’t he dead?” Jingyi asked, staring at Sizhui.
“Why are you asking me?” Sizhui asked. “Just because I’m...you know.” They watched as Wen Ning smashed his chains through the grabbing arm of the statue, knocking it down to the ground, then spun up into the air and sent a devastating punch into its chest. The stone exploded everywhere, and Wen Ning landed on the ground with a thud. The flute music stopped, and Sizhui’s dad came running out into view. He was wearing the mask he had started wearing again to disguise himself in public, and the raincoat flapping around him was clearly borrowed from his boyfriend.
“We have to kill the Ghost General again!” Jin Ling exclaimed, diving down towards the ground. Jingyi grabbed him by the collar.
“Slow down. He just saved our lives, you idiot!” he said.
“Did he?! What if he tries to kill us?” Jin Ling snapped. Sizhui’s baba flew down to the ground, and Sizhui followed him. Wen Ning was standing frozen in the middle of the mud, rocks surrounding him and a blank expression on his face.
“I should have known those fucking Jins lied,” Sizhui’s dad grumbled, folding his arms. “What did they do to him?” Sizhui’s baba limped stoically across the gravel to examine Wen Ning. “Someone must be mind-controlling him. Someone with the Jins? But they don’t have any Yin Iron. Unless...didn’t you say Jin Guangyao is Chief Cultivator now?” Sizhui’s baba looked up from studying the back of Wen Ning’s head to frown at his boyfriend. “What? Do you have a better suggestion?”
“Hanguang Jun!” Jingyi and a struggling Jin Ling floated down to the ground. “And…”
“Mo Xuanyu, what the fuck are you doing with Hanguang Jun?” Jin Ling interrupted. Sizhui and his dads exchanged a look. He had forgotten that the man who had resurrected his father was technically also related to Jin Ling.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” Sizhui’s dad asked, stepping around Wen Ning to intercept the teenagers. “Saving your life.”
“Where did you get a flute? Are you so bad at cultivation that you’ve taken to demonic cultivation?”
“Flutes aren’t all demonic, you idiot,” Jingyi said. “Doesn’t Zewu Jun use a flute? Don’t I?”
“How did you get here so fast?” Sizhui asked his baba. “Bóbo told me you were coming fifteen minutes ago.”
“We left before we told xiong-zhang,” his baba explained. He reached over and tugged on his boyfriend’s arm. “Look at this.” Sizhui’s dad left his argument with Jin Ling to peer at the back of Wen Ning’s head, and Sizhui walked over to join the other two boys.
“I know you won’t want me to kill Wen Ning either,” Jin Ling snarled, tugging against Jingyi’s hold. “He’s part of your family or something, isn’t he?”
“Mo Xuanyu is right,” Sizhui said. “He did just save our lives.” He didn’t need to answer Jin Ling’s question.
“I don’t care! He killed my daddy!” Jin Ling finally managed to break free of Jingyi and lunged for Wen Ning. Sizhui’s baba turned just in time and tried to grab at the teenager, but Jin Ling shoved him aside. He staggered backwards and landed in a wide fighting stance, one hand outstretched. Sizhui’s dad leapt backwards and began playing something on his flute. Wen Ning turned towards Jin Ling and lunged for him.
“No!” Sizhui’s dad switched tunes abruptly to one Sizhui recognized. Wen Ning switched directions and launched into the air. Jin Ling tripped and fell face-first into the mud.
“Why the hell did you chase him away?” he yelled, standing up at once and wiping his face clean.
“I don’t want you to commit a murder at such a young age,” Sizhui’s dad said causally.
“Let’s get out of the rain,” Jingyi grumbled. “I’m tired of being wet.” He began walking away from the temple, and Jin Ling stalked after him. Sizhui’s dad tucked his flute back inside of his raincoat and walked over to join the rest of his family.
“Lan Zhan, are you okay? Did the statue hurt you? Did landing hurt you?” His hands fluttered around his boyfriend’s shoulders.
“I am fine, Wei Ying.” Sizhui’s baba smiled and took the anxious hands into his own. “Let’s get out of the rain.”
“A-Yuan, what about you? Did you get hit?”
“I’m okay, Dad. Let’s go after Jingyi and Jin Ling,” Sizhui said. They sloshed through the puddles that had taken over the field and found Jingyi and Jin Ling sulking next to the car. Parked next to it was the family’s beat-up gray hatchback, which had been parked at a crazy angle that would have been impossible in a normal parking lot. Sizhui’s dads dropped each other’s hands as they approached, and Sizhui felt a quiet pang of sadness.
“I don’t want Xuanyu in this car,” Jin Ling announced. “Not after what you did to Shenshen.”
“What did he do?” Jingyi asked. “I heard Zewu Jun talking about it, but–”
“It’s not important. I’ll tell you later.” Jin Ling gave Sizhui’s dad a nasty look.
“I was going to ride with Hanguang Jun, anyways,” his dad replied, shrugging and giving Sizhui’s baba a sultry look from behind the mask. The other boys didn’t see it, but Sizhui looked away in embarrassment.
“A-Yuan, you can go with your friends,” his baba said.
“I’ll come with you, Baba,” Sizhui said, smiling. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to spend more time with his cousin, not after what had just happened. Jingyi mouthed, Why are you making me go alone with him ? at Sizhui, who replied with a shrug. They piled into their respective vehicles and began driving back down the mountain. It was silent in their car for most of the drive, other than the quiet sounds of pop music leaking out of the speakers.
“Dad?” Sizhui asked finally.
“Hmm?” His dad looked back at him and smiled.
“What happened to Ning-ge?”
His dad’s expression fell, and he sighed. “I don’t know, a-Yuan. I thought...at least, Jin Guangshan said…”
“Jin Guangshan lied,” Sizhui’s baba said, scowling at the road ahead of them. They reached the village, and Sizhui’s dad stared out of the window at the passing houses.
“This is where your family used to live, a-Yuan,” he said. “Before…” He trailed off. Sizhui knew what he was talking about. He watched the houses passing in the slowly lessening rain and wondered which one had been his.
Sizhui’s bóbo was already lecturing Jin Chan and his friends when Sizhui and his companions reached the bottom of the mountain. Despite the fact that he had clearly flown through the rain on his sword, he looked completely composed. Zewu Jun was rarely truly angry, but he had a way of making even disappointment feel like you were being shouted at for whatever you had done. Sizhui had been on the receiving end of a few of such lectures, and the shame he had felt from all of those experiences was so visceral that he never wanted to go through it again. The Jin boys were getting a full force lecture. Their heads were hanging so low that Sizhui was certain they would drop off and roll into the mud. Zizhen was standing beside Sizhui’s bóbo, a smug look on his face.
“Zewu Jun, have you been reprimanding these shameful young men for endangering themselves and the boys who came after them?” Sizhui’s dad asked, bowing to the other man and sauntering over. “What they did was foolish, and I hope they know that.”
“Where did you come from?” Jin Chan asked, forgetting himself for a moment. “Why do you think you can talk like that to me ?”
“Jin Chan,” Sizhui’s bóbo said, raising an eyebrow. “You forget that it was not Master Mo who went against my specific instructions. You and your friends will return to Cloud Recesses with me immediately , for punishment. Jingyi, I’m trusting you to keep taking care of the rest of the disciples.”
“Yes, Zewu Jun,” Jingyi said, bowing. “I didn’t crash your car, so you can take it back.”
“I’m...glad.” Sizhui’s bóbo’s mouth twisted into half a smile. “Wangji, Master Mo, you are welcome to stay.”
“We’ll go home,” Sizhui’s dad said. “It’s a little too wet for me to go night hunting, and we haven’t finished that drama show.” The other boys stared at him, and Sizhui wondered if his father wanted people to figure out who he was. “Thank you for the offer, Zewu Jun.” He bowed with a flourish, then sloshed across the mud back to the car.
Sizhui’s baba looked over his shoulder after his boyfriend, then turned to his brother and signed, “Wei Ying is tired.”
“What about you?” Sizhui’s bóbo signed back.
“I’m fine.”
“Are you?”
“We’ll talk later.”
“Wangji, that’s not an answer,” Sizhui’s bóbo said out loud. Sizhui’s baba raised an eyebrow and turned to Sizhui.
“I’m going to stay,” he said, replying to an unasked question. His baba nodded and smiled. He patted Sizhui on the shoulder and walked back to the car. Sizhui walked over to stand next to Jingyi as his dads drove away.
“Are you kids going to be able to find a ride back home?” Sizhui’s bóbo asked. Jingyi and Sizhui looked at each other.
“Some of the folks from my clan have space,” Zizhen volunteered. “I think Jianjian brought her minivan.”
“Very good. I like hanging out with Jianjian,” Jingyi said. Zizhen smacked him with his sword. Sizhui’s bóbo nodded.
“I will see you in a few hours, then,” he said. “Have fun, and be safe!” He herded the Jin boys to their car, then climbed into his own and followed them out of the parking lot and down the road. Sizhui watched them disappear into the night.
“Who wants to go find some monsters?” Jingyi asked, cheerfully. “We have like an hour left.”
“Hell yeah,” Zizhen said. Jin Ling gave Sizhui a suspicious look, but he joined them as they walked into the woods.
Sizhui returned home very late and very wet. They had not caught anything, but they had had fun sloshing through the mud and scaring Jingyi. Even Jin Ling had stopped treating Sizhui like he was about to start performing demonic cultivation at any moment, and the car ride back had been one of cheerful camaraderie. He had left the others with a promise to come on the next night hunt. It was dark in the apartment, and Sizhui did his best to be quiet as he hung his dripping raincoat up and took his boots off. Everything was quiet in his dads’ bedroom and the light was off. Sizhui did his best to be quiet as he showered and brushed his teeth. He was combing his hair when he heard a strangled noise from the bedroom behind him. It was not unusual for someone in their apartment to wake up from a nightmare, but it did not stop Sizhui from jumping in surprise.
“Wei Ying. Wei Ying, I’m here.” There was the quiet creaking of bedsprings followed by barely audible whispers. Sizhui put his hairbrush down and began gathering his dirty clothes from the floor.
“But it was my fault, Lan Zhan. I made Wen Ning like that.” Sizhui hesitated. He had a general idea of the story of how his dad had fallen so abruptly from grace, but he had never heard his baba talk about it.
“Did you want him to kill Zixuan?”
“I lost control. It was–”
“It was not your fault.”
“You can’t say that. You weren’t there.”
“I know you, Wei Ying.” Sizhui’s baba’s voice dropped to a soft whisper again, and Sizhui crept back to his bedroom. He did not go to sleep right away, and when he finally drifted off he was plagued with dreams of people he could barely remember and dark events he had forgotten about.