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There is a music that plays in the night when the world has gone to sleep. The soft creaking of tree limbs that sway in evening breezes, the coo of night birds, and the skittering of small nocturnal animals. Even in the quiet of Cloud Recess there are the soft sounds that betray the secret wakefulness of the night. In fact, if you stand in just the right spot, the whistling of the winds rising out of the valley over the rocks sounds quite a lot like a flute. Which is why, the first time Lan Xichen is told about the music coming from the Jingshi at night he dismisses it out of hand. The Jingshi is tucked into the thick bamboo forest at the edge of Cloud Recess, and bamboo likes to sing at night when it thinks no one is listening. It's not until Healer Lan Liu expresses her concern that Lan Wangji’s nightly dizi playing may be putting a strain on his injuries that he becomes concerned. After all, he has never known his brother to play anything but the guqin a day in his life.
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“Wangji, I’ve brought your breakfast,” Lan Xichen announces himself to the still form of his brother not expecting a response nor receiving one. It’s well past the morning chime and Lan Xichen can tell that his brother is awake, but his golden eyes are still closed in a mockery of sleep. His back, a cross hatching of whip marks has already been redressed by the Junior healers who had come earlier to help Hanguang-Jun through his morning ablutions. A small table has been set beside his brother’s bed in anticipation of his arrival and he sets down the tray of food before taking his own seat and studying the impassive face before him.
For any other, Wangji’s face would look like the serene mask of one in slumber, but Lan Xichen knows him too well to be fooled. He can see the slight twitching of his eyelids as he tracks the sounds across the room. He can see the pinching between his brows that tell of the pain that remains even after he has been given his morning dose of pain reliever -- the only concession Lan Xichen could secure for him.
“I was talking to Healer Liu, last night,” he speaks lightly, removing the lid from the morning congee. “She is becoming concerned that you are over exerting yourself.” One golden eye opens with curiosity, glancing at Lan Xichen from behind a curtain of dark hair. Brushing the hair back gently, Lan Xichen feeds a spoonful of the porridge into his brother’s waiting mouth. “Apparently, she heard you practicing the dizi the other night. She was quite concerned that you are practicing musical cultivation when you should be focused on healing.”
The golden eye closes with a huff, “don’t play dizi.” His brother dismissed the accusation without thought. Sighing eternally, Lan Xichen continued feeding his brother, unsure if he should press the issue. If Wangji had been in his right mind there was no way he would have missed the hidden meaning of his brother's words, but he wasn’t in his right mind. His exhaustion was evident in every slow bite he swallowed of his porridge -- in the way his eyes remained closed even as he waited for his elder brother to prod him to eat.
“I know you don’t play the dizi,” Lan Xichen continued after a moment. “I told Disciple Long as much two weeks ago, when he reported you for making noise after curfew.” He weighted his words as if he was talking to a small child, sticking his brother with a hard look that went completely unseen behind his eyelids.
“Didn’t break curfew,” Lan Zhan mumbled into his pillow. This time Lan Xichen’s sigh was as audible as it was undignified. He set the spoon and bowl down gently, leaning in close to his brother as if he was afraid someone else would hear him, even here.
“Wangji, for almost a month now people have reported hearing a dizi playing from the Jingshi at night.” His brother didn’t respond, not even a twitch of his eyebrows to indicate that he had heard, “Wangji?” Lan Xichen asked tentatively, studying his younger brother in silence. A slow deep breath confirmed Lan Xichen’s suspension: his brother had fallen back asleep.
Leaning back on his stool, Lan Xichen pondered what to do. It was clear that he wasn’t going to get any information from Wangji, at least for a few hours until the acute effects of his medication had worn off. Of course, that was assuming his little brother had any information to begin with. In the weeks since his punishment, Lan Zhan had been in and out of fevers so often at times the healers had questioned if he would even survive. Healer Lan Liu had been incredibly insistent that the Second Master should remain in the healing rooms for at least two months under observation; but that plan had been tossed out the moment a fevered and half delusional Lan Zhan had broken out following the news of Wei Wuxian’s death. When he had arrived back from...wherever he had gone - a small child he insisted was his son in tow - he had promptly locked himself in the Jingshi and refused to leave. At least until his much increased fever left him unable to block the door anymore. He had improved significantly in the weeks since then, but even now his physical and mental state was highly variable by the day.
Turning away from his resting sibling, Lan Xichen’s trained eyes took in the room. The space was neat and well kept, as always. Scanning over the selves on the back wall, Lan Xichen could see nothing out of place. His brother’s things were arranged as they had been. The only new thing in the room was the chest, borrowed from the healing rooms that held the medical supplies that had been relocated for the convenience of the healers, and the table where he currently sat. Closing his eyes, he opened his other senses looking for a hint of resentful energy that would signal a lingering spirit, but found nothing. The room around him was quiet and peaceful, except for the occasional pained stirring of his brother. The soft wind that blew through the open windows carried with it the fresh smell of the bamboo forest behind the Jingshi, gently playing the hanging chimes as it came. The clear ringing of a silver bell eased Lan Xichen’s mind, quieting his troubled thoughts and easing him into a state near mediation.
He sat like that for sometime, until he heard his brother shuffling awake again beside him. “Brother?” the voice was horse and unsure.
“Yes, Wangji.”
“Thirsty.”
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Three days passed before another report found its way to Lan Xichen regarding the mysterious nightly dizi playing, this time from a Senior disciple who was assigned to patrol during his morning report.
“I cannot say for certain it was Hanguang-jun,” disciple Lin looked particularly uncomfortable. “Whenever I drew close to the source of the music it would stop, like they knew I was coming, but as soon as I left they started up again. Every time I would circle back, they would stop again. Whoever it is knows they are breaking curfew, and there are only so many rooms on that side of the Recess.”
Lan Xichen nodded his head in understanding. “I will see to this issue myself, consider the area near the bamboo forest off of the rounds route until I tell you otherwise. Let the others know.”
“Of course, Sect leader,” with a quick bow disciple Lin left the room more quickly than necessary, clearly fleeing the situation.
Sitting gracefully behind his desk Lan Xichen considered the situation. He had thought that his previous interrogation of his younger brother had yielded no results, but apparently he was wrong -- it had caused him to become sneaky. Though why he would bother to go to such lengths just to stay up late and practice the dizi when he ought to be resting…. Lan Xichen was starting to feel like he didn’t know his little brother at all. Casting his eyes across the small mountain of reports that had piled up on his desk while he was busy running between said younger brother’s sick bed and the increasingly energetic child he had brought home, Lan Xichen almost groaned. As much as he wished he could storm over the Jingshi and demand an explanation, he would simply have to wait.
He threw himself into his work, willing it to distract him from the questions that lingered in his mind to no avail. By the time the servants arrived to ask if he would be eating here or in the Jingshi, his mind had already played through every possible conversation he could have with Wangji. Walking towards his brother’s residence, he ran through his best version of events, and immediately tossed them aside as he entered the room to find his uncle and nephew sitting with their own dinners next to Wangji’s bed.
“Uncle,” Lan Xichen worked to cover his surprise. “A-yuan, I didn’t realize you would be joining us this evening.”
“I found a worm!” A-yuan held up his prize proudly, a small, green caterpillar who was slowly inching its way up the young boy’s arm.
“He was very insistent that Wangji needed to see the worm,” his uncle’s voice was as serious and severe as ever, his face a mask of jade; but Lan Xichen could see the sparkle of fondness that lit up his eyes.
“He’s going to be a butterfly,” A-yuan insisted, carefully moving the worm back down his arm.
“We will see,” Uncle stroked his beard. “It may be a butterfly or it may be a moth. We will simply have to be patient and watch.” There was a lesson here, Lan Xichen thought as he sat down his tray on the small table beside Wangji’s bed. He knew his uncle well enough to know that he wasn’t in the habit of allowing small children to make off with the local wildlife for no reason. “What do you think, Wangji,” he turned to look at his brother who had been silent until then.
Wangji was laying face down, as he always was these days, his head turned towards the small group that had assembled at his bedside. His golden eyes were pinched around the edges in pain, but the murky fog that clouded them in the mornings was gone, replaced by a hard glint that Lan Xichen was growing accustomed to. The look softened as his eyes paned over the happy child and his worm. “Maybe butterfly,” he agreed.
“He’s going to be beautiful,” A-yuan grinned.
“No speaking during meals,” Lan Zhan’s reminder was soft as he reached out with an unsteady arm to lift the small worm off of the boy and place him on a large leaf that was sitting on the table.
They ate in comfortable silence, Wangji struggling with his spoon only slightly more than A-yuan struggled with his chopsticks. “Will you be returning to the Hangshi?” Uncle asked once everyone had finished. The look he sent Lan Xichen indicated that he already knew the answer, though Lan Xichen could tell he didn’t suspect anything more nefarious than a restless nephew.
“No,” Lan Xichen confirmed. “I will be staying here tonight.”
Wangji let out a small confused sound at the news.
Uncle nodded and stood quietly, “Come along A-yuan. We must get you ready for bed.” The older man picked up his tray and waited for the boy to do the same.
“Say goodnight,” Lan Xichen reminded his nephew as he shuffled the caterpillar leaf onto his tray.
“Goodnight, A-die.”
“Goodnight, A-yuan.” The two brother’s watched in silence as the young boy followed his great-uncle out of the room. “You are staying here tonight?” the question came as soon as the front door had closed.
“Yes,” Lan Xichen collected the dirty dishes and moved to set them outside to be collected. “Would you like tea?”
“Hm,” the reply was soft but not unexpected.
Lan Xichen busied himself preparing tea, trying desperately to recall the many different ways he had practiced this conversation earlier, and failing to recall even one. He returned to his brother's side to find himself under the full force of Wangji’s searching gold eyes. “Brother is tired,” it was more a question then a statement, and Lan Xichen couldn’t deny it. He was exhausted. He sat down more heavily then was his want, handing his brother a cup of fresh tea.
“Yes,” he breathed out, taking his own cup in hand. “and yet, I am here, Wangji.” He let the implication linger in the air. Around them, the Jingshi was quiet, the small breeze that fluttered the hanging curtains wasn’t strong enough to stir the chimes outside, let alone, send the bamboo forest singing. The only sounds came from the soft humming of the grasshoppers and crickets that called the forest and garden home.
Wangji’s face pulled together in confusion, “why?”
“I received yet another report this morning that someone has been breaking curfew to play the dizi,” Lan Xichen studied his brother’s face as he said it, but saw no sign of recognition.
“I don’t play dizi,” Wangji dismissed his concern as quickly as he had the first time. “Can’t play guqin…” the second part came out a sad whisper Lan Xichen wasn’t sure he was meant to hear.
“Wangji,” Lan Xichen struggled to form his words, even after a day’s worth of practice. “I’m not angry. You aren’t in trouble. I just want to know why. Are you having difficulty sleeping?”
Wangji looked at his brother as if he had grown a second head, “I don’t play the dizi.” He enunciated every word, meeting his brother’s eyes. “I don’t…” the sentence cut off as his breath caught in his throat. Golden eyes closed in pain, turning away from Lan Xichen. “I don’t even have a dizi,” it was spat out like a curse.
If it had been anyone else, Lan Xichen would have called the tone petulant, but this was his brother and such thoughts were unbecoming, and probably unfair. He knew which dizi he brother was thinking of, and he knew who currently had it. Wei Wuxian was no sooner torn apart by his fierce corpses, then the many assembled cultivators were raiding his base for any scraps of demonic cultivation they could find - the exception, of course, being the Lan who took nothing. If he could go back in time and do everything again, perhaps Lan Xichen would change that, but he wouldn’t have claimed Chenqing. Sect Leader Jiang’s claim to Wei Wuxian preceded Wangji’s, much to the other’s discontent, and he deserved to have that piece of his sworn brother. Suibian however...his brother would have liked to have Wei Wuxian’s sword, but Lan Xichen didn’t even know who had it.
“Have you heard one playing?” Lan Xichen softened his voice, watching his brother’s face carefully. The pinching around his eyes, tightened with pain that was more emotional than physical. Wangji did not respond immediately, the quiet of the early night stretched between them as Lan Xichen waited patiently.
“I don’t know,” Wangji confessed. “My dreams have been...difficult.”
Lan Xichen couldn’t say he was surprised by this, “difficult how?”
He could see Wangji considered his response before he spoke,”I dream about him.” The confession was quiet and considered. “Sometimes it's memories - the Sunshot campaign, before….”
“Other times?” Lan Xichen hated to pry into his brother’s most intimate thoughts, but the possibilities were too dangerous to ignore. The light blush that appeared on his brother’s ears told him as much as he needed to know. A sad smile crept across Lan Xichen’s face at his brother’s fate, “I see. And in these dreams, he is playing Chenqing?”
“Hm.”
Lan Xichen considered the information. Dreams of lost loved ones were hardly unusual, or a cause for alarm; but he couldn’t rule out the possibility that these dreams were being inspired by an outside source - a lingering spirit perhaps. Clearing away the tea, as he thought, Lan Xichen found himself resolved. “The healers aren’t coming tonight,” he stated as he put away the tea set. “I will be redressing your injuries,” the last word left a sour taste in his mouth. It had been more than two months since his brother’s punishment and he still struggled to rectify his brother’s treatment in his own mind. He knew it was a kindness from his uncle, Wangji’s punishment. Had it been anyone else they would have surely been executed for their treason, or at least formally exiled. Wangji, however, was still a full member of the Lan sect, his punishment an internal affair that would not damage his reputation in the cultivation world. As far as anyone outside of the Lan family and elders knew, Hanguang-Jun had gone into seclusion before the Siege of the Burial Mounts. The reasons as to why were the common subject of gossip, but most agreed it had to do with Wei Wuxian and his fall into demonic cultivation. Not once had Lan Xichen heard a rumor that was even close to true.
Yet, as he peeled the old bandages from his brother’s back, watching the way the congealed blood pooled and snagged between the soft gauze and the weeping wounds, he couldn’t keep the bile from rising in his throat. A sharp pain pierced his heart with every sharp breath and sob his brother failed to contain, filling him to the brim with the feeling of failure. He wallowed in his deficiency. It was he who had encouraged the cursed friendship. He who practically forced his brother into Wei Wuxian’s arms. And look where it had gotten him: face down on his bed, barely able to move, his back an open wound of cross hatched marks.
Lan Xichen couldn’t stop the tear that rolled down his face as he smoothed the healing slave across his brother’s back. The wounds were hot under his careful touch, as if they had only been placed there the day before, even though it had been months. Intellectually, he knew his brother was getting better. There was new growth here near the spine, and he was certain that the cuts along the right shoulder had been deeper before. He noted every change like a blessing, stringing them into a mandala to meditate on later - a reassurance that everything was going to be alright. It was over. Wei Wuxian was gone. The trouble was gone. All that was left now was healing. His brother would get better. He would finish his seclusion. He would return to the sect with his honor intact and take up his place as the Second Jade of Lan. Everything would return to the way it was meant to be. Yes,...his uncle was right. His uncle was truly merciful. Forgiveness was possible.
“Brother?” Wangji’s bright eyes peered over his shoulder, concern making its way through the pain.
“You need to take your medicine,” Lan Xichen held out the small cup of bitter herbs prepared by the healers earlier in the day.
Wangji took it without question or a grimace, but he was not distracted from Lan Xichen’s weakness. No one could see through him the way Wangji could. Thank goodness his brother wasn’t one to talk about the obvious.
“Brother needs to sleep,” it was an order and Lan Xichen knew it. He watched his brother scoot slowly to the inside of his bed, leaving enough space on the edge for Lan Xichen to lay down.
“I really do,” Lan Xichen hadn’t planned to sleep tonight. He needed to get to the bottom of the mysterious night music plaguing the Cloud Recess, but the bed looked so inviting. He returned the medical supplies to their chest before pulling off his outer robes and folding them across a nearby chair. Pulling off his shoes, he slipped into the bed, laying on his back in the approved Lan sleeping posture. Beside him, his brother let out a satisfied sound of approval, before turning his face away.
Despite his best intentions, Lan Xichen fell asleep quickly and deeply. Luckily, there was no music to be heard that night.
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In the weeks that followed, Lan Xichen spent nearly every night in the Jingshi,
sometimes sleeping, but more often falling into a deep mediation at his brother’s bedside listening for music. Yet, not once did he hear any aside from the natural sounds of the night and the wind. His continued presence at his brother’s side went unquestioned by his uncle at first, who naturally assumed he was simply taking over responsibility from the healers as Wangji’s condition improved and he no longer needed highly trained supervision. But as time passed and Wangji started making strides towards self-reliance, his prolonged stay in the Jingshi came under scrutiny.
“We visited Wangji this morning,” his uncle was sitting across the table from him, a steaming cup of tea clasped in his hand. His uncle’s regular visits to his brother’s room with A-yuan in tow, were of no surprise, but Lan Xichen could tell from the tone that this conversation was leading somewhere.
“I trust you had a pleasant visit,” Lan Xichen smiled kindly, waiting for the shoe to drop.
“We did indeed. Wangji was able to join us for breakfast properly,” the meaning was not lost on Lan Xichen who had been overseeing his brother’s health for weeks. Wangji had been removed from the convalescent diet and returned to the standard disciple diet almost a week and a half before, as he was increasingly regaining his mobility and strength. Added in to small part by the spiritual energy Lan Xichen had been covertly giving him while he slept.
“Yes,” Lan Xichen agreed. “Wangji is healing well, but he is still very weak. I hope you didn’t keep him out of bed for long.” He chose his words carefully, as always he did, allowing for layers of meaning to hide within them. He is getting better, but he is not better. He is still very ill. He is still very weak. He still needs me.
His uncle stroked his beard, studying his older nephew’s face. “Indeed, his posture was lacking.” If it had been anyone else, Lan Xichen would have hated them for the observation, but he knew his uncle. He could see the softness in Lan Qiren’s dark eye that went unnoticed by so many. He could hear the unspoken meaning in his uncle's words as clearly as spoke his own. Yes, he is still ill. He is still weak, but he is pushing himself because he is Wangji. He will always strive to be better than he is, even if it hurts him.
“I have noticed this myself when we eat together,” Lan Xichen nodded. “I find it concerning. It is not like him to be sloppy.” I need to watch him or he will hurt himself. Every time I turn my back I find him trying to carry himself out of bed and go about life as if his back isn’t an open wound.
“It is true, Wangji is not one to allow himself to slouch so, no matter the circumstances.” I am well aware of my nephew’s complete and utter disregard for his own well being. Who do you take me for? “But the fact remains, that his progress is impressive.” You were right to demand the healers and the medicine. Healer Lan Liu has informed me that Wangji is no longer in critical danger. “I think it may be time for him to enter seclusion properly.” Your brother is stronger than you give him credit for. He may still be weak, but he is more than capable of taking care of his base functions at this time. There is no reason for you to be playing nursemaid as if he is on his deathbed.
“I believe that may be premature.” You’re wrong.
Lan Xichen didn’t even try to mask the glare from his eyes and he stared his uncle down. The older man didn’t even blink as he took a sip from his cooling cup of tea. The silence between them crackled with purpose and tension. Eventually, Lan Qiren backed down, placing his cup on the table.
“I think the end of the month would make more sense,” Lan Xichen compromised. “For book keepings sake.” Give me until the end of next week, at least.
“I will see to the records myself,” his uncle nodded. “While we are on the topic, A-yuan…”
“Will be moving back into the Hangshi with me,” Lan Xichen finished for his uncle. “I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you for so long.” I will take care of it.
“It was no inconvenience, A-yuan is an exceptionally well-behaved child.” Lan Xichen could hear the fondness in his uncle’s voice. “As is to be expected from Wangji’s son.” The subject of the child’s origin had never been formally addressed: first, because they were unsure he would live, and then because they were avoiding the necessary unpleasantness. Neither was foolish enough to believe that the child was actually Wangji's - regardless of what he may insist - but the possibility of him being Wei Wuxian’s bastard could not be ignored. Lan Xichen had some idea of where his brother had fetched the child from, but other than that he was a complete mystery.
Lan Xichen took a sip of tea, stalling for what would come next. “He will want to see the child while he is in seclusion.” His uncle made no comment. “I believe it would be beneficial for both to allow such visitation.”
“I agree.”
Lan Xichen looked at his uncle in shock, “you do?”
“I believe the boy is a good influence on Wangji. Even in the limited time they are currently together it is clear that Wangji plans to raise his son properly. In my experience, teaching is a good way to reinforce one's own knowledge and principals.” Lan Qiren’s face had taken on an air of contemplation. “Working with children has a way of forcing people to examine their morals and failings.” The solemn look on Uncle’s face told Lan Xichen that it was not only Lan Zhan he was speaking of.
He wondered to himself what moral failings Lan Qiren could possibly find in himself in the company of the young and innocent A-yuan. “He wants him entered into the clan rolls as his natural son.” Lan Xichen remarked. “The child is to be called Lan Yuan. Wangji has not yet told me what he wants the child’s courtesy name to be, but there is time for that later.”
Uncle grimaced, “and I don’t suppose he told you who the child’s alleged mother was?”
“At one point he claimed to have cultivated him out of a spiritually aware tree, but I’m fairly sure that was a fever dream unless you have seen some evidence that the boy is half yao?” Lan Xichen smiled at his Uncle who almost smiled despite himself.
“I hardly think so,” Uncle shook his head at the absurd suggestion. “The Elders will not be pleased, but it would not be the first time such a thing has happened.”
The comment gave Lan Xichen pause, “Truly?” The question slipped out.
“You don’t actually think in the entire history of the Lan Sect, no one has ever violated the rule regarding premarital affairs?” Uncle scoffed, “Of course, there is usually a mother around after the fact, and a wedding…..” He pet his beard considering his words carefully. “Unless, of course, the mother was...dead.”
Lan Xichen was shocked at his Uncle’s suggestion, “Surely you aren’t suggesting we lie?” A feeling of conspiracy and comradery filled Lan Xichen’s chest. If it was possible, he felt his love for his uncle grow a little.
“Is it a lie?” Lan Qiren asked his flabbergasted nephew. “You aren’t the only one who has been attending our fever ridden Wangji. Would you like to know what he told me when I asked who the mother was?” His eyes grew wide and dramatic, “that boy looked me straight in the face and claimed that ‘Wei Ying gave birth to him.’”
Lan Xichen forcefully closed the mouth he suddenly realized was hanging open. “You don’t think they….actually cultivated him in a tree do you?” The act of cultivating a full human from spiritual energy was the thing of myth and legend. If anyone had asked Lan Xichen two months ago if it was possible he would have been hard pressed not to laugh in their face, but this was the Yiling Patriarch and Hanguang-Jun they were talking about. If anyone in history could figure out how to create life without the natural process, it was liable to be them.
Lan Qiren sighed, “I honestly don’t know. But I think it will be much easier to convince the Elders that Wangji was secretly married to one of the Wen cultivators Wei Wuxian was protecting then to convince them that he cultivated a child out of a tree.” Uncle shook his head, “And if he insists the child is his….” he trailed off, giving Lan Xichen a long suffering gaze.
His uncle didn’t have to finish his thought for Lan Xichen to understand. His brother was stubborn. If he claimed the boy was his, he would not be convinced to change his mind. Punishment or no, Wangji would not abandon his child. If he thought the Elders were going to expel his son, Lan Zhan would go with the boy and all of their efforts to hide his transgressions would be for naught.
“I will speak with Wangji tonight,” Lan Xichen assured his Uncle. “I’m sure he will do what is best for A-yuan.”
With a ‘hmm’ his uncle sat down his empty tea cup and bowed his way out of the Hangshi, leaving Lan Xichen to his work. The day trickled away quickly, the work of picking up the pieces following the war, seemingly never ending. Even now, months after the Siege of the Burial mounds and years of the fall of Wen Ruhan, the ripples continued. There were reports of fierce corpses terrorizing a town to the south, near an old battle field. The number of angry ghosts that were appearing through the countryside was remarkably high. And, of course, there were the copy cat demonic cultivators that seemed to be popping up faster than weeds. According to A-Yao, the Jiang Sect leader was making it his mission to keep them at bay, but with the Jiang Sect so weakened by the burning of Lotus Pier he was stretched thin even without his vendetta.
By dinner Lan Xichen was grateful for his excuse to leave the Hangshi and his work behind and wonder through the peace of cloud recess towards his brother’s house. The evening light stretched low where it slipped between the crags of the mountains, casting a dim blue light over the already cool landscape of his home. Around him, disciples and family shuffled from building to building, making their preparations for the evening meal. On a lark, Lan Xichen took the long way towards the Jingshi, wanting to soak in the calm. His path led him through the dark of the bamboo forest where a thin, winding path cut its way along the back of Cloud Recess. If he followed the path far enough, he would find himself in clearing where his little brother kept the secret warren of rabbits rescued from Lan Yi’s cave. He wondered what his brother would say if he knew how often he went to visit those rabbits himself, taking with him the vegetable scraps from the kitchen.
As he walked, the shadows grew long and dark, but Lan Xichen’s feet knew the path too well to become lost or tripped until, on a drifting bit of wind, he heard it. His breath caught in his chest, his pace coming to a sudden stop as his ears went on high alert. For a moment, he thought he must have been mistaken; but then it came again —the soft calling of a dizi. Forcing himself to breathe regularly, Lan Xichen listened carefully to the soft, low, song of the flute. The song was one he had heard before several times, a love song common in Qinghe - a personal favorite of Huaisang’s. There was no spiritual energy in the music that he could detect nor resentful energy. But….
Like most of the cultivators who had fought in the war, Lan Xichen was familiar with the sound of Chenqing. The haunting melodies of the ghost flute formed the background of too many horrible memories to be easily forgotten; but unlike many of those cultivators, Lan Xichen had the training and the ear to appreciate the beauty and unique tone of the hand crafted instrument. To most it was just a dizi, but as a student of musical cultivation Lan Xichen could hear the way the holes were spaced every so slightly unevenly, how the dark wood of the burial grounds vibrated in a key slightly sharper than normal. The sound of the flute was perfect for its purpose and, no doubt, could never be replicated except by the hands that first made it. Lan Xichen knew, without a doubt, that that flute was currently in the possession of one Sandu Shengshou, nowhere near the Cloud Recess. And yet….in the dark of the bamboo forest he heard it playing.
Without thought, he took off down the path at a pace that outsiders might call a run. He burst out of the forest behind the Jingshi, jumping across the rock garden towards the porch, before he realized the music had stopped. Standing in the familiar garden, Lan Xichen gasped out a pained breath, his panic unwavering. His ears took in every sound, the gentle rustle of the wind, the groaning of the bamboo, the trickle of the nearby steam, the soft twinkling of his brother’s wind chimes, the...snoring? Lan Xichen crept around the back of the Jingshi, careful to avoid the singing boards that formed the floor, and found himself on the side porch overlooking the gentians where his brother was laying on his side, propped up by several pillows, blissfully asleep.
Lan Xichen let out a deep sigh as he took in his brother’s position, resting under the sweetly singing chimes. In the entirety of his life, he had never seen his brother sprawled out in such a fashion. He could only assume that the pillows had been brought by servants earlier in the day when his uncle and nephew had visited so Wangji could brace himself on the floor with his son. That his brother had drug them all out here, to what, take a nap on the porch?
Glancing into the Jingshi, Lan Xichen could see that their evening meal had already been delivered, the boxes sitting expectantly in the middle of the main table. Considering the facts, he doubted the playing would resume. Isn’t what the disciple had said? Whoever was playing knew when he approached and stopped. Lan Xichen felt like a fool. Of course he hadn’t heard any playing in the weeks that he had been staying at the Jingshi, he was there. Looking down at his sleeping brother the puzzle began to put itself together, and idea forming for later. For now, he needed to get his brother fed, bathed, and to bed.
“Wangji,” he knelt beside the sleeping form, gently touching his shoulder. “Wake up.”
His brother gave a small groan of protest, turning his face into his pillow.
“Wangji,” Lan Xichen scolded him. “You need to get up and eat dinner. You can go back to sleep soon. In your bed, where you should be sleeping.”
Wangji gave another unhappy groan, “too hot in bed.”
The true heat of summer was still a month or two off, but the heavy humidity that lingered in the air made the heat that was there tiresome and stifling. Lan Xichen hadn’t noticed the change in seasons, his mind occupied with other things and his golden core long ago trained to regulate his body heat for him. Reaching one gentle hand up to his brother’s forehead, he felt the lingering heat of the day that had soaked into the exhausted body. “You’re not feverish, but I can give you a cool bath.” The cold springs would be the best, he knew, but they were too far and the hour too late. “Regardless, you need to eat.”
Wangji was already forcing himself up, the thin robes doing little to hide the outline of the bandages that still wrapped his torso. A fine veil of sweat broke out along his forehead as he struggled to his feet, held up more by his brother’s strength than his own. Once Lan Xichen had resettled him by the table, he hurried outside to gather up the pillows, stacking them around his tottering brother like a bird's nest.
Lan Zhan made no attempt to set out the meal, sagging sideways against his wall of pillows and watching Lan Xichen rush around through pain filled eyes. “I spoke with Uncle today,” Lan Xichen said, hoping to distract him as he served up the meal. “He wants you to enter seclusion properly at the end of the month.”
Lan Zhan made no response, not even his usual ‘hmm.’
“We agreed it would be best if you continued to see A-yuan. I will bring him with me when I come. He will be staying with me starting next week when I return to the Hangshi,” Lan Xichen rushed through, handing his brother a bowl of stewed vegetables and tofu.
“Brother is leaving,” the whisper was soft and pained. For the first time since he arrived, Lan Xichen stopped moving and met Wangji’s eyes. The brilliant gold was dimmed to a tarnished copper with pain and fatigue.
“I don’t have too,” Lan Xichen’s heart clenched in his chest. “Uncle thought it was best as you have been recovering, but I can stay if you need me….” Tell me you need me. Tell me to stay and I will make Uncle allow it. He begged his brother silently, watching the thoughts play across his face.
“No,” Wangji’s face turned hard. “Brother is busy. You have already wasted much time caring for me when you had responsibilities elsewhere. You need to attend to your duties.” Lan Zhan fed himself slowly, his hands trembling around his chopsticks.
A thousand responses filled Lan Xichen’s mind and remained there unsaid. How could he possibly explain that Wangji was his first and primary duty? That everything else, his cultivation, the sect, the ongoing troubles in the world, were all secondary to his first and primary duty to protect his little brother? He couldn’t. Not for the first time he envied his sworn brother. He had listened to Mingyue rage about Huaisang’s laziness, his lack of cultivation, his endless pursuit of distraction, but never his distance. Huaisang gloried in his elder brother’s protection, and, regardless of what he might say, Mingyue relished providing it. Lan Xichen wished his own little brother was such. What wouldn’t he give to have Wangji hide behind him and let him fight his battle just once. But no, Wangji was not Huaisang, and the very idea of hiding from anything would insult him to the core of his being.
Lan Xichen let the hope go like an autumn leaf into the river, trying to ignore the pinch in his chest as he watched his brother struggle to lift his soup. “In regards to your son,” Lan Xichen forced himself to continue, watching his brother’s face carefully. “Uncle...is working to have him listed in the clan rolls.”
“Hmm,” his brother nodded in satisfaction. Something around his eyes relaxed at the news, smoothing away a nearly perceptible wrinkle on his face.
“The trouble is, we don’t have a mother’s name to put down…” Wangji’s eyes went cold as he met his brother’s gaze. “Uncle is under the impression the boy’s mother may have passed. Perchance one of the Wen?” He let the obvious lie linger in the air, taking in every flex of the muscles along Wangji’s jaw.
His brother’s eyes dropped to look at the floor, his thoughts too difficult to force eye contact. “His mother died in the war,” the statement was short and truthful. “Until recently he was living with his Aunt. She has also passed away. They were Wen.”
Lan Xichen could hear the gaps in the story that his brother left in his effort not to lie. “What was her name?” He pried, gently.
Wangji’s mouth opened slightly, only to snap shut again. He was struggling to find something to say that would neither incriminate his son nor break the truth.
“Wen Ying?” Lan Xichen offered the olive branch.
A sour look crossed Wangji’s face, but he nodded just the same.
Lan Xichen smiled sadly, “Uncle suggested you might have had a secret marriage to this young lady.” He chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood.
“Not secret,” Wangji ground out, stopping Lan Xichen’s heart. “Lan Yi approved.”
“Lan Yi!...” Lan Xichen gasped, “Wangji what...how…” Taking a deep breath, Lan Xichen steadied himself, his mind running wild. “As current Sect Leader I am very upset that you failed to file the appropriate documents with me. The political ramifications…”
“He didn’t know,” Wangji muttered. “He didn’t understand the meaning behind what happened. Even if he had, I doubt Jiang Wanyin would honor such a binding. He made his option regarding such things very clear.”
Lan Xichen felt his brother’s grief as clearly as his own, sinking into the pit of his stomach. He wanted to reach out and hold his brother the way they had when they were children, but he knew his brother’s limits on being touched were already stretched thin from months of being infirm and handled. Instead, he poured his brother a cup of tea and left him to his silence. The peace of the bamboo grove and the gentling singing wind chimes eased the atmosphere of the room.
Lan Xichen left his brother to his thoughts as cleared away the dishes, trying to ignore his own convoluted thoughts. Not wishing to press his brother further, he slipped away from the room and began preparing a tub of water for the evening bath, letting his mind wonder. How could his brother have gotten married without Wei Wuxian realizing? And Lan Yi approved? He wished that this seemed an outlandish suggestion, but having watched how oblivious Wei Wuxian was to the most basic of social clues, it honestly didn’t surprise him. And now...his brother was widowed? A widower? What would the Elders have done if they had known the one Wangji was defending was his spouse? Would it have changed anything? Would they have dragged the two back to Cloud Recess and placed them into seclusion like they had done his parents. Why hadn’t Wangji said anything? Why hadn’t he told him, his brother what was going on. Did he not trust him? Did he think he would be punished? Was he ashamed? The boy he married, in secret, somehow, had gone on to become the most feared cultivator in history. His crimes against nature put even Wen Ruhan to shame.
A sigh over took him as he finished heating the water in the tub. It was too much. Lan Xichen was tired. He had been tired for years now. Ever since his father had passed leaving him in charge far too young. Ever since the yin iron turned up, and the war started, and his home burned, and he fled, and he fought, and he struggled, and….Lan Xichen stopped as he felt movement in the empty room. Casting his eyes around the darling house, he watched the shadows stretching out in the dim light of evening. Something was in the room. His ears peaked listening for movement, his eyes scanned the growing darkness looking for a threat. From the left, he heard a soft sifting of fabric and jumped around to look: there was nothing there.
His breaths were loud in the stillness, his heart an unbearably loud drum in his chest. His nose filled with the lingering scent of smoke, long ago put out, and the tang of copper that had already been washed away by rain. The dim room around him shifted and changed to another room, a hundred other rooms, in a hundred other places filled with bodies.
There, scratching, he threw a metal tin of soap towards the sound in the corner wishing he had Shuoyue at his side. The enemy was small and fast, he watched the dark shadow move with lighting speed outside. The shadows were curling. He was sure he could see them rising and falling, contracting in the faces of resentful spirits as he had seen so many times before.
Standing in the back room of the house, he realized his mistake: the music. Lan Xichen had allowed himself to become distracted. It was a habit he was falling into far too much lately. It wasn’t just his imagination, the Yiling Patriarch had returned. Inside he felt his heart shaking as he strained his ears for music he couldn’t hear. There must be music. That’s how he called the spirits. The spirits...ice cold sweat broke out along Lan Xichen’s forehead. Focusing on his core, he reached out into the energies around him, searching for the resentment that signaled angry ghosts, and found nothing.
The shadows that curled around the room were benign, but he knew he wasn’t alone. He had seen them. Hadn’t he? He was beginning to doubt himself. The shadows in the room laid quiet and still, their edges perfectly normal. Forcing himself to breathe evenly and calm, he listened again. Movement, soft and sure, and definitely there. He was sure of it. Padding through the house, he continued his search, forcing the panic and the remembered smell of corpses down. He reentered the main room to find his brother where he had left him reclining on the pillows with a pot of tea, looking at him with concern.
“Brother?” Wangji turned, watching his brother's careful approach.
“I thought I sensed something,” Lan Xichen offered, taking in the room, and forcing himself to relax out of his battle stance.
“Eh…” his brother sifted in his seat guiltily, a sight uncharacteristic of him.
“Wangji,” Lan Xichen asked, his legendary patience at the edge of a precipice. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
His brother shifted uncomfortably, reaching under the table before him to pull out...a white rabbit wearing a Lan forehead ribbon. “I don’t know how they keep getting here. This is the fifth one this week.” Wangji cuddled the rabbit to his chest, his finger softly stroking back its ears.
Something in Lan Xichen broke looking at his brother holding the innocent rabbit. The rabbit that shouldn’t be there. The rabbit that came from Lan Yi’s cave the same day his brother had apparently gotten married to that... “I heard the music,” the statement was a clear accusation. “Today when I was coming here. I heard the dizi playing.”
“I wasn’t playing a dizi…”
“No, you were sleeping.” Lan Xichen moved to his brother’s side, scooping the small animal out of his arms and leaving him without anything to hide behind. “You were sleeping and I heard a dizi playing a love song from Qinghe. Yet, no sooner had I arrived then the music stopped.” Wangji stared at the floor, at the wall, anywhere but at Lan Xichen’s face. He should be used to that. Wangji had never liked eye contact anymore then he liked being touched, but Lan Xichen couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t stand the distance, the secrets, the lies. When had his brother drifted so far from him?
He had thought… he had thought over the last few months that they had been bridging that distance that had formed during the war, after the burning of Cloud Recess. He had thought they were becoming close again. “Wangji,” it came out as a sob, Lan Xichen collapsing next to his brother, cradling the rabbit to his chest the way he wished he could hold his brother. It was just too much. He was too tired. “Wangji, please just…”
A pair of warm hands brushed away tears Lan Xichen hadn’t noticed he was shedding. “Brother,” Wangji’s voice was warm and worn. “He’s not here. I tried...I played inquiry. Almost everyday after you leave, but he doesn’t reply. He’s…” the words caught in his brother’s throat as the hands fell away from Lan Xichen’s face.
He could see his brother crumbling before him and felt himself still in response. “I believe you,” he sat the rabbit down gently in his brother’s lap. “You need a bath and bed.” His purpose clear again, Lan Xichen conducted his brother around the house, getting him ready to sleep. If his eyes watched the shadows while his brother wasn’t looking, who was to know.
___________________________
As of that morning, Lan Xichen was certain of three things: first, his uncle was the most formidable and loving man that had ever graced Cloud Recess. Watching his uncle take on the Lan elders armed with nothing but a handful of half truths, his wits, and pure unadulterated Lan stubbornness was, perhaps, the most humbling experience of his life. He had known, intellectually, that his uncle had spent most of the last two decades fighting battle after battle for himself and his brother, but to witness his diplomatic ferocity first hand was breathtaking.
Second, Elder Ling was fomenting a full insurrection. Lan Xichen was not surprised that the elders were reluctant to admit A-yuan to the clan given the situation, but he had not been prepared for the unfiltered level of vitriol that Elder Ling had brought to the discussion. The man’s objections to A-yuan being given full clan status weren’t even based on the questionable nature of his parentage. If anything, the man was more than happy to accept that Wangji had run off and gotten married to a Wen woman and had a secret child. However, he was very set on the idea that said, allegedly legitimate child, should not be in the line of inheritance. In fact, the man was set on the idea of removing Lan Wangji from the line of inheritance himself, a position Lan Xichen had not been prepared to deal with.
Third, and most concerning, he was certain, completely, unwaveringly certain, that the Jingshi was being haunted by Wei Wuxian.
_______
Despite what Lan Xichen told his brother as he got him into the bath and later to bed, Lan Xichen did not believe Wangji. Or, more accurately, he believed that his brother believed Wei Wuxian’s spirit was not lingering in the Jingshi, but he also believed he was wrong. Taking up his habitual place beside his brother’s bed, Lan Xichen let himself fall into meditation, listening carefully for the long, deep breaths that told him his brother had fallen asleep. Once he was sure Wangji would not wake, he rose quietly and slipped away along the main path, as if returning to the Hangshi.
He walked slowly, counting his steps as he went and waiting for the tell-tale whistle on the breeze. None came as he wondered back to his own room, which hardly surprised him - Wei Wuxian was no fool. Lighting the candle by his desk with a wave he settled down and busied himself with work counting down the minutes in his head as he did so. Before two hours had passed, he put away his work again and retraced his steps, counting again, this time backwards.
As he drew near the path to the Jingshi he heard the soft wafting of the music and smiled. It was a sweet song, unfamiliar to him but from the rhythm and key he could recognize it as from Yumeng. Another love song perhaps? He walked slowly, his pace measured and sure as he counted down, 305, 304, 303. Closer and closer he drew to his brother’s house. 198, the music stopped. He wasn’t yet close enough to the house to see it from around the curve of the mountain, but the spirit knew he was here already. He continued on as if he had noticed nothing, reentered the house, and slipped into bed beside his brother who was still sleeping deeply.
Over the next week, the last week of his stay in the Jingshi, Lan Xichen repeated his test. Every night, the count got higher. The second night of his patrolling, he didn’t come within 240 steps of the Jingshi before the music stopped, the night after that it was 300. The spirit haunting the Jingshi was aware of Lan Xichen’s comings and goings, and was smart enough to watch for him, though Lan Xichen still wasn’t sure how the spirit was able to sense him from so far away. The clear intelligence of the spirit should have distressed Lan Xichen but instead, he found himself coming to ease with it. The songs that sang through the trees were peaceful and soft. Now that he was expecting them, the sweet tones of the ghost flute called him to sleep as surely as they did his brother.
Until, on the fifth day of the experiment, two days before Wangji was scheduled to enter seclusion properly, there was an incident. The rabbits that had been accumulating around the Jingshi had caught the attention of a pack of wolves who had wandered through the weakened barriers from the outer woods. Lan Xichen blamed himself for the deaths of his brother’s beloved not-pets. After all, it was he who had taken the Jingshi path off of the regular patrol route and said he would take over it himself before promptly forgetting to do so. As such, it was he who had failed to recharge the protective talismans for the last three months, causing the barriers to become weak. Yet, the information the accident provided was valuable enough that he couldn’t bring himself to regret his dereliction of duty.
When he heard the music as he was walking back from the Hangshi, his feet began sprinting before he could realize what he was doing. This song he knew. This song haunted his nightmares as well as his brother’s. The song that rang through the woods on the fourth night was not a soft lullaby played for his brother, but a familiar battle song that brought blood and death across the rice patties and plains during the Sunshot campaign.
Lan Xichen rounded the corner at sprint, Shuoyue in his hand undrawn, and came to a dead stop. The path before him was red with carnage, bits of bunny fluff scattered over the blood strewn path. But where there should have been bunny bodies, there were instead tiny, furry, fierce corpses. The reanimated rabbits lunged at the remaining wolves, driving them back towards the bamboo forest, their eyes glowing red in the night. The wolves, covered in long red gashes from sharp bunny teeth, were retreating in confusion letting out pathetic whimpers and whines as they went. The fierce rabbit corpses followed them as they fled, chasing the larger animals away from their living relatives, their rage unabated at the wolves’ retreat.
“Killing is forbidden in the Cloud recess,” Lan Xichen’s voice brought the music to a halt. Without the flute’s battle cry to hurry them along, the rabbits ceased in their pursuit of the wolves, forming a phalanx along the path. Lan Xichen and the reanimated rabbits both watched as the wolves faded into the darkness of the night. He knew he would have to follow them and ensure they returned to the greater forest beyond the Cloud Recess’ borders, but for the moment Lan Xichen stood in the renewed quiet of the night waiting… “Are you going to say anything?” he asked the night. “Or are you going to simply pretend you aren’t here?”
His response came in the form of the fierce corpses lying down slowly, the resentful energy seeping out of them like a dark whisper, returning them to their natural state. The music did not return.
“So, once again I get to clean up your mess,” Lan Xichen muttered, ignoring his own role intentionally. He rubbed his eyes, fatigue filling him as he tried to imagine how he would explain this to Wangji, only to have his thoughts interpreted, by the small, and apologetic, ringing of a bell. Had it been day, he likely wouldn’t have heard it. The small, sad, ring was barely more than a sigh, but in the quiet of the night it rung out like the dim twinkle of a far off star. At first, Lan Xichen thought he may have imagined the noise, but then, it came again. A tentative ring of bell, calling him towards the Jingshi. Leaving the mess behind for a moment, Lan Xichen followed the singing of the bell, finding himself on the porch near Wangji’s wind chimes.
Despite the chaos that had brought him running to the Jingshi earlier, the night was still. There was no wind. There was no rain. The night birds and the insects both were well away in their roosts. The only movement around the Jingshi was Lan Xichen’s own and mute quivering of the remaining rabbit. Yet, standing outside of his brother’s room, Lan Xichen watched as the small silver bell, hanging so innocently front the bottom of his brother’s chimes, gently rang itself.
Reaching forward, he could practically feel the bell trying to pull away from his hand as he wrapped long fingers around it to pull it down. He didn’t know what he had expected to find, but a silver bell wasn’t it. Resting in his palm, the metal of the bell was surprisingly warm, as if only moments ago the sun had been streaming down on it. Lan Xichen could not sense any lingering resentful energy that would signal a ghost, instead, as he probed he felt the calm warmth of residual qi.
A sad smile found its way across his face, despite himself. “Of course,” he whispered to the bell. “My apologies, I should not have forgotten you were a Jiang before you were the Yiling Patriarch.”
The warmth from the bell flared in forgiveness.
“But you should not be here,” he spoke in his most soothing voice, trying to talk reason to the spirit. “If you linger you will disrupt your cycle of reincarnation.”
The bell rolled, a happy little jingle, the echo of familiar forgotten laughter. If Lan Xichen hadn’t been watching the bell so closely, he likely wouldn’t have noticed the thin, ghostly red ribbon that hung from where the missing tassel should be. Even in the light of the moon, the spiritual remnant was dim and thin, too weak to form a proper manifestation. But Lan Xichen’s eyes were keen and trained and he followed the almost invisible red ribbon into the Jingshi, to his brother’s room, where he found the other end tied securely around Wangji’s wrist. Looking between his brother’s sleeping form and the bell, Lan Xichen sighed. “Are you sure you can’t move on without him?” he asked vainly. “There are many forms soul mates can take. Surely there is a pregnant woman somewhere in Cloud Recess you could inconvenience?” He winced at the thought of the chaos Wei Wuxian would wreck reincarnated into an unsuspecting Lan household, “A rabbit...he would love it if you were a rabbit.”
The bell jingled a soft laugh at him as the ghostly ribbon faded away. The soft tinkle of the bell elicited a contented sigh from Wangji, who slept on, oblivious of the moral conundrum unfolding mere feet from him. Looking down at his brother Lan Xichen steeled himself, “fine.” He fixed the bell in his hand with a stern look, “You may stay, but you must follow the rules.” Lan Xichen wondered if adding a number of spirit specific rules if it would draw undue attention. “Don’t pretend you don’t know them, Wangji told me about what you did at the Wen Indoctrination.” If it was possible for a spiritual bell to squirm, it was doing its best.
“No more...fierce rabbits, or playing music after curfew.” The bell grew hot in his hands in indignation as a soft stirring of gentle flute music filled the air. The song was as familiar as breathing, a common lullaby. In his mind, Lan Xichen could hear the phantom baritone of his uncle singing him to sleep. “I know,” he whispered, ignoring the memories the music evoked. “But people can hear you. It’s making them ask unfortunate questions.”
The music filtered away as the bell grew cool. The room around them seemed to darken with the absence of the other’s influence. ‘Wei Ying?’ The mumbled cry came from his brother, who was still sleeping mere feet away. ‘No…’ Wangji twitched in his sleep, reaching out as if searching for something. Lan Xichen eased himself onto the bed beside his brother, taking the reaching hand in his own. Even in his sleep, Wangji’s grip was firm - perhaps even crushing, as he gripped at the shadows of his dreams.
Lan Xichen cursed mentally, contemplating his imminent departure from the Jingshi. “Just once, I would like to win an argument with you two,” he snipped at the bell. It warmed gently in response, letting out calming twinkle. “I don’t suppose you have any ideas about how to explain the night music?” He asked the offending bell.
The small silver bell stilled, as if thinking. Lan Xichen could almost see the fragment of Wei Wuxian’s spirit flicking his nose, as his mind wandered the twisted recesses of his deviously brilliant mind. The stillness of the night crept by as the two carefully considered their options, until...in the thin light of early morning, the bell rang out in happy laughter.
_________________________
It had been a long time since Lan Xichen had been to Caiyin town. His position as Sect leader, elder brother, and uncle didn’t leave him much time for personal leave, but, in this matter, he couldn’t find himself to trust another. A part of him felt cruel, leaving his brother alone on his last day before he entered seclusion, and yet, on the return up the hill he found himself walking slowly, taking in the beauty of Gusu in summer.
“It will be a long time before you can leave Cloud Recess again,” he whispered to the bell, newly strung with a fine, silk cord. At one point, the bell, like all Jiang clarity bells, had featured a lotus charm and purple tassel, where they had gone, Lan Xichen did not know. Returning the bell to its original state had crossed Lan Xichen’s mind, but the rich purple of the Jiang clan was too obvious to ignore, and he knew it was best if the bell was ignored. Instead, the bell now found itself strung up with a cool, Lan blue tassel and white jade cloud charm. “I do hope you follow our agreement.”
The silver bell let out a happy ring from where it hung from the brilliant, white dizi Lan Xichen carried tucked under his arm.
“Well then,” Lan Xichen looked back over the road. “It seems it’s time to go home.”
__________________
There is a music that plays in the night of Cloud Recess after the disciples have gone to sleep. The soft creaking of tree limbs that sway in evening breezes, the coo of night birds, and sweet melodies of a white dizi played in the Jingshi. It is well known in Cloud Recess that the honored Hunguang-jun went into seclusion after the events of Nightless City, though few know the reasons why. If you ask the Elders they will tell you his seclusion is voluntary so he may focus on his cultivation; but if you ask the disciples assigned to rounds, who hear his nightly playing, they will tell you he is in mourning.