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Chapter Text

Jiang Yanli is the one to suggest it. She comes swooping in as always after Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng have another argument, and this time beyond soup and comforting words that they’ve both grown used to, she offers a plan. 

“Are you serious,” Jiang Cheng says, squinting at his older sister like that’ll make her make sense. “They’re going to snap and kill him within a month.”

“Hey,” Wei Wuxian objects immediately. “Don’t you mean try to kill me?”

“No,” Jiang Cheng says absently, but jerks upright when he notices Wei Wuxian trying to make off with his soup. “Hey! Watch those thieving hands!”

“A-Xian, don’t steal his soup,” Jiang Yanli intervenes immediately. “Jiang Cheng, be nice.”

They both scowl at each other but then smile at her, settling back around the pavilion’s table. The small, square pavilion they’re gathered in is on one of the far edges of Lotus Pier, calm waters lapping at the wooden sides. 

“Are you serious?” Wei Wuxian asks after a moment of silence. 

“But he needs to stay and help us rebuild,” Jiang Cheng says immediately. The thought reminds him of their fight, and he shoots a glare at Wei Wuxian.

“But what would we even get out of it,” Wei Wuxian says, bewildered.

“Right now, we are the strongest sect,” Jiang Yanli says. The brothers share a look, neither wanting to be the one to tell her that that’s not true, but she’s still talking. “But only because of A-Xian. And the other sects don’t trust A-Xian, because they don’t know him. But if they just got to know him–”

“Then everything will be sunshine and rainbows?” Jiang Cheng scoffs. “I’m telling you, they’ll kill him within the first month.”

“I don’t care what they think of me,” Wei Wuxian says, almost offended at the thought.

“A-Xian,” Jiang Yanli says, still gently, but there’s a tremor in her voice. “A-Cheng. Please. They’re afraid of A-Xian because they don’t understand him, but if they just knew that he’s a good person–”

“I–what!” Wei Wuxian squawks. He reaches for her hand and grips it tightly, his cheeks coloring. 

“Am I wrong?” Jiang Yanli demands. She turns to Jiang Cheng. “Am I wrong?”

Jiang Cheng swallows a spoonful of soup harder than he should. “No,” he admits, the word pulled from clenched teeth. “But still–what would we even tell them?”

“That A-Xian has volunteered to live as a guest in each sect for three months,” Jiang Yanli answers. “To ease their fears about his demonic cultivation.”

“That makes them sound like paranoid idiots,” Jiang Cheng says thoughtfully, and Jiang Yanli only smiles in response. 

Wei Wuxian swallows his next complaint with a mouthful of soup and thinks for a second. “But I can’t go to the Lan sect,” he says. “And…I don’t want to go to the Jin sect.”

“If you are a guest of the Lans, they will not do anything,” Jiang Yanli counters.

“Well,” Jiang Cheng says, “I suppose there’s a difference between a guest disciple and a guest…but would they rather uphold their impeccable hospitality or, you know,” he waves vaguely at Wei Wuxian, who doesn’t even bother to act offended.

“Yes,” Jiang Yanli says firmly.

“Maybe,” Wei Wuxian admits.

Because here’s the thing: Wei Wuxian is tired of living with the secret of his golden core hanging over his head like a noose. He’s tired of constantly letting down Jiang Cheng, who needs his support, and the Jiang disciples, who need a Head Disciple. He doesn’t want to leave Lotus Pier, but he also needs some time away–away from the memories, away from the people, away from the responsibilities he’ll never be able to fulfill again. Maybe after nine months, he’ll have figured something out. If he can just clear his head long enough to think, he’s sure he can. 

“But he doesn’t care about his reputation,” Jiang Cheng says, a tad bitterly. 

“I do,” Jiang Yanli says. Her cheeks flush when they look at her in surprise. “I just–I won’t always be able to protect you, A-Xian.”

“That’s,” Wei Wuxian says, silver eyes wide. “I don’t want–I don’t need you to protect me–” He reaches for Jiang Yanli’s hand, but she yanks it away.

“But I always do!” Jiang Yanli says, raising her voice. Her hands are visibly shaking before she hides them in her sleeves. “I am always intervening, whenever–” she cuts herself off and presses her lips together.

“Jiejie,” Jiang Cheng says, somewhat worriedly, “you don’t have to stop.”

“You’re right,” Wei Wuxian admits, putting his soup bowl down guiltily. 

She is right. He doesn’t ask her to, he would never ask her to, but she is always the one stepping forward or intervening whenever Wei Wuxian gets the wrong sort of attention in public. Wei Wuxian doesn’t cause trouble on purpose, but he doesn’t want Jiang Yanli to have to protect him forever. Isn’t it time he grew up?

Wei Wuxian doesn’t care about his reputation, and never will, but he does care about Yunmeng. If the only way he can help is by convincing the sects that he’s not evil or crazy (okay, he’s maybe a little crazy, but not that sort of crazy), then he’ll do it.

“I’ll do it,” Wei Wuxian says abruptly, shocking both of his siblings.

So this is Wei Wuxian’s plan: he’ll go to the Nie sect first, because that’s the only one he’s sure he’ll get through. He’s already friends with Nie Huaisang, and even if he doesn’t get along with Nie Mingjue, at least he respects the man. That’s where the only possible source of tension will come from: not the sect leaders disrespecting Wei Wuxian, no one (not even Wei Wuxian) would care about that, but from Wei Wuxian disrespecting the sect leaders. 

Wei Wuxian puts the Lan sect second, because he’s only half-sure he’ll make it out alive. Well, that’s an exaggeration, but Lan Zhan didn’t spend the entirety of the war trying to get Wei Wuxian to come to Gusu because they’re fond of demonic cultivation. Wei Wuxian knows that Lan Zhan is pretty much the paragon of Lan rules, but if he was badgering Wei Wuxian about it all throughout the war–from the very moment they reunited, without so much as a hello, how’ve you been –then Wei Wuxian has little to no hope that he’ll convince the Lans that demonic cultivation isn’t that bad within three months.

The Lan sect is the only one that Wei Wuxian expects will lower their view of him over the course of three months, not that it’s particularly high at the moment. But he guesses, or rather hopes, that it’ll be in a good way. If he goes from the fearsome, uncontrollable inventor of demonic cultivation to an uncontrollable pest that they can barely stand to look at without their disdain for him blinding their eyes, then that’s…an improvement. It’s the failure that Wei Wuxian hopes for, anyway. 

He expects constant attempts at cleansing at best, not to mention the complete lack of food with taste and climate (“I’m not going there during winter.” “Fair,” Jiang Cheng says) and the rules. At worst, well. In Gusu it’s fair to give a guest disciple 100 lashes for breaking curfew. That’s lighter than Madame Yu, although she never made a curfew, but she did find some sort of joy in beating Wei Wuxian, but it’ll still be life-crippling for a non-cultivator. So basically, the worst that could happen is that they retroactively find out about Wei Wuxian’s missing golden core, because he’s dead, and then he won’t be there to explain himself to Jiang Cheng. 

Look, Wei Wuxian will be the second person to admit that he’s paranoid, but it’s not easy to get through war without seeing death around every corner. Especially since he recently lost his golden core. He also has first-hand experience with the Lans, and there’s no way he’ll get through three months without badly breaking their rules. He knows they’ll treat a guest Head Disciple differently than they’d treat a guest disciple, but he doesn’t know by how much, and he’s at the mercy of whatever they decide.

Wei Wuxian also doesn’t particularly want to see Lan Zhan. Or, well, he does very much want to see Lan Zhan, but not like this.

Lastly, Wei Wuxian doesn’t want to go to the Jin sect because the Jins are trash. They’ve been trying to recruit him for almost a year now, as if Wei Wuxian would ever abandon the Jiangs–for the Jins, no less!–and Wei Wuxian doubts that they’ll suddenly grow a moral backbone in the six months before he has to go there. That said, he doesn’t expect any major trouble from them, just their usual insufferable personalities and intolerable sect leader. 

So if Wei Wuxian, by some miracle, makes it out of the Lan sect alive, then he’ll go to Lanling. But if, more likely, he ends up high-tailing it out of Gusu because they’re about to do something that’ll paralyze him for life, then he never has to suffer through Jin Guangshan and his stupid peacock of a son.

But first: Qinghe Nie.

 The great forested mountains of Qinghe sprawl across the horizon, and Wei Wuxian stands at the bottom, with an annual supply of spices, various notes and sketches, and both Suibian and Chenqing tucked in his side. The rigid stone fortresses of the Nies rise halfway up the mountain, and not for the first time, Wei Wuxian feels the deep, aching loss of Suibian before he gets back on his horse and heads up the mountain. 

The room he’s given is close to Nie Huaisang’s rooms. In theory, he has his own private dining room, and everyday a servant brings meals to his room, but in practice he eats dinner with Nie Huaisang every night in Nie Huaisang’s private rooms. It almost feels like their year studying at the Cloud Recesses again, except without Jiang Cheng, and of course Qinghe doesn’t have any wine as good as Gusu’s Emperor’s Smile. Not that it was easy to enjoy some Emperor’s Smile in the Cloud Recesses. 

Wei Wuxian spends the first week jumpy, on his toes at all times, waiting for Sect Leader Nie to ask something of him. The sudden move to the chilly mountains of Qinghe has left him utterly bereft. There’s absolutely nothing for him to do. In Lotus Pier, the work for him to do was just piling up everyday. Put together a training schedule for the new junior disciples, come up with sword forms for the new senior disciples to run through, drill all of the formerly outer, now inner disciples on Jiang sword forms, make sure all their other skills–arrays, talismans, archery, etc.–were up to acceptable levels, find a way to categorize the newly repaired Jiang library, oversee the rebuilding of the buildings destroyed by the Wens, coordinate night hunts for the disciples–the list was endless.

Now there’s nothing. Jiang Cheng isn’t around to ask him to do any of it, and apparently the Nies don’t want anything from him. No one asks him why he hasn’t been training with Suibian. He spends the entirety of the first week talking with Nie Huaisang and watching him paint for hours and hours. After such an active past couple of years, Wei Wuxian can’t believe that he’s now watching paint dry, but that’s exactly what he’s doing.

“I can’t believe you agreed to go back to the Cloud Recesses,” Nie Huaisang comments on the eighth day. 

They’re sitting in a small garden courtyard, sequestered far away from the main halls of the Unclean Realm. Nie Huaisang doesn’t take his eyes off his painting, on which the valleys of Gusu are outlined. Wei Wuxian is slumped on his side, idly playing with an array of his invention and jotting notes as thoughts occur to him. He rests his chin with one hand, gaze meeting the trunk of a tree squarely. 

Wei Wuxian shrugs with the shoulder not on the ground. “I’ll get through it,” he lies. 

Nie Huaisang pauses from his art to raise both eyebrows at him. “I thought they wanted you cleansed of resentful energy.”

Wei Wuxian snorts. “Good luck with that,” he mutters. “Look,” he says, at a conversational volume. “It’s not their choice, is it? I’m not a member of their sect.”

“But you’ll be their guest,” Nie Huaisang points out.

Wei Wuxian uses the hand that’s holding his brush to wave away Nie Huaisang’s concern. “I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it,” he says cheerfully. For now, he’s resolutely not thinking about it. 

Nie Huaisang presses the end of his brush to his chin in thought. “It’d be too bad if something happens during your stay there,” he says finally. “And you decide to call it off, and never make it to Koi Tower.”

Wei Wuxian sighs. “You know me too well, Huaisang,” he says. 

A rare unhidden smile creeps up on Nie Huaisang’s face, and he turns around to hide his expression. “It’s not my fault you’re predictable,” he complains. “I don’t know much, I really don’t!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Wei Wuxian puts down his brush and flops onto his back, staring up at the gray clouds. He lifts his head to observe Nie Huaisang’s slim frame, adorned in green and gold, so focused over his painting. He can’t help but think of Lan Zhan. Nie Huaisang and Lan Zhan are both heirs to their sects, but Wei Wuxian can’t imagine Lan Zhan whiling away his days painting and avoiding responsibility–or worse, just watching someone paint and avoiding responsibility, like Wei Wuxian is doing. He can’t even imagine Lan Zhan being able to look at Wei Wuxian’s current posture without taking it as a personal insult.

“NIE HUAISANG!”

Nie Huaisang jumps in place, spilling ink all over his painting and ruining it. “Oh no no no,” he mutters, hastily packing up his art supplies. 

“Is this happening before my eyes?” Wei Wuxian wonders out loud.

Nie Huaisang shoots him a baleful glare. He gathers up the two fans he painted today and shoves them into Wei Wuxian’s arms. “Protect my fans,” he insists. Then he spins around and runs, disappearing into the foliage of the courtyard within moments and vanishing into the vast Nie fortress through the eastern exit.

Nie Mingjue stomps into the courtyard and stops when he sees Wei Wuxian lying on the ground, discreetly shoving the fans under him. “Have you seen Huaisang?”

Wei Wuxian blinks innocently at him. “I have no idea where he went.”

Nie Mingjue sighs. “Of course not.” He starts striding out of the garden, in a different direction from Nie Huaisang, when Wei Wuxian works up his courage to speak. 

“Sect Leader Nie?”

Nie Mingjue stops, back still turned, and Wei Wuxian swallows before continuing. “Is there anything you’d like me to do, while I’m here?”

Usually Wei Wuxian needs something to do, or he goes stir-crazy within a day. He’s enjoyed the past week; he’s been more relaxed than he has been in the past three years combined, but after a week of it he’s at the end of his rope. He knows Nie Mingjue is a straightforward person, so he hopes that he’ll give him a straightforward answer.

“No,” says Nie Mingjue.

Straightforward indeed. “Then can I ask,” Wei Wuxian begins, and then asks without waiting. “Why did you agree to this?”

Nie Mingjue looks back at him, and Wei Wuxian finally remembers to stand up and greet him properly. If anything, the belated show of respect only serves to make the corner of Nie Mingjue’s lip curl in amusement. He glances down at the fans now plainly lying on the ground.

“Huaisang vouched for you,” he says finally, and visibly hesitates before adding: “He doesn’t have many friends.”

“Ah,” Wei Wuxian says tactfully. Then he grins. “Then as a friend, I am duty-bound to tell you that Huaisang left through to eastern exit.”

Nie Mingjue frowns almost comically at him, attempting to outthink Wei Wuxian for several seconds–is he trying to trick Nie Mingjue into going west? It is a double-bluff? A triple bluff?–before he gives up and huffs, whirling away and stomping through the western exit. 

Wei Wuxian’s peals of laughter ring through the courtyard behind him as he goes.

After that, Wei Wuxian finds himself eating dinner with both Nie brothers, and after hearing how candid Nie Mingjue is about politics, he ends up actually taking notes.

“I trained to be Jiang Cheng’s second-in-command, but I don’t know how to help him lead a sect,” Wei Wuxian explains. 

“You should take notes too,” Nie Mingjue suggests to his brother. His face is stoic, but Wei Wuxian can tell he’s amused to no end.

Nie Huaisang wails and buries his head in his sleeves. “But I’m not going to be the sect leader!” He cries. “Wuxian is just helping his brother!”

“You could help your brother too,” Nie Mingjue points out, and Nie Huaisang’s scream is muffled by his gold-embroidered robes.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Nie Huaisang moans.

“But Huaisang,” Wei Wuxian says, oh-so innocently. “Back at the Cloud Recesses you couldn’t shut up about how much you wished there was someone to help your brother–”

“I did not!” Nie Huaisang yelps.

“–everyday you were all ’ooh, I want to practice my saber everyday’–”

At Nie Huaisang’s horrified expression, Nie Mingjue actually throws his head back and laughs.

Here’s the thing: Wei Wuxian is, after the Burial Mounds and years of demonic cultivation, intensely attuned to all sources of resentful energy. So the more time he spends with Nie Mingjue, the more his attention is drawn to Baxia. It’s not his place to ask about it, but Wei Wuxian’s supposed ‘place’ has never stopped him from doing anything. He wonders if this is why Chifeng-zun, known for never bending his principles, is so lax about his demonic cultivation. 

But before Wei Wuxian can actually ask, he runs into Wen Qing.

It must have been an accident that she wandered into Qinghe, because the worst place for a Wen on the run to go is Qinghe. Nevertheless, Wei Wuxian runs into her on the streets of the city, her robes threadbare, her cheeks sallow.

“Wen Qing?” Wei Wuxian asks in astonishment. “What happened to you?”

Wen Qing clutches his sleeve and tells him.

“I’ll take you to Sect Leader Nie,” Wei Wuxian decides. When Wen Qing stares at him in horror, he elaborates. “I know he hates Wens, but he wouldn’t blame the innocent for the crimes of the guilty. He probably won’t agree to free the rest of your family, but he’ll probably agree to offer you shelter.”

Wen Qing’s mouth presses into a thin line that says she doesn’t trust that, but she also doesn’t have any other choice.

“Nie Mingjue is a fair man,” Wei Wuxian insists. “He’d probably let you live here if you agreed to work as a medic. And if he doesn’t,” he adds, “then I’ll leave with you. Whatever happens, I’ll protect you.” Then his steps falter. “Oh no,” he says.

“What is it?” Wen Qing asks, warily.

“Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian replies. “He’s going to be so mad when he learns I staged a revolt without him.”

Nie Mingjue’s face wears a thunderous scowl as Wei Wuxian steps up to present his case.

“Sect Leader Nie,” Wei Wuxian says formally. His voice echoes around the stone entrance hall. “This is Wen Qing, former head doctor of the Wens.”

“I recognize her,” Nie Mingjue says. His face is set in steel.

“She and her brother protected Jiang Cheng and I when the Wens attacked Lotus Pier,” Wei Wuxian continues. “If it weren’t for her, there’d be no Jiangs left today.”

Nie Mingjue shifts on his throne to direct his intense gaze at Wen Qing. “You did not defy Wen Ruohan until the war,” he says flatly.

Wen Qing stands ramrod straight. Wei Wuxian didn’t even have to tell her that Nie Mingjue doesn't appreciate toadies, wouldn’t appreciate it if she groveled and begged for mercy. He appreciates strength, and for all Wen Qing’s faults, she’s never lacked for strength. 

“No,” Wen Qing admits. “I didn’t.” She hesitates for the barest of moments before adding; “Neither did you.”

Nie Mingjue’s nostrils flare. “I could not,” he rumbles. “Not when it would mean the death of my people.”

Wen Qing looks him squarely in the eyes. “Neither could I.”

Nie Mingjue holds her gaze for one more infinite seconds before he relents, slightly. “Fine,” he says, rising from his throne. Baxia swings by his side, and Wei Wuxian can smell the resentful energy coming off it. “If you’re lying about your family,” he warns Wen Qing, “you will regret it.”

Wen Qing nods stiffly, and the deal is made.

By the time the first month is over, the Nie medic wing has doubled in size, and Wei Wuxian has gained another friend.

Wen Ning joins Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang in their adventures around Qinghe, and if Nie Mingjue is disappointed that his brother’s new friend is a Wen, well, he’s happy that his brother is making new friends. And Wen Qing sends her little brother off with them everyday, because she does trust Wei Wuxian with Wen Ning, though she denies it if asked.

“He’s just too easy to bully,” Nie Huaisang says delightedly one day. 

“I know,” Wei Wuxian agrees. “Even you can bully him!”

“I know!” Nie Huaisang agrees. It’s so hard to offend Nie Huaisang personally that Wei Wuxian has given up trying. “Even I can.”

The two of them watch Wen Ning struggle to balance their large pile of purchases in his arms. He almost gets knocked over by every person passing him by on the busy street.

“Are we getting anything else?” Wen Ning asks breathlessly when he finally reaches them.

Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang exchange a look, suddenly ashamed for taking advantage of Wen Ning. 

“Yes,” Wei Wuxian declares. “Wen Ning, you can’t possibly go around the Unclean Realm wearing those gray robes all the time. We’re getting you new ones! Huaisang, you’re paying.”

Nie Huaisang rolls his eyes but follows.

“Let’s go on a nighthunt,” Nie Mingjue says randomly one day at dinner. 

Wei Wuxian shoots a worried look at Nie Huaisang. He’s been pushing the meat around his plate for the past ten minutes. It’s been harder for him to stomach meat ever since the Burial Mounds, but he usually destroys the memory with a metric ton of spices. Jiang Yanli supplied him with more than enough for himself, but he’s been sharing his spice supply with the Wens, who haven’t been able to enjoy spice in their meals for years. 

“Uh,” Wei Wuxian says. “Why?”

“You can tell a lot about a person from how they fight,” Nie Mingjue says bluntly.

Wei Wuxian smiles weakly, thinking of Suibian, stashed in the back of his room. He hasn’t taken it out or touched it since he got to Qinghe. 

“You should go,” Nie Huaisang says cheerfully. He turns his puppy eyes on Wei Wuxian. “Please?”

Wei Wuxian knows that Nie Huaisang is far more perceptive than he lets on, but surely he hasn’t guessed as to the real reason that Wei Wuxian doesn’t want to go night hunting. He’s just seeing a way to get back at Wei Wuxian for all his teasing. 

“Uh,” Wei Wuxian says again. He thought he had long grown used to the ways of younger brothers, but Jiang Cheng has never behaved like this before. 

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” Nie Mingjue says, likely noticing how uncomfortable Wei Wuxian seems.

“What? No!” Nie Huaisang turns his puppy eyes on his brother. “I’ll take over all your work for the day,” he wheedles.

Nie Mingjue squints at him, then swings his massive head to look at Wei Wuxian. “We’re going on a night hunt,” he says.

Wei Wuxian sighs, once again outwitted by Nie Huaisang. “Fine,” he says.

“There’s been reports of water ghouls in the river,” Nie Mingjue says. “I thought that would be your area of expertise.”

Wei Wuxian and Nie Mingjue are standing at the edge of one of Qinghe’s pine forests. Twilight passes through the trees, sweeping orange light across the clouds above. 

They dismount from their horses and leave them with the townspeople of the riverside village before walking upstream. Nie Mingjue glances at Wei Wuxian’s waist, noting the conspicuous absence of Suibian, but he says nothing. The thick forest forces them to weave around the edge of the river, ducking under low-hanging branches and stepping over exposed roots. 

Nie Mingjue and Wei Wuxian fall into an intense silence, listening to the steadying rushing of the river to their right. 

“I sense resentful energy further upriver,” Wei Wuxian says when Nie Mingjue pauses. 

He reaches for Chenqing, fingers clenching around the dark bamboo; a habitual comfort action. His eyes spark red, and he can see traces of demonic cultivation running through the bottom of the river. 

“Right there,” Wei Wuxian says, abandoning his flute briefly to point at it.

Nie Mingjue glances back, takes in his red eyes and predatory gaze, then follows the path of his finger to the spot in the river he’s pointing at. 

The river gurgles, a low sound rumbling from its depth. Bubbles spring to the surface, temporarily obscuring their view of the water’s surface. Wei Wuxian used to have much better night vision–and vision in general–before his golden core was removed, but now he uses demonic cultivation for the same purpose. 

The stenching of rotting corpses hits their noses right before the ghouls spring to the surface, and then three things happen in quick succession:

First, Nie Mingjue and the water ghouls all roar at the same time, but Nie Mingjue unsheathes Baxia and sends it flying across the water in the time it takes most cultivators to reach for their sword. Bright light flashes from the saber, splitting the dark pine forest.

Second, the roar of the water ghouls turns into shrieking, but that shrieking is joined by the shrieking of a distinctly human voice. Wei Wuxian gets a crick in his neck from turning so fast. A small family of three, two parents and a girl of five or so, are on a raft downriver, in the direction of the town that they came from. 

Third, one of the water ghouls speeds down the river and looms out of the water right in front of the raft, causing the child to shriek and the parents to clutch each other. 

Wei Wuxian’s attention is immediately diverted, and he whistles sharply, stilling the water ghoul briefly. But it’s too late: the girl flings herself out of her parents arms in an attempt to get away, and falls right over the side of the raft. 

“I’ll get the kid!” Wei Wuxian shouts, without looking back. It’s not like Chifeng-zun can’t handle a few water ghouls without him.

Without hesitation, Wei Wuxian throws himself into the river after the girl, who has already been swept under the raft and carried further downriver. He dives hands-first into the water, and the shock of cold hits him all at once. The river water is far cooler than the water of Lotus Pier, and he’s not mostly immune to the cold like he once was. 

Wei Wuxian’s robes and Chenqing drag against him, but he surfaces and barely manages to snag the sleeve of the girl. Swimming against the current with a child in tow takes far more energy than he would like, but Wei Wuxian is still a Jiang. The current quickly pulls them far away from the water ghouls, and Wei Wuxian pulls them at a diagonal, trying to keep her head above water and paddle at the same time. 

They’re far out of sight of the water ghouls by the time that Wei Wuxian thrusts the girl out of the water. She’s gasping and crying heavily, but Wei Wuxian has no time to worry about that as he hauls himself out of the water, gasping for breath as well.

The two of them take another minute to catch their breath, shivering in the cool night air. 

“M-mister Cultivator,” the girl says, and Wei Wuxian resolutely ignores whatever feelings may or may not arise from being called cultivator. “What’s that?”

Wei Wuxian follows her shaking finger and squints. Fading into the darkness behind the thick pines is a large stone structure. It takes Wei Wuxian another minute to find a talisman and light it, but when he does, his eyes blink in the orange light in surprise.

“It’s a burial hall,” Wei Wuxian says without thinking.

When Nie Mingjue finally finds them, Wei Wuxian is standing outside of the Nie Ancestral Hall with the girl now sleeping in his arms. His confident steps falter, and his face whitens, but before he can speak Wei Wuxian beats him to it.

“So that’s why your saber is like that,” Wei Wuxian says, smiling crookedly.

It makes so much more sense now, why Nie Mingjue is so accepting of his new style of cultivation. To someone like Nie Mingjue, as long as he can control it, he’s fine.

Sect Leader Nie stares at him, and Wei Wuxian wishes he knew him well enough to know if he’s scared, worried, or furious. Still, it doesn’t change Wei Wuxian’s reaction.

“I can fix it,” Wei Wuxian says. “Give me three weeks.”

Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing manage it in two. 

By the time the third month rolls around, Wei Wuxian has barely left his room in two weeks. There’s dark circles under his eyes, his hair is a bird’s nest, he can’t remember the last time he changed his robes or took a bath, and there’s ten thousand ink stains invisible on his black robes. The floor of his room is more paper than stone; the aftermath of a windstorm or a haunting.

He dragged Wen Qing with him, and Nie Mingjue hovers around anxiously, looming awkwardly in the doorway as the two geniuses bend their heads over their copious notes. Wei Wuxian is determined to have results before he has to leave for Gusu, even if Wen Qing tells him it’s impossible. That’s his true area of expertise. 

Nie Huaisang drags them and Wen Ning to dinner the night of, making it the first time that two Wens have sat at Sect Leader Nie’s table. 

“We’re never doing this again,” Wei Wuxian says, resting his forehead on the table. 

Nie Mingjue snorts. “I should hope not.”

The Nies are very private people, but not very big on propriety. Any semblance of such went out the window the first time Nie Huaisang recruited Wen Ning to bully his sister and Wei Wuxian to the dinner table. 

“I hate you,” Wen Qing says, with feeling. “I can’t believe you put me through this.”

“I didn’t know we’d do it this fast!” Wei Wuxian protests. “I couldn’t go to Gusu without finding a solution,” he adds, through mouthfuls of heavily seasoned pork. 

“One month!” Wen Qing fires back. “You have one month! What are you going to do during the next month, cure–” She bolts upright. “Wait,” she says, a manic gleam in her eyes. “I think–I can’t believe I didn’t think of this–you can–” she breaks off, darts a glance at the two Nies out of the corner of her eyes.

Nie Mingjue frowns at them. “Is this about the reason why he won’t touch Suibian?”

Wei Wuxian nods reluctantly, exchanging a glance with Wen Qing.

Nie Mingjue continues frowning at Wei Wuxian, but not his usual frown, which says I’m about to explode in rage. This one says I’m disappointed in you. Wei Wuxian hates it. It makes him squirm in place. 

“You know the centuries-old secret of the Nies,” Nie Mingjue says heavily, an undercurrent of disapproval running through his voice. “Is that trust not a two-way road?”

Nie Huaisang’s eyes bounce back and forth between them. He raises his fan high enough to cover his nose. Wen Qing looks to Wei Wuxian for his move. 

Wei Wuxian knows the story of Nie Mingjue and his sworn brothers vaguely. From what he’s gathered, Jin Guangyao betrayed him in some way and Nie Mingjue was going to kill him before Lan Xichen intervened. This doesn’t bode well for Wei Wuxian’s chances of getting Nie Mingjue to side with him in any conflict with the Lans, but that’s besides the point. Wei Wuxian knows that Nie Mingjue takes trust and betrayal very seriously, and he doesn’t want to be the one to break it.

He also couldn’t be forced to spill this secret if you held a knife to his throat.

Wei Wuxian swallows a bite of pork uncomfortably. “It’s a secret I planned to take to my grave,” he says weakly.

Nie Mingjue only nods solemnly. “And I will, as well,” he says calmly. “If you want Huaisang to not hear it–”

“Hey!” Nie Huaisang interrupts, fluttering his fan furiously. “First you kept the saber from me, and now you want to keep this from me?!” He glowers at both of them in outrage. He huffs when he doesn’t get the capitulation he wanted. “It’s about your golden core, isn’t it?”

Wei Wuxian puts his head in his hands. “Really?”

“What!?” Nie Huaisang cries, fanning himself hard. “I assumed, based on the research you’ve been doing…” he smiles nervously when he sees his brother’s stare, and fans himself even harder. “It wasn’t that hard to guess, I don’t actually know! I really don’t know!”

“Sect Leader Jiang had his core destroyed by Wen Zhuliu, and Wei Wuxian asked me to transfer his core to Sect Leader Jiang,” Wen Qing says bluntly. “Sect Leader Jiang doesn’t know.”

Nie Mingjue nods slowly. “So that’s why you haven’t touched Suibian,” he muses. “And what is it that you think you can do about that?”

“I think Wei Wuxian can cultivate another golden core,” Wen Qing says promptly. 

“B-but you can’t cultivate a golden core if you don’t start during childhood,” Wen Ning points out.

“He did cultivate a golden core during his childhood,” Wen Qing says. “And his meridians weren’t crushed; spiritual energy still tries to run through them, it just doesn’t have anywhere to go. If we can find a way to transfer large amounts of spiritual energy properly–”

“And we just did,” Wei Wuxian interrupts, silver eyes sparking with excitement. “I could– I could–” He presses a hand to his chest, where his golden core should be.

“Am I correct in assuming Sect Leader Nie would be willing to help?” Wen Qing asks.

“Of course,” Nie Mingjue says immediately. His lips twitch. “Huaisang, I think this means you have to take over my duties again.”

Nie Huaisang screams into his teacup.

The first time Wei Wuxian draws Suibian in years, his arms shake, both from the effort and the awe. He can’t believe he once took cultivation for granted. Wen Ning helps him run through exercises in a private courtyard, using wooden swords until Wei Wuxian gets back into shape. 

It takes two tries before Wen Qing and Wei Wuxian get the energy transfusion right, and both Wei Wuxian and Nie Mingjue spend the next day passed out while Nie Huaisang runs interference. Then Wei Wuxian practices from after breakfast until he collapses, running through everything a cultivating child does at twenty times the speed. 

Wen Qing has to force him to slow down, because any mistakes this early in golden core formation would cripple his further growth. She makes him sit through meditation sessions and checks on his progress at least twice a day.

By the time the third month is over, Wei Wuxian becomes the only person to cultivate a golden core twice. 

It’s barely formed, weak and easily depleting, but it’s there. 

“I can find a way to postpone your visit, if you want,” Nie Huaisang offers, a few days before Wei Wuxian is due to leave for the Lan sect.

Wei Wuxian rubs his chest unconsciously, enjoying the comforting weight of his golden core. It’s a habit he’ll have to stop soon. “There’s no point,” he says. “I’m not here to cultivate a golden core. I’ll just have to find a way to continue working on it in secret.”

It shouldn’t be a problem. If there’s one thing the Lans respect, it’s privacy. 

Nie Huaisang shrugs. “Suit yourself,” he says. “But you’ll let me know if the Lans cause you trouble, right?”

Wei Wuxian does a mock double take. “Who is this helpful person and what have you done with Nie Huaisang,” he jokes.

Nie Huaisang whacks him with a closed fan. “Rude,” he complains. Then his tone softens. “I know my brother said it already, but we really do owe you a lot,” he says. “You and Lady Wen.”

Wei Wuxian shifts uncomfortably. “Well,” he says finally, scratching the back of his head. “Tell your brother to put in a good word for me with Zewu-jun?”

Nie Huaisang nods solemnly, an echo of his brother. “He did already, knowing him,” Nie Huaisang admits cheerfully. “But I’ll tell him anyway.”

The Gusu mountains rise pristine and regal into the sky, their peaks blanketed in clouds. Once again, Wei Wuxian stands at the foot of the mountains, craning his head all the way up. He still has to get there on horseback and by foot, even though he’s got a golden core again. Currently, all he can do with his golden core is stand on his sword and wobble for a few seconds before it gives out on him.

Wei Wuxian makes the trek up the endless staircase leading to the Cloud Recesses, each step one he swore never to take again.

Just three months, he reminds himself. It’s not that bad. Just three measly months.

Then again, in three months in Qinghe, Wei Wuxian managed to get fifty-odd Wens accepted into the Nie fold, solve a centuries-old curse that countless Nie sect leaders had suffered and died from, and cultivated a second golden core. 

He’s on time, because Wen Qing bullied him into leaving on time, so there’s a welcome party waiting for him when he finally reaches the top of the steps. 

Four Lan disciples stand behind Sect Leader Lan. None of them are smiling.

Lan Xichen does, though. “Welcome back to the Cloud Recesses,” he greets.

“I’m honored,” Wei Wuxian says weakly, trying not to look at the Lan disciples while paranoid vision after paranoid vision runs through his mind.

Just three months, just three months, what can go wrong in three months–

Wei Wuxian straightens out of his bow and his gaze meets Lan Zhan’s blank stare. Gusu’s heir stands next to his brother stiffly, formally returning Wei Wuxian’s greeting. His golden eyes bore into Wei Wuxian, and he feels like he’s been caught sneaking out past curfew again, except this time he doesn’t have any friends, this time if he embarrasses himself it’s not just a junior disciple making a fool of himself, he’s the Head Disciple of Yunmeng Jiang, and any mistake he makes will be taken as proof that demonic cultivation ought to be banned, and it definitely doesn’t help that he stood up for the Dafan Wens two months ago, and Lan Zhan is still staring at him–

Wei Wuxian already wants to go home. 

 If you want to see the stuff I'm working on, check out my Tumblr. It's where I put scenes/skits from ideas that didn't make a full fic. The beginning of chapter two is there!

Chapter Text

Summer rolls in hot and sweltering to Lotus Pier, intolerable to nearly anyone who’s not a Yunmeng native. Shimmering heat waves roll across the calm waters, sneaking past the wood paneling of Lotus Hall, painted white with beautiful purple lotuses splashed across the middle. 

Inside Lotus Hall sit Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli, gathered around a table with piles of paper spread across it. Their violet and lavender sleeves trail across the wood, and Jiang Yanli absently brushes a lock of hair that fell over her shoulder back. 

“This is more work than he’s done in the past year,” Jiang Cheng mutters. 

In his hands he holds a detailed, if unorganized, training plan for the new Jiang juniors. Wei Wuxian has written suggestions for night hunts, and diagrams for sword forms and footwork. Jiang Cheng has been bugging him about training them for the better part of a year, since he’s uncomfortable with ordering Wei Wuxian to do something, but accustomed to yelling at him, yet it seems the moment he was gone Wei Wuxian suddenly found time to help remotely. 

“Look at this!” Jiang Cheng says incredulously, waving one of Wei Wuxian’s letters in his sister’s face. “He says he’s looking forward to teaching the kids when he gets back! Where was this Wei Wuxian all of last year?”

“Maybe a break was all A-Xian needed,” Jiang Yanli suggests.

Jiang Cheng scowls and puts the letter down. He almost asks why he can’t have a break, why Jiang Yanli didn’t suggest that he go on a nine-month vacation, but he already knows why. He’s the sect leader, for one, and Wei Wuxian is the one who needs to restore his reputation, not Jiang Cheng.

And it seems that Wei Wuxian is working hard on that. Besides the piles of notes on disciple training (and sect politics. If Wei Wuxian were here, Jiang Cheng would yell at him for daring to suggest he needs help, but since he’s not Jiang Cheng can admit that he really does appreciate them), and Wei Wuxian’s personal letters (in a rare vulnerable moment at the end of his most recent letter, which Jiang Cheng is considering hanging up on his wall, Wei Wuxian admits that he’s been recovering from “a lot of things,” and the change of pace has helped him pick up Suibian again), there’s a letter from Nie Mingjue.

“What do you think of Sect Leader Nie’s offer?” Jiang Cheng asks reluctantly.

Jiang Yanli breaks out into a wide smile. “I think it’s a great idea,” she says, just like Jiang Cheng had expected. 

Jiang Cheng looks back down at the letter. There, in Sect Leader Nie’s bold handwriting, is a proposal for a sworn brotherhood between Sect Leader Nie’s younger brother, Jiang Cheng, and Wei Wuxian. Sect Leader Nie doesn’t talk about his personal feelings about Wei Wuxian, but clearly Wei Wuxian won him over if he’s proposing this. Everyone knows how much Sect Leader Nie adores his little brother. Jiang Cheng could certainly tell, from how Nie Huaisang acted back at the Cloud Recesses.

He’s not sure how he feels about being sworn brothers with Nie Huaisang. They’re friends, sure, but they’re not brothers the way Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian are. Brothers that have bled and cried together. But then, Nie Mingjue plainly wrote in his letter that the sworn brotherhood would be political in nature. It would give the Jiangs strong ties to another great sect, at a time when Nie Mingjue’s sworn brotherhood and the broken engagement between Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan has cut the Jiangs out. Nie Huaisang is the heir to the Nies, after all, whereas Jin Guangyao is behind Jin Zixun. And the most important reason to Jiang Cheng, the one he doesn’t want to think about because–

“It would finally let us call A-Xian our brother in public,” Jiang Yanli continues, still smiling, and Jiang Cheng’s stomach does little flips.

Their mother had forbidden Wei Wuxian from even entertaining such notions, after all. And their father hadn’t pushed the issue, content as always to let the resentment fester where it couldn’t touch him. Jiang Cheng wonders at his father, sometimes, that he would take Wei Wuxian in but not officially adopt him, that he would treat him better than his own son but fail to protect Wei Wuxian from his wife’s violent temper, that he would rescue Wei Wuxian from the streets in a benevolent act of kindness to his departed friends, but expect service in return. 

Jiang Cheng tries not to think about it, as it does no good when both his parents are dead, nor do such thoughts make a filial son. But he can’t help but think of how his parents would react now, if they knew he was considering becoming sworn brothers with Wei Wuxian. His mother would be incandescent with rage, that much Jiang Cheng knew, but would his father be proud? His father, who had never bothered to adopt Wei Wuxian but always liked him better than Jiang Cheng anyway? Is Jiang Cheng an unfilial son if he simply chooses not to care?

He’s so glad that Nie Mingjue already thought of that.

“Sect Leader Nie says that A-Xian and Nie Huaisang became as close as brothers during his visit,” Jiang Yanli says, watching Jiang Cheng’s face do funny things without comment. 

He feels irrational jealousy at that, just the thought that he might have to share Wei Wuxian with another brother. Even though Nie Huaisang would be his sworn brother too, and he knows it’s just for politics anyway; they’re closer to casual friends than the brotherhood Nie Mingjue claims.

“But of course it wouldn’t do to have Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian become sworn brothers alone,” Jiang Yanli concludes, eyes twinkling with mischief. 

“And three is a good number,” Jiang Cheng croaks. He clears his throat. “Well. If you think it’s a good idea. Then I suppose.” He hesitates. “Can you write to him about it?”

“Why don’t we wait to tell him?” Jiang Yanli suggests. 

Jiang Cheng frowns. “Why? Wouldn’t it give him more security, dealing with the Lans and the Jins?”

Jiang Yanli bites her lip. “I want to surprise him,” she admits. “I just can’t think of a better welcome home present, and don’t you think he’d rather have the ceremony in Lotus Pier?”

“I guess,” Jiang Cheng says, relenting. He rather does like the idea of welcoming Wei Wuxian back to Lotus Pier with a sworn brotherhood, even if he’d rather die a painful death than admit so to Wei Wuxian’s face. 

Jiang Cheng shoves Nie Mingjue’s proposal across the table. He’ll have to respond to Sect Leader Nie later, and explain his and Jiang Yanli’s plan, but not right now. Right now, he sits and ponders how strange it is that he’s been brothers in all but blood with Wei Wuxian for the majority of his life, but only now does he feel the urgent need to make it officially so. Suddenly, half a year for Wei Wuxian to return feels like an eon.

“I can’t believe he stood up for the Wens,” Jiang Cheng says, his eyes falling on the letter that begins Jiang Cheng, don’t be mad at me.

“A-Cheng,” Jiang Yanli says reproachfully. “We know Wen Qing and Wen Ning. Isn’t it good that A-Xian has solved that problem without involving our sect?”

He’s our heir, of course he involved us, Jiang Cheng almost says, but he knows what his sister means. So instead he subsides, grumbling to himself. 

“Well,” Jiang Cheng says, determined to get one last belligerent comment in, “the Lans better treat him well.”

Wei Wuxian’s stay in the Cloud Recesses starts to go wrong from the very hour he arrives there. 

Lan Xichen is there to greet him, far more warmly than the rest of his sect. He leads Wei Wuxian from the entrance and to his guest quarters; a small cottage not far from the junior disciple quarters, nestled at the end of the path that runs past the Gusu Library and the Orchid Room. It escaped the burning by nature of being so out of the way and irrelevant to the Wens’ war effort. 

“I’m afraid breakfast is still at 5:30 in the morning,” Sect Leader Lan says as they walk. “And we are still quite vegetarian.”

Wei Wuxian grins faintly at the memories Lan Xichen’s gentle ribbing invokes, suddenly hopeful that his stay at the Lan sect won’t be that bad. The lack of meat bothers him less, as he’s still using excess spice to get through it. And he still has his spices from home to add to his meals, not to mention money from Jiang Cheng and both Nie brothers to buy anything he wants from Caiyi. 

“I brought my own spices,” Wei Wuxian assures him cheerfully. “And I promise to only drink alcohol outside of the Cloud Recesses.”

Lan Xichen also smiles faintly. “I imagine some of our juniors might want to try your spices,” he says.

Wei Wuxian’s footsteps falter just as they approach his new abode. “The juniors?” He echoes.

“Oh yes,” Lan Xichen says. “You’ll be eating meals with the Lan juniors. I assume you still remember where that is.”

Wei Wuxian nods dumbly, and Lan Xichen presses a jade token into his hand before sweeping off, leaving Wei Wuxian on the porch of his new home. 

That… sounds like an insult. Why would the Jiangs’ Head Disciple, recognized as an adult by every possible metric, not to mention infamous for being the deadliest fighter of the war, eat his meals with the junior Lan disciples? It makes no sense, other than to belittle Wei Wuxian. But why would Lan Xichen do that? Sect Leader Lan isn’t supposed to be like Sect Leader Jin, and why in the world would Lan Xichen respond to his sworn brother’s letter of recommendation by assigning Wei Wuxian to eat with the children? 

Wei Wuxian doesn’t mind children. He likes them, in fact. But he’s pretty sure, based on three months of hearing the Nie brothers argue at the dinner table (“Da-ge I still don’t understand why we can’t just murder him.” “Nie Huaisang–” “He’s only a hypothetical sect leader!” “Nie Huaisang–!” ) have taught him that this move is intended as an insult. But Wei Wuxian knows Lan Xichen, if only a little, and such an underhanded move really doesn’t seem like him. Moreover, the sect leader taking the time to show Wei Wuxian around is a sign of respect, isn’t it? Isn’t it? 

Wei Wuxian hates politics. He would like to go home to Lotus Pier, now, please. 

Unfortunately, that’s just not an option anymore, and so Wei Wuxian walks into his new cottage, dumps Chenqing, Suibian, all his notes and arrays and stores of spices onto the empty table, and settles himself in for a long three months.

Ultimately, Wei Wuxian decides that ignorance is bliss. He knows that eventually all of the Lan sect’s problems with him will come to a head, but until then he’s content to pretend Lan Xichen meant well and avoid all conflicts like a virus. 

His avoidance strategy works for all of a week, which is longer than either Jiang Cheng or Wen Qing would have given him. He spends this first week hiding out in his room, never leaving before nine in the morning. When he does leave, it’s literally to run for the hills, where he finds a secluded grove on the mountain to work on his cultivation. He only returns for lunch and dinner, where he sits at the end of a row of silent, nervous Lan disciples, and proceeds to pour hot chili all over his rice. 

By nine in the evening, Wei Wuxian retreats to his cottage to work for another couple of hours, writing letters and jotting down notes on his progress and potential combinations of spiritual and resentful energy. Eventually, he finally falls asleep on his bed or over his desk, exhausted and alone. 

It’s on one of those nights, when Wei Wuxian faceplants into his bed, that he realizes he hasn’t spoken to another human being in almost a week. The last time he went that long without speaking to anyone, he was in the Burial Mounds. The very thought makes him want to crawl out of his skin. 

Wei Wuxian is a social creature by nature. He’s used to being unwanted, but never has he had absolutely no one to talk to. Even during the four long years he spent alone on the streets, he could always find someone to talk to, though he never had anything to say. 

Wei Wuxian thinks of the dozens of Lan juniors all watching him nervously out of the corner of their eyes, and wonders, for the hundredth time that week, what Lan Zhan has been up to. He hasn’t seen Lan Zhan since the very first day, when he could feel his golden eyes boring into Wei Wuxian’s back as Lan Xichen led him to his guest house.

Vaguely, Wei Wuxian recalls that he’s supposed to be doing this to restore his image. Hiding away seems like the best solution to the problem of him being incapable of ever making the Lans like him, but Wei Wuxian is so lonely that he’s about to attempt the impossible just so that he has someone to talk to. He’s been avoiding Lan Zhan because if they talk they’re likely to start arguing about demonic cultivation, which is detrimental to Wei Wuxian’s purpose here, and he really doesn’t want to argue with Lan Zhan again. 

It doesn’t help that back during the war, Wei Wuxian could always retreat to the Jiang encampment, but now he’s in the lair of the beast, so to speak, where the beast is the Lans’ hatred for demonic cultivation, and by extension, Wei Wuxian. He’s at a conflict with himself now, because part of him wants to annoy Lan Zhan into being friends with him again, but the rest of him know that doing so would look bad for the Jiangs. Back when they were children, it mattered less whether some Jiang disciple was pissing off the Lan heir, but now that Wei Wuxian is who he is, he truly cannot afford to.

Wei Wuxian’s dilemma is solved when Lan Zhan himself approaches Wei Wuxian the very next morning. 

It’s a cloudy day in Gusu, and Wei Wuxian is just high enough on the mountain that the thick white clouds roll across his clearing, weaving in and out of the pine trees surrounding him. Suibian cuts through the fog, flashing silver in the dimmed sunlight. The grass is damp but not wet, and Wei Wuxian’s boots slide just slightly out of place as he skids to a stop. 

Wei Wuxian lets the tip of Suibian rest on the ground as he pauses to catch his breath. Once he could do this routine without breaking a sweat, but now he’s panting heavily, wiping his forehead with the back of his arm guard. His golden core spins weakly in his chest, struggling to keep up. It’s only because Wei Wuxian is so afraid of losing his golden core a second time that he’s not depleting it every single day. His plan is to be mostly on his way to the level of cultivation he had before the war, which really, truly, should be impossible to cultivate within six months. But just because he probably won’t manage it doesn’t mean that Wei Wuxian won’t try.

A sharp wind blows through the clearing, and Wei Wuxian’s black sleeves flutter and billow out. Chenqing sways slightly at his side, tied securely to his belt. His hair, pinned up high and out of his face by a bright red ribbon, flutters as well, trailing across his back. He shakes his wrists out, rolling the tension out and flexing them hard. He breathes in deeply and closes his eyes, letting the musky scent of pines and the crisp morning mountain air hit his senses. 

A rustling to his left alerts Wei Wuxian to the presence of something, and his eyes fly open. His left hand fastens over the hilt of Suibian, and his right goes to Chenqing. 

Lan Zhan walks into the clearing, and Wei Wuxian blinks twice. 

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian greets, cheerfully enough considering he was almost caught. If Lan Zhan had arrived just a minute earlier, he would’ve seen Wei Wuxian struggle with a basic sword form he first learned at age thirteen. “What are you doing here?”

“Practice,” Lan Zhan replies succinctly. Bichen dangles from his belt. He’s dressed, like Wei Wuxian is, for practice. Wei Wuxian considers telling him that he looks good in that, but he would look better if he wore color, but deems it redundant. He’s sure he’s said that before.

“Oh,” Wei Wuxian says lamely. 

He hasn’t seen Lan Zhan here at all, and he’s been practicing in this clearing for a week. But it’s just like Lan Zhan, to have a secluded little spot in the Gusu mountains to practice in, a place where he doesn’t have to talk to anyone. And here Wei Wuxian is, unknowingly barging in on it. He wonders briefly if he should bother figuring out how often, and when, Lan Zhan actually uses this clearing, but decides that it’s suspicion he doesn’t need. Plus, he can always find himself a new clearing.

“I didn’t know you’d claimed this spot first,” Wei Wuxian continues, sheathing Suibian in one smooth motion, like his sword isn’t getting too heavy for him to lift. “I’ll get out of your way.”

“You misunderstand,” Lan Zhan says to Wei Wuxian’s back, and he stops in his tracks, a meter from the edge of the clearing. “I came to practice with you.”

Wei Wuxian spins easily, and sees Lan Zhan’s eyes flicker down to Suibian’s sheathe. All at once, years of anger and self-loathing hit him like a firestorm. All the years they were at war, he spent refusing to go to Gusu for the Lans’ “treatment,” refusing to pick up his sword and unable to truthfully tell anyone why. It wasn’t exactly self-loathing that he felt back then, but he’d hated not being able to tell Lan Zhan that he would pick up his sword again, if only he could. And a buried part of him knew that with every argument he was pushing Lan Zhan, whose friendship he held so dear, further away from him. But it was anger that fueled every one of his arguments: frustration that Lan Zhan just couldn’t let it go, desolation that Lan Zhan would choose to blindly follow his sect’s rules rather than judge for himself the value and virtue of Wei Wuxian’s demonic cultivation, fear that Lan Zhan already had and found Wei Wuxian wanting, and yes, anger that he would throw away the friendship that Wei Wuxian had labored so hard, albeit inefficiently, for.  

It is anger that surges in Wei Wuxian now, when Lan Zhan’s eyes leave Suibian and return to his face. Anger that sparks in his silver eyes as he holds Lan Zhan’s stare and realizes that he thinks he’s won.

Because Wei Wuxian is in Gusu. Because Wei Wuxian has picked up his sword again. But he’s not giving up demonic cultivation, so long as it does no harm. The Lans aren’t going to be able to talk or force him out of it, and frankly, Wei Wuxian is relishing the thought of them trying. Yet he is once again, unable to explain any of this to Lan Zhan, and so he laughs it off.

“Ahaha, Lan Zhan, you should’ve come earlier,” Wei Wuxian says, scratching the back of his neck. “I just finished practicing! No spar today, sorry.” He throws in a smirk for good measure. “Maybe next time,” he says flippantly, and then he very casually runs away.

Wei Wuxian runs off through the pines of Gusu, blindly heading down the mountain. It’s only when he’s sure that Lan Zhan didn’t follow that he allows himself to wonder why Lan Zhan wanted to spar with him. 

It’s the demonic cultivation again, he thinks bitterly. It’s no surprise that Lan Zhan, who spent every spare moment during the war hounding him about his cultivation, would continue that trend once he’s actually got Wei Wuxian in Gusu, seeking him out to bother him about his practice and attempt to make Wei Wuxian see the error of his ways through Lan Zhan’s inherently superior methods.

I suppose turnabout is fair play, Wei Wuxian muses, thinking of all the times he sought Lan Zhan out just to bother him, back when he was a student and not a guest. But the fairness or lack thereof doesn’t change the hollowness in Wei Wuxian’s chest, somewhere deep below his golden core, that reminds him how bone-crushingly alone he is here.

The next Lan to seek him out is Lan Xichen, the morning after his failed practice session. Wei Wuxian steps out of his cottage, attempting to rub the circles out of his eyes, and squint at the bright figure of Gusu’s youngest sect leader standing on the path outside his door.

“Good morning,” Lan Xichen says.

“Haughagh gah,” says Wei Wuxian. “I mean. Good morning, Sect Leader Lan.”

Lan Xichen is smiling pleasantly again. Wei Wuxian thinks maybe he should stop, that way Wei Wuxian would know when his smiles are real. Nevertheless, they bow at each other politely, and Wei Wuxian belatedly remembers to feel self-conscious about his inappropriate attire. But it’s too late to pull up his hair into anything respectable, or fix his rumpled robes, so he gives up caring.

“We’ve scheduled a weekly appointment with our doctors for you,” Lan Xichen says.

Wei Wuxian blinks. “Now?”

“Healer Lan Mingxia isn’t available for very long,” Lan Xichen replies. “She has a long list of patients to see.”

“Then I wouldn’t want to bother her,” Wei Wuxian says smoothly. He wonders if it’s not too late to just turn around and go back to sleep. He probably would do it, too, if it were anyone but the sect leader.

“I must insist,” Lan Xichen says, still smiling.

Wei Wuxian is starting to think that sending their sect leader out as a glorified errand boy is not a sign of respect.

“I’m not injured or sick,” Wei Wuxian says. “Surely her other patients need her more.”

“It will not take long,” Lan Xichen responds. “It’s only a checkup.”

Wei Wuxian can feel his smile starting to wear thin. “If this is about my demonic cultivation, then Sect Leader Lan should know that I will not be giving it up.”

“That is a concern,” Lan Xichen admits. “However, Wangji tells me that you have picked up spiritual cultivation again.”

Wei Wuxian represses the urge to break something. He wants to say that he’s not here to have his every move reported by a network of Lans, but that is more or less what he’s here for. He wants to admit that he would’ve practiced with Lan Zhan, spent hours with him, even if he knew that Lan Zhan was only doing it to report back to his elders. Lan Zhan would’ve told him, if he asked; he doesn’t lie. It’s just that I came to practice with you feels like it should be a lie.

Somehow, Wei Wuxian manages to swallow all of that down. “Yes?”

“That’s good to hear,” Lan Xichen says, smiling widely. “I am sure with the help of our doctors, you can recover fully.” He gestures with one white sleeve. “Walk with me.”

Seeing no other choice, Wei Wuxian does so. 

“I can’t believe Lan Zhan betrayed me like that,” he tries to joke, while they walk.

“Wangji is worried about you,” Lan Xichen says serenely. 

They pass the library. A shimmering summer breeze rolls past them, swaying the grass around the path. 

“I understand it is difficult to return to spiritual cultivation when you have spent so long cultivating resentfully. But surely you know that Wangji is willing to help you.”

Wei Wuxian’s smile tightens at the corners of his mouth. He isn’t sure if he’s being pitied or ridiculed. What is he even supposed to say to that? “Of course, of course,” he says. “That’s Hanguang-jun for you.”

Lan Xichen dips his head in acknowledgement, but he clearly still doesn’t think he’s funny. That’s okay, Wei Wuxian will wear him down. “My brother’s concern is more…personal in nature,” Lan Xichen says, with the air of a man confessing a secret he meant to take to the grave.

Oh, it’s personal?

Well that’s just rude.

“Ahaha, nooo, Lan Zhan, really?” Wei Wuxian tries to laugh it off, but Lan Xichen isn’t laughing. “That’s, uh, that’s Lan Zhan for you,” he finishes lamely. He pulls himself together. “I don’t need his help,” Wei Wuxian asserts. “If I needed his help, I wouldn’t be here.”

Lan Xichen’s still smiling at him, but Wei Wuxian gets the impression that he’s mad at him. He wishes he would just say what his problem is, instead of letting Wei Wuxian fall over himself trying to figure out how to not offend Zewu-jun.

Their conversation stalls as a pair of Lans pass them by on the path and exchange polite bows with Lan Xichen. The healer’s building peeks out from behind tall branches framing the path and bushes of soft purple flowers. The sound of a distant waterfall builds in volume as they near. 

“I understand,” Lan Xichen says, but somehow Wei Wuxian gets the impression that he really doesn’t. “May I ask why?”

Why? Why? Isn’t it obvious why? Why does Wei Wuxian feel like they’re having two different conversations? “If I was having trouble controlling my cultivation–which I’m not–I wouldn’t leave home for nine months,” Wei Wuxian points out. 

“I see,” Lan Xichen demures.

Once again, Wei Wuxian gets the impression that Lan Xichen does not see, but he doesn’t know what Lan Xichen does see. 

The screen doors of the hospital building are wide open, so Wei Wuxian and Lan Xichen walk right in. Inside, a Lan cultivator is sitting on a mat on the floor, hands folded in his lap. A tall woman dressed in powder blue robes stands behind him, hands pressed against his back. She steps back to greet her sect leader properly, and the man sitting on the floor stands up to do the same.

“You’re making good progress,” Lan Mingxia says to the man, shooing him out the door. “Return next week.”

The man says his thanks and leaves, and Lan Mingxia takes Lan Xichen and Wei Wuxian up to the second floor. The square room is open-air, save for the wooden columns and bars running along the perimeter of the room. White banners sway slightly inside from the summer breeze, and the entire outer edge of the ceiling is covered in talismans. On the floor, a massive array is drawn in black across the wooden planks.

“I set up the array this morning,” Lan Mingxia says, as Wei Wuxian inspects it. “I don’t imagine there are any problems with it, Head Disciple Jiang. May we begin?”

Wei Wuxian wasn’t inspecting the quality of the array, he was inspecting the purpose. He has no doubt that Lan Xichen found the best Lan healer; it’s not her abilities he’s questioning, just her motives. But the array is one he recognizes, and there’s no modifications that he can see–though he can’t imagine why the head Lan healer would go against convention, and modify an established array–so he nods and steps into the array.

At once, the array lights up, red light blazing from the black lines. A wind whirls out of the array, sending all the talismans and banners aflutter. The ends of Lan Xichen’s forehead ribbon flutter as well, as do his sleeves when he pulls Liebing out. Wei Wuxian doesn’t see what he does after that, because a cloud of black smog bursts from his body, billowing out until it floods the entire array, pressing against the edges. His whole body rattles in its frame like a beaten drum, his teeth clacking and neck snapping back. 

“This is worse than I thought,” Lan Mingxia says, but there’s a roaring in Wei Wuxian’s ears that drowns out any other sound.

Wei Wuxian places one hand on Chenqing as a safety measure, but he doesn’t do anything but wait for it to end. He doesn’t know why the Lans want to know how much resentful energy is festering in his body, but surely now that they’ve gotten what they wanted, Lan Mingxia will stop it.

The next thing he hears is the low notes of a flute. Wei Wuxian whirls around, because it’s not his flute, and there’s Lan Xichen, playing a soothing melody infused with spiritual energy. Wei Wuxian isn’t sure if it’s Calming or Cleansing, all he knows is he can feel the way the resentful energy that’s protected him for the past several years begins to pull away. Behind him, Lan Mingxia pulls out a guqin and helps him disperse the resentful energy. Trails of gray smoke drift from the array and out of the room. The talismans light up bright blue as it passes, and the small clouds of resentful energy disperse with a small puff.

An immeasurable panic rises in Wei Wuxian, stomach churning with an acidic mixture of emotions. His hand shoots out, and as always, the resentful energy responds to anger better than it does to serenity. Thick coils of resentful energy twine around Wei Wuxian’s arm, and he brings Chenqing to his lips to play a single, piercing note, cutting across the harmonies of Lan Xichen and Lan Mingxia’s music. The resentful energy coalesces back around Wei Wuxian until he’s completely obscured from the outside. He takes his right hand off of Chenqing to bring it down in an arc that mimics yet another sword form he can no longer perform. The resentful energy follows, a writhing mass of shadowy snakes that burst across the wooden floor in a giant plume of smoke.

When the smog clears, the resentful energy has returned to Wei Wuxian, and the array is broken. Lan Mingxia has backed up to the edge of the wooden railing, and Lan Xichen braces Liebing like he’s ready for a battle. 

“Why did you break it?” Lan Mingxia snaps. “We were dispersing the resentful energy!”

Wei Wuxian takes two deep breaths, wrestling back the surge of anger that neither her words nor the resentful energy help him with. “Perhaps I did not make it clear,” he says slowly. “I will not be giving up demonic cultivation.”

“You can’t possibly plan on living like this,” Lan Mingxia retorts. “That’s more resentful energy than I’ve seen in the fiercest corpses.”

Wei Wuxian even his breath. He doesn’t put Chenqing away. “My cultivation is not the Lan sect’s business,” he says shortly. “I thought I made that abundantly clear to Hanguang-jun during the war.” But apparently the rest of his sect is just as stubborn about the evils of demonic cultivation.

“Without the war, there is no need for demonic cultivation,” Lan Mingxia insists. “Other than to lead through fear.”

“My cultivation is none of your concern,” Wei Wuxian repeats steadily, but the edges of his sanity are fraying every additional second he spends here. He’s tight-lipped and red-eyed when he sneers; “Thank you for the check-up, Doctor Lan.”

Wei Wuxian finally lowers Chenqing and strides to the edge of the room. He vaults over the railing with his left hand and disappears over the side, lightly running across the first-floor roof until he reaches the edge of that and jumps down onto the path. Wei Wuxian runs off through the Cloud Recesses, and no one stops him to tell him that running is forbidden. No one dares.

And no one stops and asks him what he’s running from.

Wei Wuxian’s daily explorations of the mountain to find a new secluded practice spot lead him all over Gusu, but it’s the day after he leaves Lan Mingxia and her “check-up” behind that he finds the bunny field.

A strong wind chills the hot summer air slightly, sending ripples through Wei Wuxian’s robes and through the tall grass. When the grass parts, Wei Wuxian can see the small, furry forms of dozens upon dozens of rabbits. The wind is possibly the only reason why Wei wuxian notices the bunny rabbits that day. They’re so silent and small that without the wind parting the grass he might have walked right through the field without ever seeing them. 

But the wind blows at the exact moment that Wei Wuxian looks to the right, so when the grass sways to the side, he catches a glimpse of a brown bunny butt before the grass sways back and it disappears. Wei Wuxian stops in his tracks and studies the valley with more intensity, and everywhere he looks, there’s another rabbit nibbling at the grass, hopping along the underbrush.  

Once, Wei Wuxian’s first instinct would’ve been to catch a rabbit so that he could finally have some decent meat around here, but the Burial Mounds has beaten that out of him. It’s his second thought instead, and after realizing just how many rabbits there are, he dismisses that entirely. No, why bother treating a field of blissful, ignorant rabbits as easy target practice when they serve a much higher purpose?

Wei Wuxian carefully approaches a large white rabbit, trying not to scare it away. But for some reason, these rabbits don’t seem as scared of humans as they should be. Only a few bother to scatter when they notice him coming, and the large white one allows him to get close enough to sniff his hand. It twitches its little pink bunny nose briefly before turning and hopping away.

“Wait, no, come back Mr. Bunny!” Wei Wuxian cries. He pats himself in hopes of finding food stored away somewhere, but comes up empty. The white rabbit disappears into the grass again. 

A small black rabbit darts past, shooting across Wei Wuxian’s field of vision and stopping in a low-standing clump of mountain grasses. It starts nibbling away, and Wei Wuxian approaches slowly. Its large black ears perk up, and Wei Wuxian thinks it’s about to run away when instead it bounds right up to him.

“Why hello there, little bunny,” Wei Wuxian says softly, reaching out a hand that the rabbit seems entirely uninterested in sniffing. It darts away, but in a second comes thudding back at top speed and hiding in a bush near Wei Wuxian. 

Wei Wuxian sits down right there, stares intently at the little black rabbit, and starts a conversation. “Your friend was mean to me, Ms. Rabbit,” Wei Wuxian complains. “You should tell Mr. Bunny to be nicer to me, or he’s not going to get any of the food I’m bringing next time.”

Possibly Wei Wuxian should consider how lonely he must be to sit down and have a conversation with rabbits, but that seems like so much work.

“I wonder what brought you guys here?” Wei Wuxian muses out loud, pressing his palms together and resting his chin on his fingertips. “Or maybe whom? Maybe some Lan disappointed that they couldn’t keep pets.”

He tries not to remember barging into Lan Zhan’s room with two rabbits similar to Mr. Bunny and Ms. Rabbit. He pretends he’s not imagining Lan Zhan secretly keeping those rabbits and taking them to this random field in Gusu to raise a small rabbit army. What he remembers is how Lan Zhan chased him out of his rooms, so there’s no way he kept the rabbits. Why had he even brought them to Lan Zhan in the first place? I didn’t know what to do with them, he muses. And perhaps some part of him thought it would be cute, some part of him wanted to give Lan Zhan a gift even if he knew Lan Zhan wouldn’t be accepting after Wei Wuxian just rudely bulldozed his way into Lan Zhan’s room.

Ah, back in the days when Wei Wuxian was old enough to know better, but young enough to not care.

“What a mess we’ve made of our lives, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says wistfully, then corrects himself. “What a mess I’ve made of my life. Lan Zhan’s doing fine, as always. Perhaps in a different life…”

Wei Wuxian almost doesn’t allow himself to finish the thought, even in the quiet privacy of the windswept field of Gusu, but then the little black rabbit rustles through the grass and emerges at Wei Wuxian’s side. He smiles down at the furry head. If a bunny can be brave enough to approach him, then he can be brave enough to say it out loud.

“We could’ve been something more,” Wei Wuxian tells the rabbit, somewhere between pensive and melancholy. “If I wasn’t me, if I wasn’t the way I am, if only…”

Regrets; they grow like weeds in the murky swamps of his memories. Every thoughtless sentence, every action he ever made without considering the consequences. Every small weed that grew; how soon they grow to choke him. Now Lan Zhan’s the revered Hanguang-jun, and Wei Wuxian is the feared, uncontrollable grandmaster of demonic cultivation. 

Wei Wuxian sighs melodramatically. “What am I whining about, I never stood a chance.” 

If he can just get their friendship back, he’ll be content. The Lans might never forgive him for inventing demonic cultivation, but surely he and Lan Zhan can still be friends. And it’s a real possibility now, with Wei Wuxian’s burgeoning second golden core and the three months in Qinghe that successfully calmed a lot of tempers. He’ll make a respected Head Disciple Jiang out of himself yet; a teacher and a temporary sect heir for his brother, for their elder sister, for their sect. That’s his goal, and if that’s someone that Lan Zhan wouldn’t be ashamed to be friends with, then all the better.

Wei Wuxian flops back, slowly, and the little black rabbit sniffs him. His lips twitch, but he refuses to laugh even when the bunny’s nose presses against his side gently. He’s not ticklish. He’s not. 

“Someone’s gotta protect you guys from all the predators out here,” Wei Wuxian informs the bunny seriously. “One day you might look around and see a hawk making off with Mr. Bunny!” 

Ms. Rabbit doesn’t seem fazed by his logic, but Wei Wuxian’s very convincing. 

“I guess I’ll have to protect you myself then,” Wei Wuxian declares. “You hear me? From now on, Wei Wuxian is coming to fend off those nasty predators.” He springs to his feet, unsheathes Suibian, and executes a perfect wide, sweeping arc. “This is the perfect practice spot,” he announces. “It’s mine for the rest of this visit!”

Lan Xichen finds his little brother trudging back into the Cloud Recesses one morning. He’s aware that it’s trudging only to his eyes, but nevertheless, Lan Wangji is despondently trudging his way back to their home, and Lan Xichen wants to know why.

Even though he feels like he already knows why.

For the past few years, nothing has caused his brother greater pain than watching Wei Wuxian sink into deeper and deeper use of demonic cultivation, and callously reject all of Lan Wangji’s attempts to help. Lan Xichen hardly ever interacted with Wei Wuxian while they were both at the Cloud Recesses, so he admits freely that his perception of Wei Wuxian is distorted through a Lan Wangji-shaped lens. And just a few months ago, it was a rather negative perception. Lan Xichen generally tries to be understanding, but in the case of his little brother he’s quite aware how biased he is.

But then he got the letter from Nie Mingjue and had to reconsider. Nie Mingjue is both straightforward and extremely private, which means that everything he said about Wei Wuxian he meant, he only withheld the reasons why he came to those conclusions. And truly, Lan Xichen has no idea what dramatic event could have possibly happened during the three months Wei Wuxian spent in Qinghe to place him so firmly in his sworn brother’s good graces. 

Regardless of his preconceived notions of Wei Wuxian, Lan Xichen trusts Nie Mingjue’s opinion. So he decided to assign Wei Wuxian to mealtimes with the junior disciples, thinking that if Wei Wuxian is to get along with anyone in his sect, it would be the kids. Instead, Wei Wuxian snubs the Lans by missing every single breakfast in the first week, only showing up for lunch and dinner and disappearing for the rest of the day. 

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen says on this particular day, as he welcomes Lan Wangji back to the Cloud Recesses. “What’s wrong?”

He knows his brother’s been going out every morning to find Wei Wuxian, but so far has been unsuccessful. Given Lan Wangji’s familiar dejected posture, Lan Xichen suspects that he found Wei Wuxian, and their encounter ended poorly.

“I found Wei Ying,” Wangji says simply, which confirms Lan Xichen’s prediction. Reluctantly, he elaborates: “He did not wish to practice with me.”

The phrasing of Lan Wangji’s sentence throws Lan Xichen off his usual pattern of getting upset at Wei Wuxian on his brother’s behalf. 

“With you, specifically?” Lan Xichen asks.

The look of dejection briefly fades away. “Wei Ying was practicing with his sword,” Lan Wangji confirms.

“Ah,” Lan Xichen says, understanding the pleased expression on Lan Wangji’s face. 

So Wei Wuxian has not given up spiritual cultivation entirely. That’s good news, though he doesn’t understand why Wei Wuxian insists on turning Lan Wangji down on every little thing. Well, he knows Lan Wangji used to do the same to Wei Wuxian, but surely that’s not a justification to do the same now. 

“Perhaps his spiritual cultivation must recover from the use of so much resentful energy,” Lan Xichen says. 

It’s a wild shot in the dark; he knows next to nothing about demonic cultivation. It also doesn’t seem very likely to him; Wei Wuxian refusing his brother’s company because he’s embarrassed about the state of his cultivation? When has Wei Wuxian ever been embarrassed by anything?

It’s not the behavior of a man Nie Mingjue would trust as Nie Huaisang’s sworn brother. So Lan Xichen still hopes that Wei Wuxian will take these three months as an opportunity to move past whatever’s turning him away from Lan Wangji. It’s not enough for the romance that Lan Wangji so clearly wants to blossom, but so long as Lan Wangji stops looking like a kicked rabbit whenever Wei Wuxian is around, Lan Xichen will be content. He doesn’t even let himself worry about the opinion of the rest of his sect, because there are some impossibilites that even Wei Wuxian cannot overcome. 

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Chapter Text

The sun is still high in the sky when Wei Wuxian returns from his new bunny field. It’s time for his daily late breakfast, otherwise known as a Lan lunch. Usually this means he’s been practicing for hours under a simmering summer sun, but today he’s spent hours playing with rabbits instead, so it’s with a bounce in his step that he walks along the path to the building where the junior disciples meet for meals. 

He’s running over the Orchid Room when he sees Lan Zhan. Wei Wuxian has long ago figured that running in the Cloud Recesses doesn’t include the roofs, and if any Lan has a problem with that then they’ll have to look up at him and ask him to come down, and he’s yet to meet a Lan shameless enough to do so. 

Wei Wuxian pauses mid step on the roof, peering down at the passive figure of Lan Zhan below. Lan Zhan’s not facing him, so all Wei Wuxian can see of his profile is his sleek black hair and the tips of his ears. Lan Zhan’s posture is perfect, as always, as he sits in front of his guqin and practices diligently. At least, Wei Wuxian thinks he’s practicing his musical cultivation. The piece he’s playing sounds vaguely familiar.

He should probably stop staring at Lan Zhan like some sort of stalker, but he’s busy wondering where he’s heard that piece before. It’s not Clarity or Cleansing or Rest; Wei Wuxian would recognize those. Wei Wuxian knows he should leave Lan Zhan alone, but something about seeing him sit there so peacefully awakens Wei Wuxian’s old urge to go bother him until he pays attention to Wei Wuxian. He should know better by now, but just because Wei Wuxian knows better doesn’t mean he’ll do better.

Wei Wuxian is twenty-two and young enough to know better, but old enough to not care. 

The memory floats through Wei Wuxian’s head, finally. The two of them, injured and alone in a cave with the dead carcass of the Xuanwu of Slaughter. Years of trying to get Lan Zhan to be nice to him, and all it took was a near-death encounter. He really thought they could be closer than friends, then, though he hadn’t thought of it in those terms at the time. But there he was, half-dead and delirious, and there was Lan Zhan, playing a song for him on a makeshift guqin, and Wei Wuxian asked what’s it called and Lan Zhan looked at him with an expression softer than the rabbits in quiet field of Gusu and said–

Wei Wuxian doesn’t remember.

“We really were something,” Wei Wuxian murmurs to himself. “It’s all fallen apart since then, but…we really were something.”

All this reminiscing strikes Wei Wuxian with the sudden urge to pretend everything is fine. He slides off the roof and searches among the plants growing along the outside of the Orchid Room. Once he’s acquired an armful of his prize, he scampers back up the roof and lays himself belly-down on the slanted wood. He carefully scoots himself forward, shifting his hips until his arms are over the side of the roof and he has a good view of Lan Zhan and his guqin, and then he releases his prize.

Large, soft pink petals drift down one by one, followed by small white blossoms. Silently they settle into Lan Zhan’s hair, until Wei Wuxian could swear he’s looking at the top view of a painting of a noble lady. The Gusu rose, they would say. At the thought Wei Wuxian is forced to press a fist to his mouth to stifle his snort. His chest heaves helplessly with silent giggles, and meanwhile Lan Zhan keeps playing, unaware of his new hair decorations.

Wei Wuxian is so going to paint this later. He’ll call it The Rose of Gusu  and give it to Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan’ll probably tear it up, but it’ll still be funny.

His prank is finally ruined when one of the pink petals drifts slightly off-course and lands on the strings of his guqin. Lan Zhan stops playing and looks up. Of course Wei Wuxian has already pulled back, but the movement dislodges some of the petals in Lan Zhan’s hair, and they come fluttering down. Lan Zhan stands in one fluid motion, sending even more petals to the ground, his ears burning red. 

“Wei Ying!”

Wei Wuxian can’t help the bright peal of laughter that bursts out of him then, and seconds later he’s holding his stomach to contain his laughter. It feels like eons since he laughed this hard, though he knows in reality the last time was his last day in Qinghe. Nie Mingjue and Wen Qing both threatened Nie Huaisang with a knife at the same time, then stared at each other in horror, and Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian both started laughing.

When Wei Wuxian looks up, Lan Zhan is standing in the path, staring up at him. “Lan Zhan, you have a petal in your hair,” he says, mouth moving on autopilot. “I’m pretty sure you Lans aren’t allowed to have more than one hair ornament at a time.”

Lan Zhan reaches back without looking and pulls the pink petal out of his hair. “Wei Ying,” he says again, advancing, preparing to jump onto the roof himself. 

“But Lan Zhan, you looked so cute with the flowers!” Wei Wuxian cries.

He skitters back across the roof. If everything was truly fine he’d be down to have another rooftop fight with Lan Zhan. He’s never been as exhilarated as he was the first time they met and fought and he realized that he’d finally met his match, his equal. But he’s not Lan Zhan’s equal anymore, even if he’s working towards it, so he jumps and skips to the next roof. 

Now Lan Zhan is alone on the roof of the Orchid Room, flowerless but flushed pink to the tips of his ears, and Wei Wuxian is running, laughing all the way to lunch.

It’s lunch again, and Wei Wuxian decides that if he’s going to be put with the kids, then he might as well bully them into doing what he wants. 

Meals have been silent so far, because the little disciples all silently sit in rows, sometimes nervously glancing at him, and Wei Wuxian has no one to bother while he dumps hot chili oil on his food. Sometimes the Lan disciple nearest to him sneezes when the ground spices are too much. But they all finish quickly and rush out of the building, speedwalking past him with barely enough time for a polite acknowledgement. 

Today Wei Wuxian rests his chin in one hand, idly watching the first of the Lan disciples set down their chopsticks, and decides that it’s time for a little fun. He’s long since finished his allotted amount of food. The Lans probably have a rule against wasting food, but there’s a fat pile of vegetables left on Wei Wuxian’s plate and no one’s yelled at him about it.

“Hey,” Wei Wuxian says, when the first Lan disciple pauses to acknowledge him on the way out. “What’s your name?”

The poor kid freezes, and Wei Wuxian almost feels bad. “This one is Li Qiang, courtesy Huizhong, Head Disciple Jiang,” he says, bobbing his head nervously.

“Li Huizhong,” Wei Wuxian muses. “Tell me, what are you disciples doing after lunch?”

Wei Wuxian asks because he knows from his experience as a guest disciple that the disciples have a one hour break for lunch before their afternoon studies, and the disciples before him have spent about twenty minutes eating lunch in their haste to get away. 

Li Huizhong’s eyes dart to the side, where the line of Lan disciples has been held up, waiting for Wei Wuxian to release this kid from conversation. None of them make a sound. “W-well we have a bit of leisure time. Temporarily.”

“Great!” Wei Wuxian says brightly. “So you have time to come with me.”

“We have afternoon classes,” Li Huizhong says hurriedly. 

“Oh, you won’t miss them,” Wei Wuxian says, waving away his concern. “C’mon, I promise, it won’t take long. I just want to show you guys something. It’ll be fun!”

Li Huizhong and his fellow disciples look unconvinced. 

“Don’t you have to respect and listen to your elders or whatever?” Wei Wuxian asks. Li Huizhong nods reluctantly. “That’s me!” Wei Wuxian says proudly. “So you have to listen to me. And I say we go on a field trip!”

The disciples all look amongst each other, and then at one who appears to be the eldest among them. Her forehead ribbon’s blue embroidery marks her as a member of the Lan clan, but not of the inner family. She nods slowly, and Wei Wuxian springs to his feet. 

“Alright then! Don’t you Lans have a walking formation? Go on, chop chop, we haven’t got all day!”

The little Lans all shuffle into two lines, behind the eldest and Li Huizhong. 

“What’s your name?” Wei Wuxian asks the girl.

She bows politely. “This one is Lan Jiaying.”

“Lan Jiaying,” Wei Wuxian repeats. “We’re going to have fun today, Lan Jiaying.” He whirls around. “Onwards!”

Wei Wuxian leads the way out of the hall, twirling Chenqing like he’s keeping a beat. The thirty-some disciples follow behind him, and once again Wei Wuxian is struck by the difference between these kids and same-age Jiang disciples. In Lotus Pier, the kids would surround Wei Wuxian in a gaggle, talking just as loudly as him, and shouting twice as loudly as he leads them through target practice or a kite-shooting competition. These kids are quiet and nervous, nearly walking in unison.

The paths of the Cloud Recesses are deserted at noon. Everyone else in the Cloud Recesses is eating  lunch inside somewhere; some in halls, and some in their own houses. Wei Wuxian’s thoughts, as always, drift to Lan Zhan. Is he eating with his brother and uncle, or is he eating by himself? Is he still upset over the prank Wei Wuxian played on him half an hour ago? 

“Have you ever gone to the back hills?” Wei Wuxian asks the disciples as they walk. 

Most of them shake their heads, so Wei Wuxian starts rambling about his explorations of the back hills of Gusu–admitting any details about why, or what he’s doing there, of course. He’s not used to people paying attention to him when he rambles, but all of the kids are avidly attentive to his every word. Wei Wuxian supposes it’s because they’re not used to not paying attention to adults, but it still makes him talk faster and faster until he manages to explain the entire theory behind communication arrays by the time they arrive at the back hills.

The field is just as it was this morning: windswept, overgrown, and home to dozens upon dozens of bunny rabbits. Wei Wuxian narrows his eyes for a second, surveying the present rabbits. 

“Okay, wait here,” Wei Wuxian says, and takes three steps away from the disciples. 

He pulls a few leaves of fresh cabbage from his sleeves and whistles sharply, trying to attract the rabbits’ attention. Soon enough, Ms. Rabbit comes bounding up to him, fearlessly sniffing his feet. Wei Wuxian crouches down and offers one lettuce leaf with his left hand. The little black bunny begins to nibble, and Wei Wuxian’s right hand shoots out and wraps around her middle. 

“Ta-da!” Wei Wuxian whirls around and presents his prize to the baffled Lan juniors. Ms. Rabbit wriggles frantically in his grip, and Wei Wuxian pets her somewhat effectively. “There’s bunnies!”

Thirty pairs of large eyes blink at him.

“But pets are forbidden,” a girl in the back blurts. 

“Ah ah ah,” Wei Wuxian corrects, shaking a finger at her. “But these rabbits aren’t pets. They’re the wild rabbits of this field! No one’s claiming them as a pet.” Wei Wuxian spreads his hands in a universal sign for I don’t know. The bunny squeaks in protest at this treatment. “I don’t know how they got here. Here,” he holds Ms. Rabbit to his chest and approaches the closest Lan; Lan Jiaying. “Try holding her. Isn’t she so soft?”

Lan Jiaying tentatively takes the bunny, who calms in her arms. “She is really soft…” the girl says, petting the rabbit gently. 

Wei Wuxian beams. “Isn’t she?”

“Can I hold her?” The little girl in the back asks shyly.

Lan Jiaying nearly glares at the girl, and Wei Wuxian suppresses a laugh. “Okay, everyone gather around,” he instructs. “If we split up these cabbage leaves we should have enough for everyone.”

The kids cluster around Wei Wuxian as he fishes all of the vegetables he brought with him out of his sleeves and starts tearing them to pieces. Within minutes, all thirty of them have scattered across the field, crouching down in various patches of grass and coaxing various bunnies out of hiding. 

“I know you said they’re not pets, but–does she have a name?” Lan Jiaying asks timidly. She’s the only one who remains close to Wei Wuxian, still petting Ms. Rabbit.

“Of course,” Wei Wuxian says. “I named that one Ms. Rabbit. The large white one is Mr. Bunny, the brown one is Jin Guangshan’s Bad Hair Day, and those are Baobao, Porky, Leaf, Rage Machine, Lady Fluffykins, and Zhanzhan.”

He may or may not have named the last one after Lan Zhan, but there’s no reason for Lan Jiaying to know that.

Lan Jiaying makes a face. “Those are terrible names,” she declares, then her eyes widen in horror. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–”

“Hey,” Wei Wuxian interrupts, doing his best melodramatically offended act, “don’t be mean! I tried my best. Jiang Cheng also says I’m bad at naming, but I think Suibian has a lot more personality than Sandu, don’t you think?”

Lan Jiaying’s mouth works silently, trying to wrap her head around Sandu Shengshou making fun of Wei Wuxian for being bad at naming things, and then she shakes her head wonderingly. “I can’t believe we were afraid of you,” she says helplessly.

Wei Wuxian gasps in mock horror. “Afraid? Of me? You Lans! So rude!” He shakes his head disappointedly, until a sudden thought occurs to him. “Wait. Wanna see something else cool?” He doesn’t wait for Lan Jiaying to answer before whipping talisman paper out of his sleeve. “Watch this!” 

Wei Wuxian quickly sketches a character on the paper and infuses it with a little spiritual energy. The black ink peels itself off the page, and a little ink bunny springs out of Wei Wuxian's palm and throws itself at Lan Jiaying’s face.

She blinks, taken aback as it dissolves against her cheek, then smiles slowly. Perhaps a little mischievously. “Can you do that again?” 

“Of course,” Wei Wuxian says, already sketching. He side-eyes her. “Any target in mind?”

Lan Jiaying turns sly eyes on the girl from earlier who’d asked to hold Ms. Rabbit. Said girl is trying to get Rage Machine to eat her cabbage leaf with little success when an ink bunny comes flying at her. She shrieks and falls over, and Rage Machine bounds away. Lan Jiaying giggles into Ms. Rabbit’s ears. 

The girl scrambles up, seeking the source and narrowing in on Wei Wuxian and Lan Jiaying. “How did you do that?” She demands.

“It’s just a simple talisman,” Wei Wuxian says, already sketching another. 

“Can you teach me?” The disciple asks.

Wei Wuxian grins. “Of course.”

Within minutes, the entire field is full of thirty Lan juniors shrieking in laughter and attacking each other with ink bunnies while real bunnies run around looking for cabbage. Somehow, they’ve divided themselves into teams. Li Huizhong pelts one boy with ink bunny after ink bunny while his teammates scramble to mount a coordinated offense. Lan Jiaying and the other girl, Wang Xiuying, appear to be dueling fiercely. Wei Wuxian, pleased with the fruit of his efforts, completely loses track of time, so he does a complete double take when he sees a tall Lan dressed in white approaching their field.

Wei Wuxian has exactly two seconds to come up with a plan. 

After looking around wildly, Wei Wuxian scoops up the closest rabbit, which happens to be Zhanzhan, into his arms. “They’ve come for the bunnies!” He shouts. “Everyone take a rabbit and run!”

For a second, the little Lans all freeze, and Wei Wuxian thinks it won’t work. But then they all, almost in unison, do exactly that, dropping their talismans and cabbage leaves to the ground. They take off running in all directions, disappearing like white streaks into the green grasses, still laughing loudly. There’s Lan Jiaying, giggling like a madwoman with Ms. Rabbit cuddled in her arms; there’s Li Huizhong, with Leafy clutched protectively to his chest; and there’s Wang Xiuying, running at a full sprint with a bunny rabbit tucked under each arm. 

Wei Wuxian runs too, barrelling off in the direction of the Cloud Recesses with Zhanzhan held firmly in his arms. I have to hide somewhere, he thinks, chest heaving. All thoughts of propriety and being a good example have fled his mind, much like the Lan juniors fleeing the field like bunny rabbits. 

He can’t go back to his guest cottage, that’s the first place they’ll look. He can’t go to any of the communal spaces, there’ll be people there. Where in the Cloud Recesses is a private area that no one will expect Wei Wuxian to go to?

Without thinking, his feet turn him in the direction of the Jingshi.

This is a bad idea, his brain tells him. 

Wei Wuxian bursts into Lan Zhan’s rooms minutes later, nudging the door ajar with a foot and then shouldering it open. He makes sure the doors are closed before he sets Zhanzhan down on the floor. The little white rabbit takes two hops away from Wei Wuxian and then settles serenely onto this new spot of floorboard like he was always meant to be there.

“Close call, eh, Zhanzhan?” Wei Wuxian says, still flushed and grinning. He sinks to the ground, back against the wall. “Who would’ve thought, the little Lans know how to have fun after all.” He shakes his head. “I still can’t imagine little Lan Zhan doing that, though. Imagine! Little Lan Zhan. He must’ve been so cute.”

Zhanzhan only looks at him. He really is like Lan Zhan.

Wei Wuxian sighs. “Maybe it is a good thing that Zewu-jun put me with the juniors. I wouldn’t have gotten along with anyone else. Maybe that’s what he intended all along. Who knows,” he says, sighing again. 

His gaze falls upon a loose floorboard in the middle of Lan Zhan’s room. “What’s this?” He nudges the edge of the floorboard with the toe of his boot, and to his surprise, it lifts up. “Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian says delightedly. “Is this a secret compartment? In Hanguang-jun’s rooms? Maybe I really have corrupted him!”

Wei Wuxian kneels over the side and pulls the floorboard up. He peers inside, and his gaze first falls upon a drawing that he’s shocked to recognize. “Lan Zhan kept my drawing?” He muses. “Who would’ve thought?” It’s the only drawing in the box, and Wei Wuxian doesn’t recognize anything else in it. “I bet Hanguang-jun has plenty of admirers drawing pretty pictures of him, though. I wonder why he kept mine? Maybe he’ll keep The Rose of Gusu! ”

Zhanzhan the bunny circles around the room slowly, sniffing the floor. Wei Wuxian looks to him for support and gets none. 

“You’re right, Zhanzhan,” Wei Wuxian declares. “There’s no way he’ll keep it. Not when he has so many others to choose from.”

Wei Wuxian carefully puts the drawing back and then slides the floorboard back into place. “I’ll leave Lan Zhan’s secret stash to himself,” he tells the bunny cheerfully. “Lan Zhan deserves some privacy.” He says this knowing full well that he just snuck into Lan Zhan’s rooms, even though doing so is definitely against at least five rules. “Where do you think–”

Footsteps on the path outside.

Wei Wuxian springs to his feet. Somehow he forgot in all his haste that even if no one expected him to come here, Lan Zhan still goes back to his own rooms on occasion. He grabs Zhanzhan and brings the startled bunny up to the window. 

“Run, Zhanzhan,” Wei Wuxian urges in a whisper. “Be free!” 

Zhanzhan lands on the bed of flowers outside the Jingshi with a soft whump, and then bounds away without looking back.

The door opens.

Wei Wuxian whirls away from the window, a grin on his face as he prepares to tease Lan Zhan as much as he can before he gets kicked out. But it’s not Lan Zhan who’s standing shocked in the doorframe. 

“Wei Wuxian,” Lan Qiren says furiously, “you might be a guest, but a guest of Gusu is still subject to the disciplines of Gusu!”

Wei Wuxian expected as much.

When it’s all over, Wei Wuxian picks himself off the stones of the Discipline Pavilion with gritted teeth. His fledgling golden core is not equipped to handle punishments of this level, and he’s afraid that it shows. Last time, he used the punishment as an excuse to whine and carry on until he got Jiang Cheng to carry him everywhere. Now Wei Wuxian has no one to cling to, no one to comfort him, and most importantly  the beating has left him unsteady on his feet. So he straightens his back, hides his grimace, and turns to leave like he has not a care in the world.

“Wei Wuxian,” Lan Xichen says, and Wei Wuxian halts with difficulty. “You may of course use the Cold Springs to aid in your recovery.”

If he uses the Cold Springs, there’s a low but nonzero chance that someone will see the surgical scars left from the core removal and the surgery Wen Qing performed in Qinghe to transfuse massive amounts of spiritual energy into Wei Wuxian. 

“And the doctors are available if you just ask,” Lan Xichen persists.

The Lan doctors. Lan Xichen has assured him since the first medical check-up that they will not do anything Wei Wuxian doesn’t want. Every medical check-up since has been fifteen minutes of them giving Wei Wuxian judgy side-eyes while they extoll on the harmful effects of resentful energy on the body and how to best recover from it. But Wei Wuxian knows that what seems blindingly obvious to them–such as checking up on the patient’s golden core–won’t merit a warning, because it simply will not occur to them to seek approval. And Wei Wuxian can’t explain why he doesn’t want them to. 

“This one thanks Zewu-jun for the opportunity,” Wei Wuxian says dully.

“Wei Ying,” says Lan Zhan. 

Wei Wuxian ignores him. If he didn’t know better, he’d say Lan Zhan sounds guilty. He stood there the whole time and watched. “I’ll be going now, if Zewu-jun doesn’t mind.”

Neither Lan brother protests after that, and of course none of the Lan elders do either. Wei Wuxian sails out of there like he’s walking on glass, something akin to a smirk fixed on his face until he’s finally alone, behind the walls of his guest cottage. There, he collapses face-first onto the bed, shudders deeply, and thinks of how to hide himself for the next week.

“This isn’t working,” Lan Xichen says. 

The two brothers kneel on opposite sides of the low table, a pot of steaming tea between them. Lan Wangji dips his head in acknowledgement. He serves both of them a cup of osthmanthus tea, and they both pause to take a sip.

The intention behind accepting Sect Leader Jiang’s diplomatic arrangement was to foster closer relations between the Lans and the Jiangs, specifically with regards to the Jiangs’ wild Head Disciple. In the time that Wei Wuxian has been here, however, the only progress has been backwards progress. First Wei Wuxian studiously avoided interacting with anyone, then the medical assistance that Lan Xichen had prepared somehow went awry, and the attempts Lan Xichen had made to encourage interaction between his junior disciples and Wei Wuxian went better and worse than planned. On the one hand, Wei Wuxian staged a tiny rebellion featuring Lan Wangji’s rabbits. On the other hand, the elders are now challenging Lan Xichen’s decision to put Wei Wuxian with the junior disciples. Not that it even matters, because no one has even seen Wei Wuxian since he walked out of the discipline pavilion. He hasn’t shown up to meals at all. Lan Xichen has no idea how he is getting food, and he’s only partly sure that he still sleeps in his guest cottage.

In other words, the visit is going poorly.

This isn’t even accounting for the second, more personal intention behind Lan Xichen’s agreement. That reason sets down his cup of tea and droops pathetically (though Lan Xichen would never say so). He presents Lan Xichen with a drawing. It’s of Lan Wangji, seated in the Orchid Room with flower petals in his hair. On the right are the characters forming the title The Rose of Gusu. 

“He gave me a drawing,” Wangji says. He droops even further. “He took the juniors to see the rabbits. Then he ran when he saw that I was coming.”

“He disrupted the junior class by making them arrive late for their afternoon class,” Lan Xichen says tiredly. “He was caught trespassing. By Uncle, no less.”

“I did not mind,” Wangji interjects.

“Yes, your objection was noted, Wangji,” Lan Xichen says, sighing. “You know the rules. Though I believe he acted with no malice or ill intention. It strikes me as a prank he might pull.”

Wangji looks down morosely at the drawing on the table in front of him. “It is likely a joke,” he says, utterly dejected. 

Lan Xichen can’t possibly stay mad at his little brother when he’s that sad, but: “This isn’t working,” he reiterates. 

It’s rather obvious that whatever the Lans are doing is not working. He asked Mingjue for advice, since clearly that visit went much better, and that’s even with the diplomatic incident of the Dafan Wens. Lan Xichen really doesn’t understand why. The Lans and the Nies are wildly different, but Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue managed to be friends for the majority of their childhoods, and are now sworn brothers. The only issue that’s ever come between them is Jin Guangyao.

“Are you sure you saw him practicing with his sword?” Lan Xichen asks.

Lan Wangji frowns faintly. “I see no other explanation.”

The osthmanthus tea is downed like a shot glass. He’s at the end of his rope. Lan Xichen sighs. “Mingjue suggests a night hunt.”

Lan Wangji makes a miniscule shrugging motion, as if to say, I am also out of ideas. “Who will supervise?”

All of the Lan elders are immediately out. Lan Xichen may not know who can get through to Wei Wuxian, but he knows who won’t. “Not you,” he says apologetically. “I’m sorry, but whatever you’re doing isn’t working.”

His brother thought that the three months in Gusu, with the peace and the calming scenery, could do what he didn’t manage during the Sunshot Campaign, where Wei Wuxian ran from battlefield to battlefield in extravagant attempts to avoid arguing with Lan Wangji. But it’s been almost two months, and Lan Wangji has most certainly not gotten through to Wei Wuxian.

Lan Xichen just wishes he could understand Wei Wuxian. But the man makes no sense to him, and neither does his brother’s infatuation with him. Lan Xichen sometimes doesn’t think that Lan Wangji understands Wei Wuxian, which is a bit of a problem, considering he ideally wants to marry him.

“Neither has whatever I’ve been doing,” Lan Xichen admits. He closes his eyes painfully. “Then perhaps–Uncle?”

Although their uncle is glacial by the rest of polite society’s standards, Lan Qiren is by far the most warm and welcoming of the Lan elders. Most importantly, they trust him. At least, they can recognize his biases. 

“Mn,” Wangji agrees. 

A dozen junior disciples, Wei Wuxian, and Lan Qiren. This is bound to go well.

Wei Wuxian has to admit that out of everything he thought the Lans might first say to him when he finally stopped hiding, inviting him on a night hunt was not one of them. He suspects it’s another attempt on behalf of the Lans to judge him for not using his sword, but he’s desperate to get out of the Cloud Recesses, so he accepts. Even when he learns that Lan Qiren will be supervising. 

So far, Wei Wuxian has avoided interacting with his former teacher, save for the twenty minutes Lan Qiren spent yelling at him last week after he found him hiding out in his nephew’s room. He’s not eager to spend more time in his company. Lan Qiren might no longer be Acting Sect Leader, but he’s still a respected elder, a venerated teacher, and an inner clan member. Wei Wuxian doesn’t think that going toe to toe with him will endear him to the Lans. 

But Wei Wuxian doesn’t even care at this point. He’s more or less lost hope that he’ll redeem himself in the eyes of the Lans, so he might as well have some fun before he leaves for Lanling.

The Tingshan He sect has been victim to an unexplained string of murders recently. The Lans must have thought that sending a group of Lans along with their guest Jiang would be a good diplomatic move. Wei Wuxian thinks that the He sect won’t think so after the diplomatic incident he inevitably causes. But it might get him kicked out and sent back to Lotus Pier, in which case Wei Wuxian will get to say he tried and be free of the Cloud Recesses, which is a win-win in his book. 

Night falls on the complex of the main He estate, and Wei Wuxian patrols the halls. Lan Qiren sent the juniors off to do their standard procedure, so Wei Wuxian is surprised when he runs into three little Lans. He’s not clear on whether Lan Qiren is supervising or leading the night hunt, but he’s content to let the man do what he wants, and what he wants to do is apparently keep the juniors away from him.

“What are you three doing here?” Wei Wuxian asks. “Shouldn’t you be making your rounds?”

“We finished our rounds, Head Disciple Jiang,” Li Huizhong says respectfully.

“We wanted to see you fight,” Wang Xiuying says at the same time.

Wei Wuxian laughs at that, the sound echoing around the courtyard. He and the juniors stand on the boardwalk ringing the courtyard, underneath the roof. Each column has a talisman slapped on it. Apparently the juniors have finished their rounds. 

“And what would Master Lan say to that, hm?” Wei Wuxian says. “Don’t you remember last week?” With Wei Wuxian’s weak cultivation, he’s recovered from the beating, but only just.

Li Huizhong’s cheeks flush, but he perseveres. “With respect to Master Lan, Head Disciple Jiang did not show us anything dangerous. It is an unfortunate accident that we were late for class.”

The Lan juniors are too cute. Wei Wuxian wants to pinch his cheeks until they turn even redder. “Okay, okay,” he says, still laughing. “You want to see the fearsome grandmaster of demonic cultivation fight.” He shakes a finger at them. “But you have to remember to be safe!” An idea pops into his head. “Hey–want to see an invention of mine?”

“Yes!” Wang Xiuying says immediately. 

“Alright,” Wei Wuxian says, not cackling (he’s corrupted the little Lans!) and instead getting down to business. He pulls out a blank piece of talisman paper. “Look at this–I’ve been fiddling around with this design for months. It should summon evil spirits, but I’ve never had a chance to test it out before now.” He pauses to concentrate for a moment, and uses a little bit of qi to direct it to the edge of the overhang. “There we go. What do you think?”

“That’s so clever,” Wang Xiuying says enthusiastically. “That would be so useful on night hunts! Are you going to patent it for the Jiangs, Teacher Wei?”

Teacher Wei?! “Ah–well, if it’s useful for everyone, shouldn’t I share it with all the sects?” Wei Wuxian deflects, skillfully ignoring Teacher Wei. 

Wang Xiuying tilts her head. “But you could make money off of it. Doesn’t Yunmeng need funds to help recover?”

Wei Wuxian tries not to wince when he realizes that a junior Lan disciple has a better head for politics and finance than he does. In his defense, Wei Wuxian’s focus was on helping people, not making money. 

“Xiuying!” Lan Jiaying scolds, whacking her friend with a sleeve. “Cultivators aren’t looking to make money.”

“I was just asking,” Wang Xiuying protests, innocently. “What are they called, Teacher Wei?” A little too innocently.

“I, uh, don’t have a name for them yet,” Wei Wuxian says. “Attracting Evil? Luring Evil?” He shrugs.

“Spirit-Lures?” Lan Jiaying suggests.

Li Huizhong nods in agreement. “That’s a good name.”

Wang Xiuying also nods, enthusiastically. “I agree,” she says. 

“The expert has spoken,” Wei Wuxian says cheerfully, while making more Spirit-Lures. He opts to walk around the courtyard in order to put the lures in place rather than using spiritual energy, in an effort to conserve it should he need it, and the three Lan disciples trail behind him like lost ducklings. 

Wei Wuxian finishes his circuit and turns the corner to see Lan Qiren standing at the other end, a cluster of juniors standing in two straight lines behind him.

“Wei Wuxian,” Lan Qiren begins, and his beard is already twitching in anger, which Wei Wuxian is sure Lan Qiren is just dying for someone to point out. “The juniors should be doing their rounds. Why have you distracted them?”

 Wei Wuxian refrains from rolling his eyes. Of course it’s “why have you distracted them” and not “why are they here.” Lan Qiren hasn’t met a problem he couldn’t blame on proximity to Wei Wuxian. “They finished their rounds, Master Lan,” he says instead. 

Lan Qiren’s beard twitches again. “If they have time to chat, they have time to do their rounds again. All three will be copying Disciplines and Virtues when we return.”

“I’ll copy it for them,” Wei Wuxian intervenes, not keen to see the kids punished because of him. “I’m the one who distracted them, right?”

Copying rules sounds like a great excuse to spend time with Lan Zhan without fear of his core being discovered. Otherwise he couldn’t be forced to on pain of death.

Lan Qiren doesn’t look any happier. “That’s not how discipline works in the Lan sect,” he splutters furiously. “You cannot–”

In eerie unison, all the talismans glow blood red.

Lan Qiren cuts himself off mid-sentence. Everyone turns to look. Black shadows obscure the moonlight illuminating the private courtyard. The lanterns begin to sway back and forth, their light flickering. The rotting stench of corpses drift down into the courtyard, obscuring the bland scent of wet grass. An obscure figure drops down to the ground. The outline of a sword flashes through the darkness. 

The culprit, it appears, is not a vengeful spirit or a corpse of some kind, but a serial murderer. 

“Identify yourself!” Lan Qiren orders, drawing his sword.

The person cackles madly and drops a corpse to the ground. In the dim light of the lanterns, Wei Wuxian can just make out the colors of the He sect on the corpse. “Oh my,” he says, in an eerily cheerful voice. “Oh my. More cultivators? What fun!” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” Wei Wuxian asks when the man steps into the lantern light. 

Xue Yang grins. “Maybe. But the Jins were oh-so desperate to figure out demonic cultivation, who was I to refuse them?” 

“You lie,” Lan Qiren declares, nostrils flaring.

Xue Yang cocks his head. “Lie? What reason have I to lie? Does the truth about your peers shock the venerated cultivator? Demonic cultivation’s just a tool, you know. That I happen to use.” He bends down and slaps a talisman on the corpse of the He cultivator at his feet, and it jerks slowly to its feet. “Only you cultivators are so afraid of what you don’t understand.”

“Yeah,” Wei Wuxian says darkly, taking Chenqing from his belt. “Or it uses you.”

Xue Yang holds his corpse back, and cocks his head again. “Who are you?” He releases his corpse, and it growls and lunges at the juniors.

The juniors have all drawn their swords at this point, but Wei Wuxian still rushes to get in front of them. He plays two notes on his flute sharply, and the corpse hesitates, long enough for the juniors to surround it. Confident that the juniors can take care of it, Wei Wuxian turns back to Xue Yang, who has started fighting Lan Qiren. 

Xue Yang’s gaze flickers to Wei Wuxian. Lan Qiren is far more of a scholar than a warrior. He didn’t fight in the war, and he doesn’t seem to be faring very well right now, against Xue Yang. “You’re him,” the young man says, awed. “You’re Wei Wuxian. The grandmaster of demonic cultivation.” He drives Lan Qiren across the courtyard with renewed vigor. “If I kill this cultivator, will you train me?”

Wei Wuxian dislikes many things about that sentence, but the grim look on Lan Qiren’s face hurts the most. The whole situation makes him sick to his stomach. He’s known intellectually for a while that people have been trying to copy and imitate him, but seeing the consequences first-hand is really something else. 

He strides into the courtyard, and gathers the hazy cloud of resentful energy around him. “What makes you think I’m looking to take a student?”

“You need a legacy,” Xue Yang insists. “I’ll be your most dedicated student.”

“You mean you kill for fun, and call that dedication,” Wei Wuxian snarls, waiting for the right moment to attack. “You mean you let the voices tell you what to do. You mean you’ll learn because you want to, not because you had to.”  

Xue Yang pushes Lan Qiren up onto the boardwalk, and Wei Wuxian chases after them. He motions for the juniors to stay back, and raises his flute again. “If you think for one fucking second–”

Lan Qiren loses his footing, Xue Yang presses his advantage fast as a viper, and Wei Wuxian lunges forward. One sword glare later and Wei Wuxian and Xue Yang are face to face. Wei Wuxian shoved himself in front of Lan Qiren, pushing the elder back and barely bringing up Chenqing in time to block the deadly strike of Xue Yang’s sword. 

“Why are you protecting him?” Xue Yang demands, spitting in Wei Wuxian’s face. “He’s not like us. You and I, we know how to do what it takes. I heard him just now. What he said about you. Why won’t you just let me kill him ?”

Wei Wuxian smiles grimly, and shoves Xue Yang through the screen doors. Without looking, he throws a locking talisman behind him, while Xue Yang recovers his footing. It’s just Wei Wuxian and Xue Yang, trapped in an empty room (save for two porcelain vases) together, with two swords, the ghost flute, and a cloud of resentful energy. Then it’s a battle of wills over the resentful energy, a war of skill and strength and sheer determination. They’re the two street boys meant for something more, Wei Wuxian and Xue Chengmei. But between the two of them, one fought tooth and nail for every ounce of his power in the Burial Mounds. Paid for it in blood and sanity, rotted with the corpses for it, clung to life so many times he breathed in death like air and forged his own path back every time. 

When Lan Qiren finally breaks the sealing talisman, Wei Wuxian stands in the center of the room with two shattered porcelain vases, the dark bamboo of Chenqing wet with blood. Xue Yang is dead at his feet, a snarl forever fixed onto his young face. 

“Wei…Wuxian,” Lan Qiren manages. The older man is breathing heavily, on the verge of a minor qi deviation. The juniors line up behind him in an indiscriminate cluster, ready to leap in to help Wei Wuxian. “You are…” Lan Qiren continues, laboriously. “Just like your mother.” His eyes roll up, and he collapses.

Wei Wuxian merely looks at him, and makes the split-second decision to let him fall.

Dawn rises over the mountains of Gusu, and so does Wei Wuxian. Somehow a few pleading looks from two Lan juniors did what a year of study could not. Wei Wuxian is finally rolling out of bed at 5:20 am everyday, just in time to make it to breakfast with the juniors. He maintains that the only reason he does so is because he always manages to get the juniors to talk, and there’s nothing more satisfying to him than corrupting little Lans into breaking rules.

Still, Wei Wuxian does not appreciate squinting his eyes against the orange sunrise, sneezing in the frigid morning air, and passing all the other Lans on their way to breakfast. His only consolation is that his sleep schedule is infinitely flexible. If needed, he can instantly snap back into an 11 am to 3 am cycle, which he very much doubts the Lans would be able to do. At least, the Lans who didn’t fight in the war.

Wei Wuxian jogs lightly along the path, for once not heading to the juniors’ hall. This morning, he’s on a mission to find Lan Zhan, wherever he eats breakfast. He has a request to make, and he’s pretty sure that Lan Zhan would be more amenable in his own domain: five o’clock, the ugliest time of day. 

“Wei Wuxian!”

Upon hearing his name, Wei Wuxian winces and looks around to see if it’s too late to run. Apparently it is, given that Lan Qiren is within visible distance of him. Sighing, Wei Wuxian stops jogging and waits for Lan Qiren to approach him.

Investigating the Nie saber hall made more sense than the outcome of the Tingshan He night hunt. On the one hand, he’s successfully converted a full class of Lan juniors into his eager minions. On the other hand, Lan Qiren seems to hate him even more now. And Wei Wuxian doesn’t even know why, because it’s not like any of the juniors told their Teacher Lan that Wei Wuxian carried him back bridal-style, just to mess with his dignity a little. 

Then there’s the casual accusations that Xue Yang made. If the Jins really are condoning people like Xue Yang just to learn demonic cultivation, then Wei Wuxian has to make them stop. On a broader note, the night hunt served as a wake-up call to the long-term effects of Wei Wuxian’s invention of demonic cultivation, and as the inventor he considers it his responsibility to deal with. He’s shelved this for the Lanling Jin visit and after, because he’s currently concentrating on his golden core. 

Lan Qiren marches up to Wei Wuxian and glares at him for three seconds flat. 

“Yes?” Wei Wuxian asks tiredly. He could quote some rule about brevity at him, say something quippy, but 5 am is the only wrong time for smart remarks. 

“No running in the Cloud Recesses,” Lan Qiren snaps finally, and then stalks off.

Wei Wuxian waits for him to leave, and then continues running. He supposes he should be glad that Lan Qiren has firmly fallen into the category of “you are an annoying pest, and therefore I will yell at 5 am” rather than “you are dangerous and destructive, and therefore I will ban your existence.” That was exactly what Wei Wuxian was hoping for at the start of this visit. But it’s still extremely frustrating. 

It’s almost breakfast by the time Wei Wuxian finds Lan Zhan. He catches him unaware on the path outside the Jingshi. 

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian nearly shouts, jumping in front of him. Lan Zhan blinks slowly, watching Wei Wuxian catch his breath from all the running. “I’m not shouting,” he adds, an afterthought. 

Lan Zhan is still staring at him, faintly puzzled, austere and pristine as always. Wei Wuxian tamps down on the urge to tell him his forehead ribbon is crooked, just to see the brief look of panic in his eyes, because he does learn from his past mistakes, and also he’s here on a mission.

“Come to Caiyi with me?” Wei Wuxian blurts. “Later today, whenever you’re free. When are you free? Are you free? I assumed–uh. Anyway. I wanted to make it up to you for breaking into your rooms that one time,” he finishes in a rush. That’s the excuse he prepared, at least, in case Lan Zhan asked.

Lan Zhan’s eyes widen slightly. Inanely, the image of Lan Zhan’s mind as a small frightened rabbit, screaming in panic, pops into Wei Wuxian’s head. He’s probably spent too much time with the bunnies. But Zhanzhan really reminds him of Lan Zhan it’s not his fault–

“There is no need,” Lan Zhan says. 

“But c’mon it’ll be fun,” Wei Wuxian wheedles. “Just the two of us, hanging out in Caiyi for an afternoon…”

“You have already been punished for trespassing,” Lan Zhan says flatly.

Wei Wuxian falters for a second. Somehow he’d almost forgotten about that. Its only effect was to make Wei Wuxian sore for a week, his guilt or lack thereof was not affected. The only thing that really got to him was Lan Zhan standing there, on the side, watching, and that’s really just Wei Wuxian’s problem. What was Wei Wuxian expecting, for Lan Zhan to step in and intervene? Why would he even do that? The very idea is ludicrous. Lan Zhan defying his elders, being anything other than the perfect Lan? Pfft! As if Lan Zhan would ever! For Wei Wuxian, no less! Truly, Wei Wuxian’s brain is stupid some times. 

“Well…then…come because it’ll be fun!” Wei Wuxian tries, smiling winningly. “I’ll pay for everything! And if you get in trouble with your uncle just tell him I dragged you into it. He’ll believe it.” 

“He would not,” Lan Zhan says.

He believed I was distracting the juniors from their rounds just by being there, Wei Wuxian thinks, but doesn’t say. “He’d want to,” he replies. He should’ve realized that insulting his uncle’s honor is a great way to start a fight with Lan Zhan. 

Lan Zhan’s mouth thins briefly, like he wants to argue but knows better than to try. “After lunch,” he says instead.

Wei Wuxian blinks. Is Lan Zhan…agreeing? “So, noon? At the gates?”

Lan Zhan nods firmly, and Wei Wuxian tries not to whoop with glee. He’s got a date! He can feel a stupidly large smile break out on his face. “Mark your words!” Wei Wuxian crows. “I’ll see ya there!”

Wei Wuxian takes off running again, nearly dancing, retracing his path to his guest cottage. Then he runs to the junior hall, before they get so anxious about his absence that someone starts crying. If he’d looked behind, he would’ve seen Lan Zhan still standing in the path, smiling foolishly at his back.

But he doesn’t.

Noon beats down on the paths of the Cloud Recesses and Lan Wangji, who is patiently waiting right in the center of the massive entrance gate when Wei Ying arrives. Lan Wangji is a little nervous when he sees Wei Ying skipping down the path. He’s mostly sure that Wei Ying accosted him this morning to ask him out on a date, though he’s sure that Wei Ying is thinking of it as a casual outing between friends, and not what Lan Wangji wants it to be.

Wei Ying skids to a stop in front of Lan Wangji, and Lan Wangji’s traitorous heart thumps like a little rabbit at Wei Ying’s smile. He knows Wei Ying has not had a happy time here, but he doesn’t know how to make it better. Wei Ying has been studiously avoiding him, which hurts, he’ll admit, but he’s nearly certain that it’s because of the problems he’s having with his cultivation. He can tell that Wei Ying’s cultivation has suffered because of his use of resentful energy, and Wei Ying is too prideful to admit that resentful energy did have ill effects on him. And Wei Ying has always kept his hurts private. After the trespassing incident, no one saw Wei Ying for a week, which is how Lan Wangji knows that he was hurt. But he refused the Cold Springs, and the doctors, and Lan Wangji’s company as well, so once again he didn’t know how to make it better.

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says. “What are you waiting for? Having second thoughts?”

Never. Lan Wangji follows Wei Ying down the broad path, leaving the arches and the waterfalls of the Cloud Recesses behind. He pauses when he see Wei Ying take out Suibian and mount it easily.

“Well?” Wei Ying says impatiently, looking back at Lan Wangji. “Aren’t we going to fly?”

Lan Wangji isn’t sure if this is a subtle cry for help, or if Wei Ying genuinely hasn’t realized that Lan Wangji knows he’s been struggling with his cultivation. Nevertheless, he mounts Bichen, and the two of them speed down to Caiyi. It’s a short trip to town, but Lan Wangji notices Wei Ying struggling to maintain his usual speed, his usual fluid grace degenerating into sporadic bursts of speed and short freefalls that make Lan Wangji panic every time until Wei Ying recovers his balance and pretends he meant to do that. 

It’s a stressful trip. Lan Wangji is glad to reach the bottom of the mountain, where he and Wei Ying dismount and sheathe their swords so they can walk into Caiyi. Heavy gray clouds roll across the summer sky, dropping the noon temperature to tolerable. The scent of dew lingers in the air, mixing with the smells of the market.

“What do you want to do first?” Wei Ying says. He stands by Lan Wangji’s side, but somehow even standing still, he exudes more energy than Lan Wangji. “We could go boating, have you ever gone boating before? Too bad it’s not Lotus Pier, I have so many cool things to show you there. Or we could get something to eat? Did you just finish lunch? You’ve never tried a spicy pork bun, have you? Oh right right, you’re vegetarian. Well you could always try, we’re not in the Cloud Recesses anymore. But if you don’t want to we can do something else! Ooh, what’s this? What about this?”

As Wei Ying talks a mile a minute, the two of them walk down the street. Wei Ying points out nearly everything they pass, and Lan Wangji mostly pays attention, and also just soaks in the presence of Wei Ying like a dying plant put in the sun. When he finally pauses to draw breath, he’s pointing at a vendor selling drinks. Fruit drinks, by the smell of it. 

Wei Ying approaches the stall, and Lan Wangji follows. He peers over the rims of the wooden cups. 

“Ah,” the vendor says, spotting rich customers. “A delicacy for the honored cultivators?”

“Sure, why not,” Wei Ying says, reaching for his money pouch.

Lan Wangji beats him to it, slapping several coins down on the top of the vendor’s cart. 

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying protests, trying to shove Lan Wangji’s coins back into his hand. “I said I’d pay for everything! Let me pay, Jiang Cheng loaded me up and I haven’t spent it on anything else. Well, maybe a couple of drinks, but it’s not my fault you Lans banned alcohol! I can pay. Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan.”

“You are the guest,” Lan Wangji says firmly, ignoring Wei Ying’s protests. “I will pay.”

Wei Ying frowns at him. “And make me look like a liar? Lan Zhan, don’t be ridiculous, I’m a head disciple, I’m not broke.”

Lan Wangji hands his coins to the confused vendor and swiftly plucks two cups from the cart. “I will pay,” he insists. He’s pretty sure that this is a precursor to “I would buy the moon and stars for you if you asked, Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying sighs dramatically. “Why are you so stubborn,” he complains, but he takes the drink. “You’re impossible, you know that. You never budge on anything.”

Lan Wangji tries his drink. It’s warm and tastes like sweet mango. He thinks his brother would like it; his brother has a secret sweet tooth. But it sours at Wei Ying’s words, and Lan Wangji stops drinking.

“But I like that about you,” Wei Ying says hastily. 

He must’ve seen something on Lan Wangji’s face, because he pats his arm and smiles at him. Lan Wangji knows that people say his face is impassible, but how can it be, when Wei Ying reads him so easily? Lan Wangji wonders if now is the moment where he reaches for Wei Ying’s hand. 

“You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t impossibly stubborn,” Wei Ying continues–dare Lan Wangji think it–fondly? “Even if it gets annoying at times.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says, “your–”

“No,” Wei Ying interrupts smoothly, his fond smile going tight. “Just–don’t. Let’s just not talk about cultivation today. Please.”

Lan Wangji tries his mango drink again. It’s still not sweet as it was a minute ago. He does know that he’s incredibly stubborn. In fact, all his earliest memories of Wei Ying are of him getting inexplicably furious with the ease at which Wei Ying disregarded the Lan sect rules. The rules were there for a reason. And Lan Wangji couldn’t comprehend how someone could be good and not fit into the disciplines he’d grown up with.

He knows better now, but he doesn’t know how to explain those long months of confusion and frantic denial, or the depth of his current feelings for Wei Ying.

“Mn,” says Lan Wangji. 

Wei Ying takes a deep breath, and then his bright smile is back in place. He finishes off his drink and skips to the next stall. “Lan Zhan, look! These bunnies look like you!”

And Lan Wangji follows, ignoring the ceaseless thump-thumping of his soft heart. 

Wei Ying and Lan Wangji find their money pouches considerably lighter by the time the afternoon sinks into Caiyi. A deep orange light settles behind the gathering storm clouds, setting both men aglow as they step off their boats onto the docks of Caiyi. 

“We should probably head back before it rains,” Wei Ying says, popping another loquat into his mouth. He wipes the juice away with the sleeve of his black robe. “But we have time to do this another day, before I leave. Right? Lan Zhan? Or we can visit another place right now. If you don’t want to do this again?”

Lan Wangji ties his boat to the dock. When he finishes, he turns to see something akin to insecurity in Wei Ying’s smile. 

“We’re still friends, right?” Wei Ying asks quietly. “Tell me I haven’t messed up that terribly.”

Lan Wangji’s words catch in his throat. His emotions threaten to overwhelm him, until he ends up saying Wei Ying, my love, you are the world to me, but he doesn’t want to scare Wei Ying away. Nor does he want to say we are still friends, because that feels like a denial of everything Lan Wangji longs for, and he is not ashamed of nor does he wish to deny his feelings. Just as I’m worried about you feels so hopelessly inadequate to express why he’s so concerned with Wei Ying’s demonic cultivation. He knows Wei Ying has it under control, but he can see the bitter, paranoid edge it brings out in Wei Ying, and it worries him. 

Where Lan Wangji’s words fail him, he has always had one recourse. 

“Come.” Lan Wangji manages one word before he sweeps away, off the docks and through the streets of Caiyi.

Wei Ying follows.

The flight up the mountain to the Cloud Recesses is silent and swift. Thunder rumbles in the distance, but no rain falls. Heavy gray clouds sweep across the landscapes of Gusu, mist shrouding every arch and hiding the blue clouds on every banner. Lan Wangji flies with a sense of nervous urgency he’s never felt before, as if he might lose his nerve if he doesn’t move fast enough. Wei Ying flies beside him, concentrating on Suibian with such narrow focus that his usual chatter dies away.

Lan Wangji leads Wei Ying to the Orchid Room, deeming it to be private enough at this time of day for his purposes. It’s towards the back of the Cloud Recesses, a fifth the size of their library and solely for the purpose of practicing music. Rows of purple orchids line the front of the building, while pink peonies and small white snowdrop flowers line the back. He settles on one side of the table in the center of the room, bringing out his guqin and placing it down gently. 

Wei Ying sprawls on the other side. He rests his elbows on the table and his chin on his palms, slouching just enough so that he’s shorter than Lan Wangji. “Was it the Gusu Rose thing?” He asks, worriedly. “Are you still mad about that? I–”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji interrupts, nearly begging. “Please listen.”

Wei Ying shuts up, and Lan Wangji begins to play.

The soft, slow notes of Wangxian drift out of the Orchid Room, and Lan Wangji relaxes inch by inch. The tension drains out of his frame as he pours every ounce of his soul into this piece of music, infusing not spiritual energy but every emotion he can name and those he cannot regarding his feelings for Wei Ying. His fingers move elegantly and precisely across the strings without hesitation. 

Unlike the music cultivation pieces, which he has practiced until he could play them in his sleep, he wrote this. He knows it better than he knows the Lan sect rules, knows it in the fields of Gusu and the waters of Yunmeng, knows it in a cold Qishan cave and in a room so pristine it’s devoid of life, save for a lonely boy and his hot mess of a heart. He could recognize it through the screams in a Wen supervisory office and the resentful ghosts of the Burial Mounds, drowning in wine high on a rooftop or in an abandoned shack of a backwards little town. 

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying breathes, before he’s halfway through the piece. “I know this. You played it for me, in the cave. And I heard you playing it in this room.”

Lan Wangji doesn’t dare stop playing or answer Wei Ying. This is his answer. 

Wei Ying brings out Chenqing, and he joins in for a minute. There’s no resentful energy, no demons or ghosts or war, only the melodic, beautiful notes that Wei Ying coaxes out of his dizi. Somehow between all the horror and trauma, Lan Wangji forgot what Wei Ying’s music sounded like when he actually played. This, he thinks, is what people mean when they talk about Lan Wangji’s music, or when they talk about the heavenly courts. This is what he imagines he’ll hear; Wei Ying and his dizi, playing Lan Wangji’s love song.

Wei Ying pauses his playing to speak. “Did you write it?”

Lan Wangji manages a small nod.

Wei Ying smiles, warm like a sunrise. “It’s beautiful.” 

He raises Chenqing again, and this time when he joins in he plays a melody, trailing and leaping above Lan Wangji’s low notes, intertwining with his high notes, fusing together a melody so smoothly it sounds like Lan Wangji is complementing him, and not the other way around. The Lans frown upon improv; Lan Wangji is the first Lan in a long time to write a piece of music. But this is Wei Ying in his most authentic form, pouring all his brilliance and his kindness into these notes. This is Wei Ying at his most genuine, when the piece gently draws to a close and Wei Ying lowers his flute to smile with Lan Wangji.

“You never told me what it’s called,” Wei Ying says, voice hushed as if to respect the majesty of what was just created in this room.

Lan Wangji rests his hands on the strings of his guqin, silencing them. His heart quickens like a baby rabbit, so hopeful, too romantic for his own good. This is the moment. This is what Lan Wangji has poured his heart out for, so that he can look Wei Ying in the eyes and say Wangxian, confirming what Wei Ying must, at some level, already know.

He opens his mouth, heart resting in his dry throat. Wei Ying’s sparkling silver eyes draw him in until he can look nowhere else. “W–”

“Wei Wuxian!”

Both Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian flinch at the sound, shocked out of their soft personal bubble. Lan Wangji looks away from Wei Ying’s eyes to see his uncle marching into the Orchid Room, and his heart sinks from his throat to his shoes.

His uncle means well. Perhaps that’s the biggest issue, that Lan Qiren was forced to confront his biases during the Tingshan He night hunt. His uncle is a lot like Lan Wangji was a few years ago, unable to comprehend how someone could be righteous but laugh disrespectfully, good but rise at lunchtime. Both of them built the 3,000 rules of Gusu into an impenetrable armor they could hide behind, look to for answers and guidance. From his uncle’s mutterings, Lan Wangji suspects that Cangse Sanren was the first crack in his uncle’s armor, and the night hunt with Wei Ying the last. 

Lan Wangji would not dare presume to speak for his uncle, but he worries that no one will, since his uncle is not doing a very good job. His uncle avoids confrontation much like his brother does, so he avoids those he holds only disdain for. Now that Wei Ying has thrown his beliefs into a loop, he seeks out Wei Ying all the time, and without fail, reprimands him for whatever small rule he’s breaking. Lan Wangji is aware that he’s a hypocrite for wishing his uncle could just move past it, but nevertheless he wishes so every time he sees Wei Ying and his uncle interact.

Wei Ying hastily shoves Chenqing back into his belt and turns around just so that he can lean his elbows on the table and look up at Lan Qiren. It’s quite the disrespectful slouch, Lan Wangji almost has to admire it. But mostly he’s just tired, because he can tell from the effort that Wei Ying put into his disrespect that he thinks Uncle has nothing but contempt for him. And even if he were to speak for his uncle, how could he convince Wei Ying, when Lan Qiren’s own words say something else?

Lan Qiren looks down at Wei Ying in silence for five terribly long seconds, face slowly going red. “Correct your posture,” he snaps finally, and stalks right back out of the Orchid Room.

The silence that reigns in the moments that follow is deafening.

Wei Ying sighs. “And here I thought I was supposed to be fostering sect connections.” He says the words lightly, but he doesn’t look back at Lan Wangji. Not when he says the words, and not when he stands up, brushing imaginary dust off his lap. “I guess I should go now. I’m sure you have things to do.”

Lan Wangji watches him go, so much caught in his throat he thinks he might choke. Outside the Orchid Room, a large purple petal in the flowerbed lining the walls bends under the weight of a raindrop. Wei Ying steps over the circular entrance to the Orchid Room, and the heavens break open as if by command, torrents of rainwater thundering from the heavy clouds above. Raindrops pelt the dirt paths and mists mingle in the cold afternoon air, filling the Cloud Recesses with so much fog that Lan Wangji quickly loses sight of Wei Ying.

He doesn’t know if it’s the right moment for a rainstorm. But he does know that this dismal, miserable summer day is the wrong moment for a confession. It’s the wrong time for any attempt on his part to express the depths of his feelings. It’s the wrong time for love.

The last medical checkup takes place on a drafty summer morning. 

Wei Wuxian settles onto the floorboards, watching disinterestedly as Lan Mingxia finishes the array around him. She’s been pausing and starting again every time another strong breeze blows in through the wooden columns, threatening to send droplets of black ink flying from the tip of her brush. Absently, Wei Wuxian runs a thumb over one of Chenqing’s holes. He uses his other hand to prop his chin up, and gazes absently at the waterfall pounding down a rocky cliff not thirty meters from the healers’ building.

“Done,” Lan Mingxia announces. She stands up and gets out of the array before she activates it. 

Once again, a massive cloud of resentful energy rises from Wei Wuxian’s body, hissing as it comes into contact with the array, which flares bright red light into the already well-lit room. This time, Wei Wuxian doesn’t even bother to move at all, merely swiveling his chin slightly so he can stare at Lan Xichen.

Lan Xichen stares at him, or rather, at the hazy black smog all around him, his lips tugging downwards in displeasure. Wei Wuxian blinks slowly, just once. The oppressive feeling of the resentful energy begins to settle heavily into the clean Gusu air.

Finally, Lan Xichen raises a hand. “Enough.”

Lan Mingxia deactivates the array, and all the resentful energy goes rushing back into Wei Wuxian, who tightens his lips in favor of hiding a wince. It’s not exactly a pleasant feeling. 

The truth is that he is planning on dispersing the resentful energy currently living in his body eventually. He knows it’s bad for his temperament. Wen Qing has yelled at him enough about it, and somehow she can tell when he’s lying even over letters. He’s been keeping her up to date on his core progress and she insists that he can do away with the resentful energy within a few months. 

But once, the resentful energy was his only protection. Once, it was his only recourse; once, it was the only weapon with which he won a war. He won’t be giving up demonic cultivation, but without the immediate access to a resentful energy source his power will be limited by situation and preparation. So he won’t be dispersing it until he can protect himself with spiritual cultivation, and currently he’s been cultivating a core for all of fifty days. 

“You’re still hosting a dangerous amount of resentful energy,” Lan Mingxia says flatly.

“Yep,” Wei Wuxian responds, popping the “P” obnoxiously. He stretches his arms above his head, then behind his back. All the while, Lan Mingxia and Lan Xichen continue to stare down at him disapprovingly. 

“Our library has resources should you wish to improve your cultivation privately,” Lan Xichen offers hopefully. “It is unheard of to let them leave the library, but in this case we are willing to make an exception.”

That sounds like something Wei Wuxian actually wants, very much so, except that it would mean making Lan Xichen think that he’s right.

“No thank you, Zewu-jun,” Wei Wuxian says politely. “My cultivation is just fine.”

Lan Mingxia raises a singular skeptical eyebrow at him. She doesn’t bother calling him out, because after three months it seems she’s finally gotten tired of all his lying. 

Lan Xichen, however, has one last attempt to make. “Disciple Wang Xiuying tells me that you’ve been practicing your cultivation alone,” he says.

Wei Wuxian’s heart freezes in his chest. He had told Wang Xiuying that, one day when he took the junior disciples out to the bunny field, and she asked why she only ever saw him perform minor tricks with his qi, when he was supposed to be as powerful a cultivator as their Hanguang-jun. And Wei Wuxian had never expected any sort of malice from her, couldn’t even picture it, and so he said–

“I practice with the rabbits when you aren’t here. I wouldn’t want to make any of you cry with my scary cultivation!”

“I won’t cry! I’m very brave, Jiaying said so!”

  “Hm, well if Lan Jiaying says so. But everyone else would, so it’s a secret, okay? Don’t tell anyone, not even Lan Jiaying.”

“Mhm! I won’t. I promise.”

And then.

“I am glad that at least you are practicing,” Lan Xichen continues, oblivious to Wei Wuxian’s inner turmoil. “But I don’t understand your insistence on keeping resentful energy.”

Of course Wang Xiuying would never lie to her sect leader. Her promise to Wei Wuxian doesn’t rank higher than that. It’s Wei Wuxian’s fault, really, for telling a child and expecting the secret kept. It’s his fault for thinking that the children and all their crying “Teacher Wei!” meant something that it doesn’t.

Wei Wuxian springs to his feet. He can’t even think of a smart remark for Lan Xichen, because he has no idea what the man just said. It occurs to him belatedly that Lan Xichen treats him similarly to how Nie Mingjue treats Nie Huaisang, though the sect leaders obviously have different styles. He treats him like a little brother, and Wei Wuxian doesn’t know why. He’s here for diplomatic reasons, although developing sect relations sometimes means family them, it doesn’t in this case.

“Unfortunate,” Wei Wuxian says vaguely. “If that’s all, I’ll be going now?” He bows, vaguer still, at Lan Xichen, and then disappears from the healers’ building, down the paths, and soon out of the Cloud Recesses itself.

The sun sets early on Wei Wuxian’s departure from the Cloud Recesses. Lan Xichen is there to see him off from the gates. Overall, he thinks the visit has gone rather well. His uncle’s opinion changed dramatically after the night hunt, and now he and Lan Wangji are of the belief that Wei Wuxian’s demonic cultivation is fine so long as he can control it. 

Lan Wangji has also made major progress regarding his relationship with Wei Wuxian. He hasn’t told Lan Xichen the details, but he knows that Wangji has gone down to Caiyi with Wei Wuxian at least ten times since the night hunt. He’s not sure if/when his brother plans on proposing, but he’ll wait until after Wei Wuxian’s stay in the Jin sect, at the very least. He wouldn’t want to separate his brother from his beloved immediately after getting betrothed.

His plan with the juniors worked even better than he could have imagined. Lan Xichen is not exactly aware of what went down behind the scenes, but he knows that now Wei Wuxian has a gaggle of little Lan children calling him Teacher Wei when they really shouldn’t be and mimicking his every move. The children were the ones he asked about Wei Wuxian’s cultivation, after explaining that they were worried about Wei Wuxian’s cultivation, and one of the female disciples stepped forward nervously.

The good news is that if Wei Wuxian does marry into the Lan sect, then the juniors will be able to call Wei Wuxian “Teacher Wei” all they like. Lan Xichen has been writing to Jin Guangyao, who mentioned that his father is interested in recruiting Wei Wuxian for the Jin sect, but Lan Xichen is confident enough in his understanding of Wei Wuxian to say that that’s the last sect he would consider joining.

The sect elders still demand the weekly checkups, which caused quite a bit of tension that Lan Xichen could really live without. And if he’s a bit misleading as to what happens during them, then only Lan Mingxia would tell. 

All in all, it is with a hopeful heart that Lan Xichen sees Wei Wuxian leave the Cloud Recesses.

Wei Wuxian leaves the Cloud Recesses with a heavy heart. He’s been fudging the truth and omitting many details from his letters home, and to the Wens and Nie Huaisang. But in the privacy of his own mind, he can admit how terrible this visit has been. 

Perhaps the worst part is that this is exactly what he’d hoped out of the visit. The Lans are most certainly not afraid of him, or he would’ve been treated better. It’s for that reason alone that he’s not offended on behalf of the Jiangs, because their disdain is better than their fear. One is irrational and the other is just biased; the lesser of two evils. 

But what Wei Wuxian misjudged is how the unending condescension from the Lans would drive him crazy. He expected as much from the sect elders, and Lan Qiren, but from Lan Xichen, who he thinks could have been a sort-of-friend like Nie Mingjue if it weren’t for his sect’s views on demonic cultivation, it has really stung him. The juniors, too, who will not doubt turn out to be fine Lan disciples one day, turned out to be more painful than expected. 

Ah, but what did I expect, Wei Wuxian berates himself as the Cloud Recesses disappear from view for the last time. The Lans were never going to like me. It’s not as though I have a history of being well-liked.

And yet Wei Wuxian finds himself so inexplicably sad about it. How curious. 

Lan Zhan is still friends with him. Lan Zhan stopped mentioning demonic cultivation and spent hours upon hours with him in public despite his sect’s obvious hatred for Wei Wuxian. Lan Qiren seeks him out specifically to yell at him, and yet Lan Zhan, who is the most filial person Wei Wuxian knows save for Jiang Cheng, continues to associate with Wei Wuxian. Can Wei Wuxian really ask for more? Is he really that ungrateful for Lan Zhan’s friendship?

It is with a heavy heart and Madame Yu’s vicious comments of his ungratefulness ringing in his ears that Wei Wuxian thinks of Lan Zhan, and all they could have been, and makes a promise to himself not to ask for more. More than Lan Zhan is willing to give. More than the friendship they already have, which perhaps used to be closer, close enough that Wei Wuxian would’ve called Lan Zhan his soulmate without missing a beat, and now has settled into–something. It’s something. It’s enough. He may cultivate a core worthy of the immortals, he may build a reputation of teaching disciples and legendary night hunts, he may be given a title out of respect and not fear, but he will never be free of his reputation for demonic cultivation. He will never have an official family to share with Lan Zhan. He will never be someone that the honored cultivators of Gusu will look upon and judge worthy of their precious, flawless Jade. 

And it’s alright. Wei Wuxian has his own siblings, in heart if not in blood or name. He has his own sect, his own junior disciples to teach, and his own responsibilities to take care of. He has a legend of kindness to create, and a path of good deeds to leave in his wake. The greedy denizens of Lanling await his chaos, and who is Wei Wuxian to deny a little good chaos? 

It’s alright. And if it’s not alright, then it’s going to be. 

Wei Wuxian mounts his horse at the bottom of the mountains. He heads east, towards Lanling. Behind him, leaves slip off the trees and drift to the worn paths, to be crushed underfoot. It is the beginning of the fall.

Chapter Text

Sect Leader Jin does not greet Wei Wuxian on the steps of Koi Tower. Because of the whole mess that epitomized his relationship with Lan Xichen, he has no idea if this is intended as an insult or not. He chooses to be grateful that he doesn’t have to deal with Jin Guangshan just yet, and instead he gets to deal with someone far more pleasant to be around.

“Welcome to Koi Tower, Head Disciple Jiang,” Jin Guangyao says.

His polite smile reminds Wei Wuxian of Jiang Yanli rather than Lan Xichen, and he’s not sure why. He knows that both of them play the role of the mediator, though he suspects that Jin Guangyao has better success than Lan Xichen. Perhaps it is because Lan Xichen was raised to be a sect leader.

There are no servants with him. Wei Wuxian has been waiting in the entrance hall since the guards recognized him and summoned someone. It doesn’t surprise him that Jin Guangshan would treat his own son like a servant, while Jin Zixuan is pampered and spoiled and given everything. It does make him feel slightly bad for Jin Guangyao. 

“I’m honored,” Wei Wuxian says, and they bow.

The two of them walk through the towering halls of Koi Tower, and Wei Wuxian represses his comments about all the tacky gold. He’s going to have to get used to it for the next three months. 

“Your rooms are near the top of the tower,” Jin Guangyao says as they walk.

Wei Wuxian understands vaguely that this is supposed to be an honor, that the people with higher status are given rooms at the top of the tower. But he doesn’t know why Jin Guangshan would do that, and he’s recently had a traumatic experience trying to understand politics, so he thinks he’ll just ignore it. 

Not that ignorance-is-bliss was a very effective strategy last time.

“Who’s that?” Wei Wuxian asks randomly, noticing a passing Jin followed by a group of lower-ranked disciples. The Jin glares at Wei Wuxian as he passes, and Wei Wuxian doesn’t know why, considering he has no idea who this person is. 

“That is Jin Zixun, honored nephew of Sect Leader Jin,” Jin Guangyao responds smoothly. 

“Second in line for sect leader,” Jin Zixun cuts in, approaching the two. He looks Wei Wuxian up and down like he’s judging what he sees. “I would keep a distance from him if I were you, if you know what I mean.”

Really?

Wei Wuxian did not sign up for this. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” he says. 

“I am only saying, with the things people say about your parents, you don’t want to be associated with someone like A-Yao,” Jin Zixun says, digging himself into a deeper hole. He claps Jin Guangyao on the shoulder. “No need to look like that, A-Yao, I’m only giving him some advice.” Then he steps away quickly, taking his own advice. “Speaking of. Arrange a night hunt for tonight, will you? I want to see what the famed Wei Wuxian looks like in battle.”

“That won’t happen,” Wei Wuxian cuts in, when Jin Zixun starts to turn away. “I asked Lianfang-zun to give me a personal tour of Koi Tower.”

The reminder of Jin Guangyao’s title makes Jin Zixun scowl. “Then tomorrow?”

“No,” Wei Wuxian says.

“Then when?” Jin Zixun demands.

“Never,” Wei Wuxian says sunnily, and pointedly turns away from him. “Lianfang-zun, you were saying?”

He walks off, and Jin Guangyao is forced to rush to keep up with him. When he finally reaches Wei Wuxian, the half-marveled expression on his face is gone. 

“Is he always that terrible?” Wei Wuxian asks, without bothering to keep his voice down.

Jin Guangyao smiles nervously. “My cousin doesn’t mean to be rude–”

Wei Wuxian snorts. “I’m pretty sure he does,” he interrupts. “Don’t bother trying to defend your terrible family memebers, it’ll only make both of us look stupid. He shouldn’t have said that to you.”

“You needn’t have lied for me, Head Disciple Jiang,” Jin Guangyao says. “My cousin is, as you say, always like that. Truly, I was not offended.”

“Sounds like a load of bullshit,” Wei Wuxian remarks abrasively. “Look, if you get in trouble for it, just tell your father it was my idea, okay? I’m used to being the scapegoat, don’t sweat it.”

“I’m the scapegoat for everything that goes wrong in Koi Tower,” Jin Guangyao blurts. A split second later, he looks mortified.

“You too, huh?” Wei Wuxian says sympathetically. “Yeah, the Lans were glad to be rid of me. Lan Qiren–” It occurs to him at the last moment that talking about how much the Lans hated him is not likely going to help his relations with the Jin sect. “–Didn’t like me very much,” Wei Wuxian finishes awkwardly. “So for the next three months, you’ll be free of your cousin–what’s his name again? Actually don’t tell me, I don’t care.”

By the time Wei Wuxian finishes this ramble, he and Jin Guangyao are at the top of a staircase. They are on the more private levels of Koi Tower, where the inner clan members and their families live, and the servants come to clean. From here, every window has a beautiful view of the mile-long road to Koi Tower or the city spread out around the tower. Wei Wuxian has never been comfortable with this level of decadence or splendor. Part of the reason why the Jins are so fabulously wealthy is because they cut funds to their disciples, and it shows in their training. 

Wei Wuxian’s rooms are indeed at the top of Koi Tower. He balks at the doorway, eyeing the bowls and robes and plants carefully arranged across the room. There’s already tea waiting for him on the table in the first room. The Lan sect doesn’t do servants in the same way; the cottage Wei Wuxian stayed in is exactly as messy as he left it. 

“You don’t need to show me around,” Wei Wuxian adds after a second. “We can play weiqi, or paint or something. Or I’m sure you’re very busy.”

Jin Guangyao smiles again, but this time Wei Wuxian lets himself hope that it’s a little bit genuine. “I’d be honored to play against you,” he says.

Wei Wuxian’s first visitor comes knocking at his door after breakfast.

“Hey,” Wei Wuxian says, staring at the short woman dressed in gold and pink robes in front of his door. His brain fuzzily tries to recall her face and the name attached to it. “I know you. You’re…Mianmian, right?”

She rolls her eyes at him. “I’m Luo Qingyang. My friends call me Mianmian.”

“Right.” Now that she’s mentioned it, Wei Wuxian does remember her yelling at him about exactly that. And then Lan Zhan side-eyed him disapprovingly. That’s right, Mianmian was Lan Zhan’s first crush! Wei Wuxian almost forgot about that. “So I’ll call you Mianmian?”

Mianmian scowls at him. “Are we friends?”

Wei Wuxian shrugs. He very much wants to make friends seeing as the past three months were incredibly lonely, and saying “I’ll call you Mianmian” seemed much easier than saying “please be my friend.” He’s not great with those sort of words. Or feelings. “If not, then why are you here?”

Mianmian sighs. “I just wanted to stop by and say hi.”

“Oh.” Wei Wuxian finally invites her inside and tries to remember how serving guests tea works. “Does this mean I can meet your other friends?”

“No,” Mianmian says immediately, settling into her seat across from him. “That’s a terrible idea. You wouldn’t get along.”

Wei Wuxian refrains from pouting. “What? Why not?”

“Well, my girl friends wouldn’t like you,” Mianmian explains. “And you already don’t get along with Zixuan.”

Wei Wuxian frowns. “Do you mean… Jin Zixuan?”

Mianmian nods, somewhat cautiously.

“Why are you friends with the peacock?” Wei Wuxian complains. He thought better of Mianmian.

“He’s nice once you get to know him,” Mianmian says. “Nice for a given definition.”

“I can’t believe this,” Wei Wuxian says. He drinks his tea angrily, and Mianmian raises an eyebrow at him. 

They start talking about the Wen indoctrination camp instead, and then night hunts, but a seed of doubt has been planted in Wei Wuxian’s mind.

Years of accolades for the Young Master Jin, skills honed to perfection and an impressive lineage, and Mianmian’s friendship is the only character reference that makes Wei Wuxian reconsider his stance on Jin Zixuan.

He can’t get Mianmian’s words out of his head, even though Mianmian never brings up Jin Zixuan in any of their conversations for the next week. And he’s too busy, at any rate, because although he doesn’t see Jin Guangshan personally, the sect leader makes his presence very clear. First, he starts throwing riches and luxuries at Wei Wuxian like there’s no tomorrow. He doesn’t understand why until three days in he realizes that the servants who come to clean his room have been poking through his stuff. He knows that Jin Guangshan ordered them too, but he can’t prove it. Even if he threatens the servants into telling him, no one will believe the word of a servant, and he can’t just threaten Jin Guangshan, so for now Wei Wuxian has to grin and bear it.

Wei Wuxian tried to mentally prepare for the societal warfare of the Jins before coming, but he didn’t realize it would start so soon. At least Mianmian’s company is pleasant. But Wei Wuxian is forced to put talismans all over his belongings in order to stop someone from stealing or copying his notes, and he begins to sleep with one eye open, waiting for who-knows-what to happen in the middle of the night. The rest of Koi Tower is unbearable, just as he’d expected. Jin Zixuan’s terrible cousin keeps coming around to essentially demand entertainment from Wei Wuxian, who refuses night hunt invitations and dinner invitations and demands to show off his “tricks” for a hungry crowd of Jin disciples. He wonders if he should mention that he doesn’t even know his name. The Jin elders–though comparing them to the Lan elders is laughable at best–he doesn’t even bother to approach; he sees them sweeping through the golden halls, sometimes with a woman who is most definitely not their wife by their side. 

It makes Wei Wuxian miss the Jiang elders even more, on top of missing them and his wish that Jiang Cheng had some sort of guidance besides Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian. The men and women served as the advisors, instructors, the uncles and aunts and the mentors of the Jiang disciples. Although they had a healthy amount of respect for Madame Yu, they often clashed with her over her administrative opinions. 

For one, Madame Yu insisted on instructing the Jiang disciples in the manner of the Meishan Yus; drills and repetitions practiced until perfect. It didn’t blend well with Jiang-style fighting: though similarly aggressive, Jiang sword forms were fluid, ever-changing, and always in motion unlike the conservative style favored by the Yus. But Jiang Fengmian gave her complete control over the training of the disciples, and so they were taught with drills until their backs ached. 

The other decision of Madame Yu’s that the Jiang elders collectively took issue with was her punishments. Jiangs made rules just to break them; most of the rules actually enforced were moral, and mostly punished with a few hours kneeling in the Ancestral Hall, or some form of chores. Wei Wuxian was the only disciple in all of his years there who was whipped. Even the disciple who accidentally flooded a small town spent a night kneeling on stones and then months building a dam. But the Jiang elders’ attempts to call out Madame Yu for singling out Wei Wuxian were met with silence from Jiang Fengmian, who instead attempted to favor Wei Wuxian for it. In short, the Jiang elders weren’t able to help, because they, unlike Jiang Fengmian, realized that favoring Wei Wuxian would only exacerbate the problem. 

They were also the ones who argued for Wei Wuxian’s appointment as Head Disciple, over Madame Yu’s protests, telling Jiang Fengmian that Wei Wuxian was basically already doing all the duties a Head Disciple did, and he might as well have the position to recognize it. 

But then the Wens burned Lotus Pier, and with it all the elders who’d taught Jiang Yanli to cook, or corrected Wei Wuxian’s stance, or shooed an eleven-year-old Jiang Cheng away from the inner courtyards before he could hear his parents arguing again.

Between the Jin disciples, the Jin elders, and the inner clan members all curious about Lanling’s mysterious guest, Wei Wuxian is at a lack for allies in the silent war he’s having with Jin Guangshan, where the man outwardly sends him flattering gifts and the most prominent members of the Jin clan to wax poetic about how great the Jin sect is, while secretly going behind Wei Wuxian’s back with such alarming carelessness that Wei Wuxian begins to fear actual violence. He doesn’t dare ask Mianmian for help, because he wouldn’t want to pit her against her clan when she’s clearly just looking for conversation that she can’t get from Jins. 

At least he’s making progress with Jin Guangyao. Or at least Wei Wuxian hopes he is. Jin Guangyao reminds him of Jiang Yanli, a little, in the way they both try so hard to be helpful, and smile when they’re angry and when they’re sad. Wei Wuxian knows he’s a bit of a hypocrite for wishing they wouldn’t, and sure, he smiles when he’s angry and sad and everything under the sun, but something about the polite demeanor they wield is difficult for him to interpret. He’s spent years figuring out the subtlest of shades in Jiang Yanli’s smiles until he could find the emotion behind her gentle words; he’s confident he can do that with Jin Guangao as well. 

All this stressful nonviolent warfare has led Wei Wuxian to spend as much time as he can exploring, because nobody has told him not to and it’s comforting whenever he’s in a new place. But it’s Mianmian’s words from that morning that see Wei Wuxian falling out of a window into a little walled courtyard, hidden away from grand rooms of Koi Tower.

There’s grass stains on Wei Wuxian’s hands when he stands up, and he wipes them off on his robes. A path winds around the outer edge of the courtyard, between the bushes of flowers that line the walls and the grass. In the center of the courtyard is a pond, just big enough for a short swimming race, but only two feet deep. Floating around the surface of the pond in clusters and alone are about two dozen magnificent pink and white lotus flowers. The entire surface is blanketed in lotuses, crammed so closely together Wei Wuxian can barely see the water underneath, only large green leaves. 

Wei Wuxian, extremely curious about this discovery tucked away behind the wall of Koi Tower, kneels down by the side of the pond and pokes one of the lotus flowers. The soft white petal bends easily under his finger; it’s definitely a lotus plant. He’s not sure what he was expecting. But the question remains: why is there a lotus pond in Koi Tower?

Slow ripples spread across the surface as Wei Wuxian dips one hand in to move one of the lotus stalks in order to examine the water, curious to see if these lotuses actually have a chance of surviving. He leans far enough that the tip of Suibian, previously resting on the shore, slips into the water.

“What are you doing in my lotus pond?”

Wei Wuxian reels back to his feet, sending countless ripples through the pond. On the opposite side of the lotuses is the bearer of a familiar, odious face, and a familiar, grating voice. His ears try to bleed just listening to it. 

“What do you mean, your lotus pond?” Wei Wuxian shoots back immediately. “Where’s your peony garden?”

A horrible suspicion blossoms in Wei Wuxian’s mind, and it grows when Jin Zixuan’s cheeks flush bright, bright red. 

“Where is your peony garden?” Wei Wuxian repeats. He starts to stroll around the edge of the pond, closing in on Jin Zixuan who eyes Wei Wuxian like a rabbit to a fox. “What business does a Jin have with a personal lotus pond, when you Jins couldn’t love anything but yourselves if your lives depended on it?” 

Of course he doesn’t truly mean that last sentence, but he doesn’t like the way the flush crawls up Jin Zixuan’s neck at that. He’s seen Jin Zixuan upset and offended before, and it usually means Jin Zixuan turning white or sniffing and turning away. It isn’t this.

“Unless…” Wei Wuxian says slowly, circling around Jin Zixuan while the shorter man tries to back away. 

“U-unless nothing,” Jin Zixuan stutters. “I just like lotuses. It’s none of your business!”

“Unless,” Wei Wuxian repeats, steamrolling right over him, “you’re… in love with Jiang Cheng?”

Jin Zixuan’s face turns splotchy. “I’M IN LOVE WITH JIANG YANLI!” He shrieks.

Dead silence falls over the little courtyard.

“Uhhh.” Wei Wuxian’s brain reboots. “What the fuck?”

Jin Zixuan opens and closes his mouth like a fish, and then he turns on his heel and runs. 

“Oh no you don’t!” Wei Wuxian sprints after him, making grabbing motions with his hands. “Get back here!”

They circle around the pond. Jin Zixuan uses spiritual cultivation to launch himself off the grass and into the window that Wei Wuxian left open, and Wei Wuxian follows suit. He comes barreling through and slam-tackles Jin Zixuan, who’d only just regained his footing, to the floorboards. Jin Zixuan rolls over and tries to push him off, but Wei Wuxian pins him down with his forearms and his best glare. He even calls up just a little bit of resentful energy to heighten the effect, so that there’s a hazy black cloud behind his head and in his hair. 

“Explain,” Wei Wuxian demands. “You treated her like trash all your life. You made her cry, you fucking asshole. What the fuck do you mean, you’re in love with her. What makes you think there’s any part of you that deserves her? Huh?” He shakes Jin Zixuan by the shoulders. “There isn’t! You don’t!”

Jiang Yanli never cries. Wei Wuxian knows Jin Zixuan doesn’t know this, because he’s believed Jiang Yanli to be a weak-spirited girl all his life, but the day Jin Zixuan yelled at her is one of the only times Wei Wuxian has ever seen her cry. He’s watched her press lavender, violet, rose pink, gold and black sleeves over her mouth as Madame Yu finds yet another reason to berate her daughter and make her feel small, and not once did Wei Wuxian ever see her cry. 

Wei Wuxian knows he owes his eternal gratitude to Jiang Fengmian for taking him in and raising him as a ward of the Jiang family, but he’ll never forgive Jiang Fengmian and his wife for how they treated their children. For teaching Jiang Yanli from such a young age that she was worth very, very little. 

If Wei Wuxian is being completely honest, Jiang Yanli is one of the underlying reasons why he’ll never reveal what happened to his core to the world. He trusts the Nie brothers, and he trusts the Wen siblings, but the thought of the Jiang siblings looking at him with disguised pity in their eyes makes his stomach turn. And more importantly, Wei Wuxian has seen how the cultivation world treats Jiang Yanli for having such a weak core. He’ll never admit it to himself but the thought of everyone treating him the same way they treat Jiang Yanli terrifies him. And he’s currently developing another golden core, an opportunity that Jiang Yanli will never get. He’s terrified by the mere thought, while, Jiang Yanli has lived like that all her life. To say that she impresses him would be a major understatement. 

That’s the true reason Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng have always been so unfavorable to Jin Zixuan. If Jiang Yanli had been born with the capability to cultivate a powerful golden core, everything would’ve been different. Instead, with a golden core barely strong enough to let Jiang Yanli draw a spiritual sword, she was cast aside by both parents, who neglected her and her education in favor of Jiang Cheng or Wei Wuxian. And since her parents so clearly didn’t care about her, the rest of the world was free to scorn her however they wished. Vapid. Weak. The eldest daughter of Sect Leader Jiang? She’s frail, isn’t she, rather useless? And plain-looking. I heard she can’t even draw her sword. At least she’s polite. At least she’s nice.

Jiang Yanli doesn’t need more of that from her betrothed. Wei Wuxian knows from personal experience that maturity in children comes not from a personality facet but necessity. And Jiang Yanli had been stuck raising Jiang Cheng, Wei Wuxian, and herself at such a young age. Jiang Yanli doesn’t deserve yet another person to take care of. She deserves someone who will take care of her. So despite all of Jiang Yanli’s attempts to make Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng be nicer to Jin Zixuan, they never, ever did, because Jin Zixuan never tried to actually get to know her, and Jiang Yanli deserves someone who cares about her. Someone who recognizes that Jiang Yanli has always, always been the strongest Jiang. 

Jiang Yanli is the one who showed Wei Wuxian the difference between being kind and being just nice. Jiang Yanli is the one who taught Wei Wuxian the unseen, unfathomable strength in being kind.

 Ever since Jiang Yanli’s engagement was broken, a little fantasy has built up in the back of Wei Wuxian’s mind. In it, he’s Head Disciple of Lotus Pier, and Jiang Cheng is the sect leader, and Jiang Yanli has taken over the role her mother once had. She’s Lady Jiang, the madame of Lotus Pier, and she does a much better job than her mother ever did. It’s not that Wei Wuxian is conspiring to ruin her marriage prospects, or he’s so selfish as to want her to stay in Lotus Pier forever if she doesn’t want to. But the fantasy felt so close to being real, after the war, and especially after his visit to the Nie sect, when he cultivated another golden core. 

Now here’s Jin Zixuan, proclaiming to love Jiang Yanli. And Wei Wuxian knows exactly what his sister would say to that.

Which is why he’s utterly taken aback when Jin Zixuan opens his mouth, and meekly says; “I know.”

Wei Wuxian sits up. Jin Zixuan scrambles to his feet, and Wei Wuxian follows suit. “What do you mean, you know?” Wei Wuxian says, tense as a drawn bowstring, ready to snap and beat him up and damn the consequences. “You spent years saying there was no way she could ever be worthy of you, and suddenly you’ve changed your mind? Is that how it works here in the Jin sect? Your opinion on what makes a woman worthy changes every week?”

To his surprise, Jin Zixuan doesn’t turn red or white or look away. Instead, he sighs and looks at the ground. “I was a kid,” Jin Zixuan mumbles. “I didn’t know her.”

Wei Wuxian is suddenly reminded of what he was like in the Cloud Recesses, teasing and harassing Lan Zhan at every opportunity because he didn’t know how else to get his attention. Claiming every moment of Lan Zhan’s free time and then claiming he was only joking. He put so much energy into trying to work out what Lan Zhan actually thought of him, behind every ridiculous and shameless and dismissal and public denouncement in front of all the sect armies. 

And suddenly he can understand why a young Jin Zixuan, perhaps resentful over a betrothal he never asked for, and told by everyone around him that the girl in question didn’t deserve him, acted the way he did.

Is Jin Zixuan making him feel sympathy for him? 

How dare.

“You know you have a lot to make up for, right?” Wei Wuxian says finally, very, very grudgingly.

Jin Zixuan looks up, hope in his honey-colored eyes. He nods empathetically. “Yes,” he says, only a little bit warily.  

“That’s good,” Wei Wuxian says approvingly. “You can start by being nice to Jin Guangyao.”

Jin Zixuan makes a face. “Why would she care?”

Wei Wuxian takes a deep breath, and reminds himself that Jin Zixuan isn’t necessarily making that face because he considers Jin Guangyao beneath him, but because he detests the idea of talking. Detests it enough to high-tail it out of his own courtyard at the very prospect.

“What, aren’t you glad to have a sibling?” Wei Wuxian says, but when Jin Zixuan only stares at him blankly, considers that Jin Zixuan has never had family that wasn’t planning to back-stab him at the first opportunity. To be fair, he’s not convinced that Jin Guangyao isn’t thinking about it, but he’d also be the first suspect no matter how unassuming the murder. 

But it’s clear that Jin Guangyao is very attached to the idea of family, and Wei Wuxian is hopeful that an older sibling can get through to him. If he has to turn to the peacock for that older sibling, then so be it. 

Wei Wuxian sighs. “Because,” he says, “when you have family, you hold on tight, and don’t ever let go.”

Jin Guangshan ups their war by sending hookers to his rooms without telling him.

Wei Wuxian stops dead in his tracks when he opens his door to see three women in his rooms that he definitely did not invite in. Two are lounging by the table in robes that would make a Lan screech and a third pokes her head out from the bedroom when she hears the door open.

He takes two steps back. “Hey,” he says pleasantly. “What the fuck is going on here.”

Jin Guangyao adopts a look of mild concern. “Do they not meet your satisfaction?

What the fuck. “Haha, what. I mean what. I mean yes. What?”

It’s not like Wei Wuxian isn’t attracted to them. He has eyes, he can see that they’re objectively beautiful. It’s just–he wasn’t raised like this.

“Would you prefer men?” Jin Guangyao asks politely, like this is a reasonable conversation topic. “I can arrange to have some sent to your rooms.”

Not unless they’re Lan Zhan. No! No! Bad Wei Wuxian! “No!” Wei Wuxian says hastily. “Why would you–who are you– whose idea was this.”

Wei Wuxian’s read a lot of stuff and heard a lot of stuff, but there’s a difference between that and real life people, okay, a world of a difference that is freaking him out right now.

“My apologies, I assumed–” Jin Guangyao begins.

“No need!” Wei Wuxian nearly shrieks, waving his hands frantically. “Tell your father I’m–grateful or whatever, I just remembered, I gotta, uh.”

And then he runs.

“JIN ZIXUAN!” Wei Wuxian yells, throwing the doors to Jin Zixuan’s rooms open dramatically. The way the giant golden peony painted on them splits in half as they slide open is incredibly satisfying. “Your father!”

Jin Zixuan startles out of his seat when he hears Wei Wuxian yell. Mianmian merely sighs. Both of them turn to watch him shake his finger at them. 

“What did he do?” Jin Zixuan asks warily.

“He sent prostitutes to my room!” Wei Wuxian shrieks. 

Jin Zixuan turns red and Mianmian snorts into her tea. Wei Wuxian plops down at their table without asking, and glares at her.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t believe I ever believed your reputation,” Mianmian says. She takes a sip of her tea and then cackles loudly. “Did none of them introduce herself as Yuandao?”

Jin Zixuan buries his face in his hands. “Mianmian, please.”

“Didn’t you at least try to flirt with them?” Mianmian asks, ignoring him completely. She lowers in her voice in a terrible impression of Wei Wuxian. “Hey ladies, I’m sure you’ve heard of how I raised armies with my demonic flute…don’t you wanna know what else I can do with Chenqing?”

“Mianmian,” Jin Zixuan begs. “I will pay you solid gold to stop.”

“I hate you so much,” Wei Wuxian says, with feeling.

Mianmian presses one sleeve over her mouth and keeps right on giggling. 

“And your father’s probably paid them to snoop through my stuff,” Wei Wuxian groans, cradling his head in his hands. He looks up in order to steal Mianmian’s tea, and then goes back to brooding. “I hate it here.”

“I hate it here too,” Mianmian agrees.

“This is treason,” Jin Zixuan says, unconfidently.

“You’re treason,” Wei Wuxian mutters rebelliously.

Jin Zixuan sighs. It seems he hasn’t learned not to argue with Wei Wuxian, because he says in a complete monotone; “Be nice, Mianmian, you forget he’s in love with the Stone Wall.”

It’s Wei Wuxian’s turn for his face to turn bright red. “Don’t call him that!” He flares angrily, one moment from putting Jin Zixuan in a headlock like he does with Jiang Cheng. “And nobody said that,” he adds, sulking.

“Of course, of course,” Mianmian says solemnly. “Do you think the Stone Wall could’ve scared them away with his mere righteous presence?”

“Stop calling Lan Zhan a stone wall!” Wei Wuxian shouts. “He’s really expressive, if you know where to look, and his ears blush when–anyway! Lan Zhan is ten times the person you’ll ever b–”

“Head Disciple Jiang!” Jin Guangyao appears in the doorway, which Wei Wuxian had forgotten to close. “Surely there’s no n–” he stutters to a stop when he sees Wei Wuxian sitting down next to his half-brother. 

“Guangyao,” Wei Wuxian sighs. “Would you stop freaking out. Really, I think it was rather rude of your father to ask that of you.”

“My father–”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop insulting your father in front of you. Probably. Take a break, you make me nervous with how hard you work.” Wei Wuxian waves to the empty spot next to him.

“I thank you for the offer, but Madame Jin–”

“She can wait one night,” Wei Wuxian interrupts once more. “Right?” He kicks Jin Zixuan on the shin.

Jin Zixuan scowls at him, then turns to look at the air next to Jin Guangyao. “We have jasmine tea,” he tells the air stiffly.

“Try again,” Mianmian says, amused.

The heir to Lanling turns bright red. He tries again. “Sit down,” he orders.

“He’s trying to say that we would appreciate your company,” Wei Wuxian translates, waving Mianmian’s teacup at the empty spot. 

“I–” Jin Guangyao looks utterly lost for a moment. Wei Wuxian wonders if he steamrolled over him a bit too hard. Finally, the young man pulls himself together. “I would be honored.”

“It’s a start,” Wei Wuxian decides, and serves him tea.

Wei Wuxian returns to his rooms in the morning with a plan. He slides the doors open carefully, as if something might jump out at him. The rooms are just as he left them. They’re clean and tidy, courtesy of the Jin servant staff, and occupied by three women wearing blue and pale green robes that leave little to the imagination. Wei Wuxian knows little about makeup, but their faces are caked, and their hair styles are simple but pretty. 

Their foxlike smiles and suggestive lounges have turned into uncertain smiles and nervous movements. Wei Wuxian relates.

“Uh, hi,” he begins, and closes the doors behind him. “Listen, I think there was a bit of a misunderstanding last night…do any of you know how to play weiqi?”

The three of them exchange confused glances. 

“Or painting?” Wei Wuxian asks hopefully. “Can any of you paint?”

The woman with blue robes–he keeps thinking woman for the sake of his own sanity, but behind the makeup he suspects she’s several years younger than him, which makes her a girl–inclines her head. “If it pleases the esteemed cultivator–”

“Okay you know what? I’ll just teach you.” Wei Wuxian decides before she can finish her sentence, stepping further into his rooms. “It can’t be that hard, right?” He rambles. “I’m Head Disciple for something. Not that I’ve ever taught painting. But I’m sure I can figure it out. I’m sure you can figure it out. In case you ever want…a different profession.”

He leaves his rooms when the warm autumn sun hangs high over the sky, and the morning is just beginning to fade into afternoon. It’s lunchtime in Lanling, and he’s hoping to grab something to eat before he leaves to practice his cultivation alone in one of the forests surrounding Koi Tower. 

“What is this?!”

The sharp rebuke stops Wei Wuxian in his tracks just before he leaves the main hall. He recognizes Madame Jin’s voice immediately. He Lixuan visited her sworn sister in Lotus Pier plenty of times over the years, though she was never yelling then. But Wei Wuxian recognizes the difference in her tone between the legendary arguments she has with her husband and the voice she uses on servants. He has no interest in coming between Jin Guangshan and He Lixuan in their failed marriage, but he is worried for the servant that has caught Madame Jin’s ire.

He looks to his right, and it’s Jin Guangyao.

“Useless!” Madame Jin yells. She raises her hand, and Wei Wuxian is moving before he even sees Jin Guangyao flinch and lower his eyes.

The slap connects with the side of Wei Wuxian’s face, and He Lixuan and Jin Guangyao both freeze. Wei Wuxian barely blinks. “Madame Jin,” he greets politely.

Madame Jin is breathing heavily, her gray eyes wide with surprise. “Head Disciple Jiang,” she says reluctantly. 

Wei Wuxian shoulders Jin Guangyao back until it looks like he was holding a conversation with He Lixuan all this time. “It’s come to my attention,” he says conversationally, “that you haven’t gone on a night hunt in years.”

To be precise, she hasn’t gone night-hunting since she married Jin Guangshan, but there’s no need to get mean about it.

Wei Wuxian smiles. The smile bares all his teeth. “How would you like to go night-hunting with me?”

He doesn’t know He Lixuan, but he does know that Madame Yu wouldn’t be sworn sisters with someone who didn’t find stabbing things to be a great anger outlet.

He Lixuan’s pretty face twists in a scowl, but then it settles into an expression of reluctance, and Wei Wuxian knows that he’s got her. She can’t resist. 

It’s better than using Jin Guangyao as her anger outlet. She’s Madame Yu all over again, taking her anger out on Wei Wuxian because she can do nothing about her husband’s decision. Madame Jin has no power to stop her husband from legitimizing his bastard son, and so she takes it out on the bastard son. The powerless attacking the powerless. The weak against the weaker. Strength could never be measured by how strong your spiritual cultivation is. 

He Lixuan lowers her hand. “Fine,” she says.

The forests of Lanling are gorgeous in the fall, and Wei Wuxian finds it a crime that he never has the time to enjoy the scenery. When he ventures into the forests during the day, it’s because he needs a secluded place to practice cultivation. Now that he’s night-hunting with Madame Jin, it’s too dark to appreciate the treasure trove of colors adorning every tree. 

Wei Wuxian has officially confirmed that Jin Zixuan inherited his talent for cultivation from his mother and not Jin Guangshan. 

“So,” He Lixuan says conversationally. She still hasn’t broken a sweat, and her sword is dripping in blood. “I heard you taught prostitutes how to paint.”

He Lixuan loses most of her formality in the thrill of a hunt, which is pretty much exactly what Wei Wuxian had hoped for. He doesn’t know if it’s because she hasn’t night-hunted since before she married, or the act of night-hunting in and of itself, but whatever it is works.

Still, Wei Wuxian decides not to tell her that he also taught them accounting and bookkeeping. Just in case. The Jiang sect is sort of in need of people at the moment, and if he sufficiently distracts Jiang Cheng, he won’t ask where the new assistants came from.  

“I couldn’t think of anything else to do,” Wei Wuxian says solemnly. “I wanted to give them choices.”

Their conversation pauses as they come across a small nest of ghouls, and the two of them descend upon them like a pair of beasts. 

“Choices,” He Lixuan snorts, when they’re finished. “They made their choices.”

“To survive,” Wei Wuxian agrees. They trudge through the thick trees, side by side, cultivator to cultivator. “But they didn’t choose to be sent to my rooms. I didn’t choose that either. I chose what I did afterwards.” He side-eyes He Lixuan, but she doesn’t look mad yet, so he continues. “Guangyao didn’t choose to be born a bastard.”

Finally, her cheeks color. “He certainly takes advantage of it,” she says icily. 

“He’s certainly a filial son,” Wei Wuxian agrees. “A great advisor for your son in the future.”

He Lixuan scowls. “I may not have a choice in whether he stays, but I will certainly never trust him, and neither will A-Xuan.”

“Maybe not,” Wei Wuxian says, “but you could at least not blame him for the crimes of his father.”

“Who are you to tell me how to run my household?” He Lixuan retorts, but she doesn’t laugh in his face, either.

Wei Wuxian shrugs. “Madame Jin, you know the person responsible has always been Sect Leader Jin.”

“Well, there’s nothing I can do about that, is there?” He Lixuan snaps, and then they’re fighting corpses again, slicing through tree trunks with a single stroke of their swords. 

There’s a small clearing around them by the time the fighting is over. He Lixuan places one boot on one of the fallen tree trunks and kicks it once. The trunk rolls over the fallen corpse. 

“My son tells me you’ve been helping him court Yanli,” He Lixuan says finally. 

Wei Wuxian shrugs again. “I believe in second chances.”

He Lixuan snorts. She looks up at him for a moment, then at her sword. She holds her sword up with a quick flick of her wrist, and runs two fingers down the length of the blade, spiritual energy sparking at the contact. When she’s finished, the blade is clean of blood.

“I can see why Ziyuan hated you so much,” He Lixuan says, and it doesn’t sound like an insult. 

Wei Wuxian whistles sharply, and the corpse behind He Lixuan freezes in its tracks. He uses Chenqing to remove all the resentful energy from it until it collapses. Then he steps back, putting Chenqing back on his belt. 

“I’m out of practice,” He Lixuan says stiffly.

“It doesn’t seem like it,” Wei Wuxian says solemnly. 

He Lixuan sniffs, so much like her son that Wei Wuxian almost laughs out loud. “My husband has been messing around with demonic cultivation,” she says grudgingly, and it feels like a concession. She nods at his flute. “You might want to keep track of that.”

In the end, Wei Wuxian finds out about Jin Guangshan’s dubious activities through mere chance. 

Brown leaves carpet the forest floor that Wei Wuxian walks on his way back to Koi Tower after practice. His entire body is utterly exhausted from the intense hours he just put into his cultivation, pushing himself beyond the limits of what any normal person would put themselves through. He stops walking briefly to stretch his arms behind his back, and in that brief moment when the leaves beneath him no longer crunch loudly with every step, he hears the voices.

“…Tiger Seal,” he hears, from a low male voice to his left.

He stops in his tracks and turns left. 

“…for months,” says another voice, in between the leaves crunching. “…know that…eventually…” There’s a loud thud, presumably from a large object hitting the floor.

Wei Wuxian tries to creep up as quietly as he can, but autumn leaves are loud. By the time he gets there, the voices have faded away and the people are gone.

There: a pit in the middle of a Lanling forest. 

Seeing no one around, Wei Wuxian approaches the pit and peers down. A pile of corpses are at the bottom, but before Wei Wuxian even begins to study them he knows that something is off about the resentful energy coming from them. And after he studies them he sits back on his ankles, disappointed, but not surprised.

The Jins have been experimenting with demonic cultivation.

The proof is evident. Wei Wuxian would be a hypocrite if he found something wrong with that, but the way they’re doing it is clear too. He doesn’t have proof that Xue Yang was involved like he said he was, but he believes it. The Jins have clearly been killing people in order to fund their experiments; torturing them too, based on his observations. 

Wei Wuxian begins to stand up, mind racing. He doesn’t have proof that Jin Guangshan is behind all of this, or knows about any of this, but now that Wei Wuxian knows he’s determined to find proof. It’s obvious now why Jin Guangshan has been trying so hard to recruit him for the Jin sect, with all his unsubtle promises of gold and women–

And then the sounds of a guqin begin to ring across the clearing. 

The leaves rustle as Wei Wuxian spins on his heel. He doesn’t think for a moment that it’s Lan Zhan, and is proven correct when a figure in white and faded blue melts out of the trees. It’s a man Wei Wuxian doesn’t recognize, with playing subpar to Lan Zhan’s. Wei Wuxian reaches for both weapons at the same time, while Jins come barrelling out from the trees, swords drawn.

It’s not until he loses connection to his spiritual energy that Wei Wuxian realizes what the guqin player has been doing. His cultivation is sealed, and oh Wei Wuxian didn’t miss this feeling. He yanks Chenqing out of his belt, brings it to his lips, ready to show these Jins how much he needs spiritual cultivation, but for the briefest of moments he hesitates.

This is war on the Jin sect.

Jiang Cheng and Nie Mingjue will support him, of that Wei Wuxian is confident. Jin Guangshan’s attempts at recruitment have fallen through; he probably wants Wei Wuxian dead now, and he’s the only one in Koi Tower with power. And Wei Wuxian is far from friends with Lan Xichen.

If he had the backing of the other three great sects Wei Wuxian wouldn’t have hesitated. He doesn’t want to pit the Jiang and Nie sects against the other two, so soon after the war with the Jiang sect still as fragile as it is. He’s needed in Lotus Pier, he can’t afford to get himself exiled to protect the Jiangs. 

The Lans detest demonic cultivation. The problem is that they also detest Wei Wuxian. Lan Qiren hadn’t believed Xue Yang when he said he was hired by the Jins; he would never take the word of a murderer. He would never take Wei Wuxian’s word if he said he killed Jins because they attacked him first. None of the Lans would, except maybe for Lan Zhan.

So Wei Wuxian hesitates. He hesitates just long enough for the Jin disciples to rip Chenqing from his hands before he can play and hold a sword to his throat.

“How unfortunate,” Jin Guangshan says, emerging from the trees last. He fans himself idly. “Kill him. No. Wait.”

The disciple pressing his sword into Wei Wuxian’s throat removes some of the pressure, leaving a thin, burning red line behind. 

“Bind him,” Jin Guangshan instructs. “Bring the flute to me.”

The disciples withdraw several lengths of Immortal Binding Cable, and the one holding the sword to his throat brings it down in order to do so. Immediately, Wei Wuxian begins to whistle. A cloud of resentful energy enshrouds him after one piercing note. 

“Silence him!” Jin Guangshan snaps.

One disciple shoves a piece of cloth in Wei Wuxian’s mouth so hard he gags, and the other finishes tying the cable, winding up his wrists to his elbows. Jin Guangshan approaches slowly, watching Wei Wuxian snarl wordlessly and try fruitlessly to pull himself out of the Jin disciples’ grip. Wei Wuxian’s eyes flicker to the guqin player hovering silently in the background.

“You’re going to tell us how to remove the sealing talismans on your notes and the Seal,” Jin Guangshan states. He raises an eyebrow when Wei Wuxian shakes his head furiously. “No?”

He and the Jin disciples push Wei Wuxian back, despite his struggles, to the edge of the pit. One of his feet accidentally slip over the edge, sending brown leaves fluttering down the hole. The corpses below begin to growl and moan. One disciple takes Suibian from Wei Wuxian’s belt; another the ribbon in his hair.

“You’ll change your mind soon enough,” Jin Guangshan sneers. “It’s your life.” 

He nods at the disciples, and they push him backwards. His boots kick up a storm of leaves as he teeters backwards, unable to catch his balance. The red and orange leaves from the trees around him detach from their branches in the quiet way all autumn leaves do as Wei Wuxian plummets, stomach dropping, arms twisting behind his back, spit pooling around the sweaty cloth in his mouth.

They fall.

Chapter Text

The package arrives in Lotus Pier so innocuously. 

It’s a breezy autumn day in Yunmeng, and the warm winds blow boats off course all around the piers. The markets are still overflowing with this year’s harvest, and traders and merchants come piling into Lotus Pier, hoping to scam the new untried sect leader. 

It’s one such boat that docks by one of the wooden piers, carrying not a trader or a merchant but a messenger bearing letters from Lanling. She ties her boat to the dock and then jumps out with her pile of letters, stuffed in its usual sack on the floor of the boat. 

But today the sack is heavier than usual. Today, the messenger withdraws two items from her sack before slinging it onto her back. Today, she doesn’t trudge the path from the piers to Lotus Hall. Today, she runs.

The messenger bursts into Lotus Hall like ghouls are after her. “Where’s the sect leader?” She demands of the disciples stationed at the walls. She bends over, hands on her knees, while the disciples exchange glances. They look at the packages in her hands, and then each other.

“This way,” they say, and lead her to the pavilion where Sect Leader Jiang and Lady Jiang have breakfast. 

Sect Leader Jiang does not look happy to be disturbed, but he does see how disheveled the messenger is, and waves her over. “What is it?”

Trembling from head to toe, the messenger prostrates herself in front of the two Jiangs and presents her two packages. “I-it’s a letter from Sect Leader Jin,” she says.

Sandu Shengshou goes white when he sees the first package, recognizing as the messenger had the shape of it. He snatches it up while Lady Jiang takes the second package, a simple letter from Sect Leader Jin. Sect Leader Jiang snaps the rope holding the cloth covering together rather than taking the time to untie it, and rips the cloth off furiously. There’s a sword inside, inside a sheath that Jiang Cheng recognizes too well, and when he draws the sword, he knows it almost as well as he knows his own.

“A-Cheng,” Lady Jiang says, one sleeve pressed against her mouth while the other holds the letter up to the light. Her lovely eyes are wide with horror. “A-Cheng.”

“No,” Sect Leader Jiang says, tearing his gaze away from Suibian lying innocently on his breakfast table. He doesn’t even listen to what the letter has to say. “He didn’t carry Suibian with him, maybe–maybe–”

The messenger gets to her feet without being asked and backs out of the pavilion, trying not to intrude on their conversation when it’s clear they’ve already forgotten about her presence. 

And an autumn wind rustles through the pavilion after she’s gone, trying to tear the letter out of Jiang Yanli’s hands. It smells of spices and freshwater, and around the pavilion lotus flowers are wilting, leaves are browning, because it is, after all, the fall.

The letter arrives in the Cloud Recesses so innocuously. 

It’s waiting for Lan Xichen with his usual pile of correspondence when he settles in to do work for the day, and he reaches for it first, recognizing the mark of Sect Leader Jin on it. 

He reads it.

Then he reads it again, and again, and then his feet are moving on autopilot out of the room, blinding tracking down his brother.

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen says when he finds him, letter still shaking in his hands, “there’s something you should know.”

Lan Wangji is moving before he even finishes reading the letter.

“We should at least stop at Lotus Pier before we do anything rash,” Lan Xichen says quickly, moving as well. He knows he has no hope of stopping his brother; he only helps to redirect him until he’s thinking a little more clearly. “I am sure they know more than us.”

He isn’t sure if Wangji can even hear him right now, so Lan Xichen finds himself mounting his sword and abandoning the Cloud Recesses. The two brothers take off down the mountain, the letter still clutched in Lan Wangji’s bone-white grip.

The letter arrives in the Unclean Realm so innocuously.

Nie Mingjue is at his desk when he reads it, with a sense of dread and reluctance that fills him every time he picks up a letter from Sect Leader Jin. He’s frowning by the time he finishes the letter, and without taking the time to read it again, he stands up, and goes looking for assistance.

“This can’t be right,” Wen Qing says, when they’ve all sat down and read the letter.

Nie Huaisang frowns in thought and fans himself slowly. “Hasn’t no one seen that plant in centuries?” He asks. “It’s possible.”

“No, it’s not,” Wen Qing says, “because the effects of the plant are inversely proportional to the strength of the consumer’s golden core. It’s impossible for the drink to have killed him mere hours after he drank it, I don’t care how hard he’s been practicing.”

“In his last letter he said he was at the level of a thirteen year old,” Wen Ning pipes up.

Wen Qing nods. “So it’s simply not possible.”

Nie Mingjue is still frowning. “And based on what he told us about what Xue Yang said about the Jins, it’s most likely that Wei Wuxian discovered whatever they’ve been up to, and they found out.”

“Yes,” Wen Qing agrees, standing up. “A-Ning and I will go to Lotus Pier.”

“Wait,” Nie Huaisang says, hurriedly stashing his fan and standing up. “We’ll come too, but–just because Wei Wuxian didn’t die of an accident as the Jins claim doesn’t mean he didn’t, you know,” he spreads his arms helplessly, and all four of them exchange a dark look. “Die.”

Luo Qingyang pulls a letter out of her pocket with no memory of how it got there. 

“What’s that?” Jin Zixuan asks, watching her face morph almost comically as she reads it. 

“An answer to why Wuxian disappeared yesterday,” she says, and hands him the letter.

Jin Zixuan sits down on the grass.

“Do you think,” Luo Qingyang begins cautiously, when he finishes reading it, “it’s from…?” She doesn’t finish her sentence, but instead glances around the courtyard. It’s Jin Zixuan’s private lotus pond, but privacy means nothing to the Jins.

But she knows they’re both thinking of Jin Guangyao.

The letter is a small slip of paper, with nothing on it but a set of directions. 

“Father said he died of qi poisoning,” Jin Zixuan says, “and there’s a dozen witnesses.”

And there’s a mysterious slip of paper in Luo Qingyang’s robes, and the knowledge that Jin Guangshan is a consummate liar. 

“Wuxian couldn’t have died from qi poisoning,” Luo Qingyang says firmly. “He’s been paranoid for months.”

She doesn’t say what he’s paranoid of, but they both know. They know.

Jin Zixuan hunches over from his seated position. He yanks grass from the ground, taking his anger out on something that can’t fight back. “I can’t disobey my father,” he says miserably.

Luo Qingyang is suddenly and incadescnetly furious at Jin Guangshan. He has everything, and it’s not enough. His wife is a powerful cultivator and a brilliant woman, and it’s not enough. Lianfang-zun wanted to join his sect and he couldn’t, not without humiliating him as much as possible. Jin Zixuan would be a much better sect leader than his father, but he’s here instead, confessing to Luo Qingyang all that he’s unable to do. 

And suddenly the answer is obvious to Luo Qingyang. Why Jin Guangyao put the note in her robes. Why no one has ever stood up to Jin Guangshan. What she can do about it. “But I can,” she says, unable to recognize her own voice. “I’ll investigate.”

Jin Zixuan’s head jerks up. “No, you can’t,” he says. “He’ll exile you from the sect, at best. I can’t protect you,” he says, anguished. He’s never refrained from throwing money at his friends (well, just Mianmian, his only friend), but that’s about the extent of his abilities. 

“I don’t care,” Luo Qingyang says steadily. “I don’t care,” she says again, and she’s reaching for the fabric of her yellow Jin robes.  

Jin Guangyao can’t disobey his father because his entire life depends on that man’s generosity. Jin Zixuan can’t disobey his father because he’s his father’s heir, and he can’t afford to get disowned by him, and his mother is relying on him to be her legacy. No woman in Koi Tower can afford to disobey him because their life depends on his whims. Luo Qingyang can’t afford to challenge him because her entire livelihood depends on him. She knows no other way of life than that of a disciple in a cultivation sect. She can’t afford to. She can’t afford to. She can’t–

Luo Qingyang pulls off her Jin robes. 

Jin Zixuan flinches, but he doesn’t say anything. He stands silently and hands her the piece of paper, which she destroys with a small burst of qi. 

“Are you sure?” Jin Zixuan asks quietly.

Sect Leader Jin’s power over Koi Tower was given to him by Koi Tower. Luo Qingyang depended on him as much as she chose to. And every time Jin Guangshan had the power to commit another wrong against the people who depended on him, he chose to. And every time they chose to duck their heads and let him get away with more and more, they chose to, and they chose to, and they chose.

“Yes,” says Luo Qingyang.

Wei Wuxian is dead. 

Jiang Cheng has heard that sentence far too many times in his short lifespan, but somehow it never gets easier to hear, though he believes it less and less each time. 

Afternoon falls over Lotus Pier, and he and Jiang Yanli still don’t know what to do. Jiang Cheng hasn’t let go of Suibian since he took it out of the cloth this morning. He and Jiang Yanli have been crying all day, and neither of them know what to do.

“I should’ve told him,” Jiang Yanli says, in one of the rare moments when her sleeves aren’t pressed over her face. “I didn’t tell him about Sect Leader Nie’s proposal. I wanted to surprise him, and– oh, this is all my fault.” She buries her face in her hands again. “And he died without ever knowing!”

“He can’t be dead,” Jiang Cheng insists, too deep in denial to comfort his sister. “You know Wei Wuxian, he never dies. It’s imposisble to kill him. There must be some mistake.”

“A-Cheng,” Jiang Yanli sobs, “A-Cheng, he–”

“You are not permitted here!” 

The voice of one of the Jiang disciples startles both siblings out of their stupor. Jiang Cheng hastily wipes his hand over his face, but he still looks far from presentable. He strides to the door, intending to open it and yell at whoever is outside until he feels better, but the door opens before he can.

Wen Qing and Wen Ning stand in the doorway, breathing hard. 

Jiang Cheng recoils. “What are you doing here?” He snarls, displeased to see Wens in his home again. “Shouldn’t you be in Qinghe?”

“We were,” Wen Qing says, still catching her breath. “Sect Leader Nie came with us. He’s–”

“Why did you run?” It’s Nie Huaisang, out of breath as he reaches the Wen siblings’ side. “You know I can’t,” he takes a moment to pant heavily, “do physical exercise.”

Jiang Cheng moves to slide the door closed in their faces, but Wen Ning catches the frame and holds it open. Wen Qing steps quickly into the room, followed by Nie Huaisang, and Zidian is sparking up and down Jiang Cheng’s arm. He draws it back, seeing red.

“A-Cheng, wait.” Jiang Yanli puts a hand on his arm and Jiang Cheng stills, breathing heavily.

A tall fourth figure appears in the doorway, towering over the other three. It’s the broad-shouldered figure of Sect Leader Nie, showing up unannounced in Lotus Hall.

“Sect Leader Jiang,” Nie Mingjue says. “It was not my intention to reveal this secret, but as Wei Wuxian is dead, you deserve to know.”

Something about the formal way he announces Wei Wuxian’s death sends Jiang Cheng to his knees. Jiang Yanli places her hands on his shoulders, but she can’t pull him up.

“No,” Jiang Cheng whispers. “No, no–he can’t be. He can’t be.”

“Lady Wen has additional knowledge of his circumstances that you should know,” Sect Leader Nie says, closing the doors behind him. 

Jiang Cheng shoots to his feet, red hot with anger once more, dislodging Jiang Yanli’s hands from his shoulders. “What would a Wen know?” He shouts furiously. “What could she know about Wei Wuxian that he wouldn’t tell my sister and I?” 

Wen Qing opens her mouth to speak, but Jiang Cheng rounds on her before she can. “Wei Wuxian didn’t use Suibian, but he was still a damn powerful cultivator!” Jiang Cheng rages. “W–”

“He didn’t have a golden core!” 

Jiang Cheng shuts his mouth. There’s something akin to dread or horror building in his stomach, but the words have been spoken, and he turns to look at the speaker.

Wen Ning, usually so meek and gentle, glares at him, and continues with a vicious tone Jiang Cheng would’ve never expected from him. “He gave it to you,” Wen Ning says.

Some strangled noise comes from Jiang Yanli’s throat. Jiang Cheng is stunned silence for a moment, world overthrown. “He can’t’ve,” he manages. The edges of his vision are narrowing, and he pushes through the two Nies and two Wens, desperate to get away. He reaches the door and the wood cracks when he touches it, and shudders when he opens it. “You’re–” 

Jiang Cheng stares into the equally stunned faces of Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji. “…Lying.”

“Oh,” Lan Xichen says, utterly speechless, and then again; “Oh.”

Jiang Cheng has no idea what face Lan Wangji is making, but it’s the closest to emotion he’s ever seen from the famously stone-faced Lan. 

“Oh no,” Wen Ning squeaks, all of his anger gone in the face of the two new visitors. “Oh, he’s going to be so upset when he learns I told them.”

“If he’s still alive,” Nie Huaisang says helpfully. 

“Oh,” Lan Xichen says again.

“Jin Guangshan has no reason to keep him alive,” Nie Huaisang adds. 

“Hostage,” Wen Qing says flatly.

“We will help,” Lan Wangji says, rudely inviting himself into the Lotus Hall.

“A-Xian wouldn’t want that,” Jiang Yanli says, darting a look at her brother.

“I understand he’s reluctant to accept help,” Lan Xichen says, smile finally cracking, “but this time he’s got to! He refused all our help in Gusu, and where did that get him?”

“I–that’s definitely not what happened,” Jiang Cheng says, mind reeling, working through far too many things to remember what exactly Wei Wuxian said in his letters from Gusu.

“If you hadn’t shunned him at every turn, we wouldn’t be in this situation!” Wen Qing shouts. “All due respect, Sect Leader Lan,” she adds pithily. 

“Ah,” Wen Ning says, “Uh. We don’t know that.”

Sect Leader Lan blinks, taken aback. “I tried my best to welcome him,” he begins. 

“He was so desperate to get away he was glad to go to Lanling!” And it’s Jiang Yanli, of all people, shouting. Jiang Cheng doesn’t think he’s ever heard her raise her voice before, but here she is now, crying and shouting. “A-Xian is never glad to go to Lanling! Why couldn’t you see that he was trying?”

“Useless,” Lan Wangji snaps, monosyllabic as always, and technically not wrong. They’ve drifted far from the discussion of Wei Wuxian’s death and Jiang Cheng is just realizing that if Wei Wuxian didn’t have a core, he couldn’t have died of qi poisoning, and of course he couldn’t teach the disciples, no wonder he wanted to get away. 

But his temper, already frayed, completely snaps at Lan Wangji’s high-handed demeanor, and Zidian springs out of the ring and trails on the floorboards without Jiang Cheng’s conscious thought. “Yeah, well you’ve never been helpful!” Jiang Cheng shouts at Lan Wangji, his right arm trembling with the amount of energy it takes to hold himself back. “Maybe if you hadn’t yelled at him so much during the war he would’ve been willing to accept help!” And he’s thinking of Jin Zixuan, and how hard Jiang Yanli took it when he yelled at her, how she cried in public for the first time ever, and how everyone has let her weak core determine her worth. “Maybe if you’d called him ridiculous and useless less he would’ve told me–” He’s crying in front of Hanguang-jun and two sect leaders now, and there is not a bone in his body that cares. “Maybe if you’d deigned to help he wouldn’t be dead!”

And that’s pure fury in Lan Wangji’s perfect face. Jiang Cheng can recognize rage on anyone; it’s like looking for a mirror. His left hand is reaching for a sword, he doesn’t know if it’s Suibian or Sandu, but at this point it hardly matters. In the back of his mind he’s thinking that if he has Wei Wuxian’s core, then he’s finally Wei Wuxian’s equal, and if he’s Wei Wuxian’s equal, then he’s Lan Wangji’s equal as well, and he has two decades of rage to release. 

Lan Wangji’s hand is moving towards the hilt of his own sword, and for a moment Jiang Cheng thinks that they actually will come to blows, right here in the middle of the Lotus Hall. Zidian whips around in all its violet fury, but for once it will come to Wei Wuxian’s defense instead of breaking across his back. 

“STOP!”

Nie Mingjue’s commanding voice freezes everyone inside the enclosed pavilion. Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng don’t stop glaring at each other, but their hands pause on the hilts of their sword. 

“Everyone calm down,” Nie Mingjue orders at a lower volume. It’s on leftover instincts from the war that both of them obey, so used are they to listening to Chifeng-zun’s orders. “Blaming each other will not help. Xichen, I don’t understand what went so wrong in the Cloud Recesses, but I can vouch for Wei Wuxian. He did not use demonic cultivation through choice. And even if he did, that does not justify Sect Leader Jin’s attempted murder of him.”

“I’m sorry,” Lan Xichen says, “what?”

“Sect Leader Jin claims that due to the strength of Wei Wuxian’s cultivation, he died within hours before the Jins were able to help,” Wen Qing explains steadily. “Only that impossible, because his core–his second core–could not have been strong enough to kill him that quickly. On top of that, Wei Wuxian has suspected Sect Leader Jin ever since he fought Xue Yang in Tingshan of using unscrupulous means to learn demonic cultivation.”

“I see,” says Lan Xichen.

“So in other words,” Nie Huaisang pipes up, “we believe that Wei Wuxian discovered some activity of Sect Leader Jin’s, and Sect Leader Jin killed him to hide it.”

“I see,” Lan Xichen says again. “How can we prove it?”

There’s eight men and women in Lotus Hall, and they all exchange bleak but determined looks. 

“We go to Lanling,” Jiang Yanli answers.

Just as the upper levels of Koi Tower are for the richest members of the Jin clan, the lower levels are for the poorest. It’s on these levels that the servants live. Below those, on lowest levels, are where the prisoners are held. Where the dangerous and priceless treasures of the Jins are kept under guard. 

It’s to one of these levels that the slip of paper directions Luo Qingyang. She emerges from the stairwell in pink and white robes, hair up and sword drawn. 

The hallway is well-lit. At the very end, perhaps twenty meters from the stairway, is a an innocuous wooden door locked with talismans. It could be any other treasure room in Lanling, but Luo Qingyang knows immediately that she’s in the right place. 

“Hey,” the nearest disciple says. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

For every meter between Luo Qingyang and the door is a Jin guard. She estimates there’s around twenty, but she can’t even count all of them. All of them look equally bored. If she knows Lanling as well as she thinks she does, none of them know what they’re guarding or why they’ve been assigned to this corridor. 

Luo Qingyang opens her mouth. She can’t say she was sent here by Jin Zixuan, because even if they did let her pass, they wouldn’t let her leave, and then Jin Zixuan would get in trouble with his father anyway. She can’t say that she was sent here by Madame Jin or Jin Guangyao because they wouldn’t let her pass. 

If she wants to pass, she has to make them. 

“Ah,” Luo Qingyang says. “I suppose not.”

Luo Qingyang is here only by the directions written on a random piece of paper she found in her pocket. Only because of her suspicion that there’s something off about Wei Wuxian’s death. Only because she believes in Wei Wuxian, only because she wants to return the sacrifice he made in Qishan for a girl he hardly knew.

But anyone can throw away their life for a cause they believe is right. The only question is how far a person is willing to go.

Luo Qingyang takes a step forward. The closest Jin guard peels himself off the wall and blocks her path. “Hey, little lady,” he says. “I said turn back. Shoo. Only the sect leader is allowed down here.”

“Oh,” Luo Qingyang says. She takes another step forward. “My mistake.”

The other guards, all slouching against the wall, are looking at her now, attention piqued. It’s a narrow hallway, slightly wider than the width of two people.

Luo Qingyang’s armpits begin to sweat as her nervousness shoots through the roof. But she believes. She believes. 

“Hey,” the guard snaps. “What do you think you’re doing?” But his eyes have long since drifted from her face. “Unless you’re open to a different form of payment–”

Three things happen almost at the same time. First, Luo Qingyang takes another step forward, and brings her sword in front of her. Second, the man reaches for her. Some part of her, she’s not sure which. And third, Luo Qingyang’s sword flashes up, cuts off the offending hand, and slides over his arm to puncture his ribcage, right over the heart.

There’s a moment of stunned stillness amongst the remaining guards, but Luo Qingyang, earlier nervousness now burned into pure adrenaline, is already moving. She shoves the man off her sword with one white boot and starts sprinting, sending her sword out in front of her. It tears right through the second man before he even draws his sword, and she doesn’t let up, piercing the third guard in the throat before she brings it back to her side.

Luo Qingyang jumps nimbly over the body of the second guard and wraps her hand around the hilt of her sword again, raising her arms to clash against the sword of the fourth guard. He’s drawn his sword by now and settled into a firm, wide stance, still surprised, but ready for her. The rest of the guards have barely managed to reach for their swords, still hanging back and not taking her seriously. 

“Just get her!” Urges one guard from the back. “What threat can one woman be?”

Instead of clashing against the fourth guard, Luo Qingyang shifts her grip on her sword and throws herself into a low diveroll. Her back hits the floor hard, and she lets go of her sword. Judging by the shout above her, it found its mark. She finishes her roll and summons her sword to her side again, rising to her feet in the same motion, and doesn’t pause to hear the thud of the man behind her falling to the ground before she’s sending her sword forward again, tearing through the chest of the fifth, woefully unprepared guard. 

She doesn’t start running again, but reaches up to her right while the men in front of her scramble to draw their swords. Her left hand fastens around the hilt of her sword at the same time as her right hand fastens around the torch on the wall. The wood cracks as she forcefully rips it from the wall and throws it with her non-dominant hand. Her aim is off, but the corridor is so narrow that it strikes the sixth guard anyway, who fails to block a flaming torch with his blade. 

The torch has barely left her hand and Luo Qingyang is already reaching for talisman, and with a short burst of qi it flies after the torch, moving faster and striking the guard at approximately the same time. The talisman briefly turns the fire pink and makes it flare up nearly twice its size, instead of going out when it strikes the man’s chest. His screams quickly split the air as his robes, which unlike the Lans are not warded against fire, catch on fire. He drops his sword and begins frantically trying to put the fire out. 

The scent of burning flesh hits Luo Qingyang’s nose as she runs past him, her sword flashing to the side in order to slice through his neck without slowing her down. She tries to kick the torch, and it flies off his falling body and up into the faces of the two men blocking the corridor in front of her. 

The seventh guard strikes the flaming torch down with his sword, but Luo Qingyang runs him through while his guard is down and kicks the torch down the corridor, engaging in a dangerous game of pass. The eighth guard tries to stab her while she runs the seventh guard through, and she barely manages to yank his body around, using her sword like a handle, to block the blow. He strikes his compatriot instead, sealing his fate, tearing a giant gash down his back, while Luo Qingyang shoves her sword through his body until it pierces the eighth guard’s ribs. He lets out a strangled gasp, fingers loosening on the hilt of his sword, and Luo Qingyang takes the opportunity to yank it from his grip with her right hand while her left continues shoving the sword through.

She steps back, and both men fall the the ground.

“She’s fucking crazy,” someone says, and then all the remaining guards are charging at her in unison, disbelief gone and swords drawn.

Luo Qingyang flips her sword to her right hand and brings her left hand up. The qi blast that follows is one that she learned from Wei Wuxian last month, which he in turn learned from the Wens. She doesn’t know how, and she didn’t want to know how. But she did learn how, and the spiritual energy that floods the corridor is so bright she temporarily looses sight of the guards. 

When the blue light clears, the robes of three guards are smoking, and the guards themselves are on the ground, two next to each other, and one behind. Pink sparks trail from the edges of their burnt robes.

The guards hesitate now, having passed through disbelief and rage and settled into confusion. The torch splutters at their feet. 

“Move,” Luo Qingyang says, with a confidence she doesn’t feel. 

“Someone move, I’m going to teach this bitch a lesson,” one of them snarls from the back of the group, and then the hallway explodes with motion once more. 

Luo Qingyang releases another qi blast, slightly less powerful than before, and starts running before she can see the effects of her work. The light works to her advantage, as she effectively blinds the guards with the qi blast and the torch she removed from the wall. 

The twelfth and thirteenth guards are channeling their own qi to block her qi blast when Luo Qingyang sends her sword flying, flickering between the two of them. It tears through the soft flesh of their necks and she shoves them aside with both hands while awful gurgling sounds emerge from their throats and their legs collapse underneath them. She grabs her sword from the air, and just in time, because the next two guards are barreling down at her, faces twisted in ugly snarls. 

The fifteenth guard is forced to stand back in order to not get slashed by the blade of the fourteenth guard, who brandishes his sword and lunges at Luo Qingyang in the typical showman, flamboyant style favored by the Jins. She parries his strike, but he forces her back, pushing her down the hallway. His right foot catches on the body of the guard on the floor and Luo Qingyang instantly presses her advantage, thrusting her sword at his right side. He steps back, exposing his side, and Luo Qingyang’s sword, vicious as a viper and twice as fast, cuts through his side. Then it slams through the fifteenth guard, trying to follow up his fellow guard’s attack. Her right hand is moving at the same time, withdrawing two tailsmans that she uses to pin them to the ground.

She keeps moving. 

The sixteenth and seventeenth guards attack her together, and she drops to the ground to avoid the point of their swords. She stands up before they fully spin around, and she grabs the back of the robes of one of them and drags him far enough off-course that when their swords return, they both lodge themselves in his body and not hers. The sixteenth guard chokes on his own blood while the seventeenth frantically withdraws his sword, but it’s too late, and Luo Qingyang slashes him from shoulder to knee while he’s distracted. 

Without looking back, she dodges, knowing full well that the remaining guards will take advantage of her turned back to attack her, and sure enough, a sword flies past the air she’d just been standing in. She spins around and to the side at the same time, avoiding a second sword. A guard still holding his sword attacks her furiously, so viciously that Luo Qingyang looses her footing and her back hits the ground hard, while the two swords pass over her head. The sword of the guard attacking her strikes the stone floor near her neck. Luo Qingyang knees him in the groin while her left hand burns with qi. She lets go of her sword briefly to ram her palm into the man’s chest, burning his spiritual veins with a complete lack of finesse. It’s a tatic used by cultivation doctors, but repurposed during the war for a bloody, painful death. 

A raw yell is torn from the guard’s throat, but Luo Qingyang is already forming another qi blast which sends him flying through the air and off of her chest. When he’s clear of her vision, she sees the nineteenth and twentieth guards standing above her, swords raised. They both try to stab her at the same time, while she’s still lying on her back on the ground.

Luo Qingyang tries to avoid both blades and stab the left one with her sword at the same time. She twists her body, and the guard on the right misses, while the sword of the guard on the left plunges through her left arm, narrowly missing her bone, and, she hopes, her muscle. Meanwhile, her sword tears through the right arm of the left guard. Later, she will realize that these were disciples who never fought in the war, not that many Jins did, based entirely on what follows. 

She barely registers the pain as she lurches to her feet, sword flying to her left hand in order to parry the sword of the right guard while the left guard cries on shock. His fingers spasm and he drops his sword. Luo Qingyang grits her teeth and the right guard forces her to retreat, though she still can’t feel the wound on her left arm. She breaks through his defenses and slides her sword home between his ribs just as they pass over one of the fallen guards. The twentieth guard barely has time to flinch in shock before Luo Qingyang is dragging her sword up, tearing through his torso like she’s cutting wood. When he falls to the ground, it’s in pieces. 

Luo Qingyang is already forming a qi blast before the twentieth guard even falls, and she releases it before he hits the ground. She sees a flash of silver in the corner of her vision and directs her qi blast sideways. It hits the sword of the nineteenth guard, the one whose arm she just stabbed, and slams it into the wall, where it shudders, and then falls to the ground. 

There’s blood running down her soft pink outer robes and onto her sword, which is already coated in fresh blood. Luo Qingyang raises her sword and flicks it before the blood can get on her left hand, making her grip slippery. 

The nineteenth and final guard, now swordless, stares at her, and there’s only terror in his eyes. 

“I said move,” Luo Qingyang says, and then she moves. 

When it’s over, she sheathes her sword without bothering to clean the blood off of it, and staggers to the doorway. She raises her right hand and tears through the wards like paper. She kicks the door open and it flies into the room, crashing into pieces on the stone floor. Luo Qingyang quickly scans the contents of the room, and it’s immediately obvious what she’s looking for. There’s a teleportation talisman, keyed to a specific location. Which location, she doesn’t know, but almost certainly it can tell her what happened to Wei Wuxian.

Luo Qingyang pockets the talisman and steps out of the room, over the broken pieces of the door. She surveys the mess littered along the length of the hallway. The torch she threw is still flickering on the floor. Twenty Jin guards lie still, some faceup, some on their stomach. Some of them are alive. Some of them aren’t. 

She summons a Jin messenger butterfly with her right hand. “I’ve got it,” she says. “Meet me. You know where.” 

With a flick of her finger, the butterfly is sent off, disappearing into blue sparks. She clutches the wound on her left arm with the palm of her right. Her qi is drained, she’s covered in blood and sweat. Her hair is full of wood splinters. Today she’s lost her sect, her home, and her right to join any other sect.

But when Luo Qingyang staggers out of the hallway, she is victorious.

When seven of the highest ranking members of the cultivation world arrive to Koi Tower, they happen upon a secret rendezvous at the same time. They arrive via sword, heading for one of the balconies, when Jiang Cheng looks down.

“It’s Mianmian,” he says. And then; “Why’s she covered in blood?”

It can’t be a coincidence, not in this situation, and so the seven of them fly down to the courtyard, which, strangely enough, has a lotus pond in it. 

Jin Zixuan is drawing Suihua before he sees who it is, putting himself in front of Mianmian. He’s already on edge; people arriving from the sky doesn’t help.

“What are you doing here?” Jin Zixuan demands, foregoiing any attempts at courtesy.

“What did your father do to Wei Wuxian?” Jiang Cheng demands at the exact same time. 

“Are you here to help?” Mianmian rasps at the same time.

“Yes,” Jiang Yanli answers, stepping off of Sandu from behind Jiang Cheng. “We know A-Xian can’t have died through qi poisoning.”

Mianmian and Jin Zixuan exchange a look. 

“Here,” Mianmian says finally, taking a talisman from her bloody belt. “I don’t know where this goes, but it should take you to Wei Wuxian.”

Lan Wangji immediately steps forward to take it, but is stopped with a word.

“Wait,” Lan Xichen says. “We should split up.”

“Agreed,” Nie Mingjue says. “Xichen and I will go to confront Sect Leader Jin.”

“I will go get Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng says instantly.

“I will find Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says at the same time, and they glare at each other.

“I’ll go with them,” Wen Qing volunteers. “I’m sure he needs medical attention.”

“I will go with Sect Leader Nie and Sect Leader Lan,” Jiang Yanli says. “To represent Yunmeng Jiang.”

“What,” Jiang Cheng says, when they all look at him. “She doesn’t need my approval. I approve of everything she does.”

Nobody bothers mentioning that he hadn’t wanted her to come. Wen Qing hadn’t wanted Wen Ning to come either, but the only one who stayed behind was Nie Huaisang, content to enjoy Lotus Pier’s hospitality and hope everything turns out well.

“I’m going with jiejie,” Wen Ning puts in, and Wen Qing sighs, but doesn’t protest. 

The four of them–Jiang Cheng, Lan Wangji, and the two Wens–take the talisman from Mianmian. 

“You need medical attention,” Wen Qing says.

Mianmian shakes her head. “Save it. It’s only a stab wound. I’ll be fine.”

Wen Qing raises an eyebrow, but the teleportation talisman activates, and all four of them disappear. 

In the silence that follows, the two sect leaders and Lady Jiang stare at Jin Zixuan, who looks at Jiang Yanli, turns bright red, and looks away. 

“I,” Jin Zixuan manages. “I’m. Sorry. I’m sorry.” He clears his throat. “L-lady Jiang. I owe you the deepest apologies, and I. F-for my father.” Jin Zixuan bows deeply, nearly doubled over. “I am sorry.”

When he straightens, he makes eye contact with Jiang Yanli, and he thinks he might see forgiveness in her eyes. This is not how he wanted to introduce her to the lotus pond.

“I understand,” Nie Mingjue says, and Lan Xichen inclines his head. It occurs to Jin Zixuan that he might be joining them as sect leader quite soon.

“Thank you,” Jin Zixuan manages, bowing again. 

When he looks up again, the three of them are gone.

It’s a beautiful fall day in Lanling, and sunset spills over the golden and rust-colored trees. The clouds above are lit from the side with pink and red light. Leaves drift lightly down to the ground whenever a breeze blows through the forest. 

“Is he dead yet?” Su She calls. He’s sick and tired of sealing Wei Wuxian’s qi over and over, and it’s clear that the man would rather die than give Jin Guangshan what he wants. He will die rather than give the sect leader what he wants.

The two Jin disciples lean over the edge of the pit. “I don’t know,” one of them calls back. 

Su She rolls his eyes. “Well,” he begins, and then he can no longer speak. 

Red hot pain bursts across his lower abdomen, and he’s shoved to the ground. He lands on his side and flops onto his back, guqin banging his shins. 

Then Bichen withdraws from his gut, and he lets out an unholy shriek. Su She stares up into the murderous face of Hanguang-jun, and has time to think not you before the purple lightning whip lashes around his throat and snaps his neck.

Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji move forward in eerie unison, descending like vengeful beasts upon the two Jin guards who turn at the shriek Su She lets out. Sandu and Bichen do away with them quickly, and the two Jins are thrown into the trees, while the two Wens come running up behind them. 

They’ve already mounted their swords and are descending down the pit by the time Wen Ning and Wen Qing reach the edge. Jiang Cheng snakes one arm under Wei Wuxian’s armpit, and Lan Wangji does the same on the other side. Then the two of them launch into the sky, leaving behind the corpses for someone else to take care of. 

They set Wei Wuxian on his feet, but his knees buckle before they even let go. Wei Wuxian collapses to the ground, shaking and shivering from head to toe. Wen Qing kneels by his side, but it’s Lan Wangji who throws himself to the ground after him, so uncharacteristically Lan Wangji. He grabs the cloth in Wei Wuxian’s mouth and yanks it out. 

There’s a low humming sound coming from the back of Wei Wuxian’s throat, but his eyes are unfocused and glassy. Wen Qing and Wen Ning make short work of the cable around his arms, while Jiang Cheng stands there, uncoiling and recoiling Zidian. 

Lan Wangji presses one hand against Wei Ying’s cheek. It’s terribly cold. There’s drool and spit and blood trailing from Wei Ying’s mouth, and his silver eyes still haven’t seemed to taken in anyone or anything. His chest shudders, and his breathing is dangerously uneven. 

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji begs, one elbow on either side of Wei Ying like he crawled out of the pit with him. “Wei Ying.” His voice cracks. “I meant to tell you. The song is for you. It’s always been for you. Wei Ying. Please. Please.”

“Hanguang-jun, could you please move aside,” Wen Qing says, but Lan Wangji isn’t listening to anything but his own heart. 

“The song is for you,” Lan Wangji repeats. He reaches for Wei Ying’s ice-cold hands, cradles them in his own. “Wei Ying, the song is for you.” He lets go of Wei Ying’s hands to cradle Wei Ying’s face in his hands instead. “I am sorry,” he begs, and he could be apologizing for anything in the world right now, so long as it brings Wei Ying back to him. “Please, you cannot leave. I will go to Lotus Pier with you. Wei Ying, please. Do not leave me like this.” And he leans down, and swiftly presses a kiss to Wei Ying’s left cheek.

Wei Ying blinks. “L’n Zh’n,” he says, through cracked lips, and reaches one trembling hand up to grab Lan Wangji’s robes in a fist and pull him down. It’s barely a tug, but Lan Wangji goes down easily. Their lips miss once, twice. It’s sloppy and messy and desperate when they finally kiss, and they bump their noses together, and Lan Wangji presses his forehead against Wei Ying’s, and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You should’ve said,” Wei Ying rasps, his voice little more than a whisper. But Lan Wangji is so close they’re nearly breathing down each other’s throats, and he hears every word. “You should’ve said.” And he pulls Lan Wangji down again with one light press to his cheek.

“Oh, fuck me,” Jiang Cheng says, and looks up at the sky.

They find Jin Guangshan in the grandest hall in Koi Tower with two girls in his lap. Jin Guangyao waits obediently at his side, smile fixed in place as Jin Zixun walks in.

Jin Zixun has returned from a night hunt, and he gestures widely with his hunting bow when the two sect leaders and Lady Jiang announce their arrival when Nie Mingjue kicks down the doors. 

Jin Guangshan startles at the sudden arrival, but quickly collects himself. Jin Guangyao looks anywhere but his two sworn brothers. “Excuse me?” The sect leader says. “What is this? Have the esteemed cultivators forgotten common courtesy in announcing their arrival?”

Nie Mingjue snorts loudly. “Does Sect Leader Jin have anything to say for Wei Wuxian’s death?”

Jin Guangshan snaps open a cream and gold fan. “A true tragedy,” he says. “Still, there is no reason for Sect Leader Nie and Sect Leader Lan to barge into someone else’s home.”

“It would be,” says a voice from the other side of the hall. All eyes swivel to the speaker. “If he had died,” Sect Leader Jiang finishes. He supports Wei Wuxian from one side, while Lan Wangji supports the other. The two Wen siblings stand behind them.

Jin Guangshan swallows. He looks from Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue to Jiang Cheng. The only Jin cultivators in this room are Jin Zixun and Jin Guangyao, since he lets no one but those he deems worthy into this hall. 

Jin Zixun drops his bow and quiver and reaches for his sword. “Do you want me to remove them, Uncle?” He asks loudly, and Jin Guangshan’s face turns red.

“I’d love to see you try,” Wei Wuxian rasps. 

“A-Yao!” Jin Guangshan snaps. “Do something!”

“Guangyao,” Wei Wuxian says tiredly. “Don’t bother.” 

Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji carry him further into the hall, and the Wens follow. Jin Zixun draws his sword and points it at them. “Stay back!” He blusters furiously. “You are not welcome in Koi Tower!”

Jin Guangyao hesitates with his hand wrapped around Hensheng’s hilt. “I,” he says, eyes darting around the room. “I–”

“A-Yao,” Lan Xichen says. “I understand the difficultly this situation has put you in–”

“Just kill him,” Nie Mingjue interrupts. “He’s attempted to murder Head Disciple Jiang–”

“I did no such thing!” Jin Guangshan protests.

“And he’s been torturing and killing people for his little experiements,” Wei Wuxian adds. “I only did that with Wens and corpses.”

Jin Guangyao steps away from his father, and Jin Guangshan’s face turns a lovely shade of puce. Faster than anyone expected, Jin Guangshan snaps his fan closed and snakes one hand out, fastening over Jin Guangyao’s wrist while qi gathers on his fingertips of his other hand.

But the girl in blue robes in his lap moves faster still, lunging across his body and shoving his arm off course. The qi blast decimates the wall instead, shattering one column entirely. Jin Guangshan’s head turns to snarl at the girl while his hand yanks Jin Guangyao forwards, close enough that he can rip Hensheng from his grip and swing it high above his head, and for a moment everyone thinks they’re about to see a girl get stabbed to death in Jin Guangshan’s lap. 

Then the hiss of a bow echoes through the room, and an arrow pierces Jin Guangshan’s sword hand, making him drop the sword. Wen Ning’s face is pure shock, but holds Jin Zixun’s bow steady and draws another arrow. Jin Guangshan cries out in pain, blood spurting down his hand, and Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue kill him at the exact same time, from opposite sides of his golden throne.

The girls scramble away from Sect Leader Jin. There’s blood splatter on their thin robes. 

“Nice shot,” Wei Wuxian says, and then his body finally gives up and collapses.

The winters in Lotus Pier are almost warmer than Gusu’s summers, which makes it the only time of year that both Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are used to the daily temperature. 

They sit in an open pavilion deep in Lotus Pier, two meters from each other and the Stygian Tiger Seal between them. Lan Wangji has his guqin in front of him, and Wei Wuxian has his flute. Together, they play a duet written by both of them for each other, and the resentful energy rises from the Seal. 

It’s terribly difficult, dispersing the demonic energies of the Stygian Tiger Seal, but Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji give it their all. Their notes intertwine and harmonize at every interval, neither of them missing a beat. But their intense focus wins out, and by the end of the song, the Stygian Tiger Seal is no more. 

Wei Wuxian sighs and lowers Chenqing. He flexes his wrists and smiles at Lan Wangji. “Glad that’s over with,” he says.

They’re both exhausted, but the last specter of the war is finally gone, and it has lifted an enormous weight off their chests. 

“I didn’t think we’d be done for another hour,” Wei Wuxian says. “Do you want to surprise the kids?”

Lan Wangji carefully puts his guqin away. “Mn,” he agrees. “If you are not too tired.”

The two of them rotate which sect they teach at every season, mostly because the Lan juniors begged and wailed and cried and Wang Xiuying shoved Zhanzhan in his arms and accusingly told him that he’d abandoned the bunnies, by which Wei Wuxian could only assume she meant herself and the other juniors. 

And well. Wei Wuxian wasn’t one to refuse if his help was so clearly wanted.

But the other reason they teach in Yunmeng during the winter is because Jiang Yanli returns to Lotus Pier every winter as well, and Lan Xichen wants no reason for Jiang Yanli to stay in the Cloud Recesses for a month, because he’s utterly terrified of her. Wei Wuxian still has no idea what she said to him, and at this point he doesn’t think he wants to know. 

Wei Wuxian slumps. “I guess Mianmian can handle them for the next hour.”

She can handle them for more than the next hour, but Wei Wuxian enjoys making fun of her teaching skills until she starts making fun of him for thinking she was Lan Zhan’s first crush. 

“I am tired,” Lan Wangji confesses.

Wei Wuxian smiles at him, because Lan Zhan says it like it’s some major confession, when Wei Wuxian can already tell. He tries not to make fun of Lan Zhan for his attempts at being more emotionally open, but sometimes they’re unbearable cute. 

“I bet I can get shije to make us soup,” Wei Wuxian says.

Lan Wangji opens his mouth to correct him, but Jiang Yanli herself beats him to it.

“Jiejie,” Jiang Yanli says gently, sweeping in through the pavilion on the right. In her arms she already carries two bowls of soup. “Only for you, didi.”

Wei Wuxian closes his mouth. “Jiejie is the best,” he says, just a little shaky. He still hasn’t thrown off decades of mentally correcting himself to shije, but he’s trying. 

Jiang Yanli smiles widely. “I know,” she says, and sets the bowls down in front of Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji. “Your son is giving A-Cheng a hard time again.”

“Excuse me,” Wei Wuxian says. “A-Yuan is the most perfect child, ever. He would never.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji says, at the same time. “Wei Yuan takes after his father.”

Wei Wuxian thinks through that for two long seconds, unsure whether he’s just been insulted. Lan Zhan would never, but Lan Zhan also would, just to mess with him. 

Jiang Yanli covers her mouth with one sleeve and giggles. “He does,” she agrees, because at some point they all just decided to pretend that Wei Yuan was biologically Wei Wuxian’s and Lan Wangji’s son, even though Wei Yuan still visits his extended family in Qinghe every couple of months and calls them aunts and uncles. 

Wei Wuxian thinks about acting offended, but some part of him can’t get over the fact that he’s sitting here with his favorite soup, being bullied by his older sister and his husband for encouraging his four-year-old son to bully Jiang Cheng. That’s the worst insult he’s heard all year, and if that’s the worst insult, then really, it’s alright. 

He’s alright.