Chapter Text
Emperor's Smile was a good wine as advertised, and Wei Wuxian lamented that he was pouring it to accompany his sullen mood.
The departure of his shixiong brought an inexplicable feeling of gloom. He had never been this far from home—oh, there had been trips to Mirror Lake Sect and Longyuan Valley once or twice a year but always with the company of either the senior or junior disciples or sometimes his fathers—and never alone like this, in almost what seemed to be the other end of the map and a place where it might as well be a different world.
He thought of the half-finished letters he would be sending back with his shixiong. The long-overdue one was for his shijie Xiaolian who in their last correspondence told him that she was expecting; it was only natural that he would suggest she took a character from his birth name. The shortest missive was for the juniors left at the Four Seasons Manor who had him promise that he would tell them of the cultivation world; their minder, Shu Feng, would read his letter to the juniors—who were yet to learn how to read on their own—as if their usual bedtime stories.
The longest letters were for a-die and baba, separated only because he doubted he could fit in his sentiments for them in a single letter. He kept their reminders at heart despite his initial complaints of their nagging; from his baba, most of all, who had hardly let him out of his sight and had prepared his favorite meals during supper in the last few weeks leading to his departure. Even his a-die had doubled his training regimen a month prior, a lot stricter and meticulous in gauging his progress, though Wei Wuxian had suspected that it had been his way to ascertain his readiness—and to spend more time with him.
Simply put, he missed his home and family already, right off his first evening in the Cloud Recesses. And to think that he had long been waiting for this moment to come, brimming with excitement for years at the prospect of delving into a world that seemingly came from a myth. He had been a child filled with wonder when told that he was originally a part of it too, that once he was of the right age he would return where his birth parents had lived.
And so far, he was... reserving his judgment in that front, so to speak.
Wei Wuxian let out a sigh. He was aware of being uncharacteristically despondent under such a pleasant evening of bright moon and a delectable wine at hand. The right company wouldn’t be so bad, and if his shixiong was amenable they might as well spend the night before his leave.
“Trespassing is forbidden in Cloud Recesses.”
It was the colors Wei Wuxian first registered: the shade of white that was almost reminiscent of his baba’s snowy hair; the soft hue of blue that was barely distinct in the dark but not so much under the moonlight, the color of his favorite robes as a boy because it was the first that he had worn at home; the long dark hair billowing in the breeze in sharp contrast with the white ribbon; the golden eyes that hinted a brewing righteous anger the longer Wei Wuxian stared without any response.
He blinked slowly, almost afraid of the night carrying away the illusion, and threw caution in the wind as the words tumbled out of his mouth.
“Not even to catch a glimpse of you?”
Not a mirage, he decided, not with the deepening frown he got in response. Wei Wuxian smiled invitingly, raising a toast to the direction of the Lan Disciple.
“Alcohol is prohibited.”
He savored the lingering tang, not moving from his spot at the roof as the disciple approached in warning. Wei Wuxian took out an empty cup and poured one for this chosen company. He received a reproachful stare for his trouble, and he gambled with a pout that he knew only his fathers could resist. “Not even to share it with me?” He was, quite expectedly, met with silence that had him shaking his head ruefully. “I toast to the moon on high. That’s two of us; my shadow makes it three.”
Wei Wuxian was of the belief that it must be the first time that someone had an objection to the emphasis of their ethereal grandeur, though it could be because he fell short on words to properly describe this young master’s beauty. Not that he was given the chance to convey his intentions.
He sidestepped from the obvious assault to his precious alcohol, deftly keeping it away from the flash of silver. Wei Wuxian clicked his tongue reprovingly. “Young master, if the selection is not to your liking, this one will get another and share it with you.” Unable to resist, he asked, "Will you await my swift return?"
“Leave and do not come back,” came the clipped reply that betrayed none of his growing irritation.
“Aiya, there appears to be a misunderstanding.” Wei Wuxian showed the jade token and mustered a bow as formal as his occupied hands allowed. “This one is called Wei Ying, courtesy name Wei Wuxian, who came to Cloud Recesses to study under the Lan Sect’s prodigious tutelage.”
Prodigious was in the vein of how his parents had described the Lan Sect in general. His fathers had been the one to personally explain his situation to the Lan Masters, after all, something which Wei Wuxian had sulked and grumbled over during last year’s spring when he had not been allowed to come with them. A respectable sect rooted in tradition, a-die had said; ascetic and a stickler for discipline, had come from baba, if that isn’t obvious yet with their 3,000 rules.
A bunch of hard-asses, they meant to say. It was as if they had known Wei Wuxian would have gripes with the somewhat stifling ways of the Lan Sect and had softened the blow and at the same time had given him a warning. It helped, he supposed, and while he was usually called tactless, let it not be said that he did not have his moments. He wasn’t a child and student of Wen Kexing for nothing.
At the display of abrupt politeness, the Lan Disciple seemed to ease a little, keeping a respectful distance and returning the gesture with an acknowledging nod—still miffed, however—before stating, “Venturing out at night and bribing an officer are prohibited.”
Wei Wuxian sighed. Calling this disciple a hard-ass would sound unseemly, especially when he deemed his comeliness warranted poetics. He took it back; it was all an illusion, and this display of ridiculous uptightness was the disappointing reality.
“This one asks to be forgiven for not knowing the rules. He is but an outsider who is unlearned of the ways of the Lan.” Wei Wuxian inclined his head, cognizant of how it highlighted his profile and the imploring gaze under thick lashes. “Perhaps if the young master is willing to teach this one...”
Later, he would vehemently claim that he meant no offense (truly!) with his words, but he couldn’t determine whether something slipped in his tone or it was a complete misinterpretation on the Lan Disciple’s end that earned him, and his jar, another strike which was honestly uncalled for.
Wei Wuxian dodged a well-aimed swipe at the wine as if it personally offended the Lan Disciple (it probably did) and kept to his own left side once he figured out the disciple’s dominant hand. He was light on his feet, his footwork firm and steady on top of uneven ground, and it was a mark of a good foundation that he supposed he should have expected from a disciple of a major sect.
The fluidity of his steps and the grace of his swings were an admittedly admirable display of internal balance, and Wei Wuxian had to discern any chink he could press. He twisted, chest against the elbow of the disciple’s right arm that held his sword, a masterful creation that suited its owner. Wei Wuxian leaned, his finger following the curve of the clothed forearm and to the peek of a wrist where a single touch told him of harmonious meridians that resonated with a powerful golden core. Impressive.
He drifted to the hilt of the blade. “Nice sword.” He winked.
“You—”
The Lan disciple pivoted, and Wei Wuxian crouched low from the hit that definitely wasn’t just to incapacitate. He leapt backward, a little captivated at the positively incensed look present that replaced the previously stoic expression. He had a suspicion that this one wasn’t often riled up, and wasn’t that such a regret when he looked nice when impassioned?
Still, Wei Wuxian had to pull back almost reluctantly. It wouldn’t do to antagonize someone way before he could even establish acquaintance with his peers. The last thing he wanted to reach his fathers’ and shixiong’s ears was him causing trouble less than a day since he stepped on the grounds of Cloud Recesses.
“I propose a deal with the young master,” he said, “A duel. If you win, then this one will submit to his punishment.” He smirked. “Any kind of punishment that the young master thinks befit this transgressor.
“And if I win, then the young master will consider the matter settled and this one will leave for the night… with the promise from the young master to share a jar of good wine with me next time, of course.”
Golden eyes narrowed. “Fighting without permission is prohibited.”
“What exactly is not prohibited here?” he asked dryly. “Alright, no duel. Hmm.” His eyes landed at the silk band tied at the young master’s forehead. “Keep me from taking that, then.”
Whatever protest or recitation of another rule broken that was about to escape the Lan Disciple was promptly cut off the second Wei Wuxian darted forward, as quick as a snap of fingers. To the disciple’s credit, his stance barely faltered, already on the defense.
Unfortunately for him, Wei Wuxian grew up playing this game with his senior brothers and sisters, and his favorite distraction for his junior siblings. He could picture himself in the Lan Disciple’s perspective, watching him in slow motion as he snatched the silk ribbon with a wicked, triumphant smile.
A top quality of silk with a pattern of clouds, and it glided against his palm like a touch of feather and carried a faint scent of sandalwood and incense. Wei Wuxian glanced at the frozen young master whose face remained blank as if still processing the quick succession of events, and, in a stroke of inspiration, brought the forehead ribbon to his lips.
“Wei Wuxian will treasure his reward,” he announced earnestly—and immediately retreated in a manner that he hoped was graceful enough for a hasty exit before the young master could recover from his state. “Until next time!”
Come midnight, his letters were finished, and the ones addressed to his fathers were marked with the recollection of the night’s encounter. A part of him dearly wished he could hear his baba’s chuckle and his a-die’s snort of amusement. No matter. He had half a year to gather anecdotes for them, and as far as he was concerned, it wouldn’t be the last time he would see of... of…
Huh.
Wei Wuxian frowned, thought hard, and scratched the back of his head.
Wait. What was his name again?
“Four Seasons Sect, take your bow.”
There were not so subtle whispers and murmurs that ensued the declaration, though most that Wei Wuxian could hear was confusion as to who and which sect it was. He stood straighter, making sure his posture exuded his pride for representing the name of his sect, his home. He fell into step next to his shixiong who spoke in a clear and equable voice.
“On behalf of Four Seasons Sect, Zhang Chengling pays respect to Master Lan. I present our disciple who is sent to learn under your guidance, and may he serve as a bridge between the jianghu and the cultivation world.”
“Wei Ying, courtesy name Wei Wuxian of Four Seasons Sect greets Teacher,” Wei Wuxian said, raising his voice amidst the growing incertitude that followed his and his senior’s words as they bowed in perfect synchrony.
“Your mother Cangse Sanren and father Wei Changze are lauded rogue cultivators,” Lan Qiren said, effectively silencing the incredulous mutterings at the distance and doubts at jianghu producing cultivators. “It is good to find their son hale after several years.”
“This one is fortunate to be taken under the care of Four Seasons Sect, to grow and be a part of them. At their behest, we present gifts to symbolize our aspirations for a fortuitous relationship between Gusu Lan Sect and the Four Seasons Sect.
“A sapling of rowan as a symbol of connection, to provide protection against malevolent beings, and to guide home those who are lost. Blackthorn for discipline and control that are the known cores of Lan Sect’s teaching, and also to symbolize overcoming obstacles and hope in the middle of devastation. The last sapling is from a tree that bears a multitude of blooms in varying colors and is native to the Four Seasons Sect where flowers bloom all year round, hence the name after our sect. These are dear treasures from the home I know, hoping for them to grow on the soil that my birth parents lived on.”
The tall man standing beside Lan Qiren, Lan Xichen—the Lan Sect heir, if Wei Wuxian was correct—smiled serenely. “The Lan Sect is grateful for the gifts, and we look forward to them growing in a year’s time. We’ve had the pleasure to meet Master Zhou and Zhen, and it shows in their disciples their virtue and great esteem as sect leaders.”
The mention of his baba’s birth name of Zhen Yan instead of Wen Kexing startled him, though he was certain that there was a valid reason for it. Chengling sent him a small smile that told him he did well, and a knowing look that promised an explanation later.
The welcoming atmosphere was suddenly heckled by a commotion from men in red and black barging in unannounced, the man in the lead sneering how easy it was to get into Cloud Recesses. Lan Xichen addressed him as a Wen, and from what Wei Wuxian gathered, the presence of the Wen Sect was uncommon, not to mention unwanted.
Coming from a sect that outright insulted Cloud Recesses’ lectures, the Wens were keen to send two of their disciples, related to the main branch, no less. Wei Wuxian was unable to contain his snort at the dramatics of it all.
“And who’s this scoundrel?”
Wei Wuxian turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “Scoundrel is too big a title for me,” he quipped, a rakish grin forming when he crossed his arms. “Four Seasons Sect, Wei Wuxian.”
“This boy dares to interrupt me.” The Wen gave him a scrutinizing glare before letting out a sharp bark of a derisive laugh. “I wasn’t aware that Gusu Lan accepts runts from no-name sects.”
“After all that boast of Wen education, I wasn’t aware that disrespect is what they teach you, but here we are.”
“Fine. I’ll teach you how Qishan Wen deals with those who don’t listen well.”
“Master Wen,” called Chengling placatingly. “This is a simple disagreement. There’s no need to be aggressive.”
The attempt to pacify the situation merely grated at the idiot. “And why should I listen to vermins who don’t know their place?!” Seething, the witless Wen jerked and his armed retinue immediately surrounded them, blades drawn and pointing not only at Chengling and Wei Wuxian but also towards others who had been watching the exchange warily. Chengling moved in front of Wei Wuxian, his hand on the hilt of his own sword and keeping him partly hidden for his hand to clutch his fan on the ready.
After a tense minute that felt as if it lasted an hour, soothing notes that he recognized from a xiao resounded, deceptively lulling if not for its effect of disarming the parties involved, the Wen Sect’s weapons clattering down in warning.
“Today is Cloud Recesses’ ceremonial day for taking new students,” Lan Xichen said, his volume never rising but firm. “We ask that Second Young Master Wen conduct himself.”
A woman who called herself Wen Qing stepped in a flourish, ultimately keeping the brittle moment of stillness with her tact. “This is my and my brother Wen Ning’s first time in the Cloud Recesses, and we know not of some of the rules. We hope Teacher Lan and Young Master Lan are forgiving.”
She bowed apologetically to Lan Qiren, Lan Xichen, and even at Chengling. Wei Wuxian, begrudgingly impressed, was under the impression that within the Wen Sect it was either you had modesty in spades or did not understand it at all.
The rest of the Wen retreated, though not without the Wen moron committing Wei Wuxian’s face to memory. Not that he cared a lick after that outright disrespect to his senior—he was willing to give that sneering face a healthy dose of beating next time if necessary.
He was struck with an insight related earlier when his father’s name was brought up. The name of Wen Kexing was never given, and after the distasteful encounter with the Wen Sect, he had a suspicion as to why.
Gripping his shixiong’s arm reassuringly when asked if he was alright, Wei Wuxian cast an assessing sweep across the room, restlessness blanketing pretty much everyone else from the sects present. These were inner disciples of their respective sects, so it was safe to assume that they were no stranger to this kind of behavior from the Wens.
Lan, Nie, Jiang, Jin, and Wen were prominent names in cultivation, and out of all the five, the last was the most dominant in terms of manpower and territory. Knowing how terrifyingly efficient his a-die was when it came to gathering information, Wei Wuxian had an adequate background when it came to the major sects, though he wished he had listened more if only to come up with a better approach from here on out.
He was starting to think that the advice of ‘have fun and make friends’ from his parents was a jest in poor taste. Sighing, his eyes landed on the familiar-looking disciple quietly observing him before his attention snapped elsewhere.
Lips unconsciously twitching into a smile, Wei Wuxian wondered if he was imagining the light pink dusting those pale ears.