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Chapter Text

Nie Mingjue knew that spies were a necessity of life, even if he wished they weren’t.

Life, he often thought, would be much easier if you could just trust other people to be direct with you and they in turn trusted you to be direct with them, if you could resolve minor disputes with a spar to get out the energy and then some good conversation over some wine. Sadly, life just wasn’t like that.

So, like any good sect leader, Nie Mingjue had spies.

Usually, they sent reports through underground channels – there were many of them, enough to give him a headache trying to recall them all – but his spymaster had told him that in times of great need, one of the spies might decide that the news they had was so important that they would risk destroying their own cover and come in person. In such cases, Nie Mingjue knew that he had to let them in at once, no matter what else might be going on.

He did not know the spy currently in front of him except in portraiture, as the man had been put in place by Nie Mingjue’s father, but Nie Mingjue knew the signs of someone who had flown on a sword all night at top speed. He excused himself from all other obligations and took the man into the office with him at once, assuming the news was important.

It was.

“Are you certain about this?” Nie Mingjue asked, staring at the piece of paper he was doing his utmost best not to crumple in his fist.

The spy nodded.

“Thank you,” Nie Mingjue said. “Go get the doctors to look at you, some food, then rest. You won’t be returning to Qishan.”

The spy saluted with a deep bow, and then left.

Nie Mingjue took a deep breath, held it for a few heartbeats, and then exhaled. Then he summoned his war council and told them that Wen Ruohan was starting a war.

“He’s not ready yet,” one of his sect elders objected. “It may just be a ruse to get our guard up –”

“It is not,” Nie Mingjue said firmly. “It is happening. If this were just aimed at us, it would be one thing, but this move affects all the Great Sects. I want all the precautions we put in place activated at once: everyone inside the walls, the shields raised, and a purge conducted of all those we know or suspect to be spies.”

They seemed ready to argue, just as they’d always argued against all of his preparations, all of his precautions, against his desire for revenge against the man who had murdered his father, so he added, ”I have called you in here to inform you of my decision, not seek consultation. It is not up for debate.”

Hearing the determination in his voice, his sect elders did not argue. They bowed.

“In connection with alerting the other sects, I’ll go myself to Yunmeng,” Nie Mingjue said, shelving any feelings of relief that they had not opposed him and moving on to practicalities. “Jiang Fengmian is cautious and conservative; he won’t take anything other than a personal visit seriously enough.” He hesitated briefly, then firmed up his resolve. “I’m taking Huaisang with me.”

They all looked at the piece of paper laying innocently on his desk.

The list of names.

Of targets.

The list held the names of all their younger generation, the heirs of the Great Sects and a few other names – Wen Ruohan had given orders that they all be captured and brought to the Nightless City. If the capture were rendered impossible, his instructions were that they be killed rather than allowed to escape.

Killed. The heirs of the Great Sects!

“Yunmeng?” Nie Zonghui said, not opposing but merely seeking to confirm. “Not Gusu?”

The Gusu Lan were better allies of theirs than Yunmeng Jiang, but that was exactly why Nie Mingjue shook his head in denial. “I’ll give you my personal seal,” he told Nie Zonghui. “Lan Qiren was a friend of my father’s, and trusts me personally; moreover, he is very protective of his nephews. He will agree to our request even without my personal guarantee.”

Nods all around.

“What about Lanling?” one of the other elders asked. “Jin Guangshan is a closer ally to Qishan Wen than he is to us. His son is on the list, and yet…whether he will believe us…”

“The reports say that the Wen sect is dragging their feet on fulfilling their orders, confusing and dangerous as they are,” Nie Mingjue said. “That’s why I believe I can make it to Yunmeng in time. From Yunmeng, I’ll go in person to Lanling, making only one diversion to get this – Meng Yao person that’s ranked so highly on the list, though as a precaution we should send a disciple ahead to locate and hold him. As for Lanling…”

He bit his lower lip. He usually tried not to, especially not when he was pretending to be even half the sect leader his father had been – he was only three years into the role, only eighteen years old even if he was pretending to be twenty-one, and these elders had seen him grow up. The last thing he wanted was to project immaturity as he was making what was either best or worst decision of his life.

Still, a list like this..? He was sure the information was good, even if he had no idea what it was that had driven Wen Ruohan from his slow, cautious plans for domination that they could not stop even as they knew what he was doing, to change from that into this – this recklessness. 

The only way to counter a move like this was with recklessness of their own.

“Send someone to Lanling City,” he finally said. “Someone not formally affiliated with our sect. If the Wen sect drags their feet, that leaves a window open for someone else to make the attempt. A failed kidnapping attempt will make them raise their guard just in time to block any real attempt, and make my argument, when I arrive to present it, significantly more persuasive.”

They were silent for a moment. Finally, an elder said, “If Jin Guangshan ever finds out that we took this action, it would be catastrophic. Even if it ultimately turns out the list is correct.”

“I know,” Nie Mingjue said. “Nevertheless, that is my decision. Go.”

They bowed again, and went.

Nie Mingjue went to find Nie Huaisang.

“We’re going on a trip now,” he said, bundling his brother into a winter coat despite the warm fall weather – his brother was ten and nowhere near having the golden core he would need to develop to keep himself warm at the high altitudes they would be flying at. “It’ll be fun.”

It would not be fun.

He would have to fly at top speed, putting all his spiritual energy and concentration on that – there would be no sight-seeing, no playing around, only the cold and bitter air blowing into their faces.

But he didn’t dare leave his brother here, either. Not when Nie Huaisang’s name was on the list.

Not before they’d cleaned house.

They weren’t the only ones to use spies, after all.

“Where are we going?” Nie Huaisang said, eyes brightening at once. “Is there shopping there?”

“Amazing amounts of shopping,” Nie Mingjue said, thinking of the Lotus Pier’s busy dockyards and Lanling City’s shopping district. “I don’t know how much time we’ll have to actually go shopping, though.”

Nie Huaisang waved a hand like the spoiled young master he was. “It’s fine, da-ge,” he said loftily. “I can just keep track of where I want to visit later on.”

As long as there was a later on, Nie Mingjue would take Nie Huaisang anywhere he damn well liked, and let him empty half the treasury to boot.

“Deal,” he said, and drew Baxia.

Nie Huaisang’s eyes widened. “Wait, when you said we’re leaving now, you mean – now? Don’t we need to wait for whatever attendants are coming with us?”

“Get on the saber, Huaisang.”

Nie Huaisang got on the saber.

Nie Mingjue departed the Unclean Realm with no attendants but for his younger brother for the first time in his time as sect leader, and as he left he could feel the oppressive weight of the Nie sect’s magical shield come crashing down behind him, its prohibition even stricter than Gusu Lan’s with its required entrance tokens. Just as he’d arranged over a year ago now, the most trusted of his people would be calling in everyone for a review – all the Nie sect disciples, all the staff and servants, even their usual suppliers, anyone with access to the Unclean Realm. Everyone deemed even remotely suspicious would be temporarily removed from their post and placed under guard; once cleared, Nie sect disciples would be stationed among the common people to root out any leaks that might come from that direction.

The Unclean Realm would be cleansed of the taint of Qishan Wen, and all before the Nightless City would hear of it, cutting them off before they could break off their rash course of action in kidnapping the heirs.

As for the heirs themselves…

Nie Mingjue could only hope that he would make it in time.

Chapter Text

It all happened very suddenly.

Fall was still warm enough for them to go swimming, and so Wei Wuxian had proposed, and Jiang Cheng agreed, that they sneak off to one of the pools not far off from the Lotus Pier. They’d been going further and further away, bored of the same old haunts, looking for adventure – they were eleven, after all, and it was time to start putting that whole attempt the impossible motto stuff into action.

Even if all they were attempting was a secret swim by themselves, with no shidis to have to watch over and no shixiongs to babysit them, it was still worthwhile, and even if they hadn’t exactly been the most subtle about picking up lunch from the kitchens to take with them, Wei Wuxian’s Uncle Jiang had very indulgently pretended not to know what they were up to. Even Madame Yu pretended not to see them as they went out the back gate.

In other words, the whole thing was practically endorsed, although the lack of actual disclosure added a frisson of illicit excitement to it all.

The swimming itself was fine. There was nothing like a nice swim on a warm fall day.

But when they were still playing – splashing at each other and shouting fond insults, each one already mostly thinking about the lunch they’d brought with them even though they’d already eaten all their snacks earlier – a group of men had come walking by, one of them calling out a request for directions. Their accents suggested that they were strangers; naturally, Wei Wuxian had pulled himself out of the water and started providing them, with Jiang Cheng, never one to be left behind, slithering out to stand beside him.

The man smiled upon seeing them both, and Wei Wuxian hadn’t been halfway through the directions when he’d drawn his sword and lunged forward.

Jiang Cheng shrieked and grabbed at Wei Wuxian’s arm, trying to pull him out of the path of the sword, and Wei Wuxian had tried at the same moment to dodge, ideally towards a position that would let him stand in front of Jiang Cheng, who he assumed was the real target here.

Even as he moved, he knew he would be too slow.

The sword would strike him down, and then there would be no one to protect Jiang Cheng.

They were only eleven, Wei Wuxian thought, anguished, angered; only eleven, with their golden cores not yet formed, and the men in front of him were full adults, cultivators, attacking them with spiritual weapons. Even if by some miracle they escape the leader’s blade, there were all the others – they had also drawn their own blades, and there were seven of them. He thought desperately as to what he could do in the split second that he had left to him, thinking that while it probably wouldn’t work if he shoved Jiang Cheng back into the water, telling him to swim to safety and leave Wei Wuxian behind, that was the only thing Wei Wuxian could think of that might work. It would be worth it as long as he bought Jiang Cheng a chance, if he could win even a little extra time at the cost of his life…

He never had the chance to put his thoughts into action.

Before he could even see it, there was a loud sound, metal hitting metal, and suddenly there was a giant standing in front of them, the saber in his hand pressing aside the attacker’s sword. The giant was wielding the fierce saber one-handed, and with the other was holding a kid about their age under his arm, the way one would hold a sack of potatoes – the kid was wearing winter clothes, weirdly enough – but a moment later he all but threw the kid at the two of them and lunged forward, his saber rising up into attack position, and all the attackers’ expressions abruptly changed from smug to horrified.

A moment later the kid hit Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng both and they stumbled backwards, the three of them tangling together, and it took a few seconds for them to wiggle free of each other.

“Hi!” the strange kid chirped. “We should run!”

Swimming would actually be better than running, usually, but not while wearing winter clothing; there was a risk the kid – he seemed younger than them, smaller – could drown, weighed down by the wet and heavy fabric. So instead all three of them got to their feet and headed towards the forest as fast as they could.

Wei Wuxian looked over his shoulder just as they hit the treeline.

“Oh wow,” he said, and came to a stop.

“What are you doing, we need to – oh,” Jiang Cheng said, seeing the same thing he did: the giant’s beautiful swordsmanship, his saber strikes aggressive and fierce and clean as if he was simply practing the steps in a training ground, even though three of the attackers were already bleeding out on the ground. He was like a hurricane, furious and inexorable, and suddenly so many of the things Wei Wuxian’s swordsmanship teachers had tried to convey to him about moving like wind and water, forward and yet fluid, abruptly made sense, clicking in a brilliant moment of enlightenment that was only slightly ruined by the new kid reaching out and grabbing them both by the ears and snapping, “Behind the tree!”

They hid behind the tree.

One of the attackers tried to turn and run, but the giant threw his saber after him, guiding it with a hand sign, turned and threw a talisman at another one’s face, knocking him backwards, and used his shoulder to ward off a blow from the last one, stepping in close and just flat-out punching him in the face. It felt like it was no time at all before they were all lying on the ground, unmoving. Probably dead.

“You didn’t have to grab us like that,” Jiang Cheng grumbled at the kid, who didn’t seem impressed.

“You always watch from a safe location, or else you’ll distract the person fighting,” he responded, sounding like he was reciting by rote. Anyway, Wei Wuxian supposed that it was pretty fair statement. “I mean, what if they’d tried to come after us? Da-ge would’ve still beaten them, of course, but he might’ve gotten hurt in the process, and that would be awful.”

“He’s your da-ge?” Wei Wuxian asked, focusing on the important part. “He’s amazing.”

Jiang Cheng’s irritated expression softened – he’d been wowed by the fighting, too, no doubt – and he nodded furiously.

That appeased the kid, who preened. “Yeah, he’s my blood brother, and he’s the best,” he said. “You should’ve seen us on our way here. We flew here really fast.”

“And we’re going to have to continue onwards really fast,” the giant said, striding towards them with his saber still bloody, although he was pulling out a cleaning cloth already. “If they’ve already gotten here, they may have already reached Yunping, and we only had a single disciple there that we were able to contact…you’ll have to come with me there, and we’ll return here afterwards to talk to the sect leader.”

“My father?” Jiang Cheng said, alarmed. “Wait, where are we going?”

“You were targeted,” the giant said, and Wei Wuxian nodded, having already deduced that Jiang Cheng had been identified. “Both of you.”

He hadn’t expected that.

“There’s another target not far away, in Yunping. I planned to go there only after speaking with Sect Leader Jiang, but there’s no time. We have to go at once.” The giant paused, then rubbed his face. “Forgive me, I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Qinghe Nie’s Nie Mingjue; I’m the sect leader there.”

That made Wei Wuxian feel better at once: the clothing color, the saber, the name, it all matched up with Qinghe Nie, and they were another of the Great Sects, an ally. Plus, he had in fact just saved their lives.

“Okay,” he said, and elbowed Jiang Cheng when he looked about to disagree. “Let’s go save whoever it is in Yunping.”

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng finally agreed after another moment of thought. “I wouldn’t want anyone else to – yeah. Let’s go. Can we take our lunch?”

“Oooh, please,” the kid – another Nie, presumably – said. “Grab it and we’ll go.”

Nie Mingjue nodded and put down his saber, letting it float not far above the ground, and that was when Wei Wuxian realized that they would be flying to Yunping on a sword – well, a saber, anyway – instead of going by carriage or horse the way they usually did when they traveled.

Awesome.

His Uncle Jiang would take them flying sometimes, but only rarely, busy as he was. It was a great treat every time, but invariably too short; they’d never gone more than a few li and back, and definitely not as far as Yunping City.

“You can each have one of my layers,” the littler Nie kid, who still hadn’t introduced himself, said. “You’re going to need it. It gets cold up there!”

Chapter Text

Meng Yao wasn’t supposed to be for sale.

His mother had worked hard her whole life to make sure of it, refusing every offer for him no matter how tempting or how desperate their situation. He was a cultivator’s son, she told him, a sect leader’s; one day, he would return to his father’s side, and if he was going to do that, he couldn’t have his past be marred with scandal. He couldn’t have a slave contract, and he couldn’t have done any work as a whore – it was one thing to do odd jobs in a brothel, but another thing entirely to actually work on your back, and somehow, somehow, someone would find out, and he’d be ruined. They would know.

The only way for him to really make it is if he never did anything like that at all.

So when the cultivator – a real cultivator, from the looks of him, not one of the fakers they often got – walked into their brothel and asked for Meng Yao, his mother said no.

The man frowned, then turned to the owner of the brothel who shrugged, indicating that he was helpless. “The boy doesn’t belong to this establishment,” he said apologetically. “But if the venerated Immortal would prefer something more boyish, I can direct you to some of our more masculine girls, or to a neighboring establishment…”

His voice trailed off when the cultivator pulled out a large chunk of gold, about half the size of Meng Yao’s thumb.

“You can keep it all – if I get the boy, a room, and your word to tell no one else that either of us are here,” the man said.

“No!” Meng Shi exclaimed, but Meng Yao knew from the look on the brothel owner’s eyes that it was too late. This wasn’t a good brothel like the one they’d been in before – the one that had kicked them out when they decided his mother was too old and her health too poor – but a lower tier one, less rich and more desperate. A piece of gold like that was more money than all the girls put together would make in a year.

If they continued to refuse, the owner of the brothel would use force. There were the bully boys at the door – they would grab his mother and drag her away, grab him and throw him into the room, maybe tie him down, rob him of any ability to defend himself…

So Meng Yao put his hand on his mother’s arm. “It’s fine, Mother,” he said to her, hoping to offer comfort where there was none to be had, and then forced himself to smile at the cultivator. “How can this humble one best please the venerated Immortal?”

The man’s eyes flickered between them, and his frown deepened.

“The woman comes with us, same deal,” he told the owner, who nodded, eyes fixed on the gold, and never mind that both Meng Yao and his mother had now frozen in horror. There were women in the brothel who sometimes pretended to be sisters and might even be, it was a popular request by clients, but – his mother… “All right, where’s the room?”

“I’ll give you the best one in the house,” the owner said, tone fawning, and showed them the way.

By the time they were upstairs, Meng Yao was shaking like a leaf and his mother looked on the verge of weeping.

The moment the cultivator closed the door behind them, shooing the owner away, she threw herself onto the floor in front of him. “Venerated Immortal,” she said, begging, and Meng Yao averted his eyes, feeling rage build in the pit of his stomach. “Spare my son, please. I will do anything you wish –”

“You misunderstand,” the cultivator said stiffly. “Your son is safe – as are you. I’m not here for that sort of thing…boy, get her off the floor and seated somewhere, get her something to drink to calm her.”

Meng Yao got his mother into a chair, pressing some wine usually reserved for clients into her hand. By the time he was done with that, he was more puzzled than anything else, even the rage at his mother’s mistreatment fading away into confusion. “What does the venerated Immortal want?” he asked delicately, and the cultivator shrugged.

“I actually have no idea what I’m doing here,” he said frankly. “I received a message from my sect leader that told me to find and secure a ‘Meng Yao, son of Meng Shi’ from Yunping City, and when I asked around it led me to you. I was hoping you could tell me the reason.”

“Your sect leader asked for me?” Meng Yao asked blankly. “By name?”

Could it be – his mother had always said –

“You’re not from Lanling,” his mother said, wiping her eyes, expression back to fierce and calculating. “My boy is the son of the sect leader of Lanling Jin, not…”

She trailed off deliberately.

“Qinghe Nie,” the cultivator said automatically, and even folded his hands in front of him to salute – perfunctorily, but still more than most would bother with for a whore. “The message said only that you were in danger, and that I was to hide you until the sect leader could come pick you up himself.”

So it wasn’t his father, Meng Yao thought, disappointed, but still – a sect leader of a cultivation sect, knowing him by name? Sending a message from far away?

He had no idea what to think of it.

And so they waited, each one sitting awkwardly in their own place, as several shichen passed. It was already evening when there was a knock – at the window.

The window on the third floor.

The cultivator got up and opened it, and a large fierce-looking man carrying three children – one on each hip with an arm around them, and another seated on his shoulders, clutching to his hair like reins – wiggled his way through, shaking all the children off as if his arms were hurting the second his feet were on the ground.

“Is that him?” he asked, nodding at Meng Yao, and the cultivator nodded. “He’s young.”

“Thirteen,” Meng Yao said, and noted that it was probably older than any of the three children who were looking at him in fascination.

“One of Sect Leader Jin’s bastards, Sect Leader,” the cultivator reported, and Meng Yao felt something fall in the pit of his belly at the term one of. There were many like him, then – perhaps his mother’s optimism regarding his reception in Lanling City was as misplaced as her optimism in buying all those pointless cultivation manuals that he slaved over and which accomplished nothing.

“Well, that can’t be the reason, then, or the list would be thrice as long,” the sect leader said, frowning. “I’d even started wondering…no, it still makes no sense. Regardless, no point in waiting around here any longer – I saw two Wen patrols making their way through the city as I flew in, and I have no doubt they’ll find this place soon. We should be gone before they do.”

“If this humble one can ask, what is the honorable Sect Leader’s plans for my son?” Meng Shi asked, ducking her head demurely and looking up at him flirtatiously through her eyelashes, even as she leaned forward a little in a way that set off her shape to its best advantage.

“Oh no,” the sect leader said, and took two full steps backwards. Without the fierce expression on his face, he looked much younger – in fact, Meng Yao thought with wonder and maybe even a little disbelieving amusement, it seemed like this sect leader was most certainly still a teenager, and awkward with it, too. “No, I – I don’t – Gao Jianguo, do something!”

“She’s a whore, Sect Leader,” the cultivator said, rolling his eyes. “They flirt. It happens.”

The sect leader was bright red. The children were all giggling.

“Madame,” he said, bowing to her – an actual bow, respectful, not even the perfunctory dip the cultivator had given earlier, and he didn’t have to call her Madame, either. “Forgive me, I’m not…I don’t have much experience with women. My name is Nie Mingjue, sect leader of Qinghe Nie. I have reason to believe your son is in terrible danger if he remains here, and I intend to take him with me to a safe location.”

“What assurances do I have of his safety?” Meng Shi asked, and Meng Yao knew then that she intended to send him whether he wanted to go or not.

Not that he didn’t intend to go. Such an earnest sect leader, this ‘Nie Mingjue’…even if it was all a mistake or misunderstanding, which had to be what had happened, there were benefits that could be gotten here. If Meng Yao could become a servant there, learn cultivation, he could maybe save up enough to later go to his father’s side – no matter what they asked of him, it would be better than a brothel, especially one where the owner had already seen an indication of Meng Yao’s worth as chattel.

And yet…

“You have my word,” Nie Mingjue assured her.

“I won’t leave without her,” Meng Yao suddenly spoke up, and ignored his mother’s glare. He didn’t want to leave her here. He wouldn’t, not unless he was forced, which seemed likely, but he had to try his best. “If I’m in danger, then so is she. They might want to use her to lure me in.”

“That’s a good point,” Nie Mingjue said, which Meng Yao wasn’t expecting. He even nodded in approval at Meng Yao. “Very well, we’ll take you both with us. Gao Jianguo –”

“The amount I’ve already paid would be sufficient to cover any slave bond,” the cultivator said. His frown suggested he wasn’t happy about his sect leader’s actions. “There will be paperwork –”

“Only for me,” Meng Shi said quickly. “My son is free, and always has been.”

Nie Mingjue looked out the window, clearly calculating – two patrols, Meng Yao thought, this sect leader thought someone was hunting him down for some unknown reason – and then glanced at the two of them. He sighed a little, almost imperceptibly, before firming up his expression once more.

“Take Meng Shi and buy her bond,” he instructed the cultivator. “Collect anything she wants to take with her and take her back to Qinghe through safe routes. I’ll take Meng Yao with me and we’ll meet there.”

“What should I do with the ownership papers? There’s a tax for taking slaves out of the county, and people might notice –”

“Burn them,” Nie Mingjue said, and Meng Yao’s heart gave a sudden thrill of delight. “She can travel as a free woman. Make sure she sees a doctor, if she thinks she would benefit from seeing one, and cover the cost – I want her to arrive at the Unclean Realm alive and well.”

Alive and well, Meng Yao thought, even more delighted. That was a warning, no doubt about it – telling the cultivator not to take advantage of Meng Shi during his trip. And a doctor! With his sect leader ordering it, the cultivator would have to take her to a good one, not some phony sawbones, and she could finally get that cough of hers looked at…

Meng Yao would do whatever this sect leader wanted. Just for that.

(It was more than his father had ever done for them.)

“Can you handle flying with four boys?” the cultivator asked, frowning, and – flying? “Especially if you already came all the way from Qinghe, and through Yunmeng, you must be exhausted –”

“I’ll be fine,” Nie Mingjue said shortly. “He’s thirteen; he can stand on his own and hold onto me, arms around my waist, while I hold on to the others…hey, are you afraid of heights?”

That question was directed at Meng Yao.

“I don’t think so,” he replied, aiming for honest. It seemed to be what this sect leader appreciated, and Meng Yao was good at figuring out and catering to people’s likes. He’d have to exert himself especially this time. “But I’ve never gone higher than the fourth floor.”

“Well, you’re about to,” Nie Mingjue said, and his saber unsheathed itself and floated on the floor. “All right, everyone back on – you can introduce yourself in the air. We still have to make the ride back to the Lotus Pier, and I’m sure your parents are worried sick already, Jiang-gongzi.”

Chapter Text

Jiang Yanli wasn’t sure her parents had ever agreed on anything, ever, in her life, but they were in complete accord now that Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng were missing.

Admittedly, that was the only thing they agreed on – that they were missing, not dead, not dead – but it was a good start.

It had all started when that strange woman with the very ordinary face had arrived, she thought. It’d been late when she first arrived, after Jiang Yanli’s parents had stopped receiving audiences; they’d asked her to wait until morning and then got busy and didn’t receive her until nearly midday, even though the woman had been pacing around anxiously in the waiting hall. And then there was a whole lot of arguing before finally they sent out some disciples to go check –

The disciples returned, pale-faced, and reported on what they’d found: a pool with signs of swimming, a spilled but empty lunchbox, and the bodies of seven men, covered in cloaks to suggest an identity as rogue cultivators but wearing Wen sect insignia underneath.

No sign of Wei Wuxian or Jiang Cheng.

Everything had very quickly gone to shouting after that.

Jiang Yanli was worried, too, of course, but she was only thirteen and a poor cultivator besides, average in every respect – looks, skills, power – and no one ever listened to her; she knew she couldn’t do anything. She couldn’t give orders to go search with a solemn expression that she’d never before seen on her father’s face, eyes filled with panic and shoulders bowed with premature grief, the worst result already expected even as he denied the possibility of it; she couldn’t stalk around with so much rage that it felt like the onset of a thunderstorm like her mother, making sure that everyone was doing everything they could. She could only wait patiently by the gate to see if anyone came back.

Maybe it was her patience paying off, or maybe it was just luck, but she was the first one to see the cultivator arrive, late into the night. It wasn’t very ceremonious – he didn’t announce himself or anything, just swooped down with his saber until it was close to the ground, released the bundles he was holding in his arms, took a step forward and then collapsed onto his knees, face pale.

“Da-ge!” four voices shouted, distressed, and two of them were extremely familiar.

Jiang Yanli jumped to her feet and rushed forward, still disbelieving but overwhelmingly joyous. “A-Cheng! A-Xian!”

“Jiejie!” “Shijie!” they shouted, and she was so happy to see them, so happy, but they didn’t seem anywhere near as worried as she’d been; instead, they started talking at the same time. “You have to get someone, he’s used up too much spiritual energy –” “I can’t believe he carried us that far, and back, and after such a long trip, too –” “And a fight! Maybe he got injured?” “Impossible! But we should get a doctor just in case –” “Yes, and soup – shijie, can you make some –”

“Enough,” the cultivator rasped, lifting his hands to his face and rubbing it. He looked exhausted. “Thank you for your concern, all of you. I will see Sect Leader Jiang first.”

“It won’t make for much of a talk if you fall over!” one of the children she didn’t recognize said – the younger one, about her brothers’ ages, face full of baby fat. “Meng-gege, you’re older, tell him –”

The remaining child was about her age, if she had to guess, although he was short and looked gentle.

“Nie-gongzi is right,” he murmured – his accent sounded more Yunmeng than Qinghe, even if the oversized outer layer he was wearing looked more like Qinghe Nie than anything else. It probably belonged to the cultivator that had brought him, judging from the size. “You will not be able to make your case if you are unconscious.”

“I’m fine,” the cultivator insisted, and staggered up to his feet. “There’s no time, there’s still Lanling –”

There was no way this cultivator was flying all the way to Lanling.

“My parents will see you,” she interrupted. “They’ll be very happy to see A-Cheng and A-Xian are all right.”

They were, too, and Jiang Yanli assumed that only pride kept them from running over to grab them into an embrace – Jiang Cheng did run to their mother, and Wei Wuxian followed close behind to go beam at her father – but they were very puzzled to see the cultivator.

“Sect Leader Nie?” Jiang Yanli’s father said, and Jiang Yanli blinked: was that who her brothers’ savior was? “What are you doing here?”

“I received information,” he said. “Regarding the Wen sect –”

“We heard something similar,” Jiang Yanli’s mother said shortly, and glared at her husband.

“Unfortunately, we initially disregarded the warning of our spy,” he admitted. “And then we found the Wen sect cultivators’ bodies…your doing, I take it?”

Sect Leader Nie looked embarrassed for a moment, but then squared his shoulders. “Yes,” he said. “I was flying in to speak with you when I saw the attack taking place, and intervened.”

“They were coming at us with their swords!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed. “There was one right in front of my face, and then da-ge dropped down from the sky with his saber and – bam! Woosh! Urk!”

“Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Yanli’s mother snapped, though not as harshly as usual. It was almost long-suffering rather than cross. “Have some respect for Sect Leader Nie!”

“It’s fine,” Sect Leader Nie said. “I don’t mind. Are you prepared for invasion?”

“Invasion?” Jiang Yanli’s father said, frowning. “You think –”

“Wen Ruohan had given orders that the sect heirs of all the Great Sects be kidnapped or killed, not to mention your ward here and a few sundry others,” Sect Leader Nie said. “What is that if not a declaration of outright war? Surely he’d know that such a move, if successful, would lead to us all declaring war on him – he must have a next move planned out already.”

Jiang Yanli’s parents exchanged looks.

Sect Leader Nie pretended (badly) not to see it. “I’ve activated defenses in the Unclean Realm,” he said stiffly. “As you know, I’ve always thought…well. At any rate, we’ve made plenty of preparations, and they’re being put into action now. If it would be convenient, I was thinking of sheltering some of the targets there – I’ve already invited the Lan boys – and it would be no difficulty to have yours as well.”

He’d already assumed that they wouldn’t be prepared, Jiang Yanli thought, and saw her parents hear that unspoken message as well. He’d known they wouldn’t take the threat seriously and acted accordingly, and it was only due to his decisiveness that her brothers were still alive.

Her parents looked at each other again, gazes full of meaning.

“Very well,” Jiang Yanli’s father said after a long moment, voice heavy. “I will have to prevail upon your kindness, Sect Leader Nie.”

“Think nothing of it,” Sect Leader Nie said, and then frowned. “My concern is in regard to Lanling Jin...they have closer ties to Qishan Wen than either of us, and may discount the information, especially if it comes from me –”

“I’ll go,” Jiang Yanli’s mother said at once. “Madame Jin is my childhood friend. She will listen to me, provided it’s not already too late.”

Sect Leader Nie’s eyes flickered, but he didn’t say anything, just nodded. “He may as well come to the Unclean Realm as well,” he said. “Lanling City is large and Jinlin Tower spacious and luxurious, but there are many holes through which a snake might burrow.”

“I’ll bring him,” Jiang Yanli’s mother said. “Yanli can come with me.”

Jiang Yanli looked up, surprised. “Me?”

“You’re an heir, too,” her mother said. “You might not have been on the list, but you’re still at risk, especially if there’s going to be a war – greater risk, even. Anyway, Madame Jin will be more inclined to send her son to a safe place if she thought it was a way to build ties.”

The Jin sect heir was Jiang Yanli’s future fiancé. She supposed it was a good idea to meet him – and at least this way, she’d be going to the Unclean Realm with Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng, rather than staying behind.

“You should get something warm to wear,” Wei Wuxian advised her. “It’s cold when you fly!”

Jiang Yanli had developed her golden core just this year, right on schedule, so she doubted it, but she appreciated his consideration.

“Really cold,” the child in Nie sect colors said – the smaller one, since the older child, the Yunmeng one, was doing his best impression of a transparent plane of glass. “And we’ve been flying forever – we flew all night to get here from home, you know, and that was before da-ge fought seven Wen sect cultivators. And then we had to fly even more! Someone said something about soup. I want soup!”

“You should rest,” Jiang Yanli’s father said to Sect Leader Nie, abruptly sounding concerned. “Do you or any of yours require a doctor..?”

“Something to eat and some rest will be sufficient,” Sect Leader Nie said, which was probably a lie. “I’ll want to head out first thing in the morning, traveling by flight – I know it’s uncomfortable for the young ones, but I want to be back at my sect as soon as possible. You can send any additional luggage after us by horse.”

There was more talking then - mostly about how crazy Sect Leader Nie was to think he could make such a long flight with so many children, and, when he insisted, making him promise he’d take many breaks along the way - but luckily not much, and then there was saluting and Jiang Yanli was being swept away by her mother to go to Lanling City.

She knew it was wrong to be excited by the prospect of war, but she couldn’t help it. What an adventure!

Chapter Text

Lan Xichen had had an extremely weird day.

The beginning of the week had gone much as it always did – the daily routine of lessons and chores, classes and cultivation – and he had been helping his uncle with sect business, just basic copying or taking down dictation since he wasn’t old enough to do more than that. He’d thought the rest of the week would go just the same way, but then a messenger had arrived and his uncle had asked him to leave. It wasn’t that unusual, there was plenty of sect business his uncle didn’t care for him to know about yet, Lan Xichen being not quite yet fifteen, so he hadn’t thought much of it.

What was unusual was his uncle’s sudden tension afterwards, and the second messenger that arrived not long after, and his uncle’s abruptly announcement that Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji would be going to visit the Unclean Realm.

Lan Xichen had initially welcomed the news – he’d become friends with Nie Mingjue years before when the other boy had spent some time at the Cloud Recesses, and he’d always hoped to go pay a long visit in return, although that hope had been dashed when Nie Mingjue had been forced to become sect leader far too soon and it suddenly became inappropriate for him to spend so much time with a junior like Lan Xichen. But when his uncle told him to go pack and he realized that his uncle planned to send him right away…that was when he started to become alarmed.

He asked his uncle what the matter was, but his uncle refused to say, and so Lan Xichen had no idea why they had hurried so quickly to the Unclean Realm. He’d been asked to fly on his sword, and when he started faltering, one of the attending disciples allowed him to jump onto theirs to ride the rest of the way – they only rested a few times, at the mid-way points, and that was already pushing the boundaries of what they could do, even though they were all strong cultivators.  After all, of the Great Sects, Gusu was the furthest away from Qinghe; it wasn’t an easy trip to make.

He thought that he’d ask Nie Mingjue to explain when he arrived, but Nie Mingjue wasn’t there. But the Unclean Realm’s protective shield was up, which he’d never seen, and they were searched and interrogated for a long while before being allowed inside. And even once they were, they were shown to certain courtyards and told not to leave.

“Brother?” Lan Wangji asked, and the mere fact that he’d broken his habitual silence to inquire that much told of his anxiety at everything that had happened.

“I’ll figure it out,” Lan Xichen promised him.

Only he really couldn’t figure out what to do next, and then Nie Mingjue returned with a positive gaggle of children, his face pale and almost visibly at the point of total qi exhaustion, and it hadn’t seemed like a good time to interrupt. Lan Wangji ended up getting swept up by the chattering children his age – the Yunmeng Jiang heir, Jiang Cheng, as well as the Yunmeng Jiang ward, Wei Wuxian, plus Nie Huaisang – and not long thereafter they were joined by Jin Zixuan, who poor Lan Wangji had ended up clinging to as the only other person not talking faster than the flapping of a hummingbird’s wings.

Poor Lan Wangji, Lan Xichen thought; it wasn’t his fault that Wei Wuxian had fixated on him, seemingly thinking that teasing and bullying were the only way to make friends – they’d tussled three times so far, and Lan Wangji was constantly turning bright red with either fury or elation or both.

For his own part, Lan Xichen had tried to make friends with the boy that was closer to his age – Meng Yao, apparently – but Meng Yao just stared at him wide-eyed and stuttered a lot and seemed very awkward, although he had explained some of what was happening: that the Wen sect had ordered the kidnapping of sect heirs, that his name had been on a list (he didn’t know why he himself had been included, especially as none of the other Jin sect bastards had been), that all the sects were preparing for war…

It had been a relief when Jiang Yanli stopped shepherding the smaller children and joined them, if only because Lan Xichen could stop feeling like he was tormenting poor Meng Yao. Who wasn’t even a cultivator, although he expressed an interest in becoming one – Nie Mingjue had apparently said that he could join the Nie sect if he wanted.

“You should,” Lan Xichen said enthusiastically. “It’s a good sect – a bit, uh, martially inclined, but very righteous, very upright. They’re good people. If you don’t think you’d enjoy cultivating the saber, maybe you might prefer the Lan sect – you said you played the guqin? We cultivate music.”

His face was certainly pretty enough to pass through Lan sect regulations, Lan Xichen thought, although of course there were other requirements.

“You would be a good fit in either,” Jiang Yanli said encouragingly. “My Jiang sect isn’t taking on new disciples right now without a recommendation, but if you start with the Nie sect and find it doesn’t suit, I’m sure you’d be welcome in any sect you chose.”

“Except Lanling Jin?” Meng Yao said, giving them both a look as they blushed and stuttered and averted their eyes. “Neither of you recommended that one.”

“Lanling Jin is a very strong sect, very powerful,” Jiang Yanli said delicately. “And, uh…Lan-gongzi?”

“I can’t,” Lan Xichen said. “There are rules in the Lan sect about talking behind people’s backs, especially maliciously.”

“Well, I certainly can’t say anything! He’s my future father-in-law!”

“That bad?” Meng Yao asked, though he didn’t look as surprised as Lan Xichen might’ve thought.

“My brother says Sect Leader Jin’s a useless whoremonger who doesn’t think of anything but wine, women, and corruption,” Nie Huaisang piped up. Lan Xichen hadn’t even noticed him walking over; he would have tried to change the subject of conversation if he had – he remembered very well what a little demon Nie Huaisang could be, always stirring up trouble. “That he’s got more bastards than fingers and toes, and that the women he gets with child are lucky if he remembers to pay them for it, assuming they weren’t forced to begin with. You’re better off with us, Meng-gege!”

Meng Yao looked at Lan Xichen and Jiang Yanli, who both shrugged because there really wasn’t much to be said there, and then over at Jin Zixuan, who had trailed along after Nie Huaisang along with the rest of their little gang.

“My father’s not useless,” he said, looking uncomfortable even as he kept shooting fascinated glances at Meng Yao – who was his brother, actually, now that Lan Xichen thought about it, putting two and two together. Jin Zixuan had probably never met one of the infamous Jin bastards before; none of them had. They’d only heard about them in rumors. “And he does think of – other things. Sect business. Sometimes. That part’s wrong.”

Jin Zixuan was a good boy, Lan Xichen reflected. Far too good to be the son of a snake-tongued politician like Jin Guangshan.

“You should probably just pick another sect, though,” Jin Zixuan said, shifting from one foot to the other. “My mom – she doesn’t like – listen, she’s said some really awful things about what she’d do if any of the bastards ever actually showed up, okay? And I’m pretty sure my father agrees with her. He promised he’d throw them down the tower steps.”

“There are a lot of steps in Jinlin Tower. It’d break someone’s bones! Or neck!” Jiang Cheng objected.

“I think that’s the point,” Wei Wuxian muttered. “Meng-gege, you won’t go, will you?”

“I won’t,” Meng Yao assured him. “My mother’s coming here, so I have to be here at least until she arrives. And I think we’re all going to be here for a while, at least until the war is over.”

“That’s definitely the case,” Nie Mingjue said from the door. He looked a little better – someone must have given him spiritual energy and possibly a stimulant, possibly multiple stimpulants – though he still seemed very tired. Lan Xichen abruptly saw the point of all of his uncle’s exhortations against over-doing things. “You’re all welcome to stay for as long as this takes. I’ve cleansed the Unclean Realm of spies, as best as I can; this place is as safe as can be while you’re being targeted.”

“What about you, Mingjue-xiong?” Lan Xichen asked, anxious, because he knew, as few others did, that Nie Mingjue wasn’t nearly as old as people thought he was. “Will you have to fight?”

Nie Mingjue didn’t respond, which was affirmation. It was a stupid question to ask; Nie Mingjue was a sect leader, of course he’d have to fight. Fight the man who murdered his father only a few years before.

“I want to help,” Lan Xichen said, and Nie Mingjue frowned.

“Xichen –”

“I want to help,” Lan Xichen insisted. “Even if it’s just cutting up cloth to make bandages, or passing along messages, or something like that – I want to help.”

“I want to help too!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed. “Da-ge, you have to let us help.”

“I –”

“They’re our sects, too,” Jin Zixuan said quietly, and Lan Xichen saw Jiang Yanli smile at him.

Lan Xichen felt a moment of satisfaction at how they were all uniting, all acting together – and then, abruptly, dissatisfaction. “Why does Wei-gongzi get to call you da-ge?” he asked, indignant. “I’ve known you for longer!”

“It was convenient!” Nie Mingjue protested. “You can call me that too, if you like!”

“Not if you like,” Nie Huaisang said. “Everyone has to call da-ge, da-ge. You’re in the Unclean Realm now, and I make the rules here, and those are the rules!”

There was a small group discussion, after which it was generally agreed that it would be far too awkward to live together for days and days – amended to weeks and weeks after seeing the expression on Nie Mingjue’s face – while maintaining appropriate formalities, so everyone was going to call each other -gege, -jiejie, and -xiong, as appropriate, and of course that Nie Mingjue, as the eldest of their generation, would be called da-ge.

“Wen Xu’s older than me, actually,” Nie Mingjue mumbled. “Wen Qing, too, I think –”

“They don’t count, they’re Wen,” Jiang Cheng said. “The Wen sect is evil.”

“Wasn’t Wen Qing their doctor?” Jiang Yanli asked. “She was at the last discussion conference, presenting on some of her medial research. She was nice, I thought…?”

“She’s Dafan Wen, not Qishan Wen,” Lan Xichen explained. “They’re only technically a branch family of the main Qishan Wen – they split off a few generations back, but there was an accident and their parents died, so I think her and her younger brother got adopted as wards by Sect Leader Wen.”

“How unfortunate for her,” Meng Yao murmured, and they all looked at him. “I mean, if he’s as bad as you all say he is…”

“Was it an accident?” Jin Zixuan asked, and everyone looked at him. “What? Everyone says that she’s the most talented member of the younger generation of Wen sect – well, they say that when Sect Leader Wen isn’t around, anyway. It seems really convenient that the cousin who could’ve outshone the main branch got brought in so that all the accolades could go to him.”

“And we all know that Wen Ruohan likes to kill parents,” Nie Huaisang mumbled, kicking at the floor.

A moment later, as if by unanimous unspoken agreement, they all turned to look at Nie Mingjue expectantly.

“…she’s a Wen!” he protested a few moments later when he realized what they were getting at. “Even if the circumstances of her parents' death might be – suspicious – it’s still her bloodline; they share the same ancestors, they’re the same clan! She's not going to be a target - well, by them, anyway - though I suppose by the rest of us - and - and I don’t know what exactly you’d want me to do about it, anyway!”

Chapter Text

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mistress Wen,” the boy with the gentle smile who called himself Meng Yao said, bowing. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Wen Qing did not especially want to talk to – anyone,  really, but she really didn’t want to talk, least of all, to a boy some seven years her junior, from another sect with everything that entailed. But just over his shoulder, she could see that Wen Ning was smiling, his cheeks almost bulging with the force of it, as he spoke with the other children, making friends for the first time in his life, and she supposed it was in her best interest to make friends as well.

“I’m not planning on staying, you know,” she told him, just in case, and he nodded agreeably. “I’m a prisoner of war.”

A very comfortable prisoner of war. Who may or may not have put up very little fuss about getting captured when her supposedly secure carriage escort had gotten raided by the Nie sect, especially when their sect leader had recognized her by sight on first meeting and bowed politely instead of taking her head off at once as she might have expected. He’d even asked after her brother’s health – Wen Ruohan hadn’t done that once in the entire time she’d known him, and still less after he’d abruptly gone mad.

And he had, in fact, gone mad.

There was no other way to explain his behavior.

One day he’d been fine, scheming and vicious and narcissistic the way she’d always known he was but also cautious and thoughtful, set upon a slow and inexorable scheme of domination that would see him eventually claim all that he desired, and the next moment he was – very nearly unhinged. He saw himself as the rightful master of the cultivation world, just as he always had, except now it was as if he had had safely it in the palm of his hand and then had it snatched away from him, rather than anticipating a future prize to be eventually savored; he was frustrated and so, so angry, lashing out at all around him.

His sons had loved the idea of attacking the other sects – Wen Xu was old enough to plan out battles, the son of Sect Leader Wen’s previous wife, while Wen Chao, who was still young but old enough to tear off the limbs of small creatures, couldn’t wait to torment the children that had shown him up in achievements, stealing the accolades that he viewed as belonging to him.

They were still young, she’d told herself, and didn’t know better, could still be educated into something like kindness and compassion, but she’d also known that that wouldn’t help them if the other sects defeated theirs - that was the problem with war like this, where there was no room for mercy. What idiot would permit them to live long enough to seek vengeance for their clan?

What idiot would allow her and Wen Ning to live, assuming the same would be true for them?

As a result, Wen Qing had been much less enthusiastic about the whole project, although after her uncle had made an example of the few generals that dared to protest his decisions she was very quiet about her lack of enthusiasm. It didn’t mean she agreed with anything he was doing – that wasn’t new, she hadn’t agreed with anything he was doing for years now, but she’d gotten used to closing her eyes and shutting her ears, but nowadays it was much worse than before. He was acting as though he’d already finished all his carefully-laid plans – the ones he’d previously recognized were necessary as a foundation for the strike he would be ready to make in five or ten years, the one-shot-kill domination of the cultivation world – and nothing, seemingly, could be done to convince him otherwise.

Not even the risk to his precious sons.

The Fire Palace was full of new people, and new things, too, and if Wen Qing ever found out what sick, twisted mind had come up with those torture machines…

“Of course you’re a prisoner, Mistress Wen,” Meng Yao said smoothly. “I am merely acting as a prison guard. Would you like some lunch? Or a bath, or some rest…?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re not a servant,” she said. “Your clothing is too fine for that.”

“I’m a disciple of the Nie sect, a new one,” Meng Yao said, and she thought he almost sounded surprised about that. “That doesn’t mean that I can’t see to your comfort.”

Wen Qing looked again at Wen Ning, who was now being lured onto the training field and a bow pressed into his hand by excited youngsters. His cheeks were bright red, a sure sign that someone was complimenting him – probably the Wei boy, the Jiang sect’s ward, who was waving his hands around very enthusiastically as if he were trying to sell Wen Ning whole and entire, clothing and crown thrown in for free. The other children seemed just as enthusiastic, though, excluding perhaps the Lan sect’s second young master who mostly just looked harassed but continued to linger as if he were hoping for even more harassment.

It seemed…exhausting.

“A bath would be nice,” she said, giving in with a sigh and wishing, not for the first time, that she wasn’t one of the oldest of her generation. Wen Xu was older, yes, but he obviously wasn’t here, and most of the Nie sect that were her age would be away to war soon enough if they weren’t already. She foresaw a great deal of babysitting in her future. “And then, perhaps, a conversation with some relevant individual to pass along important battle information that I definitely wouldn’t have access to, being a humble and unimportant doctor?”

Meng Yao grinned at her.

“Oh, I think something like that can be arranged,” he said cheerfully. Probably more than he would be if he knew half the information she had to offer was completely insane – for example, her uncle had gotten terribly fixated on demonic cultivation of late, claiming that it would allow a single man to take down a battalion, except he had no idea how to make any of it work. She hoped he never figured it out. “The more the merrier here, Wen-jiejie, and I think we’re all of the opinion that the sooner this war is over, the better. Wouldn’t you say?”

“You’re not the only one who thinks so,” Wen Qing said tartly, not sure if she appreciated the intimacy or not. At least it boded well for her future survival, and Wen Ning’s... “Part of my uncle’s insanity has been his – quite frankly – ridiculous conviction that he needs to kill all of you specifically before you, and I quote, ‘threaten to shoot down the sun’.”

What madman would target the sun?

Maybe they should, though, she thought, and not as unwillingly as she’d always believed she’d be if it ever came down to it. Wen Ruohan might be her uncle, her patron, the one who pulled her up into the sky, and she’d always been resigned to the fact that if he was shot down, so would she; the knowledge had paralyzed her, forced her to be indifferent to his crimes. But the Nie sect was treating her as if she were still Dafan Wen, just different enough to be left out of the dirty water Qishan Wen was splashing all over her surname – through war, through domination, through the attempted kidnapping and murder of lots of innocent children...

Maybe it would be good for him to understand what it’s like to be made a target.

“I like that,” an unexpected voice behind her said – it was the Nie sect leader again, looking unusually boyish without his war-armor and with a smile on his face instead of a scowl. She abruptly wondered how old he was, and how much he’d suffered collaterally when it had been his father who’d been the target instead of her uncle; it hadn’t been something she’d thought much about before. “If there was ever a need to shoot the sun down, it’s now, with Wen Ruohan equating himself for it…it’s like aiming at kite flying in the sky that’s in desperate need of deflating. We could call the war the Sunshot Campaign.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Wen Qing couldn’t help but scoff. “What’s the likelihood that something like that catching on?”