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Lan Xichen always feels sick. His every thought and every step he takes is spiked with question after question: What does it mean to come home from a war? When your home has already burned down once, and all that you return to is charred and tinged with the scent of smoke? What does it mean to rebuild after war? To raise up the structures of the old world that had been lost to its flames? When it was the old world that had collapsed into a conflagration in the first place?

On and on they go.

They sink their claws into him in the night, dragging him into fitful dreams. There, he is stripped of his stature, a mere child staring up at Lan Sect elders who surround him in a semicircle, scrutinising him, with scrolls holding the 3000 Rules of the Lan Sect suspended from their hands.

“What do you do when this rule conflicts with this rule,” the Lan Sect elders rasp, pointing at the scrolls. No matter the dryness of his throat, or the tightness of his chest, or loudly he hears his heart is hammering in his ears, Lan Xichen always smiles with calmness that he does not feel before he answers. Every word he lets out only suffuses him with more fear that he might get the answer wrong, that he might prove himself too weak to mediate the moral ambiguities of the world beyond the Cloud Recesses — that he might pick the worst choice that sends his sect and all whom he cares about into ruin.

Beware, a voice whispers in his head, of weakness. The same weakness that overtook your mother —that caused her to kill your father’s teacher. That caused your father to lock your mother up in turn, so he retreated into seclusion abandoning his Sect.

That weakness that chokes you whenever you want to ask: why did your mother kill your father’s teacher? Why the Sect simply watch your parents’ torment in solitary confinement. You falter every time you stand before your parents’ door, your hand reaching out as though you dare to slide it open without permission. Yet you remain silent.

By the time he answers all the questions in his dreams, he’s stirred from his slumber by the sounds of Cloud Recesses rousing at dawn. Still lethargic, he steps out of his room. The voices that call out for him are more terrifying than that of the Lan Sect elders in his dreams.

“Zewu-jun,” a Lan Sect disciple inevitably goes. “How shall we deal with this?” They look at him. They see their saviour that shepherded forward from their Sect’s lowest point during the war. Though Lan Xichen feels small, uncertain, and far too young to this strange new world. The words he utters in response are always bestowed by these disciples with a horrific weight — like truths divined from heavens —to be spread to their compatriots as soon as possible as they scurry off. Lan Xichen fears one day that he gives the wrong answers, that his false words are used to form the cornerstone of some grand endeavour, which will eventually collapse because of him.

Weakness.

It is weakness that causes him to fuss over that one damned spot in his right sleeve that he cannot scrub out of one his Lan Sect robes, not without tearing it apart. It is weakness that causes him, on this day, to stray off his usual path as he is fixated upon that spot. He finds himself amidst one of the oldest parts of the Cloud Recesses, wrought of weathered stone, from which the rest of the Sect’s buildings had sprawled out from over the centuries. With his next step forward, the stones beneath his feet crack….

He falls. At least he has the grace to land on his feet, though he coughs at the dust kicked up by the rubble. Drawing his spiritual energy into his palm, Lan Xichen casts a pale light to see his surroundings. What he sees makes him retch.

Stacked wall to wall, and floor to ceiling — save for the tiny enclave he has fallen into, are desiccated corpses that wear the tattered robes of the Gusu Lan Sect. Even as his mind reels, Lan Xichen is able to roughly date his surroundings, from the markings on the ceilings and the style of the Lan Sect robes…...

These dead bodies would originate from the time of Lan Yi — the granddaughter of the founders of the Lan Sect. She was infamous for ruling the Lan Sect with an iron fist. It was she, after all, who had invented the vicious chord assassination technique. One moment Lan Yo could be sweetly plucking melodies on her guqin, and in the next she could send out her guqin strings to rip out the throat of an unguarded listener.

Historical records of their Sect had always debated just how many disciples of the Gusu Lan she had cut down to consolidate her power as the leader. The low ball numbers had placed it at most at ten or twenty. This number was that which was favoured in most histories of the Cloud Recesses — that wanted to perpetuate the narrative of the Gusu Lan as an essentially peace loving Sect.

These catacombs, however, would place the number of casualties of Lan Yi’s reign closer to the hundreds.

The fires set by the Wens that burned through the Cloud Recesses had likely weakened the structures that had kept this place hidden. Enough for Lan Xichen to fall through them. Lan Xichen gazes upwards to the light that seeps through the hole that he had fallen through, as the darkness pressing in from the sides.

This evil he’d uncovered was not of the Wens, but from within.

To rebuild the Cloud Recesses, would this mean patching this hole back up? Never letting the rest of the world know of just how dark the history of the Gusu Lan Sect is? Especially in this critical juncture of reconstruction after the war? Lan Xichen questions himself, his head spinning.

He leaps back out into the soft sunlight of the morning. But ashes stick to the sides of his mouth, and dust clings on to his hair.

Is there something so wrong with the foundations of the Gusu Lan Sect? That barely a generation after our founders started it, one of our own leaders committed such a massacre against our people?

And then secured the complicity of all the subsequent generations of leaders, who covered these atrocities up in conspiracies of silence? Until the victims of Lan Yi were all forgotten?

Is this corruption an irrevocable part of the Lan’s legacy, which I have taken into me? Like the streams I have drunk from and the air I have breathed from Cloud Recesses?

Lan Xichen forces himself to breathe evenly in deep breaths. Now was not the time for an existential breakdown. Not today. He had something to look forward to...didn’t he…?

At Koi Tower.

This thought strikes a note of levity within him. Today was that one glorious day he had bought — after setting a relentless pace. All to have one entire day to spend with A-Yao in Koi Tower. In his mind, an image of A-Yao’s amber eyes and bright, dimpled smile forms. He can already see his lips parting, and hear the lovely lilt of A-Yao’s voice. Already, A-Yao is so breathtaking in his imagination, seeing him in reality would surely revive his soul and spirit.

He briskly walks to the edge of the Cloud Recesses. Along the way, he passes his brother still sighing to the wind rushing into the cliffs (sighing forlornly at the state of the man whom he loves — Wei Wuxian. The pariah of cultivation society — the Yiling Laozu living with the remnants of the Qishan Wen around the Burial Mounds). Lan Xichen tries to give him an encouraging smile and a nod, to say to him that things will get better. Wangji stares at him blankly in turn.

Lan Xichen tries to ignore the twinge of guilt in his chest as he takes off on his sword, flying towards Koi Tower. His spirits soar higher and higher all as he nears his destination.

“Zewu-jun,” a servant calls out, waving at him from the ramparts of Koi Tower. “Please come quickly!”

Lan Xichen’s heart plummets, almost as quickly as he dives on his sword to her side.

“What’s wrong?” he asks the servant, whose eyes are wide with worry, her face flushed with panic.

“Your sworn brothers are having a vicious quarrel. I truly fear for our Jin Er-gongzi’s life.”

Lan Xichen thanks her with his warmest smile — especially at her respectful address of A-Yao. He speeds off in the direction that she pointed him towards. Sure enough, he soon hears shouting.

“You have acted like scum in managing the Jin household’s staff like this,” Mingjue roars.

“Please, Dage. It is not as if I have any other choice,” A-Yao patiently responds without batting an eye.

“Why are you quarrelling again,” Lan Xichen swoops down between them, holding his arms out to keep them apart. To his right, Mingjue is scowling. To his left, A-Yao is frowning.

That intrusive voice at the back of his mind starts up again. You should never have persuaded Mingjue and A-Yao to swear oaths of brotherhood. It was so selfish of you to expect them to get along simply because you get along with each of them on their own.

Not while both their worldviews of right and wrong are so different. You are always trying to mediate between the two of them and the ideals they stand for. But one day you will fail...

Mingjue roars, “Jin Guangshan sexually assaulted one of his maidservants. Our honourable sworn brother Jin Guangyao over here has decided to banish the maidservant off with a bribe! Without seeking to redress the injustice she faced at the hands of Jin Guangshan!”

“Dage! You’re really oversimplifying things,” A-Yao scoffs.

Unbidden, an image flashes across Lan Xichen’s mind —  of his mother confined in her rooms. One of the rumours of why she murdered his father’s teacher was that he had sexually assaulted her, but only she and not his father’s teacher could be punished…...

This flashback….

…….along with the imprint of the morning’s gruesome discovery…

…….the nails of nightmares scratching along his mind…….

…….the pinpricks of his intrusive thoughts disparaging himself……

…….perhaps the culmination of all these is why the following words spill out of his mouth:

“A-Yao, why can’t you just do the right thing?”

The moment he says it, he immediately knows that he is wrong. Jin Guangyao’s pupils are blown wide, as his lips fall open in shock. A smirk tugs at the corners of Nie Mingjue’s lips, as his eyes glimmer with triumph.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean that,” Lan Xichen desperately follows up. “You must have had your reasons.”

But what use is it? Taking his words back now would be like withdrawing one’s sword after it had already been run through someone’s chest…

A-Yao’s countenance crumples into that of dark despair. Before Lan Xichen can stop him, he’s turning around and running off.

“A-Yao,” Lan Xichen calls out.

“Just leave him be to reflect upon his actions,” Mingjue cuts him off, gripping his arm.

 “I didn’t mean what I said just now,” Lan Xichen tells Mingjue firmly, shaking Mingjue’s grip off.

The huff that accompanies the dry look on Mingjue’s face tells Lan Xichen that Mingjue does not believe him.

As expected of a master of subterfuge — it proves extremely hard for Lan Xichen to find where A-Yao has fled, even though he knows A-Yao cannot be far off.

Eventually he flies towards the gingko forest on the outskirts of Lanling, which appears on the horizon as a cloud of yellow. Peering closely through the canopies of the gingko trees, Lan Xichen finally spots A-Yao. He is a vision of gold and white in his Jin Sect robes, his amber eyes set off by the dappled sunlight and shadow falling upon his fair countenance, with his back arching against the deep brown of a tree trunk. The grounds around him are covered with the gold of gingko leaves.

Lan Xichen swoops down to be by A-Yao’s side, sending more gingko leaves spiralling down in as his feet touch the ground.

Before Lan Xichen can say a single word, A-Yao snaps his back straight to face him. The venom in A-Yao’s eyes stings, sending Lan Xichen stumbling a step back. Yet, A-Yao’s expression immediately softens at his reaction.

Then A-Yao throws his head back to laugh. “Sorry, Erge. I didn’t mean that either.”

A light breeze blows by, sending the raven locks of A-Yao’s hair before his guarded expression.

“No, I really deserved it,” Lan Xichen bows his head in shame. “I don’t know why I said those hurtful words to you. Not without asking for your point of view.” Not when I know that I am likely your only ally in this world of cultivation…...

Slowly, the tenseness seeps out of A-Yao.

“Please,” Lan Xichen gently asks A-Yao, “would you tell me your side of the story now?”

The corners of A-Yao’s lips pick up in a helpless smile, his dimples making an appearance. Truly he was winning A-Yao’s forgiveness far too easily.

“Thank you, Erge, for being willing to listen.” Now relaxed, A-Yao leans against the tree. Lan Xichen steps closer to him, to better catch the honeyed tones of A-Yao’s voice as he begins to speak.

“You see, even if I were to jeopardize my position in the Jin Sect, by helping Maiden Li sue for justice against my father for sexually assaulting her — she may not be better off.”

Lan Xichen nods encouragingly, to show that he is open to what A-Yao is saying.

“If she were to sue for justice, she would become the centre of focus of the cultivation world as she makes her case against my father. Whereupon she would be assailed by gossip and mockery. Or worse, high-born wives with unfaithful husbands might take their rage out on her. Or they might accuse her of tempting my father with her promiscuity.

She was subjected to my father’s unwanted attention — precisely because of her low social status — which makes it impossible for her to retaliate. When I asked her if she wanted to initiate court proceedings against my father, even she admitted that it was too steep a price for her to pay, and at most all she would get out of it is damages in terms of money paid to her by my father. So you see, Erge, public scrutiny without the protection of status would make her nothing but a target of public shaming. So unless we can raise her to an exalted position in society where others will judge my father rather than her, it is best to let her quietly return to her hometown with generous compensation, to try to recover…….after all, to this day even I cannot shed my reputation as the son of a whore. I dare not think how society might ostracise her if she came out with her allegations against my father.”

A-Yao’s amber eyes are troubled but his reasoning is sound and true. So Lan Xichen let’s it sink into his psyche, refracting all his understanding of the world through it, shackling his expectations with this new understanding of limits. He closes his eyes, pained.

“Ah, I see. I did not consider these factors.” Lan Xichen feels as though a thousand tonne stone has rolled onto his chest.

“Now that you have listened to my side of the story, I would like to listen to yours,” he hears A-Yao say. “Those words that spilled out from your mouth just now — “A-Yao why can’t you just do the right thing!” Where did they come from?”

Lan Xichen opens his eyes again. “I really didn’t mean those words,” Lan Xichen desperately insists.

A-Yao gives him a soft, sad look that still feels like he’s gazing into his soul. “Erge, I can recognise the expression you make, when you say what you truly feel, but wish you didn’t.

You are so good at hiding your feelings, I only ever catch slivers of your true thoughts in these moments where you betray great emotion. Now that today I have seen a flash of what lies behind the facade you put up, I find myself reluctant to step back and let this remain a mystery.”

A-Yao says these words with such tenderness……Lan Xichen shakes his head. “A-Yao, why are you so perceptive? Won’t you spare me just this once?”

A-Yao’s smile turns sly as he shakes his head.

Lan Xichen gracefully concedes defeat. “Those words I blurted out…..they were not so much directed at you. Rather, they were an expression of frustration at myself.”

A-Yao’s lips twist into a flummoxed frown. “Erge, you have always done the right thing whenever you could!”

“Have I? Truly? These days I cannot help but feel as though I am but a bystander, watching injustices unfold but unable to do anything.”

A-Yao gives him a sympathetic nod. This gives Lan Xichen the courage to continue.

“In the eyes of the world, I can do no wrong. I am the illustrious Zewu-jun with impeccable moral judgement. Yet because of my position as Sect leader, I can also do nothing that goes against my duty and the interests of my Sect. I cannot help but feel these days that I am defined simply by all the things I cannot do.”

“Erge, that simply is not true!” A-Yao, to his amusement, sounds outraged on his behalf, though it is Lan Xichen himself who is making these accusations.

“It is true,” Lan Xichen smiles with self-deprecation . “During the conference on what to do with the remains of the Qishan Wen Sect, I wanted to disagree with our Dage, Nie Mingjue. I didn’t agree with him that the Wens under Wen Qing’s leadership should be held culpable for Wen Ruohan’s deeds, simply because they did not stand up to him. Yet I did not act, when the world of cultivation decided to cast out Wei Wuxian and the Wen remnants in Yiling. I also do not think that Wei Wuxian deserves to be demonised to the extent he currently is…..and yet I have not spoken out strongly about this.”

“You are constrained by what you can do, bound by your duties as a Sect Leader,” A-Yao insists.

“I know,” Lan Xichen replies. Two words that he drives into his heart like daggers. His pain must show on his face somehow, because A-Yao winces.

“Or take your Dage for instance….Nie Mingjue…I know that his temper is getting worse. It’s propelled by the effects of cultivating with resentful energy. But also the shadow of those he has lost due to the deeds of the Wens…... But I do not know how to nudge him out of it, even as you and Huaisang are starting to bear the brunt of his anger.”

“It is not your responsibility, Lan Xichen, to make the people around you choose to do the right thing,” A-Yao says each word with a serious and fervent look in his eyes.

Lan Xichen shakes his head. “All my inaction — these are marks upon my conscience that I should carry with me.” He gazes deep into A-Yao’s eyes, searching for any sign of understanding.

Instead, he finds thousands and thousands of li of fondness, that stretches so infinitely in A-Yao’s deep amber eyes, that Lan Xichen tells himself that he must be imagining it.

“I don’t know why, A-Yao, you and so many others admire me. I am only ever able to see where people are coming from, but I am unable to influence them to return to the right path, especially when they resist. I don’t know how to help them do the right thing, or what the right thing even is.

So all the hurt and all the evil in this world….. These days it has started to feel a little inevitable…”

“Erge, I did not know you felt this way,” A-Yao breathes out. “I did not know you were so heavily burdened by these things…..”

Lan Xichen can’t help but let out a sigh of relief. He’s dropped his shell of righteousness before A-Yao. But not once has A-Yao flinched at how weak he appears without it.

Then again, should he have been surprised? He had met A-Yao while he was at his lowest — collapsed on the streets of Yunping while fleeing from Gusu. A-Yao had not judged back then either.

“Lan Xichen, you are so good and such a gentle soul. You shouldn’t have to make such hard choices all the time…you shouldn’t be put in these situations where you have to stain your conscience.”

A-Yao steps even closer to him now, adoration evident in his expression and actions. He can feel the warmth of A-Yao’s breath as he says the following words, “that is why this A-Yao will endeavour to resolve as many of these moral quandaries for you as possible. And I vow from hereon to keep my actions and intentions so just, that you will never be troubled by them.”

“A-Yao,” Lan Xichen gasps, “isn’t that impossible given the limitations of your situation.”

A-Yao gives a fond shake of his head.

“Anything for you, Erge.” It almost feels like a confession…...

Just standing there, staring at each other, it feels like they fit perfectly together like puzzle pieces. Though Lan Xichen tries not to dwell too much on what this means.

When the wind blows, before he can think better of it, he gently brushes away a strand of hair getting into A-Yao’s eyes. Then he spots something that makes him freeze. There is a splotch of black at the top of A-Yao’s forehead.

“A-Yao you’re injured,” Lan Xichen exclaims.

“Oh that bruise? Don’t worry, Erge. I simply accidentally hit my head while retrieving something from under a table.”

Lan Xichen doesn’t quite believe him, but A-Yao’s gives him a look that suggests that he would rather Lan Xichen not prod further. So Lan Xichen steps back, smiling at A-Yao as the leaves around him rustle, sounding like mocking laughter.

3 months later...

“Zewu-jun, welcome again to the Modao Institute!” Wei Wuxian throws open the door of his school, ushering him in energetically with a blinding grin.

Wei Wuxian looks almost as healthy and vivacious as he did before the war. His brightness makes it difficult for Lan Xichen to remember just how hunted and haunted he appeared just three months ago, while he was reviled as the Yiling Laozu.

Now, however, he is lauded as the pioneer of a new type of cultivation that has been game changing — especially for the smaller Sects that once struggled to recruit enough cultivators with well-formed golden cores. After all, demonic cultivation can be practiced even by those without cores.

 As they walked along the hallways, young students dressed in the Modao Institute’s black and crimson robes bow to Wei Wuxian and Lan Xichen. Lan Xichen bows respectfully in return. In contrast, Wei Wuxian bops his head back with a smile bursting across his face, sending his students into fits of giggles.

“Are you looking for Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian turns to Lan Xichen to ask. “Lan Zhan is sipping tea by the awning in the courtyard. He’s been really hard at work playing Cleansing for me and my disciples! Tell him when you see him that I give him a gold star for diligence!”

Lan Xichen smiles in return, though his mind is still racing to catch up to the lightning-quick smattering of words that Wei Wuxian is throwing at him. And what exactly is a gold star?

Then Wei Wuxian suddenly swivels around on his heel to face him. “Or is Zewu-jun looking for Lianfang-zun,” there is a mischievous glint to Wei Wuxian’s eye as he gives Lan Xichen a suggestive wink.

Disconcerted, but confused as to what Wei Wuxian might be implying, Lan Xichen nonetheless replies, “Yes indeed, I have come to visit A-Yao!”

 Then Lan Xichen wryly adds, “You can keep Wangji all to yourself for a little longer.”

“Come along then, I’ll take you to your A-Yao,” Wei Wuxian chirps.

However, it is A-Yao’s voice that Lan Xichen first hears echoing through the hallway.

“Xue Chengmei! Get back here, you rapscallion!”

Skidding out from a corner, popping out before them, is Xue Chengmei wearing a shit-eating grin. “Zewu-jun,” he exclaims in delight, as though his saviour had arrived. Immediately, he races behind Lan Xichen’s back, clinging to the slides of his robes.

“Well hello to you too, Xue Chengmei!” Lan Xichen turns around to laugh at Xue Chengmei.

That is when A-Yao slides out from the corner, hot on Xue Chengmei’s trail. His fury dissolves the moment his eyes land on Lan Xichen.

“Erge, you did not tell me you were coming to visit today!” A-Yao clasps his hands together to bow. Eagerly, Lan Xichen steps forward to restrain him from bowing further, relishing the intimate touch of their hands. “I wanted to surprise you!”

Dimples, Lan Xichen dreamily thinks, as he drinks in A-Yao’s radiant smile.

“I’ve also brought some treats for Xue Chengmei,” Lan Xichen says, turning around to address the Modao student. He pulls out a stick of tanghulu from his qiankun pouch. The luscious hawthorn berries glisten from within the pink sugar orbs. Xue Chengmei instantly seizes the stick of tanghulu.

“Congratulations on inventing not only corpse poisoning powder. But also corpse curing powder that can immunise people against turning into fierce corpses. All in a single month!” Lan Xichen tells the youth, who is stuffing himself with the tanghulu.

Wei Wuxian, his teacher in demonic cultivation, beams with pride. He ruffles Xue Chengmei’s hair affectionately. “Damn right. Good job, Xue Chengmei! At this rate you’ll surpass my legacy while I’m still alive and kicking!”

“Naturally! Soon you’ll be known not as the Yiling Laozu, but the Yiling Laotouzi!” Xue Yang snipes, earning him a good natured slap from Wei Wuxian, who exclaims “I’m not old!”

“Xue Chengmei, don’t eat too many sweets, or you’ll get a toothache!” A-Yao chides. Xue Chengmei only glows brighter at the heat in A-Yao’s voice. “I’m also not done scolding you for leaving your experiments out in the open like that. Don’t you know it's dangerous?”

Ah, Lan Xichen thinks. Xue Chengmei. What a lovely name! Lan Xichen adores how A-Yao had taken this delinquent from the fraught streets of Kuizhou, to give him not only a place in the Modao Institute, but also a courtesy name as part of the Jin Sect.

Xue Yang’s courtesy name was drawn from the Confucian proverb, junzi cheng ren zhi mei, bu cheng ren zhi e. Meaning: a noble man grants others the chances to become beautiful, but not the chances that corrupt them. Indeed, the name Chengmei means: Become Beautiful.

So every time A-Yao calls out Xue Chengmei, Lan Xichen’s heart warms. The way A-Yao says it — it is like a blessing he pronounces upon the youth, a prayer he delivers up to the heavens, and a vow he renews to give his all in helping him become beautiful! 

Lan Xichen knows that A-Yao sees himself in Xue Chengmei, in how they are both weary from the blows they have taken from their low social status. So A-Yao is always taking great pains to help Xue Chengmei overcome the anger and impulse control issues he developed while fending for himself on the streets. It was obvious in turn that Xue Chengmei looked up to A-Yao as a role model, and was constantly trying to impress him. It was why A-Yao was the only person Xue Chengmei was never disrespectful towards.

“Wen Qing has already warned him that he has too many cavities in his teeth,” A-Yao sighs, turning to Lan Xichen in exasperation. “I’ve already had to drag him all the way to Qishan to visit Sect Leader Wen twice, because he was complaining about having toothaches. It’s quite ridiculous, how the most gifted physician in the world and the new Sect leader of the Qishan Wen has become Chengmei’s dentist!”

Lan Xichen gives A-Yao a conspiratorial smile. “Well she has to. Wen Qing and her Sect owe you a lot.

It was you, after all, who somehow persuaded your father to push for amnesty to be granted to the remaining Wens who did not directly participate during the war. It was you who negotiated their return to their ancestral lands of Qishan.

Finally, you’ve saved the saviour of the Wens, Wei Wuxian, by rehabilitating demonic cultivation through opening the Modao Institute.”

A-Yao shrugs, as though these accomplishments were as simple as waving a hand.  

“I’ve also heard that you were instrumental to Sect Leader Wen’s studies in golden cores. Specifically, in formulating a poison that can melt golden cores.” Lan Xichen then cheekily passes A-Yao a stick of tanghulu, which A-Yao scoffs at in good humour.

“Good morning, Zewu-jun!” Another voice calls out. It is little Mo Xuanyu, the youngest disciple of the Modao Institute.

“Hello, A-Yu! I’m so happy to see you today!” Lan Xichen sing-songs, bending down to pull A-Yu into his embrace. The boy laughs.

When they part, the boy’s expression turns serious as he turns to his side. “Good morning, Yao-ge,” A-Yu bows to A-Yao who greets him in turn. Affection brims in both their eyes.

This was another relationship that he’d seen A-Yao forge over the past three months that warmed his heart immeasurably. A-Yu was another one of Jin Guangshan’s bastard sons. His mother was the daughter of a servant. After the two had been neglected by Jin Guangshan for years, A-Yao had taken A-Yu to the Modao Institute to learn the art of demonic cultivation. A-Yu’s studies in demonic cultivation were also supplemented with lessons on how to develop his golden core. Lan Xichen enjoys how A-Yao often acts more childishly around A-Yu, to encourage the serious boy to act more like a child in turn. A-Yao, like A-Yu, had to grow up far too quickly to deal with his abusive household situation. Through helping A-Yu rediscover his childhood innocence, A-Yao was slowly uncovering his own to Lan Xichen’s delight.

“What’s all the commotion,” a gentle voice chimes. It belongs to Xiao Xingchen, who soon joins them, his companion Song Zichen following behind him. A-Yao had been consulting the both of them with regards to the watchtower system. Specifically, how it could help those living in more remote areas — something the both of them had extensive experience with — as rogue cultivators who travelled where the presence of Sects were weak.

“Everyone is here simply to bask in my glory!” Xue Chengmei shamelessly proclaims. Xiao Xingchen conceals a laugh with his sleeve, as the lips of Song Zichen twitch.

The two had grown close to Xue Chengmei, whom they had taken with them on their travels to potential sites where the watchtowers could be built. Xue Chengmei was assigned to them to give advice on how demonic cultivation could be weaved into the services provided to the common people from these watchtowers. The two had grown increasingly indulgent of Xue Chengmei — who easily made Xiao Xingchen laugh, and who was on the brink of convincing Song Zichen of the feeling of bemusement.

The two rogue cultivators were passing Xue Chengmei sweets now, as A-Yao shoots Lan Xichen a look of long-suffering.

Then: “I want some sweets too!” It was little Wen Yuan, running up to Xiao Xingchen with his palms open. Wangji was naturally with him.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian practically swooned.

“Wei Ying,” Wangji fervently responded, practically a proclamation of eternal love.

Everyone in the hallway slowly backed away from the two, overcome by the intense feeling that they were third-wheeling.

Surrounded by love and laughter, Lan Xichen is giddy with happiness. What more could he want in the world?

As he turns to A-Yao to remark upon this to him, he spots something red marring the skin along A-Yao’s neck, with smudged powder around it.

“A-Yao, why is your neck scratched?” Lan Xichen asks.

A-Yao blinks. “Oh I accidentally scratched my neck too hard, after it had been bitten by an insect. Don’t worry about it, Erge.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” A-Yao says with a note of finality. So Lan Xichen falls silent, because he doesn’t want to push…...when A-Yao clearly doesn’t want to discuss it……

It is then that he realises that there is one person missing from this pretty picture at the Modao Institute…..

Nie Mingjue.

One fine day, Lan Xichen decides to pay a visit to Koi Tower. From afar, he spots a speck of gold rolling down the steps of Koi Tower. He races there with all his strength on his sword, as he realises that it is a person….and that there is one person in particular with an unfortunate affinity for being pushed down this flight of stairs…...

He arrives to see Mingjue glowering over A-Yao, who lies prone at the base of the stairs. There is blood dripping from A-Yao’s forehead, but a manic smile lighting up his face, as though welcoming the blade that Mingjue was bringing down upon him.

There is no time to think. He parries the blow from Baxia with Shuoyue.

“What happened this time,” Lan Xichen breathes, gazing into the seething resentment in Mingjue’s eyes.

A-Yao laughs, “nothing of note Erge! Thank you for your concern.”

“Don’t stand in my way,” Mingjue roars in Lan Xichen’s face, pressing Baxia down harder on Shuoyue. With a burst of strength, Lan Xichen throws Baxia off Shuoyue, sending Mingjue stumbling back.

“Mingjue, sheathe your saber first! Your mind is in turmoil,” Lan Xichen counsels, as he himself sheathes Shuoyue in good faith.

“I will not! I know what I’m doing. He’s beyond hope.” Mingjue waved his saber at A-Yao. “If this keeps going on, he’ll do the world harm for sure. The sooner he is killed, the sooner we can relax!”

Lan Xichen jolted in surprise. “Brother, what are you talking about? What wrong has A-Yao done?”

“Is it not obvious? His machinations are the cause of the revival of the Wens and their return to Qishan! Who knows what the Qishan Wen are plotting together with the Jin Sect?”

“Dage, my words do not hold such sway over my father! How could I, who is not even recognised as one of his heirs, convince him to reverse his policy towards the Wen Remnants?”

“You think I don’t know how conniving you are? You of all people would be able to do it.”

Then Mingjue turns back to Lan Xichen. “The next war is coming! And it will be more brutal this time, given that the corrupting influence of demonic cultivation has been spread through the Modao Institute! Which Meng Yao here helps his father to actively maintain.”

“Again, what in the world makes you think that I have a say over such matters. Whatever my father tells me to do, I have to do,” A-Yao snaps back.

Lan Xichen looks between his two sworn brothers. He decides to try for A-Yao a different tact.

“Mingjue…..the amnesty granted to the Wen Remnants to share their medicinal knowledge and the exploration of demonic cultivation are all these truly bad things?”

Mingjue’s eyes widened at his words, and A-Yao’s lips part in shock.

“血债血还 Xue Zhai Xue Huan. Debts of blood must be paid in blood,” Mingjue spits. “The Wen remnants stood passively as their leader plunged our world of cultivation into bloodshed. Should they not pay the price of being bystanders to their leader’s reign of terror?

This principle means just as much to them. If they are allowed to go unpunished, will they not gather the strength to seek vengeance, to make us pay the blood price for decimating their Sect? Won’t the invention of demonic cultivation make them more dangerous, especially considering how close the Yiling Laozu is to them?”

“Mingjue, these are possibilities, not a foregone conclusion...We ought to give the Wens a chance, and to see what good demonic cultivation can do, ” Lan Xichen urges.

“The Sect Leaders who came before us gave Wen Ruohan too many chances,” Mingjue spat. “Every chance they gave Wen Ruohan to turn over a new leaf instead gave him more time to build up his strength to attack us all. I remember how my father died…” here Mingjue glares again at A-Yao. “And I refuse to repeat his mistakes.

Mingue storms off. Lan Xichen wanted to go after him, but blood was still streaming from A-Yao’s forehead.

Now that A-Yao’s cap had fallen off, Lan Xichen could also see that other than the wound from the fall, there was also an old wound from before. A-Yao was now taking the bandages off this wound, to wipe away his blood before they dirtied his robes.

“Allow me……” Moving to A-Yao’s side, Lan Xichen took out a handkerchief. He wiped the blood away from A-Yao’s forehead with gentle steady hands, wincing whenever A-Yao winced from the wounds. Then Lan Xichen began to pass spiritual energy through his open wounds until they closed.

So they were left staring at each other.

“A-Yao,” Lan Xichen starts, “I don’t think I can ignore this any longer. You are getting hurt so often. You have been hurt by Nie Mingjue. You are also being hurt by members of your household……”

A-Yao parts his lips, probably to dispute that……

“I think you should leave Koi Tower. Come with me to the Cloud Recesses. We would give you the highest honours there, and you would not want for respect or recognition.”

A-Yao’s smile was radiant as he shook his head. “Thank you Erge for your concern. But I must stay in Koi Tower.”

Lan Xichen frowns, as A-Yao’s gaze grows distant.

“For me to be acknowledged by my father…..hope for that was what kept my mother alive through all those painful years — of being abused by her clients and of her agonising illness. It was what spurred her to teach me how to read, to write, and a little of how to fight. So to make all those days she spent count, I have to try my best to win recognition from my father, so that she may one day be remembered and honoured by the man whom she loved.”

Then A-Yao’s intense gaze focuses on Lan Xichen as he says, “just as I owe it to you to stay in Koi Tower. How else will I ensure that my fathers plans do not wear on your conscience.”

“A-Yao! You don’t have to. I would never ask this of you.” And neither would your mother, Lan Xichen thinks, though he does not quite know how to bring this up.

“I know,” A-Yao simply replies. “You would never ask me to. I don’t have to do this to keep your favour. But I choose to do this for you.”

Lan Xichen sighs. “Then at least let me take over playing Cleansing from Nie Mingjue.”

“Erge there really is no need. You can focus on rebuilding the Cloud Recesses as the Sect Leader. I can continue to play Cleansing for him”

“Aren’t you upset at how Mingjue has been losing his temper at you?”

A-Yao’s expression is so soft. “Anything for you, Erge,” he says with such sincerity…...

…..that a shiver runs down Lan Xichen’s spine. Suddenly, it is as if all the world has peeled away. It is only the two of them, gazing into each other’s eyes. All has gone still around them, though there is something tremblingly electrifying, in the way they take the others’ hands. What is happening between them — it is on the tip of Lan Xichen’s tongue — and if only he could say what it is, everything would snap into place and be imbued with a new meaning.

Instead, Lan Xichen etches the sight of A-Yao like this, his eyes dark with devotion, his cheekbones flush with the red rays of the setting sun, his hair and robes lifted up by the wind. A-Yao is so beautiful, it makes his heart ache. And A-Yao is all his.

But A-Yao’s wounds gape at him.

Not long after, as Lan Xichen is off in a remote mountain village to exterminate a vicious beast, he receives a messenger talisman from the Cloud Recesses.

It is one of those messenger talismans that are able to reach cultivators quickly, even from a distance. The drawback is that such messenger talismans cannot convey many words. Typically, they are only used for very short but urgent messages.

With a sense of foreboding building in his chest, Lan Xichen opens it up. In Wangji’s handwriting, it reads:

✦❘༻༺❘✦

Jin Guangyao is dead. Xue Chengmei is accused of murdering him using demonic cultivation. He will be executed by the Jin Sect in three days.

✦❘༻༺❘✦

This fic has been converted for free using AOYeet!