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Chapter Text

"They lost their qilin."

Baoshen Xianren, Great Sage, Scholar and Cultivator, by the grace of Heaven Immortal Supervisor of the Kingdom of Yue, stared down at the report currently unrolled on her desk with incredulous disbelief. Five hundred years she'd held down her current post, ruling and caring for the land and the peoples that were assigned under her domain, and she'd never received a report quite like this.

"Wu Kingdom has lost their qilin," Baoshan Xianren said again. It bore repeating; she had hardly believed her own words the first time. "How do you lose   your qilin?"

Her wife, Lan Yi, sat on the daybed across the room, taking advantage of the sunbeam coming in through the long narrow window to brush out her hair. "Qilin are gifts granted by the Heavens to guide mankind on the righteous path through their selection of the kingdom's ruler, " she said. "If the population becomes careless and selfish, failing to properly revere and care for their qilin, is it any wonder that Heaven would abandon them?"

Baoshan Xianren shook her head in disbelief. "Dear heart, if that were what had happened I wouldn't find anything unusual about it," she replied. "I don't mean that their qilin has absconded. I mean that they lost it and don't know where it is."

Lan Yi frowned, setting aside her brush and twisting her long coils of hair back up into a quick updo so that she could rise from the settee and cross to her wife's desk. (The full process would take two attendants and three hours, so this was only meant to be a temporary hold.) "How is that possible?" she said.

Each of the Twelve Kingdoms had its qilin, issued by the Heavens for the wise and just governance of the land and people. The qilin chose that kingdom's xiandu according to the will of Heaven, and so long as they ruled justly, the xiandu shared in the immortality of their qilin. Only if the ruler strayed from the path of righteousness would their rulership falter; the qilin would sicken and, if the ruler did not correct their path or abdicate, die -- and with them died the immortality of the ruler.

It was not the only way a qilin could die. They did not age, and were immune to the poisons and diseases of the mortal world, but they could be hurt -- they could be killed. If such a tragedy occurred (or if the divine sickness took them,) then the kingdom would be rulerless, plunged into chaos until the qilin could be reborn on the central mountain. Once the new qilin came of age, tended by the strange supernatural attendants of the shrine, they would be drawn to select a new ruler from among the people of their kingdom. The rule of heaven would be restored, and the cycle would begin anew.

"You know that the Wu Kingdom's Xue clan has been making itself abominable for the past few years," Baoshan Xianren said, and Lan Yi's lovely mouth flattened into a grim line as she nodded. The former Lan sect leader knew all about   the Xue clan. "The old xiandu   and Wu- lin were killed in the struggle -- nearly the first casualties. Well, last year a new qilin cultivated on the branches of the Holy Tree, but before it could be properly born the Xue sent agents to steal the luǎn guǒ from the Tree."

Lan Yi gasped, her hand flying to clench at her chest at the temerity, the blasphemy, and Baoshen Xianren nodded grim confirmation. "Did they kill her, too?" she whispered.

"They're not sure if it's a her, this time. Too young to tell before the baby was stolen. And no," Baoshan Xianren said. "Apparently they had some idea of raising the young qilin under their own power, force it to select a king from among their clan when it came of age."

Lan Yi shook her head in disbelief. "The will of Heaven cannot be forced," she said. "It's been tried before. It never works."

"I know that, and you know that, but some smartasses over at the Xue apparently don't know that," Baoshan Xianren said with a shrug. "Well, the combined alliance of the other five cultivation clans weren't going to stand for that, of course. They formed an alliance -- they called themselves the Woodcutters -- conducted a counter-raid of their own and in the scuffle, the infant qilin was lost."

"Lost," Lan Yi repeated, in the exact same tone of disbelief. "How do you lose -- eurgh."

Baoshan Xianren couldn't help but chuckle, despite her frustration at the dire situation. "Exactly what I wanted to know," she said.

Lan Yi took a steadying breath. "And they're sure the infant qilin was not -- killed in the struggle?"

"No new luǎn guǒ has cultivated on the boughs of the Holy Tree since then," Baoshan Xianren said. "So either the baby's still alive somewhere, or Heaven has given up on the people of Wu Kingdom entirely."

Lan Yi's lovely features tightened in dismay, and Baoshan Xianren couldn't help but ache for her. Although her wife had not been back to the Wu Kingdom for over four hundred years -- and Baoshan Xianren knew that she had no further loyalty to the kingdom that had rejected her -- it was still painful for her to think of her homeland undergoing such suffering as the latest civil war and be able to do nothing to help. 

"Is there nothing we can do?" Lan Yi asked. Baoshan Xianren sighed, and laid her hand over her wife's.

"I can't imagine what we could   do," she said. "Not our kingdom, dear one, not our qilin."

"But without the protection of Heaven, the Wu kingdom will undergo terrible suffering," Lan Yi fretted. It was the natural progression of things, they both knew. Diseases, crop plagues, terrible storms, animals gone mad and yao   spawning out of control -- all the natural disasters that Heaven's protection normally kept at bay would run amok in a kingdom with no qilin and no xiandu . "We can't just allow that to happen. It's not like it won't cross over into our lands soon enough!"

"I know." Baoshan Xianren grimaced. It was already happening; the provinces closest to the Wu border were already dealing with an influx of refugees, and attacks of wild yao coming up through the forests or along the rivers were increasingly a problem. "But we can't just march in there and put the Xue in their place, much as I'd like to. We're strictly forbidden to interfere with other kingdom's internal affairs. Even if Wu Kingdom didn't raise objections -- and I can't see how they wouldn't -- every other kingdom would raise an outcry."

"The Xue might be outside of your authority," Lan Yi pointed out, "but the fate of qilin is a matter for Heaven, and as such a concern for all those who serve the will of Heaven! Even if the civil war isn't our business, finding that child surely is."

Baoshan Xianren sighed in exasperation. "And how, love, do you propose that we find the qilin without sticking our hands in the mill of their civil war?" she demanded.

Lan Yi met her gaze with a steely glare. Baoshan Xianren did dearly love her wife, but at times like this she wished she weren't quite   so obstinate. The same iron will that had allowed her to ascend as Sect Leader of the Lan Sect despite their backwards views of women as leaders -- at least until they'd cast her out, more fools they -- made her impossible to argue down once she was set on her course.

"It seems we are at a deadlock," Lan Yi sniffed. "Well. Obviously what we need is a tiebreaker."

"No we don't, because this subject isn't up for a vote," Baoshan Xianren protested, but her wife ignored her. 

Lan Yi rose from her seat next to Baoshan Xianren's desk and glided over to the door. "Xingchen," she called into the next room. "Xiao- qi,   could you kindly grace us with your guidance?"

"Not fair," Baoshan Xianren groaned, as her wife shot her a triumphant look. "You already know what he'll say. He has   to advocate whatever course of action will prevent the most suffering, it's literally in his nature."

"Well, if you won't listen to me," Lan Yi said primly, gliding back over to her settee, "then maybe you'll listen to the one whose job   is to provide you with heavenly guidance."

Their familiar, comfortable bickering was forestalled as a slight, luminous figure came to the doorway and ducked through it, stopping briefly at Baoshan Xianren's desk to bow before turning to greet Lan Yi as well. "Xiandu . Consort Lan," he said. "How may this one be of assistance?"

Lan Yi  took the lead now to fill in Xiao Xingchen on the latest news from Wu Kingdom. Despite her annoyance at Lan Yi going behind her back on this, Baoshan Xianren couldn't stay angry when her qilin stood in front of her. It was literally impossible, she was fairly sure, to have any kind of negative emotions in the presence of Xiao Xingchen. 

She would admit unabashedly to being biased -- he had been her dearest friend and companion for five hundred years now, after all -- but Baoshan Xianren was convinced that her kingdom's qilin was superior to any of the others. Not that she would ever say so to her fellow rulers, on the rare occasions they met up. It was entirely possible that each one of them   believed that their   qilin was the best. (But they were wrong.)

Today Xiao Xingchen wore his signature court outfit of grey and white, which complemented but could not outshine the lovely length of silver-white hair that flowed from his crown. That hair, even more than his inhuman beauty, marked him as a qilin -- not only as pale as starlight on snow, but actually casting a faint inhuman glow into the space around him.

But aside from his unearthly beauty, it was Xiao Xingchen's presence   that made it impossible to stay angry; his sweet nature, patient temper, and unfailing gentle wisdom. It was all part of being a qilin, Baoshan Xianren knew -- they were by temperament incapable of harming a living being, eternal advocates for compassion and mercy in all things. 

That was why they needed protectors and partners -- humans who could make the crueler decisions, loyal yao who could defend them against the ugly violence of this mortal world. That was why, Baoshan Xianren thought, she had to be cruel for him.

"So?" Lan Yi said as she finished up her explanation. (Much of which Xiao Xingchen already knew, as her adviser, but he had listened with careful attention all the same.) "What do you recommend?"

Xiao Xingchen clasped his hands and held them to his lips for a long moment. Baoshan Xianren waited patiently, Lan Yi fidgeting beside her. "I think we have a clear duty to intervene," he said at last.

Lan Yi punched the air in triumph while Baoshan Xianren rolled her eyes. "I told you he was going to say that," she muttered.

"You know me so well, xiandu," Xiao Xingchen said, inclining his head in her direction with a smile. Then the smile faded, replaced by a look of painfully earnest sincerity. "My heart aches for the people of Wu. It is true that if we can find the qilin of Wu we can help their people, and also help ours. But more than that, I fear for the child. I can hear the cries of the nu xian  from the sacred mountain, but they are beyond the reach of the caretakers. 

"My little brother or sister is out there, vulnerable and without defenders. Either they are in the power of people who wish to use them, to exploit them or --" his voice caught, broke and then steadied, "or else they are -- they are alone entirely, in a land overrun with catastrophe. Even human children are not spared when their parents can no longer shield them, and the child has no human parents to look out for them. Please, we must find them. We must help them."

With five hundred years of experience under her belt it was rare for Baoshan Xianren to feel shame; but she felt it now, along with the sting of sorrow that laced Xiao Xingchen's voice. Lan Yi's eyes brimmed with tears, and Baoshan Xianren sighed as she reached out and took her wife's hand in her own. "Very well," she said quietly. "We will heed the wisdom of Heaven."

After a moment of silence Xiao Xingchen offered, "Perhaps we could send out teams of people to search, discreetly?" he offered. "Your students are very capable, xiandu."

"They are," Baoshan Xianren agreed with a smile. "But I don't want to send too many -- that increases the likelihood that they would be caught, and if we are seen to meddle in the affairs of our neighbors, it will only make the situation worse. Two agents, no more."

Lan Yi smiled. "I think I know exactly who," she said.

Cangse Sanren was one of Baoshan Xianren's dearest students. In truth she had attained her mastery of cultivation years ago and could not truly be said to be a student any longer -- except for the bond of loyalty and trust that remained between student and master all their lives. Baoshan Xianren had many such students come to her, learn the Yue ways, and move on. 

But Cangse Sanren was special; there was a private part of Baoshan Xianren's mind that considered her more of a daughter than a disciple. She had a quick mind and a quicker laugh, and a fearlessness towards the world that bordered on recklessness at times. Fortunately, in the past few years she had been tempered by a partner of her own: Wei Changze, a native of Wu Kingdom who had fallen in love with the wandering cultivator and followed her back to Yue. Although her level of cultivation was higher, he was a formidable fighter in his own right and a steady, supportive presence in her life.

They made a good team. Furthermore, Wei Changze was a former member of the Yunmeng Jiang and Cangse Sanren had spent years studying at the Cloud Recesses in Gusu. Together, they had the greatest knowledge of their neighbors as anyone in Yue Kingdom today. It was this expertise that made them the best choice for this mission.

Baoshan Xianren gave them all the information they currently had to go on: the time and place where the infant qilin of Wu had been lost, their best guesses on how far they could have traveled, the means and motives of all the different factions that might be striving to take control of the child.

The Xue Sect were the primary suspects, of course; they had been the ones to slay the old xiandu and his Wu-lin, and they were the ones who had stolen the new qilin from the Heavenly Tree in the first place. But they could not leave the other Sects out of their calculations, either. The five smaller Sects had united in an alliance, the  qiáo fū zhī zhēng, against the aggression of the Xue. Lan Yi's birth clan; the Nie; the Wen; the Jin; and the Jiang Sect that Wei Changze had once belonged to had all joined together in one too-brief moment of unity before breaking apart into feuding factions once more. While none of them had displayed the naked greed and aggression of the Xue, it could not be denied that having a qilin in their control would be a powerful temptation. 

None of the worldly Sects could be allowed to have control over the qilin, no matter how fondly Baoshan Xianren's people remembered them. Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze's mission was to locate the baby qilin, hide them from the sight of any of the Sects, and return them safely to the Heavenly Mountain where they could be reared in peace until the time came that they could choose a new xiandu.

Finding one small child among the chaos was not going to be an easy task, made all the more difficult that none of them knew yet what the new qilin would look like. Wei Changze had once met the old Wu-lin, but there was no guarantee that the young qilin would look anything like her -- or even whether they would be male or female. 

Cangse Sanren had laughed at the difficulty. "How many silver-haired children of that age can there possibly be?" she had said.

Xiao Xingchen had only smiled. "Ah, it is true that myself and Wu-lin were silver-haired," he said, "but not all qilin are. Some have gold hair instead of silver; some are even red like fire. There are even histories that tell of the heiqi,   the black qilin, although one has not appeared in hundreds of years. 

"Further, the child may be disguised -- either hiding themselves on instinct, or forced into concealment by their captors. Certainly they would not wish their prize to be so easily recovered."

"So the child really could look like anything," Cangse Sanren said thoughtfully. "All right. How can we tell?"

"To those who are familiar with the qilin, the signs are unmistakable," Xiao Xingchen said. "They will refuse to take the life of another being, even a small animal like a rodent or an insect. As such, most mundane beasts will refuse to harm them in turn. There is a faint luminosity that matches the color of their coat in their true form. And the places that they step, or water where they bathe, become purified -- disease cannot flourish where a qilin comes down to drink.

"You should be on the lookout for any or all of these signs, but so that you can be sure, I will give you a talisman with some of my spiritual energy. It will resonate only with another qilin. If the child touches this talisman and it comes alight, then you will know that you have found them."

"And we can hope," Wei Changze murmured, "that such a thing will comfort the child, as well, to feel the presence of their own kind."

It took Xiao Xingchen several days and nights to prepare the talisman, carved from the wood of the tian mu, and imbue it with his own energy. The effort left him exhausted, and so he was not able to see Cangse Sanren and her husband off on their mission. The delay was just as well; it enabled the couple to prepare for their journey and make arrangements for their own affairs in their absence. "Just like a second honeymoon," Cangse Sanren laughed.

The two agents would be posing as rogue cultivators, hiding their affiliation; it was hoped that Wei Changze's old ties to the Jiang Sect would lend verisimilitude to their disguise. But it also meant that they would not be able to use most of the Yue kingdom's existing spy network, nor send reports back too frequently. This would be a long, dangerous, undercover mission. Baoshan Xianren sent them off stacked about with powerful talismans, enough money to buy a small palace, and her most fervent well wishes. The pair traveled to the border between the Wu and Yue kingdoms, crossed over, and disappeared from Baoshan Xianren's sight. 

That was the last they were to hear of the matter for the next thirteen years.

~tbc...

fusion/translation/worldbuilding notes

Putting here because the chapter notes doesn't have enough space for them.

Notes on translations and xiandu:

Every CQL author has to decide at some point what words they are going to translate, how they are going to translate them, and what words to leave untranslated. I usually come down on the side of translating everything except proper names, but for this fic I will leave xiandu untranslated, and here's why.

In Twelve Kingdoms,  the Heavens (by way of the kirin) choose a king. The society in focus in The Untamed  does not  have a king, nor (that we ever see) an emperor, but they do have one high position of authority, the xiandu. Xiandu  is most usually translated as Chief Cultivator, but it more literally translates to Heavenly/Immortal Supervisor/Boss. Heavenly! Immortal! That seems like a pretty direct analogue to a heavenly appointed immortal ruler.

The problem is that Immortal Supervisor   just doesn't sound... cool! I simply could not find a way to rephrase or translate the phrase that didn't sound like someone with whom you'd file your expense reports and put in for vacation time. Sorry. So, for the purposes of this fic, the kirin chooses the xiandu, which will remain untranslated, or more generically only be referred to as ruler.

The setting that this fic is crossing over with, Twelve Kingdoms, is an anime based on a series of Japanese light novels. There's a lot of world-building in it that is specific to that setting; I am not using all   of it (I had forgotten that the hanjyuu were even a thing until I went back to the wiki, and we're just going to throw the meishoku right out the window) but I am using a lot of worldbuilding and terminology specific to that series' conception of kirin. That means that a lot of these terms/concepts were made up in Japanese, then translated to English, and are now being retranslated back -- by my best approximation -- into Chinese. (If there are established Chinese terms for these things that Fuyumi Ono was referencing, I don't know 'em.) Here's what I've got for them:

Japanese -> English -> Chinese

kirin -> kirin -> qílín

kokki -> black kirin > hēi qí

youma -> monsters/demons -> yāo

shirei -> bound/loyal monster/demon -> mìnglìng guài

ranka -> eggfruit -> luǎn guǒ 

Houzan -> Sagebrush Mountain -> Péngshān

Houroukyuu -> Brush-Jar Shrine -> Péng Lú Gōng

nyousen -> sages -> nǚ xiān

shashinboku -> heavenly tree -> tiān mù

Yes, that does say eggfruit, it's a whole entire thing in the Twelve Kingdoms setting that babies come from trees. I'm not going to get into the details now, but for the purposes of this story, all you need to know is that qilin do in fact literally grow on trees, and that it is possible to steal them 'in the egg' before they're properly born.

The location for CQL/MDZS is not given a name and I do understand that's very much on purpose, but for the purposes of this   setting, the kingdom needs a name -- the kingdom names are important, since the identity of the kirin is tied to them. I eventually settled on Kingdom of Wu , where most of the story takes place, and the Kingdom of Yue , their next-door neighbors.

Kingdom of Wú - 无王国 (shares the same Wu as in Wei Wuxian's name, also can be read as 'the kingdom that has no name,' just like the MDZS setting)

Kingdom of Yuè - 岳王国 (Yue for mountain, as in Baoshan Sanren's mountain, also has a secondary meaning of 'in-laws,' as BSSR is related to our heroes by marriage)

In 12K, Kirin names are derived from their kingdom + their gender, with the -ki suffixed used for male kirin and -rin suffix used for female. I adapted that to be titles/honorific suffixes rather than names, since the characters we're working with already have names. So Xiao Xingchen, as the male qilin of the kingdom of Yue, is Yue-qi; and the female former qilin of Wu Kingdom was known as Wu-lin. Qilin characters might also be addressed by their name- qi.

The qilin belongs to a class of mythical animals known in Chinese as the Virtuous Beasts, along with a few others like the fenghuang (fire bird) and pixiu (winged guardian.) I adapted that class name,  -仁獸 (-renshou), as a respectful title/form of address for a kirin; it can be used either as a name suffix or as a form of address on its own. (I believe the ren   is the same one as in Lan Qiren's name, the ren   for moral goodness and inner righteousness.) 

Finally, I hemmed and hawed a bit over Baoshan Sanren's name in the prologue. According to my best understanding, 'Sanren' is 100% a title and not   a personal name; as BSSR is not in any way a wandering cultivator or a lone hermit in this setting, then the 'Sanren' title simply can't be used to refer to her. (It can still apply to Cangse Sanren, though, since she absolutely still is a wanderer.) So I gave her the more generic cultivator title Xianren. I have a suspicion that 'Baoshan' is itself also more of a title than a name -- She Who Embraces the Mountain? -- but I figured that since she is still living on a mountain, or rather a kingdom of mountains, she can keep that one.

All that said, welcome to the project that has devoured my fandom time and attention for the last six months, hah! This story was written for the MXTX Big Bang, in partnership with the lovely and inestimable Sixlayerhouse as the artist! You can see their illustrations for the fic here and here... or else just wait for them to pop up in the fic ;)

Things you can expect this fic to contain:

• Wei Wuxian's kind heart and devotion to noble ideals
• plenty of Yunmeng Sibs feels
• Lan Wangji being an enormous sap about Wei Ying
• ...and vice versa
• lots of qilin-specific worldbuilding
• the Qishan Wen being jerks to everybody else

This fic will NOT really contain:

• most of Wei Wuxian's darker side
• the Wen Remnants
• the juniors, including a-yuan -- you won't see Wangxian Dads here
• much of the Nie siblings
• the Jins, even as bad guys. I have plenty of the Jins and JGS being shitheads in other stories, I don't feel the need to surface that here as well. 
• much in the way of side pairings. There's some BSSR/Lan Yi in the prologue, Wei Wuxian's parents, and a bit of hinted-at Song Lan/Xiao Xingchen later on. But the fic really isn't going to focus on romance besides WangXian.

Since this work is a bit of a monster all being dropped at once: if you decide to read this fic, please occasionally take breaks to get water and maybe even sleep between some of these chapters! (And of course, if you feel like leaving your thoughts on each chapter along the way, that would be greatly appreciated! No need at all to wait till the end... ;)

Chapter Text

The first thing he remembered was the donkey. Strong hands lifting him onto the back of the donkey, rumbling words he couldn't, at the time, understand -- except that they were comforting, and the hands that adjusted his seat on the donkey's neck were kind. From this he could infer, when he thought back on it, that his mother and father were there -- but he mostly remembered the donkey. A scratchy hot seat below him, a wall of grey and brown hair ahead of him, and the bray that split the air.

He could infer, too, that the man and woman who traveled with him were his mother and father. That wasn't really something you were ever told, was it? It was something you just always knew. And it wasn't like he could remember a time before them, the laughing woman with the reddish hair that captured the setting rays of sun in its curls, the dark-skinned man with the quiet manner and the smile that he always wore when the man looked at his wife, at the donkey, or at him.

He didn't know their names. He learned them from others as they traveled; merchants who ruffled his hair and told him, "Such a fine boy, he takes after his father!" and innkeepers who checked them in and cooed, "Little man, you'll be good for your mama, right?" And so from this he concluded that the laughing woman was his mama, and the quiet man was his father, and they loved him, and he loved them.

There was never any doubt about that last. They made sure he had good things to eat, and wiped his mouth with a soft cloth, and lifted him up onto the donkey when he was tired and lifted him down to walk along the road when he was restless. They held his hand, one on each side, and his mama sang as they walked, and when they got to the chorus they would lift him up on either side and swing him in the air and make him laugh. They fed him from their bowls at inns in the evening, and tucked him into the little trundle bed at night, and father walked him to the toilet when he was scared to go by himself no matter how many times in a night he had to go.

They loved him. This he knew.

And other things he didn't know, things he had no way to compare, no reason to find it strange: that his parents turned aside on the road and went far out of their way to avoid people in the colors of the Xue Sect, or that the tasty treats and dumplings that they gave to him never, ever had meat or fish, even when their own food did. That the first toy they ever gave him -- a square wooden charm, carved with symbols he could not read, which lit up with a soft silver glow when he held it in both hands -- was in any way unusual.

If he had a name, he never knew it. Mama only ever called him Baby. "When you go to the market, be sure to get shoes for the baby," she would tell Father, or when purchasing a room at an inn, "Let's make sure to get a bath for Baby Wei." His father, as far as he could tell, never called him anything at all.

Sometimes they didn't stay in towns. He didn't know why, but he did learn that when there were too many men in black clothes in a building, his parents would turn around and leave. And if there were too many black men on the roads, his parents would lead the donkey out of town. On those nights they camped off the roads, and he would go to sleep listening to the crackling of the fire and his mother's low laugh while looking up at the stars through a canopy of leaves overhead.

Sometimes his father woke him up when it was still dark, and put him up on the donkey. Then they would play the quiet game as they moved across the fields and under the woods, while little specks of light bobbed like candle flames along the road.

He was riding the donkey, his head drooping towards his neck as he struggled to stay awake; his father's warm hand on his back kept him steady, and the steady pace of the hoofbeats lulled him even more towards sleep. The sky overhead was dark, with light over on the horizon -- before dawn or after dark, he wasn't sure.

He heard a sound from out in the dark, a low growling noise that seemed to send a chill right up his spine. All at once he was wide awake as the donkey jolted to a stop, trembling with fright, braying and prancing its hooves.

"Changze," his mother called softly, drawing her sword.

"I see it," his father replied, and drew his own. "Just one?"

"Mm-hmm." His mama advanced forward, sword held at the level of her eyes; his father stayed beside him, the donkey's reins in one hand and his sword in the other.

"Awfully bold, to attack two cultivators at full strength when it doesn't even have a pack," his father murmured.

"The temptation is too great, I suppose," Mama said. "Stay with the baby. I'll handle this one."

His mother held up her hand and it burst into light, as though the sun were up all of a sudden. But the light only threw the thing into deeper shadows -- a dark silhouette of an animal, a massive four-legged beast with ragged fur that let off smoke, long yellow teeth, and glowing red eyes that shifted and seethed.

He would have screamed, but he was frozen in place. The monster seemed to look right at him, pinning him with its bloody gaze, and it stalked forward without paying heed to either of his parents. The growl ebbed and flowed from its chest in an unsteady huh, huh, huh noise; they almost sounded like words, although they made no sense. A long tongue -- too long, too black -- snaked out to lick its muzzle before slithering back into its mouth.

His mama cried out -- not in pain or fear but a sound like a hawk's cry, and her steel flashed as she lunged smoothly forward. The monster leapt too, at the same time, and his father tensed and moved quickly to place himself between the donkey and the monster on the road, scrabbling to pull out a talisman with the hand still holding the donkey's reins.

It wasn't necessary. There was a terrifying scramble of energy and motion and flying black smoke -- and then a wet thunk, like a water jug falling to the ground, and a noise like the tearing of cloth. Then his mama was on the other side, sword flashing high, and the dark shadow stumbled a few steps before it tumbled to the ground and fell still.

The hot-metal smell hit him a moment later, and as soon as he smelled it he saw it everywhere -- sprayed in a wide arc across the ground, leaking in a swift puddle under the monster's body, dripping from his mother's sword.

Up until that point, he hadn't been particularly scared. Alert, alarmed, but he felt like as long as his father was in front of him he'd be safe. Now, though -- as the monster twitched and spasmed horribly on the forest floor, as the cloud of red miasma seemed to come up to choke him -- now he felt a fear and horror that he had never known. Pain seized his stomach and he doubled over, clutching at his middle as hot-blood-pain filled his nose and mouth and eyes. He might have cried out, but if so he didn't hear it, his ears still ringing with the mournful death-howl of the monster.

For the first time since his parents had lifted him up on the donkey's neck, he fell.

Things went a little blurry for a long time then, but in the end they went into town and got a room inside, after all. He was so sick and miserable he almost didn't notice, but after a time -- a long time, and a hot bath, and a pungent bundle of herbs -- the awful smell began to subside, and he could see and hear again.

It was dark. He was lying tucked up in a bed -- not one of the little truckle beds but a grown-up bed, the covers tucked up to his chin. There was a cool cloth folded across his forehead, and the taste of strong and bitter medicine on his tongue.

From somewhere nearby, he heard his parents talking.

"This is my fault," Mama said. Her voice sounded stuffy, like she'd been sick too. "I'm the worst person in the history of the entire world."

His father's voice, "You did what you had to."

"I could've led it away, first." Mama sounded angry, reproachful. "I could have gone somewhere the baby wouldn't have to see. I should've known better!"

"It's not your fault," Father said. His voice was a low rumble at the edge of hearing. Soothing. "You were just trying to protect him."

"Exactly!" Mama's voice went sharp. "I'm supposed to keep him safe, not make him sick."

His father sighed, somewhere out of sight. "We have to get him to safety first," he said. "Everything else comes second to that."

They didn't speak again for a little while, and sleep began to creep up on him again. Before he did, he heard his mother say:

"Do you think, after we get him back home, Xiao-renshou will let us still..."

Her voice dropped to a low murmur, and he heard no more.

So they were trying to go somewhere. That made sense to him; they were always trying to go somewhere. But now maybe he thought that Mama and Father were having some trouble getting there.

More and more when they entered a new town, they had to turn around and leave again because there were too many black-cloth men. More and more times they tried to go down a road, but the road was blocked, or there was a smell of blood on the wind that made him sick again and his parents turned around. They spent more and more nights camping -- not even along the road, because roads weren't safe, but in fields or under trees or in ruined buildings. There were still campfires and stars shining through the trees but his father didn't tell stories any more, his mother didn't sing.

Day melted into day, night after night, and the little family was getting no further. He could feel how tense his parents were and he tried his best to be good, to not be a burden on them. But he didn't know how to help them get where they were going.

They were in a town; he didn't know the name, only that the buildings were all so tall that he couldn't see all the way up them. His mama and his father were tense and worried, gripping him a little bit too tight, but he stayed quiet because he was trying his best to be good.

His parents talked to each other in low, tense voices, and then they took him into a building. An old lady he didn't know met them in the doorway; there was more talking, and then his father handed over some money. His father took him through the doorway, up a set of stairs and into a little room, but his mother didn't come with them. She went back out the door into the night and didn't look back.

"Where is Mama going?" he wanted to know, and his father smiled down at him and smoothed his hand carefully over his hair.

"She is just going to take care of a few things," his father said. "Don't you worry, little one."

He was already pretty worried. But he tried to do what his father said.

"Are we playing the quiet game?" he whispered. "Are bad things trying to find us?"

His father's hand hesitated, then picked up stroking his hair again. "Yes, that's right," he said. "But nothing will find us here. She's gone out to chase the bad things away, that's all. She'll be back in a few hours, just wait."

He waited, and waited, and waited.

After a long time, he fell asleep. When he woke up, it wasn't morning yet but his father was getting up anyway, pulling on a cloak and wrapping his sword belt around his waist.

"Father?" he asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

His father knelt down next to him. He tried to smile, but his eyes looked terrible. "You're awake," he said. "Try to go back to sleep, little one. I'm going to go out and find my wife."

He was trying so hard to be good, but the thought of being alone frightened him. "Don't go," he begged, seizing his father's hand. "Don't go too."

A voice shouted from outside, and his father went rigid, stiff as a board as he whipped around towards the source of the shout. His father pulled his hand carefully away and no matter how he tried to cling, he couldn't hold on. "Stay here," his father said in a low, rumbling voice. "Stay out of sight. And no matter what you do, don't let any of the men in black find you or take you away. All right?"

His father wanted him to say yes, but he couldn't. His father squeezed his hand one more time, and then he got up, and then he was gone.

---

The men in black didn't find him that night, or the next. For three days he hid in the upstairs room in the tall building, and his parents never came back. The old woman brought him food and water, and a blanket for him to sleep on the floor of the closet. She never told him her name.

By the time a week had passed, he couldn't stand to stay in the little room any longer. The old woman said it was safe -- that the men in black had gone, moved on -- and he could go out onto the street. He looked for his father and mother, everywhere he went, but he never found them.

The days had already begun to get shorter by the time his parents left, the nights colder. He stayed in the house with the old woman as the season turned, as sleet fell and cold winds howled.

Before the days got longer again, he came into the old woman's room to find her curled up stiff in her chair, as cold as the stones of the hearth.

A few days later, when the food in the house was all gone, he ventured out into the street. After a few weeks of walking around the streets, he couldn't find the house any more.

He spent a long time on the streets of the place with the tall buildings. He slept in doorways, or under the awnings of stalls, or in corners where nobody else went. And whenever he saw a man wearing all black clothes, he ran away.

One day -- he wasn't sure how long it had been -- he was woken up by a great burst of noise, of fireworks going off in the sky, of singing and cheering in the streets. When he ventured out to see what was going on there was a man with a big voice walking down the road, shouting that the Xue Sect was no more, that the Woodcutters had defeated them. There were a lot more words than that, but he wasn't certain what they meant. All he knew was that on that day, everyone was happy to give him food and sweets; and after that day, he never saw the men in black clothes in the streets again.

Life in the tall buildings place settled back down. The men and ladies who sold things, out of stalls or off long sticks or from baskets on the corners, all said that this place was Yiling. None of them knew where his mama or father had gone, no matter who he asked.

Some days the ladies at the stalls were nice. Sometimes they gave him little bits of food: the ends of cooked dough that were twisted off the loaf to give it a nice shape, or vegetable that was a funny color and wouldn't sell well, or the dumpling that had cooked in hot oil a little too long.

He learned he had to be careful with dumplings, or any other kind of bun, because sometimes the filling was bad. It couldn't have been on purpose, because the ladies were nice about it, but he knew if he ate the filling of those buns they would make him horribly sick. He always said thank you all the same, and he would give those buns to the other children. But he had to be careful to go somewhere else first, because if the stall ladies saw him giving his bun away to another child, they got mad.

Some days, instead of asking for food that might turn out to be bad, it was easier just to wait at the ends of the market rows and pick through the discard pile after the vendors had dumped their baskets there. He picked through it now, and gave an excited little wriggle when he unearthed his prize: someone had dropped a melon and it smashed on the ground, and they threw the whole melon away! It had been so long since he had gotten anything that was sweet to eat, this really was his lucky day.

He kept an eye on the busy street while he worked, so he did see the group of men all in fancy robes. Two of them wearing dark blue on light blue, and one more wearing purple on blue; all three of them had swords like Mama and Father. He'd learned to stay out of the way of angry men with swords and not get 'underfoot,' but he was out of the way over here, wasn't he?

But the men in fancy blue robes were looking at him, and then staring at him, and then the three of them crossed the street to stand over him and he wasn't sure what to do. "Boy," said the oldest man, the one wearing purple, "Where are your parents?"

He wasn't sure what to do in a situation like this, but he knew it was rude not to answer when grown-ups talked to you. "They left to fight bad things... didn't come back," he said in a near-whisper.

He clutched at his melon. The purple man saw it and reached into his sleeve, produced a bun that smelled of sweet red beans and held it out. He was too hungry to refuse; he barely managed not to snatch it and stuff it into his mouth. The purple man waited until he had eaten most of the bun to say, "That bell you have, can I see it?"

He hesitated. The purple man smiled, in a way that made his eyes crinkle up, like he smiled a lot. He looked kind. "It's all right. I won't try to take it," the kind man said. He pulled out a bell of his own and dangled it from his hand. "See, I have one just like it."

It wasn't just like it. The kind man's bell was even fancier, with more tassels in more colors -- but it was the same shape, the nine points that made up a flower. He held it up so that the two bells were hanging side by side and then, because he thought it might make the man smile, he made his bell ring.

This startled all three of the men; the kind man's eyes went wide, and the two men in blue began to jostle each other with their elbows and mutter excitedly. "So young?" the first one said in a hiss. "His parents must have been training him. They must have been strong!"

The kind man reached out and tilted his head to the side, and with his free hand brushed over the end of the red ribbon that he used to tie up his hair. Mama's ribbon. "Strong indeed," he murmured thoughtfully. "I know this ribbon... Boy, who were your parents?"

He wasn't quite sure how to answer this. In response to his silence, one of the blue men laughed. "Jiang-zongzhu, he's too young to answer that question," he said in knowing tones. "To a child, his parents are only Mother and Father."

The man -- Jiang-zongzhu -- chuckled ruefully and nodded. "Did your parents give these to you?" he asked.

This one he knew for sure. He nodded. Father had given him the bell and Mama had put the ribbon in his hair.

Jiang-zongzhu didn't look surprised. "And what did they call you?"

Father never called him anything. Mama only ever called him baby, or sometimes Baby Wei, so he told Jiang-zongzhu that.

Jiang-zongzhu's face fell, and he crouched down in the street to speak to him eye to eye. "This bell once belonged to a dear friend of mine, Wei Changze," he said in a solemn voice. "He was as a brother to me, so his son is as a nephew to me. I didn't know your mother as well, but I know that she would want her child to be looked after. Come with me and you'll be safe, and you'll never be alone or hungry again."

For a moment he stood there paralyzed, frightened. Jiang-zongzhu waited patiently; he looked up at the two men in blue, who smiled down on him. If they smiled, they had to be nice, right? And Jiang-zongzhu had given him a bun, and said he knew his mother and father. They said never to go with the men in black clothes, but this man's clothes weren't black! He took a deep breath and decided to be brave. "Okay," he said.

Jiang-zongzhu reached down and lifted him up, the way Father always had. He had Father's bell in one hand, and the bun in the other, and in sudden movement made his wooden charm toy slip loose from his belt and fall. He made a grab for it, but missed, and the grown-ups paid it no mind. The talisman clattered to the ground and went dark, lying in the shadow beside the road.

"Let's go home," Jiang-zongzhu said, and hefted him up in his arms. "Wei Ying."

Jiang-zongzhu ("call me Uncle Jiang," he'd said,) brought Wei Ying back to his home, just as he'd promised. He'd said that from now on this would be Wei Ying's home, too.

Wei Ying wasn't sure he believed that, yet.

An older lady had brought him some food -- in a bowl of his own, seated on a cushion in front of a table, which he hadn't done since Mama and Father had left -- and encouraged him to eat. So he ate, all the while keeping one nervous eye and ear on the storm brewing on the other side of the paper door.

A pair of aunties, including the one who had coaxed him to eat, were in the next room clattering dishes around and talking. Maybe they thought he couldn't hear them, or maybe they didn't think of him at all. But he heard his name -- the name Jiang-zongzhu said was his -- and it caught his attention like a hook.

"Wei Ying? The child of Wei Changze?" the unfamiliar auntie said in a hushed tone.

"Yes, and his mother was Cangse Sanren!" said the auntie who had brought him food, her tone delighted.

"Wait, wasn't she that wandering cultivator from Yue?"

"She was!" The auntie's tone lowered confidingly, but he was still close enough to hear the words. "Master Jiang met her at the Cloud Recesses lecture back when he was still the heir. He was quite taken with her, I suppose, because he invited her back to visit Lotus Pier. But if he was hoping to impress her, he missed the mark, because she married Wei Changze instead!"

"Oh! She must have been very in love, to turn down a sect leader's heir!"

"Or perhaps she simply could not bear to settle down, because when she returned to Yue, he went with her," the auntie concluded the story. "I can't imagine what she was doing back in Wu Kingdom at all, let alone in Yiling!"

"And now Master Jiang has taken in her child." She sounded less amused or delighted now, only subdued. "The Madame won't be happy about this."

The Madame was not happy indeed. The Madame was what the kitchen lady had called her, with a nervous edge to her voice, and he could hear her raging voice carrying through the walls, through the halls of this new place. She was furious that Jiang-zongzhu (Uncle Jiang?) had brought home a child without her asking, without her agreeing, without even telling her. She was outraged that such a child -- he heard the words filthy, heard the words ragamuffin, heard words he didn't even know the meaning of -- was dirtying up her house, eating her food.

Wei Ying didn't think he'd be staying here very long, after all. So he tried to eat his food quickly, in case he had to go back.

Jiang-zongzhu argued back for a little while, but then fell silent. The Madame was left to rage on unopposed. Wei Ying felt certain that he had lost the fight; that The Madame would have her way, that he would be taken back to Yiling and left on the same street corner as before.

He fell asleep next to the table, still listening to her rage; but the next morning he was still here, and everybody was acting like he was going to stay, so it seemed that Jiang-zongzhu had gotten his way after all.

Wei Ying learned things quickly about his new home. One of the first thing he learned was that The Madame was called Yu-furen, and she did not like him one bit. He'd hoped, that first night, that he would not have to see her often; but Yu-furen was in charge of the household, and he was now a member of that household too, so she was in charge of him.

He tried at first to reach up to her sweetly like he had to his mama; she did not like that. He tried instead to be polite like he did to the stall ladies in Yiling, the manners that had charmed them to give him food, and she did not like that either. What Yu-furen liked was to tell him to do things, and he would scramble to try to do things; oftentimes he did not know the right way to do them.

(Even when he did do them right, it didn't seem to particularly please her; he came to suspect that she was secretly hoping he would fail, so that she would have a reason to scold him and cuff him.)

Sometimes she wanted him to do things that he couldn't do, and that displeased her even more. One of the first, and worst clashes was when she brought him before the Jiang family shrine, and ordered him to pay his respects. He tried, but he was not sure of the right way to do it, so she grabbed his shoulder and tried to push him into a kowtow and --

He couldn't do it.

He froze. There wasn't any other way to describe it. His knees locked, and his body tensed up, and he could not go into the bow she wanted.

"Insolent boy!" she raged at him. "I cannot believe the ingratitude, the disrespect! After we take you in from the streets, feed you and put a roof over your head, and this is how you repay our family? By showing such flagrant disrespect to our ancestors, to our house?"

No matter how she shouted and shook him, he could not make himself bow. The shouting and shaking got worse until finally Uncle Jiang intervened, and he was not taken into the ancestral hall again after that.

It was likely that moment that gained him a reputation as an insolent, rebellious child. The rumors would surround him as he grew, sticking despite all his efforts to be properly filial and respectful. He didn't want to be insolent; he wanted to be good, to do what he was asked to do, to be good enough that they would want to keep him.

But that wasn't the last time he would clash with Yu-furen. She had already taken a dislike to him, always looking over his behavior for some fault she could criticize; and so it did not escape her notice when, at mealtimes, he left some food unfinished on the plate.

When Wei Ying first came to Lotus Pier, he was so grateful to Uncle Jiang for giving him food that he never thought he could have enough, and certainly never thought he would take it for granted. But as soon as he started having dinner in the main hall with the rest of the family, he realized that some of the things on his plate were the bad food. There were slices of fish laid across rice, or fluffy dumplings stuffed with ground chicken, or pork rib swimming in the stew. He knew that he could not eat them, so he pushed them aside.

Yu-furen noticed.

"What is this?" she demanded, and Wei Ying looked up in surprise to see The Madame looming over him. "Don't you appreciate the food that you're given? Why are you not eating everything on your plate?"

Wei Ying looked down at his plate, where he had carefully sectioned away the food he could not eat, away from the rice and the dumpling wrappers. "These ones are bad," he explained.

Yu-furen's expression darkened, her jaw clenched until the tendons on her neck stood out. Wei Ying shrank back, but it did nothing to shield him from the explosion of wrath. "Bad? Bad?" she exclaimed. "You dare to disrespect the cooks of Lotus Pier this way? Ungrateful child! Do you think you can be so fancy, that you can pick and choose whatever you please? You will eat what you are given, every bite, and you will give your humble thanks for it."

"I can't," Wei Ying sobbed. He didn't know how to explain and even if he could, she wouldn't have listened. The rest of the family, the rest of the room were carefully not looking over at them, all conversation stifled in this moment. "I can't."

Yu-furen reached down and struck the edge of his plate hard enough that all his careful separation spilled together again, hard enough that the liquid jumped up and splashed his face and hands, hard enough that the clang of enamel rang out through the room like a shot. "You will eat what's on your plate, or you will eat nothing at all!" she snapped, and whirled to storm back off to the head of the table.

Trembling in fear, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, Wei Ying ate every bite of food on his plate. Just like he was told.

That night he was sick again, terrible cramps and fever that kept him tossing and writhing in his bed, bile in his throat, fire in his belly.

At dinner the next day, meat was put on his plate again. This time -- memory of the last night's sickness fresh in his mind -- Wei Ying refused to eat it. Yu-furen, in turn, refused to let him leave the table until he had eaten what was before him. Wei Ying ended up sitting at the table long into the night, tears running down his face and onto the cold smelly plate before him; when he was finally released to go straight to bed, his belly ached with hunger instead.

It soon turned into a regular contest of wills with Yu-furen. Sometimes he would give in to her orders, and suffer for it that night. Sometimes he refused, and the conflict lasted long into the evening. Sometimes -- only very rarely, but every now and then -- there would be a dinner with no meat in it at all. Then the meal would pass in a fragile, dreamlike peace; Wei Ying ate with his face tucked carefully downwards while Yu Ziyuan hovered over him, making sharp comments about how he had finally learned some manners.

The next day meat was on his plate once more, and it started all over again.

One night, when he had been banished from the hall on first refusal and sent to bed with neither lunch nor dinner, Jiang Yanli came creeping in to his and Jiang Cheng's bedroom holding a covered dish in her hands. "A-Ying, I made this for you," she whispered, and he cried again when she uncovered it and he smelled the rich savory broth inside. "If you can't eat the food at dinner, that's all right. Just come to me in the kitchens and I'll make you food you can eat."

He found out later that the soup was miso and lotus root, a meatless variation on a classic Yunmeng recipe. At that time he only knew, spooning up the soup as Jiang Yanli sat behind him combing snarls out of his hair, that it was the best soup in the whole entire world.

After that it was better. Yu-furen apparently had decided that she had made her will clear and that he had submitted to it; the daily clashes at mealtimes eased. Over time Wei Ying grew very skilled at sleight-of-hand, slipping the meat off his plate and into his brother or his sister's bowls.

And Jiang Yanli ensured that he never went to bed hungry again.

Jiang Yanli -- far more than Yu-furen -- quickly took over the lonely place in his heart left by the fading memory of his mama. Though she was still young herself, she looked out for the small things in Lotus Pier and she took her self-assigned duties seriously. From baby birds to kitchen cats to little boys, she watched over her small court of residents just as Yu-furen watched over the grown-ups. Whenever Yu-furen noticed, she scolded her daughter, telling her not to encourage pests or coddle lazy children. But she did not notice often.

There were other female students of the Jiang Sect but to Wei Ying, only Jiang Yanli was shijie. She made special meals for him in the kitchen; it quickly became a routine, a special time that the two of them shared together. She taught him how to cook food for himself should he need it, how to clean, how to sew and mend and carefully spoon-feed new kittens. She made sure that the blankets on his bed were clean and warm, and comforted him when he woke crying from night-terrors.

In return he idolized her, hung on every word, followed her around like one of the many ducklings that nested around Lotus Pier. He would have done anything she asked of him, and so when she asked him to try one more time to be friends with Jiang Cheng, he agreed to try.

In truth, he was fascinated by Jiang Cheng. Had been ever since the first night at Lotus Pier. He'd never had another child around, another little boy, one so close in age that their growth and manners were nearly at the same place. (He found out later that Jiang Cheng was actually almost a year younger, but he'd eaten better as a child, so he'd grown faster.) He would have liked to be friends with Jiang Cheng from the moment he set foot in Lotus Pier, except that Jiang Cheng hated him.

Maybe hatred was too strong a word; Jiang Cheng, like himself, was still very young. But when he'd entered Lotus Pier with his hand in Uncle Jiang's and Jiang Cheng's dogs had rushed up to greet him, a red mist had fallen over his eyes and the smell of hot blood filled his mouth, and he'd choked and cried himself nearly into a fit, and Uncle Jiang had ruled that the dogs would have to go. Jiang Cheng had not forgiven Wei Ying for that offense, nor for invading his bedroom, invading his space. He'd ejected Wei Ying from his company and his life very firmly, and it had taken a night trip with Jiang Yanli carrying a lantern to mend the breach between them.

So Wei Ying was willing to try again if Jiang Cheng was. But he was not at all sure that Jiang Cheng was willing.

For three days Wei Ying followed Jiang Cheng everywhere in Lotus Pier, watching him in fascination, copying his every activity. When Jiang Cheng practiced beginner stances, Wei Ying tried them out too. When Jiang Cheng climbed trees, Wei Ying climbed trees. Jiang Cheng searched the riverbank for the perfect rock to skip out over the calm water, Wei Ying came up with a flat stone and offered it.

Jiang Cheng whirled towards him and slapped the offered rock away. "Why do you keep following me?" he demanded.

Wei Ying could only shrug. He didn't have the words to explain this fascination, this wonder, this wish for connection.

"You should just leave me alone!" Jiang Cheng stalked back towards the edge of the river. He seized a stick and dropped into a crouch, using his stick to poke moodily at the river rocks.

"Do you want to be alone?" Wei Ying asked him.

Jiang Cheng didn't answer, so Wei Ying searched around until he found a stick too, and crouched on the sandbank to dip the stick into the water. It was actually pretty interesting, watching the way the stick seemed to bend as it dipped beneath the surface; the way the light changed, the way the tiny bubbles clung to the surface of the stick before peeling off and flying to the surface, the feeling of the stones shifting and grating through the stick against his hand until -- he found one that was different.

"Jiang Cheng, Jiang Cheng, look what I found!" he said delightedly, holding up his prize for the other boy's perusal. "A rock that opens!"

Jiang Cheng just scoffed. "That's just a scallop," he said. "They're everywhere. They taste good, though."

"Oh," Wei Ying said. He wasn't sure he wanted to eat a rock.

Jiang Cheng looked at him, looked down at the edge of the river, then looked at him again. "Hey," he said. "I bet I can find more of these scallops than you."

"I bet I can find more," Wei Ying replied immediately.

They spent all morning combing the riverbank for discarded scallop shells. In the end, their tallies were only off by one; they argued over who had the final scallop shell until voices came to call them for dinner; in the end they decided to call it even, and split the final shell along the seam, each to have one half of the whole.

From then on he and Jiang Cheng became fast friends. From then on Lotus Pier became home in a way that no declaration of Uncle Jiang or soothing assurance from Jiang Yanli could have made it so. He had Jiang Cheng at his side, and between the two of them the world cracked open as easily as the scallop. Yu-furen and her heavy hand was still a distant danger, like the rumbling of a storm cloud -- something to be watched out for, treated with caution and respect -- but much less interesting to him than the little boy his own age.

Jiang Cheng taught him to climb and after that the entirety of Lotus Pier was open to him; trees, buildings, cliffsides, anything could be scaled, opening up wider views of the horizon than he'd ever known. They built a tree fort once, and played in it all through the summer (Jiang Yanli brought them lunches to the base of the tree, though she declined to climb up the rickety ladder herself.) When the autumn storms blew in and the winter kept them close in Lotus Pier, they forgot about their fort; by the time they remembered it and returned the next spring, they had both grown too much to fit through the door.

Other hideaways replaced the fort. They ranged farther, stayed out longer. New life burst forth along with the spring, all up and down the river, and Wei Ying found himself captivated by it. They found baby birds in little nests built into the crooks of the riverbank trees. When rising floodwaters threatened to wash away the nests, Wei Ying spent an entire day -- missing lunch -- transporting them to higher ground. Jiang Cheng followed after him, complaining at first, but soon he was looking out for safer spots and calling out to Wei Ying, who carried the nests carefully to their safer homes.

They explored pools and backwaters along the river, found beaver's dams and crane's nests and tunnels and dens dug out by otters. They found glades singing with toads and pools teeming with newly-hatched tadpoles, and when a cold spell threatened Wei Ying tried to bring the tadpoles inside and raise them in the kitchen in a pot, which earned him a tongue-lashing from the head cook when she found her best cauldron swimming with frogspawn.

Along the river and in the woods around it there were no end of fascinating insects, dark-brown or iridescent green or spotted bright red and orange; Wei Ying could spend hours searching for them, watching them, sometimes bringing them back to show the others. He tried to show them to Jiang Cheng, who screeched at him to get them away, and to Jiang Yanli, who gave him a fixed smile and said very nice, A-Ying.

They waded through swarms of mosquitos and Jiang Cheng got bitten a dozen times, and complained that Wei Ying never seemed to collect any bites at all; when Wei Ying laughed at him he accused his blood of being so disgusting that even the mosquitos wouldn't drink it, and Wei Ying chased him along the pier and dunked him in the river again.

They swam in the spring, and in the summer, and in the fall, and in the winter they ran and slid across the ice until it creaked dangerously underfoot and they tiptoed back home again to dry towels and warm tea and cakes waiting for them.

Jiang Cheng was more indifferent to food than Wei Ying; he would eat pretty much anything, but with the casual assurance that food would always be produced any time he was hungry. It was usually Wei Ying who led them on the search for snacks, sneaking down to the markets after dark or raiding the kitchens in the early morning hoping for guōbā left over from the previous night's rice.

He had yuèbing for the first time when he was eight years old and immediately became obsessed with it; when he learned there would be no more for another whole year he was inconsolable, and begged and pleaded Jiang Yanli and the cooks to teach him how to make it. He and Jiang Cheng spent an entire messy, sweaty afternoon taking up a corner of the kitchen, trying to make yuèbing for themselves. The end result was hard, lumpy, and scorched, but they dared each other to eat every one of the cakes, all the same.

In those endless days, Jiang Cheng was the person who took up the most space in his world; spending time with him, measuring himself against the other, was a preoccupation like no other. The older they got, the more time they spent in competition with one another. Who could swim across the lake the fastest. Who could hold their breath the longest, who could do a perfect handstand on the bed of the lake. They pestered Jiang Yanli endlessly to be the judge in these competitions, until one day she suggested that perhaps they could do a contest to see who could scrub the most pots in an hour. (They were each elbow-deep in suds before it occurred to them that they had been tricked.)

As they grew, their interest in the natural world -- the river and the woods around it -- faded somewhat in favor of a sharpened interest in other people. Every day they could get away from Lotus Pier, from lessons and drills and lectures, they went together down to Lotus Cove; sometimes together with Jiang Yanli, or the kitchen servants, or some of their sect brothers and sisters.

They learned the streets and buildings of Lotus Cove as well as they knew Lotus Pier; they learned the stalls and merchants, the restaurants and businesses, the neighbors and frequent travelers. They found other children -- the sons and daughters of the townsfolk or the occasional foundling who was looked-after in kind by all of the townsfolk together -- and spent afternoons racing through the streets with them, making up games whose rules would be forgotten as soon as they went home again with the sun.

Lotus Cove was a bustling town and Jiang Fengmian was well liked as the master of Yunmeng Jiang; the townspeople held an indulgent fondness for their two young masters, and always greeted them with kindness. The area around Yunmeng was well-favored; news and gossip was always coming in from other towns, other lands that did not fare as well. Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng spent many hours in the tea-house or leaning on stalls that lined the streets, listening to the stories told by the traveling merchants and entertainers.

Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying listened with awe and barely-tamed excitement to stories of great demon beasts or ghost parades, about famous night-hunts where high-powered cultivators faced off against legendary beasts (Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying played at 'Xiangliu Hunt' for a week afterwards,) about great battles between opposing armies, every soldier carrying their own magic sword.

They heard about the evil Xue Clan, who had murdered the old xiandu and tried to steal the infant qilin from the Great Tree. How the other five sects had formed the Wood-Cutters Alliance and vowed to prune back the creeping wormwood advance. Their very own Jiang clan, led by Jiang Cheng's father, had joined the campaign! Jiang Cheng was absolutely fascinated by this topic and would listen to battlefield stories all day, but thinking about them too much made Wei Ying feel sick to his stomach, so he would usually tune them out.

Even once the Five Allied Sects had vanquished the Xue, evil still did not depart the kingdom of Wu. There was too much resentment, too broadly spread and deeply ingrained, and no qilin to cleanse it. Over time the evil influence sank into the earth, like water seeking the lowest level. Sometimes the dark pools would find their way to a rich deposit of metal, and certain kinds of metal would become corrupted and darkened by its influence; from then on, anyone who touched the metal or even stood too close of it would be overcome by a terrible sickness that transformed them into monsters. Metal that attracted too much evil influence gained a name; the Yin Metal.

Some men, ambitious and foolhardy, tried to tame the Yin Metal for power -- to make it into swords, knives or even just arrowheads. But such tales always ended in disaster, said the aunties in the market. The essence of chaos and evil could not be controlled or directed; it would inevitably rebound back on its user, sowing disease and death in its wake. Yet year after year, the prevalence of the Yin Metal grew; first mines, then wells, then whole fields were abandoned because of it. And time after time, unscrupulous men would try to find a way to use the poison to their advantage, and in doing so spread its influence further.

"It's all because we don't have a xiandu, you know," the aunties would say, shaking their heads sadly as though recounting the fatal diagnosis of an older relative. "The blessings of Heaven would keep all this misfortune away, but since the old xiandu died and took his qilin with him, Wu Kingdom has just had one damn thing after another!"

Those were the stories that sent them trudging back to Lotus Pier, lost in thought. For Wei Ying, wishing there was some way that they could help, for Jiang Cheng, wondering what they would do if the misfortune ever came to their door.

But it never did come. For all the suffering that wracked the kingdom of Wu, the worst of it seemed to pass by Lotus Pier without leaving a mark.

The river provided. Lotus pods in summer, lotus roots in winter, fish and birds in all seasons. The river too brought trade and travel in a steady stream past Lotus Pier, and they brought money and goods and favors enough to keep the Jiang both wealthy and well-connected. The terrible diseases that the annals warned of -- fevers and agues that came and went with the seasons -- never seemed to take root in the waters of Lotus Pier.

It was true that the river was wide and deep, and many things washed into it from the shrouded mists further upstream. Yaoguai were an ever-present problem. The Jiang Sect took their duties seriously, sending regular patrols and training rigorously even during the peaceful weeks. The boys trained day after day, week after week, practicing their forms and stances and sparring with the other disciples and each other. They practiced archery, first on stationary targets and then on kites, until they were sure they could hit even a distant target moving fast.

Jiang Cheng was competent at sword forms, good at archery. Wei Ying excelled at both. It was something that drove Yu-furen into a seething fury -- that he always won his sparring matches, that he always came first in target-shooting, that his spiritual energy developed so precipitously despite the fact that he never seemed to work at it. She couldn't punish Wei Ying directly for succeeding but she scolded and heaped scorn on Jiang Cheng for failing, and that always felt like punishment enough to Wei Ying.

Sometimes he wondered if he ought to throw a match, miss a few shots on purpose -- but then Uncle Jiang came by to praise his efforts on the training grounds, and he threw himself into training with twice the enthusiasm. Uncle Jiang never praised his own son half as much, and that hurt, but it wasn't enough to make him stop trying to please his guardian.

Wei Ying was at the head of his age group, coming up fast on some of the older classes. There was some talk -- which Yu-furen shut down savagely every time she heard -- that he was on track to become the First Disciple. His sword forms were impeccable, his archery was flawless, and his spiritual energy level was off the charts.

And then, when Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian were twelve and thirteen -- newly armed with swords and courtesy names -- they went on their first real night-hunt.

~tbc...

Chapter Text

When Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian were twelve and thirteen -- newly armed with swords and courtesy names -- they went on their first real night-hunt. A town further downstream in Yunmeng had called for help with bian yao -- buildings damaged, cattle slain, and now at least one child had been carried off. Some cave in the region, dark and cool and away from the sun, had grown too strong in its concentration of yin energy and birthed a flock of the featherless, poison-clawed, flying monsters.

For this hunt, since the bian yao's biggest advantage was their flying, it was decided to include every archer that Lotus Pier could send. Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian (having recently graduated to full-size adult bows) were tapped, and they were both bursting with nerves and energy at being included on their first real hunt.

They arrived at Quanshui Village late in the afternoon, giving them enough time to scout the area and set up a perimeter before the bian yao began to emerge at dusk. They set up along a wooded ridgeline with a good view of the valley, setting bundles of arrows in front of them and fires ready to light. The best time to hunt would be before the sun fully set, while they were still visible against the sky.

"Bet you I get the most hits," he said to Jiang Cheng, who rolled his eyes and knocked him with his shoulder.

He felt a sharp pain in his ribs; Jiang Cheng jabbed him with an elbow. "Look," the other boy hissed, standing rigid and clutching his bow as he stared upwards at the sky. From a barely-visible cave mouth in the valley below issued a stream of shadowy figures -- the silhouettes all wrong to be birds.

The Jiang disciples began to nock arrows, tilting their bows higher to allow for the drop. Wei Wuxian watched the first couple of arrows fly, then fall to the ground, and took note of the direction and force of the wind.

He picked up an arrow and set it to his own bow, trying to tamp down on the excitement beating in his throat, his wrist. Calm. Calm blood for a good shot, that's what the trainer always said. Calm for a kill. He focused in on one of the flying monsters, letting his senses zone in on it, letting everything else fall away. He felt the wind on his face, in his hair, and waited -- waited --

The wind dropped, just for a moment. The monster dipped. Wei Wuxian felt his lips quirk -- got you -- and let the arrow fly.

The arrow whistled into the air and Wei Wuxian watched it with bated breath, sure for a moment that it was going to overshoot -- but no, it struck the bian yao square in its torso. The monster jerked in mid-air, then fell, falling wings over tail over poison-fanged snout. He heard it crash into the trees below, saw its limbs jerk as they shattered against the branches -- until it finally crashed to a stop on the rocky ground, sprawling still and unmoving.

Dead.

Wei Wuxian felt a strange sensation begin to crawl up through his bones, sending his vision swimming. He heard the other disciples cheer at the first successful shot of the night, felt Jiang Cheng's hand clutching wildly at his shoulder, but it was distant, as through smeared glass.

"Good shot, shidi!" one of the disciples said, and Wei Wuxian blinked at him.

He opened his mouth to reply, doubled over, and vomited his guts out. The cheers and congratulations turned to shouts of alarm, and he staggered to his knees and swayed there. He couldn't breathe -- his heart wouldn't beat -- he couldn't --

The last of the light fled.

When Wei Wuxian woke up he was back at Lotus Pier and Uncle Jiang was sitting at his bedside. He still felt weak, aching in every bone, as though the death of the yao had unstrung him from within. He had not, Uncle Jiang reassured him, been cursed; they had checked.

"Don't feel bad," Uncle Jiang said, gripping his hand comfortingly. "It's not uncommon for new cultivators to be overwhelmed with nerves, when faced with a real monster for the first time. Next time, you'll know what to expect, and you'll do all right."

He hadn't known what to say. He didn't know the words to explain that it hadn't been nerves, he hadn't been scared. This was something else, something worse, and it wasn't going to go away next time, or the time after that. That just the thought of picking up a bow again filled him with such wrenching nausea that he wished he could faint again just to get away with it.

Uncle Jiang had misunderstood his tears then, called for the doctor, and left him.

It was the evening of the day after. The night-hunt had finished without him. He heard about the rest of it in bits and snatches, some from the servants who came to bring him thin rice gruel and some overheard from outside his door or under his window. Uncle Jiang had left the night-hunt under the command of the senior cultivator there and carried Wei Wuxian back to Lotus Pier on his own sword. Jiang Cheng, who had stayed behind, had landed shots on ten of the bian yao and killed four. Yu-furen had been gloating about this non-stop ever since the hunters' return.

Jiang Yanli brought him his dinner -- graduating from thin rice porridge to soup -- which he ignored in favor of leaning in to her, crying on her lap. "What's wrong?" she asked him, softly, as she stroked his hair back over his ears.

"Shijie... there's something wrong with me," Wei Wuxian whispered, still not knowing how to explain. How killing the yao, even though it was a monster, even though it had already killed innocent animals and people, had been wrong in a way he couldn't define, wrong the way the meat in his food was wrong, the way the dog-demon's death had been wrong.

How the monster's death -- even half a mile away in the air -- had felt like his own. "Shijie, I think I'm broken."

"Oh, A-Xian," she sighed, and somehow she understood, even without him finding the words to say it. "Is it really so bad, not to want to kill things? There's enough violence and killing in the world already, isn't there?"

He felt the tears welling up again, helpless and frustrated. "But I have to protect everybody," he objected. "What if monsters attacked Lotus Pier? Attacked you? If I can't protect you, then what even is the use of me?!"

"A-Xian doesn't have to have a use," Jiang Yanli said firmly. "He's precious and perfect, just the way he is."

It was what he'd hoped she would say, it was what he needed to hear, but that was exactly why he wasn't sure he believed it.

He fully expected Yu-furen to come in and yell at him, and waited all night dreading it. Only by the next day did it really sink in that she wasn't going to yell at all. She wasn't angry with him for messing up, for derailing the whole night-hunt; she was happy. Happy, because now she finally had proof that Jiang Cheng was the superior child, and the Wei Wuxian was worthless.

Jiang Cheng himself came to visit the next afternoon, when Wei Wuxian was just about able to get up and move carefully around the room. He came and stood in the doorway and stared, and something about the look in his eyes was very far away. Wei Wuxian didn't dare to speak, until Jiang Cheng broke the silence.

"You know, I always thought that if I could just beat you at something," Jiang Cheng said in that same dead, distant voice. "If I could win just once. Then Father would have to look at me, to praise me. But even now, he barely looks my way."

Wei Wuxian felt his heart break all over again, like the way the monster's limbs had shattered on the way to the ground. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

That got Jiang Cheng's attention, at least. His brows drew down, his eyes came back into focus as he glared at Wei Wuxian. "What are you sorry for?" he snapped. "Did you fall over sick on purpose? Did you ask the Sect Leader to abandon his people in the middle of a night-hunt to carry you back to Lotus Pier? Was this all some grand plan of yours, huh?"

"No... I..." he searched for the words he needed. He'd always been the one to say sorry first between them, because Jiang Cheng's pride was so prickly and it was more important to Wei Wuxian that they be friends again than that he be right, in whatever it was they argued about. "I guess... I'm sorry that won't be your first disciple after all."

Jiang Cheng snorted. "First disciple or last disciple, it doesn't matter," he said firmly. "When I become Sect Leader, you will be my right-hand man, just like your father was for my father. Won't you?"

"Jiang Cheng...!" Tears filled his eyes, but this time they were of relief, of gratitude. He threw his arm over Jiang Cheng's shoulder, pulling him into a rough hug. "Yes, of course, I will."

"Good." Jiang Cheng nodded against his shoulder and squeezed him once, so firmly it was almost painful. "It's a promise."

Life at Lotus Pier went on. The question of Wei Wuxian becoming First Disciple was quietly dropped, and never brought up again.

And on the first day of the New Year after Wei Wuxian turned fifteen, the Jiang sect departed on its pilgrimage to Pengshan.

Since large crowds were not permitted at Pengshan -- except for the rare time when a new xiandu was being selected, at which time all of the clans would send candidates -- the sages there kept a strict schedule of who was allowed to approach the holy mountain and when. Even representatives of the Great Sects could only make a pilgrimage once every twelve years, according to the lunar calendar. They were lucky to get even that -- some of the minor sects, or common people with no affiliation at all, could only go every twenty-four or thirty-six years, or sometimes only once in an entire lifetime!

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian had both sat through lessons about the five holy mountains that made up the impenetrable central massif of the continent, at the center of which lived the Emperor of Heaven and his court. Pengshan was one of the only holy mountains that was accessible to mortals at all, and it was the home of the sacred tree -- the tiān mù -- from which the qilin were born.

In the fifteen years since the old qilin died, some sects and families had abandoned their regular pilgrimages to Pengshan entirely. With the kingdom ravaged by famine and disaster, they claimed, they could not spare the time or the goods to pay tribute. That might be true; it might also be true that the people of Wu Kingdom felt that if Heaven had abandoned them, they might as well abandon Heaven in turn.

But either way, the Jiang Sect still kept to the old traditions. They were to make a pilgrimage every twelve years, so every twelve years they went. The last such pilgrimage had taken place just before Wei Wuxian came to Lotus Pier, in the first month of the new year. Jiang Cheng had been too young to attend, and Jiang Yanli had been too young to remember it well. All three children were afire at curiosity at what they would see when they went to the holy mountain.

Assuming, of course, that Wei Wuxian was permitted to go.

That was by no means a sure thing. All members of the Sect Leader's family were issued invitations... but Wei Wuxian had not been formally adopted by the Sect Leader. All senior disciples had the standing to attend... but Wei Wuxian was no longer high in the rankings of the disciples. The Jiang family could choose to bring as many personal servants and attendants as they pleased... but Wei Wuxian was not officially a servant, either.

Yu-furen certainly did not want to bring him along. Her contention -- which everyone in Lotus Pier heard at great volume in the days leading up to the New Year -- was that since Wei Wuxian was so well known to be an unruly, disrespectful child, he would cause the Jiang Sect to lose face in front of the sages of the holy mountain. That if he could not even bow before the ancestral shrine, he could not be trusted to bow before the sages of Pengshan, either. That he was guaranteed to bring the Jiang Sect nothing but shame and disgrace, to bring trouble, to bring disaster.

After a certain point Jiang Fengmian stopped arguing with his wife, and Wei Wuxian decided that this was it, he wasn't going to get to go. He hugged Jiang Yanli in the shadowy hallway outside of her room and whispered a long list of things for Jiang Cheng to see and do on his behalf. "See if you can bring back a branch or a leaf from one of the trees there, Jiang Cheng," he insisted.

"You want me to break a branch or a leaf on the holy mountain?" Jiang Cheng hissed back. "Wei Wuxian, are you trying to get in trouble at a place where you aren't even there?!"

"I'm not saying you should break off a leaf! Just, if there's one already fallen, pick it up and bring it back," Wei Wuxian wheedled. "That way I'll have something from the trip, just as though I'd been there myself. It'll be almost like I was there with you!"

Footsteps in the hallway meant that all three children scattered to their own rooms, dove into their beds. Wei Wuxian lay in the shadows of his bedroom and stared at the carvings he'd scrawled on the headboard of the bed, and tried not to feel too desolate. At least, while the rest of the Jiang sect was gone, he could have the run of the place.

But the next morning, when the sect grouped up in the courtyard outside of the Sword-Testing Hall, counting heads and gathering supplies and mounts for the journey, Wei Wuxian found himself included after all. It seemed, despite his lack of arguing, that Jiang Fengmian had once again gotten his way.

It was a long journey to Pengshan; traveling overland with this many people and animals would take at least ten days. Coming back would be slightly faster since they would be descending the foothills instead of climbing them, and would leave much of the weight of gifts and offerings behind. Wei Wuxian was so excited to be going along, even Yu-furen's fulminating glares rolled right off his back.

To the Jiang children, accustomed to the wide flat spaces of the river bottoms and to the lush thick trees that grew there, the changing scenery was captivating. As they traveled the ground dried out and became rockier, the streams became thinner and brighter, the animals nimbler and the insects fewer. The trees themselves shrank as they mounted the slopes of Pengshan, becoming short stubborn things twisted by long exposure to cold winds. (Wei Wuxian learned that it was these sage-bushes for which the mountain was named, rather than the actual sages who lived on the mountain, which was not how he would have done things but okay.) Those of the caravan that were not fortunate enough to have strong cultivation suffered from the growing cold; Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian both made sure that every one of their blankets and warm robes were piled about their sister. She insisted sternly that they take at least one warm fur robe apiece, claiming to be more than warmed enough by their concern.

Their party was delayed for a day, camping out in a sheltered valley, when several of the disciples were overtaken by a sickness caused by the thinner air. But they pressed on. Their baggage train, consisting mostly of donkeys, were arrayed with bright tassels and clear bells that rang steadily as the animals mounted the rocky paths. Wei Wuxian felt neither cold nor sick in the clear mountain air; instead he felt invigorated, exhilarated, set about with a strange restlessness he could not name. The ringing bells of the mule harnesses set off faint memories deep in his mind, memories of riding along on a donkey's back with a woman walking ahead, a man holding the reins.

As the youngest members of the party, Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian had few duties to keep them occupied during the journey. Aside from their self-appointed mission to make sure Jiang Yanli stayed comfortable, there was little to do. They drove each other and their parents to distraction in their excitement, more than once being told off to go help the baggage handlers (Wei Wuxian) or to go practice their forms for an hour and then catch up to the caravan (Jiang Cheng.)

At last, they drew near to their destination. Wei Wuxian watched with breathless excitement as the caravan came around one last hairpin turn and the road straightened out, now running due north as they climbed the southern face of the mountain. They found themselves in a broad valley that narrowed towards the north, impassable ridges on either side funneling the valley in to a single point.

Across the narrowest point between the two cliffsides, someone had built a large, imposing gate. The posts and beams of the gate were made from whole logs, each one so thick and sturdy. The land in front of the gate was broad, flat and clear; a place that you could hold an entire night-market on, Wei Wuxian thought.

Rising up from behind the grand gate were a series of mysterious stone spires, sharp points and edges that seemed too numerous and too random to belong to buildings. A group of acolytes in white and sage-green robes came out to greet them, then fell into place at the head of the cavalry in order to escort them through the gate. The stone spires proved to be the tops of a veritable maze of sharp-angled stone structures, some of them so striking that the Jiang disciples couldn't help but goggle at them as they went by. Without the guidance of the acolytes, with only the empty sky overhead, they would have become hopelessly lost within minutes.

Finally they emerged from the stone maze into a courtyard, where a few older disciples awaited. Unlike the acolytes in blue-green, these shrine attendants wore shades of increasingly dark grey over their white underlayers, with more decorative sashes or accessories strung about their person. At the front and center was an elderly lady in elaborate, rich black robes, with her hair done up in stiff loops that almost gave the impression of swaying branches behind her head every time she moved. She gave them a droning but thankfully short speech of welcome to Peng Lu Gong, and then signaled for the acolytes to lead them off to their quarters to get settled in.

For now they were led off to the west, to one of the smaller buildings open to the shrine's frequent visitors. The entire Jiang contingent was settled into one of the guest halls; the donkeys were taken away to unload and stabled.

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian had established their plan of action on the way in; as soon as they were excused from the courtyard Jiang Cheng went to scout the guest quarters and Wei Wuxian to find the kitchens. In less than an hour's time they'd managed to secure the best, warmest and most comfortable room for Shijie, and had hot tea to ply her with.

The journey had taken a toll on Jiang Yanli; no matter how many warm layers she wrapped in, she had no choice but to breathe in the dry and frigid mountain air, which prompted a painful cough all throughout the last leg of the trip. Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng between them fussed over her until the color had returned to her cheeks, her eyes were once again bright, and she chased them out of her rooms with fond laughter.

"A-Zhu will help me unpack," she said, shooing them towards the door. "That's not a sight for little brothers, and I know you want to explore! Just come back here before sundown, so we can all be sure to eat dinner together."

The two of them set out, reluctant to leave their sister but eager to investigate their new surroundings. The Jiang were settled in one of the wings to the western side of the main bloc, and there was a mirroring building on the east side that was not occupied right now. The main body of the shrine was to the north, a complex of large buildings that seemed to be where the population of the shrine resided -- sages, acolytes and others -- as well as storage, halls for special secret holy rituals, and the secluded areas where the qilin themselves would stay if any were living at the shrine right now. At least, so they gathered from the acolytes, who politely but firmly turned them back from exploring in that direction.

But there was still plenty of the shrine to explore -- a mazelike compound of low buildings and covered walkways, little courtyards and gardens blooming with life despite the high elevations and the cold. They were beautiful, but even the roofed walls couldn't keep out the bite of the cold air.

"I wish a-jie hadn't had to come," Jiang Cheng said, echoing Wei Wuxian's own thoughts. "This climate is too cold for her."

"Yeah, well, it's only once every twelve years," Wei Wuxian said, trying to make the best of it despite his own worries. "We should find all the best places, so we can tell her about them!"

"I guess there's some nice gardens around here," Jiang Cheng said begrudgingly, looking around the absolutely exquisite courtyard they'd found themselves in; fragrant grasses surrounding a spring falling into a small pond, over which stooped a perfectly pruned willow. "It has to be fancy enough for a qilin to live in, after all."

"Do you think we'll see any of them?" Wei Wuxian said.

"A qilin? Of course not," Jiang Cheng scoffed. "They're all off in their own kingdoms. Well, except for ours."

"I know that, dummy." Wei Wuxian rolled his eyes. "I mean the mingling guai."

The change of topic annoyed Jiang Cheng. "Don't call me silly, we were just talking about qilin, why would I assume you were talking about something else?" he grumbled, swinging his fist towards Wei Wuxian's shoulder. "Anyway, why would you want to see them? Even if they're sworn in the service of Heaven, a demon is still a demon."

"I don't know. I just think it's interesting," Wei Wuxian said thoughtfully, evading the shoulder-punch with long practice. "I've never met a yao that cultivated far enough to be self-aware, let alone one that forswore its own nature. Don't you think that's pretty impressive? Making a choice that goes against your whole being like that?"

Of all the mysteries of Peng Lu Gong, the story of the mingling guai was the one that most fascinated Wei Wuxian. He was desperately hoping to catch a glimpse of one while they were here, although he knew they tended to be reclusive, and did not show themselves to outsiders.

It was not uncommon in the Twelve Kingdoms for a beast, especially one whose environment was saturated with yin energy, to cultivate into something more -- to become a yao. Over time, if they were not curtailed, the yao would grow in strength and intelligence until -- a few in every century, or so -- they gained an awareness of their self and the world not unlike that of a human. These yao were much more powerful and dangerous than their mindless cousins, and could evade hunters and prey on hapless commoners for many years unless stopped.

What was far less common, but not unknown, was for a yao to gain such awareness of itself and its place in the world that it became discontent with its own nature. A demon could gain immortality of sorts -- sustaining itself for countless years with the blood of its victims -- but it could not hope to reach enlightenment, could never hope to set foot in the heavens or for any existence after death but a cold dissolution. It happened -- very, very rarely -- that a powerful yao would decide to forsake an existence of darkness and hunger in favor of a life of service to Heaven.

"I don't know," Jiang Cheng said after a long contemplative silence. "I guess. I never thought about it."

"I don't know if I could do it," Wei Wuxian said.

"Well, I don't see any yao here," Jiang Cheng said firmly. "Probably they're off in in the north part of the shrine, avoiding sightseers. But here --" They had been proceeding slowly along the walkway but now he stopped, stooping over to sweep up something from the ground and hand it to Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian laughed. "Jiang Cheng, what's this for?"

Jiang Cheng smirked, waving the thing up in Wei Wuxian's face. It was a small broken-off piece of branch, just a few twigs sprouting from the main stem with a couple of dried leaves attached. "You asked me to bring you a fallen leaf or branch from the shrine, remember? Well, here it is."

Wei Wuxian reached out to take it. "That was only when I thought I wasn't going to -- "

As soon as Wei Wuxian's hand closed on the twig, it began to shiver in his palm. Before their eyes, a distinct darkness began to flow up from the palm of his hand around the little branch, twining around every bump and kink in the wood before reaching the leaf. The leaf seemed to burst into a dark flame, the latticework of veins clearly visible through the darkness.

Wei Wuxian's hand jerked back -- even though he felt no flame, no heat -- and the twig fluttered to the ground. Almost as soon as it left his hand, the light doused, and the twig was nothing more than a twig.

"What the heck was that?" Jiang Cheng demanded, breaking the shocked silence.

"I don't know!" Wei Wuxian said. "It didn't do that for you..."

"Yeah, well..." Jiang Cheng prodded the twig with the toe of his shoe. It remained a twig. He glanced around at the walls and roofs of the compound, an uneasy expression on his face. "This is a weird place. We should expect weird things."

"Yeah. Yeah," Wei Wuxian said. "Let's go back. The sun's going down, Shijie will be expecting us."

Finally, finally, the time came for the Jiang Sect to proceed into the receiving hall to pay their respects. Wei Wuxian braced himself for a long, boring wait, but he was used to those. He just hoped (dearly hoped) that when the time came for the entire assembly to bow, he'd be able to do it, or at the very least nobody would notice him if he couldn't.

No doubt Yu-furen had the same hope; she'd put him not in the very last row but in the middle, surrounded by the tallest Jiang disciples on all sides to obscure any sight of him.

The opening ceremonies were indeed very long, and very tedious. Wei Wuxian took to reciting epic poems in his head to try to entertain himself; he came to the end of one, couldn't remember the first stanza for the next, and abandoned that entertainment.

He looked around. He could see mostly his fellow disciples; the greyish-white stone of the temple interior; and the grey-clad sages flitting here and there. His eyes caught on a figure over in the corner whose stance seemed -- odd, and he craned his neck a little to get a better look --

Only to meet a pair of pale silver eyes staring back.

He whipped around to face forward again; after a moment, when nobody shouted at him, he took another peek. He wasn't wrong -- the figure's (man? woman? it was hard to tell from such a short glimpse) eyes were silver, metallic-silver and slit-pupiled. It was a woman, he deduced from the hairstyle, but not a human -- she had scales going up the sides of her neck to disappear under her hair. Was this one of the mingling guai of Pengshan? One of the yao who had gained sentience and sworn themselves to Heaven?

She was still looking straight at him.

Somewhat unnerved by her pale-eyed scrutiny, he turned to face forward again. From where he was standing in the formation he could see Jiang Cheng's back, which meant he also caught sight of the long strand of cobweb -- thick and heavy with dust -- that had fallen to drape over the back of his shoulder. Wei Wuxian reached out, intending to pluck the offending cobweb off his shidi's back before anyone else caught sight of it.

Only to have his hand slapped away by Jiang Cheng, who wasn't even looking. "Stop that," he hissed.

"You've got a --" Wei Wuxian reached out again, and was pushed away again. "I'm just trying to help."

Jiang Cheng shot a glare out of the corner of his eye. "More like you're just trying to get one of your stupid papermen on me," he grumbled.

"I wouldn't do that!" Wei Wuxian said, wounded.

"You did it literally this morning."

"Yes, but I wouldn't do it now," Wei Wuxian said. "Not when we're in the middle of a serious -- Jiang Cheng, just let me get this off you, you look like you've been sweeping a floor with these robes --"

"You look like you've been sweeping the floor with your hair," Jiang Cheng snarked back, and when Wei Wuxian's hand darted out once more, Jiang Cheng grabbed his wrist. It quickly devolved into a minor scuffle between them, Wei Wuxian abandoning his initial plan to dust off the lint in favor of giving his brother a good poke in the face.

Wei Wuxian hadn't intended to cause a fuss, but the scuffle quickly got out of hand. When the two of them finally broke apart, Jiang Cheng pretending dignity like a cat fallen out of a tree as he brushed his robes back into place, Wei Wuxian had the chance to look over once more to the side.

Two more sets of eyes were now staring at him.

The woman with the golden eyes and neck scales had been joined by two more... people, human in shape but not in feature. There was another woman whose hair appeared to be a ridge of iridescent black feathers, and a man with slit pupils and pale hair growing down his neck and across his shoulders in a powerful mane. All three of them were staring at him with the intensity of a hawk watching a mouse (oh, that wasn't a great metaphor, but in the face of those slitted pupils he couldn't help but sympathize with a mouse.)

The other Jiang disciples had noticed by now. They could hardly fail to, especially when the snakey woman moved -- slid between the ranks of disciples and ended up staring Wei Wuxian directly in the face.

Wei Wuxian looked back helplessly. Had he done something wrong? Was he in trouble? He glanced around, but nobody seemed to know what to do.

Maybe he could talk his way out of trouble. He was very charming, everybody agreed. He opened his mouth. "Can I --"

That was as far as he got before he -- and the rest of the ceremony -- was interrupted by a chorus of inhuman screams. All three of them -- the snake-scaled one, the feathered woman and the man with the lion's mane -- threw their heads back and roared, screamed, and hissed to the sky. The noise was deafening, and it seemed to go on forever.

When at last it ended, Wei Wuxian felt that his ears had gone numb. Everyone in the shrine, he ascertained with a glance around, had stopped what they were doing to stare.

The feathered woman leapt straight in the air, hands and feet somehow catching on perches up in the rafters, and screeched again. The head sage looked up at her, somehow unconcerned by her inhuman behavior. "Is this true?" she said.

Another inhuman noise, this time from the snake-woman standing uncomfortably close to Wei Wuxian. He tried to back away, but in a flash the woman was there again on the other side of him, and he stumbled to a halt.

Everybody was staring at him. Including the head sage. "Bring him forward," she ordered, her clear voice ringing out over the shrine.

Oh no.

Wei Wuxian swallowed rising dread as he straightened up, as he turned and walked carefully down the aisle between the crowd of disciples. He saw Jiang Cheng staring at him, white-faced with horror, and carefully averted his eyes so as not to look back. No reason for Jiang Cheng to get in trouble too; Wei Wuxian would make sure that he would be the only one punished.

Even if he still wasn't sure what he did. Sure, he whispered a little to his brother -- there was a little bit of horseplay -- but how could that have been so bad? Had he broken some sort of prohibition? No fighting on the sacred mountain, not even play-fighting?

As he passed between the last rows of the Jiang he saw Uncle Jiang and Yu-furen standing at the front, and was careful to avert his eyes from them as well. He didn't need to look at Yu-furen to see her frozen fulminating glare, anyway. This was exactly what she had warned against, this was exactly why she hadn't wanted to bring him along, he had made trouble just like she'd feared and brought shame on all the Jiang, and Uncle Jiang couldn't protect him now --

"Come," the head sage ordered him, beckoning him forward. He swallowed again, and kept walking. The ranks of the Jiang were behind him now, and he was alone.

He stepped up onto the dais that the head sage stood on, locking his knees to keep them from quaking. She drew close, staring at his face with a frightening intensity. She didn't look as angry as he'd expected, if he'd really fucked up so bad, but there was an almost fevered light in her eyes.

She reached out -- he expected a slap -- but instead her fingers hooked under his jaw, tilting his face upwards. He stood, completely frozen, unable to protest the liberty. She studied his face intently, then tugged a lock of his hair forward, pulling it over her pale fingers to fall back again.

"It's true, then," she said; and she was no longer projecting her voice to the entire crowd, but the shrine was so silent in that breath-frozen moment that it carried clearly to the edges of the room.

There was a rustle behind him, and Wei Wuxian darted a glance out of the very side of his eyes as Uncle Jiang stood up, his face grey and pale, and took a step forward. "Your Holiness, please, let us discuss this matter," he said in a strained voice. "Wei Ying is young, high-spirited, but he means no harm. He is just a boy. Whatever wrong he may have done --"

His words cut off as the feathered woman dropped down from the rafters to stand before him, feathers arched up in a high crest. "Silence, thief!" she screeched in his face, and one arm drew back menacingly.

At the sight of their Sect Leader being threatened by a yao, pandemonium broke out among the Jiang disciples. No swords had been permitted inside the shrine, but Jiang cultivators did not only rely on their swords; their hands and feet were weapon enough, and Yu-furen's zidian flickered menacingly on her wrist as she moved to aid her husband.

But the feathered woman was not alone, either; several of her fellow yao came out of the shadows to join her, leaping into the crowd with supernatural speed and agility; within moments of the commotion starting, more shrine attendants began pouring out of the nearby doors and hallways to form a solid barrier between the Jiang attendants and the dais, where the senior sage still stood with Wei Wuxian.

They had weapons, Wei Wuxian noted with alarm, a collection of staves and spears with wicked-glinting blades at the end. Several of them flickered with spiritual power of their own, and here in their place of strength they would be more than a match in a fight against the Jiang -- except, why was there a fight happening at all? Over him? Wei Wuxian took a step forward, holding out his hands in appeal, and called out: "Wait, wait! Stop!"

He didn't actually expect that to work. To his surprise the yao broke off from their tussles almost immediately, inhuman faces turning towards him. The shrine disciples pulled back a moment later, following the lead of the yao, and in less than a minute the imminent brawl had ground to a halt.

Under all those gazes, Wei Wuxian wanted to shrink down and disappear. But instead he swallowed, lifted his chin, and lowered his hands. "Whatever you're angry about, leave my family out of it," he said. "It was all me. They didn't do anything wrong."

The head sage let out an angry scoff. Her form still flickered menacingly with spiritual power, a threat far beyond the physical. "Nothing wrong? I daresay they have!" she said angrily.

"No! They didn't mean to," Wei Wuxian implored. "Please, your holiness, my sect-brothers and sisters have nothing but the humblest respect for your ways and for the heavens. I beg you, do not punish them on account of this one."

He brought his hands together in supplication. Not for the first time in his life, but possibly the most fervently, he wished he could bow. If only he could lower his head before her, express his humility, his willingness to take all the blame for whatever terrible misunderstanding had occurred. But his legs locked under him even as his core trembled, and he knew he would not be able to bow even if he tried.

Apparently, it wasn't necessary. The head sage still looked angry, but slowly her demeanor smoothed back from incipient violence to something more simmering, more grudging. "Very well," she said at last.

She gave a hand signal and the shrine disciples relaxed their stances, putting their weapons to rest as they moved back from a fighting position to one of alert guard. They still formed a wall between Wei Wuxian and the rest of his family, though, and he braced himself for whatever trouble was going to come next.

But no amount of bracing could have prepared him for the sage's next words. "This ceremony is over," she declared, turning to face the crowd. "Gather the sages and the mingling guai. Prepare the announcement to go out to all corners of the kingdoms. The Qilin of Wu has come home!"

The assembled sages and disciples, after a breathless moment, burst into cheers. The various yao joined in, more than making up in volume what they lacked in numbers. The feathered woman threw her head back and screeched, revealing a toothless beak in place of a mouth; the maned man let out a roar that shook the rafters. Even in the inhuman cacophony, though, there could be no mistaking the joy.

He was so confused and distracted by everything that had happened in the last ten minutes, however, that the head sage's words didn't actually sink in -- until first the yao, then the shrine disciples, then the head sage herself, turned towards him like a compass needle pointing north, and bowed.

Wei Wuxian blinked. Looked around at the circle of bowing disciples, over their heads at the Jiang, still clustering together in defensive confusion. Only then did the sage's words register, and only redoubled his confusion.

"What... me?" he said, and pointed towards himself. "Wait. What. Me?!"

~tbc...

Chapter Text

Wei Wuxian spent the next several hours attempting to grapple with the following improbable facts:

1. He, Wei Wuxian, was not currently in trouble.
2. However, Yunmeng Jiang -- and in particular, Uncle Jiang -- very much were, being held under close and hostile guard on suspicion of having kidnapped him, Wei Wuxian, because;
3. He, Wei Wuxian, was apparently actually the lost qilin of Wu, vanished from the Heavenly Mountain fifteen years ago and unknowingly raised as a human boy by his equally unknowing family until today.

He didn't really have much of a chance to grapple with #3, however, since as soon as #2 sank in Wei Wuxian had to devote all of his attentions to attempting to convince the sages that there had been no kidnapping going on whatsoever. Or, well, that there had been, but that it wasn't Jiang Fengmian's fault; that Jiang Fengmian had been completely unaware of his ward's true nature; that he had saved Wei Wuxian from the streets and had been nothing but kind and decent and generous to him ever since, swear on the four corners of the earth and the Heavens too, may the Eternal Emperor strike him down if that was in any way untrue.

Nobody seemed to be mad at him (which was a bit of a novelty, to be honest) but the sages here had an annoying tendency to refuse to believe that he meant what he said. Not that they called him a liar -- not outright -- but from their responses he was able to piece together that they thought, for some reason, that he would lie to protect the people who had kidnapped and abused him? Because he was just that nice of a person, apparently?

Arguing uphill in the face of that was a struggle, but Wei Wuxian kept at it. No matter what the sages tried to convince him of, he did owe a debt to Yunmeng Jiang, and Uncle Jiang especially! For ten years of food and shelter, training and education, for accepting him into their household and treating him with love, he owed them. So he continued to argue until -- after nearly three days of debating, and coaxing, and whining, and reminiscing about how happy he'd been at Lotus Pier and how well the family had treated him -- they finally agreed that Yunmeng Jiang had committed no crime and were free to go.

Only then did the implications of #3 really sink in to him: that the Jiangs were leaving, to return to Lotus Pier, and that he was not.

By the time anyone got around to telling him, it was already halfway to done -- the Sect's expulsion from the holy mountain was graceless and abrupt, their usual week-long ceremonies cut short; the last of them would have to be off the mountain by sundown.

Wei Wuxian begged the shrine keepers to allow him to say farewell to his ceremony. The head sage, an elderly woman named Shen Yi, was surprised that he would even ask and adamantly refused under any circumstances to allow him to see Uncle Jiang again.

"But he didn't kidnap me, really he didn't," Wei Wuxian said, for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Be that as it may," the head sage said begrudgingly. "The prospect of controlling a qilin directly is far too tempting for such worldly men. We've learned that lesson well enough over the past few years."

"Uncle Jiang would never!" Wei Wuxian said hotly, but the head sage was unmoved.

"If he is at all wise, he must certainly realize how great of a blessing your presence has granted his home over the past few years," she explained, kindly and a little condescendingly. "Is it not the case that Yunmeng Jiang, more than any of the other worldly Sect, has remained untouched by disaster or disease in the past ten years?"

"Well -- I --" Wei Wuxian floundered. "I mean, I didn't do anything to cause that--"

"Not knowingly, perhaps. But you did," she said firmly. "Without a qilin in his pocket, he must return to face the full bore of calamity that grips the rest of the kingdom of Wu. Surely you see why that is too great a temptation for a mortal man. If anything, it would be a poor Sect Leader who did not seek out such advantages for his own sect."

"But -- doesn't that mean..." Wei Wuxian trailed off. "If I stay here -- if I don't go back -- then Yunmeng Jiang -- my family, my martial brothers, all my friends -- they'll suffer? They might... get sick?"

She sighed. "I understand why such thoughts distress you," she said kindly. "Such compassion is in your nature, after all. But you must put it out of your mind and focus only on reaffirming your connection to the Heavens. Only once you are ready to channel the will of Heaven and select a new xiandu will the kingdom be at rest once more."

If that was supposed to be some kind of comfort, Wei Wuxian thought, she was doing a pretty crummy job of it.

Shen Yi would not budge on letting him see Uncle Jiang. Nor Yu-furen, though truthfully Wei Wuxian didn't argue for that one very hard. He had no doubt that Yu-furen would be in an truly legendary temper -- shamed by the interrupted ceremony, attacked by the guards, held under suspicion like criminals -- and that she would blame him for absolutely all of it. The fact that he was going away and taking all his alleged heavenly blessings with him would probably only make her madder.

Even if she wasn't allowed to hit him now, he didn't especially want to face her. But he still wished desperately that he could see his siblings at least one more time before the Jiang left. When they set out from Yunmeng Jiang, he had no idea that he wouldn't be returning, that he would be leaving them for good. There was still so much left unsaid, so much he never thought he'd have to say.

Finally, after over an hour of steady wheedling, the head sage granted his request. He could see his siblings -- but only one at a time, and only for a short time. It would just have to be enough.

"Jiang Cheng!" Wei Wuxian greeted him with a smile. They weren't easy to come by in the past few days, but he was genuinely glad to see Jiang Cheng again, which helped. "Wow, this past week has been really crazy, huh?"

Jiang Cheng just stared at him, a flat hard-eyed stare that made Wei Wuxian's smile falter. His anxious fidgeting increased; just before he would have broken into nervous babbling, Jiang Cheng spoke. "So," he said, his voice simmering with barely-contained fury, "you were a qilin all along."

"I -- yeah." Wei Wuxian broke the staring contest, looked down at his hands, fidgeted with the cuffs of his new robes. The shrine guardians had given him these, the softest and finest that he'd ever worn, silvery-grey without a hint of Yunmeng purple. "I mean, I didn't know..."

"All those years that you were better than me. Stronger than me," Jiang Cheng interrupted him. "It wasn't because you worked harder, it wasn't because I kept messing up. It's just that you were. Inherently. Better. No wonder I could never measure up."

Wei Wuxian stared, stunned. "Jiang Cheng..."

"Remember when you promised to be by my side always?" Jiang Cheng said. His expression twisted, caught between equal parts hurt and rage. "That's a qilin's idea of a funny joke, huh? Lying to us mortals? Making fake promises?"

"No, I wasn't -- " Wei Wuxian tried to protest, but Jiang Cheng wouldn't let him finish.

"Well, fine!" Jiang Cheng shouted. "Go live on your mountain up in the clouds, above us all! You don't need to set foot in Lotus Pier ever again. In fact, once I become Sect Leader, I'll make sure of it!"

Jiang Cheng pulled something from his sleeve, threw it in Wei Wuxian's face; he instinctively ducked and had to scramble after it, and by the time he straightened up Jiang Cheng had already stormed out the door.

He opened his hand to see what Jiang Cheng had thrown at him. Small, smooth and round, polished by the wear of ten years of habitual rubbing, the mother-of-pearl of an old scallop shell.

---

Wei Wuxian had asked to see Jiang Cheng first and Shijie second because he knew his brother well enough that there might be some shouting involved, and he'd hoped to end on a happier note.

He hadn't quite anticipated just how badly that conversation would actually go, though.

Well, now he was going to see Shijie, and that made everything better! The moment the shrine attendants escorted her into the room, everything seemed to brighten up immediately. "Shijie!" he exclaimed, and ran over to hug her. He held on for a moment longer than he meant to, breathing in her lotus-scented perfume, before he broke the hug and clasped her hands instead.

"Shijie... would you believe Jiang Cheng yelled at me?" Wei Wuxian asked, pouting. "He's so mean. You aren't going to yell at me, are you?"

"No, A-Xian," Shijie said quietly.

"Good! Because this is..." Wei Wuxian didn't have the proper words to describe what all this was. But once he'd started talking, all his anxieties just started tumbling out over each other, like rocks at the start of a landslide. "Because this sucks enough already. Shijie, this is all happening so fast, I don't know, what am I going to do here? They want me to be a qilin, I don't know anything about being a qilin, I just want to go home --"

She burst into tears.

Wei Wuxian stared at her, completely shocked; he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Shijie cry, and he'd long since vowed to beat up any person fool enough to make her so sad. But this, this, this was his fault, and he couldn't beat himself up, what could he do? What had he done wrong?

"I'm sorry!" Shijie said, and gulped back her tears with an effort. She curled one hand around his wrist, tugging him forward. "I -- I promised I wouldn't cry all over you, I didn't mean to make this harder for you but -- A-Xian, they're going to take you away, and I don't know when I --"

She dissolved into tears again, and despite his best efforts Wei Wuxian felt his own eyes burning too. Because she was right; he was going to have to stay here, and she was going to have to leave, and there was no telling when or even if they would be together again. And there was nothing he could say or do to change that, and Shijie was the one he had always run to when he didn't know what to do, and now all she could do was weep.

The two of them clung to each other until the shrine attendants came -- not without sympathy -- to separate them. "Jiang-guniang, it is time," they told her gently. "The rest of your sect is ready to depart. They are waiting only for you."

Shijie nodded despite her tears, and her breath hitched as she tried to compose herself. She stood up and shook her skirts and sleeves back into place, brushed ineffectively at the tear tracks on her cheeks, and turned towards the shrine attendant. "You'll take care of him, right?" she pleaded. "Keep him safe and -- and make soup the way he likes it, and make sure that he dresses warmly enough in the cold, and..."

"Rest assured, the welfare of the qilin is our highest and most sacred charge," the shrine attendant said solemnly.

Her head went up, and her shoulders went back, and she fixed the shrine attendant with a fierce look. "Well that's fine, that you'll take care of the qilin," she said. "But you have to promise you'll also take care of my A-Xian!"

Whatever placating response the shrine attendant murmured back, Wei Wuxian didn't hear it. Nor could he see the same attendant leading his sister away, blinded as he was by tears.

No one else came to see him; no one seemed to have anything else for him to do. Wei Wuxian paced in the small chamber until his frenzied nerves overflowed, and then he burst out of the room and ran for a window.

It took him some time to find one -- the shrine was built like a maze, and he didn't know its secrets -- but at last, at the top of a long set of stairs, he found a door that gave out onto the roof, facing down over the valley approach to the shrine entrance. From there he gazed out over the road and watched the Jiang Sect make their way slowly down it; through the shrine gate, down the valley, until the road turned out of sight.

The head sage joined him there at the wall, once the last echoes of their passage had faded away. "Renshou, let us return inside," she said. "Now that they have gone, and the distractions have been removed, you can focus on reconnecting with your true nature."

Wei Wuxian nodded once, twice, dashed his sleeve across his face as tears spilled again. "Can Shijie..." he started, then shook his head. She wasn't his Shijie any more, now that he was no longer of the Jiang Sect. "I mean Jiang Yanli... can she come visit me sometimes?"

The head sage pursed her lips. "The cultivational Sects may visit the sacred mountain at their appointed times, once every twelve years," she said, then added, "Of course, there may be another great gathering of the clans before then, once the time comes to appoint a new ruler."

Twelve years! That was already most of his lifetime. "That's so far away! Can't she just come visit by herself sometimes?" he pleaded, turning to face the head sage. "Not as a representative of Yunmeng Jiang, but just as... as my sister? Please. Jiang Yanli has been so kind to me, she made food for me for the last ten years. She's... the closest thing to a mother I've got left."

The head sage smiled, laid her hand on his arm and began to lead him back into the shrine. "Don't fret so, Wu-qi," she said kindly. "Qilin have no need of mothers."

The next few weeks -- months -- flew by in a blur. Without the structures and schedules of Sect life at Yunmeng Jiang, it was easy for him to lose track of the days. The shrine had their own schedule, of course (it seemed as though they had no end of rites and rituals that needed to be performed constantly) but they made no effort to enforce his attendance, and there seemed to be no role for him there.

There didn't seem to be much of a role for him anywhere. The primary concern of the shrine sages, now that they had their qilin back, was to 'cleanse' him of the 'impurities' left on him by his sojourn in the mortal world. This seemed to entail hours-long rituals where he sat at the center of an array and meditated, while the sages threw spiritual energy (and occasionally cleansing herbs) at him from all sides. He wasn't entirely sure what the ritual was accomplishing -- he didn't feel any more pure than when they had started -- but the process was deeply unpleasant from start to end.

Aside from that, there was little in his new daily routine to look forward to. His meals were bland, joyless. He asked once where he could find a jar of chilis and was met with horror; apparently spices were but one of the many 'worldly impurities' that he must abstain from. (After that debacle, he didn't even bother asking for alcohol. If his own family wouldn't have let him have any, these joykillers certainly wouldn't. Never mind that he was only fifteen; he was old enough to at least learn what it tasted like, wasn't he?!)

There were no other boys (or girls) of his age at the shrine except for a few of the lower disciples, who seemed to be under strict instructions that they were not worthy to speak with him. Not that most of the rest of them did either -- or at least, not to speak with him in the common language of the lowlands. It turned out, he learned on his fifth day, that there was an entire dialect of language intended specifically for use when talking to or about a qilin. The junior sages insisted on addressing Wei Wuxian in this dialect for almost a week, to his increasing bewilderment and dismay, until he finally had to swallow his pride and beg them to speak plainly.

Altogether there was very little to distract him from his boredom, his loneliness, and his homesickness. He moped around the shrine in a very unbecoming way, which had the unfortunate effect of convincing the master of ceremonies that he was languishing away from all the terrible impurities he'd been exposed to, and scheduled him to two cleansing sessions in a day.

After that, he took to hiding.

The more deference and respect the shrine attendants showered on him, the more spiritual energy got flung at him, the more the little ball of anxiety inside his stomach twisted tighter and tighter day by day. Because there was still a part of him, wrapped around his very core, that was convinced that this was all some colossal mistake. That he, Wei Wuxian, was not really -- couldn't possibly be actually -- a qilin. That he was a fraud who sooner or later would be found out, and then everybody would be furious at him, even though he really, truly hadn't tried to mislead anyone, and in fact had protested this mistake from the very beginning.

He tried to come clean to Shen Yi herself, on the very second day of his residence. "Look," he said. "I think you must have made some mistake."

She smiled at him. "I assure you, there is no mistake."

"No, there has to be!" Wei Wuxian insisted. "Look, I don't know why you all think I'm -- I'm a regular human being, okay? I had human parents. My mother was Cangse Sanren!"

"Cangse Sanren?" the head sage repeated. She rifled around on her desk for some papers. "Hm... she was a close disciple of Baoshan Xianren, xiandu of Yue Kingdom."

"Yeah, but she married a Jiang cultivator, Wei Changze. My dad," Wei Wuxian said. He pulled the Jiang Clarity Bell from his belt; one of the only things that remained from his Jiang Sect uniform. "He was the one who gave me this bell!"

The head sage was quiet for a moment, and Wei Wuxian dared to hope that maybe he'd gotten through. But when she spoke, it was clear that her thoughts had gone down another branch entirely. "It seems that Baoshan Xianren was meddling in the affairs of her neighbors. She should not have done that, but it seems that her aim was your welfare, so perhaps it is excusable." She gave a charitable nod, dismissing of the ruler of an entire kingdom just like that, like a junior disciple who'd made some small but permissible error in training.

"But -- " Wei Wuxian tried to protest, but the head sage interrupted him.

"We will send a message to Yue Kingdom, informing the xiandu of what has transpired," she informed him. "Perhaps Xiao-renshou can be of some guidance for you."

He hoped so. Right now, he wasn't sure that anyone could.

---

It was funny, really -- Wei Wuxian had never known his parents, after all, he had nothing of them besides a handful of blurred memories and a few tokens. Wei Changze's Jiang Sect clarity bell, which Uncle Jiang had given to his care. His mother's red ribbon, which Yu-furen had always hated to see in his hair. He'd clung to them all the same, the last remnants of the parents that he had lost before he could ever properly know them.

Funny to think that, all this time, he had been holding on to a chimera. Funny to think that the man and women whose faces loomed so large in his memory had borne no blood relationship to him at all; that the hands that had held his, steadied him on the donkey, wiped his face at meals, had been little more than strangers, agents from another land entirely. Funny to think that he had been no more to them than a mission, an obligation, a duty.

Funny. Really. Ha ha ha.

Although he'd hoped to see the mingling guai up close and personal on this visit to Pengshan, he hadn't anticipated he was going to be living with them for the foreseeable future. But for the first month or so after his abrupt relocation to the shrine, the inhuman residents seemed to be avoiding him.

On the first day of the new moon since coming to Pengshan, that changed. One of the yao from the interrupted ceremony -- the man with the mane-like growth of hair around his head and shoulders -- approached him in the courtyard within the encircling walls.

"Oh, hello," Wei Wuxian said uncertainly as the man (he still counted as a man, right?) approached him. He wasn't really sure what the proper etiquette was for a conversation with a self-cultivated animal spirit; that hadn't exactly been included in any of his protocol classes back at Lotus Pier.

(At least, he thought, nobody would be expecting him to bow. The sages had finally explained one of the mysteries that had plagued him since childhood -- a qilin could not bow to mortal men. It was not only grossly improper but in some way physically impossible for a qilin to do so, except in some apparent specific circumstance, and the tutors had gotten very upset when he alluded to being forced to bow during his time at Lotus Pier. He had hurried the conversation past that quickly, and not revisited the topic.)

"Greetings, holy one," the yao said to him a clipped, gruff voice. One of the junior shrine attendants had told him that he hailed from the high peaks of the northern kingdom, and although Wei Wuxian had at first thought he looked like a lion, apparently he had started his existence as a great tawny-coated dire wolf. "This lowly one is called Hati. This one would speak to you, if your holiness permits."

"Sure, yeah, my holiness permits," Wei Wuxian said. Hati. It was a strange name, not a proper person name at all, but it suited the man somehow. When he rose from his bow there was what looked like a flicker of lightning in his light-colored eyes, and a feeling of static playing off his fur. It wasn't Hati's fault, Wei Wuxian reminded himself ruthlessly, that he put out the same smell in the air as Yu-furen in a bad temper. "What's on your mind?"

Hati stared at him for a moment without blinking, just long enough for Wei Wuxian to start fidgeting, before he shook himself out of it. "This one wished to ask," he said, his voice strangely hesitant despite its deep thrumming power, "whether his Holiness has yet taken any bondsmen."

"Uh, no," Wei Wuxian said, taken off guard. Bondsmen? The word rang a faint bell, but he wasn't sure what it meant in relation to, y'know, qilin stuff.

Hati just went into an even deeper bow, his upper body almost parallel to the ground. "Then, if his Holiness permits, this unworthy one wishes to offer himself for consideration," he said in his deep, resonant voice.

Despite his discomfort with the conversation, a flagging part of Wei Wuxian's spirit perked up at the prospect of making a new friend, of finding some connection to replace the aching empty places where his siblings had gone out of reach. "Oh, you mean, as a bondsman?" he said. "I mean, sure, maybe? What's involved with that?"

Hati glanced up at him, indecision his lightning-colored eyes, before he apparently decided -- correctly -- that Wei Wuxian really did know nothing on the topic. "This one... I... would guard you, and serve you, and obey you unhesitatingly for the rest of your life," he said slowly.

"Oh!" Wei Wuxian said. That sounded kind of nice. "And what would I do for you?"

"Nothing." The wolf yao frowned at him. "You do not need to do anything."

"That sounds a little one-sided." Wei Wuxian said. It was uncomfortable enough already, the way all the sages bowed and deferred every time he walked by, the way the disciples jumped to his every request or command. It was an awful lot of deference for someone who hadn't done anything to earn it, and now there was apparently a level of service that went beyond even that? "What exactly do you get out of this bond, then?"

"Well..." Hati's voice slowed, hesitated, and he looked again at Wei Wuxian as though trying to gauge how serious the request was. "Once your life has come to an end, the bonded are granted the right to eat of the qilin's flesh."

Wei Wuxian blinked. For a moment -- in the dark behind his eyelids, between one moment in the next -- he was hit with a sudden rush of nausea and terror, the suffocating smell of blood, the feeling of falling from a donkey --

Then it cleared, and he was back in the courtyard of the great shrine at Pengshan, looking across at a wolf demon wearing a human shape, who had just offered to serve him. Who had just asked permission to eat him.

"I'm, uh," Wei Wuxian's voice cracked, and he swallowed. Flashed up a smile, bright and insincere, and took a step back. "I'm gonna need some time to think about this, 'kay?"

---

Wei Wuxian spent the next several days hiding in his rooms.

Well, not hiding. If anyone asked, he was meditating. And studying. The sages had brought a lot of books to his rooms once they realized just how little he knew about qilin. Most of them were just the annals of the shrine's own history though, and very little happened here, so it made for very dull reading.

He could only read for a few hours at a time before he became restless, too restless to sit still. He paced around and around his roomy chambers, occasionally venturing out to the balcony to stare out at the mountainside or into the courtyard to look around the rest of the shrine. There were always attendants there, or sages, and every time they bowed to him he wanted to scream.

This is all wrong! he wanted to shout, and sometimes it was He said he wanted to eat me! How could you let them do that?! or sometimes, You've got the wrong guy! I'm not any kind of heavenly savior or sacred beast, I'm just me, just me. I can't do want you want me to do. I can't be what you want me to be. I don't know how.

He swallowed the words behind a tight smile, went back to his rooms, and hid some more. The mingling guai, at least, left him alone.

About a week into his hiding, the second qilin arrived.

Wei Wuxian was lured out his hiding place by the commotion at the shrine entrance -- not down at the gate, where the road snaked up the mountain to meet the shrine, but the upper end, the broad barren ring of stone between the caves and the tian mu.

When Wei Wuxian saw a qilin for the first time in his life, his first thought was, Wow! and his second was also wow! and his third was, If qilin are supposed to look like that, then no wonder nobody suspected me.

The qilin -- because the man in the courtyard was clearly, conspicuously, and visibly a qilin -- greeted the shrine attendants with a gentle, easy familiarity. His robes were in the style of a cultivator, but he carried no sword; instead the soft long hairs of a horsetail whisk peeked out from over his shoulder.

But the most arresting feature about him was his long white hair -- not the white of age, frail and ivory-yellowing with time, but the clear effervescent white of starlight on snow. His hair seemed to shine with its own light, sending off little sparks under his skin whenever he turned his head. His skin was smooth and clear, aside from one faint freckle in the center of his forehead.

The second man was a contrast to the first in every way; charcoal black against snowy white, his dark eyes sharp and suspicious, not just one but two swords crossed over his back. His gaze swept constantly around the edges of the room, keeping a watchful eye for any possible threats.

The man in black looked cold, offputting. He could not be a greater contrast to the qilin, who made Wei Wuxian feel warm and fuzzy just by looking at him. Wei Wuxian wondered if he should approach, if he should introduce himself. Surely, if he was a qilin too, he had the right? But he felt almost shy -- an entirely unaccustomed feeling for the outgoing, confident Wei Wuxian. He didn't want to make a poor impression. He wanted the strange qilin to like him.

He wanted to walk in there and step right into the other man's arms, which was a very strange feeling for him. Did qilin do hugs? Was that a thing they did? He sure hoped so; the other man looked like he gave great hugs.

When the silver-haired man turned the force of his attention -- and smile -- on him, Wei Wuxian felt such a warm flush from head to toe that it left him dizzy, swaying on his feet. "And this must be Wei Wuxian!" the qilin exclaimed, his voice warm. "Definitely worth the trip, wouldn't you say?"

"Oh -- me?" Wei Wuxian did a double-take, almost checking behind him as though there might be some other Wei Wuxian. "You're here to see me?"

"What better reason could there be to travel?" the qilin said, letting out a bright laugh. Then he sobered, his expression turning more serious, although his eyes were still kind. "Shen Yi wrote to me of you some weeks ago. She seemed to think that some guidance from another of our kind would be a balm to you. I came as quickly as I could."

Another burst of warmth, and this one almost brought tears to his eyes. "Oh," was all Wei Wuxian said, blinking stupidly.

The qilin didn't seem to mind, his smile returning as he lifted his hands in a salute that Wei Wuxian hurried to return. "It is so good to meet you, didi."

Wei Wuxian looked up, startled by the warm form of address.

"Is it all right to call you that?" the qilin added, a touch of nervousness entering his voice. "I know that we have only just met. But we are all brothers and sisters, you know; there are very few of us in this world, and there really are no others like us."

"No! I mean, yes, please!" Wei Wuxian blurted out, panicking as he realized how his first impulsive response might be misunderstood. "I'd love to be your brother! I never, I've never had an older brother before..."

A part of him wondered if he was betraying the Jiang siblings in this, so ready to grab onto the first family that came along and offered. But a deeper part of him was so alone, and so hungry for connection -- for closeness, for sameness. The other qilin was right; there were no others quite like them, and not even his own siblings had ever quite filled that emptiness.

Warm hands clasped his own, and he jumped as he realized that the white-haired man had moved in to take his hands. He smiled down at Wei Wuxian, and in his dark eyes stars were dancing.

"I am only sorry that it took us so long," he said, a trace of sadness in his voice. "We failed you, and you were lost for years. But now you are home."

For the first time since coming to Pengshan, Wei Wuxian felt like he really could be.

"May this humble younger brother know his elder's name?" Wei Wuxian asked -- politely, but also with a hint of sass. It was better to be himself right out the gate, he figured, so that the other qilin wouldn't build up a false image and be disappointed later.

The white-haired man looked surprised, and then laughed. "Oh! My apologies," he said. "I was in such a hurry that I completely skipped over the introductions."

He backed up a step, still smiling, and clasped his hands in a salute. "Greetings to the Qilin of Wu, called Wei Wuxian, from the Qilin of Yue, called Xiao Xingchen. You can call me Xiao-ge, if you'd like." He lowered his hands and tilted his head towards his dark shadow, who raised his hands in a salute and also bowed. "This is Song Lan," he said cheerfully. "He is my bondsman and my best friend, and someday he's going to eat me."

Song Lan (apparently,) rose from his bow and favored Wei Wuxian with a solemn nod. "On toast," he agreed.

The two of them looked at each other and cracked up. A very old joke, apparently, between very old friends; Wei Wuxian did his best to smile and not feel sick.

But Xiao Xingchen noticed his expression and stopped laughing, looking concerned. "Wei Wuxian?" he asked.

"Sorry!" Wei Wuxian squeaked. As an outsider to their relationship, he was in no position to criticize it in any way. And yet -- "I just, I don't -- why are you okay with this?"

"Oh, didi." Xiao Xingchen sighed, and put a steadying arm over Wei Wuxian's shaking shoulders. "I understand that it would be upsetting to think about. But... by the time it happens, I won't be around to care any more. My spirit will already have returned to the Great Tree." He nodded over in the direction of the tian mu. "I'll just be happy that my body can provide one last service to the world, especially to someone I care about so much."

"But why," Wei Wuxian said helplessly. "If you care about him -- if he cares about you -- then why would he ever want to do that?"

"Because a demon cannot enter the cycle of reincarnation without it," Song Lan spoke up unexpectedly. His voice was quiet and matter-of-fact, and he met Wei Wuxian's eyes steadily. "Not even if we were to dedicate ourselves to the service of heaven for ten thousand years. We can never be anything other than what we were born to be, without that ultimate gift of grace."

"That's our purpose, you know," Xiao Xingchen added, and the solemnity on his face matched that of his bondsman's. "That's what it means to be a qilin. To be the gate by which a little bit of Heaven enters this world."

Wei Wuxian looked from one of the strangers to the other. They were both clearly very earnest, how could they not see the flaw here? Putting your life into the hands of a being who could only benefit from seeing you dead? "But if... that..." he said hesitantly. "If that's something a yao wants so badly, then what if...?"

"Oh, no!" Xiao Xingchen said, following Wei Wuxian's thread to its conclusion and leaping immediately to deny it. "That's not how the bond works at all.

"There's an oath sworn on the bondsman's true name. If they were ever to betray or forsake it, they would be utterly annihilated." He looked deeply distressed even by the prospect. "The bondsman risks just as much as the qilin does, you know. It's not something to be entered into lightly. These pacts last for as long as the qilin lives, and since we are immortal that can be a very, very long time."

"How long have you two been together, then?" Wei Wuxian's curiosity got the better of him.

Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan looked at each other. "Going on four, four and a half centuries, isn't it?" Xiao Xingchen ventured.

"Four hundred and eighty-two years," Song Lan murmured correction.

"Ah, I'm still only a junior in the grand scheme of things," Xiao Xingchen sighed. "The qilin of Hua Kingdom has been alive for over eight hundred years, and his bondsman has been sworn to him for most of that time."

Song Lan made a noise -- a faint, but distinctly disparaging tsk. Xiao Xingchen broke out laughing. "Song Lan, don't make that face," he said. "Just because his bondsman was rude to you --"

"He was rude to you,"  Song Lan corrected him. "He's a jumped-up little ghost who is intolerably rude to literally everyone in the world except his qilin, and the only reason he gets away with it is that Hua-qi thinks he's funny."

"He has his priorities, just as you have yours," Xiao Xingchen said, giving Song Lan a fond look.

Wei Wuxian let their banter wash over him, trying to struggle with the idea of being alive for four hundred years and still be considered a junior -- let alone the thought of living for twice that! As a cultivator he'd always expected that he'd live longer than most other humans -- his strong spiritual energy assured that as long as he didn't get himself killed, it would be a long time before he grew old. But that was on the order of a hundred years, maybe a hundred-fifty if he was lucky -- to think that some of his kind were getting closer to one thousand years...

It was a lot to take in.

The sun was going down, so the three of them headed back towards the shrine; Xiao Xingchen and Wei Wuxian walking ahead, Song Lan pacing behind. The rest of the sages left them alone, thankfully.

"At any rate, taking a bondsman isn't something to be done lightly, and you don't need to rush into it," Xiao Xingchen assured him. "Anyone who's here at the mountain is safe for you, of course. But every yao ever born has the same instinctive hunger, the desire to feed on the flesh of a qilin. There's a reason immature qilin are kept close to the mountain! You're very, very lucky that none ever came close enough to smell you."

"Actually, I think one might have, once?" Wei Wuxian said hesitantly. Xiao Xingchen gave him an encouraging noise, so he continued on. "I don't remember much about my parents -- I mean..." He stumbled over the words, remembering abruptly that Cangse Sanren had been a disciple of Baoshan Xianren -- Xiao Xingchen must have known them. They were closer to being his family than they ever had been Wei Wuxian's. "Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze, I mean."

Xiao Xingchen was looking at him with a gentle, sympathetic expression. "If you think of them as your parents, then they are your parents," he said quietly. "They were open-hearted people with much love to give. I do not doubt for a moment that they loved you just as though you were their child by blood."

Wei Wuxian needed a moment. Xiao Xingchen let him have it, and passed over a handkerchief when called for.

"Anyway," Wei Wuxian said with only a little bit of a sniffle. "I -- I don't remember all that much of them, but I have some memories. Just moments. But I remember an awful dog, with glowing eyes and black smoke coming from its mouth? My -- " he could say the word, Xiao Xingchen wasn't going to rebuke him -- "My mom hit it with her sword, and it made a horrible sound, and died. All I could smell was the blood -- it made me sick as anything for days afterwards. I think she felt really bad."

His mind was still on his mother -- grasping for fragments of a distant memory, trying to find the sense of his mother once more in the new context. But Xiao Xingchen drew in a sharp, dismayed breath at the story. "Oh, you poor child," he said emphatically. "Being exposed to blood -- let alone death -- at such close range, that must have been awful for you."

"Yes!" Wei Wuxian said emphatically. Finally, someone who got it, in a way that nobody else he'd ever told that story to had gotten it. "It felt, like, wrong wrong. Not just a normal kind of wrong! It felt like when Yu-furen used to make me eat meat at dinners."

Xiao Xingchen went suddenly, dangerously still. "They forced you to eat meat?" he asked carefully.

"Uh, yeah..." Wei Wuxian gulped. He'd assumed that Xiao Xingchen already knew, that Shen Yi's letter had already detailed all of the things that were wrong with Wei Wuxian, that made him a less-than-ideal qilin. "But that was a long time ago! Since then, nothing too bad ever happened. Well," he was forced to admit, "except for the first night hunt we went on. I killed one yao and then collapsed, it was humiliating --"

"You killed --" Xiao Xingchen's words cut off in a strangled noise; the next moment he moved, a swift graceful lunge, and Wei Wuxian's words were cut off as the other qilin practically tackled him. Wei Wuxian yelped, tried to bring his hands up in front of his face -- but Xiao Xingchen's arms settled around him, soft as falling feathers.

"Xiao-ge?" Wei Wuxian ventured, after several long moments of silence had passed.

"Just let me hold you for a moment, didi," Xiao Xingchen whispered into his hair. "Just let me... know that you're safe now, that you're okay."

Oh. That was fine then. Wei Wuxian let himself relax, let himself lean into the hug and even hug him back a little bit. He'd been right -- the other man did give great hugs.

He'd been right about something else too -- out in the courtyard it had been easy to dismiss it as a fancy, the diffuse light of a cloudy day, but in this darkened interior room it really was unmistakable. "Xiao-ge..." he murmured in wonder. "You glow!"

Xiao Xingchen laughed, at last straightening up and letting Wei Wuxian stand on his own feet again. "Yes, indeed!" he agreed. "You do too, you know."

Wei Wuxian blinked, looked down over his own arms and body as though something might have changed in the last few minutes. Nothing had. "I don't see it."

"It's because our spiritual energy manifests in the same color as our coats." Xiao Xingchen smiled. "That's easy to see when the color of the light is white, but difficult to see when it's black. But if you look closely, you can see the way it changes colors around it." He lifted a strand of Wei Wuxian's hair as if in illustration.

"You're saying I glow black?" Wei Wuxian boggled.

Xiao Xingchen nodded. "I know it sounds a little strange," he said. "But it's not a bad thing, you know. Hei qi are quite rare, and very lucky when they do appear."

Wei Wuxian stayed quiet for a moment and Xiao Xingchen let him, let him work through it on his own. "Xiao-ge..." he said finally, picking at the edge of his robes. "Are you really, really sure about me? That I'm a qilin, I mean?"

Xiao Xingchen looked at him in surprise. Wei Wuxian rushed to explain himself. "I just mean -- if the hei qi are so rare, isn't it more likely that I'm just a regular human boy, and this is all some... some kind of huge mistake?"

Song Lan let out a short laugh, although he quickly quashed it. Xiao Xingchen remained serious. "I am really, really sure," he said, then smiled once more and reached out to touch Wei Wuxian's forehead. The touch tingled strangely, and he wondered -- if he could see it -- whether there had been a spark of light at the point of contact. "Trust me, even if you cannot trust yourself -- that a qilin knows the energy of another qilin."

"But I don't --" Wei Wuxian shook his head, frustrated. "I don't feel like a sacred beast! I'm just me. I look like a human, I feel like a human."

The two men frowned at him. "You can't shift into your qilin form?" Song Lan asked.

"I wouldn't even know how to start!"

Xiao Xingchen let out a short, thoughtful hum. "That's strange, it's quite instinctive," he said. "You must have shifted from your natural form to your human form when you were a baby, for protection."

Some protection. "Well, it stuck," he said bitterly.

A moment of contemplative silence fell between them.

"Didi," Xiao Xingchen said at last, "can you fly?"

Wei Wuxian lit up. He hadn't gotten to go flying since he had last left Lotus Pier. "Sure!" he said excitedly. "I mastered flying on the sword younger than anyone else in my... oh." He deflated. "You probably didn't mean, flying on a sword."

"That wasn't what I had in mind, no," said Xiao Xingchen, "but it's a good place to start. As qilin, we can ride the winds without need of any other tools."

"I don't know how to do that," Wei Wuxian admitted. It was extremely frustrating, having to admit that there were so many things he didn't know and couldn't do. He hadn't been so inept at anything since he had lost the last of his milk teeth.

Xiao Xingchen smiled at him and held out a hand. "Come with me," he said, "and I'll show you."

The shrine attendants who had objected so strenuously to Wei Wuxian carrying his sword -- let alone flying on it -- gave way to Xiao Xingchen. Wei Wuxian watched his smooth passage through their ranks with poorly disguised envy. Would he ever have that kind of confidence? That kind of effortless authority, here or anywhere?

Much to Wei Wuxian's surprise, once they were outside of the shrine grounds Song Lan unstrapped one of the swords from his back and held it out to Xiao Xingchen. "Frostwork," Xiao Xingchen explained to Wei Wuxian's agog look, which explained exactly nothing. But he stepped onto the sword beside Wei Wuxian, and the two of them lifted into the air together.

They rose swiftly, buffeted by the air currents and the biting mountain winds. Wei Wuxian caught a glimpse of Song Lan on the ground below -- or at least a dark streak that he thought must be Song Lan, running at inhuman speeds to match their flight. Sometimes he seemed to be running more on four legs than two.

But Wei Wuxian didn't have a lot of attention to spare for the mingling guai, not when all his focus was taken by flight. It had been months since he'd done any serious flying, and the air currents here were especially challenging -- many sudden updrafts and downdrafts as the flowing air hit ridges and peaks and turned back on itself.

Most people thought of air as just there, one big solid expanse, if they bothered to think of it at all. But Wei Wuxian had done enough flying to know that wasn't so. The air was much like a river -- if there could ever be a river of such vast depth and breadth -- and full of its own politics. Different layers were different temperatures, moving in different directions and speeds, and they contested with each other and produced swirls and ripples of turbulence that presented their own hazards.

It was freezing cold, dangerous and difficult, and it had been months since Wei Wuxian had felt so free.

Beside him, he heard Xiao Xingchen laugh. "I've missed this!" he said, shouting to be heard over the roar of the swift-moving air. "Nothing in Yue has air currents like these!"

"You know these winds?" Wei Wuxian shouted back.

Xiao Xingchen flashed a brilliant smile, clear even across the distance that separated them. "I grew up here, you know!"

Of course. All the qilin had been raised here, except Wei Wuxian himself.

"Now," Xiao Xingchen yelled out. "Watch closely, didi!"

Wei Wuxian naively assumed that Xiao Xingchen was about to do a barrel roll or something equally cool; he nearly fell off his sword when instead, the white-haired man's form began to ripple and shift. It was strange to look at -- he could almost see the two shapes overlapping each other -- and then the man was gone and a majestic, silver-maned cervid galloped through the skies in his place.

Silver hooves struck bright sparks from the spiritual sword; the white blade flew away in a flash, straight down towards the face of the mountain where it was caught by a dark form that might have been Song Lan. The qilin kept on running without it, bounding effortlessly over the swells and crests of the air, clouds trailing from its forelocks and stars shining in its mane.

Wei Wuxian pushed his sword to the fastest speed it could go, but he could barely keep up with the galloping vision -- and he could tell by its gait, too, that it was taking almost a leisurely pace, not pushing anywhere near its limits. Gusts of wind snatched at him, pushed him back and buffeted him on his sword, but he pushed doggedly on, not wanting this wondrous flight to ever end.

"Wei Wuxian!" He heard the voice sounding in his head now, buzzing in the bone right behind his ear. The qilin did not appear to speak, but Wei Wuxian heard him as clear as though he was standing right beside him. "Can you feel the currents of the wind? Don't fight them! There is a place for you, in the spaces between the gusts! Find that place! Find your own shape!"

I don't know how, Wei Wuxian wanted to say, but he didn't know the trick of making his voice heard without speaking. And what would be the point of saying that? What good would it do? So it was impossible; so what? Wasn't he, Wei Wuxian, born to attempt the impossible? Wasn't he born to this?

He reached out, hands spreading and pushing against the wind; it was so strong, so cold at this height that he could feel it like a solid thing under his hands. No, not solid -- it was a liquid, cold and clear and pure, and as familiar to him as the blood in his own body. The wind -- his wind. His home. He could feel it spreading out around him, the vault of the heavens arching and the turbulent cloudscape of the air below it, racing across the hills and lakes and rivers and mountains, bringing rain, bringing sun. Filling the space between earth and heaven -- his space.

For an instant he saw it -- a negative image against the back of his eyelids, a dark void between the bright gusts of wind. An empty shape, a waiting space. His breath seized in his lungs and he surged forward, shattered the surface of the water and plunged into the depths beyond it. Stretched his arms and legs and his neck in ways he never remembered doing before but knew -- knew -- that they were his.

The wind no longer fought him; the gusts no longer pushed him back. They swirled around him in joyful greeting, lifting strands of his hair -- his mane, streaming his tail out behind him like a banner. Suibian fell away from under his hooves but he hardly noticed her, pacing across the tops of clouds as though running through green grassy fields. He no longer felt the cold. He no longer felt the heartache. He no longer felt alone.

He felt free.

- Art by Sixlayerhouse - 

~tbc...

Chapter Text

Lan Wangji knew, as he climbed the mountain path in his brother's wake, that he would not be the next xiandu.

By the ancient traditions each one of the clans was obliged to put forth at least one candidate at the Selecting Ceremony, so that no clan could claim that they had been unfairly shut out of consideration. Most in fact sent several; since no one knew for certain just what factors the qilin considered when selecting a king, more candidates meant better chances. Lan Wangji was attending as part of the Gusu delegation but he knew as well as the rest of his clan that if one were to be chosen from among the Lan, it would definitely be his brother Xichen. Whatever qualities one sought in a ruler, it could not be disputed that Lan Xichen held them in abundance.

Meanwhile Lan Wangji knew his own virtues intimately, and made no attempt to deceive himself about his faults; he was cold, withdrawn, intractable, and not well liked by his peers. His teachers praised his schoolwork and the elders of the clan praised his manners, but he knew by now that what they were really praising was his obedience -- which did not seem to him like a desirable quality in a king.

That was all right by Lan Wangji. He had no desire to rule over his sect, let alone the entire kingdom -- though if Lan Xichen was indeed the chosen one, Gusu might be left to him after all. If that was the case he would do his duty to the utmost. But in his selfish heart of hearts, he hoped it would not come to that; he did not want to be in charge, and he did not want to be separated from his brother.

No, Lan Wangji had not been brought as any kind of a serious king-candidate. Lan Wangji had been brought to present a respectful showing for his family and his sect, and to keep order among the delegation.

At eighteen, Lan Wangji had been the head of discipline at Cloud Recesses for over a year now. He had gone in the role from a quiet and orderly winter to a cacophonous, infuriating summer of guest lectures, where the peaceful Cloud Recesses was utterly disrupted by a flood of guest disciples from all over Wu Kingdom -- noisy, undisciplined, disrespectful, breaking rules left and right. It was fortunate that Lan Wangji had already memorized virtually the entire course of study; keeping rein over the guest disciples had taken all of his attention during the summer.

The guest disciples, at least, had gone home at the end of the summer. Lan Wangji had almost prepared again for a peaceful winter before the announcement had come that rocked the kingdom from end to end: the Qilin of Wu was finally ready to select a new xiandu, and candidates were to travel to Pengshan to present themselves at once.

Perhaps it was ungracious, but a part of Lan Wangji couldn't help but think: finally. He knew in a general way, as all inhabitants of Wu Kingdom did, that their qilin's situation had been quite unusual. That the infant qilin had been caught up in the civil war against the Xue clan, in the very year of Lan Wangji's birth, and had vanished and remained missing for the fifteen years hence. Fifteen years of disaster and doubt, of uncertainty and calamity -- the relief and joyful celebration had rung out over the land when the news went out that the qilin had been rediscovered at last.

But no call for king-candidates had followed. The sages of the holy mountain were understandably protective of their charge, but so long as there was no xiandu, the instability continued to wrack the kingdom. The sects were left wondering, and wondering, when the ceremony was going to be held. All the sages would say was that the qilin was not yet ready.

Well, apparently the qilin was ready now.

Lan Wangji had been to to the holy mountain once before. In their last allotted year, the year of the rabbit, Gusu Lan was permitted to approach the shrine to pay their respects. Lan Wangji had been ten at the time -- children that age were not usually permitted to accompany the pilgrimage for fear that they would behave inappropriately, but Lan Qiren had argued for his nephew's self-control. Lan Wangji had spent the entire trip in an agony of concentration, making sure he did not speak a word or make a single move out of place, such that he barely remembered the journey or the shrine itself.

He must have done well, as there had been no fuss, and on their return to Gusu his uncle had praised him. Lan Qiren was not a man to offer praise frivolously; Lan Wangji had floated on the high of that simple good boy, Wangji for weeks afterwards.

This time, his duties would be more demanding. They arrived late in the afternoon, late enough that they were shown directly to their guest quarters. The official, formal greeting ceremony would follow the next day and Lan Wangji would have a major role to play in it, but not tonight.

The rest of the Lan delegation lined up in neat rows to file into the meal, but Lan Wangji did not fall in with them. He was not particularly hungry; his spiritual energy was strong enough to sustain him for much longer without needing to eat. Far more than food, what he needed now was solitude.

"Xiongzhang," he said to draw his brother's attention, and caught his eye when Lan Xichen turned to look at him. His brother knew him like no other. He didn't need to say out loud that he was tired from the journey, frazzled by the company of so many people and by the unfamiliar location; he didn't need to ask for permission to excuse himself from any further socializing to regain his equilibrium in peace. It was all conveyed in a direct look, a subtle questioning movement of the head. Lan Xichen smiled in understanding, nodded in permission, and that was all it took.

Lan Wangji moved away from the noisy dining hall (not so much noise from the Lan delegation, of course, but they were not the first Sect to arrive) in search of quiet. Pengshan and Peng Lu Gong were, of course, ideal places for tranquil quiet; Lan Wangji remembered that well enough from past visits. There was a particular fountain, he remembered, which managed to move buckets of water at a time in a single stream of water that was so smooth and pure that it made barely any sound and lost not a single stray drop. He wondered if he could find that fountain again.

He wandered through the shrine grounds, attempting to follow half-remembered paths, before he was forced to admit that his memory was not a reliable guide; everything was smaller than he remembered, and many features that had stood out to him at the time were no longer there.

Before long he found himself lost in the mazelike layout of the shrine, not able to even hear the background noise of the guest quarters. Attempting to retrace his steps, Lan Wangji turned another corner and found himself in a small courtyard containing a well-tended maple tree and (strangely enough in this mountain climate) a small koi pond. Buildings -- or covered walkways -- bordered two sides, the third bounded by a natural cliff.

Lan Wangji realized two things almost simultaneously. The first was that he had strayed far out of the bounds that visiting guests were permitted to access; this was very clearly some high-ranking sage's private garden. The second was that he was not alone.

There was a boy in the tree, about his age, lounging with his back against the trunk and his boot up in the fork of the branches. Lan Wangji was not immediately able to identify his affiliation; his long black hair was caught up only by a ribbon, not a headpiece of any style, and his robes lacked a visible Sect crest. Lan Wangji might have taken him for a servant, except that no servant would lounge so insolently in a tree, in full view of anyone who came into the courtyard, knocking back a jar of wine -- wine! -- with such unconscious assurance.

A young master, unquestionably. A disciple of one of the other visiting sects? Lan Wangji did not immediately recognize him; not one of the troublemakers who had attended the Cloud Recesses as a student, though he was the right age for it. Some other delinquent, then.

As he had seen the boy, though, he had also been seen himself. The young master in the tree sat up a bit straighter (though still with an outrageously casual posture) swinging his leg down to the side of the branch, and smiled over at him. "Hi there!" he chirped. "What are you doing all the way back here? I'm pretty sure this part of the grounds isn't open to the public. Are you one of the Lans? I hear the Lans all wear forehead ribbons like yours. Do you wear it all the time, even when you train? How ever do you keep that clean?"

He hadn't even paused for a breath, Lan Wangji thought, still somewhat stunned by the opening salvo of that smile.

He made a valiant effort to rally, however. "Are you one of the shrine workers?"

The young master burst into laughter, nearly tipping himself out of the tree before he righted himself with a quick twist of one booted ankle around the branch. "Nope! Definitely not," he said cheerfully. "Never worked an honest day in my life."

The accent sounded vaguely familiar, as did the loud, boisterous manner. Lan Wangji tried to place it in his limited experience of the other Sects. "Do you come from... Yunmeng?" he ventured.

"You could say that," the boy said, a wry smile twisting his lips. He tipped the jar of wine back up, drops of it trickling down his chin and throat, which really only outraged Lan Wangji further with its wastefulness. "You wouldn't be wrong!"

The boy was Jiang, then. That tracked. In Lan Wangji's time as the head disciplinarian of the Cloud Recesses, none of the guest disciples had been so consistently troublesome as the Yunment Jiang delegation. They loved nothing better than to run and shout -- two things already forbidden in the Cloud Recesses -- and to take what did not belong to them. No less than seven times over the course of the semester Lan Wangji had to punish Jiang disciples for having stolen some item or another -- half of the time it had been left back in its place the next day, apparently more for the thrill of the steal than for any desire to have the object in question -- but that did not negate the need for punishment.

"I became lost," Lan Wangji admitted. "As soon as I find my way, I will return. You should leave as well."

The boy gave him another smile, and Lan Wangji fought back another surge of inexplicable reaction, a dizzying flash of warmth and peltering, incomprehensible emotion. "No... no, I think I'll stay," he said.

"Then you are knowingly trespassing on sacred grounds," Lan Wangji said disapprovingly. The situation was all too familiar. How many of the guest disciples, in the summer past, had he needed to pry out of remote corners completely off-limit to visitors?

This reminder only seemed to entertain the young master. "If you say so, Lan-gongzi!" he said cheerily.

"Furthermore alcohol is forbidden within the shrine," Lan Wangji went on. The rules of conduct at Peng Lu Gong were not as extensive as those at Cloud Recesses, but he had read them over (twice) before making this journey, so he was quite certain of his rightness. "That is two offenses. Desist immediately."

The young master made a thoughtful noise in his throat. "Mm, I think I won't," he said. "This tree is awfully comfy. A jug of wine, the full moon, and charming company, what could be better?"

"Leave!" Lan Wangji snapped at him. This situation was so familiar -- aggravatingly so -- that he momentarily lost sight of the fact that he was not, in fact, a disciplinarian for the shrine. "Return to the Jiang enclave at once!"

"Ooh, you get so cute when you get fired up." A startling grin, a flash of white teeth, as the young master leaned forward over the branch to get a closer look at him. "Are all the Lans so easy to rile, Gongzi?"

Red flushed Lan Wangji's ears; red tinged the edges of his vision. He was not even certain why this insolent young master's words had fired him up so; he had received much worse insults and taunts, over the years of putting down the fun of his age-mates. There was no reason why being called cute in that Yunmeng drawl should infuriate him so -- and yet --

In the absence of thought, the habit of a year's worth of discipline took over. The other boy was a delinquent; a rule-breaker; the fact that he was a rule-breaker in someone else's Sect did not absolve him. No, in fact, such disrespect in the holy grounds of the Shrine was even worse than if he had merely been visiting in another Sect's home! He had to face punishment for his wrongdoings. And he had to be stopped, brought back to the guest quarters and to his people, before he broke any more rules, before he caused real damage.

If he would not return on his own, then he must be encouraged. If necessary -- forced.

Lan Wangji drew his sword.

The other boy stared at him, stunned and openmouthed. Lan Wangji had only a moment to enjoy his discomfiture before his face lit up like the sun coming from behind a cloud. "Oh!" he exclaimed. "You want to fight me! Wow, you really don't know who I am!"

He did not sound as nervous as he ought, facing down the Second Jade of Lan with a drawn sword. He didn't even sound outraged, as some of his more foolish peers had been. In fact, he sounded delighted, as though Lan Wangji had unveiled a treat for his particular consumption.

The boy laughed, leapt to his feet, tossed his jar of wine from one hand to the next. "I'm afraid I'm a little out of practice, Lan-gongzi," he said, beaming as he placed the jar carefully in a secure crook of the tree. "But I'll certainly give it my best!"

Lan Wangji was tired of listening to excuses. The delinquent had been warned, and yet persisted. He lunged forward, blade extended, intending to sweep the boy off the branch --

Yet when his sword arrived, the boy was no longer there. He leapt upwards -- lightly, without so much as breaking a leaf from the branch -- and somersaulted, alighting again on the roof of the nearby wall. Keeping his balance without any apparent effort, he reached to his side and unsheathed his own blade in a smooth, liquid movement. "So fast, Lan-gongzi!" he said admiringly. "You must train very hard, every day!"

Lan Wangji growled under his breath -- more subliminal than anything -- and leapt onto the wall to face off with his opponent again. He would not be walking away from this so easily.

He moved in again, driving the fight forward -- and found his blade deflected, his form sliding along his opponent's blade until he passed only inches from the stranger's laughing face. The sight of it stunned Lan Wangji, and for a moment -- just a moment -- he forgot why he was doing this. Then his opponent twirled around, blade flicking in fast from the side, and he brought his own up in automatic parry.

The two of them traded blows on the rooftop, moving back and forth along the top of the wall with light-footed grace. Lan Wangji was forced to concede, much to his annoyance, that the other boy was indeed very good. He could match even Lan Wangji's speed, if not his raw strength; but he rarely needed to push back against Lan Wangji's blows with equal force, not when he could twist and slide and glide out of the way.

Lan Wangji was forced to reconsider his usual precise, textbook moves, varying them here and there to keep up with his opponent's unusual style. Having to think about each swing before he placed it engaged his mind, drew him further and further into the contest until his anger was all but forgotten. Their duel did not slow but it became smoother, less harsh; Lan Wangji was not driving forward with the intent to subdue or overwhelm, but to test his opponent's range of moves and call out, each time, a stunningly graceful response.

The boy leapt down from the wall and Lan Wangji unthinkingly followed, finding himself in another courtyard -- similar to the one where they had begun, but with no koi pond and no illegal liquor. The boy was smiling, laughing -- but winded, Lan Wangji could see, strands of hair working their way loose from his half-ponytail and sticking to the sides of his neck and his face. "Well!" the boy exclaimed, sweeping the hairs out of his face with one hand as he sheathed his sword with another. "Ah, this was so much fun."

Lan Wangji found himself at a loss. His anger had drained away during the confrontation, but he still had no idea what to make of such a strange reaction. He was more confused than anything, his swordpoint dropping, and the other boy drifted up to him with a sly, charming smile and guided his sword back into its sheath with a hiss. "I haven't had someone to spar with in years, and you really are very good, Lan-gongzi!" he continued. "Come and find me any time during the ceremonies, I'd be glad to play with you again."

Before Lan Wangji could summon a reply to that, he heard footsteps from behind them, and the sound of someone clearing their throat. He and the boy both turned to see a young woman in the robes of one of the shrine's junior disciples, a worried expression on her face. She must have seen him there -- and with the ribbon, she could not fail to recognize his clan -- but she ignored him almost entirely, instead turning to the strange boy with a deep, reverent bow.

"Esteemed one, please, you are almost an hour late for the formal dinner," the disciple said. "Everyone is waiting for the representative of Heaven to make an appearance."

The stranger let out a gusty sigh. Just to drive the matter home, the disciple followed this up with an almost-tearful, "Renshou, please! No one can eat until you arrive to bless the meal!"

"Aiya, no need to make such a fuss," the boy sighed again. "Fine, fine, I'll be there in a bit. Can't have people starving just because I'm not there." He turned towards Lan Wangji with another one of those cloud-clearing smiles, giving a little wave in his direction. "And I guess you'll be at the welcoming ceremony tomorrow, huh? See you then, Lan-gongzi!"

He bounded away, leaving Lan Wangji stunned in the courtyard. The young disciple, looking much relieved, pattered away after him -- from this angle Lan Wangji recognized the pathway that would take him back to the central hub of the shrine, and from there to the guest quarters.

It took long minutes, however, before he could force his feet to move; they felt like they might as well have been made of stone. His mind was whirling, confusion and disbelief battling with crushing mortification. He would have to report -- His uncle would surely punish him severely -- he would likely be sent home, they might all be sent home -- but how could he have known, the stranger acted nothing like --

But there could be no doubt. No dissimulation.

He had drawn his sword on the qilin.

Lan Wangji had no opportunity to confess that night; by the time he found his way back to the Lan enclave, it was past curfew. His brother and uncle were already asleep; the senior Lan cultivator who had stayed up to ensure his safe return gave him a brief scolding, but ushered him into bed himself before he could say a word about where he'd been or who he met.

He lay awake, staring at the ceiling, for a long time. Although the Lan delegation were all abed, he could hear movement and voices from other parts of the shrine, the sages still going about their duties. Was the qilin still awake, too? He seemed like the sort of person who liked to stay up late. Or was it foolish of Lan Wangji, to assume that the qilin was any sort of person at all?

"Brother," Lan Wangji said at last, breaking the silence with a hoarse whisper. From the next bed over, his brother made a vague sound of assent. "I have a question... about the qilin."

His brother sighed in the darkness. "It's late, Wangji," he said with a hint of reproach.

Lan Wangji worried at his lower lip with his teeth. "It is important," he admitted.

Lan Xichen sighed again, but sat up in his bed and lit one lamp with spiritual energy. Although he looked tired -- more than halfway to sleep -- he made an effort to give his attention to Lan Wangji. "All right," he said. "What's wrong?"

"The qilin's appearance..." Lan Wangji hesitated, not sure how to phrase his question. "Is... unusual?"

"I haven't seen him either, you know," Lan Xichen said, and it was a mark of their closeness that his older brother allowed himself to sound snippy. "Anything I could tell you would just be hearsay, gossip."

Lan Wangji just looked at him, feeling helpless. It must have shown in his face, because Lan Xichen sighed a third time. "All right, all right," he said. "It is true that the rumors say that the new qilin of Wu is very unusual. Reportedly he is a hei qi, a black qilin."

"A black qilin..." Lan Wangji had never heard of such a thing, but it made a terrible kind of sense. "And he can take the form of a mortal man?"

"All qilin can. It's part of how they fulfill their duties," Lan Xichen replied. "I never saw the old qilin, though, so I can't tell you for sure. She died when I was only a baby."

"So if the qilin was in human form... and his hair was black..." Lan Wangji said slowly. "Then there would be no way to distinguish him on sight from an ordinary man."

Lan Xichen, who had been resting his cheek against his fist, straightened up to give his brother a piercing look. "Wangji, why all these questions?" he asked. "Did you catch a glimpse of the qilin earlier? Is that where you were, wandering around in the shrine?"

Lan Wangji winced. "I thought he was a young master of Yunmeng," he admitted.

"Ah, well, you weren't entirely wrong. Apparently the qilin lived for years in Yunmeng before he was found and recovered by the sages. The family there was quite surprised -- they had thought him an ordinary boy, too." He gave Lan Wangji a wide, reassuring smile. "So you see, Wangji, it isn't that embarrassing a mistake to make!"

"It's not that," Lan Wangji insisted. It would have been bad enough if he had merely mistaken the qilin for a human, had merely approached him carelessly and addressed him as such. That would have been bad enough, but what he had done instead -- "I..."

He couldn't get the words out, couldn't admit his transgressions, for just a beat too long. Lan Xichen smothered an enormous yawn with his wide sleeve and slumped back down onto the bed. "Wangji, it's late, and we need to be up early for the saluting ceremony tomorrow," he said, his voice blurred with exhaustion. "We can talk again later, hm? I'll be able to answer your questions once I've met him myself, I'm sure."

The proper thing to do would be to confess his transgressions immediately. But that would immediately cause a fuss, he was sure of it, and his brother was so tired. Lan Wangji swallowed his confessions. "Very well," he said.

Both brothers lay back on their beds, and Lan Wangji snuffed the light.

The next morning, no sooner was the Lan delegation up and dressed than they had to rush around getting ready for the saluting ceremony. There was no time or chance for him to seek audience with either his uncle or his brother before they were all falling into two lines behind their Sect Leader, Lan Qiren at his right shoulder and Lan Wangji at his left. His was a position of honor and responsibility, bearing the gift from the Lan Sect to the new qilin.

The shrine at Pengshan held hundreds of texts pertaining to the history and legend of the qilin, knowledge carefully guarded and tended. But even with the best preservation techniques books got old; paper cracked, bindings withered. Eventually the books would need to be recopied, bound with fresh leather inscribed with countless runes of protection and preservation. The Lan Sect had volunteered to take on the duty of recopying a score or more of books from Pengshan's library, a task that Lan Wangji had overseen for the last eighteen months. It had been a point of great pride when his own calligraphy was deemed good enough to copy a few chapters, to be bound and included with the rest. He clutched over a year's worth of effort from some dozen cultivators, including his own, in an elegant and rune-scribed lacquer box, waiting for the opportunity to yield it back up into the qilin's keeping.

He followed his brother out of the courtyard into the shrine proper, to the broad plaza where the different Sect delegations would assemble to pay their respects and be greeted by the qilin. Although the sun was already up, the Lan delegation was (unsurprisingly) the first into the plaza, and would be the first called on to present their gifts and receive the blessing.

Lan Wangji kept his posture stiff and straight, his eyes fixed straight forward -- but he could still see, out of the corner of his eye, as a party of shrine disciples emerged from a door in the back wall escorting a yawning, bleary-eyed young man to the dais at the front of the plaza. He caught glimpses -- flashes -- as the young man turned to speak with his attendants, as he tossed his head back to laugh at some response. His heart increased in its pace until it was galloping inside his chest, each beat thundering through his veins, but somehow he could still hear that cheerful Yunmeng drawl over its noise.

The qilin mounted the dais and took the high seat, at first with a casual sprawl; some pained protest must have come from one of his attendants, as he let out a gusty sigh and moved to sit up straight. He was closer to the center of Lan Wangji's field of vision now; he could see him clearly even as he kept his eyes staring straight ahead.

The qilin's robes were a more formal, elaborate version of the ones he'd been wearing last night, now with several more layers stiff with shining silver embroidery. His hair -- his black hair, the source of all this misunderstanding -- was much tidier today, having been combed and pinned into submission likely by the same horde of attendants. Today he looked almost like he ought, a figure of unearthly beauty and authority --

But the smile was still the same.

Surely it was nervousness, Lan Wangji told himself, that made his heart pound so. Surely it was the anxious waiting for the axe of punishment to fall. He could not see what else it could be.

At length the other delegations began to arrive and the ceremony got underway; not all of the sects had made an appearance yet, but if they didn't start with the ones they had they wouldn't be finished by sundown. The Lan Sect was called up first, as befit their high status and prompt arrival, and Lan Wangji kept his posture straight and his eyes straight forward even as Lan Xichen stepped forward and began to give his ritual greetings and respects.

Lan Wangji knelt when the ceremony called for it, rose to his feet, bowed at several more points through the ritual, and never let his gaze stray. Once the exchange of rituals was finished, Lan Xichen signalled him to move up and present his gift.

He could no longer avoid it; Lan Wangji's eyes rose to meet the qilin's for the first time since last night.

There was no question; the qilin was smiling at him now, but there was a glint of mischief in his silver eyes that made Lan Wangji's throat dry and his palms sweat. He took a better grip on the lacquered box so that it did not slip.

"So this is the Second Young Master of Gusu Lan!" the qilin exclaimed, smiling widely all the while. "I've heard all about him! A very moral, righteous young man, so they say!"

Lan Xichen inclined his head, slanting a smile over at Lan Wangji. "Your Holiness is too kind," he murmured.

"It made me very curious to meet such a paragon of virtue!" the qilin went on cheerfully. "It made me wonder, just how righteous is our Lan-gongzi? How very dedicated to the rules?"

All eyes in the plaza were now on him, and Lan Wangji's teeth clenched as he fought not to wither under the weight of their stares. He managed to unlock his jaw just enough to grate out, "...Very."

"Ah! What an unimpeachable young man!" the qilin exclaimed, slapping his hand against the arm of his chair in emphasis. "Always good to know that we have people like you keeping society on track. Tell me, Lan-er-gongzi, do you maintain this dedication to law and order everywhere you go?"

Lan Wangji was beginning to see where this was going. But, being addressed directly by such an august personage, he could not refuse to answer. "....Yes," he muttered.

"Fascinating! Absolutely amazing!" the qilin gushed. There was a wicked gleam in his eye, almost manic, that Lan Wangji was certain no one else would know to look for except himself. "So that even if you were, just hypothetically, visiting the home of another sect entirely, if you caught someone breaking the rules there, even someone you didn't know, you would take it on yourself to be the voice of righteousness, and bring down the appropriate punishment, is that correct?"

You could have heard a hairpin drop in the silence of the courtyard. Lan Wangji swallowed, forced his mouth to open, and croaked, "....correct."

"Ei! That's good to hear!" the qilin declared cheerfully. He leaned back, releasing Lan Wangji from his remorseless attention. "I'm sure we all sleep better at night knowing that there are people like Lan-er-gongzi out there, keeping the rules in place for all of us!"

To that, at least, he didn't need to respond verbally; it was enough to bow deeply, hiding his burning face behind the protective circle of his arms, and retreat. The Lan delegation's pace was entirely too slow for his liking, but at last they were shuffled off to the side of the plaza as the Nie clan stepped forward to pay their own respects.

"Well!" he heard his brother whisper, and glanced to the side to see his brother looking at him with a smiling face. "Our friend the qilin seems to have taken quite a liking to you, Wangji! Do you suppose that interest means you are being considered for xiandu?"

Lan Wangji gritted his teeth. "Exactly the reverse," he said shortly. "He is mocking me."

His brother's brow wrinkled slightly in confusion. "Eh?"

"I met him last night." The confession rushed out of him at last, hushed and hurried. "I thought he was a cultivator from Yunmeng, trespassing. He had wine. I thought he was smuggling forbidden substances. I..."

He trailed off, but he didn't need to finish. Lan Xichen was not a stupid man; it was not difficult to draw a line through Lan Wangji's typical behavior on encountering a delinquent, to the qilin's extremely pointed comments on the subject just now. "Ohh, tell me you didn't," he moaned.

Lan Wangji nodded, chagrined.

"Wangji, what have you done?!" Lan Qiren hissed, inserting himself into the hushed conversation. "You could have brought shame on our family and sect!"

"I understand my failings." Lan Wangji bowed his head. "I will submit to discipline."

"Surely it's not that bad, Uncle," Lan Xichen said hopefully. "The qilin didn't seem angry, after all. If anything, he seemed to think it was funny! We can hope that he will not hold a grudge."

Lan Wangji could only hope so too. And if his only retaliation to Lan Wangji's trespass was to roast him in the public eye -- in a way that no one but Lan Wangji himself would understand the hidden meaning to -- then it was a merciful sentence indeed.

The plaza was crowded. The entire shrine was crowded -- it was build to house and care for the qilin and their attendants, not to host large crowds. Only once a lifetime, when the time came for the qilin to choose a new ruler from all the assembled clans, would this many outsiders be permitted on its grounds at all. Aside from the Twin Jades and their uncle, the Lan Sect brought only their ten most accomplished disciples to stand as candidates, and many lesser sects could not field even that many. Lan Wangji was prepared to endure a certain amount of uncomfortable closeness in the name of the greater good.

But there were still some, like the Jin Sect, who had brought two dozen of their main family and as many servants. Technically speaking only potential candidates -- not support staff -- were supposed to attend, but the Jin brought their servants along anyway and claimed them as 'candidates' too. (Lan Wangji privately thought it would be hilarious if, against all expectation, the qilin selected a humble servant instead of one of the nobility -- but the outrage and political upset that would follow such an unprecedented move would not be worth the moment of schadenfreude.)

So the plaza was already quite crowded, disciples rubbing shoulder to shoulder to try to make enough room in the wide space for representatives to come up to pay their respects, when the Wen clan arrived.

And the Wens brought an entire company.

They could not even all fit through the gates of the shrine. Lan Wangji caught a glimpse, in the commotion down the valley past the gates, of a sea of red-and-white clad men milling about in disrupted formation. One group detached from the head of the company and moved purposefully towards the plaza, a powerful figure in sunburst red striding ahead while two other, smaller shadows trailed at his flanks.

The rest of the crowd hastened to get out of their way; Wen sergeants were known for carrying short whips and no patience, and in every place the Wen soldiers frequented people learned to quickly clear their path. Lan Wangji, to his annoyance, found himself pressed up against a wall as the crowd parted in an aisle for Sect Leader Wen and his sons.

Wen Ruohan swept to the front of the plaza and stopped before the qilin's platform; he gave a shallow bow (which was barely appropriate for one of his status) mirrored by his two sons (for whom it was absolutely not.)

"Wen-zongzhu," the qilin greeted them. His eyes flicked past Wen Ruohan to glance over his sons, but he did not ask them to be introduced, and Wen Ruohan did not take the cue to present them.

"Your Holiness," Wen Ruohan said, his voice oozing an smug sort of satisfaction. "It is good to finally meet the messenger of Heaven sent to Wu Kingdom, to guide us on the proper path to our future."

The qilin nodded, unsmiling. Lan Wangji thought with a small vicious satisfaction that the qilin had thus far greeted every Sect Leader and candidate with a smile, except for this one. Wen Ruohan lowered his voice, although anyone present of decent cultivation could still clearly hear him across the open plaza. "And we hope that our relationship will be a long and fruitful one, once the Messenger of Heaven is joined in kingship with my house."

"Funny, I hadn't heard that was decided yet," the qilin drawled. A nervous titter ran around the crowd, quickly silenced at a glance from the Wen overseers. "Why, exactly, are you so certain the next xiandu will be of your house?"

Wen Ruohan smiled widely. "Why, because it is the proper way of things!" he said, loud again. "Rule belongs in the hands of the mighty, those with the strength to enforce order upon the chaos of the world. And there are no young men in the kingdom of Wu more mighty than the sons of the house of Wen!"

Typical, predictable, heavy-handed power plays from the Wen clan -- it truly was only to be expected. Lan Wangji rolled his eyes. He saw Lan Xichen close his own, as though mustering his patience. A rumble of resentment flickered through the crowd, annoyance at Wen Ruohan's arrogance underlaid with a tinge of dismay, that the qilin might bend as a reed before the mighty blast of their self-assurance. Qilin were known for their gentle natures, and this one was young and inexperienced; might he be overwhelmed by the aggressive push?

"Ah yes, your sons," the qilin nodded. "I believe I know the younger, in point of fact. Wen Chao, isn't it?"

Wen Ruohan smiled. "It is indeed."

"Right, of course, we met once before," the qilin mused, tapping one finger against his cheek in a dramatic gesture of deep thought. "At the cultivation conference held at Qinghe, mm, four years ago? The first one held there since our honored Nie Mingjue ascended as Sect Leader? My brother and I encountered your son out in one of the back courtyards, I recall. Strangling baby birds with his bare hands."

The plaza went stone silent. Nie Mingjue, when Lan Wangji shot a look his way, was looking murderous -- no doubt at the reminder of his father's untimely passing, the rumors that had been floating about Wen Ruohan's role in it. His brother had told him, quite privately, that Nie Mingjue believed whole-heartedly that the Wen sect leader had a hand in his father's death, and yet he was forced to greet him respectfully into his home and bow to him as a respected senior.

Behind him, face mostly hidden by Nie Mingjue's wide sleeves, Nie Huaisang looked alarmed and stricken. Knowing Nie Huaisang, it had probably been his birds.

The qilin was leaning forward in his chair, keeping his steely gaze straight on Wen Ruohan. To his credit, the older man's smile never once slipped. "A-Chao was a very inquisitive child," he said at last, puncturing the leaden silence. "Always poking around to see what would happen. Rest assured, he's grown into a fine young man."

"I have no doubts at all," the qilin said in a dust-dry voice, "as to what kind of man he's grown to be."

The awkward silence hovered for a moment more, swirling around the plaza, before the qilin straightened up and leaned back. He was smiling again, but not the wide-bright smile that had made Lan Wangji's heart race; this one was harder, colder.

"I bid you welcome to Pengshan, Wen-zongzhu," the qilin said, his voice so even and respectful that it went all the way around to hover near the other side of mockery. "And all of your followers, as well. It pains me deeply to confess that our humble shrine is inadequate to the task of sufficiently housing all of our venerable guests. In order to assure that none of your people feel unfairly crowded, you may set up your enclave in the valley outside of the gates. The view down the mountainside is truly unparalleled."

A shocked murmur broke and spread through the crowd like dye rippling through a pool of water. The qilin had welcomed the Wens to the mountain, but not to the shrine; in fact he had all but thrown them out of the shrine entirely! It was a brazen statement of disrespect for Wen-zongzhu... and yet no rule had been broken, and the qilin had more than enough authority to order anyone he pleased from his presence.

Wen Ruohan had lost his smile at last, but if there was anger seething under his stony expression, he kept it well concealed. With a sharp jerk of his hand he signalled to his sons, his retainers and his crowd of followers, and they turned and began to make their way to the gates of the plaza.

That seemed to be the signal for the rest of the ceremony to break up. The qilin vanished somewhere in the milling of the crowd, the volume rising precipitously as the cultivators began to exclaim and gossip over the day's events. Lan Wangji was more than grateful to attach himself to his brother's wake, and make their way out of the noisy plaza to the Lan enclave's quiet rooms.

"Well," Lan Xichen said after a period of silence. "I feel somewhat better about Gusu Lan's chances now."

~tbc...

Chapter Text

For the Wen delegation, being exiled to the valley outside the shrine to camp in their tents was not actually a hardship. Wen Ruohan and his entourage traveled with an entire fleet of attendants and rafts of their own home luxuries; their 'tents' were more like portable palace rooms, complete with rugs, incense burners and furniture. Indeed, their tents were more luxurious than most of the shrine's guest rooms.

But that did not stop the Wen brothers from seething over the indignity of being summarily exiled from the shrine.

"I can't believe that insolent... animal!" Wen Chao exclaimed. He paced back and forth across the thick rugs in the main tent, in front of the elaborate chair that his father lounged in. "He humiliated me in front of hundreds of people! And you just stood there and let him, Father!"

Leaning against the sturdy central tent-post, Wen Xu sneered at his younger brother. "Baby birds, for fuck's sake. You would," he said contemptuously. "That's just about on your level, isn't it, A-Chao?"

"Shut up!" Wen Chao spun around to face his brother, pointing a shaking finger of accusation. "If that self-important deer knew half the things that you got up to -- "

"It means nothing." At the sound of their father's voice, both brothers immediately stopped their bickering, lowering their voices and their eyes to stare at the elaborately woven rugs. Wen Ruohan waved a dismissive hand through the air. "Qilin are simple-minded and tender-hearted, as is their nature. No one who actually matters cares about a few birds, boy."

"But this one's disgrace casts a shadow over the rest of us too, Father!" Wen Xu protested. "You heard the qilin. He practically threw us off the mountain!"

"Yet he did not exclude us from the ceremonies," Wen Ruohan replied. "He cannot. Heaven demands that he perform his duty, in finding the strongest leader for his country. We are the strongest, and he knows it. He will have no choice but to give in to that inevitability. And once he returns with us to Qishan and is installed at Nightless City, his opinion on things will no longer be relevant."

"But what if he doesn't choose one of us?" Wen Chao spoke up. "Father, I've encountered him before. You have no idea just how irritatingly self-righteous he can be."

"He will choose us. Whether he likes it or not," Wen Ruohan said firmly. As though he were describing what had already happened, not what lay in the uncertain future. "And if we must help him along to that decision, then so be it."

Jiang Cheng had had a bad feeling about this journey from the start, and so far it was almost entirely living up to it.

For one thing, he was heading up the delegation himself. There'd been little choice on the matter. Jiang Fengmian was firmly disinvited from setting foot on Pengshan -- from coming near the qilin at all, really -- ever again. Although the sages had accepted (grudgingly) their protests that Jiang Fengmian had not known of Wei Wuxian's true identity, that he hadn't sought to kidnap or conceal the qilin in any way, there was still a lingering suspicion there. That under the layer of plausible deniability, Jiang Fengmian hadn't sought to hoard the qilin's blessings for himself, for his sect.

(On some nights, Jiang Cheng wondered too. Looking back over the last ten years of life with Wei Wuxian, all the things that were just a little different about him, it was just so obvious. The way the Lotus Pier had blossomed when the rest of the kingdom was gripped by disasters -- it was so obvious.

A part of Jiang Cheng thought that his father was so much older, more experienced, more wise -- how could he have not known? If he had known, would he have chosen some other course, anything other than bringing the qilin into his home and keeping him close? All he'd had to do was say nothing, and lie by omission, and continue to raise his children in a lie while the rest of the kingdom burned --

It didn't change anything, not now, not for him. But a part of him wondered.)

His mother hadn't been explicitly included in that interdiction, but she had declined to come. (Honestly, that was probably better for both parties.) And the trip and the weather were too harsh for Jiang Yanli, especially if she was expected to lead her clan's delegation at the same time. So it fell to Jiang Cheng by default.

He wasn't his father. Hell, his father barely paid him enough attention to train him, let alone take him into his confidence. But the sages and shrine disciples still gave him the stink-eye, watching him carefully at every moment, as though he'd break into a kleptomaniac qilin-stealing spree as soon as their back was turned --

(Not that he hadn't thought about it. A few times. Of riding back up to Pengshan in the night, of rescuing Wei Wuxian from the grim disciples that held him captive. Of bringing him home, to Lotus Pier, or running away together --)

Anyway. He wasn't.

But it meant he was constantly watched, by both the shrine disciples and also by the representatives of the other sects. Every word, every move he made felt scrutinized for the slightest error. He was painfully conscious of the fact that he was the most junior of all the sect representatives; Sect Leader Nie was the closest in age, and he was eight years ahead of Jiang Cheng, a full-fledged adult.

All of his agemates had come as junior delegates, not as sect representatives in their own right. Jin Zixuan was somewhere in among the Jins, not that Jiang Cheng especially wanted to spend any time with him. He didn't have Wei Wuxian's well-developed loathing to the peacock but that didn't mean he had to like him, not when he insisted on insulting and disdaining Jiang Cheng's sister.

He'd spotted Lan Wangji in among the Lan delegation, but he was sticking to his brother's side like glue (not that Jiang Cheng was bitter or anything) and had made no move to peel off from them. Nie Huaisang, whom he'd befriended at the Cloud Recesses summer session, had given him a friendly little wave but hadn't come over either.

Jiang Cheng was alone.

He had been dreading the part of the Saluting Ceremony where the Jiang Sect would be called up to pay their respects and offer their gift. Jiang Cheng would have been face to face with the qilin -- with Wei Wuxian -- for the first time in three years, and he still remembered the harsh words that had ripped out of his throat at that last meeting. In such a formal setting, that shouldn't really matter too much -- they both had their scripts they needed to carry out -- but he would still have to look Wei Wuxian in the eye.

-- And then just as the Jin finally finished up and the Jiang's name were called, the fucking Wens had shown up. Dragging behind them the better part of an army and the two embarrassments to cultivator society that were Wen Ruohan's sons, they had cut across all protocol and barged into the ceremony with the arrogant expectation that they were the only clan on the field that mattered.

Watching Wei Wuxian put them in their place had been a little bit satisfying, he had to admit. He remembered that discussion conference in Qinghe, too. Hearing Wei Wuxian refer to him as my brother left a pain in his chest that he didn't want to examine. But when the Wen had retreated, tossed out on their shiny red and white rears, the saluting ceremony hadn't resumed. It had simply broken up, the clans eager to circulate with gossip, and Jiang Cheng had been left standing there, the Jiangs' gift still in his hands, with no one left to give it to.

Anyway.

There was no point in worrying about it any more tonight. Tomorrow the Selection Ceremony would really get underway -- day after day of contests and competitions that would pit the cream of cultivation society against each other. All, supposedly, for the goal of proving their worthiness to be xiandu in the qilin's eyes. Frankly, Jiang Cheng wasn't certain how winning a footrace was supposed to prove your worth as a ruler. If a ruler got to the point where they had to rely on running away from their enemies by foot, it sounded like they'd probably already failed pretty badly.

The Jiang delegation (unlike the Wens, he thought with a little vicious satisfaction) were set up in a block of pleasant guest rooms on the second story. The rooms were a little small -- his men were crowded in two and three to a bunk -- but Jiang Cheng at least had a private bedroom. The advantages of rank, he supposed.

He finished the small amount of unpacking he was going to do, setting the incense burner up on the table and sitting back to stare at it. Jiang Yanli had insisted that he bring it along, and pressed on him a package of the kind of incense that Wei Wuxian had liked. He'd like to have something from home, don't you think? Jiang Yanli had asked him. There had been dark rings under her eyes, but her smile was as loving as ever. I'm sure he'll be happy to see you with it.

Did Jiejie seriously think that she could mediate between them from half a kingdom away? That Jiang Cheng would even want her to? That Wei Wuxian would even care --

A noise from the window drew his attention -- a soft pattering sound, like a frog entering the water. Jiang Cheng looked around for the source of it, saw a faint movement over by the window at the same time another faint clatter sounded.

He went over to the window. It was a sheet of translucent-grey paper stretched over a thin wooden frame, treated to retain heat while repelling rain. There was a sliding frame that would let it be pushed to one side, to let air and light in.

He looked out. The moon was just off full, gleaming off the snow-white sides of the mountain peaks and glinting down the valley. Standing in the courtyard below his window, tossing a few pebbles in his hand, was Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian saw him, of course, and waved furiously as though there was any way he could have been missed. "Psst! Jiang Cheng!" he shout-whispered, and if there was anyone else awake along this gallery, there was no way they could have missed it.

Jiang Cheng shut the window.

The clatter of thrown pebbles continued for a few minutes, escalating to larger and larger rocks before the commotion died away. Jiang Cheng was just considering whether it was worth trying to go to bed, when there was a scraping sound and the window rocked in its frame.

He strode back over to the window and flung it wide -- only to come face to face with Wei Wuxian, hovering on his sword directly outside Jiang Cheng's window. "Gah!"

For a moment they stared at each other. Then Jiang Cheng sighed, said goodbye to the chance of getting to bed anytime soon, and pushed the window all the way open. "You might as well come in," he said, stepping aside.

Wei Wuxian squirmed in through the window, staggering slightly as he regained his feet. He slipped Suibian into its sheath with a quiet snick and Jiang Cheng's eyes followed the motion. "They let you run around with a sword?"

"Sure, why not?" Wei Wuxian said. "It's my sword."

It was a gift to you from Jiang Sect, Jiang Cheng thought. You sure were in a hurry to kick the rest of our dust off your shoes.

Aloud he said, "I thought you qilins didn't like... weapons. What with the whole no killing thing."

"Well, a sword is good for more things than just killing things," Wei Wuxian said. "Like flying up to second story windows! And... pointing at things. And..."

A third use was not immediately forthcoming, and an awkward silence hung in the air before Wei Wuxian cleared his throat. "Honestly they didn't want to let me have it until I pointed out that Xiao-ge carries one," Wei Wuxian admitted. "Or, well, Song Lan carries it for him. But he can still have it when he wants it, so there's no reason why I shouldn't carry mine."

There was a lot of story packed into that casual sentence, but Jiang Cheng's attention zeroed in on one point. "Xiao 'ge?'"

"Xiao Xingchen -- the qilin of Yue, that is -- he's helped me a lot." Wei Wuxian's face brightened. "He came to visit a few weeks after I, well, came here, and he explained a bunch of things to me about how we worked, and --"

The words in Jiang Cheng's throat felt etched in acid. "A few weeks," he said. "Didn't take you long to find a replacement brother, I see."

The silence that fell this time was even more palpably painful.

"So," Wei Wuxian said, forcing a frankly painful level of cheerfulness into his voice. "How're things at ho -- at Lotus Pier?"

"Pretty awful, to be frank," Jiang Cheng said bluntly. Wei Wuxian seemed happy to ignore the little slip of the tongue, so he did too. "Lotus crop yield has been down. We still have the river trade, so it's not like we're starving, but it hasn't been great. Dad had to declare a tax recess last year to let people catch up.

"The last two summers, we've had bouts of yellow fever in Lotus Cove. This year it spread up to Lotus Pier. That's why a-jie isn't here --"

"Shijie's sick?!" Wei Wuxian's eyes widened in urgent alarm, and Jiang Cheng hastily waved it away before Wei Wuxian could jump on his sword and fly off to Lotus Pier on the spot.

"No, no! She's fine." She had gotten sick, actually, but it had been a mild case soon fought off by her spiritual energy -- none of the other cultivators had been affected at all. It was enough, though, that their parents hadn't wanted to risk her health on a harsh, cold, high-altitude journey again so soon. "But she stayed behind to nurse the ones who were still recovering. The little ones shook it off easily enough, but some of the older folks are still bedridden." He hesitated a moment, then added, "Auntie Xing died."

It was hard news and he'd made no effort to deliver it gently. He watched Wei Wuxian's breath hitch in his chest, watched his eyes sheen silver with tears, his lips wobble, and a small burning part of him was glad. Why shouldn't Wei Wuxian be pained by hearing tragic news from what used to be his home? Jiang Cheng had had to live through it. Wei Wuxian was the one who left them, and everyone at Lotus Pier knew -- but could never say, not where Yu-furen might hear -- that it was happening because he had left them, because the messenger of Heaven had withdrawn his blessing. That this was their punishment.

But it was a low-burning fire in him and it was quenched by waves of regret and remorse at having put that look on Wei Wuxian's face. Of course he would be hurt by this news; of course he would grieve to hear of senseless death, of pain and suffering that he couldn't do anything to help. It was the nature of a qilin, a compassionate qilin, to so keenly feel the sufferings of the whole world.

(Jiang Cheng had this and all sorts of other Qilin Facts dinned into his ears during their ejection from the shrine three years ago. The sages and their messengers seemed determined to ensure that the Jiang Sect understood the full measure of their blasphemy, and they probably knew more now about the proper care and feeding of qilin than anyone else in the kingdom.)

But the thing was -- Jiang Cheng didn't need that particular lecture. He already knew about the bottomless well of compassion that a qilin had, because he already knew his brother. That was just how Wei Wuxian had always been, with a heart too big and too tender for the cruel world. It had always been Jiang Cheng's job to shield him from as much of the ugliness of reality as he could. Until it hadn't been, any more.

"Is that all you came to see me for?" Jiang Cheng said abruptly, turning away. "It's late, and the contests start tomorrow in earnest."

"Yes, I know," Wei Wuxian said. "Don't worry though, the ceremonies will be short."

There was an artfully casual tone in his voice that immediately put Jiang Cheng on his guard. He turned back if only to squint at Wei Wuxian. "...Why will they be short?" he said suspiciously.

"I have a plan, you see," Wei Wuxian said, and no, nope, that tone and that expression never heralded good things.

"I really, really hate that I'm asking this, but: what is your incredible plan."

"It's simple," Wei Wuxian said with a wide, disarming smile. "Once the choosing part of the ceremonies begin, I'll just tell them that I've already made my choice."

Augh. Fuck Wei Wuxian for acting like this was some kind of game. He was going to draw this out, he was going to make Jiang Cheng ask, when he could not possibly have wanted to hear the answer less. Jiang Cheng gritted his teeth and bit out, one curt word at a time, "And. Who. Is. Your. Choice?"

"Jiang Cheng, don't be deliberately dense!" Wei Wuxian said, giving a fake little laugh. "It's you, of course."

Yeah, that was where Jiang Cheng thought this was going.

He drew in a breath, let the first one out, inhaled deeply in an effort to circulate energy through his meridians, cool his head. Counted to ten. Then exploded. "You must be out of your god-damned mind --"

"Listen! Hear me out!" Wei Wuxian hurried to say, cutting off his angry tirade before he could get into the swing of it. "It'll fix everything, don't you see?"

"See what? What am I seeing? How this is supposed to fix anything!" Jiang Cheng shouted.

"I've figured it out!" Wei Wuxian insisted. "Once the Jiangs are in command, all those nasty rumors about you and Uncle Jiang will be proven wrong. Everything will get better for the Jiangs then. I'll get to come home, to Lotus Pier."

Jiang Cheng stopped dead.

He didn't know what his face looked like, but it stopped Wei Wuxian's frenetic energy in his tracks, left him solemn and sincere in the quiet. He reached out and put a hand on Jiang Cheng's arm. "And I'll be by your side, your right-hand man, just like it was meant to be. Just like I promised I would."

"No." Wei Wuxian started to speak again but this time, Jiang Cheng overrode him. "No, no, no! You cannot do this!"

"I can, I --" Wei Wuxian tried to insist.

"No! This isn't a game that you can cheat at!" Jiang Cheng shook his head. "You have a mission to carry out for Heaven itself! You don't get to turn that aside! Not for me, not for the Jiang, not for anyone!"

"Look," Wei Wuxian said, striving for a reasonable tone. "it would be one thing if I were picking someone unsuitable, but you --"

"I don't want it!" Jiang Cheng shouted.

Wei Wuxian stared at him in astonishment. "Why not?"

"Because I don't!" Jiang Cheng felt like tearing his hair out in frustration. "I don't want to be put in charge of the entire kingdom! I've got Yunmeng and Lotus Pier and that's all I've ever wanted. I don't want the job and I'm not suited for the job, Wei Wuxian, you know I'm not any good at diplomacy, I can't keep my temper, I don't have any training, I wouldn't even know where to begin --"

"You could get good at it! I know you could," Wei Wuxian said eagerly.

"And what if I couldn't!" Jiang Cheng was going out of his mind, Wei Wuxian had finally done it, he'd finally driven him insane. "What if I did a shit job, Wei Wuxian? What then? I'd fuck things up and the kingdom would be worse off than ever, and you would get sick because I was fucking it up, and you could die because of my fuckups, and I'd rather throw myself onto my own sword than ever let that happen!"

He'd grabbed on to Wei Wuxian's arms somewhere in the middle of this speech, the better to scream the last words directly into his face. Wei Wuxian stared back at him, eyes wide, and his voice when he spoke was very small. "Jiang Cheng," he said.

Fuck it. Jiang Cheng gave in to what he'd wanted from the moment he'd first seen Wei Wuxian again -- after three years, it had been three years -- and pulled his brother into a bone-crushing hug. Wei Wuxian's arms came around him in return, tentative, like he still wasn't sure it would be welcome; and Jiang Cheng had to bury a sob into his brother's neck.

"Idiot," he choked out. "After everything the Jiang have done to you -- why would you do something like this for them? For us? Haven't we hurt you enough already?"

Wei Wuxian's cheek rested on his shoulder and his bangs -- the ones that always stuck out, that wouldn't be tamed by any amount of combing -- poked into his face. "When you left three years ago, the sages kept trying to convince me that was true," he said, his voice near a whisper. "But I never believed it, Jiang Cheng, I never did. Lotus Pier was my home, and you and Shijie and Uncle Jiang and Yu-furen were my family. No matter what happens next, no matter where I go, that will always be true."

"I don't want to be xiandu," Jiang Cheng mumbled against his brother's shoulder, still not breaking the hug. "Really, I don't. That's not just false modesty talking. Pick somebody else to stick with that job."

The hug broke at last, reluctantly, and Wei Wuxian faced him again with a shaky smile on his face. "Okay," he said. "But really, things should be better once this whole business is over with. Not just for Lotus Pier, but for everybody. I'll make sure of it."

"Sure," Jiang Cheng muttered. He wasn't sure he believed it, but he wasn't going to argue either; anything to keep Wei Wuxian facing in the right direction, outwards and away from him. Away from Lotus Pier, and to the rest of the kingdom, where his responsibilities were.

"You should head to bed," he said when the hug broke at last.

"Yeah, yeah." Wei Wuxian made a face, scrunching up his nose like he was still a kid. "Not that I've been getting much sleep, lately. There's too much going on! I don't want to miss any of it!"

"You still need sleep, idiot." After a moment's hesitation Jiang Cheng turned away, picked up the incense burner from the table and pushed it into Wei Wuxian's arms. "Here. Maybe this can help settle you down."

Wei Wuxian staggered under the sudden weight of the incense burner; it was already a solid, heavy piece of furniture even when empty. As he examined it, his eyes widened. "Whoa! Jiang Cheng, what is this? Am I supposed to put actual incense in this thing? It's way too fancy to use for real --"

"It's the official gift from the Jiang Sect to the Messenger of Heaven," Jiang Cheng said, cutting him off. "It's meant to be fancy. Anything less would be an insult. I was supposed to hand it over at the ceremony earlier, if the Wens hadn't decided to make themselves obnoxious."

"Yeah, Wen Chao hasn't really gotten any better with age, has he?" Wei Wuxian said, still examining the bulky gift. He lifted the lid to sniff the contents and his restless fidgeting stilled. He looked over at Jiang Cheng, his eyes turning suspiciously wide and shiny.

Jiang Cheng cleared his throat. "A-jie sends her love, too," he said gruffly. "She sent along that incense in hopes it would make you sleep. So don't you disappoint her, you hear? She... she wants you to do your best, too."

"I will." Wei Wuxian was smiling, his all-too-familiar heartstopping smile, and Jiang Cheng ached with the knowledge that he wasn't getting his brother back, not for good. He was still going to leave, and when this ceremony was over he would go one way and Wei Wuxian would go another. "Can't disappoint Shijie, after all."

But for tonight, he had his brother back.

The first day of games opened with a fanfare. Literally, much to Lan Wangji's displeasure. There was a clashing tumult, a crescendo of noise -- all seven sacred instruments had been included on this one -- that ended with a deep commanding roll of the drums. Pennants snapped in the crisp mountain breeze over the fields that had been laid out for the competitions.

Archery, swordfighting, agility flying (he was looking forward to these) as well as wrestling, footracing, stilt racing (he could take or leave these, to be honest) and a number of team sports that were all some form of mock-hunting (pass, please.) On paper the contests were open to all candidates, gentry and commonfolk alike permitted to present themselves before the qilin as a potential xiandu. In practice, of course, noble families had ways to exert pressure on their retainers and servants to stay out of the ring, leaving their own candidates to dominate the field and show off their abilities to the utmost.

While in theory the qilin could select any candidate at all as ruler, in practice, the title had almost always gone to one among the noble houses. The gentry liked to point to that as the distinguishing mark of their superiority to the common man; more likely, Lan Wangji knew, it had more to do with the fact that only the gentry possessed the money and leisure to train their children up in the pursuit of the distinguished arts. If the common folk had no chance to train, how could they expect to fairly compete?

The whole business left Lan Wangji feeling faintly disgusted. Though perhaps that was only sour grapes; he knew he could no longer be considered a suitable candidate now that he had offended the qilin. But the disqualification was more of a relief than a disappointment, to be truthful.

When Lan Xichen and the rest of the Lan candidates headed off to the lists, Lan Wangji excused himself. Lan Xichen gave him a look that was full of sympathetic understanding. Uncle pulled at his beard and looked disapproving, but he too understood why Lan Wangji was recusing himself. There was no way he could be chosen, and therefore there could be no reason for him to compete except out of a desire to show off his own skills, and to flaunt one's skills without purpose was forbidden.

Separated from the rest of his delegation, Lan Wangji made his way to a corner of the field to watch the contests. There was a small ridge over on the northward side of the field that was shaded from the bright sun and snow-glare reflecting off the peaks, that offered a good view of the swordplay ring. Lan Wangji made for it; somewhat to his surprise, as he drew near, his chosen spot was already occupied.

It was Jiang Wanyin.

Jiang Wanyin was... not objectionable. Compared to most of their peers, he had been well-behaved at Cloud Recesses; at the very least, he seemed to take his duty as a representative of a Great Sect with the appropriate amount of gravitas. Lan Wangji might wish that Jiang Wanyin had been able to share some of that restraint with his sectmates, but he supposed it was the duty of every man to regulate himself. Despite an unfortunate association with Nie Huaisang, Jiang Wanyin had studied hard and managed acceptable grades. Lan Wangji had no quarrels with him.

So when Jiang Wanyin looked over and crossed his gaze, then raised a hand in a casual beckoning wave, Lan Wangji crossed the distance to take a seat beside him. If the grounds were too crowded for him to be alone, then he could at least choose his company.

In the field beyond, Lan Xichen was just lining up against an opponent in Nie Sect colors. The two cultivators bowed at each other, then moved in a clash of steel on steel. Both fighters were more than competent, but Lan Xichen moved with his characteristic effortless grace. In one fluid motion, he sent his opponent's weapon clattering to the field in a neat disarm, winning the first point in the match.

Beside him, Jiang Wanyin let out a low whistle. "He's good, isn't he?"

"Xiongzhang is good at everything. He is..." He took a moment to order his words before speaking; it was forbidden to speak ill of your family to outsiders. "A floating peak to strive for." Always visible, never reachable.

Jiang Wanyin surprised him with a bark of laughter. "Ha! I know what that's like."

Lan Wangji slanted him a look with a clear question in it. Jiang Wanyin waved in hasty demurral. "Not me, I mean... not that I'm good at everything. But I have an older brother, too, and he's always showing me up." He sighed gustily. "What's the point of trying to outrace Wei Wuxian? You might as well just give up at the starting line."

Wei Wuxian. The name did not sound familiar to Lan Wangji, not one of the Great Sects or old cultivation families. "I did not know the Jiangs had another son," he remarked.

"Oh, well..." Jiang Wanyin shifted uncomfortably. "He's my martial brother technically. But we were close." He scowled. "Honestly he's barely a year ahead of me! But the way he lords it over me, you'd think he was in line for the imperial throne!"

"Mm," Lan Wangji said, nodding sympathetically. "Brothers."

Jiang Wanyin laughed. "Yeah. Yeah, you said it!"

The morning wore on as the two of them sat together, watching the sword technique competitions; when one of the contestants made an especially good or bad move, Lan Wangji or Jiang Wanyin might comment on it. The rest of the time was spent in comfortable silence, or with Jiang Wanyin sharing stories of this Wei Wuxian.

It was clear from his tone that the other boy felt affection as well as annoyance for his martial brother. It left Lan Wangji feeling faintly envious; he did not have that relationship with any of his sect-brothers. His position, his personality, all combined to set him apart from his peers.

He was just starting to relax, watching the contests with interest, when a voice spoke loudly from directly behind them. "Hey, Jiang Cheng! So this is where you're hiding! And who's this? Lan-er-gongzi?"

A grey-clad shape barged between the two of them and an arm draped heavily over Lan Wangji's shoulders. He would have shaken it off roughly, perhaps even ejected the newcomer firmly from his space -- but he recognized the voice, and it froze him to the spot.

"Wei Wuxian!" Jiang Wanyin growled. He shook off the arm over his own shoulders with no such compunctions, sending the grey-clad figure staggering back from a push, laughing. "In three years haven't you learned one ounce of dignity? I know it's too much to ask that you treat me with some respect, but don't hang all over Lan Wangji like that!"

Wait.

Wei Wuxian? Jiang Wanyin's brother, Wei Wuxian?

Lan Wangji turned and found his worst fears confirmed: the silver-eyed qilin was standing between them, laughing freely at Jiang Wanyin's steady stream of complaint. The way the two of them shoved at each other, one pouncing playfully and the other meeting them halfway... that was years of familiarity, there.

Hadn't Lan Xichen said... something about the lost qilin spending years in Yunmeng territory? Long enough to pick up the accent, long enough that the family there had thought of him as one of their own? He could have mentioned that the family in question was none other than the Jiang Sect --

"Wei Wuxian," Lan Wangji said, and his voice sounded flat even to himself. "The qilin of Wu. He is the one you called your elder brother? The one you complained about hogging the blankets in winter?"

"Yeah," Jiang Wanyin said, giving the other b -- the qilin a glower at the reminder.

"My feet got cold!" Wei Wuxian protested. "What was I supposed to do, just let them freeze solid? Walk around on two big blocks of ice all the next day?"

"Serve you right if you did," Jiang Wanyin said unsympathetically.

Lan Wangji remembered another one of Jiang Wanyin's stories. "You pushed the qilin of Wu -- the messenger of Heaven -- into a lake," he said.

Against all reason Jiang Wanyin smiled. "Yeah, he bounces real good," he agreed.

The qilin popped up over his shoulder. "To be fair I pushed him in first!" he chirped.

The two of them fell to bickering once more as Lan Wangji tried to get his mind working again. His thoughts felt stuck, like a wagon wheel in a muddy rut, unable to turn or move backwards or forward. The qilin of Wu liked to steal blankets in the winter. The messenger from Heaven was a show-off at kite-shooting. The divine paragon of righteousness liked his soup so drenched with chilis that not even spice-loving Yunmeng natives could stand to eat it --

None of this made any sense according to Lan Wangji's conception of the world... and yet there they were.

"What are you even doing here, anyway?" Jiang Wanyin said, and his curt rudeness was just another pail of icy water to throw over Lan Wangji's already drenched and dripping composure. "Isn't this whole entire circus for your benefit? Aren't you supposed to be up front watching?"

"I am watching!" Wei Wuxian protested. "I'm watching very seriously! I can't get a good angle on all the different contests from up on that stupid platform, now can I? If you want to get a sense of the action, you have to get on the action's level!"

Lan Wangji just sat there, watching them, still trying to process the abrupt inversion of propriety. This was all wrong. This was not how the qilin was supposed to act, this was not how people were supposed to act towards the qilin and yet -- and yet --

The qilin was smiling now, like he hadn't smiled at all through the entire day of ceremonies. Smiling the same way he'd smiled the first night Lan Wangji had met him, like the sun was coming up, like little creatures stirring with the first warmth after a long cold winter. If this was the radiance of Heaven, then how could anything that caused it be wrong?

"Jiang Cheng, I'm hungry," the radiance of Heaven whined.

Jiang Wanyin sighed in a way that suggested that this was entirely expected, and rifled through his sleeves while the qilin hung off his shoulders. "Let me guess, you slept in and skipped breakfast?" he said. "Honestly, an entire staff to pick up after you and it still ends up being my job."

"I can usually sneak down to the kitchen and wheedle something out of the cooks," Wei Wuxian said. He took a huge bite out of the baozi, and spoke again around a mouthful of half-chewed dough. "It's not my fault everyone's so busy and hectic with all the guests and ceremonies and stuff --"

"It actually is exactly your fault," Jiang Wanyin said. "Also, shut your mouth when you eat! Gross."

"Lan Zhan!" And then the qilin was hanging all over him again, ignoring all of Jiang Wanyin's objections. "Do you have food, too?"

For the first time in his life, Lan Wangji found himself wishing that he had thought to store extra provisions in his sleeves. He had the room for them, even. If only he had been able to pull out a mantou on request, present it to Wei Wuxian, get a delighted smile aimed at him in return -- but no. "I do not."

"You must!" Wei Wuxian insisted. "I can smell it, it smells so good! What food are you hiding!"

He actually went so far as to grab at Lan Wangji's sleeves, sticking one hand into the drapery to feel around for hidden compartments. Lan Wangji froze, shocked solid, utterly at a loss as to how to react.

Jiang Wanyin grabbed the back of the qilin's robe with what looked like long practice. "Quit it, stop molesting the Second Jade of Lan!" he snapped. "If he says he doesn't have food, he doesn't have any food."

"But I can smell it!" Wei Wuxian hung onto Lan Wangji's shoulder, hands linked loosely around his neck, resisting the pull. He leaned forward, sending Lan Wangji somehow further into a white-out state, and sniffed. "It's delicious, like... like cinnamon? Cloves? Lan Zhan, have you been cooking with five-spice powder?"

"He doesn't smell like anything!" Jiang Wanyin declared, and pulled Wei Wuxian back with a heave. "Stop acting like a kid!"

Wei Wuxian relinquished his hold, not without a pout. Despite his shock, Lan Wangji was a little sorry.

When several more attempts at conversation received no reply, Wei Wuxian seemed to give up on him and focus on Jiang Wanyin instead, falling into a comfortable bicker. Once the qilin's attention was safely away from him, Lan Wangji took a moment to raise his sleeves in a discreet sniff -- but whatever it was that had so delighted Wei Wuxian, he couldn't smell it.

After the opening ceremonies, Wei Wuxian no longer bothered to attend his high station most of the time. It became much easier to ditch his handlers once he figured out how to infuse a paperman with a little bit of spiritual energy, stick it discreetly to the back of the chair, and slip out when everyone's eyes were on the archery contestants. He realized on the first day that after the opening remarks, nobody talked to him all day; certainly nobody expected him to talk to them. All he was supposed to do was sit up there in the bright sun and swelter, and watch the cultivators try to knock each other around.

Well, he could watch that just as well from the north edge of the field, couldn't he -- in the shade, with peanuts and sweetened tea, and in much better company.

Jiang Cheng came to the north edge of the field every day, and so did Lan Zhan. After the first couple of days Nie Huaisang also joined them there -- Wei Wuxian was delighted to meet a friend of Jiang Cheng's from Cloud Recesses! To think of it, his shidi making a friend all his own!

Nie Huaisang was avoiding his own brother, Nie Mingjue, for fear that he would be pressed into the races and saber demonstrations. "No thanks," he said fervently. "I'm definitely not going to be chosen anyway, so what's the point of running around and getting all sweaty?"

"Why are you so sure you won't be the one?" Jiang Cheng said skeptically.

Nie Huaisang laughed. "Jiang-xiong, can you even just imagine me as xiandu? Giving orders to people? They'd run me off the mountain," he said with great confidence. "No, if the next ruler is going to be a Nie, it'll definitely be da-ge."

"Mm," Lan Zhan said with a nod. "Xiongzhang is far more qualified."

Well, that explained what he was doing here; Wei Wuxian didn't think he agreed, but he was just happy that Lan Zhan kept coming back. Lan Zhan was, as far as Wei Wuxian was concerned, the bee's knees. He was quiet most of the time, but if you could get him going, he was so funny! Did anybody else even realize how funny Lan Zhan was? And he was a great listener, and he looked like he'd stepped out of a light-painting, and he smelled fantastic.

After the first day when he'd been so sure Lan Zhan was hiding food in his sleeves, Wei Wuxian had to conclude that Lan Zhan just smelled like that all the time. Maybe it was something about the incense they burned at Cloud Recesses (although none of the other Lans smelled like that, so maybe not.) Maybe it was the lotion he used in his hair. Whatever it was Wei Wuxian couldn't get enough of it, and he was constantly finding excuses to sit near Lan Zhan and discreetly sniff him, throw an arm around his shoulders, bump their knees together. Lan Zhan always froze up like a bunny under the shadow of a hawk and Wei Wuxian ought to feel bad, but he just couldn't help the urge to be close.

"Well, we've already determined that I'm definitely not going to be the next xiandu," Jiang Cheng, glaring directly at Wei Wuxian as he said that, who put his hands up in surrender. "So I guess that makes three of us."

Nie Huaisang smiled broadly. "We can form a club!" he said. "The Definitely Not Going To Be King Club. I nominate myself as event planner."

Wei Wuxian was delighted. "Me too!" he exclaimed. "I can, hmm, I can keep minutes!"

The other three stared at him in disbelief. Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. "What?" Wei Wuxian said defensively.

"You can't be part of the club, you're the qilin," Nie Huaisang exclaimed.

"That's exactly why!" Wei Wuxian said. "I'm the one who has to choose the king, so I can't be the king. Of every person on the planet right now, I am the only one that we can be absolutely, positively, one-hundred-percent sure can't be chosen to be king."

"Logical," Lan Zhan admitted.

"Okay, well," Jiang Cheng huffed. "This does mean that sooner or later, you are going to have to do your job in choosing a king, yeah? So maybe you should spend less time with us, the ones who are definitively not candidates, and get back up on the platform?"

"He does have a point," Nie Huaisang murmured, fanning himself gently. He expected Lan Zhan to jump in with an agreement -- so dedicated to the rules, Lan Zhan! -- but the other boy said nothing. "Not that I don't enjoy your company, Wei-renshou, but don't you have to see what all the candidates are capable of in order to pick the best one?"

"See, that's the thing," Wei Wuxian said. He fidgeted with his flask of tea, took a gulp from it in order to avoid having to meet any of their eyes. "I'm not going to pick one at all."

Stunned silence from the other three. Lan Zhan looked slightly perturbed, which was as good as a dramatic faint on anyone else. Nie Huaisang looked like he genuinely might faint. Jiang Cheng looked momentarily devastated, then -- as usual -- he began to get angry. "Don't get me wrong! It's not a question of refusing to pick!" he protested, flinging up a hand to forestall the incoming tirade.

"They say that the qilin chooses, but the truth is that it's not up to me at all. Xiao-ge explained it to me. Heaven picks the xiandu -- not us." He tapped his forehead. "We just wait for their will to be revealed, then pass that on to mortals. It's got nothing to do with my choice at all, I'm just waiting for the sign."

"The sign?" Nie Huaisang said, beginning to look more interested than dismayed. "How does that work? Do you, like, hear a voice?"

"I don't know, I've never gotten a sign before," Wei Wuxian said, and sighed. "Xiao-ge said that it's different for different qilin. He says he sees it like an aura -- but others hear something, like a bell or a chorus of voices around the right person. Or whatever."

"And... you haven't heard or seen any kind of sign yet?" Jiang Cheng squinted at him suspiciously.

"Nope! I've got nothing!" Wei Wuxian smiled brightly. "Maybe it's one of the guys from the sects that haven't arrived yet?"

"Or perhaps the one you seek is not among the candidates at all," Lan Wangji murmured thoughtfully. "Heaven is blind to mortal politics. Perhaps you should look lower, not higher."

"Among the servants, you mean?" Wei Wuxian sighed again. "It's worth a shot. But until I get the sign, I'm just spinning my wheels. Might as well do it here, with my favorite people."

Nie Huaisang smiled, clearly pleased to earn such an appellation from such an exalted person. Jiang Cheng just rolled his eyes, although Wei Wuxian knew enough to know that he was pleased, too. And Lan Zhan... Lan Zhan looked completely blank, as usual. But, ah ha! The tips of his ears were turning just the lightest shade of pink.

Lan Zhan really was just so much fun to tease.

~tbc...

Chapter Text

The days wore on. The contests ran to their inevitable conclusion, then started up again from the beginning. (There wasn't much else for the visiting cultivators to do, and it didn't take much prompting to entice the losers to a rematch.) Rumblings of discontent began to sound from the amassed cultivators: what was taking so long?

Wei Wuxian wished he knew. Seven days, several hundred new people parading in front of him, and still hadn't seen or heard anything that could be taken as a sign from Heaven. In the absence of that, what else could he do?

Nie Huaisang, when asked, just hid his face and repeated that he didn't know. Lan Zhan wouldn't say, but Wei Wuxian knew he harbored a secret theory that the fated xiandu was among the servants, not the gentry. (Lan Zhan was a secret romantic, really.) Jiang Cheng, more practical, pointed out that there were still several minor sects who hadn't arrived yet. It was traditional to hold off on the actual selection until they were all gathered, so that no one could claim they'd been shut out of the process. But the Chang clan still hadn't shown, and nobody knew what was keeping them so long.

Feeding all the guests was starting to turn into a challenge. Several of the clans had sent expeditions down the mountains to bring up more supplies. Others had seized on the opportunity to combine logistics with yet more competition; they began to schedule hunts, ranging out along the wild slopes of the mountains, and made it a contest to see who could bring back the biggest game.

Wei Wuxian kind of wished he could go. He missed it. Well... not for the actual hunting part; he'd never been able to bring himself to actually capture any of the pheasants or rabbits he stalked, and now he knew why. But it would have been nice to have a chance to get out of the shrine, to get out of the crowds that constantly pressed on him, hundreds of eyes turning to him in expectation every hour.

He still ducked out of the ceremonies every chance he got. What was the point in staying, after all? He'd already met every candidate the Great Sects had to offer, and none of them were going to be xiandu. Why not spend the time with the cream of the crop, instead?

Even if Jiang Cheng was off doing important Deputy Sect Leader business stuff today, and Nie Huaisang had been commandeered by his brother to go on a hunt for wild boar. (Wei Wuxian wished him luck with it. Honestly, as averse as Nie Huaisang was to violence, you'd think he was a qilin.)

That left only Lan Zhan to keep him company.

Which, honestly, was plenty for Wei Wuxian! Lan Zhan was a lot of fun, if only fun to pester and prod until he managed to get a reaction. He kind of missed the icy, haughty Lan Wangji from the first night they met; the overawed, deferential Lan Wangji who'd replaced him was a lot less fun. But day after day Wei Wuxian was wearing him down, the exaggerated veneration that Lan Zhan offered him was beginning to thin out, revealing the bitchy edges that just fascinated Wei Wuxian.

"Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan," he said, hanging off the other boy's shoulders. "Won't you spar with me again? We had fun that first night, didn't we?"

"No," Lan Zhan said, one word fielded with a chilly finality. "Absolutely improper."

"But Lan Zhan! It's important!" Wei Wuxian protested. "Nobody else will spar with me! How am I supposed to keep in practice? I used to be on the track for Jiang Sect's First Disciple, you know. If I go on much longer with no sparring partner I'll get rusty."

"Good," Lan Zhan said mercilessly, and removed Wei Wuxian from his shoulder. Wei Wuxian pouted at him, flopping down to the ground next to him.

"No, it's not good! Lan Zhan, be serious! What if an assassin crept into my room at night and tried to kill me?" Wei Wuxian exclaimed, throwing himself on his side and propping his chin up on one palm. "I'd have to defend myself then! What if I couldn't, and I died? That would be just terrible!"

Lan Zhan actually shuddered at that, which was more of a reaction than Wei Wuxian had honestly expected. Well, it made sense, he reasoned; if he died, then Wu Kingdom would be out of luck for another however-many years until the new qilin was born. "Don't joke about that," Lan Zhan said in an ice-cold voice.

"I'm just saying! It could happen!"

"Anyone who raised their blade against the qilin would be struck down by the heavens for blasphemy," Lan Zhan said. "So, stop asking."

"But Lan Zhan!" Wei Wuxian grinned. He rolled onto his belly, both fists propping up his jaw, and grinned up cheekily at Lan Zhan while he kicked his feet. "You already dueled me once, and there have been no bolts of lightning or anything! So you might as well spar with me now. I mean, you can't be any more damned, can you? Might as well spare some poor other soul the same fate!"

Lan Zhan stood up and stalked away, back stiff with outrage. Wei Wuxian rolled on the ground, laughing. Lan Zhan really was just too funny!

He let him go; Lan Zhan needed some time to compose himself before Wei Wuxian started up a new round. Anyway he hadn't gone far -- just to the far edge of the clearing, in among the trees. Wei Wuxian turned to face the competition field again while he waited. They were doing shadow-boxing right now, which was at least vaguely interesting to watch -- at least it wasn't just the same set of moves over and over.

He was just in the middle of trying to remember whether the Ouyang contestants were the ones in blue, or the ones in maroon, when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned and saw he was no longer alone; a young woman in garnet-colored robes had come up beside him. When she saw him looking she dropped into a deep genuflection, and Wei Wuxian sighed and stepped forward.

"Get up, get up," he said, urging her to her feet again. Heavens, she was tiny; even with her updo and guan she barely came up to his collarbone. She eyed him warily as he pulled her straight and held on to her hands, and he gave her a winning smile. "There, that's better! Now, young lady, what can I help you with?"

"Your Holiness," she began, clutching at the cuffs of her sleeves and not quite daring to look him in the eye. "Righteous messenger of heaven -- I hoped, I wanted to talk to you, to -- to beg you for your kindness, to throw myself on your mercy --"

She made as though to drop to the ground again, and Wei Wuxian had to dive to take her arms. "Whoa! No throwing is necessary, miss," he said encouragingly. "What's your name, anyway?"

She darted a glance up to meet his eyes. "This -- this one is called Wen Qing," she said after a moment's hesitation.

"Wen, eh?" Wei Wuxian paused to consider that. He had not seen this girl among the crowd at the Saluting Ceremony, but it had been a big crowd. She easily could have disappeared into the back of it. "Any relation to Wen Ruohan?"

"Some, but the relationship is -- distant," Wen Qing admitted. "My family is but a minor branch, born far from Qishan. I hail from Dafan."

"Oh, I think I've heard of Dafan Shan. One of Pengshan's close neighbors, if I recall," Wei Wuxian said. "So what seems to be the trouble?"

Wen Qing's face seemed to crumple in on itself. "Please, renshou -- my aunt is sick. I think -- " Her breath caught, she continued in a steadier voice. "She's growing weaker every day, and I think she doesn't have much time left. No medicine or treatment we've tried has been able to heal her. My family sent me here on one last hope -- to beg the aid of the heavenly qilin, to plead for a miracle from Heaven."

"Oh. Oh no." A pang of sympathy speared through his chest, followed by one of sorrow. "I'm so sorry, Wen-guniang. I wish I could help you, but I don't know much about medicine at all."

To his surprise, Wen Qing raised her chin in pride. "I am a doctor myself," she said. "I've tried everything, everything that mortal man can try. The only thing that's left is the miraculous power of the qilin. The ancient scriptures say that even the touch of a qilin can heal, that water blessed by them becomes magic medicine, that their tears can bring even the dead to life."

Wei Wuxian blinked. "I, uh, I can't say I've ever tried that," he said. If he'd managed to bring dead creatures back to life back in Lotus Pier, after all, his identity wouldn't have stayed a mystery nearly as long as it had.

"Please, will you come to my village?" Wen Qing reached out as if to grasp at his sleeve, but then pulled her hand back at the last moment. "It's not far at all, it won't take long. I'm afraid my aunt has so little time left."

"Well, I suppose..." He hesitated. He shouldn't really leave the ceremony. He wasn't supposed to leave the shrine at all, honestly. If any of the attendants caught wind of this, he'd be back in his quarters before he could blink!

But, he was already skipping his duties, wasn't he? None of the attendants knew he was over here, talking to this poor girl. If her village was that close, surely he could go and come back and never be missed. If he could help someone, he had to do so, didn't he? Wasn't that what being a qilin was all about?

Before he could say yes, he saw Lan Zhan approaching -- he hadn't gone far, after all. Lan Zhan regarded the newcomer with a cool unfriendliness, glancing her up and down before returning his attention fully to Wei Wuxian. "Wei Ying. Who is this?" he asked.

Wen Qing startled at Lan Zhan's sudden appearance, which Wei Wuxian couldn't really blame her for; Lan Zhan was a lot to take in, enough to blind the uninitiated! "This is Wen Qing, of the Dafan Wen, who came to me for help. She's got a sick aunt that she thinks I can cure. How far is Dafan Mountain Village from here, again?" he asked, turning to Wen Qing.

"Ah --" She looked at Lan Zhan, hesitated, and then looked back at him. "About two hundred li to the north and west."

"Two hundred li, hmm? It's probably shorter by air," he mused. "We could go there and be back in a few hours, in time for dinner."

"No." Lan Wangji shook his head. "You cannot leave the shrine."

It wasn't anything he didn't know, it was the same thing he'd just been telling himself, but he still grew irritated hearing someone else tell him what he could and couldn't do. "Lan Zhan, they don't need me!" he argued. "They're entertaining themselves just fine with their contests and their posturing. I'll be back before they even know I'm gone."

"It is not safe," Lan Zhan insisted.

"Ah, renshou, who is this?" Wen Qing asked tentatively.

"Oh, my manners!" Wei Wuxian slapped himself on the head, then turned to introduce them. "Wen Qing, this is Lan Zhan, courtesy Wangji, of the Gusu Lan. He's my best friend!"

He emphasized that last by slinging his arm over Lan Zhan's shoulders, beaming. He must have been wearing Lan Zhan down over the past week, because the other boy didn't dispute this pronouncement or even shrug Wei Wuxian's arm away. Instead he turned to Wei Wuxian with a terribly earnest expression and said, "If you must go, I will accompany you. You should not be unguarded."

"Oh --" Wen Qing protested, sounding flustered. "Lan-gongzi -- it's not necessary for you to trouble yourself --"

"Don't be silly! Taking a vacation is no trouble," Wei Wuxian insisted. "I know that if I could use some peace and quiet, Lan Zhan needs it twice as bad. We'll all go, and be back in time for supper!"

Wen Qing looked from one of them to the other, then apparently decided it was a lost cause to try to separate them. She lowered her eyes to the ground and bowed again, this time including both of them. "Of course," she murmured. "As you say, renshou."

"Enough of this renshou business, anyway," he said, as the three of them began to sneak away from the contest fields. "Call me Wei Wuxian!"

They snuck to the edge of the shrine, in the direction away from the game fields; Wei Wuxian made use of his familiarity with the maze-like walls of the shrine to keep out of sight of anyone else. It wasn't until they were standing at the edge of a gully, the shrine behind them and the clear air ahead of time, that it occurred to Wei Wuxian that he didn't have Suibian. He wasn't permitted to wear it to the opening ceremony each morning, and he hadn't thought to go back to his room to get it after sneaking away.

"Can you not transform?" Lan Zhan asked, when this was explained to him. He and Wen Qing still had their swords; he was the odd man out.

"Ah... ha ha..." It was a reasonable question. Wei Wuxian didn't have an entirely reasonable answer to it. "Well, but aren't we trying to stay out of sight for now? If someone notices three figures flying on swords from far off, that's one thing, but the shape of a flying deer is much harder to mistake."

"That would be quite distinctive, my lord," Wen Qing murmured encouragingly. She seemed to thrum with a tense energy, anxious for them to be on their way back to her village. Worried for her aunt, almost certainly.

"Besides, who needs to ride the winds when I can ride Lan Zhan?" He gave the Lan an outrageous wink, mildly disappointed when he didn't get a blush in return. "Lan Zhan! You're really strong, aren't you? You can carry this humble one on your sword for such a short distance!"

Lan Zhan stood stock-still, jaw set, and for a moment Wei Wuxian wondered if he'd finally tipped over the edge of the other boy's temper. His face stayed pale, but the top of his ears were flushing. Wow! Wei Wuxian had never seen someone get so mad their ears blushed before.

"Well, fine," he said, relenting with a theatrical sigh. He'd asked too much, this time. "If Lan Zhan can't do it, he can't do it. I guess we can try to sneak back all the way into the shrine, dodging attendants all the way, to get my sword and then come back and start all over again --"

"No need," Lan Zhan interrupted, and laid his sword before him. He stepped up onto it, hovering, and stretched out a hand in invitation to Wei Wuxian.

Which was what Wei Wuxian had secretly hoped for, so he didn't bother to hide his grin of delight as he bounded over to Bichen. "Hooray! Lan Zhan, you're the best!"

He hopped nimbly onto the sword and threw his arms around Lan Wangji -- a little more smothering than was really necessary just to keep hold in flight. Not like he was in danger of falling off, anyway. But this way he got to stand close to Lan Zhan, and snuggle against his warmth, and appreciate the rich silks of his robes and the frankly decadent embroidery of lace, and smell Lan Wangji's intoxicating scent all the way to Dafan.

Beside him, Wen Qing was mounting her own sword and preparing to take to the air. It was a pretty nice sword, Wei Wuxian noticed out of the corner of his eye, but most of his attention was otherwise occupied.

Huh. Lan Zhan's ears had only gotten more red.

The flight to Dafan Shan didn't take long at all; Lan Zhan and Wen Qing were both strong fliers. The little village was nestled among the folds of the same mountain range as Pengshan, though lower down towards the plains and rivers. Where Pengshan could grow only summer herbs and scrubby alpine trees, Dafan Village was low enough to manage something like a decent crop.

Only decent, though. The fields that Wei Wuxian could pick out while flying down to the village were not wide, and the crops seemed a little scraggly compared to the lush vegetation Wei Wuxian was used to in Yunmeng. He estimated they were making enough to feed their own people each season, but not much more than that.

The village itself seemed to bear that out. The buildings and roads had been laid out with care along the eight cardinal directions, but the houses were humble and weathered. Wen Qing directed them towards what looked like the largest building in the small town, one of only a few that had a second story; Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji followed along behind.

They had set down in a clearing very close to the large house; it only took a few minutes of walking through the village to reach it. Wei Wuxian peered around curiously for the village's inhabitants -- he would have liked to meet his close neighbors -- but there didn't seem to be many people out at this time of the day.

"I hope that these humble surroundings do not offend, Wei-renshou," Wen Qing said, distracting him. Wei Wuxian quickly summoned up a smile for her.

"No, not at all," he said agreeably, and nodded towards the large house that they were approaching. It could be considered something of a country manor, if a simple one. Not out of the question for a distant relative of Wen-zongzhu. "Is this your house, Wen-guniang?"

"No, I live on the other side of town. This is my aunt's house," Wen Qing said, and showed them both inside.

The interior of the house was modestly appointed, but Wei Wuxian's attention was quickly arrested by a small room on the other side of a separating curtain; pulled back, there was a daybed in the room with an older woman lying on it and groaning in pain.

"Auntie, it's me," Wen Qing said, her voice softening from its usual pragmatic snap as she approached and knelt by the bed. "I've brought the qilin from Pengshan to heal you."

And that was Wei Wuxian's cue.

Approaching the bed, he felt suddenly nervous. Which was ridiculous! There was nothing to feel nervous about. He could totally do this! Admittedly, he'd never done it before, but he knew the theory!

Out of all the things the sages had taught him since his arrival at Peng Lu Gong three years before, the lessons on how to use qilin spiritual power to heal mortals had been the ones he'd attended most eagerly. It was one of a whole list of things that his spiritual power could do (including purifying water, which he'd apparently been doing for the whole river at Lotus Pier for years without realizing it) but it was the one that seemed most immediately useful.

The sages had hedged the lesson around with warnings about no matter how tempting it was, a qilin couldn't afford to spend all their time going around healing mortals. There were far too many people getting sick and wounded every day for one individual, even a heavenly messenger, to heal them all; it was more important to focus on getting the government back on track so that the overall health of the country improved and fewer people needed help in the first place. That was the only thing that had stopped him from running off into the night down to Lotus Pier and healing Shijie on the spot -- although if he'd heard news from Lotus Pier that she was ill, he might have gone in defiance of their orders anyway.

Well, he was going to get to use it today.

Wei Wuxian sat down on the day bed, turning sideways to be able to look at his patient. She had on an expression of careful respect over a fearful wariness, an all-too-familiar look from people who knew what he was. He gave her his sunniest, most reassuring smile, and reached down to take her wrinkled hand from under the coverlet.

With his left hand he raised her right up towards him, pulling her palm to rest on his shoulder. His own hand he placed on her forehead, creating a circuit between them, briefly and temporarily making her body part of his own network of meridians.

There was another version of this technique that he knew, that his teachers at the shrine had not taught him; he found it in one of the shrine's many books, and been soundly scolded and warned against using it. The healing ritual would be more potent, more effective if the patient placed their hand against his forehead -- the horn of the qilin was not visible in human form but it was still present. (Another childhood mystery solved; why Wei Wuxian had always hated hats, why it was always wildly uncomfortable to have anything resting against his forehead.) That was the source of his spiritual power, and it was more powerful directly from the font -- but there was also a risk, a danger, in letting a human that close to his horn. If they chose to try to seize it, they could potentially seize him in the process, and he would be bound and subjected to their will.

The warning had been delivered in strong enough terms that Wei Wuxian wasn't going to try it, after all. At least, not with a stranger. If it had been shijie --

Well, it wasn't, so it didn't matter. Wei Wuxian took a deep breath, centered the connection between him and the old woman, and cycled his spiritual energy.

A pulse of dark light flashed in the crowded room, surging from his body to the patient's and back again. He heard Wen Qing gasp softly at the sight, and even Lan Zhan let out a startled inhale. Then it was over; his spiritual power ebbed back to his own body again, only barely diminished. He frowned. Was that right? he thought. That barely did anything at all.

Wen Qing rushed forward as he stepped back, and began examining her aunt. One hand on her wrist to feel for the pulses as the other hand checked her forehead for temperature, looked in her eyes, smelled her breath. After a few moments she sat back on the edge of the chair and let out a long relieved sigh, then looked up at him. "It worked," she said. "She is cured. Her blood is strong and healthy once more. A thousand thanks, Your Holiness, for this boon."

"Thank you, Blessed One!" the auntie quavered, and tried her best to genuflect to him from the bed.

Wei Wuxian let out an awkward little laugh. "Please, there's no need for that," he said sincerely, putting out a hand to wave away their praise. "It was nothing." Almost literally nothing, really. He'd expected it to be a lot harder than that.

"Our village is in debt to its benefactor," Wen Qing announced. "We will host a banquet in your honor."

"Eh?" Wei Wuxian blinked. "Oh, no... you don't have to do that."

"We insist," Wen Qing said, exchanging a long look with her newly cured aunt. "For such an an exalted person to not only visit us, but to grant such a great blessing -- we would be criminally lax if we let you go without showing you honor."

"Okay, but... I didn't really do all that much," Wei Wuxian protested. "I mean, I'm very glad your auntie is feeling better now, but I actually think she would have been okay anyway? Her illness wasn't that bad, as long as she had a good doctor."

Wen Qing's expression went icy, her eyes flat. Wei Wuxian winced, kicking himself as he recalled that Wen Qing had introduced herself to him as a doctor. "Sorry, I just meant -- "

"Renshou," Wen Qing interrupted him, her voice slightly clipped. She bowed again, and stayed in the bow as she continued. "The face of our village depends on honoring the qilin as he deserves. We cannot possibly let you leave before the banquet."

"Well..." Wei Wuxian glanced at Lan Zhan, who was no help, his expression completely impassive. He gave in. "If you're sure."

Wen Qing straightened up again, but she didn't look terribly happy about it. "I will go and start the preparations. Please, enjoy our humble hospitality until then."

She bowed herself out. Wei Wuxian retreated from the sickroom to the main room of the manor house and then stood, at a loss for what to do next. Lan Zhan followed him out.

"Simple folk often enjoy parties," Lan Zhan offered after a moment. "Perhaps this is an excuse for them to find joy, also."

Wei Wuxian groaned theatrically, and threw himself down on the down-padded daybed. "Fine, fine!" he said. "I'll stay for the stupid banquet."

---

Time crept by, measured in the slow tilt of the sunbeams through the window. Lan Wangji actually pulled out a guqin and started to play, which made Wei Wuxian wish he had kept up on his dizi practice and could play along. But eventually, even watching Lan Wangji -- sitting in a sunbeam, posture perfect, hands dancing lightly over the strings of his instrument -- wasn't enough to overcome his restlessness, and he flung himself to his feet.

"Let's go explore the village and meet people!" he announced, and Lan Zhan quickly put away his instrument and stood to join him.

Not that there was all that much of a village to explore. Wei Wuxian wasn't sure, but he thought the entire village might not have been any bigger than the compound at Lotus Pier. Even then, they hardly met anyone on the road. Maybe they were all out working in the fields at this hour? But he hadn't seen them when they'd flown in, either.

It took him a few minutes of walking around to realize that the streets weren't only quiet; people were actively avoiding him. More than one person came around a corner only to see them, pale, and scuttle quickly away. Wei Wuxian saw one young child lingering in a doorway, staring at him openmouthed; he smiled and waved at the kid moments before their mother came hastily up behind them and swept them up, closing the door firmly.

"Wow, tough crowd," Wei Wuxian said with a shaky laugh.

Lan Zhan walked for a few more steps in silence before he spoke again. "Awe and fear come one breath apart," he offered. "They react to a mirage of you. They do not know the real you."

For someone who didn't talk much, Lan Zhan really had a way with words, Wei Wuxian mused. "That's nice to say," he said aloud. "But I think it's the whole banquet thing. This place is really poor, and the villagers have to work hard every day. Now they have to work even harder, and throw away food they don't have to spare!"

"They have committed to doing it," Lan Zhan said.

"I know, I know," Wei Wuxian said, waving it away with a sigh. "I just feel bad that they're getting next to nothing in return. Well... not like that lady's health is nothing. But I feel like I should do more. Hey!" A sudden thought struck him, brightening his day. "Let's see if we can find their well. I can bless it, so nobody will get sick from that water!"

He darted off. He heard Lan Zhan sigh, but his footsteps followed.

Wei Wuxian prowled the village looking for the well, ignoring the twinges in his chest every time a villager ducked out of his sight. Near the edge of the village something caught his attention: not a well, but a house that stood out from the others. The little house was surrounded on three sides by garden plots, yet the plants that grew there bore neither fruit nor flowers. Medicinal herbs? They were certainly potent, a sharp piney smell that he could detect even from far off.

"I think this is Wen Qing's house," he remarked to Lan Zhan, who nodded agreement. Curiosity overcame him, and he decided to poke around the back.

The little house was oddly lopsided. The fourth side, around the back, formed an overhang over a pit that had been dug a few feet into the ground. A sturdy grating lashed in place over the opening formed a sort of pen, half in the ground and half open to the air, cut off by the grating.

Wei Wuxian moved up to the grating, squinting into the darkness to try to make out what kind of animal Wen Qing was keeping in a pen behind her house -- only to jump back, started, when a human arm thrust suddenly through the grate and clawed towards his face, accompanied by a viscous ripping snarl.

"Wei Ying!" In a flash Lan Zhan was there, pushing Wei Wuxian behind him with one arm while the other went to his sword. He drew it a few inches, then paused as the arm dropped back again. More guttural noises sounded from the pen beyond, noises of anger and frustration -- but they could not reach past the grating.

Heart pounding, Wei Wuxian inched forward and called up a quick light talisman, sending it shooting into the pen. It hit the far wall and stuck there, illuminating a horrifying sight.

It was not an animal being kept in the pen but a human -- if that was what he truly was. Its form was that of a young man, dressed in simple homespun clothes -- but the eyes, peeking out from between masses of matted black hair, shone a solid milky white. The young man flinched away from the light, cowering against the side of the pen. The silvery light illuminated black veins crawling up his arms and neck and face, fingers sharpened to claws. He did not speak, only letting out more of those unintelligible growls and moans.

"Be careful," Lan Zhan told him, his voice low and tense. "This is Yin Metal poisoning."

"Yin Metal contamination? Here?" Wei Wuxian exclaimed. "I've heard about it but I've never seen it!"

"One case was brought to Cloud Recesses, years ago," Lan Zhan explained. "I have never seen a case this far advanced. He is completely lost to its corruption. Wei Ying, do not get close."

"Maybe I should -- " Wei Wuxian started to say. He took one step forward. The young man launched himself forward with a horrible snarl, hands clawing at the air, and Wei Wuxian stopped short again.

"Wen Ning! No!" a cry pierced the scene. Wen Qing appeared around the corner of her house, her robes in disarray and hair beginning to come out of its tight updo. Her face was wild, her eyes shining with fear. "Don't hurt him!"

"Wen-guniang." Lan Zhan's cold tone stopped her in her tracks, and the two of them stared at each other. Lan Zhan drew himself up to his full height, one hand on his sword, and nodded towards the pen. In an icy tone he said, "What is the meaning of this?"

"Don't hurt him," Wen Qing repeated, quieter now. She inched around the two strangers towards the grating, until she could lay her hand on the top bars. "He's -- he's my little brother."

Looking closer now Wei Wuxian could see that despite the messy hair and the wild behavior, the young man's clothes were warm and well-mended, and his skin was not as dirty as might be expected. There was plenty of clean, straw-stuffed bedding in the space, and kicked over to one corner Wei Wuxian caught a glimpse of a colorful jian zi. The young man -- more of a boy really, he couldn't be more than fifteen -- might not be in possession of his senses, but it was clear that he was loved and cared for.

His heart went out to the siblings. Shijie would have done the same, he was sure, for him or for Jiang Cheng. "Lan Zhan, look, he's just a kid," he said quietly. "Maybe I can help him."

Lan Zhan looked at him, then shook his head slowly. "There is no cure for this condition," he said, his deep voice imbued with quiet sorrow. "By the edict of the Wood-Cutters Alliance, those afflicted by Yin Metal Poisoning must be put down."

"No! I have it under control, I swear!" Wen Qing insisted. "He won't hurt anyone! He's never hurt anyone else!"

"How long ago was he poisoned?" Wei Wuxian said.

Wen Qing's lips thinned. "Five years," she said. "I've managed to slow the progression with medicines, but -- "

"But there is no medicine to dispel it," Lan Zhan interrupted. "Wen-guniang. I am sorry for your loss. But you must realize your brother is gone. It would be a kindness --"

"What kind of kindness is that supposed to be?" Wen Qing cried out, her temper flaring. "Who are you to say what's best from him? You aren't his family! He's all right, he's calm on most days, when strangers don't come stirring him up. He's alive! That's what matters most! So long as he's alive, there's still... still a chance..." Her voice caught in a sob.

Wei Wuxian felt like the ground had shifted just slightly, several things clicking into place. Wen Qing's odd, shifty behavior ever since their first meeting. The puzzling matter of her auntie, who was not nearly as sick as she had claimed. Her repeated insistence that the qilin could not leave the village until the banquet.

"Ah, I think I begin to see," he said aloud, and nodded to himself. He pointed at her and wagged his finger chidingly. "Wen Qing, you've been very naughty! This whole 'sick aunt' story was just a ruse, wasn't it?"

All the color drained out of Wen Qing's face, leaving her skin ashen-pale, and she thumped down onto her knees in the street. Her eyes shone fever-bright.

"You actually wanted me to come here to cure your brother, didn't you!" Wei Wuxian concluded happily. He gave her his best, nicest smile. "But you couldn't say so out loud, because of the edict. Don't worry! We won't tell anyone!"

Her lips parted, but no sound emerged. She dropped even further, pressing her palms against the dusty ground. "I --" Her voice shook. "Please, i-if you can help my brother -- I would do anything."

He started to move forward, but Lan Zhan caught his arm. "Wei Ying, do not risk yourself," he said quietly. "Yin Metal poisoning has no cure. What she is asking is impossible."

Wei Wuxian frowned at him, shaking off his grasp. "And what is a qilin for, if not to do the impossible?" he challenged. "What's the point of having a gateway of Heaven into the world, if not to help people who don't have any other hope? What else is the point of me?"

Fortunately, Wen Qing wasn't wrong when she claimed she could manage her brother. Privately Wei Wuxian had doubted just a little bit, because despite the age difference her brother already towered a foot over her and had considerably more muscle. But she had her ways; within five minutes Wei Wuxian found himself sitting cross-legged on a cushion opposite the boy -- Wen Ning, his sister said his name was -- who was still and docile thanks to the expert application of her acupuncture needles.

On closer examination, Wen Ning's body was completely inundated with dark, sluggish yin energy. The first thing Wei Wuxian tried was the same healing method he'd used on the auntie, flooding his patient with spiritual energy in an effort to flush the dark energy out.

The attempt failed almost immediately; the yin energy roiled, sloshing around the boy's meridians, but seemed unwilling to leave his body. His own spiritual energy, finding the vessel already filled, snapped back on him with a force that left him stinging. Wei Wuxian hissed a bit and pulled back, frowning and considering the problem.

If he couldn't solve the issue by pushing, what if he pulled instead? Tentatively he stretched out a hand to just above Wen Ning's skin and tried it. The yin energy responded quickly, almost eagerly, reaching back towards his hand -- there was a warning prickle in his palm, an almost scalding sensation, that had him breaking off that attempt just before it could make contact. Inviting all this poisonous energy into his body instead didn't seem like a good idea. His spiritual energy and qilin nature might be able to purge it; then again, it might not.

Still, the eager attraction that the yin energy had shown to his own spiritual energy gave him an idea. He rummaged around until he found some parchment, and began to draw on it in quick strokes. He paused for a moment, frowning; there was not really any talisman which would do exactly what he wanted, so he was going to have to improvise. What he wanted was a malevolence-repelling charm, he decided, but inside out -- the principle was the same, but the direction reversed...

He finished drawing the characters, outlined it in the shape of a little man, drawing an unbroken loop around it to keep the energy inside the circle from spilling out. Then he primed it with a little bit of his own spiritual energy -- just enough that the resulting paperman would look like a qilin to any resentful energy nearby.

This time when he reached out to Wen Ning, he did it through the paperman. Sure enough, the yin energy practically leaped out of the boy's body into the paper, seeking the spiritual energy captured inside; once there it was stuck inside the circle like a trout in a fish-trap, circling endlessly with nowhere else to go.

With his new cleansing-talisman Wei Wuxian was able to draw a truly astonishing amount of yin energy out of the teenager's body. Dispelling this later was going to take some careful work -- but that was for later. For now, he could watch the black veins slowly retreat up the boy's arms and down his neck in real-time, which gave him a thrill of excitement. He was doing it!

Wei Wuxian wasn't sure how long he spent on this work -- lost in concentration it could have been minutes, could have been hours. He was only vaguely aware of Wen Qing and Lan Zhan hovering behind him, radiating concern. But after a long enough time, he noticed that he wasn't making as much progress as he should.

The amount of yin energy in his talisman trap was increasing -- so much so, in fact, that he had to put his first one aside before it became dangerously unstable and draw two more. But the amount of corruption in Wen Ning's body didn't seem to be decreasing. No, he decided after another pass, it was -- he could see it fading -- but then it came back after only a few minutes. The yin energy was regenerating from somewhere, someplace very close. In his room? On his clothes? He couldn't imagine that Wen Qing would permit such a harmful object to stay nearby the brother she loved so much. On his person?

"Wen Qing," he said -- the first time he'd spoken in a while, his voice slightly scratchy from how hard he'd been concentrating. "How did your brother become poisoned in the first place?"

Wen Qing bit her lip, but after a moment she answered. "Like I said, it was about five years ago," she said. "A dangerous demon-statue had been located in a cave near our village, completely saturated by yin energy. A young girl had already lost her soul to it. Cultivators came out from Nightless City to dispose of it, and the final battle was right in the town square.

"It all happened very fast. We didn't have enough warning or time to get everyone away. When the cultivators struck the final blow there was an explosion, and a cloud of dark energy washed outwards from it. It rolled over my brother, and -- and he collapsed. I had to drag him away. I was afraid he'd never wake up but when he did, the poisoning had already started."

"Hmm." The explanation didn't shed as much light as he'd hoped. According to Wen Qing, her brother hadn't been targeted or attacked directly by the demon -- he'd just been unlucky enough to be nearby. He thought of all the ways he'd heard that curses could be transferred; most of them involved a bite, a wound, or at the very least a touch...

But Wen Qing had said that when they'd slain the statue, there had been an explosion. Wei Wuxian had seen one or two explosions before. They often involved shrapnel, especially if the thing had been made of stone. Could Wen Ning have been struck by a flying piece of debris that had been contaminated by Yin energy?

He stopped his evil-stripping efforts for long enough to modify his talisman again. This was a little bit dangerous, in that it opened a channel between him and the talisman -- but he was pretty sure he could keep the energy from reaching him before it got to that point. But that channel allowed him to sense the flow of energy inside the boy's body, the surge and ebb and tugging currents.

With the talisman tucked into his palm he held his hand over each of Wen Ning's central qi points, searching for where the pulse of yin energy was strongest. Not from his stomach; nothing he'd eaten. Not from his lungs; nothing he breathed. Not from his heart or his throat. Higher...

Finally he felt it -- an insistent tug at his own energy near the crown of his head. Like following a current, he carefully guided the talisman to where it felt strongest -- a point underneath his hair, just behind his ear. There was something there -- incredibly small, barely the width of a hair, hiding among all the other dark hairs on his head. But despite its tiny size, it pulsed with enough yin energy to slay a herd of cows.

"Lan Zhan," he said without looking away, not wanting to lose it now that he'd found it. "Can you dispel malevolent energy?"

"Mm," Lan Zhan acknowledged; he heard the shifting of cloth and then a hollow thump of wood, the faintest chiming of strings. He didn't even ask questions; he was ready just with that! Lan Zhan was so cool.

He reached out with his own spiritual energy through the talisman. The shard of darkness vibrated ever more furiously, straining towards his bright warmth. Wei Wuxian increased the amount of energy he was channeling -- not too much, not too little, just enough for it to shake loose --

The splinter dislodged itself all at once, snapping with the speed of a bowstring released; even having expected it Wei Wuxian's reflexes were barely fast enough to pull back, to wrap the splinter in the talisman and seal it off tight. The paper darkened to black as though it had been thrust into a fire, the entire reservoir of dark energy filling and overfilling at once; Wei Wuxian dropped it like a hot coal, and it thumped to the ground as though it were filled with lead weights.

"Lan Zhan, now!"

Lan Zhan immediately began playing; Wei Wuxian didn't recognize the tune, but he recognized the power of the energy that came rolling off the strings in shimmering waves. They met the smoke that had begun emanating from Wei Wuxian's makeshift spirit-trapping pouch and dispelled it, wave after wave.

Lan Zhan had that in hand. Wei Wuxian turned back towards his patient. The source of the contamination was gone, but the corrosive effect it had on the boy's body was still there. But now his meridians were unblocked, his energy could flow. Wei Wuxian took the boy's unresisting hand and pulled it forward, ducking his head to fit his forehead against his palm; he rested his own palm over the boy's heart; and he pushed with the fiercest surge of spiritual energy he could muster.

Dark energy exploded outwards from Wen Ning, churning in agitated clouds of darkness; each wave of it met the cleansing energy from Lan Zhan's song, and withered into nothing. The last of the black veins paled and faded, leaving only silvery scars to mark where they would have been. In its place, red blood began to slowly creep back into his veins, flushing his skin a healthy living pink.

Wen Ning opened his eyes, dark and clear.

Wen Qing let out a cry of joy and threw herself forward, removing the needles with swift motions before pulling her brother into a hug. "A-Ning!" she sobbed, her shoulders shaking as she pulled him back and forth in a rocking motion, as though he were a young child half his size. "A-Ning, A-Ning, can you hear me? Can you speak?!"

The boy turned his head slowly, as though he were just awakening from a long sleep. His large, dark eyes blinked slowly, squinting as though against bright light as he looked over Wei Wuxian, kneeling across from him; Lan Wangji, standing behind him with his guqin at the ready; and his sister.

"A... jie?" he said uncertainly. His voice was surprisingly light and soft for his height, as if his breath was reluctant to venture from the safety of his chest. One arm came up, wavering, and hooked over his sister's shoulder. "What's wrong? Why... are you crying?"

Wei Wuxian sat back to watch the sibling reunion with deep, vast satisfaction. It was moments like these that made this whole qilin deal feel almost... worth it. Sure, maybe he couldn't return to Lotus Pier or to Jiang Yanli, but he could help reunite other kids with their jiejies, and wasn't that almost as good?

So much for the impossible! Wei Wuxian felt pretty proud of himself right now, in fact! Lan Zhan had told him there was no cure but there was, it just took some elbow grease and some careful application of talisman theory. Okay, a lot of elbow grease, maybe, and maybe that whole thing had honestly kinda taken it out of him. It had been years since his spiritual energy reserves had drawn so low, since fatigue had dragged on his limbs so.

He leaned back and stretched, feeling the muscles of his arm burn as his back popped and his neck clicked into place. He'd spent far too much time sitting in a hunched-over, cross-legged position and his spine was paying for it. There was a dangerous rumbling in his stomach, too, and Wei Wuxian found himself looking forward to dinner much more eagerly than before. "Whew!" he said, letting out an exaggerated breath that pulled Wen Qing and Lan Zhan's attention back towards him. "Aiyah, that really took it out of me! I think I'm ready for that banquet now."

Wen Qing abruptly pulled loose of her brother's embrace and was on her feet, sudden tension returning to coil her limbs tight. Her face was doing something strange, something he couldn't quite follow -- and then she was up in his personal space, shoving against his chest, dark eyes spitting sparks like flint.

"You're ready to get out," she snarled, and pushed him so hard he staggered back a step. She kept stepping forward, shoving him backwards as she hounded him out of the low shaded pen and out the back of the house. "Get lost! Get out of here! Now!"

Wei Wuxian stared at her in disbelief, unable to process this sudden switch to furious rejection. Lan Zhan interposed himself, thrusting one white sleeve between them as he turned to face Wen Qing with an expression like a thundercloud. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

"You get out too!" Wen Qing snapped. She whirled around towards her brother, who was only slowly climbing to his feet. "A-Ning! Go with them. Right now!"

"What?" Wei Wuxian said, bewildered. He looked over at Lan Zhan; his expression was stony, but his eyes were just as confused. He shook his head slightly.

Wen Ning however obeyed his sister without question, ducking his head as he climbed out of the little pen and went to stand with the two strangers. Wen Qing disappeared inside the house in the blink of an eye, then reappeared carrying a knapsack which she pushed into her brother's arms. "Take them both down by the old fire gulley, don't let anyone else see you," she ordered him. "Go with them, go somewhere safe, keep your head down. I'll find you later."

"Yes, a-jie," Wen Ning chirped obediently. Wen Qing gave the three of them one last, final shove -- a push with some spiritual power behind it, despite her tiny size Wei Wuxian found himself skidding several feet backwards -- then turned in a flurry of red sleeves and skirts and stormed off towards the center of the village.

"What is she talking about? What's going on?" Wei Wuxian demanded. "There was going to be a banquet! She promised!"

Wen Ning shrugged, a baffled expression on his face. "I don't know, gongzi," he said. "But she said to take the fire gulley, and I know where that is. If you'll follow me...?"

Wen Ning, at least, seemed to take the strangeness in stride; he set off behind the houses, heading downhill, and a bewildered Wei Wuxian and Lan Zhan followed.

The gulley -- there was evidence of past seasons of fires here, no doubt the source of the name -- dropped rapidly in elevation even as it curved away around the village. Within a hundred yards the three of them found themselves completely out of sight of the village above, even though they were close enough that a rock thrown from the top of the ridge would probably find them. Wen Ning led the way with a confident, long-time familiarity, and Wei Wuxian and Lan Zhan could do nothing but follow.

Before they had gone more than a li, however, Wen Ning was flagging; they stopped to rest under a cool overhang for a few minutes. Wen Ning rustled around in the knapsack and produced a large canteen of water, which he offered to them before drinking deeply himself.

Suddenly Lan Zhan grabbed at Wei Wuxian's arm, and as Wei Wuxian turned towards him pressed a finger against his lips. Wei Wuxian went nearly cross-eyed trying to look at it, but when Lan Zhan jerked his head towards the sky beyond the overhang, his gaze followed it.

His heart leapt into his throat; the sky over Dafan Mountain was thick with the shadows and sword-glares of flying cultivators in Wen red and white.

They watched from their hiding place as wave after wave of Wen soldiers landed in Dafan village, stationing themselves to surround the city square. In their current position they were out of sight, but close enough that sound still carried. They could hear the angry voices of unfamiliar men, and then that of Wen Qing, cutting clear through the mountain air.

"He's gone," they heard Wen Qing say. "He accepted the lure, just as planned, and arrived in the village earlier today. But after the patient was cured, he became restless and returned to Pengshan. I sent the signal hours ago. Why did you take so long to get here?"

Oh.

As he listened, the warm flush of victory faded from Wei Wuxian's body, and in its place he just felt incredibly stupid. And tired. And cold.

~tbc...

Chapter Text

Lan Wangji crouched under the overhang, listening to the traitorous Wens arguing overhead. The shape of the plot was rapidly becoming clear. Wen Qing, posing as a distressed maiden, was to approach the qilin with an appeal to his compassion, begging his help for a sick family member. Once lured to a remote village, it would be a simple matter to hold him there until soldiers arrived to take him captive. Cowardly and vile, to take advantage of such profound kindness, but what else could be expected?

Lan Wangji was more certain than ever that Wen Qing had not intended for him to come along; she had waited to approach Wei Ying until he seemed to be alone, and had been surprised by Lan Wangji's return to the conversation. But she must have decided that insisting he stay behind would look suspicious, and also that a single cultivator would not be too much trouble for the Wen forces to overcome.

She might have been right. But Lan Wangji was prepared to try, if it came to it, to defend Wei Ying. He could think of little in the world more worth dying for.

Lan Wangji glanced over at Wei Ying. The qilin's exuberant manner and smiling face had shut down, a fire banking to ashes. This betrayal had hurt him, Lan Wangji thought. For a creature of such kindness and generosity, being confronted by the ugliness of mankind was a harsh blow. Lan Wangji only wished he could have shielded him from discovering it at all.

Overhead, Wen Chao was now shouting at his men to search the village, investigate every house, threatening death to any villager who was caught sheltering the qilin. They should leave soon, he decided, before the Wens widened their search.

Turning to Wen Ning he asked, "Can we depart without being seen?"

"Um..." Wen Ning blinked at him, looking rather confused by all the proceedings. "I think so. This gully keeps on curving to the south, and then that cliff blocks the view from the village. What's going on? What is Cousin Chao doing here?"

Lan Wangji gave him a sharp look. "Do you feel loyal to your cousin?"

Wen Ning shook his head vigorously. "No, um, really not," he said. "Cousin Chao is an awful bully and Jiejie, well, she doesn't like him and it's mutual."

Wei Ying let out a short laugh. "At least you've both got good taste," he said. "Come on. Let's go."

It was slow work, creeping down the gully without making noise or straying out of cover, but Wen Ning proved a good guide. Even though they could hear the Wen soldiers talking from what seemed like an arm's length away, they were never spotted.

"Why does Cousin Chao want you, anyway?" Wen Ning asked, head cocked to the side as he listened to the orders and threats facing away behind them.

"Must be my charming personality," Wei Ying said. "I'm just that irresistible."

"He is the qilin of Wu," Lan Wangji said, almost at the same time.

Wei Ying shot him a wounded look. "Lan Zhan!" he said.

Lan Wangji met his eyes. "There is no point in hiding it," he said. "If he is a righteous person, he will not betray the messenger of Heaven; if he is not, better to know now."

"It's all right," Wen Ning put in, listening to the conversation with an alarmed expression. "I was pretty sure that's what you were, anyway. Or a bodhisattva, or something like that. You were so bright, I could feel you from halfway across the village. I just didn't want to guess and get it wrong."

Lan Wangji gave Wen Ning a long second look, as they skirted the edge of the cliff. Here was something Lan Wangji had never seen before, and had thought impossible: a person recovered from Yin Metal poisoning.

There had never been a victim who had recovered from the malaise before. Never. Lan Wangji was quite certain on this point; when the victim had been brought to the Cloud Recesses, the Lan had spent quite some time trying to revive her. Lan Wangji had thrown himself into research, combing the library and even the forbidden stacks for some treatment that might help. Even after she had passed away he found himself driven to keep searching, wondering if there was anything else they could have done, or anything more they could try for future victims. But there was no record of a successful recovery even in other countries, not even with the aid of a qilin.

Which meant that Wei Ying was something remarkable -- even for a qilin. Lan Wangji had suspected so for a while and felt quite vindicated to be right. All the more reason he should be guarded; all the more reason his power and brilliance must not fall to the Wens.

"What was it like?" Lan Wangji asked. His voice was subdued. It was something he had always wondered, but there had never been anyone who could answer such a question before.

"Cold," Wen Ning answered immediately, and then fell silent. For several more minutes of hiking he said nothing, seemingly mulling over his words. At last he said:

"It was like... I was underwater. In a pond, iced over for winter. I could still see and hear things... a little... from the rest of the world, but... I couldn't reach it, no matter how I tried. No matter how much I banged on the frost, I couldn't break through.

"And then..." Wen Ning gave Wei Ying a shy smile. "It was like the sun had come down to the earth. You melted the crust of the ice, and pulled me out."

They reached the base of the cliff, out of sight from the Wen searchers at last. Lan Wangji judged that they could take to the air here unseen; if they stayed low, they should be able to make it too far for pursuit without being spotted. They could be back at Pengshan before the Wens even realized they had slipped the net.

"Well," Wen Ning said with a wistful expression, "I guess you guys have to go now."

"What? No," Wei Ying scoffed, and slung his arm around Wen Ning's shoulders. "You're coming with us!"

"He is?" Lan Wangji said.

"I am?" Wen Ning squeaked.

"Lan Zhan! We can't leave him here!" Wei Ying protested. "If the other Wens find him, they'll know what happened at Dafan, and Wen Qing will be in trouble!"

Personally, Lan Wangji was fine with that.

"Besides, I have to look after this one now. I have a responsibility!" Wei Ying continued. He put Wen Ning in an affectionate headlock, hugging him tight. "Wen Qing entrusted me with him!"

"I think it was actually the other way around," Wen Ning mumbled from somewhere near Wei Ying's armpit.

"It is unwise," Lan Wangji said, but he was weakening.

"If he goes back now, Heaven knows what that Wen Chao will do to him!" Wei Ying continued passionately. "We have to take him with us, Lan Zhan!"

Lan Wangji gave up protesting. It was difficult to say no to Wei Ying when he was set on something, and he had a point about Wen Ning not being safe with his clansmen. Whatever his sister might have intended, Wen Ning himself was innocent.

"Very well," he said. "How will he travel?"

"Oh! Do you have a sword, Wen Ning?" Wei Ying exclaimed, releasing him. The young man wobbled a bit, then bowed.

"I'm afraid not, Blessed One," he said apologetically. Lan Wangji was not surprised. Even if he had had a sword, he had just recovered from a severe spiritual illness. His spiritual energy reserves were so low as to be almost nonexistent -- he surely could not fly for long.

"Um... hm." Wei Ying's face, which was just beginning to return to its normal brightness, fell again. He chewed his lip, tapping one finger against his chin in thought. Then he sighed. "I guess he'll have to ride with you, Lan Zhan."

Lan Wangji suppressed an instinctive protest; he had not been hoping to spend another few hours with Wei Ying pressed up against him, he told himself firmly. That would be highly inappropriate.

"How will you return?" he asked instead.

Wei Ying's face fell further. "Well," he said, "I guess there's no helping it. I'll just have to fly back."

This made no sense; Wei Ying had brought not his sword. Lan Wangji bit his tongue on another question.

Wei Ying backed up, clearing some space between them. He looked at them and, for the first time in Lan Wangji's acquaintance, flushed. "Um. Could you guys, like, turn around a bit?" He made a twirling motion with his fingers.

"Oh -- of course!" Wen Ning said hastily, and flung himself so his back was to Wei Ying; he covered his ears with his hands, too. Slowly Lan Wangji followed suit, trying to keep one eye on Wei Ying the whole time, still confused as to what he was planning.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Wei Ying heave a silent sigh. And then --

Lan Wangji knew what qilin looked like, of course. He'd read books that described their physical features in some detail. He'd seen a variety of illustrations, less or more stylized. And he'd certainly encountered the animals that qilin were said to resemble; horses, serpents, lions, deer. He knew -- he thought -- what a qilin looked like.

He knew nothing.

All of the illustrations were flat scribbles compared to the real thing. It couldn't be broken apart like a collection of things; mane of a lion, hooves of a deer, flanks of a horse. It -- he -- was so entirely his own being, so vibrantly whole and elegant and entire, that he made other creatures look like pale shadows of him. Lan Wangji was seized with the urge to drop to his knees; he only hoped that he did not look as openly gobsmacked as Wen Ning.

Wei Ying -- the qilin, the messenger of Heaven -- glowed with a light Lan Wangji had never seen on Earth. Instead of shining like a candle, the dark light seemed to shapen him, intensify his color and his lines; he looked realer than anything around him. His eyes flashed with rich black shine, a void wheeling with stars and planets. His horn --

Was daubed with red, a crimson ribbon that wound down the side of his neck and streaked down his foreleg.

"Wei Ying!" Lan Wangji gasped, jolting forward in horror. He pulled back at the last moment, hands hovering, unsure whether he was permitted to touch... But the bloody weal across his forehead, his neck, his shoulder, why had Lan Wangji not noticed before that he was hurt? When could he have gotten hurt?

"Aiya, Lan Zhan, there's no need to look like that," Wei Ying said -- and his voice was now sounding inside Lan Wangji's head, carried there by the qilin's innate magic even when he had no human mouth with which to speak. He sounded just like himself -- musical, full of wry humor, and now a touch of bitterness. "I'm not hurt. I'm fine."

"But the blood --" Wei Ying didn't seem to object, he even shifted a little closer, and Lan Wangji laid a fearful hand on the side of his neck. When he lifted his hand again, it was clean. The red streak was a part of his coat, a bright crimson patterning against deep black. There was another red ribbon running down the length of his back and flank, and his hooves were solid red as though they had been dipped in an inkwell of scarlet.

"It's fine. It's not blood. It's just --" The voice in his head broke off in a sigh, and Lan Wangji heard a wealth of mixed emotions in that. "It's just how I am, in this form. It won't hurt me or stop me from flying. Can you take Wen Ning back, Lan Zhan? I would carry him, but I can't, not without my sword."

"Of course." Of course he could not; only the king was permitted to ride on the back of a qilin, and even that under the most dire of circumstances. Lan Wangji was not sure it would have been appropriate even for Wei Ying to carry another even if he had been flying on his sword. (Or, for that matter, for him to ride on Lan Zhan's sword, holding him close -- but he squashed that thought firmly.)

---

Once they were in the air, arcing back towards Pengshan with all the speed they could muster, Lan Wangji heard Wei Ying's voice in his head again. It was soft this time, pensive, but still sounded clear as a bell to his inner ear.

"The sages think that the red marks are impurities," Wei Ying said, and Lan Wangji nearly unbalanced on his sword. "From me being in the world so long, having done all those... worldly things. They're stains. They were afraid that I'd become too corrupted.

"That's why it took three years, you know, for them to call this conclave. They spent all that time trying to cleanse me, purify me, to make the marks go away. But it didn't work. Not after three years of trying, and eventually they gave up. They had to just go ahead and call the ceremony with me still like this.

"Sometimes..." Another silent sigh. "Sometimes I wonder if they were right. If I'm just -- broken in some way, after being in the world too long. If that's why I can't find the king, I can't fulfill my duties. Because I'm tainted."

Lan Wangji had a lot of words he wanted to say to that. The suggestion that Wei Ying was in any way less than perfect, that he could be considered corrupted or tainted, was too ludicrous to consider. Demonstrably, Wei Ying's spiritual power was undiminished -- he had accomplished feats of healing never seen in recorded history! The idea that he was broken -- ridiculous!

If there was any flaw in the process, if could not be Wei Ying. They had simply failed, in some way, to provide him with what he needed to do his job.

He would have told Wei Ying all that and more, but the telepathic voice of the qilin did not extend both ways. He would have to shout it over the rushing wind of their flight, and the winds carried it away.

There was nothing left to do but fly on.

Upon their return to Pengshan, Lan Wangji found himself uncommonly jittering with impatience. Two long flights with a double weight on his sword left him exhausted, but he was antsy with the need to return to the Lan enclave. He had vanished for hours without alerting any of his elders as to where he would be going, and he had news that must be reported to Sect Leader Lan immediately.

They set down in a clearing close to the shrine walls, out of sight of any of the encampments -- particularly the Wen. Lan Wangji was not certain whether he was glad or sorry to see Wei Ying return to his human form -- although, having seen him in his true form once, there was a mystic quality that seemed to follow his every movement even in human guise. Lan Wangji could not believe, after having known him for a week, that there was ever a time that he could have mistaken Wei Ying for a common mortal.

But he had to check in with his sect. If Wen Ruohan was making a grab for power, the other Great Sects must be informed at once. They had been gone since morning, and the sun was now setting. Wei Ying gladly claimed responsibility for smuggling Wen Ning into the shrine and finding a place for one -- he seemed to feel a strange proprietary fondness for the boy he had so miraculously healed, and Wen Ning returned a well-deserved awe. Lan Wangji was confident that they would take care of each other.

He returned to the Lan enclave just as the sun dipped over the horizon, and was accosted by no less than three disciples who exclaimed at his return and advised him to see the Sect Leader at once. His brother was not, of course, angry -- he never had been angry at Lan Wangji, even when it might have been deserved -- but Lan Wangji still felt remorse for having caused him to worry.

The relief that Lan Xichen exhibited on Lan Wangji's safe return, however, faded into a grave concern as Lan Wangji reported the events of the day. He told the story plainly and matter-of-factly, and made only one small change that he tried not to feel badly about; he did not name Wen Qing in the initial deception (saying only that they had been approached by a retainer of Qishan Wen) nor in the spoiling of the ambush (saying only that a member of the village had a change of heart and warned them to flee before the soldiers arrived.) Both were technically true, but -- he did feel some sympathy for the girl, trapped into blasphemy at the behest of her sect leader, and he did not wish to get her into trouble either with the Sects nor with her own uncle.

"This is deeply concerning, Wangji," Lan Xichen said as Lan Wangji's tale drew to a close. "Such underhanded tactics have not been seen since the defeat of the Xue, sixteen years ago. I suppose the temptation of the throne is too much for a man as ambitious as Wen Ruohan."

"No matter how arrogant his ambitions, Wen Ruohan will never be xiandu," Lan Wangji said. "Wei Ying has confirmed in no uncertain terms that he does not have Heaven's favor."

Lan Xichen stared at him, brows rising on his forehead, and for a moment Lan Wangji was not certain why. He sent his brother a look of question, in return.

His brother chuckled. " 'Wei Ying?' " he said.

Lan Wangji felt himself flush. That was, indeed, an unforgivable breach of courtesy with one so exalted as the qilin. "I -- He specifically requested that I call him that, I could not --"

"No, no, it's fine. If that is indeed the exalted one's request, you could only have agreed," Lan Xichen easily waved his embarrassment away. A mischievous smile lingered on his lips, more the older-brother than the clan-leader in this moment. "I always hoped you would make more friends, Wangji. I'm just a little surprised that you made one here."

Lan Wangji chose a dignified silence over any response to that.

Lan Xichen's mirth faded soon enough, in light of the gravity of the situation. "Wangji, I would request that you stay by the qilin for the rest of the ceremonies," he said. "If Wen Ruohan is willing to go so far once already to get control of him, it's likely he'll try again."

Lan Wangji nodded. He had already determined that he would not leave Wei Ying undefended again no matter what. But it was nice to have his brother's blessing on the matter.

It was late when he finally excused himself from Lan Xichen's presence. His brother had tasks that only he could perform -- orders to give to the other disciples, warnings to pass to the other Sect Leaders. Lan Wangji himself should not really consider anything now except bed -- it was well past curfew, and his own task would not start until the ceremonies resumed the next day.

It had been a long day already. The flight to and from the Wen village, carrying a person on his sword each way -- it had near-exhausted his spiritual energy, as well as the tumult and shock of the events that followed. The logical thing to do would be to retire immediately, build up his spiritual reserves so that he could be ready the next day to defend Wei Ying from any threats that might come.

Still, he hesitated. Surely it wouldn't be a bad thing to check in on Wei Ying one more time, could it? Just to see him once before bed -- just to ensure that he was safe within the walls of the shrine.

That was the excuse he continued telling himself for nearly the next hour, as he searched the encampment and the shrine for the qilin. The shrine attendants revealed that he was not in his personal bedroom (even Lan Wangji would not have dared to impose on him if he was.) Finally, though, he managed to track Wei Ying down to one of the inner courtyards -- the same one where they had first met, seven days ago.

Like that day, the moon was well up over the wall, though the brilliance of it had dimmed by half. Like that day Wei Ying had climbed up into the maple tree, and he had a jar of wine in his hands as he looked up at the starry night sky.

But something had changed since then. On the first night Wei Ying had seemed to be enjoying his position, the night air, the view of the moon, the drink in his hands. Now, though -- now he barely looked up at the sky, staring morosely instead at his hands. Now, there were three other wine jars lined up at the base of the tree.

When he spotted Wei Ying Lan Wangji's first emotion was relief; Wei Ying had made it back safely after all, sheltered from the opportunistic Wens by the strong stone walls of the maze. But the relief withered and froze inside his chest as Wei Ying's maudlin attitude began to penetrate.

Wei Ying did look up to see him, at least, and summoned a small smile on his face to go with his greeting. Like the moon, it had greatly dimmed in luminosity since that first night. "Oh. Hi, Lan Zhan."

"Wei Ying," Lan Wangji returned the greeting, sliding into the courtyard. Wei Ying had not sent him away, even though he was almost certainly trespassing. Somehow, the rules that had towered like monuments overhead only a week ago now seemed more like a pathway of boundary-stones; useful to guide your steps, but in times of need could be easily stepped over. Wei Ying needed now, he was fairly sure. Wei Ying should not be alone.

Wei Ying hadn't been alone, when Lan Wangji had left him. He paused for a moment. "Where is Wen Qionglin?"

"You mean Wen Ning?" Wei Ying blinked at him for a moment before the connection seemed to fall into place. "Oh, right. I dumped him in Jiang Cheng's lap to deal with. Just for tonight at least, to give him someplace he could sleep without being seen. Hope he's a heavy sleeper. Jiang Cheng snores."

Lan Wangji remembered Jiang Wanyin as a very prickly, private sort of person, so he could not imagine that the prospect of having to shelter a total stranger -- one from a rival clan, even -- in his private chambers with zero notice had pleased him much. "Jiang Wanyin accepted this?"

"He swore at me," Wei Ying shrugged, "he always does. It's fine, I was making trouble for him. I always do."

He raised the jar of wine and tipped it back into his mouth. The bright liquid stream missed its target for a moment, splashing off his chin before he caught it, sending silver trickles down over his jawline. Lan Wangji watched its progress, and felt something that he did not wish to name twist in his stomach with another, much more identifiable emotion. Worry.

"You… should not be drinking, surely," Lan Wangji ventured. From his readings -- he had done much more reading since their first meeting -- alcohol was one of many earthly impurities that the qilin was said to abstain.

Wei Ying let out a bitter laugh. "No, no I really shouldn't," he said. "There are a lot of things I shouldn't do, according to the shrine sages. Don't drink alcohol," he said, his voice falling into an obviously foreign cadence. "Don't eat spicy food. Don't get too close to people. Don't…" his voice caught and he stopped to take a deep breath, take another drink before he continued. "Don't touch people. Don't let them touch you."

There was a heaviness to the word touch that made his meaning all too clear. Lan Wangji swallowed. "It is -- they mean to keep you safe," he suggested. "As a sacred beast, worldly impurities harm you."

"Does it? Says who?" Wei Ying reared back on the branch, his eyes flashing angrily. "The sages who read a lot of books about qilin, or me, who is one? Shouldn't I know my own heart?" He clapped one hand over his chest. "Shouldn't I know whether I'm being harmed or not? I've felt it, you know. I've felt the pain that comes with shedding blood, or eating meat. It felt like something inside me was dying. I know what hurts me! I know it better than they ever could. I don't need them to tell me I can't eat my shijie's cooking, can't drink Yunmeng's wine.

"Don't the things I see and hear and feel, don't they count for anything?" he continued passionately. "Do I become everybody's property, now? Do I even get a say what I do and don't do with my own body, or does all of me just belong to Wu Kingdom, not a scrap left over to be me?"

"Wei Ying..." Lan Wangji's voice trailed off helplessly, and died. He could think of nothing to say, nothing at all, that would address this bone-deep anguish. Wei Ying cut him off with a harsh laugh.

"Isn't it funny?" he said, still hiccuping with laughter. "I'm supposed to love the whole world, but I'm not allowed to love any one person too much. Except for the one person I don't get to choose."

For a moment Lan Wangji's whole being was suffused with such an ache, he thought he would die of it. Both a longing for what he wanted -- he could admit that he wanted and could never, ever have -- and for the deep desolation in Wei Ying's voice. If he could have lifted that burden, even just a little bit, like it was a rock that he had to stand under and hold up with only his own strength, then he would happily have stood there holding it for the rest of his days, even if Wei Ying never saw or spoke to him again.

Wei Ying took another deep pull of the wine bottle, let his head fall back against the trunk of the tree. "What is the point of me, Lan Zhan?" he said bitterly. "All I'm supposed to do, my whole sacred purpose, is just to parrot what Heaven says. A mynah bird could do that. A fucking ficus could do that job, just by flowering at the right time! Why does it need to be me? What do I contribute to this process? What am I even worth?"

"You have worth," Lan Wangji protested immediately. "You have purpose. You not only choose the ruler, you provide guidance to their rule."

Wei Ying laughed again, a harsh caw like that of a crow. "The xiandu doesn't have to listen to me, Lan Zhan," he said. "Why should they? Nobody else does. If they don't listen to me, what am I going to do about it? My only fallback is to get sick and hope that they feel bad enough about it to abdicate willingly, or else I die. Is it really a grand glorious destiny to die like a canary in a coal mine when the xiandu starts fucking up?"

"Wei Ying..." Helpless, he felt so helpless. "Your life is worth just as much as the good of the kingdom. A righteous man would not let you come to harm. If the xiandu is worthy of his post, if he is worthy of you, he would listen to you."

"That's a nice thought," Wei Ying said, a small wistful smile playing about his lips that soon dropped, returning his mouth to a hard bitter curl. "But it's just as likely I'm going to end up with someone like Wen Ruohan. I mean not him specifically, because fuck that guy, and anyway it isn't him. But there's more Wen Ruohans out there."

"If..." Lan Wangji stopped, swallowed, marshalled his words again. Mastered his truth. "If it truly comes to pass that the king is unworthy, and causes you to suffer... then I would fight him. For the sake of the kingdom, but also for you. You do not deserve to suffer for mortal's folly."

Wei Ying sat up straight, blinking. Stared at him in disbelief. Then he huffed, smiled ruefully, shook his head. "That's very sweet of you to say, but -- he would be the chosen of Heaven," he said. "You -- you couldn't."

"Heaven commands many virtues," Lan Wangji said slowly, feeling the weight of truth in each word like a stone. "Obedience is only one among them."

Wei Ying stared at him for a long moment, eyes round and face full of wonder, before his face crumpled and his eyes sheened over with tears. "Lan Zhan," he choked out. "You're the best. I wish everybody was as good as you, the world would be so much better if everyone was as good as you."

He got to his feet, swaying on the tree branch like a twig in the wind, before he descended. He hit the ground and wobbled, and Lan Wangji stepped forward to hold him steady before he thought twice. Wei Ying clung to his arms, swaying towards him and looking up into his face. "Lan Zhan..." Wei Ying told him soulfully. "I don't want to serve any other xiandu but you."

Wei Ying straightened up, let go of Lan Wangji's sleeves -- he felt the absence like a spike of cold. Wei Ying took two steps back, and then -- to Lan Wangji's confusion, then shock, then mounting horror --

-- he bowed.

It was not the bow that cultivators gave to one another, arms circled before them and bent at the waist. Wei Ying bowed as a qilin bowed -- one leg extended before him, arm sweeping down parallel to his leg, and ducking his chin as he folded smoothly at the waist. It was neat and elegant, and Lan Wangji had never in his life been so fucked.

Lan Wangji always knew that rules were immovable, intrinsic facts of the universe: to break a rule was to invite the consequences. He thought he knew that and thought that he was prepared, in the breaking of rules he had permitted himself to do, for punishment... eventually.

But the consequence had been more swift, and more catastrophic than Lan Wangji had ever expected. Because he had broken his kingdom's qilin.

He let himself become too close, too familiar. He watched the qilin wander far astray from his carefully protected existence and had done nothing -- nothing -- to guide him back onto the proper path. He nearly let the qilin walk into a trap -- had done nothing, himself, to prevent its closing! -- and had stood by and watched as the qilin, wracked with pain over the betrayals of mortalkind, poisoned himself further in his grief.

And this, this was the result that he had wrought. The qilin of Wu had given his bow to completely the wrong person.

"Wei Ying --" The words burst out of him like air bubbles leaving the mouth of a drowning man, carrying away the last of his breath with them. "Wei Ying, no, you can't --"

He tried to undo it, reached down and took Wei Ying's hands and struggled to pull him back to his feet. Wei Ying went willingly enough, swaying forward into Lan Wangji's arms, but the damage had already been done. It didn't matter that the moment was over now. It didn't matter that no one else had witnessed it.

Lan Wangji let go of Wei Ying's hands as though they had burned him and backed away. Wei Ying started to take a step after him, snagged his foot and toppled forward; Lan Wangji had to catch him before he swooped onto the paving stones.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Ying breathed into his ear; he took a deep breath and let it out in a happy sigh, melting into Lan Wangji's arms. "You smell so good. How do you smell so good?"

Lan Wangji could not reply; after that last outburst, his lips were frozen. But it didn't matter, because Wei Ying wasn't listening; a moment later he went slack in Lan Zhan's arms, his breathing evening out to something long and low as his eyes fluttered closed.

Asleep.

Lan Wangji did not know what to do. He wished desperately that he could go before the Elders and confess, make right his wrongs. But he did not know how to explain the precise scope of what he would be confessing to. The greatest punishment his Sect offered for blasphemy -- outright desecration of Heaven's edicts -- was three lashes of the discipline whip. Yet Lan Wangji could not see how three lashes, or thirty, could hope to make this right.

The qilin was warm in his arms, surprisingly light for his size. Lan Wangji wondered if those bones were hollow, like a bird's, to let him run with the winds as he did. Either way he felt so fragile; there were already too many that would seize him for their own purposes, that would hurt him. Lan Wangji had already harmed him enough; all he could think to do, tonight, was to not compound his failure further.

Wei Ying needed to be returned to the safety of his inner quarters, into the care of the sages who know more about the needs of a qilin than he ever will.

Which means that all Lan Wangji had to do was to find a way to sneak into the innermost sanctum of the shrine, past the watchful eyes of every one of its inhabitants, carrying a full-grown man in his arms.

Wonderful.

The leader of a Great Sect did not, generally speaking, drink for the sake of drunkenness. There were many reasons. Drunkenness was a weakness of character, reserved for the low-born. A Sect Leader had too much to do, too many responsibilities to succumb to insensibility. In addition a great Sect Leader had access to only the finest of wines and spirits, distilled essences of art that demanded to be savored, appreciated. Treating them like the lowest paint thinner fit only for intoxication was an insult to both the wine and to the position of Sect Leader.

But on this evening, listening to his two sons squabbling in the background, Wen Ruohan poured himself another cup of the strongest wine Qishan had to offer, downed it in one shot, and poured another.

"I gave you a simple mission," Wen Ruohan said, speaking slowly and enunciating clearly. "Your orders were clear. Yet you return empty-handed. Once again, you disappoint me."

"It's not my fault!" Wen Chao shouted. "Everyone's working against me! My subordinates betrayed me. That Wen Qing, she was supposed to keep the stupid beast there until I arrived, but I --"

"You were late, that's what you were," Wen Xu cut him off, a sneer on his face. "You took your time getting out to that backwater and you arrived too late."

"That damn girl was working against me!"

"Oh, that's what you always say!" Wen Xu rolled his eyes. "Nothing's ever your fault, is it, it's always some underling who fucks things up, never you. You know, at some point, the fact that every subordinate that you've ever had betrays you in some way starts to say more about you, doesn't it?"

"You --!" Wen Chao sputtered, his face turning dusky red as his blood pressure rose.

"Enough!" Wen Ruohan was forced to raise his voice to cut above the hubbub, which he despised having to do. A great man did not need to shout; lesser men ought to listen. "I've had enough of both of you."

"What, what did I do?" Wen Xu protested. "I'm not the one who failed a simple mission."

"But father, I --" Wen Chao started.

"I said be silent!" he thundered.

And thankfully, for a long hushed moment, they both were. At least his sons could still be obedient, if they could not be competent.

"The time has come to take drastic measures," Wen Ruohan said, after the last echoes of his shout had faded. He poured himself another cup of wine, taking his time. "We gave the qilin a chance to come to us freely, and he refused. Then we attempted to take him gently, and he slipped our grasp." He paused for a moment, glare boring into his youngest son, who shrank away from his displeasure. "If he cannot be controlled, he must be removed."

Wen Chao gawped, and Wen Xu's breath hissed through his teeth. "Removed?!"

"This qilin has obviously been damaged by the Jiang clan's corrupting influence," Wen Ruohan said reasonably. "He no longer recognizes his proper masters. We will eliminate him, and begin again with another qilin."

Wen Xu was pale. "But -- that could take another sixteen years!"

"We are cultivators. Hunters of immortality. What is sixteen years to us?" Wen Ruohan asked.

"But that means another sixteen years with no qilin and no king!" Wen Chao sputtered. "Years more of calamity, without heaven's protection --"

"The protection of heaven?" Wen Ruohan snapped, slamming the cup back down on the table. "Only the weak require protection! The strong thrive on calamity; it hones them, sharpens them, winnows the unworthy. We will endure the storm and emerge all the stronger for it, even as the lesser sects perish. And at the end, the kingship will be ours."

They still looked daunted, his sons -- but then, if supremacy was easy, then it would not require a great man to attempt it. At least they were no longer arguing.

"But, Father, to kill a qilin, that -- that is an act of blasphemy," Wen Xu ventured. "Surely we would be accursed --"

"I'm not suggesting that you kill him, idiot boy," Wen Ruohan snapped. "That is what tools are for. Find the right tool and they will kill a god for you, and gladly."

"You're joking!" Wen Chao huffed. "Who would be mad enough to want to kill a sacred beast?"

Wen Ruohan allowed himself to smile slightly, as he admired the way the torchlight played over the last dregs of wine in his cup. He had just the one in mind.

~tbc...

Chapter Text

Wei Wuxian was not in a hurry to admit to anyone just how awful he felt the next morning. He'd spent the last three years in a tug-of-war with the shrine sages for the autonomy to do as he pleased in the hours when he was not attending to his duties, and the little porcelain jars of wine had become the symbol of that struggle. The sages hated when he drank, they tried to stop him whenever they could; so every sip he managed was a defiance of their control over him.

But he'd never drunk so much in one evening before. He'd blown right through his entire stash -- meant to last for at least the rest of the month -- in a single night, and he was paying for it now. His body ached in every joint, his stomach gripped with nausea, his throat was dry as a rag, and worst of all, he couldn't remember most of the previous night. He'd been drinking, and... and a beautiful figure in white had come in to the courtyard, and...

He couldn't remember the rest. They probably hadn't dueled again? He wouldn't have been able to hold his sword straight. Most likely Lan Zhan had been the one to tuck him into bed (he hadn't gotten a scolding from the acolytes this morning, so it probably wasn't one of them.)

But if Lan Zhan had been there when Wei Wuxian gone to bed, he certainly wasn't there when he woke up, which was really just another mark against this terrible morning.

And the last person in the world he was going to admit that he drank too much and gave himself a sick hangover, was his baby brother.

Jiang Cheng had burst in on him well before he was ready to face the outside world, bringing Wen Ning along with him. Back in a safe place, with a new day dawned, Wei Wuxian had to face the problem of what to do with Wen Ning. Bringing him along yesterday had been a bit of an impulse, although he still didn't think he'd been wrong; if he'd been seen by Wen Chao or any of his men, both he and his sister would have been at risk! Wei Wuxian hadn't gone to all the trouble of curing him just for them to get hurt because of stupid clan politics!

Unfortunately, there was still the matter of all the Wens here, at Peng Lu Gong. Until this xiandu business was settled, they were still going to be all over the place. With the influence of the Yin Metal banished Wen Ning was clear and bright-eyed again, soft-spoken and lucid, but the silvery scars snaking down his arms and up his neck hadn't faded any further; it was clear that something unusual had happened to him, even if nobody would jump to 'cured from Yin Metal poisoning' since that had literally never been done before ever.

The best course was for Wen Ning to join another Sect. With his gentle temperament and loyal nature, he would fit in wonderfully at Lotus Pier. Jiang Cheng could add Wen Ning to his retinue when they left, and nobody would be the wiser. It was a perfect plan!

"Absolutely not," Jiang Cheng said, unfairly.

"Jiang Cheng!" Wei Wuxian protested. What kind of disloyalty was this, shooting down his plans without even pretending to consider them? "Come on, at least give him a chance."

"Do you even hear yourself?" Jiang Cheng said. "Do you even think about what you're asking? The sorts of trouble we would get if a Wen of Qishan tried to join our sect --"

"You wouldn't have to say he's a Wen," Wei Wuxian objected.

"Some no-name, then, and that's supposed to be better?" Jiang Cheng said. "Wei Wuxian, have some sense! If she knew you were sponsoring him, my mother would eat him alive -- "

"She wouldn't have to know," Wei Wuxian muttered, but he was wearing down and they both knew it.

"--and if they didn't know you sponsored him, then my father would!" Jiang Cheng continued relentless. "It's not an easy regimen, you know! He's literally years behind on training, his spiritual energy level's not developed enough for his age, not to keep up with the rest of the trainees. It'd be a nightmare, you know it would."

"Well, he can't go home!" Wei Wuxian snapped. "Where else is he supposed to go, then, huh?"

"Excuse me, Blessed One," Wen Ning piped up, derailing Jiang Cheng's next round of banter.

Wei Wuxian blinked over at him. "What?"

Wen Ning had raised his head and was giving him a cautious look -- but his face had a set of determination, too. "Do I have a choice in where I go?"

"Do you have -- of course you do!" Wei Wuxian sputtered in astonishment. "Nobody's going to make you go anywhere you don't want to, Wen Ning! But you'll love Yunmeng, I know you will. Lotus Pier is the best place in the Kingdom of Wu! In fact, it might just be the best place in the whole world!"

Jiang Cheng stumbled a bit, although he'd been knocked off balance, and gave him a look. Wei Wuxian couldn't face that look straight on, it was too painful and soft. What was that look for, anyway? Jiang Cheng already knew that, he knew Wei Wuxian knew that.

"I'm sure that's true," Wen Ning said, surprisingly diplomatic. "But, if I have a choice, I would rather stay here."

"Here?"

"At Pengshan," Wen Ning clarified. "I wish to become an acolyte at this shrine, and serve you."

"Wen Ning!" Wei Wuxian spluttered. "You can't do that!"

Wen Ning tilted his head to the side, curious. "Is it not allowed?"

"It's not about whether or not it's allowed!" Wei Wuxian waved his arms vaguely around the room, indicating the whole entire operation that was the shrine. "I have no idea how they get the acolytes here. There's probably a whole process!"

"I'm pretty sure that if their great holy qilin announces that someone is an acolyte, then they're an acolyte," Jiang Cheng commented, unhelpfully.

"That's not the point! Wen Ning, you don't want to be shut up in this dusty shrine for the rest of your life," he entreated the boy; but Wen Ning shook his head.

"Jiang-gongzi is right," Wen Ning said, accepting the judgment far too readily. "I was never any good at cultivating, and even worse at sword forms.

"But if I can, I'd like to spend my life caring for the qilin. If not for you, then for others that may come after you. I want to help. I want other people to have a chance to get the same miracle that I got, and I think the best way to do that is to help the qilin."

"Wen Ning!"

He had nothing to follow the statement up with. Wen Ning's pronouncement had robbed him of all his words, and left a bit of stuffiness clogging his throat instead. Out of the corner of his eye, Jiang Cheng's face was scrunched up like he, too, was trying not to have an emotion.

"Fine... okay," Wei Wuxian said at last, when he had control of his expression again. He wagged a finger in front of Wen Ning's face. "I'll talk to the scary head sages. But if you ever change your mind, I'll help you leave!"

Wen Ning beamed at him. He had a nice smile, open and unabashed. "Thank you, Blessed One."

With a plan for his newest ward in place, Wei Wuxian prepared for the rest of his day. Not that there was much more preparing to do; he only needed to throw on one more outer robe and put his boots on in order to be presentable. There was one thing being the qilin had up over being one of the gentry; the robes you had to wear weren't nearly as hot and heavy and scratchy.

His day started looking up when he headed through the shrine corridors out towards the public areas, and ran into Lan Wangji. "Lan Zhan!" he exclaimed, delight filling every corner of his body at the sight of those familiar pale robes, the perfect posture, his implacably calm face. How could his day be any less than a good one, with his favorite person in the world right in front of him?

"Wei-renshou," Lan Wangji said, stepping back slightly and dropping into a smooth bow.

"What? What's all this renshou business?" Wei Wuxian laughed. "I thought we were past that! I call you by your name, and you call me by mine!"

"It is not permitted to be overly familiar," Lan Wangji said.

"What are you talking about?" Wei Wuxian said, bewildered. "We're friends, Lan Zhan! I'm your best friend, aren't I?"

Lan Wangji stared straight ahead, avoiding his gaze. "No," he said softly. "We can not be."

An uneasy feeling began to prick down Wei Wuxian's spine. "Lan Zhan, what's gotten into you, huh?" he said, trying to laugh through it, but it stuck in his throat. He tried to sling his arm over Lan Wangji's shoulders -- a practiced move by now. But this time it captured only air, as Lan Wangji stepped away from him. Wei Wuxian stumbled a little before he found his feet again, staring.

"Lan Zhan!" he repeated. Lan Wangji stared straight ahead, and said nothing. Wei Wuxian reached out to grab his upper arm, or at least the trailing edge of a sleeve, to reel him back in -- but once again Lan Wangji moved at the same time he did, in perfect synchronicity, back just as he moved forward. Once again, his outstretched hand touched nothing but air.

He stared at his best friend, trying to figure out what had changed. Grasping for something, anything, that could provide an explanation.

He'd... he'd gone too far, hadn't he? Yesterday. He'd finally messed up too much, crossed a line he couldn't uncross. Everything -- sneaking away from the shrine in the first place, falling for Wen Qing's stupid sob story, nearly getting caught by the Wen soldiers, insisting on bringing Wen Ning back from them, showing Lan Wangji the truth about his qilin form --

It had been too much for Lan Wangji. He should have known it would be. Seeing the stains, and then coming back later that evening to see Wei Wuxian get drunk -- he must have finally realized how corrupted Wei Wuxian really was, how badly he failed at being the ideal paragon of righteousness that the qilin needed to be. And now that he'd seen the truth, he didn't want to be Wei Wuxian's friend any more.

It had been three years since the disastrous night-hunt at Lotus Pier, the one that had forever buried his dreams of being a cultivator. Even years later, Wei Wuxian still remembered the way it had felt when his arrow had struck the bat yao, knocking it out of the sky. He thought he would still remember it if he lived to be a thousand. In that moment, it had felt like something inside shared the moment of death with the creature he'd killed.

This felt like that. Like something inside him was dying.

"Well," Wei Wuxian said. He huffed a laugh, and pasted a smile on his face. "Well, all right then! Lan Wangji."

Lan Wangji still didn't look at him, just continued staring straight ahead.

"Well," Wei Wuxian repeated. He rubbed his face. "I guess -- the ceremonies are starting. I... should be there."

It was too late to impress Lan Wangji now with how conscientious and scrupulous he could be. But under that silent, judgment stare, he couldn't do anything else.

For the next several days Wei Wuxian attended to every one of his duties, as precise and scrupulous as anyone could have asked for. He was up on the dais first thing in the morning, said the proper greetings and blessings to open the ceremonies, and stayed up there the entire day, upright and serious.

It was just as miserable as he had expected. The qilin's robes might not be as stiff and heavy as those the lords were forced to wear, but they still became unbearably hot when baking all day in the sun. There were eyes pinning him from every direction, and yet at the same time none of them seemed to actually see him at all.

The competitions and games started up yet again -- for the third time. There was still no word from the Chang Sect, the last of the established Sects not to make an appearance. Tradition demanded that every Sect have at least one representative present, but the murmurs -- among the sages and the clan heads alike -- grew louder every day that they would have no choice but to proceed without them. At this point it must be assumed that the Chang clan was refusing to attend deliberately, perhaps in a bid to throw a wrench in the proceedings for some political gain of their own. A single clan could not be allowed to stall the workings of Heaven indefinitely, tradition or no tradition. Soon -- very soon -- the ceremonies would come to a close for the third and final time, and the new king must be announced.

Wei Wuxian still had no idea who it was going to be.

It wasn't that he hadn't looked! He had looked. Sure, there had been a period in the middle where he spent all his time with Jiang Cheng and Lan -- Lan Wangji, but he had only done so because he'd looked at every presented candidate, throughout the entire assembly, and nothing had jumped out at him. Xiao Xingchen had assured him that the kingly aura was profound, unmissable, that it was not subtle. Wei Wuxian couldn't possibly have missed it.

Unless he really was broken. Unless his channel to Heaven was severed, choked shut by all the impurities he'd exposed himself to over his lifetime.

The ceremonies ground on. By this time, the fun and enjoyment of the competitions had almost entirely been squeezed out of them. Athletes and competitors went through the motions without enthusiasm, already knowing who the top contender in every category was going to be. For any contest that prized strength and force -- Nie Mingjue. For any contest that required delicacy or precision -- Lan Xichen. For any of the group exercises that favored sheer numbers -- the Wen, the Wen, the Wen again.

Three days of ceremonies left. Then two, then one, and every day Wei Wuxian searched the crowd for the one Heaven had selected to rule over Wu Kingdom. The one whose destiny would be linked to his, the one who would hold a hand over his life. Every day he searched for them, and found nothing.

Every day Lan Wangji stood behind him, an arm's length away, as remote and silent as the moon.

---

As a member of Gusu Lan, Lan Wangji well understood punishment and discipline. He himself had been master of discipline for the visiting students during the Cloud Recesses schooling semester, and he would not have been chosen for the role without a thorough understanding of both giving and receiving discipline. Despite his sterling reputation, there had been times in Lan Wangji's childhood where his own stubborn nature had clashed with his sect's inflexible rules, and those encounters had left marks.

Yet the past few days had been a punishment unlike any he had withstood before. Standing by Wei Ying's side, and yet unable to touch him. Unable to speak with him. Unable to reach out to him.

It had also proven the rightness of his course. Once he stopped allowing his presence to distract Wei Ying, he went back to fulfilling his duties without flaw. Clearly, it had been Lan Wangji's influence that had sidetracked the qilin from his proper purpose.

He wished that he could have removed himself from Wei Ying's presence entirely. It would be better, he was certain, for them both. But Lan Xichen had assigned him to the duty of guarding the qilin from any ill intentions, and he could not forsake that duty. Nor did he wish to -- the thought of any harm coming to Wei Ying because of his own negligence was unbearable.

More so than this?

Yes.

He watched the competitions play out, watched Wei Ying smile and compliment and give his blessings freely, and he only hoped -- in the quiet, petty part of his brain -- that Wei Ying did not choose Lan Xichen. He had let go of his contrary wish to see a commoner ascend to the kingship, he understood that was not likely to happen, but... any member of the gentry, any at all, would be better than Lan Xichen.

Not because his brother was not suitable for the kingship. Truly, there was none more suitable -- even Nie Mingjue, as much as he respected his brother's best friend, had issues regulating his temper that would pose a significant challenge to a ruler. No, Lan Xichen would doubtless be the best choice for the Kingdom of Wu... but he would be the worst choice for Lan Wangji's heart.

Because if Wei Ying chose Lan Xichen -- if Gusu Lan became the home of the xiandu and his court -- then Lan Wangji would have to live in the same place as Wei Ying. Would have to see him, every day, in the company of Lan Xichen -- not himself. And that, as sure as any curse or poison, would kill him.

It was his selfishness, Lan Wangji knew, that led him to secretly wish for his own well-being above what was best for his country. It was the exact fatal weakness that had brought injury to the qilin. It was exactly why, he reminded himself every hour, he could not allow himself to look at, or speak to, or reach out to Wei Ying.

He endured.

On the evening before the final day, Wei Wuxian dragged through his preparations for bed. He dreaded ending the day, because he dreaded the day that would come after it. It had been years since Uncle Jiang had pulled him from the streets of Yiling but he'd visited there again in his sleep last night. In his dreams, he'd been wandering a maze of narrow streets between tall dark buildings, and at the end of the alleyway was the tall back of -- someone, someone very precious to him -- walking away. Sometimes it was Uncle Jiang, sometimes it was Lan Zhan, sometimes it was Xiao Xingchen -- but every time, when he called their name they didn't hear him, and no matter how he ran towards them he could never reach them. Over and over again they walked away and left him on the streets of Yiling.

Needless to say, he hadn't been sleeping well.

The contests and competitions were over. Honestly Wei Wuxian had barely paid attention to who'd won what, despite being on hand to personally give out accolades and blessings to most of the winners. Tomorrow would be a nonstop roll of ceremonies, starting at dawn and rolling up into the banquet that would command the presence of every would-be king-candidate and their retinue. And then, at sundown, Wei Wuxian would have to pick a king.

A part of him wondered, in his desperation, whether he couldn't just pick Jiang Cheng after all. Or maybe Wen Ning. That would definitely throw all of them into a frenzy. Maybe buy him some time.

The wind had been picking up steadily all day, and now it gusted against the window with the thrumming force of a woodwind note. There was no rain coming, just the cold drafts of mountain air making themselves known, but it was growing loud enough to be distracting. As exhausting as the day had been he didn't feel like sleep, he didn't want to sleep. He felt antsy, itching under his skin, he couldn't bear to go to bed just yet. "Say, Lan Wangji," he said, turning towards the other boy and putting a great effort of cheer into his voice. "Why don't we go out and look at the moon together?"

"It's after nine," Lan Wangji responded, still not turning his head.

Wei Wuxian rolled his eyes. "Well, not everyone has a strict bedtime like the fuddy-duddy Lans," he huffed. He made an effort to moderate his tone. "Come on, Lan Zhan, just for a little while. We don't have to drink, if you don't want to, we can have some tea. It'll be nice."

Lan Wangji stared off into the distance. "Inappropriate," was all he said.

Wei Wuxian began to lose his temper. "I don't know why you're dogging my footsteps when you clearly can't stand being around me!"

"My duties are clear," Lan Wangji said, and then added at the end, "regardless of personal feelings."

Wei Wuxian felt like had been slapped. His duties? All this time, the entire length and breadth of the ceremonies Lan Wangji had been shadowing him, was because he'd felt a duty? All this time he'd spent pestering Lan Wangji for some reaction, and he'd put up with it for the sake of duty, regardless of his personal feelings?

Wei Wuxian gritted his teeth, trying to push down the upwelling emotion that wanted to flood his head, escape him in some humiliating outburst of emotion. "Fine," he said. "Fine! Go crawl into bed at nine like a perfect little Lan, then! I'm going out to watch the moon."

He stormed off. Lan Wangji, of course, followed him. Wei Wuxian veered his course away from his suite, steering towards the inner part of the shrine.

Wei Wuxian crossed the threshold, between the towering posts of the gate. Lan Wangji hesitated before he followed, and Wei Wuxian whirled to face him. "Where do you think you're going, Lan-er-gongzi?" he demanded. "This is the inner shrine, the most sacred part of the Holy Mountain. It is completely off-limits to outsiders. It's fine for me to be here, but what about you?"

Lan Wangji fell back a step. "Wei-renshou," he said, and for the first time in days there was a thread of emotion behind his voice. "You should not be alone. Lan-zongzhu's orders -- "

"Lan-zongzhu?" Wei Wuxian laughed in his face. "He's not in charge here, Lan Zhan. There's no Sect Leader here and no xiandu, just me and you. If you want me not to be alone, you're going to have to do something inappropriate."

The word hung in the air between them. The balance hung, for a long moment, in the air between them. He'd flung the words like a gauntlet, and yet, the invitation was as real as the challenge. If Lan Zhan wanted to come any further with him, he'd have to be willing to cross a line.

Lan Wangji shifted back, instead. Took a step back as the enigmatic expression fell over his face like a shutter.

"Yeah," Wei Wuxian said, trying not to choke on his bitter disappointment. "Thought so."

He turned his back on Lan Wangji.

The truth was, there wasn't all that much in the innermost part of the shrine to do. It was mostly a ritual space, one he'd spent far too much time in the past few years as the sages tried to cleanse him. But through the back of the hall was a little doorway, one that opened onto a rocky path that wound up a steep hillside into a little glade.

In the glade was a tree. It wasn't, to be honest, much to look at. Its trunk was low and twisted, whether by age or by the ceaseless mountain winds; its branches kinked and grew in sharp angular shapes. There were no leaves and, at the moment, no fruit.

The last fruit had been eighteen years ago. This was the tiān mù, the tree of heaven, and its branches bore only the sacred qilin. Even the sages weren't permitted to touch the tree; that was reserved for the nu xiān who nursemaided the infant qilin.

He touched it now. Where his fingertips met the withered bark, a dark light blossomed -- darkness flowing out of his fingertips, following the deep grooves of the bark, outlining every inch of the dead-looking wood with shining darkness. When he lifted his hand the darkness flickered, then faded away.

"Hi, mom," he said.

Wei Wuxian had never had a mother. It wasn't necessarily something he had missed, as such; Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng had a mother and that had always seemed to be a distinctly mixed package for them. But Yu Ziyuan had always made it clear, from the first day of Wei Wuxian's residence at Lotus Pier, that she was not his mother and was not going to act like one.

That had been fine, or at least he'd always told himself it was fine. He had his sister, and he had the faded golden memories of his parents. Cangse Sanren had been dead and gone for most of his life, but he still had his fragmented memories of her, and he still had his daydreams. In daydreams Cangse Sanren could be any kind of mother he liked: warm and doting, fun and mischievous, cool and accomplished and competent.

Then he had come to Pengshan and everything had changed. Those daydreams -- along with any other vision he'd ever had of his future -- had been doused by the truth of his nature. Cangse Sanren was not his mother, had never been his mother. Xiao Xingchen seemed to think that she would have cared for him nonetheless, but that didn't change the fact of how things were -- that even if Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze had successfully brought him home to Peng Lu Gong, they could not have been his parents. Not truly.

If Cangse Sanren had lived, she would have had to leave him. Just like Jiang Yanli.

Cangse Sanren gone, Jiang Yanli sent away, Yu Ziyuan never begun -- and at the end of it all, Wei Wuxian was left with... a tree.

There had been no one, it turned out, who had carried him under their heart. No one had tied a ribbon onto a branch and prayed, hoping to call his soul into the world. If he was the child of anything at all it was the Wu kingdom in its entirety, the wish of an entire kingdom of people for their blessing from Heaven. Everyone had wanted the qilin, but nobody had wanted him.

The little glade wasn't an especially restful place -- especially not tonight, with the sharp silver moonlight and the intermittent fits and gusts of wind howling between the stone peaks. Wei Wuxian knew that he ought to go back inside, return to his suite, go to bed. But he couldn't bear to face the next day, the assembled cultivators, with such a stain of failure on his lips.

"Why can't you just tell me?" he demanded -- the tree, the heavens, who even knew. "If I could choose, I already know who I'd choose. But I don't get to choose, I'm supposed to give them your choice, so why can't you just tell me?!"

The wind flared high, roaring against the walls of the dell, sending a gust of air into Wei Wuxian's face. He felt a sudden clamor go from his nose straight to his brain, a warning flush going down his spine; the wind smelled like blood.

There shouldn't be blood here. Couldn't be. Not unless --

In the next moment the wind died, sending the glade into a rustling silence, and Wei Wuxian heard the soft scrape of a boot a bare second before a metal blade tried to pierce his spine.

---

Wei Wuxian moved before he thought. He threw himself forward and turned in the same motion, spinning around to face the shadow behind him. Dark hair, dark clothes, the bright glint of the edge of a sword, the faint gleam of moonlight off teeth bared in a wide smile.

The sword came for him again. Wei Wuxian skipped back a pace, his hand going to his side. Thank Heaven, Suibian was still there -- he'd worn it at the ceremonies and hadn't yet put it aside for the night. Ten years of training at Lotus Pier to keep his sword to hand at all times hadn't deserted him, not even in the three years since.

Ten years of training at Yunmeng Jiang hadn't deserted him in other ways, either. Suibian leapt into his hand, and the assassin's next cut came whistling across at eye level only to be deflected with a mighty clang. The bite of metal on metal sent a shock reverberating up Wei Wuxian's hand, but he managed to keep hold of it. It was different in every way from the familiar clack of training swords during a spar. He'd never actually fought another cultivator with live steel, before tonight. He'd never had someone come at him with the intent to kill.

"Wow! A qilin using a sword! I really didn't expect that, huh," the assassin said. His tone was surprisingly chipper for one with such a dark and bloody intention. "I thought your kind disapproved of weapons and all that."

The blades separated, and for a moment the two opponents circled one another, each sizing up the other. The assassin was surprisingly young; he could have passed for a handsome young master, although his dark robes showed no sign of Sect affiliation. They were well-tailored, though, made of rich fabric with exquisite detailing along the cuffs. His sword, too, didn't look like a rogue cultivator's battered blade; it was beautifully made and honed deadly-sharp. This was no wandering thug, no random cutpurse. This was a cultivator, and one trained on murder.

"Well, I can only speak for myself," Wei Wuxian said, "but I disapprove of being dead more."

"Hah!" The assassin threw his head back and laughed, sharp teeth flashing in the moonlight. "This next part is gonna suck for you, then."

He rushed forward again, sword flicking around in a series of lightning-fast cuts; Wei Wuxian could barely deflect them. At least until some of his training kicked in; he got his blade aligned with his enemy's and parried it aside with a sliding scrape of steel. For the first time he got a good look at his enemy's hand; it was covered in an odd, stiff glove of dark leather, the last two fingers standing out starkly from the rest of the hand.

"Who are you?" Wei Wuxian demanded. "What do you want?"

"Oh, I want to kill you," the man said, in a tone that made it sound like it should have been obvious. "I'm Xue Yang, by the way. Nice to meet you."

"Can't say the same," Wei Wuxian said, gritting his teeth as he deflected another blow, then a third. The next one came right for his center and he threw himself backwards to avoid it, skidding back over the loose gravel until he got one foot into position to kick it aside. Xue Yang stumbled a few steps past him, their shoulders passing only a hairs-breadth apart.

"You know, I was expecting someone pretty different," Xue Yang said, casually, as the clashing steel rang out between them. "Gold hair, or glowing eyes or something. Are you sure you're really the qilin, and not just some guy? You look like just some guy."

"Do you really expect me to answer that?" Wei Wuxian demanded.

Xue Yang sucked on his cheek. "Well, y'know, I'm going to kill you either way," he said casually. "So it's not like it's any loss to you. Don't you feel a little bad, though? If I've got the wrong guy, I'm going to need to go find the real qilin afterwards and kill him anyway. But if you are the qilin, then I can just stop with you."

Wei Wuxian swallowed against fear and rage, the thought that this deadly young man with the treacherous smile would go off to attack others in the shrine, the acolytes and sages, assaulting them when they were helpless in their bed. "It's me," he said tightly. "Sorry to disappoint."

"I forgive you," Xue Yang said generously. "Man! This is gonna be so cool! I've killed people before, y'know, but killing humans is easy. Lots of people have killed humans, but how many have killed a qilin? Not a lot, I bet! That's something that you really get remembered for!"

"You really like to hear yourself talk, don't you?"

"I do! I'm pretty good at it!" Xue Yang sounded delighted, as though Wei Wuxian had paid him a compliment. "If people paid me to tell jokes half as much as they paid me to kill people, I could afford to stop being an assassin!"

"Would you?" Wei Wuxian said challengingly.

"Nah," Xue Yang admitted, and rushed him.

They clashed again, but Wei Wuxian was beginning to learn the assassin's cadence, beginning to push back against his brutal rhythm. He deflected twice, feigned a stumble, then locked Suibian with the assassin's blade and flung it wide. His body remembered the steps, spinning him forward into the other man's reach, and his next swing stopped with the blade an inch away from Xue Yang's neck.

Stopped, and stayed. For a long moment, neither of them moved.

Then Xue Yang smiled, his eyes lighting up with glee. "Oh," he said, "So it's true, then. You can't bring yourself to kill me, can you? Not even a bastard who's threatening your life. In-fucking-credible!"

His hand moved in his sleeve, and Wei Wuxian's gaze snapped to the motion just in time to receive a fistful of dark reddish powder to the face. It clung to his skin and flaked into his eyes, which almost immediately began to burn and water furiously, reducing his vision to a smeary, muddy mess. He felt the shout of pain tear out of his throat and heard Xue Yang's wild laughter in response; sensed more than saw Xue Yang's next swing and was only able to duck out of the way through sheer reflex and blind luck.

The reddish powder burned in his eyes like acid, ate at his skin like lye; Wei Wuxian scrubbed at his face with his sleeve but only managed to get a blurred, patchy vision of the world. He heard Xue Yang chuckling as he walked forward, saw the glint of moonlight off his blade as he played it back and forth. "Well, that's a damn shame," he said. "Because there's only one way for this fight to end, and that's with one of us dead. You can't beat me, so --"

That was as far as he got in either speech or step; Wei Wuxian was still blinking pained tears out of his eyes when a blur of white came charging in from the side and bowled Xue Yang over like an avalanche.

Wei Wuxian couldn't see clearly enough to make out the face of his rescuer, but he didn't need to; he would know Lan Zhan's silhouette anywhere. And the shouts and cries that were beginning to start up from the direction of the shrine promised that more help was arriving, too.

"No, I can't," he called out to Xue Yang, wherever he was. "But he can!"

He would have liked to help Lan Zhan restrain the assassin, but he was still half-blind from the poison powder. Besides, Lan Zhan didn't seem to need the help, if the rhythmic thumps and frustrated snarls from Xue Yang were any indication. Wei Wuxian was able to take a moment to collect himself, to catch his breath and his balance and center his qi. Without the threat of a sword seeking his heart he was able to remember his training, press the tips of his fingers to the center of his forehead and circulate spiritual energy through the meridians of his face.

At last the burning began to die down, the patchy darkness began to clear to reveal the moonlit scene, and Wei Wuxian blinked away the last of the blurry tears as he took in the scene.

Lan Zhan was there, looking radiant and ethereal in the moonlight; he was perfectly poised, his blade held out in a long elegant stance that made it look like an extension of his body. Wei Wuxian was briefly distracted by a wave of intense, crushing disappointment that he hadn't gotten to see Lan Zhan kick the assassin's butt, but he could at least get to admire the outcome.

Xue Yang was sprawled on the ground, dark hair and robes fanning out over the gravel. Half a dozen shrine acolytes -- including Wen Ning, who was inexpertly but gamely clutching a heavy quarterstaff by one end -- surrounded him, weapons hovering in case he looked likely to rise again. Wei Wuxian smelled some blood, enough to make him dizzy and nauseous, but not the overpowering stench of it. He didn't sense any fresh deaths, at any rate -- but Xue Yang wasn't moving. Unconscious?

"Blessed One!" One of the shrine acolytes -- he was too shaken to remember the man's name right now, Gao something -- came up to him, nearly beside himself with worry. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Wei Wuxian assured him, waving his concern away. "I got a face full of some kind of nasty powder, but it's fine. It's fading now."

Lan Zhan glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, not taking the line of his gaze -- or his sword -- away from Xue Yang. "You need a doctor."

"We will wake the apothecary at once!" Gao Somebody exclaimed. "Come, renshou, let us tend to your wounds!"

He tried to chivvy Wei Wuxian out of the dell, back into the main shrine complex. Wei Wuxian resisted. "Wait, wait, not yet. What about this guy, this Xue Yang?"

One of the other shrine guards -- Wei Wuxian thought she was the captain -- gave the still form of Xue Yang a baleful glare. "Don't concern yourself," she said. "We will dispose of this one."

That sounded ominous as fuck, under the circumstances. "You mean you're gonna kill him?" Wei Wuxian objected. "You can't do that!"

The guards and acolytes exchanged glances, and Wei Wuxian bit back a groan of dismay; he was all too familiar with that look. That was the oh, we have to humor the qilin look. "Blessed one... he has trespassed on the most sacred ground of the shrine, and attacked the messenger of heaven," Gao Somebody said hesitantly. "Surely you understand that there can be only one possible sentence."

"You can't!"

"I understand that this is very distressing for you," the guard captain said soothingly. "Have no fear, we will take this piece of trash far out of your sight --"

"No, this isn't about that!" Wei Wuxian was ready to tear his hair out in frustration. "You can't kill him, because we have to ask him questions! We need to find out who sent him!"

"Blessed One -- " Gao Somebody started, his tone oozing condescension. Wei Wuxian cut him off.

"Lan Zhan, tell them!" he said urgently, turning towards his friend with his hand stretching out in entreaty. "This isn't just the qilin thing! We need information! This guy is our only source!"

Lan Zhan looked at him. Sheathed his sword. "Wei Ying is correct," he said, then turned back to the rest of the acolytes hovering around. "Bind the assailant. What place is secure?"

Wen Ning immediately pulled out a rope. At least somebody had come prepared. Several of the others wasted time gaping and squawking at Lan Zhan's temerity rather than doing anything useful. "Wait, are you even allowed to be here?" the guard captain demanded in outrage. "You can't give orders!"

"But I can," Wei Wuxian snapped. "Find a closet or a cell or something, and put our would-be assassin there. Have somebody watch him -- better yet, several someones, because he's fast and crafty. And get a doctor to look at that head wound, because the sooner he wakes up, the sooner we'll have answers!"

That finally got them moving in the right direction. Some shrine disciples came and shuffled Xue Yang out of sight; others were dispatched to search the shrine ensure that there were no backup assassins. Yet others were dispatched to fetch the doctor out of bed. Wei Wuxian found himself shunted into a small antechamber in the shrine, alone but for Lan Zhan.

That was fine with Wei Wuxian. "Thanks for coming to my rescue, Lan Zhan," he said. "I'm glad you were nearby."

Lan Wangji inclined his head in agreement. "I am glad you were able to defend yourself against him," he said.

"Ohhh... haha, yeahh, you don't have to mention that part to the sages," Wei Wuxian said, only just then remembering the sword carried close against his side. He shoved it hastily back into its sheath, out of sight. "They don't really like me to carry this sword, let alone use it."

"If their wants were considered, you would now be dead," Lan Wangji said, his voice cold and derisive. "They are not worth consideration."

Aww, Lan Zhan. Wei Wuxian shouldn't be so warmed by Lan Wangji heaping contempt on the people who dedicated their whole lives to caring for him, but... it was nice to have somebody on his side for once.

"I really do want to question that assassin, though," he said. "We need to find out who sent him."

Lan Wangji made a noise of agreement. "The Wen?" he asked.

"I don't know. Maybe?" Wei Wuxian made a face. "We know they're capable of pulling some underhanded shit. But I also don't want to just jump to conclusions based on that. After all, they wanted to control the qilin. If I died, they wouldn't be able to do that."

"Hm. True." Lan Wangji settled back, looking faintly disgruntled.

"It could be any of the Sects, honestly," Wei Wuxian thought aloud. He hastened to add, "I mean, not the Jiang! Obviously. And not the Lan, of course. But that still leaves a lot of ambitious noblemen. A lot of disappointed, angry, entitled noblemen, if they aren't in the running to become xiandu."

"He could have acted alone," Lan Wangji said.

"Do you really think so?" Wei Wuxian was surprised. "I mean, why would he? What would he have to gain from it?"

Lan Wangji said. He made a face of his own, just the slightest trace of disgust, which Wei Wuxian found delightful. "I find it hard to understand such ways of thinking. But, there are many possibilities."

"You're right. We shouldn't leave out anything." Wei Wuxian sighed gustily. "Ah, there's no point in speculating too much. We won't know until he wakes up. Do you think..."

He trailed off mid-sentence, brooding uncertainly on the next words, until Lan Wangji gave him a questioning look.

"Do you think I should go heal him?" Wei Wuxian blurted. The thought of going near the man -- touching him -- sharing his spiritual energy with him -- was abhorrent, but if was his duty, then he'd have to suck it up. "So he wakes up sooner?"

Lan Wangji's response was swift and definite. "No."

Secretly, Wei Wuxian was relieved. "But we need answers," he said.

Lan Wangji shook his head. "Your safety is more important. You must not be within arm's reach of him."

"Okay," Wei Wuxian said. "If you're sure."

"I am sure." Lan Wangji gave him a long, intense gaze. "You must be safe, Wei Ying."

Safe. The word echoed unpleasantly in Wei Wuxian's head, calling to mind their argument from earlier that night. "Yeah, yeah," he said bitterly. " 'Cause keeping me safe is the duty your brother gave you, I know."

"No," Lan Wangji said.

" 'No' what?" Wei Wuxian demanded. He couldn't mean that Wei Wuxian should not be safe, so... 'no' what?

Lan Wangji met his gaze, his eyes boring intently into Wei Wuxian's own. "You matter to me. Not because of duty. Because you are you."

The bitterness evaporated, replaced by a warming glow. "Oh," he said softly. Still, he couldn't quite forget the argument, the three days of confusion and loneliness. "But Lan Zhan... if I matter to you, then why have you been so cold the past few days?"

"Because..." Lan Wangji broke the gaze, cast his eyes downwards. "I must lose you. To the new xiandu.

"I was trying... to prepare my heart. To build separation." Lan Wangji was struggling now, and Wei Wuxian couldn't hold onto the anger, the bitter feelings. Not when it was so achingly clear just how much Lan Wangji cared. "Instead I hurt you... hurt us both. I am sorry."

The pain in his voice struck Wei Wuxian like a dart, sending pain like poison coursing through his chest. There was a sweetness to it, though, to finally understand. To know that Lan Wangji really did care. "Lan Zhan, ah, Lan Zhan," he said at last, and gave a choked little laugh. "You silly fuddy-duddy. You'll just have to make it up to me!"

"I will stay with you as long as I can." Lan Wangji stepped towards him, so close he could see the glimmer of light under his eyelashes. He still wouldn't meet Wei Wuxian's eyes. "Until I have no choice but to depart. And I will not let anyone hurt you. Xue Yang, the Wens... not even the xiandu himself."

Wei Wuxian licked his lips, saw the way Lan Wangji's eyelids flickered in response. He's looking at my mouth, Wei Wuxian realized, dizzy with the revelation.

"Lan Zhan," he murmured, and put one hand on Lan Wangji's chest. Wove his fingers in among the lapel, a little bit, guided him forward. Lan Wangji did the rest.

Lan Wangji was warm. Wei Wuxian had known he would be. He was warm and his mouth was firm, but his lips were surprisingly soft. For a moment -- an endless moment -- the heavens themselves spun in his heart, and there was nothing and nowhere else he wanted to be.

Then the moment ended. Their lips parted, and Lan Wangji stepped back. Walked away.

Wei Wuxian opened his eyes, and didn't even try to stop the tears from flowing.

"It seems," Wen Ruohan said, "that Xue Yang has failed."

"How?" Wen Chao said incredulously. "How did he lose a fight against the most docile and gentle creature to walk the earth?"

Wen Xu rolled his eyes. "Yeah, how could someone fail a mission so easy, huh?" he sneered.

"Shut up!"

Ignoring him, Wen Xu appealed directly to their father. "Father, we have to do something. It's only a matter of time before they strike at us," he said. "We have to strike fast, and hard!"

"That's your idea of a plan?" Wen Chao spat. "Wade in and just smash everything?"

Wen Xu glared at him. "If we'd done things my way first, we wouldn't have wasted the last few weeks and painted ourselves into a corner!"

Their squabbling was derailed when their father let out a thoughtful grunt. Both young men turned their deferential attention back to him immediately; they knew better than to do otherwise. "My son is right." Wen Ruohan gestured to Wen Xu.

Wen Chao boggled. "He is?"

"I am?" Wen Xu puffed himself up. "I mean, of course I am!"

"We have tried guile, and that failed. We attempted stealth, and that failed," Wen Ruohan said. "There is only one proper course of action open to us, and that is to conquer."

"But Father..." Wen Chao's tone dropped into a whine. "Even if we kill this qilin, won't we just be in the same situation fifteen years from now?"

Wen Ruohan inclined his head. "Killing the qilin... is not enough," he acknowledged. "We must eliminate the intrusion into our world altogether. "

Now it was Wen Xu's turn to boggle. He was the one advocating force, but he would never have dreamed of taking things that far. "You can't mean --"

"The tian mu!?" Wen Chao said incredulously. "You mean to destroy the very Tree of Heaven?! Father, you can't be serious!"

"We will brook no more of Heaven's meddling," Wen Ruohan announced. "From now on, the time of the xiandu is over. The time of the warlord will begin!"

Wen Xu felt a slow smile creeping over his face. Now his father was speaking his language.

"But --" Wen Chao looked from his brother's face to his fathers, and quickly redirected his objection. "But the other clans will get in our way, surely? To say nothing of that stupid, sanctimonious qilin!"

"Don't worry, baby bro. I know what we need to do," Wen Xu informed him smugly. "And unlike you and that idiot Xue Yang, I won't fail."

~tbc...

Chapter Text

Between the excitement with Xue Yang, and the fussing of the healer afterwards (honestly, he was fine! Rinsing his eyes with a gentle salt water wash was all it took to fix him right up, his own native healing energy took care of the rest!) it was hours before Wei Wuxian was able to get to bed. Not that he got much sleep even then, lying wide awake and staring at the ceiling as possibilities raced through his mind.

Could it be the Jin? They certainly had the money to hire as many flunkies as they wanted. Meishan Yu were known for dabbling in assassination... no, but they would have sent one of their own. Maybe one of the smaller clans, the ones who were angry that their candidates couldn't compete with the Great Sects? It surely couldn't be Baling Ouyang -- they were infamously pious. Unless they had decided that he was too blasphemous to serve as a messenger of heaven. Yueyang Chang had been conspicuously absent for the entire proceedings -- was this their way of declaring rebellion? Was he overthinking this? Was the simplest answer the most likely one?

There were too many possibilities, too little data. Wei Wuxian fell into a restless doze shortly before dawn, and less than an hour later was roused by his attendants to start preparing for the morning's ceremonies. He should have been exhausted, wrecked by the lack of sleep, but he was too wired for that.

"Has the prisoner regained consciousness yet?" he asked the attendants as they wrestled his hair into the fancy official headpiece. Antlers, ugh. He would really like to know who had designed this regalia and why they thought that was a good idea.

"No, Blessed One," the disciple replied, and Wei Wuxian jittered through the rest of the setup and the trip to the courtyard to open the ceremonies. Lan Wangji followed a step behind, a cool and silent shadow.

For all that today was the final day -- the crowning finale of the entire ceremonies that had brought them here -- the atmosphere at the opening meal was distracted. Everybody was gearing up for the banquet tonight, the last chance to show off their wealth or skills or innovation. Barely an hour after Wei Wuxian had said the proper words to open the meal it was starting to break up, disciples rushing this way and that to finish last-minute errands.

The Nie were sending a contingent of their fastest fliers back to Qinghe to retrieve some important forgotten item. The Jin were overseeing the arrival of a wagonload of peony flowers. The Wen were organizing a game hunt on the mountainside, to provide fresh meat for that night's feast. Wei Wuxian quickly excused himself and Lan Wangji from the scene.

"Ah," he said, slowing to a stop as he approached the gates of the shrine. "Lan Zhan, I have to find Jiang Cheng! If he hears about last night from anyone before me, he'll definitely break my legs."

Lan Wangji frowned at him. Wei Wuxian laughed. "Not actually! It's just a saying," he exclaimed. "Lan Zhan, you take everything so seriously."

Lan Wangji pitched his voice low. "Do you believe we can trust him?"

"Of course!" Wei Wuxian said, startled by the question. "Jiang Cheng is -- well, he's not always nice, but he's honorable! He would never have been wrapped up in something like this. Nobody at Lotus Pier would."

Lan Wangji didn't argue further, but his expression still showed a few doubts. And oh, now Wei Wuxian was feeling a creeping bit of dread himself. Nobody at Lotus Pier would have been involved! Definitely not! No matter how mad Yu-furen was about all the trouble Wei Wuxian had caused for the family, or the loss of face and power he'd inflicted on them when he'd come to Pengshan...

"Never mind," he managed to say. "Let's go find Jiang Cheng."

"I should inform my brother, as well," Lan Wangji said.

Lan Wangji wouldn't let him leave the shrine to circulate among the camps, so they ended up sending a runner to carry a message to Jiang Cheng: come to the inner shrine so that Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji could tell him something important.

Before he could arrive, though, one of the inner disciples rushed into the room. "Blessed one," she said, all out of breath from the run. "He's awake! The, the criminal, Xue Yang is awake!"

---

Peng Lu Gong didn't truly have a dungeon, or cells. But they did have a few dusty storage closets in the older, more uncomfortable parts of the shrine that were suitably far from daylight and had good sturdy bolts on the door, and that was good enough.

The shrine's residents weren't taking the threat of Xue Yang casually by any means. Half of the disciples who did guard duty were packed in here, and the rest outside only because the closet couldn't fit any more. Xue Yang had so many ropes wound around his arms and torso that he looked a little bit like a wasp's nest. (Hopefully at least somebody had thought of searching him to relieve him of any other knives or little poison surprises. Wei Wuxian had total faith in them.)

Just to be safe, he brought Suibian into the makeshift prison with him, and Lan Zhan flanked him close behind. He made sure he was out of arm's reach of Xue Yang, then crouched and settled on his heels to look at him.

Xue Yang looked... surprisingly calm for someone in his position. Either he was confident that the servants of the qilin posed no serious physical threat to him, or he simply didn't fear either torture or death. He looked a little groggy, but sat up on his own, with a sly little smile hovering around his mouth that made Wei Wuxian wonder.

The disciples had insisted that Wei Wuxian should not lead the interrogation, although he had insisted right back that he should at least get to be there. Gao Somebody (Gao Luo, courtesy Shangyan, Wei Wuxian remembered him now) stepped forward and stood with his feet planted in front of Xue Yang, arms crossed belligerently. "Who are you?"

"Xue Yang."

"What clan are you affiliated with? Where are you from?" Gao Luo demanded.

"No clan." Xue Yang managed a shrug, despite the restraining bulk of the ropes. "I'm from all over, really, but originally Yunping. I'm what you might call a 'street rat.' " His gaze flickered past Gao Luo, landing on Wei Wuxian, and his smile curled a little bit more. "I'll understand if Your Holiness isn't familiar with the term."

Wei Wuxian decided not to address that.

The guard captain, who'd been shadowing his other side across from Lan Zhan, stepped forward with her hand hovering near his elbow. "Blessed One, perhaps you should not be here," she suggested. "The lengths that may be necessary to provoke honesty from this criminal..."

Xue Yang laughed. "If you think I'm afraid of pain, you really have got the wrong guy!" he said cheerfully. Then he leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. "But anyway, I'll spare you the trouble. It was Wen Ruohan."

"What?" Gao Luo gaped. "You'd give up your employer's name so easily?!"

"Why wouldn't I?" Xue Yang said. "I mean, he gave me money to kill somebody. It's not like we have a cherished decades-long relationship here."

"How do we know we can believe you?" the guard captain demanded suspiciously.

"You don't!" Xue Yang smirked at her. "But you have just as much reason to believe me now as you would after you tortured me, wouldn't you?"

Gao Luo and the guard captain fell back, looking at each other and rather at a loss for what to do. Wei Wuxian decided to step in, and tried not to think too hard about the way Xue Yang's eyes raked over him. Like he was already measuring him for the coffin. Lan Zhan matched him step for step, hand ready on his sword.

"Have you done other jobs for Wen Ruohan?" Wei Wuxian asked.

"Sure, from time to time." Another bulky shrug. "Whenever he needs somebody outside the Wen lands killed. Or if he needs some special materials gathered. Or if he needs a distraction. Though that last one, I would have done for free. I owed the Changs from way back, anyway. I'd made a promise." For the first time, the smiling amusement ran out of his face entirely, leaving it looking... like a fire-scar, really, like the burned gulley outside Dafan Village.

"Changs?" Wei Wuxian shook his head, trying to make the connection. Then it clicked. "The Chang Sect? The ones who are running late?"

The smile returned to Xue Yang's face, a sly grin like the licking flames of a forest fire. "Oh, they're late all right," he chuckled.

Wei Wuxian paused, uneasy. What what that supposed to mean? Because it sounded like --

"Renshou --" Gao Luo said, stepping forward hesitantly. Wei Wuxian looked over at him and, for the first time, Gao Luo quailed and stepped back.

"Oh? They didn't tell you?" Xue Yang's chuckles busted into full-on laughter. "That's fucking hilarious! They really do treat you like a baby, hahaha. The Changs won't be attending any parties, ever again. I made sure of that!"

"Blessed One." The guard captain stepped forward, hand hovering over Wei Wuxian's shoulder. "Enough of this madman. We should go, there are preparations we must make."

"Wait," Wei Wuxian shook off the hand, for once in no mood to be herded. "There is one thing I need to know before we go."

Wei Wuxian sank down to sit on his heels, facing Xue Yang but out of his reach, trying to map him down to the fullest detail. "What happened to you?" he said at last, his voice quiet. "What in the world could have happened to make you like this?"

As soon as Xue Yang had said the words street rat Wei Wuxian felt a startled frission, like glimpsing a familiar face in the most unexpected of places. Xue Yang felt like someone he might have known once -- maybe even might have been, once. And yet at the same time -- the chasm between them was impassable, incomprehensible.

The street rats of Wei Wuxian's childhood had been wary and wily, self-sufficient and highly protective of their own welfare. But they had not, as a rule, been prone to violence. They'd snatch a piece of food or a coin if it was left unattended, but they wouldn't get into a fight for one -- because every fight, even the ones you won, carried the risk of injury. And living in the thin margin between survival and starvation, even a minor injury could be the one that festered, the one that slowed you down and left you unable to run, unable to steal. Even a scratch could kill you.

So the street kids Wei Wuxian had known were wild things, yes, but wary of violence. Xue Yang was different, and Wei Wuxian did not understand why.

"What?" Some of the wild laughter dried up, flickering into surprise. Then confusion, then suspicion, then hostility. "What do you care?"

It was Wei Wuxian's turn to shrug. "I might surprise you."

"Who asked to be surprised? I don't care what you think," Xue Yang said. His voice began to rise as he went on talking, working himself up into some high emotion. "What, you want to hear a sob story so that you can feel sorry for the poor little guttersnipe? So that you can shake your head and tut over the thought of what hunger can make people do? So that you can get off to the thought of a bunch of grown men hurting a child? What's the point? What good would that do anyone now?"

"If I understand," Wei Wuxian said softly, "then... maybe I could help you. Or at least others like you."

"Ha! That's rich!" Despite the faked laughter, Xue Yang's voice was all snarls now. "That you think you could do anything about the lowest of the low even if you tried, even if you cared. You think that you can work miracles? You think you can reshape the world in your own feeble image?"

Wei Wuxian just looked at him. "Yes. Why else would I exist?"

"Fuck! You!" Xue Yang shouted each word precisely, like flung stones. "Your famous compassion is a sham, qilin. It's meaningless! It doesn't matter what answer I give you, because your flunkies will kill me as soon as you leave the room."

Wei Wuxian glanced to the side, at the shrine guards. It was an ongoing struggle to make his wishes heard, even now. But he thought that he could be pretty convincing on this one. "Not if I forbid it."

"And you think that matters? You think they'll obey you? Hahahaha!" He broke down into giggles, the fire-ravaged anger subsiding again under the concealing shroud of cruel humor. "Fine, let's say they do. That you let me live, because you're weak-hearted idiot. I'm not going to change and I'm not going to stop! As long as there's still fools in the world, I've got a knife sharp enough to carve my own way through them.

"I am going to keep on killing people -- unless you let them kill me." He grinned up at Wei Wuxian, his smile a knife-slash across his face. "Either way, blessed one, the blood will be on your hands."

Wei Ying stood up, his face going hard. He'd heard about as much as he cared to out of Xue Yang.

"No," he said. Xue Yang only laughed.

Wei Wuxian took a deep breath, and began to call on his spiritual power.

"Xue Yang," he said. "Attend. I name thee, Xue Yang, and I name thy fate."

He drew in the air in front of him in precise strokes, each one leaving glowing golden lines hanging in the air in front of him. As he connected one to another, the lines began to feather outwards, forming intricate symbols and patterns; the name Xue Yang hung at the very center.

Xue Yang stopped laughing. "What --" he demanded, but Wei Wuxian swept right over him.

"For too long you have wandered the earth at will, hurting and killing others for nothing more than your own pleasure," Wei Wuxian said, sweeping his arms up and around as he worked on building the seal. "The balance must be restored.

"From this day forward, any harm you do to another living person will be as though it were done to yourself. If you cut someone, you will be cut. If you break their bones, your own bone will be broken. And if you strike them down, you yourself will be struck down in that same instant. Thus I name thee, Xue Yang, and thy fate is named."

The array flashed, filmy golden light going bright actinic white for an instant before it flickered again, somehow dimmer and yet more solid than before. It drifted forward, like a cobweb caught in a draft; settled around Xue Yang like a net and began to sink into his skin.

Xue Yang howled and thrashed, but he could not stop the magic from taking root. "No! No, you can't! You stupid goat, you have no idea what the world is like out there!" he protested. "It's full of cruelty, full of pain. What am I supposed to do if I can't fight back, if I can't even defend myself? There's too many people out there that have it in for me, that want to kill me! How am I supposed to protect myself from them like this?"

Wei Wuxian sat back. He felt an aching tiredness, more than could be accounted for by sitting on the cold stone floor for less than an hour. He hadn't felt this drained since he'd awakened Wen Ning, although he'd only used a fraction of the power. "Most people manage to go an entire lifetime without getting murdered, somehow," he said. "You're a pretty clever fellow. You'll figure something out."

He turned on his heel and walked out of the storage room, Lan Zhan keeping pace.

Only once the door had shut behind them, and they'd put enough distance that Xue Yang's furious shouts became muffled, did Lan Zhan speak. "I did not know," he said. "That you had the capability to lay... compulsions."

"Ohh, uhh, yeah." Wei Wuxian rubbed his hand down his face, feeling oddly embarrassed, as though he'd been caught doing something foolish. He gave Lan Wangji a sheepish look. "The qilin of old could do all sorts of things with spells and seals! There's tons of 'em in the books here. If you can figure out which of the words are part of the actual spell, then you can clean out the rest and put your own words in... But it's not something that I think I'd want to do lightly, you know? Messing with somebody's fate... that's a pretty heavy thing."

"Mm." Lan Zhan inclined his head in agreement. "I found it..."

He trailed off. Wei Wuxian gave a little laugh, feeling on pins and needles from the uncertainty. "Found it what?" he said. "Scary? Cool? If it's cool you have to tell me."

Lan Zhan considered his words for another deliberate moment. "Majestic," he said at last.

Wei Wuxian stopped in his tracks. Lan Zhan was giving him a heavy-lidded look that... honestly seemed to imply a lot more than majesty! That kind of seemed to imply that he'd like to drag Wei Wuxian behind another kind of closed door entirely, actually!

Wei Wuxian had always thought of himself as a shameless sort of person, very easy in his skin, but what was he supposed to do when the Second Jade of Lan gave a person a look like that?

He blushed.

The guard captain cleared her throat loudly, and Wei Wuxian jumped. He'd completely forgotten she was there and given by Lan Zhan's sudden tension, so had he. "Okay!" he said, clapping his hands together and smiling brightly. "Back to business, yeah?"

They all ended up in Shen Yi's office: the Head Sage herself, Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji, the guard captain, and a few of the higher-ranking disciples. Wen Ning somehow wound up in the far corner of the meeting, although most of the other shrine workers didn't even seem to notice him.

"Well," Shen Yi said, sinking down on the cushion behind her desk with a weary creak of bones. "At last we know the architect of all our troubles."

"It figures it would be them," the guard captain grumbled. "But, what are we going to do? The Wen are strong, and brought a lot of their strength with them. They have as many fighters as the rest of the clans combined!"

"We have to let the other Sects know," Wei Wuxian said. He thought of Jiang Cheng, imagined Uncle Jiang's response to today's revelations. Let alone what Yu-furen would have thought. "They won't stand for Wen Ruohan trying to interfere like this, to set himself up over the rest of them, even over Heaven himself!"

"It is true that this hubris cannot be permitted to go forward," Shen Yi said. "But we should not act too rashly."

"How would it be acting rashly to tell the truth?" Wei Wuxian demanded.

"Our only proof is the word of a criminal," Shen Yi pointed out. "If the Wen refute him, as easily as he has refuted them, then they can claim slander. The other sects might be reluctant to act."

"Lan Sect will stand with the qilin," Lan Wangji put in firmly. "I can testify to the Wen clan's misdeeds. My brother will not refute my word."

"Jiang Sect would, too!" Wei Wuxian added. "And I bet Nie Mingjue would jump on any chance to stick it to the Wens."

"Even so. Captain Chen is right that the Wen clan hold a powerful numerical advantage," Shen Yi returned. "If any of the sects hesitate, or refuse to join us, we could be overwhelmed."

"Well, what do we suggest you do, then? We can't let them get away with this!"

"Nor should we," Shen Yi said. "The situation is tenuous now. But our standing will improve greatly by nightfall."

"What's... oh." Wei Wuxian cut off the question as soon as he asked it. "You mean... the xiandu."

"Exactly." Shen Yi nodded. "The xiandu will be announced at tonight's banquet. They will have the authority, which we in ourselves lack, to lay accusations in the proper forms and command the other sects to join us."

On that hopeful note, the meeting broke up. Lan Wangji followed Wei Wuxian out, and Wen Ning fell in behind them.

"I don't like this, Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian told him in a low voice as they walked the hallways. "I don't like doing nothing."

"I agree," Lan Wangji said. "The Wens must know by now that their plan has failed. They may be plotting further moves."

Wen Ning spoke up. "Uhm, Blessed One," he said. "Would it be helpful if I went and listened in on their encampment?"

"Oh! You could do that?" Wei Wuxian's first response was delight, before he actually stopped to think it through. "Oh, no, Wen Ning, I can't let you put yourself in danger that way! If you were seen --"

"Don't worry, I won't be seen!" Wen Ning waved his hands as though to brush off the very possibility of being seen. "I don't mean to just walk up to them. I was going to go through the caves."

Wei Wuxian blinked. "Caves, what caves?"

"Oh, uh." Wen Ning faltered. "You don't know about the caves?"

"This region is full of caves, renshou," one of the other junior disciples put in respectfully. "This area of the mountains is made of soft rock, which can be worn away by water over time. That is what caused the unique formations in this area, such as the stone maze."

Wen Ning nodded eagerly. "Yes! The area around my village is the same," he said. "I used to spend a lot of time exploring, I knew the caves and gullies pretty well. I've been learning the ones around here, too! There's a whole gallery that runs right underneath where the Wen set up their camp. I was exploring it the other day and I heard my uncle talking through an opening in the stone."

"That is extremely fortuitous," Lan Wangji remarked.

"Uh, yeah, it sure is!" Wei Wuxian couldn't believe that he'd been living at Pengshan for three years and managed to know less about the land around the shrine than Wen Ning had been able to find out in three days. "But Wen Ning, are you really okay with this? You don't object to going against your family?"

"Oh, well, not really?" Wen Ning faltered, giving Wei Wuxian a wide-eyed look. "Helping Wei-renshou is the right thing to do! If my family has decided to go against that, I can't really help that, but I have to do what is right."

Wei Wuxian frowned. "Just because I'm the qilin doesn't mean I'd ask you to --"

"It's not about that!" Wen Ning interrupted, then quickly backtracked. "Well, not really? Wei-renshou... you helped me. Even after everyone else gave it up as impossible, you helped me.

"And I know you protected my sister, too -- you never told anyone about what she tried to do." He gave Wei Wuxian a determined gaze, all hints of waffling and shyness gone. "I want to help you -- even if it means going against my family -- not because you're the qilin, but because you're a good person."

It took Wei Wuxian a moment to be able to respond to that. Even when he did, his voice was a little choked up. "Okay," he said.

Off to the side, he saw Lan Wangji regarding Wen Ning with an expression of open approval; one of the first times he'd seen such a look on the other boy's face.

By the time they made it out to the main courtyard, the feast had already started. Wei Wuxian was somewhat disgruntled by that, but he supposed it was his own fault; he ditched enough of these events that they eventually learned to simply start without him.

The fields and courses were taken down, the equipment and flags packed away, in order to make space for all the assembled guests to sit and eat at once. Wei Wuxian's head table was still up on the dais in front, giving everyone in the room a good view of him (and vice versa.) From up there it was a sea of tables decorated by a rainbow of different Sect's colors.

Some of the space was also given to display. Whole chickens skewered on sticks, plates piled with ingot-shaped dumplings and long rolls, lotus and lily blossom soup. Some of the foods -- like the fresh scallops, or the platter stacked high with pomelos -- had to have been brought up from the foot of the mountain just last night. There was a table further down the field entirely devoted to the weight of an enormous pig, dressed and skewered and roasted on a spit, bedecked with fruits and flowers. Wei Wuxian tried not to look at that one too closely.

He knew, of course, that eating meat was not in itself immoral. As the spider needed the fly, as the cat needed the mouse, so too did humans need to eat. Not everyone could live as the Lan do; especially for most poor folk, they couldn't afford to pass up any source of protein they can get. But that didn't mean he enjoyed looking at the process, the reminder that a living thing suffered and died for the sake of all this gaiety. People seemed to really be enjoying the roast pig -- servants hurried up to cut sleeves off it every few minutes on request of their masters, and many of the guests cheered and toasted the hunters who contributed it.

Wei Wuxian snuck a look over at Lan Zhan. He, at least, did not look especially impressed by the display of meat. Not that Lan Zhan ever looked impressed.

The gaudy banquet was only a distraction to the restlessness Wei Wuxian felt. He barely touched his food; he was not hungry. He glanced over towards the Wen tables; they had been seated towards the outside of the feasting area, since theirs was the largest party. He couldn't see too many figures in Wen red and white from here, and none of them looked like Wen Ruohan and his sons. Most likely they were back in their own encampment just outside the shrine boundaries. Hopefully Wen Ning was able to keep an eye on them.

For himself, he just needed to get through this dinner, and... and to choose the xiandu. He thought he would feel relief that all his waffling was being taken away from him; he must choose now, sign from Heaven or no. Only with the authority of the xiandu behind them could they lay charges against the Wen, or rally the other clans against them.

So. He had to choose. A small part of him whispered: if I'm choosing on my own anyway, then why not Lan Zhan? But the clear-headed part of him knew that was impossible. Since he wouldn't have Heaven's sign on his side, they couldn't afford for his new xiandu to be viewed with any doubt or suspicion. It had to be someone that everybody would accept, that everybody would expect. Lan Zhan hadn't joined in any of the competitions since day one; it couldn't be him.

Nie Mingjue, then. Or Lan Xichen. Nie Mingjue would be a good pick for opposing the Wen, certainly; he would seize the opportunity to push back against them, as hard as necessary. But Wei Wuxian had to consider the future, too: they might be stuck with his false pick for xiandu for who knew how many years. He had to pick someone who would govern in peace as well as triumph in war.

Before he can second-guess himself any longer, Wei Wuxian gulped back the last of his tea -- he really wished for wine, but he wasn't allowed to drink wine in public -- and stood up. "Lan-zongzhu," he said, pitching his voice to project to the far edge of the banquet area. "Lan Xichen, approach."

The sages who were also seated at the head table glanced significantly at each other, giving subtle nods. A ripple of interest began to spread outward through the crowd, heads turning as people nudged each other to attend.

Lan Xichen stood from his place gracefully, taking only a moment to straighten his robes, and began to approach the head table. He took his time -- no doubt he suspected what this was about, and his carefully controlled pace allowed for more and more heads to turn as the attention of the crowd was captured.

At his elbow Lan Zhan had gone rigidly, painfully tense. "Wei Ying," he said, his voice small and lost and aching with pain. "Wei Ying, please, no."

Wei Wuxian shot him an astonished sideways glance; he didn't think Lan Zhan would object to this. "He's the best choice," he murmured, barely moving his lips.

"Anyone," Lan Zhan said. "Anyone but him."

"But, Lan Zhan, this means we can spend more time together!" Wei Wuxian whispered back to him. "I don't see why --"

Their low-voice argument was interrupted. When Lan Xichen was only steps away from the head table, a commotion broke out over on the far side of the room. One of the Jin cultivators had started to rise -- apparently in an attempt to better see what was going on at the head table -- and collapsed to the floor instead.

Attention, for the moment, was diverted. But even as several servants rushed to the fallen Jin man's side, voices began to rise in consternation from other sides. Several more people attempted to stand, only to collapse to the floor. Others, even when shaken, did not move from their tables at all. Nie Mingjue, in the moment he should have been most attentive -- the moment when his best friend would have been crowned his new ruler -- instead was slumped forward across the table on his elbows, head hanging, as his brother shook his shoulder and frantically importuned him to rise.

"What's happening?" Wei Wuxian demanded. He glanced over at the other sages, who looked confused, and at Lan Zhan, who shook his head worriedly.

"That is what I was going to ask you," Lan Xichen said, closing the last few steps to the head table. At the moment, though, announcing the new xiandu was the last thing on Wei Wuxian's mind. He stood up, scanning the banquet area, trying to make sense of the chaos.

The disruption was widespread, if intermittent. Some people seemed to be completely overcome, collapsed onto the tables or the floors; others stood but staggered about, clutching their stomachs, while yet others seemed to be only a little dazed. He could barely see anyone in red and white Wen colors at all. The shrine disciples were unaffected, as were most of the servants, and -- this was the part that confused him -- the Lan. All of the white-robed Lan cultivators, not only Lan Xichen, were alert and alarmed, looking to their leader for cues.

What was different about the Lan? They didn't drink alcohol, but the cultivators had been tossing down wine and spirits night after night this entire gathering without effect. They didn't eat meat.

They didn't eat meat.

The last of the red-clad Wen had disappeared, but a volume of noise was beginning to gather from their encampment beyond -- the retreating of the tide before a tidal wave crashed over them. One of the Jin servant girls scurried by; Wei Wuxian's arm shot out and grabbed them, swinging them around. The servant stopped, looking torn between her errand and the inarguable authority of the qilin. "H-holy one?" she said nervously.

"The meat," Wei Wuxian said. "Where did the meat for this feast come from?"

The girl swallowed. "Th-the Wen went on a great hunt... they generously donated their bounty for this final banquet..."

Behind him, Lan Zhan hissed sharply. "Poison!"

The banquet grounds were transformed into a battlefield. Cultivators were left stricken on the ground, unconscious or moaning, while the Lan hurried to rally around their sect leader. From the direction of the Wen encampment, figures began to march forward -- swords drawn, in direct violation of the strict prohibitions of Peng Lu Gong.

Wei Wuxian felt a hollow, sinking sensation -- the ground seeming to lurch under his feet -- as he realized the enormity of their mistake. The Wens had realized that their assassin had failed, and they had used the last few hours of to launch a new plot -- a way to keep the other Sects out of the way while they launched their coup...

Then he realized that neither the lurching nor sinking sensation were in his head. The ground itself was canting under his feet, sending him stumbling -- and moments later there was an enormous, shattering crash from the open space beyond the banquet grounds, as dozens of voices were raised in shouting and consternation. The Wen cultivators who had been heading in their direction stopped and turned back, confused and dismayed by the disaster that had overtaken their sect, and most vanished in the rising dust cloud.

"What is going on?" Lan Xichen said, raising his voice to be heard over the cacophony.

The answer came to Wei Wuxian in a flash of insight, but there was no time to unpack it for Lan Xichen now. What mattered was that they had gained a little bit of time to act -- maybe only minutes, but then maybe minutes would be enough. "We have to get back to the shrine!" he shouted, aiming his words at Lan-zongzhu. "I'll explain later -- the Wen are about to attack. We can defend the shrine from the inside! Get everybody behind the gates!"

Lan Xichen stared at him in disbelief for a moment, but then shook himself free of the shock and spun around to address his cultivators. "Lan cultivators, with me!" he called out, using spiritual energy to amplify his voice.

Wei Wuxian tried to linger, looking over his shoulder at the poisoning victims. What was going to happen to them? Was the poison fatal? They couldn't just leave them to the mercy of the Wen, could they?

But Lan Zhan grabbed his arm and pulled him with irresistible strength onto his sword, and he had no choice. He went.

A quarter-hour of chaos later they found themselves back in the shrine's main hall, the great doors locked and barred; Captain Chen was overseeing a hasty barricade, though it wouldn't last long against a determined assault. A determined assault, Lan Wangji was certain, that would come shortly. As soon as they dug themselves out of the collapse, the Wen would be back with a vengeance; they would recover long before the drugged cultivators could.

Assuming the drugged cultivators recovered at all. Incapacitated as they were, they would be lambs for the Wen to slaughter as they lay helpless. It was an ugly thought, but there was no helping it; their headlong rush to shelter had barely saved them, there had been no time to try to protect the others. All they could do now was to block the Wen from their true objective, and hope that Wen Ruohan intended to rule over the rest of the sects as subjects and not just as corpses.

He decided not to share these thoughts with Wei Ying. They would only distress him.

He looked around, trying to take stock of who they had to defend the shrine. Himself and Lan Xichen. The shrine guards, who had not taken part in the banquet, and whoever among the visiting cultivators had not eaten the tainted meat. His people, of course, who were vegetarian. A handful of disciples from other sects who had been on duty, or otherwise hadn't gotten around to eating dinner. And, to his surprise...

"Jiang Cheng!" Wei Ying said, delighted. He went in for a hug, grinning from ear to ear as he enveloped his former sect-brother in his arms. Jiang Wanyin endured this with absolute ill-grace, wriggling free of the grasp at the first opportunity.

When Wei Ying did pull back, it was only far enough to put his hands on Jiang Wanyin's shoulders. "How did you avoid getting drugged? How did you know that the Wen were planning a coup?"

Jiang Wanyin rolled his eyes. "I didn't know what they were planning," he said, "and a heads up about that would have been nice, actually. But what I did know was that I was seated across from Wen Chao, and he spent the entire damn banquet smirking and gloating every time anyone went for a slice of that fucking boar, making smarmy comments about how the meat was 'to die for' or 'the best meat you'll ever eat for the rest of your life' and shit like that. I'm not an idiot."

Lan Wangji had to concede that was reasonable.

"And what did you know about this?" Jiang Wanyin demanded. "You knew that it was the Wen before they even attacked -- and that crash! What was all that about!?"

"Yes, what did happen, Wei-renshou?" put in his brother, coming over to him from where he'd been speaking to their sect-brothers. "You said you would explain once we got to the shrine."

"I'm not certain," Wei Ying said. Despite the disaster of the last half-hour he was bright-eyed and energetic, exhilarated. "But I think it might have been Wen Ning."

"What?"

"Remember the caverns he told us about?" Wei Ying asked, turning to include Lan Wangji and the others in the conversation. "The ones that run out under the valley?"

Shen Yi nodded. "Yes, they're quite extensive in this region. We do occasionally get cave-ins and faults, but never on that scale."

"Right, well..." Wei Ying shrugged. "Wen Ning offered to go into the caves under the Wen encampment in order to listen in on what his uncle had planned. He would have been right there when the coup started, and... maybe he didn't have enough time to get back to us to report what he heard. Maybe he decided to do something right away."

"You think that Wen Ning caused the cave-in?" Jiang Wanyin said. "Timid little Wen Ning?!"

"I'm just saying -- he was in the right place at the right time, and he knows a lot about caves." Wei Ying bit his lip. "I just hope he got out in time. I promised his sister I'd look after him! If he got hurt..."

Jiang Wanyin shook his head in disbelief. "If that kid can cause a collapse that dumps an entire war camp into a cave, I think I'd be more worried about who he hurts!"

Lan Xichen actually laughed, which was not very helpful. Lan Wangji did his best to steer the conversation back on track. "It won't hold them," he said. "Their cultivation is strong. They all have swords. They will be regrouping."

Lan Xichen sobered quickly. "Of course, you're right, Wangji," he said. "We must assume they will return at nearly full strength. What do we have to mount a defense?"

"The shrine is not without its defenses," Shen Yi said. "The stone maze at the front was created for just such an emergency. With it, a small force should be able to hold against a larger one. And the mingling guai, of course, are quite formidable. If your people will lend us their assistance, Sect Leader Lan, then I have faith that we can hold out against their assault."

Lan Xichen nodded, but his brows were bent together. "Wangji is right, however. Most of the Wen cultivators still have their swords. What if they attempt to fly over the maze, or attack from above?"

"I'd like to see them try that," Jiang Wanyin cut in roughly. "Give me a dozen archers to station behind the walls, and anyone who tries to overfly them will be hedgehogs before they hit the ground!"

"Great! We've covered all the bases, then," Wei Ying cheered. "And I'll... uh..." he faltered under the combined weight of a dozen different stares.

"Don't even fucking think about it," Jiang Wanyin growled.

"...Stay safely inside and heal the wounded?" Wei Ying finished meekly.

A sigh of relief ran through the room. Lan Wangji, of course, would stay by his side. Even if the Wen broke through every one of their defenses, they would not harm Wei Ying while he still drew breath.

Lan Xichen and the head sage firmly ordered Wei Ying to put himself out of sight; he and Lan Wangji settled in a small room a short way off the main hall. Their seclusion didn't stop them from being able to keep track of the battle, though; Wei Ying had a fiendishly clever set of temporary mirror talismans that let them watch what was going on despite several corners and great distance.

Wen Xu was leading the charge; Lan Wangji didn't see any sign of Wen-zongzhu among the press of red-and-white bodies trying to force their way into the shrine. Wen Xu was dangerous enough -- fortunately Lan Xichen was there to oppose him. Lan Xichen had faced off against Wen Xu several times at the last Discussion Conference held at Qishan, and Lan Wangji knew that his brother was the better swordsman between them.

The scores of Wen soldiers he commanded was another problem -- but at least the narrowing of the valley up to the great gate served as a bottleneck. The archers stationed along the walls, led by Jiang Wanyin, stopped them from flying over. Through the barricade at the front door, the Wen could only come at them a handful at a time, and so far the defenders were able to hold the portal.

For now, at least. There was no telling how long the siege might last. The Wen could rotate in fresh fighters, while the defenders must eventually tire.

Wei Ying kept turning the mirror-talisman to track Jiang Wanyin's reflection up on the wall, then the battle at the door, until he finally gave in and flicked out another talisman so that he could keep track of both at once. The worry was clear on his face as he watched his younger brother draw and fire, and Lan Wangji thought it ate away at Wei Ying to watch his younger sibling in battle when he himself must hold back. Lan Wangji felt the same ebbing guilt when he watched his own brother in battle without him; and yet, the two brotherly dynamics couldn't be more different.

"Wei Ying," Lan Wangji said, at length.

"Hmm?" Wei Ying didn't tear his eyes away from the mirror, but he tilted his head to show that he was listening. "What is it?"

"Is Jiang Wanyin always..." He searched for words to capture the essence of Jiang Wanyin, but for once poetry failed him. "Like that?" he finished, frustrated.

"What, you mean grumpy?" Wei Ying laughed. "Of course! It's just his way. He's so prickly, he only feels comfortable snarking and complaining. But he really does care, it's just that he shows it by threatening to break your legs. You just gotta know his language!"

Lan Wangji shook his head -- not in disagreement, simply in disbelief.

"It's a brother thing!" Wei Ying insisted. "Aren't you and your brother like that too?"

"Not at all," Lan Wangji said. "We always got along."

Wei Ying's smile became softer, sweeter. "Nothing quite like a brother, huh?" He leaned over to nudge Lan Wangji with his shoulder. "I bet he was your best friend."

"Not quite... friends." Once again, Lan Wangji struggled for the proper words to encapsulate difficult, ephemeral concepts. "There was the age gap, but... Xiongzhang was always kind."

Lan Wangji had always loved his brother. Until meeting Wei Ying he had held uncontested place as Lan Wangji's favorite person in the world, save perhaps for his long-gone mother. There was never any acrimony between them; they were always two of a kind. And yet... and yet.

He loved his brother, but there had always been things that Lan Xichen was allowed to have, that Lan Wangji had never been able to have. Things beyond even a dream of a grasp.

"Lan Zhan, there's one thing I don't understand," Wei Ying said, and Lan Wangji realized he had let the conversation lapse. "Why were you upset, earlier?"

Lan Wangji slanted a disbelieving look in Wei Ying's direction. "Because the Wens attacked," he said, meaning, obviously.

"No, no, before that! When I called Lan Xichen up!" Wei Ying exclaimed. "You seemed like you really didn't want me to choose your brother as xiandu, and I don't understand why. Isn't he pretty great?"

Lan Wangji flinched, felt his jaws creak with the force of it, before he pried them open again to croak, "Yes. He is perfect. He always has been."

"Then, why would it upset you?" Wei Ying looked bewildered. "It's not ideal that we have to pick someone without Heaven's official blessing, but I can't imagine your brother would do a bad job. He's helping with the Wens, and he'd rule well in peacetime too. And if I lived in Gusu, then I'd get to see you more! We could hang out all the time! I mean, that wasn't why I chose -- "

"That's why," Lan Wangji said.

His voice had been barely audible behind Wei Ying's stream of words, but of course he heard them and stopped instantly. "Huh?"

"To be so close to you, and yet apart..." Lan Wangji felt a shiver run through his body, escaping all attempts to still himself. "I could not bear it."

"Oh," Wei Ying said softly. "Oh."

Yes, oh. Lan Wangji looked very intently at the wall, refusing to look at Wei Ying now. He didn't want to see the pity on his face.

"I'm sorry, Lan Zhan, I didn't realize," Wei Ying said quietly. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"No matter." Of course he hadn't. He never would. Lan Wangji inhaled deeply, and tried to push his hurt away. Lock it down, under the solid practical shell of what must be. "You are correct. He is the best choice."

"I mean, you know him better than anyone," Wei Ying said. "If there's some reason you think he wouldn't be good..."

"No. He is good," Lan Wangji was quick to reassure him. "I knew, even before we came to Pengshan, that if one of us were to be chosen it would be him. He is... better."

"Better than you, you mean?" Wei Ying sounded skeptical. "Pssht, as if."

"It is true," Lan Wangji insisted. "He is... kind. Gentle. Diplomatic. Good with people, good with words. I am none of those things." He frowned down at the sword on his lap, resting across his knees in easy reach. "I am not... easy."

Wei Ying stared at him with wide, astonished eyes. "But Lan Zhan, that's why I like you!" he exclaimed.

Lan Wangji stared back, trying to convey his disbelief with only his gaze. Wei Ying only grinned, nudging his ankle with his foot. "Because you're the real item, you know?" he said. "No pretensions! You have such strong opinions on everybody and you don't hide it! It's great!

"I've seen you, you know," Wei Ying continued, his voice softer, more sincere. "You're kind to the servants, to the lower shrine acolytes, but you won't give the time of day to some blustering Nie asshole who can't stop talking about how much he likes killing things. I -- I like that about you, so much. You're so good, Lan Zhan, you really are so good."

"You..." Once more Lan Wangji was left reeling, grasping for words that slipped out of his hands like water. "I..."

"Ei, Lan Zhan, don't you know how much I like you?" Wei Ying bumped his shoulder against him again, gently, but this time he stayed. He let his head hang down, speaking to the front of Lan Wangji's robe. "I like you, I admire you, I whatever you. You must know that if it were up to me, I'd take you over your brother in a heartbeat! I wish I could stay with you forever. I wish I could leave this temple with you, and we could travel around solving mysteries and helping people." He took a deep, sharp breath. "I wish it more than anything."

Lan Wangji swallowed around what felt like a boulder of grief. "I... the same," he said softly, when he could speak again. "But..."

"I know," Wei Ying said, his voice muffled against Lan Wangji's shoulder.

"We cannot," Lan Wangji said, his throat dry. "We both have duties..."

"I know!" Wei Ying sat up straight, so fast that he overbalanced and tipped away from Lan Wangji. Or maybe that was on purpose, to try to put some distance between them, to try to keep his face turned away.

"Wei Ying," Lan Wangji said, and he found himself at a complete loss for what to say next.

He never got the chance, because the pounding of footsteps in the corridor brought him to his feet, sword in hand. He shoved Wei Ying behind him and drew his sword -- but Wei Ying grabbed his arm as the door flew open, because the person behind it was Jiang Wanyin.

"Wei Wuxian!" Jiang Wanyin shouted. Lan Wangji registered another person in the corridor behind him; Hati, one of the shrine's mingling guai.

"Jiang Cheng!" Wei Ying let go of his arm to place a hand on Jiang Wanyin's shoulder, instead. "What is it? Have they broken through?"

Jiang Wanyin shook his head. "Not at the gates, but -- Wen Ruohan is coming!"

Wei Ying gasped. "Coming here?"

"No! He and a small group -- they were on their swords, flying high." Jiang Wanyin took a deep breath, straightening up after running hard to get here. "I shot at them, but he managed to deflect the arrows even while flying! I've never seen anything like it --"

"Jiang Cheng, calm down. You aren't making sense," Wei Ying said. "If Wen Ruohan's not coming here, then where is he going?"

"I don't know!" Jiang Wanyin sounded frustrated. "They were heading towards the back of the shrine, further up the mountain. I thought you'd know!"

Wei Ying whipped around, and his and Lan Wangji's eyes locked in a moment of sudden realization. To the north of the shrine, further up the mountain, was --

"The tree," Lan Wangji said, speaking the dread truth aloud.

"The tian mu!" Wei Ying shouted. He ran towards the door, past a startled and angry-looking Jiang Wanyin; there was nothing the rest of them could do but follow.

The four of them sprinted through the shrine; two cultivators, the loyal demon, and the qilin of Wu. After a slow moment getting started Jiang Wanyin caught up, and pulled ahead to talk to Wei Ying as he ran.

"You seriously think he would damage the sacred tree? He must be mad!" Jiang Wanyin said. "That would be blasphemy!"

Wei Ying looked grim. "At this point I'll believe anything of him."

"This cannot be borne," Lan Wangji said, drawing level with them. "All of Wu Kingdom would rise against him."

"Forget Wu Kingdom. Every kingdom will rise to unite against him, if he seeks to harm the sacred tree," Hati said. "They will sweep into Wu Kingdom as a storm, and crush everything in their way."

"We can't let that happen!" Jiang Wanyin shouted.

Guided by Wei Ying and the guai, they made their way quickly through the mazelike corridors of the shrines, through the now-abandoned areas reserved for the senior sages and the qilin. They found a door leading outside and once in the little courtyard, could draw their swords and mount them to make better time. Before Wei Ying could step onto Suibian, however, Lan Wangji grabbed his arm and pulled him to a halt.

"Wei Ying, wait!" he urged. "This might be a trap. Wen Ruohan seeks to bait you out."

"Then he'll succeed, Lan Zhan." Wei Ying pulled his arm free of Lan Wangji's grasp; he looked more serious than Lan Wangji had ever seen him. "For once, it's something more important than my life. For all my brothers and sisters, the ones who haven't been born yet -- I have to stop him even if it kills me."

Lan Wangji shook his head. He had no words to argue, but he couldn't agree with that.

No matter what happened, he couldn't let it come to that. No matter what he had to sacrifice.

They flew low and fast on their swords over the roofs of the shrine, with Hati bounding from roof to roof below them, lagging just a little behind. The last wall dropped away and they saw the shrine, and Lan Wangji felt his heart sink: Wen Ruohan was there ahead of them.

The Wen Sect Leader, blazing and broad-shouldered in his flame-embossed robes, strode out from the small crowd of figures that surrounded him with his sword in hand. He walked in slow, measured steps that still ate up all the ground in the barren ring of stones, and just as he raised his sword to hack at the tree Lan Wangji jumped from his sword and hit the ground in an arcing plume of gravel and dust.

The Wen immediately turned to face him, and Lan Wangji heard the impacts of his allies following him to the ground but he did not take his eyes away from the enemy. His sword flew to his hand, and he held it out in a warning stance. "Wen Ruohan," he called out. "You dare too much."

"On the contrary, I dare just enough!" Wen Ruohan snapped back. Despite his ornate robes and impeccable coif, there were signs of disturbance and exertion that marred his carefully curated image; the hems of his robes tangled from swift flight, rents here and there in his clothing from arrows he had not been able to deflect. His breath came too quick for his aura of perfectly confident control, and his eyes showed blood-shot white all around the rims. "Our kingdom no longer needs the meddling of beasts. The time of rulers appointed by heaven is over. The succession of men is at hand!"

"Wen-zongzhu, stop this!" Wei Ying hit the ground, unlike the others, with barely a puff of dust; even now his step was impossibly graceful, unnaturally light. "If you sunder the laws of heaven and earth, you'll destroy everything you seek to control. Kingship is never going to be yours, Wen Ruohan!"

Wen Ruohan's chest heaved as he snarled. "If I cannot be xiandu," he said, and raised his sword again, "then there never shall be another xiandu -- not in this kingdom, or any other!"

The time for talking was up; the Wen cultivators rushed forward with a cry, and the battle was joined.

Wen Ruohan had brought his son Wen Chao and half a dozen lesser disciples. The latter tried to rush the qilin all in a group, only to startle and scatter when Hati launched himself off the shrine roof and landed among them in a storm of crackling fur and fury. Jiang Wanyin went after Wen Chao with a grim determination that was nonetheless tinged with vicious glee. Wei Ying... Wei Ying was hanging back, he saw with a rush of grateful relief.

That left Lan Wangji to face Wen Ruohan alone.

Lan Wangji was the best cultivator of his generation, the best swordsman of his peers. It was not boastful to say so; his uncle was far too strict to allow his judgment to be clouded, and the masters and elders of the other Sects, when they'd had a chance to see him in action, agreed. He had cultivated more strength, more speed, more grace, and more pure spiritual power than anyone else in his generation.

But Wen Ruohan was not of his generation.

Wen Ruohan was a man more than twice his age, with decades of extra time to cultivate and refine his spiritual energy, to teach his body to make use of all that extra power. Wen Ruohan was stronger; Wen Ruohan was faster; and Wen Ruohan was more powerful than Lan Wangji in every measure but one; they were equal in resolution. But all Lan Wangji's determination, to protect what must be protected and stand against wickedness, were not enough to overset those forty-some years of power.

And Lan Wangji knew, from the first clash of steel on steel, that he could not win this fight.

Judging by the look on Wen Ruohan's face -- the narrowing of his eyes, the curl of his smile -- he knew it too.

But he could not give up. Not when Wei Ying's life was on the line. Perhaps -- if Heaven smiled on him -- he could draw the fight out for long enough that Jiang Wanyin and the guai could finish off their own opponents and come to his aid. If all of them combined their efforts, then maybe --

There was no more time to think on it. Wen Ruohan came at him in a rush; Lan Wangji blocked automatically, and the force of his sword slamming against Lan Wangji's sent shocks reverberating up through his arm. He was so strong!

Swords clashed again and again, Lan Wangji forced back; he tried to control his footwork, to angle his retreat away from the tree, away from Wei Ying. He had never fought so fiercely in his life, and every swing was still a desperate scramble. To meet Wen Ruohan blow for blow, to block and dodge and parry.

His sword slipped an inch, and Wen Ruohan's blade wrenched it wide; for half a heartbeat, Lan Wangji was wide open, his neck exposed. A single cut could have taken his head off, yet Wen Ruohan ignored the gap, pressing forward once more. He slammed against Wangji's sword with a single-minded intent, again and again, until Lan Wangji's hands and arms and shoulders were numb with the force of it.

Too late, Lan Wangji realized what Wen Ruohan was trying to do. He was not attacking Lan Wangji himself, but Bichen -- battering his sword until his grip failed, his hands utterly stunned, and Wen Ruohan with a twist managed to disarm him and send his sword clattering to the ground.

Lan Wangji tried to reach for it, tried to call it back to his grasp -- but Wen Ruohan stepped to the side and put his foot firmly on it. He grabbed for Lan Wangji with the speed of a striking snake and Lan Wangji was too exhausted, too unbalanced to dodge it.

The world spun around him, earth and mountains and sky, and Lan Wangji found himself trapped in a cage of red and white -- with a rough hand around his neck pushing his head back, and the point of Wen Ruohan's sword pricking between his ribs. His back was crushed up against Wen Ruohan's chest, and his chin was forced upwards so he could see only sky.

"Qilin of Wu!" Wen Ruohan shouted, and the ringing in his ears made Lan Wangji's head hurt. More. "Do you dare still resist me? I have this one's life at my fingertips!"

The sounds of fighting stopped. Lan Wangji tried to struggle, to push back against Wen Ruohan's grip, but to no avail. The strength of his arms was immense, implacable; the hand tightened on his throat until tears filled his eyes, and blood trickled down from the point of the sword digging into his ribs.

From this position Lan Wangji could see little; straining at the bottom of his lids he could see figures hovering around them, uncertain. One in purple, a few in red, one in black. Wei Ying's sword was out, but unbloodied; Lan Wangji couldn't see his expression, but his face was very white.

"Lay your sword at my feet," Wen Ruohan said. When nobody moved, he snarled and jolted Lan Wangji forward, drawing more blood. "Now! Or I'll carve his heart out while you watch. Can you bear that, qilin? Knowing his death is your fault?"

No! Lan Wangji wanted to shout, but he could not manage more than a choked gurgle. In front of them Wei Ying began to step forward, began to lower his sword. He would surrender, Lan Wangji knew, rather than let another be hurt in his place. He would surrender and in doing so, he would yield himself up to either slavery or death.

Lan Wangji could not let that happen. Wei Ying must fight, must flee -- but he would not, so long as Wen Ruohan held Lan Wangji's life in his hands.

There was only one thing to do, then.

He closed his hand around Wen Ruohan's sword wrist -- but instead of pushing feebly back, he yanked the other man's arm towards him. It was the last thing Wen Ruohan had expected; he stumbled, off-balance, his arm wavering.

And Lan Wangji pushed the sword home.

~tbc...

Chapter Text

"Lan Zhan!"

The cry seemed to come from a great distance. His whole skin felt like it had gone numb, the better to focus sensation on the mass of cold metal intruding into his chest. Sharp, heavy, solid and wrong, he could feel its weight better than he could feel his hands or feet right now. He could feel --

Could feel how the sword had gone through so smoothly -- even bone wouldn't stop a sharp spiritual blade, and skin and muscle barely slowed it down -- until it ground to a halt in Wen Ruohan's torso, behind him. Could feel Wen Ruohan grunt in shock, feel him grab for the hilt and for Lan Wangji's sword even as the strength drained out of his sword arm.

He could feel it, the span of metal that pierced both of them, and his entire consciousness narrowed down to this one tiny thing -- to shift his grip, change the angle of the sword (where it pierced through his chest) and send the far tip of it upwards, seeking, seeking...

Wen Ruohan let out a choking gasp when the sword pierced his heart. He shuddered (and Lan Wangji could feel every one of those shudders) and then slumped in place, hands going lax as he fell to the ground.

Lan Wangji fell with him.

---

For some amount of time he just lay there, floating on a hazy cloud of pain like a petal on the surface of the water. He had done what he had set out to do. He would not be sorry to end his life in such a way. The only thing he regretted was --

Wei Ying.

He could hear Wei Ying's voice from what felt like very far away. He heard Wei Ying calling him, his voice agonized and frantic. Wei Ying was calling for him, but he couldn't open his eyes or stir himself to stand to go to him. Why couldn't Wei Ying come to him, instead?

Oh right -- the blood. He was lying in a pool of it, Wen Ruohan's and his own, swiftly cooling as it left their bodies. Wen Ruohan no longer twitching; he was dead. Lan Wangji would be dead soon as well.

And then there was a flash of light, a sizzling noise, and a wave of scorched-meat smell hit his nose almost at the same time as a blaze of fire racing up his side, his torso, searing the wound in his chest. Now came the pain, the skin of the hazy bubble popping to plunge him down into the depths of it; his eyes flew open and he convulsed, the air leaving his chest in a choked gasp. He didn't have the breath to scream.

"Lan Zhan!" Wei Ying was there, dropping to his knees beside Lan Wangji. Why was he there? What about the blood? Lan Wangji forced his eyes open and saw a blackened crust on his clothes, his skin, the ground beside him. Ah. Wei Ying had used a talisman to burn away the blood, so that he could approach Lan Wangji without swooning from the smell of it. Wei Ying was so clever.

Lan Wangji loved him so much.

"Wei Ying," he said, his voice coming out in a rusty croak. He struggled for each new breath, struggled to move his limbs.

"Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan," Wei Ying said. His voice was frantic, his hands moved unceasingly over Lan Wangji's body, patting his cheeks, feeling his pulse, peeling the charred cloth back from his chest. "Hold on, okay? You have to hold on. Don't you know you're my favorite human in the whole wide world? What's even the point of the world if you aren't living in it? You are not allowed to die!"

"Wei Ying," he said again. It was so hard to talk. His chest screamed with agony every time he breathed in, or even when he didn't; but it was the rapid drain of strength from his body that was truly frightening. He tasted blood on his lips and tried his best to lick it back, swallow it down. Blood would upset Wei Ying. "I need to tell you."

"Lan Zhan, don't try to talk," Wei Ying said, and his voice caught on a sob. No. Wrong. Wei Ying must not cry.

With great effort Lan Wangji moved his hand a few inches to the right, until it flopped over Wei Ying's hand as it pressed against his throat. Wei Ying froze. "I... I wanted you," he mumbled, the last deepest truth of his heart. "I wanted you to be mine. Not for Wu. Just for me."

Words ran out, along with his breath. The sky visible behind Wei Ying's head was dimming, the light failing. He didn't mind the dark so much, but he wanted to keep looking at Wei Ying's face. He wanted that to be the image he took with him into the next world. If he could keep that, it truly would be Heaven.

"No," Wei Ying said, then repeated it feverishly, mumbling under his breath. "No, no, no, no...!"

His hands scrabbled more. Lan Wangji could no longer discern what he was doing. But he felt it -- his wounds screamed -- when Wei Ying slid an arm under his shoulders, lifting his upper body from the ground. His hand was taken and held up against -- against Wei Ying's forehead, he dimly realized, the tips of his fingers sinking into the incredible warm softness of Wei Ying's hair. Underneath his palm, just faintly, he could feel a small hard bump of bone under feverish skin.

Light and warmth surged down his arm, through his chest -- poured through him in a bright stream of strength. For a moment his vision lightened, the world sharpened -- his body hurt more, despite the comforting heat, it hurt more because he was in it again.

For a moment. The flood of strength, of power, drained away through the hole in his chest as rapidly as it had come. The sky overhead was swimming, crawling with dark clouds. He blinked to try to clear his eyes, but then he had trouble opening his eyes again; each eyelid felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.

Another roaring surge of light; another jolt of pain. This wasn't working, Lan Wangji realized in his brief burst of clarity. He had taken too much damage, lost too much blood. He should tell Wei Ying that it was all right, he could stop trying. He should stop Wei Ying from pouring all of his energy into a shattered vessel.

But he didn't. Both because he could no longer summon the strength to speak, and because he knew Wei Ying wouldn't listen.

"Come on," Wei Ying said, teeth clenched. He sounded very far away. "Come on! Help him! This is it, this is what I'm for! He said it! 'To be the gate by which Heaven enters the world.' Well, what's the point if you don't fucking enter? Come on!"

When the third surge of light went through him it felt distant, muffled, only softness now. Lan Wangji closed his eyes and let himself sink.

Darkness.

quiet.

nothing...

...until.

A single drop of water, falling through a dark void; a drop that shone with its own silvery light.

A drop that struck dust, sending it up in puffs. A silver plant that sprouted from that point, glimmering with luminescence in the darkness, extending shy stems and petals into the void around it.

A silver plant that grew and grew, expanding readily into the space around it. Roots that took hold of the gaping wound in the earth and dragged it together, closing the gap, suturing up the sides. Stems and tendrils that wound through every vein, every meridian, bringing gentle light and energy to every part they touched. Flowers that blossomed in his chest, and in doing so whispered: like this.

He took a breath.

Then another, on instinct, his chest heaving for air. The image of the dark void, the silver plant, began to fade from his consciousness as he slowly became aware of his body once more. He was lying on the ground, in Wei Ying's arms, just where he had been. The air stunk of sweat and burned blood, and his whole body ached, and --

And that was all. He had received a mortal wound, he had felt his consciousness fading, but now he felt inside himself and saw no more than a bruising ache. What had happened?

He opened his eyes to see Wei Ying's face hovering over his. Silver eyes filled with tears, tears that slid down his cheeks and dripped off his jaw like rain. Lan Wangji had one more flash of a darkness, a falling star... drop...? a silver plant, blossoming with light... and then the vision faded.

(If he had looked away from Wei Ying's face just then, he might have seen the flickering glow fading from the twigs and branches of the tian mu, the light that had so briefly blossomed there petering out once more. But neither of them had eyes for anything but each other.)

"Lan Zhan!" Wei Ying cried out, and his face broke from painful woe into relief, into joy, when he saw Lan Wangji open his eyes. He was jostled, pulled up from the ground to a near-sitting position, Wei Ying very nearly shaking him in his enthusiasm. "Lan Zhan, you're alive, you're alive!"

"Wei Ying," he said, but that was as far as he got before Wei Ying was kissing him.

Somewhere in the distance, he thought he heard Jiang Wanyin saying: "Seriously? You're doing this now? You're practically sitting on the charred corpse of the Wen Sect Leader -- ugh! You know what? I don't even care any more. Do what you want. I'm going back to the actual battle now. Good job not being dead, Lan-er-gege."

-- but he paid very little attention to any of that in the face of the experience of kissing Wei Ying, and also being in, as it happened, the face of Wei Ying.

Wei Ying took a breath -- a quick inhale that made his throat flex and his chest expand and Lan Wangji wanted to chase that breath all the way down, wanted to crawl inside of Wei Ying and be surrounded by him. He did his best to pour all of that into the kiss -- pushing forward with his lips, his tongue, tasting the warm brightness of his mouth.

Wei Ying was warm and soft and somehow tasted fresh at the same time, buzzing with energy, crackling with life. Lan Wangji knew he must taste awful -- blood and ash in his mouth, the taste of death -- but Wei Ying welcomed him eagerly, all the same.

Stay with me. Be with me. Can't be anyone else but you. Each word its own kiss, its own little bite, every breath shared between their lips another promise. Wei Ying's hands clutching at his shoulder, his arm, as though prepared to drag him bodily into the world of the living -- as indeed he had. Don't let go. Don't ever let go.

They spent some time in the kiss -- Lan Wangji was not certain how much. But in the end he had to break away to wheeze for breath; he felt like had been running a marathon, not merely lying on the ground. And breaking away from Wei Ying gave him an unpleasant view of the rest of the battlefield.

Wen Ruohan's corpse was indeed lying on the ground not far away -- a large portion of his chest and face still smoldering from the fire talisman Wei Ying had used. There were a handful of Wen bodies sprawled on the ground further away, and on the far end of the grotto Hati was keeping a menacing watch over a huddled handful of (apparently) Wen prisoners.

"Jiang Wanyin is not wrong," Lan Wangji said regretfully. "The battle may still be going on. We should join them. If we bring news of their Sect Leader's death, perhaps they will surrender."

Wei Ying made a face -- all his faces were beautiful, Lan Wangji thought, precisely because they were so expressive. "Oh, all right," he sighed.

They got to their feet, Lan Wangji with a great deal of support from Wei Ying. Wei Ying glanced over at Wen Ruohan's gently smoking corpse, then away. He shuddered. "Do you think we have to..." he said, then swallowed hard. "Bring some form of proof."

The traditional form of proof, of course, being a severed head. But Lan Wangji was not about to subject a qilin to that. He stepped forward and extended Bichen, searching among the elaborate robes. He finally found the Wen crest pinned to his shoulder that had escaped the spray of blood, and cut it off with a swift stroke. "This will serve as proof," he said, and Wei Wuxian's shoulders sagged with relief. "Let us go."

No sooner had they turned back towards the shrine but it became apparent that Lan Wangji was still far too weak to run, his energy too diminished to fly on his sword. "Lan Zhan, don't push yourself," Wei Ying urged him. "Come on. I'll carry you!"

Before Lan Wangji could object, Wei Wuxian stepped back and adopted a strange stance; the lines of his form shifted and flowed, until it was once more the black qilin who stood before Lan Wangji. He tossed his mane, blood-red ribbon flying through the air, and the eyes that met Lan Wangji's stupefied gaze were dark as the night sky, pinwheeling with stars. "I'll take you," he said, his voice once more sounding in Lan Wangji's mind. "Get on, get on!"

"Wei Ying," Lan Wangji said faintly, but he didn't have the energy to resist Wei Ying for long -- nor the will. With the Wen sect crest in one hand and Bichen in the other, he climbed carefully onto the qilin's back.

"Hold on," the voice inside his head sounded, and Lan Wangji clutched both with his legs and into the star-streaked mane as the qilin all at once bounded into the air.

- Art by Sixlayerhouse - 

From above, the damage of the battle looked simultaneously better and worse. The plateau to the south of the shrine was a mess; the collapsed crumble of the Wen war camp, the fallen tents and disarrayed mess of the parade grounds, bodies lying in sprawled heaps some places and lined up in near ordered rows in others, equally ominous. Columns of smoke rose into the air from several of the tents around the field, though it looked like the fires were burning low, not at risk of spreading out of control.

As bad as it looked, Lan Wangji could see no frenzied struggle of bodies locked together -- no waves of red and white hurling themselves at entrenched defenders. He let himself relax somewhat, straightening his posture and easing his death-grip on his sword. It looked like the battle was -- if not over, then at least in a lull, and Lan Wangji only hoped that it had ended with the defenders pushing back the attacking Wens, and not because there were no defenders left to resist.

The signs of struggle and bloodshed were thickest close to the shrine entrance, and Wei Ying shied away from that area as he circled in the air, heading instead towards a large open space on the parade ground where a number of people were clustering -- in robes of blue, gold, grey and purple, but none of red-and-white. As they neared the ground Lan Wangji saw the familiar tall form and fluttering ribbon of his brother, and his heart rose in his chest.

Wei Wuxian landed, as lightly and gracefully as though he bore no rider at all, and Lan Wangji swung himself over to the side and landed (with a concealed wince) on his feet. He faced Lan Xichen first. "Xiongzhang," he said, with a tilt of his head because he did not think he could bow right now before falling over. He held up the severed Wen Crest. "Wen-zongzhu is dead."

Lan Xichen did not answer him. Lan Xichen actually looked too thunderstruck to speak at all. Perhaps he had been injured in battle, taken a blow to the head? Lan Wangji glanced around, looking for someone else to report to, and saw the strangest thing --

People were bowing to him.

Of course, he hastily corrected himself, bowing to them. To Wei Ying really, of course. This was the first time most of them had seen him in his true form, was it not? One after another, the ranks of cultivators from all sects were dropping either into a bow, or all the way to their knees.

He looked around for a shrine acolyte, someone who could give him his cue, and saw the stately robes and tall headpiece of Shen Yi coming towards them across the field. He turned to her with some relief, giving her the deepest salute he could manage with his injuries. "Elder Shen," he acknowledged.

She looked back at him with the queerest expression on her face -- bemused, annoyed, but most of all a profound expression of relief. "So it has ended," she pronounced, which made sense, but then she followed it with, "The qilin has chosen. At last, the kingdom of Wu has a new xiandu."

Lan Wangji blinked. All around him, the bowing cultivators took up a ragged cheer -- one that grew louder and louder as it spread beyond the ranks.

"What?" Wei Ying had returned to his human form, and he looked at the head sage with a confused expression. "I haven't chosen."

"Most assuredly, Blessed One, you have," Shen Yi replied. She indicated Lan Wangji. "You allowed him to ride upon your back. Only the rightful ruler can receive such an honor."

Wei Ying winced, a guilty expression crossing his face. "Oh, no, we -- I mean, it was just because he was hurt and we were in a hurry..."

"You misunderstand," Shen Yi interrupted, and then lowered her voice from its parade-ground pitch to something a bit more private. "Only the king can receive such an honor. It is not a matter of preference; it is physically impossible for anybody except the Heavenly appointed ruler to ride on a qilin's back, just as it is physically impossible for the qilin to bow to anyone except their intended king."

Lan Wangji had a sudden vision burst on him, one that made him sway in place: this very shrine, the inner court, less than a week ago. A half-moon up over the walls and Wei Ying, miserable and drunk, bowing before him and telling him that he didn't want to serve any other king --

Wei Ying frowned at him. "What?" he said. "Lan Zhan, what is it?"

"You bowed to me," Lan Wangji said, feeling numb with disbelief. "Here. The other night."

"I did?" His eyes went very round. "Lan Zhan! What? I don't remember this! Why didn't you tell me?!"

Lan Wangji opened his mouth, let it hang open helplessly, then closed it. He didn't know what to say. I didn't think you meant it? I thought it must be a mistake?! Clearly, the mistake here had been his.

"Congratulations, Wangji," Lan Xichen said, finally getting over his stupefied surprise. His eyes fell on the severed Wen crest, and a tension eased from his shoulders. "For more than one incredible achievement, it seems."

And then, to Lan Wangji's extreme discomfort, his brother bowed to him.

This was going to take some getting used to.

He looked around again, and realized that -- with the exception of Wei Ying, who looked just as overwhelmed as he felt -- everyone was bowing (or cheering,) instead of doing something more useful, like attending to the wounded or poisoned cultivators or cleaning up some of the blood staining the doorstep of Wei Ying's home.

And then he realized that he could do something about that. He could do something about all sorts of things, in fact, that he could never act upon before.

He opened his mouth, and gave his first command.

By the time night fell, the situation was mostly under control. It was hard for Wei Wuxian to be out on the battlefield where so many had died; he had allowed the sages to bundle him back inside the shrine on the condition that Lan Zhan, swaying on his feet after he'd lost half his blood earlier that day, came with. Lan Zhan gave over command to Lan Xichen, who was extremely capable, and who didn't seem even the slightest bit jealous at having been passed over for the big seat in favor of his little brother.

Wei Wuxian really just did not understand their relationship at all.

Anyway, he was back inside with all his favorite people currently at Pengshan: Lan Zhan, Jiang Cheng, Wen Ning, and Nie Huaisang. The latter had been badly affected by the poisoned meat -- enough that even hours later he was not doing well, and they had brought him to Wei Wuxian for healing -- but he was up and about now. Lan Zhan had ordered that only those worst-off cases, who might not survive without aid, could be brought to Wei Wuxian for healing; after the day he'd had, for once Wei Wuxian was exhausted enough to agree.

But the worst was over, he thought with determined optimism. Wen Ning had found his way back through the caves after the collapse he'd caused, fortunately after the fighting had ended. Xue Yang was gone, vanished; he'd broken himself out of the shrine sometime during the fighting, which Wei Wuxian didn't love, but the geas on him ought to keep him from causing too much trouble. The last of the attacking Wen had stood down, and the medics of the various sects were working together with the Lan to triage and care for all the victims of the battle. Tomorrow they'd start on cleanup; tomorrow, they'd start on Lan Zhan's coronation.

Lan Zhan's coronation! That was still so weird to think. It didn't seem like it should be allowed, it was so unbelievably good.

"Okay, but here's what I don't understand," Wei Wuxian said, drawing everyone's gaze and startling Nie Huaisang out of what looked like a light doze. "How could Lan Zhan be Heaven's choice for the next xiandu, but I never saw any kind of sign? Believe me, I looked! I listened! If there was anything even a little bit unusual, I would have noticed!"

Wen Ning ventured to say, "But Wei-renshou, didn't you say that the aura is different for different qilin?"

"That's what Xiao-ge said, yeah."

"Then, couldn't it have been any of the five senses?" Nie Huaisang said patiently.

Wei Wuxian blinked. "You mean --"

"I mean you haven't fucking shut up about how good Lan Wangji smells since you met him," Jiang Cheng interrupted, sounding very much at the end of his patience about it. But really, Jiang Cheng always sounded like that, so Wei Wuxian didn't let it bother him.

Wei Wuxian looked over at Lan Zhan with dawning delight. Lan Zhan blinked back at him. Wei Wuxian leaned over and took a deep sniff: that perfect Lan Zhan smell, like spices or cinnamon or every good thing in the world. That alluring scent he'd never encountered before from any other human being -- not even his beloved shijie -- that no one else at Pengshan claimed to be able to notice at all...

"Okay, but honestly, how was I supposed to figure that out!" he said, as he straightened back up. "That's really hard!"

"It could have been worse," Nie Huaisang said cheerfully. "You might have had to find your intended king entirely by taste!"

"Oh," Wei Wuxian said, pulling a face in disgust -- mostly at the thought of having to lick every one of those would-be-king candidates, up to and including Wen Chao.

Licking Lan Wangji, however...

That didn't sound like a half bad idea.

He met Lan Wangji's eyes, and going by the heavy-lidded golden gaze, Lan Wangji was thinking something very similar. Suddenly, Wei Wuxian very much wanted to know if Lan Wangji's skin tasted half as good as it smelled.

"Later," Lan Wangji said, his voice deep with promise.

"Can you fucking not!" Jiang Cheng yelped, and Wei Wuxian laughed.

~tbc...

Chapter Text

Wei Wuxian slipped back into Lotus Pier with an armful of freshly picked lotus pods, and a lightness in his heart that he hadn't felt in three years.

In the banquet hall beyond, the party was still going on. A grand banquet, full of important figures, surprisingly non-stuffy! True, they had invited every xiandu from the neighboring kingdoms as well as their qilin to attend, making it the single greatest concentration of spiritual and temporal power in the world -- but it turned out that a lot of the guests were pretty odd characters. Well, Wei Wuxian wasn't sure why he was surprised! He'd met Xiao Xingchen already, and as nice as Xiao-ge was he was a little... strange. And Heaven had apparently thought that he, Wei Wuxian, was a perfectly fine qilin, so that didn't bode well for all the rest of them.

It was good to be back in Lotus Pier. It was good that the celebration -- a tradition that marked the beginning of every new xiandu's reign, to introduce him to all his peers and congratulate his ascension -- was being held at Lotus Pier at all. This would go a long way towards clearing Lotus Pier of the aura of disgrace that had surrounded it since Wei Wuxian's abrupt discovery and relocation three years ago.

The sages hadn't wanted the banquet to be held at Lotus Pier, in fact, for precisely that reason (although they disguised it with other objections.) But -- it turned out -- it was a lot easier for a qilin to get his way when he had a xiandu backing up his authority! When Lan Wangji ordered a thing to be done, people listened to him. And Lan Wangji was, apparently, determined to give Wei Wuxian everything he could possibly want.

It was pretty great!

So, Lotus Pier it was! The Jiang Sect had been surprised, but risen gracefully to the challenge of hosting every other Sect Leader and ten other leaders from neighboring countries and each country's respective qilin and however many bonded yao those qilin had dragged along in the bargain! (Wei Wuxian had finally met Hua-qi and his infamously rude ghost-king bondsman, and whoo boy, Song Lan had not been exaggerating at all.)

It was good, so good, to finally meet the rest of his brothers and sisters. He had learned so much about qilin that none of the books at Pengshan, or even Xiao-ge had been able to tell him. There was only a part of Wei Wuxian, nursed very deep in his heart, that wished he could have met them before going through the ordeal of the Selection Ceremony. Well, too late now; and he had the next several hundred years to get to know them all.

It had made for a very rollicking party, one that Wei Wuxian was almost sorry to ditch. But, of course, there were other things at Lotus Pier that simply called out for his attention. There were street merchants to patronize, and rivers to swim in (and ailing aunties from last season's bout of yellow fever to visit) and lotus pods to pick. Not that he hadn't had lotus seeds in the last few years -- they were one of Lotus Pier's main trade exports, after all! -- but it wasn't the same.

As eased his way into the courtyard his happiness for the evening was made complete, because who should be waiting for him there but -- "Lan Zhan!"

Lan Zhan, he noted, looking very, very sexy in his fancy new xiandu robes. Wei Wuxian had scoffed at the ostentatiousness -- who needed seven layers, really? How was he supposed to even move in these things, let alone fight -- but privately, he needed a moment in a quiet corner to compose himself. The multi-layered sleeves made his shoulders look incredible, and the way the high collar framed his neck and jawline -- Anyway.

They were nice robes, was the point.

Lan Zhan turned to face him with a small smile -- probably most people would think he wasn't smiling at all, but more fools them, because they were missing out on some truly exquisite smiles. Wei Wuxian bounced over to him, and only once he was there did he remember what he was holding. "Lan Zhan, I have lotus pods. Try some!"

Lan Zhan cast a dubious eye over his dripping bundle. "I have before," he said.

"Not like these ones!" Wei Wuxian insisted. "These are fresh from the lake, with the stems still on!"

"Does that matter?" Lan Zhan asked.

"Of course!" Wei Wuxian nudged him with his shoulder, laughing. "Lotus seeds from pods with the stems still on them taste much better, don't you know that!"

"Mm." Lan Zhan let Wei Wuxian push him a little, then steadied them both with one strong arm. He reached out and took one of the lotus pods from Wei Wuxian's armful. "I have much to learn."

They sat on the bench at the side of the courtyard and munched on lotus seeds, Wei Wuxian chattering happily away about the snack and Lan Zhan listening indulgently. Lotus seeds had a dozen ways of preparation -- they could be baked or boiled in soup, mashed into paste or baked into rolls, but for Wei Wuxian there was nothing that quite matched the experience of eating them fresh. One of his oldest and best memories of Lotus Pier was of sitting on the floor next to Shijie, peeling lotus seeds and handing each one to him as she did.

One of the first things he'd done on arriving at Lotus Pier, once he'd been able to get away from all the bowing, was to stop in to see Shijie. He'd spent a long afternoon and evening in her company -- it wasn't quite enough to make up for three years of absence in a day, but he felt much less hungry, now.

"Did you meet Shijie yet?" he asked Lan Zhan, peeling another seed and popping it into his mouth. Lan Zhan had been off dealing with diplomats for most of the day, but there'd been a dinner with all the family, so they might have. He wanted his most important people to like each other, although he couldn't imagine that they wouldn't. They were both so great.

Lan Zhan's expression became, briefly, profoundly long-suffering. "I have met many people," he replied ruefully.

Wei Wuxian erupted into laughter, collapsing onto Lan Zhan's shoulder as he did. "Poor Lan Zhan!" he chortled, then straightened up. "So! What did you think of her?"

"She is an exemplary maiden," Lan Zhan said without hesitation, and Wei Wuxian's heart warmed at that. "Very kind. I can see the resemblance to Wei Ying."

"Yeah, she's the best!" Wei Wuxian cheered. "And, y'know, I'm sort of contractually obligated to be nice. She just does it 'cause she's awesome that way."

Lan Zhan inclined his head in agreement. "She retired for the night," he said. "I regret that we are leaving tomorrow."

"Yeah, me too," Wei Wuxian said with a sigh. "Well, we can always come back! We can come back, right?" he added nervously.

"Of course." Lan Zhan gave him a look full of unutterable fondness. "Whenever you wish."

A burst of laughter rose from the great hall beyond. The gathering was, manifestly, still going. Wei Wuxian turned to look at it, then returned his attention to Lan Zhan with a knowing smirk. "So... you ditched the party, huh?"

"Mm." The faintest of frowns on Lan Zhan's face. Wei Wuxian waited patiently, peeling another seed. "Wen-zongzhu is there."

Wei Wuxian felt one momentary flash of disorientation -- like the past month had never happened -- before his brain caught up. "You mean Wen Qing?" As he usually did when feeling uneasy, he laughed. "Aw, she's not so bad! Honestly, I can't think of anyone better to be the new Wen Sect Leader."

"She endangered you," Lan Zhan grumbled.

"Wen Ruohan endangered me! Wen Qing put herself at risk to warn us!" Wei Wuxian protested. "And she loves her didi so much, so she can't be all bad. Don't hold a grudge, okay Lan Zhan?"

Lan Zhan gave him a long side-eye. "One of us must," he said at last.

Wei Wuxian felt a slight pang, as he always did when he thought about the words he'd read a hundred times since discovering his true nature. The qilin can only be kind, so the ruler in turn must be cruel. He'd always read that as meaning that the qilin would be allowed no say in the matter, that the xiandu would simply ignore his requests in order to commit whatever cruelties he pleased. He'd felt suffocated, horrified, imagining himself locked into a lifetime of that.

But that wasn't the way it was going to be, not with Lan Zhan. The pang eased away, leaving only warm fondness in his chest. He smiled at Lan Zhan. "I suppose so! As long as you listen to me when I tell you to be nice!"

"I will always listen to Wei Ying," Lan Zhan said solemnly.

They snuggled for a while longer, listening to the night noises of Lotus Pier. It was late enough that neither of them would be going back to the gathering still going on -- Lan Zhan would head for his Lan-appointed bedtime soon, and Wei Wuxian wouldn't go far from him. But they had a little while, still, to be out in the soft air together, for Wei Wuxian to lean on Lan Zhan's shoulder and breathe in the irreplaceable scent of him. The heavenly sign of his kingship hadn't disappeared once he'd become king -- according to the other qilin Wei Wuxian had talked to, sometimes it did, sometimes it didn't. There really was a lot less uniformity among qilin experiences, he was learning, than one would believe.

"So," he said at last, "you've had a chance to meet some of the other qilin, now. What did you think of them?"

He tried to keep his voice casual, not to let a thread of anxiety seep its way into the question. He wanted his important people to like each other, after all. He wanted his brothers and sisters to approve of his favorite person, and he wanted Lan Zhan to like his family, too. He just... would maybe rather Lan Zhan didn't like any other qilin too much.

"They are... eccentric," Lan Zhan said after a moment's pause. He didn't sound overawed, at the least. His brow creased in the faintest of grimaces. "I met the qilin of Yue and his... bondsman."

Wei Wuxian was delighted. "Oh, did they use the toast line on you?"

"Yes," Lan Zhan said feelingly, and Wei Wuxian broke out cackling.

"Poor Xiao-ge, I don't think he gets the chance to try that one out on new people very often," he chortled. Then, he sobered up. "I guess we'll be leaving for Gusu tomorrow."

"Mm." Lan Zhan's voice was only the briefest buzz in his chest, soft and deep. "Gusu next."

"Next? Are we going somewhere else after?" Wei Wuxian tilted his head back, the better to be able to see Lan Zhan's face. "I thought we'd be settling down at Gusu, you know, setting up court there."

"We will set up a court," Lan Zhan agreed. "We must appoint administrators and advisors. But, once that is done, we could leave."

"Leave?!" Wei Wuxian sat bolt upright, staring at Lan Zhan in shock. "Leave to go where?"

"Wherever we are needed." Lan Zhan met his gaze steadily. "Wen Ruohan was right about one thing. The need for a single man to rule over the kingdom is in the past."

Wei Wuxian sputtered slightly. "I mean, Wen Ruohan was perfectly fine with the idea of a single man having all the power, he was just mad it wasn't him."

"Nevertheless, Wu Kingdom has governed itself for many years without a king," Lan Zhan said imperturbably. "In times of peace, local administrators can keep order. However, there are things that only the qilin can do."

"Lan Zhan!" This time, it was a gasp of delight. "You mean..."

Lan Zhan gave a nod of confirmation. "The land has been much poisoned. Places, people are ill. They will look to us for help." He hesitated a moment, looking sideways at Wei Wuxian. "If you want to. If you prefer to stay in Gusu, we will --"

"No no no! Lan Zhan, this is perfect!" Wei Wuxian interrupted him. "We'll travel the land, go on adventures, see new sights, and help people wherever we go! This is the best thing ever!!" His mind was already racing, charting a map route all through Wu kingdom, all the places he'd never been able to go before being taken away to the mountain. Not only Yunmeng, but, "Do you think we can find reports of other victims of Yin Metal Poisoning, and help them? Or places where plague has struck, and they have no clean water! There are so many things we can do!"

One side of Lan Zhan's mouth turned up in an incredibly smug smile. He gave Wei Wuxian a look through heavy-lidded eyes. "Thought so."

Wei Wuxian felt a pang of conscience. "Ahh, Lan Zhan, is this really okay?" he said. "I thought it was customary for the xiandu and their qilin to govern from the seat of their home Sect."

"It is tradition, yes," Lan Zhan said. "Not necessary."

"No?" Wei Wuxian said doubtfully. That was not, historically speaking, the stance of the Lan.

"We do not need to mimic our forebearers, as long as we behave with righteousness," Lan Zhan said. "What is right, we will uphold. What does not serve Wu, we will discard."

"I like the way you think!" Wei Wuxian gave him a grin.

He snuggled once more into Lan Zhan's side. It was getting colder out here, and the party was winding down, and it really would be time to pack it in soon. He let his hand fall onto Lan Zhan's knee, idly tracing the embroidery of the panel of his robe, feeling the warmth of his body through it.

"Hey," he said after a long moment. He grinned up at Lan Zhan, his head laid sideways on his shoulder. "Hey, Lan Zhan."

Lan Zhan glanced at him, the question written in his eyes, in the slight lift of his eyebrows. Wei Wuxian wriggled, seeking an even greater closeness, like he could climb into the other man's skin, or at least his clothes. "Don't you think there are some other traditions we could toss aside, too?" he purred. "Like, traditions about naughty things  that qilin and their kings aren't usually supposed to do?"

Lan Zhan's eyes darkened as they sharpened on Wei Wuxian. His hand slid around Wei Wuxian and then he stood all at once, lifting a surprised and delighted Wei Wuxian into his arms. "Mark your words," he said.

Wei Wuxian's bright laughter could be heard far across the water, the river carrying the echoes to every corner of the land. This was a part of him, too. He was made to be both heaven and mortal, lake and mountain, earth and sky. He was, as he was made to be. Home, in Lan Zhan's arms. Home.

~the end.