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The wider jianghu never found out when exactly Nie Huaisang disappeared, or even how. Be it coup or planned succession, the Nie Sect never divulged.
The daughter of Nie Zhonghui simply showed up at Lotus Pier for a cultivation conference one day wearing the beast head regalia and introducing herself as Nie-zhongu.
Jiang Wanyin, who insisted on keeping conferences as brief as possible, accepted Nie BīngShì at her word. When the other sect leaders protested, Jiang Wanyin merely shrugged.
"Wouldn't the Nie disciples know best who their leader is?"
For those less stoic than Sect Leader Jiang, the sudden vanishing of Nie Huaisang caused enough of a stir to reach even Lan Xichen in his seclusion.
His first thought when he overheard the gossiping servants was, "good riddance."
And in truth, the knowledge that he need not face the man who knew Lan Xichen at his most intimate and judged him unworthy, sped up his time in seclusion. With Huaisang gone and the new Nie Sect Leader disinterested in re-litigating the past; Lan Xichen had no one to hide from.
It made the shame easier to bear.
Some days.
A commotion at the gates would not normally have drawn Lan Xichen's attention. The steep climb to the Cloud Recesses deterred most trouble makers, but there were always a few persistent ones.
The wind, however, blew strangely that day, and seemed to run past Lan Xichen carrying a voice not heard in many years.
He rushed to the gate to see a child, no older than ten, standing square against two guards, his arms crossed and brow furrowed.
The little boy spoke again, "My father said to give this letter only to Zewu-Jun!"
"Who is your father to make such demands?" The disciple asked.
Lan Xichen strode up. "I am Zewu-Jun. You may give me the message."
The child bowed respectfully, holding out the letter, but Lan Xichen caught his sharp, assessing look.
Lan Xichen broke the seal and let his past come rushing back.
Dear Sect Leader Lan,
This is not a formal letter of recommendation, because part of me hopes you will take one look at my child and send him back down the mountain.
Still, Nie MíngBai has set his heart on becoming a cultivator. I taught him the basics so he shouldn't be much behind your beginning class.
A-Míng's qi feels like Da-ge's, Xichen, which is why I am entrusting him to you. Nie BīngShì is quite cross about that, but I want my son to live a better life than his ancestors.
I can't undo my past actions, but I have tried to do better going forward. I trust you are doing the same.
Lan Xichen's eyes blurred with tears before he could read the signature. A small mercy considering Nie Huaisang's bright green eyes stared at him from the little boy's face.
"You want to learn cultivation?" He asked, sounding gruffer than he intended.
"Yes! Please accept this one! I promise I will work very hard." Nie MíngBai said in his uncle's cadence--one the child would never hear for himself.
Lan Xichen wished he had the willpower to send away this boy and the ghosts he carried unknowingly. Instead Lan Xichen said, "take him to the novice barracks and present him to the teacher."
The little boy let out a whoop of delight.
"No shouting in the Cloud Recesses." All three adults admonished at once. A-Míng pouted.
"Is your father waiting for you in Cayi?"
"Yes, Zewu-Jun. He told me to send word to the Crane's Roost Inn."
Lan Xichen, before he could think better of it, drew his sword, stepped up, and flew away.
The inn was a nice one; its tea room bustled with guests and servants. Lan Xichen beckoned the proprietor over.
"Have you seen a man with his young son-- a Nie man?" Xichen's mouth, dry as dust, couldn't even form the name of his ex-lover. The woman nodded in the direction of a man seated a short distance away.
A man Lan Xichen barely recognized.
Dazed, he approached the man's table, watched as he stood and bowed politely before waving for Xichen to sit. The man was shorter than Lan Xichen, but broad shouldered and handsome. His hair was streaked at the temples with gray and pulled into a simple knot, topped by a guan in the shape of two birds. Laugh lines framed those sly eyes.
He had a mustache.
"I didn't know you would come yourself, Er-ge."
"A-Sang?"
"Yes, yes. Please don't look so horrified, Er-ge. You'll hurt my pride." The man said in Nie Huaisang's voice. "Where is A-Míng? Already causing Master Lan headaches?"
"You have a son?"
Nie Huaisang startled. "What? You didn't see him? I assumed-- dammit that boy is always wandering off."
"No, I apologize." Lan Xichen said slipping automatically into the one he used for all anxious parents of students under Lan tutelage. "Nie MíngBai arrived safely and has been accepted into his age cohort."
When Nie Huaisang looked appeased, Xichen continued, "I am only very surprised. No one has seen you in so many years. And now… " he gestured helplessly.
"I got old, Xichen, you can say it." Nie Huaisang smirked, "I got old, and you're still stunning as ever. "
It sounded very much like an insult. Like Nie Huaisang was calling Xichen a child. It struck him suddenly that Nie Huaisang had been 35 when he disappeared, yet never in all his time as the Headshaker looked a day over 17.
Another secret he'd kept hidden.
Tears threatened, and then spilled over Lan Xichen's eyes. Maybe he was no better than a child; believing that monsters couldn't hurt you if you didn't look at them; believing in love.
A warm hand covered Xichen's, making him cry harder.
"I'm sorry, Xichen-ge, coming back was a mistake. You don't deserve to go through this again."
"You think I'm upset about you coming back? I'm upset that you left! That you couldn't even give me six months to come to terms with years of betrayal!"
Nie Huaisang rubbed the back of Xichen's knuckles. His hands were calloused in a pattern unfamiliar to Lan Xichen-- different from those caused by sword training.
"What have you even been doing all this time?" He demanded petulantly.
If Huaisang was going to treat him like a child, then he'd damn well act like one. Huaisang had no ground to judge anyone else for dramatics.
"Pottery." The man said simply. When Lan Xichen looked incredulous, he added, "some painting and sculpture as well, depending on the commission."
"You're an artist?" Lan Xichen sneered. " You ran off to become an artist with a wife and child."
"I'm a widower." Huaisang snapped, "with two children, the firstborn of which, I am leaving in your care--despite serious misgivings!'
It was too awful.
Lan Xichen lurched to his feet, barely aware of the curious glances of the other patrons. Huaisang rose with him, still clutching his hand.
"Promise me, Er-ge, for Da-ge's sake, if not mine, to keep MíngBai safe."
Xichen nodded, too overcome for words. What were mere words between the two of them?
The upheaval caused by the reappearance of his lover, however, like an unexpected rain shower, quickly passed. Uncle and Wangji at times looked at Xichen strangely, but said nothing.
Nie MíngBai, who shrugged off any comments comparing him to those Nies, settled into the unchanging routine of the Cloud Recesses. The boy became especially close to Lan Jingyi, trotting after him like a puppy.
Three months later came another unexpected storm, this time in the form of a letter. He tore the seal with shaking hands.
Dear Lan Xichen,
I find new things for which to apologize to my brother's spirit every day. Top of my list now is never writing to him as a student (except when my allowance ran low).
How is A-Míng doing? He can be stubborn about not asking for help. Or saying when he is sick. This may be a small thing, beneath your notice, but he is very prone to chest colds this time of year.
If you see A-Míng, please remind him that the air in Gusu is far more damp than his home, and that his a-die, mei-mei and his lao-ye and lao-lao miss him dearly. We would be happy to hear from him, perhaps using the (expensive) brush set he received as a parting gift?
Thank you, Er-ge, for humoring this old man.
Nie Huaisang
Dear Nie Huaisang,
Your son has, as you anticipated, been trying to stifle a chest cold with only ginger candies and tea. The healer assured me no serious harm came to his lung capacity, but that he needs rest and hot compress.
While A-Míng is out of class, I shall be helping him keep up with his studies to the extent the healers allow.
Our first lesson was on letter writing etiquette. You will no doubt remark how much more refined his is than mine.
Lan Xichen
Hello Lan Xichen,
Sect Leader Nie BīngShì plans to send you a request for her sons to visit MíngBai in the Cloud Recesses. I write only as a parent with no desire to know about any of the politics involved. Nor do I wish A-Míng to be drawn into any intrigues.
Good luck managing Bīng-er and her little demons. My advice to you is to take the whole lot of them to an empty field where they can't break anything.
In sympathy,
Nie Huaisang
Nie Huaisang,
The field, once full of wildflowers, has been thoroughly trampled. So that all was not lost, I helped the boys make pressings, here enclosed. Do you remember the flowers we sent to Mingjue? He used to tease me that he slept with them under his pillow.
Xichen
Xichen,
Da-ge did in fact sleep with our pressed flowers under his pillow. He was an incredibly sentimental man, and said they helped his dreams. Perhaps I will try the same.
Thank you for your continued kindness towards A-Míng. His letters now come frequently and always sing your praises, to which I can only agree.
Huaisang
Huaisang,
Nie MíngBai is a smart, kind boy of which any parent or teacher could be proud. You once expressed concern at how similar his spiritual energy is to your Da-ge's.
Truly it is uncanny how he moves and even speaks like Nie Mingjue. His skill grows daily, and he will soon form a golden core. Which brings me to a delicate question:
Do you wish Nie MíngBai to continue along the Lan cultivation path? Or merely to learn enough calming techniques to minimize his risk of qi deviation before transitioning to saber work?
It would be my honor to assist him along either path. I swear to do all in my power to be worthy of your trust this time as I failed to be worthy of it before.
Sincerely,
Xichen
Er-ge,
I don't know what to do about A-Míng. Yan Ao, his mother, believed the choice should ultimately be his. I never wanted him to pick up a damn sword or saber in the first place.
I trust her and I trust you more than myself in this matter.
Da-ge had so little time, whereas the rest of the cultivation world, I believe, has too much. What is the point of reaching immortality when all we do is invent new ways to hurt one another?
His mother's passing left me broken, Er-ge. For many months it was all I could do to keep myself and the children washed, dressed, and fed. This with the help of grandparents and servants!
But I could fall apart, a rare luxury in the jianghu. There was no vengeance to take. No plot to uncover. No war of good or evil.
My funny, lovely, talented Yan Ao died of a fever that swept our town, one that even my neglected golden core warded off. She had no core, no magic, but she could make anything. She could see your face once, then recreate it in a hundred different mediums. She somehow made the two most remarkable children.
I fear that those who come to love my son won't be able to grieve his passage as he deserves.
I've planned the deaths of many people. What a presumptuous little fool I was! I'd bear any punishment for that fate not to befall my son. I want MíngBai to have a good life, the same as any father. But I also want him to have a good death.
Please forgive this exercise in morbidity. You may continue with his instruction in the Lan methodology.
NHS
A-Sang,
A-Míng showed me a family portrait painted by your late wife. I will not attempt to expound upon her technical skill as you know better than I, but even I could see the care and dedication between the two of you.
Cultivators, though you no longer count yourself among our ranks, are morbid people. We train from a young age in matters of death. If anything, A-Sang, you have been less careless with the lives you've ended than the rest of us.
Unlike you, I am guilty of indifference to the passage of time and of death. I thought after the war and rebuilding my home that the hard times were finally behind us. That I could have my brothers and my love without change or sacrifice.
Even after that dream shattered, I persisted in ignoring the movement of the world around me: Lan Sizhui growing up; Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian traveling further and further from home; you leaving.
I had the luxury of unencumbered grief in seclusion, but I did not make use of it. I do not think I grieved all that I lost through my willful ignorance until we met at the inn. To see you, grown and established, living your life while I remained frozen in place.
A whole life you had in just 10 years.
But there I go again, acting as though 10 years were nothing when you'd spent the previous decade orchestrating the downfall of the most powerful man in the jianghu.
What made you different from the rest of us, A-Sang? How did you see the truth so clearly amidst all the lies?
The summer you were 8 and Lan Zhan 7, the two of you started that little collection of bird skulls. You very seriously explained that you only scavenged already dead birds and used ants to clean off the bones.
I see a similar thoughtfulness in your son. He takes after Da-ge in many ways, but you have already done much to temper his volatile qi. The other day I overheard A-Míng shouting at his classmate, "I won't fight you because my father says that when I am angry, I should step away and practice my meditation!"
A surprisingly mature response, although he persists in being as loud as possible.
Parts of this letter are quite badly smudged as I find myself crying. I might rewrite it. I might throw it away.
Yours, A-Huan
Dear Nie Huaisang,
You are cordially invited to the Clouds Recesses Spring Student Exhibition. Your child, Nie MíngBai, will be performing in the musical category and the beginners' sword forms.
Please inform Sect Leader Lan Xichen if you or other relatives wish to attend. Following the exhibition, parents are welcome to escort their children home until the following school session.
Respectfully,
Master Lan Qiren
A-Sang,
Forgive me for the delay in my reply. Time, for once, seems to be running and running fast. I do hope you come to the spring student show, and perhaps bring your daughter? A-Míng speaks of her often.
On a personal note, there is much I wish to speak with you about, in person. If you are unable to come to the Cloud Recesses, I would be happy to fly A-Míng home.
Until then,
Er-ge