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After that disastrous spectacle she'd made of herself in Jinlintai, the last thing Luo Qingyang wants to do is go back to her now former clan grounds. But unfortunately, leaving her clan is not quite as simple as the announcement she’d made then, at least not if she doesn’t wish to leave everything she has behind.

She mounts her sword and, through sheer spite-fuelled determination, manages to make it back without stopping to take a break. It's so exhausting that she almost collapses when she finally arrives at her destination, yet Qingyang welcomes the feeling. She’s poured all the hurt into this effort, and the burning fatigue she feels in her core numbs her turmoil, grounding her to the reality of her choices.

Part of her irrationally feels as though the news should have traveled here already that more mocking words and judging glances await her inside from her now former shidi and shimei. She knows that’s impossible, however. Fengxiang might not be too far from Lanling, but Liao-zongzhu would not have gone through so much effort just for the daughter of a servant, especially if her former shidi are still waiting for her to apologize as she’d heard them say before she left the room.

Reminding herself of that, Qingyang forces her feet to carry her inside. Just as expected, nothing happens. 

She gets a few strange looks, but she can attribute those to her frazzled appearance and the unexpectedness of her presence at this time. One shijie stops her to ask if something happened, and, even though she knows her to be kind, Qingyang can’t bring herself to explain what’s going on, still haunted by the memory of her martial siblings turning against her.

Qingyang drags her feet to her room, excusing herself from all the concerned shijie and shimei that approach her, and collapses on her bed. This is the last time she’ll get the comfort of doing so, the last she’ll see of this room, so she savors the feeling while she can.

She doesn’t mean to, but weary as she is, Qingyang can’t stop herself from slipping into exhausted sleep.

When she comes to, the first thing Qingyang registers is that there’s an insistent thump at her door.

“Go away,” she mumbles, caught up in a dreamlike state. “Let me sleep.”

“I see that everything is fine if that’s how you greet your shishu,” a warm, teasing voice replies. “Should I come back to check on you tomorrow?”

Reality comes crashing down on her when Qingyang hears the hint of concern in that familiar tone. She’s struck by a wave of grief as she remembers the conditions in which she came back to the clan, which is not helped by her martial uncle’s presence.

Liu Yufeng is someone that for a long time now Qingyang had looked to as a piece of home away from home, the one person that's been in her corner from the very moment she’d joined the clan. After all, her parent’s friend had been the reason she was able to cultivate in the first place, the one who thought she had potential despite her background and subsequently brought her into the clan.

She wants to tell him what happened, to finally allow herself to break down in the arms of someone she trusts, but there is one thing that gives Qingyang pause. How can she be sure her shishu will stand on her side? She would like to think he would, yet she can’t ignore the possibility that he might not. He’s been part of this clan for longer than she’s been alive, it would not be unreasonable if he stayed on their side. 

It’s just that right now, Qingyang knows that losing him as well would break her heart. 

When she’s silent for a moment too long, Liu-shishu knocks on her door again, softly insistent. “Did you really fall back asleep, Mianmian?”

“No, no, I’m awake. I…” she trails off, unsure how to put her feelings into words. ”Just give me a moment.”

“Take your time,” he encourages, in that patient tone that lets her know he means it. 

Qingyang takes him up on that offer, taking her time to straighten her rumpled robes and to do what she can to salvage her disheveled hair. It isn’t much, but she’d like to be a little presentable at least. 

Her shishu is leaning against a wall when she finally opens the door, eyes closed in what almost looks like meditation. It’s a scene she’s seen many times throughout the years. Qingyang has never liked being rushed, especially when it comes to her emotions, and her shishu had quickly learned to give her time to find her words when she needed it. Seeing him like this encourages her even as it heightens her grief. 

Once Qingyang steps into the hallway, his eyes open to meet hers, giving her a searching look that makes her feel painfully young. 

She tries her best not to squirm under his scrutiny, feeling a little like a child trying to hide how upset she really is. But, just like when she’d been a child, it doesn’t work. 

Liu-shishu’s already calm demeanor softens further and he takes a step toward her, pinning her in place with knowing eyes. “What happened, Qingyang?” he asks softly, as though she is a scared little sheep who would hide away if he isn’t gentle.

Perhaps she is. 

Qingyang would have liked to remain strong as she announced her decision. However, in the quiet of her dormitory’s hallway, with only the two of them in sight, she can’t help but crumble. “Shishu, I… I’m leaving the clan,” she chokes out. 

Her throat is tight, her eyes are filled with tears and she can’t look Liu-shishu in the eyes, fearing she’ll only find disapproval there.

Instead, warm, strong arms wrap around her, hiding her from the world. Qingyang immediately latches onto that comfort, letting her tears fall as she clings to his robes. For the first time since that dreadful banquet, Qingyang feels warm and safe.

“Shh, it’ll be okay,” he soothes. “Can you tell me what happened?”

She does. Through trembling words, Qingyang tells him the story from the beginning, not just what had happened that day, but also everything that led to her defense of Wei Wuxian, hoping to make him understand what she meant to say.

Liu-shishu hums thoughtfully once she’s done, running a comforting hand up and down her upper back.

“You did a good thing there, Mianmian,” he says at last. “No matter what others say, I’m proud of you for standing up for what you believe in and defending that young man. I know your parents will be too.”

Qingyang hides her face on his shoulder, holding on impossibly tighter. His words are all she didn’t know she’d wanted to hear, and though she still feels at a loss on what to do now, the reassurance gives Qingyang back some of her strength.

It’s easy to feel hopeless standing alone against a crowd of angry voices, but she isn’t alone. Her family is on her side, and there are others out there that must be, too. Like Hanguang-jun, whose voice may not be loud enough to change those minds, but whose kindness she treasures all the same. They might have only spoken for a brief moment, but he’d encouraged her to stand by her decision, and showed her that she wasn’t alone in her beliefs. 

She finds herself hoping Wei-gongzi knows this feeling too. If it had rattled Qingyang this much to stand against her clan, she can’t imagine what it must be like for him, standing alone on the other side of the majority of the Jianghu.

If only she could tell him there are still others who stand with him too.

Everything feels lighter the next day. It feels a little silly to her, but giving her emotions the time to settle helps Qingyang more than anything. 

After the conversation with her shishu, she’d stayed in her room for one last night, taking the time to say goodbye to the place she called home these past few years. In the morning she told a few of her shijie and shimei what happened, braving the fear of judgment in order to say her farewells.

The conversation did not go smoothly, but in the end most of the girls were on her side, especially those who knew about the incident during the indoctrination, when Wei Wuxian prevented her from getting branded with a Wen symbol. There was too little time to pick fights, so the girls who were against her choice let her be. They saw there was little reason to argue when Qingyang was already getting ready to leave.

She packs with the help of her friends, and by noon they see her off alongside Liu-shishu, who sends her back home with his regards to her parents.

The journey back to her parent’s home is shorter, since they live in a village on the outskirts of Fengxiang. Qingyang is still tired from the day before, but she keeps her head held high through all of it. Her heart might still feel soft and a little broken, but she’s certain in her decision.

Walking through her home village is more soothing than she’d expected it to be. Qingyang had been afraid that regret might have kept her from enjoying it, but instead she feels nothing but reassurance from taking in the familiar sights.

It hasn’t been that long since she’s visited, but this time feels different, so Qingyang takes her time reacquainting herself with the market. The streets are lively in the late morning, bustling with vendors selling all kinds of wares and children running about. 

She stops every so often to greet those she’s familiar with. There’s a good amount of people she knows in town, since Qingyang goes back home to visit her parents frequently. For all that she had gotten used to living in the disciple dorms over the years, there has never been anything like coming home. 

Qingyang is also pretty well known in the village, more thanks to her parents than anything she’s done herself. It’s rare that a servant’s daughter has the chance to join a cultivation clan, so while they weren’t ones for bragging, she’s still their pride and joy, which they’ve shared with all their friends and whoever else would hear. 

“Mianmian!” someone yells from a stall a little ways ahead of her. 

She knows who it is before she even turns her head to see her. Linghua-jie is as close a childhood friend as she can be with them living so far apart from each other, and would always call to Qingyang just like this when she’d caught her back in the village

It warms her heart when she looks up to see her friend waving happily in her direction. Qingyang is just as excited, of course. 

Quickening her pace, she rushes to reach the stall where her friend and her mother are selling buns.

“Linghua-jie!” she greets, grinning from ear to ear.

“How have you been?” Linghua asks, urging Qingyang to come to her side for a moment with an apologetic smile thrown her mother’s way. “Are those cultivators still behaving?”

Her friend’s question is phrased lightly, hiding the darker implications under her words. Qingyang knows that, while theirs had been a cultivators’ war, the common people hadn’t been unaffected; and that because of her involvement in it, her family and friends had worried greatly. 

She doesn’t regret her stand then either, but she feels sorry for frightening them.

“Not very much,” Qingyang grimaces. With everything that’s been happening around Wei Wuxian, she can’t in good conscience say that the cultivation clans are behaving. Although at least those tensions are not something that those close to her need to worry about. “Things are… tense, even as they’re settling into place again. I can tell you more if you have time later?” 

Linghua’s eyebrows shoot upwards. “That bad, huh?”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “But that’s not for us to concern ourselves with. Now, tell me about you! How have you been? Did anything exciting happen while I was away?”

“Well, actually…” Linghua trails off coyly, stepping closer to Qingyang. “I met someone!”

“You’ve started courting?!” Qingyang hadn’t meant to raise her voice, but it’s hard to contain the mix of surprise and delight she feels. It’s not every day her friend has such big news, after all. 

At her friend’s excited nod, Qingyang draws her into a hug. 

“You’ll have to tell me all about it!” 

Neither of them have much time to talk. Linghua needs to go back to work, and Qingyang has a family to return to. So, though Qingyang lingers long enough to buy a few buns to take home and greet her friend’s mother properly, the two part ways, with a promise to see one another soon. 

The rest of her walk ends up being fairly uneventful. Past the market, there aren’t as many people on the streets, and the closer she gets to the Gao estate, the more the houses dwindle. It’s not enough for her to call the Gao truly secluded, but they keep themselves distant enough to give an air of otherness about them, a visible sign of their wealth. 

Having worked for them for years now, Qingyang’s parents have their own house inside the estate in an area reserved for servants. She isn’t sure she’ll be allowed to stay there for long without serving the Gao family now that she’s grown, but she hopes to, even if she’ll need to pay for her stay. 

This is the house where she’d spent her childhood, Qingyang can’t imagine a better comfort right now - she has so many fond memories of this place. No matter what her former martial siblings had to say about her being the daughter of a servant, she feels only happiness coming back home, no shame in her background.

She stops to speak with the servants that receive her at the door, catching up with the aunts and uncles she’s close to. It’s good to see them, although she also makes use of the opportunity to ask what her parents are most likely doing at the moment before she continues on to their house.

Upon finding out her father should be going home for lunch soon, she takes her leave, wanting to surprise him with her presence. Qingyang asks an aunt she’s always been particularly close with to ask her mother to come her way when she can, then waves goodbye to her and her parents' other friends.

It’s a short walk to her home, a small, but comfortable house at the back of the property in the area meant to house servants. 

Qingyang lets herself in with ease, and spends a few seconds just taking in the house around her. Looking at her disciple room for the last time yesterday had left her feeling raw and empty, but seeing her parents home again helps soothe some of that loss. Because this, too, is her home; the very first one. 

Having it to welcome her still doesn’t negate the grief of leaving her second home, but it’s a reassurance nonetheless. 

She leaves her things in her room then returns to the living area. She considers starting on lunch, but she doesn’t know when exactly her father will arrive and would rather it not get cold, so in the end Qingyang settles for setting the buns she bought on the table and waiting.

To her relief, it’s only around a ke or so before her father comes through the door. He’s halfway into saying something to her mother when his eyes focus on her and he stops mid sentence. 

“Mianmian!” he says, hurrying to sit by her side. “What a nice surprise!” 

Wearing matching smiles, Qingyang greets her father with a hug. “Hi, A-Die.”

“Look at you,” he sighs, pulling away just enough to look her in the eyes. “I swear you’ve grown more every time I see you.”

“It hasn’t been that long, A-Die,” she laughs. 

The two of them sit down to talk as they wait for her mother. Her heart is heavy with the news she has to deliver, but Qingyang still relaxes in the presence of her father. It’s impossible not to, when she’s received with so much warmth.

Between stories from her travels and her father’s days, time passes fast. Soon, her mother joins them, pausing at the door in surprise just as her father had, then rushing to come give Qingyang a hug of her own.

“What a lovely surprise to come home to,” she tells her. “You should have sent word that you were coming, I would have prepared something for you.”

“Thank you, A-Niang,” Qingyang softens. “I didn’t really plan to come…”

She knows even without asking that they will stand by her side, yet she’s reluctant to ruin her parent’s moods with her news. So Qingyang swallows her grief while they share a meal, wanting to at least greet her mother and father with a smile.

It isn’t an effort to keep it there. Qingyang wouldn’t say she’s faking happiness in spite of her true feelings. She’s always enjoyed this, coming back and telling her parents of her adventures, it's one of her favorite parts of having them in the first place. What with how bleak the past few years have been due to the Sunshot Campaign, she’s glad to have good stories to share, normal for the life of a cultivator. She can almost pretend that nothing has changed from when she was a child excitedly telling her parents about her exploits, taking each new experience with innocent wonder and delight. 

Yet their meal eventually comes to an end, reminding Qingyang that she should face her problems.

So she forces herself to tell them then. She’s careful not to make her account of the events too sad; this isn’t like when she’d told Liu-shishu, when she’d been distraight. No, Qingyang is grieving, but with her mother and father there to hold her hand, she doesn’t feel that hopeless.

Bittersweet is the best word she can come up with to describe their reactions. While her parents are sad for her, they are quick to assure her that they will be happy to have her living with them again. They are proud of her and the stance she’s taken, and certain that she will be a wonderful rogue cultivator.

It’s everything she could have wanted in a situation like this. However, in spite of Qingyang feeling loved and comforted, she can’t help but be saddened by needing that care in the first place. After all, this moment between them has only come about because she has severed ties with her second family.

But going back on her decision isn’t an option she would ever consider, so Qingyang embraces the warmth of the family she still has left.

Qingyang hadn’t been sure what to expect of her life after leaving the Liao Clan. She’d known a thing or two about rogue cultivators, but the bulk of that knowledge came from rumors and stories, which were far from the best source. The reality of it is both easier and harder than she envisioned.

In some ways, being a rogue cultivator was as easy as traveling in search of trouble and helping wherever needed. However, she was discovering that there were a lot of little things her former clan took care of that she didn't realize. Her resources were very limited now, from medicine to even the most general supplies, so Qingyang needed to take great care of how she spent them. And since she was on her own now, with no one to help her through difficult cases or go looking for her if she didn’t come home, she needed to be more cautious with the risks night hunting posed to her life.

At least it turned out that with the Jianghu still recovering from the Sunshot Campaign, she wasn't short on work. Even if Qingyang was somewhat limited due to her wish not to stray too far from her village at this time, she’d rather work around these limitations than worry her parents by staying away too long. 

It feels good to keep busy too. Focusing on the new things, good and bad, keep her grounded in the present, rather than musing about what could have been.

Her life as it is doesn’t lack good things to look forward to either. It’s been good to spend more time with her parents, and though she misses her friends from the Liao Clan, Qingyang does have a few friends in her village still. Linghua is also eager to introduce her to more people now that she’s there to stay, including her beau.

It isn’t what she’d envisioned for herself, but Qingyang is finding that after the bleak few years she had endured during the Sunshot Campaign, this quiet life is good.

She’s on her way back home from a night hunt when she runs into a merchant family being attacked by a yao. Qingyang barely has time to take in the situation before she’s acting, because though four of the five family members are standing safely near their wagon, hidden behind two guards that, while not cultivators, seem to be handling the situation well, one of them has strayed from the group.

A boy her age, maybe a little younger, is holding a short sword out clumsily toward the creature advancing against him. 

There’s no time to think, so Qingyang doesn’t do so before she jumps in front of him. In a split second, she grabs the boy’s arm and pulls him away from the yao’s path, meeting its blow with her sword. 

The creature snarls as it’s pushed back, and its counterattack is even more aggressive, But Qingyang doesn’t falter. Something like this is far from the worst she’s faced, the real challenge is to fight so very close to people. 

She’s careful with her attacks to direct the beast away from both the family and the boy behind her. While it’s difficult to do so by herself, with no one to help protect the onlookers, she manages it with a little help from the guards, who step in to help. 

Once Qingyang has space to fight, it’s not a difficult battle. This is the sort of creature that, while outside of the realm of what common people are able to deal with on their own, a cultivator at her level can handle easily. So she ends it as soon as she can, with a clean blow to the heart. 

When she’s done, Qingyang turns toward the family. She’s relieved to see that the boy she’d protected before had joined them sometime during her battle. His wide eyes are fixed on her, and his face is flushed, but he doesn’t seem to be injured, none of them do. 

Although the boy opens his mouth as if to say something, nothing comes out, so Qingyang takes the initiative. “Are you alright?” she asks. ”Were any of you hurt?”

The boy shakes his head, flushing further. “Thank you for the assistance, guniang.”

She wonders if he’s embarrassed that she saved him. That happens with men sometimes, so it wouldn’t be surprising. But there’s a glimmer in his eyes that tells her that might not be it. 

“It’s no problem,” she smiles, then turns to address the group properly. “I’m happy to help.”

“Still, thank you,” the woman –  the only one in the group – says. She seems to be around the same age as Qingyang’s mother. “It’s Luo-guniang, isn’t it?”

Qingyang pauses. “I… Yes, yes I am. I’m sorry, do we know each other?”

With how much she’s been traveling the region, she knows it’s possible that they’ve met before, but even looking closer, Qingyang can’t place the woman’s face anywhere. She is vaguely familiar, though not enough that anything comes to mind.

“Ah, it’s no surprise you don’t remember me. I think the last time I met you, you were half your height,” she laughs. “I'm familiar with your mother, we've met on several occasions.”

It’s somehow more unexpected to her that she’s being recognized as her parents' daughter than as a cultivator, but strange as it is, she finds that she doesn’t mind it. “What an unlikely coincidence,” Qingyang says. “I assume you’re headed to Zhu Village too?”

From this path, there are other directions where the merchant family could have been headed to, but it makes sense that Qingyang would run into someone from her village on her way home.  

The woman and her husband introduce themselves as Bai Hua and Qiu Yang, and they quickly strike up a conversation with Qingyang and invite her to travel with them since they’re going the same way. 

Her presence seems to make them feel safer, so she’s happy to oblige, though she refuses their offer to pay for her aid. She also finds that she’s glad to have a few travel companions to talk to. Wandering alone can be pleasant, but Qingyang enjoys having someone to keep her company too.

Although her husband and sons chime in every so often, Bai Hua is the one who leads the conversation, telling her about how she and Qingyang’s mother know each other, their family, their trade. She asks questions too, about how Qingyang has been, how it is like to be a cultivator, if she’s been enjoying being back home.

She’s tactful enough not to ask why Qingyang left her clan behind, though in the wake of the Sunshot Campaign and the current conflicts with Wei Wuxian, Qingyang knows she isn’t the only one who has chosen this path. So perhaps it isn’t so strange to these people that she’s become a rogue cultivator, especially if they’ve kept themselves informed.

The young men are the most interested when she’s telling stories about her travels, captivated by tales of her encounters with monsters and the dead. Though throughout the entire time there’s one of them whose interest doesn’t waver regardless of the subject. Qiu Shui, the boy she’d jumped in front of earlier, keeps glancing her way. 

He’s subtle enough that if she were a common girl, she thinks she might have missed it. But Qingyang is a cultivator, he isn’t sneaky enough for her heightened senses. For his sake, she pretends to be clueless, endeared by what she’s tentatively guessing to be his admiration.

She keeps up the charade until her conversation with his mother dwindles, and he takes the opportunity to step by her side. Qingyang looks at him openly then, but she stays silent, waiting to see what he has to say.

“Thank you again, Luo-guniang,” he starts. “This Qiu isn’t sure what he would’ve done without your help back there.”

Qingyang smiles, but waves him off. “It really is no trouble.” 

Walking side by side as they were now, she couldn’t help herself from taking a closer look at the boy. Qiu Shui is boyish in a way she’d gotten unused to seeing. Her shidi and shixiong had all grown so serious over the last three years, so though they are all young men, they weren’t as carefree. It’s refreshing how the boy beside her doesn’t seem to hold the same kind of weight on his shoulders. He seems to be a calm, or rather, quiet person, but his eyes are bright and warm.

“I suppose not, for a powerful cultivator.” He smiles, tentatively teasing, yet she can tell his words are genuine too. “But it was very impressive from where I was watching.”

She shakes her head at him, amused despite herself. “I’ll take the compliment then.”

“It must be nice to be so confident you can handle whatever danger you come across,” he says. “Is it fun to travel by yourself? I always travel with my family and a few guards, and we’re careful about running across such things.” 

“Not everything is that easy to deal with, you know? I miss having my shimei and shijie looking out for me sometimes, but I like being out on my own too,” Qingyang answers honestly. “When you travel by yourself, you can choose to go wherever you like.”

“What were some of your favorite places you’ve been?”

“Hmm, now that’s a hard question.”

Conversation flows easily between them through the rest of their walk home. To the point where Qingyang is startled when they arrive in Zhu village, not having noticed the time pass. 

She’s even a little sorry to part ways. It’s possible, even likely, that their paths will cross again. They do not live that far apart, after all, and she knows Qiu Shui won’t escape her notice now. But she can’t be sure of when they’ll have time to speak like this again. 

Qingyang can’t help hoping it won’t take too long.  

Asking her parents about the merchant family had been one of the first things Qingyang had done when she got home from that trip. Her mother had told her a few stories about Bai Hua and her family, confirming they’re friends, though not very close ones. It’s interesting to see them from her parents’ eyes, though they don’t have much more to say about the Qiu sons than what she’d already discovered on her encounter with them.

She catches glances of the merchant family every so often over the next few days, but never when she has time enough to steal the third son for a conversation.

It’s a pity, really, but every time they cross paths one of them seems to be busy. Meeting Qiu Shui might not be a concern she keeps at the forefront of her mind, but she’d been excited to make a new friend.

Since it can’t be helped, she puts it away from her mind. Despite it being a little disappointing, she can content herself with brief waves and smiles shared from afar. 

It’s a pleasant surprise then, when she’s running some errands for her parents and catches their stall at a time where there’s enough of a lull in business that she doesn’t feel guilty walking up to say hello.

There are still a few customers there when Qingyang walks up to them, so she stands quietly nearby, waiting for them to be free before stepping closer. Qiu Shui notices her, however. He barely shows it, but Qingyang catches the way his eyes brighten and his lips curl up slightly.

She doesn’t mind watching them work. Qiu Shui and Bai Hua are the only ones working at the moment, and it’s interesting to see how they go about it. Bai Hua is as friendly as she’d been to Qingyang when they first met, while Qiu Shui is calmer, but a helpful and confident seller.

They don’t take long to assist the customers, and soon enough, Qiu Shui turns to her. “Luo-guniang!” he beckons her closer. 

Qingyang doesn’t miss the searching glance he gives her as she approaches. She knows she looks different, in simpler robes than the ones she’d been using when they first met, without her sword by her side, but though he seems surprised, his expression is no less admiring.

Against Qingyang’s will, her cheeks warm. 

“What brings you here today? Is there something specific you’re looking for?” Bai Hua offers Qingyang a small container. “Maybe some rouge, or a pretty accessory if you’re looking to impress a young man?" she teases. “We have some fans that might suit your taste too.”

“I thought I’d stop by to see what you have?” she says shyly. 

Thankfully, before Bai Hua can continue, Qiu Shui comes to her rescue. “How about I show you what we have?”

“That’d be lovely, thank you.”

Bai Hua laughs, but lets them be.

Most of the time, Qingyang appreciates the woman’s friendliness. However, teasing is a weakness of hers,  so she’s glad to have escaped. 

Speaking with Qiu Shui may not be all that much better for her heart, but at least she doesn’t have to worry about offending the boy too much. She’d rather not flounder with her words around one of her mother’s friends. Bai Hua probably wouldn’t mind, but the idea that she’d find it amusing only made the thought even more mortifying to Qingyang.

“What do you think of these?” He directs her eyes to an array of painted paper fans. 

They're beautiful, that's for certain. She lingers on several of the different paintings, appreciating the careful, elegant artwork. 

But fans are not quite Qingyang's style, she can't see herself carrying one. So to be polite, she settles on, "They're nice." 

Qiu Shui gives her a knowing smile. "I'm guessing they don't fit your taste, huh?" 

"Am I that obvious?" 

“Just a little bit,” he says gently. “It’s part of the job to tell if the customer is satisfied, so you can blame all of it on me.”

He gestures to the jewelry then, bringing a small assortment of necklaces and bracelets closer to her. “What about these? Do any of them catch your eye?”

She takes a close look at them, intent on giving the items a fair chance at gaining her interest. Some do fit her style, Qingyang likes the ones that look durable, but delicate, with designs that aren't too complicated. 

She likes them, yet there’s something missing still. "I like a few of them, but I wouldn't say they really caught my eye."

“Mm-hmm, what about…” Qiu Shui’s eyes fall on her once more, and it takes all of Qingyang’s strength not to crumble under the attention. She wants to fidget, or say something, but somehow, she manages to stay silent as he picks another item and offers it to her. 

It’s a bracelet, similar in style to the ones she’d complimented before, beautiful, yet unassuming. Qingyang does like it, but what sells it to her are the words he says next: “What about something like this? The color isn’t as beautiful as your eyes’, but it still looks nice. It brings out their brightness.”

Though his attempt at flirting is awkward, It’s said so genuinely that Qingyang can’t be anything but endeared. Her cheeks warm again, and she smiles despite herself. 

“It’s quite pretty, yes,” she says, just as awkwardly.

“Do you actually like it?” 

Qiu Shui isn’t looking directly at her when he asks. There’s a faint flush on his cheeks, and he seems just as close to fidgeting with the bracelet in his hands as she feels holding onto the edges of her sleeves.

It only makes her more certain of her answer.

“Yes, I… I really like it.”

His lips curl upwards, a shy, hopeful thing. “Then it's yours.”

Qingyang blinks. “What?”

Her acceptance seems to have given Qiu Shui some confidence, because a bit of mischief sneaks into his grin. “A gift from me.”

“You don’t need to,” she hurries to say. 

It’s partially her fluttering heart speaking, unsure how to deal with a situation like this. She’s been flirted with before, but she’s never been so charmed. There’s a part of her, however, a little voice in the back of her head, that’s afraid of him feeling obligated in some way for her coming to his aid earlier. .

“I want to,” he insists, without a hint of dishonesty. 

Then Qiu Shui reaches for her hand, pulls her forward, and places the bracelet on her wrist.

Well. When he puts it this way, how could she refuse?

There had been hints during their first meeting that this was the direction their relationship would take, but it’s that second meeting that sets the pace for what comes next.

Nothing of note happens immediately, per se. They continue sneaking time together when they can, sharing short conversations when she catches him in the market, or sitting down to talk on the rare occasions they both have time. 

Qingyang enjoys becoming his friend before anything else. Being uninvolved in all the tragedy the Jianghu has gone through, Qiu Shui is different from the boys she’d gotten used to knowing. He’s carefree, unburdened in a way that brings the youthfulness out in her too. She’s surprised by herself, by how much fun she has when he’s around to trade stories or get her to play silly word games; happiness comes so easily when they’re like that. 

He’s not naive, however. As a merchant, he knows enough to understand most of what she has to say about her past few years. Qingyang doesn’t go into detail, she isn’t ready to do that with anyone just yet, but what she can bring herself to say is enough to paint a picture. And Qiu Shui has his own stories to share as well, one doesn’t travel so much without having been caught up in a few adventures, even if they’re not the cultivator’s kind.

She won’t put a name to it so soon, but… it’s good, this thing that they’re building together. Ever so slightly she can feel new parts of her bloom as these feelings grow. Now when she comes home from her travels, she doesn’t think only of her parents, or Linghua-jie and the friends she’d introduced her to, but also of shy, gentle smiles, and persistent attempts to charm that grow less and less awkward with practice.

It’s an addition to her life she couldn’t ever have expected, but that Qingyang is truly grateful for.

When both of their parents agree that it’s a good idea for Qingyang to accompany Qiu Shui in a short trip he needs to make for his family business – because of course since she is strong and used to traveling on her own, Qingyang is the ideal companion for what’s supposed to be a quick excursion – she does her best to ignore the weight of everything they know and aren’t saying. 

It’s placing a lot of trust in them to send them off alone, so she can do them that courtesy.

Qingyang can’t even say that she’s upset, for all that she’d like to pout about it. She’d been greedily taking any little bit of time she could get with Qiu Shui for enough time now that she couldn’t even fake that convincingly.

Or at least she couldn’t have then. Now that they’ve been left alone, Qingyang thinks she could have done a marvelous job of conveying annoyance in Qiu Shui’s general direction despite the fact he’d yet to say a word to her. 

It’s not exactly that she’s mad at him . But ever since he came to pick her up at her parents’ house Qingyang has been preemptively frustrated with herself, at the way her face insists on warming and butterflies flutter in her stomach in anticipation.

Because she already knows exactly what he’ll say.

It’s perhaps worse that he doesn’t immediately speak what’s on his mind. Instead, they walk in silence for a couple of minutes while Qingyang waits for the inevitable, ignoring Qiu Shui’s amused glances.

She’s proven right when he does break the silence, however. 

“So…” he draws out. “Mianmian?” His attempt to sound casual almost works, but only almost. 

Her heart skips a beat after her nickname leaves his lips, just as she’d known it would.

“It’s what my family and friends call me, yes,” Qingyang huffs.

“Are we not friends then?” He asks, feigning hurt. “I’ve never heard that name before.”

It’s true that, in an odd turn of events, he’d never heard her nickname before. Because they were always either walking by themselves around the village, or around his family in the market, Qiu Shui knew her as she’d introduced herself and only that. Which means that earlier, when he first met her parents, was the first time he heard her being called Mianmian.

Qingyang isn’t embarrassed by her nickname, she likes it, but that’s precisely the problem. Hearing Qiu Shui call her like that is just too much!

“Of course we’re friends,” she says, wanting that to be clear from the outset. “But didn’t your parents teach you that it’s rude to address your elders with nicknames before being given permission?”

Perhaps it’s the subject of their conversation that brings up that specific memory, but the hint of teasing hidden in his grin reminds her of another charming boy from years ago, who started their conversation by calling her Mianmian instead of asking for her name.

She quickly waves the memory away, however. She’d much rather be in this moment, with Qiu Shui, the sweet, infuriating boy that Qingyang is currently exasperated to admit she likes much better.

“My apologies then,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. “But since we’re such good friends, then may this one have your permission to say Luo-jiejie instead of guniang?”

Bold as he is in his words, there’s a soft pink tint to Qiu Shui’s cheeks now. It comforts her a little, to know that she isn’t the only one being affected by this conversation, that even if he hides it better under his tame expression, he’s likely as flustered as she is. 

Not about to let him have the final word, she responds with, “Only if you’ll allow me to call you Qiu-er.”

Qiu Shui stumbles. He quickly catches himself, but he’s red enough that Qingyang has a hard time containing a smile in response. She thinks this might be the most nervous she’s seen him act. 

He even avoids her eyes when he mutters, “Jijie can call me whatever she wants.”

It’s only her cultivator training that keeps Qingyang from stumbling herself. Forming any words at all is hard when he’s looking that sweet. 

So she doesn’t say anything, not immediately at least. They both walk in awkward silence as they give their emotions time to settle. 

Eventually they do break the silence, floundering and stuttering through this new territory they’ve breached. It’s clumsy at first, but they know each other well enough by now that it doesn’t take them too long to go back to their usual familiar ease. 

It’s terrible, Qingyang thinks as her embarrassment turns into delight, the kinds of things that liking someone can do. 

She is starting to suspect her heart will never recover. 

They only grow closer from then on. It’s such a simple change, but there’s a comfort in the change of addresses, it reminds her that though neither of them has put it into words just yet, they both know exactly where they’re headed.

Qiu Shui meets her at her house a few more times and meets her parents again, she introduces him to Linghua too, and the new friends she’s made; he introduces her to a few friends in turn. It’s good. It makes her feel invincible, like nothing in the world can go wrong. How could it, now that she’s found this easy happiness?

So it doesn’t come as a surprise to her when he asks her one day if he can court her officially now.

It happens on their second trip together. By his own idea, Qiu Shui had been accompanying her on a night hunt this time. While there isn't much he could do to help her, he'd always been interested, and he knows that though she enjoyed her solo adventures for the most part, Qingyang also misses having someone to travel along with her at times.

She had reluctantly accepted, taking care to choose an easy case to ensure he wouldn't get hurt, and despite her worries, having him there accompanying her ended up being an unexpectedly pleasant change of pace. Qiu Shui had even proven himself helpful when investigating what exactly was going on in the village; his friendly demeanor and charming smile, combined with a certain level of persuasiveness brought on from his family's business. allowed them to open doors that otherwise might have remained closed.

It had been a fun night for them both, so much so that Qingyang was still feeling giddy on their way back. He chooses that time to do it, in the early morning when they’re walking back home. 

There's nothing special about the moment. It's peaceful, there’s something beautiful in the way the morning sun reflects on the surface of the nearby river, but it’s not particularly different from any other time they’ve been together. 

Except that this time, he looks at her, sweet and sincere, and says, “I think I could do this forever. I think… I want to be with you forever.”

Time stops at that moment, Qingyang doesn’t even think she’s breathing.

“Can I court you formally, Luo-jiejie?”

There’s nothing she can say other than a breathless “Yes.”

Happiness washes over her slowly, as she processes what’s just happened. It’s funny how such a simple moment can feel so monumental, though Qingyang thinks that the simplicity of it makes it better.

Because she thinks she could do this forever too, that being with Qiu Shui feels magical enough by itself that there’s nothing else she’d rather do.

Qingyang hears about it when she’s traveling.

She’s alone this time, walking by herself in an unfamiliar market, ready to unravel yet another mystery plaguing the town she’s currently passing by. There’s no way to avoid it, to run from the comments and cheers. The news spread like wildfire and whatever has been bothering the residents takes a back seat.

For the second time since that fateful banquet where she spoke against her martial siblings, Qingyang feels so very alone.

Because she can’t cheer with these people, she can’t even force herself to fake a smile. All she can do is stare numbly as her chest grows heavy with grief.

None of them understand what they’re saying, none of them know ; that or they don’t care to. There are no dissenting voices in the crowd, or if there were, they were shut down before Qingyang could hear them.

Wei Wuxian is dead, and everyone around her is cheering.

Qingyang hadn’t truly known him, they’d barely talked and yet she can barely keep herself from crying. Perhaps it’s because she knows that not many others will be sad about this, that there is barely anyone else who will mourn. 

She thinks of a blank-faced boy who’d praised her for speaking in Wei Wuxian’s defense and wonders if he feels this way too. Hanguang-jun was not mentioned to have been anywhere in the siege, it's said that he has been in secluded meditation since the fallout at Nightless City.

Somehow, Qingyang has an inkling that he might have it worse. 

From that day on, Qingyang carries that grief with her. 

It’s something that changes her, not overly much, but enough. The faith she’d once had in the Jianghu has been broken, and she feels that she’s been left with even fewer allies than before. 

Qingyang knows that she isn’t alone, though. She has her parents, who don’t quite understand what’s happened, but are happy to listen to her thoughts regardless. She has Linghua, Qiu Shui, and her newly made friends, who know enough about cultivators to have their own opinions, but are also ready to listen to her, even her shishu, who is still part of her former clan, stands together with her. Their support is a privilege she knows better than to take for granted now, so Qingyang cherishes them with new eyes.

There isn’t much she can do, besides remember this lesson. 

Life moves on, and so does Qingyang. 

Slowly, but surely, she continues to build a place for herself in Zhu Village. The people and sights there become as familiar to her as her former clan grounds had been. She grows closer with Linghua-jie, she continues to court Qiu Shui.

The days pass, and Qingyang grows. She gets married to Qiu Shui on a bright spring day. Two years later, they welcome their daughter into the world. And though the world continues to be unkind, in the little corner of it she’s carved for herself, Qingyang is happy. 

“Be careful, Mianmian!” Qingyang calls after her daughter. 

She’s not worried enough to make her way up to where Mianmian is running around exploring, but she’s ready to step in if the need arises. At three years old, Mianmian has started feeling more confident to explore the world ahead of them on these walks, leaving her parents to walk at a slower pace behind her.

Mianmian yells back a distracted “Alright, Mama!” from where she’s gotten busy investigating a flower, only to start running again a few seconds later. It earns her a huff of laughter from Qingyang and Shui, who walk side by side a little ways away from their child. 

“She gets it from you, you know,” Shui says, swinging their entwined hands back and forth. “Our Xiao-Mianmian is as lively as her mother.”

“Mm-hmm, and you have no fault for any of that mischief?” Qingyang raises an eyebrow at him.

“Of course not, I’ve always been a calm, quiet boy.”

“Ah yes, my Shui-er is so quiet, he didn’t even run off to night hunts with a cultivator the first chance he got.”

Her husband grins. “You can’t pin that on me. How could I have resisted the strong and beautiful heroine who saved my life and swept me off my feet?”

“So everything is my fault, huh?” she laughs.

“I wouldn’t go that far…”

Qingyang shakes her head at his provocations, but before he can retort, they’re both interrupted by their little one running back to them. “Mama, Baba, look!” 

“What do you have there, baobei?” Shui asks.

Their little Mianmian stands before them holding a stick forward. Qingyang isn’t sure just how she’s holding the thing, since it looks to be more than half of her small height. It’s not a very remarkable piece of wood otherwise, but she’s curious to know what her daughter sees in it.

Holding onto it with both her hands, Mianmian swings the stick from side to side clumsily before striking a somewhat familiar pose. “It’s a sword! Like Mama’s.”

Shui grins. “And you’re a cultivator out to fight evil?”

“Mn!” Mianmian nods seriously. 

Qingyang just about melts from how adorable it is. “I see. We’ll be in your care then, hm? Please protect us from any monsters you find ahead.”

“I will, Mama!” 

Then she runs off to explore again, leaving her amused parents to catch up with her.

“See?” Shui bumps his shoulder against hers. “She really is just like you.”

“I’ll concede to that,” Qingyang laughs. “But she’s a lot like you too.”

She means it. The more their daughter grows the more her personality shines, and from what Qingyang can tell, she’s taken after both of them. 

There’ll be moments when they’re together that Mianmian will remind her so vividly of Shui that it makes her heart hurt. It’s in the familiar tilt of her smile, the way her eyes light with the same quiet mischief her father does, how she’ll joke and play with the same quiet carefree air he does, or how they slump in the same way when tired. A myriad of little things that show how undeniably related the two of them are. 

And then there’ll be times like these, when Mianmian wants to be just like her mother. Qingyang thinks that’s probably the best compliment she will ever receive.

It’s still so strange, to have this little miracle of a person in their lives, somehow a perfect mixture of the both of them. Mianmian makes every step Qingyang took to get to this moment worth it. Without question, no matter which parent she takes after, Qingyang is proud.

“Do you really think we can do this? It’s not too early?” Qingyang asks for the third time that day.

Shui gives her a warm look from where he's laying in bed, filled with understanding. "Mianmian will be alright," he reassures, but there's a hint in his voice of the same worries she feels. "She’s used to us traveling already, and our parents can handle her.”

Qingyang sighs, turning to him as she finishes tying her hair. Her husband looks soft under the dim light of their room, laying in bed waiting for her. It's almost a physical ache how much she wants that comfort right now. 

So Qingyang rushes through the rest of her night routine, skipping whatever steps she can afford to, then climbs in bed with him. Objectively, being within Shui's embrace doesn't change anything, but it instantly settles something in Qingyang's heart. 

She sighs again, though it's less weary this time. “I feel like I’m more nervous about this trip than Mianmian is.”

“I’m nervous too,” Shui confesses.

She isn't surprised by the admission. Shui might have traveled more often than Qingyang these past few years, but it's still been too long since they've gone anywhere together. 

Even if it’s only for a day or two, three at most and that’s if everything goes really wrong, it’s nerve-racking to leave their daughter with her grandparents to go on a night hunt.

Before their daughter was born, they’d traveled together often as a pair of one and a half rogue cultivators as Shui would put it. Once her husband had learned to defend himself when the need arose and picked up a few cultivation tricks from her while accompanying her to night hunts, he’d left his family business to roam the Jianghu with her.

Qingyang had some of the most fun she’d ever had as a cultivator with him there, but then Mianmian came along, a happy surprise that threw off most of the plans they’d made back then. 

Rogue cultivating wasn’t feasible with a young baby, so Qingyang had put that on pause during the last months of her pregnancy, and Shui returned to his family’s business. 

Unprepared as they’ve been for it, neither of them regretted the decision. Qingyang had needed the time to recover from the pregnancy, and she enjoyed being there as much as she had for Mianmian’s first years. Shui had also enjoyed that routine, but now that Mianmian was a little older, they felt confident leaving her with their parents for the night. 

Qingyang wants to become a rogue cultivator again, even if slowly, and she wants her husband with her. Their Mianmian has been used to her father traveling with his family every so often, and recently they’ve gotten her used to Qingyang leaving as well. However, she and Shui had always made sure one of them was home with her; this is the first they are leaving her with her grandparents overnight. She’s almost nervous to the point of it being overwhelming, yet she wants it too much not to try, selfish as that might be.

It will be alright, she tells herself. Qingyang clings to the reassurances of her mother-in-law, who has proven herself to be of great support in this transition. Being a merchant, she had traveled away from her children with her husband as well, leaving Shui and his brothers with family just as they now plan to do with Mianmian. Her stories from those times help calm Qingyang’s heart, as does the steadfast assurance from both her in-laws and her own family that no matter what happens their daughter won’t find herself lacking in love and support.

If she could, Qingyang would banish these concerns from her mind, but now more than ever she has a responsibility to think of them.

“I don’t think I was this nervous on my first night hunt,” Qingyang laughs, and while it’s dry and a little forced, it’s a laugh nonetheless. “It feels silly.”

After being through a war, she hadn’t thought anything in the world would be able to shake her. However, being a parent is somehow the scariest thing she’s ever done. All Qingyang wants is for her daughter to grow up safe, happy and healthy, yet so much of everything is out of her control… 

“You didn’t have a little one to worry about back then,” Shui says, running a comforting hand through her hair.

“Mm-hmm.”

Against all logic, that gentle hand makes her feel safe. She knows that Shui has just as much power to control what may come in the future as she does, yet she still feels like nothing can go wrong when she’s hidden in the safety of his arms.

“We don’t have to go if you’re not ready,” he says. “Mianmian being ready to spend the night without us is important, but your feelings matter too.” 

“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” she laughs. “No matter how long we wait, I think the first time we leave her will always be the hardest.”

“It’s the same for me. Who knew that being a parent would be so stressful, huh?”

“I think everyone we know who is a parent told us so,” Qingyang says, not quite a joke, but a light-hearted enough comment that it earns her a chuckle from Shui.

Her husband places a kiss on top of her head and her nerves ease further. “I do really want to do this,” she continues, because it feels necessary to voice it. “I’ve missed traveling with you.

”I’ve missed it too,” Shui says, then his tone turns lighter too “Mmm, It’ll be good to face some creatures of the night again.”

“Looking forward to fighting, huh?” she teases. They both know very well just who will be doing most of that, but she lets her husband pretend.

“Of course!” Shui boasts with all the confidence of an arrogant young master, in that way he knows will make her laugh. “Don’t you know I’m the strongest fighter around here?” 

“Then I’ll look forward to watching you in action,” Qingyang jokingly agrees. 

Over the years Shui has become a bit of a fighter. He can defend himself with his short sword and use talismans if needed. Qingyang is still the one who engages enemies head on, but he does support her now.

“I’ll sweep you off your feet.” he promises.

Qingyang pulls him into a quick kiss. “Sounds like a plan.” 

Their conversation remains like this for the rest of the night. They talk about the things they’re looking forward to on their trip, about getting Mianmian a gift on the way back – because while the two of them usually resist the temptation of spoiling their daughter, the special occasion seems to call for a memento or two.

It doesn’t put Qingyang entirely at ease, but it’s enough that she does believe everything will be alright when she falls asleep.

“Can’t Mianmian go with Mama and Baba?” her daughter whines. Her voice is soft with sleep, but it’s loud to Qingyang from where she’s clinging to her back as they walk.

“When you’re older, baobei,” she promises. 

“But mama .” 

“Shh, it’ll be alright, hm? Mama and Baba will come home soon with a treat for you,” Shui soothes.

This close to her nap time, Mianmian is too tired to argue further, so she clings to her mother’s shoulders and cries instead. She doesn’t shed tears, but the sound is enough to convey she’s upset, so before she can become truly distraight, Shui continues talking to her. 

Qingyang joins him and together they calm her down enough that she falls asleep. It will be another battle to say goodbye in a few hours, but she’s hopeful that Mianmian will feel better after she has a nap.

If her daughter is truly distraught, Shui can stay with her; they’ve talked about it beforehand, about how neither of them has any intention of making this a bad experience for Mianmian, although Qingyang thinks her parents will be able to comfort their granddaughter just fine.

“Can you imagine how it’ll be when she’s old enough to night hunt with us?” Shui muses, glancing at Mianmian now sleeping on her back. “I’m sure she’ll be happy, but I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for that.”

“I know,” Qingyang half laughs, half sighs. “I have no idea how my teachers were able to handle it.”

Even talking about the prospect makes her a little nervous. Qingyang truly can’t imagine how her elders had done it; watching small, breakable children be sent out to fight with no experience sounds like one of the hardest things she can imagine doing. The little experience she has from watching groups of her shimei is a comfort, but not enough. 

She knows she will do so when the time comes for Mianmian to start her own training. After the experiences she’s had, Qingyang doesn’t think there is a clan Qingyang would be willing to trust with her daughter’s life, no matter their reputation. Thus, as she wants her daughter to have this, her own teachings will have to do regardless of how hesitant she is. 

Everything in its own time, she tells herself. I should wait to worry about that when the time comes rather than years beforehand.

“Thank the heavens we still have time,” she says, glancing at where her daughter is curled up on her back. She can’t see her well from their position, but Mianmian’s small, round face is clear and sweet as she leans into her shoulder; it makes Qingyang’s heart tight. “I don’t know where to begin teaching her.”

“I have full confidence that you’ll discover how to go about it,” Shui says. “My Qingyang can do anything, and our Mianmian is so much like you. Just you wait, she will learn everything there is to be learned in the blink of an eye.”

Even as Qingyang’s shoulders shake with silent laughter, she’s careful so that Mianmian will not slip from them. “Is our daughter going to be a cultivation prodigy now?”

“Why can’t she be?” Shui shrugs. “Even if she isn’t, I know she will be a strong and honorable fighter, just like her mother.”

This time, her cheeks warm alongside her smile. “Weren’t you the strong immortal master going to make me swoon? When you say it like this, it sounds like I’m the one who should be charming you,“ she teases.

“Isn’t that what happened?” Shui walks a step in front of her and gently places a hand on her chin. They stop only for a second as he pulls her into a feather-light kiss, then continue on their way; him walking backwards to look at her. “The day we met, I was saved by the strongest and most beautiful cultivator I’ve seen in my entire life, and my heart has been hers ever since.“

“Flatterer,” Qingyang mumbles. She would have stolen another kiss if she could, but she doesn’t want to upset Mianmian by moving too much.

Shui seems to know what’s on her mind. His smile turns teasing and he approaches her again, planting a kiss on her cheek without even coming to a stop.

Their conversation continues flirtatiously as they make their way to her parents house. Although it isn’t far from their own, they’d chosen to take the long way, knowing Mianmian enjoys sleeping during walks and happy to enjoy the afternoon outside together. 

There’s only so much walking they can do, however, and their plans also require them to arrive on time, so eventually they do reach her parents’ home, where not only Qingyang’s mother and father are waiting for them, but also her shishu who’d stopped to visit. By then, Mianmian is ready to wake and greet her grandparents and granduncle, so the six of them have dinner together before she and Shui leave on their hunt. 

Surrounded by her family, watching her daughter pretend to be mature as she promises to be good for her grandparents and granduncle, Qingyang realizes that an evening like this is the last reassurance she needed to calm her heart. 

She leaves her daughter with a smile on her face, eager to see the world, but also to come back.

Her first trip with Shui after the break they took after Mianmian’s birth passes without any issues. The two of them have fun traveling together, joking around with each other as though they were still teenagers. 

While the years they spent not working together have left them rusty, they slowly return to moving in sync throughout the night. It isn’t perfect, there are plenty of moments where they stumble, but they manage. Qingyang has fun rediscovering how to fight alongside her husband; it’s a dance her heart remembers well, but as they’ve both changed, she needs to adjust to the Shui of now.

Their daughter is alright when they come home. While she’s a little clingy, Qingyang’s parents assure her that Mianmian was fine during the night, and so, their joint travels continue.

It isn’t a seamless transition, yet it’s not as difficult as she initially thought it’d be either. So much so that Qingyang discovers unexpected joy in it as she watches her daughter connect with her grandparents and uncles in a new way as she spends a few nights in their homes. 

Thus, one step at a time, Qingyang becomes a rogue cultivator again and Shui returns to being her partner.

There’s a lot that Qingyang hears about Hanguang-jun over the years. It isn’t really a surprise; the man is so beloved that even during his three years of seclusion his name wasn’t forgotten, remaining an example of what a good cultivator should stand for to all. 

With how close his disappearance had been to the siege… Qingyang has her suspicions as to how they might be connected, although there’s nothing she can confirm. However, when he resumes roaming the Jianghu, she’s glad for it. She’d only properly spoken to the man once, but the impression she had of him then lives up to the good things she’d heard about him, and it’s good to know someone honorable like that is out there offering his aid to those who need it.

Which is why she’s happy to run into him when she’s night hunting with Shui, especially considering the circumstances.

She and Shui had been dealing with a corrupted tree spirit that had proven itself to be quite a difficult opponent, in that it’d managed to gather a lot of power from years of consuming people from the nearby town. Hanguang-jun’s timely appearance was a welcome support, allowing them to finish faster and without any serious injuries on either part. 

It had been easy to coordinate with him. Perhaps unsurprisingly so, as Hanguang-jun had fought an uncountable number of battles alongside the most unlikely allies. Afterwards, he surprised Qingyang by remembering her. Although he’d been quick to depart, he’d greeted her and her husband with genuine respect, showing no judgment to Shui for traveling with her despite not being a cultivator himself.

Brief as their meeting is, Qingyang is glad that it happened. With the exception of Liu-shishu and a few of her former shijie, she doesn’t interact with other cultivators all that much anymore; it’s good to run into someone friendly that she admires. 

So it’s no surprise to Qingyang that she finds herself smiling when they run into him for a second time not long after at the town’s market. She’s ready to say hello when Shui pulls her aside and whispers, “Hey, isn’t that one of your perfume pouches?”

Qingyang blinks at him, uncomprehending. How would one of her perfume pouches have ended up anywhere in that market? But when she looks to where he’s been discreetly pointing at, she does recognize her own work… in Hanguang-jun’s hand, being used as a money pouch.

What a curious sight; a quick glance that brings her so many questions.

“It is,” she says, bewildered.

Her husband is all but pouting as he leans more into her side. “Did you give it to him?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “Is this Hanguang-jun a past crush?”

Qingyang frowns, tempted to slap his shoulder in response to the teasing poorly hidden in his curiosity. “He isn’t.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to lie if he is, I won’t be jealous.” Shui takes another look at Hanguang-jun before the man starts walking away from them and adjusts. “Well, I might be a little jealous, but just a little.”

She doesn’t try to hide the way she rolls her eyes at him. “I didn’t have a crush on him!”

“How else would he have come by one of your perfume pouches then?” 

“I’m not sure…” Despite his whining, she can tell he believes her, so she takes her time to think about it. After all, Qingyang is just as curious.

Thinking back she can only think of one time that she’s ever given one of those sachets to a boy, someone who she hasn’t thought of in a while now. It’s been a long few years, yet Qingyang still remembers Wei Wuxian clearly as he was then: a foolish teenage boy with too much charm for his own good, more annoying in how much he flustered her than for his request. 

It hadn’t been long after that meeting that they’d gone on that disastrous mission with Wen Chao, the one in which Wei Wuxian had taken the Wen branding iron in her place. And hadn’t Wei Wuxian stayed trapped in that cave with Hanguang-jun…?

“I think I know how he might have come by it,” Qingyang smiles, thinking back on that time in Jinlintai, to how respectfully Hanguang-jun had spoken of Wei Wuxian not only there, but previously as well. While there had been many rumors spread of that tumultuous relationship, Qingyang couldn’t bring herself to believe that things were so simple.

“Oh?”

“There was a boy I gave one of those sachets to,” she says, smiling teasingly at her husband. “I think he might have given it to Hanguang-jun.”

It’s Shui’s turn to be confused. “Why would he have done that?”

Qingyang holds her husband’s hand and pulls him forward as she says, “Well, it’s a long story. Do you remember a few years ago when the Wen banned night hunting?”

She tells the story as they walk, explaining to Shui perhaps for the first time what had happened back then. She’s told him bits and pieces about it before, of course, Qingyang makes no secret of her past. However, the Sunshot Campaign isn’t a pleasant subject to speak about, so there’s much Qingyang hasn’t said.

This isn’t a story Shui is unfamiliar with, most people know it, and having been a merchant, there’s no way he wouldn’t have heard it told a thousand times when it was at its height. Still, it’s the first time Qingyang has narrated it to him, especially with this particular focus on the experience she had with Qishan Wen. She concludes at the point in which Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji get left behind in the cave. No one knows exactly what happened there, only that they killed the Tulu Xuanwu with what little resources they had on hand, so all she can share past that point are her theories.

“I think they might have used the herbs in the pouch to treat their injuries then. It would’ve been useful, though not quite what I’d intended,” she says. “Maybe it stayed with him in the end? I heard Wei-gongzi wasn’t conscious when he was brought back to his clan.”

“But why would he keep it? Who would want a memento of such a horrible time?” Shui wonders. Then he turns to her with a dramatic gasp. “Do you think Hanguang-jun had a crush on you?”

Qingyang laughs out loud. She can’t help it, the mere idea of it sounds far too ridiculous to her. “I don’t think he even knew who I was!”

“He could have been enamored with your looks,” Shui says, only half teasing. “I know I was. And you did say that he went after you that one time.”

“Stop that, Shui-er.” Qingyang gives him a light shove with her shoulder. “That doesn’t mean he had a crush!”

They continue bickering about it all the way home. It’s all good natured teasing, but it does make Qingyang think. Because Shui has a point, why would someone keep a memento from such a terrible time? 

Did Hanguang-jun want a reminder of that fight to get himself strength through the war? Or is it possible that the one on his mind was not Qingyang but someone else? She dismisses the thought soon after it crosses her mind; fun as the theory is, it also saddens her enough that she hopes it isn’t true.

Coming home to an empty house while Mianmian is sleeping at one of her grandparents’ homes becomes a new normal. Most often, she and Shui are too tired to do anything besides fall in bed together, but there are nights in which they stay up for a while, enjoying these rare pockets of time alone together.

With every morning they pick her up, Mianmian seems more settled into this new routine. Although she still clings to her parents for a few hours after being reunited with them, as if she can’t allow them out of her sight lest they leave without her again, she’s less upset by their absence; better used to being with her extended family for a time. 

It’s a sweeter balance than Qingyang could have imagined she’d get between these conflicting aspects of her life. So much so that, in those quiet moments she shares with Shui, she looks at what they’re building, at the sweet, brave girl her daughter becomes more and more with each day, and at the life they’re leading alongside her, and she is proud.

When Qingyang hears Mianmian scream, she rushes toward the sound with her heart ready to beat out of her chest.

Really what was her daughter thinking running off on her own during a night hunt? There shouldn’t have been anything dangerous nearby, however, Mianmian is only ten, and she doesn’t have much experience yet; she can’t properly defend herself. 

Qingyang has lost count of how many times she and Shui have explained to her that she should be careful even when she can’t see anything immediately dangerous around her, so for her to get separated from them now… Honestly, for all that she loves that she can teach her daughter to cultivate, it’s more stressful than she could ever have anticipated. 

She sighs in relief when she finds Mianmian not too far ahead of them, looking frightened, but safe. Even so, Qingyang and Shui run to Mianmian, kneeling in front of their daughter to check her over. “Mianmian, are you alright? How could you run around somewhere like this? A-Niang was scared to death!”

Besides her, Shui says, “Didn’t we tell you not to run around on night-hunts? How could you still rush out all on your own? What should your mom and I do if you were eaten by a ghost?!”

Mianmian stays eerily silent as Qingyang looks for injuries, not uttering a word in her own defense even as Shui scolds her. Noticing this, his tone softens with concern. “… Mianmian? What’s wrong?” When she doesn’t reply, he turns to Qingyang. “Why is she like this? Qingyang, do you think something happened? Did she see something that shouldn’t be seen up there?”

It is possible, she thinks. Depending on the state of the ghosts haunting that graveyard, Mianmian might have seen something too gruesome for her, which would have been a fright to such a young girl. She’s about to tell her husband as much when footsteps startle them both. 

Without hesitating, Qingyang unsheathes her sword and stands in front of her family, wondering if there was something more haunting this place after all. “Who is it?!” she yells.

“No matter who I am, I’m a person, not something else,” a man says.

She’s ready to argue with him; her mind running in circles questioning just what this man could have done to startle her daughter so much. It’s because she sees the person standing behind him that she stops herself. 

“Hanguang-jun?” she asks. Without his forehead ribbon, the white clad man isn’t as recognizable, so it took her a moment to place him. Then she turns her eyes back to the other man, knowing that right now, despite his different appearance, he could only be one person. “Then you’re- you’re…”

Wei Wuxian stares at her curiously as he tries to place her. Qignyang can see the moment she’s recognized. “You’re Mianmian?” he asks.

“Why are you calling my daughter’s name?” Shui retorts. 

While Qingyang takes that question as confirmation that this is indeed Wei Wuxian, after ten years of that name belonging to their daughter, Shui doesn’t realize that question wasn’t meant for her.

Before the misunderstanding can continue, Hanguang-jun intervenes, inclining his head in greeting. “Luo-guniang.”

Brushing her hair behind her ear, Qingyang greets him in kind. “Hanguang-jun,” she says, then she looks to Wei Wuxian. “Wei-gongzi.”

“Luo-guniang,” Wei Wuxian grins at her, and just like when they were younger, his smile is filled with equal parts charm and mischief. ”Oh, now I know what your name is.”

Recalling that childish incident brings a shy smile to her face, yet there’s a part of her that’s also glad that this person is able to share them with her again. She pulls Shui closer to her, wanting to show him that there’s no reason to be so guarded from these two. “This is my husband,” she introduces. 

Shui does relax, noticing that Hanguang-jun and Wei Wuxian hold no malicious intent, and the four of them are able to start a conversation. With her husband still cautious and Hanguang-jun’s taciturn nature, Qingyang and Wei Wuxian are the ones who talk the most. 

It feels surprisingly natural, like catching up to an old distant acquaintance, which, while technically true, is unexpected considering who she is talking to.

The infamous Yiling Laozu turns out to be a good conversation partner. Qingyang’s teenage annoyance with him stays in her past, and she finds herself enjoying her interaction with this more mature Wei Wuxian. Her admiration for both him and Hanguang-jun rises when they look at her husband with respect after they discover Shui used to be a merchant but left the business to night hunt by her side.

Although she’d guessed there wouldn’t be much for them to do, considering Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-jun had arrived at the graveyard first, it’s an unpleasant surprise to learn that the villagers had been the ones to rob the graves and enrage the dead. How shameless of them!

Saddened as she is by Wei Wuxian’s undeservedly bad reputation, she’s glad to see him taking it in good humor and using it to help others. Knowing he’d scared the villagers a little so that they wouldn’t disrespect the graveyard again and ensured that other cultivators wouldn’t be fooled into helping them puts her at ease.

“So that was the case,” Qingyang smiles. ”When I saw how scared Mianmian was I thought she ran into a spirit. Please don’t mind if there was any discourteousness on her part.”

Considering Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-jun’s expressions, there’s a story there. Qingyang wants to ask, but they’re not close enough for that. I’ll just have to ask Mianmian what it was that she saw later.

“Of course not, of course not,” Wei Wuxian says. “Please also excuse us for scaring Xiao-Mianmian.”

Mianmian remained shy throughout the conversation, clinging to her father’s side. It’s cute, Qingyang would have pinched her cheeks if it wouldn’t have made her daughter more embarrassed, especially as Shui picks her up and sits her in his arms. 

Hanguang-jun and Wei Wuxian seem just as endeared by her glares. “Mianmian looks a lot like you when you were young, Luo-guniang,” Wei Wuxian says.

It’s an unexpected compliment that Qingyang can’t help but smile at, though she doubts its sincerity. While Hanguang-jun says nothing out loud, the glance he sends Wei Wuxian’s way says everything. “Wei-gongzi, don’t you feel any guilt saying that?” she teases. “Do you even remember what I looked like when I was young?”

“Of course I do! You really don’t look all that different now,” Wei Wuxian grins, so confident she almost believes him. “How old is Mianmian? I should give her some money to ward off evil spirits.”

Shui and Qingyang are quick to decline, but Wei Wuxian won’t have it. He laughs and, to her and her husband’s bafflement, beckons Hanguang-jun to give him the money before giving it to Mianmian. 

Seeing that there’s no point in declining it, Qingyang nudges her daughter to accept the gift. “Mianmian, you should thank Hanguang-jun and Wei-gongzi.”

However, to her amusement, Mianmian surprises them all by saying, “Thank you, Hanguang-jun,” while avoiding looking Wei Wuxian’s way. 

The ignored man in question puffs out his cheeks, mimicking the pout on Mianmian’s face. “Mianmian, wasn’t I the one who gave them to you? Why didn’t you thank me?”

Mianmian stays silent, only offering him a furious glare. Qingyang despairs a little at her daughter’s bad manners; it’s a good thing that Wei Wuxian seems more amused than offended, as no matter how much he teases or what her parents say, Mianmian doesn’t relent. 

Their conversation moves on, Qingyang and Shui apologize for her and accept some more well meant teasing from Wei Wuxian, and for all that Hanguang-jun doesn’t say much, he also makes clear that he doesn’t mind either. 

Unexpected as it was, their encounter is a pleasant one till the end. When the time for them to part ways comes, Qingyang finds herself hoping their paths will cross again in the future.

She waits until Hanguang-jun and Wei Wuxian’s silhouettes disappear in the distance before turning to her daughter. “Mianmian, you were so impolite!” she scolds. “That was someone who saved your mother’s life, you should be more considerate.”

“Really?” Shui’s shock is visible as he turns to her. “Mianmian, did you hear her? Look at how impolite you were!”

Qingyang can’t blame him for not having been able to place the people they’ve met with the ones in a story she’s told him years ago. She’s sure that he will remember when she brings up the perfume pouch, and it will be good to share that tale with her daughter as well. But first, they need to discover why Mianmian acted so coldly.

“I… I don’t like him,” Mianmian mumbles.

“If you really didn’t like him, you would’ve thrown away the money he gave to you a long time ago,” Qingyang says, disbelief clear in her voice.

In an effort to run from being scolded, Mianmian buries her face against her father’s chest, crying out, “He did bad things!”

Qingyang doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry at her daughter’s display. Did she hear anything bad about Wei Wuxian? It’s not impossible, but how would she have connected the man to the rumors so quickly?

“What bad things did he do?” Qingyang prods, determined to discover just what made her daughter think this way. 

When Mianmian refuses to speak, Shui trades a look with her as if to say ‘let’s give her a break’, before he muses, “I’ve met Hanguang-jun before, but what about this Wei-gongzi? You said he saved your life, what kind of person is he?”

“Do you remember when we talked about that perfume pouch you saw with Hanguang-jun?” 

Shui’s smile turns teasing as he passes Mianmian to her. “How could I forget?”

Their daughter looks between them, a gleam of interest in her eyes, so Qingyang settles for telling a somewhat censored version of that story. Mianmian is still too young to truly understand completely what happened back then, something as gruesome as the Sunshot Campaign doesn’t seem real to her yet. But as any other child would be, she is fascinated by these stories, and as Qingyang weaves her tale, she grows impressed by Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-jun’s actions.

Her wariness doesn’t entirely disappear, however.

Still, Qingyang prods. “Do you understand now? Wei-gongzi is a good person, he saved A-Niang and a lot of other people too. Why did you say he was a bad man?”

Very softly, with her face hidden in Qingyang’s shoulders, Mianmian says, “Hanguang-jun tied him up; only bad men get their hands tied up.”

She doesn’t know just what she thought her daughter might have seen, but that is… not what Qingyang had been expecting. 

“He tied him up?” Shui asks, raising an eyebrow. Qingyang takes comfort in that at least he’s clearly just as confused as she is.

Mianmian nods. “Hanguang-jun took off his forehead ribbon and tied his hands together, then he… he attacked him!”

Thinking back on the friendly pair they’d been speaking with just two ke ago, she can’t believe that to be anything but a misunderstanding. “Attacked how?”

“He bit his neck…” Mianmian mumbles, visibly confused even as she explains what she saw.

As the realization of just what her daughter walked in on hits her, Qingyang’s shoulders shake with silent laughter. She shares a pointed look with Shui, trying to express what she can’t currently do with words. It seems like our Mianmian almost witnessed something that she really shouldn’t have…  

“I… I don’t think Hanguang-jun was doing that because he thinks Wei-gongzi is a bad man,” she says, struggling not to laugh.

That only serves to make Mianmian more confused. “Why then?”

Qingyang is grateful when Shui steps in, as she had no idea how to explain what her daughter saw. “They were… playing pretend,” he says.

“I thought grown ups didn’t do that.” Mianmian’s brows furrow in confusion.

Shui smiles helplessly. “Sometimes they do, baobei.” 

Shaking her head, Qingyang sighs to herself, feeling just as helpless. She’d never imagined that she would have to find a way to explain such things to her daughter, and because of Hanguang-jun and Wei Wuxian of all people! 

It’s definitely not the way she thought her night would go, but she’s glad that this is how it turned out to be.

That unexpected encounter with Wei Wuxian makes Qingyang reflective. 

Back when she’d just left her clan, her faith in the cultivation world, her faith in the cultivation world had been greatly shaken; when Wei Wuxian died, her faith was completely shattered. But with the man’s return and the news of his and Hanguang-jun’s travels to do good throughout the Jianghu, she feels that some of the burden she’d been carrying has been lightened.

It isn’t just those two, of course. Nothing has given her more hope than seeing her daughter learn and grow into a kind, thoughtful young lady. Mianmian is her pride and joy, Qingyang is certain that she will be a positive influence on those she encounters when she’s ready to forge her own path.

And she’s not the only one. Qingyang meets with other young cultivators in her travels – albeit it’s mostly the ones who trail after Hanguang-jun and Wei Wuxian – and they are sweet, promising cultivators, even the Jin boy, which is a pleasant surprise.

It’s not the answer to all of the Jianghu’s issues, but these youths don't have to be. They are, however, a breath of fresh air to someone who remembers all too well the tendencies her peers have to find fault in those who are good and congratulate those who attain glory in spite of how they achieved it.

Qingyang is only a small part of that change, she knows; but when she looks back at this life she’s built, she can face the person she was all those years ago when she left her clan and say with conviction that she has no regrets.