Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sizhui dreams.

He dreams of screaming, stomping, clanking. A world steeped in red flames and black smoke, streaks of white and pleading cries. Terrified wailing. Dreams of raw paralysing terror that courses through him and seals his wails away. A burning that shrieks from the skies and resonates deep inside his bones. Dreams of a warm metallic hint in the air so thick and pungent he chokes himself awake with a hurl.

He throws himself over the side of the bed and retches over and over again, gaging on painful aborted breathes in-between, but the metallic taste remains in his mouth, in his nose, glued to his skin. It’s in his lungs and he wants to spit it out but he can’t, it grows denser, hotter. Like a hot boulder covered in acid is rolling around in his chest. Tears are wetting his cheeks, thick and ugly they mix with his spit up on the floor.

Someone is holding his hair back, a cool hand gently supporting his forehead. Sweet, comforting words spoken in his ear by a voice that tries to remain steady but breaks with the shrill of worry and confusion. Sizhui can almost imagine the look on Jingyi’s face. Kind Jingyi, who had been there for him since they were five years old. Jingyi with his big smile and boisterous persona who gave Sizhui his confidence and got to hear him speak for the first time in three years.

The boulder clogging up his throat feels like it’s growing… hotter and bigger… Sizhui can’t breathe. It burns like acid in his muscles, something that twists and coils in his blood. The aftershock of that burning shriek vibrating from his bones as if trying to release its grip. Sizhui hacks and spits and Jingyi screams and the world is lighter for a moment before Sizhui slips off the bed, his head scrape against the floorboards and everything fades to black.

Sometime later Sizhui wakes up on the cool, solid floor. Trembling like his muscles are trying to shake off his cold sticky skin. He blinks and tries to comprehend the sight of his own fingers. Slowly opening and closing his hand several times. They’re covered in something black that smears like ink.

He feels hot and cold and wet and in pain.

Something smells burnt.

His throat hurts, it stings and there’s something tacky in the back of it. Sizhui tries to swallow around the painful lump but all good it does is causing him to shiver and close his eyes as that sticky, tacky gloop in the back of his throat refuses to yield.

There’re muffled voices fleeting in from outside, he can’t quite hear exactly what words are exchanged or what they’re conversing about but one is definitely Jingyi and the other probably belongs to another disciple asking if they should go get an adult. He hears the matron’s name and Hanguang-Jun mentioned by the other voice. The shadow of Jingyi’s back seems to be blocking the sliding door as he declines in earnest, assuring the other disciple he is capable of handling the situation on his own for now and should that change he will call for assistance.

Jingyi’s voice carries that practised authority The Grandmaster has drilled into him, secretly preparing him for a impromptu leadership role, it is firm, proper and confident. Jingyi had always been more capable than he let on. When push came to shove he was always the one to step up and take charge, in his own buoyant way.

As Sizhui pulls himself up to sit, numbly securing his tangled nightrobe, he feels a stitch of pride for how far Jingyi has come. How much he has matured into his role over the last couple of weeks.

It’s been quite a ride for all of them.

Sizhui knows it’s been a steep learning curve for him. If Zewu-Jun failed to sire children Jingyi was next in line to be Sect Leader, but not for years to come and apparently the elders had neglected to inform Jingyi of this.

Zewu-Jun’s sudden boost of self-isolation has forced Jingyi to step up on the main stage as Acting Sect Leader and it’s a lot to deal with for a teenage boy. Now, because of Jingyi’s age and the fact that Zewu-Jun is still the legitimate Sect leader the actual reach of Jingyi’s authority is limited to signing papers but that had not stopped him from growing into a role he took very seriously, albite a bit reluctantly.

Jingyi is quite perceptive and head-strong. He’s not as un-Lan as people think, just because he’s a little loud and a little impulsive, but he’s a sixteen-year-old, of course he’s going to be a little brash. Jingyi knows the Cloud Recess rules, believes in the teachings without doubt even if he considers some of the later additions a bit unnecessary, but he’s not the only one in that regard. He’s actually more similar to great uncle Qiren than either of them likes to admit.

Sizhui shivers as a gust of cool night air blows into the room when the door slides open and close as Jingyi returns, carrying with him a tray with a bowl of water and cloth. The pinched expression on his face lights a bit when he sees Sizhui sitting, awake, on the floor. He tries a simple nod in greeting but it’s something so un-Jingyi-like Sizhui just ends up staring blankly at him.

Jingyi, apparently, translates that look to mean his not all there yet. He tucks his knees underneath himself as he sits down in front of Sizhui and sets the tray on the floor, picking up the little white towel and wetting the tip. “Here, let me.” He gingerly takes Sizhui’s face in one hand and starts gently patting the damp cloth to his face “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Cleaned up?”

“You’re really dirty right now.” Jingyi grins, but it’s that tight one that doesn’t quite reach the eyes and comes off as artificial. Sizhui has seen it before, it’s the expression Jingyi puts on when he's not really merry but still wants to ease the situation.

“Oh”, Sizhui realises “vomit?”

Jingyi frowns and his eyes cloud over as if it’s a matter he does not wish to discuss but can’t avoid. “No, …soot.”

It's like being dunked in cold water (which is a combination of the two things Sizhui hates; Cold and Water). Sizhui stares down at his fingers like they’re a sudden new-found part of him, the blackness on them isn’t ink or foul blood it’s “…S-s-soot?” he stutters softly around the thickness in his throat.

Jingyi sighs and brings the cloth away from Sizhui’s face to rinse it out before moving on to wiping off each of his soot covered hands. Effectually removing the distressing sight. “You kinda vomited fire and then face planted in it.” Jingyi isn’t naturally scarce with words, nor is he refined. “Made quite a mess.”

Sizhui remembers their room at that moment and looks up. Trying to take it all in is a bit overwhelming to his sluggish brain but the smell is the worst of it. Like burnt acid over wet kindling. It kinda reminds him of the time when disciple Yan Long accidentally set disciple Wong Bei’s hair on fire during the lantern festival a few years back. It had rained that year and Wong Bei’s long thick hair had been surprisingly sturdy, burning for quite some time before anyone noticed. The smell lingered though, wherever Wong Bei went the horrid smell of burned wet hair followed.

“I should clean up in here.” He starts, a little shaken.

Jingyi huffs dismissively. “You will do no such thing! I’ll take care of it. You get some rest. Take my bed,” He waves his hand over to his side of the room, indicating for Sizhui to get over there. “I’ll clean up yours. Do not argue.”

Sizhui turns, stares at the rumpled sheets that make up Jingyi’s bed and releases a soft sigh he hadn’t known he’d been holding. Sleep would be a welcomed but unlikely prospect. He’s tired but pretty sure sleep isn’t something attainable right now. His throat strings, his head throbs dully and there’s a burning sensation behind his eyes, as if something is still pressing for a way out. A spark, like a will-o-the-wisp twirling around his core, burning like a solar flare “Maybe I should go to the infirmary?”

He doesn’t want to.

What’s he supposed to say?

That he vomited fire?

That’s not going to go down well.

Hanguang-Jun will be informed and most likely great uncle Qiren too. He might get confined to the Mingshi, suspected of Qi-deviation.

“If you’re sick, you’re supposed to but I’m not really sure they’re equipped to deal with fire vomit. I mean, I’ve heard of projectile vomiting, but you went full spit fire.” Jingyi says while wiping at the soot stains on the frame of Sizhui’s bed. “But..,” he searches for the right way to say something by busying himself with rinsing the towel in the now murky water and clutches it tight “Maybe we should tell Hanguang-Jun?” He doesn’t sound like he thinks it’s an entirely good idea.

Honestly, Sizhui thinks it might be the worst one so far. Fire cultivation is frowned upon by the clans, not so much as demonic cultivation but still regarded with trepidation. Within the Gusu-Lan sect fire cultivation isn’t just un-heard of, since Lan’s are not fire inclined, but also expressively forbidden. From a young age Sizhui had spent so much time restraining himself from showing how much the fire spoke to him because to cultivate with fire within the grounds of Cloud Recess is punishable by disciplinary whipping for adults and lashes with the leather for anyone underage. Sizhui shakes his head, trying to dispel those thoughts. He’s pretty sure it’s all a scare tactic to keep people in line and even if it isn’t his father would never allow it, and Hanguang-Jun has the final say in these sorts of matters, he would never take the leather to Sizhui. He shakes his head so rapidly it causes little black sparks to fire off in the periphery of his vision and he wobbles. Pain flares momentarily behind his eyes, like a knife thrust into his skull and he decides to lay down before he topples over. The welcoming coolness of Jingyi’s pillow envelops his throbbing head and laying down soothes the nausea from his throat.

“Perhaps we could open a window.” Sizhui suggests. With his eyes closed his other senses kick into high-gear and truly they could do with some fresh air, the smell inside their room really is rancid.

He can hear how Jingyi momentarily ceases scrubbing at his words. “No.” it comes out harsher than he’d probably intended. Sizhui opens his eyes and watches as Jingyi moves from wiping the frame to the floor “Not until I’ve cleaned up all the soot. You go to sleep. I’ll burn some incense sticks and open a window once I’m done here.” 

Sizhui nods, closing his eyes he buries his face in the cool pillow -seriously how can Jingyi’s pillow remain so cool all the time?- and breathes in deeply. Maybe he falls asleep, he’s not sure…

OOXXXOO

Sizhui falls back asleep quickly and quietly, much to Jingyi’s liking. He doesn’t need him awake for this. It’s much easier to deal with everything if Sizhui isn’t conscious and disrupting him. He scrubs hard at one of the charred marks on the floor and swears on his tongue. It won’t come off this time. Soot can be cleaned up, burn scars tend to pose more of a challenge.

Lan Jingyi is having what one might consider a trying time, overall. He’s been pushed into a seat he wasn’t prepared for and it all happened a little too quick for his liking.

Jingyi never thought he would be Sect Leader. Acting or otherwise.

He knew it was a possibility. But he always thought he was like fourth in line, or something like that. First was Zewu-Jun, then Hanguang-Jun, then Sizhui, then Jingyi himself. That’s what he had always thought but circumstances can change in the blink of an eye apparently.

Then the day came when he stood there facing the sect with Grandmaster Qiren. Zewu-Jun having gone into seclusion, Hanguang-Jun off somewhere chasing Wei Wuxian’s ass, and Sizhui having eloped with the Gods damned Ghost General for reasons yet unknown. He had overheard the elders speaking of Sizhui having chosen the crooked path. At the time Jingyi hadn’t known what to think of all that. Sizhui had been acting weird ever since that time in the burial mounds. He must have his reasons for going on his merry way with a fierce corpse. Jingyi would ask later, once Sizhui returned.

Still, Jingyi didn’t think he’d ever be Sect Leader. Not even as Qiren began his speech before the sect. He’d stood there beside him, back straight and shoulders squared, as was expected of a blood Lan. He thought he was there as moral support, a representative of the Lan Clan before the sect. To show they still stood strong.

And then Qiren announced that Jingyi was now Acting Sect leader in Zewu-Jun absence. And Lan Jingyi did not see that coming.

He did keep it together for the announcement. Barely. By the grace of his favourable immortal.

Qiren later told him he had found him in the meditation garden, three hours later, babbling to a tree. Declaring his panic to the universe.

Jingyi wants nothing more than to do good by the sect. Uphold the ideals of Lan An and forward the sect in a way that’ll benefit them all. However, he knows his true power, as it stands, is null. He’s nothing but a name on a paper, the real power still lies divided between Qiren and Hanguang-jun.

When Sizhui returned to Cloud Recess Jingyi hadn’t asked. Instead, he’d hugged him close for a little too long, then loudly proclaimed he had lost weight and sent the Ghost General a half-serious disapproving glare. Which the corpse responded to with a bashful tilt of his head.

Jingyi rinses out the towel and shakes it drier. His wrists burn and fingers ache from trying to wipe up scorch marks with enough force to dent the floorboards. Casting a glance around the room he heaves a resigned sigh and crawls over to the window to throw the shutters open. For a second he contemplates throwing the bowl out along with the dirty water, just for some sort of cathartic release but No, he better not.

OOXXXOO

When Jingyi is sluggishly pulled awake, by the forces of the immortal that hates him -or something like that- he finds himself resting in the windowsill. Head against the frame and one arm, still clutching the soiled towel, hanging out in the chilly night air. He falls back on his knees with a pained groan and a wince. The sleeping position hurt his back and the hard edges of the windowsill cut into his arm and cheek, leaving dented red marks where his weight pressed the skin against the wood.

The towel in his hand is damp and cold so he presses it against his cheek, most of the soot has been rinsed out -by his own hands- so he knows it won’t stain his skin. Not that he cares. It feels good. Cools the ache in cheek and helps wake him up a bit more. Jingyi isn’t sure how long he’s been asleep but a glance at the sky through the open window tells him it can’t have been more than an hour or so.

The room smells better, everything’s been wiped down and the soot water thrown out, Jingyi rubs his face, he could light an incense stick to be on the safe side but it might not be necessary. He’s dirt tired and all he wants is to crawl across the room to his bed and snuggle down alongside Sizhui and comfortably fall asleep but…

His bed is empty.

Sizhui is not in it.

He’s not in his own either.

Jingyi experiences what he can only describe as a temporary moment of full-body-and-brain-freeze. All tiredness and thoughts of sleep gone as he frantically searches the room. Sizhui’s robes are still there, except for the one nightrobe he’d been wearing to bed. His shoes are sitting neatly by the door right next to Jingyi’s own.

The open door.

Jingyi bites off the swear on his tongue.

Even if he’d only gone to the bathroom or gone looking for a cup of water, Sizhui wouldn't leave their room without his shoes and an outer robe on, it was improper. Neither would he leave their door open in the middle of the night, it was against the rules since it cut off the protective wards surrounding their room and left them exposed and at risk. Ever since what happened to Jin Guangyao’s son the great clans had become a bit overprotective of their young. Jingyi and Sizhui had gotten the brunt of it from the Lan’s, much to Jingyi’s chagrin. Sizhui was used to Hanguang-Jun’s cautious hand so he had taken it all in a stride, seemingly unbothered by the increase of things he was not allowed to do because he could get hurt. There had always been protective charms around their dorm room but the amount had increased after Zewu-Jun was informed of the murder of little Jin Song. However, leaving the door open made all of them ineffective.

Sizhui would never do it. He would never risk Jingyi’s safety… or his own.

Jingyi is on his feet and throwing on an outer robe in no time, stuffing an extra under his arm. He steps into his shoes with such urgency he doesn’t even notice he gets them on the wrong foot and takes off out the door.

He doesn’t sprint down the hallway, just walks very, very briskly (TM). He’ll start with the communal bathroom first, just to make sure. He’s pretty sure Sizhui won't be there -as main family Jingyi and Sizhui have their own private bathroom, there’s no reason for them to use the public one- but it’s on the way and it doesn’t hurt to check.

Something smells like burnt paper.

Jingyi skids to a halt on stumbling feet, something in the air does indeed smell burnt. Looking around for a source he sees the scorched remains of the tapestry that used to hang on the hallway wall. A poetic piece by an old Master. Reduced to a tiny pile of ashes. It was a copy and a pretty shitty piece of poetry by an old man who thought himself better than he actually was but Jingyi had always liked it because it was kinda of a potty joke.

He’ll clean that up later, finding Sizhui takes priority.

From the old spot where the tapestry used to hang, a strange, seared trail leaps on along the hallway, as if someone dragged a candle along the wall as they walked by. Jingyi swipes his finger across it and it comes away covered in more soot. He swears under his breath and picks up his speed. The need to find Sizhui, before someone else does, consumes him. A worry and concern that eats at his gut like a nasty feral ghoul chews its kill.

That is not a pretty visual.

The joint bathroom is the only thing connecting the Lan sect disciple’s dorm to the guest disciples’ and Jingyi manages to overshoot the bathroom door and has to jump back three steps.

As Jingyi sees it he now has two options:

One: he knocks. It would be the proper thing to do, especially at this hour.

Two: He throws the door open and forces his way in. Right now he feels like he has the right to because Jingyi is having a, by all means and definitions, very trying night. He ought to work on that patience. So, rising his eyes to the ceiling he counts, very slowly, to ten -Just like Zewu-Jun had told him to do- Then goes for the undignified option number three and checks both directions before leaning in and putting his ear to the door.

Mentally he smacks himself for sinking to the level of such shameful behaviour as listening in at the bathroom door. But there's someone inside and from the sound of it they're having a very bad time.

Jingyi knocks. He's not a complete savage.

“What!?” A haggard voice croaks, it doesn’t sound anything like Sizhui.

Jingyi summons an ounce of his authoritative Lan tone best he can at this hour with his stomach in worried knots for the safety of his best friend. "Who is in here?" he demands to know.

“I Am Mu Dong, disciple of the Nie Clan, arrived this afternoon.” the voice responds breathlessly “Who are you?”

“Lan Jingyi.”

There’s the sound of ruckus inside, as if Mu Dong dropped or tripped over something. “Acting sect leader,” He recognises with a higher pitch and more formal words “Forgive this one, this one is not feeling well.”

“That’s alright, I can tell.” Jingyi sweats. “Food poisoning?”

“Yeah, something I ate in town before arriving here.”

‘Poor guy’ Jingyi thinks. Being sick in a new place, surrounded by people he doesn’t know very well. He probably doesn’t even know the way to the infirmary. "You know,” He calls through the door “I know someone who can help with your problem but I need you to help me out first."

A few seconds of silence and then the door is wrenched open and Mu Dong’s pale, puffy tear streaked face appears "What?" He looks drenched, like a corpse dragged out of a river. His robes are rumpled and hanging off his shoulders, his face has taken on all kinds of colours and wet tresses of hair stick to his sweaty forehead.

Jingyi feels for the poor guy but his priority is to find Sizhui "Have you noticed anything strange tonight."

"Like what?" Mu Dong grumbles.

Jingyi shrugs. "Has anyone passed by here recently? Within the last hour or so?”

Mu Dong leans against the door for support, grabbing the frame with both fleshy hands. "Now that you mention it, I thought I heard someone pass by a little while ago. A girl I think, such light footsteps. Which is strange, the girls’ dorm is on the other side." He frowns "you think someone snuck their girl in for some fun? That's against the rules, right? Maybe her lover did wrong by her." he continues while looking up at the ceiling.

“Why do you say that?” Jingyi asks, now he is invested in this lewd story, damn it!

Mu Dong shrugs and starts to turn a little green. “As she passed by I thought I smelled something funny, like when you blow out a candlewick.” He swallows thickly and a fresh line of sweat begins to form on his brow. “I gotta–!” He slams the door in Jingyi’s face and the next second Jingyi hears him being violently sick.

Jingyi takes a step back “You know what,” He calls through the door again “I’m gonna go see if I can find my friend who can help you. Hang in there.” He doesn’t stick around for an answer.

He picks up the seared trail in the wall again and it continues all the way until he reaches the door leading outside. Jingyi swears again. This door too has been left open. He steps out into the night and involuntary shivers, the spring air is crisp and chilly. Jingyi never really had a problem with cold, not in the same way Sizhui does, but he still finds it freezing tonight. He scans the grounds trying to figure out which way to go and sees the burnt up remains of an empty water barrel.

That way and beyond it is.

The sound of crunching gravel under his shoes is unbearable in the silent night. Every step louder than the one before, no matter how light he tries to make his steps. He swears the path doesn’t make as much noise in daytime! Come to think of it, the light steps Mu Dong heard earlier were most likely Sizhui without shoes on.

Jingyi has never been more appreciative of the Lan sect’s curfew than in this very moment right now. The paths and gardens lay empty as everyone in Cloud Recess sleeps, or at least remains indoors, mostly. There are the guards to consider but they tend to stay close to the main gates and the gate leading to the Inner Walls. He should be fine… they should be fine.

Jingyi mentally smacks himself again, is he Acting Sect Leader or what!? Stupid! If anyone finds him out and about at this hour he can just pull rank. Not that he has any actual power or sway, he’s got the authority of an icicle in spring -he comes across a burning bush and quickly puts the flames out- Jingyi’s role is no more than a signature on a paper. The real power still lies with the old man, Hanguang-Jun and Zewu-Jun. But anyone he might encounter in the night doesn’t know he’s just a figurehead.

He continues on the path, following the signs of fire and the increasing number of burned shrubs tells him he’s on the right track to find Sizhui. He hates this. Hates not knowing what’s going on with his best friend, his number one person, his confidant, hates not knowing what to do or how to help. It's not the first time Sizhui has had a bout of pyromania in his sleep, he’d always had episodes for as long as Jingyi can remember. It usually only happens when he’s asleep or really sick -one time Sizhui sneezed and Jingyi lost his eyebrows, another time Sizhui coughed and all of Jingyi’s class notes went up in flames-. Recently it’s gotten worse and worse. What used to be a rare occurrence has become the norm over the last few weeks. Ever since Sizhui got his memories back and returned from his trip with Wen Ning.

Jingyi is no fool, he is no snitch either. He knows Sizhui is a Wen and not a Lan. First off, he bears no physical resemblance to Hanguang-Jun, Zewu-Jun, the old man or Jingyi himself. Even if Sizhui is strong he does not have the arm-strength of the Lan’s and he’s never been able to use the silencing spell, both of which are blood bound abilities.

He does look a lot like the Ghost General however, they share the same features, the same aura, mannerisms, characteristics and facial expressions -it’s cute seeing them next to each other basically mimicking each other’s body language and being so alike-. The resemblance is undeniable to anyone who’s met them both. They’re definitely related.

Jingyi won’t talk beside the mouth, he hasn’t said anything to anyone about Sizhui being a Wen, he hasn’t even asked to have his suspicions confirmed by the adults, he doesn’t need to have it spelled out. He knows Sizhui didn’t just elope with the Ghost General, like some of their peers had suggested when the two first disappeared together after the events in that temple.

He had to shoot down so many rumours in the weeks following that: Sizhui having a sordid love affair with the Ghost General, Sizhui having abandoned the righteous path. Sizhui having become a demonic cultivator. It had been a daily thorn in his side but for his closest person Jingyi is more than capable of knocking in a few thick faces.

Jingyi is no fool, he’s no snitch either. He would never tell anyone what’s been going on unless he has Sizhui’s outspoken approval to do so. Ever since he returned from his trip with Wen Ning Sizhui has been different. Distant, withdrawn and quieter than ever before. He strays off during the days, often missing classes or showing up late. Jingyi has been asked to go look for him more than once. Usually, he finds him reading books he tries to hide whenever anyone comes close. It took Jingyi all of three days to figure out they were taken from the library in the Wen palace, most of them were on healing, medical plants, herbs, acupuncture, healing arrays and talisman theory. Sizhui seems fascinated by all of it. He had even asked Hanguang-Jun for space to establish his own herbal garden.

Jingyi doesn’t care about some books! Sizhui can read whatever he wants. If he wants to know more about the Wen’s, then that’s his right. Jingyi is no fool, he understands that what they’d been told about the Wen’s comes from one perspective and that perspective may have been distorted, or not been the full story. What Sizhui remembers of his people may be very different from what they had been taught… and that thought hurts.

Sizhui must be hurting.

If the nightmares he’s been having ever since the return are anything to go by. They have been enough to give Jingyi himself nightmares..., about Sizhui having nightmares.

Jingyi makes his way out of the dorm yard after having followed the seared trail almost a full way around and continues on the path ahead, finding more fire damaged bushes along the way. A burnt-out wooden bench greets him next and Jingyi comes to a sudden horrible realisation.

This path he’s on leads to the library!

The thought sends a frosty chill down his spine, like an icy drop that causes his organs to freeze and his breath to catch thickly in his throat.

Not the library!

He breaks into a run. Sprinting past still smouldering shrubs and trees, there’s no time to waste. He needs to stop Sizhui before he does irreversible damage to priceless, irreplaceable scripts!

By the time he reaches the library he’s out of breath. Travelling on sword all the time has apparently put him out of shape. Either that or he’s getting old. He used to be able to run all the way from the dorms to the library on a single breath without breaking a sweat. ‘Running is forbidden in Cloud Recess’ is a stupid rule. And a bit arbitrary because it is actually allowed on occasion.

He frantically scans the width of the building and very nearly trips when he sees smoke rising from one of the rooms. Then almost shouts his praises to universe when he realises which room it is.

The archives.

There’s nothing of great importance in there. Only old reports from Nighthunts, Cloud Recess daily activities, logbooks over supplies and materials, requisitions and the record of punishments.

No valuable documents, notes or scriptures.

Nothing they aren't better without. Seriously, why keep supply logs that are older than Qiren? Not that Jingyi will ever voice that opinion out loud to anyone he can't trust to agree or keep a secret.

He runs again, practically flies down the walkway decking to the archive room and stumbles through the open door like Little Apple after an… apple.

Sizhui is right there. Standing treacherously in the far end of the room by one of the many, packed shelves. He isn't burning everything at once but rather going about it methodically. Picking out a document or a writing one at the time and burning them. It's a slow but thorough process.

But he’s made it through a shelf and a half already.

Jingyi doesn’t stop to reflect on how to go about this. He acts and throws himself across the room grabbing Sizhui’s sleeves and yanks him back away from the shelves. Apparently with a lot more force than necessary, for Sizhui puts up no resistance, resulting in the two awkwardly plummeting backwards out of the room in a flurry of flailing limbs and rustling clothes. Jingyi yelps as his feet lose steady ground coming off the decking and he trips on air, falling backwards, pulling the still silent Sizhui along out onto the grass.

Jingyi takes a few quick steps, tippy-toes to find ground to stay on his feet. He pirouettes causing Sizhui to spin around with him like a strange sort of spindle. They twirl around each other in this clumsy unbalanced dance outside the smouldering library for several seconds before losing to gravity and momentum, landing in a heap among some budding snowdrops.

Jingyi remains lying face down in the snowdrops for the amount of time it takes him to count to ten again. Then pulls himself up with a longsuffering tired groan -what immortal did he piss off to deserve this night?- and spits out a blade of grass.

Sizhui sits on his knees in the dewy grass where he’d fallen less than a minute ago. He does not move a muscle. The look in his eyes makes an involuntary shiver pass over Jingyi. Sizhui looks out into the world with glazed over gaze. His vacant eyes hollow and far away.

Jingyi crawls across the ground like a panda cub, not minding the grass staining his white robes, and gets up real close in Sizhui’s face “I’m. Going. To. Hit you.” He articulates each word out through gritted teeth.

No reaction.

And Jingyi blows out a glower worthy of Qiren. “Damn it, Sizhui!” he shouts, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking almost hysterically. “Wake up! Get a hold of yourself!”

He needs Sizhui back, awake, alert and conscious because he can’t do this on his own. This is too much for Jingyi to deal with alone. He needs his confidant.

Whoever that other immortal is -the one who seems to have taken such a liking to him- Jingyi owes him or her a lot of merits. Because for some odd reason he gets the compelling thought in him to move out of the way.

Sizhui coughs.

A burst of fire that shoots from him and would've seared off Jingyi’s eyebrows again, had he not moved. Jingyi hits the ground. Feels the momentary rush of heat sweep over his neck and makes a little noise like an ‘eeep!’ sound. Which he’ll never admit ever left his mouth, not even under torture.

He pulls himself back up and Sizhui blinks at him, shaking the bleariness out of his eyes. "Jingyi?" He asks softly, looking all confused, like a doe caught off guard and it would be adorable if the whole situation wasn't so infuriating and precarious. "What’s happening?"

Jingyi begins to vibrate and squeezes Sizhui’s shoulders tighter. "What’s happening!?" He repeats "What’s happening!? I'll tell you what's happening! You! You pyromaniac! Just tried to burn down the library!"

Sizhui can't quite process that but Jingyi storms on. "Only by the grace of some immortal somewhere did you start with the archives. Do you know how lucky we are!? Do you get that!?

“…I—”

 “We need to get out of here. Before anyone catches us looking like this.” Jingyi pulls him up by the wrist and starts to drag the still confused looking Sizhui down the path back to the dorms.

He thanks his favourable immortal again, for several things; Sizhui putting up no resistance and letting himself get manhandled back inside, because Jingyi isn’t all too gentle. For no one coming along witnessing them out of their room at this hour. For Sizhui obediently getting out of his charred, soot stained robe without questioning Jingyi’s forceful hand command for him to undress.

Jingyi slams the drawer close unintentionally hard after pulling out a new clean nightrobe, which he throws at Sizhui without a word passing through his thinly pressed lips. The one he’d brought with him had gotten lost somewhere along the way, which leaves him with yet another problem to solve.

Sizhui dresses silently, dutifully, with Jingyi turned away from him, facing out the window with his arms crossed over his chest. He fastens the sash around his waist and takes a few seconds to breathe, in order to collect himself…. His throat still hurts a little, it feels like having a dry patch halfway down his windpipe.

He looks at the robe on the floor, the one that smells strongly of smoke and is covered with charred holes and seared fringes. Sizhui has no idea how to approach this situation, processing everything that just happened seems so foreign he might as well not even try, he’s gonna come up with more questions than answers no matter how hard he tries.

Sizhui takes another somewhat shaky breath and looks up at Jingyi who is still facing away from him with too much tension trapped in his stiff shoulders and rigid stance. It feels like there’s miles between them. Sizhui frowns regretfully and a part of his heart clenches painfully in his chest. Jingyi has every right to be angry with him. Sizhui has put him through a trial tonight and… he slowly raises his arm and reaches out at Jingyi’s back several meters away, fingers closing numbly around open air. He wets his lips “…Jingyi,”

Jingyi spins around so fast Sizhui’s heart makes a minor leap of surprise, and he jerks half a step back. Jingyi takes a stance brandishing a finger at him. “We gotta play dumb, okay? Get it!?” he calls, eyes sparkling “Pretend like nothing happened!”

Sizhui blinks, several times. “…I’m not even sure what happened.” He starts.

Jingyi closes the distance between them in a few steps. “That’s great, don’t worry your head over it. Just keep your mouth shut and follow my lead, I’ve got a plan.”

Sizhui frowns “Is this anything like your plan to cook raw chicken in your stomach because you found out about stomach acids?”

Jingyi’s expression blanches and his ears turn a little pink “…We were six! And besides, Hanguang-Jun stopped me!”

“Because I told him.” Sizhui shrugs “and coming up with dumb ideas has no age limit.”

“You little!” Jingyi growls huffily. “After I helped you! And if you wanna talk dumb ideas, how about setting fire to parts of Cloud Recess and attempting to burn down the library!?”

With those words the moment of banter between them is lost. Sizhui turns pale and diverts his gaze to the floorboards. He suddenly feels very cold and oddly lightheaded “…Jingyi, I’m sorry for putting you through all of this. You didn’t have to do this for—"

“Shut up!” Jingyi exclaims loudly, poking him in the chest “Don’t you dare finish that sentence! I choose to help you and be there for you because you are my best person. Nothing will chance that!” He takes a step back and begins to pace “This is fine! Am I happy? No.” He drags a hand through his hair “Am I angry? No! All of this is just… I need to think! We need to get this under control and sit down and have a conversation about what to do…Aaarggh!” he drags his fingers down his face in frustration and paces back and forth faster.

Sizhui reaches worriedly for him without being even close to touching him “…Jingyi?”

Jingyi jolts to halt. “Shit!”

“Please don’t swear—”

“I forgot about Mu Dong!”

“Who?”

“Long story short, guest disciple with food poisoning I found while looking for you. I promised to get you to help. You and your magical teas.”

Sizhui sweats and smile awkwardly “They’re just herbal teas, no magic involved.”

OOXXXOO

Finding Mu Dong isn't hard. He's still in the bathroom, collapsed face down on the floor. Jingyi turns him over and the boy makes a sound like a dying puppy. If he looked like a corpse earlier, it's nothing compared to now. His skin is sickly pale and complexion splotted like an old bruise, with tears running down his face and sweat soaking through his robes. 'Shit' Jingyi cringes at the sight, the kid is basically deadweight in his arms.

Sizhui brushes his hair away, feeling his forehead and frowns deeply. "He needs more than tea."

With more effort than he'd like, Jingyi hitches Mu Dong’s limp body up to rest his head against his shoulder "Yeah, I can tell. Isn’t there anything in your magic box that could at least make him conscious enough for us to haul to the infirmary? Because I might be strong but this kid ain't a lightweight." It's true, Mu Dong is a big guy. Jingyi had been glad for his recent sudden growth spurt, courtesy of his Lan blood, but Mu Dong still outdoes him in height. Plus he's just… big, all over, and not all of it is muscle.

"I might have something that will settle his stomach and give some energy…" Sizhui inhales deeply "but we're still gonna have to carry him."

"What is that?" Jingyi asks motioning his head at the little paper wrapper Sizhui picks out of his bag.

"Ginger and Ginseng, basically. A few more herbs but the recipe is a family secret." His eyes sparkles slyly and Jingyi responds by sticking his tongue out. What is he? Six?

Sizhui clicks Mu Dong’s mouth open by squeezing his jaw and pours the two wrappers of powder on his tongue. "Let's give it a few minutes to take effect. The powders should dissolve and enter his bloodstream fairly quickly."

Just as Jingyi nods the clear bellow of the alarm gongs ring through the air. The sound reverberates against the surrounding mountains casting it back and forth across Cloud Recess like an echo, impossible to ignore.

Jingyi’s heart leaps against his ribcage and Sizhui’s eyes grow to twice their normal size. Mu Dong jerks but remains otherwise unaware of the outside alarm. Jingyi and Sizhui stare at each other with mirrored expressions of dread. At least Jingyi thinks they do, because Sizhui looks like Jingyi feels.

Someone bangs on the bathroom door, hard, and they both startle. Mu Dong chokes on a breath and his eyes fly open before rolling back into his skull, and Sizhui reaches for him with a worried frown, a moment's hesitation and then he grasps onto Mu Dong’s wrist.

"Anyone in there!" A sharp voice calls through the door "The library is on fire! Everyone must report to their mentor, guardian or senior in charge!"

Jingyi searches Sizhui’s eyes but finds no answer there, so he wings it, distorting his voice he responds with "Understood! Please let me finish up in here, stomach issues"

Sizhui who is still holding on to Mu Dong’s wrist, examining his meridians for any sign of improvement or otherwise, cocks an eyebrow at him and Jingyi shrugs "it's not a lie" he mouths.

OOXXXOO

They struggle to hold Mu Dong up between them. Sizhui barely reaches Mu Dong’s shoulder as it is and looks downright ridiculous with the huge arm hooked around his neck in order to hold the guy up. Jingyi huffs like he’s lifting dead-weights and hitches Mu Dong higher up, trying to take some of the burden off Sizhui. “This is going to be a precarious journey.” He grits out.

Sizhui nods a little “And we must report to Hanguang-Jun first.”

Jingyi catches the curse on his tongue and takes a deep calming breath “Okay, Hanguang-Jun will be at the library so we should make our way over there.” He groans miserably, back to the scene of the crime. “Can’t this night just end!”

They slowly make their way out of the bathroom and down the hall leading towards the outside in a very awkward unstable procession. Mu Dong is heavy and only helping a little, his feet drag along the floor more than he takes any steps.

“Do we know who his senior in charge is?” Sizhui asks breathlessly as they drag Mu Dong along the path towards the library. Jingyi shakes his head. “No idea. He’s Nie sect, that’s all I know.”

Once they reach the ground outside the library they get a lot of strange stares from the large group of people collected in the yard but most only spare them nothing but a fast glance before turning back to trying to get a better look at what’s going on inside the archive room. Most of the people outside are wearing only their night-robes, Grandmaster Qiren however has hastily thrown an outer-robe over his nightclothes. He looks oddly pale as he exits the archive room, having examined the ash remains inside, and stops right outside grabbing the doorframe as if for support. Hanguang-Jun and Wei Ying are both there as well. Hanguang-Jun hoovers close to the grandmaster, keeping a watchful eye on him in case he needs to catch the old man. Wei Ying peers into the room, scratching his head in confusion. He says something to Hanguang-Jun but it’s impossible for Jingyi and Sizhui to hear what, they are too far away and surrounded on all sides by the mumbling crowd.

“This was no accident!” Qiren yells “The pattern is too methodical. Someone did this on purpose! How dare they! The perpetrator must be caught and punished! This is an outrageous offence committed towards our Gusu-Lan sect!”

“Uncle.” Hanguang-Jun starts but Wei Ying speaks first “Grandmaster, I agree this is a clear offence, however, we are in luck nothing of importance was destroyed. Don’t you find it a little odd?” he tilts his head. “The burning has been done in such a systematic way, almost as if the perpetrator was deliberately going through it so efficiently with a purpose in mind. Where they perhaps after destroying something in particular?”

“There’s nothing of importance in there. You said so yourself!” Someone from the crowd calls out and Wei Ying nods, tipping his head from side to side “What is important is in the eye of the beholder. Something which means nothing to us may mean a lot to someone else.” He shrugs and steps down from the front porch with his hands clasped behind his head. “Or maybe someone just wanted to clear up some space, that room was kinda packed.”

“Wei WuXian!” Qiren shouts, anger colouring red up his neck and face. “To use fire in our sect’s sacred library is not only a violation of our rules but an insult to our history! How dare you joke about such a thing!”

“Grandmaster!” another voice from the crowd calls “We saw many signs of fire along the path leading up here. What does it mean?”

Qiren’s complexion turns ghoulish. “What is this!” he cries “An attack!”

Hanguang-Jun reaches out and takes hold of his elbow “Uncle should calm himself.” He says frankly and Qiren gives him a wild look, grabs his chest and hacks up a mixture of clotted blood and spit before sagging down on Wangji’s arm. “Wangji, Wangji, tell your brother he must—” he does not finish as two older disciples hurries up to offer their aid, taking him out of Hanguang-Jun’s hold “Hanguang-Jun,” one of them speaks as he bows “We will take the Grandmaster back to his room, to rest and call for Lun Fu.”

Hanguang-Jun nods his approval “See to it” is all he says as he turns to cast one final glance into the burned out room before stepping off the porch to join Wei Ying. “There is no active fire and no immediate danger. Have Cloud Recess searched!” He orders the crowd “Anyone who cannot verify their identity and right to be present, or produce the correct token, should be detained and brought to the Wind Pavilion for questioning. Further measures in the matter will be taken at a later date, after the situation has been thoroughly inspected.”

“Yes, Hanguang-Jun!” the crowd choruses, having no other choice than to comply with the instructions given by Hanguang-Jun.

“Sizhui?” Jingyi has to lean his head in a rather uncomfortable angle to get a closer look at him. Sizhui has gone pale, and his eyes are just a little too wide. Around them the crowd is dispersing, some returning to their rooms to gather either their swords or tokens, others going on their way to carry out Hanguang-Jun’s orders. Sizhui looks like he’s having a hard time breathing. Jingyi wants to reach out and grab his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze, but he can’t do that; he would have to let go of Mu Dong and that would start an ugly chain reaction.

“There you are.” A voice announces and it is indeed Hanguang-Jun making his way over to them in a well poised stride.

“Hanguang-Jun” Jingyi greets him best he can with the weight of Mu Dong crushing his side.

“You were late to arrive. Why is that?” Hanguang-Jun looks at Sizhui but it’s Jingyi who answers him. “We were with this one, we found him in the bathroom a little while ago, his condition is awful. Food poisoning. We were not able to move him until just now. We were about to transport him to the infirmary when we heard the alarm.”

"Mmhm." Hanguang-Jun sweeps his eyes over Mu Dong. "This one requires medical attention. Did you give him anything?" He directs the question to Sizhui who nods slowly. "Yes. A mixture of ginseng and ginger. To perk him up enough to move. Nothing that will interfere with actual medical treatments. However, he's lost a lot of fluids and should be brought to the healers at earliest."

Hanguang-Jun nods "See to it."

Both Sizhui and Jingyi bow their heads as best they can. "Yes, Hanguang-Jun." They say in unison shifting Mu Dong over to head towards the infirmary.

“Sizhui.”

Sizhui turns back to look up at his father. “Yes?”

Hanguang-Jun studies his face firmly for a few seconds. “You sound hoarse. Let the healers examine you. Have the infirmary head report the results of your examination directly to me.”

Sizhui swallows around the dryness invading his throat and bows his head “Yes.”

“What is this I hear?” Wei Ying sticks his head out from behind Hanguang-Jun’s shoulder. “A-Yuan, are you coming down with something?” he reaches out and presses the palm of his hand against Sizhui's forehead and frowns “You are a little warm–” he concludes and a small crease appears between Hanguang-Jun’s brows “-but I don’t think you have a fever.”

Sizhui takes one tentative step back and puts on his best mild reassuring smile. "I feel alright, papa. Don't worry."

Wei Ying glances at him with wide eyes and a slightly tilted head. "Do as your father says and let the healers check you over, just to be on the safe side. We don’t want you falling ill, you do not have the constitution to be wearing such a thin nightrobe in this weather at this time of year."

Sizhui inwardly winces. In the corner of his eye he can see the barely hidden grimace on Jingyi’s face. That’s right, the nightrobe he’s wearing is ever so slightly too long, it is Jingyi’s. His own are specially made and much thicker because of his poor relationship with cold. Hanguang-Jun looks back the moment Wei Ying alerts him to the state of Sizhui’s clothes and surveys him up and down. Sizhui just knows Hanguang-Jun is suspecting something now. Maybe he can still save this. “Ah, this is Jingyi’s. I think our clothes got mixed up, it happens.”

Hanguang-Jun’s eyes narrow sharply “See to it that you change into your appropriate attire. it is for your own sake.”

Mu Dong’s head rolls over onto Sizhui’s shoulder and he makes a miserable sound, sagging in their grip like a limp sack of turnips. Jingyi adjusts his grip to compensate for the dead weight “We really need to get this one to the infirmary.”

OOXXXOO

Cloud Recess spent the better part of the day in relative chaos, people being questioned left and right by a group of older Lan disciples who’d formed what could by a stretch be described as a band of vigilantes. Lead by Zhou Shengui from the Gusu-Lan sect and flanked by two guest disciples, Gu Zhao and Yao Yanzheng.

Jingyi and Sizhui stays well out of all of it by spending their day up on a cliffside ridge where they used to play as kids. The groove of chestnut trees and the funny looking rock formation had made it the perfect spot for play. The elevation gave them an overview of the path leading to the ridge and it was out of the way so they wouldn’t disturb anyone if they got loud -read, if Jingyi got loud-. It sits at the top end of the Inner Walls meaning no one other than the main Lan family has access to it. Still to this day it’s one of their favourite spots to go to when they need alone time. They’ve never seen anyone else up here. Not Hanguang-Jun, not Zewu-Jun, not Qiren, which might be self-explanatory, it’s a rather steep climb to get up here and there are no stairs, only a small footpath made by Jingyi and Sizhui since they were five years old.

They’re all set for avoiding the chaos by spending the whole day up here, curled up on a blanket between three rocks shaded by the largest tree. They have books, tea, a bag of snacks and each other’s company. Basically, they have everything they need to camp up here for days. Not that they’re going to. The nights get too cold for Sizhui and they’ll both miss hot meals.

Just because you can do something, doesn’t mean you have to do it.

Jingyi stretches above his head, cracking his neck with a long groan and the book he’s made it halfway through falls off his lap “…Should we perhaps go back?” his stomach growls “It’s getting late, maybe things have quieted down. If we leave now we might be able to sneak some leftovers from lunch.”

Sizhui sweeps his eyes out over the edge of the cliffside, as if looking for a sign of the current state of Cloud Recess down below -if the coast is clear or not. Not that they’re able to tell from this distance- he shakes his head. “I think I’ll stay.” He rummages through their snacks bag and throws Jingyi a steamed bun which Jingyi skilfully catches and takes a large bite out of.

“You can go back if you want” he doesn’t sound like he truly wants Jingyi to leave. “…I need time to think, and— and Zhou Shengui doesn’t like me.” It’s not what he wants to say, it’s empty words but Jingyi pretends to buy it for no other reason than to absolve Sizhui of the situation.

He chews the bun slowly, swallows and curls his nose into a grimace. “No need to fear Zhou Shengui, he tries anything with you like last time, I’ll beat him up, again.”

Sizhui smiles sweetly “Thank you.”

OOXXXOO

It’s several more hours into the afternoon, and the sun is sitting rather low, when someone comes looking for them and it’s none other than Wei Ying and his infinite amount of energy who finds their hide out spot.

“So, this is where you are hiding.” He puts his hands on his hips and beams widely at them. Hard to tell if he's proud of himself for finding them or proud of them for staying hidden so long. “Lan Zhan asked me to find you, since one of you neglected to do as he was told.”

Jingyi blinks.

Sizhui blinks. “… Oh! The infirmary.”

Wei Ying isn’t smiling anymore. “Yes, the infirmary.” He confirms.

Sizhui sighs slowly, controlled and closes the book resting in his lap. Jingyi catches the words ‘teachings of Wen Mao’ on the title before Sizhui slides it into his sleeve and stands. “It is unnecessary to bother the healers with a sore throat. I can treat myself with a cup of herbal tea.”

Wei Ying’s eyes narrow “That’s not what this is about A-Yuan.”

“It isn’t?”

Jingyi inwardly winces, he can’t tell if Sizhui is feeling particularly rebellious today or if he’s truly baffled by his fathers concern for him. Probably the latter.

“All considered, today is a rather bad day to bother the healers with something as insignificant as a sore throat, which I can and have already handled—”

“You can either go straight to the infirmary on your own right now, or you can take the trip over my knee first.” Wei Ying supplies flatly, but there's no mistaking the warning note in his voice. “Either way, you’re going. It’s up to you whether it’s with or without a sore behind.”

Sizhui takes a step back, holding his hands up in a placating manner. “Okay, okay. Fine, I’m going.”

“Good boy. Of course, I’ll have to inform your father of your attitude, so you might still end up with a sore behind later.” He’s only half teasing, he’s not sure what punishment Lan Zhan has in store for their son.

Sizhui makes a high-pitched whining groan. And it’s such a perturbed teenager sound to make that, had he not been trying to discipline him, Wei Ying would have reached out and pinched his cheek.

“Go.” He instructs “You have to the count of three to get going or you will end up both over my knee right here and now and over Lan Zhan’s later.”

“That’s unfair, you’d punish me twice for the same offence.”

Wei Ying tilts his head “Would we really?” he asks with narrowed eyes, his tone as dangerous as a snake ready to strike.

“It’s a trap!” Jingyi cries, getting up and urgently pulling at Sizhui’s sleeve. “I’ve been on the receiving end of spankings far too many times to not recognise a trap when I see one! Trust me.”

Sizhui ignores him. “I am alright, I don’t require medical attention. I’ll go if it makes you feel better, but I’ll only be wasting time, both the healers and min—Eeep! Ow!”

Wei Ying moves faster than anticipated of someone with a still very weak golden core, getting behind Sizhui and swatting him once. Hard. “Now that was a taste of what’s to come unless you do as told.” He wags an admonishing finger in Sizhui’s face. “Go to the infirmary. Get checked out and then report to your father, you picked the wrong day to defy him.”

Sizhui doesn’t trust himself to speak properly so he just nods rapidly. Drawing a shaky breath, he manages “Yes, Papa. I promise, I’ll go straight away.”

“Good boy.” Wei Ying says decisively and cups Sizhui’s face “I need you to understand that your well-being is not a waste of time. You are not a waste of time. Not to me, not to Lan Zhan, not to Jingyi and not to the healers.”

Next to him Jingyi nods in excessive agreement.

Sizhui smiles slightly. "I understand. I'm sorry."

Wei Ying smiles back. "You're forgiven, now get going" he says and pushes him in the direction of the infirmary.

OOXXXOO

Lan Wangji is having a very bad day. The archives fire has caused a lot of unease among the residents of Cloud Recess, and no clues as for the identity of the perpetrator have been found. Uncle is still out of commission, leaving all of the work to Wangji. There’s a group of vigilante disciples turning people and quarters upside down and running amok, causing even more unease. Even more troubling is they have supporters, and silent supporters can be just as dangerous as the active ones. On top of that Sizhui seems to have picked this day, of all days, to rebel and defy him. And there’s a terrified group of Nie disciples who only arrived yesterday and are now facing wild accusations by the vigilante group.

This is all getting out of hand.

Trying to stay on top of everything is a hairpuller. The sun is about to set, and he hasn't left his desk all day! His knees are killing him!

It may be an unfortunate metaphor considering the circumstances but ‘putting one fire out seems to trigger three new ones.’ Wangji is above pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to rub out the headache burning behind his eyes. At least that’s what he tells himself as he picks up yet another letter from yet another elder with the nerves of a dry leaf.

A knock on the door. Precious unwarranted distraction. “Enter.”

“Father?”

“Sizhui” He greets him without looking up. “Your report from the healers.” He states evenly, holding his open palm out for Sizhui to place the report in while continuing to write the letter to soothe elder XiHuan’s expressed worries over the recent fires -number eight so far- Damn elders, don’t they get that their anxious meddling desire for reassurance is hindering him from working on the case and actually solving it?

Sizhui skitters quietly across the floor and hands him the report.

“Sit” Wangji instructs as soon as he gets it and Sizhui does as told -for once today-. He puts the brush down and skims through the report “You were seen by Healer Kuan An?”

Sizhui nods “Lun Fu was unavailable.”

Of course, Uncle is hogging Lun Fu. Poor Lun Fu who had in his recent letter -after informing of the Grandmaster’s current condition- also assured Wangji that this better be the last episode he has to attend to this week or he’s going to start pulling his hair out.

Wangji is not sure how that’s going to work.

Lun Fu is bald.

Healer Kuan An is not familiar with Sizhui’s natural qi profile and may therefore not be ideal to examine him. Lun Fu would have been best, but circumstances are what they are. Wangji is not going to fight the system, not today. He signs the report and stamps it. “Kuan An states that your meridians are remarkably clear. Though delicate they remain whole and have not fractured. And your qi is unusually warm. He finds it odd. I do not, it is natural for you to have these conditions.”

“Because I’m a Wen?” Sizhui mumbles and looks up at him with something akin to fragile wishfullness in his eyes.

“Yes.” Wangji nods shortly. “However, there’s another matter we must discuss. It is almost dinner time; it took you more than ten hours to comply with the directive to visit the infirmary, and only after being prompted by Wei Ying. That is unacceptable.”

“I…I understand.” Sizhui lowers his head and clutches the fabric of his sleeves tight. Wangji doesn’t say anything more for now, letting his words sink in. “…Father?” Sizhui starts with a bit of difficulty after some pause. “Have I been bad?”

“Yes.” Wangji is aware that bad is the incorrect word. Defiant, disobedient, insubordinate would be more accurate.

“Are you…angry?”

“No.”

“Disappointed?”

“No.”

“… I don’t—”

Wangji is neither angry nor disappointed, he’s concerned. “Wei Ying and I will not tolerate this sort of behaviour.” Sizhui flinches despite the fact that Wangji has not raised his voice “When we tell you to see a healer, you see a healer. Your herbal teas have proven both beneficial and highly effective, but they are not substitute for actual medical treatment. Understood?”

Sizhui nods “Yes. I understand.”

“Good. You are grounded and confined to your room for two days to reflect on your behaviour. Jingyi will receive the same punishment for one day for aiding you.”

“But Jingyi didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Jingyi enabled your behaviour and did not attempt to convince you to conduct yourself in an appropriate manner and do as told. He will be confined to your room at the dorm, effective immediately. You will be confined to your room in the Jingshi, also effective immediately. You are dismissed.”

“Yes, father.” Sizhui stands and bows. There’s no point in arguing.

THE END CHAPTER 1

A/N: Zhou Shengui and Lun Fu will be introduced in later chapters.

Chapter Text

Over the next few days the turbulent matters in Cloud Recess seem to settle down a bit and life returns to normal. The Grandmaster returns to teaching classes, the group of Nie-disciples gets settled. Lan Wangji still has to deal with the vigilantes but at least there are no more reports of wildfires.

However, that does not mean everything is sunshine and rainbows. Wei Ying is alone in Jingshi one afternoon, playing solitaire with himself -that's usually how that works- when a letter of notice reaches him. At first, he assumes it’s from another teacher informing them about Sizhui’s absence from class, he’s missed more than one in the past few days and for some undisclosed reason Lan Zhan has decided to tolerate it. But, for once, it’s not a note about Sizhui skipping class. This letter is from some faceless disciple and addressed to Hanguang-Jun but since Lan Zhan is unavailable Wei Ying opens and reads it. It reports of an ongoing incident by the sparring grounds where Zhou Shengui has shot an arrow which ended up almost hitting Sizhui.

Wei Ying’s heart leaps up. It's very serious. If that arrow had struck Sizhui he could have been seriously injured or killed. He throws his robes on and heads for the sparring ground at a pace which is far beyond allowed.

He can basically taste the silent tension in the air when he gets there. A rather large group of disciples have formed a circle around the sparring field, all tensely watching the proceedings inside. No one makes a sound. It's eerily quiet and it only fuels Wei Ying’s concern as he taps a few shoulders to be let through.

What he sees is what must be Zhou Shengui on the ground, his sword dropped several meters away as he glares up at Lan Jingyi standing over him with the tip of his sword pressed at Zhou Shengui's chest. "You cowardly attempted to attack a fellow disciple!"

"He pushed me!" Zhou Shengui’s eyes snap over at Sizhui, futility trying to hold Jingyi back with a loose grip on his sleeve.

"You shoot an arrow at him! While he was unprepared and not on the sparring field! You've broken several rules and etiquette. All weapons are to remain sheathed and unloaded outside of the practice grounds. Weapons are only allowed to be used on the sparring ground with the expressed consent if both parties participating in the match. Arrows are not allowed to be fired at living people!" Jingyi’s eyes flash angrily like Wei Ying has seen Qiren’s and Lan Zhan’s do when they are very upset.

That's enough. Wei Ying has heard all he needs to intervene before things get out of hand, young people are scary when their impulses reign. He claps his hands causing twenty-something faces to turn his way.

“Master Wei” Jingyi lowers his sword but does not sheath it.

“Papa.”

Wei Ying steps down to the sparring ground and walks over ‘til he’s only feet away from the hostile parties. “Now, how about we all take some deep calming breaths and then tell me what happened here.” It’s not a suggestion. A few people from the group of onlookers quietly back their way out of there.

“This shameless excuse for a Lan sect disciple—” Jingyi motions towards the floored Zhou Shengui “Shot an arrow at Sizhui! And now he has the face to continue this disgraceful display of humiliating himself and bringing dishonour on our Gusu-Lan sect!” Jingyi has not sounded more like Qiren since Wei Ying met the boy, the resemblance is uncanny. Not just his words; his stance, the way his eyes flash and the tone of his voice.

“He pushed me!” Zhou Shengui points madly, throwing the accusation at Sizhui as if he didn't fire the first shot. Something quick sparkles in the corner of Sizhui’s eyes, a teasing little glint that foretells he finds riling Zhou Shengui up hilarious. “Papa, he pulled my hair.” He responds calmly. But those words are enough to send a scandalous ripple reverberating between the hills and pavilions, it sounds like a long drawn in gasp.

“Oh!” Wei Ying puts on a mock display of gasping dramatically “That means he likes you!”

Zhou Shengui freezes.

The whole left side of Jingyi’s face begins to twitch, and his grip on the sword hilt hardens till the knuckles turn white as that rolling wave of scandalous whispers picks up momentum among the spectators.

“I don’t like that twink!!” Zhou Shengui shouts, scrambling up on his feet. “How dare you suggest I’m some sort of disgusting cut-sleeve! For a damn kid!”

Jingyi makes an aborted motion cut off by Sizhui grabbing hold of him and covering his mouth with his hand.

“I’m suggesting you calm down.” Wei Ying’s voice lowers to a dangerous note as his eyes darken, and Zhou Shengui flinches back. “I assume you are an adult and I have no authority over you, but I will inform my husba— Hanguang-Jun of this. I hope you understand the implications of your actions. Had Sizhui been harmed Hanguang-Jun would not be your biggest problem. Today you are lucky I’m in a good mood. Scram.” His fingers ghost over Chenqing in his belt and Zhou Shengui pales.

He takes three steps back, bows and takes off without a word. Wei Ying follows his retreating back and takes note of two people dislodging from the group to follow him, probably his vigilante friends.

“Master Wei!” Jingyi calls outraged at seeing the offenders getting off the hook. Wei Ying reaches out and pats him on the head “Calm yourself.” He says and smiles at him. He scratches Jingyi’s scalp in the same way he pets Little Apple and the boy seems to slowly defuse under the treatment, interesting. Before turning to Sizhui Wei Ying whispers “Thank you, Jingyi.” In the sincerest tone he can muster, because he’s truly grateful. “A-Yuan, are you hurt?”

Sizhui shakes his head “No.” And Wei Ying grins wide “Of course not!” he exclaims matter-of-factly “You had valiant Jingyi here protecting you!” It’s an absolutely outrageous thing to say.

Jingyi’s ears turn red and Sizhui, deciding to play along, snickers into his sleeve “Indeed.” He replies softly. “Thank you, Jingyi.” He says and smiles that sweet smile he reserves only for Jingyi, the one that is light, genuine and touches the corner of his eyes, giving life to his face like no other do. Like the little ray of sunshine he is.

Jingyi’s ears turn an even deeper shade of red and he covers them with his hands. “Damn you both!” he cries out and rushes off in the direction of the elevated gardens.

Wei Ying laughs loudly. Teasing kids is so much fun.

After calming down and wiping a stray tear off he turns back to Sizhui “What actually happened here today?”

“I’m not sure. I was reading on the stairs while Jingyi rehearsed the new formations Hanguang-Jun instructed him on” Wei Ying nods for him to continue. Sizhui sighs “Suddenly someone pulled my hair, really hard. It hurt. I reacted rashly and pushed whoever did it away. I’m not sure which one of them actually pulled my hair but Zhou Shengui was the one I ended up pushing down the stairs. He got mad but Yao Yanzheng helped him up and told him to ignore it and go shoot some arrows instead.”

Wei Ying nods thoughtfully, sucking on his knuckle “Let me guess, he then fired the arrow at you.”

“I don’t think he truly intended to hit me, just scare me, but it was close. I felt the wind as it went by my head.”

“It is unacceptable—”

“I should not have pushed him.”

Wei Ying exercises a remarkable amount of self-restraint in not pinching the bridge of his nose. “How old is Zhou Shengui?”

Sizhui looks like he thinks it’s a strange question. “Twenty-two, I think.”

“So, at least six years older than you. Old enough to understand the consequences of his actions and be held accountable. He should know better. I’m not one to talk, but not even I shot arrows at people in my twenties. I did some other things, which should remain unsaid, things I shouldn’t have done and wish I could make undone but… shit happens.”

Sizhui frowns and Wei Ying can’t really read that expression. He’s not sure what thoughts and feelings are hiding behind Sizhui’s eyes so he throws an arm around his shoulders and hugs him to his side. “Let’s go find Jingyi. Don’t you two have class soon?”

Sizhui laughs quietly and quickly hugs him back "Yes, guest lecturer Lan Baoming's diplomacy class starts shortly."

Wei Ying makes a face "sounds positively fascinating" He dawdles sarcastically, fanning the air in front of his face with one hand, the other playing with a few strands of hair on the back of Sizhui's head as the boy buries his face against his chest. Because diplomacy class sounds about as fun as waterdrop torture.

Sizhui remains tucked into the embrace and grins against Wei Ying’s chest. "Jingyi is looking forward to it."

"Is he sick!?"

Sizhui dislodges himself and pulls back. "He’s required to take the class, I'm not sure if he likes it or if he's telling himself he does because he knows he needs it." He says. "That reminds me, I'm supposed to present Lan Baoming with a welcoming gift. I should go get it before class starts, don't want to be late."

"From what I've heard you're getting good at that"

Sizhui flinches and remains still and silent for a while, eyes cast to the ground. It’s the awful truth. The library incident has left him even more off kilter than normal recently. The time after regaining his memories has been rough and Sizhui knows it’s partially his own fault. He gets trapped in his own head sometimes and when that happens the fact that he’s missing classes doesn’t even register. Hanguang-Jun has been surprisingly lenient about it. His fathers obviously know about his recent inability to focus.

After some pause Sizhui turns back to face Wei Ying and voices quietly, barely above a whisper "Sometimes, I'm reading or thinking, and I lose track of time…" his voice quivers just ever so slightly and Wei Ying cups his face, applying enough pressure to softly squeeze Sizhui’s cheeks between the palms of hands "Don't worry about it.” He assures him “You need time. Lan Zhan and I are here for you. Jingyi too and Wen Ning as well, I'm not sure where he is but I'm sure he's not far off." He never is.

Sizhui knows where Uncle Ning is but Uncle Ning has asked him to keep his whereabouts hidden, for now. At least until he gets more settled.

"Papa," Sizhui smiles and Wei Ying squeezes his cheeks a little harder. "I'm going to be late."

Wei Ying releases him "of course! I too have a commitment to make today. I think I'd rather take your diplomacy class if you take my meeting with the elders."

"No deal!" Sizhui hurries.

OXXXO

One thing Wei Ying is not used to is conversations with the Gusu-Lan elders being productive, usually having a discussion with the damn wall is more rewarding. But today’s meeting proved to be surprisingly beneficial and both he and Lan Zhan leave the cultivation hall in a good mood.

In short, the elders are satisfied with Wei Ying’s cleansing process proceeding promisingly, they had called him ‘almost cleared of resentful energy’. Wei Ying had bowed, thanked them for their wisdom and then left with Lan Zhan. He’s not going to be the one to tell them that because this body is Mo Xuanyu’s it has not accumulated the same amount resentful energy as his original body had. He not going to risk upsetting the elders by declaring them dumb. He wants to stay in Cloud Recess, that’s where Lan Zhan is and A-Yuan. A-Yuan, who is struggling to cope and needs him. Wei Ying can’t risk leaving him now, when he’s so close to breaking from the sheer weight of everything that has surfaced.

A part of Wei Ying is… maybe not jealous but a little in awe. A-Yuan has so many memories of his family -good and horribly bad ones- even though he’d been much younger during the siege than Wei Ying himself had been when he lost his parents, yet Wei Ying has basically no memories of his mother and father. He’s not actually jealous, but it worries him that A-Yuan now remembers his family with such clarity. Ignorance is a bliss until the truth is unveiled.

It worries him because he knows it hurts A-Yuan. And Wei Ying isn’t the only one who worries; Lan Zhan worries, Jingyi worries, Qiren worries, Wen Ning worries, the elders… do not know A-Yuan’s true identity. But some of them have noticed the shift in him and expressed concern. That Sizhui is a Wen is still a secret only shared with a close select group of people.

Wei Ying and Wangji are making their way back to the Jingshi when they round the corner and almost crash into Lan Baoming, storming his way towards the guest quarters, robes billowing behind him. He’s moving so quickly it may well be treading the fine line of running. He looks furious, angry red splotches marbling his face, fists balled tight and eyes flashing. He appears ready to snap at them before he sees just who he’s run into, instead he falls into the practiced bow so easily it’s almost rude.

‘That’s something so very Lan-clan, right there’ Wei Ying thinks ‘they take politeness to such a degree it is almost indistinguishable from impoliteness.’

“Sixth cousin Wangji” Lan Baoming greets around a harsh mouthful of spiteful respect for Hanguang-Jun’s standing, Wei Ying is left ignored. “I urge you to wash that boy’s mouth out with soap!” He spits. “That insolent little brat of yours dared to question my authority, insulted me in front of the whole class—” he coughs hard, and Wei Ying takes the opportunity.

“Excuse me!” He bristles, fingers itching dangerously towards Chenqing in his belt as sparks of red fires of along the edges of his eyes. No one gets to call his baby brat, except him. “What did you say? Care to repe— Lan Zhan!”

Wangji has stepped in front of him, skilfully lodging himself in-between the other two. “Lan Baoming” He says formally “watch your words. Foul language is strictly forbidden in Cloud recess.”

Lan Baoming seems to grind down on his teeth “Of course, please excuse this disciple. He finds the disrespect he’s been subject to quite distressing.”

“I will speak with Sizhui, take his side of the story into consideration.”

“The honourable Hanguang-Jun does not believe this senior to be telling the truth?” It’s a grave accusation and for Wei Ying one other nail in the coffin for this Lan Baoming.

“Lan Baoming is not qualified to pass judgement on such matters.”

It’s the word equivalent of a slap in the face.

Baoming recoils with a supressed jolt and bows “Of course” he grinds out between gritted teeth “This senior disciple apologizes, he spoke out of turn and frustration.” He bows deeply, face turned downwards, as if hiding the expression marring his face. “I trust Hanguang-Jun will take my experience into account and settle the matter with resolve. Please excuse me, I shall take my leave.”

For a second Baoming looks like he might push his way through between Wangji and Wei Ying but changes his mind at the last second and goes around them instead. As he brushes past Wei Ying’s shoulder -a little too close- he sends him a sneer of a glare.

Watching Baoming’s retreating back as he goes Wei Ying contemplates sticking his tongue out but decides against it. “Lan Zhan, who is this Baoming character?” he asks instead “Your cousin?”

“No one important.” Wangji responds stoically. “Wei Ying and Sizhui do not need to concern themselves.”

Wei Ying tips his head “You don’t like him, and never did.”

Wangji does not answer but coming from Lan Wangji silence is as good as affirmation. He turns on his heels towards the Jingshi “Let’s have tea.”

They’re halfway back when the run into Jingyi making his way from the Spring Rain Pavilion at a slightly too hurried pace. “Hanguang-Jun, Master Wei!” he sounds relieved to find them, the frantic shine in his eyes lessening as he skids to a halt and bows quickly. “So glad I found you. Have you seen Sizhui? I’ve looked everywhere, the dorms, the library, the gardens, the chestnut groove, most pavilions. Not the cold pond or pools but-” he barely breathes between words and Wangji beckons him to silence.

Wei Ying sticks his chin out, let’s see if this kid is willing to tell the truth. “Did something happen?” he asks innocently.

Jingyi nods vigorously “Yes. Sizhui got into a fight with guest lecturer Lan Baoming.”

“How?”

“Lecturer Lan Baoming listed some historically failed diplomatic endeavours. Sizhui informed him that two of the incidents he mentioned were not in fact diplomatic attempts but carefully crafted exploits by a manipulative mastermind, set to murder and frame the innocent. Baoming apparently did not like to be corrected. He called Sizhui misinformed.” Jingyi takes a deep breath “Sizhui countered back with the same and insisted he could not let Baoming teach incorrect information. It went back and forth like that for a while until Baoming lost his temper and furiously asked Sizhui why he so adamantly refused to see the truth of historical fact.”

There’s a pause in which Wangji and Wei Ying waits for Jingyi to elaborate further but he doesn’t. “And?” Wei Ying prompts him.

Jingyi sighs “Sizhui responded by saying that if he agreed with everything Baoming was saying then they would both be wrong.”

Wei Ying presses his lips tightly together in order not to laugh out loud “Cheeky boy.” He grins wide. “Then what?”

“Baoming threw his brush stand, which Sizhui dodged with ease.” Jingyi tells “He then shouted about impudent behaviour and yelled at Sizhui to Get Out.”

“Let me guess, A-Yuan left?”

“Respectfully.” Jingyi nods “I stayed in class because I sort of have to-” he cringes “-but ever since lecturer Baoming let us out, I’ve been looking for Sizhui.” He frowns worriedly “I’ve checked all our, his, regular spots. I don’t know what to do anymore.” He looks up at both Wei Ying and Wangji with a pleading little wrinkle between his brows. “Hanguang-Jun, Master Wei, I’m really worried about Sizhui. He-” Jingyi cuts himself off and averts his gaze, as if he was about to tell them something he's not sure he’s truly privileged to share.

Wei Ying catches on to that and frowns, leaning forward slightly, seeking eye-contact. “What’s going on? Why are you worried about A-Yuan?” Honestly, Jingyi is not alone in being worried about Sizhui’s recent behaviours, but his reasons may be different from Wangji’s and Wei Ying’s. Which could prove additional concerns or more clues.

Jingyi looks very reluctant to share what’s on his mind.

“Come on.” Wei Ying prompts encouragingly “Tell us.”

Jingyi averts his gaze and releases a disproportionately large sigh. “…he’s been having nightmares.” He sort of mumbles then seems to find his voice and courage once the cat’s out of the bag “Awful ones. He screams, he cries, he kicks and thrashes, he’s hot to the touch.” Jingyi babbles, voice an octave above reasonable in Cloud Recess, Wangji does not correct him. “I have to try and hold him down. Sometimes I can’t wake him, I have no choice but to wait it out. It’s terrifying. He vomits-” Wei Ying grows cold inside hearing those words and he can feel Wangji tense next to him “It’s almost every night now, to some extent, and it’s gotten worse. It’s much worse than those occasional night terrors he always used to have. I had to put a silencing spell on him just to avoid alerting the whole dorm. I don’t know what to do.” Jingyi looks like a great deal of energy has left him. “Master Wei, Hanguang-Jun, how do I help Sizhui?” he pleads with them.

Wei Ying steps up, puts a hand on Jingyi’s shoulder and squeezes. “You’re helping, now.” He says reassuringly “Like this. You’re helping by telling us.”

“When did the nightmares start?” Wangji asks and Jingyi turns to him “Immediately after he returned from his trip with the Ghost General.” He informs “It wasn’t so bad in the beginning, or I guess it was bad but that was before it got really bad, so by comparison not so bad initially.”

Wangji silences him with a nod of understanding. “You should go to dinner.” He instructs “Wei Ying and I will search for Sizhui.”

Jingyi doesn’t move. Instead he bites his bottom lip and looks like he’s debating something with himself. “There’s… something else.” He mumbles.

Wei Ying leans closer “What?” he blinks large imploring eyes at the reluctant boy “Come on, do tell.”

“I don’t know what to make of it, if anything at all but-” Jingyi averts his gaze “Sizhui has this book he keeps hidden on his person.”

“Oh?” Wei Ying blinks in surprise and Wangji’s eyebrow raises. “What sort of book is it?” has their boy started taking an interest in dirty books?

Jingyi looks over his shoulder and behind himself, casting suspicious glances in all directions before answering in a deliberately low voice. “The teachings of Wen Mao.”

His words land like a surprise smack flat across the face. Wei Ying freezes and sucks in breath. “Ooouhhgg.” He groan complains, like it hurts “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan our boy has something dangerous!” Any writing by Wen Mao is strictly forbidden. If the wrong person catches Sizhui with it, the book will be burned and Sizhui will be confined and perhaps subjected to reconditioning. If they figure out he’s a Wen the repercussions will be even more dire.

Jingyi’s head snaps up to look at them “He doesn’t let anyone see he has it! I don’t think he knows that I know! And I promise, I won’t tell anyone!”

Wei Ying places a hand on his head to hush him “Don’t worry about it. Lan Zhan and I will handle it. All you have to do is be A-Yuan’s friend and Lan Zhan and I will be his fathers.” He ruffles Jingyi’s hair “Go get some dinner. Let us search for A-Yuan.”

Jingyi nods half-heartedly.

OOXXXOO

Sizhui has locked the door to the small windowless reading room he’s occupied. He doesn’t want to see or talk to anyone and he cannot risk being seen with what he’s got. The Wen books, as he calls them, spread out over the small desk in front of him is what he needs to keep his mind off things right now. Lan Baoming’s furious face and words ring through his ears. Sizhui has never been a violent person, he has also never wanted to spit in someone’s face before. But he wants to spit on Baoming, wants the cathartic release of taking his Guqin and just use it as a blunt weapon…

He shakes his head furiously, trying to dispel the thoughts and desires to do such things. He’s probably already in trouble with Hanguang-Jun for talking back to a teacher in the way he did. Sizhui sighs to himself, his fathers will have been notified of his behaviour and that he was thrown out of class. Wei Ying might be discreetly proud of him, but Hanguang-Jun will be displeased with his conduct. He may have been lenient with his skipping but there’s no way he’ll be as forgiving with this on top of it. Sizhui tries not to ponder what his punishment might be but it’s hard not to speculate. He doesn’t want to be punished by Hanguang-Jun but it might be the price he has to pay in order to get the end result he wants.

Ever since getting his memories back Sizhui has questions. Questions about his family and their herbalist cultivation, Uncle Ning has been a great source there. Questions about the founder of his sect, his forefather, Wen Mao and his values and principals and Sizhui wants true answers not the demonizing words of the spiteful.

He wants to form his own opinions.

He’s curious about a lot of things he never cared for earlier. Drinking for example. Considering the grand scale of things alcohol might seem to be a strange thing to wonder about, but it is just one small thing out of many. He had grown up thinking he was a Lan and because of that he’d never paid alcohol any heed. He’d seen what it did to Hanguang-Jun and knew of the Lan clan’s famously super low tolerance. But Sizhui had been lied to, he is not a Lan. The alcohol might have negative effects on Lan’s, but Wei Ying always seemed happier when drinking.

Sizhui always thought he would react the same way Hanguang-Jun did; take one sip, completely lose all inhibitions and wake up the next day without any memory of what happened. But honestly that’s probably not true. He’s not a Lan. Maybe he’ll react like Wei Ying?

He could try on the next night-hunt…

Would it make him happier? More talkative? Would it make it easier to ask the questions he wants answered but can’t bring himself to ask? Would it make it possible for him to tell his fathers about… some stuff? Would it make it easier to deal with the memories of the siege? The memories that have him up at night, that invades his thoughts and traps him in waking dreams that has him losing time and missing classes. Memories he tries to push down but can’t ignore because they’re not gently knocking on the door in the form of a familiar scent or musical tune anymore, they’re bashing it down with shrieks and blood and the smell of rotten flesh.

‘Don’t think about it!’ He tells himself. ‘Focus on the books’ The Wen texts are something solid to hold on to and he glues his eyes to the anatomical diagram detailing the acupuncture spots but the signature at the bottom of the page draws his attention. Her handwriting.

Her work.

Wen Qing.

Auntie…

He sighs, there’s no use. Sizhui pushes himself back and leans down, resting his chin atop the table and stares at the candleflame. The spirited little light following the directions of the air flow through the room. Even without windows it has life.

The twirling flame rhythmically guided in its dance by the slightest touch of air. Or maybe it doesn't need the air, maybe it lives on its own. It’s hypnotizing. He stares at it, into it. And then stares more, enthralled by that burning little light. The outside world disappears, shrinks into this compressed space of fire.

He blinks, and the flame goes out.

Sizhui tips his head, slightly transfixed. Now, isn’t that the most curious thing. He stares at that smoking wick as it slowly colours from red to grey to black and the outside world begins to fade back in, he feels the table coming back, the bookshelves to his right, someone walking by outside, a gentle conversation in the next room… he imagines the flame dancing around the wick, sees the fire start in his mind’s eye and then blinks.

The candle burns again. It carries a peculiar sort of odd familiarity. It feels like a living thing. He straightens up a bit and reaches for it, hesitates for a fraction of a second just as his fingers grace it. Then cups the gentle little light and lifts it off the wick into his hand, pulling it towards himself. He watches the fire grow in his hand, the erratic lick of orange flames dancing gracefully in his palm. The warmth it radiates, the light. He breathes strength into it and it pulsates like a living creature.  Like a hatching bird.

Sizhui startles back, pushes both himself and the table away. It scrapes against the floorboards, the candle rolls off and disappears into a corner and the gentle conversation in the next room comes to a halt, or maybe it had quieted a long time ago. A flash of hot and cold passes through him. The world around him suddenly feels oddly bright despite the inclosing darkness between the walls. What had he been doing?

He stumbles back and it's not until his back hits the rear wall shelf hard enough to knock a few scrolls down that Sizhui comes to a halt. His chest heaving. Did he just play with fire in the library!? Why would he do something like that? Why did it feel so right to manipulate the flame? Why did it feel like he was holding a little life in his hands?

He knows why. Deep inside he knows exactly why. And it both thrills and frightens him.

“A-Yuan?”

Sizhui jumps high. Gets his foot snagged in his own robes and tumbles down, almost dragging a shelf along with him. He lands clumsily on his back and quickly spins around pulling up on his knees and— both his fathers are there. At first glance all he sees is the bottom halves of their robes. Folds of white and blue and red and black.

He looks up, searching their faces. Hanguang-Jun stands tall, one hand behind his back and the other resting on Bichen’s scabbard, his expression neutral. Sizhui does not know what to make of it.

Wei Ying leans down at the waist, smiling coquettishly, eyes playing with a mischievous glint, “Do you know what time it is?”

“Huh!?” Sizhui holds that gaze and shakes his head rapidly, eyes flickering around the room as if looking for a sign of the time. All he sees are three candles on a side table. There used to be five -he remembers having lit five- two have gone out and the other three are flickering near the end of their wicks. It must be late. “…No.”

Wei Ying releases a puff of air dramatically and leans back up, placing his hands on his hips. “Naughty boy,” he play chides “It’s well past your bedtime.” He continues in that mock admonishing tone, wagging his finger as he cautions “You’ve been disobedient again. Do you want your father to punish you?”

Sizhui opens and closes his mouth several times without any words coming out. He flicks his eyes over to Hanguang-Jun then back to Wei Ying. He’s not sure how to answer. How much did they see? They can’t have seen him play with the fire. If they had they would not be so composed. If they had seen, his fathers would be dragging him to the Jingshi right now not joke around, teasing him about bedtimes.

“A-Yuan?” Wei Ying frowns at him “Are you with us?”

Sizhui looks up at him and nods, heaving himself off the floor he smooths out his robes and fires away one of his softest smiles “Yes. I was reading, a lot happened today, I lost track of time.”

A little crease appear between Wei Ying’s brows and he looks unconvinced “Mmhmm” he hums “Yeah, you’ve had a busy day. We heard about Baoming’s class.”

Sizhui’s smile falters and his eyes snap up to quickly cast a surprisingly dark glance between Wei Ying and Wangji, it lasts only a second and then he looks away. “He was misinformed. I respectfully brought it to his attention. He did not acknowledge the correction and was much displeased with me questioning his authority on the subject. I was asked to leave, and I respected that decision.” He bows “I hope fathers will forgive me for arguing with a teacher and causing trouble.”

‘I’m pretty sure you don’t need Baoming’s class.’ Wei Ying thinks silently to himself. He shakes his head “We already met and spoke with Baoming and with Jingyi.”

Uh-oh. Sizhui looks up at him, he feels like there’s too much saliva in his dry mouth and he can’t swallow around it. He’s pretty sure he’s in trouble now. But it’s Hanguang-Jun who takes a step forward. “Sizhui is not at fault.” He voices clearly “And should not further concern himself with Lan Baoming.”

Sizhui’s eyes widen a little in surprise at that. Did his father just absolve him?

And then Hanguang-Jun extends his hand out and Sizhui is confused. “Hand me the book” he commands.

Sizhui blinks down at the empty outstretched palm. “Which book?” he asks, pretending not to know just which one Hanguang-Jun is asking for.

Hanguang-Jun closes his eyes for a brief second and exhales through his nose. In a quick move Wei Ying throws a talisman which sticks to the door and lights up as it activates and soundproofs the room. “You have something you’re not supposed to have, A-Yuan.” He says gravely “Give us ‘The teachings of Wen Mao’.”

One of the candles inside the room goes out as Sizhui ticks his eyes between his fathers. He contemplates saying ‘No’ but such blatant refusal might earn him a cuffing around the ear so he settles for asking, “Why can’t I have it?”

Hanguang-Jun lowers his hand and Wei Ying pulls back a little, giving Sizhui a meaningful look. It’s not like they hadn’t anticipated some resistance, and Sizhui deserves an explanation “You know why.”

That is not the explanation he deserves.

Parenting is hard. This fine line between push and pull. When to be strict and when to give leeway. How to guide gently but firmly. Wei Ying and Wangji worries. For several reasons. They're worried about Sizhui and they worry for him in relation to the rest of the world, it’s not a safe place to be a Wen.

Sizhui needs structure and stability. They need to make sure he knows he has solid ground under his feet. That they stand strong with open arms, ready to hold him and keep him steady when he falters and his world rocks.

They can’t take Sizhui’s pain away. He has the right to his thoughts, to his feelings. He has the right to bad days and the right to know the truth. As well as the right to ask questions and make decisions on what he wants to do. But they cannot let him endanger or harm himself in the process.

After some pause Sizhui releases a breath and reaches into his sleeve, pulling out the little book “This thing is really that dangerous?”

“It’s forbidden.” Hanguang-Jun informs, as if Sizhui didn’t already knew that. He frowns tucking the book to his chest “But—”

Wei Ying holds his hand out “Give us the book, A-Yuan. Do you understand what will happen if the wrong person sees you with that?”

“I have been careful.”

“You were seen.”

“By Jingyi. I trust Jingyi. I let my guard down.”

“And what if you let your guard down around the wrong person.”

“I won’t.” Why is he arguing back? He should respect and obey his fathers and do as they say. It’s one of the first, original rules up on that wall. 'Respect and obey your parents'. If his fathers had been the harsher kind they would have walloped him by now, he’s so lucky his fathers are the gentle type. He’s being disrespectful towards them, and instead of giving him a smacking right now they’re indulging him. They don’t even know half of what he’s done. If they did, maybe they would be giving him that smacking. Sizhui feels unworthy or their care, love and affection. He doesn’t deserve it. He's playing them.

“So you’re saying you don’t trust anyone else in Cloud Recess other than Jingyi?” Wei Ying quips easily and his words leave Sizhui snubbed. He tugs the book closer to his chest, averts his gaze and says nothing. Maybe Wei Ying is right, maybe Sizhui trusts no one, maybe he’s afraid, maybe he’s always subconsciously known he was the odd one out. Maybe— his head hurts. “Wen Mao was not Wen Rouhan” he mumbles. “And my fraction of the Wen clan were herbalists, cultivators of medicinal plants, healers, forgers of healing talismans and medical arrays. We were not—!”

Wei Ying interrupts him by shaking his head sadly “I know that, and you know that, but a lot of people will not make that distinction. They are narrow minded fools with usurped and inflexible ideals. They will not listen.” He presses stiffly “And there in lays the danger for you. Lan Zhan and I can get away with holding this book, it does not reflect on us. Lan Zhan is the second Jade of Lan and I’m, well, me. Frankly, the elders spend about 90 percent of their time actively trying to ignore the things I do.” Half a step behind him Hanguang-Jun nods. “But you are a Wen. And that is all they’ll see. Even if they don’t know who you are at the moment, they’re capable of two and two equals four. They will figure it out and when they do all they will see is a capable young Wen with strong cultivation, holding on to the writings of Wen Mao. They will be convinced you’re going to use it all to take back the throne and become the next Wen Rouhan.”

Sizhui tries not to laugh and the scoff gets stuck within his cheeks. “Have they even read it?”

“Of course they haven’t read it! And they never will. They’ve already made up their minds on what it says.”

There’s a pause and then— “Have you read it?” Sizhui gives Wei Ying a big-eyed look and Wei Ying melts a little inside “Parts of it,” he admits “But I never got through whole thing. Didn’t need to.”

“Sizhui!” Hanguang-Jun speaks up, effectually interrupting both whatever Sizhui had thought to say next and preventing Wei Ying from getting lost in bad memories. “This is non-negotiable, the decision is final. Hand over the book.” He rules and beckons more forcefully this time. Expression set firmly as he holds his hand out with clear expectancy. It’s a look which warns Sizhui against arguing any more.

Very reluctantly does Sizhui relinquish the book and hands it over to Hanguang-Jun, who slips it into his sleeve. “If you behave, you may come and read it in the Jingshi.” He says and Sizhui nods.

It’s fine, really. He’s already read it three times. Suddenly there’s a hand on his head, scratching his scalp and Sizhui looks up with big eyes. Wei Ying gives him a little wink and rubs harder “Are you having an angry day?” He asks openly, no accusation.

Sizhui shakes his head. He’s not sure “I don’t know.” He says quietly, finding a sort of soothing comfort in the way Wei Ying pets him like a kitten.

Wei Ying frowns and his fingers thread through Sizhui’s hair, twirling the locks. “It’s okay if you are. It’s okay to have angry days.” he says. “Does it have anything to do with what happened with Zhou Shengui at the sparring grounds earlier today?” Hanguang-Jun perks up sending them both a pointed look of surprise “What incident at the sparring ground?” he asks. Wei Ying shakes his head “Later.” He mouths.

Sizhui averts his eyes. “No. I don’t care about him.”

“That’s good.” Wei Ying says “If you’re being truthful that is” he adds quickly. “You shouldn’t pay him any attention. He’s trying to rile you up.” He leans down to cup Sizhui’s face, tilting it up a little, making him look him in the eyes.

Sizhui responds with just the slightest tug to lift the corner of his lips into a smile. “I know that, Papa.” He says softly.

Wei Ying releases an exhale of relief “Good boy. Now,” he straightens up and pats Sizhui on the back before grabbing his shoulders and beginning to steer him out of the library. “Let’s get you back to the dormitories. You’re supposed to be in bed. Jingyi will be waiting for you, so you can complain about us to your heart’s content when you get back to him.”

Sizhui tilts his head as far back as he can, trying to get a look at Wei Ying “Why would I do that?” He asks honestly. Wei Ying responds by letting go and throwing an arm around his shoulders, tugging Sizhui close to his chest, which makes walking more difficult. “Sometimes you’re so sweet I want to hug you and squeeze you ‘til you pop!” he rubs his cheek against the top of Sizhui head. And Sizhui can’t help the awkward little laugh escaping him. Wei Ying can be so ridiculous sometimes.

Hanguang-Jun follows a step behind. Holding himself tall and imposing with his regular dignified posture -one arm behind his back, the other resting on Bichen- as he shepherds over his family. A bare smile tugs his lips when no one can see.

Sizhui let’s himself be manoeuvred in the direction of the dorms. He has no choice. It’s past curfew and he does not have permission to be outside. He’s underage and only allowed to be out ‘til seven without his fathers chaperoning him. And, seven was clearly several hours ago. He really lost time.

When his fathers drop him off the matron greets them by the entrance. The old woman looks relieved to see them but says nothing, only smiles at Sizhui and bows to Hanguang-Jun and Wei Ying, thanking them for taking care of him and bringing him back safely. Sizhui bids his fathers good night and Wei Ying replies in earnest by placing a smarting kiss on his forehead, -In front of matron Xiuyan!- and Sizhui makes a barely audible noise of protest and flushes a little. Much to the utter delight of both Wei Ying and the matron, who sends him a sparkling smile, her eyes wrinkling in the corners.

After waving his fathers off Matron Xiuyan follows him back to his room. She doesn’t usually do things like that, unless she thinks someone needs extra comfort. She’s always been a bit like a grandmother to all the kids in the dorms. Available at all hours, she sometimes nursed them when they were sick -if they had no one else-, made sure they took their medicine, had their baths, wore clean clothes, had their things in order, sang to them whenever one of them had a nightmare or if it was someone’s first days at dorms and they missed their families. She taught them how to mend their clothes and she kept tabs on them. She always knew who was in the dorms and who hadn’t gotten back yet. Every evening she would wait diligently by the entrance -without fail- and count them in one by one until she had the full flock. 

Now she has her eyes on Sizhui. She asks him if he’s had a good day, if his fathers are kind to him and if he gets along with them. She carefully asks him how he feels about Wei Wuxian being with Hanguang-Jun and Sizhui makes a point of referring to them as ‘Papa’ and ‘Father’ when he responds. He does not need to say any more than that, she understands and gives him a genuine smile, asking if he wants a cup of tea or something light since he missed dinner. Sizhui bows and thanks her but declines, he’s tired, he wants to go to bed.

Jingyi is asleep, fully clothed and on top of the covers with an open book in his hand. He looks like he dropped where he sat. He probably did. Sizhui smiles ruefully and decides not to wake him. He gets a spare cover, removes the book, sticks it under his arm and tucks Jingyi in. The desk is slammed with piles of disorganized papers and Sizhui quickly eyes through it. Logs, requisitions, records, supply lists, inventory files. Everything already has Hanguang-Jun’s or the Grandmaster’s sign and stamp but requires Jingyi’s final signature. Jingyi doesn’t even have to sign, his only task as “Acting Sect-leader” is to put his stamp on a few sheets of papers a week. He doesn’t even have to read any of them. All has been taken care of by Hanguang-Jun and Grandmaster Qiren. One simple stamp. It literally takes less than five minutes to do all of this, and still not a single file is signed. Sizhui sighs and neatly arranges the files into a single pile. He could take Jingyi’s stamp and just do all of it -Jingyi wouldn’t mind- but he’s not going to. Jingyi has one obligation and Sizhui is not going to do it for him.

He puts Jingyi’s book next to the files then quickly gets changed and crawls into bed. Maybe if he falls asleep, he can pretend this whole day was a fever dream. The last thing Sizhui does before falling asleep is reaching up, delicately touching that spot on his forehead were Wei Ying’s kiss ‘Good night’ still lingers, radiating warmth and affection.

Or maybe that’s just his imagination, or wishful magical thinking…

OXXXO

After having made sure Sizhui got back without a hitch and sent him off with a good night wish, Wei Ying skips a few steps ahead up the gravel path and spins on his heels, giving Wangji a coy smile. "Walk with me, Lan Zhan?" He chirps with a wink.

"Always." Wangji nods passively. Together they silently make their way across Cloud Recess in the dark. Heading back to the Jingshi at leisure pace. Quietly content in each other’s presence. They stop at the moon bridge.

Wei Ying leans out over the railing. Watching how the gently moving water under the bridge wrinkles the reflection of the clear darkened sky above. There’s pressure in the silence between them and the longer it stretches the heavier it gets. “Did you see that, Lan Zhan?" He asks, suddenly sounding unusually grave. Wangji only glances stoically at the moon -or maybe it's Wei Ying’s ass, hard to tell the difference- "mmm" He hums.

Wei Ying turns around, slouching back with his elbows on the railing, -cutting off Wangji sight of the moon. Bummer.- "The candle went out when he blinked."

Wangji hums again.

"It responded to his emotions." Wei Ying shakes his head in response to Wangji's silent question and his inability to stay still for longer than 30 seconds forces him to turn around again. Gazing up at the waxing moon. "I'm not sure what to make of it, Lan Zhan."

Wangji’s moon is full again. He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head rapidly 'focus, Wangji!' He tells himself. "What should be done?"

"True Wen fire is blood bound. I don’t know much about it, I may need to consult Wen Ning. He might have some insight." Wei Ying shakes his head. "True Wen fire isn't the fire madness we all became so accustomed to, no matter what you've been told. It's more than that. It’s heat, warmth and the ability to manipulate both the internal and already existing flames. It was originally tamed for the sake of providing safety, giving comfort in the cold, light in the dark, healing through the life spark."

“Mmm” Wangji hums in understanding. “How come Sizhui’s Wen fire is powerful enough to manifest as it did today?”

Wei Ying sighs almost dramatically “Because it’s a blood bound ability, Lan Zhan” He teases with juvenile glee, tipping his head far enough back to catch Wangji’s eyes, almost bending himself back over. “Just like your silencing spell, arm strength and stamina.” He explains as if talking to a child.

As if Wangji didn’t already know that. “Powerful blood bound abilities are only carried in true linages.” He states matter-of-factually.

Wei Ying snaps back up and spins around on his heels facing Wangji again. “…Heh, well” He chortles with a sheepish grin that makes him look slightly off kilter. “about that—”

“Wei Ying!”

He tuts and sighs sadly “…A-Yuan was the only child among the Wen remnants, why do you think that was?”

“He was the only survivor.” It’s painful to think about this. What must have happened to all the others.

“More than that, they did everything in order to keep him alive.” Wei Ying’s gaze turns grave for a second and then he sighs sadly and sets a forlorn gaze on the moon “…Because A-Yuan has the blood of Wen Mao.”

Wangji chokes on that and stares in surprise, mouth dropped and eyes widened. He collects himself quickly. “Does Sizhui know about this?” he asks, voice mellow and calm trying not to show how much this information bothers him. Because it just made things a lot more complicated.

“I don’t know.” Wei Ying shrugs “But considering the interest he’s shown in Wen Mao I’m guessing he knows.”

 OXXXO

Sizhui wakes up early the next morning. It must still be night hours because the darkness is still seemingly creeping through the walls and radiating from the deep corners of their room. He feels hot, like he’s been holding his hands too close to the furnace. Just like he used to as a child, until Hanguang-Jun picked him up and put him down a little further away from the heat source with a warning not to get too close or he might burn himself.

He smiles at the memory; his throat feels oddly strained.

Sizhui is fully awake now. Going back to sleep like this won’t happen so he heaves himself up, not really sure what to do until the gong. Maybe visit his garden, see if the Valarian shoots he planted last week have taken root, give the ginseng some water. But he can’t leave the dorm before the gong so he’s going to have to find something else to occupy his time with. Maybe— His heart leaps in his chest when he sees Jingyi. Fully awake, fully clothed, sitting cross-legged on top of his covers, staring at Sizhui through the dark. He has lit a small side candle and it gives glow under his steely shining eyes but does not provide light for much else.

How long has he been sitting there?

Sizhui opens his mouth to say something in greeting. To ask Jingyi if something is wrong, why is he sitting in the dark like this? But he finds he can’t move his lips. They’re like glued shut. Sound catches in his throat.

The silencing spell!

What. In. The—!

Jingyi blinks hard and Sizhui finds his voice in a gasp that lightens the world and feels like a weight off. Reducing the strain on his throat.

“Sorry” Jingyi says flatly “I had to. You did it again.” He gestures artlessly at Sizhui’s side of the room.

There’s a pause as Sizhui, confused, tries to read what lies hidden in that hand motion before he looks down and his eyes go wide. There’s a seared hole in his mattress. Two actually -on either side of him-. In the perfect forms of handprints.

And, it stinks. His whole side of the room reeks of smoke and charred padding. Sharp, pungent and rank. He curls his nose up against the mordant stench, but it invades, stings in his eyes and finds its way down his throat, he can taste it! Sizhui gags and Jingyi dives for his pillow, holding it like a shield.

Sizhui gives him a perplexed look and Jingyi points expressly at the ceiling while lowering his pillow shield. Sizhui tips his head back and is greeted with the sight of the commonly white wooden boards charred black by soot. "...Uhm—” He swallows, wets his dry lips “…what happened?"

"I dunno, the smell woke me." Jingyi shrugs simply. “I don’t know what you did or how you did it.” He seems uneasily reserved, keeping his gaze directly off Sizhui’s eyes. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to fix it.”

“Paint.” Sizhui suggest in an awkwardly light-hearted attempt at… he’s not sure. All he knows is that he doesn’t like the despondent air coming off and surrounding Jingyi. It doesn’t suit him to seem so burdened and defeated. As if on cue, a few rather large flakes of burnt wood peels off the ceiling and lands on his blanket.

Jingyi gives him a long, sombre examining look, as if he’s trying to figure out what to make of everything. “Sizhui,” he starts sincerely “I don’t know what’s going through your head or your heart, and I’m not sure I can ever understand, but if you want to talk about it, I promise I’ll listen.” He pauses “…Maybe if you talk about it, stuff like this will cease to happen.” 

Sizhui can’t. He just can’t. Even if he could put his erratic thoughts and feelings into words, he can’t burden Jingyi with any of it. He’s not even sure how much Jingyi knows -or how much he thinks he knows- or what he risks by talking. Sizhui spends his days trapped in this turmoil of confusion and frustration. With himself. With the universe at large. With… all of it is just Karfloopric, that is not a word, he’s making up his own now. He’s angry and sad and sometimes he feels strangely hollow. Sometimes he wants to scream and cry and watch the world burn, sometimes he wants to bury himself in the soil with the worms and never come back up and sometimes he wants to run away as fast as his legs can carry him.

Delicately, he shakes his head in response to Jingyi’s offer, maybe he’s pushing Jingyi away. It’s for his own good really. Sizhui is stirring up trouble for himself and he knows it. When he goes down it’s better for Jingyi to not be involved in any of it.

“…Have you at least tried talking to Hanguang-Jun and Master Wei?”

Sizhui is not quite sure how to respond to that, so he doesn’t. “Please don’t tell them about this.” Is all he says.

“I won’t. …I only told them about your nightmares.”

That’s fine. Sizhui has always had night terrors -it’s no secret- but he never remembered what they were about before. He does now, at least partially. There’s still something in his nightmares he can’t touch, something just out of reach.

“And,” Suddenly guilty looking Jingyi averts his gaze. “I told them about that book.”

Sizhui heaves a sigh “I figured you had told them about it. Hanguang-Jun made me hand it over.”

“Oh. Did you get in trouble? Because of the book. That’s why you came back so late?”

Sizhui shakes his head. “No, I lost track of time in the library. That’s where they found me.”

“Of course.” Jingyi sort of rolls his eyes. “Did you get scolded for what happened in class?”

“No. I thought I would get in real trouble for that but they didn’t really say anything about it other than that I shouldn’t concern myself with Lan Baoming.”

Jingyi gapes “If I had done what you did in class and my mother was informed, she would be coming flying over that mountain to slap me silly!”

Sizhui snorts, Jingyi makes it sound like an exaggeration but it isn’t. The mighty Lan Kexin was not a woman to aggravate. She was Grandmaster Qiren’s first cousin and -just like Jingyi- her blood relation to Qiren was undeniable. Sizhui knew Lan Kexin to be kind but no push-over. She had come storming over the top of that mountain several times after Jingyi had done something stupid, or when he had been hurt or sick. She always came with some form of scolding and presents. Once when Jingyi had broken his arm during practice she had shown up, lightly scolded Jingyi for not being more careful -after having made sure he would make a full recovery-, dropped a Jasmine scented fragrance balm in Sizhui lap and then pulled Qiren’s ear. Much to the utter delight of Hanguang-Jun. He’d obviously shown no outward sign of even recognizing Lan Kexin’s presence but Sizhui can read his father well enough to know when he takes pleasure in something.

“You’re so lucky” Jingyi continues “I’m starting to think you could get away with anything. I’m a little jealous actually you get to have such kind parents. Don’t misunderstand! I love my mother! …but Hanguang-Jun and Master Wei are special.”

He’s right.  Sizhui is lucky to have such gentle, affectionate and caring fathers. Sure, they can be strict. Both his fathers can be very strict -in different ways- and stern when they want him to listen, but they are never unduly harsh with him and he’s sure that if he tried talking to them -asked for some of their time- they would be patient with him. But what’s the point? He has no words for what’s going on inside. All he’d end up doing is waste their precious time. Time they could be spending together rather than having to sit and listen to Sizhui make a mess out of a folly. After everything that happened, and the last thirteen years, his fathers deserve to have all their time -between work and commitments- for each other. Sizhui doesn’t want to be an unnecessary burden. Not on his fathers, not on Jingyi…

When Sizhui looks up a wistful little wrinkle have appeared between Jingyi’s brows. “Just talk to them. Okay? They’re worried about you.” He says deliberately, averting his eyes “…I’m worried about you.” He adds in a murmur, but Sizhui still hears it. He ignores it.

There’s tick, a second’s aborted eye-contact and then Jingyi springs up from his bed so fast Sizhui’s heart takes another leap. “I’m going to class!” He clips curtly “Are you coming?”

Sizhui remains quiet as his heart settles, and the silence drags out between them. He stares down at the floorboards in front of Jingyi's feet without really seeing them. His tongue has gone oddly numb, and his head feels hollow. There’s no way Sizhui can find his voice. He shakes his head again. Jingyi releases a broken, aborted frustrated sound and turns on his heels, leaving the room.

Sizhui is confused. Qiren’s class doesn’t start for another three hours. And the morning gong still hasn’t sounded. What is Jingyi going to do?

Jingyi’s little candle goes out and their room is swept into pitch darkness again. Sizhui tips his head, all he has to do is imagine the little flame as it was, and the candle burns again.

He fixates on it. The tiny darting flame, moves it with his will… Honestly, Sizhui’s not sure where he’s at today. He’s not angry, but he wasn’t yesterday either and yet he ended up doing the things he did. He wants to be okay. He thought he was. He thought he dealt with the pain, got it out of his system when he cried in the burial mounds and at Nighless city with Uncle Ning. On their way back they had been happy and content. Talked about their clan’s healing cultivation, gone over the books and scriptures they had found. Bought seeds and picked samples of medicinal herbs and medical plants to bring with them back to Cloud Recess so Sizhui could start his garden.

But evidently, the pain has not been released.

Knowing is better than not knowing but not knowing was so much easier.

OXXXO

Lan Wangji is having a rather trying time, overall. There’s the pressure from Uncle and the elders to handle his brother’s affairs as sect leader. Which Wangji blatantly refuses to do. He’s not sect leader nor does he ever wish to be. He’s fine with the position he holds. But his responsibility to his sect does concern him. However, he refuses to take on the full duties, splitting with Uncle to give them both respite seems only fair. Until brother returns from his seclusion.

It also takes some load off Jingyi’s shoulders. Which he feels the need to do because apparently Uncle has no qualms about pushing what inconveniences him into the arms of an ill prepared child.

However, taking on the full responsibility would take up too much of his time. And frankly he had never been prepared for the role nor does he have the necessary qualities to perform it adequately. He does not have the personality of a sect leader. Wangji has agreed to handle external affairs and major incidents. While Uncle handles internal matters and everyday sect business, including meetings with other sect officials. Wangji understands Uncle’s reluctance, they’re the same in a way. Uncle never wanted sect leader duties but he took them on when his own brother failed their sect, all while simultaneously teaching classes -his real passion- and caring for his two baby nephews. It must have been a huge ordeal. Wangji is not unimpressed.

Wangji is also not Uncle.

He understands and accepts his responsibilities to his sect but not without making clear to the elders and Uncle that he has a much more important and greater responsibility to take care of his family. Wei Ying and Sizhui are Wangji’s number one concern, they will always come first. He's got a husband and a son to worry about. Lan Wangji is an adult who is going to silently protest what uncle and the elders have dumped on him by doing the bare minimum amount of work required of him.

It's already well into the afternoon but Wei Ying is still napping on the daybed with his robe split open in a way that’s rather undignified at this hour. It’s perhaps not unsurprising, Wangji knows Wei Ying is still struggling with a sense of belonging. With feeling like he stole something he cannot ever give back and Wangji -perhaps selfishly so- doesn’t want him too, does not think it’s even possible. Mo Xuanyu's body may not be Wei Ying's original one but it had been freely given -even if one could argue Mo Xuanyu's mental capacity, or lack thereof, to make such a decision on his own-

Wei Ying has always been good at compartmentalising -or rather displacing- his feelings. He throws himself into his little projects and lives through the process in order to not have to think or feel what's really troubling him. He can't really do that here, now. The elders won't allow him much freedom to engage his whims and desires. So sleeping may be a way to escape his own head for a while.

Sizhui too, is struggling. He hasn't mentioned anything, but Wangji knows. Sizhui has been acting strange as of lately. It is not unexpected. He has a whole new identity to accept, to try to figure out everything he now remembers and how and what to feel. And also what he wants to do. It may take him months to sort himself out, or years. Whatever decisions Sizhui comes to in the end Wangji will support, as long as they are not harmful to Sizhui or others.

He has already admitted to them once that he's frustrated because he’s feeling so much he doesn’t know what to feel or think. What Sizhui needs is time to sort and puzzle the pieces of his new self together. That was before his trip with Wen Ning and ever since his return he's been distracted, distant and quiet.

Sizhui is obviously hurting.

There’s a small pile of letters on the top left side corner of Wangji’s desk, letters sent to inform him of Sizhui’s absence from, or behaviour during class. It seems he’s been skipping classes, shown up late, appeared disinterested and even argued back and been asked to leave once. It's concerning and very unlike Sizhui to behave in such a way.

Wangji allows him some leeway, always has. Now more than ever because Sizhui is struggling with something most people would be unable to comprehend and he needs a gentle and understanding hand to guide him across a rather wide bridge not a harsh, uncompromising hand dragging him down a narrow one way road.

However, Wangji must draw the line for what behaviours he's willing to tolerate somewhere, which is what he’d done after the incident the other night, at the library, when he’d told Sizhui to go to the infirmary and get examined by the healers and the boy had neglected to comply. The moment Sizhui put his own health and well-being at risk was the moment Wangji put his foot down and gave the boy a harsh scolding. It was over the underlying rationalization more than the specific act of noncompliance. A sore throat may not be a big deal on the grand scale of things, it's not life or death but the next time Sizhui ignores an instruction to get medical treatment it could be and Wangji cannot have him think it's okay to treat his life with such insignificance. It’s an unfortunate trait he got from his papa. Wei Ying knows so too which is why seeing Sizhui’s lack of self-preservation -masked as perceived selflessness- breaks Wei Ying’s heart, he feels responsible for making the boy that way.

Wangji had tried to take it out of A-Yuan but unfortunately he’s not much better himself. He too is known for ignoring injuries and illness in favour of soldiering on and children tend to do as adults do not as they say. Sizhui is only acting in the same way the adults in his life acts.

The brush in his hand snaps in two. Now that's a terrifying thought. Sizhui must not learn to act like them! He’s still so young! There's still time to teach him better!

His musings are interrupted by the trilling tune of a songbird playing from the windowsill and Wangji turns to watch the colourful little thing skitter about just as Wei Ying rolls and drops out of bed with a heavy cut off groan.

"What time is it?" He smacks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and draws a hand through his hair to pull it from his face. Damn adorable!

Wangji sweeps the broken brush into the trash and retrieves a new one from the stand. "Dinner will be in a while, if you are hungry there are fruits, nuts and leftover teacakes on the table."

Wei Ying helps himself. Drags himself across the floor in the most overdramatic way, giving Wangji another full moon view. It’s quite alluring… but it’s too early for… ‘Get back to work!’ Wangji thinks to himself. There’s enough of it to keep him occupied for a few days, and he needs to finish before dinner.

The next letter he picks up bears the signs of having travelled far, the envelope is weather-stained, and Wangji does not recognize the name of the original sender or the stamp. It is from far away and has passed several hands before reaching him. Underneath the short message Sect Leader Su, Sect Leader Yao, Sect Leader Nie and Sect Leader Ouyang have all left their stamps and signatures before sending it on.

“What’s wrong, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying lobs a cherry pit at him and it bounces off the desk and on to the floor.

Wangji sighs and folds the letter “reports of foul winds in the south.”

Wei Ying frowns “Anything we need to be concerned about?”

“To early to say.” Wangji will share the contains of the letter with Uncle and the elders, have it signed by Jingyi and then forward it to Sect Leader Jiang. It would perhaps be better to put a halt on all planed night-hunts until they have a clearer picture of the situation. Foul winds could mean a lot, or possibly nothing.

Next is a report from the healers.

There’s a situation with Lan Baoming. Wangji skims the report. It should have gone to Uncle. It’s internal affairs, but Uncle is a master at finding ways to dump things over on Wangji. He’ll say this is Wangji’s because Lan Baoming is a guest lecturer. Apparently, he must have made a face because Wei Ying asks "What's the matter Lan Zhan?" and Wangji gives of an untellable hum, finishing reading the report. It seems Baoming had become violently ill shorty after teaching his class yesterday. The healers concluded he was poisoned, probably through food.

Wangji couldn’t care less. Food poisoning happens. He stamps the report with his seal and puts it in the 'to be archived' pile. "Lan Baoming has food poisoning" He informs. Wei Ying snorts. "Serves him right! What goes around comes around." He scowls and pops another cherry "Karma and all that." Baoming makes him see red. The way that man had spoken of A-Yuan was more than enough for Wei Ying to wish to bury him in a pile of corpses. Honestly, only Lan Zhan’s presence had hindered him from calling forth… something.

It was his class Sizhui had gotten thrown out of. Wangji had ignored the incident, for two reasons, Sizhui is not required to take the class, especially not now, and because of the run in he and Wei Ying had with Baoming shortly after the fact. The incident which had permanently placed Baoming on both Wangji’s and Wei Ying’s blacklist, in bold underlined.

Wei Ying lobs another kernel across the room and out the window with a bit more force than usual. Wangji watches it fly “Do not throw food.” He chides. And Wei Ying slouches back “Why so stringent, Lan Zhan?” he pouts “if we’re lucky I might grow a cherry tree outside.”

Wangji rolls his eyes. Maybe. Kind of. In a very Lan Wangji way.

Wei Ying gloats “If we get a shoot we can give it to A-Yuan to cultivate in his garden. It will be our love tree! I’ll name it Yingtao and I’ll let you do things to me under it!”

With red ears Wangji chooses to ignore the rant, favouring his work.

“Speaking of A-Yuan,” Wei Ying starts, pulling a plate of peanuts towards himself with a finger “have we received any more notifications?”

Wangji nods, sweeping his hand at the three notes lying on the top right corner of his desk. Wei Ying squints his eyes and peers over at them -unless he has the eyesight of a hawk, there’s no way he can read what they say from that distance, even if he squints- “Anything serious?” he asks and Wangji shakes his head lightly “Skipping classes.” He replies while picking up his brush, quickly writing a follow-up note to the report in his hand. “From what I have gathered he seems to prioritize Uncle’s lectures but has only attended his other classes sporadically.”

“Should we have a talk with him?”

Wangji sighs and after a second’s pause, he replies with “Let’s give him a few more days.”

Wei Ying tips his head and nips at his knuckle, glancing inscrutably at Wangji, he finally settles on saying “…You are so lenient, Lan Zhan.”

“Sizhui is going through a difficult time.”

“Yes,” Wei Ying nods “Which is why we must be attentive and provide him with steady and firm guidance.”

Wangji looks up, turning to him “He needs stability, security and a wide bridge until he finds his balance.”

Wei Ying blinks “We cannot let him stray too much off path. He is confused, there’s a lot going through his head right now, without defined boundaries he will be even more confused and the risk of spiralling becomes too great. He cannot be getting mixed or uncertain messages from us at this time. We must be on the same page when we deal with him, what he’s allowed and what we will not tolerate.”

Wangji hums and turns back to his oddly, seemingly increasing pile of letters. “He’s not allowed to endanger or harm himself.”

Wei Ying frowns woefully, eyes narrowing at the back of Wangji’s head, as he twirls a peanut between his fingers. It slips away from him and spins off, landing on the floor “…harm isn’t just physical, Lan Zhan.”

Wangji pauses. “…I know, which is why we must be vigilant.”

 OOXXXOO

One or two quiet days pass. There’s a confrontation between Lan Baoming and Sizhui in the library reading hall. Or, it’s not so much a showdown as a silent exchange of more or less savoury glances.

Baoming has taken his class to look at some historical examples of conflicts and how they had been peacefully resolved through politics and clever diplomacy.

Sizhui has been skipping classes, again. Hiding out in his little back room with his books and his candles. He had snuck out of Cloud Recess the other day and gone down to the market in town and bought everything there –because that way he wouldn’t have to account for anything with the resource department, making everything he used untraceable-. He had also found a hand-me-down set of ceramic medicine bottles which he decided to buy and bring to Uncle Ning next time he visited.

Sizhui only left his hideout because he -out of a whims interest- needed a reference on a talisman supposedly used to quench severe haemorrhage and suddenly Baoming and his classmates where all right there.

Baoming pulls himself tall in order to seem imposing, authoritative and maybe even intimidating. Sizhui is regularly more intimidated by Wei Ying’s cooking. Baoming looks him up and down with snarling glare. “I have not seen you in my class these past few days. I assume that is because Hanguang-Jun did not spare the leather.” He barely manages to contain the smirk.

A flash image passes over Sizhui’s eyes; he sees himself whacking this scumbag over the head with a large blunt guqin-shaped object. He knows he’s supposed to bow, show respect to a senior, but that’s not going to happen. Sizhui refuses to bow to the likes of this swine. He grabs the scroll he wants off the shelf and turns back with a sweetly forged smile and cunning half-lidded eyes as he casts Baoming a knowing glance. “I see they let you out of the infirmary. Couldn’t stand the smell of you, I’m told. I heard you ruined all your robes and half the bed sheets in Cloud Recess.” He says deliberately loud, and with a level of wide-eyed mock innocence worthy of Wei Ying.

“You!” Baoming turns an interesting shade of red and raises his arm. “Insolent!” Sizhui stands his ground, holds Baoming’s glare. A squelching sound echoes in his ears, a white sleeve stained with dark splatter sweeps across his vision holding a dripping sword coated in thick red— “Sizhui!”

He blinks. The scene dissipates like a very vivid day-dream and Sizhui comes to sitting on the floor, the scroll clutched tightly to his chest. It feels like something is speeding through his bloodstream. Something that sparks and fizzles. His heart thumps loud and rapid in his ears. Jingyi has crouched down next to him, Sizhui is leaning against his chest as Jingyi holds him secure and supported between his arms. Sizhui blinks again. There’s a wall of disciples separating him and Baoming, he recognizes the backs of Lan Haulin, Nie Yanyi, Zun Xieyin, the Tzu twins and Mu Dong all using their own bodies and presences to block Baoming who is now being escorted out by two library attendants.

Sizhui blinks a third time and Jingyi’s embrace tightens, his finger’s digging into Sizhui’s arms. “Are you with me?” he asks “You looked like you were about to faint. I think you did.”

Sizhui feels strange. Not light-headed but… floaty? …like he wants to close his eyes and soar away. His ears are buzzing. Leaning his head on Jingyi’s chest is relaxing, calming that fizzling spark rushing through his meridians.

Jingyi places a hand on Sizhui’s elbow and pushes with the other around his shoulders trying to get him back up on his feet. “Come on. Let me help you up.” He coaxes “I’ll take you to the infirmary.”

A visible jolt passes through Sizhui. He can’t go to the infirmary! If he does, his fathers will be informed. He will cause them trouble and make them worry. He pushes away and pulls out of Jingyi’s comforting hold while shaking his head. “No need. I’m alright, no need to bother the healers.”

“…Sizhui?”

“I’m going back to the dormitory to rest. I do not need a healer, I’ll just lie down for a bit. Please do not inform Hanguang-Jun.”

Jingyi frowns bitterly. “Fine.” He says, he’s going play all his cards on a technicality. As soon as Sizhui is out of sight he borrows a paper from Nie Yanyi and forges a note for Master Wei.

OOXXXOO

Later, the very same day Wei Ying seeks out Jingyi -his own endless source of interpersonal Lan-clan information-. He finds him in the moving meditation garden doing rounds with a rake in the white sand. Wei Ying takes a seat on the steps leading down to the garden and watches the boy finish up his rounds. Jingyi does not seem to notice him at first. Not until after he’s done and leans on the rake with a content sigh. “Master Wei” he beams.

“Who is Lan Baoming?”

Jingyi blinks at him “Ah, well,” He flops down next to Wei Ying on the steps “He’s a Lan in title only. His mother was sixth cousin with Grandmaster Qiren’s and Qingheng-Jun’s father, or something like that, I’m not really sure. He was born as Zhang but because of his distant blood relation to the Lan family he could be rewarded the name Lan if he committed enough honourable deeds in the name of the sect. Which he did through his actions during and following the Sunshot campaign. He’s been in charge of the diplomatic administrations’ office in Moling for well over a decade because he was the one who negotiated relative calm between the Lan and Su sects after the war.”

Wei Ying nods “Ah, I see. I don’t like him.”

“Neither do I. After it was announced he would receive the name Lan someone from the main family had to make a courtesy visit to congratulate him. Hanguang-Jun was… out of commission, Zewu-Jun was tied up in the hole Qishan debacle” Jingyi makes a few vague hand movements in the air to indicate the basic chaos of the situation. “and old man Qiren was busy managing the rebuild of Cloud Recess so it fell on my mother—”

“Wait,” Wei Ying sits up a little straighter “I don’t think I’ve ever asked what your relation to the Lan clan is. You’re main family, I can tell from the headband, but who are you really?”

Jingyi chuckles a little at him, as if he finds Wei Ying’s ignorance adorable. “My mother is Lan Kexin.”

“Heh! Old man Qiren’s cousin!?”

“First cousin” Jingyi corrects.

“So, the old man’s uncle is your grandfather?

Jingyi looks momentary confused, as if he’s going something over in his head. “I guess” He says finally.

“Which makes you—”

“Insurance.”

“Huh?”

“It seems old man Qiren didn’t trust his nephews to sire off-spring, so he and my mother came up with a plan to secure the continuation of the main bloodline and the control of the sect by having a sect heir produced. My father’s name was Lu Tang, a scribe at the Lan sect administrative office in Laling. He and mother where sweet on each other but separated by standing.”

“Oh, once again with the forbidden romancing.” Wei Ying replies giddily. “You Lan’s are just a cornucopia of twisted love tales.”

Jingyi sends him a sharp look “Do not tell Zizhen!” he orders. “Anyway, long story short, he was allowed to be with my mother if he swore to never claim me as his. Well, he agreed to those terms and-” He gestures towards himself “Tada!”

Wei Ying grins a little awkwardly “well, that’s… interesting.”

“It is, isn’t it? I mean, what was stopping Qiren? Don’t misunderstand, I’m glad to be alive but sometimes I question what was stopping Qiren from having kids?”

“Maybe he can’t get it up” it slips out before Wei Ying can stop himself. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, he hadn’t even meant to think it but sometimes that brain to mouth filter of his fails miserably. Beside him poor Jingyi has grabbed on to his arm and is turning a rather interesting shade as he struggles not to burst out laughing. The muscles of his young face contorting and fingers digging painfully into Wei Ying bicep as his body twists. “Not in the meditation garden” he wheezes.

Wei Ying pats him on the head “there, there. What happened to your parents? Where are they now?”

The question seems to sober Jingyi up quicker than any barrel of freezing water could “My father is dead” he replies curtly.

Wei Ying winces, once again he’s stepped in the dog shit. “…I’m sorry.”

Jingyi shakes his head as if to absolve him of any need to apologize “It was a long time ago. Father died before I was born, horse accident. Mother is grandmaster and teacher on the other side of the mountain. I lived with her until I was five, then I was brough here. You see, Master Wei, I was very young when mother brought me along to greet the soon to be Lan Baoming but I remember her mood at the time quite clearly.”

“So you don’t like him because your mother dislikes him?”

Jingyi shakes his head again, toeing the fallen rake on the ground by his feet “It’s not just that.” He bites his lip “I don’t like the way he looks at Sizhui, like he wants to watch him burn. It wasn’t as bad last time.”

“What do you mean?”

“Lan Baoming comes by Cloud Recess once every few years to teach diplomacy. He’s considered and authority on the subject. Last time he was here Sizhui and I took his introductory class. He treated Sizhui like any other Lan disciple that time, it was nothing like now, but I remember Sizhui regarded him with a great deal of hesitance. He was reluctant to be in Lan Baoming’s presence and kept himself in the back of the class, with his head down. He never spoke up once. When prompted to speak Sizhui would not respond but Baoming never forced him to back then. I think he just thought Sizhui was shy or took after Hanguang-Jun. I ended up telling him Sizhui had taken a vow of silence for the daylight hours” Jingyi stands, kicking the rake up with his foot and sets of for the shed.

Wei Ying spends a good few minutes mulling over the information he had provided.

“…You’re a good friend, Jingyi.” He says after a while.

Jingyi gives him a look somewhere between sceptical and hopeful. “You really think so? I told on Sizhui after I saw him reading ‘The teachings of Wen Mao’ and I told you about his behaviour in class, and how strange he’s been acting lately. Even if I only told you, I thought you’d see me as a tattle tale after that.”

“Does Sizhui?”

“…No, I don’t think so.”

“There you have it then.” Wei Ying shrugs, standing to smooth out a few wrinkles in his robes. “If you are concerned for a friend’s well-being you should never regret voicing that concern to a trusted adult. Lan Zhan and I are glad you came to us that time and all the other, for Sizhui’s sake.”

Jingyi seems to be chewing on the inside of his cheek “I… I only want to help Sizhui.” He says in earnest turning away from Wei Ying.

“…Jingyi?”

Jingyi jolts, spine straightening like a chord as he spins back around. “What!?”

Wei Ying watches him, tilts his head in contemplation and Jingyi begins to sweat “What?” he demands again, without heat this time. More desperation. Wei Ying’s lips twitches into a grin “Oh, you’re just like Lan Zhan.”

The tips of Jingyi’s ears turn bright red. He doesn’t know why but he suddenly gets the feeling Wei Wuxian can see right through him. “St..stop bothering me! I’ve got to go! I’ve got actual work to do! You’re holding me up.” He blurts out hotly before taking off in the direction of the cultivation hall with his robes billowing around him.

Wei Ying doesn’t even bother trying to supress his giggles, truly there’re few things as entertaining in Cloud Recess as teasing teenagers. They’re too easy. Teasing Qiren is even easier but much more dangerous. “I think we’re going to have to switch things up on the next night hunt, Lan Zhan.” He speaks to the breeze.

OOXXXOO

Sizhui plucks the set of strings on his guqin for what feels like the thousandth time, his fingertips are beginning to sting. Altering and harmonizing the note as he directs it out towards the little burning candle he has placed on the desk a meter away. Trying to get a reaction. He needs… it should be possible to do this! He tries again, adding less pressure on the final string and the flame finally responds, growing about ten times in size with a bright whoosh that sends him reeling backwards just as Jingyi sharply shoves their dorm room door open.

Jingyi blinks.

Sizhui blinks. Now lying half on his back with the guqin on top of him. Which is, safe to say, slightly awkward looking.

“What the—!” Jingyi slams the door shut -eight sets of talismans lighting up as it locks behind him- “Do you know what I had to do to clear up the ceiling!” he makes a frustrated motion with his hands and then his whole body and face falls dejectedly “could you at least keep the fire on ground level, my neck will thank you.”

Sizhui pulls himself up, folding his legs underneath him as he sits and gives Jingyi a courteous nod “I did not intend for the effect to be quite so extravagant.” He tips his head and smiles playfully “…But I do believe the ceiling was spared this time.”

Jingyi purses his lips and sends him a mock distrustful glare. “This time.” He grants.

Sizhui laughs shortly on an exhale, eyes sparkling with mirth and cheeks dimpling as the smile grows wider than usual. This is a part of his true self he keeps hidden, always restricted in front of others. Because, honestly Sizhui was never really comfortable around most people. He never knew why being around certain people made his skin feel cold, or his heart skip a beat faster, or got the fine little hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. Most adults, no matter how kind, had always made him want to curl in on himself and hide in the folds of Hanguang-Jun’s robes. He had made an effort to be as sweet and welcoming to people as possible because Sizhui had always supposed he was in the wrong for feeling uncomfortable.

He now understands why… it’s a horrible realisation, that makes far too many things make sense. For years he had been so utterly embarrassed about his reaction the first time a delegation from the Jin Clan came to visit Cloud Recess. It was Jin Guangyao’s first courtesy visit to Cloud Recess since becoming Sect Leader and he had come to greet Zewu-Jun. Sizhui and Jingyi had been six or seven, they were to greet the Jin guests along with the rest of the main Lan Clan. Sizhui had been standing one step behind Hanguang-Jun, and Jingyi one step behind Qiren, as the Jin’s arrived. They had been excited like only children can be -the Jin Clan was the richest, greatest and mightiest of all the Clans- Jingyi had literally been vibrating in his shoes. And then the Jin’s came through the gate and Sizhui can’t remember anything after that. All he knows is what he’s been told happened. Apparently he had peed on himself and fainted, crashing into the back of Hanguang-Jun’s knee. He woke up, feverish, in the Jingshi a night and a day later with a very anxious and worried looking Hanguang-Jun peering over him.

At the time Healer Lun Fu had said he suffered a heat stroke.

Nowadays Sizhui strongly suspects Lun Fu was lying. He's pretty sure it's impossible for a Wen to suffer heat stroke in Gusu.

Frostbite, Sure. But heat stroke, No.

Jingyi beams. Wide and bright, because Sizhui laughed at his attempt at light-hearted banter. He feels privileged to be one of the few allowed to see Sizhui’s genuine happy smiles. The ones that dimple his cheeks and lights up his face. Jingyis laugh is like his persona, loud and booming it resounds like a wrecking ball. “You should be glad we have the corner room and most of this hall to ourselves. If we had neighbours on the other side of that wall” he points randomly “they would be able to smell you lighting up the room every night!”

Sizhui’s laughter is clear and trilling. It rings around the room like a tone from a fine-tuned instrument. Jingyi thinks it’s beautiful. He loves listening to Sizhui laugh. “What were you trying to do, anyway? With your guqin and the candle?”

“I thought, maybe I could control it.”

“Your fire thing?” Jingyi cocks an eyebrow “Yeah? How is that working out for you?”

Sizhui all but refrains from sticking his tongue out at him “Theoretically it should be possible. The result, however, seems to have had the opposite effect to what I had intended.” He places the guqin on their desk “And I only just got started, this was my first attempt with the guqin. Maybe it’s not the right instrument for this… It is trial and error. It’s not like there’s anyone around who can train me in how to handle this. I’ve been practicing controlling it with my mind, consciously.”

Jingyi flops down next to him, elbow on the desk he supports his chin with the hand “So that’s what you been up to, instead of going to class.”  

Sizhui avoids Jingyi’s piercing steel eyes and busies himself with methodically wiping the guqin down “This is more important. If I can’t control it— I can’t risk another incident like that night. If it starts happening during the day… what if I can’t control it. I could hurt people. Hurt Cloud Recess.” His voice is reduced to a mere hopeless whisper by the end. He doesn’t want to say it out loud. He knows what Wen fire once did to the beautiful halls and pavilions and now he has brought it back with thoughtless disregard for the survivors.

“You could start by telling you fathers.” Jingyi advices and it takes Sizhui a surprising amount of effort not to grimace at the idea. He turns away in order to hide whatever expression finds its way on to his face.

Jingyi sighs loudly “I’m gonna keep telling you that. Because you know as well as I that it’s the right thing to do. …even if you’re not ready.” He heaves himself up and shuffles over to his side of the room “I hope you’ll be soon though. Your episodes are getting worse. And I don’t want to silence spell you again. I’m afraid you’ll tear out of it and rip open your lips.” He shudders. “Besides, Hanguang-Jun and Master Wei are no fools, they will find out sooner or later.” Jingyi slips out of his outer robes and starts digging through a drawer for a nightrobe. “They’ll probably go easier on you if you just tell them what’s going on before they figure it out on their own …that’s usually how that works. You might get in trouble but you’ll get it worse if they figure it out and realise you’ve been keeping it from them. Trust me on this.” He groans when he sees the stack of papers on his desk, ready for signing “Zewu-Jun better come out of seclusion soon, I hate this.” Jingyi mumbles to himself, pulling the stamp out and getting to work. “In my experience,” he says loudly, once again speaking to Sizhui “parents tend to really dislike when you keep things from them. Remember the time I broke my rib and didn’t write to tell my mother? And she found out at Qiren’s birthday banquet that year?” Jingyi glances up between stamping, casting Sizhui a meaningful look.

Sizhui nods, of course he remembers. The formidable Lan Kexin had gone from smiling like Zewu-Jun to a chilling terror descending on her son.

Jingyi is making sense. Of course, he is. Hanguang-Jun too never liked when Sizhui kept things from him either, especially things concerning his health. Like the time Sizhui sprained his wrist and didn’t say a word, just kept going on as if nothing was wrong. Holding a brush had been painful, he kept dropping his sword during practice. His wrist had been incredibly swollen by the end of every day, but he ignored it and hid it in his sleeve. It was only by chance Hanguang-Jun had found out; he had handed Sizhui a scroll to hold. That scroll ended up on the floor as Sizhui had his arm seized by Hanguang-Jun who inspected the swollen wrist, concluded the injury was several days old then grounded him for a fortnight.

But it’s not just him and Hanguang-Jun anymore. There’s Wei Ying to consider too and Sizhui never cared about getting in trouble or not. All he cares about is not being a bother, not causing his parents worry or concern, and telling them would do exactly that. The less they know the happier they’ll be. Without a word in response, he puts the guqin away, lets his hair down and takes off the headband, neatly rolling it up before getting his own nightrobe and crawling under the covers.

Sizhui turns to the wall, pushes at one of the wall panels and sticks his hand in the resulting hole, pulling out the little red stuffed toy. His tiger plush. He pets its head and hugs it tight. Imagining it smells like granny. Logically Sizhui knows that’s impossible, it spent thirteen years on the ground in the burial mounds. If it smells like anything, it’s soil. Honestly, it’s surprising it didn’t rot away… he has to blink tears away at the thought and hugs the toy a little tighter.

“I thought you might want to know,” Jingyi starts, making himself comfortable in bed “I found out today, Zhou Shengui is going to face discipline for that arrow he shoot at you a couple of days ago. Fifty hits with the ruler.”

Sizhui is not sure what to think about that. He doesn’t really care, he has enough on his plate. Physical punishments handed out by the Sect are unusual these days since Hanguang-Jun -who is still in charge of punishments- favours other types of discipline, such as copying rules or sentences, groundings, handstands, time outs or chores, he only hands out physical penances in extreme cases. Sizhui knows it wasn’t always like that but Hanguang-Jun had changed a lot in the last thirteen years. Physical discipline is more common in the domestic setting -between parent and child- but within the sect it’s rare to see. It’s a good thing. “And what about you?” he asks rolling over so he can face Jingyi.

Jingyi turns to him with a cheeky grin “Copy rule 467 two hundred times while in handstand. No biggie.” He sort of shrugs it off as if it means nothing, it probably doesn’t. Jingyi does not regret what he did in order to defend Sizhui. His punishment is an act for show, so the elders can’t accuse Hanguang-Jun of playing favourites.

Sizhui rolls over again, facing the wall, tugs the plush under his chin and closes his eyes.

The screaming starts again.

THE END CHAPTER 2

Chapter Text

Sizhui dreams.

Of blood and red tinted darkness. Of scorched earth and the smell of burning flesh. Of mud and blood and something that shrieks in the peripheries. It’s right there. It’s always been right there. Just out of sight, out of mind. It flaps its giant wings and whips the air up into a frenzy. Hot gusts that envelope him, seeps into him with every breath and causes him to choke. It is as if attempting to breathe in the hot air around a fire where the oxygen has already been burnt off.

It leaves him parched and gasping. Lungs screaming for sustenance. Yet, at the same time it feels so warm. Like the first kisses of the sun across his skin every spring. Revitalising him with energy that speeds along his meridians. It’s always been like this.

The sun.

The sun.

The sun.

It burns so hot, so warm, so bright. Sizhui is drowning in it.

It shrieks again. It’s right there, right outside his field of vision. Coming closer. It sweeps in, it is right there. And for the first time he sees it. Majestic and formidable. It burns bright in its glory. Whitens his vision. A flaming feather graces his cheek and Sizhui screams. It shrieks. And once again the world is transformed into a bright flash.

When he opens his eyes, he’s outside in the silence under the moon. Somewhere in the back mountains, far away from the dorms, at the edge of a cliff above one of the pools. He can hear purling water somewhere down below and the distant call of a nightly Loon resounding through the dark. The crisp air around him feels charged, little sparks that glister in the darkness like flecks of ember trickling down as fine rain. Specks of orange glitter reflected in the clear water of the pool beneath, as if mirroring the burning stars in the dark sky above. Sizhui’s arm twitches as he listlessly reaches for one of the little embers floating in the air. He wants to touch it, an almost obsessive desire to feel its lifeful little spark across his skin. His eyes widen in shock at the sight of his fingers, once again coated in black soot. The scream still tastes like iron on his lips and Sizhui stumbles away from edge, falls down and his eyes roll back.

When he wakes up again it’s to the breeze trickling a few strands of grass across his cheek and the sight of a fat bumblebee buzzing in on small white flower right next to ear. His nightrobes have pooled around him, splayed out across the ground. And the fabric gets dragged through the soil as Sizhui slowly pulls himself up, sits wide on his knees, like a child. It’s an unbecoming, shameful position to sit in but to hell with that, it’s comfortable.

Everything feels a bit confusing, like his brain cannot connect the single pieces of information it’s being offered. The bumblebee moves hungerly from one flower to the next. There’s a grass stain on his sleeve. A rubythroat trills in the dense foliage behind him. There’s a tangle in his hair and he can smell soil and moss. The mountain peak adjacent to his position is enveloped in fog. That’s what he’s capable of gathering; tangible, immediate sensory insights.

It takes a while to work the inertness out of his mind and start filtering information, cataloguing what is valuable and what is superfluous. Most of what Sizhui has so far is needless to his situation.

He shakes the last stupor off and shields his eyes with a hand to peer up at the sun. It already sits high in the sky. It should be past noon. The realisation causes a stab of anxiety to his gut, constricts something right below his diaphragm. By now he’s probably missed. A search party may have already been assembled. Hanguang-Jun will have undoubtably been informed. 

It’s no good.

Sizhui rubs his hands on the side of his thighs and then looks down with a wince. His soot covered hands has wiped off ugly black stains on the white cloth. Oh, well, it’s not like his robes aren’t wet and dirty already. Splotched with mud and grass stains and soaked through by morning dew and precipitation from the moist air that environs Cloud Recess’s pools and waterfalls. He catches himself shivering a little in the cold, soggy fabric. It’s freezing despite the past noon hour sun blearing down.

Sizhui hates being cold.

He's not even really sure where he is. Somewhere in the restricted back mountains judging from the scenery. Maybe on the other side of the Cold Pond, coming from the back. Maybe.

Sizhui rubs his face and instantly regrets it as the remaining traces of soot on his hands undoubtably transfers to the pale skin on his face. Now he probably looks like ten degrees of dishevelled. If someone were to see him like this, they might think he’s been assaulted.

Sizhui pulls his legs up and sits cross-legged on the ledge overshooting the pool to contemplate his next move. He’s going to have to do something so undignified as sneak back into Cloud Recess undetected; wash, get dressed in something more appropriate for daytime than thin grimy nightrobes, sneak back out into the mountains -a nonrestricted area- and then approach the incoming search party pretending to be found.

He can get away with it.

Sneaking in and out of Cloud Recess is easy. Getting himself cleaned up and chucking his filthy, soot-stained robes in the wash to cover his tracks is also easy. The dilemma arises with getting found. He could say he walked off to meditate in solitude and didn’t notice the late hour. Sizhui will be able to pull of such an omission of the truth on most people. However, upon being found he’ll certainly be brought to Hanguang-Jun and Master Wei and they won’t be so easily swayed. Especially not now, when they’re keeping such keen tabs on him already. His fathers are being extra watchful of him and together they’re basically impossible to fool, they know all the tricks, but he could still get away with it. If he’s extra careful and performs his best act to date. 

“A-Yuan!”

Sizhui jolts and twists around. The shout comes from the woods behind him and through the trees he can see Wei Ying coming rushing towards him, Hanguang-Jun following shortly after, at a much more composed pace.

“A-Yuan!” Wei Ying calls out again as he speeds to where Sizhui is sitting, pulls him up and smacks him twice on the back. “Where were you? What were you thinking?”

Sizhui is stunned, the world spins a little when he’s pulled up and he almost stumbles back to the ground by the force of those two spanks, but Wei Ying throws his arms around him and hugs him in a tight embrace. “Thank goodness, you’re safe now. Don’t ever do this again!” He chides in his ear.

“Sizhui” Hanguang-Jun says once he reaches their spot, voice equal parts strict and assuring. “Come back to the Jingshi. We will discuss this matter further.”

Sizhui feels his cheeks heat up -yet another thing that proves he’s not a Lan- and nods quietly, still trapped in Wei Ying’s arms with his face smooched into Wei Ying’s chest.

Somewhat reluctantly but as if he just remembered something important, Wei Ying pulls back, grabs Sizhui by the shoulders and looks deep into his eyes. “Are you hurt?” He asks in a voice filled with so much seriousness Sizhui is almost frightened by the sound of it. He shakes his head “No, not at all.”

“What happened? Why are you out here? Why did you leave in the middle of the night?”

Sizhui opens his mouth to speak, about to answer what he had planned out but Wei Ying cuts him off “Don’t you dare lie to me!” he warns “I will not hesitate to bend you over my knee and light up your behind, right here and right now.”

It’s a very real threat which Sizhui can’t disregard, his backside already stings a little “I… I probably sleepwalked.” He admits self-consciously “When I woke up, I was out here and then I must have fallen asleep once more, it’s all a bit blurry, I only just woke up again a little while ago.” It’s not a lie. It’s not the whole truth either but it’s close enough to the truth to pass undetected. Wei Ying frowns at him, the crease between his brows becoming deeper and deeper. Even Hanguang-Jun looks troubled, his eyes locked seriously on Sizhui as he moves closer and puts a steadying hand on the small of Sizhui’s back. “Sizhui,” he begins gravely “has been missing for two days.”

“Ah!?” Sizhui thinks he blanks out. His jaw drops and the reason for that hand on his back becomes clear as his legs start to wobble and gives out. Hanguang-Jun catches him before he can fall and Wei Ying grabs his arms. Together they gently lower him down until all three of them are sitting on the ground.

“T-t-tt-two-two days?” Sizhui stutters, he suddenly feels very cold, clammy. “But, how? No. That’s not-No.”

Wei Ying brushes some of his hair away to feel his forehead. While Hanguang-Jun removes his own outer robe and gently drapes it around Sizhui’s shoulders. “Fever?” He asks.

Wei Ying shakes his head “Not at the moment, but he’s pale and very cold to the touch. I don’t like it. And-” Wei Ying swipes a finger across Sizhui’s cheek wiping away some of the blackness spread over parts of his face. “Lan Zhan,” he holds the finger up to show Wangji. “this is soot. It’s on his hands and clothes as well.”

“Mm” Wangji hums just as Sizhui seems to snap out of it.

“That was there when I woke.” He reveals pensively. He hadn’t wanted his fathers to see the soot but what’s done is done and there’s no hiding it.

“This time or the first?”

“The first. Maybe I touched a cooking pot or something while sleepwalking…” careful, careful with the details. He’s toeing the line of coming across as an obvious liar right now.

OXXXO

They fly back to the Jingshi on Bichen. It’s a bit of a wobbly ride, not because Hanguang-Jun struggle to carry two extra people in flight, he doesn’t. Such a feat doesn’t really affect him at all but the amount of space on a sword is limited and his fathers insists Sizhui is far too shaken to be trusted to stay upright on his own and therefore they bracket him and hold on tight to his arms to keep him steady.

Initially Sizhui had tried to reason he’s fine and can just walk back on his own but his argument had been quickly shushed with a painful flick on the cheek from Wei Ying and a stern “The matter is not up for discussion.” from Hanguang-Jun.

It's not awful, flying back. It saves him the looks (because he’s still in dirty nightrobes, hanging shamefully loose off his shoulder) and the questions and having to explain himself to people he really wishes wouldn’t consider themselves privy to the matter. It also means he doesn’t have to bow, thank and apologise to every single person drafted to look for him. The hold on his arms his fathers have on him is also nice, it means he can relax, lean his head on Wei Ying’s chest, close his eyes for a moment and take a few deep breaths; they won’t let him fall should he lose his footing.

It's not a long ride before they touch down in the yard in front of the Jingshi. Wei Ying jumps off first and slings an arm around Sizhui’s shoulders as he leads him up the steps to the porch. “Let’s get you warmed up! A hot bath, some food and clean clothes.”

Sizhui smiles. A hot bath does sounds good, if it’s really hot. He can’t stand Cloud recess obsession with cold baths. That’s another good thing about Wei Ying, he understands Sizhui’s need for hot baths and doesn’t give him strange looks when he requests the water to be really hot. Every chance Wei Ying got to order bathwater at an Inn, whilst they were travelling or night-hunting he would always insist on Sizhui bathing first, so he got it at its hottest.

He's so caught up in his musings he doesn’t notice the meaningful silent conversation through looks shared between his fathers.

Hanguang-Jun sheaths Bichen “I’ll make the arrangements and send for a healer.”

Sizhui startles. “I’m alright, there’s no need to bother—” he begins but Hanguang-Jun cuts him off with a look that flashes “Sizhui is grounded.” He states coolly, “and not privileged to argue.”

“Ah.” Sizhui hangs his head “…Yes.”

Hanguang-Jun nods and leaves to make said arrangements and probably also to inform the elders of his return. Sizhui remains standing on the porch with his head down and cheeks burning.

“Don’t worry about it.” Wei Ying whispers in his ear as he grabs him by the shoulders and starts to gently guide him further into Jingshi. “You know that’s Lan Zhan’s way of showing he cares.”

Sizhui nods “Mmhm” he hums “I guess… I guess I’m a little raw.” That might be the truest statement he’s spoken so far. He feels raw. Like his nerves are constantly being scraped open and left exposed to the elements. The memories, the feelings, the nightmares that trap him in this…cyclone. This beautiful, terrifying puzzle he’s piecing together. Faces of the people who loved him floating in and out day and night. He sees them smiling, happy -the grin on Uncle Sixth’s face when he his first batch of alcohol from discarded radishes came out a success. The loving smile Granny always had. The songs she sang to him. He can’t recall the words but the tune. Being carried on Uncle Ning’s shoulders. Uncle Four showing him how to draw healing talismans. Auntie Three teaching him how to identify and prepare medical plants and telling him what they were good for. The way Auntie Qing wielded her needles with such precision. Granny’s stew (note to self: he’s gonna have to try to redo that someday, soon)- and strangely those memories feel like home.

Recently, Sizhui has found himself missing them immensely, to the point where he sometimes wants to scream at top of his lungs and reach for them in the skies above. He wants them back. He wants Granny to hug him with so much love it hurts, like she’s trying to squeeze him so hard he pops. Wants to show Auntie Qing what he can do with a needle. Wants to discuss his newly produced medical herbal teas with Uncle Four and Auntie Three.

Along with the happy memories come the bad ones. Dirty rain and mud, men in yellow with whips and hot iron, tearing him from Granny’s arms and throwing him into the air as they laugh, arrows shooting past him as they miss his tiny falling form, Granny’s scream of terror. An angry roar, someone catches him before he hits the ground. Sizhui is pretty sure it was Uncle Ning. Before he died.

Granny’s pleading wail and empty hands as a man with a Lan headband shoves his sword through her skull while she covers little Sizhui behind her back. The weight of her body on top of him. He shakes her, tries to wake her up. The cries and pleas of his family all around. The smell of blood. Uncle Four’s severed head. Papa, Xian-gege, picking him up, stuffing him inside the tree with an order to be quiet, to not make a sound -a lot to ask of a toddler in the midst of a massacre but little Sizhui obeys, and he never cries loudly again-

He recalls the silence in the following days. The smell of scorched earth, mud and blood. His family hanging from the ceiling in the demon slaughtering cave. The men in yellow and purple who strung them up as he watched, cowering curled up in his hideout. The hunger, the thirst. Rotten flesh. Sizhui drank from the blood pool. He remembers dragging his tiny feet through the mud and the blood and the scorched soil.

Endless.

Endless.

Endless.

No! He bats the memories away. Not now. He can’t deal with that now. He’s got enough on his plate. He needs to compartmentalise. Maybe his breathing is coming a little quicker, a bit shaky.

Wei Ying helps lower him to sit on the edge of the bed and softly brushes a tress of tussled hair off Sizhui’s face before he brings a moist cloth up to wipe the grime away.

“Sizhui, A-Yuan,” he starts very, very carefully “Are you sure this was just an episode of sleepwalking?”

He tilts his head “I don’t understand?”

Wei Ying gets a very pinched expression on his face. “Are you sure no one has hurt you? When we found you-” he cuts himself off to wet his lips “It does look like-” Wei Ying lets the rest of that sentence hang in the air, what he’s asking about is clear without saying the words. It's almost like he’s scared of it, as if saying it out loud would magically make his fears come true.

Sizhui absolves him. “No, I’m alright.” He says.

That pinched expression becomes even more prominent. “Does any part of your body hurt? Any part that shouldn’t be hurting that is.”

Sizhui shakes his head “No, I’m really alright. Nothing hurts.” He has a few cuts that look like they could be from branches and a scrape on his right ankle stings a bit but it’s nothing major or abnormal. He’s just dirty.

Wei Ying makes a strange contemplative noise in the back of his throat and continues to softly dab dirt and soot off Sizhui’s face. “Lan Zhan might demand having you examined. If so it’ll need to be done before you bathe.”

Sizhui manages to stop himself from recoiling at the thought but he can’t stop the minute shiver that runs through him. “No one hurt me.” He insists.

Wei Ying puts the towel down and takes both of Sizhui’s hands in his, squeezing them a little to comfort them both. “A-Yuan, you can’t remember the last two days.” He reminds him “We just want to make sure. Please bear with your worried fathers.”

Sizhui sighs and smiles tiredly, he suddenly feels so very tired. “Yes, papa.”

Wei Ying smiles warmly at him and ruffles his hair, pulling out a dried leaf.

“Do you want another robe?”

Sizhui doesn’t get a chance to answer because two sets of footsteps coming from outside catches their attention and the door slides open to reveal Hanguang-Jun flanked by the tall, gangly form of healer Lun Fu.

Wei Ying doesn’t know Lun Fu but the way Sizhui visibly loses some of the tension in his face at the sight of him puts this man on a good page in Wei Ying’s book.

He does not know Lun Fu but he knows of him. He is the main Lan family’s private healer, the one who cared for Hanguang-Jun’s injuries, took care of whatever was ailing Qiren this week, managed Zewu-Jun’s spring sniffles, mended Jingyi’s broken arm, handled Sizhui’s frequent fevers and tried to help him with his sea sickness. Lun Fu is the man who, as a wedding gift, sent Wangji a jar of powdered ox penis and Wei Ying a soothing ointment. Well, it had worked but Wei Ying’s not sure he appreciates the insinuation.

Lun Fu in the flesh isn’t what Wei Ying had imagined at all. He is almost as tall as Wangji but ganglier with a shaved head, dimples in his cheeks and serene eyes. He smiles too, and it’s not like the ever pleasant diplomatic one plastered on Zewu-Jun’s face or the sweet doesn’t-quite-reach-the-eyes one Sizhui dons on a regular basis or Jingyi’s trademark steel grin. No, this is a genuine elfin little smile that works it’s magic like a charm. There’s something naturally relaxing about him that Wei Ying finds calming and reassuring and it even seems to ease some of the strain out of Wangji’s shoulders.

“Master Wei” Lun Fu greets him properly, without a hint of the apprehension or poorly concealed terror Wei Ying had received from some other Lan Sect disciples. “It’s an honour to finally meet you, just wish the circumstances could have been less harrowing.”

“Master Lun Fu” Wei Ying greets him back “Thank you for your quick response.”

Lun Fu waves his polite regards off. “It’s my job after all and, please, none of that Master drivel, it makes me sound like an old man, my friends call me Fu-Fu.”

Wei Ying can’t quite tell if it’s a joke or not. Lun Fu moves quickly and quietly when he walks over to Sizhui, as if he’s used to hiding his presence. “So, young Sizhui, you’re the one making my life difficult this time.” He smiles an even brighter relaxing smile. “Very well, since I do not count your fevers towards your tally, you still have a quite few pointers before you catch up to the others.” Lun Fu kneels before Sizhui and opens his bag “If I did you might end up as one of the top names of the list. But I don’t, so as it stands the Grandmaster is still in the lead, followed by Zewu-Jun, those seasonal allergies are no joke. Young Jingyi is third, I take full credit for him having all his fingers still attached, and then this one” he thumbs over at Wangji “who seems to think I’m an endless source of sweet oil.” Wangji turns to stare into a corner, the tips of his ears going slightly pink. Wei Ying smiles bashfully because the case-in-point isn’t lost on him and he’s shocked by the sheer gall of this man. Lun Fu is dangerously endearing, even though he speaks in an absolutely calm tone with nothing but relaxed energy coming off him.

“And you,” Lun Fu points, short of accusingly, at Wei Ying “I have a feeling you’re going to claw your way to the top of my list very soon, so don’t you even dare start some ‘make-Lun-Fu’s-life-difficult’ battle with the Grandmaster. I will get you both.”

“Noted.” Is the only response Wei Ying can think off. Healers are scary, he knows that from personal experience. Wen Qing had a tendency to put those needles where she knew it would hurt a man’s pride.

“Good.” Lun Fu claps his hands “Now then, gentlemen. If I may ask you two to leave so I can check over young Sizhui and give him a clean bill of health.” He shoos them out of the room.

When the door closes Wei Ying stares at it for what feels like several minutes “Is this going to be alright?” He asks.

Wangji shuffles across the room to place Bichen on its stand “Mm” he hums “Lun Fu is very capable.”

“That’s not what I meant. I’m sure he is, he would not hold the position he does if he wasn’t. I meant A-Yuan… Lan Zhan what is going on with him?” Wei Ying starts pacing “He was missing for two days. If someone caused him harm, it must have happened while he was out there. It’s unlikely he was taken from his quarters because any intruder would have woken Jingyi and the protective barriers surrounding their room are no child’s play.” He paces the length of the Jingshi back and forth, Wangji’s gaze tracking him as he moves. “It concludes he must have left on his own violation. But, why? Why would he choose to leave the bedroom in nothing but an underrobe? No socks or shoes, no proper clothing, just a thin, flimsy nightrobe. In this weather? The nights are still freezing! And A-Yuan hates the cold, it goes against his nature!” He cards through his hair for possibly the fourth or fifth time “Did someone or something lure him out? What could have incited him to leave the room in the middle of the night in such a state of underdress, unarmed, without informing Jingyi, who is right there, an arm’s length away? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Wei Ying” Wangji takes one step forward. Wei Ying might go bald if this continues.

Wei Ying stops, spins around and points “Could music have been used to induce a trancelike state!?”

Wangji shakes his head “Though it’s true those sorts of musical notes exist, the protective barrier around Sizhui and Jingyi’s room at the dormitories block the effect of such musical sounds from the outside.”

Wei Ying lowers his pointed finger “Then he must have left voluntarily.” He feels cold inside.

Wangji nods, opens his mouth like he’s about to speak when something like a jolt of energy splits the air and has them both on high alert. In the next second the door to the Jingshi is wrenched open as the intimidating Grandmaster of Lan invites himself.

“Wangji.” Qiren greets gruffly, or it’s not so much a greeting as a call to attention. “Wei Wuxian” he acknowledges Wei Ying with poorly concealed internal struggle. “How is young Sizhui?”

Wangji relaxes a little. Wei Ying can see it as a slight change in the tautness of his spine, it’s ever so minute but changes the whole mood. “Uncle.” He greets.

Wei Ying bows as politely as he can right now, with his stomach in knots. “We found him in the restricted back mountains, he was conscious and responsive but confused.”

They’re saved from furthering this awkward conversation by the re-emergence of Lun Fu, who has the surprising ability to step into situations at just the right time to stop them from spiralling.

Lun Fu smiles at them then goes to wash his hands before properly greeting Grandmaster Qiren.

The time it takes is more than the time needed to make Wei Ying buzz with anxiety. “How is Sizhui?” he asks nervously. He dreads the conversation and can’t stand putting it off a second longer, to hell with Lan clan etiquette. Wangji moves a step closer, standing tall in his quiet support and attentiveness, it’s everything short of a hand on the shoulder. Worry rolls off of him in the stiffness of his aura.

“His meridians are in order. I can find no signs of Qi deviation.” Lun Fu flashes his permanent reassuring smile their way and it’s like the whole Jingshi breathes a sigh of released tension. One of the knots in Wei Ying’s stomach dissolves so quickly it leaves him feeling faint with relief.

“As for your other concerns—” Lun Fu begins professionally. “I can find none of the unnatural bruising usually associated with such cases. It is my expert opinion that further, more invasive examination is unnecessary.”

Wei Ying actually has to sit down because he finds his legs suddenly becoming rather useless. Qiren goes deathly pale at those words, because what they imply isn’t lost on him. He obviously knows nothing of Sizhui’s condition upon being found, but now begins to understand that what Wangji and Wei Ying had seen warranted them to request Lun Fu preform a physical inspection with that as a possibility. It’s quite sickening. A flash image of a tiny smiling little boy shyly presenting him with a crude drawing of a carrot appears in his head. Qiren still has that drawing.

“Is Lun Fu sure?” Wangji stares him down intensely, a look that would scare the heebie-jeebies out of most people, but Lun Fu is unaffected; this man fears nothing.

Lun Fu nods and inches closer to the somewhat faint looking Grandmaster as if ready to act would he need to. “Yes” he assures. “As for what we spoke of on the way here, Hanguang-Jun, I agree. Young Sizhui’s claim of sleepwalking seems a bit unusual. An episode of sleepwalking would not last this long. It’s more likely he has suffered some form of fugue state.”

Wei Ying blinks “Fugue state?” he asks at the same time as Qiren snaps: “And what the hell is a fugue state!?”

“Swearing is forbidden in Cloud Recess” Wangji parrots like a good little Lan.

Lun Fu looks like he maybe might just want to reach out and pet their heads. He probably would have done it had he not been occupied. This man is fearless. (Wei Ying silently wonders if he’s found a kin) “It is a dissociative condition which can be described as temporary, reversable amnesia lasting a few days.”

Wangji nods, once. Wei Ying tilts his head. Lun Fu continues “One symptom is wandering which would fit with what seems to have happened here. It’s usually associated with severe childhood trauma.”

“Well, he’s got an abundance of that.” Wei Ying says and silently curses that malfunctioning brain-to-mouth filter. Lun Fu doesn’t inquire into Wei Ying’s little slip -bless this man- “Keep him under observation for the next few days, it’s not unthinkable that once the reality of his experience sinks in he might become distressed.” He rummages through his bag and produces a small, long wooden box, which he hands to Wangji “If he starts becoming anxious or upset light one of these incense sticks in a corner of the room. Make sure the smoke can disperse properly. Do not breathe it in directly.”

“Why?” Wei Ying asks, taking the box from Wangji.

Lun Fu tries to hide the sparkle in his eyes by occupying himself with closing up his bag. “They contain opium.”

“Oh!”

“You brought Opium into Cloud Recess!?” Qiren snaps in sheer outrage.

Wei Ying holds the box between a thumb and forefinger and sniffs it. Scrunching his nose up. It’s opium alright.

Lun Fu fears no Lan. “It is a medical sedative. We use it on a variety of patients, you yourself included on several occasions, Grandmaster.” He’s the pure image of professional politeness but his words sting.

Qiren’s ears turn red.

‘Oh, snap.’ Wei Ying thinks, and it takes just about every ounce of self-control he has not to grin like a madman.

Wangji turns to his uncle and the two share a silent purposive conversation. Qiren draws himself tall and sighs gruffly “Do not concern yourselves with other commitments as of now. Just… just take care of my little nephew.” He commands and marches out of the Jingshi with his robes sweeping around him.

“If no one else requires medical attention, I will take my leave.” Lun Fu bows to Wangji and Wei Ying, in that order and heads towards the door where he suddenly stops. “If you’re wondering where young Sizhui is. He asked to take a bath, I told him it was alright. I saw him heat the water in the tub with his hand, it’s the first time I’ve seen someone maintain a flame under water. I’ve heard of those people with that sort of ability but never seen it for myself until now.” He shuts the door behind him and disappears before they have time to react to those final words.

Wangji’s eyes widen, and Wei Ying feels a sudden chill run down his spine. He knows. Lun Fu Knows!

OXXXO

Sizhui sits in the water for what feels like an inappropriate amount of time, yet it feels like no time at all but the water goes cold twice, so.., yeah. That. Each time it gets too cold for his liking he just mindlessly swipes the fire into his palm and lowers it beneath the surface, bringing the temperature up again. It’s strangely exhilarating sight, seeing the flame dance under water. He’s getting good at this. Sizhui stares as if transfixed at the distorted orange glow that first makes it steam and then boils around his palm. He snuffs it out. It wouldn’t be good to accidentally boil himself to death.

Another knock brings him back to present reality. It’s Wei Ying once again cheeking in on him as if he hadn’t been doing that every five minutes or so for... however long it takes for bathwater to cool, twice. ”Are you still alive in there? Or will I have to break this door down to come in and pull you out and resurrect you? Cause I can do that you know, and I will do it unless you answer me in three, two—”

Sizhui nods then remembers that Wei Ying can’t see him. “Yes. Wait, No… yes and no.” What was the question, really? He thinks maybe Wei Ying snickers on the other side of the door. “Lan Zhan brought you a change of clothes, I’ve put them on the bed. Please come out of there soon, dinner will be shortly.”

Sizhui pulls himself out of the bath reluctantly but with a sense of urgent necessity, he can’t stay in here any longer. They’re gonna start thinking he’s hiding.., if they don’t already.

Maybe he is. He’s not looking forward to the conversation that’s undoubtably going to take place.

The bathrobe dries him too quickly. Not even the time it takes to dry his hair seems long enough. Sizhui takes a deep breath and walks into the bedroom to find the change of clothes.

It’s an underrobe. Too big.

No outer robes. No proper clothing for leaving the house, for being in the presence of anyone other than immediate family. Hanguang-Jun wasn’t exaggerating when he said he was grounded. Grounded and confined to the Jingshi, it seems. He’s kinda ok with that though, not having to see anyone yet.

When he steps out, underrobe secured around him, the food has arrived and Hanguang-Jun is setting the table followed by Wei Ying who keeps reorganizing the set up. Moving all of the spicy items to one end of the table.

“A-Yuan” he exclaims and comes to lead him to the table with a gentle pull on his sleeve “Come sit, have something to eat.”

Hanguang-Jun arranges his robes and sits down properly in his seat at the head of the table, signalling for them to come join him. Wei Ying guides Sizhui over and urges him down in a seat furthest away from the spicy items. Sizhui eyes the aubergine with Sichuan pepper at the other end of the table, it’s a newfound favourite. Hanguang-Jun catches his line of sight “Only light foods today.” He says firmly and Sizhui nods “Yes, father.”

They’re ganging up on him, that’s what it feels like. Wei Ying hands him plain rice, steamed aubergine, steamed carrots and blanched pak choi. It isn’t just light food, it’s the downright most flavourless items on the table, and even for the Lan clan it’s a whole new level of bland.

But maybe his fathers made the right call.

Sizhui doesn’t get even one fifth through his bowl before he feels full and a lump of nausea starts to build in the back of his throat.

He puts the bowl down and sort of weakly pushes it away a from himself. Hanguang-Jun notices with a sideway look. “Don’t waste food.” He reminds him and Sizhui lowers his head a bit, he knows wasting food is bad, but he can’t bring himself to finish the rice. Trying to swallow around the lump does nothing. Wei Ying picks up the steamed carrots again and offers him the dish “Would you like some more carrots?” he asks.

Sizhui shakes his head slightly. The nausea builds, the beginning of a headache pulsates behind his eyes and his face feels tender. His fathers doesn’t seem to have noticed.

Wei Ying chuckles lightly. “Well, I know what you want, and I would love to share my Sichuan aubergine with you—” Hanguang-Jun sends him a disapproving glance “—but Lan Zhan has decided you can’t have any today and your father is the head of this household, his authority is law.”

Hanguang-Jun nods -as if he approves of Wei Ying’s deduction- and resumes eating.

Any other day Sizhui would have snickered at Wei Ying’s antics but not today, instead he shrinks in on himself, shoulders pulled up and gaze lowered, staring hazily at the edge of the table. There’s an ache under his eyes and the thought of finishing that bowl of rice makes him think he'll throw up. But he’s going to have to. Hanguang-Jun has never permitted him to leave the table without finishing his food. He had always been strict on that. Sizhui had to finish all he was served because he was smaller and thinner than his peers and he got sick easily so he had to eat and sleep properly. It was one of the things his father never compromised on.

Sizhui tries to lift his arm, reaching for the chopsticks; why does his limbs feel so heavy? Why is the bowl out-of-focus? He doesn’t see how Wei Ying’s frowns and scoots closer or how Hanguang-Jun puts his cup down and observes him with sombre worry.

Wei Ying reaches out to feel his forehead as Hanguang-Jun simultaneously places a hand on his nape.

“You have a fever.” They conclude.

And before he can comprehend what happens Sizhui is pulled up, lead to his fathers bedroom and pushed into their bed. “The rice?” he manages in stunned shock.

Wei Ying hushes him “I’ll eat it.”

‘That is not hygienic’ Sizhui thinks.

“Or give it to the birds. Or turn it into congee” that’s a terrifying thought. Wei Ying tucks him in tight and gently brushes a lock of hair from his face; his hand feel so cool. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it light congee, for sick people.”

Sizhui is not sure he trusts that but he can’t really think any longer. His vision is starting to blur, he feels so very warm, shivering in the heat and he sinks into darkness with a ringing tune is his ears and Wei Ying’s hand still on his forehead.

When Wei Ying slides the bedroom door closed and returns to the dinning table, Wangji is standing beside it waiting for him. “How is Sizhui?” he asks.

Wei Ying tries to smile reassuringly but his worry shines through “Asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, poor child.”

“I’ll call for Lun Fu to return”

Wei Ying shakes his head “I don’t think that will be necessary, Lan Zhan. Lun Fu said to let him rest, this fever is likely from the stress of his experience.” He reaches out and gently tugs at Wangji’s sleeve, twirling a lock of hair around his finger “We can’t really use the bedroom, our child is sleeping in there. So, why don’t we finish our meal, before the food goes too cold. Then we can take a walk, find a secluded spot and—” he lets the sentence hang and gives Wangji a puckish little smirk.

Wangji straightens then quickly takes a seat “Let’s eat.” He insists and Wei Ying can’t help but grin, his husband is too easy.

They eat in silence, leisurely putting items on each others plates in their own little game of quiet tease. Wangji gets anything and everything spicy and Wei Ying gets vegetables. Once they’re just about finished with the meal Wangji speaks up “Will it be alright to leave Sizhui alone?”

Wei Ying puts his chopsticks down “He is sound asleep but perhaps we should light one of Lun Fu’s incense sticks, just to be on the safe side.”

Suddenly a large thud, accompanied by some loud disturbance in the gravel outside and a muted swear has them both on their feet in a split second. Exchanging looks. “Jingyi” Wei Ying says and Wangji nods.

Wei Ying hurries to slide the door open both because he doesn’t want Jingyi to come crashing through it and he kind of want to see the state of him right know. Jingyi sits on his knees in the gravel only centimetres from a stone slab, rubbing his nose with the palm of his hand. His robes are all over the place and his sword sticks awkwardly from the ground just off the pond.

Wei Ying tries not to laugh at the sight as he feels Wangji coming up behind him.

“Lan Jingyi.” He says firmly.

Jingyi stiffens and, as carefully as possible, hastily brushes a fold of his robes off his head “Hanguang-Jun. Master Wei.” He greets with his gaze down and a pink hue across his ears.

Wei Ying giggles silently into his palm.

“Are you hurt?” Wangji asks.

“No” Jingyi shakes his head and lifts his gaze to meet Wangji’s eyes “Only my pride, but that’s okay, it’s used to it.”

Wei Ying snorts and his palm is not enough the muffle the sound. Jingyi stands and brushes himself off before bowing respectfully to both Wei Ying and Hanguang-Jun.

“Why are you here? At this hour. It’s almost curfew.”

“I was out looking for Sizhui. I was almost at the foot of the mountain when the old ma—” he catches himself “Grandmaster Qiren sent word to inform me you found him.” Jingyi looks so stricken and pleading Wei Ying wants to bring him into a hug. “Is it true!? Did you find Sizhui?! Is he Alright!? Where was he? Can I—” he takes several quick steps forward as he talks and almost reaches the Jingshi when Hanguang-Jun halts his tirade with a silencing hand.

Wei Ying speaks up. “It’s true, we found him.” Jingyi looks like Wei Ying felt earlier; like his legs are about to give out from sheer relief.

“How is he? Can I see him?”

“He’s unharmed but exhausted. He’s currently asleep inside and needs the rest.”

Jingyi nods “…I’ll come back tomorrow, maybe I can see him then.”

Wei Ying is about to confirm when a thought hits him “Wait.”

Jingyi, about to pull his sword from the ground by the pond, looks up at him with hidden expectancy.

Wei Ying scratches his nose “Lan Zhan and I need to leave for a little while” he tries brushing over that part of the sentence quickly -Jingyi is far too shrewd to not grasp the reason why- “maybe you could stay watching Sizhui until we return.”

Jingyi looks like someone just handed him a pot of gold and he nods expressively “Yes. Yes, I can. I promise, I won’t wake him. I’ll only sit with him until you get back. Can I, please, Hanguang-Jun?”

Wangji frowns at first but Wei Ying tips his head and leans it on his shoulder “Come on, Lan Zhan,” he whispers to him, not too subtly. “This solves our problem. Let the boy do it.”

Wangji mulls it over then sighs “Do not wake him.” He instructs

“I won’t.”

“He has a fever, let him rest.”

“I will.”

“Keep an eye on the fever.”

“I will.”

“If it rises, do not leave. Send for Lun Fu.”

“Yes! Hanguang-Jun, I understand.”

 OXXXO

Sizhui is going to maintain his conviction it’s the pleasant birdsong and warming rays of sun filtering in from outside that wakes him. The gentle breeze through the bedroom letting him back into reality, carrying with it the scent of blooming magnolias tinted with a hint of jasmine. It’s not the right season but Hanguang-Jun has used spiritual power to make the flowering bushes around the Jingshi bloom and release their fragrance before.

For now, Sizhui is content just lying there tucked under the warm blanket, listening to the lightly chirping little birds fluttering around in the magnolias.

A memory arises; he’s picking the petals and putting them in rice and tea. Hanguang-Jun is looking on a little curiously but Sizhui is small and pushing the bowl across the table to him with childlike expectancy. Hanguang-Jun accepts it, sniffs it and then eats. It was one of the first times Sizhui had ever truly smiled since he came to Cloud Recess.

Another earlier memory pushes up behind the most recent; a dusty road, the squeaking of a wooden chart being pulled by Uncle Ning, Sizhui is carried on his shoulders, Xian-gege and Auntie Qing are walking a few steps ahead arguing over something or other. They pass by a flowering tree on the side of the road, it smells so sweetly. Uncle Ning speaks up “Look, A-Yuan, that’s Magnolia. You can eat the flowers and it is good medicine.” His stunted voice carries over to the other two and Xian-gege ends up stealing some of the blossoms while Auntie Qing chases him around scolding it’s not their tree.

Sizhui smiles and opens his eyes. The first thing he sees is Hanguang-Jun’s back, sitting at his study desk, probably going over the latest Cloud Recess correspondence.

Something smells strangely. Underneath the sweet scent of flowers there is something else, something foul and ammonia like. It catches him off guard, curls his nose up. Such a stench doesn’t belong in the Jingshi, it’s—

He starts to push himself up. His body feels heavy and numb and getting up takes more effort than anticipated, yet he still moves too fast, and it makes little blackish green stars fire off before his vision.

Hanguang-Jun is by his side before Sizhui has time to grasp when he moved. He places a steadying hand on his shoulder and helps manoeuvre him to sit with his feet on the floor. The next thing Sizhui knows a large hand is pressed to his forehead and he instinctively leans into that cool touch. Hanguang-Jun keeps his hand there for slightly longer than necessary for its purpose, allowing Sizhui to soak up all the coolness his palm has to offer.

“You still have a lingering fever.” Hanguang-Jun’s voice is low, so as to not wake the lightly snoring Wei Ying who is still half clinging on to Sizhui’s waist.

How had he not noticed until now?

Sizhui blinks back at Wei Ying, laying there, snoring with his mouth open and one lazy sleep heavy arm slung around Sizhui’s waist. Wei Ying had been embracing him in his sleep.

“You were restless.” Hanguang-Jun informs. “Wei Ying got in with you to help you settle. You keep mumbling in your sleep.”

“Oh?” Sizhui wrings his hands, fiddles with the hem of his nightrobe. Hanguang-Jun says nothing for several long minutes, he kneels in front of Sizhui and just watches him as if trying to discern his physical and mental state, searching for something. Sizhui can’t bring himself to make eye contact so he keeps his gaze averted and swallows thickly. The longer the silence stretches the more jittery his nerves become and he begins to scratch the skin on his hand. Hanguang-Jun stops him by grabbing his hands, gently guiding them apart, preventing him from continuing to scratch. 

“Sizhui” Hanguang-Jun speaks seriously but not intensely. “Sizhui, who is Kiran?” he asks.

“Wha—?” Sizhui blinks and shakes his head, it is such a random question. “I don’t know. I’ve never heard that name before.” Yet somehow it feels familiar. Has he heard it before? Where? When? Why did Hanguang-Jun ask such a thing?

Something infinitesimal settles in Hanguang-Jun’s lips, a tiny change in his micro-expressions which would go most people by, but Sizhui has had the better part of a lifetime to discern the meaning behind that unrevealing face and he’s on par with Zewu-Jun at knowing what goes on in his father’s head and heart.

Hanguang-Jun isn’t sure he believes him but he’s not going to press because he can tell Sizhui is confused. “You kept repeating the name in your sleep, it is unlikely it’s unrelated to your episode.”

Sizhui nods, he’s not going to argue. He doesn’t feel like thinking about it. “I—I don’t know… I feel—” he cuts off with a shake of his head and stares down at the loose thread in his sleeve he’s been twiddling with for the past few minutes.

“Confused.” Hanguang-Jun supplies and Sizhui flinches. Pulling his shoulders up as if he could hide in them.

“…yes.” He nods a few times, clutching the fabric of his nightrobe tight. He wants to talk about it at the same time he doesn’t. He doesn’t know how to put it into words coherently or where to start, who to trust with what, what of it all is important and what isn’t and especially he doesn’t want to waste his fathers’ time with irrelevant matters. Hanguang-Jun is busy with important work and Wei Ying has his own confusions to tackle, they don’t need the addition of having to deal with Sizhui’s chaos. He should be capable of dealing on his own.

Hanguang-Jun stands “Come.” He says and helps Sizhui up on his feet with a steady hold on his elbow and leads him out of the bedroom, over to the study desk. He sits down and motions for Sizhui to take a seat on the short side. “I must finish these correspondence letters at earliest, before next session. You may help me stamp.”

Accepting the stamp Hanguang-Jun holds out for him brings Sizhui back. He used to do this all the time when he little. Stamp Hanguang-Jun’s writings and mail with his official seal and crest. Back then it really made Sizhui feel like he was helping and being a good boy. It doesn’t feel like that anymore, it feels more like Hanguang-Jun is accommodating him, trying to keep his hands busy and he doesn’t feel like a good boy anymore either. Keeping things from his fathers, getting into all this trouble he's been kicking up as of lately, lying… all the fires and now this act of disappearance.

“In the meantime,” Hanguang-Jun continues as he picks up the first letter “you should contemplate your thoughts and feelings. Find a way to express them constructively so that Wei Ying and I can help you.” He instructs.

Sizhui nods slowly, something feels oddly tight in his chest and Hanguang-Jun looks like he wants to add something more “There’s no need to rush” he starts “take all the time you need, we’ll be here when you’re ready.”

It's such a Wei Ying thing to say Sizhui wonder if they rehearsed what to say or if his father picked that up from being around Wei Ying so much these days, either way it makes him smile a little. He wishes he could be that close and open with someone. He does have Jingyi, and Jingyi’s presence always make him feel at ease. Jingyi just has that effect, he calms Sizhui’s anxiety. They could be content in the presence of the other for hours, studying, playing, meditating, feeding the bunnies, watching the streams float by or the leaves changing colours in autumn. Sometimes Jingyi would grin, put an arm around him, pull him close and Sizhui would feel warm. Alone, together, they lived without pretence without expectation. But not even Jingyi knows the extent of everything and Sizhui doesn’t want to burden him, he doesn’t want to burden his fathers. He doesn’t want to be a burden, period. He should be fine on his own. After all, he’s the kid who should have been dead like five times over but is stubbornly still alive.

“Sizhui, what’s the matter?” Hanguang-Jun surveys him over and Sizhui flinches. Caught again, he really needs to stop disappearing into his own head. “Just thinking…” he says and preps the stamp with even more ink than he already had. It’s a bit too much, it’s gonna leave a messy mark, and an excess amount of dark black ink ends up on his sleeves.

It earns him a moment or two more under intense scrutiny before Hanguang-Jun nods and drops the matter, returning to his work.

They work in fluid silence for almost half an hour. Hanguang-Jun reading correspondence and Sizhui stamping what is handed him and arranging the letters in two neat piles, one for ‘stamped and ready to be archived’ and one for ‘requires further review’. Then their food arrives and Sizhui tries to keep his head down and pretend he’s somewhere else as the three attendants set the trays down and bows to them both. He can feel their curious gazes on him. They try to be discreet about it but, even though he’s staring blankly at the papers under his hands, he can feel the burn of their eyes on him. They of course knew he’d been missing, everybody knew, and he must look a shocking mess right now. This late in the morning and he presents so improperly; still in nightrobe, hair undone, sleeves stained with ink, barefoot, idle posture, no ribbon, face unwashed and he does not greet them or in any way recognise them. Any other time he would have received a reprimand for such conduct. Now Hanguang-Jun dismisses them without a word and sighs as soon as they’re out the door. “My apologies.” He says. “I should not have let them see you like this against your will.”

Sizhui tries to smile but he’s pretty sure it comes across a little too strained “It’s alright, word will get around either way, it always does.”

Hanguang-Jun picks up his brush with a slight frown to his lips. “Gossip is forbidden in Cloud Recess.” He repeats for possibly the five thousandth time and returns to his letters.

Sizhui casts a glance over at the breakfast spread laid out on the dining table by the attendants. “Father?”

“Yes?”

“Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Hmm” Hanguang-Jun hums encouragingly and Sizhui rises shuffling his way over to the table on quiet feet. He readies a bowl of rice and preps an assortment of his father’s preferred side dishes to go with it then puts it all -along with a pair of chopsticks, a teacup and the pot- on one of the trays left behind by the attendants. He looks up and his eyes catches sight of the sun through one of the small windows. The sun, which is already well into the sky, it’s not yet lunch but well past breakfast hour.

He doesn’t have to ask, it seems his ceased movement and line of sight is enough for Hanguang-Jun to understand the silent question “I requested breakfast to be served belatedly, to allow you to rest.”

“Oh?” Sizhui says and turns around, heading back to the desk with the tray in his hands, careful to not slip on the long, floor sweeping hem of the robe which is too large for him. 

He sets the tray down, missing the way Hanguang-Jun casts a critical eye at it, Sizhui has not brought any food for himself. As Sizhui sits and beings steeping the tea, Hanguang-Jun starts thinking about clearing the table of his work. Not wanting to risk getting food stains on possibly important documents. He needs to finish the one he’s working on though. Picking the brush up he catches Sizhui looking at the steaming teapot, then glancing over into the bedroom and then back at the single cup on the tray.

Wangji inwardly sighs. “Have some food.” He instructs Sizhui who stares back at him with peaked brows “But what about Papa—”

“Wei Ying will be hours to rise. Sizhui needs to eat and should eat while it’s hot and good for him. Cold food is Wei Ying’s punishment for being slothful.”

“Am I not being punished?” He asks with such simplicity Hanguang-Jun stares at him with a stunned look of surprise that is rare to see, eyes wide and mouth slightly dropped. He collects himself quickly, though, schooling his face back to its regular passive form. “What do you feel you deserve to be punished for?”

Sizhui averts his gaze down. He busies himself with clearing the last letters and documents off the table. “Disappearing, leaving without saying anything, breaking curfew, causing uproar, entering the restricted back mountains where I’m not allowed to be” Lying and starting fires are left unsaid. He’s not ready to admit that yet. Omission of the truth and withholding information is also considered lying. If his father knew, Sizhui would surely receive that smacking he feels is long overdue.

“None of which you did on purpose. You were not in a right state of mind and cannot be held accountable for your actions.”

Somehow those words doesn’t make Sizhui feel any better, they only make him feel like a problem. “Many people have been punished despite committing their actions in a confused state or under emotional distress?”

The hint isn’t lost on Wangji, he pauses momentarily before setting the brush down. “Do you wish to be punished?” he says, voice mellow and controlled, while reaching to unload the tray. “Because I could discipline you, right now, for needling.”

Sizhui lowers his head “Forgive me, I didn’t intend to be rude.”

“Mmmhhm.” Hanguang-Jun hums, and Sizhui suddenly finds himself unable to speak.

The silencing spell.

It’s released just as quickly. A swift reprimand and no more. Hanguang-Jun slips an empty sheet of paper across the desk at him. “Your actions were not deliberate; therefore, you are not to blame.” He taps the paper “Copy ‘Treat yourself with ease.’ One hundred times. Hand it in once you are finished.”

“Yes, father.” It’s basically not even a punishment. Sizhui reaches for the tea pot and fills Hanguang-Jun’s cup, handing it to him and receives a courteous nod as thanks.

The next fifteen minutes or so are spent in silence as Hanguang-Jun eats and Sizhui starts writing, he gets to forty-two when Hanguang-Jun sets the empty rice bowl down, indicating he’s finished. The table is swiftly cleared, and Hanguang-Jun returns to his pile of letters.

They find their pace again. Hanguang-Jun reads. Sizhui stamps in-between coping his sentence.

When Hanguang-Jun files the last letter under ‘requires further review’ with a barely hidden sigh Sizhui hands him his one hundred sentences and decides to ask.

“Father?”

“Yes.” Hanguang-Jun replies while reviewing his work. Sizhui knows he misspelled a few times, hopefully Hanguang-Jun will be too distracted to notice…or lenient enough to let him get away with it without making him redo the whole thing.

“Can—May I go see the rabbits today?”

Hanguang-Jun lays the single sheet of paper down and picks up his brush, quickly signing and stamping it. “You are still grounded.”

Sizhui feels his stomach drop but, No, he’s going to try one final time. Normally he wouldn’t because pestering your elders is disrespectful, but he doesn’t think Hanguang-Jun will scold him for nagging today. “Please.” He begs, putting on his best ‘Wei-Ying-ish’ pout without being too dramatic. 

For a few seconds Hanguang-Jun studies him with that impassive look that hides away his true thoughts then he reaches out and places a hand on Sizhui’s forehead again, a small crease appearing between his brows. “Not unsupervised.” He rules in that no-nonsense tone Sizhui knows not to argue with.

“Jingyi can come.” He tries. He would kinda want Jingyi to be there, Jingyi makes things better.

“Accompanied by an adult.” Hanguang-Jun grabs a blank sheet of paper and beings writing a letter. Sizhui doesn’t try to sneak a look at what he’s writing, it’s rude and probably just his daily communication with Wei Ying. 

“Uncle Ning is an adult.”

Technically.

More or less.

It’s debatable.

Wen Ning lives in a shed outside of Cloud Recess (unbeknownst to the elders) he has a small garden set up and grows a few rarer medical plants there. Sizhui visits him as often as he can get away with without arising suspicion. They use the books they took from the Wen library to make medications, ointments, tonics, and various other, more or less, experimental concoctions of which one worked like a charm but gave Jingyi a rather interesting skin discolouration. 

Hanguang-Jun sends him a sharp look lacking in reproach, it says ‘I know you’re teasing, stop that’ “Supervised by either Wei Ying or I.” He clarifies, arranging his papers into piles depending on their importance and collecting up the ones he’ll need for the day. “and I must attend a meeting shorty, it is likely to take up most of my day.”

That explains the letter. Hanguang-Jun always wrote a letter to Wei Ying on the days he had to leave before Wei Ying woke up. He stands and steps into the bedroom, when he returns after only a short moment Sizhui has already gotten up, collected Bichen and is waiting by the front door. Hanguang-Jun nods at him and accepts the sword, securing it to his waist. “You may ask Wei Ying to accompany you to the rabbits once he wakes up. Stay here until then. Have something to eat and try to finish it” he instructs.

“Yes, father.”

Hanguang-Jun reaches out and places a hand on top of his head, like he’s about to ruffle Sizhui’s hair just like Wei Ying does but never gets to it, instead he cards a few strands though his long fingers. It’s a gentle and comforting gesture under his large powerful hand. “Take care. If you start to feel unwell or upset, do not hesitate to wake Wei Ying.”

“Yes, father. I will.”

“He will be mad at you if you don’t.”

“I know.”

One hand on the door, Hanguang-Jun gives him one last look and it’s one that makes Sizhui heart leap. Like Hanguang-Jun wants to say something more but is not sure it’s the right thing to do. “…We’ll discuss your fire tonight, after dinner.”

His stomach sucks in, his heart skips a beat and Sizhui can practically feel himself pale as the implication of those words sinks in. It’s like being dunked in cold water. He nods because swallowing the dryness in his mouth away won’t help him form actual words right now. 

“We only want you safe.”

Sizhui nods again “I— I understand.” He knows that, of course he does. He wants his fathers safe too and they return the sentiment.

“Good, and tell Wei Ying not to do anything I wouldn’t do.” It’s a joke and a good one, coming from Hanguang-jun. Sizhui smiles and bows “I will, though it may be a lost cause.”

“I fear so too.” Hanguang-Jun laments. “Eat your food.” He instructs finally before leaving.

OXXXO

Sizhui takes a cup of tea and opens the back door, stepping out on the porch overlooking the Jingshi’s back garden. He walks a few rounds, checks on all his favourite flowering bushes before settling by an agreement of white stones in a corner of the garden.

The tea has long since gone cold and over-steeped, but he didn’t bring it to drink.

Sizhui feels freer these days. Wei Ying is a fresh breeze and knowing who he is clears a few question marks up. He gets why he hates the cold pond, why he likes tactile comfort, why he always felt supressed like the flame inside was being quelled by outside attempts to snuff it out. It had to remain in a little box, and he wasn’t allowed to let his fire be anything more than the equivalent of a small candle flame. He didn’t like it but he did what he was told, shown and expected to do because it kept Grandmaster Qiren off Hanguang-Jun’s back.

It was burning brighter now; it had burnt the box.

Wei Ying was to blame for that. Wei Ying had come back and brought everything with him and through that process he’s given Sizhui a new role-model -though, not really new; reinstated.-

He used to only have Hanguang-Jun as a role-model. Topped with Lan Qiren’s impossibly high expectations of him -and his attempts at snuffing out Sizhui’s fire- in his efforts to make him into an even more perfect version of Hanguang-jun.

Ever since Wei Ying’s return Sizhui has felt like he can finally breathe, and he’s realized just how suffocating Lan Qiren’s expectations and efforts had been. Trying to live up to the pinnacle of Lan. Having Wei Ying back, finding out he’s actually a Wen, Sizhui feels like he’s been given an opt out. He doesn’t have to take whatever Qiren is dishing out, he doesn’t have to be a perfect Lan or feel like a failure because he has a flame inside that the labours of Lan can’t quell no matter how hard they try.

One of the books he’d taken from the Qishan library was the teachings of Wen Mao, he’d taken it in an effort to try to understand himself and the history of his family a bit better and learned the stark difference between the actions of Wen Rouhan and the teachings of Wen Mao.

Wen Mao taught that sun’s fire was life and healing. The life bringer of all. It sparks inside every being as long as they live and renews the world over and over. It is warmth, protection and purification. Burn the ground and it will grow back lusher than before.

As history can testify Wen Mao had by no means been perfect. He had desired to further his clan over his sect but for the other sects to hold that against him is honestly quite disingenuous of them. Kind of like throwing rocks while surrounded by porcelain. Most sects consider those of blood relation to the founder to be of higher standing and worthy of respect and leadership simply by virtue of their blood. The Lan’s themselves are not infallible to this. They may point at their court of Elders and say “Look, eminence can be earned by rightful merit.” But only a blood Lan can be Sect Leader and it is a position inherited from father to first born son. And any decision made by the court of Elders can be vetoed by an adult male of Lan blood.

Wen Rouhan had corrupted his forefather’s teachings. Turned it into power and destruction. Because all beings are slaves to the sun all should subjugate under its medium on earth; Wen Rouhan, himself, or he would burn anyone who dared refuse.

He'd been wrong.

Burn the ground and it will grow back lusher than before.

Wen Mao had been right. The sun is the life bringer, the fire is warmth and protection, it purifies food and water and makes it safe for consumption. Fire keeps people safe and comfortable, the sun gives life to the earth. Everyone who exists is a spark of life, a fire that burns bright, a concentration of energy.

Sizhui reaches for that flame, lets the warmth flow throughout his body, spread across his skin like the gentle touch of summer sun and steam rises from the cup in hands. Careful not to make it boil or the teacup will crack.

“So, this is where you’re hiding.”

Sizhui flinches so violently he drops the cup. It shatters against the pebbled ground, leaving discolouring traces of tea over the little white rocks. Wei Ying approaches in a sort of stumbling fashion, lids too sleep heavy to even open his eyes properly, one hand scratching his bed head and the other waving Hanguang-Jun’s letter at him “Lan Zhan says you’re not allowed to leave without my permission.”

“Not even to the back garden?”

Wei Ying holds the letter up close to his face and blinks blearily at it, eyes narrowing in concentration “… You know, he didn’t specify beyond ‘Jingshi’ so I guess the garden is fine.” He yawns “Have you eaten?”

“No.”

Wei Ying scans the letter once again, he’s more awake now. “You were supposed to.” He says.

“I know, I thought I’d wait until you woke up so we could have breakfast together.” Sizhui stands and dusts himself off, he hopes his words are enough to appease, and besides he can hear Wei Ying’s growling stomach from several feet away.

“Aren’t you sweet.” Wei Ying grins happily and scratches his head again. “Come on, let me get changed and then we’ll eat.” He calls, turning around and heading back inside, waving for Sizhui to follow. “And you’ll finish your whole serving or you can consider your garden privileges revoked. Don’t you dare touch that!”

It will never cease to surprise Sizhui how Wei Ying and Hanguang-Jun both seem to have eyes in the back of their heads. He had only leaned down to pick up the broken shards of porcelain from the cup after Wei Ying had turned around. Sizhui does as told and withdraws his hand. “Leave it for now. We don’t want for you to cut your fingers” Wei Ying explains and beckons for him to come inside. 

Sizhui nods and follows. Reluctantly leaving the shards behind.

Wei Ying hums a nonsensical tune to himself as he quickly gets dressed in a rather slapdash manner and comes to join Sizhui at the table. It’s already several hours past breakfast and the food has gone cold but neither of them have any commitments for the day. Time is at their dispense.

They eat. Or, Wei Ying eats, Sizhui settles with half a cup of tea and ignores the cold bowl of congee placed before him. He’s not hungry but he doesn’t dare say, he want to keep his garden privileges.

Discreetly, Sizhui begins rearranging items on the table, pushing plates around, he straightens a few dishes and a vase, smooths out a napkin and hopes Wei Ying -in his food distracted state- doesn’t notice how he hides his congee under the rice pot. Seems he’s right. Wei Ying doesn’t mention it. He talks about everything other than what’s been going on with Sizhui for most of the meal. It’s pleasant. A respite. Sizhui smiles, he laughs as Wei Ying tells him about the latest news from Jiang Cheng -which involves a pair of cranes making house on the roof of his private quarters and him insisting he’ll have the eggs for breakfast- and then a letter from Jin Ling asking if Wei Ying, or anyone at Cloud Recess, knew anything about caring for baby cranes because his uncle has apparently adopted four. Sizhui laughs so hard he has to wipe a stray tear away and Wei Ying beams at him.

The spell breaks when Wei Ying holds out the cold teapot “Cold rice I can stomach but cold tea… I’m pretty sure you can heat this.” 

Sizhui stares wide-eyed at the teapot dangling a few inches off his face and Wei Ying’s full on serious pointed look. He freezes. He can hear his own heartbeat as it thumps through his ears. “Hanguang-Jun said we would talk about it at dinner.”

“I know, he wrote that.” Wei Ying nods “I thought you might want a chance to set your thoughts straight before then.”

Sizhui lowers his head but Wei Ying reaches across the table, hitching a finger under his chin forcing his head back up “Hey, none of that.” He admonishes “Are you.., are you afraid of the Wen fire?”

Sizhui shakes his head vehemently. “No, not at all” he reaches across the table, placing one palm on the body of the teapot and imagines the flames flowing through his hand like liquid fire.

Steam rises from the pot and Wei Ying emits a loud awed noise “Aaah! That’s a special technic you got there! Wen Qing had experimented with something similar, but she couldn’t bring the heat up in quite the same way you are.”

“I remember that her hands where always warm when she touched me.”

Wei Ying nodded “She couldn’t bring the heat up enough to boil water, that still required an open flame.”

Sizhui flicks a little fluttering flame to life in his palm and Wei Ying beams “Just like that!”

Sizhui smiles and picks up an empty serving dish, transferring the flickering flame to it. He fuels it to burn in red, green and blue, spark into a rainbow of colouring, grow and simmer down, puts his finger to it and spins it up like a twisting spiral before settling it back down on the dish. Transfixed by the dancing flames he reaches for it again when—

“Sizhui” Wei Ying says seriously, making Sizhui’s head snap up at the uncharacteristically grim tone “I cannot stress this enough, you must never use it outside of the Jingshi without permission from either me or Lan Zhan.”

Sizhui nods slowly “I know—” he doesn’t want to. It’s his. Once he’d learned how to control it better he’d never been intentionally irresponsible with it.

“Wen fire is a blood bound ability, just like the Lan’s and their freaky arm strength and silencing spell, only a pure blood can use it. If someone recognizes your fire as Wen fire—”

Sizhui feels his ears burn hot from displeasure. He feels like a naughty child being unfairly punished by having a privilege taken away. Unfairly, being the word here. He doesn’t like the idea that he can’t be trusted with this responsibility. The fire is his to use. He doesn’t want to give it up, hand over the say when and where he uses it to someone else. He knows how to control it, how to make it look like regular spiritual fire, it would take an expert to recognize it as Wen fire.

“Sizhui!”

“Huh!?”

“I said, do you understand?”

“Yes.” He not sure what he just agreed to but he’s got a fair idea the gist of it is; they don’t trust him. The little flame on the dish in front of him flickers lifefully. A soothing cuddly little wisp of warmth. He snuffs it out and immediately regrets it. Sizhui suddenly feels like he just killed a small defenceless animal. He stares at the last remaining glitters in the air, overcome by a sensation like he wants to crawl out of his own skin, that’s impossible so instead he wrings his hands as if he could squeeze the sensation out by doing so.

Wei Ying claps his hands “How about I check your temperature and if your fever has gone down, we could go see the rabbits. Rabbits make everything better!”

It’s stunning how Wei Ying can switch demeanour like a cook flips a pancake over.

OXXXO

They make it over to the rabbit patch by taking the back path, through the small woods behind the Jingshi. It’s more private and less likely anyone will see them. They do still manage to run into an Elder. Stepping in front of Sizhui -as if to shield him- Wei Ying seems to quickly deflate as he realizes it is Elder XiHuan tending to the trees. Elder XiHuan is in Wei Ying’s good book. He’s seemingly just a kind old man who worries. And he’s the one who always slips Wei Ying a sweet after the cleansing rituals.

Elder XiHuan squints at them. Sizhui knows his eyesight is very poor and he’s incapable of making out details so he won’t be able to make out that Sizhui is wearing nothing but an underrobe under one of Hanguang-Jun’s old robes -which Wei Ying cut parts of the bottom off so Sizhui wouldn’t trip on the hem- and still no ribbon.

“Wei Wuxian? Young Sizhui, is that you?”

They both bow “Yes, Elder.”

He smiles at them, holding on to a budding birch branch “Young Sizhui, I was glad to hear Hanguang-Jun and Master Wei retrieved you safe. I hope you will not wander off and get lost again, we were all quite concerned.”

Sizhui bows again “I intend not to. It was rather exhausting.”

“I’m sure it must have been, you seem haggard. You should rest well. It is good for the soul.” He says and passes Sizhui a sweet as he shuffles his way past them and continues along the path, bemoaning to himself “All this now, when we’ve having the issue with the fires. Oh, my old heart is not cut out for more excitement. The changing seasons are enough…” he tuts.

Wei Ying shakes his head casually “Strange old man, that one.” He speaks through a breath. “Probably not to be underestimated.” He says, leading Sizhui the rest of the path towards their destination.

With a frown Sizhui flicks his eyes up at the back of Wei Ying’s head. Wetting his lips and swallowing. “Is that what you told people, that I wandered off?”

“We didn’t tell them anything.” Wei Ying replies shortly. Sizhui pulls back a little at the tone. They have already reached the rabbit patch and two young kits run across his feet, chasing each other. Sizhui follows them with his eyes “Papa?”

“Yes?” Wei Ying is already squatted on the ground with three rabbits couped up in his arms as he looks back up at Sizhui with large eyes.

“Are you mad at me?”

Wei Ying’s wide eyes grow in size “What makes you think that?”

Sizhui says nothing, one of the kits nips at his robe, he leans down, picks it up and folds his legs as he sit. Wei Ying sighs heavily. "You scared us. You were missing, no one knew where you were, we couldn't find you. We were terrified. I may, initially, in my fraught state have said a thing or two about giving you a few good rounds of the leather once you were retrieved but circumstances change, you were gone so long and I’m pretty sure neither Lan Zhan nor I slept a wink in the days you were lost."

Sizhui pets the kit in his lap, carding his fingers through its soft calico fur, something cold curls around his heart and pricks at it. “I’m sorry” he mumbles, looking away. “If you wish to give me—” he can’t say the word “I will comply.”

“What!? No!” Wei Ying calls, startling the bunnies in his arms to jump away. “No, no, no, no, no, no. No.” he crawls the short distance across the ground, cupping Sizhui’s face between the palms of his hands “Silly boy. I was kidding!” he chides “Don’t take everything I say when upset seriously. Words just pop out of my mouth like frogs. Meaningless.” He rambles, the kit hides in the curve of Sizhui’s elbow “I would never be so harsh with you!”

Sizhui snuggles against Wei Ying’s palm. His head feels like his ears are stuffed with soft wadding, it’s an odd sensation. “Still… I’m sorry.”

The forlorn pinch between Wei Ying’s brows deepens and he sighs sadly “You’re forgiven. Is that what you want to hear? Even though there is nothing to forgive.” He says “You didn’t do this intentionally.”

Wei Ying’s brow suddenly knits anxiously and his hand moves away, only to return immediately as he presses the back of his hand against Sizhui’s forehead and then his cheeks, one after the other. The fine lines along his eyes crinkle with worry “… I think your fever is coming back. How do you feel?”

The least he can do is tell the truth. “Warm” Sizhui admits. It’s not the comfortable sort of warmth but the sort of warmth that pulsates almost painfully along the surface of his skin and makes him shiver.

“We’re going back to the Jingshi.” Wei Ying decides. He heaves himself back up and extends his hand. Sizhui doesn’t take it, instead he softly cups the little kit, petting its head “Can’t we stay a bit longer, we only just got here.” He nuzzles the warm fluffy kit against his cheek and one of the shivers passing though him wanes. Rabbits do make things better. “Please, Papa.”

Wei Ying tuts at him “No. No.” he shakes his head “Lan Zhan made it clear, and I agree with his judgement; if your fever rises, we return home at once.”

“It’s not so bad” Sizhui ends up mumbling, eyes fixed on the tiny vibrating nose. He suddenly remembers how he used to crawl on all fours and bump noses with the rabbits, getting grass stains on his robes. He always had to nose bump every single rabbit in the patch before going home. One time one licked his nose back and he had squealed so loud Hanguang-Jun startled and came running. “We… we don’t have to tell Hanguang-Jun we stayed.”

Wei Ying laughs a little and leans down at the waist “You’re really something, kid.” He says casually “Trying to bargain me? Appeal to my rebellious nature?” he plucks the kit out of Sizhui hold and sets it down in the grass. “Maybe you do need a little scolding” his eyes sparkle as he playfully pinches Sizhui’s cheek “for trying to persuade me to behave so nonconformist. Just wait until we get back home and I tell your father.” He jesters “I’m sure you will be suitably punished.”

Sizhui can’t help but play along “Oh? How?”

Wei Ying taps his chin reflectively “hmmm? I think, you will be sent to bed.” He grins and bops Sizhui on the nose.

It’s just past noon.

Sizhui smiles ruefully and lets Wei Ying pull him up. In a heartbeat his vision turns a blurry blackish green and he swoons, gripping at the first solid thing he can find -Wei Ying’s arm- just to stay on his feet. “Woah, woah!” Wei Ying reacts quickly, grabbing him by the elbows to hold him steady. “There you go. Maybe bedrest is not such a bad idea.” He says thoughtfully. “Lan Zhan won’t be back for hours so I’m making an executive decision. I can do that, I’m your father too, after all. We’re going back to the Jingshi and you’re going straight to bed.”

Sizhui doesn’t argue. Something hot pulsates under his skin, like a hot flare originating from deep inside his core. The world changes colour. It is green, then red -he thinks he hears the shriek again. Or is it a scream? He’s not warm anymore- and then the world falls into darkness.

OOXXXOO

He comes to on the daybed in the Jingshi with a strange dull, throbbing sensation burning between his brows, radiating out across his left eye. He hates these headaches. The pillow under his head is soft and the blanket draped over him smells like Wei Ying and sandalwood, there’s something extraordinary comforting about it. He burrows into it.

Slowly Hanguang-Jun’s and Wei Ying’s hushed voices start to trickle in. Sizhui can't quite hear what they're talking about but there's a tight sort of urgency to their words. It almost sounds as if they're arguing. They do that sometimes. Married couples disagree and argue occasionally, there’s nothing strange about that. Even Hanguang-Jun and Wei Ying. Their arguments are never bad or long lasting. They never raise their voices or walk away from each other and usually they always resolve their disagreements before the end of the day, often sooner.

When he opens his eyes he sees them immediately; the front doors are opened and they’re seated together on the deck overlooking the pond in the Jingshi’s front garden.

Usually, they make an effort to not bicker in front of Sizhui or at least keep it out of his earshot. But he can tell when they’re having a disagreement. It’s hidden in the scowl of Wei Ying’s brows and in the rash vividness of his movements, the way he pulls his shoulders up and cocks his head forward. It is in the soft brusqueness of Hanguang-Jun’s responses as he sends occasional flickering glances at Wei Ying in between pretending to seem busy.  Whenever they argue Hanguang-Jun won’t look at Wei Ying -no matter how much Wei Ying tries to establish eye-contact- favouring pretending to read or write. However, the moment Wei Ying turns away Hanguang-Jun will glance up at him.

Because Hanguang-Jun is always paying attention.

Sizhui recognizes the kinesics of it immediately, he doesn’t have to hear to know when his parents are arguing.  

But this time he's pretty sure their argument has something to do with him. And that is a stabbing through the heart twisting his guts around. He hates being the source of disagreement between them.

"Father? Papa?"

They both startle. And in a second Wei Ying is on his feet and over by Sizhui’s side, fussing over him. The daybed dents when he sits. “Welcome back” he smiles happily, his palm brushing across Sizhui’s forehead. “Your fever has gone down again. That’s good.”

Sizhui makes to pull himself up but Wei Ying holds him back, shaking his head “No, no. Lie still” he cautions. “We’re not letting you up until we’re assured you won’t try to cremate my eyebrows and faint on me again.”

Sizhui stares at him, wide-eyed “I what?” He hears the slide and click as the doors close and sees Hanguang-Jun coming up behind Wei Ying, stopping a few steps away, a small tray in his hands.

“Fainted.” Wei Ying trills “In the rabbit garden. I told you we should have returned home sooner, the moment your fever spiked, but you persuaded me to let you stay. I fell for those big pleading eyes of yours” he bemoans nonstop. “I let you talk me into doing something I knew I should not have allowed.”

“Papa.” Sizhui sits up before they can stop him “Not that. Your eyebrows?”

Wei Ying blinks. “My eyebrows are fine” he points and nips at them, looking up as if he thinks he could possibly see his own eyebrows if he only raised his eyes far enough “Look. Two of them. Still attached.”

Of course, Sizhui can see Wei Ying still has two eyebrows. He can also see smeared black lines on his neck just where the hem of his robe brushes against the skin. Somehow Wei Ying got soot on his clothes… Sizhui grows cold. He couldn’t have!?

Hanguang-Jun steps up, setting the small tray down on a side table “Medicine.” He informs as soon as he sees Sizhui eyeing the single cup of steaming glutinous reddish liquid. Cringing he shakes his head. He knows what it is -knows how to make it because Uncle Ning taught him- and it is disgustingly bitter and leaves a pungent aftertaste that sticks to the roof of his mouth for hours. It’s the same strong fever medication Hanguang-Jun always give him when he has even the slightest hint of a fever or a headache. After 13 years and probably hundreds of cups Sizhui should be used to it but he’ll never be. It’s foul. “I don’t have a fever anymore.” He tries but his opposition gets snubbed out as his fathers takes no notice of his words.

Wei Ying scurries over to the other side of the daybed and scoots up half-way behind him, so he can place a supportive -captive- arm around Sizhui’s shoulders while Hanguang-Jun sits down in the spot he had previously occupied. Facing Sizhui as he picks up the cup “Wei Ying tells me you didn’t eat your breakfast this morning.” He starts, stirring through the medicine with a small spoon to lower the temperature. “You did not finish your dinner last night either and you have not had any food for two days prior.” He clicks the little spoon against the rim of the cup.

“Uhm…”

“We will have dinner shortly. You will finish everything you’re served. Here” Before Sizhui has time to react Hanguang-Jun leans forward, holding the cup up to his lips, his other hand coming around to hold the back of Sizhui’s head in place -so he can’t move his face away- making sure he finishes all the medicine.

Sizhui struggles to swallow, makes a strangled noise of protest but Hanguang-Jun’s hand and Wei Ying’s arm holds him in place. He’s forced to drink the thick, gloopy, unpleasant medicine. The taste shoots right up his nose to his brain. He can’t -won’t- swallow, big slimy glops collecting in his mouth and he whines and wriggles but Hanguang-Jun is relentless, he always is when giving him this medicine, because Sizhui always struggles against it. It’s the natural reaction to ‘the red stuff’. Spit it out and throw it as far away as you can, to put as much distance between yourself and it as possible. The bitterness burn on his tongue, but he won’t swallow. One thick glop slides down his throat on its own and Sizhui chokes, his stomach wants to cast it back up.

Once it’s empty Hanguang-Jun removes the cup and tips Sizhui’s head back so he can’t spit it out or vomit. It grows like something fermenting in his mouth, mixes with his own saliva -which only makes it worse- but in the end he has no options. He swallows. Hanguang-Jun releases him the second he’s assured all of the medicine has been swallowed and with a tight wince and shudder Sizhui sags back into Wei Ying’s chest, gasping for air. “There,” Wei Ying rubs his arms up and down soothingly “You did good.” He says proudly “I know it tastes horrible but it’s good for you. Hopefully it will help controlling your temperature.”

There’s a lot imbedded in that sentence. Those words ‘controlling your temperature’ combined with Wei Ying’s jester about his eyebrows and the soot on his clothes. It is material for a conversation Sizhui is not sure he’s ready to have yet but he’s equally sure he’s going to be forced to have very very soon. Like, tonight.

Hanguang-Jun had said they would discuss his fire today, after dinner, so there’s no getting out of this it seems.

Wei Ying’s laughter rings clear “I’m telling you, if it was me you had to feed that-” he flips his hand at the empty medicine cup “-yuck, you would have to tie me to the bed and pry open my—”

“mmhhmm” Hanguang-Jun hums shamelessly and Wei Ying’s beaming smile turns awkward a second before he launches forward covering Sizhui’s ears. “Lan Zhan! Not in front of the child!”

Sizhui pretends he hears nothing. He’s getting good at that -was always pretty good at it- and changes the subject “When’s dinner?”

Both his fathers turn to him with their eyebrows raised. “Are you finally hungry? Are you finally going to eat?” Wei Ying asks, he looks relieved.

Sizhui smiles lightly and tips his head “I want to get the taste of this ‘yuck’ out of my mouth. I would eat a whole pot of your anti-corpse-poisoning congee if it helped.” He teases and Wei Ying pinches his cheek in response.

“I will have dinner delivered.” As he gets up to leave Hanguang-Jun turns to Sizhui “You are still on light foods. Soup, rice and light greens.” He instructs and Sizhui nods because arguing will get him nowhere. They’re treating him like he’s sick. He's not sick. Something is going on inside him and he's not sure what but he's not sick. However, arguing with Hanguang-Jun is a waste of time.

"Lan Jingyi will be joining us."

Sizhui’s gaze snaps up, surprise evident on his face. "Jingyi?" he breathes out thinly and Hanguang-Jun nods.

The chance to see Jingyi makes Sizhui happy but it begs the question why. Why is Jingyi invited to a dinner that will precede an unwanted conversation about Sizhui’s fire? How much does Hanguang-Jun and Wei Ying know? Have they spoken to Jingyi? How much has he told them? Jingyi wouldn’t tell them anything without Sizhui’s say so.

OXXXO

When Jingyi arrives -along with Hanguang-Jun and their dinner- the first thing he does is sprint across the room to sweep Sizhui into a crushing hug, nearly lifting him off the floor. “I’m so glad you’re okay! You know, alive and unharmed! Please don’t go missing like that again!” he rambles, words pouring out of his mouth “I looked everywhere for you. I thought it was like before, you know like that night, and I would find you somewhere doing something dangerous in your sleep! But you were nowhere! I searched all over Cloud Recess and when I couldn’t find a trace of you I went and told Hanguang-Jun because I couldn’t do it on my own and I was scared! And then days passed and I started thinking something horrible might have happened to you. I saw Hanguang-Jun and Master Wei about to lose their wits, they were frantic! And the Old man ordered Cloud Recess to be turned upside down, basically!” His voice suddenly lowers to a whispering note “I didn’t know if I should tell them everything but I didn’t say anything about you know what.”

By now Sizhui is finding it a little hard to breathe. He pats Jingyi on the back. Wei Ying flounders up by their side and with a guiding hand placed gently on Jingyi’s shoulder he separates them, giving Sizhui much needed space to catch some air. “Why don’t you two have a seat and catch up while Lan Zhan and I set the table.” He grins at them and ruffles both their heads. Jingyi makes a sound of protest but Sizhui smiles under the treatment. Wei Ying laughs high and short and pushes them both simultaneously against the daybed, their knees catching the edge and just like that they’re sitting. Wei Ying spins around and leaves them there, skedaddling over to help Hanguang-Jun with the dinner dishes.

Jingyi takes a deep breath. “Are you okay?” he asks “I mean, on a whole. I came to see you when I heard your fathers had found you. Last night. I sat with you for about two hours while they went out” the tips of Jingyi’s ears turn pinkish and he averts his gaze down to the rumpled blanket they’re sitting on, he knows well enough what Hanguang-Jun and Master Wei were doing, so does Sizhui. “I’m not sure you remember, I’m pretty sure you were asleep the whole time. You had a fever. Where you sick? Is that why you-?”

Sizhui isn’t sure how to respond so he shakes his head and says “No. I succumbed to the fever after father and papa brought me back.”

“Oh, so… about that” he begins carefully but he can’t quite keep the eagerness out of his voice. “Where were you? Where did you go? Where did they find you?”

“The restricted mountains.”

Jingyi’s eyes grow wide and his jaw drops “the restricted mountains!?” He repeats Sizhui’s words with frightful awe. “Why would you go there? It's forbidden. …Are…” he lowers his tone “Are you in trouble now?” Sizhui shakes his head again “I don’t think so, not for this anyway…” 

“What do you mean?” Jingyi tips his head and Sizhui tries to shrug offhandedly -to seem unconcerned- he’s not sure it works. “I think they know about… you know what.”

Jingyi pales and a swear glides off the tips of his tongue. Sizhui flies to cover it with his hand. His effort is for nought however as Hanguang-Jun sends a quick reproachful glower their way and Jingyi stiffens. “Sorry, won’t happen again.” he mutters under the confines of Sizhui’s hand but Hanguang-Jun looks doubtful. “Dinner is ready.” He says.

Jingyi usually eats in a manner which befits him -fast and enthusiastically- but today he’s executing a surprising amount of restraint. He eats as much as allowed but refrains from his usual begging for Sizhui’s portions. Maybe it’s because they’re in the Jingshi, under the watchful eye of Hanguang-Jun, and not in the dining hall or maybe it’s because Sizhui’s serving tonight is a -very unappetizing- meagre child-sized portion of plain rice, simple vegetable broth soup and blanched leafy greens, which he nothing but picks at after only three bites.

Wei Ying finishes first, because he is the undefeated master of fast and enthusiastically -no pun intended- and Jingyi follows close behind. Hanguang-Jun takes the appropriate amount of time, by the time he sets his tea down Sizhui has hardly even started eating. He can’t stop thinking. How much does his fathers know? Fire cultivation is forbidden in Cloud Recess. What’s going to happen to him? If they know he’s been playing around with it, and Wei Ying knows that…

“Sizhui” Hanguang-Jun’s solid voice interrupts his thoughts and Sizhui starts “Huh!?” his head snaps up and he blinks. Large and wide as he takes in their empty dishes around the table and his own still full ones. How much time did he lose?

Jingyi chuckles at his stunned expression. Wei Ying leans forward slightly, worry pinched between his brows and Hanguang-Jun sighs "Finish your food. No one will be leaving the table until you have eaten all you have been served."

Sizhui looks down at his lukewarm bowl of rice. It’s no good, he’s probably gonna throw it up later, considering where this evening is going... “I’m not really hungry” he begins, mumbling quietly. It’s Wei Ying who interrupts him this time, with a firm shake of his head. “None of that.” He says strictly and scoots over, making a quick grab for Sizhui’s rice bowl. “You have not had a proper meal in days, you are not not hungry.” He loads up the chopsticks with rice and a small piece of soft steamed broccoli. “You need to eat. Say ‘Ahhh’”

Sizhui is so shocked his mouth drops and Wei Ying takes the opportunity to shove the bite in “There you go, good boy!” he beams happily as Sizhui chews and swallows. “Here, have some spinach, it’s good for your qi.” He encourages yet another bite at Sizhui’s lips. And once the initial shock settles Sizhui feels a sudden warmth wash through him. It’s different from the heat he felt before, this warmth starts as a burn behind his heart and grows, spreading throughout him with such overwhelming force it threatens to make him cry. It feels… good.

He opens his mouth again and again. Relishing in the happy look on Wei Ying’s face every time he accepts the food.

It’s continues like that, with Wei Ying feeding him, until Sizhui’s bowl of rice is empty and Wei Ying sets it down. “Well done” he praises cheerfully “Only the soup left now. You’ll see soon, it will be much easier to think with a full stomach. It’s going to make you feel better.” He chirps “Food is good for the soul. It helps.”

It’s Jingyi who passes him the cup of broth, Sizhui had almost forgotten he was there. It’s a startling reminder. Shit, Jingyi had just witnessed him being handfeed like a small child! But Jingyi makes no teasing comment, either verbal or through expression. His face remains neutral. In fact, he looks pleased. Sizhui feels a great deal of appreciation for his best friend. Jingyi had always been protective of him.

The soup goes down easily. It’s good. Sizhui warms it in his hands before drinking because it’s gone cold and what’s the point in hiding what he can do? They already know. Despite that they all watch him intently when he blows steam off the previously cold broth. It’s one thing to know something and another to see it manifested. 

Once he’s done -and once again embarrassingly -but oddly satisfyingly- praised for finishing his meal, by both Wei Ying and Hanguang-Jun- Sizhui and Jingyi are usured back to the daybed as Wei Ying clears the table -after having loudly refused their offered help- and Hanguang-Jun returns to his desk in order to finish up todays sect matters.

Grinning, Jingyi pulls him towards the daybed and pushes him down “Let me tell you all you’ve missed these past few days!” He does most of the talking, as per usual. He tells Sizhui about everything that’s been going on. Normal stuff. Not anything related to Sizhui’s vanishing act. Nie Yanyi apparently has a crush on Jingyi’s second cousin, senior sister Lan Haulin. Pei Fong had been offered a cup of tea by Lan Baoming and thrown up all over Baoming’s robes. Zun XieYin corrected Grandmaster Qiren in front of the whole class when he mixed up rule 231 with 2331 and he praised her for being right in correcting him. While leaving the Waxing Moon House Elder Fu RongXi slipped and fell down the steps, breaking his ankle. “Yi Ting said he saw him run and that's why he slipped." Jingyi looks a little giddy at the thought. He has a grudge with Elder Fu RongXi. "Disciple Yan Long got his head stuck in a pickles pot while chasing a rat out of the kitchen. Two guest disciples, Zhou Shengui’s friends Gu Zhao and Yao Yanzheng, picked on Little Apple and suffered the consequences.”

“Sizhui. Jingyi.” Seated at his desk, Hanguang-Jun calls them from across the room. “Come here. Wei Ying and I wish to have a talk with the two of you.” He speaks evenly, beckoning them to come as he clears the last letter for the day and sets his brush down.

Sizhui and Jingyi share a meaningful look between them and then quickly make their way over and kneel down in proper position, facing Hanguang-Jun. They knew this would come. Still, Sizhui feels a tight grip clench his stomach and he has to struggle to control his stuttering breathing. Jingyi’s calloused fingers brush against his hand and wraps around giving a supportive little squeeze. 

With a plate of sunflower seeds and peanuts in his lap Wei Ying flops down on the floor next to Hanguang-Jun. “The day you had the altercation with Lan Baoming” Hanguang-Jun starts and Sizhui ceases breathing “Wei Ying and I came to find you in the library. We did not bring it up at the time however, what we witnessed were you manipulating a candle flame—”

Sizhui clenches his eyes shut and all but refrains from wincing. Instead a pathetic little sound leaves his throat.

“You turned it into a bird.” Wei Ying supplies, cutting Hanguang-Jun off and Jingyi stiffens, his grip on Sizhui’s hand increasing.

Sizhui doesn’t remember that. He remembers the flame feeling like a hatching bird but he cannot recall it forming into a bird.

“A Martin, I think.” Wei Ying flips a peanut up and catches it with his mouth. “I’m not sure though. Didn’t get a good look at it, but some type of Swallow it was.”

Hanguang-Jun gives Wei Ying a flashing glance which he reciprocates with a cheeky grin. "Sorry, Lan Zhan. Go on". He winks and Hanguang-Jun exhales deeply. “Lan Jingyi also had the good sense to inform us of your frequent night terrors.” If facial expressions could talk the one Jingyi sends Sizhui right now would be saying “I swear, I didn’t tell them anything else!”

“We did not wish to push you but we were hoping you would come talk to us” Wei Ying sounds a lot more serious now and Sizhui ducks under the tone. Jingyi sends him another look of I told you so. “You need to start talking about these things. And you're going to have to.” The gravity of his voice snaps Sizhui into attention but Wei Ying says no more, instead it's Hanguang-Jun who speaks again.

“The day of the library fire” He reminds them, his voice even and firm “I found this discarded in a corner of the archives room.” He picks out a neatly folded nightrobe and places it atop the table. A nightrobe which is made of a thicker material. Jingyi freezes and Sizhui suddenly feels like wave of cold water washes over him, his vision prickles at the edges and nausea works its way up his throat. Jingyi latches on to him and Wei Ying is suddenly there behind him, holding him by the shoulders. “You looked like you were about to faint” His concerned voice is soothing, but Sizhui can barely hear it in-between the ringing in his ears and the floaty world before his eyes. He wants to pass out. Wei Ying rubs in gentle circles over his back as Sizhui sways back and forth until he topples over and his head falls on Jingyi’s shoulder. His breath stutters. Jingyi’s fingers tap their way up his arms and squeezes, hard. Then taps up a bit further and squeezes again, then turns around and starts moving down. It is something for Sizhui to focus on, something he can’t ignore. Tap, tap, tap, squeeze, tap, tap, tap squeeze. Jingyi continues until he reaches the end of Sizhui’s sleeves and takes his hands in his. Grasping tight. Squeeze, release, squeeze, release… it’s the rhythm of breathing! Sizhui realizes and half subconsciously he begins to follow it. When Jingyi squeezes his hands Sizhui inhales, when he releases his grip, he exhales.

They’ve done this before. Jingyi knows what he’s doing, has done it before. He knows what form of tactile comfort Sizhui needs, what works for him. “There you go.” He whispers. Sizhui’s forehead is still resting on Jingyi’s collarbone. He hums, a puff of hot breath that finds its way through the fabric of Jingyi’s robe and sweeps like a warm caress against his skin. Jingyi shivers.

Sizhui pulls back, somehow finds himself in Wei Ying’s hold instead and has a cold cup thrust into his hands. “Drink this” Wei Ying presses, guiding the cup to his lips “it’s water.” He tells him and Sizhui parts his lips letting Wei Ying help him drink.

Keeping his eyes closed, Sizhui makes no other effort than to swallow.

Wei Ying continues to hold him secure, rocking him gently and smoothly for what feels like a long time but may not be more than a few minutes at most. After a while a strong hand wraps around his wrist and Sizhui feels two fingers press against his pulse points. He’s sure, it’s Hanguang-Jun reading his Qi.

Sizhui opens his eyes and watches his father do the reading with his eyes closed in concentration. "Your qi flow is slow and erratic." He concludes, releasing Sizhui’s wrist and pulling back "Remain seated. Remember to breathe."

Sizhui nods weakly. He feels slightly queasy still and leans back heavily, resting his neck on Wei Ying’s shoulder. Closing his eyes, he tries to focus on his breathing, having it quell the nausea.

"Lan Zhan, this is what I meant before." Wei Ying’s voice sounds peeved. Sizhui opens his eyes again and sees the exchange of looks between his fathers in a flash. It's not so much a glare as a disapproving frown. So, this is what they had argued about…

Hanguang-Jun shakes his head. Wei Ying’s nose twitches and the line of his lips thins out as the corners of his eyes wrinkle ever so slightly. Something settles in Hanguang-Jun’s expression. Wei Ying’s face pinches and he still looks miffed. They’re having a whole conversion with their eyes.

Which Sizhui finds fascinating and Jingyi finds confusing, as he ticks a puzzled glance between them all but wisely chooses to remain still and quiet.

Wei Ying sighs heavily as he gives in and Sizhui wriggles to slip out of his hold. He feels a bit more settled, maybe his fathers were right in saying food helps. It’s easier to stay emotionally stable with a full belly. He might as well try to collect himself and hopefully he’ll get through the evening. There’s no getting out of this so going through with it is the only option. Schooling his face and posture is no problem -Sizhui has spent half a lifetime doing it- arranging a pretence air of neutrality around himself. He can fool the best, maybe even himself if he tries hard enough.

“You feeling better?” Wei Ying asks, worry knitting his brows as he scans Sizhui up and down. Sizhui sits up properly and nods “Yes. Thank you for giving me a minute.” He bows his head “I’m feeling better now, should we con—”

“You’re still pale as a corpse.” Jingyi quips and Sizhui’s practiced mask of neutrality falls for a second -he cannot fool Jingyi- and he sighs to himself. “I’m feeling better.” He repeats with more resolve, his words less hollow than before.

Jingyi shrugs easily “Doesn’t change the fact that you’re pale. But you’re always pale so, I guess that’s normal-ish.” Sizhui snickers on an exhale -short and muted- bless Jingyi’s frank honesty for always being able to bring his anxiety down and make him feel more relaxed, more sure …more grounded to the real world.

“Sizhui,” Hanguang-Jun sounds grave as he calls back their attention but the expression on his face is more concerned than grim “tell us what happened.”

Sizhui takes a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “I had a nightmare. …I don’t remember much more than that. I had a nightmare, woke up in our room” he gestures to Jingyi “feeling really bad. Next thing I know we’re sitting amongst the snowdrops outside the library and Jingyi is shaking me...” Sizhui stares down at his own, oddly numb hands “He told me what I did…” A tiny wet drop falls on his thumb. He’s crying. “I…I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to.” His voice thins, turns brittle “I don’t know what happened. I didn’t want it to happen! I’m sorry!” Sizhui crumbles. He has no right to ask for forgiveness. Not after what his sect used that very same fire to do here. And now he's brought it all back. Done it again, without consideration for the survivors of that time -among which both Hanguang-Jun and Grandmaster Qiren can be found- he has forced their memories back, forced them to relive the horror of what Wen fire did.

The Jingshi descends into silence. Sizhui squeezes his eyes shut, feeling a wet teardrop slide down his cheek, he’s waiting for… he’s not sure what he’s expecting will happen. The silence lasts, stretches out long, uncomfortably calm and heavy, it’s suffocating. Sizhui feels like he can’t take a breath out of fear of breaking the spell and letting the storm in.

“So, it was you who burned the archives room and you did it with Wen fire.” Wei Ying sounds somewhere on the scale of astound.

Sizhui cowers shamefully, lowering his head and pulling his shoulders up, as if he could hide in them, and nods.

“Did you sleepwalk?” He asks “Or was it similar in nature to the episode you suffered in the past few days? What did Lun Fu call it; a fugue state, wandering?”

“I don’t know,” Sizhui admits honestly

“I thought he sleepwalked that night.” Jingyi infers “but now, maybe not. It’s not the first fire incident he’s had at night. Maybe they’re all connected?”

“What other incidents?” Hanguang-Jun raps sharply and Jingyi looks like he internally slaps himself. “Uhm.., I told you about the nightmares before…” he starts, awkwardly seeking eye-contact with Sizhui, as if asking for his permission to tell. Sizhui stares down at his whitening knuckles and tries to remember how to breathe without choking.

Hanguang-Jun nods for him to continue. Jingyi draws a deep breath “There’s been fire. When Sizhui dreams or has his nightmares and stuff. In the beginning I tried to wake him up when he started tossing but he was so hot to the touch it was hard to get near him. Not like fever hot but hot hot. And then the fires started. First small then increasingly worse every night. He vomited fire a few times and burned his mattress and the ceiling! I cleaned it all up! Every time! I’m sorry, I should have said something sooner!” He bows deep to the floor, facing Hanguang-Jun. “If I had informed Hanguang-Jun of this matter this could all have been avoided, it is my fault! I will accept Hanguang-Jun’s punishment.”

“No.” Both Sizhui and Wei Ying says simultaneously. “It is not your fault, Jingyi.” Wei Ying goes on to say as he scoots over to scratch the top of Jingyi’s head, just like he had done that day at the sparring field. “It is true that it would have been better had you said something earlier, or rather, it would have been better if A-Yuan had told us. As he should have.” Sizhui flinches as Wei Ying casts him one quick flash of a reproachful glare.

Which he ducks under and mumbles a quiet but sincere. “I’m sorry.”

He squares his shoulders and inhales sharply before he bows “I did not intend to keep a secret and I understand that I have behaved poorly, done something horrible and brought up a lot of painful memories. I will accept your punishment.”

With a grievous sigh Wei Ying reaches out and buries his hand in Sizhui hair, gently carding through the strands. "Look at me" He says evenly and tips Sizhui’s face up “There might be consequences for the both of you, especially you” He addresses Sizhui in particular. “However, Lan Zhan and I haven’t decided if -or how- we’re going to discipline you. Or if we’re going to consider a harsh scolding enough this time.” He tells them. In the corner of his vision Sizhui sees Jingyi nod profusely, obviously more willing to take a scolding over discipline.

Sizhui swallows and tries to stop quivering.

“No one saw the fire, only the evidence of burning.” Wei Ying continues as he softly caresses Sizhui’s cheek in an effort to quench his anxiety. “They are all clueless as to what type of fire burnt the archives, it all looks the same. Wen fire does have a distinct mark but not even Lan Zhan and I can tell from charred remains of paper that they were burnt with Wen fire. We only knew you’d been there because we found the folded up robe, which is odd.” He tips his head “Why was it there? Did you take your clothes off first? Did you burn the archives naked?”

Sizhui flushes. Jingyi’s brows twitch up and the tips of his ears turn pinkish. Hanguang-Jun closes his eyes with an internal groan.

Jingyi awkwardly clears his throat “Oh, well” he rubs the back of his head with an embarrassed smile “That was me.” He admits “I brought it just in case, because Sizhui left our room without shoes, in nothing but a thin nightrobe for bed and it was cold out so I brought an extra robe with me when I went looking for him. …thought I lost it.”

“Well, that makes more sense!” Wei Ying trills on a short laugh before turning serious again. “You’re lucky Lan Zhan and I found it. I hope you understand that.”

Jingyi nods and settles back, accepting the handful of sunflower seeds Wei Ying throws his way. It’s a mess.

"As for your Wen fire, you showed some ability to control it this morning. You were quite apt." He casts Sizhui a look of visible pride, "However, you were transfixed by it and unable to comprehend reality around you while manipulating the flame. You did not respond when being spoken to until I raised my voice. Which shows you're not in complete control. The question becomes how much are you controlling it and how much is it controlling you?"

Sizhui blinks. “I don’t know. I’ve been working on controlling it. But when I’m asleep…” he trails off, lowering his gaze down to his hands, slowly opening and closing them a couple of times. A part of him wants to curl up and hide. All of it is distressing to think about.

Wei Ying studies him as if searching for the answer written on Sizhui’s face “…I will try and contact Wen Ning. Ask his thoughts. He doesn’t have Wen fire but Wen Qing did, he might have some insight in how this should be handled. I’m sure he knows more than I do.”

Oh! About that… Sizhui looks back up with a slight bashful smile “There’s no need. I know where Uncle is. I could go talk to him, if you’d give me permission to leave Cloud Recess?” he proposes. He must go on his own. Wen Ning had been very specific in saying he didn’t want anyone to know of his whereabouts other than Sizhui -and inadvertently Jingyi- He doesn’t want to bring anyone to Uncle who Uncle isn’t ready to see yet.

Wei Ying snorts shortly and humourlessly “Forget it.” He says in such a harsh no nonsense tone Sizhui feels his stomach do a flip and he somehow wants to apologise for suggesting it. He pulls back a little, avoiding Wei Ying’s dissatisfied gaze. “I…I…Un-un-cle…doesn’t—” he starts, stammering

Wei Ying humphs “You are not going anywhere unsupervised anytime in the near future.” He commands. “You are not leaving this house until we are convinced what happened won’t happen again. One more disappearing act and I’m tying a rope around you.”

In search of a different opinion -or perhaps a more reasonable decision- Sizhui casts a quick glance at Hanguang-Jun but finds him nodding along with Wei Ying’s ruling. “Sizhui is grounded.” He reaffirms with strict authority.

It is what it is. All Sizhui can do is bow his head and accept their decision with concealed reluctance. “Yes, Father. Yes, Papa.”

“Lan Zhan and I cannot teach you how to control the flame and neither can Wen Ning, but you may practice with it here at the Jingshi under supervised conditions.” Wei Ying leans over the table, getting down to the same level as Sizhui, steadily holding his gaze. “Always supervised, Sizhui. Remember that.” He expresses firmly, without room for negotiation. “You’re playing with something potentially dangerous. If we catch you using it intentionally without our permission, there’ll be consequences. Haven’t figured out what they’re going to be yet but there will be consequences. Understood?”

“yes.” Sizhui nods.

Wei Ying looks like he’s about to say something else but Hanguang-Jun cuts him off with a curt nod. “Good. You also need to start paying more attention to your classes. You’re not obligated to attend Baoming’s Diplomacy class, as it is an elected subject, however, your other classes require your attendance. Your education and progress will stagnate if you keep neglecting your studies.”

Sizhui draws in a breath “I know.” He averts his gaze “…I’ve been distracted.”

“We’ve noticed." The corner of Wei Ying’s lip suddenly twitches "You should be careful, if you skip any more of your classes, you will be having lessons with me” he says with a sparkle to his eye and a badly concealed grin. “I will have to pick up the slack and teach you talisman theory, array building and spellcasting.”

Sizhui tips his head and his eyes take on that adorably innocent little glint that makes Wei Ying wonder what this crafty kid is about to say. “But Baoming teaches diplomacy, are you going to give that a shot? With your track record?”

Wei Ying gives him a long blank glance then reaches over and quickly twists Sizhui’s ear. “Cheeky boy” he quips with a pout. Sizhui winces, it doesn’t hurt much and Wei Ying lets go almost immediately, but it’s part of their little rouse.

Wei Ying pulls back placing his hands on his hips. “Don’t think for a second that I won’t be a strict teacher.” He proclaims smartly and winks “You might miss your teachers after a couple of hours under my lecturing.”

Sizhui rubs his ear. “Doubt it.” He replies cleverly, eyes glittering with mirth.

“Eh…!” Wei Ying blinks. “In that case, I want to see you right here, first thing in the morning.”

“You sure about that?”

Oh, the sheer gall of this boy, but he’s right. Wei Ying revises, his boy knows him too well “Fine. Let’s say ten. Lessons starts at ten.”

Hanguang-Jun looks confused “Wei Ying?”

Wei Ying laughs out loud and Sizhui hides a giggle behind his sleeve. “We’re just kidding, Lan Zhan!”

Jingyi pops another round of sunflower seeds in his mouth and chews slowly, watching the scene playing out before him like it’s suspense entertainment.

Hanguang-Jun sighs lightly and shakes his head at their loveable antics. “Sizhui” He implores on a more serious note “if you no longer wish to take diplomacy you may change to another subject you find more suitable.”

Sizhui hesitates for a split second “May…may I take Herbalism instead?”

A seconds pause and then Hanguang-Jun gives him an understanding nod while Wei Ying looks equal parts surprised and proud. “I will speak with Lun Fu and Zhi RouYi. Even if you wish to focus on cultivating medicinal herbs in your garden, you must also learn and master the basics.”

“It’s also a motivation to take an elective subject you find purposeful” Wei Ying agrees, he chews a mouthful of sunflower seeds and then adds “Promise us you’ll make an effort with attending your regular classes. If you fail to do so, it will be the first thing that goes -along with your garden privileges- until you get your mandatory classes under control.”

It’s a hard ruling but not unlike Wei Ying. Flexible. Leaving it up to Sizhui to dictate the outcome. If he keeps up with his classes he gets his garden and lessons in understanding the principles of herbalism, if he skips he gets it all taken away.

He still wonders why they’re being lenient with him. No matter he’s recent poor behaviour and all he has done -or failed to do- they have not properly punished him once. Is Sizhui not worth the effort anymore? They no longer care enough to discipline him so they’re letting him do as he wishes. Or—

His thoughts are interrupted by the faraway resonation of the gong, signalling night-time curfew. Jingyi startles, cutting a swear short. “— I should have been back at the dorms long ago!” he exclaims with a frown.

Hanguang-Jun calmly shakes his head. “Do not fret. I will escort you back shortly.”

“Oh!” Jingyi bows his head “Thank you, Hanguang-Jun.”

Hanguang-Jun nods courteously at him before turning back to Sizhui. “Is there anything else?” He prompts. “The Wen fire and ‘The teachings of Wen Mao’, which I took off you. Is there anything else Wei Ying and I need to know about?”

Where to start?

Sizhui averts his gaze down with a troubled little line forming between his brows. Honestly there’s a lot more but he has neither the will nor the energy to expend to get through everything. But maybe there’s one thing he ought to tell them… “I…” he starts, twiddling his hands in his lap as he inhales deeply. This is going to be a difficult one. “I played Recollection.” He admits reluctantly, guilt gnawing at his insides as he lets his fathers know. He knows he shouldn’t have done that but at the time it had seemed like the only possible choice. He had wanted too much.

Wei Ying drops the plate of sunflower seeds, Jingyi flinches and gasps, Hanguang-Jun’s eyes widen in a way that is rare to see on him. “Recollection!?” Wei Ying whispers breathlessly as if he doesn’t want to believe it. “You played Recollection on yourself!?” his voice strains “When?”

Sizhui bites his lip, refusing to look up at anyone of them opting instead for staring at his hands curled into the fabric of his robe. “…In the burial mounds, while I was travelling with Uncle.”

“Hmm” Hanguang-Jun’s eyes thin down but he remains poised and calm. “Recollection enhances memories. How much of the past do you remember now?”

Sizhui feels his stomach curl “…Everything. Or… a lot. Uncle kinda got wrapped into it… I got some of his memories that involve me.” They’re fractured, flashing things. Sounds and colours and smells more than tangible memories, they tend to collect themselves in his dreams. Fuse together like piece in a puzzle to form the complete memory. Some are more complete than others.

Wei Ying makes a pained noise in the back of his throat. “Why would you do something like that?” he withers.

Sizhui fights the tears back “I wanted to remember my family, I wanted to remember their faces, granny’s face.” He hears his own voice going high. “I know I did something foolish. Uncle Ning scolded me, said I was only hurting myself—”

“And he was right.” Wei Ying cuts him off. He groans “You’re smart enough to understand the implications of playing Recollection on yourself in a place like the burial mounds. The place where it all happened. It will enhance the effect even more.”

“I know!” Sizhui cries, he’s not sure when he got back on his feet but he’s standing now “I know! I know! I know!” he repeats over and again, tone bordering on hysterical. He feels someone grab at his sleeve; it can only be Jingyi because Wei Ying is standing right in front of him and Hanguang-Jun is still sitting, even if he seems about ready to get up.

Wei Ying lurches forward. Catches Sizhui by the arms quicker than he has chance to grasp when or how Wei Ying moved so inhumanly fast. “Wen Yuan, calm yourself!” he commands with authority and Sizhui ceases to move, his breath hitches on a hiccup in his throat and he stills, instantly calm in his father’s bruising hold. Sizhui stares up at him with wide, unblinking eyes, face a picture of shock and hesitation. At once, Wei Ying releases some of the hard pressure he has on Sizhui arms but doesn’t let go “I’m sorry.” He says, voice aching. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Slowly Sizhui shakes his head “You didn’t” he tries to smile but it strains like something uncomfortable on his lips. He’s sure it doesn’t come out right. Wei Ying seems to notice because instantly his gaze softens even more as he peers down at him “It’s not a crime to want something.” He says in a low tone while stroking over Sizhui’s hair gently “but sometimes obtaining what we desire can be extremely painful and hurt us a great deal. You should understand that by now.”

Sizhui nods dully “I do. But I do not regret doing it.” He replies decisively.

“That’s fine. Actually, it’s probably for the better you don’t ever regret what you did.” Wei Ying sounds serious, he tilts Sizhui’s chin up. “Because if you did, it would swallow you.”

Sizhui lowers his eyes and nods quietly, he suddenly feels so very tired again. It’s getting late, he wants to go to bed and sleep for three days. Swallowing around the lump of saliva in his mouth he wets his lips “I understand.”

“Good boy!” Wei Ying beams at him, wide and toothy. He looks slightly demented, in a good way. “Now—” he wiggles a fostering finger in Sizhui’s face “Lan Zhan, why don’t you follow young Jingyi back to the dorms while I go over our new set of family rules with A-Yuan.”

Hanguang-Jun stands with a nod beckoned at Jingyi who quickly scrambles up to follow his lead. “Sizhui needs to rest.” He rules as he secures Bichen at his waist “and will spend the next few days in his room reflecting over his behaviour and what has been said here tonight. He should also spend his time in meditation in order to centre himself. It may prove helpful.”

THE END CHAPTER 3

Chapter Text

A/N: Buckle up. For Sizhui things are going to get harder. More frustrating and confusing. This chapter is dedicated to the emotional spiralling and it’s effects.
Poor Sizhui, I’m being so mean to him but I'm also offering some comfort. And Wen Ning.

OXXXO

It takes some persuasion before his fathers allow him to leave the Jingshi and return to the dorms and his regular obligations. He must concede to have yet another array set up around his and Jingyi’s room, this one will immediately alert Hanguang-Jun if their door is opened between night-time curfew hours. And Sizhui vows to himself to try and uphold what he promised them; don’t intentionally use the fire unsupervised, attend all his classes, check in with them every day -preferably several times a day so they can keep an eye on him- come for dinner every evening if possible.

He’s going to do it.

He’s going to be good.   

Three hours after being let out of the Jingshi he’s back in his dorm room and have come up with the idea to try once again using his guqin as a medium to gain control of the fire. Eyes closed he follows the harmonizing tones reverberating from the instrument. Imagines them moving through the air like rolling waves, a soft calm swell, rippling off each string, dancing in the breeze, rhythmically fluttering like a pulsating surge. The tones touch and flicker the flame, it breathes and… he smells something burning!

Sizhui opens his eyes. The horrid screech of the final chord breaking the spell. The papers Jingyi had just signed -under much duress and huffing, before he left to get snacks- are smouldering. Glowing ember eating its way in from the edges. Quickly Sizhui hurries to blow it out but it only makes it worse. His breath fuels the ember consuming the papers so he stops and starts beating on it with sleeve covered hands instead and it seems to have effect, albeit not good enough. Several letters are reduced to ash and even more have blackened frayed edges, lost signatures and barely readable words.

Ops.

For one quick second he contemplates hiding the evidence, because it’s going to make Jingyi cry miserably but that’s not really an option. Sizhui knows he’s going to have to own up to this one, to Jingyi and Hanguang-Jun at least. They’re the ones who’re going to have to re-do the work.

Sizhui is right, partially. When Jingyi returns he doesn’t cry but he freezes in the doorway and drops the bag of peanuts, which all roll across the floor, as he sags down on his knees. “Why!?” he wails in despair “Why would you!? All my hard work! Don’t you think I have enough!?”

Jingyi is being a bit overdramatic but still, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” Sizhui apologises bashfully.

Jingyi sighs, dropping his head. “I know you didn’t mean to; you wouldn’t do it intentionally” his head snaps back up and he points straight at Sizhui with a flashing passing through his eyes “But still, Bad Sizhui!” He says like he’s reprimanding Fairy and Sizhui can’t help but laugh. Which in turn makes Jingyi grin proudly “If I knew being treated like a dog would make you so happy I would have done it sooner.” He beams happily.

Wen dog!

Sizhui doesn’t stop smiling but something inside him cracks and falls, shattering to tiny sharp pieces in the pit of his gut.

Jingyi seems to notice something’s off, their merry little moment has been lost. “I’m joking, you know.” He assures quickly. “Don’t worry about any of this. I’ll handle it” he flips his hand at the pile of ashen letters “I’ll talk to Hanguang-Jun tomorrow. I’m sure he’ll understand and help. I’ll tell him I tripped and dropped them in the mud, tried to dry them with a fire talisman and set it all on fire instead. He’ll believe me. I’m clumsy. I’ve hit a growth spurt; I’m growing so quick my brain can’t keep track of where my arms and legs are anymore.”

It's true but not the reason why Jingyi is clumsy.

Sizhui nods absently. Trying to collect the shattered pieces strewn across the bottom of his stomach. Logically he knows Jingyi would never condemn him like that. It was just a well-meaning joke that ended up out of place for no fault of Jingyi’s. But it still hurts. And Sizhui feels oddly ridiculous about feeling this way over a merry joke by a friend who would never hurt him intentionally.

“Hey,” Jingyi rubs his nose with that palm of his hand. "What's wrong?" He asks.

Sizhui doesn’t answer and Jingyi seems to accept that. He takes the ruined documents out of Sizhui’s hands and rolls them up, ties them up and unceremoniously throws them into a corner like trash. “Since you ruined my snacks I guess I’ll just go to bed early.” He says and turns back to Sizhui with a grin “you should do the same.”

It’s not a half bad idea…

OOXXXOO

The following day end up being strange. He does check in with his fathers right after breakfast. And he once again promises them to go to classes but, for some reason, his class attendance ends up being sporadic by a stretch of the word. He attends Grandmaster Qiren’s class first thing in the morning after visiting his fathers. After that a sudden burst of impulsive curiosity prompts him to ignore the rest in favour of sneaking out of Cloud Recess to go see Uncle Ning.

It's reckless, irresponsible and inconsiderate but Sizhui does it anyway. Without informing anyone. Not even Jingyi. But even without being told Jingyi will probably cover for him again -just like every time- but he’s not going to be happy about it. 

Sizhui cares but he also doesn’t care. He cares about Jingyi’s feelings and his fathers’ but it’s overridden by his need for answers. Sometimes, some things become secondary without our intention for them to be so, because two wishes cannot always be met equally. They contradict each other and Sizhui follows the spur of the moment because everything feels a bit distorted recently. This is what his life has become.

As soon as he sees Wen Ning -poking at the ground outside his dilapidated old shed with a stick- Sizhui waves high in the air “Uncle!” he beams.

Wen Ning greets him with a wide, kind lopsided smile. “A-Yuan.” He gets up and shuffles over to meet him, enveloping Sizhui in a tight embrace. It’s a little too tight but nowhere near as bone crushing as they had been initially before Wen Ning started working on controlling his strength. He still has issues with gauging how much strength he’s using. Sizhui hugs him back, making sure to squeeze as hard as he can, because his uncle cannot feel warmth but he can perceive pressure. Without letting go he puts his chin against Wen Ning’s chest and peers up “How are things going, Uncle? Have you fixed the shed yet?”

Wen Ning shakes his head “Still working on it. But I fixed the roof so it doesn’t rain in anymore.”

Sizhui releases him and frowns. “What about the broken windows? And the rotten wall timbers? And you said you would replace the stomped floor with actual wood. Do you have a real bed? You said last time you would make one?” He fusses “I brought sheets and some fabrics to make it feel more like a home” he rummages through his bag and pulls out two sets of fabric samples.

Wen Ning rubs the back of his head and would probably have blushed had he still been able to. “No.”

“No?” Sizhui looks and tilts his head “No to what?”

“All of the above.”

“Uncle!” Sizhui can’t help but fuss. While on their way back Wen Ning had expressed a desire to live close to Sizhui but away from people and not inside Cloud Recess. It was Sizhui who had suggested the run-down old hut hidden in the back mountains just outside the boarder. It was very close to but out of bounds from Cloud Recess. Most of the path up to it had been destroyed in a storm flood eight years ago, leaving only a tiny trail along the unstable rock wall with a steep drop to an untimely death if you took a wrong step. -One of the first things Wen Ning had done was tunnel through the rock so Sizhui would have a safe way to travel back and forth- Sizhui had felt bad about suggesting to his uncle to live in the hut. It had been in an awful state. Basically no roof to speak of, earthen floor, rotten through timbers, cracked windows and it smelled of musk and wet rotten wood.

Wen Ning had said it was enough as long as he got to be close to his family. It was Sizhui’s idea that he fix the shed up and make it habitable. Put in some floors and a place to cook -Wen Ning reminded him he does not need to eat, Sizhui reminded him he might get guests who do and a cooktop is good to have when preparing certain medications- board up the windows if they cannot be fixed and replace the rotten timbers.

Apart from the now waterproof roof, not much have changed. Wen Ning’s focus had obviously been on establishing the medical and herbal garden he had set up just outside the shed. Some of the more obscure plants -that Sizhui could not bring into Cloud Recess- now grew lush in the fertile soil outside Wen Ning’s hut.

Wen Ning scratches the back of his head and a large lump of dried mud falls out of his hair “Sorry, A-Yuan. I built a fireplace outside, look.” He points at a sad circle of stones on the ground with a pile of dry twigs inside. It’s the saddest fire Uncle ever made.

“It’s not lit.” Sizhui points out and Wen Ning looks at it, blinking “Ah. Haven’t gotten to that yet.” He looks bashful. Sizhui smiles then lets out a soft giggle moving over to the firepit and sweeps his hand over the dry branches lighting them up with a furious whoosh. They burn fast, shrivelling up to nothing in no time.

Wen Ning tilts his head “A-Yuan” he speaks warily, Sizhui can’t look at him opting instead for observing the flames dying down to glowing sticks of ember. Wen Ning squats down next to him. “A-Yuan” he beckons again and Sizhui raises his gaze, peering up at his uncle. “Just now, you…” 

“Do you know it, Uncle?”

“Wen fire.” He responds lightly 

Sizhui turns his gaze back to the blackened aches in the firepit “I figured as much…” he picks up Wen Ning’s stick and pokes at the aches. “…I… never understood before. Never knew. …it’s always been there but I ignored it, supressed it. Hid it.” He lets the stick go and it falls into the pit bursting into flames “it’s getting harder to do that now. I can’t do it anymore. I sleep and set the room on fire. I wake up covered in soot. I’m losing control…” he hugs his knees and Wen Ning tilts his head with concern pinched between his brows. “But I’ve been working on it.” Sizhui hurries to say “I’m getting better at controlling it at will when I’m awake. It’s what happens when I’m asleep that’s the problem.”

There’s a beat of silence between them, a too long pause, and then Wen Ning asks evenly. “Have you wandered?”

Sizhui looks up at him, wide-eyed and confused “Huh!?”

“Have You Wandered?” He repeats more keenly, as if it's supposed to mean something, urging Sizhui for an answer “Woken up in a different place, confused and surrounded by fire or burned out remains.”

Sizhui is speechless. He stares at his uncle with lips slightly parted and a look of stunned shock on his face. How did Uncle know. “… yes, I think so.”

Wen Ning nods as if it makes sense. “You are having your Fire Surge.”

“Fire Surge?”

“You are a pure-blooded true Wen with strong cultivation. That you would have a fire surge is only expected, I should have thought of it, and forewarned you. I didn’t. I’m sorry.” He looks apologetic. Sizhui opens his mouth to absolve him but Wen Ning beats him to it. “Essentially it means an increase of your Wen fire. It is growing stronger and more powerful. It can be quite an erratic time. It takes time for the body mind and spirit to grow accustomed to the fire, for them to fuse.” He gets a sudden look of contemplation on his face “…is there a bird?”

Sizhui nods subconsciously. It’s a strange question to ask but he thinks about the feeling of the hatching egg and his fathers mentioning of the fire turning into a bird. …And the shriek in his dreams. It could be a bird!

“The fire bird. It’s going to want to merge with you. That’s what takes time. You need to be careful in the weeks and months ahead A-Yuan, until the fire bird has merged with your core you will be unable to control it. It causes wandering. I don’t know why.” Wen Ning shakes his head woefully as he simultaneously inspects another of Sizhui’s second hand finds, a box of medicine bottles. “I woke up to Sister walking in circles around our garden well once when she had her Fire Surge. Another time Wen Chao found her in a field of turnips, he said she pulled them out of the ground and burned them… I don’t know if he was telling the truth though…” he reminiscences.

Sizhui tips his head “Did no one inform you that I went missing for two days?” Jingyi should have. He’s the only one who knows Wen Ning lives here.

Wen Ning drops the box of ceramic medicine bottles Sizhui had bought in town earlier. Fortunately, because he’s squatting and close to the soft, muddy grass ground, none of the bottles brake. “You wandered for two days!” he looks aghast and drags himself unbelievably fast across the ground to Sizhui “A-Yuan, I’m sorry! I… I should have been there for you!” he apologizes miserably. “N… No one told me you where—!”

Sizhui grabs Wen Ning’s hands “Don’t worry, uncle.” He soothes. “Father and Papa found me. They brought me back, made sure I was examined by a healer, got a bath, some food and put me on bed rest.” He smiles even wider and it seems to reassure Wen Ning who nods mutely “They take good care of you.” He murmurs “Always did. Granny would be relived.”

Sizhui flushes faintly and his smile turns a little sad. He gives Wen Ning’s cold fingers a supportive squeeze and receives one back, light and careful. They both miss them.

This moment between them last until…

“Let’s talk inside” Wen Ning suggests “I’ll make tea. I have some I bought just for A-Yuan and young master Jingyi.” He stands, dusts himself off and helps Sizhui up. “Please do not bother for my sake, Uncle.” Sizhui smiles up at him “Besides, how will we make tea without a well-developed fire to heat the water?” It’s supposed to be a playful jab at his uncle’s fire-pit making skills but Wen Ning gives him a long look then shakes his head. It’s hard to tell if he takes it as a joke or if he seriously wonders if Sizhui is stupid. “Wen.” Is all he says.

“Oh!” Sizhui exclaims and ducks his head to hide the light pink sheen adorning his cheeks “right, I can heat water.” He grins sheepishly and rubs the back of his head.

Wen Ning responds with a full smile and nudges him inside.

Much to Sizhui’s pleasant surprise the inside of Wen Ning’s little hut is drier and cosier than it had been last time he was here. There are no floorboards but the earthen layer has been covered with something resembling an old bamboo carpet. He has actually added a bed and even though it’s not raised off the ground and only padded with straw it seems soft. Sizhui makes a mental note to bring blankets. The books and scriptures they had found in the Qishan library sit stacked against the least weather-worn wall. There’s a small table in the middle and a shelf packed with small bowls filled with powders and leaves, left out to airdry. Bundles of drying herbs and flowers -neatly tied with string- hang from ceiling, Sizhui recognizes most of them. He goes over their names and properties in his head as he takes a seat by the desk and Wen Ning pulls a box out from the stack beside the bed, retrieving two beautiful red and gold gaiwan teacups -one missing its lid and with a crack down the side- he gives himself that one and hands the whole one to Sizhui.

There’s nothing fancy about the way they prepare the tea. Wen Ning pours filtered water straight into the cup and Sizhui warms it with his hands before adding the tealeaves. It’s a shame really, the tealeaves Wen Ning have are high-end, fragrant and flavoured with jasmine. Sizhui soaks up the sweet scent as it begins to rise, he’s always loved jasmine. But they’re not doing the tea justice by this method of steeping. The water is too hot and the steep isn’t right, Sizhui knows the tea is going to be bitter.

He doesn’t care, as long as it’s fragrant enough for his uncle to enjoy. Wen Ning can’t drink the tea -or he could but it’s going to go straight through him- but he had once expressed that he greatly appreciates the scents of food and drink even if it’s useless for him to eat and drink.

“Which method have you used when trying to control the fire?” he asks, settling down across from Sizhui.

Sizhui takes a sip, the tea is indeed bitter but not as bad as he thought, surely down to the quality of the leaves. “What I can do with my conscious mind is limited to a small flame. Any more than that and I…” he hesitates, stares long at the steam rising from the tea “…loose myself to it.”

Wen Ning nods carefully, a deep pinch set between his brows “I understand, I think—”

Sizhui looks up. “I tried using a medium.” He cuts his uncle off. “My Guqin. Hanguang-Jun taught me that it can be utilized as a channel when something is too powerful to be safely handled on its own. But, at first it didn’t work and then it sort of created a huge fire ball that fortunately burned itself out very quickly without causing any damage.”

Wen Ning blinks at him -probably a little taken aback by Sizhui’s sudden fretful candour- and then sighs. “Gusu-Lan teaches control through restraint. Which, I do not intend to be disrespectful but from our perspective as Wen’s, it is a somewhat flawed approach. Because with Wen fire it’s the opposite. You will gain control by setting it free, letting it loose and embracing the wildness of the flames and you will find that it mirrors the spark inside all living creatures. The purpose is to find balance. To walk side by side in harmony with each other.”

Sizhui clutches the warm teacup closer “…I cannot do that in Cloud Recess” he responds in a low tone. Wen Ning nods lightly “That would be unwise.” He frowns “Have you spoken with Master Wei and Second Master Lan? I sure Master Wei can…” he trails off at the sight of Sizhui’s minute nod.

“…I’m not allowed to use the fire without their permission, especially not in Cloud Recess. But-” Sizhui feels tension between his brows. How to explain that the fire feels like something he wants to scratch flowing through his blood stream “It’s…” the pinch he feels between his eyes is going to earn him a headache this evening “it’s like an itch. Does that make sense?”

To his surprise Wen Ning nods and hums agreeably. “I think so, yes. …You need to let it out. Learn how to control it even in its wildest form. If you continue to restrain it it will eventually hurt you. Or others. That’s the fire madness. The great Clan’s may speak of the fire madness of the Wen but what they speak of is not true fire madness, just Wen fire on the offensive. True fire madness is…” he shakes his head “I’m not sure. Uncle Six used to tell us stories as kids. They were scary, I couldn’t sleep for days.” He suddenly looks sad “I’m sorry, A-Yuan. I cannot be of more help. My sister would have known how to handle this. She would have helped you.”

Sizhui reaches across the table and clasps Wen Ning’s hand “No, Uncle Ning” he tries to smile “You have already given me more answers and direction than I could have asked for. I will heed your advice.”

Once again Wen Ning squeezes his hand back and looks back up, capturing Sizhui’s eyes with the same uncharacteristically grave gaze Sizhui had only a seen a few times while on their travels -on the occasions they found themselves in potentially dangerous situations- and Uncle Ning had rebuked him.

“Don’t do anything reckless, A-Yuan.” He cautions now.

“I won’t. I will not allow myself to succumb to fire madness.”

“Good.”

There’s another pause, a slightly awkward silence between them and Sizhui sinks back into his thoughts for a while until “A-Yuan” Wen Ning starts “Last time you visited with Young Master Jingyi…”

Sizhui nods, sets his now cold and empty cup down. Something in Uncle’s tone curls a knot tight in his gut. “After you both returned home,” Wen Ning continues thoughtfully, his gaze sweeping towards the stacks of books and scripts along the wall “I noticed—”

“’The teachings of Wen Mao’” Sizhui hurries to say, not minding how he rudely interrupts “I took it. I know I should have said something, I should have asked. I apologise Uncle, please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad—” Wen Ning begins to say in a low tone but Sizhui is once again quick to digress “I intended to bring it back but I can’t. Don’t worry, I didn’t lose it in Cloud Recess. My fathers found out I had it, Hanguang-Jun forced me to give it up. He has it in the Jingshi now.”

Wen Ning blinks… his mouth opens but there’s nothing but the low beginnings of a stutter. Sizhui feels awful. He going to have to make this up to Wen Ning. Next time he’ll bring more gifts.

Somewhere far away a gong resonates, throws its sound between peaks and crevasses as an unmistakeable reminder. “Ah! That’s my cue to go home.”

If something like a flash of disappointment ghosts over Wen Ning’s face it is very brief and in the next second he is standing to escort Sizhui out and wave him off. “A-Yuan,” he starts with a note of mild concern in his voice and Sizhui turns back. “Be careful. Be safe.” Wen Ning’s voice may be concerned but his eyes are firm. “I’m here, if-when you need me. You are always welcome. This home is our home.”

It's an invitation. Sizhui knows it is. An opening to tell him this is a place he can always come to and feel safe being himself along with someone who understands. A place where he can cast away the robes of Lan and wear the robes of Wen, figuratively. …and literally because Sizhui owns three sets of Wen robes that his uncle keep in box inside the shed. Some days -but not every day- he wants to wear them, let the world see, but he’s still too afraid. And Uncle Ning had cautioned him against wearing the Wen robes in public because there’s no saying what some people might do.

“Yes, Uncle Ning. I promise I’ll stay safe.” He smiles and waves before setting off back towards Cloud Recess.

Wen Ning lingers waving until A-Yuan is long gone beyond the shrubbery that covers the path in the mountain. He frowns. It was not the whereabouts of ‘The teachings of Wen Mao’ Wen Ning had wanted to know about but the missing book of toxic herbs and their properties, preparation and symptoms.

OXXXO

It had been presumptuous of him to assume he had gotten away with it his little outing. He had returned back too late, the main gate had already been locked, but sneaking over the wall is easy. And Sizhui knows he had not been seen doing it because had someone seen they would have mentioned it. But he was able to walk back to the dorms undisturbed. Even the oddly silent Jingyi had refrained from questioning him. However, Sizhui had noticed the quiet looks sent his way all evening and when they got up the next morning. But as long as Jingyi said nothing Sizhui wouldn’t either. It’s a silent agreement, he thinks.

Maybe he’s pushing Jingyi away? Jingyi has enough on his plate, he doesn’t need Sizhui’s erratic, frustrating thoughts and feelings to deal with. It’s for his own good really, Sizhui is stirring up trouble for himself and he knows it. When he goes down it’s better for Jingyi to not be involved in any of it.

Sizhui knows. Of course, he knows, he’s behaving erratically. Instead of going to classes he sneaks off or plays with fire. Even though he had promised his fathers he wouldn’t use the fire or leave Cloud Recess without their permission.

It had been presumptuous of him to assume he had gotten away with it.

He hadn’t.

Hanguang-Jun sends for him he already the next day and before midmorning Sizhui finds himself kneeling on the floor of the Jingshi facing his well poised and austere father figure standing tall before him. "Yesterday you did not attend classes as required." The tone is strict but neutral.

Sizhui drops his head.

"You were observed leaving Cloud Recess but not returning.” He adds and Sizhui feels those words, knows his mistake. They knew he had snuck in because the guards had seen him leave but they had not seen him return before gate closing but he had been inside the walls the next morning.

Oops.

“I should have informed the guards you were not allowed to leave without permission.” Wangji had thought that Sizhui understood he was not allowed to leave. Perhaps he should have confiscated his token to the front gate. Narrowing his eyes, he fixes Sizhui with a discerning gaze. “Where did you go and what did you do? Whom were you with? How long?" He demands to know.

Sizhui bites his lip and refuses to answer. He can’t. Because he can’t tell them about Uncle Ning’s whereabouts.

Wangji observes him for a few minutes, expecting an answer but when he receives none he turns away, walking back to his desk and his duties. “Sizhui will kneel on the floor until he chooses to explain himself.” He rules.

Over the next hour or so Wangji immerses himself in his daily paperwork while casting the occasional quick glance at Sizhui’s suspended presence. The boy doesn’t move, he kneels where he had been told to stay put with his head down and fingers gripping at the robes across his lap. He looks chastised but not ready to talk.

Perhaps another thirty minutes pass and then…

“Father?”

“Yes.” Wangji simply acknowledges.

“…There are some things I cannot say, by no choice of mine, but because I made a promise to someone else.”

‘Interesting.’ Setting the brush down Wangji looks up “Continue” he prompts giving Sizhui his full attention.

Sizhui swallows, he seems troubled. “Answering your questions would force me to break the promise I made. What should I do?”

Wangji blinks, takes a deep breath and gives himself a moment to meditate on the question. Sizhui is underage and there’s a fine line between his well-being and adhering to the rules. However, breaking a promise can be a hard thing to do even if it is for your own good, or the good of others. “Of the questions I asked is there any you can answer without breaking the promise?”

Thoughtfully Sizhui nods “I went to speak with someone familiar, for some answers to ease my mind. I was with that person until the gong. I would have made it back before Gate closing if not for my own idleness.”

“What distracted you?”

Sizhui flushes “A rather large iridescent butterfly…” and Wangji struggles to control his facial muscles because of course it’s a butterfly. With this child if it’s not a flower it’s a butterfly. “I see” he affirms. “So, you have spoken to Wen Ning?” Wangji assumes, no demand for an answer in his voice. It makes it clear to Sizhui he is free to answer or omit as he wishes. The question is posed in the same tone one might enquire about the weather.

One breath, two and then Sizhui makes up his mind. “yes” he answers quietly, a barely noticeable stammer to his voice. It’s not breaking a promise if his father figured it out himself. Right?

Wangji hums his approval. “And did he help ease your mind? Could he provide any solutions to your troubles?”

Sizhui nods. “Perhaps, but it’s troublesome.”

“Alright.” Wangji reaches for his rather significant stack of letters to complete for the day. “Wish to talk about it.”

Sizhui contemplates it but he sees the workload on his father’s desk and shakes his head. “Not today. I need more time to gather my own thoughts.”

“mhm” Hanguang-Jun nods “Preferably you’ll do that after classes and while remaining within the walls.” It is not a request. Those words basically mean to tell him he is confined to Cloud Recess today and not allowed to leave. They also tell him, they know about all his little outings.

“You may leave.” Wangji tells him “Come back after classes. You will copy rules 346-412 thirty times.”

Sizhui rises and bows “Yes, father. Hanguang-Jun.”

OXXXO

Sizhui does as told and returns to the Jingshi directly after finishing his last class for the day. Hanguang-Jun has already set up a desk for him -which means he will not have to copy in handstand- and everything is laid out and prepared for him. Hanguang-Jun is still at his desk, working his way through the increasing stack of letters. If Sizhui didn’t know better he could think Hanguang-Jun hadn’t moved all day.

He enters, bows and waits.

Hanguang-Jun looks up and greets him with a short nod “Get to it.”

He finds a rhythm pretty quickly. It’s not really a difficult punishment, just tedious and once he’s finished here he still needs to complete his class work. He needs to find and copy a seventh point array for Qiren’s class. Zhi Rouyi had asked for a detail of five herbs which affect lower back pain. Lun Fu wanted a review of the main Qi-points of the hands.  

Basically he’s got a lot of homework to do and very little time to get it done because Sizhui is sure his fathers will want him to stay for dinner. Speaking of fathers… “Father, where is Papa?” he knows he’s not supposed to speak during punishment but he has not seen Wei Ying all day and frankly it’s worrying.

“Meditating in the evergreen garden.” Hanguang-Jun responds without raising his gaze from the letter he’s reading. “The Elders are requiring of Wei Ying to perform a cleansing ritual that will be quite harrowing. He needs to strengthen his golden core as much as possible before hand.”

“Oh” Sizhui feels his grip on the brush increasing and Hanguang-Jun notices “Do not worry” he reassures him “This ritual is not something beyond Wei Ying’s spiritual capability to handle. It is however quite taxing on the body and mind. He will require a few days to rest in order to recover from the physical and mental stress. Do not cause him worry during this time.”

Sizhui understands perfectly. He will try his darndest to be on his best behaviour so as to not upset Wei Ying in any way that will add additional stress. He want his papa to recover quickly and will do everything in his power to help make that happen.

As if on cue the door to the Jingshi slides open and Wei Ying staggers through. Hanguang-Jun is up and by his side in a flash. Wei Ying throws his arms around his neck and hangs on “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan!” he laments dramatically “Do not make me meditate anymore! It’s boring! I’m hungry!”

“It is not yet dinner time. Wei Ying must be patient. Go have a bath. I need to finish work and Sizhui must finish his punishment then we can eat.”

A look of confusion settles on Wei Ying’s face. “Sizhui?” he blinks. “Punishment?” He surveys around the room and spots Sizhui who -in the spirit of offering his fathers privacy- has returned to copying. “A-Yuan?” He flounders over and leans down at the waist spying over Sizhui’s shoulder. “Aah, copying rules. What did you do to deserve this? Did you sneak out?” there’s a touch of proud glee in his voice.

Sizhui smiles “Technically, I snuck in.”

Wei Ying grabs his shoulder from behind and leans down, close to perching his head on Sizhui’s shoulder. “Cheeky. Don’t say you thought for a second that we don’t know about you sneaking out.” He says daringly. “We don’t know where you go when you slip over that wall but I’ve got a few ideas.”

Sizhui stops writing but Hanguang-Jun responds before he gets a chance to. “He goes to see Wen Ning.”

“Oh! So, Wen Ning is close by. I thought so.” Wei Ying taps the side of his nose. “He does not wish to reveal his location to us? We could use him right now, after all—”

“It is Wen Ning’s choice.” Hanguang-Jun interrupts, returning to his desk and picking up where he left off. “Now, do not disturb Sizhui while he is serving his punishment. We will not have dinner until he has finished.”

Wei Ying tuts “Lan Zhan, so strict.” He pouts.

XOOOX

Over the next few days Sizhui starts and spends -as much time as he can- in his new up-and-coming herbal garden. His anxiety for Wei Ying is the weight of a constant solid rock in the pit of stomach that makes it even harder to focus on classes. Logically he knows Hanguang-Jun will never let anything happen to Wei Ying but Sizhui can’t help his thoughts spiralling into some very dark places. On the day in question, he barely makes it through Qiren’s class without vomiting -bless Jingyi and his tapping fingers against his arm-.

Sizhui is not allowed to be anywhere near the site during the ritual but he strategically places himself on the way between the Mingshi and the Jingshi so he can see Wei Ying as soon as possible afterwards.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have done that. Because he observes Hanguang-Jun carrying the limp form of Wei Ying in his arms back to their home. And Sizhui had not been prepared for that. He had not been prepared for how lifeless Wei Ying would look, how pale and tattered.

He looks dead. Hanguang-Jun is carrying a corpse!

Images flash before his eyes and Sizhui flees. He turns around and runs from that. Runs into the Jingshi’s back garden and collapses behind a formation of three rocks, curling into a tight little ball with his knees tucked close to his chest he covers his ears and tries to remember how to breathe. He’s not sure how long he sits there. Probably not long, because his breathing is still rough and fitful when a pair of large, cold hands comes to cover his and gently pulls them away from his ears. Sizhui lifts his eyes and Hanguang-Jun’s concerned gaze meets him. “Wei Ying is alright.” He reassures “He is only sleeping.”

Sleeping? Sleeping! People don’t look like corpses when they sleep! 

Hanguang-Jun seems to sense Sizhui’s distress and his gaze softens “The cleansing was more taxing than expected. Wei Ying is in a deep sleep. He will require a few days to recuperate. I assure you he will be alright.”

Sizhui feels like something inside him bursts. That stone of anxiety implodes and relief sweeps over him like a tidal wave, takes that slush of anxiety with it and… Sizhui surges forward and vomits across the gravel.

Hanguang-Jun holds him through it. One hand on his shoulder, the other supporting his forehead as Sizhui hacks and spits up the last meagre contains of his stomach.

He’s still shaking when Hanguang-Jun helps him up and leads him back inside to see Wei Ying. He is just sleeping. Sizhui can see the rise and fall of his chest and up close there’s actually still colour to his skin. Sizhui carefully touches his hand and it’s warm, he can feel the life in it. It’s… it’s another wave of nauseating relief.

Hanguang-Jun soon returns with a bowl of water, a towel and a cup on a tray. “This will help you settle.” He says and Sizhui accepts the cup as it is handed to him. It is not water but he recognises the smell of a valerian infusion. 

“Finish all of it.” Hanguang-Jun dips the towel and wrings it out, placing it on Wei Ying’s forehead. “I have sent for Jingyi.” He informs “He will take you back to your room. Get some sleep. I will take care of Wei Ying, do not worry.”

When Jingyi arrives he doesn’t say anything, he simply greets Hanguang-Jun with a quiet bow -which goes mostly ignored as Hanguang-Jun is focused on caring for Wei Ying- and heads to Sizhui’s side. Sizhui sets the empty cup down as Jingyi extends a hand to help him rise and they quietly leave together.

Sizhui falls asleep in Jingyi’s bed that night, with Jingyi’s arms around him and his head against Jingyi’s chest, listening to his heartbeat.

It’s comforting. Soothing. Jingyi’s steady heartbeat combined with whatever was in that valerian infusion sets him up for a night of dreamless sleep.

It has been two days since then and Sizhui spends as much time as he can in his garden because it makes him feel better.

He waters the plants, nips upcoming weeds and notes the progress of each herb in his ledger, to see which ones will be able to thrive in Cloud Recesses soil and climate. Some may need extra care to grow but if his family could grow radishes in the burial mounds he should damned well be able to cultivate a few unlikely candidates in Cloud Recess. Squatted down among the baby herbs he’s reminded of Auntie Three and how she used to crouch down and rub the radish sprouts as she spoke to them. She had said it would help them grow big and healthy with the same amount of diehard conviction Uncle Six showed when he swore up and down that his next batch of alcohol would come out great. Sizhui smiles fondly at the memory -one of the really good ones- and reaches for the struggling thyme plant, letting his finger gently grace over its wilting leaves. “Hi there” he coos, he feels ridiculous but happily content at the same time.

Rubbing the leaves between the pads of his fingertips Sizhui closes his eyes and feels for the spark of life. It’s in there, in everything that lives and breathes and grows. It pulsates weakly in the thyme as a soft, light, tiny withering little flicker. Sizhui sees it in his mind’s eye. It is fading and fluttering, like the shrivelling candle flame right before it’s blown out. He reaches for it, cups it in his hands and, on a drawn breath, Sizhui summons his own flame and breathes it out. Breathes a kindle into the thyme, giving it part of his own flame to stimulate its life.

He watches how the thyme’s flame grows, how it stabilizes and changes colour from pale dull yellow to bright orange. It’s…

“Sizhui?”

He startles and spins around so fast his eyes have a hard time keeping up, gaze landing on Hanguang-Jun by the garden entrance. Sizhui scrambles to get on his feet and correct his robes. Brushing off dried soil stains. How come there’s so much dirt on him? It is almost like he rolled around in the flowerbed. He surely didn’t! “Hanguang-Jun” He greets with a proper bow. Why is his father here this early? Shouldn’t he be at morning meeting with the grandmaster and the elders.

Hanguang-Jun takes a few steps into the garden, holding Sizhui’s gaze as he walks up to him. “I sent for you earlier. Did you not receive my notice?”

Sizhui thinks back, walking through his morning. Hanguang-Jun is the first person he’s spoken to today. Jingyi had been bathing when Sizhui got up and left, he had not run into any attendants… he shakes his head “No.”

With one hand resting on Bichen’s hilt Hanguang-Jun frowns at him, “Do you know what time it is?”

Strange question. “…around 7 in the morning?” it can be no later than that. He’d gotten up shortly before the gong, left for his garden immediately and only been here an hour or so.

Sombrely Hanguang-Jun shakes his head “It’s past midday.” He informs “You missed all your morning classes.”

Sizhui’s mouth drops, his lips forming a surprised little “Oh!” He swallows and wets his lips “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…” he trails off as guilt spins up through his gut. He should have been paying attention. This is exactly what he had promised he wouldn’t do.

Hanguang-Jun says nothing but his gaze lingers long enough for Sizhui to start feeling a jittering crawl up and down his spine like an uncomfortable itch.

“You lost time again.” He declares dourly. “Your teachers contacted me to inform me of your absence.” Sizhui bites the inside of his mouth as he nods and lowers his head. Why this again? He had promised to make an effort to attend his lessons. “I’m sorry, father. I will accept your punishment.”

Hanguang-Jun shakes his head steadily “No punishment.” He replies shortly and for some reason that makes Sizhui feel even worse. Has he disappointed his father to the point where he considers it a waste to even punish him? He’s so caught up in his thoughts he doesn’t see the way Hanguang-Jun carefully watches him with concern.

“Walk with me.” Hanguang-Jun instructs brusquely and immediately turns around to leave. On a scrambled gasp Sizhui hurries to follow, he catches up quickly and falls in line the appropriate step behind. With his eyes on Hanguang-Jun’s heels he misses how he casts a scrutinising glance over his shoulder at him “Sizhui.”

He looks up “Yes?”

“I need to leave Cloud Recess for a meeting in town today. I may not return until very late, perhaps not before tomorrow morning.” Despite his impassive expression and regulated tone of voice it’s not hard to tell how displeasing he finds this. Sizhui understands, he knows how much Hanguang-Jun dislikes meetings that take him away from Cloud Recess, away from his family. “While I am gone” he continues “I would like of you to attend all your classes without fail.” Sizhui nods, he’s going to do this! “Stay close to Jingyi, he has promised to keep an eye on you and help you, follow his lead if you need.” It kinda feels like he’s been assigned a baby-sitter. And it’s Jingyi. Outrageous. “I will.” He concedes dutifully.

The rest of their journey is carried out in silence.

Hanguang-Jun chaperones him all the way to the seminary halls where they stop in the deserted courtyard. It’s midday which means the halls are empty as most teachers and disciples are having their meal. Sizhui realizes he is not hungry, despite having missed both breakfast and now also midday meal. He looks up at his father, making sure to show he’s paying attention to everything as Hanguang-Jun speaks again. “Wei Ying will remain here.” He says “He is still recuperating after preforming the cleansing ritual. He is resting in the Jingshi for the day. If you need him do not hesitate to call him or go to him.”

Sizhui nods “Yes father.” He will not disturb Wei Ying’s rest! Not for any reason. This is probably the reason why his father asked him to attend all his classes, to relieve the stress on Wei Ying.

Hanguang-Jun straightens up and gives him an approving tip of his head. “Good. Wait here until Jingyi shows up and classes commence again. This afternoon you will be having dinner with Wei Ying, he’s expecting you. Make sure to be on time, he will fret otherwise.”

“Yes.”

“Hanguang-Jun!” a voice calls out and they both turn to see the attendant hurrying towards them at the quickest allowed pace. The disciple bows formally to the both of them “Honourable Hanguang-Jun, the party is ready to head out”

Hanguang-Jun nods swiftly “I will take my leave.” He says and turns around, placing one hand behind his back and letting the other once again rest on its preferred spot on Bichen’s hilt. “Sizhui, remember all of what I said.”

Sizhui straightens up then falls into a proper bow “Yes, fath— Hanguang-Jun. Have a safe trip.”

“Mm.” He leaves and Sizhui takes a seat on a low wall to wait for Jingyi.

He doesn’t have to wait long for Jingyi to show. He’s the first one returning back, hurrying his way from the meal hall at a pace which borderlines too fast. As his eyes quickly scan the yard and when he finds Sizhui his face breaks into a happy grin and he skids over. “There you are!” he chides with a pout “You had me worried, you went missing again. Where were you? Did Hanguang-Jun find you? He sent me a letter basically saying that I should watch you today.”

Sizhui responds with a relaxing smile “Yes, he found me. Don’t worry, I lost some time again” he says easily, reaching up to brush a crumb off Jingyi’s shoulder. “I was just in my garden.”

Jingyi’s peeved pout turns into a tightly curled frown on his lips. “Well, I didn’t know that.”

He looks hilarious. Sizhui hides the giggle behind his sleeve, knowing that Jingyi will notice it anyway. And he does “I was really worried, you know!” he whines and pinches the soft skin on Sizhui’s arm in punishment.

Sizhui winces and rubs the sore spot. He still smiling though, a softer and warmer smile “Thank you for your concern, Jingyi.”

Jingyi pulls himself up, squares his shoulders and crosses his arms “Eh, it’s nothing. We’re confidants. I’ll always be looking out for you.”

“And I for you.” He reaches out, catching the end of Jingyi’s sleeve and… Sizhui is not sure what to do at this point. Why did he grab Jingyi’s clothes like this? He doesn’t pull at it, just holds the soft fabric between his fingers like it’s something precious and grounding. Keeping Jingyi right there, in front of him. He gently rubs the fabric as distraction, feeling the fine stitching and tight quality weave between his thumb and forefinger. Lifting his gaze Sizhui finds Jingyi peering down at him with and subtle querying expression.

Tenderly he smiles back up at him “What’s our next class?”

Jingyi pulls something like a grimace “Hong Shu.”

OOOOO

“Today we are going to cover the genetic properties of the different Clans” Hong Shu begins “As disciples of the Lan sect, and invited guests, you should all be aware of the silencing spell, arm strength and stamina found among members of the main Lan clan. The Nie has their connection with spiritual objects. The Jin clan their ability to increase the enthalpy of spiritual energy and centre it, one example is the creation of concentrated balls of spiritual energy which can damage almost any fierce being no matter how invincible. The Jiang has something similar but with focus on manipulation of the concentrated energy into a visual or perceptive state, such is the case of Zidian. However, among genetic traits none is more infamous and frightful than the fire madness of the Wen’s”.

Sizhui has never been so glad for going with Jingyi’s insistence on sitting at the back of the classroom -because Jingyi thought Hong Shu reeked, at least that was the excuse he was going with- Sizhui feels like he sinks a bit by Hong Shu’s words but Jingyi is right there beside him, a solid presence of support and cover.

‘How bad can it be?’ Sizhui thinks. He’ll just keep his head down, pretend to take notes and get through the hour. How bad can it be?

Pretty bad.

Most of what Hong Shu relays is unbiased slander. The language he uses coarse and abrasive using words like Wen scum and Wen dogs. Sizhui twitches every time and feels the tears prick behind his eyes. As it drags on he starts losing focus, everything blurs into incoherent mumbling except for the slurs and lies that cut through the haze and makes him twitch. He just sits there and waits and anticipates the next insult and then Hong Shu refers to auntie Qing as the Wen witch who burned like they should’ve all done and Sizhui throws his ink set. He doesn’t remember doing it, doesn’t even realize he’s done it, but he feels Jingyi’s fingers closing around his trembling wrist a second too late. The ink stone b-lines past Hong Shu’s ear with a whoosh that sends his hair flying.

Sizhui clenches his jaw tight, trying to keep the curses out of his mouth -auntie Qing’s smiling face flashes before his mind, he can feel the warmth of her hands as she cups his cheeks- The tears burn behind his eyes and he fights the urge to crumble, to scream and shout, instead he forces out “Foul language and speaking ill of others is forbidden in Cloud Recess.”

Hong Shu stands frozen at the front of the class. Stunned into speechlessness. He looks at the ink stone on the floor and then stares back at Sizhui before turning to Jingyi “Lan Jingyi,” he announces stiffly “Please see to it that this young one is escorted out of my classroom. He is obviously in no condition to attend my class and I revoke my welcome.”

Hong Shu turns to Sizhui “Who is your guardian?” he demands, though he obviously already know. Everyone does.  

Sizhui refuses to answer. He can’t. He doesn’t trust the words that might come out of his mouth so keeping his lips tightly sealed is the best option. Jingyi comes to his rescue again “It is Hanguang-Jun and Wei Wuxian.”

Hong Shu flinches half a step back and something like fear flashes though his eyes “I see. Know that Hanguang-Jun will be informed of how you have conducted yourself in my class. I will urge him to teach you the difference between unacceptable behaviour and proper conduct.”

Sizhui humphs and mutters something only loud enough for Jingyi –who’s still holding him back- to hear. Jingyi’s face goes through an assortment of rather interesting expressions before settling on a weird awkward half laugh “Sizhui” he sweats. “That was an inappropriate way of saying ‘fat chance’.”

Hong Shu’s lips curl up into the beginning of a snarl “You never used to be like this. Ever since that Wei Wuxian showed up—”

“Master?” A timid voice approaches from the side and all three turn to see who’d spoken. Disciple Pei Fong had apparently been trying to get attention for quite some time. “May I go change?” his robes are splotched in black ink. Standing beside him is guest disciple Gu Zhao, looking about ready to lose his temper. Ink drips from his hair onto his light green robes.

Hong Shu nods at them “Of course, you both get a change of robes.” He instructs. “Tzu Meiyin, Tzu Mingyi, show them where to get a new set of clothes.”.

The Tzu twins -brother and sister- gets up and bows respectably to Hong Shu. Pei Fong looks relieved to be given a guide and follows after the smiling Tzu Mingyi like a lost trusting puppy. Gu Zhao on the other hand doesn’t go as easily. He gives Sizhui a nasty snarl of a look and snaps “What’s wrong with you!? Aren’t you supposed to be the sweet son of Hanguang-Jun, we’ve heard so much about? The soft sunbeam of Lan. A promising young cultivator with a truly unreproachable reputation. Hah! You act like nothing but a spoiled prat.”

Jingyi steps in “Gu Zhao, you are a guest in Cloud Recess, please refrain from speaking out of turn.”

“GET OUT!” Hong Shu snaps at them, loose tresses of hair flying across his fuming face. “Lan Sizhui, your Hanguang-Jun will be notified of your behaviour and you are no longer welcome in my class.”

“What a disgrace.” Gu Zhao manages to sneer before Tzu Meiyin grabs him by the scruff and drags him out, not caring one second that she gets ink on her hands.

Sizhui clenches his trembling fists, trapping his burning fingers before sparks begin to fly. ‘Not Lan’ he thinks ‘Wen.’ He pulls himself up, squares his shoulders and looks Hong Shu right in the eyes. “I’m sure my fathers will agree, there is no loss to my education if I refrain from learning from someone who’s main qualification is their ability to extrapolate facts from a mixture of thin air and their own ignorant speculations.”

Hong Shu recoils and looks about ready to smack him. Jingyi contemplates borrowing Tzu Meiyin’s move and just pull Sizhui out of the room by the scruff. He could do it. He’s stronger than Sizhui, always has been, all those handstands, but it never gets to that because Sizhui looks Hong Shu straight in the eyes, smiles as sweetly -falsely- as ever and bows. “You will not see me in this class again, and it will be my pleasure.” He turns on his heels and stalks out of the classroom with the proud, aloof, bearing worthy of Hanguang-Jun and all the fellow disciples stare after him.

Jingyi scrambles to follow.

Sizhui leaves the lecture halls, walks with his head held high and a sureness to his step until he’s out of sight of it and beyond. Only then does his pace lose confidence and he begins to tremble.  

“Sizhui!” Jingyi calls from behind him. “Hey, wait!” he sounds out of breath. “Stop! Wait for me! Sizhui!”

Jingyi catches up with him once they reach the archery training ground, grabbing at his wrist to stop him from walking any further. “What’s up with you recently?”

Sizhui refuses to look at him, not because he doesn’t want to but because he’s not sure what will happen if he does. His eyes sting and the tears burn hot behind them, the pads of his fingertips feel like he’s got a layer of flaking embers on them. He takes a deep shaky breath. Trying to pull out of Jingyi’s grip is fruitless, all it will do is tear his clothes, but he wants to get away. Wants to get out. Wants to burn something. He’s heading for the patch of woods beyond the Archery ground. Which is insanely dangerous and off limits. Because stray arrows often disappear in there when they miss their intended mark, lodging themselves deep in trees and one or two people before the place was made forbidden.

Maybe remembering all that is a sign? What Sizhui wants versus what he needs, and what he needs is to control himself. “Jingyi—”

“You’re gonna get in real trouble this time. I can’t stop Hong Shu from informing Hanguang-Jun” Jingyi shakes his head dejectedly “and once Hanguang-Jun finds out you threw an inkstone at a teacher’s head, he’s not going to be pleased.”

Sizhui knows that. Of course, he knows that. “Hanguang-Jun is visiting one of the feudal lord’s administrative offices in town. He won’t be back until late.” He’s not looking forward to what will happen once he does return. And what if Wei Ying is informed prior to Hanguang-Jun? Sizhui had promised to stay on his best behaviour so Wei Ying could get proper rest after his cleansing. If Wei Ying finds out first, which he probably will, he’s going to stress.

He messed up. Why did he have to do that? Why couldn’t he just keep his cool? Why did it slip from his fingers so easily? Why did he have to do all of this? Sizhui feels his heartbeat intensify. He should have told Jingyi Hong Shu was getting on his nerves, not—

The twang of a bow string catches their ears and they follow it to the archery ground where Tzu Meiyin is showing her skills to Gu Zhao. The two are target practising. Pei Fong and Tzu Mingyi is sitting on the steps leading down to the training grounds looking at Tzu Mingyi’s sword. Pei Fong is awed by it. He hasn’t received his own sword yet. He is the first to spot them. Pei Fong scrambles to his feet -he’s got a new clean set of robes on- “Acting Sect Leader, Young Master.” He bows respectfully and Tzu Mingyi joins in.

Jingyi and Sizhui greets them back. “Pei Fong” Sizhui says “I’m sorry about ruining your clothes earlier and giving you a scare.”

Pei Fong shakes his head “Not at all” he smiles brightly “That teacher was mauling worse than the Grandmaster of Lan. You got me out of there. This one owes you.” He bows again and Jingyi chokes trying to hold back a gleeful snort.

Their pleasant chat doesn’t last.

“Well, look who it is” Gu Zhao sneers, stalking his way towards them. Behind him Tzu Meiyin lowers her bow and makes a face like she knows what’s about to happen.

So does Jingyi apparently, since he takes a step forward as if he wants to insert himself between Sizhui and Gu Zhao but Gu Zhao has already stopped, his sneer of a glare zeroed in on Sizhui “You think you can do and say whatever you want because your father is Hanguang-Jun? That his status will protect you? If you don’t like what you’re being told you can just throw stuff at people and demand they shut up. Without a care in the world for who else is affected.”

“No. Not at all. I’m sor—” Sizhui starts but Gu Zhao interrupts before he can finish. “What were you going for anyway? Trying to defend those filthy Wen’s, or what? You should know the history just as well as the rest of us. The Wen sect were all evil scum. Every last single man, woman and child born rotten by bearing alone. They all got what they had coming. The whole cultivation world agreed. The vile Wen blood had to be burned off!”

Sizhui feels like his heart beats a hot pulse through him. His family hadn’t been evil or vile or rotten!

“Have you forgotten where you are?” Gu Zhao continues “Cloud Recess. The place that was burnt to the ground by the Wen’s! Wasn’t your own grandfather technically killed by them at the time? And yet you defend them with violence to force the teacher to shut up. What is wrong with you!? Our whole lives we’ve been told about the honourable Hanguang-Jun, the second jade of Lan, the most esteemed cultivator among the powerful clans. And his sweet, revered son, the soft ray of sunshine, one of the most promising cultivators of our generation” Gu Zhao’s lips curls up in a haughty smug leer “Hanguang-Jun must be weak, even for a cut-sleeve.”

“That is slanderous! Gu Zhao, be ashamed of yourself!” Jingyi snaps. “I can have you punished for speaking of Hanguang-Jun in such terms!”

Gu Zhao keeps his eyes locked on Sizhui “It’s true, though. No denying it.” He asserts boldly “He is a filthy cut-sleeve, and for the Yiling patriarch, nonetheless. Maybe that’s where your love for the Wen’s come from. Wei Wuxian defended those scums too.” His smug grin turns disgustingly toothy. “Tell me, is it true? I heard they like getting filthy in the open. Wants to be seen. Heard.” he jeers. “It makes people wonder you know?”

Sizhui clenches his fists tight. His fingertips smarts and somewhere underneath his skin hot flashes pulsates with every too loud heartbeat.

“What other sorts of bestialities those two get up to.” Gu Zhao’s eyes glint malevolently. “Maybe you’re part of it? Their bedroom toy that Hanguang-Jun spent years preparing, training, just for their enjoyment!”

“How dare you!?” Jingyi roars, unsheathing his sword in a flash. Gu Zhao reaches for his as well but—

“You asked for this” Sizhui grumbles. He’s angrier than he’s been for a long time. Usually his anger remains hidden deep inside. It isn’t even one of his primary emotions. When Sizhui feels anger it is as something thumping through his blood with every beat of his heart and directed at the world through himself as some sort of medium, he usually quells it and breathes it out. But right now, its burning right beneath the surface. Like a wildfire he can’t supresses as it sweeps across his skin, like a fine sheen of perspiration, gaining fuel, gaining momentum.

He takes a deep breath and throws his arms out, and with the move it evaporates off his skin as a spray of fire surging from his hands, engulfing the sparring ground in flames. The Tzu siblings are separated on either side of the field and Tzu Mingyi yells desperately for his sister, trying to reach her but the flames licking across the ground prevents him from moving more than a few steps. Pei Fong scrambles for the stairs but Jingyi stomps a foot down on his robes and halts his escape “Don’t move.” He orders with an air of authority only experience and preparation for something like this can bring forth. Pei Fong falls to his knees and cowers behind the folds of Jingyi’s robes with a high-pitched whine. Tzu Meiyin has taken cover atop the archery targets but as the flames swallows them one by one, she is forced to jump from one to another, never once letting go of her bow. Jingyi stands unmoving, he holds himself high, eyes quickly scanning from the trapped Tzu Mingyi to the fleeing Tzu Meiyin to the defenceless Gu Zhao in the middle of the field and then to Sizhui with flames in hands. He draws some quick conclusions and knows what he must do to intervene. 

The fire burns like a raging swell around the training field, flames fanned liked ripples in a violent sea, the most ferocious of them all encircling Sizhui. His sight is narrowed, focused in on the target and a wave of flame summoned forth by his hand rushes its way across the field, like a slash of fire cutting through the air. Gu Zhao screams and propels himself backwards, falls on his ass and continues to try to scramble away. Realising he won’t get very far as the fire gust comes upon him, he throws his arms up to protect his face and screams even louder.

It never reaches him.

Sizhui has closed his fist, effectively putting the fire out before it burned his target. Instead it washes over Gu Zhao as nothing more than a hot breeze as the flames around begin to slowly wane with every calming breath Sizhui takes, as if the two are symbiotic in nature.

The sparring ground has gone silent, the roaring fires replaced by the fluttering of Tzu Meiyin’s robes as she jumps down from last remaining archery target and lands next to her teary-eyed brother. They all stare at Sizhui in his circle of ash with soot on his hands and remains of fire in his eyes.

Gu Zhao cowers on the ground, arms thrown over his head in a futile attempt at protection.

Pei Fong falls back on his knees, dislodging from Jingyi’s robes and stares at the scene with his hands covering his ears and eyes the size of saucers.

Jingyi breathes soundlessly and forces his tense muscles to relax. The danger has passed but he’s not sure what mental state Sizhui is in. “Sizhui?” Jingyi carefully approaches him, keeping his voice calm and levelled despite the obvious signs of hesitation in his movements. Jingyi is by no means naïve, a little hot-headed for sure -‘spirited’ was the word Sizhui had always used-, he is similar to Qiren in that way, lets his temper get the better of him sometimes. But he’s not naïve. He knows what this fire is. They may never have spoken the word out loud, never had to because Jingyi knows that Sizhui knows that Jingyi knows, that they both know.

Yeah…   

Gu Zhao lowers his arms and stares. His tear and snot streaked face pale under a dirty layer of soot. 

Jingyi winces. He going to have to do some serious damage control very fast. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. His salvation comes in the form of Tzu Meiyin who descends on Gu Zhao and whacks him over the head, knocking him out. Pei Fong throws some fire talismans on the ground and Tzu Mingyi pulls his sword out and pretends to fall down with it outstretched in a protective fashion. Pei Fong grabs two handfuls of soot-soil and rubs his face and clothes with it, the Tzu twins both follow his lead and then Tzu Meiyin cowers behind the last remaining archery target, her bow left discarded.

Pei Fong hides behind Tzu Mingyi and covers his face with his hands, pretending to cry.

Jingyi blinks at the scene.

That escalated quickly.

They’re about to frame Gu Zhao?

“It’s not going to work.” He tells them “Once he regains consciousness, he’ll tell everyone what happened. Your plan won’t work.”

“It might” Tzu Meiyin says. “Because we aren’t framing Gu Zhao, we’re claiming it was an accident.”

Pei Fong inclines his hand at the talismans on the ground “We were practicing with fire talismans and it got away from us.”

“If he’s the only one saying otherwise, especially with such an outlandish story, the adults are going to think he hit his head too hard.” Tzu Mingyi fills in.

Jingyi thinks it through for a split second. It could work. With some tinkering to it, it would even work on the old man and if you can fool Lan Qiren Cloud Recess will follow his lead. It would never work on Hanguang-Jun but he’s out for the day so that’s one problem averted, for now. It may be a small fortune but Jingyi has based most of his life on small fortunes. Wei Wuxian might see through it, he’s smarter than Hanguang-Jun. But Wei Wuxian is—

“A-Yuan?”

…At the top of the stairs. Jingyi cringes. This is bad. Anyone but Master Wei. He looks a little slapdash where he stands peering down at them, like he put himself together in hurry. His hair is a tangled, undone mess of bedhead and his robes are not tied properly and -if Jingyi is not mistaken- he looks pale with the remains of bags under his eyes.

This man should be in bed.

“Master Wei.” Jingyi bows respectfully to him and the Tzu siblings follow his example. Pei Fong gawks like a fish on land at the full glory of the live Yiling patriarch standing before them, he then catches himself and falls into a bow so deep he almost topples over his own two feet.

The once again conscious Gu Zhao makes an aborted gurgling sound, as if he still hasn’t found his voice and anything he wants to say gets stuck in his throat. The sight of the Yiling patriarch -no matter how tired and dishevelled looking- makes him pale even further under the black layer. He looks sickly.

Wei Ying steps down to the archery ground and approaches the odd group, taking in the sight of the scorched scene as he goes. “What happened here? Where you children fighting.” He teases them a little but the seriousness in his voice isn’t lost on anyone.

Pei Fong straightens his back “We were using fire talismans and—” A well placed kick to the shin from Tzu Meiyin shuts him up.

Wei Ying blinks at the suddenly quiet boy “Fire talismans, huh?” he doesn’t sound like he believes them in the slightest and Jingyi inwardly winces. Why did it have to be Wei Ying who showed up first, he knows how talismans functions, he knows what Wen fire is and what its effects looks like these days, considering he keeps an eye open for it.

“It didn’t go as planned?” Now Wei Ying is toying with them, Jingyi knows, he’s been on the receiving end of this tactic before.

“No, Master Wei, it got away from us” Tzu Mingyi sweats.

Wei Ying remains quiet as he studies them with the same look he gets when he’s watching ants work. Jingyi is not sure whether to laugh or cry.

Suddenly Wei Ying grins widely at them “Well, practice makes perfect. But you should probably clean this up as soon as possible. And replace those targets.”

“Yes, Master Wei!” The Tzu twins and Pei Fong chorus in unison. Jingyi sends a silent prayer and offering to any god willing to listen right now.

Wei Ying knows, Jingyi can tell he knows.

Wei Ying turns away from them and steps toward Sizhui who has not spoken, not moved since he reined in the fire and is still facing Gu Zhao with clenched fists.

“A-Yuan. A-Yuan. A-Yuan.” He calls casually and Sizhui finally turns around. Wei Ying pulls a slip of paper from his sleeve and waves it artlessly in the air “A-Yuan, what is this about you throwing an inkstone at your teacher?”

Sizhui lowers his head. Avoiding Wei Ying’s penetrating gaze “I don’t want to talk about it.” He mumbles.

Wei Ying’s casual expression falls “Well, you’re going to have to.” He says sternly “Just as soon as I’ve dealt with this” he motions with his arm at the scene and turns around. Walking over to the petrified Gu Zhao.

“Hallo, there” Wei Ying crouches down before Gu Zhao “You don’t look too good.” He says with that impish glint in his eyes only Wei Ying can have. “You need to get checked out—”

Gu Zhao squeals pathetically and Wei Ying blinks at that and laughs awkwardly. “Kid, I am no healer, Sizhui here is pretty good at that stuff but he seems less inclined to aid you right now, so how about you take a trip to the infirmary.” He doesn’t expect a reply “You there!” He calls pointing at Tzu Mingyi with a bamboo stick he seems to have acquired somewhere -probably picked it off the ground- “Take this one to see a healer.”

“Yes, Master Wei, Master Yiling patriarch.” He splutters and bows quickly, sprinting over to pull at Gu Zhao’s sleeve.

Wei Ying turns back to Sizhui, ignoring Tzu Mingyi’s struggles to get the larger shell-shocked Gu Zhao off the ground. “Would you fill me in one what happened here, or do I have to come to my own conclusions?” it’s not a question even though it’s posed as one.

Sizhui bites the inside of his cheek and stubbornly refuses to meet Wei Ying’s eyes.

“Gu Zhao insulted Hanguang-Jun and you, Master Wei. His words were quite cruel and his torment ruthless. Sizhui finally lost his temper.” Jingyi gives up.

Wei Ying hums, resting his chin on his knuckle and nodding into it. “Hmm, I see.” He says, “and is that what happened with teacher Hong Shu, as well?” he looks from Jingyi to Sizhui.

Jingyi flinches, even if it is minutely “That…” he beings “That was a different matter.”

“Alright,” Wei Ying walks up, placing a hand around the back of Sizhui’s neck “You’ve had another eventful day.” Despite the mild expression on his face there’s no mistaking the steely tone in his voice. “Come with me A-Yuan, let’s have a chat.” He gives only a slight nudge, a tiny increase of pressure around Sizhui’s neck, to prompt him forward making him walk wherever Wei Ying is leading him.  

Jingyi sidesteps out of their path as Wei Ying takes Sizhui away, towards the Jingshi.

OXXXO

The trip back to the Jingshi gets awkward when they pass a couple of elder and senior disciples giving them odd looks seeing a stone faced Wei Wuxian leading Sizhui by his neck. Not that Sizhui cares, he’s too busy being uncomfortable, Wei Ying’s grip on his neck is edging between being painful and being itchy. It sends something like an icy shudder up and down his spine if he so much as tries to struggle against the hold.

It's simple but effective.

He’s not released until they’re all the way back inside and Wei Ying pushes him to kneel on the floor and then crouches down on one knee in front of him. “Sizhui? How are you feeling?” Wei Ying asks. Eyes big and blinking and it seems so sincere and so fake at the same time.

Sizhui hesitates a fraction too long. “…I’m fine.” He stutters just a little, but it is enough for his words to come across as obviously insincere. Not that it would have mattered much had he been able to mask perfectly, his actions spoke volumes of his true feelings.

Wei Ying stares at him for several long seconds, eyes narrowing slightly and lips settling into a thin line “Give me your hand.” He commands in a light tone.

Despite a split second of confusion Sizhui does as asked, placing his hand in Wei Ying’s outstretched one and is just about to ask ‘What for?’ when Wei Ying brings the bamboo rod down across his palm. Hard.

Sizhui winces, instinctively trying to pull his hand back but Wei Ying seizes his wrist and won’t let him go. “You’re a good liar, I’ll give you that. I’m convinced you’ve fooled both the old man and Zewu-Jun with that charade, probably even Lan Zhan. But don’t ever lie to me about your well-being again. Next time I’ll give you more than a slap on the wrist.”

Sizhui hangs his head in shame. He’s been caught. He can’t fake it in front of Wei Wuxian, the literal master of all the tricks in the books.

“Your behaviour as of late has been concerning. You’re distant and withdrawn, only to suddenly act out impulsively. You’ve been skipping lessons, playing with fire, ignoring curfew and sneaking out.”

Sizhui flinches.

“You really thought we wouldn’t find out about that?” Wei Ying tilts his head, seeking to re-establish the eye-contact that had been lost in the past few sentences. “Normally I wouldn’t bother with it. A bit of rebellion is healthy and I normally wouldn’t deny you that, but your behaviour has come up suddenly over the last few weeks and quickly escalated. You’re spiralling and we’re all worried about you.”

Something inside Sizhui snaps “What is everyone expecting of me? To be fine!? That it would all be water under the bridge and I would be as before! A perfect Lan!” He swallows the words ‘I’m not even a Lan!’

“What makes you think that? Ok, maybe Qiren but you should ignore him, we all do. You don’t have to constantly preform flawlessly, that’s impossible. No one can do that. I certainly can’t, neither can Lan Zhan or Zewu-Jun. Qiren himself is far from perfect, no matter what he says.” He might need to have a conversation with Grandmaster Lan about the pressure he’s putting on his family. Sizhui is not the only victim of Qiren’s high expectations, but he’s the one under Wei Ying’s care and he’s the most vulnerable one. How is this last remaining child of Wen supposed to be able to fend against the imposing Grandmaster of Gusu Lan?
Now, Wei Ying knows Qiren is not as bad as he sometimes seems, the old man loves his family and only wants what’s best for them. Unfortunately, he’s got his own ideas of what best is and a quick temper to match. Sizhui is only a child and he hasn’t honed the practice of standing up for himself yet.

“You are allowed to feel whatever you’re feeling. You can be angry, A-Yuan. You can be sad, frustrated, hurt, scared, confused. None of it is wrong.” He sighs loudly “And, A-Yuan, you are not a doll. People change. Both Lan Zhan and I know that things can never be what they were before. You know. You remember and it changes everything, you can never go back to the way you were before and we’re not expecting you to. What we want is to help you find a way to live with the truth. A new solid path under your feet. Right now you’re dangling dangerously close to the edge of the abyss and we want to help you away from it, back on a track that won’t hurt you. We tell you to keep up with your classes, get enough sleep and follow the rules we set up because all of that shapes something solid for you to hold on to while your mind and heart is rocking. You may not believe it, but having structure and responsibilities in your life while your inner self is a mess actually helps in the long run. It doesn’t mean you are not allowed to express your thoughts and feelings any time you want and need. Act out if it makes you feel better. Defile the wall for all I care.” He smirks a little at the idea. “Lan Zhan and I won’t be disappointed if you misbehave. We might get upset, scold and even punish you if you put yourself in danger or go too far but we will never reject you.” He folds his legs beneath himself and sits down in front of Sizhui, still with his wrist in a tight grip.

“Like you did today. Setting things on fire inside Cloud Recess is too far, Sizhui.” His voice changes tone, steels, less emotion. This is Wei Ying’s scolding voice and it makes Sizhui tense.

Wei Ying continues “Now, the old man won’t find out because Jingyi will quiet things down, and I’m sure those other three will help with that, but I’m going to have to tell Lan Zhan when he returns from the meeting—”

“No! Please don’t tell Hanguang-Jun! He’s going to be so—”

“So what? Disappointed? Didn’t I just tell you” he brings the bamboo up again, lightly tapping at Sizhui’s fingers “Open up.”

Sizhui hesitates.

Wei Ying taps again, a little more insistently “Your choice; fingers or palm and trust me, fingers hurt more.”

Sizhui slowly opens his hand. The bamboo comes down across his palm with a snap and he gasps, it hurts. Then again. A third time. It hurts a lot. Sizhui winces and unintentionally tries to pull his hand back but Wei Ying clampers on and raises the bamboo again. By the seventh smack, Sizhui is shaking.

Ten. He receives ten strikes before Wei Ying allows him to pull his hand back.

“Are you alright? Do you understand why I did that? Why I disciplined you?”

Sizhui bites his lip and nods, nursing his smarting hand. “Yes.” He chokes a little on the word.

“Good.” Wei Ying sounds glad and he places a hand on Sizhui’s head, ruffling his hair “Now, we can tell Lan Zhan, once he returns that you have already been thoroughly disciplined for your behaviour.” He nods as if proud of his own plan.

Sizhui hugs his hand to his chest “He’s going to be so mad at me. I failed him, disappointed him…”

Wei Ying leans forward and frowns “No, he won’t. He’s going to be worried. Just like I am and Jingyi too. Even Qiren is worried about you. We can all see that you’re hurting.”

Sizhui fidgets “…I didn’t mean for the fire to get so out of hand.”

“You ignited the fire to start.”

Of course, Sizhui is aware of that and it had been intentional, he’d wanted to summon the fire, wanted to watch it burn. But… “I didn’t intend for it to burn quite so strongly. I can control it. I put it out before—”

“Sizhui! Stop.” Wei Ying insists. “This isn’t about whether or not you could control the fire, it isn’t about you burning down a few archery targets or giving a bully a scare. If anyone other than Jingyi recognise that fire for what it is, we’re going to have a much bigger problem on our hands. Understand? That’s why you’re only allowed to use the fire under supervised, controlled conditions with permission from me and Lan Zhan.”

“Yes. I know.” Sizhui responds “I won’t do it again.”

Wei Ying gives a wry sceptical smile. “You probably will, but as long as you try… “he trails off. “By the way, speaking of Jingyi, you should get back to him, he’s probably worried about you.” Wei Ying twists around at the waist and reaches for one of the books he’d doggy-eared where he last left off. “And besides, I think you should help with the clean-up.”

“I’m not grounded?”

Wei Ying’s eyes widen in surprise and he peer back at him. “What? No. Lan Zhan might want to have a talk with you later, after I tell him what happened today, but you’ve already been disciplined. You will not be punished twice for the same offence. And besides, you’ve been grounded so many times recently. It hardly seems effective.”

Sizhui feels like a part inside him crumbles and turns to dust, leaving something barren and hopeless in its wake. “Oh, okay…” He begins to push himself up but Wei Ying stops him. “You sound disappointed…” he frowns as if he’s working the kinks out in his head “What’s the matter? Did you—did you want to be grounded?”

Sizhui averts his gaze quickly but Wei Ying catches on “You Did!” he exclaims. “You wanted me to ground you!? …Why?”

“It’s not that! It’s just— I donno how to say it—” He struggles “Sometimes I just feel like you and Hanguang-Jun are going easy on me. Like you are letting me get away with things because you have lowered the bar for what you expect from me.” It’s much easier to say things once he gets going. Maybe too easy. “As if you have lost faith in my ability to meet your standards. Like I’m not worth—”

“Let me stop you right there.” Wei Ying halts him with a hand held up to cut him off. “The way we deal with what you’re going through is something your father and I have discussed at length. What you need right now is space and time in order to find your way. Lan Zhan and I are choosing our battles wisely because we do not wish to force you down a narrow path. That kind of approach only leads to pain, we know from experience.” He reaches out to caress Sizhui's cheek and Sizhui once again instinctively leans into the touch. “You’re in turmoil and that needs to be let out, you are allowed to feel. This idea that we’re being lenient with you have nothing to do with your ability, it’s about what you need and don’t need at this point in your journey.” Wei Ying suddenly gets this look in his eyes Sizhui can’t quite place but it’s very sad and drowned. “How would you feel if we forced you to quell and beat down your fire at every turn? If we scolded you to exercise restraint and go to the Cold Pond every time you wanted to use your fire? If we punished you harshly whenever your fire came out. If we nagged you to do better, be good? If we told you that missing your murdered family was a sign you haven’t understood the teachings? That erecting a memorial to them, praying for them, missing them, crying for them was a sin? That doing all of that, connecting with your heritage, learning about yourself, made you a sinner who should be severely punished?”

Sizhui suddenly feels his breathing coming a little quicker “That, that, that would…”

“Resentment.” Wei Ying helps to say. “It would make you feel resentment towards us, towards the Lan Sect, towards the cultivation world who either aided or stood by and watched the slaughter. And that’s not what we want.” He shakes his head “What we want is to help you find a way forward that doesn’t led to resentment and pain.”

“I don’t want that either. I could never resent you and Hanguang-Jun!”

“I’m afraid that’s not true.” Wei Ying’s eyes suddenly darkens with sorrow “Love can turn to hate a lot easier than people think. All it takes are a few petty, miscommunicated, unresolved disagreements. A misunderstanding of intent. A difference of opinion. Our desire for others to be as we want them to be when it’s not who they are. Forced conformity. A few perhaps unintentionally insensitive words. Our own stubborn wants—”

“Stop!” Sizhui cries out, covering his ears. “Don’t say things like that! I could never hate you and Hanguang-Jun! Never!”  an obstinate tear presses itself past his tightly squeezed shut eyes “Never! Never! Never!”

Wei Ying embraces him. It’s a gentle but full on hug as he pulls Sizhui in and strokes his hair “There, there.” He soothes “Calm down. I didn’t mean to upset you so much. It may sound harsh but I will not lie to you and I hope, someday, you will come to appreciate that.”

Sizhui stubbornly refuses to acknowledge Wei Ying said anything at all. Because No. Just No. “Please.” He pleads thinly “Please, take it back.”

“You want me to lie to you?” From where he’s pressed his face into Wei Ying’s shoulder, Sizhui is not be able to see it but he can hear in those words that the smile on Wei Ying’s lips is painfully tight and sad.

He shakes his head, wiping the wetness around his eye away on Wei Ying’s collar. “I don’t want it to be true. I don’t want a lot of things to be true.”

“The truth is rarely pure, and never simple. Truth is painful and complex. It can look different depending on the angle you view it from. Truth isn’t always straightforward and clear, it can be up to interpretation depending on your motives, values and experiences. The truth often hurts a lot… but a lie unmasked, hurts more.”

“Isn’t a lie unmasked the truth?” Sizhui whispers against Wei Ying’s collar and Wei Ying cringes with a silent grimace. “Stop being so fast in the head. It’s not cute. Not cute at all.” He banters with a teasing note to his voice before turning serious again. “A lie isn’t real, and in there lies the danger of it. Like with false information.” Wei Ying trails off, he doesn’t want to go down that lane, not with A-Yuan.

Sizhui releases him, uncurls his arms from around Wei Ying neck and pulls back slowly, skilfully avoiding Wei Ying’s attempt at eye contact. Really, Sizhui feels he should be ashamed of himself, he’s sitting here being a mess and getting comforted when he’s the one who did so many things wrong today.

He’s the one who should be going around making apologies. Though some people may be much inclined to not accept. And, frankly, no matter how hard Sizhui tries he can’t bring himself to offer some people a sincere apology.

Wei Ying is a damn mind reader!

He gives Sizhui that look, the one that gives the impression he can see right through him and then he smiles. Wei Ying understands Sizhui isn’t ready to apologies to a certain someone -he may never be- and accepts it. That’s something great about Wei Ying, he doesn’t judge others for their shortcomings.   

“Now, you really should go help Jingyi clean up the mess you made.” He laughs a little, ruffling Sizhui’s hair.  

“Yes, Papa. You’re right.” It come out sounding a little tear-clogged.

OXXXO

Once Lan Wangji reaches the front gate he’s glad to see he made it back before gate closing and even gladder to see Wei Ying up and smiling waiting for him just inside. As soon as he’s inside Wei Ying skips over to him on light feet -Wangji is quickly reminded of back then- and throws himself into Wangji’s open arms.

The welcome back kiss he receives is sweet and light, too short for what Wangji really wants but they are in full view of the slightly awkward looking gate guards who turns away the second Wangji glares at them. 

The kiss may not have lasted but Wei Ying stays hanging around Wangji’s neck like a particularly hefty necklace. The bulk of his weigh forcing Wangji to bend slightly forward in a way which would make walking difficult if he tried. If Wei Ying continues with these types of stunts Wangji will soon begin to live under the threat of throwing his back out. “How have things been?”

Wei Ying puckers his lips in a sort of contemplative duckface. “Well, there are some things we need to discuss.”

Wangji frowns. It sound like trouble. “What’s happened?”

Wei Ying dislodges himself and takes a step back, rubbing the back of his head as he smiles sheepishly. “It was dealt with. Or well, maybe not cuz it’s still going on but that incident was dealt with. I handled it. I had it handled. But it’s still an issue. I would say it’s okay but it’s also not okay.” He sighs at his own inability to properly articulate the situation. “Lan Zhan, it’s a long story with many twists, we really should sit down and calmly discuss how to approach it.”

Wangji’s frown intensifies and the more he thinks about it the more worry builds up in his gut. That is a lot of mollifying information and not enough facts. However, Wei Ying’s gibberish method of deflecting might be wise. Most likely it is a matter which should not be discussed right in front of the sharp eared gate guards.

“Mm” is all Wangji has to say and they set off on track towards the Jingshi together. “What does it involve?” Wangji asks as soon as they are out of earshot of the gate guards and well on their way back home.

“It’s A-Yuan.

Wangji almost stops dead in his tracks “What? What about Sizhui?”

Wei Ying shakes his head a little and pulls him along the path up the mountain “He’s been acting up.”

“Acting up?” Wangji asks, staring at the back of Wei Ying’s head as he’s being pulled towards their home.

Wei Ying tips his head back. “Misbehaving, causing trouble, antagonizing his teacher, ignoring curfew.” He twirls around, catching a tress of Wangji’s hair around a finger “I’m telling you, Lan Zhan, that child of ours have been causing me so much trouble while you’ve been gone.” He sighs dramatically “It’s been such a hassle. I have aged! He’s been such a naughty, disrespectful child-”

Wangji cocks an eyebrow, he’s literally been gone less than a day and somehow he highly doubts Sizhui has been deliberately disrespectful and managed everything Wei Ying is accusing him off in that amount of time but Wei Ying continues his over-dramatic prose “-Not respecting my parental authority. Even when I threatened to have you, his father, deal with him upon your return. I’ll tell you what a handful he has been! Such a disobedient child! You must deal with him, I’m sure your hand will come down swift and strict.”

“Hmmm.”

“You doubt me!?” Wei Ying gasps, mock aghast as he close to trips over the threshold to their home.

In a deliberately drawn out act Wangji puts Bichen away and shuffles over to the table grabbing the teapot on his way. “Let’s discuss the matter over tea.” he offers “If I must discipline Sizhui I will deal with it accordingly once I have been fully informed.”

Wei Ying lowers himself down and puts an elbow atop the table to support his head “No need. I already took care of it. He should not be punished twice for the same offence.” Wangji nods in agreement as Wei Ying continues “But he must know that we stand on the same side when we deal with him. That way he cannot play us against each other.”

“Sizhui wouldn’t do that.”

Wei Ying waves him off “Now, now one thing I learned from being a teenager is to never trust a teenager.”

Wangji pours them each a cup and pushes one towards his husband. “Wei Ying was a much less trustworthy teenager than Sizhui is.”

“Lan Zhan!” But it was the truth, wasn’t it?

Wangji folds his robes neatly and sits down across from Wei Ying. “Tell me from the beginning.”

Wei Ying’s demeanour changes in an instant to one more grave as he explains what happened. “… And honestly, Lan Zhan I’m concerned. Jingyi told me A-Yuan got thrown out of class for being disruptive and seems to have decided that means he doesn’t have to go back. I don’t have a complete picture of what happened in Hong Shu’s classroom but from the note he sent to you, which I read, A-Yuan attacked his teacher with an inkstone. Why, I have not been able to fully deduce.”

Wangji feels his jaw drop as surprise becomes evident on his face. That a teenager would lose his cool with a bully is one thing but “Sizhui attacked a teacher?”

“I’m sure there’s more to it.” Wei Ying downs his cup “A-Yuan is not the sort to randomly throw stuff at people for no to very little reason. Whatever Hong Shu did to provoke him must have been excruciating.”

Wangji has to agree with that. He has personally never been a fan of Hong Shu, the man had proven to be quite heavy handed with children. He would never dare to lay hand on Sizhui, out of fear for how Wangji would respond to such a provocation. Most knew Sizhui and Jingyi were off limits but other children didn’t fare so well under Hong Shu. Wangji has heard the tales. Hong Shu would never dare to touch Sizhui so it has to have been something he said. “Sizhui is not the sort to be so easily inflamed by words.”

“You cannot build a puzzle with only one piece, Lan Zhan. I think we can assume this is a small part of the bigger picture.”

“Hm”

“If knowing precisely what transpired interests you then I think a talk with Jingyi might be enlightening. Personally I do not care for the details of this specific incident. I know my A-Yuan, he would never do such a thing without good cause.” Wei Ying clips rather shortly.

Wangji cannot disagree. “Tell me more.”

By the time the night has stilled. Wei Ying and Wangji have retreated to the porch facing the Jingshi’s back garden to watch the moonlight illuminate budding trees and bushes. Creating a sparkling carpet of the tiny white flowers dotted in among the dark grass.

As the night carries a clear fragrance of spring on a small breeze drifting by Wei Ying swirls his cup of premium Emperors’ smile, staring into the rippling he causes. “It’s a bit of a delicate situation.” He sighs and downs the contains on a single sweep “A-Yuan is having a hard time right now, which is understandable.”

Wangji nods “Sizhui is trying to cope with a significant amount of trauma which he has never been able to previously process due to the amnesia. Now that it has lifted everything comes flooding back and it’s quite frankly probably overwhelming.”

“There’s a lot for him to unpack and come to terms with and I understand if he’s having a hard time accepting some things and organising his thoughts and feelings” Wei Ying says with that faraway look on his face, as if he can’t stop thinking of past regrets. “He probably feels like a great unjust was done.”

“He’s not wrong.” Wangji admits compassionately. “His pain is understandable.”

Of course, it is! Not only had Sizhui had his entire family and sect wiped out in front of him. The history he’d spent a lifetime being taught was written by winners who had no qualms about demonising his people and by extension him. His culture had been denied him for thirteen years and how much of it had been completely lost to the dust of time is impossible to say. The fact that he is a political dirty blanket, his very existence as a surviving Wen considered a threat to the stability of the cultivation world. If his existence becomes commonly known many sects and the public, will demand his immediate arrest and execution. Sizhui might be burned at the stake.

Wei Ying’s knuckles whiten as his fingers close crushingly tight around the cup and Wangji gives it a worried glance.

All of that and more is coming to light for Sizhui. He undoubtedly feels like he’d been lied to and questions what else is a lie. The safety and stability Wangji had tried to provide for him has been ripped out from underneath his feet. He probably no longer feels safe. If he ever did. As a child Sizhui may not have had any tangible memories of his past but he still very much had the physical memory, it had been evident in his reactions to things. The sheen of hyper-vigilance in his eyes that only ever seemed to quiet down when he was alone with Wangji. How he hid in the folds of Wangji’s robes the first few times Jin Sect representatives came to visit Cloud Recess, his eyes impossible wide and trembling before they rolled back in his head and he crumbled to the ground.

Wangji feels that tightening in his gut just thinking about it.

Wei Ying pours himself another cup. “Ever since Jingyi came to tell us about Sizhui’s nightmares I’ve been keeping an extra watchful eye on him. I’ve tried to encourage him to talk but he’s surprisingly good at deflecting, did he learn that from me or Zewu-Jun?”

“Wei Ying. Brother taught him how to smile and pretend it’s raining.”

“Yeah, that’s a whole other can of worms, which I’m not sure how to unpack. I feel like I might need to have a serious conversation with Zewu-Jun too one of these days. But that can wait, first we need to get this Sizhui situation on the right track. I mean, your Gusu-Lan sect seem to think I spend all my time lazing around being a flippant buffoon, which is unfair.” He bemoans “When someone I care about is hurting, I’m more than capable of knocking in a few heads or lending an ear, whatever’s necessary. But that isn’t easy when the one you’re trying to help isn’t playing along… though I guess that’s quite common…”

Wangji whisks the empty cup from Wei Ying’s alcohol numb fingers. “It is hard to imagine.” He muses “Sizhui was always such a compliant child.”

Wei Ying’s lips twists into an irked expression “Of course he was.” He clips shortly “Wen Yuan learned from birth that noncompliance leads to violence, torture and death.”

As soon as those words hit the cup slips from Wangji’s stunned fingers. Pale and wide-eyed he stares at Wei Ying. “…Sizhui—” he speaks thinly.

Wei Ying’s expression turns dark. “Sizhui is a Wen. And we might tell him over and over, swear up and down, that that doesn’t make him evil. But everywhere he turns in this world. All around. From all walks of life. He hears something else. Everyone talks about the evil Wen’s. How they were all evil, every single last one of them, down to the smallest baby-faced child.” Wei Ying sniffs, grim eyes flashing. Wangji frowns sadly.  

“Foul, evil monsters who should be flogged, flayed and flacked up, staked through and burned alive. Their heads displayed and bodies strung up to rot under their precious sun. Their aches thrown to the pits and ruins of Nightless city.” Wei Ying’s nose curls in distain. “These words are spoken at every cultivation conference, with contempt and despise. Taught in the classrooms as history’s undeniable truth. Said among patrons of teahouses, brothels and Inns. Disciples of all sects’ sneer with disdain and spit at everything Wen. With fervour and venom parents tell their children this at home. Hatred for the Wen’s on the lips of men and women in the streets. Inflamed elders with tongues and words of acid whenever the name Wen is brought up. Remember what Jiang Cheng said.” Wei Ying’s jaw locks, teeth clenched tight together as he tries to speak through the anger. Wangji reaches out taking one of Wei Ying’s shaking hands into his, trying to offer some sort of comfort but it does very little to quench the fury sparking through Wei Ying’s eyes. “All the meanwhile, here’s our little child of Wen who has to stand here -hidden from world- and let all these words scrape and chafe and claw at the already abysmal hole in his heart. All while being forced to pretend he’s not a Wen and those words don’t affect him! Frankly, I’m sick of it and so is probably A-Yuan!” When Wei Ying finally turn and looks at him the anger in his eyes has been replaced by pain. “A person can only take so much, Lan Zhan! A person can only live in pretence for so long…”

Wangji feels that like a punch to the gut.

“I’m afraid he’s going to break soon.”

THE END CHAPTER 4

A/N:
* If you’ve ever been gripped by the neck you know what that feels like. That grip has you locked! You’re not going anywhere. Try to move your head at all and you’ll feel a zap go down your spine. Horrible.

* I think Wen Ning is actually pretty wise. He get portrayed as slow and naïve a lot but he’s not unintelligent. He knows more than he’s given credit for. He’s more than brute force. I want to portray him as a caring Uncle who cares about and understands Sizhui in a way the others don’t.

* Considering everything that's happened recently, especially with the scraping (and I know this fic and several of my other works were scraped.) I feel this needs to be said. I will Never use AI. Everything I write is 100% my work and my thoughts. Period.  

Thanks to everyone who kudosed and commented. You are the best! :)