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Chapter Text

Lan Zhan wakes up earlier than normal. It's still dark outside the Jingshi and colder in his bedroom since the heaters haven't kicked in yet. He lets himself doze gently as his senses come alive. He can hear the songbirds beginning to greet the new day, even if it still has a few hours to go; sweet thrush song and the hearty warblers are joined by the ravens…which is an odd addition. Lan Zhan dismisses it though, and breathes even deeper, letting the sandalwood scent soothe his soul.

He doesn't know what is wrong, only that something feels off… something is not quite right. It's like an itch under his skin that won't go away, or that feeling before his phone rings. When he gets that tingling on the back of his neck just before the knock on his door happens. It's a sensory feeling belonging to the surreal, a mix of a not-really-there haziness, of misty dreams and his imagination. Anticipation, tense and ready in his gut like a quiet coiled snake ready to strike. His uncle has often said that the smallest stone can cause an avalanche and Lan Zhan can't help feeling a premonitional shiver for today. 

Lan Zhan focuses on the sounds of his home to calm himself, a grounding technique as familiar to him as the wiry coarse beard on his uncle's face, or the gentleness of his mother's smile in his memories. 

This house, empty and yet fused with a pull he could not at first identify, became his when he saw it three years ago. He needed a base from where he could work uninterrupted, and yet still be on site for research purposes since the GusuLan Institute library was factually the best in China. Honed, archived and especially curated towards specialist texts and documents pertaining to the priceless history of not only the world at large, but specifically including the lands belonging to the Five Great Sects of the Past and the participants of the Sunshot Campaign. Brought together by a combined effort from his now deceased parents, being here made him feel somehow closer to them, even if they were no longer around. 

Making the house a home took a further two months, modernising it to refurbish with the necessary plumbing and heating, as well as the renovations in the kitchen. Now it has state-of-the-art technology and a microwave to heat up his food whenever he forgets to eat it. But the more time he spends within these four walls, he discovers that the home has a personality of its own. It's quirky.

It used to be where his mother lived for a short time, before she passed away.

The house makes inexplicable noises; creaking floorboards and hollow walls. Lan Zhan feels welcomed whenever he hears the subdued roar of the flame inside his boiler, the little sounds his fridge makes as it communicates with the freezer next to it. He sees them side by side; an old wizened couple looking after each other, images of a cute wrinkled granny with her equally cute husband bent over with age. It warms his lonely heart. 

But it is time to rise. Lan Zhan has never done well with idleness, and in spite of still feeling tired, he throws back the sheets and begins his day.

**************

When he opens his front door ready to leave, Lan Zhan is surprised to see his brother walking down the path that leads to the Jingshi. It's Monday morning and that means sharing a second breakfast with his brother and uncle. It is also an informal meeting where the three of them keep each other updated and aware of the goings on in their lives. A chance to share their company and a cup of well-brewed silver needle tea before the tidal wave of the real world consumes them in its own fashion, pulling everyone away again towards their own separate directions.

“Good morning, Professor Lan,” he teases. Lan XiChen is in high spirits today.

“Ge.” He tilts his head, purposefully keeping his greeting on the right side of casual but respectful nonetheless. 

“How did you sleep?” XiChen's tone changes as he peers at Lan Zhan worriedly. “Still having trouble?”

“Mn. Too few hours, I think.” It's not a serious problem, not yet. But the gradual change to his routine is annoying. Lan Zhan can deal with the side effects of aching muscles that have not had the proper amount of rest needed to heal, and the headaches that suddenly appear towards the evenings. It's just that he has to devote the extra energy to not letting these symptoms affect him and his work. If only his body remained asleep, it would fix the issue. It's such a small thing, and yet it feels so significant. 

Lan XiChen makes a sympathetic noise. “Have you considered my suggestion at all?”

Lan Zhan glares at the frosty ground crunching beneath their feet as they begin the long walk back to the main building. That's also where XiChen should have waited instead of making an unnecessary trip because Lan Zhan was going to walk there anyway. He wonders if there was a reason for it.

“Come now, you haven't had a holiday in years. I know our uncle has imbibed within us a strict work ethic, but resting is just as, if not more, important. Staying cooped up inside four walls might be taking a toll on your mental health, and affecting your sleep patterns. The worst case scenario is work piling up, and we both know you would never allow that to happen.” His breath comes out in little puffs of steam as XiChen's hand comes to rest on Lan Zhan’s forearm. “At least please think about it. You could go somewhere nice and sunny. And if you want, Didi, I will come with you.”

“Mn.” Lan Zhan does not dislike the idea outright. It's more along the lines of if he goes on holiday, he would be away from his work and focusing on his current project gives him immeasurable joy. He's not even kidding.

At the moment, Lan Zhan is about to start working on a stone tablet that is written, nay, engraved with the seal script of ancient times, and he is tasked with finding out exactly how old it is and translating the characters to find out what it says. He's run tracings through a slew of computer programs and sent off tiny samples of the stone to specialised laboratories around the world, waiting for them to come back to him with usable data. The problem is copying out the text without making mistakes. Seal script by its very essence is a shorthand version of an ancient language, one still far removed from modern day Cantonese and Mandarin, even further away from the simplified Pinyin used as a bridge between Eastern and Western cultures. Lan Zhan has always found the nuances of old languages and calligraphy fascinating, attracted to how many meanings could be assigned to the individual characters and then compounded or retracted by a single stroke or even a dot. The possibilities are endless. 

It's hard to explain, but when he gets something right, the rush of adrenaline straight to his heart is indescribable, and impossible to replicate via other activities. Lan Zhan knows this to be a certain truth. Hence his reluctance to indulge in some R&R because he thinks it's a waste of time and a pointless exercise. 

What is even more fascinating to him is that this tablet was found nearby, in the valley behind the back hills of the Cloud Recesses. In ancient times, all of the surrounding land belonged to the then Lan Clan, one of the five major sects to join in the Sunshot Campaign. Further excavations of the site are still ongoing, though nothing else of significance has been discovered yet. However, Lan Zhan gets a thrill of excitement every time he touches the tablet, knowing that it must have once belonged to his ancestors, and that their fingers must have held it too, once upon a time. It is his connection to a more personal history.

As for the actual insomnia, it isn't that he can't sleep at all but that he can't stay asleep like he used to. Something is disturbing his rest and he has no idea how to fix this. But he doesn't want their uncle to worry, so he requests that XiChen not mention anything about it during their morning tea meeting. XiChen frowns but he reluctantly agrees.

The rest of the way they're quiet, each thinking of other things and sharing a companionable silence. The main university building looms up ahead of them, and then XiChen hurries forward. Lan Zhan startles at his sudden fast pace and his gaze drifts towards the glass doors where a too-familiar shadow lurks just behind them.

That's Meng Yao. He's dressed in a sharp butter-coloured suit, his impeccably tied cravat matching the deeper caramel pocket square over his chest.

And it's none of Lan Zhan’s business why he's here. XiChen has always dealt with the representatives of the other institutes, though he has a soft spot for Meng Yao in particular. Once in the past, he'd laughed outright when Lan Zhan had suggested that the Jin might have ulterior motives for visiting so often and that perhaps they should alert security to keep a closer eye on him. Meng Yao works for the Jin Academy of Science and could be considered their rival, even if their fields of expertise were different. 

Lan Zhan still believes in his original assessment, and the old adage: better to be forearmed than forewarned. 

Once inside, he appreciates the warmth wrapping around him like a well-worn favourite blanket driving away the chill of the outside, and he's just about to walk past both Meng Yao and XiChen, when a younger man joins them. His sharp gray eyes dart here and there but when he notices Lan Zhan looking at him, he quickly lowers his gaze to the floor. He's also wearing a pale yellow suit, though this one is a little too large around his slim shoulders accentuating his narrow, lean frame. He seems much younger than the person he is visiting with. 

Well, whatever this is, it's XiChen's problem now, he thinks as he walks past them, hoping no one ropes him into a useless introduction. 

“WangJi, a moment, please.”

Oh no. That's XiChen's no nonsense tone.

Lan Zhan stops where he is and turns the bare minimum towards his brother. “Good morning,” he forces himself to say, even though the passive aggressive bitch inside him asks, “Is it, though?”

“WangJi, A-Yao was wondering if you wouldn't mind him and his younger brother, Mo XuanYu, joining us for morning tea with Uncle. It's important, otherwise he wouldn't suggest it,” he adds.

XiChen makes it sound normal, that's the biggest issue Lan Zhan has with it. Family Time is supposed to be exactly that, and guests, especially slimy ones too eager to please, should wait their turn. Lan Zhan wants to tell him the truth, that, no thank you, the intrusion of A-Yao (and since when has XiChen begun addressing him so familiarly???) and his brother is NOT welcome. But years of ingrained manners stop him from voicing his honest opinion. 

He can provide an excellent alternative, though. “If Mr. Meng has arrived to meet with you, perhaps Uncle will excuse Xiongzhang from attending.” In his mind, although he will miss his brother's presence this morning, it's a small price to pay in lieu of having to tolerate the always simpering Meng Yao. Lan Zhan has no patience for bumlickers, particularly this one. Lan Zhan can't trust him and he can't understand why his brother does. It's nothing concrete, just a gut feeling. 

“Actually, Professor Lan, it's you I have come to meet on a matter of some urgency. I'll forgive you for mistaking my reason for being here since it's usually to see Er-Ge, but that's not why we're here today.” Meng Yao smiles accommodatingly, flashing his dimples and he even bows again.

Lan Zhan’s Inner Bitch: *warning bells... 

Outwardly, Lan Zhan sighs quietly. Patience is a virtue, he reminds himself, nodding towards his brother, whose expression is full of curiosity now.

“You won't regret this,” Meng Yao insists, following him alongside XiChen. “I am confident that the subject matter in question will appeal to your expertise in particular. I am, of course, referring to the Yiling Laozu.”

Lan Zhan stops walking.

“New evidence,” Meng Yao smirks and stalks past him right into the library.

Lan Zhan hates him because he's right. If this is truly about the Yiling Laozu, then there's little that Lan Zhan won't tolerate in order to find out more.

Chapter Text

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Yesterday

Uncle Qiren at least, can be counted on to share Lan Zhan’s utter dislike of Meng Yao, and his companion, and the disturbance of their regular Family meeting. This morning hour is sacred, just for himself and his two nephews, and woe betide anyone who messes with that routine, even if it's his eldest nephew (what part of sacred doesn't he get??). Lan Zhan’s Inner Bitch rejoices in the pettiness of the scowl on his uncle's face, ever deepening with each word that leaves XiChen's mouth by way of explanation.

When the tea is brought in by a staff member, XiChen cheerfully asks for more cups and breakfast utensils for their guests. After Meng Yao pointedly stares at him for a few seconds longer, XiChen also asks the person returning to make sure they aren't disturbed. He even goes so far as to lock the doors of the library afterwards, leaving the key in the hole.

Lan Zhan makes a note of all the changes but says nothing as his annoyance grows. It's times like these that he questions XiChen's loyalty. If push ever came to shove and XiChen made to choose one or the other, would he side with Meng Yao or his own family? The answer to that is becoming unclear by each day and Lan Zhan hopes too, that such a situation will never arise.

It's an unspoken rule that family conversations and anything pertaining to what they might share privately had they been alone is tabled, left for later or another day entirely. Even if XiChen doesn't mind exposing inclusive details to strangers since all the rules are suddenly lax, both Lan Qiren and Lan Zhan are still extremely opposed. He and Lan Qiren pointedly refuse to speak until they finish eating and drinking. Even then, every time Meng Yao clears his throat ready to speak, Lan Qiren takes another excruciatingly slow sip from his cup, seemingly nonchalant about it, and consequently shutting up the guest. But Meng Yao seems to be well-informed about the rules and furthermore, is willing to play along. He must want whatever it is badly.

The Inner Bitch gloats smugly, nevertheless.

After about the eighth such action, XiChen jumps in, dispelling the built up tension.

“A-Yao, please tell us why you came to see us. If there's anything we can do to help, just say the word,” he encourages.

Who's ‘we’? Lan Zhan wonders, grumpily. ‘We’ did not sign up for anything.

“Thank you, Er-Ge. Well, I should get straight to the point.”

Lan Zhan and Lan Qiren share a look. Meng Yao, fully aware of the impending derailment, quickly starts talking.

“A few weeks back just after the lunar new year, some vandals, teenagers really, broke into the Burial Mounds and set off fireworks at night. You might have caught the headlines the next day, but then the whole matter was hushed up because no one wanted to cause a mass panic. You see, the Mounds were sealed off to the public after that terrible landslide some twenty years back devastated the area, and seismic experts declared it unstable. But children will be children. Tell them not to do something and they'll want to do it even more.” He laughs grimly and it is not a happy sound. “Regardless, their actions set off a chain of events. The fireworks were loud enough that the echoes against an unforgiving landscape caused not only another rockslide, but a sinkhole appeared right under their feet. A big one.”

“Are the children safe?” Lan Zhan demands.

Meng Yao casts his eyes down sorrowfully. “Unfortunately, by the time the emergency services reached their location, it was too late.”

“How many?” Lan Zhan persists.

“A-Zhan, maybe–” XiChen tries to intervene.

“I asked you, how many?” Lan Zhan levels a cool gaze that flickers over his brother before landing on the smaller man sitting next to him. XiChen sighs quietly and resumes drinking his tea, aware that his younger brother isn't about to let this go.

“Five of them. But the sinkhole revealed a cave that might have been in use several hundreds of years ago. I am sure you are not ignorant of who is famed to have lived in the Demon Subduing Cave, Professor Lan.” Meng Yao gives himself a dramatic pause, letting his words take effect.

“You found it? Oh my God, A-Yao! That's a miracle! You must be so excited!?” XiChen exclaims, and Meng Yao tingles with open joy, his small face and beady hungry eyes ecstatic at the response. His dimples peek out again, and XiChen softens even further.

“Were their families notified?” Lan Zhan asks Meng Yao. This isn't part of his pettiness. He has always cared too much about the casualties of breakthroughs. People always seemed to forget about the innocent victims caught in the fray through no fault of their own. Even in this case, no matter how stupid those youngsters were for ignoring the many strongly-worded warnings and barriers set up around the restricted Burial Mounds, they wouldn't have considered that entering and provoking the instability of such a harsh climate would result in the loss of life. More specifically, their own. It is a tragedy that shouldn't be glossed over, and the dead should be honoured. Such young souls should be mourned, and the lives they would never get to experience, acknowledged.

“Yes, yes,” Meng Yao hurries along impatiently, but he's quick witted enough to read the room. More calmly, he adds, “My father paid for their funerals and internment.”

“I would expect nothing less,” XiChen replies somberly, reaching over to cover Meng Yao’s knee.

Lan Zhan refrains from rolling his eyes. Jin Guangshan is a blight on the face of the Earth with more money than sense. He likely would have spun the act into a reprehensible PR event. Thinking that the end of the topic, Meng Yao swiftly moves on.

“A suspected explosion had led to the cave and the surrounding area to be completely buried, and the cave is thought to have been rendered completely airtight, resulting in near perfect condition of preservation. The lack of humidity and fluctuation of temperature kept all the artefacts found inside intact, even the writing on parchments and scrolls. Everything we've found so far is as pristine as the day it was naturally buried. Our experts have been working tirelessly. But we have endured…certain obstacles that are threatening to endanger the entire operation.” Meng Yao finishes his tea, keeping a careful eye on his listeners.

Neither Lan Qiren nor Lan Zhan make any move to refill his cup. Lan Zhan just wants him to get on with it and then fuck off.

XiChen audibly sighs and fills it for him anyway. “Please elaborate. What obstacles have you encountered? Such a huge endeavour must require sacrifices of the highest order, both of time management and skill. Tell me, A-Yao, who do I have to beat up for you?” He laughs gently at the blooming blush on Meng Yao’s face.

Lan Zhan’s Inner Bitch looks around for an empty container to throw up in.

Lan Qiren scowls harder at the table.

“Er-Ge, you're too kind. But I'm afraid you might change your mind after you hear what I have to report.”

Lan Zhan watches as the supremely fake man trembles, letting his eye release one single drop of moisture which he delicately removes with his pinky finger.

“Never,” XiChen promises vehemently, watching him intently.

“If we ever get to hear it,” grouses Lan Qiren, ignoring the extra theatrics.

“Ah, quite,” Meng Yao sits up straighter. “You see, along with the many artefacts, a cauldron was discovered. Once the outside dust particles were removed and the item brought into a secured facility, the nearest one being the basement laboratory under the Yiling Museum, the archaeologist who uncovered it recognised a talisman design etched onto the lid of the vessel. My father was anxious to know the contents of the food preparation container, suspecting it to be used for more important storage.” Meng Yao pulls out his phone and goes through no less than three security features: face recognition, biometric thumbprint and a four-digit passkey code. He selects an app and swipes across his screen a few times before passing his phone directly to Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan only accepts because he's too surprised; as is XiChen who masks his hurt that he wasn't the first one shown, by asking, “May I see after you're done, Didi?”

He nods, focusing on the picture. Meng Yao is right to call it a cauldron, and it seems authentic. Made of bronze, the engraved characters stand out despite the discolouration of the medium, once possibly a golden brown and now reduced to a tarnished splotch of mud brown and metallic grey. Meng Yao has taken the picture next to a metre stick so Lan Zhan can see how big the vessel is. There's also someone holding another measuring stick upright next to it, giving him the correct dimensions of height at sixty centimeters, two feet in imperial, and seventy centimeters in length.

“Swipe across to see the top of it,” Meng Yao directs him.

Lan Zhan does that. This picture is taken from above. The lid of the cauldron bears a carved handle to remove it, presumably when it was being used to cook actual food…but surrounding it is an array made up of four circles within each other of decreasing sizes. That by itself is unusual.

Four is culturally an inauspicious number. Usually, arrays of this nature discovered from the past, and especially from the era of Cultivation and using different methods of subduing prey, would have featured three circles in total, five for particularly complicated spells. With something this advanced, every detail is important. Lan Zhan pulls out his little bunny notebook and opens it to a new page, copying out the design as carefully as he can, making notes in the margin and drawing arrows to lead away to a bigger space where he jots down his thoughts. Every time the screen goes dark, he makes an impatient noise and then Meng Yao goes through the whole rigmarole of security barriers again before handing him his phone back so that he can continue.

His attention is wholly fixed on what he's doing, but because he's adept at initial examinations, he half listens to the conversation outside of his task. When he gives the phone back to its owner, signalling that he's done with it for now, Meng Yao shows XiChen the pictures.

XiChen: Why is it still sealed? Have you and your team tried opening it?

Meng Yao: Yes. The seal is intact, and something so old must be handled with care. But there is something else preventing us from making any progress. My father suspects that there must be items of great importance hidden inside, hence all the precautions of securing it. We cannot force it open. Plus, Er-Ge, there is something vital I must inform you all about. Before you agree to help.

XiChen: A-Yao, please, share your thoughts.

Meng Yao: We think that this array is a curse.

XiChen: A curse? No! That’s surely just a myth–

Meng Yao: Unfortunately, too many things have happened that point to it. You see, the archaeologist who first entered the cave and was in charge of excavations, arranged for the transportation of the cauldron. The next day, he was late reporting for work and then they discovered him dead in his hotel room. The door was locked from the inside, and all the windows shut. A sealed room, and his body was untouched. No marks, no bites, nothing. The coroner's report stated a healthy heart for a thirty year old, and he had no underlying health conditions. You can imagine how shocking it was. All of that happened three weeks ago.

XiChen: I'm sorry for your loss. Did you know him well?

Meng Yao: No, only in passing though we were somewhat better acquainted from about a month ago, just after the new year. I was the liaison between him and my father, who wanted daily progress reports. Another scientist was brought in, an expert whose degree specialised in metal artefacts. Seventy-two hours of studying the cauldron later, he was hit by a truck on his way to work.

XiChen: Surely that was no one's fault but the driver of the vehicle that killed him! Again, I'm sorry for what you had to deal with, A-Yao.

Meng Yao: That was only the second one. In total, we've had five highly dedicated and skilled professionals die, all of them after coming into contact with the vessel. The longest time being five days and the last one only a few hours into his study. I don't know if we can still say it's a coincidence, Er-Ge. In spite of our efforts to be discreet, people are talking. Volunteers began leaving, after the second death to plague this project, and now, no one wants anything to do with it. The site has been abandoned and the museum only has a security detail left.

Lan Zhan looks around and suddenly gets up to switch on the lights. The library, despite its floor to ceiling windows on the south side, has darkened so much in the past half hour that he is having trouble seeing the notes hastily written down in his book. When he returns to his seat, Meng Yao is leaning into his space and trying to read what he's jotted down. He blushes faintly at being caught but carries on talking to XiChen as if nothing happened. Such a thick face…

Meng Yao: Were you expecting a storm, Er-Ge? The clouds appear quite dark.

XiChen: Not that I recall. Let me check.

Lan Zhan looks up just in time to see him show his phone to Meng Yao, the weather report for the next seven days showing bright sunshine with not even a hint of clouds.

XiChen: That's so strange.

Outside, thunder crashes loudly in a direct contradiction to him. A moment later, rain pelts down in angry waves, slamming against the fortified glass. The noise is jarring. Even Lan Qiren looks outside with dismay, a crease between his brows.

Lan Zhan returns to his notes, a suspicion in his mind pertaining to what he's seen on Meng Yao’s phone.

“Is it possible to share the photos you have?” He asks Meng Yao, seeing no solution except asking directly.

“I'm afraid not, unless…” Meng Yao bites his bottom lip as if another thought has just occurred to him.

“Unless?”

“Unless you were to agree to accompany us back. I've actually come with a proposal.” Meng Yao smiles bashfully.

“A-Yao, what kind of proposal?” Lan XiChen shifts slightly away from him, glancing at Lan Zhan.

“My father is requesting his help, Er-Ge. Contractual, of course. But you have to sign an N/D form.” Meng Yao doesn't even have the decency to look contrite.

“Let me get this straight. You want, or rather, your father has requested my brother's help in a case that has resulted in the death of over ten people?” XiChen's voice has gone cold.

“Er-Ge, please don't put it that way!” Meng Yao scoots closer to him, putting a hand on his arm. “It isn't like that at all!” He cries.

“I find that hard to believe,” XiChen shakes him off.

That answers Lan Zhan’s previous doubts about his brother. But the thing is, he wants to do this.

All of his adult life, he's extensively studied the Sunshot Campaign. His interests ranged from the parts each Sect played in bringing down the Wen Sect and their crazy leader, Wen Ruohan, but that was only the beginning. The more Lan Zhan dug deeper, the more he uncovered their corruption, how easily they turned on the one person who changed the tide of the war, albeit in the most gruesome manner. His interest in the past opened the door to a new obsession: finding out about the Yiling Laozu.

Who was the man behind the larger-than-life persona? Who was the person behind the vast armies of the Dead, the one who was reputed to control an immense, limitless power and ended up winning the war for the then Cultivation World? So far, Lan Zhan has uncovered bits and pieces of information, and he suspects that a young man called Wei WuXian transformed into the formidable fighting force, the man who would later be hailed as the Yiling Laozu. Many reports confirmed his abode as the Burial Mounds and so far, Lan Zhan has found nothing to contradict this. That means, if Meng Yao is correct, then by discovering the Demon Subduing Cave, that is the primary residence of the Yiling Laozu.

If he says yes to this, Lan Zhan might finally make the greatest breakthrough of his career. That aside, he will find out more about the elusive, talented man famed as being the Bane of the Five major sects. The Destroyer of the Wen Sect, the Enemy of the Cultivation World and the Bringer of Death and Destruction.

“I'll do it,” he agrees quietly, making his family gasp.

Chapter Text

XiChen balks at him.

“Didi, no! Don't do this!”

Lan Zhan looks at their uncle instead. Lan Qiren is already staring back at him thoughtfully. His gaze is unwavering, his eyes dark with consideration. He turns to Meng Yao. 

“Leave us. I would talk to my nephews in private.”

Meng Yao stands up and Mo XuanYu scurries up to join him. They both bow low, and Meng Yao produces a golden envelope from his inside pocket.

“Very well, we will wait outside. But please, I ask you to think carefully before you decide. This is an opportunity of a lifetime, and I wouldn't be here asking for your cooperation if I thought you were not qualified to help us.” He places the gold envelope in front of Lan Zhan. “Even you cannot deny the mutual benefit.”

Very clever, Lan Zhan thinks. Enough praise to sound like he means it, just the right amount of bait-dangling to pique his interest and the warning beforehand to give the impression that he cares about Lan Zhan at all.

“A-Yao, tell me something. Can you guarantee his safety?” XiChen asks him. His expression is one of doubt and fear.

“Er-Ge, to the best of my ability.” Meng Yao bows.

That's not a yes, Lan Zhan notices.

Just as he turns to leave, Lan Qiren adds, “And that is exactly why we need to discuss this.”

Three pairs of eyes watch as Meng Yao tilts his head amicably before he and Mo XuanYu exit the room. The door closes behind them with a soft click.

Lan Zhan takes a deep breath to prepare himself. Now he's got to face his family. XiChen is the first to speak.

“Didi, please reconsider! Not counting the kids, five renowned scientists, one of them a trained archaeologist, have died in this ridiculous pursuit. What makes you think you won't suffer the same fate? I'm begging you, don't do this. I don't want anything to happen to you!” XiChen looks genuinely freaked out about this. “No project is worth putting your life in danger!”

“Uncle, what are your thoughts?” Lan Zhan asks him. 

Their uncle is a highly respected and qualified scientist in his own right, having published many books that have received acclaim. His opinion can be trusted, and his thought process will be unbiased.

Lan Qiren strokes his whiskers carefully, his blank expression hiding his inner dialogue. 

Lan Zhan pours more fresh tea for everyone, ignoring the way XiChen is practically vibrating in his seat with agitation. 

“The Jins cannot be trusted for obvious reasons. Jin Guangshan values results over ethics. Meng Yao is a loyal son, and therefore our lack of trust must extend to him, too. His arrival here is unexpected, but it signifies the Jins’ acceptance that you are a worthy expert of your field. Though I cannot deny that this is a valuable opportunity to further your success and renown, do not let that colour your final decision. Undertaking anything new has risks of its own, but by his own admission, Meng Yao has been honest enough to confirm that the job is dangerous.” Lan Qiren takes a sip of his tea. “Tell me, why do you want to do it, A-Zhan?”

Lan Zhan considers this question. 

Privately, he knows himself. He would do anything to find out more about the Yiling Laozu. Meng Yao has given them enough scintillating information to reel him in, and just the mention of the Demon Subduing Cave is enough for Lan Zhan to get on the first plane out to Yiling. He wants to investigate the cave himself if possible, walk upon the floor of it and know that at one time in the past, the Yiling Laozu's feet had touched the same surface. The same reverence can be applied to whatever else the Jins have removed from there. Since they are in possession of everything, unless Lan Zhan cooperates with them, he has no chance of accessing any of the scrolls or parchment with the Yiling Laozu's own handwriting on it. He is acutely aware that none of those pieces may ever see the light of day, not if the Jin Academy of Science decides not to share with the public. Even if they arranged a special showcase of the artefacts, it would not be anytime soon. 

The same itchy feeling from the morning returns, crawling under his skin as he looks outside. The storm has not abated; if anything, it has only gotten worse. Rain blurs the view of the mountainside, the rich green grasses and the dark buildings merging into faint muddy-coloured blobs, dirty splotches of shades comparable to a Jackson Pollock masterpiece. The fierce winds howl around the building searching for a way in. It adds to his own restlessness, a building tension that feels like a winding tornado inside him.

Lan Zhan knows that it isn't enough for him to simply state that he wants to do it. His own personal desire cannot get in the way of science, of new discoveries. He is fully aware that he's appealing to two clever experts, professionals who can smell the bullshit from a mile away. Whatever he says, he has to make it real.

“Why did the Jin Academy of Science take control over the site? The Demon Subduing Cave lies in the Burial Mounds, and that land is under the Yiling jurisdiction. The Museum should have had the first claim.” Lan Zhan looks towards Lan XiChen for an answer. This question has been niggling at him, quietly growing in the back of his mind until he can't ignore it any longer.

“The Yiling Museum might be situated far from Lanling, but it is run by a sister company affiliated with the Jin Academy. Not many people know that. However, even if it tried to claim first rights, the museum doesn't have the clout nor the resources to properly carry out the excavations.” XiChen explains patiently. “Why? What does that have to do with your decision?”

“I am worried that if we leave it up to them, the Jin Academy will bury anything of worth pertaining to the Yiling Laozu. If they choose not to go public with whatever they've found, then it will remain hidden indefinitely.”

“But Didi, you know what they say about the Yiling Laozu. The rumours alone are legendary. Apparently, he ate twelve babies a day, and defiled three virgin sacrifices in order to maintain his corruptive ways. The path to the dark side invests in bloody payment, and the horrors of what the world went through back then are still used as stories to frighten children into good behaviour today. I cannot agree with your decision. You are playing with fire for no clear reason.” XiChen insists.

“But is the truth not the reason why we persist in finding out?” Lan Qiren asks him. “Our job as scientists is looking for proof, finding evidence to corroborate rumours, myths and legends. Otherwise, what is the point?”

This unexpected support blindsides Lan Zhan. He didn't think Uncle Qiren broadminded enough to be on his side at all.

“Myths and legends, uncle? Really?” XiChen shakes his head.

“A-Huan, did you know once upon a time, people believed that the earth was completely flat? There were others who claimed that if one travelled right to the end, they could simply fall off the edge! Others believed the land to balance on the back of a great turtle. What are these if not myths and legends? Until proof is found to dispute them, I do not believe anything should be dismissed out of hand. As scientists, we are duty bound to keep an open mind, for that is the only way to find the truth. I believe this is what A-Zhan is striving for. It is commendable that he is not allowing fear of the path to get in his way.” There's a rebuke in his words, that XiChen doesn't miss and his ears light up to pinken. 

“So you're saying it's okay for him to throw himself in danger?” XiChen glowers at them both.

“You are willfully picking and choosing what to accept from my answer.” Lan Qiren tells him. He sounds disappointed. And tired. “If A-Zhan is careful, then nothing will happen to him. But to sit at home, cowering under the bedclothes just because of the possibility that something bad will happen, that's just cowardice. A-Zhan, do you have a plan?” Lan Qiren dismisses XiChen's objections just like that, and moves on.

“If everything hinges on this,” Lan Zhan glances at the gold envelope in front of him, “then the first step is to sign it.”

“Wait, one should not rush to comply with those who are pushing at us,” Lan Qiren advises him. “You need to ask for something in return, like a bargaining chip. Make it difficult for them, even if you've decided to cooperate. What do you want to achieve?”

“I want to investigate the deaths of the people involved, and to check whether or not the claims that they are related to whatever has been found in Yiling substantiated or dismissed accordingly. I also want unlimited access to everything found in the Demon Subduing Cave.” Lan Zhan admits immediately. 

“Good, that way you can either prove or deny the curse theory,” Lan Qiren approves, pride shining in his eyes. His shoulders lower fractionally. “But if there are suspicious circumstances, then it stands to reason that the Jins might not be as innocent as we would like,” he glances at Lan XiChen before continuing. “You must be careful if you're thinking about pursuing that angle. Do not let on to anyone what you are doing. As for the second one, by all means use it as a deal breaker. It will lower suspicion and give them something to pretend to consider. If they want you badly enough, they will acquiesce to your demands.”

“Thank you, Uncle.” Lan Zhan bows towards him. “At this point, I think they are running out of options.”

“Uncle, I cannot believe you are willing to endanger A-Zhan!” XiChen explodes, disagreeing with their decision. 

“On the contrary, I am counseling him on staying safe,” Lan Qiren replies calmly. “Do you believe that if A-Zhan says no to them, they'll simply give up and slink back into whatever hole they came from? That is childish and naive, A-Huan! They will find a way because Jin Guangshan never accepts no for an answer. First, they'll try to offer him more money. If that doesn't work, then they'll threaten him. Jin Guangshan knows better than anyone what damage a sullied reputation can do to a man's career, and he's not above exploiting every advantage. Just now, you were too frank with that slimy leech, exposing your inner thoughts without a care. Do not trust so easily, A-Huan, because that way leads to heartbreak.” 

“So what should I do, Uncle?” Thoroughly chastised, Lan XiChen bows his head. “I've never lied to A-Yao. I always believed he has my best interests at heart…and now, today. Well, I saw a side of him that I found painful to reconcile.”

“A-Huan, I am sorry for that,” Lan Qiren tells him sincerely. “You are true of heart and intention, and it is a crime to lie to one such as yourself. I can only ask you to take a mental step back from your friend and watch him closely. You can gain perspective by seeing the whole picture, and even if you do not like what you see, you must face up to the truth no matter how hard it is. Actions speak louder than words, A-Huan. Remember that.”

“Yes, Uncle,” Lan XiChen gives in.

Lan Qiren presses a button and they hear a muffled bell ringing.

“Yes, sir?”

“You may show our guests back in,” Lan Qiren informs his secretary. 

Seconds later, the door opens and a hopeful looking Meng Yao enters with Mo XuanYu trailing in after him.

“I hope you are ready to give me some good news,” Meng Yao says breathlessly, directing his words towards Lan Zhan but looking at XiChen instead.

“That depends on you,” Lan Zhan takes control of the conversation. 

“What do you mean?” Meng Yao feigns innocence. His wide-eyed stare is a little well practiced. A little too innocent looking to be properly believable. 

XiChen wants to kick himself. All this time, he can't believe he had fallen for this act, hook, line and sinker. He glances at their Uncle, who nods approvingly. But the worst part is, XiChen thinks, will be maintaining his own innocence. He can't give away to Meng Yao that he's on to his wily ways.

“In exchange for my expertise, I want unlimited access to everything found in the Demon Subduing Cave.”

Meng Yao stares at him for a few moments. “Then I insist on giving you a helping hand,” He raises the gauntlet. “That's why I brought him along. Mo XuanYu, meet the new director of your internship! You will be answering only to him from now on.” Meng Yao shows all of his teeth with a dangerous smile.

“That's good,” Uncle Qiren replies smoothly. “Then you understand why XiChen must come with A-Zhan. The sheer volume of work created by such an important discovery begs disbelief and you show experience and fortitude by giving A-Zhan someone to mentor. XiChen will help take some of the weight off them, by cataloguing and noting down anything of interest. Now, if we're done for the day…”

Lan Zhan quickly reads the contents of the letter in front of him and signs with a flourish. “I want a copy of this,” he adds.

“Done,” Meng Yao agrees, slumping into his seat like a puppet with his strings cut.

A not altogether untrue comparison, Lan Zhan believes. There's no way that Meng Yao will take a back seat in a project as important as this. He fully intends to milk Mo XuanYu and possibly XiChen for any insider information he can. Lan Zhan is going to have to be even more careful going forward…

Chapter Text

They have thirty minutes to get ready and pack essentials to accompany Meng Yao back to Yiling. He's waiting for them in the foyer of the main building, while the Twin Jades, a nickname earned a while back because of their similarities in looks and the resemblance towards the precious mineral, return to their homes.

Once they are in no danger of being overheard, XiChen whispers to Lan Zhan, “You do realise he's planting Mo XuanYu as his spy, right?”

“Mn. And Uncle Qiren has pushed you into the same role as that but for our team,” Lan Zhan adds. “With the added benefit of not having to sign the same N/D form.”

“Don't remind me, Didi,” Lan XiChen agrees.

Catching his tone, Lan Zhan pauses on the path leading to the Jingshi. They are out of sight from the main building and no one strays this far away from the public pathways.

“Ge…will you be alright? Pretending to be his friend still?”

XiChen takes a moment to think about it. “I suppose I still can't believe he has ulterior motives. I don't want that part to be true. But what I want and what is real are two different things. I just have to get used to that.”

“Betrayal isn't easy.”

“I'll be okay,” XiChen insists, but his words don't reach the light of his eyes.

***************

They return to the main building and Meng Yao leads them further up the mountain rather than down, which is strange.

“A-Yao, where are we going?” XiChen asks him, as the four of them make their way to a wide and empty plateau.

That's when they see Meng Yao pull out a walkie talkie and wave an arm wildly in the air, and that's followed by a loud whirring sound, so noisy that Lan Zhan can't hear his own thoughts.

It's a helicopter. Meng Yao tries to explain but it's no use, not until they climb aboard and put their headsets on, and only then there's a momentary relief from the blades slicing through the air. They strap themselves in and take off.

“I asked Senior Professor Lan for permission,” Meng Yao gestures towards the helicopter.

Lan Zhan’s ears are still ringing from how loud everything feels, and he hopes there aren't any further attempts at conversing. Judging from XiChen's face, it's something he also wishes for. Instead, he looks outside at the land dropping away from them. Cloud Recesses look beautiful, even as the storm evaporates and the sunshine breaks out to clear away the darkness. The ground is wet and shimmers as if someone has spilled thousands of diamonds over it, almost blinding him with sparkling brightness. Lan Zhan wants to return as soon as possible, the wish lodging inside his chest like a date stone gone sideways. But then, he has always felt that way about his home.

They pass over the bustling Caiyi Town, people resembling ants on the ground, the waterways serpentine winding through villages all the way to Biling lake. Suzhou's skyscrapers reach up like metal fingers grasping, trying to catch them in their steel-bone hands and reflecting the sunlight in a multitude of glass windows. From this great height, Lan Zhan can appreciate the different architectural efforts of the many successful businesses that house their headquarters downtown in the hub of the city. Various green pockets of gardens and parks are woven in between like a patchwork quilt, and while Lan Zhan has never cared for the city itself, finding it an urban nightmare; too loud, too fast, too much, he can still accept that it's beautiful in its own way.

Then come the great plains, wide meadowy expanses of terrain, mostly dry and brittle with the winter months not relinquishing their hold yet. It won't be truly warm until a few weeks have gone by, but there's a lesser known magnificence about the lands left to the whims of nature. Tumbleweeds and rocky landscapes are interspersed with wild, sharp-looking grasses, stark greens contrasting against fudge brown boulders, and the view doesn't change for a while.

What will they find when they get to Yiling? Will Lan Zhan be allowed into the Burial Mounds? Now that they're so close to the place, Lan Zhan finds it difficult to push down on the certain crushing disappointment should they refuse to let him visit the Demon Subduing Cave. He has to trust that Meng Yao will keep his word. He's so lost in his thoughts that at first, he doesn't register that his sleeve is being tugged until the movement catches his eye. It's Mo XuanYu, and there's a look of sudden excitement on his face as he points down towards the ground, but into the horizon.

Sharp, pointed peaks curling inwards like the teeth of a great beast fallen onto the ground rise up, far away. Blackened and ominous, great dark clouds swirl over the rocky bleak landscape. If there is beauty here, Lan Zhan can't see it, not when all he can feel is a crushing sadness tearing at his soul. The urge to cry is sudden and swift, and Lan Zhan blinks fast, feeling the aircraft begin its descent. Where is this sorrow coming from? It feels as if someone has taken a sledgehammer to his heart, shattering it over and over again. The pain is indescribable.

The Burial Mounds look near but it is an optical illusion. Their presence looming over the small city has a great impact on the vibes and the general mood of the place, as if the city and its inhabitants are just waiting for a calamity to befall upon them.

The helicopter lands on the roof of the tallest building, and they are made to wait until the rotary blades come to a complete standstill. The silence when it comes is a mercy that Lan Zhan cannot be grateful enough for as they are finally allowed to leave the aircraft.

“There are perks for working with one of the most financially stable institutes,” Meng Yao boasts as they walk towards the roof exit.

Lan Zhan doesn't react but his Inner Bitch does. She strikes a pose after snapping her fingers three times in a ‘Z’ shape, recalling Lan Zhan’s own personal fortune, not to mention the countless royalties he's paid as a result of his published works. And he's invested in property to such an extent that if he decided to stop working, it wouldn't change the way he lives for another twenty lifetimes. However, he does not like to talk about such things.

Mo XuanYu looks uncomfortable about the subject matter. Lan Zhan reminds himself that the young man is a plant, that he's probably been groomed to act as Meng Yao’s eyes and ears when Lan Zhan will be working, but he hasn't done anything wrong yet. Lan Zhan can be wary and still try to befriend him, because he just looks lonely.

It turns out that the building they landed on is the Yiling Museum.

Lan Zhan is not prepared.

They have walked out from the elevators straight onto the main gallery, and just like that, he's transported back in time to when Lan Zhan was twelve years old. That's when he visited the Yiling Museum for the first time on a school trip.

The others walk away, their voices fading to a low hum. But Lan Zhan is transfixed by the painting on the wall. His feet bring him straight to the dark corner where the shadows seem to part, revealing the twenty inch long portrait of the Yiling Laozu.

Lan Zhan has seen many versions of him, rendered in as many different forms as there are humans on the face of the Earth. He's seen big fellows with drooping cheeks, fierce eyes with overhanging brows, chubby ones with rolling tummies, and too skinny dudes that resemble bony skeletons with barely an inch of fat on their frames. But this depiction hits way too differently.

The portrait is like a punch to his solar plexus, sucking the air out of his lungs in one fatal swoop. This man is all about power. He exudes it in the same way that rich people smell of money, the allusion to it already there like he doesn't even have to try to flaunt it. His confidence is attractive; he knows what he can do and he's not afraid to show it. It's in his vibrant scarlet eyes flashing with intelligence, the gait of his hips accentuating his slim waist, his posture reminding Lan Zhan of a still tiger waiting to pounce. Gracefulness seems to dance around his nimble feet, robes parted and swishing around his ankles, and the light cadence of his arms swinging by his sides.

One hand carries the Demon Flute, Chenqing. Black, firmly exuding a dangerous vibe, a tassel of blood-red silk swings on one end held down by a purple jade lotus. It is a powerful, formidable weapon, even if Lan Zhan didn't know its history.

On his first ever visit, Lan Zhan had been seduced by the whole image of this man, the combined effects of his smiling mouth, his thoughtful dancing eyes so deeply etched with sorrow, his expression one of quiet resignation. The Yiling Laozu was more than just a faceless figure from the past but in this singular moment, he became a real person to Lan Zhan. A person who had his own hopes and dreams, a person who had rocketed to the skies on the winds of fortune, only to be cast down by the very people he had served, according to history.

But since history was only written and recorded by the victors, it could not stay as a reliable narrative of the truth; that became Lan Zhan’s job, and a duty that he took seriously.

After that first ever visit, Lan Zhan swore to himself that if he ever got the chance to come here again, he promised that he would take the time to fully absorb this image.

He forces himself to begin at the feet of the Yiling Laozu. Dusty black boots are barely visible under earthy, worn robes; modest clothes threadbare from overuse, with the slimmer fitted sleeves of one accustomed to hard work. Cinched in at the waist by a cloth sash accentuating a slim body, not out of choice but probably because times were hard. His chest is half exposed with a scar peeking out on his left side. That's the detail which had convinced Lan Zhan of this portrait's authenticity. The scar is clearly the Wen brand of the times, a fiery sigil of their Clan's sun symbol and a sign of barbaric subjugation.

Lan Zhan has been able to put together bits and pieces of several accounts detailing the killing of the Xuanwu, the famed Tortoise of Slaughter. More than one person mentioned the attempted branding of a female disciple from the Jin Sect of old, how the mistress of the second son of Wen Ruohan was overcome by a jealous rage and sought to disfigure the poor unfortunate girl who had caught the lecherous gaze of her lover, and how a young man had put himself in harm's way to save her. He'd born the brunt of the famous torture device, and the branding happened to him instead. That sun-shaped mark is Lan Zhan’s link between a man named Wei WuXian, and the legendary Yiling Laozu. Further proof that they are one and the same.

Every time Lan Zhan has been here, standing on this very spot, he has found new details to love about this picture. Today, it is the sparkle in Wei WuXian's fiery eyes, a fierce determination to do the right thing. A man willing to change his own destiny to chase a moral obligation. Someone ready to oppose the masses because they were wrong, and because of a need to stand up for justice.

“He's gorgeous, isn't he?” Meng Yao murmurs next to him.

It's an unwelcome interruption.

Lan Zhan steps back from the picture and turns away from it, forcing Meng Yao to follow him. Up ahead, Mo XuanYu and XiChen are waiting for them.

“Do you want to rest? Or would you like to visit the basement here? It's where we've stored certain items pertaining to the new archaeological site.” Meng Yao has a knowing leer in his expression. “The cauldron is here.”

And ordinarily, Lan Zhan would've gotten straight to work first. If there had been no loss of life here. If there were no other obligations to see to.

“I would like to extend my condolences to the parents of the children who died in the accident. If that can be arranged.” Lan Zhan uses the tone normally reserved for putting unruly students in their place during his teaching months, when he was exploring career options.

“Why?” Meng Yao stares at him as if another head has sprouted up next to his first one. “Can't that wait?” He sounds annoyed and impatient.

“It is because it's the right thing to do,” Lan Zhan continues. The fact that he has to explain himself is exactly the reason why he should go; judging by the disbelief he's witnessing, he doesn't think anyone has actually imparted those sentiments to the grieving family members.

“Of course, of course. It will take time to bring them all here, so in the meantime, if–”

“I would like to visit them at their homes. It is less of a disturbance to them, and respectful of the circumstances. If you could provide me with their addresses?” Lan Zhan glares at him.

“Now?” When it looks like Meng Yao is going to make further objections, XiChen steps forward.

“A-Yao, Uncle asked him to. But only if it doesn't delay your schedule, I'm sure he would understand,” XiChen smiles gently at him.

Lan Zhan is astonished to watch Meng Yao visibly melt at his expression. Perhaps XiChen possesses more power over the calculating go-between than he thinks.

“You'll be gone only for a couple of hours?” Meng Yao asks Lan Zhan. He nods, agreeing. “Then that shouldn't be too much trouble to work around. Take A-Yu with you.” Meng Yao types out a fast message and moments later his phone pings. It's followed by the buzz of Lan Zhan’s own phone, and when he checks the message, Meng Yao has sent him a list of the addresses, presumably where the teens lived.

For now, Lan Zhan doesn't protest Mo XuanYu accompanying him. Uncle Qiren has taught him a valuable lesson of picking one's battles, and Lan Zhan knows that if he goes along with Meng Yao now, it'll only help by making him less suspicious when he does get rid of the intern later.

Outside of the museum, the weather has shifted into a cold, grey and overcast day. They find a taxi and drive towards their first destination.

Chapter Text

The taxi pulls up outside a lovely little cottage with a basketball net secured over the white door of the garage. It's too early for anything of substance to grow yet, but in the front garden, small green shoots have broken through the surface of the cold hard ground to begin their search for the sun. It's strangely hopeful.

Lan Zhan walks along the crazy paved path to the blue door and presses the ringer. His head touches the hanging basket above him, no flowers trailing out of it yet he notices, as he steadies it from rocking side to side.

The door opens a crack and a small woman peeks out at him.

“Greetings, A-Yi.” Lan Zhan bows politely. “If it is possible, may we come inside and talk to you? It's about your child.”

If she was wary before, she's definitely scared now. “My husband isn't here,” she confesses, and attempts to close the door, but Mo XuanYu slides his foot in the way.

“A-Yi, we only want to talk. We work for the museum,” he explains with a friendly smile.

Something about Mo XuanYu's casual demeanor makes her pause. Lan Zhan wonders if the problem is with his own face; he's often been compared to a jade statue, with the same feelings to boot, so he understands her reluctance to talk to him. He's never been good at expressing himself, and it is with resignation that he passed through the years of education into adulthood. But he never thought that stoicism would continue to hinder his professional life.

The middle-aged woman seems to reconsider and opens her door wider allowing them access, and they follow her into her living room.

“Would you like some…tea?” She asks them, looking around the room. She seems distracted.

“Point me in the right direction and I'll go make some, A-Yi,” Mo XuanYu tells her, and she nods, taking him into the kitchen.

Lan Zhan looks around the room now that he's left to his own devices. The living room is simply furnished with a couch, where he's sitting, a loveseat to the right and an armchair. There's a small mounted television on the wall and a games console taking up half the space in the bookshelf underneath; next to it are more games and the controllers. Another larger bookshelf takes up the entire wall on the other side, and there's a coffee table in the centre of the room. One whole shelf is empty of books replaced by photo frames of the family. The pictures only feature three people, presumably the parents of the teenager who died and the young boy himself. They look like a happy family.

The woman shuffles in again, wiping her eyes.

“Your young man reminds me of my son.” She sighs gustily, sitting down to the right of Lan Zhan on the loveseat. “Tell me, why have you come here?”

“I only learned of your loss this morning and thought it prudent to come and see you first,” Lan Zhan explains. The truth has always served him well.

“That's more than anyone else did,” she huffs in annoyance.

“What do you mean?” Lan Zhan blurts out. “I thought Jin Guangshan, or his son, arranged for your son’s funeral and cremation.”

“Is that his name?” She asks wearily. “To be honest with you, I'm still having trouble believing my boy is gone. I keep waiting for him to come down the stairs all sleepy and stumbling, demanding breakfast. But he'll never do that again, will he?” She bursts into tears.

Lan Zhan searches for a tissue box and quickly hands it to her. He has never done well with people crying. He wonders why he's here, too. Is it fair to remind her of her grief like this?

“I'm sorry,” she sobs, “It's just that I, I really don't know what to do.”

There's an awkward silence punctuated by her sniffles as she tries to calm herself down. Thankfully, Mo XuanYu brings in three cups of tea on a plate with three koi fish painted on it, using it as a makeshift tray.

When she sees that, the woman unexpectedly laughs. She ruffles his hair and he ends up sitting next to her and holding her hand. Lan Zhan watches them, feeling unexpectedly grateful towards the boy. He's doing something that Lan Zhan could never do. It's not just the immediate connection between two people, but him giving her comfort in her time of need…when Lan Zhan abhors touch from strangers. He only tolerates the odd hug from XiChen now and then, but otherwise he prefers not to engage in physical contact with anyone. But Mo XuanYu is helping the woman without even trying, and it's an admirable gift.

“A-Yi, tell me about your son. Trust me, it'll help,” he promises her, eyes bright with understanding.

“What do you want to know?” She wipes under her eyes again, waiting for him to direct the conversation.

“Did he like to go out at night? Did he have a lot of friends? You can tell me what you liked best about him.” Mo XuanYu smiles encouragingly.

“That's the strangest thing,” she replies after a moment. “My boy stayed at home most of the time. He didn't even like fireworks, so why was he suddenly there letting them off? He liked to stay home and play on that contraption and sometimes, we'd bake together. My husband often jokes that I treated him as if he was a daughter instead of my son, but children can like different things. He loved cooking with me, and I saw no problem with that. He had a few friends in school and he played online with some of them, but that was it.” She shakes her head as if to clear it. “I just don't understand it. One day he's here and alive and the next day, policemen arrive and tell us he's dead, and he's never coming back. It just doesn't make sense.”

Mo XuanYu makes sympathetic noises and rubs her back to soothe her.

“We don't know who to call and ask for more information. No one seems to know anything, and then a smartly dressed young man comes to see us with a photo and tells us that my son has been cremated and this is the burial site.” She takes a deep breath and tries to smile. “So that's why I wasn't exactly welcoming when you knocked on my door.”

“What did he look like?” Lan Zhan asks her.

“He had the sweetest dimples and a pretty face. Unusual taste in clothes, though. Yellow suit, a bit like yours.” She wrinkled her nose at Mo XuanYu's clothes. “But there's no accounting for taste or fashion, right?”

Lan Zhan glances at Mo XuanYu to find him already staring back with a pensive expression. The woman has just described Meng Yao as the person to bring her news of the cremation and burial. Why was it such a rushed affair? Is Jin Guangshan trying to hide something?

Mo XuanYu hands the woman her tea and promises that it will make her feel better. Then he asks her if he can use the bathroom, and she easily tells him where it is. Mo XuanYu glances at Lan Zhan and when he catches his eyes, he winks before running up the stairs. Whatever he's doing up there, Lan Zhan feels the need to hide it from the woman, so he asks her to tell him more about her child. He's only half listening to her, though, these thoughts running through his head.

Mo XuanYu comes back a good twenty minutes later, and it's fine because the woman has launched into another charming tale about her son and doesn't call him out on it.

Too soon, they're making excuses and leaving.

Lan Zhan calls another taxi and then they're driving towards the next address. In the back of the car, Lan Zhan thanks Mo XuanYu, and he looks genuinely freaked out by it and the honest praise.

“You made her feel better and that is no small thing,” Lan Zhan finishes.

Mo XuanYu blushes, and smiles. “To be fair, when I went upstairs, I did a little snooping around.”

Okay, that's definitely weird.

“Why?” Lan Zhan asks him, flummoxed. “I thought you needed the bathroom.”

“Well, didn't you find it strange that she said her kid didn't even like fireworks? What the heck was he doing out after dark with them, then? I feel like we're being told one thing when reality is something else, you know?” Mo XuanYu leans back in his seat and looks outside at the passing town. “It doesn't add up.”

“Mn.” That's what Lan Zhan was thinking earlier. “What did you find in her house?”

“Nothing,” Mo XuanYu replies confidently. “And I think that reveals even more. See, I went up there thinking the kid led a double life, you know? I certainly did when I was a teenager, that's for sure.” He scoffs in amusement, shaking his head at himself. “So when I went into his room, I expected to find hidden booze, or a few rollies or joints, but there was nothing! I mean, judging from his spotless room, that kid was one of the few good ones. There was nothing to suggest he liked blowing things up, or staying out late. Nada, zilch. Nothing.”

Lan Zhan stares at him in admiration, well aware that this could be a trap to make him trust Mo XuanYu. But it was good work, nevertheless.

“Well done for thinking on your feet, too. And I agree, the situation with the children feels off.”

Mo XuanYu doesn't say anything for a while, chewing on his bottom lip thoughtfully. Then he blurts out, “Why did you want to talk to the parents? Be honest. I thought you were kidding, or at least that you weren't being truthful, but when we got there, that's exactly what you did. I'm not used to people being real with me.” He laughs quietly, shaking his head.

“It is forbidden to lie,” Lan Zhan tells him. He means it, and Mo XuanYu can tell because he bursts out laughing again.

“Wow, you're serious!” he says happily, as the car stops outside an apartment block. “I can tell, we're going to get along like a house on fire.” And with that, he leaps out of the car and waits for Lan Zhan to join him.

*****************

It's a similar story at all of the other four locations. The parents and in one situation, the grandparents, are still shocked and confused at the sudden deaths, all of them insistent that their kids would never do such a thing, and that they haven't been able to understand it. Mo XuanYu proves invaluable, making the adults feel comfortable talking to him. They tell him anecdotes about their children that they would never have confided in Lan Zhan with, and he invariably makes excuses to search for proof to the contrary by sneaking around the victims’ bedrooms, afterwards. He's so good at this that no one suspects a thing amiss.

Three hours go by like this, and at the end Lan Zhan realises that in return for sympathy and for bringing them closure, the people they've talked to have given them proof that something smells fishy about Meng Yao’s story.

Lan Zhan also privately wonders why Mo XuanYu is helping him this much. He doesn't dare to let his guard down at all, thinking that it's better to err on the side of caution and ask for forgiveness later, rather than giving in and trusting Mo XuanYu with vital information only to suffer betrayal in the end.

Their mission ends up taking the rest of the day, and just as they arrive back at the Yiling Museum, Mo XuanYu's phone goes off. It's Meng Yao and they arrange to meet up for dinner. Meng Yao sounds quite upset that they've taken so long, and to Lan Zhan’s surprise, Mo XuanYu behaves like a totally different person. He's deferential, only answering in affirmative and generally behaving like a lackey.

Lan Zhan is left wondering about the young man instead, and paying more attention to what isn't said instead. What if Mo XuanYu isn't happy working for the Jin Academy? Otherwise, what else could explain the Jekyll and Hyde persona? And why does it feel as if Mo XuanYu also doesn't trust Meng Yao? Have they got an ally in the young man?

As Lan Zhan gets out of the car to join XiChen, Meng Yao and Mo XuanYu, he wonders if time will tell.

Chapter Text

Meng Yao takes them to the nicest hotel in Yiling. Of course, it belongs to Jin Guangshan, and everything has already been paid for. They are shown to their rooms, all suites on one floor, big enough and with too many amenities to justify the expense. They're told to freshen up, and then they are escorted to a private room with a chef.

While their dinner is made fresh in front of them, Meng Yao disguises his interrogation of their afternoon activities under a pretense of veiled interest, and Mo XuanYu provides him with detailed answers that in no way are close to the truth but dance around it with spectacular aplomb. He goes into minute details, unimportant facts about the adults they met and how upset they all were, but says nothing about the side hustle: their amateur detective mission and what they uncovered.

Once their meal is served piping hot and ready to eat, Meng Yao dismisses the chef and encourages everyone to eat up. It's a five course vegetarian meal for XiChen and Lan Zhan, and a meat alternative for himself and Mo XuanYu. Only when the meal finishes, does it get interesting. 

“Tomorrow, we can have our first viewing of the discovered artefacts from the Demon Subduing Cave,” Meng Yao announces, wiping his mouth with a napkin like a true gentleman. “At this point, I just want you to get a feel for the scale of work and the timeline we're working with, so you can give us a rough outline of completion. It goes without saying that the sooner we get this done, the happier my father will be.”

“What's the rush?” XiChen asks him.

“Well, you know what old people are like, they have no patience.” Meng Yao laughs and it sounds utterly fake. Then he switches the subject, making Lan Zhan even more suspicious. “We need to work fast also to counteract the rumours.”

“Rumours?” Lan Zhan looks up immediately, his first thought being that Meng Yao is onto them.

“Well, it's not just because of the deaths related to the sinkhole and its contents. People are adding up two and two and getting anything but four. The attendance rate was dwindling anyway, for the museum, but now people are linking natural phenomenons with heralds of disaster, harbingers of doom, and all that.” Meng Yao takes a bite from his blueberry cheesecake. “It's only a matter of time before they start picking up their pitchforks and deciding to do something about it.”

“”A-Yao, is it really dangerous? What kind of phenomenon are we talking about here?” XiChen leans forward to better hear him.

“There has been an influx of crows, ill-favoured ravens even. Huge groups of them landing in the trees at night that surround the museum complex. People have reported blood-curdling screams in the middle of the night, disturbed sleep, general unrest and strange shadows at night, moving by themselves. Like, without a body to cast them. And you know that little old ladies will be the first to make the connection between these normal seasonal things and the fact that we've made a huge life-changing discovery in the Burial Mounds. They blame us. We've already had to hire a team of lawyers to disband the first picket protesters and you know that it won't take long before they find some loophole to twist and carry on with the harassment.” Meng Yao pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“That's why we have to maintain secrecy.” Mo XuanYu explains.

“Exactly. I hope A-Yu proved himself useful today, Professor Lan?” Meng Yao narrows his eyes at both of them.

“Indeed. I was not sure what to say to offer comfort, but Mo XuanYu has excellent people skills. Thank you for providing his help to me,” Lan Zhan offers.

Mo XuanYu throws him a shy, grateful smile.

The conversation slowly peters out and then XiChen stands up with a yawn.

“Oh, Er-Ge, please forgive me, I completely forgot about the Lan sleeping timetable,” Meng Yao cries, standing up also. “Let me escort all of you to your rooms.”

“Professor Lan, I think you dropped your card,” Mo XuanYu hands Lan Zhan a small rectangular business card.

“Thank you, it must have fallen out of my pocket,” Lan Zhan replies, putting it away quickly, playing along. 

They do not speak while walking behind Lan XiChen and Meng Yao, and everyone separates when they reach their assigned rooms. Lan Zhan closes the door behind himself and reads the card again, making sure he looks as if he's just hanging up his blazer on the back of the door. Earlier, he'd only caught one or two words when Mo XuanYu was passing it to him, but now he can see the whole message. He pretends to scroll through his phone but he takes a screenshot and sends it to XiChen. 

The card reads: Be careful. The rooms are bugged with cameras. Destroy this ASAP. 

Then he goes into the bathroom and carefully faces away from the door and flushes the card down the toilet after using it.

With Meng Yao breathing down their necks and keeping an eye on them, things will be doubly difficult. Lan Zhan is also annoyed because he can't fathom why Mo XuanYu is helping them. If he's on Meng Yao’s side, then why is he sabotaging the hand that feeds him? Shouldn't he be spying for the Jins and reporting back to them? Is he still doing that? Nothing about this makes sense, and the itchy feeling returns.

Lan Zhan shuts off the lights and changes in the dark, hoping the cameras, wherever they are, don't switch to infra-red. He slides into bed and reads XiChen's messages under the covers, and finds that his brother is equally horrified at the latest infringement of their privacy. They can't even complain about this because then Meng Yao will know they've been warned off, and Mo XuanYu will be in jeopardy of being found out. He could even be replaced by someone worse than him.

Lan Zhan goes to sleep troubled, and he knows it's going to be another long night.

****************

A bloodcurdling scream, high pitched and frightening, jerks Lan Zhan awake. It comes again before he's even fully conscious, and he's up and out of bed before his brain can catch up, opening the curtains and looking outside. He scans the gardens below and as his heartbeat slowly returns to normal, Lan Zhan sees a bushy rust-coloured tail disappearing into the undergrowth. 

Foxes.

The scream had sounded like a woman in distress, and now Lan Zhan is fully awake. He makes himself lie down again and he puts on some slow music, hoping it will relax him into falling asleep again. XiChen messages him and so does Mo XuanYu, and Lan Zhan tells them what the noise was and not to worry about it. He hopes they can rest better than he does, and he finally decides to read online rather than twisting and turning in bed.

When the pre-dawn lights up his room in a pale bluish glow, Lan Zhan decides to get up and shower, careful not to undress obviously. Then he sits down and meditates until breakfast time. But outside, the crows and ravens are making a racket. Each caw and cry as they communicate pierces the silence and only adds to his feelings of unrest, the jittery nerves boiling like acid in his stomach. He worries about what the day will bring.

***************

Meng Yao drives them back to the Yiling Museum after a quick meal. Everyone is excited and there's an underlying anticipation between them. Lan Zhan is still feeling off-kilter, as if he's ever so slightly tilted, unbalanced. That something is wrong but he just can't figure out what it is.

“What did you do yesterday afternoon?” Lan Zhan asks XiChen in the car.

“A-Yao showed me his record collection,” XiChen explains, with a blush darkening his ears.

That's a euphemism if ever Lan Zhan heard one, and he glares at his brother. They absolutely know for a fact that Meng Yao is not on their side, that he has a different agenda and that he's willing to compromise Lan Zhan’s safety to achieve his goals. He's only got his father's interests at heart and therefore, his own ascension in the Jin ranks at the forefront of his mind. So why on earth did XiChen think it was a good idea to sleep with him?

Lan Zhan is disgusted and refuses to look at either of them again. When they reach the museum, he's the first one out of the car.

Again, it's an overcast sky, dull and grey clouds heavy and low above them. There's a hint of petrichor in the air, a sign of an impending storm. Lan Zhan wonders if Yiling ever sees the sun, with its grim, dark buildings and grimey shopfronts. The air feels rank and weighty like a persistent fog unwilling to dissipate. There's something lost about this town as if it's somehow forgotten its identity and is caught in a time warp, forever searching for what it used to be. A sadness permeates the pores of it, growing like a cancer to weaken its foundations. The wind is cold, chilling him to his bones, and Lan Zhan usually runs hot so he's not used to feeling this way. He shivers, seeking refuge inside the museum as soon as he can. 

Meng Yao catches up to him and guides their small group towards the elevators. Once inside, he presses his thumb against a scanner and a panel slides open, revealing another set of floor buttons entirely. He picks B4. 

If that leads to Basement four, then Lan Zhan speculates on what could be stored on the other levels. Could the Jins have found more than what they're letting on? There is nothing compelling them to be upfront about that, and Lan Zhan can only hope that they let him examine and investigate as he wishes. He's itching to see the cauldron firsthand, goosebumps flooding the surface of his skin at the thought of it. He can't even begin to describe how it felt seeing the protected pictures of the ancient cooking vessel on Meng Yao’s phone, and now he's going to be given access to it. How exciting! To touch something rumoured to have belonged to the Yiling Laozu himself. To put his hands where the legendary hands of the war hero had touched. It's a surreal feeling.

The rumble of machinery grinds to a halt and then the doors slide open with an annoying screech that further exacerbates the disquiet in Lan Zhan’s mind. He glances at Meng Yao only to find him staring back as he walks past to lead the way.

“Follow me,” he commands, setting foot outside the lift.

As soon as his shoes touch the concrete ground, a runway of parallel lights illuminate the pathway ahead of them leading to a formidable set of double doors. They look thick and heavy, thrice the height of the Lan brothers and fortified with tarnished iron strips secured with blackened rivets and bolts. They look out of place here, Lan Zhan thinks, like they belong to safekeeping an ancient fortress or a keep. But the biggest question is, are they functioning to keep something contained, or to keep people out?

Meng Yao places his hand on what turns out to be another biometric scanner, and another keyboard slides out of the wall. This one is even stranger. Each key is blank. There's a set of earbuds hidden under another panel that Meng Yao has to unlock with a thumbprint and he pops them into his ears and closes his eyes, listening intently. Both of his hands hover over the mysteriously empty keys and then suddenly, he begins pressing a series of them in quick succession, almost as if–

“Musical passkey,” Lan Zhan says breathlessly, looking at Mo XuanYu for confirmation. 

Mo XuanYu nods once. He looks super tense, rocking on the balls of his feet, his attention fully on the shorter man in front of them. The whole thing is over in minutes and quick as a flash, Meng Yao has replaced the earbuds and closed the panel hiding the keyboard. 

A lock thunks into place and the huge doors slide open silently. 

The moment Meng Yao crosses over the raised threshold, all the lights come on. Lan Zhan had been expecting bright fluorescent tube lights, and the scientist in him is pleased that these are softer toned LED spotlights designed specifically not to cause heat or light damage to the contents of the room. The floor is lined with massive white marble tiles, enhancing the brightness of the area by reflecting the lights above.

There are empty solid-looking oak tables strategically placed in between locked glass cases. Each case contains a priceless item, from open scrolls to protected parchment papers and books. There are a few metal artefacts too; a compass that has strange markings, a bagua, and a map, even an incense burner that is half elephant and half turtle. Lan Zhan looks around quickly, absorbing and memorising everything he sees because they're not stopping.

Meng Yao leads them straight to the back of the room where another section is cordoned off by thick glass walls. Inside, there's a stone pedestal and on top of that is an obscure shape covered by a black sheet. It's roughly seventy centimeters in length and sixty centimeters in height. The same dimensions Lan Zhan was shown in Meng Yao’s phone, the day before yesterday. 

It's the mysterious cauldron. It has to be.

Now, all Meng Yao does is touch the glass with his right hand and the door swings open. At the same time, the entire surface of the glass wall goes foggy, hiding whatever is inside from the outside. 

Lan Zhan shivers. He suddenly feels cold all over when Meng Yao reaches for the black cloth and pulls it away. The hairs on the back of his neck and on his arms rise, his gaze fixed only upon the cauldron. It looks exactly like the picture, but somehow with a much heavier aura. Its presence is real, a tangible physical thing impossible to ignore. It's magnetic, pulling Lan Zhan towards it. He steps forward, feeling like he's lost control of his own body. His feet are yanked towards the vessel by themselves. There's a static noise in his ears and people might be shouting at him, but Lan Zhan’s mind is a blank, a dark space of emptiness full of nothing.

He watches his own hand rise up. But when he touches the lid of the cauldron, his body seizes, convulsing into spasms. Images fill his head, laughter bright and happy sings in his mind before morphing into sharp, piercing screams, and it's like a speed run through somebody else's life. Scenes slam through his mind one after another. It's a film running through a projector five times faster. He can't keep track of it. They crash into his mind again and again, and there's no relief until he's pulled backwards. Lan Zhan can't tell anything anymore. His head hits the floor, and then there is only a blessed darkness that finally surrounds him in silence.

Chapter Text

Lan Zhan is surrounded by rabbits. He's sitting in a green meadow with a vibrant blue sky above him.

Bunnies hop all around him, white fluffy mini clouds landing in his lap, doing binkies right next to him, and others zooming here and there. There's a beautiful black bunny in his lap, larger than the others when he squints, and he's in awe at how soft the luxurious dark fur feels under his fingertips.

“Lan Zhan,” a voice says, right next to his ear, but Lan Zhan's eyes close quickly and he doesn't want to open them just yet. This peacefulness feels temporary. If he does anything to jeopardise that, he's worried that it might not return. 

The voice giggles, and a finger pokes his cheek. “Lan Zhan - WAKE UP!”

It's the shout that does it, and Lan Zhan suddenly sits up, heart pounding faster than he can ever remember and a terrible headache behind his eyes. He can hear voices outside the door. It's Lan XiChen and Meng Yao. XiChen sounds livid.

“You promised me, A-Yao! You said you wouldn't let anything happen to him! That's my baby brother in there, and it's been three days! Goddammit, man! I trusted you!” A low murmur hums for a while and then XiChen says, “Uncle wants us to go back. As soon as possible.” 

Lan Zhan hears snippets of the conversation and pieces it together to make more sense. He looks around when his eyes have adjusted to the brightness of the room. It looks like he's in a hospital, and when he checks himself, he's embarrassed to see the hospital gown on himself. The draught at his back confirms it. It's a private room, moderately sized with just the bed he's lying on, a visiting chair and a tall cabinet next to him on one side. On the other side, he can see the IV drip bag hanging from a stand connected to him by a clear tube. The blinds are drawn so he can't see outside; only the daylight slides in through the gaps on the sides.

“A-YAO! YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS?!! I'M NOT HAVING THAT THING ANYWHERE NEAR MY BROTHER! YOU SAW WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM!?”

Lan Zhan concentrates hard and barely makes out Meng Yao saying, “My father believes he is capable of breaking the seal on the vessel. He survived, and that's more important than anything else! Er-Ge, please understand, it's a great honour to receive my father's consent! He's willing to entrust Lan WangJi with the vessel in order to spend valuable time studying it. My father is confident Professor Lan will make a breakthrough that will benefit all involved!”

“I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU! MENG YAO, IS THERE NO LIMIT TO WHAT YOU WOULD SACRIFICE IN ORDER TO GAIN YOUR FATHER'S APPROVAL?” And then more quietly, “Is that all you care about?” XiChen sounds heartbroken. 

“Er-Ge, you misunderstand my intention. There is absolutely no pressure on Professor Lan to investigate. I'm only suggesting that the cauldron leave Yiling with him so that people can stop speculating over it. The attention and superstition surrounding it will evaporate as soon as people see it neutralised.” Meng Yao is still talking, placating XiChen, when Lan Zhan misses most of it in favour of attempting to stand.

The world blurs, his vision swimming for a few moments as Lan Zhan clutches at the bed frame to steady himself. His legs are shaking. A few deep breaths and then he's ready to move. He doesn't remember what happened to him, and he doesn't try to make sense of the time frame either; all that's important is that he gets to say something right now. There will be time enough later, away from here when he can think about it safely. His bare feet drag on the floor as he shuffles forward, the cold tiles jarring and disorientating him, but Lan Zhan makes it to the door. He wrenches it open and two shocked faces whip around to face him, stunned into silence. 

“I want to go home,” he says, looking at XiChen. “The cauldron is coming with me.” It feels important to add that. His connection to it is undeniable, but whereas before the thread tying them felt tenuous, now it's more like a chain of lead binding them inextricably together. 

XiChen tries to protest but Meng Yao talks over him, barely hiding his glee. “I'll make the arrangements. Be ready in half an hour.” And he strides off to do just that.

Lan Zhan trembles then, allowing himself a moment of weakness now that the threat has gone. It's a movement not missed by the laser attention of XiChen on him, and he slides an arm around Lan Zhan’s waist to support him. All that bravado has left him and now Lan Zhan feels drained of what little energy he had left.

Wordlessly, XiChen guides him back to the bed and makes Lan Zhan lie down again, radiating disapproval in waves.

“Didi…are you sure?” He asks finally. His tone is imploring, begging him to reconsider. 

“Mn.” Lan Zhan closes his eyes with relief. “What happened to me?”

“You don't remember?” XiChen sounds worried.

“Only a little. I just want a clearer idea.” Lan Zhan’s tongue feels heavy in his mouth, and he hopes XiChen understands if he limits what he says. If Meng Yao is coming back in thirty minutes, Lan Zhan must be ready to travel. That will be the real challenge, to gather all of his courage and strength to actually move. 

“Meng Yao was talking about where they found the cauldron and knowing it was important just from the seal and the engravings. But then you pushed past him to hold the handle and had a seizure - we couldn't get you to let go and then you were falling. When you hit your head, you got a concussion. Does your head still hurt?”

The door bursts open before Lan Zhan can answer. It's the team of doctors and nurses who XiChen says have been looking after him during his stay. Lan Zhan finds it hard to believe that three days have passed, but he does his best to answer their probing questions. Meng Yao arrives and the doctor in charge voices his concern that he wants to keep Lan Zhan overnight just for observation. But since both Lan Zhan and Meng Yao disagree, he has no choice but to discharge him.

XiChen helps him get dressed from clothes that Meng Yao had brought for him, and Lan Zhan can't help the overflowing relief of soon being away from the watchful man and his cameras and his bugging devices. All he wants to do is lie down in his own bed, be surrounded by familiar things and then give himself the time needed to fully recover from this unusual episode. He does want to investigate the cauldron further, but on his own terms. In his own time, and by himself. 

The doctors force Lan Zhan to eat breakfast before he goes. XiChen hovers by his side when Meng Yao leads the way, and once more, they take the lift to the roof. When Lan Zhan sees Mo XuanYu already sitting inside the helicopter, that's when he realises why Meng Yao is so easily letting him leave: his spy is being sent to the Cloud Recesses with him.

********************

On the journey back, Lan Zhan tries to relax in spite of his headache that only grows worse. The sound of the helicopter blades is making it even more painful, but he'll take it if it means getting back to the Cloud Recesses faster. He closes his eyes and meditates, shutting out the rest of the world. Too soon, XiChen is shaking him awake, and then he flat out refuses to let Meng Yao off the helicopter. The pilot and Mo XuanYu transfer a wooden crate to a trolley and then XiChen, Mo XuanYu and Lan Zhan walk slowly back to the Jingshi. XiChen does not look back towards the helicopter. 

Lan Qiren is pacing anxiously outside when they reach Lan Zhan’s home.

“Uncle,” both the Lan brothers bow, Lan Zhan more shakily than his older brother. 

Lan Qiren narrows his gaze at Mo XuanYu, eyeing up the wooden crate with a frown, as if it's holding a nest of snakes. But he waits until all four go inside Lan Zhan’s house before speaking.

“WangJi, are you sure it's wise to bring THAT into your home?” Lan Qiren walks around the crate. His acknowledgement of the contents means XiChen must have told him all about it.

Mo XuanYu shuffles the trolley out from underneath it.

“Mo XuanYu, you may return the trolley to the main university building,” XiChen directs him. 

Mo XuanYu waits, staring at Lan Zhan. “Technically, I'm still working for him,” he replies.

“Truthfully, I will be resting today,” Lan Zhan tells everyone in the room. “I promise not to work until I'm feeling better. But Mo XuanYu, I would appreciate it if you familiarise yourself with the library. Ge, if you and Uncle could help him navigate our organising system, that will help.” 

“What do you need him to focus on?” XiChen asks, looking between them anxiously. 

“For now, a refresher course of the time period, the Sunshot Campaign and the aftermath, in case we missed anything.” Just the effort of speaking is making him feel worse, so Lan Zhan leaves them to it and retires to his bedroom, locking the door behind himself. The quietness suddenly descends and his shoulders untense. This is just what he needs; to be alone and not have to think. Here, he's surrounded by the familiarness of his own things, the scent of the sandalwood incense still lingering in the air. It's soothing, giving him comfort that has been conspicuously absent in recent days. He gets changed into sleepwear and then into his own bed. He closes his eyes to fully appreciate it and being back home.

His body fully relaxes when he hears the sound of his front door closing, and three deep breaths later, he falls into a deep sleep. 

*****************

This time when thoughts return to him, Lan Zhan is sure it's a dream. It feels familiar, like a memory in his past, but he can't recall ever being here in a place like this.

He's inside a white frozen cave, with ice structures, bone-white stalactites and stalagmites, like blunt teeth inside the mouth of a cold animal, hanging from the ceiling and rising up from the frozen, hard ground. His breath frosts outside his body and yet, he doesn't feel cold at all. He's standing in knee-deep water with crystallised ice chunks floating on the surface, and ahead of him, on a wide icy ledge, there's a white marble…or jade, guqin. Its aura is powerful, and he wants to approach it. Why is it here? Who would place an obviously priceless heirloom in such a harsh climate?

There's a tug on his wrist drawing him from his distracting thoughts, and he looks down to see a white ribbon tied around his hand connecting him to…another person. Their breath also steams in small puffs of warm clouds too, and then the other boy giggles.

“How strange, Lan Zhan! That this is where we end up after everything we've been through?” He sounds excited.

Lan Zhan recognises his voice. This is the person who called his name, back at the hospital, to wake him up. He takes a moment to stare back, to really look at him and memorise his features. He's beautiful. 

The second thing he notices is that this young man is familiar to him. The way he uses Lan Zhan’s birth name is also something else that is unusual…but it doesn't feel wrong. His silver eyes are the brightest, comparable only to his gorgeous smile that feels as if it reflects off every surface. Lan Zhan is overcome with emotion, and strangely, he wants to cry. Why is this happening to him? Why does it feel as if everything he ever wanted is right here? And then, why does it feel like it was lost to him?

The young man steps forward and touches his face. The hand that comes to cradle his cheek is full of affectionate tenderness, the golden skin a direct contrast to his own much paler complexion. Lan Zhan’s own hand rises to grip his wrist, not to tear it away but to hold it there, touching him.

“You still can't remember me, can you?” The beautiful boy laughs sadly, shaking his head. “It's alright, my love. There's still time. We can do it together, okay? Don't be afraid.”

Afraid? Of what?

Lan Zhan hears the beginning of a static noise, like an impending train hurtling towards the platform. It's a surge of white noise reaching a building crescendo, and the last thing he barely makes out is the echoing shout:

“I'll find you again, Sweetheart.”

Lan Zhan shoots up in bed and startles himself. He half expected there to be a splash, to be surrounded by the freezing water; the images in his head were so real, so wet, that he really shouldn't feel so dry. His heart is racing, fighting against the confines of his ribcage as he tries to regulate his breathing and calm himself down.

He always keeps a notebook next to his bed on the little mahogany cabinet, with a pen, in case he thinks of anything interesting about his work and needs to remember it. Now, he takes them both up and with shaking fingers, begins writing down everything about his dream. The lingering echoes of it, of how he felt with that man, all the details that made it seem unquestionably vital. Not even the smallest things are forgotten as Lan Zhan goes through his dream with a focused mind.

The strangest thing is, Lan Zhan never dreams. His sleep, when it used to be as regular as clockwork from nine in the evening to five in the morning, was the kind that felt like only minutes between falling unconscious and opening his eyes, ready to start the day. But his half-insomnia condition changed something in him, and now he couldn't say for sure if he had dreams and simply didn't remember them, or if they didn't exist at all. That's why the recollection of this one feels momentous. It feels as if Lan Zhan is supposed to remember this one.

He thinks back to the young man he saw in his dream, the breathtaking realness of him. How lovely he was. This isn't something his concussed brain thought of on a whim. It isn't a concoction of his own imagination. It feels so important, like the space between each breath, necessary and vital.

Lan Zhan has many questions, too. He writes down a list of bullet points in his meticulous writing, making each one as detailed as possible. 

Who is the beautiful man? What is his name?

What is their shared history? Why did he refer to “everything we've been through?”

What is their relationship?

Lan Zhan pauses, recalling the way the man had cradled his cheek, an intensity on his face that Lan Zhan was at a loss to identify. Even now, he shivers from the memory of it, of how it felt like the man knew Lan Zhan even better than he knew himself. How? And if he's so important, why has Lan Zhan forgotten him? How is that even possible? If anyone had become that close to Lan Zhan, close enough to call him his ‘Love’, to call him ‘Sweetheart’ as if it was normal, then how can Lan Zhan not remember him? He's totally stumped about this. Shaking his head as if to clear it, Lan Zhan continues with his list.

What is the significance of the white ribbon tying them together?

Lan Zhan closes his eyes and tries to remember it clearly in his head. The ribbon feels important, wrapped around his wrist intentionally, connecting him to the other man. It feels like something he had chosen to do. Or, did it belong to the other man? But no, Lan Zhan remembers the stark and vivid red ribbon holding up the other's hair, a thick, luxurious ponytail swinging at his back. By logic, the white ribbon must belong to himself. There had been a silver filigree piece, an emblem of clouds on it at the centre.

Lan Zhan quickly sketches it out. Perhaps this is another important detail. 

He remembers the man asking him about himself. “You still can't remember me, can you?” That's what he had asked.

That means Lan Zhan is correct to assume that he had known him, once upon a time. But then that begs the question: where is he now? And, where is that cold freezing cave?

Chapter Text

Lan Zhan spends the next two days resting as much as he can. XiChen brings him his meals and keeps an eye on him, but he's feeling much better by the third day. He makes a concentrated effort not to think about the sealed wooden crate in the other room, recognising that his mind is exhausted and needs to focus on other things in order to recover from the trauma it had experienced. Remaining detached from the situation also helps; thinking about the onslaught of images bombarding his mind just before he passed out as happening to someone else helps in a way he can't explain, but it's how he uses it to cope with all of it.

Remarkably, Lan Zhan doesn't dream.

It makes him wonder about it, questioning whether or not the boy was a creation of his own mind. But the resounding no is a definite answer. Also, the familiarity of his features reminds him of the portrait hanging in the Yiling Museum. There are certain similarities between the young boy in his dream when they were both in that cold cave, and the Yiling Laozu. It begs the question: are they related? Was the boy a younger brother?

When he feels ready, when the headache fully recedes, he decides to talk to XiChen first. They've been eating dinner together every evening, and tonight, XiChen brings him a vegetable stir fry with plain rice, and cupcakes for dessert. Once they finish eating, Lan Zhan folds his hands in his lap and begins.

“I will open the crate tomorrow,” he says.

“Are you feeling up to it?” XiChen asks him, after a moment. His eyes had widened with surprise, but calmness had returned to his features.

“I don't want to put it off any longer.” That's the truth. As Lan Zhan says it, he realises that another kind of stress has been building up inside him, like a countdown to the inevitable.

“But Didi, it's okay if you want to take another day, just to make sure. A-Yao won't mind.”

Lan Zhan looks up sharply at that. So his brother is back to calling Meng Yao so familiarly again. What is it about him that holds XiChen in such a thrall? Why is it so easy for XiChen to forget Meng Yao's open treachery, his willingness to sacrifice anyone and everything just to gain his father's approval, by XiChen's own accusation? Not to mention the cameras and bugging devices in their rooms. Lan Zhan hadn't bothered looking for proof himself, deeming the action too suspicious in case he WAS being observed, and he hadn't wanted Mo XuanYu to get in trouble for warning them. But now, he's reluctant to divulge any more of his plans to his brother, who is clearly a cracked vessel himself. There's no telling what XiChen will pass on to his on-again/off-again boyfriend, and Lan Zhan cannot trust Meng Yao at all. That means he now can't trust his brother.

“Maybe you're right,” he forces himself to say.

XiChen looks relieved and pleased about it, that he was able to change Lan Zhan’s mind. Lan Zhan opts for changing the subject in lieu of more untruths. He's never liked falsehoods, or the guilt that seems to plague him about lying, preferring to be honest and having an ease of conscience instead.

“Did you help Mo XuanYu? Researching the Sunshot Campaign?” He asks instead.

“Yes, actually. The young man is quite diligent when he gets his teeth stuck in,” XiChen huffs out a small laugh. “We made an interesting discovery together. Did you know, one of our ancestors of the time, shared your name? Not only was he called Lan Zhan birth name, courtesy name Lan WangJi, but he also named his guqin, WangJi? What a coincidence! We found out that, due to his extensive contributions to the war effort, he was given an honorary title of Hanguang-Jun. His older brother was also called Lan Huan, Lan XiChen, and his title was Zewu-Jun. I can't tell if he earned that before or after, though. But he was part of the Venerable Triad; two others joined him in an alliance meant to strengthen ties between two other main sects. The Nie and the Jin sects.” XiChen goes off on a different tangent and Lan Zhan tries to pay the correct amount of attention, but he loses the fight against yawning, having three in quick succession.

XiChen stops talking and laughs, standing up. He collects their dishes and bids him goodnight.

But sleep evades Lan Zhan as soon as his brother leaves. Lan Zhan does not ponder the merits of captivating conversations, or the lack of them, and he potters about the Jingshi, absentmindedly dusting already clean shelves. Something about what XiChen said is bothering him.

He can't figure out what it is and stops trying to, letting his mind wander freely.

He thinks back to a few days ago, when he visited the Yiling Museum again. He remembers the portrait of the Yiling Laozu, and how he felt as if he'd returned to his twelve-year old body, seeing it for the first time ever.

With a start, it's like a slap in the face.

The Yiling Laozu and the young man in his dream, they're the same. Exactly the same person, from the wide, expansive forehead hidden by a few wayward strands loosened from his ponytail, to his cute button nose and those vivid scarlet eyes…except that the boy from Lan Zhan’s dream had brilliant shimmering silver eyes instead. Lan Zhan doesn't understand why he hadn't made the connection before when it feels so obvious now!

Wei WuXian was an only child - there was no younger brother. He wants to go over his research one more time, just to be sure.

But if he's right, then what a startling difference there is between the young Wei WuXian and the man who became the Yiling Laozu!

Wei WuXian as a teenager looked young and if not completely care-free, certainly less stressed and anxious than when he had to assume responsibility for the Wen Remnants. To have the full support of a Sect at his back is one thing, for surely his obligations to them as Head Disciple still meant there were others who would stand in front of him against any threat, and while he was that age, his Sect Leader, Jiang Fengmian, and Madam Yu were still alive. But after the destruction of Lotus Pier, and then following their slow recovery, the expenditure of assets during the Sunshot Campaign and its aftermath, Wei WuXian defecting from the Sect would have made the young man grow up way faster than any of his peers. Going up against the Cultivation World at large and being seen as a major threat must have put such a strain on him...of course his changed features would reflect that.

No wonder that Lan Zhan had not recognised him immediately.

He hurries to his bookshelf and crouches on the floor in front of the bottom shelf. This one appears shallower than the others but only to someone with a careful, discerning eye. That's because the back panel is a false one; an accidental discovery when Lan Zhan had pushed too hard one time and found himself watching the entire bookcase become a door slowly swinging open. For some reason, Lan Zhan hadn't told anyone about it, and he's glad of the secrecy now, because he will have somewhere to work in full privacy.

Not only that, but he becomes aware of tiny changes now that he's actually looking.

Lan Zhan keeps his books meticulously organised, first by subject matter and then alphabetically by author. This is further complicated by his current interests, wanting to keep his favourite books within easy reach. But now, studying the titles in front of him, he can clearly see that they've been replaced in the wrong order.

Lan Zhan would never do that, so it can only mean one thing.

Someone has been in his bedroom. Someone has violated his privacy.

He's suddenly glad that he stopped himself from being too candid with XiChen, because he can only suspect one person of betraying his trust like this: Meng Yao.

It must be him. But when? And how?

He can't tell whether or not it was the man himself or if he got someone to do it for him. Meng Yao probably has a viable alibi, plus Lan Zhan can't give away himself by making useless accusations. But it's worth keeping this in mind. He can no longer trust anyone except for himself. Whatever he's going to do, it must be him all by himself, especially until he knows what he's working with.

There are too many unanswered questions at this early stage, and right now, the ball is in Lan Zhan’s court. As long as he keeps things quiet, he can maintain full control of whatever is going on.

Whoever had this hidden room installed under the Jingshi had taken their inspiration from the Forbidden section secreted away under the famous Lan library. This part of the Jingshi isn't even declared on the original blueprints of the building and Lan Zhan had spent time and money repairing the space, under the guise of his original renovations - even XiChen, his closest confidante and blood brother, doesn't know of its existence.

As Lan Zhan descends down the winding wooden staircase, he reevaluates the dimensions of the gap, eyeballing the measurements to figure out if he can move the wooden crate down here.

This private space has been used as a second storage for his extensive work. Everything he has ever published and all the research that lead to his fully formed theses are here. He's confident that whatever he needs to find out about Wei WuXian will be hidden in archival notes and recorded in handwritten files. Lan Zhan has always erred on the side of paranoia when it came to anything penned under his name - after the plagiarism fiasco involving another student by the name of Su Minshan, and Lan Zhan having to clear his name of any wrongdoing by proving his work was wholly his, he's foregone storing anything on his computer. He has flash drives full of his research as a backup, but nothing remains online where unscrupulous individuals can help themselves to it.

No doubt that's why his home was infiltrated.

But now Lan Zhan has another fear: what if whoever broke in planted listening and seeing devices?

He freezes. What if they've planted a camera in his bedroom? He's no fool; he knows cameras can be as small as a grain of sand; he remembers glancing at a then medical breakthrough article. Someone in America had designed a camera so small, it won the Guinness world record for its size. Originally supposed to be used for medical applications like endoscopy but anyone could buy anything and twist it to function under nefarious purposes. Especially if, like the Jins, they had enough money to sanction such endeavours.

Lan Zhan turns around and hurries back up the stairs.

He has to hope that if he's really being watched, and listened to, because it's the sort of behaviour he's come to expect from Meng Yao, then maybe they've got the cameras facing something of importance. There's no guarantees of that and it's a huge violation of his privacy. Lan Zhan can't rest properly until he eradicates the threat of it.

He returns to his bedroom and makes another list. This time, it's a shopping list featuring a couple of weeks worth of food and drink, mostly tinned goods to prevent the need to leave the Jingshi at all, and debugging/camera detecting devices. Everything is put on an express delivery option; even if Lan Zhan must pay extra for expediency, it's well worth the extra cost.

In the meantime, there are other measures he can take that won't prevent any treachery, but will pre-warn him.

When Lan Zhan was younger, he'd developed a fascination for spy movies that taught him lessons for his overimaginitive brain. Those lessons come in handy now as he brushes out his long hair. Once it is tangle free, he ties it up in a neat braid and extracts three strands which he tapes across the opening of his secret room. One is right at the top with the tapes hidden along the side of the bookshelf, two are lower down near the bottom. If anyone tampers with the bookshelf, he'll know because the hairs will break, alerting him without giving the game away to the culprit. He will do the same across his bedroom door and the main door of the Jingshi tomorrow before he leaves the premises.

In his head, there's a further mental list of things he needs to research that might only be found in the main Gusu library. This will achieve several things: if he's out and about, his family and more importantly, Meng Yao (via third party), will see that he's perfectly alright now. He will also be able to give Mo XuanYu such a heavy workload and the wrong impression of leading him on a wild goose chase to throw him off the scent of Lan Zhan’s real work, and keep him busy enough so that he can't interfere even if he wanted to. Thirdly, that's the last time Lan Zhan intends to leave his home and his sanctuary unprotected.

If anyone makes a move to break in, it's best that they do it now when he hasn't even begun actually working on anything significant yet. Plus, if Lan Zhan wants to find out about the white ribbon from his dream, then the best place to look is the Lan library. His gut is telling him that the archives will have something about it.

All of this planning tires him out again, and Lan Zhan hopes this won't be a regular occurrence. If he passes out every time he has to touch the cauldron, he and it are going to be stuck together inside the Jingshi for a very long time indeed.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Lan Zhan secures his bedroom and the door of the Jingshi when he leaves. His groceries are set to arrive a while later, and the gadget technology he's ordered is on a scheduled delivery for the afternoon. That will give him plenty of time to spread rumours that he's leaving on a necessary trip for research imperative to investigating the cauldron from Yiling.

This will stop interruptions while he's actually working in the secret room of the Jingshi but that cannot begin until he's made the place secure again. His heart hurts because he can't trust anyone, especially his brother who keeps making excuses for his boyfriend. Lan Zhan hates lying. It is not in his nature to deceive anyone, his moral compass rebelling every step he takes towards the main university building. 

It's another chilly day in the Cloud Recesses with heavy clouds rolling in from the surrounding mountains. As Lan Zhan pauses, looking up at the sky, a series of squawking draws his attention towards the cedar and maple trees, and he stops breathing in shock. The branches are covered in ravens and crows, hundreds of them all watching him back.

For a moment, Lan Zhan simply stares back. What are they doing here? Why have so many of them congregated in such a small space? Cloud Recesses usually have one or two of the magnificent black birds with their shiny dark beaks passing through now and then, but certainly never this magnitude of them. The sight of them makes him shiver, but while their numbers are frightening, he's surprised that he isn't scared of them. In fact, his heart warms the more he looks at them, and then he bows. They don't do anything, only watching him as he leaves to go on his way.

Meng Yao had mentioned them when speaking of the natural phenomenons occurring in Yiling, and Lan Zhan supposes this sighting, the aptly named murder of crows, could be an evil omen. In the past, crows were seen as harbingers of doom and a sign of bad tidings, but weren't those just old wives’ tales? Birds were birds and nothing else even if their presence was unusually large. But he adds a bigger quantity of bird feed to his order anyway. They have stomachs and a need to eat, same as him, and right now as guests of Cloud Recesses, he sees making sure they're comfortable as his duty.

Lan Zhan marches on towards the library ensconced inside the main building. He takes a deep breath, hoping he won't meet his uncle yet. The necessity of openly lying to either XiChen or his uncle is making his stomach hurt out of nerves. It's not just the fear of being bad at it which is troubling him enough, but the added guilt of having to do it in the first place. He feels like a little kid poking at his brother's chest and shouting that he started it, when he thinks about defending himself. Lies have a way of exposing themselves and Lan Zhan can only hope that when the time comes, his family will both be understanding about his reasons and equally forgiving about them. Lesser crimes have led to fracturing family units and he's not looking forward to the fallout.

Again, the warmth of the library welcomes his presence.

Lan Zhan releases the tension in his shoulders with the smell of old books and printing ink, aged leather bound tomes and bamboo scrolls. He sees XiChen and Mo XuanYu straight away, two black mops of hair, heads touching as they pore over a large book. XiChen murmurs something and then Mo XuanYu swivels in his chair to the laptop beside him and begins typing frantically as if he's scared he's going to forget what he wants to make notes of.

“Good morning,” Lan Zhan greets them both, mentally congratulating himself on his timing. This way, he will only have to lie once. Keep it simple, he reminds himself. But before he can add anything to his greeting, both XiChen and Mo XuanYu excitedly greet him back and then launch into telling him about their research.

XiChen pulls his notebook towards Lan Zhan and begins explaining. “Look, Didi! While the five great sects were supposed to be equal, the Wens were secretly and then openly swallowing up smaller surrounding sects and recruiting civilians to march in the upcoming front lines of the war. They might have been dressed in the Wen colours but honestly, I think Wen Ruohan was just making up the numbers for scare tactics!”

Lan Zhan hadn't thought of that, and he frowned.

“Exactly!” Mo XuanYu looks at his expression and grimly agrees. “Also, the arrival of the Yiling Laozu swung the victory in favour of the other four sects opposing the Wens, but as soon as they won, they changed sides and began viewing his methods as unorthodox, read: terrifying, and turned against him. Like, dude! So what if he caught thirty percent of the night hunting prey on Phoenix mountain? Shouldn't they have praised him for not even lifting a finger? Wait, that's not true, he lifted fingers to play, but I mean, he didn't actually have to use his sword, which is like, win-win. And then something happened in Lanling, which by the way, was straight afterwards because the Jins sponsored the Phoenix Mountain hunt and they held a conference too.”

“There's a brief record in our texts about that.” XiChen puts his reading glasses that are hanging around his neck on his nose, and picks up a discarded printout. “This is from the digital archives transcribed from the original documents. Back then, the Lan Clan kept carefully noted minutes from all meetings, and since this was the first such conference after the Sunshot Campaign, it was a big deal.” He quietly searches for the pertinent paragraph. 

Lan Zhan knows most of this, but his timeline is missing whatever XiChen is about to tell him. However, his instincts are screaming at him that Wei WuXian is the key to the mystery surrounding the Yiling Laozu and the cauldron sitting in the Jingshi, waiting for him. Also, if he can tie whatever they're going to tell him with his ulterior motives, it will make his lies all the more believable. 

“Wei WuXian stormed the LanlingJin conference in the middle of a banquet and demanded information pertaining to work camps where he insisted without proof that civilians were being kept. However, his claims were not taken seriously. He threatened to kill the person responsible for overseeing the work camps, one Jin ZiXun, a cousin to the heir and son of Jin Guangshan, Jin ZiXuan. This of course, caused outrage. Wei WuXian left after obtaining the whereabouts of two major players, a brother and sister by the name of Wen Qionglin and Wen Qing, who were the niece and nephew directly related to Wen Ruohan. Their innocence was questioned in the same banquet, and overruled because of their close relationship to the Wen Sect Leader. But when the criticism focused on Wei WuXian, and complaints made to his Sect Leader, one Jiang WanYin of the YunmengJiang sect, Lan WangJi of the GusuLan Clan refuted them, denying any wrongdoing by his friend.” XiChen skim reads some more and then continues. “Allegations were made to the Jiang Sect Leader, accusing him of not being able to control his subordinate and this made him lose face in front of the other sects.”

“Didn't he have a confrontation with Wei WuXian in or outside of the Burial Mounds?” Mo XuanYu quickly types something on his keyboard and begins reading aloud. “Here, it is. The Jin records show the Jiang Sect Leader stabbed Wei WuXian in his stomach, while Wei WuXian, by this time known by his new moniker, the Yiling Laozu, had only broken the Jiang Sect Leader's arm. Then it was announced that Wei WuXian had defected from the YunmengJiang Sect.”

“That was probably a ploy to protect the Jiang Sect.” Lan Zhan murmurs. But it is an abhorrent action to him. He thinks about the situation and puts himself in Wei WuXian's position. Had that been himself, he knows without a doubt that XiChen would have stood by his side, no questions asked. Together, they would have faced the world and been stronger for it. “Was Wei WuXian officially adopted by Jiang Fengmian and Madam Yu?”

“We don't know,” XiChen admits.

“Would there be records in Lotus Pier that could shed light on the situation?” Lan Zhan is very happy at where this conversation is going. 

“Possibly. Why?” XiChen stops reading and stares at him.

“I think it would benefit us if we did some extra research before attempting to discover the secrets of the cauldron. Given what you've both discovered about the role that LanlingJin played in Wei WuXian's character assassination, we could be overlooking some important documents pertaining to the events that led up to the Burial Mounds siege. But we also need a concrete establishment of Wei WuXian. If he was raised in what is now known as Wuhan, then I prefer to check their records before tackling anything to do with the Yiling Laozu.” It's easier than Lan Zhan thought. To lie convincingly. 

“Wait, so you want us to go on a road trip?” Mo XuanYu pumps the air enthusiastically. “Lanling then Yunmeng? Or Wuhan then Linyi?”

“Mn. Not together, though. We will cover more ground and be faster about it if we separate.”

“Good thinking, Didi. I'll go with you–”

“Actually, Xiongzhang, I need you here.” Never has Lan Zhan ever interrupted his brother before. His heart is pounding in his throat even as he forces the next words out of his mouth. “While Mo XuanYu goes to Linyi to find out about how the Jins affected Wei WuXian, and I visit Wuhan for the Jiang influence, I need you to gather as much information about how the Lan Clan interacted with him. If we can determine the mindset of an individual who went from being a hero to the most reviled man in the history of our country, I think that will better prepare us for whatever he has hidden inside his cauldron.” Lan Zhan actually feels faint and wonders if all the bullshit coming out of him has something to do with the lingering aftereffects of touching the cauldron a few days ago. He holds his breath waiting for his brother, who is straight up an intelligent individual, to call him out on his shitty excuses.

“Well, that's a well thought out plan,” XiChen says proudly.

What?

“Yeah, that totally makes sense,” Mo XuanYu nods along approvingly. “And also, while we're on the subject of the Jins and most notably, my half brother, I just want you both to know that they, meaning him and my shit-for-brains dad are counting on me spying for them. In case you guys are being polite about that.”

Lan Zhan hadn't been expecting that at all. In fact, it's so far across the realm of believable things that Mo XuanYu could say that he thinks he just imagined those words and that sentiment coming from him. But one look at XiChen's shocked expression confirms his ears are in perfect working order.

“Then, may I also take this opportunity to thank you for the warning about our rooms in Yiling being compromised?” XiChen bows slightly, smiling at Mo XuanYu. “How did you know? About the cameras and listening devices?”

“I get restless at night,” Mo XuanYu explains, blushing a little. “Walking helps, especially if no one's around. Unfortunately, well, fortunately for us I guess, that's exactly when certain people like to organise things. My sperm donor is only free from his recreational hobbies at specific times and yet is unfairly regimental about regular updates. The odd hours mean that he and my half brother aren't as careful as they should be about what they discuss.” Mo XuanYu smiles back at them, both shy and still managing to be earnest. “Look, I know neither of you have any reason to believe me, or trust me. But I never got a say in who my father was. That whole mess,” he waves a hand vaguely in the air, presumably in the direction of wherever Jin Guangshan is, “isn't my fault.”

“Of course,” XiChen agrees, goodnaturedly.

Lan Zhan will reserve judgement for now. But he hands over his phone towards Mo XuanYu. 

“Let's make a group chat where we can share our findings. It'll be faster than telling each other separately.”

XiChen follows him in doing the same, and then all three phones ping with an update. When Lan Zhan glances at his notification, he sees that Mo XuanYu has named the group: The Powerpuff Girls.

XiChen snorts.

“What?” Mo XuanYu spreads his palms out innocently. “It's the least suspicious name, in case any of us are caught where we shouldn't be. Admit it, it's clever! And dibs on Bubbles!”

“Buttercup,” Lan Zhan replies, walking away as if he didn't care. 

Mo XuanYu's disbelief is worth it.

“But that makes me Blossom!” XiChen half heartedly protests with a smirk.

“You too?” Lan Zhan hears them as he rounds the next shelf over. “My brother liked watching them on the cartoon network,” XiChen explains, his voice fading as Lan Zhan retreats further into the depths of the vast library floor. 

Up above him are further levels of floor to ceiling shelves stacked with information, resources and stories, a testament to their prestigious history as keepers of knowledge. He wonders where he will find any records of the white ribbon from his dream as he walks past a glass case of family heirlooms on display. In a place this big, where does he even start looking?

Then a word catches his eye and he comes back to the glass case.

There isn't an actual white ribbon, but there IS a drawing of one, right under a silver filigree piece, roughly two inches long by half an inch in width. It's beautiful, wrought with swirling patterns of clouds. He recognises the emblem as being the prime sigil used by the Lan Clan in ancient times. Furthermore, while disciples joining from outside the Lan family wore plain pieces tied by a white ribbon around their foreheads, the embellished ones specifically with the cloud motif was reserved for main family members only. Nowadays, the ancient tradition was kept alive by the inner family members being presented with a white ribbon bracelet on their twenty-first birthday. They weren't expected to wear them daily, and Lan Zhan’s own one was safely ensconced in his bedside cabinet.

In these modern times, the bracelet has become more symbolic only, not treated as seriously as it used to be regarded in the past. Back then, that white forehead ribbon meant something meaningful. Fragments of what Lan Zhan has retained in memory and from what he's read before come together with the words below the picture:

“The Lan forehead ribbon is a mark of restraint reminding the wearer that they must adhere to self-control and restraint on all levels while it is worn. It can be touched only by the wearer, their spouse or partner, children and their immediate family.”

Underneath that, it adds in a side note:

“The Lan Clan was unique in matters of marriage and choosing their life partners. While the traditional wedding bows were naturally observed, they also included a handfasting ritual that used the couple's headbands, which were tied around the wrists of their intended, joining them together. In many ways, this handfasting was more meaningful than even the formal tea ceremony.”

Chapter Text

Lan Zhan doesn't need to waste anymore time at the library, so he visits his uncle instead. It goes better than he expected, and Lan Zhan is able to successfully skirt around the truth when he talks about visiting Wuhan. He and XiChen have something of a tradition whenever they've travelled away from home. It's a temporary last hug and giving of blessings no matter who is leaving, and a silent wish for their safe return. It's kept the three of them closer throughout the years, ever since Lan Zhan’s parents passed away.

He swallows the bitter feeling of guilt as he leaves, but then he reasons with himself: what he's about to do is similar to going on a metaphorical journey, isn't it? He isn't setting foot outside his home or the Cloud Recesses, but he's going to attempt the opening of a formidable man's hiding place. A vessel made out of a durable metal, so it stands to reason that whatever is inside is as equally dangerous as the man who put it in there. And given the recent history regarding the others who have come into contact with the cauldron, it might be the last thing he ever does. Lan Zhan is aware of the dangers involved but he's still willing to go ahead and try.

He's equal parts anxious and excited to do it.

Luckily, his phone chimes with a notification just as he reaches the Jingshi: his tech delivery is early and they've posted it through the letterbox. Lan Zhan rips it open and sweeps through his home with a meticulous eye that any crime fighting detective would be proud of. By now, Mo XuanYu will have passed on carefully curated information to his higher-ups, agreed upon after running it by XiChen, of Lan Zhan’s upcoming trip. Therefore, he hopes whoever is watching his home will not deem it necessary to replace the seven cameras and twenty listening bugs Lan Zhan finds and takes extreme satisfaction in flushing down the toilet.

He's told everyone that he will be leaving early tomorrow morning, hence the reason for saying goodbye now; that's only a partial lie because he intends to begin examining the cauldron first thing in the morning. Once his groceries arrive, Lan Zhan is going to cook enough meals for the time he thinks needed to investigate the artefact in private, a period of at least ten days. His freezer is going to be full to bursting by tonight. His plan makes sense because he's going to make sure he spends the minimum amount of time outside of the secret room. He doesn't want to get caught in the lie he has spread, jeopardising his own investigation, by moving around in the Jingshi and being caught in the lie out of carelessness on his own behalf. Also, it will minimise the time taken to cook and clean up after each meal. He can microwave his food and wash up in a matter of minutes compared to at least an hour of cooking from scratch.

By nine o'clock in the evening, Lan Zhan has drawn the curtains in every room and makes all the necessary preparations to make it look like the Jingshi is empty from the outside. This is the last night he will spend in his own bed, in his own bedroom, and his eyes close easily within the familiar setting.

The silver emblem of the Lan Clan comes to mind and he thinks about the white Lan forehead silk ribbon, and what it stands for. Such an important symbol of the Clan, especially if those who were members of the inner family had their own, more elaborate versions. It's that thought which makes Lan Zhan certain that the Lan WangJi of that time knew exactly what he was doing when he tied his headband around Wei Ying’s wrist, if indeed such a thing had really happened. That was definitely a marriage, whichever way he looks at it. It is impossible to mistake such an action.

The real question is, did Wei Ying understand the consequences or implications of being handfasted together? And will Lan Zhan get a chance to ask him?

***************

It's still night time when he becomes conscious, but something about the haziness surrounding him makes him think that he's still dreaming. He lifts a hand to the drawn curtains, easing a corner away from the window to mask his action, discreetly allowing himself to look outside. The stars circle the moon, wide and bright and magical, the only lights in the dark, midnight sky. He feels a presence next to him, and when Lan Zhan looks over, there's a dim outline of the same young man he had met previously, in the cold cave.

“Hello, again!” He smiles brightly, his cheerfulness a warmth that Lan Zhan wants to bask in.

“What's your name?” Lan Zhan blurts out, and then he wishes he hadn't because there's such a sorrowful expression on the young man's face.

“Still can't remember me, huh?” He scoots closer and there's the sound of tiles moving beneath them.

That's when Lan Zhan looks around. They're sitting on top of a curved, slanted roof and they're all alone. Nothing else is clear so Lan Zhan returns his attention to his companion. 

“I hoped it would be easier for both of us, but I guess not.” The young man thrusts out his hand, knocking their shoulders together lightly. “No matter, we can start again, and it'll be more fun! I'm Wei WuXian, but you've always called me Wei Ying…except for that one time.” His face is full of regret but it clears away pretty quickly before Lan Zhan can guess at what else there might have been.

“Hello, Wei Ying. My name is Lan WangJi. But you called me Lan Zhan last time,” he remembers. 

Nobody else uses his milk name, not even Uncle Qiren or his Xiongzhang. Lan Zhan takes his hand and they shake, but even afterwards, he doesn't let go of Wei Ying. This boy called him other names last time, too. Lan Zhan wants to know why. He wonders if he can let go of the burning embarrassment enough to ask him about those pet names. Nobody has ever called Lan Zhan ‘Sweetheart' or ‘My Love’ before. His skin is cool to the touch, the weight of it nestled in his palm barely noticeable. 

“That's right! I don't know why, but it feels okay, doesn't it? That's what you told me to call you, the second time we met.” Wei Ying smiles shyly back at him. “That's always been the name you've given to me to address you. Perhaps even back then, maybe we already knew that we would be close to each other.” He looks pleased by this. Enthusiastic, even.

Close to Wei WuXian? The thought is such a shock to Lan Zhan! And calling him by that name just feels wrong, like the taste of gone-off food in his mouth, the whiff of it making him want to spit it back out. Wei Ying…that's the name that curls around his tongue and sits upon it more comfortably, as if it's always lived in his mouth. As easy and familiar as breathing.

“Isn't this our second meeting?” Lan Zhan asks him, with his free hand rubbing his brow anxiously. Even as he asks that question, he knows it to be incorrect. But surely, he would remember if he had met such a beautiful young man before? And he knows that it was Wei WuXian who became the fearsome Yiling Laozu. That's a firm fact in his mind, those two names bound by iron chains to forever become joined together. But Wei Ying? Wei Ying is another facet in the many sides to this man.

He's a sweet guy, that much is apparent. His lovely silver eyes that remind Lan Zhan of a cluster of brilliant shining stars reflect the moon above them, his easy warm smile chasing away the chill of the cold night. It feels right to share these soft, peaceful moments with him, sitting on uncomfortably hard clay tiles and just existing together. It feels as if the more time Lan Zhan stays here, the more real Wei Ying becomes. Already, the pale outline of a person the same age as Lan Zhan has morphed into a clearer, visible man. 

His inner robes are as scarlet as spider lilies and give him an added warmth, making his golden skin glow under the coolness of the moonlight. His dark outer robes are a shadowy inky black, merging with the silhouette of the night. His red ribbon waves from side to side with his ponytail, his bangs wild and carefree when he answers Lan Zhan’s question by shaking his head.

“Lan Zhan, I think we must have worked together far too well, if you don't remember me at all. But then, that was kind of the point, wasn't it? You were supposed to forget me, and that should have been the end of it. But if I'm back, then there must be a reason for it. And because I've somehow found you again, that means we have unfinished business to deal with. To be honest, my memory is also a bit muddled. I remember some things, but it's like trying to catch water in my hands and watching it slip away through my fingers.” Wei Ying slots their fingers in between each other, clasping their already joined hands together. “Nevermind, though! We can learn together! Again!” He smiles, encouraging this time. “Tell me, what do you remember about me? Anything at all?”

“I can't tell if it's something I've read about you or something I know from trying to imagine it,” Lan Zhan tells him honestly. “Our history books may not be as accurate as we would like them to be.”

“Hmm, that makes sense,” Wei Ying taps his nose thrice in a hugely endearing movement. “History books? So that must mean you are far into my future, or the past that we both shared. What year is it?”

“2025.”

“Reign of?”

“Er…I'm not sure how to answer that,” Lan Zhan admits. “The empirical system was abolished more than a hundred years ago. We have a government that unites the whole of our Motherland now.”

Wei Ying’s mouth drops open in shock. 

He's so cute, Lan Zhan thinks, before catching himself about it. He's also very much not real. Not even apart from this environment, a situation that Lan Zhan fears is created by his own mind due to the too close proximity to the subject matter. Either that or else he's slowly going mad - the insane version as opposed to the angry one. What else can explain why Lan Zhan has begun dreaming of the Yiling Laozu, or the man linked to be that legendary historical figure? It must be because that's all Lan Zhan thinks about in his waking hours and now, in his sleep, too, apparently. Living, breathing, eating, all Lan Zhan can do is obsess about the man and his life, and wonder how it unfolded. Why it ended so tragically. 

This Wei Ying, even if he has been conjured up by Lan Zhan’s overactive imagination, recovers quickly. 

“Why don't you start by telling me what you know so far? And I'll be able to tell you if it really happened or not. Hopefully.” Wei Ying looks around and frowns suddenly. “Oh. I think we're out of time.”

Lan Zhan blinks and just like that, he's back in the Jingshi lying down in his bed. He blinks a few times, trying to get to grips with the sudden change in scenery. He feels dazed and tired, as if he's spent the whole night working instead of resting. Though, it's amazing that he managed to stay asleep that long for all the good that it did.

His bedroom is awash in a pale blue dimness, a sure sign of the approaching dawn. He has a long day ahead of him today. Leaving the curtains drawn, Lan Zhan goes through his daily yoga routine and slips into a meditation that does little to calm his mind. After a quick shower, he eats cereal just to use up the milk he's bought until he runs out and has to eat the frozen congee he's prepared in advance. 

He doesn't forget about the ravens and the crows outside, the ones who seem to be roosting in many trees now. He'd spotted more on the way back from the library and was now torn between filling the bird feeders he had bought specially, or just tossing the food out and letting them deal with it themselves. He chooses the latter for the sake of speediness. It's still too dark to see what they think about his gesture but he hopes they look upon it favourably. Thankfully, it's also too early in the day for anyone to be around, to spot him doing this. He's safe in that he's already told people that he's leaving this morning, but after today, he must be more careful about going outside. 

The swooping quiet wings and burgeoning cawing makes him smile as he returns to his bedroom.

Confident that he is totally alone now with no one surveilling him, Lan Zhan opens the secret room again and checks out the changes he made yesterday. 

He's pushed all the furniture, the extra bookcases and the trunks holding his research to the sides to make space for the wooden crate housing the cauldron in the centre. On one side, there's a low table with an alarm clock and writing equipment ready for him to make notes on whatever his findings are. Next to that is the rolled up sleeping bag where he intends to rest when he gets tired. His sleeping schedule has gone to shit, so obviously that's the first thing to be abandoned in favour of working. He's still going to go about this in a healthy manner though, not overlooking anything his body needs but doing it at his own pace. Also, he thinks this unpredictable routine, or lack of one, might jump-start his usual time of rest of five to nine o'clock timetable once more.

Yesterday, when he told his family and Mo XuanYu about wanting to refresh his mind about Wei WuXian, he hadn't been lying. So today, he's going to run through the basic details. He wants to be ready to answer the imaginary Wei Ying’s question: how much does he know about the life and times of Wei WuXian, otherwise known as the Yiling Laozu? 

Chapter Text

The earliest records of Wei WuXian, Wei Ying, are registering his birth in Yiling under a census ordered by the then magistrate of the town. His parents were called Wei Changze and his mother's name was interestingly, a title: Cangse Sanren, the Wanderer. Not much is known about them except that Wei Changze had been a sort of elevated servant to Jiang Fengmian of the YunmengJiang sect. The circumstances of why Wei Changze left a paid job in favour of marriage and travelling have never come to light, and Lan Zhan prefers not to speculate without proof. But he imagines life to have been tough going from place to place without a solid base to come back to; not only did it mean the absence of a regular income but the strength in numbers to aid with nighthunting.

Add a kid into the mix and that's a recipe for disaster.

Lan Zhan is familiar with the ancient practices of Cultivation, how it was used to rid the world of ghosts and fierce corpses, how resentment energy flowed through the world of that time and how people coped with the monsters they had to face. Since both Wei Changze and Cangse Sanren were both cultivators, it stands to reason that their livelihood was based upon their skills. But the question that springs to his mind is, how did the parents arrange bringing up their child and earning a living?

Their occupation was dangerous and there was no guarantee that they would survive every encounter. So did that mean they took it in turns to go nighthunting? Or did they find someone to look after their son while they were away? Lan Zhan cannot imagine that they would put the child in danger by bringing him along to kill off yao and gui.

From scraping together records of neighbouring towns and villages, Lan Zhan established a rough pattern of the family's travels, though they spent more time in Yiling than anywhere else. He can trace all the way until Wei Ying is about five years old.

Then there's a huge gap of four years and suddenly, the boy turns up in Lotus Pier, Yunmeng, after the Sect Leader, Jiang Fengmian found him and brought him back from Yiling. There's a brief annotation in an old history book that Lan Zhan has cited for reference, and he remembers it because at the time, he wondered what exactly happened during the missing four years? Where were Wei Ying’s parents? If they had died, then how? And more importantly, exactly when had they passed away? How had Wei Ying passed such a long period of time? If he had spent it on the streets or if a kind soul had taken him in…Lan Zhan might never know. He's kept an eye out for any information pertaining to the Wei family, but it's this particular pocket of time that consistently worries him.

His heart goes out to the little boy, imagining his round cheeks and lovely innocent silver eyes. Wei Ying must have been quite the little heartbreaker back then, too, judging from how handsome and beautiful he is as an adult. An imaginary adult, Lan Zhan harshly reminds himself. But this is what stops him in his tracks.

If he is to go on with a sincere heart, he has to make a choice:

Does he believe that the person in his head, Wei Ying, is a figment of his imagination? Brought about by the intense research Lan Zhan has conducted for a period spanning more than half of his life? Or can he dare to believe that his own subconscious is removed from recreating the historical figure? Is that really Wei Ying? And if it is, then frankly, how is that possible? Wei Ying died hundreds of years ago. Lan Zhan is fully aware of the character-bleed aspect of his investigation, how his empathy towards a misunderstood infamous person can affect his mindset and make him see things that aren't there. But really, how bad can it be? Is it such a crime to want to do it, to suspend disbelief for a short while and pretend that it really is the Yiling Laozu who visits him in his dreams? If he chooses this option, then it requires the highest leap of faith that he's not going insane.

Perhaps for the next ten days, this is exactly what Lan Zhan needs to do.

Without outside interference, and nobody to comment on his state of mind, this concentrated effort into understanding one of the most enigmatic and legendary figures in history might lead to a breakthrough of unimaginable proportions. He must decide one way or another and stick to it, because dithering between the two possibilities is draining his enthusiasm and is truthfully counterproductive.

He opens one of the trunks containing his research and finds his summary book on top. After thirteen years of intense research, checking and rechecking sources and determining facts from rumours and myths and baseless legend, there is too much information to sort through, and predicting this problem in the earliest stages of his work, Lan Zhan had made a timeline of events for Wei Ying's life and achievements. It gives him a more rounded view of the person as a whole and not just his infamous Yiling Laozu persona. He grabs that book now and places it on the little table next to the sleeping bag he's arranged for the next fortnight or so.

He settles down in his most comfortable cross-legged position and opens the book. Right at the beginning, resting on the first page is the picture postcard of the Yiling Laozu. Lan Zhan bought it as a souvenir from the museum shop thirteen years ago on that fateful school trip. How apt that he should start with the painting that began his fascination with the mysterious figurehead?

Now that Lan Zhan knows what to look for, there's little difference between the man of his dreams (literally), and the portrait of the Yiling Laozu, except for his eyes.

It's not just the colour of them, though that's startling by itself. In the portrait, the Yiling Laozu's eyes are a burning mass of seething red, as scarlet as the blood he spilled during the Sunshot Campaign. They're hard with resignation and anger, and yet…Lan Zhan gets the feeling that this man has paid the ultimate price because behind all that fury lurks a bottomless sorrow. An unimaginable pain which must be the result of whatever he's had to endure to get to this stage.

He isn't even sure why, because none of the history books have any sympathy for him. There's no explanation for why any of this happened, how the man called Wei WuXian, left a comfortable well-paying (if not at the beginning then certainly later) Head Disciple job, when the Jiang Sect came back from nearly dying out. Jiang WanYin, the heir to Jiang Fengmian had resumed the mantle of running a Cultivation Sect that rivalled their competitors, like a phoenix out of the ashes. Wei Ying left a prestigious position in a major, if regrowing, sect in favour of retreating from the Cultivation World at large to go and live in the Burial Mounds with a handful of reviled Wens.

Why would he do that?

Does the key to this particular mystery lie with the Wens themselves?

If the Wen Sect was responsible for starting the war that killed thousands of people, cultivators and civilians alike, then obviously anyone bearing their name would be hated. Out of those who held the Wens responsible, surely Wei WuXian would be one of them, because of their annihilation of his home, Lotus Pier. So then, why had he chosen to rescue these particular Wen people? Could it be that somehow, they were innocent? Why is nothing much known about them? This is a returning question that has plagued Lan Zhan often. He scoured every text he could find, ancient records kept by the victors of the Sunshot Campaign in the hopes of finding a clue as to their importance. But beyond a few scattered characters here and there mentioning a split off branch of healers from Dafan, Lan Zhan hasn't found out anything more.

The Wei Ying of his dreams is such a warm person. He's friendly and mischievous in comparison to the person he became later on, and the change is as stark as the difference between black and white. Where the Yiling Laozu was all about Death and Destruction, his alter ego is full of life and living without regrets. To seek fun and to enjoy his existence.

How can Lan Zhan reconcile this massive change in temperament and push all of these opposing qualities into the one personality of Wei Ying?

A person is neither inherently good or bad - to view anyone with this kind of yardstick is simply childish naivety. Like an unpolished diamond, human beings are multifaceted and that's what makes them unique. No two people are the same, not even twins born from the same womb. Factor in all the different situations in a person's life, the joys and pains that shape their minds and you have a constantly changing personality born from their unique experiences. The unpolished diamond when held up to the light can cast deep shadows, or become a prism of technicolour; it all depends on a number of factors.

He puts the postcard aside reluctantly and turns his attention to his notes.

Wei Ying’s next eight to ten years based in Lotus Pier are why Lan Zhan is supposed to be travelling to Wuhan for. The truth is, he has no reason to go - he did all the research possible many years ago, in spread out trips spanning a few weeks at a time. But XiChen, his uncle, Mo XuanYu or Meng Yao, none of them need to know that.

This reminds him that he needs to cover his tracks and he reaches for his phone. There aren't many contacts in its memory because Lan Zhan is a private person and his list of friends outside his family is based on trust. In lieu of that, he knows he can totally rely upon the one he calls now.

“Luo QingYang. Good morning.”

“Fuck, it's morning already? How?” She groans into the receiver. “Wait, Lan WangJi? Hello, stranger.”

“Mn.”

“Talkative as ever. What can I do for you? I'm assuming there IS something you want, since you would never call me otherwise.” She laughs on the other side.

“I apologise for being an inadequate friend. How is life treating you?” Lan Zhan only asks because now he feels bad. Luo QingYang isn't wrong; Lan Zhan has phoned her because he does want something, and he recognises how transactional their friendship has become.

“Like I ran over its dog,” Luo QingYang retorts with a sniff. “I stole that from a rerun of Cheers, by the way.”

“It is funny,” Lan Zhan assures her.

“Yeah, I can hear you laughing from all the way here.” There's the sound of sheets rustling. “Okay, I promise you I'm awake enough now. What do you need?”

“Code Red.”

“Fuck! Seriously?”

“Mn. I need you to pretend I'm there. You are in Wuhan, correct?”

“Last time I checked, yeah.” She yawns into the speaker. “God, I would kill for a coffee right now.”

Lan Zhan flips his laptop open and orders it for her, requesting it to be delivered to her saved address. Luo QingYang is a creature of habit and loyalty; if she's comfortable and appreciated in her place of employment where she is at the moment, then it would take a huge incident to get her to leave. He also deposits a small fortune into her account as a thank you for what he's about to ask her to do for him.

“Code Red means it's serious. Why have I got to convince your uncle and anyone else that might be interested, that you're here? What kind of trouble have you got yourself into now?”

None that he can talk about, Lan Zhan thinks, opting for skimming the truth instead. “You remember when my Uncle thought I was out partying and he wanted to make sure I wasn't doing anything dangerous?”

“Yeah,” she laughs heartily. “That was so surreal! There he was thinking you were a social butterfly, out all hours and having a good time, when really, you were having a dance off with the past, stuck in the library with your research. Honestly, any other parent would've been proud!”

“Mn. I need the same protocol.” He doesn't say who for and it's not his fault if Luo QingYang assumes it's just for his family.

If Meng Yao can have enough face, and clout, to plant Lan Zhan’s home with bugging devices and cameras to watch his every move, then Lan Zhan can't put it past him not to keep tabs on himself no matter where he is, for the foreseeable future.

“Right, so we're roommates again? Double coffee and tea, double meals etc.?”

Lan Zhan can hear a pencil scratching away on paper. She must be taking notes.

“Mn. If anyone calls asking to speak to me, then–”

“You're taking a nap, bathroom break, projectile vomiting, got it,” she snickers.

“Thank you, Luo QingYang. I appreciate it,” Lan Zhan tells her sincerely, ignoring her last excuse.

“WangJi, no need for thanks. If anything, I still owe you for breaking Wen Chao's face, fucking scumbag.”

“Anyone would have done the same,” he protests, thinking about that day. If he hadn't returned early and caught the miscreant trying to overpower his roommate, things could have turned out much worse than they did.

“Oh, please! You know that's not true. But WangJi, tell me the truth. You're not in over your head, are you? Should I be worried?”

“Nothing of concern. I just don't want anyone to know that I'm home,” he reassures her. There, that's not a lie! Lan Zhan is immensely proud of himself for that circuitous explanation.

“Ah, I get that,” Luo QingYang is immediately sympathetic. “There's nothing worse than parental figures keeping track of you. Though having said that, I had to install a GPS tracking app for my parents. They're getting forgetful in their old age, and I honestly thought it would be the other way around! Them keeping tabs on me!”

They chat for a few minutes and when Lan Zhan says goodbye, he's happily assuaging any warranted guilt. He's known Luo QingYang long enough to know that they're okay and neither expects more than this from their friendship. Now he's covered his bases in case anyone tries looking for him in Wuhan. Luo QingYang works as an art expert in what used to be known as Yunmeng, where the Jiang Sect was based hundreds of years ago. Lan Zhan has already been there and absorbed every detail he could find on the well known Wei WuXian.

From age nine until Wei Ying was fifteen, he spent those six years cultivating his golden core and rising in the ranks of the students to become the Head Disciple of the Jiang Sect, by the time he was age thirteen. In all the official records he's come across, nowhere does it state that Wei Ying was adopted by the main Clan. Jiang Fengmian already had a legitimate heir. Throughout his research, Lan Zhan can tell that the Jiang Sect kept Wei Ying close without all the benefits given to someone related to the main core of the family. He would still be seen as the son of a previous servant and therefore, outside of the sect, he would be afforded none of the respect or benefits that would naturally be given to the heir or anyone connected to the main family, despite his outshining career. The position of Head Disciple was traditionally given to someone with strong capabilities and who could also pass on their skills to the next generations of disciples, thus ensuring the progress of the Sect. In short, and by being elected to that position at such a young age meant that Wei Ying was more than qualified for the job.

Although night hunting was conducted in the nearby regions, there was no significant travelling until he was fifteen, when Wei Ying was allowed to visit the Cloud Recesses for the guest lectures with Jiang WanYin. Lan Qiren, also a person sharing the same coincidental name as the current one, was a cultivator who ensured that anyone he taught became refined gentlemen who excelled in all the six arts: archery, horse riding, calligraphy, music, rites and numeracy.

Official records are vague about this time period. The Lan archives list disciples who were punished, and Wei WuXian's name comes up frequently. But only up until three months, and it's because of Lan Zhan’s ability to bring facts from other Sect archives and piece together a coherent list of occurrences that he discovers something had happened. Both Jiang Fengmian and Jin Guangshan (another coincidental recurring name) were called to the Cloud Recesses. The annotation next to the record of their visit pertains to a fight happening between the Jiang Head Disciple and the heir of the Jin Sect, Jin ZiXuan. However, why was only Wei Ying sent home in disgrace?

Was it a physical altercation? And if so, what was the reason for it?

Chapter Text

Again, Lan Zhan is angry about the blatant favouritism towards people of so-called high birth. Back then, all the sects were guilty of classism, of elevating close family members and awarding them far more respect than they deserved, irrespective of their capabilities. If Jin ZiXuan and Wei Ying were both caught fighting, why wasn't the Jin heir also sent home? Why didn't the Jiang Sect Leader insist on equal treatment? That question raises the goosebumps on Lan Zhan’s arms.

He hadn't been able to find any proof that Jin ZiXuan was punished beyond kneeling for fighting in the Cloud Recesses. 

If this could be counted as a major incident and of course it was, (because hello, sect heir??), and yet Wei Ying had no one to speak on his behalf, was this the only occasion for it to happen? Or was it the norm for him? 

There are no notes pertaining to this, or what happened afterwards. 

Lan Zhan has been able to collect different testimonials ranging all across the sects mentioning The Violet Spider, a title given to Madam Yu, the Jiang Furen, (Hardly giving fluffy, motherly vibes…). She retained her formidable reputation as a serious cultivator of renown for wielding Zidian, her spiritual weapon. But factually, there are no mentions of her using it on any disciples, though her strong, uncontrollable temper has been alluded to. There's a fear in Lan Zhan’s mind that she may have taken out her anger on innocent disciples, even if there's no written proof after the fact. Worse still, is Jiang Fengmian’s categorical diplomacy. The man was not confrontational by his nature, and his wife seems to have made up for his lack of it. Lan Zhan can't help wondering if she ruled Lotus Pier with a heavy hand and whether or not Jiang Fengmian allowed it. The possibility of him letting it happen is bad enough, but if he just stood back and did nothing, then that was definitely a worse alternative. 

Lan Zhan swiftly moves on. Facts, he reminds himself. The little voice inside his head protests, whining that just because it wasn't recorded anywhere, written down for all to read, doesn't mean it didn't happen. If that's the case, then it's not the first time history has been butchered to make the victors look good and blameless. Nobody pays attention to the losers just because the voices of those whose position is higher are strong enough to drown them out. That is the saddest reality.

The next time Wei WuXian's name appears, it is with a list of Sect heirs called to Nightless City, and possibly the second move by the now increasingly stronger Wen Ruohan. Having gathered his hostages, because make no mistake, that's exactly what they were, in one place, the Wen army was systematically destroying all opposition to their rule, bringing all smaller sects to serve under their banner. The Cloud Recesses had been severely damaged, buildings burned down, and its disciples scattered. The Sect Leader, Zewu-Jun also known as Lan XiChen, coincidentally another familiar name, was missing and Lan WangJi's leg broken when he was taken as a hostage, to make sure the Lans did not retaliate against the Wens further.

Many books have been written about the Sunshot Campaign, but few focus on the events leading up to it. 

Most notably, the killing of the Xuanwu of Slaughter, a tortoise body with a snake head, a monster of infamy and destruction, said to be raised on the residual resentment energy leftover after devouring hundreds of cultivators. The accounts are vague but Lan Zhan gleaned this much from them: ultimately, it was Lan WangJi and Wei WuXian who defeated it after being trapped in a cave with it.

That was followed by the burning of Lotus Pier. The Wens were savage and merciless in exacting a swift retaliation for the heirs and their disciples escaping from their clutches, and they started with Yunmeng. Out of all the accounts, Lan Zhan remembers those pertaining to the destruction of the Jiang Sect to be the most harrowing. 

His stomach rumbles and Lan Zhan checks his watch: it's way past lunchtime and with no windows down here, it's completely escaped his attention. He goes back upstairs with a stiff body, regretting having sat still for so long. Lan Zhan quickly eats and cleans up after himself, uses the bathroom and drinks plenty of water, remembering to take a bottle with him back downstairs when he returns. 

Now that he's refreshed and seen to his bodily needs, it's easier to go back to his notes.

The only survivors of the Lotus Pier massacre were the disciples not there when the Wen army attacked, but even Jiang Fengmian and Madam Yu perished during the fierce battle. Jiang YanLi who had been sent to the Meishan Yu Sect to visit her grandmother also survived, as did Jiang WanYin and Wei WuXian. Lan Zhan isn't sure how but he assumes the parental figures must have been able to aid their getaway. 

But then there's a three month gap where no mention of Wei WuXian can be found. The Lan records state that in that time of turmoil and chaos, Nie MingJue and Zewu-Jun joined forces to train and bring together the disciples of the other sects to fight against the Wens. Lan Zhan has only managed to find the one sentence mentioning Lan WangJi and Jiang WanYin, stating that they were working in tandem looking for Wei WuXian. 

Lan Zhan’s eyes are closing on their own so he decides to rest for a few minutes. A power nap can do wonders and with his erratic sleep, he thinks it won't matter too much. He spreads out his sleeping bag and lies down on top of it, not bothering to get inside because he doesn't intend to sleep for too long. 

****************

This time, when Lan Zhan opens his eyes, he is sitting on a large, dry boulder, in a wilderness, a barren landscape that looks oddly familiar in a bleak and horrible way. Sparse, coarse, dead-looking mottled green grasses dry from the lack of moisture sit in odd clumps scattered here and there, and there's a blurry feel to the place, like looking at a colourful picture under a film of dust.

There's an oppressive pressure in his chest and a darkness in his mind, but he's not scared. A crackling orange fire burns in front of him, and as he looks around, a too familiar voice cheerfully greets him.

“Lan Zhan! We must stop meeting like this!!” Wei Ying beams at him, his face lit up by the glow of saffron flames. “Though I do have a theory about that! Wanna hear it?” He playfully wiggles his eyebrows up and down.

Lan Zhan can only nod, struck by his beauty once more. The image in his mind doesn't do Wei Ying justice, his red lips pouting in the most adorable way, starlight silver eyes made gold by their campfire, and his messy hair twisted up into a terrible half-knot. His bangs are as wild as ever, and he blows out a breath with frustration, trying to move them out of his eyes. The ever present red ribbon sways with his motion behind him, the only other flash of colour in this almost monochromatic, bleached landscape.

“Well, you see, this is our third meeting, and I'll take a guess by asking you if you were sleeping? In the real world?” Wei Ying stares back at him without blinking, anxiously waiting for his reply.

Lan Zhan moves his head up and down, too overwhelmed to actually talk.

“See? I think I'm trapped in a kind of dreamscape, and every time you go to sleep and lose control of your subconscious self, it brings me back.”

“So you ARE a figment of my imagination!” Lan Zhan replies, equal parts disappointed and impressed that Wei Ying has worked this out by himself. The part about himself showing up whenever Lan Zhan was asleep, not the imaginary part, though that's kind of important, too.

“Well, not quite. This isn't going to be easy to explain, and even worse to believe…but I think you tried to keep me safe at some point, and where's the safest place ever? It's inside of you!” Wei Ying scoots closer and grabs his hands.

“We know there was a Lan WangJi, birth name, Lan Zhan, in your timeline,” Lan Zhan says, “But I don't think I'm him.”

“I think you are. But go ahead and tell me why you think that you're not. I'm all ears,” Wei Ying wiggles in his seat next to him with excitement, a knowing look in his clever, dancing eyes. 

“I don't know you at all. I have no memory of you, and you are too exciting to forget. I cannot believe that I could have met you at any time and not remember it.” This is getting too close to admitting the depths of Lan Zhan’s own fascination with Wei Ying. In both of his opposing personalities. 

“Lan Zhan! You flatterer!!” Wei Ying laughs with delight, and mock outrage, the rosy blush on his cheeks deepening significantly. “But I bet it would be quite the mind-fuck to be aware of yourself in the past, no matter what lifetime. Maybe it's part of your self-protection mechanism, you know, your mind making you forget so it doesn't boil over trying to make sense of an impossible situation.” He nods to himself, as if making a decision. “Alright, let's go with that. And to make things easier, let's call past you, or past not-you, Lan WangJi. My Lan Zhan will be referred to as Lan WangJi and you can still be Lan Zhan. There! Not confusing at all!” He giggles at his solution. 

“Mn.”

It's only one word, and it's the standard response Lan Zhan has found to be supremely useful because no one can actually call him out on it. The tones he uses can vary depending on who he has to deal with, but it allows him the luxury of being able to express how he feels without giving himself away, and subjecting himself to scrutiny or punishment. 

But he's taken aback at how hearing him say that singular word has completely transformed Wei Ying’s face. All traces of mirth disappear to leave him with the fondest sincere expression, his lovely red lips parted in an ‘O’ shape, and he looks so soft that all Lan Zhan wants to do is gather him into his arms and never let him go. It's such a strong feeling, straight from his core that Lan Zhan has to hold himself back, stop his already lifting hands to fall back into his lap. Lan Zhan doesn't like touching people, or people touching him, so it's doubly confusing.

Time seems to freeze, catching them in the syrupy sweetness of this moment. It's as if they're trapped in honey, neither able to look away. Seconds pass and Lan Zhan wants this moment to last forever. There's something so fleeting, so precious about it, that he understands what Wei Ying meant about trying to catch water in his fingers. 

It's Wei Ying who moves first, shaking himself out of this strange melancholy. 

“Well, I think if we're to make sense of anything, we should compare notes,” he says confidently. His eyes are bright crystals of light changing colour as he moves, sometimes flashing silver and when he looks at the fire in front of them, molten gold.

There's no way Lan Zhan has ever met such a fascinating creature as him. He's as sure of this as he knows all three thousand rules once followed by the Lan Clan, hundreds of years ago. He is captivated by this man, enchanted by his every quirk, every nuance that is the sum of his being. Sitting next to him is like living next to the sun. Lan Zhan is magnetised and burning up with want.

Lan Zhan is relieved that he went through his summary book because now, as he tells everything he read to Wei Ying, he sounds confident and sure with every word leaving his lips. Professional, that's what he's going for, outwardly if not internally. Inside, his thoughts are just as crazy as a bowl of noodles; looping and tangled and complicated. It's better if Wei Ying doesn’t find out about that, about his ceaseless fascination with him. Lan Zhan stops when he reaches the part of Wei Ying’s three month disappearance. 

“I cannot find out where you went,” he explains. “Lan WangJi and Jiang WanYin searched for you, systematically going through every supervisory station established by the Wens and retaking the towns and villages as they went along. But records show that their need to fight was slowly diminishing.”

Lan Zhan is not prepared at all to see the utter devastation on Wei Ying’s face. His beautiful silver eyes shimmer with tears that he's determined not to release and he blinks them back fast as if he's not allowing himself to mourn something. 

“Wei Ying…during those three months, where were you?” Lan Zhan’s voice comes out softer than he thought it ever could. His concern is apparent, as crystal clear as daylight, and he hopes it's not as obvious to Wei Ying how much he cares about him.

“Ah…Lan Zhan, tell me, who runs Lotus Pier now?”

That's a strange question. If this Wei Ying was truly only a product of Lan Zhan’s imagination, then shouldn't he already know everything Lan Zhan knows? Lan Zhan shivers, burying that thought as soon as he understands that and the implications of it. No need to dwell on anything abstract. It's better for him to go with the flow, as it were.

“Lotus Pier is a well known scientific academy now. They specialise in ancient artefacts, but their primary focus is in the preservation of history. They work closely with different museums in Wuhan, and with the art museum there.” See? Professional, unbiased, unemotional. Lan Zhan has nailed it.

“So…no one called Jiang Cheng, or Jiang WanYin, right?” Wei Ying chews on his bottom lip nervously. “You don't know anyone by those names?”

“No. Not that I know of.” 

Wei Ying takes a few deep breaths as if preparing himself for something difficult and hard to endure. When he opens his eyes, they're determined as if he's made a tough decision and he's going to see it through. 

“Sometimes,” he says, “You go through something, and no matter how much you want to forget it, it becomes the foundation of all your actions. The basis of all your reasoning. What I'm about to tell you won't affect anyone now so I guess it doesn't matter who finds out. There are no records of this because I didn't tell anyone, and the only other two people who knew about it were murdered.”

Lan Zhan reaches over to put a hand on Wei Ying’s knee. It feels right to help him like this. To offer comfort even if he doesn't know why he should. 

Wei Ying’s voice is detached and devoid of emotion as he speaks now. “After Lotus Pier was destroyed, we came back. Jiang Cheng and I. Just to check if there were any survivors or to see if we could do anything.” His eyes are lost, far away and unseeing. “But the Wens were brutal. Piles of bodies, all my shidis and shimeis, the elders, the servants, not a single person left alive. They strung up Uncle Jiang and Madam Yu on the threshold of the Swords Hall, right across from the Lotus seat.” His voice cracks and Wei Ying clears his throat, his breath ragged and hoarse. “The last thing Madam Yu had told me was to look after Jiang Cheng, even with my life. He wanted to go and get his parents, but that would have been suicide. We ran away but he still wanted to go back. I told him that it was better to lick our wounds away from there, and live, return to fight another day than act rashly, and that's when he turned on me. I'd never seen him so angry, furiously lashing out. I let him punch me, and I thought, better let him get his anger out now so we can think about what to do next. He was grieving, and there was no one else to blame, so he tried to strangle me.”

“What?” Lan Zhan can't believe it. “Why? How was it your fault? Wei Ying, Lotus Pier was the natural next target. From a military point of view. Surely he knew that?”

“Lan Zhan, grief does strange things to a person. I'm not making excuses for him, I'm done with that.” Wei Ying covers Lan Zhan’s hand reassuringly, a sad smile on his face. “There was a time when covering my didi's actions was second nature to me. You understand that, right? The bond between brothers.”

Lan Zhan thinks about himself and how Lan XiChen always protected him. Always redirecting their uncle from his rigidity, deflecting any criticism anyone might direct towards Lan Zhan away from him. 

“But the Jiangs never adopted you formally. You were not obliged to protect them.” Lan Zhan regrets the words as soon as they spill from his mouth.

Wei Ying covers his hurt with a small awkward laugh. “To me, no matter if anything was declared officially or not, Jiang YanLi was my sister as much as Jiang Cheng was my brother. You can't share space, your meals, your hopes and dreams, and go night hunting together and still feel otherwise. It's just how it was between us. We knew, and it didn't matter what anyone else thought. But I guess enough time has passed that I can step back and look at that whole mess with fresh eyes. Or, I can try to,” he amends.

Lan Zhan really wants to hug him. Even if this isn't real, even if all of this is playing out in his mind, he wants to offer comfort badly. He settles for taking one of Wei Ying’s hands in both of his own and squeezing them. It doesn't feel anywhere near enough of what he wants to convey, but it'll have to do for now. Lan Zhan also refuses to cause him any more hurt by his own thoughtless words. If Wei Ying needs him to just listen, then that's what he's going to do.

“We spent the night in some field between Yunmeng and Yiling, but I knew Wen Chao was ruthless. He wouldn't stop looking for us, for Jiang Cheng because he was the heir, and for me because I'd always shown him up for his stupidity. If I'd known what the consequences would be of me antagonising him, whether he deserved it or not, maybe I would have thought twice about it. But I always wanted to protect Jiang Cheng and it didn't matter how I did it, or if he knew or not.”

Wei Ying sounds so sad that Lan Zhan immediately breaks the rule he just made up in his head. “Wei Ying, that kind of responsibility was too much for anyone to live up to, and you were still a teenager. All of you were.” When Lan Zhan first learned that the greatest fighters and heirs actively involved in the Sunshot Campaign were below twenty years old or just over, his shock had gone through the roof. He's still amazed at Wei Ying’s maturity, how he understood situations and the possible outcome of them way before anyone else. How he used his intelligence to stay five steps ahead of his peers, and instead of praising him, or commending his cleverness, they brought him down.

“We met up with ShiJie and then we cried together. No matter what Madam Yu was like, nobody deserved to die like that. And Uncle Fengmian saved me from the streets and gave me a home. I would have done anything for that man.” Wei Ying sounds lost.

There's so much to read between the lines here, but this time, Lan Zhan stops himself from speaking. He doesn't want Wei Ying to have to suffer more, and besides, why? Just to root around in an open wound? Is it only to satisfy his own curiosity? If so, that's a selfishness Lan Zhan can let go of.

“We hid in Yiling but the place was swarming with the Wens, all on the lookout for us. ShiJie was sick, and Jiang Cheng was in no state to think about the next step. I went out to get medicine and food because we still had to eat. I nearly got caught but I escaped and went back to the inn, but Jiang Cheng was missing. I knew he would have gone back to Lotus Pier at the first opportunity, so I went after him. Wen Ning, a trusted friend, was there and helped to get him out, but by then it was already too late. You see, Wen Chao's bodyguard was also his secret weapon, Wen Zhuliu. Also known as the Core-melting hand. They'd destroyed Jiang Cheng’s golden core, leaving him weak and unable to cultivate.” Wei Ying’s breath shudders with remorse, rattling in his lungs.

Lan Zhan is familiar with ancient practices, and with cultivation as a whole. While it would be unbelievable in today's society, back then, cultivators were revered and honoured for their abilities. Especially based on the strength of their golden cores and the level of their cultivation as a whole, some of them even ascending to immortality. So he is fully aware of the devastation that single action must have caused.

“Wen Ning saved us. He took us to his sister who was a famed doctor and she was based in the supervisory office in Yiling. She was also the niece of Wen Ruohan.” Wei Ying quickly goes through the events that happened to him after that. He shocks Lan Zhan further when he tells him about the core transfer, about keeping the truth from Jiang Cheng because he knew how his didi would have reacted, and then Wen Chao with his minions outnumbering and overpowering him, throwing him into the Burial Mounds. So Lan Zhan finally discovers exactly how and where Wei Ying spent those three months.

Chapter Text

Wei Ying tells Lan Zhan about exacting his revenge on Wen Chao and Wen Zhuliu, how he met up again with Jiang Cheng and Lan WangJi. How they won the Sunshot Campaign, turning the tide towards the Allied forces, and snatching victory out of the jaws of defeat. He speaks about how the fear and admiration in everyone's eyes began condensing to just fear, how those who had praised him while they were fighting in the Sunshot Campaign turned against him, whispering behind his back and throwing around the wildest accusations. He explains about finding Wen Qing one day in Lanling, and then taking her to go and free the civilians from the atrocious war camps, old people and children, some of whom didn't make it. He tells Lan Zhan how at Qiongqi Way, Lan WangJi had let him go, after Wei Ying’s confession that he didn't mind dying if it was by his friend's hand.

They're both crying then, and it's with a start that Lan Zhan suddenly sits up.

He's dazed and confused, his face wet from real tears. He wants more. He tries to go to sleep again, hoping that he can, and that Wei Ying will come back and finish what he started. Lan Zhan is so involved, and he can't believe all the additional information he's getting. 

Today, Wei Ying had answered many of the questions that had arisen in Lan Zhan’s mind about the choices he had made and why he had done what he did.

Lan Zhan begins writing everything he's learned at the back of the summary book, so he won't forget.

What an insane, heroically tragic sacrifice to do! For Wei Ying to give up his core, and such a powerful one at that, so easily…it just makes Lan Zhan’s grief harder to bear. It was an extremely selfless act, and it left Wei Ying with no way to cultivate. Throwing him into the Burial Mounds in such a weak state meant that a lesser man would have died. But like a phoenix rising out of the ashes of his own flames, Wei Ying came back. Refusing to die, he invented a whole new way to fight using resentment energy and destroying his enemies.

Lan Zhan thinks he knows how well that must have been received by the Cultivation World at large. All of them traditionalists by nature, how would they have reacted to Wei WuXian's new style of fighting? Lan Zhan’s research clearly shows their disdain for it, right after Wei Ying helped them win the war. They painted him as an enemy and then tore him down, but they never understood that Wei Ying was only trying to do the right thing. Every time he met a terrible, impossible situation, Wei Ying made choices that in hindsight, might be questionable, but at the time, they were his best options for surviving, and that is a commendable quality all by itself. All the time, he tried to turn towards the sun like a flower needing nourishment, chanting the mantra of “fix it and move on”.

But now Lan Zhan is tired of thinking about the past. His sore eyes rest on the wooden crate dead centre in the middle of this room.

He knows he has been procrastinating in opening it up. Instinctively, he realises that what's inside holds the key to understanding whatever is happening to him in the present. He wonders what Wei Ying will make of it, even if he remembers what's inside the metallic cooking vessel. Maybe Wei Ying will know how to open it safely, or at least what the curse engraved on the lid of the cauldron means.

And there's only one way to find out.

However, Lan Zhan remembers what happened the last time he touched it. Out for three days and hit with a lasting flashback that was a speedrun through someone's whole life. Images he had no way to make sense of running in his mind like a broken projector unable to stop.

So it's with caution that he approaches the crate now. 

He wants to be able to study it without touching it. Maybe he can draw it out and somehow show Wei Ying what it looks like. That feels right. To know that there is someone he can ask, even if there's no guarantee he'll get an answer. But it feels comforting that he's not alone. Somehow, he has a partner in Wei Ying, a knowledgeable person who he can rely on even if their communication is erratic and doubtful. His mind skitters away from the thought that he no longer believes Wei Ying to be a creation of his own mind.

What was it that Wei Ying had suggested? That Lan Zhan wanted to protect him and the safest place for him was inside Lan Zhan’s mind…That is the most puzzling part of this conundrum. Why?

Lan Zhan needs answers.

Down here in the bottom section of his filing cabinet, Lan Zhan stores his tools. He has a bare-bones knowledge of DIY and often takes pleasure in fixing small problems around his home, so he hunts around in it, looking for his crowbar. It is a vicious looking instrument, but as Lan Zhan attacks the wooden crate by carefully prying it apart at the seams, it also gives him a perverse satisfaction to use it. Within seconds, lying in the wreckage of splintered wood is the tarnished cauldron, discoloured and contained, standing on three stumpy legs.

Before he can examine it further, his phone chimes in quick sharp beeps, signalling a succession of messages. If it's either XiChen or Mo XuanYu, then Lan Zhan better answer, so he reluctantly steps away from the carnage around the cauldron and checks his phone.

It's past ten o'clock at night, and Lan Zhan has forgotten to check in with his brother. 

He's missed a few phone calls and ignored more than a dozen messages in the new Powerpuff Girls group, and from XiChen. The last one was only time stamped a few minutes ago, so Lan Zhan opens that chat first, aware that it's past nine and XiChen will likely be worried about him, but won't be able to rest until he's heard from Lan Zhan. 

Lan XiChen: WangJi, call me when you reach Wuhan. Where are you staying?

Lan XiChen: Have you already left?

Lan XiChen: It's been six hours, Didi! Let me know you're safe!

Lan XiChen: Didi, you better call me as soon as you see this message!

So Lan Zhan calls him.

“Ge, I'm sorry, I fell asleep and missed my stop. Didn't see your message until now,” Lan Zhan says, feeling wrongfooted. Technically, it's not lying. But it's not the truth, either, and he knows it. 

“A-Zhan!” XiChen sounds so relieved, and that adds to Lan Zhan’s guilt. “You must have been exhausted to fall asleep like that. Did you stop off anywhere?”

“No. The faster we can clear up any missing information, the faster I can come back. I'll be with Luo QingYang in Wuhan.” That's all Lan Zhan really wants to say but he listens dutifully as XiChen tells him about his day.

“A-Yao returns tomorrow morning,” XiChen adds with a long yawn.

“Isn't he in Yiling?” Lan Zhan had assumed he would return to the live investigation. 

“No. His father called him back to Lanling.” There's another yawn.

“Go to sleep, Ge. I'll check in with you tomorrow, or you can pass any messages via Luo QingYang. Goodnight, Ge.”

“Goodnight, Didi. Rest well, and I look forward to talking to you tomorrow.”

Lan Zhan stares at his phone, a little lost. Why is the slimy Meng Yao coming back here? It feels like his time to investigate the cauldron and figure out what's happening is running out. The last thing he wants is having that greaseball watching over his shoulder. 

Quickly, he checks the Powerpuff Girls chat.

Blossom (LXC): Bubbles, have you heard anything from Buttercup? I'm worried. 

Bubbles (MXY): No. But I'm sure everything is okay. He said he was leaving early, so maybe it's nothing to worry about?

Blossom: I hope that's the case.

Bubbles: My Sperm Donor is upset and has spent the last half hour telling me how disappointed he is in me. Apparently, I should have found a way to go with Buttercup to Wuhan. Yao-Ge says not to worry and has given me several websites to check out, as well as archived records of what used to be the LanlingJin Sect and their conferences. I'll check them out and report back if I find anything. 

That was in the morning more than twelve hours ago. Lan Zhan’s phone vibrates in his hand and he sees the mysterious vanishing three dots. Someone is typing.

Bubbles: I think I found something exciting but I can't say for sure. The signal is crap and the writing is archaic. I can hardly make out the gist of it, but I'll post pics as fast as I can.

Lan Zhan waits but nothing pops up immediately so he messages the chat.

Buttercup (LZ): I am safe and well. Good night everyone. 

Lan Zhan switches his phone to Do Not Disturb, and puts it down. Now is not the time to be distracted. He must clear away the debris left behind after the destruction of the wooden crate before he can clearly see the top of the cauldron. He grabs an old t-shirt and carefully wipes away the sawdust, and then picks up the splintered wooden pieces to move them away where they won't get in his way.

But as he lifts them into his hands, a particularly sharp piece digs into the soft part of his thumb and before Lan Zhan can jump away, three drops of blood fall from his hand right onto the four-circled curse array on top of the cauldron lid. With horror, Lan Zhan watches as the blood moves by itself to complete the outer circle, travelling in the groove made by ancient hands. It's so fast and seems to be powered by something other than what he can see. The entire array lights up with a red glow and there's a sudden explosion of high pressure surrounding him, culminating in a ‘Zhummm’ sound. The light bulb above him shatters from the intense pressure as Lan Zhan is thrown backwards and the lid of the cauldron shatters.

Chapter Text

Mo XuanYu leaves the Cloud Recesses as late as he can. It's with a sense of foreboding that grows heavier upon him with every mile taking him closer to Lanling and his father.

There was once a time when this visit was something to look forward to, when he'd been excited to know the mysterious person who had fallen in love with his wonderful, pretty mother. She, too, had been brimming with naive hope and filled him up with exciting dreams of a brightly coloured future full of unique possibilities.

The truth was an unforgettably harsh slap across his face.

Jin Guangshan is, and always has been, a power hungry philandering self-absorbed womaniser, and not even the sprouting up of the seeds he's unfaithfully planted in so many fertile wombs across the country have been able to cure him of his terrible obsession. Being one of them, Mo XuanYu has learned to look past the shining facade of the image that the President and CEO of the Jin Academy of Science shows to the world.

The old adage of ‘All that glitters is not gold’ surely applies to him.

Gold, usually mined, has also been associated with being discovered in muddy riverbanks, in dark, dirty places. Coveted, lusted after, pursued.

Mo XuanYu came to Lanling and found himself one of many bastard children, all looking to outshine one another. A cutthroat competition to excel, happily stepping on each other's heads in a bid to win their father's approval. It was like watching a reality show full of rich kids complaining about their first world problems, and how difficult their lives were because they'd broken a nail before breakfast all the while plotting each other's demise over sharing cocktails and appetisers.

Here in this environment, he was neither unique nor exceptional, just more fodder to be bullied into being a metaphorical sacrifice. He quickly learned that to go unnoticed was the best chance of survival. So he kept his head down and worked hard instead, realising that he could pursue his own interests and that would be its own reward. Unfortunately for him, that's also where the stars aligned and brought him back into the peripheral gaze of his most dangerous half brother, and their father.

Climbing up the hundred and eight steps towards the entrance of the lavish palace where Jin Guangshan resides, and insists all his spawn live too, Mo XuanYu thinks the man’s every bad quality could be engraved onto each stone surface and they'd still run out of steps. His heart is pounding in his chest and not simply out of exhaustion when he reaches the top.

There are five steps of security to navigate before he gains entry: the security guard who checks his ID, a biometric thumbprint scanner to make sure, a booth that takes his fingerprints (of both hands) and a photo spot, finishing with a last security guard who nods at him.

All to protect the countless priceless artefacts and works of art housed in the seat of luxury and glamour, many that should rightfully be on display in a museum somewhere else. But Jin Guangshan hasn't gotten where he is today by being charitable, let alone giving up what he wants.

Mo XuanYu is made to wait after he's been announced to his father of his arrival.

He's sitting in a reception hall surrounded by Calacatta gold marble slabs, tiles on the floor and halfway up the walls. Two golden pedestals stand like guardians on either side of the ostentatious double gilded doors, and on top of each, huge golden urns hundreds of years old are displayed. Above his head, a huge portrait of a youthful Jin Guangshan is hung by a golden rope, and three crystal chandeliers light up the space to an unbearable degree. Money can't buy taste, Mo XuanYu winces, thinking of the library in Cloud Recesses.

A place of gentle elegance and grace, exuding peace and tranquility through every mahogany beam and book, making him feel more at home there than he ever felt here. The pale walls, the powder blue accents and the scent of fragrant incense that provided a serene atmosphere, aiding the pursuit of knowledge.

When his father finally does call for him, Mo XuanYu enters the huge office to pass a scantily dressed young lady hastily doing up the buttons on her green dress, and unfortunately, he hears the unmistakable sound of a short zip being pulled up. His grimace is internal as he pastes a smile on his face with tight lips, wondering what his mother ever saw in the scum of humanity frowning back at him from behind the massive gold marbled desk. Even his pens are gold, Mo XuanYu notices with disgust. There is such a thing as going over the top.

“Why are you here and not with Lan WangJi in Wuhan?” His father snaps his question out like the reptile he is. No emotion or care.

“Ah, I'm sure A-Yu has his reasons,” another familiar voice answers for Mo XuanYu instead.

Meng Yao, in all his short glory slides in next to him, flashes his beguiling dimples confidently at their father. Mo XuanYu hadn't even heard him enter, let alone appear right next to him. Isn't he supposed to be in Yiling?

That's his cue to explain, Mo XuanYu realises a beat too late. He does his best to inform both of his superiors of the current situation in the Cloud Recesses. He gives them just enough information, exactly what he discussed with Lan XiChen prior to coming here.

“Why does he want to go there? I don't understand. What can Wuhan have that he needs to learn now? When we're so close?” Jin Guangshan grouses, pouring himself a few fingers of golden whiskey and guzzling it down fast.

“Lan WangJi is thorough. He won't begin working on the cauldron until he's satisfied he has all the facts. That's why he sent me here.” Mo XuanYu keeps his eyes on the ground, deferential to a fault. Both of these men are ruthless predators and he must keep their guard down. He's not even sure when his loyalty, if he had it at all, shifted from the Jins; one man doing a shitty job of being his father, and the other pretending to be a doting brother. He's seen more sincerity in Lan Zhan and Lan XiChen than in either of these two fakers, and he's had enough.

“Why HAS he sent you here?” Meng Yao turns to him, calculating shrewdness in his dark eyes. “As his intern, I also expected you to shadow him wherever he goes.”

Meng Yao waves his phone from side to side in the least patronising way. “We have a three-way chat group. All our findings will be shared. Lan XiChen is researching for any information about how the Lans dealt with Wei WuXian and his unorthodox path, while I'm supposed to find out what happened here, back then. We found records of the Phoenix Mountain hunt where the Yiling Laozu allegedly caught thirty percent of the prey and single handedly managed to upset all of his peers. I think Lan WangJi wants us to get an understanding of his powers and how he did that.” He doesn't miss the way Meng Yao glances at their father; the surreptitious nod from him in return.

“Then perhaps I should revisit the Cloud Recesses. Lend a hand to A-Huan.” Meng Yao offers that suggestion as if he's just thought of it, also keeping his eyes firmly down.

“You must be a better lay than I gave you credit for, if your boyfriend has already forgiven you,” Jin Guangshan lets out a belligerent guffaw, scratching the pudge of his stomach absentmindedly. His fingers slide between the soft egg-yolk silk making it gape and it reveals curling coarse hair surrounding his belly button. Gentle rolling layers of fat.

Meng Yao hides his disgust by bowing demurely, but Mo XuanYu saw his expression before it returned to a placid obedience. Meanwhile, he's trying to breathe through clenched teeth instead of his nose. The air is thick with a cloying heavy perfume and the smell of animals in rut.

Perhaps Jin Guangshan does not care about showing his body at all, because he says something else about how the apple doesn't roll far from the tree, and this time it's Mo XuanYu who has to hide his dislike of the man. He's such a cheap man for all of his money, a disgrace really. Mo XuanYu wonders whether he was ever right to choose between the lesser of two evils; his mother's terrible sister and her awful devil spawn, an entitled, bitch of a son, or this, working for a contemptible stain upon humanity instead. It's a tough choice and they're neck and neck in how unappealing they each are.

“Come along, A-Yu. I think I may be able to show you where to look.” Meng Yao leads him out of the reception room after bidding goodbye to their disinterested father.

Mo XuanYu is thankful but wisely stays quiet. Meng Yao might be his half brother, but he's way too clever and inscrutable for him, and Mo XuanYu is too frightened of giving himself away. Meng Yao is a vicious man for holding grudges and Mo XuanYu has seen it for himself, how his victims never see him coming. He doesn't want to be on that list. Or any list, actually.

“Our father can be crass, but he means well,” Meng Yao says conversationally, when they're far enough away so there's not a chance Jin Guangshan could overhear them.

Mo XuanYu doubts that very much. “Yao-Ge knows him better than I do.” That isn't a lie.

“Not difficult to do,” Meng Yao murmurs to himself, but for a moment he looks scared as if he's spilled a dark, forbidden secret. His gaze flickers towards Mo XuanYu, who makes sure his face doesn't budge an inch from indifference and Meng Yao relaxes, sure that his blip of exposing his inner thoughts has gone largely unnoticed.

They walk past priceless swords in polished glass display cases, daggers with jeweled hilts and casings, ornate hairpins and feathered headdresses laden with rubies and emeralds, and a collection of jade statues. Even the smallest one of these would have fed Mo XuanYu and his mother for a few years. She would not have had to suffer the way she did in her last days, pining away for the love of a man who had none of that to give her. Mo XuanYu has many, many reasons to hate Jin Guangshan, but allowing his beautiful, intelligent mother to perish when his father had the means to ward off the starvation that finally killed her is his most unforgivable crime.

Meng Yao takes him into the abandoned catacombs long left unused. The entrance to this oldest part of Koi Tower is the least visited by family and staff alike, though it's still relatively clean. Mo XuanYu has never been here before.

Meng Yao unlocks the great metal door with a chunky thick key and brings Mo XuanYu to a stone chamber that opens up into a wider space. Several shadowy passages yawn away from this room like open mouths, dark, daunting and empty. Mo XuanYu knows that a long time ago, the ashes of the Jin ancestors and family members were interned down here, and he tries not to look over into the inky darkness. This place is already creepy without his imagination adding extra images of dread.

Meng Yao points to a wooden chest in the far corner, the largest one in the room. “What you're looking for is most likely in there.” He hands over the bulky key. “Once you're done, lock up after yourself and return the key to me immediately. Understand?”

“Okay, Ge.” Mo XuanYu adds the endearment but he's burning up with annoyance. He might be younger than his half brother by a good few years, but he hates being treated like a brainless idiot. Yes, it's the cover he uses the most, but he doesn't have to like it despite its usefulness.

“Alright. See you later,” Meng Yao tells him, and leaves.

Mo XuanYu switches on the deskside lamp, thanking God and the Universe for modern technology and then bounds over to the trunk Meng Yao pointed out. He hopes there aren't any spiders or other unpleasant surprises lurking around it as he unclasps the clunky locks, all three of them. The heavy lid hits the back wall with a loud, echoing thud, releasing a small cloud of dust. Mo XuanYu quickly steps back covering his nose and mouth with his sleeve.

Inside, the top layers are thick leather-bound tomes with crumbling parchment, and under those are folders tied together. There's a lot of material to get through here and Mo XuanYu lugs the books over to the desk first, anxious to get started. But when he flips open the first page, his jaw drops in shock. The writing is tiny…no, miniscule! And it's fucking seal script!

Mo XuanYu has a light bulb moment. He whips out his phone for the translation app only to find that he's so far down underground that there's no sodding signal!

This is going to be a long, long day…

***************

Modern problems require modern solutions, Mo XuanYu thinks, wondering what his step count for today is going to reach. He feels like it'll hit twenty K for sure, but this system works. He's managed to push one of the other smaller trunks against the heavy door to hold it open. Then it's a matter of taking screenshots on the desk and jogging to the threshold where, as he steps over it, his phone latches onto the signal like a hungry calf to its mother, and Bam! He can translate and send each document to Lan WangJi.

He can't tell if it's working or not, but he wants to finish up as soon as he can and leave this weird place. It's not just the creepy zombie vibes, though they're bad enough on their own but there's a heaviness, too, settling upon his shoulders. It's as if Mo XuanYu is being watched by hundreds of pairs of eyes hidden in the deepest, darkest tunnels feeding into this chamber.

As soon as he finds the ancient records of the conference meeting and the ensuing banquet, Mo XuanYu rubs his tired eyes and brings out one of the folders. He can look at the details later; who knows if he'll get a chance like this again, so accumulation is the most important factor. These next documents are laminated sheets of parchment, forever preserved by someone who knew exactly how to do it.

But as he begins to parse through the diagrams and chicken-scratch characters, Mo XuanYu realises that he's stumbled upon something incredibly important.

Mo XuanYu has long held a fascination for unusual, strange things, not your run-of-the-mill standard boring stuff. His interests skate around the sort of things other people would naturally avoid, and so in his parsing of historical figures and finding unique, if dead, role models (this isn't his fault - look at his dad), of course his attention flew towards the most notoriously infamous criminal of Chinese history.

These words are notes, quickly scribbled down before they're forgotten or before the genius thinker goes off on another tangent. The scope of ideas themselves, the immense possibilities of the many directions they can go in, and the varied consequences that could occur, establish a certainty in Mo XuanYu's mind: this is the work of the disreputable, too clever Yiling Laozu. He is looking at the fluidity of someone's mind map laid out for him to follow. It really is a blueprinted maze of his ideas, each zinging along a myriad of pathways. If Mo XuanYu had the time, he might be able to understand parts of this incredible work but certainly not the whole of it.

Everything points to it: the parchment that might have decayed if not for the lamination, the terrible writing which matches a copy of the three thousand rules when Wei WuXian was punished in the Cloud Recesses for breaking too many of them, and the sheer cleverness of these thoughts. Only Wei WuXian, an established genius of his time, could have come up with something like this.

Which begs the question: why are these documents here? Were they discovered in the Demon Subduing Cave recently and brought here? Or were they found elsewhere, and if so, when? Secondly, while Mo XuanYu is no expert in seal script, he knows enough to determine that something incredibly important is being discussed in these notes. Something terrifyingly powerful and unique. Hell, it might not even be the Seal script! What if Wei WuXian just happened to have really bad writing?

Whatever is being theorised about, Wei WuXian called it the Yin Hufu. A weapon that allowed a person to fully control resentment energy. A weapon that gave the bearer immense power to control the dead.

In his studies of the Sunshot Campaign, Mo XuanYu had come across the accounts of some of the witnesses, battle-worn survivors who had recounted the formidable power of the Yiling Laozu, his mastery over Chenqing and this mysterious artefact that was coveted after by the Jins, and even on the last day of the war, impressing Wen Ruohan enough to shock him. Nobody had been able to identify the secret weapon that gave Wei WuXian the power to control the corpses, but they all knew he had something to help him.

Until now, Mo XuanYu had thought they were making things up, that the Yin Hufu didn't exist at all. Yet right in front of him are the notes pertaining to its existence and how to improve using it. At least Wei WuXian has been careful not to demonstrate how he created it in the first place. But here in Mo XuanYu's hands is the undeniable proof that it existed, once upon a time.

So where is it now? And who else knows about it? To this degree of certainty?

The best case scenario is that it was destroyed like the rumours say it was. But…if it existed at all, then something so powerful and wicked should be protected so that it wouldn't fall into the wrong hands. The worst case scenario Mo XuanYu can think of is if the Yin Hufu is hidden somewhere in Koi Tower. Anywhere his horrible father and manipulative conniving brother can get to wouldn't just be bad…it would be catastrophic.

Chapter Text

As XiChen gets ready for bed, the sense of unease lessens with the knowledge that his brother has reached Wuhan safely and there is no need to worry about him. But sleep proves elusive tonight as his thoughts turn towards Meng Yao. 

XiChen remembers the first time he saw him in the cafeteria of the university they both attended. Someone had knocked into Meng Yao, spilling his food and drink all over him and then yelled at him for getting in the way. XiChen's strong sense of justice hadn't allowed for that and he'd taken sure steps forward to stand in front of the shorter man, facing his bully. The show of strength and XiChen's own stellar reputation had the other guy apologising profusely and walking away. When XiChen turned around to help clean up the mess, he'd taken one look at the deepening dimples flashing with surprise and an endearing shyness and BAM! He was smitten.

Meng Yao had willingly gone with him to the bathroom where XiChen had loaned him a fresh shirt and together, they'd tried to wash away the worst of the tomato sauce and orange juice from his trousers. After that, they somehow always found each other, either XiChen seeking Meng Yao out or the other way around. Pretty soon, they became inseparable and shared many of the same interests. XiChen began to understand that what he thought at first to be merely an intense friendship was really something deeper. But the fear that Meng Yao didn't reciprocate his feelings kept his lips sealed tightly. 

Then, one drunken confession later at a party that they left together, changed their relationship forever. Meng Yao felt the same and the very next day, they shared their first kiss. Things progressed faster after that, and in their final year, they moved in together until graduation. XiChen asked Meng Yao to come back to the Cloud Recesses with him, but Meng Yao reluctantly said no.

That's when the truth about his father came out and XiChen learned all the sordid details of Jin Guangshan and his raging infidelity, how he drove his first wife to death with his serial affairs, and how he refused to marry Meng Yao’s mother. XiChen knew and understood where Meng Yao was coming from, and they agreed that for now, they could commit to a long distance relationship for a while.

They get together whenever they can and things are good between them. 

But ever since Meng Yao approached Lan WangJi about the artefacts found inside the Demon Subduing Cave in Yiling, a fissure has opened up between XiChen and Meng Yao. At first it was only a hairline fracture, but as time passes, XiChen is worried about their future. He knows that he loves Meng Yao and that Meng Yao has often told him that in the same way…mostly in the heat of passion.

However now, there's a tiny voice of doubt slowly getting louder in the back of his mind that asks him if his love is truly balanced. Does Meng Yao love him just as much as he loves Meng Yao? Is there equality in their bond?

If their relationship was just about the two of them, existing in a private bubble of equal love and affection, then XiChen would say yes, and everything would be alright. 

But if he allows himself to be painfully honest with himself, here alone in his bed, then he has to admit that several factors must be considered. 

XiChen knows that Lan WangJi doesn't particularly like Meng Yao, he only tolerates him because he's so important to XiChen. There, that sentiment is balanced because, while Meng Yao is far too polite to put words to his feelings, XiChen thinks the tolerance is mutual, not out of choice but because Meng Yao has to like the younger brother of his boyfriend. It's expected. The smoothing over of any friction is a joint effort by both parties.

That aside, Jin Guangshan is their biggest obstacle. 

XiChen doesn't care about him at all, but he's terrified of his influence over Meng Yao, and the lengths Meng Yao would go to just to gain filial approval. XiChen tries not to think about their visit to Yiling, and how their rooms were breached and their privacy violated. Meng Yao was directly responsible for that, but it's not like XiChen can ask him about that without giving away Mo XuanYu's input. He's still a little wary of Mo XuanYu anyway, but as long as Lan WangJi is working for the Jins, he'll keep his opinions to himself. 

The worst part of this mess is the biggest question: if a situation were to arise where Jin Guangshan came into direct conflict with the Lans, then where would Meng Yao place his loyalty? With his boyfriend, or his father?

Sadly, XiChen cannot answer it. Maybe because he's scared that he knows the answer and he doesn't want to face it.

***************

XiChen wakes the next day feeling more tired than when he went to sleep. Resting remained a fleeting thing as he kept waking up from disturbing dreams that had him tossing and turning all night.

But more trouble awaits him when he gets out of bed. For a start, his alarm didn't go off and it appears to have died in the night. Shaking it doesn't work. There's no hot water for a shower so he's extra invigorated after a cold one. Throwing on more layers, he feels the chill outside his quarters intensely and he realises that the generators that should have kicked in if a power outage had occurred, simply haven't started up. He calls his secretary and is told of hundreds of complaints regarding this. Thankfully, due to her competence, the electricity company supplying the Cloud Recesses has been informed and a team is already on its way to fix the problem.

Then XiChen runs into a grouchy Uncle Qiren, whose mood is worse because there have been no hot cups of tea forthcoming, and none are apparently on the foreseeable horizon, either. XiChen can see a dark cloud hanging over his head as he frowns. It's best to be quiet when he's like this, he's found in the past, so they walk quietly towards the freezing library. Someone has thoughtfully laid out blankets for them, and bought them pastries and takeaway tea from Caiyi Town. Given the distance, the tea isn't piping hot, but they can't have everything, can they?

Uncle Qiren obviously disagrees. He's too polite to complain about it but his frown deepens exponentially. 

When Meng Yao is announced, XiChen swears he sees yellow lightning strike in that dark, thunderous cloud hanging over his uncle. He smiles politely and asks that Meng Yao be allowed inside to meet with them.

The air in the library becomes even frostier.

Meng Yao hurries in, a bright smile gracing his lovely bright lips, and those infuriatingly cute dimples glow with happiness. 

“A-Huan,” he says, taking both of XiChen's cold hands in his.

Uncle Qiren harrumphs, frowning at him.

Meng Yao tactfully ignores him. “I heard about the power cut. Are you alright? Uncle?” he dares to ask the older man himself. 

Uncle Qiren refuses to answer and looks away petulantly, so XiChen covers his rudeness.

“Apart from a cold shower, we're alright. It's a surprise though, because even the generators were knocked out, and they're supposed to be immune to any outages. That's the whole point of them, after all.” 

Meng Yao rubs his warm thumbs over XiChen's stiff knuckles, trying to comfort him. “Do you know why that happened? What could have caused such a problem?”

“Usually a power surge of some sort, but it could equally be a rodent chewing through connecting wires so it's hard to say.” XiChen brings him forward and gives him his tea. “What brings you to the Cloud Recesses? I was surprised you were able to get away from your father if you only reached Lanling yesterday.”

“Oh, you know me, I love travelling, especially away from Koi Tower,” Meng Yao laughs uncomfortably, as if he's joking.

But it gives XiChen a pang in his heart because he gets the feeling Meng Yao is being a little too honest there.

If they have another thing in common with each other, it's the fraught relationship they each had with their fathers. While Lan Qingheng-Jun was alive, his temper often got the better of him, leaving XiChen confused and afraid of him. Even if Meng Yao isn't afraid of his own father per say, he's definitely afraid of losing his father's approval. After all, in Lanling, there's no shortage of replacement children ready and available to take over his position, as Meng Yao is too aware of.

“A-Yu mentioned Lan WangJi's visit to Wuhan. Did he get there alright?” 

The question sounds innocent enough, and XiChen berates himself for doubting Meng Yao again. Meng Yao has never betrayed him outright, he tells himself. Except for when they visited Yiling, the little voice of doubt reminds him.

“Yes, he missed his stop, but he's there now,” XiChen explains easily, stamping on that internal voice.

Everything will be alright as soon as the power is restored. It will be. 

**************

They decide to take a walk later, when the sun comes out. They pass many engineers dressed in grimey high-viz outerwear, fluorescent oranges, greens and yellow, truly an eyesore within the cool, calm blues and whites of the Cloud Recesses. 

But away from all that activity, when they can no longer hear the shouts of the workers demanding equipment and tools, the peace is restored. It's nice to hear the twittering birds instead, and listen to the whispering wind through the trees above. Tiny buds are starting to appear and the first signs of spring bring hope to XiChen's eyes. 

“I love this time of year,” he murmurs wistfully. 

Meng Yao looks around, and because they're alone now, he entwines their fingers together, giving them a squeeze. 

“What is your favourite part of it?” 

XiChen shrugs, shaking his head. “Winter has its own beauty, but there's something about new life, rejuvenation…looking forward to a new beginning, that sort of thing.”

“Do you ever wish that you were born elsewhere? Away from any kind of legacy or duty?” Meng Yao brings their joined hands to his lips, kissing the back of XiChen's hand with his warm lips.

He thinks about the question. Does he? It's hard to say. “I've never thought about it,” XiChen says, finally. “We've always had Uncle to guide us along. Lucky for him, both WangJi and I share his interest in preserving the past, our heritage. What would I do, if I wasn't here?”

“Ah, yes. Forgive me, it was a silly question.” Meng Yao replies, with the strangest look in his dark eyes.

XiChen stops them, right in the middle of the path. He brings Meng Yao into the circle of his arms and embraces him tightly. “A-Yao, nothing is silly coming from you. I am interested in all you have to say, all your thoughts, your hopes, your dreams. I love you.”

They've walked far away from the main university building now, and surrounded by tall cedars and pines, it feels like they're the only ones here. Meng Yao hugs him back, burying his face in XiChen's chest.

“It's just sometimes, what I have to do…it's overwhelming. There's a lot of pressure to do well.” 

Which you don't have, is an echo of extra words he doesn't point out, that XiChen tries to ignore. But before he can respond, a single loud caw rings out above them in the ensuing silence, and then suddenly, that's all they can hear. A crescendo of sound, loud and shrieking, an incessant ‘caw, caw, caw,’ and when they look up, all the branches of the trees around them are heavily laden with crows and ravens. Their numbers are frightening. There are so many of them, like black clouds gathered together, threatening them with an imminent downpour. 

Meng Yao swallows hard, and XiChen tries not to be affected.

“Why are there so many?” XiChen wonders, staring up at them. They seem to be staring back at him, too, which is frankly, unnerving. Diamond-black eyes, unblinking and strangely…aggressive?

“Maybe they followed the cauldron,” Meng Yao offers, not looking away from the birds, either. “Perhaps we should check on it, while we're here.”

XiChen is surprised to find them so close to the Jingshi. It lies just over the next grassy hill, out of their immediate view. How did they manage to get here?

“WangJi isn't home,” he protests, “so I don't think we should.” XiChen tugs on Meng Yao’s hand, a tiny objection to his suggestion. 

Meng Yao takes one step in that direction towards the Jingshi, and that's it. 

All of the ravens and the crows descend upon them, squawking, cawing, missiles with wings, and then as XiChen gasps in shock to see all of them launching from the tree branches totally unified in attacking them, he hears Meng Yao scream. When he turns to look, his boyfriend is coughing, wiping his mouth after spitting on the ground, his face is green and looking awful. But the birds haven't finished with them yet, and they're still swooping down to maintain attack after attack, not only with their outstretched claws and sharp beaks but, oh, God, they're actually pooping on them–no actually, is it just on Meng Yao?

The air is filled with the dreadful flapping, hundreds of relentless wings and screams mingled together, both animal and human mixed in terror.

XiChen grabs Meng Yao and drags him away, as fast as their legs can carry them. All the way back to the university, when one last well-aimed white and sludgy green excrement lands in Meng Yao’s hair. The look on his face, pure disgust and fear, will remain unforgettable in XiChen's mind.

They're only safe once they dart inside the glass doors of the building, panting, breathless and exhausted. XiChen watches as the birds flock up in the sky, circling and waiting, menacing even. One last caw, like a warning, and then they fly back to where they came from. XiChen breathes in deeply, trying to calm himself down before finally taking an inventory of their condition. 

He's largely unhurt, a little dishevelled and not too affected. But Meng Yao?

His clothes are torn and mangled, his hair a wild nest of bedraggled strands on top of his head in disarray, and he's absolutely covered in bird shit. He looks awful. And traumatised. He's still shaking as XiChen gently takes his elbow and gingerly guides him towards his own quarters, ignoring the gaping students and the loud whispers. Meng Yao stays quiet all throughout the short trip. Now and then, his body seizes with sudden muscle cramping before he purposefully gains control of it again, pausing whenever that happens. 

But as XiChen begins the arduous task of heating up water on the gas stove so his boyfriend can bathe, he remembers the few moments of peace before they were attacked. The whole incident feels unreal and out of some bizarre nightmare…and if it wasn't for the state of Meng Yao, XiChen could have daydreamed the whole incident. 

He ferries the hot water filled saucepans to the bathroom, turning on the cold tap water to balance out the temperature and gauge how much more he'll have to heat up, wincing when a particularly nasty glob of green slime squelches onto the floor. Meng Yao hasn't moved an inch from the cream fur rug outside the tub.

Then XiChen recalls his admission of love. 

But he also remembers, Meng Yao did not say it back.

Chapter Text

His head hurts.

That's the first thing Lan Zhan becomes aware of when his consciousness returns. The second thing is that his eyes are still shut. The feeling is soothed because someone is very gently carding their warm fingers softly through his hair. His aching head is resting on something warm too, like a pillow but firmer. It feels so good that he doesn't want to move yet. 

He can hear a low humming, a song that sounds familiar but he can't recall if he's ever heard it before. The melody is sweet yet full of sadness, and he wonders what it would sound like if it was played on a traditional instrument such as a guqin or a dizi. He still plays his own instrument, a guqin gifted to him by his mother for his eighth birthday. He had even taken lessons in the art of playing but then as he got older, his free time diminished and he eventually stopped. Now as he listens carefully, there's a steadily growing pang of missing it in his heart. He wishes he had continued to play. And he wonders if he can make the time to do it again, in his present time. 

“Lan Zhan, ah, sweet Lan Zhan.” It's Wei Ying’s voice. He says it softly, a smile of warmth in the lilting cadence of it. “I know you're awake. Well, as awake as you can be in this place. Won't you please open your beautiful eyes?”

As if ruled by that command, Lan Zhan’s eyes flutter open and then he's delightedly shocked. Wei Ying is so close, his lovely face right there just inches away, amusement and concern dancing in his gorgeous silver eyes. Heat floods through his body when Lan Zhan realises where he's lying down, and his ears are burning, red hot with embarrassment…but not in a bad way. His head is resting in Wei Ying’s lap. It feels good.

Wei Ying licks his lips and Lan Zhan is immediately drawn to the action. They're pink and shiny with spit and look tempting. Would they be soft or hard? How would they taste? The more Wei Ying stares back at him, Lan Zhan feels trapped by his gaze but more like…he wants to be. He wants to be here with Wei Ying, to look at him with these growing feelings and maybe, do something with them. The tension mounts as neither of them blink, shallow breaths that disappear. It would take just a tiny push. If Lan Zhan lifted himself up, grabbed the back of Wei Ying’s neck and simply pulled him closer. Would he be welcomed?

It's a giddy thought.

Pillowed on warm thighs, looking up at the most beautiful man he's ever seen before. How is this real? How is this happening? To him? He's so overcome and overwhelmed that he tries to sit up, but his head pounds most painfully and he groans, closing his eyes again. The moment is broken between them.

“Aiyah, Lan Zhan! Try not to move, hm?” Wei Ying gently admonishes him, and thankfully, his fingers resume what they were doing before. “Deep breaths, I promise it will help.”

It does, though it's a while before Lan Zhan can open his eyes again and not feel nauseous. He stays where he is, coming to terms with it quite graciously. After all, it's not like he chose to be there, right? He can't believe his own subconscious would let him pick THIS place, even if he's hurt!

“Lan Zhan…?” Wei Ying asks him, after a while. There's only kindness and worry in his expression. 

“Mn?”

“Well, it's just that something feels wrong. I mean, out there, we established that we only get to meet like this when you go to sleep, right? But I think you've managed to hurt yourself, enough to knock yourself out. There's no other explanation for the state you're in. So I have to ask, what did you do?”

“The cauldron.”

“What cauldron?”

Lan Zhan blinks up at him, confused. Ah, yes! That's right, when they had been sharing what they knew about each other, Wei Ying had told him about how Lan WangJi had let him go at Qiongqi Way. That was the last thing they spoke about before Lan Zhan had woken up. What happened to him afterwards filters into his mind again, like brown fermented tea leaves strained into a white porcelain cup.

“When you left with the remaining Wens, you went back to the Burial Mounds. You stayed in a cave…calling it the Demon Subduing Cave. A long time passed between then and now, hundreds of years.” Lan Zhan sits up slowly, lifting a hand to his temple. The pounding has lessened and he feels a little better when he breathes through the pain.

“Hundreds? Of years?” Wei Ying sounds shocked. His hand rests on Lan Zhan’s back, slowly rubbing absentminded circles with warmth radiating from his palm. It is both comfort and support.

“Mn.” Lan Zhan tries to think about it from his point of view. 

There's no way Wei Ying could have noticed anything out of the ordinary when looking at Lan Zhan. They've always met when Lan Zhan sleeps and he still prefers wearing loose pyjama pants and a simple long sleeved cotton hanfu tied at the side for nightwear - they are close enough to traditional clothes not to seem out of place. It's easy to overlook them.

Next, the issue of time itself. 

The span of a year passes as time normally does, for any individual. Days, weeks, months flow like a river into the sea of years, and living through that amount of time feels appropriately long. One only sees the magnitude of each passing moment when they stop to look back, and realise it. There have been instances when Lan Zhan’s attention is shocked into seeing the passing of many years only by coming face to face with the proof of it, when cousins and relatives come to visit, and they've grown in both age and size. People who as infants previously only reached his knees, and then the next time he sees them, they have shot up in height towards the sky like a redwood. Then he can see how many years have passed in between meetings.

How strange then, to think about it and be told about the passing of decades, nay, hundreds of years. Time that has flown away in the blink of an eye, and not to have experienced any of it. To remain here in stasis, caught like a fly in the tangled web of suspended time, unmoving and unchanging here, but unstoppably flowing out there. How bizarre!

It's only fair that he should give Wei Ying time to process this. To come to terms with the shocking revelation. 

“Hundreds of years…” Wei Ying whispers this to himself, shaking his head as if it's impossible to believe. “Listen, I'm going to just put that to one side for now. It's no use trying to force my mind around it,” he laughs with uncertainty. “I need to pickle that.”

“Pickle?”

“Yeah, give it time to ferment, make it real up here,” Wei Ying says, tapping the side of his head three times with his forefinger. “But while that's happening, please continue. You're right, I brought them back to the Burial Mounds because that was the only place I knew. It was safe as long as I could keep the resentment energy away from us. And being such a terrible, frightening place, I knew the ones that still hated us would have thought twice about trying to come for us there. They'd have to reach us first, and I was certain I could defend our stronghold against them.” He laughs again but this time, it's full of sadness. “I was cocky back then. One could say even arrogant, but I believe that would be in the face of comparing myself to others if they were capable of matching my prowess. But is it really arrogance, Lan Zhan, if I looked around and I knew that nobody could match me? Not even you, but see, it's not an equal measurement because we were no longer playing with the same skill set. You still had your core. I gave mine away. I don't regret it, not when it gave Jiang Cheng his reason for living again.” He sighs heavily.

Lan Zhan tries to recall what his notes said about this time period, but his brain is mushy and refuses to cooperate. There is something crucial about this, but for the life of him, he cannot remember it. Maybe it is better to concentrate on the present time for now.

“A few youngsters let off fireworks in the Burial Mounds.”

Wei Ying stares at him, clutching his head in despair. “Lan Zhan…do you even realise how much there is to unpack in that one little sentence? What the fuck were children doing in a place like that, anyway? And fireworks? I'm guessing like firecrackers…but then, who let them have them in the first place? Why in your time are people so irresponsible? Like, what the fuck, huh?”

His reaction makes Lan Zhan smile, just a slight upturning of his lips.

“This is not funny, Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying protests, but he's also fighting a grin.

Pretty soon, he's giggling into his fingers, and Lan Zhan huffs out a tiny laugh.

“It is not funny,” he begins, but that only makes Wei Ying laugh harder.

“I know what you mean,” he gasps, “but there's something so fucking ridiculous about all of this, you know?” It takes him a few moments to calm down after he wipes his eyes. “Okay, let's start again. Kids in the Burial Mounds, got it. They let off fireworks. I'm with you so far. Next?”

“The explosions caused a landslide and a sinkhole opened up.”

“Oh. My. Fucking. God!” Wei Ying slides out from under Lan Zhan and begins pacing frantically. “Just when I think I've got a handle on it…” He rubs the centre of his chest with the heel of his hand as if trying to erase the feeling.

Lan Zhan gives him a minute, trying not to miss the sudden absence of his warmth. But he's aware that he could regain consciousness at any time and lose this precious connection. It's with startling clarity that he recognises this. The time he's spending with Wei Ying IS precious. But at the same time and somewhere along the line, Lan Zhan has let go of his fan-girling attitude, because yes, that's how much he admired the man behind the Yiling Laozu. Did he make mistakes? Yes, of course he did. He was only human. However, his failings only endeared him more to Lan Zhan as he discovered how much Wei Ying had suffered at the hands of the Cultivation World at large. But in spite of insurmountable difficulties, Wei Ying carried on. He stood up for what he believed in, and he refused to give up, standing alone against public hatred and vilification. He had his own deep-rooted moral compass to guide him, and it's a credit to him that Wei Ying did not waver from doing what he thought was right.

The more he gets to know Wei Ying as he is, the more real he's becoming in Lan Zhan’s mind. And the more real he becomes, the easier it is to care about him. To want to protect him, keep him safe. Always.

“Alright.” Wei Ying turns around to face him. “I'm ready. Hit me with it. What happened next?” He comes over to sit by Lan Zhan again, his knees touching the side of Lan Zhan’s long outstretched legs.

It's impossible not to be affected by his proximity, the closeness he assumes Lan Zhan is comfortable with. And that's another surprise, isn't it? That Lan Zhan is alright with Wei Ying touching him. In fact, he'd like it even more if Wei Ying carried on doing it. It's such a strange but comfortable feeling that this time, it's Lan Zhan who takes the initiative. He turns his body and reaches for Wei Ying’s hands. He's trembling, he realises. Both them are, but for different reasons. Probably. 

For himself, being this close to Wei Ying is like lighting a match to his soul. Everything about this man ticks all of Lan Zhan’s boxes, and it's impossible not to be attracted to all of him. How he looks, how he behaves, the slightest endearing little quirks, the mannerisms of him that are inexplicably wholly just Wei Ying. Lan Zhan loves it all. All of him.

“Lan Zhan? Are you alright?” Wei Ying dips his head so he can stare into his eyes, and it's so adorable, Lan Zhan wants to kiss his pouting mouth.

He quickly shakes himself out of it. Nope, not going to think about THAT at all. Now is absolutely NOT the time.

“Mn.” Lan Zhan shakes himself out of his thoughts. “The sinkhole revealed the Demon Subduing Cave, and several priceless artefacts were found. Including a cauldron. Several hundred years old, made out of bronze.”

“Does it have a lid?” Wei Ying asks him, not meeting his eyes.

“Yes.”

“Well, why is it so important? We used to use that for making radish soup, and cabbage when we could get it. It was big enough to feed all of us,” he muses. “In the beginning, we didn't have anything to cook in, so we exchanged a cartload of radishes and a dozen heating talismans for it.”

“Wei Ying, the cauldron was sealed when it was found.”

“Sealed?”

“Mn. I do not think it contained leftover soup, no matter how tasty.”

Wei Ying gapes at him. “Lan Zhan, did you just make another joke? I can't fucking believe it!” He giggles again, helplessly shaking his head. “Okay, I'll play along. If it didn't have soup in it, what's so great about it?”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan’s voice turns serious. “There is a curse on the lid. Four circles, many characters.”

“A curse?” 

“Mn. That's what we think. But I'm no expert.”

Wei Ying clutches his hands even tighter, the warmth of him seeping into Lan Zhan from that small centre of contact, and the broadest grin lighting up his face. “Well, Lan Zhan, you're in luck because I am.”

Chapter Text

Sitting this close to him, Lan Zhan can see how the thought of a puzzle to solve makes Wei Ying come alive, like he's been plugged into a socket. His shimmering eyes sparkle like scattered diamond dust and his full pink lips are smiling with the brightness of a thousand suns. 

“Lan Zhan, can you draw it for me?”

He nods. “What I remember, certainly.” 

Wei Ying stands up excitedly and looks around for something. He grabs a stick and hands it to Lan Zhan. 

“If I'm right, and I'm living in your subconscious mind, then whatever you show me, whatever you remember, I should be able to fill in the blanks.” He says that distractedly, as if his sharp mind is already considering all the possibilities. 

Lan Zhan begins drawing on the dry ground. There's the two outer circles and the two inner circles, and the characters that he remembers copying into his bunny notebook. Four circles created by four lines. An inauspicious number, he recalls. Then the four directions, North, South, East and West. Bei, Nan, Dongfang and Xi. There's a calmness brought about by diligently tracing each character on the dirt, the strokes meditative and soothing. His concentration is magnified by recalling what he saw, both in the photos Meng Yao showed him, and the original cauldron lid he had seen up close.

As he draws, Wei Ying slowly paces around him, pausing now and then to observe his progress. He starts talking, and for a moment, Lan Zhan believes he's addressing him. But then he comes to the realisation that this is how Wei Ying works: he thinks out loud, exploring a number of possibilities while discarding ones that don't make sense or that do not fit in with his theories. Of these, he has many, simultaneously creating more as he goes along. His mind is a hub of information, a living library of stored knowledge accessible faster than picking up a book. It's extremely hot.

Lan Zhan has to tamp down the solid desire to throw down the stick in his hands and just kiss him.

Lan Zhan is very distracted because of him. So he's not prepared at all for Wei Ying to finally come and stand next to him, throwing an arm around his shoulders and leaning in. He grabs the stick out of Lan Zhan’s hand when it becomes clear that he's not going to add anything more to the curse array. 

“The worst thing about war, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, seriously now, “is that it is bad for everyone. Not just for those who are giving up their lives on the battlefield every day, but for the innocent ones. The civilians who are minding their own business. They're just trying to survive a daily life, forget about the violence and the carnage of opposing forces. All they want is to carry on with their lives, find a way to exist and continue doing it. Even the soldiers.

“But while everyone is focused on doing that, they forget what it is to be human. To think about the fabric of our souls, what nourishes them, to remember noble pursuits such as music, painting, making things. Poetry, the language of the heart. Compassion for our fellow travellers on this joint path called life. Kindness towards one another. The willingness to carry something for a tired old person, or to catch and throw a kid up in the air just to make them laugh. Human things.” He shrugs sadly. 

“Mn.” Lan Zhan thinks about Meng Yao and his willingness to sacrifice everyone and everything just to earn a pat on his head from his father. “Other wars are the silent ones,” he remarks, recalling what a stronghold the dimpled bastard has over his brother. 

“Espionage,” Wei Ying studies him carefully. “Not a stranger to that, then.”

“There's a man called Meng Yao,” Lan Zhan replies, and tells him all about it. About Mo XuanYu's internship, and their joint effort to thwart Jin Guangshan. The cameras and the listening devices. He realises how outlandish it all sounds to someone unaccustomed to modern day technology and life in the current times. 

“He knows it is a curse, and people have died, and he still wants you to investigate it?” Wei Ying snorts.

“Mn. He is his father's puppet.”

“Well, the interesting thing about curses, Lan Zhan, is that you don't need a golden core to activate them.” Wei Ying leaves his side to crouch down by the array. “Hatred is the strongest kind of resentment, and if blood is used, then the curse becomes indomitable. There's no beating that kind of agreement; it's a blood bond between the dark forces of the world and a person's own vendetta. A need to retaliate, to claim revenge for perceived slights.”

“Is that what this is?” Lan Zhan motions towards the array on the ground in front of them. 

“Perhaps,” Wei Ying answers enigmatically, crouching down next to it. “See, this means death, siwang. But this one over here means perpetually and this one, forever. This one over there symbolises time, coupled with chance…so I'm a little confused.”

“Mn.” At least they had that in common.

Lan Zhan is familiar with the idea of curses; but seeing one, an active one, is disturbing. That someone would want to intentionally cause harm to another, and take certain steps to spread their malicious energy…it's not a nice thought. A person would have to choose to do that on purpose. 

“Were curses common, in your time?”

“Yeah,” Wei Ying grins at him, jabbing his own chest with both of his thumbs, with a confidence that has Lan Zhan’s knees going weak. “That's why I became an expert at dealing with them. I'm guessing they've lost popularity in your time?”

“People know of them, but I have never seen any in action myself.”

“That's unusual,” Wei Ying agrees. “Back then, I remember so many different kinds. There was once an old lady, possibly a demon, going from village to village cursing babies. She had a shawl woven with lots of different colours, and her intended victims always praised it. Then she would throw the shawl over the kids and make them really ill.”

“Why?” It is unfathomable to Lan Zhan. 

Wei Ying shrugs half heartedly. “Who knows? Sometimes, creatures of the night like to cause mischief for the sake of it. Do they really need a valid reason? It's hard to understand their motives. But easy to see that just because we wouldn't ever do something like that, it doesn't mean others also wouldn't stoop to that level. Personally,” he sniffs disdainfully, “if I wanted to hurt someone, I'd kill them outright, openly. Curses have always felt underhanded to me.”

“Mn.”

“As cultivators, it was our duty to protect the innocent, to help those in need. As part of the YunmengJiang sect, we had to uphold the motto: Attempt the Impossible.” He nods towards the mysterious curse array, pointing at the outer circle. “From what I can tell, even though much is missing, this curse is centred around causing the death of someone. To bind that death with time, although I can't tell to what end. I mean, death is death, right? The ultimate end. Even if the soul moves on, that particular body is gone. So when you go back, I need you to concentrate on the array and memorise the parts you haven't remembered. Then maybe, we'll have more to work with when we next meet up.”

Those last words send a thrill up Lan Zhan’s spine and he shivers. This means Wei Ying expects them to meet up again, and he's looking forward to it. He almost forgets to tell Wei Ying what happened to him, when he was last awake. Wei Ying’s words make him remember. 

“Wei Ying, I accidentally spilled a few drops of my blood onto the array.”

Wei Ying’s jaw drops, and he gives Lan Zhan a gentle shove. “Lan Zhan! Why the fuck didn't you start with that?”

Lan Zhan’s ears heat up with embarrassment. He ducks his head, unable to answer that. He would never admit to Wei Ying that he was enraptured by the vision he saw upon waking up this time around. 

“I bet there was a reaction. What happened afterwards?” Wei Ying makes himself more comfortable by switching to a cross-legged position. 

His calmness spreads over Lan Zhan like a warm blanket and he relaxes slightly. If Wei Ying hasn't reacted extremely, maybe it wasn't so bad. Lan Zhan knows you don't mess around with curses, and it was a silly mistake no matter how accidentally it had happened. That's no excuse. But with the way Wei Ying is behaving, it gives him hope that the situation is salvageable. 

“The blood moved along the grooves of the circles and lit up the array. The pressure was building but I hadn't realised, and then it burst through the air throwing me back. I must have passed out,” he remembers.

“Wow! That explains a lot.” Wei Ying taps the side of his nose thoughtfully. “I bet the lid exploded. Blood is a very strong conductor, you know. The strongest. It's the ultimate life force. You can't get more powerful than that.” He nudges their shoulders together. “Trust you to go all out, huh?” He giggles. 

“It was an accident,” Lan Zhan insists petulantly, glaring at his hands. 

“Oh my God, you're so cute,” Wei Ying beams at him, and then coughs as if remembering himself. 

Lan Zhan stares back at him, realising that his own mouth is pouting ever so slightly, and that's why Wei Ying had said that. 

Wei Ying clears his throat again and motions towards the array quickly. “If it's in pieces, then be very careful. We still need to figure out what it was intended to do. And if there's a cure. So…I hope you're good at puzzles!”

Lan Zhan blinks and just like that, he's back in the Jingshi. He's lying on the ground and everything is dark. His whole body aches, especially his head, and he immediately misses the lively presence of Wei Ying. 

That's the thing about him, isn't it? Even if he's not real, while Lan Zhan is with him, he feels real. Navigating this situation, trying to figure out what's going on is much easier with someone by his side. Especially if that someone is Wei Ying. Smart, thoughtful, capable, Wei Ying is the perfect person to have next to him and he wishes that Wei Ying could find a way to exist in this world. The world in which Lan Zhan is awake and fully conscious. There's no one Lan Zhan would want more than him.

His faith in his brother has been shaken. XiChen's willingness to overlook Meng Yao’s complicity in the questionable behaviour they endured in Yiling makes him part of the problem, and Lan Zhan reluctantly has to admit that Mo XuanYu is a far better candidate for his trust at the moment. 

His head pounds as he makes himself sit up slowly. He can't see a single thing but there's a faint light coming from the stairs that lead up to his bedroom. What happened to the electric lights? As his eyes become accustomed to the dimness, he makes out the vague shapes of obstacles around him, before attempting to shift. Moving in gradual increments, he braces himself to stand up.

The first thing he must do is go and check the generator. The Jingshi has its own power supply. It's so far away from the main building that bringing wires from all the way there just didn't make sense, and when Lan Zhan was renovating the premises, his architect had suggested this option rather than digging up the unspoiled land in between.

He uses the stairs to crawl up into his bedroom. Surprisingly, it still looks the same; nothing is out of place or disturbed so that's one thing less to worry about. Maybe the secret room is fortified to withstand outside disturbances, so perhaps that's why it was able to contain the explosion of energy from the cauldron. 

Daylight sneaks in through the gaps in his curtains and blinds, and it's a welcome change from the opposite darkness below. Luckily, Lan Zhan’s phone is in his pocket and it shows the time: seven in the morning. There'll be less people about this early and Lan Zhan should be able to get to the generator and fix it without being seen.

*******************

Operation Fix Generator is a success; it's just a matter of turning on switches that were overpowered by the surge, and once it begins humming as normal, Lan Zhan sneaks back inside his own home. Breakfast is a quick bowl of cereal with milk before he goes back down into his hideaway. 

When he turns on the lights, the secret room looks like a bomb detonated inside it. The trunks containing his research have been blown open, the contents scattered and strewn all over the floor. The bookshelf has emptied its contents across the room, and he's lucky that it had been secured to the wall otherwise he might have sustained worse injuries. Nevertheless, Zhan feels like he's been tossed about in a tornado, battered and bruised everywhere. 

There's a strange hum in the air, like a magnetic field. It wasn't there before, and he thinks it might have something to do with why he can't hear anything outside of his own heartbeat. His ears are still ringing.

A trickle of something wet slides down from his temple and when Lan Zhan goes to wipe it away, he's shocked when his fingers come away red with thickly congealed blood. 

That's when he sees the fragments of distorted metal close to where he'd woken up. They're familiar looking, and his gaze snaps to the cauldron which has tumbled onto its side now, the mouth of the vessel turned away from him. But it's very obviously open now, and Wei Ying was right: the lid had exploded into pieces all around the room. He finds and locates more pieces of the lid, and his hand hovers over them tentatively.

Should he move them? Will anything happen to him if he touches them now?

Only one way to find out, he thinks, reaching out his hand…

Chapter Text

Mo XuanYu locks the door of the catacombs easily, noting how smoothly the mechanism works despite the key and the actual lock being ancient. Someone must be visiting this place regularly to look after them so well, or at least interested in maintaining their excellent condition. Meng Yao had been overprotective about the key, insisting that it should be returned to him as soon as Mo XuanYu had finished with the old records.

Plus another thing to consider is that in a place as big and complicated as Koi Tower, Meng Yao knew exactly where Mo XuanYu needed to find information about Wei WuXian.

Coincidence? Probably not.

But did Meng Yao know about the Yin Hufu? Or had he forgotten the information about it was also stored in the same place that Mo XuanYu had to investigate? Either way, he's not about to ask his untrustworthy, scheming brother about it. However, he does have to give this key back to him.

Mo XuanYu is tired and half asleep already but he drags himself up from the basement depths of Koi Tower. His feet are heavy and feel like lead as he trudges up the uneven stone slabs until he reaches the white and gold marble foyer again. He's unsure where to find Meng Yao at this time. He checks his phone, happy to discover that it has reconnected to the WiFi by itself now that it has a signal, and when he enters the group chat, he's pleased to see his initial messages have reached okay. Luckily, he had the foresight to send the screenshots about the conference held in Lanling, and the banquet afterwards, with the writing regarding the Yin Hufu only to his mentor, Lan WangJi.

He can't trust Meng Yao, and by proxy, that means Lan XiChen can't be trusted either, even if Mo XuanYu rather likes him. That's the hardest part of this. Liking someone's personality but knowing they're compromised and accepting that. He shakes his head to clear away the fatigue. All Mo XuanYu wants to do now is lie down and sleep for a week, but the chunky iron key is heavy in his hand. He has to return it first.

Wait a minute, he thinks. Didn't Meng Yao say he was going to the Cloud Recesses? Mo XuanYu should have asked him when he intended to leave. What if he's already left? Well, Mo XuanYu can just deposit the key in his room and tell him about it later. Meng Yao is a bit funny about people going into his wing, but since he was the one who insisted on the key being returned ASAP, Mo XuanYu thinks he won't mind too much. Maybe.

In and out, easy peasy.

Meng Yao, being the favourite heir after Jin ZiXuan abandoned his birthright and left to go and ‘find himself’, has his quarters right next to their father's offices. This is where the real business of the Jin Academy takes place; the reception room Mo XuanYu met his father in earlier is just an ostentatious welcoming hall intended to shock and awe potential business partners and conquests. Mo XuanYu makes a face, remembering the half-dressed woman who had left his father just before their meeting. He doubts Jin Guangshan even knows what faithfulness is, either in or out of the bedroom. No wonder Jin ZiXuan took off, away from this toxic environment, after his mother died. That's another thing he has in common with the eldest Jin son, the same badly treated mothers. But he can't fault or begrudge Jin ZiXuan for how he dealt with their father.

Mo XuanYu hears loud voices as he approaches and he stills when his own name is mentioned. He creeps closer, looking around for a place to hide should anyone exit the room suddenly. Unfortunately, nowhere is big enough. Still, he might get away with it if he's caught because he can hold up the key and say he was coming to give it back.

Pressing his ear to the door, he hears two voices recognising them as his Sperm Donor and Meng Yao.

Jin Guangshan: Is our secret safe? He doesn't know what we want, correct?

Meng Yao: Correct. A-Yu isn't clever but he has the wits to shadow Lan WangJi and report back faithfully. He's loyal to you. If it's found, he'll tell us and have no idea how important the information is.

Jin Guangshan: Just keep an eye on him. We can't afford any mistakes this far along. And I want you to keep Lan XiChen close. If WangJi decides to talk to anyone about his findings, it'll be him. Soon, it will belong to us and then we will be invincible. If you make sure it comes to me directly, I will show you what it means to be my son.

Meng Yao: You are too kind, father. This one is honoured enough to be of service to you.

Mo XuanYu rolls his eyes at that. Both of the people inside this room are wolves in sheep’s clothing, and he doubts either would blink twice at selling each other out. Loyalty is a foreign concept to them.

Jin Guangshan: Humph. Better than that good-for-nothing ZiXuan. Ran away the first chance he got! I was willing to make him the prince of my kingdom but that fucker would rather rot away in Wuhan.

Meng Yao: Ungrateful. Please trust me when I say I would never abandon you like that, father. My mother taught me how to be a filial son.

Jin Guangshan: Whatever. If you're going to the Cloud Recesses, then leave first thing in the morning. Have you got eyes on Lan WangJi in Wuhan?

Meng Yao: Of course. The one tailing Jin ZiXuan can do both.

Jin Guangshan: Well, no doubt you want to sleep. Go now.

Mo XuanYu doesn't wait for the door to open; he jumps into action by flying through the only other door right next to him as he hears Jin Guangshan calling out for Meng Yao again, as if imparting one last command. Those precious few seconds are exactly what he needs.

But as they say, out of the frying pan and into the fire, because this turns out to be Meng Yao’s receiving room!

Mo XuanYu has just half a moment to slide under the couch as the door opens behind him. His heart is beating so loudly, Mo XuanYu is a hundred percent convinced Meng Yao will find him because of that alone!

There's not much space to shift about as the lights come on. Mo XuanYu is trapped under the furniture and he forces himself to slow his breathing, in and out through his mouth. It's cramped but spotlessly clean, free of dust. He can see Meng Yao shedding his suit jacket and hanging it on the coat stand in the corner. Maybe he can make an escape when Meng Yao retreats into his bedroom, he thinks, watching his half brother standing in front of a golden shimmering mirror resting against the wall.

From this angle, Mo XuanYu can only see Meng Yao’s legs up to the back of his knees and he imagines what his expression must be like as he stares at himself, after dealing with their hard-to-please father. Still, Meng Yao has far more patience than Mo XuanYu thinks he would have, if their positions were swapped.

But then the strangest, most unbelievable thing happens.

Mo XuanYu is so focused on remaining hidden that he almost misses the moment Meng Yao walks into the mirror and disappears behind it.

It's bizarre. It's such a surreal thing to happen and it makes Mo XuanYu blink very fast as he tries to process what he just saw. For a few seconds, he just lies there in stunned disbelief. There's no way that happened, right? How could anybody walk into a solid reflective surface and not smush their nose in the act?

What the actual fuck??

But this is his only chance to leave without being discovered.

He can't leave the key now, or come back and pretend that he doesn't know anything about that giant fucking golden mirror, because Meng Yao’s bizarrely accurate intuition will alert him, and Mo XuanYu isn't confident enough of his acting abilities to be calm and aloof about it. He has doubts that he can behave the same as before. His mind is on repeat with the same three words: what the fuck?

“Come on, man!” he mutters under his breath to himself, willing his legs to move. “Get up before he comes back!” That does it, and Mo XuanYu is scrambling to his feet and hightailing it out of there as fast as he can.

He knows that there aren't any cameras watching Meng Yao’s rooms so it's easy to double back and take another route to his own room. His legs are wobbly and shaking, and he's trembling all over. Mo XuanYu staggers to his bed. He has to lie down first before he can do anything normal like change his clothes.

He replays what he saw again and again in his mind, but it doesn't make it more believable. How is it possible that a solid hard object like that mirror is really a door to somewhere else? In the grand scheme of things, it's a genius item to have. Where the hell did Meng Yao get something like that, and does Jin Guangshan know about it? Probably not. Meng Yao wouldn't give up something that valuable easily.

Mo XuanYu wonders what is behind it, where it leads and what other secrets it is hiding. What a stroke of luck that he was in the prime position to see Meng Yao use it, otherwise he never would have thought it possible that such an ordinary, day-to-day item of furniture could exist. Or hold such a huge secret.

Mo XuanYu sits up and opens a fresh bottle of water, chugging it down. The feeling of the cold liquid running down the inside of his chest is what snaps him back into his own body. It grounds him, bringing back the sense of reality that was so obviously missing after his shock. He roots around in his bedside cabinet until he finds a piece of chocolate and he carefully bites a tiny bit of the corner, savouring the rich, sweet smooth texture. Sugar is supposed to be excellent for curing shocks.

He remembers the first time he ever bought himself a bar of it, after earning his weekly wages looking after people's gardens. He had run all the way home just so he could share it with his mother. But twelve year old Mo XuanYu couldn't understand why this small act made his mother cry. Half melted in his tightly clenched fist, it was an indulgence they could barely afford, and yet it became one of the fondest memories of his childhood. With his mother. She had carefully divided it into six pieces and they both ate a piece each, though his mother tried to give up her share.

The sugar rush restores Mo XuanYu’s strength, and he gets up to change into his pyjamas.

He's just putting away his clothes when there's a knock on his door. Mo XuanYu quickly messes up his bed so it looks rumpled, and runs a hand through his short hair to make it seem like he just got up. Carefully, he half closes his eyes to make it seem as if he's just woken up. Then he opens his door.

It's Meng Yao, holding out his hand.

“A-Yu!” he says admonishingly, “I thought I told you to return the key immediately, as soon as you were done with it.”

“Oh, sorry, Ge,” Mo XuanYu yawns, keeping the door open as he turns around to fetch the damn key. “I didn't even notice it was still here. I would have dropped it off tomorrow morning.”

“I won't be here. Remember? Father is sending me to the Cloud Recesses.” Meng Yao informs him, as if Mo XuanYu hadn't been present when he'd been the one to suggest it.

“Oh…yeah.” Mo XuanYu smiles at him through sleepy eyes, hoping it comes off sweetly.

“A-Yu, you must pay better attention to your surroundings,” Meng Yao tells him off gently. “You will never make our father proud if you don't!”

“Sorry, Ge. I'll do better,” he promises, injecting as much sincerity into the words as he can. “Besides, I have you to look after me.”

“Hmm. Did you manage to find everything you wanted?”

Thankfully, Mo XuanYu has the wherewithal to remember the catacombs and his original mission. “I think so. I'll go over my notes tomorrow and let you know.” He yawns again and stretches up for good measure.

“Alright. Then I'll see you when I see you.” Meng Yao tilts his head and turns around to leave.

Mo XuanYu watches his back until Meng Yao is no longer visible. It's better if he thinks Mo XuanYu is incompetent or forgetful - that way, they'll never see him coming.

But parts of the overheard conversation return to him as he closes his bedroom door. He leans back against it, lost in thought.

What is the mysterious item his father wants? What are they hoping the cauldron contains?

Tomorrow, when there's no chance of being discovered, Mo XuanYu will find a way to investigate that mirror in Meng Yao’s room. He doesn't know what's behind it, but now more than ever, he wants to find out.

Chapter Text

Lan Zhan tentatively touches the first piece of metal, hesitant because of his last experience. But when nothing happens to him, his confidence grows.

Whatever was powering the curse array on the lid seems to have dissipated, Lan Zhan realises, as he begins to gather the broken pieces of the cauldron lid together. He has to watch out for the sharpest parts but he's otherwise unaffected by the curse array. He makes a pile of them in one place, deciding to piece them together correctly later on. Right now with his body aching so much, all he wants to do is lie down, but he can't. Not when the room is trashed. There's a part of him that just cannot tolerate a mess, no matter how bad he's feeling. 

It seems to take forever to gather up the papers of his research, and then he stuffs them into the trunk without sorting through them or putting them in any kind of order. That's further evidence of him reaching his limit. They are definitely a later problem. He picks up his sleeping bag and shakes it out before laying it flat once more. Crawling inside, he closes his eyes, hoping to talk to Wei Ying again.

********************

A few hours later, Lan Zhan is woken by a noise. It sounds very much like a pen scratching over paper. He sits up immediately, scared that someone has entered the Jingshi without his permission. If anyone discovers his subterfuge, it will all be over for him. Not only will his uncle be sorely disappointed with his deception, but XiChen and Meng Yao will have the advantage again, and XiChen might see it as an unforgivable action.

Lan Zhan listens carefully, holding his breath, but there is nothing unusual about what he hears. The steady hum of the kitchen appliances above, mingles with the natural creaking of an old building. However, they are accompanied by that newer sound, a vibration that permeates the air all around him. It's a thrumming sound like white noise. He still doesn't know what it is but it feels significantly important. 

He deduces that he's alone, and that fact brings him comfort. He is safe for now. 

But he did not manage to see Wei Ying in his dream, and he wonders whether this was because his rest was too short. Usually, he sleeps for longer and his dreams begin nearer the time he wakes up; at least, that's what it feels like. Is it possible to miss someone who might not be real? This much?

In his hurry to rest, Lan Zhan had left the lights on. He looks around and is shocked enough to scramble out of the sleeping bag, and over to the pile of metal he had dumped in one place. Except…it is no longer haphazardly strewn about. The pieces have been put together almost perfectly were it not for the fact that some were deformed by the explosion of energy. He recalls what Wei Ying had told him: that blood, the ultimate life force, was a powerful conductor of energy. In connection with curses, could it have the power to undo or put into action whatever the curse was designed to do? It certainly seems likely, in view of the aftermath of the energy surge.

Lan Zhan thinks whatever it was, was responsible for the power outage too.

But the day has only brought forth more questions. If Lan Zhan’s whereabouts haven't been compromised, and he cannot detect the presence of another, who put the curse array pieces in order? How is that even possible? Lan Zhan knows for a fact that he hadn't done it before falling asleep. Of this, he's absolutely certain.

Which means someone else did it. But who? And, friend or foe? 

He is unhurt, so that makes him lean towards the friend part, but he needs to make sure there's no one else in his home.

A quick search of the upstairs confirms his suspicion. His home is as he left it on the first day, so no one has entered it except himself. 

So, that makes this an impossible puzzle. 

Like one of those closed room murders, Lan Zhan feels like he can't solve it without further information. The best thing to do is to focus on what he can do, which is to study the curse array now that it is intact again, and commit it to memory, ready for Wei Ying to investigate. He wants to be prepared for their next meeting. All the uncertainty about this situation is frustrating to him, but Lan Zhan tells himself to have patience, to put aside everything he knows in favour of trusting himself. Whatever happens, he will get to the bottom of this.

He goes to the desk and then nearly falls over in shock. 

On the blank piece of paper, next to the pen, there's a clear message:

“Lan Zhan! It's me! Wei Ying!”

How? 

The characters are not what he's used to reading, but they make sense because they're mostly names and those haven't changed much over the years. But even if this is Wei Ying, then where is he? How on earth has he managed to do this?

Lan Zhan looks around wildly, completely stunned. Is he going crazy? How is this possible? 

He makes himself sit down by the desk before he falls down, and his hands are trembling as he reaches for the paper. He reads it again, disbelievingly. This proves that Wei Ying is real…but then, how had he done this? Is he a ghost? Does he have a solid body? Otherwise, how could he have lifted up the pen to actually write? It's impossible. 

Ghosts are…well, there was a time that Lan Zhan would have said with absolute certainty that they did not exist. He did not want to believe in something he couldn't see. But what are ghosts if not conscious beings without a corporeal body? What if they can exist on another plane of living? Lan Zhan thinks back on a documentary he had once seen, explaining the existence of X-rays and gamma rays. The person had shown the viewers a rainbow made by a prism and refracted light. They then went on to prove that there were several colours, rays invisible to the naked eye that were very much present even if they couldn't be seen, on either side of the visible colour spectrum.

What if that same theory could explain the existence of ghosts? Just because Lan Zhan couldn't see them, specifically Wei Ying, that did not mean he didn't exist! Wei Ying had said that Lan Zhan would have wanted to keep him safe, and where better than inside himself? But if Wei Ying only existed in Lan Zhan’s mind, that cannot be the truth because, unless Lan Zhan can write in his sleep, the evidence is before him.

His fingers trace the characters gently, going over everything he has learned so far.

Lan Zhan is a recorder of history, and he has always looked for proof when writing down his theories; he puts that habit to work now in order to make sense of it all. Thinking back to when his life changed completely, he starts writing down a list of events to help him find the truth.

Everything started with the arrival of Meng Yao and Mo XuanYu. But nothing of significance changed until Lan Zhan went to Yiling and touched the cauldron, and he would say he was compelled to do it. What is unclear, is whether that was by external forces or his own consciousness. There's no point in dwelling on that, so he swiftly moves on. But the cauldron seems to be at the centre of his problem. 

Next, bringing it to the Cloud Recesses and the continuous dreams he was subjected to. The appearance of Wei Ying’s form, albeit just in his mind, led to further discoveries. After that, the obvious mistake of spilling his own blood on top of the curse array which led to the explosion of energy. Lan Zhan is still in shocked awe that something so small could cause such a huge impact. They still don't know who created the curse array and who it was intended for.

In a sense, Lan Zhan has already started working with Wei Ying in order to solve the mystery of the cauldron. Therefore, it is imperative that they find out what the curse on top of the lid was meant to do. That is the key, and maybe once they figure that out, everything else will become that much clearer. 

Decision made, Lan Zhan picks up the low table with his writing supplies on it, and moves closer to the now put together circular crude jigsaw puzzle: the cauldron lid. He sits down next to it and begins again the meticulous task of copying out each character in the same sequence, exactly in the identical position that it has been carved out on the metal of the lid. This way, he will be able to see if he missed anything from doing the same off the photos in Meng Yao’s phone, and make further notes next to each character as to their possible meanings.

He draws out the four circles like he did in the dream he shared with Wei Ying. He gets the feeling that each circle represents something yet to be discovered. He copies down the characters for each of the directions: Bei, Nan, Dongfang, and Xi. North, South, East and West. They are written on the same compass points. Then the ones that Wei Ying had recognised: siwang meaning death, and the other characters that signified time, or chance he had speculated, and memory loss, or the action of letting something slip from one's memory.

But there are other characters here that are unknown. Lan Zhan stares at them, wondering about what they could mean. Who would have cast such a horrible curse on someone? The full meaning isn't clear but it is apparent that someone wanted someone else to forget something, to the point of death, and possibly, for forever. At least, that's one possible theory. Even looking at the curse array openly gives Lan Zhan an awful shiver; to be faced with something created specifically to cause someone harm is like staring at something inherently evil. It should not exist. 

Culturally, Lan Zhan knows that the universe is made of balancing opposing energies. Everything has an opposite, a mirror image of itself, if you will. Like Yin and Yang, black and white, good and evil. Theoretically, he is aware that bad people exist. But faced with the irrefutable proof of malicious intent is a bit of an eye-opener.

As Lan Zhan stares at the other characters, they start looking awfully familiar. Where has he seen these before? Why does he feel like he's missing something incredibly important? The more he looks at them, the more the feeling grows.

Chapter Text

It is usually easy to avoid everyone in Koi Tower, Mo XuanYu thinks. So why, on the day when he really wants to remain invisible, does everyone and their mother want to see him?

The place is so big, not only the main building but its grounds and the outlying offices and residential areas mean that in the past, he's managed to go days without seeing either his dad or his half siblings, no matter how numerous they are. And he knows it's going to be a shitty day when the first thing he must do is have breakfast with the family. A servant comes to take him from his room, and since Mo XuanYu is hungry, he sees nothing wrong with this until it's too late.

Jin Guangshan is an awful man. Mo XuanYu knows this to his core, and yet his Sperm Donor never fails to drive this home, time and time again. Today, he's sitting at the head of a long table that could easily accommodate fifty people with room to spare. On either side of him are two stunningly attractive, beautiful women. But as Mo XuanYu has come to realise, beauty and brains are not a match made in Heaven. It is rare to find both qualities in singular individuals, and he tries not to roll his eyes as he shrinks in his seat. His half brothers and sisters are trading verbal insults already, which is a shame because Mo XuanYu believes in the strength of numbers; if they actually worked together, they would achieve something better. 

As he's trying to eat as fast as he can, whilst not drawing any unnecessary attention to himself, the most self important man here addresses Mo XuanYu.

“A-Yu, what did you do yesterday?” Jin Guangshan asks him, with a drawl. One of his women holds a bunch of grapes above his mouth, just out of reach, and they both giggle at the game of it as Jin Guangshan tries to bite her fingers.

Just…ew.

“I'll make a report,” Mo XuanYu tells him. It's too much to hope that this is the end of the conversation. 

“You know, you're not bad looking,” Jin Guangshan continues.

Mo XuanYu doesn't like where this is going.

“You can take a page out of A-Yao's book and seduce Lan WangJi,” he suggests, grabbing the wrist of his newest acquisition. She laughs, letting him bite her there. “They say he's an ice prince, frigid, unfeeling. But if you play your cards right, he might open up to you. Once you're in, you'll have access to whatever he finds out.” Jin Guangshan wiggles his eyebrows lasciviously. “It's not a bad strategy.”

Mo XuanYu quickly shakes his head. “He's too professional. He wouldn't want to mix business and um…pleasure,” he forces himself to say. It's a terrible idea. 

The thing is, Lan WangJi is an interesting person. Not only is he extremely good eye-candy, a hot potato on a stick, but after what happened in Yiling and him wanting to reach out to the grieving families of the kids who perished in the Burial Mounds, Mo XuanYu has learned to respect him as a sincere mentor as well. It would be a lie to say he wasn't attracted to the man, because only someone immune to his beauty could claim that. But Mo XuanYu's own father is a direct and perfect example of why one should be careful who they sleep with. 

Mo XuanYu has a good sense of who he is and enough self preservation not to pursue such an avenue of interest. Plus, despite his initial misgivings about this mission, he actually likes Lan WangJi for his integrity and attention to detail. Not only that, but Mo XuanYu has changed. Something in between the time he's gotten to know the Twin Jades as they're called, has made him want to aspire to be like them. He wants to know the satisfaction earned by doing something of worth, just for the sake of it. They've shown him another side of human nature, qualities worth aiming for and achieving. 

Isn't that a better way to live?

What's worse is that he knows he's not going to find any of those meaningful things here.

“....know until you try,” Jin Guangshan is telling him. “Mixing business with pleasure is the best way to get to know someone, and Lan WangJi is a case in point.” He nods knowingly, and then one of his girlfriends decides to climb into his lap.

Mo XuanYu stands up, making sure he looks contrite enough. He tilts his head to show the adequate amount of respect and makes his excuses, leaving as soon as he can. But no matter how hard he tries, he cannot erase the bitterness in his mind. 

Jin Guangshan is a controlling prick. It's clear that he sees Mo XuanYu as a tool, nothing more. However much he doesn't like that, for now it serves his purpose well and Mo XuanYu can't complain about that.

******************

Meng Yao’s room looks the same as it did yesterday. But Mo XuanYu feels even more nervous than he did last night when he was scared of being seen. Maybe it's the daylight throwing the room into clarity, or maybe it's because he knows he shouldn't be here and it's the threat of getting caught that's stressing him out. It's definitely worse than yesterday. 

This receiving room is a little more tastefully decorated than the white and gold one favoured by their father. The walls are still gold, but the rich, plush carpet is as burgundy as the velvet curtains held out of the way with golden rope bindings. The leather sofa is a calming creamy shade, the witness to his crime of seeking refuge last night. And right in front of him stands the mirror. It's taller than himself and as wide as a door, and Mo XuanYu, who has been here twice before, wonders why he's never thought of it as such. But it's such a clever deception, isn't it? 

The ornate gold frame is carved with runes and characters that Mo XuanYu has never noticed before and he gathers all of his courage as he steps towards it. He fully expects to hurt himself so he extends a finger to touch the surface of the shimmering glass and then suddenly, he's falling through the obscure doorway into a stone chamber. 

He looks back in disbelief, hardly believing his eyes. 

But the mirror is right there, reflecting the contents of the room he has now entered. It is spectacularly two ways. When he was standing in Meng Yao’s room, it showed his receiving room instead.

Lights embedded into the thick walls automatically turn on behind him, illuminating his surroundings. 

Mo XuanYu turns around to face the secret room. 

A long stained metal table lies in front of him, higher than normal. Steel chains hang off its sides with thick leather straps, heavy iron buckles welded onto it. Dark, murky patches in uneven shades are spread all over it. Mo XuanYu tries not to think about whatever those stains are. He makes himself look away towards the side but that's even worse. There's a bare wooden frame attached to the wall, extending above the table. Hanging off large hooks are all manner of tools and instruments, sharp, cruel-looking and some of them blunt. 

Mo XuanYu feels like he's trapped inside a nightmare of pain and suffering. What he's looking at, this is unquestionably a torture chamber. It might even still be in use. And the worst part is, it belongs to his half brother, a person who Mo XuanYu had stopped trusting but was in no way prepared to see this and be able to link it to him. 

Meng Yao knows this place exists. Mo XuanYu saw him enter it.

Meng Yao might even have used the secret chamber for this purpose. To extract information out of unwilling individuals. 

Mo XuanYu shakes himself from his horrible thoughts and pulls out his phone. There's no way anyone is going to believe him if he tells them what he's seen. Photographic proof is the only way to go, but his heart hurts at having to disclose this to Lan XiChen. This discovery is going to traumatise more than one person. 

Even worse than that, if anyone discovers that Mo XuanYu has these pictures, and has shared them with others, then his own life will also be in danger. But someone has to do it. Someone has to expose this brutality, this savage practice of violence. 

So Mo XuanYu gets to work. He takes closeups, distance pictures, and a video to scan the whole room. He wonders if there are any security measures in place. Meng Yao is a cautious man, and his love of technology and being in control was experienced by Mo XuanYu when they brought Lan WangJi and Lan XiChen to Yiling. But maybe Meng Yao thought the obscurity of the mirror in his room was enough to conceal its contents. Who can say, except for the man himself? 

This just means he must be thorough in whatever he's cataloguing. Mo XuanYu is only going to get this one chance to get proof, and he's not about to fuck it up.

Pushing past the table and trying not to throw up is a feat Mo XuanYu will always be proud of. He goes to a shelf covered by a black cloth with red markings on it. Whatever is behind this flimsy barrier must be important, he thinks, as goosebumps erupt all over his arms. It's not the creepy signs on the black silk, or the medieval weapons designed to frighten even the hardiest of warriors. There's a vibe, a deeply dark energy emanating from this area. Mo XuanYu takes a deep breath and yanks it aside.

There are four documents. These parchment papers are laminated for preservation. 

One is a detailed study on the Yin Hufu. The second one has a diagram of how to make one, though some details seem to be missing, and some paragraphs are entirely scratched out. This writing is neat and clear, making Mo XuanYu certain that these documents were not written by the Yiling Laozu. Wei WuXian's writing was notoriously bad, and he's seen enough examples to recognise it. There's also a drawing of two iron tiger heads facing one another. It's surprisingly detailed, the stripes and the tails clearly carved in the hard metal of what must have been an original sighting of the real thing.

He's never seen the Yin Hufu before. That's what this is, the Tiger Tally.

Mo XuanYu takes proper pictures of both of these documents. 

But the third parchment paper is wholly different. It is a Flame array and Mo XuanYu knows what it is immediately. His interest lies in curses and spells, the fascination born from wanting to cast them on merciless bullies himself. Furthermore, they attracted him because of the theoretical ease of casting them; in times of old, one did not need to possess a strong golden core in order to cast them, even the most powerfully maleficent ones like the Hundred Hole curse. Sure, that one had a rebound on the caster, but if you hated your enemy enough, then it was a small price to pay. “I won't live at the cost of cursing you, but I get to watch you suffer AND die” type of thinking.

This Flame array is one of those really bad ones. Ones you wanted to be sure of before casting, just in case there was a mistake. And it's pretty simple: Death to the one it is cast upon.

As far as Mo XuanYu knows, this is the one curse with no antidote, no cure, no remedy. No counteraction exists to nullify this one. Once it is cast, the person who is unfortunate enough to fall under its power will die, no question about it. It is similar to the Hundred Hole curse in its lethality. 

So…why is it here? In a warded area, hidden away in a secret room, stored with the details of the Yin Hufu.

Suddenly, pieces of broken conversations come together in his mind, slotting together to form a clear picture. Last night, his Sperm Donor and Meng Yao discussed Lan WangJi finding something, and then Jin Guangshan had all but promised him the keys to his kingdom if Meng Yao ensured whatever it was came directly to him. Meng Yao is so greedy for any scraps of affection from their loser of a father that he'll do anything to get it. But how far will he go? Is he willing to sacrifice his relationship, and the man he loves for a filial love that isn't sincere?

It's as obvious as the sun rising in the East, that the Jins want the Yin Hufu. They are probably expecting it to be contained within the cauldron found in the Demon Subduing Cave because that's the last known place that the Yiling Laozu was rumoured to be.

Ancient China's history is so rich and varied, but the Sunshot Campaign stands out as a particularly terrible time of greed and ambition. Thus it is subject to many rumours and myths pertaining to the winners and the losers. But history has a way of distorting the truth, hiding it with cloaks and daggers, lies covering up secrets that others would kill for. 

Mo XuanYu has heard so many different takes on the Yiling Laozu and the things he invented. Yes, the Yin Hufu was his most powerful weapon, and the reason why the Four Allies won the war against the Wens. But some say that the Yiling Laozu went power-crazy in the end and was eaten up by the resentment caused by the other sects rejecting him and his unorthodox path. Others say that he destroyed the Yin Hufu because he was afraid of it falling into the wrong hands. Mo XuanYu had even read a few lines in an old account that spoke of Wei WuXian losing control of the ghosts that followed him around, and they were the ones to destroy him and his weapon. 

But nowhere does it say that the Yin Hufu was kept safe.

So what is the truth about it? And who designed this Flame array? Who was it intended to kill? And how come it's here? And more importantly, are these two separate things connected? 

He wonders whether or not Jin Guangshan is counting on Lan WangJi's ignorance pertaining to the Yin Hufu. If that's so, then it borders on stupidity because Lan WangJi is known to have spent most of his career up until now studying the life and times of the Yiling Laozu. Like two fingers twisted together, the Yiling Laozu and the Yin Hufu are two names forever connected, entwined. One did not exist without the other.

Mo XuanYu takes more pictures, aware that his time is running out. He has to leave here as soon as possible and reach Lan WangJi in Wuhan. He'll send these pictures to only him for now; he's only too aware of how dangerous Meng Yao really is. If he even suspects for a moment that Mo XuanYu is not on his side, there's a real chance that the next person to experience the hospitality of this room will be himself, and Mo XuanYu is nothing if not a survivor. He's never coming back to Lanling if he can help it.

Chapter Text

After staring at the curse array for what feels like an age, Lan Zhan is no closer to solving its meaning than he was in the morning. Now he has another job to do. The contents of the cauldron are where they fell last night, and Lan Zhan knows he's procrastinating, but it feels impossible for him to go near them. Perhaps his first experience of touching the cauldron and knocking himself out, coupled with the explosion that happened because of his blood falling on the lid has marked the artefact as supremely volatile in his head, and so his subconscious is aiming to protect him from it. That's easily understandable.

He looks at his phone, which has remained surprisingly quiet. Not one message or update is there, not even the usual time-wasting notifications. Hmm, that IS odd. Lan Zhan checks his settings and finds nothing wrong with it; the WiFi is fine and the Internet connection is strong. His data package also appears to be working. But there's a conspicuous drought of messages, and he recalls XiChen demanding daily updates. In fact, because it's the evening of the second day that Lan Zhan is supposed to be in Wuhan, it's probably time that Lan Zhan sent him a message. Also, he's wondering if Mo XuanYu has found anything of substance. Surely, the young man must have found something to tell them, or even the lack of findings should be reported. In an investigation such as this, communication is vital.

Maybe…and this is a stretch, but what if messages can't get through to Lan Zhan down here? It's definitely worth investigating so Lan Zhan climbs up the steps to his bedroom and sends a message to his brother. He waits for the ticks to turn blue…and he waits and he waits. Then he frowns at his phone. Shakes it a bit. Nothing changes.

That is the oddest thing. Usually, XiChen always checks his messages, especially if it's Lan Zhan sending them. Something is wrong.

Lan Zhan goes into the kitchen staring at his phone but the ticks remain frustratingly grey. All of his previous messages have blue ticks on them, and his last message was to the Powerpuff Girls group chat, when he wished everyone a good night. His stomach has a pavlovian response to being in a food preparation area so Lan Zhan heats up a precooked meal and eats it quickly, all the while concentrating on the phone screen. After he tidies up putting away everything he used, he peeks outside. Night falls early in the mountains and it has been dark for a while now.

That's good because Lan Zhan intends to go outside. He steps out of the porch and retraces his steps to the shed where the generator is kept. It's working fine so no problem there. And then, Lan Zhan notices a curious lack of sound.

There's nothing. It's so silent, he can hear his own heart beating.

No birds in the trees, though he can clearly see the ravens and crows sitting on empty branches from here…and he's never known them to be so quiet. There's no whispering winds in the trees even while the leaves move, he can see them moving but the expected rustling is…not forthcoming. This quietness is the strangest thing he's ever encountered. It just doesn't make any sense. A void of vacuous silence.

Has Lan Zhan ruptured an ear drum? But if that were true, then he wouldn't have heard the noises of the fridge door opening and closing, the water coming from the pipes in the sink and gushing away down the drain, or the chink of cutlery returning to the drawer.

Lan Zhan glances at the sack of bird feed he's left on the porch. He should feed his black-feathered friends, that's why he bought it. He goes back to the porch and grabs a handful of seeds and nuts and flings them out to the space in front of the Jingshi. They hit an invisible barrier and ricochet right back at him, and Lan Zhan’s arms instinctively fly up to protect his face.

What. The. Fuck?

His arms come down slowly as he stares right in front of him. He can't see anything different, nothing seems to have changed but when he looks down, the evidence is right there. The bird feed is littering the ground, far too close to his feet. What just happened?

Lan Zhan walks forward slowly, his palms up and facing outwards. So many strange, inexplicable things have happened to him in these past few days that he's reached the end of his tether. What's one more crazy thing to add to the list, right?

The ability to explain away anything has completely left him, and he thinks he's finally lost it. He's gone insane.

Maybe that's the way to go. Maybe that's the only way left, to put aside things like science and physics and bloody common sense, and just accept every weird thing that happens to him, every mad reality-defying thing that occurs. He's breathless with it, of letting go of the pressure he was putting on himself to come up with a plausible explanation for the last few days.

As his hands touch something, something oddly jelly-like, he passes through it breaking out to a multitude of sounds.

Straight away, his ears are assaulted by the sudden disturbance of ravens and crows as they take to the skies, flying all around him in a curiously welcoming action. Lan Zhan feels no threat from them and he closes his eyes when their gentle feathers flutter around his face. A caress, careful and tender. They're quiet too, no loud cawing as if they don't want to draw attention to themselves. They make noises, more like clicks and chirrups and inquisitive sounds, as if they're asking him if he's okay.

At the same time, Lan Zhan’s phone begins beeping, the notifications going off incessantly, one after another.

When the wings stop fluttering, Lan Zhan opens his eyes to find his friends awkwardly standing on the ground in front of him, like soldiers awaiting their general's command.

“You must be hungry,” he says, surprising himself. It's true, if he was also hungry just now.

He turns around and for a second, he's scared he won't be allowed back in, that the strangely flexible barrier will not grant him access now that he's on the wrong side of it…but he's mistaken. As easily as he came out, Lan Zhan goes back through it and takes notice of the silence again, a blanket on his senses. It wraps around his ears like a warm scarf, simultaneously comforting but also giving him a sense of unease. He retrieves one of the bags of bird feed and returns to his friends, who are hopping about comically, watching him with their dark, shining eyes.

Only the dim glow of the rising moon and the scattered stars show their shadowy forms, the university too far away to lend any light to see by.

“Thank you for keeping me company,” Lan Zhan tells them, crouching and gently scattering the seeds and nuts lower across the ground so as not to hurt them.

One of the ravens hops closer to him, ignoring the feast he's set out for them. It bumps its head on Lan Zhan’s forearm and then ducks under it to nudge his knee. Lan Zhan doesn't know what to do but he gently strokes its back with a finger. These are wild animals and he is aware of this, but compassion wins out. Every creature deserves affection, he thinks, as it chirps excitedly back at him. Like a cat demanding love, this raven with its super soft fluffy feathers is demanding more pets, butting his palm with its head persistently until Lan Zhan gives in with a huff. He makes himself comfortable and sits cross-legged; the raven takes it as a sign of welcome and hops into his lap to snuggle down. It's impossible not to feel something for these gorgeous birds, kings of the night skies and the Guardians of the Underworld.

Studying history and the many stories, myths and legends based on these magnificent creatures, Lan Zhan feels sorrow for the way they have been portrayed. Seen as bringers of doom, heralds of some calamity or other, they've been victims of bad press.

Sitting this close to them, Lan Zhan can see the differences between the two kinds of birds. The crows are smaller but just as beautiful, however, their beaks are narrow and a little pointed compared to the rounded arch of the raven beaks. And they all seem to have different personalities. Some of them are downright playful, some annoyed, just like humans, and others quietly eating, keeping a watchful eye on the youngsters. What is clear is that they're all part of a team, a family unit, with the older members making sure the younger ones feed too.

Lan Zhan knows he shouldn't spend too much time out here in case his cover is blown, but he's missed the outdoors, chilly though it is. The air is sharp with the threat of frost but his fingers aren't numb yet. Besides, he's got messages to check.

With one hand still stroking the soft downy feathers on his newest friend's head, Lan Zhan uses his free hand to fish out his phone and scroll to the conversation with his brother.

XiChen favours long messages, so while there aren't many, they are extensive and detailed. Lan Zhan is shocked to read about the power cut affecting the whole of the Cloud Recesses and relieved to know that the issue has been resolved now. But then XiChen tells him about his walk with Meng Yao, and says that Meng Yao wanted to check on the Jingshi but then they were subjected to a wild and random attack by the crows and ravens.

Lan Zhan looks up at them then, and it feels like they know he's reading about them. He's actually comforted by the fact that they gathered to protect his home from unwelcome guests. And although Lan Zhan prefers dialogue over violence, in this at least, he feels validated on his hatred of Meng Yao as well as a kinship with his feathered friends. But he hopes his brother wasn't harmed.

“Thank you for looking after my home,” he tells them sincerely. Once he reads on and finds out that XiChen was virtually untouched but Meng Yao was significantly affected, not hurt but definitely shit upon, he actually smiles at his friends. “My brother is innocent,” he tells them.

One raven hops towards him, a single caw like a question coming from it. Lan Zhan hopes he's correctly interpreting the sound when he replies. “My brother and my uncle are not to be harmed. Similarly, anyone who is innocent must be left alone. But Meng Yao? You can shit on him as much as you like.”

This time when they all cry out, it's as if they're laughing. They are the unlikeliest of allies but Lan Zhan is ever so grateful for their help.

XiChen's last message was just seconds after the one Lan Zhan sent him, which confirms his suspicion that the weird barrier is stopping all signals from getting to him. It's an easily navigable problem so he's not worried. Lan Zhan replies with a yes to his question asking if everything is alright with him.

But now that it's getting much later, Lan Zhan feels exposed out here and thinks it is time to go back inside. He bends to kiss the fluffy head of his pal and gently lifts it up to put it down gently. The raven (baby?) squawks in protest at losing the warmth, and Lan Zhan apologises. He stands up and after a second thought, bows to all of them before going back inside.

Then as he's going back into his bedroom, he opens the chat with Mo XuanYu, wondering why he didn't send his messages into the Powerpuff Girls group instead. But what he sees shakes him to his core. He sits down heavily on his bed and begins to read.

Chapter Text

Mo XuanYu takes one last look around his room in Koi Tower. He's packed everything he could possibly need and carry; everything else left behind out of necessity isn't important enough for him to worry about. However, he can't take too much either; it would draw attention to him and that's the last thing he wants.

He's never coming back here again, not while his abominable father and despicable brother are still alive. He's done with waiting around for someone to bring them to justice. He's realised now, that the ‘someone’ in that scenario is none other than himself. 

He's still dazed after his discoveries inside the room behind the mirror. Suspended in a state of disbelief, he keeps pinching himself to make sure he's awake and that this isn't some awful nightmare. This day started off awfully from the get-go - the terrible family breakfast at ten to the hours spent cataloguing each secret hidden away in that place - and now, late in the evening, Mo XuanYu feels as if he can't spend another night under this horrific roof. He just wants to get away from here. Maybe give himself some space and time to absorb and process what he's seen.

He hefts the backpack over one shoulder and pulls the wheelie suitcase with him as he leaves, not bothering to lock the door behind him. After this, he wants nothing to do with the Jins, but he's aware that it probably won't be the case. He still has to report back to his father and Meng Yao. 

He's never been as glad as he is now that he hasn't taken that name for himself. 

He hopes he doesn't run into any of his remaining siblings. They're sure to ask him where he's going, showing a perfunctory interest until he mentions work and that's when their eyes would glaze over with boredom. Mo XuanYu reaches the glaringly white and gold foyer of the entrance hall, and he's just about to step outside of the front doors when the voice he least wants to hear, calls him back.

Jin Guangshan stands a few feet away, his cunning eyes carefully dissecting Mo XuanYu's appearance. 

“Leaving?” He drags the words out, his dark expression now interested.

“Yes, Sir. Wuhan.” Mo XuanYu keeps his gaze down, fearful his own eyes will betray his loathing of this utterly reprehensible man.

“Oh?” Jin Guangshan waits for more but Mo XuanYu can be just as stubborn. 

Besides, he isn't willing to give anything more than he has to.

The tense silence grows. 

“Any developments?” Jin Guangshan's eyebrow twitches with irritation at having to ask for clarification. 

“I'm not sure. Lan WangJi has asked me to go there. Maybe he's found out something more about Wei WuXian.” Mo XuanYu is careful to keep things vague and unclear. He's spent enough time in shark-infested waters not to bleed even by mistake. “But you're right. I should be with Lan WangJi.” 

It's the right thing to say to someone who loves having his ego boosted.

“Yes, hmm. Experience is what makes a leader,” Jin Guangshan preens, chest jutting out that bit further. 

The door behind him opens and Mo XuanYu has to avert his eyes because one of the ladies from that morning's breakfast meeting exits the reception hall, quickly pulling her sheer kimono style robe closed once she realised Jin Guangshan wasn't alone. That doesn't stop her from draping herself all over his back while her lips find the folds on the side of his neck.

As horrible as this interruption is, Mo XuanYu is so grateful for it. “Uh, I'll leave first,” he murmurs, already inching towards the door.

Luckily, Jin Guangshan possesses the attention span of a goldfish, ironically. He's turning away with a wave of his hand and grabbing the waist of his latest conquest. 

Mo XuanYu is out of there faster than a bat out of hell.

********************

It's the beginning of March and Wuhan is already hot and humid. Mo XuanYu has gotten Luo QingYang's contact details from XiChen but since she's not answering, he has booked himself a hotel for now. He has a vague idea of where she works but it's late at night now, and he's tired. Weirdly, there's been no response from Lan WangJi either, so he's at a loose end. The only good thing about today is that he's as far away from Linyi and his father as possible.

Mo XuanYu checks into his hotel and when he slides into his bed, he's asleep before his head hits the pillow.

*******************

Luo QingYang wakes up to a worrying message from Lan WangJi. His intern, Mo XuanYu is arriving in Wuhan imminently, and there is the very real danger of his cover being blown. But Lan WangJi has left it up to her to decide whether to blow him off and keep the deception going or bring him into their confidence. He's also shared harrowing images, photographic proof that Koi Tower is more fucked up than she initially thought. Since those photos and the additional evidence of hidden parchments and artefacts was shared by this Mo XuanYu, she's fifty percent sure they can trust him. 

When she sees the missed calls from the same guy last night, she contacts her work people to organise a personal day and then she leaves him a voice message to meet in a quiet cafe where they won't be disturbed. Better to err on the side of caution and get a sense of who he is before she trusts him and finds out too late that it was a mistake. 

She's sitting at a table outside, under the shade of an umbrella, when she spots him, a young man uncertain in his steps. There's nothing obvious about his appearance that makes him stand out to her; it's more of a feeling. His cautious glances towards the cafe are her first warning, followed by his eyes landing on her and when she meets them, they both know who the other is without any introduction. 

“Let's go inside,” she says curtly, standing up and doing exactly that without checking to see if he's following her.

The cafe has a warm vibe, dimly lit to give its patrons a sanctuary against the outside world with its many plants and foliage potted about the space and flower baskets hanging from the ceiling. The greenness offsets the dusky pink walls just so, a throwback to a forgotten era. The tables are covered with cheerful yellow and white gingham check cloths, coloured vases holding a single flower of different blooms on each one.

She knows the owner and there's a short wait until their pastries and drinks arrive; matcha tea over ice and a chocolate donut for her, a tall black Americano for Mo XuanYu with a croissant. He follows her to a table hidden in a nook, and ironically, the flower bobbing its head in the pink vase is a golden peony with blush pink petals. Its subtle fragrance is there but not overpowering. 

“Lan WangJi showed me the photos,” she jumps straight in with a low voice, pointedly looking around so he understands not to be loud.

Mo XuanYu gives her a short, sharp nod. “If it gets out about them…”

“Then you're fucked.” She finishes, with a bright grin belying the seriousness of the subject matter.

He nods again. “I need to talk to Professor Lan.”

“About the pictures? Or the documents?” Luo QingYang takes a big bite out of her treat.

“Both. The way I see it, there are two separate issues in front of me,” Mo XuanYu says. He's not eating his croissant; he pulls it apart slowly between long fingers and elegant thumbs, one flaky layer at a time. His skin shines with the residual butter. He appreciates that Luo QingYang is giving him time to gather his thoughts, but he's had the train journey from Linyi to Wuhan to plan his next steps. Now he just has to articulate them. “They're both connected, though.”

“Before you go any further, I need you to make a hard decision, and then stick with it. How you answer, or how you choose will factor in how I can help you.” Luo QingYang lets out a sigh of contentment after sipping her cold tea.

“Alright. Go ahead.”

“Tell me why I should trust you. Don't give me any lip service, any platitudes. Tell me honestly.”

“You want to know where my loyalties lie, right?”

“Smart cookie. For all I know, even if you're in danger,” her glance flickers towards his phone, “it might be a ruse to usurp your half brother.”

“Which one? There are so many,” Mo XuanYu quips, just as fast.

Luo QingYang sputters out some tea after taking an ill-timed sip of the green liquid. She wipes her mouth and the counter with a paper napkin. “You know who I mean. I don't want to say his name in case he's already got some kind of motion technology listening gadget fixated on it.”

“I wouldn't be surprised.” Mo XuanYu grins at her wryly. “But I also think you would know better than most which side I'm on.”

“Explain.”

“You used to work in Koi Tower, right?”

Luo QingYang masks her surprise by draining her glass. “What of it? Kudos for doing your homework, though.” She gives him a wink.

“Thanks. But I'm only mentioning it because I think you know how bad things were, before you left. Did you follow Jin ZiXuan here, or is it the other way around?” 

“Him leaving isn't a secret,” she replies, swiping a piece of his discarded pastry and popping it into her mouth.

“True. Ge is keeping tabs on him. And you.”

“Then why did you agree to meet with me? If you know we're being watched.”

Mo XuanYu waves a hand almost carelessly in the air. “This can be explained away since Professor Lan is staying with you. We can say that his work has brought us all together and I'm just here learning pointers from you. Mutual interest and all that.”

“You're cleverer than I gave you credit for,” she admits reluctantly. 

But those words make his smile disappear completely. “Honestly, I want to bring them down,” he says seriously. “Those pictures are connected to what Professor Lan is investigating, but they're also the ticket to putting Ge behind bars. I'm stuck when it comes to the Sperm Donor, though. He could claim ignorance and get off on a minor charge. But then he'll come after me with guns blazing.” Mo XuanYu tries and fails to suppress his shudder.

“Mo XuanYu…if you're truly choosing this path, you must understand. There will be no backing down. This isn't a game. Once you commit, you will have to see it through, all the way to the end whatever that looks like.” Luo QingYang can't get past the need to warn him. He's so young. Younger than she was when she left that accursed place.

His grey eyes are hard and without any amusement when he agrees. “I know. But there comes a time when you have to put aside personal care. Or feelings. I hate knowing that he's my father, that my mother saw something she liked in him. That they had a spark, enough to make me.” His face is full of disgust.

“Not necessarily,” Luo QingYang snorts, but her dark expression is telling when she looks away.

“What do you mean?” The question is as far from being casual as it can be.

She doesn't look at him when she answers. “When you were doing your research, did you find out why I left?”

“No. The notes were vague. Creative differences or something.”

“Lame,” she raises a hand to wave the server over. “Check please,” she tells him, and promptly pays for both of them before Mo XuanYu has time to pull out his wallet. “For this conversation, I need something stronger to drink.” She pauses to look him over. “Maybe we both do.”

When he nods, Luo QingYang takes him back to her apartment. 

*********************

Pepsi and vodka with a dash of lime.

That's what they decide on, because they're here to talk and a pleasant buzz will do just fine if they have a glass of water to hand. So Luo QingYang raises a brow in surprise when Mo XuanYu picks up the tumbler and tosses the drink back in one go, only slightly wheezing at the burn in his throat. 

“Another?” She offers with a smirk, taking a delicate sip from her own glass.

“Yep. I've a feeling we're gonna need it. Plus I have a high tolerance.”

“Whatever you say,” she replies, pushing the glass of water closer to him. “But drink all that first.” Only when he complies, does she make him another one, however this time, she's stingy with the vodka.

“Back to what you were saying. Why you left? Obviously, whatever they put down has to be horseshit. You can tell me the truth.” Mo XuanYu fixes her with a determined expression. 

“I have nothing to be ashamed of. Hours and hours of expensive therapy guarantees I know that. But you…” she gives him a measured gaze. “It's one thing to learn stuff about randos, you know, people you don't know.” She waves a hand nonchalantly in the air between them. “But I'm about to destroy your father's image. To you. If you want me to…not do that, tell me now and we can just have a fun party instead.”

“My father has already done that himself, so no worries on that front. The truth, please.” Mo XuanYu maintains eye contact, not even blinking.

“Fine.” She points a finger at him half heartedly. “But I'm going to feel bad for telling you, all the same.”

Mo XuanYu shrugs. He won't lie, he's curious about this. What else could his father have done to earn such scorn, so much hatred from this person? After meeting Luo QingYang, Mo XuanYu finds that he genuinely likes her. Not romantically, but just because she's nice. She's straightforward and obviously values traits like honesty and kindness; if she did not, she wouldn't have asked for his permission first, before telling him things that he definitely won't like about his own father. Or keep pushing the water towards him, instead of the cocktail. Making sure he's hydrated.

Luo QingYang takes a long lungful of breath, looking out of the window when she starts talking. “When I started working at Koi Tower, it was because I was friends with A-Xuan at first. He begged me to come with him, saying that he needed someone on his side there. I didn't understand it, not at first. But your dad is a manipulative, Grade A asshole. Anyway, that aside, there was always talk circulating about him, but I put it down to just gossip. The people I worked with, well, now that I'm looking back, I can see clearly that they were divided into two groups. Those who knew and avoided him, and those who knew and didn't. If we're talking pie charts, then I was in the middle, because I naively believed in proof over rumours. There were a couple more girls like me. But we were too few to make a difference and the others were too jaded to help.

“I only took it seriously when a new intern suddenly left without explanation and I found another crying in the locker room after hours. Her blouse was torn, and she was in shock, obviously distressed. I drove her to hospital but I later learned that she left after treatment and I thought she would have wanted to press charges against Jin Guangshan. I told A-Xuan about it, and by that time, Meng Yao had just started working there. We approached him with evidence and he said he would take care of it.

“But nothing happened. Nothing changed and I could see it taking a toll on ZiXuan. He was drinking more and more, and then I was becoming isolated at work. I didn't notice at first because, you know, working,” she emphasised, with a bitter laugh. “But I started taking precautions. I took self defence lessons, started carrying mace, that sort of thing. It was around that time that A-Xuan's mother passed away. They called it an accidental drug overdose, but ZiXuan didn't believe it. He was the only one affected; Jin Guangshan carried on as normal beyond the official funeral. 

“Straight after that, WangJi, Professor Lan, called me over to Gusu. A new archaeological site had been discovered, in the back hills of the Cloud Recesses and he needed my help. The three of us, WangJi, ZiXuan and myself, we were already close because of uni, sharing classes because of our interests overlapping. There was a lot of travelling in between the two cities and a lot of work. ZiXuan tried to make sure I was never alone with his father, but one night he was called away. Meng Yao, the absolute vile bastard, promised him he would stay behind in the sudden meeting that Jin Guangshan called for, needing an update.” Her hand clenches around the glass she tips back, knuckles white and prominent. She immediately pours herself another, this time, heavier on the vodka. 

Mo XuanYu feels cold all over. His gaze falls to his arm where the few soft downy hairs are slowly rising, goosebumps underneath. He grits his teeth and finishes his drink, too. He gets the feeling he's going to hate what she tells him next.

Luo QingYang glances at his empty glass sympathetically and pours him another one, too.

“I won't go into details,” she reassures him. “He attacked me. Meng Yao made his excuses and left, giving him that chance. It was a fight between a two-hundred and fifty pound male against a much lighter female, albeit fully aware of what could happen and armed with mace. I managed to get away from him, but I was still shaken up by the whole thing. If ZiXuan hadn't found me…” She clears her throat, blinking rapidly. “That was it for him. We left Koi Tower and never looked back.”

Mo XuanYu is shocked. The infidelity aside, the blatant and rampant promiscuity was evidenced by his many siblings. But until now, he had assumed whatever Jin Guangshan did was consensual. By both parties. He feels sick. And then another thought forms in his head, and no matter how hard he tries, he can't unthink it.

“My mother–” It's too awful, and he swallows hard, disbelieving. Up until now, he thought his mother's relationship with his father was consensual. But how much of that was his own wishful thinking? And worse, what if it wasn't?

“She's dead now, right?”

Mo XuanYu nods, not trusting himself to speak.

“Maybe that's for the best,” she nods too, but more to herself. 

“But—who do I ask?” Mo XuanYu feels uprooted, a bitter storm of regret and anger swirling in his mind.

“I doubt your dad would ever admit to it,” Luo QingYang replies.

“I wouldn't believe him anyway,” Mo XuanYu tells her adamantly. 

“You can always check hospital records,” she suggests. “If she was–if there was force involved, she might have needed treatment.”

It's a good idea. 

Mo XuanYu grabs the trash can and throws up in it.

Chapter Text

It's late when Lan Zhan returns from going outside for the second time again. Everything in the conversation between himself and Mo XuanYu has been forwarded to Luo QingYang. All pictures and screenshots Mo XuanYu sent back to him, plus the added notes and his possible theories have been thought provoking and shocking. Every instinct in Lan Zhan’s body is screaming for him to go and confront Meng Yao with the evidence right now. He wants to get his brother away from that awful man, as far away as he can manage, and his fists clench at his sides in frustration.

What ultimately helps him is the practice that he's built up over the years through meditation, and as he calms himself down, he goes to sit on his bed in the dark. Deep breaths and the quiet helps, surrounded by the dim light drifting up from the secret room.

Meng Yao is a scheming rat, and a clever one at that. If Lan Zhan were to go storming into XiChen's quarters this minute, several horrible things would happen. Firstly, his presence in the Cloud Recesses would prove his own untrustworthyness. Meng Yao could call him out on his misrepresentation of his whereabouts, thereby negating any reliability in the proof he would present to his brother of his boyfriend's guilt. Another unnecessary complication would involve the ancient cauldron. Meng Yao has full rights to it. He could decide to remove it completely from his possession, and Lan Zhan can freely admit to himself that the puzzle surrounding it is far too tantalising for him to want to give it up so easily. Even if the Jins didn't insist upon its removal, they might start rescinding any side benefits extended as a gesture of good will. They could force Lan Zhan to move temporarily to Linyi, and conduct his investigation under their watchful eyes. Which sounds…horrible.

Thirdly, prematurely throwing all of their cards on the table, so to speak, would put two other people aside from himself in danger, possibly his own brother fourthly. Mo XuanYu could be killed, as well as Luo QingYang, Lan WangJi, too. Anybody who has seen the secret room and its contents hidden behind the seemingly benign double sided mirror can start counting their days if word gets out of their involvement. He's confident in Luo QingYang's ability to think about things like this and proceed with caution. Unfortunately, she knows what the Jins are like.

Besides, it's nighttime now. The authorities would be reluctant to come out here at this hour, let alone believe him if he handed over a half-finished report. Nothing less than full preparation will do. Any attempt at exposure without covering their backs means they risk jeopardising the entire case against the Jins.

There's nothing for it but to wait them out.

And Lan Zhan is a busy man. There's plenty to keep him occupied until tomorrow. He feels well rested and ready to tackle what he must do. No more procrastinating, he tells himself sternly. The clock is ticking relentlessly, and he's running out of time; as soon as Meng Yao finds out he's been compromised, that'll be it for everyone, including Lan Zhan.

With determination, Lan Zhan stands up and goes downstairs into his hideaway. The more time he spends here, the more comforting it becomes. And it's because of this thought that he's already looking around when he reaches the bottom step and pauses. There's a shadowy shape right by his low table.

It's clearly there, or something is, but the wisps of smokey darkness come together and dissipate with too much frequency for him to make out the definition of it. What is it?

“Lan Zhan!”

Lan Zhan is frantically looking around at that before he realises the words were spoken in his mind. Which is…bizarre. Right?

“Lan Zhan, don't be scared.” This is much softer.

But still freaky.

“Wei Ying?”

“Got it in one!”

“Where are you?” Lan Zhan moves closer to the strange form. It's not a proper shape at all, resembling a loose fluffy cloud.

“You're looking at me, sort of? Well, I'm not sure what I look like, but it feels like it's taken ages to make myself manifest. The fact that you can hear me is incredible. But it's taking a lot of energy.”

Before Lan Zhan can respond, the cloudy shape suddenly shifts into a straight and narrow line and then it just…kind of blips and then disappears. Fizzles out. Nothing remains to show it had even been there a few moments ago. There's just empty air.

“WEI YING!” Lan Zhan steps forward in a panic, and his heart is beating so fast, he feels like he can't breathe. What the hell was that? He rubs his eyes, wanting to make sure that they're working properly.

He hasn't met Wei Ying in his dreams for a while now, and he freely admits that he misses him dearly. There was cause for concern too, because Lan Zhan put two and two together: the dreams featuring Wei Ying started straight after he passed out after touching the cauldron and continued with regularity, right up until the ancient cooking vessel busted open. There's definitely a connection between these events, but he can't work it out. Wei Ying told him, the folk who he rescued and lived with in the Burial Mounds used it for cooking soup, as it was intended.

But something happened, had to have happened to necessitate the curse on the lid. The curse itself might have multiple functions too, Lan Zhan just has to work it out.

Is it too much of a reach to guess that originally, Wei Ying might have drawn the curse array on the cauldron? People often accused him of cursing people, and a case in point was the history books reporting Jin ZiXun, who had accosted him for this very reason. An accusation of performing the Hundred Hole curse upon him, to be exact, though no proof was ever found. Wei WuXian had explained that this particular curse had a rebound effect on the caster, but no one had bothered to find out if his body bore any such marks. Lan Zhan paid attention to details and that information had been condensed into a couple of lines in an old history book; he doubts anyone would have found it unless they were specifically looking for more about Wei Ying and his connection to curses.

True, by then the Cultivation World was too busy imploding to waste time on facts, he thinks sardonically. But since Wei Ying knew about curses, and it could also be said that he was somewhat of an expert on them, and suddenly now, Lan Zhan’s theory doesn't feel so far-fetched at all.

But if it was indeed Wei Ying who created and activated this curse, then why? For what reason? What does it actually do?

Wei Ying has already admitted that his own memory is sketchy; he remembers some things but there are holes, gaps of time for which he has no account, no recollection of what happened back then.

Is there any point to asking him?

He waits, because it feels like the logical next step, that Wei Ying will come back (because he's been here and actually written words down, and he managed to put the curse array back together like an ancient metal jigsaw puzzle), it's only a matter of time before he returns. The last time, Wei Ying expended a lot of energy to move inanimate objects, so this time he must have used the same amount of energy if not more to show himself, and to make himself heard. It feels like he's getting stronger every time, and that is an encouraging thought.

In the meantime, Lan Zhan forces himself to go closer to the overturned cauldron.

The last time he touched it, he passed out.

Luckily, it's fallen onto its side and the contents have spilled out. Lan Zhan crouches by it and uses a wooden ruler to slide under the side handles and gingerly tilt it back into a standing position to rest upon its three stubby little legs. It's completely empty now, but on the floor next to it is a parchment paper with musical notes, a silver bell with a faded purple silk tassel, and an inky black bamboo flute.

It has a red tassel, faded and probably made from silk, too.

It can't be…can it? The sight of the red tassel is jarring to Lan Zhan, triggering another memory.

Is it Chenqing? The real thing?

The Deathly Flute, the Dizi named Chenqing, belongs to the Yiling Laozu. Made by his own hands from the black bamboo growing native in the Burial Mounds, and used as a conduit between the living and the dead. With this dizi, Wei WuXian made corpses, people who were already dead, rise up and do his bidding. Mostly, it was the Wen Army, soldiers who had fought and lost against the Allied Forces who were summoned to fight against their ex-companions, opposing the side they previously fought on. It was the biggest mind-fuck ever, and Wei WuXian's genius ploy successfully won the war for them. It was his spiritual weapon after he stopped cultivating with his sword, Suibian. Not out of choice but from necessity.

Out of all of these items, Lan Zhan considers the sheet of music last.

It feels like the most harmless.

He's not going to touch the dizi. Just in case there's more to it than meets the eye.

The bell is tarnished now, but he imagines what it must have looked like when it was new. He knows about the sects and their sacred items; if the Lans had their meaningful forehead ribbons, the Jiangs had their clarity bell. It was traditionally given to each disciple upon the discovery and growth of their golden core, rumoured to ring only via a little burst of spiritual energy from the wearer, although in modern times, it could be compared to wearing the badge of your chosen club as a sign of your membership. While all the sects had their sigils: Lotus flowers for the Jiangs, Sparks Amid Snow peonies for the Jins, Clouds for the Lans, the bull-face for the Nies, and the Flames, later changed to the Sun for the Wens), it wasn't clear if they all possessed other items as a common trait like the Lans and the Jiangs.

So he thinks it's best left alone for now.

Lan Zhan shivers as soon as his fingers come into contact with the ancient parchment. Musical notes are the same format in today's language, and not much changed even in seal script, so he hums the tune to himself as he walks over to his guqin.

There was a time when it used to be covered only by a pale blue velvet cover with fluffy, swirling white clouds. Since Lan Zhan used to play every day, it was more for easy removal than anything else. Plus, it had been a gift from his mother. Made out of pure silk, it was the softest thing Lan Zhan had ever touched and he loved it. But as he got older and other tasks monopolised his time, he had to sacrifice the playing of it.

Every time he went past its stand, he would pause reluctantly, staring at it until XiChen took mercy on him and commissioned a cherry wood case to keep it dust free. And out of sight, sparing Lan Zhan from guilt.

Now, he carries the case to his low table and opens the clasps securing the lid. The silk velvet still rests over his treasured instrument and he reverently removes it. His guqin will require a quick clean and tuning, then he must familiarise himself with the song.

As he works, fetching the sandalwood oil to clean the strings and remove any dust residue, he lets his mind ruminate on why these specific items were stored inside the most unlikeliest container. Furthermore, they were protected by a curse array, which has proved to still be in effect, evidenced by the many suspicious deaths surrounding its discovery.

Obviously, each item is important; of that, there is no doubt in his mind.

But why? And how are they important? And is it each of them separately, or together?

Chenqing is vitally so, because it belongs to the man of the hour. Perhaps, Wei WuXian needed to hide it from greedy, resourceful cultivators wanting to steal his power. Whether that was possible or not, Lan Zhan has no idea. But he assumes that if a cultivator used a spiritual tool, the skill and talent to successfully be able to do so would already be present, to a greater degree. Added to that, spiritual weapons had an inherently close connection with their wielder; the clue is in the name. Nobody could just pick it up and use it. It was similar to how a child recognised their mother; the familiarity of the instrument or weapon created the preference and the unity of a bond impossible to mimic or replicate with another.

Regarding the Jiang bell, Wei WuXian is the connection there, again. It was obviously his from when he was their head disciple.

But what is this piece of music? Who had composed it? And what makes this particular sequence of notes so special? He's been humming it quietly for the past few hours, at first checking the notes and sounding them out in his head before attempting them out loud. But through the methodical process of cleaning his guqin and fine tuning the strings, he thinks he has gotten the hang of it.

Now he's ready to actually play it on the musical instrument it was meant for.

Lan Zhan takes a deep breath to centre himself and he's just about to start playing when a movement catches his eye and he looks up in total shock.

“Wei Ying?”

Chapter Text

It's definitely Wei Ying. 

But his form is still shadowy. There, yet not solidly. Lan Zhan can see him, an outline mostly, blinking into something more real and then flashing out of sight just as fast. It's like watching one of those picture wheels; when the handle is turned, the drawing moves on the paper as if it's racing ahead, all depending on the speed tempered by the watcher. A slower turn is almost magical, despite the mechanics of the device being so obviously apparent. 

“Lan Zhan…I don't know what you did and maybe you're still doing it, but don't stop, okay?” Although it's faint, barely a whisper, it is Wei Ying. 

Again, Lan Zhan hears those words in his head and he begins humming to himself once more. The sheet of music is right in front of him but he has it memorised now, so there's no need for him to keep checking that he's using the right ones. Each note follows in his head like words seen by the reader a second before they're voiced, one after another in automatic succession. 

The song itself is beautiful. A lilting melody that brings to mind a trickle of water, the beginnings of a sure stream pining for the sea. It playfully runs over boulders and rocks, a gurgling, happy brook dancing with joy and elation. It forges a new path so that it may flow faster to its destination. It's creating currents of love and speed and yearning, all towards a goal of finding more. The brook becomes a river that grows in momentum, wider and deeper and more powerful. And then there's a final surge of its climax as it breaks into the ocean, whose welcoming arms gather it into its depths with a crescendo of jubilation. 

It is full of joy at discovering a new feeling but simultaneously sad because this river needs to grow. There is uncertainty, there is the fear of the unknown, the percussion of its pining; wanting something that is just out of reach. The beat of the notes provides a backdrop, the riverbed as a foundation for this melody and what it wants to say. If it was composed on a guqin, Lan Zhan imagines the way the notes would sound, and the echoes are spaces of emptiness, waiting for a counterpart, waiting to be filled.

Whoever wrote this song felt deeply. They found a way to give nuance to each fluttering of their heartstrings, voicing a yearning so bright and so full of longing that it was impossible to mistake this piece of music as anything other than a love song. 

It can never be described as just a song.

It is the equivalent of a canvas to a painter, or a lump of clay to a potter. It is the medium by which the artist chose to reveal the beauty of their inner soul. The shining heart of them, the marrow hidden inside their bones. A wish to be seen and recognised by the other half of themselves. This song is not just a bunch of notes strung together by a master craftsman - this love song is a message. It has been written for a specific person to convey a specific message. 

It feels sacred, to be able to sound out each note in this wonderful sequence. Better than any prayer.

But Lan Zhan, now that he's only looking up, has noticed that the more he hums with each repeated rendition of this song, Wei Ying’s form becomes that much clearer. He's still mostly transparent, but there's a clarity to his shape and face that wasn't there before. No longer just a vague wispy apparition.

This is Wei Ying. As he was.

What he looks like now must be an embodiment of his own self image; how he appeared to himself in his mind’s eye, all those years ago. And now that Lan Zhan can make out this shape of him, he can see the resemblance between this Wei Ying and the portrait of the Yiling Laozu on display in the Yiling Museum. They are, for better or worse, one and the same.

“How long can you maintain this?” Lan Zhan gestures towards him, flailing at the last second because he's unsure of what to call this.

“I don't know?” Wei Ying’s mouth moves, and yet the sound of his words still echo in Lan Zhan’s mind.

“You are somehow tied to the music,” Lan Zhan thinks aloud, voicing his epiphany. It's a sudden realisation, like working out a complex math problem. 

“Yes!” Wei Ying bobs his head like one of those nodding head dolls. “That makes sense. But Lan Zhan, wasn't the Lan Clan's speciality music cultivation? Do you think my Lan Zhan, I mean, Lan WangJi, do you think he did something?” He smacks the side of his head in frustration. “I feel like I'm remembering things and they're important, but they fade away before I can make sense of them. It's so annoying!”

“You, too?”

Wei Ying goes completely still. Wide-eyed, he stares back at Lan Zhan worriedly. 

“So…I'm not the only one, then?”

Lan Zhan shakes his head. This too, feels significant. “Headaches. When I try to remember too hard.”

“In dreams? Or when you're awake?” Wei Ying sounds cautious. 

“Both. The longer time was when I touched that,” he recalls, his eyes flying towards the cauldron. “I was compelled to put my hand on it. Not my own wish.”

Wei Ying follows his gaze and kind of floats towards the bronze vessel. “I want to laugh, because honestly, we really did use it to cook radishes.” He glances back at Lan Zhan with a grin. “Who would have thought it's so important now, huh?”

It's disconcerting because Lan Zhan can see him distinctly and yet at the same time, he can just as clearly see his sleeping bag and the low table, but through Wei Ying’s transparent body. It's a very weird feeling. He has to focus properly on one or the other, or else it feels like he's losing his mind. It's so strange, all of this. Lan Zhan imagines trying to explain any of this to his uncle, and the bizarreness of the entire situation makes him shut down that train of thought immediately. That's definitely a tomorrow slash future problem. No need to dwell on it now.

“Out of what you saw, what exactly can you remember?” Wei Ying asks him, stifling a noise of surprise. He's just spotted Chenqing, though he makes no move to touch it. “Even if it's bits and pieces. Then if it jogs something in me, we can compare notes.”

It's a good idea. 

Lan Zhan closes his eyes, trying to recall specific images. The problem with this is that everything is a blur. It's a train wreck of carriages, scenes crashing into one another and crumpling into a heap - each image changes before he can grasp its meaning or check the surroundings to try and recognise where it takes place. The headache is trying to make a comeback.

“Sweetheart…I'm sorry. Don't push yourself to remember if it hurts.”

Lan Zhan's eyes pop open to find Wei Ying so much closer now, anxiously staring back at him. His hand hovers close to Lan Zhan’s shoulder as if wanting to offer comfort. 

“Let's think about something else, hmm? Going back to music cultivation, what do you know about it?”

It's an effort, but Lan Zhan makes himself switch tracks and concentrate on what he's been asked. The headache disappears just as fast, and that's oddly something else significant to note down. 

“Our archives list more than a dozen different techniques created and refined by the then Lan Clan. Pozhangyin, the Eradication Tone, was used as a battle melody to suppress opposing forces in large numbers. The Chord Assassination Technique was invented by Lan Yi, our only female Sect Leader, hundreds of years ago.”

“I saw that in action,” Wei Ying approves, nodding with a grin. “The Xuanwu of Slaughter was a tough enemy but Lan Zha– WangJi was better. At least, I thought so.”

“You can call him Lan Zhan,” Lan Zhan says softly. If it makes Wei Ying feel better, that is worth any confusion on his part. Wei Ying is obviously not used to calling Lan WangJi by his courtesy name and it feels cruel to force him to continue doing it.

Wei Ying’s answering smile is blinding. Like a sudden light in a dark room, or the sun blasting away clouds to shine radiantly over a mountaintop. It fills Lan Zhan’s heart with overflowing warmth and he is assured that it was the right decision. 

“Okay.”

The simplicity of his reaction flusters Lan Zhan into a verbal outpouring of information. 

“The Lans also perfected Inquiry, a technique that summoned and allowed communication with the spirits of the dead. Not to be confused with Evocation, which used a piece of the corpse or a thing that belonged to the spirit by placing it in the centre of an array. Rest, Anxi, temporarily soothed resentment energy to calm it for a while. However, while all of those melodies were aggressively proactive, there were gentler, healing songs too. The most famous was the Purification Tone, or Cleansing. These specific notes were played to cleanse the heart of any negative feelings, to heal the suffering after any trauma. In particular, this song required a higher level of cultivation and expertise, because if even one note was altered by mistake, it could lead to serious consequences.”

“Lan Zhan was an expert at playing his qin,” Wei Ying remarks, beginning to pace.

It's almost comical, how his shape flits about in front of Lan Zhan, back and forth but without strong, robust legs. He sort of…floats instead. Lan Zhan forces his attention back towards what he's saying, embarrassed at losing it in favour of simply watching this fascinating man. Everything about Wei Ying draws him in like a magnet. The way he walks, the way he talks, the way he thinks, how nothing, not even the smallest detail is overlooked or thrown aside. His mind is so fast, Lan Zhan fears being left behind, lost in a labyrinth of new ideas.

“...Sunshot Campaign, when I found them. Lan Zhan’s poor fingers were bleeding and he shredded his guqin, breaking the strings in a last desperate attack. My friends flew in front of me, their speed and desire to avenge me far greater than the resentment energy I was using to propel myself forward.”

“Friends?” Lan Zhan had assumed Wei Ying was alone, back then.

“The crows and ravens. I don't even know where they all came from, but it was like a mass winged attack on the Wens. Corpses came alive and turned around to kill their own people. It was mad. I was so angry. Furious with Wen Chao and his whore.” His gorgeous silver eyes flash crimson, more beautiful than any ruby. 

“They're outside now, keeping vigil on my house,” Lan Zhan tells him, including what his brother had informed him about the attack on Meng Yao when he had attempted to visit the Jingshi without permission. 

“They're so loyal,” Wei Ying says with awe. “I know none of them are those who lived with me in the Burial Mounds…but it's a nice thought that somehow, they still feel some connection to me.” He wanders over to the assembled pieces of the cauldron lid. Crouching down by it, his fingers poke at the metal. 

“Did you put that together?” Lan Zhan asks him, curiously. He's been wondering about it ever since it happened. “And the note on my desk?”

“Yep, that was me!” Wei Ying turns back to him with another bright smile, this time full of mischief. “I bet that blew your mind!”

“Mn.” It's nice to have confirmation. “How? Your current state disputes that.”

“Lan Zhan! I'm not lying!” Wei Ying protests, scandalised. He laughs and closes his eyes. “Watch carefully, then.”

Lan Zhan does, and then thinks about how his eyes have hardly left Wei Ying ever since he appeared. It is no chore, no inconvenience, to look at him. There is so much to appreciate, so much to wonder at.

Wei Ying concentrates and points to the corner of the reassembled curse array. All of his energy seems focused, as if he's readying himself to shoot, and then suddenly there's a zap of white light like a laser beam, and the metal piece flies up!

Wei Ying dodges out of the way. “Oops!” He snickers. “Too much!”

Well, that certainly explains a lot.

Chapter Text

Lan Zhan retrieves the corner piece of the array and returns it to its position. 

“You said you are an expert on curses.”

“That's me! Why?”

Lan Zhan gestures towards the array. “Tell me about this one. Other than the obvious intention to keep away unwanted intruders, what else is it supposed to do?”

“Clever Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying studies him. “Are you sure you're not MY Lan Zhan? You're just as smart as him…and I dunno, I'm just– well, it doesn't matter,” he finishes breezily, turning back to the problem at hand. “We covered most of it in the dream of what you remembered to show me.”

“In the dream, we discussed the four directions, and the characters for time, perpetuality, letting things slip from one's memory–” Lan Zhan starts saying, but now they're both suddenly staring at one another as his words cut off in shock.

“Oh Gods! Lan Zhan, you fucking genius! I cannot believe it! It's right there, right in front of us, and I can't believe I didn't see it!” Wei Ying looks wild, his eyes darting from the curse array to Lan Zhan repeatedly. “Right there,” he whispers again to himself, in shock.

“I don't want to get it wrong in my head,” Lan Zhan says urgently, because this feels momentous. As if they're on the cusp of breaking this thing apart. “So I want you to explain it to me, slowly.”

“Alright, alright,” Saying it to himself, Wei Ying does the motion of running his hands through his hair but of course, there's no solid form to the action. He doesn't seem to care about that now. “Alright, there's a lot to be said about repeated explanations,” he grins. “It's how I used to teach the kiddos, but I usually found that I ended up learning something new in the process.” His hand rests on Lan Zhan’s knee.

Lan Zhan can't feel it, because Wei Ying’s body has no substance, but he may as well have branded him for the heat that goes straight to his ears. Luckily, Wei Ying is distracted by the curse.

“I've seen some horrible curses in my time, Lan Zhan. I hated the thought behind them, the malice that one person could hold towards another, and nine times out of ten, for no apparent reason. That's why my fascination started with curses. I wanted to help the innocent ones who had no idea something maleficent was aimed at them.”

“What kind of curses?” Lan Zhan can't help asking. It IS a fascinating subject, and he loves listening to Wei Ying talking. What's not to like? He thinks even if Wei Ying recited all three thousand rules of the ancient Lan Clan, he would listen with the same rapturous attention. 

“Well, okay, off tangent, if you really hated someone, obviously killing them outright was one of them. That one's called the Flame curse of Death. It's shaped like a flame, too. But in my time, I saw the evidence of the Hundred Holes curse. That one's more complicated because again, obviously, you hate the person you're casting it upon. But this curse rebounds, and it's a little known fact. The person casting it gets a lower concentration of the same curse. The whole name is the Thousand Sores and Hundred Holes Curse. Rare, deadly and difficult to remove. It consists of small holes the size of sesame seeds and larger ones the size of soybeans spreading evenly across the body. At first, the bearer feels nothing, maybe noticing rougher pores. But then, the holes begin to grow in size and number. Once the surface of the skin is covered, the curse spreads inwards and affects the internal organs until the victim dies.” Wei Ying shudders. “Truly gruesome.”

“No cure?” Lan Zhan remembers this one from his notes. It was the catalyst for the siege of the Burial Mounds. 

“There was. Either convince the caster to remove it, which trust me, sounds easy but is far from it, or kill the caster. Less complicated.” Wei Ying shakes himself as though physically wanting to move away from this part of the conversation. “In the Burial Mounds, after my first visit there, I had a bad case of insomnia which never really went away unless Wen Qing felt like stabbing me with her needles. Anyway, it left me with a lot of time to dabble. I enjoyed picking apart the mechanics of curses, figuring out how they were supposed to work. They're closely connected to talisman work, but advanced, you know? So it was kind of a natural leap for me. Puzzles to figure out stopped me from losing my mind. I was under a lot of pressure back then, and this kind of problem-solving gave me peace. Redirecting my energy.”

Lan Zhan understands this. Back In uni, he'd seen plenty of students lay aside the stress of exams and dissertations, deadlines and classes via simple but engaging activities such as knitting and crocheting. As different as they could possibly get from studying curses, but the parallels were there. So he can see where Wei Ying is coming from. His pressures were even more severe back then; not only from the Cultivation World at large seeing him as the next Big Bad, but also from his adopted brother who ran the Jiang Sect of the time trying to convince him to give up the people he was protecting in order to play nice with the other kids in the sand pit.

Dangerous actions, dangerous consequences. 

“But see, this here?” Wei Ying points to a character out of the way in a corner. Its placement suggests that it has nothing to do with the actual curse array. A person could be studying the array and never even see this character because they wouldn't be looking for it. In fact, if Wei Ying hadn't pointed it out, Lan Zhan might not have noticed it so soon.

Lan Zhan takes a closer look. “Suibian?”

“Yeah,” Wei Ying giggles. “That's my signature. Just a dumb idea at the time, but I figured out how to dispute accusations of cursing people if I put my name on the ones I did do,” he explains. “And I missed my sword.”

“Your signature?” Lan Zhan repeats blankly, thrown for another loop.

“Ahuh, my signature. See, it's not like I could write Wei WuXian, or Wei Ying,” he giggles again, this time helplessly, “Or even Yiling Laozu! People could copy that and I'd be right back where I started. You won't believe the amount of imposters and willing, eager disciples my reputation created!”

Lan Zhan feels like Wei Ying is totally missing the point. “Wei Ying. That's your signature.”

“Yes, that's what I said.” Now Wei Ying sounds exasperated. 

“No. If that's your signature, that means you created this array. This specific one. And you said it yourself that you're an expert on curses.” Lan Zhan feels like he's on the cusp of understanding something major. It's right there, within his reach.

“Lan Zhan, what are you getting at?” Wei Ying sighs with frustration, not looking away from him.

“We need to work backwards.” Lan Zhan goes past him to his low table. “If you made this curse array, then you had a reason to do it. Let's find out what it's for, and why you chose those specific items to hide inside the cauldron. I can't believe they're random objects. The music sheet proves my theory since you're mostly whole, if still spooky.” There's something else tugging on his brain, something important that he needs to remember but now that they're going to work on this curse array, that other thought goes flying out of his mind.

“Okay, I'm going to trust you.” Wei Ying kind of gathers himself to sit in a lumpy formation right next to the broken pieces of the cauldron lid. “So, going back to letting things slip from one's memories, the clues add up to me wanting whoever this curse was aimed at to get amnesia. With me so far?”

“Mn.”

“Usually, curses are fairly simple in what they're supposed to do. Their format might be complicated, but the end result is straightforward. For example, a love curse is just supposed to create a mimicry of that kind of feeling in someone's mind so that they behave differently. The end result equals love, however fake. I mean, that's the one feeling that can't be made real or replicated. However, this particular curse is multi-layered. That means it's not a generic curse for starters, and secondly, I think it's supposed to counteract something.”

Lan Zhan is taking notes while Wei Ying talks, sounding out his thoughts. He's writing as fast as he can, but Wei Ying’s mind is much faster.

“Like…why is the character for death here? I would never resort to underhanded tricks like this…unless,” Wei Ying quietens, his face shifting with different expressions. “Protection, time, chance…to counteract maybe?” 

Moments lengthen into minutes as Wei Ying ponders the ramifications of this curse. Lan Zhan uses the time to study him. It is clear that his obsession with the Yiling Laozu is something wholly different to this situation. How he feels towards Wei Ying is gentler, a softer connection. He doesn't care if it goes nowhere. It doesn't matter to him that Wei Ying’s form isn't solid - to him, Wei Ying is as real as himself. As he watches Wei Ying think, exercising his capacity for genius, Lan Zhan examines his own feelings.

He likes Wei Ying a lot, that goes without saying, but this thing is much deeper than that. Like a fisherman content with his native lake loses that satisfaction upon seeing the ocean - now that Lan Zhan is beginning to understand himself better, he knows the depth, the intensity of this emotion for what it is.

The song on the sheet of music appealed to his soul and on a visceral level, he immediately knew what the composer wanted to convey. 

It is love.

An all-encompassing, surrounding feeling that did not depend on reciprocation. It's just there, folding inside the chambers of his heart and pulsing with every beat of it. It's hard to say when it happened, but it's here now and Lan Zhan is aware that it's going to stay. Even if Wei Ying doesn’t care about him, or never gets past their friendship, that doesn't matter one bit. Nothing can change how Lan Zhan feels about him, and with a shocking clarity, he realises that it is enough. It has become part of him, the fabric of his existence woven into the threads of his soul. Perhaps he has always loved Wei Ying and only just now discovered it.

He should lie down, he thinks, his eyelids becoming heavier. He tries to force them to stay open but his body is tired now. He's spent hours mulling over the many puzzles to come their way, and cleaning and tuning his guqin. It might even be nighttime again, and Lan Zhan decides that he doesn't care about that.

His sleeping bag is right here. Maybe a power nap will do wonders. He shifts to get comfortable and closes his eyes with relief. Wei Ying is here, and everything will be alright. 

Chapter Text

It's the smell that makes Lan Zhan wonder where he is. Heavy, smothering decay, the stench of rotten flesh permeates his senses until he's sitting up and looking around. He tries not to gag, though it's a challenge to maintain his stoic features.

“Hello again, Lan Er-Gege,” Wei Ying offers him a hand to help him stand up. He sounds so cheerful and it's unfitting to this place. It doesn't match their surroundings.

They're in a dark cave. The only light comes from two candle stubs nearly burned out, throwing sickly moving shadows against the uneven coarse walls.

“Welcome to my home,” Wei Ying saunters away with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Is this a dream?” Lan Zhan asks through his teeth, not trusting himself to keep the contents of his stomach where they are. They'll definitely make an appearance if he breathes through his nose.

“I think so, though how we both got here is still a mystery. The cauldron has something to do with it is my guess,” Wei Ying points with his chin towards the bronze cooking vessel that rests on the cold embers of a fire that has been put out. Blackened branches used for fuel lie in a criss-cross formation underneath it. “See? I was telling you the truth when I said we used it for cooking.”

“I believed you,” Lan Zhan tells him honestly. “But Wei Ying, why are we here? What is this place?” He has a suspicion, but confirmation would clear away any doubts.

“This, Sweetheart, is the Demon Subduing Cave. As for why we're here, I have a theory. I think the cauldron, when I drew the curse array on the lid, I made it into a vessel to contain the parts which we shouldn't forget. And to do that, we would have had to put inside it something that was vital to the memories we wanted to keep. In that way, the cauldron became a conduit to remind us of its creation. If I'm not mistaken, Lan Zhan, then things are about to get very interesting–”

Suddenly, Wei Ying cuts off his speech and grabs Lan Zhan to plaster them against the rough walls. Lan Zhan quickly looks around to memorise details about this place. After all, when is he ever going to get this chance again?

It's so bare and there's hardly anything here, in fact, that's the shocking part. There's a flat slab of an uncomfortable looking boulder with straw strewn across it, but even that is such a thin layer that Lan Zhan doubts it offered any protection against the cold hardness of the surface. A rolled up robe is at one end and he thinks that could be used as a pillow. Still, when he compares it to his own much softer bed, Lan Zhan has to wonder how Wei Ying tolerated it. He isn't the type to complain about things he doesn't have.

A threadbare brown blanket half hangs off the end providing little to no warmth, and off to the side, there's a suspiciously red-looking pool cordoned off with yellow talisman papers strung on a hessian twine. The warning not to go closer seems extra, when the pool itself looks so frightening. Papers are spread across the floor, some of them greasy and dirty, others have writing on both sides. But Lan Zhan is alarmed when he notices the colour of the ink - not black as he would have assumed. Back then, cinnabar and charcoal was used to make ink sticks…but this is more reddish brown. Like dried blood.

Just like that, seeing the blood calligraphy changes this situation and turns it that much darker. As Wei Ying had said it himself, blood is a macabre conduit, the ultimate life force.

Wei Ying is already looking at him when Lan Zhan turns to ask him, with a sheepish expression on his face. He says nothing to Lan Zhan’s raised brows, shrugging his answer instead.

A commotion at the entrance draws their attention away from the contents inside to the outside of the cave.

When Lan Zhan sees the two figures stumbling into this sheltered area, he's shocked because one of them looks like himself. He could be looking into a mirror at his own reflection, that's how similar they are, apart from their clothes. Wei Ying is being carried by him, his robes open to his waist, chest exposing the Wen brand, hair loose and swirling around his hips. It's tied back in a half knot with that lovely red ribbon.

At first, he's unsure if Wei Ying is still conscious and he moves to help them but then his Wei Ying, the one standing next to him hidden in the shadows of the overhanging stone wall, stops him.

“Just watch,” he mouths silently, shaking his head.

Lan Zhan trusts him enough to nod and he steps back, watching the following scene unfold.

They're both wearing traditional robes. Wei Ying’s red and black ones contrasting against Lan WangJi's white and pale blue ones, still reasonably clean and without blemish. Lan WangJi carries Wei Ying to the flat boulder and settles him down so that he's seated; though Wei Ying looks far too pale and exhausted. He hunches in on himself but remains upright. There are streaks of blood across both of them.

“Why are you here, Lan WangJi?” Wei Ying tilts, swaying in place. His voice is just over a whisper, a tired sound of regret and of giving up.

“Wei Ying, I love you. I want to keep you safe.” Lan WangJi tells him earnestly. He sounds so scared.

“It's a bit late for that,” Wei Ying laughs, and he looks bitterly towards the mouth of the cave. “They're coming. The wards have been breached.” His body hunches again, curling in on itself and that's when both Lan Zhan and Lan WangJi realise something is awfully wrong with him.

“Wei Ying! Are you hurt?” Lan WangJi's hands hover over him helplessly, the dim light from the candles hardly enough to see anything clearly.

“I feel funny,” Wei Ying slurs, grabbing Lan WangJi's sword. He unsheathes it slightly.

The pale blue glow emanating from the blade is suddenly fiercer, an opposite to the darkness of this enclosed space, and Lan WangJi helps him to hold it higher. Bichen's glow is bright enough to highlight a black mark on Wei Ying’s neck where his pulse beats. It's clear even to them as they hug the wall. Wei Ying, standing next to Lan Zhan, lets out a stream of curse words while Lan Zhan stares at the black flame mark in disbelief.

“What do you see, Lan Zhan?” The seated Wei Ying asks Lan WangJi, watching his face through long lashes, eyes barely allowing a flash of silver to be seen. He's slumped forward but evidently fighting something. “There's…something on my neck, right? Describe it to me.” Even now, his voice is commanding, low but powerful.

“A black mark. A flame.”

“I thought as much.” Wei Ying sounds resigned as he lets go of Lan WangJi's sword. It slides back into its sheath with a hiss, metal on metal. The cave returns to its dimness from before.

“What is it?” Lan WangJi rests his hand on Wei Ying’s knee. He's so tense, anxiously watching him.

“A curse to kill me.”

Lan WangJi gasps. “Wei Ying!” All his anguish, his regret, his sorrow, are wrapped up in those two words. Everything he feels.

“Well, I can't say I'm surprised.” Wei Ying laughs without any humour. “I guess this is it.”

“Wei Ying, no!” Lan WangJi bursts into tears, and truly, it is a terrible sight to see. Such a strong man, in so much obvious pain and suffering. “Is there no way to stop it? Can't we do anything?”

Wei Ying looks tortured. His hands rise up with a struggle as he lifts them to cradle Lan WangJi's face. His lovely silver eyes are equally wet. “After all this time, why now in our last few moments does this realisation finally come true? That you love me?” It's as if he's talking to himself.

There's a twist on his face then, as if he's changed his mind. Renewed determination floods his expression and the hopelessness disappears morphing into a grim acceptance. He has a plan.

“Lan Zhan, Sweetheart, there's no time to explain. Tell me, what do you want?” He demands.

“Wei Ying, I love you. I want to keep you safe.” Lan WangJi repeats himself sounding even more desperate.

Wei Ying thinks for a moment. “Well, then. The safest place I can think of is inside you. But we need something, something that can act like a key.”

“What about a musical key?” Suddenly, Lan WangJi looks fierce, like he's ready and waiting to take down hordes of their enemies. He stands up.

Wei Ying tells him to hurry, to bring the cauldron over to him. “This'll do just fine.”

“What are we doing?” Lan WangJi takes hold of his hands, and they watch as Wei Ying completely softens towards him. He looks like the Wei WuXian of his youth, fresh-faced and excited about living, visiting the Cloud Recesses for the first time again.

“Lan Zhan, I have to ask you to be brave one last time.”

Lan WangJi nods emphatically, steely determination mirrored in his bright golden eyes. He stares without blinking at the love of his life, waiting for his instruction. If love was a tangible thing, he would be glowing with a golden aura to match the colour of his lovely eyes, gilt with a single minded devotion.

To Lan Zhan standing by the wall, this picture of them feels so intimate that he feels he should be looking away to give them some privacy. But he can't. His eyes are fixed upon them and the love they're clearly basking in. Despite the coldness of this cave, he feels warm with the depths of their feelings. They are in love. Before they entered the cave, their feelings were there but neither knew of the other's emotional attachment. Now, they're shining with it.

“There's no way to fight the Death curse. But I think I can tweak it. So it isn't as effective.” Wei Ying leans forward and kisses Lan Zhan’s forehead. The action is so tender, so calm, and so beautiful. He has accepted his fate.

By the wall, Lan Zhan’s heart plummets as a bad feeling grows. Something horrible is about to happen. He knows it.

“What do you need?” Lan WangJi asks Wei Ying.

“Something of mine, something of yours and the key to break the second curse. They need to be sealed in a safe place until you're ready to remember me again. But first, I have to die.”

“NO!” Lan WangJi shouts, but he's already crying as Wei Ying shakes his head. “It's the only way, my love. You already promised to be brave for me.” Now his voice is coaxing, gentler somehow as if he knows the awfulness of what he's asking from him. “Just a little longer. Then it'll all be over.”

Lan WangJi shakes his head.

Lan Zhan turns to the Wei Ying standing next to him. Like himself, he's watching the other two carefully, refusing to look away.

“Can't we help them?” Lan Zhan demands, grabbing his arm.

Wei Ying takes his hand and entwines their fingers together. “We're going to. Just watch.” He brings their hands up to cradle against his own chest.

Lan Zhan feels so frustrated at that, but there's nothing he can think of to help them anyway. Wei Ying gives his hand a squeeze, adding a gentle nudge with his shoulder so that his attention returns to the other two.

“Please?” The other Wei Ying offers. It's a request.

Lan WangJi silently reaches into his sleeve and reluctantly pulls out the sheet of music and the purple silk tassel attached to the Jiang bell. He gives both of them to Wei Ying and opens the lid of the cauldron.

Wei Ying pulls Chenqing from his waist sash and bows to it. “Chenqing, you have served me well. Now I must ask one last thing from you.” Reverently, he lowers it into the cauldron. “Where did you find this?” He asks Lan WangJi about the bell. “In the forest near Yiling, when I searched for you,” Lan WangJi replies, his face continuously wet with tears that won't stop. He doesn't bother wiping them away. “And this?” Wei Ying looks at the sheet of music. “What's it called?”

“WangXian.”

Wei Ying lets out a startled chuckle. “That's a great name, my love.”

Three pairs of eyes watch Lan WangJi summon WangJi after he sits down across from Wei Ying.

“Sweetheart, the timing is going to be incredibly important. When I draw the array to modify the death curse, you have to bind my soul with yours AND simultaneously lock away your memories of me. You will forget who I am, and in a way that's the same as dying, right? But I'll be safe inside you. Nothing will be able to touch me there, and whoever wants to kill me will rest easy.” Wei Ying drops to the ground on one knee in front of Lan WangJi.

He pulls the cauldron closer and motions for Lan WangJi to begin playing. Wei Ying closes his eyes and holds his right hand up, switching to just his two first fingers upright, his thumb keeping the smaller fingers down. He bites down on his index finger and draws an array in the air over the cauldron lid. The dark cave lights up with scarlet glow, the array shining like the spilled blood still dripping from Wei Ying’s finger. Characters that Lan Zhan described before to Wei Ying, the ones for the four compass points and the ones to let things slip from one's memory, death, time and chance, all light up creating an eery red haze in the cave. The black mark on Wei Ying’s neck glows black first before it burns red matching the array. They watch as it lifts itself off his skin and is pulled towards the spinning array.

All throughout, the notes of the song play in the air, tugging on both Wei Ying and Lan WangJi. The echoing melody surrounds them, circulating in the dome shape of the cave.

The array shines even brighter as the song reaches its peak. It lights up the whole cave, bathing the rough walls in crimson, and funnels itself to blast a copy, a mirror image onto the lid of the cauldron as it slams into place. At the same time, that single act causes Lan Zhan, both Wei Yings and Lan WangJi to be sucked into the grooves engraved on the cold, hard metal.

Chapter Text

Lan Zhan blinks a few times, looking around. The night is cool and the air is fresher up here than down the mountain. It's cold as it travels down to his lungs, his breath misting in front of him. The stars shine brightly, twinkling above the full moon as it rises, and Lan Zhan remembers that he's on patrol duty tonight. It's a clear night, hardly any grey clouds marring the deep midnight sky.

There's a sound, scrambling feet on cold unforgiving, loud, tiles of a roof so Lan Zhan goes to investigate. There's something odd about everything, but he can't tell what it might be. However, his first obstacle is his clothes. That's when he realises that he has full awareness of what is going on with his body, but he has no control - seeing the white robes, fluttering sleeves with the see-through lace overlay, is so disconcerting that Lan Zhan fully expects to trip up over the longer hems. But reality is a Lan Zhan who glides through the air, traversing the ancient stone paving like an ethereal spirit. He's full of poise and elegance and grace.

This is not to say that Lan Zhan is without these qualities usually. Just that this is a bit of a shock. He's never worn traditional robes, not like these ones. There are seven layers and yet, they don't feel cumbersome or heavy, like he's somehow used to them flowing around his body and his legs.

He looks up and sees Wei Ying climbing over the roof top wall, perhaps not as elegantly but he's doing a stellar job of keeping his balance.

This experience is surreal; Lan Zhan is here and able to use all his facilities and yet he is barred from interference. His mouth follows a dialogue already written for him, and Wei Ying matches his countenance. He gives up trying to stop the inevitable and simply watches Wei Ying instead. This is like being an active participant in his own film without being able to change anything. 

Wei Ying is the most beautiful man Lan Zhan has ever seen. But at the same time, also the most infuriating, cheeky, impertinent and chaotic little gremlin to enter his world. All of his many, varied qualities, his genius included, make up this person that Lan Zhan has fallen irrevocably in love with. If it was true back then, it's definitely true now, and Lan Zhan is as sure of this as every beat of his poor heart.

That realisation slams into his consciousness and he finally understands: he is Lan WangJi AND Lan Zhan. 

Their souls are one and the same.

The curse array created in the Demon Subduing Cave, all those years into the future from this past drawn by a supremely talented Yiling Laozu was so on point, so correct that it lasted until Lan Zhan accidentally spilled his blood on it, thereby nullifying its effects. The cure to the Flame curse that Wei Ying had spontaneously made upon the realisation that someone wanted him dead actually worked. And it seems fitting that in activating a curse meant to bind their souls together, it started off with using Wei Ying’s blood and ended by deactivating it with Lan Zhan’s blood, even if it was by chance. A beginning and an end.

All of his life, Wei Ying has spent every second finding loopholes, bending the rules to suit his purposes and forging ahead to do the right thing. Standing up against tyranny and injustice, he is a paragon of virtue, and Lan Zhan has never loved him more. To that end, was there ever any doubt that his solution to dying wouldn't work?

So he settles back to watch the Love of his life and himself, suddenly so relaxed because he can't do anything to change the course of their lives. 

With this newfound realisation, he feels reborn. It's as if they've been given another chance to live their lives. The magnitude of it, the humbling appreciation floods through him as he watches Wei Ying flirt without understanding what he's doing. He's such a lively, friendly person. A firecracker of a human being lighting up Lan Zhan’s stark, cold world with warmth and colour. An unmatched vibrancy radiating his sincerity. 

Their sword duel is equally matched, but Wei Ying’s skill is so advanced that he doesn't even bother unsheathing his Suibian. Sparks fly as the wood of his scabbard hits Bichen, Wei Ying whirling out of the way and deflecting the energy aimed at him; Lan Zhan is amused with himself because he knows he's fighting on two fronts. Both the marvellous being in front of him and his own raging attraction towards this capable, beautiful man. The captivating way he moves like water, embodying its fluidity, the way it changes to fit any shape, Wei Ying is like a sentient wave. Independent, fully aware of his own ability and his open joy at meeting another who can match him, step for step, strike for strike. Their souls surge with elation, two halves joining together to be whole once again.

Like turning the page of a picture book, the scene changes to the library and the stolen glances between two young boys who don't quite understand what is happening to them. 

Lan Zhan back then, tried to stick to his rules and the rules of his Clan, all three thousand of them, in the hopes that they would give him a safe harbour against the tempest that was Wei Ying. Now, he just wants to laugh at that impossibility. If he could go back in time and talk to himself, he would have advised Lan WangJi of then, to say the words locked up tight in his heart. To kiss this lovely boy, so eagerly extending friendship and take it, with both hands. It is because he knows that Wei Ying, as he arrived in the Cloud Recesses, was only ever this youthful, innocent, and happy for such a short, fleeting time. 

Too soon, the winds of war and fate would tear them apart and leave centuries between their reunion.

Lan Zhan watches in awe as Wei Ying presents him a gift of a portrait drawn by his own hand, his face full of animated concentration as he adds the flower in Lan Zhan’s hair. A month of punishment writing out the rules, and still, Wei Ying gives him a book full of pictures that speak of his every hidden desire. His outrage follows, and Lan Zhan must ask himself: is it because he had never seen such explicit material before, or is it because this book showcases and brings to life each of his own secret fantasies? Does this mean Wei Ying knows how he feels?

In a way, it's strange how the sequence of love should go. 

The modern world has steps, basic tenets of building a relationship. First comes a tenuous liking, the prerequisite of attraction. Then finding mutual interests, qualities that one might find enjoyable, laying the foundations of a friendship that could turn into something more. Days, weeks, months might pass by and there's a gradual shifting of perspective, the growth of love or something close to it.

Not for Lan Zhan. 

In between that first attempted strike of Bichen and the lighting of a lantern, making a wish to stand against injustice and do the right thing, Lan Zhan gave all of his constantly increasing love to Wei Ying. 

Like a cart pulled along helplessly by a spooked horse, Lan Zhan is pulled towards Wei Ying, hook, line and sinker. The only difference now is that he wants it. He has fully embraced the idea of loving this man, and not a single thing in the world can get in his way about it, not even Wei Ying himself. Whether or not his love is reciprocated also is irrelevant; it will not change how Lan Zhan feels about Wei Ying. 

Knowing this makes it easier to watch their interactions, how they dealt with the Waterborne Abyss in Biling lake, the fight between Wei Ying and Jin ZiXuan, and Wei Ying’s consequent leaving from the Cloud Recesses. Soon after that, the Cloud Recesses was attacked and burned, and yet Lan Zhan’s mind shows him only relief that the Wen Army had not reached as far remotely as the Jingshi - the treasures he hoarded like a possessive dragon under the floorboards of his home were still safe and intact.

With a fond affection, Lan Zhan sees them reunited in Nightless City and he's amused with Wei Ying’s antics, upon being asked to recite the teachings of the Wen Elders, Wei Ying begins reciting from memory, all the Lan precepts, feigning an unintentional mistake but seriously pissing off Wen Chao. It's a speed run through the punishment he gets, Lan Zhan’s own worry for him while he spent that night in the dungeon, Wei Ying’s return with dried blood around his neck and the edges of his dark robes. Lan Zhan’s eyes are always drawn towards him, no matter what they're doing, or where they are. He notices the details.

Even in a life or death situation, he's watching for Wei Ying to return from the inside of the shell, from the monstrosity that is Xuanwu of Slaughter, half snake, half turtle. Of course, they win. It's a joint effort but Lan Zhan knows he never could have done it without Wei Ying. 

This dream flies past the tragedy of Lotus Pier, the uncertainty of any survivors, of gathering forces and reuniting with his brother. But if Lan Zhan had any regrets, and it's definitely with the aid of hindsight, he wishes he had returned with Wei Ying back to Lotus Pier. Then the three months of agony, of not knowing if he was alive or dead would never have occurred. Searching for him was like looking for pieces of his own soul; Lan Zhan lived a half life during that time. The uncertainty, waiting to know, looking for any kernels of truth among rumours and lies was possibly the hardest time of his life.

It did not help that it was alongside the crankiest man he'd ever met. It took an age to see past Jiang WanYin's anger and frustration, his own suffering after the fall of his homeland, and how much he needed to exact revenge on those who had shown him no mercy.

In a most unusual partnership together, they eventually found Wei Ying. 

Lan Zhan wonders how he could have ever forgotten how. Wei Ying climbed the steps of that supervisory office in the most tense, frightening (for Wen Chao), manner, and his arrival sent shivers up Lan Zhan’s spine. His knowing, confident smirk and how he effortlessly killed his enemies made goosebumps rise all over Lan Zhan’s arms.

But Wei Ying’s stay in the Burial Mounds had changed him forever, stealing away his laughter and joy and replacing them with a thirst for vengeance. This Wei Ying was a live weapon, sharply lethal and fundamentally capable of getting whatever he wanted. 

Lan Zhan had never seen him like this.

It was hard to reconcile the Wei Ying he had known from before with the Wei Ying of this time. Torn between his raging attraction and wanting to bring him back to the orthodox path, Lan Zhan can see how he's tripping up over his own two left feet.

The misunderstandings just grow from there, and Lan Zhan is reluctant to relive these memories, painful as they are. Why hadn't he stopped to think? Why hadn't he found a way to properly invite Wei Ying back to the Cloud Recesses? Not for punishment but to help him. He should have known something was wrong. The normally tactile Wei Ying kept himself surrounded by glass, a fragile existence that threatened his wellbeing and Lan Zhan had to watch him gradually self-destruct. 

If only Lan Zhan had taken the time to stand back and observe him, think about why Wei Ying had changed so drastically. 

But it was a volatile time with sharp, cunning enemies surrounding them. 

The war ends and another begins, this time, a silent creeping one hidden behind shadows and the whispers of power-hungry leaders. Fakely sweet words disguising poisonous actions. One man without an army against thousands. The smallest stone could bring about an avalanche, and that was the whole impact of Wei Ying’s return to the Cultivation World. He brought them a victory that lay beyond their control, winning the Sunshot Campaign for them.

First, they revered him, and then they feared him. After that, it was only a matter of time before they tried to destroy him.

Lan Zhan’s mind brings him to the Phoenix Mountain hunt. A black blindfold and that stolen kiss. Thrown peonies with secret meanings, ghost girls cheering them on and a banquet where a toast is offered to Lan WangJi, not meant for Wei Ying to drink. When Wei Ying grabbed that cup of wine from the Jin asshole's fingers, Lan Zhan went through a personal nirvana. 

Falling in love can happen multiple times, Lan Zhan discovers with awed satisfaction. Like diving into a pool and finding hidden depths, falling deeper and deeper each time. Every situation that he witnesses makes him believe it with a fervent conviction. Wei Ying is amazing. 

A thousand strong cultivators couldn't hold a candle to his Wei Ying, he thinks. Wei Ying had no golden core then, and still he could have fought and won against all of them.

Perhaps that banquet in Lanling was the beginning of his change. Seeing everything happening to Wei Ying again makes Lan Zhan realise how manipulative Jin Guangshan and his bastard progeny were, planting suspicion and doubts in the minds of the influential people gathered in one place. The speculative lies that Jin Guangyao persisted in spreading, aimed at Wei Ying’s inability to defend himself verbally after his show of force and his exit (another shiver-inducing moment), proved that they wanted his Yin Hufu for themselves. 

When Lan Zhan walked out of Koi Tower that day, he knew they were wrong and that Wei Ying was right. But they were many and Wei Ying had no one to stand by him. The Jins refused to listen to reason, even dismissing Luo QingYang's opinion because of misogynistic views and because if they listened to her, they would have had to take a good look at themselves. That was the day Lan Zhan realised how terrible they all were. 

Even his own brother, too lost in being a “good”, diplomatic leader was swept away by false accusations and the confident lies of his sworn brother. It's ironic, Lan Zhan thinks, that the past mirrored the future, that even now, Meng Yao has got his claws into XiChen again. Whether these are the same people in both timelines is irrelevant; Lan Zhan knows he will try to save his brother again, even if he won't listen.

The scene changes again. It's a rainy night and faced against the terrible wishes of dying by his hand, Lan Zhan steps aside to let Wei Ying pass with the people he wants to save. His first glimpse of A-Yuan, the little boy who would become his son in that timeline. All he wanted to do back then was to follow Wei Ying wherever he was going.

Then comes the Yiling date when Lan Zhan purposefully wore his favourite pale blue robes, hoping for a chance meeting with his soulmate. On a cold autumn day, he saw Wei Ying for the first time after months of separation, and although Wei Ying looked gaunt, his welcoming smile lit up Lan Zhan’s heart like a flame. A shared meal where Lan Zhan ordered all the dishes he thought Wei Ying would enjoy, and a bowl of sweet soup for their little one. Hands down, that was the best day of his life. They actually managed to have a whole conversation without a dispute, though Wei Ying was sad by the end of it because Lan Zhan brought news of his sister's wedding and they both knew that Wei Ying would not be allowed to attend.

An emergency with Wen Ning occurring meant Lan Zhan returned to the Burial Mounds with his family, unsure of what he would find there. Quietly letting his heart break when he saw the farmers, the old uncles and aunties, and Wen Popo. All of them, including Wei Ying, were just trying to survive.

He gained a whole family on that day, and was punished for it when he had to leave them to return to the Cloud Recesses. 

After that, the whims of fate and the hatred of individuals bent on the destruction and death of everything Wei Ying held dear caused their lives to implode.

After Wei Ying destroys the Yin Hufu, his discovery of being cursed, Lan Zhan comes full circle, back to the Demon Subduing Cave and Wei Ying’s quick fix of an impossible situation. 

With a gasp, his eyes fly open and he scrambles up, heart racing. Lan Zhan knows without a doubt what he must do now. The key to everything lies with the music. His hands move automatically to his guqin because it is time to play.

Chapter Text

Mo XuanYu wakes up and wishes he hadn't. The sunlight streaming through the curtains is shining right on his face, specifically in his eyes and he rolls over to move out of its way, groaning. Then he feels the softness of the mattress underneath himself and the weight of a blanket that someone covered him with. He shoots up in bed and looks around, confused about where he is. 

This is not his hotel room.

The space is clean and tidy and smells floral and fresh, a decidedly vast improvement on himself. He squints and shifts the thick curtains aside, wondering what time it is. In perpetual summer, Wuhan boasts hot weather all year round, and it looks like siesta time outside because the streets are deserted. The hot sun shimmers in waves descending upon the pavement, heavy and unrelenting.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, noting that it is far too long and wide for himself, Mo XuanYu looks around as his brain kicks into gear.

Fitted closet space on one side, a bedside cabinet with a lamp and the bed he's on, that's all the furniture in here. It looks like a spare bedroom, nothing personal to make it stand out in any way. Then Mo XuanYu remembers the previous hours of drinking after coming home with Luo QingYang.

He bursts out of the room on shaky legs in a panic, and stops suddenly when he spots her sitting by the window, nursing a cup of tea. She's a beautiful woman, striking as she sits there, her body turned towards the light. Mo XuanYu can appreciate the view even if he's not attracted to her. She glances at him, her thoughts disturbed by the interruption of his presence. 

“My phone?” Mo XuanYu asks her, patting his pockets in search of it.

“The battery was dying,” she says, jerking her chin towards it.

She's plugged it in and it's lying on the coffee table, the flat surface now cleared of the mess they had made before. No empty glasses, no bottles and no lemon slices.

“How are you feeling, Mr. I-have-high-tolerance?” She smirks, making him laugh.

Mo XuanYu shrugs and goes to sit down on the couch next to his phone. It's still charging and that means he's only been out of it for a few hours. The time is three in the afternoon, so he wasn't wrong on his guess.

He doesn't have a hangover, and he thanks Luo QingYang for that, making sure he was well hydrated earlier.

“It's cool,” she tells him, her dark brown eyes sparkling.

They're quiet for a few moments, both looking outside. 

Mo XuanYu wonders at that; how is it so calm and peaceful on the outside when his insides are seething with animosity and anger. His recollection of their talk yesterday and the dreadful possibilities he will have to investigate. It's a dangerous kind of fury, and he's shocked at how much he wants to unleash it. If he hated his father before, that was nothing compared to how he feels about the dog turd now. Luo QingYang lets him stew for a bit longer as Mo XuanYu thinks about how he wants to proceed. 

On the one hand, he's sorry for what she went through while working for the Jins. But at the same time, he doesn't think he can do this alone. He needs her help, if she's willing to give it.

“I loved my mother.” His voice is barely above a whisper. 

Luo QingYang immediately puts her cup down and comes to sit by him. She puts an arm around his suddenly cold shoulders, making him shiver.

“Just to be clear, I think of you like my Didi. Is this alright?” She keeps her voice low too, saving the quietness of the fading afternoon. 

“I've never had a sister who actually cared about me before,” Mo XuanYu says, and bursts into tears.

“Oh, oh, you poor boy. Hold onto me,” she tells him, letting him cry on her shoulder. She rubs his back soothingly, trying to comfort him. When his sobs turn into sniffles, she starts talking to him. “A-Yu, I'm going to tell you something really important now.” 

He nods, not letting go of her.

“You have a choice. These four words should become your mantra. You always have choices, even if you can't tell what they are sometimes. You can give yourself time and space to work them out, you can let yourself be sure before you decide what to do.” She hums thoughtfully to herself. “WangJi told me that once. That's when I realised he wasn't so perfect after all, that while he made it look so easy, he too, often struggled with familial obligations and wanting to do something different. He was surprised when I said as much.”

“Where is he?” Mo XuanYu asks her.

“Oooh, sharp cookie.” She smiles at him, leaning back to do it.

“You wanted me to know that,” Mo XuanYu says slowly, realising it now. “That he's not here. Otherwise, you would have made me sleep on the couch and not the spare bedroom. Does that mean you trust me now?”

“That's up to you. If you want our help, that is,” she replies, serious now. “The thing is, I think you're going to need it. You've done the equivalent of kicking a hornet's nest and now you need protection.”

“I want to bring Jin Guangshan down.”

“Then you need evidence.” Luo QingYang pats his back and lets go of him. “We need to gather it secretly, because if he or Meng Yao gets wind of it, we're screwed.”

“You mean, I'm screwed.”

“Nope. I mean we. Do you honestly think Jin Guangshan will only come after you? He's a spiteful man, and he already hates that I was able to get away from him.” She shudders. “But he's let down his guard because I've been a good girl up until now. He's had no cause for concern because I've minded my own business and gotten on with my life. As far as he's thinking, I've put it all behind me.”

“Well, then I'm sorry for bringing it back for you.” Mo XuanYu wipes his face on his sleeves.

“No, you have nothing to be sorry about. You're a good kid, Didi. But that piece of shit belongs behind bars where he can't hurt anyone else. I've made up my mind. I'm going to go after him myself.” 

Mo XuanYu takes a good look at her. She's determined and certain, a deadly combination. 

“Let's do it together,” he says, feeling the flames of justice and retribution begin licking up his insides. He offers his fist and she gives it a bump with hers.

“Okay, the first thing we have to do is set up an online safe place, keep it secret but open to possible victims of that slimeball. We have to warn them that we intend to go public, and they have to be prepared to join us. It's alright if they don't want to, we're not going to force anyone to testify. But we want to be clear that this is going to court. We have to unite, because Jin Guangshan can shut down one voice, two voices, but how is he gonna shut down twenty or thirty? It's going to be hard, but if we can collect the proof, evidence of his crimes, and hit him all at once without letting him retaliate, I think that's our only chance.” 

“You've been thinking about this,” Mo XuanYu approves. “And that's great, because to tell you the truth, I have no idea where to start.”

“Don't worry, A-Yu. I do.” Luo QingYang pulls her laptop out from under the coffee table shelf. “Watch me.”

******************

Luo QingYang sets up an online chat group, with detailed headliners but not mentioning any names. Then she puts out a statement outlining what happened to herself and how therapy helped but how it doesn't feel like enough. 

“Now we let them read this and make their own decisions,” she says quietly, closing her laptop.

“How do I find out about my mother?” Mo XuanYu asks her.

“Where were you born?”

“Mo village. It's a small place, not even a town.”

“Where's the local hospital?”

“On the outskirts of Linyi. My father was on his way home when he met my mother. But I don't want to go there.” Mo XuanYu stares at his hands, lips pressed tightly together trying to hold his emotions inside. 

“That's okay, A-Yu. Nowadays, everything is online. We can contact the hospital, find out who was on duty when you were born and work our way backwards. We just need to go back approximately nine months and you'll have your answers.” Luo QingYang puts a comforting hand on his knee. “I won't ever make you do anything you're uncomfortable with. Alright?”

Mo XuanYu bites his lips together, eyes wet again. He nods, not trusting himself to keep it together. Her straightforward kindness is like an arrow piercing his heart.

Luo QingYang whips out her phone and types with both thumbs, and then places a call.

Mo XuanYu is so relieved that he's barely listening to what she's saying, but he can pick out her making an excuse of needing to contact someone who no longer works at the place where he was born.

“Good news, A-Yu. There's a midwife and a nurse. I've got both of their numbers. Do you want to do this face-to-face, or like this?” She wiggles her phone in front of him. “They're both retired. But unfortunately, the hospital is only obligated to keep paper records for seven years. Then they're digitalised and shredded.”

“Phone.” Mo XuanYu is as sure of this as the knowledge that he never wants to return to Koi Tower. Mo village holds just as much trauma, and no matter where these people now live, he doesn't think he can take hearing something awful having happened to his mother.

“Okay. Do you want details if we're right?”

“No. Just a yes or no.”

“Got it.”

Luo QingYang moves to her balcony where Mo XuanYu can see her but he doesn't have to hear anything specific. She's so thoughtful, he thinks, watching her. 

He remembers his mother, always a young, beautiful woman in his mind. Clever out of necessity, keeping him away from her awful sister and equally worse son. How they both dreamed of a better life where food was plentiful and a warm bed with a roof over their heads was commonplace. Days and weeks spent finding a job that little hands could do, where adults could trust his hardworking efforts and pay him accordingly, anything to get out of the clutches of his horrible Aunt. How his mother fell ill and one morning, when Mo XuanYu woke up, her body was cold to the touch, eyes mercifully closed because she'd passed away in her sleep. He was only fourteen years old, back then.

With nothing to fall back on, no money to his name, when Mo XuanYu found the pearl stashed in a tiny box hidden in an old suitcase, that's how he made the difficult choice to leave. Anything was better than the constant bullying from his aunt and her devil spawn son.

But Koi Tower turned out to be so much worse.

Mo XuanYu startles out of his reverie, looking up when a warm hand is placed on his shoulder. Luo QingYang's face is full of sympathy, and Mo XuanYu knows the answer to his question before she answers.

“I'm sorry, A-Yu. It's a yes.”

**********************

Mo XuanYu ends up telling Luo QingYang all about the artefact found in the Demon Subduing Cave, and how suspicious it was that seemingly ‘good’ kids made their way into the Burial Mounds for a splendid time with fireworks. By the evening, he's told her all about hiring Lan WangJi after several experts died, and also what happened to him in Yiling. He leaves nothing out; the surveillance in their rooms and the high security, his return to Linyi and Koi Tower, and because Luo QingYang has seen the photos of the secret room, they spend hours discussing theories.

“Our weakest link is Lan XiChen,” Luo QingYang says definitively. “I don't understand why he keeps going back to that piece of shit Meng Yao. It's not as if he himself has not been a target - he knows about the hidden cameras and the bugs…so why can't he just break up with the guy?”

“Meng Yao can be persuasive. His most dangerous asset is his tongue, and he knows how to use it,” Mo XuanYu makes a face at the obvious disgust in her expression. “Sorry for the innuendo.”

“That's where the photos come in.” She taps her cheek thoughtfully. “Lan WangJi is hard to get hold of, especially the last few days. If he's sequestered himself with the cauldron, then it's possible that he's made a breakthrough. Either way, we have to separate Meng Yao from his brother, Lan XiChen.”

“How are we going to do that?”

“By taking the bull by its horns. Face to face. We need to meet up with Lan WangJi first, in a way that keeps our presence in the Cloud Recesses hidden. That's our advantage, secrecy.” She stops pacing and stares at him. “What are you doing?”

“Booking first class tickets to Suzhou. Let the Jins pay for everything. They owe us big time.” Mo XuanYu retorts, typing on his phone and then holding up the confirmation of their travel plans so she can see.

She cackles at that. “Alright. Let's pack, head to your hotel and pick up your things, and then we can grab a bite to eat. I don't know about you, but I'm starving.”

“Okay, Jie-Jie.” Mo XuanYu finally lets himself smile.

Meng Yao won't know what's going to hit him.

Chapter Text

Lan Zhan lets his fingers caress the taut strings stretched across the dark cherry wood qin. He closes his eyes and takes a deep centering breath. This moment is full of heavy expectations. He is unsure of the outcome but his heart wants to try, to hope that Wei Ying was right all those years ago.

He remembers when this melody took shape, those fifteen year old fingers already proficient in playing this instrument. He had learned and practiced all the major musical cultivation techniques that some of the elders in his Clan didn't even know properly. 

But this song, this one came directly from his soul. 

That's why, when Wei Ying requested something that would tie their souls together, this was the best option. Throughout hundreds of years, this song has defined them and has the ability to bring them together. The essence of themselves, of Lan Zhan and Wei Ying, intertwined within these notes full of yearning. 

He doesn't need to see where his fingers are on his qin, the instinct is natural after so many years of playing it, in this life as well as the past. Lan Zhan has finally come to terms with who he is, who he was, and who he will be. That past life was full of regret, of words that stayed in his heart, words that should have been spoken to the other half of his soul. And because he hadn't found the courage to do so, it ended up ruining more than one life. But now Lan Zhan is determined to live differently. The first chance he gets, he will tell Wei Ying how much he means to him. He checks his own thoughts and feelings, and he's surprised because it doesn't matter to him, whether or not his love is reciprocated - of course, it would be better if Wei Ying felt the same towards him - but his love isn't dependent on that. The way Lan Zhan feels will be the same irrespective of outside circumstances. A constant in his life, now and forever. It is unconditional. 

As each note rings out, echoing around the Jingshi in this secret room, Lan Zhan opens his eyes, feeling confident and sure of himself. 

With every rendition, Wei Ying appears clearer. At first, his shape was transparent but definitely as Lan Zhan remembered him to be. Now, like a fine line art piece rendered into a three dimensional work, his transparency is diminished, and he looks whole. 

Lan Zhan isn't taking any risks though, so he continues to play even when Wei Ying remains the same after multiple repeats of their song. He only stops when Wei Ying places his hands on top of Lan Zhan’s fingers, the presence hardly there but enough to suspend their movement. 

The last note echoes, pulsating into nothing.

“Wei Ying.”

“Lan Zhan, Sweetheart. You can stop now.”

“How do you know? I can't feel you,” Lan Zhan tells him, placing a hand over theirs to make his point.

“I just do. I think this is as good as it's going to get.” Wei Ying smiles at him.

He has so many smiles, all different ones with a variety of meanings. This one is a little sad, though.

“We can't give up. I won't.” Lan Zhan vows, attempting to start playing again. 

“Lan Zhan, stop. We need to talk.”

Fear hits him like lightning zapping up his spine. Wei Ying sounds so serious and it's as out of place as a donkey at a wedding. He's seen Wei Ying have so many moods; teasing, joking, having fun, and yet he can count on one hand how many times Wei Ying dispenses with those to become like this. All traces of mirth and amusement have left him and his usually sparkling silver eyes are instead, gravely earnest.

“Wei Ying…” Lan Zhan struggles to find the right words. If Wei Ying is serious about this, then so is he. But countless misunderstandings between them fire his cautiousness. “I cannot lose you again.” To his horror, his eyes begin to blur and tears roll down his cheeks. Perhaps, the best way forward is to be as honest as he can be, to simply say what he feels.

Wei Ying’s eyes widen in shock and it's a vain attempt for him to wipe under Lan Zhan’s eyes; it's futile and leaves them both frustrated when he can't touch him.

“Sweetheart, I don't want to lose you, either.” Wei Ying looks so sad now. “But I really don't know what to do. I can feel it in my body, this shape, it's me as you remember how I was, and you were right. We were right, to use your song as the key to bring me back. But corporeal bodies are made from the elements and cannot withstand time. I don't think there was a way to preserve my body from back then.” He gestures to himself. “This is it.”

“Wei Ying, by now, you must know how I feel about you. I will take you any way I can.” Lan Zhan stares back at him, pouring every ounce of what he feels into his expression. “This form is also beautiful to me. I do not care about your body. Wei Ying is Wei Ying, and that's all that matters.”

“Did you mean it? Back then…” Wei Ying looks away, his voice wobbling. “When you brought me back to the Demon Subduing Cave, you said–”

“I love you. Yes, I meant it. It is true. It was true then, and it's true now. My feelings haven't changed. No, that is a lie,” he adds as Wei Ying’s gaze snaps back to him, “I love you even more. That's the only difference.” Lan Zhan gives him a tiny smile.

Wei Ying wails, covering his face with his hands. “Lan Zhan! I'm banning you from being so sincere! Jail for Lan Zhan! Jail for a thousand years!”

“That will not stop me,” Lan Zhan smirks. He missed this. How wonderful it feels to have Wei Ying on the backfoot, unable to take his honesty. “I would kiss you now, but I can't feel you. That is my regret. But if we can still be together, I will take this over nothing. And…I want to apologise to you.”

Wei Ying looks back at him for that. “Why? You haven't done anything wrong!”

“I told you that I didn't believe I was your Lan Zhan. But I am.” Of this, he's absolutely certain. 

“Wow…what a mind-fuck, right?”

“Mn.”

Wei Ying giggles. “I missed that! I didn't know how much until just now.” He looks at Lan Zhan full of affection. “Lan Zhan, you will always be my Zhiji. The person who knows me best. I love you the most.” He shifts and shuffles over on his knees to plant himself on Lan Zhan’s lap. Looking back at the low table that passed through him, he laughs some more. “At least furniture won't be a problem.”

To have Wei Ying so close feels amazing even if he isn't solid. His expression is full of warmth and happiness, his shimmering silver eyes joyful and soft. “Not gonna lie, it's kind of frustrating. I really want to kiss you. I want you to kiss me. We really wasted our time together, back then, huh?”

“I don't think any love is wasted. We were too young to understand what we felt, and by the time–”

“It was too late.” Wei Ying nods in agreement. “But then, so much was going on. Even after the Sunshot Campaign, when the war was over, those monsters didn't want peace. They sacrificed everything for power.”

“In this life too, there is a man called Jin Guangshan, and he is just as prolific a serial womaniser as the one from our past. His illegitimate son is also called Meng Yao, who is currently in a relationship with my brother.” Lan Zhan glares at the floor. “But despite the man's treachery, my brother refuses to see him as the slimy no-good piece of trash he is.”

“Wow. That bad, huh?” Wei Ying attempts to rub his shoulder sympathetically. 

Lan Zhan nods, unable to feel it physically but comforted nonetheless. Wei Ying understands. How great is this feeling? To no longer be alone, to know that there's someone on his side, someone to stand at his back and defend him? He now has someone to talk to, someone to confide in. Someone he can confess all his hopes and dreams with. Someone to whom he can open up his heart to and not be judged for his vulnerabilities. 

“Back then, Meng Yao would have done anything for his father to acknowledge him as his son. Didn't Jin Guangshan give him his name?”

“Mn. But he made the distinction of lineage by not giving him a name starting with Zi. Like ZiXuan and ZiXun. I am sure that a man as sharp as him was fully aware of the slight.”

“Hmm, I never paid attention to that. But I've been meaning to ask you something.” Wei Ying chews on his bottom lip, the action so familiar that it makes Lan Zhan want to weep at what they've lost.

“Anything,” he offers, his voice thick with emotion. “Wei Ying may ask me anything and I will answer. Always.”

“Okay…okay.” Wei Ying thinks for a moment, as if weighing what he wants to ask in his mind. “So, you know we did all that,” his hand waves nonchalantly towards the cauldron a little further away from them.

“Mn.”

“And I made you forget me.”

Lan Zhan nods, again, not trusting himself to speak. It feels like an unfathomable punishment, to make his memory blank, to erase the best part of him. The reason he was able to live. If he had to define his life back then, it has clean boundaries of living before Wei Ying and not really doing that afterwards. Forgetting such a vital part of someone who became a piece of himself seems unnecessarily harsh. But it needed to be done.

“See, I've been thinking about that. Actually, I have two questions. The first one is, do you think that Jin Guangshan had something to do with putting the Death curse on me? And secondly, what did you do afterwards? I am not entirely sure what happened to me. I think that's why my memories are sketchy, because I fused myself to you, and we had jointly cursed you to forget me, so it stands to reason that I'd also be affected.” He taps his nose, still thinking.

“That makes sense.” Lan Zhan thinks back to that first life. “There was always something missing. I could never stop feeling that way. The cultivators led a siege on the Burial Mounds, you know that. I was…they said I was possessed by your spirit, but I had no idea what they were talking about. Who they kept referring to. All I knew was that I had to defend that cave from outsiders, even if they were members of my own Clan. I injured thirty three elders. They brought me back to the Cloud Recesses and whipped me with the Discipline Whip. When I could stand again, I went back to the Burial Mounds even though I was feverish and could not say why I needed to go back there. 

“I found A-Yuan hidden in a hollowed out tree stump. He had a fever too, and it was a struggle to reach home again, but we did it. However, that excursion cost me extra time to heal, though XiChen allowed A-Yuan to visit me once a week. Once I could sit again, I changed that and brought A-Yuan to live with me. I gave him his courtesy name. Lan SiZhui.”

Wei Ying smiles sadly. “To hope. I bet that really suited him. He was such a happy child. He did give us hope, when we lived together. He was always smiling, no matter what, but even then, he was astute enough to know when someone was angry or upset. I think he carried the trauma of the work camps, to recognise that angry expressions, people shouting meant danger. The Burial Mounds was no place to raise a child but he made it better. For all of us.”

“He was a happy child. The fever he had when I brought him home made him lose his memories.” Lan Zhan thinks back to that time, so long ago. It feels as if it happened not that far into the past, his memories crystal clear as if he's remembering events of days ago, not empty lifetimes. But then other things slot into place. “There were times when he would tap his nose like you used to do, when he was thinking over a particularly difficult problem, and my chest would ache without cause. Sometimes, he would tilt his head just so, and it would give me severe headaches, and I had no explanation for this. When he was older, he liked to make promises sealed with three fingers joined together, pointing towards the earth and the heavens, and then touching his temple. I had not seen anyone in the Cloud Recesses do that, it was not our way. I thought he must have unconsciously picked it up from a caretaker, someone he was close to. When I tried to remember, it brought terrible migraines so I stopped.”

“He used to love anything that could fly,” Wei Ying reminisces. “Stories about dragons and phoenixes, mythical birds, but I remember, he loved butterflies. You even bought him one made from bamboo. He really loved playing with it. When we went home that night, he showed it to everyone proudly.”

“Wei Ying, he grew up well,” Lan Zhan reassures him. “He made friends easily and formed a quartet with another, Lan JingYi, your ShiJie's son, Jin Rulan, and Zizhen Ouyang, from Baling. Even in that life, the Jins were responsible for terrible things. Nie Huaisang exposed Jin Guangshan, and then later, Jin Guangyao because they murdered his brother, sending him into early Qi deviation. That was a huge scandal.”

They're quiet, both lost in thought.

Lan Zhan thinks about Wei Ying’s questions. It feels like he's hit the nail on the head with his theory about the Jins having something to do with the Flame curse. At the time, Jin Guangshan could barely hide his lust for the Yin Hufu…Lan Zhan gasps. 

“What is it?” Wei Ying turns to look into his eyes. “You figured something out, right?”

“It is speculation, but look.” Lan Zhan takes out his phone and scrolls through the pictures Mo XuanYu sent him. “Mo XuanYu, another illegitimate son of Jin Guangshan, discovered these documents hidden in a secret room in Meng Yao’s quarters. Not only is the Flame curse of Death there, but he found other, despicable things. Items used for torturing, extraction of information from unwilling participants. It is disturbing.”

“That is amazing,” Wei Ying nods towards his screen. “What is it? Is it powered by an array? Where is its energy source?” His fascination for anything new was contagious, but Lan Zhan knows they don't have time to indulge in this. 

“I will explain what it is later. It is called a phone. Please focus.”

Wei Ying nods again, and Lan Zhan thinks that if he had a physical body, he would be blushing by now. He stops himself wondering about how much more beautiful Wei Ying would look if he did that. Not the time, he reminds himself, feeling acute disappointment. 

“You mean to tell me there's a whole-ass room behind that looking glass?” Wei Ying exclaims, when Lan Zhan slowly swipes along the pictures on his phone. “That's genius. I never would have guessed that!”

“Mn.” 

They go over the contents of the room. Wei Ying is curiously silent when he sees the instruments designed to hurt and the steel table. He takes a shuddering, deep breath and then nods so that Lan Zhan can show him the next picture. Lan Zhan thinks it would have been easier to see again, the unthinkably painful looking tools, but it isn't. 

Wei Ying pauses on the Flame curse array. 

“I suppose the Jins are the obvious answer,” Wei Ying hums to himself. “Remember at the Phoenix Mountain hunt, Jin Guangshan kept bringing up the Yin Hufu. He repeatedly offered to take it off my hands, saying it would be safer with him. As if!” He scoffs with disdain. “Just about as safe as any woman's virtue, with him.”

“Mo XuanYu suspects that's what they're still after. It explains their interest in your cooking vessel.” Lan Zhan hides a smile thinking about it. That such an inconspicuous item would be used to safeguard such treasures. But the Jins, in their covetous desire to find and hoard priceless artefacts is not surprising. Wei Ying knows all about Meng Yao and his crafty ways now.

“Well, too bad for him that I destroyed it, then.” Wei Ying grins. “Are you going to tell him what you found inside the cauldron?”

To his great embarrassment, Lan Zhan’s stomach grumbles loudly, having been ignored until now.

“Sweetheart, I think you should eat something,” Wei Ying says, standing up and holding his hand out to Lan Zhan. 

They both realise at the same time that it's a pointless gesture. Wei Ying covers up his mistake with a laugh, but it still sounds sad.

Then Lan Zhan has another thought. “Are you bound to this place?”

“I don't know,” Wei Ying replies, looking up the stairs where he's currently drifting. “Let's find out.”

Chapter Text

It's past midnight when Luo QingYang and Mo XuanYu reach Suzhou. They tried to sleep on the train and managed a few hours each, enough so that their alertness is fifty percent from the gained rest, and fifty percent adrenaline because of what they are here to do.

Mo XuanYu has already shown Luo QingYang the blueprints of the Cloud Recesses. It's a layout of the main buildings and she's got the general idea of where they're heading. They even have a plan. And to her credit, she only raised a brow about him having such sensitive data on his phone to begin with. But anyone who works with Meng Yao is always prepared, not just because the man himself has such high, exacting standards.

Luo QingYang suggested going to the Jingshi under the cover of darkness, and so Mo XuanYu pointed out a path from the carpark that led to the back hills. Just a bit further from the excavation site, the Jingshi will be easier to reach from there. More importantly, it's so far back on the immense property that at this time of night, they won't meet anyone. It is an unguarded, out of the way route. It's not a good idea to alert Meng Yao of their presence, though Mo XuanYu would prefer to talk to the police first, before any confrontation happens with him.

There are many factors at play here. 

In order to remove any support Meng Yao would expect from XiChen, they have to discredit him without mercy. To do that, more than one voice needs to be present, alongside photographic and documented proof that will leave no doubts in anyone's mind. So they must proceed with caution; any mistakes will likely lead to giving away their advantage and allowing Meng Yao to escape the teeth of justice. He's a wily, slippery eel and they need to get their act together if they're going to successfully bring him down. Each stepping stone that leads to exposing his crimes must be walked upon carefully because there'll be no going back once they start. He must not be allowed to circumvent suspicion by his eloquence; Jin Guangshan once praised his ability to talk his way out of anything by claiming Meng Yao could sell air to an idiot if he had the mind to.

The taxi drops them off in the well-lit parking lot of the Cloud Recesses, located at the base of the mountain. There are clear, huge signs pointing towards the public footpath, a winding staircase of more than a thousand steps that lead up to the ancient Ivory pillars, a gateway into the institute that has remained standing since the founder of the Lan Clan first erected them, looking to settle down in one place.

Mo XuanYu grins, looks around to make sure they're not being observed and then takes Luo QingYang by the arm and brings her over to a nondescript hedgerow. It's hiding a tiny low gate, unobtrusive and camouflaged so well that anyone not directly seeking it would miss it entirely. Mo XuanYu lightly vaults over it and then helps her cross the ridiculous barrier as well.

She digs her heels in when it looks like they're going to force their way through overgrowth and bracken.

“Seriously?” 

“Ahuh,” Mo XuanYu laughs silently. “It's hidden for a reason, you know. Were you expecting signs?”

“I suppose not,” she replies, squaring her shoulders. “Let me go first though. We don't know what's up there.” She pushes past him, gently nudging him aside and totally missing his disbelief. 

“People don't usually bother,” he murmurs, quickly following her up the steep hill.

“Hm?” Luo QingYang pulls out her phone and locates the torch app. 

“We can't risk anyone seeing us,” Mo XuanYu protests immediately, and she guiltily switches it off. “Who doesn't bother with what?” she persists, when it looks like he won't clarify. 

“People don't usually bother with putting themselves in front of me. In Koi Tower especially, it's every man for themselves. Or woman.” He swallows thickly, surprised at himself for being emotional over something reasonably trivial.

“The sooner you're out of that vipers’ nest, the better,” she replies, pursing her lips.

It takes them a moment to adjust their eyes to the returning inky darkness, and then Mo XuanYu's sharp eyes see a metal chain looping from post to post adjacent to the path where the ground is especially uneven as it rises in an incline. 

“Let's do this,” he offers, standing in front of her and grabbing the chain with his left hand. “Hold onto my shirt from the back and we can climb up in single file.”

“Why don't you hold onto MY shirt?” She's scowling into the night, and just her tone makes Mo XuanYu chuckle.

“Whatevs.” But he lets her go first.

The climb up the mountainside is slow going and in parts, quite dangerous. The gradually sharpening incline turns into rocky steps half way through that are almost vertical at some places, and they're uneven. Loose stones add to the tricky navigation and the damp mists have wetted the cold stones making their journey treacherous. Mo XuanYu makes the mistake of looking behind himself and teeters in place, hit with sudden vertigo.

“Watch it!” Luo QingYang hisses, grabbing his wrist to steady him behind her. She glances back and straight away, she knows what happened. “A-Yu, are you alright? Eyes up front. That's rule number one when you're going upwards. Mountain, escalator, cable car. Anything.”

“M'fine,” Mo XuanYu mumbles, embarrassed. He knows that, and he's ashamed he didn't remember. 

“Let's swap,” she replies firmly, grabbing his waist and guiding him in front of herself. “Being the leader makes you focus. Oh, and don't look over the side, either. Whoever built this back path evidently ran out of funding.”

He snickers, feeling better. “Alright. But at least tell me why? About looking down the side.” Mo XuanYu begins the climb. The adrenaline has worn off and he's contemplating whether this move of infiltrating the Cloud Recesses in the middle of the night is worth risking their lives. 

“It's a sheer drop in some parts. I think nobody's used this way to enter the Cloud Recesses for ages, or it's meant to be a deterrent. Just sayin’.”

Lichen growing on the slippery steps makes their ascent even more dangerous and Mo XuanYu fires up his attention to concentrate on the winding path ahead. The trail is reduced to sturdy logs embedded in the damp soil in other parts, making their shoes muddy. Each squelch brings them one step closer towards their target, and soon, they stop talking so that they're not discovered.

****************

Three hours later, they reach a plateau of low grassy hills and see a small dark building on the other side of a tiny creek. There's a picturesque stone bridge built over the waterway, with huge stone slabs that make a path to the back of the Jingshi. Although Mo XuanYu has been here before, in the dark, the familiarity is lost because everything takes on surreal shadowy forms. The trees look like people stretching their arms towards them, ready to grab them up from the ground. The wind hisses through the leaves and it's hard not to feel as if they're being watched.

It's a clear night and the stars are bright above them in the navy sky. In a few hours, the clock tower will begin chiming at five and the early risers will start moving about. They've got to be inside the Jingshi by then.

“I have to say,” Mo XuanYu tells Luo QingYang with a hint of admiration in his voice, “this was a genius idea. Professor Lan hiding. Pretending not to be here.”

“A-Yu, this isn't our first rodeo with the Jins. If they can be sneaky, we must be sneakier.” She makes a face. “Although I really hope this is the last time I have to deal with them.”

Mo XuanYu silently agrees.

Where the water is most shallow, someone has thoughtfully placed great slabs of concrete to make another stepping stone path to the other side. Inky swirls splash musically beneath their feet as they make their way across to the other side. Mo XuanYu looks around in wonder.

Usually at this time of night, he would be asleep if he was lucky, and so he's never had the chance to see the world like this. It's as if an artist only had black and indigo paints at his disposal and decided to colour everything in different hues of concentrated ink, diluting the lighter parts with washed out blues. The blackish blue night extends across his horizon well past the midnight dark trees stretching out ahead, and highlights the short stubby lighter blue colour of the grasses dried on the ground. It's like being transported into one of those tea sets he'd often seen in antique shops, cobalt blue and white porcelain depicting a village or a street.  

The world feels as if it's holding an anticipatory breath, waiting.

It's peaceful until it suddenly isn't. 

One loud caw is all it takes for the branches of the pine and cedars they're surrounded by to come alive. Immediately, the skies darken with the flurry of wings taking flight, the shrieks and screams of the ravens and crows deafening around them.

Luo QingYang roots around in her handbag and fishes out a bag of peanuts, quickly casting them far and wide away from them. She ducks low, pulling Mo XuanYu down with her.

“Where did all these birds come from?” She whisper-cries out, her eyes wide with shock as they dive-bomb for the food.

“They've been following the cauldron,” Mo XuanYu tells her, remembering it now.

“So what, like, guarding it?” It's hard to keep the disbelief out of her tone.

“Yeah. The theory is, the Yiling Laozu kept them as pets. He was kind to them and whenever he attacked anywhere, history says his arrival was preceded by the birds of the night.”

She actually laughs. “Wow, that's wrong on so many levels.”

“What do you mean?” He's mystified.

“Everyone knows ravens and crows aren't nocturnal. Wait, are you seriously googling it? Now?” She balks at him, giving his shoulder a hard push.

He giggles, not stopping his fingers from typing out his search. “When else? And you think I'm gonna believe everything I'm told?”

“You believe the “history” stuff!” She even makes the speech marks with the fingers of both her hands.

This whole conversation has been whispered between them, so they both notice when the silence descends upon them. Slowly, they look up from each other.

“Fuck, that's not creepy at all,” Luo QingYang murmurs sarcastically. 

She's referring to the veritable sea of black-feathered birds quietly watching them from the ground where they've picked it clean of her offering in a matter of seconds, their dark eyes pools of judgement. 

Luo QingYang is watching them back with the same amount of caution. “You know what? There's more of them than us. We better show some respect,” she adds, bowing low. When her forehead hits the ground and she realises that Mo XuanYu is still gaping at her, she yanks him down hard. In a louder voice, she speaks to them as one. “We need your help,” she says, loud enough for her voice to carry but not enough to give them away. “Lan WangJi is in there,” she points towards the Jingshi, “and we need to talk to him. I promise you, we're friends.”

One raven beautifully glossy with impeccable feathers hops up towards them. He rocks his head this way and that, perhaps undecided on whether or not to trust them.

“Caw,” he chirrups softly, and from the other answering birds, it feels like they're voting on what to do.

Luo QingYang holds her hand out, fingers extended, waiting. She looks only at her hand, the memory of watching a documentary about gorillas viewing eye contact as an aggressive sign still sharp in her mind. The raven hops forward a little closer, and then while he's watching her closely, he lets his beak touch the soft pads of her fingers.

“Caw?” it's almost a purr.

“Please.” Luo QingYang glances at the Jingshi. 

The building is all dark with absolutely no light spilling from the windows. Lan WangJi has done a fine job of making it look like he's not inside. But if these birds decide not to let them pass, then they're going to make it very difficult for Mo XuanYu and Luo QingYang not to give Lan WangJi away. Dawn has already made the sky much paler even if there's still a few hours until sunrise.

“Oh. My. God.” Mo XuanYu's disbelief is apparent in his voice. He reaches over to clutch her free hand tightly, so firmly that she wonders about the condition of her blood circulation.

She follows his gaze towards the one little fellow who had come to check them out. The raven comically hops towards the Jingshi instead of flying the short distance and when he passes a certain point, the entire place shimmers like a bride covered by her wedding veil. The bird cocks his head to one side when he reaches the door as if he's listening for something. Once he's satisfied, he knocks on the door three times, very sharply. They see one of the curtains on the adjacent window twitch slightly and then ten seconds later, the door opens.

Lan WangJi stands on the threshold, taking all of them in. When he sees Luo QingYang, the relief on his face is palpable, and he nods at her. Then he crouches down and pets his friend with far more enthusiasm than he greeted the humans, and when they get closer, Lan WangJi rises to fix Mo XuanYu with an intense stare.

“He's alright, A-Zhan. He's on our side now,” Luo QingYang reassures him by putting her hand on Mo XuanYu's shoulder. 

For a few moments, Mo XuanYu wants to relax. He really does think of these people as his family now, especially Luo QingYang. 

But then, Professor Lan says to him, “Good. But if you betray us, I will kill you.”

Chapter Text

At least he's being honest, Mo XuanYu thinks as he bows. “Professor Lan, you saw the pictures. There's no way I can even pretend to like my family. I'm a hundred percent on board.”

Luo QingYang nods approvingly at him.

The raven gives them a warning look before he returns to his friends as they reach the threshold of the Jingshi. Lan WangJi still hasn't moved out of the way yet. He seems reluctant to do so.

“There have been…developments,” he says enigmatically.

“That's great,” Luo QingYang replies, equally enthusiastic about them, “but shit's gonna hit the fan if you don't let us in right now. I'm gonna assume Meng Yao has eyes on this place. If they see us, we're done for.”

She makes a lot of sense and it's a sight to see Lan WangJi lower his tense barriers by stepping aside.

“Are you hungry?” He's still the perfect host.

“Starving,” Mo XuanYu beams at him, quite relaxed as soon as the door closes behind them. He hadn't realised how stressful it had been to actually get here, and now that they've reached their destination, he can let his guard down.

Luo QingYang looks around the dim house - they can barely make out anything in the absence of any light. There's only a pale glow coming from a room to their right. Lan WangJi leads them into the kitchen where he insists they wash their hands in the dark while he heats up three plastic containers in the microwave. The kitchen fills with the mouthwatering scent of onions and garlic, and all three quickly dig in. There is only the sound of chopsticks clicking as they eat as fast as they can.

Mo XuanYu smiles to himself. This is about as far as he can get from golden tables with matching cutlery and a ten course breakfast, but it is so much better in every way. Despite Professor Lan's immediate threat, he's never felt safer. His place in Koi Tower was and still is, filled with treacherous vipers, and he's never ever been able to fully relax there. Here, he's with people he can trust, and a big sister who doesn't share any blood and yet is the best example of someone actively looking out for him. How can he complain?

“Thanks, that was delicious, even if I couldn't see what I was eating,” Luo QingYang tells Lan WangJi.

They wash up as best as they can, and then keeping his voice low, Lan WangJi gives them a warning.

“I am about to bring you into my hidden place. You will see unbelievable things…” he pauses as if debating whether to do it at all.

“A-Zhan…if you don't want to do this, it's alright. There's still time for us to escape the way we came,” Luo QingYang touches his sleeve briefly to reassure him. “We can still help you from the outside.”

“I think we should call the police at some point. Definitely call Meng Yao out in public, that way, he can't hide behind any misunderstandings.” Mo XuanYu states firmly.

“That's not why I hesitate to take you down,” Lan WangJi admits. “Perhaps I should just show you. Let you decide for yourselves.” He nods to himself and then doesn't wait for their reactions, simply leads them into his bedroom where the light is coming from what is basically an opening in the ground where a staircase leads down.

This behaviour cements in Mo XuanYu's mind that Lan WangJi is inherently a good person. That he's willing to entrust them with something incredibly important, something that is secret, something that he admits will defy their sense of normality. Mo XuanYu finds that he not only admires Lan WangJi as his mentor, but that he also really likes him as a person. Just the straightforward way he's being with them has Mo XuanYu pledging the rest of his loyalty to him in a way that neither any of his siblings nor his father has managed to get from him.

The gradual brightness of the room below allows them to adjust to the difference in the light as they take in their surroundings for the first time.

Mo XuanYu sees the sleeping bag, the empty cauldron with the missing lid, then the now broken lid reassembled a bit further away and the ghost.

He does a double take.

“Who's that?” He blurts out, stepping back out of instinct rather than fear.

“Holy shit!” Luo QingYang stares at the ghost and then immediately punches Lan WangJi on his shoulder. To his credit, he doesn't move at all but his lips twitch in amusement. “You've been holding back on us!”

“Lan Zhan! I like your friends!” The ghost says brightly, far happier than any ghost should be.

Mo XuanYu wonders at that because his own experience with ghosts has been pretty limited. In fact, he used to be on the fence about their existence at all…until now.

“Well?” Luo QingYang demands, fearlessly stalking forward. “Aren't you going to introduce us?”

“Luo QingYang, this is Wei WuXian, birth name Wei Ying, otherwise known as the Yiling Laozu.” Lan WangJi replies dutifully, nodding to Mo XuanYu to also come forward and join her. “This is Mo XuanYu, my intern.”

“Oh my fucking God!” Mo XuanYu breathes out, not even blinking at him, he's so shocked. “What the fuck!”

“Mianmian? Mianmian!!”

“Fuck, how do you know that?” She demands, looking in between Lan WangJi and Wei WuXian.

Wei WuXian laughs deprecatingly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ah, I don't know. I just…I knew someone called that. A long time ago.”

“They might not be the same person,” Lan WangJi says softly. His eyes are even more gentle when he looks towards the ghost.

“How are you real?” Mo XuanYu moves even closer and pokes him, staring in wonder and shock when his finger goes through the apparition to touch the wall behind Wei WuXian. “I mean, not that this isn't like, so cool, but what the fuck!??” he repeats, eyes wide open. His voice is becoming higher and higher.

“You need to start talking,” Luo QingYang decides, and she plants herself on the floor. She pulls Mo XuanYu down beside her. “And then we have to decide what we're going to do next.”

“That's reasonable.” Lan WangJi goes to sit down on his sleeping bag, and without being requested to, Wei WuXian joins him.

The way they're both looking at each other makes Mo XuanYu feel as if he's intruding on something private, and when he glances at Luo QingYang, she's blushing too, and trying to hide it.

Lan WangJi starts from the beginning and tells them everything, from how he discovered the items inside the cauldron and figuring out that the music was the key, all of his dreams detailing what he's discovered up until now to their present situation.

“Wow. That's some trip,” Luo QingYang remarks when he's finished.

“Trip?” Wei WuXian looks around at everyone. “I'm assuming we're not talking about going from A to B.”

“Drug related,” the usually stoic and inexpensive Professor Lan replies.

Mo XuanYu didn't even suspect before that he was capable of making jokes. The ghost throws back his head and laughs. It's such a musical sound and once again, Mo XuanYu can't miss the fond affection on Lan WangJi's face. He still looks the same; in fact, hardly anything changes but his golden eyes, going from sunlight reflecting on a frozen pond to electric, lightning flashing in a dark sky.

“Have you really recalled everything about your past life?” Luo QingYang persists. She's still genuinely freaked out by that and trying to process the magnitude of it.

“Everything relating to Wei Ying,” Professor Lan replies affirmatively.

He's so sure about it. All of it, from how he lost the love of his life to his return in this one. Mo XuanYu wants to cry at that. It feels like such a tragedy for both of them, to spend so much time apart. And what a miracle it is that they've found each other again.

“Will you stay like that?” He wonders out loud.

“You mean like this?” Wei WuXian points to himself. “I think so. There's not really any way to simply make a body out of nothing. We're talking about two planes of existence, both very different. One is made of the fundamental elements, part of the physical realm, and the other is based on subtle boundaries. I doubt if the two can be merged.”

“Well, I might have something that can help you,” Mo XuanYu replies. He brings his backpack around to the front of his body and unzips it, bringing out the laminated documents.

Wei WuXian flies through the low table to have a look. He's stunned with terrified disbelief. “You brought them here?”

“Yeah…where else would I take them? And anyway, you made them. Of course I'd bring them to you.” Mo XuanYu scoffs, pushing the four papers towards him.

“Not this one, I didn't!” Wei WuXian glares at the third one. It's the Flame array. The Death Curse.

“So…I'm a big fan of yours,” Mo XuanYu continues as if Wei WuXian hasn't said anything.

Wei WuXian rolls his eyes.

“I am!” Mo XuanYu insists. “And I'm willing to use this one.” He singles out the Soul Summoning Curse.

Wei WuXian explodes with curse words, using a whole dictionary of them and aiming them all at him. Lan Zhan has never seen him this angry before.

“Fuck, do you know what this entails?” Wei WuXian jabs at the paper. “It swaps out your soul for whoever you're calling up, and you are cursing them to carry out an act of vengeance on your behalf that if they don't carry out, their soul will be destroyed just as yours will be. Curses are no fucking joke, Mo XuanYu!”

Mo XuanYu considers this. He's surprised by how much he doesn't mind doing it with regard to his own feelings. If vengeance could be achieved against his father and all the pain and suffering that man has caused on the world and the female population at large, just in exchange for giving up his own body, he's willing to do it. To lose the connection between himself and his scumbag of a Sperm Donor, the bastard who raped his mother and countless others. It's a price he's willing to pay.

“A-Yu, I can see on your face how much you are really considering this,” Luo QingYang tells him, pulling him out of his thoughts. “But we've got a job to do. Right now, we've just started. But if we can get enough support online, we'll be able to get justice for all those women out there. Including your mother. Think about her. Would she want you to do something as drastic as this?” She puts her arm around him, pulling him closer to herself. “Think about me. As your big sister, I'm asking you to reconsider. I don't want you to give up your body. We can find another way, but you have your whole life ahead of you.”

“But Jie-Jie, what kind of life? I don't want to be a product of that. To be the result of something so violent, unwanted.” These words have been sitting inside his heart for a while now. They're finally free.

It's only when Luo QingYang wipes his cheeks with her sleeve that he realises he's crying.

“Your beginning might have started out that way, but I am sure your mother loved you. As your sister, and someone older than you, I have enough experience to tell you truthfully that however you're feeling now, there is no need to be discouraged. I promise you with all of my heart, bad times don't stay. They go away and aren't you due for the good times to come now?” She's crying too. “Everyone deserves a chance to live their lives, A-Yu. You can stay with me forever. I'll look after you, and it'll be me and you against the world. You're not alone anymore. You have me.”

“Mo XuanYu, you have me as well,” Professor Lan says in his deep voice, full of authority. “You are not alone.” He pushes a new bottle of water towards him.

“Go on, it'll make you feel better.” Luo QingYang encourages him, giving his waist a squeeze.

All this while, Wei WuXian has been studying the laminated sheets of paper. He looks up at Lan WangJi full of excitement now.

“Wei Ying, you found something?” Professor Lan asks him. Again, it's just his eyes glowing with excitement.

“Yep, damn straight I have!” Wei WuXian whoops, pumping a fist in the air. “With some tweaking, mind you, but I think we can bring me back. With a body. Like I was before.”

Three people stare back at him full of amazement.

Chapter Text

Meng Yao shifts on the bed painfully, his whole body aching in muscles that he didn't know existed. Yesterday's attack by those frightening birds has left him shaken but at the same time, his gut feeling is that something is going on inside the Jingshi. He can't explain it.

He's got eyes and ears in Wuhan where Lan WangJi is staying with Luo QingYang, and he knows that Mo XuanYu has gone there too, which is great because in his opinion, you can never have too much surveillance. His spies have reported back that Luo QingYang has taken Mo XuanYu back to her apartment, and he supposes that that's a normal thing to happen. 

Back home in Linyi, things are quiet there also. It is a rare moment of peace.

His phone rings then, shattering it and he silently curses himself for not putting it on the Do Not Disturb mode. He picks up the phone and answers, and then immediately wishes he hadn't. It's his father…who really should be asleep by now.

“Good morning,” he forces himself to say, injecting false cheer into his tone.

“Is it?” Barks his dad sharply, so no, it isn't anymore. “Why aren't you pushing that boyfriend of yours?”

Meng Yao forces himself to get up out of bed where XiChen is asleep right next to him. If they're going to have what should be a private conversation, then he can't do it here where his boyfriend, the very one being discussed at the moment, can hear. His stiff muscles protest, wanting him to lie down again, and Meng Yao wonders somewhat petulantly whether he can hang up on his father and make it look like it was accidental. Then he thinks if anyone in the history of telephones being invented would have had the guts to hang up on such a formidable man before. Probably not.

That's the thing, isn't it?

Jin Guangshan is known to be a philandering misogynistic playboy, with not a single faithful blood cell in his body. But isn't that just a cover for his ruthless, manipulative personality? He's as sharp as they come and Meng Yao would do well to remember that. He might have attributed his success to sleeping with influential women to rise up to the top of his field, but behind all that botox and anti-aging makeup lies a formidable and calculating opponent. The truth is, Meng Yao cannot afford to get on his bad side. He quickly dons a sleeping robe that belongs to Lan XiChen and gently slides the door to the balcony open. It's so much colder outside, and he welcomes the chill that clears his mind from the fogginess of residual sleep. He only answers once the door noiselessly slides shut behind himself and he's looking out across the university campus.

“How should I be pushing him, father? Lan WangJi is away in Wuhan though XiChen is keeping in touch with him. The cauldron is here.” Meng Yao tries valiantly to keep the impatience out of his voice. The end game, he reminds himself, is to remove this blight on humanity permanently, and if all goes according to plan then that date is five years away, give or take a few days.

“Do you think I am where I am because of complacency? Sitting back and letting things happen by themselves has never been our way! Haven't I taught you that much?” His voice becomes louder and louder as Meng Yao’s headache, both the one in his temple and the walking talking one on the other end of this conversation grows worse. 

Meng Yao refrains from rolling his eyes but he allows himself to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Yes, father.” 

But Jin Guangshan doesn't stop there. He's ranting, venting out all of his frustration from the past and letting it bleed into the present. They both know that only Meng Yao is the safe candidate to listen to this, since the bimbos hanging off his arms are unreliable. Whatever the reason, Meng Yao doesn't have to like it. Luckily, all he has to contribute to this frankly unnecessary chat is the odd acknowledgement of his presence, that he's listening to whatever vitriolic string-pulling Jin Guangshan wants to do. What his father hasn't realised yet is that Jin Guangshan needs Meng Yao. None of his other children possess the wit or the ruthlessness needed to achieve his set goals because Meng Yao has spent years giving them unimportant tasks designed to be time consuming but ultimately useless if a takeover were to happen. 

“What are you doing today?”

The beat of silence when he should have answered is what brings Meng Yao back to the conversation after having zoned out briefly. It really is too early for this nonsense. 

“I can contact Lan WangJi and give him a push for his return. The sooner that cauldron is opened, the better.” And if it contains the notorious Yin Hufu, all the more advantageous for himself. His father is never, ever getting his hands on that piece of metal.

“Once it is deemed safe, I want you to bring me the contents as soon as possible. We can't risk the Lan Institute to claim dibs just because Lan WangJi is based there. No one must know what we're planning.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I want hourly updates.”

“Of course.”

“With photographs.”

Meng Yao answers with an affirmative, hearing female laughter in the background. This atrocious phone call is about to end. Thank God.

“A-Shan…come back to bed…let me–” there's a sharp gasp and then abruptly the phone goes silent.

Meng Yao hopes he never has to imagine what's happening currently in Koi Tower again. The conversation finished just in time as he slips the phone into XiChen's robe pocket, and the man himself slides his arms around Meng Yao. 

“A-Yao…” XiChen kisses the soft sensitive skin on the nape of his neck, making him shiver. “It's cold here. Let's go back to bed.”

Meng Yao lets himself be guided back inside, losing himself to the pleasure of his boyfriend's warm kisses. There's a time and place for conniving, for plotting the demise of one's parent, and that time isn't now. 

“Was that your father?” XiChen asks him, his teeth biting down gently on his collarbone. 

Meng Yao freezes, wondering immediately how much XiChen could have heard. But no, the door was closed - there's no way he heard anything incriminating. Plus XiChen is aware of how demanding Jin Guangshan is - perhaps there's nothing to worry about. Meng Yao forces himself to relax and melt against his boyfriend's hard and delectable chest, making sure his dimples are on display.

“Yeah, he wanted an update.” It's a talent to sound unconcerned, nonchalant even.

“Ah well, all in good time, hmm?” XiChen hums, his wet mouth charting a course across Meng Yao’s neck, sucking a particularly bruising kiss in the junction where his neck meets his shoulder. 

“Any idea when your Didi will come back?” Meng Yao gasps when XiChen's teeth bite down a little too hard.

“When he's thoroughly satisfied that he's exhausted all avenues of his research,” XiChen replies. “Now, if you can still think, I'm not doing my job as A-Yao's boyfriend well enough.” As if making his point, his large hands grab the soft hardly there mounds of Meng Yao’s backside, massaging them through the fabric of his own robe.

XiChen is right, Meng Yao sighs dreamily letting himself have these precious moments. Maybe he can think about work later. They're here now, and they're having fun together. What more could he want?

*****************

The thought of returning to the Jingshi is abhorrent but necessary, Meng Yao realises afterwards. 

He's lying in XiChen's bed while the man in question is using the shower. He's too tired himself to have taken up the offer to do that together, content to steal more calm moments lying down and resting before he really has to get up. 

The thing is, his intuition is nagging him to no end. And if his awful father has gotten to the top of the food chain by sleeping around with the right people, then it's equally true for Meng Yao to have gotten the same results by trusting himself. It's never led him wrong so he's using this alone time to think and plan.

Two things are certain: XiChen mustn't find out what he's planning to do because that equals extra problems that no one wants, and secondly, Meng Yao must find a way to get past the crows and ravens. Something is going on inside the Jingshi and Meng Yao is itching to find out. The added benefit is that his father will be pleased to see the report. Any news at this point is good news.

XiChen returns to the bedroom with just a towel draped around his hips, his gorgeous body still shimmering with droplets from his shower. Meng Yao narrows his eyes at him even though there's definite interest down below in his own body.

“You're insatiable today,” he remarks as XiChen bends to kiss his forehead. 

The scent of coconut and some exotic flower drifts over him, and he can feel the heat from XiChen's body close to him.

“Who, me?” XiChen grins far too honestly. 

“I can't go again,” Meng Yao flops back onto the bed, pleased by the worry on XiChen's face. 

“A-Yao, sorry! I should've remembered you're injured. Forgive me?” His eyes softened, lingering on the bruises painted on Meng Yao’s forearms when he'd protected his own face from the aerial assault. “Today, I want you to just rest. Don't worry about a thing. Don't even pick up your phone, understand?” He boops Meng Yao’s nose affectionately. 

“If you say so,” Meng Yao puts out a well-practiced pout.

“I do say so. If you're a good boy, I will give you a treat tonight.” XiChen laughs as Meng Yao’s eyes light up with excitement. 

He watches XiChen dress, and that's another treat in itself. That strong body slowly being wrapped up in layers hidden to the world, and only Meng Yao allowed to have the privilege of XiChen showing him his beauty at night. Truly, Meng Yao is the luckiest one out of the two of them. XiChen gives him a lingering kiss before he leaves, and they exchange words of missing each other while they're apart.

Meng Yao waits exactly five minutes after he's gone to check XiChen's whereabouts; he has a bug planted on his boyfriend hidden in a brooch that was given to him as a birthday gift. Meng Yao can track him on his smart watch. XiChen never goes without it, and when he reaches the library where Uncle Qiren is waiting for him, Meng Yao jumps out of bed and hops into a scalding shower. Today, he's going to have to be fast and smart so there's no time to waste.

Then, after chugging down a couple of painkillers, he makes his way to the kitchens. He's a familiar face nowadays, so no one thinks anything of his presence as he slips inside the food storage shed. Precautions make him do it when no one's around, a habit now. 

Birds are creatures after all, and who among them can resist the preoccupation of food freely offered? Meng Yao’s plan is simple: distract the crows and ravens with grain and sneak past them. He can't mess with the food and mix it with any toxins like rat poison because who knows how strong their sense of smell is? He really wouldn't like to find out.

It's bound to work. He'll be inside the Jingshi in a matter of seconds, investigate and make sure the cauldron is intact, and then make his exit with as little drama as possible. In and out.

What could go wrong?

Chapter Text

Wei Ying’s casual dismissal of his concerns is annoying. Frightening, too, if Lan Zhan is honest. He listens carefully to everything Wei Ying repeats, looking for a chink in his verbal armour.

“I know I'm right. What are our bodies made up of? You can trace each thing back to one of the five elements, right? Our skin, bones and all the hard stuff goes back to the earth. Blood and any liquids,” he makes a face but he's giggling, “attributed to water, air is whatever is trapped in our lungs and the oxygen travelling around our bodies via blood, the heat of it going back to fire, and space is in the empty cavities such as the chambers of your heart. So, if I tweak this character here, and swap out this one for permanence, basically rewrite this part, and move this radical from here to here,” Wei Ying spreads his palms out in a careless gesture after pointing at the relevant parts in his own array, “then that's it! Easy peasy.”

“So you're saying if we collect a bit of each element and stick it in the cauldron, draw the new and improved Soul Summoning array on top and hope for the best, you'll get a new body out of it?” Luo QingYang makes no apology for her incredulity. 

It sounds crazy, no matter how many times Wei WuXian repeats the same theory using different wording.

“Yes! You get it!” Wei WuXian points at her with finger guns. “Course, I have to go in it, too, but that's the gist of it.”

“But why the cauldron?” Mo XuanYu asks. He too, is wary about Wei WuXian's solution but he's willing to give it a chance. He just wants to understand it better.

“Think about it. The cauldron is where everything started. It's central to whatever we did, all those years ago, right? It makes sense that it should help us finalise the outcome. One last time.”

“If you're right, we're gonna need another lid.” Luo QingYang looks around, her gaze remaining on the already destroyed lid that has been reassembled a distance away.

“I don't think it has to be airtight,” Wei WuXian continues. “Just something solid to cover it.”

“What are you going to draw the array with? In the past, it used to be cinnabar and charcoal.” Mo XuanYu asks him, brows furrowed because none of those things are easy to get. Especially now, in modern times.

“Ah…well, I was thinking, blood.” He looks sheepishly at Lan WangJi. “And because we don't know exactly what's going to happen, maybe it'll be better to do it outside.”

“When?” Luo QingYang inquires, before Lan WangJi can say anything.

“No time like the present.” 

His nonchalance is what triggers Lan Zhan into action.

“Everyone, out. I want to talk to Wei Ying. In private,” Lan Zhan explodes. His voice remains quiet but it's an outlet of his rising tension all the same.

Luo QingYang recognises it for what it is and grabs Mo XuanYu. They scamper up the steps into the main part of the Jingshi, leaving Wei Ying alone with Lan Zhan. For a few moments, Wei Ying only watches him, and Lan Zhan stares back, a fierce intensity in his expression. 

The stress builds until Wei Ying can't take it anymore. “Lan Zhan, what–”

“Wei Ying, I can't lose you again!” Lan Zhan shouts.

His voice echoes, reverberating around the room and rolling back to them.

“I'm not…I'm not strong enough for that.” Lan Zhan sinks to his knees, covering his face with his hands. He feels Wei Ying’s presence close by, but he's too upset to look at him.

“Sweetheart…” but he doesn't add any more.

Lan Zhan is glad about that. He doesn't think anything can make him feel better about Wei Ying’s possible death sentence right now. Time feels stuck in sticky syrupy molasses, both of them staying still.

“What if it doesn't work?” Lan Zhan finally says, looking up at him with bloodshot eyes. He feels helpless again, unable to do anything to stop this. But then, Wei Ying has always been a force of nature, forging ahead with little thought towards consequences. Perhaps in the past, circumstances dictated his actions but in the present, why is it necessary to resort to an extreme solution?

“Well, what if it does?” Wei Ying counter asks. “As far as I can tell, I might be in need of clothes but other than that, isn't it a good thing?” His tone is much softer now. “Lan Zhan…all I want to do is be able to touch you. Is that so bad?”

Lan Zhan sighs heavily. “When there is no guarantee of the outcome, yes. Yes, it is bad.” He's desperate because he wants it so badly too, and that is part of the problem. He cannot justify a course of action when he doubts that it is partly because of his own selfish longing.

Wei Ying looks hurt at that. “What we're going to do, it is unprecedented. Of course, that means we don't have any certainties. But isn't that the greatest part of any experiment? We're cultivators. We live to invent. To explore new possibilities. I can't sit back and rest on my laurels, and you know that I've never been one who can just settle for second best. My theory is sound. And I think it will work, so if you want guarantees then that's the best I can do.” His chin juts out defiantly. 

Lan Zhan can tell; he's not going to back down about this. He feels transported back to the past, to the time when he and Wei Ying disagreed about everything. When every meeting, every chance encounter ended in conflict. Every time he walked away back then, he wished he could say succinctly what was on his mind instead of letting misunderstandings get between them. He doesn't want a repeat of that.

“Wei Ying…won't you hear me out?” His eyes are still wet even as he attempts to clear his vision. 

“How can I not?” Wei Ying plops down in front of him. “I know you're worried about me. About our plan. But I really think it'll work.” He's being gentle now. “Alright, how about this? Tell me what worries you the most.”

At least he's willing to listen. That's a step up from their joint history. 

“If the choice I have is to be with you like this, then I'll take it. What you're proposing, we don't know what'll happen to you. What if you end up obliterating yourself? What then?” His eyes are hot as he demands answers from him.

Wei Ying considers this before grinning at him. In that smile, Lan Zhan knows immediately that he's lost this argument. He's so beautifully confident, so assured of his own victory and the certainty that he's right that it's impossible for Lan Zhan not to get sucked into that assurance. And whatever his face is doing now, Wei Ying knows this. Only Wei Ying has managed to equal XiChen in understanding how Lan Zhan feels and what his thoughts are. But where XiChen can be convinced to change his direction and align himself with Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan realises too late that he has no defence against Wei Ying. He will be swept away on the currents of whatever Wei Ying wants to do because he loves him more than his own opinion. 

“My fear is that I will lose you,” Lan Zhan whispers uselessly. 

“That's impossible!” Wei Ying declares this again with a hundred percent faith that Lan Zhan is wrong about it.

“Explain.”

“My love, have you forgotten that your music is the key? When we defied the Flame curse, we bound our souls together. Wherever you are, that's where I'll be. Our souls are the one thing impossible to destroy. I need you to believe that.” 

“I do.” Lan Zhan is surprised at that. But if Wei Ying asked him to jump off a cliff right now, he'd do it. He might ask questions about it, but his willingness to accommodate Wei Ying isn't in doubt.

“Lan Zhan, Sweetheart, I love you. I promise you, I'll find you no matter what. Not that it'll come to that. I believe in us.”

Wei Ying does something then, something that makes Lan Zhan feel surrounded by him, covered from head to toe in a Wei Ying shaped blanket. The warmth and love he feels is incomparable to anything else. And it's this feeling that spurs him on to agree to whatever madness this is.

“Let's do this.”

Chapter Text

Behind the Jingshi, there's an open space. It's technically Lan Zhan’s garden area that Luo QingYang has chosen, and she's even managed to find a piece of a wooden slab large enough to cover the cauldron that Lan Zhan brings up from the secret room.

There's no need to bring the items that were originally inside the cauldron to begin with; the Jiang clarity bell, Chenqing and the music sheet are connected to the soul binding ritual that Wei Ying had come up with to counteract the death curse. Mo XuanYu has the soul summoning array from Koi Tower in his hands and Luo QingYang is currently taking some muddy soil to put inside it. 

“That's the earth part,” she murmurs, then going to wash her hands in the stream that's flowing past them, not too far away. She runs back with her hands cupped together and dumps some of the ice-cold liquid into the cauldron. “That's two out of the five. Third is space and fourth is air, both of which are already inside.” She looks expectantly at Lan Zhan. 

He's just come back from bringing his guqin outside. 

“Mn?”

“We need two more things,” she replies impatiently. “Fire, so matches, and your blood.” 

Oh. Lan Zhan feels foolish for not getting that part of this plan. “I have never drawn an array before. Not in this life.”

“Lucky for us, I have,” Mo XuanYu replies confidently. To his credit, he doesn't look disgusted at the thought of the medium he's going to have to use. 

Wei Ying floats beside them, the only one not suffering from a surplus of emotions. He looks calm and ready, his lovely silver eyes curious and alert. To Lan Zhan, every moment spent away from him in this form is a torture he's unwilling to endure, but necessary. So his long legs hurry back inside to fetch a knife and the matches. At the last minute, he remembers Wei Ying’s requested clothes and so he brings out a bathrobe, a blanket and some comfortable pale blue flannel pyjamas with tiny bunnies on them. 

He's anxious. There's a tight ball of nerves roiling in his gut that no amount of reassurance will calm so Lan Zhan tries to ignore it. His thoughts are entirely another matter. This might be the last time he gets to see Wei Ying. He ignores Luo QingYang and Mo XuanYu who are whispering urgently between themselves; Luo QingYang looks determined and then suddenly, both of them are pulling out their phones. They have figured out that there's no signal or coverage behind the mysterious barrier and they both quickly step outside of it. They're evidently working on some other problem, so Lan Zhan focuses on Wei Ying. 

He memorises the shape of Wei Ying’s face, his almond-shaped phoenix eyes, the beauty spots dotted around his features like a constellation of stars. There are a couple on his neck and one under his bottom lip on the right hand side, and another on his left earlobe. The cute button nose, and those plush lips, pink and glistening as if they were damp. He imagines kissing Wei Ying and laments his younger self for not doing it in their first life. He should have confessed then, all the way back when the Cloud Recesses held the guest lectures and the Jiangs came to attend. He's so beautiful, his Wei Ying. 

“Ah…Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, don't look like that.” Wei Ying drifts closer, all softness and curves. Not a hint of his sharpness remains, as if he knows how hard this is for Lan Zhan to agree to.

Against his will, tears accumulate and overflow from his eyes, rolling down his cheeks like new rivers beginning their lives. A wave of remorse, of unbearable sadness flows out of him and Lan Zhan can't speak for the swelling of his throat, the pathway constricted as if a boulder is wedged inside.

“Sweetheart, I want to wipe away your tears. I want to kiss them away and make sure that nothing hurts you ever again. Please, don't cry anymore. I can't do anything about it and that hurts more.” Wei Ying looks distraught. 

Lan Zhan nods because he can't do anything else. He strives for control, looking anywhere except at Wei Ying because he knows he's not above begging if that's what it will take.

The sun is just about to rise and it seems fitting; when the binding of their souls happened so long ago, twilight had just spread her wings across the skies, a deep blanket of midnight blue for the dancing stars to come. It feels right that in the past, they were witnesses to a union of two different fates then as they are now, winking into the gradually ripening sky. Streaks of golden waves interspersed with coral, pink and orange herald the King of daylight, rays of the sun glimmering between the two peaks east of the Cloud Recesses. 

A new dawn, a new day. A new beginning. 

As Luo QingYang and Mo XuanYu return to them, back inside the barrier, Lan Zhan holds onto his fragile hope with both hands. He watches as Wei Ying reluctantly leaves his side and goes to supervise Mo XuanYu who is wiping the wooden makeshift lid. It's only when three pairs of eyes stare at him that Lan realises he's supposed to provide the ink.

“A-Yu, you must draw quickly. Lan Zhan needs his fingers to play so use a vein, preferably at the inside of his elbow.” Wei Ying instructs.

Lan Zhan rolls up his sleeve and offers his arm, crouching low next to the seated Mo XuanYu so that it's easier for him to reach. There were no calligraphy brushes in the Jingshi but Luo QingYang is nothing if not resourceful because she's brought along a toothbrush from the bathroom. When Luo QingYang uses a needle to pierce his skin after disinfecting the patch, Lan Zhan thinks about buying a new one as soon as possible. There's no way this one is going inside his mouth again. Ever.

Mo XuanYu correctly stated his expertise; Wei Ying has minimal comments to make as they work together. Lan Zhan watches them as if all of this is happening to someone else. He barely registers the slowly pooling blood as it blooms out of his skin, the apologetic way Mo XuanYu renews his brush with the macabre ink. Their heads are bent together as Wei Ying patiently explains his methods to a willing student. They draw the outer circle and trace out the correct characters, then add another three circles for the inauspicious total of four. The rest of the characters follow and in no time at all, they're ready.

Luo QingYang has a cotton ball with a plaster attached ready to put on his tiny wound. Lan Zhan makes himself watch as Wei Ying blows him one last kiss. It's playful and flirty, and just like him to do something like that, but no less sincere for the ill timing. 

Now, things have to happen fast.

As soon as Wei Ying pulls his floaty, spectral body into the cauldron, Luo QingYang slams the lid down and Lan Zhan begins playing. With each note that rings out, parts of the array begin to light up with a red glow. Lan Zhan watches the cauldron as his fingers continue playing with no need to pay attention to their placement. His first completed rendition lights up the outer circle, and as he continues playing, the rest of the circles catch the spark of energy and begin glowing with an ominously crimson light. Four times he plays until the whole array illuminates a frightening red aura that spreads far past the confines of the wooden slab. The array lifts up into the air above the cauldron, beginning to spin faster and faster, and Lan Zhan’s fingers match its tempo; he no longer knows who is following who. He closes his eyes and plays with a blistering speed, barely registering the shocked gasps from the spectators.

The light behind his eyelids sparks from red to purple to electric blue and then there's a deafening crash as something explodes. Splinters of wood like razor sharp blades fire from somewhere in front of him because his skin stings and even as his ears ring from the echoing sonic boom, Lan Zhan doesn't stop playing. 

As the reverberation of the explosion fades, awareness seeps into his consciousness. First, he registers the absence of the strange silence that had cocooned them from the outside world. All of a sudden as if it's splintered apart and shattered, and there's a cacophony of noise: sirens, shouting, his own music, and the birds. Desperate cawing, screeches and violent screams, both animal and human, invade his ears and Lan Zhan opens his eyes to chaos.

There are so many people.

Crowds have gathered and are giving Meng Yao a wide berth because the crows and ravens are dive-bombing him with claws and shit while the police stand back and watch. Luo QingYang and Mo XuanYu have their phones out and are standing with XiChen, who looks paler than normal, his shocked eyes flitting from Meng Yao to their screens in disbelief.

Something cold touches his hands and Lan Zhan looks up into gorgeous silver eyes. Wei Ying, covered by a blanket, is watching him with a wry grin. 

“Hi, Lan Zhan,” he says shyly, smiling from ear to ear. “I told you it would work, didn't I?”

With a cry, Lan Zhan breaks out of his frozen state and lunges towards him. He pulls Wei Ying into his lap and hugs him close. He's never going to let him go again.

Chapter Text

The crows and ravens have impeccable aim, Lan Zhan thinks later on, admiring their ability to target Meng Yao with frightening accuracy. Even after the brave police people tried shooing them away, they returned with an increased fervour, hardly getting any unintended victims. 

But Meng Yao? Absolutely covered in filth.

Lan Zhan learns that in the brief prelude to activating the array, with amazing foresight, Luo QingYang and Mo XuanYu had called the emergency number, specifically the law enforcement agencies. They were particularly interested in apprehending Meng Yao after seeing the photographic evidence of his secret room. Unbeknownst to them, there was a current sting operation planned to arrest Jin Guangshan for many crimes, least of all violent abuse towards women and other equally terrible actions. When Luo QingYang and Mo XuanYu contacted the police, they inadvertently expedited the arrests.

Meng Yao is taken away by the cops who are less than happy about having to do it. Not only is he drenched in gunk, but he smells awful to boot.

Wei Ying was given a chance to get dressed inside the Jingshi in Lan Zhan’s clothes before all of the witnesses were shepherded into the university library for a debriefing. 

Lan Zhan hasn't let him out of his sight once. They're still holding hands even while the detectives are interviewing them. 

“Who are you?” One of the policemen asks Wei Ying, once everyone is settled into smaller groups on different tables. There are multiple interviews being conducted at the same time, the low hum of several conversations steady in the air.

“Wei WuXian–”

Before he can add any more, Luo QingYang jumps in. “He forgot his papers in Qinghe. Our friend is bringing his passport and ID with him later.”

Lan Zhan only has to glance at her to convey his thanks, and she nods in understanding. He has no idea what she's talking about, but she's his oldest friend and he trusts her.

“Make sure to bring them into the police station in Caiyi, later.” The cops move onto the next person. 

When they finally get around to asking Lan Zhan questions, he has something to admit. “I signed a Non-Disclosure agreement.”

This time, it is a shell-shocked XiChen who intervenes. “You did, A-Zhan. But I did not.” He then turns to the police woman and proceeds to spill his guts.

Lan Zhan looks on in admiration and sympathy because it can't be easy for XiChen to do this. But it's the right thing to do, and he's proud of his brother for stepping up to the task.

Luo QingYang waits until things quieten down before approaching Lan Zhan and Wei Ying. They've ordered lunch for everyone in the library and interviews are on hold until they've all eaten. 

“Guess what?” she waves her phone at him. 

“Mn?” Lan Zhan drags his gaze from Wei Ying’s profile reluctantly. He's been basking in the satisfaction of watching Wei Ying slurp down Sichuan spicy noodles with added chilli oil. An extra addition to the order because he could. 

“After the arrest of Jin Guangshan, Koi Tower is without leadership and the executives want me to return. Acting Chief of Operations, pay rise with significant bonuses and two months annual leave.” She looks conflicted about the offer.

“I am sure you will proceed with caution.” Lan Zhan replies. He knows her history with that place and why she left.

“I'm going to discuss it with A-Yu. Decide what we want to do together. I don't think he wants to go back there but we'll see.” She drifts away from them, lost in thought. 

As the cops finish interrogating the witnesses, they are released from the library and Lan Zhan finds himself and Wei Ying face-to-face with Uncle Qiren. 

“The time to come will be difficult for A-Huan,” he murmurs, looking towards the private area where XiChen is still talking to the detectives.

“Mn.”

Lan Qiren glances at Wei Ying. “We have not been introduced. Who are you?” His eyes narrow when they land on the possessive hand that Lan Zhan tightens around Wei Ying’s slim waist.

“Shufu, this is Wei Ying, courtesy name, Wei WuXian. He is my intended.”

Two out of the three people standing in their tight circle go red in the face and for separate reasons. Lan Zhan remains as stoic as ever, staring back at his uncle unflinchingly, daring him to disagree, as if this conversation did not concern him. He does smile when Wei Ying hides his face in his neck, his wandering arm slung around Lan Zhan’s neck in an equally claiming hold.

Lan Qiren stomps off muttering disparaging comments about the youth of today. Lan Zhan doesn't care since he's far older in spirit than his uncle can cope with, and besides, his relationship with Wei Ying is something that still needs clarification but that’s just between them. It's no one else's business, though. Also, annoying his uncle into leaving the conversation means lying less because there's no sane way to explain who Wei Ying really is or where he came from. That's going to be an interesting conversation when the time comes.

Wei Ying swings their joined hands together as they walk back to the Jingshi in an unhurried stroll. He looks as if he wants to say something and he's trying to figure out how to do it.

Lan Zhan feels ever so relaxed suddenly. Ever since that first morning when Meng Yao interrupted the family meeting on that fateful day, he realises how much building stress he was under, only properly aware of it now that it is gone. His limbs feel rubbery and slack, and lying down for a while seems like a brilliant idea. He wonders what Wei Ying thinks about that.

They enter the Jingshi and Wei Ying follows Lan Zhan around the place as he goes, opening up the curtains and blinds everywhere except for the bedroom. Once they reach there, Lan Zhan quickly pops into the secret basement room and shuts the light, deciding to deal with it later. He closes the hidden door and Wei Ying smiles at him.

Lan Zhan opens his arms because it feels right.

His heart is beating so fast in anticipation, and he's delighted when Wei Ying slides into his embrace. This moment feels earned, as if they've been waiting for so long just to be able to hug each other. Lan Zhan won't take it for granted though. Every second spent with Wei Ying is precious and will be experienced as such. Like savouring and memorising a particularly attractive fragrance or taste, being with Wei Ying is exactly like that.

“Lan Zhan…when you told your uncle that I, that I'm your intended, um, did you mean it?” His voice is a whisper tinged with uncertainty. 

“Yes. If Wei Ying will have me. I am yours in every way.” Lan Zhan means every word.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Wei Ying, please let there be no doubts in your mind. I love you. I want you with me in all ways.” 

The smile that blooms in Wei Ying’s beautiful face is magnificent. It rises like the sun in the morning, until it reaches the crescents of his eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“That's good because, ah, because, I love you, too. So much,” his eyes flicker to Lan Zhan’s mouth. “Lan Zhan?”

“Mn?” 

“Can I kiss you?”

Lan Zhan nods before he can process the question and then it's too late to think about anything because his lips are there, softly pressing against his and the moment is magical because it's him. He pulls away with a giggle and this time, it's Lan Zhan who brings him closer. This second time it's with a warm hand around the back of his neck, reeling him in. When Wei Ying gasps, Lan Zhan seizes his chance and dives in, letting their tongues dance together. He licks inside and wants to smile at the residual burn of chilli oil, happily resigning himself for repeated tastes. His lips clamp down and he bites a little, savouring the sweet whimper of his beloved. Each swipe of his damp mouth, his hot tongue curling and seeking more as tingles race up his spine.

The kisses last a long time, becoming desperate with need as they cling together, neither willing to let go. Lan Zhan yanks on his narrow hips and Wei Ying’s interest in what they're doing is obvious through his soft clothes. Lan Zhan remembers what he's wearing and another possessive streak rattles through him as he pushes Wei Ying onto the bed.

“Is this alright?” He asks as Wei Ying’s silver eyes darken with need. He's already nodding and biting his own lip.

Even in this dim light, Lan Zhan can see the flush on his heated skin as he lies down fully, opening his arms and legs so that Lan Zhan can lie fully on top of him. 

“I want you to know that I like it. You know, when you throw me around. Manhandling. On the bed.” His face is warm against Lan Zhan’s neck and then they don't talk for a long time after that.

************************

In the days following Wei Ying’s return to the living world, XiChen's involvement with the police makes Lan Qiren give all the students and staff a much needed break. 

With the arrest of Jin Guangshan, many women find the courage to step forward and provide testimonial evidence against him, organised by Luo QingYang and Mo XuanYu. They hire a team of lawyers and go to town on him, Meng Yao and the Jin administration. It turns out that in addition to the abuse Jin Guangshan had done to countless women, he also had his fingers in many illegal pies, the sordid reality of his crimes finally coming to light. The investigation will take time but it is already clear that by the end of it, it is highly unlikely that Jin Guangshan or Meng Yao will see the blue sky of freedom ever again. The media is full of speculation but they're all in agreement that the rest of their lives will be spent in confinement, away from any possibility of hurting anyone else. 

Other facts come to light through the interrogation of Meng Yao, who seems to have finally understood that there's no point in hiding anything anymore. 

It is Mo XuanYu who comes to visit Lan Zhan one day. He is sitting in the Jingshi, taking afternoon tea with Wei Ying when the knock on the door disturbs their tranquil silence. 

Mo XuanYu looks apologetic when he enters, and Lan Zhan does his best to put him at ease by pouring him a cup of tea to join them. He tells his mentor about the latest visit to the prison where the police are holding Meng Yao, a separate institute from the one where his father is being held, both deemed a flight risk so bail was denied.

“Meng Yao told the detectives investigating the initial explosion in the Burial Mounds that he had purposefully gotten those five kids drunk. And high on edibles. None of them protested or refused to cooperate when he gave them the fireworks to let off past the public barrier. They were in no state to even understand what they were doing when it happened. You were right to visit their families and offer condolences.” Mo XuanYu bows his head in shame. 

“A-Yu, Meng Yao being your brother, and no matter who your father is, you should know that you are above the blame for any of their actions.” Lan Zhan tells him honestly. 

The past few weeks have resulted in gnawing away at his reluctance to have an intern, and he's developed a fondness for this enthusiastic young man. His offer to sacrifice his own body for Wei Ying, just to bring him back is something Lan Zhan is unable to forget, and his respect for this individual has grown in spite of how wrong such a decision would have been.

“Mo XuanYu, you carry your mother's name as well, do not forget that,” Wei Ying tells him, uncharacteristically serious. “People pick and choose what to say, how to address you but in the end, it doesn't matter. How you live your life is what counts. You have your whole life ahead of you. Think of it as a new beginning.”

Mo XuanYu smiles, turning his face to blink away his tears.

It's a comforting quietness that envelopes them after that.

*****************

Later, after Mo XuanYu leaves, Wei Ying slides closer to Lan Zhan, taking his hand.

“Isn't it funny, Lan Zhan?” He muses.

“Mn?”

“That all of this mess started with the Yin Hufu, and in the end, even though it was destroyed, the repercussions passed through hundreds of years until now. How do you think this Jin Guangshan feels about it? That all his efforts have been in vain, for nothing.”

“I do not like to waste time,” Lan Zhan replies, his hands suddenly lifting Wei Ying by his waist and planting him in his lap facing him.

Wei Ying lets out a yelp before giggling at the look on his face. He leans forward, melting against Lan Zhan and resting his cheek on Lan Zhan’s shoulder. He smiles and closes his eyes when he feels the warmth of Lan Zhan’s big hands against his back, holding him even closer.

“Are you alright, Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan asks when he sighs deeply.

“Yes. I think so.” 

“But?”

“It's a lot to get used to.” Wei Ying eyes the manila envelope on the table next to them. “This world is so much more complicated and you know…” he trails off.

Lan Zhan can understand that. It must be such a lot to deal with, coming from a time when life was a lot simpler albeit stab-happy. When cultivators roamed the earth, their only requirement was to, well, cultivate. Modern life is so much more than that. He watches Wei Ying looking at the documents and proof of existence which lie inside that envelope. Luo QingYang has many friends but one in particular has helped them out by forging Wei Ying’s paper trail identity. 

“I mean, don't get me wrong. There are definitely advantages such as plumbing,” Wei Ying giggles, “and of course, I have you. It's just getting used to the difference. Which I probably will.” He smiles and Lan Zhan knows he's trying to be brave.

“We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with,” he reassures Wei Ying. “My income is enough to support us many lifetimes over.”

“I'm…I guess, where I come from, people got to eat if they worked. It doesn't feel right taking your money.”

“If we were to marry, then it would be your money, too.” Lan Zhan holds his breath, anxious because although he's sure about it, and he wanted to propose but not like this, so offhandedly, to Wei Ying. However, it's worth it because he gets to see the prettiest blush rise from his neck and cover his lovely soft cheeks. The heat of him as he hides his face in Lan Zhan’s neck feels like a blessing. 

“There is no pressure, Wei Ying.” 

“I know.” 

Lan Zhan feels a soft kiss behind his ear as Wei Ying shifts in his lap. He leans back so he can look into Lan Zhan’s eyes.

“It feels right, doesn't it?” He whispers it as if it's a secret that only they know.

Lan Zhan nods, feeling overwhelmed by the amount of love he can see in Wei Ying’s face, in his gorgeous starlight eyes. If even a fraction of that is visible in his own expression, then he hopes Wei Ying will see how much he is also loved in return.

“Whatever we decide, we can do it together. At our own pace.” Lan Zhan leans forward to place a lingering kiss on his forehead. It is chaste and sweet, mellow even, reflecting how he's feeling. They have been given another chance. This life exists in a world without the Cultivation sects, no cloak-and-dagger hierarchy waiting to pounce. Here in the Jingshi, it is just them. Two loving souls finally allowed to unite.

“Mn. Together.” Wei Ying agrees.

He smiles so openly and it's bright and free and full of love. Together sounds like a wonderful way to live. 

THE END