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Lan Qiren certainly had not expected treason in his tea while attending the discussion conference in Qinghe.
It happened during a late-afternoon banquet. Unfortunately, Lan Qiren had already taken a measured sip of the brewed tea before he'd noticed the satisfied smirk on the serving lad’s lips. The moment the liquid hit his throat, an embarrassing confession bloomed in his chest.
Oh, so it was designed to melt the mental defenses and compel one into a state of helplessness. Judging by the smooth proceeding of the discussion, nobody else was served the same fate. What they gained from rendering him humiliated remains a mystery. Though, it might be a slight against what he represents — the famous restraint of Gusu Lan.
No matter. Lan Qiren was going to show them who exactly they decided to fiddle with. With the discipline of a man who had abstained from alcohol and fun for fifty years, he drew upon his formidable golden core. He clamped down on the poison with a surge of spiritual energy, trapping the foreign substance in a tight vice.
Immediate disaster averted, Lan Qiren quietly excused himself. Before fleeing the fortress, he sought out Sect Leader Nie in private and informed him of the slight. Nie Mingjue was a man of honor, of that he's assured of; if anyone in Qinghe was innocent of a sneaky poison plot, it was the man who solved all his problems with his giant saber.
Nie Mingjue’s eyes flashed with thunderous fury, his hand dropping to Baxia. "In my own hall?! Lan Laoshi, give me a name—"
“I do not have a name and please. Keep this discreet. That is the least you could do for me.”
Thoroughly chastised and embarrassed beyond belief, the young Sect leader acquiesced. It was remarkably easy to see how inexperienced he was in face of difficulties. As a teacher, he was to be lenient.
Refusing to trust any local healers in Qinghe, Lan Qiren took to the skies, flying hours back to Gusu while maintaining an ironclad grip on his core. By the time he landed at Cloud Recesses, the sun was already setting. Exhausted, Lan Qiren marched straight to the medical pavilion, summoning only the head healer and his eldest nephew.
He sat rigidly on an examination mat while Senior Healer Zhang checked his pulse. Lan Xichen stood nearby, his brow furrowed with visible concern.
"Shufu," Xichen said softly. "You look pale. Did the journey from Qinghe prove too taxing?"
"The flight was fine," Qiren snapped. "It is the strain of holding my core intact."
“Your core?” Xichen asked, instantly on alert.
“Someone dared to slip something into my tea while I was attending the conference. I wager the effect was to break my composure and humiliate me, but I managed to suppress it with my core.” Lan Qiren stated, with an unreasonable amount of smugness.
“Uncle! And you flew all this way? Was Mingjue not informed? You could've gotten treatment in Qinghe itself—”
“Xichen, you are overturning the river and pouring out the sea for nothing. I did inform Sect leader Nie, but I did not trust the healers there, so I flew here. Because I could afford to. Now will you let healer Zhang examine me?”
Xichen stepped aside, sheepish at his loss of composure, yet stubborn in his way of thinking by the set of his jaws.
Senior Healer Zhang hummed, asking in detail of the symptoms Qiren experienced before the suppression. “Something to humiliate you, you say. Yes, there are concoctions that can be prepared to make the recipient lax with their tongue, though it is less effective on cultivators. I need to examine it further. Can you slowly release the hold on your core, Xiansheng?”
Lan Qiren nodded and did as he was told. His nephew hovered nearby, uselessly looking between the healer and his shufu.
At the time Qiren had thought his approach to the issue ingenious. What he did not know was that forcing a mind-altering serum to fuse with the concentrated fire of a golden core had a catastrophic side effect.
The healer pressed two fingers against Qiren’s wrist, examining the flow of his qi. Then,
I wonder if the poison has touched his liver pathways? The pulse is tight. If I prescribe a decoction, he will complain about the taste like a toddler, but it is necessary—
"The decoction will not be necessary!" Lan Qiren barked, glaring at the healer. "Prescribe something for the meridians!"
Senior Healer Zhang froze. He blinked, staring up at him in utter bewilderment. "Xiansheng, I did not speak of any decoction."
Lan Qiren frowned. "You just said—" He stopped.
Lan Xichen looked between his uncle and the physician. "Shufu…Senior Zhang did not say anything."
Qiren opened his mouth, then closed it. He stared at the healer.
Senior Zhang’s mind immediately erupted into panic: Did he just read my mind?! Oh, ancestors preserve us, can he hear what I think? Can he hear that I think his greasy beard doesn’t suit him at all?! Can he hear that I accidentally used his borrowed inkstone to crush toad skin yesterday?!
"My beard is perfectly august – and you did what to my inkstone?!" Qiren bellowed, his face turning a dangerous shade of crimson.
Senior Zhang shrieked, dropping his medical scroll and hiding behind a pillar.
"Shufu, calm yourself!" Lan Xichen gasped.
Qiren's mind instantly flooded with Xichen's voice; Can Shufu hear thoughts? That would be terribly inconvenient, but manageable. But goodness, he looks almost exsanguinated! What if this poison damages his golden core? What if he collapses? I should bring him some loquat tea... or maybe warm milk? No, Mingjue says warm milk is for children, but Mingjue has those corded biceps that probably don't need warm milk to – wait, focus, Xichen! You must not think – Shufu might–
Lan Qiren recoiled, as he glared at his eldest nephew, his jaw clenching tightly.
Sect Leader Nie’s biceps, Qiren thought, closing his eyes to summon every ounce of his discipline. Of course.
He knew about their little... arrangement. He was well aware of where Xichen’s inclinations lay, having spent the last year pretending not to notice the excessive correspondence with Qinghe or the sudden influx of saber-cut motifs in Xichen’s private quarters. He had made peace with it!
But right now? While Qiren was actively suffering from a mind-altering poison?
"Shufu?" Xichen asked, looking genuinely worried at his uncle’s prolonged silence. "Are you in pain?"
"I am in agony," Qiren rasped out flatly. "Though not from the poison. Clear your head and step back.”
Senior Zhang peeked out from behind the pillar. Should I prescribe a tranquilizer? If I jab him with a needle right now, will he read my intention and strike me down?
"I will not strike you down, Zhang, but if you step toward me with a needle I will assign you to sweep the wall for three months!" Qiren shouted, exasperated. "Now do your job!"
Senior Healer Zhang hastily pulled out a parchment, skimming it from five feet away. "Lan Xiansheng, I believe the serum you suppressed – your golden core altered its function. It has turned your senses into a receptor for the unuttered thoughts of everyone around you.”
Instead of breaking his mind open to the world, the altered poison inverted its direction entirely, turning his spiritual awareness outward like a net.
"Can it be purged?" Qiren demanded.
"No," Zhang squeaked. "Because it fused with your core, forcing a purge could fry your meridians. You have to let it burn itself out. It will wear off in a few weeks, likely."
"A few weeks?" Lan Qiren looked as though he had been asked to swallow a live toad – the very toad crushed on his inkstone. "I am surrounded by teenagers!"
Lan Xichen clasped his hands together, his mind racing again, This is terrible. Shufu cannot work under these conditions. I must inform Wangji immediately. Wangji is so dutiful; he will take over all of Shufu’s lectures–
"Do not inform Wangji!" Qiren ordered instantly, pointing a strict finger at Xichen.
Xichen paused, surprised. "Shufu? Wangji is reliable. He can help–"
"Absolutely not!" Qiren adamantly refused. "The boy is young, he is currently studying hard, and he carries enough responsibility for his age. There is no need to worry the young one over a simple hiccup like this."
But Wangji loves helping.. he would be so good at it.. Xichen’s inner voice whined.
"I said no!" Qiren snapped. Then, adjusting his sleeves, he locked eyes with both men.
"Listen to me carefully. Not a single word of this leaves this room. If the guest disciples learn that my mind is eavesdropping on their thoughts, it will cause utter chaos. And we already have enough ruckus in Cloud Recesses right now."
Senior Zhang scrambled to bow. "Understood, Xiansheng.” My lips are sealed. My mind is a vault. Please don't look in the vault.
Lan Xichen bowed deference, but as he straightened up, a conflict flickered through his mind, Wait, ‘Do not intrude upon the privacy of others.’ Isn't this mental trespassing? Should I cite the rulebook to him?
Lan Qiren glared at his eldest nephew with absolute disbelief. "I am not 'mentally trespassing,' Xichen." He declared valiantly, puffing out his chest. "I am the victim here! This is a medically excused exception!"
Xichen’s mind countered gently, It still feels a little bit like peeking through a paper window, Shufu…
"It is not peeking!" Qiren roared, throwing his hands in the air. "I cannot turn it off!"
Xichen quickly raised his hands in peace. "Of course, Shufu. I understand. Please, let me take your classes tomorrow while you rest."
"Nonsense," Qiren scoffed, smoothing his mustache with aggressive dignity. "A Lan does not abandon his duties over a minor inconvenience like such. I can handle a few stray thoughts from children. Tomorrow morning, lectures proceed as scheduled."
Xichen’s mind sighed, brimming with worry: He is so stubborn. He is going to get a migraine by sìshí. I should prepare some porridge for him–
"I don't want porridge!" Qiren snapped, already walking toward the door. "And I am going to sleep!”
Lan Qiren stood outside the paper doors of the Orchid Room, taking a steadying breath. He adjusted his spotless sleeves, smoothed his goatee with dignity, and squared his shoulders.
He was Lan Qiren. He had mastered the sword, could recite three thousand rules in his sleep, had humbled arrogant sect heirs with just a look, and maintained absolute silence in his soul for decades. A temporary hindrance such as this was not going to break his resolve. He would step inside, deliver a rigorous two-hour lecture on the foundational principles of moral rectitude, and maintain absolute control over his students.
With such a promise, he pushed the doors open and stepped into the classroom.
Instantly, the unuttered thoughts of thirty-five unhinged teenagers hit his brain like a runaway cart of bricks.
‘Ugh, the old goat is back.’
‘I thought he was in Qinghe for the whole month! Who let him come back early?!’
‘Look at that sour face. Did someone mix vinegar into his morning tea, or does he just wake up hating joy?’
‘If I have to copy the rules one more time, I’m going to throw myself off this cliff. I hate Gusu. I hate this mountain. I hate cabbage.’
‘When will A-su reply back to me? Will I be able to leave this lecture hall alive enough to read her letter? The old goat who sucks our souls out, I hope you’ll step on a rock and fall off the cliff.’
‘If a bear fought a tiger in a bamboo forest, who would win? What if the bear had a sword?’
‘Die, old man. Die, die, die. Let us go home.’
Lan Qiren froze mid-step, his foot hovering an inch off the floor.
Horror bloomed in his chest, far worse than the poison he had contained in Qinghe. Is this what they think of him?! Had he failed so spectacularly as a teacher that he cannot even command the bare minimum of basic respect?!
He clutched the doorframe, staggering under the weight of an unprecedented existential crisis.
Sure, he was stern. Yes, he gave out punishments like candy. But he was Lan Qiren! He was the unbeatable master craftsman who took unrefined youths and turned them into dignified sect leaders! In his most private fantasies, he had fully expected that when history compiled the golden chronicles of cultivation, his name would be inscribed in glowing gold leaves right alongside the ancient sages.
Where did it all go wrong?!
Had he not devoted his whole life to polishing these ungrateful little rocks into gemstones? Had he not spent countless late nights by candlelight, meticulously destroying their subpar essays to save their useless souls from mediocrity? Was his lifelong dedication to decorum met with nothing but spiteful prayers for his demise?! Was this to be his legacy?!
He felt fifty years older in a single second.
That was when—
"Shufu?"
A voice, clear as mountain spring water, broke through the wave of mental abuse.
Lan Qiren opened his eyes. Lan Wangji was standing a few feet away, holding a stack of neatly organized scrolls. He looked like the picture of Lan perfection; his posture immaculate, his brow band straight and his face an impenetrable mask of tranquility.
And then, Qiren caught the uncluttered stream of Wangji’s muted thoughts: Uncle looks terribly pale. Was the journey from Qinghe too grueling? I must ensure he does not push himself too hard today. I will handle the distribution of the texts so he may rest his voice.
Lan Qiren’s heart melted into a puddle of goo; tears nearly welling up behind his eyes.
My boy, Qiren thought, his soul instantly restored, My sweetest joy! Look at him! So filial! So dutiful! So concerned for his shufu's well-being! I have not failed! I have raised the finest young man in the entire cultivation world!
"I am fine, Wangji," Qiren said aloud, his voice trembling slightly with overwhelming pride (‘Excessive pride is forbidden, Shufu’— Hush Xichen). He patted Wangji’s shoulder with aggressive fondness.
Wangji blinked, his golden eyes widening by a fraction of a millimeter in confusion, though his mind beamed with modest warmth; ‘Shufu is pleased. I am glad.’
Reinvigorated by his nephew’s filial devotion, Lan Qiren tossed his chin up, smoothed his beard with renewed grandeur and marched confidently to the front of the room. He took his place behind his oak desk, towering over the classroom like a righteous deity. The petty, disrespectful thoughts of the other disciples bounced off his newly restored armor. Let them curse him. He had Wangji.
Qiren picked up his wooden gavel, ready to strike it against the desk and bring the class to order.
And right on cue—
The paper door at the back of the classroom slid open with an agonizingly loud creak. In stepped Wei Wuxian.
His robes were slightly disheveled and his red hair ribbon was half-untied, looking utterly harried. The classroom's collective mental noise instantly shifted into a roar.
‘Oh thank God, Wei-xiong is here!’
‘Please do something crazy, distract the old goat!’
‘This idiot! He’s late again! One of these days, I am going to break his legs for sure—’
‘Go Wei-xiong! Go Wei-xiong! Do something interesting!’’
Wei Wuxian’s own mind was a screaming mess; Fuck, fuck, fuck, I overslept, Jiang Cheng is going to murder me — if Old Man Qiren doesn't skin me alive first! Oh look at him, he’s gonna make me copy the rules backwards on my hands—
Lan Qiren would have delivered a harsh rebuke to this miscreant if only—
—If only another voice hadn't just flattened every other thought in the room.
‘Wei Ying Is Here.’
It was but an absolute, all-consuming tidal wave. Lan Qiren flinched so hard his beard twitched. The thought came directly from his left.
He looked toward the owner of the voice and found only Wangji.
Wangji. Lan Wangji. His nephew. His quiet nephew.
Sure. And Lan Qiren was a dancing fairy.
But then Qiren looked closer. On a peripheral glance, Wangji was sitting straight as a pine; yet Qiren noticed those golden eyes slanted sideways toward the door. Huh — so it was coming from his nephew.
Will the day’s wonders ever cease?
The thoughts coming from Wangji were no longer the orderly stream of a dedicated student. They were deafening. Wangji’s entire existence had snapped into a fixated focal point, every corner of his mind instantly occupied.
‘Wei Ying is here. Wei Ying is in the room.’
‘Yes, Wangji’, Qiren thought dryly, trying to steady himself against the overwhelming racket. ‘The menace is indeed here.’
Wangji’s thoughts shifted, pulsing with a strange intensity. ‘Wei Ying is late.’
Lan Qiren mentally nodded. A correct observation. The boy lacks basic discipline.
‘Is he sick? Is that why he's late? Did he catch a chill sleeping with his window open again?’
Lan Qiren paused, a subtle feeling of warmth softening his chest. ‘Concern for a fellow student’, he mused, feeling another pang of pride. A noble virtue. Though he had to note, a remarkably intense level of concern for a boy he claimed to despise.
Qiren hadn't anticipated this when he assigned Wangji to oversee the delinquent's punishments. But if Wangji, with all his high standards and righteous judgment, saw something worth worrying over in this reprobate, perhaps the Jiang head disciple wasn't entirely beyond saving. Perhaps there was a seed of redeemable virtue—
‘He does not look sick’, Wangji’s mind noted, his inner voice slowing down, tracing every single inch of the boy standing breathless in the doorway. ‘In fact, he looks even prettier than yesterday.’
Lan Qiren froze.
What?
No, no, he heard that wrong. Maybe Xichen was right, senility was getting to him—
‘So pretty.’ Wangji thought again for good measure.
Before Lan Qiren could process the word, Wangji’s mind turned into a war-torn battlefield. ‘Shame! He is a rule-breaking gremlin who does nothing but torment me! He brought illegal liquor and made me break the curfew. He is a distraction. A menace. An unprincipled, loud-mouthed—’
A stray beam of sunlight caught the warm silver in Wei Wuxian’s eyes. The boy lifted a hand to shield his face, still waiting for permission to be let in. Suddenly,
‘The sun rises in the east, yet light resides only where he turns his head,
A single glance, and the four seas grow still.’
….Why was Wangji reciting Lan An’s love poem in the middle of the day? And since when was the poem addressed to a man?
What was happening? Just what in the world was happening?
Qiren’s mind raced to find any alternative explanation. Utterly refusing the obvious, he dug around until he unearthed a dust-covered delusion and hugged it tightly to his chest.
Ah yes. Though the Lan may not outwardly show they care, they were in fact the true connoisseurs of art and aesthetics. They were scholars taught to appreciate literature and worldly beauty but never to indulge in them. And his nephew is a Lan to his core.
Ever since he was little, Wangji had an inclination towards finer things in life, though the boy would vehemently repudiate the claim were he to hear it in his vicinity. Softer things. Holdings which were gentle on the hands, elegant and easy on the eyes. Lan Qiren had always made a point of it by spoiling him with such endowments on his birthdays, just to see that minute satisfaction on his nephew.
And now, unfortunately, Wangji must’ve found it in himself to appreciate the aesthetic quality of the delinquent somehow.
It pains Lan Qiren to admit this, but objectively speaking, he can probably see why another would find Wei Wuxian attractive. He had….pleasing features, he supposes. He would expect nothing less from Cangse’s and Wei Changze’s genes. Though Qiren begs to see the elegance and gentility Wangji prefers in that rapscallion.
Yes, that was it, it was nothing but philocaly.
Lan Qiren cleared his throat, and gestured to the boy to come inside as he settled behind his desk. The boy made it to his seat, all but in a flurry, tossing a victorious smile towards Jiang Wanyin at having gotten away with being late. The teacher’s brow ticked.
‘Wei Ying’s smile is too bright. How irritating.’ Wangji thought. Lan Qiren agreed earnestly.
“Wei Wuxian! Late as always! Have you no–”
‘His smile dims when Shufu scolds him. I don’t like that either. I prefer a smiling Wei Ying. A Wei Ying who’s smiling at me. No, What am I thinking–’
“...Old ma– I mean, Laoshi?”
“Yes? Yes. You, read the precepts as punishment for being late. All of them, in order.” Lan Qiren wheezed.
“All of them?!” The headache whined. “That’s not fair! The class hadn’t even begun–”
“Now!”
‘Shufu is behaving differently. How come?’
Wouldn’t you like to know, Wangji.
If the menace grumbled internally, Lan Qiren was unable to hear it because the moment the boy began reading the rules outloud, with all his dramatic flair meant to entertain, Wangji’s mind screeched loudly.
‘His voice is far too vibrant and his lips are so distractingly pink. I wish I could bite and eat them. Would he gasp in pain?’
…Was his nephew a cannibal?! Is that what this is? This-This insatiable hunger? He'd thought his nephew had abandoned his quirk of biting anyone in his vicinity in his toddlerhood. Was he not feeding him enough?
‘Do not harm others. Do not cause pain to others. Why do I get these urges when he's in my sight? Am I turning into someone I would despise? I can't focus on anything else while he's beside me.This is bad. I should meditate in the cold spring to purge my mind of these thoughts.’
Yes. Yes! Wangji is coming back into his senses. Cannibalism is wrong Wangji, I would not like you to turn into a barbarian that I’d have to put down—
Wei Wuxian casually offered a bright smile toward the front of the room, tossing a stray lock of hair behind his shoulder.
‘His hair looks so fluffy…I wish to run my fingers through it.’
Oh, we’re back to singing praises. But how innocent, Lan Qiren laughed inside nervously. Wei Wuxian does have healthy hair, maybe Wangji is jealous of it? Maybe I should procure the hair oil the menace uses for Wangji, even though Wangji has perfectly smooth hair himself–
‘I wish to yank it. Gently – not enough to hurt, but enough to make him stop and look at me. I wonder what sound he’d make.’
To hell with posture and dignity. Lan Qiren required his head in his hands, and he required it five seconds ago. What grave sin did he commit in his past life to gain this much karmic retribution?
He would’ve lived the rest of his life happily without this knowledge. That the quiet, good mannered boy he brought up had such…such proclivities–
Actually what was this? Infatuation? Frustration turned lust? Teenage rebellion?
Or maybe it was something else. Was this what they call sexual awakening? Lan Qiren desperately hoped it was. Yes, the hellion was nothing more than a passing spark, a fleeting figure who happened to illuminate a hidden door in Wangji’s mind before walking on by.
Qiren would have preferred to know of this from his nephew’s own mouth. What do the youngsters call that occasion? Ah, yes, ‘coming out of the wardrobe’.
But Wangji was fifteen! He was supposed to be thinking about sword forms and spiritual clarity, not the physics of another boy’s mouth! If this was an awakening, Qiren desperately needed him to go back into the wardrobe. In fact, he would personally buy Wangji a larger wardrobe and fill it with ten layers of robes if it meant keeping those thoughts under lock and key.
Wait. Considering Xichen’s suspiciously frequent 'sect business trips' to Qinghe and now with Wangji mentally yanking another boy's hair and eating his lips…
Two nephews. TWO. And both of them were sprinting full-speed to buy scissors and cut their own sleeves.
Oh. Lan Qiren realised. The main bloodline ends here.
Who was going to inherit the sect leadership? Who was going to carry on the Lan family name? Was he going to have to break his vow of celibacy, go down the mountain and court a wife at fifty just so the Gusu Lan mainline didn't go extinct?!
Meanwhile, Wei Wuxian was still animatedly reciting the rules, making the whole class snicker into their sleeves, not knowing what kind of raging hurricane he was whipping up in his stoic nephew's mind.
“Do not engage in frivolous play.” Wei Wuxian recited.
‘I should pin him right here on this desk and teach him exactly what happens when he plays with me.’
“Do not make noise.”
‘I’ll press my mouth over his until he doesn't have the breath to make a sound.’
“Respect elders and superiors.”
‘He needs to learn deference. On his knees, looking up at me, breathing my name into my robes—’
Lan Qiren’s eyeballs were hanging onto his skull for dear life. He stared into the desk in front of him, blinking rapidly, suddenly able to see even its molecules.
Suddenly, the need for all those three thousand rules made magnificent sense. The ancestors hadn't been pious moralists. No, they were survivors. They had constructed a quarantine zone against this exact brand of unholy degeneracy. This was the reason. This was the accursed reason for every single character carved into their wall.
“Sit down Wei Wuxian.” Qiren croaked. He simply lacked the fortitude to hear yet another of his precious sect rules slathered in licentiousness. Wei Wuxian looked at him dumbly for a moment before taking his seat with a shrug.
Qiren didn’t know how, but it was all this rascal’s fault. He was eighty percent certain the boy and his mother were huli jings — born solely to derail righteous men from their noble pursuits and suck the souls out of them for supper. Still, a noisy fox makes no claim to music, yet here sits Wangji, attempting to tune his guqin to it’s barking.
Qiren heaved, “All of you, read your material in silence. Today’s exercise is to control your wandering thoughts and focus on fostering purity of the mind.” he said, looking directly at Wangji.
“Why is Shufu looking at me? Did I break any rule just now? What does he mean by wandering thoughts? That feels targeted. Does he know—’
Qiren jerked his gaze away before Wangji’s astute mind could catch on. He desperately needed Wangji’s thoughts on literally anything else, yet lacked the face to confess his condition. It was becoming increasingly clear to him that coming to class today had been a colossal blunder. In truth, he should have stuck to drinking well water in Qinghe instead of trailing the aroma of tea and gulping it down like a fiend. All of this was his own doing.
The Xichen in his head was growing insufferably sanctimonious for some damnable reason.
That was when Wei Wuxian raised a hand, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Lan Qiren sighed, his soul tired, bracing for the nonsense before gesturing him to speak.
"Laoshi!” The boy beamed. Qiren’s head throbbed. “If actively trying not to think about a thing only makes you think about it harder, isn't striving for a pure mind just a guaranteed way to contaminate it? Technically, the only way to achieve absolute purity is to not think at all! Even Lan Zhan over there — if I challenge him not to think about me right now, his focus will instantly be ruined!"
If only you knew, boy.
‘Impudent. Unruly. Incorrigible. Shameless.’ Wangji thought unforgivingly.
Lan Qiren paused mid-yell to look at his nephew hopefully. Maybe the situation is salvageable afterall! Maybe Wangji will—
‘Heavens, I want to put him through the mattress.’
“L-Laoshi! Are you alright? You're swaying in your seat!” Jiang Wanyin called out.
“I’m fine.”
“But—”
“I said I’m fine! Do as I told!”
‘Unbecoming. Shameful. Do not succumb to improper desires. Maintain a modest demeanor,’ Wangji’s mind immediately supplemented, ‘He is only teasing; he does not care what it does to me. He treats everyone with this easy warmth — I am nothing special. Why would he ever look at me the same way? I am merely a rigid wall of rules he finds amusing to provoke. His interest will wane eventually; of that, I have already assured myself. I am a monster for entertaining such filthy desires toward a fellow disciple who could never feel the same.’
Goodness, was Wangji always this dramatic?! Is this a repressed family trait he was unaware of, or is his nephew just exceptionally unique in that regard?
Also the blatant self-effacement was beginning to grate on Qiren’s nerves.
‘He will return to Yunmeng when this year ends, laugh under the Lotus Pier suns, marry a lovely girl who adores his warmth, and build a life filled with light. He will smile at someone else, carefree and radiant, and I will be nothing more than a classmate he loathed from his youth. How could it be otherwise? Who would not wish to keep him close? I am merely a passerby in his life, yet why does the thought of his absence feel like a slow death?’
‘I will finish the song,’ Wangji thought with reverence. (Why was Wangji so loquacious in his mind?) Even if he never hears it. Even if he leaves and never looks back, I will keep the music. He is my muse, after all. Every chord, shaped to the memory of his laughter…No, Wangji, stop letting your thoughts meander, you’re in a classroom—’
A song? Wangji was composing an original piece for Wei Wuxian?
….This was not a mere fleeting fantasy, was it?
Lan did not love lightly. When a Lan fell, they fell once, completely, and with an intensity that burned through their very soul. Qiren had watched it happen before. He had watched his own brother throw away his name, his position, and his freedom for a love that brought nothing but tragedy and secluded isolation.
And now…now, he was getting a glimpse of Wangji’s nascent love.
Not him too, Qiren thought, panic flaring beneath his ribs. Not his Wangji.
His nephew had been raised with grace and dignity. He was the pride of Gusu, a prodigy who stood tall without an ounce of doubt in his place, yet here he was, reduced to such heartbreaking insecurity, silently bracing himself to be discarded.
Qiren’s eyes locked onto the black-robed pest lounging in his seat.
It all made sense now, but in a far more sinister way. The boy wasn't just an obnoxious, unmannered imp trying to corrupt Wangji's morality — no, he was casually playing with his feelings! He was dangling his attention like a toy, entertained by the havoc he was wreaking on a …passionate heart.
‘Vixen,’ Qiren thought, his hand trembling against his lap that his knuckles popped. ‘You unscrupulous little beast. How dare you treat my nephew’s devotion like a passing amusement?’
He would prove it. He would dive straight into Wei Wuxian’s filthy mind, expose the foul seduction at its source and expel the boy from Gusu before the sun set.
Qiren narrowed his focus, bypassing his nephew's loud (why was it so loud?) inner monologue, and plunging directly into Wei Wuxian’s brain.
He braced himself for a cesspool of debauchery and malice. Instead, what he got was—
—’...Wait, if I invert this array on yellow paper, will it attract pheasants or just very confused lizards? I should test it on Jiang Cheng’s boots.’
—’...Hold on, if I shorten the anchor stroke on a suppression seal, the spiritual flow would double without tearing the paper. Why has everyone been doing it the hard way for three hundred years?'
Lan Qiren blinked. What?
—’...Lan Zhan’s hair ribbon is so long. If I tied a tiny silver bell to the end of it, would he look like a very grand cat? He moves so quietly. A bell would be helpful!’
—’...I wonder if the loquat lady in Caiyi Town is open today. I want loquats. No, spicy radish. Can you pickle a loquat in chili oil? I’ll ask the chef. The chef hates me. I’ll ask anyway.’
—’...Ooh, look, a beetle!’
Qiren’s soul stumbled back a step. He searched frantically for something incriminating but found absolutely nothing. Besides, being inside the boy’s head was sensory overload of the worst kind. While Wangji’s mind was a steady stream cascading down a waterfall of heresy, this boy’s mind didn't even have a train of thought; it had a dozen frogs leaping wildly across lily pads. Yet, to Qiren’s immense chagrin, he had to concede that the boy’s erratic ideas held frightening potential. The world hadn't seen a genuine talismanic master in centuries, and the seeds of one were clearly buried beneath that hopeless chaos — if only the brat could stop being distracted for long enough to cultivate them!
No, Lan Qiren was not impressed. Not even a little.
But where were the seductive thoughts that lured Wangji in? Where was the siren song?!
—’...Lan Zhan’s eyelashes are ridiculously long. How does he keep them so clean? Does he comb them? Does Gusu have a rule about eyelash maintenance? Rule 4,000: Eyelashes must be aligned at all times. Ha! I should tell him that. No, he'll glare at me. His glares are so nice, though. I like it when he glares at me.’
‘Look at him, sitting straight on his little mat. Nobody should be so ridiculously pretty while doing something so boring. What can I do to make him look at me? Maybe I should send a paperman? His reactions are so funny! But he now knows when I am about to do something stupid. On the bright side, that means we’re closer than before! When will he admit we’re friends?’
Lan Qiren was wrong. This boy wasn’t a fox yao wearing human skin from the demon realm. Nor a spy sent to topple the hierarchy of the Lan clan from inside through seduction.
No, this boy was simply an idiot. Nevermind the fact that he’d begrudgingly called the nuisance a genius in his mind moments prior.
….Really Wangji? Did you really get nobody else to bestow your ardor upon? Was a buffoon who can’t even recognise his own attraction your best bet?
In hindsight, all of Wei Wuxian’s antics regarding Wangji can be considered innocent pigtail pulling.
That was another thing. It was all innocent.
Where Wangji’s mind was a vault of potent yearning and scandalous schemes involving desk corners and headband bindings, Wei Wuxian’s mind was a sunny meadow full of puppies.
The attraction was completely mutual, but the delinquent from Yunmeng was operating on the level of a starry-eyed maiden, while his own nephew was secretly a feral animal held back only by sheer willpower and a piece of embroidered silk.
A sound escaped Lan Qiren’s throat. It started as a wheeze, rattled through his ribcage, and emerged as a chuckle.
The entire classroom went dead silent.
Jiang Cheng slowly shrank back to his desk, looking toward the door as if planning an escape route. Nie Huaisang hid his dropped jaw behind his now-opened fan. Even Wei Wuxian froze, brush hovering mid-air, wide-eyed.
Lan Qiren was laughing. The sky was falling. The sun was rising in the west.
Qiren wiped a tear of madness from the corner of his eye. His chest heaved as he slammed his palm onto the desk, the wood cracking slightly under the impact.
"Lan Wangji!”
Qiren’s roar shook the timber beams of the Orchid Room. "You will copy Virtue and Restraint three hundred times! Before sundown!"
The guest disciples stared in paralyzing disbelief. Lan Wangji, the golden boy, the immaculate Second Young Master Lan — getting assigned lines for a lack of restraint while sitting upright and silent at his desk?!
Wangji blinked, his face completely blank, though internally his mind went dead silent in shock. "Shufu...?"
Before Wangji could even process his punishment, Lan Qiren’s head snapped toward the front of the room, his glaring eyes locking onto the Jiang head disciple like a hawk zeroing in on a rabbit.
"And Wei Wuxian!” Qiren bellowed, pointing his finger at the boy's neck. "Cover your collarbones! This is a classroom, not a brothel! Fix your robes this instant!”
Wei Wuxian’s eyes went wide as saucers. He reflexively grabbed his lapels, pulling them up as he squeaked, "They’re covered! They’re fully covered!"
"Cover them more!" Qiren shouted, grabbing his chest as his heart gave an ominous shudder.
He couldn't stay here. If he stayed in this room for one more second, he would hear another detail about what his nephew wanted to do with his forehead ribbon, and he would self-destruct on the spot.
"Class dismissed!" Qiren roared, sweeping his sleeves out. He spun on his heel and marched out into the morning air toward the medical pavilion, leaving behind a room of completely stunned teenagers.
To hell with the rules and abstinence! As soon as he survived this morning, he was hiking down to Caiyi Town, purchasing ten entire jars of Emperor’s Smile and chugging them in his room alone. He had earned every right to destroy his own liver.
.
.
.
“….Did he just call me a harlot?”
“I think he did, Wei-xiong.”
Lan Xichen caught his younger brother just outside the path leading toward Shufu’s private quarters. Wangji was walking with his usual silent gait, though the subtle tightness around his eyes betrayed his inner turmoil.
“Wangji,” Xichen called softly, stepping into his path. “It would be best if you left Shufu alone right now.”
Wangji stopped, tilting his head slightly. “Why?”
Xichen offered a serene smile, though behind it his mind was frantically trying to maintain order. Because Shufu is currently lying face-down on a daybed with a cold cloth over his forehead.
Just half an hour ago, Lan Qiren had burst into Xichen’s study looking disheveled, his beard practically vibrating with rage.
“I am to be kept away from your brother until or unless my curse is completely broken!” Uncle had roared, pacing like a maddened tiger. “You will send him hence, if you want your Shufu alive!”
Recalling the spectacle, Xichen took a grounding breath. “Shufu is resting for the afternoon,” he said smoothly. Then, with gentle curiosity, he asked, “Wangji... what exactly transpired in the classroom today?”
Wangji’s expression remained blank, but his shoulders went rigid.
Xichen continued, not minding the silence, “Shufu has just decreed that Wei-gongzi is to be taught talismanic arrays in separate classes. Furthermore, he has ordered that an elder chaperone should be assigned to accompany the two of you whenever you are required to be together.”
Xichen held back a wince as Uncle’s hysterical shouting echoed in his memory: “I will protect that dunderhead’s innocence until a sedan is sent to Yunmeng, even if it is the last thing I do on this earth!”
Lan Xichen had a very good idea of what was happening. He possessed a keen mind, after all. But for his own peace of mind, he refused to ruminate on it. Because if he allowed himself to think about it for even a second, he would have to confront how he had spent weeks encouraging both boys to grow closer as ‘good friends,’ and how he had personally directed a completely clueless, buck naked Wei-gongzi directly into a Cold Spring occupied by Wangji.
Moreover, Uncle hadn’t even uttered Wangji’s name once during his entire tirade. He had referred to him as ‘your brother’; a tell that indicated Uncle was so cross with Wangji he couldn't even bear to acknowledge his kinship.
Xichen, of course, shared none of these horrifying realizations with his younger brother.
“He has also gone to his study to draft an urgent letter,” Xichen added softly. “He is inviting Sect Leader Jiang to travel to the Cloud Recesses immediately.”
Hearing this, Wangji looked utterly confused. The slight furrow between his brows deepened.
“Shufu came into the classroom extra pale,” Wangji said slowly, his voice laced with genuine distress. “He was acting absurd the entire time. By the end, he laughed. Then he assigned me Virtue and Restraint three hundred times. Xiongzhang…I do not understand.”
Xichen looked left and right. The corridor was empty, save for the rustle of bamboo leaves.
Leaning in slightly, Xichen beckoned his brother closer and lowered his voice, “I am not supposed to tell you this, but I suppose I'd rather take the punishment later,” he murmured conspiratorially. “During his recent visit to Qinghe, Shufu’s tea was spiked. While suppressing it, his golden core inadvertently inverted the drink’s effects and left him temporarily susceptible to reading the thoughts of anyone in his immediate presence.”
Xichen gave his brother a searching look. “So, Wangji... did you think anything unsavory during—”
‘Thud.’
Before Xichen could even blink, Wangji was on his knees.
“Wangji requests Xiongzhang’s permission to enter seclusion,” his voice came out choked and muffled, “Indefinitely.”
“Wangji!”
Of course, after a bout of yelling at the blushing boys together until everything was made painfully clear, it took no time for both of them to shyly nod their assent to tie the knot. Unfortunately for Lan Qiren, no rule, wall or chaperone in Gusu could keep Wei Wuxian’s virtue safe from a Wangji armed with an official betrothal and a complete lack of remaining shame. The poor man could only hasten the wedding before the two of them could besmirch the Lan name far worse than an out-of-wedlock pregnancy ever could.
Naturally, his wedding gift would be a stack of hundred handwritten silencing talismans. Lan Qiren was already so very tired.